Australia’s federal election lingers yonder the melancholic horizon. In fact, on the 4th of August this year, Mr Rudd, or rather, should I say, Prime Minister Rudd (the Primest of all ministers) called the election date for the 7th of September.
As you would surely know, voting in Australia is compulsory. So given this pressing voting necessity, which, if breached, is reproached with a fine, when the 7th of September finally rolls around, I’ll be forced to vote.
I’ll be forced to peel myself out of the comfort of my warm and smelly sheets, walk down the street, or to wherever the hell I am registered, and do my part as a microcosm of “the People,” as a proper, participating member of civil society – of this highly revered “democratic” (LOL) system whence we live – and place my vote.
Or rather, donkey my vote, which will read something like this:
“I hereby place my oh so valuable vote in a man, not a party, who embodies the “suppository” of all of the wisdom that this desolate world has ever known – Me, with a capital Em: A whimsical wizard hailing from a far away land known to Earthlings as Planet Albatron.”
Some people, assholes I call them, think ill of people who, like me, choose to “waste” one of the powers afforded to them by “the Man,” a power that our forefathers and our forefather’s forefathers had to work so hard to develop, and then fight to keep.
I say – fuck those people.
Actually, I considered voting in this election. I considered doing some research, some meticulous research, to unearth the actual, true, real policies underlying the beguiling political rhetoric that you, the leaders, employ to perturb and hide what your parties actually stand for. (Do you even know exactly what your parties stand for?) I did. I truly did (for at least a few minutes).
But then, while watching the both of you, Mr Ruddalicious and Mr Abbottello, flap your gums on television, burning vitriolic holes through your opposition, I thought, on a merry whim – fuck this shit. What was I thinking? Vote for one of these whinging, wannabe gladiators? No thanks.
There, I landed back on my cloud of sanity. Where, on this lucid cloud, having returned to my senses, I determined that I would, indeed, donkey the shit out of my vote.
And here’s why.
First of all, never in my right mind would I vote for Tony Abbott. Not because I think that he’s a vague puppet who’s completely incapable of running the country I currently occupy, but rather, because… hmm, I’m struggling to fluff up the above.
It’s not personal, Mr Abbot. It’s just that I can’t help but feel that you are a misogynistic, racist, probably homophobic, pathological elitist, whose use of the word “fair dinkum” sends nervous shivers spiralling down my spine; cause really, despite my natural aversion to that Aussie colloquialism, you’re about as “fair dinkum” as Hitler was peaceful.
Oh, and a few years ago, in my Constitutional Law class, I had to read an article you wrote back in 2009, which, if I’m to be honest, read as if it were written by a twelve year old. (Not that that’s a big issue, really, but inevitably, it led me to feel that your knowledge of… well, stuff, is about as hollow as is your contrived political persona).
And as for you, Mr Rudd, I was tempted to vote for you. I really was. Granted, the reasons driving my desire to place a Big Tick next to your name in the ballot box was, initially at least, to do my part in preventing Mr Abbott from taking the reigns of Australia’s horse. Nevertheless, I was tempted – really, truly, sincerely.
But then, Mr Rudd, after watching your campaign pan out on television (which is a rarity for me… the whole television thing, that is) I decided against it. You ruined it; I’m not sorry to say.
Why did you ruin it? Well, that’s easy. The reason is because your entire campaign seems centred around degrading your “liberal” opposition, instead of clarifying and making accessible to the public the policies that you allegedly represent.
You see, I already know that Abbott is a raging misogynist, a racist, a hater of “boat people,” and, most probably, though I don’t like assuming, a homophobe. I get it. I really do. Abbott himself makes no attempt to conceal these points; in fact, it seems that he prides himself on them, wearing them loudly and proudly on his flapping lapel.
I don’t need you to keep reminding me of this point. What I need you to do is present your ideas of Australia’s future in a lucid form, at least to the best of your current knowledge and ability.
Because you see, Mr Rudd, and you might as well take note too, Tony; the policies that governments draw up and then use to regulate and manage its people, are complicated. Exceptionally complicated.
There graphs and tables and statistics and complex academic papers and foreign agendas and blah! There’s lots of stuff, an enigmatic web of stuff that must be taken into consideration, extrapolated, analysed, chopped up, and then presented in a bullet point form that’s easily digestible.
Reducing the complex to something that’s simple as well as accurate is, well it’s nearly impossible. I get it.
Actually, the above point is evinced perfectly when Jaymes Diaz, the “hard working local lawyer,” a candidate for some marginal Western [political] seat of Greenway, attempts to explain the liberal party’s “six point plan” to stop the boats, in his conversation with some interviewer fella that’s gone viral (ish) on YouTube:
Diaz: “We have a six point plan to make sure that we do stop the boats.”
Interviewer: “Six points, could you run through them with us.”
Diaz: “Well, I can run through all the details of the points. But, look…”
Interviewer: “The six points…”
Diaz: “… Here’s the thing; the boats started under Kevin Rudd… and we have a plan, to stop the boats.”
Interviewer: “And the six points are?”
Diaz: “Well, one of the points would be, the key point would be, we’re stopping the boats… we have a plan to stop the boats.”
Interviewer: “…what are the other five points?”
Diaz: “I’ve answered your question.”
Interviewer: “You’ve said turn back the boats, you told me it was a six point plan, what about the other five points?”
Diaz: *after a short silence, and a few farts* “Well, we have a plan to stop the boats.”
(Ironically, Mr Diaz is quite clearly of an ethnic background. Perhaps one of the six points in his plan is to send himself back to where his parents came?)
See! I really do get it. Policies are difficult to describe. Especially when you’re trying to do so in an air of calculated, coherent simplicity. It’s an art form, and not one that everyone can manage – quite obviously.
Which is exactly why transparency, sincerity, and cogent simplicity are such important factors to embody into your party’s campaign.
(Granted, as politicians, I’m not sure whether either of you are familiar with the aforementioned terms – transparency, sincerity… hmm, you’ve probably heard of simplicity. Dictionary.com will be able to provide a compendious explanation if so required).
We, “the People” are expected to trust you; we’re expected to repose (take note, Mr Abbott) faith in you. In return, however, we, “the People” expect that you will be honest with us, and give us a reason – however small that reason might be – to place our trust in your hands, to guzzle up your words with obedient credulity, with hope and prosperity in mind.
Because you are our leaders, our carers, our father figures, our mother figures, and the heads to our collective neck, we need to be able to trust you, to find confidence in you.
The common voter, the masses, the 99%, will have little grasp over the intricate details webbing the policies you each espouse. The common voter, the masses, will not understand to any substantial degree the meaning underlying the words you so reservedly speak. I know I’m harping on this point, but it’s important.
And it’s important because, and again, this is precisely the reason you must be open and honest with us. In the words of Winston Churchill: “The best argument against democracy is a five minute conversation with the average voter.”
Please, for the love of Satan, try to see that your job as our leaders is to overcome this hurdle. Your job, at its fundamental core, at its deepest base, is to instil into the minds of we, the People, the ideas and concepts and frameworks that you, our leaders, wish to impose upon us. For, unless you show your cards before we give you ours, our “democratic system” means less than nothing - regardless of how brilliant your plans are for our country’s future – if we don’t even know what it is that we’re voting for.
It is your job as our leaders to lead us, and to keep us informed as to the direction in which you plan to head.
And until that day comes, which it has not yet (and most likely never will) I will be forced, by the unconscious cogs of my mind’s eye, and by my overbearing conscience, to vote for myself: A convivial wizard who’s absolutely no interest in how you puppeteers puppet we, your subjects.
Because when push comes to shove and when stars turn to dust, you are our representatives. You are, in this lovely system that we’ve adopted, the shadow of our collective desires, the silhouette of our collective hopes and our collective dreams.
You are ours, and we not yours.
For we are “the People” – and together, we will stand united, as One.
(JUST KIDDING, of course. We are (the people are) discordant and inharmonious as an orgy whose participants are all first timers. Oh well. Gotta laugh at it, I suppository).
Humans-are-weird. And politicians make for some of the weirdest humans of all.
 ”Diaz passes up chance to explain six point plan” (theaustralian.com.au)