Friday, March 24, 2006

Te Radar: Planning for the apocalypse beats the banalities of taxes, sex and the haka

I am, at present, rejoicing in the fact that I believe we may be living in The End Times. This era seems a distinct possibility now that the theocracies currently in control of the world's newest nuclear foes, Iran and the United States, both have within their ruling cliques those who believe that only through a fiery Armageddon can the return of their respective messiahs be achieved.

It should come as no surprise that this is rather more of a preoccupation for me than whether an MP falsified tax documents, whether we're boring the world with our haka, or the increasingly explicit details of certain policemen's sexual predilections.

Personally, I thought misleading the Tax Department was a prerequisite of good corporate governance. Perhaps I've been reading the wrong books on successful New Zealand businesses.

Of late, however, I have been enticed by literature of a rather more lurid nature than tales of tax minimisation schemes. This, too, is fatiguing.

Despite being one of the more prurient people I know even I'm weary of the voyeuristic explicitness of a certain rape trial featuring members of our constabulary. Even conservative news agencies' reportage of events are beginning to resemble Penthouse Forum.

Thankfully the Aussies distracted us from this sordid affair by complaining about our overuse of the haka. Oddly, in the resulting furore, no one bothered to ask whether "Ka Mate" is the most appropriate national haka.

Its creator, Te Rauparaha, could be described as a genocidal maniac, whose actions caused the deaths and dislocations of many thousands of people as he rampaged around the country.

I won't go so far as to say that. What I will suggest is that it must be particularly galling for descendants of his victims to be reminded of his antics every time the All Blacks play, too much booze is consumed by Kiwis abroad or, as is presently the case, a New Zealand competitor manages to complete a Commonwealth Games event.

So, it is with great delight that my preparations for the apocalypse are occupying my time, although to date my precautions consist solely of the wearing of spectacles. These not only aid my vision, but also provide useful protection from the consequences of an apocalyptic situation.

Should such an event occur there will no doubt be a lot of apocalyptic detritus flying about, including shattered masonry, splinters of glass, and shards of broken children.

With our health system already stretched, one can scarcely imagine what it will be like in a post-apocalyptic world. Any form of eye injury will no doubt lead to my blindness. Rats will then chew off my manhood, and I will have to endure the mocking laughter of street urchins as they prod sharpened lengths of reinforcing iron into the suppurating wound where my manhood used to be.

When this eventually occurs, I will be ecstatic for no other reason than that it will provide a fitting diversion from the banalities of MPs' fiddled tax returns, cultural cringe and tales of police officers' menage a trois.

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