Having reacquainted myself with Sydney, or rather the insides of the Gaslight, the Aussie Youth, the Slipp Inn, the Darlo, Pier 26 and the Clock, among other pubs, it's a relief to be home. Even more of a relief that the Girlie hasn't managed to wreck the place.

My bloggies have been busy too. Mark's set up this film festival reviews post on our culture channel that we'll all be contributing to. Feel free to leave your own thoughts on films you've seen in the comments section.

Mark also sends this on beautiful Palm Island, one of those tropical Aussie islands you don't want to go to:

Palm Island (pop 3,000) is home to one of the country's largest Aboriginal communities and, according to the Guinness Book of Records, is the most dangerous place on earth outside a combat zone.

He likes this on UK PR Max Clifford who openly admits the profession is about lies and deceit. On that note I came across a good PR poem recently:

Engine, Engine No. 9
Gets you to your job just fine.
Can't get off the PR track.
Ever dream you'd be a flack?

Hollywood, perhaps in desperation for a good yarn - any good yarn, is going nuts over amateur films on YouTube. And. lastly, there's this on the Supernanny phenomenon.

Chris laments the death of Mickey Spillane, the crime writer who gave us novels more noir than anything ever achieved on film. He also sends Richard Cooper’s interview with Charles Webb, who wrote The Graduate (surely one of the “50 best film adaptations of all time”, but inexplicably not). Cooper, NZBC’s friend over at Thoughtcat, managed a scoop when he scored an exclusive interview with Webb. It seems to Chris, however, that some of Webb's misfortunes, rather than being fault of the unscrupulous and greedy, have been largely self-inflicted.

As for “those poor bastards in Lebanon,” says Cooper, “don’t get me started”. The best take he’s seen on it all week is this cartoon by Martin Rowson.

There's some interesting comment over at NZBC’s favourite New Zealand literary site Leaf Salon, reminding us that poetry is a game in which it’s impossible to earn a living. And there's no point entering poetry competitions, either, because this guy always seems to win them.

Via Arts and Letters, an article that asks whether John F Kennedy's famous “I'm A Doughnut” speech in Berlin was a mistake in more ways than one (check out JFK's phonetically spelled index card to remind him how to say Berliner).

From me, just a bit of needle. Wouldn't it be ironic if George Bush's legacy was to raise Clinton to the status of a presidential great? Compare this with this. And finally if you haven't already read David Farrar's post on the "misdemeanours" of Taito Philip Field well, you should.

Ka kite ano.