Rupert, frontrunner to manage the ABC. Because he already does.

We’ve been doing quite a bit of soul searching. After our experience in the presence of Lord Rupert of Murdoch, we see things differently. And from now on, we choose to make a difference to our society and bring benefits and delight to those who choose the correct path. 

Lord Rupert has given us this much. A sense of ourselves.  Wheras once we used to think that humans, society and the commonwealth could be elected, by deep thought, dignity and the spirit of equity, we know now that this is untrue. We shouldn’t try too hard.  And obey only one law. The law of Murdoch which says, “be humble, know thy place, and observe power that canot be stemmed, for it is for thy own good”. 

Barnaby, Good as GOLD!!

Could we start by congratulating the ABC board on removing Michelle Guthrie. The board are on the ball.  And with a bit of luck communication between the board and it’s titular head Sir Rupert, Lord of Murdoch is absolute. Pesky journalists must learn, not to bite the hand that feeds it. And the hand, let this be known, is not the taxpayer, but Lord Rupert. And Lord Rupert is not pleased, that after extensive talent searches, they always, (the abc board) come up with the wrong appointments. 

So here’s a few pointers, and we hope someone on board, (nice pun), takes heed. 

For the new CEO?

Our first choice is Barnaby Joyce.   He’d make a good head.  He’s good at talking and he is undoubtedly a champion of the ordinary person. He can make connections. That’s why he’s special envoy for the Murray Darling. He can connect people on the river with irrigators. And irrigators with the people. And the people with the rivers.  And the irrigators to ensure the funding for fish, ecosytems and the entire biota is redirected to irrigators. And the bonus is the same irrigators will get huge bonuses paid for by the taxpayer. To make huge profits and employ someone to turn those rivers of water. INTO RIVERS OF GOLD!!! 

Tone! A man of conviction,who never lets new ideas get in the way of CERTAINTY!!

Barnaby would be a shoe-in for the ABC. Do a better job of connecting than Michelle Guthrie did, and make the ABC relevant by relocating the entire organisation to the headwaters of the Darling, or the Diamintina. With up to date reporting on farming issues and how to open up useless country for industrial scale farming. 

Tony Abbott would be a front runner. He knows about certainty. That’s what the ABC needs. It needs certainty. Only one program provides certainty, Q and A. And with Q and A pushing the intervention, Tony can rightly say it’s been a catalyst for certainty and incarceration of Aboriginal Australians right across the country. And that’s good news for the shareholder. 

Tony Abbott, has conviction!

But,  there is a journalist for the job. Technically speaking he may not be a journalist, but he’s a great thinker.  Alan Jones.  He’s clever, insightful and knows how to arrive at the right conclusion, and how to question those who dare question. 

So it’s a conundrum. A conundrum for Lord Rupert. A conundrum for whoever may be the Prime Minister at any time. And a conundrum for the board. 

So who would best serve the ABC?

Our answer? Roman Quadvelig. He brings security and safety to the ABC, and an unquestioning ability to balance the needs of the public. 

For himself.

Roman, reliable, forthright and untroubled by uncertainty

For our own good. 

Hi friends (and others),

On top of the Google Search for “safety and security what is the difference between” you find:

“The basic idea of both is protecting assets from hazards/threats creating safe/secure conditions. The condition safety is about being protected, while the condition security is about being free from danger. The differences between being protected and being free from danger or threat are not easily seen.”

Interesting that- I was hoping for an explanation in relation to people rather than assets.

According to other entries the main difference is that security is from deliberate threats and safety is from accidental threats.

Melbourne University Student Union’s Magazine “Farrago” was first published in 1925. Half way through its lifetime I got to look forward to it and avidly read it. A much more enjoyable pursuit than swotting for exams.

A regular feature of the magazine was a multi-panelled cartoon called “Tex”.

On one occasion Tex was constructing a wire fence. On completion of the enclosure, in the final panel, Tex was standing in the middle and proclaimed in a loud voice “GOTCHAZ!!!”

Ever since, I have not been able to look at a security fence without briefly pondering- did it aim to keep people/animals/or whatever, in or out?

Walls have the same effect on me.

When in 1971 we travelled through Panama (on our way back to Australia from Canada), the 1964 riots were still fresh in Panamanian minds, I was told that the fence separating the Panama Canal Zone from Panama City had been torn down by hand by angry crowds

From Wikipedia I learn that Colombia’s ambassador to the Organization of American States was quoted as saying  “In Panama there exists today another Berlin Wall”

When the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, much of the world was ecstatic. Will we ever learn? World-wide, fence and wall erecting is booming. Is it making the world a safer and more secure place?

Bonnie Raitt- ‘Silver Lining’ ….Shine it till the walls come tumbling down…..

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcDaAr3EPqI

Well, every dark cloud has it’s silver lining. The numerous walls and fences being erected around the world, engender the possibility that ecstatic crowds will get to tear them down!

 Woodie Guthrie- ‘This land is your land’:

….There was a big high wall that tried to stop me, a sign was painted said ‘private property….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XaI5IRuS2aE

From my dad’s anecdotes:

APRIL’07- In the villa, there was a telephone exchange. Everyone had been invited to Mr. Otten (one of the suppliers)’s birthday party. The villa had been left almost vacant. Lucas and I stayed behind. Before the war, Lucas had served on Dutch submarines, and he therefore had a good understanding of electronics. Whilst I kept a look out, Lucas went to work. Not only did he cut wires, but he also cross-wired and soldered wires together. Lucas had his eye on the beautiful curtains, and I had to dissuade him from taking them (“are you off your rocker? Hurry up we’ve got to get out of here!”). It all took too long and we disturbed the guards. The front gate had been locked. We had to leave through the heavily guarded back. We flew over the back yard and over the two meter high wall, and if we’d been in the Olympics we’d both would have got medals! A group of Ukrainian guards with their guard dogs chased us. We ran off (more medals!) and escaped into a garden……

…..The next morning we turned up for work as per usual. “Good morning Mr. Breitruck” “Good morning??…don’t you know what happened last night? Some bastards came in last night and destroyed the telephone exchange. They knew what they were doing” “How did they get away?” “There, over that wall, through that mine field…” “Ah well, mine-field, mine-field, what mine-field? There are signs ‘Danger Mines’ all over the place…” “THERE, THERE ARE MINES!” When he said that, I could taste my breakfast in my mouth! It turned out the telephone exchange was far more important to the Germans than we had ever imagined.

(This is my English translation from an anecdote told to me in Dutch with German dialogue – If you wish to receive a copy of the unabridged “foreign” original- just say so)

It is said that at the Parliamentary canteen in Canberra, they’re running short of knives. We have once again had our Prime Minister replaced. These days Australian politics deny me the excitement of being surprised,

The appointment of Tony Abbott as a Special Envoy to Indigenous Australia came as no surprise. All one had to do is think what would have been the worst possible choice, and presto!  I was thinking how best to express myself on this bizarre and insulting occurrence, when my friends at ‘pcbycp’ http://www.pcbycp.com/  (Passive Complicity by Cockburn and Poole) saved me the trouble:

“Aboriginal Australians know they’ve got a man of action as their special protector. Not since Augustus Robertson have Aboriginal Australians been so protected by a man who’s got a handle on their problems. And he’s got the  equipment to ensure that their problems will be looked at and possibly augmented with better incarceration, better disenfranchisement, and better isolation, better as he famously said; to equip them for their ‘lifestyle choices’.”

As it says at the beginning of this Dispatch: “The condition safety is about being protected”

What Australia needs, is an Abbott Proof Fence.

Frank

Rosemary Clooney ‘Don’t Fence me in’….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXg6-A-Dkfs

Peter Gabriel – Ngankarrparni (Sky Blue) – The Rabbit-Proof Fence

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qi0RL1ze12Y

Dear reader, as you recall, we’d almost got out of Federal Parliament with most of our five hundred million intact, when we were tapped on the shoulder. What follows is a description of such inescapable fear, loathing and humiliation, we suggest for the old, young and infirm, they stop reading right now, and listen to the soothing strains of local abc radio.

As we descended we came across skeletons of those who’d perished in trying to change Parliament. Skeletons of WOMEN!

Down we went, past the guards who saluted their leader, and through a sucession of very elaborate doors. As each door boomed and closed behind us, another door, double bolted, solid armour plate and concrete, swung open. And through each apeture the corridor grew narrower and narrower as we walked through another door and another and then another. WE were crawling now, deep deep down into the bowels of whatever passes for the subterranean realm of tunnels beneath parliament house. Tunnels of which the very existence is scarcely known and as legend hath it, used to lead directly to the very centre of the earth, and onwards through to the corridors of power in the People’s Republic of China. 

I tried to reassure Mrs Coldtart that Peter meant her no harm!

After following Peter dutifully for over an hour, we  found ourself crawling along what semed to be an airconditioning duct. It was dark and clammy. And just as members of  our more senior entourage were flagging, we arrived at an antechamber. Inside the antechanber, which was not much bigger than a small room, we were told to wait. From an apeture in the  wall, a door opened, Within six suits all white with crosses on the breast pocket.  Peter motioned us to don them, we obediently did. 

We were asked to don these strange white suits

Peter then commanded  us to sit down. He also commanded “men this side, women this side”. We complied. What else could we do? We all felt an ominous sense of foreboding. But as we were now under the very depths of Parliament, we thought it wise to comply. As we sat, in a small circle, waiting for the next move the room became dim, the single naked globe flickered, spluttered, and then with a spasm went out. WE were plunged in darkness. Mrs Coldtart our stenographer began to whimper, for a moment it seemed all was lost until we became aware of a dull bluish glow. By degrees it got brighter and brighter until all of us were bathed in a shimmering light. Peter, outlined in his splendour, stood tall and resolute, placed his hands in prayer and looked up. Incredibly a void opened up and from up above a light more incandescent than a thousand suns shone forth. 

It looked for all the world like the light of GOD! 

WE were stilled, paralysed with anticipation, till a voice spoke. A powerful voice. A voice strangely familiar. And it said, “ Who are you, and why do you seek the role of women in parliament” ? Cecil offered a meek reply, ‘Cos we want to know why’? 

But the voice went on, as if we didn’t exist. “Who are these people’? Peter Dutton replied as if mesemerised, as if controlled by an invisible force;  “ordinary folk”! 

The voice then boomed; “Why do they come’?, Peter replied again; “curiosity”, and then the voice, “Why should they LIVE then’? 

We trembled, Peter replied, “for they work, pay taxes to you my LORD,  and do thy bidding”, and the voice then boomed, ‘Stand’!! 

” I am RUPERT Lord of MURDOCH’!

We all stood up. The voice proclaimed this; 

“I am RUPERT Lord of Murdoch. I am government. I am the people. I am the Australian singularity. It is I who bring self loathing! It is I who tell you what you cannot do! It is I who make and destroy Prime Ministers and Cabinet. First Law of Murdoch, there are to be no women in parliament unless they are given unto me. For I am all seeing and all powerful. There is no other law than Murdoch. There is no truth other than Murdoch. There is no existence other than Murdoch.  Obey me, or DIE’!!

In an instant the light went out. And we knew nothing. 

Cecil and I were strangely drawn to the evil power. It was INESCAPABLE!!.

Was it a dream? 

We found ourselves back at pcbycp headquarters. Our money had evaporated. Like it never existed. Clarrie said “it’s like we never went to Canberra and the whole thing never happened”. WE thought of ringing the ABC, but we were too scared. Lord Rupert owned it, and  no one would believe us, and even if they did, we had such a sense of foreboding we knew, that to speak would spell doom. Doom and the eternity of knowing that we’d crossed an inviloate force, and from there-on would be oblivion. And we knew deep down, though we dared not admit it, that something inside us had changed. Changed us FOREVER!

Only the other day Mrs Coltart quipped; “Good thing there are NO women in the Liberal party. The whole idea is absurd. What use are they anyway’? WE all agreed, something had changed in our view of things, but the manner of it was inexplicable. WE knew, but dared not to question. And we knew within there was now a void. There was nothing we could do about it. And we also knew, as if our minds had been cleansed in our ignorance, there was peace. And in not knowing there was contentment. We’d seen the light in the beautiful darkness. Lord Rupert had spoken.  Women in the parliamentary Liberal Party is a non issue

The real issue is;  Colingwood plays Richmond friday night. 

And what is wrong with Dustin Martins Knee? 

Continued from the previous blog….

As promised we received the money in two plain envelopes. 

The envelopes were marked in clear print, “Clean Energy Fund” and within each envelope, (they were big envelopes) we found cleanly and efficiiently bundled two hundred and fifty million dollars. At first we thought, there must be some mistake, but when we rang the Minister for Energy, his department, the secretary, the cleaner, no one had any knowledge of the money. 

Minister for Women, Kelly O Dwyer. Sporting High viz para military prototype safety vest to identify and protect women in Parliament.

So we did what any normal person would do, we bought some very expensive tea rather than the Home Brand stuff we get from the market, and booked ourselves on international flights, to Italy, France, the U.K, Germany and Russia, to do a fact finding tour. A tour we thought was essential just to see what other countries do with women in politics.  Booked it all first class, cos fact finding is hard case stuff, and just before leaving, we thought a side trip to Canberra, may give us a briefing. A “heads up” as they say, and a strategy for how to spend the half billion which may give the taxpayers “value for money”

Kelly trialling another prototype para military low viz, (camouflage) flak jacket and bullet supressing couch in Liberal Party Bunker annex, IPA Headquarters. Location undisclosed.

WE thought given the staggering drop in participation of females in the party it had to do with external factors. Some strange alchemy at work from outside the party, rather than a toxic environment within the party itself. Because as we saw it, the Liberal party upheld a great tradition of women senators. Doing important things, like upolding the rights of women to do what women do best. Portfolios, in home care, knitting and womens issues. This was our starting point. We asked the party heads, what they knew about womens issues, and were directed to Kelly O Dwyer, Minister for Women. We figured, feeling responible now we had half a billion dollars to spend on resolving this vexed issue, that she would at least give us a strategy from which to divine the truth. To our surprise, she said; “I don’t have any idea about what you should do with the money. As a matter of fact, I have no idea why I’m here. I asked for a job in the catering department and was given Minister for Industrial Relations. I have no experience in this field, but I’m told if I keep wages down, supress fair arbitration, ensure that casual workers get less, and big companies don’t pay tax, I’ve got a job for life. But as for women I haven’t got a clue. Its not core policy’. 

Before we were finished with our tea and biscuits she abruptly showed us the door, and said: ” Gotta go now. Got an important job to do which I must perform every fifteen minutes’, and before we could say “What the’? , she started shouting “unions unions, bloody unions”, and started punching the door and kicking the tasteful marble coffee table with her stilettos. 

Kelly vainly seeks protection by standing close to PM. She is wearing high viz suicide vest just in case she is targeted before PM is, in another unprovoked drive-by shooting.

We were ushered into a hallway, a bit let down, and as we walked down a series of long corridors, we felt we were being watched. It’s an uncanny feeling, but there was this ominous presence, and it made us feel uneasy. Good thing then we had a couple of million stuffed into each pocket, cos Kelly had warned us, that if you’re in a fix in parliament it helps to have deep pockets. We also noticed that there were no politicians, they all seemed to be shut in their offices, just all these shady figures loitering. They seemed poised to snatch any polly who ventured into the corridor. “The corridors of power” Cecil whispered. They also had money bulging from pockets. After some deliberation, we knew they must be lobbysists, the most powerful forces at work in the Australian body politic. 

WE were told not to look directly at them, for the curse would be worse than the curse of Medusa. So glumly we walked on. Not able to shed any light on the Liberal Women conundrum. 

And just as we reached the parliamentary perimeter, with guards dressed in Border Force uniforms. And just as we had our visitor passes, reviewed, scanned and removed, we were tapped on the shoulder.  In shock we turned, It was Peter Dutton. He looked strangely awkward, and before we could say “ambush’, he said, solemly, “ there’s someone who wants to see you”. 

And grimly, like those being led to the executioner, we meekly followed, 

Minister for Fear, Incarceration and Dostoyevsky Peter Dutton, insists we accompany him. He is also trilalling low viz Border Force camoflague Black ops uniform.

To be continued. 

Anne Sudmalis. Alleged “woman” representing the Liberal Party.

Dear reader, we were delighted yesterday. It seems the ignoble, isolating, and remote task of maintaining a blog, a benign form of romantic delusional self indulgence, has just been given a lift. Just yesterday at 3.30 pm we were contacted by the Liberal party. A man, who’s wish is to remain anonymous, and represents the highest ranked offical within the party, commissioned us to do some ground- breaking research. Entrusting us to do something about the status of women!

In short we were flabbergasted, but deeply honoured. We asked him, after we had recovered from the shock, “Did the people from the Great Barrier Reef foundation respond in a similar manner when they had been awarded the five hundred million’? He replied, insouciantly, “Well, they took it in their stride. You see, the lobbyists that work for defence, energy and the environment ensure the “right stuff” gets bought. They know that with the right connections, they can assume the money will flow to the “correct” channels. That’s how funding works in government. We dont hand out to any ordinary charity. We hand it to the one where our mates are there to ensure it goes to the right mates. That’s what gave Australia Gallipoli and all that, the “Greatness of Mateness”. 

Well then why did you choose us? (we asked)

Two more women who’ve infiltrated the party and until recently gone undercover as BLOKES!

His answer was simple and straight to the point, 

Grant Shulz, who is to replace Ann Sudmalis. Real Estate Agent and Liberal POWERBROKER!

‘You are independent, and we’ve done a bit of research. You and your readership of three know what integrity is all about. We have no idea what integrity is. We asked the bloke who’s replacing Anne Sudmalis, and he reckons integrity is something to do about checking the section 18 before you sign off on a new real estate deal. He represents the new breed within the party, the Real Estate agent. But, though that’s our strength, real estate and vested interests, we absolutely, (and I’ve gotta be honest here), know fuck-all about women. We know less about women than we do renewables. And most of the backbench, have never heard of women doing much beyond ” home duties” also. Some of them reckon their mothers may have been women, but are not sure.  You see real estate is not like women. That’s why we like to source our new generation of representatives, either from the IPA, or Real Estate.  With Real Estate, you get the certainty.  With sheilas, (he corrected), with women, you never know which way the wind is blowing. 

Women are a bit like the Abo’s. You’d think they’d be a little more greatful for just being there and having a bit of money tossed in their general direction, and an army of bureaucrats making big money pretending to help. But it’s more complex than that. We find their ingratitude is at the heart of it.  And we want you to do some heavy duty fact finding. You are independent, don’t work with the certainty of  Real Estate, and may have a insight that could help us out.”

Apologies. The real Grant Schultz. Family man, Real Estate Agent, and Conservative non thinking person.

But, (we asked), Do you want women in your party?  “Not really, but that’s immaterial.  We’ve gotta look like we like women. It’s a bit like when we made Adam Goodes Australian of the year. Some of the blokes hated the idea, but it had to be done to show we were really keen on recognition. Even though we don’t want a bar of it. That’s why we made Tony, the special envoy for Aboriginal Australians, to show we had a sense of humour and they can choke on their fucking reconcilliation. Hadn’t laughed so much since Gough made Vince Gair special envoy to Ireland. 

Then he said, 

“You’ll get the money in installments. In plain envelopes delivered to your door. We’ve diverted money from the clean energy fund. We know you can DO IT’!!. 

And before we’d offered our thanks the phone went dead. 

To be continued…..  

So reassuring to know that our Prime Minister is guided by superstition and myth now turned into Christian theology – which “induces a dogmatic belief that we have knowledge where in fact we have ignorance, and by doing so generates a kind of impertinent insolence towards the universe.” (Bertram Russell).  2,400 years ago Epricurus (341 – 270 BC)  wrote of the dangers of these superstitions and two hundred years later his philosophy was articulated and refined in Titus Lucretius Carus’ epic poem “The Nature of Things”.  Here we present a few lines of this 7000 line epic.

From Book 1 Matter and Void.

One thing I am concerned about: you might, as you commence
Philosophy, decide you see impiety therein,
And that the path you enter is the avenue to sin.
More often, on the contrary, it is Religion breeds
Wickedness and that has given rise to wrongful deeds
As when the leaders of the Greeks, those peerless peers, defiled
The Virgin’s altar with the blood of Agamemnon’s child,
Iphigenia.  As soon as they bound the fillet round her hair
So that its ends streamed down her cheeks, the girl became aware
That waiting at the temple for her would be no groom –
Instead she saw her father with a countenance of gloom
Attended by the priests who kept the blade well hid.  The sight
Of people shedding tears to see her froze her tongue with fright.
She sank to the ground upon her knees.  It did not mean a thing
For the princess now, that she had been the first to give the king
The name of Father.  No, for shaking, the poor girl was carried
By the hands of men up to the altar, not that she be married
With solemn ceremony , to the accompanying strain
Of loud-sung bridal hymns, but as a maiden, pure of stain,
To be impurely slaughtered, at the age when she should wed,
Sorrowful sacrifice slain at her father’s hand instead.
All this for fair and favourable winds to sail the fleet along! –
So potent was Religion in persuading to do wrong.

From The Nature of Things, Book 1, Lines 80 to 101.
Translation by A.E. Stallings 2007.  Penguin Classics.

Stallings suggests that the poem is not antagonistic to piety but to organised religion.

The Intervention: Not just racist, but with fascist overtones.

8Our Dispatch today was first published on 12 August 2011.

Buenos dias compañeros,

My mother was a “the glass is half full” person. As she stood doing the dishes, looking out her kitchen window, contemplating her garden, she’d exclaim: Is het niet prachtig, wat zijn we toch gelukkig! (Isn’t it wonderful, aren’t we lucky!).

Douglas Adams said: “Isn’t it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?”

Mum didn’t need the fairies.

My mother  also said that Australia was the best country in the world, but that there were some people based in Canberra that were doing their utmost to spoil it.

Fortunately I’ve inherited her joie de vivre. I don’t need fairies either, but I don’t begrudge others their fairies.

Had she lived until I ‘discovered’ Violeta Parra’s most famous song on You Tube, she would have shared my enthusiasm for it.

http://youtu.be/UW3IgDs-NnA

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto…. (Thanks to Life, that has given me so much…)

A tragic irony that Violeta took her own life.

My father on the other hand was a “the glass is half empty” person. At times he could delegate those ‘Grumpy Old Men’ of the British television series to mere amateur status.

From my dad’s anecdotes:

“ There is much in Australia to get angry about. Peter Reith and Chris Corrigan’s actions on the waterfront some years ago were a particular cause for anger and loathing. At present we have that lying bastard John Howard, that smirking Peter Costello and his mate that sneaky Tony Abbott (more Catholic than the Pope) (OK, yes, anti-Catholicism as well), that evil Phillip Ruddock and last but not least ‘Lippy’ as dad calls him (Alexander Downer). The whole gang being cause for almost apoplectic revulsion.”

“ SEP.’07- Not all that long ago dad was having one of his sessions and kept coming up with his now habitual rather negative opinions. This caused his daughter in law (of whom he is rather fond) to remark that: “Well, you know Mark: every silver lining has its dark cloud”. Touché!”

http://youtu.be/kcDaAr3EPqI shining till the walls come tumbling down….

In 1957 ‘The Black Cloud’, a science fiction novel by astrophysicist Sir Fred Hoyle, was published. A black cloud enveloped earth causing what later became known as a ‘nuclear winter’. All life on earth was threatened, until eventually the black cloud drifted away. Much damage was done but eventually life on earth recovered.

Fifty years later (2007) a black cloud enveloped remote Aboriginal Australia. It became known as ‘The Intervention’

Fred Hoyle’s black cloud was intelligent, the one we are living under isn’t.

I once again quote Martin Flanagan : “To visit Yuendumu is to have the glass tower of your preconceptions shattered into countless brilliant fragments”

To see the brilliant glass fragments, the sun needs to shine on them. The black cloud prevents this from happening.

The sun is gonna shine… someday…

http://youtu.be/_Cos9l_ME2M

Hasta pronto

Franklin

La yapa:

http://youtu.be/Eto2urJTKno

Billy was a brilliant politician, strategist, and on issues like Vietnam and Conscription, a real thinker.

Dear reader, we think you’d have to agree that whichever way you look at it, the Morrison Government represents a profound and deep seated change of direction for the Coalition Government. Right across the board, on the front bench, the back bench, and back into the party machinery the party is new, confident and reinvigorated. Indeed we would like to go so far and say that as far as innovation, forward thinkingness and courage it reminds us in so many ways of the Macmahon Government. A government so radical it bought to us the Whitlam era of fundamental change. 

Stable Government. Billy’s front Bench. A NO sheila zone. A great Liberal tradition.

For instance, just the other day we heard form Barnaby Joyce. It seems the former deputy leader has a a lot to say about policy direction, and he always gives his two bobs worth. And Bob Santamaria and Bob Menzies would be proud to know that their policy direction of nothing much in particular is the right thing. Mr Morrison himself is deterrmined to get the message right. There will be NO CHANGE. No change to tax inequity, No change on climate. There is NO issue with climate. No change on inequities right across the board. 

This is the sercurity and safety of policy planning that all Australians need, and it sets us up for at lest the next few weeks with stability and security. Security in knowing that we will have the same Prime Minister at least until the Grand Final is over. And security in knowing that the toughest border restrictions EVER are on hand to ensure that only the odd au pair may get through the net. 

And still there’s criticism.  A few malconent women don’t iike being abused, belittled and dumped with a barrage of mysoginy. Well the word is; ‘it’s  a tough game’, and that’s what we like, these boys play it tough and toughness gets results. 

Billy’s ministry. More evidence of strong leadership and no sheilah’s.

A few results thus far. Aborignal Australians know they’ve got a man of action as their special protector. Not since Augustus Robertson have Aborignial Australians been so protected by a man who’s got a handle on their problems. And he’s got the  equipment to ensure that their problems will be looked at and possibly augmented with better incarceration, better disenfranchisement, and better isolation, better as he famously said; to equip them for their ‘lifestyle choices’. 

And in the vexed question of energy, the party is in lock step. There is no question of energy. The public, parliament and the population are crying out for coal. Well that’s what their lobyists tell them, and the rest of us are not entitled really to have an opinon on such high level issues. 

On refugees, the word is  may they rot forever. A true sign of compassion. And for the big businesses who pay no tax, yet reap fortune from the taxpayer, the message is; “it’s business as usual’. 

Billy rehearses for the annual Parliamentary ball 1972. Sadly he was kicked out before he could present his ” little Jack Horner” routine to the press gallery.

No reform is doing Australia good. Good for shareholders and good in the knowledge that with no change, there are no RISKS.  And we are all SAFE. 

Peter and Roman, Once , not so very long ago they were BEST MATES! Footy, barby, stag nights, bingo and dwarf throwing.

Dear reader, we don’t know if you are fully aware of the somersaults we perform of an editorial kind. Each day we are presented with such a swathe of letters, opinion pieces, and copy it takes us the best part of a week just to get through it.  And by the time we’ve discussed in a serious round table meeting, and deliberated for an objective, dispassionate, un-biased edtorial commentary, the news has gone STALE!

And with the interesting things that are happening in America, consistenly trumping whatever passes for newsworthy here, it gets to a SOE type situation. That’s a “Situational Overload Event”.  And it becomes nigh impossibe to draw out the thread of what is actually going on. Or in newspeak terms, “make head or tail”. 

Please bear with us as we explain the conundrum. 

Couldn’t tell em apart till Roman got his flash uniform. We reckon that’s when Pete first dissed his mate. ” Uniform Envy”!

Just when we thought it couldnt get any funnier, with Peter Dutton. It just Did. Peter turns up in Parliament and throws a bucket of merde upon his former stalwart deputy Roman Quadverlig. It seems Peter is unhappy about Romans leaking. We think it’s  a bit personal and was wondering what possibly could’ve made this match made in heaven turn sour.  Seems Roman was fond of the trinkets and indulgences that come with the very responsible position of maintaining safety and border security for all Australians. It seems that Roman, with his uniform beautifully crafted by those who gave us the Gestapo, and other para military operations, was entitled to do what he saw fit. And when he was bought to account for some indiscretion, he was summarlily sacked. Seems Roman can’t see what the fuss was about. As the man who sacked him has also had a problem with boundaries. In spite of everything Roman did to make fortress Australia impregnable, Peter was out there making it leak like a sieve for a few mates. That’s the problem with mateship. You’re never too sure when you’re in or out of “mate-dom’. And the coming down can be pretty hard.

Then the friendship turned sour. Peter wouldn’t invite him to the opening of outback prisons any more.

Meanwhile what goes for politics in America just gets more bizarre. But at least they can hang onto their Presidents longer than we can our P.M’s. Perhaps that’s why Malcolm, (forgotten his surname already) was spotted in New York. Not commiserating with his electorate, but emphasizing with his mates in the big end of town. Amongst them out old mate Lord Rupert of Murdoch. 

Murdoch pubishes all the good newpapers in Australia. And with a bit of luck his mates running the ABC will turn the national broadcaster into a branch office. Beg your pardon,  they already have. 

Ruperts flagship the Herald Sun has published an unflattering cartoon. The whole world has gone bananas about it. In simple terms the cartoonist has done a Bill Leak. Portrayed mainstream “clean-living” traditional  Australian values to the rest of the world. Meanwhile more indigenous Australians die in jails without trial, without conviction than ever before. But there is a silver lining. The Grand Final approaches. It will save us from introspection. 

Which is a good thing. Cos it gets sport back onto the front page. And a sense, for a brief moment, that all is good with the world. 

New head of Borderforce is more to Peter’s liking. A man you can trust with a firm hold on the cult of personality.

And make the job of editor easier, or (as practised  by the Murdoch empire) an ethics free zone. 

Our Dispatch today was first published on 2 August 2011.  The Intervention: For the Fairies?

Halo vrienden,

From my father’s anecdotes:

Toen onze moeder eens naar het ziekenhuis moest, werden m’n zuster Femmie en ik bij Oom Fritz en Tante Lina ondergebracht. ‘Onkel’ Fritz Nierhaus was een communist die met mijn moeders zuster getrouwd was. Ze hadden zeven kinderen: Änne, Friedrich, Gerhard, Willie, Rika, Lina en Christineke. Tante Lina, haalden ze altijd door elkaar, en gebruikte iedere keer bijna alle namen, als ze een van hen aansprak. Ze waren straatarm, en de kinderen leden altijd honger. Op één avond stond er opeens een groot bord gebraden vlees op de tafel. Femmie en ik keken elkaar aan…. Waltman,’ Onkel’ Fritz z’n hond, hebben we nooit meer gezien.

When our mother had to go to hospital, my sister Femmie and I went to stay at uncle Fritz and auntie Lina’s. Uncle Fritz Nierhaus was a communist that had married mum’s sister. They had seven children: Änne, Friedrich, Gerhard, Willie, Rika, Lina and Christineke. Aunt Lina always confused their names, and would use nearly all of the names, whenever she addressed any one of them. They were as poor as church mice, and the children were always hungry. One evening a large roast appeared on the dinner table. Femmie and I looked at each other…

Waltman, uncle Fritz’s dog, we never saw again.

Don’t know why, but whenever dad tells me about his aunt Lina, it makes me think of the Old Lady that lived in a Shoe.

The following appeared on the store notice board at Nyirrpi (150Km west of Yuendumu):

However distressing the above sign may be to mangy dog owners, I find it far more ominous that some people see nothing wrong with putting up such a sign.

You ain’t no friend of mine…. http://youtu.be/X5JALwwaASg

Also somewhat worrying is that although highly unlikely, it isn’t entirely impossible that the police may carry out the command.

If you think this Dispatch is about dogs, you obviously have missed the point….

Nyirrpi is on the Eve of Distruction (sic)
http://youtu.be/Akoukq5DvAE

…IF YOU HIDE YOUR DOGS….
http://youtu.be/UAlrFJbGdgw

Waarom denkt die kerel dat hij het recht heeft om te besluiten wat er met die honden moet gebeuren? (Why does that bloke think he has the right to decide what should happen to those dogs?)
http://youtu.be/M6AZNywvF-s

In Yuendumu we have had a home grown “dog programme” for many years. Mangy dogs are a rarity. The number of dogs has also decreased.

The last Fascist to try and introduce compulsory dog laws to Yuendumu was told in no uncertain terms that he was barking up the wrong tree.

Tot de volgende keer,

Frenk

Zoals gewoonlijk met een mooi lied eindigen
http://youtu.be/6xmYkjesR5k

Decode: Google translate from Dutch.