PUZZLE ZONE
ACROSS 1. Poked 5. Genghis ... 7. Lay oneself open to 8. Window ledge 9. Inscribe 10. Sparkle 11. Madness 13. Slope 14. Game park tour
18. Change title of 21. Criss-cross structure 22. Uneven (in quality) 24. Below 25. Territory, Puerto ... 26. Swoop 27. Turn upside-down 28. Performs slalom 29. Tribal seniors
DOWN 1. Bumps roughly 2. Light timber 3. Drab 4. Conspirator 5. Moscow citadel 6. Praise 12. Aggressive dog 15. Ill on plane 16. Laborious
17. Chilled cuppa (4,3) 19. Argentina’s ... Peron 20. Paris boulevard, Champs ... 22. Priggish person 23. Kept us going, ... us over
Puzzles supplied by Lovatts Publications Pty Ltd www.lovattspuzzles.com See page 25 for solutions.
THE MEANING OF EXISTENCE... AND OTHER SHORT STORIES
Why we should take stupidity more seriously By Stuart McCullough DEVO were right: it really is a beautiful world we live in. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that it’s a beautiful place to be. We should probably whip it real good, but that’s another story. Granted, this big old Earth has its fair share of problems and you don’t have to look too far to find pain, misery and misfortune. But then there’s the good stuff: the unexpected things that serve to bind humanity in general and the planet more broadly together. One such event happened just recently. I refer, of course, to RSS Boaty McBoatface. After Albert Einstein invented the Theory of Relativity, the next law of physics he developed was ‘Never Work with Kids or Animals’. This scientific fact has been proved millions of times since, but with technology being what it is, these rules are in serious need of a re-draft. ‘Never Ask the Public to Name Anything’ ought to be a fundamental law of the Universe, unless of course, you’re happy to accept the consequences. When the National Environment Research Council had a new four hundred million dollar boat, they asked the public for name suggestions. The polar research vessel will carry scientists to the Arctic to answer important scientific questions such as: ‘how’s climate change going?’ and ‘what’s Santa Claus really like?’ There were many worthwhile name suggestions including ‘the David Attenborough’ and ‘the Endeavour’. Some smart alec even suggested the ‘Ice Ice Baby’. But, by far and away, the most popular suggestion was ‘RSS Boaty McBoat-
Having lured readers by creating false sense of comfort, we then offered up the following poetic magic: Love is like a winter’s day, Sometimes it comes, sometimes it doesn’t Love is like a winter’s fire, Its flames are burning with desire, It also burns the wood we put on it.
face’. As names go, Boaty McBoatface is immensely stupid. And that’s what’s so wonderful about it. You might say it was the first time I was truly responsible for anything. In year ten, I volunteered to be part of the editing team for the end of year school magazine. It was an awesome responsibility. A select few got to decide which of our peers had produced work worthy of publication. It was (and probably still is) a big deal. This magazine went not only to the students but their parents. Cleverly, class photos were buried within the pages, increasing the likelihood that adults would give the thing something more
than a cursory glance. It was my first taste of real power. Frankly, power tasted pretty good. The thing about a school magazine is that it’s not always easy to find top-notch creative works to include. Luckily, I had access to a near-limitless supply of jaw-droppingly awesome poetry; namely my own. It was inevitable that many of my works should find their way into the finished product. Had it been left only to me, the thing would have been chock-full of my teenage creative outpourings and my picture on the cover (probably). Luckily, other people were involved and provided something of a steadying influence.
One of these was Mark. We’d been friends for years and he was (and still is) a really creative guy. Editing is a task performed in the dead of night and I’ll admit that I got a little tired. And a little silly. A plan was duly hatched – Mark and I would combine our wit and wisdom to create the stupidest poem we possibly could and then sneak it in to the end of year school magazine. After all, we were the editing team. Who was going to stop us? To write a spectacularly stupid poem, you should first come up with a title that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the contents of the poem itself. We chose ‘Little Bunny Rabbit’.
It’s popular these days to hold events called ‘poetry slams’. As far as Mark and I were concerned, this was a poetry slam-dunk. That it took two people to author this poetic tour-deforce probably caused considerable puzzlement if not concern. Convinced it was completely hilarious, we ensured our poem appeared in a prominent place within the magazine. We held our breath as the finished product was duly distributed to every family at the school. To my surprise, no one said a thing. Our masterpiece went by, failing to provoke anything by way of a reaction. Perhaps it was not nearly silly enough. Or maybe they saw it for what it was: a harmless bit of fun. The people have spoken. There’s more than enough that’s serious in this world. There should always be a little room for stupid. Soon, Her Majesty’s Royal Research Ship, Boaty McBoatface, will be sailing the icy seas of the Arctic, seeking to unravel the mysteries of the Universe. God’s speed to all that sail in her. To celebrate I might write a poem. A poem that is as silly and stupid as possible. stuart@stuartmccullough.com Frankston Times 25 April 2016
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