Born to be mild

Steppenwolf, of course. Easy Rider, of course. The song "Born To Be Wild" has become a cliche, a laughing stock, a parody of everything it might have once stood for or said. It was, it's said, the first heavy metal song, and the lyric provides the first use of those two words used in conjunction. It's dragged out by broadcast journalists every time they have a story dealing even vaguely with motorcycles. It was the standout track on Steppenwolf's 1968 album, and used as the first big song on 1969's movie "Easy Rider". 'Nuff said.

It seems the NZ Police want us all born to be mild, if their Special Tactics Group spokesman is to be believed. When being questioned about the veracity of the Kim Dotcom search warrant and the methods used to execute it, the STG chappy said (in court) with some indignation, that Mr Dotcom was "belligerent and disdainful".

As opposed to what, Mr Gun-Totin' STG person? Mild, and polite? Fawning, and obsequious? Timid, and grovelling? Of course Dotcom was belligerent and disdainful. (Actually, he wasn't belligerent. He physically surrendered. Dotcom was belligerent and disdainful because he is a highly intelligent person - you don't get to develop and run a business turning over hundreds of millions of dollars if you're stupid - and knew what was going on. He knew the NZ Police were toadying to their FBI colleagues. He knew the guns and helicopters and total overkill was all theatre, and all gobshite.

The rationale used by the anonymous coppers in court for the guns (we saw a 10 year old photo of Mr Dotcom holding a shotgun! Shriek! Panic!) and hugely overmanned attack on his home (we needed men to neutralise his cars because we'd seen a YouTube clip of Mr Dotcom driving at 260kph on Germany's autobahn, so considered him a flight risk) is pathetic.

As for when he was physically arrested... well, what a balls up that was on the part of the Special Tactics group. They knew where the Panic Room was, because Dotcom has shown a visiting constable all of the house's features a few days prior to the raid. This co-operation on his part, of course, made the zealotry for guns and shock and awe all the more rational. But, even knowing where the Panic Room was, it took the arresting team 13 minutes to track him down. Despite the fact that the Panic Room's door was left unlocked. Then it took a lot of yelling and gun-pointing and noise to persuade a fat man to hold his hands up, to push him to the ground, to punch him (yes, I believe him on that one) and to accidentally trample his fingers (Yes, I believe the cops on this one. There was so much chaos that it's highly likely it was accidental).

The whole thing was bullshit. And the NZ Police Commissioner should be asking some very hard questions, and making the answers very public. Bet he won't, though.

ON TO ME: Diagnosis: cluster headaches. Have to carry powerful anti-cluster-headache drugs with me at all times. Might get a man-bag. And I can go back to work, once I get the letter from the doctor. woo hoo. Monday week should do it.

READING: Ken Follet, "Fall of Giants". Big, fat book. Good start.

LISTENING TO: Steppenwolf, "At Your Birthday Party". Excellent.

PRODUCT: Sounds fm. They're doing a lot of TV advertising right now. Tuned in when I was in hospital. Like listening to my own album collection. And they don't just play the "popular" tracks from albums. They play stuff I haven't heard in years.