May I Please Ingest A Pre-Cooked Sugary Bun Containing Dubiously Synthetic-Looking Dairy Product And Minced Flesh Of Unknown Origin?

Being the only tech/geek literate person in the office most days can be occasionally exciting, and frequently frustrating. You don’t get to stay in your chair for long periods. “Hey, how do you [insert function/shortcut here]. Can you show me?”

Of course, the best part is sharing the fantastic material on the Interwebs. Free software, interesting independent comment on blogs, and of course, the funny stuff.

So last Friday, a column in in our local sphincter swiper of a newspaper, the West Australian, had triggered a number of people asking, “Have you ever heard of icanhascheezburger?”

The wise Ms Kolesnikova has decided that one of my favourite blogs is responsible for the degradation of the English language. Oh dear. I love language. I’m definitely a word nerd. But pik on LOLcat, sht b on. Srsly.

Now even the most humourless of people can fairly quickly ascertain that the kitteh’s continual failure to spell and punctuate correctly is part of the joke. In the LOLcat universe, not even Ceiling Cat has a perfect grasp of human English. Would ICHC be even remotely amusing if they crossed all the Ts and dotted the Is? And would anyone understand it if the language didn’t already exist?

Just like anything else funny, a lot of what is extracted depends greatly on the user. There are always going to be people that ‘get it’, people that don’t and people that pretend to. And there’s always going to be a difference of opinion on what the ‘it’ actually is. I’ve shared ICHC with people with Masters degrees in English and they’ve found it hilarious. I’ve shown a 12 year old child, who earnestly pointed out the spelling mistakes.

To suggest that ICHC is in some way responsible for “LOLspeak” infiltrating assessed writings in schools makes a mockery of a really important issue. This appalling development is far more attributable to the failure of schools and Education Departments to adapt to technologies being rapidly adopted in staggering numbers. Young people crave stimuli. If you wish to educate, you need to communicate. To communicate, you need to appeal and adapt to your audience. We need to more effectively incorporate the media young people are using into our education systems. They need to be exposed to sound language and grammar from an early age, in a way that makes them want to come back for more.

Find a way to make teaching people about the beauty, the joy, the incredible power of language that is interesting, engaging and funny, and young people will respond. A group of stuffy old people saying that “you should just do it this way” isn’t going to work. Neither is killing off a joke along the way, just because you can’t come up with a better one.

LOLspeak is a symptom, not a disease. The real issue is the lack of imagination (and funding) from within our education system.

When Duty Calls

I am the owner of a shiny new Playstation 3. Thanks to Tim, I am also the owner of a pair of reclining chairs. Now normally, reclining chairs + PS3 + projector + quality stereo=bliss. However, there is something profoundly disturbing about playing Call of Duty 4 on a high-definition screen that makes everything lifesize. Head shot=Jackson Pollock. The main part of the game is your typical, though disturbingly realistic, first person shooter. Turning up the subwoofer means you feel the shots, the explosions, and – when sniping – your heartbeat.

It is spectacular in its graphical realism, but still very much a video game.

There is one stage that blurs the lines though. “Death from Above” puts you in the role of a gun operator on an AC-130 Gunship. These are the converted cargo planes with guns/canons/howitzers protruding from the side like some sort of aerial spanish galleon. The gunners use video targeting systems (at night these are infra-red) which are recorded to produce the grotesque images you may have seen on the news.

What is so disturbing is the all-too-faithful reconstruction of this scenario in the game – complete with young men discussing their activity with bemused indifference at best, though more often it is exuberant glee.

This game has not “become” war, war has become a game. Point Camera. Press Button. Watch 7 men fly through the air as their now-lifeless bodies are propelled away from the explosion. Giggle. Repeat.

It’s the first time I’ve ever experienced guilt about my virtual behaviour, and definitely the first time I’ve felt compelled to have a cleansing shower after playing a video game. I was hardly any more detached playing this than the people who are doing it for real.

The Game:

The Real Thing:

5 Star Hotels

…are possibly the strangest places that I’ve ever had the misfortune of visiting.

I had the pleasure of assisting with a Conference at a local 5 star hotel over the last few days of last week, and I’ve learned some interesting things.

Firstly, there are two different types of confined space where they surround you with mirrors and play soothing classical music. This process allows for relaxation and introspection. You forget where you are. The unfortunate side effect of this is, as I was drifting off to the sweet sounds of Bach, I accidentally shat in the lift.

And speaking of cleaning, these places are obviously black holes for cheap exploitable labour. Someone is responsible for the gleaming power points, pillars, trolleys, plant pots… I don’t imagine they’re well compensated for their trouble, but you never see them so who knows…? I don’t imagine it is anyone’s dream job.

“I had the best day at work. Last night at 2:45 after a drunk guy tried to grope me in the hallway, I made the 4th pillar in the Golden Ballroom the shiniest it’s ever been!”

The staff did seem to respond positively to those of us that very obviously do not have high incomes. Having your $1500 bunky van parked by a valet is hilarious. But that is not nearly as hilarious as having it brought back. This is particularly entertaining when you’re striding out with an attractive colleague. The looks on the faces of the well-suited middle aged white men in the hotel foyer range from despair to disgust. “I have a BMW. Why is she leaving with him…?” I don’t think it would ever cross their minds, in fact I think their heads would explode, if they realised that these young women were my bosses. This hotel doesn’t appear to attract the sort of clientele that wouldn’t jump to more lascivious conclusions.

The aforementioned suited old men seem allergic to stairs and decency. No, I won’t hold the lift. (Fair enough though, given what I did in there) And no – the service staff aren’t actually people. I couldn’t possibly look them in the eye or thank them for their assistance. “Sometimes, people behave exactly as you’d assume or fear they would,” I was informed by the concierge.

There is however, one redeeming feature of this monument to absurd excess. Being able to ask a helpful waiter for a bowl of chips to feed the need for grease my esteemed leader was nursing after her night of “networking” is absolutely divine. Forget the 13 table-long buffet, or the endless supply of coffee. Food on command is the way every morning after the night before should function. And if it still doesn’t help, you can be further soothed by Mozart as you cling to the disturbingly shiny porcelain bowl.