Abandoned vegetales

According to an eyewitness account, someone has recklessly abandoned their health today, after vegetables (pictured) were found strewn on the side of a path.

Chucked in wild abandonment, until someone placed them neatly on a ledge, and bound and gagged them, like some sort of confused serial killer copycat deconstructing the scene of a crime. 

How did this all come about, I hear you cry out, desperate for more information. Was the planned meal abandoned due to poor cooking conditions? Was it lack of cooking ability? Was it forsaken, cast aside for a prepared meal from Uber Eats? Maybe the carry bag was sinking fast and the vegetables decided to jump ship? 

Or is because it’s celery, which deserves to be strewn on a street. We’ll just never know. Because the eyewitness wasn’t so witness-y after all. 

As an Enquiry and, more importantly, an Inquiry, is launched into why there has been a significant increase in vegetables being strewn all over the place on this path and how to prevent it in the future, the fate of the vegetables in question hangs in the balance, and their future is most certainly unclear.
 
What is known, however, is that they are currently wilting in the sun. If it’s any consolation, the vegetables had very few loved ones.

TV REVIEW: I watched Midsomer Murders

I love a good old fashioned depraved murder as much as the next guy with a cold heart and a television remote. 

British old-school television show Midsomer Murders really sets the gold standard for people killing off other people in spectacularly perverse and unrealistic ways.  

And there's none of that new world Netflix business where you have to guess the plot because the TV show title is just a bit too clever. There gonna be murders in Midsomer.

There is something about a quaint little chocolate box village that has a tendency for murdering just about everybody who walks its cobblestones.

And as in all loosely based detective narratives, never in the history of the township of Midsomer has anyone ever linked any murder to the one that happened on the show just last week, or the week before that. They are all completely unrelated obviously and why would you even question that?

Here are some of my thought bubbles as dastardly events took place:

• Detective Chief Inspector (DCI) Barnaby, the superstar super-detective super detective chief inspector of the show, seems to stay cheery despite the fact his beat is full of innovative sociopaths.

• DCI Barnaby spends much of his shift being accosted by little old ladies who like to spill all the sordid, scandalous personal secrets of the villagers. Which are invariably not relevant to any case he’s working on, but are quite useful for a mental filing of every villager into some sort of alphabetical list of nutters. 

• There's that guy in a hoodie who's been watching him in every scene of this episode. This time he's hiding in the bushes. Now he's on the run. DCI decides to chase him into an abandoned, dilapidated building, still not having called for backup. I'm sure the guy’s harmless.

• It's an old boarded up house and the music is getting a bit hair-raising. DCI Barnaby goes in. Sorry, false alarm, nobody got murdered here.

• This new guy has intricately detailed appointments in his diary apart from this mysterious one that seems to coincide with the time of murder. I'm sure it was a legit appointment. DCI decides there's no need to check it out any further.

• DCI Barnaby returns to the crime scene at night by himself for no apparent reason. A man with no apparent reason to be there yells at him "what the hell are you doing here. You shouldn't have come back". DCI leaves the area. There was no reason to further question the crazy man, apparently. Pretty sure cops would find him a person of interest. What's the point of this scene? As an armchair crime-solving enthusiast, it's becoming increasingly difficult for me to weed out the killer/s from all the village nutters.

• By my count, 180 people have being murdered so far in this episode.

Midsomer Murders is based on the real-life village of Midsomer Norton, a cutesy township in Somerset, England, not far from Bath, which is so named because it was quite popular amongst the Romans as the place to conduct their annual cleansing of the body.

Land owners in Somerset should consider themselves lucky they didn’t call their bathing spots jacuzzis.

The writer of Midsomer Murders found Midsomer Norton on a map and thought it sounded quintessentially British and sufficiently murderous. Is Midsomer Norton really like its television twin? 

Well, the crime stats of the real village indicate a boringly average amount of crime occurring in the township, with anti-social behaviour the most prevalent type of criminal activity. 

I’m a little hazy on the actual definition of murder, but I imagine it is certainly a fairly anti-social thing to do, so it may be more similar than we think.

I actually visited Midsomer Norton in July 2014. We were travelling through Somerset, mainly to attend the lovely city of Bath, and our hotel was a couple of miles from Midsomer Norton.

By some extraordinary stroke of luck, we were not murdered or even attacked by anti-social behaviour while walking the mean cobblestones of the pretty high street to get to Sainsburys in Midsomer, but there’s always next episode.

Stayin' Alive

As Mark Twain famously uttered about growing vegetables on your balcony, "All you need in life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure". Right on, Marky Mark.

So, with Twain's guidance and tentative approval, I've seemingly decided to become a 'plant person'. Let me tell you a story. Don't worry; it is not a long story. Even if it was a lengthy anecdote that's likely more your problem that mine because this is my blog actually.

Anyway, once upon a time about five weeks ago I was gifted a strawberry plant, by someone who was clearly unaware of my past arrests, prosecutions and convictions as a violent plant murderer. 

My recidivism rate has been high over the years. I couldn't help it, it's just who I am.  It was a time of plant hardship; trees died, shrubs ravaged, flowers annihilated, the lives of young plants cut too short, perennial herb families torn apart.

While in some cases the death penalty may be a viable option for dealing with people who kill plants for a hobby, some people can change after committing murder.

The statistics are fairly low, but some people who have been found guilty of murder can be rehabilitated. With this in mind, I receipted the strawberry plant, with the hope and the promise of a new dawn, a new day, a new life, or of someone who doesn't know what's good for them.

So I left the strawberry plant at work in the sun that weekend. It didn't end well. My strawberry plant died, didn't it. Cue sad violins and all the sad emoticons to illustrate all my sad feels of that sad time.

Then, a few weeks ago, completely unprompted, the same enabler gave me a tomato plant. It was tall, it was healthy and it didn't look like it wanted to die. So much pressure. SO MUCH. This was the turning point. I could look to the past and learn from my mistakes, just like with the Titanic, Chernobyl, Costa Concordia and Tiger Woods.

This time I sought help, and was rewarded with much conflicting plant care advice. Gardening is confusing and hard.  I had a list of instructions of things to do to care for the thing that effectively amounted to 'water it and don't kill it'.

Growing vegetables comes with great responsibility. For example, you have to give it a name.  My little tomato plant is called Harry Highplants and also Harry Potted. Behold the two-named plant!

And it's going strong! I've got little tomatoes.  I've turned over a new leaf, so to speak. The damn tomatoes want it all though. 

They want sun, sun, sun but they also want shelter. They can't have everything they want. We don't always get what we want in life. They probably want to live in the garden of an ocean front mansion in Malibu, but only the rich and famous tomatoes get to do that.

Liberté conditionnelle - fancy talk for parole

Liberté conditionnelle.  It's French for parole.  Everything in the world sounds more fancy when you speak it in French with a bad French accent.  Which is strange, because the French are muchos bastards in general.  I know; I've met at least 12 of them.

Speaking of parole - such a coinkydink - I’ve always thought an efficient way for the Government to generate some extra revenue for their kitty would be through the installation of grandstand seating at police stations and charge non-criminals for the privilege of watching life’s shitheads report for parole.  I’d watch the heck out of that.

And we could clap and woop woop as criminals are led down to the gallows or whatever in their chains and be forced to watch a live feed of Big Brother for three hours and eat a plate of peanut butter-encrusted brussell sprouts.  Gross.

As if that wasn’t enough excitement for you, then there’s the uniforms. Oh wait. I’m pretty sure no-one on the earth has ever shown any interest in men in police uniform, so that’s just not relevant.

In reality, no criminal activity of any sort will happen on the day you have your tickets and you will just have to watch police officers do boring paperwork and talk over-the-counter to little old ladies. Sort of like requesting to attend swimming in the Olympics lottery and getting tickets to the diving.

They could have icecream sellers and everything. But not the ones who block your view for ages during important bits just so some moron can change their mind 18 times about whether to purchase a cornetto or that other one that is exactly the same fucking thing as a cornetto but has a different name. And then we get marzipan to throw at the prisoners. Such fun.

So I’ve recently been walking home via my local police station. There is a good reason for this. I’m not actually on parole anymore, so that’s not the reason. I have recently moved to an apartment and the copshop is on my walking route. When I walk past in the afternoon there are always losers sitting waiting to sign in for parole. I know they are on parole because they have losers on parole written all over them.

My concern is that they will be so bored stiff waiting in the backlog of deadbeats that they will notice some blonde chick walking past and decide to follow her for some sinister purpose. I'm assuming none of them are murderers but you just never know; especially if you live in Victoria.

Elizabeth II

No, this blog post isn't about me.  How pretentious do you think I am?  I thought I knew you...

Now, everyone needs to pipe down and just be resigned to the fact that I am going to do another post about HM the Queen Elizabeth II, because today is the 60th anniversary since she acceded to the top British regal gig after her beloved father, King George VI, died when she was just 25.  And she's still kicking butt with a tiara firmly ensconsed up on her head after all these years.

The poor bastards who read any of my rambling queeny posts last year would appreciate my adoration of her Maj, and I would prefer anyone else to quit judging me with your beady little Republican eyes.  Why y'all hatin' on the royals?  Monarchists have feelings too, you know.

You may get sick of hearing about my unrequited regal love, but one would prefer to pour molten lava into one's ears than listen to the blithering of Republicans and their anti-royal whinging and whining.  Try not to think about my love of all things royal too much or you may find yourself on YouTube screaming something incoherent at a town hall meeting.

And no, I don't have to explain to you why I love the royals; that's the beauty of being the doyen of your own blog.  In fact, my question to you is 'why can't you be more like the royals, and less like yourself?'  Ah, just jokes.  We're all friends here.  Apart from any serial killers who might read my posts.  I'm sorry jail-bound readers, but we are not even remotely friends, but I'm sure someone out there will be your pen(itentiary) pal. 

Did you know that there are 233 prisons in Australia?  And god knows how many there are in America.  That's a lot of bad people with access to broadband.  That's what you get when you murder people; free food, free accommodation, free gym and free internet access for life.

Sometimes I notice on my blog stats that there is a spike of people in North America who read particular posts on my blog, and after I wonder why they read such nonsense I wonder how they interpret my writing, because, no offence* American cyberbot friends, but sometimes I query your understanding of irony and sarcasm, which is generally my preferred method of communicating with the world. 

If you are ever in any doubt, you can take 50% of pretty much everything I write on here with a grain of salt.  Unfortunately you'll have to work out for yourself which 50% is which, which isn't very helpful, given that when you may think I'm being silly I'm often being quite sincere, and vice versa.  The blogosphere can be a cruel mistress, but my blog is usually a load of hokum so don't get your knickers in a knot. 

Oh darn it, I forgot to blog about HM the Queen because I was prattling on about myself.  No matter; she knows how awesome she is...

* Sorry, I momentarily became one of those people who says 'no offence' as though it magically made my ensuing comments non-offensive.  Sorry.  No offence.

Grounded tigers, axed newspapers, rocket ships for sale

Please put up your hand if you have any actual certified training to fly an aeroplane. Games arcades do not count as credible training programs. Neither does any previous experience working for Tiger Airways.

Poor Tiger was clipped over the wings last week by the Civil Aviation Safety Authority (CASA), the body that oversees all things that fly in a civil fashion in Australian skies (except birds obviously), when CASA demanded DEMANDED! that Tiger ground all their planes.

CASA were a little miffed when they discovered that Tiger pilots do not really know how to fly planes properly. Which is actually kind of funny. Honestly, how can any airline possibly live up to CASAs safety standards?  That Flight Centre pilot is probably shaking in his boots because I don't think he even has a cardboard licence.

I wonder if the pilot of that French airliner that spun the other midget plane at JFK airport in New York earlier this year has ever worked for Tiger. Actually, it is just so typical of the French to barge through oncoming traffic and smack right into another plane that just happens to be sitting in their way. Didn’t even stop to exchange insurance information, which the pilot would have probably just pulled out of a ham and cheese baguette in lieu of a cereal packet.

Speaking of people who cannot do their jobs in a manner that is not, you know, legal in the eyes of the law...

The staff left standing at the News of the World who were not involved in the phone hacks of the world scandal are complaining that their employer's key headline-chasing workplace guideline, that being tampering and sticking one's nose into the personal phone records of people in the news, has made them lose all credibility.

Well, I’m not sure they BEGAN with any credibility; such was their choice to work for a newspaper that contains page three girls, and thinks important breaking news is covering the sex romps of English footballers. Perhaps these journalists (italicised for the purposes of sarcasm) could have fixed their credibility issue by working for a CREDIBLE newspaper.  Actually, probably not.  Maybe if they left the media industry altogether things would perk up for them.

Speaking of things being grounded and axed, NASAs Atlantis shuttle took off this week for the U.S. space program's final flight, after the Obama Messiah thought it a good idea to wrap-up one of the few good things to have come out of the United States.

All those young kids (who aren’t stoned) who stare at the night sky for hours, with dreams of being an astronaut, will just have to get a boring government job like the rest of us. Alternatively, they could get a gig at Tiger Airways.

Watching the take-off yesterday, it occurred to me that I didn’t know how space shuttles come back down to earth.  Well I imagined they didn't just hit the brakes at that speed because they’d likely burn up into oblivion on re-entry. So I ventured out into the great outer space of Wikipedia to suss it out:

The vehicle re-enters the atmosphere by firing the Orbital maneuvering system engines, while flying upside down, backside first, in the opposite direction to orbital motion for approximately three minutes, which reduces the shuttle's velocity by about 200 mph (322 km/h)... the shuttle then flips over, by pushing its nose down (which is actually "up" relative to the Earth, because it is flying upside down).

The vehicle then performs a series of four steep S-shaped banking turns, each lasting several minutes... in this way it dissipates speed sideways rather than upwards. This occurs during the 'hottest' phase of re-entry, when the heat-shield glows red and the G-forces are at their highest. By the end of the last turn, the transition to aircraft is almost complete. The vehicle levels its wings, lowers its nose into a shallow dive and begins its approach to the landing site.

That is friggin’ mad!  But I bet they can't parallel park.

Canberra jail is a great escape

I’ve always had this loopy idea that the Alexander Maconachie Centre (AMC), Canberra's favourite holiday destination for the seasoned criminal fraternity was, you know, more or less secure. More secure than less would be the ideal amount of secure, I am fairly certain.

Alas, last week the computer mainframes that control security infrastructure at Canberra's premier and only ClubMed correctional resort crashed, causing surveillance cameras, door locks, retina scanning devices and ankle and neck tags to fail. Epic electrological failure. Prison guards were forced to do perimeter checks and manually lock and unlock doors the old fashion way, like getting up off their arses to check perimeters and lock and unlock doors. 

Pretty flowers and white picket fences - domestic-style bliss.

 

The whole idea that prisons are controlled by computers makes me a little nervous.  Is it just me, or did anyone else think that prisoners were locked in cells behind big, dirty, iron doors with prison slats? When did this type of dainty prison infrastructure go out of favour? For AMC, which prides itself on being a 'human rights compliant prison', it's because they don't want prisoner's feelings getting hurt being surrounded by iron bars all the time which makes them feel like... criminals.  

I don't know. I kinda feel that people in jail are supposed to feel like they've monumentally screwed up, so it makes sense that they should suffer some sort of indignity, like occasionally being tossed delicately  into a stinking jail cell without a smart TV.  That's how being a criminal works I'm pretty sure. What better disincentive to not break the law than having no Foxtel?  I can't think of any. 

Let's see what the AMC has in the way of deterrents.  Well about half of the accommodation is in five bedroom domestic-style cottages designed around a central Town Square.  So it 's basically like living in the Cotswolds with staff dressed like Mr Plod.  These cottages are apparently designed to facilitate normalisation; to enable prisoners to develop and practice living skills. 

Well, given the nature of their circumstance, it seems the last time these cons practiced living skills they failed miserably; and I do believe their idea of normal may greatly conflict with mine. But normalisation is the key, so it's a good thing they have a friggin' TOWN SQUARE, because one never knows when one may feel inclined to start a civic riot, pee on a commemorative monument or pilfer from the local delicatessen. Or put another way, put their normal living skills into practice.

The designers also thoughtfully installed Environmentally Sustainable Development initiatives, due to criminals renowned concern over water storage, grey water recycling and solar hot water systems.  Going to prison used to suck; these days it's just a sabbatical in a holiday resort.

Personal Responsibility. Take some

So, I hear it's National Cyber Security Awareness Week, where the Federal Government pretends to have a clue about cybersecurity risk and who the hell they are trying to target as predators.  I'm sure the eCriminals are shaking in their boots. 

The Government are offering terrific tips too, like stop sending your banking passwords or personal information to strangers.  Seriously, those people probably deserve to have their identity stolen and sold for a cheap pack of cigarettes in Eastern Europe. 

Speaking of upseting the iApplecart, the new iPhone technology sure is crim friendly.  Gone are the days when burglars or stalkers had to go to extremes to seek out their target; rifling through their garbage, peeping through their curtains in the middle of the night, and following them around a Coles supermarket before creating a chance meeting with their prey in the frozen food aisle and coincidently having identical items in their basket.  Oh-my-god, we are soul mates!  

I imagine this is how the pre-iPhone stalker worked.  One has to admire the devotion that stalkers put into their art back in the day, assuming a commitment and dedication to their subject that lifecoaches and personal trainers could only dream of. 

I think I'm far too apathetic about life in general to get that interested in anything.  Last year it took me a couple of months to get excited about planning an overseas holiday, like it was some sort of university essay I just didn't want to begin.

I've started to notice on my Facebook news feed that people are advising me where they are and who they're with, generally from they time the awake until ... well, it doesn't stop really.  This relatively new stalker-burglar friendly application is courtesy of Apple technologies.  Thanks a bunch, Apple.

When it comes to technology, I think I reside somewhere in the 1990s.  I still use a Video Cassette Recorder on occasions, and will continue to do so until it decides to stop working.  So with this track record, I will probably purchase an iPhone or its equivalent sometime in August 2020.  But I sure as shit won't be telling anyone where I am and what time I'm there.        

It all seems fairly harmless I suppose, but where does it sit legally when the technology is inevitably abused?  As it already has been.  You can probably put my reluctance to engage with these types of applications down to paranoia, but how many of your Facebook friends meet the following description?  Attractive, above average IQ, generally well liked, performed well in school, bullied as a child, fairly shy, often socially awkward, had their heart broken, signs of depression? 

Yeah, well that pretty much sums up Ted Bundy too; a sadistic sociopath, as it turns out, who murdered more than 30 young women in the United States in the 1970s.  Now it's highly unlikely there is a serial killer on your friends list, given they are extremely rare and there are only about 100 active ones working in the United States at the moment.  Wait a minute; 100 is quite a lot, right?  So my question is this - why do people make it so easy for people who wish to do them harm?

We all have to take a bit of bloody responsibility for our own safety and welfare, but some people think that's just too much trouble on their part.  Take the dubiously named Slutwalk in Toronto, Canada, which took place this weekend.  As far as I can tell, the march involves women dressing up in slutty clothes to march in protest against a statement that was given by a Toronto Police representative in January this year, saying “women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized”. 

Sounds like a timely message from the authorities to me.  So why are these women trying to make a big statement to the rest of society that they should be able to wear anything they want and still stay safe on the streets? 

Well, this is just one of those issues that feminists like to hijack, by labelling any call for them to engage in a bit of common sense as victimisation.  The protesters seem to be angry at the police and the court system and society in general, but we really shouldn't be the target market for their protest - they are preaching to the converted. 

Yes, we all agree, women should be able to walk down the street in a bikini without being harassed, but that's not friggin' realistic, is it?  Rapists don't care for human rights or sexual harassment claims or feminism or your feelings.  I imagine they wouldn't be raping women if they did. 

Rape is a problem in society, but it's not society's fault, in that it's not caused by class or marginalisation.  Despite their issues or background, all rapists have a choice about their own behaviour and they choose to rape.  And if you're wearing a short skirt, they will likely choose you over someone who is not in a short skirt.  Yes it's wrong that they target you, but it's REALITY.  Good luck trying to make them more sensitive to your rights as a woman.

The argument that we all should take some responsiblity for our actions, and use a bit of common sense, is not saying we're asking for it if we neglect to take personal responsiblity.  Far from it.  But considering what law enforcement agencies, the legal system and forensic psychiatrists know about rapists, the Slutwalk approach seems nonsensical, irresponsible and downright dangerous. 

The whole idea pushed by feminists that police are appealing to women for any reason other than their welfare is so ridiculous, but I would expect nothing less from feminists, who seem to care more about progressing the feminist movement than womens safety.

Taking a bit of responsibility by not wearing a slutty short skirt down a dark alley in a dodgy area of town is a smart, necessary message, and should not be used as an avenue for feminists to get on their soapbox and bang-on about women's right. 

Rapists don't care about women's rights, so giving young girls the message that they should be able to dress like this and shirk all personal responsibility defies logic.  Common sense is the key; dressing up as a hooker to make a point is counterproductive and just bizarre.

McBogans

Ah, Today Tonight. What would we do without you? We’d probably get along just fine, and be a far less litigious society, and have far less cashed-up bogans, and no-one would notice you were gone.   Anyway, TT ran a story tonight on parents who take their children on family shopping adventures. What? So why is that TT-worthy? 

Well, aside from the fact that TT is completely ridiculous at the best of times, this story was about a type of shopping adventure that you engage in without any exchange of cash taking place. No, no credit cards either. Don’t need credit cards. It’s more of a five-fingered discount type of family outing. For arguments sake, let’s call it bogan shopping. Because bogans think shopping the traditional, old-fashioned way of trading cash for goods kinda McSucks.

But who can blame the bogans.  When the parole officer told Tracee-Lee that she should spend more quality time with her offspring, Chardonaay-Jaiymee, she probably meant do something that wasn't illegal.  But how can Tracee-Lee have possibly be expected to know that?  Those parole officers really need to be more SPECIFIC. “Quality time with your family” for convicted criminals means taking your offspring with you when you steal a three-pack of skivvies from Best and Less / hold up an IGA.

And then the journalist (that's italicised for the purpose of sarcasm), spoke to the security manager of one electronics outlet. Surely, if they have footage of a bogan lady walking out with a blue ray DVD player and surround sound system they should have caught her. How do these people get the guts to walk out with a pile of hot goods anyway? That’s confidence.

And what were the security personnel doing when the stock was walking out the door in the hands of bogan trash? Probably eating one of McDonald’s new Pounder burgers.  Rather than securing things, they were probably stuffing their faces with 50,000 calories of fluorescent cheese and a curious meat-looking product on a sesame seed bun-looking product.  Maximum taste, minimum wage. Sheesh, it's like putting Hamburglar in charge of the security department.

I really hate segways on commercial television. Why do they have to announce that they have just made a fabulous segway into the next story? It was stupid even before they decided to point it out.  Anywho, speaking of McDonalds...

TT also reported that McDonalds are denying they have a burger called the Pounder, even though they do in fact have a new burger called the Pounder.  Instead of dealing with the fallout of having a burger on your menu with a calorie count that would feed a third world country, and further bloat the waistlines of people who seem incapable of driving anywhere expect fast food outlets, the McDonald’s PR simply denied its existence.

Despite the fact the TT man (I can’t bring myself to call him a journalist again) had just gone into McDonalds and bought a Pounder.  Genius damage control. I like it. I stand behind it. Bill Clinton also famously got away with it with the skanky McIntern using this little tactic.  Well, got away with it in the sense that most lefties still think the sun shines out of his McArse.

Convicted criminals and budding jailbirds

This week the Commonwealth Bank stuffed up majorly, when “routine maintenance” miraculously caused various ATMs to spew out money to people who had no money in their bank accounts. The media and consumer groups are whinging and whining about how the Commonwealth Bank are trying to deflect attention onto the "decent people" who took the money. These groups believe that people commit crimes because they are angry at the system, and that if we could just convince them that the system is fair by not putting them in prison, no one would ever commit crime again.

Sure, the Commonwealth Bank ATMs were disrupted for some ridiculous reason, allowing idiots to take out random amounts of money that did not belong to them. But another key issue here is that society is so screwed up that people turn into criminals at the first opportunity. And this isn’t society’s fault; this is a problem at the individual level. At the level of people who think what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is negotiable.

If you think this is society’s fault, then you need to wake up and take some responsibility for your own actions, with includes the consequences that come with stealing money. It doesn’t matter who you are stealing from, or the circumstances that surround the act of stealing; you are a criminal and you should be punished within the law.

Speaking of convicts, felons and other assorted criminals, Channel Seven’s new reality show, Conviction Kitchen, pits a bunch of convicted felons against each other in a cooking competition. Or something of that nature. I haven’t watched it and don't plan to.  I don't give a rats if they can cook cordon bleu, I just don't want them to break any more laws and screw up society any more than they already have. The show is just another of the network’s idiotic programming decisions, and claims to give criminals a second chance. But I take their tearful remorsefulness with a giant silo of salt.

Prison. Naturally I think of LiLo


 “Would you give me a chance?”, says one Conviction Kitchen contestant on one of the network's ads. No, I will not give you a chance.  You have had your chance to play by society’s rules and you blew it. When you break the law, you go to jail. That’s how it works.  And you also gave up certain democratic rights and freedoms that are afforded to law-abiding citizens.

For example, you forgo the right to freedom, and you forgo the right to be given a second chance, because I just don’t trust you and don’t think I should have to.  These people convicted of petty crimes are stigmatised because they have broken our trust, and a stupid cooking show isn't going to fix that.  Why are law-abiding citizens always pressured to place their trust in people who have already screwed them (society) over?

Let’s be honest (a virtuous attribute that escaped our kitchen help convict).  She went to prison because she got caught; she didn't turn herself in.  The legal mumbo-jumbo for this is premeditated.  People who turn themselves in - I might consider giving a second chance, depending on the crime. But she got caught, and there’s no point whinging about how remorseful you are when are caught stealing with your hand in your employer's money jar in what the law likes to call fraud.

Random Breathe Testing

There is a special niche group of people in Australia who are more than happy to go on national television after being sprung for drink / drug-induced / low intelligence driving. For argument’s sake, I shall refer to these folk as idiots.

‘RBT’, that is random breath testing, is a reality television show on Channel Nine. It’s about making fun of stupid people, right? I hope so, because I sure as heck am doing just that. It almost feels cruel. Alas, if you agree to be one of the stars of ‘RBT’, then you fully deserve any ridicule that comes your way. It’s one of life’s great tragedies that these morons think it’s fun to have their 30 minutes (minus commercials) of fame on this reality show.

In the episode I caught tonight on my new favourite bogan entertainment channel the police caught up with Rhiannon, who was driving 'one of the dodgiest cars police have ever seen'. Rhiannon was actually driving a car that was illegally borrowed from the wreckers.  As you do. Sheesh, if you have the skills Rhiannon, head for your local BMW dealership. The world is your cheeseburger, so think big girlfriend.

Rhiannon’s sweet ride contained cannabis and methamphetamines and “drug equipment”, but apparently Rhiannon knew nothing about of any of this. I couldn’t lie convincingly to a horse, let alone a mob of police officers and a Channel Nine camera crew. Perhaps I am underestimating these people.

Maybe these idiots are actually destined for the bright lights of Home and Away. Rhiannon finally admitted that she had taken some marijuana that morning. Good call Rhiannon; the best thing to do before driving across Australia is to spend the morning smoking weed.

Ed, who after 22 or so schooners, argued with a poker-faced policeman.  Note to Ed: it’s probably best to shut up if you are too pissed to tell if the cop is saying your 'life' or your 'licence' is in jeopardy. Brain-dead Ed pulled out the old “I lose my licence, I lose my job” nugget a couple of times.  Damn it, it's almost like actions have consequences or something.

I have zero tolerance for drink drivers, and they should get everything the law can throw at them.  I just wish the NSW Police Commissioner would give the forces some power to throw these idiots into prison.  But then they'd probably create a show following them through the justice system.

Violent school bullies

I am of a generation that didn’t know or see or understand violence until I was in my early teens. I didn’t watch much television, mum and dad got along, we didn’t have computer games, and we played and fought with our friends face to face rather than bully each other through a machine.  I played inside, then I got kicked out of the house to play in the backyard.  I was fortunate to have a carefree childhood, being a child; growing up at just the right pace.

When I was in high school, I remember watching an after school fight, for the simple reason that it was on my way to the bus stop. What I saw sickened me, and I was relieved when my PE teacher turned up and dragged the two protesting morons off to the principal’s office to, presumably, give them a kick up the backside. And I can ensure you that not one kid left standing in that dirt car park was anything but completely terrified of our furious teacher. And no-one considered suing the school or putting the episode on You Tube. How quickly things change.

The stories I hear through personal accounts and through the media of school bullying these days breaks my heart and makes me angry. It’s easy to place the blame solely with the parents for the behaviour of these borderline sociopaths, but helicopter parents are only part of the problem.

I big part of the issue with school kids these days is that education unions don’t let teachers use discipline in the classroom.  I’m not talking about corporal punishment; I’m talking about telling them to be quiet.  Teachers can get a rap over their knuckles in some schools for asking their students to be quiet and listen!  The geniuses in charge think teaching young people how to behave in a socially acceptable way is politically incorrect; they should just be allowed to be themselves.  Unfortunately, the consequences of this idiocy means the good kids have to suffer, the teachers have to suffer, and the rest of society has to suffer when these thugs leave school.  

I don’t know anyone from my generation who is worse off from having being disciplined when they were young.  Smacking is distinct from child abuse, and any parent who doesn't know that can take quite a bit of the credit for their kid's anti-social behaviour.  Every teenager in history has rebelled against their parents; the kids in the fifties did it through the quaint use of rock and roll.  For the most part, kids need to be moulded into decent human beings, and that requires some discipline from those who have been through it before and have come out the other end.

The progressive movement has ruined education and childhood. Their idea that non-punitive discipline leads to healthy, balanced children is plain wrong. Lack of any discipline is too permissive and leads to unruly children. The evidence can be found running around terrorising other kids and teachers in every public school playground in Australia.  

And helicopter parents, who don't let their kids learn from their own mistakes, are part of the problem; because these kids never have a chance to learn that their actions have consequences until they are arrested on a charge of assault and battery that may ruin their lives.   While many of these kids should to be placed in remand centres (a place to store young criminals before they graduate to adult prisons), a lack of any common sense in the criminal justice system means the judge will likely let the kid off, and then he's our problem.