Executive Chairman’s Letter to the Shareholders, 2014 Annual Report

Currently we are quarantined from civilisation, floating in the Pacific, far from VIP gaming at both Chaplet Melbourne and Perth has reached record levels. Chaplet continues to demonstrate that, by offering first rate facilities and generous rewards programs, we can attract a greater number of domestic and international visitors., aboard my restored superyacht that is crewed by staff who, like Chen Xiu, I also do not acknowledge. 

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One Flesh

I click on the link he’s sent me and find myself looking at a gallery of Adam and Halli’s Southern wedding, an attractive American couple I’ve never met nor ever will. The masthead is simple and streamlined – white sans serif typeface on black background.

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Facebook Redux

Michael showers and shaves, then snaps a few self-portraits in the mirror. He lifts his phone high, tilts his head and pouts. Click.

He’s a substantial man, with ruddy jowls, a small, pleasant mouth and cheerful eyes. At sixty-seven his head is a gleaming dome. Most of his male friends are doing that ridiculous neo-combover thing: a few last pathetic hairs brushed down over one eye, emo-style. He prefers total baldness—chemo-style. Click.

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I Have Friends Who Are Growing Gardens

A Private Tour of David Finnigan’s Computer

I have friends who are growing gardens – they want tomatoes and herbs – and while I don't have that impulse to grow and tend something, I do sometimes feel as if my computer's interior is a garden, and that I tend my desktop, my files and folders, my email and other online accounts the way they tend their fruits and vegetables. My digital space sometimes seems to grow of its own accord, it flourishes and withers in unexpected ways, I trim it and sculpt it and try to keep the weeds from growing.

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Poems by Adriane Howell

‘Never feel guilty about pleasure,’ she tells me, presenting her slow-roasted pork belly: tender, fat-softened meat with viciously crunchy crackling. I can almost taste the fat that dribbles gold down the pork’s exposed flesh. My stomach quivers and my taste buds swell. But it’s only a photo, a partitioned strip, a hint to pleasures that can be mine if I buy her whole book.

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