I’d say it’s what separates us, not from the beasts, but the bestial. Creating the future, renewing a learned past - these are reasons to strive. Writing for and with love, taking and framing an image, stretching new melodic skins onto old skeletons of song… it’s how we manage to fly. It’s how we stay you and me, not us and them.
Unlike Osk, who seemed to establish his own tactical task force wherever we lived, scooping up neighbourhood feline troublemakers as sidekicks (including the memorable ginger behemoth Watson, with whom he used to scope the street from the safety of the shed roof), Jelly has the intelligence gathering skills of a sponge cake.
Anyway, somewhere in between my 'and then you should've done this' and 'why didn't you say x and y, rather than z', and 'for the love of monkeys and the general public's eyesight, you didn't honestly wear that heinous shirt did you', something he was saying about the dating extravaganza we were picking to pieces finally penetrated my cloud of self-congratulatory cumulo-waffle.
"Most people don't talk about how dates are progressing as a tender process, do they?" he asked.
"What?"
"She said I was 'part way through the tender process' and that she was judging me on my submission. I'd like to think there was irony involved, and I think at the time I may have given an admittedly weak "haha, yesssss, quite". Looking back, I'd have to conclude, computer says no on the presence of Fabulon or other aids to achieving crisply pressed linen."
Obviously in order to get what you want in life, you have to be wearing kick-ass shoes. It's as simple as that. Imelda Marcos may not have been the nicest person in the world, but the Iron Butterfly knew what she wanted and how to get it - amazing footware. All one thousand and sixty pairs. Nicole Kidman - ditches Tom for Roast Lamb with Mum, and immediately gets her mojo back, because she's out of the ballet flats and into the stilettos before you can say 'Tom Cruise is really, really weird'.
I often think the reason Napoleon divorced Josephine wasn't because she couldn't produce an heir - it was down to the fact that she wore higher heels than he did. Short man syndrome got the better of him (and possibly envy over her shoes).
I realise that with the election finally being called, I should be making pithy (yes, pithy) social commentary about the current political climate and what I think is going to happen in September. But honestly? The Parly House gang make me feel so dispirited at present that I am going to talk about something more believable.
Fairytales.
I wrote an entry a little while ago called 'I'll Get You My Pretty... And Your Little Dog Too' about the Wicked Witch from The Wizard Of Oz. Then yesterday, on Facestalk, I was begging Sleeping Beauty's evil fairy Godmother for some of that fabulous hundred years' sleep (I was really, really, REALLY tired). And it made me start thinking.
Were these so-called 'evil' women truly bad? Or did they just think living in a forest with seven dudes, or talking to mice and singing songs to bluebirds was a little bit doolally?
So here we go. The Abbreviated KS Audit of Fairytale Villianesses. (Clears throat, adjusts microphone). Please note all mention of the word 'evil' will be withheld until the conclusion. I thank you.
The Stepmother and Stepsisters, Cinderella.
So. You arrive at your new squeeze's home with two kids in tow. The new hubby casually turns around in the carriage and says 'Oh by the way sweetcheeks, forgot to mention, I've got a daughter... yeah, she's a bit weird, likes talking to rodents, spends a lot of time singing to them, worships me, thinks you're a real piece of work, doesn't want anything to do with the two girls. Probably should have said something before, sorry about that.'
He then dies and leaves you with the little oddball, who believes in invisible fairy godmothers (what the who now?) and doesn't want to pull her weight around the house. Plus, she thinks only a prince is good enough for her and makes up stupid songs about him which after a while really, really get on your nerves. You have two very unattractive lumps on your hands already. You don't need this crap.
Is it too much to ask her to bake some bread every once in a while? Hell to the no.
Get under that emberella, Cinders.
I thought we were trying to smash the glass ceiling - uh, I mean slipper - anyway...
EVIL FACTOR: Meh. Blended families. So not the Brady Bunch.
The Queen, Snow White
OK, so talking to a mirror is not exactly tip-top on the sanity scale, but if you view it as a fairy-tale form of FaceTime, who are we to judge? Again, there is a clear case of Electra complex going on here with dear Daddy and young Snowball. The whole 'eat her heart thing'... maybe there was a misinterpretation in the text? Let's face it folks, Snow White has to be one of the most annoying 'heroines' in fairytale history. Interrupting the home life of the Village People - uh, I mean the Seven Dwarfs, singing to bluebirds (what is it with these girls and singing to animals - they aren't Francis of Assisi), waiting around for some dude to rescue her...
I might eat her heart. With some fava beans. And a nice chianti.
EVIL FACTOR: Well, a little bit. She should have invested in a good eye cream and some anti-ageing serum. Maybe HRT. Or just got it on with the Huntsman. Snow White is SERIOUSLY annoying though. So can't blame her completely.
The Witch, Hansel and Gretel
Now this one... well! You're living quietly in the woods. You have invested your life's magic savings in a gorgeous cottage - just right for you and the cat. Decorated to your exact specifications by the Muffin Man (who lives on Drury Lane). Then, one morning, you hear 'chomp, chomp, chomp' - and suddenly there's a hole in the living room wall, Foxtel is on the blink, and two fat little kidlets are standing there with gumdrop smeared around their cakeholes.
Bugger that for a game of soldiers.
It's game on. You were really looking forward to the new series of True Blood and now you will miss out on naked Eric.
Don't even bother with the pepper and salt I say. Shove the little piglets straight in the pizza oven.
EVIL FACTOR: Non-existent. Didn't your parents ever tell you lollies were bad for you? You should have listened to them.
So there we have it. Three very badly misjudged women who aren't sitting around waiting for some nancy boy on a white horse to save them. These sisters are poisoning apples all by themselves! You may think otherwise and be on the side of the pretty (weird) young things, but not me. I say bring back the bi- uh, witch.
