August 24, 2012
I would have more respect for Julia Gillard’s attempt at self-defence yesterday if she hadn’t let herself go with the whole string of name-calling at the end, mixing up Tea Partiers and right-wing nutjobs and all sorts of other bogey-men. (I’m particularly sorry she didn’t use the term ‘swivel-eyed’ because that’s my personal favourite, but maybe next time.)
But what really got my goat was that she played the gender card again. Jules clearly has a problem with being disliked, and she can’t seem to figure out that it’s not because she’s female. It’s because she’s currently heading the most incompetent and wasteful government in Australia’s history, which has just admitted that the mining boom is over and that they’ve spent all the money. (No biggie, though: they’re all going to retire on fat parliamentary pensions while our grandchildren go and work in South American sweatshops).
But let’s humour her for a bit and think about misogyny. Why does she feel so victimised?
Back when Gillard was a young and naïve industrial relations lawyer with promising Labor Party connections (spot the contradiction in terms), she met a card-carrying, tagged-and-monitored misogynist called Bruce Wilson.
Wilson apparently used her quite badly. But Gillard seems to have turned a blind eye to the red flags that popped up early on in that relationship - like, for example, Wilson having a wife and children, as well as an alleged series of other lady friends at the same time. Or him asking her to set up a workplace safety and reform fund which she later described as a re-election slush fund; and then using the money to re-elect himself into a nice house, where there was doubtless plenty of workplace safety and reform while the renovations got done.
Gillard is not the first Labor woman to be screwed both literally and metaphorically by a sexist-pig male unionist. This is something for which the Left is justifiably famous: a quick tour round the Sydney ‘Push’ shows the devastation it wreaked in the lives of its female fellow-travellers. Sexual liberation was strictly one-sided: it was the women who ended up with the black eyes, the STIs and the repeat abortions.
An even quicker tour round the Craig Thomson Wing of exhibits also affords an insight into the male union boss at play. Not a pretty sight, is it? Prostitutes, lavish dinners, binge-drinking, and of course, packing the little woman onto a plane to get her out of the way.
You can say what you like about conservatism being all tea and scones for the ladies. Hell, I’d rather have tea and scones than get hung out to dry around twenty years later because of my 100% willing and consensual four-year relationship with a corrupt leftie misogynist tool, who is now hiding in rural NSW and refusing to answer any questions that might put me in the clear.
PS. Readers might also enjoy:
Philippa Martyr (who is not secretly a man) blogs at Transverse City
The Quadrant Book of Poetry: 2001 - 2010
edited by Les Murray