Fool's Paradise – Infinity on a Shoestring Gender: Male (last time I looked); Writer; Thinker; Studier of the Human Condition (and chickens' entrails); Wonderer; Laugher; Listener; Character; Recent Optimist; Part-of-the-Solution Aspirant; Sarsaparilla, Cocoa, and ex-White Black Tea Imbiber (no sugar - plenty sweet enough); Twenty Eight Thousand and Twelfth Living Wonder of the World; Amateur Worm Farmer Extraordinaire and Professional Worm Admirer; Humus Assist and Humorist; Play Up; Yes-Hoper...
And I reckon: Reality is actually far better than the best any of us can imagine, the universe is friendly and funny, laughter is a powerful medicine as well as an efficacious antidote for self-importance, and the best is yet to come, despite any and all appearances to the contrary...
Friday: To avoid a 20 to 30 minute queue later in the day, I stayed up doing various chores so I could drive to the service station with a good price 3 kms down the road; worth it, being on empty and being 13 cents lower than every one else within cooee. And so I hit the sack around 7 this morning.
I arrived at Guildford about 4 p.m., and my first call with Bob was Centrepoint in Midland to buy him his annual birthday cigar, being one week late this time. We then walked the John George Walk Trail, but my mind was racked with a very recent relationship issue, taking some of the tranquillity out of the beautiful walk. We finished with his swim at Swan Aquatic and the obligatory cup of tea at Fish Market Reserve on dark.
Once home I was pleased and surprised to reach Mum on her hospital phone, being close to 9 o'clock. She may come out tomorrow, but we all feel that would be too soon. We acknowledged Dad's passing 21 years ago today.
With Cadbury spread out on my lap, moulting a bit, I settled in to watch Aunty. Janny had returned The Dear Leader to his place a bit before 9.
Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: My 'In other news…' and Abecedarian Project websites went a little mad today, and the searches which brought the flurry of visitors were mainly for 'Leigh Sales'. And this is best explained by tonight's Lateline being her last: Ms Sales moves next year into the big chair being vacated by Kezza the Great this month, who has hosted the 7.30 Report since 1788, when he was a young starry-eyed journalist for the BBC, embedded with the First Fleet. Kerry O'Brien went on to cover many events of world significance, including the Voyage of the Beagle and the Sinking of the Rudd.
Ms Sales was in a buoyant mood, and who could blame her, with a couple of the Chaser's guests, Craig Reucassel and Julian Morrow, to interview for a review on the year in Australian politics in the main, and the inimitable Stephen Long for his opinion on the year to come for the global economy, though she did have a short serious interview beforehand with James Ball, who is working for WikiLeaks. (Mr Ball's archetypical geek appearance softened the cut of the subject matter somewhat, fortunately; he would've made a good companion for Godwin Grech in the cold damp basement of Treasury in Langton Crescent in Canberra, never seeing the sun other than on the desktop artwork.)
What an offer! Leigh Sales committed to put a word in for James Ball with Treasury, to try and get Godwin Grech's old office, 10 floors beneath Langton Crescent, Canberra
Caught out! Julian Morrow underestimated Leigh Sales' mischievousness, losing his hairpiece in a deft piece of handwork by the talented journalist
Tuesday: But two hours broken sleep out of four in the cot, unable to sleep without eventually succumbing to my talking book and headphones.
Janny and I got to an appointment at Charlie Gee's by half nine, on this stinking hot day, high thirties Celsius. Before noon we were visiting Baby Inkletter in Adelaide Terrace, to drop of some supplements we'd been storing in our fridge for the last week for her, and we drove her to the Inglewood Library to save her bussing in the scorching conditions.
She finally has completed her assignments and exams for her Diploma of Education, which, assuming she has passed, will be her third degree; she will have to wear a triple deckered black flat cap at graduation.
Back briefly to Charlie Gee's for a prescription after dropping our precious daughter back home in the heart of the city, then finally home. I had to go to bed, and slept maybe another four plus hours till after dark.
Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Thank you Ms Sales for bringing us a superb interview with Jonathan Franzen, celebrated author, who has recently had his latest novel 'Freedom' published.
Mr Franzen was able to open up and give some exceptional insights, under the skillful questioning of Ms Sales, about the novel and about the phenomenon of writing. He wasn't afraid to assess the devaluation flowing from even interviews like the very one he was engaged in with Ms Sales, late in the time allotted: "But there is something about the process – particularly of doing interviews like this, frankly - that it begins to empty you out and you start to feel as if more of the language you speak is going dead on you." Give us more of this type of honesty and integrity any day!
I could not think of a better ABC journalist, a better qualified one, to conduct an interview like this. Being very widely read, intelligent, and with a satisfyingly broadening insight, Ms Sales helped her honoured guest share much of value, and much of unusual but fascinating interest.
For example, Ms Sales asked Mr Franzen whether he missed his characters when he finished writing a book, and he gave a wonderful analysis of what leaving his characters be, when he pens his final lines, means to him.
For this line from Mr Franzen alone, thank you thank you thank you, Ms Sales: "You know, once it's passed a certain hour in the evening it's time to be reading… because I need that time alone to commune with a book."
I imagine interviews like this one are like getting a favourite dessert after a long and punishing diet for the likes of Leigh Sales, who, for her bread and butter must spend mind-numbing hours grilling mediocre politicians who are all mouth and trousers, these connivers, shallow-minded common scoundrels in suits.
Monday: This is not a short story (although it may well become the fodder to write one):
***
He was running late as usual, as damn usual – ask his Missus – and so to stop for a hitchhiker was not going to help the deadline; his wife wanted to go to her knitting group at Caffissimo's tonight, and he wanted her to go, because it was soul food for the poor thing, overworked, underappreciated, and discounted regularly by certain close ones.
But to make the trip worthwhile, he needed to be back at maybe ten past seven at the latest. That was going to be a challenge, because it was Bob's afternoon out in Perth today, and he liked to make the most of it. Not helped by the party in full swing, with tables groaning under the weight of goodies, at Bob'sGuildford house, with more social trainers and their bosses than you could poke a stick at milling about, most of whom he knew, and felt obliged to acknowledge and chat a tad with.
He had even joked as he walked into the main room "How did you know it was my birthday?" He reminisced at length with Maxine, rarely seen these days, as she had been promoted 16 months ago to some arcane position in the mysterious corridors of the DSC. A favourite supervisor of his for years over Bob and all of his outings with said rascal. All the while Bob was finishing his 3 o'clock smoke and having a private cup of tea in front of his TV some metres away. A tonne of food, one of Bob's reasons for living next down the scale from tobacco, and he was determined to have a cup of tea on his own…
And so we left for the train into Perth even later than otherwise, due to the obligatory socialising to be done with colleagues old and new.
What of the hitchhiker, did you ask? Yes, powering along Marshall Road, the wonderful Whiteman Park's four thousand hectares on his left, he may as well have been a thousand miles out of Perth. There on the left, a woman in her forties, under a lone tree a few feet off the tarmac, hand out for a lift. Bloody hot, at least 35 Celsius.
Probably 15 years since he last stopped for a hitchhiker, he felt a sudden twinge of concern for an older woman, alone, in this heat, stuck out here, needing a lift somewhere. Pulled over, after some thinking time, overshooting by a hundred feet, maybe two hundred.
While she was hoofing quickly up to the passenger side, he was hoisting about five bags of things from off the seat and the floor, not quite moving it all by the time she arrived, opening the door, and hopping in as he just got the the last of the paraphernalia onto the back seat.
She had a small bag in her hand and a very low cut blouse, a plain faced woman. As he began asking "Where do you need a lift to?" she said, having just sat in the seat, "I'm a hooker. I'm from Sydney and need money."
This took the man by mild surprise, not shock, likely because he hadn't processed it fully, but he quickly said, with the mildest of irritation well concealed, "I'm running late for work, and I thought you needed a lift somewhere."
Just exactly what was said in the ensuing moments and in what order is a bit jumbled in his mind, but he got to reiterate his need to keep moving, and she got to imply that she didn't need to go to any place in particular but to get money, and it by plying any of the various skills of an ancient trade.
And so she politely vacated the seat, and he wished her well. He genuinely did. Not angry about what she did for a living – he felt sorry for her for that – but now under more pressure time-wise and for no noble outcome, like helping a fellow human being in need of a lift on a hot day.
As he digested what had just happened while he drove on to the controlled riot at Bob's digs, it dawned on him that she likely misunderstood one thing he said in repetition, as she faced him sporting sizeable in-your-face white breasts half covered, "I'm off to take out my intellectually disabled friend, who will be wondering where I am," touching his forehead. She said something he could not recall, but putting the pieces together she likely inferred that he was saying that he himself was intellectually disabled.
No argument from his wife on that one…
***
And by the way, Bob took his time in the city, we called on Baby Inkletter at her place in Adelaide Terrace (first time in about 14 years or more since they last met), and I did'nt get back home till a quarter to eight. I convinced Janny to go nevertheless to her knitting group, but she refused to let me drive her and wait for her there.
Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Former Prime Minister John Howard should feel grateful at how pleasantly he was treated by a professional Leigh Sales during her long interview tonight. He came across more reasonably than usual, certainly better than his self serving debacle with Tony Jones on Q&A to flog his autobiography Lazarus Rising.
Ms Sales asked a lot of good questions, and didn't tear him to shreds like Kerry O'Brien would likely have. This resulted in a better interview, because we mug public can suss out the pricks whether they're being treated nice or nasty.
One of my main bugbears with John Howard began early on in his prime ministership, when it became apparent that he was as conniving a politician as the rest of them, while having portrayed for ages the illusion that he was a cut above, of a higher calibre concerning integrity and such. It quickly became obvious that he was yet another ordinary polly with whom you had to study the fine print, and that he was set apart mainly by ambition. Common as muck; sorry Howard lovers.
If he had not placed himself on an integrity pedestal, I would not be making such complaints. An ordinary politician is nothing inspiring, but there is something inspiring about an ordinary politician who does not pretend to be extraordinary.
I finished reading Cormac McCarthy's 'The Road' today: a powerful book, well worth the experience, and I adored the last paragraph, laced with insight and anticlimactic.
Monday: How does she keep doing it? Leigh Sales has brought us yet another wonderful interview on Lateline, this time with Lord David Puttnam. It was a total pleasure listening to Lord Puttnam responding to Ms Sales' questions. These interviews are inspiring, and a welcome relief from the run-of-the-mill politicians we have to suffer ad nauseam. More such please Ms Sales. By the way, what a great interview Ms Sales brought us recently with Dr Vandana Shiva.
Monday: As I had got to bed so late – dawn – it was a late start for moi. I had a good excuse I think, having reworked overnight my draft of 'After the Rain' aka 'Man's Best Friends', a short story which I have to submit this coming weekend to have it considered for publication.
Convinced it was a swimming day with Bob, when I arrived at his place in Guildford, fashionably late, he informed me it was his city outing day. He is rarely wrong, so I rejigged my arrangements, and we were on the train about four o'clock heading for the Big Smoke.
He had a ball, for he so enjoys his Perth city outings with me. We did the usual things, and while I was sitting reading in the evening sun in Supreme Court Gardens as Bob planted himself on the grass some sixty feet away to eat his goodies, a full blood aboriginal man staggered over to talk with me. To overseas readers of this blog, full blood aboriginal folk in Perth city are rare sights, even in the entire South West, and I dare say, the South East of Australia.
I engaged him, and while his motive was clearly some small change to keep oiling his tonsils, poor fellow, he was soon fascinated by my questions and comments. We covered his blood clan out Warburton way in the desert, the rules and prohibitions of particular marriages, traditional music, bush tucker, Dreaming, and much more, with him giving me several – slurred – sentences in his tribal tongue.
And the intersection of coincidences struck me, for they happen uncannily so often in my life, with the fact that my short story I've been working on features a full blood aboriginal man I've named 'Gnamragan'.
Back home after 8, Janny was still entertaining The Dear Leader. I settled into the Player Recliner with tuck tuck and then had the pleasure of one Maine Coon who goes by the moniker 'Cadbury' going elastic upon my lap as I watched Aunty's lineup. Thus folk will cotton on to why I also now call that scrumptious piece of fluff that is my wife my Jayne Coon (Jayne is her real name).
Q&A was captivating, for Tony Jones had but one guest fronting his in-studio audience, former Prime Minister John Howard, and while it is unkind of those who say it was largely one continuous wank by Mr Howard, I can understand why they would say it. He was undoubtedly a successful Prime Minister, but he was not a great one. The three years out of office have evidently not yet added to his greatness quotient. He was merely successful.
I look for humility, willingness to admit errors, even serious ones, fallibility, exposure of warts within one's makeup, these kind of things as part of the features of a great person. Forgiveness of the hurtful failings of others, not taking oneself too seriously, aspirations higher than the sky grounded by pragmatism and balance, that kind of stuff. Neither for that matter was nor is former Prime Minister Kevin Rudd great: if from no other evidence, his resignation speech. Greatness is a very rare quality in politicians, in anyone for that matter. And I am not great either, far from it, but I recognise greatness when I encounter it.
Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Wow Ms Sales brought us a fabulous interview with Barnaby Joyce tonight!
What an entertaining fellow this politician is. Never should he be let near a ministry, shadow or substantive, because he is a loose cannon who could keep an army of diplomats in overtime for a thousand years, but he is very useful as badly needed yeast in the political bowl.
Ms Sales obviously enjoyed herself, and it appeared she had dosed heavily on a dozen espressos before this interview, because she was on fire and shooting questions like a Gatling gun, but it worked, and Mr Joyce held his own. It's been many an interview since any ABC journalist got so many words in between a politician's ramblings.
To be fair to Mr Joyce, he expressed a great deal of wisdom, smattered as always with his unique brand of whackiness, more so than most politicians are prepared to or are capable of.
Now in my opinion Mr Joyce's analysis of the Murray-Darling Basin Plan's social and economiceffects was inspired, especially his example of the repercussions for life-time working pensioners who have fully paid for their houses in those towns, as was his comeback to Ms Sales on the National Broadband Network. His remark "…and I want a Maserati, it's just a case of whether I can afford it. I mean, there's no doubt that people would love, you know, broadband and we want to deliver broadband, but you gotta cut the suit to fit the wearer." Brilliant comeback, regardless of the nitty gritty of the actual affordability for our nation.
Tuesday: I chatted to cousin Vee in Broome today, to catch up with his health outcomes, and there is some encouraging news with a little weight gain.
Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Ms Sales interviewed Prime Minister Julia Gillard, both in Canberra, and it was well worth watching for several reasons, least of all the fact that both women looked fabulous.
Leigh Sales asked, and kept asking, some challenging questions, of Prime Minister Julia Gillard, fragrantly and professionally, on Lateline
As an aside, we might have been witnessing the current Prime Minister being interviewed by a future Prime Minister. I've said it before. Ms Sales would have to summons up some (artificial) Inner Mongrel, because politicians, especially leaders, seem to need a higher IMQ (Inner Mongrel Quotient) than others. So that would be a bit sad, but if anyone could do it and keep her inner beauty, my money's on Ms Sales.
Now my first overall impression is that Ms Sales managed to tread that delicate line of remaining polite and professional, while asking and pursuing some lines that Ms Gillard would doubtless prefer not to have to be examined on in public. Rather than lose all balance and bludgeon the Prime Minister – do a Kerry O'Brien – Ms Sales achieved the difficult goal of remaining fragrant, helping her honoured interlocutor portray herself well also, while not shying away from Ms Gillard's discomfort zones.
This would not be easy to pull off, and Ms Sales did it very well.
The subject which was threatening the Prime Minister's comfort zones was Australia's military and civil involvement in Afghanistan, the subject being debated in Parliament for the first time today, thanks to the Howard Government's going all the way with GWB almost a decade ago without parliamentary examination first.
I am dismayed that both Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott both assiduously avoid, assuming they even understand, some inexorable facts that plague the whole Afghanistan mission. To help illustrate what I mean, let's do a thought experiment:
Australia, all alone, militarily invaded a Taliban-ruled Afghanistan almost a decade ago, to remove that dangerous and barbaric leadership which gave safe haven to Al-Qaeda. The vast bulk of the population welcomed us, and still do. The people crave a liberal democracy, long denied them, wherein equality of the sexes would be the norm, as would freedom of religion.
Although the cost of the military and civil input is large, Australia is so well off that it is just small change, with little of importance back on home soil not being adequately funded for the maintenance and betterment of the nation. No health waiting lists, no-one sleeping on the streets, no environmental issues worsening, everything on the up and up.
And so our military command is running the show, neither answerable to any allies nor dependent upon them. The government of Afghanistan is corruption free, and their military is rapidly training up to world's best discipline and ethical standards, paralleling our own.
Afghanistan's neighbour Pakistan is squeaky clean, and fully cooperating with the effort to eliminate the refuge for violent fundamentalists across the shared mountainous border. No other nation is interested in helping insurgencies or locals to defeat us.
Need I continue the fairy tale?
A quick look now at what the actual case is:
Virtually half the population of Afghanistan consider the other half as inferiors, who have far less right to an education, health care, justice, freedoms of any kind.
Virtually all of the population subscribe to a religion that practices severe intolerance of religious freedom, and insists on the church being the state. Thus our soldiers and civil personnel are considered to be infidel, with the negative connotations that come with that.
The nation of Afghanistan, or should I say that collective of tribes, has no long hard fought and fruitful experience with the institutions of a liberal democracy, has no extensive modern infrastructures to speak of serving the government, health, environmental, energy, agricultural, and justice needs of its people. Might we not have to be there for fifty years, even with their wholehearted cooperation?
The allies running the combination of operations known as Operation Enduring Freedom and International Security Assistance Force are mostly undeclared bankrupts, most especially the USA followed by Britain, no less than the two powers doing the lion's share. The Netherlands has withdrawn, having been largely based in Uruzgan Province; Canada is leaving by July next year, Kandahar Province being their main base.
The amount of things that have to keep working cooperatively to pull the whole show off eventually are myriad.
Imagine that Australia succeeds brilliantly in Uruzgan Province, bringing the region into the 21st century against the odds, taking billions of our dollars to do it, and a lot more lives and health of our soldiers. Then the national government implodes, is taken over by rabid fundamentalists again, the allies dump their commitments throughout the rest of the country… How long will Uruzgan Province last as a bastion of a liberal democracy in the making, doing Australia proud?
All of our efforts, every drop of Australian blood and every cent of Australian money, depend for their lasting success upon the wholehearted commitment from a hotchpotch of lily-livered confused thinking bankrupt nations, rapidly losing the support of their voters. It does not bode well does it?
As awful as it is to consider, it may well be better to cut our losses, and leave a sinking ship before our bodies melt into jelly on the sea floor along with the whole battleship. 21 Australian lives and mission UNaccomplished may be far better than hundreds more Australian lives and mission NEVERaccomplished.
Does it make sense to join with an ally when it does something ill-thought through? John Howard leapt in with Bush and Blair because we are allies. Gillard used the same reasoning tonight under Ms Sales' questioning. Yes we're allies, but no we don't have to be stupid. The peanut gallery in charge of the United States at the time of the 9/11 atrocity demonstrated an appalling grasp of global dynamics, and only made a bad situation far worse. Why keep justifying to ourselves that we haven't been a part of that stupidity?
Faced with two paths, the less stupid and the more stupid, how stupid is it to keep choosing the more stupid?
It was clear to me from Leigh Sales' questions that the journalist is far from convinced of the arguments that the leaderships of the Labor and Coalition parties are mounting for continuing the mission in Afghanistan. Our leaders need to be kept in the frying pan of scrutiny.
Prime Minister Gillard said, in answer to a very clear and simple series of excellent questions from Ms Sales, "Our mission, of course, is to make sure Afghanistan doesn't become a safe haven for terrorists." Well, how impossible, given the mindset of the populace as well as the fundamentalist sewer across the inhospitable and porous border with Pakistan, and even if it was possible, how redundant, given the globalisation of terrorist opportunity, assisted mightily by the internet; how many British have died at the hands of British terrorists this decade?
The PM also highlighted her own lack of understanding or honesty with the Australian citizenry – or was it a flagging of her gullibility? – when in answer to Ms Sales' characteristically precise question: "But to what standard (government provision of services), I guess I'm wanting to know?
"Because in looking to benchmarks you need things that can be measured and there's a big difference between the sort of elections we have here, for example, and the sort of elections you have in Afghanistan.
"So I'm wondering where in that continuum you would think that that's a functional government?"
Julia Gillard: "Leigh, in part this is for the Afghan national people to determine.
"We are not there nation building in that sense. The Afghan people have to do that nation building themselves."
Here is the immense risk: the determination that the 'Afghan national people' reach will be far from satisfactory from our national interest position, nowhere near commensurate with our sacrifices of life, health, and finances, even very harmful to us.
Imagine the advantages we could be leaving in the shape of a trained military and civil infrastructure to the next bunch of fanatics to hold the reins of power in Afghanistan! Even if 'moderates' rule Afghanistan, how much of our hard-earned and hard-sacrificed will assist women, children, civil society, and how much will further hard-line Islam?
And let me be clear: I would dearly like to be wrong, and see the fruition of the allied efforts with a rapid achievement of a peaceful self-governing society in a stable and developing Afghanistan, with a consequent orderly and soon wind-down of all military engagement by all concerned. The nation would obviously be Islamic flavoured, but how about a moderate flavour? And let it then hold its head high a part of the United Nations of peaceable forward-striving collective of humanity.
A great interview conducted most skillfully by Ms Sales, and most politically astutely by a weasel-worded Ms Gillard. This quality of interview is so valuable, to alert the thinkers among the Australian people of the spin that infects and directs our national policy, and also for posterity when a higher quality of history-motivated citizenry will be able to study just how mealymouthed our politics was.
Friday: To bed this 'morning' at about one this afternoon, and up at five; yes, another day night day blurring.
Before hitting the low thread count polycottons, I found Cadbury killing a dove she'd caught out the back door among the bamboo. I am aware of the irony of loving the natural world and owning a domestic cat that has still got outdoor freedom, and if and when it becomes feasible, I'll set up a large outdoor enclosure that will prevent such sad happenings. I cannot quantify how much joy this little Maine Coon has brought into my life since finding it abandoned early this year as a kitten. And my word the killer instincts of spoiled domestic cats are alive and well.
The delicate dormouse and I drove to Adelaide Terrace and began an evening with The Babies Ink&Peggletter. We got there about seven, and then went to Victoria Park to ChiRestaurant, where we treated them to a meal as a reward for Baby Inkletter getting through her recent ten week horror practical teaching stint, with the mentor teacher from hell.
It is our (we wrinklies) second time there, and we are very impressed with the standards, from the very nice Chinese food to the friendly and professional staff, topped off by the relative inexpensiveness of the cuisine and service.
After this we went for a walk along the Perth foreshore, before dessert and a board game back at The Babies' place. It wasn't till about midnight that we got home, with a fuel stop locally.
I settled in to watch recorded current affairs till almost four a.m., with killer Cadbury on my lap, bless her fat little heart.
Lateline: The Tick(y Fullerton) Check Mark: Ms Fullerton looked lovely in her simple long-sleeved coral red blouse, and subtle-effect makeup, her only jewellery small pearl earrings, her hair appealingly convex flaring and tucked behind her ears:
How nicely Ticky Fullerton sets off her coral red blouse!
She conducted a riveting long interview – 21 minutes no less! – about today's Murray Darling Basin Authority's announced plan, with Water Minister Tony Burke, splendid in his grey jacket white shirt and blue shades striped tie combo, Professor Mike Young, resplendent in a pastel-coloured combo grey jacket white shirt and yellow shaded tie, and Rob Black, who was the most colourfully attired, minus a jacket with a striped light shirt and zingy blue and red striped neck strangler.
Ms Fullerton was the ideal journalist to conduct this discussion, given her personal extensive knowledge of the water challenges facing the Australian nation. I was impressed with the civil contributions of each of the interlocutors, despite some very serious financial consequences for Mr Black's stakeholders, the valid environmental solicitude of Mr Young, and the political concerns of Mr Burke.
Mr Young's contributions stood out; he was a delight to listen to, with a very positive outlook and preparedness to pay praise where praise is due.
Well done all of you, and thank you Ms Fullerton for how tightly you kept your guests on subject.
I went for a walk about half four, and the eastern horizon was lightening on my return.
I spent many hours at the keyboard, with the sun heading to midday before I retired.
Tuesday: 'Yesterday' blurred for me into a typical evening, night, day, and it wasn't till noon that I finally lay down to sleep. And so, come half six in the evening, I was not well rested, when I arose to do my first 'job', and deliver hot vittles to The Dear Leader., fresh from being phlebotomised this morning.
It had been a warm spring day, and Cadbury is certainly in molting mode, with a long winter coat that is of reducing use to her. I must use the Furminator again on her tomorrow in daylight and outside. Anyway, with minimal fur ruffling, she spent over two hours on my lap watching Aunty with me, until her meowing messages convinced me she needed a spell outside, about half ten.
I always enjoy Tony Windsor interviews, and Kerry O'Brien gave us another on The 7.30 Report. What a dream if every politician in Australia, state and federal, had his restraint, composure, and bearing. Both men looked excellent in their dark suits and boldly striped ties.
Pictures coming…
The one point I'd highlight from that interview is Mr Windsor's calm observation that Tony Abbott is "missing an opportunity to be constructive", in his leadership of the Opposition for our 43rdParliament.
I could easily be persuaded to call Tony Abbottthe incredible shrinking politician, due to just how small minded he is behaving. I'll say more on this in my Lateline observations below.
Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Leigh Sales chose a casual look tonight, and looked wonderful, in a double pocketed longsleeved dark blue shirt, her only jewellery a set of gold ring earrings, subtle-effect makeup, and attractively flaring hairstyle. Her eyeshadow strength and shade was ideal.
Picture coming…
Her long interview subject was the first day of our new Parliament, with the finely tuned numbers and their consequences. The sucker from the Opposition who fronted up, on-screen from Canberra, to discuss the day's developments, was Shadow Treasurer, Joe Hockey, whose dark pinstriped suit and white shirt, enhanced with a white tie with medium width black stripes, cut him a handsome figure.
Picture coming…
This interview's mood was sombre. And that was the right tone, for here we had the Shadow Treasurer giving away the sad truth of the state of mind of his side of politics, with regard to the recent election and their failure to form a government. I don't believe that even Mr Hockey believes that the non-cooperative stance his side has adopted, under the leadership of Tony Abbott, is the best thing to do.
It became evident through Ms Sales' thorough and researched questions, that Mr Hockey was the latest harbinger from his mob that this Opposition has not got sufficient goodwill towards the Australian nation, to help make this latest Parliament as productive as possible.
Tony Abbott is demonstrating that he hasn't got the greatness to accept that, according to the rules we've been running on for a century and more, his side did not form government, and he did not become Prime Minister, which sadly, might be as much the point.
I reckon Ms Sales is very aware of the smallness that is oozing out of the Opposition from all angles, and her questioning indicated this. She thus let Mr Hockey indict himself and his colleagues. How spot on Ms Sales was with the spirit in the following question: "Is there a risk that that (the 'wrecker' appellation) will resonate with the public if the Opposition does pick fights over comparatively minor courtesies like pairing?"
His lame comeback included the following non sequitur: "And how ironic it is, Julia Gillard accusing us of breaking a deal, whereas before the election she promised the Australian people there would no carbon tax." Mr Hockey and your cohorts, listen carefully to Tony Windsor and, if necessary, get someone with more intelligence than you are displaying to the public to explain the implications of the following: IT'S A HUNG PARLIAMENT. Thus, many campaign commitments are thrown into doubt automatically. The Coalition would be in an identical situation if it had formed a government under the current balance of numbers; some of its promises would doubtless have to be purged.
How easily most of our politicians are prepared to keep insulting our intelligence with irrelevancies, redundancies, and falsities. Give us more Tony Windsors, Rob Oakeshotts, Bob Katters, Nick Xenophons!
In years to come, I would not be surprised if Mr Hockey looks back to these days, even this interview, and cringes. He, at the bidding of the small-spirited leader he works under, demonstrated that he can talk and defend smallness also.
However, I am not confident that the Australian people will punish the Coalition for its tactics born of bitterness, formulated through the distortion of their smarting eyes. That remains to be seen. I hope the Coalition is punished electorally for its ongoing puerile and nasty behaviour, only to impress upon our politicians, and aspiring politicians, of every flavour, to behave with a far higher level of maturity towards the honour they are awarded to represent and lead us.
I was impressed with the fact that Ms Sales had a good grasp of the history of the situation 70 years back when we last had a hung parliament. She is a studious researcher, and it shows. I wonder when she sleeps.
Thank you Leigh Sales for an interview which had Joe Hockey exposing as much of what the Opposition doesn't stand for and which it should, by omission, as for the same by commission.
Lateline Business: The Tick(y Fullerton) Check Mark: Ticky Fullerton looked great when she anchored tonight's program. She wore a dark jacket and a simple Carolina blue camisole, with subtle-effect makeup and just tiny earrings for jewellery, her new shorter hairstyle suiting her very well, with its full forehead exposure and convex flaring at the sides.
Picture coming…
I get a chill whenever I think of big foreign businesses buying food production assets in our country, and so I was not the most comfortable I've ever been during the long interview Ms Fullerton had with Sunny Verghese, the Managing Director of Olam International. Mr Verghese looked like a new dollar, billions of them to be precise, but with a dark blue theme to his jacket and tie.
Picture coming…
The topic was about the plans by Olam International to double its business, already a $2.6 billion enterprise. I cannot help but think that this business and most like it are not first and foremost dedicated to feeding people while being profitable, but rather to make profits first and foremost, and all else being secondary. I hope I'm wrong with Olam International.
Ms Fullerton did raise the concerns of the various countries about their farming assets, including water rights, being sold to overseas interests, with Mr Verghese, and while he spoke a lot of words back, they didn't amount to addressing the basic problems of local insecurities, in my opinion. He interestingly gave a reply including this line: "…for us the more important licence that we need to seek and get is the licence from the communities and where we operate."
Well, that prize will depend on the greatness, the character, of Olam International, and will best be evidenced over time and under duress. Specifically I speak of the duress of the locals in the countries his business operates in, when food prices rise above manageable needs for the poor. Just how his company behaves at such times will be the acid to determine the above mentioned licence of which he claims he seeks.
It's a big issue, and a big problem. We've all got to eat. And of course, agricultural business has to be profitable, and – especially – sustainable, ideally continuously improving the health of the ecosystems in which it operates.
Friday: I picked up Mum at Melville and got her to the skin specialist for her 11.30 appointment.
He decided to shave the skin cancer growth off her left leg, rather than excise it. The needles for anaesthetic hurt Mum greatly, as did the needles for the excision two months ago behind her ear. However, the shaving procedure meant she could walk and carry on, whereas a deep incision would have been a different story.
The growth was an inch or so from where she had the deep incision to remove a cancer near her ankle a couple of years back, which necessitated her resting with her leg up for many days.
When I got back home, about half three, I took Janny shopping, and so this spent the day. I was so tired I had to sleep for an hour till nearly seven.
During the evening, with Cadbury on my lap, I saw some live coverage a few times from the BBC on ABC24 of el Papa on his visit to London, from Edinburgh the day before. The irony of the grandiosity of it all is so stark, with both sides of the Christian schism so far removed from much that Jesus lived for.
Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Sad to learn, sweetened with some Shakespeare from Leigh Sales, that Stephen Long will be away for a few weeks Four Cornering; his riposte was also Shakespearian. Stay safe Stephen and come back with more wisdom with which to scent this economic coil.
Shakespeare's sentiments blossomed during Stephen Long's LATELINE appearance with Leigh Sales
Mr Long was asked, during his 3 minutes of glory, by Ms Sales what's going on with this mob of businesses backing a carbon tax, and that mob opposing one; as per usual, we got his wisdom illuminating the matter: there is no unanimity, just prejudices in the newspapers' reporting on BHP's stance so far, and schisms (great word, Stephen!) within the business world.
And Ms Sales put the question of why the Aussie dollar is going gangbusters, and of course, we received very sensible reasons, such as our comparitively high interest rates and the dollar's link with our high priced commodities.
I can never get enough of Stephen Long's straight talking common sense; if only our politicians could be so candid. I look forward to Mr Long's 4 Corners report.
Ms Sales' long interview was the Friday night fight club, with Scott Morrison and Tony Burke, in-studio, and all behaved most civilly, (and each was presented superbly, with Ms Sales, unsurprisingly, being the most soothing to the eye):
Beauty and the beasts: Leigh Sales attempting to tease some manner of political sense from Scott Morrison and Tony Burke on LATELINE
although the performances were predictable, on the subject of immigration and asylum seekers, especially the boat arrivals. And as ever, it seems the Opposition is having a struggle with bitterness and smallness, even though it was very well controlled by Mr Morrison. I keep noting in this blog how small and negative this last three years long Opposition has been; it's as if they think it's somehow justified.
Thankfully, Ms Sales' good sense of humour helps to lift the tone and keep it up at more acceptable levels. She began funnily with a remark that the interview was almost over due to the length of the pollies' titles.
A wonderful moment occurred when Mr Morrison said "…the Coalition's very united on it (climate change)", and Ms Sales interjected while wrestling with her own laughter: "Well really? …You've got Malcolm Turnbull in your ranks. We've had Tony Abbott previously say climate change is crap and now embracing direction action?" Mr Morrison steamed ahead trying to make nothing of that fact, while the smile that staked its claim on Mr Burke's moosh was a sight to behold. I recommend you watch the podcast just for this sight:
Priceless moment: Tony Burke and Leigh Sales catch Scott Morrison with his rhetorical pants around his ankles!
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I managed a very late walk, on this relatively warm evening. Janny spent some hours awake in the middle of the night. It's a nuisance when this happens, coz she either wants to gab on with me, or get me to write emails for her, and I can't get my writing done. The burdens of husbandhood…
I was still at the keyboard till well after sunrise.
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