Sunday, 19 November 2017

The Good (Because It's Bad), The Bad (And It's Bad), And The Ugly (Because It's Pretty Bad)

I had planned to write about three topics and categorise them as The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.  But of the topics I have chosen, none are good; so a spanner has been chucked into my works.  Perhaps I can just re-phrase them slightly.  Here we go:

1. The Good (But Only Because It's So Hilariously Bad)
My travails on Twitter a few days ago had me chancing upon footage of Pauline Hanson decrying what she presumes to be a curriculum for sex education in schools. I'm going to see if I can post a link so you can have a listen and a good old guffaw like I did.  If you have hassles, go to my Twitter page. My handle is Bingells.

https://twitter.com/TheQTU/status/931305813897072640

She goes on in her usual shrewish and shrill manner, her voice as lachrymose as ever and capable of peeling open a sardine can.  But it's the combination of what she's saying, her indignant outrage, and that, that voice that kills me.  It is a horrible mixture of hilarious and ungodly to view a furious Pauline Hanson snarling the words: 'strap on a dildo'.  Then she squawks about teaching the kids to masturbate, but my giddy aunt, her pronunciation of 'masturbate' had me succumbing to another fit of the giggles.  Let's just say she watched a bit too much Captain Pugwash with the kids.  Giggle-fest aside, it also made me wonder when someone will slap a scold's bridle on the woman.

2. The Bad
Malcolm Young has died.  I'm very saddened for his family, given they lost his brother George only a few weeks ago.  Malcolm had been suffering from dementia, and it has taken him at the age of sixty-four.  It's funny to think of my childhood idols dying at sixty-four; my mother died at sixty-four.  Mr Bingells and I attended an AC/DC concert in 1996, and I remember them performing 'Dirty Deeds (Done Dirty Cheap)', and Malcolm on rhythm guitar, growling into the microphone: 'Dirty deeds and they're done dirt cheap/Dirty deeds and they're done dirt cheap...'.  From memory, he was wearing a dark blue singlet and jeans, his slightly straggly hair hanging down just past his shoulders.  No bullshit with Malcolm; just rock and roll.  Rock in Peace, Malcolm.  No more suffering for you.  If there's a Heaven, you're no doubt jamming with your bro George.

3. The Ugly
Check this out:


It appears to be an advertisement for a personal assistant to Salim Mehajer.  Notwithstanding no self-respecting secretary of sound mind would want to work for him, everything about this ad just made me want to (1) soothe my burning eyeballs with calamine lotion; (2) Cleanse my brain with Aqium to erase the unholy image; and (3) drink wine until totally blotto because everything I believe in, and hold dear and sacrosanct, has been compromised most foully.  

He is seeking a 'sophisticated personal assistant'. This is understandable because the secretary who is a ditzy dumb-arse is really only the fodder of corny television situation comedies.  But Jesus Christ on a pony galloping through a field of land mines, where to begin on the rest of it!  The crimes against grammar and spelling include:

1. A mix-up of 'then' and 'than'.  For future reference: 'then' is a sequence of events, and 'than' is a comparison of subjects.  Got that?  Easy to remember: the last two letters of 'then' are the first two letters of 'ensue', which is what happens in a sequence of events.

2. The word 'luck' is not a proper noun.  What's with the capital 'L'?

3. The word 'legitimacy' has been spelled apparently by pulling random Scrabble tiles out of the drawstring bag.  Seriously, mate; can you even spell your own name?

3. Termination will take 'pace'?  Huh? 

I was labouring under the misapprehension one of the worrying things about low literacy levels in adults is being unable to competently carry out tasks like preparing reports, or incident reports, and case notes - these things are becoming more and more of a requirement these days in what some would consider even the most basic of blue collar tasks.  This ad has made me consider the lugubrious situation that someone with the grammatical skills of a backward nine-year-old, or maybe a monkey at a typewriter, can become the deputy mayor of a Sydney suburb.  This ain't right (and before everyone jumps up and down, my use of the colloquially poor form of 'isn't' is my idea of irony).

Watched the 'Countdown' special episode tonight.  It focussed on 1984, and it was awash with so much putrid synth pop it made me question the fairness of life.

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