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Roger Rabbits with |
As W.C.Fields – William Claude Dukenfield – wisely suggested: “Start every day with a smile and get it over and done with”.
And being a like-minded, dusty, irascible, old fart, we’re going to see off the short, post-holiday week with a cluster of complaints, a miscellany of moans. Revel in some grumping with me. It’s purging – it’s good for you.
Like finding a home for the homeless and grotesque scrap metal dragon statue plonked on a street plot in Mount Maunganui’s Pilot Bay. Elsewhere would be good, anywhere else except here: Taihape, Bulls, Bluff. Why did anyone think a dragon sculpture was a good idea?
Dragons are intrinsically not nice – mythical monsters, lizards on steroids, fire breathing, scaly and symbolising evil. So it’s not a piece of art that makes me stop and reflect, mull its artistic virtue. It does make me stop and want it gone.
Like the dragon which terrorised the fabled town of Silene – it demanded a sacrifice every day. Sheep, townsfolk, even a Princess – it was big on meat. Then St George stepped up and turned the dragon into a kebab with his lance, before dragging it into the town square and beheading it with his sword. St George was as big on theatre as the dragon was big on protein.
Let’s follow St George
So instead of a competition to find an appropriate name for Mount Maunganui’s monstrosity, perhaps we should follow St George’s heroic example by vanquishing the dragon? Heave it into the shipping lane so the tides can wash it away to the notorious maritime scrap metal yard of Astrolab Reef. It should feel included out there.
Then they could call the dragon ‘Rusty’ or ‘Dra-gone’. Or they could wheel the ‘taniwha’ into the dankness and darkness of one of those caves on Mount Drury. Isn’t that where dragons are supposed to live?
It was intended as a surprise public gift – a ‘Made in South Africa’ taniwha to protect our waterways. I was unaware the Transvaal Republic featured in Māori legend. And anyway, I pay the regional council the
excessive sum of $700 a year to protect our waterways. The taniwha can stand down.
Of course art is in the eye of the beholder – there isn’t a universal standard for what makes art good, beautiful or ugly. It’s all subjective, determined by individual taste, experience and perspective. So, it’s okay that I don’t like the dragon. And I suppose the dragon is fine as long as it doesn’t come across the bridge to the mainland.
My angel
Then this bit of mischief. I get an invoice, a 2025 ACC levy for my ‘Self-Employed Cover’. Yep, ACC is concerned about the daily hazards I face in banging out a few words on Page 2, and it suggested $423.96 should cover any misadventures that may befall me parked at a desk, staring at two computer screens and thumping a keyboard for a couple of hours.
What can possibly go wrong? What hazards do I face? I break a nail bashing the space bar? I accidently poke myself in the eye sharpening an office supplied Staedtler HB pencil? Lead poisoning from sucking said pencil? I might nod off and drown myself in a days-old cup of cold coffee sitting on my desk. I might get stabbed with a BIC Wite-out for using inappropriate language like “crap”, split infinitives, wrong punctuation, or misusing “affect/effect”.
Mind you it is more than 10 paces to the ‘Boys’ Room’ – and for an older ‘boy’ that trip can be an accident waiting to happen if you miscalculate the travel time and embarrass yourself. Anyhow it’s comforting to know the ACC angels are looking down kindly on me. So comforting I nearly rounded up my $423.96 bill to the nearest dollar. Nearly!
Then the perennial irritant – what time of the year is it immoral to turn the Christmas lights on? An American cable network was howling “shame” this week because retailers were brazenly offering deals to drive Christmas sales a whole two months out from the big day. They hadn’t even finished bleeding people for Halloween.
NZ’s Terracotta Army
We lack a respect for the spirit of Christmas here in New Zealand too. “This made my PayWave chill!” my friend told me, and she knows what’s right and proper. She thought she had encountered an exhibition of the Chinese clay soldiers, The Terracotta Army – albeit a chocolate army at the supermarket. Hordes, battalions of chocolate Santas, looking curiously like the Terracotta Army, all lined up above the chicken tenderloins in the store’s freezers. “Without the style of the soldiers and certainly no understanding of the financial hardship people are experiencing,” she moaned. “Two months out from Christmas. For heaven’s sake. Vulgar and crass, and rampant commercial exploitation of a holy time.”
Do you think retailers will listen?
And then the Christmas carols on loop –sorting a good deal on dunny paper while listening to ‘Snoopy’s Christmas’ yet again, yet again, yet again, is sure to suck you dry of any yuletide spirit.
“Hark the herald angels sing, Splash your cash, Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching!”
Easter eggs should be on the shelves soon…