Mike's P&W about teapot aesthetics? Quite possibly..

Mike's Pith & Wind - Non person
I wrote this a few days ago. ‘I’m feeling particularly irritable at the moment. I’m a bit hungry and my ankles are cold, but the twin sources of my irritability are staring at me implacably as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened. There are moments when the blood surges into my brain and I want to smash my fist through them, but I know I’d instantly regret this course of action. Bloody computers.’
But it was odd. For those few days the site was off the air I felt disconnected and even invisible in my day to day non-internet interface with the world – like a walking, talking, flickering hologram that other people sense they can walk right through.
Mind you, there are days when walking down the street must reflect your emotional well-being. I’m sure we all have them. I’d just walked across Camberwell Road from Junk Shop (Music Junction) and was heading towards the office (Choclatté) when I became aware that a bloke coming the other way was making a move to avoid me. For some reason I moved the same way, at which he looked slightly panicked and moved the other way - at precisely the same moment I did. The third identical move had us doing an uncertain dance on the spot, at which we both burst out laughing before, with large embarrassed gestures, we broke free from our magnetic orbits and wandered off in opposite directions muttering to ourselves.
We’re about to head off on one of our more regular forays interstate and I’ve just had the van.. read more

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Dick's Toolbox - The live animal trade
Somewhere about the age of three I watched a sheep dragged into a concrete room and have its throat cut thence to be lifted up by its hind legs and be cut into pieces. I recall the blood running into a gutter running across the centre of the floor. This took place in the abattoir next to the farm cook house and the cook was the slaughterman. There was no distance and very little time between the paddock, pen, abattoir and the table filled with shearers needing large amounts rough sustenance of tough mutton and boiled vegetables.
I can recall even now the look of dumfounded terror and confusion as the animal struggled futilely seemingly aware of the horror to come – probably through the smell and the building’s knowledge of the many deaths beforehand. I, who could never have known what was about to happen, was appalled, not just at the blue piles of intestines cascading from the sheep’s opened belly but at the off-hand indifference to the animal’s.. read more