rock and roll prison

Alright. Where I live, the formal lockdown measures ended in early 2022.

Personally, I think one reason the employment rate is so low right now is because a whole pile of people around retirement age, or quite a few reluctant to retire, realised that hanging about the house wasn't such a bad thing after all. 

In fact, life itself wasn't meant to be spent piss-farting about in a drab office trying not to grimace at the forced jollities, the strict dweebness and the sheer bloody pointlessness of necessary screenwork. Sure, some things need to be done. But we seemed to get by without a hell of a lot of it during lockdown.

And don't get me started on the poor bastards who worked through the pandemic, the nurses and doctors who (as far as I'm concerned) all deserve a 10 percent wage rise (and, for those who actually worked with the Covid patients, an Order of Australia each).

 
_{Sonic Garage.}  

When I first was approached to vote in Australian elections, the government agency sent me a letter, with a form. I recall the form beginning something like, “I wish to enrol as a voter...”

But I didn't wish to enrol. At all. All I could see were wankers playing at some artificial game of one-up-manship, kids in a schoolyard, without a great deal of integrity or affection for their constituents and no moderating teacher in sight. 

Perhaps, 40-what years ago, I was being unfair.

Anyway, I read the instructions, which - bizarrely - insisted I complete the form in black pen.

So, not really knowing how to deal with this - I thought I'd get into shit if I didn't complete the form - I did complete the form, but in blue pen, and sent it off.

It was at band practice with Smallpox Confidential about four or so weeks ago that I discovered the car crash I had been in had walloped me so damn hard that apart from the soft tissue damage and concussion, I'd also lost a significant chunk of hearing. 

I'd not realised because it was a certain range of sound rather than everything, and I was so preoccupied with all the rest of the time-gobbling nonsense that until something is dead obvious, you tend not to really notice. 

Anyway, there we were in the same room in the same places with the knobs at the same volumes... and I couldn't hear Marduk's guitar. Naturally, I asked our bass player, Bob, to turn down, which he reluctantly did (do you know a bass player? do they EVER turn down?). Then I asked Marduk, to turn up, which somewhat puzzled, he did. Then I asked Bob and Marduk again, because I still couldn't hear the guitar.