Wiggles & Giggles, Plus More Palpable Jackassery from Politicians

 When I was in my early twenties, my cousin and I went to (I think) Sydney Cove Tavern and watched the Cockroaches. No offence, dudes, but you guys weren't really my cup of tea. Having typed that, I'm sure the former members of the band are unperturbed a woman they've never met didn't really get into their music. 

Unless you've been living on Mars (in which case, welcome back and I'm glad you didn't burn up on re-entry), you'd be aware the Cockroaches kind of morphed into the Wiggles. Like with their previous incarnation, I attended a Wiggles concert, this time in my capacity as a parent, and did not have a good time because I had to drag my then three-year-old and carry my then four-month-old up to the nosebleed seats, and clamber and stumble along a row of people, mumbling: 'Excuse me, excuse me, pardon me, ooops sorry...', clobbering people with a nappy bag in my wake. And the minute we took our seats, my oldest kid said, 'Mummy, I want to do a wee!' And when we had resumed our seats, clobbering the same hapless patrons with my nappy bag as before, the kid said he wanted the toilet again. He did absolutely nothing, and was told in no uncertain terms to not ask for the toilet unless he genuinely needed it because Mummy had absolutely no intention of spending the entire show climbing up and down the damn stairs. And when we had resumed our seats, my baby filled his nappy. Ah, happy memories of parenthood. I must admit, I am having a bit of a chuckle remembering that day. It has taken a long time, given my oldest child is now twenty and the youngest seventeen, but I can actually laugh a bit about it now. 

As with many other parents, the Wiggles were a quasi-babysitter for me when I would be preparing dinner or bathing the baby. They're an institution. 

Well, what's been in the news lately is the Wiggles have morphed into a different lineup. They now have eight members instead of four, and are considerably more gender and culturally diverse than the original lineup of four men. I have always been one who dislikes art being altered for the sake of political correctness, but I don't see these changes as bowing to the 'woke' crowd. Nay, it is a reflection of evolving society and a reflection that we are not all cis-het Anglos. I applaud Anthony Field and the others on making this change, which acknowledges diversity and inclusivity.

But the changes have not pleased everybody. Oh no. There are some who having taken great umbrage at this new lineup. These people probably also lost their shit when Emma became the first female in the group because the Wiggles are guiiiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyyyys! Everyone knows that!

Senator Matt Canavan (the one with the coal-smeared face and prop hard hat in his Twitter profile pic) has been critical of their decision, and warned them that if they 'go woke', they 'go broke'. Um, given their reputation and current net worth, I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen, Matt. Oh, and wash your face - you look like a Dickensian orphan who has to clean chimneys, except not cherubic - just plain shitty. 

However, the politician who wins the award for Abject Jackassery is Lyle Shelton. He's started a petition, to be presented to Anthony Field, requesting they stop what they're doing, which according to Lyle is - I shit  you not - 'indoctrinating kids into harmful LGBTIQA+ ideology'. Lyle, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but WHAT THE FUCK DRUGS ARE YOU ON? Oh, I get it. It's because of the new character that's a nonbinary unicorn, isn't it? Did you miss the part about it being a UNICORN? I haven't researched unicorns, so I don't know if they're meant to be binary, nonbinary, hermaphroditic, asexual, cis-gendered, straight, gay, or Nickelback fan; but they don't exist, so why worry about who, what, or how they're interested in shagging? Tell you what, I would like to be a fly on the wall when Anthony Field receives that petition. I think it's more likely that he will roll about on the floor laughing than say, 'Oh, no! We're poisoning the children with our wild counter-culture ideology. How could we have not consulted Lyle Shelton before instigating these cockamamie and crackpot notions? Sorry, newbies, you're going to have to register for Jobseeker and that includes the NIDA graduate in the nonbinary unicorn costume!' 

Did anybody else see the recent footage of Anthony wearing nose plugs and singing to a Covid patient? The patient was a twenty-two year old woman with Down's Syndrome who wouldn't keep her nose plugs in place. She was also a humongous Wiggles fan, so one of the nurses contacted the Wiggles to see if something could be done. And something WAS done. Anthony played a song with lyrics explaining the importance of her keeping the nose plugs in place, and Anthony wore some to show her they wouldn't hurt her. This put a tear in my eye. Nurses are awesome, too. 

You know what's NOT awesome? Stupidity and pettiness propagated by dickwad politicians like Charcoal-Cheeks Canavan and Lyle. There was a trending hashtag some time ago: #EatShitLyle. I refrained from putting that in my tweets, and will still refrain from saying it. I might say this instead: Lyle, attempt your own impregnation as you go away. 

Viva the new Wiggles!

Mixed Bag: Walker, Texas Ranger; Chimney Sweeps; and Rodriguez

 Some things are a puzzle. I was, um, puzzling over them today. I puzzle over things at random times, but usually when they are brought to my notice. Here are some of them:

1. The appeal of Walker, Texas Ranger. Don't get me wrong; Chuck is adequate in this role, but the whole premises just seems like gung-ho bulldust. I was reminded of it yesterday when I was at an old lady's house. It was on the television and there was the pretty much obligatory scene with Walker leaping in, hands chopping and feet kicking; and taking out three bad guys, a fence, and the buffet table in a single one-minute session. The lady said to me, 'You'd think his feet would get sore, wouldn't you?' Maybe. But I tell you this: the ears get sore listening to that cringe-worthy patriotic embarrassment of a theme song. Why did they let Norris sing it? Was everybody scared of Chuck opening a can of whoop-ass on them if they told him he happens to carry a tune like a skateboard carries a hippopotamus?

2. What was going through the mind of the numbskull who drove from Sydney to Byron Bay to look at real estate. Seriously, what twatwaffle does this when his wife is in hospital with Covid? What ails some people, aside from a serious dearth of reasoning ability? I'm just pissed off. My town's in lockdown and I don't know if we will come out tomorrow, which has so far been the original plan. My town is not near Byron Bay, but it's the principle that's grinding my gears. If you're reading this, you clown: You (*clap*) are (*clap) an ARSEHOLE (*jazz hands*).

3. Was Senator Matt Canavan's morphing from a human being (kind of!) to a completely soulless, heartless dickwad a gradual process or a sudden and startling total transmogrification, complete with fireworks and a mariachi band. His profile photograph with the coal-smeared countenance is beyond wanky (who does he think he's kidding?), but he appears to care more about money than he does human lives. I've copied this text from one of his recent tweets:

We don't all drive Volvos and we don't put a hospital in every country town even though those decisions would save lives.

Is there something wrong with saving lives? I'd rather spend some tax dollars on saving people. I'd like to look in the mirror and know I'd done something to help people, instead of looking to artfully apply soot like an actor playing a Dickensian chimney sweep. 

4. Why I do certain things. The thing in question is waste my time explaining to someone that the word 'professor is both a common noun and a proper noun, depending upon context. By way of explanation, I am a member of a Facebook dedicated to grammar and spelling (yes, I know it's a shock; pick yourselves up from the floor). Some of the members are EAL, but I think this person I was interacting with was deliberately obtuse. He wanted to know whether to refer to some professorial types in a missive with a capital 'P'. I advised if he is addressing the learned folk by their courtesy title, then it's Capital P. He kept responding that professor was a common noun. Well, it is. However, it's also a courtesy title. It got to the point where I wanted to type in shouty capitals: DID I FUCKING STUTTER, but I managed to keep it together. More importantly, I think I got the OP to realise when and where to capitalise his 'P'. But I later reflected I had wasted a goodly chunk of my evening quarreling over this. Jeez-Louise. 

As Rodriguez so artfully and soulfully sang years ago: I wonder.

Just Pondering to the Kid's Playlist

 I'm just sitting here, wondering what to write about, and listening to the playlist emanating from my son's bedroom. He's playing random songs from my iTunes account, and furthermore, singing along. At present, it's Todd Lundgren's sublime I Saw The Light. Just before, it was Mr Brightside by the Killers.  My kid was very much in my mind last week; it was his seventeenth birthday. Now, I'm listening to him playing Modern Girl by James Freud and the Radio All Stars (James is missed, isn't he?). It amazes me to think I've grown a human inside me who emerged as a laidback, easygoing, constantly smiling baby, subsequently developing into a theatrical, incredibly funny, talented dancer who plays the drums and gigs with a few schoolfriends occasionally. 

It's hard to find things to write about lately because the news is still saturated with pandemic stories. I am so looking forward to the day when we regain some of the pre-Covid life. (Now Get it On by T-Rex can be heard from my offspring's room). Folks, wear your masks and get jabbed. 

So, what have I been doing lately? Well, I've been on leave. Didn't do much, what with restrictions and all. I was able to get to Tamworth and attend the exhibitions of costumes from The Dressmaker. My, they were sumptuous. My local TAFE needed some hair models, so I got a colour and foils done. It only took four hours (eek!).  Trivia is back on, so the fun (and successful!) evenings I have been having with my oldest and his mate have made me feel good. I ponder this pleasantness as the strains of Dave Grohl and the Foo Fighters, talking about how they Learn to Fly, waft from beneath the door of my son's room.

Most of all, we are in the process of organising renovation to our be-it-so-humble abode. Soon, it won't be humble. Soon it'll be pimping a brand new kitchen, much in the manner that the Kaiser Chiefs are now pimping Ruby. 

My leave is over and I'm back at work tomorrow. I've still tutored during the break, which has proven most rewarding. My older students are studying satire at the moment and I've enjoyed discussing the elements and questions a good piece of satire provokes in the viewer or reader. Let me ask you, reader, does a work of art have to conform to societal values and norms?

Anyway, I'm a bit sleepy at the moment. Might start getting ready for bed. I will probably write tomorrow or Wednesday about some of the hilarious stories I was able to share with two old schoolfriends the other day. These stories involve nuns, which usually make for excellent guffaw fodder (once you get past the screeching and ruler-waving).