Greece and the Cloud Cuckooland Theory of Economics!

This comic piece on the Greek Crisis was published on Independent Australia. on 10th July, 2015: Grand Sale. Country for Sale. Dirt Cheap. 

Grand Sale. Country for Sale. Dirt Cheap.

By Kerry Cue

Do you ever dream of becoming the dictator of a small European country, but you are too lazy to organise a military coup? Do you have a Hellinic face that looks noble in profile and would suit the newly minted coinage of a realm? Do you like Feta cheese, olives and Nana Mouskouri and have a grand passion for cats?

Then we have the perfect country for you. Greece lies in the idyllic Mediterranean just far enough from the central European banks to avoid excess rational economic thought. It will appeal to anyone who believes ‘everyone except me should pay more tax’ (a policy Australian political parties push during elections) and that the retirement age should be reduced to 14 years (This, of course, is another way to reduce youth unemployment and may be adopted by Aussie politicians in the near future, that or raising the legal school leaving age to 67).

Kerry Cue Dionysus and friends

You can own a little bit of paradise for not much more than you pay for a 2-story inner city home in Australia and Greece comes with many Heritage Listed buildings (often listing to the left, but there is scaffolding) and an ensuite with a toilet that flushes every 2nd Tuesday after the local plumber has downed 3 bottles of Retsina and turned up to unblock it.

Greece offers unparalleled panoramic views of glorious beaches, massed sun beds and jumbo-jet loads of fat, drunk UK tourists. Greek islands boast little fishing villages that are so idyllic your eyes water … Or that could be the sewerage again.

The Greeks are a law abiding people with a cousin in Melbourne, who abide by laws on a may or may not be bothered basis, but you can be guaranteed that you will not be run down by a motor scooter driven by a retired 14year old in your own lounge room. This guarantee may not apply to shopping malls or outdoor dining areas. The Greeks also have a great fondness for cement. But they are not like the Italians. There are no cement shoes. They just love cement in all its raw and unfinished glory.

The Greek people are stoic (they invented the word) and devoted to democracy (they invented that the word too). Some say their attitude to their economy is crazy. But they haven’t lost their marbles. Well, they have lost their marbles. They’re in the British Museum. (Subleasing potential there!) Others say, when it comes to their economy, the Greeks are in Cloud Cuckooland (Another word they invented with full credit for this economic theory going to Aristophanes.) Cloud Cuckooland is, however, a very popular economic theory at the moment, but it’s called Quantative Easing in America.

Greece. Buy now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to rule a realm, own an Acropolis and stage your very own Olympic Games for all the family. Hurry while stocks last. And for no extra cost you get an ancient home amphitheatre with dry stone walls, an as-new roofless Olympic size swimming pool and a holiday island for lesbians.

photo source: Elgin Marbles unsourced.

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My Comic In-Your-Face Feminist Manifesto for the Modern Young Woman

Annie Kerry Cue blog

I’ve written in the media, all types, for 30 years.

And in all this time, I’ve avoided what is quaintly called the F-bomb. But, OMG, I forgot to keep myself nice and wrote this article for The Independent Australia to king-hit the idea of niceness.

I also wanted to suggest to young women that they should be careful what they choose to care about.  

Tomatoes that taste like Italian Heaven, not flavourless mush

The streets we walk, the food we eat, the people we know and lives we lead become so familiar, so assumed, we hardly notice them at all. So I have travelled halfway across the world at great cost and inconvenience to bring home something vital for a writer namely a yardstick to measure our own culture.

I’m in Italy oohing and ahing over an extraordinary Italian icon, a thing of such beauty it wraps you in total sensory bliss. It is a tomato.

Kerry cue blog one tomato

There are lots of tomatoes in Italy and each one of them, it seems, is a culinary temptress. This red beauty isn’t the supermodel of tomland, all fiddled with, half-starved and fake. It is an earthy, fleshy, full-bodied and ripe tomato and it floods my mind with memories of tomatoes from my childhood. The taste is warm, rich and sweet. Its smell recalls my mother shredding the lettuce and whipping up some mayonnaise from, of all things, sweetened condensed milk, vinegar and mustard. But the women’s mag mayo couldn’t kill the taste of the tomatoes. They were real tomatoes.

Read Canberra Times article here: Pomodori by Kerry Cue

Photo source: josiesjuice blog

The Kinder Nativity Play when … a STAR … a king, a donkey or an angel … is born!

I wrote this when my daughter was in the kinder nativity play. And that was in 1993, over 20 years ago! But little has changed from the delightful yuletide chaos known as the kinder Nativity Play.

No Stephen Spielberg, Fred Schepsi or Peter Weir could bring to life a story bursting with the tinselled excitement or wide-eyed wonder of that choreographed chaos known as the Kinder Nativity Play. The job of feverish direction rests with an experienced kindergarten teacher. And the play has become a cherished Christmas tradition of cherubic grins and dimpled mayhem.

The first problem facing the director involves casting. Kinder kids can be very definite about the part they wish to play. They want a good line. And that line is often ‘Baa’.

Kinder Nativity Play

The kinder teacher is then left with the problem of putting on a nativity play with 25 sheep and no one else. After much begging, pleading and coaxing she can muster one sulking Joseph, a radiant freckled Mary -who is allowed to wear her patent leather shoes and a brides veil – and a donkey, if they can wear the donkey suit.

Full article from The Advertiser, The Herald Sun and The Canberra Times here: CHRISTMAS ACCORDING TO ST JASON

A bird? A plane? An Ozzie Mozzie Zapper!

My first book was published in 1983 so – add old timers accent – ‘I been ’round this here old place a long time’. The following event is one of the oddest experiences I had in the world of publishing. That is, if you don’t count, being ‘heckled’ by Barbar The Elephant at the Sydeny Writers’ Festival.

superboy     2You may think I’m merely a mild mannered reporter. But, dear reader, I have fought a ‘superhero’ battle. It all began years ago when I wrote a book for kids titled ‘How to save the world before breakfast’. Subtitle ‘A magazine for young superheroes’. To cut a long story super-short, D.C. Comics kindly explained to my little Aussie publisher that they owned the word ‘super heroes’ and we could, to cut through the legal jargon, bugger off.

I immediately imagined the D.C Comics legal team was comprised of escapees from Krypton who, having discovered a loophole in the this-planet-will-explode contract,  had escaped early in rockets and re-established themselves on the planet Legalon producing a race of Super Lawyers who were taking over our Solar System by suing the pants off every creature in the Universe.

Suffice to say, a barrister-type friend who, in his legal regalia in a high-wind did look quite Batmanish, pointed out that D. C. Comics were right. They owned the words ‘super heroes’. It was not a copyright matter. It’s a trademark!!!! So my publisher pulped the first book cover and I changed the subtitle to ‘The hilarious first addition of the Superkids Magazine’. And so the book, which gave advice on ‘How to select the right cape for you’ and ‘How to keep your hair neat in a cyclone’, was eventually published.

Read Full article published Herald Sun 14 JUL 2004 also The Advertiser (SA): A bird. A plane. An Ozzie mozzie zapper

ANZAC DAY 2014

Michael O'Donnell  20th Rein 14th Batt, 1916

Michael O’Donnell
20th Rein 14th Batt, 1916

My Great Uncle MIchael O’Donnell was killed at Bullecourt, France in 1917. This is the story about a young man who was Court Martialed 3 times, held with enemy prisoners and  finally allowed to go to war following a Senate Inquiry.

It is also a story about duty, loyalty and honour and how much we Aussies have changed today.

…………………………………………………

Michael O'Donnell  Postcard 1911 Remembering 1910 March Melbourne to Bendigo

Michael O’Donnell
Postcard 1911
Remembering 1910 March Melbourne to Bendigo

The sound that distinguishes Anzac Day from others is the bugle call. The solitary call of the Last Post reverberates down the generations as a mournful cry for the loss of war.

In the First World War it was the loss of so many young lives and for what? A toehold on some peninsula, a futile charge into no man’s land? The loss swept into every Australian household. Mothers lost their sons.

Young women lost brothers, boyfriends, lovers, husbands. And for fathers, adding to the pain of loss, was the bitter aftertaste of guilt summarised so succinctly by Rudyard Kipling, who lost his own son in that war:

………………………………………………………………………

“If any question why we died/Tell them, because our fathers lied.”

Yet the generation of Australians who served in the First World War had qualities we no longer possess and this is our loss.

Read Full Article here: Echo of the Bugle

Read Edited article published in the herald Sun Anzac Day, 25th April, 2007: Echo of the Bugle

It’s a Long Way to the Top when You’re Getting Old

Rolling Stones Daily Mail UKWith the Rolling Stones recently cancelling their Australian Tour, I was reminded of an article I wrote in 2002 about aging rock stars.

Of course, old rockers should keep on rockin’. Mick Jagger won’t be taking up making bedtrays with matchsticks anytime soon. But Bob Dylan, for instance, can’t go on singing ‘Knock knock knockin’ on Heavens Door’ when half the audience is worried that God may answer. So I rewrote some songs for old rockers with age appropriate lyrics:

Walking the Dog

Rewritten for The Rolling Stones

Granny back

Dressed in black

Silver hair all down her back

Thick hose, bunion toes

She got the pension and she can go

 

Walking the dog

I’m just a walking the dog

Retirees have time to do it

They’ll show you how to walk the dog

C’mon now C’mon

Snowblind

Rewritten for Ozzy Osborne of Black Sabbath

What you get and what you see

Um..dah..dah..dah…is it me?

Um..dah..dah..um…in vein

Dah..dah..um..dah..dah something. Cocaine?

(What was again it Sharon?)

Published Herald Sun (Groupies! When your 64?) 3 August 2002, The Advertiser (SA). Read full article:It’s a Long Way to the Top when You’re Getting Old