Oh happy days! Gliberty’s favourite public figure has nominated to take a seat in the Upper House of the News South Wales Parliament. John Robertson, certificated genius and all round great guy, will add some much needed intellectual rigour to current political discourse.
He and that other potential giant of the Australian political landscape, Nathan #&%@##! Rees, are bound to feature often in these pages.
Mr #&%@##! wasted no time in challenging Mr Robertson to a race to become the smartest man in politics when he warned rail unions that if they didn’t improve their work practices their bosses would be sacked.
Brilliant!
Sunday, 19 October 2008
Friday, 4 July 2008
An interview with Professor Garnaut
Professor Garnaut thank you for joining us.
Good for you to be with me.
The GARNAUT report on climate change.
I beg your pardon?
It’s the GARNAUT report on climate change.
That’s what I said.
No, you said, “your report on climate change”.
Of course, but you are Professor Garnuat and is it not your report?
Yes, I am. I am PROFESSOR ROSS GARNAUT. And it’s MY report. Didn’t you see the cover?
I did.
Looks good doesn't it?
Yes, lovely. Tell me, why didn't you only publish the report on-line? A lot of paper must have been used in printing so many copies of the report.
But there wouldn't have been a cover!
Quite. Your report says…
The GARNAUT report says…
As you wish. The Garnaut report says that…
You’re not quite getting it. It’s like playing a wind instrument. First, one must inhale, deeply, and, then, as you come to “Garnaut” one must exhale from the lower diaphragm, much in the manner of a member of the brass section before undertaking a particularly important and vital phrase of the piece. A trumpeter, for example…
A first trumpet? A solosit, perhaps?
Quite so. One inhales, deeply, and then exhales with great force as one speaks, with emphasis all on the initial word of the title. Like so, “the GARNAUT report on climate change”. After all, with a subject as complex and diabolical as this, it’s important we get the basics right. For how can we get the policy right if we can’t even understand the most important factor at the heart of the report? The report upon which the country's future depends.
And the most important factor at the heart of the report, I’m sorry, of the GARNAUT report…
…on climate change
Yes, the GARNAUT report on climate change, upon which the whole nation depends, the most important factor at the heart of which... is?
ROSS GARNAUT, Professor.
Professor Garnaut, we’re grateful for your time.
Yes. You are.
Thursday, 19 June 2008
Our Fonzie
Do you remember the Happy Days episode when Fonzie had to admit he was wrong? Well, old timer, at least do you remember Happy Days?
Anyway, the Fonz stood there trying to get the words out, “I was wr… . I was wrrr…. Wrr… rrrrrr….” Eventually he gave up and stormed off, with or without a flick of the collar of his leather jacket – I don’t remember.
He couldn’t do it. After all, he was Arthur ‘the Fonz’ Fonzarelli and he was never w-w-wro…
Kevin Rudd is very relaxed, so he keeps telling us, but even he might admit that he’s not cool. Hell, he’s not even cool as Richie. He certainly isn’t the Fonz.
Yesterday in Parliament, our relaxed Prime Minister channelled the Fonz when he refused to admit he was “wr..ooo …o” over having mistaken an inflation target.
It was as cringe making and revealing. Had he just apologised and said the number had momentarily popped out of his mind he would have got a ribbing but nobody would have given a fig. Some might have found his candour refreshing. Instead, the lipless one squirmed and scuttled and obfuscated and showed himself to be vain and weak. His behaviour was w-r-o-n-g.
As the Fonz would say, “Not cool, Cunningham. Not cool.”
Anyway, the Fonz stood there trying to get the words out, “I was wr… . I was wrrr…. Wrr… rrrrrr….” Eventually he gave up and stormed off, with or without a flick of the collar of his leather jacket – I don’t remember.
He couldn’t do it. After all, he was Arthur ‘the Fonz’ Fonzarelli and he was never w-w-wro…
Kevin Rudd is very relaxed, so he keeps telling us, but even he might admit that he’s not cool. Hell, he’s not even cool as Richie. He certainly isn’t the Fonz.
Yesterday in Parliament, our relaxed Prime Minister channelled the Fonz when he refused to admit he was “wr..ooo …o” over having mistaken an inflation target.
It was as cringe making and revealing. Had he just apologised and said the number had momentarily popped out of his mind he would have got a ribbing but nobody would have given a fig. Some might have found his candour refreshing. Instead, the lipless one squirmed and scuttled and obfuscated and showed himself to be vain and weak. His behaviour was w-r-o-n-g.
As the Fonz would say, “Not cool, Cunningham. Not cool.”
Monday, 5 May 2008
No escape
An intelligent acquaintance declared that the difference between those on the right and left of politics is that the former don’t trust individuals to act responsibly. He was and remains incorrect.
It is the left which doesn’t trust individuals and increasingly seeks to micromanage our lives. It was on the left’s watch that the British nanny state became entrenched. It is under centre left rule that a NSW minister has been empowered to use subordinate legislation to declare that you (but not your neighbour in the next suburb) can’t drink alcohol in your living room. And it’s the same flavour of government which prevents citizens from going to more than one nightclub per night, outlaws plastic shopping bags and all but bans smoking.
It’s not only new laws and, their unchecked nasty little brother, regulation, which threaten individual liberty. The cities are infected with correct thinking which allows this to happen. As Mill noted, protection against the tyranny of authority is not enough, “there needs protection also against tyranny of prevailing opinion and feeling, against the tendency of society to impose, by other means than civil penalties, its own ideas and practices as rules of conduct”.
It is the comparatively well educated members of society who have acquiesced in, and in many cases encouraged, government intrusion into corporate and private life to the extent that few question the wisdom of state regulation of “junk” food advertising, compulsory exercise regimes, the size of car you’re allowed and what you do in your living room.
As those who govern accumulate greater power to wield against us for our own good, flight from society increasingly appeals. Though the tentacles of regulation reach all communities in this Commonwealth, at least running away will help those of us who choose to drive a 4WD home from the pub via the kebab shop, have extra chicken salt on our chips and finish off with a smoke avoid detection. That is, unless you retreat too far, to our most remote communities, where nothing is permitted and everything is tolerated.
Running away will also provide escape from the too frequent intrusion of the kind bien-pensant non-thinking that refuses to question, even for the sake of debate, whether there is a causal link between global warming and human economic activity, or which has led my local authority to erect street signs declaring that its ratepayers inhabit a nuclear free zone*. Woe betide the nation which dares to incinerate Ashfield with a thermo-nuclear device in defiance of those abundant warnings!
Mr Rudd came to power promising new thinking. The extent to which this new thinking represents old left orthodoxies and, more importantly, the extent to which Mr Rudd will accept valid criticism and make necessary adjustments, will be the real test of the man and the government.
The test for us will be the degree to which we are prepared to challenge new orthodoxies and insist that the smugly self-satisfied justify the intellectual and moral superiority they draw from their uncritical parroting of accepted wisdom.
If all else fails, I’ve got a spare room in my remote bunker. Just bring whiskey and a few cartons of smokes.
* Did the council remember to inform local radiographers they are no longer welcome?
It is the left which doesn’t trust individuals and increasingly seeks to micromanage our lives. It was on the left’s watch that the British nanny state became entrenched. It is under centre left rule that a NSW minister has been empowered to use subordinate legislation to declare that you (but not your neighbour in the next suburb) can’t drink alcohol in your living room. And it’s the same flavour of government which prevents citizens from going to more than one nightclub per night, outlaws plastic shopping bags and all but bans smoking.
It’s not only new laws and, their unchecked nasty little brother, regulation, which threaten individual liberty. The cities are infected with correct thinking which allows this to happen. As Mill noted, protection against the tyranny of authority is not enough, “there needs protection also against tyranny of prevailing opinion and feeling, against the tendency of society to impose, by other means than civil penalties, its own ideas and practices as rules of conduct”.
It is the comparatively well educated members of society who have acquiesced in, and in many cases encouraged, government intrusion into corporate and private life to the extent that few question the wisdom of state regulation of “junk” food advertising, compulsory exercise regimes, the size of car you’re allowed and what you do in your living room.
As those who govern accumulate greater power to wield against us for our own good, flight from society increasingly appeals. Though the tentacles of regulation reach all communities in this Commonwealth, at least running away will help those of us who choose to drive a 4WD home from the pub via the kebab shop, have extra chicken salt on our chips and finish off with a smoke avoid detection. That is, unless you retreat too far, to our most remote communities, where nothing is permitted and everything is tolerated.
Running away will also provide escape from the too frequent intrusion of the kind bien-pensant non-thinking that refuses to question, even for the sake of debate, whether there is a causal link between global warming and human economic activity, or which has led my local authority to erect street signs declaring that its ratepayers inhabit a nuclear free zone*. Woe betide the nation which dares to incinerate Ashfield with a thermo-nuclear device in defiance of those abundant warnings!
Mr Rudd came to power promising new thinking. The extent to which this new thinking represents old left orthodoxies and, more importantly, the extent to which Mr Rudd will accept valid criticism and make necessary adjustments, will be the real test of the man and the government.
The test for us will be the degree to which we are prepared to challenge new orthodoxies and insist that the smugly self-satisfied justify the intellectual and moral superiority they draw from their uncritical parroting of accepted wisdom.
If all else fails, I’ve got a spare room in my remote bunker. Just bring whiskey and a few cartons of smokes.
* Did the council remember to inform local radiographers they are no longer welcome?
Monday, 17 March 2008
Night time in the switching yard
The secretary of Unions NSW, John Robertson, believes that as Sydney’s transport problems are so bad, workers should be paid for the time they spend commuting.
To facilitate productivity during this time, governments should pay for wireless internet connections to be installed on trains to enable white collar workers to work while commuting.
This is a brilliant plan and long overdue. But does it go far enough?
No, it does not.
It is suspected the many collateral public policy benefits of Robertson’s suggestion may have escaped even his capacious intellect.
It’s discriminatory
Blue collar workers must not miss out.
Trains should be fitted with metal shops, work benches and tools. Hydraulic lifts for mechanics are also needed.
Long trains are excellent venues for outside workers, such as dog walkers and personal trainers, to put their charges through their paces.
What about the professionals?
If they lined the seats up to face the same way and replaced route maps (which won’t be needed – see below) with a few whiteboards, teachers could conduct classes. After all, the kids are already on the trains.
Small courts must be constructed to enable litigants, lawyers and members of the judiciary who live in the same area to do their bit to knock over the depressingly long civil list on the way to the office.
Surgeons could conduct elective surgery and the already bright lighting would afford dental hygienists the opportunity to de-scale and polish en route to the surgery.
Waiting times for justice and health care will be reduced at a stroke.
What about housing?
Sure, Robertson is onto something identifying the time spent by workers commuting, but is he addressing the root cause of all this commuting?
No, he is not.
The real evil is the housing affordability crisis which pushes workers out to the city fringe forcing them to commute in the first place.
However, at the price of some bunks, an ablutions carriage or two and a few dining cars (why should chefs not work while they ride), the state would be providing accommodation for the price of a season ticket.
With work and living facilities on the train, commuting would be obviated. The new trains then could be shunted to switching yards where the wheels would be removed. Not having all that rolling stock moving around will save energy and help us win the battle against global warming.
It’s all in a morning’s work for Mr. John Robertson, secretary of Unions NSW and future Nobel laureate.
To facilitate productivity during this time, governments should pay for wireless internet connections to be installed on trains to enable white collar workers to work while commuting.
This is a brilliant plan and long overdue. But does it go far enough?
No, it does not.
It is suspected the many collateral public policy benefits of Robertson’s suggestion may have escaped even his capacious intellect.
It’s discriminatory
Blue collar workers must not miss out.
Trains should be fitted with metal shops, work benches and tools. Hydraulic lifts for mechanics are also needed.
Long trains are excellent venues for outside workers, such as dog walkers and personal trainers, to put their charges through their paces.
What about the professionals?
If they lined the seats up to face the same way and replaced route maps (which won’t be needed – see below) with a few whiteboards, teachers could conduct classes. After all, the kids are already on the trains.
Small courts must be constructed to enable litigants, lawyers and members of the judiciary who live in the same area to do their bit to knock over the depressingly long civil list on the way to the office.
Surgeons could conduct elective surgery and the already bright lighting would afford dental hygienists the opportunity to de-scale and polish en route to the surgery.
Waiting times for justice and health care will be reduced at a stroke.
What about housing?
Sure, Robertson is onto something identifying the time spent by workers commuting, but is he addressing the root cause of all this commuting?
No, he is not.
The real evil is the housing affordability crisis which pushes workers out to the city fringe forcing them to commute in the first place.
However, at the price of some bunks, an ablutions carriage or two and a few dining cars (why should chefs not work while they ride), the state would be providing accommodation for the price of a season ticket.
With work and living facilities on the train, commuting would be obviated. The new trains then could be shunted to switching yards where the wheels would be removed. Not having all that rolling stock moving around will save energy and help us win the battle against global warming.
It’s all in a morning’s work for Mr. John Robertson, secretary of Unions NSW and future Nobel laureate.
Monday, 10 March 2008
I’m no wowser, but…
Never trust a bloke who says he’s trustworthy. The second biggest liar I ever met said to me on my first day at the company where he was a senior executive, “I’m honest”.
I was grateful for this admission, as he immediately marked himself as warranting close scrutiny. And so it was later confirmed - he was unethical, corrupt and a liar and I was delighted to play a not insignificant part in his dismissal, defeat in the courts, deportation and, for the sake if his long suffering wife, divorce.
We’ve all previously heard and, most likely, adopted the same self-exculpatory formulation:
I’m no homophobe, I even live in Sydney, but…
I’m not racist, some of my favourite food is foreign, but…
Well, I don't stand before you as some sort of saint. Never have, never will do. But…
I mean, I'm no wowser on this sort of stuff. I mean, everyone likes to go out and have a good time, good on them. But…
Experience dictates that the safest way to interpret such language is to treat the word “but” as reversing the polarity of all that has gone before. That is, the reader should conclude the opposite of what has been claimed and, in turn, read the word “but” as “and”.
Applying this to the last two sentences we are rewarded with:
Well, I’m a saint and I’m going to make you behave a little more like me…
I mean, look at me, I’m a wowser and I’m going to dictate how young people spend their recreation time…
Who would have thought we could enjoy the style of government enjoyed by the British without leaving the sun.
I was grateful for this admission, as he immediately marked himself as warranting close scrutiny. And so it was later confirmed - he was unethical, corrupt and a liar and I was delighted to play a not insignificant part in his dismissal, defeat in the courts, deportation and, for the sake if his long suffering wife, divorce.
We’ve all previously heard and, most likely, adopted the same self-exculpatory formulation:
I’m no homophobe, I even live in Sydney, but…
I’m not racist, some of my favourite food is foreign, but…
Well, I don't stand before you as some sort of saint. Never have, never will do. But…
I mean, I'm no wowser on this sort of stuff. I mean, everyone likes to go out and have a good time, good on them. But…
Experience dictates that the safest way to interpret such language is to treat the word “but” as reversing the polarity of all that has gone before. That is, the reader should conclude the opposite of what has been claimed and, in turn, read the word “but” as “and”.
Applying this to the last two sentences we are rewarded with:
Well, I’m a saint and I’m going to make you behave a little more like me…
I mean, look at me, I’m a wowser and I’m going to dictate how young people spend their recreation time…
Who would have thought we could enjoy the style of government enjoyed by the British without leaving the sun.
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