To dilly-dally is divine.
John Brogden was standing near the Oyster Bar at the refurbished Hilton hotel, two days after Bob Carr resigned, Corona in hand, holding court with several young women, when he made his fatal mistake.
Mr Brogden said he was feeling "on top of the world" and declared: "I'm going to be the next premier of NSW."
One party to the conversation recalled: "Someone fired out, 'What about Bob, what's he going to do?"' Brogden replied: "Well, he can ship his mail-order bride back on the boat."
- The Sydney Morning Herald's Page 1 story today
Brogden is, no, sorry, was, New South Wales' opposition leader of the Liberal Party (the one the venerable PM John Howard is from). Apparently, 'Broggers' had six beers in three hours when he made his "mail-order bride" comment about Helena Carr, the Malaysian-born wife of ex-NSW Premier Bob Carr. At the same event, the stupid man also pinched the bottom of a female reporter and propositioned another female journo (stupid, stupid man). Broggers resigned yesterday; the story's the biggest thing this week.
Mind you, the pint-sized Helena, born in Sarawak (half-Indian, half-Chinese) and living in Australia since the '60s, is a well-educated, powerhouse of a careerwoman, who's been boss of several businesses. Bob Carr, for one, said: "I think that his apology is entirely unacceptable to Helena and that it is the greatest insult not only to her but to every woman of Asian background."
Well, for sure. But that's not just it. The point is it's also about a big, tough, barrel-chested Aussie bloke who can't handle his friggin' Corona.
OK, maybe not, but I think it's another classic example of why Australian politics can sometimes be so damned interesting to watch. It's like watching in slow-mo an eighteen-wheeler loaded with cream pies crash into a truckful of wigged-out clowns, for instance, and going "What the f...".
Mr Brogden said he was feeling "on top of the world" and declared: "I'm going to be the next premier of NSW."
One party to the conversation recalled: "Someone fired out, 'What about Bob, what's he going to do?"' Brogden replied: "Well, he can ship his mail-order bride back on the boat."
- The Sydney Morning Herald's Page 1 story today
Brogden is, no, sorry, was, New South Wales' opposition leader of the Liberal Party (the one the venerable PM John Howard is from). Apparently, 'Broggers' had six beers in three hours when he made his "mail-order bride" comment about Helena Carr, the Malaysian-born wife of ex-NSW Premier Bob Carr. At the same event, the stupid man also pinched the bottom of a female reporter and propositioned another female journo (stupid, stupid man). Broggers resigned yesterday; the story's the biggest thing this week.
Mind you, the pint-sized Helena, born in Sarawak (half-Indian, half-Chinese) and living in Australia since the '60s, is a well-educated, powerhouse of a careerwoman, who's been boss of several businesses. Bob Carr, for one, said: "I think that his apology is entirely unacceptable to Helena and that it is the greatest insult not only to her but to every woman of Asian background."
Well, for sure. But that's not just it. The point is it's also about a big, tough, barrel-chested Aussie bloke who can't handle his friggin' Corona.
OK, maybe not, but I think it's another classic example of why Australian politics can sometimes be so damned interesting to watch. It's like watching in slow-mo an eighteen-wheeler loaded with cream pies crash into a truckful of wigged-out clowns, for instance, and going "What the f...".
"If you want to be an Australian, if you want to raise your children in Australia, we fully expect those children to be taught and to accept Australian values and beliefs... We want them to understand our history and our culture, the extent to which we believe in mateship and giving another person a fair go, and basically if people don't want to support and accept and adopt and teach Australian values then, they should clear off."
- Australian Federal Education Minister Brendan Nelson, on ABC Online. Dr Nelson is meeting the Australian Federation of Islamic Councils to find ways to teach Australian values to Muslim school-children.
Clear off? Fine choice of words there from the Education Minister, obviously reflecting a very warm and welcoming Antipodean belief system in culture and immigration.
But just what the bloody dinkum does "Australian values" mean? "Mateship"? "A fair go"? If that's the best you've got, then why not hand every kid a can of Toohey's and force him to sit through an Aussie Rules match? Please, Dr Nelson sir, could you spell these values out to me? I no understand.
I sure as hell don't understand a government that refuses to officially apologise to the thousands of Aboriginal families whose children were stolen from them between 1910 to 1970s. Imagine, up till thirty years ago, Aboriginal kids were still being forcibly taken from their own families - to live with white families!! Oh, and let's not forget the White Australia migration policy that was only abolished in 1973.
So then, cultural assimilation Aussie-style, anyone? Tell you what, while there's still time, why not also grab these Muslim kids from their families and stick them with the white ones. That'll teach them a lesson in good old-fashioned Aussie values and beliefs.
Mind you, Dr Nelson is the same fella supporting the teaching of intelligent design in Australian schools. Intelligent design, or how an omniscient being created galaxies, dinosaurs and the platypus.
Puck has a couple of interesting things to say about intelligent design and culture/race in Australia.
- Australian Federal Education Minister Brendan Nelson, on ABC Online. Dr Nelson is meeting the Australian Federation of Islamic Councils to find ways to teach Australian values to Muslim school-children.
Clear off? Fine choice of words there from the Education Minister, obviously reflecting a very warm and welcoming Antipodean belief system in culture and immigration.
But just what the bloody dinkum does "Australian values" mean? "Mateship"? "A fair go"? If that's the best you've got, then why not hand every kid a can of Toohey's and force him to sit through an Aussie Rules match? Please, Dr Nelson sir, could you spell these values out to me? I no understand.
I sure as hell don't understand a government that refuses to officially apologise to the thousands of Aboriginal families whose children were stolen from them between 1910 to 1970s. Imagine, up till thirty years ago, Aboriginal kids were still being forcibly taken from their own families - to live with white families!! Oh, and let's not forget the White Australia migration policy that was only abolished in 1973.
So then, cultural assimilation Aussie-style, anyone? Tell you what, while there's still time, why not also grab these Muslim kids from their families and stick them with the white ones. That'll teach them a lesson in good old-fashioned Aussie values and beliefs.
Mind you, Dr Nelson is the same fella supporting the teaching of intelligent design in Australian schools. Intelligent design, or how an omniscient being created galaxies, dinosaurs and the platypus.
Puck has a couple of interesting things to say about intelligent design and culture/race in Australia.
Teenage Fanclub were a blast last night! Despite a few really, really bad sound cock-ups, the band was wonderful, very tight. They played new songs and old songs... lots of old songs which kept the drunk, above-25 crowd very happy, like Verisimilitude, Sparky's Dream and The Concept. Think they played almost the entire Grand Prix album... so good, can cry!! Oh, and, of course, a couple of songs from their new one, Man-Made.
Two facts of life became quite apparent at the gig:
(1) If you are going to be late at an all-standing show, try not to position yourself behind three 7-ft tall Aussie blokes while trying to reach the stage. You will get stuck.
(2) Bands with really sweet vocals and melodies don't look as young as they sound. See above pictures.
Establishing contact
Action Jacksons
Digging in
Anyway, so then Ching is in town. First destination (quite by accident): The universities' STOP VSU rally downtown, just in front of Town Hall. Pretty exciting; we pretended to be part of the mob, rubber-necking from the fringes, of course, like any good, obedient Singaporeans. At one point, it looked as though the chanting uni students were about to clash with the 6-8 coppers on horseback. Think the rally was planned for 12pm-2pm but by the time "tensions rose", it was close to 3pm. The police didn't allow them to continue with the march, so the mobbers did a scrum, inching forward bit by bit till they were allowed to pass. So, no clash. Pictures to come later.
Happy National Day, folks! To celebrate SG's 40th birthday, let me gently point you to the Singlish section of Swearsaurus. A bit Hokkien-centric, but, wahlau eh, si beh fun. "Bak jiu gkor sai!" Hehe.
Apparently, Swearsaurus is "the world's largest resource of multilingual swearing"; 165 languages OK, don't anyhow play!
My favourite ones are:
- "fartz du in gurgle" (fart in your throat, in Yiddish)
- "ananin amina cam dikerim, golgesinde seni sikerim trans" (I will plant a pine tree into your mom's p**** and f*** you in its shade, in Turkish)
- "kad tau ezhys kelnese ishdygtu" (let the hedgehog appear in your pants, in Lithuanian).
Snigger.
Apparently, Swearsaurus is "the world's largest resource of multilingual swearing"; 165 languages OK, don't anyhow play!
My favourite ones are:
- "fartz du in gurgle" (fart in your throat, in Yiddish)
- "ananin amina cam dikerim, golgesinde seni sikerim trans" (I will plant a pine tree into your mom's p**** and f*** you in its shade, in Turkish)
- "kad tau ezhys kelnese ishdygtu" (let the hedgehog appear in your pants, in Lithuanian).
Snigger.
Whither ginger? Refrigerator politics and the displacement of identity and the self in communal living
Published Thursday, August 04, 2005 by dee.
Yesterday, my jar of crushed ginger occupied an inconspicuous position on the condiment shelf of the refrigerator door. Today, my new housemate has taken over that tiny spot in the fridge – by replacing it with his own container of, yes, crushed ginger. Now my ginger jar sits in the middle of the first shelf, next to the seldom-used unsalted butter. KNN! You think your halia better than mine, is it? What next, all my groceries now doomed to the back of the third shelf? Snarl.
So am I being over-sensitive? Petty? Boh liao? A grumpy, unemployed moron? Definitely – but fuck me if this isn’t a sign of disrespecting my own space and status as lowly tenant. So... I’ve since asserted my rent-paying position by moving my kaya and chocolate to the front of the second shelf, at eye-level.
Anyway, here's a link – bash.org – from mrbrown. Funny stuff, this bash. It’s a database of really funny quotes taken from IRC channels. Worth a look.
So am I being over-sensitive? Petty? Boh liao? A grumpy, unemployed moron? Definitely – but fuck me if this isn’t a sign of disrespecting my own space and status as lowly tenant. So... I’ve since asserted my rent-paying position by moving my kaya and chocolate to the front of the second shelf, at eye-level.
Anyway, here's a link – bash.org – from mrbrown. Funny stuff, this bash. It’s a database of really funny quotes taken from IRC channels. Worth a look.
Speaking of horseshit, have you seen this? Can't remember where I got the link from but it's evil yet very funny. Neigh, downright hilarious.
Of course, that last post re: “whispering to chocolate” was utter bullcrap. I’ll let you in on a secret: I do not keep secrets very well, depending on how entertaining or libellous they are. Still, one of my New Year’s resolutions was to try and keep my mouth shut; think I’ve succeeded about 50% of the time.
Anyway, my housemate’s boyfriend moved in yesterday, along with his extremely cute ball of feline fur. Chloe (the cat, not the boyfriend) is grey/white and so damn soft, with the pinkest nose I’ve ever seen. Right now, she’s quaking under their doona, too shit-scared and bewildered in her new environs. Ollie, the dethroned princess of the manor, is throwing a hissy fit (as usual) and growling at the lump in the blanket.
The lump under the doona
A petrified Chloe
Anyway, my housemate’s boyfriend moved in yesterday, along with his extremely cute ball of feline fur. Chloe (the cat, not the boyfriend) is grey/white and so damn soft, with the pinkest nose I’ve ever seen. Right now, she’s quaking under their doona, too shit-scared and bewildered in her new environs. Ollie, the dethroned princess of the manor, is throwing a hissy fit (as usual) and growling at the lump in the blanket.
The lump under the doona
A petrified Chloe
Secrets eh? So many, whether or not you keep them. PostSecret is fantastic, a "guilty pleasure". Secrets sent in on hand-made postcards to the website. Some are laugh-out-loud funny; others are grubby-accountant-in-trenchcoat-with-binoculars type; plus the really depressing. Fascinating stuff. Me, I whisper my gawdawful secrets to chocolate.