Articles from Cheeseburger Gothic
Primary tabs
National (food) Service.
I dropped Thomas off at work yesterday. He’s banging the pans together at some burger place/cocktail bar on the other side of the river. It was a hot day, and the ferries were running slow and overcrowded because of New Year’s Eve.
As is his way, he casually dropped a hand grenade into the conversation, completely out of nowhere. He said, “There should totally be national service, but not for the military. Everybody should be forced to work for one year in a commercial kitchen.”
From Bondi to Bedtime: The Sad Decline of a Party Animal
I can't remember when I stopped caring about New Year's Eve, but the fact that I can’t remember tells me it must have been years ago. The last party I vividly recall was on the roof of our apartment in Bondi. I insisted on making frozen margaritas for everyone, and it turned out to be a great night. I remember it fondly, but that was before the kids were born—so, we’re talking a couple of decades ago.
Boom!
We had to make a trip to the nerd shop over the weekend—Computer Alliance, way out in the boonies. Jane needed a new monitor for her setup, and since I love a good visit to the nerd shop, I was more than happy to tag along.
Almost done.
Today isn’t the last working day of the year for me. I have a commission I want to wrap up before NYE and I’m this close to finishing it. But not close enough. So I’ll be chipping away at that after Boxing Day.
I hope everyone else is winding down for the year. It’s been, well… a year. Another one coming right at us. 2024 finished badly, with the news about Andrew Reilly. My heart breaks for his friends and family.
Sad news.
I heard this morning that Andrew Reilly has died. He was only here a couple of days ago, making me smile with his usual deft wit.
Some of you knew Andrew better than I did, and some not at all apart from his comments here and at the Boob.
Either way, he is a great loss to us all.
But mostly of course to those who knew and loved him best.
Found in my drafts.
I was going through my iPhone this morning, deleting a bunch of dead, unused apps and downloads, getting ready to switch to a 16Pro after Christmas, and I came across a 2011 document in my Notes app that feels like it must have been a draft for either an old Blunt Instrument column or maybe the sports column that I was writing for The Bulletin back then.
Pitchforks.
This was written ten years ago. A billionaire warning other billionaires that they are fucking everything up, and soon enough there will be a price to pay. Interestingly, the billionaire prophet says one of the reasons he is a billionaire is because he has a fcility for seeing things coming. Not because he’s extra intelligent or boast some off scale technical brilliance. He’s just less risk averse and he sees things coming.
Pitchforks, mostly.
Boot theory.
Had to put the car in for a service yesterday and was anticipating a very spendy bill. Which is what I got, plus a 24hr delay because of all the work I was paying for.
