While you were asleep: WA’s funding Gonski, our press freedoms, ashes flushed at ballpark

Approx Reading Time-11Well. It was what it was. WA checked its bank account and swore, the duality of press freedom helped itself to our fridge, and a morbid man added to the filth in a public restroom.




WA gov rebukes education reform, claims that $93 million will be Gonski.

Terrible pun, but it’s early and everybody’s tired, be gentle. Now, from a political standpoint, Western Australia is quickly evolving into their final form: a ragtag collective of road-rashed, leather-clad sociopaths controlled by a feudal system of extreme violence, ineptitude and crimes against Daft Punk. A place where there is but one law: if you break a deal, you must spin the wheel.

The WA Senate, AD 2017

The WA Senate, AD 2017

Now, the last thing WA needs is another headline (or another hero), but out of the ruins, out from the wreckage, they won’t make the same mistakes this time. They have taken particular umbrage with the swerving V8 of cautious Malcolm, as the bean counters have totalled that the state will actually come up short in education funding to the tune of many many many millions.

Apropos the findings of the ABC: the PM phoned Premier Mark McGowan, assuring him that WA would be better off. But State Education Minister Sue Ellery was sceptical and concerned about the lack of detail, so she spent a day trying to obtain more concrete figures. “We’ve had to tease out figures by figures today to try to get to the bottom of this,” Ms Ellery said.

Tim McDonald, the executive director of Catholic Education WA, believes that the fiduciary rug that’s been removed from under their feet is a cardinal sin, stating that “We have received no clear indication that the Government considered the unique complexities of our state-wide system, and there is still anxiety for our school communities and principals given the lack of funding certainty moving beyond 2017, when the current agreement expires.”

As for the solution to WA’s funding, and indeed credibility deficit, we can’t know.

Here is an alternate question. If they are the children, the last generation, they are the ones left behind. But, I wonder when they are ever gonna change?

Just as a side note, and to close on Mad Max, what happened to the time-honoured tradition of the movie soundtrack song released alongside the film, where the music vid featured unrelated grabs from the production, making no sense whatsoever. Bring that back. Take a quick butcher’s at Eric Carmen’s hot mess Hungry Eyes from seminal chic-flick, Dirty Dancing.

I know what you’re thinking about that woman.

She wasn’t really playing that saxophone.


Australia’s Freedom of Press statistics fall when Fairfax workers are forcibly given freedom.

2017 seems to be the year of unfortunate timing. Trump’s Muslim Ban was enacted on the day to remember the Holocaust, Turnbull pulled the trigger on loosening 18C on the UN-sanctioned day to bridge our differences, and yesterday, on World Freedom of Press Day, Fairfax announced that they’d be significantly reducing the size of metropolitan newsrooms.

Unfortunate, however, on a broader scope, the world joined to regale and commiserate the important work of balanced journalism from those who were felled in the name of dropping truthbombs. On the worldwide scale, we rated as “good, but not great”, with Scandinavia and Germany leading the way. Which proves that they are honest, sexy, chilled out people. Marry me please, whoever you may be.

Although journalism in this country is extremely important, the risks we run are comparatively few. Yes, we’ve had scrapes with danger with the cases of Peter Greste in Egypt and Tara Brown in Beirut, but they seem to be the exception to the rule worldwide.

Also, outgoing President of the Human Rights Commission, Gillian Triggs, was honoured with the Voltaire award, this country’s highest accolade for the safe-vouching of freedom of speech. Fittingly, in the well-worn words of the man after whom the award was named: “Those who can convince you of absurdities, can make you commit attrocities”.

Warm congratulations, Gillian. Chin chin.


Friend flushes dead friend’s ashes at ballgame, sympathies revoked when upon learning of intent.

Is there an Americana baseball euphemism for flushing your departed friend’s ashes down a ballpark lavatory? If not, there absolutely should be. For a sport that honours itself on remembering dead racists from 170 years ago (looking at you, Cap Anson), and has a percentage to regulate the percentage of how hard you hit the ball according to road splits against left-handed relief pitching in opposing, inter-league-hitter friendly parks versus the larger dimensions in your ballpark (and heavier pitching league), why on earth shouldn’t there be?

Enter baseball fan Tom McDonald – and his baseball fan friend, Roy Riegel, who has the obvious handicap of being dead. For some reason, McDonald says the best way to honour his friend’s memory is to flush his ashes down the toilet of various ballparks. Perhaps the apparition would take the form of a gruff, overweight Moaning Myrtle in pinstripe, one that’d haunt the toilets of stadia around the league with his eerie bellowing of the same four-syllable chant the Americans use for everything. De-rek Je-ter. Im-peach Don-ald. 

Batter up?


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