I only have one question for the Norwegians.
How many people do you have to murder before you get a life sentence in Norway?
Well, it seems as if the vilest of killers can only get 21 years in Norway. That is the law, apparently. Why? Who knows? But after that period the sentence can be extended by five years at a time.
What is wrong with a real life sentence…meaning ” for the rest of his life”?
Apparently, 77 dead is not enough for the Norwegian Laws
It was a pretty pathetic scene. The city of Melbourne was suffering from the coldest minimum temperature since the Neolithic Age.
A group of lost souls was pacing up and down outside Aldi at 8 am on Saturday, waiting for the store to open at 8.30.
We were among this bunch, watching the others surreptitiously, planning our onslaught so that we could reach the limited specials in time before they ran out
When I say “we” I’m exaggerating slightly. My husband thought the whole venture was ridiculous, but he accompanied me anyhow. So what I really mean is the “Royal We”, that is, yours truly, who was being sucked it by one of Aldi’s special offers.
Sleeveless puffer vests for ladies for only $12.99!
Who could resist that? Not I. So I dragged my husband along at the crack of dawn on Saturday to get my hands on one or more of these amazing vests.
I’m on Aldi’s mailing list, you see, and every week I receive an email with their upcoming special buys.
I used to think that I was above that sort of thing, but apparently, I’m not. I love getting the catalogue to see if I “need” anything in it.
Anyhow, there I was last Saturday, hovering behind a man in a wheelchair, working out a strategy for a quick and efficient entry.
Being the genius that I am I concluded that there was very little chance that the man in the wheelchair would be heading for the ladies puffer vests, so he was no threat to me.
The door opened and we all rushed in like a bunch of desperadoes. I headed for the centre aisle, picked up three vests in every size, then I took three more in another colour. My husband was holding my handbag so that I could try on one of each.
So far so good.
“So how does it look?” I asked the keeper of the handbag. There’s no mirror in Aldi, unfortunately.
“It’s looks okay,” he replied. “Do you really need these vests?” he asked.
Poor man, I muttered to myself as I mucked about with the vests. Sometimes I feel so sorry for him. He really hasn’t a clue about bargains. I mean these were only $12.99!
So I selected two of them. Pleased as punch, I was.
We went home with my treasure. I paraded in front of the mirror. “Don’t you think they’re a bit loose?” I asked my spouse. “Well, yes”, was the reply. I told you they were okay and they are okay. For the price”, he added.
The next day, Sunday, we returned to Aldi with the two vests and got a refund.
Wonder what’s on special next week? Pretty pathetic, eh…
Hard to believe but I was there when the new One Direction pop up store opened this morning. This is the second time that I have come upon the One Direction circus.
Please don’t think that I was in the long queue of fans like several hundred silly girls were. I just happened to walk past in Chapel St at 9 a.m and heard some squawking and squealing followed by a countdown.
“What the…is that noise?” I asked and then I saw them. Not One Direction, cause they aren’t even here. They apparently aren’t due in Australia until next year. No, this was a gaggle of pubescent girls and a couple of boys as well. There were even some parents there, for crying out loud. They were all lining up outside this small shop which is cashing in on the hysteria about the boy group.
We stood across the road and laughed, but to be honest, the laughter soon turned to sadness as we watched those girls make fools of themselves over T-shirts and other paraphernalia about One Direction.
That Simon Cowell is a very smart man, isn’t he? To think that he can organise a non-event on a frosty morning for a boy group that isn’t even present. To think that hundreds of girls would get up early in the morning to line up outside a pop up store and chant and squeal for hours. (Some of them for seventeen hours, so I’m told) to buy some trinkets with pictures of their favourite member of the One Direction farce, is absolutely mind-numbing.
Once the countdown for the opening of the store was over the girls rushed in and we continued our walk.
The whole thing was senseless. I actually had to explain to my husband that One Direction aren’t even here yet.
“So what was all that fuss about?” he asked. “Why were they screaming?”
He got a shrug from me in response. “Let’s get out of here,” I said and we walked on anxious to distance ourselves from the hysteria.
There are some horrible scenes around Melbourne. Pre-pubescent girls and even some weird six year old boys are experiencing fits of hysteria outside the Crown Casino. Some of them are crying and shrieking, others are fainting while others, who are still upright, are gesticulating and wriggling about under a spell of some sort. Perhaps St Vitus dance?
Until today I had not even heard of the boy group who are the objects of their affection and the cause of all these histrionics. Apparently, they are called “One Direction” which evidently refers to the one direction, straight to the bank, that promoter, Simon “Midas” Cowell is heading once again. He certainly has the Golden Touch.
I had a serious look at those youngsters in his boy group. Stupid hairstyles full of gel, naive faces, so sissy looking and I wondered what is the matter with those silly young girls that would cause them to tremble at the mere mention of the name “One Direction.”
I’m fully aware that hysteria over pop stars has always gone on, but there seems to be a pronounced trend towards effeminate boys being the flavour of the moment. Justin Bieber comes to mind. Not very macho, in my opinion. Pity about that.
Did I ever behave like that at that age? In all honesty, I could never, ever swoon over a “celebrity” the way that those girls are doing. It’s simply not my style and I can’t relate to such pathological hysteria.
How degrading it all is to see yourself on TV behaving like a randy goat. Simon Cowell must be killing himself laughing when he watches the circus that he has created. Surely, those girls must suspect that they are being taken for a ride in the wrong direction.
p.s
Good Grief! I just found out that there are two “One Direction” boy groups. One is from the UK and that’s the one that is driving Aussie females crazy at the moment. And there is another in the US who aren’t very happy with Simon Cowell and are threatening to sue him…allegedly. Two directions. Take your pick. lol
It takes a lot to amaze me nowadays, but last Saturday I was definitely amazed, stunned even. We were rolling along on our ancient tram in Melbourne when I saw an amazing sight. Two teenagers boarded our tram. They sat down across from us and they began to chat with one another, face to face like.
Not for a few minutes before taking out their phones, but for the entire journey. They talked, they laughed, they looked at one another and nodded or shook their heads. They used body language to communicate.
It was terribly unnerving. To see two young people who weren’t doing their finger exercises on a tiny screen or shouting into their phones made me squirm awkwardly and wonder.
Who were these two young people? Why were they having a conversation face to face, not on Facebook with a million twittering imaginary friends, but with one another as if the whole thing were natural?
Were they from another planet perhaps? Or had their phone accounts run out. Had they forgotten to charge them? Perhaps some catastrophic event had caused them to misplace their phones.
Or was it perhaps my own wishful thinking, a delusion, that had invented something that no longer exists. Genuine conversation minus electronics.
Seems like I’ve started the year off badly. Fallen off the wagon, you might say. I fear that 2012 is no better than 2011 and all the years that went before it. Guess I’m doomed to keep on searching for the holy grail, which in my case, turns out to be the perfect plastic container.
I’ve been through a passion for Tupperware. What devoted domestic diva hasn’t? Had a few of them with their lifetime guarantees but the parties were demeaning and, besides, Tupperware is oh so expensive!
So I turned to cheaper plastic containers that soon became discoloured and weren’t quite spillproof. When they became misshapen with lids that didn’t fit I relegated them to a special place in my kitchen devoted to spare and emergency containers. You know the sort of collection I mean. Too good to throw out cause you may need them one day in an emergency.
I don’t dare ask myself what sort of emergency would necessitate a crappy plastic container, but you never know. I certainly don’t. But should the occasion arise, I’m well stocked.
My latest indulgence is “Lock & Lock.” Apparently, you can never have too many of them. I have thousands of these containers, a kitchen full. All shapes and sizes, rectangular, round, and even bottle shaped.
Long ago my naive husband suggested that perhaps I have enough plastic containers. When will I use them all? Have we got room for all these things?
He has a point, of course, but he doesn’t understand that the search for the perfect container is a bit like religion. You have to believe that there is something out there that will give real meaning to your life, structure and order. Isn’t that what religion’s about?
Well, in my case, I’m under the impression that if I can have the perfect collection of plastic containers then all will be well with the world, my world, that is. So neat and tidy, so stackable, so useful. A place for everything etc. etc. And who wouldn’t want to live without chaos?
Sadly, just when you think you have enough containers for every occasion, you pass a shop that has more Lock & Lock containers. These ones offer the possibility of storing tons and tons of leftovers. And they put the others to shame. They are made of even better plastic without that dangerous chemical in them. You know the one I mean. BPA, the latest evil ingredient in plastic. They say it could cause irreparable damage to your cells. Can’t be too careful these days, can you?
Can you?
Well, this is what happened a couple of days ago and that’s how I fell off the wagon in 2012. But this time I’m sure that I have every plastic container that I will ever need. I’ve seen the light and intend to stick to my new resolve religiously.
For months now the unions have been playing games with Qantas. The national airline was subjected to ‘on again off again flights’. Workers would turn up to work and announce that they were going on strike for an hour or so. This sort of mucking around and disruption by the employees caused many delays and inconveniences for Qantas. And it certainly was causing problems for passengers.
An airline must be able to provide a consistent timetable for connecting flights. But the employees of Qantas did not care about that. They kept on pushing the company to the limit.
Could this go on indefinitely? No company can survive with such blackmailing tactics. Whatever their demands, the employees should have have been prepared to either go on strike totally until Fair Work Australia got involved or continue to work on the days they drew a salary.
Sick of this screwing around by the unions, Qantas called their bluff. Yes, many passengers were inconvenienced yesterday and will be today as well, but the action by CEO Alan Joyce got results. Let’s hope that now they can sort the problem out in a mature fashion.
Times change and with it come changes. Employees in the airline industry has to accept change or more jobs will be lost. It’s called adapting to the present.
As for criticism that Qantas should have given notice that it will ground its fleet, there was a legitimate reason for not doing so. Just as in businesses which have to make certain that a disgruntled or dismissed employee does not interfere with computers etc. Qantas had to ensure that in the heat of the moment some mischief could not be done to its planes. It only takes one hothead to do that sort of damage. That is why Joyce is talking about safety in euphemistic terms.
About 100 policemen have just been brought into the city of Melbourne for a rehearsal. The Queen is coming to town tomorrow and so the protesters have decided to demonstrate against the “evil woman”, big business, small business, medium-sized business, the banking system, the weather, the price of petrol, Qantas, Israel (of course) and anything else they can think of. You name it, they’re against it.
Of course these people are not against the dole which supports them while they demonstrate. They are not against students’ allowances which support them while they lie around in the street chanting. They are not against making promises to the police that they will move on when they are asked to and then refusing to move.
So why are these stupid, stupid, spoiled brats throwing a tantrum on public property and causing problems for ordinary Melbournians downtown?
Well, they envy the uprising in the Arab countries. They envy the Wall St protesters who decided to take a stand against the government’s bail-out of big companies.
These Occupy Melbourne, Sydney, Perth etc groups of brats have very little to gripe about and this is the problem. Things are too good for them here in Australia.
If they don’t want to work, then either mummy and daddy will support them or they will get the dole. If they want to study then this will be free and they will also get paid to do so. Out of the public purse!
This sort of bludging is a shameful abuse of democracy. They throw around the term, “democracy” as if they know what it means. For them it means they want rights. The right to TAKE rather than the right to contribute. You can’t talk to these people about responsibility.
It costs a fortune to police these silly circuses, money that could be spent on the genuinely needy members of our society. But try telling that to these excrescences who will turn up tomorrow to mar the visit of the Queen.
Let’s face it, she won’t be perturbed by their carrying-on. She’s seen all sorts of spectacles in her life and had to keep a straight face when confronted by them. This won’t faze her. The police will cope too. They behaved admirably last week after the squatters broke their promise to move on when asked.
So go ahead you silly buggers, make nuisances of yourselves. You have absolutely no idea how lucky you all are to be living in Australia where the police won’t turn hoses on you, even when you deserve it.
So in five years time Aussie women will be able to take part in frontline combat. Now this is certainly a boost for equal rights in the military. Here comes Private Benjamin, I guess.
No, I’m not poopooing the idea of women fighting hand to hand in combat. On the contrary, I think that on some occasions it will be fantastic since there is nothing more frightening than women with PMT. The Taliban will be shaking in their boots (or sandals) at the prospect of a temperamental shrew hating everybody in the world and ready to kill. If the women are given lots of salty French Fries to eat and they then become bloated with fluid retention, the enemy had better watch out.
Unfortunately for the military, the male soldiers in the Aussie defence forces will cop it as well and they may even feel a little sympathy for the Taliban who are destined to be savaged by these “hormonal” women.
Still, all’s fair in love and war.
Which brings me to another equal rights story. In 2015 women in Saudi Arabia will be given the right to vote. Unfortunately for them, however, they will still have to hitch a lift to the polling booth as they are not allowed to drive a car. Anyone else see the humour in that? I think it’s called irony.
Thought I would buy an eyebrow pencil while shopping at the Chadstone Fashion Mall. Was told by the staff in Gloss, a cosmetics and accessory store, that there was no difference between eyebrow and eyeliner pencils. Was persuaded to buy an eyeliner. Left the store unconvinced that the advice had been correct. Decided I had better return the wrong product and was told that there would be no refund. It had been half and hour since I had been sold the wrong product.
I could get a credit or buy something else of a similar value since Gloss’s policy is “no cash refunds”. I was forced to choose something else since the young girls were adamant that Gloss does not give refunds if you have doubts about the product. Mind you, the pencil had been unopened and had not even left the shopping centre.
There was no warning in the Gloss store about not giving a refund and so this came as a surprise to me. This sort of meanness would not occur in other stores such as Priceline, for example. So in future I will shop at a store that cares about its customer service.
LiliGans.com 