Discipline

How do you discipline a cat?

I mean, really.

Spraying water in his face isn’t doing a lot to stop boycat being a jerk to girlcat.

Once, when he was very naughty and made himself at home in my next door neighbour’s house, I didn’t speak to him for an hour. I felt abandoned by him. He was my little loveface, who adored me, and now he had gone to bask in the loveglow of someone else.

“Never enough. I am just never enough for anyone!”

… that’s when I realised I had rather larger mental issues than I had previously suspected. Also when I realised I had completely stopped thinking of them as cats.

I’m not great with discipline. My little brother is ten years younger than me, and very rarely did the word “no” escape my lips when he asked for something. In fact, it seems that whatever he wanted to do, I was there encouraging it.

It isn’t many big sisters who get banned from reading to their younger brother. In hindsight, while it was certainly fun, it may not have been in his best interests for me to read Harry Potter as though I had Tourettes.

At 21 years of age, I can’t see any signs that it has harmed him, but I also can’t stop calling Professor Lockhart “Professor Cockfart”, either.

As for my cats, I think it’s me that needs the discipline.

I need to start remembering that they aren’t human. I don’t, as previously suspected, need to spell words to prevent them getting excited over things they can’t have, nor do I need to sit them down and explain why they’re not allowed to lay in my garden, squashing my newborn sunflower plants.

Most of all, I can probably stop mocking their meows when they’re talking to me after their fights.

The phrase “I don’t care who started it, you don’t bite each other and shove your bums in each other’s faces!” should probably be reserved for human children and the way things are going, Australian politicians.

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Mourning the loss of my nation’s dignity. Also: this blog is now a legitimate news source.

Well.

Don’t I feel like the parent whose kid just threw a giant tantrum because someone told them their well-functioning shiny toy was a piece of shit? And I feel bad, because I’m not just ashamed of my kid’s tantrum, I’m ashamed of my kid for being such a dumbass that it can’t even see how good this toy actually is.

Australian Media, I am golf clapping the fuck out of you right now. You won. You 1984’d the shit out of people who are too busy living their lives to spend the time required to sift through each and every news story – from each and every news source, in order to determine facts with which to make informed decisions.

I mean, clearly the Australian people can’t obtain facts from its media. Our media is, in essence, just a bunch of opinion blogs. Only the opinions aren’t those of the writers, but of the corporations and affiliated political parties that keep the blog.. I mean newspaper.. afloat.

When I was in High School, my English teacher gave me a 9.5/10 for an essay I wrote on Australia. She said she never gives out full marks because everyone can always improve, but my essay was so brilliant, she gave me as close to full marks as she could.

I felt like a cheat when I got those marks. I had written that essay in 20 minutes, and hadn’t even worked up a mental sweat to do so. That’s because the essay was about Australia. What I loved and treasured about this country.

I’d be really hard pressed to write that now. I just wouldn’t even bother. What I love about this country disappeared a long time ago, when the people of this country stopped fighting for the underdog and started whinging about being poor because they could only afford one plasma… When they wanted to get rid of a Prime Minister because of the way her voice sounds.

Meanwhile, if the citizens of this country were judged on such superficial matters, they’d all have been put down at the pound.

We are about to see some very dark days in this country, and all those people, those low to middle-income earners who, incredibly, believed that Tony “I am really Satan” Abbott was going to give them a lifestyle that included more income and less taxes, will very quickly realise just how easily they’ve been duped.

I won’t sit back and say “I told you so”. I will tell them to get angry.

My fellow citizens, the election is over, but this is where the work begins. In time, the I told you so moments will arrive, the curtain will fall, and the Great and Powerful Oz will show its true self. It can’t go any other way.

I’d like to be proud of this country again, if possible, so how about we all start demanding from our politicians what our employers demand of us? What about a job-trial period? What happens if they don’t meet their KPIs? What if they don’t use the bathroom code to log out of their phone when they leave their desk?

What makes us accept less of our politicians than is expected of us? We roll over and let our private corporate bosses ram the dildo of “company policy” up our arse on a daily basis – how about we hold our politicians to the same standard?

Our leaders should reflect the values that we of a nation hold to the highest importance. Right now, it appears that our values are: the continued persecution of the world’s most vulnerable people, the continued discrimination of homosexuals, women, and anyone who isn’t a mining/media magnate, and aspirations to have the world’s slowest internet, evar (which is basically like aspiring to get the wooden spoon in the footy tipping comp – clearly, you’re shit).

But it’s okay, because his daughters are pretty hot, and his party members have sex appeal.

Onya, Straya.