And all the clubs you used to fund your own ends
You think rugby will be lost without you, oh Iz for goodness sake
You think we’re crying ’cause you stopped playin’ well we ain’t
And Izzy we’ve moved along and I think you should too
Aussies don’t like you and we like everyone
And you for-profit-Christians won’t admit when you are wrong
You get so caught up in your hate, you can’t see what’s going on
But now we know, you’re better playing on your own
Well Izzy you should go and fund yourself
And if you think that we’re still holding on to you
On Friday, the Stephen Bradbury of the Liberal party Scott no friends Morrison made the worst International Women’s Day speech in the history of forever.
Simple Scotty said that men should not have to make way for women’s empowerment.
On International Women’s Day.
“We’re not about setting Australians against each other, trying to push some down to lift others up,” Morrison told a function organised by Australia’s mining industry.
“We want to see women rise. But we don’t want to see women rise only on the basis of others doing worse.”
On International Women’s Day.
What I love most about Scott no friends’ latest idiot utterance is that Labor don’t really need to do anything during this election campaign. Scott has placed his feet in concrete boots and the LNP ship is sinking faster than the rats can run. And it’s all his own doing.
As a rugby league man, Scotty the super fit sporty PM may not understand the concept, so here is the dictionary definition of ‘own goal’:
1. a goal scored when a player inadvertently strikes the ball into their own team’s goal.
an act that unintentionally harms one’s own interests.
Ex liberal MP Julia Banks told a gathering at a separate IWD event that Morrison’s leadership style was akin to “Mad Men crossed with House of Cards.”
Just when the Australian people thought that Tone deaf Abbott defending a paedophile was beyond, along comes good old boy Scotty to make sure they’ll be in opposition for a long time. As we say in the land of Oz, “hold my beer.”
Now that you’ve stopped the votes, where the bloody hell are you retiring to Scotty? Time to book your place at the Hillsong happy clapper home for bewildered dinosaurs 🦖🦕
In 2017 I was lucky enough to visit Italy and I went on a tour of the Vatican. The impenetrable wall around Vatican City and numerous security cameras screamed inclusiveness to me. In the Vaticano museum, there are priceless works from an immense collection built up by Popes throughout the centuries, including some of the most renowned classical sculptures and important masterpieces of Renaissance art in the world. They own paintings by Leonardo, Van Gogh, Raphael, Picasso, Chagall and Dali for God’s sake. Why won’t the Catholic Church sell some of these artworks and antiquities to help the victims of child abuse by their priests? Or perhaps the world’s starving and homeless? When the gap between rich and poor has never been greater, why are ‘good Catholics’ paying for statues to be made and shipped from all over the world to an already over-stuffed museum? They could wipe out a generation’s problems with a few garage and property sales around the world. So why don’t they?
My visit was a few days before Pell was charged. After his arrest, in St Peter’s Square there were polizei, army and carabinieri on every corner and tourist monument. Pell was hidden away. Who could blame the poor victims who for years were ignored, if they decided to revolt against these monsters in power?
20% of Christian brothers are guilty of perpetrating or covering up child abuse. The Catholic Church pays to protect paedophile priests but argues over paying compensation to their victims when money for shelter and counselling could alleviate the suffering of those whose childhoods were robbed by sick perverts.
The Australia-wide Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse delivered its final recommendations in December 2017. More than 60,000 abuse survivors came forward. The suicide rate amongst males in Ballarat (Pell’s home city) is twice that of Melbourne. But still, some in the Catholic Church believe that their religion is being unfairly targeted. This is the organisation where all serving archbishops told the royal commission they would not report to police a colleague who admitted in the confessional to child rape.
And scumbag journalists with zero credibility defend them.
Members of the media who defend child rapists must be sacked. And a truly visionary pope who wanted to help victims would be a great start.
The church asked Catholics to pay for Pell’s defence team, they helped Pell raise money but try to avoid payment to victims. They initially refused to put in an interim care scheme and a lot of the Catholic diocese’ say they ‘intend’ to sign up for the redress scheme, despite lobbying government to cut it down. Something is seriously wrong with this supposedly moral institution. It’s almost as if paedophiles (and alleged paedophiles) are taken care of but not the victims. Jesus would kick these greedy money lenders out of the temple.
“And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the money changers, and the seats of them that sold doves, And said unto them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves.”
I don’t watch much television, but the current top rating show coming out of Washington has me shaking my head in wonder at the scripting and production values. There is not enough animation, and Donald J Trump in the starring role of lead narcissist is too cartoon-like to be real. His skin is too orange and his suits too ill-fitting to be presidential. I’m starting to think that the US TV and movie-making industry has inflicted on us the most bizarre reality show the world has ever seen. We have been tricked into thinking that schlock TV favourite Donald Trump is actually the president of the United States. The wife who is only trotted out for photo opportunities role played by Melania adds drama, but her acting skills aren’t great. Through incredibly staged press briefings we have been lead to believe that the Orange Creep’s handbag designing daughter Ivanka is a foreign policy adviser and that this bizarre family actually sometimes live at the White House.
There are some great episodes of the show. The Singapore scenes with the actor playing a North Korean despot were brilliantly staged, despite the lack of plot resolution. And I do love Nancy Pelosi in the pivotal role of lead shit stirrer. Her cameo at this week’s State of The Onion address must be nominated for an Emmy award and a Nobel Prize.
In an era where white trash families and country bumpkins dominate our television screens, the Trump family are reality TV royalty. Candid Camera started this trend but it may be time to stop giving idiots so much air time. The Loud clan were the first reality TV family, let’s hope the Mar-a-Lago Trumps are the last. Honestly America, it is time to take out the trash. Bigly.
In 2019 I am transforming into an alert single mother because my child will be alarmed. No more teen tantrums to endure! I’ve decided to send my wandering youngest child to school in China, where she can wear a lovely new uniform. Even thousands of miles away I can easily track her whereabouts. I need to find a translator so I can read her school reports.
Big mother will find you #beyondtheschoolgrounds
Marie Kondo san
Vinnies and Salvos may not agree but I’d like to say,
Doomo arigatoo gozaimasu
I hugged my teenager and she didn’t give me joy so I sent her to live with her father
I spent Christmas with my relatives and they didn’t bring me happiness so I moved away
I laboured through a summer party with pill popping friends who became obnoxious, so this year I won’t be answering their calls
My daggy trackie dacks don’t spark joy but the fact that they still fit me after three kids does so I’m keeping them
Folding up Dutton, Morrison and Abbott at the next election will help my thoughts become clear
Parking cops don’t speak to my heart, out they go
Throwing out “joyless” items originally struck me as a first world problem. But the end result may be that the world is made better
A few things I’m hoping for in 2019:
Hardly any bottom of the budgie cage seeds on my veggies
No more friend requests from inspirational people selling pyramid schemes
A world class, leading expert free world
An absence of life hacks
A climate change deniers manned journey to Pluto
An apathy of new bucket list items
Motivational speaker free zones
A teaspoon of resolutions
Piglets running loose in public parks
A plethora of politicians who think before they speak
Truckloads of hot firies turning up at work
Summer in Straya – a few of my favourite things:
Lasting New Years resolutions like eating more sugar and drinking more fruity wine
Teenagers asked to empty dishwasher kindly putting 3 forks away
Sweaty humid walk home from beach to end up stinkier than before ocean swim
Adults moaning about kids singing too loud while playing music at the park
Watermelon stains on white clothing
Photos of depressed northern hemisphere mates clad in grey overcoats
Burnt veggies on the barbie
Drunken laughter drifting from pub beer gardens
Politicians releasing details of dodgy deals on public holidays
Cat bringing dead lizards and mangled mice inside for shared family dinner
Oldies bitching about toddlers having public meltdowns. Who doesn’t love a good tantrum?
Mango dribbling down your chin
Appointments with melanoma specialists
Work experience radio hosts describing daily weather. “Hot then bucketing down. Tomorrow balmy, then a summery, tropical weekend scorcher.”
Warm drinks laced with flies
Happy sweaty Southern Hemisphere summer
Happy New Year. Hope you have fun tonight. I want a smallish glass of good champagne. At one point in my life I would have drunk tequila made from wombat wee if the bar ran dry and now I’m a one glass screamer. Mummies getting smashed is so last year.
In 2019 we will have:
Fewer emails, more laughter
More kisses, less complaining
Zero idiot rich white male politicians, more wise women from diverse backgrounds
Less coconut milk, more chocolate
Fewer inspirational quotes, more doing
More policies, less political slogans
More teenage dirtbags, less sanitised posers
More sleep, less stress
More grunge, less photoshop
More fun, fewer rules
More open hearts
We can learn to love again