Sad Sack or Culture Vulture

Ok, I might be a sad sack, lonely Sundays, kids too hung over to play . . . but after fighting with strollers and aggresive mothers at the supermarket for the obligatory fortnightly shop, who would do well to watch 50,000 episodes of super nanny, (that's right folks we full time working single parents shop on bloody Sunday with the rest of the psychos), weeding the garden and giving three dogs a grooming experience that only super models enjoy . . . I watch the Sunday Arts show on our public TV ABC. . . Actually I watched a gooey Jennifer Love Hewitt movie that's overdue so I figure I've paid for it, lets go. So mushy, romantic, chick flick to the max then I tune into the arts show to see an Australian Opera, contemporary, songs sung in cars parked at traffic lights, wondering through the Sydney Botanical Gardens etc. I have to say it, opera is shit. Alright, I do like that lovely thing from Madam Butterfly, you know the two women singing unintelligable lyrics. And I do get a bit emotional listening to Pavarotti singing Nessum Dorma (if there's been enough chardy under the belt). I can even become slightly empassioned at some sections of Carmen or the Barber of Saville (I'm not a complete infidel when it comes to opera) but a pathetic attempt at Australian opera (now there's a contradiction in terms when our fave song is John Williamson's 'Hey True Blue') for fucks sake who like this pretentious shit. I started wandering around the kitchen, making a killer Rogan Josh if you're interested, and began singing to my saucepans, dogs, dishwashing liquid - even the carrots got a bit of an operatic telling off for being phallic - and I have to say, it was more melodic and meaningful than the crap they're playing on the telly. There, I feel vented and vindicated . . . opera is like ballet . . . if the music's no good, nobody wants to watch gay men poncing around the stage with socks stuffed down their tights (my mother used to say it was so the ballerina's had something to stand on during a lift) any more than they want to listen to contemporary non rhyming English spoken opera based in the burbs with no melody. See what it's driven me to Blogging at 4:25 on a Sunday afternoon! I have better things to do than listen to this crap. Well not too many but . . . I think, maybe, oh fuck it . . .I'm going to chlorinate my pool and cleanse my ear wax.