The Fugitive

Reece Craig Brown owes me five thousand and seventy six dollars and forty three cents. I am willing to ignore the first two dollars and forty three cents but I want the five thousand and seventy four dollars and I do intend to get it.
Reece entered my life with a bang. That bang was his Toyota Landcruiser smashing into the rear of my uninsured white 1992 model Ford Laser whilst I was waiting to enter a roundabout.
After my car limped to the side of the road I met a nervous guy in his early twenties who introduced himself, face to face this time as Reece. I was greeted with a friendly apology, and a reassuring "Yes", to my question "Are you Insured?". This was a weight lifted. Put in a claim, car is replaced, all is good and we get on our merry way..........until Reece finished his sentence with "....aahhh well, My other car is insured, but don't worry I have plenty of money."
The damage to my car was pretty noticeable, it looked like a Toyota Landcruiser smashed into the back of it, meanwhile Reeces Landcruiser looked like it had seconds before the accident. No diffrent, they make those machines tough. No wonder the Bush Tucker Man drives one.
I get his numberplate, mobile phone number, address and his expired licence number. Yes, expired.
I limped my car home and got two quotes for repair, five thousand dollars for one and around six for the other. Way more than the car is worth, and I would have hesitated to guess, problay more that what my new friend Reece had in his bank account.
Yes you may have guessed by now that I did not have my car insured. This is foolish. I have learned.
Now, I am a reasonable and fair man(child). I can understand that asking Reece to pay me $5000 to repair my beloved white chariot back to its pristene condition would be a bit of an ask, so when I rang him, I gave him the option of paying the resale amount what was about half the repair amount, and doing this in installments. It was at this point that I heard the phrase that I would hear many times over. "I cant do anyfing, I havint got anyee muney". I reminded him that he told me earlier that he had plenty of money and it woulnt be a problem. He answered "I didnt fink it would be that much". This was a little insulting, it may have been more than ten years old, and was the kind of car that a mother would take the kids to sports practice in, but it was my car and I had to pay money every week for it.
In fairness he did offer to give me his 1982 holden premier, that was unroadworty and unregistered. I declined, (althought I did wonder if this was the 'other car' that was insured), I asked for his Landcruiser, he declined. Stalemate.
One year passed, he never rang, I got a new car and I drove that new car to the Caloundra court house and listed the matter for small claims court.
I was suprised that he turned up, on crutches, dont know if they were for show or someone had kneecaped him over another matter. We went before the judge, I stated my case, and then Reece told his side. I almost felt sorry for him. He put up no fight, and when asked what happened he said "I just woznt lookin and just smashed inoo him". I felt like Matlock. I presented the judge with the amount and was awarded the five thousand dollars plus court costs. Win.
Reece was given 28 days to pay or make arangements to pay, but instead he decided to move house.
Reece dosent take my calls anymore either. I wonder if he loses any sleep over it. I would.

The problem is, that it is alot of money, and I want it. I went to court and the law says he has to pay me, but they are not going to sent the CIB out to get him.
I have to do it.
Its kind of fun to hunt somone, kind of like a hobby. He is Moby Dick and I am Captain Nemo. Im Tommy Lee Jones and he is Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. I wonder if he feels like this? Mabe he feels a bit like Tony Mokbel, or the postcard bandit, mabe he is solving peoples problems whist I am just a whisper behind him like the A-Team, or mabe he thinks it will all go away if he wishes hard enough.
Time will Tell.

Filling The Hump Of Hate

My Anxiety is called Trevor. I call it Trevor because he deserves a name. Trevor is one of those friends that means well, but for the most of it, he is full of shit. He says the wrong thing at the wrong time, and he wants to bring everyone down to his level.
Trevors job is to tell me when I am about to get hit by a truck, car, fist, or partner. He is the "first warning point man", fight or flight. He tells the heart to start pumping, the eyeballs to dilate, and the teeth to grind and the butterflies in the stomach to flutter in anticipation. As I don't get hit very often I am assuming that Trev is bored and want to alert me on everything. This is a problem as I do not like to feel this way when I go to the shop to buy milk, or talk to someone that I haven't met before or any number of social interactions.
I have finally told Trev to shut the fuck up. I probably have to say this to him a few times a week, but when I first was alert to him, it was daily.
I was diagnosed with anxiety at the beginning of this year by a friend whom I owe a huge thanks to, just to realize that this is a condition and his name is Trevor, is a huge burden lifted.
After I got a grasp of this condition and started treating it, I got to talking to a number of people that I know, and there are a huge percentage of people that suffer from this, and don't even realize. I find myself telling people that they don't have to live like this, and if they want to stop talk to a GP.
This week I had one of those days, but instead of listening to Trevor, I went over the facts of the situation with reason and logic. I feel much better for it. I didn't go crazy with the stress of the situation and what it could mean. I just wrote it down, wrote this blog and got on my merry way.
Oh and I played the punk rock on the guitar, because I can, even if Trevor thinks I suck.

That bayd mahn won hurt mah sistuh!

Ok Right off the bat I will say that pedophiles are filthy, gross, deplorable,they are the lowest form of human, blah, blah, blah. I feel better now, because apparently you are either with the mob or with the pedophiles, who are with the Terrorists, who, by the way, hate our freedom.

What are we going to do about Dennis Ferguson? That slimy object of our uniformed hate. What a dilemma I have. I don't like the creepy rock spider one bit, but does that put me on the side of the lynch mob gathered outside the semi rural property he now resides on? I hope not. I have opposing thumbs, and this one fact separates me from the mob that have gathered there. I have a feeling, that if Dennis snuck out, put on fake glasses and mustache, joined them and started yelling and frothing at the mouth, he would fit right in and no one would realize, in fact they would probably put him in charge of the three C's, Coffee, Cardboard and Crayons.

Dont fear though unruly mob, for I have the answer! I cannot believe that no one has thought of this earlier. There is a place for him to live that will keep everybody happy. "Whaaaa?" I hear you say "A place for duh bahd mahn dat hurd the purdy chilrun?" Yes there is, and that place is the Big Brother compound! It is the perfect choice. Dennis gets a home, Channel 10 gets a new show, and the protesters get a day at dreamworld. Win Win Win.

To make it a bit more interesting we can throw in some house mates, Ivan Milat (put him in the combi), Mick Gatto, Cardinal Pell . Get that cardinal in the voting room "I like Dennis, I really do, he is such a special person, he is soooooo consential but I am going to have to give him one vote coz he keeps taking my hand cream, and I'm going to give Ivan two votes because he always wants me to join him in the garden for a run"

Alternatively they can put some of these protesters in there, that would be fun, watch them as they discuss who is the hottest, and eventually, you just know that one of them will make Dennis their BFF, whist they brush each other hair.

This way someone gets to make some money out of all this. Although I am sure all the news stations have the community's best interests at heart. I'm sure that they get just as much of kick out of filming these nutjobs as I do in watching them.

Wireless is no longer a radio

Please. Please. I just want to press play on the remote, then the movie plays, we sit and watch it, laugh at the funny bits, and then move on. Thats not too much to ask is it?

Do you remember the old days when a movie was put on free to air television on a Sunday night and everybody waited in excitement for 8.30. As a child it was even better, Fat Cat went to bed at 7.30 in Adelaide, we know this because they broadcast it every night, that educationally muted cat yawning and putting his nightcap on and turning out the light, and it was used as a tool to get the children off the streets and into bed. It worked, Adelaide has a fine reputation for a good nights sleep, Adelaide also has a fine reputation for shallow graves, but that is another story for another time.

The point I am making though is, less is more. The networks would have just one movie that they promoted the bejesus out of all through the week, all the best bits on the add, Jaws eating the boat, Darth and Luke in a spark flying light saber battle, Mr T plummeting Rocky, you get the idea. When the movie started on the 32 inch, mono color tv if you were rich enough, black and white if you were not, you were captivated, hypnotized by the fact that you were watching this blockbuster film in the convenience and comfort of your own home. The next day you would discuss with your school friends who got to stay up the latest to see the end credits.

Then there was the video player. My dad chose beta. The HD DVD of the 80s. Eventually we were reduced to about three titles at the video shop but at the time, it was a emporium of wonder, all these titles and cardboard cutout promos, with every Herbie film ever made staring back at me from the shelves.

I cannot remember the cost of membership at the video shop, but it was more than $50, nor can I remember the cost of the rental, needless to say that the concept of 'cheap tuesdays' was more than a decade away.

Video was the perfect tool for the household, switch on tv, turn to channel 0, press play on video, fast forward through the warnings of jail and fines, maybe a bit of "Have you ever rented a video that wasn't quite right............." (which I have, but I don't think it was the copy's fault - Crocodile Dundee 3 I am looking at you), anyway the point is, convenience.

If there was a problem, the video may crinkle a bit, or even stop, you just fast foreward and all is good, and then there was the recording.....oh the recording. Sitting up in Mums lounge room late Friday nights watching Rage, remote in hand, finger poised over the record button, waiting for just the right moment to get the opening strains of Star Treckin', and Richard Wilkins on Australian Mtv doing a special on The Cure, that hair, what was with that? Robert Smiths was pretty strange too.

I had tapes and tapes of curiosity's, episodes of Married with Children, Ren and Stimpy. My friend, had a three hour tape full of The Simpsons, that was gold. That was passed around, and we learned every line....."My eyes, These goggles they do nothing!", I cant remember my loved ones birthdays, but I can recall in an instant the dialoge from any simpsons episode.

Then in the mid 90s DVD came along, the CDs of the movie world. $1000+ when they first came out. The picture, the sound, the convenience............but you couldn't record on them, and when they had a scratch, the picture didnt crinkle and wobble, it stopped...dead. Video players started to be ignored. At first the DVDs took up a few shelves at the side of the video shop, then slowly they expanded, conquering the video shop like an invading army, and the videos cassets surrendered to the back dusty corners. I do remember when I got my first dvd player though, I briskly walked past all the crusty, clunky videos to the promised land of the DVD isle like I had been invited into AV heaven.

I don't go to the video shop anymore.. It has come to this partly because of convenience but mainly because of late fees. You know you have a problem when you are shunned from all the video store major players, and you get your DVDs from the dingy indy video shop, with all the other lost souls who cant remember to return their movies on time.

Now the video shops come to me via the internet. I have a Xbox with Microsofts Media Center on it, a laptop, wireless router and a desktop computer. Let me explain. My LCD is connected to my Xbox, this runs Micrososft Media Center, that wirelessly connects to my router, this connects to my laptop, which has downloaded DRM movies from Bigpond movies, unmetered through my ISP. Confused? That was the easy bit. Then there are the setups, the passwords, the "cannot connect" messages, the license for the movie you are watching that expires in 48 hours. The remote control that takes 5 seconds to respond.... I cannot put in words how annoying this is.

There are thousands of movies on offer, all at a price, or if you hate freedom, Metallica, or just want to fund terrorism, you could just take them for free, like a pirate.
I cannot work out how they connect pirates with downloading movies off the net, I would have prefered the term "Ninja". Would have made it sound more sinister. "Police arrested a sophisticated team of Ninjas today and prevented thousands of copys of Family Guy from hitting the streets................."

Anyway, I have again digressed from the point, and this is, when there was less to offer, what we had was special. The first record I had, I listened to over and over. This was INXS 'Listen like thieves' by the way, now I have over 4000 songs on my ipod, some I have no idea where they come from.....ninjas probably. They are not special, not like that INXS record or that showing of Star Wars at 8.30 Sunday night some time in the mid 80s, they are just a collection of ones and zeros on my computer.

This feeling may change the day they open a second hand MP3 shop, but I doubt it.

I do love children, they just have too much gristle!

I do love my children, honest I do.
I have to, you kind of enter a contract when you have sex, a bit like Russian Roulette with a penis. I am not saying this as a bitter old man who has seen his life and dreams be taken by a few moments of pleasure....noooooo. I am saying this as a manchild who has seen his life and dreams taken away by a few moments of pleasure.

Yes, I am by no way mature enough to take the title of man, I may inhibit the body, but the mind still thinks that milo and yogurt together in a mug with iced magic on top is wicked. I still love to make flame throwers with a lighter and a can of fly spray. Anton Enis the news reader on SBS still cracks me up (because his name sounds like penis).
Saying all this, I have have now embarked on the baton pass of life and I am now a father, four times over in fact. I have four children that look to me how I looked at my father when I was of the same age. I used to think that my fathers wallet was always full of money, I can understand the frustration of my children in Kmart, when they all want Ben 10 watches and I tell them no, how they can tell me that a PlayStation 3 isn't that expensive........although I have tried that same reasoning on my partner....she tells me it is....but gee I want one.....for the kids of course.

It is frighting that there is no one moment that it all falls into place. There is no rules and no one right way, just a understanding what is probably the wrong way, you will know this when Today Tonight are at your door questioning your morals.

I recently spoke to a old schoolfriend through facebook who was frustrated about how people treated her and her decision at this moment in her life, not to have children. I sent her a message saying how much I envied her, and I sent her this montage on what impact children have had on my life.

"Children are annoying, they stink, they ask stupid questions, they don't listen to the answers, they think they know everything, they touch things they shouldn't, they wake me up early, they cost too much, they need constant attention, they are never happy, they argue over stupid things, they make up jokes that are not funny, they make me late, they want to always go to the playground, i cant stay out late, they get poo everywhere but where it should be, they dribble in my mouth, they slap me on the head first thing in the morning, they don't respect me, they alway want to play xbox when i am, I cant play Gears of War when they are in the room, they get all the good food, they always want what I have, I have to do tuck shop, they cry in public places, they always want a doughnut, one visit to santa is never enough, no one knows who broke my cd shelf, I cant say boobies anymore because apparently Its teaching them bad words, baby clothes have pockets and I don't know why, a soiled nappy is never good at any time, you never get used to touching poo, they talk in high pitched tones when they are complaining, they open their eyes really big and say "yes daddy" when I tell them off and I know, and they know, that they are playing me. They leave half eaten bread around the house, last night I found noodles in my bed, I cant play the guitar anymore and I cant remember if i can anymore, they are more interested in Guitar Hero on the xbox than someone who can really play the f#*king thing, they get water all over the bathroom floor, they are always hungry, but only for food they want, they always want me to get them a drink, they never need to go to the toilet when I ask, only 10 minutes later when its not appropriate, babys put everything into their mouth, my teeth are ground to stubs, my car...my beautiful car......"

Dont get me wrong though, there are many good points, you know them when they happen, but the biggest thing is that they have no one else, you cant pass them on if they get too hard, how I wish that sometimes they had a off button and I could go back to sleep, they don't and you cant. You can only do the best you can, and wait until they get passed the baton.

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