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Monday, March 16, 2009

WAYVILLE: “I know the way for the sweet tooth, that’s the life!” enthuses a sugar crazed Payton L. Inkletter, pointing to Woolies’ confectionery aisle

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

In other news…

16th to 18th March 2009:

Monday: The alarm did its usual morning trick of a click minus the repetitive beeps, so it was close to eleven when I arose, having not been sufficiently roused from the depths of my slumber by said click, and began the procedure of coaxing life to my brain and outer layers, of this day that was to not be the epitome of harmony in the household…

I managed a short kitchen clean up and a cowboy watering of the back garden, before leaving on this warm to hot day for Bob’s. However, a lot of friction had generated much wasteful kinetic energy in my primary relationship between getting up and leaving, and so leaving was a relief. If old basic issues are left unworked on, for decades even, they don’t magically disappear; I am acutely aware of this, and thus believe strongly in working intelligently on such issues, thus greatly increasing the likelihood of their improvement, even complete resolution; and no, it’s often not a ‘fun’ activity, but the payoff almost always far exceeds the price. It’s a feature of the adult to adult world, and naturally runs on adult rules, not parent to child rules.

I dropped Pa pree’s evening meal off to him early, on my way to Bob’s, then called in to Colli & Sons in Malaga to look for a maintenance kit for our toilet cistern. Of course, nothing is that simple. Caroma have an information poster in the plumbing section there, and it highlighted the importance of knowing whether one’s cistern is pre or post 1982. As Murphy’s Brother’s Law would have it, our house was built not long after that, and so could easily have had a pre ’82 cistern installed, given that old stock might have been used. I queried the only staff member I could find, who directed me to another one who appeared from the depths of nowhere, an old bloke, who looked like he would know all about it.

I carefully explained the fact that I had a Caroma cistern, and that the poster made a big deal of the 1982 threshold, so ‘am I likely to find some number on my cistern at home that would solve the question of its vintage?’ He did his best to apparently take no notice of my information, my question, and my pointing out that a Caroma poster in their plumbing section made the point of 1982 clarification, and took me back there, showed me a non-Caroma packet of tiny washers, ‘Fix-a-Loo’ brand, plucked from an embarrassment of Caroma branded specialised packages of washers, gizmos, and whatnots, all aimed at the internals of Caroma cisterns, and said ‘90% this is what you need.’ We’ll see, we’ll bloody see, and if it isn’t, I’ll report back to the billions of my daily readers who, if not perched on the edge of their toilet seats, or against their bidets, doubtless will be tossing and turning and won’t be able to sleep well until they know if I’ve been able to arrest my leaking cistern, which has been making a tiny continuous flowing sound for some time. [Back from the future update: things move very slowly at our place, so a day later when I took a closer look at the packet – you thought I had actually worked on the cistern didn’t you! – I read that the washers suit ‘CAROMA, DOULTON & REBA INLET VALVES’ (non-Oxford comma you betcha!) Maybe the old boy knows more than I thought he did, or knows my wife, and has taken her advice to ignore anything I say.]

[Second back from the future update: I did warn you that things move slowly around here: today, Saturday 13th March 2010, the continuous noise of the cistern leak got the better of me, and I bravely took the cover off, and began exploring how I might get at the ballcock valve thingy. After much effort, when it was looking as though I wasn't going to be able to safely free up the seized nut on the plastic inlet column, it finally gave in, so I pulled the mechanisn apart and with confidence I worked the tiny old black rubber washer out of its seat with a knife, and replaced it with one of the new numbers from the aforementioned packet, then put it all back together. The outcome? The leaking water sound did not stop, but lessened. I was deflated, and will have to explore what next another time. It has only taken me a year to use the washers I bought, and I hadn't mentioned that I'd been hearing the leak for at least three months before I bought them.]

I took Bob to an initially quiet Swan Aquatic, but it picked up with the after schoolers. I wrote, read, and thought, while Bob did his laps, but I was somewhat out of sorts due the disharmony at home. I did a bit of a longhand edit of some of the first part of my old printout of Venty Still, now that I want to enlarge it into a full blown novel. Bob wanted to go to the Woodbridge Reserve for a change for our cup of tea, so Ray Marshall Park it was. A couple of ‘wild’ domestic ducks checked us out soon after we set up at the table by water’s edge, and when they realised nothing was going, they returned to the ‘quaqua’.

I got home about half seven, to an empty home, as Janny had stayed on at the Deelers, where she was taken by Murrah after I left this afternoon, he having to go and do quotes, so she could sit with a recuperating, but very weak still, Meg, from her cancer treatment. Janny ate with them, having cooked dinner for the family while she was there.

I battled with staying awake while I watched The 7.30 Report, but I most agree with Kerry O’brien’s first story about corporate remuneration and bonus packages, in that the sentiment is spot on that the Government and Opposition are big on rhetoric and small on action to do anything to rein the excesses in. I rustled up baked beans on toast, one of my favourite meals given the constraints of life in general, and watched the latter part of Australian Story. Now I’m missed too much to be an authority on this set of circumstances, but the whole situation seems very messy for Caren Jenning and Shirley Justin, the apparent assisted death of Graeme Wylie, but maybe if I catch part two next week I’ll be in a better position. It certainly pays to have nothing to do with an assisted death until the law changes enormously, it seems, and so many folk will continue to die with less dignity afforded cats and dogs, and much more suffering.

I remained awake for Four Corners, its feature this week being ‘Colombia's Mr Big’, and this sad portrayal of the deep corruption of business and governments by criminal individuals and groups shows how cheap human life becomes when big money is there to be made. Salvatore Mancuso’s fall is a typical and well trodden path, strewn with death near and far. I think folk quickly get in so deep that they cannot see a safe way back even if they wanted too. The human dilemma for those who might want to repent then becomes a dual pronged problem of our own fate and that of those depending upon or affected by us.

I came to the computer to write after this, and before I knew where I was, Janny was back, and things were a bit strained, and later I acted to break the tension by being the one to revisit the subjects of earlier today, in the absence of her doing it, a situation that invariably occurs regardless of whether minutes, hours, days, weeks, or months pass. My view is still that attempted dealing with problems is preferable, almost always, to avoiding them. To cut a long story short, and after more tension, things began to improve and have the potential for improvement, which is something.

I came back to the TV to watch Lateline, and it was disturbing that Sydney has to be blighted, like Melbourne, with organised crime and its deathly consequences, although many would say that the removal of Abdul Darwiche from the land of the living is not a bad thing (sad that it had to be witnessed as it was); if anyone should know of his questionable bona fides, surely former NSW Police Commissioner Clive Small should. And who should cap the piece off than that questionable asset to Australia, sheik Taj el Din al Hilaly, saying something at least that does contain grains of sense regarding the education shortfalls of youth, but I, and so would many Australians I’m certain, would like to see a comprehensive account of just what he thinks that education should entail.

Kirrin McKechnie’s report on the day’s antics in and out of Federal Parliament had the usual nonsense and simplistic politics to which we the long suffering citizenry have been inured. I’ve long come to expect the point scoring and mindless attacks from Malcolm Turnbull, but it’s not very inspiring when Kevin Rudd stoops to the Leader of the Opposition’s eye level as well, which may be not in evidence in this report so much, but he does it often enough in the annoying sound bites we are subject to from the media. Politicians are addicted to summing up some matter to the other side’s detriment with breathtaking stupidity, arrogance, hypocrisy, and reality warping simplicity. When I encounter one who rarely does it, I am impressed.

Ali Moore’s Lateline Business had the heartening rare success story of LED Technologies’ court success against copycatting of its brake lights product by the Chinese. Well done Tony Ottobre! Neal Woolrich revealed that the legal expense was $900,000: little wonder the copycatter’s are emboldened to do what they do, for the cost of pursuing them is so high.

I left for more writing, and returned to watch Letterman, who’s guest Will Ferrell was treated a bit like a god by the audience. More writing, and having rallied a bit, I went for a late walk, struggling with some health issues and mentally not so happy due the discord in the home. On this walk my trusty iRiver T10’s stereo began to fail, and it made it hard to listen to my favourite talking book through one earbud. I don’t know whether it’s the machine socket or the earbuds’ leads and jack. I don’t know where I would be without the thing, it has made a very big impact for good on the pleasure quotient of my life. I’ve got more into my favourite book than ever before over these past two and half years due to having it in this audio form.

I did a bit more posting to my diary site on my return, and ate a late snack while I read, before a shower and bed somewhere after five.


17th March 2009:

Tuesday: The chalcedony crocodile woke me, as arranged, about midday, so I could take her and Pa pree to his doctor’s appointment, but apparently I was very hard to revive, and so she took him instead, leaving me be. Well, I must have needed the rest, for some 13 hours after I went to bed I got up, and still didn’t feel all that flash. Apparently there must have been quite a wind at some stage while I slept, for when I charged outside in the minutes I had before My Beloved began at seven to point percy at the bamboo, which I am known to do occasionally when I want the outdoor experience, I was confronted with almost the equivalent of a death in the family: the three feet long top of one of my huge bamboo culms was on the lawn! It was from the Bambusa oldhamii, and tomorrow I’ll try to ascertain which culm was snapped. Its increasing height has now been curtailed, which is a pity, for their height is so much of their majesty.

We ate din dins and watched My Beloved and Kerry O’Brien’s The 7.30 Report. John and Gwen Coombs’ struggle to care for their son Garry was inspiring, as reported to us by Sharon O'Neill. We have a close friend who recently was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, and we can only hope that it is a disease which is cracked soon. The former Maritime Union head has my admiration for what he and his wife have done and are doing for their son and his daughters. The more stories like this one the better to inspire us all, and to give recognition to carers. Thank you Sharon O’Neill.

I couldn’t agree more with Nationals Senate Leader Barnaby Joyce, who opposes the Chinese Government owned Chinalco attempt to buy another 9% of Rio Tinto. Yes, this is a strategic matter, as well as anti-competitive, but I despair of our Government, regardless of its political colour, stopping it. The rumbling within the shareholders has hope within it, and that in fact would be the best place for it to be blocked: an enlightened ‘NO’ from the very investors who make up the company’s lifeblood. Poor Barnaby got his names mixed up when he called KerryTony’, which would suggest he might have just been interviewed by the youngblood Jonesy, or was about to be, or simply that he got his sugar canes crossed.

And I couldn’t be disturbed more – well, that’s a bit dramatic; I’m only trying to create literary consonance with the beginning of my last paragraph – by Benyamin Netanyahu’s likely formation of a Coalition to rule Israel, not because he’s all wrong, but because he’s infused with fundamentalist views little better than the idiots on the Arab side opposing Israel. What Israel needs is strong leaders who actually understand that, palatable or not, two disparate groups of people actually do have legitimate claims to the place, and therefore need to learn how to share it. Needless to say, so do the Palestinians need such leaders. Sad to say, there’s little hope of such leaders materialising and successfully leading their people to such an enlightened and mature state of affairs.

Having snuck the remote control away from Pa pree Inkletter, I switched to Insight from eight o’clock, and back during SBS’ adverts to ‘Lead Balloon’ on Aunty. Jenny Brockie is another of the wonderful, though small, coterie of very capable women in the Australian media, who more than give the men a run for their money.

I took off after Insight concluded, and worked away at various jobs on the computer, before returning Pa pree at about half nine. I came back to the computer, then worshipped back at the Lateline altar. Poor Missus InkleIcan’tstandcurrentaffairs, given my great like of Aunty’s offerings in this regard, and SBS’ as well. Now am I getting my wires crossed, or did Tony Abbott appear yesterday or today on The 7.30 Report as well as on Lateline, or only on Lateline? The archives are useless on Kezza’s site for researching yesterday’s stories, but Lateline is much better. The stories have got to be today’s or a few days old for Kerry O’Brien’s site to come up; methinks Kezza needs some more funding? Anyway, my point is that Tony Abbott struck me as having a hand up his shirt and being a puppet during his interview, whether I mean the one he had with Leigh Sales tonight, or a possible one with Kezza today or yesterday – my surreal dreamlike state much of the time and blurring of timelines makes it hard for me to recall that detail accurately, and I’m not sure that the archivists at Aunty are putting the correct dates on the transcripts; it seems one day later than the aired date, often – but boy that politician is spooky! Fixed penetrating stares, cybernetic coolness, Spartan ethical purity, infinitely measured vocal tones, wow, thank God there’s only one Tony Abbott in Parliament! [This was probably broadcast yesterday, as I think Tony Jones was in the chair tonight.]

Leigh referred to her recent interview with the Spectator’s publisher Andrew Neil while questioning Abbott, and I expected her to flush more with youthful virility, as she was certainly getting off on Neil during that interview; did anyone else notice? Ah, to be nubile again…

Good to see Foreign Minister Stephen Smith looking a tad less raggard, but just a tad, poor sod. And Tony Jones is well to talk about Afganistan being another Vietnam for the western allies. There’d be a chance to root them out but for the Pakistan border mountainous regions, where they regroup and build their reserves with immunity it seems. It is awful to see our Aussie soldiers dying on the receiving end of fundamentalists in this part of the world so foreign to our values. The folk we’re fighting for as well, they don’t seem to embrace our values at all.

My last comment for tonight’s program relates to Kirrin McKechnie’s report on the alcopops tax issue: Good luck to Senator Steve Fielding in his call to ‘de-hook’ as he says, alcohol sponsorship of sporting events as a requirement to get his vote; he’ll need a hell of a lot of it. You’ve got as much chance of getting the Government or Opposition of supporting that noble idea Steve as keeping an iceberg in good shape in summer in The Great Sandy Desert. ’Twon’t happen mate! At least any time soon.

Ali Moore again did a great job – as she always does – on Lateline Business. How good to learn, from Andrew Robertson’s report, of the resignation from the Rio Tinto board of former chairman elect Jim Leng in protest at the plan to sell a bigger stake to Chinalco. And I’m biased already about Jan du Plessis being the planned replacement for Paul Skinner, as he is the current chairman of British American Tobacco. Anyone who can sit in such postitions and expect credibility has my wonderment. Remember the nadir of former Premier of New South Wales Nick Greiner anyone, when he accepted a fat salary from the poisoned chalice of Tobacco, specifically of the just mentioned company?

Marc Faber was full of his usual doom and gloom, but then that’s his trademark, and it was entertaining to experience Ali Moore interview him. He does have some sensible stuff to say though, but I don’t agree with his faith in the ‘market’ to sort things out. Until the average man has a high degree of self-regulation, the market will have to endure a fair degree of regulation to avoid disastrous swings and meltdowns.

I had to leave my recording of Foreign Correspondent till tomorrow to watch, for blow me down if Letterman wasn’t on the verge of starting! How many fellow Aussies were struck with what a mob of ponces these Yanks are, while listening to the namby-pamby city boy nonsense talk of Nicholas Cage trying to explain his experience of the ‘25 foot saltwater crocodiles’ during his filming stay recently in Australia? Neither he nor Letterman had a clue about what Cage was talking about, and they came across as, in Schwarzenegger’s words as ‘outback girlymen’. ‘Pork chop’ my kangaroo carcass!

Wow that Rachel Maddow was something! I could listen to her wax upon much, and she was a breath of fresh air on the show. And Dave was very gracious also, as is his wont, to his credit. Letterman seems to understand when he’s in the company of talent.

I finally switched The Box off after all this marathon of watching, and returned to writing at the computer, having seen Janny to bed a couple of hours earlier. Near half two I went for my late walk, in the cool and still of this half moonlit night. The loss of stereo was bothering from my iRiver T10, but nevermind.

I returned to write two days of diary on this blog, and I cannot believe how long it all took! A couple of hours I reckon. Can you believe that? Helped by Emmylou Harris and her album ‘Cowgirl’s Prayer’, which is all I’ve listened to since buying it last Friday. I like every song, of course especially ‘Prayer in Open D’; ‘Jerusalem Tomorrow’ is quite interesting too. But I do admit to preferring lyrics which blatantly are selected for the sake of rhyme to be for humour rather than a serious evocation. This all took so long I didn’t get other writing jobs done. But come to think of it, I did do a few other bits and pieces in between during the couple of hours. Doing my transcripts checking on the ABC websites, and googling for this and that to corroborate my opinions expressed here takes a lot of time too, given my slow download speeds and the, at times, snail pace of even this improved computer. Doubtless there would be much more efficient ways to connect up the five hard drives, and to place and size the pagefile and whatnot, but I’m not up with enough of that.

Just now Janny got up, and began moaning in pain, as her right thigh pain began racketing up. I rushed into emergency pain relief mode, heating wheat packs, getting the Acuplus zapper for her to use, preparing a zydol for swallowing, and massaging her lower back. Eventually it subsided and she went back to bed much relieved; she even made me a platter of crackers, pickles, and cheese before she did! I said ‘No, Janny, DO NOT make me crackers and cheese! And so there, the subtle domestic violence against me continues...

This was incentive for me, after a quick shower, to return to the keyboard with said crackers and a hot mug of skim milk, to write some more, with the dawn birds singing and the grey sky softly illuminating by virtue of the sunlight of a new day. My eyes were bigger than my appetite; it was a close call however, and I dutifully glad wrapped up a single cracker with cheese and pickles and popped it into the fridge.

I began an enquiry letter to iRiver’s Australian distributors regarding the sound recording software on their latest models – hoping it would equal, at least, the T10’s superb software – and also wrote a letter to the editor for The Sunday Times concerning daylight saving. It was towards nine when I slipped in beside the chalky chameleon.


18th March 2009:

Wednesday: Too soon the chalcedony crocodile burst in, or so it felt, causing me to jump upwards in fright, out of my slumbers, to get me up and moving so I could take her to have a CT scan of her lower back over in Stirling. We picked up Pa pree and were there before half two, and it was comforting that Sterling Radiography’s long term radiologist, Cyril ‘High-Powered’ ‘Photon’ is still there, for he really knows his stuff, is gracious, and has scanned Missus Inkledickyback many times over the years. He laughed when I let him know that I have christened him with the middle name ‘High-Powered’, and the surname ‘Photon’.

While I waited back in the car after the scan, the delinquents visited the nearby Op Shop, then had me drive them further into Balcatta to visit another, before driving them back to Beechboro to stock up on supplies at Benara Fresh Markets and Avon Valley Beef. Back to our local Dewsons’, and finally, near six, we got back home, and I was one very tired possum. I got almost an hour of shuteye, then by arrangement with Janny got up to watch My Beloved, but this was a shortlived joy, for ten minutes into it a familiar knock on the door rang in, striking terror into my being. I informed Janny in the kitchen and retreated to the computer room, while she and Pa pree entertained the Mormon elders, who don’t seem to mind what hour of the day or night they call in, neither does Missus Inkles, it would appear at times. It wasn’t till about eight that they left, so I missed also The 7.30 Report with Kezza, which is a program I greatly enjoy.

My view of the interminable flow of Mormon missionaries who call here year in and year out has changed in recentish times. I used to give them great swathes of my time, but they change regularly, and a new crop comes through, and when all is said and done, regardless of their sincerity, they still are young minds, pumped up by the Missionary Training Colleges, to go and convert the heathen to the one true church, and if there’s anything more boring than constantly dealing with people in that mindset, overtly or simmering under the surface waiting for the chance to pounce and get you, then it won’t be much in advance of it in boringness quotient. I’ve found myself going over the same ground constantly over the years, for the young indoctrinated mind is remarkably uniform and simplistic; the infinite shades of grey and the nuances have yet to be noticed, if they’re ever to be (there’s no fool like an old fool sums up the sentiment hidden in my last point there in italics, and there is a surfeit of old fools, in every formalised religion, and outside of religion as well.)

If I was truly at a loose end, with nothing to fill my time with, I’d probably be more inclined to join in with these ever recurring Mormon visits, but time is short, and there is so much to do; thinking, solving, understanding; writing.

Murrah Deeler phoned and let Janny know that yesterday Meg returned to Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital, having developed a temperature, which is dangerous we understand for chemotherapy patients given their increased propensity to develop infections. She is having a bad run.

I rested through The New Inventors – another show I like a lot, but missed tonight due the spanner thrown in the works, and rejoined the little people for Spicks and Specks, which was particularly hilarious tonight, with Myf’s team taking their tops off to fulfil a pledge. The visiting group were wonderful, three women playing stringed instruments, and blow me down if I couldn’t find them on Spicks and Specks’ website! They were a folk group from the middle of Europe somewhere. Lift your service Aunty, and give us a comprehensive website to support the greatest show in your Australian line up!

Next we watched the season premiere of The Gruen Transfer, which, despite Wil Anderson, is always interesting viewing. Wil at least is growing up, but I for one won’t mind if he speeds the process up. The second highlight of the night’s comedy was the final, sadly, of Ruddy Hell! It’s Harry and Paul. I notice it had a 2007 date, so hopefully another one has already been made. I took Pa pree home in this interregnum, and tried to do a dash of writing briefly before Lateline. You know, I’ve hardly set foot in the backyard for almost three days, and this is not a good thing; my bamboo, my lawn, my worm farms, need my loving attention…

Anyway, back to The Box: Leigh Sales looked delectable as she fronted Lateline, her hair style just right tonight. To more important matters: her interview with Deputy Prime Minister Julia Gillard was good, for two capable women of manners discussing important things is uplifting. Not a good day for the Federal Government in the Senate today, with the defeat of the alcopops tax bill. I think it’s a good thing for Australian governments to not control the Senate, but the Senate then needs to be very responsible in how it wields its power. Our elected Government deserves to rule effectively, but not to automatically get its own way on everything. However, with the crossbenches inhabited by Independents holding the balance of power, there is more likelihood of an undisciplined Senate becoming a thwarting influence more than a shaping influence.

Karl Hoerr's report on Pope Benedict's African visit had me choking on my cocoa, for the pontiff was quoted as saying that a 'deficit of ethics' was at the core of the economic crisis; I couldn't agree more, but the breathtaking hypocrisy of the head of one of the most ethically bankrupt institutions the world has ever known telling us this would be funny if it wasn't so distasteful. Ethics, Benedict, is all to do with caring about and acting for the wellbeing of others. Countless instances of a vacuum of ethics to the present day within the Catholic hierarchy throughout the globe effectively disenfranchise your institution from having any credibility on the subject. Whether it be during the Second World War, The Inquisition, child molestation by priests (and insurance against claims for this latter), defining all but a very narrow range of sexual behaviour as sinful, The Vatican Bank, you name it, these self declared special ministers of God self righteous bastards have acted in naked self interest.

Let's have the investments of the Institute for Religious Works publicly released, past and present, especially present, so the world can make up its mind as to what are the drivers for the investment decisions it - aka The Vatican Bank - makes; are they maximum financial returns, or maximum social capital outcomes, that is, ethical investments? Let's see a list of depositors, past and present - that would be most informative would it not? - for making assessments of its ethical drivers. Let's see a worldwide listing of the investments of the Catholic archdioceses, or to whichever is the level at which the official church investments structure reaches downwards; that would tell us much about the ethical solicitude of the official money managers for Catholicism would it not? Nothing to hide? Great, let's see. How is God's work assisted by Catholic stewardship using financial instruments? Show us a model of ethical investment worth emulating, el Papa.

HIV will spread the more and the faster without condom use being encouraged in Africa and elsewhere for the same basic human reasons that 'celibate' priests will continue to have to be restricted and monitored against fiddling with kiddies entrusted to their care. How dare the head of one of the most sexually damaging and hypocritical institutions in existence lecture upon sexual morals! Sexual morals are very important, and so is healthy sexuality, but the education and leadership in this regard cannot come from such a source that epitomises the perversion of human sexuality. In case you haven't noticed Catholic hierarchy, God has caused, through biology, babies to be born half with male genitals and half with female genitals, which are designed to unite sexually, thus belying any teaching that promotes celibacy as a proper and healthy life course. Also in case you haven't noticed, God hasn't designed the desire and ability to unite sexually to evaporate when one or both of a couple become infertile. I would look to long term love-saturated monogamous couples who have successfully reared well adjusted children any day before I sought the advice of a 'celibate' group of self appointed men who believe they are God's chosen, but as a group their fruits of the spirit quotient seems not to be light years ahead of that of the masses.

What is ethical about sexual policy that discourages couples, through guilt, coercion, or societal restrictions, from controlling their fertility through contraception, thus leading directly to children who they cannot afford to properly care for as well as to overpopulation of the planet? [I have a bit more gratuitous advice for Pope Benedict near the end of the March 20th 2009 entry, currently here: MAGPIE: Why, when you see some magpies fossicking, is there almost always a mudlark loitering around the edges? asks an intrigued Payton L. Inkletter]

Lateline Business was extra special for me due to Senator Nick Sherry’s interview with Ali Moore. Senator Sherry was seen a bit today on the media, and more power to him. I would like to see more of him, for he must be a good role model for many since the trauma of 1997. I admire him for not shrinking from public life. And what a good fight he’s involved in at the moment, these disgusting perks corporate Australia awards to itself as a law unto itself. And Ali’s interview with AFIC Chairman Bruce Teele left me with mixed feelings about his wisdom: I think he’s full of bulldust when he wonders about ‘…if you're trying to go to the world to get world's best executives, get them to come to Australia…’ in the context of limiting the termination payments allowed without shareholder sanction. Bruce, if such a remuneration limitation meant we couldn’t get certain honchos from overseas, we’ll get over it I’m sure, we’ll survive, our own homegrowns will in general do a good job; I have faith in our own on ‘lower’ pay. I don’t think, in general, there’s a discernable meaningful difference for the health of a company between a dude running the show on one million bucks and another on ten million bucks. Yet he has my support with his concerns about the Chinalco Rio Tinto circus.

Letterman floundered a bit with his long session with Julia Roberts, but overall he could have done worse. Wow he hit a high point with that remark about lamenting the lack of transference of the ‘hydroelectric moment’ at the experience of parenthood, to our fellow man, and demolish the desire to kill one another. If it took Julia Roberts’ presence to bring that gem forth from David Letterman, Julia’s interview was worth it all for that alone.

It was now nearly one in the morning, so I did some more computer work, before embarking on a late walk on this cool night, after dealing with some health issues. At least my right heel ‘spur’ – maybe it was plantar fasciitis – seems to have begun to heal, making my right foot much more comfortable to walk on; it was really painful for maybe two years, maybe more. I used a set of ear buds from another mp3 player I was given by Dale Dumpling ages back but have never used, and they work fairly well with my iRiver T10, and stereo is back, so this proves the fault that developed a couple of days back with my loss of stereo is confined to my iRiver ear buds; they are over two and a half years old, and have had very heavy use.

On my return from the walk I wrote more of this diary, and am thinking of tweaks for Venty Still each day. Missus Inkles has been up and down like a yo-yo tonight, not sleeping well at all. This writing and eventual dual posting took a lot of time, given the online researching some of it took, and of course I lost a lot of time trying to add more later to the earlier posting via the Html Mode in the ghastly Blogger editor (MIRIH - May It Rot In Hell): it is hard to know where to add the new text to keep affinity with the existing formatting.

I did a big kitchen clean up, and as it was well and truly daylight I did a badly needed cowboy watering outside for the bamboo, and took a few photos of my monster culm of the Bambusa balcoa clump, which is five feet high now and off and racing.

After a shower it was, believe it or not, midday, and with a bowl of sliced pears courtesy of Janny the chalcedony crocodile, I watched the beginning of The Midday Report on Aunty. She looked ill while trying to eat some brunch by the way, poor thing, and it was the Byetta side effect again. I wasn't too long into the news when I heard a car pull into the drive, and it turned out to be Esther Grainey come for a chin wag with Janny and to drop off the goods from the party plan evening my missus went to at Esther's a month ago. Not wishing to burden the female coven, and given that I was about eight hours overdue to sleep, I ducked off to the boudoir with the relative lissomeness of a gazelle calf, and surrended to the embrace of Mistress Nod



Gladys Hobson said...

It has been very interesting reading your activities for this week, Payton.
First your row with the missus, next your affair with a washer (we had to send to the washer manufacturer to get one to fit ours), then your account of TV 'spectaculars' (or so they would seem) and your views on the political scene AND overall your night life! I am supposing that days are too hot OR are you a secret vampire that seeks blood for incurable anaemia? (That being an excuse of course — you just happen to prefer it to BBQ sauce)
So now I understand you a little more and the problems and pains you and Janny suffer.
I have to agree with RC business. I was most disturbed when I read the views of a bishop concerning the excommunication of a child of nine, her mother, and the doctors who found it necessary to perform an abortion to safe the life of the raped child. It would appear better for the child and her unborn twins to all die that play "God"! The girl's father was the rapist (had been since the child was six, if I remember correctly) And she was not the only one in the family. Asked what about the father — was he to be excommunicated too. But, if the report was correct, NO his crime was not as bad as abortion. (I think it was in Brazil but I expect it could be the same anywhere — or are some Catholics prepared to turn a blind eye?)
Frankly, with a church like that I would excommunicate myself from it! Such a view of God is beyond belief!

GOD'S WORD® Translation (©1995)
It would be best for that person to be thrown into the sea with a large stone hung around his neck than for him to cause one of these little ones to lose his faith.Luke 17:2

And I'm sure Jesus was NOT talking about the ones who saved the life of the abused and raped child!

I would prefer to think this story was made up for obvious purposes but we do know the views of the pope et al

Payton L. Inkletter said...

Gladys: Night walking: If you are in a climate that allows it, nothing beats walking at night, especially when most everyone is asleep, and the traffic is rare. The city is asleep, and peace reigns; one can think… It also gives insomniacs something to do.

Ah, the biggest church of St Peter… You know, some years ago here in Perth the local Catholic Church was exposed for buying insurance against possible claims for child molestation, after a number of cases came to light, if my memory serves me correctly, mainly in boys' residential schooling. Apparently the irony and hypocrisy of such a strategy either never occurred to them, or it was factored in as part of the calculations.

Where your treasure is, there your legal fees will go also…

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