Here in New Zealand the outgoing government were looking for love but they took us for sex workers. Plenty of Kiwi’s assumed the position but for me I just couldn’t get it up.
It’s all great ongoing theatre, ideology on the roulette wheel, our held beliefs on high rotate. I did my bit and voted. I hummed n’ haaa’d.
I really love immigrants, our new Kiwi’s — sharing New Zealand with the world, and I thought CatMan was onto it with his wealth tax and other levellers.
I loved the young red smarts emerging on the starboard bow.
In the end I rooted for Green, they needed all the help they could get.
And now the King has anointed 3 shiny new biro’s for the pocket protector. Black, red and green.
We’re going to be taking notes so line up, single file.
No chit chat, and leave plenty of space in the margin cos there’ll be a test at the end.
On cue the media are going tits-up.
With the circus readying the stage, they all want a ringside seat.
Some of them comfortably turncoating, others, puff daddy’s fronting their own flavor of panicked conjecture.
Where would we be in this age of anxiety without the town cryers howling doom.
Guys I gave at the office, try again next week.
There’s some dumb-as star bellied Howlers out there. You know the ones, they pretend to tell it like it is, whatever that means.
They take what they’re fed by their tribal source, repackage and further spin the feed with aggregated bad juju.
I pick them as under-informed, smug, imprinted, dull or too lazy to dig deeper. They’re not seeing the long game. Or they’re pathologically mean.
Benefit of the doubt, I’ll give them the former.
Homework tonight: read some Chomsky. You don’t do academics ? Try serious funnyman Russell Brand.
If you are a person that buys what mainstream media have dished out for the last 30–40 odd years, then you might be confused right now. You should be. More’s the worry if you’re not. Just give it time cos you soon will be.
Those of us that worked for TVNZ affectionately called our workplace the DeathStar. Vending our truth to your living room like Meth dealers. TV, the heartbeat of the Boomers, calibrating our minds, rights and wrongs, and setting our value/s … but that’s another blog.
Back to our new governments 2IC, and more to the point his ‘don’t blame me’ portent. Like it or not, King Biscuit is right, and it won’t matter who’s on the helm.
Latest indices, even The Economist, are suggesting world financial markets are priming to do another πrsquared pole dance of a ‘correction’ … love that clinical phrase — so get ready for GFC2.
US stock markets are again overheated, only this time bigger stakes and no wiggle room left. No hiding behind the pews brethren.
I love the hedged duplicity of The Economist. It pays a dollar both ways, playing the rocksteady scribe, tipping it’s hat to the worst of the world’s financial terrorists, positioning itself as saviour of the developing world and well, everyone. It tries to be honest in a Steven Joyce kind of way.
That none of their articles are ever credited by the authors, makes The Economist a perfectly faceless entity. So in keeping with the upper echelons of the financial world.
I guess if you put your name to some of that stuff you’d be boiling your smalls in the motel jug by sundown. Run baby run.
They will do what they can, our new leaders, with what is maneuverable.
You can’t undo 30 plus years of on the make with a few ideological shifts.
But it’d be ill advised to not make a start.
Positing a revised narrative is healthy, and I’m hearing some of the soundest words we’ve had at the helm for some time.
You know NZ has had socialism for decades ?
National’s Muldoon the biggest of them all, and putting a human face to capitalism is pretty sensible stuff. Even Morrinsville has socialism.
Love those farming subsidies.
Any of us thinking this through will likely get it. If not, book in more thinking time. Gently does it mind, keep the Xanax close.
Anyway, little old price-taker NZ … b4 too long we’ll all be taking one for the team, pop goes the weasel on the housing market — and then maybe we can have a lie down.
Of course growing numbers of us already are, in a bus shelter.
Government issue rescue remedy and a copy of Steinbeck for all combatants.
Just so there’s no surprises, picture a day when Countdown no longer puts out. How are your kumara beds coming on, have you planted out your front lawn and berms as well as the back yard ? Plenty of community garden working bee’s in your diary?
My diary screams at me Must Do Better.
Like lots of us, my relationship with food is largely an eftpos card. I can pick my teeth with it but I can’t eat it. Such helpless dependence.
I see growing numbers of us hunting and gathering for ways to provide food and shelter, once known as having a job. It won’t be comfortable, it’ll just be what it is. We’ll see a ‘correction’ re what we do with our time. For some, that’s already present tense.
The next generation will view ownership as 50 shades of grey.
For those currently struggling to feed their little ones and elderly, let alone themselves, it becomes bottom line black n’ white.
When the Berlin wall came down, one of the knock-on effects was Cuba’s food security. Having been dependent on The Soviet Union for supplies — food, diesel, petrol etc, the nation began to starve. In the mid 1990’s they mostly hand dug all tillable land and planted crops. All hands to the pump when needs must. It worked and the populace began putting back on the bodyweight they’d lost.
Lets hope we don’t starve as a people anytime soon, but keep an eye on it folks, sharpen your garden tools and keep fit.
Back to our new political leadership.
Santa doesn’t have a magic sack. Take the brown acid and you might wish for miracles … loaves and fishes, but I’m thinking probably not.
Expecting our leaders, old and new to make it all better is a copout.
We’re the leaders.
It’s up to us, our community — however we define that, to see us through the long game. Not this or that elected official.
Now — are we capable? — given decades of everyman for himself.
If we compete with each other tooth n claw then we’ll perish.
If we work as a small but growing collective in the South Pacific, as my parents and their peers did coming out of WW2, we could be in with a chance.
And this is the real value in our change of leadership … the change of narrative, as the human face of economics gets a spin on the dance floor.
Not just your or my human face, but everybodys, including mother natures.
60’s Civil rights writer James Baldwin noted “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”
For those of you taking notes, here’s the test I promised.
What leadership role, irrespective of size, do you intend taking?