The Hori Project - One nights babysitting widened my education

One nights babysitting widened my education

One night I'm sitting down to enjoy a quiet evening at home while the missus and the mother in law go to the pictures. I read the evening paper right through, from the overseas news about shooting coots into space to the ads for used cars and how to cure dandruff. I'm just about to go to bed when a knock comes at the door.

It's the pakeha wahine from up the road.

“Hori” she says “I'm in a jam. We've promised to go to a party and our baby sitter has let us down. I wonder if you would be so kind as to sit in our place and look after little Cedric. Cedric is a dear little chap and will give you no trouble”

Well spare me days! I have had some jobs in my time from being on the business end of a popper drill to driving a bulldozer, but py korry, I haven't had a go at this babysitting racket.

“OK” I tell this lady, “I'll give it a go but I've never been in this kind of job before”

I go up to this place and this lady she says:” There you are Hori, There are some sandwiches and some reading matter. There's a bottle of beer in the fridge so help yourself”

And off this dame goes and leaves me to it.

I have a gink at the sandwiches and they measure exactly one and a quarter inches by three sixteenths in thickness – just enough to make you hungry.

Well, I tell myself I will read something, so I pick up a Ladies Home Journal dated 1948 and a book of plays some pakeha joker called Coward – a punk name for even a scribbler.

A few minutes later who should show up but little Cedric.

“Hello little man” I say “ I thought you had gone to bed”

“So what?” he says “The mum and dad are out, so I've come to keep you company”

This little joker is aged about five or six but has the look of a panelbeater or a used car salesman just about to make a kill.

“You're a Maori, ain't you” asks Cedric

“Yes, boy, I'm a Maori and proud of it” I tell him

Then this kid says, “Do a haka”

“Sorry son” I tell him, “I don't feel in the mood to do hakas”

“Well then, poke your tongue out” he orders.

To please the kid I put the tongue out.

“Shucks!” he says. “That's not a Maori tongue. It's white and looks like Dad's after he's been to the smoke concert”

Then this kid asks me about a hundred questions.

“Do you keep tadpoles?...Do you like flies with their wings off?...Why do goldfish open and shut their mouths all the time?...Why do women talk all the time?...Why does dad always say 'OK dear, you win...Why does mum say she has nothing to wear when she is always giving her clothes away to those collectors?”

“Well, son” I say, “it's about time you toddled off to bed”

“Right “ says Cedric “but you must tell me a story”

“Ok Cedric” I say “one story and then you go to bed.”

“Once upon a time,” I begin “there were three bears. The father bear, the mother bear and the baby bear - “

“Crikey,” this kid says “don't pull that old stuff on me! Tell me about the dame in the night club in Auckland who wore the plastic skin-tight. Mum and Dad know the story but they say they won't tell me about it till I get older”

Then the kid starts off again with more questions. “Do you know Mrs Smith up the road? Well, she had to get the dose of goo for hydatids. Mum says she is a lady dog and all dogs have to get this dose”

I just listen.

“What do you like for the big race on Saturday?” asks Cedric, changing the subject before I could work out about the lady dog.

“Well,” I tell him, “I think Firefly will be hard to beat”

“He won't start” says Cedric “Dad backed him last week and he told mum he was dead”

This kid seems to know plenty.

“Do you like night caps?” asks Cedric

“Never wear 'em” I tell him

“Struth, you don't wear 'em, you drink 'em. Dad has a cupboard full of them over there” he cracks back.

I tell you this boy knows plenty.

“Dad always says 'Well, well I think I'll have a night cap before going to bed' and he has a pop at all these drinks in the cupboard” Cedric goes on

I feel I could get along with Cedrics old man.

“I like the green one that tastes like peppermint” says Cedric “but perhaps you'd like the white one that Mum says is only water but is good for the kidneys”

“Well, my boy” I say at last “you'll not have any of this plonk, so go to bed or I'll slap your bottom”

“Ha ha” says Cedric “Dad is always saying he will do that, but he never does”

“Well, I'm not your dad and I mean what I say” I tell him.

He doesn't seem impressed, so I pick him up and put him across my knee and give him the plurry hard slaps.

Spare me days, this kid says as I put him to bed “I like you Hori. You're a good joker. Now you can tell me that story about the three bears”

I start to tell him this story and have just got to the part where Goldilocks is discovered when I look at this kid and see he is fast asleep.

When Cedrics Pop and Mum come home they ask if he gave any trouble

“No trouble” I tell them

“Did he get up?”

“Yes he did. Said he wanted a night cap”

“How did you get him to go back to bed?”

“That was easy. I just smacked his plurry bottom”

“Did you really do that to our Cedric?”

“Yes I really did” I tell them. “And someone should do the same to you for letting him drink that plonk. How do you expect him to grow to be the big man if your going to ruin his belly with that rubbish? How do you expect him to deal with the half-gallon jar when he grows up if his inside is eaten away with plurry night caps and things?”

That rocked 'em a bit and I let it sink in.

Finally I say “Cedric and I get on alright together. Send him to my place some time and I'll give some good Maori tucker like the crayfish, the pigs trotter and the pickle onion.

I guess that rocked 'em even more.

List of Lamentables

I'll put my hand up and say I'm phoning this one in.  It's been another draining week at work, I don't know what it is but as soon as I get there all my energy just disapeers and I spend half the shift trying not to fall asleep.

But enough about me.   Here is a small list of things that the world needs more of.


Lamentables:
General lack of flying monkeys
swash bucklers
sarastic talking pets
duels of honor
creatures of ancient magnificence
Tesla coils that spark and explode at  just the right time
life on the moon and/or Mars
Star Trek Transporters
Mad Scientists
Worthy Adversieries
Undercover Daleks
Sailors that say "Yo ho ho" and mean it
Pirate shirts
Possessed instruments
Frankenstien, Dracula and The wolfman threeway cagematches
Godzilla vs King Kong
Laser eyes
Literal Dragons and their slayers
Sarcasm and humour detectors
Zappy laser guns
Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon!
That one ring
Pyrokinetics that work with the fire department
General ban on remaking movies badly
Vegetable Lamb
Giants and assorted Titans
Faster Than Light Drives
Golems
Chess matches with Death
The devils music

The Analysis of Rumplestilskin or How to make Child Traffiking pay!

Introduction:

Here's an interesting tale about the importance of telling the truth and the trouble that lies can get a person into which is a perfectly proper lesson for a young person to learn.

What a pity then that, once some digging is done, the actual lesson of this weeks story is totally different.

The Story:

Right then, it starts off simple.

A woman had a daughter which, rather predictably, makes her a mother. Now the girl is a top class spinner and to make sure that everybody knows it mother starts bragging that her daughter can spin anything, even straw into gold. (1)

Eventually word of the daughters “ability” reached the ear of the king who accepted them as gospel truth and he placed her in a room with a spinning wheel and a massive mound of straw, he promised dire consequences should the straw not be gold by the morning, (2)

She laments at the Olympic level, as daughters often do when they are in a situation such as this but suddenly a man appears and offers her a way out. All she has to do is promise him her first born child and he'll spin the straw into gold.

She agrees and come the morning the straw has been magically spun into gold (3) The king is pleased and the important thing is that nobody gets killed.

Over time the daughter marries and has a child (4) when the man makes his appearance and demands the child she, understandably, doesn't want to give her baby up (5). Being a sporting fellow the man gives her a chance to keep the child. He tells her that he will return each night for three nights and she must call him by his proper name, if she can do this then the baby remains hers but if she can't then the baby will go with him. (6)

The daughter goes through the baby name book but the mans name isn't in there. The next night she goes through the dictionary because People have some very peculiar names sometimes (7) but none of the words are even remotely close to the mans name

Now we cut to the woods because unbeknown to everyone else the daughter has sent her servants out to the wildest parts of the kingdom to find out the names of things that are better left unnamed (8)

One of the servants sees the man in front of a tiny house having dinner and singing a merry little song about the girl, the baby and the fact that nobody will ever be able to guess that his name is actually “Rumpelstiltskin” (9)

The servant hurries back and whispers the mans name in the daughters ear and on that final fateful night the man turns up and she goes through the pantomime of guessing (10)

When he warns her that this next guess would be her final one she drops the bomb on him and asks “Your name wouldn't be Rumpelstiltskin would it?”

He curses and stamps his feet, stamping so hard that he breaks a hole in the floor and sinks in it up to his middle.

Everybody cavorts with joyus abandon because the little man has been thwarted and they begin living happily ever after.

Questions:

• Exactly Why didn't the anybody tell the king that she couldn't spin straw into gold?
  You might have egg on your face but hey who doesn't look foolish at least once in their lives?
• Exactly how intelligent was the king?
  “Hello we live in a horrible neighborhood and the mice eat better than we do. Our debts are crippling but the one ray of sunshine in my life is that my daughter can spin straw into gold”
  “That sounds perfectly logical. Bring your daughter to the castle at once”
• why didn't she take the straw and that damned spinning wheel to the market and sell them for whatever she could get?
  If the intelligence of the king is anything to go by she probably could have turned it into gold that way.
• With the ownership of a baby on the line why is he out in the woods singing a song with his name in it?
  It could have been that he was arrogant enough to think that he had won but he could have been rehearsing for his part in the Disney movie of this story with the obligatory 80's power chords.
• When she agrees to the naming contest why does Rumpelstiltskin think that she'll keep her word this time?
  She could have held this thing over his head for years “Maybe I'll give you the baby if you fill the stable with gold. Maybe I'll give you the baby if you clean the house for me” the possibilities are endless (11 )
• How did Rumpelstiltskin get free?
  Presumably someone pulled him out of the floor because you don't want to be stepping around him all the time. (12)
• If she had bargained for her first born child and she really wanted children why didn't she simply adopt one?
  It would have solved the problem in the short term but the happy couple would have to be very careful from then on.

Conclusions:

It is fairly obvious why Mr Stiltskin never got the law involved in this affair. Although the daughter is obviously in breach of contract, to whit 1 room of gold for one baby, It would be impossible for him to get any sort of fair hearing in any courtroom because no judge would want to award in favor of an obvious child trafficker who would spirit the baby away never to be seen again. (13)

I do feel that he picked the wrong time to make his demands. In almost every cartoon or book that I've seen of this particular story he makes his appearance just as she has put the child to bed and from what I can see it's solely so that he can scare her when she turns around.

If he had thought about it he might have gotten better results if he had shown up at three in the morning after they've spent a really bad night with a baby that just won't go to sleep.

I'm not saying that he would have gotten the child there but his request would seem that much more attractive.

As a matter of fact I imagine that everyone involved in this case would have been willing to keep the matter out of the eyes of the law and after it was all over Rumpelstiltskin would have been out of pocket after having to pay for a new floor. (14)

What then is the actual lesson of this story? You know, the one that the kids are going to actually take away from it all?

• Always tell the truth?
  Unfortunately no. None of this would have happened if the mother had just admitted that her daughter couldn't really change straw into gold.
• If you bargain away your first born child for a room of gold then don't be surprised when it comes back to bite you in the bum.
  A little better.
• If you're the only person that knows the secret mystic words that would lose you the contest then keep your trap shut.
  Far too obvious
• If you make a deal that you don't like then you are perfectly justified in trying to weasel out of it any way that you can. (15)
  There we go.

Notes:

1. This is where the drama happens.
2. Presumably this event has made the papers and maybe onto Television so quite a bit of sponsorship money would have been at stake.
3. Then woven into a golden lariat for Wonder Woman.
4. The father barely rates a mention in all of this so sometimes she marries the prince and sometimes doesn't.
5. Which is breach of contract right there but because she's the goodie in all of this we're supposed to be on her side.
6. Even though the baby is already his but lets not stare directly into the plot holes.
7. I'm looking at you Tiger Lilly and you, Blanket Jackson.
8. Like Broccoli.
9. A major blunder here methinks. although it's a good bet that if she hadn't guessed his name correctly there would have been some kind of A-Team ready to go.
10. Having exhausted the baby name book and the dictionary she draws on the works of H P Lovecraft but good luck with the pronunciation of some of those things.
11. Endless to the point where he simply takes the baby and gives her 13 hours to find him, But that's another book entirely.
12. He'd be trying to bite everyone's ankles all the time as well
13. Except at the troll markets where he is on special at the local Deli.
14. But that's perfectly fine because he's the baddie.
15. It didn't work for Faust but maybe you'll get lucky.

Rugby Rugby Rugby!

The Rugby World Cup starts tonight and even if you're not a fan of  the game.  Anywhere you are in the world just from Buckingham Palace to Gilligans island, You must tune in to watch the opening of it for two reasons.

Reason 1:

The Mighty mighty All Blacks take on Tonga.  The Tongans asked for permission to respond to our Haka with one of their own and even though I've been sitting on a dance fighting joke for ages I'm just going to say that it's going to be O for Awesome!

Reason 2:

This one doesn't always happen but it's great when it does.
Directly after the kickoff there is going to be a moment when the opposing teams pretty boy manages to get underneath and catch the ball on the fly.  There is a stunned silence in the commentary box because this is the first time he's done something other than smile at the cameras and make sure his hair is on the right way round.

He'll look down at the ball and then wave to all his fans to thank them for coming to see him play

His fans are screaming at him to get moving down the field.

He'll wave to his mother who travelled so far on her bicycle to get here today

His mother is screaming and pointing at the coach who is shouting at him and generally using language that is most unsuitable for any gentleman.

Finally he looks down the field and the camera zooms in for an extreme close up so that we can all see his moment of realisation at the sight of an unstoppable wall of All Blacks bearing down on him.

He wisely snaps the ball away and the game truly begins

I should also like it noted that we are playing with a distinct handicap this time since we have left Whizzer Wal Footrot out of the team.  It's understandable of course, If we'd left him in then it would be a walkover for us and no fun for anyone else.

I picked up the latest Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Novel in the library.  We're up to 20 books in the series and there is no sign of the train slowing anytime soon.
On the one hand this is good because it presents werewolves and vampires as beings that are inheriently dangerous.  Unlike Twilight which shows them as little more than teenagers so whiny that other teenagers instinctivly avoid them. [1]

On the other hand the last few books haven't been that wonderful and I'm really starting to think about not bothering with the rest of them.
At the very start of it all she was a tough independant woman who had the ability to raise the dead.  Although she works as an animator privately many of the books center on her helping the police on their more bizarre cases and more often than not was the only voice of common sense in the room.  Admitedly most of her suggestions began with "I've got a shotgun" and it says something about the situations that she repeatedly found herself in that this was the path of common sense.

She was courted, rather unwillingly by Jean Claude a vampire of note but threw him over for Richard a dual classed werewolf/science teacher combination but threw him over for Jean Claude, willingly this time, then both of them at once, then nobody.
At the present time she has ended up with a stable of men, weres and vampires.  None of whom, it should be noted, sparkle [2]

What I find Irksome:

• The overall story just doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

She's pretty much living the dream by the time of the current novel.  She's got money, is surrounded by a small army of men and assorted creatures of the night and generally wants for nothing.
In short she is pretty much perfect and thats something that I don't like in a main character.  It's the flaws that make them interesting which is why villians always get songs with powerchords and catchy lyrics while heros are stuck with sappy love songs.  A bad temper is not a flaw is what I'm saying.

• "You mean that..."

All too often in these books people will talk about the matter at hand and the conversation will go something like this:
"That werewolf needs to be killed and I must hit with a silver bullet if it's going to stop him"
"You mean that the bullet needs to be silver in order to kill the werewolf?"
"Yes, if the bullet is not silver then all your going to do is make him angry"
"Wow you know it seems that in a world where werewolves and other monsters exist I would have known about this crucial weekness that the werewolves have.  I mean I don't even have to be any sort of monster hunter since it's modern day St Louis and I can get classic werewolf movies, almost all of which reveal this secret method of killing them, from the video store and buy silver ammunition from any gunshop"

The phrase "you mean that..." is repeated over and over again in these books and if it were only once or twice for some important information that the reader absolutly needs to know or the plot won't make any sense then I could forgive her but it pops up so much that you can pretty much guarentee that anytime any sort of new information is given then the reader will get another round of it.[3]

• Almost all the police resenting her.

She's the expert in things that go bump in the night and often gets called in to assist the police.  Some of them don't like the fact that she's a woman, while others are resentful of the fact that she gets in the papers.  Still others simply don't like that she's physically stronger than them.

All this is fine but over the last few books I've noticed the same scene between her and the police which goes along the lines of:
Supervising Officer calls her into his office or over to a quiet spot of the crime scene.
Asks her a few questions about her conclusions thus far, allowing us to sit through another series of "You mean that..." and occasionally pouncing on her contradicting guesswork.  Eventually he will bring up a case she worked on, usually from a previous book, and that detective/officer/person X "says something bad about you"

The something bad is usually that she's had to bend or break the rules, which she has, in order to get the job done and this she will sit through without admiting to anything or setting the record straight but then the whole sex question comes into play and this she will shoot down quickly.
Finally to end it all the officer will say something bad about her personally which she will respond to with a threat of official action which is justified given how the officer is more or less harassing her about her personal life.
But she's never had to follow through with these threats because thats enough to make the officer back down and establish to the readers that Anita is a tough woman trying to get the job done and this is just one more layer of bull that she has to wade through.

• She's just too powerful.

I'll allow that in the series quite a bit of time has passed and in that time she's gone from strength to strength.  Starting out, as I noted above, as an animator who raises the dead and helps the police out and finally ending up with her present day situation where she is:
Jean Claudes live in sweetie which gives her access to vampires as and when needed.  Although they allow for a certain level of bitchiness from the occasonal vamp who doesn't see why he has to take orders from a mere human [3]
Leader of the were leopards, who have gained a much stronger group because of it.
Very tight with the werewolves.  Thanks to Richard who has taken over the cities pack of werewolves
Queen of the weretigers.  This one is an ongoing plotline so I'm not 100% certain on all the details
One third of a triumvirate between Richard, Jean Claude and herself.  At first the only effect is their individual powers being boosted when they are together and more so when they are touching.
One third of a union between Asher (vamp) Nathanial (wereleopard) and herself (human) although this one was created accidentally unlike the first one
A Panwere.  Which means that she is carrying 4 different strains of lycanthropy but unable to fully shift yet.  So far she has been immune to lycanthropy but there's always a possibility that she will shift one day.
Succubus daywalking vampire.  I'm not joking.

I'm not begrudging her any of these abilities.  Each of them have come with a price that needs to be paid and each time she gets a shiny new power it's usally a great help in stopping the latest big bad to roll into town.  Unfortunetly this translates into

Big Bad arrives and starts making trouble.
Anita gains new powers/abilities  that assist her in stopping the Big Bad.
The reputation spreads and Big Bad +1 arrives to make trouble in new and interesting ways.

It's a never ending cycle but, if she doesn't do whats necessary, then people start dying and say what you will about Anita she's never been a fan of people dying.  But at the same time I think that the earlier books were better simply because she didn't have the semiphenominal nearly cosmic power that she presently does.

And just before anyone reading this starts thinking that this is just me moaning about things I don't like here's the flip side of the coin about he series.

• She isn't all knowing.

Yes she's up with the play in regards to most things and is an expert in her own field as well as being someone that the monsters will go to before they'd go to the police themselves but she admits to not having all the answers and doesn't suddenly recall that the current Big Bad can be defeated with a strange combination of cat hair and Grateful Dead Albums [5] due to reading it in a newspaper three tuesdays ago.

• She's kept her humanity.

Even with all the powers and abilities that she has gained and/or deals with on a daily basis she has never lost her humanity.  This translates into a very strong character who very rarely backs down from things that could eat her head with a nice white wine. This is especially true when she has to play vampire politics, which she hates.

• The sex.

Due to the fact that Jean Claude is an Incubus and she is a Succubus means that there are lots of steamy bits in these tales.  Also adding to this the amount of times that she is required to feed the ardeaur, which is less of a double entendre and more of a side effect of the triumvate mentioned above, makes for alot more steam heat.  But Laurell K Hamilton puts alot of sex into her books and writes it well.

• The wereleopards.

She managed to inherit them because she killed their leader who was trying to kill her at the time and is fair enough.  The previous leader had made a right mess of the group and they were one of the lowest groups in the city.  But she took them under her wing and they benifited in this becomming much stronger and healthier all round.  Except for Elizabeth who activly betrayed them to the vampire council and paid the ultimate price. [6]

• Her humor in inappropriate situations.

Like Jim Butchers Harry Dresdon novels.  Anita he will often attempt to make a joke at the worst possible momment.  If she's hanging around vampires they generally won't get it since she'll make a pop culture reference and the vampires have never really been the kind to stay at home watching the telly of an evening.  There is a small runnig gag of the series is that one of the bad guys will get the joke when nobody else will.

• The Weres in general.

Alot of tension is generated by the fact that, historically, the different groups of weres didn't work together.  Each belonged to their own seperate community and while they might say "good morning" to one another they wouldn't band together in their time of need.  But after the abduction of several werecreatures they were able to put it all aside and ask for help.
The upside of this is that the Furry Coalition was created and although it hasn't figured largely in the novels as yet may do so in the future.
The downside of this is that she was infected with the panwere virus by the latest BigBad to hit town.

• The research

From the specs on the firearms to the individual characteristics of the wee beasties.  The research has obviously been done and that aspect really shines through since you do feel that "Yes, this is something that a person like her would know" rather than other books where the vital piece of information is something so obscure that even trekkies would scratch their heads and wonder at the level of geekiness required to know something like that.[7]

Notes:

1. It's a post about vampires.  Of course I'm going to do Twilight jokes.
2. Except for some of the strippers and then only occasionally
3. I can think of no point to this except using it to win obscure pub trivia contests
4. Cue the "You mean that..." for the next three pages
5.  (It's the way I'd want to go) 
6. But nobody minded because Elizabeth was always a nasty piece of work.
7. True story, I know someone who once proudly pointed out that the ships being displayed on Voyagers viewscreens were actually displaying the Enterprise.

Real life is stranger than fiction.

Here's a couple of things that happened this week:

Thing 1:
I broke up a fight in the carpark at work last week. A few punches thrown but nothing really major. Was three pages into the incident report before realizing that nobody was wielding claymores.

Yesterday I was talking about it with one of the plant workers and he insisted that one of the women got knocked out. I told him what actually happened and he wouldn't believe that I was actually there, I'm only the security guard for the plant so of course I'm going to be where the fight is.

Especially considering that it's right outside my office! Some people Oy!




Thing 2:
Staying with work for a moment, a sheep managed to escape the pens and made a break for freedom but was caught by the boys in the stockyard.  My entry in the log stated "Swiftly Sidestepping Stockyard Staff Foil Fleecy Felons Flight"

Thing 3:
Finally away from work and back at training.  NAAMA is coming up at the end of October and this promises to be much fun.  This is a major reenactment camp spread out over four days with fighting, drinking, jousting, carousing, more drinking, feasting and general revelry [1]. I'm slowly getting my stuff together in the way of garb, armor and the like.
I won't be fighting since I haven't been graded yet but instead will stand ready and vigilant to be the camp gofer  [2]

I had a 2 major wins recently with Trademe. [3]   The first was a brand new tent that went for $40.00 and the second was a blackberry phone that I scored for $80.00
Normally I'm not a fan of online auctions, preferring to examine something closely before parting with the folding green but this time I'm trusting to luck.

Now I told you that story so that I could tell you this one.

Yesterday I was walking around town and spotted a second hand store with some knives of varying quality in the window. I went inside and asked about them which led to the following conversation:




"Can I look at the knives in the window?"
"No prob.  I got heaps out the back, what do you need it for?"
"I'm going to be going camping in a few weeks and I just need"
"Say no more!" Steve reached underneath the counter and brought forth a machete so big Conan the Barbarian would say "Oh come on that's a bit much"
"It's a little big" I said, feeling proud that Conan and I were in agreement "I mean I'm not going to be hacking my way through the jungle or anything"

The temperature dropped slightly and I gave that nervous laugh that one gives in the hopes of covering up the faux pas [4]
 "All right" he reluctantly put the machete to one side "what about this then?"
He produced a heavy knife almost identical to the one Rambo had used to hold off every single communist in the history of ever. [5]
"No, that's no good either.  I just want a little blade, for cutting ropes and things"
"No problem, no problem" he said although his tone indicated that there was a problem and he gazed at my wallet with the kind of undisguised longing that usually requires a lengthy courtship [6]  "I got this one"

From out of the back of the shop he produced a thing that might have been a knife in the same way that chickens might once have ruled the earth as dinosaurs.  I could describe every gadget that this monster had but it would be quicker to say that the only things that weren't included were a telescopic sight and targeted nuclear response capability.
"This is what you want yes?"
"No" I told him flatly "why can't I have one of the ones in the window?"
"Those aren't for sale!  That's my sons collection.  Display only!"

I left in a huff and he went back to admiring his machete and wondering why his till never magically filled with money.  Thanks to the magic of the Interweb I found an auction for a simple little knife and made a bid.  Result?  I now own a simple little knife

Take that Steve, if that is indeed your real name.

Notes:

1. There might be some drinking going on as well I'm not certain.
2. "well gee my uncle who owns the theater said it would be all right"
3. New Zealand version of Ebay
4. But it only serves to bring even more attention to it.
5. The fourth Rambo movie he made.  I personally feel that he should have left Rambo: First Blood as a stand alone movie but thats a post for another time.
6. and at least one cunning/wacky plan for getting around the chaperons

The Half Gallon Jar - I air my knowledge on Omar Khayyam

I air my knowledge on Omar Khayyam

It's no use making the korero about the new booze laws which these parliament jokers have been talking about for weeks, because all the papers have had the fair go and the Maori has not had the chance to say his opinion on these matters. I meet a mate o mind the other day and we got talking about this and that and one thing and another. He ask me what I think 'bout the whole plurry business. I tell him that the booze business has been going on for years and years.

There are always people who don't like the waipiro and other coots who like the pot now and then.

I tell him that thousands of years ago they had the same trouble and there was always some joker bellyaching about this drinking business. My mate he say yes but he tell me we should take notice of the wise men.

I say “Well, who you say was a wise man?”

My mate he then say old Bluebeard was a wise man cause he had a whole lot of the wives but only one at the time.

I tell him I don't think this Bluebeard the wise man if he had the lot of wives cause every time he marry one had buy t the new mother in law as well. Also he would have all his wives sisters and other hangers on who would pinch the crayfish which he had hid in the fridge for tomorrows lunch and old Bluebeard had the plenty trouble also to stop all his brothers in law from ratting the cupboard for the small drop of plonk which he kept for the toothache and other things.

Then I think bout the very early days even before Bluebeard when they did not have the pub or the half-Gallon jar of beer but only the plonk which we're going to have in the ten restaurants in the New Zealand soon. On those times, I tell my mate, just to show him I know plenty, the jokers carried their plonk around in the goatskin cause they have no half-Gallon jar or the bottle.

This goatskin, I tell him hold three or four gallons and weigh plenty.

When a joker carry it a few miles across a desert to see his mates and have the party he get plurry tired and stop now and then to have the drink out of the goatskin so he have not so much weight to carry around and this plonk have the real kick alright and soon the coot get very hoopsy-coopsy.

I think it the good thing to have the waipiro in the restaurant cause when a joker have plenty to eat the booze don't knock him about so much. Hundreds of years ago that poet fellow Omar Khayyam, he think the same thing. When he take the girlfriend out for the picnic under the bough of the tree he always take the half jar of wine, but he also take along the loaf of bread so the plonk will not put them on their ear.

But enough about the booze. The Maori more worried about the way the pakehas are mucking about all the world. That Krushen salt joker taking off the boot and banging it on the table and arguing the toss about this and that. Then Eisenhower getting the pricker and not making the apology. Then they both start shooting rockets and sputniks and things up to the moon. The Maori can't understand.

What good all this business is for, cause the pakeha can't fix the pakeha can't fix all the bellyaches and troubles on the earth so why he want to plays around in the space for?

Next thing I hear is that they're going to send a man in one of these things up to the moon.

Bout the only useful korero he might bring back is to tell us who keep the pub up there now and do they sell the plonk or the beer in the restaurants.

The Half Gallon Jar - The right oil at the races cost me plenty

The right oil at the races cost me plenty

A few weeks ago I am under the house trying to get a spell away from the missus and the mother in law, and have just pulled the cork from the half-Gallon jar when a pakeha joker from up the road blows in to pass the time of day and talk about this and that and one thing and another. This pakeha always seems to come along just when I have opened a new jar.

I tell him that the beer is not very cool and as it is a hot day he had better have some iced water.

He says that water is all right for putting around ships or using for hydro-electric works, but the only time he drinks it is when it is mixed with gin or whiskey or some other plonk like that. He says that he can put up with the beer being warm cause he only wants to drink for the good fellowship and that sort of hooey.

After he has had a few pots he says to me like this: “Say, Hori. What about you driving me to the races on Saturday 'cause I can get the good oil from a mate of mine?”

I tell him that I don't need the oil since the old V8 has had the rebore.

He say, “Crikey, I don't mean that sort of oil. What I mean is the dinkum oil, the straight griffin and the low down about the horses.

I say I don't know much about this new korero but if he can put me onto a winner I will give it a go.

The mother in law she say I had better stay at home and do the garden but if I go I must shout her ten bob each way on no. 7 in the big race. We get to the races and I feel very thirsty after the long drive in the old car, so I say I would like a drink. Well, we find the bar and, py korry, I never see such a lot of old barmen – they all about 80 years old and take about 20 minutes to serve a beer. We ask for a beer and an old chap gives us one of those medicine glasses about three-quarters full and he charges us sixpence a throw.

Py Korry, I reckon at this price the half gallon jar would cost about ten quid.

We we go and have a look at the horses and I pick out one that looks good to me. His number is No. 5, so I tell my pakeha friend that I will put the ten bob each way on this prad.

He says, “Don't be the plurry fool. Wait until I get the drum.”

I say, “What's this drum business?”

He says “It's the same as the oil, the griffin and the low down”

At last we find this coot who is going to give us this drum business. He is a skinny pakeha who looks like he has been living on bird seed for a long time. He talks out of the side of his mouth and wears his hat on the back of his head. This bloke says to us to wait at the bottom of the Members Stand while he goes and sees the heads. After a while he comes back with two very fat pakehas They are smoking the big cigars and wearing the binoculars on the belly.

The skinny joker who talks out the side of his mouth says that these gentlemen would like a drinks, so we all go to the bar again.

The side of the mouth coot says for me to touch the pants first , so I say, “OK five beers please”

They all say, “Not on your plurry life” and they order the double whiskey and the double vodka and tomato juice. They tell me to have the square gin with a schnapps as a chaser. Py korry, the only difference between schnapps and square gin is that on tastes like gear oil and the other tastes like used gear oil.

All this sets me back about a quid, and I don't feel too happy cause I want that quid to put on the no. 5 horse. I tell one of these fat blokes that I like this no 5 horse and he takes the skinny bloke to one side and they have a korero.

The big joker says to me “Where you get the drum?”

I say that I not get any drum, I only like the look of that horse.

The big joker say to me. “Listen mate, that horse has got no show. He is dead”

I say, “he is not dead. I can see him now and he looks very much alive”

He then say, “I don't mean he is dead that way, but he is not a jigger. He is going to be hooked, pulled and run into the ground.”

Py korry, I think this fat bloke must know something I then ask this big pakeha how he know all about this horse.

“Brother” he says “I own that horse and I have told the jockey not to knock him about”

“Hori: he says, “you had better be on no. 10 instead”

I think to myself py korry, this coot must know something alright, so I take his advice and back no. 10. Stiffen the crows, this no.10 dead heats for ninth and the no. 5 wins and pays a tenner to win and the price of several half-Gallon jars for a place. Py korry, this big joker he very angry and say he will report the jockey to the stewards for not obeying instructions. I tell all these pakeha blokes that I have to put the ten bob each way on No 7 in the next race for my mother in law.

The big joker say “What does she know? So I tell him she know everything.

“Well” he says, “she don't know that last night this horse ate his bedding and has got the bellyache”

I say to him to let me have a look at this horse through his binoculars, but he tells me that I can't see through these glasses cause they are full of cigar ash and he only wears them on the belly to stop the ash from getting on his clothes.

It is more than my life's worth no to do as my mother in law says, so I tell him I must back no.7

Mr side of the mouth he say “Alright Hori give me the money cause the tote is nearly closed and I'll run and put it on for you”

This coot he don't come back, so we go and have a look at the race. Py korry, my mother in law she know something alright. This No. 7 he wins and pays 50 smackers for the win and ten quid for the place. I am very pleased caused this will put me on side with the wifes mother for a long time. I wait until after the last race but I can't find that joker with my money.

When I get home I find that the mother in law has been earwigging to the races on the noise box and she comes running out to meet me to get her winnings.

I tell her all about what happened.

For once in her life she don't earbash me. But just crowns me with the lid of the pressure cooker.

When I get the stitches out I think I will do the garden on Saturdays.

Will anyone who sees a skinny bloke who talks out of the side of his mouth and wears the hat at the back of his head, please let me know.

The Half Gallon Jar - Mum's Christmas gift was no pipe of peace

Mum's Christmas gift was no pipe of peace

Py, Korry, I'm glad this Christmas business is over. I have never worked so hard as when I take the old V8 to town to do the Christmas hopping.

What with finding a place to park and mustering the kids, I have just about had it.

I tell you what, I would rather cut up a three-ply tea chest for kindling with a blunt tommyhawk than go through it again.

It's easy enough to choose a Christmas box for the missus 'cause our washing machine and fridge is always out of date, so I blow into one of these places where the salesmen are dressed better than Mr Holyoake and tell him to send out the latest and I'll pay him in two years time.

The kids are easy, too – I get them the usual things which you put in the dustbin in about two weeks time if they are not chopped to pieces under the lawnmower before that.

The wife’s sister is a sitter for the stiletto shoes, which is not so bad, as I always use the heals to spear the flattie when she gets tired of them.

The mother in law is a problem 'cause she is always taking umbrage and doesn't drink, smoke or chew. Spare me days yous can't buy her a packet of umbrage for Christmas so I get her a book called “How To Make Friends Without Earbashing Them”

The wifes brother is an easy one- as easy as pulling puha out of wet ground. I just tell him to go on helping himself to my beer, mussels and pigs' trotters as usual all the year round.

Py korry, this joker has got the cost of living down to a fine art, and is always talking about the Welfare State. Spare me days, it is the welfare state for him alright. I have never seen a coot do so little for so much, as Sir Winston Churchill once said.

Well, I get a Christmas box myself. The missus presents me with a pipe. She says that I look more dignified with a pipe and that all the best pakeha jokers smoke them. This means more expense for me 'cause I have to but a coat. A joker can't carry all the equipment to smoke the pipe in a pair of shorts and a singlet.

I next make a study of these pipe smoking coots and py korry, there is a lot to learn. The main thing is to look very wise while you are filling the pipe from the tobacco pouch after spilling a good amount on the floor. You then look round to make sure that you have a good lot of people to watch you get this plurry thing into action. Your next job is to either tell a funny story or start the korero about world affairs. After you get cracking you strike a match and hold it about two inches away from your pipe

You must keep on talking all the time while the match is burning. In the meantime all the people are laying the odds as to whether you will light the plurry thing before you burn your fingers.

These coots always lose, cause you always get there by the photo finish, but only for a short time; then you start the whole business over again. Well I learn all about how to get a license for this pipe smoking and go down to the pub to have a few pots with the boys.

I have not been there long when a pakeha coot chirps up and argues the toss.

“Look here” I say “You pipe down and listen to me”

I then give him a good poke in the puku with the stem of my pipe “The point I want to make is this” I says and then push my pipe along the bar stem first and tell the barman to keep the counter more clean.

“As for you” I says to some joker “you don't know what you're talking about” and I give my pipe a flick and splash him with the stuff that kills the bugs on roses.

Then I bend down and tap the pipe on the heal of my shoe, then put it in my mouth and blow hard until it makes a noise like a night club artists or a suckling pig squealing. I tap it on the palm of my hand, point it at people, rap it on the counter, and do everything but smoke it. By this time everybody is sitting up and taking notice.

”Py korry” they say “we have never seen Hori look so important” and they ask me to stand for Parliament.

I tell them that I am used to hard work and that if they are looking for a coot to hold down a soft job then they had better see the wifes brother.

After I get home that night I think I'll give the pipe the rebore so I get out all the tools and the pipe cleaners and a little gadget about the size of an acorn that looks like a baby hedgehog with spikes all over it. I make a pretty good job of this reconditioning business, refuel the pipe and settle down for a quiet smoke. After a while one of the kids says that the kitchen sink is blocked up again and is going “gurgle gurgle”

The mother in law says “That's not the sink, it's your father with that confounded pipe and Hori” she says “I wish you'd be more careful with your pipe. There's tobacco all over the floor and the vacuum cleaner is all blocked up with the plurry stuff and your bedroom smells like an old mens home. And furthermore, don't point that plurry thing at me, it might be loaded.”

Stiffen the crows, what can a man do?

Anybody got a tailormade?

The Half Gallon Jar - Half-Gallon Jar caused panic in the restaurant

Half-Gallon Jar caused panic in the restaurant

Py korry, it's a funny thing how one little thing can upset a whole weekend. Last Friday I forgot to buy the meat. Well, you'd think the world had come to an end. The mother in law she say to me like this:

”Well, Hori what did you bring home in the way of meat for the weekend?”

“Spare me days” I tell her, “I got busy talking to a pakeha joker in the pub about this and that and one and another and forgot all about the meat”

Well, the Hon Mabel Howard is only in the primers compared with the mother in law when it comes to the speech making.

She opens up on me and her bottom jaw does about 500 revs to the minute.

“I notice” she barks “that you didn't forget to bring home a couple of half-gallons of beer”

“Well” she goes on, “we have to eat dinner on Saturday night so you had better take us to some restaurant in the city.””

We leave the kids at home with a few meat pies and some pigs trotters and set off in the old V8 for town. I find one of those eating places and take the missus and her mother into this joint. When I go in I think there must be a power cut or something' cause the place is in half darkness. There are a lot of candles about, stuck in bottles with the candle grease plastered all down the sides. Py korry, I don't see this since I stayed at my uncle's farm at the Great Barrier Island in 1948.

A joker comes along and says “Good evening, saire. Have you booked a table?”

I say “No mate but we are hungry and want the good feed”

This coot says “Alright, just sit here and I will see that you get attention”

Then he claps his hands and a joker comes along with black patent leather hair and a white towel over his arm.

This chap bows so low I think his head will touch the floor and he says like this “It is a pleasure to have you with us. What can we do for you?”

I say “Fish and chips for three with a few mussels and some crayfish claws on the side.”

Well this waiter joker gives me a look and pulls a face as if he had just taken a bite out of a green tree tomato.

“We only serve fish as an entree” he says

“Ok” I tell him “bring us some of that”

Then he says. “Don't you want to see the menu?” and he brings along a piece of cardboard a bit bigger than a time sheet but smaller than a ship's manifest.

While we wait for the fish a pakeha girl comes along with a basketful of little round buns as big as a ball on a trailer couples, but harder, which she takes out of the basket with a pair of tongs. By this time the waiter with the patent leather hair has brought us our fish.

Well, fair dinkum, you wouldn't read about it. This entree fish is about the size of a packet of razor blades and, py korry, we're all very hungry. We can't read what is on this menu thing 'cause is all written in some strange language so I point to one item and say “well have some of that”

This waiter coot gives me another our look and says that is the name of the piece the band is playing – a joke as old as I am.

“Well” I say “ that rattling noise you can hear is the mother in law's ribs knocking together, so bring us some tucker to keep them apart.;”

We then order some steak and eggs. While this is coming up I go out to the old V8 and bring in the good old half-Gallon jar. Well did this cause the big trouble!

They did everything except call out the fire brigade. The boss man waves his arms about and has the loud korero with the waiter and the girl drops the basket of buns and the tongs.

“Take that thing out of here quick” says the boss “or we will all lose our chance of getting a license for the plonk in about three years time”

Well at last we get the steak and eggs, so after we finish I ask for the bill. The waiter joker says “That will be 27 bob each, plus a cover charge for the band of 7/6 each making a total of £5 3/6.”

The mother in law starts to argue the toss about the prices, but he says all the prices are on the menu. But we can't understand the writing on this thing.

We go out of that place smartly and on our way home we stop at the pie cart and have a feed of pies and peas. When I get home I go under the house 'cause I know I left a couple of dozen mussels under a wet sack there, but py korry, they've all gone. The wife's brother has clouted on them while we are away, so I go to bed hungry

Just before I leave for work this Friday the mother in law comes to me with a piece of strings and says “Hori, tie this on your finger to remind you to get the meat”

“I say “Don't worry! I'm going to tie a piece of no.7 sash cord round my neck to remind me to buy a whole sheep”