Category Archives: Uncategorized

Guess who’s back.

This has been a long time brewing. The subject matter is one I never intended to discuss, but a recent conversation with Siv Parker has brought the issue to the point of personal detonation, so shall I rant. For the record, Siv is one of the most outstanding advocates I’ve ever met. She happens to be black, though I’d class her as a champion of humanity as opposed to merely an indigenous spokesperson – honourable enough as that is.
The backbone of this dummy-spit is personal, so in the interests of full disclosure and an inherent unwillingness to inflict painful boredom I strongly advise you to stop reading now. Warn others to do the same for the sake of all that is good and holy.
Some time ago I wrote a piece for King’s Tribune. It was angry and sorrowful, written on my final night in Vietnam. I had developed a deep and abiding love for the country. It had not only provided me with the love of my life, whom I had recently married, but blown me away with the warmth and sincerity of its inhabitants and convinced me to regard the place as something of a spiritual home. I would trade my Australian citizenship in a second to live in Tam Dau, or Vinh Yen, or Hanoi if it came to it.
The aforementioned piece bemoaned the uniquely Australian preoccupation with the mundane, as opposed to substantive issues worthy of true indignation. In the course of that particular rant I purposefully drew a tasteless analogy involving a silicate and an orifice I have since learned exists solely to be lovingly admired with the aid of a hand mirror. True to form, and sadly thrusting my gist into incredulous mouths on my behalf, a certain spanner-resembling portion of the online community railed against the words in euphoric ignorance of the argument. My editor caved to concerted pressure and censored the offending paragraph. A first, I believe. A published rebuttal would have been my choice, but when dealing with people who think a caps locked ‘fuck you’ is a reasoned response, she didn’t really have much to work with.
Jane copped the worst of it. I was left with an even split of the morbidly unhappy, those who view soap as a capitalist plot and a few reasonable people who argued their case in a reasonable manner. OK, that’s a lie. There was one reasonable person.
Of all the barrage of dickhead there was a resplendently standout moment, a singularity of gross lack of self awareness that actually hurt me. It came from a woman who regards herself as something of feminist royalty. I won’t name her as she embezzles enough oxygen already. Also, we have friends in common. Finally, I don’t want to toss the intellectually impoverished a buoy. She’ll have to forage for ideas elsewhere.
The comment was a throw-away. It wasn’t worthy of a screen capture, so I’ll paraphrase it as ‘he went to Vietnam because he couldn’t marry a real woman’, which is a pretty fair rendition. I’d now like to address that remark comprehensively.
First, you call yourself a feminist yet women other than Australians are less real? Less worthy? You fucking sad little failure. You are to feminism what Deveny is to atheism.
Second, my wife speaks three languages. She is an accountant with a business degree. She runs her family’s numerous companies. She could buy you with her pocket change. I don’t know enough Vietnamese yet to appreciate her in her native tongue, but she uses English with a concision, originality and humour I am yet to read in anything you’ve written. In fact, you’re a dead set bore.
Third, I followed her from Australia, where she was studying, to Vietnam. I did this because I had fallen deeply in love with her. She met me at the airport in a simple dress and was the most beautiful vision I had ever seen, an ethereal beauty that one only ever gets to witness once if they’re supremely lucky. I was looking at the love of my life. I had no idea of her family’s wealth, or of how I would be accepted as part of said family. I have uncles, aunts, grandparents who opened their hearts and hearths to me. Their acceptance matters very much. Their money doesn’t.
Fourth, fuck you. I’m rich and have a beautiful wife who teaches high impact aerobics and yoga as a hobby. She is simply better than you. Hell, she can do the splits against a wall while negotiating a discount on a shipment in progress, using the bill of lading as leverage. She uses her spare time to tutor my son in English.
What the fuck are you doing besides whine? What do you actually contribute to anything?
I stopped writing because I didn’t want to subject my wife to racism. You know what? Fuck it and fuck you racists. Bring it on. If you’re lucky you’ll only have to deal with me. My wife will spit your bones out, you cowardly sacks of shit.

Advertisements – Because You Care

Here at™ we understand that you’re a simmering cassoulet of sadness, gin and unrealised potential. We’re here to capitalise on your seemingly limitless reserves of brooding resentment by allowing you to express your often misdirected outrage without having to do anything meaningful, like actually protest, sign real petitions or compose your own thoughts in a coherent manner. We realise your time is important to you and that clicking links takes time, so we have crafted an electronic uber-petition to allow you to address all your grievances at once, safe in the knowledge that it will promptly disappear into the ether without having been read by anyone, let alone tabled in parliament.

We have chosen to target the General Secretary of the Workers’ Party of the Democratic People’s Republic of North Korea because a) he is getting a lot of press and therefore provides decent link-bait and b) because he’s exactly as likely to read and act on this as anyone else:

Dear Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un,

I am writing to urge you to take action on behalf of the decent people who think like I do because I am having strange and powerful emotions. I have taken moderate to deep offence because [select from the following]:

  • Somebody said something on a radio program I don’t listen to
  • Somebody wrote something in a publication I don’t read
  • There are too many characters in Game of Thrones and I am confused
  • Homosexuals
  • Heterosexuals
  • Their ABC
  • I am woman, hear me petition
  • Americans
  • I just like signing stuff
  • Brown people are a bit frightening
  • I am in an emotionally unfulfilling relationship
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Thank you ACA

Before this week I had nary a clue of how to put together a news report. I wasn’t a journalist so, strangely, it had never occurred to me to want to learn. Fortunately ACA came to my rescue and saved me from my own ignorance. Now I am a qualified producer. Offers may be submitted to my people. If lunch is done satisfactorily you may indeed be lucky enough to procure my skill in elevating your deadbeat, flagging wankfest into ratings gold. Let me tell you what I can do for you.


I take a camera crew into an area that doesn’t see them often so that passers-by are suitably impressed. I get a low rent hack to make small talk among the locals. Maybe hand out a few mars bars and cans of coke to garner their trust. I think of something that might frighten them (some have this pre-planned, but I’m like the John Coltrane of current affairs production, so I like to riff on the vibe of the day). Then I get the hack to ask a few leading questions based on misinformation, record the lot, and edit out any response that doesn’t suit my narrative. Intersperse some footage of an interview with someone of monumental stupidity who is also afraid of what they don’t know or understand, and Bob’s your marauding Asian rapist uncle. Story filed. Await Walkley.


On occasion this may cause backlash among leftists, literates and the marginally self-aware. Should this occur, I merely return to the scene of the crime scoop and accuse a bunch of other people of the prejudice I displayed in producing the first story. They naturally refute such heinous allegations and hey presto! Balance restored.


All that’s required now is to have my head muppet show the divisive, hence newsworthy, nature of my own beat up exclusive. Game over.


I owe it all to ACA. Should you wish to solicit my services I’ll be in my waterfront penthouse, wearing a scarf and indulging in a well-earned beverage.


Misogyny and Homeopathic Language – A Brief Rant

Again I find myself drawn into the periphery of an argument I don’t want to be part of. It’s not like I have no horse in this race – I do. We all do – it’s just that the core of the argument is better addressed by more learned people than me. That said, I’m getting fucking shouty at my twitter feed as I watch people I love and respect embrace the stupid.

My complaint? The PM misused a word in a well overdue but somewhat overrated speech that has become famous globally. The guardian of the sacred key of Australian language at Macquarie decided to expand the definition of the misused word to encompass the PM’s meaning. Because, you know, language evolves. I’ll get back to that in a minute. Now the word is bandied about like some sort of wildcard bailout of every lazy argument ever. It is wrong, and fuck you all for raping the language I love.

Some context: I’ve just spent three months in Vietnam, attempting to learn the language. It is a concise, ordered dialect that is poetic and beautiful because it is imprecise. Ca phe sua is white coffee. Sua ca phe is also white coffee, but it is also iced yoghurt with coffee flavouring. I’m convinced that Vietnam is still poor because of all the returned drinks at coffee shops – not from tourists, but natives. I could cite countless other examples but I’m lazy. My point is that English is arguably the best and most beautiful language on Earth because its ungainly growth has fostered a precision that doesn’t exist in most other languages.

I’m a fan of evolution insofar as one can be a fan of a scientific reality. It sounds kind of stupid really. How many people are a fan of gravity? I’ll rephrase. I’m a fan of the theory of evolution, which explains evolution eloquently through precision of language. What I am not a fan of is devolution, the homogenization of thought and the homeopathic distillation of words to the point where they become meaningless. Equating misogyny with sexism is a fucking travesty and undermines no cause greater than that of feminism.

Before everyone gets their depend in a twist that a man dared to mention the ‘F’ word, let’s have a think about what we’re trying to achieve. Are we striving of a truly egalitarian society or are we looking to germinate some fuckwitted gender war? I don’t really care either way. I’m a middle-aged white guy who pulls a healthy six-figure income. If I’m the enemy then knock yourselves the fuck out. Nobody I know is lifting a finger to stop you.

What I’m talking about is the abuse of language. Misogyny is shooting a girl for wanting to be educated. It is spitting on an eight year old for dressing like a ‘slut’. It is ‘honour’ killings by fathers that hate their daughters for not being as stupid as they are. It is killing babies because a girl isn’t worth as much as a boy. It is throwing acid in the face of a woman who rejected the advances of a human-shaped turd. It is bombing an abortion clinic. It is denying condoms to women most likely to be infected with HIV. It is hatred of women.

I have many words to describe how loathsome Tony Abbott or Alan Jones is. They are beneath contempt. They are sexist sacks of shit. The public record speaks for itself. They are not misogynists. They’re just idiots. Classing them with true misogynists is offensive to those that have genuinely suffered. It’s saying the person who threw acid in a woman’s face is no worse than Tony Abbott. That’s wrong.

Misusing words damages one’s ability to utilize language for good. I feel embarrassed for you who seek to debase our shared vocabulary through repetition and misuse. Get the fuck out of my language and take your fight up using semaphore or Kermit arms. If all else fails put a fucking #hashtag on it. Just get off my lawn.

Letter to my local MP, Mr Tony Burke.

Dear Mr Burke,


I am writing in frustration and desperation regarding the plight of my friend Austin Mackell. Austin is a freelance journalist who has been covering the uprising in Egypt. He is facing 5-7 years in prison for doing his job. The Egyptian authorities have charged him with bribing people to strike, which is patently false, and simply disproved. He is a freelance journalist. He has no money.


I’m asking you, no, begging you to speak with our new Minister for Foreign Affairs, Mr Carr, and get him to intervene on Austin’s behalf. I also ask for you to push for the resettlement of Aliya Alwi, who faces the same sentence for acting as his translator.


Please lend your voice to this issue. It’s wrong for us to leave fellow Australians at the mercy of military regimes. It is wrong for us to allow anyone to be at the mercy of said regimes. Like Bahrain, but that’s a discussion for another time. Please, please help.


Kind regards,


Heath Callaway

Never mind the Baracks – Here’s the flaccid media

Don’t we just love a good pageant, swingers? It doesn’t matter who or what it involves. It could be a visiting retinue from house Kardashian, the Queen, or any one of a multitude of the irrelevant privileged. Provided we get to line the streets and turn out some pomp, we’re happy little campers. For a country barely older than Colonel Sanders, we sure do love our ceremonies.

One would struggle to feign surprise, then, at the collective obsequiousness with which we greeted the OMG POTUS when he deigned to stop over for a few hours on our fair shores on his way to somewhere more interesting. We have a history of sycophancy. ‘All the way with LBJ’ wasn’t just a slogan, it was a personal directive to sitting members.

So I expected what we got in many ways. The tearful ecstasy of schoolchildren and backbenchers, the heartfelt rendition of ‘I loves you Porgy’ from Julia Gillard on the rusty trombone, Tony Abbott demonstrating that his brain is indistinguishable from colonic irrigation; no surprises to be had there.

What did surprise me was the utter testicular vacuum displayed by the press. Here was the chance for a serious journalist to make their mark by posing serious questions. What did we get? Nothing. From anyone. The coverage was so lacking in substance it was almost anti-matter. One could expect a certain level of ineptitude from some key players. Michelle Grattan managed to get the best day’s sleep in years. Laurie Oakes was undoubtedly sitting in his office, waiting for the president to make an appointment. Andrew Bolt & Alan Jones were detained by federal police at the border and were forced to sleep in their rig – they cuddled. Janet Albrechtsen was busy having rough sex with a stapler. Piers Akerman doesn’t know where he is and would like to be taken home in time for Upstairs Downstairs.

As for the rest? They should wither in Massola-esque shame.


So for the sake of every journalist who has wasted their parents’ money paying for their useless degree, I have a couple of questions for you to write down. You know? The ones you didn’t ask:

  1. Mr President: You have vocally supported the uprisings in Egypt and Libya now that those dictators no longer serve American interests. Why haven’t you given the same support to the people of Bahrain, who are fighting the same fight?
  2. Mr President: How can you lecture China on human rights while Guantanamo Bay is still operational – two years after you pledged to shut it down?
  3. Mr President: Will you seek to extradite Julian Assange and charge him in a military court? If so, will you also seek to extradite responsible parties from the Sydney Morning Herald, Guardian, and New York Times? If not, why not?
  4. Mr President: What exactly does our renewed free trade agreement curtail? Every previous agreement has shafted Australia completely. How is this different?


There you go kids. That should be enough to get you going, or at least cause you to reflect on your gutlessness. Do you wonder at all why people with real jobs think you’re crap?


8 Things I know About Teh Gheys

“A bigot” writes David van Gend, “is someone who refuses to see the other point of view.” A nice theory, but it’s unfortunately demonstrably false. Any sane person will refuse to concede that the world is hollow, that human activity is not affecting the climate, or that humans were spontaneously created from potting mix and spare ribs. The reason they would take this view is that in each instance there is overwhelming proof to the contrary – enough so that anyone who clings to these beliefs can be safely regarded as a window-licking moron.

Such is the calibre of argument presented against marriage equality. Like the issue of climate change, those clinging to their position do so through irrational faith, and continue to (ever more shrilly) parrot talking points that have long since been discredited completely. David van Gend has repackaged all of these same tired chestnuts in a fresh wrapping of confected concern. It’s old, it adds nothing, and I can’t be bothered revisiting the arguments that have proven him wrong, time and time again.

So instead I figure I’d enlighten the interwebs about a few apparently little known facts about same sex couples. This is obviously hitherto unheard of knowledge, so you are hereby sworn to secrecy under penalty of the Scissor Sisters, or similar forms of torture:

FACT #1: Homosexuals can’t have children by accident. Even with their drugs and their dancing and lattes, they have to make a conscious decision to breed. They are, in fact, hampered at every turn by adoption agencies and fertility clinics run by nice Christian organisations. This of course is at odds with the accepted wisdom that the community is built on the back of the Minto Mum, and the truism that the best way to locate a single woman in Woy Woy is to look for those pushing the prams. Teeth are a matter of personal preference. Apparently the sacred ‘family unit’ axiom is negotiable.

FACT #2: Homosexuals are statistically more likely to have tertiary education and high paying careers. They are more likely to be able to provide for a child in their care than the majority of parents. This is in no way proof alone that they are capable of being decent parents – one need only look to Alan Jones to see the flaw in that argument, but fortunately most aren’t self-loathing mouth breathers, so the danger is somewhat mitigated.

FACT #3: Homosexuals don’t hate people for being heterosexual. It’s true. Unfortunately the reverse does not always apply. And this, good folk, is the crux of the biscuit. The main thrust of the argument against marriage equality is the hatred of the ignorant directed toward those who do not wish them harm. Those that rail against gay marriage through fear of it debasing their own union are losers who lose. People so insecure about their own marriage don’t deserve to be in one. They probably don’t deserve soap or cutlery either, but I can’t do anything about that for now.

FACT #4: Ted Lapkin is an idiot. Not only is he an idiot, he’s a multifaceted idiot. He manages to be wrong about everything all at once. Quite a feat when you think about it. Even Andrew Bolt occasionally manages to be right due to the law of probability. For Lapkin to be so consistently wrong he must put in a monumental, unwavering effort – the sort of dedication that wilfully bypasses the tap when thirsty in order to drink from the toilet. Commendable if you go for that sort of thing.

FACT #5: Homosexuals are good at love. Perhaps because they’ve been told most (if not all) of their lives that they are incapable of true, ‘beat your wife’ kind of intimacy, they seem to work harder at loving. This is of course very bad for children. Children are allergic to love, and have been known to break out in Pell rash from overexposure. There’s a phrase in the church for the love of children. It’s called ‘Relocation to South America’. It’s not exactly the same sort of love we’re talking about, but they can’t really tell the difference.

Which brings us to FACT #6: Homosexuality isn’t paedophilia. It isn’t bestiality or incest. It is homosexuality. That some people can’t tell the difference says much more about them than it does about anyone else with a passing understanding of English, psychology, or common bloody sense. Homosexuals don’t rape your dog. I can’t speak for all News Limited bloggers on that one.


FACT #8 Some people are paid by interfering tosspots to speak up about issues they have no understanding of – simply because they have a fan base that struggles with the concept of a spoon.

I leave it to others to draw their own conclusions regarding David van Geld’s tiny mew in the dark. Did he add anything at all to what should be a non-debate, or did he just cry into his weet-bix like another whiney nobody? I’d say history will decide, but a week from now Davey will just be another forgotten stain on the wall. The rest of us are playing well past this sort of nonsense.


Disclaimer: I am heterosexual. I have poor dress sense.