Te Radar: Hurricane's roar drowns the braying of electoral asses

If there has been one beneficial outcome from Hurricane Katrina, it has been to distract us from our election campaign by providing disturbing footage of man's inhumanity to man.

This is best exemplified by journalists competing to find the most telegenically tragic folk they can to provide suitably heart-wrenching backdrops to their links. With so many media flocking to the devastated areas, one has to wonder how much food and shelter they are appropriating from the needy residents.

Still, while the USA is dealing with an alleged act of God, we are languishing in the hot air created by those who act for God (which this week appears to be more than simply the usual politicians).

I have always wanted to be the leader of an obscure sect, although not the Rodney Hide kind, as it becomes increasingly clear that it requires a certain degree of loyalty to continue following Act. Still, the polls indicate there are at least a dozen disciples who still firmly have faith in Act, which is a shame for the party as there are more people than that on their candidate list.

Apart from the desire to be seen as the new messiah, I also have a penchant for any potential leader of my nation to have at least the appearance of being decisive, and a basic grasp of his party policy.

Some could misinterpret the look on Don't-know-Don's face as some kind of gentle, almost innocent, benevolence. It is, however, apparently indicative of a constant state of surprise and befuddlement, as policy details are put to him by the media before they seem to have been presented to him by his party.

Winston, meanwhile, in danger of emasculating himself with his precarious position on the political fence, has replaced the posters depicting him at the seaside staring at his rear. This was no doubt because it was becoming clear that no matter how long he stared at it no one appeared to be too interested in kissing it (bar the National Front, which was something of an own goal by both parties).

Ironically, Winston's image is indicative of the focus of this election campaign, as it descends into something of A Selection Shambles (or ASS).

While Winston has spent the past few weeks staring at his ass, a flummoxed Don has been looking like an ass, and haughty Helen certainly appears rather dissatisfied with having to kiss the public's ass. In fact, Helen's schoolmistress demeanour suggests that the campaign is a rather annoying impediment to getting on with the business of running things.

Meanwhile the Greens insist we ride any available ass, Act have sold theirs, and United Future's ass became an independent candidate a few weeks back, having failed to prevent the Civil Union Bill passing by going on a hunger strike.

As much as I love the tragicomedy of the campaign, I will be glad to see it over, if only to stop the incessant braying.