Murray @ Midnight is always fond of making a spectacular Entrance and none more so then when he frequents his local barista “Sugar n Spice”. It was Monday and he wasn’t in but his casual Binni was.

“A Flat White My Man and make it snappy!” he bellows and waves his arms about with great flourish.

“Snappy s’extra guv”

“A flat white my good fellow – with no snappy, but two sugars”
“Before or after” came back the response.

Dramatic pause as Midnight spins on his heel, back and forth, as though putting a cigarette out under his heel. He greets and smiles at the various honey baked clusters of humanity scattered across the Café’s seating. Most try not to make eye contact as was the accepted practice at the “Sugar n Spice” when Midnight presented himself in the special teleconference jacket with the lurid red and white striped lapels.

All except for Mr Lizard who was flat out drinking and working his way through the new train timetable before the theatrical entrance of Midnight.

“Before! Or after?”

A young lady stood with hands on hips behind the huge silver armoured espresso machine. She knew Midnight from the staff breifing and was certainly not going to extend him the same patience that she afforded spunky Terry from the newsagents next door. Not in that jacket anyway.

Midnight turned abruptly and presented her with two extended fingers “Two my dear chap”

“toerag” Binni muttered under her breath as she disappeared in a rising wall of hot milk mist.

Midnight buttoned his jacket up, was careful to smooth out his special emergency lapels, unbuttoned his jacket, and approached Mr Lizard with a strange glint in his eye. Facing the prospect of a two hour teleconference, Midnight feared almost no one… with the exception of Miss Petite Yum and his older sister ‘East of Eden’… who both were deadly in their own way.

Standing over the small table, Midnight shifted an empty chair back ever so slightly and extended a questioning nod to Mr Lizard. He shrugged his shoulders indifferently and returned Midnight a short sharp curt nod. Midnight dramatically slung the chair back, slammed its feet loudly to the patterned concrete floor and slung his body over the chair, hovered a little as he gathered the folds of his jacket to his crotch, and then sat down heavily.

Mr Lizard raised a single eyebrow, picked up his stirring spoon off his neatly folded going-out napkin, and stirred absently in a counter-clockwise fashion.

Midnight reached around, grabbed the sides of his chair and made quick bunny hop motions with body and chair as one towards the table until the table nestled tightly into his mid region.

“S’one flattie, two sug’arrs” yelled out Binni to no one in particular. She made a big point in telegraphing the no one in particular bit. So much so that Midnight missed it all together.

Binni returned to the machine and lined up three tall glasses for the next order.

Three ladies milled about the counter, excitedly chatting about one of their absent friends poor sex life and sub standard social standing. Two of the ladies wore pastel pink ensembles. The third lady, the taller one with the low hanging fruit, was dressed from head to toe in a tangerine colour and was not at all comfortable. She fidgeted and found herself saying “redeemably” whenever a brief respite in the conversation occurred.

To provide a little bit of variance to her repartee, she occasionally pointed at people walking pass the café and waving and motioning the traditional call me signal. This was off putting for everyone. She resorted to man handling the takeaway coffee pouches while stealing quick glances at herself in the reflective finish of the cakes display.

Midnight locked eyes with Mr Lizard.

Binni glanced up to see the pair staring across the small table, she looked down at the cooling coffee, she looked across at the ladies of leisure, she looked at down at her small breasts, her not so small stomach and then her scuffed Doc Martin boots. She stomped on a passing roach, let out a deep sigh, and returned to milking the three lattes standing to attention.

A bead of sweat appeared on Midnight’s brow.

The corners of Mr Lizard’s mouth threatened to curl upwards, almost a smile but more of a self indulgent sneer but committing to neither. He didn’t really have lips, sure he had a mouth as such but his lips were so thin that it was more the edging to lips without the lips itself. A mouth slit.

Midnight pondered this while trying real hard not to wipe the sweat beads gathering across his brow. Outposts were being set up across his forehead plains. It reminded him of a summer musical festival but with sweat beads instead of… well you know, people.

Midnight suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to hum the John Mayer song “Wonderland” but he resisted and held his composure.

Mr Lizard for a brief moment thought that this strange man with the impressive overcoat had just soiled himself… but it was the old couple behind him waiting for the express to Santa Anna.

Wiping sweat off during a tricky encounter like this would be very uncool but Midnight was in no doubt that humming “Wonderland” in the company of a Lizard dude… very not cool. And humming always led directly to singing and that was very very not cool.

It was at this point that Midnight had wished he hadn’t worn his special teleconference jacket out of the office and down to “Sugar n Spice”. He could feel pools of sweat being commissioned for the John Mayer festival across his back and under his arms. He tried to shift slightly on the seat but only managed to give himself a slight wedgie. Now he was really uncomfortable.

Mr Lizard took a sip from his black tea and wondered a) what’s with the funky lapeled jacket and b) crikey he must be hot, and c) of all the gin joints, why my table.

“Oi Mister Ring-mess-star- yer flattie is good to go”

Binni liked to pretend she was from the East End of London to help pass the time. Sometime she also mixed the de-caf with the caf’ jus’ for laughs. Yesterday she mixed it up while wearing an amusing Smurf t-shirt and tomorrow she planned on wearing no pants at all. Just a tartan skirt. And a top with big square holes in it. And a really big necklace with a huge bat pendant. And purple nail polish.

The three ladies looked like the cranky old biddies from the English television series “Ladette to Lady” where they get to call young girls with an appetite for all sorts of things slappers and the like. The Tangerine Lady would never tell but she herself once upon time was somewhat of a ‘goer’. Now she ate day old tea cake. She missed the slappering. But her joints ached now.

Midnight placed two closed fists on to the table, lifted himself out of his chair, pointed a finger menacingly at Mr Lizard. He continued to sip from his tea and regard Midnight with a degree of passing curiosity.

Midnight put his arm down and stalked over to Binni declaring “Thank ye for my crèma young fellow-me-laddie” while attempting to maintain some form of eye contact. He failed.

He collected some napkins and wiped up the spillage. He should have gone with the before and not the after. Binni gifted him with a withering look. She’d spent all weekend working up this one so she knew it was special. Midnight nodded in appreciation.

“Plank” Binni absently replied as she cut deeply into the Beehive Macaroons order by the St Trannies old girls. Tangerine was most unhappy about the selection but so desperately wanted to be accepted by the others and was fearful that if she wasn’t that they’d either sleep with her husband or worse lead a cow upstairs and lock it in her recently renovated ensuite. Tangerine was not well when she hadn’t eaten anything this early in the morning.

Binni wasn’t feeling well either. She dreamed of a day when she could throw this all in and become a practising veterinarian or pharmacist. Which ever job didn’t require her to go to university, encouraged on the job practice, and would be generally okay with multiple face piercings. Failing that, her dream allowed for her to also man the front counter at the Museum of Modern Arts merchandise counter. She liked the idea of commoditizing art on a grand scale. She also liked collecting snow domes of cities she has visited.

Midnight with coffee in hand and standing in the middle of café dramatically waved his non-coffee hand over his head and declared “ I must go one and all for I have a teleconference to attend, be brave for I will return later today before I catch the train”. Big generous slurp and then away. Out he stepped and quickly disappeared into the flow of passing pedestrians.

Mr Lizard set his china tea set to oneside. Pulled out his blackberry and sent Lord Nuffnuff a text that read “893 432 23445 349232111”… Mr Lizard cursed his texting skills and sent it anyway. The Lord would invariably call him back, saving Mr Lizard call fees in the process.

A thought occured to him – Austrians with moustaches couldn’t be trusted. Ever.

“That’s for sure” whispered Mr Lizard as he poured himself another cup of tea and waited for Midnights teleconference to conclude. The red and white striped lapels are not easily forgotten… or forgiven… Mr Lizard started to gurgle…. no, it sounded like a gurgle but it was actually a chuckle. Binni stopped staring, mouthed the word “Freaks” and returned to wiping down the huffing and puffing silver espresso beast.

Continuing our series of Sage Sayings from the vaults of pop culture – the Hanson Boys contribution is remarkable and their insight into man’s inhumanity to man is clearly articulated in the following dissertation:

In an mmm bop they’re gone.
In an mmm bop they’re not there.
In an mmm bop they’re gone.
In an mmm bop they’re not there.
Until you lose your hair. But you don’t care.

Mmm bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du

Mmm bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, Ba du dop
Ba du bop, Ba du dop
Ba du

Can you tell me? Night came but you don’t know.
Can you tell me? You say you can but you don’t know.
Can you tell me which flower’s going to grow?
Can you tell me if it’s going to be a daisy or a rose?
Can you tell me which flower’s going to grow?
Can you tell me? You say you can but you don’t know.

You say you can but you don’t know.
You don’t know
You don’t know

Mmm bop
Ba du bop
Ba du bop
Ba du

Mmm bop
Ba du bop
Ba du bop
Ba du

Indeed.
Poets and philosophers and frankly I miss them.

Perhaps not the little one that played the drummers or the older one with the strangely set eyeballs. Or the lead singer dude that kinda always looked like a really pretty boy-girl… I guess what I am saying is I miss the concept of a ‘Hanson’ but not these Hansons specifically… or that former politician of hate Pauline Hanson. Sod it – I actually miss Diana Ross and the Supremes and the swamp rock king Tony Joe White on a double bill.

Look Dingo is pretty English despite the recent operation and one of the things about Dingo is his one-eyed support (other than a brief teenage flirtation with Wigan that he’ll deny) a Wimbledon ‘Don’s supporter. Apparently the only team in the English Leagues that got demoted so much that it is the only team to move to another city and rebadge itself. Now known as the Milton Keynes Dons… who ironically are also not doing so well. Dave has never quite recovered or forgiven… and now likes to bask in the Don’s rich history…. anyhooo I thought he might enjoy a video clip of the Top 50 Football Goals and this was the series of responses I received in return.

After a minute of Dingo rec’ing the link:
DingoDave || sorry, I can’t go past 49…….it’s a goal against Wimbledon…….BASTARDS !

About an hour passes and then –
DingoDave || and goal 46 is against Wimbeldon…..goddamit…..I’m sensing a trend…….

Four minutes pass…
DingoDave || I don’t ‘king believe it……..36 is against Wimbledon !
I’m not sure I can take much more…… Onwards,,,,,

Ten minutes pass…
DingoDave || And 22……. I need a lie-down……

Close to an hour passes without a word so -
DarrenSaturday || so Dave…. the Don’s goalkeepers must have really sucked back in the day.

within a small number of minutes…
DingoDave || everyone can get rooted. toerag! plank! twat!

I’m told by a mutual colleague, Desperate Dirty Dana that Dingo closed his laptop firmly with both hand, got up from his desk, swooped his keys and what not from his desk, and without a word started his weekend early. That’s football for you.

Some Woody Allen Quotes that are real gems –
“If you’re not failing every now and again, it’s a sign you’re not doing anything very innovative.”
“I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work.. I want to achieve it through not dying.”
“Eternal nothingness is fine if you happen to be dressed for it.”
and my personal fav’ “Eighty percent of success is showing up.”

“…I’m not a superhero, I’m just a regular guy…uh uh urrrhuh…got to learn to rock and not roll.”

I think there is something in that for everyone to take away and ponder.

Apparently these are the new hot things to have – “Emotibiles”. They are ‘strangely expressive’… I dunno. They seem kinda creepy to me.. having little faces caught forever in a sudden wind change hanging off your earphone buds. I can’t think of anything worse than having one of the many creepy faces on offer staring unblinking back at me every time I look at my monitor. Or dangling around someone’s wrist like a Sino-cannibal booty trinket. Emotibiles that emoted and now sadly serve as a dire warning to others.

These charm bracelets, emotibles aside, are one of the strangest things to spend money on and then wear. Sterling silver tacky. And should only be allowed to be worn by young girls under the age of 15. And then handed in when a driver’s licence is successfully applied for or a steady boyfriend has been confirmed and validated by more than two non-bestfriendsforever members.

The post-it, or stick notes, ok ok I could possibly live with. It might be passing ‘fun’ to select different notes made out to myself, or to others, that indicate a specific tone or general disposition felt at the time by one of these little emotibile characters…but really… does anyone really care… on reflection I don’t even care and their my emotibiles that I am trying to express here people… let’s face it I probably couldn’t be bothered so let’s scratch the post-it notes.

Look – this whole emotibile thing is just plain creepy. I’ve never liked them in emails or in phone text messages and I’m certainly not going to extend this into a fashion statement. Seriously – the next step will be for people to walk about with a little LED sign on thick necklaces hanging around their necks forewarning all that approach the person’s current emotional mind state. Isn’t it enough that many of us had to contend with the first vintage emotibile – Flavor Flav from the world changing hiphop outfit “Public Enemy”.

Taking a leaf from Flavor Flav aka Chuck D – by actively resisting this ‘emotible’ scrouge by stepping outside with purpose and righteous indignation and loudly chant ‘Fight the Power’ and ’911 is a joke..except in Aussie where its 000 and you shouldn’t actually joke with it ’cause it’s for serious emergency stuff dude’.

While you chant to passing commuters and weary neighbours, try to make this spontaneous public display of action really special by chanting in a classy and highly memorable Gregorian style. Remember to pace your breathing, shoulders back proudly, and keep your focus. Every minute you’re out there your doing some good and something will defiantly happen to you. Possibly again and again until a change has been effected.

As an aside – I bet Chuck D got real sick real quick of people asking him for the time. And I can’t help but wonder if he at some point during his career toy with the idea of going digital…

The time is now people! From now on – it is requested politely that all Voodoonists give anyone wearing an ‘emotible’ accessory a firm slap whack across the back of the head, or if you aren’t too keen on overt physical action…or just find it really distasteful touching someone else’s head of hair, then feel free and empowered to tip a beverage of your choice into the filthy emotible wearer’s lap. Stand back after the deed and point a finger accusingly in their face and declare in a very loud voice (try on an accent if your up to it) and declare “You are stupidly-stupid stupid – emotibles are not a substitute for real emotions… stop it now and feel for real!”. Click a finger in their face to punctuate your claim, turn on your heel, take a bow and then flee while laughing hysterically.

I’d like Murray @ Midnight to step forward and set an inspiring example to the rest of the Voodoo community by being the first of many to take an emotibile stand of defiance. We look forward to posting the dramatic photographs of the action unfolding. Stay-tuned.

I have a policy.

Actually I have a number of policies… in fact too many some would say… these Saturday policies allow me to comfortably navigate through my life…

Some policy areas are Saturday-rich and often require a number of support policies to be put into play depending on the circumstances and my own evolving mindset. The Cinema Policy is a good example of this.

There was always one prime Cinema policy but two other policies have come to life as it relates to the optimum Cinema experience. The first two are relatively straight forward. The third is kinda muddy and evolving.

Cinema Policy 1.0 relates to the consumption of foodstuffs within the cinema.

My position is that I am forking out good money for a premium audiovisual experience difficult to replicate at home AND not to have a meal of popcorn in the dark. It’s about the movie it’s not about the popcorn. Forget the popcorn. It’ll ruin your gums, requires a huge amount of soft drink to cleanse the palate and its loud and annoying. If you wanted to sit in the dark eating a massive superbucket of popcorn – I suggest sitting in the garage late at night. Your garage not mine.

Of course popcorn is not the worst of it, the worst of it is ice creams and chocolate that invariably fall across the front of people’s clothes or into the seats for the next session’s bottoms to swipe clean. And the bag of chips and lollies that always seem to involve very loud crinkly packaging and idiots who can’t open them quietly and access the bags without a huge amount of racket. For the love of Grod – open the bloody packets before the feature starts and tear the side open for better fist access you pack of knuckles… or better still. Just skip it and having something pre or post film.

And it’s not just the stuff sold at the cinema counter… I’ve sat in cinemas while people open up a box of KFC chicken, another time some drippy kebabs, a bow of wonton soup, even a packet of grapes… sheeesh. Actually the grapes were not so bad, at least they were quiet. It was the tossing them high and into the mouth that tired me out.

Cinema Policy 2.0 – Placement and positioning.
I like to sit 1/3 up from the screen within the seating block and 2/3 down from the back row and dead center. I am flexible on the exact placement but like it as central as possible. If it comes to it, I will accept an aisle seat but for me to be happy I’d need to be closer to the back for this to be acceptable. And the aisle would need to come off the central seating block and not the small side blocks found in most cinema configurations. I also prefer my seating partner to sit on my right-hand side rather than my left… I like to cross my legs away from them and favour right over left.

Cinema Policy 3.0 This in-support policy relates specifically to films previewed at the cinema by Murray@Midnight, my mother – The ‘Googie’ and the ‘Madd Wrabbit’ before I have had a chance to see them.

If a film has already been viewed by Murray@Midnight in the cinema, as a general rule, that film will only ever be viewed by me as a DVD rental. It’s a policy in formulation but currently I would find it extremely difficult to even contemplate viewing this Midnight-ed film during its actual cinema release window. It kinda drives me a little crazy. Like mad feet and excessive head scratching around the ears.

There are a number of reasons for this. A number. It’s important to note at this juncture however that it’ not personal and certainly Midnight should in know way feel that it is. At all. It’s just a thing… a policy thing. I don’t always agree or like, or even fully under some of these policies but there you have it. It’s policy.

Any previewed and strongly recommended film by ‘The Googie’ is dismissed out of hand straight up and unlike the Murray@Midnight previewed films, I am almost never going to be in anyway tempted to rented, purchase and view a ‘Googiefied’ film.

Her cinematic tastes are almost always terrible… and made worse by her habit of zoning out during the film. She misses whole key narrative elements within the film and blissfully makes up alternate stories in her own mind to fill the blank gaps. This is most disturbing when, in recounting a film, she’ll make mention of characters, locations, or scenes that either never ever happened at all or featured in an entirely different film altogether. Her cinematic tastes are not unlike an old hardened cinnamon roll looking for some thick chunky custard to make sweet sweet love to. Horrible. With a strange after taste. And a sense of shame. And fear.

Let’s face it, films viewed without me by the ‘Madd Wrabbit’ are most likely to be either convoluted period films, light weight rom-coms, or serious chick-flicks with more rom than com and I just couldn’t stand two hours in the dark wishing myself away… far far away where the whiney Bronte sisters will never ever find me.

Of course I don’t get much of an input in terms of revisiting these films at home. They appear as if by magic in the bedroom and are watched again and again and under duress. I plead for mercy but there is none. Just a question and answer session to test my attentativeness as it equates to my care factor and in turn determines how my weekend will unfold.
Curse you Jane Austen. Curse you Lee Majors.

The exception to this is of course any film that may have been written by or in some way touched by the genius that is Richard Curtis. His sense of the human condition is very English and very wonderful. In fact I have a policy about the human condition as it relates to the English… and another concerning the colour green as employed in live theatre and…don’t start me on sushi…

What is really freaking me out these days is how Wikipedia is now the first go-to source material that almost anyone connected refers to in the first instance… me included. This website references back to this site on a regular basis…. but I figure that’s ’cause The Saturday, Mr Midnight and others such as Stark Raving and The Creature are just way too busy to dig, in a virtual sense, any deeper…

Let’s face it – Wikipedia has fast become the font of all knowledge…. and I’m kinda okay with that I guess, as it as it seems to spit out fairly easy to read answers to my endless musings in easy to read layouts… and a pleasing font…but I have concerns.

Is it’s data spittle actually correct? I mean who audits and certifies each entry as being ‘correct’. And who is watching these watchers? And…why isn’t there more pictures? I like purple. And boobs. There’s nothing on Wikipedia on both together…why is that?

Look, don’t get me wrong – I’m happy to get a quick compact answer, even if its legitimacy may be questionable, but sometimes the backroom machinations (also a name of a really really good Aussie 1980′s rock band with the hit song “No Say IN it” – refer to the other Wiki – YouTube) concerns me.

It’s not just Wikipedia that concerns me, it’s Amazon with its refreshed helpful suggestions and insane memory for past interests, and all those ‘social’ networking sites like Facebook and Myspace – they all kinda freak me out. Let’s be really frank here people – is this Big Brother by stealth? Getting in my mind. Second guessing me. Freakin’ me. And now I cna’t help typing freak which in itself is freaking me right out of my ever freaking freak mind….freaaak. freak frrrrrr…eeeeee…ak. sigh.

This ‘freak’ is on the same scale as when I discovered that anybody, and by that I mean Murray@Midnight, could just call up my del.ico.us bookmarks for rampant viewing and double clickery – the same lovingly bookmarked sites that I had previously thought were all mine… allll mine… mine I tells ya… my presssssscioussssss. Now not so special. Everyone sucks. At some point.

Damn you Wikipedia, damn you to hell and back… but not before I do a search for purple boobs…. oh… or a listing of Students at South Park Elementary…