Dusky Dolls

IT SEEMS THE problem with the world is that there are just too many black and brown babies in it:

If some think tank on the right had funded that ad, the howls of "racism" would be deafening.

Family Values II

ONE PARTICULARLY interesting and timely present, a gift of happenstance via the secondhand bookshelf at a Colac op shop, was a copy of esteemed foreign correspondent Paul McGeough’s Kill Khalid. The book is what you would expect from the man an impoverished Fairfax has not yet found the courage to send on his way, unlike all the other reporters, editors and gender equity officers it has let go for want of profits. It is, give him this, well written and nicely paced, although the pretence of even-handedness does not survive scrutiny for long. Israel spies may indeed be a bunch of inept, poison-squirting Keystone Koshers, but being reminded so often of the author’s perspective on their ham-fisted machinations does tend to create a very strong suspicion of authorial bias. Hamas fares somewhat better, aided in no small measure by McGeough’s habit of not making too much of a ratbag cult’s habit of sending bomb-laden adolescents into pizza parlours, bar mitzvah parties and the like.

It is not, however, McGeough’s blind eye that makes the book worthwhile. No, that would be the acknowledgements, in which the following passage appears:

"This writing business is unforgiving terrain, so a forgiving wife is a godsend. Pam Williams was patient, caring, and inspiring, even in the face of truculence. She generously does her own informal PhD on whatever the current assignment is. Kill Khalid could not have seen the light of day without her multi-skilling – dear wife, loyal friend, incisive colleague, and sound editor."

The “dear wife and loyal friend”, the AFR’s Pam Williams, did not last long after Kill Khalid came out, soon replaced by Palestinian activist Nadia Itraish, and in the most romantic circumstances.

Now it is not this blog’s purpose to adjudicate on the amorous affairs of others. Life is long, the heart fickle and many have left a spouse or two along the way, not to mention the odd web pioneer after a particularly festive post-budget lock-up party in swinging Canberra. That said, the informed reader cannot help thinking that Ms Itraish and the correspondent’s new father-in-law, scarred by the Zionist jackboot in Ramallah,  might colour his perceptions just a little bit.

Indeed, McGeough’s latest contribution to Fairfax’s mostimpecunious publication, the ever-shrinking Sun-Herald, rather suggests the need for a little biographical line at its conclusion. Something like this would do nicely, just to let readers know they are enjoying the handiwork of a partisan.

“Paul McGeough has married into the Palestinian cause. We continue to publish his dispatches because, quite frankly, there are no standards of fairness or disclosure Fairfax has not violated.”

Yes, a few lines of type would involve a typesetting expense Fairfax can ill afford at the moment.

But Gina and Singo will fix that – and, if they have any sense, a few other things besides.

UPDATE:  In July, the latest Mrs McGeough had the following letter published in the Washington Post:

Story about Iranian help is buried 

On Jan. 7, you carried a Page One article to announce the U.S. Navy’s rescue of an Iranian fishing boat in distress in the Persian Gulf [" U.S. rescues Iranian ship from pirates "]. On May 24, you buried a story about the Iranian navy rescuing a U.S. -flagged cargo ship in the Persian Gulf as a brief in the foreign news digest section ["Iranian navy assists American ship in pirate attack"]. The double standard is breathtaking.  Nadia Itraish , McLean

Clean up the ABC

WE ALL know the ABC is a cesspit of bias, and now some public-spirited folks are doing something about it.

Family Values

WHEN Christmas comes around one naturally thinks of families, more particularly what to buy them and how to put up with them. It’s a mug’s game, as every ounce of inspiration put toward the perfect gift will sure as eggs be answered with a present you did not want but over which you will feel obliged to emit squeals of delight. Socks and underpants are at least useful on formal occasions; the Collected Works of Noam Chomsky never. But one must smile all the same, because this is Christmas, hand over the keys to the cellar and feign delight as people who cannot tell if a vintage has turned to vinegar chuck down the good stuff and eat you out of house and home.

Ah, how sad it is! If only the Professor was a good leftist – like The Global Mail’s millionaire supremo Graeme Wood, for example – things would be so much more simple.

When the festive season began, the Wotif entrepreneur solved all his Yule dilemmas and Christmas catering quandaries by handing out lots and lots of discharge notices – think pink slips, not medical diagnoses -- to his staffers, those quality journalists who have made his site everything that it is and the $15 million in start-up cash so much smaller.

But family values were not forgotten. Amongst the few not pushed out the door was South American correspondent Nick Olle.

No doubt it is no more than a coincidence, but young Mr Olle is Graeme Wood’s stepson.

 

No doubt it is no more than a coincidence, but young Mr Olle is Graeme Wood’s stepson.

Back

IT WAS very rude to slip away without bidding one and all a merry Christmas, but there are times when the blog essence runs dry and this was one of them. Back now -- although there will be a few interruptions to the flow over the next few months. It is summer, after all, and some pleasures take precedence over the joy of fulmination. Not many, mind you, but a few.

Ssssshhh! Better That We Don't Know

FOR some reason the judge in this case has suppressed the names of the parents charged with the genital mutilation of their daughter.

What a silly judge!

Everyone knows the father's name will be Mohamad or some variant thereof, and the wife's does not matter. Other than holding down a young girl and forcing upon her the sentence of life in a mobile tent, she will have been raised to see herself as being of no greater use to the world than a kitchen utensil and welfare-cheque incubator.

Multiculturalism's gorgeous mosaic, those red tiles are sometimes women's blood.

UPDATE: Several commenters note that the parents' names have most likely been suppressed in order to protect the child. Bit late for that, isn't it?

Snap Crotch

WHAT they get up to in Northcote when the sun goes down.

(h/t Tony the Teacher)