Quiet after the Storm

Photograph of a broken umbrella, lying next to a car on a dark street.

The worst storm in 40 years, someone said. An elderly couple dead after their car was washed off a bridge. A ship run aground.

Tattered umbrellas litter the streets like so many dead jellyfish. Like this one on Victoria Street, Potts Point last night, blood-red under the sodium lamps.

Stay at home, it may last a while, they’re telling us. Severe weather warning… flash flooding… hazardous winds… damaging surf… gale warning for coastal waters and closed waters. Yeah, I get the picture.

Right now there’s no real wind, though. There’s just the gentle sound of steady rain. And that always provides such a quiet, contemplative mood — even if it is only 13C outside. It’s perfect for cups of tea, re-stacking papers, reading… writing… apparently even relaxing is allowed on a long weekend.

Last night we all knew it was a bad storm, but we still went out. That’s amazing. Our trust in electric trains, the internal combustion engine and the electricity grid is such that mere Primal Nature in All Her Fury is no match.

Our salmon was perfectly grilled, the chilli sauce on our lamb was phenomenal. The wines, from both McLaren Vale and Victoria, were well-blended, subtle. Later, the performer was more than adequately entertaining. The front bar was rowdy but welcoming at the same time. There were smiles, laughter. And then a cheerful Pakistani lad drove me home in some sort of heated pod with chairs for a little over $20.

Outside, the stormed raged on. We were all but oblivious as our urban lives continued unabated.

Ah yes! I love being Homo sapiens! Mammals rock.

London 2012 fails to understand

I’ve just come back from Webjam 3, so this may explain my direct language. But I’ve just posted the following at London 2012, which won’t be published either:

You spineless turds! If you’re going to have a blog and ask for comments and pretend to be “with it with the hip young folk on the Internet”, at least have the intestinal fortitude to face the reality of those comments. Particularly when we go to the bother of giving you our names and email addresses and are prepared to stand behind our words. Or even just send a boilerplate email to acknowledge us.

London 2012 didn’t publish either of my comments, and probably won’t publish this one either. Here’s what they said instead:

We have received many comments that reflect the tenor of negative comments found elsewhere on the web. Rather than act as an echo chamber we have published a selection here that say something a little different.

“A little different” as in “Off in some fantasy land where people actually think your branding is good.”

Guys, at this point you really only have two options:

  • Change the brand. “Oh, we didn’t predict that reaction. Sorry, we’ll have another go.” You’re now the Olympics which listened to the public, and you come out of it looking good.
  • Stay with the brand. “Oh, well, we can’t change it now because [insert credible reason].” You’ll still look lame, but at least we’ll understand.

I reckon “credible reasons” could include “We don’t have the budget to re-do it” or “There isn’t time”. Hey, we understand. Time marches on, this is what we’ve got to work with, it’s not ideal, but hey, shit happens… We’ve all been there, and we sympathise. It’s a cop-out and your branding is still shite but, yeah, we know, snafu.

But if you expect us to give you any respect at all, at least be honest. Have someone put their name to this and fix it. One way or the other.