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 🦖🦕
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
2018, the year that cannot end quickly enough for me. What a clusterfuck.
This truly was the year of the tools coming out from under their rocks.
Israel Folau spreading hate
Julie Asbestos Bishop behaving like the hypocrite of the century, acting like a martyr when she let Bernie Banton die in agony waiting for compensation
Lindsay Lohan and her “women look weak” bollocks
Malcolm Gunning from the real estate agents group who thought that people should get a second job to buy a home
Steve Smith and David Warner
Potato Dutton thinking he had a chance at the top job. The man has a head like a dropped pie
The guy who wanted to ask me out on a date but then mansplained the term ‘mansplaining’ to me
Too many women and children murdered by men they knew, including beautiful Olga and her kids
Scott Morrison’s embarrassing moments happening almost daily from October
Extreme weather conditions worsened across the globe and still moron politicians deny climate science
There have been 94 school shootings in the US this year
The year when the two most powerful comedy shows weren’t funny; Nanette by- Hannah Gadsby and Sascha Baron Cohen’s documentary on America
We lost beautiful artists this year
Aretha Franklin, Neil Simon, Tom Wolfe, Mirka Mora, Dolores O’Riordan, Richard Gill, Stephen Hawking, Charles Blackman, Judy Blame,, Anthony Bourdain, Kofi Annan,
Eurydice Dixon was taken from us
Emma Gonzalez and her classmates
Tham Luang cave divers
Christine Balsey Ford
The year I learnt to say no more than yes
I was ghosted by a friend
This year a school bully told my child that she should kill her self, my two other kids suffered health problems and I went to hospital twice, but we are blessed to have our health system and we have held onto our sanity (just)
Shakespeare wrote about Donald Trump in All’s Well That Ends Well:
“A most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality.”
May 2019 bring wisdom and a strong wall to keep the idiots at bay
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
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.
You are asleep at the wheel. Banker lawyers aren’t renowned for their innovation or empathy, but you have turned out to be our Clayton’s* Prime Minister, the one we have when we don’t really have a leader. You are surrounded by pseudo human career politicians and you have proved to be as much of a jerk as Abbott, just dressed in a better suit. Malcolm, you seemed to have potential, years ago you talked with great passion about Australia becoming a republic, the Australian people thought that you could have been a man of vision but instead, you bow to people whose ideas belong in the Dark Ages. 30 women have been murdered this year alone and the only thing that makes you angry is the company tax rate not being cut. You truly are our most disappointing Prime Minister.
You spoke of Australia’s success with resettling refugees using sportsman Allir Allir as an example. You forgot to mention the refugee children languishing in mouldy tents on Manus and Nauru and the dying man whose supporters had to fight in court for him to receive proper palliative care in a hospital. Allir Allir coming here from a refugee camp in Kenya had nothing to do with you. You cold fart unholy man.
You have no inspiring strategies on:
And Malcolm, you feel the need to constantly bash Bill Shorten, but you’re short on common sense, short on intelligent policies and short on compassion. What you need is a bunch of single mums in your cabinet; you’d get some great decisions made in record time (and under budget) and our country would perhaps be more inclined to give people in need a fair go (does this concept sound familiar?).
Your grandchildren won’t be proud of how your party decided to destroy what’s left of the Great Barrier Reef, how about you stand up and become a statesman? Because right now you look like you really don’t want the job. Malcolm, it is time to step up or crawl off to your dodgy tax haven in the Cayman Islands like the scaly, shifty old caiman you resemble.
*If you’re not familiar with this term, in the 1970s and 80s Clayton’s was advertised as ‘the drink you have when you’re not having a drink.’