Chris Ware On This American Life

I don't know too many contemporary comic artists but I do know Chris Ware.

From his New Yorker covers to his Quimby the Mouse books, I've loved everything I've seen him do.

Here he is animating a story on the television version of the wonderful, This American Life.

Okay, the video box is a little wide for the column but I reckon it plays better that way.

1,2,3,4,5,67,89,10,11,12

Who doesn't LOVE this?

Performed by The Pointer Sisters and first aired on Sesame Street in 1976.

Congrats to Obama and America

I'd Give One Of Me Balls To...

Often while listening to music I close my eyes and imagine if it was me singing said song to a fervently attentive audience at The Continental (now a footballers' haunt).

I'd give one of me balls to skat like Kurt Elling, tap dance like the Nicholas brothers, finger pick like Matt Walker, croon like Tom Waits or play and sing Big Star's Watch the Sunrise live.

Australian Idol contestant, Wes Carr always wanted to Michael Jackson dance on national TV. I mean, who doesn't?

Last Sunday his dream came true.

And it was fricken fantastic.

To All Them Peoples Having Babies Out There

Dopeness by genius hip hop people, Plastic Little.

The Feel Good Hit Of The Summer

I've watched this ten times today.

I love Tippa Irie's Reggie Hollis from The Bill accent.

And his silly little dance...

Wow.

My New Food Blog Thingy

Here's a taster from my new recipes, food, drink and celebrity chef watching blog, Om Nom Nom Nom Nom.


When killjoy nutritionist Rosemary Stanton saw me about to tuck into this fried scallop stuffed hamburger with the lot, she tried to punch me in the man breast. Because her punching bones weren't ready for action after the transplant with the punching bones of a retired fighting cock, Rosemary's attack was hilarious.

Humiliated, she floated away.

Like a ghost.

In the frenzy some fat dripped out of the burger, burning a hole into my trousers.

From the Coach's Desk

This year I coached the wonderful Melbourne Magpies who played in the Reclink (Choir of Hard Knocks people), football league for disadvantaged footballers.

We only lost the B Grade Grand Final by a couple kicks in the last minutes against Sacred Heart Mission who had beaten us earlier in the year by 20 goals.

Here's my coach's report which appeared in this year's Grand Final footy record.

From a small group of strangers out for a kick on a Wednesday, we're now a team of disciplined, tightly loyal mates ready to do anything for each other on the footy field. We knew we had something when from the first match we came within a kick of beating one of the skillful teams in the completion. From that point we knew we were onto something special.

From Ash running down the wing, kicking it long to a Jordan lead, to Boonie at the bottom of every pack, Melbourne's Magpies have everything you'd want to watch in a footy team.

Every team member has made incredible progress this year: Hukka's courage under the pump; Jade's freakish tenacity against blokes three times his size and age; Bugsy's persistence even when we're down many goals; Random's cocky flair; Josh yelling "Ronaldino!" whenever he kicks it off the ground; Shrek and Ray always willing to take the grab when under extreme pressure; the Liddy brothers kicking dozens of goals between them; Paul Perry's freakish ability to pick himself up after a huge bump; old stager, Bill showing the kids what guts on the footy field's all about and the other old bloke, Paul showing the way with his reliable kicking; Brad, with his uncanny game sense to find himself free up forward; Dale, an old fashioned, quiet but tough backman; JK the gentle giant in ruck; Jerny's dangerously hard training ethic; Harley, a footballing freak for someone so new to the game

Not only have our players individually faced huge obstacles to get on the ground each week, so too has our footy club in getting everything together to field a competitive and much importantly a fun gameday for all – a testament to the fine values of the Reclink Football League.

None of this would have been possible without Fran, Ramez, Nicola and staff at Living Room, Hutchy and John (all handy on the footy field), at Brunswick Youth Services, Tim at St Marks Community Centre, St Marys House of Welcome, The Collingwood Football Club and Brian at the VAFA Umpiring Association and much support from many other friends, families and volunteers who've helped along the way.

Hot pies!

I must again thank my great mate, Nicola for urging me to have a shot at this incredible gig.

Vale Paul Newman

The Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head scene from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Five of the most gorgeous minutes ever filmed.

Sad day.

Ripper bloke.

This Woman Could Be The Next Vice President

No, really.

Katie Couric is gobsmacked.

And then she tries foriegn policy...


Please tell me this isn't real.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Toast Time

Ladies and gentlemen, please charge your glasses...

Quarterbrain's first question. "Tell us about your childhood."

I'm bored by the interview already. Hold on, there's a story about some teammates who died on the field. Thanks Quarterbrain. Bring back the trauma. He's sad now.

Gary Ablett looks a bit miffed. Poor bastard. Adam Cooney is sorta funny. He's thirsty. "I need this," while taking a skull of champers. Then more some talk about his kid and his kinda hot fiancee, Hailey. Bastard stole my idea of proposing marriage with a Burger Ring. That was so my idea. Next we'll hear that The Breadmakers will be playing at their wedding. He hasn't rang his nanna for a couple weeks. Innat nice. Richo thought it was funny too. Another poor bastard.

But I've seen Adam Cooney play and he's a fricken good player. Lot of time for him and his club, Footscray. No matter what you throw at Adam Cooney, you can't bring him to the ground. Whole bucks parties have tried to tip him over like a cow late at night and they can't even get close. One of the toughest, more honest players out there.

A worthy winner.

But it would have been better if Richo got it.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Almost There Now

Seven hours in and only three rounds to go. Black on 23, four ahead of Richo.

Round 19 and Steven Milne's face puffs up like one of those fish and our Prime Minister claps like a simpleton. Brent Harvey is on 17 now. Cooney on 21! Black no votes. They played against each other. Ableeeettt on 22! He's back. He might get it. I'm exciterated.

RICHO ON 22 VOTES!! GO RICHO!!!

Round 21. This is so excitement. Bartel got 37 touches so he will steal from Ablett. Here goes..... Pendles three votes. Next... Geelong C Ling one vote. J Selwood 2 votes. North Melbourne D Hale 3 votes!! Juddy three against Black. GO RICHO!!! No votes. It's gointg to the last . Cooney in the lead 24 votes!! Richo needs a best on ground.

Round 22. I reckon Cooney has it. Swan hasn't won it. Juddy hasn't won it. Harvey hasn't won it. Geelong... S Jonson 1 vote. J Bartel 2 votes. C Ling 3 votes! Ablett hasn't won it. Black hasn't won it!!! Go RIcho!!! Here it goes!!! NOOOOEEEESSSSS!!!!

ADAM COONEY THE WINNER OF THE 2008 BROWNLOW MEDAL!!!

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Round 17 or Something

Richo could win this. No seriously.

Round 18: Didak and Shaw out for the rest of the season. A tragedy. I love Alan like a brother.

Pavlich creeping up at 17. Buddy at 17. Richo has left his table. He should have got votes that game against Geelong.

Round 19 and we killed St Kilda dead. I can't remember who played well that game. I was too sad about Alan. Harry and Leon get votes. Yay Harry! Goodes could get the points to win but he was suspended. Geelong stealing votes from each other. Richo gets no votes. Judd moves to 13 votes. Brent Harvey is at 14.

I tells ya. Favorites don't come near winning Brownlows. No matter who wins this, there's gonna be a LOT of whingeing tomorrow.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Back to the Votes

All the showbag contents have been eaten and I'm getting edgy. Round 15 montage and we won't see votes from Ablett for a few weeks. Pendles gets his 4th vote. That's what happens if you're not prepared to run hard and make hard decisions etc. Geelong players stealing votes from each other. Simon Black clear leader by four. He will win.

Round 16. None of the favorites near it. No votes for the Pies this round. Brent Harvey's wife shouldn't sit like that. Judd gets his 10th vote. RICHO IS ON 19! Four behind Black.

Urgent report from Melissa at the bogue fashions desk.

FASHION FAUX PAS ALERT!!! Sandra Sulley is wearing the dress Shelly Craft wore to the Logies this year. AARRGGGHHH!!!

Sandra. That is a disgrace.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Breather Time

The Robert Harvey tribute has hit its ninth hour. There's a guy playing sax and Kate Ceberano singing Oh When The Saints. Also The Bloods coach (my other team and the team Harvey will play for next year with any luck), Jamie Shanahan is there with a lot of old blokes to welcome him on stage for what will be the most enduring trial of his career... an interview with Steve Quarterbrain.

At last a Bnnings ad! What are we going to do this weekend Bunnings bogan staff member guy? Put up some lattice! Think about grasses. Think about tomatos. Thanks Mr Bunnings Bogan Staff Member Guy!

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Montage 87

Michael Voss is giving a speech about Robert Harvey so click here for a tribute to everybody's favorite number 35.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights Round 13 and Stuff

Can I just have half an hour in a locked room with that channel ten voiceover guy? You know the one. He opens the coverage with something like, "Two gladiatorial curmudgeons preside over 46 finely crafted manbeasts in an epic contest rivaling that of the famous battle between giant immortal Typhon and the black fearful eyed Echidne blah blah blah."

I want to kill him.

Until he is dead.

Round 13 and Judd doesn't get a vote. Heath Shaw deservedly gets two votes in our loss to Footscray. Richo doesn't get a vote. Demetrio is starting to pause his reading for drama. Ablett gets another three.

Round 14 and we killed Sydney in much the same way I want to kill the voiceover guy. Brent Harvey gets his 7th vote. Dane Swan moves to 10 with a best on ground and Judd gets nothin'. Bartel gets his first best on ground and is 14 off the lead.

Round 15 is the round where Fevolutino does his Licca impersonation and hugs all the oppostion. Judd gets nothing. Medhurst is on 12 votes. Handy. He and his girly are a striking lookin' couple. Demetrio is pausing bigtime now.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Halfway There

Best Brownlow get-up ever.

Round ten. Dane Swan gets three votes, so does Cooney and Black. Black in the lead.

Round 11 and Judd should get the votes and so should Ablett. Ablett does but so does Black. He might win this. Judd only gets two votes and is 13 off the lead. Tarkyn Lockyer gets a best on ground. Huh? How did that happen?

Round 12. We're racing through so we can have another stirring montage. Fevolution gets the two votes in their second win over us. Richo gets another three. Cooney is only one behind Black. Ablett won't win.

Everyone is shocked. Black already has 20 votes at a little over the halfway mark.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Filler Time

I'll leave the caption to youse. Click the comment thingy down there.... See more here.

Montage eight. Something about how the game belongs to all of us. Just as I spew, Luke Darcy decides to read a speech about an old bloke who works for Footscray as their property steward, Eddie Walsh. And now for a thing about an old lady who's been working for the Cobden Footy Club for the last 873 years, all to a Bruce Springspreen backing track. I might cry now. She's awesome. She's cooked over 30,000 meals and never missed a training session. Every moment of her life she works for the footy club. "If you haven't got a footy club you don't have a town." Marie Obourne. Greatest old lady ever.

Next volunteer, David Mattock Jones of the Bardoo Island footy club. Junior coach ignores the scoreboard and every little kid he coaches plays like Michael Long but with heaps more talent.

But all the tears wasted when Toyota put their messy mitts all over it and give both of them a wad of cash.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Round 7-9

Round seven highlights include Wannameari sic kicking goals, Juddy getting hit at West Coast and Richmond losing in a tight one. Awesome.

Richo gets two votes and he's in the lead with 12! Adam Cooney looks thrilled to be there. Mad Monday has been very long today it looks.

Round eight highlights inclde Cance Bateman dacking an opposition player. Scallywag.

Ablett has only eight votes and so far Essendon's Tape Pears has none.

Round nine and Collingwood beat Geelong by 839405 points. That's all. Ablett and Bartel get negative votes for their hopeless efforts on the night. ALAN DIDAK though, THREE VOTES. Obviously the best player in the world.

Richo, Cooney and Sewell equal leaders on 13 votes.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Round 5 and 6

I just got a text message with the incorrect claim that Adrian Anderson is my boyfriend.

Back from a break and we see an interview with Gary Ablett Jr when he was 14. Neil Cordy asks a stumper and gets:

"Payin' out my old man. I just ignore them and get on with the game."

Best kid ever.

Round 5 footage and we see the poos and wees ridiculous white and brown bird away strip.

Medhurst gets three votes twice in a row. Woo hoo! He's gonna win this in a canter.

Richo gets his first two votes in round 6 but it's the AFL's most tedious player, Simon Black in the lead with 11 votes.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: Round 3

Round three and we get some greaat footage of Chance Bateman playing with his wedding tackle and Dale Thomas kicking yet another freak goal.

Demetrio is reading too farken fast. The world is yelling SLOW THE FARK DOWN!!

Heath Shaw gets three votes.

Round four and we get Barry Hall's punch on Staker. One of the greatest moments of 2008. This is also the first the Pies' losses to the dark side.

Brent Harvey's wife's red split down the middle get up is hilarious.

The Brownlow: Television and Football's Night of Nights: In The Beginning

Television’s night of nights is kicked off by Kate Ceberano flogging a dead horse, trying oh so hard to let me entertain you come on come on come on. Sad. But nobody cares. Hosted by Steve Quarterbrain. Nobody likes this guy. Nobody.

Why does the Armourgard guard have to wear his or her army uniform? Surely the result is leaked just like every other year.

Now Demetrio starts this officially convened AFL meeting we like to call television’s night of nights.

Round 1 Dane Swan gets the medal's first vote. I'm already excited.

Round 2. Demetrio is confused as fuck. He has to do round 2. Nobody knows what the fuck's going on. Hold on. We're doing round 1 again?

I'm confused.

Or did he start with round 2?

My head just exploded. I just gotta get to the kitchen and glue it back together.

Write Only In Red Pen For A Whole Day, Once A Month

For one day in the month write entirely in red pen.

It's so final and it freaks boring bozos well out.

Writing in red is a simple act of insolence and fucked up defiance.

The Marquis de Sade wrote all the unhygenic sex scenes in his 100 Days of Sodom in red.

Miles Davis wrote all the "motherfuckens" in his autobiography in red.

Terrance Trent Darby (formally of INXS), wrote most of his letters to The Guardian in red.

George Lucas filled out the cheques to pay for several hundred traffic fines during the making of Star Wars 2 Electric Boogaloo in red.

Bob Dylan wrote the lyrics to his much adored Infidels record in red.

Go red tomorrow.

You'll love it.

I Is Back

It’s been four months since the last posting. The Nightwatchman speaks to Glenn Peters to find out why.

First question, the obvious. Why? Where have you been all this time?
Good question Nighty. I picked up two gigs and they took all my time. Each day when I got home from work, I shot half a gram of Amway mixed with Jim Beam and battery acid into my eyeballs and went straight to sleep until the next day. Oh, and I played lots of scrabs on Facebook. Lots.

What sort of gigs?
I worked as an Amway salesman.

Yeah, good and all but don’t you think that you leaving regular readers is a bit of a pisstake?
No.

Are you sorry to regular readers?
What, both of them? No.

Rumors are that you are going to do some sort of snazzy Nightwatchman relaunch. And it might take place in a bar or something.
Sounds like one of those SEN sports radio rumors. Have you been talking to Toby Shitbeak?

So, should they sack Alan Didak?
Of course not. Alan Didak is the greatest human ever.

For The Sake Of The Big V

This will never ever happen again.

Now if you'll excuse me I need to drop off my poor old scarf to the dry cleaners.

Awww....

That's Not A Scrabble Board. THIS Is A Scrabble Board.

My love of Scrabble has nothing on the fine people on the tournament Scrabble circuit.

And with all obsessives, tournament scrabs players need to play on their own, homemade or custom-made scrabble boards. A standard cardboard board from the shop without lazy Susan is INCORRECT.

Here's a bunch from last Sunday's Box Hill open tournament.


A standard tournament board setup.


My final game of the day with old school analogue timer.

I lost by over 100 points.


Homemade. Mounted onto red perspex.

Hot.


Old board mounted onto marble with engraved bronze tile distribution guides.


Another old board mounted onto clear perspex with wacky words letrasetted on the side. I forgot what it says.


Wood and dinosaurs!


The masterpiece.


Homemade with tile distribution and bronze badges for every major tournament the player has won.


Pro-made. Notice the name, Wordgame. I think I once saw the boxes these originally came in. No reference to scrabs, just photos of overexcited kids yelling something in Thai, most likely , "Wordgame, Speeling Fun for the whole family!"

Where can you buy some of the pro-made the custom made boards? It's a secret. If I told you, the nice scrabble ladies would gouge my eyes out with a rusted fork.

But I'll give you a clue. Next time you play at a world sanctioned tournament in South East Asia, you might meet someone who's cousin knows someone who could sort you out.

At Last The Tooth Is Out

After six weeks of toothache the angry fucker came out today.

Dental hospital. I was quite scared. It was like the specialist, a new specialist, not the guy I had booked in, didn't know what was going on to start with. He asked if I had come in as an emergency that day and I wasn't convinced he had a proper look at the x-rays. So I told him exactly what we were there for. He looked impressed at my handle on dental jargon. Sounded Russian but as I left I saw he was reading Arabic.

He's pulling at my tooth like a crazy bastard and calls the nurse by name. She's Russian sounding too. And her name. NATASHA. Yep, Boris and Natasha were clawing away at the back of my jaw with an urgency that would leave The Anthill Mob for dead.

At one point Boris was carving away at the broken tooth and makes the call, “Itz like I'm grating at your head, izn't it.” I mean, earlier in the the extraction I was expecting him to say, “Iz it safe? Iz it safe?” as he reached into my mouth with the biggest fuck off needle I've ever seen. Dustin Hoffman I aint.

Here's the best bit. Because the molar was already broken in a few places, looking more like a castle that even the head of the British National Trust would say, "Cor fuckin blimey, that castle's fucked, build another fucking Sainsburys on the site," at, the dentist had to cut into the gum to get the bastard out.

No, worse.

He had to CUT INTO THE NASAL CAVITY.

And get this. After much cutting and chipping he told Natasha to hold my nose closed. Then he asks me to blow hard. YES, HE WAS LOOKING FOR BUBBLES in case he cut through too much into the nasal cavity. Yes, just like you do when looking for a puncture on a bike tube. When he didn't see bubbles, he sounded relieved. I love a pessimist with a knife.

Was I assured of the absence of bubbles? Only in hindsight because for the whole time I was thinking of everything but my mouth's shoddy excavation.

Some of the many things I thought about while Boris and Natasha worked away at pulling the old and infected tooth from my gob.

Is it about time to bring Simon Prestigiacomo back into Collingwood's backline? We sure do miss James Clement.

Which game/sport has the most rules of etiquette? Golf, scrabble, or poker?

For someone who regards himself closest in politics to that of an anarchist, why am I attracted to games with complex rules of etiquette?

Let's sing Big Star's Number One Record in my mind, starting at track one.

What is it with my mates?

Why is it every week some football pundit wants to make a rule change? Why can't they leave it be?

For future reference, is the excellent, four hour parking spot I got near the Dental Hospital too far from Lygon Street?
At least it's out now.

I'm Back

And nothing, nothing on Youtube is cuter than this.


Well, maybe this.

At Least I Have An S

Bunch of arse.

I Guess That's Why They Call It The Day Before Your Birthday Blues

It's my birthday tomorrow.

I turn 35.

This is what gets me. It's all supposed to happen tomorrow. I get all the nice phone calls from mates, have a nice lunch, the extended family come over and eat lots of chips, the cake gets cut and wahey, lovely day (apparently).

But it's really today that shits me.

The dread of turning another year and fuck all to show for it. I should be getting all the nice calls now because right now it feels like midway through the third quarter and Carlton's up by 11 goals. Mates have left the ground to console themselves into the sagging breasts at the Cricketers' Arms but because I'm a mindless stoic I force myself to stick around to hear that horribly catchy song.

Let's look at my lot and line it up against Deborah Mailman's character from Secret Life Of Us and her happy life trifecta of good job, good house and good lovin' (which, I'm sure, was paraphrased from the thoughts of a dead Greek).


I regret to inform the other applicant was deemed more suited for the advertised position

Good Job
Not even close. Well, wrong. VERY FRICKEN close. I shit you not but in the past six months since the knee reconstruction I have been "down to the last two" in not one, not two or even three interviews but EIGHT, YES EIGHT, THE LAST FUCKING EIGHT great full time jobs I've interviewed for. No really, down to the last fucking two applicants in all of them.

"Down to the last two" shit's wearing me down folks.

If it wasn't for the odd freelance writing gig popping outta nowhere I'd be insane and broke.


Our house in the middle of the street, yesterday.

Good House
You often read about people in their 30s living with their parents. I'm one of them. Great. No amount of Foxtel, cable internet or daily walks in one of Melbourne's leafier suburbs can make up the constant fear that lazy journalists are writing tired articles about you.


!?

Good Lovin'
Yeah, right. As if.

So when I should be getting ready to hum You Say It's Your Birthday, It's My Birthday Too, Yeah for the next twenty four hours, I can only really hear one song....

Bup badup badup,
Bup badup badup badup badup badup,
Here come the navy blues,
The old dark navy blues.

And it's awful.

More Reasons To Be Cheerful: Melbourne Suburbs Edition

Meddling kids run amok in Oakleigh.


My record smallest recorded flathead catch on lure at my secret rock fishing spot in Carrum.


Beth Ditto's favorite nut shop, again in Oakleigh.


A kitten named Billie watching The Bill in Alphington.


An older lady preparing for a family lunch at the Dandenong Market.


Richmond's most generously stocked video emporium.

London's Burning: An Exclusive Report

Camden Market burns, yesterday

The Nightwatchman's UK correspondent, Matty Boy Gregory reports:

London is under attack. As a pal, it felt only fair I let you know; if for nothing else just so you can make Melbourne aware.

We both know that sometimes hyperbole can seep out as a necessary by-product of factual reporting. Well thankfully on this occasion this hasn't been a problem. Most of London is currently in flames, consumed by what can only be described as an urban forest fire.

For national security it is just being reported as a fire in a predominantly empty market area: unfortunately the market area is Camden. This is the favoured living and sociallising area of the Media, so we do not know how long we can keep up this necessary rouse.

All I ask is that you monitor any live feed you can, and if by some miracle, such as living 300 miles away, we manage to make it through the night, you let them know I cared.

Which reminds me of my favorite old insurance jokes...

Hung: So sorry hear your restaurant burn down last night.

Wang: No, Hung! That tomorrow night!

Stuff You America And Your Exciting Super Bowl Finish, Australia Does Sporting Drama Best

You won't see a more gripping ending to this one at the inaugural World Handball Championships.


Just as Allan Jeans, Tom Hafey and Peter MacKenna are about to stage an all out barney over Barney's hit on Neville Bruns behind play, Jack Dyer puts all grudges into perspective with a well timed Bertocchi Hams presentation.


You won't catch Laurence O'Toole!

Celebrate World Of Sport here.

Peter Russell Clarke's Underappreciated Genius

One of the original celebrity chefs from the 1980's and the only person I can accurately impersonate.

So much to love about this bloopers reel. I especially love it when he looks down at his spag bog describing it as "a bit shithouse".

Something weird is happening in Youtubeland. Click here to see the video.


Bonus! Here's The Cartoon Connection's Agro's infamous blooper reel.

For Those Who Thought They've Seen Everything

At least it didn't surprise me.

I Suck AND Blow At Ding Dong Tomorrow

This text message conversation took place late last night.

Jack: How's the mouth organ practice going?

Me: To avoid confusion with activities popular with members of your community I prefer to call it a harmonica.

Yes, here's your chance to see me suck and blow on harmonica on stage with the wonderful power popsters, Ben Birchall & The Corrections at Ding Dong tomorrow night.

Note: The Nightwatchman playing at The Tote on January 29 is an impostor.

Built To Spill: Gig O' The Year So Far, That Is Until Rufus Plays Next Month

Can't believe I was there to see this at a half full East Brunswick Club.

Way up the front.

The most perfect sound imaginable.

And after the show, me and a mate ate kebabs with the band.


I had as much fun as these kids had.

Come to think of it the guy in the aqua coloured shirt is pulling off dance moves reminiscent of the new ones I have in development.