Viewport width =
August 17, 2009 | by  | in Opinion | [ssba]

Sando says something irresponsible


I just realised the other day that justice isn’t actually decided by the cosmos, the Flying Spaghetti Monster or some magic man. I’ve known for years that there really isn’t anything in our heads that we didn’t put there ourselves, but I never really wanted to accept that justice was as man-made as the one-eyed Santa Bear that I used to carry around as a snuggling device. He was cuddle-filled and fuzzy. The only justice that we are able to access comes from what we as a social group have decided we can afford to mete out. And that’s the best we can hope for without taking matters into our own hands. I, like many of you, watch those stories of the little guys managing to tough it out and make a difference against the government or big business. So, I decided to be like the people of Minamata, Kumamoto, who suffered from large-scale mercury poisoning caused by big business and fight the power.

Every single pair of pants that I have bought from Farmers has died really quickly after being subjected to what I like to call “wearing.” I am now quite adept at using my clumsy sewing skills to find a way to keep wearing them. Crotch seams, new buttons, that thing where you kinda sorta repair zipper… You name it, I’ve got a pair of pants where I’ve botched the job and now use safety pins to keep myself from spewing out the sides like a beige wave of gelatine. Thanks to the poor quality goods that Farmers keeps supplying me, I decided this year to boycott the only chain store whose clothing I could afford. Well, I suppose I could head out to K-mart, but really, that’s in Porirua, and Porirua isn’t a place for arrogant hipsters, no matter how plus-sized they be.

So, like many a lone warrior, fighting evil in the night I got cold, but I staved off the violent winds and shocking rains. I managed to get through a couple of months before my birthday hit and beloved family members gave me Farmers vouchers. These free clothing vouchers and the fact that it was desperately cold and damp caused me to re-evaluate my one-man protest of Farmers. I’d given it my all for seven harrowing months, and gallingly the chain was still in business. Even more gallingly, my partner had accepted that I had made the decision to let my clothes rot into me. Further and fully engorged gallment came from the fact that no one even comprehended my epic struggle against big business… “Dude, just take the receipt in and get a replacement pair of pants,” was the comment du jour, when mentioning my pet hate. Well, Alexander Rodgers of Kelburn, maybe I don’t like keeping receipts against the chance of something going awry with my purchases. Ever think about that?

Fuck no, of course you didn’t.

Individual people can not change the world. No one man truly make sa difference. Well, some individual people can, because they have leverage with institutions like mega corporations, governments and creepy religious orders. But they are few and far between. Did you know about Farmers boycott ’09? No, because I am not the Pope. Ultimately I gave up my principles and was rewarded for doing so, and if it is convenient for you to do so you should too. There ain’t no justice.

I like making myself sad, it helps me prove to myself that I can still feel. A girl taught me about that and the pleasant feelings of pain when I was in high school. She was a lovely person, who is gone now. Well, she’s in America with her girlfriend and a billion piercings, but I still think of her fondly.

One of the ways I found of making myself sad recently was simply logging into and searching for the free animals. There are just hundreds of them, just staring out at you with these big brown eyes. Notice how many of them are from people who are desperate to find a home for their cat or dog, that they loved, so that they can move over seas, or what have you. I noticed recently that one dog who was on months ago, resurfaced there again, same hungry eyes, same black face, but now under the care of an animal shelter. The subtext to these photos was that if Madeline (three years old Labrador X) wasn’t saved by someone soon, she’d be put down. After all, the RSPCA doesn’t have room for infinite pets, and they have to, as disturbingly as it sounds, make room for the new stock. I’d like to blame the pet owners for not planning ahead for their dog, or the SPCA for having such a restrictive criteria with regards to what people they will let house a dog, but that would be allocating blame without knowing the full story. The only thing I know is that poor Madeline (cat and child friendly), if only she had chosen to be cuter for longer (she likes walks!) she wouldn’t be in this horrible conundrum. Madeline (a quiet temperament, she comes with three leads and a doggie blanket!) she should have known better than to be the pet of somebody who would one day be put into a situation where they were unable to care for her. There ain’t no justice.


About the Author ()

Nic Sando is a god amongst men, fifteen fathoms high he be, with strange and wyrd powers at his disposal. Only a fool won't harken his ears to the east when he hears The Sando man stumping his way.

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. VUW Halls Hiking Fees By 50–80% Next Year
  2. The Stats on Gender Disparities at VUW
  3. Issue 25 – Legacy
  4. Canta Wins Bid for Editorial Independence
  5. RA Speaks Out About Victoria University Hall Death
  6. VUW Hall Death: What We Know So Far
  8. New Normal
  9. Come In, The Door’s Open.
  10. Love in the Time of Face Tattoos

Editor's Pick

Uncomfortable places: skin.

:   Where are you from?  My list was always ready: England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, puppy dogs’ tails, a little Spanish, maybe German, and—almost as an afterthought—half Samoan. An unwanted fraction.   But you don’t seem like a Samoan. I thought you were [inser

Do you know how to read? Sign up to our Newsletter!

* indicates required