Australian Left: Thine Name is Hypocrisy!

Now... I'll admit to being a card-carrying socialist. I believe that social democracy is still the best option out of a list of highly flawed political ideologies. But I'll have nothing to do with the pseudo-progressive, whiny, hypocritical, urban, latte drinking "lefties" of this country ever again... thankyoufuckingverymuch!!

Point in case:

Eight years ago, when the last United States president stepped up to address 226 Australian politicians jammed into the Reps chamber like kids at a Wiggles gig, he was barely two minutes into the speech when the heckling started.

Greens senators Bob Brown and Kerry Nettle jumped to their feet, wattle-sprigs aquiver with indignation, in protest at the invasion of Iraq... and all the latte drinking lefties (including yours truly) applauded.

But that was then... and THAT president was a man the left loved to hate, George Bush.

Don't get me wrong. I loath Bush and always have. But I also loath O'bomber... and therein lies the rub.

The stench of hypocrisy emanating from the left during O'bomber's recent visit to these antipodean shores was palpable.

"The One", as he's been dubbed by the Australian media, could probably invade Tasmania and no-one would mind. And the speech he gave in Parliament would have been received entirely differently, had it been delivered by the 43rd president of the United States, rather than the 44th.

Everything, from the opening salutation (in which the Big O mispronounced the PM's name) to the muscular expression of intent vis a vis the Asia-Pacific region in general, would have been construed differently by the "lefties".

Can you imagine Dubya, mispronouncing our Prime Minister's name as he used our Parliament to disclose his expansionist intentions in our region? Ignorant fool.
Dubya, breezily declaring himself done with conflict in the Middle East, and proposing instead to shift his tanks to our backyard? Warmongering bastard.

Dubya, snake-charming our PM into flogging nukes to India? Manipulative, interfering arsehole.

But when Bob Brown listened to Obomber's speech there were no such words... and no heckling from the supposed "left". Nay... they all lined up for a handshake with The One and a chance to kiss his presidential arse.

Brown went on to tweet: "I asked President Obama to support world heritage listing for Antarctica," "He said he'd look into it, and added to us Greens senators to 'keep up the good work'."

Holy sycophantic shit!!!

This is why politics is intriguing; sometimes, the identity of the orator is every bit as influential as the substance of what is actually said.

... and the substance of the "lefties" in this country has proved to be a pile of steaming, hypocritical, caca.

Blogger Sucks!

How's that for an articulate and witty title? Well, I'm sorry, but right now I have neither the motivation nor the inclination to be "witty" and my frustration is such that I'm motivated to resort to idioms which articulate it best. So yes... this site sucks the big one! Sucks like a salacious, toothless whore, in fact!

Ok. I feel better for having said that. Now let me expand on the reasons why I'm not a happy little unit when it comes to this site.

1. Leaving comments. (Mmmkay. Wanted to underscore this and can't do it from where I am... I'd have to go to "edit html"..... grrrrrrr. Well, no fucking underscore! Deal with it.)
Why can't the comment feature be universal? I mean... sure... I understand people like to be "creative" and "express" their "individuality" an'all... but does it have to extend to how I leave my comments?

In an effort to familiarise myself with the site and the members who are now my "followers" and many who aren't, I've tried to do the neighbourly thing... ya know... go around with a bottle of "plonk" (aussie slang for cheap vino), knocked on the door and issue a hearty.... I'm HERE! Let's party!! Only to find that the lights are on but no-body's home. Or the doorbell is so well hidden I have to cut my way with a rusty machete through your scrubby garden to find an opening. It's tiring. It's getting to the point where I just sit on the front lawn and drink the "plonk" myself... ALONE!

Why does every goddamn person have to have some different feature for commenting? Just the simple act of leaving a comment requires me to affiliate to some source or other and enter my personal details each and every time. Now, you can call me paranoid (which would probably be kind in my case) but I resent having to spread my name, email address and password around the net like some mad woman's shit! (No apologies for the graphic description there... I'm pissed. OK?)

2. Page Layout
For a technical moron like myself this site gives me stress-related hives! Ok... so I'm familiar with basic html. VERY BASIC. And in my line of work I just don't get to use it that often... not at all, in fact! We have techies who do that... people who have studied web-design and know this shit in their sleep. I'm happy with that. I can leave that to the "professionals"... just like I do when I call up an electrician to re-wire my house. I don't go out and get some manual on circuit design and try the fucking thing myself. Apart from the fact that it's illegal... the result would be disastrous... not just for myself, but my entire neighbourhood. But I digress...

I think you get the idea. For a Luddite like myself, having to learn HMTL get my page and blog to do even the most simple things is causing a headache. Well... you're stuck with it the way it is FOREVER! I refuse to risk my eyesight, my precious time and my sanity (or what's left of it) to "tweak" this page. Not worth it folks... not even for you.

3. Negotiating Posts.
Ok... here's another fucking time-waster! Either I'm a complete moron (which I'm starting to believe I just might be) or this Blogger shit has knobs on it (another aussie colloquialism for "majorly sucks").

If I click on your avatar, for example, I'm lead to your profile page. Whoooopie!! Great!! Now what the fuck do I do? Not that I want to deliberately insult anyone... because I've done the same thing... but profile pages are boring, especially when I'm trying to access your posts. Why can't your avatar link me directly to your blog page? After all, isn't that the whole point of fucking blogging? If I'm interested in your profile... I'll LOOK. Promise.

So... when I get to this scant and empty "profile page" and find nothing, I have to backtrack... find some post of yours in my "dashboard" (that's if you've actually posted one) and go from there. Then I have to bookmark your page so I don't lose it again... which I believe I shouldn't have to do if we're all part of the same goddamn site!

OK. There are many more irritating things about this which are making me regret I ever contemplated leaving Multiply. For all the problems over TOS... for all the drama and juvenile backstabbing... Multiply actually worked much better for me. Truly.

Deep breaths and chanting of soothing mantra.

In all seriousness... give me your honest feedback here. Am I being unreasonable? Have I not given this Blogger thing a chance? Because I'm about to call it quits... and I HATE doing that. I don't consider myself a quitter. I force myself to sit though 3 hours of boring, self-absorbed, intellectual cinematic wank because I don't like to feel like I'm quitting.

So, please. Talk me down from this ire and tell me I'm wrong. Tell me why I should stay. Tell me how to make this experience ENJOYABLE and not some exercise in acquiring Repetitive Strain Injury... my mouse and my fingers cannot take much more of this "clicking" back and forth. Besides, I just don't have the time.

Cheers.

Malice.

Nightswimming & Yellow Brick Roads

Cottesloe Beach, Western Australia
Canon EOS 50D, 24-70mm f/2.8L @70mm, 1 sec, f/3.5, ISO100


Last night I went down to the beach. The moon was hidden from view but the tide was flooded all the way in, so the contours of the beach in the glow of the street lights were different and unfamiliar, drowned in water and yellow light.

I took off my skirt and waded in. The water was cold. A surprising contrast from the ambient temperature. I stood for a long time with the water around my waist, feeling my legs tingle and start to get numb. I looked up at the night sky... dappled by a few wispy clouds. For the first time I noticed that the light from the boardwalk casts a path of yellow reflection in the water and shines directly out to the ocean... a yellow brick road, shimmering, out to sea. Like Dorothy, I felt the urge to follow it.

I finally got up my nerve and plunged in. I felt the skin of my upper arms contract into goosebumps, and I gasped with the coldness. I turned onto my back and ducked my head under, scalp prickling with the salty chill of the water.

Despite the fact that there was no moon it was too bright for very many stars, but I could see The Southern Cross and the Three Sisters. I rolled back over and paddled forward, nose just above the surface, out beyond the swell.

I forgot that the ocean smells different when you're swimming in it. It's a good smell. I stroked around for a little while, tingling with cold the whole time then floated on my back, lulled by the gentle rocking of the ocean. It felt soothing.

I closed my eyes.

... and I thought...

Few people want to know the truth or seek it out, no matter what they say. In fact, many people actively deny the truth until they are forced to deal with it.
We rarely see the world as it really is. Our perception is biased, our memories betray us, and our true motives often remain hidden... even from ourselves.
For better or worse, we constantly convince ourselves of things that are not true. We kid ourselves about the most basic things in life: Love; who we are; what is going on around us.
Most of the time we lie to ourselves in order to maintain a sense of control. After all, no one likes feeling vulnerable or helpless.
All of us experience the world through various filters - most of which are designed to make life more bearable.

Self deception. It's a bitch.

Eventually I swam back to shore, picked up my towel and watched a few fishermen casting lines off the groin. I wonder what they will catch. Who is waiting for them back home... if anyone. What are their lives like? Are they happy?

Music and laughter drifted across the road from the Cottesloe Beer Garden.

Life goes on...

I made my way across the still warm sand. The feeling was pleasant. I got into my car and headed for home and an unknown future. In the rear-view mirror I watched the beach, and the yellow brick road, disappear from view.

... not tonight Dorothy. The road to Oz will have to wait for another time.