Value For Money In A Valueless World

Greets to you oh Masses of the Rambling kind,

You know that you are getting old when you start to complain about the price of things. For a start, we shouldn't be complaining at all, being spoiled brat children of the capitalist consumer first world, but hey, sometimes you just have to speak your mind, even if the complaints are not entirely justified.

Yes, you guessed it kids, it's time for another rant. This time, I am aiming my vocabulary gun at the rising tide of ripoffs that surround us every day. What with the vast tsunami of cheap low-quality imports from China downgrading our quality values, the flow-on effect seems to be far-reaching indeed.

The straw that broke the camel's back and led to this rant was the ticket prices for Tori Amos. Hey, I like her music - I saw her show back in the Little Earthquakes early days, and it rates as one of my favourite concerts ever. However, her new tour has ticket prices at a hefty $120 a pop. Erm, did I miss something, or is she really something more than just a girl with a piano? It can't be that expensive to transport and re-tune that thing (the piano, not the girl).

The only person I would ever pay $120 to see would be Jesus doing his Magic Tricks Revival Tour. And yet, this ticket price seems to be the norm for big acts. Even local acts with pretensions of grandeur seem to command ticket prices of $60 plus. Ridiculous in my opinion.

Obviously the vast majority of people in Australia seem to have way too much disposable income. I can't see any other reason for such stupidly expensive prices being charged. I personally blame the electricians and plumbers of Australia for earning way too much money, and driving up the prices of beer at our local drinking holes. $4.20 for a schooner of beer. Do me a bloody favour!

Maybe it was the olympics that did it. Sydney always used to have a bit of a superiority complex. The olympics only seems to have made it worse. The olympics, contrary to popular belief, does not bring any good whatsoever. They spark a vast spending spree on venues that no-one will ever use again, create a brief euphoric couple of weeks where doped-up super-athletes roam the streets and bang anything that moves, and then Starbucks moves in afterwards with their oh-so-ethically-incorrect beverage joints. The hotels and bars that hiked their prices up during this time of blissful ignorance suddenly realise that they can get away with inflated prices all of the time, and the general populace pays for it from that time onwards. Delightful, and true capitalism at its finest.

A classic example of rank over charging happened to my good lady wife and I recently. Due to a mixup with non-existent leftovers, we decided to give the newly refurbished Berowra Hotel a crack for their bistro meals. Gone are the days of $12 or $15 meals or, dare I even suggest, the halcyon days of $8-10 counter meals. The average meal was $20+, but in the spirit of adventure, and since we eat out only about 10 times a year, we decided what the hey, and bit the bullet.

Celia ordered the atlantic salmon fillet, and I ordered chicken green curry. Despite me ending up with a red curry instead of what I actually ordered, I swallowed my desire to bring this to their attention. It was very fortunate that I swallowed this, as it made up for the paltry size of the meal. It was one of those nouveau cuisine serving sizes - more a scale model of a meal than an actual meal in itself. My red curry was a bit of red slop in the bottom of the massive bowl, with a finely sculpted minaret of rice, and three bok choi leaves balanced precariously on top. Celia's atlantic salmon was wafer thin, and if it weighed in at 100 grams, I would have been very surprised.

Don't get me wrong - these tiny morsels were actually quite delicious, and if they came in anything but a child's entree size, I would be back there like a shot, ready to eat to my heart's content. But to pay that amount of money for something that you eat and then say "Right, I'm ready to eat now" is a bit of a joke.

And so, I continue to remain on the border of the capitalist consumer world, dipping into it only when I have to (and doing so begrudgingly), contributing as little as possible to a system that I despise. It's funny really, that I take such great inspiration from a Jewel song - "Life Uncommon". I have applied it to everything that I hate in the modern world. People who know me passably well may consider me to be a bit of a miser with my money, but this is not the case at all. I do it not because there is some kind of Scottish blood coursing through my veins. I do it because I despise the consumer culture and economic growth above all reason (you know, all that shit that John Howard continuously espouses).

I do it because I hate that the people of the world are killed and kept deliberately in poverty to feed our insatiable appetites. Instead of falling into the mass-media-fed world where happiness can be bought as long as you have the right credit cards and shop at the right places, I follow my Jewel mantra to the letter and apply it to capitalism:

Set down your chains
And lend your voices only to sounds of freedom
No longer lend your strength to that
Which you wish to be free from

Wild And Wooly Weather And Councils Not So Green

Greets to you, Rambling Masses,

I am feeling particularly lucky at the moment. If Dirty Harry told me he couldn't remember whether he'd fired 6 shots or only 5, I'd probably make a run for it and take my chances. There must indeed be Irish blood coursing through my veins.

The reason for my feelings of luck stem from the recent storm on Friday night. Ceals and I were off enjoying the hospitality of Mick that night, as the circle of friends gathered to celebrate the Queen's birthday. After said jocularities, we got home late at night, and went straight off to bed. The next morning, I get up and find that our 12-metre plus pine tree had decided enough was enough, and had collapsed during the storm. The lucky bit is that it missed our house by about 2 metres. The only damage is a huge gaping hole in the ground and a collapsed retaining wall.

Living in the verdant wilderness that is Berowra, I called Hornsby Shire Council to get some assistance in getting rid of the mountain of green waste that my hand saw and flagging strength produced.

I requested a kerbside pickup (as a rate-payer, I am entitled to said service a number of times a year, free of charge). Imagine my surprise when the smiling voice at the other end of the phone said that green waste (branches, leaves and such) is not included in the kerbside pickup service! Unbelievable that we live in "The Bushland Shire", and council refuse to provide basic services such as this. I went on to the Blacktown City Council site, and sure enough, they provide a maximum of 12 kerbside pickups per year free of charge to the rate payer, and green waste is included, as long as it is cut into 1.5 metre lengths and tied up in neat bundles.

I don't like Hornsby Shire Council much at the moment - they seem to be a very inefficient and useless organisation, and are much more expensive rates-wise than Blacktown, yet provide fewer services. In my new spirit of not letting these things ride, and in my new-found desire to make a difference, however small, in my community, I sent an email off to the three councillors that are responsible for my ward area.

This email will hopefully not fall on deaf ears, but hey, I am not holding my breath. Since our green bins get collected fortnightly, I am expecting to spend the next 6 months living on top of a mountain of green (well, brown after the first month).

Here are some photos of the mighty fallen. It doesn't look near as impressive with all of the side branches lopped off...


I am posting the email on my blog, because I would like to think that it may encourage others to not just sit back and complain, but instead to use that democratic voice we all have to try and effect change for the better.

Dear Sir/Madams,

I hope that this email finds you all well. I am writing in regard to the green waste services of Hornsby Shire Council, which I consider to be somewhat sub-standard. In particular, I refer to services for Ward A, as I am a Berowra Heights resident. I hope that you will be able to provide some feedback regarding this issue.

First and foremost, there is no denying that the Hornsby Shire Council area is indeed a verdant bushland shire, something to be treasured not just for its beauty but also for its role in providing valuable habitat for wildlife. Understandably, this green reputation that Hornsby Shire Council has should be protected. This council has some of the toughest tree preservation policies, making it very difficult for residents to obtain permission for the felling of trees, something that I do not necessarily consider a bad thing.

However, I feel that the support services for green waste disposal do not reflect the ocean of green in which we live. The recent advertising campaign introducing Hornsby Council's recycling mascots "The Bin Crew" are a great move in improving awareness of your services, but it left me wondering why more is not being done. I have no issue with the garbage bins - I would struggle to fill the smaller-sized red-lidded bin with refuse even if it remained uncollected for two months. Similarly, the yellow-lidded recycling bins are fine, with fortnightly collection keeping up with our environmentally aware household's recyclables.

The green-lidded bins are however a major problem for me, and for many other residents in the area. Fortnightly collection of green waste is just not often enough for as green an area as Hornsby Shire Council. I would easily be able to fill up the green bin if it were collected weekly. I would humbly request that you take this feedback on board and consider changing the fortnightly collection to a weekly collection.

Another problem that I wish to discuss is related to the recent storm that hit our area on Friday 8th June. A large 12-metre-plus pine tree toppled in our backyard, and whilst I am grateful that it missed our house (though only by a matter of metres), I find the problem of disposal of this great quantity of green waste to be problematic in the extreme. I called Hornsby Council to arrange for a kerbside pickup, only to be informed that green waste is not included as part of this service.

I find this to be extremely unusual, considering that it would take me some 3 or 4 months to dispose of the branches through the only means currently available to me - the council's green bins. I was informed that the area had not been declared a state of emergency, and as such, no additional funding was available for removal of fallen trees if said trees fall on private property.

The council area in which I grew up (Blacktown City Council) provides up to 12 household cleanups per year at no extra fee to the rate payer, and they allow green waste to be included in this cleanup. Please note the following extract from their website:

Bundle tree cuttings in manageable bundles of length up to 1.5 metres. Please bundle thorny branches such as Bougainvilleas or Roses so that thorns are not a hazard to our collection staff

Hornsby Shire Council, as well as being very green, also has the dubious honour of having one of the more expensive rates-levels in the greater Sydney area. I was naively expectant that we would be getting something more for our money.

Considering the ease with which green waste can be disposed of by large council bodies, as well as its usefulness in being processed for by-products such as mulch, I had hoped that more would be done to address this matter. It is surely in everyone's best interests to reduce the amount of dry wood and leaf waste both for the sake of bushfire hazard reduction and to reduce pest infestations.

I look forward to your reply. Thanks in advance for your consideration of this matter.

Why Do I Rant?

Greetings and salutations to you, oh Rambling Masses,

The title of this post is a question I have been asking myself lately. Why do I rant? Strangely enough, this question has a very simple answer - if I don't rant, then I am one of those 80 or 90% of the population that just sticks their heads in buckets of sand, ignoring the injustices around us. I can't do that, despite the fact that thinking about these things brings me some pain, sends my blood a-boiling and causes not a little depression.

The alternative (sand bucketing) is far worse in my opinion. If enough of a groundswell can build up, then maybe we might just be able to change things for the better. I'd like to thank Richard Neville for his wonderful blogs (see links to other sites on the right hand side of my blog to visit his). They are chilling, challenging, gruesome reading, but there is the constant glimmer of hope in there as well. Hope is something that I had recently lost sight of, and his insightful words have helped me to see that there are more of us out there than I thought. Celia, Paul and Dave also played a major role in making me see this new light. Thank you all.

What a brave new world we live in. It used to be the case that politicians would kiss babies to woo the electorate. Now we live in a world where Beige Howard, Dubya and Blair Witch (and the carbon copy replacing him) don't kiss babies. Instead, they kill babies, and then cover it up. Iraqi and Afghani civilians are dying in droves, much worse than when the Taliban or Saddam were at the wheel. The nation that gave us two atomic bomb hits on civilian populations just over 60 years ago (proving them to be the worst terrorists of all), are up to their old tricks, and I am left to ponder how this came about, and even more importantly, how they are allowed to get away with it.

Are we so anaesthetised in our self-centred lives, worrying about our wallets and all of those pretty things we own, that we are incapable of divining a truth so blatantly obvious that it staggers the imagination? Has TV finally sucked out the last traces of free thinking and intelligence from us all, so that we just blithely and blindly accept or ignore the current state of affairs?

Even smokers, who once so staunchly battled for their rights to inhale, are giving up with nary a whimper. Whilst I do not for one minute condone that particular odious habit and am happy that the harmful effects of smoking are finally "general knowledge", it is indicative of the greater erosion of our community voice and fighting spirit. Like Iago's Othello, we are as tenderly led by the nose as asses are, and we seem to be meekly accepting each new slice that is cut away from our democratic pie. What further liberties will our governments take with our liberty before the sleeping Rambling Masses stir?

The duplicity of the mass media can not be ignored in all of this. I see their black hand behind the scenes, spoon feeding us the latest info-tainment titbits. They feed us misinformation, omit any references to the dark truth, and fail in their duty of care to the highest degree.

But, hey, wait a minute. There is actually a heck of a lot of information out there in the public domain. Lots of facts that the pig-troughers would not want us to know. There is a steadily growing counter-culture of bloggers, independent journalists, authors, ethicists, moralists, scientists, artists, futurists, musicians and free thinkers out there, bringing us the real truth.

So, I would humbly suggest to all of you that you get off your asses and do some research, instead of concerning yourselves with the latest twist that Big Brother has got planned for the house mates, or what Paris Hilton got up to on the weekend.

There are no excuses for ignorance, or pretending that it's all okay, because it's not all okay. True democracy can be a wonderful system, and let's face it, it is the best form of mass governance that we have been able to come up with. Democracy is not something that just happens, it is not a natural state that all social structures gravitate towards. It is not that dark and twisted capitalist-driven hell that America is trying to bring to the Middle East.

Democracy is something that we all tend to take for granted, and it is under threat in this, our modern age. It is our duty as members of democratic states to preserve it's true spirit, and to ensure that our democratically elected leaders do not twist and warp it into something that is decidedly undemocratic, leading us down destructive and intolerant paths. As such, we must all take on the role of democracy watchdogs. This is where one of those age-old Australian traditions comes in - keeping the bastards honest.

Well, newsflash! Over the past few decades, we have allowed those bastards to not just lie through their teeth and get away with it, but we have become so fat and lazy in body and mind that we even allow them to commit our nation to untold crimes against humanity, just because Beige Howard's tongue feels so good when he's talking about the economy.

Crimes against humanity are being committed as you read this. War crimes of the most heinous nature are being perpetrated every day by the so-called liberators, the Coalition of the Willing. Or, as Richard Neville calls them, the Coalition of the Killing. That seems a much more appropriate moniker, certainly more truthful.

Just as the sixties gave us "All the way with LBJ", the noughties are giving us "On a killing spree with GWB". I am hopeful and quietly confident that the student and hippie revolution of those bygone days will return in a new wave of public protest, as the Rambling Masses finally find their voice. So go to your rooftops and shout out that we will not stand for this any longer. Send letters to our politicians, asking them if they can sleep at night with these weights on their conscience. Fill the mass media's editorial inboxes with demands to know the truth instead of the platitudes and coverups that run so rampant. Tell the shock jocks to shut up and stop spreading hate and intolerance. Demand that a worthy opposition with real ideals and values stands up at the next election. Rant to your heart's content, but rant to make a difference.

And if you think that you as an individual can't make a difference, then I am sorry to tell you, but you are wrong! If you are numbed into submission, then the pseudo-democratic apparatchiks have won, and you may as well curl up and die in your McMansions. But if you choose to exercise your democratic right to free speech, then you are empowering yourself to make a difference. Individual voices may not be heard, but eventually these voices of protest will reach a critical mass, and the leaders of the world will have no choice but to listen. That is when we can reclaim our pride in the system, when our leaders are forced to rule in an ethical and moral manner, standing up for great ideals and making mankind a power for good on this planet.

If history has taught us nothing, ("and it hasn't" as Homer Simpson once uttered) then it is this - we must not stand by and let our leaders take us down the path of evil. Remember what happened last time people just stood by and watched as a madman brought us to the brink? Sieg Oil, anyone?

A Bucket Of Sand For Your Head

Hello oh Rambling Masses,

I was having a conversation with a few friends at a public drinking house on the weekend, and I am afraid that the two pints of Guinness I consumed unlocked the ranter within. We discussed some of the bad stuff going on in the world, and some of the views opined inspired me to compose this little poem.

A Bucket Of Sand For Your Head

A bucket of sand for your troubles, a bucket of sand for your head,
Carry it 'round wherever you go, gravelly goodness not just for show;
If reality rears its ugly head, you can always just play dead,
Those silicone beads will cater to your needs, hiding the harm in your way,
So take my advice and don't think twice, a bucket of sand for your head.

It will all be okay, we will find a way, man's ingenuity conquers all,
We've a mystic mandate, the world on our plate, nothing will stand in our way,
No obstacles here, no need to fear, no hint of the inevitable fall,
Darwin's extinction of species is just so much faeces, not affecting us,
We'll soldier on, continue the con, with buckets of sand for our heads.

The miniature quartz will hide the warts, no blemishes on our skin,
No need for attitude, replace it with platitude, it's so much easier then,
No hard questions, no indigestions, there's no way our race won't win,
Just place the bucket and sound the tucket, safe in our dune of delight,
All senses soothed, all worries smoothed, with buckets of sand for all heads.

The hints of doom, the tidings of gloom, none of it filters through,
It's quiet in here, no disaster is near, and the sand is nice and warm,
I might take a nap, no reason to flap, I can't taste trouble's brew,
There's no reason to panic, to behave oh so manic, the glass is always half full,
I'll enjoy the view, and right on cue, use a bucket of sand for my head.

Beige At Sea

Hello Rambling Masses,

A picture is worth a thousand words, so here is one to ponder...