Roy--You Rock Girl!

So Rodney and Roy have buried the hatchet in something other than each other’s backs and moved on. Their mutual adulation was somewhat nauseating and in Roy’s case more than a little mocking. But any smug satisfaction she now has, she deserves—she out-mastered the old dancing master himself and her sudden appearance in Parliament ahead of time and without notice was beautiful to behold, as was the look on Rodney’s face. Hide had nowhere to hide. Last week Fryday opined that the very public falling-out would hurt Rodney Hide more that it would Heather Roy. Some readers took issue with that, citing that Heather was out of a job and Hide wasn’t. I stick by my contention—I thought then and I think now that the incident would not only lose Hide his job in the next election it would consequently lose the Act Party its place in Parliament. The big loser would be Rodney Hide. I can’t see the events of this week changing that frankly. As they say, once a loser…

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You can run but you can't...Hide

A couple of years back I was waiting at an Eden Park bar (which you do) standing next to someone I vaguely recognised but could not place. I obviously stared at him a little too long because he stuck out a rather large hand and informed me that it was good to meet me again. Okay, he is the consummate politician but the incident shows just how disingenuous Rodney Hide is; he and I had never met before. I was reminded this week of that small incident when I read of his falling out with Heather Roy. Among Roy’s complaints is that Hide is something of a bully. He denies it. But I believe it—he has bullied just about everybody in Auckland over the governance issue. And no amount of dancing, glad-handing, forced joviality and sun-eclipsing attire will persuade me differently. They are simply Jekyll masking the real Mr Hide. No doubt he will run again in the next election, but I believe this destroying of Roy—along with the Super City issue—will damage him more than it will her.

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The Rat Pack

Opposite where I live is a cemetery. Its residents are for the most part quiet. They keep to themselves and don’t trouble me. Or my dogs. Nor do I trouble them. I do not venture over there at night to wake them. I do not invoke or insult them. And there is no intent on my part to instigate Satanist ceremonies and orgies. Indeed I doubt that Helensville harbours orgies of any sort anywhere. In fact, Helensville’s principal appeal may be that its cemetery is the liveliest place in town. It’s a quiet town. Quiet as the grave. Yet we learn today that we have reason to flee—a flea. It appears that the local rats of the rodent kind are carrying typhus carrying fleas. This does not come as welcome news, nor is there consolation in the hospital board’s less than comforting claim that “less than 2% of those who contract typhoid die from it.” We have all been instructed to be on the alert for rats and do all we can to eradicate them from the town. I will participate in that campaign with enthusiasm and vigour. I don’t like rats anyway. Nor fleas. But I do like life. I honour it and my life with my wife. And dogs. I have no intent to be among the 2% and join the folks across the road—nice as they are.

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Suffer Little Children...

Without humour there is no humanity; without humanity there is no humour. I think that just about sums up George W. Bush. Any humour, and indeed humanity, during his eight terrible years in office was mostly unintentional. Mercifully, he is largely forgotten (hidden?) these days though his acts in office are not. Not forgotten—and no longer hidden—the seemingly endless and tragic stream of infants beaten-up and killed by relatives and family acquaintances in this country. Another this week.
One can’t find any humour there nor does one look. Still less: humanity. These people do not have humanity; they seem barely human. Yet it is we in society—implied white society—who are held accountable for these atrocities while they are held as victims to that society. Surely we must bring to an end this resilient, archaic view and face the awful but I think accurate truth that something intrinsic is at work here. God help us, and our children.

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The Baron of Boring

Today I am going on a mystery bus tour to a destination that remains, well, a mystery. I have no great aversion to being on a bus, and none at all to my fellow travellers whom are all good people. What I have is an aversion to the unknown. I like to know where I am going. I like to plan and I have no great tolerance for adventure. That makes me I think as boring as a room in Hamilton full of South Africans talking soccer. But that is the way I am; everyman’s John Key, Canada and Hillary Clinton wrapped up in one—the Baron of boring. But it takes people like me to make people like you look exciting. It’s relative. I am sure that with your thirst and passion you feel you live exciting lives. I am sure you have just sprung out of bed and cannot wait to push on into the new day mining it for every gem of adventure and sensation that you think with confidence it will undoubtedly contain. And at the end of the day when you have exhausted it and yourself you will no doubt be replete with stimulating memories and rather than climaxing there you will turn your mind to the next day and be full of eager anticipation. I admire that. I envy that. And if it didn’t make you sound so much like a born-again Christian I might even like that. But anticipation, eager or otherwise, tends to bypass Helensville on a cold Fryday morning. In fact I may just well have seen it go past on a bus. Just not my bus. I think I will go back to bed. Enjoy your day; Kevin have a great birthday.

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Bain in the Butt

I don’t know whether it is Robin or David Bain who is guilty. I am tempted to say I don’t care, but I suppose I have to believe it is in everyone’s interest that justice is seen to be done and that whomever is responsible for this crime is brought to that justice…provided they are still alive. However I am on surer ground when I say my lack of an opinion can be fully justified because I wasn’t at any of the trials and I never heard the evidence in full, so any opinion I could have would be pure unsubstantiated speculation.
So, I have no opinion.
But what I do have is repulsion for Joe Karam and David Bain’s self-laudatory “defence team.” Karam and that team remind me of Sea Shepherd—disingenuous, irrevocable and patronising. But what really gets me is the news today that they (the Bain team) is suing Trade Me. Why? Because of messages about Bain posted by the public on Trade Me’s message board.
Now, whilst I acknowledge that I have no opinion on this case I also acknowledge that there are others who have. In my view they are entitled to air those opinions in any forum. That’s democracy. If Karam retains the right to say Bain (David) is innocent why is he of the counter view that someone should not be allowed to have a contrary view? It is after all just a matter of opinion and we are all entitled to exercise ours. Aren’t we?
So, for what it’s worth Joe stick to your case and get off ours.

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Walmington-on-Sea Gazette

From Dad's Army Programme

It’s War! Great Britain and France at War With Nazi Hun  I Defy Mr Hitler: Church Fete Will Go On—Vicar  Jones The Butcher War Special: Pork 2p a pound.

Great Britain is at war with Germany. Prime Minister Mr Chamberlain has declared war on Germany following that nation’s invasion of Poland. It is expected that the nations of the Empire shall follow suit.
In Walmington-on-Sea, Mayor Bertram Fosdick declared the town ready to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with King and Commonwealth in defence of the country.
“We shall not be found wanting,” he declared. “This is a time for all good men to stand steadfast in face of the enemy.
“I intend phoning Mr Hitler and telling him he will get a bloody nose if he shows his face in Walmington-on-Sea,” said Mr Fosdick.
Meanwhile our Vicar, Reverend Timothy Farthing, says he won’t be deterred by the announcement of war. “I think this Mr Hitler person is a very rough fellow and I will not be bullied by him,” promises the brave Vicar. “The church fete will go on this Saturday as planned. And once again Mrs Fox’s giant melons will be a sight to behold. I can’t wait to get my hands on them.”
In other reaction, Walmington-on-Sea bank manager Mr George Mainwaring says he will be raising a Walmington-on-Sea Home Guard platoon. He is calling on all men to rally around the flag. “We have good British stock in our town,” says Mr Mainwaring and the sight of them standing shoulder to shoulder exposing their weapons will not be one this Hitler chap will want to see in a hurry.

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Lady Hamilton

Let’s set the record straight.
Hamilton is vivacious, classy, cultured and aesthetically perfect.
Compared to Mongolia.
Just.
Did you know that Hamilton has a Facebook page? Yes, it has. You can find it here: http://www.facebook.com/HamiltonNewZealand.
There is a curious paradox here: whilst Hamilton is hardly worth a visit (why contend with the escaping traffic?) its Facebook page certainly is. How else would you know that “If your (sic) looking for affordable & professional beauty therapy in Hamilton goto The Wax Pot Beauty & Spa on 18 Claudelands Rd! Best Brazilians & Spray Tanning in Hamilton!” or “Hamilton is New Zealand's largest inland city, situated on the banks of the Waikato River, (the country's longest river).” Wow!
But some people do love Hamilton. One such appears on Hamilton’s Facebook home page (go there if you don’t believe me). Lisa Alica says of Hamilton, “I LOVE Hamilton !!! X O X O X.” Then again Lisa on her own Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/SoftLisa) also expresses an interest in Aliens, UFOs, extraterrestrials and, interestingly, something called CloneMike. And as well as the Hamilton page she also subscribes to the following: Semir Sam Osmanagich (discoverer of the Bosnian pyramids) , David L. Powell III , Alif 1 EBOO S.A.F.E. , Medical Ozone Therapy , 1,000,000 Strong Against Offshore Drilling , Recuirculatory Haemoperfusion RHP , Dr. Duke's Wild Ride , Bonaparte Lake Resort , Erich von Däniken's Official Fan Page , I Know What I Saw , NorthWest Music Scene , AmKon Dot Net , Stone Circle Video LLC and Jesus Daily . And this is Lisa. I rest my case.
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If butter wouldn't melt

 
"Princess" Laila.

Shane Jones and the second coming

I am tempted to comment on Shane Jones but unlike Mr Jones and before him Mr Wilde I can resist temptation. So let’s look to other, lesser, matters such as the Rugby World Cup. Are you over it yet? I am. The hysterical and statistical hype that surrounds this event puts it in the league of the second coming and I guess for many die-hard rugby fans it is, though for them league is an anathema with which they refuse to be associated. Having said that they all reside in the South Island so we can equally easily disassociate with them. For the rest of us, in the north, who have actual lives, the rugby would cup (and I commit here the capital crime of refusing to attribute capitals) is a parasitic boor garnering more attention than it deserves or will eventually realise. But it has curious paradoxes. For example, the Japanese team was training here in Rodney last week. Curiously, it had few Japanese. Clearly, they have a quota of “whities”. I am also reliably informed that they will when they return next year bring the sixth largest contingent of fans of any team in the competition—some 4500 fans. Strange. The teams above them must be bringing a massive number of fans if the Prime Minister’s prediction of 85,000 fans “at a minimum” is to be reached. Still, if Mr Key is correct in his prediction we can all expect to benefit economically and none will anticipate that more keenly, I feel, than the owners of hotel porn channels who must now be wondering where their future lies now that Mr Jones has his card taken from him.

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Condom in Court

A sexual abuse trial was aborted after a juror revealed he became aroused while listening to evidence from the alleged victims.
NZ Herald: 3 June 2010.

This is the case of sexual abuse of two young females, heard in Auckland. The elderly juror confided to another juror that he was being aroused but was “controlling it” by wearing a condom in court. I sincerely hope he was wearing something else as well.
Lawyers say the episode was unusual but not unknown and this was yet another reason to have sexual abuse cases heard by judges only. Well, I am incredibly relieved to learn that judges cannot get sexually aroused. I am not sure why I am relieved but it is oddly comforting that our judiciary is not prone to precipitate or even sluggish ejaculation. Clearly, they have it in hand. Or not.

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