Cabbies & Corruption

It was a line I wish I could take credit for. A line I wish, desperately, that I had invented.

I was travelling in a cab on Wednesday morning, scrambling to get to an Anna Bligh media conference. I’d had to leave behind the nice Irish electrician working on a full refit of the lights in Chez Clumsy; his job made particularly interesting by a sudden power outage.

After I gave my destination as the Executive Building in George Street, the cabbie - a pleasant enough chap around 60, with a broad nose and belly to match – began laying into our current crop of politicians.

At first I wasn’t paying close attention as I tried to remember if I’d packed everything in my case for our next campaign trip away. But I perked up a little as he started referring to Sir Joh Bjelke-Petersen as “the only politician I had any respect for”, due to the trains running on time, and power problems like today’s being fixed within minutes. But it was Joh’s abolition of death duties, according to my erstwhile escort, that made Queensland what it is today, and really helped out his family with their farm at Gin Gin.

Also, there was something about his great-grandfather’s brother’s niece being someone rescued from the Titanic. “Cross my heart,” he said, “But that’s a different story.”

When I sought to question his unfailing devotion to Sir Joh, asking “Surely his government had systemic corruption issues, though?”, this was his immediate, glorious response:

“Yes, but it was good corruption. Because you could see it.”

The Politics of Friendship

There I was, standing outside Government House at Paddington two Sundays ago, waiting for Premier Anna Bligh to kick this state election into gear - when my phone beeped with a text message.

It was an essay of an SMS from a dear friend of mine, and it left me as white as a bleached sheet under a UV light.

I won't include the full details, because I adore this friend of mine and I want to try repair any damage to our longstanding friendship. But in summary, they hurled invectives and vitriol at me, accused me of being jealous of their career/financial success, slammed me as being politically biased and declared they would be defriending me on Facebook and didn't care if we ever spoke again.

Then Anna Bligh drove out of the Government House gates, and I had to go and be a journalist. A biased one, apparently.

What was the cause of this outburst from my friend? What had I done?

Well, friends, I had done what I realise now was Mistake 101 of social media - I got into a political discussion on Facebook.

My friend had updated their status complaining about the private health insurance means test legislation passing through the federal lower house. A few people had weighed in agreeing that hospital waiting lists would blow out under this move. I left a message saying while I accepted that point, it did strike me as problematic that people earning less than the $83, 000 cut-off had to subsidise healthcare for those earning much more. I said that a public health system should cater for anyone who wants to access it, even the very rich. But I added that money gives those people a choice that others (who may work hard also, but just be in professions that earn less) don't have.

At least, that is what I can recall stating. I can no longer access my actual comments because my friend made good on their threat and defriended me.

How do you write the emoticon "sadface" into a blog?

Last week, hours travelling on the campaign bus between destinations afforded me a lot of time to think about what I'd written, and how I'd managed to so badly offend my friend.

To be labelled politically biased upset me greatly. I work very hard to ensure all of my reporting is as objective as possible. I have no party affiliation; and have friends and acquaintances with views across the political spectrum. My father, for instance, would have no problem with me telling you that he is a great admirer of the work of John Winston Howard.

LET'S JUST AGREE WE ALL HATE RAY MARTIN

I get envious of other people's money sometimes, but I'm generally OK with what I've got. I've had a stupidly fortunate life. I know ultimately I've chosen to be in the profession I'm in, even if I could have used my brain and education to get into a more lucrative one.

I've always tried to put truth at the centre of everything - but if I can say one thing about growing older and do more journalism-ing, is that there really is no one particular "truth". Unless it's evidence-based, peer-reviewed, scientific fact - it's often not much more than opinion. 

WHO AM I KIDDING LOOK AT THAT FACE
I COULD NEVER HATE RAY MARTIN

I've always admired my friend's drive and success, and I've never resented them for it. But it seems what I thought was a relatively throwaway remark about the nature of healthcare, was taken as a very personal attack on their life choices and philosophies.

Truth, or opinion? Talk about a political divide.

My friend has yet to respond to any of the messages I have left asking to talk. I hope that they do. I don't think petty politics is worth losing a grand friendship. But maybe that's not my choice anymore.

Am I the only one to experience something like this? Was it my fault - for expressing a view, or for expressing it specifically on Facebook? Can you ever be friends despite your politics? And if you can - how?

Young People in Politics

You know, I could say that the person who suggested this photo be taken will pay... but then she's behind in the opinion polls and there may be little point in adding insult to injury.

Magical Mystery Tour

The Queensland election campaign is officially underway, with the parliament dissolved today and the writs issued for a March 24 poll.

Tonight, I'm boarding a plane to be a part of the media contingent covering Anna Bligh, as she makes a bid for re-election. At some point, I'll do a swap, and spend time on Campbell Newman's tour, as he attempts the unprecedented move of becoming Premier from outside the parliament.

And the winner of the "Who Can Keep Their Mouth Open The Longest Competition" is...

It really is a magical mystery tour - all I know is where to show up, and to prepare for any eventuality clothing-wise. I've tried to fit seven days worth of clothes into an overnight case. Let's see how long the tidiness lasts!

I'm going to endeavour to update this site from the road, time and internet connections being equal. I'll also be tweeting; and I'm going to experiment with the new Brisbane-based social media network Kondoot. It allows you to livestream, so I'm going to see if I could do little campaign updates as I go along.

My priority of course is providing balanced, succinct and relevant coverage of the Battle of 2012 - but it's also the wider experience of campaign life that I'm looking forward to.

It's Murphy's Law that as I depart, ImproMafia is gearing back up again for an exciting 2012 season. Check out our beautiful new website, like us on Facebook, and come along to our fantastic performances.

Thanks to everyone for your ongoing support. I will no doubt make mistakes and learn from them, but that, I suppose, is the challenge for a journalist as much as it is for a politician!

Having My Cakes

It's widely acknowledged (at least on this website), that the song "Africa" by Toto is possibly the greatest piece of music ever composed.

Sure, my Dad may tell you Beethoven's 9th is a stunning tribute to the glory of the human voice, and my Mum may tell you the Rolling Stones rocked back in London in the '70s, but did Ludwig Van or Keith Richards ever come up with the phrase "As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti"? NO THEY DID NOT.

So when my plans to host a little soiree at my parents' house (I probably should respect their music choices a bit more) coincided with my friend Kate's foray into the world of commercial baking, I knew there could be only one outcome: The Africa Cake.

Fashion Cents - Big Reveal

I'll keep this introduction short, as I know people aren't interested in what I think right now, only what the hell those dresses were.

Thank you ALL so much for taking the time to comment. This has been endlessly fascinating, and everyone has been so remarkably positive and enthusiastic about it! Keep reading, as there are PIE CHARTS and explanatory notes to come.

But first, pictures!

Fashion Cents

Something has been happening to me over recent months. I've started... buying clothes.

Not just any clothes. Non-cheap clothes. Clothes with... brand names.

I've always enjoyed shopping, and particularly snaring a bargain. But over the past year, I've become more and more drawn to the nicer clothes, the better quality stuff. In the fashion world, they don't call them clothes. They call them "pieces".

Don't get me wrong, I still love a bargain. I can't afford most stuff at full price (even if it's "worth it"). But I've started taking true advantage of sales and discounts at places like Myer. 30% off, 40% off, 50% off, even 60% off. Buying clothes that will be practical and stylish for work or play, and not fall apart after a few wears.

Myer is like crack for that s**t.

The Infestation

I don't know when it began, but it feels like it's been going on for months, like the Republican primaries or the reality TV shows about weight loss.

The Infestation.

Google tells me they are Indian Meal Moths, and they are damn hard to be rid of.

I've had them before in my pantry, but never as bad as they seem to be at the moment. They're in everything, these tiny winged terrors. Worst of all, they tend to like foods they actually physically resemble, like oats and rice and motherf***ing sunflower seeds:

Is this part of my breakfast? Or part of a nightmarish scenario where I eat moths and moths grow in
my stomach and have baby moths and eventually turn me inside out into a foul demonic humano-moth?

I think the meal moths have overtaken geckos as my new freak-out-creating creature of choice.