Dear world of media, social and serious,
I understand that the current crop of American, British and Australian politicians are spectacularly unskilled, treacherous, dangerous to children and the general health of our nations, but can we please stop calling them Muppets? Muppets are cute. Most of our pollies are neither entertaining, warm or wise, so stop labelling them as friendly puppets that have given pleasure to millions. When writing about these huge parliamentary pension seekers, using the term muppets conveys that they possess some wit. This is not the case.
The current Australian prime minister (for this week) is not life-like, clever nor an original thinker, nor able to relate to humans with humour and compassion, so for the sake of my fond childhood memories please refrain from comparing him to Fozzie Bear, Rowlf the Dog or Kermit.
I have heard the term, you lying fucking muppet used many times when relating to Brexit, can we please instead call these career con artists twats, twatwaffles or plonkers? If you don’t like these terms, consider using the phrases of the Bard. Shakespeare was brilliant at describing human stupidity. We could yell out in Question Time:
“More of your conversation would infect my brain. Your brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after voyage.”
The only Muppets we need in politics are Statler and Waldorf to heckle and cajole incompetent public servants in parliament buildings around the world.
I hope that something better comes along…
a puppet worked by strings.“the bird bobs up and down like a marionette”
a person who is easily manipulated or controlled.“many officers dismissed him as the mayor’s marionette”
The family with an obsession with K’s will also tell you repeatedly that using a credit card is a talent. It isn’t. We don’t need new pots, we buy crap to fill the gaping hole in our feelings. Finding a bargain won’t make us happy. We need to make mindless consumerism as popular as Dolce and Gabbana in Shanghai. Supermarkets don’t have a happiness aisle selling unicorns. I’ve checked.
Getting into debt is not the way to fulfillment. When we are rich in shopping bags, we become poor in mental acuity. Like a Hillsong church, rich consumerism has only lead to poor spiritualism. Your mindless purchases may include all natural, non-toxic, free shipping. But happiness is sold separately.
During the First World War, one-tenth of the Australian male population enlisted. Everyone in this country knew someone who had gone to war. Many never returned.
Gathered from the hillsides in bright summer colors
And the brown earth bleached white
At the edge of his gravestone
The man, barely twenty, did answer the calling
Proud of the trust
That he placed in our nation
And it knows what we’ve done
On the leaves of the flowers
Leaving brown, muddy clay
Where the earth had been dry
He waited for hours
As he held to his rifle
And prayed not to die
Was shattered by fire
As the guns and grenades
Blasted sharp through the air
His comrades were slaughtered
In the morgue of marines
Alone, standing there
Ever lower, with fear
They can’t let me die
They can’t let me die here
With the mud and the earth
I’ll cover myself
I know I’m not brave
The earth is my grave
Gathered from the hillsides in bright summer colors
And the brown earth bleached white
At the edge of his gravestone
Yesterday there was a by-election held in the electorate where my children go to school. At the polling booth, I asked an older Liberal party member who was handing out how to vote cards how he could campaign for climate denial when the science is clear. He asked me a question about H2o or Co2 levels in the atmosphere then told me off for not knowing the answer.
“You should educate yourself,” he said.
“I believe the scientists,” I replied but because I couldn’t answer his science questions he laughed. My brain has never retained STEM facts so that’s not proof that global warming doesn’t exist, it’s proof that 99% of the time my mind is off with the pixies dreaming up single mum get rich quick schemes, and maths and science are not my strong point.
When I said to him, “How about your party find some strong policies instead of incessantly bitching about the Opposition?” he told me I didn’t understand science. He is right but I clearly understand that I don’t want our beautiful environment destroyed by corporate and political greed.
Even a former Liberal Party leader stated the day before the poll: “You forfeit the right to govern if you don’t have a climate action strategy.”
A few hours later the Government lost a safe seat they’d held for 117 years, and the Prime Minister gave a tone-deaf concession speech attacking opposition leader Bill Shorten and people on welfare. I’m no policy-maker but here are a few ideas if they want to stay in government next year:
Where 45% of the electorate are renters, don’t talk to us about negative gearing. Overpaid members of parliament have used Australians on low and below the poverty line income to buy and push up house prices. We are sick of subsidising wealthy politicians who manipulate the property market. Let’s remove this rort.
We’ve had three conservative Prime Ministers in two and a half years, so perhaps don’t mention stability and certainty in your election promises. Nor economic management when you’ve tripled the deficit and refused to help low income families in the five years you’ve been in power.
And let’s not mention the NBN debacle.
The conservatives have now lost their majority in the lower house. Maybe with a hung parliament we can get the kids off Nauru without having to go to court.
Liberal party, it’s not 1954, you could try listening to voters. All over the world, educated people are living to the 21st century. Wentworth liked the guy who you kicked out of the job, so they decided to elect a progressive independent doctor who believes in climate change. Maybe your party can’t attract women with integrity because no intelligent lady would join your gang of dinosaurs. Scott Morrison, try inspiring our country with visionary ideas, you currently sound like a used car salesman trying to sell us a clapped out, dodgy lemon. Your hollow words are (went) worthless
The items I most want to tick off my chuck it in the bucket list:
1. Find a single 97-year-old billionaire outside a Las Vegas wedding chapel
2. Earn enough money for cask wine, Prozac, Phenergan & 2-minute noodles
3. Post about single motherhood money challenges without being contacted by a self-employed pyramid scheming guru wanting me to invest in their ‘incredible once in lifetime opportunity, don’t miss out, fast-growing’ business
4. Finish a sentence without being interrupted by a chatty child
5. Block well-meaning women on social media whose side career is marketing anti-aging cosmetics, life-changing cleanses and other ‘green’ products of dubious nutritional value
6. Get thrown off a mechanical bull into an enormous foam pit full of cash
7. Strip without grimacing
8. Skydive into a ginormous bucket of French champagne
9. Do a poo in peace in a toilet that has been cleaned by someone else
10. Get ex to pay for kids (dreaming)
11. Dare to live fully while sleeping 16 hours a day in a room with a view
12. Draft legislation to outlaw the word ‘panties’
13. Have a holiday that doesn’t involve child-friendly parks
14. Fly a hot air balloon into a massive pot of gold
15. Children shoplift without getting caught
16. Doze on a beach for 12 months while servants cater to every whim
17. Hear the sound of silence in my head
18. Smile because I’m not worrying about bills I can’t pay
19. Snorkel with old friends in an Olympic-sized pool of gin
20. Outlaw bucket lists
This week I woke up dressed in a diabolical fashion, with unflattering lighting overhead and inedible food by my bed. No, it wasn’t Mother’s Day. When I walked into the main hospital building that morning, the first thing I noticed was the drab decor; so hideous that the caring lovelies working there had tried to patch up the dullness with bright paintings, but I could feel the bacteria and sadness in the walls.
But we do have incredible care. When I came to after my anaesthetic, I had the most lovely pregnant nurse and I couldn’t get over how grateful I felt that we have great health care in Australia. Everyone was so caring I shed a few tears, I felt blessed that this was my first thought. I looked around and noticed that the hospital staff represented every corner of the universe, Africa, Asia, alien, Australia, America, Pacific Islands, Europe and bogan. Despite the racial hatred pollies who’ve received very few votes are trying to stir up, Australians are a mixed bag of nationalities who want to work and live together in harmony without politicians telling us we can’t.
I had a general anaesthetic so I could have Botox injected into my bum muscle (I speak fluent doctor yeah) to try to repair nerve damage from an operation I had in April. I did ask but the doctor wouldn’t do a 2 for the price of 1 Botox deal on my arse and my face. Bloody Medicare. Before I went under, my colorectal surgeon told me to eat soft foods, when I awoke I was served beef so tough it could have been used by our defence forces. And the doctor wouldn’t let me go until my blood pressure and pulse rate went up so I sat in a chair scoffing non-hospital food until I was allowed to leave. I’m happy to be home. On my return, there was a two-stage political coup erupting to change our Prime Minister. Here comes the revolution: We’ve changed to a conservative god bothering white male from a mega-rich white male. Plus ca change. And now that the weekend is here, and our right-wing politicians have finished throwing tantrums and travelled away from the Canberra bubble, I’d like to help those boorish pale males think about something other than themselves, perhaps the nation’s healthcare, education, domestic violence, babies dying in detention centres or even a treaty with the people who were here first.
Politicians, I can’t believe I have to spell it out for you, but most of you are ego driven and need Commcar drivers to help you get to work at Parliament House because you couldn’t find the place by yourself. You are public servants, we voted for you to serve us, not to watch you cower before opinion polls, you spineless idiots. Walk into the hospital, STFU, listen and watch how a diverse group of people co-operate, learn how they carry on their jobs without petty squabbles, working as a team to achieve incredible outcomes for the good of all humanity. This may help as most of you couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. If you still don’t get it, be careful the door doesn’t hit your unBotoxed bums on the way out.
This week the NRL, AFL, rugby and soccer boys are wearing a new strip on the field. It’s magenta polka dots, lightning bolts and zebra stripes, with olive and puce armbands, which stands for raising awareness week and making sure caring and giving back is in the headlines with a few high profile footy boofheads adorned in the right colours.
In a profound press release, Lina Tell-All White a publicist with a certificate in marketing and an educational background that includes being expelled from most upmarket Sydney schools revealed,
“We’re raising awareness of raising awareness. There may be a fun run. We had seven different marketing committees choosing the palette and pairing it with matching wines and food served in gumboots at an overpriced invitation-only dinner at an exclusive inner city hotel. What it means is that we stand for making instant Instagram stars of the people wearing the well-chosen outfits and hoping their media profiles will raise awareness of a thoughtful charity drive that will make money so we can show that we’re thinking of lots of issues on right-wing radio, commercial television and all the socials. It’s really important for politicians, influencers and even ordinary punters to know what we stand for. Even if we don’t.”
“We are also running another timely campaign, we desperately need funding to buy more açai smoothie bowls for girls who went to overpriced schools who now can’t afford to buy homes within 20 kilometres of the expensive suburb they grew up in. It’s a national tragedy and we need to fix it,” said another spokeswoman from a massive yacht on Sydney Harbour. “They may not be homeless but their needs are great. Raising Awareness, reality TV ‘stars’ wearing exorbitantly priced clothing and building fame, that’s really all we want from a charity appeal, Australia just doesn’t have enough of it. Our thoughts and prayers are with all the celebrities with less than 100K followers on Instagram.”
My dad would have been 92 this week, but his body didn’t want to stay around that long. He was a devoted da and a workaholic. He taught me:
*To do what I love for a living (he wrote/edited over 100 books)
*Travel opens your mind
*A sense of humour will help you in the darkest days of your life
*A good swim in the ocean can clear your mind
*Hard work is good for the soul
*A tough childhood doesn’t define the rest of your life
*Even if you haven’t had your own dad, you can achieve a lot
*Dancing a slow tango in the kitchen is magical
*Kids raised by single mums are tough
*A full fridge means you are doing really well
*Stray dogs are worth rescuing
*Some days we must get up and go to work even when we think we can’t
*Singing love songs is great for families
*Lovingly made freshly squeezed orange juice is better than an expensive restaurant breakfast
*Taking your kids back to your old childhood haunts opens their eyes
*Listening to the stories people tell you will help you learn about the world
*Love is a verb
*Singing to your kids at bedtime may soothe them or freak them out
*Saying yes to new opportunities is scary but worth it
*Never let the truth get in the way of a good story
16 years without him have gone by in a flash. I would sacrifice a few of my toes to see one of his cheeky smiles, hear his laugh and have a hug.
My dad was the Prince of Kings Cross