Mayor Moore's Go Go Bag

[Printed in Sydney Morning Herald 19/7/2007]

So Mayor Moore proposes the “Go Bag” to relieve Sydneysiders from their natural fear of impending doom. Is that like the “doggy bag”, or as they have in some US counties, the “to-go-cup”? All this on-the-go: coffee-to-go, breakfast-to-go, terrorism-to-go, a whole proliferation of options to keep my heart rate and cholesterol up.

I was managing my anxiety pretty well thank you very much until Ms. Moore decided that a black bag filled with beach-going / house-burgling peripherals was my only saving grace from Jihadist death from above.

Checklist: a black baseball cap, toilet paper, an AM/FM Radio, sunblock, a torch, spare batteries, spare keys, adhesive tape, disposable gloves, water, energy bars, runners and a notepad and pen. Should I pack-in a wrench too?

Get with the times Ms. Moore. We all have iPods. Whilst waiting to die form nuclear fall-out, I don’t need to be further aggravated by having to listen to the oral scatology of Allan Jones taking a bunch of call-ins from the (hopefully) radioactive wasteland that used to be Cronulla.

But at least, if the impending terrorist attack never occurs, we will be well prepared to go on a spur-of-the-moment manic murder rampage OJ style. Remember people, “if the glove don’t fit, you must acquit!”

And what of a minor-emergency, like a citywide blackout, non-virgin inspired? There’s an image. How are the police going to react to anxious citizens geared-up on energy snacks, running around in the dark, consulting a tactical map with a flashlight whilst wearing disposable gloves, donning a black baseball-cap and arbitrarily taking notes and duck-taping members of the public to telephone polls?

And what’s with the sunblock? Are they merely merging two failed awareness campaigns – terrorism and skin cancer? And I was just getting the hang of “slap on a shirt, slip on a hat…” Oh wait, I f***ed that one up, didn’t I?

Truly though, I would prefer to be fornicating on doomsday, so let’s make it a “Go Go Bag”. Pack some stripper slippers, lube, condoms and we can make the apocalypse a real party, Sydney-style. Voila! Safe-sex awareness too!

Can I assume this new measure means that all the phoned-in advice from the “Keep Australia Safe” fridge magnets didn’t amount to much? I must admit, I did phone-in to my local MP Joe Hockey’s fridge magnet advice line, though not to implicate my neighbours, but to inquire as to the whereabouts of a decent Thai take-away in Hunters Hill. The response was insufficient for my next vote.

Surely the $200,000 that Clover is going to cough up would go to better use by actually preventing potential terrorist attacks. Maybe a monument donated by the city of Sydney to the parks of Damascus, Jakarta, Pyongyang… inscribed, “Sydney: The World’s Fifth Best City. Please don’t attack us.”

Far more effective, I think, than inciting “bloody hell”. Tourism 1. Terrorism 0.

Virgin Aura

Long are those days when we would cast out young women to society as debutantes, where the only place for a woman was in the work of childrearing and husband-caring, and where the essence of femininity was found in chastity and the sanctity of marriage. Most of those oh-so "natural" values, which we can largely blame on Victorian Romanticism, have been outmoded by – to name a few – subsequent waves of feminism, the free-love generation, riot grrrl punk-rock and Madonna's most unchaste discography. All that was left was for an attack on traditional marriage.

But nay. Eventually riot grrrl kicked it, raunch culture set-in, Madonna got married… twice and feminism was left wondering what went wrong. Even with all the push and shove between feminist culture and the "anti-feminist" raunch culture of Ms. Hilton's disciples, marriage and its sanctity has remained essentially untouched as a social standard.

Marriage is everywhere, in and out of churches and canonized by reality TV. Everyone wants it: heterosexuals, gays, lesbians, Anglican pastors and even kissing buddies Britney and Madonna. In the off-season, the fashion industry practically survives on bridal shoots and weddings literally have their own genre in magazine publishing. It's huge business and J-Lo told us so!

Let's put something straight. I intend to get married one day… and divorced shortly after I receive my green card. But whether you believe in it or not, it's difficult to separate marriage from the patriarchal implications of sanctity: feminine "aura", the marital bed, virgin bride and the whole contractual obligation thing.

"Marriage is sacred," they still tell us, suggesting that the whole arrangement has an "aura" about it that we usually accord to objects of art and religion. But thanks to the Romantics, the other great place we usually find "aura" is in the feminine. "Aura" was the elusive essence of femininity that masculinity just needed to get its hands on and to some extent still does. And what better way to catch it than to turn it into an exchangeable commodity by way of marriage.

Traditionally the arrangement was made between the suitor (potential groom) and the woman's father (executor of the estate). Together, they made a verbal contract stipulating the warranty of her virginity, her childrearing / husband-caring potential and any financial arrangements to boot. Hence, why daddy stands at the alter and "gives" his daughter away. So the woman's ownership is passed on and her "aura" becomes the sovereign product of dad's business buddy. And later that night, in the nuptial bed, the boy gets to test the goods, void the warranty and take purchase in his has-been virgin bride's "aura". Traditional non-unconditional love – how romantic.

But enough of that cold talk. Today, marriage is a celebration of love and not so much a tax write-off. Women choose their partners, plan their ceremonies and since Steve Martin's 'Father of the Bride', whether or not daddy cares is of little or no consequence. To top it off, prenuptial agreements are practically taught in year-nine business syllabuses and celibacy flew out the window faster than you can say "Spring Break" or "Schoolies".

If anything, celibacy is shunned by mainstream and alternative media. No more virginal "aura" for little boy blue. The purity of the white marital gown is more an ironic pun than any veritable symbol. We might say marriage is reclamation of the "aura" lost by our wayward ways (progress). When we get married (and this is not for everyone) we make a claim to our "now" intended monogamy and purchase any notion of the "aura" left in marriage.

My point is that marriage is not sacred. It stopped being sacred when the church started institutionalising divorce (for men first of course). It's not sacred unless we want to think of women as objects to purchase and to own. So any debate arguing on the sanctity of marriage – à la gay marriage – is preaching to a doctrine that sees women as objects of trade – commercial, sexual or otherwise.