Story by Emmjay
Every New Year’s Eve, I ponder the enormously wasteful spectacle of the New Year’s Eve Fireworks display over Sydney Harbour. I think about how we are colluding in the sending of 6 tonnes worth of exploding air pollution over the magnificent Sydney Harbour Bridge and environs.
And I think about the huge cost of the fireworks that might otherwise pay for a bit of accommodation for Sydney’s homeless folk. Yes, yes, I get it – tourists will spend millions of their hard earned cash to crowd the foreshores to watch the same crap year after year after year. Fortunately this year, there’ll be some kind of allocation of paid perv spots, assiduously policed to make sure that the great unwashed and mostly tanked up masses play by the rules of Covid commerce.
But then… somebody has come up with the brilliant multi-functional use of skyrockets to send grandpa and grandma’s ashes into the inky near-blackness of a Sydney night sky – for distribution all over the Bridge and environs – and hopefully on the bonces of the nonces in attendance. Of course they wouldn’t do that, would they ? Sydney councils being what they are, I’m betting that an exceptionally low orbit arc for Nan and Pop might more likely end up over the municipal tip, or just outside the metro area. A shot into the hinterland, if you will.
The above photo is real ! Courtesy of the Marrickville Metro carpark. I put it down to somebody with a friend in the car sign-writing business watching too much Netflix.
For those of us insufficiently well-heeled to spit a bit of our ancestors into space, the final send-off might well be … light the blue touch paper, stand back and see off a rello … a few hundred feet up, up and away. Not with a whimper, but a bang – or a starburst or whatever. And heaven forbid if your Pop’s celestial vehicle is a fizzer.
The world we seem to be living in is bizarre beyond belief. You couldn’t make this shit up !
This year I am determined to not watch Jeremy Fernandez, Zan Rowe and Charlie Pickering pushing barrow-loads of faux mirth up a very steep hill, introducing B and C grade performers blasting it out in front of the Opera House. My resistance tank is empty. I just cannot face this again.
But in the spirit of camaraderie of the patrons and contributors to the Pig’s Arms, I wish you, one and all, a far less crappy 2022, a bucket of Pink Drink or Trotter’s Ale and immunity to whatever you need to be immune.
Stay tuned for our latest Pig-Tel development – Pig-Tel Bullshit Repellent.
Fond regards,
Emmjay.
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
I’d hardly call Jimmy Barnes, Missy Higgins and Tina Arena, B and C listers.
It actually wasn’t that cringeworthy this year.
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I really wished for less of Charlie and his offsider. The concert was fabulous so too the fireworks. I watched the fireworks display through, however, in reflection on my late friend and once custodial responsibility in his late teenage years, Tony. Tony lived a troubled life and despite it, it was apparent to me nevertheless he yearned for beauty, perfection. Tony was a rare creative talent. Fireworks, of his many skills was his eventual passion especially designing the digital sequences that make the big bangs. I kept my own counsel. Tony educated and lit up my life too in many ways when he was a juvenile needing care. The fireworks display this NY celebration was so magnificent it felt to me like communication to us all from beginning to end what is possible. For me on this personal level it provided some healing, from a sense of loss. I was able to watch it with the considerable advantage of seeing this through Tony’s drive and perspective.
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I like Zan Rowe, listen to her regularly. There was less of them this year I thought. She and I have cryptic conversations (very brief) over the digital airwaves. I thought the fireworks were particularly good this year especially the 9pm. I know there are some that think they are a waste of time and money. This year they bought some entertainment after what was a pretty shitty year for most.
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The 9 pm one was excellent. Toned down and thoughtful.
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Thanks Emmjay. Did you or any readers know that there are no ashes. It is ground up bones. They don’t blow away in the wind. They fall to the ground. It is a selection of the deceased. If you want you can get three containers of ashes to share with the family.
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Meant to type “ashes”.
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Yes that’s right viv. We scattered some of Mrs A’s ashes in some places, it just fell to the ground, well in his case near the mouth of Margaret River. Definitely no dust dust.
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Absolutely correct. I wish had been warned that the movie version is just wrong.
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May I please put in a pre-order for the next product in the range? A case of it, please.
My credit card details are: oh, wait, would you prefer my bank account details instead?
Here’s to a really boring 2022. Hugs and stuff.
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You would never truly deal with boring, I swear it. 🙂
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