Friday Funny

The waiter was deadpan. It was funny to me, but what I think is AI at the end of the guy almost spitting out his coffee, just made it.

I'm away for a few days, and I'm staying next to a cemetery. I doubt my sleep will be disturbed by noisy neighbours across the road, and I'm sure there will be an interesting walk among the dead.  

Catch ya soon, me maties.

Hashtag I hate Trump

Another old unpublished post is set free.

It seems like California is the most progressive state in the US. It is certainly the largest by population and by economy. CA is the power house state in the US. Yet, how often has the President visited the state during his second term in office. Just once, in 2025 after the terrible Los Angeles fires, and even then tried to blame the state government for the fires. 

So why? Is he too old to travel? Or is that he knows he is generally hated on the west coast and there are no votes to be gained by visiting these states?

This question arose in my mind because I never hear a news story about #47 in California. I've never heard it reported that #47 avoids the west coast, but when my suspicions were confirmed by a little checking, it really is extraordinary that he never visits the most populous and economic powerhouse state. 

Of 59 interstate trips, (after discounting Florida, where he be visiting his ghastly gilt 'palace') in 2025 he made only one visit to California.

Of  15 trips, so far this year, none have been to California.

This would be unheard of in Australia, although at times federal politicians do tend avoid states where they are unpopular, but they know they must at the least fly the flag at times.

Aside from enriching himself and his cohorts, I don't understand why he is trying to destroy democracy, inclusion, world respect for the US, its long kinship with Canada, the decent hard working poor, the less fortunate in society, in fact alienating everyone he possibly can, except for his demented MAGA folk, the Basket of Deplorables.

I once thought it would not take long for the US to recover after #47, but now I am less certain. Other countries, as the learnt lesson was to future proof themselves during Covid, have now diversified their economies from the US. 

It is not just #47. It is the Republican Party that tolerates his outrageousness, the Democrats who vote for his policies and don't call him out. Worst of all is the 1/3 of voters, 77 million, who actually voted for #47.

A tax cheat, a multiple bankrupt, a rapist, a paedophile and the creator of ICE, which is like a paramilitary army, that kill US citizens who have done nothing wrong, and a war monger.

I just don't understand but what I do understand is that the world now needs to protect itself from US interests and the government's outrageous actions. The government can no longer be considered a reliable friend nor partner to Australia. 

Wednesday Extra

It has been an interesting week in the state of Victoria, Australia. 

Politics was at the fore as the ruling Labor Party dumped its leader Jacinta Allen for a respected bloke. 

After quite a number terms in office, the former premier saw the writing on the wall, and as happens, handed over the poisoned chalice to Ms Allen. This is what the Labor Party does when it sees the end of its rule on the horizon, handing over power to a woman. It has history.

Former Premier Allen received such undeserved vitriol. 

The numbers of women in politics in Australia is good, but they are just not well treated by apparatchiks, especially by the Murdoch media, and judged by the public much more harshly than men are judged.

Gracious in defeat, Ms Allen's resignation speech contained something for women to note.

She also urged women not to be discouraged from entering politics.

"Please don't look at what I have experienced this week and think: 'stuff that, I don't want to be involved.' Look at the support I have experienced over my career and think: 'I can make a difference here too.'"  

My eyes deceive me

Some posts are fun to construct, and this is one of them.

I've known Ingrid/Gattina via her blog Nonna's Castle for what must be 15 plus years, maybe longer. Ingrid is 80+ and lives in a retirement home, a former castle in Waterloo, Belgium. Yes, that Waterloo of battle fame.

While her age has now restricted her adventures, she looks outwards to life, and has become somewhat of spokesperson to management for residents in her home. 

That almost sounds like an obituary, but she is alive and well and has been playing with AI, especially with old and newer photos. 

I hoped to get permission from Ingrid to use her photos to show what can be done, and she was quite happy with that, so here are some of her efforts. I am just imagining the commands she gave to fix and alter the photos. This is the original with her late husband Rick.

With their baby son.

Boring background?

 

Just whack in a back drop of the Rocky Mountains. When I saw this it made me rather afraid for the future, let alone family history.

Show my cat Rosie biting my nose.

Shorten my son's hair, and add a red shirt and a nice background.

Show my grandson smoking and drinking beer. Note the librarian dog going about its work.

Ingrid was wearing black pants and her cat Arthur was not sitting at her feet.

Son and grandson on holidays.

Put my son and grandson in diving wet suits.

This was funny, when she pointed out it was raining cats and dogs.

Me, me, me. Let me have a turn.

Raining cats and dogs made me think of the Weather Girls' song It's Raining Men. Nah. Too many boring older men, along with a number of Mary Poppins wannabees. 

Rain me some hot looking men. There, much better.

This photo of Ingrid and her bodyguards, her son and grandson, amused me. Her son and grandson are 2 metres tall, 6'6", and Ingrid is not tall, but I don't think this photo is quite right.

Alert but not alarmed

We were all very alert, and very prepared to be alarmed as we had been warned that at 2pm our national emergency warning system would be tested, with a siren blaring or blasting or ear splitting (the media were full on with their use of a thesaurus), out from our phones for ten seconds, along with a message to ignore the alert.

I was in Bay Street, Port Melbourne at 2pm with Phyllis and Kosov after a driving lesson for Kosov and a need for bahn mi for both of them. Kosov has a dry cough so they went into the supermarket to buy chicken meat to make a restorative chicken soup. I was sitting in the pleasant little park just metres away from the main street. As 2pm approached, I moved closer to the street to see how people would react to the siren.

Remember Big Ears and Noddy of the children's book fame? Noddy drove a car which when he sounded its horn, made a parp parp sound. Does that sounded like a horn blasting a warning. Parp parp.

That is how I'd described the alert. No one in the street seemed to react. An older woman wearing huge earmuffs tried to engage with a couple of young girls walking past, who acknowledged her but kept walking. I was a stationary target. She had a heavy accent, I guess Italian, as she told me told me her granddaughter said to her 'Nonna, don't go out as you will be scared when the siren on your phone goes off'. Nonna insisted she was going out. 'Nonna, take my ear muff headphones then', and she did wear them, and heard nothing. Had I have had my phone in my pocket, I probably would not have heard the 'parp parp' either. 

Nonna liked to talk. Her husband died eight years ago, her daughter of cancer two years ago. Her granddaughter is too choosy about men.  Her grandson was engaged but broke it off. 'He is so handsome, always looks neat and wears nice clothes, and is so funny. He is very kind to me, he works at a prison and has his own house, but he lives in another house with his friend.' Hmmm.

Where on earth are Phyllis and Kosov to save me.

The bastards eventually arrived and walked past me to stand about five metres away. I must have a word with them about what to do in such situations, where the default is to save me. I gave her a couple of pats on her puffer jacket enclosed upper arm and left her midstream talking.

Then they told me they has already engaged with her, as she complained about the toilets in the supermarket walkway being closed for two weeks. 

Did your phones sound an alert, I asked them? No Onnndrew. Mine is on silent, but I saw the message. (the alert comes through regardless of whether your phone is on silent). No Annndrew, I didn't hear anything. I think it probably did work for them but they didn't hear the parp parp.

It seems the alert worked for 94% of the population the phone towers and for those who it did not work for, perhaps a very old phone or a local tower was closed for maintenance.

ABC Radio uses an excellent alert sound when there is a fire or flood threat warning.

It was an alert, but hardly a sound to make you alarmed or even alert. Perhaps they should look at the sounds of older technology. 

                                                                                                             

Monday Mural

Sami and others participate in Monday Mural. 

Phyllis went to an optometrist in Clarendon Street, South Melbourne for an eye test. Eye tests are free for me, but he had to pay $100.

The way overseas students are constantly slugged financially by the Australian government is in my opinion, a disgrace. Yes, they should pay their way, but they are contributing far more than just paying their way.

As Phyllis and Kesav returned, they came across this mural and took photos for me. On the far left, above the monkey's head it says, "Happiness is a quiet revolution". 

Nice, but at times a revolution cannot be quiet. Good luck to young people of the Indian Cockroach Janta Party, with their protests against government corruption. The party and protests has already seen one government minister resign in disgrace.   

A Home Invasion

'Andrew, we have invited friends to play board games on Friday at 11.30. Is that ok?'

They had already invited them, so I had to say yes. I would have regardless. Right, I had planned one last visit before my annual Melbourne Zoo pass expires, and I will do that while games are played.

'Phyllis, are these people who will invade my home trustworthy? I don't want my silverware to be nicked or anyone rifling through my drawers." 

To get to the zoo, I would have once caught the direct 58 tram from home, or a tram to Melbourne Flinders Street, then a train. 

Now with the Metro train, is was much quicker to catch the train from the nearby Anzac Station to Parkville Station, then the 58 tram for the last leg. I've come to realise that while the Metro Train is very quick, as it is in a tunnel, it is terribly boring. If I can pull my eyes away from my phone, I usually like to look out the window at passing scenery. 

Honestly, Melbourne Zoo is boring as bat shit. Most of the animals hide away in the cold weather and those that are out, don't do very much. They don't do much when it is hot either.

I bought coffee and ate the sandwich I brought from home. If there were decent cakes, I would have bought one.

Once home after being out for four hours, there were remains of a huge amount of food being cooked, enough left over for my dinner and some more. The dishwasher was on, but in the sink and on the bench, there was another load to be washed. I am so pleased I pressed Phyllis to use the dishwasher. I can't imagine the water use if the dishes were washed under heated running water, as was his inclination.

An extremely complicated board game was underway on the coffee table, with four visitors. I retired to my west wing to relax and play with my tablet. 

I didn't want to interrupt their game after my rest, and so set up my tablet at my desk to watch the 6pm car crash commercial tv news. Soon after, two people left and the remaining pair retired to Phyllis' and Kosov's bedroom, handing my space at home back to me. My dinner of whatever with rice was served at 7pm, and then everyone left for a 'long walk'. 

The bad, my home was not my own for a period. The good, Phyllis and Kosov were building friendships and relationships. English was the lingua franca.

A zoo gorilla was quite entertaining. She had stolen her siter's hessian sack and kept pulling it over head. I timed my visit for a keeper talk, which was interesting enough.

It was both cool and sad to see the pygmy hippopotamus, as it swam around and around the pool following the same path. I really hope it can be transferred to the excellent Werribee Plains Open Zoo soon.

The thing is Melbourne Zoo needs exotic animals to attract visitors and when there were still elephants at the zoo, they had a rather good amount of land with a natural environment. Their current accommodation at Werribee Zoo is fantastic.

The zoo has at least one lion and a snow leopard in reasonable conditions, but I have seen lions pacing along the walls.

The Komodo dragon was not visible and a keeper did not show up on for the talk. 

Here a few photos from the day.

There wasn't a sentinel meerkat standing erect and watching for enemies, just this one busy burrowing.   

I think it is imaginatively called a giant tortoise. A very cool dude. 

 

Peeky boo lemur. Huddle up and stay warm.

Lemurs together would be called a troop, I guess. I think a good collective noun would be a liaison of lemur. 

You can not see me. I'm a gorilla in the mist....hessian sack.

I cover my ears to destress myself.