All the news fit to ignore

Via The Debatable Land, this is how I like 'celeb gossip news' dealt with!

The 42 year old French Justice Minister Rachida Dati is up the duff. In typically French fashion (which always amuses me for a country with a Catholic majority), Dati has brushed aside journalist's demands for THE TRUTH, and says that she has no intention of revealing the father's identity and offers this comment that I like very much:

I have a very complicated private life, and that's where I draw the line with the press. I won't have anything to say on that subject.

Good in her, I say. Quite frankly, I'm mighty sick of hearing the press bleating on about other people's private lives as if it is meant to mean something to people. The bulk of gossip that seems to constitute 'news' these days has (or should have) little relevance to whether or not I vote for someone, go to see their movie, buy their record and so on. It's just all so boring...

Comments

EG CameraGirl said…

I wish more people held your view, Kris. But alas! Most people LOVE to hear and spread gossip. Just read newspaper headlines and the covers of magazines and you'll know what sells. ;-)

4 September 2008 at 21:27

Anonymous said…

Hear hear!

4 September 2008 at 23:10

Kris McCracken said…

I am glad that I am not alone...

9 September 2008 at 08:27

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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