Back in the land of Oz...

My three-month sabbatical is over, and yesterday Jess and I returned home to Australia.

And I beg the question - where the sun at? Who gave permission for winter to be happening? And what is with all of this green grass?? I don't remember that from before I left.

All I know is that Australia has become a weird, scary place in the time that I've been gone... And it looks like Tony's got some fixin' to do.

Jimmie Johnson's penis

Alright, follow me on this one. I'm in a condo in Hawai'i. I've had some beers, I've got a beautiful view of Waikiki out the window and a balcony to sit back on and cackle about the wonders of my life.

...But all I can think about is how upset I am over Jimmie Johnson's ExtenZe ad. In it, he claims that, despite his success as a coach and a broadcaster, the question he gets asked most often is if ExtenZe (a sexual stimulant) really works. I call balls on that one. If I saw Jimmie Johnson walking down the street, I would not enthusiastically approach him with the sole intention of asking him if his medicine gives him an erection. Really. I mean, where does the conversation go from there? It'd be like meeting Arnold Schwarzenegger and grilling him solely on an age-old nude photo I found one unfortunate, blustery night while flipping through the pages of an old Playboy mag.

Not to mention, now I can't stop thinking about Jimmie Johnson's unit. With a black and white Arnie standing nearby, proudly flexing. What a horrible, unusual problem to be having while on holiday in Hawai'i.

...And now, I'm thinking about how Arnie follows me on Twitter. And I feel guilty for every crass thing I say on Twitter - every swear, every bold statement, every snide remark... And now, the naked, monotone Arnold is shaking his head in disapproval. But still, Jimmie Johnson seems unfazed, giving away his apparently redundant Super Bowl rings, standing proud and tall in more ways than one.

Blogs like this are unfortunate. But I can make them, because nobody reads it. Tonight, Jimmie Johnson's penis. Tomorrow... who knows?

...What about that Guy?

Call me crazy for spending my last day here in Courtenay making a blog entry, and call me crazy for making a blog entry about the Pro Football Hall of Fame in August, but there's a growing concern I have for parity in the selection process of the HOF.

It's a well-known fact that, if you want to be a contender for the Hall, your best bet is to play quarterback or offensive line. In the modern era alone, there are 23 HOF QBs, ranging from Y.A. Tittle and his career QB rating of 73.6 to Terry Bradshaw, career QB rating of 70.9. We'll forgive the former considering the age he played in, and we'll chalk up the latter's career success to the strength of the Steelers of the 70s. I know, I know... You'll fault me for taking shots at a man whose strength lied in his grit and ability to win when it counted. But what I'm saying is, as long as you win as a QB, all the rest will be forgotten.

Success, or even statistics, does not however, mean that everyone is viewed as equal in the selection process. How many offensive players are there in the HOF? 160. Defensive? 68. Special teamers? 1.

Jan Stenerud is the only 'pure' kicker to be in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Only two kickers were nominated in the preliminary round of Hall of Famers for 2010. Neither of them made it to the semifinals. One of them, Gary Anderson, had 2,434 career points scored - second-most of all time, and 432 more points than hall of famer George Blanda.


But I'm not here to argue who's the better kicker. ...It's obviously Anderson - Blanda was only 335 for 641 attempts, but Blanda was the better everything else. Right. Sorry.

If the Pro Football Hall of Fame is about enshrining the best players, there is one glaring omission. Because there was one man who truly dominated his position like no other, one man who epitomised the prototypical player of the position, and one who, had he played on offence, would have been the equivalent to Jerry Rice and Emmitt Smith this year - a HOF lock.

That man is Ray Guy.

Drafted in the first round of the 1973 draft, Ray Guy would go on to have arguably the most prolific career for a pure punter. His pedigree (as per the ocassionally reliable Wikipedia) includes:

Played in 207 consecutive games
Punted 1,049 times for 44,493 yards, averaging 42.4 yards per punt, with a 33.8 net yards average
Had 210 punts inside the 20 yard line (not counting his first 3 seasons, when the NFL did not keep track of this stat), with just 128 touchbacks
Led the NFL in punting three times
Had a streak of 619 consecutive punts before having one blocked
Has a record of 111 career punts in post season games
Had five punts of over 60 yards during the 1981 season
Never had a punt returned for a touchdown

Statistically, the man is rock solid. And as for success? You best believe he had it. As Wikipedia claims:

7× Pro Bowl selection (1973, 1974, 1975, 1976, 1977, 1978, 1980)
6× First-team All-Pro selection (1973, 1974, 1975, 1976, 1977, 1978)
2× Second-team All-Pro Selection (1979, 1980)
3× Super Bowl champion (XI, XV, XVIII)
NFL's 75th Anniversary Team
NFL 1970s All-Decade Team
Mississippi Sports Hall of Fame
Georgia Sports Hall of Fame
College Football Hall of Fame

If this league is all about rings, Guy's got his. He's also been honoured on nearly every other level of recognition. Put simply, if I had to pick one pure punter from league history, it would be Ray Guy.

Are punters as important as any other position in the game of football? No. I can't claim that they are; they're arguably the most expendable of the positions (except perhaps fullback, and I hate that fact too!). Can they win games for you? Why yes, they can, actually. Field position is recognised as a crucial aspect of the game, though somehow it's the return men who get the kudos for this most of the time.
Pro Football Hall of Fame historian Joe Horrigan said of Guy, "He's the first punter you could look at and say, 'He won games'."

It's a crying shame. Ray Guy has been eligible for 19 years, and he doesn't seem any closer now than he did any other year. It's also an unfortunate foretelling of what will likely happen to fellow Oakland Raider Shane Lechler when his time comes, and a damning confirmation that my boy Craig Hentrich will most likely never come close to Canton.

There are many factors to blame. Sammy Baugh, for one, had great statistical success as a punter, but would he have ever been enshrined had he not been the multi-position threat that he was, ala Blanda? Probably not. But the thing is, because of guys like Blanda and Baugh, who played multiple positions; in the minds of selectors, kickers and punters have their representatives in the HOF.

To others, though, sometimes we wonder how much of the selection process lies in simple starry-eyed adoration, as opposed to credentials and genuine superiority at what they do? It's for these reasons that I celebrate Desmond Howard's Super Bowl XXXI MVP all those years ago, and still attest, and will do until my death, that the MVP of Super Bowl XLI should not have been Peyton Manning, but oft-forgotten Dominic Rhodes (21 carries for 113 yards and a TD). He may not be a special teamer, but he's a little guy who made it happen.

...And speaking of little guys who made it happen, there's another fellow who will be eligible for the Pro Football Hall of Fame next year. At the professional level, he had three championships, 369 touchdowns (three more than Peyton Manning), 58,179 passing yards (6,704 more than John Elway) and an unheralded six MVP awards.


You may say this means jack all in the NFL, but last I checked, it was called the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

Stay tuned...

1990's

Consider it an insipid thing to consider (hehe, that sentence was fun), but the main thing I've been thinking about for the last few hours was the fantastic things of my childhood - namely, video games. And I was thinking about making retro reviews and crap, but of course those things are a dime a dozen.

Like the website X-Entertainment. Doesn't get updated that much these days, but that website was awesome. Anyway...

Maybe when I get back from my trip, I'll chuck in the reviews and stuff. Yeah, isn't it amazing that I should be on holiday and this is what I've been thinking about, but whatever. Jess is yelling at me now. Perhaps I'll go.

Metro 'Punctuality'

I know I bitch about trains a lot, but when you have to catch multiple trains on nearly a daily basis, you begin to observe things. Besides, it's my blog and I'll cry if I want to. I'm fairly sure I'm the only person who reads it anyway, peering at the words I typed months ago and giggling to myself in the dark recesses of my lair (or, in today's case, the dreary yet sunny light of day from within a train, funnily enough).

Today, I bring to you my first offer of discontent against Metro, the new big wigs behind the metropolitan train system. In actuality, I have really preferred Metro to the detestable Connex. Primarily, because I've noticed more ticket inspectors on more services, and they don't seem to be on a power trip like the Connex scum of old. I'm aware that some Connex staff were in fact held over in the change to Metro, so in all honesty, it may even be the same group of ticket inspectors, but I feel as though Metro has instilled in them a philosophy of treating passengers like human beings, with courtesy and politeness. A far cry from Connex's infrequent, useless and rude customer service team - I was assaulted on a Connex service and they did nothing. They later charged me $200 for being without my concession card.

Metro have been under fire for poor train reliability, and when you look at the figures, in plain sight at the very train stations they service, the numbers are staggering. As near as I recall, the punctuality rate for Metro trains in March was 80.7%. Good lord!
I don't recall seeing a figure that low since the Black Saturday period.

This number is possibly misleading, because the figures for train replacement bus services is hidden - they include bus services in the 'services delivered' section, yet I'm unsure whether they consider the extra time a bus service adds in the 'punctuality' department. So in effect, punctuality could be even lower than advertised.

Rather than reflect too much on that though, I pose to you a thought, and it really shows what kind of inefficiency we have accepted in our public transport system. According to Metro, for a service to run 'on time', it must be within five minutes of its advertised time of arrival. Five minutes in public transport can be a very long time, you know. Five minutes can mean the difference between whether you miss a connecting train, tram or bus, and arrive 20 minutes late for work. Yet, statistically for all to see, Metro's five minute wiggle room service gets the gold stamp of 'punctuality'.

Tell me, in your job or at your school, is five minutes late considered on time? No. Five minutes is just that. Late. And if you were late by greater than five minutes 80.7% of the time, you would be looking for another job.
The authority figures in your world don't accept such transgressions on your part. Don't accept it from your public transport system.

Tony's Picnic

Alrighty, since my mind is full of fewer witticisms and more unnecessary verbiage, I'll keep this brief. After all, the fact that in the first sentence I've already used 'witticisms' and 'verbiage' suggests that I'm only trying to show off.

SO!

It seems as though I may finally have my first bit of national exposure. It's not much, but it's a definite stepping stone in what was once a non-existent career.

You know those 'It's no Picnic' ads, where you have some sod trying to down a Picnic bar in 30 seconds? I fondly remember tense moments of the Super Bowl being brought to a relaxed calm by the futile efforts of some curly haired dude trying to down hisself a Picnic.

Anyhow, it seems that your old chum Tony had a crack at it, and they've seen fit to broadcast it on the telly. Isn't that something magical?

So I ask - nay, DEMAND - that y'all be watching Your Generation on the 28th of February (2 days away!!) on Channel 10, 19:30-20:30. I don't know if this is outside of Melbourne, but any distant fans I may have (I'm sure there's at least one lonely soul out there, stroking the hair of a scalp he acquired one dark chilly night as he bellows for a terrified young lady to 'put the lotion on its skin') might as well tune in anyway in the vague attempt at seeing my ad as well.

What happens from here? Who knows. I'm already in the schmoozing process with a few different people here and there, though admittedly I'm not very good at it and likely the only impression I leave is one of utter ineptitude. In any event, I'm excited to finally get my mug on TV, chomping furiously away at a Picnic bar. ...Do I achieve the unbelievable, and actually down the chocolate bar within the space of the ad break?

Well I suppose you'll have to watch yourself and find out...

...

...

!

Further myki (anti)developments

http://www.theage.com.au/national/caution-urged-for-travellers-who-take-the-myki-on-trams-20100128-n1pp.html
Caution urged for travellers who take the myki on trams

The headline is telling, isn't it? Take caution if you're using myki on a tram. Take caution... for using the new ticketing system like you're supposed to. It's never fun to be right in the face of futility, but already, myki is deliciously ludicrous. If a system isn't ready to be in use yet, then perhaps there shouldn't be big, bold signs around stations declaring 'myki is here', right next to the large machines to sell these things that you shouldn't even be using?

The article contains...

Myki equipment is operational on trams, with more than 1000 people officially testing the system. The Government is now aware, through social media sites, that some commuters are using myki on trams.

Ticket inspectors have been issued with myki card readers and it is understood people caught using myki on trams will be advised not to.

People are... getting caught using myki. It's like it's a crime, for goodness sake! So is the government telling us not to use myki, or telling us to buy myki for our train trips, and then buy an additional Metcard for tram use?!

The fact that some commuters were using myki cards on trams ''shows a lot of people do want to be able to use the one ticket on trains, trams and buses,'' Mr Bowen said.

...As opposed to wanting to pay for two separate tickets. Pardon the crassness, but no shit, Sherlock.

New Public Transport Minister Martin Pakula has said he expects myki to be up and running on trams and buses by the end of the year. Transport Ticketing Authority spokeswoman Jean Ker Walsh said myki was not valid for use on trams.

So if you want to actually use myki in an efficient way, you'll have to wait yet another year. Such a shame for the poor folks who have already gotten one, isn't it? First they force this system down our throat, then they swiftly yank it from our gullet, leaving us choking on worthless money we've already invested into it.

And finally, this tidbit here is something I particularly like -

Meanwhile, documents released to the State Opposition under freedom of information laws show that the Government paid $1.2 million to change the screens of myki validators from black and white to colour.

..."The change was made to myki readers to help people who have a vision impairment see the on-screen information,'' [Ker Walsh] said.

Implication that the vision impaired need to see how myki tells them to swipe their card. Implication that it's important that people are given false information, since we are now being instructed not to swipe our card on trams. This isn't just hilariously inept, but dangerously inept, particularly for someone who uses as much public transport as myself.

Although I did foresee myki's introduction being a bumpy, sloppy ride, I didn't foresee the government having the gall to declare its use as the mistake of the public. That right there, is so rich, it's downright creamy.

S. A.

I remember back in the days when Myspace was all the rage. Back then, my blog was in its glory days, because it was a prominent feature on a popular page. Tragically, Myspace is a ghost town these days, and the times when I curiously stumble upon that old graveyard on the off chance that I might have any new notifications, I usually find it's some band who wants me to become a fan. Are those things spam? I consider them spam, so I mark them as such. Tony could be directly at fault for the downfall of the music industry.

Anyhow, my blog was once a great little opportunity to shamelessly advertise all of my upcoming performances, and though Facebook's events is no doubt a superior medium for making a performance a night out, I still miss my little advertisement blogs. I miss my blog as a whole, now relegated to an actual blogging site where I have no connections. Without connections, my blog relies solely on the strength of its content in order to garner any interest. ...And clearly, judging by the fact that I haven't really noticed any interest at all, my content is shithouse.

Right then. Advertising.

Having left the wild world of amateur theatre behind me, it's a bit harder to catch up on your dose of Tony, seeing as I've gone from the front of the stage to a quiet corner tucked away in the back of films, but I've recently come off recording my bit for a radio play that I'd love for anyone out there to hear.

It's called Fantasbojou, and I take the reigns of Ashley, a camp hip-hop artist. You can listen in on the Spoken Word on Thursday, 4th February at 9 am. 3CR Community radio, 855AM. So be sure to listen, for otherwise my gay little guy may fall to the wayside. And we can't have that, now can we?

Auditions: a necessary evil

Have you ever directed something before? Odds are, if you frequent the theatre world, you have. Cripes, even I've directed once before, and lord knows I was dreadful at it. But what I'm getting at here, is that if you've directed, or at least been part of the casting process, or even if you've just done a group audition before, you'll have seen a bad audition.

You know the kind. The one that you're watching, and you think to yourself - 'are you serious?', where you feel embarassed for them, and once they've left the room, you exchange a few glances with others around you, mystified by the tragic display you were just privy to. I don't audition well, I know that, but at least in the theatre circuit, I've auditioned at least well enough to land a few key roles here and there. Some auditions have been better than others, and for some I've been so woefully unprepared that I probably didn't deserve the role (ie. Demetrius; an audition carried only by the strength of my improv).

Now that I'm fleshing out into the unknown world of TV and film auditions, I'm branching into uncharted territory, without the familiar faces who regularly frequented HTC Youth. And in this time, I've done a few bad auditions. Some so bad, that I walked away knowing that it'd be a cold day in hell before I appeared in front of their cameras.

Today, however, was something else. Today, I pulled off one of those infamous 'WTF' auditions. I came early, first to audition, and left as the one who'd make them fear a long day lied ahead as they crumpled up my details form and flung it in the vague direction of the garbage bin.
It was, and people who know me will find this hilarious, an audition for an automotive company commercial. Yes, a car company.
I've seen less time behind the wheel than Maggie Simpson, and yet there I was, toting the claim that I could 'give a genuine performance'.

Handily enough, I was going for the role of the confused customer, seeking help with my car. Before beginning, the gentleman in charge asked me what kind of car I drove. Panic crossed my face, and he then swapped over to asking what kind of car I drove in Canada. This was no doubt my last shot; the next question was likely - 'why in the hell are you auditioning for a car commercial?'
I hastily declared that I drove my dad's car around the mean streets of Courtenay.
'What kind of car?' he asked.
'...A Dodge.' my eventual response.
His next question included the term '4.0' and the type of gas it used, and I was dead out of luck. He kindly informed me that their particular advertising company also did ads for other products, so even if I didn't land this role (code for when I don't land the role), I can be considered for future projects. Great. So I'm basically fighting for my future with this entire company on this one ad, armed with nothing but an imaginary Dodge.

'Hi,' the gentleman said, playing the employee, 'How can I help you today?'
'Yeah, I've got a Dodge, and... I'm having issues with it, I'm just lost, man.' Truer words never said in an audition.
'Alright then, what kind of engine is it? 4.0 or...'
'Umm yeah, not too sure. It's my dad's, and... Yeah.'
'Do you know what kind of oil does it take? Synthetic or natural?'
'Natural, I think... I hope. I mean, that's what I'm putting in there.'

The light on the camera goes off, and the gentleman thanks me. He says he got the vibe of what I'm trying to do. He gives me the warmest, most sympathetic smile I've ever received, and thanked me for coming. His seated cohort had an expression better suited to the performance I had just given, and I departed. Nearly went out the wrong exit, too, just lucky I stalled with my iPhone while actually scanning for the proper exit. It would have actually been rather appropriate to have thrown open a door, and been buried under a comical barrage of brooms. Or an anvil. But I don't think they had anvils in their closets.

To my credit, I no doubt made the next dude look like a superstar, and the only future role I could secure with that company would be as the 'before' clip for an acting school.
Oh well. You're bound to have a stinker every now and then, and theoretically, there's nowhere to go from here but up. Unless the next audition relies on the strength of my knowledge on brain surgery or the history of cricket. If that were the case, I'd just get into my Dodge and drive away as fast as I can.