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9月7日 Update your links lovely readersDear all
as many of you know, we have been experiencing some issues lately. MSN doesn't load. We get internal server errors. We get catastrophic errors. We get asked to "Stand by".
I for one am sick of this. It sucks not being able to update my blog. It really does.
Accordingly, I have found a new blog thingy. It even allows me to do Google ads and earn money. Huzzah! The editing process is a bit more complicated than using MSN, but it's fully customisable html, you can use javascript, all sorts of nerdy goodness. I will slowly be taking down bits of this blog as I work out how to transfer them to the new blog. And all new posts will be on the new blog (after this one). There's one there for you to read already.
And so, dear readers, I ask you to update your links - particularly those of you who are lovely enough to have linked to my site from yours - to my new blog url
May this new forum be uninterrupted by catastrophic errors. This blog has been fun. The new one will be better.
For those of you who use RSS, I am currently working on adding an RSS feed to the new site. I promise it will be up and running soon.
As MB said in her drunken state last night, I love you all.
Bek
PS don't forget, update those links! O crap, it's WednesdayI woke up this morning at 6.43 am on the rocket clock, and briefly lay here with my eyes half open in a pleasant daze, thinking "how nice, it's Sunday, I don't have to get up" (possibly because the amount of alcohol consumed last night made it feel like a Sunday). The reality kicked in, I realised it was Wednesday and that I do, in fact, have to get up and go to work. Damn it. I never could get the hang of Wednesdays.
I also realised that sending drunk text messages to everyone you know asking them who they had a shameful crush on in the 80s may result in people, er, thinking you're a little odd. Especially when it's a Tuesday and they may not realise you were very pissy. 9月6日 What's in a name?As Bart pointed out, a rose wouldn't smell as sweet if it was called a stench blossom.
Laoch posted a comment on one of my earlier posts saying the authors of Freakonomics had done some research into a theory related to my you-only-end-up-on-the-front-page-of-the-paper-dead-or-as-a-convicted-drug-dealer-if-you-have-a-stupid-name theory - theirs was that your name doesn't affect your future success.
Well, bollocks to that, I say. I have invented a new way of testing the criminal potential of a name. Prospective parents take note.
This is what you do. Go the the Magistrates' Court website search page, where you can search the court listings
You can search by informant (the person bringing the case, generally a Police officer), and defendant. Pick a name - say, Earl. Search for Earl as a defendant. Six cases with a defendant called Earl. Clearly, if your name is Earl you are more than likely to end up on the wrong side of the law. It's not like it's a common name.
I am morally neutral. There are no Rebekkas as defendants. Spell my name (ugh, shudder) with Cs however, and you end up with a long list. But then again, it's quite a common name. What we really need to do is work out a way of comparing how many people are called the name with how many end up in court. To do this, we can go to a name statistics website. It is American, but we'll assume it's relatively accurate, for the purposes of this exercise. Apparently 0.43% of women in the U.S. are called Rebecca.
There are around 200 cases in the Melbourne Magistrates' Court on Friday, none of the defendants are called Rebecca. That's less than 0.43% (duh!), so it's clearly not a very criminal name.
Let's see. Michael. My brother's name. 2.629% of men are called Michael. There are four cases on Friday with defendants called Michael, which is 2%, which is less than the population statistic, so Michael is clearly not a very criminal name either.
0.562% of women are called Ruth, yet none are in court on Friday. Ruths clearly behave themselves (or else they have diplomatic immunity and don't end up in the magys)
MB is a surprisingly rare name - there are no available statistics. And no defendants.
So what are the (alleged) criminal names? After extensive research, I am bound to tell you that you are more likely to end up in court if your name is Shane, Sharon, Wendy-Lee, Tracie, Ashlie, Delilah, Candice or Flowers.
Surprisingly - and possibly contrary to my theory - I noticed a lot of Christians as I was first looking through the list. I've only ever met two Christians (and am bound to point out that neither of them are criminals, and I like them both, despite the fact that my friends all wish to stab one of them with a fork*), and so was surprised to see so many as I browsed the court listings. Upon doing some more extensive research, I note that 0.065% of men are called Christian, yet 1% of the cases on Friday have a defendant called Christian. Clearly more likely than average to end up in the dock. Since my brother and sister-in-law were thinking of naming the new baby (if it's a boy) Christian Xavier (to annoy my grandmother, mostly, who objects to Catholic-sounding names and was most objecting to my first nephew being called Benedict), I shall have to warn them of the possible alleged criminal tendencies of this name.
*There will be no stabbing with cutlery, you wenches. Even if he and I never speak again, I still don't want you hurting him with utensils. You hear me? Once there was a way, to get back homewardJust as you can never step twice in the same river, so you can never return home.
The word nostalgia, from the Greek Nostos - homecoming, and algos - pain, grief, distress, has come to mean a saccharine longing for the past, but the word in fact originally had a meaning specifically associated with the homecoming of seafaring men - specifically in literature with Odysseus's men and homecoming. Ten years fighting the Trojans, and ten years wandering as they tried to get back home would have certainly have invoked some home sickness, but the word did not refer to homesickness as such - it was about the pain of returning home, not longing to return home.
Actually the word is also related to the Sanskrit nasate, meaning "he approaches" - I am always utterly fascinated by the relationships between languages. I wish I had done Latin and Greek at school instead of useless bloody Australian Studies and English classes that made me want to commit hari kiri. But I digress.
Why is homecoming painful? Well, for some of the Greeks there were probably good reasons why it was painful. Agamemnon, for example, got an axe in the head. That's gotta hurt.
Mind you, he had killed his daughter before he left, spent twenty years away from home, and brough a Trojan hussy with him when he returned, which is enough to make any wife go for the axe, really (mind you, she hadn't exactly been faithful while he was away either).
Apart from possibly getting an axe to the head, why exactly would homecoming be painful? My guess is it's because home is never as you have imagined it. What you have been thinking on those long nights at sea (apart from "Where'd I put my boy butter?", or "Who's going to make me their bitch?") is not going to match up to the reality of home, which even if you were entirely realistic in your imaginings, has changed since you left anyway.
Perhaps this explains why I feel at the moment that I don't belong in my life. I can't get back home because the concept of home is transitory and where I want to be no longer exists.
Or perhaps it's just because someone stole my ruby slippers.
More great parenting tipsOnce you've named your children Symphony and Sincere, or perhaps Jai, Tyler, and Bailey or Schapelle and Mercedes, or Tudor and Della, and had them end up in disasterous circumstances on the front page of the paper, good parenting can continue apace.
Perhaps you could teach your children to recognise cigarette brands - while feeding them Lucky Charms. I don't know which is worse, frankly.
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