2018 – The Year of the Plonker

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.

Trump
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
Barnaby Joyce
Lleyonhelm
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
The Wallabies
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, too many to suicide

Aretha Franklin, Neil Simon, Tom Wolfe, Mirka Mora, Dolores O’Riordan, Richard Gill, Stephen Hawking, Charles Blackman, Judy Blame,, Anthony Bourdain, Kofi Annan, Penny Marshall, Penny Cook, Liz Jackson
Eurydice Dixon was taken from us

Heroes

Robert Mueller
Emma Gonzalez and her classmates
Jameela Jamil

Tham Luang cave divers
Chrissie Foster

Christine Balsey Ford

Saxon Mullins

Sisto Malaspina

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

 


Black hole Friday

Apparently, on Black Friday spiritual satisfaction can be gained through sales. This morning I woke to find that I missed the weekend to give thanks, but Black Friday frenzy can be enjoyed even on Cyber Monday. I’d love to turn Monday into Friday, but beware if you are tempted to take advantage of a late offer on the Black Friday sales, think about America. Fighting, shooting, looting, one person shot dead, sounds like a fun day out spending money we don’t have on shit we don’t need to me.
Cyber Monday has a high rating on the official Australian who gives a rat’s arse-o-metre. Don’t be tempted. it’s not your last chance. Like John Farnham comeback tour tickets, you know deep in your carb-loaded core that all this stuff will be online again. Over purchasing as a religious experience landed America a buy now, pay later president. We don’t need to copy them.

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.


Meaningless slogans in fancy fonts

As the world falls apart, women are murdered, idiots are in power and politics seems like a bad reality TV show, I’ve developed effective new coping strategies. Mindless midnight social media browsing is great for self-esteem, time wasting and spying on my teenage children. Online advertising, however, can sometimes interrupt my bliss. This week I saw an ad on Instagram with a picture of two men dressed like accountants sitting at a computer below the words:

Revenue modelling with accurate customer journey alignment.

Fork me. I’m not up on the current marketing vernacular, but can the business world please learn to speak English? If they want to flog their dubious schemes with very little cash flow it may help if their unsuspecting customers could actually understand what is being flogged.

Here are some tips for those of us who would like to get ahead in the online world of peddling the latest get rich quick schemes:

Using lots of jargon will definitely break your customer’s spirit

Just because you have the technology to make a selfie video doesn’t mean you should. Now that everyone has a camera people are unfortunately living with the delusion that what they have to say is interesting. If your video bores me to tears, I’m definitely not looking at your website. The world doesn’t need more mindless advice, more banal lectures, more monotonous podcasts, how to vlogs and more wearying webinars.

Philanthropy must be encouraged; as I try to be community-minded, I’m proposing mandatory jail sentences be introduced for companies using the following words and phrases in their promotional materials:

Drill down

Growth hacking

Resonate

Robust

Disruptor

In and of itself

Growing your brand

Upskilling

A culture of tedium and being annoying is not an effective marketing tool. As I age, I’m growing nostalgic. Remember when we just went to work and didn’t have to read inspiring online stories of personal development?

Advertising can be simple


Politicians have a lot to be modest about

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.


7 must-own single mother fashion items

Aside from prescription medications, a home and a large cask of fruity leg-opener, here is your essential guide to the seven must-own style items for single mothers:

 

  1. A leopard cougar dress adds class to any event, including school canteen duties or my kid doesn’t deserve another detention meetings in the principal’s office
  2. A large slobbering pit bull wearing a choke collar is mandatory for surviving early weekend morning netball games courtside with only happily married power couples for company
  3. A timeless, barely-there I can’t pay the rent ripped t-shirt emblazoned with I am the patron saint of deadbeat males goes with just about anything and is perfect for last minute call ups to the school father’s day breakfast
  4. Flannie shirt and work boots, for that crucial menswear-inspired look to confuse the hell out of the parents who can’t guess which side of the sexual fence you’re sitting on at the school fete
  5. Add polish to your 3pm pick up look by combining a no-brainer plunging neckline with the quintessential single mother chunky snakeskin stiletto
  6. Sneakers found on the street outside charity shops lengthen your pay packet and mean you can run from your children when they embarrass you at the shops
  7. A basic toy boy dressed in suede or leather is the ultimate go-to handbag for school parent-teacher meetings, he will add instant sophistication

 

Jeannie C. Riley – Harper Valley P.T.A.

 


Dear Malcolm

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:

Climate change

The arts

Health

Education

Refugees

or Science

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.’

 


Addicted

This week we learned that we must no longer go online because bad people will steal our identities, our children will turn into Minecraft addicted zombie bots (too late) and we’ll all start speaking Russian and worshipping Putin.

This is a blog post about why you shouldn’t be reading my blog online because your health will suffer. It is harmful to be on the Internet. Please direct lots of people here and make a habit of visiting my site because it will help my stats, but don’t become dependent. It will be your fault dear readers if you give me insomnia while I stay up all night dealing with all the comments and emails and awkward conversations that your online obsession provokes. You’ll be fine on my blog, but don’t visit any other websites, and please make sure you don’t tell Cambridge Analytica that you have been reading this post. And don’t comment with the F word or Mark Zuckerberg’s lawyers will come to your house late at night and steal your thoughts.

Isn’t our world moronic? Don’t you think?

This post has been brought to you by the Alanis Morrissette school of irony and Instagram influencer mothers posting photos of their kids playing #devicefree and #technologyfree while those mothers profit from these same kids’ lives on social media.

#irony

Ed Byrne on Irony