So a few weekends we got out for a walk in Dunedin and were wandering about and realized that we didn’t feel like cooking, so we toddled off to the local fish and chip shop. On our way there we ran into a bunch of the local students out on some kind of pub crawl.

Now, a bit of background: when Canadian students go out to get drunk and it’s not halloween we just get on with it. We put on clothing to cover out nakedness and, you know, drink. Kiwi students, not content with merely getting drunk, feel the need to dress up in costumes. At least once a year, perhaps based on some bizarre ritual that I, as a Canadian know nothing about, the Scarfies get dressed up in the bizarre, offensive racial/ethnic stereotypes one can imagine.

This years lot outdid themselves. We started off, at the low end of the scale, with idiots in ponchos and sombreros and fake beards. Things progressed rapididly down hill from here. There was a nice young fellow, a future leader of NZ industry or somesuch no doubt, in a conical hat (Vietnam) with a Japanese flag t-shirt (ehm?) and yellow face on. There were other young men (because it was mostly men) in rags with bones and clubs in blackface. The topper, the absolute best, was the fellow with a black sweater, little mustache drawn on with makeup and a red armband with a swastika on it.

Moving on from there, Christine and I were out for a walk a day or so later while the lad was off on a play date. We popped into a shop that Lucas doesn’t really like, so we could a leisurely poke about. The store sold what they called “Licorice dolls” and what others would know as “gollywog” or dolls. I remember my Mom telling me she had one when she was little, about 60 or so years ago.

Discussing this with Christine we had a moment where we wondered if much of this wasn’t racism, but rather just pure ignorance/naivite/the off shoot of a largely (or at least until recently) monocultural society.

Then I thought back to the young, drunk men we saw wandering by the chip shop. Dunedin, because of the University, the Polytech and the foundation year program at the Uni, has a small but growing Arab population. Waiting for their meals were two young men speaking in arabic while, outside, were there of their friends. The drunk young men wandered past this group. The looks on the Arab men’s faces ranged from worry/fear to disgust.

So I guess my question is this, is there ever a time when blackface/racial stereotyping of this variety ISN’T racist?

If blackface is worn in a cultural setting where it has almost no baggage is it ok?

I know how I feel, but I’m wondering what others think.

So for a few months now the headphones on my iPhone have not been working properly… music comes out of them but I can’t use the line mic that was included with them. I imagined all sorts of problems, faults with the wireing, faults with the button etc etc… what I didn’t do was look it up online or drop by Vodafone (or mention it to my buddy Dean or his lovely wife Veronica,  when I was up in Wellington. You know, the couple who worked at a premium Mac retailer). 

So it finally bugged me enough to drop by the Vodafone store.. the nice man there (HI AARON!) said “oh, it’s probably lint and proceeded to pick out a huge piece from the headphone jack. He gave it to me and said “there you can go home and make a jersey”. Works like new. 

Which brings me to two questions:

1. Why is vodafone’s instore and email help so good when their telephone support is such utter complete crap? 
2. Why don’t cases for the iPhone ship with a little flap to cover the headphone jack?

NO! I don’t care if it’s the nicest boot or trailer in the entire world. I don’t care if it’s got a plasma screen, kitty concubines for her amusement, live fish prepared by a sushi chef.. I will not put my cat in your fucking trunk or trailer. No. 

Now if  you’ll excuse me I’m going to go and spend just north of $100 to get to and from the Dunedin Airport to pick up Metro. 

At some point soon I need to get a drivers license because I’m not even getting kissed when I’m being screwed.

Dear Bigot, 

When I smiled at you identifying that I was Canadian and from Dorval this was not an invitation to tell me everything that was on your mind. 

I was genuinely quite happy to meet someone who had lived in Point Claire for 20 years, seriously I was. That’s why I smiled again. Now, and this is my fault, I should have immediately broken off the conversation when I told you I was from Dorval and you said “oh, is that still there?”. Every one of my warning bells went off. 

At this point I started doing math quickly and realized that you had fled when the PQ took power. This gave me an immediate foreshadowing of what was to come. 

From this point on all of my smiling and soothing conversation was no longer genuine and was the product of years of passive aggression and my trying to contain and manage you in much the way you talk to a 5 year old who is having a tantrum. 

When you started on with your delightful story about how the Quebecois don’t really speak French and how you once saw a French person refuse to talk to a Quebecois in French because they contended that they didn’t actually speak that language my smile was to hide my hatred of both you and myself. My hatred of you should be self explanatory, but I was hating myself for smiling and for not telling you off. 

What I would have liked to have said was “oh yes, when the colonizer comes along and prattles about how his or her language should be spoken it’s always funny. Because nothing is better than condescending bullshit. Hey, how about those Australians and how they think all of you here in NZ speak like stupid, backwards bumpkins? Isn’t that a hoot?”

When you transitioned onwards to your rant about bill 101, which you clearly don’t understand and never will, my smile was now the smile you reserve for the mentally infirm. At this point I was actually enjoying myself again, because all my hatred had evaporated and I now pitied you, in a sort of “oh look, she’s actually pieing herself. Over and over and over. How sad and funny.”

Now, I don’t know if you noticed, but I actually had the spine to turn off the conversation when you moved on to “So, are all the Muslims there still?” Because, honestly, I had more foreshadowing going on, and I just wasn’t able to figure out how we were going to wind up in a good place with this conversational gambit. So yes, there are muslims, and yes many of them came because they came from places where French was the second language. 

But most of them came for another reason. Because idiots like you are out numbered by people who don’t have their heads in their butts. 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and live with my shame at not actually engaging you about yoru stupid. I suppose this shame will fade. Sadly your dumb will not. 

Good day.

So the saying goes: What has been seen cannot be unseen. 

Living in Dunedin at this time of year (orientation week) provides clear proof of the truth in this saying. 

Highlights of Monday were:

1. Watching a young man puke from chugging beer/wine/some kind of swamp booze from a mylar bag. At 9:35. AM.
2. Walking home with Christine and Lucas and having what must have been the ugliest pair of breasts known to all mankind shaken at me from an upstairs window. Money quote “Oh shit, there’s a kid” Yes there is you fucking prat, and thank god I’m large and blocked his view or I’d be coming up to take all your shit to pay for the therapy. 
3. Going down into town later that evening and watching a young man dressed as some sort of mummy (underwear and saranwrap) flashing passing cars in what he seemed to believe was a sexy manner. A thought, the two cute girls you were talking to? The were laughing at you. Not with you. Assuming you remember meeting them, they will pretend that they have never met you. I promise you this. 

Otago University students seem to like dressing up (perhaps this is a NZ thing, but I can only speak to Otago) and then getting drunk. This makes for amusing moments… drunk penguins, drunk elves, drunk half-naked people, drunk flappers, drunk people who clearly created their costumes whilst drunk… the permutations go on and on… 

Tuesday’s fun ended with the annual toga party parade. In years past this was, apparently, a mostly peaceable event with happy drunken students going down the main street to other events. It has been billed to students as a sort of welcome to the city version to the graduation parades that the University holds down the same street when they are finished their degrees. 

This year however students got sent to the marshaling point an hour early and the shit hit the fan. Actually the shit hit them. 

People (older students/locals/random people beamed down from spaceships) were lying in wait for them. With puke. And shit. And eggs. And beer bottles. And (in one case) a frozen orange. And garbage. And WheatBix in liquids (one doesn’t really want to think what liquid). And then they threw them at the marching students. 

Now, let’s leave aside for a moment that fact that there are no marches to protest the living conditions of the average undergrad here in Dunedin, and move on to the simple facts. No matter who it was that was throwing stuff, no matter who it was that wound up breaking some shop windows, no matter who it was that caused all this stuff to be flung around George Street, there are two words to describe what happened: riot and assault. 

Now, in the media here there is a lot of hand wringing going on: it’s not all the students (see comments here), we have to wait and see, let’s not be hasty, kick them out (the Otago Daily Times editorial from this morning) etc etc.

What I don’t understand is how is there even a discussion going on? Let the police do their job. Throwing things at other people, causing people to get hurt (reports of cuts to hands, feet and faces, one report of a serious injury to tendons, bad bruising from the afore mentioned frozen orange), and causing property damage are all crimes of one kind or another. They are not just “students being students”. It’s not something that you can write off as “sowing their wild oats”. It’s stupidity, and as long as the University and the City don’t crack down on it people will continue to think that this sort of behavior is acceptable.

… happened to me the other day as I was leaving to go and pick Lucas up from the daycare.

This late 20’s guy came up to me at the door and said “Are you the owner of this house?”

I was prepared for “yes I am, but seriously I don’t want your cleaning service/painting service whatever”. But he surprised me, he said “I’m here to applogize and to try and make amends. It was my birthday last night and I got drunk and then one of my buddies gave me a can of paint. Like an idiot I painted my name on your wall. I’m so very sorry, there is no excuse for my doing that.” (I’m translating here, very roughly). I was so stunned I didn’t know what to say.

Well actually, let’s be realistic here: The wall is a mess. It needs brick work (which will be done in May) and there were already some tags on the wall that I should have taken care of in the Fall. Also, and this is maybe just me, but I really can’t stand watching people squirm with embarrassment. It kills me inside. So I thanked him for his honesty, accepted his apology and sent him on his way.

Leaving me behind utterly shocked and stunned.

While I’m not a fan boy by any extent*, I love Apple products. I’ve never bought any other kind of computer, I prefer to work on them, I currently have six (in various states of repair) around our house. I like how the OS works, I like the hardware, I like the industrial design (hmm. MB I am a fan boy).

All of this to say that I have used tons of Macs, both personally and professionally. I’ve owned at least 15, I’ve worked with and done simple upgrades on just about every Mac since the LCII. So it is with this experience that I say this: The mighty mouse’s track ball? It sucks.

Oh, when it works it’s amazing. It’s wonderful. The side to side and diagonal tracking? Cool beyond all measure. The up and down? Crisp.

It’s just that it is flaky as all get out.

Look, I don’t wash my hands before I use my computer. I’ve been known to snack at my desk. This is probably bad. It breaks rules of computing. But if this were a jailable offense, we’d have to build really, really big jails.

The mechanism is located under the ball. It’s enclosed. There is no way at it. So food particles, body grease, cat hair, whatever gets in there. It gets between the ball and the mechanism. The ball stops working. Or it skids. Or it goes up by not down. Or down but not up.

Apple’s solution. Hold the mouse upside down and rub it back and forth vigorously.

What. The. Hell?

This is one time that hte design failed.

*Jobs is about as god like as any other CEO of a major company, the constant sniping at the corporate uses of the PC, while amusing, are probably off putting, plus IT’S A COMPANY PEOPLE.

So like a good lefty I’m all for cheap housing for people who have less money. I think that mixed use neighborhoods/housing (in all the senses of that term: commercial, rentals, owned, subsidized even light industrial) make for better cities and societies.

I say this all to establish my street cred, and to try and mitigate what I’m about to say.

We live next to a boarding house. Firstly, boarding houses basically function as housing for people who have almost no way to get regular housing. As such they wind up accepting sub-par housing. Way way way sub-par. One of the guys who recently moved out told me that he couldn’t open his closet during the winter, unless he wanted the out door temp to spill into his room. Secondly, there seem to be two kinds of people that live next door, working poor and, well, umm.. drunken/stoned idiots.

The former are amoung some of the best neighbors I’ve ever had. Helpful, pleasant, nice to Lucas, polite to Christine, quiet etc etc. The later? The later can all go to hell.

Between the late night guitar and fiddling, the abusive relationships (if you call the police and say that it sounds like your neighbor is beating his girlfriend, you get 6 police cars…), the abusive drunks on the front balcony…

The house was sold recently, all the working guys have pretty much moved out (one is left, but he’s going at the first of the month) and the rest should be out with in a month or so. Then the new owners are going to split it in half vertically and make to duplexes (or whats called a cottage around here).

All of this to say that I’ve never, in my whole life, been more happy about gentrification.

If you are a constant reader of this blog (hi Mike, hi Marjorie, hello random other friends who periodically drop by), you’ll remember we got a kitten about two months ago. She is adorable, she is cute, she does funny things.

She is crazy making.

She thinks attacking Elvira (our older cat) for hours on end is funny.

She climbs walls (literally), she tries to get up on the ledge of hanging mirrors, she views that the emptying of garbage cans is her duty.

The thing that really bugs me is the attacking Elvira. She hasn’t had a moments peace since she moved in, and she refuses to really attack back. She’ll knock Métro on her butt periodically, but that’s it.

It’s frustrating, because Métro is so damn cute, but there are times when I really really wish we had left well enough alone.

I bank with the Toronto Dominion, their close, they have branches all over the place and they do the things I need them to do. Most of my interaction with them is through the web or through their bank machines. I quite like the web banking experience, the UI and the speed are good. The design is a nice balance of functional and esthetically pleasing.

Now, over the years the TD “Green Machine” (as they call their ATM service/machines) has gone through various incarnations, as has it’s UI. In many ways, walking into a TD branch to use the ATM was a bit of a crap shoot, you never knew what machine or UI you were going to get, nor which Recently though they’ve started the process of consolidation to one standard machine and UI.

On their site they have a whole section on it, how it’s better! faster! more! WOW! etc.

Now, me, I hate it. Hate is usually a pretty strong word for some design, but it offends me at a near cellular level.

It used to be the process was: Insert card, choose language on some machines [button 1], enter pin [4 buttons], choose what you want to do [1 button], choose account [1 button] and then enter amount [# of buttons dependent on how much you need/have], then ok.

So a max of 10 - 12 buttons.

Now it’s: insert card, the language comes up from your account [-1], enter pin[4], choose what you want to do [1], choose account [1] and, if you’re depositing, limber up your fingers for a fun filled fiesta of button pushing [10].

I’m not sure it’s actually 10, but it feels like it. You input the amount of the first item (because there is now a list) you are depositing and, if you’re done you enter ok (if you have more you enter more), both of these represent a button push, then you are asked if you meant it. Then you are asked if you are ready. Then ou are asked if your brain is still functioning.. then you are asked if you want a reciept and then you are asked if you’re done….

The thing that really bugs me, besides the obvious extra button pushing is the long pauses that happen between and after each choice. For someone who works on a computer every day I interpret this pause as either a) crap hardware or b) the machine is about to crash. I’m going to guess that it’s meant as a time to reflect on your choices or it’s meant to not make you feel rushed or some BS. For me it offers me a chance to take deep breaths. So that I don’t assault the machine.

I wondered if the whole idea was to make it easier for older/less geeky users to get their money etc. So I asked my Dad what he thought. This is a man who, rather than memorizing how to save Word docs with a new name memorizes what each Untitled document is. This is a man who periodically boots into DOS to run Lotus 123. This is, in other words, the über anti-geek.

So, being very careful not to offend him and suggest that he is anything less than youthful, I asked him how he liked the new machines. It turns out, based on what I extracted from the profanity laced response he gave, that he hates them as much as I do.

So who are they for?

An aside, I find it interesting that Diebold, the manufacture of this machine, can make an annoyingly idiot proof ATM, but can’t seem to make a decent voting system.