#to fund my next godzilla figure

[girlygo2]

I have a Ko-fi now!

If you like what I do, feel free to leave a tip!

Yes this is the REAL and AUTHENTIC Gg2. I'll have like, perks to supporting at... some point in the future, but for now it's just Tips.

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (January 29-February 4, 2023)

This week was dense with news, but the biggest was Kadokawa's teaser for GAMERA -Rebirth-, now revealed as a six-episode animated series pitting Gamera against five kaiju opponents, including (of course) Gyaos. Also released was a poster of Gyaos in silhouette; in keeping with recent tradition, it's pretty much skin and bones. The next news drop will come at AnimeJapan 2023 on March 25, where they'll announce the voice cast and release a proper trailer.

Theater listings indicate that Fathom Events will be showing Godzilla: Tokyo SOS in U.S. theaters on March 22 (a Wednesday), paired with Godzilla vs. Gigan Rex. Their Godzilla Against Mechagodzilla program included a behind-the-scenes featurette about the Godzilla vs. Hedorah short that hasn't been released anywhere else, so that's something to look out for. The timing on this seems pretty random; maybe they're trying to get GXMG's sequel (celebrating its 20th this year) out of the way so they can show Godzilla vs. Megalon on Godzilla Day? Pretty nostalgic for me—GMM was the first Godzilla movie I saw for the first time in a theater (at the Pickwick during my first G-Fest).

This week's episode of Godziban introduced Girly Garlin (official English name TBD), Gigan's little sister—and with that, the whole family's been on the show. She's a yandere, methinks.

GMK Godzilla is the latest kaiju to join Godzilla Battle Line. Usually there isn't much advance notice for newcomers, but his model showed up in a metaverse collaboration in December, so it was just a matter of time. He's the debuff king, temporarily weakening nearby enemy units with a swirl of shadow when he appears on the field and is defeated. As a leader, his special move does the same to all enemy units on the field. Pair that with an atomic breath that can hit multiple targets at once and you've got a unit I think we'll be seeing a lot of.

Sukagawa, Eiji Tsuburaya's hometown, has funded a kaiju film about a dinosaur-like beast called Yoroiger. NHK World ran an all-too-brief story on it that mentions that children made it over the course of six months with the help of some tokusatsu pros. Not sure what kind of release it'll get, but I'm certainly curious.

Hiya Toys has teased its MonsterVerse Ghidorah figure. They've made quite a few MonsterVerse figures already, but given their penchant for low prices compared to SHMA, this might be the one that really puts them on the map.

Bandai's unstoppable Movie Monster Series has unveiled four more figures—the Heisei Mechagodzilla and the Final Wars versions of Godzilla, Manda, and Hedorah—to be released later this month. Listings for them turned up a few months ago without any images attached, so it's highly likely that the ones for Showa Baragon, Showa Ebirah, Heisei King Ghidorah, and Symbiotic Legion are real too. I think I'll spring for the Manda. Its proportions are definitely squashed, but I've always liked that design and there are barely any figures of it.

[talesfromtheshatterhome]

Hey all so in honor of Mothras day (happy60 years to everyone favorite queen of the monsters) I would like to talk about someone who has been buggin me since I was a Kid. Bug? Mom figure? Momthra?

My Aunt is battlin like shes in downtown Tokyo against the Big C and because of that shes not workin on nothin but getting better. Cancer is hard and it is expensive. Please help out if you can by either sharing this post, or the link

https://www.gofundme.com/f/let-story?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet

I will post this in our bio as well. A few words from my cousin on this.

"The doctor discovered that, due to her genetic makeup, the cancer she has is very resistant to chemotherapy. Now, in addition to chemotherapy, Chrissy has to get antibodies infusions to help the chemo fight the cancer. Chrissy will need the infusions for the next year as well as 4-12 treatments of chemo. As you can imagine, hospital and medical bills will be coming in on top of typical monthly bills to help take care of her family. Unfortunately, she is currently unable to work due to her course of treatment. I am asking for your support to please lend a helping hand and donate to this fund to support Chrissy during her time of need. I personally have experienced the devastating physical and financial reality of cancer and other serious medical conditions in my own family and know the cost of treatment can be an overwhelming burden. Please give what you can and share this post. Thank you."

We love you Chrissy.

#Godzilla #Gamera #Mothra #Mosura #Gojira #Legendary #Toho #Ultraman #Kong #KingKong #TeamChrissy #FuckCancer #gofundme #TalesFromTheShatterhome #ShMonsterarts #Revoltech #Neca #FigurePhotography #ToyPhotography #TMToyPics #Kaiju #GodzillaKingOfTheMonsters #GodzillaVsKong #Pink

[romiesays]

Masked Futures

In June 2020, I hand-sewed a series of six facemasks as a textile art project concurrent with the Strange Horizons fund drive, themed around science fiction futures. My objective was to make functional garments: comfortable, breathable, protective to the extent two-layer cloth facemasks are protective, and sartorially appealing similar to the way an expensive suit, purse, shoe, or item of lingerie might give the wearer a sense of dignity without subsuming identity.

Part of my goal was to make masks seem decadent and sumptuous rather than imposed. Given that masks have historically been used to conceal or escape, it was necessary to invent a new visual language of masking, one which supports masks’ current role as a symbol of social cohesion and friendliness. I conceived all masks as unisex; the gender of the mask will be asserted (or not asserted) by the face underneath and above.

Mask 1: Dryad Pollinator Air Corps

Mask 1 echoes a 19th century waistcoat or dressing gown, including the suggestion of a military rank stripe and an illusory watch chain and fob. It alludes to H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine, and to the Neo-Victorians in Neal Stephenson’s The Diamond Age. Each of these works focuses partly on class disparities in access to social comfort and safety during a time of resource collapse.

The mask’s name offers a more fanciful interpretation, allowing the wearer to imagine life as a supernatural protector of nature—and as someone beset by not only viruses, but tree pollen and associated allergies, which might also be combatted with masks if in the near future, the pandemic has ended, but climate change continues.

Mask 2: Emergent Digital Cloud Behavior

Mask 2 fits in the category of “Blank Surface Futures”: the slick, ambiently-lit white and gray corridors of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Alien, Apple computer commercials, and countless video games. These curved, corner-less, ribbed corridors suggest a post-body future, one in which we do not need chairs or paper or windows, and our non-fingers don’t leave smudgy prints on the screens.

I had the notion that the emergence of an Artificial Intelligence, or a Singularity event, would be akin to a wedding, confirmation, or baptism—hence veil-like white translucent ribbons. I kept the mask lightweight as a play on the word “cloud,” and embellished it with a silver diagram which could represent a star map, connecting nodes, or the rotating arms on a mechanized assembly line.

Note the cheeky pop of the same purple color used in the Strange Horizons logo. The future of the Internet wants to be us.

Mask 3: Ambassador to Griffons

Mask 3 follows a Mad Max or Tank Girl aesthetic, the idea of a post-urban frontier in which scavenged high-tech elements are mixed with primitive or natural materials, and the repurposed signifiers of different eras are mixed together. There are feathers, but they’re metal. There is shaggy fur next to tapestry next to chintz. Garnets could be decorative or could mean the wearer draws blood.

Depending on whether the wearer is more fantasy or science fiction oriented, the griffons of the title might be literal mythical beasts in whose court a human needs to appear sufficiently respectful of griffon appearance cues, or the griffons might be a powerful post-apocalyptic gang.

This mask also reflects my futurist speculation that a masked society will incorporate some of the iconographic shortcuts of Internet culture (another face-hider) and foreground personality shorthands like astrological signs, Harry Potter houses, and fursonas.

Mask 4: The Sacred Heart of Solarpunk

Solarpunk is my favorite possible future to write about (and in many ways the most difficult, since it is solutions-oriented instead of escapist). When I read Rob Cameron’s New Modality essay “Promised Land: Religious Ideology and Solarpunk Science Fiction”, I decided to take up its challenge and envision a Solarpunk religious vestment, drawing on my childhood in ethnically blended, religious communities in Texas.

I imagined that the wearer of this mask had made multiple international migrations through the Global South as crops failed, aquifers dried up, and desertification occurred, but had found continuity through religious practice— faith had been a source of resilience, but also a method of community organization. I used bright-colored textiles of several national origins, including Chinese silk and a piece of an Indian sari, to reflect this figure’s overlapping identities, a source of defiant pride and the preservation of a nation’s memory through its disaspora’s rituals.

More directly, I used the blue fabric associated with the head covering of the Virgin Mary, who is said to supernaturally manifest as an intercessor and guide, and an image of the Sacred Heart, a symbol of the love of God through Jesus, a figure of miraculous suffering—existing Catholic symbols.

To these, I added two invented religious symbols: a Triune Heart (three hearts in one), imagining a faith doctrine which called for world unity as a revelation of the Holy Trinity, and a ghostly white sunflower, the Sunflower Soul. The sunflower is a recurring symbol of hardiness in science fiction, from Enter the Spiderverse to American Astronaut to, in a way, Day of the Triffids, and beyond, and it made sense to me that this would be folded into religion in the same way as the holly and the ivy, or the rose e’er blooming.

Mask 5: Covid Vampire

Mask 5 is a nod to our many revenant futures, whether the early sci-fi of Frankenstein and Dracula (a book greatly inspired by then-emerging technologies like telegrams and blood transfusions), midcentury works like I Am Legend and Godzilla, or the more recent glut of werewolf books and zombie television (not to mention the deadly and alluring humanoid robots of Blade Runner and Westworld).

Given our long history of coping with the arousal of fear by interpreting it as desire, I thought “sexy Covid-19″ was inevitable. If we can make tuberculosis, skeletons, and nuclear disaster sexy, there’s no question we will make coronavirus sexy. A bloody throat. A trembling crystal sneeze. Not the real coronavirus, but a fantasy by which we can be temporarily subsumed in cathartic release.

As a tribute, I made this mask in the style of costumer, artist, and filmmaker Eiko Ishioka (Dracula, The Cell, The Fall).

Mask 6: Tentacle Rave

Mask 6 combines the long tradition of undersea SF (mermaids, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Startide Rising, SeaQuest DSV, The Abyss, Atlantis, parts of the Cthulu mythos) with the enthusiastically garish flamboyance of psychedelic New Age futurism (including the works of Aldous Huxley and Roger Zelazny). It’s the dawning of the age of Aquarius.

Flower children, disco fiends, ravers, the Esalen institute, and harajuku decora kids have sequentially suggested we could throw out “good taste” and have more fun being colorful, over-the-top, and sociable, and that this will be the basis for a new and more perfect social order. Perhaps we will decide life’s too short and we should enjoy what we can. Perhaps in our future we will ascend through our minds’ eyes into a higher level of consciousness and will have superpowers, and glowing sea creatures will live on our faces.

[iamonlypartlymajestic]

KAIJU FORCE (SPACE FORCE/GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS FANFIC)

*Co-written with @awildtrashcan*

AO3 LINK     CHAPTER 1

Chapter 2 - Mark and Mallory (and Fuck Tony and Sam) Go to Washington

Sam smiles when he sees Dr. Mallory walking towards him, but the grin wilts when he sees how annoyed the older man is as he walks closer. The Monarch director had already finished any work pertaining to his actual job and since he was already in the area, decided to make a visit to Space Force. He was having a quite invigorating discussion with Dr. Chan about the effects of MUTO radiation on terrestrial plant life (his PhD may be in computer science, but he’s always up for learning new things), when he noticed Dr. Mallory’s ID lying forgotten on one of the nearby tables. Having recently been informed about the upcoming budget hearing that day, he figured the chief scientist was with the general getting ready.

"Dr. Mallory, I saw you left your ID back in the botany lab."

Mallory's eyes widen in surprise as Sam holds his credentials in front of him, before he breaks into a relieved smile. "Thank you, Dr. Coleman. I was just on my way to grab it."

“No pro—blem?” Rather than take the ID from Sam’s hand, Mallory drags the younger man by his jacket down the path he just came from and through the main building, all the way into General Naird's office waiting room, and pushes him in front of a guard. Why do people in Space Force want to manhandle him all the time? However, unlike with Fuck Tony, Sam doesn’t want to be rude and resigns to letting the chief scientist do as he pleases.

Mallory silently holds Sam's arm which is still carrying the older man’s ID and pushes it into the guard's face. The guard squints to stare at the small rectangular piece of plastic attached to a random man’s arm. "Thank you,” he says pleasantly, “Doctor...Mallory."

Dr. Mallory abruptly drops his hold on Sam causing the younger man to stumble on the ground. “You knew that,” Mallory says utterly deadpan.

Sam stands up and straightens out his suit and tie when the general’s assistant, Brigadier General “Just call me Brad!” Gregory, informs him about General Naird’s last minute media prep with Fuck Tony.

Mallory just sighs deeply. And walks out of the waiting room.

“Wait! Dr. Mallory!” Sam picks up the dropped ID and quickly goes after the man.

                                                             ~O~

It was just supposed to be a quick hang out sesh with the science team, despairs Sam as he trails after Dr. Mallory. Now the chief scientist has asked (read: forced) Sam to pick up what is most likely the science team budget binder for the older man so he wouldn’t have to walk back to the lab himself.

Having finally found the general (and Fuck Tony), Mallory commands his new manservant to chase after the two.

“Gen-general Naird!” Sam’s voice cracks, his lungs tired after having to jog back and forth the entire length of Space Force so many times (he's definitely met his weekly physical activity quota within the last hour). Thankfully, the general stops, allowing Sam to take a break. He holds the binder out like a shield as he pants.

“Where is my rat blood pressure research funding?!” Each of Mallory’s words are emphasized as he walks up behind Sam.

Sam barely registers that the three men have started walking again when he finally catches his breath.

“Uh, er. Dr. Mallory?” He strides up to the two arguing men, “I hate to interrupt, but now that the general is here, I’ll just head out myself.” Sam wants to just go home and take a nap. He wasn’t expecting the sudden work-out today.

As Mallory takes the binder from him, General Naird stares at Sam with a raised eyebrow. The general hums and asks, “Isn’t one of your tasks in Monarch to speak in Senate hearings?”

Bewildered by the sudden question, Sam answers with a hesitant yes.

“Do they include budget meetings?”

“Um…” Sam glances behind the general’s shoulder at Fuck Tony’s obviously amused expression.

“Perfect! You’re coming with us.” General Naird continues walking, firmly ignoring any of Sam’s and Dr. Mallory’s protests. The two PhD holders look at each other in commiseration before following.

Outside, a young woman bounces up to the general. Sam, Tony, and Mallory stand a couple feet back as General Naird and his daughter speak. Sam takes the time to look at the pilot waiting in parade rest and the helicopter behind her. It’s been a while since Sam has been in a helicopter as Monarch typically uses an Osprey to carry multiple passengers as well as important cargo over the long distances between outposts. Having looked his fill, he turns back to the conversation in front of him.

“...gave the teacher the finger,” says the general’s daughter proudly.

"Nice! Y’know, one time my history teacher gave me a C so I planted drugs in his desk, and now? He lives under a bridge like a troll!" Tony excitedly informs the teenager. He elbows Sam in camaraderie and wiggles his eyebrows.

"I never went to high school,” Sam pipes up after Tony, but quickly finishes his sentence when the general turns around to give him a hard look. “I mean—I graduated university at fourteen...so I didn’t have to?” Sam gives the older man a pained smile and tells himself to shut up.

Tony rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Nerd.”

Sam doesn’t miss Dr. Mallory’s nod of approval, however, and tries hard not to blush.

The three men watch the very uncomfortable (at least for Sam) conversation between father and daughter. General Naird then commands the pilot of their helicopter, Captain Ali, to basically babysit his teenage daughter, which Sam honestly thinks is uncalled for.

Sam gives the captain a sympathetic smile, who returns an unamused glare. A bit scared for his life now, the Monarch director hurries after the three other men into the helicopter.

“At least someone else here knows how to fly,” General Naird says gruffly as he sits himself onto the pilot’s seat. Sam’s surprised but pleased that the general remembered. Nervous about the awkward start of their first meeting, Sam had told the older man about having a pilot’s license as to create some common ground between the two.

“Kiss ass,” Fuck Tony calls him in a hushed sing-song voice. Sam rolls his eyes and refuses to answer back, buckling up his own seatbelt. As the youngest, they were both delegated to the back seats of the helicopter with Dr. Mallory up at the front passenger’s next to the general.

Sam wishes he could say he gets the last laugh upon learning how freaked out Tony gets during their flight, but the brunet man is an utter nightmare to sit next to on an aircraft.

After flying for a few minutes, Mallory takes the time to continue his argument, “Rat hemoglobins are substantially—”

“Jesus, just let him fly the fucking thing!” Tony ends up screaming into Sam’s ear as the asshole bends closer towards Dr. Mallory, who’s in the seat directly in front of Sam. “You’re talking, he’s gotta fly!”

Sam pushes the panicked man off of him, and not one to be so easily deterred, Fuck Tony pushes back, which eventually leads to a slap fight between the two younger men.

"Oh, for the love of—I will turn this helicopter back around if you don't knock it off, do I make myself clear?!" The general yells at the two behind him who quickly stop and settle down.

Sam just hears Mallory sigh wearily over the microphone.

                                                              ~O~

"So why'd you come here?" Tony asks him, eyes still fixed on his phone. The two younger men sit on wooden benches outside of the Chief of Staff Gold Room, waiting for General Naird. Unlike Mallory, who settled himself right outside of the door, he and Tony are in an empty hallway nearby, not wanting to disturb the other visitors.

"What?" Sam says, taking a pause from twisting and flexing his fingers (a nervous tic he’s developed since childhood from his need to constantly tinker with something).

Tony finally looks up from his phone and waves a hand at Sam, gesturing...something. Sam doesn’t know what. "It wasn't that surprising to see you act like Mallory's personal gofer, you science dudes tend to travel in packs. But letting Naird drag you with him? You do know the general doesn't really have power over you, right? He's your business partner, not your boss."

"I...I just thought I'd help him out? Since we're business partners I may as well make sure the group I'm working with doesn't implode weeks into our partnership." Sam chooses to ignore the fact that Fuck Tony has a point, embarrassed at his own lack of a backbone.

"Well, if you say so. Honestly, he'll need all the help he can get." The brunet sends Sam a pointed look.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam stretches his fingers even tighter, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

"You'll see," Tony says in a tone implying lots and lots of experience with the matter, and goes back to playing with his phone.

                                                               ~O~

As they walk into Capitol Hill, Sam feels his back straighten automatically, holding his head up higher to show he’s much more confident than he really is. A Pavlovian response that formed from having to speak to several crowds on behalf of Monarch.

It probably doesn’t work considering many senators still tend to disregard his existence.

Sam startles at seeing a balding senator grab the general in a forceful hug and almost bumps into Dr. Mallory in front of him.

“Well! That was awkward and horrible,” Tony declares with a grin. And Sam is about to agree until the other man continues, “The man is about to grill you, let him bring it in for the real thing. Remember!” He points a finger to emphasize his point, “You gotta embrace to get those dollars for space!”

“What? No!” Sam blurts out. Unfortunately, his warning goes unheard when an older woman passes by.

The secondhand cringe Sam gets seeing General Naird give his own non-consensual hug to Representative Pitosi makes the younger man’s skin crawl.

“What the fuck, Fuck Tony?” Sam whispers and gives his own look of disbelief towards the brunet as they wait to be let inside. The Monarch director then turns to the general and says placatingly, “Maybe you shouldn’t follow Tony’s advice, sir.”

Tony cocks his head toward the shorter man and narrows his eyes. "I'm sorry, since when were you the PR guy?"

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” Sam gives Tony a sarcastically pitying look, “I’m just the man whose job is to speak at these things.”

"Great job you're doing when you tell the general's daughter to skip school as you're telling her not to skip school." Tony raises his eyebrow and crosses his arms.

“What the hell does that even mean?!” Sam throws his hands up in the air.

“Gentlemen…” Dr. Mallory’s voice creeps up from behind the two, irritated by the noise. Sam and Tony face the chief scientist. His eyes stare coldly at them.

“Sorry, sir.” Sam says meekly.

“Whatever,” sneers Tony at the same time.

                                                             ~O~

Sam closes his eyes and focuses on breathing slowly so he doesn't end up bashing his head into something as he's forced to listen to a fucking flat earther that somehow got a position in Congress. Granted, considering the fact that the current POTUS is a Piece Of Shit he really shouldn't be surprised but holy crap, he is losing brain cells by the second. Brain cells that are very important to MUTO research, thank you very much…why the hell is here, again?

Tony obnoxiously lets out a fake guffaw and pats Sam’s shoulder harshly as the general makes a joke. Sam gives his own awkward giggle since the rest of the crowd behind them laugh along.

He really doesn’t want to be here.

Tony pulls his phone out yet again and starts typing away. Sam’s already beginning to tune out the whole hearing when his phone vibrates inside his jacket pocket. He ignores it.

Tony continues to text. Sam’s phone continues to vibrate.

Sam’s noticing a trend here. He pulls out his own phone, staring disapprovingly at Tony and then at his messages.

                                                                                               Told you so

                               You enjoying your front row seat for the cringe show?

                                                                                                     Saaaam

Sam takes a quick peek at the senators sitting above them and then leans towards Tony, whispering, “Why are you texting me right now?”

Tony presses a finger against his own lips and shushes him, “It’s rude to talk when others are speaking.”

Sam huffs and returns to his phone. What an asshole!

You’re an asshole. Stop texting me.

                                                         bold words for someone texting me

Sam leaves Tony’s messages on “read” and tries to refocus on the meeting. Representative Pitosi is holding a stack of documents filled almost entirely with black lines.

Wow. And people thought Monarch—a literally secret (or rather semi-secret now) science organization—had a problem with being open about their experiments and research?

Sam frowns as he sees the general begin to tap a pencil on the desk and clear his throat an unnecessary number of times. The Monarch representative glances around in case anyone notices him and then types out a text.

Is Naird ok?

                                                dw this happens anytime all of us depend on                                                   him being able to talk like a human being :/

Wow How does Space Force function?

                                                                                                          we dont

Sam doesn’t even bother to reply back, pressing his hand to his forehead. “Jesus…,” he whispers.

It also doesn’t help Sam’s anxiety when the general seriously says—out loud, he wants to emphasize—that “Space is hard.” He receives another text.

                                             "Space is hard." - General Mark R. Naird, 2020                                                                                                      #newmotto

Sam sinks deeper into his seat.

But then straightens up again as General Naird continues to speak.

“...I want her to have a taste of the Earth and remember what she’s fighting for.” The general’s voice trembles slightly but stays strong as he talks. It shames Sam to say this, but before this moment, he hadn’t realized how passionate General Naird is about Space Force and its role in helping society. The older man’s speech reminds him of Dr. Serizawa. How the Monarch scientist would speak in their own Senate hearings, fighting for the respect Titans deserve as fellow beings living with us on Earth. If we took care of our home and its inhabitants, they would take care of us in return.

A symbiotic relationship, if you will.

Sam smiles, his regard for the general increasing.

Incoherent chanting echoes from the back of the room. The crowd turns around to find a group of women wearing Handmaid’s Tale costumes and holding up signs with various “Pro-choice” slogans.

Bad timing, but good for them, Sam thinks.

Tony shakes him as they watch the protestors leave. “Hey, quick! Take a picture of me with them.”

“What?! Do it yourself.” But Tony has already thrown his phone at the other man and leaves Sam to juggle to not drop it. He quickly takes the picture and gives Tony back his phone. Sam’s own cell vibrates not long after.

                                                                 cant even take a proper pic smh

Below the message is the photo Sam just took. More than half of the picture is covered by his thumb, completely obscuring Tony’s face.

Who said it was accidental?

He sends Tony the middle-finger emoji.

Tony sends three back.

Sam sends a GIF of a group of people flipping off the camera.

                                                                         You win this time Coleman                                                                                                      this time

Sam smirks and puts away his phone. Just in time for Dr. Mallory to classily put the young senator on blast. He could see the woman get increasingly more embarrassed from his front row seat.

Sam wants to be like Dr. Mallory when he grows up.

Representative Pitosi finally dismisses Space Force, and Sam and Tony quickly get up to follow the general and chief scientist.

Fuck Tony glides through the center walkway, holding his hand out for high-fives along the way. However, unlike the social media director, Sam is not a child and just stares admiringly at the two older men as they walk out of the room.

"So, Dr. Coleman," General Naird turns to him and Sam has to physically shake his head to remove the heart filter over his eyes. "How was our first Space Force budget hearing?"

Sam's casual smile vanishes into a thin line. He brings his hands, palms pressed together, over his mouth and inhales sharply. Next to him, Fuck Tony grins.

[kythen]

Haikyuu!! - now and forever, into eternity and beyond

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairings: Iwaoi, background Matsuhana

Summary: It's Oikawa's eighteenth birthday and he has only one wish. Also here on AO3.

Fic commission for @risartblog !

If you would like to know more about commissioning a fic from me, please click here!

Word count: 3,413

The streamers are tangled the moment Oikawa pulls them out of the box, an unholy mess of neon green wires with little grey spaceships trapped in their midst. He could have gone the easy way and bought new ones, or even better, gone without streamers at all, but as he looks at the little paper spaceships with their tiny alien passengers, Oikawa feels a pang of sympathy for them and gets down to the painstaking task of freeing them. No one had told him that turning eighteen would be full of nostalgia, teetering somewhere between childhood and adulthood, moving forward and backward all at once as he tries to figure out where he should stand. Turning eighteen means having to organise his own birthday party, looking for and renting a space big enough to hold a group of rowdy high schoolers. But, turning eighteen also means having the freedom to decorate the room any way he likes and if he says space aliens are the way to go, space aliens are the way to go and no one can call him out for it. "You're going to rip them at this rate, Shittykawa," Iwaizumi comments from over Oikawa's shoulder as Oikawa struggles with a knot almost the size of his fist. "Man, these things are ancient. I didn't know you still had them." "I begged my mom shamelessly to let me get them for my birthday ten years ago, of course I'm not going to just throw them away," Oikawa grits out, wedging his fingernail into a gap between two wires and tugging them apart as hard as he dares. "By the time you get that untangled, another ten years probably would have gone by—just in time for your twenty-eighth birthday," Iwaizumi calls over his shoulder as he walks away, going to poke around in the other boxes they had carried into the room. "You know, Iwa-chan, you could offer to help me instead of waiting around for my twenty-eighth birthday," Oikawa says, his voice saccharine sweet as he finally loosens the knot with no small amount of vicious tugging. "I am," Iwaizumi says, squatting over a box. "Someone has to get this place set up since the host himself obviously isn't going to do it." "That's what I keep you around for, Iwa-chan, my hero." Oikawa makes a small triumphant noise as the tangle of streamers comes apart in his lap, spilling out onto the floor in a grey and green sprawl. It takes the better part of an hour to finally untangle all the streamers, the little space aliens waving their thanks at Oikawa as he lays them flat on the floor. Oikawa stretches, working the kinks out of his back as he looks around. While he had been occupied with the streamers, the room had slowly come together around him, tables and chairs neatly arranged, cans of drinks both alcoholic and non-alcoholic in orderly lines on one table, and a speaker setup sitting on another. Soft music pipes through the speakers and Oikawa recognises it from Iwaizumi's playlist. Iwaizumi's back is turned to him but Oikawa hears faint humming coming from him as Iwaizumi pulls out the snacks they had bought with the funds they had pooled together. Iwaizumi hadn't needed to chip in—Oikawa had insisted, very loudly in the middle of the supermarket—but when Oikawa had come out with an armful of snacks for the party, Iwaizumi had been right behind him with another armful, scowling at Oikawa as if daring him to say anything about it. Oikawa hadn't told him then, and wouldn't tell him now, but he had been thankful for that. Oikawa is thankful for a lot of things and on the day of his birthday, more than ever, he is thankful that Iwaizumi is here to help him with the little things like buying snacks for his party, helping him to decorate the room, and not judging his taste in streamers. Eighteen years is a long time for someone like Oikawa and now that he thinks about it, he has spent almost all of them with Iwaizumi. He had been there when Oikawa first got the spaceship streamers for his eighth birthday party and Oikawa imagines that he will be there at Oikawa's twenty-eighth birthday party, standing there under those same streamers, his eyes amused as he turns back to Oikawa and asks, "You still have them?" And Oikawa wouldn't have it any other way. He would keep those streamers for ten years and longer, until all the aliens waved goodbye at him from within their spaceships and crumbled into dust, if it means that he could have Iwaizumi by his side for all eternity. Standing here on the cusp of his seventeen and eighteenth year, Oikawa knows what he would wish for on the day of his birthday when it has been the same wish he has had ever since he realised that the world would be so very different if he had never met Iwaizumi. "You done with those?" Iwaizumi asks, coming over as he sees Oikawa taking a break, nodding at the streamers at Oikawa's feet. "Finally," Oikawa exhales noisily, leaning back on his hands. "No time to rest. The guests are going to be here soon, birthday boy." Iwaizumi nudges Oikawa's thigh with a foot, repeating the action more forcefully when Oikawa doesn't budge. Oikawa exhales again and gets to his feet, taking the streamers with him. Iwaizumi brings over a stepladder and Oikawa drifts over to a corner of the room that looks like a good place to start. It is mindless work, taping one end of the streamer to a corner of the ceiling then moving across the room to do the same there. Without complaint, Iwaizumi follows him with the stepladder, holding it in place as Oikawa ascends and descends, his knee twinging at the repetitive motion. Iwaizumi knows better than to offer to take over but he tracks Oikawa's movements with a watchful eye, his grip firm on the stepladder. Iwaizumi has stopped humming and the music barely reaches the corner they are in, the faintest ghost of a melody straining towards them. Oikawa thinks he recognises the song and he hums in his throat, trying to pick up the lyrics, when he steps back and his foot comes down on air. The world jerks for a startling moment, Oikawa's vision fills with the ceiling, and he braces himself for the fall as his hands reach out and fail to catch on the smooth surface of the wall. Arms brace him from behind, strong and steady against his back, and Oikawa finds his footing on the missed step shakily. His heart is still racing, pounding from the nearly disastrous meeting with the floor, and hands guide him down to the floor carefully. As Oikawa steps onto solid ground, he turns and Iwaizumi is still there, one hand grasping Oikawa by the waist and his other hand tight on his forearm. For a dizzying moment, their faces are close enough to touch and Oikawa looks into dark brown eyes that are full of fear, concern, and an emotion Oikawa can't quite put a name to. For a dizzying moment, Oikawa wonders what it would be like to take another step forward. Then Iwaizumi moves back, dropping his hand from Oikawa's waist but keeping his other hand on Oikawa's forearm. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine, I'm fine," Oikawa waves it off, his shakes dissolving into nothing now that his feet are firmly rooted. And the thing is, he is fine because Iwaizumi had been there. Iwaizumi takes his hand away from Oikawa's forearm and in the absence of his touch, the skin on Oikawa's arm ripples with a sudden rush of cold. "If you're fine then let's get the rest of this set up. Is that the last one?" "Yup," Oikawa says, passing his hand over his forearm absently, trying to rub warmth back into it. "We're doing the posters next." "What posters?" --- "'I want to believe,'" Hanamaki reads off a poster tacked to the wall. "'They are out there,'" Matsukawa squints at the poster next to him.

"I thought I was here for a birthday party, not an alien conspiracy convention," Hanamaki turns to Oikawa, one eyebrow raised. "Happy eighteenth, by the way." In the span of an afternoon, Oikawa and Iwaizumi had managed to put together a party from what had started out as a bare room. Iwaizumi had dealt with the tables and chairs, the food and the drinks, and Oikawa had handled everything else. The streamers fly freely above their heads, Oikawa's collection of alien posters line the wall, and the lights in the room have been switched off and replaced by glowing neon green lamps set strategically around the room. Music fills the room, a booming, thumping rhythm in stark contrast to the soft melody that had been playing from Iwaizumi's playlist during the afternoon. "I thought I told you this was an alien-themed birthday party," Oikawa shouts, raising his voice to be heard over the din, gesturing down to his hoodie and the smiling alien face printed on its front. "You celebrate me, you celebrate the aliens out there." "I'm getting mixed messages here." Matsukawa puts down the cake box he had been carrying and joins the conversation. "Was Godzilla ever classified as an alien?" His gaze shifts over to Iwaizumi who sports a shirt that most definitely doesn't have anything alien-related on it. "Iwa-chan's fashion sense is lame so he doesn't have anything alien-themed in his wardrobe." Oikawa sniffs. "I'd say his fashion sense beats yours at least. That Godzilla shirt's from Uniqlo," Hanamaki says. Iwaizumi grins and Oikawa catches it out of the corner of his eye. The skin on Oikawa's forearm tingles with the memory of Iwaizumi's hand on him and Oikawa rubs at it absently through his sleeve. They hadn't had any more moments like that after Oikawa's misstep, the both of them too busy with preparations to even face each other, and it leaves Oikawa wondering about it. What would have happened if he had taken another step forward towards Iwaizumi? He wonders if the answer would have been to his liking. "Don't worry, Oikawa. If it's any consolation, your fashion sense is definitely out of this world," Matsukawa assures him. "Can I uninvite them from my birthday party?" Oikawa turns to Iwaizumi, aghast. "Makki complimented my fashion sense so he can stay," Iwaizumi decides. Hanamaki turns to Matsukawa and pats his shoulder pityingly. "Sorry, bud. Looks like it's the end of the line for you." Matsukawa sighs. "I got my eyebrows groomed for nothing." Iwaizumi chuckles and Oikawa grins. "Thanks for the cake anyway, Mattsun." "No problem." Matsukawa shrugs. "Makki chipped in too." "It's the least we could do since Iwaizumi was already helping you with the party decorations. Must have been a trial, having just the two of you working on that by yourselves," Hanamaki says, looking meaningfully in Iwaizumi's direction. Oikawa follows his gaze to Iwaizumi, who meets Hanamaki's look impassively, his features unnaturally stiff. A muscle twitches in Iwaizumi's jaw but when Oikawa looks back at Hanamaki, he is already walking off with Matsukawa, the both of them throwing twin smirks over their shoulders at them. Oikawa turns his attention back to Iwaizumi, a curious feeling rising in him after that not-so-subtle interaction between Iwaizumi and Hanamaki, but Iwaizumi is already gone, marching away from Oikawa in the direction of the second years from their volleyball team. Oikawa blinks, finding himself suddenly alone with his birthday cake. "What the hell?" Oikawa mutters under his breath, folding his hand over his forearm, unconsciously touching the spot where Iwaizumi had held him. From there, the night passes slowly and at every turn, Iwaizumi seems to be slipping away from him, chatting with the volleyball team, classmates from school, or the university students they had played against in practice matches. At the same time, Oikawa is kept away from Iwaizumi by the waves of people who keep coming up to talk to him, the girls from school, friends from middle school, and volleyball players from other neighbouring schools. At times, Oikawa regrets his popularity and this is one of those times when everyone keeps approaching him to wish him a happy birthday and all Oikawa wants to do is to get to Iwaizumi. It is only when it is close to two in the morning, when the crowd in the room has started to thin and trickle out into the night, that Oikawa finally finds himself face-to-face with Iwaizumi. Oikawa hadn't even managed to get close to him when he was cutting his cake—or getting it smashed in his face by Hanamaki and Matsukawa—even though he had spotted Iwaizumi doubled over and laughing as Oikawa wiped cream and cake off his face. Having Iwaizumi this close to him now, after going an entire night without him by his side, is unexpectedly startling and Oikawa finds himself grabbing Iwaizumi by the arm before he fades away again. Iwaizumi looks up at him questioningly and Oikawa finds himself blurting out, "Dance with me, Iwa-chan." The pounding beats of the early evening have been switched out for a softer melody, reminiscent of the afternoon when it had just been Iwaizumi and him, the only two people in the room. For a heart-stopping moment, Oikawa thinks that Iwaizumi might refuse, furrowing his brows and scowling as he shakes Oikawa's hand off his arm, but Iwaizumi does none of that, his face impassive as he asks, "How?" Oikawa pulls Iwaizumi's arm towards him and puts it around his waist. He watches Iwaizumi's face closely as he takes Iwaizumi's other arm and does the same on the other side of his waist. Looped around Oikawa's waist, Iwaizumi locks his fingers together and his cupped hands rest snugly in the dip of Oikawa's lower back. Then, before either of them can back out of this, Oikawa slides his arms around Iwaizumi's neck and steps in close, lining up their bodies from chest to hip. "So I know that you suck at dancing, Iwa-chan, so I thought we could just... move to the music," Oikawa mutters, keeping his eyes fixed on the jut of Iwaizumi's throat as he tries not to think about how close the both of them are suddenly and how their bodies are touching and how he might not have thought this through before acting on impulse. "You're not much better at dancing so let's not pretend this is solely for my benefit," Iwaizumi retorts. "Whatever. Just keep hugging me and don't step on my feet," Oikawa says as the both of them start swaying to the music, their bodies falling surprisingly easily into the rhythm. The song playing through the speakers is familiar and with a jolt, Oikawa realises that he recognises it from earlier. "This is a song of yours, isn't it?" Oikawa asks Iwaizumi as they sway on the spot, his hands growing clammy where they rest behind Iwaizumi's neck and his body growing hot where it touches Iwaizumi. He still hasn't managed to make eye contact with Iwaizumi and when he sneaks a glance at him, Oikawa sees him looking over Oikawa's shoulder at the air behind him, his face stiff. In the dim neon lights, Oikawa can't see the colour of Iwaizumi's face but he guesses that it might be red, just like Oikawa's, as if they were a pair of lovestruck teenagers. "It is," Iwaizumi says and that is all he says. "It's nice." Oikawa hums along with it. "It sounds romantic. I didn't think you were the type, Iwa-chan." "It's just one song." "I bet you have a whole lot of other romantic songs in your playlist," Oikawa tells him. "I mean, look at Makki and Mattsun." Oikawa turns them around in a slow circle so that Iwaizumi can see what he just spotted across the room and Iwaizumi cracks a smile as he sees Hanamaki and Matsukawa wrapped up in each other's arms, their heads bent low and their foreheads pressed together. Oikawa watches Iwaizumi from under his lashes, taking advantage of his distraction to run his eyes over his face, taking in everything familiar and dear to him. There had been a strange moment from middle school to high school as their bodies lengthened and grew and their faces lost their childlike roundness that Oikawa realised how handsome Iwaizumi was. Girls and guys often flocked to Oikawa but Oikawa could never understand how they missed Iwaizumi when he was always right there next to Oikawa. Standing this close to him, their faces barely a handspan apart, the urge to take a step forward and close the gap between them revisits him again and a shiver passes over Oikawa. Iwaizumi's eyes widen fractionally and dart away from the slow dancing pair behind Oikawa, fixing on Oikawa's face as he says, "They, uh, they're kissing." Now that Iwaizumi's eyes are on him, their gazes meet as the both of them forget that they were looking away from each other and whatever Oikawa was about to say in response slips away from him. Oikawa thinks he stops breathing for a moment. Then, his voice strangely airy and his mouth moving independently of his brain, Oikawa finds himself asking, "Iwa-chan, what do you think of me?" Iwaizumi blinks, his brows furrowing at the sudden change in topic. "Do you want the honest truth or the birthday immunity truth?" "Be honest." "You're a brat to people you don't like." "Hey!" Oikawa says indignantly. "You wanted honest," Iwaizumi reminds him. "I did," Oikawa says grudgingly. "Go on." "You're obnoxious when you win and you hate losing. So you're obnoxious both times, But," Iwaizumi hesitates for the briefest moment, his eyes never leaving Oikawa's face. "I guess you have a reason to be. You work hard, harder than anyone I've ever known, and it's worrying more than reassuring. You should take better care of yourself and you don't." "Sorry." "I'll accept that apology when I see you finally doing it." Oikawa chuckles, somewhat bitterly. "I didn't know so much of me bothered you." "It does." Iwaizumi's jaw tightens, as if he is having a moment of internal struggle, then relaxes before he continues, "You do." "So why are you still with me?" Oikawa asks. The breath still hasn't returned to his lungs and he feels light-headed and floaty. At this rate, he thinks he might pass out in Iwaizumi's arms before they reach the conclusion of this conversation, whatever it may be. "Because someone has to." "Because we're childhood friends?" "Because..." Iwaizumi stumbles, faltering as he realises what Oikawa had just led him into. He looks up into Oikawa's eyes and Oikawa sees a mix of emotions in the depths of his eyes, confusion, embarrassment, and that same emotion Oikawa couldn't put a name to earlier in the day. He hopes it is what he thinks it is, and he gets his answer as Iwaizumi swears softly under his breath, "Because—damnit, I'm going to get you for this later, Shittykawa—because I like you." A knot unravels in Oikawa's chest, like his childhood streamers coming undone and slipping past his hands, buoying him up and above as he knocks his forehead against Iwaizumi's and takes a deep breath before asking, "Is that the honest truth or the birthday immunity truth?" "It's the truth." Iwaizumi meets his eyes squarely, as if daring him to question him further about it. Oikawa doesn't, because at this point of time, there are more pressing questions he wants answered like, "So how would you feel if I were to kiss you now?" "I don't know," Iwaizumi replies carefully, every word a challenge that falls from his lips. Or an invitation. "Maybe you'll have to give it a try." "Maybe I will," Oikawa says and finally, finally, he leans in, closing the gap between them. In the careful press of lips between them and the trembling touch of Oikawa's hands against Iwaizumi's shoulders, Iwaizumi doesn't pull back, his arms tightening around Oikawa's waist, and Oikawa has Iwaizumi's answer to his question right there. Behind him, rising over the fading melody of Iwaizumi's song, Oikawa hears elated hooting, but he doesn't care, not when this moment stretches out between Iwaizumi and him, a night going slow and reaching out into forever.

[wazafam]

Since making its theatrical premiere on March 26, 2021, Ilya Naishuller's action-revenge film Nobody has remained among the top 10 films at the domestic box office. The film has drawn praise for Bob Odenkirk's unlikely but convincing performance as Hutch Mansell, a suburban dad suffering the worst day of his life before going on a violent rampage.

RELATED: 10 Movies To Watch To Get Excited For Bob Odenkirk's Nobody

Movies are always extremely difficult to make, but, in the age of COVID-19, the task has been made even more of a challenge. As a result, a lot of time, effort, and preparation went into making Nobody one of the best action films of the year.

10 Conception

While Derek Kolstad is crediting with writing the screenplay, the conceptual premise of Nobody was conjured by star Bob Odenkirk. According to Vulture, Odenkirk imagined a wish-fulfillment fantasy revenge scenario after being victimized by home burglary twice in his life. In one instance, Odenkirk locked his assailants in the basement until the police arrived.

"I think most people watching this movie will not realize the level of autobiography there is in it,' Odenkirk says. "I had two home break-ins in Los Angeles. One was particularly traumatic. I grabbed a baseball bat. In the movie, I grab a golf club. I think I did the right thing. Nobody is very related to my actual experience of having someone in the house, threatening my family, trying to keep the damage to a minimum."

9 Bob Odenkirk's Training

In trying to secure funding for the film while also navigating the global pandemic, Odenkirk spent two and half years rigorously training for his fight sequences in the film.

RELATED: 10 Best Movies Starring Bob Odenkirk, Ranked By Rotten Tomatoes Score

Per Vulture, Odenkirk spent at least one and a half years training at 87Eleven, an action-shooting and fighting facility in Los Angeles where such stars as Keanu Reeves, Jason Statham, Charlize Theron, Halle Berry, Sean Penn, and others have trained in the past. In addition to hand-to-hand combat training, Odenkirk attended Taran Tactical to learn how to use firearms.

8 Fighting Inspiration

While preparing for the role, Odenkirk scoured the internet for fighters to pattern his style after or to find inspiration of some kind. According to GQ, there was one particular legendary fighter that Odenkirk studied the most.

"I watch a lot of Bruce Lee stuff on YouTube," Odenkirk admits. "I asked if I could do the One Inch Punch in Nobody and I was told 'No, you will not be good enough to do that,' and they were right. I don't think I will ever be, but I will continue to try."

7 Comedic Approach

Although many have come to know Bob Odenkirk as Saul Goodman from Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul, his background comes from sketch comedy. When asked if approaching an action film is any different than approaching comedy, Odenkirk got candid.

RELATED: 15 Best Action Comedies That Blend The Genres Perfectly

According to Slashfilm.com, Odenkirk found the fight sequences similar to sketch comedy. "In fact, the fight sequences, the closest thing I can bring them to were comedy sketches. They have a limited run, they have a little story, they have a beginning, middle, and end. There's a cleverness when you do it right."

6 Filming Locations

Part of the thrill of Nobody is the unidentified city it takes place in, suggesting that such violence could happen in any big city on the planet. However, two distinct cities were used for the filming of the movie.

According to Production List, the first half of the 34-day film shoot took place in Los Angeles where several establishing shots of the city were filmed. However, per Winnipegctv.news.ca, the majority of the action was filmed in Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada. The iconic bus rumble, for instance, was filmed at 171 Princess Street in Winnipeg.

5 Covid-19 Delays

Despite being filmed from September to October of 2019, the film was not released theatrically until March 26, 2021. Due to the global COVID-19 outbreak and subsequent lockdown, Nobody suffered four release date changes before finally hitting theaters.

RELATED: 10 Major Hollywood Movies That Are Currently Filming Through The Pandemic

Nobody was originally slated to open on August 14, 2020. When the pandemic hit, the film was pushed back to February 26, 2021 (per THR). The film then moved up one week for a February 19, 2021 release before being delayed to its ultimate release date of March 26, 2021.

4 Rising Stuntman

Bob Odenkirk has been earning rave reviews for his physical performance, for which he spent years training and getting into peak shape. However, Odenkirk could not do all of the required stunt work himself.

As such, Odenkirk's stunt double was played by fast-rising stuntman Tyler Witte. Since making his cinematic debut as a stunt driver on Baby Driver in 2017, Witte has already worked on Thor: Ragnarok, Black Panther, Avengers: Infinity War, Avengers: Endgame, Godzilla Kings of the Monsters, Zombieland: Double Tap, and more.

3 Family Connection

One of the most entertaining aspects of Nobody is Hutch's family dynamic, including the droll relationship he has with his father, David Mansell (Christopher Lloyd). Believe it or not, these two actors share more than phony DNA.

RELATED: 10 Disney Shows Or Movies You Didn't Know Were Filmed In Canada

In fact, both Christopher Lloyd and Bob Odenkirk share the same birthday, October 22nd. Lloyd is 24 years older than Odenkirk, making him a plausible father figure in the film.

2 John Wick Connection

Although it boasts a similar tone, style, and pace, fans may not realize the lengthy connection Nobody has with the John Wick franchise. For starters, screenwriter Derek Kolstad penned all three John Wick films to date.

Moreover, Hutch is seen discarding an ammo magazine from his rifle in the exact same manner John Wick does in John Wick: Chapter 2. An additional linkage includes The Quest song "The Impossible Dream" which plays in both this film as well as the trailer for John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum.

1 Possible Crossover Sequel

In fact, so simpatico are the teams behind Nobody and John Wick that both Ilya Naishuller and Derek Kolstad have expressed interest in making a crossover sequel between the two action franchises. According to comicbook.com, the potential Lionsgate/Universal joint production would be done in a nuanced way more akin to a hidden Easter Egg than an outright crossover.

According to Indiewire, Naishuller also expressed the possibility of a Nobody/John Wick mashup, noting how the same studio produced both films.

NEXT: John Wick: 10 Unpopular Opinions (According To Reddit)

Nobody: 10 Behind-The-Scenes Facts About The Bob Odenkirk Movie from https://ift.tt/3uFgKQr

[sweetlifetownsville]

The Local Government Godzilla: Should The CCC Be Taking A Closer Look At The Money-Grubbing Activities Of The LGAQ?

But even if the CCC isnt bothered, you should be. The Magpie has a beak around to warn of actual or threatened raids on the ratepayers piggy banks with money-spinning schemes that really benefit no one but the LGAQ itself. Also, a look back down memory lane at solicitor Barry Taylors efforts to bring to Townsville a business urger who is now awaiting sentence next month for corruption connected to the Ipswich Council. And not unrelated, in a moment of clarity, The Magpie realises that this sorry episode was the catalyst for Taylors pathological hatred of the old bird, which continues to this day with a spiteful legal vendetta. The Pie will explain how it all fits. Some sobering statistics about the real Real Estate situation in Townsville, with some graphs the Bulletin is too coy to share with you. And for those who enjoy our now regular Trump gallery, A BONUS a few select pictorial comments on Britains Brexit fiasco. But first Even Buffoons Can Occasionally Be Funny (as The Magpie Knows) Theres been a lot of huffing, puffing and posturing about Clive Colonel Blimp Palmer during the week. First there was the hissy fit by some over Palmers text message saying if he gets back onto the parliamentary plush, he will move to ban such political texting as this.

The Magpie got one, and the old birds instant reaction? Roaring laughter. Lets give Ol Lardarse a couple of brownie points the text is one of the funniest, and surely intentional, jokes of the current election campaign. Unsurprisingly, there was instant babble about hypocrisy which came thick and fast from the pompous chatterati navel gazers, but the Pie will take his laughs where he can get them, and salutes whoever thought up this one for Palmers doomed campaign (possibly someone called S. Sokolova, who authorised the text for the UAP). In fact, doomed causes seem to be a recurring theme this week for Clive, who announced he was giving a dinner dance for a select few Towns-villains to celebrate Titanic ll the return of the legend. Sad when someone has to promise free food and booze to get them to just turn up. And the general feeling is whatever sort of guest selection process that was bubbling around behind the Palmer brow, if you didnt get an invite, then you were not considered of merit or value to Clive.

But when it became known amongst our movers and shakers who was in and who was out, it was a matter of do we laugh or cry was it a hot ticket, or a hot potato ticket, to be dropped immediately? Being favoured by Palmer is something many would like to be quiet about, but then, neither is being left out of a fabulous free food fight, ones ego can be buffeted by such neglect. Many would have loved an invite if for no other reason it have the unlikely option to RSVP sod off. But Bentley for one believes it will a unique experience, with special attire for dancers.

The highlight of the night for Clive will be when the adoring and grateful throng gather around him to sing what he will think is a fitting tribute to him, a rousing rendition of the Titanic hymn, Nearer My God To Thee. What Starts Out As A Good Idea Doesnt Always End Up That Way.

The Local Government Association of Queensland has been around since 1896, and for the most part, has been a valuable and necessary lobby group for all Queensland councils. Councils pay an annual fee to belong to the LGAQ (Townsville pays around $250K annually), membership is voluntary but all 77 Queensland councils are members. In total, they pay $35million annually in membership fees. The smaller outfits get value from matters such as insurance deals and other areas where the Associations clout can be brought to bear. But about 10 years ago, under the leadership of former Townsville council executive and now the Association CEO Greg Hallam, it was decided that there were more lucrative fields in which the Associations leverage with such a captive (albeit voluntary) membership could be used to build a significant commercial operation. Put simply, the organisation decided to become commercial entrepreneurs.

LGAQ CEO Greg Hallam And boy, did they ever. Figures for 2016 show there was a massive bump in revenues, jumping from $46m to $73m, a goodly chunk of this coming from their commercial procurement arm Local Buy (that includes the $35m membership revenue). In simple terms, Local Buy has screened and listed (for a fee) various businesses from across the state, all of whom can then by-pass the tender process and submit direct quotes for contracts to any of the 77 council members. On the face of it, this saves councils money in avoiding the costly procurement work of tendering and so on. But it also sounds like an invitation to corruption on a grand scale. The Pie has no evidence of or suggesting there is, such activity, but looking at the process, there doesnt seem to be a foolproof safeguard against some expensive jiggery-pokery if someone wanted a new spinnaker for the yacht. But does it save councils money? Local Buy is anything but since it opens up work to the whole of Queensland, often bypassing truly local businesses in the highly selective process which requires a fee for ticking the right boxes (literally, apparently). Local Buy takes a cut of the contract amount of the winning quote usually 10% but The Pie is told sometimes more. Of course, since this is all above board and known, what do the quoters do? They of course factor the 10% in and add it on to their quote, in many cases wiping out any significant savings for the council involved, as well in some instances, as denying many a rate paying, money-spending locals a job . This has caused a great deal of angst here in Townsville, whose mayor is a $32K plus a year LGAQ director, and whose sidekick (now on what seems permanent leave), Stephen The Screaming Midget Beckett, is reported to have had loud abusive outbursts with local business people who have complained about the situation. And to what end is all this? Theres a great deal of money flowing into the coffers of the Association, and they arent shy of shouting themselves lavish overseas jollies disguised as work studies. Why does a lobby group want to be so entreprenurial? Do they want to reduce council membership to zero on the user pays basis (yeah, right), or some witty cynic might suggest, as a lobby group, for a bribery pool? (Just a joke, Mr Hallam, put down the phone.) But there is a more troubling aspect to this arrangement, apart from freezing out local contractors and permanent local workers rather than special workforce brought in for a set amount of time before disappearing back wherever they came from.

If you care about strong local voice in Townsvilles affairs, it would well to be wary of a crowd called Propel Partnerships, who appear to be getting into bed with the LGAQ. Propels buzz-word blurbs try to disguise their activities by describing themselves as a shared services company and pepper their media releases with such euphemisms as fully integrated customer services; Propel Partnerships is simply a profit-driven, out-sourcing business. Current (or possibly former by now) chairman Jim Soorley, that old Labor stager from way back in Brissy, had his mate Carl Wulff, the then CEO of Liverpool Council in Sydney (now awaiting sentence in chokey for bribery in the Ipswich scandal) enter into an agreement that has ended up with the NSW Crime and Corruption Commission. This sort of thing can cost local jobs and introduce a totally remote, sometimes hostile letter-of-the-law approach to dealings with staff and with the local community in such areas as rates, payroll services (shades of Qld Health yikes!) and licensing. And not a chance of a face-to-face session of negotiation. This is an extension of the popular Big Brother move in business, a model that even further removes the public from reasonable (and reasonably expected) interaction with their council. To understand what happens in both these centralisation scenario, one need look further than the dear old Townsville Bulletin, which has been so savagely ravished by Ruperts money-hungry minions and sloppy reporting staff directed from Holt Street in Sydney, a paper which hilariously subbed in NZ, Mumbai, the Phillipines or Brisbane. Of course, one attraction for councils in this model is that it does away with the necessity of either engagement or accountability with the people who elected them or provided their jobs. This is the rapidly emerging tip of a massive iceberg, with Greg Hallam and his board deciding rather than try and fight off a competitor in an money-sinkhole business battle, instead join forces and share a cut of a captive pie. This is obvious when Hallam gave this ringing endorsement : The work of Propel Partnerships ensured that councils were ableto realise efficiencies in their operations while remaining in touch with the needs of their communities. Im confident that Propel has the right formula to bring success to any local government wanting to havethe best customer service, he said. This type of service clearly does no such thing as remaining in touch with the needs of their communities quite the opposite . Mr Hallams self-serving ideas of best customer service and that of the general public may widely differ laughably so. Saving money, especially public funds, is in most instances an admirable goal, but in this case, it is just another legalised rort of dubious value: and it is actually doubtful that the average ratepayer gets a single cents benefit therell always be reasons found not to lower ratesand charges. So be wary of this sort of further alienation of individual communities by the robotic, rorting remote control of more aspects of our lives. More Lessons To Be Learned From Post-Pisasale Ipswich Before we leave this subject, check this out.

Those figures are mind-boggling and it could easily happen here unless we are on our toes after all, before his downfall, Pisasale was lionized by Jenny Hill, who said she wanted Townsville to be more like his Ipswich. It probably is, but the CCC just hasnt found out about it. And this sort of lark dovetails nicely with the cold, callous restructure advocated in the Jenny Hill-0commissioned Nous Report. And boy, hasnt that Ipswich decision put Hallams panties in a bunch. The LGAQ chief seems somewhat spooked by the Ipswich scandal coming so close to home, and used Trumps favourite trope to discourage any close examination of local government in Queensland.

That mentioned head is of course Hallam, and it could be said, on the evidence of other corruption in councils, that the word pinhead could also apply to him. Maybe the CCC might start taking an interest in the LGAQ and all those tens of millions. Now that would be interesting. Historical Snapshot: Barry Taylor And One Of His Mates Yesteryear

On the left, the bloke that looks like his got the loser of a cat fight on his head, thats the Carl Wulff that was Jim Soorlys pal at Liverpool Council before Wulff headed north to Ipswich. And of greater interest to us here in the ville is the bloke on the right. Thats Wayne Myers, a seriously well-connected go-between linking corporate life to a number of movers and shakers in the Queensland ALP. Mr Myers has pleaded guilty to corruption in connection with the Ipswich council he has admitted he facilitated bribes to go to his co-offenders who have also pleaded guilty. He will be sentenced next month when well see just how well connected he is. But heres an interesting little bit of nostalgia Mr Myers is no stranger to Townsville, or to legal fee gouger Barry the Legal Foghorn Taylor.

Back in the early noughties, maybe 2004, Meyers rode into Townsville with the hope of siphoning a good chunk of public money into his community telco business, which was being driven out of non-performing mining minnow Rennison. It was a classic case of the Mates Economy. Myer recruited local Labor fundraiser and Mooney confrere Barry Taylor to corral a bunch of bizoids into his boardroom to hustle the dollars. Each chipped in $20k (including apparently Mrs Foghorn more on that in a minute) and then Myers went about trying to convince His Radiance Mayor Mooney that the ratepayers should (1) chip in an interest-free loan of $250k, (2) $20k of straight-up equity, and (3) commit to a long-term deal for all of the Councils telecommunications needs to the new company.

As things transpired, His Radiance, in his pre-meltdown years, had the good sense to have the matter properly researched by his then IT chief Anthony Wilson, who quickly nixed the deal offered by Myers and Taylor. Despite a lot of aww, cmon, mate, old buddy, pal entreaties, Mooney said no. In fact, The Pie was told that Mooney thought the whole thing a bad joke. The deal on the table was a dud. Myers model guaranteed fees to Rennison first and before anyone else; would have delivered sub-par service and cost outcomes to Council (Council could and did do much better); never budgeted for a repayment of the proposed loan; and didnt have a cent of interest for Council. Poor old Richard Spiderman Ferry had become the chairman of a local business he knew nothing about. He was left carrying the can, when the business model proved a failure. There is no information about what happened to any monies that may have been handed over, but you can bet Bazza put in a bill for any legals. What Myers (and Taylor, who mustve surely twigged to what Myers was up to if he hadfnt twigged, doesnt say much for his legal or business radar) tried to get away with was an arrangement where Rennison re-sold Optus Services to NQ Telco, and took a clip. Too many layers with too thin a set of margins doomed the activity from day one. Myers went on his way, and Bazza carried on his hosting of other southern white shoe brigaders and their dubious schemes, notably the disgraced fraudster Craig Gore (currently fled to Sweden in the hope of avoiding jail on multiple charges of financial fraud), who risibly said he would put in a canal estate in the duck pond in front of the casino. Considering what happed later with Port Hinchinbrook, Townsville really dodged a bullet there when that all fell flat, but no thanks to Mr Taylor. But All This Has Led To A Personal Revelation For The Pie The Magpie has never fully understood the seething animosity that has driven Taylor on a vendetta against him that continues in the courts to this day. Barry on several occasions over the years, had threatened to sue me, but was never able to say for what (he was drunk on two occasions). Of course, he was all hot air at that stage because Bazza was never brave enough in his bluster to take on News Ltd, for whom I worked at the time. When Peter Gleeson came to town, he was in Barrys pocket even before he arrived, with his wife pre-promised a cushy job with Enema Legal. I was puzzled that a boisterous boofhead like myself could attract such venom. At one stage, Taylor had Gleeson direct me to delete a quite harmless mention of him he had heard I was to include in the Magpie column (the comment simply said he had bought a multi-million dollar property in Noosa, and Barry said it could damage his reputation in Townsville his what, you laugh?) that was only time any editor interfered in any of my opinion columns for personal and not legal reasons. In that incidence, Taylor sent in a handwritten letter which Gleeson showed me (appalling writing and grammar) that strangely said that I was waging a campaign against his family. I didnt, and dont know his family, and quickly proved in the papers computer system that I had mentioned Taylor a total of 7 times in 8 years, none of them derogatory. I mentioned his wife in passing once when I wrote that she was the director of a company THAT HAD PUT $20k INTO A DUBIOUS TELCO BUSINESS WITH THE COUNCIL! Nothing illegal or even untoward was suggested, except that I didnt think it was a good idea. So there we have it. That must have been the start of it all, Baz not only being caught out in the subsequently failed telco venture, but that I had revealed he had inveigled his missus to whack up some cash as well (through a company of which she was a director, as I remember). Totally harmless, just a bit of local gossip, but somehow, Barry became as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. His bluster continued down the years, including threatening to arrange a boycott of Michels restaurant if they didnt drop their advertising on this blog. (They did drop the ads, he was a valuable albeit much disliked customer, but were happy to let me keep the couple of hundred they had paid.) And so it goes on still, he talked poor old Rabieh Krayem into suing me for alleged libel, knowing full well that I have no money or assets to pay 100th of the ludicrous $300,000 claimed. Well, Baz, hatred comes at a cost, because you didnt reckon on two highly principled and incensed lawyer friends who offered to defend me because they cannot abide bullying, especially legal bullying like trying to spuriously involve my daughter on a technicality in matters that dont even remotely concern her. That alone was a clear measure of your craven behaviour and that of the ninny Venesa Gleeson (Typos wife) as a mother herself, youd think she might have some scruples, but alas, she will use the Hitler excuse I was just following orders least the Court of Appeal has chucked out that bit of vicious nonsense. Rabieh, make sure you have it in writing that Barry is doing this for nothing for you, and that it really, as a mutual friend told me, purely Barrys show. Otherwise, those Nudgee fees for your two lads may well end in up in the Taylor bank account in Noosa. The Townsville Property Market Will Be Hunky Dory In 2019, Says The Astonisher. As the Hotels Combined teddy bear says on telly Really? Dont believe everything Mr Convincing tells you.

Since the City Economist, David Lynch, seems largely silent, heres a chart showing building approvals for 2018 (December numbers not available yet). The data is from the Councils own website.

One could do some extra work and show the comparisons for the previous year, or two for that matter, but why take work away from Lynchy. To summarise: to the 11 months, in 2017 there were 641 dwelling approvals. In 2018 there were 432. For those numerically inclined thats 209 fewer or 30.2% less in number. And gee, I thought the stadium was going to be the one catalyst that would turn the whole show around. The one catalyst claim came from none other than the muppets at Enterprise House (where Mr Lynch used to work.) And to cap things off, The Pie offers these self-explanatory charts.

However, the Astonisher persists with its cheery inanities, but raises an interesting pictorial question. One of the spangled cheer leaders of this self-serving guff is this bloke

Propertyology managing director Simon Presley A propertyologist sorely in need of a psychologist and some serious sartorial advice. Seriously, are you going to believe a bloke who decides to sit in the middle of a busy Brisbane road, with an empty chair next to him to signify that no one else is that dopey. Keep it up, Mr Presley and youll soon be joining your namesake. Captain Towns May Have Been A Blackbirder But At least we have tucked his statue away in a discreet corner, but not those right-wing race-baiters up in Cairns. They have even got Captain Cook throwing a big Nazi salute.

Finally, Not One But Two Mini-Galleries On Overseas Matters The first is the Brexit hullabaloo, which is far from over, but has been a cartoonists cornucopia. Heres four of the best.

And That Leads Us Into The Week In Trumpistan What a difference a few hundred metres makes. Because of his tantrum induced government shut-down, Trump was without catering services to entertain a visiting football team. So as a man addicted to whoppers, he called in Burger King to provide the food for the boys (he couldve just as easily gone with Maccas, asking his guests You want lies with that?)

And just down the road in DC at the very same time, there was a food line of Federal employees who havent been paid that stretched around the block of this massive federal building.

So its true what they say about America being a land of contrasts. That issue continued to dominate the visual commentary of the week, but the New Yorker knew who was needed to sort out demon Donny.

And so it goes .. Thats it for this week, Nesters, and remember that comments run throughout the week, have your say, there was a very lively thread on the council getting involved in the citys mental health work (some hilarious) and theres plenty of fodder in this weeks Nest. And The Pie is loathe to say it, but times are a bit skinny in the Nest at the moment, with a few blog bills hitting the deck since Christmas, so any help with a donation would be greatly appreciated. The how to donate button is below. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/the-local-government-godzilla-should-the-ccc-be-taking-a-closer-look-at-the-money-grubbing-activities-of-the-lgaq/

[blograzorwit]

Jest A Minute (30/3/2018) from Subroto Mukherjee

Godzilla Ka Baap-------------------------- And I used to think our Mumbai has the worst potholes in the world. The other day in Rome, a pothole in the road swallowed up a whole car! By gosh, what was the size of that pothole? Was it even a pothole -- or a Godzilla-size POT-ZILLA! *** Heaven Help Us!-------------------------- An old Chinese space station named Heavenly Palace is falling and will crash on earth. But no one is quite sure exactly when and where. In other words, Heaven only knows when Heavenly Palace will land -- and on whose head! *** Walking Is Good For Us--------------------------------- Hasin Jahan was advised by her doctor to walk. Walking, she was told,  is relaxing and good for our health and well-being. And she admitted that yes, it was true that, after all her marital trauma, walking made her feel good. In fact, she said she felt great after walking away from her hubby! *** Wedding Bells Before Hell?--------------------------------------- Vijay Mallya is wedding his long-time air-hostess girlfriend, Pinky Lalwani. Sounds like a nice plan to me. Yeah, if you ask me, best to get married before heading for the sasural -- which is of course slang for prison! *** Is Amit Shah-ji enjoying too much OILY foods these days? The way his tongue SLIPPED during a recent speech, he had the opposition rolling on the floor with guffaws! *** Not Patriotic?--------------------- Those poor Oz cricketers and their ball-tampering antics with sandpaper -- OK, listen, whatever they were doing, THEY WERE DOING IT FOR THEIR COUNTRY! They were doing something patriotic! No? But too bad, too bad that their own country did them in! *** What the Hic?--------------------- What makes Rani Mukherji TICK? She can make a film CLICK with a role in which she goes HIC HIC HIC . . . ! *** Sky Is the Limit------------------------ Believe it or not, a mere cup of tea costs Rs 135 and a mere cup of coffee costs Rs 180 at the Chennai airport! Hey, hell of an airport where it's not only the aircraft that rise to the sky. So do the prices in its coffee shop. *** To be quite frank, I'd never be able to afford the beverages there. Because -- hey, I might enjoy CHAMPAGNE TASTE but I am handicapped by a STREET BUDGET. *** Counting One's Blessings------------------------------------- Lalu-ji gets 14 years in jail for his Fodder Scams! Well, at least now he can spend the time pleasurably behind bars -- counting and re-counting all the moolah he made from the scams.   *** Hottie---------- Justin Bieber was seen in the intimate company of a curvy swimsuit model -- a real hottie. He promptly nicknamed her Mumbai. Oh, why so? Why name her Mumbai? Because he recalled his last visit to our city and PHEW, man, was it hot here! Same as her -- HOT HOT HOT! *** Pocket Spy------------------ Face it, your smartphone is like a satellite spy in your pocket, tracking you every second of your life, aware of everything you do, every move you make -- however intimate or private! Let me tell you, if super-spy James Bond were for real and around today, he'd be down on his knees, wringing his hands, begging, pleading with a smartphone : "Oh, please, please, little master, teach me all your tricks!" *** WHAT? Facebook is stealing our data? Hey, as far as I am concerned, no sweat. I post only jokes on Facebook. So if they steal my jokes -- the laugh is on them! *** Frankly I see a lot of 'rubbish' on Facebook. So if they are stealing 'rubbish' -- then, hey, it's a bigger joke is on them! ***     Senior Citizen Farmers-------------------------------- Farmers of our Maha State recently marched into town and laid siege to the Mantralaya in order to demand certain rightful benefits. Well, to get get these benefits, they had to fill in senior citizens forms. Yeah, even the youngest farmers had to do so. Because, you see, by the time they actually get the benefits, they are quite likely to become senior citizens! *** What Happened?------------------------- Hillary-ji was in Mumbai to promote her book about why she lost to Trump-ji in the presidential election. The title of the book is What Happened? Hey, you need a whole book to BORE us on what happened when it could be summed up in two words? Yes, just two words : PUTIN HAPPENED! Putin-ji happened and poor Hillary-ji didn't even know what hit her! *** Prominent Figures----------------------------- Did Trump at one time date the likes of adult film starlets and Playboy Bunnies? NO! Come on, give that great guy some credit. But, hey, given the figures of those ladies, he did date some PROMINENT figures. ***   Passing Gas-------------------- Great Britain claims Putin's agents used NERVE GAS in the heart of the UK. Oh my, where did Putin get the NERVE to do so! On the other hand, what about the clever Brits? So far, they have NOT been able to produce an iota of proof or a shred of evidence to back up their charges. All the Brits have been doing is PASSING GAS! *** Modern Kurukshetra----------------------------- In a recent speech, Rahul-ji compared the BJP to the Kauravas and the Congress to the Pandavas. I hope he knows what he is talking about. After all, at the very end of the Mahabharat, no one survived the Kurukshetra. All perished. Even the Pandavas found themselves dead and alone on the highway to the Hereafter. Only a stray dog took pity on them and gave them company on that final journey.   Hey, if it comes to our politicos today, I wonder whether even a stray dog would care to accompany these self-serving opportunists anywhere! *** In the general elections next year, most opposition parties will ally together to take on the mighty BJP. Hey, even if they win and defeat the BJP, the moot question remains, will anything change for the better for us poor citizens? I doubt it. After all, as the joke goes, how many politicos does it take to change a light bulb? NONE! Forget electric bulbs, our politicos CANNOT change anything! *** OK, who will you vote for in the crucial next general election? Me? I will vote for no one. For medical reasons. I will vote for none on the grounds of my ill health.By that, I of course mean I am SICK of our politicos! *** Grand Celebs-------------------- If you recall, Rhea Pillai and Leander Paes did have a GRAND wedding. But now to all looks and appearances, they are headed for a GRAND divorce. I mean, who knows, it could be a million GRAND in alimony! *** Hey, for a champ who really knows how to swing the raquet on the tennis court, Leander has aptly raised quite a 'raquet' in this unfolding court drama. *** Run For Your Life------------------------ Recently a leopard popped up in a Mumbai suburb and the locals ran every which way. So there you are. As health experts say so rightly, running is good for your health -- yeah, especially if you can OUT-RUN wild leopards! *** Master of the Universe---------------------------------- Stephen Hawkings was an authority on Black Holes. But on his one and only visit to Mumbai in the past, even that great scientist was puzzled by the mysterious appearance and growth of black holes (potholes) in our roads! Oh, by the way, long before Elon Musk's sports car rocketed into space to roam the universe, Stephen Hawkings did something far more spectacular -- he trawled the universe including its mysterious Black Holes -- SITTING IN HIS WHEEL-CHAR! *** Jumping Jerk?---------------------- There's a star who used to be called Jumping Jack. Now, if we are to believe his cousin, Jumping Jack once acted like a Jumping Jerk --and jumped into this cousin's bed UNINVITED! *** Really Losing It-------------------------- Our Maha government is -- hold your breath -- a staggering 15,376 crores in debt! So no funds to feed the state's undernourished children in rural areas. No funds to ease the distress of its farmers. No finds for anything worthwhile. But this very Maha government has plans up splurge a whopping 23,000 crores on a useless giant statue out at sea which will benefit none! My simple question is, have they lost their MENTAL BALANCE after losing their BANK BALANCE? *** Shaken-------------- Sonia-ji threw a party that was attended by no less than 20 like-minded political parties. Like-minded because they all like the idea of a grand alliance against the BJP. But you know what? We, the voters of India, don't like that. In fact, we hate that. Given our past experience with coalition governments, we can only foresee a grand disaster  : smiling allies shaking hands with one another to begin with -- only to end up shaking one another by the throat and leaving us shaking our heads in frustration!   *** Not A Cooked-up Story, OK?------------------------------------- Putin says his grand-dad served as cook to both Lenin and Stalin. Let me guess. When the cooking pleased Lenin, he gave the cook full Marx. On the other hand, when Stalin hated a dish, he turned into SNARL MARX! ***  

[esthermeronobaro]

Rebel Grrrls: Ovarian Psycos

Beautiful Godzilla is a column about my feminist bicycle adventures for SLUG Magazine. Published monthly in print from 2011-2014. Read the original online and in print on page 24.

Ovarian Psycos’ Maryann Aguirre, aka La Fingers, answers a phone somewhere in East LA with unrestrained enthusiasm as I state my name on the other end at the SLUG Headquarters in Salt Lake. 

My own excitement is muted by slight intimidation and the natural awkwardness that accompanies my introduction to any stranger, but something about her voice is familiar, and it greases the stiffness I’m feeling. She’s just arrived at her home after biking from work in the heat, and, having ridden to the office during pit-staining temperatures earlier that day myself, it’s easy to lament her discomfort. As we discuss her bicycle, a Raleigh hybrid she’s pretty fond of, Aguirre speaks rapidly in Spanish-speckled English, her pitch inflecting upwards at the end of each sentence, giving my inquiries a boomerang effect. 

As she explains her nickname, La Fingers, a result of being caught wagging her middle-finger on more than one occasion, I know I’m talking to the right person.

Bikini Kill’s “Rebel Girl” lyrics pop into my head as I listen––”That girl thinks she’s the queen of the neighborhood. She’s got the hottest trike in town. That girl holds her up so high. I think I wanna be her best friend, yeah!”––and I quietly make the (creepy) decision to friend request her later. Feeling conversational, I stray from the long list of chronological questions I’ve typed up, but Aguirre wants to stick to the plan––she’s been chosen to represent the Ovas in this particular interview, and she’s gonna do it right.

Though Aguirre tells me she has only been a part of the “womyn and womyn identified” Los Angeles bike crew for about a year, the Ovarian Psycos celebrated two years of female-empowered radicalness over the summer. The group was founded by Xela de la X, aka Cihuatl Ce, for similar reasons as many other female organizers, including myself: to provide a safe space for women (particularly women of color) within a very male-dominated community. Of course, their mission statement, goals and organization are much more ambitious and resourceful than my attempts have ever been, but I’ll get to the deep stuff in a moment. What initially attracted me to the Ovas, after the lovely Elizabeth Lopez Medina linked me to their merch page, was their deliciously deviant slogan: 

“Ovaries so big, we don’t need no fucking balls.”

Yeah, yeah, feminism is about equality, yadda yadda––but the Ovarian Psycos are far from being the he-man haterz hypocritically correct ding-dongs are gonna make them out to be. Aguirre tells me the slogan came about organically and conscientiously, and was met with mostly positive feedback. “We’re not gonna have a fuckin’ ‘ride my bike and I feel so free!’ kind of slogan,” she says. “No––ovaries so big, we don’t need no fuckin’ balls!” Aguirre’s voice gets louder and she loses the questioning inflection as she explains the group’s target demographic.

“We try to be particular with the words that we choose to use because we’re trying to hit certain kinds of women,” she says. “Not just women who are just like ‘oh yeah, cool, I like to ride my bike,’ [but] women who need the sisterhood and the bonding … ‘at-risk’ society.” 

Aguirre drops down an octave as she opens up about her own background, laying it out for me in a matter-of-fact kind of list. She’s 22-years-old, Chicana, and a mother of a 4-and-a-half-year-old, working full time. She’s had a rough life, growing up in the hood with an abusive parent, pregnant at 16. “It’s not just to go and ride our bikes,” she continues. “It’s much deeper than that. We’re trying to outreach to women [whom] society has decided are not the fucking top girl––they’re the fuck-ups.”

Ovarian Psycos’ mission statement shakes any doubts that this group of ladies doesn’t mean business. They claim to organize and cycle “for the purpose of healing our communities physically, emotionally and spiritually, by addressing pertinent issues through cycling,” and they have every aspect of this statement covered in just one of their many events––the Luna Ride. Surprisingly their only monthly “womyn and womyn-identified only” ride, the Luna Ride happens every full moon at sundown and promotes what Aguirre calls “wrap-around therapy.” “We bring in the physical, which is writing down miles and bike-riding and stuff, but at the end, we bring in a different level, which is why we’re different from other groups,” she says. This includes anything from talks on domestic violence and breast cancer, to special, indigenous ceremonies celebrating the Mayan Moon Goddess, Ix Chel. Aguirre senses my surprise and hesitation at her admittance to worshipping anything other than the two-wheeled whip between her legs, and explains that the ceremony is completely secular and rooted in culture, not theology. 

“We have our ancestral background, so we feel the need to bring in these ceremonies because this is something that some of us have recently found,” she says. “For myself, I recently started being a little more spiritual.” 

My reflex to recoil at the mention of spirituality is a personal flaw stemming from experiences inside the polarizing atmosphere created by Utah’s dominant religion, but Aguirre’s somewhat vague descriptions of the ceremony sound inviting. She’s hesitant to give me details, as it seems to be a personal and sacred experience, but explains it as a talking circle of introspection and celebration of the feminine––emotional and beautiful.

In addition to the Luna Rides, the Ovas also organize a variety of fun, sometimes-themed, co-ed rides, coordinate ladies and trans shop nights similar to Salt Lake’s own ladies nights at the Bicycle Collective, and table at a variety of community events. The Ovas are also currently seeking out their own space, a “bicycle womb” of sorts, Aguirre says, collaborating with the Boyle Heights Collaborative, funded through the California Endowment. All of this requires a lot of structure and organizing, and as Aguirre explains their leadership hierarchy, I can’t believe these women aren’t running the country yet––seriously, if this nation has any hope of surviving the next 50 years, it’s in the Ovarian Psycos. 

The Ovas operate successfully as a decentralized form of government that changes seasonally. 

The group as a whole is called the Ovarian Psycos Cycle Brigade, and it includes every man and woman who shows up to the rides and events. Group decisions are monitored by a Core Collective, made up of seven central figures and six SLITS (Sister Leaders In Training), who attend meetings every other week. The leadership heads, dubbed the Left and Right Ovaries (LRO), serve as co-chairs for the group and change with the seasons. One is a self-appointed volunteer, the other is chosen randomly from a hat, and their main purpose is to host the bi-weekly meetings. At these meetings, the Ovas discuss events, create agendas, decide how they want to be portrayed (pick someone to respond to that annoying Utah girl who keeps hassling them about an interview), and do “clit checks”––making sure everyone’s doing their fair share and getting shit done. The Ovas also have committees responsible for different aspects of the group, and Aguirre is currently part of the Outreach Committee as well as the Core Collective, handling much of the tabling, social media and, thankfully, interviews. What truly brings success to the group is their dedication to a worthwhile cause. “I don’t get paid for this, this is from the heart. As much stress as it might be, at the end of the day, none of us would be doing this if we weren’t getting our energy and our strength through our hearts and what we believe in,” says Aguirre. “It’s much deeper than how many likes we can get on Facebook.”

Aguirre shows more and more enthusiasm as we talk about events, and when I finally bring up Clitoral Mass, she nearly reaches through the phone and excitedly shakes my shoulders, telling me how amazing the event’s gonna be. Though Clitoral Mass, the female empowered version of Critical Mass, is a long-established, international event, (at the time of this interview) the Ovarian Psycos are organizing LA’s first-ever to coincide with the blue moon on August 31. “We just thought it was perfect!” says Aguirre, as the blue moon only happens every two to three years, and is surrounded by much of the folklore the Ovas subscribe to. I nearly fall off my chair when she gives me the date, as it happens alongside a previously planned trip to LA. Aguirre immediately exclaims that I HAVE to come, and asks if I need somewhere to stay, or if I’ll need a bike, explaining that they’ve set up a registry on their website for those coming into town for the big event. By the time this issue hits stands, I’ll have been a part of LA’s first Clitoral Mass, riding alongside a group of women who share my love of cycling and sisterhood.

I’ve been on the phone with Aguirre for over an hour as the interview begins to wrap up, and she feels like an old friend. I’m completely charmed by her attitude and sincerity: 

“I just gotta go where I gotta go, and I gotta do what I gotta do, and no man’s gonna fuckin’ stop me,” she says at one point in our discussion, completely sealing the deal on that friend request, which I now get to make in person. 

I ask her one last, heavy hitting question: “What does it mean to be an Ovarian Psyco?” Aguirre goes quiet for a moment. “Being an Ovarian Psyco is not necessary just for women, anyone can be an Ova,” she begins slowly. “Someone who’s proud of themselves and proud of who they are. Being an Ovarian Psyco doesn’t mean that you ride a bike or that you’re a mad cyclist, that you can write down miles. Being an Ovarian Psyco is more of a state of mind—it’s an identity. It’s the way I identify myself, just like I choose to identify myself as a Chicana. It’s not hating men, it’s being proud of who you are, taking charge of yourself, your body, your surroundings and loving your community and giving back.”

At the end, as I describe my own bicycle group, Salty Spokes, and complain to Aguirre how difficult and frustrating it is to organize events sometimes, she gives me exactly what I need to hear. “One person didn’t make Ovarian Psycos what it is. It took time and it took the heart of different women to start structuring it to what you see and what we do.”

Bikini Kill said it best: 

“That girl thinks she’s the queen of the neighborhood. I got news for you––she is!”

Check out the online gallery for some photos of Clitoral Mass, and find the Ovarian Psycos on the web at ovarianpsycos.com.

[sweetlifetownsville]

The Local Government Godzilla: Should The CCC Be Taking A Closer Look At The Money-Grubbing Activities Of The LGAQ?

But even if the CCC isnt bothered, you should be. The Magpie has a beak around to warn of actual or threatened raids on the ratepayers piggy banks with money-spinning schemes that really benefit no one but the LGAQ itself. Also, a look back down memory lane at solicitor Barry Taylors efforts to bring to Townsville a business urger who is now awaiting sentence next month for corruption connected to the Ipswich Council. And not unrelated, in a moment of clarity, The Magpie realises that this sorry episode was the catalyst for Taylors pathological hatred of the old bird, which continues to this day with a spiteful legal vendetta. The Pie will explain how it all fits. Some sobering statistics about the real Real Estate situation in Townsville, with some graphs the Bulletin is too coy to share with you. And for those who enjoy our now regular Trump gallery, A BONUS a few select pictorial comments on Britains Brexit fiasco. But first Even Buffoons Can Occasionally Be Funny (as The Magpie Knows) Theres been a lot of huffing, puffing and posturing about Clive Colonel Blimp Palmer during the week. First there was the hissy fit by some over Palmers text message saying if he gets back onto the parliamentary plush, he will move to ban such political texting as this.

The Magpie got one, and the old birds instant reaction? Roaring laughter. Lets give Ol Lardarse a couple of brownie points the text is one of the funniest, and surely intentional, jokes of the current election campaign. Unsurprisingly, there was instant babble about hypocrisy which came thick and fast from the pompous chatterati navel gazers, but the Pie will take his laughs where he can get them, and salutes whoever thought up this one for Palmers doomed campaign (possibly someone called S. Sokolova, who authorised the text for the UAP). In fact, doomed causes seem to be a recurring theme this week for Clive, who announced he was giving a dinner dance for a select few Towns-villains to celebrate Titanic ll the return of the legend. Sad when someone has to promise free food and booze to get them to just turn up. And the general feeling is whatever sort of guest selection process that was bubbling around behind the Palmer brow, if you didnt get an invite, then you were not considered of merit or value to Clive.

But when it became known amongst our movers and shakers who was in and who was out, it was a matter of do we laugh or cry was it a hot ticket, or a hot potato ticket, to be dropped immediately? Being favoured by Palmer is something many would like to be quiet about, but then, neither is being left out of a fabulous free food fight, ones ego can be buffeted by such neglect. Many would have loved an invite if for no other reason it have the unlikely option to RSVP sod off. But Bentley for one believes it will a unique experience, with special attire for dancers.

The highlight of the night for Clive will be when the adoring and grateful throng gather around him to sing what he will think is a fitting tribute to him, a rousing rendition of the Titanic hymn, Nearer My God To Thee. What Starts Out As A Good Idea Doesnt Always End Up That Way.

The Local Government Association of Queensland has been around since 1896, and for the most part, has been a valuable and necessary lobby group for all Queensland councils. Councils pay an annual fee to belong to the LGAQ (Townsville pays around $250K annually), membership is voluntary but all 77 Queensland councils are members. In total, they pay $35million annually in membership fees. The smaller outfits get value from matters such as insurance deals and other areas where the Associations clout can be brought to bear. But about 10 years ago, under the leadership of former Townsville council executive and now the Association CEO Greg Hallam, it was decided that there were more lucrative fields in which the Associations leverage with such a captive (albeit voluntary) membership could be used to build a significant commercial operation. Put simply, the organisation decided to become commercial entrepreneurs.

LGAQ CEO Greg Hallam And boy, did they ever. Figures for 2016 show there was a massive bump in revenues, jumping from $46m to $73m, a goodly chunk of this coming from their commercial procurement arm Local Buy (that includes the $35m membership revenue). In simple terms, Local Buy has screened and listed (for a fee) various businesses from across the state, all of whom can then by-pass the tender process and submit direct quotes for contracts to any of the 77 council members. On the face of it, this saves councils money in avoiding the costly procurement work of tendering and so on. But it also sounds like an invitation to corruption on a grand scale. The Pie has no evidence of or suggesting there is, such activity, but looking at the process, there doesnt seem to be a foolproof safeguard against some expensive jiggery-pokery if someone wanted a new spinnaker for the yacht. But does it save councils money? Local Buy is anything but since it opens up work to the whole of Queensland, often bypassing truly local businesses in the highly selective process which requires a fee for ticking the right boxes (literally, apparently). Local Buy takes a cut of the contract amount of the winning quote usually 10% but The Pie is told sometimes more. Of course, since this is all above board and known, what do the quoters do? They of course factor the 10% in and add it on to their quote, in many cases wiping out any significant savings for the council involved, as well in some instances, as denying many a rate paying, money-spending locals a job . This has caused a great deal of angst here in Townsville, whose mayor is a $32K plus a year LGAQ director, and whose sidekick (now on what seems permanent leave), Stephen The Screaming Midget Beckett, is reported to have had loud abusive outbursts with local business people who have complained about the situation. And to what end is all this? Theres a great deal of money flowing into the coffers of the Association, and they arent shy of shouting themselves lavish overseas jollies disguised as work studies. Why does a lobby group want to be so entreprenurial? Do they want to reduce council membership to zero on the user pays basis (yeah, right), or some witty cynic might suggest, as a lobby group, for a bribery pool? (Just a joke, Mr Hallam, put down the phone.) But there is a more troubling aspect to this arrangement, apart from freezing out local contractors and permanent local workers rather than special workforce brought in for a set amount of time before disappearing back wherever they came from.

If you care about strong local voice in Townsvilles affairs, it would well to be wary of a crowd called Propel Partnerships, who appear to be getting into bed with the LGAQ. Propels buzz-word blurbs try to disguise their activities by describing themselves as a shared services company and pepper their media releases with such euphemisms as fully integrated customer services; Propel Partnerships is simply a profit-driven, out-sourcing business. Current (or possibly former by now) chairman Jim Soorley, that old Labor stager from way back in Brissy, had his mate Carl Wulff, the then CEO of Liverpool Council in Sydney (now awaiting sentence in chokey for bribery in the Ipswich scandal) enter into an agreement that has ended up with the NSW Crime and Corruption Commission. This sort of thing can cost local jobs and introduce a totally remote, sometimes hostile letter-of-the-law approach to dealings with staff and with the local community in such areas as rates, payroll services (shades of Qld Health yikes!) and licensing. And not a chance of a face-to-face session of negotiation. This is an extension of the popular Big Brother move in business, a model that even further removes the public from reasonable (and reasonably expected) interaction with their council. To understand what happens in both these centralisation scenario, one need look further than the dear old Townsville Bulletin, which has been so savagely ravished by Ruperts money-hungry minions and sloppy reporting staff directed from Holt Street in Sydney, a paper which hilariously subbed in NZ, Mumbai, the Phillipines or Brisbane. Of course, one attraction for councils in this model is that it does away with the necessity of either engagement or accountability with the people who elected them or provided their jobs. This is the rapidly emerging tip of a massive iceberg, with Greg Hallam and his board deciding rather than try and fight off a competitor in an money-sinkhole business battle, instead join forces and share a cut of a captive pie. This is obvious when Hallam gave this ringing endorsement : The work of Propel Partnerships ensured that councils were ableto realise efficiencies in their operations while remaining in touch with the needs of their communities. Im confident that Propel has the right formula to bring success to any local government wanting to havethe best customer service, he said. This type of service clearly does no such thing as remaining in touch with the needs of their communities quite the opposite . Mr Hallams self-serving ideas of best customer service and that of the general public may widely differ laughably so. Saving money, especially public funds, is in most instances an admirable goal, but in this case, it is just another legalised rort of dubious value: and it is actually doubtful that the average ratepayer gets a single cents benefit therell always be reasons found not to lower ratesand charges. So be wary of this sort of further alienation of individual communities by the robotic, rorting remote control of more aspects of our lives. More Lessons To Be Learned From Post-Pisasale Ipswich Before we leave this subject, check this out.

Those figures are mind-boggling and it could easily happen here unless we are on our toes after all, before his downfall, Pisasale was lionized by Jenny Hill, who said she wanted Townsville to be more like his Ipswich. It probably is, but the CCC just hasnt found out about it. And this sort of lark dovetails nicely with the cold, callous restructure advocated in the Jenny Hill-0commissioned Nous Report. And boy, hasnt that Ipswich decision put Hallams panties in a bunch. The LGAQ chief seems somewhat spooked by the Ipswich scandal coming so close to home, and used Trumps favourite trope to discourage any close examination of local government in Queensland.

That mentioned head is of course Hallam, and it could be said, on the evidence of other corruption in councils, that the word pinhead could also apply to him. Maybe the CCC might start taking an interest in the LGAQ and all those tens of millions. Now that would be interesting. Historical Snapshot: Barry Taylor And One Of His Mates Yesteryear

On the left, the bloke that looks like his got the loser of a cat fight on his head, thats the Carl Wulff that was Jim Soorlys pal at Liverpool Council before Wulff headed north to Ipswich. And of greater interest to us here in the ville is the bloke on the right. Thats Wayne Myers, a seriously well-connected go-between linking corporate life to a number of movers and shakers in the Queensland ALP. Mr Myers has pleaded guilty to corruption in connection with the Ipswich council he has admitted he facilitated bribes to go to his co-offenders who have also pleaded guilty. He will be sentenced next month when well see just how well connected he is. But heres an interesting little bit of nostalgia Mr Myers is no stranger to Townsville, or to legal fee gouger Barry the Legal Foghorn Taylor.

Back in the early noughties, maybe 2004, Meyers rode into Townsville with the hope of siphoning a good chunk of public money into his community telco business, which was being driven out of non-performing mining minnow Rennison. It was a classic case of the Mates Economy. Myer recruited local Labor fundraiser and Mooney confrere Barry Taylor to corral a bunch of bizoids into his boardroom to hustle the dollars. Each chipped in $20k (including apparently Mrs Foghorn more on that in a minute) and then Myers went about trying to convince His Radiance Mayor Mooney that the ratepayers should (1) chip in an interest-free loan of $250k, (2) $20k of straight-up equity, and (3) commit to a long-term deal for all of the Councils telecommunications needs to the new company.

As things transpired, His Radiance, in his pre-meltdown years, had the good sense to have the matter properly researched by his then IT chief Anthony Wilson, who quickly nixed the deal offered by Myers and Taylor. Despite a lot of aww, cmon, mate, old buddy, pal entreaties, Mooney said no. In fact, The Pie was told that Mooney thought the whole thing a bad joke. The deal on the table was a dud. Myers model guaranteed fees to Rennison first and before anyone else; would have delivered sub-par service and cost outcomes to Council (Council could and did do much better); never budgeted for a repayment of the proposed loan; and didnt have a cent of interest for Council. Poor old Richard Spiderman Ferry had become the chairman of a local business he knew nothing about. He was left carrying the can, when the business model proved a failure. There is no information about what happened to any monies that may have been handed over, but you can bet Bazza put in a bill for any legals. What Myers (and Taylor, who mustve surely twigged to what Myers was up to if he hadfnt twigged, doesnt say much for his legal or business radar) tried to get away with was an arrangement where Rennison re-sold Optus Services to NQ Telco, and took a clip. Too many layers with too thin a set of margins doomed the activity from day one. Myers went on his way, and Bazza carried on his hosting of other southern white shoe brigaders and their dubious schemes, notably the disgraced fraudster Craig Gore (currently fled to Sweden in the hope of avoiding jail on multiple charges of financial fraud), who risibly said he would put in a canal estate in the duck pond in front of the casino. Considering what happed later with Port Hinchinbrook, Townsville really dodged a bullet there when that all fell flat, but no thanks to Mr Taylor. But All This Has Led To A Personal Revelation For The Pie The Magpie has never fully understood the seething animosity that has driven Taylor on a vendetta against him that continues in the courts to this day. Barry on several occasions over the years, had threatened to sue me, but was never able to say for what (he was drunk on two occasions). Of course, he was all hot air at that stage because Bazza was never brave enough in his bluster to take on News Ltd, for whom I worked at the time. When Peter Gleeson came to town, he was in Barrys pocket even before he arrived, with his wife pre-promised a cushy job with Enema Legal. I was puzzled that a boisterous boofhead like myself could attract such venom. At one stage, Taylor had Gleeson direct me to delete a quite harmless mention of him he had heard I was to include in the Magpie column (the comment simply said he had bought a multi-million dollar property in Noosa, and Barry said it could damage his reputation in Townsville his what, you laugh?) that was only time any editor interfered in any of my opinion columns for personal and not legal reasons. In that incidence, Taylor sent in a handwritten letter which Gleeson showed me (appalling writing and grammar) that strangely said that I was waging a campaign against his family. I didnt, and dont know his family, and quickly proved in the papers computer system that I had mentioned Taylor a total of 7 times in 8 years, none of them derogatory. I mentioned his wife in passing once when I wrote that she was the director of a company THAT HAD PUT $20k INTO A DUBIOUS TELCO BUSINESS WITH THE COUNCIL! Nothing illegal or even untoward was suggested, except that I didnt think it was a good idea. So there we have it. That must have been the start of it all, Baz not only being caught out in the subsequently failed telco venture, but that I had revealed he had inveigled his missus to whack up some cash as well (through a company of which she was a director, as I remember). Totally harmless, just a bit of local gossip, but somehow, Barry became as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. His bluster continued down the years, including threatening to arrange a boycott of Michels restaurant if they didnt drop their advertising on this blog. (They did drop the ads, he was a valuable albeit much disliked customer, but were happy to let me keep the couple of hundred they had paid.) And so it goes on still, he talked poor old Rabieh Krayem into suing me for alleged libel, knowing full well that I have no money or assets to pay 100th of the ludicrous $300,000 claimed. Well, Baz, hatred comes at a cost, because you didnt reckon on two highly principled and incensed lawyer friends who offered to defend me because they cannot abide bullying, especially legal bullying like trying to spuriously involve my daughter on a technicality in matters that dont even remotely concern her. That alone was a clear measure of your craven behaviour and that of the ninny Venesa Gleeson (Typos wife) as a mother herself, youd think she might have some scruples, but alas, she will use the Hitler excuse I was just following orders least the Court of Appeal has chucked out that bit of vicious nonsense. Rabieh, make sure you have it in writing that Barry is doing this for nothing for you, and that it really, as a mutual friend told me, purely Barrys show. Otherwise, those Nudgee fees for your two lads may well end in up in the Taylor bank account in Noosa. The Townsville Property Market Will Be Hunky Dory In 2019, Says The Astonisher. As the Hotels Combined teddy bear says on telly Really? Dont believe everything Mr Convincing tells you.

Since the City Economist, David Lynch, seems largely silent, heres a chart showing building approvals for 2018 (December numbers not available yet). The data is from the Councils own website.

One could do some extra work and show the comparisons for the previous year, or two for that matter, but why take work away from Lynchy. To summarise: to the 11 months, in 2017 there were 641 dwelling approvals. In 2018 there were 432. For those numerically inclined thats 209 fewer or 30.2% less in number. And gee, I thought the stadium was going to be the one catalyst that would turn the whole show around. The one catalyst claim came from none other than the muppets at Enterprise House (where Mr Lynch used to work.) And to cap things off, The Pie offers these self-explanatory charts.

However, the Astonisher persists with its cheery inanities, but raises an interesting pictorial question. One of the spangled cheer leaders of this self-serving guff is this bloke

Propertyology managing director Simon Presley A propertyologist sorely in need of a psychologist and some serious sartorial advice. Seriously, are you going to believe a bloke who decides to sit in the middle of a busy Brisbane road, with an empty chair next to him to signify that no one else is that dopey. Keep it up, Mr Presley and youll soon be joining your namesake. Captain Towns May Have Been A Blackbirder But At least we have tucked his statue away in a discreet corner, but not those right-wing race-baiters up in Cairns. They have even got Captain Cook throwing a big Nazi salute.

Finally, Not One But Two Mini-Galleries On Overseas Matters The first is the Brexit hullabaloo, which is far from over, but has been a cartoonists cornucopia. Heres four of the best.

And That Leads Us Into The Week In Trumpistan What a difference a few hundred metres makes. Because of his tantrum induced government shut-down, Trump was without catering services to entertain a visiting football team. So as a man addicted to whoppers, he called in Burger King to provide the food for the boys (he couldve just as easily gone with Maccas, asking his guests You want lies with that?)

And just down the road in DC at the very same time, there was a food line of Federal employees who havent been paid that stretched around the block of this massive federal building.

So its true what they say about America being a land of contrasts. That issue continued to dominate the visual commentary of the week, but the New Yorker knew who was needed to sort out demon Donny.

And so it goes .. Thats it for this week, Nesters, and remember that comments run throughout the week, have your say, there was a very lively thread on the council getting involved in the citys mental health work (some hilarious) and theres plenty of fodder in this weeks Nest. And The Pie is loathe to say it, but times are a bit skinny in the Nest at the moment, with a few blog bills hitting the deck since Christmas, so any help with a donation would be greatly appreciated. The how to donate button is below. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/the-local-government-godzilla-should-the-ccc-be-taking-a-closer-look-at-the-money-grubbing-activities-of-the-lgaq/

[sweetlifetownsville]

The Local Government Godzilla: Should The CCC Be Taking A Closer Look At The Money-Grubbing Activities Of The LGAQ?

But even if the CCC isnt bothered, you should be. The Magpie has a beak around to warn of actual or threatened raids on the ratepayers piggy banks with money-spinning schemes that really benefit no one but the LGAQ itself. Also, a look back down memory lane at solicitor Barry Taylors efforts to bring to Townsville a business urger who is now awaiting sentence next month for corruption connected to the Ipswich Council. And not unrelated, in a moment of clarity, The Magpie realises that this sorry episode was the catalyst for Taylors pathological hatred of the old bird, which continues to this day with a spiteful legal vendetta. The Pie will explain how it all fits. Some sobering statistics about the real Real Estate situation in Townsville, with some graphs the Bulletin is too coy to share with you. And for those who enjoy our now regular Trump gallery, A BONUS a few select pictorial comments on Britains Brexit fiasco. But first Even Buffoons Can Occasionally Be Funny (as The Magpie Knows) Theres been a lot of huffing, puffing and posturing about Clive Colonel Blimp Palmer during the week. First there was the hissy fit by some over Palmers text message saying if he gets back onto the parliamentary plush, he will move to ban such political texting as this.

The Magpie got one, and the old birds instant reaction? Roaring laughter. Lets give Ol Lardarse a couple of brownie points the text is one of the funniest, and surely intentional, jokes of the current election campaign. Unsurprisingly, there was instant babble about hypocrisy which came thick and fast from the pompous chatterati navel gazers, but the Pie will take his laughs where he can get them, and salutes whoever thought up this one for Palmers doomed campaign (possibly someone called S. Sokolova, who authorised the text for the UAP). In fact, doomed causes seem to be a recurring theme this week for Clive, who announced he was giving a dinner dance for a select few Towns-villains to celebrate Titanic ll the return of the legend. Sad when someone has to promise free food and booze to get them to just turn up. And the general feeling is whatever sort of guest selection process that was bubbling around behind the Palmer brow, if you didnt get an invite, then you were not considered of merit or value to Clive.

But when it became known amongst our movers and shakers who was in and who was out, it was a matter of do we laugh or cry was it a hot ticket, or a hot potato ticket, to be dropped immediately? Being favoured by Palmer is something many would like to be quiet about, but then, neither is being left out of a fabulous free food fight, ones ego can be buffeted by such neglect. Many would have loved an invite if for no other reason it have the unlikely option to RSVP sod off. But Bentley for one believes it will a unique experience, with special attire for dancers.

The highlight of the night for Clive will be when the adoring and grateful throng gather around him to sing what he will think is a fitting tribute to him, a rousing rendition of the Titanic hymn, Nearer My God To Thee. What Starts Out As A Good Idea Doesnt Always End Up That Way.

The Local Government Association of Queensland has been around since 1896, and for the most part, has been a valuable and necessary lobby group for all Queensland councils. Councils pay an annual fee to belong to the LGAQ (Townsville pays around $250K annually), membership is voluntary but all 77 Queensland councils are members. In total, they pay $35million annually in membership fees. The smaller outfits get value from matters such as insurance deals and other areas where the Associations clout can be brought to bear. But about 10 years ago, under the leadership of former Townsville council executive and now the Association CEO Greg Hallam, it was decided that there were more lucrative fields in which the Associations leverage with such a captive (albeit voluntary) membership could be used to build a significant commercial operation. Put simply, the organisation decided to become commercial entrepreneurs.

LGAQ CEO Greg Hallam And boy, did they ever. Figures for 2016 show there was a massive bump in revenues, jumping from $46m to $73m, a goodly chunk of this coming from their commercial procurement arm Local Buy (that includes the $35m membership revenue). In simple terms, Local Buy has screened and listed (for a fee) various businesses from across the state, all of whom can then by-pass the tender process and submit direct quotes for contracts to any of the 77 council members. On the face of it, this saves councils money in avoiding the costly procurement work of tendering and so on. But it also sounds like an invitation to corruption on a grand scale. The Pie has no evidence of or suggesting there is, such activity, but looking at the process, there doesnt seem to be a foolproof safeguard against some expensive jiggery-pokery if someone wanted a new spinnaker for the yacht. But does it save councils money? Local Buy is anything but since it opens up work to the whole of Queensland, often bypassing truly local businesses in the highly selective process which requires a fee for ticking the right boxes (literally, apparently). Local Buy takes a cut of the contract amount of the winning quote usually 10% but The Pie is told sometimes more. Of course, since this is all above board and known, what do the quoters do? They of course factor the 10% in and add it on to their quote, in many cases wiping out any significant savings for the council involved, as well in some instances, as denying many a rate paying, money-spending locals a job . This has caused a great deal of angst here in Townsville, whose mayor is a $32K plus a year LGAQ director, and whose sidekick (now on what seems permanent leave), Stephen The Screaming Midget Beckett, is reported to have had loud abusive outbursts with local business people who have complained about the situation. And to what end is all this? Theres a great deal of money flowing into the coffers of the Association, and they arent shy of shouting themselves lavish overseas jollies disguised as work studies. Why does a lobby group want to be so entreprenurial? Do they want to reduce council membership to zero on the user pays basis (yeah, right), or some witty cynic might suggest, as a lobby group, for a bribery pool? (Just a joke, Mr Hallam, put down the phone.) But there is a more troubling aspect to this arrangement, apart from freezing out local contractors and permanent local workers rather than special workforce brought in for a set amount of time before disappearing back wherever they came from.

If you care about strong local voice in Townsvilles affairs, it would well to be wary of a crowd called Propel Partnerships, who appear to be getting into bed with the LGAQ. Propels buzz-word blurbs try to disguise their activities by describing themselves as a shared services company and pepper their media releases with such euphemisms as fully integrated customer services; Propel Partnerships is simply a profit-driven, out-sourcing business. Current (or possibly former by now) chairman Jim Soorley, that old Labor stager from way back in Brissy, had his mate Carl Wulff, the then CEO of Liverpool Council in Sydney (now awaiting sentence in chokey for bribery in the Ipswich scandal) enter into an agreement that has ended up with the NSW Crime and Corruption Commission. This sort of thing can cost local jobs and introduce a totally remote, sometimes hostile letter-of-the-law approach to dealings with staff and with the local community in such areas as rates, payroll services (shades of Qld Health yikes!) and licensing. And not a chance of a face-to-face session of negotiation. This is an extension of the popular Big Brother move in business, a model that even further removes the public from reasonable (and reasonably expected) interaction with their council. To understand what happens in both these centralisation scenario, one need look further than the dear old Townsville Bulletin, which has been so savagely ravished by Ruperts money-hungry minions and sloppy reporting staff directed from Holt Street in Sydney, a paper which hilariously subbed in NZ, Mumbai, the Phillipines or Brisbane. Of course, one attraction for councils in this model is that it does away with the necessity of either engagement or accountability with the people who elected them or provided their jobs. This is the rapidly emerging tip of a massive iceberg, with Greg Hallam and his board deciding rather than try and fight off a competitor in an money-sinkhole business battle, instead join forces and share a cut of a captive pie. This is obvious when Hallam gave this ringing endorsement : The work of Propel Partnerships ensured that councils were ableto realise efficiencies in their operations while remaining in touch with the needs of their communities. Im confident that Propel has the right formula to bring success to any local government wanting to havethe best customer service, he said. This type of service clearly does no such thing as remaining in touch with the needs of their communities quite the opposite . Mr Hallams self-serving ideas of best customer service and that of the general public may widely differ laughably so. Saving money, especially public funds, is in most instances an admirable goal, but in this case, it is just another legalised rort of dubious value: and it is actually doubtful that the average ratepayer gets a single cents benefit therell always be reasons found not to lower ratesand charges. So be wary of this sort of further alienation of individual communities by the robotic, rorting remote control of more aspects of our lives. More Lessons To Be Learned From Post-Pisasale Ipswich Before we leave this subject, check this out.

Those figures are mind-boggling and it could easily happen here unless we are on our toes after all, before his downfall, Pisasale was lionized by Jenny Hill, who said she wanted Townsville to be more like his Ipswich. It probably is, but the CCC just hasnt found out about it. And this sort of lark dovetails nicely with the cold, callous restructure advocated in the Jenny Hill-0commissioned Nous Report. And boy, hasnt that Ipswich decision put Hallams panties in a bunch. The LGAQ chief seems somewhat spooked by the Ipswich scandal coming so close to home, and used Trumps favourite trope to discourage any close examination of local government in Queensland.

That mentioned head is of course Hallam, and it could be said, on the evidence of other corruption in councils, that the word pinhead could also apply to him. Maybe the CCC might start taking an interest in the LGAQ and all those tens of millions. Now that would be interesting. Historical Snapshot: Barry Taylor And One Of His Mates Yesteryear

On the left, the bloke that looks like his got the loser of a cat fight on his head, thats the Carl Wulff that was Jim Soorlys pal at Liverpool Council before Wulff headed north to Ipswich. And of greater interest to us here in the ville is the bloke on the right. Thats Wayne Myers, a seriously well-connected go-between linking corporate life to a number of movers and shakers in the Queensland ALP. Mr Myers has pleaded guilty to corruption in connection with the Ipswich council he has admitted he facilitated bribes to go to his co-offenders who have also pleaded guilty. He will be sentenced next month when well see just how well connected he is. But heres an interesting little bit of nostalgia Mr Myers is no stranger to Townsville, or to legal fee gouger Barry the Legal Foghorn Taylor.

Back in the early noughties, maybe 2004, Meyers rode into Townsville with the hope of siphoning a good chunk of public money into his community telco business, which was being driven out of non-performing mining minnow Rennison. It was a classic case of the Mates Economy. Myer recruited local Labor fundraiser and Mooney confrere Barry Taylor to corral a bunch of bizoids into his boardroom to hustle the dollars. Each chipped in $20k (including apparently Mrs Foghorn more on that in a minute) and then Myers went about trying to convince His Radiance Mayor Mooney that the ratepayers should (1) chip in an interest-free loan of $250k, (2) $20k of straight-up equity, and (3) commit to a long-term deal for all of the Councils telecommunications needs to the new company.

As things transpired, His Radiance, in his pre-meltdown years, had the good sense to have the matter properly researched by his then IT chief Anthony Wilson, who quickly nixed the deal offered by Myers and Taylor. Despite a lot of aww, cmon, mate, old buddy, pal entreaties, Mooney said no. In fact, The Pie was told that Mooney thought the whole thing a bad joke. The deal on the table was a dud. Myers model guaranteed fees to Rennison first and before anyone else; would have delivered sub-par service and cost outcomes to Council (Council could and did do much better); never budgeted for a repayment of the proposed loan; and didnt have a cent of interest for Council. Poor old Richard Spiderman Ferry had become the chairman of a local business he knew nothing about. He was left carrying the can, when the business model proved a failure. There is no information about what happened to any monies that may have been handed over, but you can bet Bazza put in a bill for any legals. What Myers (and Taylor, who mustve surely twigged to what Myers was up to if he hadfnt twigged, doesnt say much for his legal or business radar) tried to get away with was an arrangement where Rennison re-sold Optus Services to NQ Telco, and took a clip. Too many layers with too thin a set of margins doomed the activity from day one. Myers went on his way, and Bazza carried on his hosting of other southern white shoe brigaders and their dubious schemes, notably the disgraced fraudster Craig Gore (currently fled to Sweden in the hope of avoiding jail on multiple charges of financial fraud), who risibly said he would put in a canal estate in the duck pond in front of the casino. Considering what happed later with Port Hinchinbrook, Townsville really dodged a bullet there when that all fell flat, but no thanks to Mr Taylor. But All This Has Led To A Personal Revelation For The Pie The Magpie has never fully understood the seething animosity that has driven Taylor on a vendetta against him that continues in the courts to this day. Barry on several occasions over the years, had threatened to sue me, but was never able to say for what (he was drunk on two occasions). Of course, he was all hot air at that stage because Bazza was never brave enough in his bluster to take on News Ltd, for whom I worked at the time. When Peter Gleeson came to town, he was in Barrys pocket even before he arrived, with his wife pre-promised a cushy job with Enema Legal. I was puzzled that a boisterous boofhead like myself could attract such venom. At one stage, Taylor had Gleeson direct me to delete a quite harmless mention of him he had heard I was to include in the Magpie column (the comment simply said he had bought a multi-million dollar property in Noosa, and Barry said it could damage his reputation in Townsville his what, you laugh?) that was only time any editor interfered in any of my opinion columns for personal and not legal reasons. In that incidence, Taylor sent in a handwritten letter which Gleeson showed me (appalling writing and grammar) that strangely said that I was waging a campaign against his family. I didnt, and dont know his family, and quickly proved in the papers computer system that I had mentioned Taylor a total of 7 times in 8 years, none of them derogatory. I mentioned his wife in passing once when I wrote that she was the director of a company THAT HAD PUT $20k INTO A DUBIOUS TELCO BUSINESS WITH THE COUNCIL! Nothing illegal or even untoward was suggested, except that I didnt think it was a good idea. So there we have it. That must have been the start of it all, Baz not only being caught out in the subsequently failed telco venture, but that I had revealed he had inveigled his missus to whack up some cash as well (through a company of which she was a director, as I remember). Totally harmless, just a bit of local gossip, but somehow, Barry became as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. His bluster continued down the years, including threatening to arrange a boycott of Michels restaurant if they didnt drop their advertising on this blog. (They did drop the ads, he was a valuable albeit much disliked customer, but were happy to let me keep the couple of hundred they had paid.) And so it goes on still, he talked poor old Rabieh Krayem into suing me for alleged libel, knowing full well that I have no money or assets to pay 100th of the ludicrous $300,000 claimed. Well, Baz, hatred comes at a cost, because you didnt reckon on two highly principled and incensed lawyer friends who offered to defend me because they cannot abide bullying, especially legal bullying like trying to spuriously involve my daughter on a technicality in matters that dont even remotely concern her. That alone was a clear measure of your craven behaviour and that of the ninny Venesa Gleeson (Typos wife) as a mother herself, youd think she might have some scruples, but alas, she will use the Hitler excuse I was just following orders least the Court of Appeal has chucked out that bit of vicious nonsense. Rabieh, make sure you have it in writing that Barry is doing this for nothing for you, and that it really, as a mutual friend told me, purely Barrys show. Otherwise, those Nudgee fees for your two lads may well end in up in the Taylor bank account in Noosa. The Townsville Property Market Will Be Hunky Dory In 2019, Says The Astonisher. As the Hotels Combined teddy bear says on telly Really? Dont believe everything Mr Convincing tells you.

Since the City Economist, David Lynch, seems largely silent, heres a chart showing building approvals for 2018 (December numbers not available yet). The data is from the Councils own website.

One could do some extra work and show the comparisons for the previous year, or two for that matter, but why take work away from Lynchy. To summarise: to the 11 months, in 2017 there were 641 dwelling approvals. In 2018 there were 432. For those numerically inclined thats 209 fewer or 30.2% less in number. And gee, I thought the stadium was going to be the one catalyst that would turn the whole show around. The one catalyst claim came from none other than the muppets at Enterprise House (where Mr Lynch used to work.) And to cap things off, The Pie offers these self-explanatory charts.

However, the Astonisher persists with its cheery inanities, but raises an interesting pictorial question. One of the spangled cheer leaders of this self-serving guff is this bloke

Propertyology managing director Simon Presley A propertyologist sorely in need of a psychologist and some serious sartorial advice. Seriously, are you going to believe a bloke who decides to sit in the middle of a busy Brisbane road, with an empty chair next to him to signify that no one else is that dopey. Keep it up, Mr Presley and youll soon be joining your namesake. Captain Towns May Have Been A Blackbirder But At least we have tucked his statue away in a discreet corner, but not those right-wing race-baiters up in Cairns. They have even got Captain Cook throwing a big Nazi salute.

Finally, Not One But Two Mini-Galleries On Overseas Matters The first is the Brexit hullabaloo, which is far from over, but has been a cartoonists cornucopia. Heres four of the best.

And That Leads Us Into The Week In Trumpistan What a difference a few hundred metres makes. Because of his tantrum induced government shut-down, Trump was without catering services to entertain a visiting football team. So as a man addicted to whoppers, he called in Burger King to provide the food for the boys (he couldve just as easily gone with Maccas, asking his guests You want lies with that?)

And just down the road in DC at the very same time, there was a food line of Federal employees who havent been paid that stretched around the block of this massive federal building.

So its true what they say about America being a land of contrasts. That issue continued to dominate the visual commentary of the week, but the New Yorker knew who was needed to sort out demon Donny.

And so it goes .. Thats it for this week, Nesters, and remember that comments run throughout the week, have your say, there was a very lively thread on the council getting involved in the citys mental health work (some hilarious) and theres plenty of fodder in this weeks Nest. And The Pie is loathe to say it, but times are a bit skinny in the Nest at the moment, with a few blog bills hitting the deck since Christmas, so any help with a donation would be greatly appreciated. The how to donate button is below. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/the-local-government-godzilla-should-the-ccc-be-taking-a-closer-look-at-the-money-grubbing-activities-of-the-lgaq/