spinbadz own

Back in the day, so I'm told, the arrival of "pizza pie" and souvlaki with the football-loving immigrants from (around) southern and eastern Europe added welcome dimensions to life on the united continent.

Even committed "wogball" haters might have found a soft spot for Con the Fruiterer and Nick Shehadie, or a hard spot for Jana Wendt, or a honey (s)pot in the urban and employment dimensions made reality by "new boys" network supremos like Lowy.

Now there is a new immigration challenge.

The old folk used to say that "Asians just don't integrate" (like Christian Europeans do). But of course "they" do integrate. Just, differently.

We're audience to the event, forced also to have a good hard look at our own fears about things unknown. Our world may never be the same again. It so changed after WWII and as it came then, good comes with bad now.

But mostly good.

Now, as education standards lift, "Australia's brainiest kid" is likely to be of Asian ethnicity. Sydney's cuisine variety and quality (and danged prices) are as good, perhaps, as anywhere on earth. The Orthodox church and mosque are part of the cityscape. Congregants enthuse about the A-League and upcoming Dragons and you-know-who games.

They may also, especially the younger ones, talk - in different tones to the general populace - about figures like Osama and al-Zarqawi, and Saddam. As well as about some sponsored local firebrand who would guide their political consciousness.

The Cronulla race riot had, we can safely assume, a bigger effect on such youth than it had on you and I. Speaking for myself I sure have been on the lookout, on occasions, for personal incidents to fill in gaps on what it all, if anything, means to me.

But I wasn't so looking on a driving trip down the NSW south coast over NY.

There we were, 3 people , trekking through a lush national park path to one of those pristine white sand beaches that many non-Australians think exist only on postcards and in dreams, let alone a short drive from Sydney.

Close to the beach we were dismayed by the numbers of fellow holidayers. Though it wasn't like Bondi on Boxing Day or something.

Where the path meets the sand, on this particular beach, was a quirky reminder of Cronulla, being 4 or 5 youth of the recently televised-to-death "Middle Eastern appearance" persuasion, complete with imam-like longbeards.

They were in high spirits and having fun, and certainly there only for that reason. Maybe weirdly, to an extra-cultural and an oldy, like you or me in any clique of youth.

Continuing walking I took note of the (very) ethnically diverse crowd, found a towel spot. Everybody around was in intent getaway mode.

A group of people decided to kick around a soccer ball in the formerly open area right behind us, our quiet enjoyment disturbed by the fear that the ball would eventually come our way, which of course it did.

So the missus (let's call her that, and the other her sister) gives 'em a mouthful. The soccer group (who are Chinese) apologise and move on.

Now we had, of course, fodder for that great Australian beach sport: bagging and talking about the other people on the beach. At least until the next incident a couple of sunbaked hours later.

This time a couple of youth (of "Middle-Et cetera)") decided to plant themselves - after considering miles and miles of private possibilities - about 1 metre in front of us, strategically turning to face away from the water, a view coincidentally spiced with the open legs of two said ladies accompanying.

Now I don't care where you're from or how old you are, if you behave like that and you've hair on your balls then you're a cunt. Thankfully, said state of affairs didn't last for long, girls upping with their towels and scurrying backwards about 15-20 metres. The offending cunts appeared crestfallen, trying to save face by marching away, within inches of the new spot, eyes burning the ladies as they pass.

Over the next few days, and over and above this incident, there are even more exciting gossip-inculcators. Especially: young guys intruding on space, trying to impress women.

Which is, after all, the usual fare on a crowded summer beach downundah.

But one common thing about some of these kids (stress: some. only.) is that, even though testosterone levels and testosterone-motivated actions are a factor regarding all young males, there does here seem to be a particular tendency to openly stare, long and hard and shamelessly, at attractive beach-clad females.

Maybe that's because: some young adults, from some areas maybe without a beach in cooee,

a) just aren't used to this kind of scantiness,
b) carry cultural baggage abhorring it,
c) might be exposed to a strain of thought that such is necessarily a corollary to being a dirty whore, but:
d) love to go to the beach.

However you explain it it's still a pain in the ass. The extreme end of this mindset seems to reject male responsibility for controlling carnal desire.

Anyways, after the holiday, arrived home late evening and flicked on the idiot box.

During the commercial breaks there were detailed and lurid ads for Internet dating sites like "gaymatchmaker.com.au", and other sites promising entreaties from horny housewifes, wife-swappers, threesome seekers (etc., but not kiddy fiddlers and animal persons, yet).

Made me recall that these ads are played night after night on free-to-air.

And wonder whether those angry Muslim preachers railing against western decadence have a point.