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Preview: Oh, Crikey!

Oh, Crikey!

If you're reading this you've obviously got too much time on your hands

Updated: 2014-10-16T01:33:49.499+13:00


joy and sorrow


Waitangi DayIt's that time of the year again, our annual national whinge-fest. Skimming the local web, I see numerous bloggers kvetching about race relations. Delightful! What was once traditionally the domain of Maori has now become mainstream. Without even realising it, everyone's practicing Maori culture. Celebrate bi-culturalism! So let me join the grumpy crowd and add my unhappy 2 cents

Top Chef returns


Not much to say, really. So, when in doubt, blog about television. I think I've found my couch-potato soul-mate. TV critic Jane Bowron picks Top Chef, Project Runway and Tim Gunn's Guide to Style as the best reality shows. Ditto all that! Ahh, a gal after my own channel-surfing heart! If she had included America's Next Top Model on her list, I'd demand DNA tests to prove we're not twins separated



I'm bicultural and straddle two worlds. As a result, I'm bilingual. It's true! I can speak lefty. Want proof? "Smash capitalism!"Not bad, eh? Still not convinced? Ok then, how about this: "Down with the Amerikkkan industrial-military complex."Pretty fluent, huh? Impressed? Well how 'bout this then:"Dismantle the dominant patriarchal heteronormative hegemony."Oh, I'm just showing off now. My

looking good


My new favourite TV program: Tim Gunn's Guide to Style I'll come out of the closet and confess that I love clothes makeover shows, and I never miss a Friday night date with (the very gay) Tim Gunn. Don't worry, there's no physical attraction [unlike, say, beautiful Jack on LOST - but that's a whole 'nother (homoerotic) story] but Tim's such a charming and charismatic TV presence. He could recite

Hate in '08


There's a meme circulating, Eight in '08, where bloggers list their 8 wishes or aspirations for the year 2008. No one tagged me, so naturally I'm quite aggrieved. Thus I'm going to spoil everyone's happy mood, pervert the meme's good intention, and spread misery and ill-will where I can. That'll teach ya! I'm gonna do a hate-meme.Know what I hate? Poms! They're bad enough in their homeland where

my mission


Holy hip-hop!Yo! Wassup m'niggas? Just chillin' with the homies, gotta lock it down. Check it out! Are you down with that? Doncha be dissin' ma homeboys - I pop a cap in yo' ass. Just keepin' it real, dog. Know what I'm sayin'?Oh, excuse my lapse into rap vernacular, I'm practising my 'gangsta' lingo as part of a new reach-out program for disaffected black urban youth. Inspired by Brian Tamaki,

bleating bloggers


Is there anything more self-referential than the blogosphere? The ultimate meta-narrative: blogs talking about blogs, a commentary on commentary. Does mentioning this phenomenon make it commentary on the commentary on the commentary? And if I expound on that last sentence, does it then become commentary on commentary on the commentary on the commentary? Argghh! Stop it! My head's spinning. Like



I'm feeling a touch of self-pity tonight, and not without justification. Perusing the online speeches of Tariana Turia in The Maori Party, I was struck by the unpalatable truth about New Zealand: Maoris are oppressed. [Don't roll your eyes!] For myself, this unenviable condition is compounded. Allow me to explain. It's no secret that Maoris are reviled; we'd never win a congeniality contest.

stars in my eyes


I feel so lovey-dovey this evening pondering the nature of love. What is love? It's that heady, intoxicating, floating feeling reserved for that one special other. My objet d'amour is Michelle Rodriguez whom I probably spend more time obsessing over than is psychologically healthy. I'd be lying if I said the feeling was mutual. She is, after all, a famous star who doesn't even know I exist. But

Same crap, Different year


It's my party and I'll cry if I want to I turn 41 today but don't even think about wishing me "Happy Birthday." I've too much to pout about being destitute with a grievously ill wife in hospital and six hungry kids to feed. You can see why I'm in no mood for cheer.Anyway, the astrologically aware will note I'm a capricorn, which is the dullest, most boring, and depressing of signs. Our so-called

Single Male Maori seeking...


The love that dare not speak its nameInternet dating is thriving in New Zealand. Excellent news for us single boys! I've tried to meet women online, even by openly flirting here on my blog. All to no avail; the majority of comments I receive are from nutcases who sign in as "Anonymous" and leave abusive comments. Wow, there's a heap of cyber-folks who don't like me. But since I installed a

Random Movie Review


MARINEAn absolute fireball of a movie with not a whiff of politics but plenty of fast-paced, heart-pounding hoopla. Dispensing with cliched cinematic devices (like story line, character development, social realism, etc) the narrative is simple: our hero must rescue his wife who's been kidnapped by ruthless, murderous bandits (stop me if you've already heard this plot) Mass destruction ensues. The



I finally joined the 21st Century - or at least the 20th Century. Yes, I bought me a cell-phone. And what an ordeal over a simple purchase! The woman in the phone shop wanted to know my name, my address... and all sorts of stuff. It was rather alarming. When you've been questioned by the cops as many times as I have, you become wary about divulging personal details to complete strangers.

Happy New Year... (sorta)


Happy New Year, everybody! .... and get stuffed! Yup, you read that right. "Why the unnecessary hostility on such a festive occasion?" you ask. Well, I had a disturbing realisation: I'm a complete prick who makes enemies in all places, at all times. It's true. Every relationship I've ever had has wound up a disaster; every friendship ended in acrimony; every romance resulted in tears (and

legal lunacy


"Objection!" ...and other phrases I learned watching American law showsWhat do I need to do to get sued around here? In this litigous age of internet libel, you'd think my many posts - laden with insults, abuse & slander - would provoke at least one thin-skinned, vindictive, rich dude(tte) to haul me up for defamation. Yet my efforts have come to nought; not a single writ nor affidavit graces my



Sex and violenceI'm a Bourne again fan. But first let me say: I hate Matt Damon. As one of the entertainment industry's most virulent critics of the Iraq war & the Bush administration, I loathe him on principle. Anyhow, nephew recently went on his O.E. and left tons of his stuff in storage at my house, including his DVDs. I'm overjoyed as I've boycotted Tinseltown since the war began, yet have



Wanna be on top?Elated that season 8 of America's Next Top Model has started. Have always adored Tyra Banks and remember her modeling career first taking off. Even then she had her characteristic 'fierce' (the show's buzz-word) look. Mind you, any black woman with green/blue eyes will always stand out. I reckon her best pics evoke the spirit of Manet's 'scandalous' nudes, both "Olympia" with her

square eyes


I'm bored, so I've decided to have a personal crisis, hoping to add colour and spice to an otherwise grey, drab existence (besides, in dreary ol' New Zealand, we have to make our own fun.) Sure, some may feel it's the height of tastelessness to wallow in neurotic self-absorption online with all the world as one's witness. But if folks weren't meant to engage in undignified public displays of

the ultimate bun fight


I love Top Chef. Along with 'Models' and 'Runway', it's the best reality show on TV. But "blah", "meh", and "pfft", is my summary of tonight's two finalists, Ilan & Marcel. Both of them are equally repellent dorks. It's as if France and Germany went to war; who do you root for? Does anyone care who wins? It's a shame they both can't lose.The episode itself was jam-packed with excitement and

a weighty cause


Desperately Seeking SympathyHelp me, lefties! This is a true story. While walking along Lambton Quay, a woman holding a bunch of Weight Watchers magazines held one out and asked: "Excuse me, would you like a free copy, Sir?" Well that's what she said, but what I heard was: "Hey you fat b*stard, if you'd try shutting your KFC-stuffing pie-hole for a change, you wouldn't need this magazine."



It's International Hate-Speech Day. Well, not really, but I thought I might inaugurate one as a service to humanity. An opportunity to rage and fling invective without reservation, to benefit all mankind. So I need your help to spread the word, and unleash one of those frenetic bursts of online activity that snowballs uncontrollably, resulting in a massive internet phenomenon worldwide. So... are



Cue the emo music, don the black garments, and break out the hankies. My darling Alison got booted off Project Runway. What can I say but :-o and :-( and whatever the heck the emoticon is for "white-knuckled angst and hair-tugging trauma." This is the saddest I've ever been about a reality show elimination since... umm... well, yesterday. Fate is unkind. My life is a Shakespearean tragedy, or a

Top Chaff?


Tears & heartbreak, anguish & gloom! My two favourite cooks were booted off in tonight's double-whammy elimination on Top Chef. [sob!] Misery is my only friend. Until now, I've always felt life to be fair, but my sweetie-pie, Elia, and succulent Sam are no more; my faith in cosmic justice is both shaken and stirred. Then to pour vinaigrette in to the wound, Ilan, whose personality (and skin) is

Strictly for the fans (i.e. me)


Pretty enough to bring tears to your eyesRemember this face? If not, it's because you probably don't watch enough reality TV - or you're just plain forgetful. This most memorable visage belongs to Jade Coleman from season 6 of America's Next Top Model. My most favourite TV contestant ever, I was gutted when she didn't win. A crying shame! My pain was slightly offset while net-surfing recently

I love to watch...


Project RunwayOf all the reality shows, this one showcases real talent, imo. Dressmaking is architecture; construction involving engineering expertise, knowledge of materials and their interface when acted upon by gravity, movement, physical forces and elements. A vision is conceived, planned, sketched, and ultimately manifests in 3-D. Tailors are both artisans and artists. Every week I'm awed