101 Uses For A John Howard
There are only a few boxes of the definitive Howard biography left, so if you want one, sling me twenty bucks (including postage) and consider yourself lucky.
BUY WITH PAYPAL $20!
(you don’t need to be a member and can use your credit card)
DIRECT DEPOSIT ($20!)
email me and I’ll talk you through it.
SEND A CHEQUE ($20!)
Download the form.
Look, we’ve been awake for the past 72 hours having a bit of a read of the Anti-Terrorism Act, especially the bits about sedition, and we’d like you all to disregard the previous 100 Uses, forget you ever saw them, clear the cache, remove the hard drive and set it on fire and if you’re feeling especially patriotic and/or a bit peckish, eat the remains.
We would like to vigorously refute any suggestion that he is in any way an evil Dark Overlord, obese simian, member of the order rodentia, one of the undead, seafood of dubious freshness or fruit of any description.
We would also like to especially resile from the complete misunderstanding that he might resemble a floating turd, be a receptacle for urine or is in any other way involved in the disposal of human waste. In fact, we would even like to say that in all likelihood he doesn’t even go to the toilet.
John Howard? Fantastic fellow. The great thinker and orator George W. Bush, President of our infallible ally the United States of America and Leader of the Free World once referred to him as the Man of Steel, relating equally to his Übermensch status as to his undisputed sexual prowess.
Whether it’s rescuing a cat from a tree, saving a drowning kiddy from the ocean or simply battling the overwhelming forces of Terror with his extraordinary magnetic powers, John Howard is the greatest ever Australian, living or dead, including Don Bradman, and our dearest hope is that his reign as Prime Minister of this Lucky Country can somehow be made permanent.
…can I go home now?
Sure, a clone army of Cultural Stormtroopers is nice to have, but no Dark Lord of the Sith is complete without an invincible space station with which to destroy entire planets in a peremptory fashion. John W. Vader took delivery of his fully operational Death Senate after the 2004 election.
Sadly, “fully operational” is never quite the case with your average Death Star. They never work properly and they’re always back in the shop. A particular problem with this one was a persistent squeak in the Barnaby Joyce, which is impossible to get parts for.
Nonetheless, it’s a good life being a Dark Imperial Overlord with the power to choke recalcitrant minions with a mere wiggle of the fingers. The black outfit, while not as comfy as the tracksuit, lends a certain gravitas and also makes you impossible to dack.
Until now, it’s been a bit of a doddle. Recent opponent, Kim Jabba the Beazley didn’t move very fast and nobody could understand what he was saying without subtitles. Chewbacca Latham howled a lot but ended up making a monkey of himself and that other chap Jar Jar Crean was quickly relegated to a non-speaking role for obvious reasons.
However, there’s a New Hope on the horizon. A young hero Kev Skywalker has appeared out of nowhere with a tousled mop of blonde hair. There’s also that Princess Gillard with the weird hairdo, but apparently her boyfriend’s a hairdresser.
Anyway, Darth Howard’s still got one ace up his sleeve. At the appropriate moment, he will reveal his terrible secret, Kevin… I am your father.
…which pretty much explains everything.
Legend has it that the great warrior Achilles was dipped by his mother, Thetis, into the river Styx when he was a baby. This led to him becoming invulnerable everywhere except for his heel where she was holding onto him, leading to his eventual downfall involving years of expensive physiotherapy.
As politicians are generally at least 99% heel, this form of invulnerability has been somewhat ineffective for them.
Polytetrafluoroethylene, or teflon to the layperson, is used extensively to coat cookware with the process now being adapted to become the political equivalent of a christening in Stygian waters.
At some point in his political career, possibly at the same time he had his teeth capped, John was dipped into a large vat of the stuff, giving him a slippery, invulnerable, non-stick coating and as he was held by the eyebrows during the process, there’s been none of that Achilles Heel mucking about.
Sadly, even the best non-stick coating starts to get a bit manky after constant and prolonged use and we all know, once it starts to go, everything starts to stick.
Once-devastating bon mots pertaining to the blackness of the kettle on the opposite bench become muffled by the sheer weight of crud welded to the previously pristine surface.The only thing that will get it clean is an overnight soak in boiling water followed by a vigorous scrubbing with a metal scourer, which is fine when you’re doing it for fun, but a bit of a drag in the daily grind of an election campaign.
The sky is falling! The sky is falling! The skyyyy is faaaaalliiiiiinnnng! Seriously! I really mean it this time!
The world would be a dangerous place without fear. For example, just imagine the terrifying carnage on the roads without all those terrifying road safety ads showing us all the carnage on the roads. Or those “wombats next 5km” signs. Just imagine if you weren’t warned about all those bloody wombats. Shambles is the only word to describe it.
John “Chicken Little” Howard’s key goal as Prime Minister has been to keep us as relaxed, comfortable and scared shitless. While some might see a contradiction in the above strategy, that’s only because their senses have been dulled by their excessive latte intake.
Originally struck on the head by a spanner while pecking around a poorly maintained building site, John became convinced that the sky was falling due to an evil plot perpetrated by the union bosses of the Builders Labourers Federation and subsequently uncovered links to an evil cabal including the ACTU, boat people, the unemployed. single mothers, homosexuals, and of course, terrorists.
Some latte-addled members of the so-called elites even go so far to suggest that John is more “boy who cried wolf” than diminutive chicken, but that slanderous untruth is belied by Joe Hockey who recently pointed out that Liberal fear campaigns are based on fact whereas the Labor fear campaigns are complete fabrications, which should be bloody terrifying.
…with any luck.
I will be sitting at a card table signing books at Rektango, 5:30 to 7:30, Nov 16 in the Salamanca Arts Centre courtyard and if you can’t make that, then I’ve got a little of a Salamanca market stall on Saturday the 17th.
Otherwise, you can buy the John Howard book here.
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Posted 15 November 2007
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Picture yourself washing down a fresh Tasmanian oyster with a crisp white wine while you watch the sun set over the beautiful rolling hills of a Tamar Valley winery.
Boring huh?
Luckily, Tasmanian tourism is going to receive an overdue injection of adrenaline in the near future. Instead of endless tracts of pristine this and untouched that, you’ll be able to watch it all get chopped down and turned into pulp.
THRILL to the logtruck derby where the only thing on the road more endangered than you is the native wildlife! GASP at the spectacular stench of fugitive mill emissions! RETCH as you tuck into a dioxin-laced oyster! The days when the most exciting thing about a Tasmanian holiday was wondering when the rain will stop are long gone.
Humble fellow that he is, John can really only take credit for the pollution of Bass Strait as he left the approval for pulping the rest of Tasmania up to the state government where the only thing dodgier than the approvals process will be the local fisherman’s basket once the effluent starts flowing. No Save The Franklin fiascos for John – look at what a missed waterskiing opportunity that turned out to be.
So, next time you’re about to tuck into a slippery Bass Strait oyster with a slightly dodgy look about it, think of John Howard. It’s not really that much of a stretch.
It says something about the state of politics in Australia that the most telling political speech in 2007 would need subtitles (preferably with some exciting Kung Fu action as well) to be understood by 99% of Australians.
Yep, fresh, sweet and juicy Kevin Rudd’s short blast of Mandarin at APEC had John looking like the last grapefruit in the bowl.
Let’s be clear about this, nobody likes grapefruit. The only reason anyone ever eats grapefruit is if they don’t, they will die of a heart attack, and even then it’s not a done deal.
Sure, the grapefruit could go on and on and on about how its record of sound cholesterol management has kept your blood pressure at historically low rates, but no matter how much sugar you pour over it, you’re still tucking into a miserable bloody grapefruit which will squirt citric acid straight into your eye the moment you stick your spoon in.
In a contest between a mandarin and a grapefruit, the only thing the grapefruit’s really got going for it is it’s extraordinarily tough rind and the fact that they last forever (mainly because no bugger will eat one) but as long as the mandarin avoids getting into any bruising encounters it’s looking pretty good.
Back in 1998, Australians got an early glimpse of John’s grand vision for a happier and more harmonious workplace on the docks of Australia. Not only did the lure of lower pay and fewer conditions for all beckon invitingly, the new regime also promised full employment for big angry dogs. Sadly, big angry dogs and the associated hired goon and balaclava and baton manufacturing industries failed to achieve their potential in the ensuing years.
With the introduction of WorkChoices, a system I’m sure the electorate would have voted for if John had had the time to mention it during the last election campaign, an opportunity for a resurgence in large dog employment has arisen.
The average worker currently possesses an enormous tactical advantage in current AWA negotiations, with employers armed only with greater financial and administrative resources and the ability to sack the employee without recourse.
Legislation is in the works to have a large angry dog to be present at all workplace negotiations, with the employee given a large rare steak with which to defend themselves in the interests of fairness. AWA negotiations are sure to proceed extremely smoothly, with any associated emergency surgery or rabies shots to be provided by the employer in exchange for a few public holidays and the right to go to the toilet during office hours.
For this bold vision to work, Australia’s large angry dogs will need to be maintained at peak fitness at all times. The key is John Howard and his tracksuit. Dogs could be trained to obey only the wearer of the tracksuit while being walked to the point of exhaustion by the great man. The tracksuit would become the business suit of the new regime, with it being a sackable offence to wear the tracksuit when not in possession of an ABN.
You can now buy the book using PayPal, direct deposit or by sending a cheque. We’ll be picking up the books from the printer on Wednesday the 14th of November, but don’t let that stop you buying one now so I can send it to you as soon as I get one.
Books are $20 a throw (including GST) plus $3.50 postage for Australia or $10 for outside Australia.
There’s currently no plan to sell the books through bookstores, so your only way of getting one is through this site or at the launch at Rektango in Hobart This Friday (November 16).
I’ve also got in a new load of 500 fridge magnets, as the original 101 ran out a while ago. I’ll stick a free one into the first 500 books sold to keep your fridge safe from terror while you’re off reading.
Go on, you know you want one.
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