Rudd Sighting

Newspoll released figures describing him as "Australia's most popular Prime Minister" ... about five minutes before the man himself received a knock on his office door in the middle of the night (what was he even doing there at that time?) by the "faceless men of the Australian Labor Party", and like a streaker who is surrounded by a dozen, black-clad security guards in the middle of the MCG, was led-off through the Halls of Power with flaming cheeks and helpless, slumped shoulders.

So where does one go when, one minute you're the leader of the free world*, darling of both the Chinese and the Australian political Left (not known for seeing eye-to-eye), and saviour of the Australian Aid and Development Industry; and the next you're ... well, what exactly is he doing now?

Pic: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kevin_Rudd

As it transpires, I find myself watching a lot of children's TV these days, and just this morning I happened to come across a very down-and-out Kevin Rudd, clearly crawling his way back into the work force any way that he can.

Poor Kevin ... I would have thought, in light of Therese's business interests being a worth a bomb, such denigration may have been a little extreme.

* or at-least an un-strategic, economically and geographically insignificant portion of it.

Inglorious Basterd

No prizes for working out where I’m positioned within the pecking order of my organisation; I share an open-plan office ‘pod’ with Dr Crikey, a man whose talents and intellect are inversely proportional to his standards of personal and work-station hygiene.

I wish I had a dollar for every time someone wanders past during the course of a day with a screwed-up nose to offer some ‘totally unexpected and incredibly witty’ remark about Crikey’s “open wardrobe” strewn across the sparse office furniture, and in particular, his sprawling floor display of fragrant, ageing footwear.

But despite the general abhorrence for Dr C’s organic art installation, another colleague, Professor Super, took advantage of Crikey’s characteristic tardiness earlier today by borrowing a black belt from a mouldering pair of daks in order to appropriately accessorise for an important meeting.

They call it ‘glass half full, glass half empty’; it is interesting how one man’s trash can be another’s treasure.

My colleague; “Will do public health work for food”.  Pic: http://theincompetencefiles.blogspot.com

Donkey's gettin' all Gen-Y on yer ass

When you've been married as long as Mrs D and meself, pillow talk tends to extend into all sorts of unexpected realms.  Just the other night, while settling into a soft, warm embrace, I leaned over to whisper some sweet words of love and devotion into My Beloved's petit and pretty ears, to which she sat up, shot me 'the stare', and proceeded to inform me in no uncertain terms that my blog posts are way too long, and in this age of FaceCrock and Twit-er, "no one's ever gonna be desperate or interested enough to wade through all your self-absorbed crap just to get to some flimsy punch line ... and by the way, your breath stinks of onions and beer!".

My injured expression was lost in the sudden darkness of the extinguished light, as was my mumbled, "Sorry Dearest" in the creaking springs of her cold shoulder.  As the snores cranked-up, I got to thinking that it might indeed be fun to be drawn into that which I've always tried to avoid on DonkeyBlog, but which The Kids seem to really love.

So here we are – Post #1 of Donkey's new, daily-ish, "Today I went down to the shops to buy some milk" blog.  Hope you like it so far...

Mrs Donkey: my muse  Pic: http://www.guy-sports.com