Death and shit

It fascinates me the way people are lauded in death. The furore over the Chaser's song the year before last about all the dead celebs was a great example. Is it because we're confronted by our own mortality in a world obsessed by 24/7 media coverage and celebrity? Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Jade Goody, the young British woman who tragically died from cervical cancer on the weekend. In anyone's language, it's a tragedy. She was only 27 and she had two young sons. The unusual thing about it is that her death was reported by the BBC World service as an actual news item. You may well ask why, I certainly did. Apparently her death was newsworthy because she was on Big Brother in the UK where she thought the region of England called East Anglia (or East Angular as she pronounced it) was in another country. Her fame grew for the wrong reasons when she was on Celebrity Big Brother and made racist remarks to one of her housemates.
Why oh why are people captivated by this? The grotesque thing, which is probably fitting really, considering she lived by reality TV, she also died by it, with her final days managed by PR "guru" Max Clifford. She said she did this to ensure her children were provided for. But what is that going to do to them when they grow up, and even now? Not only do they have to deal with their mother's untimely death, but what is normally an intensely private situation has been played out in the full glare of the media. People have compared it with the death of Princess Diana. And it's true. There was misplaced, mass hysteria then, and now too.
And if people in the public dare call it for what it is, they're lambasted. Noel Gallagher of all people actually put it the best I have seen:
"I mean, I've got fuck all against Jade Goody, that's nothing to do with me," Gallagher continued. "But it bends my head. That, to me, sums up, in one tiny five-minute thing on the news, what an embarrassing place Britain is right now. You might as well shut Number 10 Downing Street down and get Max Clifford to run the country"

Fuckby League

Sorry about that last post. It was a bit vociferous and self indulgent. Oh hang on, that's what blogs are for isn't it?
I've had a shitty 24 hours, so you'll have to excuse me once again because it seems I have at least one leg in my cranky pants today. A lack of sleep and chasing small, screaming children has a way of doing that to a body. Luckily I have a lot of good TV series on DVD that keep me just enough in a fantasy world to make all this a little more bearable.
It's such a middle class whinge, isn't it? As soon as I typed all these complaints I thought of all the other people in the world doing it so much tougher than me. And that would be most of them, really. As if I have anything to complain about.
Today, I'd like to rant about the abhorrent way in which the Manly Rugby League club went about its tawdry little smear campaign to try and discredit the alleged victim in the sexual assault case against Brett Stewart. Media Watch did some great coverage of it. You can see it here on their website.
I can believe the club would do this because they seem to operate in a boozy misogynistic bubble (actually, I do worry it's more wide spread than that), what I can't believe is that it made it to air on Channel 9. Surely there was someone in the newsroom who voiced concerns over running "news" which wasn't actually new, and which has no relevance to the case at hand. Trying to discredit the victim in this situation is what the defence counsel always does and even they have been asked not to do this kind of thing in court, but we all know TV journalists are above the law (hello Ben Fordham). Watching Peter Overton reading the story I thought to myself "you have a daughter, how would you feel if she was in this situation and someone tried to use something you'd done to discredit her claims of assault". It's just appalling.
What I wonder is if it's just isolated left wing housewives like me who think this kind of shit is wrong, or can most people see it for what it is? I hope so.

What kind of fuckery is this?

I have been trying to be a better person. I suppose that was precipitated by being pregnant with my son, and learning a little bit about Buddhism. I guess I am still on a bit of a personal quest to have right thoughts and actions. So you'll forgive me this lapse. I'm tired and the kids are driving me a bit nuts. I am not the Dalai Lama, you know.
Since I started writing this blog, I realised I have a public (well, sort of public, given that I only have one follower - hi SJ) forum where I can tell the people who've fucked me over to, well, fuck off with cherries on top.
So, here goes (I might only get on to one at at time, but I might get on a roll of hating, so you never know):
The person really getting my goat is a former friend from uni. The thing that annoys me most is that I was too gutless at the time to just tell her to fuck off then. I'd like to tell her to fuck off now too, but somehow, I don't feel I will be building my pagodas to nirvana by doing that. Plus I will look petty and spastic and everyone will see me for the insecure nutjob I am.
She used to tell a mutual friend that she was anal for washing her bed sheets regularly. I should have said then that it's just disgusting to be an ugly fat moll who has such a sense of entitlement that she can pass judgement on others and tell them how to live their life. (I'm pretty sure she's still fat, so that's something).
Once she told me not to be uptight about using my stereo for a party because I was worried it would get broken. She said "it won't get hurt" in the most patronising tone, and guess what, it got broken. I guess when mummy and daddy sort everything out for you, you probably don't need to worry about such trivia.
Another time I wrote and told her how badly I was suffering from depression, because I thought I could rely on her to help me at least by listening. She never even called.
She also felt it necessary to get on her high moral horse and cast the first stone to save the finer feelings of someone she cared little about knowing full well she would end our friendship.
I don't know what pisses me off more about it; her treachery or the fact that my friendship didn't mean anything to her at all and I got played.
It was more than 10 years ago and I'm still haven't really reconciled it with myself. Why do I hang onto so much anger about it?
Not a very good Buddhist. Ohm.

Feminism: 2009 style? I bloody well hope not.

I was walking my dog today and I heard on the radio a song by Mahalia (daughter of Jimmy) Barnes. The song was called How Strong is a Woman, with the following lyric:

"I had a mind to join the women's liberation/ that was before I had the touch of love's sweet sensation."
Now if it takes all my strength to make my man feel tall/ Then I'd rather be weak in love than have no love at all."

Hey, awesome way to pay tribute to all the sisters who helped you take for granted that you're a young independent woman with your own career, Mahalia.

So, by rights, being married and having two children, I probably should have given my husband my drivers licence and the bank details and just be lying on the floor so people can wipe their feet on me in the manner of a door mat in order to make sure my husband doesn't feel I'm getting too jolly big for my boots.

I can't believe a young woman in 2009 would admit to thinking such a thing, much less writing it down. God, what's going on?

If you expect equal rights for men and women (and I suspect Mahalia wouldn't like to have her right to vote taken away on account of her sex, or her drivers licence, or her right to work) then you are a feminist. Why are women scared of calling themselves a feminist when that's really what most of us are? Feminism and a fulfilling relationship with a man are not mutually exclusive.

Fucktards who judge others and say stupid stuff generally

OK, I don't like writing all in capitals, it really goes against the sub editor in me, but THIS MADE ME REALLY ANGRY.

(Actually, it also makes me angry that the SMH covered this. Why give this retard oxygen?)

This guy tried to blame the fires on the decriminalisation of abortion in Victoria.

This is so all sorts of wrong, I just don't know where to begin.

A general theme and hatred of mine is the speed with which people judge others and decide their own world view is the one everyone else should live by.

What I'd love is for people like this mentalist to see that his house is in order in terms of his actions on his values and ethics. Does he help people in need like the amazing work of the Salvation Army in counselling prisoners convicted of the most heinous crimes? Does he feed the homeless and all comers without judgment and moral high handedness? How about trying to be an actual Christian, it would really help.

I don't know anyone who has gone through the horrendous experience of an abortion without doing the most serious soul searching just about anyone can do and being permantly affected by the experience - myself included.

No-one has an abortion without a heavy heart and a lot of misgivings. How dare someone impose their religious beliefs on anyone who makes this decision. How can someone else decide this is right or wrong for this person? Interesting too how often men are outspoken on the issue.

There are very few things (well, actually, it's a growing list as I get older and crankier) which make me as furious as the mealy mouthed protestors outside abortion clinics. I often wonder if these people with their little foetus dolls have a clear conscience about all of the decisions and choices they have made in their lives?

If you're passionately against abortion, then let your intellect and passion make a sound argument against it. And by all means, don't have one.

But how about you stop wasting your time by terrorising people in what is their darkest hours and abide by a real Christian moral code. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, anyone? That's John 8:7 by the way, Pastor Danny Nalliah, are you familiar with it?

I don't know why I am surprised by this, and I don't even know if I should be disappointed by it. But why is Barack Obama judged on what he does and his wife is judged on what she wears? This story in the New York Times is being cute and using political language to describe the "bi-partisan" support she received for her sartorial choices during her husband's inauguration.
The same happened for Therese Rein when Kevin Rudd was elected Prime Minister here. Therese (and I love, love, love you for keeping your name) copped a drubbing for fashion choices. Never mind that she is in her own right a very successful business woman (who earns much more than her husband) and is an accomplished person and mother. The only thing people seem to care to have an opinion about is if she's chosen the right colour.
There's nothing wrong with enjoying fashion and getting gussied up, but do people need to take it so seriously.
I would so love someone (and another first lady fashion plate who probably has the chutzpah to do it is Carla Bruni-Sarkozy) to turn up to one of these official engagements in a potato sack. Now that would be something to talk about.

To love, honour and lose your identity

For Christmas, we received several Christmas cards addressed to Mr & Mrs My Husband's Surname. Only trouble is, they're his parents, not us, because I didn't change my name when we got married.
For me, in my career which I had been cultivating as me for more than 10 years, I felt it made no sense to change my name. Not to mention the fact that I feel very strongly that getting married is a partnership, not a melding of one individual into another.
When I mooted the idea with my husband (a long time before we even got to the idea of marriage), he was vaguely offended by it (despite his protestations). He's a modern guy, not a sexist bone in his body and yet this idea was confronting to him. I suggested he change his name to mine, which he found down right preposterous and I said to him "now you know how I feel!".
Obviously I got my way or we would have remained unmarried, I can assure you.
It felt to me natural that in the wake of the third wave of feminism I, and probably most of my peers, would keep their names if and when we tied the knot.
So imagine my surprise when I have found myself in a minority of married friends who have kept their names.
Why have they changed their names, I wonder. I try not to judge, but I can't help but feel it's a really dumb thing to do. My friends who have changed their names are smart, independent, career orientated, educated women. So why do they feel as though their identity isn't as important as their husbands'?
I know they probably don't think about it in those terms, but it is something that really puzzles me and I find quite anti feminist.
I've got a lot more to write about this subject, but I have to go and be a modern housewife now, so I will pick up this thread later.