"Surrogate grandparents" are a sad sign of the times

Surrogacy is usually defined as having someone else's baby for them. So we often hear about surrogate mothers. But now there's a variation on the term: surrogate grandparents.

It seems that increasing numbers of Australian families are so fractured these days that senior strangers are being asked to fill these traditional family roles. Parents of kids missing the gentle presence of caring codgers advertise for them online so frequently that law firms are issuing warnings about the potential legal complications of the practice.

The whole thing is bizarre and depressing. It's spookily reminiscent of elements of the comedy movie Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star.  In that flick, a former sprog celeb hires a real family to give him the experiences he missed as a child so he can land a part requiring the emotional maturity he never developed. 

Surrogate grandparents -- another phenomenon to go into the "life imitating satire" file, I reckon.

Paul Howes, Olivia Wirth and the wisdom of Henry Kissinger

Australian political junkies will no doubt be aware that AWU head honcho Paul Howes and Qantas corporate affairs spokeswoman Olivia Wirth are an item. This is a notable development, not least because it raises questions about potential conflicts of interest.

Then there's the sheer incongruity of the union (er, the one between them, that is). Now, I don't wanna sound sexist or misogynist here, but as well as being highly capable Ms Wirth also happens to be one undeniably foxy babe. Howes, on the other hand, could never be described as tall, dark and handsome.

You've gotta ask, what's his secret?

The explanation that comes first to mind is that famous line from Henry Kissinger: "Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac."

Yep, it's obviously pretty potent stuff. Not only does it overcome those natural forces that often bring men and women together; it also traverses ideological divides. At first blush union heavies and corporate movers and shakers seem like very strange bedfellows, after all. 

Kalgoorlie couple plead guilty to arson

People can be very, very strange. Take this married couple from Kalgoorlie:

Alan Robert Sloane and Rebecca Louise Sloane pleaded guilty yesterday to a string of arson attacks on homes, businesses and abandoned cars but said they had no explanation for their bizarre behaviour.

I doubt many others could come up with one either. About the only thing I can think of is that the passion had gone from the relationship and this was the only way they could, er, re-ignite it.

If that's the case you've gotta wonder what kind of romantic music they listened to on their inflammatory jaunts. There are heaps of popular songs equating fire with passion, but I think this is the most apposite.

Julia Gillard, feminism and scandals caused by dodgy blokes

Just a thought on this old scandal from Julia Gillard's days as a lawyer: As Bolta is at pains to point out, she didn't actually know she was being implicated in a scam by her then lover Bruce Wilson. But the fact that she was says a lot about how poor her judgement was.

And now, with Craig Thomson, she keeps stressing how much confidence she has in him. That message is clearly partly aimed at Thomson himself, so that he doesn't quit or decide to turn on Labor. But perhaps it's also got something to do with her really trusting the guy. Maybe she actually believes he did nothing wrong or is basically a good guy deep down who deserves her support.

Who knows? In any case she does seem oddly supportive of blokes whose morality clearly leaves a lot to be desired. And this is greatly at odds with her image as an empowered, independent, lefty feminist. These women love to see themselves as aware of and immune to the duplicity of dodgy blokes -- be that in relationships or professional life. Yet they seem to fall for these scumbags and their ruses repeatedly. It's actually really sad.

I've seen it happen to a lot of lefty feminists I've known over the years. Many of them get burned by tricksters who win their affections by striking the requisite politically correct poses. They kowtow to feminism and have all the right (or should I say, left) attitudes to gender relations in particular and politics in general. Yet more often than not they're just dirty dogs deep down.

I've actually come to the conclusion that the syndrome constitutes a kind of iron law. The more a woman spouts lefty feminist dogma about her virtue and good sense over pervasive male rottenness, the more likely it is she'll fall foul of exactly the kind of bloke she so condemns.