I had a look at my blog site tonight, and oh my giddy aunt, I was aghast to see I haven't written in a long time. This I attribute to a few factors. I've been renovating and my house is a chaotic hellscape. I've also been busy doing two uni assessments. Truth be told, I enjoyed the subjects and writing the assessments. What I did NOT enjoy was the referencing because, as anybody who has ever written a university paper will attest to, it is a special new level of Hell.
What a clusterfuck New South Wales politics has been over the past few days. Gladys has resigned. I am not at all saddened by this, particularly in light of the scurrilous sale of Scone TAFE. Today, her co-conspirator in koala slaughter also resigned. I heard about Pork-barrel-aro's resignation and mentally fist-pumped (I was driving at the time and am mindful of keeping two hands on the wheel). No more misusing anti-terrorism police units because he couldn't take a bit of teasing for him, eh? The Twittersphere has been dropping a few hints about some circumstances of his leaving, and if true, they're veee-rrrrr-y interesting. They are unsubstantiated, so I will refrain from repeating them here. The problem we are facing now is the most likely contender for the role of premier is Dominic Perrottet. This man is a self-righteous Holy Joe type, and I am aware people are entitled to religious beliefs, but I am concerned his ardent and fervent views will colour his decisions and actions, should he become premier. This is a dude who, in 2015, stated words to the effect that it is selfish of childless people to expect the pension in their old age, rather than having had children to look after them in those golden years (seriously, dude; was your arse jealous of the shit that came out your mouth?). Let us not forget he also allegedly blundered the iCare scheme with a level of incompetence that created the most monumental balls-up since King Kong stood on his head.
So as The Who insightfully sang: "Meet the new boss, same as the old boss".
Speaking of The Who, and bands etc, tonight I'm listening to the strains of George Thorogood and Motley Crue as they waft from my seventeen-year-old's room. I'm so proud he does not curse my ears with the following:
1. Fast Cars by Tracy Chapman. I like her voice, but that song depresses the living snot out of me, and I feel as claustrophobic and trapped as the narrator thereof.
2. Africa by Toto. A bland blancmange of a song from a bunch of dudes who've clearly never looked at an Atlas in their lives.
3. Copperhead Road by Steve Erle. Lugubrious bitter bilge that's overplayed and I'd rather stick a handful of Fisherman's Friends cough lollies up my bum than listen to it again.
Well, that's me for tonight. I'm about to do my physio exercises and watch The Newsreader on ABC iView. Excellent series set in a fictional Aussie newsroom in 1986. Highly recommended.
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