Changing the subject...

Weight loss + age + dressing too young + numerous facial interventions

= scraggy old scary-looking hag

Sorry, but every year she loses it more for me. She's trying way too hard. Such a Material Girl, despite her attempts to go all spiritual...

Photo credit to GFY, my daily bread.

TAGS: Madonna, Go Fug Yourself

A nice surprise

Hooray for the Senate! One step closer to letting us make up our own friggin' minds.

Crazybrave, a much more politically proactive citizen than I, urges us to thank the people involved and urge the upcoming voters to do the right thing. I will be doing so.

I've probably mentioned this a number of times, I'll say it again. In my personal experience, anything that allows women to choose not to be poked by sharp knives when they HAVE to have their uterus cleared out is probably a good thing. I'm not talking about killing babies, peoples. I'm talking about pregnancies that have not thrived, that won't abort by themselves. They're called missed miscarriages, and they're very common. I had one at the end of 2004, and in the process of being D&C'd to get the blighted foetus out, my poor old uterus was perforated 3 times. Hence I had to let the poor organ heal for about 8 months before trying to get pregnant again, and I'm not getting any younger. Taking RU-846 may have been a better solution in that scenario.

That's only one slant on the issue. There's probably millions of other perspectives, as many as there are women who need to have the choice about abortion. Choice. Not prohibition.

Thank you, Senate, for a lovely surprise. I didn't think you'd do it. It's restored my faith in the System.

TAGS: abortion, RU-846, reproductive rights, Australian Senate, choice

A CAPITAL IDEA

Buying merchandise from Christians is a lifelong commitment, because you are forever on their mailing lists in the hope that if you are not one of them, then you may be wooed by their sincerity.

I woke this morning to find that Tim Todd,* uber-evangelist and creative genius of the Troof for Yoof Bible has sent me an email raising his concerns that another youth group has been using his trademarked name for their evil purposes. I know he is worried, because he uses capital letters a lot, a sure sign that he wants his readers to pay attention:

Revival Fires INTERNATIONAL, LOCATED IN WEST MONROE, LA, discovered that pLANNED PARENTHOODS use of the REGISTERED trademark “Truth for Youth” IN MEDFORD, OREGON, in conjunction with A campaign to teach students about the use of contraceptives, was not an isolated incident. Planned Parenthood of Indiana has also been using “Truth for Youth” to promote A SIMILAR sex EDUCATION CURRICULUM. According to Planned Parenthood’s website, The ‘Truth for Youth Indiana’ promotes a comprehensive curriculum to be taught in Indiana Public Schools that would teach students about anatomy, body image, contraceptives, disease prevention, gender issues, pregnancy, relationships, and sexual development. “Truth for Youth Indiana” IS MADE UP OF A COALITION OF ORGANIZATIONS SUCH AS: Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, FEMINISTS MAJORITY LEADERSHIP ALLIANCE, FORT WAYNE FEMINISTS, INDIANA NATIONAL ORGANIZATION FOR WOMEN AND the Indiana Civil Liberties Union.

How sneaky! Dirty liberals mounting 'A [sic] campaign' under the same name! Rapture! A bit further down, the capitals start getting more random:

“We fINd it ironic that PLANNED PARENTHOOD HAS ALLOWED ‘Medford Truth for Youth’ AND ‘TRUTH FOR YOUTH INDIANA’ TO DISPLAY INFORMATION ON THEIR WEBSITE using our REGISTERED TRADEMARK to promote a curriculum that conflicts with the message that the real “Truth for Youth” teaches. TODD SAID, “Planned Parenthood PROMOTING A SEX EDUCATION CURRICULUM IN TWO SEPARATE STATES, ILLEGALLY using our trademark, ESTABLISHES A DISTURBING PATTERN.” THE “TRUTH FOR YOUTH” TRADEMARK, ACCORDING TO TIM TODD, WAS NEVER INTENDED TO BE USED BY ANY GROUP TO ADVOCATE TEACHING STUD ENTS ABOUT THE USE OF CONTRACEPTIVES.

But wait! There's more! Eventually the capitals TAKE OVER THE WORLD...

THE HOPE OF TIM TODD IS TO TURN THE ILLEGAL USE OF HIS REGISTERED TRADEMARK INTO AN OPPORTUNITY TO MASSIVELY DISTRIBUTE COPIES OF THE “TRUTH FOR YOUTH” BIBLE IN THE MEDFORD AREA SCHOOLS. TODD STATES, “WE WANT TO IMPACT AS MANY STUDENTS AS POSSIBLE WITH THE REAL “TRUTH FOR YOUTH”, AND THAT IS THE WORD OF GOD.” TODD IS CURRENTLY PLANNING A MAJOR “TRUTH FOR YOUTH” BIBLE DISTRI BUTION BY TEENAGERS TO TEENAGERS IN THE MEDFORD SCHOOLS. “AS the opportunity presents itself, says Tim, “We will also distribute Bibles to as many public school STUDENTs as possible in Indiana.”

A brilliant scheme. I think there should be more co-opting of right-wing names for devious but worthy purposes. Any suggestions?

* Would you buy a bible from this man?


TAGS: religious politics, The Bible, Dummies

Team Australia

I was going to post my Australia Day tale closer to the actual day, but I was a bit intimidated by the quality of Austday posting in other blogs. I almost gave up on this story, but it's a bit boring having no camera, so I'll start using some older images and see if I can't keep myself amused until I can get a new camera.

Anyway, on Australia Day I went with my two lads, large and small, to Commonwealth Park, where there was no end of entertainment for the kiddies. The event we enjoyed the most, especially now that Bumblebee is old enough to tell real Wiggles from fake ones, was the Flyball display. Do you know what flyball is? Probably more than me. Hang on, I'll google it...

Oh! Apparently the event we saw was called Bark in the Park 2006. Cute. This is what the Australian Flyball Association say:

Flyball is a relay race between two teams of four dogs. Racing side by side, one dog from each team must go over four hurdles, trigger a flyball box pedal, catch (retrieve) a ball and then return over all four hurdles to the start/finish line where the next dog eagerly awaits.

Flyball is a team sport. Each team consists of four dogs racing in each heat, plus up to two reserves. Reserves can be interchanged after each heat. There are between three and five heats to a race, and a team has to win a majority to win the race.

It was terrific. There were all types of dogs, from yappy little things to huge hairy ones.


This one started well...


but seemed to develop an itchy bum on the way back.


One team absolutely fascinated me. They had sleek, slim, energetic BUFF dogs, raring to go and win. But each and every person in the team was overweight and puffing.

Meet the team.


Now, I'm not fond of making fun of physical attributes, especially those belonging to women, but I have to show you this. If I were on this team, I would want to kill whoever designed their uniform. My eye was caught especially by

Flyball Brunhilda. No idea what is in that pink bag on her front. It looked like a backwards bum bag, but it gave the impression that a large piece of her was hanging loose.

I mean to say, bicycle shorts?

It's just cruel.


These people must spend their time sitting with a stopwatch in their hands, egging the dogs on.


The dogs were hot to trot, or maybe just excited at the prospect of their owners moving a little!


This guy had the keenest dog. He was a smart puppy. He didn't see why he had to go over the hurdles, so he'd go around the side, and herd them a bit. This, of course, was instant disqualification. And his owner, the sharp-looking backward hat guy, got really, really mad. I thought he was going to hit the dog at one point. If he had the crowd would have jumped him and ripped him to shreds. I decided to keep walking around the park at this point.

Later on, I wandered back past in time to see a little Jack Russell scurry along, just clearing the hurdles. Very small, very keen. He ran up, hit the board, got the ball, ran back, and passed the baton to

an enormous Irish Wolf Hound. This guy loped along, barely breaking out of a mosey, stepping quietly over each hurdle, maintaining a huge amount of dignity.


He got to the backboard, stood on it for a moment, dipped his head and casually picked up the ball. Then he turned, looked at his owner, and seemed to sigh. Resigned to his fate, he started the slow, graceful lope again back to the start.


As he perambulated, someone announced over the loudspeaker that there is only one wolfhound in the world who has reached that level of flyball, and we just watched him do it.

The crowd roared in appreciation and applauded. After all, isn't that what Australia is all about? Carn the underdogs. We love a bit of pace.


TAGS: dogs, Australia Day

I had a dream last night...

...well, this morning probably. Anyway, it was so vivid that I wrote it down as soon as I woke.

I dreamed that I went to Casa Sorrow at Sill's Bend. Lucy Tartan was hosting a huge blogger's meet. We were greeted at the door by a well-dressed cat, who hustled us through to the living room. There was a large host of people milling about, a number of whom were cats. You were there, and you, and you.

The room was very modern, glaringly white, with lots of fur trimmings. There were many sunken areas, rimmed with couches. Each sunken area had entertainment qualities -- ie, one would have a sound system, another a visual system, another just games. Each was full of people.

Lucy herself turned out to be a large woman of medium height, in her 60s, dressed in a High Victorian mourning dress of glossy black silk taffeta. Her glossy black hair was piled high on her head. Very raven-like. She had an enormous shelf-like bosom and a huge bustle at the back, so she took up a lot of room as she moved around, greeting people.

There were three very old men sitting in the first sunken area. They turned out to be Lucy's brothers, one of whom was called Dorian. They referred to Lucy as The Sister all the time, as in 'I don't see The Sister, do you?', 'The Sister will be here soon, don't worry.' They ignored all the people, just fretting querulously to each other throughout the event.

Lucy was bustling around, constantly pulling out interesting things for everyone to do. The cats kept up the refreshments. Everyone was having a terrific time. I took lots of photos, only to find towards the end that my memory disk was faulty and that none of them had actually worked. And the phone kept ringing, and it was always for me -- clients, wanting their design work done NOW. So I kept missing out on the really good stuff.

But you -- and you, and even you -- looked as though you were having the time of your life.

Brave New (filthy) World

Running on the spot at the speed of light, that's how my life feels at the moment. And typical of me, I spent my only day of leisure upgrading the blog! I'm glad, though, because I need a bit of neat and fresh these days.

It's lunchtime, and I'm sitting amongst piles of rubbish and bags of paper for recycling. I'm at art school, and I'm surveying my new domain. Ms Brent* has left, taken a voluntary redundancy, and I have been given the keys to the studio** and a looooong leash. Still dogsbody, but independent dogsbody, with room to move, breathe and work at my own pace and make changes as I want (within budgetary constraints).

My new boss, who works downstairs, is efficient, literate (she likes the same literature as I do, whereas Ms Brent is not a book reader), straightforward, and as generous as being overworked and underfunded can allow her to be. She has moments of being scary, but I think that's a good quality in a superior, because then you don't get tempted to take advantage of them. And she's actively encouraging me to get involved with the printmaking students and to be part of the staff 'team', something Ms B actively discouraged. No more skulking through the corridors through groups of students I don't know.

Happy! Well, I'll be a lot happier once I've cleaned up the mess that Ms Brent left behind. I have to do a physical clean-up, then stocktake all leftover materials and artworks, making an archive of some of the latter and returning the rest to their respective artists. I have to finish a couple of printing projects, and then I can start a fresh page, so to speak.

So here I am, chucking shite, sweeping, scraping her name off the door and humming merrily to myself because she took the bloody stereo with her. It feels like a divorce. She comes in after hours and takes her stuff, and I come in next morning to find it gone. Lots of undercurrents and negotiations. So sweep! sweep! shred! chuck! Out with the old! Make it something new! huzzar!

[coughing from all the dust]


*Real names, of course, can't be used, but she reminds me (as I'm mentioned before) so much of David Brent (platitudes, mangled metaphors and even a CD of her singing bad covers) that this shall be her tag. Better than 'ex boss'.
**The studio is a lovely space where books and editioned prints are made. I will call it the 'BS' from now on because if I write it longhand, it makes the name of the space, and I don't really want to be too obvious about this. After fighting for independence over the last ten years, the space has now reverted back to being part of a bigger department, whilst maintaining its purpose and identity. I don't think it's a bad thing, which is why I'm sticking around.

Postscript: I feel, after sleeping on it, that I should explain a bit more about my relationship with Ms Brent. It's a bit complicated, in that I like her in many ways. She's a brilliant artist, and will be known one day as one of Australia's best and most innovative printmakers. She's a good friend when she wants to be. She would be the first to admit that she's a total workaholic, and this is what will send her all the way to the top. But like all driven people, she expects a lot from her workers, her family, her friends and her art. I've spent the last three years giving her my best, and I know she appreciates this. She just drives me nuts, and this separation of our working and personal relationship is tricky. But exciting. We are still working together on a catalogue at the moment, so there's three levels existing at the same time: breaking off a relationship of boss/underling, continuing work as client/service provider, and maintenance of friendship with many shared experiences. Is it any wonder I'm confused?

Remember to breathe

Happy Birthday Sorrow at Sill's Bend!

To celebrate I got you a bunch of pedants.

You're always a breath of fresh air!