How are you celebrating Waitangi Day?
Send us your photos
KEY POINTS:
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A pleasure dome decree
But he never signed a Treaty. No!
Oh, deary, deary me!
You cannot wander golden like
A host of daffodils
Until you've signed a Treaty, Guv
With fountain pens or quills.
All hail to thee, Waitangi
Absurd thou never wer't.
Thy Treaty bought a nation for
Three blankets and a
shirt
(And nobody got hurt.
Well, not until the Land Wars, anyway).
But do not go gentle into that.
Good night!
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
(As folk did in Auckland this week).
If we wouldst but honour the Treaty
God might make those boy racers meek.
Let kwardle oodle ardles ring
And aroha soar'pon the wing
Key a kaha, Hobson's choice
And Mrs Harawira's voice
All join in harmony, Hooray!!!!
To celebrate Waitangi Day.
And there you have it; the extinguished poet laureate's "hydroponic" tribute to the side effects of medication. And, to be fair, having digested those immortal lines - "tumescent with promise" as Mr Jam Hipkins' muse, Ms Epiphany Throbbe, so rightly avers - you'd likely agree there's not a lot more we can add.
Except, at least this year we don't seem quite so hellbent on turning Waitangi Day into an orgy of angst and anger.
Neither of which makes a blind bit of difference when the things we get all angst'd and angered about happened roughly 150 years ago and therefore can't be changed.
It's called history, all you grumpy trolls. Build a bridge and get under it!
As we seem to be doing. It's too early to say precisely who the gorgeous Titewhai will be hugging later this morning but you can bet your hongi it'll be someone of note.
Which is a jolly good thing. You can't hit people when you're hugging them, can you? No, you can't. So we should be throwing our hats in the air and crying, "Huzzah! Bravo! Long live the King! We're all one nation, that's foreshore!" Because it is a splendid thing to find ourselves in this felicitous situation. Scattered outbreaks of harmony are things to celebrate, not undermine. The nation's new mood is too precious, and fragile, to threaten.
Savour it, yes. Value it, for sure.
But jeopardise it, no. Far better that we try to to understand it. Which, fortunately, may not be too difficult. It could be our United State of Amity is a classic case of the old "silver lining".
They do say great external threats, things like wars or rogue asteroids hurtling lethally towards us from the depths of space at a gazillion miles an hour, tend to bring folk together. And, right now, we've got a doozey in the external threat department, namely, this whole world global fiscal meltdown, Iceland's for sale crisis thingee. Perhaps that's what's done it. Perhaps the whole WGFMIFSCT has unwittingly triggered an uncharacteristic spasm of unity in Outer Roa.
Let's face it, you don't get PMs announcing $500 million rescue packages if if you haven't got some frightful threat lurking in the wings, twirling its moustache and waiting to cast us out into the snow.
Rescue packages of $500 million mean we're in deep schtum, doo doo up to our nostrils, my dears, the whole nine yards. And lest ye doubt we've officially hit can of worms status, remember, this is no ordinary rescue package. No siree, this is "a rolling maul".
And you don't get politicians using sporting metaphors unless we're in real trouble. So we are. The very fact they're even talking about "rolling mauls" in Wellington means we're probably already doomed and should all put on our lemming suits, build a cliff and jump over it.
Especially since, to expand on the metaphor, the true purpose of "a rolling maul" is, eventually, to "feed the backs" who then "score in the corner" and win the cup. Whoopee. Trouble is, in this case, the "backs" are politicians. And it doesn't matter who the politicians are, you know what they're like. They get their "rolling maul" going, the financial goal-line's in sight, they "feed the backs" and, bingo, Dan Carter (or his Wellington equivalent) pulls up with a ruptured Achilles.
You know that's what will happen, folks, as sure as God made little green Aussies.
Let's just hope, even if we can't beat the whole WGFMIFSCT catastrophe, we do whup them go-o-o-o-o-od in the cricket today. Especially since young Brom was swept from contention in the last game as a direct result of some under-arm, over-stump skulduggery.
Shame on you, Bad Haddin!
The sporting test you fail
You bring a tarnished meaning to
That old phrase, "Out on bail."
It's fair to say, if J.K. and the boys drove their "rolling maul" right over the top of him, no one in this country would give a flamin' toss.
Postscript: Much has been said about the sentences in the truly revolting Nia Glassie case. Some say 17 years isn't enough. It would be if for the next 17 years those b*****ds spent eight hours a day in a clothes dryer.
