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How do you get a ’90s Japanese craze onto a bus?

Pokémon.

pokemon red and blue

The Game Boy games that started the franchise; based on the concept of fighting random animals, beating them down, and then cramming them inside tiny balls; in a never ending hoarder-quest to trap and keep every, single species. Where was the mothers’ groups against THIS?

Through the illogical leaps my brain sometimes makes, I realised I hadn’t played Pokemon in 15 years and I should do that. Right now.

With next to no effort I found I could play it illegally on my phone, rather than how I used to, illegally on my computer. Let me say, 17 year old Doyle did not know how good he had it. I quickly found myself delving deep within the world, ensorcelled by its 8-bit charm.

So once again proving olilolo.com is at the forefront of pop-culture, here is our review of the 1996 classic: “Pokemon Red”.

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Urges: My deep, dark (brown) secret

Urges: My deep, dark (brown) secret

Do you ever get an urge just randomly pop into your mind? An urge to do something strange or unexpected that you can’t entirely explain?

Do you ever see someone at the top of a flight of stairs, a friend, a loved one, and just get that urge to push them. You don’t do it, but you still think it. It takes self-control to quieten that voice and not give in. Most people are able to repress their inner urges, and most urges are but fleeting.

Sometimes they slip trough of course. It’s the sort of thing that leads to uncoordinated dads one day walking past and suddenly deciding to try riding their kid’s skateboard, resulting in broken bones and a fridge won on Australia’s Funniest Home Videos.

Or the sort of thing that makes a bloke decide to introduce himself to strangers while putting on a Scottish accent, which they then have to try and keep up all night. Of course you’ll meet a Scotsman and you’ll both know you’re full of shit long before you finish you first ‘aye’, but there’s no way you’re stopping now. So bring the tequila… uhh whiskey!

Crazed Russian president Putin, when he’s not invading other countries, has even been witnessed kissing a child’s stomach due to suddenly indulging his bizarre inner urges.

But even Putin’s crazed inner voice is more normal than what I must repress. What lurks within me.

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Paleo Medicine

Paleo Medicine

Following on from the hit fad of the Paleo diet, comes the latest in ill-advised crazes: Paleo medicine! Got a headache? Forget paracetamol or silly old aspirin! Come in for a good old fashioned head drilling. Trepanation is the oldest form of surgery, and what’s good for the cavemen is good for the goose. We use only the finest blades carved from elk bone to peel back your skin and remove a chunk of your skull over the affected area....

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The Mansfield Bugle

the mansfield bugle 66 fixed

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Hedge Your Bets

Hedge Your Bets

I quite like living in Australia. I think we’re quite lucky in a number of respects. It’s not, and we’re not, perfect; there certainly seems to be a fair few politicians on this island with us; but compared to some countries we’re doing alright overall.

However, there’s one thing I think we’ve really fallen behind on. One thing where the rest of the world, especially Europe, is really kicking our arse in… hedges.

I love a good hedge. Well crafted. Thick. Just begging to be caressed. It really fits beautifully with my love of heritage style, symmetry and nature.

I also love how the perfectly straight walls and stark right angles ripple in the breeze like you’re looking at one of those ugly Eastern-European Communist-era concrete buildings while on acid.

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Are telemarketers making us racist?

Are telemarketers making us racist?

It’s a Friday night. You’ve just jumped out of the shower, slipped into your tracky dacks and are settling in to watch *local football match* when there’s a ring.

The phone.

Always at the worst moment, the phone.

Should you ignore it? It’s probably just someone selling something. What if something’s wrong? It’ll be nothing. What if it’s something?

Fine.

“Hello?,” you ask a little frustrated but also worried.

“Hello sir, how are you this evening? That’s great. Have you got a moment? Good. Have you got children or loved ones? Are they prepared? Prepared for a life without you? With Acme life insurance…”

You throw the phone down in frustration and curse the bastard, his family and everyone he’s ever met.

Increasingly, it’s likely “the bastard” was based somewhere in the Indian sub-continent; where knowledge of English and low wages combine to become the perfect place to outsource your customer service or sales department.

We’ve all heard the story: “Mate, the company only reaped $4.2 billion last year. If I send the whole department to Bangladesh I can run the place for the same cost as I’d have to pay one greedy westerner. After the share price goes up, I’ll take half the savings as a bonus, blow it on cocaine and both me and shareholders will be rapt.”

What I’ve been wondering for some time though is, is the whole process accidentally making us racist?

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