Religious Discrimination Laws

You know what religious discrimination laws will do, they will make people hate Christians more. People already think Christians are lame with their lame ideas, and when the smart people see that the lame people have been given the power to legally be bigots, they are only going to hate the Christians for it. The laws are self defeating, they are going to make a situation where people have little regard for what Christians believe, other than pity and amusement, and turn it into a situation where people hate Christians for the special privileges they have unnecessarily had bestowed upon them.

What these laws really want achieve is to let Christians spout their nonsense unchecked, which is really what most Christians think they have a right to do, and to have no one disagree with them, or challenge them on their stupidity. Christians want the ability to continue to comment on anything and everything that has nothing to do with them, and have no one respond. And that, my friends, is not going to happen.

Sweating

Sweating like a bitch on my way to work. Why do bitches sweat so much? (I mean, have you ever wondered?) The back of my shirt is wet from sweat when I get to my office. It is so uncomfortable sitting in the aircon with wet cotton on your back. If only we had electric hand dryers in the bathroom, but we don't. (just paper towel, which I fully approve of, except when you get to your office all sweaty and need an electric hand drier to dry the sweat, having walked to the office in the morning)

What is with this crazy weather? Melbourne is not tropical, although you would believe otherwise with the weather this last week. 100 % humidity, or thereabouts, most day. I so get sick of being sticky. 

Oh yes, that little thing called climate change.

How can people not believe in climate change now, when you can step outside and experience it. (I know it is just an inconvenient truth for conservative commentators, but we’re not all trying to suck money out of the corporate machine?) I guess there will always be stupid people in the world. And people that a different agenda suits for various reasons, of course. But what about the sensible middle? What about those guys?

I don't really get the rich business men to which climate change is an impediment to business, they, and their children, are going to choke, fry and die with the rest of us, no amount of money is going to save them from that.

So, um, come on guys, lets save our only home before it is too late. I’m not sure why that previous sentence doesn’t ring true for more people. Our greatest threat to existence and we’re all collectively in denial, it is baffling.

 

Some mornings, half awake, you look up on the tram and you think good thing I didn't walk this morning, some times the tram has its advantages.

Don't You Hate The Pigs!

We took the dogs for a walk. We were on our way home, just crossing a street, when a car came roaring up [name of street]. I leant down and put my hand on Buddy’s harness just in case the car didn’t stop. When I could see the car was stopping, I pushed Buddy across the road in front of the car crossing next to him.

“Put your dog on a lead,” came a voice.

I spun on my heal and saw it was a copper in an unmarked car. “You should be giving away to pedestrians,” I said, the smallest part of me wondering as I said it whether I should be saying it.

“Put your dog on a lead.” He insisted, not interested in what I had to say.

Well, apparently, I wasn’t finished. “You should be going 40 kph.”

“Put your dog on a lead!” he said more forcefully. If I said he had the attitude of someone REALLY wanting to talk over me, I wouldn’t be exaggerating.

I turned away from him, thinking that I had probably said enough. His black Commodore screamed off at a million miles an hour… in a 40 kph zone.

I didn’t put Buddy on his lead, well, not for long.

Hey!

 

Hey ho! Come right in and make yourself at home

Mouse

 

Welcome. All creatures are welcome here. Come as you are, we will accept you for who you are

Dental Work

I had periodontal work done, the continuing saga of the disaster that is my teeth.

Actually, my teeth are fine, never had a filling, but my gums are crap, that must be a certain type of irony? Is it from far too many years of smoking? Maybe? Some dental professionals do, indeed, push that line. (Many years ago I went to a hygienist who I had to stop seeing because she got increasingly angrier and angrier with each visit when I continued to smoke)

The dental work was fine. First there is a numbing gell, then big needles inside and out. After that all just feel is scraping, and scratching, and hacking, and wrenching. You don’t actually feel any of it, you just experience the movement these things cause. Then the tread from the stitches fell across my face as he stitched my gums back together.

But now I can’t talk.

Sam made me a soft lunch.

I just tried to rinse my lunch out of my stitches. I took a mouthful of water from a glass, which is difficult in itself, then as I attempted to swill it around my mouth, the water shot out the side of my mouth and across the coffee table because I can't feel if my mouth is closed, or not.

Boohoo.

Three hours later, the aesthetic has worn off and it is all beginning to hurt.

Barking Dog

I'm home sick with a cold. The gay guys up the road, 4 houses away, have chosen today to leave their dog in their back yard and it has chosen today to bark non-stop.

Grrrrr!

It is barking incessantly. I am not exaggerating. I want to kill it.

I'm now lying here thinking it wouldn't be hard to get to their back yard and open their roller door. Three of our yards are open to each other, a leftover from when all us neighbours were friends, but we're the only ones left. I'd only have to climb one fence, the gay guy’s fence. It wouldn't be so hard. Push the roller door button, off you go, problem solved.

Oh, could you imagine. They probably wouldn’t ask us, but I am guessing we get to hear about it.

“You dog got out, oh that is terrible.”

“Yes, we’re distraught.”

“Any ideas how?”

“No, it is a mystery.”

Mystery, indeed.

Too Much?

I haven’t been to work for five days, and I’m kind of liking it, and I do, actually, have a sore throat, so I have my sick leave email written, “Suspected coronavirus, won’t be in.” 

Nyr. I've just got a cold. But, you know, you should always take advantage of all the arrows you have in your quiver.

Too much?

And taking a sick day - I mean, I am sick, and you, probably, should stay home when you are sick [but, am I five days sick? Um? Er?] - is a bit like chocolates, it's very hard to stop at one.

 

Flowers for Kobe Bryant. I don't even know who he is, to be honest? I know he is some kind of successful sports star, who died tragically. The people who loved him, loved him. It seems like he was pretty driven, from many accounts. Still, these flowers are pretty, and it seems like they should be dedicated to someone.

Grl!

 

Grl!

Genies and Bottles

If you do dodgy things, keep it to yourself. (my bulldog licking my elbow at this point is not helping the writing process) If there are dishonest practises in which you indulge, participate, don’t admit to them. Nobody wants to hear the tut tut tut. Such admissions only bring criminals undone, open the gates to karma. (Ha ha that is funny if you know my beliefs on karma. Same with being threatened with hell, does nothing to scare an atheist) It is just not good form. 

You are more likely to get caught, as people love to dob other people in. It panders to their inflated sense of right. (So often, though, it applies to everyone else but themselves) 

You know, if you steel money from your dementia affected grandma’s handbag, or take sweets from the slow child next door, none of which I do (sly smile), what is the point of making it public knowledge, it is only going to give fuel to some nosey narrow minded fool. Be pleased with yourself, you have made it this far, keep mum. 

I thought this the other day when I was doing one of the two things I do, with the second of the things I do in the bag in my hand. You are clever enough to get away with it, now be just as clever to enough keep it to yourself. 

I was going to write the truth of it on here, but then I decided nobody wants to be confronted with that, just calm your yap, I told myself. I mean, none of you would be in a position to do anything about me and my dodgy (it sounds so much nicer than dishonest, don’t you think?) practices, but once I have put it out there in the public domain, who knows what might happen. You know, genies and bottles, who knows where it leads?

I seldom have the urge to confess, I have the great ability to keep secrets to myself without ever having the need to tell anyone. So I don’t know what I was thinking.

Where To Look

 

It was hard not to look

The human race is fucked

A Nasty Business

Wilson Gavin and his bunch of right wing cronies stormed a drag story time imposing their warped views on everyone present, after which he received a barrage of criticism for his actions, and rightly so. Then he killed himself. Yes, that is terribly sad. But, he still stomped all over something pure and innocent. He still pissed all over a mother's right to parent her children. He still sprayed poison all over people who didn’t deserve it. Wilson Gavin is not the victim here, he is the perpetrator. He's become the victim, but let's not forget who his victims were.

The Golden Age

The zenith of human civilisation came in the late 1950s, the car fins tell the story. Take a look at the 1959 Cadillac, Chevrolet, Plymouth. 1959 was the pinnacle of everything the human race has achieved in the history of time. The golden age. (the end of the Golden Age) 1959 was the top of the mountain.

1959. Sixty years ago, when everything that glistened was, in fact, gold, you know, different to today when it is tin being passed off as something special by the marketing department.

And we have been going backwards ever since. A slow and gradual decline, to today where we have our fingers in our ears and we are screaming “LA LA LA LA LA LA,” louder and louder as each Antarctic ice shelf breaks off and disappears forever.

But, back in 1959, car fins were this big. (Arms held out as wide as one can go) mum and dad were all smiles, at least on the surface, and opportunities were boundless for little Johnny and little Jane, well Jane, not so much, when they left school and entered the world. As long as you were white, middle class and heterosexual, life was a dream.

We all left on a jet airliner, dazzled by its brilliance.

Barbie was born, for god sake.

We first see Mr Squiggle.

The Mini is launched.

Bonanza and plain paper copies are launched.

It was the year the music died.

We enter the twilight zone.

Pantyhose are launched.

Skirts were full, jeans were narrow, morals were high, or at least they were seen to be.

That was when the sun shone and the days smelled like peach ice cream.

The pinnacle of the civilisation mountain.

And, the first HIV death. Is that symbolic of society being infected…

It has been a gradual shit show ever since. The rich have seen to that. Planned obsolescence, greater inequality, starvation, famine, hate. Wars to sell ammunition. People collateral damage to the wealthier.

The golden age passed years ago, and we have been scrambling for a better existence ever since.

And now we have ever start to regress. Climate change denial, anti vaxxers, flat earth's, support for authoritarian politicians, let’s face it, even vinyl records, we're going backwards. We are going backwards. we are de-evolving. We're like the Tasmanian Aboriginals, we are losing the art of making fire. (even if the Tasmanian aboriginals didn’t lose the art of fire, it is too good a metaphor to pass up)

We are now denying our demise on a global scale. We are now at the beginning of the end.

Our parents and grandparents saw the best the world had to offer.

For the first time, future generations are going to have lesser lives than the generations that came before them.

Religious Discrimination

So, the religious discrimination laws? More flawed governing from this government, especially since, now correct me if I am wrong, their own enquiry said such laws weren’t needed. Of course, that isn’t what the self righteous wanted to hear. So, even from the outset, the perception is that these laws are coming from a place of bitterness, which comes from the place of thought that a certain group of people got privileges that go against the rules by which it is thought they should live.

So, what are these laws going to do? Laws that set the means by which one group can discriminate against another group. How well has that worked for all of us in the past? Do they (by they, I mean the people passing these laws into, well, law) think the group being discriminated against is going to say, “Oh, okay, rightio, if that is how it is going to be? Fair enough?” You know, because history is full of situations where that has occurred.

What do they think is going to happen? Is this more legislation from a government that doesn’t think? (Morrison’s, Abbott’s, Joyce’s, Andrew’s, Christensen’s, Hastie’s electorates all voted yes to marriage equality)

What are these laws going to do? Bring peace and harmony to the nation? I think not. I would suggest that can’t be found in historic events.

Smooth the relationship between the two groups, the newly legislated oppressors and the newly legislated oppressed? Again, not what I would expect.

How do you think it is going to go? The newly oppressed group has just come through a particularly difficult time in their history where large numbers of their members died, a time where the perception of the newly legislated oppressors was that a significant number of them didn’t care. And now this government is going to give that group the ability to discriminate. Couple that with the fact that the newly oppressed group ranks amongst its members some really vicious queens.

So… we’re heading towards an end well lived for all?

I have a colleague who I have found mildly annoying since she started work. And that is mostly because she is a talker. Oh. Dear god (do you like how I use god ironically?) shut up! And to a lesser extent, because she has that mindless positivity going on, you know, the type that the religiously deluded have. Funnily enough, we had a change of office, and she was moved closer to me, and I have found that I like her, not least of all because she says I make her laugh. Well, recently, she told me about her devout Christian faith and I could feel my hackles rising immediately. You know, old habits die hard when you are suddenly confronted with the enemy. I said nothing, of course. But you know, if someone like that took the religious discrimination laws as a free pass to say bigoted things, I don’t care what laws Scotty from marketing passes, I wouldn’t keep my mouth shut. At work, or not at work, I don’t care.

So logically what are these laws going to do? They are going to set us up for war, that is what they are going to do. You can’t really come to any other conclusion.

This is more legislation that the Morrison govt hasn’t fully thought through, and that is because they don’t want to think it through, because that is not the aim of these laws.

Boyfriends and Bulldogs

Boyfriends

Bulldogs

Bananas

Batteries

Beauty

Baked goods

Bitches, the clever ones

Blancmange, the non human kind

Bristols, the cars not the girls

Bonbons

Best friends

Blossom

Bicycles

Bratwurst

Bluntness

Bees making honey

Buick’s from 1950

Beetles, of the VW variety

Butterflies

Bonfires

Boardwalks

Bookcases

Backgammon

Blogs

Belgium pastries

Blue jeans

Bloke’s bums

Boggle

Brilliance

Blissful

Bohemian

Bouquets

Bungalows

Bumper stickers

Bill of Rights

Boxer shorts

Breathtaking

Bunnies

Brunettes

Banter

Best men

and

Buggery

Bush Fires vs the Conservative's Misinformation

Does it really matter how the fires started, I am sure they start the same way every year. I don't get the point of the misinformation of arsonists? The point of it being climate change is that 10 million hectares, and rising, has burned this year, and at an intensity never seen before. Fires have burned equally through load reduced areas as non-load reduced areas. Fires are starting now in winter, or the non fire season. Rain forests that have never burned before are now burning for the first time, as are other areas that have never burned before. 95% of climate scientists predicted this would happen, and now it is happening. The evidence is irrefutable, from where I am looking at it.

Joyous Statues

Can't you hear the music? Can you see them dancing? 

Purple Flower in the Morning Light

What glorious colours, just beautiful

My Present Fascinations

One of my favourite things at the moment is iced water, because ice makes water zing. It is the best thing. It is the basis of life, after all. It changes what is kind of a boring drink to something thrilling. In the summer, water and ice. You don't have to get any fancier than that. Don't need lemon, don't need bubbles. Just water the way it comes naturally, warm climate and cold climate, contained in some mineral altered sand, glass. (I still have no idea how that happens) Gulp, gulp, gulp, and it all slides down so easily. Just like that, sparkling, as in crystal clean, all the way. Gorgeous.

And lying out flat on the floor, is my other favourite thing. There is something about the firmness of the floor, the solidness perhaps, that relaxes me like nothing else can. It is comforting and chilling (as in chilling out, not a zing up the spine, you understand), it's like meditating, flat out. Maybe it is getting in touch with the plane of the earth, you know, a longitudinal thing. Infinity, maybe. It is how one feels infinity in a physical sense. As far as one can see and feel in any direction is intersecting within. Right on the spot on which you lay? Maybe? Centripetal forces of our souls. Our natural internal hum. Laid out, stretched out, chilled out, passed out, no, not passed out, relaxed… out.

My favourite things, that is, that are not my boyfriend, or my bulldogs. They always take number 1 and number 2 spots, a permanent placement, you may say, I might say.

Rose in the morning sun, which looks like it's pulsing with colour

Write Something...

So, write something. New Year’s resos. Write something every day, that’s the target. A writer writes. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the days have been gorgeous this year, every one of them, without exception, count them. One, two, three. (Okay, so the acrid smoke smell in the air kind of spoiled it this afternoon, but it was lovely up until then) We've been blessed, with good food, fine weather, and a life many people of the world would want. (Inner city, especially, you know, where I live, the country, nyr, not so much) I so promised, if only to myself, never to use meaningless platitudes, oh well. It being ‘meaningless’ means it is doubly awful. Still, the days have been lovely. (Fires, withstanding)

We've sat around all the holidays and have done very little. We were hampered by the little guy's op and his period of confinement. Still, we took to doing nothing with great ease. More sleep was the New Year’s reso, I have done that with gusto, I am a fucken champion of the sleep, lulled good night, day or night, by the warm air of summer, close your eyes and dream.

We've taken the big guy to the dog park, of course. It doesn't seem to matter to him that the little guy isn't joining us, and I thought the two of them were buds.

I've been reading the online news, as if that wasn't a recipe for wanting to off yourself. Well, not so much death by one's own hand, as death by boredom. Just about everything is click-bait, written for its maximum dramatic affect. Not so much reasoned, sensible debate, or comment. I ache for a good story.

Laughing. Oh, I laugh easily and often. Sam and I do. Everything is the basis for humour. A dark sense of humour is a gift, something special, you can find something funny about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. Laughter is the best medicine, you know, they say that.

Eat. Come on pig boy, or you fat slag, shove it in your mouth, you know you want to. Stuff it in, shove it down, your arse hasn't got the size of a football filed by accident, there is no mystery there. And everybody gives chocolate as Xmas presents.

Write, read, sleep, laugh, eat and a big fuck off to all the stupid people. That's 2020 in a nutshell.

Oh yes, and hope for the best. Let’s hope, because looking at what is happening with the climate around the world, all we have now is hope.

Gotta Luv the Holidays

Sam’s making a point of not (us) having any dope (this holiday season). Oh yes, how very high road of you Sam, I think. (my boyfriend is bossy, yes he is) How very morally superior. Shrug. You know he has never said no to a joint when offered, however… and that should just mean more for me, but no dope means none for me too. Sad face. Eh! It is probably best, I end up dumb-faced and retarded… oh, um, delayed, diminished. No, it’s true. Reductive, as per Madge Ciccone. Reduced. And, you know, after all these years, it feels reductive now.

But we haven’t been doing much anyway, thanks to Brun’s recovery from his operation.

The weather has been bloody glorious, perfect in every sense. You couldn’t ask for better.

I was going to ride my bike every day, but I haven’t got it out of the shed once.

And here it is nearly Friday and the holidays are nearly over yet again for another year. Sad face. The days have sparkled like diamonds, the sky has been the most gorgeous blue, everything has been fresh and alive, renewed for the new year. And life is good.

2020

2020, the hindsight year?

Or, is that, the seeing clearly ahead year?

Yeah, probably not either, hey? It will probably just be more of the same. Heading towards our predictable demise as vested interests obfuscate the truth for what end? I'm not really sure. No matter how much money you have, or how wealthy you can claim to be, the SS Human Race is on the 25 degree tilt, the orchestra is still playing, sure, but the waters of demise are lapping at the rich man's feet as equally as the poor man's feet, more and more.

New Years resolutions, I guess they are just the same as always. Read more, write more, sleep more, laugh more, eat more (Less, that one should be less) love more, and tell more stupid people to fuck off more.

Be more.

Happy New Year

We stayed home, watched the Songs of the Decade concert on Sydney Harbour on teev.

I fell asleep on the couch and Sam had to wake me up in time for midnight. 

Partay!!!!!!

We covered Buddy and Brun's ears during the fireworks.

We were in bed pretty soon after the new year began.

Happy New Year.

The World Is Full Of Idiot Drivers

I realise that I am a whiny little bitch behind the wheel.

“The only. Person’s ears you are making bleed are mine,” Sam tells me all the time.”

But how can you not be, I say in my defence, when there are so many god damn fuckwhits on the road who seem to have fluked it for a licence. OMG! So many stupid people behind the wheel of a car. Idiots.

“What are you doing?”

“It is 50 kilometres an hour, not 20, you fool.”

“This one is clearly on their phone.”

“Stop talking and drive your bloody car!”

“Go around them, go around them, I could drive a fucking bus through the space you have.

“Why have they stopped in the middle of the road. Why? It is mindboggling.”

“OMG! Your car has blinkers, why don’t you try using them.”

I blame the reduced speed limits. There are now so many different speed limits, coupled with speed camera technology, coupled with fear pervading modern society, that everyone defaults to 20 kphs just to be safe.

And, let's just note, that ever since reduce speed limits have been introduced, road deaths and pedestrian deaths have risen dramatically. I'm not saying that reduced speed limits contribute to road fatalities, but it does make it plainly obvious that reduced speed limits do nothing to stop road deaths.

Post Op

What can you do when it is 43 degrees? It is hot at 43 degrees, I kind of like it, none the less, but it is very hard to get motivated to do anything physical. An air conditioned car helps. It is time to stay indoors and keep still.

I was hungry by lunchtime, but Sam said he was still full from breakfast, so I had sardines on toast. But sometime later, not long after, Sam was hungry and he made red berry smoothy ice cream, which was followed by a mountain of spring rolls.

“This is the strangest lunch I think I have had in some time,” I said to him. Maybe it was the heat?

We were picking up Brun at 1pm, but the surgeon called and said he was still a bit puffy, so he wanted to keep him until 3pm.

We left just before 2.30pm to pick Brun up. It was 43 degrees as we approached the vet’s rooms in [name of suburb].

And then there was our little guy, his head in a cone collar, which he has to wear for 10 days. (that will be fun) The final price was the original quote minus the other two things we won’t deleted in full. The special deal on aesthetic, which wasn’t a special deal at all, seemed to have been discarded. I’m not sure why? Sam seemed to think it was my cool demeanour as I was discussing it with the surgeon, that got us over the line. With our deductions. I don’t remember feeling anything like cool. I just gave it my best shot, which didn’t seem like it had any affect at the time.

It was hot driving home. Brun tried to climb through the buckets seats as he want to do.

Buddy rushed over as soon as he saw Brun, and he and Brun sniffed conspiritually. “What happened? Oh, I see. You were taken in where? I see. Really? What on earth. By these two clowns? (head flick in our direction) They did what? Yes, yes, oh. Really? That’s got to hurt, however you look. At it.”

Brun had trouble with the logistics of his cone with his head being 3 times as big as normal. Buddy barked at him on and off. Brun is still a bit out of it really. Poor him.

We headed to the bedroom and turned on the air conditioning with both bulldogs.

Sam fed the dogs in our bedroom.

We came downstairs after the cool change around 7pm. We ate creamy pasta for dinner.

We played with conehead for a while. Buddy continued to rush at Brun barking at him. Scardy cat Buddy gets triggered by odd and unusual noises. Scrape, scrape, went the cone on the furniture, the walls, the doorways, the cupboards, the floor, our calves, just about everything really.

“Bark, bark,” woofed Buddy. “You are freaking me out, freaking me out, I tell you.”

Deluded Rantings

Barnaby Joyce ranted on about there being a higher power which we ignore at our peril.

Which bit? Not eating shellfish? Wearing clothes made from mixed cloth. The bit about drunkenness being a sin. Or not cheating on your wife?

Which bit shouldn’t we ignore, Barnaby?

So, god created the world, then he waited 800 million years before he got us to kill his son to save us from the sins that he created in the first place. (A bit like the discounted aesthetic, kind of self serving) Completely, unhinged nonsense which can best described as a kind of state sanction infanticide. Or, as is really the case, the end point of thousands of years of Chinese whispers that started off as the mutterings of illiterate cave dwellers who didn't know the world existed beyond what they could see in front of them.

You know, if Barnaby Joyce wasn't in such a position of power, dare I say hypocrite, he'd be funny. A character of mirth and scorn. If you wrote that stuff nobody would believe you.

Brun's Op

Sam woke me up at 6am, he and Brun were coming back from downstairs. “Wake up.” We all had to get up. Brun was having airway surgery, a preventative procedure, pretty much. We had to head off to the vet as soon as we could. The vet opened at 7am.

7am. We left home, heading to [name of suburb], across town.

It was a glorious morning, down the highway in the Peugeot, windows open, 24 degrees, road practically empty. My favourite morning ever, just perfect. The Peugeot roared to life and accelerated beautifully from every set of lights. The highway was so empty it was like our own race track. A Subaru WRX, a VW Golf GTI and a Volkswagen Polo GTI, both white, were keeping up with us. It was fun. I felt alive. Good driving more so than fast driving, although fast too. We’re all too namby pamby, yes sir, three bags full, just ripe to be made a police state, to drive over 40 fuken kph now-days. Sometimes it is nice to let go, live a little, hair down, engines reving.

7.35am. We left Brun at the vet, the nurse took him by his lead and he followed obediently. He didn’t look back.

We had to get a new quote, as Brun wasn’t being de-sexed and there was a couple of scans we weren’t having done from the original quote. $235 for the former and $380 for the latter, off a quote of $2400. The new quote only dropped off $100, the reason being that in the original quote, arguably “the standard deal”, the aesthetic had been discounted, in the new quote it was not discounted, so that put the price up. The surgeon was asked to call us and explain. He gave the same explanation, in his best business like tone, and it made no real sense. The discounted aesthetic was just a decision they made, it bore no relation to what aesthetic was used. Presumably, Brun was only going to be put to sleep once, no matter which quote we accepted.

My response to the surgeon was, “Well, that makes no sense to me at all, roll of the eyes, what could we do, if that is what the price is, okay.” What could I say? He said it had all been explained to me, but the explanation I got wasn’t that, not that at all. I won’t bore you with the details now.

Brun would be ready to be picked up early in the afternoon.

9am. We’re at [name of cafe] having breakfast with Buddy. Neighbour, Jackson Wag stopped by, saying he couldn’t stay otherwise he’d have an exploding coffee pot situation at home, and then he stayed anyway. Kodak and his owner, also stopped for a chat, but the fact we were eating by then hurried them away again. Kodak’s owner is impossibly cool, I’m sure we all wished we were as cool as he. The nice lady from over the road wanted to know where the baby was? And a puppy called Tully, who Buddy sniffed encouragingly, stopped to eat at the next table.

‘Good puppy, well done,’ was Bud’s attitude.

It was lovely sitting out in the fresh morning air and the sunshine before the day got too hot. It was predicted to be 43 degrees today. It was nice to be out in it before it got to that. Sure.

Xmas Lunch

Okay, today was the Fletcher family Xmas lunch, what there is left of it now that mum and dad are dead and their grandchildren have all grown up, at my sister’s place in the country. Xmas is for kids. Getting together is nice though. I have to say that, it is expected, after all. No, it was nice.

It was going to be lovely in Melbourne 29 degrees, but 38 in [name of country town], not so lovely. The bulldogs had to stay home, first Xmas they have missed ever, 38 degrees is too hot for them. It would have been Brun’s first.

We took David’s car. We’ve been looking after it while he has been faffing about trying to sort out his life. I promised him I’d keep the battery charged, so a run to the country was just the ticket.

Lunch was nice. I think Gill and Grant went to the least amount of trouble in the years they have been doing Xmas lunch. Gill said she had had four Xmas lunches, which may explain it, she said she had enjoyed Xmas a lot. But, maybe, that was the booze. I can’t help but think ours got the last priority, hence the date.

My brother and his wife were there. Xmas is the only time I see them. They bought presents for everyone, apparently, they didn’t get the memo. My sister in law lives to shop.

Two of the four nieces were there, my sister’s kids. I don’t know where the other two were, I didn’t ask, I guess I should have. Nyr!

It was… um… interchangeable with other years, but, Xmas is a bit like that, now isn’t it. I didn’t give presents, I adopted a koala instead. [Well, that was what I said I did, and I have every intension, I just haven’t done it yet]

It was certainly hot.

We were home early in the afternoon and I slept on my own couch.

Out For Lunch With Clean Pups

We washed the dogs and then went out to find an outdoor café at which to have lunch, where they could air dry and we could eat. We went to a place just around the corner for the first time, as it is very popular, always busy. We were going to walk further, but they had a free table, and we thought why not? We squeezed into a table in amongst their crush of small tables, which I thought was too small for us, but Sam was keen and nobody said they minded when I asked before we sat down. The café staff said how pleased they were that we were there. They see us and the bulldogs walk past every day, and this was the first time we stopped to eat. 

“Is this your first time?”

“Yes,” we said.

“Lovely,” said the waiter.

The sniffy French woman, eating with her handsome husband and child in a high chair, at the next table, got all cat’s bum when one of the dogs got too near to her. I know I should care, but really, Buddy and Brun were pretty quiet, so she had little reason to complain. (not that she did complain, actually, she said nothing, but she drew in breath and gave it big eyes, we got looks, sweetie. Not too hard to decipher) We kept the dogs away from her in the cramped small space as best we could. 

People continually stopped to say hello. Our neighbours, dog people from the park stopped by addressing Buddy and Brun by their names. 

“Which one is the baby, I can’t tell anymore.”

Everybody seems to know the names of our bulldogs. It left the sniffy French lady with little room to complain, frown, whatever. Brun and Buddy were well behaved, just pimping for pats from each passer-by, otherwise lying out on the footpath.

She had a husband worth looking at, though.

The coffee was terrible.

The food was average. Mine was a bit weird. Salmon, potato, cabbage, dry wafer, beetroot. Sam had a burger, with chips inside it. Why do they do that now? It’s a ‘thing.’

I was never really sure why they were instantly popular, as they were and I am still none the wiser. Apparently, they had another popular eatery someplace else, and the reputation just transferred.

Then we came home.

Sam kicked me off the PlayStation VR telling me I was hopeless, after encouraging me to use it, talking me into it, even.

Buddy lay at my feet.

We ate curry leftovers for dinner.

We watched Kevin Hart series documentary, Kevin Hart: Don't Fk This Up.

Holidays. 😬

Karma

Karma doesn't exist, not because bad things don't happen to bad people, but because not enough bad things happen, and too many bad things happen to good people.

I mean, look at the world.

Karma implies there is an order to this thing, there is not.

And, of course, too many "bad" people – not, generally, my judgement – who get away with "it". Just look at it, as they say, ad infinitum, in these troubled times, (no, I don't have a news service to sell) the troubled times in which we live, all the people who are doing bad shit...

There is no logic to Karma, it may make some people feel better, and that's okay, but call it that. A panacea for our fear. A placebo for the masses.

It really is just a hangover from all the religious nonsense, we haven't quite shaken off the coat of Christianity, or whatever hand-me-down fairy tale your parents have lumbered you with, which you have to unlearn.

The Day After Xmas

Boxing Day, the bridesmaid's day. Never the main event. Always the afterthought. Forever the exhale. The loosening of the belt. The sit down. The sigh. The step back. The stop.

The day the present givers get to reward themselves for presents well bought during the December present giving festival, the modern meaning of Xmas.

Another present festival completed for another year. It is what we all live for now-a-days; presents, food, and then holidays until the new year starts again. And we can repeat it all again, reboot, as this is the day it all, really, starts again – officially January 1st.

So, we pimp it out and pump it up and give everyone an excuse to spend more, what else could say Xmas so precisely, than an orgy of spending and consumerism?

Spend up people, it is the new normal.

The Princess Margaret of days, always the consolation prize. Never the real thing. Enjoy. Like Margaret did. She got to take pills, and drink booze and fuck Mick Jagger, because she meant nothing.

Happy Xmas

Cancer, Sweetie.

Our friend David (David M. Pretentious David, not lovely David, David C) has had a long time boyfriend, Harry de Wit, who is just so full of himself, so opinionated and really just rude to people. He is obnoxious. Yes, that is a good description of him, loud and obnoxious. He took a dislike to me, I have no idea why? (smiley emoji) And he blanked Jill out very early on due to some imagined slight about not being invited to some party at some stage early in the relationship. 

So, as you can guess, we have never really liked him that much. We refer to him as the poisonous one.

Sam and I went to visit our friend Rachel, who has remained friends with David & Harry de Wit, yesterday at her place in the country. We drank tea we ate chocolate chip biscuits and had a look at how her renovations are coming along.

As we were leaving, Rachel told us that Harry had been unwell. My ears pricked up.

"Really?" Do tell. I hoped it was serious.

So, I thought to myself, the poisonous one is finally being poisoned by "her" own poison, now there’s a surprise. "She" holds grudges so tightly, and hate so fondly, there is a palpable bitterness about "her", so it is no surprise to me "she" has broken out somewhere giving "herself" “the boils.”

I sent a message to Jill today.

Good news about the poisonous one, cancer.

Rachel told me he's had bladder cancer.

"Oh, really, that's a tough one to survive," I say. I wondered what the survival rate is?

"He's just got his 12 month results, so hopefully…"

"Hopefully," I repeat, not daring to have anything but a straight face. And I thought to myself, funny, your hopefully and my hopefully are hopeful for different outcomes.

I think Rachel said he was sharing his results with her at afternoon tea.

Cross your fingers, I thought.

You are terrible, replied Jill.

* usual disclaimer applies, nothing I say, or think, will affect the poisonous bitch's health outcome in any way.

Eating Themselves

Apparently, people across the world are voting conservative possibly due to three things, 9/11, the world financial crisis, and the wave of refugees across Europe, all things, arguably, cause by conservative politics.

No Meaning, No Boundaries

Existence is meaningless, moral codes worthless, and grandma's God is as dead as Grandma. And it is liberating.

Concentrate on the now, because nothing else matters, and enjoy what you are doing.

The only thing that is true is that you are skidding towards death, so lighten the fuck up and have a look around as you slide.

There is no ever after, this is it.

All that is required is that you try your best. Be true to yourself. That one may take a life time, and maybe that is the point. Probably being kind will go a long way to happiness. Enjoy the ride, because the ride is the meaning. It’s the doing that is the reward. 

Otherwise, life is pointless, so let go and enjoy.

The (dyslexic) nazis are coming, er, too late they are already here (running the joint, Heir Scumo and his lying Storm Troupers, criminalising journalists, and shutting down opposing voices). 

The Buddhists are coming, and they are drunk.

Lovely Red Flowers, just look at that red

The Stupid Will Inherit the Earth

So, the British just voted overwhelmingly for the conservative politicians who caused the whole damn political mess in the first place, arguably for their, and the wealthy's, benefit.

The stupid really are inheriting the earth.

Religious Nonsense

Speaking of the stupid inheriting the earth, the Morrison Government's religious discrimination laws will allow, amongst other things, 

On Social media - An office worker could declare on social media that a fellow employee is in a wheelchair because they are sinful and urge them to attend a faith healer. The workplace inclusion policy would be overridden by such a “statement of belief” and any action taken against the offender could be appealed to the Human Rights Commission as “religious discrimination” (Just Equal).

This is the contemptible insanity the Morrison Government is proposing to make lawful.

Fluff On The Dog

You know your cleaning skills are questionable when you see bits of debris from your life stuck to the dog, as he walks passed.

The Teskey Brothers sing.

Pour Cousin

Hip Hop is for those who can't cut it in R&B circles 

It is the opportunity for the less talented. Just as Rap is an opportunity for the non-talented.

Friday Morning

I was up early, 7am, so not so early, but to be truthful, I am always up early, now a days. Morning seems to have become my thing.

7.30am. Joint and coffee, it is freezing outside.

8am. Joint and coffee, it is freezing outside.

You know, just to ease me into my morning off.

8.38am. Sam saunters on to set like Gina Lollobrigida, (not at all sure where that analogy came from) throwing orders and sweeping down to pick up Brun’s bowl, before sweeping back inside.

“Honey, honey, honey,” I say. 

“Don’t you honey me. Look at you! First thing in the morning. Look at you! First... thing... in... the... morning."

What gave it away, I think? Was it the eyes? I almost giggle at that thought, but I don’t. Not now. I laugh on the inside.

He's working from home until further notice. (Asbestos scare at work. Hip inner city warehouse conversion. "Everybody get out." That was the answer they got to the investigation of the white dust falling from the ceiling)

So, I have to share my days off. Hopefully he heads upstairs, so I can get back out to the table on the back veranda. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

Reflection

The end of the parliamentary year is a moment of reflection, and there is not much to show for six years of Coalition government. With drought and wildfire ushering in a frightening summer, the economy floundering and banks gone rogue, something near panic about China, schools going backwards, and sorry revelations from royal commissions underway into aged care and disability (and possibly a inquiry into veterans’ suicides inquiry)

The Morrison government was “working to make this future even better”. These words, the siren song of conservative optimism, but are without a good news story to back it up. Deny, deny, deny seemingly the order of the day. So Morrison falls back on his trademark bluster.

Morrison axes departments. The Canberra Bubble eating itself.

Just Rearranging My Days

I kidded myself there for a moment, that I would go into work tomorrow, but that is now looking highly unlikely.

Don't worry, I am essentially just changing my days. Just one  day  sick, I made up a day. Nah. Bullshit.

Yeah... nah. I can't see it.

I hope not much work pilled up while I have been away.

I had it organised since last week when Sam let it slip that he was going away this week, when he was making a doctor's appointment, and he was struggling to find a date.

Still Sick

Email to my boss, I'm still sick, banged out and fired off without a seconds hesitation, not a care in the world. Unashamed.

I'm lying on the couch, when I can wrestle it away from Buddy, watching Netflix and YouTube on the teev, drinking coffee and eating far too much bread.

Cuddling up with Brun, he is a cuddly pup, a good time being had by all.

3 Days Away

Sam goes to Sydney to work for 3 days. Christian is on the phone to Guido, literally, before the Holden Captiva carrying my honey away, had turned out of our street. Before the red tail lights had averted their steely red gaze back. "I know what you  are doing."

Writing an Eemail to my boss, I'm sick not coming in.

Margaret XXXXX Nobody

She gave her opinion, and the rest of the world gave their opinion, and she whinged that people weren't respecting her greatness, and the rest of the world responded that they didn't think great people had to denigrate other people to prove they were great, and she continued to waffle on about what an out of date book, that most people don't read now a days, claimed and her imaginary friends and what they said and the rest of the world said, "Oh Margaret, we moved on from that idea at least fifty years ago," and she responded by saying you should damn well respect what I say because I am a great tennis player, and people said we don't respect you because you say things with which we don't agree, great tennis player, or not, and then she claimed that the people shouldn't bring her tennis into it. And the people said, "Oh Margaret go away." And now she is saying, "Hello, I'm still a great tennis player, you should respect me." And most of the people said, "Oh Margaret, will you please just shut up."

You know what. Margaret who?

Mayhem at work. Idiot in Sydney HR got it wrong, and so as to not have to admit her mistake, she chooses to change the whole system to accommodate herself. Apart from anything else, it puts NSW at odds with all the other states. Apparently, it was pandemonium on Friday, from all accounts. "She is a dope," I hear myself saying in one of the meetings, a thinly veiled swipe at everyone for not knowing their jobs.

I can feel the vapours coming on.