A Spray For Spray-Painters

I've been reading through some posts I have recently made on this blog, and I'm wondering am I turning into a lugubrious malcontent.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I AM a lugubrious malcontent!  And in true lugubrious malcontent style, I'm going to blame my disposition on the fact that this planet is seriously becoming over populated with brain-dead cocksmokers who appear to have made it their life calling to aggravate the living snot out of everybody with a skerrick of common sense.  I don't have much coin to spare, but I am happy to stump up for the proposed settlement on Mars - not for me, it's to send these dickheads to live far, far away; a place with no oxygen which would be suitable karmic retribution because they've been stealing all the oxygen here on Earth.

Take, for example, the morons who vandalised the statues of Governor Macquarie, Captain Cook, and Queen Victoria.  Let me ask you this: Do you seriously have issue with our colonial history and the distressing treatment of our indigenous population, or do you just want an excuse to be destructive flogs?  Whilst world geography/history is not my long suit (although my overall general knowledge kicks all kind of arse), I think it's fair to say most countries who have been subject to European colonisation, or invasion if you'd prefer that word, have an unpleasant story to tell.  Now does vandalising a statue, which is after all an artisan's creation for both remuneration and the enjoyment of the public, the answer?  Let me give you a hint: the answer has two letters, starts with 'N', and ends with 'O'. 

Here's an anecdote for you.  In the main street of my town a new statue has been erected.  It depicts a blue heeler cattle dog.  My fair (or fair inasmuch as having a cloud of coal dust hovering) town takes great pride in being the supposed birthplace of the first ever dog of this breed.  Now, when I take my two fur-babies for their walk, there is a house with three rather large, mean dogs that jump up and stand with their paws on the fence, letting out short, sharp stentorian barks as we pass.  Occasionally, I have a bit of a fright with the sudden racket.  How do I cope with this aggravation?  I snap at the dogs to go fuck themselves, and take a different route home.  I could take this alternate route all the time, but don't always want to climb up the hill.  What I don't do is vandalise our town's new statue to protest my disgruntlement about some dogs.  I was actually bitten by a dog when I was a child, but again, I do not vent my frustration on the statue.

If there is a problem with what these statues of historical figures represent, or trigger, can I make this suggestion: keep the statues, but put up another plaque as well acknowledging the impact upon the indigenous population, and emphasising respect for our indigenous population.  Statues of noted Aborigines would be great, too.  This speaks of reconciliation, gives work to an artist, and would be another tourist attraction.  Win/win all round.

As for changing the date to celebrate Australia Day, well, I'm kind of ambiguous.  Here's the thing: the First Fleet landed 26 January.  You can't change history.  However, if the country ends up picking a different day to celebrate, a day without negative connotations for people, then that's not going to bother me greatly.  But whenever we have Australia Day, why don't we just come together and celebrate what makes us great?  This land is home to an ancient civilisation with a majestic culture.  This land is home to descendants of convicts who believe in a fair go for everyone.  This land became federated as a country through peaceful means, and there aren't many counties who can brag about that.  This land is home to migrants who wanted a new and better life, and who also contribute.  Let's celebrate the fact that we're all different, but all awesome.   Just don't do it on 12 February because that's my birthday, and I want my birthday to myself.

Seriously, you clowns with cans of spray paint should be given an enema with your own weapons of choice.

Okay, vent over. Now all I have to do is deal with all the other shit that's pervading my life and causing abject misery.  It's hard.  I don't know what to do.  Part of the problem is how I perceive the problems that have been dealt to me.  Objectively, they're first world problems.  If the crap was happening to a colleague, I could comfort and counsel my colleague.  But it's happening to me, and I seek counsel elsewhere.   So here is what I will do:

1.  Remind myself I am better than this.  I am a smart person, and the people who are causing me stress at the moment are the type of people who, when not licking windows, lose about 250g of their brain matter whenever they take a crap.

2.  Breathe.

3.  Listen to daggy music.

Okay, rant over.  I'm just off to You Tube 'Penny Arcade'  by Roy Orbison.

More Government Gunk; More Malaise

And it begins.  The government wants to start randomly drug testing welfare recipients in Sydney's south-west region.  I've said it before, and I guess I will have to say it again because clearly the government is not listening to me.  I am aware I am embodying the pinnacle of arrogance in my belief the government should listen to me, but I daresay I will have to wear it  Look, you pack of turds, this is going to achieve nothing.  What is the point to doing this?  The majority of the more noxious drugs actually leave the system quite quickly, so by the time you caught up with some random and subjected said random to a drug test, the result yielded would be negative.  Waste of time and money, and frankly something of an infringement of civil liberties.  There is no reason to test somebody.  A lot of people have a problem with alcohol.  That's a drug, too.  What if the person you test is over the limit?  What then?  Oh, that's right, you're getting tax dollars from alcohol.  Fat soluble drugs like cannabis tend to hang around in the system for a while, but so fucking what?  A person could have had a smoke a few weeks ago, and owing to the properties of tetrahydocannabinol, there could still be traces that would show up, even though a person is unlikely to be 'affected', and probably has had no craving for Tim Tams in weeks.  This testing is just such a needless lot of bullshit.  Compromise an addict's welfare, and watch the crime rate rise, when people are stealing to afford their habit.  And for those of you who complain that you have to be drug tested in the workplace, big whoop.  You're tested for safety reasons; your decision to ingest drugs could compromise the safety of one of your workmates.  Bitching that YOU have to be tested so therefore OTHERS have to be tested is like me griping that I don't have a butt like Beyoncé, so therefore nobody else can, either.

I watched some talking heads on television this morning saying they should be tested because it's 'our money' they're receiving as a subsidy upon which to live.  No.  Once they receive it, it's theirs.  Also, welfare recipients pay tax in the form of GST, and many welfare recipients have found themselves in
the unenviable position of being that way after having paid tax for many years.  So spend the money elsewhere, government.  Does the testing agency have a vested interest in the government?  Are they donors to the Liberal Party?  Jus' wonderin'.  Oh, who am I kidding?  Youthful street slang doesn't sit well with me.  I am curious about this.  Ah, that's better.

Life's been a bit overwhelming of late.  I've still got to finalise the edit to my upcoming novel 'Howling On A Concrete Moon'.  I've been in a malaise brought about by some misjudgement of my own, but also actions of people who really are the skidmarks in the underpants of humanity.  These are people who've had no conjugal joy since Operation Desert Storm, and who suck the joy from life with the ferocity of an imploding black hole.  I'm hoping the situation will resolve in my favour soon.  It's making me very despondent.

I addressed my current malaise by treating myself to an hour at a local pub on Saturday night, to watch a band.  I enjoyed this band.  I enjoy any band whose repertoire consists of very competent performances of numbers by AC/DC, Ted Nugent, Free, Bad Company, The Angels, and Deep Purple.  I do not enjoy someone who is pissed out of his skull trying to engage me in conversation; I could not hear over the sound of the band and what I did hear was as boring as dried bat guano on the floor of a cave.  Except the constant refrain of: 'I saw you here a coupla years back.  You were wearing a green dress and boots.'  Yes.  That would have been me.  I do have a greenish dress and I do usually wear boots when I go out to this pub because I walk there.  I did not know whether to be flattered at having clearly made such an impression, or creeped out that I might have an obsessed stalker.

Camp-pain Campaign, and Berk-a Burqa

I'm wondering whether to thank that woman who complained to David Jones about their use of a Sudanese-Australian model in their campaign.  Not because I agree with her stance.  Indeed I do not.  In fact, I think this woman has behaved somewhat offensively to say the least.  No, it's because her jaw-dropping, mind-blowing, bowel-loosening stupidity has taken my mind off my own problems.  It's nice to have a break from the anxiety that's bothering me at the moment, gnawing at my insides like a rat on a splintery piece of timber in a disused barn.  Yes, what that woman did actually distracted me, and made me think: what the actual fuck?

To complain about the use of a model of Sudanese background, well, seriously, you might as well get yourself a tee-shirt that reads: I Am An Unadulterated Moron With An Undercurrent Of Racism.  On the back can be printed: I Don't Understand It's Not Always About Me.

Apparently the problem this fool had was she cannot identify with the model.  She doesn't have that skin colour, and wouldn't be wearing the cosmetics used on the model.  Truly, so bloody what?  Is there something inherently wrong with using a person of colour on the front page of a catalogue?  I'm not sure what the problem is.  I'm sure the campaign uses models of different skin tones and colours to showcase their cosmetics range.

David Jones is a very upmarket store.  They are not going to put an ignorant bogan on the catalogue, so this woman might have trouble identifying with any models used in the campaign.

I am sure I am never going to identify with the models in the catalogues, either.  This could change if DJs decide it's time to cast models who are middle-aged, with the occasional twinge of arthritis, and who are completely frazzled with the demands of work, motherhood, and life in general, and are therefore trying hard to not reach for the bottle of wine.

Shopping at David Jones is beyond my budget - except for perhaps hosiery, which I occasionally purchased when I was working at a law office in Elizabeth Street, Sydney CBD.  One day, I was desperate after my pantihose laddered.  I hurried to the store, and found it was the day Elle MacPherson was scheduled to do some promotional appearance.  The store was utter bedlam.  It was like the Boxing Day sales with people scurrying and squashing everywhere.  An imperious store clerk waylaid me and cried in self-important tones, 'Ma'am, if you want to see Ms MacPherson, you will get a better vantage point by the Castlereagh Street entrance.'  I snarled back that Ms MacPherson was right down the very bottom of my priorities, and I merely wished to purchase pantihose.

David Jones issued a response along the tones of being sorry she felt that way.  This is a polite way of saying 'crawl back under your rock, you utter imbecile.'

Just when I thought people couldn't get sillier, Pauline Hanson entered Parliament wearing a burqa.  Certainly a paper bag would have sufficed?

What's Up My Nose Today

It might be the unseasonably warm wind that's messing with my biorhythms, or maybe I'm just turning into a cranky old woman, but some things have really been getting up my nose lately.  I don't like things going up my nose.  Hell, I don't even do cocaine as I find the thought of snorting something up your hooter like that rather gross.  But here are the things that are getting up my nose of late:

1.  Amber Heard.  Remember her?  She's an overrated bint who, along with her then beau Johnny Depp, thought she would bring two ugly scrawny mutts into Australia.  Barnaby Joyce, a tad theatrically and melodramatically, brought to their attention (which clearly has a span like Scarlett O'Hara's waist) we have stringent bio security laws in this country, in which thereof they were in breach.  If you're reading this, Amber - and don't skim over those big words; just sound them out - this is why our country doesn't have rabies and what you and your ex did potentially threatened our agricultural industry.  She and Depp put out an insulting sorry-not-sorry apology video, and it fooled nobody.  I was saddened to have to re-think the crush I once maintained on Depp, and grieved a little over it.  But anyway, in light of the recent revelations that Barnaby is constitutionally a citizen of New Zealand, possibly his position as Deputy Prime Minister is now untenable.  The High Court will rule on this in due course.  But Amber has posted a few gleeful 'ha-ha-on-you' type tweets, and here's the thing: she's coming across as a spoiled petulant narcissistic brat who can't handle being caught out for breaking the laws of another country.  Neither ignorance nor celebrity will get you any sympathy from me.  If you're after sympathy, go to the dictionary - it's near syphillis.  Maybe someone will help you.  I might have to whip around the hat and we can all donate to a fund that will enable you to purchase a ladder, and then you can get over yourself.  The situation with Barnaby Joyce segues to...

2.  Malcolm Turnbull for speaking about his confidence the High Court will rule favourably in relation to Barnaby.  This is an implicit interference by the Government with the role of the Judiciary.  Stay the fuck out of it.  I'm a bit sorry for Barnaby (who in light of his recent inadvertent allegiance to New Zealand will likely be hereafter known as Baa-naby), but I think he's tried to do the right thing.  I don't know what it is, but I even have a soft spot for him.  Maybe he makes me laugh.

3.  People saying Charles shouldn't take the throne, in the current rumours the Queen will abdicate on her 95th birthday.  The reasons people are coming up with for Charles to not take the throne are just personal dislike, and mainly that he was banging someone to whom he wasn't married.  Because he was an adulterer (as was the late Diana, don't forget that!) people think the reins should be handed to William.  Look.  As far as I know, the line of succession goes to the Prince of Wales, which is CHARLES, and by law he's next in line.  It's really silly to deny someone their birthright because they had sex with another consenting adult.  Worry about your own sex lives, not that of Prince Charles.  I am very annoyed that I have just typed a paragraph concerning the sex life of the next in line to the British throne.  I might have to go on eBay and bid on a life.

4.  That fucking APIA ad.  You know the one: it's a bunch of older people singing some insipid, flavourless, anodyne song that goes along the lines of, 'I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger....' It's the most annoying jingle since that supermarket one where some bloke that sounded like a jackal shrieked, 'Where d'ya geddit?'  Remember that?  Yes?  I apologist for reminding you.  Anyway, back to the APIA ad.  When it comes on, the bulk of my day is ruined because it runs around my head like some torturous loop.  You could extract information from captured spies with this shitty song.  They will hand over the plans and names just to make it STOP!  I have been so tempted to bash myself over the skull with a hammer to make it just go away.

5.  Whoever it was who photographed someone enjoying an avocado and cheese platter at an AFL game, and plastered it on social media, sparking some debate about whether or not it is 'unaustralian' to not have a pie with sauce.  Whoever did this, you're a dick and should think about your life choices.  Can't a person have a frigging chuck of avocado in peace without everybody analysing his motives?  Far out!  I occasionally prepare myself smoothies containing almond milk and chia seeds - does this make me some kind of pinko commie?  Come and look at my bookshelf: it is groaning under the weight of Stephen King novels, and some unsold copies of my third novel 'Silver Studs & Sabre Teeth', but you won't find a copy of Marx's and Engels' manifesto there.  And if you did?  So what?  My house; I'll read what I like.

6.  Speaking of reading, my Year 10 son is reading To Kill A Mockingbird in English this year.  This in itself is not annoying me.  Au contraire, I am delighted and I am hoping he too will fall in love the beautiful narrative, the plethora of amazing characters woven into the tapestry created by Harper Lee, and the sad, dark themes.  Yeah, anybody who knows me this is one of my top three favourite novels.  I'm trying to discuss the book with my son, but he's at that Grunt-At-The-Parents phase, and is more a mathematician than an English lit type.  I tried to get him to speak to me when his class did MacBeth, telling him this is my favourite Shakespearean work and I studied it at both school and university.  No soap.  So what's annoying me?  He said when the class was due to commence, 'Mum, do you still have your copy of To Kill A Mockingbird?' I confirmed I did indeed hold my much loved and shabby copy, that I suspect originally belonged to my own mother.   I asked why he wanted to know.  He told me the school does not have enough copies for the students.  I'm not sure how to say this, or am I just being naïve when I wonder could the Government maybe throw a bit of funding toward schools so they will have sufficient number of English texts.  Perhaps some of that $122 million on the postal vote for same sex marriage (that is NOT legally binding anyway) could have maybe gone to schools?  And hospitals?  And domestic violence shelters?  Just a thought....

My Note To Turnbull, Shelton, & Abbott

Lyle Shelton, if you can turn your mind away from your omniscient invisible sky wizard who has no compunctions about giving kids cancer, even if it's just five minutes, can you please explain what you're on about with your assertion that same sex families will lead to another stolen generation of children?  Seriously, man, are you on crack?

Same to you, Tony Abbott. Shit, your own sister wants to marry her same sex partner.  Do you really think the Earth is going to spin off its axis and disintegrate if two people of the same gender marry?  Other countries allow same sex marriage, and so far the Earth is still intact.  We're all still, courtesy of gravity, walking around on this big hunk of rock floating in orbit in it's special place - third in line from the sun.  Does it really matter if people of the same gender marry, when you think about it?  It's not going to affect your life.  If it does, then YOU'RE the one with the problem.  Maybe you're too lousy to want to buy her a wedding gift.  Perhaps you're strapped for cash, after all, your daughter needed a $60,000 scholarship.  Or have you just not forgiven her for the time when you were kids and she dobbed on you for putting frozen peas in your father's gumboots?

And as for you, Prime Minister Turdball: a $122 million dollar postal vote?  God almighty, are you also fried?  Is the result, which we know is likely to result in a majority in favour of same sex marriage, legally binding?  I'm under the impression it is not, and my giddy aunt what a colossal waste of money.  The majority of the country is in favour of same sex marriage.  The majority of the country is aware nothing dreadful will happen when people of the same sex marry.  The majority of the country support the rights of consenting adults to marry the person they love.  Back in 2004 Johnny Howard particularly had the Marriage Act altered to define marriage as being between a man and woman.  Nice one, Howie, you snivelling, pandering-to-the-religious-lobby milquetoast.  But importantly, when Howard set the wheels in motion to have this particular piece of legislation worded thus, there was none of this plebiscite or postal vote nonsense.  Surely it would stand to reason there is no need to carry out these nonsensical proceedings now, either.  I'm guessing you're afraid of the Liberal Party losing the financial support of religious donors.

There must be better things upon which to spend this $122 million.  How about these for starters:

Housing and sheltering the homeless
Alleviating poverty
Domestic violence shelters
Legal aid funding
Mental health
Hospitals
Education
Teachers
Nurses

I suppose being unlikely to require any of these services, at least not publicly funded ones, you don't care too much, Turdball, what with your nest egg in the Cayman Islands.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  I don't care that you have money in the Caymans.  Good luck to you.  Wouldn't mind being in that position myself.  But for the love of the nation you purport to be leading, grow a pair, will you?  Stop pandering to the factions that are hiding behind religion, particularly when they are not being very Christian in their outlook, and stop backing these bullshit exercises such as the postal vote.  

Time for a segue - I deal with this issue in my third novel, 'Silver Studs and Sabre Teeth'.  Click on this link to read the first chapter.  Then, if you're of a mind, click on the links that will have you purchasing the novel!  Sorry for what appears to be tasteless self-promotion, but my name's not JK Rowling.  Here's the link: http://www.zeus-publications.com/silver_studs_and_sabre_teeth.htm

If you're having trouble with accessing link via this post, there are links on the home page to this blog.

Laters.

A-Post-Rophe Post, & Burston At The Seams

Be alarmed.  Be very, very alarmed.  Read this Facebook post by Senator Brian Burston of One Nation:

Right.  Taken the time to read it?  Absorbed its content?  Picked yourself up off the floor after you collapsed in shock and fright?  Applied an icepack to the bump you sustained  to your head in said collapse?  Located your missing socks which were knocked clean off?  

Now that those actions have been taken, take a deep breath.  It's true.  I'm just as worried as you are.  Yes, I know what it means, if this post is anything to go by.  And if it IS anything to go by, it means Government is being overrun by sub-literate arse-clowns! Senator, who taught you English?  He or she should be barred from the profession.  Or is it the case you were sitting up the back of the classroom squashing flies with your ruler, and didn't listen?

Anyway, I'm going to type this nice and slow for you.  When a noun is in possessive context, ie, 'owning' something, put an apostrophe before the 's' at the end.  DO NOT put an apostrophe in a plural noun before the 's', because that's a no-no.  But in the 'possessive', put an apostrophe.  What you're saying here is Labor 'owns' Husic, Aly et al.  Also the Greens 'own' Faruqi.  So you should have written 'Labor's' and 'Green's'.  The exception to this rule is on the possessive form of 'its'.  For example, 'The dog buried its bone in the yard'.  Apostrophes belong in possessive nouns (except 'its'), and contractions such as 'Ed Husic's a Muslim', instead of saying 'Ed Husic is a Muslim'.  

And another thing: your penultimate sentence.  I'm quite confident 'Muslims' and 'Govt' (can't you spell 'government'?) in this context are proper nouns, and should therefore be capitalised.  

Seriously, man, reading that post hurt my eyeballs.

Okay, now that I have that out of the way, I am going to address the question folks are asking, and that is: is it appropriate to ask a potential female prime minister whether she plans to have children.  This question was put to New Zealand Opposition leader Jacinda Ardern, who responded to the journalist the question was inappropriate.  I agree with her.  Well, put it this way: if a man has been elected to a high parliamentary position, and is in the possible running to lead the country, would he be asked whether he planned on procreating.  I'm guessing no, he would not be asked such an impertinent question.

Listen, peeps, it's (see what I did there, Burston?) not actually impossible for a woman to have a leadership role and have children.  Sure, some home help might be required, but it's not impossible.  The Queen popped out a couple of kids after she ascended the throne (I've left this a lower case 't' because I'm not sure if it's a proper noun in this context).  Lordy-me, what about Boudicca, Queen of the Celtic Iceni tribe?  She became the queen of the tribe following the death of her husband, whereupon she led an uprising against the occupying Roman empire.  She had daughters.  The fact that her uprising was unsuccessful is unfortunate, but I don't think it's a gender related thing.  Here's an artist's depiction of the long gone (60 or 61 AD) Queen of the Iceni:

She looks to have been a fiery ranga.  I like her. Maybe there's a kindred spirit?  Anyway, if this depiction is in any way accurate, she looks to have been the type of warrior leader with which one should not be messing.  I would put her file in the drawer marked 'Not To Be Fucked With'.

And whilst we are on the subject of female empowerment, Sofia Vergara (one of my girl-crushes) has posed nude in Women's Health magazine.  I haven't included any of those pictures of Sofia because I suspect they might be subject to the photographer's and/or magazine's copyright.  This matters not, because I am certain you can Google the images for yourself.  She is a woman I admire for her honesty, humour and warmth.  She is also a woman I kind of envy because, well, LOOK at her! My point is it's easy for Sofia Vergara to feel empowered and comfortable in her own forty-five year old body because, well, LOOK at her!  At the risk of bragging a little, I'm not too badly constructed for a woman of fifty-one.  However, I am not Sofia Vergara.  I wonder do some women find the concept of being comfortable in the body with which they are blessed a struggle when they're not Sofia Vergara.  After all, LOOK at her!