Just a Disgusted Little Rant

 I've always been under the impression people attain qualifications or knowledge after the requisite study and due assessment, or otherwise via osmosis. But over the past week, everybody seems to have drawn on innate knowledge and - hey, presto! - looky here, maw, we done got us a dagnab true load of ballistics experts. No, I don't know why I'm attempting to type in a phonetic Appalachian patois, either. 

I refer to, of course, the tragic on-set incident involving Alec Baldwin and the cinematographer, Halyna Hutchins. 'Why was he pointing a gun at her?' 'Why was there a live round on set?' 'Who's the armourer?' 'How can a blank kill someone?' The aforementioned are a cross-reference of the overriding tone of the questions and demands. Here's the thing where I'm concerned: I don't know. I can hypothesise and say stuff I DO sort of know, like:

1. A 'blank' can kill someone if fired at close enough range. Remember Jon-Erik Hexum, the actor who died after fartarsing with a blanks-loaded handgun in a mock game of Russian roulette in 1984? 

2. I don't know if the bullet in the weapon fired by Baldwin was a blank or real one, but I'm more than happy to let the inquiry that surely must transpire take its due course. 

3. There's a good chance Baldwin was directed to perform an actor-facing-camera shot, and the cinematographer and director were standing behind camera. From what I understand of filmmaking, this is pretty common. 

4. There's every chance Baldwin is devastated about this and my heart goes out to him, and the family of Ms Hutchins. 

People have predictably been making unpleasant or snide comments about it, and while I will own up to having a crook sense of humour at times, I just cannot joke about something like this. I'm glad, because that would put me in the same league as Donald Trump Jnr, who has been selling online tee-shirts with the epithet: Guns don't kill people. Alec Baldwin kills people. Seriously, Trump-Spawn, what the fuck is wrong with you? Did Baldwin lampoon your shitgibbon father once too often for your liking? A woman lost her life in this incident, and all you can do is make foul humour of it. Still, given you get a boner when you shoot wildlife, I shouldn't be surprised. 

Oh well, study awaits.

For Future Reference

 Apropos of my last post wherein I had a good old bitch about APA 7th edition referencing, I am validated. It is DEFINITELY a whole new layer of Hell and Dante would do well to steer well clear. I received an assessment back this morning and I have been let down by my referencing. Can I just say referencing totally fucking bites the bag? There, that's off my chest. 

Here are my options:

1. Cry.

2. Start a whiny Change Dot Org petition wherein I call for the person responsible for this dastardly requirement to be stuffed into a weapons-grade trebuchet and catapulted right out to Betelgeuse. 

3. Accept that my referencing skills need work, speak to a tutor, install some referencing software, and work like a Trojan on my next assessment to ensure I get the overall marks necessary to pass this unit which, ironically, is about resilience. 

Guess I'll go with the third option. 

So, what's good at the moment?

1. My new kitchen is coming along nicely and I adore the new white tiled splash-back. I hyphenated the words 'splash' and 'back' because they refer to a noun, but spellcheck won't let me type them together, and I therefore say they must be hyphenated. 

2. I had a good tutoring session via Zoom this morning and successfully shared a screen. To all you digital natives out there, I know you're thinking: 'Ho-hum', but this is a big moment for a digital immigrant of my age. 

3. We have a new TV. Our old one died so we bought a new one yesterday, you know the kind: apps like Stan and Netflix already on it. I am old enough (why I'm a digital immigrant) to remember colour television being introduced in Australia, and how exciting it was to get a new colour TV. Also recall having to roll a button back and forth to tune in a channel that was blurry or snowy. Guess what? Had to get up off the lounge to do this. If the kid I was back then could envisage the television set I now have, that kid would not believe it. 

Anyway, I will now either work on my other assessment or watch something on this big-arse new TV.

THAT Lyric from 'Won't Get Fooled Again'

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. 

Who was that unmasked man, er, nincompoop?

 I now have another item to add to my list titled Reasons I Am Glad Tony Abbott is No Longer Prime Minister. This item will join other remarkable and noteworthy items such as #194 Fetishising virginity in girls (Tones, is your concept of virginity loss dick-in-vag? There's more to sex than dick-in-vag action, in case nobody told you); #194 Punching a whole in the wall near a woman's head after losing an argument to her); #67 Saying 'Suppository of wisdom'; #48 Appointing himself Minister for Women when he's a sexist troglodyte; #99 Crowing he would stop the boats without consideration he came out on a boat, too; and oh, lots and lots, too multitudinous to list in the short time I have available before cooking dinner.

The new # will be in relation to him not wearing a mask in public last week, which has the dual crime of (1) contravening public health regulation, and (2) exposing the public to more of his smirking face than what would be an acceptable level of exposure. 

For this deed, as is prudent, he copped a $500.00 fine. He then went on to bitch, beef, and blather about how he thought it wasn't in the Australian character to dob and snitch. Yes, he used the words 'dob' and 'snitch'. Mate, you're sixty-three, not twelve. Spoken like a true sniveling poltroon who's been caught out at school. By the way, didn't his government implement the 'dob-in-a-dealer' program? Look at the first word in my hyphenated phrase. 

He then committed the more heinous offence of using the word 'un-Australian' (which I would suggest is not a word so much as an unavailing letter salad), by griping it is un-Australian to dob. This term, bandied about by desperate flops, has the power and brio of a wet Sao. Seriously, if this is how he fortifies and formulates arguments, it is little wonder he lost that debate at university all those years ago. 

Tony, might I suggest you:

1) Obey health directives because entitled nincompoops like you are making it difficult for the rest of us; and 

2) Use stronger terminology in your supposedly persuasive arguments. 'Un-Australian' pretty much just eats shit and the argument flatlines the instant the user puts it forward. 

Off to update the list now. Sigh...

Oh, Vi-en-net-taaaaaa! (Sorry, Ultravox)

I've learned a few things this week, and not just because study has resumed. Speaking of the study, I'm enjoying the online collaboration and reading one of the links that breaks down the nouns into even further subsets, to wit, agentive nouns and demonstrative nouns. Now I have the tools to drive people even sillier when I'm differentiating between common, proper, and pronouns. One of the suggested exercises was to click on a link and complete and Year 9 NAPLAN language conventions test. I looked at the questions and rolled my eyes almost to the next dimension. Forgive my hubris (or don't; I'm not bothered), but I felt the suggestion I do that test was akin to suggesting Da Vinci complete a join-the-dots drawing designed for a six-year-old. 

Another thing I learned is who Nardia Bartel is. Until this week, I had never heard of her, which is not surprising given my interest in AFL WAGs is comparable to a slug's interest in thermodynamics. She was filmed snorting cocaine off - and this is what has the cyberworld losing its collective shit - a K-mart plate. Maybe the Royal Doulton was in the washing up pile. Frankly, she can snort her Bolivian booger-sugar off a dirty toilet seat for all I care, and she can snort until her septum disintegrates, but did she miss the news about avoiding gatherings in a pandemic? This is what's really giving me the irrits. And Nads, when we are allowed gatherings again, I'd get some new friends, if I were you. Whoever 'accidentally' (yeah, right, and I'm Angelina Jolie!) uploaded the footage of you doing the hooter-hoover to Instagram is not your friend, okay? This person is a complete arsehole. 

I have also learned that Viennetta desserts were first marketed in Australia in the mid-1980s. This became news of great importance because Anthony Albanese reminisced about the odd treat of Viennetta in his house when he was a kid. The only problem was that Anthony would have been in young adulthood, not a kid, when Viennettas were marketed, and the Murdoch press and LNP swooped on this factoid like the miserable, carcass-devouring buzzards they are. Honestly, is a mistimed and anachronistic reminiscence really that much of a scandal? Barnaby Joyce tried to get in on the story during Question Time! As an aside: Barnaby, had you been drinking AGAIN when you tried to segue to this non-story? You florid flip. Given the Federal government's sickening mishandling of Covid and the vaccine rollout, this is the most ludicrous red herring I have ever seen bandied. 

Before I leave, I will mention two little phrases that have really been doing in my poor old head of late. The first one is 'Asking for a friend.' It was actually mildly amusing the first time I read it. However, the little joke has lost its lustre after the 472,000th sighting. 

The other one is 'I'll wait'. Meme-generators create their meme, which contains a question, and then finishes with: 'I'll wait.' First of all, what the fuck else are you going to do in the time between posting the meme and receiving answers? Waiting is what everyone does in the passage of time when they are anticipating something, whether it's an answer or a parcel in the mail or just about anything. Furthermore, there is something imperiously smug and supercilious about the tone of that phrase, when used in the manner described, and that's what really grinds my gears. I wish people would just stop doing it, but I WON'T wait. 

Oh well, that's me for now. Chat soon.

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.