by Richard Timothy | Jun 10, 2011 | Nearly News, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
One of the things about news stations in the US is that 99% of the time (or more) news about what is going on around the world doesn’t get reported to us. This has caused me to occasionally peruse headlines from around the world to see if the reporting in other parts of the world is a pointless as it is here in the states. Over the past week I’ve found a few stories from the other side of the world from a culture of people who, according to Douglas Adams (in his Last Change to See book), are very keen in assuring you that no matter what is going on in any given situation that there is nothing to worry about. This is commonly expressed in the form of the continent’s catch phrase, “No worries.”
Yes this week’s Smirk comes to you with much gratitude from the wonderful land called Australia. As it turns out, I have a few friends in Australia, friends I have not yet met, but someday hope to. And from the little correspondence I have had with them, I must admit that my overall opinion is that Australia is filled with nothing but kind, friendly people who enjoy a drink every now and again. I am sure there are some people that do a very good job thwarting this perspective about Australians, but I have yet to meet any of them. One thing I know about the country with much tested certainty is… they make a damn tasty Shiraz.
And it is that damn that brings me to my first amusing headline about the goings on in Australia:
Damn! Aussies to be fined for swearing
In the state of Victoria, the country’s second most populated state legislation is expected to pass that will allow the police issue on-the-spot fines for obnoxious swearing, fines that can reach up to $240AUS ($257US). To me the key identifier in this law is the word obnoxious, which does bring up a number of questions for me. My first concern is that this law is open to a huge range of personal interpretation on what is considered obnoxious. If you have one officer that was raised in a very strict home where profanity was strictly prohibited their view on what is considered obnoxious swearing is going to be very different from someone who comes from a family of sailors. (Yes it is my universal belief that all sailors no matter where they come from are masters in the art of profanity.)
The law is intended to be targeted towards obnoxious, offensive behavior in public, but personally I find it much more offensive and obnoxious when I’m in a restaurant and a couple comes in with a set of ill-behaved children and are seated at the table right next to me. Then for the remainder of my meal, me and every other table around me has to deal with a baby crying or a four year whining about not wanting to eat its food. I find this a hell of a lot more obnoxious than a drunken person cursing at the “Don’t Walk” light because no light is going to tell them what the hell they can or can’t do. Honestly, which is the more obnoxious, offensive behavior in public?
Some of the most obnoxious language I’ve ever heard comes from people that don’t utter a single curse word. Seriously, all you have to do is start talking politics with someone that doesn’t share your political views and you will soon be engaged in one of the most obnoxious conversations of the year. Granted, at some point I’m sure profanity will ensue, but there are a few rare exceptions where the lack or profanity remains, which creates a more obnoxious encounter because let’s face it profanity offers certain emotional venting avoiding to swear only increases the tension.
Another question, is this only spoken profanity? If you are wearing a tee shirt that has profanity written on it… can you get a fine? What about people with Tourette’s syndrome? Are they excluded from this law? If not, why not? If so, could you get a Tourette’s card that allows you to swear obnoxiously in public without fear of breaking the law? (That’s right here at Smirk I’m willing to ask the tough questions that seem random as hell, but now that I mention it you know there are others out there who are going to be wondering the same thing… and now, thanks to me, you’re one of them.)
I can tell you this; I personally think that passing this law would automatically remove any and all chances of the state of Victoria ever hosting a World Cup. I don’t think there is a police force large enough to attempt to issue British football (soccer) fans during a World Cup a ticket for obnoxious profanity. Obnoxious profanity and sports go together like vegans and tofu, trees and forests, fish and the ocean or cat juggling and clawed arms. They belong together and I think trying to take that away would risk damning the sports world forever, at least in the state of Victoria.
My next Australian story held the following headline:
Aussie woman, 89, beats off bandit with handbag
In short, three women, ages 71, 82 and 89, were chatting away in an underground car park in Melbourne on May 26. They were approached by a man who pulled out a knife and held it to the throat of the 82 year old. What happened next? Well, the 89 year old, without even giving it a thought, swung her handbag smacking the assailant in the face. The 82 year admitted, “I tried to kick him in the groin, but I could not move my leg far enough or high enough.” The man kept yelling at the old ladies to give him their bags, but the ladies refused, continuing their defensive assault toward the man.
The mugger finally fled after a man passing by ran to the defense of ladies. However the 71 year old friend kept an eye on the fleeing man and memorized his plate number as he drove away. Unfortunately, the car turned out to be stolen so the attempted robber was not caught. The police were rather impressed by the women and deservedly so. The 82 year old did receive a small cut on her hand, but fortunately it did not require any medical treatment.
I’ll admit that the visual I get of these three ladies attacking this unsuspecting mugger with their handbags and failed groin kicks, and walking away from it not just unscathed (minus a small battle cut) is not only poetic, genius, and smile inducing, but it fills me with the satisfying reassurance that one is never too old to be a bad-ass. I tip my hats to you ladies. You are an inspiration. And thank you Australia, for creating some news that has kept me smirking all week. Cheers.
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: reporter, officer writing ticket, arguing politics, old lady with handbag, and Australia.
© Richard Timothy 2011
by Richard Timothy | Jun 2, 2011 | Nearly News, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
Every now and again I’ll find a news story that puts a smile on my face, something that is clearly smirk inspiring and worth sharing. So for today’s Smirk I thought I’d share a story of an alligator, lurking in a Kansas suburb, spotted by kids, reported by parents and confronted by the police. In the end a few shots were fired, and the gator remains at large, just not as large as he was before the shots were fired.
When I think of the word gator a few things come to mind. The first is the much expressed hate for Gators fans in the film Big Trouble, based on the Dave Barry’s first novel. The second thing that comes to mind is the saying the every American learns at some point in their youth and is said every chance they get for a two week period during the period in grade school that you first learn it. The saying of course is, “See you later alligator. After a while crocodile.” Ah the joys of an easily entertained youth.
This story takes place in a Kansas City suburb, which I have seen! Ok so I probably haven’t seen this specific Kansas City suburb, but did spend a week in Kansas City once a decade or so ago, so at least I do know what a Kansas City suburb looks like. Here is what I remember most about that trip, going to a River Boat casino and spending $20 on the slots, walking out with $18 in change (every I won I put the winnings in my left pocket, when $20 in my right pocket was gone, I was done gambling). I remember watch the play Forever Plaid with a bunch of old people that knew all the songs. I remember going to the dog tracks and winning $12 on some funny named dog that my friend said would never win. And I remember staying up until 3AM every night watching MST3K. All in all, a pretty damn good trip… thanks again Ryan. I will, however, state for the record that I did not see any gators while I was visiting.
This story comes begins with an evening call to the local police department from a parent in a Kansas City suburb, on the Missouri side. The caller reported that an alligator had been spotted, by his children, in some weeds close to a nearby pond. The police were dispatched right away, but by the time the police arrived it was starting to get dark limiting their visibility. The gator was still in the area that it had been spotted and the police were advised by a conservation agent to kill the gator if the police felt it posed a threat. Now I don’t know about you, but if there was a local pond that the neighborhood kids played by and/or in, and an alligator was discovered hiding in the brush close by, I’d probably consider that a bit of a threat… turned out the police agreed.
It was after the second shot to the gators head with no reaction whatsoever from the giant lizard that the policed ventured a bit closer. It was then that they realized that the gator was a fake. The owner of the property told the police that the fake gator with installed to keep people off his property. At this point all I can do is picture some crotchety old man in overalls, sitting in a rocking chair on his front porch with a tall glass of lemonade in one hand, a shotgun with rock salt shells in the other hand and a bottle of whiskey sitting next to him to help bring out the flavor of the lemonade, all the while yelling at all those damn kids to get off his lawn.
I’m guessing the owner was a little bothered that the police had opted to take pot shots at his devious lawn ornament, to which the officers replied that a no-trespassing sign would have been a wiser way to encourage people to stay off his land. I would that if the owner is immensely fond of his fake lawn scare toy that cosmetic surgery for the chipped gator will be scheduled for later this month. And there you have it; the true story about a fake gator who took two real shots to his fake head by the real local police to stop a fake lurking menace that looked real.
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: reading newspaper, alligator on land, and fake alligator.
© Richard Timothy 2011
by Richard Timothy | May 17, 2011 | I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
Today’s Smirk is brought you by one of my higher educational facilities from my art school days. At this point in my life I was on the path to becoming an artist, as in fine art, painting, drawing, pottery, things like that. So why am I not an artist now, simple, I wasn’t terribly good at it, I wasn’t terribly bad either, but that’s the nice thing about art it is possible to make a career out of producing art that is not terribly good, and in some cases is quite awful. There are a number of great artists out there, and as I was about to get a degree in this field of creativity I realized that I wasn’t terribly interested in trying to achieve greatness in the art world. Still, it didn’t stop me from getting my art degree.
The thing about being an art student is that I got to spend four hours a week looking at and drawing naked people. Usually it’s the men that go, “Oh, well that explains it,” but let me explain this constant little failure of realization when the words “art”, “drawing” and “naked people” are introduced to a sentence… you don’t get to choose your models, and in a small two year college in northern Wyoming you took whoever was willing to model for $10 an hour, which for the first half of the first semester meant Floyd the 65 year old retired guy who didn’t really need the money, but was bored ever since he retired and thought it was a nice way to meet new people.
Once you get past the initial “I’m drawing a naked person” novelty, which in most cases lasts about a minute, the exercise of drawing does become your focus. Sure when a new model shows up there is always a hint of excitement, but it was the exact same excitement I got when I would get to class where we were painting the same bowl of fruit for a week and I realized that instead of that same damn green apple, someone had replaced it with an orange. It just meant that I got to draw something a little different, and in class it was the variety is what you began to look forward to.
The funny thing is that I had no intention of bringing up naked people in any why when I started writing this… ah such is the joy of creative artistic license. It’s just that I remember this one class in particular my last year at school there, make that one teach in particular and it was all thanks to a couple of puffy happy clouds that happened to catch eye of my professor. First off, no, my painting instructor was not Bob Ross, but for the record I would have loved it if it had been. There is something about watching old Bob Ross reruns on PBS that brings a smile to my face, a calmness to my core, and a cure for any insomnia that anyone is capable of suffering from.
It was during my drive home from work today that I noticed some clouds clouds in the sky, which has a tendency to bring me back to that memorable afternoon all those years ago. My painting class was two hours long right after lunch twice a week. On this specific occasion we were half way through the class. As each person painted away, our professor started walking around the room to check on how everyone was doing. As he did so he was soon filled with the need to lecture about some metaphysical art is life tangent that he loved to talk about to impressionable young artists. He did this a lot, and as students we learned that when this tangent started, we would stop what we were doing and listen quietly until he was done, or until the class ended for the day. It was always a tossup once he started up.
On this particular afternoon our professor was a touch, well… I refuse to say that my art teacher smoked any glaucoma clearing medications. For the record I never witnessed him partaking in any illegal substances, however I do feel it pertinent to add for the sake of this story that in my opinion his behavior from time to time seemed somewhat in congruency with the behavior of someone who enjoyed seasoning his life with a certain natural herb that can be used in California for back pain… as long as you find a doctor that supports your willingness to support smoking pot… for “medical” reasons of course.
On this particular day, let’s just say the questionable behavior was being laid on a bit thick, and by a bit thick I mean he could have been a character in a Cheech and Chong film. I was already starting to smile as he perused through the classroom commenting on the vivid colors in one students painting, and the movements of the lines in another’s painting. Soon he was calling for everyone to stop painting and to listen to him for a minute.
As art tangent began I was finding it rather difficult to keep a straight face. Then, as another student leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Is he high?” my first laugh escaped. A roomful of eyes all focused on me and our teacher stopped talking a moment to follow everyone else’s gaze to me. He was grinning from ear to ear, “What?” was all he could manage. All I could come up with was, “Nothing, art just makes me happy is all.” The teacher got a big smile on his face as if he was a little surprised that there was someone else who felt the same way him did about art and replied joyously, “Me too!” This got a laugh from the entire class, and now with a class room full of students with a case of the giggles he carried on his art tangent.
Then as he was in the middle of going on about capturing the essence of art in every piece of art you do and the importance of painting what you see, his eye wandered out of one of the small windows along the only wall in the studio that had any windows. They were very important because they “let in natural sunlight in” when we would paint. His eyes stopped and focused on a small group of clouds hanging out in the sky, neatly framed by one of the windows. This is what I remember him saying when this happened, “… so the essence of art is capturing what you… woah, look at those clouds. They’re amazing, so puffy and… and happy. I wish we could go out and just capture them right now.”
“Ok!” I yelled out as I gabbed my sketchbook and headed ran out the nearest door, which lead right outside. It was all I could think to do to cover up the fact that I had lost it at this point. I remember seeing the professors eyes get really big as complete surprise filled his entire face as I looked behind me as I headed out the door. I laughed for a good three or four minutes, trying to get it out of my system before heading back into class. As I walked back it, my teacher started laughing happily as he walked up to me and put his arm around me, “I didn’t mean right now,” he chuckled. “Ohhh,” I replied. He laughed again and exclaimed to the whole class, “You’ve got to be so careful what you say around this guy,” and laughed some more. A few moments later the bell rang and class was over, everyone laughing to themselves as they put away their paintings for the day all of us smiling at the performance we witnessed that afternoon.
Shortly after, it became a bit of a daily bet between some of the students on whether or not he would show up at class that discombobulated again, come graduation he still hadn’t. Not to say he never came to class acting that way again, just not acting that way as strongly as he did on “Puffy Happy Cloud” day. It was by far his most notable performance. I was never disappointed by his lack of a repeat performance, it seemed mute in retrospect, besides he had given me one of my most memorable art school moments and I’ve never looked at puffy happy clouds the same way since. Thanks teach.
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: happy clouds, happy trees, Cheech and Chong, and looking at clouds.
© Richard Timothy 2011
by Richard Timothy | May 5, 2011 | I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
With so many things going on in the world I thought I use today’s Smirk to bring the world together by sharing a theory I have about automobiles. The theory is one that I think most people who have ever driven an automobile might be able to relate to at some point in the life, and the older I get the more it rings true. The theory is in reference to automobiles… instant asshole, just add driver.
Now, I’m not saying this is the case all the time for everyone. If anything it is the case once in a great while for most people, and a common occurrence for very few people every day. I will be the first to admit that I am not exempt from this rule, specifically because I was a teenage driver, which in my case means that the older I get the less frequent my bouts of assholedness while driving. Grated, I did spend a five year period riding my bike around because I could not afford a car, which I think helped equal me out for some of my driving maneuvers in my youth.
When we get behind the wheel of a car there are certain transformational urges that happen, for example… puddles. When it’s been raining and I see a big puddle by the side of the road and have a ridiculously intense compulsion to alter my course about a foot to the right so I can speed though that gathering of calm water creating a tidal wave of nasty street water covering anything in its path. Now if there is a person standing next to that puddle, well this is the true test of what kind of person you really are. Even in these situations where I just drive past, I find I’m gritting my teeth tightly, as if my intellect is battling my instinct to keep control of the situation and avoid splashing some complete stranger simply because they are in the wrong place at the right time.
In all of my driving experience though, I think the parking lot breeds more vehicle induced assholes than any other driving scenario… except maybe Mario Kart. Here is one parking lot faux pas that always bothers me… when someone with a handicap parking sticker on their car drives past all the open and available handicap parking spots and parks in the closest normal parking spot. Look, I’m not going to judge you for parking in a handicap spot if you have that sticker saying you are welcome to do so, but if you decide not to park in those aptly available designated parking spots and take mine instead, you can bet I’m going to be judging you. Not for being handicap mind you, but for being an ass.
The parking spot thief is one of the biggest assholes found in a parking lot. Here’s what I mean, a little while ago my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh and I were in the parking lot of a rather busy store one Saturday afternoon. We noticed that someone was leaving so we patiently waited, with our blinker on signaling to everyone around us that we were waiting for the spot that was becoming available. As the person in the spot backed out of it and maneuvering around us to flee the insanity of that parking lot some guy in a forest green Subaru came in from the other direction and pulled into the spot right as the other person was leaving, and driving around us. It was the most classic “I’m an asshole” move I’ve ever witnessed in any parking lot. The thing was that there was an open spot just two parking spaces down directly across from where he parked. We were baffled at the necessity this crotchety old man had to be such an ass.
I remember noticing a “Clear air” environments logo on his license plate, which got me laughing. A stereotype I usually attach to people that fall under environmentalist category is that of a person that wants planets and people to live together in peace and harmony… it would appear in this one’s case that does not include having people living together in harmony on this planet. I will say he was very strategic in avoiding eye contact with us as he walked past us on his way to the store.
At my current job, we have “expectant mother” parking spots just past the handicap spots, which are just past the executive parking spots… yeah I know, apparently there’s something about being an executive that a person more needy than the handicap and expectant mothers. Still trying to figure out what that is though. The point I want to make is about the “expectant mother” parking spots. Women at my work place can get a pass that allows them to park in these designated spots during their pregnancy, which I think is great. What I struggle with is when an expectant father has his doctor buddy write him a note so that he, the father to be not the doctor, can get one of these passes to park in the “expectant mother” spots. Seriously, if someone is that lazy it’s amazing to me how their sperm ever had the endurance to fertilize and egg let alone swim all that distance to get to the egg in the first place.
Don’t get me wrong, parking lots can supply some comedic highlights as well, people singing along to their favorite song while waiting for someone to come out of the store in one such highlight. However, this only works if the singers windows are rolled up and you can’t hear them singing or the music being played. I must say that I am always filled with pride with watching these “parkers” and I am able to identify the song they are singing (this usually only happens as a result of both of us listening to the same radio station, but still it is a rewarding). Another similar situation is when someone is arguing with someone on the phone over their Bluetooth headset. All you really see is the over animated hand gestures and a lot of extraneously distorted facial expressions and shouts. I think the only equivalent to this would be watching a mime on crack.
I also feel compelled to point out… has anyone else noticed the irony that the most devoid place of any Christmas spirit is in a department store’s parking lot during the Christmas season? It’s pure chaos in all its ruthless and dysfunctional glory.
Over the years though it does seem that the more time a person spends in a car the more likely they are to cross over to the driving dark side. I’ve met a lot of wonderful people that I hope to never ever get to drive with again, it’s was like witnessing a Jekyll and Hyde transformation, which always happened the second they got behind the drivers wheel. Cars are helpful tools in our society, I get that, but if you’ll pardon this soap box moment, I think we’d all be better off sending as much time out of them as possible… I suppose you could call this my two week late Earth Day message for this year.
For me, these days I do my best to avoid driving offensively or defensively. I do my best to drive karmically as much as possible. Since I’ve started adopting this driving style, I noticed that I’m much calmer and happier during the time I spend behind the wheel of my car.
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: angry driver, grumpy man, yelling on cell, car splashing, and driving happy.
© Richard Timothy 2011
by Richard Timothy | Apr 27, 2011 | I Think There's a Point, Nearly News, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
My first experience with partaking in the crass entertainment of the verbal art know as profanity was, like most people I know, a parroted response that I had picked up from spending time with adults. My education in profanity is most apparent from the years I spent visiting my grandparents. My grandmother had a gift for dropping things in the kitchen and then cursing under her breath as the dropped item clanged, crashed, or shattered on the floor. When my brother and I would hear these words our eyes would grow in “she said a swear” surprise and then we would start to giggle, which seems to be the standard when for people who choose not partake in profanity. Every time I swear around my non-swearing friends, family, strangers… the random religion peddler that knocks on my door, they always giggle when I include profanity in my conversations with them, which let’s face it, only encourages me to swear more around them… and Smirk.
Swearing or not swearing is usually a choice. Some reject it on grounds of being offensive, which never made much sense to me since the most offensive things I’ve ever heard in my life had no profanity in them what so ever. Other people embrace profanity and make it apart of their everyday vocabulary. There are however some situations where swearing becomes more reactionary than choice.
For example, the first time I said shit was a result of me hitting my thumb with a hammer. The pain shot to my brain and my brain responded by making me yell “shit” very loudly without consulting me first to see if I was ok with that. The fact that I had sworn so proficiently and with no effort on my part was more surprising to me than the pain from smashing my thumb… at least for a while.
Likewise, I have heard stories were a fair amount of colorful metaphors are loudly flung at every person in the delivery room from the lady in the metal stirrups in the middle of the room. Granted most of these words are directed toward the man that had assisted in getting her is this current situation, but I’ve also been told that anyone who says “breathe” to the expectant mother is usually met with insinuations that they belong to the canine family, are of the female persuasion, and had better “shut it.” Turns out there is probably a good chance that none of that profanity was intended to be hurtful, quite the opposite actually, at least according to a new study I read about in Time this past week, profanity reduces pain.
Richard Stephens, a psychologist at Keele University in England, published a study where he took 67 students and had them stick their hands in cold water; bloody cold water at that. Just for the record these students were volunteers as opposed to having Stephens randomly kidnapping students and having them place their hands in cold water while they slept, which I think produces entirely different results… and a court hearing. During this exercise they students would chant a non-swear word while their hand was immersed in the cold water. They would pull their hand out of the water once the pain got too much for them to handle.
During round two, after their fingers and hands had returned to their normal temperature, the students were asked to say a profanity of their choice over and over again while their hand was immerged the cold water. The result, the students said the pain was less and on an average the students endured the cold 40 seconds longer than they did when they were not swearing.
What words of wisdom did Stephens offer after he had completed his study? “I would advise people, if they hurt themselves, to swear.”
So the next time you get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, or get a midnight snack, or for whatever reason and you accidentally stub your toe in the dark, follow the example of Ralphie of A Christmas Story fame and just say it:
“Oooh fuuudge! Only I didn’t say “Fudge.” I said THE word, the big one, the queen-mother of dirty words, the ‘F-dash-dash-dash’ word!”
It may not be polite, or “civilized speech,” or the type of language a good person should use, but it will help you feel better, damn it.
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: swear words, hitting hand with hammer, and hand in ice water.
© Richard Timothy 2011
by Richard Timothy | Apr 20, 2011 | Borrowed Smirk, Nearly News, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
I don’t know about you, but when I think Disney, the first thing that always comes to mind… “Jedi training”. Ok fine, truth is I’ve never connected Jedi’s to Disney in my entire life… that is until yesterday. I came across a little news blurb about an event that happened at the Jedi Training Academy at Disneyland (Tomorrowland) that was just, well, so strong in the force that I couldn’t help but Smirk about it.
So apparently this Jedi Training Academy is a live-action show where volunteers, kids ages 4 to 12, are randomly selected from the audience to become Padawans, aka Jedi’s in training, aka the little ones who have yet to take off the training wheels from their “force” filled bicycle of life. To those Star Wars purists who may feel a twinge of rage as the complete and utter blatant disregard for true Padawan selection, just remember it’s for the kids and it is Disney, so it will never be a true representation of reality… especially when that reality is completely made up.
The audience selected Padawans are taken on stage where they don the Padawan dirt colored robe and begin to train with a “Jedi Master”. As an audience member, aka the kids not selected to go on stage or the parents to the kid either not selected to go on stage or to one of the kids on stage, you get to sit and watch the little people in their brown robes recite the sacred Jedi Oath.
But wait! That’s not all! You also get to stare in amazement as these kids are trained by a “true” Jedi Master in “ancient battle techniques” using their light sabers. Ok, now I’ll admit watching a bunch of little kids run around on stage trying to whack the other Padawans on stage is a plastic light saber just reeks of comedic value… like the four year olds at a dance recital, there is not telling what the outcome will be, but you know you are going to laugh.
So after the getting geared up, after the Oath, and after the light saber training finally comes the conflict, a disturbance in the force. Followed by a cameo by the man in black himself… no, the other man in black, not the original man in black. I just can’t imagine a bunch of 4 to 12 year olds getting all that excited about seeing a Johnny Cash look alike, although for the record I’m pretty sure he could have beaten Vader down. Anyway, so Darth shows up leading a bunch of Stormtroopers.
This beings the climax of the show, where one of the newly Oathed and Trained Padawans gets the honor of facing off with the Lord or the Dark Side. Sounds a little daunting doesn’t it? Well earlier this year as the battle was reaching its peak; a young aspiring Padawan Sariah Gallego was selected to battle Darth Vader on the stage in front of everyone. She walked straight up to the intimidating Dark Lord and as they stood face to face, the faithful Padawan dropped to one knee and pledged her allegiance to the Dark Lord. (There is also a video of this exchange available, click here.)
According to the news blurb the young and now former Padawan was then promptly escorted off stage. I can only hope she kept yelling, “Die you rebel scum!” as she was pulled off stage. Ah, there is nothing like placing an unscripted child into a controlled Disney environment to give you a nice refreshing splash of reality. Personally, I think the force is really rather strong with that one.
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: Jedi Training Academy, kneeling before Darth Vader, and Fairy Vader.
© Richard Timothy 2011
One of the things about news stations in the US is that 99% of the time (or more) news about what is going on around the world doesn’t get reported to us. This has caused me to occasionally peruse headlines from around the world to see if the reporting in other parts of the world is a pointless as it is here in the states. Over the past week I’ve found a few stories from the other side of the world from a culture of people who, according to Douglas Adams (in his Last Change to See book), are very keen in assuring you that no matter what is going on in any given situation that there is nothing to worry about. This is commonly expressed in the form of the continent’s catch phrase, “No worries.” 
Yes this week’s Smirk comes to you with much gratitude from the wonderful land called Australia. As it turns out, I have a few friends in Australia, friends I have not yet met, but someday hope to. And from the little correspondence I have had with them, I must admit that my overall opinion is that Australia is filled with nothing but kind, friendly people who enjoy a drink every now and again. I am sure there are some people that do a very good job thwarting this perspective about Australians, but I have yet to meet any of them. One thing I know about the country with much tested certainty is… they make a damn tasty Shiraz.
In the state of Victoria, the country’s second most populated state legislation is expected to pass that will allow the police issue on-the-spot fines for obnoxious swearing, fines that can reach up to $240AUS ($257US). To me the key identifier in this law is the word obnoxious, which does bring up a number of questions for me. My first concern is that this law is open to a huge range of personal interpretation on what is considered obnoxious. If you have one officer that was raised in a very strict home where profanity was strictly prohibited their view on what is considered obnoxious swearing is going to be very different from someone who comes from a family of sailors. (Yes it is my universal belief that all sailors no matter where they come from are masters in the art of profanity.) 
Some of the most obnoxious language I’ve ever heard comes from people that don’t utter a single curse word. Seriously, all you have to do is start talking politics with someone that doesn’t share your political views and you will soon be engaged in one of the most obnoxious conversations of the year. Granted, at some point I’m sure profanity will ensue, but there are a few rare exceptions where the lack or profanity remains, which creates a more obnoxious encounter because let’s face it profanity offers certain emotional venting avoiding to swear only increases the tension. 
In short, three women, ages 71, 82 and 89, were chatting away in an underground car park in Melbourne on May 26. They were approached by a man who pulled out a knife and held it to the throat of the 82 year old. What happened next? Well, the 89 year old, without even giving it a thought, swung her handbag smacking the assailant in the face. The 82 year admitted, “I tried to kick him in the groin, but I could not move my leg far enough or high enough.” The man kept yelling at the old ladies to give him their bags, but the ladies refused, continuing their defensive assault toward the man. 
