Click for Bigger!

… what about a thousand pictures?

There’s a quirky, if ultimately completely useless* tool here that allows you to upload any image and have it reconstituted as a mosaic of other pictures (all sucked out of the flickr database).

Click the image of The Reverend for the full size mosaic.

Have fun!

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*I have to admit though that the geeky side of me has great admiration for people who can figure out how to make something as clever as this…

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Observed on a commuter train this morning:

A girl with streaked crimson hair is sitting next to a girl listening to music on an iPod…

Girl with crimson hair: Hey Inez, you know those guys at work who are on floor 3, well they were at that party the other night and they said they know Wayne and Kim and they are going to go to the club on Thursday so we should go with.

Girl with iPod earbuds firmly in place: What?

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Leaves

My leafy, tree-lined street is a lovely quiet alcove in the busy inner-city suburb where I live. I remember that, once-upon-a-time, on sleepy mornings, after autumn had shaken a myriad golden leaves from the figs that shade the road, I would sometimes wake to happy tuneful whistling and the swish swish swish of a broom, as my local council cleanup crew swept the leaves up into tidy piles to be scooped into hessian bags for removal. Ah, how peaceful, how efficient, how pleasant on the ears.

That was of course before the introduction of the most heinous contraption ever inflicted on civilization: The Leaf Blower.*

Now Mr Cheerful Whistling Sweeper has been replaced by Mr Evil Scowling Fat Bastard† Noisemaker who tippy-toes down the street, carefully and silently navigating around any crackly dry leaves or brittle twigs that might give advance warning of his approach, to arrive outside my window at 6.59am. There he stands, savouring the oily fumes of his machine, counting to himself the seconds left to the end of the pillowy morning peace. Right on the stroke of 7 he fires his infernal machine into life…

Rrrrzrzrrzrzrrzrrrrzrrgggeeeeererrrzzrzrrzr

Is it possible to imagine a more despicable piece of useless crap than the leaf blower? It is noisy, it uses fossil fuel, makes pollution and it is available to the general public without even the minimal academic requirement of a coupon from a Cornflakes box. And it serves no useful purpose other than to be a substitute for something that is at least as effective, is cheaper, clean, makes an agreeable sound and has stood the test of thousands of years.

I believe that the essence of all evil in the world can be seen distilled in this one abominable invention. That’s what happens when you go against the natural laws of physics and create a device that simultaneously blows and sucks.

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*Although it’s a close contest with the loathsome Jet Ski.

†In my experience, the leaf blower is invariably wielded by someone who looks like they’d get a lot more benefit out of using a broom.

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Unknown Zombie

Hey! This just flashed up on my screen! What the…?!*
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*Actually I know exactly what’s going on, but it was weird for a split second…

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Quothe the Raven

I thought you might like to see one of my favourite and most valued treasures – an 1884 edition of Edgar Allan Poe‘s dark and beautiful poem The Raven, illustrated by Gustav Doré.

Raven Cover

This is an imposing large format book about 380mm x 470mm (15in x 18.5in) and is profusely illustrated with Doré’s astonishing engravings. The cover is detailed in gold leaf.

Publishing Date

Doré famously used a technique of overprinting with white ink to make his bright areas glow. The method is not in use in his interpretations of The Raven unfortunately, but this means that the images are even more marvelous for the incredible dynamic range of brightness and darkness they achieve.

Perfume from an Unseen Censer

The Rare and Radiant Maiden

This Home by Horror Haunted

The news in Australia over the last few days has been headlined with the scandal of the findings handed down by the Cole Inquiry into the behaviour of the Australian Government and the Australian Wheat Board and their ethically despicable trading deals with the Iraqi Government just before the 2003 invasion.

At that time there were (in theory) severe sanctions placed by the world community upon trade with Iraq, an accord to which Australia was a signatory. However, for reasons that are still unclear, the AWB considered that these sanctions didn’t apply to them and they carried on business as usual, a situation that encompassed significant bribes to officials in the Iraqi Government in order to lubricate the machinery of commerce. This was, we are to understand from the AWB, normal business practice.

The Howard government in its typically weaselly manner has managed to slip like a greased pig from the grasp of the Cole Inquisitors, avoiding the allegations of Corruption directed toward it for its part in the debacle, and settling for the questionably safer judgement of Incompetence (with which it evidently feels quite comfortable). This is not a surprise for thinking Australians. We’ve become used to this over the last decade or so. This Government is not ‘responsible’ for anything except winning the cricket.

But the full force of the law has landed on the AWB, which has been found in Australian law to be about as rotten as any capitalist venture can be. The punitive effects of this are yet to be decided, but they are likely to be severe.

The extraordinary comment of the day, however, came from the former Managing Director of the AWB Andrew Lindberg, who made a philosophically booby-trapped statement to the effect that he did not believe that AWB acted with evil intent.

Aha. No, Mr Lindberg. Of course you didn’t. Very few people, except for psychopaths and Satanists actually set about acting with evil intent. That’s the really tricky thing about Evil, isn’t it? It kinda sneaks up on you when you thought that all you were doing was just fudging the truth. Just telling a little white lie. Just looking after the interests of your shareholders. Just giving a few mill to Saddam because, y’know, if we don’t, someone else will.

Evil isn’t a big cackling sulphur-smelling demon, Mr Lindberg. Evil is an obsequious little bespectacled man with a ledger, who keeps pointing at the bottom line and telling you your market index has dropped by half a percent. Evil is a little voice that whispers “Go on, just one little signature won’t hurt – they’re a backwards country run by towel-heads: no-one will care…” Evil is a lot of little moral compromises that really don’t matter all that much

A deficit of evil intent does not mean a deficit of evil.

And you always know when you’re doing the wrong thing.

(It’s not like you were trying to cover your tracks or anything. Right?)

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