http://citizen-joe.com/index.php en brent@citizen-joe.com Copyright 2009 2009-08-26T08:18:22+00:00 http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/i-miss-her/ http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/i-miss-her/#When:08:18:22Z I can’t take my eyes off this piece of writing every time I see it. There is an honesty and a vulnerability that is hard to explain. I can’t take my eyes off this piece of writing every time I see it. There is an honesty and a vulnerability that is hard to explain. You can almost feel the sense of loss. The pain. It’s frighteningly obvious in the simplicity of the language. You just want to reach out and give this person a hug. You know my first thought was that it was written by a male. But the more I look at it, the more I think it was painted on by a female. A man would have run at the wall with his car.  A man would have tried to swallow up the pain and still go about their day. Pretending nothing was a miss. Except for her.  Women are far better at expressing what they miss most. They’re not afraid to tell the world. Just like this. Commentary 2009-08-26T08:18:22+00:00 http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/dog-toys-that-make-sense/ http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/dog-toys-that-make-sense/#When:11:50:23Z Walk into any pet shop and there is a wall, yes a whole wall full of toys. Toy bones, toy balls, toy squeezes, toy bowls, toy bats and more. So many more. Why hasn’t anyone thought about the toy people toys? Walk into any pet shop and there is a wall, yes a whole wall full of toys. Toy bones, toy balls, toy squeezes, toy bowls, toy bats and more. So many more. Why hasn’t anyone thought about the toy people toys. For example they should do a Toy Postman, Toy Jogger, and a Toy Dentist. You could have a Toy Robber; you know with the mask and the striped t-shirt. And what about the Toy Old Lady, complete with hair net and walking stick? Now that’s an idea. These are all full size models made out of the same durable plastic that the toy bones are made out of. Except they are of people. I reckon dogs would love them. It’s a perfect way for dogs to get back at humans. It would be great taking the dog to the park with the Postman under your arm. You let the dog off the lead and throw the postman; “Go fetch, Butch, go fetch, good boy.” Wow, you can imagine the looks on people’s faces. Or take it to the beach and slowly just float the Toy Jogger out to sea and then get the dog to bring it back in and drag it up the beach to your towel. Sounds good to me. The only negative I can see if you happen to be a Postman. You’d have to make sure that you weren’t wearing the uniform as you walked outside. If your father was a Dentist, it may cause some problems I can see. And it may be a little uncomfortable around Christmas when all your old Aunts come around for turkey and find they’re being seen as dessert. But apart from that, it’s all good. Ideas 2008-07-06T11:50:23+00:00 http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/i-think-i-am-therfore-i-am.-i-think/ http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/i-think-i-am-therfore-i-am.-i-think/#When:12:00:22Z I was listening to a podcast with designer Massimo Vignelli. He said the most interesting thing. He said when you are designing, always look at the essence of things, not at their appearance. Appearance is something that wanes, it’s like fashion. What on earth is he talking about? I am trying to make sense of it. I was listening to a podcast with designer Massimo Vignelli. He said the most interesting thing. He said when you are designing, always look at the essence of things, not at their appearance. Appearance is something that wanes, it’s like fashion. I am Italian born, grew up in Australia on a diet of American culture and English Literature. To me Italians have an unnerving honesty about them when they speak. The Americans always make everything sound like they have just read a book on the subject; but there’s little emotional depth to the comments. The English always want to portray that somewhere on the planet they still rule the world, but if they can find a carpet, they just may sweep everything under it before anyone looks too deeply into things. If I look at myself, I am made up of all three. Funny isn’t it? I don’t know why. In many ways I wish I was more honest and raw in my comments. I wish I had the outlandish optimism and confidence of Americans. And yet somewhere deep inside I yearn for the quiet reserve of the English. Damn! Commentary 2008-06-23T12:00:22+00:00 http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/if-i-had-a-boil-on-my-arse/ http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/if-i-had-a-boil-on-my-arse/#When:05:34:22Z Lady Macbeth had a little problem, but I sometimes think that we would rather have to deal with the Lady’s issues rather than have to feel the soft, fleshy touch of a boil. Out, out damn spot. But is it a spot or a feature? Imagine those romantic nights, when you slip into bed next to your partner. You reach around seductively and feel the soft curve of their behind. You know it has always been the thing that has attracted you to them. yet this time, there it is; there is a small, soft, “marble-shaped” protrusion. You just know if you squeezed it, there would be an eruption of volcanic proportions. So, what do you do? Is this now the end of the relationship? Well, this is how dictionary.com defines a boil: ...a painful, circumscribed inflammation of the skin or a hair follicle, having a dead, suppurating inner core: usually caused by a staphylococcal infection. Mmmmmmm, very sexy, don’t you think? Are we that shallow that this would actually turnus off, or at the veryleast turn our stomach? Would it turn me off? Would it turn my partner off? What the hell, it’s well past midnight, the dog is snoring in its basket and I’m dealing with imaginary boils erupting in my imagination. Commentary 2007-02-27T05:34:22+00:00 http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/manheater/ http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/manheater/#When:12:25:59Z So, I was walking my dog the other night. It was cold and dark, when suddenly she runs off and no matter how much I call she doesn’t respond. I notice she has run down some steps, into an alleyway and disappeared in someone’s doorway. I feel like Nelly Futado in that clip, Maneater. So, I was walking my dog the other night. It was cold and dark, when suddenly she runs off and no matter how much I call she doesn’t respond. I notice she has run down some steps, into an alleyway and disappeared in someone’s doorway. I feel like Nelly Futado in that clip, Maneater. I go through the door. There are people everywhere, men topless, muscled bodies sweating. They look around at me as I walk through. There is a twitchin in my step. I walk on. One of the people that approaches is black and has that strange, pupilless look. This is strange, and suddenly there is a strong beat that starts up. It envelopes my entire being and I have to dance. Just like Nelly Futado in that clip. The music and the driving beat is intoxicating. People watch. All of a sudden I don’t know why but I start singing: Everybody look at me, me (Oh my God, I hear myself, not bad though) I walk in the door you start screaming Come on everybody whatchu here for? Move your body around like a nympho (well I don’t know if that’s quite appropriate, but what the heck) Everybody get your necks to crack around (not sure how you do that, must be a chiropractor’s convention) All you crazy people come on jump around I want to see you all on your knees you either want to be with me, or be me It’s wild, again it’s that Nelly Futado thing that’s happening. I can feel it. Slowly, I pull my top off over my head. My hips are going crazy, my feet have a life of their own. Still the beat drives on. The people watch in what I’m certain is amazement. I’m pumped now, there’s no stopping me. Swivel, swivel, and slide, and slide. Like Nelly Futardo, I continue: Maneater, make you work hard Make you spend hard Make you want all, of her love I see a couple of the guys coming over. I swivel my hips harder as if to knock the guys over. She’s a maneater make you buy cars make you cut cords make you fall, fall in love I call them over to join me. Why wouldn’t they want to I think. They do come over and beat the living crap out of me.I try to continue: She’s a panheater (hard to sing through swollen lips, never knew how Mick Jagger did it) make you puy carvs make you cut cords Wish you never ever met her at al One last whack and that’s that. I wake a little while later with my dog licking my face. Wow, don’t you just want to be like Nelly? Imagine walking into the hardest, bitchinest place in town and being able to control everyone with a swivel of the hips. Must keep trying. She’s a manheater ... Amusing 2006-11-17T12:25:59+00:00 http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/can-a-tomato-change-the-world/ http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/can-a-tomato-change-the-world/#When:14:01:17Z Sometimes I think that we should approach things with extreme care. Sometimes just the smell of a tomato, or the odour of a school bag with its mixture of a thousand lunches, can often bring memories rushing back at a pace you can no longer control. Today I planted some tomato plants. I always remember home grown tomatoes that my father had once cultivated in the small back yard, that was hidden away in a small suburb, in the middle of a sprawling city. I remember the smell and the taste. They were fragrant like nothing that ever made its way out of a supermarket. They had a strong flavour. It was ripe and full. It played with your taste buds. It teased them into thinking that the world was a wonderful place. Can a tomato make all this possible? Can it change the world and bring your childhood rushing back? I don’t really know,but I hope so. There is nothing like having slithers of soil between your fingernails. You smell your hands and they are like the soil; full of life, pulsing, organic, real. Anyway, the tag on the plant says 10 weeks. Damn, I should just go to the supermarket and buy some. Commentary 2006-11-04T14:01:17+00:00 http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/my-fathers-joke/ http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/my-fathers-joke/#When:10:52:25Z “Two great friends are killed in an accident. One goes to heaven, the other to hell.” My Father started off with a smile on his face. A little like a Jew, an Englishman, and an Australian walk into a Pub, I thought. I visited my father last night and he told me this Joke. He has never told me a joke before. My mother had told me jokes before, but never my father. It was interesting. And the joke wasn’t too bad either. Two great friends are killed in an accident. One goes to heaven, the other to hell. Heaven is not too bad. The weather is always consistent, the food is excellent and the pillows are fluffy. However, the friend really misses his great former companion and would love to see him and have a chat. It is not encouraged and it takes years to get a pardon to go visit hell. The friend arrives at the gates of hell and looks in. He is amazed. He sees the most beautiful women; buxom, tall, blonde, scantily dressed, and absolutely gorgeous. There seems to be at least two for each man. The friend can’t believe this. It’s supposed to be hell. He looks over the female flesh and he spies his great, former companion. He his surrounded by women in a hot tub. They see each other and hug warmly. “What is going on?” says the friend. “I thought this was supposed to be hell. We don’t get any of this up there.” his finger points to the heavens like a model in a Da Vinci portrait. His former companion, stands and starts to climb out of the hot tub, beautiful, naked women move aside. “Oh, it is, believe me. This is definitely hell.” His friend notices something is missing. As his former companion climbs out of the tub, he notices that he has no penis. He looks around and none of the men here have a penis. Amusing 2006-05-30T10:52:25+00:00 http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/is-that-an-arse-i-see-before-me/ http://citizen-joe.com/index.php/index/is-that-an-arse-i-see-before-me/#When:06:18:39Z I happen to look up and behind her I notice a male, 180 cm, solid build, balding hair and dressed as stylishly as a bag of chips. He is doing what most men would do. He is looking at her backside. His tongue licks his lips and I am almost sick. I’m sure that deep in his mind he believes that no one has noticed his leer. He is leering. I am crossing the road on my way to work. It is early in the morning; like really early. I just happen to look up at the traffic lights. There on the other side is a very attractive female waiting for them to change. I happen to look up and behind her I notice a male, 180 cm, solid build, balding hair and dressed as stylishly as a bag of chips. He is doing what most men would do. He is looking at her backside. His tongue licks his lips and I am almost sick. I’m sure that deep in his mind he believes that no one has noticed his leer. He is leering. Sorry, I don’t even want to think what is going on in his mind. That would be too much to take at this hour of the morning. And not having had breakfast as yet, there is nothing for me to throw up. I know all men will look. They don’t all look like this. I know most men admire and observe. I know a lot of women like the attention. But what I see on the face of this man, makes me never want to look at another woman’s bottom again. Quickly I cross the road. I keep my eyes to the ground as the last thing I want to meet is this man’s glance. Would he give me a knowing look, a wink? I almost run past him, I turn into the foyer of my building and look up from the ground slightly. I see a very attractive female bottom and “admire” it as inconspicuously as I can. And then I move on. Commentary 2004-11-26T06:18:39+00:00