In which our intrepid hero indulges a moment of pareidolia.

A couple of nights ago, as I am wont to do, I was out on my balcony having a cigarette. With nothing better to do—aside from listening to my flatmate’s woes—I looked down into the cornucopia of wonders that is my back yard.

(On that note, you might remember this wonder from back in September.)

About a month previously, the body corporate had cut down the tree near my balcony; I can now see the bushes that lived under it. Behind one bush was a dark patch, which could have been its shadow. On the other hand, it could also have been where someone emptied a bucket, the moisture yet to soak completely into the soil. Whatever it was, it had stained that section of yard. In the middle was an irregular, lighter area, about a foot and a half across.

It formed the shape of a perfect, sans-serif, lower-case letter “e”.

Things like this drive me nuts. A certain part of my brain yearns to believe that something so blatant can’t help but have meaning. It’s like going to the supermarket, and not only causing the EFTPOS terminal you’re paying for your groceries on to go down, but all of them in the store.

(Incidentally, that’s actually happened to me before. Have you ever seen someone run an EFTPOS transaction through manually, the way they used to with credit cards? I never thought I’d see one of those slide-and-carbon paper things in the digital age.)

That wet patch still bugs me. Almost enough that I didn’t get annoyed whilst watching Rage this morning, when they started silencing bits out of songs. Almost.

I’m not a huge Eminem fan, but I respect the guy. Yeah, sure, he spends half the time—to quote a friend—”singin’ about his dick”, but he does it in such an over-the-top way that he just has to be taking the piss. The other half of his songs are a lot more personal, often with some serious social commentary. There aren’t a huge number of rap/hip-hop artists whose music I like (and Eminem isn’t really one of them), but I can respect the guy for having a brain.

In the middle of his current chartbuster (I can’t remember its name, but it’s about the hardships of balancing family and public life), there was a very brief silence that stuck out like a sore thumb. Eminem (in the song, singing a line of dialogue from the subject’s daughter) begins a line with “Why don’t you just take a—” then half a second of nothing, followed by a line that ends in “will”.

Pill. Duh.

Does someone expect me to be too stupid to work that one out? Did I miss a memo or sunnat?

And what the hell is so wrong with the “P” word, anyway? We don’t want early-rising children to mistake it for an ad for contraceptives? An ad for contraceptives, on the AB-friggin’-C?

Or maybe it’s because the lyrics depict drug use? Maybe it could encourage impressionable viewers to indulge in illegal recreational pharmaceuticals. Despite the fact that the lyrics explicitly criticise avoiding life’s problems through intoxication? Is that it? Real mature move.

Grow up. Get over it. Take a pill.