Aw, shit. I typed too slow. The social media stopwatch ran out and the screen shot off onto pictures of kittens. I never got my five seconds of fame. Now I’ll never be a Kardashian.
I suppose it’s all for the best. I looked at my bottom in the mirror and it has none of the appeal that makes it to tabloid covers. I put it away.
And I haven’t got a message for humanity – or at least the one I have is only likely to be of service locally; ” Get off my lawn! “. Actually, given the state of my lawn, most sensible kids detour around it.
I would probably be able to claw a better toehold on the social media ladder if I included more cats or children injuring themselves on light poles in my postings. But our cat is such an obnoxious animal that it refuses to be cute, even for tuna. And we live in a suburb with underground power. Unless I get my own light pole along with the video camera I am out of luck.
Could I host a summit meeting between horrible world politicians and get the locals to riot outside the house for the camera? Possibly…I’ll send off letters to the various embassies in South America and Africa to see if they can dig me up some dictators willing to fly to Perth for a chance to shout at each other. No fear of them trying the old political asylum trick as there is space opening up at Manus Island for new residents. Plus the New Guinea CWA has just published a new book of traditional recipes…
I used to have a pretty good corner on the local cynicism market when I worked behind a retail counter. I could size up a customer in four seconds and predict what would come out of their mouth…And make the rest of the staff laugh until they were ill into their paper lunch bags or the till.
Now you have blown this to pieces. No longer can I shock or amuse when you have topped nearly everything I ever did, and continue to do even worse each day. I cannot possibly compete with Trump and Trudeau, and now even Boris Johnson is doing it in his retirement.
Boris. A man burdened with the name of a cartoon Russian spy name, plus a body and head of hair that was God’s gift to cartoonists, thinks the moslem burqua is a bad look. You couldn’t write this stuff and sell it to the Three Stooges – they’d turn it down as too slapstick.
I’m not in favour of the garment as such but then my objection is that it is too much confined to the one sex – if the males of the tribe were similarly swathed and hidden I would say fine. Or ditch the black lump look and substitute exotic and bright colours and designer patterns. If they must make themselves look like a bolt of cloth at least make it the fancy stuff.
But back to the world leaders. I think we miss out on a lot of good stuff by being Euro and American-centric in the news coverage. I’ll bet there are some wise and wonderful statesmen ( oops, statespeople. Sorry, Justin. ) in the various dictators, theocrats, plutocrats, autocrats, and kleptocrats of the other continents. We just need to have them on the telly regularly. And not just when they are being tried – before that, when they are reviewing the troops or beating the recalcitrants.