Opportunity lost

A couple of years ago, when I was toying with the idea that I might actually try to be a writer, I had a brilliant idea. In my day job I encountered a constant stream on potentially interesting people.

I thought it would be a good idea to interview people with interesting jobs, and turn it into a regular column for one of the mainstream publications. A kind of "this is who I am and this is what I do" piece, a fly on the wall thing about whatever their job entailed on any given day, including the mundane details, which might actually be quite interesting. For example, while talking to an international commercial pilot one day, he was complaining about how much paperwork had to be done during the flight. And I thought: paperwork? What paperwork? Why would you need to do any paperwork? Don't you just turn up, fly the plane to Los Angeles, land it, and hit the bars downtown? Paperwork? Who knew?

So I thought, if I didn't know what a pilot actually does all day, maybe others don't. And perhaps those same people might actually like to know.

I also wondered about an escort/prostitute. We all "know" what they do, but do we really know what they do? What occupies their average day? I thought that would be interesting to find out about, and write a piece on.

As I do with so many things, I promptly dismissed the idea as untenable. Who would pay for such a thing? Who would publish it? It probably wouldn't be as interesting as it sounded. Maybe I was the only person in the whole world who wondered what a pilot or a hooker actually did in an average work day.

Well, apparently not. Because now, two years later, there's a new regular column in one of the leading weekly publications. Guess what the column is about. Go on. Guess.

Yep. Interesting people with interesting jobs and what those interesting jobs entail.

ARRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

Crime watch

It's bad enough when serious crime takes place in your home town (see previous post), but when it happens practically on your doorstep, it becomes even more relevant.

At least this cop seems to be taking it a little more seriously than Senior Sergeant John Robinson of the stupid comments brigade.

We drive through the white trash neighbourhood of Addington a lot, and to be fair I wouldn't walk there during the day let alone walking through it at 2am on a Saturday.

Two of the little miscreants have been charged. Excuse me? Two? There were about ten of them. The cops are seeking witnesses and, presumably, the other eight?

Well, hello! I'm willing to bet the two mongrels they have in custody already know who the other eight are. Why not hang them upside down, naked, and stick little pins in their privates until they give up the names of the others? Jeez it's not rocket science.

Thought crime

". . . it's just a bunch of hooded up young people doing something dumb."

That's how Senior Sergeant John Robinson describes (Christchurch Star) how six hooded punks terrorised a young couple driving home form a party at 2am one morning. First they threw a brick at the car, narrowly missing the driver's window. When the car stopped, six of the mongrels surrounded the car, intimidating the young couple. They were armed with wooden garden stakes and wine bottles. The young woman in the car feared they were "going to be beaten up."

I suspect she feared worse than that. Who wouldn't in such a situation?

The thing that gets me here is the cop's reaction. Just kids doing dumb stuff.

Can you believe that? That's the reaction of the agency charged with the protection of society. That's what the cops really think about youth crime. Kids doing something dumb. WAY to minimise it, copper!

My son and some friends were parked at Burger King in town late one night, and their car was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of about twenty skinheads who started thumping the car. They broke off a mirror and a wiper blade and made a few dents in the panelling.

Senior Sergeant John Robinson would probably snicker and say "Ahh . . boys will be boys, eh?" LOL

Is it any wonder Christchurch was recently labelled the city residents MOST feel unsafe in?

Apparently, according to Robinson, "youth crime has reduced slightly in the last five years."

It's HEAD IN THE SAND IGNORANCE like this idiot has that enables him to stupidly regurgitate politicians' wishful thinking that youth crime is down.

NEWSFLASH: it's not down, it's just not being reported!

It's not being reported because society now realises THE POLICE ARE USELESS! There's no POINT reporting most criminal behaviour because even if the cops show up, which isn't a guarantee, there's nothing they can do. And if the perpetrators walk into the police station and hand themselves in for being naughty - which is the only way they'll ever be apprehended - the limp wristed pathetic court system can't do anything with them either.

It's not down, it's in the too hard basket.

The young man in the car tried to reverse but the mongrels behind him didn't flinch, and he didn't want to hit them with the car.

Well, I have to disagree there. I think he should have floored it and taken out as many of the little shits as he possibly could. Then gunned it forward to take out a few more. Oops, maybe I'm committing a crime by saying that. Or even thinking it.

The cops can't find the six punks who terrorised the couple, but they'll track me down and prosecute me for espousing an anti-social attitude. Thought-crime.

I can't even really begin to explain how angry and cynical I am about this sort of stuff. But I think so are a lot of people. Which simply feeds a sense of powerlessness, which in turns feeds the egos of idiots like Robinson and those morons further up the chain, right to the Minister. They want us to be terrified. They need us to be powerless. God forbid the "powerless" masses decide NO MORE and start taking matters into their own hands.

Dealing with youth crime and boy racers? Easy when you step outside the stifling boundaries of laws designed to protect criminals. A bit of money and organisation, I can see youth gangs and boy racers gone from Christchurch streets.

HOW. DARE. HE.

Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature -- that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance -- and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? - Ivan Karamazov


I was reading the story of little Hana. It was Child Cancer collection day and I donated ten bucks for the cute little bracelet with two colourful beads on it.

Little Hana is unfortunately, cruelly, representative of many many New Zealand children whose wee bodies and families are wracked by the cancer that is cancer. Her story, like the others, was truly heartbreaking, so much so that I couldn't’t finish reading it, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Not a good look for one trying to maintain such a staunch macho image.

I got to thinking later on about how I was once called upon to defend the indefensible. As part of an oral exam, my professor, playing Devil’s advocate, demanded I explain to him why God ordered the wholesale slaughter of the Midianites. Not just the men, but the women and children. The women. The children! Why?

What could I say? God has a purpose? A greater purpose, plan, than anyone can begin to understand?

That’s the standard line. That and the whole free-will thing. God made us with free will and because we chose to exercise it, the consequences are the horrific sufferings we see around us each day.

The consequence is that little Hana has to suffer and die from a debilitating destructive disease.

There are always two sides to every argument. One side, for example, is absolutely convinced Princess Diana was killed in an MI5 assassination plot. The other side thinks it was a terrible accident. And there is inevitably a lost and ambivalent minority who don’t know or don’t care. But by and large there are two camps.

As to little Hana, there is a camp that fully believes in the standard line, that any amount of suffering here and now is but a headache compared to the eternity of comfort coming (if you toe the party line, but that’s another debate).

The other camp, angry, bitter, narrow-minded infidels, cannot possibly understand why an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God could do such a thing.

HOW. DARE. HE.

I must confess to never having set up tent in the former camp, despite my conservative raisings. Even before I understood it fully, my unexplored theodicy baulked at the naïveté of such a weak argument.

This is the best he could do? The creator of the Universe, who spoke galaxies into existence, who breathed life into every animated thing in the cosmos, who transcends time and space and knowledge – this is the best he could do? This is the best of all possible worlds?

I don’t think so.

I can imagine a better world. I can imagine a couple, actually. Am I therefore smarter than God? Apparently.

If I were responsible for creating a fabric of human destiny – ifyou were – could I found that edifice on the unavenged tears of little Hana? Could you?

If the only possible world to create was predicated on the necessity of making little Hana’s five short years a living, incontrovertibly painful nightmare of vomiting convulsions, energy-sapping blood transfusions, tears and screams of anguish and a better than average chance of an intolerably lingering death leaving behind a wake of misfortune and tragedy for generations, would I do it? Would you?

Of course not. Of course you wouldn’t. Why would you?

Look into little Hana’s teary eyes and claim God is good. Watch her family disintegrate with grief and say that God is all powerful. Stand at her grave and praise God for his all seeing eyes. I dare you.

The logic is sound. God cannot have all those attributes. If he lacks one he ceases to be.

The common sense is even more sound. It is, as Dostovsky wrote, “beyond all comprehension why they (the children) should suffer, and why they should pay for the harmony.”

Call the thought police

I really struggle with this one. On the one hand, somewhere in my psyche I can really understand where the detractors are coming from. In these PC times, not only are you not allowed to make fun of any "minority", you're not even allowed to let slip anything that remotely sounds like mirth about said minorities. Especially if you're the President of the United States.

But on the other hand, I think this is an example of how dangerously sensitive everyone has become. It is now only permissible to make fun of middle-class, employed, white males. Anybody outside of that demographic is out of bounds.

Minority groups have labels, often derogatory, for those who are not of their own persuasion. Gays can knock straights until the cows come home, but god forbid somebody straight says - or even thinks - anything remotely homophobic. The thought police are on their doorstep quick smart. Ethnic minorities can say whatever they like about whites, no matter how defamatory, and can discuss openly and hatefully their history. But woe betide paleskins who remind Maoris or Asians, or African Americans of their own unsavoury history.

There was a Maori woman, an academic I want to say was Margaret Mutu, on TV ages ago, and I was stunned at her unrestrained re-definition of the word racism. She said it was discrimination based on race by those with enough authority to enforce it. And I thought OMG! She was on Eye to Eye so of course she went unchallenged. How pointless would it be to ever challenge a Maori woman on anything anyway? The race card would be out only slightly quicker than the gender card and then all discussion would halt.

So apparently it is not possible for Maoris to be racist. I wish I had known that when I was growing up in The Block (note the house in this article, number 36, is THE house I used to live in!). I would have felt much better about the daily - hourly - taunts and threats I received simply because I was pakeha. If I had known I was the one with all the authority I'm sure my childhood would have been much less terrifying and dangerous.

And I would have felt much less sensitive about the derogatory remarks I had thrown at me from the State houses as I walked to school or the dairy or my milk run.

Obama has been accused of being out of touch, because of his "special olympics" remark. I think it lets us know how NORMAL he is. He let slip that his thought processes are just like 99% of us who have not been corrupted by the PC virus. I have heard downs syndrome people make fun of "normal" people. But if Mutu's definition can cross demographic boundaries, it's perfectly okay.

Another example. It seems quite legitimate that Christians can be the targets of derision and hate, but don't dare make fun of Muslims.

Poor Obama had to call the Special Olympics guy from Air Force One, even before the Leno show aired. Give him credit for being pro-active on that, I guess.

If only we could invent a way, if only this were a world when unmet people could say you charm me and I’d like to know who you are. With a code: ‘No thanks,’ if the charm might not be mutual. - Richard Bach

I don’t encounter too many people by whom I am charmed. That is either an indictment on society, or on me.

It seems people are not very connected anymore, or if they ever were they are now not as so. Which is a shame. It seems our default setting is suspicion, or contempt, or cynicism, or anger. We are polite to a point, amicable to a point, connected to a point. Beyond that the claws come out.

We are, by and large, intolerant. We care little for the expressions of others, unless there is some gain for us. We are increasingly aware of the importance of privacy – perhaps, unfortunately, for good reason – and obsessively protective of it. We are increasingly sensitive to the advances of others.

Or has it always been that way?

Perhaps in the “good old days” we were just as sensitive, but more adept at suppressing it because of social conventions no longer in play.

People wear their hearts on their sleeves less now. While honesty used to be the theatre of the discreet, it is now the hostage of the politically correct.

Apparently even in the 70s when Bach wrote A Bridge Across Forever, a confession of charm was not a simple thing. Even now it can be translated a myriad of ways.

I like that skirt.
You have a lovely smile.
Your perfume smells wonderful.
I think you’re beautiful.
I love you.

I think we should be afforded five minutes of confession - isn’t it good for the soul? - at random times during the day. Five minutes of honesty without agenda, and without consequence. An opportunity to bear your soul without fear of rejection and without damaging your future interactions.

I’d love that.

Crap Government, Crappier Opposition

Hasn't the Labour Party shown its true colours. I seem to remember strong denials from the Labour spin doctors, and even Clark herself, about a possible cushy number with the UN. Now? Clark's in New York for a job interview - a cushy position with the UN. Not only did she run the country into the ground in her 9 years as PM, but she certainly managed to feather her nest for her retirement, didn't she.

And now her sycophant 2IC is leaving politics. Building a house in the Bay of Plenty. Nice for some. Glad our tax dollars have set him up well.

And the political leftovers, Phil Goff and the only other Labour MP to be heard lately, Clayton Cosgrove, are showing themselves to be truly ignorant and out of touch indeed. Goff is criticising the national government for stuff now that is so clearly the detritus of their pathetic attempt at leadership over the last 9 years.

I used to like Phil Goff. Not now. He has taken over the contempt Clark and Cullen had for regular Kiwis. Does he think we are so stupid that we've already forgotten that it was them that got us into a lot of the crap New Zealand is in now? I know some of it is global, but what did they do to protect us from what a lot of New Zealanders KNEW was coming?

They just make themselves look pathetic when they criticise the present government for stuff they got us into. But I'm sure his retirement is secure. His property is secure. His job will continue, probably with a pay rise. His family will have food, and the power bill will be paid.

Why should he give a shit about any of us?

Mumsy must be so proud

Ever wondered what spoilt little white kids get up to on the weekends? On your tax dollars? Isn't it great to see what the future looks like?

What is truly disturbing is that this lovely little flower will probably see this photo in the newspaper and be proud of it. Think it's cool. Her mates will praise her.

I wonder who she is? Remember that Chinese woman, or maybe she was Japanese, who was mercilessly hounded by photo-vigilantes and paparazzi because she had committed some social faux pas? I can't even remember what it was, but she was followed and photographed and humiliated for . . well, at least a week.

Anyway, I think it would be great if this little angel became the poster girl for everything that's wrong in the world. Find her. Identify her. Out her. Blitz her Facebook page. Hound her. Humiliate her. SHAME her. And then send her a bill for every cent of our tax money she's drank and then puked.

And then go after her mates.

I'm no expert, but . . .

. . . I'm getting a bit sick of some of these companies pleading hard times. Fisher and Paykel is just the latest, but a very clear example of the current environment, a la GM and the big three (or is it five?) flying in their corporate jets to talk to George W about a handout.

It seems to me that these companies (is DB going to be next ?) are not sacking hard-working employees to stay afloat. They are out-sourcing and down-sizing so that the profits can remain level. And so that the executives can maintain their current salaries (or there abouts).

Jeez life must be tough for John Bongard. His 7.5% salary cut will still leave him with something like a cool million a year. He's overseen massive job cuts at his company. Those minimum wage (or not much more I'm sure) jobs were outsourced to slave labour in Thailand and Mexico where they probably pay the workers 8 cents per hour, and he's sanctimoniously offering to drop his salary by the price of a new Mercedes. Damn! He might just have to drive last years model.

And he's gone cap in hand to the New Zealand taxpayer (so to speak) for a hand-out. He wants MY tax dollars so he can keep his wife in Gucci shoes and his mistresses in pretty lingerie.

So this year they're only going to make 30 million profit. I'm sure the ripple effect is going to mean little old mums and dads relying on their F&P dividend are going to have to turn the heater down this winter, but that's better than being one of the now unemployed F&P factory workers who won't have any heat at all.

I'd be willing to bet Bongard has a lovely palatial house somewhere on Paratai Drive. Maybe his ex-employees could front up there for soup and accommodation in the gardener's quarters.

Technology

So, I bought a new computer. I don't know why I bothered. Technology is so far behind human evolution, it's sad. I think with as many geeks squirrelled away in musty cubicles, technology, especially computers, should be way ahead of where it is.

Take this new laptop. It's pretty nice. Thousand bucks, so it's not top of the line, but it works, which, i suppose was a good start. Then of course, because I don't have a PhD in computer geekery, I had to spend an hour on the phone to Xtra (who were very helpful, I must say, given their obviously limited resources) @configuring@ the broadband. And did you notice the @ symbol instead of the " symbol? That's because while my new laptop is very pretty and by and large works very fast and very well, the Shift 2 button, which on every other computer in the Western world is the @ symbol, is in fact the " symbol. Despite there being a @ picture above the 2. And when I push the Shift " button, I get a @. WTF?

Technology. Jeez.

So after my hour phone call with "Mark" from Manila (probably) and another 20 minute call to Xtra to learn that I had to reset the modem, I went to bed frustrated as hell. I had already spent 18 hours the night before waiting for the battery to fully charge before I could touch the machine. So another night passed with very little progress on the new computer.

Then the real fun begins. Transferring stuff and loading software. Good grief. Doesn't that sound pathetic. Transfer files - Word documents, pictures, favourites, email contacts and files. I'm not even going to think about the music. I'll just have to hope my MP3 player doesn't die, which given the state of technology, it probably will at some point. Soon.

Load the software for Digital Recorder, Mobile modem, Office 2003 because the demo 2007 on this machine will self-destruct after 25 opens, then I'll be liable for who knows how many more hundreds of dollars to upgrade. Then, probably the most important of my little gadgets, my PDA. Won't load. Not compatible with Vista. You're kidding me! What? OMG!

So Jackie gets all pro-active and gets a good deal on a new PDA. Software won't load and is probably not compatible with Vista.

This is exactly the reason I wanted a new laptop with XP on it, but of course there aren't many of them around any more. Fucking Bill Gates and his monopoly!

So now I am PDA-less - well, okay I have to sync my PDA with the home desktop and transfer with a flashdrive the files I'll be editing on the PDA. Small hassle I guess, but a hassle nonetheless. Until I can spring for a better new PDA, no doubt more several hundreds of dollars.

And I still can't fix the @ " mix-up on my keyboard. Oh, and the hash button is a £ sign and I cant find the hash button anywhere. So I hope in the next few years of using this computer I don't need the hash symbol.

Why can't computers be like the ones on Star Trek?

You sit down in front of it, tell it what to do, and it does it. "Computer, load everything from that computer onto this one, only make it better." And it's done a millisecond later. i guess in these antiquated times I would settle for having to plug a cord between the two computers, but even that's antiquated. How many cords do we need? Power cable, in two sections, with that big box thing that heats up; USB cables for Africa; sync and power cables for the PDA which is now useless; ethernet cable for modem (even though it's "wireless"), more power cables for each device and probably a few more USB cables (printer, camera, MP3 player).

Flashdrives are now like floppy disks were, and then CDs. They lay around and you never know whats on them because at least floppys and DCs had spaces on them to write what's on them.

Why in the 21st Century are things so antiquated?

And don't get me started on the Internet. It's just as antiquated and cumbersome as the technology it demands to use it. Is it pretty much used only for games and porn now? Oh, and blogging of course.

I don't know whay I bother.