It is winter solstice again; the long night.
I went to my little sister's place for dinner and to play cards and it was good to see them and catch up on their news. Time is moving faster for them now that she's going to have a baby. There's a very finite and concrete sense of 'time left before the baby comes' and 'everything after'. I can see what shape it is giving to weekends and plans and of course their relationship. All the natural winter urges are heightened for them.
I was thinking earlier today - what is the most beautiful thing that you can think of? Or perhaps it is a place or a person or a sound... feel the joy and the beauty it brings you. How precious and wonderful that is.
Now unless you naturally think of the Eagle Nebula, the Sun's corona or the rings of Saturn, chances are very very good that what you thought of - even your top ten - are all here on earth. Everything is here. So why is it that being a 'greenie' or someone concerned about the well being and survival of the planet is still considered such a social crime? I just don't understand how anyone can be so obstinately ignorant of the peril we're in. It isn't even that "if we break this one we don't have a spare" because we know this one is already broken and the question on every body's heart and mind should really be more like "how much can we mend it if we all pitch in?"
All those extinct species won't come back, but maybe we won't all have to genetically merge with salamanders to survive.
Showing posts with label angry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label angry. Show all posts
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Monday, May 04, 2009
Not What it Seems
Since the Enlightenment our western culture has revered the advances and solutions that science has delivered. It is one of those fields of human endeavour of which we are very proud.
After all, We fought our way up from thinking that all flesh contains the maggots that may crawl out of it from death and that the entire firmament spins about us, the magical centre of the universe to a much more detailed, specific, understood and known set of laws and reasons and consequences. We can make a machine and send it to another planet via a complex set of other machines and operate it from here for years of reseach and images. We can measure things so small that they become unpredictable in their behaviour and so discover another realm of knowledge enticing us forwards, we can split the centre of an atom and power a city with it. In short, we have become wizards. But just like Bod, we also call up things we cannot control.
We introduce Cane Toads to deal with a moth they don't eat, we have no way of dealing with the waste outcomes of splitting atoms, we can clone sheep, but we aren't really sure why we might do that. So we have Wizard Watchers, people versed in the lore of science, and ready to protect the interests of the greater good of humans. We call them ethicists. We trust that they are at the front lines, balancing our powers with our responsibilities, weighing the possible good with the largely unknown dangers, calling upon the broader communities for discussion, awareness, support and concensus.
Oh wait, I obviously strayed into science fiction there for a moment. When was the last time you heard an appeal from an ethicist for debate? Actually can you name an ethicist? Um .... Peter Singer? Is he? Does he count? I don't know.
What I do know, is that when I read a news article this morning about a court granting permission to a 17 year old to remove his breasts after having been on a gender-reassignment hormone treatment since the age of 13 everything seemed to be in order until I came across this quote from the ethicist (I excerpt here from the article, my emphasis added):
'But ethicist Nick Tonti-Filippini said mainstream medicine did not recognise hormone treatments and surgery as treatment for gender dysphoria. He said it was a psychiatric disorder qualifying under American guidelines as a psychosis because "it's a belief out of accordance with reality".
"What you are trying to do is make a biological reality correspond to that false belief." he said.'
Well that set off my "danger danger" antenna. My understanding is that psychosis is an extreme level of measure, a non-functional state of mental operation. A level, let us remember for a moment, that was applied in the not-too-distant-past to creative types ( NZ author) and women not deemed suitably compliant or docile by their husbands and used as an excuse for labotomies, elcetric shock torture and extreme confinement. But also, and perhaps more importantly, the way this has been formulated as being abberant in relation to an objective "reality".
So apparently, whenever any of us have an idea or a wish to use our will to make reality different, we're possibly just plan psychotic. A line like this is inviting criticism of everything from hair dye, tattoos, and dressing in BSG costume through to going to university and even the entire field of science itself. Where does Mr Tonti-Filippini intend to draw the line?
What a double whammy. I presumed that if ethicists exist, they would be humanists. It seems this has been naive. It seems also, that Mr Tonti-Filippini would find many of my behaviours and desires to defy existing reality as being aberrant enough to justify the label psychotic and so deprive me of my capacity to contribute to the human endeavour of growth and expansion (in ways that do not simply involve the multiplication of our number) and nested inside that issue is his presumption of an objective "reality". In the words of Dylan Moran, "Why does no one say, let's be realistic, oil me ?" Why is reality presumed to be locked in, ordered, un-changeable?
It is easy enough to discover that much as Alex in the court case identifies as "he", our ethicist actually identifies himself as "Dr Tonti-Filippini, Catholic bio-ethicist". Ahh. A little bit more detail gives a lot more context to that right-wing quote. Of all the versions of this news story promulgated across the various news sites of the interwebs, no one bothered to do any more than repeat the copy and the flaws of the first story filed.
Proving in the end that judges in courts can still make thoughtful, humanist decisions, but we only hear about them through the irritating whine of bigots masquerading as informed specialists and the haze of lazy journalism. We, in the form of science have created from our own efforts amazing tools, but we clog their workings ourselves.
I welcome our robot overlords.
After all, We fought our way up from thinking that all flesh contains the maggots that may crawl out of it from death and that the entire firmament spins about us, the magical centre of the universe to a much more detailed, specific, understood and known set of laws and reasons and consequences. We can make a machine and send it to another planet via a complex set of other machines and operate it from here for years of reseach and images. We can measure things so small that they become unpredictable in their behaviour and so discover another realm of knowledge enticing us forwards, we can split the centre of an atom and power a city with it. In short, we have become wizards. But just like Bod, we also call up things we cannot control.
We introduce Cane Toads to deal with a moth they don't eat, we have no way of dealing with the waste outcomes of splitting atoms, we can clone sheep, but we aren't really sure why we might do that. So we have Wizard Watchers, people versed in the lore of science, and ready to protect the interests of the greater good of humans. We call them ethicists. We trust that they are at the front lines, balancing our powers with our responsibilities, weighing the possible good with the largely unknown dangers, calling upon the broader communities for discussion, awareness, support and concensus.
Oh wait, I obviously strayed into science fiction there for a moment. When was the last time you heard an appeal from an ethicist for debate? Actually can you name an ethicist? Um .... Peter Singer? Is he? Does he count? I don't know.
What I do know, is that when I read a news article this morning about a court granting permission to a 17 year old to remove his breasts after having been on a gender-reassignment hormone treatment since the age of 13 everything seemed to be in order until I came across this quote from the ethicist (I excerpt here from the article, my emphasis added):
'But ethicist Nick Tonti-Filippini said mainstream medicine did not recognise hormone treatments and surgery as treatment for gender dysphoria. He said it was a psychiatric disorder qualifying under American guidelines as a psychosis because "it's a belief out of accordance with reality".
"What you are trying to do is make a biological reality correspond to that false belief." he said.'
Well that set off my "danger danger" antenna. My understanding is that psychosis is an extreme level of measure, a non-functional state of mental operation. A level, let us remember for a moment, that was applied in the not-too-distant-past to creative types ( NZ author) and women not deemed suitably compliant or docile by their husbands and used as an excuse for labotomies, elcetric shock torture and extreme confinement. But also, and perhaps more importantly, the way this has been formulated as being abberant in relation to an objective "reality".
So apparently, whenever any of us have an idea or a wish to use our will to make reality different, we're possibly just plan psychotic. A line like this is inviting criticism of everything from hair dye, tattoos, and dressing in BSG costume through to going to university and even the entire field of science itself. Where does Mr Tonti-Filippini intend to draw the line?
What a double whammy. I presumed that if ethicists exist, they would be humanists. It seems this has been naive. It seems also, that Mr Tonti-Filippini would find many of my behaviours and desires to defy existing reality as being aberrant enough to justify the label psychotic and so deprive me of my capacity to contribute to the human endeavour of growth and expansion (in ways that do not simply involve the multiplication of our number) and nested inside that issue is his presumption of an objective "reality". In the words of Dylan Moran, "Why does no one say, let's be realistic, oil me ?" Why is reality presumed to be locked in, ordered, un-changeable?
It is easy enough to discover that much as Alex in the court case identifies as "he", our ethicist actually identifies himself as "Dr Tonti-Filippini, Catholic bio-ethicist". Ahh. A little bit more detail gives a lot more context to that right-wing quote. Of all the versions of this news story promulgated across the various news sites of the interwebs, no one bothered to do any more than repeat the copy and the flaws of the first story filed.
Proving in the end that judges in courts can still make thoughtful, humanist decisions, but we only hear about them through the irritating whine of bigots masquerading as informed specialists and the haze of lazy journalism. We, in the form of science have created from our own efforts amazing tools, but we clog their workings ourselves.
I welcome our robot overlords.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Australians all let us rejoice, for we are protected by our paternalistic government from seeing complicated things on the interwebs
This week it was easy to shake one's head sadly at those poor Chinese people who have suffered the indignity of the whole world knowing that their internet feeds censored Barack Obama's inauguration speech. In a double-whammy they got fucked by their own government and they missed a few good lines. Poor bastards. But then that's what you get for living in a politically shit country, like Australia China.
Of course Australia is a pretty cool and democratic place where if someone proposed that kind of thing it would be laughed at byme the rude people and heavily debated and considered and then rejected by all the polite &/ thinking people. Not just implemented. Not our style.
Aussies like to think of ourselves as easy going and fairdinkum enough to not really need the pain-in-the-arse paperwork. We as a nation are happy to sign up for things that sound like good ideas (with all the best intentions,) but we don't necessarily turn them into anything specific here at home. Our constitution reads like a random chunk of tax law. I guess that's what happens when you're set up by bureaucrats rather than Enlightenment idealists, but I digress.
Australia isn't the kind of place to freak out over, say, art or worry too much about people taking responsibility for their own lives, no way mate! So when our government says that blocking nasty things is for our own good, they probably really know what they're doing. We should just stay relaxed and comfortable, and let them take care of it.
After all, it'll be completely painless. You won't even know there's anything missing!
404 NOT FOUND
Of course Australia is a pretty cool and democratic place where if someone proposed that kind of thing it would be laughed at by
Aussies like to think of ourselves as easy going and fairdinkum enough to not really need the pain-in-the-arse paperwork. We as a nation are happy to sign up for things that sound like good ideas (with all the best intentions,) but we don't necessarily turn them into anything specific here at home. Our constitution reads like a random chunk of tax law. I guess that's what happens when you're set up by bureaucrats rather than Enlightenment idealists, but I digress.
Australia isn't the kind of place to freak out over, say, art or worry too much about people taking responsibility for their own lives, no way mate! So when our government says that blocking nasty things is for our own good, they probably really know what they're doing. We should just stay relaxed and comfortable, and let them take care of it.
After all, it'll be completely painless. You won't even know there's anything missing!
404 NOT FOUND
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Craft Rage
Knitting while watching "Blades of Glory" last night I dropped a stitch. I should have seen it coming (if you can excuse the pun, please do), I had the lights off, I wasn't paying attention to either activity and I'd consumed a 'slightly' over-large dinner so was sprawled skewed on my side, whale style. Uncomfortable and irritable is not the right attitude for almost anything other than perhaps voting and deciding on one's funeral arrangements. But I digress.
So I don't immediately notice I've dropped this stitch because ball #2 of the originally cute and fun wool ("Snowball" from Lincraft. I would link you through it it, but even their web site sucks) has turned out to be a ball of scraps and so far I've had to re-join it 3 times in the first 4 rows. Cue gritted teeth and irritation spiking into unfocused anger. So I was trying to check that my knot hadn't come undone and inadvertently gave the dropped stitch a nudge and BANG down she goes about 5 rows. Shit. I fumbled it and another 2 rows gone. Oh man. Lots of fiddly stuffing around will have to happen in strong daylight if this project is going to be salvaged and it is already late. Weeks late. It was going to be a gift, then a belated gift, now, now I'm just a shit friend who couldn't get it together to finish a simple project.
Having learnt from dealing with my Father and Microsoft products that there is simply no use in cursing and railing at an inanimate object, I put it down. Mid row, mid stitch, mid cluster fuck. Walked away.
Craft is pitched as something that is easy and fun. Magazine TV shows, soft cover coffee table books, catchy little projects at the back near the recipes and crossword puzzles or the odd feature article about some gorgeous design savant who only wears moccasins and silk and here's something you can try at home.
Well the reality is that most projects are an exercise in salvaging the beautiful vision from the miscalculations, errors, accidents and monumental fuck-ups that we the unskilled, we the incapable, we the deluded perform upon the project. These usually start in the infancy as we chose the materials but always always appear and manifest in the execution. Most of us have crappy taste or no visual eye for matching patterns and colours and create truly grotesque items even we can't bear to look at. From the garish colours to the badly constructed angles and fully creepy eyes or lopsided mouths. We spawn horrors. I spawn horrors.
I suck at this. I am ashamed that I persevere and, sin of all sins, give my pitiful pathetic mewling aberrations as gifts to my suffering friends. I'm sorry. Actually, it's just me... I'm certain that it is just me. After all, my friends make things, and they're beautiful (the things and the friends in this particular example). Some of them are complicated and technical (things) and all of them (both friends and things again now) are excellent. So it must just be me, and a secret workshop somewhere designated to create Crap Craft for resale in op-shops. Maybe I should go and work in that secret workshop. Maybe that's my true calling. My chance for redemption, for a meaningful life.
Or I could just sleep on it. After all, not every day can be a Monday.
So I don't immediately notice I've dropped this stitch because ball #2 of the originally cute and fun wool ("Snowball" from Lincraft. I would link you through it it, but even their web site sucks) has turned out to be a ball of scraps and so far I've had to re-join it 3 times in the first 4 rows. Cue gritted teeth and irritation spiking into unfocused anger. So I was trying to check that my knot hadn't come undone and inadvertently gave the dropped stitch a nudge and BANG down she goes about 5 rows. Shit. I fumbled it and another 2 rows gone. Oh man. Lots of fiddly stuffing around will have to happen in strong daylight if this project is going to be salvaged and it is already late. Weeks late. It was going to be a gift, then a belated gift, now, now I'm just a shit friend who couldn't get it together to finish a simple project.
Having learnt from dealing with my Father and Microsoft products that there is simply no use in cursing and railing at an inanimate object, I put it down. Mid row, mid stitch, mid cluster fuck. Walked away.
Craft is pitched as something that is easy and fun. Magazine TV shows, soft cover coffee table books, catchy little projects at the back near the recipes and crossword puzzles or the odd feature article about some gorgeous design savant who only wears moccasins and silk and here's something you can try at home.
Well the reality is that most projects are an exercise in salvaging the beautiful vision from the miscalculations, errors, accidents and monumental fuck-ups that we the unskilled, we the incapable, we the deluded perform upon the project. These usually start in the infancy as we chose the materials but always always appear and manifest in the execution. Most of us have crappy taste or no visual eye for matching patterns and colours and create truly grotesque items even we can't bear to look at. From the garish colours to the badly constructed angles and fully creepy eyes or lopsided mouths. We spawn horrors. I spawn horrors.
I suck at this. I am ashamed that I persevere and, sin of all sins, give my pitiful pathetic mewling aberrations as gifts to my suffering friends. I'm sorry. Actually, it's just me... I'm certain that it is just me. After all, my friends make things, and they're beautiful (the things and the friends in this particular example). Some of them are complicated and technical (things) and all of them (both friends and things again now) are excellent. So it must just be me, and a secret workshop somewhere designated to create Crap Craft for resale in op-shops. Maybe I should go and work in that secret workshop. Maybe that's my true calling. My chance for redemption, for a meaningful life.
Or I could just sleep on it. After all, not every day can be a Monday.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Trojan Catholics Decimate Australian Defences
I blame the Catholics for the recession/depression (have we decided yet which it is? I've been wagging my current affairs sessions).
YES YOU HEARD ME! The Fracking Catholics.
It seems like no one is brave enough (a slight exaggeration: allowable under 'Creative Commons: Poetic Licence') to stand up to their "my invisible friend is bigger than you and your invisible friend" crap and tell the TruthTM.
Well here it is; the walls to the Australian economy were opened by World Youth Day 2008.
Oh Yeah. I went there.
The sub-prime crisis? The slowdown of China? Simply acts 2 and 3 to the opening volley fired by the Catholics.
Allow me toplagiarise a small section of David Marr's excellent essay "The Rise & Fall of 2008"(SMH Good Weekend 13Dec08) present some facts.
In July of 2008, after an agonisingly do-gooder buildup, Sydney was constipated by Catholics clogging the city's causeways (except that the City closed off hundreds of streets and asked all 9000 Cityrail staff to work all days). This catastrophic incursion had been anticipated in the possible millions, but only 223 000 turned up. Shame really, we'd catered for about 5 million, given the Randwick racecourse $42mill in venue hire fees (hope they threw in the PA for that!), set the 'annoyance laws' in place (that allowed for a fine of $5000 per offence) (until the full Bench found in July that these laws were invalid, but too late - they were current for the duration of the WYD event) and perhaps most generously (especially in light of other more token funding gestures), the State Government in a festive spirit despite the humbugs chipped-in towards the party with about $120mill.
Much as that's kinda annoying, that's not all of it.
Oh no. I mean, we could probably afford to host a party (let's see $120mill between 223k guests, that's about $538 per head. You get very noice entrees for that) but what we didn't see coming, was the biological attack. That's right, the dreaded Pilgrim Flu that washed through the city. Then? Then it mutated with the general Flu and spread throughout the country, taking down the people it struck for an average of 3 weeks.
I don't have any concrete idea what that ended up costing us, but sick leave in Australia this year came to nearly $27bill.
So, if you're shitted off about the economy right now or how crap Australian films are, or just pretty much in general (and who isn't?) then consider boycotting either Christmas or politicians (or both). After all, it is human nature to prefer to have someone to blame and it will make you feel better.
I feel better, don't you?
This rant presented with the support of a double shot of "Merlo Coffee: Blended, Roasted and Packed in Australia" (but not grown - don't get too excited) and by the letter C.
YES YOU HEARD ME! The Fracking Catholics.
It seems like no one is brave enough (a slight exaggeration: allowable under 'Creative Commons: Poetic Licence') to stand up to their "my invisible friend is bigger than you and your invisible friend" crap and tell the TruthTM.
Well here it is; the walls to the Australian economy were opened by World Youth Day 2008.
Oh Yeah. I went there.
The sub-prime crisis? The slowdown of China? Simply acts 2 and 3 to the opening volley fired by the Catholics.
Allow me to
In July of 2008, after an agonisingly do-gooder buildup, Sydney was constipated by Catholics clogging the city's causeways (except that the City closed off hundreds of streets and asked all 9000 Cityrail staff to work all days). This catastrophic incursion had been anticipated in the possible millions, but only 223 000 turned up. Shame really, we'd catered for about 5 million, given the Randwick racecourse $42mill in venue hire fees (hope they threw in the PA for that!), set the 'annoyance laws' in place (that allowed for a fine of $5000 per offence) (until the full Bench found in July that these laws were invalid, but too late - they were current for the duration of the WYD event) and perhaps most generously (especially in light of other more token funding gestures), the State Government in a festive spirit despite the humbugs chipped-in towards the party with about $120mill.
Much as that's kinda annoying, that's not all of it.
Oh no. I mean, we could probably afford to host a party (let's see $120mill between 223k guests, that's about $538 per head. You get very noice entrees for that) but what we didn't see coming, was the biological attack. That's right, the dreaded Pilgrim Flu that washed through the city. Then? Then it mutated with the general Flu and spread throughout the country, taking down the people it struck for an average of 3 weeks.
I don't have any concrete idea what that ended up costing us, but sick leave in Australia this year came to nearly $27bill.
So, if you're shitted off about the economy right now or how crap Australian films are, or just pretty much in general (and who isn't?) then consider boycotting either Christmas or politicians (or both). After all, it is human nature to prefer to have someone to blame and it will make you feel better.
I feel better, don't you?
This rant presented with the support of a double shot of "Merlo Coffee: Blended, Roasted and Packed in Australia" (but not grown - don't get too excited) and by the letter C.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Rancid World View
What an unutterably foul mood has descended upon me today. Bored, angry and spilling over with acidic derision for all the world has to offer.
No reason.
Perhaps because it's Monday, perhaps because there's days yet until I can play, and perhaps because I didn't get my own way with anything on the weekend.
What would be opposite of Rose Coloured Glasses? Turd Breath? This is beyond cranky pants and into Devil Diapers.
No reason.
Perhaps because it's Monday, perhaps because there's days yet until I can play, and perhaps because I didn't get my own way with anything on the weekend.
What would be opposite of Rose Coloured Glasses? Turd Breath? This is beyond cranky pants and into Devil Diapers.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Politics anyone? (Rated: MA)
Are you interested in politics? Well now, let me see if we agree what we're talking about here (English - such a sloppy language).
If we're talking about the bastard child of vigilante justice and corrupt management masquerading as leadership and patriotic paternalism, then yeah, we're probably on the same page, and my quick, accurate and honest answer is "no way". Am I addicted to it in the way of cheezy soaps and sleazy lying two-timing boyfriends - "way!".
It's my dirty secret, I don't think I'm worth a good life any more than the next sad, overweight, brain dead tv-addled moron. And I'm right. I get what I deserve, and I'm getting a lot of politics. And a new season of Biggest Looser - 6 nights a week. Alternated with "Big Brother". Right there in the juxtaposition of those two titles tells you all you need to know about the state of our country and it's info-tainment mindset. It's ok, you don't need to ask - yes I do feel dirty and hate myself for it. But that's the beauty of self-hatred, it's a perfect cycle, leading directly to self harm, self sabotage and indulgence in reckless behaviour - like reading the newspaper, watching the TV or just believing any guy when he says he'll call you.
I'm not even feeling especially bitter today, just bored with being bland, and sick up to the back pass with living in the suburbs. What fucking shit-holes we make for ourselves, and then squabble over the price of buying into them like sarky ill-mannered little rats. Ignorant, angry rats, gagging to hole-up somewhere and gnaw away at the wiring and stray dog kibble. Breeding as fast as we can so it's our bigoted, bored offspring tunneling away into the next natural area of our dwindling stockpile and roaming the streets bored and jacked up on cheap drugs and subsidised petrol looking for a new abuse to amuse for a few minutes. As long as it's not those icky fuckin rats from over the water. In the immortal words of Ms J: Fuck that shit.
Ex-xactly.
So, here I am. Sending out to you from the impacted colon of the arse of Australia. Since the Roman senate, politics has been about paying off the noisiest interests and distracting the dimmest or least powerful interests. The only fracture in this process at the moment - sport disappearing off the free-to-air. Bring back our circus! Riiiiiight. Not the creeping corporatisation of our public services, not the preventable diseases and deaths from reckless driving or the huge amount of money we as a country piss away in corrupt defence contracts or "lost" armaments, or the fact that our literacy levels are heading towards the same levels as Nelson's approval rating. No, we're pleasantly distracted by Guillard's haircut (or lack thereof) and the liberal party failing to grow a new head.
Well I don't have any answers. I'm part of the problem and I know it. I am disillusioned, cynical and fed-up. I've got more than half of my life in front of me - almost enough time to make sure that if I work 'hard enough' I can "self-fund" my decrepitude. Gee, thanks. It's not like I can even plan to do the reasonable thing and top myself when the time comes. That's been outlawed. Good thinking guys. And can anyone give a real reason for the criminalisation of self-responsibility in one's end days that isn't soft wet hand-wringing? No? I didn't think so.
I'm no more interested in politics than I am interested in the practise trepanning to relieve back-ache.
If we're talking about the bastard child of vigilante justice and corrupt management masquerading as leadership and patriotic paternalism, then yeah, we're probably on the same page, and my quick, accurate and honest answer is "no way". Am I addicted to it in the way of cheezy soaps and sleazy lying two-timing boyfriends - "way!".
It's my dirty secret, I don't think I'm worth a good life any more than the next sad, overweight, brain dead tv-addled moron. And I'm right. I get what I deserve, and I'm getting a lot of politics. And a new season of Biggest Looser - 6 nights a week. Alternated with "Big Brother". Right there in the juxtaposition of those two titles tells you all you need to know about the state of our country and it's info-tainment mindset. It's ok, you don't need to ask - yes I do feel dirty and hate myself for it. But that's the beauty of self-hatred, it's a perfect cycle, leading directly to self harm, self sabotage and indulgence in reckless behaviour - like reading the newspaper, watching the TV or just believing any guy when he says he'll call you.
I'm not even feeling especially bitter today, just bored with being bland, and sick up to the back pass with living in the suburbs. What fucking shit-holes we make for ourselves, and then squabble over the price of buying into them like sarky ill-mannered little rats. Ignorant, angry rats, gagging to hole-up somewhere and gnaw away at the wiring and stray dog kibble. Breeding as fast as we can so it's our bigoted, bored offspring tunneling away into the next natural area of our dwindling stockpile and roaming the streets bored and jacked up on cheap drugs and subsidised petrol looking for a new abuse to amuse for a few minutes. As long as it's not those icky fuckin rats from over the water. In the immortal words of Ms J: Fuck that shit.
Ex-xactly.
So, here I am. Sending out to you from the impacted colon of the arse of Australia. Since the Roman senate, politics has been about paying off the noisiest interests and distracting the dimmest or least powerful interests. The only fracture in this process at the moment - sport disappearing off the free-to-air. Bring back our circus! Riiiiiight. Not the creeping corporatisation of our public services, not the preventable diseases and deaths from reckless driving or the huge amount of money we as a country piss away in corrupt defence contracts or "lost" armaments, or the fact that our literacy levels are heading towards the same levels as Nelson's approval rating. No, we're pleasantly distracted by Guillard's haircut (or lack thereof) and the liberal party failing to grow a new head.
Well I don't have any answers. I'm part of the problem and I know it. I am disillusioned, cynical and fed-up. I've got more than half of my life in front of me - almost enough time to make sure that if I work 'hard enough' I can "self-fund" my decrepitude. Gee, thanks. It's not like I can even plan to do the reasonable thing and top myself when the time comes. That's been outlawed. Good thinking guys. And can anyone give a real reason for the criminalisation of self-responsibility in one's end days that isn't soft wet hand-wringing? No? I didn't think so.
I'm no more interested in politics than I am interested in the practise trepanning to relieve back-ache.
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