Monthly Archives: March 2017

Better a Couple of Blokes Pashing…

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I really don’t like getting into debates that I don’t think about much.
Screen Shot 2017-03-19 at 9.28.26 AM Don’t get me wrong, I am continuously up for an argument, but most of the time it is for my own enjoyment.

But, this morning I read OUR, yes our, immigration minister Peter Dutton  warned CEO’s to “stick to their knitting”, and said the Turnbull government “would not be bullied” into changing its stance on gay marriage.

Now normally if people ask me what I think of gay marriage, I say, I don’t.

What the fuck has it got to do with me.  Everyone I meet I immediately bring sexuality into the conversation so that I can disclose that I am heterosexual, plus, I find the debate… well…. distasteful.

Not because I think a couple of blokes pashing at the alter is distasteful, but, because if society is more worried about two of its’ members loving each other and wanting to spend their lives together than:

  • Our soldiers dying fighting wars over…. fuck knows what they are over.
  • Aboriginal communities living worse than 3rd world countries.
  • Hunger and kids dying in 3rd world countries.
  • Politicians salaries and honesty.
  • The debate on climate change.
  • The road toll.
  • Domestic violence.
  • etc etc etc etc

… if they are more worried about gay marriage than the list above (which is twice as long as this, no, make that 10 times longer than this) then we are all doomed.

I just don’t get it!  We are allowing, even legislating in favour of things that hurt our society – often hurt our souls unretrievable; yet, we won’t let a couple of people do something that I can’t see hurting anyone.

I’m not going to discuss divorce here – because most times everyone gets hurt some way or another in divorce – but, in a divorce (other than the disgrace of domestic violence) it is usually a civil (both figuratively and legally!) situation with the biggest argument is who gets the house and who gets to turn the kids against the other one.

But, gay marriage – what the fuck!  How can that hurt anyone.

I was chatting to a mate the other day (a bloody Catholic, so I pointed out he was a member of the worlds largest criminal organisation – in jest of course – please don’t sue me Pope Francis!) who I thought was a pretty open and accepting thinker.  He said he believed in gay marriage but (I love the ‘but’ at this point – and not in a gay way!) it should be a civil thing and have nothing to do with the church.  I thought a couple of things at this point:

  • Gay marriage in his view was okay, legally, just don’t tell God about it.
  • Who said he spoke for God, because he was.
  • It was nice that he didn’t take the normal church view of all gays go to hell – or maybe he did and the marriage thing was all a clever ploy so that at the Pearly Gates St Peter already had the documentation to send you straight to hell.
  • It was one of the lesbians we were drinking with turn to shout in the round and her and her partner (wife – well not yet – they had only been together 17 years – which is longer than any of my marriages!) they had wandered over to a booth and were now grinding each other in a mild pawn scene when alI wanted was a beer and to stop trying to convince a Catholic he was wrong.

It all became too much so I started talking about the footy.  Immediately the AFL Womens’ League was brought up so I went for a piss and never came back.

I write what I think here, I write what I want (it’s my blog!), I also try to write what I feel.

I feel, we should stop giving such a fuck, and endlessly debating, stuff that doesn’t hurt the world (your soul is another matter – and completely and rightfully a matter for yourself!) and is so unimportant in comparison to some of the stuff that is going on – but, our lives are drowning is trivial and bullshit.

Please don’t be offended GLTGBDXSH groups (I didn’t know the acronym.  I knew it started with Gay and Lesbian so I randomly pressed keys for the others as I don’t care enough about the acronym for me to even pop of this page and Google it) – it’s not that I don’t care about you, its that I don’t care enough about you in comparison to other things that could kill me tomorrow, or economically destroy me and our country, save a childs’ life, stop another domestic violence death, save a kid from dying in a gutter from drugs or being molested (probably by a Catholic)…..

Come on world, come on straight people, come on gay people (and all the other acronym people), come on Catholics (I withdraw that one – they’re not listening…) come on politicians – more important, come on community and Business leaders….. fucking concentrate, just for a moment on the things that matter.

I hope one day I can go to a proper gay wedding.  I have been to a few ‘pretend’ ones as the law says they are not real – but, do we need the law to say our love and commitment is not pretend – maybe, who knows, I know I don’t.  I know one thing, oppose gay marriage or march down the street in support, either way it doesn’t save one kids from starvation.

I do hope in the future I can go to a legal gay wedding; after all I’m a heterosexual male Australian and I’ll go anywhere for free beer.

PS:  I left the ‘stick to their knitting’ phrase alone in Dutton’s comments as it was just too much to tackle before my first beer of the day – anyone know where there’s a wedding today!

PPS:  This blog may contain a few typos and grammatical errors, but I just couldn’t care enough to proof read this more than once – I’d get my wife to do it, but she’s knitting me a jumper and i don’t want to interrupt her before she cooks my dinner.

 

 

 

Better Dancers – in Death, Thank God We Can’t Hear the Music

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I haven’t written a post for a while as I have been busy – not with life, as that is always there, and always gets in the way.  I have been busy with a support group called the 801 Group.

It is a support group for Police in South Australia, their family, friends and colleagues who suffer from PTSD, stress, anxiety and depression.  I have written a few posts about it in the past.

The group started about 18 months ago with a few of us getting together and having a coffee and a chat.  We went into the wider world and started a Facebook Page which slowly grew although attendance at the meetings waxed and waned but rarely into double figures.

During those meetings we shared horrible, tragic, frightening stories; and we looked in each others eyes and knew we were, finally understood.  We supported each other, received a few phone calls from others (a lot actually, if you count Facebook personal messages) who just could not make it to the meetings.  Most couldn’t make it to the meetings because they were psychologically too damaged, to embarrassed or no one else knew they were suffering (many were taking annual leave instead of telling anyone of there battles).

I was one of the founders of the group and did it because I didn’t want any more cops to have nowhere to go.  I didn’t want anymore cops to suicide – if just hurt my heart too much (even when I didn’t know them).

Our little group (ignored by the South Australia Police who sent us a nice letter saying they acknowledged we existed but they had their own stuff – and the Police Association of South Australia who printed a letter from us in their Journal and then said they wouldn’t give us their ‘imprimatur’ – if I here that fucking word one more time I will scream – plus PASA had their own stuff, their own long game, wait and see we are talking to the Government….. blah, blah, fucking blah!)…. meanwhile our little group met and did what we could for each other.

Out little Facebook page wandered along, picking up a member or two – we actually celebrated a few days ago as we had reach 250 members…

Then it happened again.  A well liked, active, dedicated young cop killed himself.

I have to say it.  Every time, every-fucking-time, it happens, I cry.

I retired 5 months ago, it’s not my problem, I don’t want to go on a crusade, I don’t want to fight ‘city hall’, I want a peaceful life in the country…..

But….  I cry, every-fucking-time the blue ribbon appears on the Facebook page, every time I hear the story when they ring me (again!) about another Cop who ‘topped’ themselves, I cry.

We lost Sharynne Grant such a short time ago.

We lost Ashley Meeks a few days ago.

I think PASA and SAPOL lost their humanity a lot longer ago.

And now it begins.

The media (the fucking Merchants of Misery) go into a frenzy, not to report on a tragedy but to get an angle that no one else has, so they can sell it and get ratings, page clicks or sell papers…..

SAPOL takes the company line and have a really important ‘Commissioner’s Enquiry’ for a few months, form a new project team to do another project, introduce a new support scheme…..

PASA blames low numbers, they blame SAPOL, they blame the government (but not to much) they have a new enquiry, fuck that we’ll have a national enquiry; beat that little State SAPOL, we have the Police Federation of Australia – hear that…. National Enquiry mate, fucking National..!!!

And they dance and they talk, and they promise, and recommend, and sell and sell and sell.  And they sell that they understand and they will fix it and they are on our side….

And they sell the message, the party line, the government policy, the non-committal heartfelt sentiments of our caring leader – and they sell and they sell ……

And when the dust settles and the sales are over, we look and realise, the only thing that has been sold, is us – we have been sold out!

And a few days ago the blue ribbon started to appear again.  I cried before I even knew who it was even before I logged in – not again, not fucking again!

So I sat at my little desk, to check how the 801 Facebook page was going – how my mates were going, and thought I better get a meeting together (as they had stopped a few months ago because there wasn’t enough of us to organise them…), I flicked on the screen, logged on and found that 2700 people had joined our site in 48 hours.

Yes, 2700 (2953 total membership at its peak to be exact).

I cried.  I was overwhelmed.  I learned of Ashley Meeks (who I did know) and I thought of him now dead, seeing his mates rally.

But the rally was one of pain, of fucking heartbreak and the sadness that hurts your heart like nothing else.

And I read the posts and I cried, most of the time.

Hundreds, no thousands, in the Police family were pouring their hearts out, disclosing horror, upon horror, upon horror – some people had to leave the site (and I get it – I would be gone if I didn’t run it and have a few backing me up!) because it hurt them too much, or reminded them to much, just reading the stories.

And there was anger, and sadness and the loudest rally cry I had heard in the Police for years….. a call from the heart, a call to stop this horror….

….But, within the rally cry I started to notice something else, not from the rallying members, but from somewhere else….

I started hearing in the background, the faintest sound of music….. and slowly, but surely, the music got louder, until, at exactly the right cue, the fucking bullshit dancers (some were even marienettes this time – a nice twist!) appeared….  and started dancing the same old fucking dance again….

And I cried.

I shut down my Facebook page, I turned off my phone, said “Fuck ’em” and hugged my wife, who said “I love you, are you going to be okay”  and I said “Yeah, it was never me I was worried about” and she said “Yeah, I know”.

So, I wrote this.  On my blog – for me, for Ash and Sharynne – because even though I only personally knew one of them…. I miss both of them so badly…

I have heard the call for being positive, for not slagging SAPOL or PASA or the GOVERNMENT, for working collaboratively, for sitting around in bean bags and singing kumbaya and talking about our feelings…..

… and all the time I hear the music and see the dancers dancing ….

I’m going to bed.  Hopefully I won’t dream.