Fog and 48 May

Fog. The cool thing about living in Hamilton is the sense of mystery that winter brings. Your never quite sure on the birth of each day whether it will be overcast, crappy, or shine like a summers day. ORRRRR…….. stay foggy past smoko, through lunch and your not quite sure where your kid is, or the school gate is, at 3.0clock. You’re never quite sure what’s beyond the veil. Fog is cool. More metro than a flat white

Aucklanders sadly, never awake to a sense of mystery. Pretty much they know what kind of day it is when they pull back the curtains of their 18 sq mtre apartments. Dull , dull , dull. They never get to use those yellow fog lights on their silver jeep cherokee’s. they do not know that extra dimension to their lives where they hang washing in a white mist, on the knife edge of futility never knowing if the sun will come out to play.

They also do not experience the heightened tension and strange enticement of driving with a sense of potential apocalypse… unlike us Hamiltonians who drive cars knowing their may well be a stationary cow smack right in the middle of the road 20 feet in front of the bonnet even with headlights blazing. An aucklander never senses that they may hit a cow on a fog covered harbour bridge and they are obviously lesser people for it. If Justin marshall was an aucklander he would, and fair enough too, complain bitterly about this. An aucklander awakes and what they see is what they get. Lame.

Hamilton, fog should be celebrated. Each year we miss huge tourism dollars by not enticing local and overseas visitors to experience the benefits of fog. Our city could have a new slogan: Hamilton – where fog is your friend – exclamation mark Or Hamilton – seein’ aint everything exclamation mark Or Hamilton – no smog – just fog exclamation mark Or Hamilton - is it? Are you sure? Exclamation mark And my personal fav Hamilton – don’t mist it exclamation mark

It’s a growth market and we’d get more bang for our tourism buck, I mean look how well rotorua has done with a couple of mud pools. Honestly.. if they can swing it with dirty old boiling mud, then surely we should be able to pull of the marketing coup with good clean fog and realize its market potential. We too could see bus loads of Asians walking around at 7 in the morning, cameras clicking, all scarfed up, smiling and doing that peace sign with two fingers. We could sell light sabers which beep ‘may the fog be with you’ Moteliers in ulster st.. don’t shut up shop yet – the gold rush is coming..

..and as new Zealanders lets start living our climate under the treaty of waitangi. Lets start claiming fog as the very blanket of love formed between papatuanuku and rangi the sky father. Fog. As white and pure as the feathers of te whiti’s people, lets imbue the spirit of fog as a shroud of peace that ever since the pay out to tainui we should play in together, biculturally, maori and pakeha, hand in hand.

Lets also become more existential with fog. Lets weave it into our lives, our very kaupapa, as Hamiltonians. Ohh ah..does it say declined’, must be the fog .

Kids wake up its foggy outside, lets play hide and seek.

And if you are a musicians, like 48 may, you could record a song like this…

(play 48may song)

Sell it to coca cola, rule the airwaves, and when you hear a song like this from American band ‘bowling for soup’ with their song ‘punk rock 101’ released in 2003. listen close people

(play punk rock 101 uncannily like 48 May)

And when 48 may is asked…why one of these things is very much like the other…..

They could say….no comment or Its quite coincidental isn’t it, or i'm a little foggy about that.

You’ve been listening to 48 may, 48 bowling for soup may, and honest dave's morning rant on the generator…

Capill / Benson Pope

morning all. You can hear an MP3 of this rant later in the afternoon on The Generator.

Listeners

Back in the day christians were entertainment in the colosseum of this world, not just the local district courts. Christians were decimated by gladiators and lions and those guys in asterix comics.

Well, i'm not sure if we could rustle up any gladiators or pulp fiction esque gimps, but MR christian heritage party, the right reverend graham capill could feasibly face the lions people. The cops could spend some well deserved taxation dosh that even michael cullen, im sure, would spare with a smile to courier the reverend graham capill up to um meet and greet the lions. Soon as that english pack gets off the plane on auckland's tarmac and the powhiri is powhiri’d, a quote/unquote reception could be held. And im sure a hearty romanesque mauling by the British lions would befit the monstrosity of such a malpractice of humanity. Capill was indeed capable.

The revered Lions front row is heavy, white and pale and from the white cliffs of dover they’ll like mashing and frying things And mashing things. Here’s hoping that Christchurch police can swing it and the ref will turn a blind eye to the sharp sprigs. A gladitorial session with Capill might be the very first time that the lions get to see a battered fish in New Zealand.

No one likes a Mo lester. No one thinks pedophilia is a nice p word. And no one thinks an 8 year old in pajamas deserves to be hideously abused . But what smells acrid to the senses, like burning plastic, is that capill rode a very high horse. A very high horse mounted by the
voice of morality for all of aotearoa. A white shirt and tie campaigner. Publicly, he was god’s mouth piece – his very saliva sanctified. A camp-aigner though not for the camp, gays were certainly not to be tolerated or at least not tolerated to right of possessions. He was vitriolic about phallic maori carvings in Tokoroa and thought of course that marilyn maanson was an arch henchman. All the while privately mo lestering. In fact it appears the capill high horse of a very great height was merely an ass…… sadly waiting for this moment when it would be duly kicked .

Graham Capill versus the Lions. Tickets on sale now.

The whole saga is a sober, cautionary tale of the dangers of self righteous pride, of talking it up without talking it down, of expecting the world of people without thinking what on earth, of failing to mix up compassion, humility and frailty with the hopes of high ideals The saga illuminates the danger of shouting from the roof top too near the gutter.

Graham Capill I have no doubt, like the blues brothers, thought he was on a mission from god, no matter that the blues brothers had a better tailor. I also have no doubt that God is embarrassed more by Capill’s actions than the entire publishing career of Sir Cliff and the back catalogue of rock group Creed put together. Though God’s mercy is greater still.

Reverend capill and other christian virtue virtueoso’s such as bishop brian and the like would do well with a round of the david benson pope avante garde course in media liaison and communication. A fresh tennis ball in the mouth with your hands taped to the desk will work wonders when you want to point the proverbial finger and wag the touting tongue. His school pupils at least swear by it

The difference between the 2 celebs this week is that benson pope never claimed to be the pope – while Capill did, breathing infallibility like a dragon.

Word. Good luck with your garage saleing tomorrow!

You’ve been listening to honest dave's morning rant on the generator.

Mother's Day and Foot & Mouth

hey people - you can hear a rant every friday morning, 89 fm in h-town, or on MP3 at the generator... cheers

Listeners – we all have one. They may have gone awol but if your breathing.. even you out there breathing out of a plastic bag underclaudelands bridge this morning, you have one. we are all brothers and sisters of another mother. We all have enjoyed the slippery cervix ride of birth. All have known the embrace of the ample motherly bosom.

ON mothers day as for me and my conscience, I got up early and made the mrs a serious round of pancakes. Im no chef, I just tried to get the flash in the pan and cooking with a moderate temperature. I tried real hard. A bit of gour - MET on the side with some melted camemBERT. I cut a fejoia not in half like, but sliced in the vertical… vertical fejoias… asethic yet seasonal.. Fried some ripe bananas. As the late Robert palmer knows – some like it hot. Tossed in a few grapes. Red AND green. Covered all bases. Pulled out all the pips. Dripped yoghurt on the side. Squares of orange. Grated chocolate. Finally dropped a guzzle of whiskey maple syrup like fat freddy and rolled 2 perfectly semi fluffy pancakes, with a smidgin of icing sugar… circularly symetrical 280 diameter by maybe 3ml for all you tradesmen out there ….. Damn fine pancakes. Better than a

new 4 wheel drive in pauinui.

So anyway, ... the experience left me hollow. I blame michael hill. If it wasn’t for michael hill and his insipid henchmen of television advertisers these adds that construct women as mere flakey superficial consumers of anything glitzy and gorgeous and that comes with a ring tone of a cash register. For every thing else. Visa. Women it seems tend to submit to michaels braclets and charms easily.

Now I don’t mind making pancakes or babies, within the confines of a committed relationship.. for sure. I just don’t like the feeling of being molested by the media to conform to an image where by males on any given mothers Sunday are EXPECTED to come up with the goods or be removed from the whanau christmas party, or risk the inheritance bach at whanga in respect to your own mother. Or, If no presents gift wrapped are presented as per michael hills instructions on this day in regards to the mrs, complete with pancakes in bed all sexual favours for a month are decreed null and void. When U2 sang Sunday bloody Sunday it wasn’t political. It was just another song about mothers day.

The point is all women take Bob Marley and put there twisted spin on it. Get up, stand up and do the lawns. Which is the core point of my rant – you all know that system chicks have now where everything has points - toast is 1 point and toast with butter is 2 points and toast with chocolate icecream is 6 points etc .. Well in a womans world all things come with points. Its just Like fly buys/

Let me break it down..

There is a house. - There is the outside of a house. There is the inside of a house. The man beast rules the outside. The woman wolf rules the inside. Woman wolf wants man to work inside as well as outside. Man beast wants to work outside primarily and preferably. Woman wolf always counts the points

The rules are thus. Any man beast work involving sweat out side has no points. Lawns - no points. Landscaping – no points, jackhammering no points, etc Though the one exception for woman wolf is that man beast hanging washing with pink pegs earns 5 points.

And this is the rub - Where the vacuum cleaner meets the carpet if you like - the fact is that every single chore inside the house is of merit and carries points . A woman vacuuming house is 20 points, her cleaning the oven 25 points, her cleaning a toilet 30 points but a bloke building a shed or changing the oil – 0 points. James brown was wrong about the state of the world my friends.

I guess I would like Mothers day to be more of a win win situation where the woman wolf mother gets credit and credit cards and pancakes and vertical fejoias yet at the same time the man beasts hunter gatherer gains credit doing his thing outside in the ¼ acre without being bent over by the woman wolf to pack the dishwasher.

As for the 'why the heke …is it a hoaxi… that’s vexing the nation . its simple… the cops fail to realise that Monday’s scare followed mothers day.

On Sunday some guy cooked pancakes with vertical sliced fejoias and grapes and had his manhood spurned by his mrs after felling trees in the yard with his chainsaw. No points said the wife rolling her eyes to the dusting gagging to be done. Feeling drained he wrote a letter to the political matriarch of the country, helen, outlining a tax system which would be fairer outside and inside the house, a recalibration of the points system if you will, for every mrs and mr, for every new zealander. A a small virus was thrown in just in case letters carried no points with the helen matriach. He thought a million bucks for Mother’s day 06 fair consolation whereby if needed he could, if he decided, visit Micheal Hill jeweller after all. It is no hoax – its just a desperate man, with little mana, who hates dusting. Enough is enough.

You’ve been listening to honest dave’s morning rant on the generator…

May Music Month

honest daves morning RANT is on THE GENERATOR every FRIDAY morning after 9.30 , 89 FM - or download an MP# when its up... who knows when... from the THE GENERATOR website./..

(and yes - tom jones sang 'delilah' (it just rhymed with fire better than cheryl moana)

good morning listeners

May music month.

Nz has come along way from the dark ages of the musical wasteland that I grew up in the 70’s and eighties. As a child who can remember poking the nose of the muldoon plastic piggy banks in toy world on victoria st, I can tell you that there was no great patriotism on the radio playlist in those days. Nothing. Nada. Although there was the odd rat in the turntable kitchen. John rowles-his- own may have had a little smoke with ‘delilah’ but there was no playlist fire on top of mount maunganui shall we say…. and delilah doesn’t even sound like a sheila from the east cape or masterton. In the 70’s John Rowles sang songs about Tania – not taniwha and longed for the bright lights of Te Vegas enroute from palmerston north. Word to the father. ‘Montego bay’ by john stevens was a another glimmer of kiwi musical cuisine that reached my pre pubescent ears even though casy casem on 1ZH hadnt heard of em or his herom of screaming sacred heart students in catholic hamilton east. Looking at my McMillans school atlas last night, I can tell you that montego bay is not part of our local foreshore. No, no Montego bay placards were hikoiing to the capital last year. In 1979 you couldn’t imagine jon stevens singing ‘Kaipara harbour’ No, new zealand music has come along way down dominion road in celebrating our imdigging it, indigenous heritage. Good on ya mates.

A year or two ago I was in a school classroom in Thames helping celebrate the arts in the school. I had 30 4th form students armed with classical guitars who didn’t know how to play a note looking at me for leadership. 30 kids with more clap than clapton. No slow hands but a lot of wrist. Being something of a scared person I stalled and got them to write down their 5 top bands.

The heart warming thrill of the day, only seconded by the musical haemorrage of 30 kids plucking sweet home alabama. (its just lucky lynrd skynard died on impact)…. the thrill of the day was that the bulk of these kids wrote down kiwi acts in their top 5 bands. Kiwi bands.

This is something. After scaling everest and splitting the atom and claiming pavlova as our own, we, or at least the young kids of today who ride very small bycycles, seem to have arrived, even in the cultural abyss of Thames high school, arrived with a keen pride in nz music . Captain Cook may have thrown the good ship the endeavour in and out of the firth of thames faster than you can build a new suburb in flagstaff, but listeners, the kids in thames are in no hurry. They have discmans now and mc donalds and they love nz music. Love it. Listeners be of good cheer, be heartened this day, in this great month of NZ music in happy hamilton.

This IS something. my top 5 songs in school in 1983 were move it on over, boys light up, burning down the house, legs by zz top and only cos my brother was into them….. I promised you a miracle by simple minds. No mockers. dance exponents, dudes, or hello sailer for me.

I still have a no hello sailer rule obviously, but things have changed. I think shihad formerly known as pacifier formerly known as shihad formerly known as bogans have musical mojo. I have heard che fu in grey lynn and had a transcendent experience. I have burnt a golden horse cd. I never saw Armstrong walk on the moon but I have seen Beck runga sign to Sony and have seen a blindspott drummer get lucky with a supermodel.

So we thank thee mother karyn hay and saint dick driver and radio with pictures and flying nun and c4 and music quotas and the generator for nz music. Thanks be to Howard Morrisn

And to the robber that ripped my stereo out of my Toyota yesterday, and rogered my car door lock. You did it on my freakin birthday – may you have a civil union with ricky martin

You have been listening to honest daves morning rant on the generator