Ineligible to vote

So here’s this week’s joke. I get an email asking me to take part in a survey. If I complete it I will earn $1. Ooh I wonder, what might I spend my hard earned dollar on – maybe an onion or a carrot might be nice.  

My answers to the first few questions will determine my eligibility.

I click my residential state, my age, my gender, and get to question 4: What medical conditions do you have? 

 I answer: None of the above.

Result: I am not eligible to take part in the survey. 

And poof, there go my dreams of a fresh new vegetable.

In the meantime I watched the presidential public forum broadcast between Krudd and Blabbot  until my eyeballs popped out and my brain exploded through my ears, and I switched over to Spicks and Specks. At least the answers there were fun and entertaining – as were the questions. And there was no wavy line that went predictably up and down to record whether I liked what I was hearing regardless of whether anyone was actually speaking at the time - or what they said.

I am still befuddled by how you can promise to create more jobs while announcing you will take your trusty little hatchet to the public service where real people, do daily grind, at the behest of politicians and managers with ever-changing new vision and are now told thanks for nothing, you’re just a bludger,  and join the dole queue. Should have got a job at the Cadbury factory.

Equally I wonder if I will get my relationship voucher, given I am not engaged, married, one of a gay couple or in a de facto relationship. And if I do get it, will it pay my rego to a Hash House Harrier event where all my worries fade away with a bit of dribbly conversation, a glass of bubbles, and a load of sheep dung?

At least the magpies are firing at the moment.

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Art Work of the Week

Go you Pie boys!

Tea with Daisy

Pick me, Pick me

I’ve been trying to avoid yet another post about the election. But it just won’t go away.

This week I’m over:

Paid parental leave

Nice idea, but apart from the equity argument, it risks setting up work environments that will actively discriminate against employing fertile young women. Why is nobody talking about this?  Is this political correctness gone awry, and yet another one of those large, four legged, leathery, grey objects we don’t mention?

The Daily Telegraph

But I’ve been over them for years so that’s nothing new. I don’t read it, I don’t buy it. I recognised in the early 80’s when they absolutely unfairly demonised Mount Druitt High School that it was and continues to be a suitable wrapper for food scraps and wet plant cuttings and that’s about it. I just can’t avoid it’s inanity being covered by the ABC and The Project.

Zed

I can’t believe he has his little garden staked signs peppering the Monaro Highway, Athlon Drive, the Parkway etc, when he went to the ACT election vowing and declaring he would work for  four years for the southern valley of Canberra and lasted for the blink of an eye before ripping the carpet from a long standing and respected senator, donning his fez and flying off for much greener pastures.  And if that’s not enough, the original signs which were formatted similarly to other candidates have popped up babies that simply say ZED. What more to say?

But at least we are getting some light moments:

I haven’t spotted, but I have had described, that beside the signs in Tuggeranong is: Vote1 (insert name of restaurant) with the slogan: Left wing, Right wing, chicken wing.  

And the youtube insights into the inner sanctum of Parliament house with its undie ironing, and  lasso twirling was a hoot. Go Bobbie and Robbie - or should that be Bobbie and Laurie- now I'm showing my age.

I do need to report that still, nobody has polled me. You would think that with all the polling that is being reported on a daily basis I should have fluked at least one call – even the random generator doesn’t value my opinion. However, if I believe my blog statistic counter on Google there are heaps of you in Russia and Latvia who do. Thanks.

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This week's Art Work

One for the Russians

Tea at St Basil's

Zip it

I’ve gone off the election with is suppository of knowledge, its Daggy dad statements, baby kissing, factory swanning, creation of new countries and reinventions of Judaism. 

 But I do like The Roast. I can get a snappy take on the day’s events with a good smattering of ironic joviality without the turgid trawling over minutiae from the regular media.  

Does that mean I am becoming one of the Twitterati with an attention span of 140 characters?

A fresh approach is always good and they say everything comes back, but it comes back different. So I have a suggestion. Could we cover the election through a series of Dorothy Dix letters?

Here are a couple to start: 

Dear Dorothy

 I am thinking of planning and overseas holiday and have run in to trouble.

 I have been trying to find the airline that flies into Islam, but agents look at me in confusion and the Virgin  and Qantas sites just crash and can’t answer the question.

Signed

Please explain

xxxxx

 One Nation Candidate :)

Dear Dorothy

 Can you tell me the six points of our Liberal party six point plan for fixing Australia. I seem to have forgotten them.

Signed

Bunny in the headlights

Liberal Candidate, Greenway

Dear Dorothy

I can't understand why the nation is not fascinated with my Titanic vision, and won't come on board. The electorate is decidedly icy. Can you help me swim against the tide?

Signed

Looking forward, looking back

Palmer United Party

Dear Dorothy

If I continue to say Stop the Boats will it become a self-fulfilling policy? I have expanded my repertoire to include: And the Boats will stop, and promised to cut the number of arrivals to three shortly after my imminent election. Should I be nervous?

Signed

Sex appeal in speedos

Liberal Annointed

Dear Dorothy

Is it negative to be positive?

Gotta zip

Signed

Ever the optimist

Labor Hopeful

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This week's art work

Depends on your perspective 

Small rocks. Acrylic, thread and fishing flies on paper

Nobody has polled me either, still....

So, we come to the end of another week of living in the electorate of Greenway, and the end of another disappointing week in terms of pollies visiting our house. Total count still equals zero. They seem to have deserted the local area, even Mr Diaz was last seen ‘campaigning’ in the Penrith area. Poor fellow, still doesn’t appear to have come to terms with the other five points.

I feel a bit sorry for our local Greens candidate, I followed his Twitter account, and within one day his account was hacked and it started sending spam messages to his followers. Not a good start to engaging with the voters.

Michelle Rowland has sent a petition about not selling off local services, not sure how that relates to her policies or what she would do if she was elected, maybe she’s done the calculations and is starting to lobby the libs for our local services now rather than having to do so in a few weeks time? By contrast the M2 and local roads have had gigantic billboards installed that are plastered with Kevin Rudd’s face and election promises. This year more than ever it’s a presidential style campaign – not too many showings of the local candidates, but a big focus on the leader. And I guess after Mr Diaz’s go at campaigning, it might not be a bad idea to just focus on the leader...Yes, let’s focus on the leaders shall we..

Mr Creepy, as I am affectionately now calling him, received a tweet from me this week suggesting he should stop kissing random women. What’s wrong with a handshake good man! Being creepy is not having a dad moment. A dad moment is when you’re driving past the cemetery and your father says “look, that must be the most popular place in town, everyone’s dying to get in”, or when asked what’s on telly tonight he would once say “by the looks of it a pot plant and a book”. As a side note, it is a shame now days that that joke shows your age, there’s not much room on the top of your average flat screen telly for anything substantial. That’s why we have ensured at our place there are two smurfs, gargamel, a black pirate duck and a black sheep. That way when asked “what’s on telly tonight”, my partner can say a “black sheep”, I can groan, roll my eyes, and an Australian tradition can be upheld! But I digress into a post for another day about the loss of history and tradition from the Australian culture, or do I...

Speaking of those who live in the sentimental past, in the mail yesterday was the CD and promotional material for Clive Palmer’s party the Palmer United Party (or pup as I like to call it). On the CD are two speeches and his TV ads, but also a weird 15 minute quasi documentary on Clive’s building of the Titanic II. I’d have been more impressed with some dinosaurs on the CD, but the Titanic II story was certainly a new twist on sharing a vision of Australia with the local electorate.  I guess you have to look backwards to look forwards, or something, I didn’t quite see what metaphor he was trying to draw. As I said, dinosaurs would have probably illustrated it better for me. Clive admits he follows the liberal party politics, but he also has a cunningly numbered six point plan. What struck me most about the plan was his thinking on asylum seekers. Here was a man who at least appeared to have thought about the humanity of seeking asylum and was proposing a different, and more compassionate solution. It may not be entirely workable, but the idea of the fast processing of claims, keeping families together and not locking people up who have had a terrible time of it already is more closely aligned to my values than either the current cruel Liberal or Labor parties policies.

However, my misfortune of living in this electorate means I need to really consider my vote. Sure, voting for Clive might be fun, or a bit of a lark. A vote for the Shooters and Fishers might send a signal to Canberra, but I really doubt it.  I am left considering my options still for both the Senate and the House of Reps....but in reality, I know who I will probably end up voting for, it’s just that I probably won’t like it very much.

Guest Blog – One week in

Well, it’s one week into the campaign, and I must say, as a vital to the outcome of the election, Greenway voter, the list of potential suitors to my door has been exactly zero.

Today, being a Saturday, I thought I would try my luck, north, south, east and west of the electorate. 

A trip to Kellyville, in the north, whilst providing the opportunity to view a lot of snakes, none were unfortunately of the political variety. There was no advertising for candidates along the track either, so we returned south to our starting point: one to ensure we were home for a possible Saturday door knock, and two, to hang out a load of washing. Killing one bird with one stone, and the pollie score still zero, we headed west. To the local innkeepers establishment, home of the western suburbs working class man, surely a fertile ground to rub flesh with a Mr Diaz or Ms Rowland whist I peruse the fine wine aisle. 

But no, so back to the start we headed once more. This again, gave us the opportunity to maximise our chance encounter with a door-knock party, but neigh, again the only idea to go up the flagpole that morning was the washing. 

So head south we did, and this time, out of the electorate, into another. This time, we did encounter a local group at the shops. But it was actually hard to tell if they were in campaign mode or just doing laps of the food court looking for a seat, which they did not find, so they promptly left – a bit odd really, a blue shirted army going around and around in circles.

So, inspired once more to maximise the opportunity to have my vote count, to be heard and have my wishes taken to the parliament, we went home.

Nothing, nada, zip.

So, lets examine the letterbox. So far one flyer from a certain Mr Diaz, and one letter dressed up as an official postal vote application which is really a letter from Mr Abbot. Mind you, the timing was impeccable, it arrived on the Monday, exactly one day after Mr Rudd called the election. He must have known an election was going to be called. That has promptly been returned to sender.

Nothing so far from my current member and she hasn’t replied to my tweet about who is her favourite footy team, so minus points there. I even gave her a hint, mentioning that I’d like to see the Bears back in the competition...

I have one new twitter follower, the local greens candidate, but he doesn’t say anything.

Clive Palmer wont reply to any of my tweets and hasn’t responded to my latest request to host one of his giant dinosaurs in my front yard in return for advertising his local candidate. He hasn’t replied to my tweet either asking who his local candidate is going to be, nor will he send me a sticker for my car. I am beginning to think he is ignoring my tweets.

So at the end of week one, I’m not feeling that valuable to the major parties, so I think next week I might investigate the minor parties – you know, power to the people and all that.