Howard’s End
After 10 years of nurturing my hatred of John Howard, I should have been ecstatic at his defeat, I should still be dancing about it even now. I’m not, but thanks to him I understand a little better, why the Convoy of No Confidence/Occupy Things/ Talk Back trolls are so incoherently enraged.
On election night 2007 I was banished from the lounge room because our guests, given the choice, preferred Kevin Rudd’s acceptance speech over my half-drunk yelling at the TV.
I sat on the edge of the bed, swaying softly and wondering if banishment extended to No More Beer For You Mister So Stay Out Of The Kitchen. I also wondered what it was that I had just seen and why it made me so sad; the night should have been a celebration, gloating and cheering and inventing new, clever ways to say “Bye bye, Johnny”. But it wasn’t.
Partly it was Rudd’s speech; a collection of buzzwords and bland mission statements, delivered without passion, without promise, without soul. Mission Accomplished, Rudd seemed to say: we’re here now, we’re in government, that was all we had to do.
“After eleven years of Howard”, I yelled, “THIS is what we get?” But despite Rudd’s ability to suck all the life from a room, his speech wasn’t the only thing that had given me pause.
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