www.richardhagen.org

I’ve received just one junk email in the last 24 hours. This is down from about 100 a day.

I don’t know if this has helped, but here are the two things I’ve changed recently:

1. I changed the way my email address is listed on this site from text to an image so it couldn’t be harvested easily.
2. I bounced all junk mail back to sender, as though it couldn’t be delivered.

Update (2008-07-28T7:00): Only 4 junk mail messages in the last 24 hours.

Update (2008-07-29T7:00): Only 3 since last update.

Update (2008-07-30T13:20): Only 2 since last update.

(Sorry, 10MB)

(You’ll have to click on things to make them pause and double-click on things to unpause them. I’m still too daft to be able to get a controller working reliably.)

I’m not going to supply a link. Much much too much.

The clip is from Urgh! A Music War.

I’ve just be reminded of the silly term post-punk. Post-punk would start at about 1 microsecond past punk. The hyperbole, oh, I need a shower.

Update: (Sorry, another 10MB)

Klaus Nomi being very silly indeed.

The 1462 project just passed 10%!

This photo appears in an advertisement for an anti-snoring product.

I think there might be an alternative interpretation.

Electro Gypsy by Savlonic

… who’s that with Annette?

Sue’s chooks are crap at sheltering. I have seen one of them try to shelter from the rain under a twig. I’ve suggested to Sue that we build them a sort of summer house but this was roundly pooh-poohed. (I’ve also suggested that we build them a play set so they can vary their choice of things to stand on top of. No chance.)

However, I’m never going to look down on the chooks’ sheltering skills again. The other night, after a lovely dinner at Kylie’s place, I was dropped at the railway station. By Brisbane standards it was a cold night. Cold and windy. After being bitten hard by the coldiness and windiness I spent quarter of an hour trying to figure out a good place to shelter.  (I had to jam myself between the ticket machine and a bit of wall.) So human mega brain is on a par with chook brain for sheltering challenges. Maybe I’ll do better in the egg laying event.

The other day I saw a documentary called Too Ugly for Love*. It was about people with body dysmorphic disorder (BDD). The sufferers are almost single-minded about what they believe to be the hideousness of their appearance and are convinced that their imagined hideousness requires self-imposed exile from humanity, either through adopting masks, or by living in isolation.

The documentary featured three sufferers.  I don’t know how they were chosen, but I imagine that many people with the disorder were canvassed and interviewed with only these three selected for the show. I wonder what sort of effect this rejection would have on those not chosen to appear?

* I can’t find a good link for the show. But while I was looking around, I found this horrible site. The  author seems to have read a Charlie Brooker piece and thought, yeah, I can do that. It looks like a low-wattage fanboy not understanding that there’s something going on beyond  Brooker’s scatological sugar coating.

I’ve recently discovered Woman’s Panadol. Kylie and I had a yarn about this and decided that there should really be a beverage aimed at the same menstrual market, a beer or a cider or a wine.

My first idea is that it should be a wine called A Drop of Red.

What are your thoughts?