Let’s Not Get Real Then

Reality is such a bastard. You get off your little sail boat to find that the share market has tanked like a kamakazi fighter plane and you can’t even pretend to be worried because you have never owned any shares. Unfortunately your job is still there waiting for you so you can’t pretend to be young and disaffected so that you can go on a brick and Molotov cocktail spending spree round the neighbourhood either. The news tells you that Libya and London are burning and you wonder how this happened in 3 weeks and what Libyan or London youth have in common apart from one being very heavily armed and fairly keen on setting fire to posters of Gadafi. Why would you bother to keep stuff around that you only intend to burn? Would London youth even recognise a poster of Cameron? You note that there are not many Libyans setting fire to stuff in order to get some brand name shoes.

In the same time a head of broccoli took the same trajectory (but in reverse) as the kamakazi pilot and hit a new high of about 4 bucks a head making it slightly more expensive than either gold or rhinoceros horns. You hear on the unofficial jungle drums that there will be unrest on the streets of Northland because there is no weed to be had because all astute dealers are saving it for the world cup. Nice to know that Northland is not a basket case abandoned by all political interest or leadership and is in fact a kohanga (nest) of entrepreneurial genius. You alight from the little bubble that is a sailboat to discover the Aussies complaining about having our apples over there. They’ve managed to keep them out since early colonisation and their banana growers are madly screaming “Yes! We have no bananas!" after Cylcone Yasi, which means the three that they raided from their Aunty’s garden will now cost you about $15 a kilo. Really. They’ve managed to deflect not only our apples but Ecuador’s banana imports as well in order to protect their growers. What have they got that we don’t? Why don’t we look after our own tomato growers who would need to sell their product at about $15 a kilo on the fringes of the season to make any money when our happy isles are awash with cheap Aussie imports? When does a free market just become a dumb one?

Alighting from the alien craft you wonder why everyone still cares what Standard and Poors has to say about anything at all. What does it matter if the States is no longer a triple A rated country when the really interesting thing is that the President gets a ‘please explain and see me in my office’ note from China? And he went.

Could the image of the United States as a symbol of everything wrong with rampant capitalism be any more tarnished than it already is? Why yes. Obama could always get Saatchi and Saatchi to do an ad campaign for him. As living proof that Telecom CEO and corporate honchos in general as well as advertising people also live on alien craft that hover slightly over the surface of earth without ever alighting: we have the Abstain for the Games idea.



I applaud the effort to improve the gene pool in New Zealand but what I really love is Sean Fitzpatrick driving round in a creepy pink hand.

Bizarre, slightly porno and yet so KRoad on a Friday night.

This is what happens when rugby goes corporate. The world is mad. STAY ON YOUR BOATS.

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