Sweet tea amazing!

Some bright spark – with time on their hands (I am so buoyantly glad, as it turns out, that whoever this dead-set creative genius is, HAD the time on their hands) has gone and created an Alfred Hitchcock mash-up video that truly must be seen to be believed.

Murder/death scenes from 36 of Alfred Hitchcock’s movies have been spliced together and synchronized to climax in unison. A little on the grisly side perhaps but full points for the breath-taking creativity and technical smarts it took to pull off a trick of these proportions.

Lights – Camera – Action – Mayhem!

For the film buffs, here’s the breakdown of the individual movies these scenes were taken from –

You mean, that’s all? A blog post devoted to just one three-minute video?

Almost doesn’t seem right, does it? And for that reason, here’s one more video to end things off on. Completely unrelated topic but huge in the creativity department as well. Hope you like it.

FOREST LAKE. It’s the place SCENIC WRITER’S SHACK calls home.

True to name, this suburb does feature a lake. And, if you can call collections of trees grouped together in grassy open areas a ‘forest’, then I guess, at a stretch, FOREST LAKE has one or two of those as well. What it definitely does not have is a mountain. Surrounding suburbs are likewise as flat as your hand.

Cyclists – an athletic-sounding term I’ve recently grown fond of attaching to myself in the company of folk who have maybe never met a legitimate one – crave mountains like a dentist longs for an open mouth (I experienced the adrenalin-rush of a prolonged wisdom tooth extraction recently so at a stab, I’d say that’s where that analogy sprang from). So what’s a two-wheeled ‘roadie’ to do?

If the mountain won’t come to Glen, then Glen must go to the mountain.

And that’s exactly what I do… early every Sunday morning, if by ‘every’ we can agree to mean the last nine Sundays in a row. Bike goes in the back of the car the night before and then in time for the hues of a new day, it’s a 22 km drive to the foot of Mt Cootha – elevation: 302 metres above sea level and the highest peak in the city of Brisbane.

Pedaling up is a hard slog form of torture that gives fresh meaning to the expression ‘breathtaking views’ (easy breaths being in pretty short supply on the merciless incline). Once you reach the summit however, a whole new feeling takes over. Cue old mate Rocky…

Sidenote: That little bit of snow-capped inspiration came from the movie ROCKY 4,, which any one old enough to remember, would know came out in 1985. That just happens to be the same year when I last rode up Mt Cootha on a pushbike. Just sayin’!

Hurtling down the mountain, on the other hand, at bobsled-like speeds on impossibly thin racing bike tyres is a white-knuckle ride par almost none that has been known, on some occasions, to spontaneously flash into my mind the following cartoon –

Cheese-factor wise, I can confirm the rumours claiming that some weeks I play the song KING OF THE MOUNTAIN by Australian group Midnight Oil prior to my Sunday morning mountain treks, for a little bit of, you know…vibe and motivation… are completely, 100% true!

Wouldn’t say I’m a great fan of this video – although I note it has had in excess of 4 million views and attracted over a thousand comments – but the song? It’s a winner for me, and so very, very Australian.

Sidenote: KING OF THE MOUNTAIN was released in 1990 but this band is still together and about to embark on a four month national tour of Australia and New Zealand to promote a brand new album..

For anyone unfamiliar, the bald-headed larrikin you see doing his lead singer cavorting thing in this video used to be a member of the Australian Parliament for 10 years and a Government Minister (Environment: 2007 – 2010 & Education: 2010 – 2013) for seven. Interesting, huh?

Back on the topic of cycling, as important as safety should be to a cyclist, as they are rocketing down a steep slope or snailing up it, is what I’ll call the ‘look’. Cyclists know what I mean.

I used to mock those lycra-clad bicycle riders kitted out to look more like high-wire circus acrobats. That was back in the eighties. Now I’ve become one of them. Kind of.

An ex-mate of mine donated a couple of his used jerseys as well as a pair of padded bicycle pants a few years back; to get me up and on the road, so to speak. That kit’s been working well. But like a lot of things, once you’ve got your confidence up, next level comes calling soon enough.