I cannot hear the alarming rustle and scrabbling of claws as the loathsome creature scurries between my walls, but I can smell it. My shopping list for today is still being compiled, but I might have to add bait thereto, because I smell the slippery, slimy rodent that we call a rat. You care to hear how my olfactory was assailed thus? It's something I read the other day. I cannot vouch for its veracity, but I will tell you what was in this article. The article stated Indue Pty Limited is the corporation with the contract to manage the systems of the Federal Government's welfare card program. You're probably thinking, 'Big deal, Simone. Someone has to manage the system.' Yes, well, no - NOBODY has to manage the system because it's a violation of civil liberties and takes away people's agency and autonomy - but back to the point; in theory the system has to be managed. Indue Pty Limited is apparently owned by members of the Liberal and National Party, and donates to branches of those parties. Now do YOU smell the frickin' rat, too? Ages ago I wrote about this arsehat of an idea, being the welfare card system, I hinted the card might be geared toward Woolworths and Coles only because the Government might be in the pockets of those supermarket giants. Hmmmm, maybe I was on the right track, but meandering onto the wrong side path? Anyway, I state again that the concept of a welfare card is utterly demeaning and offensive. 'Oh wait,' bleats the Government, 'where it's trialled incidents of alcohol consumption and gambling have decreased.' Oh wait, I snarl back, gambling and alcohol are still perfectly legal products to an adult free citizen, and while those citizens purchase some booze or partake in a gambling related activity such as the pokies, you lot get revenue, or have you forgotten?
Did anybody else catch the program 'Cyberhate' on ABC2 last night? It was helmed by Tara Moss, and dealt with Internet bullying, and trolls. It was very interesting, and opened my eyes somewhat. I've been relatively lucky in not having had too much vile online abuse directed at me. I've had people contact me via PM, say something insulting about my weight (which is quite normal for my height), and then block me. The other weekend I called someone online a 'troll'. I think my comment was 'okay', given the context in which I made it: this person had made a racist and anti-Semitic toned remark. This same person took the time to peruse my online profile and contact my husband, and tell him to keep his 'fat ugly bitch of a wife on a leash'. My husband was impressed not in the slightest. Gee, I wonder why? I copped a very nasty one from somebody on Twitter, who did not like me pointing out to the followers of Derryn Hinch's Justice Party why a bail magistrate made an order she did. Without going into too much detail, this person suggested I was on the receiving end of non-consensual paternal incestuous violations. He didn't write it in those words because he's not as articulate as me. I will admit to being angered by the comment, and the person's stupidity. I considered reporting the comment and the person. Then it occurred to me this person would find himself being taken into the A&E Department with a self-inflicted bullet wound to his foot, once a potential girlfriend or employer checked his online activity. If that cretinous creep is reading this, are you single and on the dole yet? I did reply to the odious prick, and told him the fact that he'd make that comment speaks volumes more about him than it does me. But if anyone is receiving vile abuse online, use the 'block' button. It's a cliché, but horrified responses are what these imbecilic wank-stains are after. Or do what James Blunt does - he reminds his abusers/trolls that he might have an annoying voice, but he had no mortgage, either.
Anyway, yes, I must be away and do some shopping, after I add Ratsak to the list. Oh, and apple cider vinegar - we're almost out and there's pretty much NOTHING that stuff can't do. We are still in the process of getting our house back in order following the Christmas Eve flood, and are grateful we kept our insurance premiums up to date. The gratitude becomes a little strained on the part of Mr Bingells, who has spent the past two days assembling computer desks from a flat pack kit. There is a special corner in Hell for the person who designed flat pack furniture.
I have read the edited manuscript for my next novel, and found only ONE error. Huzzah! Now I will have to read it all again when the publishers email me the re-edit. It's tedious but necessary, and I hope you will buy the book when it becomes available - hopefully in a few more months. The title is 'Howling On A Concrete Moon', and my son came up with it.
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