Wherever the US goes, New Zealand follows  - about 10 years later.

I was living in New York in the heady days of  the late 80s.

Sushi bars were everywhere.

I returned to New Zealand and had to wait the better part of a decade before the taste treat was properly adopted here. It’s the same with politics.

We seem to be playing catchup with Uncle Sam.

Around about the time the US was shrugging off 12 years of Reagan-Bush, NZ took a lurch to the right.

Towards the end of the Clinton era we made a left turn only to see the ascendancy of Bush the younger to the northeast.

The winds of change have blown through once more and we’ve gone one way and them the other.

Of course now that the votes are counted there’s some who are wringing their hands together and worrying about the future while others are rubbing theirs together and working out ways to exploit the situation.

That was going to happen no matter who won.

Whatever gets you through the night, right?

I mean different strokes for different folks and all and as voters we’re all entitled to exercise our franchise as we see fit.

And giving the people another avenue to exercise their franchise is Topco Sales a sex toy maker based in California.

Topco’s latest  product is the inflatable “This is NOT Sarah Palin” love doll.

As the press kit says ” TLC and Topco Sales make a sexy political statement with the inflatable “This is NOT Sarah Palin” love doll.

Apparently, This is NOT Sarah Palin is the hottest thing to come out of Alaska in years.

The company makes a few other claims too, but I’ll spare readers delicate eyes the details.

If your eyes aren’t delicate click here.

It’s interesting that Topco deemed it necessary to reassure buyers the doll isn’t actually Sarah Palin, there’s a nasty bit of confusion avoided right there.

It isn’t often that I feel obliged to share my emails with the general public, but I got one the other day from a long-time buddy and sometimes M(o)use Droppings comment writer, Grant from Dunedin.

Grant’s email compares New Zealand political parties to rock bands.

I haven’t had the chance to check out whether or not it’s all his own work; he does have the insider knowledge to come up with such a piece.

However, if you wish to claim ownership then drop me a line.

Anyway here’s the email.

If NZ political parties were rock bands…

National would be The Rolling Stones - absolutely unbeatable in their ’60s and ’70s heyday and blessed with an amazing frontman. They’re still wildly popular of course, but they seem content to recycle their greatest hits and haven’t came up with anything fresh or inspiring for yonks. As for the frontman, well, these days he seems more interested in finance than what’s happening on the street. Think Big is their Dirty Works.

What John Key is to U2’s Edge and Helen Clark is to Walter Becker of Steely Dan, I am to Tommy Lee.

We’re celestial soul mates.

Each of the above pairings were born on the same day of the same year - John and Edge August 9, 1961; Helen and Walter February 26, 1950 and Tommy and I are celebrating our birthdays today. We’re October babies born the third, in 1962.

So by my, admittedly basic, knowledge of astrology each couple must pretty much be the same person.

I know my own life eeriely parallels Tommy’s.

Okay, so his band sold more records than mine, he’s got a few tats and none of my exes have their own reality TV show.

But apart from that were one in the same.

And look at John Key and the Edge.

Both of them are in groups that have attracted the adulation of the masses by proportedly offering something innovative and exciting.

Like U2, National hasn’t had a new idea in 20 years and an original one since um… actually that’s too hard to calculate.

No amount of repackaging or bombast will alter that.

Walter Becker and Steely Dan peaked in the seventies.

There’s a small but, I think, significant part of the Snifter saga that hasn’t been given the attention it deserves.

For those of you who have just arrived in the country or who have been living in dense bush, sweet maker Pascall had decided to discontinue manufacturing that holy trinity of kiwi confectionery, Sparkles, Snifters and Tangy Fruits.

Once the plan was announced last week the backlash began.

Stuff alone received around 650 emails, almost all in support of the beloved lollies.

Social media websites have sprung up in support of the sweets and across the country stocks of them have flown off the shelves.

Some have even suggested that Pascall was announcing that the end was nigh to boost waning sales.

I do like a good conspiracy, but unfortunately this one isn’t going to fly.

You see, the last snifter has rolled off the production line and what’s left in the shops is all that’s left.

When they’re gone they’re gone.

There’s nothing like the directness of the young to set you straight.

The other day I was down at my local skateboard bowl doing old-guy riding when a group of teens started asking me what tricks I could do.

My repertoire is limited at best and I told them so, adding that at my age, 45, I was probably tapering off anyway.

At which point one of the more precocious lads asked me - “are you going to die soon?”

The question didn’t come across as nasty; I think the kid was genuinely curious, rather than just being a smartarse.

It threw me, cos the how and when of my eventual demise isn’t something I tend to dwell on.

Anyway, I answered “not unless I get hit by a car”.

The conversation moved on to whether or not I minded being my age.

My first thought was to quote Batty from Blade Runner - ”I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time… like tears in rain…”

I barely knew you could get heated car seats but now that I have this life changing information it seems they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.

Sure they warm your butt on those frosty mornings but, as with most silver linings, there is a cloud.

The hot seat may in fact be putting a shackle on your tackle.

The good people at New Scientist magazine are reporting a German experiment where 30 virile young men had temperature sensors attached to their scrotums and were made to sit on a heated car seat for 90 minutes.

I know some of you are saying “where do I sign up”, but  it’s not all fun and games at the University of Giessen.

The experiment was to see whether or not the hot seats lifted the guys’ little boys outside the optimal sperm production temperature (1 to 2°C below the core body temperature of 37°C).

Apparently that’s why we carry our testicles outside the main part of the body; it’s not just decorative.

According to the report, an hour in and scrotal temperature had already risen to an average of 37.3°C and one man hit 39.7°C.

Well there go, I’ve been beaten to the punch once again - sort of.

By highlighting some of the country’s more oddball monuments, the publishers of the Lonely Planet guides have inadvertently pinched one of my book ideas.

My Big Things book was to showcase those monstrosities that towns and cities erect to set themselves apart from other places vying for the tourist dollar.

You know, things like the giant carrot at Ohakune, the big kiwifruit slice at Te Puke and the giant L&P bottle in Paeroa.

For the most part these symbols are designed to give a sense of identity and attract tourists. I guess they do, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to want to stay.

Sure, I’ve stopped to check out the bottle, but I didn’t really add too much to the Paeroa economy.

I didn’t even buy a pie, much less a bottle of carbonated sugar water.

However, I’m keen to ride the kiwifruit carts outside Te Puke, but for some reason they weren’t running the day me and my posse were driving through.

You’d expect that, as someone who’s been buying records for more than 30 years, I’d have a vast and varied collection.

While some of my purchases haven’t passed the test of time (Psychedelic Furs anyone?), others still give me the tingles whenever I play them.

The following musical touchstones are a mix of enduring favourites and records I’ve long since given up on but have somehow made me who I am.

Crocodiles - Echo and the Bunnymen 

The song Pride stands out. It’s all about trying to live up to expectations. That’s heady stuff for a teenager with an inferiority complex who did rather well in his exams but was rather unfocused on his career path.

New Values - Iggy Pop

Here’s a little project to keep you busy during the winter months - try knitting a despot.

Rachael Matthews, kniting revivalist and author of such books as Knitorama: 25 Great & Glam Things to Knit, has come up with a new set of patterns for 16 dictator dolls.

These include loathed leaders Hitler (Adolf Knitler) Idi Amin, Pol Pot and Saddam Hussein.

Take a close look at the picture: Knitler seems to have a bit of a gender identity crisis.

He’s definitely got childbearing hips and that pants suit looks like something out of Sex and the City.

Of course these aren’t the sort of dollies you give the average four-year-old, but I find the image of a skinhead tucked up in bed with his little Knitler kind of sweet, in a perverse sort of way.

Knitting a dictator may even be theraputic: after all, the more time you spend making and playing with dolls, the less time they have for inflicting violence on minorities.