Call me a bloody hippy, but much good will come out of this time of corona madness. A whole new world is waiting to be born
We have stopped buying plastic crap we don’t need that is shipped here from overseas
All children may get access to good schooling and new technology
We will stop working in jobs we hate to buy crap we think we want
People have stopped injecting their bodies with botulism toxin
Maybe we will finally close the gap and have good health outcomes for our first nations people
Kids who aren’t neurotypical and don’t fit into our one size fits all school system will have other options for learning
Neighbours are looking after lonely, elderly folk because they’re not at work all the time
Billionaires and foreign companies who make massive profits may actually have to pay some tax to put money back into society.
People have stopped adding plastic to their fingers and breathing in solvents painted on their toes
Foxtel may go bust with no live sport being played; good riddance Rupert
People will wake up and realise that housing is a human right, not an investment opportunity. We may get rid of over blown rents, negative gearing and have housing that is fair for all
Families will spend quality time together; eating, arguing and singing
The planet will breathe while we’re not stampeding through every river and canal throwing plastic bottles into the sea
We finally appreciate and give thanks to doctors, ambos, nurses, teachers, garbos, shelf stackers, child care workers, aged care lovelies, check out chicks and roosters and start to honour how they keep our society going with their hard work
We will stop buying too many clothes, and not prop up an industry that exploits too many underpaid workers in countries that have no labour laws.
We will grow our own food, share with our neighbours, distribute goods according to need
We will live according to the seasons and honour the ebb and flow of mother nature
We may start to fund our scientists and actually listen when they impart their knowledge
We will swap clothes with our friends, mend and repair broken bits and bobs and remember that compulsive shopping doesn’t fill our hearts
We will crave our connection to nature and appreciate every blade of grass once it is safe to be back in the world
Without organised religious gatherings, people will start to question their beliefs and maybe not hide the paedophiles
We may realise that we don’t need the latest technology to be happy
200,000 poker machines are now sitting idle
We will discover we don’t need to pollute the planet with balloons at gender reveal parties, we can actually live with surprises
We will wake up and stop listening to and voting for greedy mad men who can barely turn up to do their job and finally decide to elect visionary leaders
We can no longer queue and panic buy phones and shoes and other stuff that we really can live without
Huge floating Petri dishes have been stopped from polluting precious cities and oceans across the world
We will have time to dance and sing together (online) and tell our stories and have time with our babies without having to rush off to feed the planet destroying capitalist beast
People will find out the real value of a dollar or a euro and realise that the share market is a house of cards, favouring only the fortunate
And the dolphins and the fish and the worms and the birds will come out of hiding and say ‘what took you so long silly humans?’
This revolution will be televised
The Pollard definitive guide to enjoying 2020:
Pat puppies and kiss kittens
Don’t vote for morons
Eat, drink and be merry
Don’t buy ‘beauty’ products
Stay off the internet
Help a refugee family
Stop buying plastic crap
Thank firies, ambos and nurses
Check your emotional baggage
Get fresh on the dance floor
Support the Uluru Statement
Be kind, even to dickheads
Don’t use the words onboarding, textural or disruptor
Buy the Big Issue
Sing every day
Bring home the facon (don’t harm piggies)
Love your friends
Swim in the ocean
Can we please have an inspiring prime minister like Jacinta Ardern or Justin Trudeau for Christmas?
All I want for Christmas is my dad, Stella Young, David Bowie, Prince, Alan Rickman, my friends Claire, Ant, Veljko and Marc to come back. I’ll swap you Trump, Barnaby Joyce, Tony Abbott, Rupert Murdoch, the cast of any of the Bachie shows, the Sunrise panel and that dolt Dutton.
And let’s close the gap, give indigenous kids back to their communities to heal, and also get kids out of detention ploise, they don’t belong there and neither do their parents
All I really want for Christmas is a cocker spaniel and a house to put him in
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.
On October 31st I’m going trick or treating in our PM Malcolm Turnbull’s street in Point Piper. I’m going to wear my lovely signature single mother ghoulish fashion; my statement piece is a T-shirt saying:
Liberal Government Have Ended Negative Gearing
On the back it says:
Tax Rate for BRW Rich Listers Rises to 73%
Hopefully, I will scare the sinister people in Malcolm’s neighbourhood and if the AFP let me stay, there may even be a sighting of the ghost of Turnbull’s leadership. As our Prime Minister will be in Israel, perhaps his servants will join me in the hunt for Turnbull’s spine but I may just end up with a cauldron full of broken promises.
Then on the Day of the Dead, November 1st, I’m going to hop on my broomstick and haunt the streets of Mal’s Wentworth electorate dressed as a bat in a Barnaby Joyce mask. Anyone want to help me trick some very spooky politicians?
Last night I came home late and found this piece of junk mail in my letterbox delivered by the coalition for marriage.
These unChristians could be spending money sheltering homeless people or sending aid to the Rohingya people, Mexico or Puerto Rico, but instead they waste their money on printing their lies about LGBTQIA families, based on made up fairy tales and their limited definition of what it means to be a family. As a single mum, I also object to being told that my family is not the norm.
What is normal? Urban Dictionary says, that normal is a word used as a tool of conformity. It is not normal for Christians to promote hating their fellow man.
Coalition for the disparagement of truth, every word they have printed is a lie. Promoting hate and division is not what Jesus did.
As Maya Angelou said,
“Hate, it has caused a lot of problems in the world, but has not solved one yet.”
Apparently you have to feed kids good nutrition to help ’em grow. But frankly, I’m sick of cooking. Once upon a time I worked with a woman selling merchandise who wasn’t brilliant at customer service. We used to jokingly say to her, “This shop would run smoothly if these stupid customers stopped coming in,” and I feel the same about my kids coming into the kitchen. I’d have a clean house if it wasn’t for these grotty teenagers. So at dinner time, my kids get two choices, like it or lump it. My daughters usually swap the inedible contents of their lunchboxes for their unsuspecting school friends’ more tasty morsels.
I’ve written a comedy show about my lack of enthusiasm for being left in charge of catering, frankly it’s a job that I’m underwhelmed and ill-equipped to handle, but it has provided my children many opportunities to laugh at me. And made them good cooks.
I’d love you to bring foodie friends to my funny show as I embark on a quest to outsource the catering. You’ll laugh your guts up as I enlist the audience in my hunt for a personal cooking slave. This show contains bad cooking and more culinary disasters than a season of Gordon Ramsay, along with sensational stand-up and me singing a few tunes. If you’re tired of smashing your own avocados, come to Lou Pollard in Kids In The Kitchen for the 2017 Sydney Comedy Festival at Matchbox – The Factory Theatre, 105 Victoria Road Marrickville on Saturday 6th May at 5.45pm and Sunday 7 May 2017 at 4.45pm
Lou Pollard’s Looking For Mike Brady show is a joyous, wonderfully warped, true, raw romp through the minefields and thickets that beset dating, single parenthood and the predations of ageing.
**** Four stars – themusic.com.au
G’day. Here’s my last minute Christmas list for you. I’ve been very busy this year, so as I haven’t really had time to be naughty I think I’m in with a chance of getting a few of these items. So this Christmas I wish you could:
- Please send really sick kids home from children’s hospitals with good health
- Please give their parents a restful break
- Please find homes for homeless people, especially those battling snow and bitter winds
- Please change the gun laws in the US
- Please outlaw the over-supply of greedy real estate agents who profit from people’s basic need for housing
- Please give the tectonic plates a rest for a while
- Please kick out politicians who put their own personal profits ahead of the health, harmony, safety and education of the nation they pretend to be serving
- Please send French champagne and chocolates to my loved ones while I have a lie down
- Please keep an eye on my eldest as she adventures through the wilds of South America
- Please tell whoever is in charge of choosing who dies (I don’t know where they are, maybe in the office next to yours at the North Pole?) not to take any more of our fabulous artists. Can this entity please choose despots, thugs and so-called success coaches in 2017 instead?
I’m trying not to be greedy but some peace, love, joy, giggles, goodwill, gratitude, patience, kisses, health, harmony, dark chocolate, extra light for Channukah, belly laughter, hugs, respect and no new Mariah Carey singles for a while would be ace too
Thanks mate, I’ve got beer waiting for you as long as your reindeer poo out the back of my garden