Public Address - Cracker (Home)

Of Tweets and Twats | Apr 20, 2009 12:12

The Sunday Star Times seemed a tad bi-polar yesterday didn't it? The front page, detailing Tony Veitch's latest alleged suicide attempt, with pleas from friends, family, professionals and Sara Chatwin to leave the guy alone, is followed up a with two of its star columnists, Michael Laws and Rosemary McLeod adding their own doubts on the subject of Veitch's mea maxima culpa. If the paper held any esteem for the advice from Chatwin, it certainly didn't show it.

I don't normally agree with much of what Laws says, but I thought he hit the nail on the head on Sunday. He expressed doubts about Veitch, but said he should be given a second chance and get on with his life.

Speaking of Laws, a weird post-script to my Twitter experiment turned up in the Business Herald on Friday. Unbeknownst to me, three bloggers – two of whom I'd never heard of until Friday, and a blubbery one I don't make a habit of reading, have apparently been giving themselves high fives and circle jerks for bringing about the end of my professional career and/or giving up Twitter.

Long story short: A couple of weeks ago after reading his ludicrous overreaction to the wHanganui debate, I sent an open tweet to a journalist saying I thought Michael Laws was a c***. According to these bloggers, that could spell the end of my employment. Fortunately my boss – a Mr D Christie – is pretty forgiving, and if he ever tried anything he would have a sexual harassment claim against him so fast…

Anyway, so when I decided to stop Twittering last week – I think anyone who read my initial post will realise I was a bit sceptical from the outset – these three took it as a personal victory, and the blubbery fellow even took it upon himself to mount my photo on his trophy wall.

Ironically, it took an old-fashioned newspaper article to alert me to all this on Friday. Actually it took someone saying "oh did you see you got a mention in the Herald?" I really must start consuming more media. Although it might have come to my attention quicker if any of these people could actually spell my first name properly – note to self: Must start self-Googling alternate spellings as well.

So a few points:

1. At least one of these bloggers seems to make the point that we "journos" don't know how social networking sites work. He then goes on to suggest that the person I SENT the message to (another journalist and vague acquaintance) should also lose his job over it. ¿Que?

2. Do I even need to point out how sad it is spending your Saturday nights trawling Twitter looking for people who are only vaguely more well-known than yourselves saying something vaguely controversial? One of these tweets simply says "Gotcha!" Oh dear.

3. Not to mention the hypocrisy in trying to expose people for speaking their mind - no matter how base - isn't that kinda the principle behind your work against the EFA?

4. The fact I had to Google two of these blogs on Friday to even find out who they were would suggest it's possible they didn't have much to do with my leaving Twitter. Maybe the fact I wrote all of three Tweets in the ten days before I quit would indicate I wasn't exactly a Tweeting duck to the water.

5. The entire idea is premised on the fact that I should be embarrassed for calling Michael Laws a c*** in a public forum. The Blubbery One has taken it upon himself to buy a few consonants, but that's okay, because for the sake of clarity, it was definitely that C word I had intended to use (rather than the one that ends in a k). I've made my views on Michael Laws pretty clear before, and if these bloggers follow my writing as closely as they follow my tweets, they'll know that. But since insincere public apologies are all the rage these days, let me say this:

I'm sorry that I called Michael Laws a c***. First, because c***s are beautiful and useful, not to mention fun and handy. Secondly, because thanks to Twitter, I wasn't able to add any more adjectives to clarify exactly what kind of c*** I think Michael Laws is. Words like wannabe-Machiavellian, kneejerk, pompous and reactionary all spring to mind as a start. And I genuinely hope at this time when things are getting a bit rough for him at home, he stops to consider the joke he made about the Kahui twins on national TV, and considers whether he'd do the same again.

Looking at his blog today, I find it odd the Blubbery One spends so much time attacking Rachel Glucina, when they clearly have so much in common – a love of bile, lack of social skills, literary ability, and a general hatred for anyone who's doing something they can't. At least she's finally found a way to get invited to those cool kids' parties she always pined over.

Dude, if it makes you feel hard (in any sense), you can leave me on your trophy wall – those times you've "been particularly successful in hobbling or destroying public careers". You've also claimed victories against everyone from Winston Peters to Steve Chadwick. I dare say none of these people know who you are, or what effect you claim to have had on them. Who's next, Richard Nixon? Leave me there though – it's okay, we both know the truth – but could you please correct the spelling?

That's it on this one, for me at least, but I'm sure they'll be panting about this elsewhere for weeks to come. No links are provided here but if you want to read more you can do what I did and Google it. Just remember to spell my name wrong.

I'm off to interview Steve Coogan now – can't wait – it'll be on the radio this weekend.

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Death Beach | Apr 15, 2009 15:29

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(In case you're interested, since my last post I have joined Twitter, followed about 100 people, been followed by approximately the same, got really, really bored and left. Well, by 'left' I mean 'stopped' because I don't want to lose my login to someone else for the reasons I gave in the last post.)

I had to work on Good Friday. I'm not one of those Christian cult-members, so it didn't bother me other than getting calls from friends who were clearly entertaining themselves with alcohol, but as soon as I was done, we jumped in the car and headed up north. Leaving late was a blessing, we avoided the 18km traffic jam caused by a motorcycle accident, and made the four hour journey in four hours. When there's no traffic, that new toll road is a doozy. As I guess it should be, for the Most Expensive Piece of Road Ever.

Easter tends to be like Labour weekend, doesn't it? Rain 'n' all that. And despite good forecasts, Friday wasn't looking like bucking the trend. But Saturday morning we got up and were welcomed by blue skies.

My aunt and uncle have a little bach at Tokerau Beach, which is a bit further north than Mangonui of the famous fish 'n' chips, a bit further north than Taipa, Coopers Beach, Cable Bay. North east from Kaitaia. Oh look, here.

Anyway, the bach isn't much, as baches shouldn't be, but it's a beautiful spot. Although it's now renamed 'Death Beach' because as we went for a walk (it's a very long beach, essentially offering the left-hand-frame for Doubtless Bay) we first stumbled across dozens of rotting snapper frames, which had clearly been filleted not very far out at sea, and quickly washed up. Then we almost trod on an Ex-Penguin. Then a large log covered in flies turned out to be a Former Seal. And finally (after quite a few more fish frames of varying shapes, sizes and species), a Used Stingray. Not quite the romantic morning beach stroll we were aiming for.

Saturday afternoon we drove further north, to visit friends in a gorgeous secluded spot called Henderson Bay (google it yourself if you're keen). Beautiful bush, bird life, stunning Martian like red-crusted sand dunes, and if I'd planned ahead, I reckon the diving would have been quite bountiful too. The water might have been a bit colder than at the height of summer, but it was so clear and inviting that I could resist having my first ever Easter swim in living memory. Later we fished unsuccessful from the rocks, rolled down sand-dunes and played table-tennis under the surprisingly scorching autumn sun.

I love being able to visit different parts of the country, and every time I make the effort I realise I don't do it enough. Fortunately we live in a country where many of us have the sort of access I'm talking about. I'm not rich and nor are my family; I don't own any land, but I have aunties and uncles who have a property here, an old holiday home there, and so do my friends. Even if you don't know anyone, so much of our country is beautiful and unspoilt and an easy car ride away, that you can go camping for a few dollars a night on DOC land, or hire a bach off-season at very reasonable rates.

That's all I have to say today: I heart Aotearoa, and Twitter is a waste of time – I love you Dubber, but I don't care what's happening at your conference – and I never, ever, ever will care if anyone I know (other than someone who is driving a vehicle I'm in at the time) is feeling sleepy and thinking of heading to bed. Oh, and despite what the unions and the cult-member-Christians say, it is a pain in the arse not being able to buy booze on Good Friday when you're up North and you want to get on it.

If you feel that reading this blog has been a waste of time, here's a link to some guys who have written a song about Samantha Hayes. She's going to be impossible after this.

And here's a link to an Australian musical comedian called Tim Minchin, who I saw at the Auckland Festival a wee while back and still think is awesomely funny and talented and intelligent and all those things good comedians should be. If you like this one it's worth trawling through the others on offer.

See those of you in Auckland at the drinks tomorrow.

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