Amy Winehouse qualifies for the 27 Club

I woke this morning to the news that musician Amy Winehouse had been found dead at her London home. I can't say I'm at all surprised but I am more than a little saddened at the loss of a great talent well before she should have hit her prime.

Amy Winehouse's lifestyle was truly a train wreck in progress; no-one really wanted to see the chaos she was creating, yet they also couldn't look away. Her battles with drug and alcohol addiction, along with those ridiculous eyelashes, were parodied by many, including our own Beatgirls. It's a real shame, as it totally overshadowed her musical talent while supplying the tabloids with endless fodder.

Right from the start, I could tell that Amy Winehouse was something different. She wasn't merely a singer; she was a very talented musician who acknowledged her musical influences by giving them a a contemporary twist. I eagerly awaited the follow-up album to Back to Black that never came.

So it looks like that 27 Club may have a new member. The 'Club' comprises a group of influential rock musicians who died at the age of 27 and its current members include Brian Jones, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix. Later, Kurt Cobain was added. I'm sure Amy will make it onto the list sometime soon; she would certainly qualify.

RIP Amy Winehouse. Hopefully you will find the peace in death that eluded you in life.

Amy Winehouse (1983-2011)

Image source: http://www.amywinehouse.com
Used without permission

The "new" Vegemite

The Vegemite publicity machine is in top gear this week. For years, the question has simply been "Vegemite or Marmite?", followed by lengthy and often heated debate, much like Coke vs Pepsi. For me it's Vegemite all the way and, yes, I can tell the difference. For those of you who reply "neither" ... *sigh*.

This week, the debate has a new dimension added. A few months ago, a new Vegemite product was tentatively launched to complement (not replace) the original Vegemite. Adding cream cheese to the original recipe was meant to make it easier to spread and more convenient to snack on. Taste tests showed that the product wasn't too bad. I haven't tasted it yet myself but am curious about the outcome. An international campaign to find a name for the new product (which most people haven't tasted) was launched, and the winning name was declared iSnack 2.0. What on earth does that have to do with Vegemite? And how was this the best suggestion from a pool of more than 48,000 entries??

The name was eventually given a huge thumbs down ... after several hundred thousand jars rolled off the production line. With these labels now destined to become collectors' items, the public are, once again, being asked to vote on a new name. The timeframe is tight; voting finishes at midday on Monday 5 October. But haven't we already done that?

This time, six suggestions are given and voters are asked to rank them in order of preference. To be honest, they're all incredibly boring and some of them are as random as iSnack 2.0 was. At most, the voting process is probably an attempt by Kraft to milk every last bit of publicity from a campaign that didn't exactly set the yeast spread world on fire to begin with. I have a feeling that, no matter what winning name is announced on Wednesday 7 October, the product will forever be known as the "new" Vegemite.

Cadbury eats humble pie

Cadbury has been forced to eat humble pie this week and backtrack on their decision to replace a percentage of the cocoa butter in their Dairy Milk recipe with palm oil. New Zealand was made aware of the change when Auckland Zoo first banned Cadbury products from its kiosk a couple of months ago and also stopped buying other products containing palm oil.

Producing palm oil requires the clearing of rainforests in South East Asia, the natural habitat of the orang-utan. While Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate is not the only product containing palm oil, it was judged as a very backwards decision to start using palm oil in place of cocoa butter and labelling it as "vegetable oil". Would anyone like to explain that decision to this happy family?

And so the boycott began. Cadbury received hundreds of letters and emails of complaint. Opinion pieces were written and published. Various Facebook protest groups were formed, including Take palm oil out of Cadbury chocolate bars!, which attracted nearly 3500 members. Consumers voted with their wallets, and Whittaker's was the winner on the day, reporting that demand for their chocolate products had significantly increased.

Cadbury managing director, Matthew Oldham, said the decision to go back to using only cocoa butter in Cadbury Dairy Milk was in direct response to consumer feedback.

While Cadbury might not make the best quality chocolate, the number of products it makes each year is significant. I grew up with Cadbury chocolate but mostly buy (bought) it to use in baking. I have chocolate purist friends who won't even use it to bake with! Whether consumers will now forgive Cadbury and go back to buying their chocolate remains to be seen, but there's no doubt that some major market damage has been done. As for me? The jury is still out; I may eventually go back to baking with Cadbury chocolate, but will continue to shop around for better options.

I love it when the little guy wins and a multi-national conglomerate is forced to listen to its customers. After all, without customers, where would any company be?

World's largest cupcake

Here's a bit of fun ... the world's largest cupcake was baked on Saturday. It weighed in at 68 kg, measuring 2 feet wide and 1 foot tall, with 15 pounds of fudge filling (yum!) and 60 pounds of yellow icing. Wow!

I wonder how big the skewer (stick, pole?) was they inserted to see whether it was cooked? And who has an oven that big? Or a mixing bowl?? I think I'll stick to baking and decorating medium or petite sized cupcakes - the ingredients for this one alone look to be more than I'll ever use in a lifetime!

RIP Michael Jackson

Like much of the Western world, I was both shocked and saddened to hear about the death of Michael Jackson yesterday. For me, his death will be one of those "where were you when you heard ..." moments, just like I remember the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, and others before me would remember when John F Kennedy was shot. FYI, I was standing in a registration queue for the upcoming Wellington Marathon on Sunday, having just listened to the news while driving there that Michael Jackson had been taken to hospital after suffering a cardiac arrest. There was a large TV screen abovve the registration desk and CNN news was broadcasting; someone next to me looked up and said, "what, Michael Jackson is dead?". We all looked to the scrolling headlines and then I got a txt from my sweetie: "Michael Jackson is dead". Just like that.

I immediately started planning a blog post in my mind. I've thought about it overnight and realise that everything has been said already. Simon Sweetman's blog post entitled Michael Jackson's music summed it all up for me; I'm not interested in the allegations, eccentricities, behaviours, or tabloid fodder either. I may post some bits and pieces over the next week or so; we'll see.

It angers me to hear artists like Jackson called "singers"; performers, musicians, and composers deserve far more credit than that, especially someone who has attained such outstanding musical heights. And it's not just about record sales, either. I have said for nearly 13 years now that Michael Jackson's 1996 History tour to Auckland is the best concert I have ever seen and the yardstick I measure every other event with; none have even come close and I can't imagine they ever will. Three hours of non-stop, high-energy entertainment with brilliant music and exceptional staging; I remember saying to the friends I went with that I'm not surprised he collapses after concerts after all the effort that goes into them. Just when we thought the show couldn't possibly get any better, it did.

I don't want to hear about Jackson's 'weird' life, his chequered history, and anything to do with kids being dangled over balconies or 'playing' at his ranch. Now is not the time. For all the people posting on tribute sites, "was never a fan, don't really care" etc, why bother? Please just stay quiet. I'm happy to indulge in a joke or two about his life and/or death, but my overall mood is sad. The world has truly lost a musical genius.

Michael Jackson (1958-2009)

When the news happens to you

Yesterday, I went out to photograph someone who I thought was a brave, yet foolhardy, windsurfer. Part of me admired his thrill-seeking spirit, while the rest of me was just plain freezing cold. At the same time at Lyall Bay, a surfing beach across town, a surfer died after colliding with another surfer out on the water.

The surfer was my childhood neighbour. He is six weeks younger than me (33) and has a wife and two young daughters, with a third baby on the way in January. A lifelong surfer, he would have seen our recent stormy weather as an adventure-seeking opportunity, quite the opposite to me, who is more than happy to cuddle up with a book and a cup of coffee. Along with our neighbours on the other side of my parents' home, we all grew up together; we still call each others' mothers "Aunty" and fathers "Uncle", even though we're not technically related like that. Our parents' families also grew up in the same local community and originated from the same small village in Italy, Stromboli. Our roots go far beyond merely living in the same neighbourhood.

How is it possible to feel shocked, devastated, numb, and disbelieving all at the same time? So far, this morning has dragged on for an eternity, yet it has only been about an hour and a half since I heard the news. I don't know what to do with myself; any actions will somehow mean that I have to confirm the news in one way or another, either inside of my own mind or in relation to the rest of the world. Like everyone, my family awaits further details. How can the news be something that has happened to us?

Words simply cannot describe the emotions I feel right now.

RIP Tony.

Unlucky for some?

I had to laugh when I read an article in this morning's news entitled No number for witches in Palmy. Until, that is, I realised they were being serious. Then, I laughed even harder!

What is it with the number 13? For Italians, 13 is quite a lucky number (I forget why). In fact, the number 17 is considered to be "a disgrace", so when my parents built their house at number 17, my grandmother was shocked! They're still there nearly 40 years later, so it can't have been too bad after all. However, the odd numbers in their street go straight from #11 to #15 because, apparently, no-one wanted #13. How many times have I stayed in a motel that has rooms number #11, #12, #12A, #14 ...? (Probably 13 times!) And what about the number 4, signalling "death" in Chinese culture? Our street numbers could end up incredibly creative if we could all pick and choose our addresses based on whatever superstition we decided to go with.

It appears that some people go to great lengths to avoid 'unlucky' numbers, and Palmerston North is one place where this is not only possible, but actually legal! When my cousin and his wife found a specialist hospital for the upcoming birth of their baby, the clinic they chose seems to have an even more unfortunate address: 666 High Street. Gulp!

So, as I sit here this morning at #13, I figure that my luck is probably neutral: unlucky in Palmerston North, but lucky in Italy. I know where I'd rather be. ;-)

And the winner is ...

Occasionally, in amongst all the doom and gloom we see and hear in the news each day, something so ridiculous turns up that one can't help but wondering at other people's stupidity. This happened earlier this week, when two prisoners escaped from a police escort through a side door at the district court. All well and good, except they were handcuffed together, and hadn't quite worked out some vital details.

It would appear that their communication and decision making skills were not quite in sync:

"Their break for freedom came to an embarrassing end when they chose to run on different sides of a lamp-post. They swung around the pole and collided with each other before collapsing in a tangle. Each blamed the other for their actions."

Their escape bid was made even more shameful when they were caught on closed circuit tv, and the video was promptly posted on YouTube, as well as on the news and a news site.



Read the full story here.

Thanks, guys. You win the award for "stupidest and most comedic recent escape attempt".

eDay 2008

Saturday is NZ's annual eDay, when you can recycle your old PC or mobile phone at locations all around the country. It's free, and the junk in the bottom of your cupboard will supposedly be either recycled or disposed of in an environmentally-friendly way. There is a whole range of hardware you can hand in, and surely that's got to beat having it collect dust at home, or paying a fortune to dump it yourself.

I'm wondering if I can hand over my dying laptop? (I suppose not, as it's technically not mine, nor legally dead yet, although I'm incredibly tempted. The good news is that I'm getting a shiny new Macbook Pro next Friday - yay!). My sweetie has a computer monitor and a few other bits and bobs from work to get rid of. I'd like to think I can "do the right thing" and dispose of lots of junk thoughtfully, but I don't really have that much that fits the bill in the first place.

But, anyway, there's my tiny bit of green.

Taking it to the streets

I'm not much of an official protester; I prefer to moan to my nearest and dearest, rather than do something decisive and take action. Living in Wellington, and working quite close to Parliament for several years, protests and rallies were happening every time do-gooders hatched half-baked plans over a drink or three. I was walking down Lambton Quay with a friend one lunchtime and he noticed the closed lanes on the other side of the road, commenting (with rolled eyes), "who's protesting this time?". Turns out it was the Victoria University of Wellington graduation parade ... doh!

One would think that, with an election so close at hand, that political protests, demonstrations and rallies would be hitting the headlines. However, once again, the nation is getting ready for a planned protest, and this time it's for a cause I support.

The Sugar Liberation Army plans to protest tomorrow outside the Cadbury's Dunedin premises to protest the chopping of Snifters, Sparkles and Tangy Fruits, favourites of movie-goers for decades. Concerned residents will stage Operation Tang Protest at 5:30pm. A spokesperson for the group says, "in a world of financial uncertainty and economic crisis, we turn to nostalgia for small comforts". They go on to say that, "Cadbury-Schweppes Pty Ltd is denying everyday New Zealanders the sweet, confectionary nostalgia of their forefathers". Hear, hear!

Stand strong, SLA - the nation depends on you to save these fledgling kiwi icons. Kia kaha!

Getting there on the big day

I came across this article today about a bride who was using public transport to get to her wedding in Christchurch. I guess it's kind of a novelty, as most brides tend to go all out for their big day and few would choose to travel in such style.

One of the most memorable weddings I have ever been to started out this way. The groom said he'd organise for himself, his two brothers and their partners, and a couple of close friends to travel from his home in Christchurch to the wedding venue in Diamond Harbour. We packed overnight bags, as we were staying in an historic villa, and were told to hurry up because the bus was coming soon.

We didn't realise that "the bus" was actually a public bus that left from the end of his street. It was going to take us to the bus depot in town, where we'd catch another one to Lyttelton, then the ferry across to Diamond Harbour before walking up a hill to the wedding venue, all dressed in our glad rags!

The look on the driver's face as we hopped aboard the first bus was nothing less than sceptical, as the groom bid him good morning and said, "how much to get my family to my wedding?". I think he finally believed us once the guitar came out and we started a singalong in the back few rows of the bus. Other passengers joined in the party, too. We repeated this process as we picked up more people on another bus and a ferry, in 31 degree Celsius heat, and made our merry way to the wedding.

An experience I've never repeated.

Six degrees of separation

Apparently there are six degrees of separation in the world. That means that, in theory, anyone on the planet can be connected to any other person on the planet through a chain of acquaintances that has no more than five intermediaries. There is a Facebook application dedicated to it although, to be honest, I've never really figured out how it works.

Microsoft studied more than 30 billion electronic conversations among 180 million people and found that on average 6.6 "hops" were needed to link two apparently unconnected people. A commentator said that people in New Zealand were often said to have only two degrees of separation. Well, it's frequently said that Wellington is a village, and everyone knows everyone here (practically). Again, I'm not entirely sure how that's possible but it seems to be true.

A couple of years ago, friends held a six degrees of separation party. They were worried that their guests, who came from very different interest/work groups would not find anything in common at their party and stick to themselves, so they engineered a little experiment to get people to mix and match. I ended up meeting up with a former neighbour, who now lived in their neighbourhood, and a couple of others who knew my father through musical circles. I think they worked out that everyone at their party were separated by four degrees.

But here's my two degrees of separation ... this morning, New Zealand woke to the news that Jemaine Clement, Wellington's own celebrity from Flight of the Conchords fame, has married his long-time girlfriend, Miranda Manasiadis. Miranda and I used to go to school (primary and secondary) together. We'd sit together on the bus into town each morning and, through sleep-encrusted eyes, talk about trivial teenage stuff. I remember when she first started acting (we were Iris and Ceres, mythical gods in the school production of The Tempest, wearing the most ridiculous costumes you've ever seen). I was really pleased to see that she pursued a career in theatre, and now she has bagged one of Wellington's most eligible bachelors.

Convoy

This morning, there was a nationwide protest from the country's truckies who objected to a sudden rise in road user charges, despite government promises to not do so without further discussion. I won't go into details, but it's had a lot of airtime in NZ's media this week.

And so the details of the protest unfolded. Truckies planned to block the major cities' highways and town centres by driving in convoy from sunrise. Delays were expected and commuters were advised to leave their cars at home or travel out of peak times. Mayhem was on the way!

Pics, details, and comments about what actually happened can be found here. This is what the Wellington motorway coming into town (in the right lane) looked like this morning. [Yes, we're lucky to have a picturesque motorway along the waterfront. Yes, we realise this doesn't look like congestion to anyone living overseas, but believe me when I say that for us it's quite a lot of traffic, especially at the pace that it's moving.] Sympathetic commuters were supportive and not too bothered. Hopefully, some positive action will result from it.

I can't help wonder whether these truckies were singing CW McCall's Convoy as they drove into town. A tiny change in the lyrics and we're all set:

Cause we gotta mighty convoy, rockin' through the night
Yeah we gotta mighty convoy, ain't she a beautiful sight?
Come on an' join our convoy, ain't nothin' gonna git in our way
We're gonna roll this truckin' convoy, cross the motorway
Convoy... Convoy...

Go truckies!

Photo by Rob Kitchin/Dominion Post
© 2008 Stuff

Who's a clever boy then?

Who indeed?

I love this story. Gone are the days of parrots saying "pretty Polly". (Or, in the case of my two, simply "pretty pretty".) This Japanese fellow knows how to greet people, and sing popular children's songs .. .but that's not all. He also managed to recite his name and address and earn himself a safe return trip home after flying away ten days earlier!

Hmm, I wonder if it's too late to teach Luca and Enrico a few more phrases?