March 10, 2008
FIRST DRAFT: May 05, AU Edition
Even Kofi Annan’s got his own weblog now…
MARCH 21 2005
Man, this investigation into Kojo and me is a real drag. It’s total pressure, 24-7! I thought having this position meant I wouldn’t have to put up with this kind of thing. Like, dude, where’s my diplomatic
But no, they have to investigate everything. Everything, going back aaages. Like, hello! Cotecna? Who are they? I don’t remember.
And that Paul Volcker guy. Man, he is such a wingnut.
The worst thing is that I appointed him. Sheesh. What was I thinking?
Hey, Volcker! Investigate this.
posted by GenSec at 12:26 PM
Permalink Comments (124) Trackback
MARCH 24 2005
Man, this Cotecna thing is really ruining my reputation. Like, I just ran a Google ego search. I’m a pariah! Not so long ago I was a superstar on the world stage. I was pretty fly (for a black guy). Not any longer. I’ve gone from hero to zero in, like, days. This is sooo not happening.
Not that I’m in this just for the glory, mind. I just want to do my job. And it’s one helluva tough job. No, really! It’s not all receptions and champers and canapes, you know. There are medals of honor to receive; genocide reports to quash. (Like, words are important, dude. There really is a difference between mass murder and genocide, okay? Trust me.) Still, when all the drudgery is done I can enjoy the best part: I get to be concerned. I just love that ... Being concerned – it’s a buzz, man!
That’s why I hate all this controversy. I want to be concerned about the world. I don’t want the world being so concerned about me. You dig?
posted by GenSec at 4.34 PM
Permalink Comments (67) Trackback
APRIL 1 2005
It’s April Fool’s Day, alright. Now the World Bank is headed by a neo-con.
I had to put up with sniping from that guy and his cronies for, like, years man! “You’re too weak with dictators ... Act on Iraq ... Do something, for God’s sake” ... Etc.
But the UN couldn’t win, could it? When I did nothing, the Yanks had a field day. But if I’d said go in and kick butt, the member states would have gone all medieval on my ass. As I posted at the time: Saddamned if you do. Saddamned if you don’t.
Why won’t they shut up about “oil-for-food” ...
Hey, Wolfie and Co., read my lips: I did not have financial relations with that man Saddam Hussein!
But now I’ve got to have financial relations with Wolfie?
Jeebus, what a drag. I might just quit after all.
posted by GenSec at 9.40 AM
Permalink Comments (57) Trackback
FIRST DRAFT: July 05, AU Edition
We sneak a peek at the Senate’s new workplace agreements...
Standard Contract (“Senator”)
Terms and Conditions of Employment
Howard Holdings Pty Ltd
You are employed as a full-time Management-Staff Liaison Officer (“Senator”). As described in the Company Charter (“Constitution”) of Howard Holdings Pty Ltd, your continued employment is subject to ongoing review by employee-shareholders (“citizens”). These reviews (“elections”) occur at regular three year intervals in all branches (“cities and towns”) of the corporation (“Australia”).
The exact date of the next review will be chosen by the Chief Executive Officer (“Prime Minister”) after consultation between the Management (“House of Representatives”) and Board of Directors (Messrs Murdoch, Packer, Stokes, et al.).
2. TERMS AND CONDITIONS:
It is your duty to faithfully and diligently facilitate the implementation of Management decisions (“policies”) made in the collective pecuniary interest of all 20,342,715 Howard Holdings employee-shareholders.
Pursuant to this, on occasion, you may:
• Make minor adjustments to these decisions in response to employee-shareholder input (“public opinion”).
• Politely express reservations about the nature of these decisions in response to your own personal code of business ethics (“conscience”). Under exceptional circumstances these may take the form of signed petitions (“private member’s bills”) against certain aspects of company practice*.
• Excessively zealous collective expressions of discontent regarding any aspect of the company’s performance in the global marketplace (“rebellions”), and/or surreptitious dissemination of company records (“leaks”) – particularly those aiding and abetting known anti-corporatist forces (“ABC”, “Fairfax”,”Greens”) – may, at Management’s sole discretion, be seen as breaches of these Terms and Conditions. As such they attract severe penalties, up to and including dismissal (“disendorsement”).
• Extra prudence must be applied while performing any of your duties related to the recruitment of overseas personnel (“immigration”) and the nature of the processing thereof (“border control issues”).
• Any and all of the above Terms and Conditions may be subject to change by Management at any time without notice.
* N.B.: While some junior Management staff (Georgiou, Moylan, et al.) have recently invoked this particular clause – and have not been penalised as of this writing – Management-Staff Liaison Officers are still strongly advised not to follow suit.
FIRST DRAFT: June 05, AU Edition
Our exclusive first look at the Mark Latham diaries...
November 22, 1999:
Bloody hacks. Just read another story about my ties with Gough and how I’m the ‘anointed one’. Bugger that. Sure, Dad is a total legend. But I’m my own man too, you know...
July 13, 2001:
Maaate. I am so piSSeD. YO wouldn’t believe wha jus HAPpennd!!! Cabbie nicked my moolahh.Butt I shOWED himmdintI!!!
OOhsh. Feeelin queesy....thinkI’m gonna CH ...
July 14, 2001:
Ugh. My bonce is as heavy as a bloody bowling ball. And my left knee feels like a croc took a piece out of it.
That cabbie’s probably feeling a good deal worse, though. I did tackle the bastard pretty hard. Hope he’s okay...re that: what if the hacks pick up on it?
Still, they never found out about that flower pot man I decked yonks back in Liverpool, eh! Old bastard was about ninety not out then. He’s probably carked it by now.
So, it should be sweet. Not worth worrying about.
June 30, 2002:
‘Arse-licker.’ It’s just a word. OK, maybe two. Why all the outrage?
Now the Tories are pushing this line I’ve got some kind of bum obsession. How wrong is that?
Anal fixation my arse!
Talk about the potty calling the dunny brown. I mean they can talk; they are totally, scrotally obsessed with the contents of my pants.
That Mad Monk and his “missing manhood” jibes. If he brings that up again I’ll deck ‘im!
And anyway, he’s the one who’s always wussing out and walking away.
Actually, he’s such a wuss I’m amazed he even fathered the sprog. About the only thing he could sire is a fart. (We’ll probably find out the ponce had nothing to do with it. That’ll be a cack, eh!)
Bloody Tories. They’re such a pack of girls. I might be shy a cod, but I’ve still got more balls than the lot of them.
February 5, 2003:
Mate, what is it with this joint? It’s full of bloody blushing violets. Now they’re going spacko over that ‘conga line’ line!
Gawd. You’d think I lobbed it out right in the middle of Question Time and performed genital origami or something.
They’re still spewing over ‘arse-licker’ – not to mention that (very accurate) description of Tony Staley.
Then there’s the ongoing saga over ‘skanky ho’. Hell, I only said it to get the yoof vote. That’s a pick-up line in some quarters, you know.
What’s wrong with a bit of colourful language? I mean, for f..k’s sake!
Anyway, in all those cases I was being quite bloody restrained. Imagine how they’d have reacted if I’d really cut loose...
September 16, 2004:
Mate, sometimes I read what I’ve written here and wonder why I keep doing it.
Then I remember: Yonks from now, long after my epoch-making, ball-tearing stint as PM has transformed the nation forever, these scrawlings will be worth their weight in gold. I’ll be the new Great Man then; kicking major freckle on the speech circuit; holding court like Dad does now. People will give their eye teeth to know what was really going down all those years ago.
It’s timing, see.
Before then? Not a snowflake’s chance in hell.
Why would they be interested?
FIRST DRAFT: Apr 05, AU Edition
One of our youngest insiders recorded the following exchange at Kirribilli Kindie…
Master John (waving a jewel-encrusted rattle): I’m da king of da castle! You da dirty rascal!
Master Peter: Not fair! I want da big rattle now. My turn. MY TURN!
Master John: No. It mine. All mine. Wanna hit Big Fat Kimby on da head again. One two three time hit him on da head! Yippee!
Master Peter: But you said. You said you’d give me da rattle. I wanna be king now!
Master John: How you can be king? You we… wepub… wepubwican!
Master Peter: OK fine! I want da big rattle so I can be pwesident! Give me rattle! NOW!
Master John: No! It mine! Forever! You, never! Hahaha! Da people, dey all love me! Dey hate you! You da cold one!
Master Peter: Liar! You said intwest wates stay same! Dey go up! You told fib! Liar liar pants on fire!
Master John: Who side you on? You sound like Big Fat Kimby now! Money your job…You do all da stuff wid da play money.
Master Peter: No fair! I done good job! I done ten budgets! And I’m still only dis many! You try dat! Me do better dan you could do.
Master John (waving rattle further away): No. It mine. I love da rattle. It love me. Mine.
Master Peter (collapsing in corner): You just wanna beat Dada Bob, dat why. Dada Bob had da big rattle longer dan anyone. You just want to beat him.
Master John: Don’t bring Dada Bob into dis. Dada Bob my dada. Dada Bob my hero, My dada better than your dada.
Master Peter: Dada Bob my hero too! Dada Bob my dada too!
Master John: No he not. Your dada…DADA GOUGH!
Master Peter: WAAAH! WAAH! You so mean!
Master John: No! It true! You we… wep… wepubwican! You mess up budget! You make intwest wates go BOOM! And you went on “sorry toddle”. Dada Gough proud of you!
Suddenly a little girl in red diapers appears outside
Little Ms. Julia: Dada Gough my dada!
Master John: Ick. It Little Miss Julia.
Little Ms. Julia: Little Ms Julia to you, poohead!
Master Peter: Eeek! Girl germs! Girl germs!
Master John: Commie germs! Commie germs!
Little Ms. Julia (lunging through playpen bars at the rattle): Gimme dat!
Master John: Why you here? What you doing here? Why no Big Fat Kimby?
Little Ms. Julia: He twied. He dwess up like Mandy Vandy. Got caught. Give me rattle! Me want rattle too!
Master John: Commies in da kindy! Commies in
Master Peter: Yeah! Commies in da kindy!
Suddenly a nanny appears:
Nanny: Oh dear, I smell a smell…
All three in unison: Wah! Wah! Wah!
First Draft: Mar 05, AU Edition
Somehow this draft e-mail from Kim Beazley made it into our in-box…
Subject: Proposed new tactical directions - and thanks!
Dear men and women of Labor,
Thank you for re-electing me as Leader. I am both proud and excited - not to mention extremely flushed. Flushed with confidence. Flushed with enthusiasm. Flushed with anticipation! It’s a great feeling; a feeling that I hope to share. Come the next election I hope and pray that we are all flushed together! And I am confident we will be. Certainly, victory is possible, but not until after some significant changes have taken place. The first thing we need to do is re-unite as a party. How can we unify the country if we can’t unify ourselves? You will no doubt recall that I recently told you all to just “put a sock in it”. I reiterate that sentiment in this memo - but this time with a qualification; a qualification that I’d like to delineate:
As distinct from the Liberal Party, which has a very top-down culture, we are the party of debate and consensus. This is a tradition we simply must not discard. So, the figurative sock I am thinking of is not, say, a thick, wooly, footy sock, which, when placed in the oral cavity would completely stifle any attempted vocalizations. It could be more of a lightweight tennis sock - or even one of those elastic shin-huggers - a sock that, although achieving the required effect most of the time, would still allow certain vital phrases to be expressed - and consequently heard - if need be. Speaking of verbal matters: I am well aware that my peripatetic thought processes and meandering syntax have been a problem in the past. But no longer!
From this point on I make this commitment, both to you and the people of Australia: No more prolixity. As we all know, prolixity - or even a general loquaciousness - is a curse for a politician (or any public figure, for that matter) in this age of sound-bites and fleeting images. In the final analysis, what’s the point of taking a hundred words to say something when only five will do?
Just as I must reinvent myself, so must we all. Apropos of this, we must constantly push into new areas. We need to cease going over old ground. We must quit with the endless post-mortems. We simply have to stop repeating ourselves.
(And we must also do away with the negativity. Negativity never, ever works. It ultimately leads to low morale. And the last thing we need is low morale. Particularly not now. Really, just the thought of it fills me with dread...)
But enough of that! We must stop being obsessed with the past. We must become obsessed with the future, and how we can get there. We must act. And the first step in the process of acting is to agree - and agree unanimously - that I am the party Leader; that I make the decisions; that I articulate our direction. (Of course, I’ll contribute to this process by listening to all constructive criticism, and going with any good suggestions you might have.) Needless to say the most important sub-step of this step is to put the bickering behind us. (And on the subject of behinds: We must avoid any such obsession with that part of the anatomy in our rhetoric. These will no doubt remind the electorate of my predecessor’s unfortunate fixation thereupon, and his ultimately disastrous reign. So, no more references to posteriors, or the osculation thereof. It will be the kiss of death.) So, in summary: We must be combative, but not thuggish. We must be unified, but not undemocratic. And we must stop trying to have it both ways.
Thank you. And go get ‘em, fighters!
FIRST DRAFT: Dec 05, AU Edition
The address we like to imagine Dominique de Villepin almost gave France…
A POET SHALL LEAD US!
Noble citizens of France, I address you as your Prime Minister and as a humble poet ... Many have baulked at our use of emergency powers to quell the riots. Unfortunately, they have been, how you say, necessaire. We are now down to the usual figure of 90 cars torched per day acrossFrance. Normality, she has returned.
However, we must still reflect on what has happened, non? Our great President Chirac has identified – and bemoaned – a ‘deep malaise’. Sadly, that is not all; there is also an epidemic of existential nausea. (And a literal form, too, as anyone who has walked the streets of Aulnay-sous-Bois knows only too well. Merde, quelle pong!)
So, who do we blame for such sickness, both spiritual and gastronomique?
The American culture of fast food and Hollywood violence has taken its toll. (We all saw those armies of rioters in their ‘hip hop’ fatigues, did we not?) This imported junk has poisoned our great nation’s soul. The body politic is aching for sustenance. So, at this grave hour, I seek spiritual food from our literary canon. (Unlike the barbarian Bush, who finds fodder for his military cannon!)
Pilgrim-like I plod through the furrowed fields of Gallic knowledge. Presently I encounter the philosopher Rousseau. Gay sparrow perched atop his head, leopard purring contentedly at his feet, he offers his wise counsel: “Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains.”
Yonder kneels Voltaire, trowel in hand. “Dominique, let me be Candide,” he says. “Cultivate your garden.”
It is all so clear! We must make our savages noble once again. We, the intelligentsia, must spill from the salons and travel to our cities’ outskirts to nurture nature in those concrete caverns. We must plant trees therein; make the deserts of the destitute bloom – even at the risk of soiling our smocks!
Then I think of those smouldering Citroens and wonder: but why such hate? It is so not Nice.
Pondering this dissonance, I muse: Yet is ze hate not ze love denied? And does a flame not create as well as destroy? ’Tis true, this fiery river of gall flows from the angry liver of Gaul. But we must not douse this flame; we must harness its heat; create a crackling conflagration in the hopeful hearth of the heart! (Is good analogy, non?)
So, what will ignite this bold new night; consign the ire to a purer pyre? What will hatch this matchless match, to make our suburbs superb?
Blaze moi! I have it: poetry itself!
Let us fight poverty with poetry. Poetry lifts the fallen man; inspires him to build an empire only within himself.
And so to my answer to our great predicament: From this day forth every household in the nation will receive a copy of my collected works. Nightly reading is compulsory.
Vive la France!
FIRST DRAFT: Sep 05, AU Edition
The latest in lifestyle programming – coming soon to Channel 873!
For vivacious viewers who want to do lunch and learn how it was made!
TV GUIDE 10 September 2005
2:30 pm i The Grate Escape
Celebrity chef Gordon Casein travels the globe in search of the world’s most ornate cheese-shredding implements.
3:30 pm I The Golden Years of Infotainment
Red Eye Spruiking Stars of the Nineties — Where Are They Now?
The creepy hypnotist; the mad, manic chef with the mid-Atlantic accent; that dorky fat guy with the amazing memory ... Anyone who ever had insomnia in the nineties remembers them well.
4:30 pm I I am Spam
Celebrity net geek Horatio L Parthenogenesis reads out 300 of the week’s most amusing “make money at home” ads from his email inbox.
5:30 pm I Mess Busters!
Newlyweds Wayne and Genevieve throw their first dinner party. But nervous Genevieve undercooks the chicken. Stricken with gastroenteritis the guests writhe across the dining room floor vomiting uncontrollably. After the ambulance leaves the distraught young couple survey the devastation. Their once clean and cosy Surry Hills terrace is now a house of horrors.
Who they gonna call? Mess Busters!
6:30 pm I In the Dog House
Celebrity dog breeder Jamie “Jack” Russell and his wacky sidekicks complete another miraculous kennel makeover.
7:30 pm I Stop, I’m in Stitches! (Series Premiere)
Celebrity embroiderer and comedienne Sal “Sassy” Singer takes us on an hilarious journey through the wide world of sewing. See the woman E! described as “a real knit-wit; like Ruby Wax with needles!”. Sew darn funny you might just put an eye out!
8:30 pm I Squad Squad
They do anything, anytime! (Like the Goodies, but serious.)
10:00 pm I Food for Thought
Celebrity psychologist and bon vivant Dr Patricia Foie Gras continues her fascinating series on the celebrity chef phenomenon. This week she looks at the growing number of stalkers fixated on these “gastro-porn stars”. She posits that this alarming social trend is caused by an exploitative media totally fixated on food ... Then Gordon Casein pops in and whips up a scrumptious cheese and truffle soufflé!
As disturbing as it is appetising.
11:00 pm I I am Spam Uncut
Celebrity net geek Horatio L Parthenogenesis reads out 300 of the week’s most amusing “enlarge your penis” ads from his email inbox.