Houseboat of Equine Influenza

Apart from the group of us converging on an unsuspecting South Australian Riverland and bringing with us a myriad of social conditions and infection from the four corners of this great brown land (three of those being the attic of wonders), which will inevitably morph into super strains of spasticity, there is something I'm looking forward to much more.


I get the chance to sit down with nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nothing to do, but sit and talk. I cannot wait, amigos, to just talk shit while the banks of the Murray drift lazily by.

Stupid Ads, make more sense.

All right people, enough of the bitchiness. We all know Ricardo can’t enjoy an intellectual blog because he has an arts degree, and if RE was anymore verbose he would literally be spewing words out of all of his orifices. But I really don’t care about that. I have a bone to pick, and I will pick it so clean it will be whiter than Tim’s arse on that fateful day at Bate’s House, when the term ‘beaming white’ was coined.

And let me admit, that this is purely inspired by a message from Tim about Radio Rentals and I am sorry if he was going to blog it, and now can not due to my poaching his topic. Sorry like a fox!!!

Why in God’s name do so many adverts not make a scrap of sense, at all? Why would you pay thousands or even hundreds of thousands of dollars to an ad agency when my three year old daughter (if I had one, but I’d probably have to get some first…) could come up with things that made more sense? Appealing to the lowest common denominator? I mean how low can you go?

First to Tim’s very good point. Why would you want to shop anywhere else? I’ll tell you why, because you are shopping for something which they do not stock, never have stocked, and would never dream of stocking. Next time you’re in radio rentals, go up to the counter and ask for a bag of dog food. Bet you they don’t have it. Proceed to shout in their face ‘That’s why I want to shop somewhere else, ya Dickhead’. On top of that they are probably the worst place, in the whole entire world to shop for consumer electronics. Except perhaps the Panaphonics and Sorny shop in the Simpsons.

And what about BP with that water, people playing in water, sun going down over the ocean, fading into BP symbol ad.. Oil is a dirty, grimy, primary industry; it is not clean and nice like the ad is. Also BP rips off almost everybody in the world for as much as they possibly can. Having an ad that looks nice is not going to change that, or make me buy petrol from there. I buy petrol where it’s cheapest, full stop. Unless the store happened to be owned by RE. Then I would buy it from anywhere else but there, no matter the price.

Finally, any bank ad that makes out that the bank is an essential part of our life, and is like the best friend, always there for you when you need it, ready to lend a helping hand or 10 grand. I’ve got news for you too banks, you are a business institution. I therefore use which of you makes me the best deal, not which of you has ads that make me feel more special. When did you treat me like a friend? A friend doesn’t charge $30 for an overdrawn account. Otherwise Worthley would owe me 40 grand and I would already own a house.

So basically, you can all go to hell. Be funny ads, or be forthright, the Cunno’s ads were/are brilliant because they look like exactly what they are; a dodgy shop selling cheap shit, with a dodgy, cheap ad. Here here.

"I'd Love For You To Share This Exercise With Me."- The moff, 23rd July, 2006

Some 16 odd months ago I recieved an email from a very excited man. It was, of course, the moff. The email gave me an invitation to blog with him instead of sending our rants to each other in email form. I guess, like all things in life, numbers grew and ideas for the direction of the blog became more diverse. But where the blog is now and where it once was are so far apart that sometimes when i load up the blog site, i double check to make sure i have the right site. (yes, even when it was deep in the shitter needing to be rescued by funkmaster D)

Perhaps it is fitting that this debate about the future of the blog comes at a time when our fine country takes on a new leader. Perhaps it is time for a directional change on the blog. maybe the fresh thoughts are what it needs. As the Peter Costello of the blog i can see that the deeep seeded roots of the blog-the passion, the anger, the annoyance, the vibe- all of this things, they're simply not there in the form that they once were. Maybe i'm just too traditional and don't like to see change.

Will Rudd do a good job? I don't know. would Howard have continued to do a good job? I don't know. Will this new spin on the blog be as entertaining? I don't know. Do i like the direction that this new blood is taking the blog? No, i dont. But i am only one voice.

I ask myself, what does this mean for the blog? I don't know-perhaps it will be the best thing that ever happened to it. Having said that, i wonder how i will cope with it. Is it, in its proposed new form, still the problematique blogsite? in name, i suppose, yes. In spirit, i dare say no.

i guess i will always check in on the blog that has given me so much enjoyment and so many memories. driving home from work at ungodly hours with a cheeky grin, formulating a blog in my head, writing it, searching for a picture, then waiting while people slowly discovered its presence. This of course, is only matched by the childlike enthusiasm that occured when i saw a new blog up. Alas, everything has changed. I can't turn my back on something i helped to bring alive- but gone are the days of undeniable enthusiasm and the lusty gusto that once reigned supreme. Now, i can only really see it getting a casual glance every now and then.

Apart from these rambling thoughts, I don't really have any answers to the direction of the blog, just numbness and a sadness that something once so great has passed us by.

So, i sign this post off with an adaption of a great moment in fear and loathing in lost vegas.

"Strange memories of that nervous night in Adelaide when the moff first mentioned the blog. Has it been 12 months? 18? It seems like a lifetime, the kind of peak that never comes again. http://www.problematique.blogspot.com/ in 2006 was a very special time and place to be a part of. But no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch the sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.

There was madness in any direction, at any hour on the blog. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning, in our own little rant form.

And that, I think, was the handle- - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil and mundane. Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than 2 years later, you can go up a steep hill in South Australia and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark- that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."

Now there is nothing left but to close our eyes and listen with a deep, grieving sadness as the last post lovingly fades out.

Politics and Shit

I agree about shit boring blogs. I only wish there was more I could do with my own very specific type of prose that I could sometimes be more entertaining. But that's the question - how much of an effect does the topic itself have on the boringness of the blog? The way some of us have approached some of my previous work it sounded like it was the topic alone which made it boring (although in fairness some of the blame should be on my traditional dissertation style).

The nature of the blog is for us to simply express ourselves. And this, I think, outweighs any over-riding concerns over the general ambience of the blog.



I think politics definitely has a place on the blog because, hey, the further we get into our lives the more involved with and affected by policy and politics we are. I'm definitely finding that over here in an industry which has a heavy involvement with politics.

The other thing I see in the blog as an opportunity is the fact that we have created an absolutely unfettered creative outlet in a semi-formal configuration by which to exchange ideas and creative stimuli. In this environment, I find myself much more able to stretch my compositional and critical writing legs.

If everyone is scared of posting even subtly intellectual blogs then we end up with a baseless, superficial reflection of ourselves. We are deeper, more empathetic and intelligent people than this blog reflects and I for one want to hear more about the complex, meaningful issues in my friends’ lives.

So why should any one of us be in any position to express their opinion as a caution to anyone else who posts a blog which the first person finds disinteresting? They shouldn’t.

But how will we control it and stop it from becoming a waste of space, replete of shit?

Simple. When any post has attached to it comments from the majority of bloggers articulating clear disapproval, then they can be barred from that topic. So I propose that there are no limits to the topics of blogs and that limits will be handed out by the mandate of the majority of bloggers.

Further I would like to see Moff instigate a vote on this proposal via the usual method of voting for alternatives on the blog site, a la fast food outlets. Something like:

Blog topics should be:

1. unrestricted
2. unrestricted until a majority of bloggers disapprove of that topic
3. unrestricted until a majority of bloggers disapprove of that topic for that person
4. restricted by a list of exclusions formulated by the group democratically

RE's 2007 Election Wrap

Rather than rant on for ages about the election result itself, there are actually some very interesting conclusions to draw from it, both from how and why things happened the way they did, and how things have changed for the future.

And yes, this blog will probably resemble my very controversial debut, so be warned, and take it for what you will. And guess what Ricardo, you’re tired of reading about politics? well I’m sure as fuck tired of hearing about how you or Funkmaster of Moff managed to pull through a thriller in table tennis, pro-evo or golf, so remember that before you start the, oh, here we go again.

Something about this election reminded me very much of the South Park episode where Stan’s father offers his wise words, “see, it’s always a choice between a Giant Douchebag and a Turd Sandwich”. And I'm sure there's no-ne who would argue that K Rudd is certainly a Giant Douchebag.

Funnily enough this particular episode was a parody of the 2000 election campaign in the US, in the lead up to the 2004 election, and the feeling for me is that it becomes more and more relevant as political candidates learn how to sell themselves through a vast range of media. But it also highlights, as much as we hate to admit it, the relentless Americanisation of our country.

Rudd won in an absolute demolition. And after this I was heartened to hear the wrap each leader gave the other. They do no doubt share a genuine mutual respect. There would be some very big questions being asked in Liberal party at the moment because probably a lot of the traditionalists in the camp are still confounded by this Rudd phenomena.

First he outpaced Howard every step of the campaign. While Howard would do 1 or 2, maybe 3 appearances per day, Rudd was doing 4 or 5. And what has impressed me most of all is that Sunday, he began to group with his party to get their mandate in order, and Monday he was straight out in schools rolling out step 1: education. And all while the votes are still being counted.

Also, it will be very interesting to see how Labour handles big business. It’s no secret that the WA liberals are by far and away the most healthily funded. And there should be no surprises that these funds come from the coffers of about half a dozen companies, BHP, Rio, Woodside, Alcoa, BP, etc, all of whom love work choices (and hate Labour and the unions).

But I think what we are seeing in the economy (particularly of the energy and resources states) transcends any political party or agenda. The issue of who will run the economy better is about as inconsequential as what they ate for breakfast. The economy will continue to thrive and although it’s hard to gauge what extra force the unions will generate (and what the financial consequences of that will be), the irony is that now their party is in power, they become more useless because they have less to fight against. So, the unions will probably do what’s best for their future and subside under one of Rudd’s wings.

It will be interesting to have as our Prime Minister the first Western Leader in history with an extensive grasp of Mandarin. Although the real issue will begin to be, not how to setup healthy Australian exports, but how to stop Asian companies buying Australian ones. Rumours abound of big Chinese steel manufacturers wanting to buy Rio (whose iron ore sales make up about 2/3 of their profits at the moment). This will require someone who can deliver the proverbial “iron fist in the velvet glove” for our foreign relations, and probably the one area where I would have rather had Howard in to bat for my country than many others.

Where Rudd gained a definite advantage (and probably one of the areas which take the liberals a while to get their heads around) was through his use of media to his own advantage. It was an aspect which kept Howard in the favour of generations of traditionalists by using more radio, for example during his term, where it couldn’t be so heavily edited.

Likewise Rudd got much more involved in younger TV to capture the younger votes and did so more on live-style shows, like Rove and the tabloid-style debates on Sunrise and across the broadsheets. This too, was probably the best way to counter Howard and capture many teetering votes. Even though it is eternally frustrating to finally get political leaders in a relaxing, casual situation, hoping for them to drop the façade and just give an honest comment or two, and only have them answer, (to the question, who would you turn gay for?) “my wife is the only one for me”.

God, won’t it be amazingly refreshing to actually hear a political leader just have a real sense of humour, play along with a real joke. But then again that’s really why it always comes down to a choice between a giant douchebag and a turd sandwich.

“Good Evening, Stanford Grand, Banquets, James Speaking, How Can I Help You”

My first rant.

Happy Office People.

FUCK people with company spirit and moral fiber. This is work. I'm hung over, exhausted, and I hate your guts!! And if you people wear that same stained shirt and suit with the company logo ONE MORE FUCKING TIME this week, I will rip it off your bodies and expose your fat rolls and pasty white boobs for all to see. (Aimed at two supervisor chicks that do closes and sets – both bitches that do nothing and act like they do EVERYTHING! Err)

And to our HR manager who is trying diligently to organize a company vibe by organising events that no one in their right mind would like. LOOK LADY, this is HOSPITALITY COMPANY. No one what’s to see a movie about lost love with characters that realize his or her mistakes and come back together with an embracing hung and lusty kiss. We would rather see a masterpiece of modern horror or rather a nice meal followed by a few nice brews. Hey. How about a wine/beer tasting? It’s enjoyable, educational and can improve staff knowledge for the company. WOW. It’s common sense people.

Furthermore now with enormous 600 people Christmas functions and New Years arriving at the Stanford Grand, I begin to go crazy. With more ever-increasing workloads, staff shortages, too little sleep, fuckhead customers and old tarts; I become ill-tempered and irritable.

And if I get attitude from another client/ customer/ dickhead/ know it all/ want be tough guy, I will have to knock him unconscious. And when he just comes too, I will approach the hazy fool and asks him, "How do you like it?" while pouring that red wine over his head and pants he wanted so badly on ten minutes ago. And knowing the Grand’s customers, the injured guest with a head wound would say: “Great party, isn't it?”

Well what can I say? I choose to work there.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy
All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy

Monday Night Fever, North by North North Styles...

November 2007 has sprung up more than it's fair share of surprises- and of course- some not so surprising things if i am to be honest. Australia beating Sri Lanka, me working weekends, Moff selling beer, nick being nick and funkmaster turning the pro evolution 2008 world on it's head by winning 7 in a row. Granted, he is well short of my 12 straight wins, but, 7 is 7 and not to be scoffed at.

In light of this, when the offer came from the moff, which saved me from smids pro evo gravy train, i grabbed it with both hands. After all, it takes 2 hands to handle a whopper.

From this I have concluded the following, dear friends. Monday night fever has hit. Indeed, monday nights are back, with a vengeance not seen since the white fury's legendary replacement.

One of the most eagerly anticipated evenings on the sporting calander came and went, but not without leaving an everlasting impression on all those gladiators present.

The first table tennis tournament was filled with highs,me making the final, and lows,me losing the final 21-13 to the moff.

After some beers we then busted out the darts, aided by some awesome music. I encountered an epic with moff where i won 21-20.. with the funkmaster trailing on 12.. This epic was, however, upstaged by the second game, where i won 21 to moffs 20, to funkmasters 5..

The table tennis interlude which followed, was impossibly dramatic, where i courageously won after smid bravely knocked the moff out with a 11-3 win, to go through by 1 on point difference. He came, saw and went in the final, without conquering, as he was eventully knocked down by an infamous Llyeton Hewitt-esque double handed backhand, made famous in locations such as greenhill road, the Czech republic and poland, with the final winning margin being in favour of me, 21-14..

This drama, however, was only to be eclipsed on the epic-meter by the final game of darts where my michael jordan-esque 3 peat was denied, after i hit the bulls eye on the 2nd throw, by moff hitting it, dramatically, on his first. knees buckled, tears flowed, high 5's were exchanged.

All in all smid walked away winless, I triumphed and moff gave it his all to be pipped at the post. Granted, his emotional, sentimental victory to deny me my 3peat was probably the highlight of the night, but i dare say we will meet again.

In short, the summer of love is back with a mighty vengeance. A vengeance normally only associated with the glory of Lorne. Bring forth the Summer, but more importantly, bring forth the houseboat.

When the whistle blows....

Puke of the Pupil - you have received a yellow card for your failure to contribute after requesting blogging privileges.

I would much rather see you begin to post that be forced into awarding you a second yellow card, which would ultimately be a red card, thus withdrawing the access that you requested nearly a month ago.

I am giving you until midnight Sunday November 18th to jump onboard. After this hour has passed, a red card will be issued. You requested access, now its time to use it!

Yours hopefully,

The Moff
aka The Grandfather of the Blog

Gawd, Why am I soooo good at this game?

The most eagerly anticipated event of 2008 so far, the arrival of everyone’s favourite football game, pro evolution, has been and gone, tears have been shed, speeches made and the confetti is now on the floor. And it’s just the same old shit.

First game with my dear friend Ricardo had me believing that this year maybe there was something different in store. The physics are different and the referee tougher. Could I break the hoodoo that has been going longer than Chelsea’s champions league drought? (Well not really, but seeing as they have never won it, or even been in the final, that would be impossible). Ricardo’s penchant for trying to break the legs of my players was paying dividends for me, with first one, then two, then three players sent off. And finally at 3-1 he cracked the ritz and had one too many players sent off, and the game was forfeited in my favour. I am of the opinion he just didn’t want to lose worse than 3-0, but anyway.

I was almost excited. But then it happened. I should have been warned by Ricardo’s constant use of the new dive function, and a ridiculous penalty against me. But I wasn’t. As the song goes ‘the real troubles in your life are apt to be those that blindside you on some idle Tuesday’, except it was a Monday. That’s right Ladies and Gentlemen, the return of the dreaded chip.

And back it came with a vengeance not seen since I chased Seth Edwards through the corridors of PAC. Suddenly, in game two I was down 5-1, with two of the most gentle, delicate and graceful chips you have ever seen. Oh god what was I to do? I don’t know whether I could stand a return to the dark days of PES 4. I was very tempted to throw my PS3 out the window right there and then, without a backward glance and no regrets. Or curl up into the foetal position and start slowly rocking. But no, I held it together. Just. The type of fortitude I normally reserve for wearing Lime Green suits into Red Square got me through, but I had to call on everything I had.

So it looks like I can look forward to a summer of broken controllers and much angst directed toward my dear friend Ricardo. A return to the times where a goodbye would consist of a barely mumbled ‘piss off’ and a fervent wish that Ricardo’s car would somehow run off a cliff in a flaming ball on his way home to Northgate. Ah well, at least I still have Golf (Thanks Nick!!)

Just to Assuage your fears...

Well I guess the shortest answer is; a little from column A and a little from column B.

I do have a couple of potentially groundbreaking works in the pipeline (a least groundbreaking in the sense that, once published Funkmaster will no doubt come up with a string of similar but lamer knock-offs (UP AND LET'S GO!)) which I am continually polishing. Holding me up is indeed a small case of writer's block, but the most significant thing is unfortunately work, my friends.

Where do these big companies get off thinking that just because they pay me obscene amounts for a megre 37.5 hours a week that I should actually be working for that entire time?

And with no internet (or computer or phone or mobile or electricity or sewage) at home, my only available creative outlets must be tapped into between the hours of 7:30 and 3:30 week days.

Rest assured my cyberspace brethren, that my yearning to share with you again is building at a rate which exceeds your longing for my return.

With great pining, your RE

Two questions that need to be asked

1. Where the hell has RE been? We have not heard from him since September 24. Could he be working behind closed doors on the greatest post of all time and waiting until it’s perfect to post it? Or is it that he went too hard too early and has used up all his mojo? Personally, I believe the latter. Regardless, the clock is ticking you west coast sellout.
2. Will we ever hear from blog rookie Puke of the Pupil? It’s almost been a month since access was granted and still no sign of any material. Remember Pukey, access is not a right, it’s a privilege, and I don’t want to have to withdraw yours! Get posting!

Yours in anticipation,

The Moff

"I'd Be Surprised If You Ever Beat Me....."

Little more than a fortnight ago I muttered the thought that "I'd be surprised If you ever beat me" to one Funkmaster in the form of an email. It was, of course, to do with that wonderfully entertaining sport- Golf. Now Funkmaster is of course capable of playing golf, recording hilarious victories over N dub dub for the past 18 months now, but today it was my turn.

Yes, the strong grip I once had on Funkmaster's mental game disintigrated with nothing more than a whimper. The kid not only showed that he could match what i did, but excelled it on more than one occasion, just to rub salt into my gushing wounds.

Gone are the days of funkmaster looking like a dancing octopus stuck to a windmill, on acid, on a blustery winters day- what we are left with is something that *almost* looks in control. a smooth *almost* graceful swing and temperament t'boot.

This was not a fluke. He beat me. When i holed out from 11 metres for birdie on 6, he holed out from 10 metres.. And so it went. Granted i played a horrendous front 9, but my back 9 was solid and i stil couldn't pull the kid in, such was his dominance. I'm just glad he played well and beat me, as opposed to him shooting 98 and me shooting 99, or something equally shit.

I am known to pull out the well oiled phrase "can't win em all" from time to time and i guess with the form of N dub dub of late, someone else was going to have to step up to the tee to beat me before I was to mutter that favourite phrase of mine.

SO, well done funkmaster. Impeccable golf today. An 85 under extreme pressure is a fantastic achievement- I'm just glad I was there to see you master those greens up at lofty. If i was wearing a hat- I'd take it off to you.

Let me sign off with... "can't win em all" and "I'd be surprised if you ever beat me..... again"

your humbled blogger,

Ricardo Del Sanjay

For Fu*#s Sake Foxtel

Ok, thats it, I seriously had to let this one out otherwise I could be driven to head in to the Telstra headquarters in the city right now and piss inside their glazed sliding door.

For so long I have been annoyed by the ways in which the Telstra Corporation rips off everyday Australians. This annoyance has been fed by the pathetic cost and performance of their cable internet and the frustrations of friends stuck in contracts with their mobile phone division.

My rant today my friends, focuses on fucking FOXTEL.

Now a FOXTEL customer once again after a six year layoff, I cannot believe how Telstra have now cleverly and basically unfairly packaged their ‘package options’ in order to rip off everyone.

My family pays $634.00 p.a. for what is called the ‘get started’ package. This package consists of the most basic channels, many of which you could actually find yourself wishing you could pay NOT to have, due to the annoyance of having to flick through them.

Upon purchasing this package (I must admit without prior review (thanks mum), I realised the only sports channels available within were the FOX SPORTS NEWS, EURO SPORT NEWS and the king of all channels, SKY RACING. You can imagine the taste of disgust that built up in my mouth when I realised there was no live EPL or AFL. These channels (FOX SPORTS 1, 2, 3 aaah fuck off) come at an extra cost of $15.95 per month (or $191.50 p.a.). It was unanimously decided (by myself and no other family member) that the EXTRA sports channels were compulsorily required, therefore we acquired them.

I now sit in a position where I want the Lifestyle Food channel and perhaps some of the Travel channels, as these in fact are the only channels I used to like to (other than the sport channels and occasional news or Discovery), prior to the one month free 'platinum package' offer expiring, but no…. This will cost me an extra arm AND I will be paying mostly for the other shitty channels which come with the ones I want, compulsorily.

I actually wasn't going to blog this, until The Moff reminded me of how we now get advertisements at regular intervals, easily competing in annoyance with free to air television. This broke the proverbial ‘donkey’s back’.

I therefore hope with little faith that FOXTEL, oh sorry TELSTRA, will allow us all to pleeeeaase for the love of god, pick the channels we want at unit rates. I am positive this will still be profitable for the company (how many hundreds of millions?) and will prevent poor souls such as myself, from truly losing their shit.

*Listens to café primo ad in the background “noin nointy”, and signs off.*