The Year 2002 |
Last year a parking office maliciously gave me a ticket, and then squealed like a pig when I, on this very show, exposed her for being a man-hating lascivious dyke who takes pleasure in interrupting the business of successful people, and stated that we would be a better country if we didn’t have to put up with her kind.
Little did I know that there was an underground of slag sympathisers and lovers, who have spent the last year pissing your hard-earned taxes against the wall in what has been nothing less than a witch-hunt. So what if she was a Salvo and I’d been in the spot for five hours, it happened a year ago and it’s an old story. She’s just jealous I was re-elected to the board of the Melbourne Club while she spends her day sticking bits of paper under windscreen wipers.
And is it just me, or have the Salvos gone to pot? It seems just like a few years ago we all loved the quaint gay, grog and grunge music abhorring god botherers that spent their time helping the homeless and the pitiful. Nowadays they seem to want to run public agenda. Employment agencies, heading up the drug advisory council … I’m no crack cocaine free-baser, but having a prohibitionist running drug policy is like having an alcoholic determining opening hours.
Talking about the separation of the state and the church, this year it was reinforced when it became clear it was okay to accuse a gay judge of pedophilia but not a conservative catholic bishop.
But I digress, what a year. Twelve months ago we were just another palm-tree-rimmed sun-blessed island on the furthest edge of the pacific. Now we're, with the US and England, the preferred target of terrorists. Well done you.
As a nation we were the first to recognise that wasting time at the negotiation table was last millennia’s model and that questions should only be asked after the first strike.
Softcock economists have been bleating on about the wisdom about being belligerent when you lack the resources or infrastructure to back it up, or even to protect your own shores and citizens, but what they’ve conveniently forgotten is that we’re lodged so far up George Dubya’s lower intestine that he’s ready to bomb wherever Little Johnny points.
Saddam Hussein has a 100 per cent approval rating, only eighteen percent more than John Howard. I’m not sure what that means but it was just another fact in this remarkable year.
It was the year the billionaire son of a media mogul flew in on his private Leer jet to warn us that capitalism is the only guarantor of democracy and that the greatest threat to freedom are elites.
And it was the elites that complained when we had to kick in doors and hold guns to children's heads because their daddies had attended a religious lecture, and jeopardised a multi-billion dollar deal with the architect of the Tiannamen Massacre by demanding that the PM should have tea with the Dalai Lama.
2002 was the year we came to the simple fact that university students who burn flags should be jailed for doing so. In the history of everywhere no protest has lead to positive change.
We realised that foreigners are up to no good.
In 2002 we found the enemy, lifted their burkha and looked them in the eye.
We learnt that women can think about four things at once. Four things. Now if just one of those things was useful it'd be a miracle.
It's not that impressive to be able to time the cooking so the vegies are ready at the same time as the chops and mash when you can't solve the Palestinian Crisis, remember to carry the mobile phone that your husband spends an inordinate amount of his wage or even have the ability to urinate standing up.
Don't get me wrong, I like women. I get many letters a week offering sexual favours and unquestioning servitude, but obviously they're dazzled by the ties rather than the ideas.
When you hear whingers banging on about research and development funding being cut, you must realise that the problem is with the scientists not concentrating on things that will pay for themselves.
It's all good and well trying to find a cure for arthritis, but you’re hardly going to pay the mortgage curing rickety old people who are dependent on government handouts.
Find a solution to traffic jams, democrat voters and crap fast food and you can justify the wages.
Invent a baby that comes out of the womb fully toilet trained and you'll make a mint.
Then you can waste as much time and money as you want trying to prove the improbable theory that women have a worth beyond propagating the species and making sure they've set the table before serving the risotto.
It’s obvious, if women could think of multiple things simultaneously, they wouldn’t waste their and everyone else’s time, handing out parking tickets.
You know it makes sense.
I’m Sam Kekovich.
