The P Word

The P word

This is really an expansion of a comment I left here.

Shane Jones, you give great entertainment.

For those of you unaware of the Shane Jones predicament, here's a quick breakdown: He's a highly ranked Labour politician who was tipped for leadership. While staying in a hotel he decided to watch some porn (as you do) and it got charged it to his ministerial credit card aka the credit card funded by taxpayers. The public found out and hilarity ensued.

I don't have a problem with the fact that Jones watched porn. It doesn't mean that he's a deviant. I don't know many guys who don't watch porn. It's so commonplace that budding starlets are routinely 'shocked, dismayed and saddened' to find that a 'private' sex tape is now available on the internet. Hell, a google search for barbie dolls can end with you watching porn.

I'm kinda 50/50 on how I feel about the fact that the porn was charged to his ministerial credit card. If I didn't know, I wouldn't have a problem. But I do know and I have a problem. It's not like I haven't paid for someone else's entertianment - I've flatted with guys before and I'm realistic on where a chunk of the internet bandwidth is going. And I think that's where the problem lies - why did he pay for porn?  WTF? Was this charge made in pre-internet days? Why did he pay for something you can get for free? There is an astounding variety of porn available on the internet. There is even a rule about the sheer amount available. You can get all of that for free if you hit the right links. See that? Free! I expect some sort of fiscal responsibility from politicians, especially ones that are earmarked for leadership of their respective parties. Sure, he paid it back. That's cool. But the charge shouldn't have happened in the first place when there's a non-paying alternative available.

But what really gets me is this: what kind of politician doesn't cover his damn tracks?? WTF man? Sure, he's not the only one to abuse the credit card but he definitely had one of the most entertaining statements. Only an idiot wouldn't realise that and not cover it up. Leaving it there to potentially be discovered? That's just slack and I place higher expectations on politicians. Do you think prime ministers got to be prime ministers by just letting shit slide? The most outrageous expense on Helen Clarke's statement was her phone bill. John Key's most noteworthy expense is his penchant for buying All Blacks jerseys for gifts overseas. See Jones? That's how you do it. If there was anything that could've made the news, I'm sure they either: charged it to their personal credit cards; paid cash; made damn sure that any trace of it was wiped away. Budding politicians take note: we do not tolerate such sloppy work.

Granted, he probably didn't intend to put the charge on his credit card. I've stayed in hotel rooms before and I've accidentally charged embarrassing things to another person's credit card. Shit happens. But he must've realised it was off. I work in the public sector. We are constantly reminded that anything we do can be OIA'd and we must be careful about where we spend tax dollars. I doubt things would be different for him. Although, to be honest, I'd be stunned if he was thinking about anything further than the matter in hand (pun intended).

To finish, I guess I'll leave you with this final tip about searching for porn: always remember to turn google safe search off. And don't click on anything with the following terms: 'tub girl' and 'eel girl'.

All new!

Change of direction and name. Because I needed some sort of structure.

The theme of this blog will be: things that make me go 'WTF?'.

sexmusic:

stripped // shiny toy guns [depeche mode cover]

download: amazon | itunes

Dear guy-with-the-tattoo-of-a-cross-on-his-lower-hip,

This song reminds me of you. You were awesome. I kinda wish I'd gotten your name.

(via 2010fifaworldcup, pime)

I know we’ll get sick of vuvuzuela jokes one day, but today is not that day.

Swear to god, this will be the only vuvuzela post. Unless something even more hilarious comes along.

Oh hello...

I hear it's traditional to create a 'Welcome' post when you first start a blog so that people know what they're getting themselves into when they start reading. I suspect it's really to help keep the writer on track so that they don't get lost along the way and fill it with miscellaneous crap. Well, at least the miscellaneous crap that shouldn't be on the blog.

This blog was named after a phrase that I hear too often in the bureaucratic world I currently work in. It's misused and overused and I feel sorry for it. This is my way of saving it, although I will probably hurt it harder than any egotistical middle manager before me.

If you are my current manager, then this is a hobby that I work on in my spare time.

If you are not my current manager, then this is a way for me to cope with a tearfully boring job. It's a means to be productive during the work day and create something that will help me re-connect with my first 3 loves: reading, writing, being a smart-arse.

I don't quite know what this will be filled with yet. There will be links and pictures and posts. Pretty standard really. 

We'll see what happens. It can be an adventure.

This post is dedicated to Coco. She is a little dynamo.

Because it's important

Most of the short life of this blog has been consisted of me doing two things: ranting and being a smart-arse. Which is good. It's what I do. This post is different. Suck it up.

While doing a google search for more info on prostate cancer I stumbled upon a blog about one NZ man's journey as he deals with prostate cancer. It is honest, clear, simple, thorough and informative. Above all, it's incredibly, almost brutally, personal. I couldn't stop reading it.

The whole website is wonderfully informative - filled with links, news stories, survivor stories, treatment and dietary advice, ethnic issues and a load of other information. Prostate cancer claims the lives of so many NZ men and it's important to have blogs like that which inform people in such a simple way. The author exposes so much. It's kinda breathtaking.

Why am I telling you this? While reading it I was shocked to find that I knew the author of this blog. His name is Jim Tucker and he taught me how to write. His voice still haunts me whenever I type out a badly worded sentence (this is alarmingly often). I will be forever grateful to him for accepting me in his Journalism course while I was still a wildly arrogant, unconfident, shit-for-brains kid and giving me the foundation to achieve my childhood dream of becoming a storyteller. He's currently the journalism tutor at Whitireia. So, here's to you, Mr Tucker. My small shout-out to the man who taught me how to "fill in the spaces between the ads" in newspapers.

Now, back to the regularly scheduled snark and rant.