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Fine little parable from old pal, Jack Lester:

According to a news report, a certain private school in Sydney’s Eastern Suburbs was recently faced with an unusual problem. A number of the girls were beginning to use lipstick and would put it on in the bathroom. That was fine, but after they put on their lipstick they would press their lips to the mirror leaving dozens of little lip prints.
Every night the maintenance man would remove them and the next day the girls would put them back. Finally the Headmistress decided that something had to be done. She called all the girls to the bathroom and met them there with the maintenance man. She explained that all these lip prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who had to clean the mirrors every night (you can just imagine the yawns from the little princesses).
To demonstrate how difficult it had been to clean the mirrors, she asked the maintenance man to show the girls how much effort was required. He took out a long-handled squeegee, dipped it in the toilet bowl, and cleaned the mirror with it.
The silence was broken by a large number of gasps, a few girls vomited and apparently someone fainted. Since then there have been no lip prints on the mirror.
There are teachers . . . and then there are educators.

Nice company the Occupiers keep:

COMMENTARY | Gateway Pundit reveals a fact that some people will find astonishing: The American Nazi Party and the American Communist Party have endorsed the Occupy Wall Street movement, albeit for different reasons.
The Nazis equate capitalism, which the demonstrators are opposed to, to their hallucinations of a Jewish conspiracy. This may be reflected in some of the anti-Semitic rhetoric coming out of the “Occupy Wall Street” demonstrations.
The communists see the current demonstrations as a beginning of an American Bolshevik Revolution and the establishment of a Soviet-style government in the United States. Occupy Wall Street also appeals to their sense of class warfare.

Someone yesterday expressed surprise at how such small attendances – couple of hundred max in Melbourne – command so much media attention.
It was pointed out that more people shopped for an hour in a Woolies supermarket than Occupied for a day.
Maybe it’s all those boomer editors and news directors harking back to their glory moratorium days.

UPDATE:
The cleverest comment to the online media on the Occupiers:
12% of the planets in the solar system have 50% of the mass – Occupy Jupiter!

Off to a historic event today, the last waltz at the Station Hotel in Prahran. It was the first inner suburban pub in Melbourne to showcase great emerging 70s rock. Reincarnated for the day is Winchester, the original house band, most of whose members lived in the neighbourhood in those days. Chris Stockley, Mike Rudd and Tinsley Waterhouse are scheduled to appear in one form or another. The pub closes today, destined to become another 10-storey office block.

Here’s a touching tale:
An Iowa couple who was were married for 72 years died one hour apart last week in the hospital as they held hands.

No one puts it more succinctly than Mark Steyn:

“Europe” has a basic identity crisis: As the Germans have begun to figure out, just because the Greeks live in the same general neighborhood is no reason to open a joint checking account. And yet a decade ago, when it counted, everyone who mattered on the Continent assumed a common currency for nations with nothing in common was so obviously brilliant an idea it was barely worth explaining to the masses. In the absence of ethnic or cultural compatibility, the European Union offered Big Government as a substitute: The project was propped up by two pillars — social welfare and defense welfare. The former regulated Europe into economic sloth even as India, China, and Brazil began figuring out how this capitalism thing worked. The latter meant that the U.S. defense umbrella ensured once-lavish budgets for hussars and lancers could be reallocated to government health care and other lollipops — and it still wasn’t enough. Whatever the individual merits of ever-more-leisurely education, 30-hour work weeks, six weeks’ vacation, retirement at 50, the cumulative impact is that not enough people do not enough work for not enough of their lives. And once large numbers of people acquire the habits of a leisured class, there are not many easy ways back to reality.

A truck carrying President Obama’s teleprompter (jokingly referred to as TOTUS, or the teleprompter of the United States), podiums, and audio equipment has been stolen in Virginia.
Asked to comment, the President was stuck for words.
Commenters are having fun. This, from someone signed Teleprompter #1:

Help, help! I’m being held by the teabagging Koch Bros.. Do what they say or they’re going to hook me up to a car battery and fry my wiring! These guys desperate, they’re not joking. Leave the money where they told you to or I’m toast, and or our Dear Leader will never speak again!

Another day, another air-headed celebrity delivers a repulsive slur:

She was discussing her 1995 film “Dead Man Walking,” based on the anti-death-penalty book by Sister Helen Prejean, a copy of which she sent to the pope.
“The last one,” she said, “not this Nazi one we have now.” Balaban gently tut-tutted, but Sarandon only repeated her remark.

Leftwing commentator Brendan O’Neill is far from convinced by the Occupy Wall Street pseudo revolutionaries:

Just imagine if, during the great New York strikes of the early 20th century, one of the leaders of the workers had stood up and yelled: “We must respect nature’s limits!” What we have on Wall Street today is nothing progressive or pro-worker, but rather a very public display of middle-class piety, of petit-bourgeois values such as thriftiness and meanness and disdain for the vulgar hordes with their insatiable materialism. That this way of thinking and style of protesting are spreading around the world speaks to the global decay of the once progressive left.
It is an insult to the many generations of working people who fought for a better world, for a freer and more plentiful world, to describe this internationally contagious middle-class miserabilism as a “return of working-class anger”.

Who the hell does this numbat think he is?

STATE Parliament is set to pass new legislation making it a criminal offence to “insult” Gaming Minister Michael O’Brien.

Surely, even the wettest of Liberals holds freedom of expression as paramount. This sook should go and join the anti-democratic flyblown Greens.
As you’d expect, this precious petal has never worked in the real world. After graduating, he worked for an industrial lawyer, then joined a politician’s staff.
Reckon I’ve insulted him enough?
Let’s test the big sissie out. Who’s got the most scorching insult?

Almost sprayed the widescreen with tea last night while watching Nine news.
The report on the Lodge’s multi-million dollar upgrade mentioned the works involved getting rid of an old boiler.

Nanny-staters are so self-righteous they are incapable of realising just how stupid they appear.

Children are to be banned from taking part in traditional Christmas games, from blowing up balloons to blowing on party whistles, because of new EU safety rules that have just entered into force.

Surely, there must be some on the port side of politics who feel just a tad embarrassed by such tiny mindedness by their fellow travellers in the bureaucracy.

No wonder this country is drowning in a sea of incompetency. The Australian today reports on the fear and disgust triggered by skyrocketing populations of fruit bats in settled areas along the Australian east coast.
Once, when this was a can-do country, common sense would have prevailed and the pests would have been eradicated. Given that their habitat is much more bountiful for them than it was before white settlement, it’s hardly likely the stinking blighters are at any risk of extinction.
The situation brings to mind my late father’s explanation when I asked him whether swooping magpies were a problem when he was a lad. I’d asked after being attacked by a particularly vicious maggie that loved nothing more than drawing blood from a cyclist’s ear. I’d asked the council and the conservation department to do something about it but they refused because it was a protected species.
“Nah,” said the old man. “Every property back then had an air gun, a rifle and a shotgun.”
Back to the bats. It seems that protected species legislation and muddle-headed bureaucracy have combined to stymie rational attempts to control the exploding bat populations.
This is a serious report of measures taken, but still I laughed out loud reading it.

The Botanic Gardens Trust brought in a team of experts who’d helped shift a bat colony from the Royal Botanic Gardens in Melbourne in 2003. They lodged an 84-page application with the NSW Government and a 94-page application with the Federal Government. They secured agreement with local councils for the relocation of the bats to distant parklands. They consulted the indigenous community. They prepared a 496-page Public Environment Report. They formed a Steering Committee and devised a Wildlife Research Protocol, an Environmental Noise Management Plan and a Site Suitability Assessment. They appointed a Flying Fox Project Officer, along with a Monitoring Team and an Observer Group. An Independent Expert Report was commissioned, and an Expert Committee superseded the Steering Committee.

Fair dinkum, Australia is run by idiots.

FURTHERMORE:
In his brilliant, inimitable way, Professor Bunyip casts more illumination on the brain death that seems to strike authorities when it comes to dealing with airborne rats.

The sensible thing would have been to shoot, gas, club or poison the screaming, crapping pests, but that would have been too simple, especially as the conservationists’ perverse logic kicked in: As flying foxes don’t really belong in Melbourne, their numbers were small. Therefore they are “locally endangered” and every effort must be made to make their latest southern incursion a permanent success. So the colony was moved, at considerable expense, to Yarra Bend, which thousands now call home. They drove off the bellbirds in short order and have done gross damage to the trees in the small and overpopulated pocket of bush in which state-paid naturalists seek to confine them. Of an evening, they pour out to pillage gardens and carpet bomb homes in adjoining suburbs with a rain of poo. The third hole – sorry, what used to be the third hole before town planners altered the course – is now an ugly, blighted landscape of skeletal eucalypts, constant shrieking, and during summer it stinks like a Greens armpit, according to those who play the course often.
It gets worse. Having established themselves in Melbourne, flying foxes are now appearing in Tasmania. And, once again, local conservationists profess nothing but delight. One wonders if that joy will be quite so robust when the first cases of Hendra virus are reported.

Wonder whether this odyssey will prompt a repeat of history?

UPDATE 7.47am: A SIGNIFICANT police presence has descended on Port Melbourne as members of the Rebels bikie gang set off for Mildura.
Up to 1000 members from all 70 chapters around Australia of the outlaw motorcycle club will descend on the country town.
A Victoria Police spokesman said officers had this morning conducted searches and checks of bikies as they left Station Pier.

In 1981 the Mayor of Mildura, Cr Roy Burr, got rid of visiting troublemakers by employing an ancient legal device.

A crowd of about 3000 finally dispersed on Saturday night after a local justice of the peace, Mr Roy Burr, read the Riot Act over a police public address system.

HOPE they don’t CHANGE the 11 secret herbs and spices recipe.

But in Beijing, China, a restaurant is actually calling itself OFC with a logo that looks alarmingly like the President dressed in the colonel’s clothes.

Lefty SMH scribbler Mike Carlton let fly with this at the weekend:

Bolt’s parents were from Holland. If he believes that freedom of speech carries a licence to spear people for their ethnicity, he will not then object to me suggesting he would do better to quit the media and take up growing tulips and making cheese. Wearing clogs. Ah, the Lying Dutchman.
Never let the facts get in the way of a good story, Mynheer.

A reader and supporter of Andrew Bolt, Jack Richards, didn’t like this diatribe and told Carlton.

I wrote to the author of that article, Mike Carlton, to express my disquiet about his febrile and racist vilification of Dutch people and, reading between the lines, all people of western European ethnic origin. Being of west European heritage myself, I found his article offensive, insulting, humiliating and intimidating.

Carlton’s a controversial columnist who no doubt attracts critics – he’d be a failure if he didn’t. So how does this champion of respectful speech respond to a fair complaint?

His response was to tell me I had the brains of a sh*t sandwich, to get f**ked and his last remark was “Now piss off, pest. You have just made the junk folder…”

It’s almost a daily event for some egotistical numbat from the Left to commit their hypocritical, offensive opinions to posterity by assuming a vile comment on the internet has no more permanency that an aside at the public bar.
Even Carlton’s dwindling readership must consider him a goose.

An oldie but a bloody beauty from old pal Jack Lester:

The Lone Ranger and Tonto were at the bar drinking, when in walks a cowboy who yells, “Who’s white horse it that outside?”
The Lone Ranger finishes off his whiskey, slams down the glass, turns around and says, “It’s my horse. Why do you want to know?”
The cowboy looks at him and says, “Well, your horse is standing out there in the sun and he don’t look too good.”
The Lone Ranger and Tonto run outside and they see that Silver is in bad shape, suffering from heat exhaustion. The Loan Ranger moves his horse into the shade and gets a bucket of water. He then pours some of the water over the horse and gives the rest to Silver to drink.It is then he notices that there isn’t a breeze so he asks Tonto if he would start running around Silver to get some air flowing and perhaps cool him down.
Being a faithful friend, Tonto starts running around Silver. The Lone Ranger stands there for a bit then realizes there is not much more he can do, so he goes back into the bar and orders another whiskey.
After a bit a cowboy walks in and says, “Who’s white horse is that outside?”
Slowly the Lone Ranger turns around and says, “That is my horse, what is wrong with him now?”
“Nothing,” replies the cowboy, “I just wanted to let you know that you left your Injun running.”

I experienced an unexpected moment of graciousness in the wake of yesterday’s tragic Magpie loss.
It was something of a consolation to have had a couple of wins on the neddies. So after the match I made my way to the local pub-TAB to collect, anticipating plenty of chiacking from Cats-supporting regulars.
As I walked in, a most happy chappy in blue and white exclaimed to me: “Isn’t it absolutely fantastic?”
“Might be for you, mate,” I replied. “But I’m a Collingwood man and I’m gutted. Although the clearly better team won on the day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I just assumed everyone here was a Geelong fan.”
And then he apologised again, mentioning that in the first half he feared Collingwood had his team’s measure.
Like Collingwood, the Cats have had their share of Grand Final disappointments, so I don’t begrudge their supporters their hour of glory.
But it was nice to experience a magnanimous gesture amid the unbridled celebrations.
That’s another reason why Geelong will always be my second team.

Miranda Devine comments on the latest spate of hate speech from the ”progressive” Left.

Mitchell suggests that if Abbott were prime minister he would impose “his deeply conservative values and what he believed to be ‘giving glory to God’.”
Women see Abbott as “a relic of an old-style male: pugnacious, aggressive, arrogant. Very few women find it appealing. They have been subjugated and disempowered by such men for too long”.
Seriously. Anyone who knows Abbott knows he is far from a misogynist. A loving husband and father of three girls, he has two sisters, and a mother who love him, and women in key roles in his office. When it comes to opinion polls, the leader with woman-trouble is Julia Gillard. She has lost the female vote by eight percentage points, from 38 per cent to 30 per cent, in the past three months, according to Newspoll.
Blokey Abbott is more popular with women by five points.

Such savage commentary must be contagious among the hate-filled Left, judging by the defamatory bilge excreted by professional compassionista Julian Burnside:

So excited was human rights lawyer Julian Burnside, QC, on Friday that he took to Twitter to praise the book before it went on sale.
“I have read this book. Abbott is a dangerous man with no moral compass,” he wrote in a series of tweets. “Abbott is seriously dangerous, not least because he is a massive hypocrite.”
“Great book; terrifying portrait of a truly dangerous, unprincipled person: a liar and a hypocrite.”
“It’s a great book. Abbott will lead the country back to the dark ages.”
And, in case you didn’t pick up the dog whistling bigotry, there was this tweet: “Paedos in Speedos.”
Burnside apologised two hours later: “This is unprompted apology to #Abbott. He is NOT a pedophile and I was not referring to him.

Generally, Abbott’s life mix, his family, values, interests – and his approach to them – reflect pretty much that of the average Australian father and husband, whether they’re Labor or conservative voters. Which just goes to show how shallow and out of touch chardonney socialists like Mitchell and Burnside are. By condemning Abbott with such vicious language for his middle-of-the-road convictions and fergawdsakes, his Catholicism, (a serving of bigotry, anyone?) Mitchell is vilifying a huge cross-section of Australian men and the wives and daughters who love and respect them. These are the people who in their millions this weekend are barbecuing and barracking. What is it about the Left and their hate-filled language?