Mathew Mackie

Current Affairs Wrap: Sean’s spicy crumpet, Dutton’s shot at Qantas, McDonald’s McMilitance

Sean

Approx Reading Time-11Sunday. The shortest day of the week – and what a week it was – with pettiness ruling, as Sean Spicer got nasty, and Peter Dutton outdid him, before McDonald’s cooked them both.

 

 

 

Good morning to you all. Our usual weekly scribe, Rob Idol, is unavailable this week as he’s retreated far into the Balinese jungle to make himself the impromptu leader of a tribe not touched by the advancements of this millennium, so you’ll have to deal with me, your trusted Editor-in-Chief, to deliver this week’s Current Affairs Wrap. The horror.

 

International

We begin this week at a familiar address: 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. I know we should all be looking further afield, expanding our horizons as the leader of the world narrows his. But, meh.

Let us focus our attention on two disparate moments, two acts with seemingly nothing in common, bar a significant lack of fucks being given therein: Sean Spicer’s spicy argument stash got even sweeter, and Donald Trump opened the first page of The Big Orange Book of Oval Office Handshakes.

Earlier in the week, the liberal media’s Gargamel, Sean Spicer, poured mystery ooze into the cauldron of journalistic discourse, cackling as he watched the media yell about, well, anything, until they were blue in the face. Top points go to anyone who got the Smurfs pun. Getting busy aping the classic drunk freshly ejected by security from the pub, denying his inebriation and returning 15 minutes later to tell the bouncers exactly what he thinks of them, Spicer turned the discussion over to head bean-counter, Mick Mulvaney, who proceeded to the tell the assembled press that the Trump administration will be pushing for a $54 billion increase in defence spending without increasing the national deficit.

For those of you playing at home, Trump will be able to do that, by doing this:

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Props to Mulvaney, who has that rare air of believability while he removes your kneecaps. Like every mob-backed loan shark in every movie ever. He said the administration would not be keen on spending money on climate change, or indeed external humanitarian crises, and we nodded, before shaking our heads on the train home; He said what? Those over the barrel naturally assumed that the width of the horror was over, but no, cue Monsignor Spicer who decided to spend the remaining time arguing with the New York Times. The Whitehouse soon became a broken home with the sound of two adults discussing adult business you don’t understand, albeit in a childish tone you immediately identify with.

Mum, Dad. Please stop fighting.

Elsewhere, the seventh-most interesting subplot of the Trump administration is the way he shakes hands with visiting dignitaries, for loving-fudge sake. As per the prophet Drake: he started at the bottom but now finds himself at, well, a slightly elevated position. It started with Japanese PM Shinzo Abe – too much handshake – then progressed to Canadian PM Justin Trudeau – not enough alpha – and now sits with German head of state, Angela Merkel – notable for absence of handshake.

As you’d expect, the Internet completely empathised with the Trump, in that in the societal game of President Etiquette, any move he’d make is the wrong one. #LayOffDonald they certainly did not utter.

 

Domestic

Those whose heads are shaking in gubernatorial derision best cease the horizontal motion of their mirthful nature as the local scene has scored an identical number on the Latham Scale of Political Timewastery. Let’s just start with this and get it out of the way, as it’s tackier than the tack section of a tack store (amiright?). Late last week, the climate change equivalents of the Capulets and the Montagues (look it up), Messrs Frydenberg and Weatherill, were undone by fate, meeting upon the same musty stage of discourse by chance, as daggers were drawn.

What followed was a unique snapshot of the plastic nature of politics. While one may hurl abuse at another, cosy in the comforts of Question Time with a five-minute limit and the support of peers, having two foes share the same camera with no holds barred was a bit too…real.

Fkn hit ‘im, etc.

Elsewhere, the potentially next spill-enabled Prime Minister of Australia, Peter Dutton, decided to inject 400CC’s of reality into the electorate, as he took on the CEOs of big business for having an opinion on the same-sex marriage debate, in particular Alan Joyce of Qantas.

Ostensibly, Dutton told CEOs like like Joyce to “stick to their knitting” which is petty, off the mark and makes no sense whatsoever (all hail the holy trinity), furthering his point by stating that big business should not use their sway to further political issues. Which is fair enough, but:

At the risk of editorialising, just vote it in already. We’d like it, and the longer it goes on, the stupider everyone looks. Choppy-chop.

 

Wacky and wonderful

The other American purveyors of 1950s grit, McDonald’s, sampled a taste of a rather volcanic PR fillet-o-fish, as their Twitter account was hacked, and Ronald momentarily turned militant, firing anti-Trump auspices from the hip:

McDonald’s soon offered a statement on the matter via the medium of Tweet:

Hilariously, their response garnered as much support as it did criticism, with one user stating “there’s nothing to be ashamed of here”, but those in learned circles are keeping their eyes peeled on the Burger King Twitter for their attempt to one-up McDonald’s PR “bungle”.

Watch this space.

 

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