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I just read a very upsetting news story.

The Australian police, fed up with alcohol-related violence at car racing events, are cracking down. At the recent Bathurst 1000, a three-day race in the town of that name, they decided to set some fun-killing limits: only 24 cans of beer per person per day. I mean, for Pete’s sake, we all know the fun doesn’t start till 25, right? Am I right?

Just when I was gonna cash in some mileage and head to Bratwurst, or whatever it’s called, for some awesome party time, I have to ask, what’s the point? I mean I might as well stay here and go to a damn Rams game (or are we the Vikings ? The L.A. Colts? I can never remember) where they no such limits and better hot dogs.

Not to mention the Aussies are limiting wine, too: don’t try to show up with more than four litres per person. I know, so what’s a litre, right? Don’t the Aussies speak English? Well, I Googled it: a litre is 33 ounces, roughly, so each person is limited to  uh, what’s 33 times 4?…uh, well you get the picture. It’s downright Draconian, if you ask me. If I imposed those limits on my book group, they’d never come over.

For a bunch of people who go around saying “cheers” all the time, you’d never guess Australians could be such party poopers.

I find it creepy, that story in the news about the two girls (ages ten and twelve) who went wandering in the storm drains in some town in Australia and got lost. To me, Aussie storm drains seem like a must to avoid; I picture them sort of super-sized and full of, I don’t know, mutant sharks or something. (I know, I’ve seen too many horror movies.)

But the story gets more complex. The girls, who apparently had cell phones and adequate service, made a goofy choice. Instead of calling 000 (the local emergency number), they made Facebook status updates with news of their predicament. Sadly, their Facebook cry for help went unnoticed for several hours, until a friend finally caught it and called, uh, 000.

This is the kind of event that inspires criticism of the girls’ parents for coming up short on safety instruction. But I’m not in a position to blame them. I don’t think I ever said to the girls, “When lost in a storm drain, call 911 first, then update your Facebook status.” Now I’m wondering what other safety tips I forgot to tell my daughters.

Ah, well, they are off at college now and must fend for themselves. I might just text them a heads up about the storm drain/Facebook thing. (Better late than never.) I’d write them on Facebook, but they refuse to friend me.

I’m fascinated by the goings on in Chinchilla, a tiny town in Australia that hosts a wild and well-attended Watermelon Festival every couple of years.

One of the activities featured is watermelon skiing. You stick your feet in a couple of melons, like shoes (or maybe jump on them from a high place), and ‘ski’ down a slippery slope in this all-natural equipment. There’s pit-spitting, too, of course, and the melon bungee event sounds intriguing, but the big draw is the melon smashing contest.

The world record was broken recently when a guy smashed forty melons with his head in just under a minute. (Here’s the evidence). I’m thinking this would be a good exercise for anyone who is suffering from an overexposure to bad economic news. Read the Wall Street Journal and then go smash some watermelons with your head to get over it.

But when the Chinchilla story begs the question of what they do with all that watermelon pulp at the end of the day, I’d suggest they harvest it for watermelon martinis. Drinking these is a kinder, gentler way to kill the Economy Blues. I mean, smashing melons with your head is not as easy for everyone as it is for that guy in Chinchilla. (Here’s the evidence.)

Here’s a recipe for a watermelon martini, but don’t drink too many or it will be you who is gettting smashed.

Watermelon Martini

3 ounces pureed seedless watermelon

3 ounces citrus vodka (or watermelon vodka)

Juice of one lime (about 1 ounce)

2 teaspoons simple syrup (or more if you like it sweeter)

Ice

Place all the ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Stir like mad, then strain the martini into a cocktail glass and drink it right up. Do not attempt watermelon skiing if you have had one of these cocktails.