Well Goodness Gracious Me

I have been resigned for a long time now to the sound of the telephone ringing just before tea-time. It’ll be the land line – not the mobile – and it will have the classic silence and clicking before a subcontinental voice comes on and lies to me.

The lie will be one of the classics  – Telstra Technical Department, Microsoft Technical Support, Australian Taxation Office, Australian Federal Police, roof solar panels,etc.

It will commence with the voice asking me if I am Mr. Stein, or the householder. I have learned to ignore this question and ask directly to whom I am speaking. Generally they will give a first name and a slightly mumbled organisation name. Very few of them ever admit to being a Gupta or a Ranjit…it is always a Brad or a Janet. In many cases you can hear the Hindi being screeched in the background and in one instance I could swear I could hear the humidity…

I’ve tried everything. Abruptness, sugary sweetness, baffled confusion, a heavy German accent…none of it seems to stem the flow of bullshit from the receiver’s earpiece. It’s only a whim or the effect of the afternoon cocktail that makes a difference between swearing at them and singing to them. But I grow tired of it – especially when I have better things to do.

So now I am going to start firing off a series of letters of complaint to the only authority who can put a stop to it – the Indian government. If they are going to host these electronic bedbugs, they can be held up for airing as well as the bedding. I’m sure it will be for the most part futile, but the pleasure to be had in abusing a dignitary for a dollar is cheap enough amusement.

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Famous Hollywood Mathematician Confesses His Sines

In an exclusive interview with anyone who would stay still long enough, famous Hollywood mathematician, Louis C. de Nominateur, has admitted that he has been guilty of transversal since the early 1990’s.

This confession comes on the eve of revelations by a number of female academics that de Nominateur used his position as Monomial at Berkeley University’s Nonial Institute to press them for favours. The fact that he was contented with favours from a Cracker jack box is neither here nor there. If he was going to whistle, they were determined to decide where it would be.

The use of improper fractions has also been cited as the reason so many of the complainants  failed to gain tenure at the University. There have been rumours of trinomials.

The law firm of Scalene, Johnson, and Congruent has been engaged to prosecute the case in California. As soon as the plaintiffs decide how much money they would like to possess, writs will be served on the defendant. The first hearings are not expected to take place until the internet has delivered a judgement favourable to the complainants and there has been adequate time for the memes and outrage to take effect.

Putting You On Notice…

One of the classic phrases that comes up repeatedly in Australia is ” Putting someone on notice “. I don’t know whether it also occurs in North America, Europe, or Asia, but here it has been constantly in the mouth of every level of officialdom.

We’ve just had it again from a local politician – possibly a state minister for police, or justice, or traffic revenue, or scolding…whichever – in her case it was to warn motorcyclists that there is now a jury-rig camera system that takes a picture of the back of their motorcycles as they pass it by. So they dare not speed.

Riiiight.

The phrase is nothing more than one of those high-sounding concoctions like ” At this point in time ” or ” It has come to our notice ” that make the person using it sound like a prat. An official prat, but a posturing prat nevertheless. In other, more honest contexts, it could be seen as a threat or bullying tactic.

What should you do when someone uses it to you? Well, do take note of whatever threat they are trying on and plan how to counter it, but also let them know that you think them hackneyed and trite. And that you will be watching them to see if they become worse posers with time – and making sure that others laugh at them.

In short…put them on notice.

When I’m Culling You-Hoo Hoo Hoo Hoo Hoo Hoo…

You’ll be really screw – hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoooed…

It’s the theme song for Facebook Spring Cleaning – that time of year when you turn your social media friends over and look at the stains underneath them…and decide whether to wipe it up or wipe them out.

Not that you are a cruel or callous tyrant – far from it – you are a sensitive flower of the universe  – open to goodness and kindness and righteousness wherever it appears. But when it appears under a pile of political, financial, or moral horse shit it is not worth the shovelling.

So it’s time to assess the ineffable. And the F—able as well. Especially them. When the Swear Jar starts to look like the International Monetary Fund it is time to consider whether someone is a good cultural influence or not. We are, for the most part, what we eat, but sometimes we are also what we are fed. And if we are fed a diet of bad language, bad ideas, and bad manners, it is time to find another place to eat.

Like any social media enthusiast, I want people to like me. I want to like them. But if the cost of this is agreement and adherence to the unlikeable…and sometimes to the unbearable…it is time to bring the social contract to an end.

Shall we regard it as a no-blame, no-guilt divorce? You can have custody of the Candy Crush and the sidebar. I’ll keep the hot rod pictures and the YouTube of people making ugly furniture. We’ll split the kitten videos down the middle.

 

Vladimir? We Have Problem.

Is leaking again. Someone lift lid and gas escape. Germans and French find out.

Ministry of Denial is deny it but damned western press still report. Not sure if the story about it being from Romania worked.

Quick – time to distract. Get Australian branch of Ministry to make film about Amerikanski waste dump in Pacific island. That keep them busy for a while.

Meantime we glue lid on Chelyabinsk once more. Old stuff dissolve in rain. Soviet-era glue to blame – those responsible will be liquidate.

Broadcast Live From Your House

When you watch the news about the US president Donald Trump – or click the Facebook side panel – or listen to your friends deride him based upon what they have read on the internet…have you ever stopped to consider what YOU might look like if you were subject to the minute scrutiny that attends him?

I ask this as I remember being afflicted with similar scrutiny when a child in school – I was the fat, new, frightened kid…and was fair game for all the bullies and smart arses in every school I attended. As my detractors wanted to belittle me, they watched every single thing I did and found fault. The simplest action was cause for howls of contempt. Nothing was private, sacred, or approved. President Trump seems to be in the same position vis-a-vis the people who supported the other side of politics – and lost – and who now want their revenge.

So let’s imagine you – if you’re a Trump detractor – going about your daily routine. Let’s see if the treatment works on you.

You get out of bed in time for breakfast: ” Lazy swine lolls in bed while others slave to prepare feast. ” Not sounding too good.

So you get up earlier next day : ” Can’t sleep. Guilty conscience. Snoops on cooks behind the scenes. ” Still not good publicity. And who is feeding these stories to the press?

Okay, this time you’ll please someone…you’ll do without breakfast: ” Too good to eat like a normal person. No pleasing some people. ” Well, what the actual…

And we haven’t even started on your bathroom routine, your clothes for the day, or whatever it is you’re going to be doing for a living – never mind your religion, family, or politics. These topics will be covered by your enemies and will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are evil incarnate, totally incompetent, and in collusion with the Russians, the French, the Tongans, and the firm that makes Cheezils. Every single action that you undertake, all day, all week, all year, will be wrong. The press and your detractors will be free to lie about you, to you, and because of you. No-one will hold them accountable.

Feeling the love yet? Feeling the burn yet? Feeling the bigotry and pettiness yet? Want to do something about it? Here’s what you do.

Nothing. Not a damn thing. Do not take the slightest notice of your detractors. Do not reward them with anger, or distress, or recognition. Take note of the fashionable meme that started up a few years ago: ” Keep calm and carry on. “. By all means use social media but do not use it to vent frustrations or angst. Be benign, vague, and cheerful. Send kitten videos. And do what you were going to do regardless.

Don’t be too sanguine about the results. You won’t reap any better opinion of yourself from the people who are determined to hate you; they have invested to much of their time in speech and writing to resile their position. Many of them hope for benefit from your opponents*. The best you can hope for is a better judgement of history.

* And if, in a few years, they present their intellectual bill to the other side of politics – and it is not paid – they have a ready-made supply of protest that they can direct to them.

 

 

 

I Need A Scold

I’m sorry to be bothering you…but could you please tell me off? I need to be criticized as soon as possible.

It’s after 6:00 AM and no-one has told me that I am wrong for voting for someone who they do not like. No-one has suggested that I am a bad, bad person for thinking different thoughts from them, eating what I like, and living my own life. I am starting to get very nervous.

I tried self-criticism, like they did in the cultural revolution, but all I go was an earnest encouragement to smelt more pig-iron and march for total electrification of the Ukraine. It’s just not the same as someone browbeating me on social media – I miss the memes.

Of course I can always get a sort of low-grade fix by going down to the local train station dressed in a kilt or a Marie Antoinette dress. People will stare and snigger, and as long as I’m prepared to imagine them making cutting remarks, I can sustain quite a decent level of self-hatred. It gets a little fraught in Pride Week when they start to applaud and/or hit on me.

The dog is no help. Dogs always wag their tails and want to be patted. The cat is a bit better because cats can sneer…but the smell of a can of tuna buys their affection and I’m left bobbing about in a sea of self-congratulation…and what good is that to me when I have a full Goth wardrobe and a poisoned dagger.

I’m hoping for a toothache or boil on the neck next week to cheer me up. Or down.