Once upon a time there was a pretty blue rock on a far corner of the universe that was divided up into strange little parcels. Some of these parcels were divided along logical geographical divisions and most were divided randomly and illogically. The monkeys that inhabited these parcels were all convinced that their parcel was better than everyone else’s.
There was a large island where most of the inhabitants were quite happy to be there. Well at least those that have come in the past 250 years or so. The ones that were there before that might not entirely agree with that sentiment and might have the cheek to actually claim that they were there first. It’s ok. The ones that came later have changed a few of the names of a few places back to resemble the names before they came and they even changed 2 words in their national anthem to make the original people feel better. I’m sure the recent arrivals feel better about themselves and how they took some so-called uninhabited and worthless land from a bunch of people who couldn’t defend themselves. You might want to ask that the original inhabitants how they feel about the magnanimous gestures.
The inhabitants of this island are very proud of their Island. It’s theirs. They are so sure it’s theirs that they don’t always want to share it with others. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t. Some poor people who have fled war torn areas and have no way to legally arrive, get into a boat in the hope that they make it to a place that might give them a chance. Well, these people are often taken from their rickety old boats onto rickety old camps on islands that don’t actually belong to the government. That way they don’t actually arrive. Or they do arrive, but are held in camps as if they didn’t arrive. So they might change a few words in a song or lock up a few people looking for a better life, but the main thing is that those that arrived in the past 250 years still feel good about themselves. And so they should. It’s a great place.
In this fine place, life is so perfect that the inhabitants seem to have reduced their attention span to the point that they are no longer able to use complete words and have thus developed a new language; McDonalds is Macca’s. A sandwich, a sanga. Football is footy. The word Australia is never used. Vowels at the beginning of words have no purpose. So ‘Stralia is the formal, Oz the informal. Appropriately, the language is called Strine.
When you drive around the beautiful countryside, looking for a bunch of weird animals, which is somewhat of a national past-time, you notice a lot of billboards scaring you into being good law abiding citizens. Not because its right. Because if you don’t obey then big brother will catch you. The locals seem especially proud of the one warning that you will be caught BEFORE you do something stupid. Hollywood script writers are most surprised that the film “Minority Report” has been so well adopted. The government here is waiting for more technology to become available.
This place has some really liberal ideas (That’s with a small “l”, as opposed to big “L”, which means not very liberal at all. Go figure). Same sex marriage was legalized only quite recently, in 2017. The main professional sport has 18 teams with 40 players per team. 720 players, give or take a few bunged up ones. How many openly gay players are there? ZERO. Maybe only real men play footy. In the Land of Oz real men aren’t gay. Whatt’ya think? Lesbians are ok, though. The women’s teams have lesbians. Very liberal. Go figure. Actually, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say this. Or be cynical. Because if I offend, the pc police will cancel me.
But let’s be fair. This big island really is full of good, cheery, helpful people with a great lifestyle. Law abiding, obedient, slightly boring citizens have willingly endured true hardship (No cynicism here. Just admiration) in order to beat the pandemic. There are many other places on this blue rock that could learn a thing or two about doing things properly.
Just wait for my next instalment.