They say you should try to encourage musical tendencies in children.
“They” obviously don’t have children.

I decided to let D-Girl have the old mini-keyboard that I had when I was a kid.

Things started promisingly enough; she cracked her knuckles then banged out the first few bars of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

Then she discovered the “Demo” button.
The one that plays Wham’s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.
The same Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go that go-goes on and on and on because D-Girl loves it and she’ll just sit there listening to it go on and on, repeating over and over. And over.
The same Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go that I have to listen to over and over. And over.

Or used to.

Thank God for batteries you can remove.

If I ever meet George Michael or That Other Guy from Wham, remind me to beat them to death with the keyboard that no longer go-goes.

That Steve Irwin who wrestles crocodiles? He’s a pussy.
I just spent the weekend fighting off a herd of piranha calves.

Piranha calves are about the most dangerous creature we have down this way. They look all cute and stuff, but if a herd of them get you alone they’ll suck your fingers right down to the bone.
That’s what they believe happened to a farmer down in the South Island last year. They later found his skeleton in the middle of a paddock. A big pile of calf poo was found nearby.

I lost three fingers in this encounter.

But at least I still have my middle fingers.For, you know, pointing out to people that they are ejits.

I also had a conversation with a mad cow:

The cow reckoned that Sponge Bob Square Pants should actually be named Sponge Bob Rectangle Pants because his pants aren’t really square and that millions of kids were being corrupted by false geometry.

And I just replied: “That’s crazy … cows can’t talk.”

Mooo.