Paul Holmes writes a column in the Herald. I only know this because I read the DimPost and he had a link to Paul’s
rant column. You get the idea from this:
Well, it’s a bullshit day, Waitangi. It’s a day of lies. It is loony Maori fringe self-denial day. It’s a day when everything is addressed, except the real stuff. Never mind the child stats, never mind the national truancy stats, never mind the hopeless failure of Maori to educate their children and stop them bashing their babies. No, it’s all the Pakeha’s fault. It’s all about hating whitey. Believe me, that’s what it looked like the other day.
I know what he means. I’m beginning to dislike a particular whitey right now.
I don’t really want to talk about Paul’s view on the Treaty. The right look at the consequences of colonialism and blame the victims. Paul appears to be in this camp on this issue.
What struck me about Paul is that people change. Of course we all get a bit saggier, and wrinklier, and greyer and (if you’re a dude) balder. That’s not what I mean. I mean that people change their views, and can become hard and intolerant rather than open and more compassionate although both courses are open to all of us.
Compassion is a life long chore.
One day, at my last school, I was at the end of my tether with a boy who was always in trouble and always being a dick and always letting people down and always being a prick about it. The wise and compassionate guidance counsellor was in the room when I talked about giving up on that boy, and she looked at me and said: “I always try and remember that they’re just kids.”
Which was sobering. Give up on someone at the age of 14? Well, when you put it like that. Many of the things Paul rants about above are to do with kids: truancy and domestic violence. What should we do Paul? Walk away? We’re the grown ups in the room and it’s our job and the job of the Maori community (after having a tantrum and a sulk) to come back out of our room and try and help.
When we have perfect equality of opportunity in this country regardless of race I suggest we will have the best national day in the world.
A while ago I was writing about 1981 and there was a piece about the new hot young DJ they had at Radio Windy. His name was Paul Holmes and he looked like this (the guy at the top):
During the interview he demonstrated how hip he was:
In the absence of a spare chair Holmes is managing to look intelligent, on the floor, resting his head in a pot plant. He ponders the notion of responsibility. The wonder of irresponsibility. The sad lack of fantasy in our 1980 lives. “By turning reality upside down you can jolt people, shock them profoundly.” “I really believe that if people could say more, give vent to their spleen or sexual hang ups they might just not go out and punch a cop or whatever instead.”
I think that he also wrote a play. It wasn’t a great success but the lead actor got his role in Goodbye Pork Pie off the back of it. Something else I wrote about.
Paul. Take off your suit, let your hair grow out a bit and lay down on the floor. Put your head in a pot plant and think about how people need fantasy. I need it. I always will. And never ever give up on people.