On Any Given Day

Today is International Women's Day. Do I care? No. Do I believe that most women, international or otherwise, care or know? No. It is just another of those days that come and go, created by goodness knows who to (usually) create awareness of goodness what—which it rarely does and is rarely necessary. June 1 is Children's Day, and 20 November is Universal Children's Day. If I was commemorated only in the first I would be somewhat aggrieved that I was perhaps not among the more prestigious "Universal" kids. If I was in both I would just be like most kids—greedy. But here we have two days creating awareness of children—as if we didn't know they were there already. But who creates these "days". Apparently most of the so-called official ones emanate from America—go figure-and are given authority by Act of Congress. The rest of we World Citizens get saddled with them—given to us by the same people who gave us George W. Bush (and don't start me on Jeb). So what else has this great nation of America given us? Well, as a bit of a light read, I thought I would give you the list of official days for this month (March). Personally I'm off now to have a big lunch—I love National Pig Day; and anybody who wants to join me to demonstrate Goddess of Fertility Day is more than welcome. Have a good Day. March, 2013 Daily Holidays, Special and Wacky Days: 1 Employee Appreciation Day first Friday in March 1 National Pig Day 1 National Salesperson Day - first Friday in the month 1 Peanut Butter Lovers' Day 2 Old Stuff Day 3 I Want You to be Happy Day 3 If Pets Had Thumbs Day 3 National Anthem Day 3 Peach Blossom Day 4 Holy Experiment Day 4 Hug a GI Day 5 Multiple Personality Day 6 Dentist's Day 6 National Frozen Food Day 7 National Crown Roast of Pork Day 8 Be Nasty Day 8 International (Working) Women's Day 19 National Agriculture Day (date varies) 9 Panic Day 10 Middle Name Pride Day 11 Johnny Appleseed Day 11 Worship of Tools Day - guys, you can relate 12 Girl Scouts Day 12 Plant a Flower Day 13 Ear Muff Day 13 Jewel Day 14 Learn about Butterflies Day 14 National Potato Chip Day 14 National Pi Day- Why today? Because today is 3.14, the value of Pi. 14 Popcorn Lover's Day second Thursday 15 Everything You Think is Wrong Day 15 Ides of March 15 Incredible Kid Day 15 Dumbstruck Day 16 Everything You Do is Right Day 16 Freedom of Information Day 16 National Quilting Day - third Saturday of month 17 Submarine Day - the hero sandwich or the boat?? 17 Saint Patrick's Day 18 Goddess of Fertility Day 18 Supreme Sacrifice Day 19 Poultry Day 20 International Earth Day 20 Extraterrestrial Abductions Day 20 Proposal Day 21 Fragrance Day 22 National Goof Off Day 23 National Chip and Dip Day 23 Near Miss Day 24 National Chocolate Covered Raisin Day 25 Pecan Day 25 Waffle Day 26 Make Up Your Own Holiday Day 27 National "Joe" Day 28 Something on a Stick Day 29 National Mom and Pop Business Owners Day 29 Smoke and Mirrors Day 30 National Doctor's Day 30 I am in Control Day 30 Take a Walk in the Park Day 31 Bunsen Burner Day 31 Easter Date varies 31 National Clam on the Half Shell Day

Dear John: Wogistan

Media Release: Team Fryday

MEDIA RELEASE TEAM FRYDAY. I am going to tell you straight. Contrary to the vicious unsubstantiated rumours going on out there, Fryday doesn’t do drugs and is not on any performance enhancing substances of any kind. Those spreading those rumours are nothing but losers, washed-up writers whose use-by dates are so old they is written in Latin and have now resorted to slagging off Fryday to get a few more final headlines. Fryday is a hard-working writer. He doesn’t need drugs. He’s done the hard yards, got the street cred. He’s drunk more whiskey than all of youse have had mother’s milk. He’s fought more bouts with writer’s block than you have had pedicures. He’s seen Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas seven times and understood it by the third time! He have learnt grammer and he knows how to spel. My number 1 priority and I am going to give this to you straight is to give Fryday the recognition he deserves—not hard mate when you consider that everybody he’s up against including probably you are s***heads and cretins. Who’s got the belt mate? Ask yourself that—who’s got the belt? Authorised by: Khoder Nasser Business Manager Teams Fryday and SBW. Word Count: 188 words—No I didn’t promise you 300 words!!!!!That's bullshit!!!!!!

Carpe Diem

It is rare on a Friday for Fryday not to have something to write about. Usually there is something worthy of a little borax or humour. Most of whatever that is comes to me late and Fryday is written hurriedly to catch the moment. Today there is nothing waiting for me: no gift, no pearl of wisdom, no interest from The Muse—and she is not a woman to be forced. No woman is, of course. A man is tempting fate if he tries to mould a woman into his ideal and schoolboy fantasy—or is it schoolgirl fantasy? A much better—and safer—route is to find the exact woman you want off the shelf. There are plenty to choose from. Fortunately I have never been particularly good at shopping. If my wish-list is a diminutive, submissive woman whose brain can be turned on and off, then I have been sadly amiss with those whom I have chosen to be my close friends and confidants. I am surrounded by wonder women none of whom completely fits my superficial ideal, my perfect woman. They are too perfect for that. This week I attended the funeral of a friend’s wife. As I recall, I met her only once but found her charming. She must have been quite something, for the manner in which she was eulogised and the devastation her sudden death caused her husband. I had to leave the funeral early, I have been unwell this week and vulnerable. But that too only demonstrated the beauty of women, a suite of whom enveloped me this week with compassion, concern and sincerity. They know who they are. So if I have somehow fashioned a Fryday celebrating women, foisted on me because I had nothing else to write about, let that not diminish the sincerity of the sentiment. Rather acknowledge if you will that we have a Fryday, and that, before I started writing it, I didn’t know how lucky I was.

Mr Speaker

To be the Speaker of New Zealand’s parliament is to be one of the most important persons in the land. It could be argued that you are there of and at the whim of the Prime Minister. But you have the right, enshrined by royal decree, to call even a prime minister to account, as did the (now) former speaker Lockwood Smith when he called Prime Minister John Key a naughty boy. I know Lockwood Smith well. I have had the privilege to meet him on many occasions—some have been political, some have been business and some (most) have been entertaining—Lockwood is a fine singer and poet and not slow to show it. In all those meetings and all those roles he has afforded me the greatest courtesy, something others have shared and this week noted voluminously. Lockwood is like that—old school. And if that is to be seen that he is also pompous and pedantic—also noted this week—then in the role of speaker those are not necessarily bad traits and could even be deemed to eminently practical. Lockwood, the dairy farmer from up north brought a gravitas to the role of speaker, something his successor, David Carter, the dairy farmer from down south, seemingly has the traits to emulate. Parliament can be a raucous place—Winston Peters on his own ensures it is so—and Question Time on television is pure theatre, I often wonder what my friend Whetu thinks of it, but with Lockwood Smith at the helm it was rarely directionless and if at times he came across as a headmaster scolding parliamentary school children—then that is simply what he was…and who they are.

The Fryday Fry Up

The blog version of Fryday goes out on the Internet and is of course accessible there to anybody anywhere with a computer and a connection. Whilst I can’t determine who is reading Fryday, I can monitor the numbers, where they are from and what they are reading. A random look at the blog stats yesterday got even me questioning Fryday’s attraction. It appears that one person (presumably one) spent over an hour in one session reading Fryday and in the process got through sixteen pages. Now, that is very gratifying and I am flattered that they found Fryday Quite Interesting (to coin a phrase). But what I found Quite Interesting was that the person was in Brazil and the entry-page they started with was an item on Tuku Morgan. What possible interest would a Brazilian have in Tuku Morgan, even if Tuku Morgan may be persuaded to have an interest in a Brazilian—underpants tend to chaff, after all. Nevertheless some Brazilian has taken to Tuku and from there ventured elsewhere in the Fryday Realm. Quite Interesting, and, yes, I am getting to that point—an unashamed plug for another Fry up: the Stephen Fry hosted, John Lloyd conceived, BBC series QI on Prime each weeknight at 7.00. It is truly addictive as the erudite Stephen Fry presents an ever-changing panel of comedians and other celebrities with an array of little known but (seemingly) unassailable facts upon which they are invited to comment by way of confirming or otherwise the veracity of such facts. Points are deducted if the obvious but wrong answer is given; points are awarded if the answers are QI—Quite Interesting. There is such a profusion and confusion of facts that I can’t remember them all, but here are a few from memory. See if you can answer them correctly. 1. In what year did the Second World War between the Allies and Germany end? 2. The Spanish national anthem is sung in what language? 3. How many legs has a centipede and what is extremely odd about the answer? 4. At one time or other one-eighth of all Californians have insured themselves for what? 5. According to a survey, 46% of all Americans can’t read well enough to read what? That’s the type of thing that in the deft hands of Stephen Fry QI on Prime is compulsive viewing—even if they are yet to find even one remotely interesting fact about Hamilton.

Slàinte, sonas agus beartas

Oscar Wilde said of the United States and the United Kingdom that they had everything in common except language. He was right of course. In their land of excess, Americans have paradoxically opted for minimalism in language. They have dropped more letters than a disgruntled south Auckland postie on P. And rearranged more letters than a Mt Eden prostitute on a good night. Color=colour, flavor=flavour, meter=metre, etc. Which is why I find it surprising, musing on this over the Christmas break, that in one area dear to me Americans have elected to add a letter, the letter E to whisky. They spell it whiskey, which is the way the Irish spell it and that in itself may be an explanation, given the Irish influence in early America. There are almost as many American whiskies as there are Scotch whiskies (in the plural both countries employ the E) and the distinctions are many. In the interests of robust research I have sampled—and will continue to sample—as many as I can. Scotch is the form and firm favourite for me though. Helensville is the site of the only successful Scotch invasion since Braveheart and will, hopefully, last a lot longer. There is little more enjoyable to me than the big blustery, take-no-prisoner single-malts from Islay (pronounced Eye-Lah) and the favour of friends. With that in mind and glass in hand I raised a few drams to you this happy Hogmanay. Allow me to do so again with a Scottish greeting I like, plus, appropriately, a translation for all my Fryday friends: May the best ye hae ivver seen be the warst ye'll ivver see. May the moose ne'er lea' yer girnal wi a tear-drap in its ee. May ye aye keep hail an hertie till ye'r auld eneuch tae dee. May ye aye juist be sae happie as A wuss ye aye tae be. The above, in translation, reads: May the best you have ever seen be the worst you will ever see. May the mouse never leave your grain store with a tear drop in its eye. May you always stay hale and hearty until you are old enough to die. May you still be as happy as I always wish you to be. Slàinte, sonas agus beartas (Health, wealth and happiness) Fyday.

Whetu Calls: It's in the water

MEDIA RELEASE Watercare Names New Chief Executive Watercare Services Limited has announced its replacement for outgoing chief executive Mark Ford. He is Whetu TeWhetu, a 56 year-old analyst from the brewing industry. Mr TeWhetu says he is excited about the challenges of stepping into the sweeping shoes of the versatile, if sometimes volatile, Mark Ford. "That's if he leaves his shoes, eh. I got to look under the desk. That's if those fellas gives me a desk 'cause I not had one of those before, eh," says Mr TeWhetu. Industry analysts say Mr TeWhetu should have little difficulty fitting into his new role, pointing to his substantial experience in the brewing industry. Commentators attribute the growth of that industry to Mr TeWhetu, and he is seen by some to be even its saviour. Mr TeWhetu is more modest but does agree that he, along with "colleagues and associates", may have been a contributor to increased beer consumption patterns, particularly during the league season. "What wes got here (with Watercare) is just another drink, eh? And we knows all about drinking, so Ise the right fella for this job." The Maori Party and Mana Party have both endorsed the appointment of Mr TeWhetu. Mana Party leader Hone Harawira says the appointment sends a clear signal to "whities" that Maori own water, and the Government should be "afraid, very afraid." Mr TeWhetu was previously Hone Harawira's travel agent. However, Mr TeWhetu himself is a little more self-effacing and circumspect. He acknowledges in his first media interview since the appointment that he is not quite sure what either term means, but happily confirms that he was "circumspected" at birth. Elsewhere in the political spectrum, opinions are divided. When asked what he thought of Mr TeWhetu, Prime Minister John Key was suitably succinct: "Who?". Opposition leader David Shearer was even more scathing, saying you cannot trust anyone from "that Cunliffe bunch." Mr TeWhetu denied any personal knowledge of Cunliffe. "Me and the missus don't do that sort of thing," he says. "But I do knows a few shearers in my time down King Country. Good fellas." When asked what his first decision will be when he takes the reins from Mr Ford on January 1st, Mr TeWhetu was characteristically blunt and decisive. "My first ting eh, is to change the name. Ise gonna change the name to Wai Care, eh? 'Cause that's what the fellas and the fellesses tink around here, eh. Wai Care. And for white fellas, they good Maori fellas." Mayor Len Brown says Mr TeWhetu will bring a new dimension to Wai Care. ENDS. For further information: you media fellas look me up on Googles or buys me a drink at the Kaipara Tavern on Satday.

Sick to Death

Yesterday I had the pleasure of enjoying a couple of hours in the company of a couple of intelligent and articulate friends. The adjectives are of course relative; all my friends are intelligent and articulate, in their own way rather than by degree. Each of us has a contribution to make to the world. Everybody enhances it. Well almost. I wonder if, like me, the child killers in our midst heartedly sicken you. We had another yesterday: Joel Loffley, the killer of two year-old JJ Lawrence. JJ is just the most recent of a long long list of such toddlers and Loffley is –most frightening—just the most recently convicted of an unknown number of killers and potential killers who will ram yet another photo of an awesomely cute young kid on to our televisions and in to our newspapers. This Fryday is, to be honest, not going where I wanted it to go. But I think there is a question to be asked. And it concerns commonality in such killers. Yesterday, I read that a couple of treaty settlements had been signed. One was for $10 million; the other—to Ngati Whatua Orakei—was for $18 million cash, other assets and an apology. We are told it addresses 150 years of grievances. And we, New Zealand, have to apologise for that. I take issue with that—both the predication, and the settlement that implicitly subjugates one part of society to another. There is not a lot I can do about it, though. However, if we are going to shell out that type of money to iwi (and we are told that Ngati Whatua now has $500 million in assets) do we not have the right to ask THAT question? That question being: When are you going to stop killing your kids?

Not Bothered

God Botherer is not a term I ever use to describe my religious friends. Mainly because I have no religious friends, or at least none deserving of that derisory epithet. But I know what the term means, implicitly and effectively, and it is entirely accurate. These people do bother God. They bother God because, I think, He’s thinking, “Who the Hell are they talking about ?” The God they are talking about—the tele-evangalists, the people who come knocking at my door—bear no relation to the God I was taught about at Sunday School. The God I was taught about was kind, compassionate, all-embracing; not a redneck, bigoted, self-styled moral arbiter with an obscene bank account and a hankering to delve into secular politics. Mitt Romney’s problems were two-fold. The first was that he represented a party with archaic values. The Republican Party, the Grand Old Party, is these days neither grand nor, given its ideological splits, a party. But it is old and long out of touch with progressive thought and a young vote determined to reshape the world. It will find it hard to bounce back from this, and almost impossible to do so in its present form. The second reason I believe that Mitt Romney lost this election—and I believe that he did lose this election, Obama didn’t win it (not with 8% unemployment)—was his religion. Religion is all very laudable, but when it governs all that you do, and therefore, if applied to a President, governs all that you and I do, then it becomes dangerous and these days unacceptable. We saw that with George W. Bush (remember him?) and the memory of war-mongering Bush is still fresh and haunting. It haunted Mitt Romney and ultimately—I believe—played a large part in his losing the election. I once said and remain of the view that the American presidency is so important to the world that Americans should be excluded from voting—its like putting a squirrel in charge of a nut farm; but on this occasion they made the right choice. Thank God.

For they shall inherit

A few weeks ago I had the occasion to write of the new-found pleasure of nieces, nephews and goddaughters. I revisit that today for two reasons—light and dark. The light is that it is soon to be my goddaughter’s birthday and, through that, I have found another pleasure—buying gifts. Happy birthday Lilia. Love you. Also on the light side of delight is the accumulation of pseudo-relatives: L in Whangaparaoa who has so much to share and G in Queenstown, whom I have met only once, but of whom I am taking a paternalistic view. And if my niece in Christchurch, Jessica, who shares my love of snail-mail, has not yet replied to my letter, I blame not her, but her mother. Get your act together sister. The dark side is this It is time for us all to put an end to the torture and liking of our children. It is time for us to state the obvious: there is no greater crime on earth than to torture and then kill a child. For those who are found guilty of doing so, of ending such a young life, there should be no life. If I am not advocating the death penalty for this crime, I am at least saying there should be no life of freedom, there should be no 12 years and then release, there should be only prison and death. This awful crime deserves nothing less. And for those who blame me—society—for these horrendous crimes: FO. If you were less PC about these things, and if you were to Google child torture and killings in New Zealand and then Google Maori child torture and killings in New Zealand and find a striking similarity of the two lists then we may start getting somewhere. Recognition of a problem is always a good start to solving a problem. Get real, get hard. Rest in peace JJ. I hope your sad, sad death will come to mean something for us all, specially our children.