My birthday must have been effective because I feel older.
Friends up from Geelong and over from Glebe Point Road. Cooking and shopping and drinking and loving. It was a wonderful weekend. I lost at cards. Sometimes to a 12 year old. She’s a very smart 12 year old. Smarter than me, for example.
And now we’ve had the budget.
I can scarcely believe the vindictive nature of this government. Any science that might creep into the national discussion is being concussed with cuts. We have no science Minister so there was no-one to protest to Neanderthal Taxing Tony when he cut CSIRO, cut ARENA, curfewed the sun, denied the sea, declared fossils fake, and generally protected himself from suggestions that the world might be round after all. And getting warmer.
What a bitter wanker.
Lord have mercy. Save our souls and save the planet. We beseech you. Not that you exist.
But then neither does a Minister for Science.
It was an incidental pleasure to watch smokin’ Joe Fatso on 7.30 last night being done over by Sarah Ferguson. It was the only interview where smokin’ Joe was not able to open his blather valve and release the usual hot air and gas that inflates him. He was sweaty and defeated and unaccountable. It was a triumph of public broadcasting and will no doubt be punished by ABC cuts on top of the one percent ‘down payment’ and Foxtelling of Australia Network.
‘No cuts to the ABC or SBS’ . Or health. Or education. Or empty stadiums.
They are such a sad government. They probably feel it, lying under their loveless sheets at night, numb and unsure. I hope so.
Something is happening but you don’t know what it is, do you Mr Bones.