Uluru

THE best thing about the mooted ban on climbing Uluru is that it gives slightly overweight, middle-aged white people who enjoy the occasional cigarette the perfect vehicle to forgo taxing exercise on the pretence of respect for indigenous heritage.

The worst thing about it is that it seems to be a bit of pre-ordained, politically correct posturing that will add to the nation’s ever-expanding collection of hollow symbolic gestures that do nothing to increase white Australia’s respect for, or understanding of, our Aboriginal history, and may actually work against it.

I have never climbed the rock and probably wouldn’t _ not just because I’m kind of lazy and would rather do the bus tour, sit down in front of the rock for a while, and get back for beers at sunset at the Yulara resort _ but also because it clearly distresses some Aboriginal people. It just seems kind of rude.

Continue reading "Banning the Rock climb a nice, futile gesture" »

I once fulfilled my sole annual Mass attendance at Notre Dame in Paris, which is a pretty good place for bad Catholics to pretend they are actually quite holy for an hour.

Settled into my spot on the pew I started practicing my “mmmm, I understand” face, in preparation for a service entirely in French, from which I was sure to catch about three words.

Then in swarmed the busload from Malibu, with their large bottoms snuggly encased in khaki shorts, his-and-hers T-shirts, and enough happy snappy cameras to document a World War.

Continue reading "Stand up Peter Garrett, we shouldn’t climb Uluru" »