Today I saw a headline reading to the effect: 'Guy Sebastian's Message to Australians Affected by the Cricket Scandal'. Like Guy, I also have a message to Australians affected by the ball-tampering scandal in cricket. My message goes like this:
FUCKING GET OVER IT!!!!!!!!
Okay, that's concise and clear, I should hope.
I am sick with every fibre of my being of seeing these three gronks in my newsfeed, and sick of seeing them every time I turn on the television. They've fucked up royally, and are paying the price. From what I've heard, the price is actually on the heavy side penalty-wise where Cricket Australia's rules are concerned, but possibly they have an avenue of appeal. Don't get me wrong; I find cheating offensive and abhorrent. I'm also finding it difficult to feel much sympathy over these guys' actions, given the money they're paid for the grand privilege of whacking a cricket ball around. Can't bear cricket either. It's the most stultifying and dulling activity known to mankind. Or humankind if you're a Social Justice Warrior who wants to gender-neutralise every pronoun possible.
But seeing Smith give his tearful apology makes me worry for his mental health now. Yes, he did the wrong thing. But let him get on with his life, rather than bully him into a psych unit. Or worse.
As for the people criticising Warner for not having made a statement-slash-grovelling apology the very minute he stepped off the plane: wake up to yourselves! Some talking head on television this morning was going into meltdown about Warner's failure to speak when he stepped from the plane. This might ruffle the feathers a bit, but he doesn't HAVE to speak. Of course, it is good spin for him to give a press conference, but there is something else to consider. He had just stepped off a plane at midnight with his two small children in tow, so perhaps getting his young family home just might have taken precedence in his eyes.
Yes, their on-field actions are pretty disgraceful. Yes, they must be punished. But let them be punished and not hound everybody to the rats and back, okay? Nobody's died, and the amount of sanctimony and pious chest-pounding is starting to get just a tad disproportionate to the actual offence.
Forgive me if I'm not in a great mood, reader. Yes, I'm fed up with this cricketing bullshit, but I'm also in a bit of physical discomfort at the moment. Yesterday, I was doing some housework and moved the wrong way, and the next thing my back was keening at me. This has never happened to me before, and it was not fun. My husband - a veteran of back pain - assisted me to our bed and brought pain killers. I actually managed to nap a little, but was no better upon waking. I hobbled to the lounge room, and with regret cancelled a tutoring session I had organised with a student. To attempt to staunch the insidious spread of misplaced apostrophes, and to help pay my bills, I have taken up tutoring English. And yesterday, although I could still think and talk, I had serious doubts about driving to the student's house because my vehicle is manual. I'm really enjoying the tutoring and hated having to cancel.
So I sat on the lounge yesterday afternoon, whereupon another gronk shattered my tranquillity, insomuch as sitting on the lounge afraid to move can be tranquil. There was a knock at the door. I instructed my sixteen-year-old to see who was there. One cannot see the front door when one is seated on our lounge, so I had to rely upon my sense of hearing. My son found himself dealing with some door-to-door spruiker for Oxfam. My son is not shy of displaying his smartarse tendencies to his parents, but he is not sufficiently schooled in dealing with these pests. I ended up shouting from the lounge room that I was the lady of the house, but at that point in time unable to move and we had great disinterest in whatever it was he was trying to foist on us, so to just vacate our domicile. The following scene played out something like this:
Spruiker: So we can't interest you ma'am?
Me (yelling from lounge): NO! I CANNOT MOVE AT THE MOMENT, NOW JUST GO!
Spruiker: Sure, but promise me one thing, ma'am.
Me (wondering was the spruiker stupider that first thought): WHAT?
Spruiker: That you will stay beautiful.
Me: I HAVE NO CHOICE IN THE MATTER; IT'S MY NATURAL STATE OF BEING! NOW FUCK OFF!!!!
Honestly, people can't take a hint. I do not like shouting swear words in front of my kids, but I was in pain and to be honest, a tad truculent.
As well as tutoring yesterday, I had planned to further go through the edited manuscript of my upcoming novel Howling on A Concrete Moon. That didn't happen because I was lying on my bed. Another thing to contribute to my malaise.
I had been rostered to work this morning, and as a matter of prudence cancelled my shift. This means one of my team mates had to 'pick up the slack', and I felt awful about that, too. On the bright side, I am a bit better today, and the improvement is continuing. I will not turn a cartwheel to celebrate.
Right now, I'm feeling as though the only one who's had a worse Good Friday than the one I'm currently suffering might be Jesus Christ himself.
Thursday 29 March 2018
Wednesday 28 March 2018
Gronks, Everywhere Gronks
You read it here first: the world is being overtaken by gronks. They're everywhere. It's a veritable scene from the most hellish movie ever devised by George A Romero as the gronks run amok, dribble bullshit from their maws, steal the oxygen meant for sensible types like you and me, and then lick the windows.
First of all, Pauline Hanson has released a book titled In Her Own Words. Interesting title, given the work is - to my understanding - ghost written. But then this is no surprise given the woman is an inarticulate, shrewish schlub. This is not to say she should not have written a book, with or without the services of a ghost writer. She is entitled to have her say, whether or not you believe in what she says. Hell's teeth, I might even give the book a read myself, out of sheer curiosity and my innate fairness. What's bugging me is hype that a second print run has already been put in motion. It is likely she will become a best selling author, a title I have been sweating on and yearning for over many, many years. Aesop's fox has nothing on me at the moment. That lupine desirer of grapes can just skulk back off to his den. Not since the atrocious Fifty Shades of Grey has a book put me into a fugue of such rancour. I am being bested in sales by someone I consider to definitely lean toward gronkiness, and it vexes me greatly.
The publicity spewed forth by commercial free-to-air has truly approached the pinnacle of gronkiness. Who at Channel 9 thought this comparison was a good idea:
I cannot fathom that somebody actually put this meme to air. To the Channel 9 production people, and I will type this slowly: are you all fucking stupid? If the headline is true, then this is a good reason to not move to Queensland. How in the blue fuck can anybody seriously compare Pauline Hanson to a person who was educated, fought against apartheid, received a life imprisonment for treason only to be released and become the ruler of the country? I can't even. This is just offensive, even for tabloid television and blockheads.
Swimming along in the tide of gronks we have our cricketers Smith, Warner, and Bancroft. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. You must do. You cannot turn on a television without hearing some crap regarding their 'crime' of ball tampering. They've received punishments from the appropriate governing body, and if the punishments accord with the rules and regulations penalties, then I don't give a shit. But you three blokes are gronks, too. And as for you, Prime Minister, with your bombastic pleas that Cricket Australia 'act decisively and emphatically'? What pharmaceutical substance has you in thrall, and you are a hypocritical gronk (one of the more dangerous species of gronks) to say some entity should act 'decisively and emphatically', when you were at the helm of the greatest waste of $122 million dollars this country has ever seen because you were too wishy-washy to just push for the legislation of same sex marriage.
I'm saving my last gronk classification for the writers and bloggers who think they are hipster cool when making a point by just saying '..because [insert qualification here]'. An example of their lamentable prose would go something like: 'Adele doesn't have to listen to any body-shamers because KILLER RECORD SALES!' This is just an example I have snatched from the air. For the record, I believe Adele has a glorious voice, and she should not listen to anybody who body-shames her; rather, just revel in her talent and success because some people are just embittered twerps (which is no doubt how I come across in the first paragraph of this post). What annoys me about this modernistic use of 'because' is the syntactic placement relegates it to the role of preposition. Now read here, all you so-called cool hipster blogger types: 'because' is not a preposition; it is a subordinating conjunction. Cease and desist the insidious practice of using it as a preposition, because you will be forever cemented in true gronkdom.
First of all, Pauline Hanson has released a book titled In Her Own Words. Interesting title, given the work is - to my understanding - ghost written. But then this is no surprise given the woman is an inarticulate, shrewish schlub. This is not to say she should not have written a book, with or without the services of a ghost writer. She is entitled to have her say, whether or not you believe in what she says. Hell's teeth, I might even give the book a read myself, out of sheer curiosity and my innate fairness. What's bugging me is hype that a second print run has already been put in motion. It is likely she will become a best selling author, a title I have been sweating on and yearning for over many, many years. Aesop's fox has nothing on me at the moment. That lupine desirer of grapes can just skulk back off to his den. Not since the atrocious Fifty Shades of Grey has a book put me into a fugue of such rancour. I am being bested in sales by someone I consider to definitely lean toward gronkiness, and it vexes me greatly.
The publicity spewed forth by commercial free-to-air has truly approached the pinnacle of gronkiness. Who at Channel 9 thought this comparison was a good idea:
Swimming along in the tide of gronks we have our cricketers Smith, Warner, and Bancroft. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. You must do. You cannot turn on a television without hearing some crap regarding their 'crime' of ball tampering. They've received punishments from the appropriate governing body, and if the punishments accord with the rules and regulations penalties, then I don't give a shit. But you three blokes are gronks, too. And as for you, Prime Minister, with your bombastic pleas that Cricket Australia 'act decisively and emphatically'? What pharmaceutical substance has you in thrall, and you are a hypocritical gronk (one of the more dangerous species of gronks) to say some entity should act 'decisively and emphatically', when you were at the helm of the greatest waste of $122 million dollars this country has ever seen because you were too wishy-washy to just push for the legislation of same sex marriage.
I'm saving my last gronk classification for the writers and bloggers who think they are hipster cool when making a point by just saying '..because [insert qualification here]'. An example of their lamentable prose would go something like: 'Adele doesn't have to listen to any body-shamers because KILLER RECORD SALES!' This is just an example I have snatched from the air. For the record, I believe Adele has a glorious voice, and she should not listen to anybody who body-shames her; rather, just revel in her talent and success because some people are just embittered twerps (which is no doubt how I come across in the first paragraph of this post). What annoys me about this modernistic use of 'because' is the syntactic placement relegates it to the role of preposition. Now read here, all you so-called cool hipster blogger types: 'because' is not a preposition; it is a subordinating conjunction. Cease and desist the insidious practice of using it as a preposition, because you will be forever cemented in true gronkdom.
Thursday 22 March 2018
Don't Mention The War!
When I'm compiling my list of things I Must Not Do, one of the most important entries is: Assume to understand and be qualified to comment upon the machinations of a law in another country. This is an adage that commands strict adherence, wouldn't you agree?
But dang it all to heck, I'm going to make a comment, anyway. Some Scottish comedian is facing gaol time over a 'grossly offensive' joke. When I heard about this, I scratched my head a little. This case is in the UK, but as far as I can tell, our laws here are very similar to those in Old Blighty, as is our legal system. I am aware it is very difficult in New South Wales to successfully prosecute a charge of offensive conduct because the Act doesn't really specify what constitutes offensive conduct. Insofar as offensive language is concerned, this is often subject to the 'reasonable man' test, being would the reasonable man (who is just of normal street smarts and intelligence, and sans skin like wet tissue paper) be offended by the language, taking into account all circumstances (such as dropping an anvil on the foot)?
As it happens, the conviction with which he (he goes by the handle Count Dankula, by the way) has been slapped relates not to offensive language or conduct, but hate crimes. Hate crimes aren't a joke. But what this guy has done is taught his girlfriend's pug puppy to raise its paw, similar to the old Nazi salute, as the guy makes a comment along the lines of 'Seig Heil'. (Must be some kind of dog-whisperer; I'm having trouble training my recalcitrant mutt to go outside for his tinkle when it's raining). What's earned him the conviction is that he posted the footage on You Tube. Is being stupid with the pug really a hate crime? I don't doubt there are people who would consider this very offensive. But was it the guy's intention to incite hatred against the Jewish people, and to downplay and mock the Holocaust? I cannot answer this question realistically, because it would fly in the face of my adage given I don't know the law there, nor was I present at the court hearing, nor do I know the guy personally.
It did get me wondering about that classic Fawlty Towers episode wherein Basil sustained a head injury whilst the hotel was accommodating a family from Germany, and his catchcry was: 'Don't mention the war!' He then placed his finger below his nose in an approximation of Hitler's moustache, and goose-stepped around the restaurant. This could be considered 'grossly offensive' when not taken in context, notwithstanding the joke being directed toward Germans. The thing is, nobody these days knows how to contextualise, because everybody's too busy losing their shit and trying to have things banned.
I will be interested to know if Count Dankula appeals, and whether his appeal is successful; particularly on a point of law. This Count Dankula offends me in that he wears those pie-plate things in his ear lobes, but I'm not going to seek he be imprisoned for this, and even though sensitivities are getting weaker and Big Brother is growing stronger on a daily basis, I'm sure he can't be imprisoned for those lame-arse lug accoutrements.
This whole thing makes me segue to another thought: why is it necessary for some people to upload EVERY bloody thing they do onto social media? He reckons he only taught the pup that trick to annoy his girlfriend, and the You Tube footage was not intended for everybody to see. Mate, you're younger than I am, and therefore I'm pretty sure you know once something's on a social media platform like You Tube, it's pretty much open slather. Teach whatever silly tricks you want to teach to the pup, but if you put it on the 'Net, expect some backlash if there is ANY hint of racism or anti-Semitism there.
But dang it all to heck, I'm going to make a comment, anyway. Some Scottish comedian is facing gaol time over a 'grossly offensive' joke. When I heard about this, I scratched my head a little. This case is in the UK, but as far as I can tell, our laws here are very similar to those in Old Blighty, as is our legal system. I am aware it is very difficult in New South Wales to successfully prosecute a charge of offensive conduct because the Act doesn't really specify what constitutes offensive conduct. Insofar as offensive language is concerned, this is often subject to the 'reasonable man' test, being would the reasonable man (who is just of normal street smarts and intelligence, and sans skin like wet tissue paper) be offended by the language, taking into account all circumstances (such as dropping an anvil on the foot)?
As it happens, the conviction with which he (he goes by the handle Count Dankula, by the way) has been slapped relates not to offensive language or conduct, but hate crimes. Hate crimes aren't a joke. But what this guy has done is taught his girlfriend's pug puppy to raise its paw, similar to the old Nazi salute, as the guy makes a comment along the lines of 'Seig Heil'. (Must be some kind of dog-whisperer; I'm having trouble training my recalcitrant mutt to go outside for his tinkle when it's raining). What's earned him the conviction is that he posted the footage on You Tube. Is being stupid with the pug really a hate crime? I don't doubt there are people who would consider this very offensive. But was it the guy's intention to incite hatred against the Jewish people, and to downplay and mock the Holocaust? I cannot answer this question realistically, because it would fly in the face of my adage given I don't know the law there, nor was I present at the court hearing, nor do I know the guy personally.
It did get me wondering about that classic Fawlty Towers episode wherein Basil sustained a head injury whilst the hotel was accommodating a family from Germany, and his catchcry was: 'Don't mention the war!' He then placed his finger below his nose in an approximation of Hitler's moustache, and goose-stepped around the restaurant. This could be considered 'grossly offensive' when not taken in context, notwithstanding the joke being directed toward Germans. The thing is, nobody these days knows how to contextualise, because everybody's too busy losing their shit and trying to have things banned.
I will be interested to know if Count Dankula appeals, and whether his appeal is successful; particularly on a point of law. This Count Dankula offends me in that he wears those pie-plate things in his ear lobes, but I'm not going to seek he be imprisoned for this, and even though sensitivities are getting weaker and Big Brother is growing stronger on a daily basis, I'm sure he can't be imprisoned for those lame-arse lug accoutrements.
This whole thing makes me segue to another thought: why is it necessary for some people to upload EVERY bloody thing they do onto social media? He reckons he only taught the pup that trick to annoy his girlfriend, and the You Tube footage was not intended for everybody to see. Mate, you're younger than I am, and therefore I'm pretty sure you know once something's on a social media platform like You Tube, it's pretty much open slather. Teach whatever silly tricks you want to teach to the pup, but if you put it on the 'Net, expect some backlash if there is ANY hint of racism or anti-Semitism there.
Sunday 18 March 2018
My Ramblings for Today
Is anybody else out there absolutely adoring that new series on the ABC of a Friday night: Upstart Crow? It's a comedic take on the life and works of William Shakespeare, and it's from the team behind Blackadder (another of my all-time favourites). Being something of a Word Nerd, I am in total rapture at the script of this show. Some of it is a little bit base, but if you're going to be base, then do it in the style of the Elizabethan. Let me put it this way, from now on I will think of blowing my nose as 'snotting and be-grollying the bogie-rag'. The episodes loosely work in to Will's day to day life what are plots of Shakespearean plays. The other night his friend Kit Marlowe introduced him to an exotic Moorish prince named Otello, and some nark tried to cause trouble by having Will use an identical handkerchief to that of Otello's love interest. So, if you know some Shakespeare, you will definitely reconcile this with the plot of play about the insecure Moor, and it was also an opportune moment for the script writers to use the phrase 'snotting and be-grollying the bogie-rag'. Actually, if I'm going to be pedantic, a phrase might just be 'be-grollying the bogie-rag', and the rest of my quoted piece a dependant clause. Or is the phrase merely 'snotting and be-grollying'? Interesting.
It's been a busy week, if not a particularly interesting one. I have finally - FINALLY! - resumed going through the edited manuscript of the upcoming Howling on a Concrete Moon. Soon I will have to approve cover art, sign off to print, and launch the book. That will be your cue to purchase said book, should you so desire. Forgive what appears to be gauche self-promotion, but my name's not JK Rowling.
My mood has been one of severe fractiousness lately. Possibly because I have been very busy with work, and the heat at the moment is freakish for this time of year. Hey, Autumn? We're halfway though March already, so you can make your presence felt. As well as work, I am tutoring school kids in English after school. This I am enjoying, and am quite excited about. If I can prevent just one misplaced apostrophe appearing in a future business sign, then this is a good thing.
I guess it doesn't matter that I'm busy because besides Upstart Crow (and repeats of that awesome Nineties satire Frontline), there is not much on free-to-air. Every time I get a chance to turn on the television, it appears to be a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond. Not everybody loves Raymond. I, for one, seriously loathe the unfunny cockwomble. Aside from the titular character, the most repulsive character on the show is not even in most episodes: it's Peter, Amy's brother. In case you're wondering why I am so au fait with the names of characters in a show I obviously detest, I will point out I had to look online to find that character's name. He's repulsive because he decried Amy's choice of beau to their parents because her beau (Robert) was the first man she with whom she had engaged in intercourse. I remember him bawling like a bull with it's balls being slammed: 'Her VIRGINITY, Ma!' Yes, I know this is a fictional show (and thank fuck for that), but does anybody else find his refusal to let his thirty-something sister have agency over her own body a touch disturbing? Honestly, this show must have the creepiest families ever. You can't call the Munsters or the Addams family creepy because they're simply not; they're loving and respectful. Nope, this show is full of creeps, and always seems to be on when I get a chance to flick on the teev.
I didn't do much celebrating of St Patrick's Day yesterday, save to look up and listen to a poignant rendition of The Town I Loved so Well. So many happy memories of family get togethers, when we'd sing that. My late aunt would conduct. And by conduct, I mean robustly wave her arms and sway her whole body. The woman could guide in a landing plane through pea soup fog. Oh, and a cue for my favourite St Patrick joke - Q: What did St Patrick say as he was driving the snakes from Ireland?
A: You boys all right in the back there?
It's been a busy week, if not a particularly interesting one. I have finally - FINALLY! - resumed going through the edited manuscript of the upcoming Howling on a Concrete Moon. Soon I will have to approve cover art, sign off to print, and launch the book. That will be your cue to purchase said book, should you so desire. Forgive what appears to be gauche self-promotion, but my name's not JK Rowling.
My mood has been one of severe fractiousness lately. Possibly because I have been very busy with work, and the heat at the moment is freakish for this time of year. Hey, Autumn? We're halfway though March already, so you can make your presence felt. As well as work, I am tutoring school kids in English after school. This I am enjoying, and am quite excited about. If I can prevent just one misplaced apostrophe appearing in a future business sign, then this is a good thing.
I guess it doesn't matter that I'm busy because besides Upstart Crow (and repeats of that awesome Nineties satire Frontline), there is not much on free-to-air. Every time I get a chance to turn on the television, it appears to be a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond. Not everybody loves Raymond. I, for one, seriously loathe the unfunny cockwomble. Aside from the titular character, the most repulsive character on the show is not even in most episodes: it's Peter, Amy's brother. In case you're wondering why I am so au fait with the names of characters in a show I obviously detest, I will point out I had to look online to find that character's name. He's repulsive because he decried Amy's choice of beau to their parents because her beau (Robert) was the first man she with whom she had engaged in intercourse. I remember him bawling like a bull with it's balls being slammed: 'Her VIRGINITY, Ma!' Yes, I know this is a fictional show (and thank fuck for that), but does anybody else find his refusal to let his thirty-something sister have agency over her own body a touch disturbing? Honestly, this show must have the creepiest families ever. You can't call the Munsters or the Addams family creepy because they're simply not; they're loving and respectful. Nope, this show is full of creeps, and always seems to be on when I get a chance to flick on the teev.
I didn't do much celebrating of St Patrick's Day yesterday, save to look up and listen to a poignant rendition of The Town I Loved so Well. So many happy memories of family get togethers, when we'd sing that. My late aunt would conduct. And by conduct, I mean robustly wave her arms and sway her whole body. The woman could guide in a landing plane through pea soup fog. Oh, and a cue for my favourite St Patrick joke - Q: What did St Patrick say as he was driving the snakes from Ireland?
A: You boys all right in the back there?
Sunday 11 March 2018
The Word Police Strike Again
There are things of which I am afear'd. Something happening to one of my children. Frogs. People discovering I'm actually a bit of an arsehole. But just lately, one of my greatest concerns is people will lose the ability to contextualise. When you don't know how to contextualise, you don't know not to get offended by everything you see or hear. This usually applies to works of art. I have lately written about the place of learning in Minnesota that thought it a good idea to be racially sensitive and progressive by banning the texts To Kill a Mockingbird and Huckleberry Finn. As a writer, I follow a few pages wherein other authors discuss the viability and appropriateness of using a sensitivity reader to ensure your passage does not offend the ethnic group about which you happen to be writing. I'm not sure I actually give a steaming dung ball whether or not I offend somebody with what I write. As long as I haven't written anything inaccurate, either in terms of historical fact or possibilities, then I'm happy.
You see, when you write, there is this fun little thing you have to do in order to make your story believable, and that is RESEARCH. And as I mentioned, if I have the likelihood, scenarios, and characterisations believable, then that's all that matters. I have actually read comments stating only Jewish writers should write Jewish characters, and all that guff. Hey, listen: I have characters who have been charged with crimes. I myself have NEVER been charged with a crime, but thanks to a previous career as a criminal law paralegal, I do know many people who have - ergo, I can convincingly write a scene wherein a character is arrested, and goes through due process. And I have. Check out some of my books.
Also, I have a friend who writes space travelling science fiction. She's done some overseas travel, but I'm pretty sure she's never left the solar system.
But back to the loss of contextualisation and censorship. Yesterday, to my annoyance, I actually spent time engaging in an online quarrel with some she-flog SJW who issued an edict over the Twittersphere that people not use the word 'gypsy'. Apparently, it's an offensive word. Shit, who knew? I didn't. The etymology of the word is a flawed premise: it's from gipcyan or Egyptian, because people erroneously believed these nomadic Romany people to be from Egypt. Anyway, it's a geographic boo-boo, kind of like how Native Americans used to be called Indians. The problem, according to the SWJ, is the word is derogative to the Romany. She likened it to the N-word. Come to think of it, she's probably one of those uptight constipated types who'd call for the banning of Huckleberry Finn. I actually don't know if any Romany people find it offensive. Some possibly do. Some possibly don't give a fart in the high wind about the word. Unlike this SJW, I don't presume to speak for a sector of the world's population of which I do not form a part.
She said people were not to say the word out loud. If it appears in song lyrics, we are not to sing along. She had already lost me at the several successive - and needless - exclamation marks, as well as the needless use of the word 'literally' (what, as opposed to metaphorically not singing along, you fathead? Or maybe that should be 'Metaphorically!!!'). But when someone starts trying to tell me what I cannot do in the privacy of my own home, or car, then this is when I start to feel a touch truculent. I do wish there was a sarcasm font on the keyboard at times, but anyway, I responded along the lines of: 'Hey, thanks for the advice, but if I am in my own home and want to belt out some old Cher songs, then I'm going to. 'I was born in the wagon of a traveling show...' Sing along, readers; we all know the words!
Can people no longer listen to the Fleetwood Mac tune Gypsy, because it means they're a bunch of racially insensitive buffoons and chumps?
Are theatre companies no longer to stage the musical telling of the life and times of Rose Louise Hovick, aka, burlesque dancer Gypsy Rose Lee? Gee, I hope all those actresses clearing their throats getting ready to belt out Let Me Entertain You at the auditions for Gypsy aren't too disappointed.
Whoever came up with this pea-brained notion, there must surely be better ways to assist people who are feeling marginalised than trying to ban works and songs, and telling people what they can and cannot sing along to. Like I said, she lost me at the pointless use of 'literally', and the superfluous multitude of exclamation marks.
Oh well, just off to sing some Cher now.
You see, when you write, there is this fun little thing you have to do in order to make your story believable, and that is RESEARCH. And as I mentioned, if I have the likelihood, scenarios, and characterisations believable, then that's all that matters. I have actually read comments stating only Jewish writers should write Jewish characters, and all that guff. Hey, listen: I have characters who have been charged with crimes. I myself have NEVER been charged with a crime, but thanks to a previous career as a criminal law paralegal, I do know many people who have - ergo, I can convincingly write a scene wherein a character is arrested, and goes through due process. And I have. Check out some of my books.
Also, I have a friend who writes space travelling science fiction. She's done some overseas travel, but I'm pretty sure she's never left the solar system.
But back to the loss of contextualisation and censorship. Yesterday, to my annoyance, I actually spent time engaging in an online quarrel with some she-flog SJW who issued an edict over the Twittersphere that people not use the word 'gypsy'. Apparently, it's an offensive word. Shit, who knew? I didn't. The etymology of the word is a flawed premise: it's from gipcyan or Egyptian, because people erroneously believed these nomadic Romany people to be from Egypt. Anyway, it's a geographic boo-boo, kind of like how Native Americans used to be called Indians. The problem, according to the SWJ, is the word is derogative to the Romany. She likened it to the N-word. Come to think of it, she's probably one of those uptight constipated types who'd call for the banning of Huckleberry Finn. I actually don't know if any Romany people find it offensive. Some possibly do. Some possibly don't give a fart in the high wind about the word. Unlike this SJW, I don't presume to speak for a sector of the world's population of which I do not form a part.
She said people were not to say the word out loud. If it appears in song lyrics, we are not to sing along. She had already lost me at the several successive - and needless - exclamation marks, as well as the needless use of the word 'literally' (what, as opposed to metaphorically not singing along, you fathead? Or maybe that should be 'Metaphorically!!!'). But when someone starts trying to tell me what I cannot do in the privacy of my own home, or car, then this is when I start to feel a touch truculent. I do wish there was a sarcasm font on the keyboard at times, but anyway, I responded along the lines of: 'Hey, thanks for the advice, but if I am in my own home and want to belt out some old Cher songs, then I'm going to. 'I was born in the wagon of a traveling show...' Sing along, readers; we all know the words!
Can people no longer listen to the Fleetwood Mac tune Gypsy, because it means they're a bunch of racially insensitive buffoons and chumps?
Are theatre companies no longer to stage the musical telling of the life and times of Rose Louise Hovick, aka, burlesque dancer Gypsy Rose Lee? Gee, I hope all those actresses clearing their throats getting ready to belt out Let Me Entertain You at the auditions for Gypsy aren't too disappointed.
Whoever came up with this pea-brained notion, there must surely be better ways to assist people who are feeling marginalised than trying to ban works and songs, and telling people what they can and cannot sing along to. Like I said, she lost me at the pointless use of 'literally', and the superfluous multitude of exclamation marks.
Oh well, just off to sing some Cher now.
Wednesday 7 March 2018
FML Moments & Vale Jeff St John
I just had a look at my last posting, and colour me flabbergasted, it's been almost a week since I last posted! This is unheard of for someone who is a prolific blogger. Have lots of things been happening that have caused me to keep away from the computer? I will admit I've been pretty busy with work, and the usual vicissitudes of life that are part and parcel of being a parent.
I'm trying to think what's been happening since I last posted that's of interest. Well, I did get called a Lefty Greenie Cunt on social media, and was informed that I am the type who makes people like my insulter sick. Whilst not one of those stirrers whose day is not complete until he/she has been insulted by being compared to the genital organs that help define my gender, it did give me something of a chuckle. Just for the yucks, I've had another look at the comment, and he's edited it somewhat. Here 'tis:
"Simone Bailey shut up you bleeding heart lefty.
He caused the death of an innocent young person, AND then left the scene. He is a grub who should be in jail, not roaming the streets.
And of course you are a trainee lawyer! It’s Morons like you that would love to see every criminal roaming the streets. People like you are the reason law and order is out of control especially in Victoria. People like you make me sick in the stomach."
I'm trying to think what's been happening since I last posted that's of interest. Well, I did get called a Lefty Greenie Cunt on social media, and was informed that I am the type who makes people like my insulter sick. Whilst not one of those stirrers whose day is not complete until he/she has been insulted by being compared to the genital organs that help define my gender, it did give me something of a chuckle. Just for the yucks, I've had another look at the comment, and he's edited it somewhat. Here 'tis:
"Simone Bailey shut up you bleeding heart lefty.
He caused the death of an innocent young person, AND then left the scene. He is a grub who should be in jail, not roaming the streets.
And of course you are a trainee lawyer! It’s Morons like you that would love to see every criminal roaming the streets. People like you are the reason law and order is out of control especially in Victoria. People like you make me sick in the stomach."
As you can tell, he's removed the C-word, along with any assumption of alliance with The Greens (which for the record I am not). Here's my reply, unexpurgated save for the blanking out of the poor lamb's name:
"I'm not feeling the love. Is something wrong? There must be, otherwise why would you erupt like a toxic volcano, and spew forth such vitriolic venom? I pointed out some of the machinations of the legal system. I had hoped it would explain why the judiciary arrive at the decisions they do. They have to work in accordance with the law as it is written, and how it pertains to the individual case before them. This country operates by rule of law. Laws are devised by parliament. We follow rule of law, not blathering bullshit of populist political ex-shock jocks. Incidentally, your leader also had his time as a defendant and didn't cop to severe a sentence.
Whether or not everyone disagrees with me is of little consequence, but it's annoying that they won't listen to reason. However, I will state my opinion - which unlike yours is actually informed - in a respectful manner. You, on the other hand, responded with vicious name calling. This actually says more about you than it does me. Perhaps abusing someone from behind your keyboard has the same effect as Viagra, and saves you the trip to the chemist. I don't know if you are employed, but you might want to hope your employer doesn't see what you wrote.
So I make you sick to the stomach? Have some Eno and lie down still you feel better, you poor petal."
Whether or not everyone disagrees with me is of little consequence, but it's annoying that they won't listen to reason. However, I will state my opinion - which unlike yours is actually informed - in a respectful manner. You, on the other hand, responded with vicious name calling. This actually says more about you than it does me. Perhaps abusing someone from behind your keyboard has the same effect as Viagra, and saves you the trip to the chemist. I don't know if you are employed, but you might want to hope your employer doesn't see what you wrote.
So I make you sick to the stomach? Have some Eno and lie down still you feel better, you poor petal."
It is a bit sad when the highlight of your week is asinine online abuse, isn't it? I guess this might be the highlight because the rest of the week has been stuffed to the max with lowlights. Anything that could go awry has done so, particularly last Tuesday. I was rostered to carry out a social support service for an elderly lady in a neighbouring town. We decided we would go for a coffee. We entered a rather pleasant looking establishment, and to my abject horror I spotted one of my former high school teachers. Normally I would not be bothered to see a relic from my past, but not this time. This is a teacher whom I would swim across a torrential river of shit to avoid. I had to keep looking out the window, hoping the hag wouldn't see my face. One can only feign so much interest in what is happening in the street outside when one is having coffee.
The lady told me she needed to go to the supermarket. We returned to the car and drove to the supermarket. Jesus Christ jumping up and down on a pogo stick fitted with an outboard motor and fluffy dice flying in the breeze, that damned teacher was there, too! This time I had to feign interest in the specials bin near the checkout. All I could think was: Fuck my life, and please don't let the hag see me!
It seemed the gods were smiling, because I got away without her noticing me. The gods were not smiling. They were smirking. They were playing some fucked up game of cat-and-mouse. After the service had been completed, and whilst I was driving home - and I will take the opportunity to point out this particular road is a veritable pretzel dish of narrow driving space, hairpin bends, and twists - the vehicle in which I was travelling blew a tyre! I pulled over, and thankfully a good Samaritan was travelling behind me, and rendered assistance. I was very, very grateful. I hate coming across as a damsel in distress, and told my rescuer as much, but emphasised my gratitude. The rescuer, a knockabout bloke approximately my age, said, 'No worries! I changed me first tyre at seven!' I informed him I wrote my first book at seven (to date unpublished, but I don't know if anyone cares about my late father's horse on a rescue mission), but that was doing me no good right there and then!
So I eventually got home, without succumbing to the tears that had threatened that afternoon. I assured myself it could get no worse. It did. I checked my Facebook page to learn Jeff St John, Aussie rock legend, passed away. I have seen nothing in the news about this. Why not? Not only did he have a magnificent singing voice, which he used to great effect in hits such as Teach Me How To Fly and Big Time Operator, he was a great ambassador for people with disability. He would do some rockin' wheelies in that wheelchair of his when performing. Check this link to him speaking at the Northcott School for the Disabled in the Eighties, particularly when he starts to sing and the kids get up and dance. It's a throat- lumper for sure:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hb-PaRwieh0
Anyway, I'm going to get some groceries and start the fourth and hopefully final edit of the manuscript for my upcoming novel Howling on A Concrete Moon. It's different to my other books, both in style and tone. Watch this space for the release date, and knock yourselves out buying or downloading copies. Please. My kids won't stop eating.
Vale, Jeff St John. You don't need that wheelchair now, not that it ever held you back in the first place.
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