Sunday, July 05, 2015

Gay Marriage Liberal Party Style

“Sacred right of a man and a woman,” says Big Tony. “Why doesn’t the world get it?”

“What are we going to do! What are we going to do! What are we going to do?” shrieks Mincing Poodle Pyne.

“Why can’t we just tell the truth…” says Big Tony.

“I’m sorry?” says Angry Joe.

“What do you mean?” squeaks Poodle.

“You are not making any sense,” says Everyone-Is-Entitled-to-be-a-bigot Abetz.

“Say that again?” says Gerbil-of-a-Thing Joyce.

“Why do we have to say anything?” says I-Know-Nothing Morrison. “Keep it secret.”

“That our Lord and saviour says no to it,” says Big Tony. "It is an abomination according to god."

“No!” growls Angry Joe

“No!” yaps Poodle

“No!” says Everyone-Is-Entitled-to-be-a-bigot Abetz.

“No!” says Gerbil-of-a-Thing Joyce.

“No!” says I-Know-Nothing Morrison.

“Then why can’t we tell them it will increase terrorism?” says Big Tony.

“Nothing is working,” says Old Man Andrews.

“Cory’s bestiality reference didn’t fly,” says I-Know-Nothing-Morrison.

“The fad thing didn’t work either, no one is buying that,” says Angry Joe.

“I still think that children deserve the best start in life should work,” says Everyone-Is-Entitled-to-be-a-bigot Abetz.

"The security of knowing their biological parents and the diversity of male and female role models, no one is buying that now,” says Silver Fox Turnbull. “And please don’t trot out the polygamy thing again.

“So what can we say now?” asks Big Tony. “Now that America has gone and lets us down so badly.”

“The whole world is turning gay,” shrieks poodle. “What are we to do?”

“It’s not looking good,” says Big Tony. “The whole world is caving in.”

“Not in Asia,” says Everyone-Is-Entitled-to-be-a-bigot Abetz.

‘No, no, no, no, no, Asia hasn’t,” says Gerbil-of-a-Thing Joyce.

“Yes,” says Big Tony. “Give that a go. Asia isn’t buying it, so how can we be expected to.”

“I like it,” says Everyone-Is-Entitled-to-be-a-bigot Abetz.

“It might work,” shrieks Poodle Pyne.

“It’s good,” says Big Tony. “Asia, Asia, yes Asia, we’re going to go with that. Ar Ar Ar Ar Ar Ar.”

“They’ll see us as…” says Gerbil-of-a-Thing Joyce.

“A bigot,” says Everyone-Is-Entitled-to-be-a-bigot Abetz. “A bigot!”

“No, that will never fly,” says Gerbil-of-a-Thing Joyce.

“Can we link it to breast cancer,” says Everyone-Is-Entitled-to-be-a-bigot Abetz.

“We don’t want to look like bigots,” says Big Tony.

“Fixers,” shrieks Poodle.

“Rich,” Angry Joe calls out.

“Decadent,” says Gerbil-of-a-Thing Joyce. “They’ll see us as Decadent.

“Decadent. Ar Ar Ar Ar Ar Ar, I like it,” says Big Tony. “We can’t legalise poofs getting married because it will threaten our trading partners in Asia.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” says Silver Fox Turnbull.

“We’re going with that,” says Big Tony. “We’re going with that. Asia is the problem.”

Saturday, July 04, 2015

That explains it then

I was waiting for it. I wondered how long it would be before that murdered footy coach's son was said to have been on Ice when he stabbed his father. I think it took less than 24 hours, and there it was on the front of the news paper today. I am not even sure if it ever has to be proven, in our drama ridden society, I think it only has to be suggested.

Sage-like nod. "Did you hear the son was on ice." 

"Oh." Knowing look. Nod nod. 

(That explains it then)

Does that give us comfort, there is the explanation, or drama, that is the explanation, I'm not sure.

The big boogey men of the 21st Century.

The new catch phrases, that as a society we, seemingly, couldn't live without. I'm not sure if we have just become incredibly lazy, you know, something to do with the modern sound bite? Is it the dumbing down of society, everything gotten for its least cost. In an increasing technologically driven world we seem to only understand the 3 word slogan. Our pathological liar of a prime minister took it to a whole new level where it just had to be a slogan and it didn't even have to be true. All style and no substance, that is what will mark Tony Abbott's prime ministership, but I digress.

Anybody who is drug effected is on Ice.

Any act of a madman is a terrorist attack.

Anybody bitten by a dog was attacked by a pitbull.

Maybe, we always need the bad guy? Maybe, we always need the enemy? Maybe we need that to function as a society? Maybe we need that to feel safe. There is the danger and there are the people who are going to save us from that danger, clearly defined, today namely it is Tony Abbott and his police state. I am beginning to wonder.

Thursday, July 02, 2015

Terminally ill Martin Clunes.

We've got a new guy in our office who looks just like Martin Clunes, if Martin Clunes was terminally ill. It makes me chuckle whenever I see him, not because he is sick, as he isn't sick, well, not that I know of, but because he really does look like a skinny, underfed version of Martin Clunes. He has big jug ears, almost too big for his head, receding blond hair and a big smiley mouth. 

We often develop nick names for employees, just for when we talk about them, there's dancing boy, fat frankie, cutey bum - actually, I keep that one to myself - and ponytail. You can guess what his - um, in fact, I don't even know what his real name is, now that I think about it - nick name is, Skinny Martin. Actually, he gets the full monkier, Terminally ill Martin Clunes.

Wednesday, July 01, 2015

How hard is it to buy oil?

We'd walked to Victoria Street and done all the grocery shopping and we'd walked all the way home with bags in each hand. It is pretty much our Sunday routine now a days. He always complains about the weight of the bags, especially if I picked up my bags myself.

I can see him gazing at what I am carrying and I can almost see the mental calculations clicking over in his brain that he is making re the weight of each bag. Then he starts, “Um, I think you have lighter bags…”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, then you wont mind me testing them, will you?” 


I ask him if it has now become his game to fill the time on the walk home and he'll ask again if he can feel the weight of the bags I am carrying. So, I always let him do the bag distribution before we set off for home now otherwise he is impossible. He'll complain all the way home that I have the lighter bags to carry, otherwise.

The fact is that he won’t let us buy a trolley, either. Too nana, he says. “What are you, a pussy?”

This is despite the fact that we have sore hands, arms and backs by the time we make it home carrying those shopping bags and despite his complaining.


Finally, I sat back down at my computer to continue sorting out my poems. I’d sorted my poem workbook for April to June, so I could print them all. 70 something pages for the first 6 months of 2015. How do I get them all printed surreptitiously at work with Mazz and Kirin sitting close to the printer? Kirin doesn't care, she takes no notice, but since Mazz is a bit OCD she will sometimes want to know what I am doing . 

I’d finished off all of the poem fragments I’d had cluttering up the second half of my work book, so I’d decided to put them all on my blog, which completed the last 10 days of June. The last poem was a little weak, so I’d thought of some nonsense verses for it, I was keen to work on it. Sometimes I fancy myself as a modern day Dr Seuss, ha ha.

Then I remembered, around 5pm, after we'd done all of the shopping, that I’d promised Mazz I’d make her a chocolate cake to cheer her up. She's been stressing out over the huge number of hours she has put in for EOFY. She told me recently she is going to resign in a few months and head to Canada and the US to do some travelling.

“I was going to make Mazz a chocolate cake, I forgot,” I said to Santo. I shrugged. “Oh well, too late.”

“You could still make it,” said Santo. "You have plenty of time." My body ached at the thought.

“I guess I could.” I could. I would. I, essentially, promised her. I should, yes, I should. A promise is still a promise, no matter how comfortable you have got yourself late on a Sunday. Oh bugger it.

"You were supposed to say don't worry about it," I said.

Santo looked up giving me a look. "Off you go." He pointed towards the front door with his usual flourish of his wrist.

I’d done plenty of walking, Buddy, the shopping, so I decided to drive. Santo's eye brows raised when I said I was going to drive.

"You are going to drive to the shop?"

"Yes, I've done my exercise for the day."

I continued to get the raised eye brows.

"Do you want any thing?"

"Some oil, I want oil. If you are going to drive you can get me a large bottle." 

"Okay honey."

"Maybe some bread for my breakfast." Santo doesn't like cereal, so breakfast is always a little challenging for him.

It takes longer to back the car out than the actual drive itself. 1 minute, maybe, the car doesn't even warm up.

There was a 4 litre bottle of oil on special, but the shelf was empty. It was 25 cents per litre, or is that 100 grams? It is the standardised price, whatever that was, I don't know, but it sounded good. Just as I saw this, and the empty shelf, a young Woollies guy came around the corner.

“This oil that is on special has run out, would you have any more out the back?”

“Um, er, I don’t know.”

Not keen, I see. “Can you check?” I asked.

“I don’t think we’d have any, if it is on special.” He shook his head. I gathered the head shaking was referring to weather he was, actually, going to go and look.

Really not keen, I see! “Oh, well how do I find out?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I am not sure... Um, er...”

Goodness me, surely that is a relatively easy question. “Well, who does know?”

He looked unsure, or unwilling, I wasn’t quite sure what. We were at the end of the isle closest to all of the registers. He looked out to the main registers, kind of hopefully, as though the answer would come from divine intervention. He looked back at me. “Oh, um, the duty manager isn’t there.”

He looked blankly at me like he was really hoping that was the end of it. And then silence. There was a brief moment there where we both just gazed at each other. I wasn't expecting that to, effectively, be the end of the issue and I think he was rather hoping that it was. We seemed to both be waiting for the other person to make the next move.

Maybe, this was the moment we were both supposed to kiss. I nearly lost my train of thought with that, um, er, thought.

I see. This is like having teeth pulled. “Um, who could I ask?”

“Um, er…”

I'm sure that is not a difficult question. “Should I ask at the front desk?”

"Yes, yes. Ask at the front desk. You should ask at the front desk," he said.

I went to the front desk and asked one of the guys. He came back with me to the shelf where the oil should have been. I was now gazing at the empty shelf with the second Woollies employee. “Oh, um, I can check, but if it is on special it is very doubtful we’d have any out the back. I will check, but I can get you a rain check instead. Would you like a rain check?”

“I don’t know what a rain check is?” I said. I had a good idea what it sounded like from the name, but I’d never heard of it in a Woollies sense before.

“That is where you can come back another day and get the product for the special price.”

“Oh, no, I want the oil today?” You are not getting out of it that easily. I worked in a supermarket as my first job, you just have to go out to the store room and look on the pallet. It really isn't that hard.

So he called another guy who he sent out the back to check on the oil. So far this had taken 3 people and an inordinate amount of cake making time. It seemed like hard work, really it was beginning to feel like hard work. But I wasn't giving in.

I stood by the shelf and looked at the other oil. I had had a cursory check when I was first looking at the oil and the one on special had seemed as though it was the cheapest oil, but now I had time to wait I could see that the Homebrand oil was, in fact, cheaper. 22 cents per whatever the measurement was and its shelf was full. Oh well, there you go. It was just a pity I didn't have a better look to start off with, I'd probably be home by now. I’d take the cheaper oil on the shelf now and not want the special oil at all. What was the chance, I thought, that guy number 3 was going to appear with the "special" oil. How often do they, actually, have the product when it is on special? Oh stupid me, what a palaver that I could have avoided. Really, I am an idiot, I thought.

I stood for a while, people wandered past. I swapped from one foot to the other.

Eventually, I could see him coming back with a box of oil in his hand, out of which he produced a bottle and handed it to me.

“There you go,” he said looking triumphant.

"Thank you,” I said, as I took the oil and put it in my trolley. Oh well, there you go. I contemplated walking around a few isles and then coming back and swapping the oil, but what the hell. It seemed like it was my oil, the oil I was supposed to have.

I came home and made Mazz her chocolate cake. The cake will cheer her up, she will be pleased.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Now you know where Tony Abbott got his latest political strategy

...whether it is a democracy or a fascist dictatorship... voice or no voice... the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country.

Nazi, Hermann Göring

Monday, June 29, 2015

Saturday, June 27, 2015