Australia, All In A Tizzy Over Naked Photos

Over the past week or so there has been something resembling a witchhunt in Australia. A gallery in Sydney was preparing to show a selection of photos by Bill Henson, a very well-known Australian photographer.

The images featured two nudes, a 12-year-old boy and a 13-year-old girl. And that prompted quite a response. The New South Wales police raided the gallery and hauled off about half the photos. The Prime Minister Kevin Rudd (who looks like a prude to me) said he was revolted by the photos, which I understand were sensual but not explicit. Other politicians piled onto the anti-kiddy-porn bandwagon looking for easy points. Some, including a key opposition figure Malcolm Turnbull, criticized the storm and said he even owned a couple of Henson photos (not of nudes, though).

Then the Australian Capital Territory police raided the National Gallery of Australia, looking at other Henson photos in their permanent collection to see if any of them crossed an uncertain line.

Why now? Henson has been taking similar nude photos for twenty years. They have been displayed all over Australia. They are provocative, perhaps disturbing, and clearly whether you like them or not, of real artistic merit. They are done with the permission of the adolescent models AND the parents, and with the parents present. They aren't even the only thing Henson does (I like some of his night-time cityscapes, very eerie light and color - similar, actually, to his adolescent nudes).

Is it difficult to understand that a photo of a nude person under age 18 does not automatically mean child pornography or the sexual exploitation of that young person? And not all images of nude humans are necessarily done for prurient or exploitative reasons?

Henson's photos aren't for everybody. Hell, neither is Jackson Pollack or JRR Tolkien. But this is really a pretty absurd reaction. It's like the police have gone back to the 1960s when you could be arrested in Australia for possessing a photo of nudes.

Today's Very Bestest Headline: "Boy band creator sentenced to 25 years in prison"

What a fine headline: "Boy band creator sentenced to 25 years in prison". A fitting fate for Lou Pearlman, who created those hideous musical abominations known as the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync.

Now TECHNICALLY he was sentenced to 25 years in the slammer for scamming something like $300 million over the years.* Not scamming in the sense of selling Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync albums, tickets, and DVDs - after all, people more or less voluntarily paid for that crap. Nope, Pearlman was TECHNICALLY sentenced for defrauding banks and a bunch of investors.

But the crack news and research team at Alas Yorick has uncovered secret transcripts from U.S. District Judge G. Kendall Sharp's conversation with the prosecuting attorneys.
Prosecutor: We recommend 10 years, your honor.

Judge Sharp: Screw that. Do you know how much of that Back Street Boys shit I had to listen to? My daughters played it nonstop. And what's with these kids who want to be in boy bands? It's so wussy. They should be getting an ax and shredding like I did when I was 15 years old. No, this sonofabitch Pearlman is gonna pay for his TRUE crimes. I'm throwing the book at him.

Prosecutor: Rock on, your honor.

Defense attorney Fletcher Peackock:** I can't argue with that logic.

Twenty five years is still a bit light considering the enormity of Pearlman's crimes. After all, there is still the risk he could form a boy band while in prison. Could Bee-Hind Barz be the next big boy band? To guard against this risk, I recommend solitary confinement for Pearlman.

After all, somebody has to think about the children.

*I do give Pearlman some credit. I always laugh at those who get thrown in jail for skimming something like $20,000. Not worth it. But $300 MILLION? Now THAT is worth the risk! ;)

** Yes that is his real name.

A Good Rant, Averted

On Sunday, our telephone gave a series of strange, sickly rings. When we picked up the phone later that evening, the line was dead. Later, our internet went out.

So I called our provider on Monday, prepared to unleash my wrath. After answering some questions, the guy on the phone said it appeared the problem was with the line outside the house, and they'd send somebody out on Monday or Tuesday - and we didn't have to be home.

So on Tuesday I got home from work, skeptical about all this. I picked up the phone - and had a dial tone. I unplugged the wireless router and plugged it in - and after a few seconds, the little green internet light was back on.

Huh, whaddaya know? The phone/internet problem was resolved within 30 hours of me calling them. I was all prepared to write up a scathing comment on Optus crap service (which I would have had to do at work). But ... it all seems to be okay.

Never mind.

A Few Days in Bangkok

I just got back from a few days in sunny Bangkok, Thailand. Actually, scratch that - in five days in Bangkok, I didn't see the sun ONCE. A couple of patches of blue sky but no sun. Partly a question of pollution, but also just the season - the monsoons are getting ready to begin, and we had one tremendous thunderstorm one evening.

Anyway, I hadn't been to Thailand in about 10 years. That sky train that was being built when I was last there is up and running, there are even MORE skyscrapers in Bangkok, and the traffic is as bad as ever.

One contrast I noticed between Bangkok and Hanoi (Vietnam) was the make-up of the traffic. In Hanoi, probably 90% of the vehicles were motorbikes. In Bangkok, there were a lot of motorbikes but they were in the minority - maybe 20% from my unscientific observations. That reflects the much greater economic development and wealth in Thailand compared to Vietnam.

Not that it was all wealth. There were a few beggars here and there, under overpasses, along the street, near high-rise buildings that would fit in nicely in Houston or Osaka. I saw people sleeping on the sidewalks, and passed a row of semi-demolished shops where people were clearly living in a sort of open-living arrangement (lucky Thailand doesn't get cold).

I had the Sunday free, having arrived at midnight Saturday night for a Monday morning conference. I walked along the main drag of Sukhumvit, lined with vendors (many of whom were deaf, speaking to each other in Thai sign language), ducking down side streets, just absorbing the sights and smells and humidity. I wandered into a north Indian or Pakistani restaurant for lunch. After sitting and ordering, I glanced around. I saw a picture of Yasser Arafat with some words of praise for him (in English). Across from my table was a sign (again in English) extolling the virtues of Hezbollah and urging them to keep up the just struggle against Israel, etc. There were photos of various martyrs. And that one cool National Geographic photo from 20 years ago of the Afghan girl with the piercing eyes. I didn't engage in political conversation with the wait staff - but the Afghani chicken and naan bread were damn good.

Around the corner from that place I saw something I had never seen in my life. It was a restaurant. But not just any restaurant - it was a Liberian restaurant. I've never heard of nor considered Liberian cuisine before. I'm sure it was there not because Liberian cooking has made the international leap like Italian or French or Thai or Chinese or Vietnamese. Apparently, there is a small Liberian community in Bangkok. At least, the three guys eating at an outside table looked West African to me.

In the same part of town, I turned down another side street and it was as if I'd been transported to the Middle East. I'd seen plenty of women in burkas and guys in the long flowing robes that Arab men often wear - but I'd seen lots of Japanese and Europeans and all as well as Thais of course. THIS street however was different. The signs were all in Arabic; very little English or Thai writing. Apparently, a big center for Thailand's expat Middle East population.

Sunday night I went out to dinner with my friend who lives in Bangkok, to a nice Thai food restaurant called The Mango Tree. Then we went for a walk thru Patpong. That's the part of town where the girly bars are - prostitution central dating back to the Vietnam War era, when American servicemen would go to Bangkok for R&R and a good time. It was weird. You could glance in the bars and see the women dancing in bikinis, with numbers on them. It was like a grotesque parody of a beauty show, except the numbers were there not to help keep score, but so a customer could identify the woman he wanted to score with. Women in revealing evening gowns would try to get my friend and me (and any other guy on the street not with a woman) to go in. Guys kept pushing laminated pieces of paper in front of us, with a menu of the various sex acts you could watch in some of these places. I didn't read the menu, but my mind went to "Priscilla Queen of the Desert"...

But on the very same street were nice restaurants (Thai, Japanese and Italian predominant), clubs with live music, legitimate shops, street vendors selling food that smelled wonderful, and lots and lots of pedestrians including locals and tourists who were clearly not on the prowl for a hooker or a sex show. An odd place.

It was also full of booths selling all sorts of neat things at improbably good prices. Want that latest CD by Mariah Carey? "I Am Legend" starring Will Smith? A cool t-shirt with the Harley-Davidson logo? PhotoShop? A Rolex watch or Louis Vitton handbag? A rolling suitcase with Hello Kitty? All available in Patpong, the main street Sukhumvit, and elsewhere in Thailand, for very good prices.

And 99.9% fake.

Thailand is one of the big centers for the production and sale of counterfeit products (China, Vietnam, Russia are among the other big offenders, but there are plenty of others. I once bought a ripoff Billy Idol cassette in the Dominican Republic; it faded to silence halfway thru side two. You get what you pay for ($2), I guess.). I didn't buy any of it - partly because it isn't quite right, partly because the quality isn't as good, partly because I just don't give a damn about Rolex watches, and I sure as hell wouldn't load counterfeit software on my computer for fear of nasty viruses and other scamware. But I must admit I saw a Thai guy walk by with a very cool Beatles t-shirt (I'm sure McCartney and Starr and the Lennon and Harrison estates didn't get anything for it, it was a white outline profile on black of the Fab Four crossing Abbey Lane) that I might have bought if I'd seen it...

There were other cool products for sale that weren't counterfeit. For some reason, both Patpong and Sukhumvit had lots of lethal looking knives and brass knuckles for sale, but you know my current arsenal meets my martial needs. There were some very attractive textiles - Thai silk is beautiful. And there were neat wooden carvings of elephants, etc, but I didn't buy any because I figured I'd end up getting them confiscated in Sydney by the hyper-vigilant Australian quarantine officials...

Speaking of elephants, one night another friend (in Bangkok for the same conference) and I went for a long walk after dinner, and came across a guy leading his animal down the sidewalk.

The animal was a baby elephant. I know it was a baby because it was only about a foot taller than me. The guy offered to give us a ride on it, but I declined. I feel bad for animals like that subjected to the tourism trade.

That was about all I saw. The conference I attended (about intellectual property, telecommunications, and trade if you are interested) took up the rest of my time. Oh wait, I did manage to get a suit made! Went to a tailor near the hotel on Sunday for measurements, on Monday went back for a first fitting, a second fitting on Tuesday, and Wednesday I had a brand-new custom made suit made of a high-quality English cashmere/wool blend for $300. Can't beat that with a stick.