I can’t remember the first time I touched one, but I remember the first time I saw one.

As I stood next to my mum in our local Fish and Chip shop, I recall peering down toward the rear of the place. There was a doorway with those coloured plastic streamers that are supposed to keep flies out, and through it I could see a small, dimly lit back room. From where I stood I could just make out the polished chrome and glass, flashing lights, and the fabulous sound. Occasionally a figure would traverse the doorway gap, typically in tight Levis and more often than not holding a cigarette. These shadowy figures were to me, the height of cool - just like The Fonz or Vinnie from Welcome Back Kotter. They were the pinball boys.

My neighbour, Morris, first coerced me into this seedy world. He turned up at my house one day, skidding his bike into the driveway, barely able to speak. “Have you seen it! Have you seen it!” he repeated, quickly stepping from side to side. I followed him up the road, a 3km bike ride into a stiff head wind, to the local Caravan Park Kiosk. Here the glittering prize awaited us - a brand spanking new pinball machine.

Walking into the tiny shop for the first time and seeing it was intoxicating, and finding no-one playing it was like discovering hidden treasure. Morris lunged past the counter, and jammed a twenty cent piece in it. As he pressed the button and it served up his first ball, we lost the power of speech… and time stood still. Morris pulled back the knob and launched the ball, bashing the flippers frantically as he watched the ball slowly but surely roll irretrievably into the narrow gap between them. “Oh no!” he squealed. “Lost it down the guts!”. He managed to actually make contact with the second ball, sending it flying back up to the top of the sloping table four or five times before it went down one of the side chutes. On the third ball he managed to trap it with the flipper and hold it still. I stood amazed. “Wow! ” I gasped “You could just hold it there like that all day!”. Morris attempted to aim the ball at one of the targets as he released it, but he mistimed it - and despite a brief recovery, lost the ball down the opposite side chute.

As he fumbled in his pockets for more change we were both distracted as an anonymous hand dropped five shiny twenty cent pieces onto the glass top. Morris looked up to see an older, meaner Italian looking kid in a black jumper standing over him. “‘You finished?” he more sneered than asked, and Morris quickly complied. “Uhhh… uhhhh… yeah… I was ummm…” and we backed away, not taking our eyes off the guy. He slid in front of Morris and slammed all five coins into the machine, quickly pressing the button and launching his first ball. We were rooted to the spot as we watched him play the ball for a good two minutes, slamming the flippers with his palms and gently nudging the front panel with his hips to subtly change the path of the ball. The score had lept to dizzy heights by the time he lost the ball down the side. He played the second ball for even longer, and seemed to fall into a trance like state as he merged with the machine. At one stage the ball jumped and hit the glass, making a loud “crack”, and I swear he didn’t blink.

When he finally finished, the machine did its last tallying of the score, and then there was a loud “crack”. “Shit!” Morris cried, “he got the match!”. “What’s the match?” I asked, obliviously. “It’s when the last two numbers of your score match the lucky number”, Morris explained. “Look” he pointed, “it was 80″. “Ahh”, I replied, “so what happens now?”. Morris rolled his eyes, “he. gets. a. free. game!”. This was just too much for me. “No way! Just for that?”

Pretty much from that moment on I was hooked. For Morris and I the sound of flippers slapping was like cocaine, the crack of a lucky number or better, a high score, like high grade heroine. And like any drug, we soon could not get enough of the stuff. We soon started to behave like addicts, making excuses and lying constantly as any addict does. It wasn’t long before we resorted to petty crime to feed our habit.

… to be continued 

Tags: general, generalboy remembers by generalboy
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Is it just me, or can anyone else relate to getting so caught up and so focused on some “mission”, that at some point you suddenly say to yourself, “what am I doing this for?”.

This happened to me today, as I sat in my office, PC stereo system and subwoofer cranked to well above what Occupational Health and Safety experts would consider legal. To say it was loud is a fair understatement, and it was certainly just on the edge of my limit for “comfortable” enjoyment. But you see, I had to up the db’s as my intended audience was positioned further away, just over my side fence as it turns out.

The 150 minute selection was payback for the irritation I suffered at the hands of my emo twat neighbours last night. Being professional welfare recipients, it probably seemed entirely appropriate to be thumping their inane bassline through my wall at 11:45pm as I attemped to get to sleep - after all, they sure as hell wouldn’t be getting up at 6am to go to work. But knowing they would all be alseep, stoned, or calling in sick to their case officer, I decided 9am this morning was a reasonable time to indulge my aural receptors.

So as I carefully selected tunes that would be especially noisy, it suddenly occured to me that they probably would not even notice the difference. I chose music I liked, in the hope it would sound like “old person music” - a few tunes from Devo’s first 2 albums, a little off Surfer Rosa by The Pixies, and some TISM stuff from the early 90’s for starters. But who’s to say Alec Eiffel cranked to the threshold of pain is more disturbing than, say Born to Try? Could Mongoloid potentially cause little more perterbation for today’s troubled youth than, say, We are the Cheeky Girls? Why should I smile with glee at the thought of I’ll ave ya! rattling the windows of my inconsiderate, dimwitted neighbours, yet shake my head at the annoyance potential of pretty much anything by 50 Cent?

Yes, I thought about it… but if you think it stopped me… think again!

So that was Time Wastin’ Tuesday. How was yours?

Tags: Time wastin' Tuesday, general by generalboy
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As I type this, I am aware that I’ve cut two people out of my life in the last few years.

While one was essentially by proxy and out of solidarity, the other was a decision I made myself after long and careful consideration. Both these people took much more from me than they gave back, but moreso, they did not act in the way people I consider friends do. When it became evident to me they had no intention of mending their ways, I elected to exclude them from my life.

I guess my position could be summed up as “if the net result of having that person in your life is negative, then remove them from it”. Disregarding reasons like violence and emotional abuse, I like to think this is the reason most intelligent, well rounded people would make such a decision. In my case neither separation was immediately preceded by a fiery exchange, and that “I never want to see you again” discussion never happened. Instead, one day I just stopped answering all forms of communication from that person. It didn’t happen on a whim… in both instances there was a long, slow build up, and opportunities for redemption. They weren’t to know where I drew the line, where I said “enough is enough”.

I often wonder at what point they realised what had happened, and if there was anything they could do about it. I don’t have an easy answer for that, and the notion is not one that sits comfortably. Ask a victim of domestic violence if a Leopard can change its spots, and you’ll get an unequivocal “No”. But can these people whom I believe have wronged me really change? Do they walk around carrying the burden that they have done something wrong, and don’t know how to make it right? If they called me tomorrow, would I answer? If I did, could they say or do anything to convince me things would be different?

Sometimes I look years into the future, and see myself looking back at the water under the bridge. I fast forward to the logical conclusion, where I come face to face with that person. I consider the possibility, in one case at least, of that happening as the curtain is closing on their life.

And I think about what I’ll say, and how I’ll say it, and if it will be what they want to hear. And then I wonder if it will get said at all. Ever.

Tags: friendship, general by generalboy
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Anyone who recognises that phrase should be laughing out loud right about now, as it is the precursury catch cry to the ancient TV show, Danger Island.

Danger Island wasn’t a show in its own right but actually part of perennial afternoon school favourite, The Banana Splits. Immediately before the credits for Danger Island began, the cry of “Uh Oh, Choooooooon-goooo! It’s Danger Island!” would alert you to the segment.

The show itself was absolutely ridiculous, the “Dangers” on the Island seemingly consisting entirely of black spray tanned cannibals with bad aphro wigs, endlessly repeated footage of a bored looking shark, and small, wild kittens. These were detailed in the opening credits, in fact, beyond them there wasn’t really much to the show at all. The show pretty much was the opening credits.

I can remember loving the crazy 60’s theme tune and anticpating it whenever I heard that wonderful chant - but of the actual show, I remember very little. I’m pretty sure once the show started, I generally got bored with it in about 7 seconds and wandered off to get a fresh piece of white bread that I could squeeze into a doughy ball and munch on.

So here it is… the opening credits to Danger Island. Sadly, this version is sans Chongo… but you get the idea. Enjoy.

Tags: general, generalboy remembers by generalboy
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There’s nothing like a 140km round trip to do an installation, where you have foolishly assumed the rack was all set up correctly before it was shipped… but instead find it’s a complete shambles and you have to abort the mission. Hey… at least I got some nice pictures of the South Coast… and it was all tax deductable. So… ummm yeah… that was Time wastin’ Tuesday. How was yours?

Tags: Time wastin' Tuesday by generalboy
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As the sun rises over the henhouse, the early rising chickens stretch and blink, slowly easing into their busy day. Violet is already at work; she is always busy in the henhouse before everyone else. She likes all the other chickens to think she is diligent, and has a good work ethic. She often tells the other chickens about how hard she works.

A short time later, Matilda arrives and bids Violet good morning. She complains about some of the other chickens who walk slowly and hold her up on her way to work. Why can’t they get a move on? she asks impatiently. Matilda takes up her place opposite Violet, and fluffs up her feathers to look important. Matilda is higher in the pecking order than Violet, and knows the Roosters like looking at her chest feathers. Violet is a very large chicken, and she can’t seem to stop eating! But her and Violet get along just fine.

Violet and Matilda have settled into a nice chat by the time Phoebe arrives. They are gossping about one of the roosters named Arnold. Arnold is married to a hen named Alice, but he keeps sneaking off at night with another hen named Dixie. Poor Alice, they say… she doesn’t suspect anything. Phoebe joins in, because she loves to gossip and spends much of the day reading about celebrity birds while she should be working. All the roosters notice Phoebe, she is a pretty young hen with perfect chest feathers and long, toned thighs. Sometimes Matilda gets jealous, because whenever Phoebe’s around none of the roosters notice her. She gives Phoebe menial, boring jobs to do as revenge.

Finally, after everyone has settled down, Cassandra arrives. Cassandra is at the top of the pecking order, the team leader, who has recently come back to work after having a chick. Matilda was the leader while Cassandra was away, and she thinks she did the job better. Violet and Phoebe agree. Cassandra greets the other hens, then has to dash off to an important meeting with the roosters. As soon as she has left the henhouse, the other hens begin to gossip. “She is always late” says Matilda, “I have three chicks and I still manage to do my job” complains Violet. Phoebe looks up from her magazine. “Sorry… I wasn’t paying attention!” she giggles. They all complain about Cassandra.

By 10:30 the hens are quiet and busily working when they hear a sound from across the yard. Cockadoodle doo! Cockadoodle doo! They all look up from their work, because they know Rocky is on his way. Cockadoodle doo! he cries, getting louder as he gets closer to them. Rocky bids all the hens good morning. “Gooood morning ladies!” he says cheerfully. “Good morning Rocky!” they all reply. Rocky loves visiting the henhouse, he likes to come in and stir up all the hens. Rocky thinks he is the best looking and the funniest rooster in the yard, but nobody else does! He tells them all stories about all the other hens he meets, and how great they think he is.

Cassandra returns from her meeting and says hello to Rocky, and he smiles. Rocky likes Cassandra, but he wonders why she married such a jerk Rooster. Maybe one day she’ll leave him and Rocky could have her all to himself. He keeps hoping. After about a quarter of an hour Rocky has to go, and he yells a final “Cockadoodle doo!” before strutting off. The hens laugh about him once he’s gone, but they still like the attention.

At lunchtime Cassandra wanders off and is gone for almost two hours. Matilda knows Cassandra is off fossicking for herself, but she’s told the roosters she is at work. “She has run off on her own again when she should be here”, Matilda complains to Violet. Matilda has had enough and tells one of the roosters, and when Cassandra returns, the rooster takes her aside and tells her off. Cassandra knows Violet or Matilda must have complained. She knows they team up against her. Meanwhile Phoebe has still done very little work, but the roosters don’t complain. It’s nice to have Phoebe to look at, even if she isn’t all that smart!

Early in the afternoon Violet finishes for the day. She hasn’t done much work, but she has made sure everyone knows what an early starter she is. Matilda and Phoebe say goodbye as she picks up her things and leaves. Cassandra is glad Violet is leaving, because she plans to go soon as well. She spends the next 45 minutes talking through the chicken wire to her rooster husband. They have plans for the weekend they need to sort out. Matilda wonders why they have to talk about it during work time. Soon after, Cassandra packs up her things and leaves. “Goodnight” she says cheerily, before trotting off across the yard.

As the sun gets low Matilda is still hard at work, as Phoebe says goodbye and leaves for the day. One of the Roosters walks by and asks Matilda where Cassandra is. “She’s gone home”, Matilda answers. A short time later another Rooster asks the same thing. Matilda frowns to herself. She wonders why the roosters brought Cassandra back to the henhouse to take over. She doesn’t think Cassandra has earnt the right to tell her what to do, when she does all the hard work and Cassandra takes the credit.

When all is quiet, she opens up her notebook and scratches some more notes about Cassandra. One day she’ll give the notebook to the head rooster. And things will be different after that…

Tags: TOS, general by generalboy
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1. When kids ate too many bags of hot chips, got fat, and their parents *didn’t* sue the owner of the take away shop
2. When people watched where they were going when negotiating uneven city street paving
3. When the first words following an accident were “are you OK?”, instead of “are you insured?”
4. When you could actually hurt yourself at an adventure playground
5. When wacky, fun family events like The Birdman Rally could afford public indemnity insurance
6. Streakers, and Prosh week, and harmless civil disobedience
7. When the masterminds of financial blunders were punished, and publicly shamed
8. When it was a surprise to know whether you had a baby girl or boy… not a litigation opportunity
9. When the speed limit was 20km/h faster and half the people on the road after 10pm were pissed… and hardly anyone crashed!
10. When people understood that if you fucked up, you accepted it, learnt from it, and moved on.

Tags: general, generalboy remembers by generalboy
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pffft. surfers. think you know how to waste time, huh?

… and that was Time wastin’ Tuesday.
How was yours?

Tags: Time wastin' Tuesday, general by generalboy
2 Comments »

we’re all good?

I’d seen the nagging blue flashing IM button in my taskbar, but ignored it while I waited for a long script to finish running. I double clicked to see it was Mr Blonde.

Suddenly it occured to me that I hadn’t talked to him in almost a month. Then I looked in my inBox and saw a few jokes he’d sent ( he is a good filter… if Mr Blonde sends a joke it’s ALWAYS worth opening and checking out ), and noted I hadn’t replied to one of them.Hmmmm…. yes… I had been busy… snowed under with tax commitments, social engagements, work commitments, and a particularly good run of surf. I realised I’d also promised some stuff and never sent it. Oops. And then it hit me. Does he think I am pissed off about something? Does he think I was snubbing him for some reason? Suddenly I felt awful, as I’ve known Mr Blonde for a good many years, and even though he lives in Big City, we always keep in touch. I hesitated, then quickly tapped out a reply:”Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyy! Bloody hell where have I been??? Sorry mate… been snowed in by 20 feet of shite last couple of months. Howzit?

His first replies were a bit short, non-comittal… and I sensed he was perhaps cautious - but before long all was back to normal. We were good.

But it started me thinking, and I realised I hadn’t heard from BP in almost three weeks. I looked back through my older texts, and found his last two. They were very short, the second only two words. It’s rare to go two days without one of us texting or calling the other about something, but it wasn’t until I though back I realised there’d been an unusually long gap. He’d smashed his shoulder up on a borrowed personal water craft and I knew he was not too thrilled about that, and there’d been some other stuff at home he was struggling with a bit. I flicked through the mandatory 12 menus Motorolla requires until you can “Create new message”, and tapped one out.

“Mate! flat chat last few weeks.. how’s the shoulder? Up for a wave yet?

About half an hour later the phone rang, with BP sounding fairly chipper. The shoulder was on the mend, and he was keen to get back in the water, and I was a bit relieved.

In both cases though, I am convinced both friends felt a little, well, displeased. These aren’t clingy or needy people in any sense of the word… but it’s just a bit of a vibe you get. It made feel bad because despite having some major demands on my time of late, I’d been neglectful of people who mean a lot to me.

It got me wondering if it’s a product of the modern world - where we have so many options to communicate with people, all the time, that there’s an expectation we always will. Then when we don’t, there’s an instant assumption there’s something wrong. If we don’t answer EVERY phone call ( meeting or not ), EVERY text, EVERY email and EVERY flashing blue IM window, instantly, we are either snubbing the sender, or on life support in intensive care. There’s no other rational explanation.

I’ll admit that at times, well, ok, all too often, I am not the snappiest when it comes to electronic replies - but when all is said and done, I have to prioritise. I make no apologies for that.

So if I don’t reply instantly, don’t worry… I’m not lying bleeding to death somewhere, and I still love you. I’m just busy.

Tags: friendship, general by generalboy
3 Comments »

• when people first started signing out of chat rooms with *poof*
• when it was rare to meet another person who owned a dotcom, and only one place in Australia allowed you to register a .com.au, and one man approved every single application
• when online advertisers offered $150 per 1000 ad clicks, and Google Adwords didn’t exist
• discovering transparent GIF’s
• Firefly
• when dialup plans jumped from 33.6k to a blistering 56k
• when everyone started using frames in their web pages
• when ebay wasn’t a rip off run by wankers, and anyone who had a feedback score greater than 50 was worshipped as a god
• when you could buy your own Static IP address and keep it forever
• Netscape Navigator 1.0
• creating my first javascript image rollover, and a year later, getting my first “Hello world” Java Applet uploaded and running in a web page
• Napster before knob jockeys like Lars Ulrich found it and cried to the feds
• when CGI ruled
• when no-one knew what a blog was

Tags: general, generalboy remembers by generalboy
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