audentes fortuna iuvat

It was is shaping up to be the court even of the decade, the Cole Inquiry into the AWB Kickback scandal is going from strength to strength, and I am hanging on every new development. I had been almost certain that J’Ho’s Teflon coated government was going to continue to side step the shit storm is behaviour has created but perhaps this time something might actually get through.

For those of you not following this antipodean drama Australias’ monopoly wheat exporter AWB , formally known as the Australian Wheat Board, has been caught very red faced with its hand in the pocket of the UN. It appears that they were knowingly inflating their wheat prices when selling to Iraq and used that overrun to pay over $300M in kickbacks to Saddam Hussein’s regime. It looks like they were not the only company involved in all of this, but to date no formed stools have clung to any of the other players including BHP , Australias’ landmark oil and gas exploration company.

The most significant thing that has come out to date however is that it appears that a number of senior Ministers in the Howard government had close dealings with AWB at the time this was going on. Those potentially involved include Mark Vale; Deputy PM, Leader of the Nationals and Trade Minister; and J’Ho himself.

Now the Cole enquiry had originally had its terms limited to exclude investigating government involvement, but some clever clogs had engineered things so that its well nigh impossible for J’Ho not to open things up without looking like he is covering something up. The next few weeks should be REALLY interesting.

John Howard is one of the smoothest political operators to emerge on the scene in the last few decades, and I suspect faster than you can say “plausible deniability” he is going to wiggle his way out of this, so I am not jigging for joy just yet. But it is going to take some political capital to do so and it will leave him injured.

Now if the Labor party just had a spine, or even a recognisable policy framework they might be able to capitalise on this and keep up the momentum. But somehow I doubt it. The days of labor “Maintaining the rage” seem, for the nonce, to have passed. I may just have to settle for watching J’Ho squirm.

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On Saturday I was lucky enough to get invited to the Australian Open. It was one of those corporate VIP things as a thank you for some consulting work I had done. My friend Joe came with me and to my great surprise we ran into an old work buddy of mine, Sharon. She of the London adventure fame.I also hung out with Elle McPherson for a while, which is entirely another story, although I would like to point out that unlike some media whores I won't be showing off any trophy pictures.

The tennis was pretty good and while, to my mothers enduring disappointment, I am not much of a sports watcher, even I got into things.

It was a great environment, with a packed house of supportive and excited fans. There was even a contingent of rainbow flag waving boys for Amélie Mauresmo. One of whom goes on the short list of the most disturbingly good looking men I have ever seen. looking like he had just fallen out of a Colt Calendar with clothing by Banana Republic, HUGE and handsome, he was clearly an out of towner. And somewhat disappointingly he had his flawless nose firmly in the air. As unsurprising as that was, it still amazes me that good looking men cannot be more gracious.

So without Mr Big&Hunkys attention we watched the womens' final which was good even if it was short. the handsome and mannish lesbian Mauresmo (or Amyl Machismo as we like to call her) pretty much whipping the floor with Justine Henin-Hardenne until in the Belgian, Henin-Hardenne called the game because she was too ill to continue.

It must have been a huge disappointment for both of them and something of a let down for Mauresmo. After coming second in 1999, to now win the Open because your opponent, a one time winner herself, is sick has to be something of an anticlimax.

Both women however showed an incredibly admirable level of dignity and grace. The first person to go and offer comfort to Mauresmo was Henin-Hardenne Clearly they are able to maintain a friendship amid the rivalry of their competition.

Their level of generosity for each other really threw Mr Big&Hunkys stinky attitude into sharp relief. If these girls, with an international reputation, possibly billions of people watching and millions of dollars in prize money at stake can be gracious, why can't a good looking man recognize the attention of someone less attractive?

I briefly dated someone who had as a base requirement for even conversation that people be over 200 lbs of gym toned male. With my good sense temporarily disengaged by depression I didn't reject him out of hand until his bad attitude had further disrupted my life. My own fault, when your gay grandparents tell you that someone sucks, you really should pause a moment and listen.

I guess I can still be a little naive about how deeply shallow some people can be. I tend to assume the best and ascribe ethical values to most people, when it appears that is likely not the actual case. As my mother says, some people are just arse holes.

The problem is that we tend to forgive the ridiculously attractive arse hole behavior more readily on the off chance it might get us laid. Truth be told, as hot as he was, I would not have slept with him. Not unless there was a lot more of a human personality buried there, and it certainly wasnt on display.

Quite frankly I am tired of assuming they are "shy". If you are that good looking you can be gracious about it.

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Not a very long era, i will grant you that, but an era none the less.

My favorite blogger has decided to call it a day, Bill In Exile, is to be no more. If you havent read any of Bill and Scotts adventures, you should scoot over there right away and do so before Scott pulls the plug completely.

It would be a crying shame if these boys didnt get a book deal, they are fabulous story tellers. That their stories are true makes them no less impressive for their power and connection.

Thanks for everything Scott and Bill.

Good luck.

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The 1990 Americal Dialect Societies “word of the year”Bushlips (similar to “bullshit” — an insincere political remark.

This stemmmed from President George H.W. Bush’s 1988 “Read my lips: no new taxes ” promise, which he did not keep. Today it seems all the more relevant.

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Recently I wrote a post giving a bit of a rave to a couple of bloggers that I enjoy reading. In this blog entry,

I also admitted to finding Oliver, art dealer and Author of Thought Not, to be quite yummy. I even went so far as to post a picture of him and link to a photo of his naked rear end, a rear end I would love to give a good whiskering to truth be told.

After posting this picture of Oliver, I have had a number of people email me saying they think I am handsome, what a great plaid shirt that is and where did i get those glasses.

Clearly you people are not reading the words, you are only looking at the pictures. What is more disturbing is that it appears that I have gotten a boner over a guy who everyone else thinks looks like me.

Given I have decided to never have sex again, self abuse is my only recourse so this kind of makes sense, but it is a little bit narcissic, ok, creepy.

I still think he is hot.

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Back in my twenties I was living in Sydney and working as an Aerobic Instructor. I was fit, healthy, young and for me at least, kind of pretty. As a result I receive a fair amount of attention from good looking guys which resulted, from time to time in, some decent shagging. Not that I was the village bike or anything, that was Sevens job, but I was certainly reasonably "popular". I had met someone the night before and had enjoyed an evenings entertainment. As usual, my friends and I met up at Morgans around 11 to enjoy breakfast and compare war stories. Someone, Gary I think, commented that I had disappeared early the evening before, so of course I was mercilessly teased into giving details. I am always careful not to kiss and tell, partially out of a sense of honor but mostly because I like kissing too much. As a result I wasn't prepared to divulge too much that I felt would be identifying detail. I did however tell them that the gentleman in particular, while very keen for me to fuck him, complained A LOT during the process. "Put it in, but not too far", "not like that", "ouch, slower", that sort of thing. I don't usually get much in the way of complaints so it was a bit off putting. I guess I would refer to him as a whinging bottom. At this point Garys' eye lit up and he grabbed his phone. He dialed, waited a moment and asked it "did you sleep with Robert Miller last night?" pause, "thought so", and he hung up. Everyone at the table was goggling at him, particularly me. He looked at me and said "Jason Davies� , lion tattoo‡ on his left shoulder blade. Right?". Stunned I nodded. At this point Gary smirked, he loved these games, and "There is no better way to describe him than "whinging bottom" � not his real name ‡ not his real tattoo

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Fat Naked Fag Goes Down

So its likely you will remember Richard Hatch, aka the fat, naked fag who won ONE MILLION DOLLARS on the first season of Survivor . Well it will appear that Richard, while deeply cunning at manipulating people is not so sharp when it comes to business and in fact was referred to by his lawyer as “the worlds worse book keeper”. It appears that Richard forgot to pay taxes on the money that he won.

Oops.

He has been convicted and now faces up to 13 years in prison and a fine of $US600,000 ($A799,041.15). Perhaps the authorities can be persuaded to send him to Camp Seymour Johnson in the Carolinas to join Bill , it would make for good blogging.

I am actually surprised at this turn. I had always assumed it would be Hatchs criminal fashion sense that would do him in.

Worst case scenario, I can see a Mark Burnett spinning this off into another show. Hell if it can work for Martha , right?

Micheal Jackson branches out to offend another culture

So what did happen to Micheal Jackson after he won his court case but lost his publicity war? Neverland Ranch is shut down, his finances are in ruins and his credibility as a babysitter is, well quiet frankly its shot all to hell.

Well it appears that Mr Jackson, along with his unfortunately named children, were invited to come and stay in Bahrain by the royal family there. Now there’s a good idea, a barely- got- off- by- the- chemically- altered- sin- of- his- teeth child molester goes to stay in a Muslim country. Is this some weird side battle on the war on terror?

Has Bush sent Wacko-Jacko in to show the Gulf States how bizzare Americans are so they fear what might be coming next. I can see them begging now – please, please, don’tMariah or Michael Bolton. Oh Please, anything but that! send

Anyway, Jacko is still clearly taking too much medication because he was recently spotted “wearing an abaya, a traditional women’s veil and gown”. I do so love the word gown, it has such a lovely old world charm.

Three Western-looking children accompanying him drew the attention of other shoppers, who quickly recognised the pop star, a popular figure in the Gulf region.

“Please, no!” Jackson shouted to photographers before making a rapid exit with the children.

Please no indeed.

And yet still no indictment

For my American cousins, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE WAITING FOR? AN ENGRAVED INVITATION?

How many more things does the Bush Administration have to fuck up before you people will indite him.

The latest piece of news to slip out about Hurricane Katrina is that apparently the government knew about the potential damage and certainly the danger LONG before the storm hit.

At a July 29 briefing with federal and state authorities Transportation Department regional emergency officer Don Day said “If you think soup lines in the Depression were long, wait till you see lines” at collection points in New Orleans. [Yahoo News]

All that moral outrage over Janet Jacksons boob going on display and for this? Nada. What are you people? Crazy?

Meanwhile the Abramoff thing seems to be going precisely nowhere.

It all makes J’Ho appear positively benign.

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In 2002 James, my partner of the time, and I went on an Atlantis cruise around the Western Caribbean, San Juan, St Croix etc, along with the trip to the Maldives with Steve and a week James and I spent in Sorrento, it was one of the most wonderful holidays I have had.

What is great about the cruises is that they are all of the good of a circuit party weekend, with out much of the bad, combined with the bliss of laying around in the sun. We both loved it and I came away with some good friends who to this day are an important part of my life, like Bruce and Billy.

There was plenty on the boat to do or not do as you chose. Tea dances, stage shows, dinners, lunches, hanging by the pool, parties and shore trips. There was also a lively trade in extracurricular activities if you were so inclined.

James is quite the honey, and provided he doesn’t dance in public he tends to get hit on a lot. As the boyfriend I was bathed in the reflected lust from the hawks circling around him. He is oblivious which just drives them NUTS.

It struck me on that trip how caught up some of our American cousins seem to be with categorization. They seem be determined to specify their make, model and operating interfaces and then to find partners who have the right, um, plugs. Back home in Australia, we seem to be more prepared to just wing it and do what comes naturally.

That or we are just trampier. I am not completely certain there.
In the afternoons, around 5pm, there were “Tea Dances” on the pool deck. Most of the boats party interested passengers would assemble and dance the afternoon away as the sun set and the boat sailed on from whatever lavish exotic location we had visited that day. One afternoon as I was standing on eh edge of the dance floor watching the hawks vie for James attention, one of them decides to try it on with me.

He was handsome enough in a Miami stretched, pumped, tanned and plucked sort of way but lord did he not have conversation skills. That seems to be that way, the prettier or bigger they get the less they seem able to hold down a conversation that doesn’t directly involve talking about themselves. The exclusion to this is Mark Schneider who is usually not too self involved considering how outrageously good looking he is.

So the hawk is trying it on with me and I am being all coy, funny and politely disinterested when he pulls what he must have thought was his killer line – “you know I am one of only ten tops on this boat, don’t you?”

What? Did I miss the survey when I came on board? How can anyone make that sort of statement? Firstly, they can’t know. Secondly – WHO CARES!

It never ceases to amaze me, given how moralistic and puritanical the populus American culture is about most things – hello, religious right in control of th three branches of government, that they are so forward about their sexuality. Always shoving it down your throats, as it were.

So suffice to say, I gave Mr. One of Ten his marching orders and went back to the pleasant (for me) pastime of watching James “dance”. A few minutes later another guy approached me, apparently he had been listening to the start of the pervious conversation because his opening line was “Actually, I am the 11th”.

If its not one thing, its another.

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I had a great posting prepared for today, all about gay profiles and why I abandoned them. But alas a technology glitch snatched success from me.

In a style that would make my mate Eric proud, I have been writing entries on the train using my PocketPC iPaq 3870 and a micro keyboard – all of which I liberated from a previous employer, as a legit part of severance of course. The little iddy biddy keyboard is a little pokey, but I can get out a fair clip of writing and it makes the train trips faster. Plus its all really easy to carry around, so I figure its worth it.

That is until you accidentally delete it when syncing the device. Let me tell ya, the whole Apple iSync thing – it ROCKS.

There I said it, ok.

So for now my posting is lost. Until I get to work since its also on my computer there, but for now I am going to have to wing it.

Let me talk about my friend Bull from Canada.

He is a 40 something gay man living on Vancouver Island with his partner, the equally beautiful “Beard”. They are the quintessential bear couple. Hunky, sexy and not afraid of exploring their wilder side. In fact I suspect Bull and Beard have gone places no man has gone before, that is not without a dozen wagons, a blacksmith, a hardware store of equipment, a set of Tiffany lamps and a team of Sherpas.

These boys are serious. Fuck with then but you sure as shit don’t mess with them.

And yet for a serious muthafucker Bull is kind and funny, charming and very, very considerate. I have a soft spot for him because on a day that was black and cold, when I was very down, out of the blue he emailed me. Just to say “hi, heard things have been tough for you. You will be ok, but I hope you are ok now”.

Its little things like that that keep you ticking over when times are hard. It keeps your faith up.

Bull and I have started talking again by email and its easy to remember what it is I like about him. He is smart and funny and sharp as a pin. He and Beard are happy together, living a simple life and enjoying the things that are in it. They enjoy the parts of the world that are good for them, avoid the others and let the people who don’t like or approve of them go fuck themselves. They are beloved of the little old ladies in their village, septum piercings and all.

Plus there is something about him, both of them actually, that is just super sexy to me. For me that’s no mean feat, remembering of course that I am never having sex again.

It had slipped my mind, but both of them have A-MA-ZING bodies. Huge, masculine, mature and stunningly put together. Seeing them both, and talking to him reminded me that there are complex and amazing people out there. I loved being part of that world and I have been missing it here in my fortress of solitude .

Living in San Francisco, I was part of a tribe, a pack of incredible people. Not particularly rich, or famous, or stunningly beautiful people, well not the sort you see in fashion magazines, but good people, complex people and wonderfully engaging people. People who look after themselves for their own pleasure, not because they want to fit in or impress. People who look after those around them out of kindness, not because they want something out of it.

I miss that.

So tonight I got my hair cut, I did some more cardio and I ate low carb again for the first time in a few weeks. Because taking good care of myself makes me happy, because I miss my tribe, because I miss being THAT me.

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As in heat hot.

Its 43° in Melbourne today.

Thats WAY too hot for me.

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