September 2006 Archives

Schwarzenegger Signs Global Warming Bill

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Man, is this a sign of the changing times. The chap who helped make the Hummer an American icon has carried-off a feat of political contortion worthy of a circus performer. Where once he would possibly have made fun of such 'girly-man' concerns, it would appear that the Climate Change issue is finally getting through to even the most hardened of hearts. Thank God.

He's signed into a law a bill which:

'...imposes a first-in-the-nation emissions cap on utilities, refineries and manufacturing plants in a bid to curb the gases that scientists blame for warming the Earth. Two years ago, a state board adopted tight regulations on automobile tailpipe emissions, an initiative that is being challenged in federal court by automakers.'

You may now feel free to post crap, Terminator-related comments and jokes below...

Green your Apple

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green_apple.jpg An interesting and timely new campaign from Greenpeace, called 'Green my Apple'. As a recent convert to the Apple cause, I'm a big supporter of this idea. I truly, deeply, madly love my new MacBook but was rather surprised by the amount of wasteful packaging that came with it. But the problem, it seems, is rather worse than needless packaging.

pout.jpgNow. Listen up, you shower of fucking twonks. This blog, like every other blog on blather.net, is equipped with the Statcounter functionality. In plain English, this is a small piece of code which we insert into every blog, which allows us to see how many visitors we get each day. However, and this is the bit where you, yes fucking you, should pay attention, it also allows us to see what brought people to the site.

The Roar of the Twink

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twink.jpgBejesus. Twink, for those of you who don't know, is something of a household name in Ireland: a veteran of the cabaret and light entertainment scene this last thirty years. And whilst no-one could claim her to be national treasure in the mould of a Flann or a David Norris, she does hold a certain place in Irish peoples' hearts.

Indeed, I recall with misty-eyed nostalgia, that time when a ten-year-old birdbath was attending a cabaret act with the Ma and Da, and having waved across the room to my sister, found a spotlight trained on my position and Twink charging towards me, arms outstreched: obviously the poor lady had made the mistake of thinking that I was waving at her. Ever the entertainer, and fearing not the great unwashed, she proceeded to slap a great big wet kiss on my freckled mush and, perhaps, inadvertently started the ball rolling on a life of rank perversion and vile, sexual depravity. But I digress.

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