**************************************************************************** ### # # ### ##### ## # # # ## ## # # ### ##### ## ### ### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #### ### # # # # # # # # # ## # #### ### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # ### # ## # # # ## ## ## ### # # # # # ### ____________________________________________________________________________ # # ### #### # # #### # # ### #### ##### # # ##### #### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #### ### ### ##### # # #### ##### # # ##### ### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # ### ### # # # # #### # # ### # # # ##### ##### #### *******NUMBERS 396 TO 400*****************************BY DANIEL BOWEN******* *****Please note, some of the quoted addresses within this file may no***** ***longer be correct. Please email info@toxiccustard.com for information.*** "Junk Toxic Custard Mail" TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES http://www.toxiccustard.com Number 396, 18th of May 1998.----------------.Written by Daniel Bowen ----------------------------' `----------------------- DIARY - Sun 17/5/98 - Junk mail Within two days of me writing all about the Who's Who thingy (last week), and their associated US$951 membership fee, well knock me down with a bulldozer, but what should arrive in the (analogue) mail? A letter from them again! Exactly the same as the first one, but with a later date! I guess I'm back to step one. I'm never going to escape, am I. It's like being on a Reader's Digest list. They'll keep sending me stuff for decades, all promising great stuff if I just acknowledge them by sending something back. I'll have to fake my own death to get off their mailing list. Since this terrific offer is here in front of me once more, here are some choice quotes: "Dear Daniel Bowen" - ah yes, number one sign of a mail merge. All they've got is my name and address. No "Dear Daniel", no "Dear Mr Bowen", nothing like that, because their computer doesn't know if I'm a Mr or a Ms or what. Later, there's "Specifically, Daniel Bowen, ...." Just thank God they don't have it clumsily printed like Reader's Digest do, with the line including my name in it done in a different font. "As a highly respected professional in your field..." - of course, they have no idea what my field is, apart from the fact that they've already sent me one of these forms which I was foolish enough to send back last time. "PS." - wait for this one... "There is no cost or obligation on your part for your inclusion in the International Who's Who directory". Ha! (See last week). And well well well, they even have a Web page. www.gibralter.com. Obviously they couldn't get a domain name remotely related to their company name. But hey, apparently Ivana Trump is on the Board Of Advisors! For more from the diary, see http://www.toxiccustard.com/diary/1998/05.html - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TOXIC CUSTARD GUIDE TO AUSTRALIA My daughter needs a recipe for a dish specific to Australia--she's only 12, so please suggest one that doesn't contain beer. - Lorna In my travels - and I'll admit they haven't been extensive - I have never encountered anything quite like the Sausage Sizzle. The Sausage Sizzle is an event found all over rural and suburban Australia, often organised by scouts or volunteer firefighters for fundraising. The recipe for a Sausage Sizzle is so simple even I could manage it, and the result - a "sausage" - is surprisingly delicious. Here's what you do: 1. Get a packet of sausages, and a loaf of bread. (White seems to taste better). You'll also need a bottle of tomato sauce or ketchup. Optional are mustard and onions. 2. Barbecue the sausages. Or grill them. Or fry them. Or whatever you do with them. Just cook them. Make sure they're well done, so you can see some BLACK! Also slice and cook the onions. 3. Fold each piece of bread diagonally, and place a sausage in each. Cover in sauce, mustard, onions, whatever you want! 4. Eat it. Or charge other people a dollar to eat it. Easy. Is radar commonly used to catch speeders in Australia? If in some states only, do you know which? Is the use of radar detectors illegal? Would customs be likely to confiscate a radar detector found in a tourist's baggage? - Austin Why do I get the feeling from your questions that you're planning to visit and drive very fast? Why do you want to do that, exactly? If you drive a bit more slowly - or at least within the speed limit, not only are you more likely to see some of the country you'll have paid enormous amounts in airfares to get to, but you're less likely to be in an accident. And let's face it, a car accident can put a dampener on anybody's holiday. I'm sure I speak for most Australians when I say that if you really want to just drive around breaking speed limits, we'd prefer you stayed at home. Perhaps you don't have the equivalent of our graphic TAC road accident commercials. Perhaps you should. Anyway, the answers to your questions are: Yes, radar is used extensively. To my knowledge, all the states use them. Yes, detectors are illegal. I don't know if one would be confiscated, but Customs don't normally take kindly to the importation of illegal devices. The speed limit is generally 60Km/h in built-up areas, or 100Km/h on freeways and in the country. For more questions and answers, and to ask your own questions, head to http://www.toxiccustard.com/australia/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What's that? You've got comments, questions or abuse? Then get replying! If you don't want to receive this mail, and you're wondering why you are, it's because you asked to be subscribed. If you've changed your mind, then send mail to request@toxiccustard.com with the subject "remove". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -- Copyright (c) 1998 Daniel Bowen. Excerpts may be distributed for non- profit purposes provided no modifications are made and this copyright notice is included. -- Daniel Bowen, Custard Communications Pty Ltd, Melbourne, Australia ---------- E-mail: dbowen@custard.net.au ------- TCWF information: info@toxiccustard.com Waste your time here---> http://www.toxiccustard.com <---Waste your time here ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Breathalysed Toxic Custard" Toxic Custard Workshop Files http://www.toxiccustard.com Number 397, Sorry Day Eve. (Just because it's Written by not your fault, doesn't mean you can't be sorry.) Daniel Bowen --------------------------------------------------------------------- I wonder... if you buy a car with a "bumper to bumper" warranty... does it include the tow bar? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - What happened to Ralph and Chuck? Uhh... well, it was my intention to continue their adventures every fortnight. Which would mean you'd get another exciting, thrilling, futuristic space-age episode today. But you haven't. Ummm.. because. They'll be back next week, I promise! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - DIARY - Sun 24/5/98 - Nearly breathalysed It must be a curious phenomenon of the responsible newly licensed driver: I want to get breathalysed. It's not that I want to triumphantly avoid giving the cops a single chance to take my newly earned licence away by finding alcohol in my blood. It's just part of the whole car experience, like driving over the Westgate Bridge for the first time, or doing the Great Ocean Road, or parallel parking in a busy street. Or changing a tyre, I suppose. I'm not sure I'm looking forward to that quite so much. But while I've done most of the above, I haven't been pulled over once. I don't think I've even got any stern looks from passing police. I guess I'm successful at trying not to drive like a complete maniac. So anyway, here's what happened last Thursday week. I had left the car at Susannah's (my sister) place in Richmond, and we'd gone to the Paul Kelly concert on the tram. After getting back around midnight, and a quick go on John's (my sister's boyfriend) cool but extremely bizarre handheld electronic angling game (I kid you not!) I got back in the car and headed for home. I thought I knew a shortcut, which involved turning right from Swan Street into Church Street. But when I got there, I noticed a big "No Right Turn" sign. Despite it being past midnight, and there being almost nobody around, I thought I'd be a good citizen, and besides, taking Glenferrie Road south would be just as easy. My sister told me later that there used to be a second piece of that sign, that said something like "MON-FRI 4:30-6:30pm", which has fallen off, and nobody knows if they mean to replace it or not. But no matter. A further kilometre or so down Swan Street, a police car turned into the street ahead, going in the same direction. And a few seconds, I saw a second police car, stopped with the lights flashing, with some motorist getting a quizzing. Didn't look too serious though. The Vic police can look pretty friendly when they don't have their guns drawn. At this point, the road goes up and over the rail lines at Burnley. And just beyond the bridge, in the perfect concealed location, there it was: a booze bus. Cops walking around, bollards out, warning signs telling me to slow down... the whole circus. Yippee! I slowed down. This could be it. Breathe into the bag time. This is Lucky Phil time. At last. Beyond the bus, I could see a car, apparently chased and stopped in a side street by another police car in an apparent escape attempt. My car approached the bus... I slowed down... Looking expectantly for a signal to stop... They were packing up. Damn! Ah well, maybe next time. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - DIARY - Mon 25/5/98 - Another great week I often tell my friends about my quest for the perfect job. This is something we who do contracting can indulge in. Changing jobs every few months, seeing lots of new faces and new work environments means you can do that kind of thing. Compare job A to job B to job C. Okay, so Boss A was a psychopathic megalomaniac, but gave good appraisals, and the view from the window was brilliant. Boss B was terrific, but the pay was miserable and the office was underground. Job C had some great perks, but Boss C managed to stifle every innovative suggestion. You get the idea. Then you can imagine what would happen if Boss A and Boss C were to meet each other in a fight to the death with only staplers as weapons. A day after I started my current job, I was not a happy camper. A cramped desk, in the middle of the main office thoroughfare. No working phone. Only barely acceptable shops within walking distance. And... gasp No e-mail or Web access at work. Shock! Horror!! But to my surprise, this is turning into the most enjoyable job in a long time. Why? For a start, I'm hailed as the guru in my particular area of expertise. I think I'm going to ask them to build a kind of temple for me in the corner, where they can bring offerings for my advice. I'm also getting to try things I've only hitherto dabbled in. Which means I'm learning lots. It's good to keep the ol' grey matter ticking over, you know. If not thoroughly exercised, the brain starts to get kind of rubbery, and you begin lose your ability to umm... concen... whatsername. It's good to keep the ol' grey matter ticking over, you know. So anyhow, now I'm a happy camper after all. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What's that? You've got comments, questions or abuse? Then get replying! If you don't want to receive this mail, and you're wondering why you are, it's because you asked to be subscribed. If you've changed your mind, then send mail to request@toxiccustard.com with the subject "remove". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -- Copyright (c) 1998 Daniel Bowen. Excerpts may be distributed for non- profit purposes provided no modifications are made and this copyright notice is included. -- Daniel Bowen, Custard Communications Pty Ltd, Melbourne, Australia ---------- E-mail: dbowen@custard.net.au ------- TCWF information: info@toxiccustard.com Waste your time here---> http://www.toxiccustard.com <---Waste your time here ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Do not litter Toxic Custard" ===== ==== = = = ==== http://www.toxiccustard.com = = = = = === Number 398, 1/6/97 = ==== ===== = Written by Daniel Bowen TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - DIARY - Sat 30/5/98 - Dead celebs - who's next? Zowee. On Thursday night, I was watching Newsradio on Channel 10. I don't usually watch it, so I'm not familiar with the characters or actors. I was trying to work out where I'd heard one of the actors' voices before. Then I realised and said "Hi, I'm Troy McLure!" What's this got to do with anything? Well, about 12 hours later, watching the morning news, they said the bloke in question, Phil Hartman, was dead. A presumably still is. Zowee. I've been thinking this for a while... somebody should organise betting or some kind of competition on which famous celebrity is going to die next. Okay, so Frank Sinatra probably wasn't too hard to predict given his age and condition, but how about ol' Phil baby, or perhaps Kevin Lloyd? Or Diana? Who foresaw their departure for that great dressing room in the sky? Who'll be next? People could register their predictions and win prizes if they were right. With extra points for correctly guessing the cause of death. Ummm... but being involved in it would have to void your entry. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE YEAR 2031 - Episode 15 Either the whole thing was some kind of elaborate hoax... or there really was, or had been, life on Venus. Most people thought it was a hoax. The whole idea of finding the remains of Venusian litter bin was just too ludicrous to accept. What kind of clowns had NASA sent to Venus? Had they picked two blokes out at random from a competition form printed on the back of boxes of Coke? Oh yeah, they had. Well, there you go then. Okay, so everyone had seen the pictures of Ralph and Chuck, apparently prancing around on Venus. And everyone had seen the pictures of the alleged metal object they had found. And everyone had seen the alleged writing which some crackpot scientists had deduced, with the aid of their alleged computers (probably nothing more than an old Vic 20 plugged into a shoebox full of old transistor radios), was actually writing, which said "DO NOT LITTER." Yeah, right. Pull the other one. But Ralph and Chuck, to their credit, weren't taking any notice of the doubts and criticisms. This was mostly because nobody back at Mission Control had had the heart to tell them. So they kept labouring away with their research, under the misapprehension that they were still regarded by the human race as skilled, brilliant, and extremely virile astronomic superstars. Whereas they were actually regarded by a great deal of the human race as frauds and scumbags. None of their research really discovered anything quite as exciting or controversial as the alleged litter bin, and certainly none of the other things they discovered helped to prove or disprove the existence of life on the planet. Most of it was just about riveting enough to put even the most enthusiastic physicists and geologists and numerous other -ists to sleep. But by the time they were finished two weeks later, most of the experiments had been successfully completed, and all the required samples of dirt had been collected. After the assorted grains of dirt had been thoroughly tested and analysed back on Earth, no doubt they'd go into the flowerboxes of some high up NASA and government officials. They did, of course, pack the remains of the Venusian litter bin, and as the time for departure due near, prepared to head back home to Earth. But nobody, even the most hardened sceptics, was quite prepared for what happened next. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What's that? You've got comments, questions or abuse? Then get replying! Please note: I can't promise you an intelligent reply. If you don't want to receive this mail, and you're wondering why you are, it's because you asked to be subscribed. If you've changed your mind, then send mail to request@toxiccustard.com with the subject "remove". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -- Copyright (c) 1998 Daniel Bowen. Excerpts may be distributed for non- profit purposes provided no modifications are made and this copyright notice is included. -- Daniel Bowen, Custard Communications Pty Ltd, Melbourne, Australia ---------- E-mail: dbowen@custard.net.au ------- TCWF information: info@toxiccustard.com Waste your time here---> http://www.toxiccustard.com <---Waste your time here ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Bearded Toxic Custard" ===== ==== = = = ==== http://www.toxiccustard.com = = = = = === Number 399 = ==== ===== = Written by Daniel Bowen TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES 8/6/98 DIARY - Sun 7/6/98 - Don't vote for nutbags With a week to go until the Queensland elections, here's my blatant unsolicited political opinion: Put Hanson's One Nation last. Why? Why do I dislike her so much? It's not so much her winning combination of complaining about how bad things are but not providing any practical suggestions for fixing anything... it's not her downright bloody stupid opinions about gun control, native rights, welfare, multiculturalism and the price of fish... it's not her managing almost single-handedly to stir up racist sentiment all around the country... Nope, it's that bloody snivelling whiny voice of hers! The way it starts to break up the moment she's under any kind of pressure because someone has dared to doubt any of her most doubtful statements. She sounds like she's going to burst into tears if she doesn't get her way. So put Hanson last. Keep whiny, whingeing, stupid people out of parliament. DIARY - Mon 8/6/98 - To shave, or not to shave? This long weekend, I've taken my wife's suggestion and left the shaver in the drawer. I'm trying out life with a beard. Not much of a beard, yet, I hasten to add. At the moment it just looks like a severe case of non-designer stubble. I guess provided it doesn't look too hideous tomorrow morning when I have to go back to work, I won't shave it off. Let it keep growing until I have a reasonable-sized hairy mass on my face, and I can judge whether or not I want to keep it. There's nothing I'd like better than to get a picture to post up on this web page to show the world the progress of this facial hair invasion, but the video camera has broken down yet again. So I can't. You'll just have to imagine, if you feel so inclined. Also new this week: My nutty neighbour... http://www.toxiccustard.com/diary/1998/06.html#5/6/98 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TOXIC CUSTARD GUIDE TO AUSTRALIA Brett, USA: I would like to know the postage rate of mailing postcards from Australia to USA. Also, is it possible to get prepaid (from Australia to USA) postcards mailed to me prior to my trip so I'll have them on hand when I travel to Australia? Australia Post, who unlike their US counterparts, are not known for having ex-employees return to the workforce with a grudge, a firearm and more rounds of ammunition than is healthy, will deliver a postcard across the pond for 95 Australian cents. In US dollars, given the pathetic performance of the Aussie dollar right now, this is something like USD$0.57. The postcards themselves normally cost somewhere between AUD$0.50 and AUD$1.20, depending on size and grooviness. And as for prepaid postcards... uhhh... let me get this straight: You want to get some postcards sent from Australia to the USA, so you can carry them back to Australia, where you can then mail them to the USA? Think of how confused the poor postcard is going to be. Furthermore, wouldn't you prefer to make the choices of which postcards of the enormous range available you'd like to buy, by seeing them in person? Preferably after you've seen some of the things in the postcard? Did you want to write the postcards before you got here, too? "I reckon Australia's going to be a great place. I'll wish you were there." Or is this some kind of plot to pretend to people you've been to Australia when actually you're saving thousands of dollars and going to Disneyworld instead? Lisa: I'm planning to visit Australia soon, and am looking around for some really good Australian music to get me in the mood. What do you recommend? (Note: I've read most of your site, so be aware that I trust you absolutely!) So you trust me absolutely? In that case, let me tell you about a really great investment opportunity. All you need to do is send me all your money... Some of the Australian music that I really like includes the legendary Paul Kelly (now touring North America, see if you can catch him), Deborah Conway, Hunters And Collectors (defunct), Crowded House (defunct), Things Of Stone And Wood, You Am I, Custard, silverchair (oh, don't you hate these people who insist on starting their name with a lower case letter?), Weddings Parties Anything... There's heaps. Check the Australian Music Web Site - www.amws.com.au (I trust the cheque's in the mail, Eva) for the full list. I have no idea how many of these are available outside Australia, by the way. But thanks to the miracle of the Web, you can listen to several local radio stations online. I don't know why, but a lot of Americans seem to think Chumbawamba are Australian. They're not. Not everybody with a weird accent is Australian! For more Web links related to these answers, for more questions and answers, and to ask your own questions, head to http://www.toxiccustard.com/australia/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What's that? You've got comments, questions or abuse? Then get replying! Please note: I can't promise you an intelligent reply. If you don't want to receive this mail, and you're wondering why you are, it's because YOU asked to be subscribed. If you've changed your mind, then send mail to request@toxiccustard.com with the subject "remove". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -- Copyright (c) 1998 Daniel Bowen. Excerpts may be distributed for non- profit purposes provided no modifications are made and this copyright notice is included. -- Daniel Bowen, Custard Communications Pty Ltd, Melbourne, Australia ---------- E-mail: dbowen@custard.net.au ------- TCWF information: info@toxiccustard.com Waste your time here---> http://www.toxiccustard.com <---Waste your time here ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Explosive Toxic Custard" [Warning: This issue contains coarse language] ***** **** * * ***** TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES * * * * * **** Number 400, 15/6/97 Written by Daniel Bowen * **** ***** * http://www.toxiccustard.com THE YEAR 2031 - Episode 16 The countdown was complete. Ralph and Chuck held tightly onto their seats, as their trusty craft Penis I lifted off, to take them home from Venus. A computer hiccupped. Ralph looked to see what it was. The rocket kept climbing. Ralph read the monitor. Amongst a screenful of technical gibberish, which only goes to prove how horrible a computer screen can look when the engineers have free reign for a day because the useability specialist is off sick, was a warning. The warning, in some of the most complex language ever devised, was about a fierce gas storm in the upper atmosphere of the planet. It was big, it was smelly, and it was spreading, and unless they decided to stop and slink back to the surface now, there was no avoiding it. Chuck, with his superhuman strength and minuscule brain capacity, wasn't too concerned, because he didn't understand what was going on. But Ralph did. They would reach the outer edges of the rapidly expanding gas storm in 6 seconds, and when the rocket's exhaust, which consisted of a bloody big fireball like output, hit the gas... Six seconds can pass remarkably fast in space, especially when like Ralph, you're juggling lots of complex and worrying thoughts in your mind. The nose of the rocket entered the gas storm first. And about a fifth of a second later, they were surrounded by it. A microsecond after that, the gas sniffed its way around to the rocket exhaust. Ralph and Chuck didn't know what happened next. The inferno that engulfed virtually the whole planet propelled the craft a few million kilometres in such a small time that Ralph and Chuck blacked out. When they came to, they almost thought they'd done an Icarus. Where Venus had been was a huge planet-sized ball of fire. Mission Control was on the radio, demanding a response and screaming something about none of their remote instruments working and what were the TV producers and their lawyers going to do if they lost their coverage. They also wanted to know where the extra sun had come from. Chuck let them know they were still alive and kicking, and joined Ralph, watching in awe the flames dancing around the now distant planet. They shut off the engines and watched for a while. Have no idea what's going on, and want to read the previous episodes? http://www.toxiccustard.com/features/2031/ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - DIARY - Sun 14/6/98 - A hairy situation Well, the beard continues to grow. Not really what you'd call a full beard yet, but getting there. The weird bit is looking in the mirror, and taking a second or two to realise it's you. And whenever I'm at my desk, leaning on my chin, I end up fondling it. I'll keep it for the moment, let it grow another week, then decide. Unless I spot a grey hair - in that case, I may just freak out and immediately shave the whole thing into oblivion. ...Meanwhile... Somehow I never thought that plucking nose hair could be quite as painful as it's reputed to be. From time to time I've used a pair of tweezers we have in the house which are extremely good for plucking, to take out various rogue hairs that I've noticed on my face just after shaving. This morning, I was just making sure the beard hadn't sprouted anywhere it shouldn't, when I noticed the alarming length of some of my nose hair. Okay, so it's not actually flowing out of my nostrils and joining the moustache, but it's definitely visible. I thought I could see a few loose hairs, and wondered what would happen if I tried to pluck them. My hand, with the tweezers, moved up towards them. I gripped a couple of the hairs and... pull. Oh, shit! Oh, fucking hell! Jesus Christ! I'm sorry if you feel offended by this use of coarse language, but if you've ever tried plucking your own nostril hair, you'll know it's entirely justified. Saying "Gosh, that hurt quite a lot", just doesn't cut it. The term "pain" is barely adequate to describe the sensation. It's more like an urgent emergency crisis signal, sent direct to the brain, then out again to all parts of the body. A bit like a tiny epileptic attack, the whole body goes into a little spasm, and you spend the next ten minutes asking yourself why you were so stupid to even try it. Needless to say, I won't be trying that again in a hurry. The diary archives - http://www.toxiccustard.com/diary/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Comments? Questions? Huge donations? Then reply now! If you don't want to receive this junk, and you're wondering why you are, it's because YOU asked to be subscribed. If you no longer want it, then send mail to request@toxiccustard.com with the subject "remove". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -- Copyright (c) 1998 Daniel Bowen. Excerpts may be distributed for non- profit purposes provided no modifications are made and this copyright notice is included. -- Daniel Bowen, Custard Communications Pty Ltd, Melbourne, Australia ---------- E-mail: dbowen@custard.net.au ------- TCWF information: info@toxiccustard.com Waste your time here---> http://www.toxiccustard.com <---Waste your time here ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Toxic Custard Workshop Files - http://www.toxiccustard.com - is Copyright (c) 1998 Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia. Excerpts may be distributed without charge provided no modifications are made and this notice is appended. For subscription and back-issue information, send email to info@toxiccustard.com