My gorgeous children won a national film contest

I know, I know... I have been a neglectful blogger lately, but just have a look at this - my children won the 'say no to bullies' national ACMI film making contest...proud dad much?

http://www.acmi.net.au/screenit.aspx

A letter from a non- practising friend.

Dear X,

I hope this finds you well and happy, although probably not too happy. I write this letter anonymously and not directly to you so as to not be seen to either illicit a response, offer an apology  or brag about what happened. The reason I write is simply to have a joint observation of what happened in the light of an understanding of how wonderfully vulnerable people are to the elements and to each other. 

We were friends and colleagues for years, and then we weren’t. You chose your career over your responsibilities to act appropriately. While I can observe and even accept that, I also observe that my response was heavy handed and brutally effective. I don’t think you can cry foul over that one, you knew me for long enough prior to that point that you ought to have known my response would probably have been such. There is a certain point where nothing else exists apart from winning. Winning dirty is even better, but win nonetheless. While the aim of life and civility is to avoid outcomes where this is all that is left, one must never shirk from this outcome when it happens. Or at least I used to think that. I still mostly do. If people think that they are right without question; they have no interest in anything that resembles civility, then they would be well served by a harsh wake up call from life itself to adjust their understanding.  It’s a sort of ‘do unto others as you would wish to be done to yourself, but do it to them first’ morality to bastardize Mill. This is what you very much got from my response, but I recognise that the severity and effectiveness of my response was, in a major way, guided by external factors.

You see, I have recently come to terms with a whole bunch of stuff that happened way back in the day. But this letter is not about that either.  I observe that my actions and responses were very much guided by past fears and circumstances that were not present in the circumstances. Yet my perception of your actions horrified me due to these past events. The fear and misery that was inside me guided my hand to destroy your world. Your actions did not deserve that. Your actions were a spark, yet the severe amount of fuel it ignited and the accuracy of the burns inflicted were caused by external forces. I had five plans in mind. Dumb pranks that were designed to destroy. I never went through with the last two. The accuracy of the first three amazed me. I raised my glass to the destruction I had caused and took pride in what I had done. The last one, which I never went through with, (perhaps because a sense of fair-play kicked back in, but probably because I was no longer motivated by anger and just kind of forgot) would possibly have put you on a collision course that may well have ended your life. It would certainly would have ended your career.  

I have recently understood the idea that we are not our minds, our minds are a sixth sense, when we think something, we don’t think something any more than we see something or hear something. It is the observation of that thought that frees us from the vast emptiness that the laws of nature inflict upon us. That and the knowledge that only through persistence may we overcome this. This too shall pass as much as it will be replaced by the eternal that will allow us another chance. As Uncle Fred said, ‘that which does not kill us, will make us stronger.’

I know: your thinking, ‘...only he would be arrogant enough to lecture me on Buddhism and existentialism to avoid saying sorry.’ Maybe you’re right. But this isn’t about that. I don’t write for forgiveness and I wouldn’t accept it if it were offered. It is not about the either judging the other. It is about what is.

So I write so that you may observe these points and, in their observation, you will be freed from the misery that this situation has caused and hopefully not be swayed either way the next time something happens that may make you act from the fear and misery of the past.

Be careful. Strive to be happy.

Kind regards

M.

New Work - Self Portrait

This work represents a person as nothing more than the connection between three words. Am I nothing more than a choice to do or not do something? Is it in this decision/indecision that our personality and identity is delicately held together?

Sociopath is so, like, the new vampire?

I recently came across one of the stupidest things the internet has to offer: a blogpage and subsequent  book purporting to be flying the flag for being a sociopath. Or at least it would have if the author had dared put her actual name on it, which of course she didn’t. And let me tell you, while I may empathise with the plight of a sociopath, I also probably don’t because, according to this totally accurate and unquestionable diagnosis, I am one. On a side issue, that is probably a concern; how can a sociopath empathise with other sociopaths? Sounds like this post’s lame joke, but it’s not. 

But it got me wondering why it is that anyone would want to claim to be a sociopath, and when you think about it, a huge portion of people lay claim to their own identity and moral goodness by identifying with being something that they’re not, and then pretending to not actually be true to that nature due to their moral strength. I know, confusing...but let me explain. 

Vampires...

When I was a kid, vampires were scary. They were also evil. They didn’t have a past. They were strong, however not strong enough to stand up to the two Corries and a grandfather who regarded them as the one thing he could never stomach about living in Santa Carla (cue Echo and the Bunnymen). Then Dracula got a back story (I know, we’ve talked about this before). Speculative fiction, vampires in particularly always present an easy reference to the rule of the Aristocracy and can also easily see connections to women’s rights and animal rights issues. 

Vampires; these cool, strong vicious beings exist solely at the expense of their prey. They suck the blood, the very existence out of their fellow man without fear or favour, almost without conscious thought of what they are doing. The same way many people chow down a steak or drink a glass of milk without thought to what that has cost to produce. The same way people eat chocolate that has been made by slaves; the same way people wear clothing that has been produced by people who would actually be in a better situation if they were slaves (they’d have more to eat). 

But I digress...

Think about Michael Emerson’s situation in the Lost Boys; new town, new people, people who are very strange...then all of a sudden there’s this uber-groovy chick. He pursues her only to find out that she’s part of an uber-cool group of dudes who have their own mega-cool pad. 

Everything now has limitless possibilities for Michael. They live in an abandoned, luxury resort. They live outside the scorn and rules of the everyday for some reason. They spend their time mucking around and having fun. They don’t seem to work, yet they have access to massive resources. They were just cool. Then, all of a sudden, you get to see why. You get to see the source of their lifeblood. You get to see what monsters they are. You can see the easy reference to the Feringhees and the like (and by that I mean the English, not the fictional Star Trek race, although there may be something in the presence of fangs and fixation with consumption over production; having, over doing). 

In the Lost Boys, there is little to be said about why the vampires are bad, although Michael was tricked into drinking the blood, and it is implied that so was Star and Laddie. So there may be an assumption that all of them were in a similar situation at one stage. 

There is a strong presence of a possessive love in The Lost Boys. Star wants not only to impress and love Michael, but to possess him, to consume him, as does David. David’s claim that his blood is running through Michael’s blood is such as statement of ownership, of consumption. Then he dies in a very Christ-like pose. 

David’s death is a break away from the traditional understanding that bad guys should die because they are bad guys. Think about Dirty Harry’s defence that he didn’t beat up the bad guy “...because he looks too good.” Bad guys should die because they do bad things, rather than are bad people. David’s death reintroduces the predominance of action over character. The history of Western thought can be boiled down to that statement of Jesus “I am the way, the truth and the light”, being boiled down to him just being the light thanks to Newton, Darwin and Freud. This morality brings back the existential; the moral character is the definition of action in a continuum, not in isolation. 

The moral rule introduced by this is that the good guys can’t just kill the bad guys, if they do, then they’re bad guys as well. The good guys now have to wait until the bad guys try to kill the innocent guys and then they can kill the bad guys while trying to save the innocent guys. This is the only way the good guys can do bad things (murder) and still be the good guys. Action takes precedence over character. The problem with this is that the bad guys can be not bad guys by refraining from acting as much as the good guys can be bad by failing to refrain from acting, which is a contradiction as it brings back chance and circumstance into the moral worthiness of a character.

 

Then Le Stat and Louis de Pointe du Lac came along and their existence and relationship seemed to muddy the sexual/gender boundaries. They were very much presented as strong, dominant-classed males, but their sexuality was hugely distorted toward bi-sexual, slanting more towards gay than straight. They were dominant characters, but they were not dominant males, their gender was ambiguous. Louis’ relationship with Claudia is more a mother-daughter relationship in the context of Le Stat being the father figure. This story is a story of possessive love, of consumption at the expense of the other (I know, you’re shaking your fists at me and screaming ‘well that’s not love then, it’s rape’...the love of a sociopath). Louis’ repression of his inner self gave him moral power over Le Stat. It gave him a refined intelligence that the animal-like Le Stat never possessed. He was good because he was refraining from bad. He was good because he killed the bad guys after the bad guys killed the innocent guys (Claudia). He was made better because he freely chose to brag about this to Daniel Molloy. He is the perfect post-structuralist, disenfranchised self: he is strong and powerful, yet moral only because he chooses to not use this power; to not be true to himself. Meet the paradigm of the modern retail monkey or public service office dweller. 

Then along came vampire characters such as Angel and Vittorio di Raniari whose stories were tragic and forgivable. These stories were different; while most of them were still first person narratives, you couldn’t help but be enthralled by the character’s evil, female vamp lover/sire. Their story was almost as tragic and forgivable. But they were stories of strong and lost moral figures who had succumbed to love and fallen prey to that love, but had then become owned by it. They were love stories of a new kind. They reversed the gender roles, giving the historical female sire the power, knowledge and ownership of life that, at the point in time when the stories were set, were completely owned by the patralinear, male hierarchy. Yet the female sires were not completely a male image; they still aesthetically tricked their lovers in both stories. They still became very subservient to their new, empowered lovers. 

You’re sitting there knowing that I’m going to bring that up aren’t you? 

Yes, well, then there was Twilight, that spun that same love story back around to the traditional gender roles, but with a further twist which didn’t sit well. The vampire was a male again, but was he really a male? As a character, Edward was not dominant, either conversationally or physically. Bella is the pursuer, the whole way through the series. Even with Jacob, who is the more stereo-typical male role, it is still very much Bella who is the pursuer. Bella is also peculiar in her knowledge; she is well-read and scientifically minded; beautiful yet unaware of this. She exaggerates her knowledge and undervalues/downplays her aesthetics, a very stereotypical male thing to do. 

The last thing Edward wants to do is to consumer Bella, to possess her due to that being his true nature. At the same time, it appears that nature itself has made Bella for him by his inability to read her. He is that killing beast, yet chooses not to be in order for peace and love and skittles to rain upon everyone. The Cullens are all this way; they are bloodthirsty beasts, they are animals, but they chose not to be. Their power, knowledge and abilities would appear god-like to an average human, yet they chose to not use this at all, especially not for personal gain. 

The bad guys in the story, the James Coven, are just the older definition of a vampire. They would completely fit in in Santa Carla. What exactly is wrong with them? That they are true to their nature. The Volturi are not overly believable as a concept, the inability of the strong to accommodate the weak will eventually make them weak, but we’ve talked about that before too. 

Sociopaths...

Have you ever noticed that a lot of people seem to greatly over-exaggerate their own health conditions? There seems to be a correlation between how dull a person is, and how great their imaginary, wiki-diagnosed conditions are that they keep at bay. 

I remember many years ago, when I was younger, many people who would get a slight headache would run around and say that they ‘always’ got the most severe migraines imaginable. Being around people who actually got migraines, it kind of annoyed me that some people would over-exaggerate their condition. But it seems now that people don’t get migraines or headaches anymore, they get fibromyalgia. I must have come across this claim ten or more times in the last little while. 

We don’t ever get the sniffles anymore, yet our incidents of bird flu does seem to greatly exceed the reasonable expectations.  We’ve talked about the wonders of social media before and the like but one other thing life in two dimensions tends to give us is a polarisation of our existence. No one ever gets depressed anymore, we all get Bipolar, which is the new black. We all get depressed, while standing up for the people who are depressed, but only those people who are excusing their appalling behaviour with it, never the person who actually suffers from it. 

At the very least we get clinically depressed. I am not sure what the difference between depression and clinical depression is, but the later sure sounds more worthy of our concern, doesn’t it? I recently found out that this long-time friend of mine has been suffering from clinical depression for decades. I really couldn’t work that one out given that depression is generally feeling down in the dumps without an ability to change that and without an explanation as to why that is. Yet if I were living that guy’s life, working his job and married to his wife, I’d be depressed too. I think there’d be something wrong if he weren’t depressed given what he puts up with. 

Nowdays, we all have access to the wonders of Wikipedia, where we can log on and diagnose ourselves with whatever excuse we want, and it gives us references for us to pretend to have known. “The internet was supposed to set us free, democratize us, but all it's really given us is Howard Dean's aborted candidacy and 24 hour a day access to kiddie porn.” 

So there is this Sociopath blog and subsequent book that is purported to have been written by a seemingly self-diagnosed socio-path who is also a legal academic, Sunday School teacher and Mormon. In reality, it is probably nothing more than a good reason as to why a lot of people should choose a career in middle management rather than study comparative literature. She identifies sociopathy as "...a pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others" It is interesting to note that this definition seems to come from the very outdated, 1987 version of the Dignostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Perhaps the updating of the DSM in 1994 and since which removed the word Sociopath and replaced it with a broader category of ‘antisocial personality disorders’ , is to blame. This doesn’t sound nearly as PG13 scary sexy now does it?  

This person claims that she “...might have been a good lawyer but I gave up practice a few years ago, because it got boring, and I realised I am not very interested in helping people or corporations. I would much rather indoctrinate them, which is why I became an academic.”   

What a load of rubbish. The sector of the legal community who are interested in helping people would also recognise a sociopath in about three seconds. We have to, it’s our job and our safety depends on it.  

This person also claims to have had sexual encounters that, the way they are described, would constitute rape in most states, but gosh do they sound naughty...

She “...occasionally [has] liaisons with men or women outside of my principal relationship, when a person happens into my life whom I feel a desire to possess...” She goes into detail about this one time, at band camp, she strangled her;

           “..."date" in my parked car. We had talked before about sexual domination, and so by then I felt I had implicit permission to bruise and strike, which is to say that I was reasonably certain that there would be no retaliation for my violence. I turned toward her and could see the question in her eyes: were we about to kiss?

I slapped first - hard across her face so that I could feel the memory of high, sharp cheekbone on the palm of my hand for several seconds afterward. I could see the shock flash across her face, then turn into fear, finally settling into a soft understanding, and then an open and hungry desire. She later told me that she did not feel out of control until I wrapped my hands around her neck and began to squeeze, because she knew that I was strong enough to really hurt or kill her. She said, though, that she trusted I wouldn't hurt her and therefore felt adored.

I have strong arms and I might have killed her if I thought there would have been no consequences, but there were myriad reasons for not hurting her that had nothing to do with my feelings of adoration, not least of which was her prohibiting me from doing it again. I wanted to do it again, and I would several times after that night.”

 Well Sinead O’Rebilion...shock me shock me shock me with that deviant behaviour. 

The problem is, you can’t just pick up the DSM and say “hey, I sometimes lie to people, I have borrowed money off family in the past, get restless sometimes, has spent more on gambling than I used to...hey...I must be a pathological gambler”. Especially given I don’t actually lose money gambling. You see, in order to pick this book up, I would have to have an event that has led me there – a totally breakdown in my ability to control my life due to this behaviour. 

The reason as to why our sociopath in question picked up the book was “she started to see a therapist...remembered a casual diagnosis a co-worker of mine made years earlier that maybe she might be a sociopath.” So she picked up the word, the term...wikipedia...

There has to first be a reason as to why you (or preferably a trained psychologist) picks up that book. That’s the premise under which the book was written. There has to be an event, a breakdown, a failure of the mind that indicates that you are in some way “maladaptive and inconsistent with developmental level”.  You also can’t pick up on one section of the book, one page, one diagnosis and take it out of the context of the rest of the axioms of the book. 

But now we have this champion of the intellectually disenfranchised; this person who deals with the unsatisfactory nature of daily life with an emotionless and rational calculation. All these boring as fuck admin bods now have a new Edward Cullen to dream about, only this time, it’s themselves. It’s their apparent ability to destroy everyone around them  while they do not engage this ability that makes them good and worthy. They don’t have to do anything for this identity; they don’t need to learn something, get fitter, get fatter, get anything, but they, in their own mind, will get an acceptance of sort over their life. 

So the end of all of this is an understanding that there is a great deal of people who regard morality and strength as the possession of a weakness that makes them strong (sociopathy or being a god-damn, shit-sucking vampire) but it is in the rejection of that inner most quality that makes them good. Some people will be a lot happier to live the life more ordinary if that is a choice to remove the beast within them. When that beast isn’t there, they make one up. That eternal struggle, that dualism has been destroyed, the Apollo in us sings loud, but this is not good unless, and only if it is a conscious ache for the repression of the Dionysian, the animal that will mindlessly consume friend and foe alike if we let it.

I am not sure about this.   

BTW - Sorry for the excessive links in these last few posts, I won’t do it again, except for this one about why men don’t listen, which you know is going to bug you until you click it...

This post’s groovy, identity seeking quote:

“What is laid down, ordered, factual is never enough to embrace the whole truth: life always spills over the rim of every cup.”

This post’s lame jokes:

A guy goes in to see a psychologist. He says, "It seems I can't make any friends. Can you help me, you fat slob?" 

***************

 A man goes to a Psychologist and says, "Doc I got a real problem, I can't stop thinking about sex."

The Psychologist says, "Well let's see what we can find out", and pulls out his ink blots. "What is this a picture of?" he asks.

The man turns the picture upside down then turns it around and states, "That's a man and a woman on a bed making love."

The Psychologist says, "very interesting," and shows the next picture. "And what is this a picture of?"
The man looks and turns it in different directions and says, "That's a man and a woman on a bed making love."

The Psychologists tries again with the third ink blot, and asks the same question, "What is this a picture of?"

The patient again turns it in all directions and replies, "That's a man and a woman on a bed making love."

The Psychologist states, "Well, yes, you do seem to be obsessed with sex."

"Me!?" demands the patient. "You're the one who keeps showing me the dirty pictures!"

This post’s inappropriate over-share: 

Recently, I’ve notice that I sometimes find myself singing ''bi di doo'' quietly when talking to someone on the phone to end the conversation - they either think their phone is going flat or I'm going slightly mad...either way, it's all good..

Bye now...

[cough]

Bi di doo

[awkward]

When I woke up this morning, I heard a disturbing sound

This guy, and to avoid getting nasty comments, letters or being sued, let’s just call him Reverend Cleophus the Third...unless James Brown or John Landis is reading this... unlikely I know, but maybe we should call him Sid. Anyway, Sid made a troubling remark to me. He said “no one ever sues anyone for hundreds of thousands of dollars due to an attitude or dodgey look”, or something like that. I disagreed. I don’t think that he was right and the more I think about it, the more I think he is absolutely wrong. The more I think about it, the more I think that the only reason someone ever does something like sue someone else is due to a bad attitude or a dodgey look.  A few more well travelled solicitors I know would tell you that the reason is that the courts (especially family) are not about justice, fairness or even the law. They are about resolution. They are about getting two people who have a dispute and wearing them out, tying them up in procedures, process and paperwork until they get to a point where any solution, no matter how stupid, would be better than continuing with their dispute, and then sending them the bill. But do we learn from our pettiness, our inflated sense of self?  

There is a far bit of work going on in this area: exactly why and how do people disagree? Relational Contract Theory is fascinating, albeit American understanding of why people won’t disagree when they should. We’ve talked before about happiness and morality and how in the fight between emotions and reason, emotions will win. Especially emotions like disgust, vanity and pride. Then once we have made up our mind on that, we will stick with it way beyond the point of sanity. This is the point where our lovely confirmation bias kicks in and keeps us from re-evaluating the facts.

I live in this nice little quiet street, right on the beach where everyone , well, most people, get along really well. I’ve lived here for a few years now and the place was a clear change from my last abode, especially in terms of the neighbours. My last home was neighboured by druggies on one side and alcos on the other, so a street where most people say hello and are happy and look out for unusual or odd events is a wonderful change. The only problem is; it comes at the expense of the blue house.

The blue house is directly opposite us. When we first moved in, everyone in the street was welcoming and happy to talk to us. They all also warned us about those people in the blue house. They were not welcome. There were stories of having to call the police time and time again due to noise, swearing and fighting. The blue house’s cat was responsible for most of the ills of the street; from lounges and outdoor furniture being ruined to plants not growing properly.

I never had any issue with the people; they seemed nice and kept to themselves. I am not sure whether this is due to their character or that they knew no one liked them. There was only one night that I heard any fighting or yelling, and that didn’t last very long and wasn’t too intrusive, save for a radio being thrown on the road. But upsetting the neighbours on one occasion in over a year is quite alright with me. It’s a fair bit better than my usual average.

Then they moved out. There were stories that they were on the run from the law, that they were on the run from something else, had just run away, or that they had moved to the mines and the like. The house stayed empty for a while and then everyone was relieved when it was tenanted by ‘nice’ people.

Not long went by before the ‘nice’ people, while still being nice, this niceness had qualifications; they were nice, but drove a car that was too expensive. Then the teenage daughter left a light on overnight and was a little noisy. Another brief period of time passed before how they had acted on a particular occasion became who they were. “They did the wrong thing by upsetting...[well, let’s just call her Mrs Murphy]”

Another thing that has happened is that next door has been renovated and another person has moved in. The lady that lives next door is in her nineties and has lived in that house for fifty years. She still has an English accent that is almost too think to understand at times. She pays a grumpy old fool to mow the front lawn, but the back lawn is mainly overgrown weeds and clover. For a while now I have been meaning to spend a few hours mowing and then weeding the yard as it needs doing. This is not only cause I’m just that nice ... [cough] ... fine then... but it is also because it would save a lot of weeds coming through to our yard for a while. So while this was a helping-out-a-neighbour idea, there was also benefit for me in it.

But then her daughter moved in. And then her daughter swore at the neighbours for using a chainsaw too loudly. And then her daughter swore at me for using a sander one Sunday arvo.

“I’m just so sick of all this noise. Could YOU people make any more noise?”

Never ask an Aussie man if he could make more noise after you’ve annoyed him. You’re not going to like the answer. There may not be a valid reason for using a drop saw and a petrol powered pressure cleaner at the same time; come to think of it it’s probably a tad bit dangerous, but I do believe it answers her question.

But here’s the thing: now I am not inclined to help with the back yard at all.  

Why is this? Am I justified in just saying ‘well stuff them then, they can mow their own yard’ when I know that they clearly can’t? I lie to myself and say that I have too much on my plate as it is and couldn’t really spare the time.

I have witnessed the daughter have a partial tantrum at a council worker who was planting trees, prettying up the street; due to their being a palm tree there many decades ago (probably before this guy was born) that caused them some concern. So maybe I don’t want to be subjected to an onlooker. Maybe I don’t want to allow myself to be judged by an unwelcomed external source.

Maybe, and maybe not. But the point is that for some reason, I am a less kind person, I am a lesser person than I was and I can not explain why. If I say it was caused by her, I would have to admit that she has some sense of power to do that, which I don’t want to do. Maybe she’s just cranky and lonely and I should cut her some slack.

Australia has a fairly good track record at being able to turn the other cheek as a country. We don’t get all pissy when our leaders do something stupid. The closest we’ve ever come to civil war or rebellion was over rum and we didn’t throw a tantrum and dump a whole bunch of tea into a river or try and blow up parliament house with gunpowder, we just found him cowering under his bed and sent him back to England. “This one’s no good,” we said, “but no harm done, just send us another one.”  

By the way, sorry for all the cheesey Blues Brothers references and links... here’s one more to make a lie out of my apology. It’s my son’s new all time favourite movie. A while ago I lamented that the greatest joy in life is watching four children eat their breakfast and sway in time to ‘Love in an Elevator’. It’s been topped by those same kids not wanting to go to the school disco because the music is terrible... “I’d go if they played a little SRV or Beatles Dad.” ... you kids rock.

This post’s lame joke:

Most people don’t realise that Heaven isn’t above us and Hell isn’t below us, they are side by side. One day, Satan threw a huge kegger and ended up burning down a few sheds and the big fence that separates the two areas.

The next morning, God is out there and he is mad. I mean, he is really mad.

“You’ll fix up this fence and quickly.” He yells at Satan.

Satan, bleary eyed and hung-over, replies “yeah, yeah, we have tonnes of tradies here in hell. We have concreters, builders, builder’s labourers. It’ll be done in no time.”

A few hours later, God is surprised to see the fence has not only been completely rebuilt, but it is far more magnificent than the last one. When God inspects it a little closer, he notices that the fence is actually three metres on the heaven side of the boundary.

“You bum” God yells at Satan, “You won’t get away with this, I’m going to sue you for this.”

“Really?” Satan responds, “and where are you going to find a lawyer?”

This post’s groovy, identity seeking quote:

(you know the one I’m going to throw at you already don’t you dear reader?)

This is the Court...which has its decaying houses and its lighted lands in every shire, which has its worn-out lunatic in every madhouse and its dead in every churchyard, which has its ruined suitor with his slipshod heels and threadbare dress borrowing and begging through the round of every man's acquaintance, which gives to monied might the means abundantly of wearying out the right, which so exhausts finances, patience, courage, hope, so overthrows the brain and breaks the heart, that there is not an honourable man among its practitioners who would not give — who does not often give — the warning, "Suffer any wrong that can be done you rather than come here!"

This post’s inappropriate over share:

Continuing on from the theme of pettiness, or a variation of it, I can’t stand people who say “for all intensive purposes”. What on earth does that mean? I know they meant to say ‘for all intents and purposes’ but what is an intensive purpose? What isn’t? Are they even listening to what they’re saying? Why are non-intensive or less-intensive purposes not allowed? I know it seems little but man does it get under my skin. It’s like all these bogans who slush out the supposed ANZAC poem and say “...age will not weary them, nor the years condemn.” What does that mean ? Why would the years condemn them? That doesn’t make any sense. The years may contemn them, that would make sense. 

I guess I’m just small minded and petty...