Our Political Climate - We Definitely Need Climate Change!

Shit, I can't wait until the election is over. I just don't want to deal with the dross in the news anymore. Every day I think the dismal quality of politicians we have here reaches its nadir, but then a new day dawns with some fresh hell that is another sign of the political fuckwittery we have in this country.

The news that's had everyone sicking up their breakfast today is that One Nation's Steve Dickson has resigned after being filmed in a strip club. I actually don't care that he went to such an establishment. I care that he was willing to compromise our safety by sucking off the NRA. Why didn't he resign after that? So anyway, he's gone to a strip club. In theory, I think: 'Woop-de-doo, who cares?' But isn't he one of those pious Holy Joe types who espouses family values and passes himself off as a conservative type? Yeah, I don't care if a pollie goes to a strip club - it's an infantile form of entertainment, but so what? -  just don't be a hypocrite about it.

More irritating than Dickson's surface hypocrisy is the language and terminology he used whilst there. Stuff like: 'I think white women fuck a whole lot better; they know what they're doing. Asians don't', and 'I've had more Asian than I know what to do with.' Hey, Steve, now that  you're out of politics, how does a career writing messages for Hallmark sound?  Oh, and he said something derogatory about the figure of one of the dancers. Steve, look in a mirror. Did you see the image of Johnny Depp? No? Well, shut the fuck up; you're in no position to criticise.

The best bit was this tweet he posted upon tendering his resignation. Check the typo:

Uh, yeah.

In the meantime, La Hanson has given an interview in which she portrays a meltdown that would set of the warning siren in a nuclear plant. In that awful, adenoidal, lachrymose voice she mewled, 'People are hoping and praying that I'm going to be the voice for them.' Pauline, you have a voice like a cat sucking helium on a bandsaw; I don't want you to be the voice for me.

That fat scofflaw Clive Palmer has been boasting of his practically immeasurable wealth. Hey, Fat-Stuff: if you're that damned wealthy how about paying those employees of Queensland Nickel you ripped off? In the meantime, he's metaphorically dancing with that happy-clapping slogan bogan Scott Morrison.  Go away, the pair of you!

On the happier side, today I got my makeup and author photo done for the upcoming Howling on a Concrete Moon. A friend, who's a whiz with the war paint, did the honours. I've emailed a picture, along with the back cover blurb to the publishers. Now, I'm waiting to see samples of cover art for approval.

Life is hard at times, but sometimes, it's pretty fine.