last farewell

9/11-style Judy dream

A dream involving double-decker buses, a deceased dog, conflagration enacted by terrorists and my friend Greg Wadley: I was on a bus going to work (only work was at the University of Sydney, which is actually where I did my undergraduate degree). I was there with Greg and Judy, the notoriously ill-tempered and unmanageable silky terrier. We were accidentally going the wrong way - away from the University - but did not care about this, particularly when we saw, on the horizon, it erupt into a ball of flame, the result of a terrorist attack. However, in the confusion and furore the busdriver was required to drive in a random pattern through streets which were extremely crowded - with both cars and pedestrians - and which looked more like central London than anything else. One of Greg's kids (actually, neither of his kids, as this child was aged somewhere between Ellen and Tom, probably 12 or 13) got off the bus and said to me 'see ya Nicko' and I turned to Greg and said, 'so do they call you Wad-o?' to which the whole bus erupted in mirth (I guess people get a bit hysterical during terrorist attacks). The bus was going so slowly that I decided I would get off and walk Judy alongside it, leaving all my stuff (which included at least one important thing - a stool with a cloth cover on which I had written some notes on in pencil). We walked for a while and then of course lost the bus in the traffic, an inevitability which did not greatly concern me. We went past a small retail outlet - a stationer's or something - and the proprietor called out, 'Judy can you work a half-day for me on Wednesday?' and Judy indicated she would be happy to mind the shop for that period. I had not realised that Judy led this kind of life - a little like Sooty, I imagined, though with less mayhem.

michael farrah sky

I can't blog at work which is a good thing but of course I have wanted to say my part on today's american deaths. But now I realise I can't say anything as bizarre or interesting as what 1000 million people have already said. OK.

formless, unfinished (?) post

Tall people drive me mad, with their ridiculously gawky stupid big scissor legs, and then they sit on the train opposite you with their legs apart like they’ve got something good going on, which they probably do, since they rule the fucken world. And your knees have to touch their knees, or if they’re really tall, their inner thigh. Anyway that just happened to me a short time ago and I don’t want it to be happening. There should be some kind of recognised etiquette for really tall people, to clutch their legs or something and rest their chins on their knees. Or, really, they should stand. Or have operations.

This morning I took a train with a gang of young men probably early 20s who were all of the same ethnic background (or at least, they all knew the same language and it wasn’t English, but they did all know English too, or rather, one of the jokes that was cracking them up, and they were VERY happy, was to bark at one another ‘speak English!’). Another of their jokes was to call out in a high pitched voice, ‘David, David’ which was NOT about me, unless I am going bipolar and I only think that’s what I was hearing.

A few times lately I have been in the accidental company of young men who are just so filled with hilarity and glee they are basically trilling with joy, wheezing and giggling, and it’s like they can’t keep their mirth in at all. I hate that glee so much. Two days ago I was on a train with two boys who were not boys at all but old enough to know better, who were fixated on a joke about ‘your mum’s titties’ (or was it boobies) repeated in different voices (though usually sotto voce) interspersed with more serious discussion about how one of them had a father who wouldn’t let him spend any time alone with his fiancée. Don’t know why, he seemed like such a mature individual.

I was having a small spat with myself in the state library because there was a guy at the microfilm reader next to me who was obviously unable to use the machine. And I was thinking don’t even think about asking me how to do it, there are staff here. But then he went off to find a staff member and, I suppose, couldn’t because he came back alone and tried to figure it all out again. Awful for him. And for me, as I was annoyed about his existence, and the fact that if he asked me, I would help him, and I wouldn’t even be able to express my irritation, because it wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t the state library’s fault either because they’re underfunded, blah blah, possibly and probably. Or they’re all on the internet reading about Michael Jackson’s non-children (everyone at desks these days are always intent on something on a computer and always want to make very certain you can’t see what they’re ‘working on’).

great party last night

I went to one. I saw people around my age dancing interpretatively to Kate Bush and next day read about Generation Jones (a phenomenon(?)/ descriptor I had already encountered) which seemed to fit. The food was good too. Everyone was very nice.

Today I am tired though.

Would you believe the taxi driver was using his mobile on the freeway on the way home at 3:45 am. I asked him not to and he apologised. But seriously what did that idiot think he was doing.

late night dogs

Well Charlie woke me up completely rearranging the living room (ripping up a cardboard box as it transpired). I put her outside and she ran amok out there for a while (2.30 am). Then barked to be allowed back in. This woke Millie up who has decided she has some serious fidgetty shit to accomplish. Now Charlie is asleep again and Millie is going. It's only me that's awake. I am dreaming I am blogging, which is almost embarrassing.

I checked sitemeter again, always a relevation. Recent success stories here have been the stuff on Knockout from a few months back alongside the old hits of 'what relation is your cousin's child to you' and '1001 songs you must hear before you die'. I actually wrote some entries for the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die, eg the entries on Godd's A Wizard, a True Star; ZZ Top's Tres Hombres; and the Bee Gees' Trafalgar. It took a real sublimation of the instincts to work for that book (though the editor was great to work with, a pro, and there were no lies told) because of course everyone has their favourite 1001 albums - why stop at 1001 - and I was railing all the way against non-inclusion of so many things I thought were so much better than so many other things, but luckily it wasn't my call. I would have produced a book without Sgt Pepper (that would have been in the book 1001 cultural artifacts you must avoid until you die, along with 2 1/2 Men, Macleod's Daughters, Star Wars, The Joshua Tree and London). I did feel privileged to write on Pere Ubu's Dub Housing which is in my opinion one of the top ten best albums ever made. There was nowhere near enough Australian stuff in there of course, probably Back in Friggin' Black and that's about it. Back in Black is such a chronically awful record - look, I know - its broad appeal, like that of internet porn, makes me despair for almost anyone.

I went to the doctor's tonight because I was worried I might have swine flu. Headaches, cough, fever. He said if I had had it, which I might have, it was mild and it has more or less passed. When I say I was worried, I was only worried I might be a carrier and/or that it was the beginning of something huge and horrid. So I felt fine. The headaches are the only really bothersome bit and can be managed. I did have to watch 2 1/2 Men in the waiting room. The upside of today aka yesterday: a student sent me an email saying of a course I taught this semester: 'Everything was fantastic. By far my favourite subject so far in my tertiary education' - god that's nice to hear! - and the redoubtable Clarkey, a woman much on my mind lately as I have been tramping the wilds of her former planet, Templestowe the last couple of weeks, texted me to say she was at a service station in Joondalup and saw someone wearing those silly converse I drew, and fell into a converse-ation with him, and he told her he loves them and so does everyone else he's ever met. OK, I'm being flippant. But I now know of 4 satisfied owners out of 4. So since the dogs are now asleep and power snoring, I am going back to bed. Night.

PS (I'm not writing this, I'm dreaming I'm writing it) actually a book called 1001 Cultural Artifacts You Must Avoid Until You Die would be a fantastic idea - the new Stuff White People Like I reckon - everyone would get enjoyably up in arms about the stuff that was dissed in there because they'd all know it - classic. If you decide to run with this idea, cut me some royalties please OK? OK.

dream with joke

I dreamt I had decided to become a stand-up comedian, and I was writing a skit around how I would take on a life of crime. In the skit, I had been given a password that would allow me access to a criminal den. The password was 'Mumbles'. I knocked on the door and said 'Mumbles'. The person on the other side opened the door and said, 'Yes?'

It's not often you get actual jokes in dreams.

another spam poem

chaser 2c a week later

Personally if I was Amanda Duthie and I was presiding over the Chaser’s 2009 season I would be flummoxed by its amazing unfunniness this time around. I was wondering after the first episode whether this was because we don’t have the Howard government anymore, or maybe the show has been too successful or something. So if I was Amanda Duthie I’d be thinking ‘god, anything goes here, why isn’t it funny anymore? Maybe a skit about dying children making “realistic” wishes is funny, who knows.’ I am not entirely sure what the Chaser’s crime was with that skit, since it wasn’t really poking fun at dying children per se, but more at smarmy celebrities and perhaps by extension the false idea that going to a theme park or meeting a celebrity is compensation for having a serious or terminal illness. The fine points of it are probably not worth going into in any great detail though because basically it wasn’t funny. Perhaps that was Duthie’s biggest mistake – not taking them to task over that important issue. I suppose they were golden boys and they had to push the envelope etc so everyone was under pressure.

Then Ruddy has to weigh in with his child pornography face and you think maybe we really do still have the Howard government. Then Gordon Ramsay calls someone a lesbian and we all move on. I have a vague idea of who Gordon Ramsay is, he’s someone of no consequence, but who’s the person he called a lesbian? Someone I can’t place at all. This is grumpy old man territory. Taking pride in having no knowledge of aspects of popular culture. I resisted that for a long, long time but it was always inevitable.

I am uncertain what the point was of reducing the show by 2 episodes, who is being punished and what on earth the ABC’s important 2009 scheduling might have to offer. I guess there is a chance that this might mean the remainder of the Chaser eps might be better with material distilled down, though on the evidence of the first few episodes I doubt it. I feel duty bound to point out that, a la Sandra Hall, I have no illusion that I could have done better. Some of the stuff they did on previous seasons of The Chaser was incredible, in case you hadn’t noticed.

ezra

I have been reading Sandra Hall’s 2008 biography of Ezra Norton, a stocky little tome which is at least as much about the times in which Norton was active (50? years within the 20th century; he was born just before the turn of it) as it is about the man himself who remains nonetheless something of an enigma. A lot of things bother me about this book, not many of which have much to do with the book itself, though I do have my complaints, which I have to admit are probably more related to my own historical interests than they are to Hall’s account of Norton’s life.
Ezra Norton was a newspaper publisher and editor, who ran successful tabloid newspapers in Sydney. One of Hall’s initial issues, and you don’t need to be a historian to sympathise with her here, is that she didn’t actually have much to go on in terms of personal papers. Ezra Norton – possibly because his father John was famously such a notorious famous violent alcoholic and by all accounts a complete shit – was a relatively private man who took pains to cover up his private life. Yet Ezra was a public figure, and there is entirely no doubt that he enjoyed an ongoing ‘public life’ insofar as he was responsible for literature that made its way into millions of people’s lives on a daily basis.

One thing that bothers me about this book is that I didn’t know it had been published until I saw a copy on a remainder table at my local shopping centre. It may have been under-publicised though I am notorious (in my own mind) for being unable to concentrate on the weekend papers as they annoy me so much with their glib prescriptiveness so it is perfectly possible that I passed over a review.

Another thing that bothers me is that, while it was probably a good idea of Hall’s to spend pages contextualising Norton’s life with events of the time, the general lack of knowledge of Australian history that this implies/ that makes this necessary is highly irritating. Still, no point in griping about that I suppose, and in any case after a fashion I arguably benefit from that personally (because history teaching is a string on my bow).

What bothers me the most however – and this seems to be more and more of a gripe of mine and may be one of the keys to the grumpy old man phenomenon – is the lack of mention of two things I know something about, and which are entirely ignored in Hall’s text. A sensible person with perspective would say, well, that’s because my in-depth knowledge of these special things are entirely distorting my perspective if not my perception of their importance to the narrative. There’s probably a little McDonalds-style inner know-it-all inside me jumping up and down and saying ‘I know! I know! Me! Me!’ as well, the way kids in primary school with answers would emphatically shoot their hands in the air like a nazi salute. But then you also think that perhaps these are important things that shouldn’t be missing from the Hall book. If you’re reading this, Sandra, you’ve got a very good handle on Ezra Norton but there are at least two facts-events missing:

(1) Grant Hervey spent two or three (can’t remember) years in jail for trying to blackmail John Norton’s wife, i.e. Ezra Norton’s mother. Hervey went into prison a maverick and a criminal and came out unhinged and spent another ten years of his life being a walking disaster to everyone. Hervey was a bad poet and a crappy prose writer and even if the blackmail trial/ imprisonment is something that happened to Hervey, not the Nortons, still (a) Hervey knew Mrs. Norton and since Hall goes into quite a bit of detail about another public/controversial insinuation of infidelity, here’s another aspect to the Nortons’ tempestuous marriage that deserves a little coverage (b) the whole fiasco was heavily publicised so… that’s important, to (or in) my mind. (2) Boofhead. R B Clark invented Boofhead and it ran in an Ezra Norton newspaper. The story about Boofhead often published, never proven is that Clark, who worked in the railways, went to his editor (Norton?) at some stage and said he thought he should take drawing lessons and the editor wouldn’t hear of it. Boofhead is, well, less of an important figure these days though he did have a life of his own after Clark’s death in the early 1970s (and the termination of the comic strip) through the work of Martin Sharp, etc. So I think that’s a valid thing to bring up, in terms of Norton’s contribution to the culture. Hall has her own narrative to pursue which has to be respected; she’s more interested in the troubles Norton experienced in actually gaining government permission to publish a new newspaper during the Second World War and it’s true, that’s interesting. But I’ve read through the first issues of that paper and it was definitely a mass appeal tabloid, just like the publication the Nortons were famous for, Truth. Its comics were a part of that important element.

It would be nice to wrap this up with some kind of stylistic so there but ultimately I support Sandra Hall’s right to publish a book on any aspect of Ezra Norton she pleases. I suppose I have made a slightly patronising assumption that she probably didn’t know about the Hervey thing and found the Boofhead bit irrelevant. The biography is very readable anyway. My grandfather was a journalist in Melbourne in the 30s and Sydney in the 40s and 50s and then Melbourne again till his retirement. I wish I’d discussed it more with him though it also has to be said he did not have an objective perspective on it and why would he.

A week later PS: The only time Ezra Norton was ever happy - the one time - was when he spent a train trip singing show songs with his wife. Later, he lost his temper again.

etc

How am I feeling today? Cheap Candy - Shaft Will I get far in life? Blush - Wa Wa Nee How do my friends see me? What You Know - Mum Smokes When will I get Married?Dot Dash - Wire What is my best friend's theme song? Carpe et Diem - royalchord What is the story of my life? Bodysnatcher Blues - Dave Graney What was high school like?Faith Healer - Sensational Alex Harvey Band How am I going to get ahead in life? Game of Numbers - The Native Cats What is the best thing about me? It's so obvious - WireHow is today going to be?Out the door at last - The Yips What is in store for this weekend? Highly Strung - The Rustlers What song describes my parents? Silver Thread - royalchord What song describes your grandparents?Honky Tonk Rope a Dope - Dave Graney How is my life going?Half Past One - CanWhat song will they play at my funeral?House Music - Mum Smokes How does the world see me?Not One of the Boys - Mum Smokes
Will I have a happy life?Carried Away - Split Enz What do my friends really think of me?Get Behind Me - Scott Walker

sooo 2007.2

Here are the instructions:1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question.4. NO CHEATING.

Q: What does next year have in store for you? Japan in Paris in LA - The Red Crayola Q: What does your love life look like next year?Goodbye Girls - Broadcast Q: What do you say when life gets hard?I'm gonna be fine - We Ragazzi Q: Song that reminds you of good times?Prinsen Doppler - Etienne Charry (nb this song goes for 18 seconds, just like the good times) Q: What do you think when you get up in the morning? Water Down - The Native Cats Q: What song will you dance to at your wedding? Bubble - Red House Painters Q: Song that reminds you of your first kiss?A Little Lost - Arthur Russell Q: Your favourite saying?Night Falls - Neil Tennant Q: Favourite place?Health and Girls - Mum Smokes Q: Most Missed Memory? Shock Me - Red House Painters Q: What song describes your best friend? Wonderful Baby - Don McLean Q: What song describes your ex?Ladyflash - The Go! Team Q: Where would you go on a first date?Some Fish - Mum Smokes Q: Drug of choice?When I Dream - royalchord Q: What song describes yourself?Namnlöst spår 3 - The Go! Team Q: What is the thing you like doing most? Message Boy - Split Enz Q: The song that best describes the president?Crazy as a Loon - Lobby Loyde with Sudden ElectricQ: Where will you be in 10 years?Mistress - Red House Painters Q: Your love life right now? I Want Butterflies (all the time) - We Ragazzi Q: What is your state of mind like at the moment?A higher Power - Jens Lekman Q: How will you die?Patience a Deux - The Yips

sooo 2007

After you read this meme, you have to do it, too.

If your life were a soundtrack, what would the music be?

Here’s how it works:
1. open your library (iTunes, winamp, media player, iPod)
2. put it on shuffle
3. press play
4. for every section, type the song that’s playing
5. next section — press the next button
6. don’t lie and try to pretend you’re cool

opening credits: Full Moon on the Highway - Can waking up: Hard was Anne - Pink Flamingoes (that, by the way, makes no sense) first day at school:True Love Will Find You - Tracey Readfalling in love:When Young Lovers Have No Place to Go - We Ragazzibreaking up:
Jour J - Etienne Charry (that also, by the way, makes no sense)prom:Midnight Lines - royalchordlife’s okay:Boards of Canada - Stereolabmental breakdown:Letter Bomb - Red Crayoladriving:One Day - Wa Wa Neeflashback:Pyromaniac - The Verlainesgetting back together:Strike - Todd Rundgrenwedding:Champs - Wirebirth of child:Perdue au Telephone - Etienne Charryfinal battle:Vernal Equinox - Candeath scene:Half Mast - Empire of the Sunend credits:Tender Buttons - Broadcast

new news

I was telling students this a decade ago. I guess I should have told ninemsn, whatever that is.

the queen is a bore and so is her birthday holiday

What do you consider some perks of being your gender? Unwarranted power and respect. Would you ever get a tattoo with someone's name on it?No Would you ever get your nipples pierced? No What is your LEAST favorite type of alcohol? Champagne, cinzano - all the 'ch' alcohols. Did you ever have tea parties when you were younger? Uncertain. Do you know anyone personally who is terminally ill?i don't think so... What is your favorite line from a movie? 'Fellas... I don't recognize the right of this committee to ask me these kind of questions. And furthermore, you can all go fuck yourselves.' Would you rather be the opposite sex? (shrug) Do you like spending time with your parents? It's fine What would you do if you saw a guy hit a girl? Not tolerate it. Have you ever gambled? Yes and I usually win What would you NEVER name one of your children?John, David.What is the coolest restaurant you've ever been to?There is an ethiopian one in San Francisco I liked.What do you do with clothes you've outgrown or don't want anymore?Brotherhood bin, or equivalent. Do you use tobacco products? Never. What magazine do you read or look through most often? Overland, The New Yorker, Australian Planner, Mojo, Yeti, Harpers, Meanjin. Do you support local music/artists?Yes. What style of house would you like to live in? I am in it. 1972 3 br brick large yard. Would you ever go a week without showering? Doesn't sound like me. If your nails are painted, what color are they?They're not. Do you put posters on your bedroom walls? No. Do you use iTunes or do you use music player?itunes. Do you flip the channel when commercials come on?i rarely watch tv.Would you ever date someone with a different skin color than you? Of course not! I would not date anyone. What would you do if your parents caught you drinking? Wonder what they were doing in the same place and get ready for stress. Have you seen any of the Saw movies? No Do you watch any cartoons? Simpsons What was your favorite book as a kid? Animal Farm Have you ever lost a house or car key that you never found? Probably If you had to lose one of your body parts what would it be? My eyebrow

rod

Well I was in Brotherhood Bazaar and I saw the Rod Hull and Emu Gift Book and flicking through it I saw a comic strip in which Rod climbs up a drainpipe to break into his own house rather than wake Emu to let him in after he accidentally got locked out and I thought how rippingly funny since Rod Hull notoriously died in 1999 from horrific head and chest injuries after falling off the roof of his own house trying to adjust his tv aerial, and so naturally I took an out-of-focus picture of it with my phone and put it here just to show I am an insensitive, nerdy prat. See you later!

charlie goes to diamond creek

Charlie was right into the idea of a trip to Diamond Creek. 'I hope to see a horse,' she said. First however we dropped into the excellent op shop opposite the station where I scored three (the only three 'real' ones from the 1960s) Walker Brothers albums in immaculate condition and - get this - mono. Also a belt.





We loved this park, with its tennis courts, toilet block, kindergarten, play equipment - everything except a park, really. It did have these extraneous steps. 'Reminds me of that extraneous gate', said Charlie (actually she said nothing of the sort. She wanted to use them! They're extraneous).



The above is not an uncommon kind of housing in Diamond Creek, large 50s weatherboard. Often they have verandahs as well. They're very nice, I don't know what they're like inside. They look great from the outside. Many of them quite run down, which is wrong. Hopefully a renovation (rather than a demolition/consolidation) program will burst forth. The below is a bit of an anomaly, but we liked it.



These magpies...


chased these galahs onto these wires. Seconds before these pictures were taken. Though I have to concede the pictures prove nothing.


We headed away from the main shops/houses - I guess south-east? Charlie took advantage of generous drinking water provision by a homeowner in a garden. Thanks.


Phipps Crescent undergoes an unusual change in personality at a certain point and becomes less a paved suburban road, more a rustic townish lane. Or crescent.

Suddenly, we were in the country.

'It's not time to make a change, just relax, take it easy...' so might one of these vans have been singing to the other.

Charlie suffered to have her photo taken yet again at what she assumed was a random point in the journey.

Suddenly she noticed we were not alone.

She was still barking five minutes later.

charlie goes to gladstone park

So Charlie and I spent a few hours in Gladstone Park on Sunday just walking along being normal. We came in from the Moonee Ponds Creek side where many Gladstoneparkers back on to the reserve. This individual had an extensive and valid pipe system which, post-water tank, distributed rainwater onto their little out-the-back garden.


They kind of blotted their sustainability copybook with the new aircon unit the size of a car though. Didn't see the size of their car.


Still, it's nice to see improvisation is alive and kicking in GP with a terrific set of bird scarers (or catchers, not sure) - of which this is but one.


Everyone there under 60 wears tracky dacks with two stripes, but they pull it off, so to speak. Additionally there are a lot of old people around being active. I didn't photograph any. But I did see this amazingly fine house, the front of which stretches the entire property. The front yard is brown rocks. All in all it says something.


We met a woman (her name we did not glean) and her beagle, Bobby. She was shocked to find that we had walked from Jacana (a full 15 mins away). You might recall a few years ago the man in the GP Video Ezy claimed to have never heard of Jacana. Charlie and Bobby got on OK, on a Charlie gauge. We were also pleased to see a small dog being washed by these nice people in the street.


They love their dogs in GP. This young lady was using hers as a husky.


Charlie was amazed by this gate-no-fence scenario. We have no fence at our house, which she appreciates, but it would bug her seriously to have to wait for someone to open a gate.




Caulder House but no answer.


We were mainly walking along Carrick Road, which is one of the main roads of the suburb although as you can see from the map above that is a kind of a random design idea; the roads sweep curvily through and like the best 70s suburbia, it's dead easy to get lost. Once you cross the western ring road, you end up in a whole new world, of semi-industriality en route to Airport West, though if you move north it's similar to GP and for all I know technically still is GP, or perhaps it's Tullamarine.


We saw a spectacular pomegranate tree which made me want a pomegranate tree.


Charlie saw something she wanted too but it was similarly unavailable.


We were both impressed by the patriotic nationalism of the craftspeople in this home, which also had about six cars parked in the garden.


And the colour co-ordination of this wonderful home struck us as delightful. (Not sarcastic. True.)


'All in all', said Charlie, 'I'm buggered now and want to go home.'

i do know how i feel about the old dragon

Almost - let's say often - the most brilliant group on earth in the 1970s. I love all 70s incarnations from first to last. I felt so privileged (not proud) to be asked to write the sleevenotes to the reissue of Universal Radio (see this) and the second one, Scented Gardens for the Blind, both smashingly fine albums. You will love them when you hear them, Dan. I mean just look at that group pic (look at Marc's eyes - he's looking at you). In my sleevenotes I quote Ray Goodwin saying that the early seventies were a time when ‘you were pretty free to make up your own show. It was refreshing, the energy – very post-acid. The whole lifestyle we had then was a combination of all those Jack Kerouac and Henry Miller books mixed up into a bad brew’ and that ‘it was like Life a user’s manual, every room had a lifestyle world period going on, and it was incredible mixture of people.’ They lived on stewed lemons and, I guess, drugs, most of them anyway. Auckland 1973-4. I wonder if it'll be as exciting when I'm there next month?

i don't know how i feel about the new dragon

I notice they are making a new album of all-new songs (I couldn't even bear to think about the last one, of Aust classics kicking off with 'Most people I know'). I also notice that men can only buy Dragon t-shirts in large, extra large and fuckin' unbelievable wear it or wrap it round your house size.

(Mind you, this doesn't seem so large. And has this man got it on backwards?)

i was horrified...

...to hear presenters on RRR yesterday saying they were proud of the Australian flag and proud to be Australian. If I wanted to hear that kind of sentiment so antithetical to my own I would listen to some friggin' right wing talkback show. Pride is a bono emotion anyway but pride in one's country is like pride in having fingers, or pride that you haven't murdered someone lately. Go to hell with your patriotism shit.