A Crapology, the 15 minutes of sanity sleep and why I need a break from Radio National

Hello all. Yes, that is your outrage-o-meter beeping loudly. I am a walking talking outrage generator right now. I am the Three Mile Island of Outrage and you do not want your puppies, children or teeth anywhere near me right now.

'And what are you so outraged about, young woman?' I hear you say (now that the beeping has thankfully ceased). And I answers you, EVERYTHING AaaaAAAaaaAArgh! Because things are not fair and people who have nearly everything including a whopping great massive Sense of Entitlement think that it's not fair if someone else gets something, even if the someone else has less than nothing compared to Old Mr Entitlement over there. 'It's not fair' whines Mr Entitlement, sucking up three quarters of the world's resources, 'that person is getting something I haven't got, give me one'.

I say to you, Mr Entitlement, you bloated, selfish, ignorant pig, with your clean water, education, decent food at a reasonable price, surplus wages, tax cuts, middle-class welfare and your goddam Giant Cup of Privilege NOW WITH EXTRA PRIVILEGE!!!!! shut up shut up shut up shut up until infinity. When you share your goddam entitlements and benefits and ignorant unthinking piggish greediguts surplus with other people, then maybe you can talk about what other people might have that you don't have, eh?

Two points. One, I was woken up a little early this morning by a spider falling on my head and I realised (quite separately from my spider anxiety) that the last few minutes of expected sleep is the disputed border land between a calm, sane, pleasant existence and something resembling insane rage. Two, despite the general intelligence and interest of Radio National's morning programming, I need a break from hearing about things that Drive Me Up the Wall in the mornings, so it's back to Classic FM for me for a while.

Also, 'I'm sorry if your feelings were hurt' is a crapology, not an apology.







Otherwise, very well, thanks for asking.

If you don't have anything nice to say

don't say anything at all.

Make-your-own-assignment

While, in principle, I approve of the idea of inventing your own assignment topics, I am presently at a loss. I need to find something I care enough about relating to contract law that I can write 2,000 words on. It is not a lot of words, I know.

But I fear it is about 1,963 words more than I can commit to on the topic.

We did have a short and interesting history of the Adventures of Equity this afternoon. I found it difficult to reconcile my lecturer's enthusiasm for Courts of Equity (especially the belated NSW model) with my knowledge of Jarndyce v Jarndyce.

Act early, act often.

Jacqui at Terrible Palsy has much information about campaigning for support for people with disabilities in the run up to the next Federal election.

Promissory Estoppel

My interest in the law does seem to have a limit. I am heartily glad that the Australian High Court thinks that unconscionable conduct is to be prevented. I am thrilled that I can leave the question in their Honours capable brains.

Rather glad that I only have a few days of contract law to suffer through, because I don't wish to grow up to be a real lawyer. Very much looking forward to getting back into the realms of public law next month.

'Does anyone here like the Pixies?'

So here we are back at home after our weekend in Melbourne in which we did many delightful things. We stayed with my brother and nephew, visited a still very new baby with beautiful eyes and a look of great amazement and had lunch at the Ringwood RSL with my grandpa who is nearly 90, but you would never guess it.

But mostly what we did was go to see the Pixies play Doolittle live at Festival Hall with quite a lot of other people who look like they were more used to listening to music in their living rooms, actually. Possibly including the band. Despite a dogged lack of showmanship from the band, it was a fantastic show. The music didn't really need any extra faff, and someone had put together a great series of animations and films and bits to screen behind, which made things visually interesting, but also somehow domestic (see lounge rooms above).

Kim Deal made a bit of an effort to introduce sections of the show, and she looked extremely chuffed at the adoration and excitement of the crowd. She beamed, in fact. Which made the crowd like her even more and created a little charm feedback loop. Which always makes for the funnest nights out, I think.

They started with B-sides, which I didn't know being a strictly album girl when it comes to the Pixies. Then they played singalong versions of all the tracks on Doolittle, with highlights (as you would expect) being Debaser, Wave of Mutilation, I Bleed and Here Comes Your Man. Everyone was dancing and singing and waving arms in the air in the approved fashion. In these non-smoking days the appearance of the lighter was very limited.

Festival Hall came into its own when the main set finished. The Pixies (or someone else) had choreographed a very mumsy and pleasing Big Goodbye, where they all stood at different parts of the stage waving like a parent whose kid was off to camp for the first time (see below).

Something I had forgotten, but remembered immediately, was the fabulously resonant roar that stamping on the floor makes at Festival Hall when calling for an encore. It would never work at the Tennis Centre or the MCG. So they came back and played the slow version of Wave of Mutilation and finished in a blast of light and smoke and disappeared without saying a second Big Goodbye. And some people left, but everyone else stomped some more and back they came again, but they had run out of Doolittle songs, so they played Velouria and Planet of Sound and finished with Gigantic, and there was indeed a big, big love and the house lights were on and everyone went home.

Or caught the tram to Thornbury, because even though it was a good long set, it wasn't too late for public transport.

Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah

Junior is off on his first-ever overnight school camp. Things he was concerned about:

• how to carry his pillow
• where the toilets would be
• who he would share a cabin with.

Things he was excited about:

• making damper.

We adult-types went out for dinner and ate spicy food.