Richard has finally been elected after the Labour Party demanded a recount. Serve them right. He's done a lot of work in the locality over a long time and Ivana Bacik was a blow-in aimed, I suspect, at ensuring that the ULA did not get the seat. It backfired. FF's Mary Hanafin is declaring that "politics is in her blood" and bemoaning the fact that there was only 1 Dublin TD, no women, and only 18 so far overall. They've dropped from 77 deputies elected in 2007 to 71 in January 2011, to 18 now.
Which means that the ULA now has almost one third the seats of FF. A decade ago, who would have thought that could come to pass?
All 6 Greens lost their seats. They reckon they can come back. I wouldn't be so sure, myself, not after legitimising the fiasco economics played out by FF is the last few years. And SF have 14 seats.
But most importantly, we won five seats, with Richard Boyd-Barrett, Joe Higgins, Clare Daly, Joan Collins and Seamus Healy all winning seats. This means that there will be a strong, focussed and principled left wing opposition in the Dáil, and will ensure that what I think will be the inevitable slide to the right by SF will be checked. It will also be a thorn in the side of what will not doubt be a cosy alliance between FG and Labour, which is good.
So here it goes!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Election Day - Vote 1 ULA!
It's election day in Ireland today. The Sydney Morning Herald has run the photo beloved of the international press, of an unidentified islander somewhere off the west coast, lugging a ballot box with a member of the Garda Síochána. The islanders always get to vote early due, to the unpredictability of the weather and the inherent isolation of living on a very small island off a slightly larger island in the Atlantic. This is a quaint notion to many less isolated countries.
Fianna Fáil, the dominant party for the last decade will be going down in flames, as those responsible for the fiscal irresponsibility that has put Ireland in the state it's in. There are a number of parallels that can be drawn between them and NSW Labor, nepotism, cronyism, incompetence and much the same ethics.
The Greens, who supported FF through the last few years, after the good times went and the bank bailouts began, will be done like a dogs dinner, and will in future have much the same relevance. It's said that to sup with the devil you need a long spoon. The Greens appear to have been using a teaspoon. They'd have been better off with the worlds biggest parfait spoon.
Mine you, Fine Gael won't be much better, and alas, they will be the next party in power. Enda Kenny is a sanctimonious ex-teacher who hails from Mayo. Many wish he'd stayed there, not least those of us appalled by his "joke" about Patrice Lumumba, the first president of the Congo who was subsequently assassinated. Lumumba's relative live in Dublin, so not only was it crass, it was stupid as well.
Still, that's the kind of person he is.
The ULA should do well. I'm not going to jinx it, but we should get at the very least two, hopefully three seats and the potential for a few more. It won't stop the IMF 'bailout', but it will ensure that ethics and honestly have a place in the Dáil that has been vacant for far too long.
But now I will digress into the lovely topic of Irish political party names. Labour, the Greens, meh. The late, but certainly unlamented Progressive Democrats had an American style name to match their ruthlessly American Republican style politics. All the left wing parties have decent workaday names that tell their politics, Socialist Party, Socialist Workers Party, People before Profit, United Left Alliance.
But the three parties that have their names in Irish, now THOSE are names! Fianna Fáil's name in English is "Soldiers of Destiny". They have their destiny all right, but I suspect it will be more soldering the remnant pieces back together, than the mighty army soldiering on. Plus I'm looking forward to the inevitable headlines over the weekend proclaiming Fianna FAIL! It's great the difference a fothar can make.
Fine Gael's name means "Tribe of the Gaels". Well, they certainly are a tribe all right, despite the fact that in the 21st century they prefer to present a somewhat more sophisticated face to the world. Turn them upside down though, and you'll still see the mud on their wellies.
And finally, Sinn Féin, Irish for we ourselves, or ourselves alone. Which they have been in Irish politics for a long time, sensibly keeping a distance from the centre right. However, as the North has shown, it won't be long before they're cosying up in positions of power.
It promises to be interesting.
Fianna Fáil, the dominant party for the last decade will be going down in flames, as those responsible for the fiscal irresponsibility that has put Ireland in the state it's in. There are a number of parallels that can be drawn between them and NSW Labor, nepotism, cronyism, incompetence and much the same ethics.
The Greens, who supported FF through the last few years, after the good times went and the bank bailouts began, will be done like a dogs dinner, and will in future have much the same relevance. It's said that to sup with the devil you need a long spoon. The Greens appear to have been using a teaspoon. They'd have been better off with the worlds biggest parfait spoon.
Mine you, Fine Gael won't be much better, and alas, they will be the next party in power. Enda Kenny is a sanctimonious ex-teacher who hails from Mayo. Many wish he'd stayed there, not least those of us appalled by his "joke" about Patrice Lumumba, the first president of the Congo who was subsequently assassinated. Lumumba's relative live in Dublin, so not only was it crass, it was stupid as well.
Still, that's the kind of person he is.
The ULA should do well. I'm not going to jinx it, but we should get at the very least two, hopefully three seats and the potential for a few more. It won't stop the IMF 'bailout', but it will ensure that ethics and honestly have a place in the Dáil that has been vacant for far too long.
But now I will digress into the lovely topic of Irish political party names. Labour, the Greens, meh. The late, but certainly unlamented Progressive Democrats had an American style name to match their ruthlessly American Republican style politics. All the left wing parties have decent workaday names that tell their politics, Socialist Party, Socialist Workers Party, People before Profit, United Left Alliance.
But the three parties that have their names in Irish, now THOSE are names! Fianna Fáil's name in English is "Soldiers of Destiny". They have their destiny all right, but I suspect it will be more soldering the remnant pieces back together, than the mighty army soldiering on. Plus I'm looking forward to the inevitable headlines over the weekend proclaiming Fianna FAIL! It's great the difference a fothar can make.
Fine Gael's name means "Tribe of the Gaels". Well, they certainly are a tribe all right, despite the fact that in the 21st century they prefer to present a somewhat more sophisticated face to the world. Turn them upside down though, and you'll still see the mud on their wellies.
And finally, Sinn Féin, Irish for we ourselves, or ourselves alone. Which they have been in Irish politics for a long time, sensibly keeping a distance from the centre right. However, as the North has shown, it won't be long before they're cosying up in positions of power.
It promises to be interesting.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Sheep are smarter that previously thought.
Sheep are Smart!
This brilliant little article gives the lie to those who claim sheep are dull, witless creatures, the four legged equivalent of the goldfish.
I feel vindicated.
Flabbergasted
In other not so notable news, the Small Child was sick on Saturday. Thankfully, it was one of those 12 hour bugs and did not involve much in the way of copious amounts of vomitting, for which I am exceedingly grateful. Memories of the The Great Giardia Explosion of 2009 are still fresh in my mind, when the Small Child was much smaller and not of a sufficiently mature grasp of linguistics to be able to tell me she had a funny metalic taste in her mouth, which I gather is one of the principal methods of diagnosing the bug.
Alas, we had to do it the long way, which involved copious amounts of chuck, poo samples, a scarily limp and lethargic child and numerous trips to the GP/hospital/paediatrician, all in a two week period before we left to go to Ireland on our first trip back since we left in October 2006. I honestly never thought we'd make it. It didn't help that Himself was working for an utter dickhead of the I-employ-you-so-your-soul-belongs-to-me species, and working long, long hours.
We're still not entirely sure what caused the bug. Himself suspects it was dodgy blueberries, this being the first item heralding its arrival, and I am inclined to agree with him. The Small Child resolutely refuses to buy this in any way, shape or form, and chucks tanties when she sees what she currently can't have.
Oh, well, maybe tonight, when I purchase some fresh ones.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
On Architecture
So much architecture is soul destroying. For me, Meriton is a prime example of this - buildings built to minimum standards, poorly designed and constructed, sapping the life of those living in and around them. Far too many buildings in Sydney are like this, boring, bland, identikit, saying nothing of the city in which they are constructed, indistinguishable from similar buildings half a world away.
Then there are other buildings, which are inspiring, life affirming, buildings that speak of the time and place in which they were built, buildings that spark a sense of wonderment and awe, that make us marvel at the genius of those who both created the vision and those who, more prosaically, put a physical form to the concept.
The Sydney Opera house and Harbour Bridge are two of the most internationally recognised of these. The Millau Viaduct for me, is another, the highest bridge in the world and a spectacular example of how beautiful a structure can be when it seamlessly combines both form and function.
And then there are the buildings that the world forgot, or has never even known about. I'm reading at the moment a book on the lost architecture of the Soviet Union - buildings that were commissioned and built in the last 20 years before the Wall came down and the Second World disappeared for ever. Frederic Chaubin photographed dozens of these buildings, forgotten and decaying on the edges of the old USSR and collated them in a book.
It is awe inspiring. At a time when the conventional image of the Eastern Bloc were of grey crumbling concrete buildings, leaching hope and individuality with last winters snow, the architects of these incredible structures were being given free reign. These men and women are getting old now, living in unjustified obscurity, acclaim being given to those whose imagination would never soar as high. Yes, Harry Seidler, I'm talking to you.
My favourite is that shown above, the Ministry of Highways Building in Tblisi, Georgia which was completed in 1974. The different levels, the way in which it appears to be part of, yet apart from the vegetation around, the juxtaposition of light and shadow, protrusion and recess, the simple fact that it is so utterly unlike anything else around all combine into an awe inspiring building that opens the mind to the possibilities that humans can create.
And this is not a singular example. There are flights of genius like this all over the former USSR.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Every Revolution Needs Sparkle
Egypt is certainly very sparkly at the moment. The fact that the unions have had a defining role, that the dodgier elements of the religious right are not really in evidence, but women are, the feeling that people are discovering their autonomy and are defining themselves and what they what to be. It's all contributing to the sparkle.
So now I'll try to explain bobthekelpie's theory of sparkle.
Not everyone sparkles. Some people are too dull, too ponderous, too lacking in humour, too serious. Sparkle adds levity, of a good sort. Sparkle is charm, lightheartedness, an ability to see the absurd, an ability to laugh at oneself and also at others. Sparkle makes you interested and interesting to others. Sparkle can be quite muted, perhaps a hint amongst the navy blue existence of your life, or it can be full-on glamorous gold and rainbows that would not be out of place in the Mardi Gras. How much you sparkle depends on your own personality.
I think everyone is born with sparkle, but alas, some feel it neccessary to leave behind, like milk teeth, or braces, or that Star Wars collection that was your very most favourite thing ever, aged 11. Babies and toddles sparkle. That's why we (generally) are so fond of them.
Sparkle does not mean that you are a fluffy headed idiot without an idea in your head, not at all. Some of the most sparkly people I know are seriously intellectual revolutionaries.
It's part of joie de vivre, having an interest in life and in the people around you. It's knowing when to be serious and when to let your hair down and just have a laugh.
There are two things that sparkle cannot co-exist with, smugness and ernestness. Coincidentally, these two personality traits have long been sins which bobthekelpie thinks should be deadly sins. OK, the nine deadly sinds doesn't have quite the same ring as the seven deadly sins, but, hey, whatever.
Sparkle does tends to fade when confronted by these, because they have that ability to drag the life out of sparkle, until it is but a wan and pallid form of its previous self. This is why sparkly people do not have too many non-sparkly friends, because loss of sparkle can be contagious.
Conversely, I think that in many circumstances sparkle can be contagious, it just needs the right circumstances and ingredients.
Like the Egyptian revolution.
Beecause the world as a whole needs more sparkle.
So now I'll try to explain bobthekelpie's theory of sparkle.
Not everyone sparkles. Some people are too dull, too ponderous, too lacking in humour, too serious. Sparkle adds levity, of a good sort. Sparkle is charm, lightheartedness, an ability to see the absurd, an ability to laugh at oneself and also at others. Sparkle makes you interested and interesting to others. Sparkle can be quite muted, perhaps a hint amongst the navy blue existence of your life, or it can be full-on glamorous gold and rainbows that would not be out of place in the Mardi Gras. How much you sparkle depends on your own personality.
I think everyone is born with sparkle, but alas, some feel it neccessary to leave behind, like milk teeth, or braces, or that Star Wars collection that was your very most favourite thing ever, aged 11. Babies and toddles sparkle. That's why we (generally) are so fond of them.
Sparkle does not mean that you are a fluffy headed idiot without an idea in your head, not at all. Some of the most sparkly people I know are seriously intellectual revolutionaries.
It's part of joie de vivre, having an interest in life and in the people around you. It's knowing when to be serious and when to let your hair down and just have a laugh.
There are two things that sparkle cannot co-exist with, smugness and ernestness. Coincidentally, these two personality traits have long been sins which bobthekelpie thinks should be deadly sins. OK, the nine deadly sinds doesn't have quite the same ring as the seven deadly sins, but, hey, whatever.
Sparkle does tends to fade when confronted by these, because they have that ability to drag the life out of sparkle, until it is but a wan and pallid form of its previous self. This is why sparkly people do not have too many non-sparkly friends, because loss of sparkle can be contagious.
Conversely, I think that in many circumstances sparkle can be contagious, it just needs the right circumstances and ingredients.
Like the Egyptian revolution.
Beecause the world as a whole needs more sparkle.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
People are funny
Took a look at Facebook today, in the allotted 2 hours per day we are permitted in this workplace. I suspect that for many people, Facebook can be a strange out of body experience, with so many sections of one's life all jumbled together like so many odd socks.
My own Facebook page is a fine example of this. Take the world around us. At this point in time Egypt is rising to free itself from the Mubarak dictatorship, following in the steps of Algeria, Tunisia and Yemen. The Irish goverment, discredited and derisive, are bailing out to the tune of 6-figure pensions, while the average Joe wonders how they can possibly think they are entitled to this and a 30 year old woman dies of hypothermia due to the Council cutting off her heat during the cold snap.
Queensland has faced the most destructive floods in human history, and the clean up is barely started when Cyclone Yasi tracks towards the Cairns coast, with experts predicting the impact will be worse than Cyclone Tracy. The NSW government, heading for annihiliation in 6 weeks time following unprecidented corruption and cronyism and with a legacy that will probably outrun Askin's, still attempts to feather its own nest and rivals that of Ireland in the sheer number of corrupt and absconding politicians.
And Julia Gillard is getting grief because she is proposing an entirely reasonable and logical flood levy, to which the average Australia taxpayer will be expected to contribute somewhat less than a fiver a week, because somehow people seem to think that governments have little pots of gold, constantly replenished, to which the populace should have endless access but never have to contribute to.
It's an interesting time to live. Many friends across the left are posting about these happenings, sharing links and information, educating and informing others in a manner that would not ever have been possible previously.
And then there are my other friends, to whom politics is not so much their lifeblood, but something that happens on the evening news, when they watch it. Their greatest meaning is their children, their families These are friends I love, whose company refreshes me, and whose lives enrich mine. It's good having people around like this, to laugh and joke and be frivolous with, to discuss vital issues of poo and babies, and why they don't eat greens and will only go to sleep with 7 handpicked companions, or just what is the subtle allure of Dora The Explorer.
I love all of my friends. But the juxtasposition of status updates can make Facebook a bizarre place at times.
My own Facebook page is a fine example of this. Take the world around us. At this point in time Egypt is rising to free itself from the Mubarak dictatorship, following in the steps of Algeria, Tunisia and Yemen. The Irish goverment, discredited and derisive, are bailing out to the tune of 6-figure pensions, while the average Joe wonders how they can possibly think they are entitled to this and a 30 year old woman dies of hypothermia due to the Council cutting off her heat during the cold snap.
Queensland has faced the most destructive floods in human history, and the clean up is barely started when Cyclone Yasi tracks towards the Cairns coast, with experts predicting the impact will be worse than Cyclone Tracy. The NSW government, heading for annihiliation in 6 weeks time following unprecidented corruption and cronyism and with a legacy that will probably outrun Askin's, still attempts to feather its own nest and rivals that of Ireland in the sheer number of corrupt and absconding politicians.
And Julia Gillard is getting grief because she is proposing an entirely reasonable and logical flood levy, to which the average Australia taxpayer will be expected to contribute somewhat less than a fiver a week, because somehow people seem to think that governments have little pots of gold, constantly replenished, to which the populace should have endless access but never have to contribute to.
It's an interesting time to live. Many friends across the left are posting about these happenings, sharing links and information, educating and informing others in a manner that would not ever have been possible previously.
And then there are my other friends, to whom politics is not so much their lifeblood, but something that happens on the evening news, when they watch it. Their greatest meaning is their children, their families These are friends I love, whose company refreshes me, and whose lives enrich mine. It's good having people around like this, to laugh and joke and be frivolous with, to discuss vital issues of poo and babies, and why they don't eat greens and will only go to sleep with 7 handpicked companions, or just what is the subtle allure of Dora The Explorer.
I love all of my friends. But the juxtasposition of status updates can make Facebook a bizarre place at times.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
God the Builder
The Small Child attends a Seventh Day Adventist creche. It's not a religion I know a great deal about, as an atheist, and and atheist moreover who comes from a Catholic background. But I digress. The creche is good and I have no problem with the religion. So far as I'm concerned, people have a lot of differing views, and the sooner you learn to (generally) respect them, so much the better.
But I digress further. So the Small Child is sitting with her small friends, singing a song about "God The Builder". Her Granny watches for a bit, with an expression on her face that the carers no doubt interpret as loving the song, and a better person might interpret as deep cynicism.
In the car later, Granny asks the Small Child what the song was
"God the Builder, Gran. Mummy and me went to a special store and bought the DVD, didn't we mum?"
Err, no.
Enlightenment occurs. The Small Child is mixing up God and Bob, a natural mistake given that both build, but Bob builds better.
Especially in this house, where God builds not at all.
But I digress further. So the Small Child is sitting with her small friends, singing a song about "God The Builder". Her Granny watches for a bit, with an expression on her face that the carers no doubt interpret as loving the song, and a better person might interpret as deep cynicism.
In the car later, Granny asks the Small Child what the song was
"God the Builder, Gran. Mummy and me went to a special store and bought the DVD, didn't we mum?"
Err, no.
Enlightenment occurs. The Small Child is mixing up God and Bob, a natural mistake given that both build, but Bob builds better.
Especially in this house, where God builds not at all.
The Cast Has Died
Ok, so that was a really bad pun, probably unworthy of the name. But still, the cast has now left my right foot, and after about an hour in the shower yesterday, more or less successfully removing the accumulated gunk off said foot, it's right to go.
Except it's not. It's still incredibly swollen with a weird little red patch of broken capilliaries in a very prominent position on what used to be my attractive and slender right ankle. Nothing attractive or slender about it now, my boy! It has a 4 inch scar up the back, a host of little black dots caused by ingrown hairs around the entire ankle and calf, against which war will be waged, and the aforementioned capilliaries. I also have a right foot like Barbie's (leaving aside that hers are slim, hairless and brown) and so currently cannot wear flat shoes. This is more problematic that I once might have imagined.
Still it's gone. And it ain't coming back again. No. Oh, no no no. And I'm enjoying the subtle pleasures of being able to stand up in the shower, roll over in bed without a dead weight on my leg and the fact that I no long feel like I am wearing a winter boot in the middle of a hot and humid Sydney summer.
Ah, the heat.
Let me pass now the other issue of note at present. According to the Herald, it is currently 32 degrees, although hotter earlier in the day. This is, however, only the start of an entire week of hot weather that is not predicted to end until Sunday. And it will be humid, so it will be sweltering at night as well. The joy. Those who posit the theory that hell is a furnace have ignored the crucial element of water. Hell should really be described as a humid furnace if maximum torture is required for the masses interred therein.
Except it's not. It's still incredibly swollen with a weird little red patch of broken capilliaries in a very prominent position on what used to be my attractive and slender right ankle. Nothing attractive or slender about it now, my boy! It has a 4 inch scar up the back, a host of little black dots caused by ingrown hairs around the entire ankle and calf, against which war will be waged, and the aforementioned capilliaries. I also have a right foot like Barbie's (leaving aside that hers are slim, hairless and brown) and so currently cannot wear flat shoes. This is more problematic that I once might have imagined.
Still it's gone. And it ain't coming back again. No. Oh, no no no. And I'm enjoying the subtle pleasures of being able to stand up in the shower, roll over in bed without a dead weight on my leg and the fact that I no long feel like I am wearing a winter boot in the middle of a hot and humid Sydney summer.
Ah, the heat.
Let me pass now the other issue of note at present. According to the Herald, it is currently 32 degrees, although hotter earlier in the day. This is, however, only the start of an entire week of hot weather that is not predicted to end until Sunday. And it will be humid, so it will be sweltering at night as well. The joy. Those who posit the theory that hell is a furnace have ignored the crucial element of water. Hell should really be described as a humid furnace if maximum torture is required for the masses interred therein.
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