Archive for April, 2012|Monthly archive page
This is my latest column over at goldcoast.com.au …
THIS is my last column before the Gold Coast City Council elections.
Thank goodness. I don’t think there’s much more of this garbage I can take, truthfully.
Yesterday we published the results of a Newspoll which apparently some of our more ‘passionate’ readers and social network followers disliked.
It seems, not only is the Gold Coast a ‘one-paper town’, but according to some of you, that makes the city Communist China and the Gold Coast Bulletin is the Party-run mouthpiece telling you who to vote for.
Is it a full moon?
I took calls yesterday from several Shouty People, who wanted to know why we, the Gold Coast Bulletin, are trying to subvert democracy and make people vote for Tom Tate.
How do you think we’re going to do that? Perhaps we’re going to send Matt Killoran and Geoff Chambers out on the road next Saturday, going from polling booth to polling booth threatening you all with baseball bats if you dare to tick a non-Tom’s box.
Or maybe we have a secret transmitter implanted in every copy of the paper, beaming out subliminal how-to-vote instructions.
Ah well … as one Shouty Person said to me yesterday, ‘IT’S ALL THE MEDIA’S FAULT’.
Meanwhile, I have no idea who to vote for as mayor.
With the exception of John Abbott, I’ve now met or talked to every mayoral candidate, thanks to our Wednesday online chats.
Having the candidates here in the newsroom has been an eye-opener for me.
Dean Vegas had my vote all locked up.
Lovely guy, very good with people skills, looks you in the eye — all things you would expect from a man who earns his living entertaining.
He also knew his own mind, and didn’t need his minders to put words in his mouth.
I liked his straightforward approach, and he seemed genuinely passionate about the Gold Coast.
But then a couple of weeks later he came out in support of a moratorium on the light rail and I took my vote back. Sorry, Dean.
David Power was very impressive, also. Good people skills, on top of the issues, also did his own typing and seemed to enjoy the hurly-burly of the online onslaught.
But … well, we all know what happened there.
Keith Douglas was the real surprise to me. When I met him at our front counter he had a copy of the city’s budget — a massive folder of information, and he was sitting reading the thing.
He faced the forum alone, needed no help from me or my team to deal with the flow of questions that came at him, and his answers were straightforward, to the point, and seemed pretty sensible to me.
Susie Douglas came with a friend, who did her typing for her, and who was asked for plenty of input. She seemed nervous and very keen to give the right impression.
Peter Young was very pleasant and seemed to enjoy engaging with the people who came to the chatroom to meet him. But his answers were boilerplate, stump speech rhetoric. Instead of talking with people, he spoke at them.
Eddy Sarroff was even more frustrating. He also gave rote, longwinded answers straight out of his policy documents. He also seemed a little depressed when he thought people weren’t watching him.
Tom Tate was, unfortunately, our very first guest, about six months ago — it can’t be that long, can it?? He also couldn’t come in to the office and took part remotely. But he was feisty and engaged.
So where does that leave me. Beats me. I suspect, reading back over my observations, that Keith Douglas will get my vote.
And I’ll be out there with my baseball bat on Saturday to make sure you all agree with me.
Seriously, people. Make your own decisions — we’ve got nothing to do with it.
I am in mourning tonight, gentle reader. I have lost a faithful soldier.
Just a couple of years younger than me, she was a fighter, damn it. Never gave me a second’s trouble, up until the end.
Even at the end she went down fighting, hanging on like grim death.
Farewell, Maxillary Second Molar, First Class. Your sacrifice shall not be forgotten.
PS. If you’re on the Gold Coast and you need a good dentist, I can heartily — HEARTILY — recommend one Dr Rhett Shapcott, at Oracle Dental … 5531 7259 … the guy is a pain management genius. And a top bloke, too.
Just finished reading this. I could blat on saying a whole bunch of stuff a whole bunch of stuff-saying people have already said, but I won’t because you know I love The Maddow, so it’s not going to tell you anything you don’t already know.
Instead, go to Drawn to Read, by Ward Sutton, an artist who draws reviews for Barnes and Noble, amongst others.
Gorgeous, comic-like panels, reviewing the book. Go on, click on that link and check it out.
And buy Drift: The Unmooring of American Military Power. It’s heavy on fact, dense on politics and very, VERY readable. It’s cracking.
I’m the first to admit that I know diddly-squat about the male of the species. I haven’t lived with one long-term for a quarter of century, so … clueless.
But, I go to the gym, y’know? A small gym, with two toilets … unisex all the way. And there is not one occasion on which I have walked in to that toilet and not found the seat up and a little sprinkle of boy-spray around the pedestal.
What the actual fuck, guys?
There’s a reason why girls pee sitting down. It’s because we are anatomically incapable of aiming.
(Yes ladies, I know, I know … under certain circumstances and with fair amounts of determination, not to say alcohol, that’s not strictly accurate, but let’s try and keep a few trade secrets just between us girls, yeah?)
But guys, you are perfectly designed for aim.
That’s why penises are exactly as they are. They have evolved to look that way in order to maximise the chances of you depositing sperm in exactly the right place to impregnate that pesky, playing-hard-to-get egg.
It’s called biological imperative. (Oh, Google it, would you?)
So, why, WHY, is it so hard for you to accurately deposit your piddle in a hole several factors of 10 larger than the average cervix?
I understand that penises aren’t perfectly symmetrical and that there are individual little anomalies that may throw your stream off-centre, but for crying out loud.
You’re adults — you’ve had those penises all your life. Have you not yet learned to adjust for your own nuances??
You step up on the tee knowing you have a tendency to slice and so you adjust your address to the ball, correct? You’re about to kick from the sideline for the match and the wind’s blowing left-to-right so you start it out left of the posts, don’t you?
So what on earth is so hard about getting that piddle in the pot, fellas?
And, while we’re on this vexed subject, if you do happen to miss, what is so hard about cleaning up your mess?? The paper’s right there. You don’t even have to work up a sweat doing it.
For fuck’s sake.
Here’s the thing. I learn more from my life experiences than I do from book-learning. Colour me weird.
Three out of every five women I have slept with have been ‘straight’. Their definition, not mine.
Now, yes, that says plenty about what attracts me in a woman, I’ll concede that. But does it not also say a heaping handful about the bullshit we talk to ourselves about our sexuality?
‘Oh, no I’ll never sleep with a woman/man, I’m straight/gay.’
People, here’s a revelation … if the right person comes along and they happen to be the ‘wrong’ gender, you won’t give a rat’s ass. You’ll go for it. Because they’ll be pushing every button you need pushed.
There’s an old lesbian saying — ‘every woman’s a lesbian if you hold her right’ … it’s bullshit, of course, like all these truisms on this subject. But perhaps ‘every woman could love a lesbian if she’s held right’ might get a little closer to the truth.
It’s a spectrum, folks, get used to it. One woman’s turn off is another woman’s turn on, regardless of the transmitting life-form. And, just quietly, what turns her on today, may turn her off tomorrow.
That’s not science, that’s just life experience talking.
As a friend of mine said today, the brain is the biggest sexual organ. Not your eyes, not your skin, not your genitals. Your brain.
Nothing irks me more than a closed mind. If you’re going to write me off as a partner because I have the wrong dangly and/or pink bits for the way you see yourself, then ultimately, it’s your loss, cherubs.
Don’t get me wrong … the spectrum thing? That plays all ways. I’m not for one moment discounting the life experience of the lesbian who cannot in any way see herself ever being with a man for very real, personal reasons.
I am not subscribing to the ‘you just haven’t met the right man’ argument, in other words.
What I am saying is, in my experience, people can surprise you. Let them, every now and then.