Think Global, Act Local
“Think global, act local.” Write a post connecting a global issue to a personal one
Two cheers for me. I’m home, having jumped through all the necessary hoops to prove that I not only have a heart, it’s beating in a manner highly satisfactory to all parties concerned – ie me, the cardiologist and family members insisting I live to 90.
This is pretty miraculous when you consider my physical self and I have treated each other with nose-thumbing disdain for upwards of fifty years, and adds weight to my theory that genetic inheritance trumps more things than medical science gives it credit for. I have obviously inherited my grandmother’s cast-iron constitution, for which I am seriously grateful – provided, of course, I’ve also inherited her ability to hang onto her wits. Time will tell.
I’d have liked to come home to blue skies and a sparkling sea, but Cyclone Marcia is more powerful than I, and although we’re not in her path, thank goodness, we’re likely to be caught up in her unloving coat-tails for the foreseeable future. It’s raining. Hard. As it is in the Northern Territory, where Cyclone Lam crossed the coast within hours of Marcia. In Adelaide, though – 1800km to the south – it’s unbearably hot, while on your side of the world, New York has been snap frozen. Is the weather madder than usual, or do we just know about it real time, which makes it seem madder?
Meanwhile thinking globally here becomes more embarrassing by the day – although Tony Abbott (the PM…Phoney Tony…the wing nut duck… the bot… take your pick or add your own contribution) has been uncharacteristically silent since his deputy was forced to ring her Indonesian counterpart last week. Damage control, you understand: our unbeloved leader didn’t mean what he said/didn’t mean it the way Indonesia thought he meant it/ was having a brain infarct, when he tried a spot of blackmail regarding Australia’s financial aid and the two Australians facing execution in Indonesia this week.
The man stuffs one foot down his throat every time he opens his mouth, and uses the other one to kick out the diplomatic props his ministers have managed to sneak in while he wasn’t looking, to shore up domestic and international relations. We can only hope his gymnastic skills are as poor as his judgement, and he falls on his butt soon enough and hard enough to ensure his removal before he’s managed to have us globally ostracised.