20 February 2016

What the f**k is wrong with people?

 Oh I know I know, it’s seven or so weeks in to the new year and it’s all about you! You've spent the last month and a half getting thinner, fitter, nicer, calmer, more chilled, less stressed and generally transforming into the perfect human being?

You can’t. None of us are perfect.

So thankfully we can get that out of the way and ask just what kind of cerebral explosions are happening in free thinking minds across the country?

We have a national emergency when it comes to domestic violence and we have had Rosie Batty as our Australian of the Year for a whole year and yet, somebody somewhere in an office says ‘hey let’s give Mark Latham a spot on our radio station and lots of money to trash talk her.’ 

Because that’s HILARIOUS when vicious hateful men are on the radio picking on decent individuals who have been generous enough to take their own personal tragedy and have it picked over in the interests of making the world a better place. 

And we have men like Jeff Allan, the guy who teaches men how to pick up women by treating them violently, who got a visa to come to Australia until people went ‘um no’ and over 60,000 signed a petition telling Dutton to do something.

So he did.

Yet, we have millions and millions of signatures on petitions calling for Dutton and his team of merry men to allow refugees into the country and he’s all like “Nope”.

It's gotten to the point where State leaders are speaking out against our national policies which might at one level be tokenistic like the cynics say but sure as f**k raises the question "Why don't we have that level of gumption in our federal government?. 

We have doctors risking jail to protect the children, churches offering sanctuary and one of only the six refugees we managed to resettle for the 20 zillion dollars we gave to Transfield is homeless and has been taken in by a Seven Day Adventist who is doing it for f**king free. 

Then over the ditch New Zealand says “Hey, we’ll have them” NOT ONCE BUT TWICE and the government is all like “NO WAY – those desperately ill treated people fleeing persecution and war in their own countries who have committed no crime must remain in indefinite detention at billions of dollars expense to the Australian people because….. well, we don’t actually have a reason but MUSLIMS. TERRORISM. PROTECT OUR BORDERS”

Well at least the international community has called us on it and said that we are generally arseholes.  Don’t read the comments on those articles or you might believe that there really is no hope for humanity. Except they probably wrote ‘their iz know hop 4 hughmaniteeeeeee’ because all that hate spilling out stops people being able to spell.

Holly Brockwell who is a tech journalist wrote an article about an app called ‘Stolen’ which lets people steal your personal information off Twitter and do weird stuff with it. Her general stance was ‘Nope – dumb app’. And in response, a bunch of men wrote really angry things asking her to do things to her nether regions with very sharp objects and then one guy jacked off on her photo and sent her a picture of it.

Just because he didn’t like what she wrote. But yet thankfully there is no sexism in Australia. No sir-ree – that’s just all those Feminazis not getting laid often enough. I mean men are ejaculating all over photos of Harry Tucker when they disagree with him on a point of technology? No? Then nothing to see here. Sorry about that. 

We have an indigenous population with a higher rates of suicide, a lower life expectancy, still not being recognised in the constitution and generally treated like second class citizens despite them being here first and somebody (yet again in an office far removed from the real world) okayed a game which encourages people to hunt them down and kill them.  For amusement.

Which obviously would be HILARIOUS if we completely disregarded the last 228 years of cyclical abuse, persecution and genocide. But hey, that’s just those effin’ do-gooders being all upset about nothing. It’s political correctness gone mad. 

Don’t you know English is the official language of this country? What? Isn’t it? Nope. If you didn’t get that message from Dan from Optus you’ve wasted your  2016 so far. That man was a ray of sunshine in a the pea fog of our news feed.

And over in the Vatican Cardinal Pell is refusing to come home on a first class flight because it might kill him. Oh, poor man. Well let me tell you something Google taught me Cardinal Pell, and that I feel you probably know inside out, - John 15:13 says that "Great love hath no man that lies down his life for his friends." And since he in whom you believe also said something along the lines of #dontbeadick REPEATEDLY throughout both the old and new testaments you would think that he would be prepared to put his life on the line to testify.  Not only that, due to crowdfunding and the genius that is Tim Minchin the money has been raised to bring him home and keep him alive during the process. We can't play fairer than that. 

Honestly, what the f**kedity f**k f**k f**k is wrong with people? When the first month closes out with some rooster pretending to screw a dog on Australia Day, you have got to wonder why the fuck we worry about the refugees when we are breeding our own numpties right here.

It might be a cliché, but seriously people "do as you would have done unto you". AKA #dontbeadick

And definitely stay out of the comments section.  Please. You’re embarrassing yourself.

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10 February 2016

And so it begins

Last week we became 'school parents'. As a super special sign of my love and devotion, on the night of Nick's birthday, I arranged a babysitter and we went to the first P&C (Parents and Citizens) committee meeting for 2016.

Hey - they were serving BEER and WINE. It was practically a date.

Sure I might have teared up a bit watching my biggest little one walk into her classroom for the first time but the 55 hours between my induction and her delivery by emergency c-section are still so fresh in my mind that it seems impossible she is wearing a uniform and singing 'Happy Fartday' to her dad and thinking it the most hilarious thing EVAH!

People are very kind when your child starts school, checking how you are feeling and generally being lovely about the 4,156 photos you insist on showing them from their first day.  Because obviously no child has ever looked as adorable in their school uniform as yours. EVAH!

And it's all gone quite smoothly except for me discovering I had to hand write a note to the teacher. HAND WRITE. Blimey, it was like I was back at school or something.

But we've done it. We've begun the process of letting our child go. She's going to make new friends, learn stuff that we've forgotten and start negotiating the Darwinian environment of every school playground in the history of the world. She's going to be a great friend sometimes, a bad friend sometimes and the kid that did the silent but stinky fart sometimes. She'll learn the National Anthem and cheeky rhymes with swear words in them.
Day six and dancing to her own tune.

She'll love some days and hate others. She'll be exposed to different ideas, different opinions, different approaches. We will love some of them and others will be vehemently rejected over wine at dinner parties with friends. She will learn to read and the early signs are good she'll be better at maths by tomorrow than I ever was in 12 years of schooling.

She's going to have stories and memories that aren't emailed to me at the end of the day and that I will try to extract from her by asking questions at the end of the day that are generally answered with "I dunno".

There is even a terrifying chance that somebody might convince her to like team sports and we'll find ourselves on the side of a field on several chilly winters morning pretending we're excited to be there. (If you see us there - we're totally faking it. We're keen for both our daughters to be musically inclined, start bands and need chaperoning to perform gigs in pubs at nights rather than taking turns cutting up oranges at sparrow's fart on a Saturday morning.)

And while she's doing all this, I'm going to see if the school hasn't heard of email.

I mean handwritten notes. Honestly. Next they'll be asking for a landline number.

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