The radio gives much solace as you deal with Melbourne’s ever increasing traffic, at its best it helps me cope with the scourge of the red arrow. I must vent at length about that one day.
Given the number of ABC channels, paid for out of our taxes and therefore light on the adverts that I do so loathe, I can usually find one where I can take refuge. It is largely a matter of avoiding the moronic (Red Symons, Richard Stubbs) and the raving left wing ratbags (Jon Faine, Phillip Adams, Rafael Epstein) and the cloyingly religious (Rachael Kohn) or all of the above (Waleed Ali). Plus the feminists and American Public Radio.
So maybe it’s the channel surfing that passes the time, until I reach Classic FM and safety in fine music.
The ABC wasn’t at its most balanced today.
Before 9 am ABC News Radio brought me a party political broadcast in favour of Kate Jones Labor candidate for Ashgrove, Queensland. Disguised as news, it had three gushing interviews bagging the incumbent. Julia Gillard followed, I bumped into two extensive extracts from a fawning interview. Oh, how she suffered at the hands of the increasingly schizophrenic, nay maniacal, Kevin Rudd, poor dear, not to mention the misogyny. Didn’t hear her claim that Kevin had ever been guilty of swindling low paid unionists. Had I switched to Classic FM at noon I could have heard the Honorable Julia Gillard make her selection of music hosted by Margaret Throsby.
The only thing worse than sitting at a red arrow when it would be absolutely safe to turn the corner, not a car in sight, is sitting at a red arrow listening to Julia Gillard blame the rest of the world for her incompetence.
“There are, in my opinion, difficult times which lie ahead and I sometimes question, I really do question, having known Mr Abbott for a long, long time whether he really has the temperament for that sort of thing,” Mr Rudd told Today Tonight.
“You have got to sit back and think and calmly reflect and then work through what the best decision is and judgment and experience are quite important.
“If any male employer stood up in the workplace anywhere in Australia and pointed out a female staff member and said this person is a good staff member because they’ve got sex appeal, I think people would scratch their heads at least and the employer would find themselves in serious strife,” Kevin Rudd 2013.
Kevin Rudd has admitted visiting a New York strip club during a drunken night while representing Australia at the United Nations.
Mr Rudd issued a statement yesterday to News Limited papers, confirming he went to the club but could not recall the events of the evening because he “had too much to drink”. Sydney Morning Herald, August 19, 2007.
Admittedly, New York is not in Australia, but there is one question I would ask Mr Rudd and that question is this (you will have noticed how I put that in Rudd speech) …
If there were strip clubs in Australia would it be reasonable for the employer to point out a female employee and say this is a good staff member because they’ve got sex appeal?
Now she does have sex appeal, tits of the nation, just ask Mr Yat-sen Li, ALP candidate for the marginal seat of Bennelong.
THE era of Kevin, interrupted by the Julia interlude, has been a roller-coaster ride. Having promised Howard-lite and fiscal conservatism, the excuse of the global financial crisis unleashed a period of rapid growth in government spending, successive budget deficits and mounting public debt under Kevin Rudd’s guidance.
Now, with Rudd’s return, Labor has launched a charm offensive that seeks to whitewash the past: it is as if aliens from Mars, fortunately departed, had been in charge.
Now that Miss Gillard has gone back to Mars it’s worth looking at the Rudd record …
…in the 935 days between becoming prime minister on December 3, 2007, and Julia Gillard’s coup of June 24, 2010, Rudd left Australians with at least $153 billion in unfunded fiscal burdens while wasting $100 billion of the community’s resources….
Labor has now achieved a net debt of $161.6bn. The May budget forecast an $18 billion deficit for this year and just a short time later it has had to be revised to $30 billion.
The populace were waiting for his predecessor with a baseball bat. We had a long shopping list that we would tick off as we enjoyed that delicious democratic moment. Oh, how I longed for it.
Kevni has a pretty good idea of what’s on the list and in an instant he has announced fixes for everything. The details, naturally, will have to come later. And, of course, we get to pay for it all later.
The trouble with most of what politicians do lies in the unintended consequences. Policy made in a rush, bargains struck in a hurry, are likely to have more than their fair share of side effects.
Oh, but how it’s galvanised the ABC. They were sounding quite down in the dumps before the latest palace coup, it’s a pleasure to hear them now, so up beat as they announce Abbott gaffes as fast as they can invent them. Every cloud …
And what a boon for the advertising industry. Every asylum seeker sitting down to breakfast in Indonesia only has to open their copy of the Age to know that they won’t be staying in Australia thanks to advertising paid for by the Australian taxpayer. Maybe that’s why the Age hasn’t made as much fuss about the new Labor asylum seeker policy as it did about the rather less draconian Howard policy of days gone by. Of course, only a cynic would point out that the advertising won’t reach the asylum seekers, it’s entirely about getting Labor re-elected.
Fleetcare, NLC and local car manufacturers are probably not so thrilled. Unintended consequences have caught up with them already.
Cyclone Kevni, whirling around, generating enormous wind. If you’re going to hit the ground running you really should take off the blindfold first.
It’s the mind-boggling condescension; the grotesque narcissism; the pretentious over-analysis of everything; the ludicrous thesaurus-mined vocabulary, that makes his every speech a weird froth of verbiage devoid of actual meaning; the overwhelming smugness; the insufferable conceit; the off-the-scale self-regard; the insane, all-consuming craving for unanimous awed recognition as the smartest person in the room (and any room); the teenage levels of self-aggrandisement; the hilarious bigging-up name-dropping; the crass, bathetic, utter inability to relate to anyone below his perceived level, AKA everybody; the primed-to-explode grievances that fester behind the rictus smile; the ridiculous OCD of the just-so white-shirt-coloured-tie-and-navy-suit – unless it’s a weekend and it’s the ridiculous OCD of the just-so-khaki-chinos-and-chambray-shirt; the painful fakeness of the manufactured persona; the desperate fist-clenching as he suppresses the anger that ordinary people make him feel; the lightning speed to perceive a slight; the drawn-out hundred-fold revenge in return; the delight in humiliating those beneath him; and the cloying, fulsome, gushing insincerity of his fawning over other world leaders.