Fifty-five words

``The helicopter flew down to investigate. 'It was a woman' Ridenhour remembered, 'spread-eagled as if on display. She had an 11th Brigade patch between her legs – as if it were some type of display, some badge of honor. We just looked; it was obviously there so people would know the 11th Brigade had been there.'"

From Seymour Hersh's book about the My Lai massacre.

Calley - ringleader or scapegoat, depending on who you read - is a jeweller now, apparently.

Yummy

I am mad for del.icio.us at the moment.

My bit here.

Baked fresh

In the magical ovens of the typo generator.

It's not true

Things have not been the same since I learned that Harry Butler in the Wild was a set up.

R: ''Did you think he's just wandering about -- in broad daylight -- and he just finds this rare nocturnal spider, under the first rock he picks up?''

C: ''Yes.''

Code red

My head is going to explode.

I have a zit big enough to cause shifts in atmospheric pressure.

People who blog hurricanes and other freak weather patterns are likely to be on my doorstop any minute now.

Ahead of the erruption, may I suggest the first chairlift out?

Urban dingoes and night cries

Tonight was supposed to be about laziness and teev.
Instead it was about doing my tax. And laundry.

Don't be too overwhelmed with envy, will you now.

Tomorrow though, going to see urban dingoes at la boite.

Looking forward to finally seeing the huge Tracey Moffat billboard too.

Looking down the barrel of love's gun

From You Yes You

The real thing

When I lived at Elwood, I would catch the bus home from St Kilda.

The bus stop was outside a Thai takeaway. In a casement window, in the wall next to the takeaway's door, there was a tiny gallery.

Sometimes, there would just be scribbled bits of paper in it, or voodoo dolls, or Polaroids.

Or, for a couple of weeks, a stuffed cat, resplendent in opera mask and plumed head-dress.