Gettin' Heavy on the Levy

There's been a fair bit of contention about the federal government's proposed flood levy - a one-off boost to the Medicare Levy to raise $3 billion to rebuild infrastructure destroyed by the January floods.

Opponents say it's another example of poor economic management from Labor; suggesting they're reaching for a tax to solve their problems rather than budgeting properly. There are concerns the levy will stretch beyond its allocated year. Opposition Leader Tony Abbott claims it's unfair, as it taxes people like donors and volunteers who've already given their time and/or money; and even went so far as to say Prime Minister Julia Gillard was using the floods to mask her government's addiction to spending.

A neat online calculator I discovered allows you to plug in your yearly income and get your projected contribution.  Now don't be fooled by my lavish urbane lifestyle - journalism and occasional jobbing actor gigs don't fetch as much coin as you might think. According to the calculator, I'm up for about $25 extra in tax this financial year.

I realise contributions increase exponentially the more you earn, meaning someone on $100,000 a year will pay around $250. But still, don't people on $100k these days drop $250 a year on smartphone apps and skinny mochaccinos alone ?

All right, that is a gross generalisation. Maybe $100,000 isn't "rich", as some people would like us to believe. All I know is that it's a fair bit richer than me, in the same way I'm a fair bit richer than someone on $35k a year. And the levy doesn't apply to anyone earning under $50k, so low-income earners don't have to worry about an extra slug. As far as I can see, I'm at the very bottom of the paying scale. And yet, I am more than happy to sling $25 towards part of a bridge, or a few centimetres of bitumen, or a bit of cabling.

So I kind of want to tell people on higher incomes who have a problem with the one-off levy to, you know, get over it. "Build a bridge", you might say ironically. Is it really that much to ask, to help rebuild the shattered parts of our country? It's not like you'll starve. Chances are you've got accountants who can help you "streamline" your taxes effectively anyway.

But maybe I don't understand their side of the story. Perhaps there are financial pressures I've not considered. Perhaps the Labor Party IS just a bunch of nakedly greedy toads eager to extract every last spare cent from its desperate subjects (er, constituents).

So here is my challenge. If you earn between $50,000 and $100,000 per year, and you don't want to pay the levy - I WILL PAY IT FOR YOU.

That's right. I will hand you the $25 to $250 in CASH.

All you have to do is pose for a photograph.  To be precise: this photograph:

Yes indeed - fanned five-dollar banknotes, self-satisfied smug look, righteous pointing finger - the lot.You'll also need to sign the photograph, under the statement "That's right - I don't want to help!" And you surrender any rights to where that photograph may appear. On this blog, for example. Or perhaps a bus stop, or billboard.

But surely that's a small price to pay to get your $25 to $250 in sweet, sweet cash?

Oh wait, maybe it's actually just a small price to pay to help your country.

I await your applications. Don't forget last year's tax statement as proof of income.

Nothing But the Tooth

Ever been talked into something foolish?

Ever been talked into something foolish and expensive?

Ever been talked into something foolish and expensive and ridiculous and utterly, utterly pointless?

Put your witty cracks about "marriage" aside, and feast your eyes on this:

Yes. Exactly. And if you wish to continue feeling superior to me in every possible way, read on.

Murder Cakes

Sunday. I was feeling a little bad about not doing any hands-on volunteering for the flood clean-up, so I decided to bake cupcakes. It was a fun process; interrupted only by the surprise shattering of a glass tumbler that The Wah had been retrieving from an overhead cupboard.

Once cooled and iced, I asked a buddy on Twitter who'd been out and about where I could deliver some of these (reasonably) delicious treats without getting in the way.

He tipped me off that the lovely Janet Leach, purveyor of exquisite designer goods through Artery Store, had seen her lovely old Queenslander inundated. While a mass clean-up effort had rid the street of most of the mud and muck the river had deposited, she remained without power.

I packed up about ten cupcakes, along with some oranges, bananas and a bottle of wine, and headed down to West End.  Janet said she was delighted to receive my little care package, and I was very pleased.

Monday. I got home from work and The Wah said "Your attempt to kill me failed, by the way."

"What?"

"I was beginning to eat one of your cupcakes and I found a large piece of glass in it."

Huh?

What?

Oh no!

"Oh yes. It was lucky I didn't bite down on it."

It turns out we hadn't quite cleaned up all of the broken glass.

"But... but I gave Janet those cupcakes. And she was going to save them for.... her children!"

I could see the headlines.

JOURNALIST KILLS INNOCENT CHILD FLOOD VICTIM: CLAIMS SHE WAS HELPING

GLASS HALF-FULL? MORE LIKE CUPCAKES HALF-FULL OF GLASS

IS THIS WOMAN WORSE THAN HITLER? YES, SAYS EVERYONE

Aghast, I desperately messaged Janet, telling her oh my god Greg found glass in one of the cupcakes because a glass broke when I was baking and I thought it had all gone on the floor and oh my god please  check them or better yet throw them away just throw them I'll make you some more oh please god don't let me have killed your children.

Janet got back to me, saying the kids had in fact eaten a cupcake each for afternoon tea - OH DEAR GOD - but were fine. She also said she'd throw the rest away, just in case.

The Wah now refers to them as my Murder Cakes.

I'd say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but in my case, it seems the road to hell is paved with POTENTIALLY DEADLY SHARDS OF GLASS.

Smart Enough to Know Better

For the past six months now, I've been contributing to the Smart Enough to Know Better podcast, run by The Wah and Dan Beeston.

It's a podcast about science, comedy and ignorance - and it's very good.

If you haven't listened before, I'd suggest starting with this week's Episode 8.0 - in which the boys interview Brisbane's own super author John Birmingham about the science of his world-building, and the technology of writing itself.

There's also comedy sketches, challenges and zombies.

I'd highly recommend hitting up their RSS feed, or subscribing through iTunes.

Ave Maria

The lady had walked past me as I sat on a curb taking pictures of flowers, the rattling of her tartan trolley bag's plastic wheels audible over my headphones.

"Excuse me." I looked up.

Her voice had the lilting accent of a birthplace far away. She was an older lady, with greying dark hair pinned up with combs, and a bejewelled brooch in the centre of her black cardigan.

"I noticed you taking photographs, and I want you to see something I found," she said, reaching into the tartan depths and retrieving a knitted mobile phone pouch.

"I was just walking along thinking about my husband, who died in 2002..." - her voice broke - "...and I found this on the road."

I looked down into her hand.

Water Street

In and around all the floods, I've been doing a photography course. Just a basic introductory one, but something I've wanted to do for a long time, and finally got around to it. Of course, the deluge of Brisbane forced a couple of classes to be cancelled, and make-up classes hastily arranged, but it's actually been a really positive experience. Something else to focus on for a couple of hours a day; some useful skills obtained.

As I've walked home the past few days, I've kept my camera out and taken a few shots along Water Street - trying to practice some of the basic techniques I'm finally starting to grasp after two years with my Nikon D80.

I plan to continue practising where possible - and I'd love to have some suggestions of "themes" I could incorporate. For example - colours, numbers, objects, whatever concept takes your fancy.

Thursday, Post Peak

Photographs of Brisbane city, the Victoria Bridge, South Brisbane and Kurilpa, taken Thursday 13 January between 2pm and 4:30pm.

Flood

The sun came out this morning.

Cruel, this weather is. Cruel, to lift the fog and drizzle that has hung over the city and give its residents full clarity of vision, just as the floodwaters reach their peak. Look. You must look. You must see.

Except my street is empty. It looks normal. Quiet, with a slight breeze whipping leaves along the gutters. Sunlight glinting off the bitumen. A butcher bird just chirped.

But then the roar of choppers flying overhead breaks the trance. This is a mere bubble of normality.

There is a low level hum in my head, matched by a strange feeling in my stomach.

The images are all incredible, unbelievable. But certain images shake me. The sight of the Drift Cafe sinking into the muddy brown waters, tilting forwards as it strains against its moorings, as if it's dropped its head onto its chest, resigned to its fate. Let the doors open, the owner was told. Let the waters swallow it down, before they rip it away.

My job this week is to just keep updating, interviewing, recording, cutting, editing, writing, updating, updating. It's the honourable, valuable side of the media, the role to inform and educate. And yet I feel impotent. It doesn't feel like nearly enough. All I can do is watch.

But everyone is helping. Emergency authorities, residents, friends, families, strangers. The sun is shining on them too now. But then, their good work was already well lit, even during the heaviest rains.

Distilled Wisdom

The Bundaberg Rum Distillery is in a part of town that was badly affected by floodwaters. Just a few streets away, I spoke to a lady who'd lost her rumpus room, kitchen, bathroom and all of her turf. But the Distillery was fine. If God exists, he/she must be a rum drinker.

A big thanks to Damien, my cohort from Bundaberg Broadcasters. He took time out from his work as breakfast announcer on HitzFM to show me around town, which assisted me no end.

The Big Clean-Up

It's been an incredibly busy couple of days: visiting flood-affected homes and businesses; chatting to locals and authorities about the clean up effort; cutting audio; filing stories; taking pictures; and doing phone crosses back to the Brisbane and Sydney stations.

For those interested, I've compiled a photo montage:

The floods have left many residents in Bundaberg with a big challenge ahead of them, but the overwhelming feeling I've encountered is one of resilient optimism. People are simply getting on with it. The local disaster response has seemed well-organised and effective, and I hope it's the same in other parts of Queensland similarly affected by floodwaters.

It's certainly been a great experience to come to Bundaberg, and I can only wish the town and its people all the best in the future. If you'd like to donate to the Premier's Disaster Relief Appeal, you can do so by clicking here.

Bundaberg

I rose in Brisbane; tonight I rest in Bundaberg. What an odd 24 hours.

I've been sent here to cover the flood clean-up effort. I drove up; arrived around 5pm; checked into my hotel (my room has a mezzanine level!); set up my equipment; then went out to find people to chat to. I grabbed some delicious Thai from a nearby establishment called "Spicy Tonight" (in fact I chose the mild option for my chicken ginger stir-fry); then settled in for a night in front of the computer cutting up audio and writing stories.

I've not seen much of the town yet, but the floodwaters from the Burnett River have receded, so it looks oddly normal. I'll find out more tomorrow as I head out and attempt to be a Proper Journalist.

Here's a few pics so far:

Rubbish outside the Spinnaker restaurant on Quay St

Lightning crackled in the sky as another
quick storm got ready to strike.

Evidence of inundation along the river.

Ian manages the community pool along the river.
They were lucky and escaped inundation.
And I totally want to play on those inflatable thingies.

One, One, One-One

This is my diary for 2011 - and my aim for the year is to live by the titular slogan.

I've been thinking about 2010, and trying to give it a mark of sorts. And I realise that sort of thing is impossible because there are always ups and downs and other trite cliches.