Tagged: party on garth

Nonsensical Sentencing Trust plays the Obi-Wan card

So, the Nonsensical Sentencing Trust wants to set up an anonymous website criticising the decisions of NZ judges, because any guilty verdict handed down to a poor brown person which doesn’t result in hanging is obviously too lenient.

Naturally, this has caused some consternation among the legal fraternity.

But don’t worry, folks, because the SST has now made it clear:  they do not support vigilantism.

For the sake of your braincells, you may choose to append the famous Jedi maxim, “from a certain point of view” after that sentence.

Because this is the same SST whose leader went on the record to defend a rich white dude who chased down and stabbed to death a 15-year-old for the iniquitous crime of tagging a fence.  What was it you said, Garth?

Emery had to “pay a price for what he did” but the 52-year-old was a “different type of offender”.

“I didn’t think he should have gone to jail,” said Mr McVicar.

“That young offender [Pihema] had been doing graffiti before and Emery had been becoming extremely frustrated with it.

But of course, let’s be sensible.  Clearly, Bruce Emery, who saw two young men tagging his fence, took out a knife, and chased them 300m down a road to confront and kill one of them was not a vigilante.

You have to be wearing a mask to be a vigilante.

But let’s credit the SST with this:  at least they’re straight-up, ethical types who never try to weasel out of previously-made statements which are now politically inconvenient.

“We have never supported or advocated vigilantism and we never will” said Ruth Money of Sensible Sentencing Trust this morning. “Garth McVicar has never said that, I have never said that, and no person speaking on behalf of Sensible Sentencing – as opposed to their own personal view – has ever said that” Ms Money said.

Oops.

Shrieking harpies to abort Labour’s election chances

[This post was originally prepared for The Standard, where it was given a very interesting thumbnail image and a fascinating intro paragraph, and promptly attacked by writers of that site for being anti-male and anti-Labour and why didn’t I just be nice to them since they were so kind to set me up as trollbait for pageviews.]

Chris Trotter’s worst nightmare came true on the weekend of 12-13 March, as 70-odd bloody liberal lefties* came together (phwoar) to figure out how we were going to just ruin Labour’s chances of winning the 2011 election.

In short, they vowed to (whisper it) talk about abortion. Loudly. Publicly. This year.

Believe it or not, audience-made-up-of-a-shitload-of-privileged-dudes, New Zealand’s abortion laws are shite, they are outdated, they do fuck up women’s lives, and it is time for a fucking change.

Put this one on for size: you want to buy a car, so naturally you go to a car dealership. But sorry, says the car dealer, the law says first of all you need to go see this auto mechanic so he can sign off your car ownership.

And once you’ve got your appointment the auto dealer looks at you and says well, technically the law says you aren’t really allowed a car. Nope, not even if your last one got stolen and driven off a cliff. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll just put on the form that you’ll go crazy without a car.

Fine, whatever, you say. Being labelled crazy is worth it to get that car. … You can get a car now, right?

Nope. You’ve got to see another auto mechanic. And maybe they’re actually an hour’s drive away and only take appointments on every second Wednesday, but you need a fucking car, so you do what it takes, you lie to your boss, you put the goldfish in cryofreeze, you get to that appointment. And another auto mechanic says no, sorry, you don’t actually qualify for a car, even though you live in an area with no public transport and are employed as a courier. But hey, they’re charitable, they see a lot of people who really, really need cars, so they’ll just tick the “crazy” box again.

[If you’re lucky. You might not be, and then there’s a fun process of shopping around different auto mechanics hoping one will tell you you’re crazy. Only in months containing a J during full moon, though.]

Finally, you can get your car! Except that you have to wait for an appointment at the car dealer. And they’re not even in your town and while they could theoretically give you a nice, efficient car they actually only stock the ones with shitty suspension and brakes that bruise your tailbone and give you constant whiplash.

And it seems so fucking stupid, because you’re a driver, you can choose to buy a car if you need one, often you can’t actually live without one or your job and finances and emotional and physical health require one, and yet the law makes you jump through hoops to get one – and labels you as infantile and crazy into the bargain.

But quit yer bitching, lads. I mean, you can still get a car, even if sometimes you have to fly to Australia for one, so let’s not ruffle any feathers trying to change the law and get you treated like people deserving of dignity.

~

You wouldn’t fucking put up with it. We are not fucking putting up with it. We deserve better and we expect more. And when Labour refuses to take a public stand on this and continue to waffle and the feminists their allies don’t just tick their ballots like drones, Chris Trotter, who I feel almost certain has never had to worry about being pregnant, can just go cry into his fucking moustache about it.

The NZ prochoice movement, gents. Come onboard – because whether you do or not, we mean business.

~

*Left-ness largely assumed but put it this way, no one objected when the conversation veered off into government obligations to put extra funding into healthcare.

QoT can, as always, be found at ideologicallyimpure.wordpress.com, ruminating on state-smashing and why she doesn’t get paid the big bucks to talk crap the way Garth George does.

Same old, same old

Julie at The Hand Mirror pretty much sums up what needs to be said about Garth George’s latest attempt to boost the Herald’s readership through gratuitous offensiveness.

So just a minor point from me:  if your best example of Evil Snooty Maori Looking Down On Their Betters Like They Think They’re People Or Something is … a brown guy walking slowly across a pedestrian crossing? … then you are almost certainly talking out of your ass.

[Actually, I have a bit of sympathy for the moustached one; as a native Aucklander I may frequently be spotted muttering “move like you have a fucking purpose!” at ambling packs of policy wonks along Lambton Quay.]