olilolo blog

The Olympics have come and gone for another four years. And what an Olympics they were! There was a standard of competition unmatched for decades. And if, like me, you’re an enormous geek who will die a chillingly lonely death, you sat there watching, for example, the running events, and wondering if they could beat The Flash.

And that’s just ridiculous. I mean, no one can beat The Flash. He can run fast enough to break the time barrier. Pfft, get real, loser.

But if some insane genius with too much money and time (and lets face it, what IS Bill Gates doing with himself these days? I don’t buy that “charity” malarky for a second) wanted to put together some sort of crime fighting superteam, he could do worse than recruit from the ranks of the elite athletes who showed up to compete in Beijing. So let’s look at the standard roles of every good super-group, and see who could fill them.

Read more…

Norway has Knighted a penguin.

There’s nothing I can really add to that. I do wonder if Norwegian soldiers have to salute it as it waddles past, which might be in the running for most ridiculous visual ever.

So it seems my posts have been less forth coming than usual. Normally I would sit here late at night, cradling whatever evil brew I had stooped to buying, spitting my bitterness and contempt for my fellow co-worker and the world onto the web…

…but instead I have been cruising through the last few weeks. My days are spent watching the Olympics, reading, and generally participating in the world as little as possible.

Maybe it has something to do with the factI’m reading Harry Potter, and despite how poorly written it is as times, I find it hard to put it down. Or maybe it’s because I knocked up my wife.

Yes that’s right, you heard it here first. Mind blowing as it is, I’m reading Harry Potter… and I feel slightly dirty for it.

I’ve thought about reading the books for many years. ‘I’d get to them eventually’ I thought, but everytime I considered putting aside my reservations another movie would come out and everyone would start to rant on about how they are ‘the best books ever’ and how I ‘just had to read them’.

I hate that. I hate things that are just so bloody hyped up that people seem to swallow it’s ‘greatness’ like a slapper swallows cock. Back off dickhead! I’ll decide what I read, and if I do find a copy you haven’t covered in your jism, I’ll judge it for myself.

The Da Vinci Code is a perfect example of where the hype got out of control. A book about the Mona Lisa, the Catholic Church, and Jesus having it off with Mary Magdelene and planting his seed in her fertile field. Wow. Mind blowing. Now how about we go on about it like Dan Brown is some sort of messiah of literature. In fact why don’t we find Mr Brown and each take turns servicing his every sexual need, because he is obviously a man above all others. He’s a man to be worshipped. Maybe he is Jesus.

It wasn’t that good… The Da Vinci Code. It was okay, but not great.

And that is how I felt about Harry Potter. I refused to touch them lest I looked like I was caving in to the demands of the media-driven consumer-whores I share this world with.

It’s now time though. Time to confront this demon of mine and plunge myself head first into the great unknown world of J. K. Rowling.

I will keep you posted. If I don’t survive, tell me wife I love her… and to take out the compost.

So late last week, two guys from Georgia were out “hiking in the woods” (quite an obvious euphamism, really) when they “stumbled across the corpse of Bigfoot”. That bit isn’t a euphamism, it’s just a bunch of bullshit, but hey, lets run with it some more. The pair, Matthew Whitton and Rick Dyer, claimed they discovered the body of the beast lying in woodlandwhile on a hike, and dragged it back to their car. Later, they claim they were also followed by several bigfeet as they did this.

They decided to let the world know they finally had irrefutable proof that the legendary creature existed, so they went to the authorities immediately, surrendering the specimen for rigorous scientific testing. Ha ha, just kidding. They actually “put it in a freezer” and took several grainy shots of the monster.

That’s actually it, by the way. I know you might have thought I just posted a picture of some sausages, a rug and a gorilla mask in a box, but that is actually the “specimen” the pair claim to have found. Someone needs to tell the Henderson’s that Harry isn’t coming home.

Whitton and Dyer then sent samples of the hair to a DNA expert, and called a press conference. At the press conference were reportedly about ten actual journalists and about 50 of the pair’s friends, called in to act like journalists. Several of whom didn’t even bother to wear a suit, and Whitton and Dyer greeted more by name in front of the actual journalists, who then reported this because it was definitely more interesting than what was happening on stage.

Speaking of events on-stage, in an effort to put a more trustworthy face on things, the guy’s brought in a “bigfoot expert”, Tom Biscardi.

Again, I feel the need to point out that that really is him at the press conference on Friday, and not some random nutcase I found on Google Image Search by typing “bigfoot dickhead”. The guys also obviously missed the point of getting an “expert” in who isn’t already massively likely to agree with what they say to confirm their findings. Mr Biscardi’s been chasing Bigfoot for years. Once again, not a euphamism.

The gathered media was then presented with photographs of the quality you see there, along with an email from the scientist, who reported the DNA results were inconclusive. Well, actually he said two of the hairs provided were human, and one was from an opossum. Whitton, displaying truly amazing abilty to spin facts, claimed that that didn’t necessarily mean the results disproved their story, but merely that bigfoot had eaten an opossum before he died.

I mean, that’s tobacco-company-levels of spin right there. That man has missed his true calling.

Regardless, the less than impressed journos were then ushered out of the room, with an instruction to visit the website for more details. What website? Oh there’s a couple. There’s the site Dyer and Whitton run where they sell bigfoot merchandise and spots on their bigfoot safaris through the wilds of Georgia. There’s also Biscardi’s site, which ties into his radio show all about bigfoot. He also does tours and stuff.

Man, it’s almost like these guys are trying to drum up interest in their sites so peoplke will buy T-Shirts and go on a bigfoot tour with the guys who found the “real, dead Bigfoot” or something. But no. I’m sure scientific discovery is their main motivation.

At the risk of degrading this website into some sort of link dump to interesting news stories, have I got a news story for you!

It seems UK scientists have hooked up 300,000 cells from the brains of feotal rats, to a robot.

“Ha!”, you scoff. “What the hell will that achieve? Rat brains can’t interface with robots.”

“Really?” I sneer. Well it seems the cells are not only able to control the robot… they’re learning. They’ve learned how to control the speed of the robot, the direction, and use it’s sonar system to avoid collisions.

Not only that but they have a few of these little frankenrats, and they’re each developing their own personalities…

Seriously. Now think for a second about this. Effectively they have made cyborgs.

Now I’m no expert, but I’ve watched TV and mankind has two natural enemies: Intelligent robots, and zombies.

In fact I’ll go as far as to say that it won’t be long before we’re all running for our lives, desperately fighting off rat controlled super-machines armed with lasers and nuclear war heads. Fighting a guerilla style battle in the streets of our once grand cities. Hiding out in the sewers in a highly ironic turn of fate. All mankind’s achievements will be crushed under the mighty paw of rat kind.

We can only hope and pray the scientists developing cat-controlled zombies make a break through in time.

In any case, I think I’m going to start digging my shelter… just in case.

BBC story with video: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/7559150.stm

Today I found out about the Moro Islamic Liberation Front from news articles around the place.

Lt. Gen. Cardozo M. Luna, vice chief of staff of the AFP, said seven barangays were cleared of MILF bandits out of 15 barangays reportedly occupied since last Saturday.

Some 300 MILF rebels attacked village of Tipo-Tipo Poblacion and torched some houses.

“Unless the MILF renegades will comply to leave peacefully, we shall continue with our clearing operations. Amid our intensified operations, we will not compromise the lives of the civilians residing in the affected areas,” Yano told a news conference in Camp Aguinaldo.

Oh dear. I mean, that’s serious (and kind of horrific) news, and I honestly don’t mean to make light of the situation, but jeez guys. There had to be a better acronym.

Cloned Dog Owner Manacled Mormon for Sex

That … that’s just … I…

Well, that’s pretty much the best headline you’ll ever read. You can all stop now, copy editors! One of you created the Perfect Headline. You’re done.

I haven’t even read the story. I don’t care. It could be several paragraphs describing the journo’s favourite cheese, I wouldn’t mind.

Wolfmother have broken up.

Australian award winning rock band Wolfmother has broken up, citing long-standing personal and musical differences.

Excuse me for a second, I just need to go do a little dance.

…

There, now that’s done. I am, however, still dancing in my head. I will be for some time.

It’s just that, as some of you may know, I really, really hate Wolfmother. I do not like them. I dislike them intensely. I am not a fan. It is safe to say that, even if you conducted a thorough and exhaustive search of my wardrobe, you may find several disturbing things, but you will not find a Wolfmother T-shirt.

I’ve hated them since basically the first time I heard their fuzzy, limp “rock” assaulting my stereo, and I have cultivated that hate ever since. It wasn’t easy. When they were handed every award the Australian music industry could give them (including several I’m convinced were invented specifically so they could be given to Wolfmother) I was angry. When they won a Grammy, I was livid. When several cockholes compared them to the Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple AND The Beatles, I assaulted several small children. But it’s hard to maintain that white-hot rage over several months of endless repetition of their songs to the point where even I was forced to admit that MAYBE Joker and the Thief was kind of catchy.

But maintain I did. And now comes my reward. The only dark note that sounds is the announcement that despite being basically reduced to a solo novelty act, Andrew Stockdale is determined to keep his little personality cult going, and release another album.

I always thought Stockdale was an insufferable rod-holster, and now I have the proof. How do I know? Easy- the other two band members from Wolfmother whose names I have never bothered to learn are going to form their own band together. This is an old industry practice that enabled you to basically fire someone you don’t like by “breaking up the band” and then reforming with everyone except the dick you don’t like. It’s an old trick, and a good one, and I’m glad Stockdale is the butt of it here.

Not to mention, consider what these two would have gained just by gritting their teeth and suffering through whatever private hell Stockdale created for them. They’re an internationally renowned, multi-platinum selling, award winning band with only one album under their belt. They knocked it out of the park on their first go at bat, success-wise. They have millions of dollars and success and acceptance and, lets face it, they are probably thigh-deep in fresh groupies to boot. And they have their entire career ahead of them. It takes industrial-grade douchebaggery to up stumps and walk away from that, and yet that’s effectively what these guys did.

So with Wolfmother gone and the Rogue Traders long since split, all I need now is for Jet to finally stop fucking living and I can have my Holy Trinity of Annoyance obliterated forever. I should start a rumour one of them said the other was fat.

(If this picture looks weird/doesn’t load properly, click on it to view it at full size)

There have been some truly great films over the years. Films which move you, change the way you think about the world, or even just provide a fantastic ride you couldn’t get anywhere else. Citizen Kane. The Shawshank Redemption. Star Wars. Casablanca.

And I, like all people who pretend to be sophisticated, like to talk about my “favourite” films and list those sorts of examples, revelling in my excellent taste in films and sneering at people who profess to actually enjoy the big-budget brainless blockbusters which are flooding cinemas.  

But deep down, I know it’s a sham. As much as I rail against it, I can’t escape the fact that when all is said and done, all I really want from a film is an enormously muscled man killing large numbers of people in amusing ways. 

It should therefore come as no surprise that my favourite movie of all time is…

Read more…