I originally intended to frame this column as "the things I will never understand". But it's really just a great big rant - admittedly about things I will never understand. So here goes (cough) ...
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Why as a society do we allow Harley Davidson motorcycles to operate with impunity at a decibel level that's akin to having a plane crash into your face?
If you or I were to emulate the Harley's signature baseball-bat-to-the-ears sound by ripping the mufflers off our cars we'd be pulled over, slapped with a fine and a defect notice and possibly given a lecture by a cop who may or may not own a Harley effin' Davidson.
Pity the poor people who live along Lawrence Hargrave Drive or the South Coast's other scenic routes.
These once idyllic thoroughfares are now catwalks for poseurs who want everyone to look at them as thunder past in a blur of chrome and polished leather tassels all weekend, every weekend.
To add insult to injury, Harley riders have their ears snugly encased in a padded crash helmet that reduces the sound of their bikes to a low hum.
Must be why they call Harleys "hogs" - they hog all the serenity.
Why do the conventions of our federal parliament dictate that MPs are automatically addressed as "the honourable member" for seat X, Y or Z?
Since when does getting your bum elected make you an honourable person? Let's face it, parliament is anything but a showcase of honourable behaviour.
Most days they're flat out being even remotely civil. Honourable people don't scream and interrupt.
Honour hasn't exactly been at the fore in Australian intra-party politics lately either; what with MPs of the same stripe scheming to crush each other's careers and reputations.
It's time we dumped the faux honourable honorific.
Whenever they're addressed in the chamber, I'd prefer MPs were referred to in a way that reminds them that they serve at our pleasure and on our behalf.
For example, Ann Sudmalis from these parts should be called "the representative of the people of Gilmore" and nothing more - except maybe Ann, or Mrs Sudmalis.
Why do toilet paper manufacturers go to the trouble and extra cost of printing coloured patterns on their product?
Surely they understand that the "eye" that gets most intimate with these intricately printed artworks can't actually see anyway?
It's just ... I can't ... I just ... it's up there with the dumbest, most pointless things humanity does.
Who decided we have to call every infant marsupial Joey?
Why not go for something more quintessentially Australian, just like the mammals themselves? And why not have different names to suit the various species?
How about kangaroos in the pouch go by the name Robbo? A baby wombat could be called Mick; infant koalas could be Cazzas (as in Caramello) and little possums could be Ednas.
While we're on names, why did the creators of Ashley Madison - the infamously hacked web-based hub with the motto "Life is short. Have an affair" - name the business Ashley Madison?
Did they ever stop to think how the people around the world who are actually named Ashley Madison might feel about forever being associated - literally by name - with cheating on your spouse?
Here are some alternative business names I believe are less oblique and which don't smear people who happen to be named Ashley Madison:
- Cheat On Your Missus.com
- My Vows Meant Nothing To Me.net
- Hub For Grubby Hubbies.com.au
When we speak of the political divide, why do we refer to the left wing and the right wing?
What have birds or planes got to do with belief in a free market or strong socialist principles, or whether climate change is absolute crap or the greatest moral challenge of our time?
Let's just go with right and left and leave wings - and thus Paul McCartney - out of it.
Speaking of musicians, what, exactly, is the appeal of John Farnham?
He whimpered onto the scene in 1967 with the twee ditty "Sadie the Cleaning Lady" - the film clip to which finds Farnesy executing one of the most constipated dances in the history of entertainment (if you've never seen it, go to YouTube for a laugh).
As a piece of music, "Sadie" is an unadventurous, jokesy plonker one can imagine a young John Howard blithely whistling back in 1955.
At the same time in England, however, The Beatles had just released Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
They were tripping on LSD, putting flowers in the hair of a generation and changing the trajectory of music and pop culture forever.
Meanwhile the Rolling Stones were throwing rocks at the monarchy on Their Satanic Majesties Request.
Back here in the colony though, Farnesy was awkwardly shuffling about in slacks and sneering at the woman who cleaned his flat:
"Scrub your floors, do your chores, dear old Sadie, Looks as though you'll always be a cleaning lady."
Nice sentiment - if you happen to be John Howard.
And don't even get me started on "You're the Voice". How on earth did that ever become a hit? In it, Farnham implores us to "try and understand it."
Well Johnny, I've tried and I don't. Nor do I understand the album titleWhispering Jack? There's no whispering on it at all.
Of All the things Tony Abbott did as Prime Minister of Australia that caused him to poll like a lead balloon - and ultimately required his removal - why did he think it was necessary to eat those raw onions?
It's the sort of gag you could imagine being scripted for Ralph Mouth in an episode of Happy Days - complete with canned laughter at the first bite.
It's the kind of stupid thing teenage boys do for a dare! But the Prime Minister? In front of a media scrum? I will never understand it.
Craig Henderson is a regular contributing columnist with Fairfax Media. His sometimes irreverent but always amusing writing style has earnt him fans across the country.
Craig features every Wednesday in this paper.