Sunday, May 30, 2010

Men Beware: Women are superhuman

Okay, so maybe I'm not claiming that women-folk are a bunch of mutant-powered vigilantes who can probe your brain or control your mind.  Or maybe I am, but not in a manner designed to generate undue paranoi- aw hell, let's face it, us guys are royally fucked when it comes to toe-to-toe encounters with the unfairly fairer sex.  I've been asked questions all my adult life by guys who just don't get this, so here's my way of trying to level the playing field between genders.  Below are some Futilely Asked Questions along with my answers and suggested counter-measures.


1. Why doesn't my partner trust me?


Easy: women are telepathic.

There's only two things on your mind.

 
While they may not be able to read your mind per se, many women can sure as shit read everything else about you - appearance, mannersims, body language and paralinguistic cues.  Moreover, they can do so in the context of comparative behavioural profiling.  Similar to a lie detector, once they have a base template of genuine behaviour (ie: how you act when you're being completely honest) they can use that as a reference to future behaviour and compare the difference.  Eye movements, tone and timbre of voice, fidgeting, all that shit gets cross-referenced to see if it matches your 'honest' profile of behaviour.  Compounding this is the fact that women tend to have significantly more interconnections bewteen the left and right hemispheres of the brain, which means they not only effectively process this stuff, but do so on multiple levels at once.

Counter-measure: This is a tough one, and there's really only two options - either be honest ALL the time so your behavioural profile never changes (albeit as an insensitive prick), or lie ALL the time for the same reason.


2. How come my woman always catches me when I check out other women?


Because you are as subtle as you are stupid.

Even the leader of the free world.

Back in ye olde prehistoric times there was a basic demarcation of gender roles.  Men would hunt and fight, women would gather and rear kids (and conspire with other women).  This gives them a natural edge when it comes to peripheral vision and subtle observation.  But it's not just their superior peripheral vision that catches you out, its your own perving skills that make it so easy for them.
Back on the ancient savannah or tundra we men developed very keen, yet tunnelled, vision over range, especially when we moved on from being scavengers to hunters.  Being able to spot and then visually track priority targets (prey, predators and potential mates) was an essential survival ability.  And because we hunted in packs, there was little need to improve our peripheral range so long as our buddies were watching our backs.  Think of your field of view as being like a sniper scope, while women have more of a wide angle lens.
Now, when you're at the pub and some chick with a balltastic rack wanders by, your scope locks onto that pair of party balloons and starts tracking.  Only, because of your subconscious need to keep that target in focal view, you don't just look with your eyes - you move your whole fucking head like a goddamned turret.

Counter-measure: sunglasses only help so much, but a motorcycle helmet combined with a neck brace is better.  I'd suggest ignoring 3rd party boobies all together, but that's like saying 'ignore food and water'.

3. Hey, Kidd, my woman says I've changed since we first started dating, and not for the better.  What gives?

Simple, douchebag, you've just started being more honest.


And after I finished being a test pilot for Space Force I joined the Peace Corps: Ninja Division.

When a guy starts dating a girl he puts on his A game, seeking to make the best impression possible.  All male mammals do it in some way as part of the whole mating ritual thing.  Unfortunately, your 'best' is not sustainable in the long term.  Even more unfortunately, the woman thinks that your 'first impression' efforts are actually your normal self.  As far as she's concerned, you are naturally clean-shaven, well groomed and as morally perfect as you made out to be the first time you both met.  As I always quote from PJ O'Rourke: "I clean my house about once a girlfriend, after that they can get to know the real me".

Counter-measure: Instead of going for the hard sell at the beginning of a relationship, try a bit of marginal underplay.  If she's still willing to give you a go, she'll actually be pleasantly surprised that you're not quite as bad as you made yourself out to be at the start.


4. What the fuck is it with her monthly mood swings, tears and paranoia?

She is either an emo-werewolf or about to start bleeding.  Possibly both.


Men have no conception of the hormonal rollercoaster that is the fertile female body.  PMS, in many cases, is the biological equivalent of a dude scoring some badly cut meth - instead of a buzz, you get stomach cramps, sweats, mild delusions and become highly irritable.  Now, combine that with their relative hyper-senses (women tend to both hear and smell better than men) and a naturally lower threshold for pain*, and you've got a wounded bear out for blood and ready to maul anyone who gets in her way.

Counter-measure: if you want your relationship to work, and to minimise any conflict therein, you will chart and track her menstrual cycle.  She won't - it still dumbfounds me how so many girls forget when their next period is due, then act all surprised when PMS hits again.  It's up to you to draw up a secret calendar highlighting the expected danger dates.  Then, when the time draws near follow this simple rule: Stay. The. Fuck. Away.
In my case I tend to be extremely honest with the love of my life when she's at this phase of her cycle.  I tell her outright that I'll be ignoring her outbursts and accusations for the next few days and won't take any of it personally due to her temporary insanity.  Then again, I say this over the phone from my place which is 30km away.

* And don't give me any of that 'but women can bear the pain of chilbirth, you mysoginistic cunt!'  That shit won't play because it's the 9 month exception to the pain threshold rule, during which time their bodies produce superhuman levels of endorphins and other pain control chemicals in deliberate preparation for labour.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Sea Patrol Season 4: 3 in 1 Wrap Up

I've been catching up on SP and its endless evocation of tears and laughter.  This article covers episodes 2-4 because, well, there really isn't that much to them.  Each ep contains a synopsis and a highlight that best encapsulates the spirit of this full motion naval recuitment campaign.

Episode 2 title: Crocodile Tears
Why?  Because of all the sad crocodiles.  And by 'sad' I mean dead.  And flayed.


So gross.

Synopsis:  the crew of the HMAS Hammersley, temporarily skippered by a tubby Steve Bastoni (CO Flynn is sailing a desk since taking a promotion), discover the presence of croc poachers.  During leave at some fictional sovereign island where poachers hang out, 2 Dads and the new commander have a big bar fight and attempt to steal and release a captive crocodile, leading to potentially international incident.  CO Cocktard coerces 2 Dads to take the fall, but is exposed at the end when the head poacher is arrested.  Also, CO Flynn and XO McGregor (Ian Stenlake and Lisa McCune) finally get down and dirty.


Even grosser.

Highlight: Commander Expendable and 2Dads flee the busted up bar after rescuing a resident crocodile that entertains patrons by performing tricks (it eats things - seriously, that's the trick).  They then free it by the side of a main road where it scuttles into oncoming traffic.  Splat!


I'm an expert on crocs, 2Dads, just set it down here on Main street and it'll hitch a ride back to the swamp, okay?



Episode 3 title: The Right Stuff
Why?  I don't fucking know.  The phrase is generally reserved for US fighter pilots who are accepted into the NASA astronaut program.  They could have called it "A Few Good Men" or "Star Wars" and made just as much referential sense.


Plot Synopsis:  A bunch of international theives steal a few container loads of uranium because apparently it's as easy as nicking old tyres from the city dump.  The Hammersley crew track down the missing shipment with the help of a dodgy old Israeli security consultant who ends up being in on the whole scam.  There's a somewhat one-sided firefight at the end before everyone sails home for tea and medals.


Dodgy old Israeli turns out to be dodgy. Who knew?

It never ceases to amaze me how shit-easy it is to take over an Australian war vessel.  Provided you have a pair of opposable thumbs and a spontaneous cover story, you can waltz aboard and start disarming the crew by claiming to be a bullet inspector.


Highlight: Some kid who's important to the Commander in some way (godson or ex-lover or whatever, I wasn't really listening) is taken hostage by the uranium theives ad nearly gets his dick shot off during the ensuing rescue.  As a result of this trauma he decides to join the Navy in order to get laid.

"You life will be just like a patrol boat: full of seamen."



Episode 4 title: Ransom
Why?  Shit, this one's right on the money.  The ep actually has kidnappers and a plan involving the exchange of valuables for an abductee.

Plot Synopsis:  the crew help rescue a kidnapped little brat of a girl.  It's kinda confusing because somehow the kid's step-dad masterminded the whole deal, but so did the biological father.  Or something.  Anyway, the crew hatch a plan that seems inconceivable to anyone who isn't autistic and proceed to fuck it up until the bad guys die of frustrated confusion.  And since when does the Navy handle civilian kidnappings anyway?  And where did the boss kidnapper get a WWII Sten gun?


Warning: one-handed firing of antique machinegun may result in tooth loss.

Highlight: in this ep my highlight concerns editing rather than plot.  As XO McGregor (Lisa McCune) and the kidnap victim (some child actor who'll be lucky to get a commercial gig after this crap) flee from their gormless captors we get a shot of this:

Pictured: microphone pack.  Not pictured: assistant editor being sacked.


Monday, May 10, 2010

Sea Patrol: Season 4, Episode 1

Booyah, bitches, Sea Patrol is back.  The crew of the HMAS Hammersley has undergone a few cast changes since last season, but the formula remains faithful.  And why not start this year with plenty of action and intrigue as our fearless navy takes on terrorists.  With so much awesomeness packed into one show, I'm simply going to focus on one or two slight oversights.


Synopsis:  Basically the Sea Patrollers race against time to foil terrorists intent on assassinating the US ambassador while he's holidaying on some secret island resort.  The episode is entitled 'Night of the Long Knives', even though it has no resemblance or reference to the purge of political and military rivals by Hitler in 1934 Germany.  Oh, there is a knife in it, towards the end, but it's not particularly long.


Hang on, he's got a knife, right? AND it's night-time...you know what we
should call this episode?

I can understand writers taking a literal historic reference and applying it to a fuguratively themed title, but who the hell does it the other way round?


Through a series of mystifyingly convenient events, the SP crew learn that the ambassador's secretary has been kidnapped at sea by a group of Al-Queda terrorists and tortured into disclosing the location of the secret diplomatic resort.  They save the inexplicably still alive girl - mainly because Commander Flynn promised her over the radio that he would do so 42 scenes earlier - then head for the island to kick some terrorist ass.  As they close in a speedboat charges the Hammersley.  The crew soon realise that it contains heavily armed terrorists, one of whom is toting... "an RPG!" 

Watch out, its' an extremely caucasian Al-Queda with a tube thingy!

'RPG' stands for Rocket Propelled Grenade (and launcher), a cheap, mass produced piece of shit found in the hands of third-world militias across the globe.  The non-RPG bit, the launcher, is a shoulder-mounted exhaust tube with a simple periscopic sight and ignition trigger that activates an unguided, 5 kilo explosive warhead that's plenty crude but also plenty messy.  Do you know what's missing from this terrorist's launcher?  The unguided, 5 kilo explosive warhead.  You know, the bit that goes Boom!


Circled: the bit that goes Boom!


Before being blown to ash by the Hammersley's 25mm auto-cannon, the terrorist does manage to somehow fire his unloaded RPG at the ship, but the hastily post-edited CGI warhead misses.


One last thing.  When the final fight occurs it involves the heroic Commander Flynn and a knife-wielding* assassin disguised as a waiter.  The duel goes on for a while, long enough to ask where the hell the ambassador's bodyguards are at.  Probably snorting coke off a hooker's ass.  Or, if they've ever encountered C.O. Flynn and his motler crew before, standing around cheering and taking side bets. 

*Surely if you can smuggle in a steel knife you could maybe revamp your tactics by a thousand years and bring in a gun instead.