So I was looking in eBay at XBox games. Nothing that really grabbed me at a price that was enough below the retail to make it compelling. But at the bottom of the screen was one of those computerised guess things, where they have a wild stab in the dark about other items you might be interested in.

Its suggestions were:

• three different 4 DVD sets from Survivor (Thailand, Amazon, Pearl Islands). Now, obviously they are not to know that I have never watched Survivor in my life. But even not knowing that, why would looking at XBox games label me as some kind of Survivor-watcher? One fanatical enough to want to watch it over and over again on DVD? I mean, even if you liked it on TV, what’s the point of owning the DVD? Isn’t most of the excitement in the suspense of it all?
• a DVD called Seduction For Lovers. I’m guessing it’s a psuedo-educational porn DVD. Great. I think I’ll pass on that, thanks all the same.
• the DVD of Chicken Run. Outstanding. Quite a fun movie, and perhaps the best of the guesses, apart from the fact that I already own it.

When I was starting primary school in the mid-70s, the second world war had been over for about 30 years. It was still in people’s minds — they still talked about it, a whole episode of Fawlty Towers was based around the recent memory of it. By the time I was in high school with a weekend job, WW2 had been over for about 40 years, and the owner of the shop and many of his friends were veterans. WW1 was very much ancient history, having finished 60-70 years previously. There were survivors from it around, but it seemed so long ago and out of reach.

Now my kids are growing up. WW2 ended almost 60 years ago. They’re not old enough to really understand the implications of a world war, and given how far away and out of reach WW2 must seem to today’s kids, maybe they never will.

On a more amusing note: Jeremy wanted to look at the London Underground web site. I typed in the URL — thetube.com — and hit enter. My computer’s browser sent the request, down the ADSL line to my ISP, then onto the net at large, searching for the server, halfway around the planet to other side of the world, to process the request and send the page content back. Shock horror gasp, it took about ten seconds to start coming back, time enough for Jeremy to ask “Why is it taking so long?”

No appreciation of the marvels of technology, the youth of today. No patience.

A couple of years ago I was introduced to the range of Aveda (it’s German for wanky and expensive but environmentally friendly and rather nice and luxurious) hair care products. Well, one in particular: a leave-in conditioner thing which leaves my hair looking just slightly less daggy than it did before. I dab a little in each morning.

The bottle I’ve been using is about to run out. It’s at that stage where I’ve precariously balanced it upside-down next to the bathroom sink, just to coax those last few millilitres out of it. Anticipating its drying-up any day now, on Monday I moseyed on down to the Aveda shop to get another bottle.

I stood there in the brilliant light that pervades all such establishments, looking around to find my familiar bottle. They’d changed the colour slightly, but there it was. I was sure I’d paid about $25 for the last bottle, but I couldn’t remember what size I’d got. I looked at the two sizes, 250ml for $24.95 or 500ml for $39.95.

Yes, it’s exhorbitant. It’s at least 80 times the cost of petrol. Not that dabbing petrol in my hair would do much for my hairstyle, unless I was in the mood to burn it off, Michael Jackson-style. But dammit, I’m hopeless at finding products I like, so when I find something, I stick to it. And it’s not like I have the time or inclination to seek out certified organic aloe, lavender, rosemary or any of the other myriad of ingredients and mix it up myself.

On the other hand, the bottle had last me about a year and a half, so 5 cents per day is a small price to pay to have my hair looking less daggy than necessary. Doesn’t sound so bad now. That said, the US price is well below the Australian price, which could lead one to believe we’re getting gouged on the deal.

After a few seconds comparing the two bottles, I eventually concluded I’d bought the bigger bottle. Grumbling to myself about how the price had shot up since last time, I bought it, and took it home. Inevitably I discovered that it had been the smaller bottle last time. That being the case, I doubt I’ll be gracing Aveda’s door again until well into the second half of the decade.

Recently I’ve been reading some of Jeff “Yak” Minter’s nostalgic look back at how he got into writing computer games in the 1980s, and it’s got me thinking about those days, and how it’s shaped my life — or at least, my professional working life. It’s something I have written about briefly before, but I thought I might re-visit it in epic format. (Yes, I fully realise this might bore some people to tears.)

Early 80s

In the early 1980s, personal computers started to come onto the home market. Not the multibox PCs you see nowadays of course, and certainly not limited to the big 3 formats (Windows, Linux, Mac) that you see now. No, there were dozens of different types of computers, usually a single keyboard box, often using cassettes for storage and generally plugged into a TV. (Nowadays they’re trying to get computers off desks and into the livingroom, as a centrepiece of home entertainment, plugged into a TV again.)

I was vaguely interested in technology in primary school, but there were no computers there. I was intrigued by a passing reference to a homemade computer in one of the Mad Scientist Club books, and a diet of television scifi also sparked the imagination.

It was my friend Merlin who first got a computer. He and his dad had been into electronics for some time, and when Dick Smith started marketing a computer called the Wizzard (most appropriate, har har) they bought one. It was a video game console with a bunch of clones of well-known games on it (Donkey Kong became Police Jump), and also had a module you could plug-in to do some BASIC programming. (more…)

Dear Sabrina Harman, you shouldn’t need the Geneva Convention to know what you participated in in that Iraqi prison was wrong. All you should have needed was a modicum of intelligence and humanity.

Oh boy, are we all sick of hearing about Mary Donaldson yet?

(Hmm, should the above have gone in the news section?)

5:30pm. Freebies today: muesli bars at Parliament station. Yum. Tampons at Caulfield station. They didn’t seem too keen to hand them over to me, and I didn’t insist.

While some were at the footy on Friday night, Marita and I went to a truly excellent (new?) restaurant at Docklands — Renzo’s Bar. Utterly delicious food, and not expensive in the grand scheme of things — $61 for two, including an entree and some drinks, but no dessert or coffees because we were due at Y+J’s for a drink with Beth.

Saturday did some serious lazing before moseying around the neighbourhood looking at houses. Some nice, some not, all depressingly expensive. May have to re-evaluate my requirements if I’m to get something that doesn’t result in me being hideously in debt.

Sunday more lazing followed by an extended Mothers Day lunch at my mum’s — extended because of the length of dining, and the number of extended family members who showed up for the feed.

Then I went shopping ostensibly for birthday presents for Isaac’s ninth birthday next week, and ended up at Dick Smith splashing out on that XBox I’ve been thinking about buying. Yeah, Microsoft sell-out. My reasons for buying it:

• two of the kids’ favourite games of recent years have been the Midtown Madness series, and how else was I to let them play the new(ish) one?
• given the hardware inside it, an XBox is ridiculously cheap now
• it’s not a PS2, which is what they have at their mum’s house. I wanted something fun but different
• something to do in the Warm Room with the Good Heater on the coming cold winter days and nights
• another toy to play with

The main cost will be buying the games — better find somewhere to rent them. The next game purchase will be Midway Arcade Treasures — I can’t wait to play Joust and Gauntlet again, especially with multiple players (secretly I’m hoping to do some bonding with the kids by co-operatively kersplatting monsters in Gauntlet).

The question for me will be how many games I can find that are suitable for the kids but not childish (eg the average kids’ film adaption — I’ll be refusing to buy Cat In The Hat, given how crap I thought the movie was) and exciting without being excessively violent, or yet another version of Tetris. This seems to be a problem on all the game platforms. The whole state of video games these days is probably worth a rant at some stage.

Footy tipping… erm… oh dear, not so good. At time of writing, provided Geelong go ahead and win, I’ll only have got 4 out of 8 this week. Bah.

It must be the month of May.

Winter is coming. And I have conclusive proof.

a) Last night I was freezing my arse off in the kitchen while on a phone call, and vowed to seek out a new battery for the cordless phone, so I can make calls from the comfort of my superheated livingroom. Or from my double-doona-covered bed. Either would do nicely thanks.

b) Later about to get into aforementioned double-doona-covered bed, it was so damn cold in tbe bedroom that I got the little fan heater out from wherever it was hiding from last winter. Plugged it in, turned it on, went to brush my teeth. Came back to find it had blown a fuse, interrupting the VCR recording The Sopranos that I was going to watch later in the week. Damn. Unplugged it, flicked the circuit breaker switch, and bada bing, power back on. Time to go heater shopping I suspect. How many amps do you need to cover a 2400 watt heater, anyway?

c) I can’t say I’ve ever been a porridge person. But having heard numerous recommendations of instant porridge recently, I had already planned to buy some for myself and try it, but the Uncle Toby’s promotional people made a pre-emptive strike and handed me two sachets at the station yesterday. Tried it this morning. Very yummy. Slightly too small for a Daniel-sized breakfast, but very yummy. And hot. Gotta like that on a cold Wednesday morning.