Shake the yoke of inauspicious stars, someone has had a crack at the PM with an egg at a Country Women’s Association event in Albury.
A barbarous act by a crazed radical. Yet again the humble egg, that treasure box without hinges, was an unwitting player in dastardly jackbootery. Woe betide us. The nation’s fate is paved in yolk and blood.
As with the Anning egging, Australia’s media and political class are tugging their collars like a schvitzing Rodney Dangerfield, lamenting the getting of ‘no respect’.
Forget about it.
There is a gross imbalance in Australia’s ‘political’ violence. On one side, we have the eggers, the recent total sitting at two, who have delivered a scrambled message of discontent and rage at powerful political figures, figures from a political class that also wields violence, but on a much grander and ominous scale.
First, there was Fraser Anning, egg-slapped into meme-orium, becoming a GIF flashpoint for global anti-fascist catharsis. Then today we had ScoMo, C3-PM, shell skimmed as he doted among the CWA tea-cozies.
Shock. Horror. Such disregard for the sacred office of Prime Minister by this anarchic youth. Prime Minister: an office that this kid has probably seen reach a complete term once in her lifetime.
And what kind of violence does the office of Prime Minister partake in?
It is an invisible violence, at least to Australia’s white and wealthy, and thus to our media class.
For almost 20 years Australia’s Prime Ministers have been active dungeon keepers of the nation’s brutal gulag archipelago. Few have reveled in the role as much as Scott Morrison, who is, after all, the current iteration’s gloating mastermind.
We are by now, as citizens, privy to the dark nature of our illegal detention camps. Children as young as ten attempt suicide by immolation, mouths are sewn shut in desperate protest, and minds and bodies are broken by a wheel that we have all had a hand in turning.
It is a violence beyond that of an egg (unbroken) to the head.
Then there is the oppressive violence of inequality—a violence wielded by this government with punitive surety. Robodebt, and the general dismantling of welfare services constitute a unilateral meanness.
To die in penury on the dole is one horror, to take one’s life because an algorithm sends you a letter is something else entirely.
We then twirl through a dizzying nightmare of Indigenous suicide and incarceration rates, disability care cuts, crumbling infrastructure, impossible property prices, and a new class of mega-rich pork barrelers who stretch the tenuous bands of our society beyond livability for anyone but them or their own.
Hovering over all of this is the scientific certainty that our world is ending. The only thing as certain as that truth is this Prime Minister’s disregard for it. For those of us not yet old enough to cash in our franking credits, it is difficult to not look upon the government’s cowardly inaction on (or worse: fuelling of) climate change with anything but gut-churning abhorrence.
To top it all off, the nation’s skewed priorities are laid at our feet like a half-eaten bird by a fogey-riddled media who are more concerned with political access than the revelation of despicable truths.
Woeful, shameful, exhausting stuff – it is a miracle the nation’s young don’t rise up and lock Gen X and above in Twiggy Forrest’s wine cellar.
And you tell us to respect you and these institutions. You demand it. You expect it: respect the office of Prime Minister, Adani, Bill Leak’s legacy, and a god dang racehorse. There is little wonder that me and mine are filled with nothing but contempt … and fistfuls of eggs.
If the Prime Minister, the media, and the other champions of Australia’s status-quo are so keen on respect then they should swallow some of their own neo-liberal piss and damn well earn it.
Until then we only have one thing to ask of you: sunny side up or over easy?