poor me

I was going to write some sort of review or response to the Wayne Carey interview on Denton last night, but I’m not sure there’s any point. If you’re interested, you probably saw it yourself and can make up your own mind. If you didn’t watch it, there’s a chance you gave it a miss because to watch it would be in some way to encourage the guy. Makes sense.

I don’t have a lot of time for wife-beating, binge-drinking, best friend’s wife-rooting, footy “personalities” either. I’ve never liked the guy, and last night’s program makes me feel pretty justified in that. He’s a thug and a moron with the self-awareness of a slightly dim slug and the extent to which we as a society held him up as a role model demeans us all.

I haven’t changed my mind one bit on that, but I almost had some sympathy for him last night. He’s in a very difficult place, completely of his own doing, but difficult none the less.

There’s no good end to this particular story: the best we can hope for is that he honestly comes to terms with his actions and makes some attempt at restitution.

Enough on that story. Binge drinking, childhood violence, domestic violence, court cases: it’s all pretty depressing.

Run for the kids
I shelled out for the Herald Sun this morning, always an enlightening experience, in the hopes of seeing my name and initials in print. They were there, and I guess the fleeting rush of seeing that JH - 56:07 193 was enough to justify the $1.10.

I’d like to the think the way the paper came out 12 hours before the results were online is just a coincidence. Ah well, everyone’s gotta make a buck in this dirty old world. Poor old Rupert Murdoch’s obviously short a few bob.