Thanks to those who wrote in about one of last weeks post, it was good to get some positive replies to me waxing lyrical. Especially after a friend here read it, and asked when I’d become a ‘glue smoking homo’.
It ain’t easy being button-pushing bureaucrat you know. There’s all these countervailing pressures in play between wanting to engage in political debate, keep your head down, and still reach into one’s ‘artistic soul’. Ah well.
On the great news front though, I’ve gone and set myself up for a little embarrassment by scheduling a talk up at Victoria University. As part of the final jumping through hoops process over at Melbourne, I need to have presented the Thesis at least once in the past year. I got in touch with the kind people at the Politics department, and they’ve kindly loaned me a seminar room to sit and act the intellectuel bogàn.
Naturally no one will be expecting extensive preparation time, flashy powerpoint presentations or booming oratory, but it will be interesting to have to try and explain all the crazy ‘stuff’ that’s been gradually trying to escape by brain and onto my shoulders (from where it makes a pathetic dash for freedom). Normally of course I just pass it off as bad dandruff.
All the same, high noon on Tuesday will see anxiety producing sweaty palms and a shifty gaze in Che. Academic career? History.
This means that things are coming along nicely. As of just after the election I pass from short-term contract hell into a permanent slot here in the Public Service.
It’s not as bad as it sounds.
For one thing they’re paying me a respectable but not ludicrous amount of money, with which I intend to pay off years of accumulated debt (including but not exclusive to my student loan). They offer me a desk somewhere and high-speed internet with which to expand my knowledge of the job I’ve given, and never cyber-clack. And being a newbie I’m bound to end up with a glorious view of an internal meeting room. Or maybe a vending machine. It’s all good though.
But by far the best outcome will be the setting aside of a small amount of cash to go away next year to some place likely to badly sunburn me.
I’m thinking that with global warming well on the horizon I’ve only got a few years before half of the Pacific Islands disappear underwater, so I’d better get out there and do some decent diving before it’s too late. Hopefully, the locals will take my tourist dollars and put it towards some real estate here or in Australia where they can go live when their homes are drowned.
Having said that, I just realised that jet travel is one of the great polluters behind farty animals, hydro-power schemes in tropical climates, and cars. Maybe I can sail to Rarotonga? Wouldn’t that be nice… almost as good as the Bacon and Banana Pancakes at Fidels on Cuba, but I can’t laze around in the sun eating brunch for four weeks can I?
Actually, here’s a question someone might be able to answer me. Everyone is all freaky about cars producing CO2. But how much CO2 is produced by a billion Indians all breathing in, and out. And in, and out?
Yup, asking the BIG QUESTIONS here at Club Politique.
Might be time to cut back on a bit of the American beef taking up all that valuable oxygen to make a little more room for the Indian hot air.
Oh! And speaking of which, what with the Public Service Code of Conduct effectively hamstringing my ability to make large and potentially inflammatory comments about complete fools like Peters (note the way he likes Asian food. In Asia. Not here where it might foul his hot air. And Winston, you’d never make it in a kitchen. You are too much of a frickin ‘cat’), there’s a good chance the title of this blog may well have to change.
The main suggestion so far has been ‘Alterantively’. It’s likely this title will most reflect my commentary style anyhow…
Any complaints can be directed to the button below. It may take 8 to 10 working days to receive a reply. Thank you for your cooperation.
PS. If you do need to take a little break at work, watch this.