Shane Smith.

Lately I’ve been addicted to the Vice Broadcasting Service (vbs.tv). Not only have they been responsible for epic movies like Heavy Metal in Baghdad, but they relentlessly travel the world showing you places you’d never thought you’d see in your life. I’m talking Liberia, the sewer kids of Colombia, heavy metal mobs on Aboriginal reservations; they literally know now bounds! It’s beyond gonzo journalism or ever war correspondence. They take you to places where war technically hasn’t stopped for 50 years like North Korea. Brining very nicely to the point of this blog: Shane Smith.

Somehow after years of working for a faceless corporate behemoth, I’ve found North Korea both bizarre and strangely intruiging. Perhaps all those bland grey office partitions have got me in the communist mind set. Whatever the reason, I found a Youtube video of Shane Smith going through North Korea as a clandestine filmmaker. I’m assuming that when he went through customs, he did not have to declare the watermelon sized balls he has on one of those arrivals forms.  It seems at no stage of this journey was there no sense of danger. Posing as tourists, at each corner their minders are warning them of the dangers of their actions.

The legend.

So after seeing the North Korea video a few times (it’s just that out there) and Smith’s trip to Liberia it got me thinking. OK so the guy has watermellon sized balls and thus pretty cool. Then he’s got these features of someone we know and love. So there’s no tell tale warts on the face, but the shortish beard and sideburns and long, greasy looking rock and roll hair. Is Shane the bastard child of Lemmy Kilmister? Quite possibly. After all if Vice is a rock and roll version of TV’s 60 minutes, it’s got to be a little close to the Motorhead ethos?! See for yourself with the photos above and below. For those of you not familiar with Kilmister’s work, Lemmy is Mr Heavy Metal. A title which should make him a complete egotistical douche a la Gene Simmons, but actually a complete gentleman and all round awesome bloke.

There are a few things that are wrong with this picture though. Note the scarf Shane’s wearrning which is totally un-metal. Oh and in his profile, he admits to signing the Bloc Party to his label. Even if he is Lemmy’s bastard son, he would still be hung at dawn for that in my book. At the very least, daddy Kilmister should give his kid a hiding for it! Anyway check out Motorhead and Vice TV for youself. Make your own mind up.

Lemmy - all smellier than everything else.

Walk past any pharmacy or the cosmetic section of any department store and you will be inundated. As if we can’t get enough of Shitney Spears and Gwen Stefani in the general zeitgeist, we need to apparently smell like them. Everyone from Ewan McGregor to Kylie Minogue now has their own fragrance – yours for just a few hundred bucks. It seems celebrities themselves have become brands; bright, shiny objects for our mass appeal and consumption.

Frankly this whole thing is pathetic and I have an idea to turn it on its arse: Lemmy the fragrance. It will come in a hip flask made of old German World War Two surplus with a big German eagle on it. Forget high notes of Brazilian Sandalwood and patchouli, Lemmy the fragrance smells of denim, leather cowboy boots, Malboro Reds, Jack Daniels and Coke, sweat covered Marshall amps and fresh amphetamines. This is a fragrance, finally, that will melt knickers and scare small children.

For those who don’t like wearing Lemmy the fragrance, you can have it with Coke on ice. Or for the die hard, it will come in a snortable form. Either way, you’re never going to end up in some poncey hip hop bar wearing this stuff and it should help rid the shelves of the next Paris Hilton fragrance which probably would smell of chlamydia and wet patch.  Oh yeah and it would make Lemmy live on forever, which seems inevitable anyway.

What more could you ask for? Willy Nelson the fragrance? Well that would be the smell of smoking a spliff at your grandfather’s house which limits its potential. So Lemmy shall have to do.

Even this is better than the latest Nickelcrack CD

Only a pragmatist could love a Porsche, pure and simple. Some are born so pragmatic that even as a small boy, a Lamborghini or a Ferrari is just not practical enough. In the words of Jeremy Clarkson in his Top Gear editorial, Porsches are for people who were caught masturbating as children. Well to elaborate those with far too much shame that were caught masturbating as children. Thank you Mr Clarkson.

There’s an even worse kind of person. Those that justify any awfulness, say the new (or any) Nickelback CD with “well they’ve sold millions of CDs so someone likes them”. As if to say any kind of mediocrity can be justified with popularity and a blinding dose of pragmatism. If the title of this blog hasn’t left you wondering, I’m not one of those people. I don’t like medicore pop masquerading as rock, and I have been caught in the act enough times to simply smile and think of England.

Even as a small child, I never liked Porsches. Not when my uncle came back from Targa Tasmania (as a navigator), describing them as ‘porches’ that mostly ended up in the ditches and ravines of Tasmania because of the inept accountants driving them. For the record, I’ve tried to like Audis. But there’s an A4 brochure on my desk that is so boring it makes me want to cause self harm with the sharp cardboard pages. Only Audi could make 18″ wheels mind numbingly, Nickelback-latest-single, arsebleedingly boring. Boring enough to make me glad I didn’t become a CPA or go through med school and work in IT after all.

Germans being Germans though, Audi can’t hold a candle to Porsche. Because with their Porsche configurator (find the ‘build your Porsche’ link on the front page), they burn the German anally retentive candle at both ends in a reckless display of specification autism. With the clinical precision of a surgeon, you can select from 17 exterior colours. All of them selected by your mum to match your underwear in case you do crash it (and you will because you’re a bloody dentist) so you look respectible as the ambos pull you out of a ditch. They’re about as screamy and bombastic as Bill Gates with a seven three part in his hair held back with Brylcream.

Fortunately for Porsche fans, the mothering doesn’t stop there. If option b doesn’t go with option a (and yes Porsche fans, I know they’re in the wrong order) a mummy message pops up demanding you make a more appropriate selection – immediately. Once you’ve spec’d your dream car, spending more on options than you do the car as all Germans cars require, the final step reads ‘notification’. What it really means is ‘quick call your mum and make sure she’s OK with it first. Those options might take someone’s eye out!’. Then mazel tov baby, your new Porsche is here!

Honestly except for keeping half of KPMG and PriceWaterHouseCoopers aroused, this is the most pointless waste of bandwidth ever since the Australian Commonwealth Internet Public Toilet Finder. It has only accomplished one thing – despite Porsche winning over James May, Richard Hammond, even Jay K from Jamiroquai, I’ve never had more resolve to loathe Porsches. They are for people who have no real measure of success other than the status quo, so as not to offend anyone.

There is however one thing the configurator is good for. If you ever induldge in amphetamines, next time instead of binging on Sudoku or crossword puzzles, or obscessively cleaning, configure your Porsche! Guaranteed 12 teeth grinding hours later, you would have found every permutation of the most pragmatic, miss-the-point supercar on earth. At least it will keep nasty speed freaks off of the streets. But seriously, get a life dentist boy.

In a rare, infact unprecedented display of solidarity, even my fiance agrees that the following is the most irrelevant and self indulgent editorial in the history of car magazines:

“This is a motoring magazine, I know. But it has to be said that suicide, no matter how galantly potrayed and noble in Seven Pounds should have no place in the real world… I have to say this because I know how influential movies with big names can be, and I know there are quite a number of folks who read this magazine, even the younger susceptible set. So again, suicide, however ‘worthy’ the cause is and will always be wrong. There, I said it.”

It’s almost a moot point that if he cares for the younger, more ’susceptible’ readers maybe he wouldn’t overtly go out of his way to alienate those who are in a bad place. Let alone waste valuable magazine space with his degrading opinion. I can’t wait until next week when he shares his opinion on gays and abortion. A quick reminder Top Gear, why do people read car mags? For completely NEUTRAL, unopinionated escapist romp in tarmac fantasy-land. That’s why. And with one incredibly arrogant and self indulgent, completely socially irresponsible statement he destroys all that, and any credibility his magazine may have had. It’s bad taste and completely bad form.

To be honest, I am very close to mental health care professionals and have recently experienced a friend’s suicide. Irrespective of both those points, Cheah’s comments are still completely nonconstructive and completely distasteful.

Oh and it gets better. Letter of the month goes to some local boy who tells some sob story about losing his girl on Valentines Day. A letter so pathetic that the writer basically states he wants his letter published to boost his ego. Perhaps this is down to cultural differences, but this was just pathetic. Donald gives him a pep talk and offers him a Teh Tarik (”pull tea” – a Malaysian beverage). So now we’ve gone from judgmental, to the ‘pussification’ (thanks George Carlin) of a car magazine. Not acceptable! Who reads car mags to hear about someone’s hurt feelings?! WHO CARES!

In the next horrid installment, Cheah provides a two page attempt at satirising apartment life in Hong Kong. The only link to cars being that he was sent there to see Top Gear Live. However only manages to mention how great the show was, of course. You can hear the crickets chirp in your head as you get past paragraph 3. It’s er, COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY IRRELEVANT TO MOTORING.

Given that Hammond and May provide great, witty, slightly self deprecating articles that always have a common thread about motoring, this guy gets two pages to gloat about how KL is better than Hong Kong.

Oh and in the piece where he’s actually meant to talk about Top Gear Live, all he mentions is that the shark fin dim sum was great, real champagne was served and you should meet his brother if you’re in town. This is barely an exaggeration.  Oh how I wish it was. And here’s the next installment in the Cheah gloat-fest:

“Hong Kong holds no fascination for me, apart from the great food at almost every corner of any street. It’s just too busy, too crowded, too stifling and too mercenary for my delicate and refined palate.”

This is clearly not the language of the common man, as I’m sure Cheah himself would be the first to point out. But please raise a hand if you think this kind of softness belongs in a tissue box and not in Top Gear Magazine. While the magazine probably things Cheah will attract aspirational advertisers like Boss and Hennessy, 17 year old Matt Hayward wouldn’t buy that magazine again. And 31 year old Matt Hayward can’t stop cringing at gut laughing at once.

Quite literally, Cheah was so bad that I had to buy another issue to see if it was just an off issue. It was worse. Sadly though I have to admit Cheah’s a decent photographer (albeit overseas), but as an editor and journalist, don’t get me started. Two or three guys wrote in (March 2009 issue) saying how the Malaysian photography was sub and par offering suggestions to make it cooler. Cheah simply refutes their suggestions reminding them of the great format the magazine has, then in a pseudo-arrogant-trying-to-be-cool way invites them to do better.

I agree with the guys writing in, insofar that there’s a marked difference in quality between the British sourced and Malaysian sourced photographs. And in believing that the world is truly flat there is no excuse for this. It’s just plain shoddiness. Frankly I think your readers deserve better.

Already this must be the longest blog post put here in a while. I could go on for volumes but why bother? ‘Nuff said. Let’s hope one day our Malaysian brothers and sisters can get a quality, non judgemental car mag without someone trying to float his own celebrity at their expense. Let us hope.

Ed Roman and Viv. Ed's clearly a better rock star as he's not smiling

Ed Roman is a ‘guitar shop to the stars’ kind of guy. He is based in Vegas and appears to have been dealing with rock star types since god started designing dirt. And his rant here proves it.

I stumbled upon his celebrity guitars web site the other day and have been reading through his ‘celebrity guitar’ pages for almost a week. It’s stupid crazy addictive for a muso. Ed’s created a site that despite not being updated in a while and a few old school design elements (I’m always up for a redesign project Mr Roman!), the content is just so bloody good.

Anyway, after I’d gone through all the heroes, there was the celebrity page for Def Leppard guitarist Viv Campbell. This article sums up Def Leppard beautfully as one of the most talented yet clearly irrelevant groups in rock history. Ed’s article goes from talking about Viv into a two page manifesto of what’s wrong with rock today. There’s literally about 3 lines about Viv and Def Leppard in the whole thing.

It’s all about how people could really play in the eighties and everyone’s a three chord poseur now.

In the 80’s, you had to know how to play your guitar or you couldn’t join a rubber band. I mean today a lot of these so called garage bands can barely tune their instruments. So instead of learning how to play their instrument or how to use their gear, they just babble on about 80’s hair head bands and call them spandex sissies.

Then he draws on personal experience to point out the poseurs:

Just the other day a friend of mine from Washington DC moved to LA. He proceeded to try to join a band. The little fascist, elite, snob, douche bag members of the first band that he auditioned for, told him he couldn’t join their band. He was playing a Hamer Californian. They said he was a great player and easily good enough but he would have to cut his hair and play a Les Paul if he wanted to join their faggy little gaggle of idiots band.

And you guessed it, record companies are to blame for everything

Record companies don’t want any more Mick Jaggers or Frank Sinatra’s or Elvis Presley’s or Jim Morrison’s or Jimi Hendrix, They want bands like Hootie and the Blow Fish. They want bands that will never make it past their third album which usually doesn’t even get released.

Um, I’m guessing that was written before Metallica’s Some Kind of Monster movie came out. Maybe they’re the exception to the rule. While I hate virtuoso players, I’m loathed to admit I agree with Ed on his comments.  Music is more of a commodity than ever. Hey even Bumblefoot couldn’t join Guns n Roses unless he hung up his beautiful French made Vigier guitars and played a Les Paul. Pretty narrow minded stuff.

Anyway Ed’s got a great web site going and some great experiences and stories to share. He’s also brutally honest when guitars aren’t up to snuff, e.g. Joe Perry and Santana’s signature models. If you’re a guitarist check it out. It’s a great read.

Stop ripping on these guys. They might just get good. I give them till season 3. If they suck then, drown them in brake fluid and diff oil.

Well we’re back to reheated episodes of UK Top Gear (or new for some without UK connections :p). That means the first series of Aussie Top Gear has ended. Sure there were moments of suck, but they did end on a high.

On the last episode (episode 8?) they found something truly Australian to compare: utilitarian Aussie sixes. Finally no bush, no amphibious cars, no aboriginal trackers. Just good content. For where else in the world can you find a full sized, 4 litre six for $30K. Absolutely nowhere. And no you Americans, the Ford Crown Victoria doesn’t count. Even the US Police finally realised it was a brand new 30 year old car about a year ago.

So in perfectly mundane Aussie fleet cars, they’ve finally found something vital, topical and unique to review and managed to come up with an opinion. A real, insightful opinion! Blimey! Unlike their FPV vs HSV comparison which was an unmitigated waste of celluloid and tyre smoke that left people (well me) fuming. They found something unique in Aussies that I think we take pride in the basic stuff.

Also the Tassie road trip was great viewing too. It’s good to see that sure we don’t have the French Riviera or the Swiss Alps, but world class roads are only a ferry ride away. Well a bloody long ferry ride.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s still plenty of dead wood in the show. It’s ethnic tinged with a designer fluff beard and uses too many superlatives (especially when testing new GTRs) to try and sound clever. And despite being chosen to fill the ‘fully sick’ bracket, he’s somehow tragically disconnected from the zeitgeist. But even this guy’s got potential. He clearly can drive and hopefully one day will lose the thesaurus.

Clearly the team are still working on the chemistry, in the content, scripts and er relationship. But has improved in the 480 odd minutes they’ve been on air. I for one believe the guys are on the way to a winning formula. If only SBS and the Australian public can let the tall poppies grow for once. Roll on season two.

So you’re walking down the street and you see a garage sale sign. Normally you might think “meh it’s probably just junk”. But wait till you see the car this garage sale sign was on! Yes only in Prahran in Melbourne will you find a Lamborghini owner having a garage sale. Sure LA is full of them, but how many owners are out there enough to have one of the most flambuoyant garage sales ever!?

Yes the garage sale was the average house bric a brac for sale. Oh yes and the Lamborghini Gallardo itself, yours for $599,999.99. Bargain. Turns out the bloke didn’t have room for the big bull and his Porsches.

The sale went down a few weeks ago. Sadly I haven’t seen the car since. Someone must’ve wandered past with six hundred grand burning a hole in their pocket. Ecomonic crisis, bah humbug!

Sadly I couldn’t get better photos. It was a really sunny day and the camera on the iPhone sucks.

Without doubt the best garage sale promo ever

the sign on the lambo windscreen

1) Go to the KLCC observation deck. it’s a big fucking tower!!! You have to climb a big fucking tower! Like how the fuck COULDN’T you climb one! It’s easy, i didn’t. But if you want to go, they only let like 5000 up to the observatory bit every day. Shopping is OK in KLCC, nothing I haven’t seen anywhere else. Watch it when you step outside though, the heat REALLY hits you in about 300 metres! Perhaps a cab to your destination might be a good idea if you’re not crazy about humidity.

N.B. KL really isn’t that accessible, especially if it’s raining because you get covered in pollution. And when it’s hot, you’ll walk about 500 metres and have sweat right through your clothes! This is not really an exaggeration. You’ve been warned!

Oh yeah, everything is negotiable – retail or market stand. Don’t like take any shit from no one lady!

2) See the view from KL Tower. So damn high the elevator ride is a few minutes. You can have quite a conversation going to the top. It is cheaper and easier to get into than KLCC though, as they only let a set amount of people go to the top each day. Awesome view, I got the anxiety attacks because it was so high. Kinda sorta good, but meh. No monkeys.

3) Eat naan bread at Steven’s Corner. If you can go to a place called ’stevens corner’ it’s near the mid valley mall off old Kelang Road. It’s like a third world Chapel St. Everyone cruises around there and Steven’s Corner has about the best naan bread you can eat anywhere in the world. They also have really great fruit drinks and lasses. Plus there’s about 100 other hawker stands (or mamaks as the locals call them. You CAN’T go to KL without eating at one) there as well if that doesn’t grab you. Will be about 45 mins out of KL maybe. I drank in the beer garden there till about 6 in the morning once. Long story, but a very easy and CHEAP place to eat some of the best food ever. I mean seriously good!

Mid valley mall is like Southland in Melbourne. Don’t bother. In fact I think I’ve seen an identical floor plan for that mall in Australia… another boring story.

4) Party in Bangsar. if you don’t want to slum it, hang out in Bangsar. it’s a little slice of Toorak and there’s night markets on a Sunday, ooh and the completely unpredictable (and inflatable) Irish pub. Very Chapel Street. Watch out for kids selling you DVDs, tissues, candies and completely useless shit. They’re persistent. i think there is a nightclub there called the Beach Club, which is a notoriously easy pick up joint/party club. But all the bars are here.

5) Bintang Walk is kinda touristy but really cool. Lots of nice pricey shops and la de dah stuff. Ooh Starbucks!

6) Wander down Petaling Street (aka China town) it’s truly awesome. During the day it’s stinking hot though. At night it’s cooler and becomes one massive market as the roads are only passable on feet with all the market vendor tents taking up the road. You can get this drink they call cats eye or something in Cantonese. Here you will find all the knock off software, DVDs, cds, clothes, watches, sunnies; anything a Chinese man can knock off will be sold here. It’s good to see because when the po-lice raid the joint, all the dodgy wares are on hospital beds and they plough them down the street!

7) Visit a Hindu temple. Go to this Indian temple near Petaling st, Brickfields
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sri_Kandaswamy_Kovil,_Brickfields
it’s unbelievable and almost walking distance from Chinatown.

8 ) Visit an amazing Buddhist temple. It’s really really cool, probably the number two thing. Because it overlooks the whole town and it’s absolutely massive.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thean_Hou_Temple

Oh yeah and eat nasi lemak. They have it wrapped in banana leaves on the tables of cafes in little pyramids. It’s a true Malaysian experience and would cost you about thirty cents from the average hawker stand, or mamaks as they’re known.

P.S. Cab drivers are scary. But not as scary as the cabs. Get used to it.

I put it to the average ‘long in the leg, thick in the head Aussie’ that you are the world’s most unmitigated wine snob. You buy all your wine from the one shop (Dan Murphys). For those of you who came in late or are not Aussies, Dan Murphys is a booze supermarket, like a Wal Mart dedicated to everything alcoholic. Good to save a few bucks, but just like Wal Mart, you save a bundle on somethings and get totally ripped off. Worse than that, you’re not getting any story behind the wine, you hardly ever meet the makers and you’re served by some spotty git that only knows what’s good because the manager always knicks it. Their ‘cellar’ is an industrial warehouse the size of Belgium and that’s about it. There’s no guy with a beard that could tell you everything from the etymology of the name of the terroir of the soil.

Secondly, all your information comes from at best two sources, Jeremy Oliver (no not the celebrity chef) and some bloke Halliday. Have you read these books? I have read the later in detail. He tastes about 4000 wines a year and can often take the piss if you read enough of it. My problem with these books is it’s like calling and insurance company for a quote for fully comprehensive on your car. ‘what’s the make and model?’, ‘an 86 Camira sedan’. ‘OK your insurance will be $500′, ‘OK. It’s that arbitrary. So they’ve made finding fine wine like getting a quote on your car insurance. It’s just statistics. I put it to you that that’s not a journey, it’s a destination. And it’s bloody boring. I did not get into wine to learn better maths. Ever been to a proper wine tasting not just to get pissed, but to get a different opinion or learn something? Probably not. Ever been to a cellar door? In the truest sense unlikely.

Thirdly, go to your local Dan Murphys. Pick up a ten dollar bottle of French plonk and you’re looked at as some ‘un ooostraayalan’ wine terrorist. The only exception being a bottle of Sauv Blanc from New Zealand for the ladies. God forbid you look at a brilliant Argentinian drop, a brilliant Croatian Chardonnay or a South African Rose. It’s like slapping Don Bradman in the face. Just buy your Shiraz rated at 96 points (sadly there are quite a few rated so highly) and get back in your Commodore, off to your football club barby.

Frankly, I envy the British like Clarkson. They’re in a position where they have ample old world wine. They also have brilliant wine from the Americas, Africas and Oceania and will pick the best for a price range. But there’s no tall poppy syndrome when it comes to the continent it’s from. They have no real domestic wine and the whole world is your oyster. It appears to be about what’s good and what’s reasonably priced. God forbid Australians should ever be so open minded.

Finally, sure snobs of any kind suck. But give me the informed, erudite snob with a story to tell any day that I could learn something from than some Barry McKenzie wanna be fuckwit that thinks just because people are ill informed enough to spend $450 on a bottle of Penfolds Grange, everything Australian is great thank you very much. Sadly, trophy wines like Penfolds that satisfy a demographic and not a palette are doing a great deal of damage to our international reputation. If the Average Barry Humphries Aussie took a blind taste test, he or she would probably find that even South American wine is blinding more interesting than the staid old Aussie Shiraz.

My conclusion is this. If you only drink an Aussie Shiraz and bugger the rest of the world, stick to beer. You’re being the wine snob you think you’re not being. Oh the irony. And I’d rather hear someone tell me some scintillating wine bogus adventure than the latest 5000 wines that Halliday has tasted between soires.

Please for the love of god telling me how great Aussie wine is when you’re too scared to try anything else. If that was the case, I’d still be listening to New Kids on the Block for music. Wine continues to amaze me because you can never try everything. You could never know everything about it. You can’t possibly try everything. That should be a good thing, not a bad thing! Stop being so stuck up and put some imagination into your drinking Australia. You bore me!

Whilst he may not have been the pioneer that Lenny Bruce was, he made a huge contribution to the art of stand up. He used obscenity not just to offend, but hold a mirror up to America and show how ridiculous conservative thinking really was. Point in case “Selling’s legal. Fucking’s legal. Why isn’t selling fucking legal?!”While the delivery may not have been completely original, the material was.

Oh yeah, and the ‘7 words you can’t say on television’ skit that almost made him the second commedian in US history (after Lenny) to be charged with obscenity in the early seventies. Post 9-11, he also got really stuck into airport security saying words to the effect of ‘it’s just to make white people feel safe’ and ‘it’s the government’s way of saying that we can fuck with you any time we want’.

He also had a famous altercation on Fox news that saw an interview end in furore and argument when he refused to tow the Republican line the program was taking. Carlin basically argued the news presenter down and walked off.

While he’s done so much great edgy stuff, it did take him a while to find his groove. Before he was the angry old man, he was a contemporary groovy comedian doing mostly impersonations. Which don’t really work today in all honesty. But it’s harder to appreciate an artist that always tried something new than someone that did the same schtick from the cradle to the grave.

If you’d like to hear a great albeit objective tribute to Carlin, have a listen to this Keith and the Girl (KATG) George Carlin podcast. It’s very fresh and cool. I don’t think Carlin would have it any other way.

Salut George!