January 10, 2008
Who else has realised that, every four years, the election for the next President of the United States is held on the same day as the Melbourne Cup? There are more similarities between these two events than would at first be apparent.
In 2008, the appointed day is Tuesday 4 November. Yep, on the first Tuesday in November, most Australians care only for a long lunch and not working while they spend a few dollars on a Cup sweep or at the TAB. On the first Tuesday in November 2008, most Americans only care about going about their daily lives while a small number head off to vote for the most powerful position in their country and arguably, the world.
Both events are characterised by a large field of competitors, some of whom at least will have funny, unusual or unpronouncable names. Do you prefer Huckabee or Makybe Diva? If you take a vox populi anywhere in the country in the days leading up to each event, almost everyone will know that the event is on; nearly the same number will have an opinion on who will win; but 95% will not know, will get wrong or will mispronounce the name of the candidate they passionately believe will win - or should win. If nothing else Americans and Australians are huge emotional backers of their preferred candidates. This one or that one should win because they show a lot of heart; have captured the imagination; are sure to come from behind; have come from rags to riches; have pulled themselves up by their bootstraps; or are god fearing - yep, even horses - or at least their jockeys/owners/trainers!
Even leading up to the precious days there are similarities. In order to get a horse into the Melbourne cup there is examination of previous form, then submission to qualifications, nominations, acceptances - and stumping of cash to get there. The process can start as early as the previous Melbourne Cup. No candidate for President of the United States can arrive there without experience in previous governing roles, cash, party lobbying, cash, party primaries and causcuses, cash, party nominations, cash, campaigning, cash and election to the position. And the process starts as soon as the previous election is decided.
Upon gaining the win there is much adulation, speech making and celebrating followed by media deals and extra security - for the new President as well.
Of course there are differences: $3,000,000 and a trophy - for the horse. $400,000 a year for the Leader of the Free World. The President doesn’t gets the reins for for another 11 weeks - 20 January 2009! The horse reigns the moment the race has finished.
Get ready at the starter’s gate!
Copyright M Holmes 2008
January 4, 2008
The gap filler of news reporting is the reference to a subject’s status vis a vis their number of children. “Mr Jones, father of two, was protesting about the price of Anzac biscuits outside a supermarket in Upper Woop Woop today.” We may well care about the price of Anzac biscuits – at least that is the story – but who cares about the number of offspring that this bloke has sired?
“Mrs Merryweather, mother of five, is distressed about the treatment of wild camels in
Australia” Great, but do her 5 kids care as well?
Perhaps children are relevant to the story if the story was about childcare, education, potentially dangerous toys or the effect of fast food on children’s waistlines. Otherwise the information is as irrelevant as commenting on the car that the interviewee drives.
“Father of twins, Errol Twiddle, who has 1204 unpaid parking fines, appeared in court yesterday to explain his conscientious objection to council parking policies.” Were the kids dragged before the magistrate as well? Are they preparing for a show and tell segment at school? Is there some interesting study about the effect of court fronting parents on twins? Who cares?
How does the budding journalist describe the childless, when the story has nothing to do with child bearing, fertility or lifestyle? “Miss Snorkel, childless and slightly distressed to be so, is pictured showing her prize dahlias at the Lower Great Wumpet Flower Show last weekend.”
Is this the last frontier of discrimination and public embarrassment, being named childless and somewhat desperate? As a childless fellow, I have a mind to take this careless reporting to the UN and have it banned. Or should childless people be content with the fluffy epithet “Aunty or Uncle of all, parent of none.”?
The journalist is driven by the mantra of “Who, what, where, when, and how.” Opinion writers even delve into “why”. While aspects of a person’s identity such as name, age, occupation and location may have some relevance to a story, the presence or absence of offspring rarely adds anything to a story. In telling the story, the mention of offspring is most often merely a vocal pause, a place marker before the real information is delivered. If we need such a pause I would just as soon have “umm…ahh”. Wait on…let’s get the kids in and ask them what they think!
Copyright M Holmes 2002
January 4, 2008
Scene: A lounge area: couch, easy chair, TV, coffee table
Props: remote control, sparklers, bowls/plates of snacks, several glasses/mugs, a cushion. Opens to the strains of “Auld Lang Syne” Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne? CHORUS:For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We’ll tak a cup of kindness yet, For auld lang syne!
Why do we sing “Auld Land Syne” I guess it sounds warm and friendly….and it’s easy to sing when you’ve had a few drinks. And the familiar strains are comforting –So…its 2004…a new year…365 much anticipated, unopened, unused, unsoiled days…hang on…366 days…a leap year…those who were born on the last 29 February get a REAL birthday this year.
Isn’t it also tradition that a young lady can ask a man to marry her. Does that still apply in the 21st century? (sits prim & proper, effects an upper class, gentle female voice) “My kind sir – if you would hear my petition. It is again a year where the subject of intending matrimony may be raised by a gentle woman with a gentle man. Our recent social encounters have brought me much joy. You flatter me endlessly yet your integrity is unchallenged. May I be so bold, forgive me sir- but it IS a leap year – but still with your concurrence, may we contemplate …courting this new year.
Nah – if a girl wanted to get hitched in 2004 – and the bloke was dragging the chain a bit – it might go like this. In bed one morning….honey…honey….hmmmrgh….honey Happy New Year….hmmmmrgh….honey…remember a few months ago….hmmmmmrgh…we said we’d do the right thing this year….by the kids….hmmmmrgh-whats wrong with ‘em…well nothing but we kinda said we’d “do the right thing”….make it official…please Mum & Dad….get to the church on time…hmmmmmrgh we don’t go to church…well just once …to get married…MARRIED!!!!!!!!.. ah c’mon Barry we been shacked up for 7 years and we got 3 kids…I wanna get married….ahhhhhhhhhh.
But let’s forget marriage…it’s certainly forgotten me. (beat, beat) So, Thomas Cleary, 38 years old, salesman, recently divorced from Angela, father of 5 year old Matthew…what does New Year mean to you? New Year is about….New Year’s resolutions…what can I do for myself, my family, my fellow man…this year. Phew, that’s a lot to think about.
Wait a minute….what did I promise to do last year? Hmmm…ah…give up smoking…that’s a good one. I had one smoke when I was 13, hated it and have since resolved never to smoke again. Check (gesture)….didn’t smoke at all last year…will endeavour to not to smoke again this year. Okay…what else…ah yes another easy one…”I resolve in 2004, just as I did in 2003 and for about the last ten years before that, not to accept any invitation to join an Australian national or international sporting team. I was hopeless at sport at school. So, rather than risking the same humiliation as being turned down for the under 14 F’s cricket team or the under 16 Q’s footy team, I’m getting in early. (gesture headlines – as in a notice board policy) “Any correspondence from the Australian Cricket Board, the Australian Rugby League or the Far North Queensland Olympic farnarkling squad will henceforth be returned to sender.” Even if they BEG me to come and train with Lee & Warney or invite me to offer Andrew Johns and Willie Mason the benefit of my advice and experience they will be turned down flat…….unless it involves an enormous amount of money for basically doing very little.
Turning to matters of the heart…this could be the year I fulfil one of Nicole Kidman’s New Years Resolutions – to find a new man. After all she could call me Tom – I AM about her height – certainly taller than the pipsqueak she was married too. And now that HER career has taken off I am the sort of quiet behind the scenes kind of guy who would not steal HER thunder. (Laughs) Ah…who am I kidding..Nicole and me (chuckles) And finally….I resolved last year to lose weight…hmmm….not a lot of progress on that one. Hang on a minute…I’ll change that a bit…this year I resolve to….no I choose to …..HAVE THE BABY. (hands on own stomach)
But seriously….what did I do with 2003? What am I doing this year? What am I doing with my life? The tracks on the train wreck of my marriage were cleared up a bit this year. I see Matty every third weekend and for half of every second school holidays. Mind you I get to do all the driving from here to Townsville. At least Angie has turned down the aggression meter from “absolute bile and hatred” to “you miserable bastard” – so that’s progress of a sort. So, I’m not really that involved in my own little patch of leading and raising my family. For some people, family is the centre of the world…and at the end of their lives, one of their proudest achievements. By circumstances its been reduced to a part time role for me – whatever my preferences may otherwise be.
So what about my job? At work, I sell things to people – sometimes I deliver their dreams but more often I’m pandering to their greed and the siren call of their credit card. Since when did a plasma wall screen TV become “standard”. Does each child in a family really need an “entertainment” system in their own bedroom? Of course, I set goals for myself to keep me motivated. But are more sales and a higher income the standards which measure whether my life has been a success – or successful enough?
In my own neighbourhood, the people seem very self-sufficient and like to keep to themselves. I can hardly go around the block conducting an extensive survey as to who has problems and would they like me to help fix them. They’d think I was some sort of pervert or weirdo and report me to Neighbourhood Watch in 2 minutes flat.
Neither am I going to stride a larger stage…I can’t see myself running for mayor, let alone State Premier or Prime Minister. I’m not a millionaire who can set up a foundation to provide for the disadvantaged. I mean sure, I slip a donation to almost anyone that asks – from the Salvos to the local school to bushfire or flood victims – even people suffering overseas. But my few dollars are hardly going to make a difference in the overall scheme of things. Perhaps if I was an elite sportsman or a well known entertainer I could use my “star power” to promote good causes. (chuckles) BUT I have already resolved not to let the Cricket Board pressure me into running any gigs – AS IF.
So what’s left? After family, work, neighbourhood, wider community and the national or international stages. Where is my niche? What can I contribute to other lives that extends beyond fulfilling my own selfish desires? (Long Pause). I don’t know.
But my new Years Resolution is that…I WANT to make a difference – not change the world but just leave MY part of the world a better place for others. THIS year I need to discover HOW I’m going to do that – HOW I can make a difference. (quieter, more thoughtful) And be content and have faith that I’ve chosen the right way to go. (Sees burnt out sparklers, picks them up, stares at them) The most important thing is to make a decision and make a start…the amount of time we have here to make a difference is unknown…and often shorter than we think…better make a start before my time simply fizzles out. (Beat..beat..beat) (Hears phone) Well I suppose I should get the phone…(laughs) I am the only one here!! (exits) Hello, this is Lifeline, is there something you’d like to talk about? (CURTAIN)
Copyright M Holmes 2003
January 4, 2008
Now we know why the Ultimate Answer to Life, The Universe and Everything is 42. (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy)
If a show reel (DVD) was made of the ordinary person’s life, it would be no longer than 42 minutes. Think about it. A public figure gets an hour on “This Is Your Life”. A significant historical figure may get a two hour documentary or docu-drama. Someone who changed the world is worthy of a six hour mini series.
Immodest as we are, people insist on publishing diaries, writing autobiographies and charting family trees. All of which takes considerably longer than 42 minutes. Arguably one of the most influential people in recorded history, Jesus Christ, gets a mere five books of the New Testament to record his life. And even that chronicle is silent about Jesus’ life between the ages of about 13 and 30. In that context, a show reel (or DVD) of 42 minutes for the ordinary person is rather generous. But with a tip of the hat to twentieth century popular culture (Hitchhiker’s), 42 minutes it is.
It is 2008. I will be 45 years old in April. In the history of mankind, 45 is the age of a veteran, a grey hair, one of the third generation. Even in the early 20th century, more died before 45 than lived past it. In the 21st century, age 45 seems commonplace. Young-ish middle age. Old-ish youth. But life is precious. 45 years are precious. Here are my 42 minutes :
Three minutes recalling the best times I have spent with and the most valuable lessons I have learnt from my Dad and Mum, Ron and Sue. Since they are both still alive, I throw in all happy memories still to come.
Two minutes reminiscing on cricket, with some personal recollections from Steve Waugh.
Two minutes recalling every job interview where I scored the job. I was really on fire on those days.
A minute more for the most satisfying achievements in all the jobs I ever had.
Two minutes covering all that I gained from volunteer work – for I gained every bit as much as I put in.
Two minutes to re-visit India, preferably culminating in a train trip setting off from a busy station.
Two minutes exploring my faith – from unbelief in an other world; to child like Christian belief; to deconstructing what is worth keeping from what mankind has set up.
A minute remembering the worst of times – mental anguish spiralling through suicidal thoughts and actions. And still a light of hope, almost always carried by a dear loved one.
One minute with an angels’ eye view of those two motor vehicle accidents – 1986 in Queensland and 1996 in Victoria. My time on this earth was not up then – maybe another point of view will help me see why not and how not.
A minute just to laugh – the eye watering, out of breath, literally belly aching laugh, usually at something very silly.
A minute for all the great movies, plays and performances of any kind that I witnessed – the ones that were entertaining, inspiring and just amazing in the execution of the performance.
One minute with my first love, D, who first loved me back.
One minute experiencing the giddiness of any new love.
One minute enjoying the antics of all the pets I’ve known.
Wow. 21 minutes.
A minute’s silence for all those who strove and achieved a better life for themselves and those that came after them.
A minute’s silence for babies, infants and children who barely got a start to life, so missed out on much of what life has to offer.
Seven minutes with the love of my life now, Kathie. Seven minutes will never be enough but seven minutes that I will claim nevertheless.
A minute just to laugh – the eye watering, out of breath, literally belly aching laugh, usually at something very silly – together with Kathie.
A minute for the unexpected, the surprises, the things that you never thought would happen but are glad they did.
A minute for the unexpected, the surprises, the things that you never thought would happen but are glad they did – see, that was unexpected!!!
Three minutes for all the friends I have ever had – it is not a long list so they get many seconds each!
36 minutes - just 6 more.
Four minutes for all the adventures still to come.
And two more minutes with Kathie.
Copyright M Holmes 2007
January 4, 2008
How to Get Elected (Sitting, Standing, Speaking and Listening)
Every member of parliament has a seat. But before they get their first seat in parliament they need to stand at an election. At an election many people can stand for the one seat but only one can sit until the next election when more people can stand for the seat. Then the sitting member can stand again while they remain sitting but if another person wins the election, the sitting member is unseated and cannot sit again until they stand at another election and then unseat the sitting member themselves.
In the parliament, all members sit on benches. There are government benches, opposition benches and cross benches. The members on the cross benches are cross that they are not allowed to sit on the government benches or the opposition benches. The government and the opposition have a front bench and a number of back benches. The cross benches only have back benches, which begs the question of why the first cross bench is not a front bench - it just isn’t - is is merely the first cross bench back bench with no front bench in front of it.
Now the members that sit on the government front bench are all ministers - but none of them work for a church and only some of them go to church. The members on the opposition front bench are all shadow ministers. They don’t work for a church either and probably not many of them go to church. They are not shadow ministers because they are in semi-darkness - in fact the lighting above the opposition front bench is just as good as the lighting above the government front bench. Perhaps they are just shadows of their former selves if they were proper ministers in an earlier time.
The Parliament also has a Speaker whose job is to listen to the sitting members when they stand to say something. So the Speaker should in fact be called a Listener because he listens to what sitting members are saying when they are standing. Furthermore some other sitting members try to speak over sitting members who are standing because they wish to speak. The Speaker must listen to the sitting member who is interrupting the standing sitting member to determine if the interrupting sitting member has a point of order. If not, the Speaker tells the sitting member to stop speaking because the sitting member who is standing has the floor.
After some time of sitting (called a session), Parliament rises for a recess - like little lunch at school, only longer. So the members leave their seat in Parliament House and go back to the seat that they won when they stood for the seat at election time. Then they talk to some of the people that helped them stand in their seat and who voted for them when they stood so they could sit, so that when they return to the Parliament to sit in the next session they will be able to ask the Speaker if they can stand so they can speak while the other members listen to the ideas of the people in the sitting standing speaking member’s seat.
After three years of sessions, recesses and multiple standing of sitting members to speak to the Speaker and other members that listen - then there is another election. And all the sitting members stay in their seat while they stand against all the other people who want to sit in their seat after the election - unless of course the sitting member is sick of all this sitting, standing, speaking and listening and decides to retire.
Also in Parliament there is an Upper House and a Lower House but they happen to be on the same level. Perhaps I’ll explain that another time…
Copyright M Holmes 2004