You see, all I ever wanted was for people to be nice to each other, to respect each other – it made sense at the time. But some people were threatened by me. Media owners and politicians in particular used some nasty tricks to try and finish me off. They said I was dangerous, naïve, dirty. They said I was a communist, an anarchist, un-Australian, anti-Christian. They told people not to listen to what I said.
I’ve had other names: multiculturalism, fair go, and decency. Now all of my names have become dirty words. When my enemies say I’m a do-gooder, they mean I’m a bad person. They call me a bleeding heart; they mean I’m a trouble masker. These days I’m a traitor, a terrorist, and a fringe dweller. When I complain, they say I’m paranoid. If I speak out too often, they say I’m a professional agitator – part of the rent-a-mob. These days I’m unpopular. I’m uncool. I’m a figure of fun.
Well. Nobody listens to me anymore, so I’m calling it quits. I was obviously wrong. How can you argue against the majority? From now on I’ll be taking their advice. Selfishness can bring happiness. You don’t need other people. Enjoy the suffering of others; it’s not real anyway. Why do you need a community when you can get a home theatre on hire purchase?
If I’d only kept my mouth shut, I could have slipped into anonymity. By now I would have paid off my suburban home and my four-wheel-drive. On my annual two-week holiday, I could pretend I was important as I strutted down Hastings Street, Noosa – in my Nikes and Benetton. My kids would have been educated at the finest schools. There’s no way they’d be doing arts or humanities, I’d push them as hard as I could to get the points for law or economics. They’d be well up the corporate ladder by now. I’ve been stupid, but not too stupid to realise there’s still time to change.
From now on I’ll be a patriot. I’ll raise a Union Jack, or a stars and stripes, on my front lawn. I’ll cancel my Age subscription and read the Herald Sun at McDonalds every morning. I’ll set my radio to 3AW and ban all mention of Phillip Adams and John Pilger from my home. My children will not watch Insight or Dateline, I’ll glue the remote buttons to commercial TV. It’ll be Big Brother followed by Funniest Home Video every night. From now on I’ll be known as John Citizen, the man in the street. Who knows, I may win tattslotto, or a pokies jackpot. I’ll stick the ‘be alert be aware’ magnet to my fridge and ensure the authorities are aware of the swarthy looking person with bad English who recently asked me for directions. I’ll show no concern when thousands die overseas. I won’t care about other peoples’ disasters – unless it’s an American disaster, in which case I’ll glue bumper stickers to my car and place flowers on the steps of parliament.
I’ll find others just as selfish as me. Together we can justify ourselves with Aboriginal jokes and Herald Sun surveys. We can compare property prices. We can talk about Holdens, Fords and footy teams. We can visit each other’s homes for barbies and show off our latest purchases. We’ll be best friends, until we realise we hate each other. Then I’ll just make some new best friends.
This will be my new life. I’ll do the right thing. I’ll have no responsibilities, no conscience. I may complain, from time to time, about petrol prices and taxes, but I’ll only complain to my friends.
I’ll be good from now on.
I promise.