Crank the Croc
THE Electoral Commission of Queensland, in its digital-first wisdom – isn’t particularly helpful given it only has one job.
If you happen to live in Glass House Mountains and wanted to know where your closest pre-polling booth was last week, its website sent you all the way to Caboolture. No thanks, bruh. Pre polling isn’t for me anyway. I much prefer to while away my Saturday standing in snaking lines, holding my saggy democracy sausage and Coke and every party’s how-to-vote cards while attempting small talk with the missus. Go, democracy!
Death becomes me
Speaking of my better half, the most disturbing story I read last week was about a 33-year-old woman who sleeps in a hyperbaric chamber so she can live to 150 “to ensure she has as many years as possible with her husband”. Lols all round.
First question that came to mind: Did she ask her hubby about this?
Having just hit 25 years with mine, it’s worth asking. Another century gives me the shakes and that’s before I develop Parkinsons in the next decade or two.
This person does all the rich-kid stuff: hyperbaric chambers, red light therapy, cryotherapy. Her friends know only to visit early as she’s in bed by 8.30pm. What a bore. Makes ‘til death do you part’ seem a stretch too far.
Each to their own
Everyone has piled on to Lidia Thorpe’s actions targeting King Charles in Parliament last week.
I hate seeing anyone making a scene but I’ll always back someone’s right to protest in various wacky ways. Aussies struggle with her because we’re not overtly aggressive when expressing our point of view. But you should answer questions that the public see as rank hypocrisy. She should have to answer questions, such as: Why are you in parliament and a member of the Qantas Chairman’s Lounge while rallying against said system?
