Terry Schiavo has a blog. Amazing there hasn’t been more about this in the mainstream press.
Meanwhile, Terry’s feeding tube has found new purpose helping the old pope to cling desperately to life while, presumably, enduring terrible pain.
(Schiavo link via Hans, to whom you can direct your anger, not me.)
From the editorial column of the 1 April issue of Scientific American:
In retrospect, this magazine’s coverage of socalled evolution has been hideously one-sided. For decades, we published articles in every issue that endorsed the ideas of Charles Darwin and his cronies. True, the theory of common descent through natural selection has been called the unifying concept for all of biology and one of the greatest scientific ideas of all time, but that was no excuse to be fanatics about it.
The full text is a breath of fresh, if somewhat cynical air. Well worth reading. Via Boing Boing.
Kabi has finally posted pictures from his “Little Britain”-themed entry in this year’s Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. I briefly contemplated flying up to Sydney to join this group, but demurred. Seeing these pictures, I wish I hadn’t.
Just got back last night from a long weekend camping at Lake Elizabeth in the Otway Ranges with Brent, the dogs, and our friends Fiona and Fiona.
Was a beautiful and relaxing weekend’s camping, with a side-trip to the Twelve Apostles on the way home. There are some photos on Flickr.
I have today (Tuesday) off as well, and will be working on, and hopefully finalising, the move of buggery.org to its new home. There will be some design changes too. Hopefully it will all go smoothly but if this is the last word you hear from me, it means I didn’t finish.
Normal blogging operations will resume immediately thereafter.
Our holiday accommodation in Daylesford last weekend came with all mod. cons, including a DVD player and a selection of cheaply pirated movies from Hong Kong. In a moment of inspired lunacy, we decided to watch The Last Samurai with the English-for-the-hearing-impaired subtitles on.
Very weary and worn after a really stunning Chillout festival here in Daylesford. An amazing day which I’m far too weary to write about now. There are photos on Flickr which do better storytelling than I could manage anyway.
Back to Melbourne tomorrow.
Greetings from Daylesford, the gateway to Victoria’s spa country and, this weekend, the queerest country town in the world.
We’re here for the Chillout festival and I can report that Daylesford is rising to the challenge — pretty much every building in the town seems to have a rainbow flag (yeah, I know…) flying, and there are queers of every variety, shape, size and inclination wandering the very short main street. Photos on Flickr.
Weather is stunningly good, we had a great evening last night under the spell of the divine Mr Paul Capsis, and now we’re off to a lesbian battle of the bands.
George was born on 4 May 1985.
George liked cars. He had a “need for speed”.
George (or his friends?) liked Johnnie Walker Scotch Whisky.
George’s favourite foods were McDonalds Chicken McNuggets and french fries.
George liked (played?) soccer.
George’s car collided with a tree at the end of my street in the early hours on Sunday morning.
When I asked one of the cops who had closed the street and were guarding over the remains of the tree (waiting for the crash investigators?) at 6:30 on Sunday morning whether it was a bad crash, he said “Yeah, bad. Very bad.”
George’s friends held a vigil and erected a roadside shrine to their dead friend on Sunday night. It’s still there (even the Chicken McNuggets).
George was just 19 years old. His death was not newsworthy enough to make the papers. I didn’t know him, except as a consequence the proximity of my house to his place of death. Sad.
More photos of George’s shrine here, here and here.
Update, Thursday: I know more about George now, from this story in today’s Age.
