Help! Aliens Stole My Christmas

It’s obvious. Aliens from Planet Twerk descended to Earth and rendered me unconscious as part of the extra terrestrial ‘Schoolies’ prank and I have only now, nearly twelve months later, awoken from my state of alien stasis. I have no proof, of course. But even if I didn’t see them before the lights went out, I’ve long suspected that they’ve been watching my every move. That may sound far-fetched, but I dare you to come up with a more logical explanation. For other than the possibility that I’ve been in an alien-induced coma for the last twelve months, it can’t possibly be Christmas again. I’ve no idea where the year has gone.
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Everybody Wants to Ruler the World

Once upon a time, there was paper. Using either a pen or pencil, it was customary to write on sheets of paper in order to communicate with others. This was before the computer made the art of handwriting almost wholly redundant. Back then, a tweet was something you wrote down, put in an envelope and mailed to another person. Several weeks later, you might receive a response to your written missive. Granted, it was painstakingly slow, but the world was a better place for it. It was an era when it was okay not to know what Lady Gaga had for breakfast and Shane Warne’s thoughts on almost everything remained his alone. It was, in other words, a paradise.
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At the Top of My Bucket List

Travel – when done properly – is much like warfare. The element of the surprise should always be paramount. Whether you’re hooking the caravan to the back of the car and heading to Merimbula or invading France, no one should ever know you’re coming. That’s why you must always begin in the dead of night. The similarities between holidays and ground-based military incursions don’t end there. As kids, not only did holidays begin with us being ripped from our slumber in the dead of night, we were also forced to wear fatigues and camouflage paint. Little wonder people thought we were weird.
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The Artist Formerly Known as ‘Erik’

I’d like to think I make an impression on people. I’ve long believed that time spent with me is not soon forgotten and that those whose lives I have entered – if even for a little while – often spend evenings sitting on a porch, reminiscing about all the wonderful things I used to do. For years I drifted along thinking that others held only warm thoughts for me. As it turns out, I was mistaken.
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