thing thing new zealand

Official Roadhog face reveal

You’re welcome.

So 2016’s latest victim is, get this, the Prime Minister of New Zealand, who was odds-on favourite to get a fourth term (fourth-term governments are VERY RARE in New Zealand politics), and has suddenly announced he’s resigning next week without any other notice. The election isn’t until next year.

ON THE ONE HAND, John Key is an A-grade Tory dick who never met a serious social issue he wasn’t “relaxed” about and once created a scandal by repeatedly pulling a waitress’s ponytail while his wife hissed at him to stop, like he was a fucking four-year-old. He was also inexplicably popular with the general public, so this could be good news for the election.

ON THE OTHER HAND, everybody who might possibly replace him is SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE in both the dickery and genuine ideological commitment to grinding the poor into the dirt stakes, ESPECIALLY the one woman who spent a long time on the DPB and has devoted her political career to removing every benefit she used to improve her life, as you do. So if the NZ Left doesn’t get its act together in time for next year’s election, this could get very ugly indeed.


WHILE I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH YOU ON SHEER PRINCIPLE, Bug-san is, like, RIGHT next to an open window. Their safety is RIGHT there. Seconds away.

Not close enough that it can ACTUALLY FIGURE THIS OUT FOR THEMSELF though. 

I feel like the universe is testing me. 



types of new zealand children

  • you were born on the west coast. black sand and thrashing waters, the kind of dangerous parents warn their children about. you could swim before you could walk, and you can feel the ocean in your bones, a soft ache that will never go away
  • you were born in canterbury. winter is nothing more than a warm embrace to you. your body convulses and shifts endlessly like the land below you, and your whole existence feels on edge. rise and fall
  • you were born in the wetlands. you know rebirth better than any, and yet you still feel trapped. you wake early every morning, and you know just how silent the farm can be. your life is an endless cycle of this knowing and yet you can never do anything but watch
  • you were born in te hiku-o-te-ika. the old gods still live inside of the earth, and you are surrounded by them. tane mahuta stands tall and so do you. breathe in, you exist at the top of aotearoa
  • you were born in the alpine mountains of otago. land of the red earth, isolated village, you are difficult to get to and difficult to understand. you are calmest when the wind is thin and the snow cold. poor child, you will never be able to comprehend your vastness
  • you were born in the cities. there is a disconnect in your identity, and no matter how many times you shift around, you will never feel at home until the hum of traffic has settled under your skin
  • you were born in the king country. war torn kid with too much blood on your knees, in your mouth, on your arms. there’s a rage inside of you that will never go away, but nor will the strength that comes from the bones of the kings in the soil below you
  • you were born in marlborough. the dry season has lasted several years, and you just want to know when everything will feel okay again. soon, i promise you
  • you were born on the volcanic plateau. you will never know where you belong, but that’s okay. nowhere will be able to contain you but the open vastness of the desert road. you are all too much, from lake taupo to mount ruapehu, you are unknowable
  • you were born in the bay of plenty. you have never known hunger, but you know suffering. you are the softest of children, raised on summer warmth and placid rivers that you know better than the back of your hand
  • you were born in heretaunga. you survived a place that wanted you dead. through the floods, the earthquakes, and the droughts, you still stand. you are so much stronger than you know

“people were created to be loved. 
  things were created to be used. 
  the reason why the world is in chaos is 
  because things are being loved and people are being used”



  nightly clouds and the milky way over lake wanaka.
  who can marvel at the universe without philosophizing about life on earth?


Matthew Mercer as Malcolm Wagner in “The Evil Inside”



“Because here’s something else that’s weird but true: in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship—be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles—is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It’s the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness. (…)
Look, the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful; it is that they are unconscious. They are default-settings. They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing. And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default-settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self”

(this is water: some thoughts - commencement speech at kenyon college)

Nostalgia Cynic

Pearl learns her favorite cheesy soap opera from the early 1980s is being revived, but her mood quickly sours when she discovers it’s nothing but an uninspired retread that leans too heavily on nostalgia. She writes a scathing review of the new show that becomes popular on the Internet, inspiring her to begin a new career critiquing pop culture. But when Pearl’s newfound cynicism goes too far and she develops a snarky attitude toward Steven and the Gems, only Amethyst and a Li’l Butler marathon can bring her back to reality.