holley 750 (*)

This is post 750. How on earth did we get here?

Well - not that you were interested but hey, you have to go through some dross before we get to the music - most if it was due to John Howard.

No, really. Not so much to do with ideology, because there was barely a bee's dick between the espoused philosophies of the major parties, nor to do with any notion of party loyalty. It was because he was such a flagrantly reactionary little prick with a substantial streak of petty schoolyard vindictiveness. Plus, the sound of his voice made me want to strangle anything within reach.

Mind you, Kev's no better. His endless lecturing is delivered in such a pedagogical, artificial briefing style he's starting to rival Howard's whiny hectoring.

We want our leaders to be human, they respond by retreating into the media playbook. I don't think I've ever heard Rudd actually, directly answer any question he's been asked.

If I want fiction, I'll watch Law and Order or whatever.

I see on the news tonight that the Rugby League PR machine has swung into action with a vengeance. That group of meek and mild social reformers, the Brisbane Broncos, are supporting the Epilepsy Foundation through tonight's game. What a bunch of wets. And of course they are representative of all the league teams. "Rape? She was gagging for it, Your Honour. I'd never harm a woman, why, my mother is one."

We're going to get wall-to-wall propaganda for months, waddaya reckon?

Tonight's ritual whinge about the Americanisation of our language. This week I have heard Aussies whom I know well, whose pronuncation is at all other times straight Aussie, say the following:

"...well, on this rowt..."

"it's gen-you-wine..."

We're fucking doomed I tell you, doomed.

Anyway, enough of the trials and tribulations of our dreary circadian existence. What we need is music, preferably lots of it and loud. Here's a tribute page. Heh heh.

So, while we're in the mood...no, not Glenn Miller, it's Paul Rodgers and Bad Co. Oh and do they have all the moves...and the trousers...

Avagoodweegend.

(*) Fuck me roan. A song about a carburettor. "Let the gas air mixture flow." You can't argue with that can you, where the hell would you start? Makes "four speed, dual quad, Positraction 409" seem absolutely normal.