Also, when good news is actually … well, good-ish news … sort of.
Bentley is still truant, but maybe back next week, unless he goes feral.
Some time ago, The ‘Pie was tickled by a TV sequence (was it Homer in the Simpson’s, can’t remember?) where the Grim Reaper discovers he’s made a error and it isn’t Homer’s departure date. The GR says to make up for the inconvenient visit, he will grant Homer one wish. Homer says he wants to win the lottery. ‘Wish granted’, the scythe-wielding figure tells him. ‘Yippee, when will I win it?’ asks a capering Homer. ‘The day before I come to collect you again.’ ‘Doh!’
That snatch of memory came back when reading in this morning’s SMH online, this headline:
Myuran Sukumaran
Bali Nine Ringleader Given Good News.
Days before he is expected to die, Myuran Sukumaran received a special delivery from Perth.
Good news? Short of being a cake with a hacksaw in it, quite a trick under the circumstances, you’d think.
Turns out the ‘good news’ is that the Arts Degree he has been doing by correspondence at Perth’s Curtain University has been fast-tracked and he has been awarded the honour ahead of time, and – it looks like – just in time. One wonders what the writer of that headline would say if uni academics had refused to make an exception, and told him he will have to make-do with a headstone sans BA – maybe ‘Bali nine ringleaders gets bad news’? Unintended gallows humour that seems to be lacking a tad of perspective.
While we’re with the media, small inquiry of the Astonisher’s Wednesday story ‘Fire Fans Miss Shot At Seats’. On the face of it, true, there was a big queue for tickets to the womens basketball grand final, but then how come on John Nutting’s ABC Breakkie show this morning (Saturday) we are told by a reliable sports boffin that there are still some seats available. Bit strange given there is a large waiting list of disappointed wannabee spectators, who would be automatically allocated any unsold tickets that had been set aside for visiting team fans. Just one of life’s little mysteries, one supposes. (And go, gals!)
In the national circus, it’s been a week when our Prime Minister has been looking –as reader Grumpy’s put it – about as happy as a possum on greyhound training day. As he stumbles from gaffe to aggression, the only bright spot for our PM came in New Zealand, where he received the traditional Maori greeting.
There at least, the blokes with the knive, axes and spears were in front of him.
But it’s more than the media now. This from Magpie blog comments during the week.
The Magpie February 26, 2015 at 2:50 pm (Edit)
It appears that writing irate letters to the papers or ringing Alan Jones or Ray Hadley just isn’t enough for some anymore. Look at what’s just bobbed up in the inner-city suburb of Chippendale.
Vaguely reminiscent of the now iconic posters of Martin Sharp for the 60/70/8os Sydney Theatre scene, the poster is the idea of a frustrated local graphic design artist.
Yup, no safety eyewear or ear muffs. No brains, either, and soon, no ….
That being the case, it may make Larry Pickering’s view somewhat redundant.
(See more of Larry’s cartoons and very forthright articles by Googling The Pickering Post.)
But it was Paul Zanetti who put his pen point on one of the more unremarked aspects of this whole circus – the pants-wetting of the media over all real or imagined micro-movements.
The ‘Pie’s only comment on this still-unfolding saga is that all these challenges to Wingnut’s authority are what army folk call ‘self-inflicted wounds’, an example of which was the nonsensical bit of political grandstanding about tightening up on foreign property ownership. We’ve all been waiting for something definitive to return some balance to our housing market, but The ‘Pie is buggered if he can see how a piddling $5000 application fee for houses under a million bucks, and $10,000 for every million over that, is going to cool anything down. In fact, all it is going to do is make a shit-load of money for the government, with the impossible home ownership dream remaining a modern nightmare in the major cities. This is even dopier than the PPL scheme … and treating everyone like mugs. Oh, wait, we did elect him, didn’t we , so maybe ….
Another ominous omen for PM Wingnut this week –
Singer Lesley Gore, American singer/songwriter, who died of lung cancer this week, aged 68
Omen? Well, two of her best loved songs were ‘It’s My Party (And I’ll Cry If I Want To), and perhaps most fitting for our Minister for Women and champion of our iron(ing) women, You Don’t Own Me, considered to be the first feminist anthem. Somehow an ironic coincidence.
On local matters, it is clear that the race for the Townsville mayoralty has already kicked into gear.
It started earlier in the week when the council’s Migaloo with glasses, Messagebank Walker, had a thought bubble about bringing a surfing wave machine business to Townsville (an idea suggested by yours truly some four years ago). The Astonisher did its usual wild overstatement codswallop about ‘Townsville, world surfing capital’ – really, their grip on reality – or humour if that’s what it is – is tenuous to say the least.
Now, this idea has bugger all to do with the council and for that matter, under present arrangements, is supposed to be the province of Townsville Enterprise. But it offered Mayor Mullet the opportunity for some measured scripted campaign quotes which said exactly nothing (‘always like to see new business come to town’ rackety-rack). Nothing like a free kick. Then she did something more substantive and assertive … taking credit for ponying up $400,000 of the ratepayers hard-earned for a new floor for the Entertainment Center, (actually, only Labor’s Colleen Doyle voted against the idea) to give the Crocs classier surroundings in which to get regularly shellacked. Keeping the Crocs viable is still an winnable argument but for how much longer who knows. For the moment, the money seems a necessary spend, and the mayor came out looking good for the most part. It is clearer and clearer that she now has political smartie Dolan Hayes as her campaign manager, and he is almost certainly whispering the right words into her shell-pinks.
Clr Tony Parsnip Parsons
The alternative mayoral hopeful is Tony Parsnip, who’d better not vegetate if wants to be in the race. He’s managed to make the running on the new CBD Developers Incentive Scheme, on which just about all councillors are in lockstep. So he looks set to go blow-for-blow in winning the hearts and wallets of the ratepayers.
But the real fun’n’games will start when there are some totally new initiatives up for grabs. The next likely exchange of pleasantries will most likely be over the much mooted suggestion that the council take Economic Development off the hapless Townsville Enterprise and bring it back in house. Despite Mayor Mullet being deputy chair of the TEL board (‘conflict of interest? Oh dearie me, no, what a silly idea’), The ‘Pie hears that she may roll over on what is believed to be a Parsnip initiative, because the community is starting to question the amount of ratepayer money that is being poured into Wishing Well House for the Dudley DoNothings.
But will there be any of what George Bush Snr called ‘the vision thing’, concrete, understandable ideas for real, visionary progress. Any ideas out there? How about ….?
Here’s The ‘Pie’s suggestion as a thought starter: a partnership with the private sector for light rail for the northern beaches. Looks attractive if for no other reason it would remove thousands of cars a week of already crowded and often dangerous roads, which would also cut down on pollution. And would mean considerable saving for commuters. And if that works … and there doesn’t seem any reason why it wouldn’t be a great investment for the future, economies of scale must be close to working now given the population explosion up there … the network could be extended to, say, Rocky Springs. In 70 years maybe even to Ayr, Charters Towers and Ingham. Then a high-speed link to Brisbane, then Canberra and Melbourne, and , and , and … phew gotta stop for a moment, The ‘Pie is getting dizzy. But come the revolution and he’s the boss, watch out.
Other matters.
Great front cover of the month goes to The Monthly (and we all know a month just isn’t a month without your Monthly.)
Elsehwhere …
Not surprisingly, much is made of Muslims capacity to be offended by the slightest perceived slight, so The ‘Pie has often wondered why on earth Volkswagen would risk the wrong-headed ire of Islamists by making this very pointed TV advertisement. The only people not laughing should be terrorists, but it still seems an invitation for VW to be targeted by those so ready to be feel put upon by a world not ready to recognize their fragile state.
So would Volkswagen really make something outrageous? No, they wouldn’t, but this turns out to be an object lesson on viral marketing, as explained by Steve Anderson writing at the Critical Commons media blog site.
‘While some companies eagerly court any exposure, Volkswagen was not pleased by the commercial, which was made on spec by two 30-something London-based creatives, Dan Brooks and Lee Ford, who work under the moniker LAD (or “Lee and Dan”). “We made it for ourselves,” explains Brooks. “Sometimes people talk about making something and never do it; we decided to do it even though it’s controversial.” While neither Brooks nor Ford will say how the 30-second clip ended up on the Internet, within days it was careening from desktop to desktop. It was blogged widely, and the hunt to uncover the makers was on. Once LAD was identified, angry executives from Volkswagen threatened to sue.
But they didn’t sue, and the boys got a heap of work from their escapade and VW got plenty of exposure and traction from it.
And here’s another car ad you won’t be seeing anytime soon. It must have been a long lunch with Quentin Tarantino when the boys came up with this one from Toyota. Don’t think Mike Carney would see to many sales in it.
Let’s let Zanetti have the last say.
Enough now, it is away to Poseurs Bar, and as far away from things that go bang in the night. Umm, wait a minute, let’s rephrase … oh, never mind, heh, heh, heh.
