It makes you wonder how they remember to breathe.

Sometimes when I am reading the paper I expect a bunch of people to run up to me and shout "SURPRISE! You're on Candid Camera!" or some shit. This is because what I am reading is ridiculous, and appears to be a massive joke dreamed up by a bunch of Fairfax executives in order to shift more copies.

Last night I had one of those exeperiences.

The most read article on smh.com today is entitled "Romantic escape ends with ticket to nowehere." The opening sentence describes the 'unbelievable nightmare' of Jennifer Clarke. This nightmare consists of being stuck in Thailand. On honeymoon. I can glean one of two reasons for this being described in such terms:

1. Jennifer discovered her new husband Adam agreed to the marriage with the sole purpose of getting a trip to Thailand to drink buckets of cheap whiskey and pick up lady-boys named Cassandra.

2. Jennifer ate a pad thai that had been sitting in a bain marie for slightly longer than Australian food safety regulations would allow, hasn't passed a motion for a week and is now desperate to get home to drink 10 litres of Metamucil.

Jennifer also commented eloquently on a bunch of other Australians refusing to pay for the accommodation they had been staying in while waiting around in tropical, nightmarish Thailand: "They are saying its not their fault all this has happened, so why should they pay?". Hey geniuses. Its not the fault of the Thai hotel operators either.

In more breathless reporting about the plight of poor Aussie battlers stranded on holiday, we are informed of the tragic situation of Luke Kennedy. He had to sit in a hotel room and watch repeat Thai television shows. I'm uncertain of what a repeat Thai television show is exactly, but it certainly sounds horrific.

The best was saved for last however, with the sad story of Leisa Chaisty. When her travel agent failed to provide her and her associates with any help, Leisa turned to Dad. Dad told her to call the embassy. Oh, yeah. She must have forgotten that Sarah from STA has little to no contact with Thai protestors jamming up the airport. Or Thai Airways management trying to facilitate the return home of hundreds of distressed Australians journeying to resort islands in the hope of fleeing endless cries of "Same same but different" and "Orange juice 10 baht" and the like.

So when you sleep soundly in your bed tonight, spare a thought for poor Jennifer, stranded on a tropical island, forced to spend a few more nights with her husband Adam. Who likes boys a little TOO much.

Oh, the humanity.

Old People.

Greetings friends and associates.

Today's sermon will be on the subject of our elder friends in the community. Nanas, Pops, Amcas, Great Aunty Bettys and the like. I recently set my own personal record for oldest person I have ever met when I hung out with a friend's great grandpa, who has managed to stick around for over 100 years. Think about it. Dede has lived through 2 world wars, 28 Turkish Prime Ministers, the birth of television, the death of television which coincided with the birth of Big Brother, and the development of little sachets that include coffee, creamer and sugar in one convenient package. Dede has some interesting stories to tell. He has seen shit. He can remember when Turkish was written in Arabic script. He tells stories that sound like they came from arthouse European films shot in black and white awarded prizes in German film festivals. He did military service in Cannakale when Anzac troops were practically still on their way home.

This got me thinking. Thanks to facebook and the popularity of blogs and shit, where any retard (myself included) can record in minute detail every insignificant event in their lives, one hundred years from now people will know far too much about OUR history. The time has come people. Go find the oldest person you know and ask them stuff about when you weren't around. Ask them ANYTHING. You may get a whole bunch of Abe Simpson style nineteen dickety two stories, and amongst all that you may find a little bit of gold. Write it down. Tell your friends. Keep it alive people, cause these people aren't going to be around for too much longer and they have stuff to say.

Onions on belts. It was the style at the time.