Just as our fair dinkum athletes would be better served competing against open competition, our fair dinkum Aborigines would be better served back home looking after their delinquent kids. And the pretend Aborigines? Well, they would be better served smoking dope on the beach while they wait for the Gold Coast Centrelink office to open.
My kids insisted on seeing the Commonwealth Games’ opening ceremony. Well, the “ceremony” appeared to be nothing more than a modernised, acid influenced version of a bloody corroboree!
I needed to bite my tongue until it hurt because I never seek to influence my kids with my politics, and I’m told not one of my eleven kids reads my Blog, so I doubt I have had any political influence on them at all… which is okay by me.
My older girls seem to have developed a decided verdant tinge and my boys are all sensibly conservative so I simply cannot have had a blanket leverage on their thinking, but I sometimes wish that I did have, because the girls appeared to have enjoyed that opening ceremony and they completely ignored the irony of fifty or so pretend Aboriginal Industry activists trying to disrupt it.
WTF were these activists complaining about? Was the opening ceremony a re-enactment of the arrival of James Cook? Was it a re-enactment of how we Europeans have developed a worthless island of internationally unwanted red dirt into a vibrant first world economy that could afford $35 billion a year to throw at Aboriginal demands?
Don’t think so.
So when a bunch of pretend Aborigines, dressed up as North American Red Indians waving gum tree branches around, began dancing to the lilting strains of a dozen melodic didgeridoos, I headed outside for a much needed smoke.
And what the hell was an Aboriginal flag doing there? More irony! It’s a shame the Aboriginal Industry activists don’t adopt a regime of active push-ups, then we might see a medal or two hanging around their necks in a winners’ ceremony…
I mean, it wouldn’t be all that hard to be competitive,
…not too much opposition in the VB-guzzling, wife-bashing and petrol-sniffing events.