Hyper-Auto-Repellence: A Personal Plea
What should we make of Christopher Pyne?
Some kind of glovepuppet?
This week Australin politics farewelled a titan in Gough Whitlam. Many
people voiced opinions on this, ranging from Prime Minister Abbott's
opinion that Whitlam wasn't the best PM ever, to Julia Gillard's opinion
that he was actually so great he was a lot like Julia Gillard, to every
News Ltd columnist's opinion that he ruined everything for everyone and
it's a good thing that finally his ring has been cast into the fires of
But, Abbott's somewhat faint praise notwithstanding, most of the
tributes from actual parliamentarians were quite complimentary and very
respectful. Even Philip Ruddock said some pretty nice things about him,
and Philip Ruddock dug his own soul out of himself with a rusty lino
knife when he was eight.
But Pyne...well, Pyne made a jolly little speech in which he noted that when Whitlam was dismissed, his mother cried, and "I have to let you in on a secret, she was crying out of joy"
Very very concerning
I don't know if Christopher reads this blog - no idea why he wouldn't -
but if he does, I'm here to say: Christopher, I am no longer enabling
you. I will write no more about how awful you are, now that I realise
it's just feeding your addiction. Instead, I urge you: get help,
Christopher. Don't be afraid to reach out.
You might think you can't be happy, Christopher, unless you're being
hated. But believe me: you CAN. With a caring therapist and a good
support system at home, you might even find a way to derive pleasure
from being liked.
And I promise Christopher: when you do, we'll all be a lot more relaxed.