Were you awake at 6.30am this morning when your phone screamed at you? No? Well, you fucken should have been.
If the emergency alert woke you up this morning, warning of strong currents and surges occurring after the M8.8 earthquake off the coast of Russia, do you even care about this country?
If the first sound you heard this morning was the blare of imminent death and not the cracking of your bones after three hours of hard work already done, wake the fuck up, patriot.
Moaning on your local Facebook page about whether the emergency alert this morning was too much or just about right, instead of starting a multi-level marketing side hustle on Instagram? You’re the problem, sunshine.
If you weren’t upright, taking a break between your 3-6 before your 9-5 and 5-9 to enjoy the sweet taste of lard on toast, try harder.
In case you haven’t noticed, the country is circling the drain. Hundreds and thousands of dropkicks can’t even get their shit together to enrol to vote and somehow still expect to exercise their franchise in this once proud, organised, optimised and democratic paradise.
The economy is sicker than Thingee when his eyeball popped out on live TV. An additional 21,000 bludgers were getting the Jobseeker benefit in May compared with last year. Yes, the unemployment rate is higher; yes, there are 27,850 fewer jobs in New Zealand in June compared to the year before; and yes, our wages are lower than Australia’s, but these are excuses. As prime minister Christopher Luxon said about shit parents of shit kids not going to school, “There is no excuses. What we have in New Zealand is a culture of excuses.”
Struggling to heat your home as power prices climb? Plant a pine forest and pick up an axe. Clogging our ambulance bays with your weak and infirm bodies? Take a shot of turmeric-infused olive oil and harden up. If you can’t even make a bowl of nachos after sending your kid down the mine, have another one and buy a cow. Young and unemployed? Grow up.
Right now, our government is working hard to get this country back on track. There’s a hotline for road cones and a review of what jobs children can do on farms (the only answer is more). Butter prices have rightly been deemed an enemy of the state, and everything is fine. Infrastructure is happening soon, and if you didn’t feel good after the reminder of an announcement of a reminder announcement on that, take a look in the mirror, sweetheart. If you can’t see the riches that will pour forth when “New Zealand” sits above “Aotearoa” on the cover of our passports, speak English for fuck’s sake and check thyself before thy wrecks thyself. There are no barriers to growth; there are only the limits of your imagination.
National emergency alerts shouldn’t be reserved for tsunami warnings, storms or earthquakes. Roll them out every morning until the very real emergency has passed and every lazy loser and dropkick is out of bed, working more for less, and the nation is great once more.
Get up, snowflakes. Get to work. The country needs you. You survived to 25. If you think someone else is coming with the fix in 26, think again, deadshits. Patriots, that was a wake-up call. Breathe in the new dawn. I love the smell of oil and gas exploration in the morning.
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