On the Guatemalan Adoption e-group I belong to there is currently a big discussion going on because one of the member's 7 year old daughter was sexually abused by a neighbour's 13 year old son. It's a horrible story. The lady concerned is being very cautious about how she proceeds and while she wants help for her daughter and her family she also seems to want to somewhat protect the boy, or at least she isn't keen to rush off to the police.


The responses to this have been very harsh. People are insisting that she go to the police, someone even wrote "once a pedophile always a pedophile". Whoa. I am almost as horrified at the reactions as the offence. (Let me clarify by saying there hasn't been actual intercourse but what the poor mother is calling "penetration with toys".)


Now I'm not saying it isn't an awful situation but I am thinking:


a) This could be my son.


b) This could be my daughter.


c) How many of us were involved in some sort of sex-type play as children which our parents never found out about and which was little more than silly experimentation which certainly hasn't left us scarred for life? I certainly was. Would our parents have even considered calling the police should some of it been discovered?


d) Is our society's paranoia and hypersensitivity over sexuality and pedophilia and the conflicting messages of over-sexualisation causing us to go nuts where children and genitals are concerned?


e) Is a 13 year old boy who coerces a 7 year old girl into sexualised play necessarily a sexual predator or a pedophile or a criminal? As a society do we seal his fate by casting judgement on him as a monster? How would my feelings sway if he was my son or she was my daughter?


These are tough emotive questions but judging by many of the responses I have read as a society we are rabidly keen to crucify a young boy who may be a monster or may just be a stupid, naughty boy. I don't pray but I do fervently hope that my own children are never unlucky enough to be "victims" or stupid and unlucky enough to be "monsters".

I wanted to comment on Estelle Getty's passing last week. She was a big part of The Golden Girls, a tv program which really meant something to me, and continues to do so. Even now when I catch half an episode it still makes me feel "something". Yes, it was a corny show in the typical Hollywood sitcom tradition. But the theme of the show was something which has and always will mean something special to me - female friendship. In my life it plays a starring role and I dare say it's the bedrock of society throughout history and throughout the world.

Rest in peace, Estelle. Thank you for being my friend.*


* You just know I had to put that in somewhere.

I'm really glad Terri won Big Brother. Mainly as she is a woman and there have been mainly male winners (and not particularly deserving ones, e.g. 2006 winner Jamie being one of my least favourite). Also, I can relate much more to her these days, as I'm sadly much closer to her 52 years than I am to runner up Rory's 22 years).

Speaking of Rory, he is a great example of why I hate the smart arses like Nobbi and want them evicted. When Gretel used to host BB she used to say "vote to keep in the housemates which make things interesting in the house". I suppose shit-stirrer Nobbi (and those like him in the past, say Paul) do make things "interesting" but what they also do with their domineering Alpha male bullshit behaviour is intimidate other males and keep them "down". Therefore as viewers we don't really get to know people like Rory until they have some breathing room once dicks like Nobbi have been evicted.

Since Nobbi went (and not a minute too soon) Rory has really come out and his personality got a chance to be explored a bit more. And I grew to really like him. I guess he reminded me a great deal of my Big Jay when I first met him almost 16 years ago (sans dreadlocks of course). A great big real Aussie bloke, a little rough round the edges but with a huge heart of gold.

Well, that tells you that I have way too much spare time on hands to think so deeply about shit like that. No wonder I never quite manage to catch up on the real pressing issues in my life.

I really love Jon and Kate plus 8. I find it entertaining and awe-inspiring. I find it helps me feel better about my own parenting skills (or lack thereof). When I'm feeling down and/or out of control (which is a fair bit of the time) I tend to think "it could be worse, we could be Jon and Kate and have 8 little critters running us ragged". Everything in life is relative, after all.

But apart from all that I just really like Jon and Kate. They just seem like my kind of people. They are REAL, unlike those annoying bloody Duggars whose holier-than-thou carry on makes me feel sick (and terribly inadequate).

I guess the difference is I want to hang out with Jon and Kate, they'd be cranky and fun and hilarious and you could say "I could kill my kid" and they'd know you mean it and at the same time love your kids more than anything. As oppossed to the Duggars who I'd just want to take a pick axe to because they'd be saying God things to me all day long and yapping on about children being a miracle and a gift from God, blah blah blah.

Sadly I think I predicted this long before little Everly was even born. The photos are so cute though.

Some people have itchy feet, can't stay in one spot for too long. I'm afraid Anthony just has itchy penis (well, you know, NOT in the medical sense). I mean poor little Everly is only 9 months old, so he didn't give it a super long go, did he.

Nevermind, onwards and upwards (very apt for dear AK). Hope he's a better dad than he is a partner.

I spend a lot of blog time complaining about my children.

Here I just want to take a moment to say how sweet, gorgeous and precious they are.

Last night, as we were slinking around the house, tidying up after an afternoon of deep humiliation watching the Swans' being kicked in the guts by the piss poor Hawks with our Hawk loving neighbours, I poked my head into the kids' wing and there they were, my little angels, playing happily with the Swans balloons we had somewhat optimistically blown up earlier in the day. Later again, as I put laundry away in their wardrobes, they sat together at Marianna's Dora the Explorer table and drew pictures, quietly working away together, occasionally exchanging a comment or a giggle.

These beautiful moments make my heart swell and my emotions soar.

Over three years ago I came upon a curious thing called a BLOG. It belonged to my cyber friend Julie who was emerging from an infertility saga (which I could relate to) and moving into an adoption from Guatemala saga (which I could also relate to). I loved her writing style and her wonderful sense of humour. Her blog was a joy to read and it made me think I could write something similar. Thus Deep Kick Girl was born.

I haven't been checking Julie's blog lately because she had stopped writing for sometime and I sort of started forgetting to check in. For some reason last night I checked back in and I'm so glad (and sad) that I did. She talked about the death of Andrea Collins-Smith the woman behind Punk Rock Mommy. It is worth reading just for her final entry, written from her death bed. It is one of the saddest, most beautiful, moving and uplifting things I have ever read.

Please take a moment if you can.

RIP Big Brother.

I've hated you, I've loved you, I'll miss you.

... and furthermore (while I'm up here on my very spacious, lonely bandwagon)...

From The Australian "Cut & Paste" July 9, 2008

Garnaut might be right, give or take a trillion dollars

ABC political editor Chris Uhlmann, who trained for the priesthood, bares his soul on climate change on Insiders.

As a former seminarian, one of the things that strikes me about this debate is its theological nature. That's essentially that we have sinned against the environment and that we are now being punished, and the only way we can escape that punishment is to wear a hairshirt for the rest of our lives and hope that in the next life, and in our children's lives, and in our children's children's lives, that things will get better.

Now, I'm willing to sign up for that. But this is a very long caravan and there are plenty of lunatics attached to the end of it.

I do not believe every proposition that's been put. When the weather department can tell me what the weather is going to be like next Friday with any certainty and Treasury can get to within a million dollars of what the surplus is going to be next year, I'll believe an economic model that marries those two things and casts them out over a hundred years.

I'll make one prediction: that whatever number (Ross) Garnaut puts on where we'll be in 2100, it will be at least a trillion dollars either way wrong.


EXACTLY right! How many millions, trillions, gazillions are we spending on this nonsense because no-one has the balls, especially now that we've travelled down the road someway and an admission at a high level could be a tad embarrassing, to stand up and say ENOUGH OF THIS BULLSHIT?

Amen, praise the Lord. Someone who sees the light.

GLOBAL VIEW By BRET STEPHENS (in The Wall Street Journal)

Global Warming as Mass Neurosis July 1, 2008; Page A15

Last week marked the 20th anniversary of the mass hysteria phenomenon known as global warming. Much of the science has since been discredited. Now it's time for political scientists, theologians and psychiatrists to weigh in.

What, discredited? Thousands of scientists insist otherwise, none more noisily than NASA's Jim Hansen, who first banged the gong with his June 23, 1988, congressional testimony (delivered with all the modesty of "99% confidence").

The New True Believers
But mother nature has opinions of her own. NASA now begrudgingly confirms that the hottest year on record in the continental 48 was not 1998, as previously believed, but 1934, and that six of the 10 hottest years since 1880 antedate 1954. Data from 3,000 scientific robots in the world's oceans show there has been slight cooling in the past five years, never mind that "80% to 90% of global warming involves heating up ocean waters," according to a report by NPR's Richard Harris.

The Arctic ice cap may be thinning, but the extent of Antarctic sea ice has been expanding for years. At least as of February, last winter was the Northern Hemisphere's coldest in decades. In May, German climate modelers reported in the journal Nature that global warming is due for a decade-long vacation. But be not not-afraid, added the modelers: The inexorable march to apocalypse resumes in 2020.

This last item is, of course, a forecast, not an empirical observation. But it raises a useful question: If even slight global cooling remains evidence of global warming, what isn't evidence of global warming? What we have here is a nonfalsifiable hypothesis, logically indistinguishable from claims for the existence of God. This doesn't mean God doesn't exist, or that global warming isn't happening. It does mean it isn't science.

So let's stop fussing about the interpretation of ice core samples from the South Pole and temperature readings in the troposphere. The real place where discussions of global warming belong is in the realm of belief, and particularly the motives for belief. I see three mutually compatible explanations.

The first is as a vehicle of ideological convenience. Socialism may have failed as an economic theory, but global warming alarmism, with its dire warnings about the consequences of industry and consumerism, is equally a rebuke to capitalism. Take just about any other discredited leftist nostrum of yore – population control, higher taxes, a vast new regulatory regime, global economic redistribution, an enhanced role for the United Nations – and global warming provides a justification. One wonders what the left would make of a scientific "consensus" warning that some looming environmental crisis could only be averted if every college-educated woman bore six children: Thumbs to "patriarchal" science; curtains to the species.

A second explanation is theological. Surely it is no accident that the principal catastrophe predicted by global warming alarmists is diluvian in nature. Surely it is not a coincidence that modern-day environmentalists are awfully biblical in their critique of the depredations of modern society: "And it repented the LORD that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart." That's Genesis, but it sounds like Jim Hansen.

And surely it is in keeping with this essentially religious outlook that the "solutions" chiefly offered to global warming involve radical changes to personal behavior, all of them with an ascetic, virtue-centric bent: drive less, buy less, walk lightly upon the earth and so on. A light carbon footprint has become the 21st-century equivalent of sexual abstinence.

Finally, there is a psychological explanation. Listen carefully to the global warming alarmists, and the main theme that emerges is that what the developed world needs is a large dose of penance. What's remarkable is the extent to which penance sells among a mostly secular audience. What is there to be penitent about?

As it turns out, a lot, at least if you're inclined to believe that our successes are undeserved and that prosperity is morally suspect. In this view, global warming is nature's great comeuppance, affirming as nothing else our guilty conscience for our worldly success.

In "The Varieties of Religious Experience," William James distinguishes between healthy, life-affirming religion and the monastically inclined, "morbid-minded" religion of the sick-souled. Global warming is sick-souled religion.

I know it's wrong to covet a handbag that would cover our grocery bill for 6 months + but I want this bag sooooo bad.

It's a Fendi "To You" bag and I found it on Bluefly for US$3,176 (that's 20% off RR). I heard Kyle talking about Jackie O's ugly new bag, looked it up and now I just have to have it.

I can't believe there isn't a cheap copy on Ebay.

As a matter of fact there is something wrong with me!

I have some alarming news to report.

Aliens (or possibly the CIA) have kidnapped the Sydney Swans and replaced them with bumbling look-alikes who have obviously never played the noble game of AFL; these imposters don't seem to be able to pass or even pick up the ball, they can't run or tackle and find it impossible to kick a goal.

Obviously as a Swans' supporter I am deeply concerned by this development and can only hope that the authorities are able to find the Swans and return them to us before next week's game against Hawthorn.

If you've seen Barry Hall, Ryan O'Keefe or even Spida Everitt wondering around dazed and confused in your suburb could you please contact the authorities as soon as possible.

I subscribe to the Gleebooks weekly email which tells me what events they have coming up. Very occassionally something great comes along, e.g. Ian Rankin talking about the last Inspector Rebus book.

Each week I trawl through the book readings and author evenings and approx. 98% of them are hard-line lefty bollocks and global warming shite. So it serves me right for deleting last week's email without evening glancing at it.

When I finally read this week's update I found that only a few tickets were left for AUGUSTEN BURROUGHS and DAVID SEDARIS.

What. The. Fuck?

Two of my very favourite (gay American) authors talking about their new books within two weeks of each other in August. So I rang early Friday morning and managed to nab two tickets to each event.

Happy happy joy joy!

Any fans out there want to join me?

We went to see Lenny Henry at the State Theatre last night. It still blows my mind that such a gorgeous piece of old architecture and internal decor has been allowed to survive. It is always an extra thrill to be going to see an artist at this venue.

Lenny was fan-bloody-tastic. He is such a funny, talented man. Not only is he very funny but he can sing too. What is it with comedians who can sing? Jason Alexander, now Lenny.

I am in awe of talented people. Probably because I can't sing, dance, play an instrument or even tell a half decent joke. I guess that's why talented people are revered and we line up to pay big dollars to see and hear them. The rest of us just have to make do with shuffling through our mediocre lives, warmed by a few brief moments in the company of the "special" ones.

Fuck me. How did a post about Lenny Henry turn into such a morose load of bullshit? Sorry.

I become Santa's Little Helper when I hear Global Warming bollocks on the media. Blah blah blah blah. Just as well, because when I do tune in I start to giggle uncontrolably.

Apparently the Emperor is still very much naked.

Some people are just fucked.

Let me tell you a story.

Marianna goes to day care at Acre Woods Day Care Centre in Gladesville. It's located in a complex of industrial units. There are maybe a dozen cleary marked parking spots right out the front, stating who the parking spots belong to and that they are for dropping off and collecting of children.

Across the driveway from the Centre is a gym which has it's own set of parking spaces. Not a day goes by that there aren't some cars parked in the Day Care Centre's parking spots which obviously belong to people using the gym. During the main part of the day this isn't an issue but in the mornings and late afternoons it is because there are often no parking spots outside the Centre for parents to use.

There is parking out on the street but it involves walking up/down a ramp. Now parents are only there for 10 minutes at drop off/pick up time - in and out. Gym goers are generally there for an hour or more. It would seem logical to anyone with more than a dozen brain cells that if you are going to the gym and can't get a park in one of their spots that you could park in the street and take the short walk to the gym (what's a bit more exercise).

Anyway, yesterday afternoon when I pulled in to pick up my bundle of joy, my sweet little treasure (are you detecting the subtle note of sarcasm?) there were no parking spots outside the Centre. As I hovered waiting for a spot to come up I saw two young blokes, gym bags in hand get out of a van and head towards the gym. A mum who was at the time putting her toddler in the car obviously had had enough and said something to them (I couldn't hear her but I could tell she was agitated). They said something back and kept walking. Obviously she lost the plot because she ran into the gym after them and continued yelling. At that time I parked in a spot that had just become available and as I got of the car she got into hers and drove away, clearly very distressed.

The main goon stood in the gym door and was yelling at her and swearing. In the heat of the moment I yelled over at him that he shouldn't have been parking there and pointed at the signs. He said something really smart like "well, I've been parking there for a year" (hmmmm, well that's OK then!). Then he continued swearing and yelling how he wasn't going to be spoken to like that (in reference to the other woman's comments). I told him not to swear as there were children around and said "you're a big man". He continued going off, "f" words flying. My heart racing, I went into the centre.

The point of my story is that people just aren't courteous any more. These young men are just selfish pigs, they don't give a shit about anyone else, let alone the needs of young children and their parents. We must appear like weird aliens to them, as they peer at us from their ego-fuelled universe, wondering why the hell we can't just leave them alone to go about their hedonistic ways.

I go around with a constant level of underlying built-in guilt, constantly apologising to people in the shops for touching them, even if they were the ones to bump into me, always worried I'm in someone's way or somehow impeding them in my actions. That's also extreme and I am constantly annoyed with myself for this automatic apologising. But surely there's has to be a certain level of decency amongst the community, some level of caring about each other, simply "doing the right thing".

Is it a generational thing? My dad thinks it all started to go wrong with the women's movement demanding "equality" and that was the thin edge of the wedge when it comes to manners and civil behaviour. I don't think so. But there must be an explaination as to why people today are so rude and self-centred and plain obnoxious.

Any ideas?

You know I love reality TV as much (probably more so, much more so) than the next person.

But this is GOING WAY. TOO. FAR!

Britain's Missing Top Model

Even I wouldn't watch something this dreadful. Well, maybe just the first episode... but only so I can then take the high moral ground and whinge about it later.

Oh, who am I kidding?

Possibly my theme song?

Sing it to the tune of I Will Survive.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified.
When you said you had 10 inches, Lord I almost died!

But I'd spent so many years just waiting for a man that long,
that I grew strong, and I knew that I could take you on...

But there you are, another lie,

I was ready for a Big Mac and you've brought me a French fry!

I should have known that it was bulls***t, just a sad pathetic dream

Should have known there was no Anaconda lurking in those Jeans!

Go on now-go! , Walk out the door,

Don't you promise me 10 inches, then turn up with only 4!

Weren't you a brat to think I wouldn't find you out!?

Don't you know we're only joking when we say size don't count??!!

[Chorus] I will survive! I will survive!

Cuz as long as I have batteries,

My sex life's gonna thrive!

I will always have good sex, With a handful of latex!

I will survive! I will survive!

Hey! Hey!

It took all my self control not to laugh out loud,

When I saw your little weiner standing tall and proud!

But to hell with your ego and to hell with all your needs,

Now I'm saving all my lovin' for a cordless multispeed!

[Chorus] I will survive! I will survive!

Cuz as long as I have batteries,

My sex life's gonna thrive!

I will always have good sex, With a handful of latex!

I will survive! I will survive!

Hey! Hey!

* God only knows what goes on with the line spacing on Blogger.