I'Ll Go Home Then, It's Warm and Has Chairs. The Unpublished Emails. -

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I'Ll Go Home Then, It's Warm and Has Chairs. The Unpublished Emails. - Page 11

by David Thorne


  Also, while I appreciate your accusation is based on third party information, whether it is you or your friend doing the watching isn't the point. If you came over to mow my lawn, I wouldn't expect to look up and find you standing outside my window watching the activities that I have spare time to engage in because I don't have to mow the lawn, and if you bought along a friend and stated, "This is Barry, while I mow your lawn, Barry is going to watch you through the window," I would close the curtains.

  Due to the resulting lack of natural lighting, if I then switched on a modern yet inexpensive table lamp in order to relax with a copy of The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism, the last thing I would expect is to later receive a written reprimand for product misuse from IKEA.

  Regards, David.

  …………………………………………………

  From: [email protected]

  Date: Monday 8 August 2011 10.04am

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: #392-8139992

  Dear Mr. Thorne,

  When you opened your account, you agreed to the terms and conditions of that account. The Digital Millenium Copyright Act isn't a Comcast policy, it's a government law.

  Comcast has a firm stance on piracy. Violation of our Acceptable Use Policy may result in mitigation measures ranging from lowering your bandwidth and limiting your access to certain websites to suspending or cancelling your account. Under new agreements between Comcast, the RIAA and the MPAA, violators may also be required to participate in a program that educates them on copyright law and the rights of content creators.

  I recommend you protect your wireless connection with a password as soon as possible to prevent possible unauthorized use as all future violations will be treated as repeat offenses.

  Your account has been flagged and will be monitored for further breaches of copyright. If you believe an error has been made, you can request an independent review for a fee of $35 which will be added to your Comcast account.

  Best regards,

  Derek Reid, Customer Service

  …………………………………………………

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Monday 8 August 2011 11.26am

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: #392-8139992

  Dear Derek,

  Thirty-five dollars seems reasonable. I will take four. I do not, however, require either your proposed piracy school (unless part of their course structure covers working around Cinavia), or your advice on protecting my wireless router with a password.

  When I was about ten, my route to school passed a property with an orange tree growing in the front garden. Walking at a pace one morning, which wouldn’t close the twenty metre gap between myself and Bradley McPherson (the school bully) ahead, I witnessed him pluck an orange, turn, and throw it at me. If I had stood my ground, the orange would have struck my chest but instead, ducking and turning, it exploded against the left side of my head. Returning home, I avoided detection of my school absense by hiding in the tool shed for the rest of day and writing a report to the Ministry of Plenty accusing Bradley McPherson of fruitcrime.

  A few weeks later, I lost hearing in my left ear and, shortly after, experienced ear-aches. Following a visit to the doctor, it was discovered that pulp had imbeded itself deep within my ear canal and a small orange tree had sprouted from a seed.

  At no time was the responsibility for the act of throwing an orange at my head, or the resulting months of jokes about free produce and planting corn in the other ear, placed on the owner of the orange tree for failing to have a walled garden.

  Bradley McPherson was hit and killed by a car shortly after that while furiously peddling his Malvern Star across a K-Mart car-park while being persued by store detectives.

  When a card for his parents was passed around the classroom for everybody to sign, I wrote "Sorry Bradley died" using an orange pen and coloured in the 'o' in 'sorry'. I also drew a picture of Bradley riding his bike with a giant snake chasing him but the teacher went over it with Liquid Paper®.

  Regards, David.

  …………………………………………………

  From: [email protected]

  Date: Monday 8 August 2011 2.21pm

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: #392-8139992

  Dear Mr Thorne,

  There is little point continuing this correspondance. Despite denying that you have downloaded and watched pirated movies, it is obvious from your description of pixelation and Cinavia and people getting snacks that you are watching pirated copies. If you are trying to make some point about oranges you're wasting your time as I’ve no idea what you are getting at.

  If you have any further questions regarding your account please direct them to your local branch.

  Best regards,

  Derek Reid, Customer Service

  …………………………………………………

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Monday 8 August 2011 2.37pm

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: #392-8139992

  Dear Derek,

  At no time have I denied downloading and watching pirated movies. I admit to having downloaded hundreds of movies and, even though the last time I purchased an album was in 1984, I have thousands of MP3's. I simply deny downloading and watching the movie you have accused me of.

  My preference not to be watched on the internet is less based on repercussions of copyright infringement than the fact that copyright infringement could be considered the least criminal of the activities I engage in online.

  Regardless, I understand the Digital Millenium Copyright Act allows internet service providers exemption from liability and, as such, Comcast's proactive stance; therefore, I agree to behave on the internet. Or at least use a proxy while downloading Thor.

  Regards, David.

  Ten reasons I probably shouldn’t be alive: the treehouse

  When I was about ten, I decided to build a treehouse after reading a book called The Swiss Family Robinson in which a family, the Robinson’s, are shipwrecked and decide to live in a tree.

  Our neighbour, a rarely seen widower named Mr Anderson, owned a fenced-in quarter acre block with a large shed at the back of the property. Figuring Mr Anderson would never notice, I removed the planks from the fence behind his shed, using a claw-hammer that I found in his shed.

  Using the planks to construct the frame and floor of my treehouse, I discovered I needed more planks. Removing several more from his fence, I realised that Mr Anderson would be able to see they were missing if he looked at the right angle so I covered the gap with a sheet and secured it in place with tape. Completing construction a few hours later, I spent the rest of the day furnishing and painting the interior of what was, essentially, a collection of planks balanced precariously on top of each other.

  That evening, after my parents had returned from a marriage counselling session and turned in early, I decided to sneak out and sleep in my treehouse.

  Taking a pillow, blanket, flashlight and snacks with me, I had just settled in for the night when a light breeze caused the walls and roof of the treehouse to collapse - pinning me to the floor. The only part of me that wasn’t covered was my face, leaving me staring upwards as it started to rain.

  Unable to call out or move due to the crushing weight, I remained there the entire night, falling asleep at one point but waking when it started to rain harder, before finally being rescued the next morning when Mr Anderson let his cat out and heard my soft cries for help.

  While I was at the hospital with two fractured ribs and collapsed lung, Mr Anderson took back his planks.

  David & his best friends go shopping

  Being branded a sheep

  I have always wanted a tattoo. The problem is that I have always considered people who get tattoos as sheep. Especially those that go in and order number fourteen off the wal
l of a dolphin for example. I decided that if I was going to be a sheep and get a tattoo, there was only one choice of tattoo to be permanently branded with.

  There is nothing xmasy about Santa driving a moon buggy

  I like Kevin. He is a good account rep, has enough grandchildren to start his own small army, has only seriously lost his temper once when someone used his coffee mug featuring the words 'I'd rather be fishing' and uses words like 'space-age' instead of 'modern'.

  Kevin once told me, "it's a good idea to carry around a piece of string in your pocket in case your shoelace breaks." When I asked, "why not just carry around a shoelace?" he reponded "because that would be stupid."

  Kevin likes it when I tell him he looks like the guy who played Rain Man and always replies, "it's Dustin Hoffman and no I don't, idiot."

  Kevin also pretends that he doesn't like moon buggies, which can't be true because everybody loves moon buggies. I could probably think of six hundred reasons why it would be good to own a moon buggy, but the three main things that impressed me most about them as a child were:

  1. Solid rubber tyres 2. Walkie talkie 3. A stick not a wheel

  If I lived on the moon, instead of scientists spending billions of dollars sending robots to take photos and collect rocks, they could ring me and say, "Hello David, would you mind having a look at a rock for us and maybe snap off a few photos?" and I would reply, "Not a problem, I will take the moon buggy out now. Do you want me to email you jpegs?" and they would probably respond, "Yes, jpegs are fine."

  …………………………………………………

  From: Kevin Eastwood

  Date: Wednesday 23 November 2011 9.04am

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Card

  Dave,

  Mike says we need to design a company Christmas card to send out to clients within the next week or two at the latest. Last year we had the company logo with the Santa hat on it blowing back to show speed so it has to be something different that is still space-age and fast. Mike was thinking we could wrap tree lights around the name but make a blur like they're moving. The inside just needs to say Happy Holidays and a prosperous new year or something like that. Any thoughts?

  Kevin

  …………………………………………………

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Wednesday 23 November 2011 9.14am

  To: Kevin Eastwood

  Subject: Re: Card

  Dear Kevin,

  Wrapping Christmas lights around the company name is indeed an inspired, original and creative solution. This is why Mike gets the big bucks while I have to be content with stealing change from your desk drawer when you are downstairs.

  Clients will no doubt receive the card, do a double take and thrust it at colleagues exclaiming "OMG! This Christmas card we just received from Mike is fantastic. It has lights wrapped around the company name. Why didn't we think of this? It's both space-age and fast. Team meeting now! Somebody's gonna be fired."

  We could probably also add Santa waving from behind one of the letters and dot the 'i' with a snowflake to ensure the festive message is not lost.

  David.

  …………………………………………………

  From: Kevin Eastwood

  Date: Wednesday 23 November 2011 9.23am

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Card

  You'd better not be the one taking all my change. I use it for parking meters. Does your creative input end at sarcasm or do you have a better idea for the company Christmas card?

  Kevin

  …………………………………………………

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Wednesday 23 November 2011 9.27am

  To: Kevin Eastwood

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Card

  Moon buggies are space-age and fast.

  …………………………………………………

  From: Kevin Eastwood

  Date: Wednesday 23 November 2011 9.32am

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Card

  Why would we have a moon buggy on our Christmas card?

  …………………………………………………

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Wednesday 23 November 2011 9.51am

  To: Kevin Eastwood

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Card

  Everybody loves moon buggies. They have solid rubber wheels, a walkie talkie and a stick instead of a steering wheel. If I lived on the moon, I would drive a moon buggy every day. I would make ramps to jump off. Bright yellow ones that contrast against the monotone landscape to avoid accidentally driving up on an angle and flipping the vehicle.

  When I was quite young, there was a television program called

  The Banana Splits which featured a dog, gorilla, lion and elephant, driving around in little ATV buggies with three wheels on each side.

  I wanted one of those buggies so much. Employing a strategy that could be likened to Ralphie’s quest to obtain an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle in that story about Christmas, I forget the name of the movie, I drew pictures of buggies, talked incessantly about them and, for six months leading up to Christmas morning, made daily statements such as "If anyone became trapped in quick sand and I had a buggy, I would be able to pull them out." I also wrote a school report titled, 'Why everyone needs a buggy' comprising of a three page list (starting with 1. Buggies have solid rubber tyres that can't pop) and several drawings of myself driving a buggy.

  When Christmas day arrived, there was a large wrapped box (the same size as our new washing machine) with my name on it besides the Christmas tree. Realising that all my hopes, dreams and obsessive hinting had delivered to me the one thing I craved more than anything on the entire planet, I ripped it open with a strength you usually only hear about in those stories where the mother lifts a tree off her baby, to find a smaller box. Inside the smaller box was a smaller box and inside that was an Action Man.

  My parents and sister seemed to find this hilarious but it wasn't even the good Action Man with the raft, it was the Action Man with a beard.

  To express my dissatisfaction, I placed the Action Man behind the rear tyre of our car, envisioning it being crushed would somehow result in me getting a buggy. As we reversed out of the driveway on our way to visit relatives, there was a loud 'pop' and my father got out to discover Action Man's left leg imbedded in the tyre.

  The company Christmas card could feature Mike dressed as Santa driving a moon buggy, with his big red sack of disappointment in the back, at excessive speed without concern for the sharp and hazardous terrain. This would represent not only his 'unpoppable' dedication to client delivery, but also the lack of any atmosphere in his office.

  Regards, David.

  …………………………………………………

  From: Kevin Eastwood

  Date: Wednesday 23 November 2011 10.08am

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Card

  We're not having Santa driving a moon buggy on our company Christmas card. If you have any ideas that don't include moon buggies then ok otherwise we will go with something that is festive with an actual commercial aspect and is not just stupid. There's nothing festive about moon buggies.

  …………………………………………………

  From: David Thorne

  Date: Wednesday 23 November 2011 10.56am

  To: Kevin Eastwood

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Card

  I could put tinsel on the walkie talkie antenna and, despite your suggestion otherwise, moon buggies have several possible commercial aspects. If I lived on the moon, I would drive my moon buggy to the poles and plant nuclear explosives under the ice. Safe inside my shatterproof moon buggy dome, the explosions would melt the ice, sending a plume of moisture over the entire moon's surface thanks to low gravity dispe
rsion. I would then plant potatoes in the fertile soil and set up a farm. Possibly with a few cows and a pond with ducks like you see in movies. Maybe a small wooden jetty from which to fish. In summer, I would jump off the jetty and swim.

  I jumped off a jetty at the beach when I was about nine and landed on a scuba diver. At the hospital having my arm put in plaster, I was less concerned by the injury than by the fact I was not wearing underpants under my board-shorts. Having been told several times to wear clean underwear in case I get hit by a bus, I believed medical procedure would require the removal of my shorts at any moment... and I had coloured my penis with blue food colouring. Because I thought it was funny. Or it may have been a boy thing. It was a long time ago and the specifics are hazy.

 

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