Public Address - Cracker (Home)

Don and Dusted | Jan 28, 2004 13:20

1984, or thereabouts, I recall sitting in a closet with a flashlight, reading a book. At any moment I was going to get busted, and definitely, definitely get a hiding. The book was called What's Happening To Me? and as a 10 year old, it was possibly the rudest thing on the face of the Earth.

While I still don't understand a lot of what was in that book, a lot of it served me quite well over the coming years. I was able to anticipate what was about to happen, and duly note its arrival when it did. Hair in odd places – check. Deep voice – check. Interest in girls – check. That book, and its predecessor "Where Did I Come From?" were a great help to me, and I dare say many thousands of my generation.

Twenty years on, as I approach my 30th birthday, I'm wondering where to find the third in the trilogy. I've Googled and searched Amazon and ebay, even local heroes TradeMe have never heard of such a title. As I undergo some fairly dramatic changes, I'm forced to ask you, dear readers – has anyone got a copy of What the Hell?! I can borrow?

I have to say I'm not particularly concerned about turning 30. "Nor should you be", snort the like of Russell and Rob, "We turned 30 years ago, and it didn't do us any harm." True, true, the age itself doesn't faze me, it's the symptoms I'm worried about.

It's odd how unobservant the human mind can be when it wants to. When you're a kid, you don't notice anything for a bit, and suddenly one day, bang, there's a whole bunch of hair under your arms. Obviously it all grew there, slowly, one piece at a time, but you only decide to acknowledge it when it reaches some critical mass.

I think it's the same with turning 30. The signs have been there for a while. Bit thinner on top, bit thicker around the middle, headphones a bit louder, clothes a bit quieter. But it wasn't until the other day, driving to a friend's engagement party, reading a Freedom Furniture catalogue (I was in the passenger's seat), suggesting we stop in to look at the King's Plant Barn sale (40% off all ferns, you know) that it hit me. Somewhere along the line, I got old. Well, old-ish.

Anyway, more on that as the countdown to 30 continues (just under two months today)...

I don't know whether it's another symptom of ageing, or just being a news junkie, but part of me thought it was important I read the entire text of Dr Don Brash's "state of the nation" speech this morning.

To begin with, Don outlines his five key issues (declining income, welfare, education, law and order, Maori) and promises to speak on each. No doubt realising the paltry coverage a speech on "relatively declining incomes" would garner, Brash has decided to go straight for that political jugular favoured by his predecessor, the bloody mow-ries. Whether he has the will (or survives long enough), to deliver the other four speeches is anyone's guess.

As Brash himself notes, Maori culture, race relations, the treaty industry etc "are complex, highly sensitive, even emotionally charged" issues. Having acknowledged this however, Brash then intentionally oversimplifies, plays on sensitivities, manipulates emotions, and generally helps cement the divisiveness he is highlighting. Fairly standard stuff, and as Act's Ken Shirley notes in a press release this morning, it's "what ACT has been saying since its inception 10 years ago."

I'm not going to go through Brash's speech line by line, but here are a few points that stuck out for me:

Over the last 20 years, the Treaty has been wrenched out of its 1840s context and become the plaything of those who would divide New Zealanders from one another, not unite us.

Erm yes. Such as any politician wanting to make cheap political mileage by playing on the fears of Pakeha?

…where people who weren't around in the 19th century pay compensation to the part-descendants of those who were…

This is a great line, and really sets the tone for the speech. It plays on a couple of sentiments widely-held by Talkback Callers:

First, it wasn't me who ripped Maori off back in the day, so why should I pay to put it right? I'm sure you don't need me to draw a picture for you, but if someone steals your car, and gives it to their son or daughter, does that make it okay?

The second part is that great honky stand-by "there aren't any full-blooded Maori left anymore anyway, are there?" I shouldn't need to even touch that one.

…But in fact Maori income distribution is not very different from Pakeha income distribution…It is the bottom 25 per cent of Maori, most of them on welfare, who are conspicuously poor. They are no different to Pacific Islanders or other non-Maori on welfare; it's just that there is a higher percentage of them in that category.

I might be missing something here – and I stress I'm open to correction – but can anyone else spot the contradiction? Is Brash saying that while there are more poor Maori than anyone else, the fact that poor Maori are only as poor as poor Pakeha means it's okay? Anyone?

Brash then goes on to list a number of areas where Maori historically have done well, or at least done as well as Pakeha. They got the vote, (well sort of), and "by the 1930s, they possessed equal rights of access to state assistance, be it pensions or subsidised housing loans or access to education".

Of course Brash doesn't feel it necessary to mention in any detail the many injustices visited against Maori over the past 150 years, the 1908 Tohunga Act which essentially banned Maori practising their religion being just one example. It doesn't really help his message, does it? He instead glosses over it, with the summary:

Let me be quite clear. Many things happened to the Maori people that should not have happened."

For Dr Don, clarity is apparently next to godliness:

Let me make it quite clear. National is absolutely committed to completing the settlement of historical grievances.

…those are the grievances you talked about before then, committed by people who are now dead to people who aren't even real Mow-ries?

In many ways, I am deeply saddened to have to make a speech about issues of race.

…and if National weren't languishing so low in the polls, I wouldn't have had to stoop to this…

The indigenous culture of New Zealand will always have a special place in our emerging culture, and will be cherished for that reason.

…and brought out for tourists and at state functions.

But we must build a modern, prosperous, democratic nation based on one rule for all.

And anyway, you'll always have Rotorua...

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Out for a Duck | Jan 14, 2004 11:05

If the rest of 2004 is anything like the past two weeks have been, I'm going to be a happy, happy camper.

New Years and the couple of days immediately before and after were spent at Hicks Bay. About ten minutes drive or so from the East Cape lighthouse, you can find it on a map by looking at the eastern most point of New Zealand. A dozen of us were invited to stay at a friend's farm there, and so off we went.

A warning to any other residents of Tamaki Makaurau thinking of heading down that way – it's a bloody long drive. It's longer than from Auckland to Wellington, especially taking into account the inevitable car crash near Maramarua – now as entrenched in the New Zealand Christmas as blossoming pohutakawa and Interislander strikes.

The roads there redefine "long and winding"; McCartney would've had a field day. No doubt picturesque as all hell, but unfortunately something we couldn't appreciate, given it was pissing down the whole way, and completely dark for the last hour or two.

The next morning the sky had cleared, somehow taking with it the farm's supply of running water. No showers? Aucklanders all, we looked at each other nervously, and collectively fumbled for our car keys, cellphones and an AA guide to the nearest hotel. Luckily for everyone concerned, there is no such thing as a "nearest hotel" in Hicks Bay. We decided to bathe in the river instead.

From that moment on, there was no looking back.

The weather was phenomenal. The scenery was spectacular, with great beaches, beautiful rivers and streams and more native bush than you can shake a punga branch at.

We had hangi and hongi, huhu and kina, bareback horseback riding and drank Steiny talls with toothless locals at the nearby pub. We were taken to a secret bubbling mud lake and sloshed around in same until covered from head to toe in a treatment the ladies of Parnell would pay a fortune for. We went to bed late each night with a belly full of beer, and woke up far too soon after as our tents became unbearably hot in the East Coast sun. Damn it was fun.

After all that, it was with no small trepidation that I returned to Auckland and checked my email. Not surprisingly, there was a huge amount of feedback to my last post, in fact more so than for anything I've written to date. I'm pleased to report it was overwhelmingly positive. With an issue like this, people invariably come out of the woodwork with their own stories of woe, and this was no exception.

Over the years the businesses owned by the dynamic duo of Deborah Coddington and Alister Taylor have 'touched' a lot of people, and for many their experiences are now squarely in the 'bad touch' category (and no, I'm not inferring they've molested anyone). I've begun receiving emails from writers and customers alike, alleging unsatisfactory dealings. Some of these are historical, and fairly well-documented, others I simply have my correspondents' word on which to rely.

One email that really struck a chord with me, was from a couple who had paid for a book, but not yet received it. I should note that as this situation occurred in 2002, it is likely that Coddington had extracted, or at least begun to extract herself as a shareholder and director of the company(s) concerned. However I can say that these customers' allegations are very similar to those I dealt daily as an employee of NZ Who's Who in 1996, when Deborah Coddington was very much a director and shareholder…

"Mr T has had $ 145.00 of ours since 18 June 2002.Payment for a copy of a NZ WHO'S WHO for delivery December 2002. Still not to hand although a letter 0f August 2003 said they would be despatching November 2003. No reply to emails, phone messages and fax."

…and then this update a few days later:

"Since I sent you the first email on Mon 29 Dec I have spoken to a Peter Corbett who describes himself as an Editorial Assistant to Alistair Taylor... Corbett said that the despatch had now been delayed until 29 April 2004. He said he did not know why there was this further delay. I explained to him that the letter of August 2003 gave November as a despatch date. He said that he was not directly involved in the Who's Who publication? He also confirmed that G Griffith who had signed an earlier letter, and who we had spoken to, had left the company."

I advised this couple, and I advise anyone else out there in the same situation, to write to Deborah Coddington, MP, c/- Parliament advising her of their predicament. Sure, she's ostensibly not involved with the company any more, but as an MP she has a duty to help her constituents (and as a List MP, everyone's a constituent, really), and she's probably the best placed MP in the country to do so. Remember, no stamp required.

I've also been contacted by other MPs and mainstream journos, all wanting to hear a little more of the story. A couple of respondents noted Act's differing treatments of their Great White Hope vs Donna Awatere Huata. The latter is hung out to dry before given a fair hearing in the courts, while Deborah receives full support from the leadership on down. Granted, Act were probably looking for an excuse to ditch the Awatere Albatross, but one wonders how long before the party realises that its Little Yellow Duck of Freedom is in fact treading water in a Sea of Shit.

So it looks as though Deborah Coddington is in for quite the annus horribilis, poor lass. To borrow phrases from radionzbias, "an observer" and "acquaintance" tell me the family home in Remmers might even be put up for sale to clear the backlog of unpublished books. Oh dear. Quite the turnaround from those heady days of the early nineties when "an observer" informs me Coddington and Taylor were known around Auckland as 'Bonnie & Clyde.' What do chickens sound like when they come home to roost, anyone? Anyone?

Anyway, that's enough of all that nastiness. Until this story develops a bit more – and with the people now involved, you can guarantee it will – I'm going to sink back down into my private mudpool and covet that shawl I nicked so many years ago…my preccccioussss.

Happy New Year everyone, and thanks again for your overwhelming support and feedback. Keep it coming.

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How the Grinch stole my Christmas | Dec 24, 2003 15:45

Ohhh, the claws are out.

I was sitting down to write a nice summery post about Xmas and the spirit of the season. I had another piece ready to go about public radio, but thought it a little weighty, and anyway, the stats show that people only read this blog during office hours, so it seemed a little wasted.

Then I was alerted to a post… about me. Unusually, it wasn't written by me, as most stuff on the topic of Damian Christie tends to be. At least then it would have been vaguely amusing, if still largely fictional.

Over the years, working in various forms of media, I've never quite worked out how to deal with personal attacks. Unlike true public figures, I'm not subject to them often enough to have a system all worked out. So, I take approach each on a case-by-case basis.

There are some questions you always have to ask though. Do I acknowledge it? Do I respond, or let it run its course, without adding either fuel or water to the fire. In the past I've tended to do the latter, rather than invoke a further response and just drag…it….out.

But, as I was just emailing someone who'd sent me feedback today, words on the Internet are about as close to etched in stone as we have these days, what with stone not really being a popular contemporary medium any more. And if someone's going to have a big, fat, hairy fictitious go at me, then goddammit, I'm going to have my two cents worth too!

I'm not going to link to it, though. Given the huge traffic that comes through publicaddress [thanks to all of you too, 'you've been a great audience'] the last thing I want to do is link to some half-arsed site and give them a whole lotta readers they haven't done squat to deserve, other than slag me. Again, this is the Internet though, and those of you who care enough can no doubt track it down.

Which is NOT to say I'm embarrassed one jot by what has been said. So I'll quote big chunks of it for your reading pleasure…

It all stems from my last post, in which I took a swipe at Act for being all over the place when it comes to certain socially liberal issues, such as pot and prostitution. In particular I criticised an article by Act MP Deborah Coddington. Not the done thing, apparently.

I wondered at the time whether I should have mentioned the fact I'd worked for Coddington in the past. The whole 'declaring one's interests' thing. It didn't seem especially relevant to the debate, though, and aside from calling her thinking 'muddled', which from time to time it demonstrably is, I didn't want to be accused of a personal attack.

I'm also wondering how much light to shed on things now. While I'm left in no doubt from whence the bile finds its source, when the attacker is an anonymous blogger, one has to be careful. Also, certain revelations on my part, regardless of their truth, could lead me up a litigious path I have neither the money nor energy to defend. I will choose my words carefully.

If you've read down to here, I guess you want to see what they wrote :) Here's the bulk of it, minus the preamble… It's called "Why Damian Christie cannot take his medicine"

Damian Christie was madly in love/lust with Deborah Coddington.

The boy had it bad...

One observer said that he would cuddle Deborah's shawl when she'd gone home! He was sure he was going to get her to reciprocate. He even emptied the rubbish bin one day after she'd been sick into it because Lindsay Perigo ordered him to, and he asked Deborah Coddington to leave him a certain black dress when she dies.

Oh dear.

An acquaintance of both parties says Damian has got quite some nerve attacking the MP after she let him stay in her house rent free, loaned him her cars, and generally looked after him when Radio Liberty crashed.

Whatever happened to common courtesy?

"Observer"? "Acquantaince"? If nztabloid.com weren't closed, I know that's the first place you'd be looking for the story.

I did, indeed used to work at Radio Liberty with Deborah Coddington and Lindsay Perigo. I was their producer. Back then, even in her 40s, Deborah was bit of a looker. Although, I must add, even eight years ago she never looked as good as the photo accompanying her Liberty Belle column would have you believe. I guess that's a woman's prerogative.

So at age 21, a young eager recruit to the Libertarian stable, did I fancy Coddington? Sure, why not? She's a strong, confident woman, and that's always an attractive quality.
But am I a closet shawl cuddler? Er, no. Did I empty a bucket of rubbish bin she'd vomited in because Lindsay Perigo ordered me to? Not that I can recall, although even if that were true, Perigo was my boss, wouldn't one file that under "following orders" rather than "has vomit fetish"? As a bar manager I've also bailed out flooded urinals and stuck my (gloved) hands into clogged toilets – what sort of pervo does this make me?

And yes, Deborah and I were pals for a time. I house-sat for her and her partner Alister Taylor when they were away on holiday. It's usually considered a reciprocal arrangement, house-sitting. Hardly "stay in her house rent free", but whatever. I had the use of her Volvo during that time too. Sue me.

What my attacker has neglected to add, when looking at the "common courtesy" I should therefore extend (presumably by never criticising an MP whose house I sat for a week eight years ago), is how our 'relationship' ended. Choosing my words carefully…

After Radio Liberty collapsed, I went to work for a publishing company owned by Deborah Coddington and her defacto husband Alister Taylor. The company is largely engaged in what is known as "vanity publishing". If you've done something vaguely worthy of recognition (i.e. Auckland Harbourmaster, 1972-74), they'll track you down, ask you for some biographical information so they can put you in a book of "Who's Who". Oh, and by the way, would you like to buy a copy?

Coddington and Taylor have been in the press lately for all the wrong reasons. This story by the Sunday Star Times' Jonathan Milne sums up pretty nicely what's what, as does this later story from NZPA. Allegedly, people paid for books which in many instances failed to turn up. Some people are reported to have literally died waiting.

As Milne's piece notes, Coddington was involved in Taylor's business as, but now is going to great lengths to distance herself from his allegedly dodgy dealings. It may seem odd to attentive readers that while the general public was alerted to Taylor's business practices as far back as 1991 [Du Chateau, Carroll 1991a, 'Alister Taylor's back in town', Metro, Aug., pp.71-87], Coddington took nearly a decade longer to get the heads up.

Here are some of the choicest parts of the sixteen page[!] Metro article. Unfortunately it's not available on line, but I'll happily scan it and email it to anyone who wants to see it. It's all a matter of public record, and as the author of The Paedophile and Sex Offenders Index, Coddington can hardly object, can she?

While he and his partner Deborah Coddington flew to the Frankfurt Book Fair, the authors of the books they were selling there were often broke.

Deborah Coddington blames Paul Greene for Taylor's eventual downfall. Late last year lunchtime habitués of Rosini's in High Street were entertained when Coddington approached Green and hissed 'Are you still sending people bankrupt, Green?' before stalking off.

Greene is furious too. 'Taylor was capable of the most extraordinary deception,' he says. 'Take the Goldie books. Alister said they'd completely sold out, when there were 50 stashed away at the Old Post Office… which Deborah said were hers.'

What neither Taylor nor Coddington seemed to realise was that their lavish lifestyle looked very bad through the eyes of the hard-up writers and illustrators… [the] constant assurances about the cheque being in the mail and the book being out next week were wearing thin. Both Taylor and Coddington now drove a Mercedes.

Authors were always ringing up to find out how their books were going. The basic strategy was to butter them up and stall, stall, stall.

[After Taylor was bankrupted] How come copyrights and properties thought to belong to Alister Taylor Publishing were owned by Deborah Coddington? Hadn't Taylor told the creditors' meeting that "Alas, we are no longer together?

While I wasn't exactly enamoured by some of my own experiences within the business, I'm not going to go into it, because it's too long, too boring, and too fraught with legal minefields. However I will say that parts of the comprehensive Metro article, again written years before I came onto the scene, and more than a decade before Taylor's recent dramas, struck a chord with me.

I will also tell you how my involvement with Coddington and Taylor came crashing down. No, I wasn't caught sniffing Coddington's shawl… I wouldn't make that mistake twice.

Fairly out of the blue, Coddington confronted me one day. She accused me of dobbing Alister in to the IRD. I hadn't - the IRD aren't exactly my best friends either - and anyway, I wasn't privy to the company's financial affairs, let alone anything (allegedly) untoward. Apparently I'd also sabotaged their computers while I was housesitting. Of course, that's the sort of thing I'd do, spiteful little man that I am.

But anyway, bugger evidence, due process, or in fact any general rule of law or decency, that was me down the road. To the best of my recollection, Coddington's exact words as she sent me packing from the business she was most certainly involved with at the time: "You'll never work for a company I'm a director of again!"

Always one for a spot of drama, old Coddington.

So that's what happened.

Right. Phew. Exhale.

This is SO NOT the piece I wanted to write on Xmas Eve. In fact, this is SO NOT the piece I wanted to write at all. Sure, you can now say I've only written this because I'm pissed off about being fired for no reason eight years ago. Wouldn't that have been a better accusation in the first place? "Damian attacks Act because Deborah Coddington once fired him"? Doesn't quite have the same "nice old lady" spin to it I guess…

The anonymous blogger responsible for forcing my hand might want to consider whether outing me as a scarf-sniffer was really the best response to my previous post. It's particularly strange given the supposedly niche focus of their blog. I would have thought also that the "sources" and "acquaintances" referred to would have learnt that Pulling a Mike King is not particularly wise in terms of PR and damage-control. Again, I didn't want to write this post, but call me a bucket o' vomit emptier and you bring it on yourself. Dicks. I can "take my medicine", cheers. Can you?

Oh well. Today dear readers, as we wind up for the holidays, you can honestly say you've learnt two things. You've gleaned a little bit more about Act MP Deborah Coddington's involvement as a shareholder and director in an allegedly dodgy publishing company that she's now trying to distance herself from. And you've learnt about my passion for pashmina. I hope both serve you well this holiday season.

Merry Xmas. Drive safe.

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The Act Party: Hookers & Drugs | Dec 19, 2003 17:06

I don't know who writes ACT MP Muriel Newman's press releases, but they're on to a winning formula. My favourite titles to date:

"Stop Beating Around The Child Support Bush"

"The Grinch who stole hard-working families' Christmas" [Steve Maharey, FYI]

Not to be beaten on the cliché front, Heather Roy has a nice little think-piece called "Has Political Correctness Really Gone Mad?"

And then on Tuesday, this little beauty:

"ACT New Zealand Justice Spokesman Stephen Franks today expressed a fervent hope that Santa does not slide down a chimney to deliver presents, and come face to face with one of the 242 inmates being granted early release for Christmas."

I don't even know where to start on that one.

I've been puzzling this year over the direction in which ACT has been heading, and I'm not alone. In the early days the party had some sort of cohesive direction, founded as it was on the work of Sir Roger Douglas. Its positions were clear. But it's funny what Parliament can do. Within one term Sir Roger was rumoured to be unhappy with his acolytes, particularly with those responsible for putting together its muck-raking scandal sheet 'The Goss'. Not the sort of thing a Knight of the Realm would expect from his chosen few.

These days the muck is left largely unraked, but the principles the party was founded on are even less visible than before. There has always been a tension inside the party between the socially liberal and the socially conservative. While some Act staffers smoked pot on the front steps of Parliament after the Voluntary Student Membership Bill passed (I was with them, but didn't inhale), and others placed advertisements in the NORML News during the last elections, the party hasn't come out either way on the cannabis issue.

Given the policy statement on Act's website "That individuals are the rightful owners of their own lives and therefore have inherent freedoms and responsibilities," you'd think their cannabis policy would be a gimme. But a search reveals nothing.

I'm not the first to have noticed the silence, either. I called Act HQ. "No firm policy" was the response. It would come down to a conscience vote, apparently. Obviously ACT's "individual responsibility" only goes so far as to allow its MPs to make up their own minds whether you should be able to get high. Interesting huh?

The prostitution issue resulted in a similarly confusing stance. Deborah Coddington wrote in her ironically titled "Liberty Belle" column why the Prostitution Reform Bill wasn't a good idea.

It's fairly typical of Coddington's muddled thinking (more on the hotly debated "Saving/Supporting Public Radio" later).

Yes, as someone who holds liberty as the ultimate value, I do believe that sex between consenting adults is private and the state should in no way intrude. But let's deal with this issue in context. We're talking here about prostitution and I think that's different from the act of two adults making love to each other.

There are those who argue trading sex is the same as any other commercial transaction. I can't agree with that. For starters, we're not allowed to do it in public.

Correct me if I'm wrong, and you probably will, but is she arguing that because you can't do it in public, it shouldn't be viewed as a commercial transaction? Five things off the top of my head that you can't do in broad daylight, but can quite legally pay for:

Stripping
Pretty much any surgery
Embalming
Mare servicing
Developing photos

Coddington goes on: "We also have good taste and decency laws governing the promotion of sex…"

So because we have laws about it, we shouldn't decriminalise it? Did anyone say muddled?

And if selling sexual intercourse to a willing purchaser is no less moral than selling a haircut, then answer me this: Why do so many prostitutes get hooked on drugs because to try and survive mentally they must psychologically remove themselves from the reality of what they're doing?"

I think the real question is why do so many drug users turn to prostitution? Because drugs are expensive, and prostitution can be quite lucrative. Maybe if drugs weren't illegal? It's a chicken and egg argument. I've known a lot of people in jobs involving odd working hours or huge deadline pressures, who develop speed habits in order to stay up and get the job done. What should we do about that? Ban the hospitality industry? Outlaw commercial film shoots?

And then, the compelling:

Around 70 per cent of sexworkers... were sexually abused as children, and many of them began their life on the game before they turned 16. I'm prepared to accept there are a very small number of informed, educated, emotionally stable hookers who chose their careers for fun and high financial returns. But they're the exception and I'm concerned about the pattern.

So because a woman has been sexually abused, she should forgo the right to make her own decisions? And those that are informed and educated, and emotionally stable? Just too bad, it would seem, you're not the majority, so your individual rights go out the door. Quite the lover of liberty, this Liberty Belle.

Perhaps Act should update its central policy statement as such:

"That individuals [other than those who have been sexually abused as children, those that are informed, educated and emotionally stable but represent the minority of any group, and anyone who wants to smoke pot] are the rightful owners of their own lives and therefore have inherent freedoms [other than those that are already prohibited by law, because they're illegal] and responsibilities."

I was a bit wary to wade into the debate over Deborah Coddington's Saving/Supporting Public Radio report. However, now that I've taken the time to read all 44 self-serving pages of it, I feel obliged to write something. Not today though. It's Friday afternoon and all this writing is making me thirsty.
_________________

Postscript: I've since been informed that despite the above Liberty Belle article, Ms Coddington ended up voting for the prostitution reform bill. Of the Act MPs, 4 voted for, 4 against, and Richard Prebble did not vote. I think rather than proving me wrong, this only serves to underline the split and inconsistency within the "party of principle" that is ACT New Zealand. Cheers.

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