My dear Globet at her tender young age has an enviable practical ability to understand human nature and provide sage comment and advice.

Surprising really when you consider the load of philosophical rubbish she inherited from me, and to which she recently drew my attention;

"A quiet rum and coke on the beach will cure anything that ails you except the common cold, which can be cured with a handful of zinc tablets"

She apparently made these observation following years of family excursions to Newell Beach.
Sadly, her research is now somewhat dated since, in her mid teens, she unilaterally declared that "Newell Beach is full of old farts" and thereafter refused to accompany even the two old farts who spawned her.

There is however nothing more liberating for me than sitting on a beach watching the full moon emerge from the ocean to illuminate windows of stars beyond a curtain of cirrus.  
An observation devoid of astronomical fact, but it nevertheless makes one feel almost poetic.
It certainly makes one feel very small indeed in the context of everything out there.

With the assistance of a little fermented nectar-of-sugar the eyes can see beyond the stars and the consciousness is freed to voyage to imagined cosmic destinations, or plumb the depths of the mind.

Earthly problems dissolve.

You become one with the universe.

It seemed that way for me last week.

Returning to my accommodation unit, even the microwave seemed to be sharing the happiness of the moment.

Microwave mirth

"With all it's sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world."   

                                                            (Desiderata)

Indian with a hatchet

Artefacts are a major portion of an American-Indian reservation's economy. Annually, thousands of tourists visit reservations and most will not leave without purchasing at least one memento of the traditional Indian culture.

One enterprising Indian was able to outsell his competitors in the sale of wooden dolls by selling them at only a fraction of the cost others had to charge. On examination of his dolls they found that where traditionally hard wood was used, this Indian would use cheap pine on which he glued thin pieces of fine mahogany, thus being able to produce the dolls at only a fraction of the cost.

While he claimed his dolls were still authentic, his competitors complained that it was only a cheap Sioux Veneer.

I'll send you on your festive way with a top Christmas tip courtesy of Take a Break:

one of the top tips of 2009, apparently

Jemma went shopping today for last minute gifts while I was in bed recovering from a night shift.  She got home at midday - not very quietly - and that was me up for the day.  However the bitter pill was sweetened when she said she'd found a book that was written with me in mind.

Is it Just Me or is Everything Shit?: The Encyclopedia of Modern Life

Alan McArthur

Get this book.  Get it now.  It's brilliant.

* This shouldn't be read by or to anyone expecting a jolly fat bloke down their chimney this year with a large sack that he'd like to empty under your tree.  You have been warned.  This particular blog entry contains grumpiness and misery.

I've got to thinking during the run up to this allegedly festive season, which according to some of the local councils here near where I live began in October when the street decorations were put up in readiness.  Have you noticed the similarities between Santa and Satan?

Ok, I've probably lost half (if there were any to begin with!) of the people reading this because of their disgust in me, but hear me out.

Santa

Satan

Same letters - just muddled up a bit.  Plus we all know the Underlord is partial to a couple of different names.  Anyway, further proof:

• Both wear red
• Both seemingly enjoy misery - I'll explain this one: Have you ever tried shopping close to Christmas?  I defy ANY of you to pay a visit to the Trafford Centre in Manchester, UK, and find me ONE person in there in a good mood (aside from the managers of the stores who are raking in the cash).  Find me ONE pleasant person (who isn't being paid to be pleasant).  Find me ONE person who actually wants to be there.  I was unfortunate enough to be there the other day and I SWEAR half the people in there had glowing red eyes.  I was my usual jovial self - manbag over one shoulder, scarf on, large frame, speaking only to one person in the place who DARED stop me to ask if I wanted Sky.  He was informed that if he stopped me again while I am walking, I would perform open-air surgery on his testicles and hand them to him wrapped up in a Sky TV contract.

Come on - it can't just be me that thinks this??  I've not bothered googling it because all google results come back with are useless adverts regarding products I don't want (thanks, Phorm), plus any other search engine seems to use results poured through google first. 

• Both see you when you're sleeping - creepy, eh?
• Both know if you have been bad or good...
• Both get you to do their bidding, and reward you with gifts
• Neither of them are susceptible to burns - Satan lives in Hell, whereas Santa can easily scoot down your chimney and not feel the singe of hot coals when you leave the fire on
• No-one's ever seen them in the same place at the same time

Give it some thought, before you leave out some mince pies and brandy.

Devilsanta

Bah humbug!

I found this picture on Photobucket - it was in someone called "DrWalpurgis"'s bucket.  If said person should see this image and be muchly pissed off that I have 'borrowed' it to prove my point, then please let me know.

The 60 kilometre drive from Cairns towards the equator is one of Australia's most scenic coastal journeys.  The coastal mountain range rises to 3000 feet on the left with the Coral Sea and Great Barrier Reef out to the right.

Destination Mossman is a little sugar cane town surrounded by lush rainforest, waterfalls, mist and cloud.
A location direct from the imagination movie set of my childhood.

Along the way there is;

Double Island

Wangetti beach

Two silly people up there in a sleeping bag.

A little pet's.....I hope....grave in the sand.

There is also, off to the right, and about to be engulfed in a rain shower, Port Douglas.

Port Douglas about to disappear for the first time.

Situated on a narrow isthmus, this incongruous tourist development is famous for attracting millionaires, American Presidents, and scoundrel entrepreneurs who feasted on the 1980's financial boom, and subsequently fled to Spain to avoid extradition to confront their fiscal sins.

Port Douglas has only one redeeming feature.

It is the home of genuine Aussie Mocka's pies.

Beyond that, I have my own little surprise for Port Douglas.

I am going to sever the peninsula just seaward of Mocka's boundary, then push the whole catastrophic hideousness, complete with it's flashing navigation beacon, out into the Pacific Ocean where it will navigate it's way on the prevailing westerlies through the Panama canal and attach itself to Miami where it will be with friends.

Blueprint for a miracle

I have a gut feeling the Pope is going to endow me with Australia's second sainthood for this.

http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,23739,26512112-5003402,00.html

Books prove prayer can cure cancer, says archbishop

TERMINAL illness such as cancer can be cured by prayer, the head of the Catholic Church in Australia said.