Friday 31 August 2012
It is many weeks since I wrote my last post. The only reason for this is because I'm currently living out of boxes. Utterly consumed by the need to find a new home I'm therefore spending every waking hour either online-searching or foot-searching. Been going on for months it has!
Somewhere...sometime soon I hope...someone will agree to allow me to live with my Assistance Hearing Ear Dog.
But that is NOT what this post is about. I was all fired up...ready to serve it up to the Real Estate Rental Market when along comes...Mr Alan Jones.
Oh Mr Jones! May I quote my 3 year-old Granddaughter who, on being told of your latest remark today solemnly said: 'Nanna why does he say silly things?'
This is my letter to you Mr Jones...on behalf of my Granddaughters.
Dear Mr Jones
I am finding it incredibly difficult to write this letter to you…not, I hasten to add because I don’t know what to say…but simply because my fingers are laughing at you. Yes – laughing.
Mr Jones…I know that fingers don’t normally laugh or write blog posts independent of the mind they’re attached to…but mine DO. They’re utterly ill-disciplined, wilful, spoilt-brat-disgraceful digits trying to make me write all sorts of truthful but unwise-to-say things about you.
There! Fingers and urges under control now.
Would that you could do the same with your tongue.
“Women are ‘destroying the joint’” are they Alan? Wow! You’ve got us all on edge now haven’t you. We’re all getting ourselves into a rage because of you aren’t we.
Wrong. We’re laughing at you. Yes – laughing. And my two Granddaughters aged 3years and 19 months are laughing hardest.
They’re laughing Alan, because they are Hell-bent on doing exactly as you say. They are going to ‘destroy the joint’ all right and they’re going to tell you how.
But first of all…because you write/rage/ogle or simper with no thought or reason other than to attract attention (that no one on this planet would otherwise give you)…let us define our Terms:
When we emerge from a mother’s womb Alan (distasteful enough subject eh? well there’s worse to come) we arrive not with a tail between our legs but one of two options:
1. An Opening (Oh dear! A female I hear you say?)
2. A Dangly Bit (Yay! A male)
Now given that you are prone to Openings of any sort other than human female ones – the posher the better - it seems surprising that you so favour the Dangly Bits. But favour them you do.
My Granddaughters do not have Dangly Bits and therefore they are behind your Eight Ball even before they (Heaven forbid) meet you.
While it can mean any manner of things in our marvellous vernacular from Weed to Home Sweet Home, ‘The joint’ as you see it Alan...is this great country of ours called Australia.
The fact is that Australia was first and foremost occupied by men, women, tribes and families…but that’s incidental to you isn’t it Alan. The important thing is that it was discovered by men…taken by men…manipulated by men, ruled over by men: men firing from the hip and the penis until everything and everybody yelled ‘Submission’ and the place started to look, feel and sound like a ‘joint’.
Good people over the years have tried to address those injustices Alan and many have contributed much to ensure that this could be seen potentially as a beautiful country – not a joint.
But you’ve done your best to make sure that it stays a ‘joint’ haven’t you Alan. For years with your bigotry, misogyny, sexist rants and bile you have coloured the airwaves blue with stupefyingly successful shockjock results. Turning people against people, group against group. With the help of your like-minded shock-jock and political bros you have maintained this 'joint’ image – a fearful, selfish, mean-minded, greedy country that cannot abide women, asylum-seekers, people with disabilities or our indigenous brothers and sisters…to name a few.
Shame on you!
And now what? Women are daring to rise up, take some of that power away from those with the Dangly Bits in order to equalise the equation…and you’re frightened. Yes – you’re snivellingly, crawlingly frightened that these creatures with Openings dare to show what they can do. They dare to lift that skirt, put down that pail, have a drink if they want to and defy mens’ gaol.
My Granddaughters know they’re as good as the boy or girl next to them in the Kindergarten or Playgroup.
They know that they will be encouraged to be ‘who they are’ to their maximum potential because the women who went before them made damn sure that they would.
But they also know Alan…that they cannot do it alone. They know that if we are to make this Joint into a modern, civilized, healthy and equal opportunity country, men and women must work together. Men and women must mutually respect one another and their individual strengths.
Enough of your bleatings, Alan Jones. Our Granddaughters and Grandsons will work together. You..and 'The Joint' are passé.