Thistle Do! Autumn... apparently
Where's Dolly? Giving up on Lent. Confessions of a Flasher. The #*&#($ Novel. Happy Snaps!
Where’s Doll?
This weekend our intrepid singer is warbling her lungs out in Victoria.
To save three days of driving, she bummed a lift off Bazza.
Bazza is one of Bonza airlines’ aircraft.
I’m assuming his flying mates are similarly named, e.g.: Dazza, Shazza, Kazza, Wozza, etc. (I checked… and yes. Yes they are)
Honestly? What’s their slogan?
Bogan Airlines! Strewth, she’s the ducks guts mate!
My daughter and her friends were heading to Melbourne too for a girls’ weekend (hey, it’s cheaper than a taxi across town and back so why not?)
At 8 a.m. I suggested a proper bogan ritual would be to partake of a round of pre-flight Margaritas for breakfast.
One of the ladies said that this was a terrible idea.
Apparently Espresso Vodka Martinis are the perfect wake up drink for such an occasion.
I was suitably embarrassed and am considering handing in my Bogan Membership Card.
Speaking of which…
Spent over Lent
Folks, if you don’t know what Lent is, then you should get on your knees and thank your lucky stars (or god of choice) because there’s a very good possibility you’ve never been physically, sexually or emotionally, abused by a member of the Catholic clergy.
Also, there’s also a high probability you don’t know a single thing about Lent.
So, here’s a quick explainer:
Lent: in the Catholic Church (and some Protestant Churches who are barely a hairs’ breadth from being a Catholic Church), Lent is the six-week period leading up to Easter, starting on Ash Wednesday and either ends on Maundy Thursday or Holy Saturday.
Got it?
Of course you don’t. You’ve probably some questions.
Lent? Ash Wednesday?? Maundy Thursday???
Well, one thing we quickly learned as little Catholics is, the Catholic Church does not like anyone asking questions. Apparently this shows a lack of faith, or the sort of independent thinking that must be thrashed out of the inquisitive young mind, or dealt with slightly more severely…
And that punishment is usually carried out very publicly, just in case anyone else is toying with questioning the status quo.
So to save you copping a flogging I’ll give you the a quick explainer from the Dynamic Catholic website:
“Ash Wednesday: is the first day of Lent. Lent is the forty days (excluding Sundays) leading up to Easter. The number forty is significant as it refers to Jesus’ forty days in the desert prior to beginning his ministry of teaching.”
On Ash Wednesday, Catholics and some other Christian denominations receive ashes in the shape of a cross on their forehead or sprinkled on top of their head.
“These ashes are created from the palms used during the previous year’s Palm Sunday Mass. They symbolize penance, which is appropriate as Lent is a season of penance, and remind us of our own mortality. During the Mass, as the priest or lay minister applies the ashes, he says “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”
Anyone who attends a Mass can receive ashes, not just practicing Catholics.”
A lot of Catholics don’t wash it off for the next forty days.
Most prefer to give something up for Lent, to remind them that Christianity is about sacrifice. Apart from giving up eating meat on Fridays (yes, that’s a ‘thing’ and proudly supported by sellers of fish for millennia) some folk will forgo booze, sex, TV, lollies or… whatever for the 40 days of Lent.
Me? As a lifelong non-practicing Catholic I/we/my family never really got into Lent, or pretty much any of the other Hoo-ha demanded of the faithful by THE CHURCH.
But this year, after a lot of thought (about 10 seconds) I decided to give Lent a go and give something up, permanently:
My Catholic Church membership.
The Joy of Heresy
Apparently, not attending church is not enough to renounce your ties with the Catholic Church. It’s harder than trying to quit the Mafia (another Catholic based institution).
If you were baptised into the ‘the mob’ at birth you are a lifelong member until you either:
Die.
Tear up a photo of the pope.
Resign by letter.
So I did just that. Um, the last one that is, the first two were far too much work.
I mailed it last week to the local Bishop in Rockhampton and haven’t heard back yet.
Speaking of silence, I was rendered speechless that a stamp now costs $1.20!
So, I’m hoping there isn’t a lot of to-ing and fro-ing by mail in order to quit being a tyke.
Anyway, I’ll keep you posted… by email.
Confessions of a Flasher
I’ve been a flasher ever since I got my licence.
I’m still doing it to this day.
Last weekend I flashed a cop car, and they waved back at me (there were cows, and a surprising amount of their poo, ahead on the road).
It’s a service I like to provide free of charge to fellow motorists and I’m going to keep right on flashing, while it’s still not a jail-able offence.
In NSW they give motorists fair warning that there’s a speed camera, or seatbelt/phone/clean undies checking camera ahead.
Rather sporting don’t you think?
Here in QLD the blue uniformed tax collectors are a bit, well, sneakier.
So, I’m just levelling the playing field. Sure, the Govt. gets a little bit less money, but the roads are slightly safer because of me and my fellow flashers.
Sometimes I do it even when there’s no cops around, just to slow down potential speeders, or make other drivers check their speed, or wake up a bit.
And, the ones not staring at their phones usually give me a cheery wave, or at the very least the classic, one raised index finger off the steering wheel.
Happy, Safe, Fine-free Motoring!
The $%*# Novel!
Ok, I’ve written, re-written, re-re-written and agonised over what has become known as ‘The $%*# Novel’ for an embarrassing number of years.
That’s right, years.
I’ve got other novels piling up inside my head waiting to be written, but I need to pull this literary mental plug out first.
A girlfriend once suggested I take it out to a quiet field, let it romp around for a bit, then put a bullet through it’s skull.
I tried. I really did. But I just couldn’t squeeze the trigger.
Then it was back to the old excuses: Too many interruptions. Too hot. Too many calls. Not enough time. I have to practice these songs. The invoices need to be sent. I’m far too drunk now to write. I need to register my new company ‘Procrastination-R-Us. Etc.
My biggest hurdle is getting the plot lines sorted out… and cemented in place. Oh, and limiting the number of characters. I have far too many, and I like them all, but there’s not enough room for all of them.
So, last week, after putting an entire day aside to plot, and only getting 2 hours because a stampede of interruptions, calls, emails, ‘things’ and the ‘excruciating minutiae’ of every day life (like housework, cleaning my desk, re-organising my socks, washing, buying food, school runs etc.) chewed up the bulk of my time, so I decided enough was enough.
Either shoot it OR do it.
As I was loading the literary gun, it occurred to me that I can find time to write this newsletter, blow an hour a night watching tele, or mindlessly surf the net, so why not incorporate the novel into this newsletter as a way of making me accountable and getting it done?
Also, the major problem I have is: I want it to be perfect.
Me? A scribbler of pulp, farce and, to be perfectly honest, entertaining bullshit with a sprinkling of gems, wants to write The Great Australian Novel.
Then I recalled this meme:
And like my novel, I don’t care if it’s factually correct, not the original author or even true, I’m just going to ‘throw it out there’, one chapter at a time, and see how it goes.
Next week! I’ll throw it out there next week… if I get time
Happy Snaps
This week, I’d like you to see the world through the Eyeglasses of Greg:
Normal photo:
And how I see it through my rose coloured glasses:
Sadly I couldn’t fit either of these into my car’s boot:
Why did the cow cross the road?
A: to crap on it… like all the others did
One from Doll’s Victoria travels, Old and New:
Soccer season has kicked off… all the players were resting in the shade trying to escape the heat and humidity of Autumn in Queensland.
Tailgate 1:
I suspect the answer is: in a morgue freezer?
Tailgate 2:
Yeah, all Bad-asses drive round in Ford dual cab utes… sure they do.
Get one of these and we’ll chat:
Ok! Ta for dropping by. Let’s do it all again next week.
Cheers,
Greg
Brilliant!!!