"To a chorus of boos on the left, and some anger on the right. President Jacques Chirac appointed Dominique de Villepin, an unelected member of the French mandarin class, as prime minister yesterday."
posted by skander @ 5:37 AM
0 comments
"That new Malaysian place is really good isn't it?"
"Yeah, I really like it. And it's cheap"
"It's always packed, and it hasn't been open that long"
"We really needed somewhere like that. The only other Asian places nearby sell that strange sushi with cooked chicken in it instead of fish"
"Hmm, those shops are chinese and they can't really do sushi."
"What is the gig with putting cooked food in sushi? Like chicken and tuna and squiz n stuff? I mean, why? It's meant to be raw fish"
"I don't get that either"
"The pub down the road does some really nice meals too, but they'rew a bit classier and abit more expensive."
"Yeah, I like that one too. Don't got there much. The other pub has good meals as well, in a kinda pubby-hearty gooey cheese and chips kinda way."
"I don't like that pub. One of the bar staff raped my friend. I spose the meals are okay though."
posted by skander @ 11:35 PM
2 comments
I for one am dead chuffed about the upcoming marriage between Charles and his longtime mistress. They are obviously together, and what should prevent them, both divorcées, from marrying one another? At the very least, Charles has this time been able to choose his own consort, rather than have her selected by a shodowy group of courtiers somewhat reminiscent of the ALP's so-called factional heavyweights— faceless and unaccountable. And yes, it's someone whom he has fancied for decades. Let him wed. Just thank god it wasn't Kanga.
I think it's something that, as much as the public dislike it, will be good for the monarchy in a roundabout way. Which is not to say that I am a monarchist. Australia and Great Britian are different countries with different perspectives on the globe and their positions on it (although you'd hardly know that from our identical 'shoulder-to-shoulder' stance in the coalition of three). What I do dislike is how, in some way, this union restarts the republic debate in Australia, as though anything done by Charles reignites this debate. It sits hushed in the corner when we are concerned with the Queen , Wills or Harry, but whenever it's about Charles, the republicans bellow: 'he's your future King, do you really want someone like that?' And that's not fair in my books. The issue, although those pushing the bandwagon will never admit it, revolves around Charles' personality. Because he is a quiet soul who likes the country air, a hunt and a ride, because he has a failed marriage behind him, because he is a horticulturist, a watercolourist and has a variety of dearly-held yet apolitical opinions, because he went to Timbertop, he is somehow regarded by the urban-educated (and even the urban-uneducated) as an eccentric duffer not fit to be a monarch. Give the bloke a break.
Remember the 80s, when it was all "Charles is a nutter, he talks to his plants"? Looking back, that must have been the easiest line to spin on what was then a ridiculously left-field opinion: that chemical fertilizers damage the land and that farming should be sustainable. But being disallowed from political comment—or basically any comment that may be seen as an intrusion into politics, which rules out a lot of stuff—he's had to stick to innocent, fringe topics like horticulture and urban planning. Yet he had the courage of his convictions to turn Highgrove organic, and now, 20 years later it is the most profitable sustainable organic farming business in Britain.
Organics still aren't big here, but they're massive in the British high street—public sentiment has forced organic fruit n veg onto Tesco and Sainsbury shelves, and farmers markets pop up every second weekend, even in inner city areas like Pimlico—which would probably be the same here if we had to feed 60 million people on land the size of Victoria. The man seems actually quite visionary in that respect. Its all about spin.
So is it the media who dislike Charles? or the public? or simply the left? I know a bunch of Aussies whom I wouldn't consider left but are avowedly republican. And I'd consider myself left, but not necessarily republican. If we are all so Howardian these day, then the public will be pretty much 'meh...'. SoI tend to think it's the media, wanting a story, wanting an easily-communicable caricature, and wanting to demonstrate that they are somehow 'better' than him despite his birth into wealth and status (you can't call it power, being so tightly bound in protocol). So instead he is eccentric and old before his time and therefore less of a man.
Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a tirade but rather an endorsement.
I simply believe the argument should be about the position and not the person. And for the record, I voted YES for the republic option last offered, and will vote NO to a popularly-elected 'president'.
posted by skander @ 9:32 PM
0 comments
OK, we've now had episode two of the next-big-thing in the 2005 range of all-new American cultural exports, Desperate Housewives. And there doesn't seem to be too much to justify the ravings. Sure it's been heavily, and I mean heavily, promoted: like the new tart in a bordello, she's been wheeled out to charm all and sundry. What TV show gets three outings on commercial TV ever (let's exempt the channel 10 7-7:30pm timeslot here) let alone thrice in one week?
We, as a nation, nay as a western collective conscious, must be seriously in need of some escapism to elevate a soap about a group of stereotyped women in their 40s with higher-than-average incomes to the "hottest thing on TV". I understand the American Beauty-esque "flip-side of the American dream" thing, but these women are stereotypes of stereotypes: the cold, robotic housewife; the desperate, endearing single mom; the harried mother of four; the hot-blooded latina. And of them, it is the latter that shits me the most. Surely not all beautiful women of latin descent are sluts? Or all ex-models, for that matter (although I'm willing to entertain conjecture on that one).
And so their storylines: the latina too rapacious to contain; the housewife too efficient to love; the singleton too needy to attract; the mother too occupied to think. Oh, and how could I forget the body under the pool? I mean, this is all in one dimension. Toadfish has more depth.
Yet it's won accolades, I hear you retort.
Originality? Bah. This TV show is nothing more than a placebo for Sex in the City fans without the clothes. And it's a suppository at that. As stereotyped as Miranda-the-career-woman, Charlotte-the-eternal-bride, Samantha-the-woman-on-top and Carrie-the-empty-vessel were, these new clones are, really, nothing new. It's just a change of back-story: Miranda=harried mom; Charlotte=Dr Kimberley Shaw; Samantha=latina; empty vessel=the-one-you're-meant-to-identify-with, Lois Lane. [And while I'm on Terri Hatcher, YOU ruined Tomorrow Never Dies] Quirky? Northern Exposure was quirky, Moonlighting was quirky, this is not quirky, this is melodrama. Soaps are, by their very nature, not quirky. They are sur-real, unreal: witness the growing colony of Melas Wen (yes, read it backwards) on Days of Our Lives. And yet the froth? So far, the tribulations of these women's lives don't add up to the last scoop of Fab up against those of JR, Alexis Morell Carrington Colby Dexter or Dr Michael Mancini. And as for style, this is backlot LA remember.
So, what can we expect from the coming weeks of Desperate Housewives? The URST will come from the-single-mom-and-the shady-CIA-type vs whatever that is left of Nicolette Sheridan. The latina will get caught out. The busy mother will lose her mind and then her husband, probably in that order. And the robot will embark upon some sort of illicit affair. All glued together by the nosy Mrs Ochmonek character.
Whatever.
I'll probably be watching.
posted by skander @ 3:20 AM
0 comments
posted by skander @ 1:55 AM
1 comments
It's Friday night. I'm leaving the pub. Melbourne has been stinking all week long, and tonight is no exception—move determinedly enough and you'll break out in an uncomfortable sweat—but it's past ten and the evening is cooling down a bit. I wander down to the closest main street, and start that craning neck thing you do when looking for a cab, walking backwards and that.
Eventually a yellow falcon with a white light on top comes by. I jump into the front seat, like you do. I see the driver's name is exotic.
"Busy night mate?"
"It's okay" Heavy wog accent.
"Where you from mate?"
"Macedonia"
"Oh nice" (I spose) And I start going on about this Albanian rug I've got. And even if the Macedons and the Albanians do hate each other, they're next-door neighbours. He sorta cuts me off. I've mentioned the wife.
"Ah you married mate?"
"Yes"
"You ever, you know, cheat on your wife?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"We've only been married two months" A fact. "Do you?"
"Yes. You have to mate"
"Sometimes I take the headjob in the taxi" he tells me. "You know, if they have no money. It's not so bad."
"Ugh" I'm sure you do, Mr middle-aged, married, Macedonian taxi driver.
"My wife no like the headjobs." Pause. "I like the headjob. And sometimes also from the man." Curiouser and curiouser. "Have you ever had the headjob from the man?"
"No" I lie.
"Why not? "
"Never been propositioned, I spose"
"It's the best mate, the best. The man, he know what to do. The woman, she no idea."
"Ugh" I'm repeating myself.
"You a handsome man" Fucken oath! "why you never been with a man?"
"Dunno"
"Oh, the man, he's so much better. You know, I also suck the dick sometimes..."
"Really?" ok, two more sets of traffic lights.
"Yes, really. Is not so bad."
and then
"Maybe we go somewhere quiet, I suck your dick?"
WHAT?!?
"You like that?"
"No, sorry mate, I'm already running late for my mates. Not tonight." Not ever Mr middle-aged, married, macedonian taxi driver with three kids (did I neglect to mention that?)
"You sure? What time you go home? I pick you up. You know. I suck your dick. I like it."
"I don't know what time I'll be finished, sorry mate."
"I'll give you free ride. You handsome. I like to give you headjob. You will like it. I'm very good. And I drop you home after. Is easy"
"Just here please mate, at the 7-11" Still a few blocks to go but I don't want any more of this.
"You sure you no want? We can go round corner here, is dark."
"No thanks mate," handing over the approximate fare.
"Here, I give you my card. You want, you call me when you finish here, I give you headjob, no charge for ride home. Sounds good, yes?"
"Ugh"
"Here you call me"
posted by skander @ 5:56 AM
1 comments
"O India. How calm was India? All starving and god-drunk and spattered with dry excrement. When I was there long ago, I felt the moon of my inner non-being was at full. The smell of magnolia remembers me supremely."
