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Chewin’ the fat

It’s pretty much widely acknowledged that Heather Mills is one crazy lady. Possibly had Sir Paul met Ms Mills around the same time John met Yoko Ono the Japanese born American singer would have been held in high regard by the British public (who for the unwashed is pretty much regarded as the catalyst for the Beatles break up – which means she’s not very popular…still). I meant to post on this a week ago when I read it, but forgot until it popped up today. I’ve got to say if there’s one thing I hate more than a credit card wielding neo-socialist it’s an animal rights activist. So PETA aren’t at the top of the organisations I’m most likely to respond positively to… Their idea of “controversial” is to have models who would generally pose naked for money posing naked for their cause… alright they also throw animal blood on models at catwalks etc… but their approach can pretty much be described along the lines of the advertising mantra that “sex sells”. Unfortunately this methodology has been picked up by animal rights/vegan protest group Viva. hich brings us to Mills, who is their latest “celebrity” activist throwing her unbalanced weight (geddit, geddit, oh I give up) behind the cause. To show that it’s not more than a ploy to boost her ailing image following a messy public divorce (and outrageously bad interview a little while ago where she pretty much blamed the plight of the planet on the media) she agreed to be interviewed on the topic. If you haven’t clicked the link already here are the highlights…

“There are 25 alternative milks available in health shops and supermarkets,” she added, saying she turned vegan when an African woman at Live 8 asked her: “Why don’t people stop drinking cows’ milk lattes?”

“Why do we not drink rats’ milk, cats’ milk or dogs’ milk?”

Mills, and Viva, somewhat tenuously link meat eating to global warming. This position strikes me as contradictory for two reasons – one, sure cows may produce massive amounts of greenhouse gasses – but doesn’t this mean that population control in the form of Maccas burger patties is doing its bit for the environment? Shouldn’t we all be eating a cow to save the planet? And two… shouldn’t a pro-life (the natural corollary of an anti-slaughter animal rights position) be advocating for cows to live out their days in peace – thus creating no real mechanism of population control and allowing the unabated flow of harmful methane leaden greenhouse flatulence into the atmosphere?

On a Downer

Well. Who’d have thunk it? The Australian electorate (nb –not me because I didn’t actually get to vote) has collectively decided that it can forgive and forget an ear wax eater – and anoint him Prime Minister with a night of pompous cerumeny(sic) – that was my funniest joke ever. I promise. Click the link. Do it. So anyway, K-Rudd came through and became the ultimate tall poppy – now watch the media pack turn and devour him with the relish once reserved for Howard – who is now almost universally regarded as a hero of our times – albeit an unpopular, out of touch hero who somewhat selfishly singlehandedly brought about the destruction of his team – no sorry, that’s Willie Mason. The Liberal party is now Rudd-erless (unlike the other guys) and in a state of disrepair and disconnection from power never before seen – in fact Brisbane is the last bastion of official Liberal power – a stronghold at City Council level – held by my sur-namesake Campbell Newman… I can only surmise that with a dearth of experienced out of work pollies spread around the country the next few state elections will see a swing back to the Conservatives… In the meantime the Liberals and their country cousins – the Nationals are without leaders. This situation will keep the election aftermath in the news cycle for just that little bit longer – even I’m sick of the politics now – as the Libs have their own little election. We can only hope this one won’t be fought out in cyberspace with each candidate trying to outviral the other (Election 2.1 anyone?) – I for one don’t want to see anymore of Alexander Downer than I have to. Turnbull should get the nod – leading the Liberals into a new age of whatever it is waterfront magnates feel is important other than the accumulation of wealth and material possessions… so more of the same. My prediction is that Costello will sit on the backbench until the Liberals decide they really are better off with him – and he’ll come riding in from the sunset (where his career now sits metaphorically) on his trusty steed “Economic Management” – which is a stupid name for a horse, expect to see it running at next year’s Melbourne Cup.

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Rack off lefty scum

The title of this ‘ere little post is stolen from perhaps my favourite piece of Junior Liberal’s propaganda – perhaps only marginally beating Liberals: We put the fun into funding cuts. The current batch of Liberal slogans ala “go for growth” are a little to obscure, obtuse and obviously written by geriatrics for me to get excited – but (segue) one thing that is sure to get me excited, one thing that’s sure to raise my ire, is the nu-left trendy hippy intellectually self-congratulatory latte pinko lefties. That’s right – the kind of people who when they hear that I – due to the AEC’s stringent and altogether too rigorous attempts to cut the yoof out of the polls and restrict the chances of messy electoral change – am not voting at this election and respond by saying “good, we don’t want your conservative vote anyway” – they’re the one’s who really raise my hackles. Let me tell you a thing or two about these self absorbed commies who go running around with their commercially mass-produced Che Guevara t-shirts extolling the evils of economic rationalism while enjoying their imported South American coffee, French art house films and hydroponic cones… they trumpet idealism and moral superiority, call on the government to end poverty, global corruption and anything resembling “the machine”, “the man”, or “globalisation”… What really gets me is their hypocrisy – their complete inability or lack of desire to put their money where their mouth is. And I mean that literally. Sure be a hippy, smoke your dope, call for a removal of inhibiting laws, the woman’s right to choose to terminate her unborn child’s life, make dope legal, build injection rooms, feed the hungry, water the trees, save the whales…protest against globalisation, protest against free trade, protest against war. But don’t ever let your personal convictions get in the way of your pleasure and comfort. These wacko lefties claim to be all about social justice but the ideologues aren’t prepared to reach into their own pockets (except through taxes) to support anything except the “save a panda” foundation which is just marginally trendy enough to score kudos with their stoned John Butler loving friends. Climate Change and saving whales are in vogue with those of the environmentally superior – but they’re bandwagon jumping, cause loving anti-establishment fiends who’d support the extermination of a people group if the government was against it and decry it as fascism when the government endorses it. Ok – that was pure hyperbole and exaggeration. My point is this – before you, my lefty friends go decrying me and my “conservative Christian” friends who happen to be generally supportive of public morality being maintained in the guise of “law and order” – as callous, unfeeling bigots, be prepared to defend the fact that while you spend your money on Hare Krishna “smile” stickers for your combi or whatever it is you drive these days, and sign your name to whatever Greenpeace petition is thrust in front of your face, us “conservatives” are out practicing the theories of a freemarket economy and donating to worthy charities designed to bring people out of poverty. For ever barb you chardonnay swillers throw at Hillsong for counselling young, pregnant women against having abortions, they’re donating real money to causes like getting people off the street and into jobs. You whinging dole bludging “arts graduate” wannabees are much too busy fighting for intellectual causes to actually address the physical reality.

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The media is the message

It’s been an interesting week in the election campaign – the Coalition’s Abbott showed why he’s unlikely to become a monk with a foul mouthed tirade at the health ministers’ debate, Peter Garrett unwittingly revealed Labor’s intentions to just “change everything” when/if they get into power. And Peter Costello and Wayne Swan traded barbs while in Townsville…

“Mr Swan is one of those cyborgs who repeats the same line in the hope that the media will pick it up”

“Sightings of Mr Costello in Townsville are about as rare as sightings of Migaloo”

The role the media plays in the election has also been under a bit of scrutiny with a few people whinging about favouritism – and incompetence.

And no surprises on the last one… here’s a paragraph from the SMH website today

“Man turns himself into police after another man was shot twice in the head in Sydney’s north west”

Vigilante justice? Or a bizarre case of metamorphism… or perhaps a typo.

Rudd is famous for his glass chin (and wax ear) when it comes to media criticism – he scored points this week for his humour when handling questions on the wax incident after the video of his waxy snack made it onto Jay Leno’s talk show. He lost points for refusing to talk to Townsville’s most popular radio breakfast host on 4TO because it’s the wrong demographic. Rudd is pandering to the young vote – possibly at the expense of everyone else.

Queensland’s state pollies – particularly the Labor ones (who can still count on the support of Liberal leader Bruce Flegg) had a rough week. Following leadfoot MP Andrew Choi’s admission that the beeping speed monitor just fades into the background when he’s speeding Deputy Premier Paul Lucas launched an extraordinary attack on the media. It seems he thinks it’s unfair that pollies have to face such intense scrutiny while journos don’t have to disclose anything about their speeding record. He’s kind of missed the point – journos don’t drive around in government funded cars or get paid to reduce the road toll like the Parliamentary Secretary for Roads.

Robyn wants me to tell everyone that she’s got a black eye. I want to make it clear that she needs to have my dinner ready on time… and point out that indoor soccer seems to be a dangerous game for her to play.