Tuesday, June 30, 2009

On style.

Prudence rather enjoys Time Team, apart from that vague expectation that Tony Robinson will somehow forget himself and call someone Master and beg for a turnip for his collection.

The whole process of discovery, the scientific explanations, the excitement of the archaeologists - it's a great antidote to the news.

But why does Phil refuse to cut his hair and fingernails?


Monday, June 29, 2009

Post-post-post feminism. Or something.

The wince-inducing plight of Farrah Fawcett came to Prudence's attention some time ago.

Prudence is a little young to remember Farrah as one of Charlie's Angels, and she tends to get a little confused with Wonder Woman, Isis, and Drew Barrymore. (Best not to think too hard about that.)

But, aside from the seriousness of Farrah's cancer, and how sad that she'd finally agreed to marry Ryan O'Neal, and never got to, were Charlie's Angels just another patriarchal construct to trick women into thinking they'd achieved real power?

Prudence loved the whole violence-without-smudging-one's-lipgloss 70's action-concluded-in-a-half-hour-episode thing, and the brilliant spoof that was the Barrymore/Liu/Diaz version.

But they were still Charlie's Angels - that blasted possessive that ruined any real notion of independence. Even if Charlie was merely a voice from a speaker, he still directed the action.

Prudence hopes Farrah is finally directing her own action, and kicking appropriate arse.

Monday, June 22, 2009

A Grech of a day

Prudence has been wincing every time the pinched countenance of Commonwealth Treasury staffer Godwin Grech has appeared on the news.

For all the jokes about flexi-time and extra holidays, the life of a public servant is a beholden one. This doesn't usually appear on the evening news, however.

Prudence, who doesn't know the beleaguered Mr Grech, but has been listening to talk-back radio contributions from people who do, has great difficulty believing he wrote the offending email about preferential treatment of a car dealer by the Prime Minister's office.

It would appear now that Mr Grech, who most probably has a mortgage and other such financial constraints about his person, has lost his career.

Collateral damage?

Thursday, June 18, 2009


Prudence, in a former life, spent a little time in Parliament House, but was never there enough to consider going to the Press Gallery Midwinter Ball.

By all accounts this year's bash was as decadent as ever.

Right down to a male staffer staggering from woman to woman asking if he could feel their breasts.

Prudence supposes, if there is any sort of consolation to this story, it is that he had sufficient manners to ask first.

Furthermore, no-one availed herself of his request, and he's resigned.

Prudence wonders idly what his job prospects are like now.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Cause and effect. Or not.

In the ABC news feed today, Prudence noticed this headline:

Oil demand drops for first time in decade

preceded by this:

Cocaine use on the rise

and wondered whether the two were related.


Overheard in a cafe

Customer: "I'm thinking about having the soup. I don't know."

Waiter (and possibly cafe owner, Prudence isn't sure): "It's good. My mum made it."

Customer: "Yeah, but is she a wog mum?"

Waiter: "Yeah, Greek."

And with that, the customer ordered the soup.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

On accuracy

Prudence isn't making any sort of comment on this case.

But when did life stop meaning life, and start meaning only thirteen and a half years?

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Micro irrelevance

Prudence, in search of jam jars, has been to two op shops this weekend. The first in quite a nice suburb, the other in much less salubrious surrounds.

Both had collections of cook books on their shelves, which Prudence eagerly perused.

Of the 30 in the first shop and four in the second shop, 28 and 3 respectively were microwave cook books.

Prudence suspects there is a conclusion to be drawn there, but isn't sure what it is.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Uncivil disobedience

As Prudence was trying to make it look like she wasn't trudging to work yesterday, she came to the large intersection upon which her office building resides.

Where she spied two pleecemen on bicycles.

One had taken aside a young man of scruffy appearance, and, wielding a book marked Infringements, was talking sternly at him.

Prudence looked around, and finding no evidence of any more serious breach of the peace, presumed that the scruffy man had been jaywalking.

The other pleeceman was idly watching the vehicular and pedestrian traffic at the intersection. Of the latter kind, several besuited types blatantly pooh-poohed the little red man, and jaywalked. But were ignored.

Now, despite this happening in the context of protracted pay negotiations and pleece refusing to issue traffic infringements, Prudence does vehemently hope this was not an example of stereotypical abuse of discretionary power.

Sadly, she presumes it was.