So Bear, what shall we do for Mummy's Day?

It's hard doing justice to Mother's Day on the blog. I've written my definitive mother's day post already, and the emotions haven't changed.

Prior to the first Mother's Day I raised the topic of presents and expectations with Beloved. Her answer was simple, that my initial effort would establish the tradition. No small weight to carry.

So I painstakingly worked my way along small, beautiful boutiques, looking for unique items with earthy colours that would match Beloved, her hair and her clothes, without needing a precise fit. I reached Scanlon & Theodore, recalled a conversation about this being a place full of desirable items, and went in clenching my credit card. I came out with a magnificent 'throw' in a rich, mottled olive that I knew would suit her. And I tested it on an attendant with a similar height and build to Beloved. How could I go wrong?

... You know when something just doesn't work, no matter how you try to wear it, for some intangible reason relating to cut, feng shui and the alignment of the stars?

So 2 mother's days later and in fact the only possible hints out there are the new Ben Harper album and a need for 'new clothes'. Bear and I snapped up the Ben Harper down at Northcote Shopping Centre, Bear noting with approval his authorship of her favourite lullaby, together with the mandatory box of Chocolatiers. But the clothes? The risk... the fear....

For being a wonderful, infinitely patient mummy (and wife) we gave her:

1 Ben Harper Album;
1 Box of chocolates;
1 Breakfast of hash browns, free range bacon, eggs and toast with fresh, stovetop coffee; and
a..
um...
shopping spree with a personalised shopper.

Did I do wrong? Have I encouraged the release of a demon? Have I failed my duty to challenge assumptions and whatnot by purchasing my wife a local version of Trinny & Susannah?

The reaction was good, and the worst outcome - that she took it as comment on her taste- did not happen.

We pulled out the map, drove up to the parks around the Yarra above Bulleen (past Sills Bend), stopped somewhere verdant with a large, inviting playnet, and smiled and smiled as our son dangled from the Bjorn on my chest and our daughter charged from slide to maze to swings.

They are the proof of the wonderful mother they have. Ours was a beautiful day. I think it did please Beloved more than a little...

Sills Bend, I know now what it is

It is of course a place near where its author used to live. A real bend, in the Yarra. Like people who mishear lyrics, I had come to my own assumptions, and simply thought the entire name of said blog referred to some depressed character in a Jane Austen novel, as pontificated upon at university by its lecturer-owner.

Beloved was baffled by the car conversation as I discovered, then pointed out, this landmark. Non-bloggers do not appreciate the subtleties of nuance such as blog title etymology.

Overheard in China: "What the fuck?"

So our leading intelligence agencies hold a similar view to your scribe; China poses no significant threat. So a few of the more hawkish military war porn types can't get their head around the idea. So Rudd, master of the Sinophile universe in his own mind, is sending out an explicit message that we view them as a threat?

Yes China are building their own capacity up, but surely even the more conservative realist observer can see that's a response to perceived competition, and potential security dilemmas, with the US, Taiwan, Japan and to a lesser extent India?

Of course Japan applauds Rudd's move- but Japan and China have a relationship that is testy for a number of reasons, including the failure to properly apologise and account for their imperial phase, the honouring of war criminals, and simply the fact that, aside from the lack of nuclear weapons, Japan is one of the most powerful military nations in the world.

And the message to Indonesia is...? What about the impoverished nations of the arc we accuse of instability? Is a big imperial-style navy a better way to bring security to our region than, say, helping them build schools, bridges and hospitals?

Whose security? Not mine, not yours.

Yackles with my da

Leaning in over my big soft beast of a son, 90-gazillionth percentile in everything, loading up on supplementary feeds that are driving his mummy bonkers, making cock-a-doodle-doo noises, pretending to a-a-a-tschooo, his eyes wide open (and fellow iBoom girls beware, he's got huge, blue eyes and a Harrison Ford smile that works up one side of his face faster than the other), smiling, then breaking into a big, hearty yackle.... these are a few of my favourite things.

Long tailed post brings victim testimony from the Towle case

Wouldn't have realised this if I hadn't been browsing google searches that bought people to my site. The post was on the case of Thomas Towle, who wiped out 6 kids after driving that could only be found to be culpable, except it wasn't, because he had Robert Richter and justice in this country still depends on the 'reputation' and 'gravitas' of the lead counsel. Anyway, on that post I wrote in a rather restrained way and merely discussed the higher sentences being handed out for culpable driving, a discussion rendered meaningless by the clever result pulled out of his silk's hat:

Towle, 36, was yesterday found not guilty of culpable driving, but guilty of six counts of dangerous driving causing death after he veered into the teenagers... Towle's prior convictions, including a string of driving offences and 40 court appearances between 1991 and 2003 that resulted in three jail terms. The long list includes being nabbed eight times for driving while his licence was cancelled or disqualified, and twice for drink-driving.

What a useless shit.

Anyway my old post on the topic proved to have a long tail, obviously coming up when desperate and angry friends of the victims were looking for somewhere to vent. Their views are more legitimate than mine, or frankly Robert Richter or Towle's bilious old man who both got plenty of airplay, so here they are in full, lest they be lost in the bowels of my archives:

i can't believe he will be out of prison in such a short time! thomas graham towel has killed 6 of my friends and made my life misery! he should be locked away forever for what he's done to their family and friends! how in the hell do can he be trusted to look after his own kids when hes killed 6?! i think it's just ridiculous... r.i.p cory shane abby cassie stevie and josie.. miss you guys sooo much! xoxox

...

I definately believe he was in the wrong....the Hirsts were family friends of my aunty, uncle and cousins....however I also know as Ive grown up in Mildura and have done the same thing - walking on those dark roads out there....that is also partly why it happened. I stress again that the driver was 100% in the wrong...but it also could have happened regardless who was burning around that corner...pls Mildura teenagers - do not walk on the dirt , dark roads out in Shire Mildy.!!! It couldve been me and a group of 8 others after our VCE ball out near Irymple - we were doing the same thing!!!

Poor buggers. What an awful case, on every level.

The rule against considering prior history comes from the nature of jury trials; maybe it's time we reconsidered the utility, in some cases, of both.

Reverse bigotry, or why I'm really just a patriarchal pig

Reeling from a recent bollocking I received on a site I no longer frequent, I'm here to write about my feelings. Any comment that doesn't respect those feelings, which I am entitled to even though I'm merely a lock-step member of the patriarchy who can't escape that all-encompassing construct, will be deleted. But please put it there anyway, because having spent years being, if a bit contrarian, I would have thought at least 2/3 of the time a defender and advocate of most reasonable levels of feminist argument, I feel utterly let down and am completely in the mood to clean house and rethink friendships.

If that sounds grumpy, or over-the-top, so be it. I try to express emotions honestly on this site, which is a much a personal as a political space, and this is how I feel.

I react badly to attacks from my own, speaking in a broad political sense. I admit this isn't rational and may draw on emotions sourced in notions like mateship, team loyalty or group identity that most of the left, including myself, are adept at picking apart. But it is still there; the sense that being aimed in generally the same direction on a broad swathe of issues might build the social capital that allows for differences of opinion to be understood and respected.

The notion also has a downside in that significant disappointments in this regard leave me questioning everything. Isn't this small-mindedness, marginalisation, or bigotry, what I am devoting energy to ending? If it's equally prevalent on my 'side' am I just under a delusion?

It's a stupid, naive notion and this final straw will hopefully ensure I don't raise an eyebrow in future when someone ignores my subjective experience as an individual and casts me, because of my gender, race, sexuality, or any other reference point for bigotry, as the generic 'other' against which their own fiercely polemic narrative must assert itself.

The left has always found its fiercest antagonisms to be internal. It is the political manifestation of the narcissism of minor differences, the peculiar contempt we feel for those who want to do things similarly, but not the same, as us. So the Greens hate Labor Left, and vice versa, and Socialists can turn on each other with spiteful rage. And yet I don't know if I should even think of myself as close to some of the extremes of what is ostensibly my 'side' of politics.

To be fair, in return, I am more of a centrist with a leftward leaning- it isn't my place, per se, to centre my own views as the middle of the left, some sort of objective reference point. I quite like Petro Georgiou and Malcolm Fraser, finding my political locus is not straightforward. But that doesn't mean I have to eagery lap up the kind of 'reverse' bigotry that allows people to make assumptions about me merely because of the role biology handed me in the breeding process.

Offensive is implying someone must be selfish in "male" ways, such as taking up too much room on crowded trains, when all you know about them is what's between their legs.

Offensive is suggesting some marginal space like the games room is the automatic repository for any males who don't want to talk footy and watch strippers, implying your interlocutor must either suit one or the other. That's like saying "oh there's a women's space already, look, the sewing room!"

Offensive is allowing vastly different standards in respect of the type of behaviours- for example sitting with legs wide apart, having an aggressive presentation, or even reading porn, depending, again, on what's between the person's legs.

I've known so many women who have experienced some tangible, sometimes shocking, misery at the hands of my own gender. I can see the large proportion of males who wander around waving their metaphorical (or literal) crotches and no doubt confirming the perceptions of both patriarchy and ongoing violent threat that so many women identify. There IS a long way to go. So there is a fair amount I will suck up out of respect for that ongoing problematic, from taking steps not to walk behind women on dark roads at night, to tempering my language, volume, or physical bearing out of sensitivity for the numerous experiences and unpleasant potentials those things have the capacity to trigger in others' perceptions, however benign my own intent.

I'm not angry, sorry if the strong expression of feelings above suggests otherwise. I am offended though, and a bit sad, and I would simply like to ask that if you disagree with any of the things I listed as finding offensive above, you do not comment, and leave me alone from now on, because I can't face the disappointment I will feel when I realise where I stand in your judgement. I have desisted from ad hominem attack and avoided naming or linking in respect of the thread in question, populated as it is by people I still hold some affection and respect for. We simply have what might be called an irreconcilable difference.

I would be grateful for the same courtesy- I've HAD ENOUGH for this month, thanks.

Masterchef-uffle

The ultimate conflagration of the cliched structure of Idol and Dance, coupled with the abject crass rudeness of that English thug, fizzled in the middle, nicely articulated by the G-G:

I lasted 20 minutes before I switched off and went to the kitchen to microwave a cup of Continental Chicken Noodle Soup and a couple of yesterday's Krispy Kreme Donuts for supper.

Who cannot but be tempted by yesterday's Krispy Kremes?

Thoughts on swine, pandemics, and parenthood

Not surprised Doctors are sounding the alarm, global pandemic is considered by many to be the greatest threat to human security on the planet. Notably the UK:

An illustration of the major risks in the report suggests that electronic attacks on computer or communication systems and terrorist attacks are among the most likely threats, but would not have the widespread impact of a flu pandemic.

The Big One uses as its point of reference the so-called Spanish Flu of 1918-20, the pandemic equivalent (along with the more ghoulish but also distant spectre of the Bubonic Plague) of World War II. This is not irrational, and despite the advances in microbiology, general health and nutrition since the harsh years following the Great War there is no reason to think it couldn't happen again.

That flu had a (morbidly) fascinating effect of primarily hitting those we would expect to have the most resistance: young adults. Apparently this was due to causing an over-reaction in immune systems, so the stronger the immune system the more damage the disease caused- a cytokine storm.

The last I read about it Australian governments had bought out large stockplies of drugs and related flu management equipment, but this is earmarked for 'essential services' rather than widespread vaccination of the general populace. What the rest of us could hope to do is probably to make the call early enough and stay home, or run for the hills. Stockpiling, as much as it is reminiscent of cellars full of provisions for nuclear war, probably makes sense:

But Woolworths and Coles, the nation's two major supermarket chains, will run out of stock within two to four weeks without a supply chain – or even faster if shoppers panic.

This has prompted a team of leading nutritionists and dietitians from the University of Sydney to compile "food lifeboat" guidelines to cover people's nutritional needs for at least 10 weeks. Their advice – published in the Medical Journal of Australia – would allow citizens to stay inside their homes and avoid contact with infected people until a vaccine becomes available.

The lifeboat includes affordable long-life staples such as rice, biscuits, milk powder, Vegemite, canned tuna, chocolate, lentils, Milo and Weet-Bix...

We will likely be victims of our own society, the primacy of work and the difficulty we would cause for ourselves, and those who work with and rely on us, if each time a pandemic threatened we stayed home from the outset and battened down the hatches for a week.

If in doubt I have told Beloved I would like her to retreat to the family farm, up in the foothills of the Snowys, with the kids, before the rush, in that awful grey zone where the likelihood of a biological holocaust is becoming realistic, but the impact is not yet visceral enough to allow me, most of us worker drones, to lose the guilt and flee from our workstations.

Take me. Do not take my children.

UPDATE: a literary analogy that came to me while commenting at LP:

The awful quandrary could be likened to that of the townspeople in Everything Is Illuminated, hearing of the approaching SS and the tales of what was happening to Jews but, in most cases, unable to make such a stark call as to pack up their things and flee, until it was too late.

UPDATE II: Roxon reassures, we have almost 9 million doses of antiviral stockpiled. This must be reassuring for the mathematically ungifted.

UPDATE III: Rather less than amusing in Mexico.

UPDATE IV: Heightened risk of pandemic, says WHO.

Others: Robert at LP hopes we dodge the bullet. Bullet? So much worse.

ANZAC in a line

We're into distilling here in Armagnac country, so here's the ever-eloquent Nabakov (our Melbourne Nabakov of course) on ANZAC rememberance:

But risking your own arse to pull your mate out of a swamp of shell-stirred shit, blood and mud and then bullshitting to your cynical commanding officers about what happened is what this nation was really founded on.

Such good writing it needed to be repeated and embedded into the netosphere.

PJ O'Rourke distils it, serves it to his own in a snifter

A nutshell summary of the complex art, practised in particular by so many commercial lawyers, of structuring chalk to resemble cheese:

"Conservatives are champions of the free market, and the free market is based on transparency and the rule of law. Now for three decades, since Thatcher and Reagan, we conservatives have had the rule of law and the means of transparency in our hands and have handed the world a load of crap.

"There is a simple rule here, a rule of legislation, a rule of business, a rule of life: beyond a certain point complexity is fraud. You can apply that rule to left-wing social programs but you can also apply that rule to credit derivatives, hedge funds, all the rest of it," Mr O'Rourke said.

Well put PJ, let's start on 'tax advising' next.

'Mummy, you're a good mummy'

So said Bear as we sat eating breakfast. Beloved almost cried as she laughed. Bear is pushing boundaries and being a 2&abit, but there's no doubting she's got a big heart.

It's hard to be sure, but she may be acting out more now than she did when Mitt-Mitts first arrived. Long days fighting for the attention of a mum with an infant brother who needs feeding all the time, circled by angst-ridden cats and trapped in the modest confines of a townhouse that has what estate agents might euphemistically describe as 'low maintenance outdoor spaces', must take its toll. And not just on Bear.

Beloved is indeed 'a good mummy'; as I've mentioned before I remain in awe of her focus, staying power, and capacity for love under such pressure. Right now, I don't know how she does it. To see her holding Mitta on the boob with one hand and an open book with the other, reading to Bear, is to witness multi-tasking that would (or at least should) make Rudd's Chief of Staff wince.

She takes it in her stride, but her eyes show the tension of working constantly to maintain focus and sanity under such pressure and with so little sleep or support. I try, but working full time again means I just can't be present for the hardest bits.

As for Bear, well, she's doing ok but she lets us know. A girl is articulate and demanding, and balancing the need to push back and set boundaries with the need to reassure and give unconditional love is like removing ear wax from a sleeping moose.

(I have no idea where that simile came from, but I had to keep it.)

Last night she somehow crawled under her doona and woke to find herself trapped. She was screaming and shoving in all directions when I got to her room, head pressed against the side rail. She sobbed and sobbed with pulse racing as we stood there in the dark, my hugs and back-patting little consolation until Beloved arrived.

Sometimes reassurance can only come from a good mummy.

Mewling Malcolm needs to straighten his bat

Turnbull, I suspect, is not of the hardline group within the Liberal Party (and other right wing organs like News Limited) that want to beat up refugees at every opportunity. However he is presently allowing a virulent strand of security and fear driven attack to open up under his watch, getting the potential political mileage while personally 'distancing' himself from the detail.

So far all we get is a combination of salivating right wingers and a leader who says it is 'too easy' for those seeking asylum.

This is not good enough. His party, under his leadership, needs to have a coherent position, and in particular this needs to spell out: exactly what is it about the previous regime that they propose to reinstate?

Labor's policy is not soft- soft would be treating all asylum claimants as prima facie legitimate, respecting their freedom until given reason to do otherwise, providing them with ample resources and so on. Labor's policy is only soft in comparison with the policy employed by the Liberals when they were in power.

So what exactly does Turnbull want to reinstate? This very valid question popped up on Q&A last night but was not answered. Is it:

... The Pacific 'Solution'?

... Indefinite detention, sometimes lasting for years?

... Legitimising administrative error and neglectful misuse of power (this is what is effectively entailed by curtailing the ability to appeal)?

Malcolm, please answer. Which of these is needed so that the regime is no longer 'too' easy? If you don't want any of these awful regressions then show leadership, rein in your attack dogs, and let go of this one as a stick with which to beat, via the disenfranchised, the government.

At least Howard took direct responsibility for his unpleasant policies.

Queue-Jumping Boat People Are Flooding Our Shores!

Love those flood/water/tsunami metaphors, as the Australian wheels out the headline 'Rising tide of boatpeople'. A tide, a flood:

...49 suspected asylum seekers...

Shit, I better run home and lock up my wife and daughter.

...the sixth boat to arrive this year...

*stops breathing*

...a total of 276 unauthorised arrivals...

*skin turns clammy*

There have now been 455 unauthorised arrivals since the Rudd Government announced the changes last year.

There it is, the clincher, the underlying narrative being rebuilt for the grand purpose of domestic regime change- Labor is bad for your security and is going to let brown terrorists overrun our great land where beer flows and men plunder.

We have 6 figure immigration but 455 UNAUTHORISED arrivals is a crisis. Remind me again, after the last time we went down this path and victimised these desperate people, how many ended up being found to be legitimate refugees? I don't have the number in front of me* but I believe an accurate characterisation would be 'an overwhelming majority'.

So, let's have it again, if they are genuine refugees then their attempt to gain asylum is legitimate and legal.

And someone is snivelling along, betraying his claims to being smart and liberal as he lets his incoherent attack dog try to whip up the hysteria again:

Opposition foreign affairs spokeswoman Julie Bishop said the Rudd government had given a green light to people smugglers and put out the welcome mat for illegal migrants.

Come on Turnbull, surely even you draw the line at stooping this low...

* Wiki has "over 80%" as the figure, anything out there to contravene that?

Rosanna, Rosanna...

Once was young, once was freewheeling.

We live near one of Australia's coolest strips, and we love it- at least what we remember of the places we used to frequent. But with several years of on-and-off house watching under our belts, a second child, and a renewed love of trees and bicycle paths and streetscapes that don't look like they were intentionally designed to drive out all people under 14, things move on. Like my hairline, six pack, and dreams of doing anything useful with myself.

So, anyway, not for any good reason, but does anyone out there have a view on life in Rosanna, Heidelberg, Viewbank or Macleod?

Just asking.

I was converted first. Beloved- think she switched over as we were walking through one of several nice bands of parkland up there, kookaburras on branches, Bear warbling and running from tree to tree, bike paths linking playground with playground.

And pursuant to a little chat going on at Helen's, I don't mind the look of this or this either.

Boof!

Mittsa has had a further meeting with the blunt instrument known as our Maternal and Child Health Nurse. Joyously ours since Bear's birth, she's had many opportunities to gruffly accuse Beloved of 'you wiping baby bum too hard' (thrush, in fact) or 'no-one show you how to dress baby' (no-one, indeed, as this is partly the job of individuals like the Mat Nurse, together with not being a complete bitch who makes young mums feel like crap).

Anyway, she's soften slightly, perhaps amazed that we've managed to keep our kids alive this long, and has had little to argue with in respect of Mitts.

Over the 97th percentile for weight, and 90th for length and head circumferance. He's a boof!

But he's got a soft heart, with huge smiles for his dad and a penchant for big cuddles. Since birth he has seemingly attained a level of zen that he carries through the vicissitudes of the day, easily placated with a hug or a chat. He coos multi-syllabled dipthongs that get closer and closer to sounding like words, words that are wizzing around in daddy's head waiting for a match: da-dy, lo-ve oo, fay-vrite, car-dools.

Our moments are still too brief.