So, what to talk about? Well it's been nearly 5 years since I've had a blog that wasn't entirely dedicated to: Political comment, football, education, and fashion advice for gimps. The world has changed a lot. The last time that Super Simmo was online (before deleting it as an attempt to keep my job at a certain private school of a certain christian denomination) FaceBook was still relatively light as a social network in Australia. A lot certainly changed.
Also, this was me before the sex change
What else has changed?
Well, for one thing, the Wallabies didn't suck. Cooking on television was restricted to the unemployable audience of 2pm. Having a video on YouTube got you laughed at instead of a record contract, and finally, the San Antonio Spurs were dominating the NBA. Seriously though, I'm a big fan of that team, but realistically, they are fucking dinosaurs.
Pictured; the Spurs starting five
What I'd like to offer my absolute distaste, nay, disgust in right now, is the severe lack of social settings that one can find themselves in, where cracking out the playing cards is appropriate.
Although cracking out something else is deemed even more inappropriate
It was only a few years ago that my brother and a group of his friends were physically thrown out of a mediocre restaurant in South Perth for playing a game of Briscola at their table after finishing a meal. What makes the story less tragic and a lot funnier, however, is the fact that they decided to then drive to another of their favourite restaurants in Osborne Park and complain to the owner there of what had happened. He then proceeded to set them up at a table and allow them to continue their game... 25 kilometres away and with less smugness in the air from where they originally started.
The Mayor of South Perth... and all smugness
My point here is that you can't just go to a nice place, order a meal, and just simply plant yourself there with a good group of friends long enough to enjoy three courses and a conversation, let alone entertain the mere thought of a game of Italian cards.
I'd like to visit one place where I can sit down, have my order taken, be served, and be given the bill in a lot more than the 15 minute time slot, or before the waitress gives you subtle hints to leave like giving you the stink-eye, accidentally spilling wine on your table or the casual death threat while no one else is listening.
No where is safe from this sickness of rushed dining either. At a recent gathering with friends and notorious underworld figures, the Indian restaurant we were eating at squashed half of our table so far up against the wall that it was suggested that bolemia may be a good strategy for getting ourselves out again, I believe that there was also a diagram at the back of the menu, although I could see those sitting directly opposite us having some sort of issue with that.
Apart from having our spleens, intestines and other vital organs squished together like the assorted road kill that makes a hot dog, we were given the privilege of all the hints to leave in the asshole playbook thrown at us.
Now, I'm not saying that restaurants in Perth aren't hospitable, I'm simply saying that they make a stay at Auschwitz seem like a 5 star resort. They're not completely error ridden either, it's just that you'd have a more pleasant time being invited to dinner by Mr and Mrs Goebbels, and having Himmler, Ayn Rand and Slobodan Milosevic arrive as guests, and those monkey brains from Temple of Doom are the main course.
I'd just like to express my pleasure in having you all here. Oh, and Heil Hitler!
You see, Perth, our fair city, still has a long way to go before being recognised as a city where you can actually enjoy a meal. I'm all for cooking at home and having a nice dinner with my family, but there are times when the occasion calls for eating out. It's difficult when even in Perth's most culturally significant areas, you can't have a good, decent meal without either being rushed out of the building, or taking out your life savings to pay for the meal.
Anyway, I digress. Back to my original issue. The playing cards.
Yes, there are very few social situations that you can find yourself in these days where getting out the cards is appropriate. I can't for the life of me remember the last time, if any time, that I didn't just get out the old dick deck all willy nilly and play a game.
Pictured; someone about to get out the old deck
It's only rarely now that myself and my comrades friends get together to have a few games of Italian cards. If only there were more situations in which it would be OK to do this. If you're invited to a party, you play cards with a small group and it's considered rude. If you are invited to dinner and someone doesn't know how to play, or isn't willing to be forced encouraged to join in, then it's considered rude to play. If you're at home and you fancy a bit of solitaire, then you may as well reach for the razor blades and turn on the bath tub because that's the most depressing fucking thing ever.
Great! All I need is a 6 of spades and I've won. Seriously though, I want to kill myself.
So what is left? In which setting can I just take out some cards and get into some serious games with my friends? If it's appropriate for someone to simply isolate themselves socially by playing Words With Friends on their phone, then shouldn't it be OK for a group of guys to yell Scopa! at the tops of their lungs while at the dinner table?
I don't know about you, but I consider this a pretty damn serious issue, and until it's resolved, our society cannot and will not progress to the next level.
So that's it. SuperSimmo is now officially back! You can follow me on twitter @SiCar and listen to all I have to say about football and life in general.
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