Having The Last Laugh

A friend of mine died at the weekend.

We were not close friends, but were close enough that I shed a few tears at the news and wrote her a long letter which she will never get to read.

Her name was Nicola. She was known to one and all as Mrs Barnes, or Barnsie. A bright, intelligent woman whose body, unfortunately, just couldn't keep up with all that her spirit demanded from it.

The best way to sum up Barnsie is: Fun.

She had this deliciously evil sense of humour, where she would feign outraged indignation at some comment I'd make, and then respond with a quip that would be even further down the sewers than I could handle.

Who else could keep an argument about Snoopy and the Red Baron going for over a month?

She died in Auckland after a major operation. We were all expecting her to pull through. It was inconceivable that she wouldn't. I was expecting to be joking with her at the office Christmas party.

But she's had the last laugh. You see, she left instructions not to be embalmed, which means her last big trip is from Auckland to Wellington... on ice. Good one, Barnsie.

So, in her memory I dedicated my Twitter posts today to death, or more specifically, making fun of death.

Here are some that I was quite happy with:

• I'd like to dig my own grave. I'd be like: "Man, I dig you. You're such an awesome hole in the ground..."
• ReinCARnation and Carma. Where you come back as a type of motorvehicle depending on your life. I'm comin' back as a Yugo.
• Debts: What you accumulate so you have something to laugh about when you die.
• What if Jesus' name wasn't Jesus at all? What if he was actually called Kevin? Then you could say: "I thought I'd died and gone to Kevin."
• When dealing with death, it pays not to do so from the bottom of the deck.
• In Hollywood it only seems to rain in cemeteries. Serious drought? No worries, build a cemetery...
• Death is so absolute. Wouldn't it be better if it was more vague? "Can't take your call right now, I'm kinda dead. Leave a message..."
• I got a message from beyond the grave. It was right behind this bloke's tombstone. It said: "Keep off the grass".
• If you find yourself at death's door, say "Can I interest you in a new set of encyclopedias?" and you'll be good for another 20 years.

Bill's Folly

I work with a hilarious bloke called Bill O'Byrne. I'd heard of him even before I started working here, but that was a couple of friends saying: "Oh yeah, he's a really nice bloke."

And it's true. He's wonderfully self-depricating and hilarious.

So he's started a blog in conjunction with the Dominion Post newspaper. The blog is called His Place, which (just between you and me) was reached after his suggestion of Men's Bits was rejected.

Anyway, his column kicked off with a hiss and a roar. Literally, as it happens.

He went up the coast and met these kids who had developed their own spud gun. Except they shoot apples, because a bag of seconds apples is cheaper than a bag of potatoes. They spray cheap hairspray into a chamber at the end of a PVC tube, ignite it and BOOM; the projectile is projectiling.

So Bill sets up the camera and rushes about 50m away with another video camera and prepares to be shot at. He's prepared to do this because a) he's wearing a cheap MIG fighter pilot helmet he bought off Trade Me; and b) he figures he'll have just enough time to duck out of the way of the oncoming apple.

Only one shot was fired. Nobody was hurt. But shit it was close.

I share this with you because the first time I saw it, I was LMAO, veritably ROFL; and I still LOL every time I watch it. (Ah, remember a time when you could laugh without letters?)

Anyway, enjoy:



Check out Bill's highly entertaining blog at: http://hisplaceblog.wordpress.com/

Good Karma? Sorry, No Buyers

Conclusion: Karma has substance, but no matter how genuine you are, happy thoughts just don’t cut it.

As a laugh last week I put two years worth of good karma up on New Zealand’s internet auction site Trade Me.

I wrote a blurb that went something like this:

Over the last two years I have been collecting good karma through various good and selfless deeds. Things like paying for lunch when I'm with friends (sometimes even with my own credit card), providing professional services free of charge, helping old ladies to cross the road (whether they want to or not), driving smelly old alcoholics home from the bottle store so they don't inadvertently get clean by walking in the rain. Generally lighting up the lives of the people around me each day with my sparkling personality. That sort of thing.

I let other people win at Lotto almost every week, I hardly ever run over old people in mobility scooters (despite the obvious temptation), at the track I always try to encourage the slower horses by putting money on them, I donate a lot of money to charity (a casino's a charity, right?), and when I'm robbing somebody at gunpoint the pistol is almost never loaded. That's got to count, right?

Anyway, all this good karma is stored up and I really have no use for it right now. I've got plenty on hand from the rest of my life and the last two years' worth really isn't going to make much difference. So I'm willing to transfer it to you for the very reasonable price of whatever it fetches at auction.

Sorry, instant karma not available as part of this deal.

I will, however, send you a non-binding official letter of authenticity describing the transaction for the benefit of the Universe. I will write it myself and possibly even frame it for you.

Now this was aimed at giving a few people a bit of a giggle; myself included. I especially enjoyed answering the questions:

Q: What are your delivery options? ;) markmie (37 ) 9:35 am, Wed 11 Nov
A: Universal courier, of course :-) 9:37 am, Wed 11 Nov

Q: I understand that instant karma isn't available, but is it gonna get me? bookiemonster (8390 ) 10:04 am, Wed 11 Nov
A: Oh, I'm sorry, I couldn't say for sure. Mr J Lennon is best to ask on that subject (I suggest a ouija board). I used to have sachets of Instant Karma (just add water), but unfortunately they sold out. The packaging was really cool, the sachets would just sit there and just shine on... like the moon, and the stars and the sun. 10:14 am, Wed 11 Nov

Q: Like a crazy diamond? bookiemonster (8390 ) 10:24 am, Wed 11 Nov
A: They would shine like they were riding a steel breeze. They'd shine like a raver, like a seer of visions, a painter, a piper a prisoner. They'd shine! And then there'd be a big long David Gilmour cosmic guitar solo. That's the sort of aura they had. But unfortunately, the Instant Karma sachets are no longer available. Just two years' worth of my good karma. 10:38 am, Wed 11 Nov

Q: Do you have a buy now price hugshot (305 ) 9:58 pm, Sun 15 Nov
A: It's difficult to put a price on good karma. Which is why I've put it up for auction. I figure, if you're selling the godly benefits of two years of (mostly, kinda) good deeds, then the subjective value to the purchaser would differ. That is, a nun would probably have no use for it at all, whereas a politician would probably pay a fortune in taxpayers' money to get hold of two years' good karma, to make up for the bad karma generated by simply being a politician. 9:43 am, Mon 16 Nov

The auction closed this morning. It had nearly 250 views (which was enough for Trade Me to put advertising on the page) was put on five people’s watch lists, but alas attracted no bids. I guess politicians don’t feel comfortable buying used karma off Trade Me.

So, a couple of days after starting the auction I got a great idea. I’d put up some happy thoughts, kind of to keep the karma auction company.

I made up some bullshit about how the happy thoughts were good and positive, but despite JM Barrie’s promises, they weren’t strong enough to get you airborne. I figured that if anyone was willing to pay the asking price ($1) I’d write down five thoughts that make me happy and email them.

I didn’t really push the auction and after two days it received only about 20 hits. Consequently I received the following email from Trade Me:

Dear Lindsay,
One or more of your listings have been removed because it doesn't appear that there was an actual item for sale.
Auctions should be for a genuine item that you're legally entitled to sell. The reserve price should be appropriate for the item's value and condition.
The listing/s we are referring to are: Happy Thoughts (#253533306)

Although it was open for me to contest this decision, I was concerned that taking issue with their decision might lead them to look at my Good Karma auction and remove that as well. But it just seemed strange to me that they removed something which was honestly going to be an item (even if only intellectual property) and left up the item that was complete rubbish.

I think perhaps that if the karma auction had come down I could have argued religious persecution. Because then Trade Me would be forced into the position of stating that karma does not exist. And I’d have about four seasons of My Name Is Earl to prove them wrong.

But happy thoughts? Well, I’m thinking that, ironically, the Trade Me administrator who took the auction down could probably have done with a few happy thoughts of his/her own.

Plastic Plane Morality

It’s no secret that I listen to The Edge radio station every morning. I love the Morning Madhouse – they seem to have the perfect balance of male, female, married, gay, pervy and the voice of morality (yes, this means you, Jay-Jay).

Each day they have the Twitter Top 10, where Jay-Jay collects 10 tweets that have caught her eye in the previous 24-hours. Then they pick one and it becomes the “Twitter topic” for the day; the basis for a general discussion with listeners.

I’m honoured to have had a few of my tweets mentioned on the Twitter Top 10 since it started.

Anyway, today’s Twitter topic was – did you go to school with anybody famous?

I didn’t enter the discussion, as I scoured my memory for those schoolmates that had gone on to great and mighty things.

Oddly, the only person of note that I went to school with was New Zealand’s first AIDS victim. I think he contracted it via the needle. He was in and out of prison a lot, and once it became common knowledge that he had AIDS he was treated abysmally. Prison officers wouldn’t even touch him without wearing rubber gloves.

Now, the small evil side of me was unsympathetic. And it has nothing to do with the disease – it was just that he stole a part of my childhood innocence.

You see, in my first year at school, at age five, I took my favourite toy to school. It was a little plastic aeroplane. I was fascinated with aeroplanes at that stage. I had this weird idea based on the war stories I saw on TV and from war stories my Dad told me. I was convinced that if any little Cessna or Piper Cub flew innocently over the town, that if I wasn’t under cover, it would swoop down and bomb me.

I would hear the plane and sprint for the nearest garage, or run inside the house. It was kind of a junior OCD.

Despite this, I loved aeroplanes. And so I took my favourite plastic aeroplane to school. And at playtime I went out to the sandbox and practised my take-offs and landings.

So I was playing innocently when this boy comes up and says: “Can I play?”

I was a sociable kid, so I said: “Sure.”

Then he said: “Can I have a go with the plane?”

Dubious, I said: “Do you promise to give it back?”

And he said: “Yes.”

So I handed over my treasured plastic plane. He took it and it swooped and dived with such violence that I feared for its structural safety. I became worried for the safety of the plane’s passengers.

So I said: “Can I have it back now?”

And he said: “No. It’s mine now.”

I said: “But it’s MY plane.”

He said: “No. It’s mine. And you can’t have it.”

I, naturally, burst into tears. C’mon, I was only five. Even the expression “suck it up” wouldn’t be invented for another 20 years.

But a teacher came along and, while possession is nine-tenths of the law, she knew that he was a thieving little shit. She made him give it back to me.

So my precious plastic aeroplane was returned. But it was somehow tainted by the experience. As was I. If that teacher hadn’t come along, I would have lost my treasured plane simply because I was being generous; as my upbringing had taught me to be.

This is why I will never forget him, even if, 36 years later, I cannot assuredly recall his name.

Reset the Trip Meter

In this age of internet technology and satellites floating overhead bouncing data in all directions at mind numbing speeds; it’s quite easy to forget just how big this world is.

It was kind of brought home to me a month or so ago where I watched a documentary on life in the 20th Century. The presenter noted that in 1900 the only way to get a message from London to New York was pretty much through letter and via a ship.

If you were lucky the message would reach its intended reader in about three weeks. Depending on the weather.

Only 60 years later you could travel from London to New York in under four hours on the world’s only supersonic passenger craft; the now defunct Concorde.

But even then communications satellites were starting to go up and hover in geostationary orbit, allowing people all over the world to watch The Beatles sing about how all you really need is love.

In the 1800s, settlers setting out from England for New Zealand faced a nine month journey, assuming the weather held and they didn’t float aimlessly in the doldrums for several weeks.

Now, on Twitter I have a friend, Cindy, who lives in North Carolina. I called her up a week or so ago just to say hi. And despite living some 14,000km apart (that’s about 9000 miles) there were no discernible delays as we waited for our voices to be electronified, processed through the data exchange, beamed to a satellite, beamed to another satellite, beamed down to another exchange, de-processed and sent to her portable telephone; which, in deference to the distance my voice had travelled, promptly went flat.

OK, maybe not promptly.

Now, let’s say for the sake of argument that we all still lived on Gondwanaland, but today’s distances applied. Or that I had a sea-going car that goes roughly the same speed over water as it does over land.

Right, so I fill my car with gas, pull out from Wellington Harbour and head north-east towards Los Angeles. The speed limit here is 100kph, and for safety’s sake, and for ease of calculation, I’ll stick with that.

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with `s'."
"Sea?"
"Yep."
"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with `h'."
"Horizon?"
"Yep."
etc

Assuming I had a buddy I could share the driving with, we would cover 2400km a day. So, if we left at midnight Sunday (to avoid the traffic) we’d pull in at Marina Del Rey about noon on Friday. Oh, but then there’s that bloody time differential to consider. Right, so we’d drive for four-and-a-half days and finally pull in at LA about 4am on Thursday. Which would be good, because, again, we’d beat the traffic.

After stopping for breakfast at Carl’s Jr (I hope they're open 24-hours), we’d be North Carolina bound. At only 3400km away, that would only be a day-and-a-half’s drive. We’d be pulling into Charlotte at about 7pm on Saturday.

Then we’d hoon off out to Cindy’s place, only to find that she already has company and it would be more convenient if we could come back next weekend.

My fault entirely. I should have dropped her an email to let her know I was on my way.

Space, the Final Front Desk

I saw an article today saying the Galactic Suite Ltd's Space Resort – the first space hotel – is set to open on schedule in 2012. The tariff is rather steep though at NZ$6.27 million for three nights.

And if that’s anything to go by their mini-bar prices will be exorbitant.

But it got me thinking, what would life be like aboard such a place? Especially once things got settled down and the wrinkles were ironed out.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard the Galactic Suite Ltd’s Space Resort, I’m your concierge, Hal.

“Now a few things to cover before you are escorted to your suites. First, and please remember this, no matter how stuffy it gets in here do NOT open a window. It’s a simple rule, but one that’s already claimed the lives of three of our guests.

“We ARE in a non-gravity environment and this applies to the whole hotel. It’s not possible to call room service and ask for gravity to be turned on in your suite. It just won’t happen.

“Please remember to strap yourselves into your bed before you go to sleep. We’ve had problems in the past with guests floating down the hallways while snoring and then staff members haven’t known which suite to return them to, and if we guess wrong… well, that’s another law suit.

“Just a reminder to keep cellphones, iPods and laptops turned off for the entire duration of your stay. They may interfere with the hotel’s navigation and send us all plummeting to Earth in one giant, screaming fireball. Which is a pretty hefty price to pay for a game of World of Warcraft.

“Feel free to use our sun deck if you want to catch some rays. Bear in mind the sun rises every hour-and-a-half and is only up for about 40 minutes, yet we still recommend using our special SPF10 million sunscreen with ultraviolet and anti-solar radiation filter. At this point I urge you to read the fine-print regarding unique tumours, rare cancers and inadvertently turning into a superhero.

“As well you’d know, this hotel has been credited with the responsibility for turning the Fantastic Four into the Quite Interesting Seven; with our company having been behind the accidental creation of Dr Paranoid, Captain Inert and, of course, Cheese Toasty Man.

“One of the temptations associated with being in this frictionless environment is to send yourself rocketing down the corridors to give yourself the illusion of flying. It can be exciting. Unfortunately, you have no braking or steering mechanism and the walls are just as hard here as they are on Earth.

“Feel free to look at the stars as much as you like. They’re a truly beautiful sight, but no, we cannot turn them off if you’re trying to sleep.

“Yes, the Moon does seem so close up here; but no, we cannot just pop over there for a barbecue.

“While we are in orbit, we lack the facilities to stop the hotel over your home town so you can wave to the neighbours.

“Once again, welcome to our hotel. We hope you enjoy your stay.”