Later, 'gators.

OK, so I can add a gun-crazed, testerone driven member of the US League of Overlords to the list of nagging bitches who just won't let me relax. Like, sigh... What to write about..., I could write about how the second coming of JC is coming along very nicely, thank you very much - five rounds, three wins and two seconds and a thirty four point lead over all around Nice Guy Greg Hancock but seeing as that information is readily available elsewhere on this page, I won't.
I know, whacky Australian animals. In a country which has a giant hopping mouse and a big chook on it's coat of arms, I suppose that it was only natural to find a fossil site full of carnivorous kangaroos, tree-climbing crocodiles and three metre tall, 400kg 'demon ducks of doom.
No, no good either, Tim Blair might have a swag of fanboys, but I don't like link-and-critique blogging. I could write about the trials and tribulations of installing mp3 players into Holden Rodeo utes. You know how these days that all you need to do to replace the head unit on a stereo is to slide the appropriate implements down each side of the head unit, depressing the spring loading retainers so that the head unit slides out? Not on my annoying piece of shit ute. Nup, it's still screwed in. You can pop the bezel off to access the mounting screws; doesn't do you much good, but. The head unit is larger than the hole in the dash, so that you have to remove the instrument surround panel. To remove the instrument surround panel, first you have to detach the lower dash panel. Around twenty self tapping screws. Into plastic. I'm not going to have a squeaky dash now, no way. Self-tappers into plastic is totally not a cheap, bodgy way of assembling a vee hickle. So, I got the head unit out. You know how stereos these days have standardised wiring so that you can swap them straight over? Nuh uh. Not only are the plugs different, there are an unequal amount of wires on them, with no logical correlation between the two. You know how you can buy cheap aftermarket manuals for your car so that you can have a look at a wiring diagram? Nope. Nobody prints them for my particular ute. I can get earlier models, later models or the same model year, but not my engine. Holden wanted 280 drops of my blood for a genuine item. Marque Books wanted $220 for the same one. I got a genuine manual on CD over ebay for $11.90 delivered. There are 411 pages in the manual related to the electrical system. By comparing wiring diagrams I was able to figure out that the vehicle wiring harness had three redundant wires. Way to keep costs down, dickheads. Got the head unit and extra speakers installed and couldn't set the clock on the bloody thing. As a last resort I read the destructions. You don't set the clock - it sets itself by Radio Data Signal apparently, whatever that may be. I say apparently because the bastard hasn't set itself yet. Of course, this is a very marginal area for any kind of radio reception, so maybe it will magically come good the next time I go to an urban area. Good excuse for a day off anyway, "Won't be in tomorrow, Lord and Master, I'm setting the clock in my ute."

I could write about that, but I won't, because it's only one step up from cat-blogging. Instead I will tell you that I'm going for a ride on my mo'sickle. I'm leaving over the weekend, or maybe Monday and I'll be gone about a month.

Cya.

Shine on you crazy diamond

So Syd Barrett died. So fucking what? One album and a few singles does not a stellar career make. For fuck's sake all you middle aged ex- dope fiends, get over it- he wasn't that impressive. In particular all you pseudo music nerds who think that because you know Syd turned up unannounced and uninvited at the session where they were laying down the vocals for 'Shine on you crazy diamond' you are therefore some kind of Guru - fuck right off.