These are a few of the odd things that set Australia apart from the mother country (i.e. the UK!) Similar, yet different, eh?
The Spider Mailbox
Most suburban houses follow the USA mailbox style, with some sort of box on the edge of the property. But watch out for spiders when fetching the post!
Yet funnel web spiders, some of which can kill you in hours, aren’t the only strange, odd, things.
Merry Christmas in Rye, Victoria
Because just across the road, Santa awaits… inflated to gigantic proportions in an expensive house, built on sand dunes, made in the style of a 19th century colonial house, filled with all the gadgetry and labour-saving devices of the modern world.
A walk in the country can provide a host of oddities, from the deadly to the silly.
These are a few I came across. Places include Melbourne, Port Douglas in tropical Queensland and various sites across the Mornington Peninsular. I’m fascinated by the signs that are put up for public information. A real clue into everything, I think.
Japanese Bomb Sculpture – note the guy mowing the grass in the background. That was a noisy machine I can tell you!
Japanese Bomb Sign – little girl was the only casualty of WW2 on the East Australian mainland. (This contrasts sharply with the tens of thousands killed NOT on the mainland)
Crocodiles and Stinger Signs Next to Each Other! Just off the Captain Cook Highway.
Lotus Blossom in McClelland Art Gallery – contrasts to the large sculptures…
Tourism is Big – this is the Puffing Billy train in the Dandenongs
Big, forward control lorries are common in Australia even in urban areas. They hammer along everywhere, apparently in all lanes.
Graffiti All Over Melbourne – despite the sun and wealth, many of man’s creations are amended with random ink. Cops go on trains in fives.
Even Cats Get Banned from a Vineyard
Man-made Floating Island – this is on the edge of the Great Barrier Reef. The breaking surf is The Coral Sea
View from a Yacht – Queensland and it’s hills round Port Douglas. You just point and click, there are views everywhere.
More Views – from near Cpt Cook Hwy. Banana fields just out of sight.
Fascination with Olden Days – signs all over, this is Daintree
Daintree River Crocodile Sign – no paddling and keep your eyes open – they’ve had crocs in excess of 5m long here.
Humourous Daintree Crocodile Signs on the WC Publics
My own image of Four Mile Beach, Port Douglas
Cape Tribulation – here the tropical jungle hits the Great Barrier Reef via the mangrove swamps and beach. It’s where Cook’s ship “Endeavour” was dragged ashore to be fixed after crashing into a coral reef (now named after the ship).
Cassowary v Range Rover; not so fair.
Dangerous Pedestrians! They can injure and kill people when provoked.
Views! Along Captain Cook Highway. Australia is full of views. Loads. All over the place.
Tropical Rain Forest, Hot. This is Mossman Gorge, Queensland.
Garbage Recycling, Queensland Style. In Packers Creek, upstream from Port Douglas, they just dump their boats and leave them to the crocodiles when they’re finished with them.
Sign Overload, some graphically scary – Stingers are not nice
View at Port Douglas, Queensland
Melbourne Memorial to a war on the opposite side of the world – beautiful quotes from Wilfred Own in there.
Random Public Art – McClelland Gallery, Frankston.
Odd Signs with Humour
Serious Melbourne Tram System
Ancient “cold” Tropical Rainforest in the South (Dandenongs)
Odd Signs and characteristic Oz Humour
Blue-ringed octopus in a pool at Cape Schanck – there is no known anti-venom!!! It is there in a crack. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue-ringed_octopus
Sudden Waves don’t reach the odd sign.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red-bellied_black_snake Red-bellied black snake taken walking down to Cape Schanck
Australia is a strange, deadly place, filled with amazing natural resources.
The quirky humour of the people is to be treasured.
They try to be uppity with their restaurants, vineyards, big boys toys and gadgets, yet underneath, the wild west existence is evident all around.
It’s all in the nature of the place.
We are a mixture of the land we live in and the land we came from.
One of the chief drivers of change in the technological arms race of the internet has been the porn industry. Most of the ‘benefits’ that users and owners now expect e.g. interaction, user activity sensing, easy and secure anonymous on-line payments, on-line adverts and click-through promotions, on-line community spaces, forums, streamed video, etc – nearly all have been driven by the desire of the porn industry to make money.
Another benefit has been the push for the faster pipe speeds to deliver all this extra content. Your average punter has benefited from all of this, not necessarily being a consumer of all but benefiting nevertheless.
6000 years old FERTILITY GODDESS(?) from Catal Huyuk, Anatolia, in modern Turkey
Before all this, there was always porn and a satisfied demand for uncluttered sex, usually called prostitution.
In this cute article from the BBC, Indian sex workers learn karate, (for in this brave new sanitised world they are not called prostitutes any more), to protect themselves from ‘abuse’ they’re all learning karate chops and stuff.
I’m getting a bit confused here – where does the abuse begin and end? And who abuses who?
Anyway, I digress. There’s always been contractual sex, put it that way. Art and sculpture can be construed in many ways. Earth goddess – porn model? The morals are within the hypocrisy of the particular society doing it.
Internet Porn Benefit
Apart from the technological benefits I mentioned above, I became aware of another one today while out walking the dog…
magazine rack porn
A quick perusal of this website means you’ll be aware that I’m in the UK. 20 and more years ago, men like David Sullivan and the family behind Goldstar Publications, amongst others, started publishing shelfloads of explicit porn mags, 99% of which was for men.
Discarded Porn Mag
Invariably, these mags, once their purchased purpose was complete, would be chucked out of lorry windows, chucked into hedges, chucked in the road and on every footpath across the land. You’d see them everywhere, usually at an embarrassing moment. Seeing a wide-open beaver while out shopping with granny or dropping the kids off at school could be such a moment.
Anyway, I’ve just become aware that I haven’t seen such a thing for about five years now. This is despite the newsagent’s shelves being packed with the stuff, more like liberal French and Dutch cafes and tobacconists.
So that’s the benefit – No porn on the street. Literally.
Street jetsam and a Source
Of course, the streets are packed with the jetsam of society in other ways – tins of Red Bull, Macdonalds-KFC-Subway-kebab shop wrappings, 3L coke and WKD bottles, supermarket bags and crisp packets. Most is much less bio-degradable than porn mags and thus floats in the canal for years…
But it’s not so embarrassing when out with the children.
After having a bit more chat with Holly, I’ve put together (in my own mind at least) a few extra Crawling Chaos happenings after my self-imposed exile from music, drink and psychedelics … I’ve updated the Crawling Chaos site in a concise way.
Doubtless Harry felt a bit peeved about being left on his own to do everything. His (music) style is substantially different to Holly’s although closer to mine. So I can sympathise with his being aggrieved. I can also sympathise with his wishes to leave the past behind and progress with new adventures once he closed the door on the Crawling Chaos – writing a book or screenplay perhaps. I can also understand him getting pissed off with Baldy Chester banging on his door all the time, and thus everyone else… It was Chester who raked up the past under the disguise of “it’s all about the music; it is only ever was about the music, man”. Since he said that to me I’ve heard fuck all – and still no money!
After my departure, the band had a shed load of different members, some only for a single gig. One was a wizard saxophone player who was a solicitor and did it for fun. He was really hard to play live with as he played with his eyes shut (like the Muppet’s sax player) and consequently missed the nod for all the changes!
Another was a guy who does sculpture now. I met him last Friday at the White Elephant in Ashington. He lived in King Olaf’s bungalow next door to Bebside Studios.
Output was entirely on limited issue cassette although a video was mooted. Newer keyboards came with another keyboard player and there was even a poetry reading session.
Jeff did more vocals, although the ghost of Lou Reed continued to haunt him. I’ve got some audio and photos of some live shows with this.
If I get time, I’ll get Holly to write this lot down properly, unless anyone else has their three farthings worth to add. I’d like it done properly rather than my limited information.
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