That’s weird, that’s queer, that’s crazy, that deserves a long hard look.
stunet wrote:From The New Yorker.
Thanks Stu good read confirms my biais.
Yes a good read, thanks Stu. Myside bias aside, I liked the quote: "As a rule, strong feelings about issues do not emerge from deep understanding”.
That’s weird, that’s queer, that’s crazy, that deserves a long hard look.
https://m.
This song has deep significance
I think
Why does he need so many people , to sing about raising dental floss in Montana ?
Stu’s post was an interesting read.
I don’t think anyone can remove their bias and have unbiased views. Some could comment on something without bias but opinion always comes with bias.
It’s an interesting topic.
No one on SN has successfully been bias free.
Scenes from my midday walk.
34 years ago the ditch leading to this drain was much deeper and wider.
34 years ago I was pulled from the backseat of a HQ wagon laying upside-down in that ditch with its front end hard up against the drain.
The crash itself didn't happen in slow motion though the lead up took a few hours. We were sitting in the Country Club fifty metres down the road having afternoon drinks when a voice came over the PA: "As it's Christmas, all drinks this afternoon will be $1."
As it's Christmas..? It was November 30th. Which makes a mockery of the twelve days of Christmas but we weren't going to look a gifthorse in the mouth and settled in with all the restraint of newly-loosed 18 year olds.
"I'll have twelve bourbon and cokes, thanks."
After a few hours, the party shifted over to the Tavern with no loss of momentum - from memory we'd even picked up a few new friends. Come closing time, we jumped straight into the car, two in the front, two in the back, and tried to find the half-built house we'd been sleeping in.
A digression: Four of us set off on a three week surf trip and didn't take a tent. These days I marvel when I walk around camp grounds and see rigs worth quarter-of-a-mill, comparing them unfavourably to my twenty buck board bag. Have we gone soft?
For some reason, our driver couldn't find the house even though it was only a street ot two from the tav. Discretion was never his strong point, which may explain why he did a burnout wheelie thing with a full car after six hours and fifty drinks.
My lasting memories were the car, first on two wheels, then on its roof, still moving, but coming to a dramatic halt with all the stuff in the back now in the front. I was pinned against a seat, bleeding from a surfboard fin cut to my ear. Fortunately it was our only injury.
The car, however, looked pretty well fucked. Once we dug out through the windows we stood around and looked at it upside-down in that ditch.
I don't remember the details, but locals gathered us up and took us down to the surf club, the old club, and let us sleep in the canvas bunks. The next morning I awoke, looked up the point, then walked over the golf course to see the car. Amazingly, there was a fella on a tractor pulling it backwards out of the ditch. Then I helped a bunch of gathered locals right it back on its wheels.
Apparently the Kempsey cops had already called around but they'd been given a story. Nudge nudge. Different times.
We ended up staying in town for a week waiting for a new radiator. We surfed a lot but I can't recall the point ever getting good during that stay. I also can't recall if we returned to the Country Club or Tav. Commonsense should dictate we learned a lesson but gathering wisdom wasn't on the trip's agenda. And hey, we were 18.
With a new radiator we set off again, only slightly inhibited by a bent right fender that made hard rights impossible, meaning roundabouts became five point turns.
Of course you can reverse on a roundabout. You can do anything when you're 18.
Bloody hell Stu! That's one impressive fin chop story!!
Glad you survived with a fair story and a life lesson.
Classic story Stu but could have ended up differently. The perceived immortality we all had as youth!
.
Ah family holidays revisiting your misspent youth. Nice work. Simpler times, people understood. Luck meant we lived to tell the tale.
stunet wrote:Scenes from my midday walk.
34 years ago the ditch leading to this drain was much deeper and wider.
34 years ago I was pulled from the backseat of a HQ wagon laying upside-down in that ditch with its front end hard up against the drain.
The crash itself didn't happen in slow motion though the lead up took a few hours. We were sitting in the Country Club fifty metres down the road having afternoon drinks when a voice came over the PA: "As it's Christmas, all drinks this afternoon will be $1."
As it's Christmas..? It was November 30th. Which makes a mockery of the twelve days of Christmas but we weren't going to look a gifthorse in the mouth and settled in with all the restraint of newly-loosed 18 year olds.
"I'll have twelve bourbon and cokes, thanks."
After a few hours, the party shifted over to the Tavern with no loss of momentum - from memory we'd even picked up a few new friends. Come closing time, we jumped straight into the car, two in the front, two in the back, and tried to find the half-built house we'd been sleeping in.
A digression: Four of us set off on a three week surf trip and didn't take a tent. These days I marvel when I walk around camp grounds and see rigs worth quarter-of-a-mill, comparing them unfavourably to my twenty buck board bag. Have we gone soft?
For some reason, our driver couldn't find the house even though it was only a street ot two from the tav. Discretion was never his strong point, which may explain why he did a burnout wheelie thing with a full car after six hours and fifty drinks.
My lasting memories were the car, first on two wheels, then on its roof, still moving, but coming to a dramatic halt with all the stuff in the back now in the front. I was pinned against a seat, bleeding from a surfboard fin cut to my ear. Fortunately it was our only injury.
The car, however, looked pretty well fucked. Once we dug out through the windows we stood around and looked at it upside-down in that ditch.
I don't remember the details, but locals gathered us up and took us down to the surf club, the old club, and let us sleep in the canvas bunks. The next morning I awoke, looked up the point, then walked over the golf course to see the car. Amazingly, there was a fella on a tractor pulling it backwards out of the ditch. Then I helped a bunch of gathered locals right it back on its wheels.
Apparently the Kempsey cops had already called around but they'd been given a story. Nudge nudge. Different times.
We ended up staying in town for a week waiting for a new radiator. We surfed a lot but I can't recall the point ever getting good during that stay. I also can't recall if we returned to the Country Club or Tav. Commonsense should dictate we learned a lesson but gathering wisdom wasn't on the trip's agenda. And hey, we were 18.
With a new radiator we set off again, only slightly inhibited by a bent right fender that made hard rights impossible, meaning roundabouts became five point turns.
Of course you can reverse on a roundabout. You can do anything when you're 18.
man, if you're our age or older, you've survived some crazy stupid shit.. makes for introspective reflections.. here's a wholesome palate cleanser, the antics of youth mit jobbletops and masks.. castle douglas is a joyless place, but I spent some time in a cool nearby town pronounced Ker-koo-bree.. (try being an Aussie and yelling at people "Is this the way to 'Curt Cud Broit?'" and experience people looking haunted and shepherding any nearby children in the opposite direction). Won't add any stories, but with the Gulf Stream mentions today, just a bit o' Bob:
Influencer being an influencer.
https://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/real-life/news-life/influencer-roasted...