Monday 22 September 2014

Terror Doodles.


Hansen: "So how about it, Nash? You scared?"
Nash: "Terrified… mortified… petrified… stupefied… by you." (A Beautiful Mind)

Last week, Australian "police carried out dawn raids in Sydney and Brisbane which the country's prime minister, Tony Abbott, said were necessary to prevent imminent and random 'demonstration killings' by Islamic militants".

We didn't need to wait much to see our safety levels increase.

Oliver Buckworth, a Melbourne-based interior designer, last week "was removed from a Gold Coast-bound flight after a fellow passenger saw the contents of his notebook over his shoulder and informed Tiger [Airways] staff".

According to Fairfax Media and The Guardian (Australia), Buckworth's notebook contained terrifying doodles, explaining his fellow passengers' panic:
 "In a cartoon of a child clutching his head, Mr Buckworth wrote in a thought bubble: 'Tyrannosaurus Rex. Terodactyl. Tarantula. Terrorist'."
And the icing on the cake: "terrorismadeup".

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Now that we are scared witless, Daniel Hurst, writing for The Guardian (Australia) informs us that:
"Tony Abbott's approval rating rises after counter-terrorism raids
"Newspoll shows the prime minister's net satisfaction score is up eight points and the Coalition's primary vote is up two points" (See here)
PM Abbott has inexplicably seen a six-point increase in his personal approval rating, and the Coalition ("centre-right, conservative, libertarian") gained two points in the primary vote intention, while Labor lost one and the Greens lost three.

According to the Newspoll results, if elections were held today, the Coalition would have gotten 41% of the votes, Labor 34% and the Greens 11%.

I guess News Corp can report "mission accomplished".

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But, don't get me wrong: I'm every bit as patriotically terrified, mortified, and petrified as my fellow countrymen (although, apparently, not that stupefied). Who cares about real threats like the Abbott-Hockey budget, when the media can make up some bogeyman?

Now, with your permission, I need to go to the toilet. You know, to clean up the mess in my underwear after soiling myself.

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