Glutbusters

It Takes Two, Baby

Check it:

Herald-Sun: Poll reveals Labor backlash.

The Age: Liberals face crushing loss at poll.

Preaching to the choir, anyone?

THIS WEEK...

...IN THE INCREDIBLE ADVENTURES OF JUSTICE MINISTER CHRIS ELLISON!

The year is 1941. Senator Ellison is riding high on his policy to check with the Indonesian government as to whether those pesky Papuan asylum seekers are legit or not, and still tingling from a congratulatory pat on the back from Prime Minister Howard.

He leans back in his chair.

What problems can I solve now I'm back here in 1941...?

...thinks...

...thinks...

BRAINWAVE!

Picks up phone, dials...

Ja?

Ah, hello. You must be Eva. Chris Ellison here.

...confused silence...

Senator Chris Ellison. From Australia. Calling for... the Fuhrer.

Ja. Please hold.

Doo-di-doo-di-doo...

Ja?

Adolf! G'day. I mean, hello. Chris Ellison... SENATOR Chris Ellison here. From Australia.

Austria?

No, no. Australia. Down south.

Ah, yes. You fight against the Reich.

What?

In the war.

What? No, I don't know of any war. The defence guy'd be taking care of that, whatever his name is. We don't really talk much to each other over here. Safer that way.

Anyway, wanted to run a few things by you. Bit of a mob's lobbed up here seeking refuge. They reckon they're jews.

Jews?

Yeah. Fleeing Nazi Germany. Loads of horror stories about death camps and the like.

In Germany?

That's what they say. Thought you'd be the bloke to chat to about it. You know anything about that?

Nein. We have nothing like this here.

I see. They reckon they're in for it if they head back.

Preposterous!

You sure? They're talking about... um... genocide. They got a leg to stand on?

HA HA HA HA! Absurd!

Ha ha. Yeah, absurd.

Nein. All are safe in the new Germany. They have no need to seek refuge in Austria.

Australia.

Of course.

That's what I thought. But, you know, gotta check these things out. Good government and all that.

I understand.

So I'll send them home. That okay with you?

Ja.

Terrific. Thanks for setting me straight, Adolf. Fuhrer, sorry. Cheerio.

Goodbye.

Huh. Sweet guy.

WHAT DISASTERS WILL SENATOR ELLISON AVERT?

WHICH ECONOMIC PARTNERS WILL HE PLACATE?

HOW MANY HUMAN RIGHTS WILL HE PRESERVE?

FIND OUT NEXT WEEK!

She WILL Be Sorry

From The Age:

Immigration Minister Amanda Vanstone has written an apology letter to a mentally ill man wrongfully placed in immigration detention.

The Vietnamese born man, only known as Mr T, was held in immigration three times between 1999 and 2003, at one stage for eight months, because authorities failed to check his fingerprints.

Senator Vanstone said the department had written to apologise to Mr T, but she felt that was not enough.

Yo' damn right it ain't enough!

I pity the fool who sends me to prison for a crime I didn't commit!

An Open Letter To Dick Smith

This post is simulcast on HandcuffedLightning, and submitted as a Letter to the Editor of The Age.

Dear Mr Smith,

We support your efforts to maintain an Australian heritage. Your recent efforts to prevent logging of Tasmania's Recherche Bay, your ongoing dedication to establishing Australian publications like Australian Geographic and the Australian Encyclopaedia and finally your Dick Smith Foods range are valiant attempts to promote a self-sustainable Australian culture and heritage.

Like you, we appreciate the logic that '[t]here are two key reasons to support Australian-owned companies – profits stay in Australia and jobs are created for Australians. If every Australian redirects $10 per week from foreign owned companies and foreign made products to Australian, Australia would save $4 billion per year and create 100,000 new jobs.' And of course, the use of your name and image in connection with these campaigns has indelibly linked you with the Australian made campaign.

But probably the most prominent use of the Dick Smith name and image is by your original business venture, Dick Smith Electronics. The website for Dick Smith Electronics explains the decision to use your name and likeness even after the sale of your business.

It's terrific that, well after the sale, the public still knows your face and associates you with a particular set of values.

Marketing material for Dick Smith Electronics states that 'a team of buyers scour the world looking for suitable products.' The list of brands stocked by Dick Smith indicates that this search is not in vain: the vast majority of brands for sale in DSE outlets are imported. Anecdotally, this observation is borne out by our latest trip to Dick Smith Electronics, to buy a (Chinese-made) DSE-branded stopwatch.

We would be interested to know how you reconcile the use of your name and image (both before and after the sale of your business) to endorse imported electronic products with your ongoing and passionate campaign to promote Australian products.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Peter (Glutbusters) and Clare (HandcuffedLightning)

Now I Get It

Prime Minister John Howard has backed calls by NSW Chief Justice James Spigelman for Australians to improve their manners.

Step up, team.

"Excuse me, Mr Umpire, but it seems that the baseline linesman and my opponent James Blake are both jigaboos and thus part of a white-hating conspiracy". (USE OF "MR" APPROPRIATELY DEFERENTIAL)

Mr Howard said he agreed with the chief justice and believed Australians were not polite enough to each other.

"If you wouldn't mind, get the fuck out of my country, you Lebo cunts". (POLITE, NON-CONFRONTATIONAL PHRASES ENCOURAGED)

"I think we have seen a marked deterioration in good manners," Mr Howard told reporters.

"ru horny baby? pls suk my cok l8r ok?" (PLEASE AND THANKYOU, MANNERS COST NOTHING ETC)

Mr Howard said he was particularly concerned about vulgar language used on reality television programs.

Of course. That's the problem.

Help Wanted - Apply Within

So, in this war of ideology, us good guys on the left (if you buy into the whole left/right thing anymore) are pretty much getting bent over. I don't like it any more than you, but we are being well stitched up by a gang that are:

A. ORGANISED - many of them go to church at 9AM SUNDAY MORNING! They don't spend their time together swearing at each other IN PUBLIC.

B. DISCIPLINED - Sure, you have your out-there Petrosexuals breaking ranks to cosy up to the doctors' wives, but anyone with real clout who steps out of line (are you listening, Malcolm Turnbull? Peter Costello?) cops a whack on the knuckles with a ruler and has to stay back to clean the blackboard dusters. Unity. UNITY!

C. GOOD (=BAD) WITH THE WORDS - If John Howard doesn't like a question he's been asked, he just answers another one. He knows precisely what he wants to say, and he says it, regardless of what lefty scum like Tony Jones (T, call me. P.) try to get out of him. Problems are very easy to solve when you get to decide what they are.

Alas, while the Tories are skilled at question-evading, agenda-setting, line-toeing, the best we can offer is the ineffectual (Kim Beazley), the self-congratulatory (Kevin Rudd), the self-righteous (actors, Geoffrey Rush in particular), the utterly out-of-touch and possibly quite mad (Germaine Greer), or the drunk (Bob Ellis).

Oh, and convenor of the Australian West Papuan Association, Louise Byrne, who was asked by ABC journalist Tom Iggulden why her association didn't notify National Search and Rescue when it learned that a boat load of Papuan Refugees was missing somewhere in the Torres Strait.

TOM IGGULDEN: Do you think perhaps given the treacherous nature of the voyage that perhaps that would have been a good idea?

[...pause...]

[...pause...]

LOUISE BYRNE: I don't know. It's not that treacherous.

OMG! WTF!*

We know why she didn't tell them. Because she knew that if she did, the Papuans would have either been turned back or incarcerated behind razor wire until their children tried to kill themselves. And if the Papuans had a competent advocate in Australia, these facts would have been made very clear.

DREAM LOUISE BYRNE: No, Tom. It would have been an atrocious idea, given this government's record of violating grossly the human rights of those seeking asylum. It's a horrible, horrible situation, but our government has created an environment where it is safer to remain at sea in treacherous waters until you hopefully reach land than it is to notify National Search and Rescue. This is what our country has become.

Hey presto. Louise goes from "psycho lefty bitch willing to break The Law for islanders who are quite possibly unclean/carrying bombs etc" to "passionate advocate dedicated to exposing the failings in our systems and fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves".

But no, we get "It's not that treacherous."

Stupid mistakes. We make them. They rarely do.

* Note irony.

Get Your Hand Off It

I just heard Queensland Independent MP Chris Foley on the radio proclaiming his opposition to the death penalty, yet declaring that he felt a minute's silence to remember Nguyen Tuong Van in the Queensland Parliament would be offensive to Australia's war veterans.

It's this sort of ra-ra, Anzac-spirit political grandstanding that gives me the shits. As if a minute's silence is an honour that must be earned through some sort of noble toil, like there's a Luna Park-style, "you must have done at least this much for your country to get this silence" sign through which only those worthy may pass.

Mr Foley, Chris if I may, a minute's silence is not a reward for effort, it is not an honour bestowed only on those who have proven themselves, by whatever scale you choose to randomly apply, to deserve it. A minute's silence is about us as a group, or a state, or a nation, showing our respect, our appreciation, our grief.

So I'd say in Nguyen's case, it's perfectly appropriate. Yes, as you so incisively point out, he is a convicted drug dealer. But he is a man who has been put to death for what in our country is a minor offence. By any scale, mine at least, he has received a punishment grossly disproportionate to his crime. What your parliament was doing was demonstrating its respect and its sadness for the incredible price that Nguyen and his family have paid for one mistake.

So make a stand, you petty bastard. Walk out of Parliament (with the Opposition) if it makes you feel like you're a bigger man. I know you country independents have your work cut out for you getting column inches, so I hope your weekly self-googling turns up a few more hits. Perhaps though, in the future, you could dedicate your self-righteous indignation to something a little more worthwhile.

Do You Know These Ladies?

I beetled back into my office the other day to find this photo on my pinboard:

Aside from the excitement that comes from unexpectedly (courtesy of an office mate) encountering an original 1981 photograph of Gough (check the very 80s rounded corners on the print), I was baffled as to where it came from.

Who are the women flanking EGW? Are they policy wonks? Devoted fans? Mistresses? Where are they? What are they doing there? Could that really be Alan Partridge's assistant Lyn on the left?

Please, if anyone knows these women, speak now.

Rally-ho!

Social action. You've gotta love it. I know I do.

I loved it this morning,

when 150-odd thousand turned up in Melbourne to stand united against JHo's industrial relations changes that threaten to set workplace relations back a hundred years.

And I loved it a few years ago, when an elite band of clandestine revolutionaries spread a top secret missive to the residents and guests of the Cohuna Caravan Park, urging them to meet at the toilet block to oppose the "Boss's" decision to ban fires (for insurance reasons - money-grabbing scum), thus depriving them of the social glue that held their little tent village together.

It's not about sending a message to whoever's decision you're trying to change. That's important, but for me it's about knowing that whatever the fight may be, I'm not alone. That there are people out there who feel the same way, who have the same problems, who will stand alongside me. Some of them are my mates, others I may never talk to (probably because of their terrifying handlebar moustache). But I know that in the dark moments when I think it's too difficult, they're with me.

Strength in unity, comrades.

Anti-Terror Australis

John Howard has declared that we should not expect immediate arrests with the passing of the new anti-terror legislation today.

Let me be the first to exclaim "Hoo-fucking-ray!"

It appears we are supposed to feel a warm fuzzy of faith in our democratic system because our new draconian legislation (with bi-partisan support - sigh) is not being used to IMMEDIATELY impinge upon the rights of citizens that the government has long-wanted to detain.

As if the fact that our rights won't be crushed tomorrow is some sort of consolation, nay, grand prize, for the fact that they may well be crushed in the future.

LATER: And what do you know. Another lie.

Falsely Accused!

1. The A-Team

L-R: Lt Templeton "Face" Peck, Col John "Hannibal" Smith, Capt H.M. "Howlin' Mad" Murdock, Sgt Bosco "B.A." Baracus".

In 1972 a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no-one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire The A-Team.

2. Christopher Lambert

"A Prison of the Future. A High-Tech Hell. Built to Hold Anything... Except an Innocent Man." It is the year 2017. When his wife is found to be pregnant with an illegal second child (they lost the first one! THEY LOST IT!), Christopher is imprisoned in a state-of-the-art underground hellhole. He eventually escapes with the assistance of an enormous truck. Rumours that Warwick Capper (as "Braindead Prisoner") contributed to John's escape would seem to have some merit.

3. Daniel Day Lewis

A happy-go-lucky, hard-drinking petty thief who liked to chase girls, Daniel Day, in the Jim Sheridan film In The Name Of The Father, was arrested in 1974 under the newly-introduced British Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), which allowed Police to hold a person suspected of terrorist activities for up to seven days without charging them and without providing them access to a lawyer or a magistrate. He was interrogated, physically beaten and deprived of food, water and sleep by police who wanted him to confess to the IRA bombing of a pub in Guildford. He protested his innocence until the last day when he signed a confession under the impression that he would be able to later retract it. He, along with three others who together became known as the "Guildford Four", were convicted and imprisoned on the strength of their forced confessions. Appeals failed. After fifteen years, the files hidden from Daniel Day's defence lawyers were discovered and he was released, an innocent man.

4. Gerry Conlon

As per Daniel Day Lewis, above. Oh, except it actually happened to him.

But don't worry, our anti-terror laws expire in ten years.

Narky Mark

A lot has been written by people sharper than me about Mark Latham's savaging of the Labor Party, so I won't go into any analysis of the political implications for Latham, the ALP etc etc.

What I will say is that this whole sordid thing makes me very sad.

Sad because I put my eggs in the Latham basket early on, and rode with him all the way. On my short-lived radio show (Glutbusters, funnily enough) we had a "Latham-watch" segment, a slot based on the premise that Mark was the future of the ALP and he was worth following, and also cause he called the Libs a "conga-line of suckholes".

Sad because after years of pissweak opposition under Beazley and Crean, I finally felt like I had a real Labor man who'd get up there and tell Howard to fuck off, who'd ridicule Alexander Downer for the poncy toff he is, and who'd drop the shoulder, Byron Pickett-style, into the rest of the front bench if he encountered them in the halls of Parliament House. Sad because here was a bloke who'd put his balls on the line and say "health and education - fuck yeah! And if you don't like it, you're a selfish prick!"

Sad because I was so convinced that the rest of Australia would see what I saw that I held an Election Night Party in eager anticipation, for which I printed out electorate profiles from Antony Green's awesome site and blu-tacked them to the wall for easy reference.

I still think that he would have been the sort of PM that made me proud of my government. Maybe that's naive and idealistic, but shit, someone's gotta be.

So I'm sad that it's come to this. But most of all, I'm sad that not only is he not around to drag the government over the coals for an atrocious exercise of their fancy new "anti-terrorism" powers ("piss off, you bearded university dick, and pay us eleven grand", government heard to say), but that he's pushing it off the front pages.

And so it goes.

Who Let The Kiddies Out?

Amanda, that's who.

What makes me sad about this undeniably good thing (don't even try, seriously) is that it didn't come about like good things should. Amanda didn't come to the conclusion that what we were doing to these children was cruel and inhumane. She didn't feel terrible about what she was putting these people through. No-one in Howard's inner circle was so overcome with shame at what their country had become that they resigned in protest and went to live in the woods with their family.

No, this came about in much the same way that a tobacco company settles claims from dying litigants: a balance of profit and loss. Moral factors, unfortunately, don't play a part; the decision is made solely on which path will end up costing less. And if it wasn't politically prudent to release the by-now-psychologically-disturbed children from detention, well, stiff shit, kids. Because you're not really people, just balls to be kicked around in political battles.

Nice to see, also, that Mandy has balanced the ledger by excising yet more islands from our migration zone. I didn't think there were any left to excise.

Love A Lib Day

If, in a twisted game of Truth or Dare gone horribly wrong, I was forced to adopt-a-Liberal, even for a day, I would Vote For Petro. (I suppose you could have some sick fun with Amanda for a while, but I think I would find it ultimately unfulfilling, much like the families of murder victims reportedly feel after witnessing the execution of s/he who killed their loved one. Toying cruelly with Amanda would be diverting, but it wouldn't bring back the pieces of this nation's soul that she has been systematically removing and destroying over the past few years.)

Back to Petro. Once again, he is showing my team the way, and demonstrating with one of the most lucid and convincing defences of multiculturalism in the face of Stop Terrorism fervour I have yet read that good politics rests not upon polls or perception, but upon sound ideas presented convincingly.

Idealistic? Perhaps. Naive? Maybe. I guess I should have learnt from the ass-kicking that Glutbusters pin-up boy Mark Latham copped in the Election that the truth won't always set you free.

Again, back to Petrosexuality's pin-up boy.

Here's some of the good gear:

The environment that [religious extremists] exploit to propagate these ideas was not created by multiculturalism but is inherent in the very character of Western democracy, with its commitment to freedoms such as freedom of speech, freedom of movement and freedom of religion. These freedoms long predate any concept of multiculturalism. Indeed, in Australia, despite our lack of a bill of rights, the constitution prohibits the national government from making any laws "prohibiting the free exercise of any religion".

Keep it coming...

[Post-war immigrants] wished for the opportunity to live with dignity, respect and equality. For many, this meant retaining valued aspects of their heritage.

Give it to me, Petro!

Multiculturalism was a rejection of forced assimilation, a recognition that we couldn't make people "Australian" by demanding they renounce heritages they value. It was a rejection of the notion that Australians must conform to a common stereotype.

I know it's basic stuff, but... I don't know. I just want someone to fight for me.

*sighs*

If only he was on our team.

Cop That, You Bastards

Or... Classic Dummy Spits Throughout The Ages

Mark Latham - 2005

Nine months or so after crashing to an election defeat at the hands of John Howard, former Opposition Leader Mark Latham's biography arrives, pointing the finger from beyond the political grave at:

State Premiers Carr, Beattie and Gallop: "A-grade arseholes"!
Kim Beazley: "a conservative, stand-for-nothing type of leader"!
The media: "drama queens"!

Ah, youse are all a pack of cunts!

Curiously silent on Mark Latham, though. Classic tanty stuff.

Jeff Tarango - Wimbledon, 1995

Pat Rafter said of Jeff that "he couldn't play tennis very well". Not to worry! The little known American player guaranteed his place in the annals of the game's greatest dummy spitters on the hallowed courts of the All England club. Dissatisfied with a line call, he remonstrated with umpire Bruno Rebeuh, who stood firm. He told courtside spectators jeering him for his petulance to "shut up", called the umpire "the most corrupt official in the game" and when docked a point for a code violation, packed up his bat and ball and went home, leaving his wife to slap Bruno for his troubles.

If you're calling that out my wife is SO gonna bitch-slap yo' ass, motherfucker!

Eric Cantona - Selhurst Park, 1995

A classic straw-that-broke-the-camel's-back story: the day Cantona did his nana. Premier League. 1995. Manchester United v Crystal Palace. Cantona, the gifted Frenchman. Able to do seemingly impossible things with a soccer ball. Famed for punching his own goalkeeper in 1987. Blessed with the ability to hack opposition ankles with an unusual brutality. Red carded after one such hacking, he stalked to the bench, his Gallic temper bubbling. A stray comment (allegedly racial) from "fan" Matthew Simmons was all it took to send Eric flailing into the crowd, studs up, to land a deft kung-fu kick on Simmons. 120 hours of community service (and a fair old knackering on the fence) followed.

Fuck World War 1! You English are all wankers!

Normie Rowe / Ron Casey - Midday with Ray Martin, 1991

Blue-haired ladies around the nation got the shock of their lives in 1991 when a debate on republicanism degenerated into schoolboy violence. Shock jock Ron the republican sneered at muso Normie the monarchist and Vietnam vet, called him a "bloody hero". Normie stalked across the stage, called Ron a "low rat". Ron stood up to take it like a man. Normie pushed him back into his chair. Ron sprung to his feet like a man possessed and landed a cracker on Normie's jaw. Ray shat himself. Security guards intervened. Awesome.

Yeah! That's the bloke! Had a fight with Ron Casey on Ray! Yeah!

Peter from Glutbusters - Peter's House, 1982

My third birthday. Hear that? MY birthday. So all you little pricks sucking down fairy bread and red cordial on my dime, you just get your filthy hands off my new toys. Play with the old shit, I don't care, just don't touch the new stuff. Don't touch it! I don't care if you gave it to me, it's mine! What's that, Mum? You're going to lock me in my room? Fine! See if I care! I'll just fire a parting shot:

"YOU CAN ALL GO AND GET FUCKED!"

Three years old. I'm not proud. I remember watching the kids from my mother-wardened prison, eating ice-cream out of those square cones. Pricks.

Contributions to the Dummy Spitting Hall of Fame welcome. Apply within.

How Happy Am I?

Answer: Pretty fucken stoked.

I lived in a hole for 47 days with a bag on my head thinking that I was only moments away from being shot / tortured / beheaded by those arseholes. I seriously thought I was going to die there. Honest. I thought that I would never see my family and friends ever again. Check me out. If I'm not the most miserable motherfucker you've very seen, then you must have seen the Tom Cruise Oprah special.

Yeah, you got it. Live with THAT for 47 days and see how hunky-dory you're feeling.

And now look at me! I'm back, baby! I am almost certainly mentally unstable, but damn it, all I want to do is knock back a glass of red or two, stick it to the wife...

(hot bird, eh?) ...then get down and see the Catters!

Up the pussies!

Yeeaaaaahh! How good is this! I'd like to thank everyone in the Australian government. Mr Howard, you're a brick. AD, man, you're my home-boy. All of you, you army dudes, wherever you're from, you did a bang-up job. I love you, Australia. For you guys to work so hard to get me home... wow! And all for a little guy who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this is the Australia I love, you know? The Australia that stands up for what's right and'll bend over backwards to help a fellow digger.

You guys rock!

Confused about what you're doing for this guy, though.

Cheers,
Doug

Attention: Kim Beazley et al

See, principles can be a good thing.

Don't let this slip, comrades. You're our only hope.

Stick It Right Up 'Em!*

Dear Labor Party,

I know that being in opposition is a shit job. You rock up every day, you try to poke holes in government policy, but in the end, you lose. Every time. Tough gig. The good thing is, though, opposition is like government without accountability. Not in an African dictatorship kind of way, but in a ten-goals-down-in-the-last-quarter-nothing-to-lose kind of way. It's your chance to articulate an alternative vision for the country, to give weight to the things that tend to get overlooked in government. Like compassion. Like social justice. Like pride.

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