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Wednesday, 13 April 2011

Strange Assange

Julian Assange, eh?
What a guy! The Wikileaks founder has become a hero to millions – millions of ‘I’ll-protest-against-injustice-as-long-I-don’t-have-to-test-a-principle-and-can-be-home-in-time-for-Neighbours’ types, that is.
Like pretty much everybody else who doesn’t work for The Age and isn’t Kevin Rudd, I haven’t bothered to log on to Wikileaks.
I’ve read and listened to the headlines and filed it away in that little vault in the memory bank where I store stunning revelations such as a 20-something-year-old football player earning a zillion dollars a week (Wayne Rooney) being caught out sleeping with prostitutes and anything to do with Lara Bingle.
Really, who cares? The only three Australian voters who didn’t need Wikileaks to tell that Kevin Rudd was a complete tool seem to be the editor, deputy-editor and leader-writer for The Age newspaper, which was all over the ‘stunning revelations’ like a Labor Minister on a focus group.
Rudd was front and centre and a few others got a mention, but without doubt the most fascinating man in the Wikileaks/diplomatic cables affair is the exotically named Assange.
Equally without doubt, this is exactly the result that Assange was aiming for when he agreed to be the front man for the whole shebang.
Most amateur psychologists would call a Walter Mitty-type personality.
(Professional psychologists would call him often, given that he is a guaranteed ticket to the up-graded Merc, the new boat and the house with the view of the bridge and the opera house.)
As far as I can work out, Assange is a hi-tech version of Uri Geller; a magician-cum snake oil salesman who sucked in a lot of people into thinking he was some sort of messiah.
And boy, doesn’t Wally lap it up.
Lying low with a few trusted members of the resistance, he instructs his lawyer to tell the world that if anything should happen to him, he will unleash the full fury of the Wikileaks cables.
No longer is he Julian Assange, knockabout nobody from Dullsville, no, he is Fidel Castro armed with a full battery of missiles should Kennedy leave Marylin’s embrace long enough to try to give him grief.
Arrested and held for a few days, he emerges from court to blather on about his interminable internment in the basement of a Victorian prison and all of a sudden he is Edmund Dantes, the Count of Monte Cristo!
Blathering a bit more about the long hours (about 27, by my count) of isolation, he solemnly informs us that he used his time in the box to reflect on life and discovered a desire to help all prisoners of conscience; thus he is no longer the erstwhile Count, no, he is Nelson Mandela.
A few days later, while trapped in the unrelenting misery of the English country mansion, of a squillionaire supporter, to which he has been condemned, Assange rails against the release of information concerning the sex charges which a few legal types in Sweden would like to ask him about.
The details, apparently, have been LEAKED by Swedish authorities. The bastards! To leak official information is just, well, beyond the pail. No longer is he Wally-Fidel-Edmund-Nelson Assange, he is now Wally-Fidel-Edmund-Nelson-Richard Nixon Assange.
But wait! Wally is not finished yet! Oh no, he decides to fight back. He releases details of the Swedish sexual encounters himself to prove his innocence – not to mention his prowess in the sack!
Behold, he is no longer ne’er do well Julian from Townsville, he is Wally-Fidel-Edmund-Nelson-Richard-Casanova Assange!
Now it becomes clear. Wally-Fidel-Edmund-Nelson-Richard-Casanova is not out to destroy the free world at all, he’s just this geek who likes to shag Swedish women at conferences and release secret diplomatic cables fed to him by somebody else.
And he is going to tell the whole world about in a book. A book for which he will be paid a zillion dollars, though it is a book he doesn’t want to write, he just needs the money to fund his defence.
No longer is he Wally-Fidel-Edmund-Nelson-Richard-Casanova Assange. No, he is Wally-Fidel-Edmund-Nelson-Richard-Casanova-Earnest Hemingway-Assange.
He is also, like Rudd, a complete tool.
While Wally laps it up, the poor bastard who nicked all of the official gear which gives Wikileaks its reason for existence and feeds Wally’s lust for fame, is sitting in a US military prison facing 10,000 years in jail.
I might be wrong, but I haven’t heard Wally mention this fact – a fact that may be pertinent when you realise that Wikileaks has, so far, released nothing but secret US documents.
Clearly, the Chinese, the Russians, the Iranians and the Abyssinians have no secret documents to leak. Either that or Wally is just a cowardly nobody with an eye for the main chance.
Which would make Wally just like an old acquaintance of mine, who we shall call Doug.
Doug, bless him, would rail for hours on end about the injustice of the US-led invasions of Iraq.
To do him credit, when I put it to him that the real human rights violations were being perpetrated by Saddam Hussein, Doug was happy to admit that Saddam was a bad person.
When I told him I would respect his principles more if he flew to Baghdad and marched down the main street holding a banner that said: ‘Saddam is a criminal and should resign’ he got a bit antsy and said no because it was a "stupid idea".
It was stupid, of course, because it would most likely have led to Doug having to a stand up for his principles to the point of being dragged off to one of Saddam’s prisons and being fed his own testicles, instead of sitting safe and sound at home taking pot shots at the bad, mad Yanks.
Piously kicking the metaphorical crap out of the US is easy, because by and large the US respects the right of people to kick the crap out of it and doesn’t feel the need to string said people up by the testicles if they do so.
When Assange takes on the Chinese, the Russians, the Iranians and the Abyssinians I’ll believe his rhetoric.
Until then, he is just another Wally-Fidel-Edmund-Nelson-Richard-Casanova-Earnest Hemingway-Doug-Assange-Mitty with an eye for a bit of Swedish crumpet, some free cash and television cameras.

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