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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 3 years

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The Goonies: A Product of the Times

Released in 1985, The Goonies came along right smack in the middle of a decade well-known for its movies centered on youth. While there are plenty of fond memories of the ‘teen oriented’ films like The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Adventures in Babysitting, Hollywood of the 1980s was focused on more than just the teenagers: it was also pretty heavily focused on what it was like to be a kid.

From Flight of the Navigator, The Explorers, and The Monster Squad to E.T., the Extra-Terrestrial, a lot of the films of the 1980s were about the adventures of people under the age of 14: children. Ranging from sci-fi to comedy, to horror, to adventure, the movies about kids during this decade of the new and untested were getting as big as everything else: more and more impressive as an entire subgenre of children’s movies starring up-and-coming child stars (Drew Barrymore, Fred Savage, River Phoenix, Corey Haim, and plenty more) sprouted up out of the ground, playing the gambit of genres and allowing children to act in ways that hadn’t been deeply explored before. These weren’t adult films with roles for children: a lot of these were movies about kids.

Instead of movies like The Champ or Aliens, starring children in side roles, films like The Goonies, Return to Oz, Stand By Me, and Time Bandits starred kids in the main roles, carrying the stories themselves with incredible performances, broadening the horizons for adventure films about kids, for kids.

Such is The Goonies, a film that really could only have been made in the 1980s.

How do I know that?

Simple.

As we’ve discussed before, no film ever made is separate from the culture it was created in. Every single movie, television show, radio broadcast, book, newspaper, comic or song ever made has been directly impacted by the culture and other pieces of media surrounding it.

This seems pretty obvious: after all, a product made by people living in a certain kind of culture is going to reflect that culture. No film is an island, and while that seems pretty self-explanatory and without much need for discussion, in an era with more and more pieces of media debated as to their worth to a modern viewpoint, it leaves those of us who enjoy older movies with a very important question:

How ‘dated’ is too dated?

It’s not as easy a question to answer as it might seem.

See, ‘dated’ is an interesting term.

Typically, the word ‘dated’ is used to apply to anything discernibly created in a specific time period. It’s synonymous with ‘old fashioned’, when applied to a film, it carries the implication that the movie is less understandable by those looking from outside that particular culture or time period, worsened by the cultural drift. This would be a film that hasn’t ‘aged well’, most often describing contemporary films of the day. By contrast, a film that’s considered ‘timeless’ is the exact opposite: a film that remains completely understandable following a change in the culture. This is a film without a cultural footprint or identity, without any actual context, able to be enjoyed no matter how much time has passed.

These are words that get thrown around a lot in the film world. There are plenty of arguments over which films are timeless, and which are dated, whether Die Hard shows its age too much to be enjoyed, or whether Commando is too ridiculously ‘80s to be watched in any other context, but the fact is, the argument is a lot more complicated than it seems to be boiled down into.

We’ve talked a lot about definitions, but the fact is, by strict definitions, no movie, or any piece of media ever made, is actually ‘timeless’. Every film is a product of its times, but that does not mean necessarily that they are defined by their times. With this in mind, films like The Terminator and Predator, while set and made in the 1980s, are not exactly dated, because they are not defined by the 1980s. Anyone with the slightest understanding of the idea that times change can accept things like hairstyles, music changes, and special effects. Like I said, a film is considered ‘dated’ if it is less understandable or enjoyable in hindsight, from a place outside of that specific culture, and things like the movie tips and tricks of decades past are fairly easily forgiven.

Less easily overlooked are ideas.

If a ‘timeless’ film is a movie not defined by its own times, then a ‘dated’ one is a film that is defined by its culture, typically in a negative way.

So, the question is: which is The Goonies?

Timeless iconic kid’s adventure film, or dated ‘80s flick?

Well, it’s kind of hard to say at first glance.

By externals, there’s no question. The way the kids are dressed and Mouth’s use of the word ‘gnarly’ pretty clearly set this film in the mid 1980s, as does the fact that nobody has a cell phone to call their parents. But as we’ve already established, there’s a bit more to it than that.

The cast is fairly typical of its day: all white except for Rosalita, the Spanish-speaking housekeeper, and mostly male. The two female Goonies do allow for a little more range than is sometimes portrayed in kid adventure films, with a Tomboy and Girly Girl dynamic that normalizes more than a standard Token Female per group, and even Mama Fratelli (although by no means a role model for young girls) balances out by being a memorable villain, bringing the gender ratio a tiny bit closer to even than a lot of contemporary films. With that said though, there isn’t really anything that I’d argue idea wise in this sense that dates the film terribly badly, aside from a series of fat jokes at Chunk’s expense and a moment where Andy is given the unfortunately expected treatment of having her date try to look up her skirt, which was considerably more shrugged off at the time (although she does get him for it later, offscreen).

And there are other elements too that indicate that this film is from a different time:

A PG in 1985 for a kid’s film was very different from a PG now, and it shows. The language used by a lot of the kids, as well as the violence, drug jokes, and other material has proven to shock more than one fan who went back to watch The Goonies as an adult. And that’s not all: the basic concept of kids banding together in this way, while making a resurgence in the form of Stranger Things, hasn’t really stuck around for very long.

After the 1980s, the ‘band of kids’ adventure story somewhat died out. By the 1990s, the ‘kid’ adventure stories calmed down, with lower stakes and less danger, and while the trope still appears in ‘retro’ nostalgia pieces, for the most part, we simply don’t see it anymore, and the idea still tends to bring to mind stories like Stand By Me, The Monster Squad, and even It.

It’s just a statement of fact, and not nostalgia, to look at this film and remark: “They don’t make them like this anymore.” Because they don’t.

In most movies today, kids don’t run around in tunnels, having a blast and looking for buried treasure without their parents or any adult supervision, with their lives in danger, all the while quirky, peppy music assures the audience that everything’s going to be okay. That’s not necessarily good or bad, it just means times have changed, and that the way that The Goonies was made was directly influenced by the types of movies coming out at the time.

However, while that style may bring to mind the 1980s, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s specifically enjoyed in that era.

As a matter of fact, there’s a lot about The Goonies that’s like that.

The basic premise of the story, while not necessarily common anymore, is still understandable to people decades later. Just because we no longer dress or talk like 1985 anymore doesn’t mean that the core essentials of the film are rendered completely unrelatable. Kids still become friends and don’t want to move away from them, that much is understandable. Even though the style of filmmaking has changed, the characters really haven’t: we all know a Data, or a Mouth, or a Chunk, or a Mikey, sometimes we even are one of them. Kids understand the danger they’re in: not just losing their lives, but their homes, their friendships. These characters and their story still ring true decades later, even if there are things about it that point to its creation being set in the mid ‘80s.

In short?

No, The Goonies probably couldn’t have been made today. But that doesn’t mean it can’t still be enjoyed today.

There’s surprisingly little that actually harmfully dates the film itself, and the film is, in many ways, just as exciting and fun as it was when it was first released. Honestly, there’s the possibility that due to the lack of movies like it made today, the film actually has a larger impact and is more unique and memorable now than it was in 1985.

And while the quality of the film has not shifted, as the time around it does, I think we’ll find that as the film gets older, more audiences will continue to discover it, forty, fifty, sixty years later and find that the movie still tugs at a nostalgic part of them and makes them feel like children again.

The Goonies is a fun, exciting, charming story that has remained beloved so long partially due to nostalgia, but also because people genuinely love the story and characters, proving that a film is ‘timeless’, not because you can tell what decade it was made in, but because it has endured, because people still enjoy it after the culture has changed.

If you can watch The Goonies and love these characters and enjoy their adventure, it doesn’t matter that Mouth is wearing parachute pants or that some of the character cliches haven’t been used in thirty years. In the end, a film’s quality has little to do with how easily we can tell what time the film was made in, and a lot to do with what it’s about, and how well people remember it. If that’s the criteria, then The Goonies is pretty timeless.

The Goonies has lasted this long as an ‘80s staple, and an adventure movie classic in general because no matter if it’s 1985 or 2085, people can understand it, enjoy it, and relate to the characters and themes. And that’s the reason it will continue to endure.

It’s been over thirty years since those kids first trekked into the caves to save the Goondocks, and the audience for this film has done nothing but grow since then. The characters and the heart of the film have gone unchanged since then, still entertaining and even touching audience members who remember what it was like to be a kid and want ‘their time’, and they will continue to endure for decades.

Thank you guys so much for reading! If you have something you’d like to add or say, don’t forget that the comment box is always open! I hope to see you all in the next article.

#The Goonies #The Goonies 1985 #80s #1985 #Film #Movies #PG #Adventure #Comedy #Family #Sean Astin #Josh Brolin #Jeff Cohen #Corey Feldman #Kerri Green #Martha Plimpton #Ke Huy Quan #Richard Donner

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r3b3lgrrrrrrrl · 5 years

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A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 44) "Don't Talk Shit Around Nix."

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@lovemythsworld

"Who EVEN is she though?? I mean, WHAT is this? She's this underground thing and in a week she's everywhere? With everyone? Like she's the new coming of Diddy. Featuring people all up in her video. Singing with MGK on stage. She's nothing without these people."

It's Monday morning in NY and BeBe Rexah is rattling off to Charlemagne on The Breakfast Club.

Nikki Minaj is sitting next to her, on her phone, sending out a text to Luna before she speaks. "Hold up. Hold up. Hold up." She starts, waving a long, hot pink, manicured finger in the air. NY accent THICK. "I know you ain't tawking bout That Brooklyn Bitch needing people." Nikki laughs as she leans back and glares at BeBe, arms crossed.

"I am. Who the fuck is she without them?" She cocks her head at Nikki.

Charlemagne is watching the women.

"Yous a dumb hoe." She clicks her nails at her. "How da fuck you gonna be from BROOKLYN, or even in da music industry and not know who da fuck she is?" Nikki looks over at Charlemagne, appalled. "What they say, Char?" She asks him.

Charlemagne laughs, reciting with Nikki.

"You ain't shit until you been shot by a LunaTic."

She points in his direction, sucking her teeth. "Word. You know what it is." She then looks BeBe up and down, with pursed lips, saying "Obviously YOU don't and ain't shit, you..." She stops herself. "You know what. Link me up real quick. You wanna know about That Bitch. Imma call That Bitch." She hands her phone to Charlemagne.

He takes it leerily "She gonna be HOT, Nikki." He tells her.

Nikki shrugs knowing Luna. "You know she'd be hotter wit somebody speaking on her name."

"Wait, wait, wait!!" BeBe interrupts "You're calling her?"

"YUP." Nikki pops her lips, irritated as she sits back in her chair again.

*********************************************

It's 7A in LA when Luna's phone rings.

"It is early as fuck, Nix. What's going on?" Nikki is going off on the other line. Sleepy and confused, Luna asks "BeBe who?"

Colson pops his head up, her phone had woken him up too. They're both on their stomachs, but she's facing away. He nudges her so she'll look at him. "Bleta." He says with half open eyes.

She gives him a look of 'What the Fuck?'

********************************************

Luna answers the phone thinking she's only talking to Nikki as she starts in, hype. "Yo, Loons!! There's this chick, BeBe Rexha, runnin' her mouf bout you, tryin' to be all Sug Knight, comparing you to Diddy and shit."

"BeBe who?" She groans. Looking at Colson, it clicks to her annoyance.

"Morning, Bitch. Nikki forgot to tell you you're On Air" Charlemagne chimes in.

"NIIKKII!! Seriously!?" Luna asks, recognizing Charlemagne's voice immediately. Rolling over quickly onto her back, whacking her shoulder into Colson, both of them jerk from it as she sits straight up. "It's 7A!! Why am I On Air???" She groans again. This time in pain.

In the studio, Charlemagne gives Nikki an 'I told you so' look to which she flips him the middle finger. "Because Loons, this bitch got questions and wanna run her mouf..."

"I'm not running my mouth. I just said she popped..." BeBe interrupts Nikki.

"BITCH!! You is too!!" Nikki snaps.

"This can't be fucking happening. How is this ShitShow my fucking life." Luna thinks to herself in disbelief. Rubbing her face, she looks over at Colson. Making a decision.

"YO." Luna interrupts them both. "Chill. Charlemagne, you got it, My Dude. Official statement. Yes. That Brooklyn Bitch and Machine Gun Kelly are EXCLUSIVELY" She looks over at Colson again. He kisses her elbow. "Dating. Each other. And only each other."

Nikki let's out a whoop and a clap.

"Shut up, Nix." Luna laughs continuing more seriously "Bleta. I don't know you. I don't speak on you. BUT, you know, that you been known. He told you. Respect that. And keep my names out cha mouth."

BeBe starts in but Luna interrupts her.

"I don't wanna fucking hear it." She stops the stranger before continuing. "Char, since you got the official word... Y'all listening out there, check out Nightmare, it's fighting for our rights as women. Bad Things, banging a little love story. Both are streaming now. MGK, Hotel Diablo drops July 5th. Make sure you check that out. It's gnarly as hell..... Nix call me when you're done. Char always a pleasure. Bleta..... Take care. See you guys." Luna hangs up without waiting for any responses.

Charlemagne and Nikki laugh knowing Luna all too well. "I think that's the first time she's ever been on here." He says to Nikki.

"Probably. You know she don't roll like dat."

BeBe sits silently. Pissed as hell. Deciding she wants THAT song.

--------------------------------------------------

Walking out of the studio, Nikki calls Luna. She's not surprised when she doesn't answer, it's still early for her friend. Nikki had met Luna years ago back in Manhattan. Rapping on the corner across from The Apollo, she had caught Luna's ear and eye. Finding the woman mesmerizing, Luna started to shoot her. Nikki got pissed, causing an all out brawl between Luna and herself right in the middle of West 125th. Nikki breaking Luna's camera and busting her bottom lip WIDE open. Luna breaking Nikki's nose in return. Luna left, spitting blood, stating Nikki would regret her actions. Nikki blew the tiny white girl off. Later, they had found themselves both in Queens General, waiting for their injuries to be treated. After mean mugging each other for a bit. Nikki asked her why she was taking her picture anyway. Luna had told her that it was because Nikki was really good at her craft and she wanted to capture her still raw before she broke into the world. That she had thought it was a beautiful moment. Until Nikki had been a cunt. That broke the ice. Nikki moved to sit next to Luna as they continued waiting, loving her candor and unflinching hardness. Talking about music and life. Creating a friendship. They had walked home together sharing a blunt. Both laughing at Luna struggling with the 7 stitches in her lip. She has a scar to this day and Nikki regrets wrecking the photo.

-------------------------------------------------

Still sitting up, Luna looks at Colson.

"What the fuck was THAT?" He asks, passing her the joint he has lit. She shrugs her shoulder, putting her arms out like 'I don't know'.

Taking it from him, she lays back on the bed beside him to enjoy it. Sighing, she really doesn't know. "We're gonna have to pull it up later. Nix was on The Breakfast Club and so was Bleta? BeBe? Whatever the fuck her name is...I don't know. Nix said she was talking shit. You heard what I said." She hits the joint again.

He laughs "Yeah, free, killer fucking plugs. For someone on an independent lable, you sure as fuck know how to promote, Kitten." He laughs again, rolling over to kiss her.

"You're welcome." She teases, passing him the joint.

"Thank you." He's still laughing, looking over at Luna. She's staring off. "Hey, she's just mad....." He tells her softly, still smoking the joint.

"She can be mad. She can also keep my name outta her fucking mouth." She says kissing Colson.

It's not even 8A and they were up late as usual. She pops 2 percs. He puts the joint out. Climbing into him, he kisses her head.

"You outed us on The Breakfast Club." He chuckles.

"I knoooowwww." She whines into his neck before they both drift off to sleep.

--------------------------------------------------

Luna wakes back up, buried underneath Colson's naked body. Wiggling her ass into him, she stretches. He stirs in her hair, moaning her name. She wakes him up further, rubbing her soft feet along his legs, feeling his dick start to grow hard against her. She reaches for him, stroking it firmly as he slides his finger inside of her.

"You're always so wet."

He moans into her ear. His finger making her wetter. He slides into her from behind, lazily laying on his right side. He pulls her into him by the hips.

A moan escapes as she feels him fully enter her. He reaches around, playing with her tits and piercings as she slowly shifts back and forth on his dick.

"You feel so fucking good." She tells him as he slides his right hand under her and around her throat, pushing himself into her harder. She props up on her right side slightly to give herself more leverage as she slides along him harder.

Holding her by one hip and her throat. Colson is pumping into her faster, getting ready to cum. He stops suddenly, deep inside of her. He holds her tightly in place as he feels her body quiver and cum from his girth.

"Oh FUCK, Colson." She moans. With her body shaking in his arms, he gives her a few more deep thrusts before cumming hard. They lay there, wrapped in each other, tingly and sweaty. He kisses the back of her neck. "I love you, Kitten."

Sighing happily, she replies "I love you too, Bunny."

He slides out of her and the bed to find a joint before they take a shower.

--------------------------------------------------

Colson's in the kitchen with Slim and Rook. Luna hasn't made it down stairs yet. "This cunt is FUCKING retarded!!" He says in amazement, opening his Insta. The first post is by BeBe Rexha. It's an old selfie of them. The caption under reads:

To the hardest working man in the industry. You do everything, Boo. Couldn't be more proud. You'll always be my #MCM 💕

"Yoooo... LunaTic is gonna SNAP." Slim says, agreeing with Colson that this girl has to be slow.

"Why would she do that?" Rook asks.

"I don't know." Colson responds, running his hands through his hair "There was some big thing between her and Nikki on The Breakfast Club this morning. It was so bad Nikki put Luna On-Air without her knowing."

"WHAAAAT!??" Slim is shocked.

Colson puts his face in his hands. "Bleta's jealous and taking it too far. Luna's gonna fucking kill somebody when she sees this." He says.

"I already fucking seen it." Luna says walking into the kitchen. She walks over to grab a cup of coffee.

"You ok?" Colson asks her. She has on a long green, army style jacket. She holds her arms out straight, the back of it stating 'I HATE EVERYONE" making Colson laugh.

"Am I in that group?" He asks as she climbs into his lap.

"Nooooo...." She sighs, "I'm just tired and hate the world." She looks down at Colson's phone on the table, seeing the post again. "This girl is dumb. Like, so dumb, I'm not even mad at her." She rolls her eyes as she lights a joint.

Rook and Slim agree in unison.

Knowing she doesn't have an Instagram, Colson asks how she saw it.

She shows him her phone. There's texts and copies of the post from Nikki, Ashley and Bella. She hadn't responded.

"Your bitches don't play!" He laughs.

"Nope." She replies kissing him. She then asks "Can we turn The World OFF today and do something fun?" Overwhelmed by all of the exposure.

Kissing her back with a smile, he tells her "Absolutely." An excited Rook bounces around the kitchen asking what they're gonna do.

"Vegas?" Luna asks.

"I fucking love you." Colson chuckles into her hair, making her smile.

Rook and Slim's excitement solidify her idea.

"Let's figure out what we're doing so we can BE OUT!" Colson tells them.

"I'd be jealous too...." She thinks to herself honestly of the Bleta girl before kissing Colson.

--------------------------------------------------

To be continued.....

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bebalanced222 · 5 years

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The Michael Bowden Memorial Bike Ride to The Tip of Cape York

August 2019

My grandson Micky

Cape York News 14 – 20 August 2019:

FRIENDS and family of Michael Bowden rode to the tip of Cape York earlier this month to pay tribute to the young man.

The 20-year-old died last year after he was struck by a vehicle on Northern Avenue on the opening night of the Weipa Fishing Classic.

With the court case against the alleged driver looming, the memorial ride provided the family and friends of Mr Bowden with an avenue to remember the joy that he brought to their lives.

“It was nice to be able to remove ourselves from the world and take the time to come together, remember the positive stuff about Mick, and turn our focus on starting to rebuild our lives,” family member Denica Russ said.

Mr Bowden and his brothers Mark and Brad loved riding motorbikes together. When the trio weren’t working as fitter and turners, they would often be on their bikes seeking out an adventure.

The Bowdens had joined the local GROWL (Geriatric Riders of Weipa Locality) club and enjoyed the camaraderie.

Riding the Old Telegraph Track to the Tip of Cape York was always a trip that Mr Bowden wanted to do. Before his sudden death, he went on what would be his last motorbike ride with GROWL up to Nolan’s Brook, seven kilometres back from the Jardine River.

Mark Coleman, the president of GROWL, was a part of the group.

“Mick loved the rides, but he particularly loved the rides that he did with his brothers,” he said.

“It wasn’t just about the riding for Mick. He always heavily involved himself with the group when they reached their destinations.

“This is the aim of our group – it is the whole deal – and Mick got that. This is what impressed me the most about Mick.”

Mr Coleman first met the Bowden brothers when working together at Rio Tinto.

“The three boys were very close, good tradesmen, and good riders,” he said.

“Mick was the last to join GROWL out of the three and he never rode outside of his capabilities.”

Mr Coleman and Mr Bowden’s brother Mark formulated the idea to do the memorial ride. When Mark Bowden contacted the rest of his family about the possibility of a memorial ride, the planning was quick and easy.

“When Mick’s family became involved it was the greatest thing ever,” Mr Coleman said.

“Mick’s parents Scotty and Rach are great people and the way they have bought their kids up is a credit to them.

“The three boys are all level-headed mature fellas for their age. They all have great work ethic, are not idiots, and everything they do is good compared to other kids that I come across.

“Mick was always smiling; a happy-go-lucky kind of bloke who loved life and his family.

“They had a unique bond.”

Mr Coleman and Mark Bowden were originally planning to ride to the east coast for the memorial ride, but chose to go to the Tip.

“Mick had been up that way not long before he passed away. The Telegraph Track is a gnarly adventure ride and is the big four- wheel drive trip on the Cape that brings adventurers up from all over the country,” Mark said.

“It was cool to bring my family up and go to the places that Mick had recently been to.

“This is an adventure that most of my family would never have imagined doing.

“It was a shame that Mick couldn’t be there with us, but nice we could do it. It was bittersweet.”

A lot of Mr Bowden’s family are from Charters Towers and Townsville. His parents Scott and Rachael live in Ravenshoe.

Together, everyone formed a convoy and road tripped to Weipa for the start of the memorial ride.

There were 44 of Mr Bowden’s family and friends on the trip.

Mark and Denica said: “Our family had a ball – my cousin Josh had hardly ridden a bike before, so this was a huge trip for him.

“Mum and dad bought the meat from the Tablelands and the GROWL club organised the rest of the food.

“I felt sad that Mark Coleman’s bike blew up before the trip and that his vehicle which transported a lot of the things we needed broke down on the way home.

“Without GROWL, this experience to help us move forward wouldn’t have been possible and we owe them so much.”

Mr Bowden’s uncle Aaron Schleich described the Cape York memorial ride as “very therapeutic”. “Since Michael’s tragic passing the family have only been able to gather for what would have been Mick’s 21st birthday, which was a big family get-together,” he said. Mr Bowden’s older sister Emily explained how she could feel her brother during the ride.

This was highlighted when Mr Bowden’s immediate family gathered to capture a photo standing at the Tip.

As everyone in the background were taking the photos, a pod of dolphins swam past.

They all agreed it was a special moment that created a memory for everyone to focus on.

However, Ms Bowden, who is already looking into the future for next year’s planned ride said: “How is Mick going to get in the next family photo when there will be no dolphins around?”

Mr Bowden’s family are looking forward to coming together each year and continue the memorial ride in different locations on the Cape in his memory.

Courtesy Melissa Diffo, Cape York News 14 – 20 August 2019

Map of the area

Travelling from Northern New South Wales, Charters Towers, Townsville and the Atherton Tablelands to join the Weipa crew, 14 riders, 18 adults, 12 children and three dogs made the epic journey (approximately 900 kilometres) across the remote, dusty, corrugated tracks of Cape York Peninsula. 4WD’s were kitted out, bikes loaded onto trailers and utes, food and eskys were already loaded up with provisions by the time I flew into Weipa late Wednesday. Many of the family had already journeyed far over dusty roads to reach Weipa.

Day 1: Thursday 1st of August

Weipa to Canal Creek

We departed Weipa early picking up a coffee-to-go at the coffee van on the way out of town and drove with all the bikes loaded east through Batavia Downs Cattle Station, past the Moreton Telegraph Station on the Wenlock River, to our meet-up point at Bramwell Junction Roadhouse.

By mid morning the bikes were unloaded and the riders kitted up for the southern section of the legendary Old Telegraph Track. Mark Coleman from the Weipa GROWL Club gave the riders a pep talk about what to watch out for and how the group would look out for each other. And off they went, bikes in one direction and we in the support vehicles continued on the Peninsula Development Road to meet up for lunch at Fruit Bat Falls situated in the Jardine River National Park.

Mark Bowden @ Bramwell, last minute preparations

Aaron Schleich set to go!

Wanna-be Cody practising for next time!

Great-Nanny Naj with baby Evie

A pensive Brad Bowden

Denica Russ ready to go!

The two Marks. Mark Coleman is a veteran of these trips and his support was awesome!

Riders all kitted up for the first leg of the journey

The southern section of the Old Telegraph Track, which runs from Bramwell Junction to Bamaga Road, a distance of approximately 70Km, is an iconic drive that features eight challenging water crossings and some stunning tropical scenery as you head north towards the Tip of Australia.

Telegraph Line History

In the early 1880s the Queensland Government had JR Bradford, Inspector of Lines and Mail Route Services, survey a route along the Cape York Peninsula to Thursday Island for the construction of an electric telegraph line. Finally, after three gruelling months, the expedition reached Somerset: near the northern tip of the Cape.

Work on the Cape York Peninsula section began soon after and was completed in 1886, except for 90km between Moreton and Mein where telegrams were carried by horse and rider until the line was completed. The line consisted of galvanized cast iron ‘Oppenheimer’ poles manufactured in Germany and many are still standing today. Ceramic insulators are also sometimes found. After more than 100 years of service, the line was closed in 1987.

(Courtesy www.hemamaps.com)

The support vehicles were the first to arrive at Fruit Bat Falls picnic area and we enjoyed a picnic lunch and swimming in the crystal clear waters.

Evie greets Poppy at Fruit Bat Falls

Finally the riders arrived, and there already had been some injuries: Brad hit a small tree and went over the handlebars injuring his shoulder quite badly - no blood but internal damage - no more riding for him today, and Josh came off at one of the creek crossings injuring his foot and a finger - he kept his boot on and rode the rest of the way but he only found out a week later that both the finger and the foot were fractured.

Ouch!

The injured had some hydrotherapy at Fruit Bat Falls, and with belly’s full we all then headed down the four wheel drive track to nearby Canal Creek to camp the night. It was the best spot to camp being situated just outside the national park so we were able to have an open fire and the dogs could have a bit of a run around.

Micky’s dad Scott rode Micky’s bike - he made it unscathed!

Scott with his mum Sue and “the mother-in-law” by the edge of Canal Creek

Chillin out at the end of the day!

Ron and Sue taking a dip!

Uncle Glen, Uncle Aaron, Cousin Josh & Kim enjoying the cool water

Cody enjoying his camp bath!

William with Great Grandad!

Canal Creek camp - Mark Coleman on the BBQ - the Growl Club provided dinner for this first night.

Day 2: Friday 2nd of August

Canal Creek to Punsand Bay The day started with a camp breakfast courtesy of Growl, and bikers rode more of the Telegraph Track to our next meet-up spot at the Jardine River ferry crossing, while the cars drove via the bypass road. There were a few changes - Glen took over from Scott riding Micky’s bike, and Denika handed over her riding gear to Micky’s sister Emily who regarded herself as a novice rider. However with lot’s of family looking out for her she was keen to have a go.

Aaron is keen to get going!

Beau, Eli and Cody - “Let’s go!”

Denica all prepared for the next leg of the trip to Punsand Bay

Leonard and the other dogs are ready too!

Emily ready to ride!

Glen and Scott - bush mechanics!

Evie got lots of cuddles while mum and dad packed up the car ....

Before leaving the Jardine River National Park, we made a short stop at Twin Falls where Micky had spent the weekend before his tragic death. Twin Falls is a series of rock pools and cascades that is linked by tracks and boardwalks to nearby Eliot Falls.

Enjoying the crystal clear waters at Twin Falls

A pensive Grandad Ron remembering Mick

Tillie with Auntie Denica

Nana Emma Russ with Tillie

Micky’s mum Rachael enjoying a quiet moment before getting back on the road

Leaving the National Park was another matter! Lucky we spent some time at Twin Falls - the driver at the head of this line of cars had been waiting for 1.5 hours! It was reassuring to have these workmen on hand as we climbed out of this crossing!

Oh no! This is our only way out!

The little boys enjoyed watching the workmen at work!

There were more than a dozen cars waiting to cross this creek - some had been waiting over an hour!

The riders on the other hand went in the other direction down the Telegraph Track to tackle even more challenging creek crossings .....

Emily doing it like a pro!

Rob Moore following up behind

Glen walking Micky’s bike across this tricky crossing!

Crossing the Jardine

Once at the Jardine, anyone who was not registered or licensed had to load their bike up and travel in the cars to Punsand Bay camping ground. Tickets for a single vehicle return is $100, and if you are towing a caravan it is even more.

Buy your tickets here, but closed for lunch from 12 to 1.

Loaded ferry

A confident Rachael towing a trailer full of dirt bikes waiting to cross

Crossing the Jardine we enter the Northern Peninsula Area. The NPA Region is made up of five indigenous communities. There are three aboriginal communities: Injinoo, Umagico and new Mapoon, and two Saibai Islander communities: Seisia and Bamaga.

Saibai Islander people were forced to relocate in pursuit of fresh water and land, and they resettled at the site of the old Red Island Wharf in Seisia. The name Seisia is made up from the first letter of each of the brothers Sagaukauz, Elu, Ibuai, Sunai, Isua and Aken, the founding brothers of the community. Seisia wharf provides the region with shipping and ferry services, as well as being a popular local fishing spot, offering beautiful sunsets and views of small islands across the water. Of course many crocodiles, sharks and stingrays inhabit these waters.

We stopped for lunch at Sesia, topped up with fuel and ice before turning north at Bamaga for the final leg to Punsand Bay.

Lunch in the shade at Seisia

A hopeful Aaron fishing at Seisia - SeaSwift ferry tied up at the wharf

Cape York sign!

Hot showers and cold drinks! YES!!!

Emily relaxing after a satisfying day

The GROWL camp at the end of Day 2. Mark cooked up a huge pot of prawns which everyone loved. Thanks Mark and Eileen!

My camp site under the trees and view to the sea - one happy camper!

Hayley Bowden at Punsand Bay

Sunset at Punsand Bay

This is the life!

Aaron enjoying sundowners @ Punsand Bay

Eileen enjoying the afternoon ambiance

Day 3: Saturday 3rd of August

The Tip of Cape York, Somerset, and the 5 beach trail ride

Today is the culmination of our trip to The Tip with us all donning our Micky Memorial shirts and the boys taking Michael’s bike to the northern most point for a photo with us all.

The cairn of rocks in the middle distance is man-made by the hundreds of walkers who each add a rock to the pile as they go past.

Mark Bowden riding Micky’s bike to The Tip

It was low tide so we were able to walk along the beach some of the way

Micky’s immediate family

"As everyone in the background were taking the photos, a pod of dolphins swam past.” We decided this was Micky’s way of saying he was with us!

The Schleich crew!

All of us with Micky’s bike and helmet at the northernmost point of the Australian mainland.

Russ and Scott - Evie’s two “Poppies”!

Granny Naj with Emily, Mark and Brad

Riders once again lined up in a salute to Mick, before heading off for more adventures

We picnicked at historic Somerset beach on the eastern side of the Tip.

History of Somerset

John Jardine had migrated to New South Wales in 1840, and held a number of government appointments before being made Police Magistrate and Commissioner of Crown Lands at Somerset, at the tip of Cape York Peninsula, in 1864.

In 1865, 22-year-old Frank Jardine, his brother Alexander and eight others drove a mob of cattle overland from Rockhampton to Somerset, a remarkable feat which made them heroes in colonial Queensland.

They started with 42 horses and 250 head of cattle. The trip took 10 months during which time the party was constantly opposed by the area's inhabitants as they forced their way through scrub and swamps and crossed at least six large rivers, including the Jardine River which was subsequently named after him. They reached Somerset on 2 March 1865 with 12 horses and 50 cattle. Jardine's men survived, in poor health; they left a trail of dead Aborigines, dead horses and cattle and all their equipment.

For their pioneering exploratory efforts the Jardine brothers were made Fellows of the Royal Geographical Society and awarded the Society's Murchison Award in 1886.

Frank Jardine became in effect a law unto himself in northern most Queensland and is reputed to have been extremely cruel and barbaric.

The local Indigenous population was dispossessed and there was hostility between them and the Jardine family, both during Frank and Alick Jardine's expedition to Somerset, and during the years of the settlement. Jardine was also suspended for a time from his duties as Police Magistrate whilst being investigated in relation to using his position to obtain a pearl diving licence.

In 1873, Jardine married Sana Solia, the seventeen-year-old niece of the King of Samoa. They had two sons and two daughters, and the marriage endured until Jardine’s death from leprosy in 1919. Their graves can still be seen here at Somerset.

The pearl diving industry was important to the Queensland economy, and came to be dominated by Japanese divers after 1891. Kobori Itchimatsu came from the village of Nishi Mukai in Wakayama prefecture, an area that provided 80 per cent of the 7,000 Japanese who left their country to become pearl divers.

The earliest known burial was that of Cancan, a pearl diver, dating to 1890. Japanese pearl diver Kobori Itchimatsu was also buried there in 1909. Both graves are situated in the north area of the site.

Several Indigenous groups occupied this region prior to European contact. In an 1896 report to the Queensland Government, Archibald Meston estimated that in the 1870s the Indigenous population between Newcastle Bay and Cape York was around 3,000. At the time of writing his report, he believed that the population had fallen to around 300. This rapid decline was caused by a number of factors, including introduced disease, exclusions from traditional hunting grounds and frontier violence. Reverend Frederick Charles Jagg, a missionary at Somerset appointed by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, gave an indication of the relationship between European and Indigenous peoples when he reported in 1867 that "The aborigines have been described as the most degraded, treacherous and bloodthirsty beings in existence by the present Police Magistrate, and those whose only idea is to shoot them down whenever they were seen".

Somerset became redundant as a port once a safer shipping route to the Torres Strait was found and a settlement on Thursday Island was built from 1876. Frank Jardine continued to live at Somerset, maintaining the police residence until his death there in March 1919. During this time, Jardine continued to maintain a beef cattle herd; was engaged in the pearling industry; and created a coconut/copra plantation at Somerset.

Due to Somerset's isolated location the Jardine family provided assistance and hospitality to travellers and seafarers, for example, Jardine aided the survivors of the shipwreck of RMS Quetta in 1890.

Aaron conquering the five beach trail ride on the eastern side of the Cape overlooking Freshwater Bay.

Remote and tricky - one rider did not make it, his bike seizing up in the excessive sand hills.

While the big boys were exploring the dunes, the little ones had fun riding up and down this remote sandy shoreline.

Beau getting ready to ride

Helmet: check; Gloves: check ....

Go Beau!

Dinner Saturday night at Punsand Bay with us all wearing out Micky Memorial shirts. Tourists to the area were curious and a few came over for a chat. Day 4: Sunday 4th of August

Punsand Bay to Bramwell Station

We de-camped and got away reasonably early and met up with the riders on the southern side of the Jardine River Ferry, then we drove in convoy to Fruit Bat Falls for our final lunch together. The wind was blowing a gale so jumping in the water was not so inviting. Scott gave a wonderful speech thanking everyone for coming, and proposing that we do it again next year - at a different location though. Everyone thought it was a great idea.

The riders once again tackled the Old Telegraph track, this time including Emily who by now had become an experienced rider, and crazy Josh, who, despite his broken foot, chose to once again ride this treacherous stretch of road .... well, more a track than a road! Mind you he still did not know it was actually broken!

Next stop was the campground at Bramwell Station.

Setting up camp at Bramwell Station

Sunset on Bramwell Station

Normie Rowe and The Bagman were performing the night we were there. The restaurant was booked out but we were able to wander up and enjoy the concert. The young ones thought that Normie was a bit old hat, but Bagman brought the house down with his bush poetry. Tears of laughter!

Normie Rowe

Day 5: Monday 5th of August

Bramwell Station to Weipa

Rachael with the Bramwell Station restaurant and bar in the background

Photos from Bramwell Museum

Photos from Bramwell Museum - these huge termite mounds are a typical feature of the Cape York scrub

Photos from Bramwell Museum The Cuscus is a marsupial unique to Cape York.

Photos from Bramwell Museum - the largest cockatoo in the world! It is sacred to indigenous tribes.

And here we end this epic saga. Bramwell is just two hours drive from Weipa where the journey ended on Monday lunchtime, time for Emily to pack and board her flight to Brisbane. The Charters Towers mob and Ron and Sue continued driving south rather then returning to Weipa, while Scott & Rachael, Mark (headed for Cairns), Brad, Ash, her dad Russ and baby Evie (headed for Townsville) all departed early Wednesday. But not before Scott had sampled his favourite meal in Weipa - Sizzling Duck at the Thai restaurant on Tuesday night ..... one more time to all be together before heading our separate ways. No pics I am sorry! As Peter Cundel used to say: That’s your blooming lot!

Thanks everyone for making this trip so memorable!

Until next time .......

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729renegades · 5 years

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BEING HEALTHY ON THE INSIDE AND OUT – PART 1

Here at Renegades we are constantly trying to show more and more business owners that there is more to life than the daily grind of self-employment. We are working hard behind the scenes to develop a stepped process that will allow business owners, regardless of where they are on their journey a system that if followed will lead to success in their business and personal lives.

Over the next 2 months I want to share a section of that process and here’s the first part for you.

Health and Wellbeing and being healthy on the inside and the outside is a huge part of being able to meet the demands of entrepreneurship when its coupled with a family or private life.

It doesn’t matter how you look at this.

You can have the best business in the world, plenty of money in the bank but if you don’t have your health and you’re not happy then quite frankly it’s all wasted on you.

Your physical and mental health is priceless and a great friend of mine always quotes, “health is wealth”, and he’s spot on.

Likewise, your general state of wellness and happiness has a huge bearing on your quality of life. You can’t or shouldn’t spend the rest of your life doing a job or running a business that fills your wallet but empties your soul.

What does being healthy on the inside and the outside mean to me?

Feeling good

Feeling motivated

Clarity of thought

Happiness

A spring in the step

A smile on my face

Energetic

Readiness to face all challenges and seize any opportunities

How do I make sure I tick all of those boxes? Let me explain what works for me.

One of the secrets that I know has had great results with me regarding my health and wellbeing has been the instilling and following of good, positive routines which allows me to be healthy on the inside and out.

When my life is good, and I am at my best. I’m in a certain groove and following a good, positive routine.

When life is bad, when I feel overwhelmed or down, when I lack energy and clarity you can guarantee I’m not in that grove and something has slipped, or I’m in a bad daily routine.

Routines make things work and keep people alive!!

Do what works for you – There is no right or wrong

For those who don’t know, I spent nearly 8 years in the Armed Forces in the UK, and this is why the Armed Forces and the Royal Navy in my case run everything by routine. People laugh at me when I say my time in the Forces was like being in prison but without the loss of liberty. That’s because everything, even minutia is run by routine. Obviously, this is so that everyone knows, where everyone should be and what they should be doing and who they should be doing it with at every point during any given day. You know when to eat, when to exercise, when to work, when to play, you know everything, every day. Same as prison, when to sleep, when to wake, when to wash, when to eat, when to exercise, when to get yard time, when to go back in, when to return to your cell and so it goes on. It avoids chaos reigning.

One of my old Charge Chief’s on HMS Gloucester used to spout, “fit in body, fit in mind” all the time and he was renowned for his health and especially his fitness. He had run the Field Gun in the Royal Tournament the maximum allowed 3 times. This is an event where a team of men are responsible for getting a cannon, which weighs in excess of 1.2 tonnes, across a course by taking it apart and putting it back together at the other side of an imaginary ravine and firing it, before doing it all again in reverse to the finish line!

Trust me, it’s as crazy as it sounds.

He sometimes trained 3 times a day and was one of the fittest guys I have ever met.

He had lost the index finger of his left hand, it was an ugly, gnarly stump that was left and I asked him about it. When he was running the gun, he was a wheel man. This meant that he was responsible for taking the huge wheel on the cannon off, carrying it and then putting it back on when required through the race.

The wheel is held in place by a metal split pin which you pull out or shove in dependant on what you are trying to do.

On his first ever tournament, in front of the Queen they were mid run and he lost the pin, he dropped it in the sand that covers the floor. Without the pin, the wheel would fall off and his team would lose, and it would be on him.

So, he put his finger in the hole and kept going.

The gun and wheel took his finger clean off but that wasn’t the end of it.

He had to carry on to the finish line by taking his own finger in and out of that hole another twice before they crossed the line. That was the type of team player he was. I urge you to google “Royal Navy Field Gun Race” and check out one of the YouTube clips. When you see them flying across with those wheels, picture him carrying his finger as well!!

What his fitness brought him was a boundless energy and a clarity of thought and action that made him a joy to be around and a great leader to boot. In difficult times when sleep was deprived in certain dangerous circumstances, he was the one that would see us through with his energy and actions.

You have to be really conscious and intentional because in my experience, it’s much, much easier to fall into bad routines than it is to follow good ones.

It’s funny how the brain works that way.

I want to put a disclaimer in here before I go on. First, I am not advocating that you follow what I do, I am simply telling you what works for me. If it works for you too, that’s superb. If not, find something that works for you.

Take some time and think about what you were doing when you felt on top form.

When are you at your best?

When you’ve established those answers and you can recall being at the peak of your performance and copy that.

Second, I am no fitness guru either. I am 18 stones, horizontally challenged and under tall for my weight. I should be about 8 foot 6. Putting it in lay man terms, I am a fat bloke that likes to keep relatively active and fit.

I find nothing worse than people harping on about what you should and shouldn’t eat or drink. I was once in a community of entrepreneurs where the leader or self-appointed guru used to ridicule and belittle people for enjoying alcohol, eating meat, or having any sugar in their diet!! My thought was. . . get a life! I didn’t stay long in that group.

Eat what works for you and be happy with your choices. If you eat like a pig and are as fat as a pig be happy with your choices, accept the consequences, don’t moan because you are carrying a few pounds. Likewise, if you eat a diet of lettuce and dust, have the body/fat composition of a beanpole, be happy with your choices, don’t preach at others and complain that you can’t put on weight and muscle. Each to their own and celebrate we are all different.

You won’t get any diet or exercise advice from me, unless you ask for it.

Again, I will outline what works for me.

I am no dietician, I’m not an Olympic athlete or a Personal Trainer.

I love a glass of wine and a take away and occasionally I have athletes’ foot!!, I guess that makes me normal then.

Lastly, I was totally not a morning person and I will talk more on this later.

I was always missing the school bus; I was last up in the ten to eight club my Navy days and I was always last up in the house.

I changed my routine because I knew that it wasn’t serving me, and I wanted to make the change.

Now if you want to stay in bed until 10am and work until 3am every day, that’s cool by me. Likewise, if you are up at 4am and in bed by 9pm, good on you also. Be happy with your choices and to repeat – DO WHAT WORKS FOR YOU – THERE IS NO RIGHT OR WRONG.

One of the most sure-fire ways to not be healthy on the inside and the out is to start comparing yourself to others. You should compare yourself to who you were yesterday not to who someone else is today.

When I started looking at myself and making a conscious effort to be healthy on the inside and the outside, I quickly became more self-aware and was able to understand what worked for me.

One of the first things I stopped doing was watching, listening or reading the News. As a household we had breakfast news on from 6.30am, lunch was taken with the 1pm news and then evening meal was around the 6pm news swiftly followed by the 10pm news. Overload on negativity or what!!!

The amount of places I go and see that they have 24 hour news channels on in reception and all around the offices – that’s a big no no for me.

There is a reason why the last 1 minute of the news starts with, “and finally” and is a light hearted story otherwise we would all be leaving feeling pretty low about our lives and the world we live in.

I can promise you, if it’s important and it affects you, the news you need will find you quickly enough.

It’s toxic, do yourself a favour and don’t let it in!

It was then I realised that everything stems around exercise for me. It was that simple.

I noticed that if I did something like hitting the gym, walking, running, biking, swimming, then everything else aligned. I firstly felt better. I had more energy. I looked better, my complexion and skin were good, and I had a healthy glow about me. I was sharper in work and could sustain my concentration for longer periods. I ate better so that I watched what I ate and didn’t want to sabotage my efforts by eating crap. If I did go out for a meal or get a family take away, again I didn’t stress, I had earned it. Family life was better, I had more energy after work to devote to the family. I didn’t drink and because of that I slept better and deeper when I did get to my bed.

What was quickly apparent was the reverse of that when I had sustained periods of inactivity. When I don’t hit the gym, I feel lethargic, I struggle to get up in the morning. I think, who cares, let’s have a fry up or junk food because it’s the way I’m feeling – lazy. As soon as I’m home, I’m crashing on the sofa, watching sport or Netflix and getting stuck into a bottle of red wine and reach for the Diary Milk. That gives me heart burn and it means I don’t sleep well, and the cycle repeats itself. During these times my energy in work is poor, I am unable to concentrate for sustained periods and I generally feel crap. That horrible, “I can’t be bothered” attitude creeps into everything and everywhere. From work to home. Family life would suffer, I was impatient and short with the kids and would be sensitive and bicker with my wife. Does any of this resonate with you??

It’s funny though how sliding into the negative routine was so much easier and far more appealing than the positive routine!

Why is that?

Why are bad habits so easy to form and good one’s so hard?

Inevitably it’s because bad ones are simple and require very little thought or discipline and more than that most of the population are doing them on autopilot which makes it even harder to break years of conditioning and swimming against the tide of humanity.

When you look around you and analyse yourself, think of all your friends and family that follow a negative routine. Most follow it but have no idea or no thoughts of a different routine. There’s a total lack of self-awareness that it can change. Many of those around us are on auto pilot and live the negative routine I have just described.

My sister, Lisa, had issues with mental health and she will be the first to admit that she got into a cycle of negativity.

She spent her evenings watching things like the News and the UK Soaps like Eastenders and Coronation Street that are filled with negativity and depressing subjects. It fed a cycle of downward emotional energy that led to inactivity and poor diet which then surfaced in her mental health.

How did she break that cycle?

Firstly, through self-awareness and working out what wasn’t serving her.

She quickly realised that she had a great life and outside influences were forcing her to believe she had a bad one.

She quit the soaps and the news

She hit the gym

She took a personal trainer and as a worker in the NHS in the UK, she’s hardly on a king’s ransom as a salary!!

She decided to spend money on the right things and not the wrong things

Almost immediately she saw a difference.

Her mindset and mental health shifted.

She had more energy and her old smile came back.

Things that used to affect her or make her down could now be brushed off.

She was in control again.

Last year we ran the Cardiff Half Marathon together and she ran for the UK Charity MIND which is helping people with mental health issues and I was so proud to be there with her.

Next month I’ll continue with this article based on being healthy on the inside and out. I’ll tell you what works for me and about my routine. I’ll talk into some of the advice my father gave me and how I keep motivated with crazy challenges. I talk about that “To Do” list and how it isn’t helping you.

To be continued. . .

from Blog | 729renegades http://bit.ly/2WIP3sS

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lifeonashelf · 6 years

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CARS, THE

I don’t mean to be crass… (granted, I know an introductory repudiation like that will immediately lead you to assume that the ensuing statement is, indeed, going to be crass, and will probably cause you to brace yourself for a statement far more crass than the one I’m actually going to make—especially given this lengthy parenthetical, which is likely only serving to compound your trepidation about the prospective crassness of my forthcoming statement, because surely when you see such an interminable block of text following a declaration like “I don’t mean to be crass” you’re bound to suppose that the statement I’m cautioning must not only be crass, but so reprehensibly crass that it warrants a sprawling disclaimer before it can even be tendered—although your concerns will be mostly unfounded because the statement I’m eventually going to make, after I finish fucking with you via this gratuitous insert, isn’t really as crass as you’re undoubtedly expecting it to be; I didn’t write an additional 200-plus words after announcing “I don’t mean to be crass” because I have any earnest intention of being crass, I did it because: a) I’m an ass, and b) I’m misguided enough to suppose this might be amusing in some way, when in fact the negligible comedic value of this passage is roughly equivalent to the relative crassness of the statement that will follow it, as you’ll find out right now…)

Actually, at this point, it would probably be prudent for me to start my sentence over again so that it bears some resemblance to a coherent thought.

So, to reiterate, I don’t mean to be crass… (although, it now dawns on me that perhaps devoting this exorbitant amount of text to introducing my statement may actually enhance its crassness, since the statement in question is one that potentially could be considered marginally crass by certain audiences, and the flippant manner in which I’m addressing its potential crassness perhaps could be viewed as offensive by those audiences if they presume that my insouciant tangents here are demonstrative of an insensitivity to the possibility that some people might find the statement crass—which, consequently, might lead folks who wouldn’t customarily deem the statement in and of itself as crass to instead deem my exposition of the statement crass—and this means: a) I may be inadvertently rendering the statement crass when it was actually reasonably benign to begin with, and b) at this point, I’ve probably pissed off just about everyone reading this, and I haven’t even made the statement yet—although I suspect that most of the people I’ve displeased thus far are more upset that I’ve wasted several minutes of their time on these ridiculous asides than they are about either the potential crassness of the statement I have not yet made or my perceived arrogant indifference to the potential crassness of that statement).

Anyway, I don’t mean to be crass… but the first thing I think of when I listen to The Cars is Phoebe Cates’s breasts.

I’m not necessarily ashamed to admit this, though I am acutely aware that revealing this tinge of alpha-“BOOBIES!”-maleness in myself doesn’t bask me in the most flattering light. In my defense, I’m reasonably certain that most heterosexual males who have seen Fast Times At Ridgemont High have spent a lot more time thinking about Phoebe Cates’s breasts than I do (I don’t listen to The Cars very often). I am simultaneously aware that reducing a band’s entire existence to a singular film sequence in which a mere snippet of one of their songs appears is awfully reductive of their legacy, particularly when the band in question certainly merits a far more substantial appreciation. However, since I have been mercilessly honest throughout this exercise, I would be remiss in my methodology if I wasn’t forthcoming about my inescapable mental link between The Cars and the mammary magnificence of the lovely Phoebe Cates.

Rest assured, I have no desire to herein objectify Mrs. Cates-Kline (she married Kevin Kline in 1989, which rhymes). For the record, I would like to clarify that I find her far more appealing in Gremlins, a film in which she eschews demonstrating advanced oral sex techniques on carrots to instead deliver a super-gnarly monologue about discovering her father’s decomposing corpse in the family chimney after he breaks his neck while trying to impersonate Santa Claus. Based on the five or so additional movies of hers I’ve seen, I think she was a perfectly excellent actress and I’m duly curious why she opted not to sustain that burgeoning career. Sincerely, I have the utmost respect for Phoebe Cates-Kline, and if she’s reading this I hope that message will come through loud and clear. Still, as I sit here listening the The Cars’ self-titled debut, I can’t help but evoke her iconic pool-side disrobing in Fast Times; “Living in Stereo” is so firmly intertwined with that specific sequence in the pop-cultural consciousness that there’s simply no escaping the association—much like it’s impossible to listen to “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” without clips from The Breakfast Club running through your head, or to hear “Goodbye Horses” without recalling Ted Levine’s tucked-penis shimmy in Silence of the Lambs. And this interference is proving to be detrimental to my process, since I’d rather not make my ability to readily visualize Cates’s areolas every time I hear the opening riff of “Living in Stereo” the ultimate focus of this essay. I’m only mentioning this telekinetic linkage up front in the spirit of getting it out of the way so I can write something more thoughtful about The Cars—which I’m sure Phoebe Cates, Ric Ocasek, Kevin Kline, and the seven other people reading this would greatly prefer.

Actually, come to think of it, I suppose I could have skipped that entire introduction. I’m just now realizing I have a personal connection with The Cars which handily surpasses my limited fandom for an ‘80s teen comedy that I recently watched for the first time since I was an actual teenager and didn’t find all that extraordinary upon revisiting (the scene where “Living In Stereo” plays was still pretty amazing, though). My band Happyending used to cover a Cars number—“Just What I Needed”—so I’ve actually played that tune on my guitar more times than I’ve played it in my CD player; since this is a designation I can only apply to a small handful of songs, that correlation is surely more exclusive and well-suited for our purposes here. I’m fairly positive Phoebe Cates never attended any of our gigs, so her presence in this essay is arguably extraneous (also, it seems downright bizarre to me that I’ve referenced Gremlins, of all films, two entries in a row; I honestly have no fucking idea what’s going on with this piece right now). I probably should have just led with the Happyending thing and spared us all from the previous six paragraphs entirely, so do me a favor and don’t read any of the stuff you just read.

Anyway, welcome to this installment of Life on a Shelf. It’s about The Cars.

“Just What I Needed” was an incredibly fun song to jam. Since we didn’t have a keyboard player to tackle the melody, Happyending’s version emphasized the tune’s power-chord bedrock and our arrangement sprawled out in the middle before eventually culminating in a cacophonous blast-beat meltdown which bore no resemblance to anything in Ric Ocasek’s original composition—essentially, we sullied the track’s pure pop perfection to suit our own purposes. Nevertheless, our rendition rawked and we always got an enthusiastic response whenever we slotted it into our setlists, so we sullied it often and with gleeful abandon.

Ultimately, we could have probably tackled any cut off the band’s self-titled LP and made a decent go of it, simply because the source material is so dynamite. The Cars’ eponymous introduction is one of the most exceptional and self-assured debut albums in the rock canon, a cohesive and nearly flawless set of songs that establishes a fertile and wholly original musical language in less than forty minutes. I would place the circa-1978 Cars in that rarified class of bands who sounded like no one but themselves, and though they would promptly inspire countless lesser New Wave outfits, none of their imitators fully cracked Ric Ocasek’s code and very few managed to scrape together anything even remotely as hooky or indelible as the choicest morsels on The Cars.

Perhaps the most exceptional heritage of the band’s inaugural opus is that it still sounds futuristic three-and-a-half decades after it was released (“I’m In Touch With Your World”, in particular, is so spacey and bizarre that it seems totally plausible Ocasek recorded the track on another planet), no lean feat considering how manifestly dated the bulk of the synth-rock which arrived in its wake sounds today. “Just What I Needed” is arguably the album’s centerpiece—and it’s certainly catchy as a motherfucker—yet it isn’t even one of my personal top-three tracks on the disc (we ended up covering it mostly because I figured out the chords by accident). My favorite song remains “Moving in Stereo”, for reasons that have nothing to do with Phoebe Cates (okay, maybe a little) and everything to do with the indisputable fact that “Moving in Stereo” just plain fucking rules.

On a collection loaded with shindig-ready anthems—a motif announced by the disc’s opening statement, “Good Times Roll”—“Moving in Stereo” stands out like an alluring black-clad femme fatale brooding in the corner smoking clove cigarettes and quoting Nietzsche while she dispassionately surveys the revelers on the dance floor. If I was at a party and the host put on The Cars, I would immediately like this host at least 70% more than I did when I arrived—and if I spotted a girl across the room singing along with “Moving in Stereo” I would immediately march over there and propose to her on the spot (okay… I know this is a completely ridiculous notion; I don’t go to parties). “Moving” is the song on the album The Cars which sounds the least like the band The Cars, yet conversely demonstrates the breadth of their creativity, offering a grim counterpoint to bouncy numbers like “Don’t Cha Stop” and augmenting the somber undercurrent which runs through several cuts whose buoyant instrumental backdrops cunningly mask their lyrical proclamations that the good times don’t always roll.

Witness my second-favorite song on the disc, “You’re All I’ve Got Tonight”, in which Ric Ocasek bluntly tells his gal that she can “hurt,” “use,” “mock,” and “abuse” him, but “[he] don’t care” because he’d be far more distraught if she left him. All things considered, that’s a pretty fucked up scenario. Though probably not quite as fucked up as the one outlined in “My Best Friend’s Girl”—a chronicle of the bro-code’s most grievous violation: “my best friend’s girlfriend / she used to be mine.” “Bye Bye Love” (probably my third-favorite song, if you’re keeping score at home) sort of speaks for itself, and even the otherwise jaunty “Just What I Needed” takes a disquieting turn when Ocasek eventually confesses that “I needed someone to bleed.” And then the album’s moody closer “All Mixed Up” comes along to decisively end the party with the knife-in-the-guts couplet: “I wait for her forever / she never does arrive.”

Perhaps the only failing of The Cars is that it serves up such an impeccable distillation of everything I enjoy about the band it shares its title with that until I reached this point in our tome, it was the sole offering of theirs I felt compelled to own. Although, I finally opted to bolster my discography with 1979’s Candy-O and their 1984 set Heartbeat City a few days ago to foster a more comprehensive representation in these pages (though I willfully neglected Shake it Up because the title track kind of annoys me). The results of my supplementary reconnaissance are as follows:

Candy-O has plenty of inspired moments, but much of the material the band cooked up for their sequel audibly labors under the onus of the dreaded sophomore slump. A few of the tracks sound like throwaways from the first album, others come across as vague sketches of songs that weren’t quite ready to be recorded, and a couple are so blatantly derivative of the highpoints of The Cars that they become essentially pointless. Granted, opener “Let’s Go” is easily on par with the group’s best work, and the following number (“Since I Held You”) is cagily excellent as well. But the discerning listener can plainly hear The Cars running out of gas as the record motors on (trust me, I know how obvious and dad-jokey the employment of automobile puns is in this case… but I haven’t used a single one until now, so please park your criticisms). By the next track—“It’s All I Can Do”—the band is clearly spinning its wheels (shit, car pun; that one was an accident; shit, “accident” could be considered a car pun too) and that tire-d (okay, I did that one on purpose) cookie-cutter composition finds the band idling (yeah, that one was on purpose too), marking the first point in their catalog where The Cars stall (I should probably put the brakes on this lame device now, huh?).

Though the funky title track perks up the affair a bit and “Night Spots” is likewise wholly decent, the second half of Candy-O is bogged down by a succession of tepid retreads (I swear I didn’t mean to include another reference to tires there) and the album fails to really take off again (okay, that was a plane pun, which is just confusing). The disc’s nadir “Lust for Kicks” is banal enough to qualify as certifiably crappy, shackled as it is by a dopey melody that would sound more at home pealing from the loudspeaker of a trolling ice cream truck. Like most Part-Twos, the fundamental fault with Candy-O is that it’s simply nowhere near as strong as its predecessor (overall, it’s only slightly better than Gremlins 2: The New Batch), even if its sturdiest moments demonstrate that The Cars still had enough of a pulse to be interesting.

Speaking of pulses, I’m listening to Heartbeat City right now… and I’m regretting that pun already. I’m also regrettably ascertaining that the spark of timelessness which characterized the band’s early work faded rather quickly for them—despite being released only six years after their debut, City contains very few of the former’s charms and resonates as an album which could have ONLY been made in 1984. This is mostly due to the flaccid production of “Mutt” Lange, whose abiding steadfastness to characterless grandiloquence later transformed Def Leppard from marginally-ballsy hard rockers into scrubbed-shiny arena darlings whose songs all sounded like jingles for shampoo commercials. It’s perhaps fitting, then, that the a cappella refrain which introduces the opening track “Hello Again” evokes Joe Elliot more than it evokes Ric Ocasek—actually, several of the tunes on City could have easily appeared on Hysteria with minimal tweaking, which perhaps says volumes more about the uniform soullessness of Lange’s twiddling than it does about either The Cars or Def Leppard.

Though Heartbeat City spawned two of Ocasek’s biggest singles—“You Might Think” and “Drive”—it’s a fairly pedestrian offering on the whole, and a far cry from the not-then distant age when The Cars managed to build full suites of great cuts around their radio anthems. “Magic” resonates like it was specifically written to accompany the pivotal montage scene in a direct-to-VHS Jon Cryer romantic comedy, “I Refuse” is so anodyne that it could have been a Kajagoogoo b-side, and even the solid mega-hit “You Might Think” is essentially a reductive re-write of “Just What I Needed”. “Stranger Eyes” boasts some of the dark promise of “Living in Stereo” and makes good use of its sturdy Tom Petty-esque guitar lick, but the track’s momentum is woefully hamstrung by Lange’s saccharine sheen, which neuters David Robinson’s propulsive stick-work to such a degree that the drum tracks sound like the percussion presets on a $7.99 Radio Shack keyboard. “Drive” is assuredly the best tune in the bunch, yet even that apex ends up being more perplexing than effective since the lone resemblance it bears to the band’s other work is that it appears on a record by the band The Cars.

Sadly, while my ardor for the group’s first LP remains stalwart, my investigation of their subsequent offerings is only serving to reveal that I don’t love The Cars nearly as much as I love The Cars. I might have been better off sticking with that solitary disc in my library (though you would have missed out on all those genius vehicular bon mots I threw at you a few paragraphs back)—as things stand, it’s highly unlikely I’ll be cueing up Candy-O or Heartbeat City in its place next time I’m in the mood to immerse myself in Ric Ocasek’s stellar song-craft or envision the nipples of retired ‘80s actresses.

We won’t get a Hollywood Ending to this piece, I’m afraid. As we roll the credits here, our protagonist (or maybe I’m the antagonist of this opus—I’m never quite sure) still hasn’t met his Nietzsche-citing clove smoker, and now he’s dispirited to discover that he doesn’t adore the band he’s writing about as completely as he thought he did.

Plus, Kevin Kline probably wants to punch me in the face now. Just what I needed.

I know what you’re thinking… A song-title gag is about the laziest way I could wrap this thing up, even more unimaginative than settling for another witless car pun, right?

Whatever. Boobies.

August 1, 2015

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lovestructionworld · 6 years

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“Power Trip” LFM #35 December 14, 2017

As a preface to the forthcoming message, I want to share a testimony to the love and power of the Holy Spirit. Sometime in 2016 I met a determined salesman at Best Buy in Cool Springs while my oldest son Reid and I were shopping for a sound bar. During the first thirty minutes of sound bar discussion, I had been asking the Holy Spirit for the "in" with my salesman to discuss his soul condition and relationship with Jesus Christ. I don't pursue everyone. I only do it as the Lord leads. And then I saw the opening (it was just a knowing of "now") and asked him if he believed in Jesus Christ as the Son of God? His thoughtful and immediate first response was, "I'm an atheist". And quite frankly I can't even remember all the fine details to the conversation. But at the end, I asked if I could pray for him right there in the store. And I could tell the Holy Spirit had moved him while I was praying. But he rejected the first call to Jesus. We then agreed to meeting for breakfast. This man needed to see the non=religious love of Christ. Over the next year, one breakfast turned into between 5 to 10 breakfasts (I can remember the total). There were several more calls to Jesus, which he kindly rejected, but he had moved to "conviction/considering Jesus". I found out that the young man was the son of Seminary Founder in Australia who was also a Pastor. He was also a grandson of a Pastor and he was a nephew of a Pastor. Those breakfasts turned into, honestly, a fairly lame deliverance meeting that I shut down because of his bitter and unfounded anger toward his parents. The demons had twisted him into believing his parents were responsible for his rebellion. The Holy Spirit unraveled that lie. But he still really didn't want to forgive them. But what I did find out from the move of the Spirit in this deliverance meeting was his bitter anger and rebellion had been the open door to the attack of the demon named atheist. One perfectly timed very strong personal difficulty, upon another very strong personal difficulty began to break him of his stubborn anger to the point he gave his life to Jesus literally on his knees with his elbows on the back bumper of my Toyota truck in the Cool Springs Cracker Barrel parking lot. He was so desperate cars were driving by us both with him on his knees and he could have cared less. Tears were flowing from his eyes. He immediately began setting things right with his parents and wife. Life started coming back together in a powerful way. And this last July this man and his wife made a public confession of Christ and I baptized them both in water at Belmont Church. Today, his once broken and teetering on divorce marriage with two children attached is thriving and his wife is pregnant with their third child. And he knows he has heard from the Lord that he is supposed to follow in his father's footsteps as Preacher, Teacher and Pastor. After his baptism, I heard the Lord say to me "Pass him off to your new Pastor". My Pastor is discipling and counseling him for his coming journey.

I didn't do this. I just had love in my heart and obeyed what I heard the Holy Spirit said do. Praise to the living God!!! The impact on this country and our world is tremendous with any soul newly coming to Christ. But what blood might be on our hands if we don't share the Gospel of Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

"If I say to the wicked person, 'You will surely die,' but you do not warn him--you don't speak out to warn about his wicked way in order to save his life--that person will die for his iniquity. Yet I will hold you personally responsible for his blood." Ezekiel 3:18

“Power Trip”

I would rather retake the country for Christ with Christ's love and power, than through the Fox channel, gunning up and Civil War.

If you are a Christian, you have to be aware that those who are unbelievers view you as a fool, simple-minded and irrational. So from the outset of someone finding out you are a Christian, you'll be somewhat repulsive to them. How do we reach those people who have so much disdain for everything "Christ".

I'm not against the next self-help, Christian Republican, Twitter celebrity with a new book and TV show that unbelievers won't watch and might even gag to as they fast flip through big hair, 700 club type channels on the Comcast box. Yeah, that sentence was too long. It's true though! But I'm inclined to think we have to get outside our personal issue spaces and conference mentality through the power of the Holy Spirit. We have to begin implementing what we learn in those conferences by soul winning. To do this we need the power of the Holy Spirit.

Think about the ways in which God dealt with those in the Old Testament who, in whatever shape or form, didn't believe in or avoided Him. He always used "power". Power equals "proof".

Moses staff, Angelic visitation, Prophetic insight and foreknowledge all made the rebellious kings and the common man aware that there is a real God. I'm thinking of rebellious King Nebuchadnezzar, Joseph's and Moses' Pharaohs and Elijah's false prophets and Ahab. Give pause to the incredible spectacle within scripture of God's power in those stories we all know.

In the New Testament, It seems that Jesus was more targeted toward the common man and even teaching the common man how to do what he did, which was to take spiritual ground for His Father. Jesus himself said, "unless you see signs and wonders, you will not believe". So what did He do? He performed with power, signs and wonders. Would it be any different today?

And Jesus didn't point to himself at the ascension. He pointed to the Holy Spirit so that we could do what he did. And I ask you, why would God operate with power through his prophets in the Age of His Temple presence and then with power through His disciples during the Savior presence of Christ and then somehow not want us to operate with His power now that the Holy Spirit is """"""literally"""""" inside of us. Makes zero sense! .

This probably seems simplistic. But the demonstrated power of God reeks havoc on the strongholds of unbelief and rebellion and is why Paul said, "I would rather you prophesy". Even the gifts of the Holy Spirit...the Word of Wisdom, the Word of Knowledge, Faith, Gifts of Healing, Working of Miracles, Prophecy, Discerning of Spirits, Different kinds of Tongues, Interpretation of Tongues (there are others), are here with us to bless and grow the body of Christ into an ever larger force going into all the nations. Yet many Christians have been trained that the power went out and down with the last Apostle who saw Christ. And today the bride of Christ more than lags in its growth across the country because of rebellion and false teaching toward the Power of the Holy Spirit. How many souls off the street and from the marketplace have been saved within your church this year in 2017? Many will have to answer honestly..."zero".

Wake up. I say this kindly and humbly. You Christian secessionists, that don't believe in Divine power for today, should stop blaspheming the Holy Spirit. You are in the USA minority and it isn't because of immigration. I curse anything that Jesus cursed and He cursed the fruitless tree and fruitless religion. I read where the Southern Baptists are losing people in droves. I've heard of zero revival in Nashville. There was a little outbreak of revival in Hendersonville, Tennessee twenty years ago. But nothing since. I could be wrong.

Christians cut off their noses to spite their face by devaluing the very weapons of the invisible spiritual war the Holy Spirit has made available to us..."they have Divine power to demolish strongholds"!!!

We all have gifts from God when we become believers. I became a believer as an 18 year old Senior in High School. Over the early years, I would call out things that would happen soon afterward. It would seem "coincidental" to me. Like me telling my x-girlfriend who was weeping over us breaking up that she would meet her future husband within a month to comfort her. She met her future husband two weeks later and they have been married for thirty years. This type of thing would happen to me pretty regularly, but I always chalked it up to a coincidence because of my mentors and minister's teachings. Later on after my Baptism of Spirit, I had a gift of faith to believe for the truth of God's power regarding prophesy. And I simply knew I had a prophetic gift.

Here is another example. I believe I've spoken this in a past LFM. Jesus loves unbelievers, which means I love unbelievers. Once I was at a New Orleans casino with business associates. Voodoo central!...Bourbon Street a few blocks away. Never had been to a casino and to make a long story short, I gave a Word to a mafia sounding man who had lost $20,000+ at a craps table and had been with two prostitutes in the last 3 days. He wanted to teach me how to play craps because he wanted "what I had". At the table he said, "I'm a bad person" and "Youse different". Seriously. Cracks me up! Through my sweat, The Word was that he was going to begin winning at the craps table. He had lost for 2 straight days. He immediately began winning over and over without a loss and the Word cut down the bob-wire to his strongholds of greed, sexual perversion and anger. He gave his life to Jesus in the casino bar. If I had carried a Bible into the casino and thumped him with it, he may have shot me. Ha! Who knows. But the Holy Spirit's power was released by Him. There is so much more to that story. But it really happened. It shocked my lukewarm Christian and Catholic business associates. They saw me bringing this man into the Kingdom of Heaven in this seedy bar.

Do you get how much love Jesus has for gnarly sinners like this Mafia guy. There are so many more true and "praise God He's powerful" stories I could tell you. And I have always said that I have many other Normal Christian friends who have these same kinds of stories. I just want you to read testimony. No bragging intended. But just like Jesus would perform a miracle right in front of the religiously minded, yet they still would't believe, many won't believe the story about which I just testified.

Muslims need to see the power of Jesus and they are, believe me. You may have heard the testimonies coming out the Middle East of many now having night dreams and day visions of this "man in a white robe" speaking to them like he did to Saul of Tarsus on the Damascus Road.

Convicts need to see His power. Greedy CEOs need to see the Power of God. The Jews need to see God's power. Unbelieving Gangsters, Accountants and Scientists need to see something called out in there life that only Jesus on His throne could know. The common man and woman need to see their children healed and their strongholds dealt with by God's power. The power is the proof of God's existence and drives them to love Jesus Christ. Oh my God. This makes me so happy!!!!!!!

Many say "the Word of God is the power". Yeah and in the Word of God he says "I would rather you prophesy". Let's go ahead and dumb down "prophesy" with "that means just quote scripture to them". These testimonies and the 10,000 power moves across the earth today by power gifted Christians cannot be denied! Do you really want to be in the camp of "having a form of Godliness, but denying the power thereof".

Maybe I'm only speaking to a few people reading this. But I pray the Holy Spirit's power move on you now for your healing and Baptism of Spirit, if this is you. Once you make a move toward the Holy Spirit like what I'm talkin' bout, you'll be on His power trip of a lifetime. Remember there are souls out there that are desperate for you to get what I'm speaking right now. See to it that the blood of Jesus flows over them as opposed to their blood being on your hands.

As always, much love intended.

Brian

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hooptrition · 7 years

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The Auckland Experience

“I realize that it’s been said many times and in many ways but it’s rare to have such a group of old buggers that connect the way we do after all these years whether we see each other weekly on the court or occasionally to live like a GOB.” - Anonymous

It’s said that Australians generally treat New Zealand like the undiscovered gem in their own back yard.

Thus it was somewhat unsurprising that eight years after the Grumpy Old Bears world odyssey began, the crew assembled in Auckland harbor (yes literally on the water) to defend the World title so expertly captured four years earlier in Torino.

The familiar faces were mostly all on deck for the operation; The Owner, Ballarat Pau, Coach K, The Doctor, T Bone, The Californian Wine Mogul, Big Wave Don, The Sri Lankan Assassin and your correspondent. Added to that mix was Disco Steve, a GOB debutante plucked from the draft for his unique blend of silky skills on and off the floor.

Opening night featured a trip to the Botswana Butcher to sample some of the protein offerings that the Kiwis have become so famous for and it wasn’t long before the hormone overload from the exquisite beef and lamb was working its magic.

Despite being on tour as an age discrimination case waiting to happen and having guest appearances lined up for an anti-GOB Auckland outfit, the Assassin was off and running after a chance meeting at a traffic intersection en route back from our opening visit to Auckland Jurassic.

Details of what happened over the next few hours at the very reputable Donny Doolan’s establishment are sketchy at best, with only cub reporter Bone in attendance.

Trying to piece together incoherent statements such as: “he was dancing and gyrating in a way I’d never seen before” and “I was seriously concerned for him” is probably futile and suffice to say that Sri Lanka’s answer to Vincent Vega had thrown the gauntlet down for the trip.

The games were quickly upon us and the first pool encounter was a comfortable-enough win over the Australian Hyenas 53-26. Disco fitted in seamlessly to the minimally structured schemes, a wayward hook from Bone brought back memories of the massage oil incident and the Wine Mogul rolled back the clock for his patented ‘stop on a dime’ pull up.

Astonishingly, the organisers had made a commitment to capture every game on video for posterity and soon the highlights were readily available as a tool for remembering and forgetting.

The creative genius behind the owner had, in her always-appropriate way, hit just the right notes with the accommodation.

The Old Testament Bears had the distinction of being housed dockside in Auckland harbor on the superbly appointed vessel the Templar, whilst the newer converts took their rest in nearby dry land luxury.

The event itself was housed in and around the harbor just a short stroll from both places.

Highlights included Fireworks smokehouse brisket burgers, where Pau recycled his request for Dickins cider to more than one unsuspecting teammate; the grey goose incident on the top deck that cascaded into a chance meeting with some Canadian footballers and Tasmanian netballers in Donny Doolan’s and left Big Wave in a parlous state the next morning; Jemma and Dave’s constant attention and beverage provision and a wondrous day trip to nearby Waiheke Island and Cable Bay Vineyards restaurant.

The dialogue was as always, the seasoning for the tour and astute observations, long forgotten anecdotes and more recent war stories tied the days together.

In truth, some of the best stuff just melted into the group dynamic, never to be seen again but some fragments are still front and centre:

"The bigger the boat the more they pass to you" Coach K at the infamous top deck dinner.

The very jarring observation of one of our fist visitors to the boat: "He’s handsome and has no depth…did I say that out loud?"

The widespread adoption of George Constanza’s motto: "It's not a lie if you believe it"

Game two came and went with T-Bone ticking New Zealand off the hook list in a 71-43 win over Hungarian Dream catchers.

The Prawn juice aperitif samples our opponents provided are undoubtedly adorning home bars across the globe in preparation for the type of catastrophic world happening that would warrant its consumption.

Dinner at ‘Soul’ that night was another fantastic affair and flowed into a few customary refreshments, again just a stone’s throw from the Templar.

Somewhere in the midst of this period Coach K got to detailing his missing tooth story and the differing approaches when in conversation with fellow GOBs and other competitors, a role reversal in traditional men’s entertainment clubs was theorized and “Juri Duty” was officially welcomed into the language.

Around this time Coach K headed back across the ditch for the Shire’s Coachella equivalent, the panorama of female teams from across the globe continued to float by and the rookie made a mockery of the notion that he was in any way lacking experience.

The days had a wonderful rhythm…from sundrenched breakfast deck, to makeshift office, to NBA playoffs in the main lounge and then hoops and GOB recovery regimes.

Old foes the Megabucks were next on the slate.

The 65-41 win was relatively unspectacular save for Coach K seeing his average drop to 9 despite being 2000 miles away. Bone took the 100% award with a rolling hook on transition, Disco found some of his dance-floor mojo on the pine, the Doctor unceremoniously hacked Murray with his throat and/or teeth in a manoeuvre that was quickly coined the gooseneck foul and Pau did what Pau does in his role as the team’s “Big Fundamental”.

Our young female referee was reduced to supportive astonishment at some of the guesses from her theoretically more senior partner but we soon adjourned to a dinner of chicken ribs and refreshments.

The next game was an early morning affair against Brasil that inevitably got rather messy. Big Wave’s rebounding festival and an ultimately flawed flirtation with flawless shooting from Bone were the main takeaways from a 50-30 win. A donut watch was however enacted for the Wine Mogul until deep inside the last two minutes whilst, almost unnoticed, the owner continued to metronome it in from midrange.

The aforementioned Cable Bay jaunt that day was perhaps most easily summed up by something Disco was overheard telling a friend back home at the winery restaurant: "I'm going to send you some photos and you won't believe how I'm rollin’."

Philosophical questions inevitably find their way into the week and after reminding the team of the latest research updates on his prostate awareness theory, the Doctor then regaled us with tales of long forgotten Estonian school days. In a sense it’s no surprise that a priest would struggle to answer the young Doctor’s "How many millimetres between heaven and hell?" query. The fact that the priest ultimately replied that people who ask questions like that go to hell speaks for itself.

Back at the smoke house the next day, the owner dropped one of the standalone gems he’s become famous for: "There is no such thing as a good turnover."

On Thursday the running hook reappeared in a 62-43 win over local team Basketball Times. Their chatty point guard was a nuisance in every sense but Big Wave was unguardable early on and the result was never in doubt. The Doctor missed his patented crayfish claw shot but made a thunderous baseline drive and finish in traffic that shocked pretty much the whole gym and the Bears were now 5-0 with co-coaches K and The Assassin managing minutes for Kazan.

Kazan is a city in southwest Russia, on the banks of the Volga and Kazanka rivers. The capital of the Republic of Tatarstan, a semi-autonomous region, it's known for the centuries-old Kazan Kremlin, a fortified citadel containing museums and sacred artifacts…and a gnarly old hoops culture.

The final against their familiar front line of very hefty moving screen setters and impossibly craft silver fox guards was a beauty.

History will record that the Russians eventually got the money 60-54 in overtime but it was a knock ‘em down slugfest to the very end. Threes that might have sealed it, rimmed in and out as tantalizingly as a foiled 3 am casino rendezvous but Big Wave’s foul out was the final nail.

Your correspondent took one in the ribs for the team in a vain attempt to either secure a loose ball or take out their astonishing scorer (Number 10) and only finished up searching for pain relief answers deep inside the doctor’s makeshift pharmacy bag.

It was fitting that one of Russians told T Bone they were coming to the Gold Coast even though he couldn't speak a lick of English. Maybe he meant coasting to gold???

Big Wave fittingly carried the flag for the weary GOBs on the last night at Jurassic for the real closing ceremony.

On Sunday morning it was time to go when the Wine Mogul decided not to have eggs, the Doctor informed us he was going on the wagon and no NBA finals games were scheduled.

The Wine Mogul got two pills from T Bone (now working on a pharmaceutical startup in opposition to the doctor) and prepared to position himself near the boarding gate to avoid a repeat of the “Sydney Incident”.

The dispersal was underway.

Rumblings for Alassio are strong as this piece goes to print and there’s possibly no stronger recommendation for that trip than Bone’s summation of a post Auckland GOB lunch in Sydney recently:

“Awesome. Ended up late with Disco and a bunch of guys I didn’t know drinking free cocktails in a bar I can’t remember going to. Just your typical GOB’s outing.”

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