Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Janet Albrechtsen, Class Warriors, Kevin Rudd, the skirts of Theresa Rein, and Dame Slap dishing out a belting

Here's a pretty twisting of events, and we owe it all to Janet "Dame Slap" Albrechtsen.

It's such a clever ploy, such a classic chess move, that it reminds of the double envelopment technique deployed by Hannibal against the Romans at the Battle of Cannae in 216 BC. In Rudd hiding behind St Therese, Janet gets to praise PM Rudd's wife Therese Rein in a way that requires a nose peg over the nose to minimise the stench of hypocrisy, while putting the boot into Rudd in classic droog bovver girrrl style. Go girrrl.

So Malcolm Turnbull takes a swipe at Rudd for taking a swipe at neo-liberalism because his wife has made out like a bandit - this from a squillionaire. So assorted heavies like Stephen Smith and Craig Emerson take a swipe at Turnbull for playing the wife, not the ball. So Dame Slap takes a slap at them for using Rein to have a go at Turnbull.

Huh? If Turnbull hadn't been so dumb, and desperate, to lay a glove, somehow, anywhere, anyhow on the Ruddster, the boys wouldn't have been able to give him a love tap on his squillionaire jaw, at a time when Malcolm is in the middle of a very bad time with the polls and his passive aggressive backbencher, Peter "the fundie loving" Costello.

Poor Janet is in mourning for Rein, in a way that reminds me of assorted heavies in dark glasses and heavily striped suits sobbing their hearts out and wiping away the tears at a Mafia wedding:

In 2007, I wrote that a woman who "ought to be the hero of working Australians" had been brought undone, not by a conflict of interest (the government conflicts could have been managed) but by a conflict of policy. Her successful business, which employed workers on common law contracts, became a potent and successful symbol of the flexibility that the ALP rejected.

Er Janet, she got out of the game because she knew the likes of Turnbull would kick her arse, and use the same cheap tricks you just deployed, every opportunity they got. But you have to give it to Dame Slap for the cheeky effrontery of her opening line (I bet she felt the same rosy glow she gets when watching Alex strut his stuff in Clockwork Orange):

Therese Rein must be sick of being used and abused in every conceivable way by the ALP and its allies.

And lauded by the likes of Janet Albrechtsen. Sure, black is white, and last I checked, the sun rises in the west, and sinks in the east over Malcolm Turnbull's modest shack.

You see, it's all the fault of the bovver boys - If they genuinely believed that spouses should be kept out of the rough and tumble of politics, they would not have used her as a shield to deflect and embarrass Turnbull. In a sense, they were forced to using Rein because they had no other comeback to Turnbull's criticism of Rudd ...

But Janet, Turnbull mentioned her first, in a fatally flawed way. In my time in your playground, I learned that it was vitally important to get in first in any 'did so', 'didn't', 'did so', 'didn't', 'did so, nyah nyah' argument.

The smug, sanctimonious, pious hypocrisy of your gut hating approach is wonderful.

Let's repeat - for the sake of clarity - that Rein is a fine role model and that she and her family should enjoy the fruits of her hard labours in business. Just as my family and I enjoy the fruits of my husband's work as a successful businessman.

Well yes, let's repeat - for the sake of clarity - that Albrechtsen is a fine role model for anyone wanting to be a hatchet columnist of any stripe, showing how to draw her own partner into an argument as a completely useless straw dog.

Janet, news flash. Last election the people voted out the Liberals, and most pundits agree that the Howard government's industrial policy was a significant issue. It had nothing to do with Rein as class warrior, everything to do with people feeling the pinch of 'flexibility'. That's why there are so many nervous nelly Liberals unable to decide what to say or do about the current Fair Work bill. 

Why don't you get on board with that? (I for one object to union reps stepping over the porch uninvited, having had it happen to me a number of times). Hang on, you think it's all about class warfare?

Rudd and his comrades in government are the very worst form of class warriors. They feel the pain of the underclass when it suits and then enjoy the fruits of the overclass.

Oh so there is an overclass and an underclass? There are haves and have nots? And whose side are you on Janet? Rupert Murdoch? Well at least he's not the very worst form of class warriors. He only feels the pain of the underclass when it sells papers, so he can enjoy the fruits of the overclass.

Funny I never thought I'd be reading Dame Slap for a Marxist analysis of society, but there you go.

Yes it seems the pigs have taken over Animal Farm. How that hurts the humans, and them being ever so kind to the animals. Yes the pigs fly business class, while the poor old CEOs fly economy. How's this for a chant? CEOs and workers unite!

The pigs get behind the deliberately nondescript frosted glass door to Qantas' exclusive Chairman's Lounge any day of the week where Labor MP's waft around enjoying free food and drink far from the workers outside. It's not free of course. Rudd's friends, the workers, are paying for it.

Right, that does it, revolutionary comrade Dame Slap has spoken. Fellow animals, we must revolt. It's revolting, seeing the pigs at the trough at Qantas chairman's lounge. I'm instructing my partner to resign immediately from this elitist institution. It's revolting, so we're revolting. (And see I can drag my partner into an argument like the best of them).

Time to bring back the humans to rule the farm. What's that you say? The humans are going to select one in ten animals who voted incorrectly at the last election, and send them off to the abattoirs as a lesson to us all? Sob. Trapped between the pigs and the humans, and with Dame Slap herding us towards the cafeteria (or worse still Virgin Airlines) so we can pay an exorbitant price for a sandwich while listening to her extraordinary evocation of class warfare in Australia.

Personally I blame Theresa Rein for all this. If she hadn't been a tall poppy, if she hadn't been successful, none of this name calling would have happened. It's yet another example of the dangers of women getting out of line, sticking up their heads and thinking no one will take a pot shot at them. As the notorious Harry Enfield said in a clip now back in the archives on this site, WOMEN, KNOW YOUR PLACE.

Still you have to hand it to Dame Slap. How's this for a line: If you are going to write the kind of dishonest and hypocritical claptrap as you did in The Monthly, you can expect to have people pointing out the intellectual and moral weaknesses in your arguments. And you have to understand this battle of ideas can get a bit willing. If you're going to dish it out, you need to stand your ground when someone belts you back in an obvious weak spot. Glass jaws have no place in politics. And with due respect, PM, if you're going to start a fight like this, don't hide behind your wife's skirt when battle is joined.

What a stew of bile and nonsense.

Boil it down and you get Nyah, nyah, you dumb overclass class traitor. 

Yeah Kevvie, it's up to the likes of me and Janet to write dishonest, hypocritical claptrap. So we can point out how intellectually and morally weak you are. Because you fly business and have free drinks in the lounge. How's that for being intellectually and morally superior you dummy?

When Janet and I travel, we get out the trusty old thumb and hitch our way down the Hume. Sometimes we get a speedy lift, and sometimes a sociopath like that Belanglo forest killer picks us up, but never no mind, it allows us to be righteous, point scoring pricks, at one with the workers.

You have so many weak points Ruddster. A glass jaw, and somehow I forgot to mention your puny balls. Just remember, even if they're small, a good punch to the balls will still bring you down. And don't go hiding behind your wife's skirt, you nanny, you sissy boy, you girrrlie. Be like Janet and me. We're ever so logical, willing and able to do you down. And if that means stepping over the rotting corpse of your wife so be it. What you gunna do? You a man, you de man? Think you're Charlie Bronson in Death Wish? You got the balls little man? Step out of that Qantas lounge now ...

(At this point the camera zooms back on a desolate Australian airfield to reveal Janet Albechtsen in boxing gear, her one concession to safety a mouth guard, waving at Kevin Rudd in the Qantas business lounge, urging him to step down on the tarmac for a class-based fight. Rudd, the eteral  chicken, turns to the lumpenproletariet waiter, and orders another glass of Grange ...)

Memo to the Liberals, Gerard Henderson style. Sort out the Peter Costello mess, quickly, and start tackling Labor on substantive issues. Lord knows, there's enough of them. Otherwise Malcolm in the middle is just flying in ever decreasing circles, and will shortly crash land.

And stop Janet Albrechtsen from carrying on like a headless chook Marxist about class warfare. Somebody might start asking how many Liberals belong to the Chairman's Lounge and fly business class ... and about how Malcolm made his squillions ...

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