Radio gaga, Epsom and drugs
Diary of the last, oh, 9 hours?
6.13 am
Lying in the dark, two things that do not cross my mind are: will the NZX be held to ransom for bitcoin today and what does Epsom mean, really?
8.13am
Whatever I might come up with in the way of a snappy political aphorism today I will not do better than Lew.
8.15am
A reminder about what can go wrong when you send your terrorists back home to the people who raised them.
The full story of how two Rainbow Warrior bombers got transferred to French territory and within a couple of years were back home enjoying croissants in Paris, is here.
Not saying the Australians would do anything like that, but not entirely sure how well they might do at keeping him from being a malign influence on people in his orbit.
8.32am
High quality journalist calls out high velocity media bullshittery.
Everything Marc Daalder reports about Covid-19 is informed, considered, and the product of assiduous investigation.
If you prefer your news to have none of that, Ryan Bridge has a radio show you can listen to, particularly if you’re driving a loaner car from the panel beater and you’re stuck on radio AM band.
Bear in mind, though, his show follows a full morning of a guy quoting conspiracy theories and climate denialism and an afternoon of a guy who practices verbal thuggery then says in an innocent tone: “just saying” , so it's quite a slog and you might want to pace yourself .
Disclaimer: they may tell you this is sour grapes, because I used to work there and don't any more. You’ll just have to make up your own mind whether:
a) it's my honestly held belief that climate skepticism and thuggishness and misrepresentation by a host who can't be arsed doing the work is something I don't much rate;
or
b) I have some yearning to go back and work for an outfit run by an outdoor billboard company.
8.46am
On Twitter, Deane asks Foxy:
I’m not from Auckland so I don’t know anything about Epsom so can anybody who is from Auckland and knows anything about Epsom tell me, what is it with Epsom?
That’s a blog all of its own, but I will pop on to the end of this a slice of Epsom life in 2011 that I wrote for Metro, a tender portrait of Paul Goldsmith enacting his part in the gentle gavotte that is National and ACT seducing voters into performing Un-National acts.
Can also offer the anecdotal data that almost anyone who lives there can tell you about an issue they had and how David Seymour did a great job handling it for them. He's a worker for his constituents, this cannot be denied.
9.02am
On phone to the daughter who is getting ready to host her last Wire show on BFM. Has just interviewed Drug Foundation’s Ross Bell, who’s also moving on.
She’s glad to be having one last interview with him. She was grateful to guests like him, like Andrew Little: experienced, kind people, generous with their time and thoughts, helping out a young broadcaster.
10.39 am
Some bastard is being not good to the NZX and is trying to take down with a DDoS attack. Lyndon Hood tweets: NZ ex?
11.48 am
RNZ’s Sarah Robson is doing good. She’s polled her Facebook readership for testimony about losing their jobs in the second round of lockdown and someone tells her their workplace is still operating, but they say they're not seeing any reduction in revenue so they can't claim the subsidy for her.
Sarah: they should be able to apply for the leave scheme for you... Feel free to msg me! (the changed rules mean a business doesn't need to show negative impact or revenue loss for the leave scheme)
I once made cheese scones for her. I’d make her some more.
11.49am
Bringing my A Game for the segue today, eh.
Also, please click cheese scone.
12.12 pm
Daughter is on air with Ross Bell talking about the cannabis referendum, and he’s a bit disappointed about the misperceptions besetting the debate.
People hear the word legalisation and they get this idea of a free for all.
He says when people learn that actually the proposed regime would be stricter than the rules for alcohol, that tends to make them a lot more at ease with it.
That’s good, you guess, but has the Government done a less than marvellous job of making it understood? Some answers to that question in the podcast.
2.15pm
A correspondent from the land of Devonport, where the road in or out causes people to completely lose their mind, messages councillor Chris Darby to say they've had a Damascene conversion.
A part of me, the bit that can hold a grudge for seven hours and fifteen years, is a little sour, thinking of all the vituperation you get for this stuff.
But I need to get over that. The happy news is that a lower-carbon life actually holds out the promise of being a happier one for us all. I’ll just keep banging the drum.
If you design a city for cars, it fails for everyone, including drivers. If you design a multi-modal city, it works better for everyone, including drivers.
4.00pm four election campaigns ago
To Sir With Love
Metro July 2011
Even though we're rival candidates, we make no secret of our warm collegial relationship.
Just as we did when we were writing his biography, I still affectionately call him Sir and he still calls me Mr Goldsmith. They were good times. I'd be on on all fours in the Great Room writing in longhand. After hours of dictation he'd finally stop pacing the room, his bark would subdue to a yelp, he'd slump into his high leather chair and he would rest his tired feet on my back. As long as he wasn't wearing spurs we might stay in that position for hours.
We're going to all the same events so it just makes sense that we drive there together. He generously provides the Rolls. I only have to come up with the jodhpurs, cap, boots and gloves.
Big miles. Already we've witnessed the rich variety of the Epsom electorate, from the affluent splendour of St Stephen's Ave to the abject poverty of Mt Eden Road. Great fun. Last weekend we spent most of Saturday at the Food Show at Alexandra Park. Pressing the flesh. Getting out the message. You can be yourself in the one-to-ones. As per usual my line is "vote for him", and his is "vote for me".
Tiring work though. By the time I got away from a guy going on about Vanilla Buffalo Yoghurt, my face was feeling wooden. Got outside, and there was Sir, eating a sausage from the school BBQ fundraiser. Still full of energy, he playfully pulled out my shirttails and wiped the tomato sauce off his hands. Make no mistake, he's still got it!
Go to Grammar. Sir addresses the assembly last. Congratulates them for ditching NCEA and encourages them to bring back caning. Tears up a little as he starts reminiscing about the way things were before we got all PC. Offers a demonstration and before I know where we are, I'm down on all fours again taking a thrashing and crying out Thank You Sir May I Have Another. Boys are well behaved but I can tell by the way they're squirming they're dying to applaud.
On Wednesdays we pick out a car yard and stand outside with our rosettes. We go mid-morning to catch the school mums after coffee bringing in their Porsche Cayennes and Audi 4WDs for service. Sir is in his element, and he's relentlessly on message. Says to every one of them "ACT stands for the dignity of the individual." I'm not really a car guy, though. He has to keep reminding me to click my heels and salute when a black one drives in.
Always a bit tougher when we visit the poor side of town where people clean their own cars. We'll chat and offer to help. Yesterday on Prospect Tce he made a point of playfully ducking me in the bucket and cleaning their windscreen with my hair.
Each time he'd wink at me as we walked on and say "It really is true what they say Mr Goldsmith: what doesn't kill you makes you stranger."
Enjoying your blog !