Coming back from a walk one evening recently, we had to jump out of the way of a 4WD (what else?) as the driver backed out of his driveway like a maniac.
It was bad enough that we had to take evasive action because this bozo didn’t even think to check whether the footpath behind him was clear. But not only did the prick not apologise – he glared and mouthed off at us before he roared off.
How I yearned to belt off after him and slag on his windscreen when he stopped at the corner to turn. And to have smacked his face around with open-handed relish if he’d gotten out to protest.
But alas, I’ve never been physically aggro. Besides, violence is ethically unsupportable as far as I’m concerned, except in self-defence, or in defence of some bully’s victim. But if I abhor violence in life, I certainly allow it a place in art.
Saw an advance screening of a truly remarkable new Australian movie on Saturday: September.
Set in the Western Australian wheatbelt of 1968 (but actually filmed in Yass, near Canberra), the movie focuses on the friendship between two adolescent boys on a farm: Ed, who is the white son of a farmer, and Paddy, whose Aboriginal family is virtually “in service” to Ed’s father. These were the days in which Aboriginal farm workers were given shelter and food in exchange for their labour, but no wages. Paddy’s family lives in a shack across the field from the farmhouse.
After my rant on the chronic abuse of the word “perfect” by the BHG team, I had to tune into the beginning of Friday’s show to see whether they’d make a liar of me. They didn’t. Scant minutes into the intro the “perfect” count was up to 3. Vindicated, I wasn’t about to hang around, but then Fast Ed’s segment came on… Continue reading Fast Ed Full of Gas→