Gillard Move A Step Backwards For Australia

MBH (my better half) and I were both gobsmacked when Prime Minister Julia Gillard gave her seal of approval to faith-based organisations wishing to discriminate against homosexuals in the work force.

Ms. Gillard’s decision to endorse bigotry to “avoid injury to the sensitivities” of particular religious groups goes against the basic Australian belief that everyone regardless of race, religion or sexuality should be treated with respect and dignity.

By denying homosexuals equal civil rights, our prime minister is sending out a very clear message to our community. We are mere second-class citizens and our sensitivities are inconsequential.

My partner and I are still trying to wrap our heads around the argument that a person’s sexuality could get in the way of their profession. What it really says to us is that any gay employee working for an organisation run by a religious group puts him/herself at the mercy of their employer.

Stay in the closet, keep in line and you’ll be fine. Be true to yourself and we’ll fire your arse!

Treating homosexuality as a “lifestyle” choice makes as much sense as blaming someone for their race or eye colour. It’s tantamount to playing God and judging someone’s core identity over their actions. No one should ever be given that right, let alone an employer.

Given the shortage of staff and funding in education and health care, one would think that employees working in faith-based schools, universities, hospitals, retirement villages and nursing homes would be valued and held in high regard. These people are after all the pillars of our society.

Sadly, personal religious beliefs continue to take precedence over public ethics. It is a real slap in the face to the many gay teachers, care-givers, nurses and doctors who do a fantastic job, going beyond the call of duty, caring for others.

Australians are very clear about their stance regarding homosexuality, gay marriage and equal civil rights. Recently asked on the Sydney Morning Herald website whether faith-based organisations should be allowed to refuse to hire people who don’t live according to the organisation’s belief system, 63% of poll takers answered “no”.

We live in a country that reflects a democratic ideology; a society that promises equal opportunities to all and vows to protect the vulnerable. A majority of Australians strive to uphold these values. Why don’t our leaders?

Julia Gillard’s speeches about moving our nation forward remain nothing but talk. My message to her is simple. Ensure all citizens are treated equally, regardless of their sexual identity. Fairness, decency and respect are the elements that will ultimately make our society evolve and turn Australia into the fantastic country God intended it to be.

Getting Physical In The Bedroom

There are many things in life one takes for granted. Good health and mobility are two that immediately come to mind. When either is compromised, carrying out simple tasks can become an ordeal.

All it had taken to throw my back out was leaning forwards while getting up from the loo. Every muscle along my spine, from shoulder blade down to lumbar region, had gone into lock-down. I had no other option than to sit back down again with my head between my legs.

Wow, I thought staring at the dust-encrusted rim on the toilet bowl, it would be just my luck if MBH (my better half) walked in to find me passed out on the bog.

Hell-bent for that not to happen, I somehow managed to hoist myself up from the seat to standing position and, folded in half, hobbled down the hallway. MBH was still awake as I collapsed in bed next to him. Seeing I was in trouble, he ran for the Deep Heat and got to work on the traumatised muscles.

Luckily he was there to relieve some of the pain. That hadn’t been the case several weeks earlier.

I’d woken up in the middle of the night with a start. The inner- thigh on my right leg had gone into a spasm. I stretched and massaged the muscles, but the excruciating pain wouldn’t subside. The more I moved, the worse the cramp got.

Pounding a fist repeatedly against my adductors, I tried to beat the spasm into submission, hyperventilating to cope with the pain. A couple of minutes into rocking the bed back and forth, I was working up quite a sweat.

Punch, punch, pant, pant, rock, rock… “Oh God,” I groaned as quietly as I could, hoping I wouldn’t wake up MBH.

Had the situation not been so agonising, I probably would have been in hysterics. I could just picture my partner waking to heavy breathing and moans, and turning over in bed to find me giving my crotch a workout. Now that would have been a sight for sore eyes.

I needn’t have worried. MBH slept through the entire episode.

He did however give me a quizzical look on our next trip to the supermarket when I stocked up on family-size containers of Magnesium and Potassium supplements.

Follow Luke Brighty on Twitter via @brightlights_66

Don’t Sprinkle When You Tinkle

While attending a New Year’s Eve event with MBH (my better half), a particular topic and pet peeve seemed to come up frequently in conversation: public toilets. Why are so many lacking in hygiene or left in a state of disrepair?

I’d have to agree. Walking into a facility to face more pee on the floor than in the actual trough sucks. Not everyone is gifted with the ability to aim straight, especially after a few drinks, but you’d almost have to stand with your back to the urinal to create such a mess.

Stalls aren’t much better. I once had an encounter of the embarrassing kind while perched on the porcelain in a cubicle with a broken lock. On hearing someone approach, I placed a foot against the door, forgetting that it swung outwards, and kicked it wide open. I was just as horrified as the bloke I almost knocked over.

Then there’s the issue of toilet paper. Perfumed rolls just boggle my mind. Have you ever had someone walk up to you and say, “Gee, I just love the scent on your bum crack, what paper do you use?”

Those little glossy paper squares in stall dispensers that one is meant to cover the seat with are another great invention. They not only disappear down the lavatory bowl the moment one sits down, but also do a better job of smearing than cleaning.

Washing hands can be equally as tricky. The process, as straight-forward as it should be, often falls short when the last drop of liquid soap has to be squeezed out of a stubborn container. And beware of tsunami-projecting taps. I’ve left a restroom more than once looking incontinent with a huge water stain on my crotch.

If we could only take a leaf out of New Zealand’s book. I will never forget the spotless talking/singing public toilet in Wangamata. As I closed the door behind me, an ethereal voice boomed out, “Door Closed” and then added helpfully, “You now have ten minutes use time.”

Crap, I thought, as I sat there nervously glancing at my watch when suddenly the loudspeakers came alive with Dionne Warwick singing What the World Needs Now (Is Love Sweet Love). Well, I agree with her wholeheartedly, but surely not in a lavatory. It’s just not the right romantic setting. At the washing hands stage, nine minutes and 34 seconds later, the facility boomed one last time, “Thank you for using the X-el 1000.” The door automatically slid open to a wide-eyed audience and I slinked away hoping they’d heard nothing else but Dionne’s dulcet tones.