The Silence of the Lambs

This week I helped kill six sheep, none of whom had knowingly done me harm, and all of whom showed appreciative enthusiasm when I chatted to them the previous night.

To say the lot of a farmer is a hard one has a somewhat obscene quality about it if compared to the lot of the sheep. Nevertheless, it is difficult for the sensitive mind to cope with abrupt juxtaposition of those most durable and adroit of bedfellows—Life and Death.

At least while sober.

Yes, I am a farmer—a writer/farmer, with the prospect this year of becoming writer farmer and politician. In a practical and emotional sense I owe it all to Maggie, whom I met less than 18 months ago and married last October—I think you know about that (if you don’t, let me know).

What you may not know is that Maggie and I live on an oh-so quaint cottage on a beautiful farm owned by Maggie’s sister and brother-in-law. We work the farm together, though much of it is left to my (new) brother-in-law Colin, who knows about such things. The closest I get to livestock is my computer mouse.

But on occasions, such as this week, I need to step in to help out.

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It's all Greek to me.

The ethnic brawling between the Serbs and the Croats at the Australian Tennis Open has a surreal quality about it but will come as no surprise to anybody who knows the history of the relationship between the two peoples. Even as a united nation (Yugoslavia) they were at each others throats and of course it got even worse when Yugoslavia disintegrated.

The brawling itself is unusual and has been stated so by Croat and Serbian tennis players and officials. This ethnic violence at sporting events apparently occurs nowhere else in the world, and the players themselves get on pretty well together—on and off the court.

So what is different about Melbourne, where the Tennis Open is being held?

I blame the Greeks.

I read that the Greek spectators have been egging on the Serbs while remaining just that—spectators. Which says to me one thing: the Greeks are the new Italians. No that’s unfair: the Italians at least went to war—didn’t win any, but at least they were there. The Australian Greeks on the other hand are cowardly content to stand on the side-line and watch others go for it.

How the mighty have fallen. Greece was once a proud nation comprising great military states such as Sparta and Athens that produced the mightiest army and navy of the known world. A near neighbour, Macedonia, produced arguably the greatest general of all time, Alexander. Now it has all come to this: standing back and watching someone else trade blows outside a tennis match in Australia.

Yet, when I think about it, it should come as no surprise. What has Greece offered of late? A police force that wears frocks and a musical starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton John. Even its contribution to international cuisine says something. In fact, to me, it’s the greatest indictment of all. While its neighbour Turkey offers us great meat dishes full of succulent mutton spiced with fabulous though mysterious tastes—great, solid fare a man can use, what does Greece offer?

A salad.

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Going Bush

“They invented the perfect tool for the New Dumb. They can now flourish in a land of serious stupidity and greed. They can infest the planet with every sick arsehole you can dream of and make him sound sane. Now, any cheap, lying fuck can become President of the United States and sound good.”

-- Hunter S. Thompson on the invention of computers to his friend Ralph Steadman, circa 1980, quoted in Steadman’s memoir The Joke’s Over (William Heinemann: London). In February 2005, four months after George W. Bush’s re-election, Thompson put a gun to his head and shot himself.

New Year's Resolutions

I think most of us at least contemplate making New Year’s Resolutions--something we resolve to do from the moment we wake on New Year’s Day; anything we are doing that night before we wake, such as the hardy-annual “I shall not drink again”, counts as the year before. In fact, most of us save up our resolutions for that moment, defying common sense and sometimes propriety for the simple expedient of creating an anniversary we can remember. How embarrassing and self-emasculating therefore that most resolutions don’t last beyond January, something we’d rather forget.

I made several resolutions this year, but will follow propriety and not reveal what they are; two are already consigned to history, anyway.

The history of the New Year’s Resolutions itself is quite interesting: the tradition goes all the way back to 153 BC. Janus, a mythical king of early Rome, was placed at the head of the calendar and the populace was required to make promises in homage. The fact that Janus was known to be “two-faced” says something for the credibility of most resolutions.

This brings us to George W. Bush.

I asked George if he had made any New Year’s resolutions. “Many,” he replied, among them his intent to finally read War and Peace, once it comes out in books on tape format and when, as he said, he can get his head around “this peace thing”. The President is also committed to having an exit strategy from Iraq—he got the idea from the Donald Rumsfeld affair: it involves getting rid of one war and replacing it with another.

Helen Clark was too busy to receive my calls when I wanted to ask her what her New Year’s resolutions were and her husband Doctor Peter Davis was unable to tell me what his were either—apparently he is still waiting for Helen to tell him and she is yet to return his calls. John Key quipped that his resolution was to get “the key to the door” and then the cheerful cherub displayed his mischievous nature by admitting that was last year’s! This year, he says, is to make editors making plays on his name in headlines—assuming John of course that there are any headlines for you to make.

Tony Blair and Richard Branson have eerily similar resolutions: they intend to swap jobs with each other. John Howard says he would think about it but would get back to me when he finished watching Australia obliterate England in the Ashes Series, the Australian cricket team said the would get back to me as soon as they had obliterated England in the Ashes Series, and the English cricket team said they hadn’t yet had a resolution but, like last year, one could be expected within three days. The New Zealand cricket team said they would be rotating theirs, but didn’t expect to be making many.

Graham Henry says he won’t be making any resolutions, predictions, explanations or comments, and how the hell did I get his number anyway.

Many other politicians, world figures and sportspeople refused, like Helen Clark, to return my call. But one did. To give Saddam Hussein his due (as one does), his simple and brief reply to my questions as to whether he intended to make any New Year’s resolutions was: “You’re kidding, right?”

New Year’s Resolutions? It’s all in the execution, I guess.

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