Archive for the ‘gentle political commentary’ Category

Ms Gloria Harper

260 Save the Bay St

Mt Martha Vic 3678

Dear Gloria,

Rangas*against Climate Change (redheads, not animal shepherds) has identified you as a Person of Interest.  Please join our ranks.

RACC is dedicated to tackling climate change and saving the future (for the children). Of course, as an altrustic movement, we’re taking action to save all children, not just redheads.

There is a natural link between being a Ranga** and tackling global warming – we’re an endangered species, extra sensitive to pain, and not at all good in the sun – making us extremely vulnerable to the perils of harsh weather.

While the ascension of the Hon. Prime Minister Julia Gillard helped our profile, we were in fact established as early as 1802, by an ancestor of former prime minister James Scullin. Incidentally Scullin, rather than Gillard, was actually our first redhead prime minister, but this is little known because most of the photos of him are in black and white.

As a Strawberry Blonde, you will only be eligible for Class Two membership. However, you will be pleased to learn that our organization, which sanctions symbolic discrimination but hates practical discrimination, awards all our members the same rights and benefits. So effectively, Class Twos are treated as well as Class Ones (Deep Reds).

You may also be aware of recent allegations that RACC is affiliated with the fringe terrorist movement Ranger Al Bessiah, based in the Hot Valley. These maliciously generated rumours are completely unfounded. RACC is, and has always been, a purely non-violent redroots movement. We also deny all involvement with recent verbal attacks against Jennifer Hawkins. We simply do not engage in petty inter-haircolour conflict – in fact, we were the first NGO to congratulate her on her recent marriage.  

Gloria, our future is in your capable hands. Please consider filling out the attached form and making an important contribution to our cause.

Fiery Regards,

Sylvia Nockut

CEO, Rangas Against Climate Change

*Only RACC members are entitled to use the word Ranga. The term, referring to orangtans, is highly insulting. It objectifies us, making us feel like animals (albeit highly sought after, fiercely intelligent animals, possibly residing in tropical jungles). RACC makes the following point: would you call people with black hair ‘Gozzas’ (after Gorillas)?  RACC members may use the term Ranga’because by doing so, they are reclaiming it. But non-members, don’t go there.

**The spelling ‘Ranga’ has been preferred over the commonly employed ‘Wranger.’


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The Hon Julia Gillard MP, PO Box 6022, House of Representatives, Parliament House, Canberra Vic 2600

To the Honourable Julia Gillard P.C., Prime Minister of Australia,

I was delighted to hear of your appointment and offer my sincere congratulations. It is heartening to see that a woman has finally been permitted to assume the highest office in the country.

Yet my initial excitement was dampened by your announcement about marriage policy. My love and I have been living together for nearly five years now and every so often, we are still hurt by the malicious whisperings of those who condemn our union as unnatural.  By refusing to recognise us, the Government seems to be lending credence to those intolerable wretches.

I pray you, will you not reconsider your position?   

I remain (for now) your humble and obedient servant,

Miss Wagner

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My dear friend Beatrice,

It has been many months since I have put pen to paper. My neglect springs from distraction, not indolence. The brain tends to become crowded with the trivial matters of everyday life, so that one forgets to honour those most dear to them. But Beatrice, rest be assured that you and your dear family are never far from my heart. I am told that your studies are going marvellously, and that Edward’s band are making quite a name for themselves. I hope the acclaim will crush the doubts of those Argus-eyed social critics who disapprove of your family’s ascetic lifestyle, which is but a natural consequence of the impecunious yet noble professions adopted by yourself and Edward. And young Cynthia? Such a fair maiden. No doubt she grows more beautiful by the day, so it will not be long before you have to hide her away entirely to protect her from the clamouring of eager suitors.

I am just returned from a skiing expedition to Lake Mountain. To get there, we passed the areas worst affected by the Black Saturday bushfires. This included Marysville, a former holiday town, where you can see caravans on blocks of vacant land and petrol signs with no petrol station in sight – it had been burnt entirely to the ground. They are now are doing their best to rebuild, some of the population have moved back, and a few buildings have been rebuilt. I caught my breath at the rows of skeletal trees silhouetted on the mountain ridge, recognising the image which has been pictured in countless newspaper articles about the fires.

Lake Mountain that day had a still and ethereal beauty; steel-blue sky draped in wrathes of mist, fields of snow, black twisted trees with clumps of white clinging precariously to their limbs. There were newly emerging shoots of green; even ferns poking out from underneath snow in some places. It must be difficult for those who lost families and homes in the bushfires to be constantly confronted with these physical reminders, not only of their loss, but also of the seemingly oblivious momentum of new life.

I have always considered skiing to be somewhat of an elite sport; a little like scuba diving. The expense and complexity of the equipment seems a little at odds with the idea of being at one with nature.  But I found it exhilarating. Cross country skiing (perhaps as opposed to ‘downhill’ skiing) feels like a bush walk; so in that sense, our expedition was more about being out amongst that unique environment rather than chasing thrills.

As you know Beatrice, I am very uncoordinated, and unskilled at using tools. I believe skis count as tools. I fell over many, many times, so that I am now incredibly sore, with little hope of a swift recovery. My dear friend Miss Beeton, who was the one who kindly invited me on the trip, was actually very accomplished. She did not fall over once, in fact, I began to think of her as an ice princess. She and her friends were also very patient with me. When we started the trip, we had to go uphill, and I could not move at all. I was actually very worried as I thought I would hold the whole party up. But Miss Beeton gave me a swift lesson, and pretty soon I got the hang of it.

Indeed, my companions were so kind, they even furnished me with food and drink of the highest quality. Home made Anzac biscuits, apple muffins, vegetable soup, and hot tea. I was very impressed with their culinary skills. As Miss Beeton pointed out to me, it reminds one of how essential food is, and how important it is to be prepared before venturing out into the wilderness.

The last half hour of our trip was difficult for me. Up until then, I had been moving along nicely. All of a sudden, my energy levels flagged, but most of the last bit was downhill, and we also had to rush in order to get the skis back on time. At this stage, I found it impossible to avoid careering wildly down the hill, completely out of control, and plunged headfirst into the snow several times to avoid hitting little children, who by the way, were mostly far more competent than me (I think it is much easier to learn these things as a youngster). It was tough, and I felt like giving up, like sleeping in the snow. But Miss Beeton told me that if I were to fall asleep, I might die there. So I kept going, and did in the end make it.

Although weary, we had many lively conversations in the car on the way home. The following topics were covered: freemasonry, Terry Pratchett, ‘Snuggies’ (electric blankets that keep  you warm during winter), consumerism, whether Formula One creates incentives for environmentally efficient technologies, whether penalties should be tougher for those who kill strangers as opposed to people they know, the proliferation of new technologies and whether they’re actually making life easier, the fact that Hungry Jacks is better than Macdonalds, whether people should wear bike helmets, whether discriminatory advertising against women should be restricted, and whether Australia is a nanny state. Beatrice, you would have offered unique insights into these matters and I wish you were there to be part of our discussion. However, we can add them to our itinerary for discussion in the next few weeks when I visit you in Perth. I am so looking forward to that.

I have one last story for you, Beatrice. On the way to the ski fields, we stopped in Healesville at Beechworth Bakery (a stalwart Victorian chain). There, we were lucky enough to see our Premier, the Honourable John Brumby, who ordered a vanilla slice. My companions suggested that the Premier’s arrival was our cue to leave, so we did. Many young folk here are not overly taken with Mr Brumby and his style of leadership. In fact, when upon arriving home from our expedition, I told my lady love I had run into Mr Brumby, she told me I should have given him a ‘wedgie’. She even suggested he would be wearing spiderman underpants. While I was most shocked at these improper comments, and blush to repeat them to you, they certainly illustrate the depth of dissatisfaction with our gentleman premier.

Thanks for reading this overly long epistle and I hope it has not bored you. I know though, that you, out of anyone, are most likely to dedicate time to digesting such a tome, for I am, after all, your old and dear, albeit neglectful friend.  

Lots of love from that very same friend,

Dolores Wagner

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