More Stupid People

Apropos of my last post wherein I wrote of Jessica, who whilst being assigned the gender of male at birth now identifies as a woman and is complaining of transphobic discrimination against beauticians who are not willing to carry out a wax on her scrotum (when I first started writing stories as a kid those are the sentences I NEVER could have imagined writing), she is now taking malicious glee in what appears to be a closure of one of the businesses that aroused her ire. Well, she's gloating that the business is no longer listed at some store complex after she informed the landlord about what she perceives to be the business's transphobia.

Jessica, sticking a tiara on your head and squeezing your bulk into a tight dress (as you have done for your profile pic) doesn't make you a woman. Maybe you ARE a woman, and I respect your right to that belief and support the rights of transgendered people. However, going after a business for exercising a right to not touch anyone's genitalia and then smugly revelling in what you imagine is their downfall at your grubby hands does make you a prize cunt. I don't care if  you have ovaries, testes, or a bowl of bon-bons; you're a prize cunt. By the way, why do you have such an obsession with how girls insert tampons, and why are you seeking to have a pool party whereat LGBTQI+ guests over the age of twelve are encouraged to swim topless, and no parents there? Maybe I'm getting a tad sceptical in my old age, but this is really a bit suspicious.

Anyway, if you must prove your point and bully a beautician into waxing your ball bag, here's hoping you get one with no experience, and who re-enacts that waxing scene from The Forty-Year-Old Virgin on your Jatz crackers.

Another person who is making me roll my eyes is Mark Fitzgibbon, head of the NIB. He's put forward the notion that Medicare be abolished, with people being forced to take out private coverage, and 'we' (his term, which I take to mean him and his cronies) choose the insurer. Mate, can you not see just how corrupt, rancid, and foetid that idea is? I can't afford private health cover. Neither can many other people. And precisely WHAT insurer are you going to pick for people? Weee-eelllll, given you're the head of the NIB, I'm guessing your lot will get the lion's share, under your proposal. Fuck right off with your stupid ideas, and take the stench of rat with you.

Okay, now who wants to know the stupidest thing I read today? Here 'tis:

 Why do people have to suck the joy out of everything? And do whomsoever is the person whose identity is obliterated by the blue marker: what the actual fuck are you talking about, and why are you such a knob? Spanish IS a European language. Last time I looked at an atlas, Spain was in Europe, and furthermore, Spanish is a derivative of the Romantic languages. And you know what else? If I want to learn a language that is not in keeping with my ethnicity, then I'll go out and fucking learn it! What's the point of me learning a language congruous with my culture? I already speak English (and very well, if I do say so myself)! Overly dramatic, woke pissbabies like the person with the blue line over his or her name are the reason why we can't have nice things any more.

Something else I no longer have is my pet cockatiel, Charlie. He passed in his sleep last night, at the grand old age of twenty-four. He loved to rock out to anything with a good bass line, and particularly loved the opening to Psycho Killer by Talking Heads. How I miss watching him dance on his perch. RIP, you squawking old ratbag.

Oh well, book signing in Scone tomorrow - 10.30am to 12.00 midday. Excited.

What A Balls-Up!

I have not been doing much by way of blogging because I have been holidaying in Port Stephens, where I caught up with friends and family, and consumed my body weight in alcohol, crisps, and corn chips (hey, I'm sure some of the major food groups got at least a small look in with that lot). The day after my return I was rostered to work, and have been doing so since. I've also been organising book promotional stuff, and reading, watching You Me Her on Netflix, and scrolling through my Twitter feed.

Today, I'm kind of wishing I hadn't. I've been reading about a person who identifies as female, and  who has lodged complaints to the Human Rights Council against beauticians in British Columbia who have declined a service requested by her. I use the pronoun 'her' because if this is how the person identifies, then all well and good. She was assigned the male gender at birth, but believes she is female. I respect that. I support the rights of marginalised people in the LGBTQI community.  Known as 'Jessica', she still has male genitalia. The service she has requested is a waxing of her scrotum. The beauticians who have declined to carry out this service are small business owners, some operating from home, are NESB, and possibly have cultural issues with touching male genitalia. Another thing to be considered is waxing a ball bag is perhaps not like waxing someone's legs because the scrotal skin has a different integrity and higher sensitivity. Perhaps not every beautician is trained in this, and it could be very specialised. I liken it to people who gripe about the barber not cutting their daughter's hair, when the said barber specialises in men's cuts.

I suppose we will have to strap on the skis, or climb onto the toboggan, to navigate this oft-used ubiquitous 'slippery slope' that is always segued, but although Jessica maintains people are using their own cultural beliefs and religion to deny a service to a person who is LGBTQI, I don't think we can use the old 'Christian baker should still bake a cake for a same sex wedding' argument. In what universe is it acceptable to force a woman to touch genitalia that she doesn't wish to touch (I'm not talking about a nurse or doctor carrying out a medical procedure; that's a whole different kettle of fish)?

Jessica, do you want to go to a person who doesn't specialise in this procedure, and have your scrotum scorched with hot wax, and then pulled and yanked and stretched like ball of pizza dough, just to prove a point? Not every beautician is comfortable doing waxing on male hair, be the male cis or a transgendered female. It can be physically difficult if the hair is strong, and if the beautician is a sole practitioner, she might refuse male customers on safety grounds (the woman I used to see when I lived in Sydney's Eastern Suburbs had this policy because she was often on her own at night). Not every beautician will carry out waxing the intimate areas of males OR females because it's not their cup of tea. But guess what? For all these beauticians that won't wax your Mudgee mail-bags, there will be other beauticians who WILL! Do your research.  The male back-crack-sac wax has been around for many a year. All you had to do was take your business elsewhere, rather than try and destroy someone.  What you're doing is just - ahem! - nuts.

I honestly don't think this is a case of discrimination against the LGBTQI community, but rather an assertion of a woman's rights to not carry out a service that involves touching genitalia if she is uncomfortable, and is under no obligation to carry out.

Okay, now I'm two cents' poorer, but I think I'm making sense (if not cents).

Book Promoting & Possibly Problematic Stuff on the Ipod

Before I go much further, my interview with a local AM station was aired this morning, and I will share a link here. I've had a few congratulations on the interview, so I am very happy about that. It's interesting, but people tend to assume the protagonist, Tess, is about me. She's not. She's got some qualities I had as a seventeen-year-old - shy and literate - but she's NOT me. Something I've found as an author is people assume you're writing about yourself, and this is not necessarily the case at all. Writers tend to write about what they KNOW, but the reader should not assume the character is a manifestation of the author. I was attending a sex-scene session at a literary festival last year, and pointed out that you could write the most gruesome, cannibalistic murder scene ever, and the reader is all: 'Yep, okay', but write a sex scene, no matter how pedestrian and vanilla the act, and everyone's like: 'That's YOU, isn't it?!!!!!!'

Anyway, check out the link to my radio interview here: https://www.2nm.com.au/podcast-player/show/7315650-simone-bailey-howling-on-a-concrete-moon/2nm-breakfast

It occurs to me there is material in the book the modern SJW is likely to view as 'problematic'. I make no apology for this, but will suggest if anybody has a problem with the material, then to contextualise. Some of the points of view given by the characters are keeping in with the zeitgeist of the book's setting.

On this line of thinking, just for shits and giggles I had a bit of a look through my iPod playlist, just to see what would annoy the woke people of today. Here are a few numbers:

1. Cat Scratch Fever by Ted Nugent. Well, just the fact it's Ted Nugent is enough to get people clutching their pearls, or indulging in the modern-day equivalent, which is to start an online petition seeking to ban things because some people don't understand the concept of just not looking at or not listening to material that bothers them. It would appear the song is not about a cat playing with a scratching post, but apparently it's about STIs. When Nugent growls, 'I give 'em cat scratch fever...', alarmists everywhere would be decrying his cavalier attitude to not using condoms and spreading around his poxy boy-germs.

2. Mendocino by The Sir Douglas Quintet. To me, the narrator always appeared to be a lovelorn teenager, desperate for his girlfriend to commit - although the lyrics about 'please don't go/please stay here with me in Mendocino' made me wonder if he was trying to hold her back and prevent her realising her full potential. However, if driven types heard Doug Sahm singing: 'Fast-talking guys/With strange red eyes/Have put things in your head/And started your mind to wonderin'...', there would be screams about the dude being a gaslighter of the worst type. It would appear 'gaslighting' is the word du jour of late. That's not to downplay the seriousness of what is really manipulative abuse, but I do see it rather a lot when I'm reading articles lately.

3. Once Bitten, Twice Shy by Ian Hunter because when he sings: 'I got there in the nick of time/Before he got his hands across your state line...', he sounds like something of a cock-blocker who doesn't want to allow the woman agency and self-autonomy over her own sexuality. If anyone's got an issue with this song, chill out and enjoy Mick Ronson's solo - best guitar solo EVER!

I know it sounds like I'm reading too much into these songs, but I'm not. I'm just having a bit of fun imagining how the modern socially aware generation would interpret them. In fact, I'm just off to play those songs now, while I'm getting my mini foxie his dinner. Speaking of my mini fox terrier, can I just give a shout-out to the guy across the road with the monstrous blue heeler (that appears to have been crossed with a Great Dane, or maybe a horse) this morning: You rock, man! No wait, that came out wrong. What I meant to type was this: you are a fucking moron who should keep that vicious beast on a leash, instead of allowing it to wander around with you, thus enabling it to come across the road and bite my little dog when I was walking him today. Reader, let me tell you I let fly with the language at that rotten mongrel, as I quickly dragged my dog away and scooped him up. Thankfully, my dog was not injured in the fracas, but seriously, if you've got a vicious bloody hell-beast like that fucking thing, keep it on a leash!

Just before I go, I've published a short story on Amazon - it's a satirical look at the Instagram influencer generation, and it tells the story of a planned raunchy afternoon that spirals into craziness. It's only $1.41AUD, and here's a link. I'm sure it will give you a laugh.

https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07V4VT4XG

Working on the Holidays

I'm officially on holidays at the moment, but the work never ceases. However, it's work I'm enjoying because it's all about ME! I've been promoting Howling on a Concrete Moon, so hopefully people will buy it, and enjoy it, and tell all their friends about it, who will then all buy it, and I will get such a whopping fabuloso royalty cheque, I will be able to retire and write full time, and that way we AAAAALLLLL benefit! I'm aware this sounds like a very Rube Goldberg seemingly tenuous connection, but a gal can dream, can't she?

Anyway, if you care, this is what I've been up to lately:

1. Yesterday, I pre-recorded an interview with my local AM station, which will go to air next Monday. I will share the link accordingly. I have made an autographed copy of the book available for the 'first lucky caller', and hopefully someone will ring up and score themselves a copy, and enjoy it. If nobody rings, I am going to feel very like I used to feel at high school dances, sitting on the orange plastic moulded chairs, not being asked to dance, whilst other kids formed a helix around each other in time to Hopelessly Devoted to You.

2. Today, I dropped a copy of the book to my local ABC station in order that the journalists could have a quick read before an interview is scheduled. I also rang a bookstore in a nearby town with a view to organising an in-store appearance. I did an appearance there years ago, promoting Abernethy (http://www.zeus-publications.com/abernethy.htm). Abernethy is a story about a lonely fourteen-year-old who befriends a talking beagle. The back cover clearly states this, and I also told browsers who picked up the copy for a perusal. Some people asked, 'Is it a true story?' I said it was all fiction, and bit back an almost insurmountable urge to sarcastically suggest they take more care when rinsing the pesticides off the fruit.

3. Put You're Still My Favourite Girlfriend, Alice Long on my iPod. Most of you would know I like Sixties music, and this is a particular favourite of mine. I suspect it might be the production values, and that it was recorded by people who had some talent, which these days appears to be an aside, instead of a prerequisite, when recording music.

4. Put If You Leave by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark on my iPod. Most of you know I seriously loathe Eighties music as a rule, but this one I like. Reminds me of a time when I didn't have to worry about bills. I know it conjures up images of that twit from Two & A Half Men (not Charlie Sheen, the other one) at the school dance scene in Pretty in Pink (and seriously, how lame was the Andrew McCarthy character in this film? At least the twit from Two & A Half Men had a bit of soul, and interesting lines).

5. Put Love Plus One by Haircut 100 on my iPod. Yes, again, it's Eighties, but it's a bit of pure pop, and not too bad.

6. Told my youngest I am NOT putting Country Roads by John Denver on the iPod. I don't it that much. Mr Bingells told me he heard our youngest telling his friends about 'the songs on Mum's iPod', and introducing them to various numbers I have on that little machine. As much as the kids can aggravate, it's always good to see them sharing a broad and eclectic taste in music. My youngest will in one breath listen to Motley Crue, and then put a picture of John Denver on our computer as the screen saver. I didn't know whether to laugh or scold him. When it comes to John, I think he was great, but I don't want that particular song on my iPod. I have put Calypso on there. Some people might think Calypso farty wankery, but I do like it.

Well, I'm going to curl upon the lounge for some Netflix at the moment. Mr Bingells is teaching Mister Eighteen the art of preparing a good apricot chicken, a skill that will prove advantageous when he is as university. University. Wow. Seems like only yesterday I peed on a stick and watched the pink line materialise.

Promoting the Book

Okay, first things first. Before I do anything else, I must refer you to the edited 'about me' section of this blog, because it has a link to my latest novel, Howling on a Concrete Moon, whereby you can find yourself reading the first chapter, along with some blurb, and author bio. Or, you can simply click here: http://www.zeus-publications.com/Howling%20on%20a%20concrete%20moon.htm

Finally, it is here! Finally, I have opened the bottle of Moet et Chandon I was given as a fiftieth birthday present. Finally, I have an understanding of why people rave about that stuff; it's bloody DELICIOUS! The downside to this Damascene awakening is I have now developed a champagne taste on what is most definitely a beer budget. However, should my readership wish to keep me in Moet, you can assist by *cough! hint! cough!* checking the link and making a purchase - either paperback or download as e-book; your choice.

I was going to do a more detailed post about what arses the Government are, but I might save it for tomorrow. At present, I have some promotional stuff to work on, and also, some Air Tasker writing assignments to which I must attend. 

Anyway, that's all for the moment. I have to research upcoming writers' festivals, ring local radio stations, and do all the stuff I can to promote this book. I am becoming as shameless and self-promotional as a Kardashian, but have ruled out 'leaking' a sex tape of myself on the Internet to promote the book. Breathe a sigh of relief, folks.