Stuart MacGill: can’t bat, can’t bowl, can’t host

Jeebus H. Cat, the man is atrocious! Whenever SBS crosses back to the studio during lunch I am overwhelmed with feelings of embarrassment for him; that’s if I can stop cringing at the telly long enough. It’s like watching a nervous schoolkid, spooked eyes staring straight down the barrel of the camera, wee their pants from fear live on air. Every night for ten nights.

I know that it’s wise to head your sports broadcasts with someone who knows the game and who can talk from experience, but surely they could’ve found someone better than MacGill. Even Damien Martyn, with his complete lack of charisma or presence would’ve made a better host — at least he’s watchable. But between MacGill and that goose Greg Matthews I’ve been tempted a number of times to throw the flat screen off the balcony.

Stuart MacGill, you’re on the list.

UPDATE: From MacGill’s Wikipedia page:

MacGill is noted as an intellectual type, having once read 17 books on a tour of Pakistan

I suppose reading one book on a cricket tour is enough to get yourself smeared as an intellectual.

UPDATE II: Further down the Wikipedia page the plot thickens:

He has a fondness for wine and books, once reading 24 novels during a tour of Pakistan.

Both “facts” are sourced from a Cricinfo bio, which states:

The son and grandson of Western Australian state players, he socialised with friends who weren’t cricketers in his playing days, and was often portrayed as a thinker, a misfit, the odd man out. It was something he played down, although he once read 24 novels on a tour of Pakistan.

Socialised with non-cricketers! The shame.

Now, I know what you’re all thinking … but no, I don’t mean politically. I might be a pernicious Leftist, but I’m not that pernicious — he’ll need to be at least two years old before I read him The Communist Manifesto, and I’ll wait until he’s mastered Twinkle Twinkle Little Star before bothering with The Internationale.

Instead, I’ve started him on an area second only in importance to politics — sport. Lesson no.1 was football codes, and I’m delighted to say he passed with flying colours:

Download audio file (indoctrination.mp3)

(Transcript here if you can’t understand babytalk)

Next week, I think I’ll introduce him to Club Wah’s superb Ashes for the Ignorant series.

Look a little closer.

Isn’t that Bristol Palin? What was she doing in New Zealand seven years ago?

(Thanks to reader Possum.)

The responses I got in return were surprising, ranging from “Are you insane?” to “Weirdo” to “I don’t think that’s what Rudd had in mind”.

So, what is it that I am going to do with my filthy lucre, dear GrodsReaders? Well, I’ve decided to go…

SKYDIVING!!!!1!!

Big freakin’ deal, huh?

Thing is, it’s entirely justified: skydiving is bloody expensive and I’ve been wanting to do it for years, but could never justify the money (or, more likely, never had enough money). Besides, Kevin didn’t tell me HOW I should spend it, did he? Or if he did, I must’ve missed it — possibly deliberately.

I figure I’ll be in Byron Bay in July on what seems to be becoming an annual pilgrimage there (yeah, lefty greenie hippy country… makes sense, don’t it?) and I might as well jump out of an aeroplane while I’m at it.

Is that insane? Weird? Wrong?

Has anyone got their money yet, out of curiousity? And would you spend a portion of it on skydiving?

What with the hoo-ha about the State election, a friend reminded me of the existence of this abomination. Since I saw it about 5000 times in 1985, it’s only taken one viewing to ensure that I can’t rinse the sounds or images from my mind. I thought I’d share the pain with GrodsReaders.

NB

1. The heady blend of alcohol and retro-styled homeroticism.

2. Thommo’s mullet.

3. When they say that there’s been an 80s fashion revival, they’re lying. That is 80s fashion, and you don’t see hipsters getting around in anything that comes even close.

If I can’t get it out of my head soon, I’m calling Dr Nitschke.

Still, it wasn’t a total loss. We were beaten by a team named Dirka Dirka, which can only mean they’re Islamist terrorists — which, as we all know, means Teh Left still wins.

Peace be upon them, Mohammed jihad.

Respect our authoriteh!

Is it possible that this uniform could finally demand a little bit of respect?

You read that right, GrodsReaders: GroupThinkFC + finals. This is the same team that has spent three seasons getting predictably and embarrassingly creamed on a weekly basis, but getting gradually better in the process. Better enough, it seems, to clock up a couple of genuinely good wins in the past few weeks and make it into the top four. Of course, given the form of the top three compared to GTFC we’d be slaughtered in the finals, but it would just be nice to play.

Take that, Emos and nerds!

So tonight’s the last game of the regular season and Roger Rogenous (Ant’s brother) has calculated that if we lose by less than 20 goals we’re finals-bound. Mind you, if anyone can lose by 20 goals it’s the people’s football team. Cross your fingers for us and I’ll post a match report tomorrow morning.

Apparently it was written at the beginning of the 20th century by one Hway Ung, a Chinese scholar in Melbourne:

I went … to see the game they call Foo-pah … It is played in winter heaven, for it requires top endurance and activity … Men on one side try to kick goose-egg pattern ball between two poles that represent a gate or entrance. They run like hares, charge each other like bulls, knock each other down rushing in pursuit of the ball to send it through the enemy’s pole… 

I defy anyone to do better than that.

UPDATE: Oh, dear. Just out of curiosity, I plugged a line from the above quote into Google and came up with this:

The following excerpts were written in 1899 by a Chinese visitor, describing his experience in America (Hwuy-yung, A Chinaman’s Opinion of Us and of His Own Country, London: Chatto and Windus, 1927).  He was writing for Chinese readers who were eager to know what Americans were really like.

Authors Paula Hunt and Glenn “the Bolt” Manton: research FAIL.

UPDATE II: Do click on that link, though. There’s some very funny stuff, including this earth-shattering observation about Americans:

Their arms and ears do not reach to the ground, as we depict them.

Be afraid. Very afraid.

Police have advised the public to point and laugh if they see these men.

Mis dedos! Mis dedos! Por el amor de Dios, ¿DÓNDE ESTÁN MIS DEDOS!!1!

Oh, está bien … aquí están. 

In 2008 we saw Slapfight II.

But in 2009 we’re still waiting for Slapfight III. Come on, Croatian and Serbian youths of Melbourne! Don’t let us down.

If you are planning to attend this event, please note: do not, under any circumstances, carry this image in the back of your mind while Mr Braithwaite is on stage:

Enjoy the show.

(May or may not be a trophy I “won” for participation in primary school soccer)

After the past few weeks of humiliation we had reached crisis point, where a loss to soccer’s favourite emos would result in GTFC members self-harming. But we won, we won by playing rooly good soccer, and we won for the first time as a complete team with nobody missing. Six glorious goals to two.

Suck shit, emos.

Luckily the game wasn’t without its funny moments thanks to the tall ginger emo who spends most of the game in goal laughing maniacally at things that aren’t funny. At one point he was on the field and marking Jeremy when he shrieked, “Stop looking at my balls! Why are you looking at my balls?” I swear that Jeremy only glanced at ginger’s balls. It was hardly a stare.

Then when the freak was marking me he said, “You look just like my friend Scott. I liiiiike my friend Scott.” Exactly how do you respond to that?

Anyway, despite the late finish we retired to bar for a quick victory beer (or cola for one member — guesses in comments.) Cheers to the mighty, mighty GroupThinkFC!

Bartender! Make mine a cordial.

The sweet, sweet taste of third place

1) Champion goalkeeper Ant Rogenous isn’t playing due to “other commitments”, whatever that means; and

2) I’m playing, and I’ve missed every GTFC victory due to “other commitments” or injury, causing my teammates to wonder aloud if my presence at matches is a bad omen.

Place yer bets in comments and wish us luck. Match report later.

UPDATE: A glorious GroupThinkFC victory: 8-7. Suck shit, Emos.

On Saturday at about 5pm — Derby Day — I was riding my bike through the CBD. I was heckled by two carloads of drunken bogans heading into town after the races, and I watched one group of drunk idiots in suits kick shit out of a taxi that dared pick up another group of drunk idiots in suits. Later that evening I was walking along an inner city street that was packed with racegoers getting even drunker in bars, when a slobbering drunkard wearing a tie with horses on it, and carrying a bourbon-and-Coke, tried to grab one of my female companion’s tits.

I know that this sort of stuff goes on basically every night of the week in cities around Australia, but the difference is that the Spring Carnival actively promotes and encourages people to don their best clothes and get spasticated, all in the name of the “sport of kings”. When our laneways turn into “warzones” after 3am because drunk kids roll out of nightclubs and into fights it’s bad, but when adults in suits roll out of Flemington and into the CBD having injected large wads of cash into the racing industry it’s okay.

Patrick Smith thinks so too.

HERE is the awful truth facing racing. It is a party and not a sport, a piss-up and not a business.

Growth is not based on racing’s innate beauty but the capacity to get 110,000 people obnoxiously drunk and utterly distracted.

[...]

So crowds are sought to fill the stands and the lawns at Flemington. To dress up and fall down, to sink beers and throw punches, to fall about in a stupor and not fall in love at all with the sport.

As the field left the mounting yard for the Derby, racing’s new audience could not care less. In front of the mounting yard a group of drunks begin to fight. From toe-to-toe it becomes a chase this way and that. It threatens to spread like a wildfire. Security are slow to arrive, police not at all. No one in the crowd has either the inclination or the strength to stop the stupidity.

[...]

The spring carnival makes money but not converts. The baboons in the crowd would not know a horse from a hearse. The majesty of thoroughbred racing is lost in the bubble of champagne and the dribbling of beer. Racing spends its money not to educate but inebriate and, as such, the most exhilarating sport in the world is not just forgotten but not even seen so as to be appreciated.

As crowds for the spring carnival grow, racing has not found a new audience but merely a new revenue stream. Racing, the entrancing sport of horses, is in danger of drinking itself to death.

Purple Cobras? WTF?

Each speaker has a profile so you can get a brief run-down of why you would want them at your function!!!1! (”Richard Stubbs is well known as one of Australia’s finest stand-up comedians”; “Dave Stewart is one of the most respected and trusted people in the music industry today”).

Some also carry signed testimonials from those who have utilised their emcee-ing, joke-telling and motivating skillz.

“I would not hesitate in recommending Grubby and Dee Dee for any occasion and I will be hiring their services again in future. Cheryl and Robert Dipierdomenico (Former AFL star).”

“Excellent. Andrew was a fantastic host. A consummate professional. He was very well received by the crowd. Sydney Adventist Hospital.”

Needless to say, I’m not persuaded, but at least they’re reasonably specific comments.

Some are a little more loose. You remember former Australian Test Cricket coach John Buchanan. Great coach, fun guy, but how will he sound over the pavlova? Let’s find out.

“The guest speaker was the best we have had.”

A State Government Agency

Question: is this the most unconvincing endorsement of anything, ever?

So we were offered two options: go home or play a replacement team for shits and giggles. We chose shits and giggles, even though there were a lot more shits than there were giggles because the team was from a couple of divisions above ours and they wiped the floor with us 10-0. They were a smart arse bunch of pricks who were head-over-heels in love with themselves. Here are the names from the back of their jerseys in reverse order of fucktardness:

• JOHNNY
• TTFU
• BOT DIDDLE
• CUMB DUNT
• SO… GOOD
• 69 HURRICANE

Plus I — how you say? — did a hammy after only four minutes on the pitch. That makes two injuries for the season and officially makes me the most pathetic and injury-prone member of the team.

But whatever. A victory is a victory and we’ll take them any way they come — that’s the GroupThinkFC way. Bring on season three.

It’s a bottom-of-the-table battle for ultimate mong status

Only three points separate Target Practice and GroupthinkFC on the table and the winner tonight will walk away with four points. So in a nutshell: a loss tonight will force all members of GroupThinkFC to commit seppuku which, besides from creating a bloody awful mess on court four of the sports centre, will leave Bron, Bridgit and John in charge of GrodsCorp, and put Anonymous Lefty into permanent hibernation.

Actually, when you think about it that may not be such a bad thing.

Wankers.

UPDATE (6pm): Whoops! Apparently there was the grand final of something called the Australasian Footballers’ League. Hearty congratulations to the mighty Broadmeadows Roosters!

Think Geelong vs. Hawthorn and then unthink it. It’ll be more like Geelong vs. the Brunswick under-8s.

a) Turnbull is thoroughly rebuked by the party and suffers terminal ego cancer, and GrodsCorp continues to have Nelson as blog fodder for the foreseeable future;
b) Costello is voted in by a reasonable majority but refuses to accept leadership unless he receives 100% support; or
c) Wilson Tuckey gets up.

Whatever happens it’s going to be an interesting day. Bring it on!

UPDATE: The Age has confirmed that Julie Bishop, Tony Abbott and Joe Hockey are all out of the running for leader.

Joe Hockey, Tony Abbott and deputy Liberal leader Julie Bishop have all been pegged as potential leadership aspirants.

* I didn’t even get the chance to grab an opposition player’s balls because I was in too much pain after my balls got slammed by an opposition player’s hip.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that GroupThinkFC were at the same standard as Weezers

Tonight GroupThink is playing Weezers and, based on the carefully selected statistic above, we look like a genuine chance. Thing is, we’ve played them twice before this season and lost both times (3-13 and 3-11). So now that you’re armed with all the facts it’s tippin’ time. Leave your scoreline prediction in comments and the winner will win… something.

UPDATE: Bridgit has noted in comments that one very relevant piece of information is missing from the form guide above: whether or not I’m playing. Remember that I’ve missed all three of GTFC’s wins.

I am playing in this match. Although, my toe is almost totally healed and my death flu is gone.

But what should have been a thoroughly enjoyable milestone victory over Target Practice turned out to be a drag for several reasons:

1. They were Emos.
2. They were violent.
3. There was a girl on the team, who got away with being the roughest of all of them because the referee clearly didn’t feel right about penalising a girl — and we didn’t feel right about decking her.
4. They were utterly humourless about their abilities (sic).
5. They pretty much conceded defeat in the first few minutes by deciding to defend for the entire match — an astonishing strategy, given how many goals we’ve had scored against us.
6. During the match, Testiclegate erupted, with one of their players accusing a GroupThinker of “grabbing his nuts”. Bullshit — we only ever do that to people in the bar afterwards, and almost always after buying them a house riesling.

Still, a win’s a win. Huzzah.

Toaf — who, to the eternal shame of every other GrodsCommenter*, was the only person to tip a GroupThinkFC victory — takes out the betting prize: a season pass with front-row tickets to our remaining matches, valued at $0.00.

But since he’s currently living in Nairobi, we’ll be auctioning it on GrodsBay … as soon as The Editor designs and gets it working.

* With the exception of EC, who declined to predict a result but — as always — declared her undying support for TehPeople’sFootballClub.

Trust me, there was more than one teacher

I was also arrested by security guards at a wildlife park for attempting to vandalise the following signs.

Death to all grocer’s

Not. A. Plural.

Then I got home with an incompletely-healed dislocated toe which, together with the flu, forced me to withdraw from last night’s almost-certain-to-win GroupThinkFC match. I’ll let Ant fill you in later. I’m too depressed.

Neither of us has won a match this season (Target Practice’s “win” being the result of a now-defunct team’s forfeit).

GroupThinkFC has conceded two more goals than Target Practice but has also scored two more, which puts the aggregate slightly in our favour when the ratio of goals conceded to goals scored is taken into account.

TehPeople’sFootballClub is coming off a gallant 5-9 loss to the top-of-the-table Kectus last week, while Target Practice also found the back of the net five times in a slightly wider losing margin (5-11) to third-place Hennessy FC.

Both sides have clearly been salivating over this match for weeks — perhaps more profusely than all the other teams salivate over the prospect of playing either of us.

Let there be no doubt: if this were a prizefight, Don King himself would pull out all the stops to promote it.*

So I’m taking bets on the result in comments: correct result and closest to the score will win a prize so awesome in its awesomeness that they’ll be shocked into a seemingly underwhelmed stupor.

NB: An injury cloud hangs over The Editor, who dislocated his big toe during last week’s match. His absence on Friday night would be certain to have an impact on the result, but I’ll leave it up to you to decide what that impact might be.**

More Rice-fuelled stupidity:

After queueing hours for an autograph, unsuspecting admirers were told the Olympic medallists [Stephanie Rice and Eamon Sullivan, appearing at a Melbourne shopping centre] would sign only Davenport-branded clothing. Some fans swore and left.

After 2 1/2 hours in the Myer basement queue, St Albans woman Jade Gunn, 21, burst into tears when Rice told her: “We only do Davenport.”

Ms Gunn spent about $300 to fly to Sydney on Tuesday to get the pair’s signatures on a T-shirt, but missed them at the airport… Ms Gunn said she had skipped work-for-the-dole job training to be there yesterday and she might lose benefits.

Memo to Ms Gunn: it occurred to me that you might intend forging a career online, flogging off oodles of Rice-Sullivan memorabilia: signed pics, old cossies, plaster-casts of Steph’s man-pouch, etc. But if that’s the case you’re going about it entirely the wrong way. For one thing, there’s no need to obtain genuine signatures, as most of the crap on e-buy is homemade. A permanent sharpie and a faded old pair of Speedos is all that’s required. Just make sure you spell their names right. Not too many little love-hearts though, like those on your fingers. Avoid the semi-colons too.

Alternatively, you could just get a real job, like the rest of us. Just a thought.

I’d make this one a GrodsCaptionComp, but I’m fairly sure I’ve nailed it in the headline.

PICTURE 1:

PICTURE 2:

* Cutting welfare in response to school truancy
* Olympic wrap: Great Britain’s gloating and buying gold medals
* Fairfax fucks its staff
* Ask A Barman: pegging
* TardWatch

** Because everyone’s desperately downloading pegging DIY kits, use only the “Play in popup” link or the “Download” link. **

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* Faking the Olympics
* Funding the Olympics
* Broadcasting the Olympics
* Backhanding Catherine Deveny with assumptions
* TardWatch: laugh-until-you-cry-and-get-a-hernia edition

** Because Jeremy refuses to pay £6.50 to download this podcast, use only the “Play in popup” link or the “Download” link. **

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Whoa, man-pouch alert! I think the AOC should icksnay with the drug-testing and assign someone to shove a hand down Steph’s CKs at first opportunity (and I bet John Surname is early in the queue too).

Glorious Ant Rogenous brings glory to this glorious team strip

So I’m in Ant Rogenous’ car yesterday on the way to our latest GroupThinkFC defeat, when I ask him about the emergency replacement he’d organised for Billybob (who is an emergency replacement for Jeremy.)

Editor: What’s this guy’s name then?

Rogenous: Trevor*

Editor: Is he any good?

Rogenous: He’s a bit like you — good cardiovascular, can run. He’s fit but…

Editor: Shit?

Rogenous: Um…

Editor: It’s okay. They’re my words, not yours.

Rogenous: Well then, yes.

And then at the end of the game the referee came up to Ant — who is GTFC’s goalkeeper — and said, “Good work, mate. If you’d had more support from your team there you might’ve won.”

Bastard.

But in the sweetest of ironies I scored a goal last night while Rogenous scored a yellow card for calling this complete cockhead on the other team with spray-on shorts a “cockhead”. Karma.

* May not be genuine name

The uniform worn with dignity in defeat

Before I headed off for tonight’s GroupthinkFC match I mentioned to a friend that I had to pay a fee to play. “You mean,” she asked while thinking about our dismal record, “that you’ve got to pay to lose?”

Good point, well made.

But if Jeremy asks make sure you tell him that we’ve won every match while he’s been away. It’ll burn him up inside and ruin his holiday. Sweeeet.

The (dis)honourable member for Macarthur has branded Our Kate an “L plate minister” and claims that her hosting a Commonwealth sports ministers’ meeting in Beijing is “just embarrassing.” He goes on to accuse Ellis and Labor of being bereft of policy ideas, while putting forward absolutely none of his own, before suggesting that Kate will be taking a whiteboard to the meeting in the place of policies.

Here is Pat Farmer’s party leader (sic) formulating infinitely more important policy than sport last week.

In the party room… some backbenchers were angry that no written policy was presented to the meeting — which then proceeded to draft one. Mr Hunt and Ms Bishop wrote on a whiteboard as Dr Nelson dictated.

But let’s go back to Pat’s claims that Kate Ellis is an “L plate minister” and an embarrassment. I simply have two points to make.

1) Pat Farmer has only been in Parliament for three years longer than Kate Ellis. He has held no higher position than Parliamentary Secretary.

2) Here is Pat’s official MySpace profile picture.

What. A. Wanker.

‘Nuff said.

(From ‘The Age’ Online)

Um, no thanks.

UPDATE: Is that hypercolour t-shirt in the front row being worn by a dude or a chick?

On Monday (Eddie) McGuire lectured Collingwood players about their responsibilities and highlighted how much sacrifice club officials, including himself, had made.

It is believed Mr McGuire indicated being president had cost him “four or five” Gold logies.

My valve!

* Costello’s cocktease
* Ramos-Horta loves Vanstone for evah
* Come on, Sam Newman
* Myki: fuck you
* Beheading is the new black
* TardWatch (formerly known as Funniest Things On The Intertubes)

** Because Jeremy is desperately downloading this episode from Heathrow Airport Seaport, use only the “Play in popup” link or the “Download” link. **

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* Club bans porky pies
* Eddie chucks pies on sauce
* Collingwood drink drive debacle — out for season

…to the newspapers:

* The Herald Sun
* The Age
* The Australian

Just get a load of those puns. Answers over the fold.

‘Eddie chucks pies on sauce’: The Australian

‘Club bans porky pies’: The Age

‘Collingwood drink drive debacle — out for season’: Herald Sun

Who woulda thunk that the most sensible headline would belong to the Hun, while The Age and The Australian run such turgid turgidity? Wonders never cease.

Anyway, Robert controlled most of the grain dissemination in his own country so he decided to branch out on a global scale. Before long he was peddling grain all around the world: in England and the U.S. especially. Robert owned so many foreign grain stores that he even had to change his citizenship! But no problem, since Robert’s only loyalty was to his grain-dependent public. Soon, Robert owned 100+ grain outlets and was, like, worth BILLIONS! Robert was so cooool. He celebrated by getting himself a new wife.

But there was one place where Robert’s entrepeneurial skillz had never managed to penetrate: a massive Asian land ruled by evil overlords who were very, very rich but controlled all the grain themselves. Robert decided that this Asian land would be his next goal. If Robert could spread his grain to the people in this land, the evil overlords would be thwarted and there would be democracy and justice for all. But to get a foothold in the Asian land, Robert first had to negotiate with the overlords themselves. Oh brave Robert!

After much negotiating the evil overlords did indeed let Robert sell his grain in the Asian land. But soon, a small problem emerged. One of Robert’s grain stores was run by bad, bad people called “leftists” who were selling bad grain that infected the people’s minds and made the overlords look bad! This grain made people have wild visions and ideas. “Enough!” cried the overlords, and threatened to close down Robert’s operations in the Asian land. Robert came up with a compromise: he would remove the store selling the bad grain, and the people would again be calmed. Peace again reigned: the overlords were happy, the people were compliant and Robert was making squillions.

Years later, things were going so swimmingly in the Asian land that they were given the opportunity to hold a grand festival of sportz. People from all over the world came to participate, to watch and observe. Some of them were called “journalists” and they found, once inside the Asian land, that the evil overlords were not letting them have access to all types of grain. They complained about this - and rightly so. One “journalist” was named Adrian Blot and he complained in a very loud voice indeed. Adrian called those who allowed the Asian land to host these games and restrict grain-flow ”a pack of weasels”, saying that they were “wallowing in [the Asian land's] cash” and “sponsoring tyrants”. Adrian was quite right about all this, which was not all that common for him; he felt good that evening as he relaxed on his leather sofa, sipping Victory Gin and listening to Puccini.

But do you know what the strange thing is? Adrian-of-the-strong-condemnation actually worked for Robert Maddock … and he had absent-mindedly forgotten to mention Robert’s very similar connections with the Asian land and its masters! So Adrian had actually criticised the sportz peoples for letting the evil Asian overlords regulate and restrict the availability of grain, when his own boss helped them do the same thing years back! Oh silly, silly Adrian. In time he will spot his error and explain that Robert actually belongs to the “pack of weasels” he so nobly slams. I’m sure he will. 

THE END

Thursday – Newman sees footage of Tasmanian tourism minister Paula Wriedt, finds her attractive and expresses a desire to “come on her”. He is pulled into line and castigated by James Brayshaw, who Newman tells to “shut up”. He writes off the incident as a misinterpretation.

Friday – Nine defends Newman for the umpteenth time. The producer of The Footy Show  suggests he’s done “nothing wrong”, and that Newman is “horrified” his comments might have been taken in a sexual context. Despite apparently having nothing to apologise for, Newman ‘phones Wriedt to apologise.

Saturday – Female MPs predictably call for Newman’s removal from the show. Wriedt’s father admits that she was upset by the incident.

Monday - Wriedt attempts to take her own life and is rushed to hospital for emergency treatment.

Now, nobody in their right mind would suggest that ‘Sam’ Newman is directly responsible for Wriedt’s suicide attempt. Reports suggest that Wriedt had many more pressing issues in her life than a single smutty remark: a second marriage breakdown, separation from her two children, the burden of being a state minister, a failed bid for the deputy leadership and declining voter support. But it cannot have helped. The crass comment drew unwanted media attention to Wriedt at what was obviously a difficult time in her personal and professional life. Newman was not aware of Wriedt’s personal situation but that’s precisely why more respectful and circumspect commentary or ‘comedy’ is necessary.

This could be the last straw for Nine, which has ridden with Newman over many blips and freefalls but has probably had about enough. To use a term from one of ‘Sam’s own personal obsessions, he may find himself ejaculated from television forever.

1.Alex Fevola, who back in December 2006 said “her marriage to football star Brendan was over”, has a preening, Wynettesque essay in today’s Herald Sun, so hideously erratic and self-obsessed that wouldn’t sound out of place if you read it on some 14-year-old’s Myspace. According to Alex, Brendan has done very little wrong (pissing on a wall was “insignificant”) and, like, he’s a good footballer and, like, a good dad so get off his case, okaaaay? No mention in Alex’s whine about Brendan jumping a bar in Ireland to belt some guy who refused to serve him. And nothing about his fly-in-fly-out fuckathons with similarly-smitten bimbo Lara Bingle (Alex seems to have developed amnesia since then).

2. Sam Newman, only a few weeks back from a Nine-imposed hiatus from The Footy Show for sexist denigration of a female journalist, opens his heart to tell viewers of his desire to ejaculate on a member of the Tasmanian state cabinet. Worse, he then insults everyone’s intelligence by trying to explain it away as something else, while Nine says that Newman has “done nothing wrong”. Newman’s mate Neil Mitchell will undoubtedly be on-air tomorrow defending him (Mitchell describes Newman as a “cutting-edge comedian”, further proof that the 3AW ego-for-hire couldn’t tell his arse from his elbow, whereas Newman seems to have mistaken his knob for his cerebrum.)

3. Fisherman-with-microphone Rex Hunt is up in arms when the media comes calling in relation to a road rage incident Hunt was allegedly involved in. “I couldn’t care less what people think of me” says Hunt, while refusing to deny that he was involved in the clash where a cyclist received a possible broken finger. Back in 2006 it was revealed that Rex couldn’t care less what his wife thought either, when his ‘cash-for-gash’ exploits (one of Newman’s quaint terms) were exposed in the media. Rex was less camera-shy in 2005 when he was punched by some teenagers in Byron Bay and wanted to share his pain, annoyance and social commentary with the world. Yibbedy-yibbedah.

4. Former Richmond player Andrew Krakouer cops 16 months in the slammer after a vicious assault outside a nightclub, where he kicked his victim in the head repeatedly. If Andrew wants advice on prison life he could call his dad Jim, who served nine years for attempting to smuggle amphetamines across the Nullabor back in the 1990s. When Krakouer Snr. was paroled in 2004, he was feted by the football media as a man trying to rebuild his life and become a good father and role-model to his son. Don’t think it worked somehow.

There are exceptions to every rule and there certainly are to this one. But throw others like Wayne Carey, Gary Ablett, Jeff Farmer, Ben Cousins, Daniel Kerr, Alan Didak, Dean Brogan, David Dench et al into the mix and it becomes apparent that while AFL footballers past and present make up 0.04% of the population, they seem to generate a much greater proportion of crime, scandal and social disruption. The odd thing is that nobody seems to be acknowledging the fact or asking why.

The timing couldn’t have been better, either: the People’s Football Club™ begins its new campaign for glory tomorrow night.

Virgin season, fresh start — and with shiny new uniforms, only John Surname an imbecile would bet against us taking out the championship.

You can keep track of our results here.

And remember: show your support and solidarity by keeping the jeering to an absolute minimum.

Hi, I’m Joey Chestnut. I’m here to help.

US defending champion Joey Chestnut won the annual Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest overnight by downing 64 hot dogs in a competition that stretched into a first-ever overtime.

Mr Chestnut, of San Jose, California, defeated six-time champion Takeru Kobayashi of Japan in the annual event held at New York’s Coney Island beach.

The two were tied at 59 hot dogs a piece at the end of the regulation 10 minutes, forcing a sudden death overtime to determine which man could eat five more hot dogs in the shortest time.

(source)

Competitive eating is serious stuff; anyone who doubts me should rent out Taxidermia. The training regime practiced by Mr Chestnut is different to that depicted in the film but is still pretty extreme.

Chestnut trains by fasting and by stretching his stomach with milk and water. Three days before winning a chicken-eating contest in Boston, in November 2005, Chestnut drank gallons of water in under one minute and ate buffalo wings to get his stomach accustomed to them. As of July 4, 2006, his competition weight was 220 pounds (100 kg).

Hot dogs are the mainstay of competitive eating in the USA but the sheer range of foods that JoChe (as he’s know to his close friends) has scoffed to win titles is impressive, and pretty bloody funny (and a study in the shitness of American food.) Check out some of these:

* Grilled cheese sandwiches
* Pork ribs
* Deep fried asparagus
* Pizza Hut special items
* Pulled pork (not in any way related to interference with farm animals before their slaughter for food)
* Horseshoe sandwiches

What are horseshoe sandwiches? I’m glad you asked.

Heart attack on a plate

The horseshoe sandwich originated in Springfield, Illinois. This open-faced sandwich begins with thick-sliced toasted sourdough bread, and a couple of hamburger patties or ham. The meat is topped with french fries and smothered with a “secret” cheese sauce. With its many variations, it is a local favorite not often found outside Central Illinois.

Many people would laugh at Joey Chestnut’s achievements and mock his sport, but here at GrodsCorp we’d like to salute Joey Chestnut: a true sporting hero.

Joey Chestnut fights his gag reflex while smoking a sausage

 (source)

Needs more pastel

It is absurd to now have people hauled off to reeducation for sayings things to which some powerful others take exception. Not just absurd, either, but deeply concerning.

Andy conveniently leaves out the simple fact that Newman doesn’t have to attend counselling — he can tell his bosses at Channel Nine to go fuck themselves if he so desires — but he must attend counselling if he wants to continue appearing on The Footy Show. Most other TV personalities would have been escorted from the studio for lesser offences than Newman’s, and certainly wouldn’t be given the dozens of chances over a decade that Newman has had. If anything, he should be incredibly thankful for the chance of continued employment.

But Bolta doesn’t get any of that because he’s too busy being infuriated by how terribly shameful it is for Newman to have to attend counselling.

This “counselling” of wrong-thinkers as if they were diseased is not just a grave insult but a kind of authoritarianism best left buried with the KGB’s psychiatric hospitals for political dissidents.

Evil, evil PC-brigade leftists. But just when you thought it couldn’t get any more farcical, Andy tries to ramp up the guilts by referring to an unrelated injury of Newman’s that requires the use of crutches, and makes this bold statement.

Pictures like this, of Newman hobbling to his deprogramming, should shame us all:

No it shouldn’t.

This was undoubtedly one of them:

John Surname (Saturday 17 May 2008, 10:59 am)
I have just checked some odds, and the chances of Jesus turning out to be Barry Manilow are higher than GroupThink FC winning a game…

Jeremy (Sunday 18 May 2008, 5:03 pm)
…How about we say five to one on us winning a game this year (not including forfeits)? More than generous, I’d have thought, given your Jesus/Manilow reference.

John Surname (Sunday 18 May 2008, 5:31 pm)
No I don’t think you’ll win a game. I put the odds at 100-1. I will make a $1 bet with you.

Jeremy (Sunday 18 May 2008, 5:38 pm)
You’re on. If we don’t win a game this year, I’ll hand over a dollar. If we do win a game this year, you’ll somehow front up $100*. Deal?

*Which, fellow members of GroupThink F.C., will of course go to the victory celebrations.

John Surname (Sunday 18 May 2008, 5:45 pm)
I could really use that dollar.

John will be horrified to learn that GroupThink F.C. not only won tonight, but won ten to four. We even managed that without The Editor helping us, which makes the achievement even more incredible.

Short of actually paying up, how should John make it up to the team he so cynically doubted? Your ideas welcome below.

Because tonight we finally put to rest all this “GroupThink F.C. is an embarrassment to GrodsCorp” nonsense. No longer are we the joke team of the blogosphere. So long as The People’s Football Club plays in the lowest division available and has a ring-in replacing either Scott or me, we can conceivably win.

Oh yeah, it feels good.

My brother, ever the helpful soul, kindly hung it up for him.

You, sir, have been pwned.

McBec: This sports guy (Warwick Hadfield) shits me to tears with his smarmy little jokes and stupid puns and stuff.

The Editor: He’s not that bad. Although, I do love it when Fran or Steve interrupt him to respond to something he says and you can hear the anger and annoyance in his voice at being cut off and having to find his place in the script again.

McBec: He he. Yeah, that rocks.

In a personal blow I repeated this injury in last night’s match but on the right ankle this time, which is lucky since I’ve only just regained full mobility in the left ankle. Rather pissed off to say the least. McBec’s starting to make those “I’m not sure you should be playing” noises and I’m not sure I can blame her. At least I was able to justifiably take today off work and sleep in until 11am. Cloud, silver lining and all that.

That message: take it easy, guys. There’s no need to risk painful injuries. If you play too hard you could twist an ankle. You could be involved in some kind of horrible collision. If you’re standing with your back to the goal and an opponent belts the ball at you, for god sake duck out of the way. Is one goal saved really worth the potential of testicular suffering? No, it isn’t. Not this week. Maybe next week, when your captain returns, but not now.

Now is a time for practising new moves, new strategies – seeing what works, what doesn’t. If you find something that looks promising, that seems to be working, file that information away for future reference – and go and try something different. Let’s concentrate this week on exploring strategies that have never worked in the past and may never work in the future. Let’s make absolutely certain that they’re a bad idea before we abandon them completely.

Also, Ant will probably be giving you useful directions from the goals, because he can see what’s going on. Whilst listening to him is usually a good idea, this week let’s just see what happens if you don’t. This way you’ll be able to have confidence in the future that following Ant’s suggestions is a good idea – and you’ll know that because you tried the alternative, and lost abysmally. See? Then we’ll know.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD don’t let our first victory be the first game I’m forced to miss. Okay? Guys?

To the goal shooter with the blonde hair and the knockout chest pass. Maybe we can say hello at the vending machine next match?

– The Editor, GrodsCorp

Ant and Jeremy send a Here’s Looking At You shout-out to the centre on the same team.

To the tall brunette at the centre of our attention. We’d love you to be the centre of our lives.

– Ant and Jeremy, The Intertubes

Sorry, what’s that? You want to know GroupthinkFC’s score? Unfortunately I’m not at liberty to discuss that.

You see, the person at the sports centre who is in charge of grading made a monumental error when placing us in division three. Despite the awesome presence of our captain first-among-equals, Jeremy Sear, and the daunting confidence of Ant Rogenous and myself, this person at the sports centre graded us well beyond our actual ability. After our fourth humiliating defeat in a row Jeremy approached this person at the sports centre and firmly suggested that we should drop a few divisions — a suggestion that the person at the sports centre took on board after checking our results and breaking into hysterical laughter.

So last night the glorious GroupthinkFC ran onto the field as division twelve’s newest team and brought honour to the people by narrowly losing 5-4. Our five game plan seeks to ensure that by round ten we are consistent winners and that our prowess with the soccer ball has communicated our message of socialism for the people far and wide.

Stay tuned.

* Teh gays
* Cab driver and teacher strikes
* Austrian hostages in basements
* SBS hidden cameras
* Ronaldo’s man-whore problem
* Bill Heffernan vs. Justice Kirby in the GrodsThink naked cagefight

** Because Ant Rogenous is using all the bandwidth to download instructional Fleshlight videos use only the “Play in popup” link or the “Download” link. **

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As far as I can tell war and sport have only three things in common: they involve two sides wearing different uniforms and led by stupid but overpaid men; there’s usually a winner and a loser; and obsessed males buy books about both of them. If you watched any sports coverage on ANZAC Day you’d think the two were exactly the same. The broadcast of today’s AFL game started at 12 noon but the game itself doesn’t begin until 2.40pm. The preceding 160 minutes is 10 per cent football and 90 per cent thinly drawn analogies of war and sport, combat and games, hamstrings and minefields, sportsmen and warriors. Stories of AFL/VFL players who served in war because footy players and soldiers are, like, great heroes.

Let’s get a few things straight:

Sport is NOT war. Apart from nonsensical risky sports like high-speed motor racing, hardly anyone dies playing sport.

Running thoughtlessly into a pack of thick-necked footballers is not the same as running at a machine-gun nest.

In sport you might do a knee or rupture your Achilles tendon; in war you might have your head shot off.

Though it’s sometimes used otherwise, sport is apolitical; war is a continuation of politics by other means.

Footballers and soldiers are not the same thing, goddamit. Commemorate our war veterans and celebrate our sporting heroes – but don’t try to equate the latter with the former.

And a final question for the AFL: if the football community has always loved our returned soldiers, respected their effort in wartime and applauded players who served their country in war, etc. then why did the VFL competition continue through both world wars? Surely it should have been suspended as a mark of respect and to allow those brave footballing gladiators to serve Australia in war, as was done with the FA Cup…

GroupThink FC losing yet another game

It’s clear by now that GroupThink FC are the suckiest bunch of sucks who ever sucked. I’ve seen teams suck before, but Jesus…

8-3

19-2

18-0

It’s come to the point that they are not only embarrassing themselves, but embarrassing us by association, so I am setting up a petition to persuade GroupThink FC to stop playing indoor soccer, and take up a sport that they are more qualified to play. Like egg and spoon racing.

Please leave your signature below.

You see, we normally record GrodsThink on Tuesday nights but had moved this week’s recording to tonight because I’m off to Cairns after work tomorrow. This arvo at 3pm Ant got in touch and said he had a headache or the consumption or something, Jeremy had previously expressed doubt at his ability to show up on time, and I was flat out at work and also feeling a bit flat and poorly. So we decided (between the three of us because J. Surname was uncontactable) that we’d kill this week’s episode and return refreshed next week. When I finally got Surname on the phone to tell him not to bother coming along he said not to worry because he didn’t even realise it was on.

This is the level of professionalism we’re talking about here, people.

Anyway, we do apologise to those listeners out there who enjoy the sound of smug leftists sitting around loving the sound of their own voices, but rest assured we’ll be back next week.

ps/- Our states of mind have nothing — absolutely nothing — to do with the fact that GroupthinkFC lost 18-0 yesterday morning.

* Kevin Rudd’s world tour of the world
* Plain English
* The republic
* Climate change alarmism
* Incest
* Keith Windschuttle vs. Archie Roach in the GrodsThink naked cage fight

** Because downloads of Kevin Rudd’s salute to the US Prez on YouTube have caused congestion in teh intertubes use only the “Play in popup” link or the “Download” link. **

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At 4:30pm I left home to head out into the wilds of Melbourne’s eastern suburbs for GroupThinkFC’s third match. I was aiming to get to Jeremy’s place a couple of hours early for a hardcore session of Guitar Hero before the soccer game at 7:40pm. But due to the terrible storms in Victoria yesterday afternoon the public transport system was in chaos. So instead of arriving at Jeremy’s at 5:45pm I arrived at the soccer match four minutes before kickoff and three hours after leaving home having walked through Camberwell in the rain with thousands of other stranded rail commuters, waiting for the 109 tram in the rain with thousands of other stranded rail commuters, and begging Ant to go far out of his way to come and pick me up.

Then with six minutes elapsed in first half of the game I rolled my ankle and had to leave the field with an icepack. The crunching and popping sound, along with the pain and instant swelling indicated that it was one of the nastier sprained ankles I’d ever suffered.

Then I had to sit on the sidelines and watch GroupThinkFC get annihilated 13-3.

Then I had to cancel my holiday that I was leaving on this morning since three days of hiking in the Grampians is not so much fun when I can barely hobble from the lounge to the dunny. I was really looking forward to this holiday.

So don’t mess with me, world. I’m not a happy camper right now.

That’s a sexy foot, right there

Rest assured that if I’m ever famous and/or in trouble, the Herald Sun would rush up to interview said distant cousin, as they did with Kevin Carey, father of Wayne. Big Kev’s got an opinion on everything, including Wayne the footballer:

“He was the best. He’s still the best, but he’s just an idiot.”

…the causes of Wayne’s problems:

“It’s the piss and his dick”

…Wayne’s girlfriend:

“She’s . . . bad news”

…the criminal offence that landed Big Kev himself in prison, for:

“Belting up some c—”

…and his ex-wife, who alleged that their relationship was violent:

“She was a f—ing liar. She will go out and say I’m a wife-basher”.

Classy journalism, digging deep to get to the bottom of this story of global interest.

Now, at the risk of sounding like an apologist — but hey, some of my best friends are apologists — I’d just like to point out that we’re being prevented from playing at full strength by one significant factor: we still haven’t worked out how to play soccer.

Rest assured, though — once we’ve stopped picking up the ball and I’ve developed a better goal-defending strategy than this, the championship is more or less in the bag.

* Australia 2020 summit
* Wealth distribution
* The War On Drinking
* Beijing Olympics
* Andrew Bolt vs. Robert Manne in the naked GrodsThink cagefight to the death

** Because there’s still a blockage in the (inter)tubes use only the “Play in popup” link or the “Download” link. **

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Along with Craig and Goobermetrics we enjoyed sitting in front of the unofficial Victory coaching team who shared their drunken wisdom about the poor management choices of official Victory coach Ernie Merrick with all those sitting in the vicinity. One of their biggest targets was Victory striker Danny Allsopp, who they creatively called Danny Allflop. Ant and I nearly sprayed our beer over the people in front of us when one of the drunken bogans angrily cried, “jump up, Allflop! Get up there! You’re taller than everyone else on the field put together!”

You can thank a leftist teacher for that, I suppose.

We have three tickets up for grabs for the low, low price of $25. Don’t miss your chance to join the Australian blogosphere’s two most uninteligible non-bachelors for what promises to be a tolerable time at the very least.

Kickoff is at 7.30pm, but we’ll be meeting earlier to grab a beer and some decent seats.

Express your interest in the comments, and I’ll contact you by email.

* Okay, they’re known as the Chunnam Dragons. See, you didn’t know who they were either.

UPDATE: Too late — I have to head off now. Anyone who’s still interested will have to contact me on my mobile: 0411 GET BNT. Cheers. *sob*

“I’ve got three months to train and I’ll train like never before.”

In a GrodsCorp exclusive, we can reveal that he ain’t joking.

* Kardboard Kevin
* MX
* Bike riding
* Tennis grunting
* Immature international cricketers
* World Cup 2018
* Melbourne F1 Grand Prix
* The Oscars
* Much, much more

** For some reason Episode 4 seems to play when you click “play now” instead of Episode 5. I’m looking into this error — probably something to do with the cache. For now, click on “play in popup” to make sure you hear the latest episode **

 GrodsCast RSS feed

Cricket writer Gideon Haigh

Wicked Witch of the West

]]> http://www.grods.com/post/2010/feed/ 10 http://www.grods.com/post/2002/ http://www.grods.com/post/2002/#comments Thu, 21 Feb 2008 08:54:50 +0000 Bridgit Gread http://www.grods.com/post/2002/ The Indian Premier League (IPL) is a new six-week cricket competition scheduled for April. Not sure of the details but there’s eight teams, all based in Indian cities but containing a mix of foreign and local players. Each team is owned by a corporation or consortium which has purchased a franchise; the eight franchises total in excess of $US720 million. A ten-year deal to broadcast the IPL has cost two media outlet an astonishing $US1.026 billion. Players are ’auctioned’ and purchased by the team franchises for extraordinary amounts, e.g. Mahendra Singh Dhoni $US1.5 million, Andrew Symonds, $US1.35 million, Sachin Tendulkar $US1.12 million.

Meanwhile, the World Food Programme reports:

Nearly 50 percent of the world’s hungry live in India, a low-income, food-deficit country. Around 35 percent of India’s population – 350 million – are considered food-insecure, consuming less than 80 percent of minimum energy requirements. Nutritional and health indicators are extremely low. Nearly nine out of 10 pregnant women aged between 15 and 49 years suffer from malnutrition and anaemia. Anaemia in pregnant women causes 20 percent of infant mortality. More than half of the children under five are moderately or severely malnourished, or suffer from stunting. 

At least all those anaemic, stunted and malnourished Indians will be able to watch some good cricket as they wither away.

AFL Chief Executive Andrew Demetriou

The Dunlop Volley Hand-Fart Man

GROUPTHINK!: Wah also has an awesome separated at birth post.

When this came out.

Don’t bother with that Gatorade stuff; quench your cricket thirst with…

…a fleshlight.

But then I tuned into the Casey Dellacqua vs. Jelena Jankovic match last night to check out this Australian fairytale that commercial television and tabloid newspapers like the Hun and The Age were crapping on about. Before the match the autocue monkeys and commentators were gushing and dribbling about Our Casey and her fairytale run through the Open before throwing to ex-player Todd Woodbridge who met the players as they were walking onto the court. He asked them a few harmless questions each like “How was your preparation?” and “Do you feel ready?” But his final statement to Our Casey was along the lines of “Thanks, Casey. Go out there and have fun.” His salutation to Jankovic was something like “Good luck. Get out there and enjoy it.”

What a patronising little prick.

Tennis is one of the few sports that women manage to attract almost equal recognition and respect for their efforts that men enjoy, yet idiots like Todd Woodbridge continue to say things like that. Firstly, Dellacqua and Jankovic are not going out onto the court to have fun; they’re going out there to win. And even if they were going out there to have fun they don’t need Woodbridge’s bloody permission to do it. I bet Ant Rogenous’ bank account that Todd Woodbridge would never tell Roger Feder to “go out there and have fun.” Because, you see, the men are warriors and the chicks are hit-and-gigglers.

Slapfight I: remembered fondly

Exactly one year ago Melbourne witnessed Slapfight I at the Australian Open. This year at Slapfight II: The Sequel the slapfighters have turned it up a little and employed the feared ‘kicking’ and ‘flagpole weapon’ techniques.

Crowd trouble marred the Australian Open again – exactly one year after Croatian and Serbian fans kicked each other and used flag poles as weapons outside Melbourne Park in an ugly start to the 2007 tournament.

Police needed pepper spray to control rowdy fans watching the match between Chile’s 2007 Open runner-up Fernando Gonzales and Greek player Konstantinos Economidis in Margaret Court Arena.

About two dozen Greek, Cypriot and Serbian fans were involved, according to an AFP photographer at the scene, with early reports of police ejecting four spectators.

Next year at Slapfight III there might even be punching; head butts at Slapfight IV the year after.

A Qantas flight attendant who looked after Cousins on the flight … said Cousins was given a copy of the sports pages of one of the Sydney newspapers during the flight.

Cousins, riding in business class alone and wearing his trademark snakeskin boots, jeans and loose, white V-neck T-shirt, apparently had a good flight. “He slept for a lot of it,” the flight attendant said.

The crew also enjoyed having Cousins onboard for the 14-hour flight. Qantas gave him one of the best seats on the plane, 11B, the flight attendant said. “My female colleagues particularly really loved having him on the flight,” the flight attendant said. “They thought he was a hottie.”

This is absolutely appalling journalism. There was no mention of several facts of pivotal importance, and several key questions remain unanswered:

* What did Cousins select from the in-flight menu?
* Did he drink lattes or flat whites? (Of particular interest to some bloggers)
* What did he watch/play with on his in-seat LCD screen?
* Did he pay attention during the pre-flight safety demonstration or did he look aimlessly out the window?
* Did he puke in one of those paper bags?
* Was the plane a Boeing 747, a 777 or an Airbus A340?
* What was the pilot’s name and did he welcome passengers with a witty remark?
* Was Lisa Robertson onboard and, if so, did Cousins spend any protracted lengths of time in the lavatory?

Plumridge is so desperate for media coverage he has just performed one of the most bizarre acts of media tarting I have ever seen.

Trying to cash in on the euphoria of the Cats huge win, Plumridge has just announced his support for a giant football monument in Geelong to immortalise the win.

“Everyone is so excited that Geelong is on the map. We talk a lot about boosting tourism and if Geelong had something like the big football, families would travel to see it.”

Time for a GrodsPoll then.

Vote early, vote often.

…the batsman having reached a double century is displaying both defensive and offensive tactics, the equal of those that have got him to the double century, the gap between bat and pad is no wider and his cover drives are just as immaculate.

Here is John Howard playing cricket.

Go on… Somebody out there admit that they do too.

Mr Merlino reckons that the total attendance over the course of the event was 219,000, indicating a FINA world record. “We set ourselves the target of beating the record set in Barcelona in 2003 and we achieved that,” he said. However, that figure includes — wait for it — athletes, coaches, media and volunteers. What a joke.

The real attendance total (paying spectators, that is) was a paltry 162,000. In comparison, last week’s eight-game AFL round had a total attendance of 364,544 (364,848 if you count players and coaches.)

It’s time the Bracks government got over its ridiculous addiction to major events of dubious value and reallocated the millions of dollars in donations it gives them to areas of actual importance. Let’s start with education.

In unrelated news… This morning regular Age columnist John Roskam, of the right-wing Institute of Public Affairs, wrote an excellent column questioning the Victorian government’s policy of unquestioningly haemorrhaging money for “major events” like the Grand Prix and the swimming championships. Huge sums of cash are thrown at events that continually clock up massive losses but the expenditure is justified by pointing at unmeasurable economic benefits. Roskam provides a couple of interesting hypotheticals:

If the Government decided to devote an additional $80 million to recruiting extra literacy teachers in primary schools, there would be economic benefits. Better educated students will be more productive once they are in the workforce. But if the Government chose to use the money to have the rocks at the bottom of the Yarra painted red, there would also be economic benefits: paint would be purchased, painters employed and tourists would flock to see a river that was red instead of brown. Such a stunt would certainly generate worldwide headlines.

The question for Victoria is not whether there are economic benefits from taxpayer-subsidised major events, because obviously there are. The question is whether there are better alternative uses for the money.

The world swimming championships kick off in a couple of days and Melburnians can’t wait:

With four days before competition begins, organisers have sold 6500 tickets for synchronised swimming sessions, less than 11 per cent of the target of 60,000.

[...]

Overall, 103,000 tickets have been sold to the championships, which begin this Saturday and run until April 1. No finals event in any sport has sold out.

Mr Scott said there were still 2000 tickets left for Saturday’s opening ceremony. Organisers are still 50,000 tickets behind sales at the last world titles, widely considered an economic disaster. In 2005 in Montreal, Canada, there was an overall budget deficit of $C4.8 million ($A5.25 million).

This monumental white elephant of an event will cost over $50 million of taxpayer money, including who-knows-how-much to send a DVD of “lesson plans” to every school teacher in the state. I found mine in the pigeon hole last week and it will never see the light of day in my classroom. No way am I going to deliver a pathetic and underbaked promotional program masquerading as education. Here’s the blurb from inside the DVD cover:

SPLASH! is a resource of curriculum materials that has been developed to support the 12th FINA World Championships. Teachers can use the materials to create innovative and engaging lessons or unit (sic) of work which provide the opportunity to utilise the Championships as an authentic and exciting learning context.

Clearly the events are exciting. Nearly 7,000 people are excited about the synchronised swimming.

But let’s have a look at some of the innovative and engaging lessons on offer:

Penny The Penguin
The mascot for the 12th FINA World Championships is Penny the Penguin… The framework for the activities within the unit is created by key questions such as:
* What is special about Penny the Penguin?
* Why was Penny the Penguin chosen as a mascot? and
* Why are marine national parks and sanctuaries important?

Marvelous Melbourne
As the host of the 12th FINA World Championships, Melbourne offers a wealth of interesting and educational experiences for locals and visitors alike. The unit guides students through a range of activities where they investigate the diversity of attractions, activities and experiences that Melbourne has to offer locals and tourists.

Swimwear Fashion
Swimwear fashion has evolved over the last 100 years. In this task students relate swimwear fashion to social attitudes at various stages in our history. They research links between swimwear fashion and social history. They develop an advertisement which reflects both the swimwear and attitudes of the 1900s.

Cutural Diversity Week
Melbourne is recognised as being a cosmopolitan city which has been enriched by the rich cultural backgrounds of its citizens. During the 2007 12th FINA World Swimming Championships, people from many different countries and cultures will visit Melbourne. The Cultural Diversity Quest 2007 offers schools and their students an opportunity to explore the culturally diverse society in which they live and to see Melbourne through the eyes of its visitors. This activity encourages students to be truly inclusive of people from all different cultures and backgrounds.

What Did They Say?
Explain that [students] are going to write a short conversation between two athletes competing at the 12th FINA World Championships. They could choose the athletes by browsing the newspaper, sports magazines or related internet sites. When we write a piece of text there may be times when we include dialogue between people. In that instance, the speech of each person is identified using talking marks placed at the beginning and end of their speech.

Still awake? This waste of space was sent to EVERY TEACHER IN THE STATE. I’m no mathematician but my back-of-the-envelope calculations reveal that the design, production and mailout of the DVD cost: heaps. And it’s obviously resulted in a flood of ticket sales.

John Roskam reckons Victorians should wake up and start questioning the ridiculous wastage of their money on subsidising unpopular events. I agree.

The crowd was large and pumped.

Some shit band were playing. Their keyboardist tried to inject some rock and roll into the act by picking up his instrument. It didn’t work.

I love the smell of flare gunpowder in the morning.

Greeny is either celebrating a 6-0 win or ordering six cans of Heinz’s best.

The Editor: man of the people.

Greeny stares dubiously at the dubious kitchen of a dubious Chinese restaurant.

Melbourne has become the laughing stock of the world after the best racial brawl it could manage at a major sporting event was nothing more that a girly-man slapfight. In response to criticism about their lack of manliness the Croatian and Serbian populations of Melbourne have promised the “water pistol fight to end all water pistol fights” in the coming days to restore Melbourne’s international reputation as a town of real fighters.

1) I want you to comment on the cricket I am watching, not constantly refer to your own playing days
2) I hate cliches and metaphors but hate them even more when they’re mixed and mangled
3) I enjoy listening to calm and modulated voices, not incomprehensible screeching at the slightest hint of action
4) Your jokes are really, really, really, unfunny
5) I know the rest of the Channel Nine commentary team is horribly biased but at least they make a cursory effort to hide it

Any others, readers?

This begs the obvious (and slightly disturbing) question: What’s on Shane Warne’s iPod?

Let’s try and put together his playlist in comments.

1) Pauline Hanson desperately seeking attention and money
The broken down, has been, flash-in-a-pan, intellectually challenged, xenophobic political relic has been widely criticised for her latest bout of attention seeking through her declaration of a run for parliament in ‘07 timed, entirely coincidentally, with the launch of her new book. However, what has been totally overlooked by everyone so far is the fact that Hanson is making another bald-faced grab for taxpayer money. At the ‘04 election Hanson ran for parliament in NSW and, despite coming nowhere near victory, pocketed a neat $190,000 of taxpayer cash for her trouble. Obviously Ms Hanson has decided to stick her nose in the taxpayer trough once more which is totally cool if you’re a white, Christian, middle Australian, but not if you’re one of those filthy, bludging Aboriginals or a ghetto-dwelling immigrant.

2) ALP leadership: Hallelujah!
GrodsCorp has been calling for Beazley leadership change since 1 August 2005 and this week our wish came true. I’m no great fan of Rudd (certainly not as anti as J,The) but have been impressed by his work in this first week. He certainly seems to have high recognition in the electorate thanks to his weekly appearances on Channel Seven’s Sunrise (if you were looking for a single program that reaches “middle Australia” then you needn’t look much further) and if he can let his obvious intelligence come to the fore without coming across as academic and elitist then I think he will make an effective leader.

Would’ve preferred Julia Gillard, though. And what’s with the subservient woman thing that she did throughout the entire leadership campaign? Standing dutifully next to Rudd, the man and leader, staring lovingly and barely saying a word? You’re better than that, Julia, and I hope it doesn’t become a feature of your deputy leadership.

3) Channel Nine’s cricket Hotspot camera
What a joke. Goobermetrics calls Channel Nine’s latest effort Crotchspot because its only real use seems to be in confirming that, yes, the player’s groinal area is producing heat. Hotspot works great when the ball smacks the meat of the bat, leaving a bright and undeniable mark, but whenever the camera is called upon after a genuine edge or moment of bat/pad confusion the commentators are forced to draw little circles around invisible “hot spots” and defend the usefulness of this utterly useless “innovation”.

And speaking of commentators, hasn’t the UK’s Channel 4 coverage of last year’s Ashes broadcast on SBS put Channel Nine to shame. Wasn’t it refreshing to have actual analysis of the game last time around as opposed to the brainless and insulting schmaltz that passes for informed commentary by the likes of Messrs Greig, Slater, Healy and Taylor. Why didn’t Channel Nine spend the money they sunk into Hotspot on a respectable commentary team?

I spent the first few hours of today’s play laying on the lounge room floor, bathed in sunlight, watching the cricket on the telly, and texting back and forth with jLo who was watching the game from a pub in London after midnight. At one point jLo wrote:

Ps. How hilarious was that first ball? Funniest opening delivery ever. Why the fuck isn’t Flintoff putting himself on?

And sure enough he picked the ball up the very next over.

Some overs later I was reading another of her texts and missed Hayden being caught out. I wrote:

Missed that because I was reading your text. Neanderthal in the showers.

In response, and referring to GrodsCorp’s relentless ridiculing of Matthew Hayden over time, jLo wrote:

Sorry matey! No great loss, really. Where was Jesus right then, huh?

Informing her that I intended to blog her comments she declared:

I am ever conscious of the fact that my texts may be blog fodder. I’ll look forward to reading it all again tomorrow.

Consider it done, jLo.

This pic snapped by Greeny at the end of last night’s Melbourne Victory 2-0 defeat of Adelaide United sums up the evening he enjoyed with The Editor quite well. A feeling this morning (or is it this afternoon?) of being discarded, trodden on and deflated.

Like other ladies in Internetland, I must confess to having had (not to put too fine a point on it) the raging hots for Zidane. You guys all know that I am helpless before an air of quiet authority (mmm, air of quiet authority), and Mr Z seemed to have it in spades.

Mesmerised, I was, whenever he appeared on screen. I kept it mostly to myself (too sheepish to admit that the best reason I had for wanting France to win the World Cup was a crush on the captain), which meant that those around me were surprised at the force of my emotional reaction to his morphing into a vicious thug before my very eyes.

Now, violence is totally unsexy, of course, but the saddest thing about the whole incident for me was that it just seemed so stupid – why would the captain of a team, moments away from a penalty shootout in which he would inevitably play a key role, do something so incredibly daft? As always, discovering that the object of my yearnings is, in fact, an idiot, killed the crush stone dead.

(Almost. I still find myself getting a little giddy during TV news footage, in case I catch a glimpse of his now calm and besuited self. But I digress).

Gentlemen of my acquaintance have posited that I ‘just don’t understand’ the deep and all-consuming passion of sport, and that Zidane’s actions, while regrettable, are understandable in the context of the heady, desperate emotional maelstrom of a Cup final. Failing to understand that blood-boiling, adrenaline-fuelled fixation on victory that characterises sportspeople at all levels probably explains why I am unlikely to be lifting any major trophies aloft during my lifetime.

What I find particularly interesting, however, is the idea that it may have been an insult to his mother that resonates most strongly with those defending his actions. This article in today’s Guardian discusses the matter at length and outlines the significance of mama-bashing as the ultimate insult in certain cultures.

Now, while I love my mum and am prepared to concede that there might be a cultural aspect to the gravity of the insult, it just doesn’t seem enough. Same goes for being called a ‘terrorist’, if that is indeed what happened – surely an elite sportsperson with years of experience knows better than to react with anything but laughter?

All of this is a roundabout way of asking about the strength of insults. Is there something someone could say to you that would make you snap like that? Can you imagine a situation whereby you felt you had no other option but to retaliate physically?

I cannot – which may be a failure of imagination, or may mean that I have not been properly insulted yet.

(This is not an invitation.)

So Ed leaves BrunswickHQ at 7:30am this morning and walks a couple of minutes up to Sydney Road to catch the tram. 2 minutes and 17 seconds after leaving the house a hooning car flies past with horn blaring and Italian flag flying out the window. Mission: failed. Ed resolves to avoid hearing the score all day so there will be some degree of suspense during tonight’s replay.

Sitting in the staff room at lunch time drinking a cup of tea, two teachers walk in half-way through a conversation. “…and the penalty shoot-out was all Italy.”

Stay tuned for a special review of SBS’s World Cup coverage by The Editor, DrJimbo and Billybob just as soon as the Doc gets off his arse and delivers promised screenshots and Billybob forwards his promised notes.

FIFA are close to conceding to German officials that they may have an epidemic on their hands

Scientist have confirmed that symptoms consist of:
* Feeling faint (especially near grass)
* Losing temporary feeling in the legs when physical contact is made
* Disturbing use of the arms, usually in the upward motion
* Many sufferers have been witnessed to even pray as they are struck by the illness
* Crying out, as if a limb has been amputated, is still to be confirmed

Many readers may have read my bitter attack on Ronaldo (not the fat one) and been shocked at my Craig Foster style analysis of the England vs. Portugal game, but after this announcement I may be forced to publicly apologise to the Moaning Mini. It now appears that he has contracted this disease. Ronaldo has been getting progressively worse over the last four weeks and evidence from the France game indicates that he should obviously be confined to bed as he spent most of the 90 minutes on the turf.

With this new information it appears that the Portuguese FA are going to lodge a formal appeal to ask for all their games to be replayed. It seems the entire team has been affected, with Postiga being the most serious case.

A source close to Scolari has said that he believes that other nations have been affected. Italy, Holland, Mexico and Japan are investigating. The latest causality appears to be Thierry Henry who, as he was falling in the penalty area early today, was seen smiling at the French bench mouthing the words I’ve got it.

Unofficial word suggests that Australia, while not showing the symptoms, may be a carrier of this temporary, but contagious, disease. This could go some way to explaining why Ned Zelic is unable to sit upright in a chair and has been absent from the SBS coverage team lately.

Gutted. Hope Ronaldo dies of a painful illness.

He’s an angry little man right now.

2) Sepp loves suspenders

Back in the 1970s, Sepp Blatter was elected president of the World Society of Friends of Suspenders, an organisation formed to protest at “woman replacing suspender belts with pantyhose”. That, probably, is where he should have stayed. Instead, he gave hope to middle-aged fetishists everywhere by slithering up the greasy pole to become Fifa president.

3) No Jones bio
The ABC has decided not to publish its unauthorised biography of Alan Jones due to the threat of legal action. Meanwhile from The Australia Institute:

There is a widespread belief that Alan Jones can decide elections.

Drawing on demographic and attitudinal data from an extensive survey by Roy Morgan Research, Clive Hamilton shows that perceptions of Jones’ influence and political sway are out of proportion with the size and nature of his audience. His audience is about the same as a low-rating television program and highly concentrated among older listeners with well-established political allegiances.

4) So is she?
Somebody hit GrodsCorp last night with the search string “is jLo saucy?” So, jLo, are you?

My decision to get behind them vocally comes as I hear another woeful analysis from Craig “talc my hair, eyebrows and lips” Foster, the SBS Senior Big Tie Wearing Analyst. His display on the 7pm World Cup Show last night (26/6/06) was appalling and not what I suspect he gets paid for. He shook his head as if he couldn’t be bothered to discuss the match and then proceeded to randomly criticise England without providing any examples of their poor play. To be honest, he did no more analysis than a drunk would have done at closing time. If England’s performance was poor, Fozzie’s performance matched it completely. Bring back the two old geezers that can’t speak a lick of English or even the relaxed Ned Zelic, if he can be propped up long enough.

For all you Australians who have got on the Socceroos’ tails (apologies for the true Socceroo fans among you) football can be a dull, tactical and a slow game. Only Pele and the PR people call it the beautiful game. Yes, we would all like to see 22 Ronaldinhos on the pitch, but if you can say you’ve seen Millwall vs. Palace on a waterlogged pitch in the middle of February then you know that the game is not beautiful 99% of the time.

Results matter, not style. So bring on Portugal and get behind England the entertainers.

Sport’s sport, and the score’s the score. The winning penalty, awarded against Australia’s Lucas Neill, was suspect; so was Marco Materazzi’s red card — maybe they balance each other out? But the Socceroos’ stunning performance at Germany 2006 surely meant they deserved a more dignified exit from the tournament than this.

Adam 1.0 sums the whole thing up passionately.

UPDATE: John Howard…

“I’m brokenhearted,” Mr Howard said.

“It’s a very cruel way to lose, right on the knocker like that, but the team just played so bravely the whole match.”

Right on the knocker?

1. They are better than us. It’s time they shared the glory around.

2. They are bigger than us. Everything about Brazil is big, its foreign debt, its wealth divide, its crime rate and its size.

3. They harboured Nazis and Ronald Biggs. Financially comfortable but morally bankrupt families harboured Auschwitz’s Angel of Death, Dr Josef Mengele, for years until he drowned in 1979 without ever facing justice.

Then Ronnie Biggs turned up. Biggs was doing time for his part in the 2.6 million pound Great Train Robbery of 1963 when he escaped in 1965.

4. They are destroying the planet. The Amazon rainforest is known as the lungs of the world, but between May 2000 and August 2005 it is estimated that Brazil lost more than 132,000 square kilometres of it.

5. They don’t like each other. So why should we like them? Neo-Nazis regularly roam the streets of Sao Paulo looking for street children, punks, homosexuals and Nordestinos (impoverished natives from Brazil’s north-east) to rough up and kill. Brazil reportedly has the highest rate of homosexual murders in the world: 1830 homosexuals and transvestites were killed between 1980 and 1999.

6. They’ve got rhythm. At least we’ve got Moomba.

7. They don’t need us. Brazil is one of the few countries in the world that could get by without the rest of us. It could be an economic powerhouse, if it were ever able to overcome its internal problems. It has enough mineral, energy resources and food to produce all it needs and enough people (184 million) to consume the final product.

Unfortunately, corruption, uncontrolled criminal violence, hyper-inflation and frequent economic upheavals mean they must rely a little longer on the benevolence of the IMF and World Bank.

8. They’re a bad investment. But that hasn’t stopped foreign investors who thought they were getting a bargain by snapping up beachfront apartments in Rio for between $US25,000 to $50,000, only to see their property values fall even lower.

9. Nuts and bikini wax. The country is named after the nut. The bikini wax was created by four Brazilian sisters who opened a beauty salon in New York.

10. They are the Collingwood of South America.

And boy did Sunday Age readers hit back today. The first eight letters in this morning’s edition were highly critical of the article with no supportive letters published. Some highlights:

The article, 10 Reasons Why Brazil Must Fall To The Socceroos (18/6), could not have been in poorer taste.

It raised indignation in the Brazilian community in Australia, and was followed up by one of Brazil’s daily newspapers, fortunately in a more ethical manner.

Surely, there are more constructive and interesting stories for the front page of such an important communication vehicle in Melbourne.

It would be easy for me to come up with many negative examples of life in Australia. Best left unsaid.

Claudio Monken, Roxby Downs, South Australia

It was a vitriolic caricature that pretended to be funny, but was unfair, simplistic and jingoistic.

It refers to Nazis who came and lived in disguise among us as if it were the fault of the Brazilian Government or people. Brazilian borders were also open to thousands fleeing the horrors of the Holocaust.

Ronald Biggs found a haven in Brazil simply because Brazil and Britain only signed an Extradition Treaty in the early 1990s.

The Brazilian Government, having banned the export of endangered mahogany, has been striving to prevent illegal trade within the Indian Reserves between smugglers and Indian chiefs.

A most unfortunate episode of killing poor street children occurred not in Sao Paulo, but in Candelária, Rio de Janeiro, in 1993. Authorities brought the perpetrators to justice.

As for the country’s name: the word “brazil” derives from the red-dyeing wood produced from a tree valued in the European market during the Renaissance. It was only by 1530 that the name Brazil started to be used, not in 1494, since the Portuguese landed on the Brazilian coast only in 1500.

Frederico Cezar de Araujo, Brazilian Ambassador

It was with a great sense of shame that I read your front page article about Brazil. Is sport so important to us that we would need to denigrate our opponents? And in such a malicious manner? What image of us, as Australians, does this give the international community? And what does it tell us about ourselves?

Michelle Hamburg, Maryknoll

The spirit of friendly rivalry appears to have been lost in 10 Reasons Why Brazil Must Fall To The Socceroos. (18/6) In a nation that prides itself on good sportsmanship the humourless cultural attack on Brazil was below the belt and did little to foster the sentiments of friendship and goodwill promoted by an international tournament such as the World Cup. The Socceroos merit recognition with their undeniable talent, not with personal attacks on the nations of other teams.

Vivian Green, Northcote

I know the article on Brazil (18/6) was supposed to be funny, but it wasn’t.

Ricardo Bernal, Werribee

It is indeed a shame that the front-page article on Brazil (18/6) was published. The defence proffered is that it was “tongue in cheek” and a bit of black humour. But it was done in very poor taste. I am a proud and loud supporter of the Socceroos and have been for some time. Consequently, no-one could ever accuse me of not understanding black humour. There is a time and place for everything and this time, you got it horribly wrong.

Christopher Paul, Elwood

The Brazil article (18/6) failed abysmally in its attempt at wit. Instead, it presented as fact misguided and biased information about a country and culture the author obviously knows very little about. Unfortunately, such misrepresentation of another’s culture by a leading Australian newspaper only helps to advance Australia’s image overseas as a xenophobic and insular society.

Elizabeth Cabral Collerson, Chapel Hill, Queensland

Perhaps Jim Schembri, who wrote a biting piece on the quality of blogging a few weeks back, should take a long and hard look at the quality of “journalism” being spewed out of his own paper before again taking aim at other information outlets.

In typical John Howard fashion a camera was conveniently on hand during Australia’s win over Croatia to capture the spontaneous delight of our dinky-di sports-mad PM wearing his best green tracksuit. You know he’s the PM because he’s got the comfy chair and his mates have the dining table seats.

Looking at this photo, Ed was reminded of a great John Clarke and Bryan Dawe sketch the other night. An excerpt:

JOHN CLARKE: It was a great match. (Mobile phone rings and John Clarke answers) Just excuse me a minute, Bryan.

BRYAN DAWE: We’ve only got to draw this game to go through, don’t we?

JOHN CLARKE: Yes. (Talking on the mobile phone) Just a minute, Mr Howard, I’m just doing a live cross. Can I call you – just a minute. (Talking to Bryan) Sorry, Bryan.

BRYAN DAWE: Who is it?

JOHN CLARKE: It’s the Prime Minister – oh, yes, we’ve only got to draw this one. Actually, maybe I should take this, Bryan.

BRYAN DAWE: You should take the call.

JOHN CLARKE: Yes, certainly. Have you got a pencil? It’s soccer. Yes S-O-C-C-E-R. Yes, Croatia -

BRYAN DAWE: It’s in the former Yugoslavia!

JOHN CLARKE: You see, the idea is you’ve got to put that ball -

BRYAN DAWE: Into the net! Into the net!

JOHN CLARKE: Between the goal posts. In the net. You get one point. That’s a goal. That’s one. No, that’s good – one. No, one’s really good. You don’t convert it; you don’t get a conversion.

2) Channel Ten martyrs itself for the cause

Network Ten has blamed critics of the program for its decision to cut short its season of Big Brother – Adults Only.

Announcing the end of its season run, Ten today said it was confident Big Brother – Adults Only had complied with the Television Industry Code or Practice, and that the station had met undertakings on how it would produce the program.

“However, questions continue to be raised as to whether the show should be on air,” Ten said in a statement.

“We did not see that situation changing, regardless of how we treated the program, and that uncertainty was putting unfair pressure on our team.

“We have therefore decided the responsible and practical thing to do was conclude the show a few weeks early.”

Bullshit. As if the network would seriously bow to a dull chorus of Parliamentary disapproval that easily. The real reason is probably closer to a lack of saucy content and disappointing ratings. Nothing more than a convenient excuse.

3) jLo hurts for Oz
Over at her blog jLo describes the system she has used to ensure Australian success in every major sporting event of the last decade, and how the system worked for her in the Australia vs. Croatia match.

Most of you are familiar with the jLo Rules of Sport Spectatorship:

1. You have to barrack for where you come from; and
2. If things are going well, keep doing whatever you’re doing and vice versa.

These rules have generally served me well, and I make a point of observing them strictly. The second rule has led to some discomfort in the past – that Australian Open match where I had to watch through the window because every time I entered the room Rafter’s serve was broken, any number of Test matches where I wasn’t allowed to vacate the couch to visit the bathroom in case a wicket fell.

4) Yossarian’s identity stolen
Chasing up the recent identity theft incident, The Editor called St George Bank.
Ed: “I’d like you to tell me as much as you can about how a credit card was opened in my name.”
Customer Service Agent: “What’s your account password?”
Ed: “I don’t have one. I’m not, and have never been, a customer of St George Bank.”
CSA: “I’m afraid I can’t tell you any information about your account until you prove who you are.”
Ed: “You have no problem loaning $8000 to somebody who pretended to be me, but you won’t tell the real me any information about the account in my name.”
CSA: “What’s your account password?”
Ed: “Have you ever read any Joseph Heller?”
CSA: “Who?”

5) Aroused soldiers

Scientists have found a performance-enhancing drug that could be exploited by endurance athletes at high altitudes and soldiers in the mountains of Afghanistan: Viagra.

Last year the company won approval for Viagra, under the new name Revatio, to treat pulmonary hypertension, or high fluid pressure in the lungs.

Altitude researchers saw the potential of the drug because pulmonary hypertension is also an effect of exercise in oxygen-poor environments. As blood vessels constrict in the lungs, the heart has to work harder to pump blood through the body.

The latest study, conducted in a laboratory, measured the performance of 10 trained cyclists. It found that four of the cyclists had significant improvements in their times with a 50-milligram dose of Viagra but that a larger dose did not increase the benefit.

No answers provided in the article for the question we all want to ask.

6) “One-man blitzkrieg”
Is Prodos “out to wreck the [Liberal] Party at the polls out of, presumably pique, and to exact revenge for the savage, malicious treatment” he received during his preselection campaign?