November 14th, 2022Kyle’s Rant
WITH Halloween done and dusted for the year, the wigs, hats, and
assortment of “scary” things have been popped into landfill to be
marvelled at by the apes that take over the world in 200 years.
And now the supermarkets are turning our attention to Christmas, and the beat
goes on.
I did have a crack at Halloween when I was a kid in New Zealand, however it sort
of disappeared and came back around 10 years ago. I think it had something to do
with the show Modern Family who were completely bonkers for the Pagan religious
celebration which, BTW, was designed to welcome the harvest at the end of summer.
Once again, the folks from the antipodes steel another northern hemisphere
celebration, put our own spin on it, take out the boring religious bits and overindulge
the kids.
I never received any visitors on the scariest of scary nights here at TL HQ,
obviously my sparkling personality wasn’t enough to attract the little buggers, cap in
hand, hunting for sugar hits. I had the gates firmly locked, and the full set of security
cameras on as I waited inside, determined not to be blackmailed into giving out
sweets. Besides if they had managed to get through my fortifications the best I could
muster was a sneaky little chardonnay, a spot of port or a Schmacko.
But back to the task at hand or at least six weeks away, when even the most aloof
of us (and I must admit that aloof is certainly the label I fall under if I could be
bothered labelling things) eventually bow to the human pressure of the one day of the
year that is responsible for the biggest amount of landfill of the year.
The majority of adults surround themselves with stuff they need to make them
comfortable and the rest is obsolete, so instead of wracking your brain to see what
your 100-year-old great Aunt Matilda could do with, if the occasion is that important
to you maybe ask the woman living in her car with a couple of kids what she would
want?
I am sure the answer would be a roof over their heads and some basic food and
necessities, maybe that’s what we should be teaching our overindulged youth.
I thought that the pandemic would teach us lessons in life, but from my
observations by and large we have gone back to doing what we did, without change.
Caught up in the consuming treadmill cycle of festivities, lurching from one
commercial occasion to the next.
Speaking of commercial, I had the opportunity to see a large advert for The Rex
in The Age a couple of weekends back. I called with a query but despite being on hold
for some time and then being put through to someone, they just took my number
and never called back.
Perhaps they Googled my name and thought I was just a tyre kicker. From
memory I think I was actually calling on behalf of The Local with a couple of media
questions. Like the price and the level of interest from buyers so far. The editor
mistakes me for a journo and makes me do stuff like that now and again.
Anyway, there is a great video about the place if you are keen. Head to the web
and realestate.com – just search Fitzroys, commercial and Daylesford. I guess someone
will buy it eventually. I mean, we, the ratepayers, did.
Urghh rant over…
Ed’s note: We did get some lollies in one Halloween while living in Frankston, but
not a single child turned up. Kyle eventually caved and said: “I’m heading to the local
shops to hand them out to the kids.” I replied I would see him in gaol. Really?
