A Land of Flooding Rains

Australia, the land I call home, is currently experiencing flooding on a natural disaster scale. The clean-up bill is going to be immense. All misanthropic glee at the statistical likelihood that several thousand copies of Stephanie Meyers' back catalogue were made even more unreadable as they washed down the flooded streets does take a back step to genuine sorrow and concern for people who have lost family, friends and homes. However, there is something about nationalism at a time like this which makes me wonder anew about the correlation between flag capes and desperately low IQ scores.

News.com.au is, as always, a shining beacon for the intellectually challenged. Stories about the situation in Brazil, where the floods have been coupled with mudslides and a significantly higher loss of life, are without fail followed by reader comments almost all of which bearing some form of disclaimer that the commenter is obviously more concerned about the tragedy in Queensland, but wow, that's a lot of dead people for another country, as though simply recognising the scale of disaster in Brazil without first reassuring fellow bogans of an awareness of Queensland is somehow treasonous. The sentiment 'thank goodness we're not as destroyed as Brazil!' has to be one of the uglier expressions of bogan worldliness meeting nationalism.

But the bogan is not the only group which seeks to gain some advantage from the rhetoric of compassion following a flood, and we are seeing in droves groups desirous of linking their cause to the natural disaster which is taking up all of our news time. Senior journalists up to their knees in water have eyes glowing with avarice for the Walkleys they hope to scoop up out of this mess.

The worst reporting is, as is reasonably to be expected, coming from the commercial channels, with one Channel 9 reporter making a story out of letting an isolated old man cut off by floods use the station's helicopter to visit family who thought he was dead. The station somehow managed to reach crass new heights of self-promotion - cameras rolling, asking the man how he would like to visit his family and announcing the set-up like he'd won some kind of gameshow, rather than nearly died in a natural disaster. He was frail and shaking as he struggled with a barrage of questions designed to hype the maximum drama from the moment. Then, family reunited, lots of tears and hugging, and a big Channel 9 boom mic right behind their heads, catching the emotional tragedy porn for the nightly news crowd. Crass, mishandled, and taking advantage of the vulnerable, but then, almost every channel is doing it - asking people fishing their lives out of the mud that now cakes their living rooms what it feels like to lose everything, and keeping the cameras rolling for every tear. So often, the arm of the reporter snakes around a shoulder and they murmur words which are presumably meant to be comforting. But this is not journalism, not really. We can hear these people's stories, which are tragic, without needing to question them until they cry and then film it.

But the media, for all they are a soft target, especially when engaged in this style of reporting, have done reasonably well in keeping a steady flow of relatively reliable information coming out of Queensland. This is what ABC News 24 was, in many respects, made for. While there are some who deserve to be beaten over the head with a boom microphone until they learn some human decency, others have drawn the line with more sensitivity. Our politicians, too, are caught in the social expectation that they somehow need an appearance in the disaster zone. This, to me, is somewhat counter-productive. In the event of my being caught up in catastrophic floods, I want my politicians to ensure the state endures sufficiently to keep emergency personnel working at their best. I want announcements of government relief aid, assistance with official documentation, and pressure on the private sector to show some compassion for the duration of the emergency. I don't much care if they do or do not cry on television, what they wear, or even if they're in the same general location. Credit is due here to Foreign Minister Kevin Rudd, who waded out into his electorate to provide genuine assistance to constituents and helping others to evacuate, and didn't stop to do a piece-to-camera about it. The counter-example to that is Julie Bishop, acting Opposition Leader, who wanted to make sure the nation knew that she had helped make ham sandwiches at a refuge hours earlier, thus nullifying the act of any substantial altruism. Still, I guess a ham sandwich is a ham sandwich, whether or not the person who made it for you did it to score political kudos or because they genuinely wanted to help you.

Once we get past looters, scammers, Bing Lee and the various other scarcely evolved creatures that scurry out in the aftermath of any tragedy, I have to concede that the media and politicians, despite their foibles and some pretty disgusting attempts to profit from human misery, are still trumped by Australia's answer to Westboro Baptist Church, Catch the Fire Ministries, who like to issue press releases placing their own spin on natural disasters. Victoria's disastrous bushfires in 2008 led to outlandish claims by Pastor Danny Nalliah that the fires were the wrath of God for decriminalising abortion. This media strategy having apparently worked so well for them in the past, the church has claimed that the floods are caused by a fairly standard diplomatic remark from Foreign Minister Rudd regarding Israel's responsibility to allow its nuclear facilities to be inspected by the UN. God is apparently in favour of the rampant misuse of nuclear weaponry in the Middle East, who knew? As PZ Myers adroitly put it, it's a poorly targeted and somewhat opaque sign from God that takes out half a state but doesn't even back up the sewerage of the person you're apparently cranky with.

Accordingly, the very first C is for Curmudgeon 'I'd Smote That' Award for being such a despicable member of humanity that the aggregate quality of the human race would be so improved by your absence that, if global hegemony and god-like metaphysical powers were mine, I'd have you followed by electrical storms until you look like something the Colonel would serve up, goes to Catch the Fire Ministries for the attempt to use natural disaster to manipulate foreign policy, with the quiet implication that they are metaphysical terrorists, happy to call in another drenching flood or scorching flame if it gets their legislative agenda up. Congratulations!

False Starts and New Beginnings

Awake too early after a night heavy with gin, and sitting in my bicycle pajamas willing the world to stop spinning. This seems as good a time as any to try to win at the internet, the prize being an amusingly named blogger account which suitably reflects my general curmudgeonly streak.

The human race being a font of unoriginal ideas, all interesting variations on Youngcurmudgeon are taken, as are all the variations on Miss/Ms Misanthropy. I find myself forced to look at the C word as being one with rather more than the usual four letters. Having secured this, I am resigning myself not to be one of those bloggers who will be liked and adored for their pretty pictures of baked goods or charming and heartwarming tales of human endurance/romance/personal fashion. I am ready, in the style of Machiavelli's prince, to be feared (albeit with a healthy sense of irony).

So who am I, and what am I doing here? I am a twenty-something student, rapidly approaching an age at which my sequesterment in various institutions of higher education is somewhat unseemly. Having extended a gen-Y adolescence roughly as far as is plausible with various forms of academic pursuit, I feel my deep cynicism for the future of the human race is quite definitely supported by the evidence. For example, some of you read. This is an excellent start, however tempered by the fact that in large numbers your choice of reading materials tend towards celebrity endorsed cookbooks, mediocre crime fiction, columns by racist and fear-mongering hacks like Andrew Bolt, Twilight and pick-up artist manuals.

If you sometimes think the human race is doomed because the stupid people won't stop breeding, and your response to this is bemused exasperation and not some kind of alarming eugenics program, welcome. Please enjoy this brief collection of surly rants, and feel free to leave me some comments quantifying my elitist wanker quotient and letting me know what else you think. In return, I'll try to work on the TL; DR and do my best to turn my impotent rage into something which might bring you some entertainment.