Poor Kevin Rudd, standing there in front of Twitter, holding up his little bot-infested petition.
I was going to write a witty, scathing article but there’s no sport in it anymore. As the great Malcolm Tucker once said disparagingly of an MP, ‘this is like a clown running across a minefield!’
The truth is, in order for Rudd to deal with his vast personal failure as a political figurehead, he has decided to take the Stalin approach and destroy the free press. It is difficult to imagine the size of ego required to think that hurt feelings about mean headlines warrant the complete annihilation of a media company millions of Australians choose to pay for every year – but then, politicians are not normal people.
After all, Rudd’s definition of ‘media diversity’ involves inviting the state to assassinate the only major competition to the government’s propaganda agency.
The ABC, famous for pick-pocketing the public in dark alleyways, spends its daylight hours professing a great deal of hatred toward half the people who fund it. For some reason, its presenters are surprised that these insolent serfs wander off to Murdoch.
Giving these sneering goons in their beige sets a media monopoly has become Rudd’s sole ambition. Censorship is the dictatorial version of a mid-life crisis. The authoritarian sports car that no one can afford, racing headfirst towards a pole with the angry wife known as ‘public opinion’ standing on the curb, arms folded shouting, ‘I told you not to bloody do it!’
While Rudd drapes himself awkwardly over his smouldering wreck, hurling accusations of ‘far-right’ at Murdoch – he still cannot explain why the very same news organisation supported him during his early career.
The truth is, Rudd is the jilted lover. The two-and-a-bit night stand that everyone regrets.
Who knows, maybe he can have another go at becoming secretary-general of the United Nations? They are in the business of platforming madness these days.
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