What a week it was. We were promised a different future, as the Democrats took down the Republicans, Malcolm saved his administration and the latest planet in the Star Wars galaxy was discovered.


Democrats retake Alabama, the internet lets it pass without comment. Chortle.

As my mother often points out to me (sans irony), there are no small victories, just small people. This week, it seemed that the rolling turgid wave of neo-nonsense that has flooded the American experience broke and rolled back, as the good guys seemingly enacted revenge on the Trump administration by taking back control of Alabama.

While the noted home of the Gumps has long been painted in Republican red, the state has collectively decided to jimmy the lid off the paint can and slap a risky burst of Dem Blue, turfing out long-time barnacle Roy Moore.



Now, the internet took it about as well as you’d imagine, as they collectively fired bullets into the roof whilst jigging a very celebratory jig. They ran that Republican out of town. Yeehaw. However, turn the globe to Washington, and the White House still proudly stands. Now, I’m not saying that we light the pitchforks and redecorate in the traditional Alabaman method, but I’m not not saying we shouldn’t. Right?


John Alexander saves Trumble administration, wins Bennelong dance-off.

Locally, we’ve been sipping the same haterade, as the anonymous brutal hand-to-hand political combat for the important/unimportant square of turf that is Bennelong has concluded, with the laurels of victory settling on the bonce of noted tennis man (and Malcolm Turnbull plant) John Alexander.


What makes the counting of votes important, is that this victory allows Mal to keep his wafer-thin majority of one in the upper house, which in theory would allow the man to government good. But, we’ve read that book, and we’ve binge-watched that program, and yeah, nah.


The Last Jedi sears itself on our eyeballs, reactionary forces mobilise.

Being able to visit the Star Wars universe on a yearly basis is a lot like bedding your high school sweetheart as an adult. Brilliant in theory, but less so in application. They’re nothing like you remember them to be, and while they might fill the time between orgasms with stories about people you used to know, you both know that it’s a mistake.

The latest instalment now lays at our feet, the ironically titled The Last Jedi, which has been either touted as the grand new wave of gleeful space operas, or the mole on the testicle of a nerf herder.



Interestingly, two great empires clashed, with the light and the dark side of the force battling on the red carpet, with Crown Prince BB-8 capitulating to the ginger prince, Harry. Or whatever one the ginger one is.


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