I don't recall a bill of rights

It's one of those things you think will never happen to you. My brand spanking new oil-byproduct-burning Holden Captiva...is being recalled!!

When I first got the recall notice, deep down I hoped it was some really interesting problem, such like: "Holden has identified a condition whereby if the vehicle's audio system is tuned to ABC Newsradio the vehicle will explode in flames the moment you drop below 100 miles per hour. This issue can only be rectified by a licenced Holden dealer, Keanu Reeves or Sandra Bullock. Please note this issue does not otherwise affect the normal operation of the vehicle's radio".

Sadly, it was only this: "Holden have identified a condition where the right hand side indicator lamp fitted to the driver's side door mirror will not operate if the rear window demister is switched on".

Which got me thinking- who designed this car- Microsoft??

On other matters- I have been asked recently why I oppose a Bill or Charter of Rights, one of the many ideas floated at the recent heavily-stacked-with-socialists 2020 summit.

I'm sure to come up with a more erudite explanation soon, but here's a good start: a stabbing murderer in NSW is suing the NSW Government for allowing her access to knives.

If anyone wants me, I'll be in Alaska.

Interfaith monologue

Gidday y'all.

Now hopefully you'll look past that crude fusion of Aussie and Southern USA greetings, and read on. First the daily headlines;

Good news this week when Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad repeated his call that "Israel should be wiped off the map". An Israeli spokeperson choked back tears of joy saying "we're extremely encouraged by this news. Someone in Iran is actually acknowledging that Israel is on the map in the first place!"

Iranian president and very religious little man Mahmoud Im-in-a-jihad

In other news; leading up to the USA elections, Republican and Democrat campaigners have joined forces and designed a joint campaign sticker in an unprecedented show of bipartisan unity.



Apologies for the low level coarse language. I'm only quoting so it's okay.

In news closer to home, Becky is enjoying her dance classes. The other day I had the task of picking her up from dance lessons, for the first time. Admittedly, watching a motley bunch of 5 year old girls wearing brightly coloured tu-tus and stomping on the floor with all the rhythmic coordination of a peak hour freeway pile-up, is not my cup of tea. Of course, the standout performer was my Becky Boo. I'm not in the least bit biased.

The dance lessons are held at the local Anglican hall, where I realised what a trainspotter I've become, since all I could think about was how much their hardwood floors desperately needed to be touched up. Oh well, I suppose that's from a motley bunch of 5 year old girls wearing brightly coloured tu-tus and stomping on the floor with all the rhythmic coordination of a peak hour freeway pile-up.

Sam plays his Nintendo a lot and is getting really good on the race car simulator. He's dropped below 50 secs at Talledega and I feel this will really help him when he is old enough to drive.

On the weekend just prior to the weekday upon which I typed this very text which you are now reading (for any techno-nerds keen on learning exactly what day that was they can research this by examining the blog date at the top of this post and count back) we travelled to Horsham for Sharon's cousin Melissa's 21st birthday party. We made the trip in this type of vehicle, which I acquired only recently;

"Photo is for illustration purposes only". I've always wondered why people bother to write that. What else would we think the photo is for? Solving world hunger? Fixing our relationship problems? Hypnosis?

Ours is much like the one pictured in this advertising image, except ours will probably never be parked or driven on or anywhere near a beach, nor driven by perfect-bodied twenty-something parents with perfectly behaved kids who don't wreck the car's paintwork. And ours is a different colour- one called "Imperial Blonde", named after a woman who leads a small sovereign country whilst using her birth control pills to tell which day of the week it is.

I know, I know, what happened to the Falcon XR-6 Turbo I hear you all ask. Well, firstly it's my job to save my employer some money and having an XR6 Turbo would have the same weekly cost of running a tropical island resort. A diesel vehicle is a fuel/money saving measure. Well, it was, until Chairman Kevin hit us with a sneaky, lying, spin-doctoring, greedy, stupid and annoying diesel tax. To make up for the fact that it's a gutless oil-burner I got one with leather, big wheels, a big CD player, a refrigerated glovebox and lots of little storage spaces which we'll still be discovering for many years to come.

Secondly, it has SEVEN SEATS. So on long journeys we no longer endure the three children whining annoyingly about sitting next to eachother for the whole trip. Nope. Now we have two children whining annoyingly for the entire trip that they didn't get to sit in the cool, novel, rear seat. How did I fail to anticipate that little eventuality?

Okay, so I now have a 7 seater SUV. My life is officially over. But it will never qualify to live in the gararge, which is looking very healthy at present.



Moving right along, the 21st birthday party gave Becky Boo the chance to bust some moves on the dance floor



While some of us looked on with excitement...



No, really it was a typically rocking Horsham get together with the usual over-catering ensuring that lunch, dinner and breakfast was covered for several days for several families. However, we had to bolt early the next day (Sunday). Omi and I were keen to attend a Jewish festival known as Shuk Hashishim, celebrating Israel's 60th anniversary, being thrown at St Kilda.

You see, Naomi has chosen Israel as her subject country for a school project on nations of the "Asian Continent". To clarify if Israel was eligible, Omi asked the question of the teacher and without any creative licence whatsoever* I paraphrase the conversation thus;

Omi: Miss, does the "Asian Continent" include the Middle East?
Politically correct teacher gleefully assuming that Omi wishes to do a project on a Muslim country which is so multiculturally aware since us evil Western Imperialists have been so utterly cruel and oppressive to all of them: Why of course Naomi! That's a wonderful idea! I mean, yes it does include the Middle East.
Omi: Good. Because I'd like to do a project on Israel
Politically correct teacher with colour draining from her face believing that Israel is an evil Western Imperialist country oppressing poor multicultural Muslims but knowing she must feign approval lest she sound anti-semitic: OH...oh...well, right...YES...good...wonderful idea!

*a blatant lie


So there we were, at Mount Scopus College in St Kilda, soaking up the Hebraic celebrations. Mount Scopus College, by the way, was featured in SBS's Insight forum two days later. You know, the TV forum where they gather the extremes from each opposing faction, let them argue vehemently and call it "open discussion". On this occasion it was the topic of faith-based education. I'm surprised that Doctor Timothy Hawkes was not there. I expect he was invited but declined, being a little tired of the media attention. In the end it looked like a Kevin Rudd inspired socialist interfaith love-in.

Anyhow, back to our Jewish Experience. I cannot quite believe how excited Omi was just to see the ultra-orthodox, rabbinically-garbed gentlemen walking down Hawthorn Road at Caulfield, even before we'd arrived. I had to be careful we didn't act like tourists at a zoo..."Oooh! Look at the Joooz! Look at the cute little kids in their yalmukes!" I confess I had no idea this enclave of Melbourne's inner suburbs was like a Little Brooklyn, except classier. I was not at all surprised they need to congregate so close together.

"you mean I shouldn't feed him?"

I suppose I sound a little crass and patronising, but I'm trying to capture the innocence, beauty and purity of Naomi's developing heart for this special group, the apple of YHWH's eye. She was genuinely chuffed to be amongst them, absorbing a little of their spirit. She's picked up her Dad's firm belief that these people are living, breathing, walking proof of an eternal God's eternal promises.


Fortunately we weren't entirely at sea. We bumped into people I'd previously met at a Christian Supporters of Israel meeting at the Biet Weizmann community centre in Caulfield, a couple of weeks earlier.

Like Ori, for example. Ori is an Israeli "emissary" from Jewish Youth organisation Bnei Akiva, who will tell you some amazing, and little known things about Israel's (miraculous) achievements in agriculture, academics and technology.

Then I saw Avigail Zeiri, a welfare worker who assisted in the massive evacuation and repatriation of Ethiopian Jews from Ethiopia's unrest in the 1980's. In this operation over 15,000 people were shuttled to Israel in 48 hours. On one flight, apparently, they left Addis Ababa with 1014 people, and arrived in Tel Aviv with 1015, after a birth on board. Amazing stories, amazing people. Avigail is one of those people who smiles with her entire face, and she greeted Naomi in this fashion, with the predictable but charming comment of "what a beautiful name you have"

Omi and Ori

Me? I was just happy to see some Jews enjoying themselves, instead of only mourning their dead as I saw them do two weeks earlier at their Yom Hazikaron. It's hard to explain or convey how I feel around these treasured folks. Theres something infectious about their joy in the face of, not just hatred, but worldwide efforts to make them hate themselves.

As we left, Omi noted soberingly that she'd never seen a school with such high fences. We also noticed that even the vandals in St Kilda/ Caulfield had a certain spirit about them. Just look at the professionalism of this piece of urban revolutionary art, which should make it onto my list of interesting signs:

So, with a gleeful step, a batch of new ideas for Omi's project, a tinge of political incorrectness, and the unfortunate song "Can't touch this" embedded in the brain for a few hours, we headed off home in the new environmentally friendly economical multicultural interfaith nuclear family transporter to relax for the first time in 48 hours. It has definitely been run in.

For wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried. Adonai do so to me, and more also, if anything but death parts you and me. Ruth 1:16-17

Breaking up is never easy...

Hi groovers. Firstly, family news. As some of you know we've bought a small red block of land in the Iron Triangle and are waiting for builders to explain to us how much, exactly, it will cost to build a house on it. And we're still none the wiser.

Not content with simply having a stand-off with financial disaster, we went one better and stomped out to the dusty main street, spurs and all, for a full-on gunfight. We bought a horse.

Feed me! Expensively!

Well, actually she's a pony. A cute little Welsh Section B called Opal (correct stud name is "Orange Mist". Ooh-err!). Apparently I cannot ride her, presumably as she will be crushed under my mammoth-ness. But she is ideal for Omi's riding development, i.e., omi is capable of pushing this little critter around. She was better than my idea of buying a nice big macho brown animal which would buck like a bronco, rear up and whinny a lot, run like a wounded bull, and trample people. You know, one which the whole family could enjoy.

Nope. The girls decided on cute little Opal and before you blokes out there question my manhood, I plead the following; Not. My. Department.

Everybody: "Aawwwwww....."

She comes from good stock, a stud called Glen Gwin at Colac, and apparently other horsey people say she is quite well known. She is 7 y.o. and 13h. Right, that's the technical jargon outta the way. All I know is she eats like a, well, horse, needs to lose a few pounds, and if you slap her on her big fat bottom she runs away.

It also means we finally get to use the pinkie-coloured straps and horse blanket which god-mum Katie H sent Omi (three times). I really should brush up on my equestri-speak.

Oh yes, and Becky's doing dancing lessons and Sammy's learning tennis. You know when they say the eldest child gets all the attention? They're right.

I had my first race of the season at Calder Park for the Vic Club series and, as comic book guy says; "Worst...meeting...EVER". I got bashed from pillar to post, reminded that as sophistimacated as I make it look, superkarting is, basically, feral. To try and salvage some elegance for the racing website, I wrote a little article on the old Aussie Grand Prix days at Lobethal. Swotting for it was quite the eye opener. Motor racing was brave stuff in the first half of the 1900's (as opposed to now, when it's just plain stupid). Brave stuff indeed. I am now officially disappointed with my parents that they didn't have me 30-40 years earlier. Shame on you, Mum. And shame on you for this...

...a photo which looks eerily similar to this


Since when did you have Leftist leanings?? Or, more accurately, Leftist "slouchings"?

Speaking of which, I received a very important fax at work the other day (yes, I do attend a job occasionally). It said:

MELBOURNE CARBON TRADING EXPO!! Does YOUR business measure up?? Come to the Melbourne Carbon Trading Expo, a true business to business trade show where you'll find over 50 exhibitors who can help YOUR business CUT your carbon emissions, helping reduce your impact on Climate Change and save you money! Sign up now for free attendance...

I had cleared all available diary space to be able to attend this event, as I am very keen to learn how we can run our business premises entirely on lentils. But examining the flyer more carefully I couldn't find where it said attendance was compulsory. How disappointing. How else are we environmental vandals going to learn to contribute to The Greater Good TM unless we are gently encouraged to be forced to attend a carbon trading expo? Next year's Carbon Trading Expo had better be mandatory. If it's not, they're missing the point.

Still, being keen to reduce my impact on climate change TM, contribute to the Greater Good TM and raise awareness TM, I filed the flyer in the appropriate pigeonhole



It's good to see Chairman Kevin tirelessly promoting thinktanks, groupthinks, talks and summits. Evidently by month three of Chairman Kev's control takeover he had already formed 47 committees to talk about stuff. Forty-seven. That's the great thing about Kev. He lets everybody talk (except his own ministers).

As I write this, the coming weekend sees the much-talked-about, talk-of-the-town talk-fest of talky talk-ness, Kevin 07's '08 2020 Summit. I'm not sure if that last number represents a date, or the running total of Kev's summits thus far. This summit is all about "Fresh ideas for Australia's future" and "raising awareness of relevant issues".

Yep. "Raising Awareness" TM. About, what, things like Climate Change? Well, the only people who haven't heard of "Climate Change" are guys called Gilligan and the Professor, people in comas, and some Alaskans. But sure, why not raise more awareness. Many of Chairman Kev's hand-picked "Best and Brightest" (I take it that is now a trademarked term) are from SUV-driving green elite groups.

Chairman Kev. Doing it For The Children (TM)

And sure, brainstorming ideas is a great, um, idea. In fact isn't that why we have the public service, Cabinet, and Parliament sittings? And MP's? And their constituents? Nope. better still, assemble a massively expensive group of Chairman Kev's hand-picked and approved greens, jaded journalists, scriptwriters, prostitutes, potty-mouthed university radio announcers, lawyers, new-age spiritualists and actors to bring fresh ideas. The same fresh ideas they've all been brainstorming loudly and annoyingly for the last gazillion years.

Yep, as Chairman Kev says, having this Summit, is "throwing open the doors of democracy"...by putting pivotal national decisions into the hands of smug people we didn't vote for.

Don't get me wrong, I love Cate Blanchett. She's gorgeous, and she was hauntingly fantastic in Tom Tykwer's Heaven and quite brilliant as Hepburn in The Aviator. But if she keeps bleating about how taxpayers should fund more artists making movies that nobody wants to see, I'll cave in and buy an Australian Idol CD just to demonstrate that popular and commercial are NOT always dirty words. Cate, baby, if an Aussie movie bombs at the box office, it doesn't mean artists need more government money. It means they should learn to stop making crap.

Like this

Yep, if anyone can be "Australia's Best and Brightest TM", and bring "fresh ideas" vital to our national welfare, it's someone whose primary job is to pretend to be someone they're not.

Now, my last rant, and for a bit of a change, I want to extend my hand of solidarity to homosexual couples everywhere (some of whom I'm sure were at the summit). For years now, "gay" couples have fought pain, persecution, discrimination, banishment, disease, depression, AIDS (a disease created by Zionists), libel, stereotyping, headaches, migranes, coughs, colds, ingrown toenails and all sorts of other nasty redneck things, in their rightful class struggle to be married just like the rest of us imperialist, conservative straights. There has been many a public protest on the issue, involving anything from shouting loud, poetic slogans to displaying big, meticulously prepared banners, to baring boobs... all for Raising Awareness TM of course, as opposed to narcissistic exhibitionism.

In fact, I'd have joined them in their public protests if I hadn't been so darned busy working a normal job, staying with the one woman, raising a family, giving children the mother/father relationship they are psychologically proven to need, contributing to the economy, and so on.

Anyhoo, FINALLY, in some states in the USA at least, their struggle is being won. They are triumphantly walking down the aisle and getting hitched, legally. Huzzah!

Sadly however, and as a damning indictment on our homophobic, backwards society, they now have to fight another struggle to get divorced.

This kind of glorious irony is a bit like watching those groin-crushing incidents in Australia's Funniest Home Videos of Kids Seriously Maiming Themselves. You know you shouldn't enjoy it, you know you mustn't laugh. But you can't help it.

With so many people going from being gay, to married, to divorced, it may help explain why this girl here...


...can't find a man. Certainly this particular photo offers up no explanation whatsoever. Our gorgeous, street-smart godsister Katie has talents ranging from savvy wordsmith to brutally honest fashion critic, and she is bafflingly single. Clearly this is a problem. A big, inexplicable problem. And it requires a big solution. And I think I've found it...

We're going to place Katie's personal welfare in the hands of 1000 of Australia's best and brightest poets, actors, human rights activists, hemp-smoking lentil-eating SUV-driving greenies, jobless political dissidents, public servants and gay divorcees, and hold a summit. And if that doesn't work we'll just have another one. Next week.

Ads by Paddy (and a baby)

Greetings favourite people and others.

2008 has already begun as year-of-the-date-clash (bet the Chinese haven't thought of that one). But I won't bore you with the reasons why. I still haven't learned to cope with the reality that when something happens, something else is usually happening at the same time.

I'm using this post to catch up with some belated family housekeeping matters. Firstly, congrats to big brother Matthew for landing a full time job as 2IC to the Director of Music/ Middle School at Pembroke, Adelaide, SA, Oz-Stray-ya. Kind of ironic that he gets a gig at Middle School level when his previous employer allegedly knocked him back for a promotion as he "didn't have enough experience at Middle School level". I won't name the institution, but it shares it's name with that of a luxury German car.

This photo is here for no other reason than to break up the monotony of the text

Speaking of no experience, our luddite mother is still throwing herself headlong into the world of patooters (that's Katie Hawkes-speak for computers). Apart from not being able to attach photos to emails without worrying whether or not they're still on her patooter after the email leaves, she's not doing too badly.

Here's an exchange we had after I sent her an email with a link to all the things which happen which are blamed on Global Warming.

Mumsy: I'm more interested to know if you're going to purchase (as seen on same webpage as the article) the 'CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED' dvd of "Jesus didn't Exist" by...such LUMINARIES as Jesus Seminar Fellow (what's that?) Robert M. Price, Professor (of what?) Richard Dawkins ... All this for an undisclosed price and in "crisp Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo audio"!!!!!

Me: Right, so Jesus doesn't exist now? Can't these cultural elite/ career atheists agree on anything? If he didn't exist, how could he have been married to Mary Magdelene? Or have been "revived by the coolness of the tomb"? Or been gay? Or an alien? Or "just a great bloke with some top ideas"? Or a virulent anti-semite?

You have just discovered the "automatically generated ads-by-Google". You see, they scan your browsing habits or key words in the article on the page and generate ads they think are related. So on sites which say nice things about Jesus, you'll see a google-generated ad saying "Jesus was a dangerous cult leader- read more here" or on a site satirical about communism, you'll see an ad telling you how to join the Australian Socialist Alliance. Clearly the programs which randomnly generate the ads haven't learned to decipher sarcasm.

And then, of course, there's Ebay- Google will look at what you're browsing, pick a key word and generate an ad saying you can buy that kind of thing on Ebay. So if you're reading an article about Kevin Rudd, there will be an advertisement on the side saying "Thinktanks! Great deals on thinktanks on Ebay".

I then attached, for Mumsy's benefit, an example of what happens when automated ad generating goes horribly wrong, after I was browsing for info on the Sudanese genocide.


So, as Mum and others are slowly learning, it's highly web-fashionable and trendy to leave prominent space on your webpage to the mercy of a Google-owned, automated random ad generating robot. Never mind that people reading your website about healthy eating will be lead to a site promoting suicide by weed killer. Or, that the net resource for Rabbinical Judaism will contain links to Hog's Breath. Or that whilst reading an online speech by the Archbishop of Canterbury, you'll be redirected to a site demanding sharia law (oh wait...that one was synonymous).



That reminds me, and I digress with another transcript of an exchange, this time with my highly talented godsister Katie on the subject of music, late last year:

Katie Eleanor: I'll serenade you anytime, godbrother. I'm currently working on an acoustic version of Prodigy's inspirational hit "Smack my Bitch Up"
Me: Is that what they're saying? I always thought it was "Smack my Bishop". Never had Prodigy pegged for Anglicans.

That was quite a prophetic comment now that I look at it. And once Katie has finished her acoustic version maybe we can serenade the Bishop of the Diocese of the Mu...

ANYWAY, where was I? Oh yeah, automated Google ads...

So, wanting my blog to be trendy regardless of the risks, my comrades at The People's Cube have come up with some similar ads to spice this blog. Really, they are randomnly generated.





Now, on a more civilised and far more enjoyable note, another congratulations goes to our German Frau Claudi, or more specifically her sister Katherine. Katherine has just given birth to, as they apparently say in Germany, "a little dwarf". Rather than lecture Claudi on the political incorrectness of such phrases, as they are insulting and demeaning to dwarfs, people suffering from dwarfism and garden ornaments, better just to post a piccy of Auntie Claudi and her new dwarf. I mean nephew.



Recently I have noted a spate of dwarfs born with lots and lots of hair. Our nephew Zane, and a couple from church to name some. Obviously whichever mutated gene causes this has not yet found it's way to Germany, which is good because Nicolas's father Uwe's hair is very, very grey.

Herzlichen Glückwunsch to Katherine, Uwe and Auntie Claudi.

Now click on a google ad and see where you end up. A site about tall people, perhaps.