"The solar bowl is used for cooking, they claim."
Don't be so sceptical. It works! Perfect tool to try and reduce emissions and deforestation.
As for heat rash, try your basic Johnston's baby powder.
I can't resist this. It's The Burnside Message by Grandmaster Key and the Furious 48 (or however many Nat MPs there are). Well, here's the original. Yow!
Broken glass everywhere
People pissing on the stairs, you know they just
I cant take the smell, I cant take the noise
Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice
Rats in the front room, roaches in the back
Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat
I tried to get away, but I couldnt get far
Cause the man with the tow-truck repossessed my car
Dont push me, cause Im close to the edge
Im trying not to loose my head
Its like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder
How I keep from going under
Standing on the front stoop, hangin out the window
Watching all the cars go by, roaring as the breezes
Crazy lady, livin in a bag
Eating out of garbage piles, used to be a fag-hag
Search and test a tango, skips the life and then go
To search a prince to see the last of senses
Down at the peepshow, watching all the creeps
So she can tell the stories to the girls back home
She went to the city and got so so so ditty
She had to get a pimp, she couldnt make it on her
Its like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder
How I keep from goin under
My brothers doing fast on my mothers t.v.
Says she watches to much, is just not healthy
All my children in the daytime, dallas at night
Cant even see the game or the sugar ray fight
Bill collectors they ring my phone
And scare my wife when Im not home
Got a bum education, double-digit inflation
Cant take the train to the job, theres a strike
At the station
Me on king kong standin on my back
Cant stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliac
Midrange, migraine, cancered membrane
Sometimes I think Im going insane, I swear I might
Hijack a plane!
My son said daddy I dont wanna go to school
Cause the teachers a jerk, he must think Im a
And all the kids smoke reefer, I think itd be
If I just got a job, learned to be a street sweeper
I dance to the beat, shuffle my feet
Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps
Cause its all about money, aint a damn thing
You got to have a con in this land of milk and
They push that girl in front of a train
Took her to a doctor, sowed the arm on again
Stabbed that man, right in his heart
Gave him a transplant before a brand new start
I cant walk through the park, cause its crazy
After the dark
Keep my hand on the gun, cause they got me on the
I feel like an outlaw, broke my last fast jaw
Hear them say you want some more, livin on a
A child was born, with no state of mind
Blind to the ways of mankind
God is smiling on you but hes frowning too
Cause only God knows what you go through
You grow in the ghetto, living second rate
And your eyes will sing a song of deep hate
The places you play and where you stay
Looks like one great big alley way
Youll admire all the number book takers
Thugs, pimps, pushers and the big money makers
Driving big cars, spending twenties and tens
And you wanna grow up to be just like them
Smugglers, scrambles, burglars, gamblers
Pickpockets, peddlers and even pan-handlers
You say Im cool, Im no fool
But then you wind up dropping out of high school
Now youre unemployed, all null n void
Walking around like youre pretty boy floyd
Turned stickup kid, look what you done did
Got send up for a eight year bid
Now your man is took and youre a may tag
Spend the next two years as an undercover fag
Being used and abused, and served like hell
Till one day you was find hung dead in a cell
It was plain to see that your life was lost
You was cold and your body swung back and forth
But now your eyes sing the sad sad song
Of how you lived so fast and died so young
Great post! Most enjoyable. Keep it up, David. But while Auckland's dysfunctionality smells, it is still the most culturally diverse city in New Zealand and while it can't compete yet with Sydney on this level, it is still our most multi-cultural city, and that's a huge plus. And I'm saying this as a Wellingtonian.
Actually the soundtrack of my summer has been the Marie Antoinette soundtrack - a melange of post punk hits and tinkly instrumental bits. Isn't it great that the Gang of Four, Bow Wow Wow, the Cure, Adam and the Ants, New Order are having their day in the sun again? And let's face it, I Want Candy by Bow Wow Wow could be the sound of any summer - even a shabby wet one.
PS You'll need to get a dart gun for those ducks.
Being in India would make any journalist reassess their definition of news - particularly coming from a New Zealand news and current affairs environment. Certainly news of a protest and riot on this scale for national domestic consumption would be considered a minor story. As I have noted, there is no such thing as a slow news day in India. I would be interested to know what level of coverage the regional newspaper The Deccan Herald gave the incident. And happy birthday, by the way!
Keith, make sure you contact Sudha Ramachandran while you are in Bangalore. Here is a link with some biodata about her - http://www.stimson.org/southasia/vf.cfm?ID=63.
She may have some interesting leads for you while you're in India. Sudha is a very experienced, dynamic and dedicated journalist who is a contributor to the Asia Times Online (www.atimes.com) and NatRad listeners might have heard her do the occasional two-way with Kim Hill.
Obviously any references to climate change and how India's increasing industrial might be mulling any measures to reduce carbon emissions. Personally, and on an unrelated level, I'd love to know what the authorities in India are doing to save the tiger. Extinction beckons.
I want to blow the whistle on you for those that didn't hear it. You are suspected of being responsible for several seizures among the more senior members of the National Radio listening audience for playing Whoop! Whoop! This is the sound of the Police! by KRS One and Into the Groovy by Ciccone Youth, two previously unheard songs on the Rainy Day at the Batch segment of Summer Report. A memory to treasure.