Vote Lamington For The Riverton Electorate

This Saturday sees a state government election for Western Australia. I want all my North American and European readers to get out on the streets and protest strongly over the issues here. Never mind that you are not citizens or electors. If we had the decency  to throw ourselves around like pigs in a futile fit about the American presidency or Britain and the EU, you have a moral duty to do the same for us. A hint: The government party is disliked. But then so is the opposition and the other hopefuls.

For our part we will vote – at the local school or shire hall – and do so in an orderly fashion. There will be a gauntlet of party supporters to run from the carpark to the demountable classroom that holds to polling station and the unwary may find themselves clutching a dozen how-to-vote advice cards and other propaganda. I am happy to say that there are very few disturbances amongst the political supporters. If you want to pass through them and take nothing, they are legally bound to let you do so. I find a good sneeze and a streaming handkerchief gets me a clear passage.

The state election is in the demountable – the real election is in the school playground outside it. That is where the ladies of the school support group set up tables to sell home-baked goods. It pays to go early and it pays to take enough change with you – some of the trays of lamingtons and lemon slices are magnificent. One lady baxter in particular I know from previous elections and I will stalk her like a trophy deer.

They can elect who they like for the state legislature – I intend to vote for her and her lemon slice.


The Plebiscite On Sane Sex Marriage


The Australian federal government is currently formulating a formulaic formula to propose a law to institute a non-binding poll of the population to see if they want to have a say in whether or not someone will then make a law that allows a current law to be altered so that people who have the same twiddley bits can have equal property rights in a shared home. Gasp. Gasp. Gasp.

I don’t have a lineup of the teams but I’d be willing to bet the Catholic church is in there somewhere, as well as the St. Georges Terrace lawyers, the leftover communists at the university, and the Real Estate Institute of Western Australia. I don’t really think that REIWA has any opinion one way or the other on a moral basis, but if it involves property they want to be in there with a spoon.

I am delighted that we are going to the polls again, as every time we have done so in the past the local Parents & Citizens organisation has put on a baked goods sale at the local school – the polling booth – and the flakey lemon slice is worth putting up with any amount of politics. For myself, I hardly feel that I could dictate anyone else’s tastes in soup, let alone sex, and will therefore leave everyone to their own devices. I’m less pleased to realise that the government will pork barrel out $ 160,000,000  of public money to do this. I should be interested to see who the money will go to.

In an effort to get more of the home-made biscuits and slices, I am going to propose that we have regular plebiscites. Once the same-sex marriage one is done I want one on sane-sex marriage. The imposition of religious and governmental control on exactly what you are allowed to do to whom and when. I want rigid rules. Rigid pulsating rules. I want to see them applied. If necessary I am prepared to send away to Canberra for the DVDs of the rigid rules being applied…

Whoops, that was a little random. Let me just mop up a bit with a paper towel and we’ll carry on.

Sane sex is good sex. Sane sex never becomes unruly. Sane sex never spends $ 300 on fancy drinks at the casino on the off-chance of a grope. Sane sex never sits through a movie marathon until 3:00 AM. Sane sex never listens to how much the ex isn’t right. Sane sex goes to bed at 10:00 in sensible pyjamas. Alone, if necessary.

Sane sex needs no internet connection…indeed sane sex doesn’t need washable surfaces, mysterious parcels, or passwords. Sane sex doesn’t leave the lights on, the blinds open, and a set of deck chairs on the front lawn for the spectators. Sane sex does not require batteries…or if it does, they generally do not need to be re-chargeable.

Sane sex has been described as beige. Or Belge. Or bulge.

As I wrote, I will be looking forward to going to the polls to decide where everyone else can put their poles. It is not prurience – it is out of sincere respect for vanilla slice and lamingtons. You can achieve a great deal of sexual morality with desiccated coconut.