Friday Joke - Its a funny old world

So after Thanksgiving, a trip to the gym...

Lots of work and not a lot else at the moment, which make the joke even more appropriate...
Weather is shitte anyway. Have a good weekend

Wednesday Movie - from down under

Two movies this week from Gareth in Perth

The first just proves that he has too much time on his hands...

The people in the movie, apart from myself, are Gareth, Ben, Justin and Jen. That's the team from last years outback challenge where I can catagorically state there was no dancing and nobody was dressed like an elf...

The same Ben also features in our second movie which features Western Australias "Boat of the Year". This monster was built by Ben and his father at Kirby marine and does 58 knots. It has two V8 350 horsepower Yamaha engines. When asked why he used 350 hp engines he stoically answered "cos they don't make a 400!"

Thats a boat and a half, but given that the seats cost more than my RIB, I am not sure I'll be buying one just yet, but you gotta have dreams...

Culture is a bullshit excuse for brutality

Each year in the Faroe Islands the locals go out in motor boats and herd schools of pilot whales into a bay and then set about massacring them with metal spikes, while large crowds gather to watch and cheer. Teenage boys and men with very small penises attempt to prove how macho they are by hacking up defenseless, docile marine mammals.





This is not tough people on the edge of the known World scrapping a living from the ocean. This is mindless brutal thugs, with no compassion and no empathy, tragically clinging to culture that is obsolete and redundant. These people are not starving, the Islands are rich and heavily subsidized by Denmark. The chief medical officer of the islands has "advised against eating pilot whales because of high levels of toxins" so there is no reason for this gory spectacle beyond its cultural and historical significance.

So what about culture? Is it ok to do things just because our ancestors did them?

The ancestors of my Spanish friends tortured people in the inquisition - but that is unacceptable in a modern society. Not so long ago we kept slaves and castrated black people, fortunately that is also a part of our barbaric past. The Viking ancestors of these pathetic Fareo wannabes massacred christians and burnt churchs, also probably a bit of a no-no in modern Europe. The list goes on and on, but the point is clear. Part of being a 21st Century civilization should be the recognition that such barbarism is unacceptable, especially since it is utterly unnecessary especially in Europe, less than 600 km from Aberdeen and Bergen. This is not some far flung poverty striken corner of Asia, this is supposed to be the civilized western World.

Stop and ask yourself what kind of sick sadistic wanker derives pleasure from such brutality? What kind of massive inferiority complex makes you want to stand up to your waist in blood and murder gentle, intelligent, harmless beasts? Isn't the whale swimming in the open ocean a far more beautiful thing than a plate of fatty meat full of PCBs and Mercury? What is wrong with these people?

And if you can stomach a movie try this .

The caring employer

What sort of Company would tow their own employees car from a totally empty car park at the weekend because "they needed the space"?

Norway's recently rebranded, largest oil company of course...

The car in question was parked in car park while the employee was away for the weekend. The employee left the car there on Friday evening and returned Sunday night to find it gone. The fine for getting it back is 1800 nok - 200 quid, plus another 400 nok for a taxi into town to retrieve the car. That's about £250, which is a lot of money.

The Security Nazi was quick to point out that "it's the rules, I am just doing my job" (Nuremberg established that was a not an adequate defence for being an arsehole). He was also keen to point out that there were signs saying cars could not be left there over night. Problem is that most of the signs were in Norwegian, while the working language of the company is English, so there is no reason why their large international workforce should actually understand them.

But language is not the real point here. We have a multi-billion dollar international company that cares so little about it's employees that it fines them £200 for parking in an empty car park over the weekend. How utterly pathetic is that?

And then they wonder why people are leaving in droves...

Get your hands up

Roy and I are in driving along highway 6 in front of the Book Cliffs in Utah. This is classic cowboy country, a long straight road across the badlands with huge continuous cliffs on the left and in the distance redrock desert on the right. It’s been a long day in the field and there is a cold beer waiting in Green River. The road is pretty empty so I am doing a healthy 85 mph.

The Book Cliffs and Highway 6 - never meant for 60 mph

Suddenly I realize that one of the cars just about to pass going in the other direction has a rack of blue and red lights on the top. Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks!

So I say to Roy, we are about to get pulled over, stay cool, we’ll get a ticket and be on our way. Just don’t get out the car, don’t make any sudden moves and make sure he can see your hands. As I say this, I look in the mirror and see the blues light up and the sheriff does a u-turn.

So I pull over before he is even behind me and put my hands on the wheel in plain view. Roy raises his in a stance of surrender, I am not sure if he is scared or being ironic but I think its kind off funny so I do the same…

The plod approaches, moving along the side of the car cautiously. This is with good reason, too many of Utah’s finest have been shot by crazy people out on these open roads.

When he reaches the open window he immediately asks “Why the hands up? You got a concealed weapon license I don’t know about?”
“No officer” I reply, in earnest, “we are British and we heard that if we got pulled over then we should show our hands or risk being shot”.

He visibly relaxes and apparently thinks this is the funniest thing he has heard today. He takes my license to check it out and then comes back with a big smile on his face.
“Since you guys aren’t from around here I am gonna let you off with a warning”
“Thank you officer, we’ll be more careful in future”

Nice one!

Two days later, early morning we have hooked up with Chris, Atle and Helen and we are all heading south from Green River to Moab for a five day raft trip. We are all pretty excited; I am doing my predictable 85 mph when we pass a policeman. Bugger!

So I pull over and say “get your hands up everyone, now!”

Roy gets it straight away, the others comply but a bit more hesitantly.
The police man approaches and fortunately it’s a different one and this is a different county. Again he asks why our hands are up and again I say the same thing. Helen, who is rather striking and has a pretty plumy English accent at the best of times, hams it up and says
“We’d rather not get shot officer”

He looks less than impressed but goes off and 10 minutes later comes back, telling us he is going to let us off. We thank him profusely and drive away slowly.

Nice one!

Maybe this is the solution to all those speeding tickets? The question is, how far could you push it?

Two years later Atle and I bottled out of trying it again and took the ticket. That time it was at 3 am and we had been out sampling sandstone in Arches with a large drill which was in the back of the car. We were also half cut and didn't want to try and explain what we were doing, but that's another story…

Friday Joke - Lets go for a drink

Some graphic illustrations of the differences between the thought process in a typical men and women...

(click on them for a bigger version)

Lets go for a beer...

After all this beer I need a piss...

Lets go on a date...

Life in Suburbia

Been in the Smog for the last couple of days, meeting investment analysts - not sure how I ended up here, last time I looked I was a geologist...

Being in London reminds of a time, twenty years ago when I arrived here, fresh from Uni with a very large debt, trying to get enough cash together to go and do a PhD. It was an entertaining 9 months but it also made me realise that I never wanted to live here again. Each time I come back and visit only serves to re-enforce that view. Anyway here is a tale from back in the day...
________________________________________________________________

The year is 1988 and I have just finished my degree. The job market sucks and I am very short of cash, so I have taken a job in London with a small consulting company. At £7500/year the pay is so bad that I can’t actually afford to live here. In fact I would probably be better off back in Wales landscape gardening or delivering cars (which, along with stage crew work, had helped to finance my degree), but I also need to get some relevant experience to strengthen next years PhD chances.

So I end up living on my cousin’s floor in deepest, darkest Kent. I have been here for 2 weeks, long enough to work out that if I leave the house at exactly 7.30 I can walk 10 minutes to the train station, then catch a train followed by two tubes and get to the office in Putney at five to nine. I am already part of that well oiled commuter machine!

So for two weeks everything is going just fine and I am making a good impression at work. Then one evening, the guys ask me to come and play cricket with them. I am not much of a batsman but my long lanky arms assist in fast bowling and as it turns out the opposition are fairly crap anyway. We win and there is much beer downed to celebrate until the last train home.

I get to Oprington Station and head home, its pouring with rain and rather grim I realize that I must be more pissed than I thought because I am now lost. Bugger! It takes me about 2 hours to get my bearings, make it into the house and collapse on the bed.

Next thing I know, the room is flooded with daylight and I am awake and alert. What time is it? A quick look at my watch says 27 minutes passed 7. Shit! Shit! Shit! I know that if I miss the next train it will trigger a chain reaction of delays and I won’t be in work until 9.30. That is bad! Drinking on school night is fine as long as you make class the next day. Especially when it’s your first time out with the team.

I jump up, throw on some clothes and bolt for the door, running down the street towards the station, I might just make it! Half way I start to get a stomach cramp so I slow down a bit, I am sweating and feeling very rough, I start to walk. By now my goal has been down graded to making it to the station and finding a toilet before I crap my self.

More spasms and I am in serious trouble. Then just as it’s looking very bad, a man walks out of his house and asks if I am ok. I ask if I can use his toilet, he looks at me rather horrified and says no. I should emphasis that I can’t blame him, I am 6’2”, scruffy, with very long hair and I am sweating like a horse. I probably wouldn’t invite me into my house to use the toilet either.

But it’s desperate so I plead and eventually he relents and quietly says the toilet is at the top of the stairs. I need no second bidding, I barge past, take the stairs 3 at a time, while undoing my trousers. At the top of the landing I come face to face with his wife, dressed in her nightie. I am pretty sure that every morning he leaves for work at 7.36 and she gets up as he goes and heads to the toilet. I am also pretty sure she has never been head off at the pass by a large yeti with his trousers undone…

I pull down my trousers and my arse explodes, solids, liquids and gases under pressure. It’s a real mess and it stinks but it’s also immensely relieving, I feel so much better. A quick look at my watch tells me that this diversion has actually only taken about 3 minutes and if run I might just make the train. So I pull up my trousers and bolt down the stairs and up the street to the station.

I make the train and my honour at work is intact. My honour on the way to work subsequently is more challenged as every morning my new found friend waves and says hello. I wave back and hurray along.

The thing that really worries me about the whole affair is trying to imagine what his wife thought was happening and what she said when he got home that night …
“Darling, after you left this morning some long-haired hippy ran in to the house and stank the toilet out before running off. Can you imagine?”
“Really dear? In Orpington, imagine that...