Maroubra On Lookout for Escaped Prisoner; Locals Fail to Notice Problem

Today the AAP reported that a dangerous convict has escaped from Sydney's Long Bay Gaol and describes his appearance thus:

"...distinctive tattoos, including AC/DC across the fingers of his right hand, an illustration of thorns around his right wrist, a picture of the grim reaper on his right shoulder, a large parrot on his left upper arm, and LOVE across the fingers of his left hand."

Those who own property there may beg to differ, but Maroubra isn't exactly the genteel well-heeled leafy suburb this kind of character would stand out in. Maybe he'll quietly crawl into a bikie clubhouse somewhere and live off sawdust and Toohey's New until crosses state lines. He may get away with it. It's been a quiet year.

Sydney Displays Rare Moment of Social and Political Awareness - Rally to Support Wikileaks

FRIDAY 10 DECEMBER: A thick blanket of soggy heat draped over the Emerald city, rendering everything shades of yellow-grey, much like the sandstone architecture that peppers the CBD itself. Assembled are about one thousand representatives of all walks of life in Australia, to show their support for the whistleblower website Wikileaks, and its mercurial Aussie founder, Julian Assange.


In the week leading up to this demonstration, I made jokes to my family about G20-style protests for a cheap laugh. The reality was somewhat more mundane. Instead of tear gas and smashed windows, there is enough body odour to bring tears to my eyes, and men on the wrong side of 35 sporting haircuts that looked like they were done in the dark with one's hands tied behind one's back.

The story of Wikileaks is so endlessly enthralling, disturbing and entertaining all at once, it's quite like watching some political performance art play out in real time.

Anyone who has spends enough time online in Australia has probably heard of Wikileaks by now. Here is the short version: Aussie ex-hacker turned activist starts website that publishes leaked documents from government, military and corporate sectors. The goal is to instigate reform of corrupt institutions. Aussie flies around the world several times over, scoring several significant scoops and kudos along the way. Aussie receives American military classified material. Aussie starts publishing LOTS and LOTS of said documents. Aussie sleeps with two women in Sweden on two separate occasions. The two women eventually accuse him of sexual misconduct, going to the police. He is not formally charged. Four months and many disclosures later, the Wikileaks website is under denial of service attacks; major financial institutions sever ties with them, and the Americans are howling for Assange's blood. Literally. In December, wanted in Sweden for questioning over the alleged sexual misconduct, Assange voluntarily turns himself in to British police following European arrest warrant procedure. He is arrested and placed in solitary confinement in London's Wandsworth prison, held in the same cell as the one Oscar Wilde had once occupied. Finally granted bail, a wealthy supporter provides surety to allow Assange to remain under house arrest in a stately home in rural England, where he now fights his extradition to Sweden, fearing that once there, the United States government will apply for extradition to the Land of the Free in retaliation for all those naughty disclosures.

That was the short version. *cough*

At the time of today's protest, Assange was in what he described as 'Victorian' conditions in Wandsworth, and the Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard had wasted no time in declaring his actions illegal - not the sexy-time stuff, the mass leaking of classified government data stuff.

So here I found myself, amongst a throng of angry but well behaved fellow city folk who had gathered to decry this political hypocrisy. For once, Sydney played the role of the intelligent, politically-engaged city to Melbourne's temporarily showy celebrity-obsessed shallowness (thanks to Oprah). It's usually the other way around.

Here's my photo gallery of the protest on Flickr.

The Winfrey Army Descends

Oprah is coming. Were you aware? If you weren't, we envy you. That means you have adequately sheltered yourself from the trashmedia Chernobyl of Oprah coverage.
Speaking of trashmedia, we get reports today from SMH that Oprah's PR flaks are more obstinate than the terracotta warriors of Xian:

"...journalists wishing to report on Winfrey's visit are asked not just to supply passport photographs, but explain what sort of stories they will write and where they will be used, be prepared to send examples of work and to discuss applications once they have been reviewed."

News.com.au in comparison has cheerfully revealed her itinerary. For example:

The Oprah itinerary

Today

- Audience arrives at Sydney airport on two planes

- Hotel check-in

Early afternoon

- Small groups enjoy walks and bike tours of Sydney and the Opera House

- 4-8pm - Harbour cruise to Taronga Zoo.

Tomorrow

- Oprah arrives on private jet

We suggest another possible itinerary:

Today

- Arrive at plush 5-star hotel. Ignore beggar with pneumonia cough outside the lobby. Buy first authentic Aussie hamburger.

Early Afternoon

- Two hours of interviews with breathless morning talk show hosts. Get paper-cuts from a rabid fan with a placard. Go to Newtown; leave in ignominy from over-consumption of pad thai.

Tomorrow

- Hold court at the pool. Do more interviews to quell rumours of latent lesbianism. Go for drink with Gayle King at the Bank Hotel with the local lacrosse association.

When Pynongyang Comes to Town

On a preparedness scale of 1-10, ten being Turkey during the battle of Gallipolli, and one being Pompeii, how do you think Sydney would cope with nuclear fallout from a war between North & South Korea?



Would Clover Moore's new bike lanes provide us with the escape routes we need? Would the Bondi Pavilion serve as a handy kiosk of sausage sizzles for your tired poor huddling masses? Would the drug dealers of Kings Cross and Cabramatta upskill to become medical corps for the army?

If You're A Binge Drinker, NYE in Sydney will Suck

[Pic from Boudist]

According to the Daily Telegraph, a co-ordinated attack on the pleasure centres of Sydney has been announced by various councils...

"Most CBD foreshore vantage points are "managed access sites" with strict bans on BYO alcohol and glass, plus mandatory bag checks.

Revellers face alcohol and glass bans at the Opera House, Circular Quay, Darling Harbour, Tarpeian Precinct, Mrs Macquaries Point, The Rocks and Dawes Point, Embarkation Park at Potts Point, Bradfield Park at Milsons Point and Blues Point Reserve at McMahons Point.

At Bondi Beach, a team of nine or 10 will work through the night to maintain noise restrictions at the Shore Thing music event.

Event producer and noise complaint co-ordinator Cathy James said all Sydney councils were becoming stricter and noise restrictions were increasingly being "policed by councils".

"They're really heavily regulated and it's becoming very tight," Ms James said."

Oh noes! Do you mean to tell us that scantily clad orange-hued women and Tarocash or General Pants-outfitted red-faced men will not be able to wield goon bags and bottles of Smirnoff Black at us on the harbour foreshore! Quelle dommage!

The NSW Revenue Conspiracy

One of the benefits (or permanent psychological scars, depends on your perspective) of growing up with Southern European heritage is that you learn to find the conspiracy in everything. Especially when it has anything to do with money. Others would refer to this as "looking beyond the dominant paradigm'. I'll tell you what it really is: lazy thinking; a great excuse for not practicing your civic duties; expressing your inner cheapskate.

Case in point: The missing railway station rubbish bins in Sydney. Shortly after the attacks of 9/11, virtually all bins at Sydney metropolitan train stations disappeared. Already-filthy train carriages reached new levels of squalor. The underlying assumption was two-fold: It is for our own security; and you should be carrying some kind of receptacle to carry those empty-but-still-leaking coffee cups, you wasteful destroyer of nature! If there was public outrage, it was silent. Many simply shrugged, "well dem terrists drop bombs in bins you know!" (Perhaps choosing to ignore the fact that most terrorist attacks consist of explosives delivered by vehicle or strapped to a person).

It was in light of these developments that my father, seasoned veteran of anti-bureaucratic outrage and virtuoso whinger, posited his theory that the missing bins were proof of a conspiracy to lighten our wallets and fill the coffers of local and state government. "It's very simple you see," he'd start yammering. "They take the bins away, and force you to litter. The rate of littering increases dramatically. Then the issuing of fines increases. The result is that the government gets slightly richer."

Well now those missing rubbish bins are back. Railcorp has relented and decided to reintroduce them, possibly ushering in a new era of relaxation in the face of terror. I haven't yet asked my father what he thinks, but I can guess he may not have even noticed - train carriages are swimming in more filth than ever. The litter-bug scumbags won, not the terrorists!