Coomera. Sunday, 1.20pm
I’m behind a Nissan Navara with the biggest tyres I’ve seen on a vehicle outside of an open-cut coal mine.
Those tyres, combined with a three-litre motor, could mount a sleeping sand dune or penetrate a virgin rainforest at speed, no worries. And have Kelly Clarkson pumping loud from the 9.3GB music hard-drive at the same time.
But here, the silver fantasy vehicle is dragging its rubber feet along sedate bitumen in first gear, stuck with other gleaming dream machines in a frustrating nightmare of slow – like you’ve never seen in a television ad. That’s because there’re only four lanes of highway here and there are roadworks in progress to expand it to six, then eight, then…
Spending millions on constantly expanding the highway as if private transport fuelled by fossil fuels is the way of the future is so dumb, so irresponsible, so heartlessly inhuman, it surely must be a government plan.
Oh-oh. I’m being cynical. Again.
It’s not a good look to be cynical all the time. It’s unattractive to women.
A beautiful woman told me the other night after a few glasses of Côtes du Rhône that I was cynical and negative. Cynical and negative. Can you believe that? Jeez. Have you ever tried to be cynical and positive?
But I know I have to change. I don’t want to be disliked by women. So, no more cynicism from me. From now on it’s Mr Positive. Let’s get started:
It’s such a perfect day.
Yes, it makes sense to have corporations run the country. No more pretending. Society is so old school; economy is the new black.
Big business provides jobs and government. Okay, sometimes when a business is not making the huge profit it wants, or is making a huge profit, it may have to resize its workforce, but otherwise there’s a heap of short- to shorter-term jobs provided by business. And play your investments right, you’ll get a gig in government.
It’s such a perfect day. Feed animals in the zoo.
There is no climate change.
That’s just negative talk from intellectual scientist types trying to politicise the perfectly normal burning of Australia. It’s an insult to real heroes – brave people desperately trying to save their families. Oh, not refugees, of course. They’re not heroes. They’re poor people, which are illegal in this country. Go home to Poorland, you… you… poor people.
The science is not in on climate change. There’s that bloke who’s a knight or a king or a lord or something who worked for those tobacco companies and went to a place near a uni for a week – well, he and Jonesy reckon that climate change is an invention by left-wing, anarchist, greenie community types who are on drugs, listen to the ABC and don’t put their hand on their heart when the anthem is played at the footy.
But it’s a perfect day, because with the carbon tax gone our power bills will completely disappear, all diseases will vanish, and we’ll all have great sex.
Yeah. Just a perfect day. Problems all left alone.
A big bloke on a Harley-Davidson rumbles between the two lanes of traffic, passing the idling Navara and cruising towards the bulldozed horizon. That’s illegal. But the bikie doesn’t seem to care.
Sure, we may have religious organisations with impressive paedophilic histories still running schools, cowboy corporations putting our aquifers at risk, and the slowpokes of human evolution in government, but it’s blokes on bikes that are the real problem in our perfect world.
So I’m glad they’re no longer allowed to run a tattoo shop. That’ll fix that.
See? I’m Mr Positive. It’s a perfect day.
Sangria in the park, anyone?