This will hurt me...

Here is Henry on his first birthday this time last year. As you can see by his t-shirt, we'd been out campaigning hard in the lead up to the Federal election. In fact, I put down Rudd's eventual victory to Henry's endorsement. You see, Henry was a committed social democrat at that point. He's since shifted somewhat. Before I put him to bed last night, Henry, Ezra and I fell into our habit of discussing the work of Søren Kierkegaard. Henry is something of a fan, Ezra less so and I have long exhibited a tendency to distance myself from the Existentialists, as a rule, because they are rubbish at telling humorous stories and are thus real downers when it come to dinner parties. "But father," Henry pleaded, "once you label me you negate me". "Nonsense," I say. He then started crapping on about something to do with fish, or sheep, and believing and unbelieving, and something about a cactus (or maybe it was synthesis?) Whatever. That's the th...

Here is Australia's next top supermodel in action, playing on a wooden fort with a pink pram! The pram is an effective rouse to smuggle as many balls as possible to the throw at anyone silly enough to approach the fort. Plus, the chicks kind of dig the kind of sensitive, new age man who is happy to be seen marching back and forth with a pink pram. Unsatisfied with my previous post, FF has asked what it is precisely that makes me uncomfortable about young people embracing the love of Jesus with the sort of verve and vigour normally associated with a cat on heat. Well, I'm not sure if there is a precise reason. Perhaps it just all seems unnatural to me. Someone at death's door I can imagine it, you're hedging your bets, I can understand the logic to that. Some profound trauma? Yeah, the world loses it's bearings, religion can give you a foundation that'll get you through, I see that. Some hot young thang with legs up to here and an arse just thinking about that...