Frank’s personal memoir of Yallourn tech and his life spent at ‘Camp Rolfe’ (Yuendumu) was adapted by Hollywood into a cinema classic.

From Frank of the North-West Frontier. 

Another fascinating insight into the power of metrics. Good thing we say the Americans haven’t been seduced by the metric system and have stayed pure with the old imperial system. It makes perfect sense as the Imperial system is what made empires GRATE!

In this episode Frank casts a half-light upon measurements, and why it’s important to keep measuring things, cos if you don’t you run the risk of losing your school-teacher. They’re rarer than Diprotodon’s in the outback, and possibly as adapted to a remote, outback kinda environment.

Frank writes;

 

Guten Tag Freunden,

The Science Wing at Yallourn Technical College.

Not sure if I ever told you about when I did night classes in ‘Scientific German’ at Yallourn Technical College. All we had to do was translate German scientific articles into English with the help of a dictionary. The class would take it in turns to read and translate paragraphs. The textbook had chapters on various disciplines. The biology chapter dealt with the atrophying of Körperorgane by underuse. When the organ eventually fell off, the class collapsed into uncontrolled hilarity. Ah, to be young and silly again.
Atrophying isn’t confined to body parts. My knowledge of calculus has met the same fate as the tool in the Scientific German textbook.

I’m not one of those who dismissed mathematics as useless and not worth learning. On the contrary, the minimal mathematical knowledge I eagerly acquired has served me well.
I cannot listen to a politician abusing statistics without almost instantly detecting the insult to my intelligence and the intelligence of others who have the misfortune of listening to his/her drivel.

I’ve never had a problem with the knowledge that the odds of flipping six heads in a row are 1 in 64 and neither that the counterintuitive odds of flipping a sixth tail after having flipped five tails are 50:50.

Yallourn Tech. In the olden days, before it was dug up.

So when the sealing of the Tanami Road commenced with a 90 Km stretch, to be followed by 30Km a few years later and a subsequent 10km, I thought that we were dealing with a geometric progression which could be expressed as a calculus formula. Derivative? Integral?

The next stretch of sealing would be 3Km followed by 1Km, then 300 metres, 100 metres and so forth, never reaching Yuendumu, ever.

In the olden days Yallourn Teachers experimented with Coal-powered vehicles. Seen here a prototype being tested.

I had already worked out that the NT funding of schools method (based on attendance rather than enrolment) was a downward spiral, when an article appeared in the ABC online NT news in which figures obtained by Independent Arnhem Land MLA Yingiya Guyula reveal that out of 15 remote schools listed, Yuendumu School suffered the highest percentage drop in funding. In 2022 Yuendumu school funding had dropped 27% from $3.7M to $2.7M.

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2022-11-16/nt-remote-education-funding-effective-enrolment/101517962

Recently Yuendumu School lost two Kardiya teachers. This is how it works, attendance drops, when the school needs more resources to attract students back to school, it receives less funding, and attendance drops, thus fund allocation drops, ability to attract students drops. Anyway, you get the picture. I am sure mathematicians can express this as a mathematical formula.

Bis zum nächsten Mal

Frank

As a student, young Frank excelled in algebra and trigonometry

Multiplication (Bobby Darin):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPEMzWk2rSg

This edition of pcbycp is proudly brought to you from the G20 Summit. A summit where happy faces and old friends have a chance to meet up, talk about trade blocs, old empires and promise with the utmost sincerity….. absolutely nothing!

We return to our saga. Our heroes find themselves in hot water once again.

Its akin to arriving at a G20 summit and finding that apart from the nice t shirts, the ethnically themed dancing, and photo ops there’s nothing on offer.

No big picture.

No global re- alignment.

Just wealthy, spoilt politicians and A-listers pretending to do something.  And the conga line of suck holes pretending to really care. Like the good policemen and women at ‘Camp Rolfe’, (formerly Yuendumu) who really are quite sincere about their duty, their remote living allowances, their special allocations, their entitlements, and somewhere at the bottom of their priorities a secondary and almost sincerely expressed concern for native indigenes.

But as our heroes wait for the Rotodyne to descend, they realise that for all the struggle there is contentment in knowing that at the very least, they are being looked after by those who seek to enrich themselves by making obscene profits from our collective resources. And in doing so, the status quo is kept intact.

An opportunity to have a nice cup of tea, with or without polonium.

A comforting thought indeed.

Irrespective of their own well- being, they stand as representatives of the Democratic Process, the Commonwealth, and the August power of our Sovereign King Charles the Turd.

Now read on….

The sound got ominously louder, and Quent the first to spot it pointed to the horizon; ‘and there it is’! Surely enough the Rotodyne, insect like, touched the horizon as a pallid dash of white and crimson, before merging closer, and closer. Hovering and circling over the very spot where our three heroes resignedly waited.

For mates to talk about house- keeping, shirt- fronting and pan global strategy on a domestic scale and hope that no one else is paying attention.

They wondered what kind of a greeting they’d get, how they’d construct a reality, what options they could offer when all they expected was a hail of bullets or summary incarceration. Terry being an ex copy-boy for ‘The Truth’, was optimistic. ‘Whatever happens don’t let TRUTH get in the way of a good story. If its overblown enough, they’ll buy it. No one wants to be made to look silly’. And with that the three anti-heroes glumly awaited the arrival of whatever or whoever was on that aircraft.

What if it’s Gina and Nev, have we got a snowflake’s chance in hell or a parliamentary internees chance?

Is Gina the sort of person who understands compassion? Can Nev think beyond Gas, and his naked self interest, or are they more loke Benny Boy, drawn to a higher calling. Can we look to them for a reconciliation of sorts’. With the word reconciliation there was a pause, the Rotodyne , harpy-like hovered, reconciliation as a word had a sense of impending doom.

An opportunity to dress- up and demonstrate you have heard of poverty and third world countries cos you’ve read about ‘Camp Rolfe’ in the pages of the Australian.

‘I dunno’, Ces demurred, ‘perhaps they want to make amends and do the right thing. Both of them (Gina and Nev) are very much public figures of stature and like Gina, want to show the public by funding netball teams why it’s reasonable not to pay tax and keep Australia’s bounty all for themselves.  They might see losing the ingots as altruism and we who’ve done the right thing by looking after it as saviors’.

Ces had a point, perhaps by hanging around this might be their redemption. Perhaps in the end Gina and Nev might grant them a royal pardon or some sort of reprieve?

But Quent was deeply worried about the whole affair. It was messy and there were too many loose ends. He knew from his brief association with Angus ‘s Cayman Island Murray Darling investment funds that some people in real positions of unanointed power don’t like it messy. It makes them anxious, and liable to erupt. And, in the end slot the little people who had nothing to do with it. Because in the end as is axiomatic with obscenely rich people and the rich and powerful, the little people of no significance must always pay.

‘But what happens if they find the gold is fake and the real gold is hidden right under their very noses?

I dunno, probably do nothing, as it’d embarrass them to admit they stuffed up, and King Charles will just ask for another 30 ingots’, Ces paused, ‘Gina makes that much in a day, so whose gonna be upset?

To establish an outstanding legacy that will be long remembered.

Yeah but, well but’, Both Quent and Terry stood flummoxed.

‘Well in that case’, Quent had formulated a response of sorts, ‘in that case whatever we do, however we plead it makes no difference as in the end it’ll be up to those in power’, he pointed to the rapidly descending Rotodyne,, ‘they’ll do whatever they do because’ … he paused for effect, ‘THEY CAN’!!

With minutes to spare, (as Rotodynes) are not as fast a Gipsy Dragon rapides, we re- arranged the gear and made it look like we were having a big barby. For extra punch we threw a dead kangaroo carcass onto the hot plate to make it look like we’d been feasting on bush tucker. The fact we were miserable, hungry beyond measure, and would happily have just put our hands up and been shot than have to go through another round of the emotional torture of Brendan Nelson and his dreams of a ‘Sons and Daughters of Anzac Lazer, Light and Sound Extravaganza’ was immaterial. We’d been hard worn by too much ‘Anzackery’ and just didn’t have the fight left in us.

‘Camp Rolfe’, (Yuendumu) Internees await life- affirming leadership from the G 20 summit.

‘Well this is it’!  sighed Ces. ‘It’s been good knowing youse’,

We winced at Cec’s grammatical inexactitude and realised how he’d given up. Terry handed us the last of his Camels, and for the very last time, clutching the naked flame we lit up, and exhaled grey blue whisps of smoke into the midday air.  We’d achieved one thing, and that in itself was sublime, the freedom to drag on a Camel, without worrying about the guilt associated with the packet,

“Smoking Kills” and the amputated eyeless baggage that stared out at us from the crushed and discarded carton, offered caution and anxiety in just being a piece of rubbish. In a way it symbolised Australia in the 21st Century. All anxiety, not much passion and generally speaking whichever way you looked at it…..Rubbish’

Our nadir, or a new beginning? As the dust swirled and flayed our creased and desiccated countenances, we had little time left to wonder, and in that there was a measure of peace at last.

What will happen to our heroes?

Like G.20 summits,. the Rotodyne requires significant spin in order to achieve lift.

Will the Rotodyne, whisk them away?

Or are they slotted for something much worse? Find our next rotational episode, “a Rotodyne in the nick of time’, or….

‘Who the hell is Nick? And if he’s not into mining, he shouldn’t be here in the first place’

This G20 award winning episode of pcbycp is brought to you by those who promote LEADERSHIP and Civil Duty as their Highest calling. Those who serve selflessly, so that others may feel SAFE and PROTECTED!

Dear reader, implausibly we’ve had a few delays in setting up the latest instalment of our saga.

What could the reason be you may ask, the instalment of a new monarch, the red wave turning into a pinkish hued wave, or the attendance by our scribe from the near north into the zac Rolfe case? All of the above, and a distraction on any measure. We return once again to our saga. A sage ripe with irony and dripping in realism. For those detached from the last episode, we had the trio, aided by Australia’s bravest soldier Benny-Boy Roberts Smith and Julian Assange, hiding the Hancock gold, where Sherlock would say the best hiding place was; ‘in plain sight’. Substituting the real gold for a lead counter weight in an oil drilling derrick for the painted lead in the rear of the ute. And in barely the blink of an eye, or ‘Augenblick’ as our German readers would understand it, the plan was to substitute the gold for gold painted ingots, and then before midday make a run for freedom.

BRAVE MEN! and (though no sightings have been confirmed) WOMEN! BIG- CHESTED MEN who know how to keep the Civil Society on track and adorn themselves with Chest Medals as a symbol of their HONOR!

In the hope, the wry hope, that Brendan, (‘Nelso’ to his mates) and his cronies, Clifford, the dullard from MI5, and Nev,( ‘Nev’ to his mates’)  the power behind the Gas-led recovery would be none the wiser.  And duly pick up the gold and take it back to the most powerful woman in the country, Gina, ‘there’s no such thing as a resource rent tax’, who would then deftly use the gold to pay off her crime boss henchman, (King Charles the Turd).  And in doing so secure herself what every West Australian mining magnate really wants, a seat on the House of Lords and a lifetime tarnished by greed, corruption and bloody mindedness to emerge newly sprung, freshly minted and beyond reproach as ‘respectable”,

Can Gina pull it off?

Can our trio pull it off?

Will Nev, Clifford and Brenny Boy get to them before the scheme is up?

Is Angus Taylor on hand to monetise the debacle and convert it into a Cayman Islands trust?

BRAVE MEN! Who shall not suffer the TAINT of enquiry!

And all awhile, after everything they’ve been through at the very end, after converting the lead to gold and vice versa, their two gaolers Benny Boy Roberts Smith and Julian, ( ‘he’s not the messiah, just a very naughty boy’) have pissed off in their only serviceable ute. And all awhile they hear, as a final ignominious curtain call, the sound, the piercing harpy type sound of the unmistakeable whirr of the Rotodyne. The Rotodyne and the sinister thought that whoever is on it, seeks revenge. There’s  nothing  scarier than an angry Westralian mining magnate Sheila, scorned. ‘Hell hath no fury, cos fury incarnate is what’s on its way’.  We return to our heroes;

MEN, (It’s impossible to verify the sightings at this stage), and some women, (though none would agree to be interviewed) who perform solemn feats without the protection of a shirt or wrist watch.

‘Jeez Ces whaddawegonna do now’?

Terry offered the trio, now abandoned and more forlorn that the owner of a sachet of undefined powder at a gaming Table at Crown Casino another Camel and realised that this time their game was up.

‘I dunno’ They looked around, there was the gold in front of them, the carefully painted and smelted ingots laid out neatly, cooling in the morning sun in front of them. And the counterweight, the real gold suspended metres above the ground, painted grey and innocuous. Gold on one side lead on the other. A ‘fools gold’ for those ‘who dare to win’.

‘I suppose the best thing is to gather up the instruments’, he pointed to the gas bottles the smelting tins and the moulds and pretend we’re having a barby. ‘We can tell em Julian and Benny-Boy have pissed off, and with a bit of luck with nothing stolen, we can be on our way,

Men who obey the highest calling for a nobility undiminished by time or tabloid newspaper.

‘But’, Ces interjected; ‘Why would’ve Julian and Benny Boy pissed off without taking the gold’?

Indeed, we ask ourselves the very same question, even for a much-loved national war hero ‘Anzackery’ Icon, and winner of the coveted V.C. The temptation would be to take the money and run. But Like Zac Rolfe, benny Boy has a sacred duty to perform. A higher duty as they say.

Are their death duties payable on higher duties, is doing your duty all that counts in the nefarious world of crime, graft, corruption, and the firm they refer to as Windsor Inc?

BIGMEN!!! ………………………………………..and the interests of very small men.

Find out in our next aurically inclined episode; ‘How many ingots you got’? Or …’wanna know about inflation? Thirty ingots won’t even get you an audience with Fergie these days’!

Franks First ham-radio was converted from a bacon smoking kiln, (ham) with valves and knobs donated by Phillips Australia.

Ohayō

When I was an active radio amateur, I accumulated a Japanese vocabulary of around 50 words. This prompted an Australian ham who heard me valiantly struggle when speaking to someone in Japan to mail me a little book “Japanese in a Nutshell” Well let me assure you, there is no language on earth which fits into a nutshell, but all the same the booklet was quite interesting and useful. For one, it made me aware of some similarities of Japanese to Warlpiri. I found with the exercises at the end of each chapter that translation into Warlpiri was easier than into English. Two easy to remember words stood out, the Japanese word for ‘shirt’- wayishiritsu for instance which derives from English ‘white shirt’ and then there was takushi which I’m awarding no prizes for to guess what it means.

The long room. short-hand view

When visiting Ireland apart from the Long Room at Trinity College, what impressed me the most were the Dublin taxi drivers. I suspect that Ireland is the only country in the world where taxi drivers are both comedians and philosophers.

His second radio was a more compact portable device, capable of adaptation as a surveillance transmitter, colloquially referred to as the ‘Boxed Brown-eye’

Which brings me to one of my favourite songs of all time- Joni Mitchell’s ‘Big Yellow Taxi:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFB-d-8_bvY

And finally, a segue to Yuendumu:

The super portable ‘little ripper junior’ took out the 1957 innovation prize for agricultural implements as it could be converted to a three-stand shearing rig in under an hour.

When a decade ago a family dispute got ample rather negative publicity and friends and relatives rang us enquiring if we were OK, we had to reassure them that the disturbances were targeted and did not affect people who weren’t directly involved.

I also recall that an Adelaide based journalist rang me to ask if I had anything to tell her about the riots. I told her that it wasn’t a riot, but a confrontation. She wouldn’t have it; the police had charged a number of people with rioting. Thus, we had one of those Monty Pythonesque arguments: it is a riot, it is a confrontation, it is a riot…. ad nauseum.

In the end I told her that I’d lived here decades, the police only weeks, so in future don’t call me, call the police, and yes it is a riot, OK? It must be because the police reckon so.

When I launched the previous Dispatch into cyberspace, I received many responses saying that my more nuanced reportage on the coronial inquest was appreciated. I herewith undertake to keep it up.

Franks final adaption, the ‘walkie squawky’ became a ‘ must have ‘ for servicemen in the field.

The response from one of the Dispatchees included the following:

“Also, the media hyping up the last family dispute to the point that the public (including my taxi driver) thought that Yuendumu was a riot, so the police feel justified in letting loose on it.”
Melbourne taxi drivers indeed, not exactly intellectual giants, neither comedians nor philosophers.

Japanese ham radio listeners listen eagerly to the happy hour, as Frank plays his favourite disc; ‘Two Little Boys’ to a worldwide audience.

Sayonara,

Frank

Harry Chapin- Taxi:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5dwksSbD34

—

Welcoming entry to Alice Springs law Courts. Water Cannon and Public Order response unit located at rear.

Dear reader, this time there is no preamble, Just Frank telling us how it is. 

In Nepal they have over five hundred definitions, (so we have been told) for snow, ice, avalanche etc. At Yuendumu we wonder how many definitions they may have for frustration? 

Frank writes…

Ngurrju mayi?

Parumpurru is one of those powerful hard to translate Warlpiri words.
An English approximation of parumpurru is justice.

Law Courts in Alice Springs, Voted 1# by ‘Love your Authoritarian Regime Magazine”

Here an oft repeated song (originally from Argentina but applicable worldwide)
Que te ha pasado Justicia? (Justice, what has happened to you?)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5tQ6Y8xH28

Under the auspices of the NT Department of the Attorney-General and Justice, the three-month long Kumanjayi Walker coronial inquest is being held in the Alice Springs local court. The Yuendumu community’s Parumpurru Committee is represented by pro-bono lawyers. To clarify, other parties are represented by other lawyers, such as the victim’s family, the Health Department, the Police Association and others. In the live streamed inquest just now, I count 15 lawyers in Alice Springs court No.1, but it goes without saying that not all involved are present. Zac Rolfe who fired the three shots is also represented.

On the lawns on the opposite side of the road to the court house, a pergola is set up on hearing days, where a small group of Yuendumu residents and supporters hold a vigil.

Zac Rolfe, undisputed, hero, legend, deserving public figure according to his biography, ” 3mm and much more”.

The proceedings in the coronial inquest are to Warlpiri people best described as foreign or even alien, as were the proceedings during the criminal trial which resulted in Zac Rolfe being found not guilty.

In contrast to the media frenzy leading up to and including the criminal trial, reporting on the inquest is fairly minimal. The ABC NT news’ Melissa Mackay being a notable exception. Melissa as far as I know has been attending all sessions and regularly reports on the proceedings, in a reasonably fair unbiased way.

Proposed New police facility at Yuendumu. Winner of numerous architectural awards.

The aftermath of the killing and consequent murder charges, engendered what appeared to be a well-coordinated campaign of denigrating Kumanjayi Walker and the Yuendumu community. This campaign disregarded court injunctions and had not a skerrick of objectivity nor fairness or decency. In sharp contrast was the dignified response by the Yuendumu community and Kumanjayi Walker’s family and friends, which did not however restrain Zac Rolfe’s defence counsel from stating that Kumanjayi Walker had been “the author of his own misfortune”. An obnoxious example of victim blaming if ever I heard one.

Despite it being so serious and sad, the coronial inquest is providing some moments to be savoured by irony-tragics like myself.

The Health Department tied their knickers in a knot trying to prove that the evacuation of clinic staff had resulted from the perceived (assumed) danger the community presented to the nursing staff and was therefore justified. The possibility that it had been a case of ‘them and us’ “Teach the community a lesson” was vehemently ignored or denied. We all now know that the order to evacuate emanated from the Alice Springs office. What also became clear during the inquest is that remote clinics are very understaffed and health workers seriously overworked and subsequently not always very friendly or helpful. There is a serious disconnect between the health system and the local community, with exceptions the Health Department witnesses drove this home. Our clinic used to be part of our community, sadly this is no longer the case.

Mock- up of new Police Facility being trialled at Yuendumu.

I’m confused by Police hierarchy and titles. During the inquest we have had Senior Constables, Sergeants, Superintendents, Detectives, Commissioners, Commanders and so on as witnesses. Because of my predilection for alliterations, I describe them as a conga line of constables (you pedantics, please disregard this).

Police person after police person exhibited what in Dutch used to be called “East-Indian deafness”. When asked if they’d ever heard racist language being used by their colleagues within or outside the police station, they invariably answered with a straight face that they never had. The word that comes to mind is disingenuous.

Almost all NT police have a Glock pistol hanging off what I term their ‘Swiss Army Knife Belt’. In the inquest they kept referring to their pistol as an accoutrement, which somehow makes it sound less lethal. When asked about the use of and wearing of guns, they invariably had reasons why they felt justified in doing so. The classic was the officer who wears a gun because “you never know what is around the corner” not to mention the officer who thinks that wearing a gun when being involved in a dispute, earns him respect. The thought that people might react to his weapon with fear and loathing rather than respect didn’t appear to have crossed his mind. Myself, I also don’t know what to expect around the corner, but somehow, I don’t have an urge to wear an accoutrement. But then again, I’m not a member of the constabulary.

Please hang in there, there is more:

Watching the inquest, has reinforced my belief that the NT Police is run as a military organisation. I fully realize that in this they are not Robinson Crusoe. One witness even used the word ‘paramilitary’ in a morning session, and subsequently in the afternoon tried to deny (unsuccessfully) having used the term. A classic ‘Freudian Slip’.

‘Nothing para-military about our police’; says Victorian Premier Mr Bjelke Andrew’s.

Victoria Police and NT Police? Can’t tell em apart. (shown at work on school crossing to arrest jay-walkers)

Immediately after the shooting, the troops all retreated to the Yuendumu Police Station, took up defensive positions and called in reinforcements. They assumed (wrongly) that the community would attack them and their precious station. When questioned, they asserted that “making the community safe” was their top priority. Never mind a dying young man and a traumatized community. There is a long history of the use of ruses in military scenarios.  From the Trojan Horse to the use of red-cross marked vehicles in battlefields to now the Yuendumu ruse. A convoy consisting of an ambulance escorted by police vehicles set off to the Yuendumu airstrip, the waiting anxious crowd was deliberately led to believe that a wounded Kumanjayi Walker was being flown to Alice Springs by the Flying Doctor. We now know that Kumanjayi Walker had died hours before and that Zac Rolfe was being bundled off allegedly to the Alice Springs Hospital to have his stab wound administered to. From memory the stab wound was 3mm deep and required no further treatment.
The real reason that Zac was urgently sent on his way, was that within the police station they feared “pay back” which is right up there with “walkabout” as a misunderstood mythical stereotype of remote Aboriginal Australia.

Pay-back is a highly ritualistic nuanced form of Aboriginal justice/reconciliation which I, after nearly half a century living in Yuendumu, cannot begin to fully understand nor know. Payback is not revenge. it is not an immediate reaction but a process, just like a coronial inquest. That at the Yuendumu police station they felt under siege because of fear of payback and felt no compunction in disrespecting the community and the family of Kumanjayi Walker by calling in reinforcements and withholding the truth by the use of a ruse, is a further demonstration of the complete disconnect between white-fellow law and justice and Warlpiri Society.

At present at the front, the police presence has been increased. A family dispute has escalated and I believe that this results in no small part from the heightened tensions and frustrations following the not guilty verdict. The cruising cops and occasional sirens add to this tension and a large number of Warlpiri young men are being systematically arrested and sent to remand. For a long time now in the NT the presumption of innocence has been turned on its head. I am told that the Alice Springs judiciary is prone to go hard on Yuendumu residents as part of an initiative to regain full control.

I’m waiting for the inquest and the media to do something about the perception of Yuendumu and the Warlpiri as dangerous and out of control, instead of the proud dignified people I know they can be.

Heroes proudly display their medals. Adored and worshipped by the public for keeping us ‘SAFE’!

Announcement in memoriam Sabine Kacha:

A Memorial Service for the late Sabine Kacha will be held in the Redfern Community Centre (Sydney) on Saturday, 5 November 2022 at 10am (AEDT).
The event will be live streamed. The link for the live streaming and further information are available here: http://www.respectandlisten.org/vale-sabine-kacha

Sabine was a formidable fighter for justice for Australia’s First Nations. She was much loved by us at the front line.

Ngaka-na-nyarra nyanyi,

Frank (Jungarrayi)

P.S. A non-sequitur song and dance for your enjoyment:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxT32ormkhk&list=RDMM&start_radio=1&rv=Yldy-0K5ujo

Our representative of Australia’s favorite crime family, “The Firm” , makes guest appearance on next series of ‘The Crown’. To uphold the principles of justice and fair play for those who don scary black uniforms to keep the public ‘ SAFE’.

—

In this he suggests that commentary in the local newspaper might be skewed. Perhaps he’s right.

The Truth always reported ‘Just the facts’!

Ever since they ceased publication of ‘ The Truth” it’s been hard to reconcile what’s on the page with the real-life situations happening in front of you. That’s why we at pcbycp read ‘Pravda” and the ‘ Global Times’, for balance and objectivity. 

Frank writes; 

 

Boa tarde amigos,

We live in a divided world. Keep in mind that for every 51 Brazilians who voted for Lula there are 49 Brazilians who voted for Bolsonaro.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Etg66Miq3sQ Cabeza Hinchada, Oscar Aleman, a Portuguese language Brazilian baion from my childhood

Today I drove back from Alice Springs. Crossing the road, I saw a large perentie and several goannas. This didn’t surprise me as not long ago a warm strong westerly wind sprung up. This in Warlpiri is known as the karapurda which signals the start of warm weather and makes reptiles come out of hibernation.

Even GREAT GLOBAL SUPERPOWERS have a little trouble getting down to the bare facts.

The online Alice Springs News also on occasions wakes up from its slumber and posts eagerly awaited articles. Yesterday there appeared an article headlined:
Alice Aboriginal art gallery’s ‘competitor’ put on hold.
The article refers to the suspension of work on Adelaide’s “Tarrkarri Centre for First Nations Cultures”

Sometimes the facts can get in the way of a good story

Within hours of its appearance, the article elicited the following comment:

Why in the hell are we wasting money on “cultural centres” when the very mob we are bowing and scraping to, detest our (Australians’) existence, flag, holiday, government, law enforcement, laws and most of all, our generosity, health care, child protection and anything else the radicals are so displeased by.

From my perspective the only redeeming feature of this letter to the editor, which I’ve rendered in its entirety lest I be accused of cherry picking, is that the author used his own name.

It is symptomatic of a Great Divide in Alice Springs non-Aboriginal society. No prizes in guessing on which side of the divide I dwell.

That’s why we in Australia can justifiably be historically proud of LEADERSHIP!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUPbIbHUem0 Across the Great Divide- The Band

Até a próxima vez

Frank

—

Dear reader,

This dispatch is dedicated to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. In this documentary we see one lone trooper, ( Lieut Errol Flynn) embark on an epic hunt for escaped Nazi’s and the girl of his dreams, Does he get the Nazi’s? Will he get the girl? They only have Nazi’s in Canada, cos the USA is pure from the taint of fascist ideology. Stay tuned….

a short-un from Ken of the distant north. He’s still fiddling with the keys as he takes us on an exhilarating whirl-wind tour of the dis-United States. In this dispatch he talks about the very necessary requirement to keep those sanctimonious, welfare ridden Canadians at bay. Lest they corrupt the very soul of universal gun ownership, bible carrying, Witch burning Republicans.

What’s a Canadian you might ask? Just a lightweight version of a democrat or something of that ilk. And we like em full strength in the states, cos that’s what makes it GRATE!  Anyway, a short- un from Ken, and if it helps we suggest you read this whilst listening to a recording of Statesboro Blues, on Vinyl, with the setting turned to mono and the speakers pricked with a pin. It gives verisimilitude to his keen observation of life in the pursuit of musical engagement as an antidote to life in general.

Possibly up there with “Cuban Rebel Girls” as one of Errol’s greatest performances.

Ken writes…..

Ah, beautiful New England in the Fall!

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness etc etc

For want of anything better to do in these parts, the USAF carry out reconnaissance over Lake Champlain to feebly monitor the Canuck invasion from the north, for as everyone knows, under the Far Left Radical Socialist Biden Regime (™ & © Republican National Committee 2022, all rights reserved) America’s borders are open, wide open, more open than Myers’ Boxing Day sale. There is a veritable caravan of migrants from Saskatchewan camping on the shores of the Great Lakes as I write, seeking to corrupt the American way of life with poutine and politeness, claiming asylum from the tyranny of universal health care and public education. They only await the deepening of the season to sneak across the ice in their snowshoes.

Ken took this photo by his own hand, and indicates a stealth fighter in full stealth mode. That’s why you can’t see it, hear it, or even know it’s there. Ken substituted the clear blue sky with a 1:72 model skillfully tossed in the air.

As legitimate visitors who have truthfully answered that we’ve never been members of either the communist or nazi parties, we hope to escape to somewhere safer before the horde descends. We do not put our faith in

F-35s, aimlessly burning kerosene in a futile show of bravado. They are all noise and no substance. A great deal of noise, as a matter of fact.

Yours from the frontier

Ken

In the end, he knocks the Nazi’s off single- handedly and he gets the GIRL! ONYA Errol! (By Errol’s expression, there might be a lot going on under those furs)

This dispatch is bought to you by the Victoria Police. Straight bats in any corruption enquiry as they conduct all enquiries in- house.

Dear reader,

Caption; ‘Give me Five, and Hu the fuck are you’?

With long term incumbency comes responsibility. Looking after yer mates!

there’s been a flood of musical dispatches, lately. No hypothetical levy can hold this torrent of wit and sagacity back.  There are no metaphorical sand-bags for this kind of deluge. Best just to let it flow and set it to print. What could the reason for this uptick in correspondence, the confirmation of Xi for another five years and more? The knowledge that the Premier of Victoria is to give the police even more powers? Or the heart settling and very comforting thought that with a new Pommy P.M, things are really gonna change….. NOT!

To follow the principle of selfless public virtue

Or is it just the excitement that the world’s greatest and wealthiest crime gang, The Windsors, aka; ‘The FIRM inc’ plan to visit the antipodes next year. Probably looking for a bolt-hole in Aussie before they get the boot from poms fed up with the trickle-down effect. Our only hope is they find digs in Sydney with a harbour view, perhaps next door to Peter Fitsimmons? We can only hope

‘Another four years, who said power corrupts’?

This one from Frank is mildly depressing, so we suggest before reading it have a lie down, a few Bex Powders and try not to drop then onto the casino floor as Wayne did. And then, with the stereo tuned to Mantovani, relax and imbibe to a story writ large from the hellish and remote North-West Frontier. From ‘Camp Rolfe’, (formerly the native settlement at Yuendumu).

Frank writes…

Fratelli e sorelle,

At the T-Junction at the western end of the main drag into Yuendumu a pointy shaped rock which came from Juka-Juka had been placed. It was upright and encircled by flat lying rocks.

Never did Bjelke any harm, he made Queensland SAFE!

Yuendumu’s Park featured many placed rocks which Council workers would rotationally paint bright white. The phallic rock at the T-Junction had to be repainted each morning because overnight it would mysteriously acquire a
bright red knob.

At the current Kumanjayi Walker coronial inquest the use by NT Police of Glock pistols is being thoroughly questioned and discussed.

So far, I’ve yet to hear Glocks discussed as phallic symbols.

I repeat Cathy Wilcox’s “Unfair Game” cartoon

 Sadly, it isn’t a game.

Many will disagree, but I think the so-called Frontier Wars are yet to run their course.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhdFe3evXpk

Dire Straits… Brothers in Arms.

Ciao,

Frank

PS- to get away from the sombre mood:

Historic photo of Yuendumu streetscape before “Improvement”. Both cars are on the historic vehicles register. Both drivers are still incarcerated in a NT corrections facility for numerous crimes, jay walking, dropping cigarette butts, library fines, hunting without a valid permit and other civil misdemeanors too numerous to mention.

Here’s another one from our man in the US of A.

When he’s not busy laying down syncopated rhythms from his box, (Slang for keyboard). And jive-in to the low down bad- ass funk, (moving and grooving to the funky soul rhythm), he’s up to his periscope in ART!

‘What’s Art, you may ask’?

Is it safe?

Is it working with children compliant?

Will it, if unleashed, wreak havoc on innocent citizenry ill- equipped to deal with its paradigm shift? 

What is a paradigm shift. 

Rest assured Ken will render it safe, it’s entombed in white space, it cannot escape, and fixed, mute, and bolted to the wall. It can be looked at, but NOT TOUCHED! Ken’s the full bottle on ART. And if you need to know in art terms the ‘full bottle’ is a clean-skin on sale at Dan Murphy’s or any other place of worship at 8.99 per bottle. Ken writes……

Being the wealthiest nation in the history of the globe, the Yanks have pretty much cornered the market (apart from Bondy’s Irises) in truly fine visual art, so any visitor is obliged to be impressed and learn and contemplate the mysteries of the stars at this or that venue. It is broadening. And enlightening. So much of it really makes you think.

Mattise’s Piano Lesson, for example:

No wonder the cognoscenti are enraptured by his joyful brushstrokes, that je-ne-sais-quois that only the French find incomprehensible!

Of course, when one is “doing” MOMA, one cannot go past the highlights like –

Starry Night – yes it’s THAT Starry Night, the one in the song, not one of the other 20 that have not yet been immortalised in verse – so powerful that even my modest photography can capture something of its air of hope and awe.

And Picasso: Picasso, Picasso, Picasso everywhere.

The man’s industry, not to mention his marketing prowess, was boundless.

Just one example: Still Life with Liquer Bottle and Kyphosis, from his cubic period:

The eyes do follow you round the room, don’t they?

Understandably, with so much cultural absorption going on in so very many crania at a place like that – whether one’s focus is on Ellsworth Kelly & Jean Arp

or Lee Krasner

or Baranoff-Rossiné’s Symphony Number 1

–

after a bit nothing would be more welcome than a cup of tea, a Bex and a good lie down

.

Although we left this emporium of refinement with heads brimming, the experience was quite exhausting! Sometimes it’s better to scale things back a bit. Rather than trying to absorb the entire repository of rich Americans’ good taste (remember the Edsel? the Pymouth Superbird?) at one hit, the business of cultural advancement seems to be easier taken in smaller chunks. So, in all, I personally was most impressed by these more modest works from the Bechtler Museum of Modern Art in Charlotte, NC:

Shopping Bag, by Andrew Walmart, 1962, and a recent work …

Fountain With Cleaning Lady, by the contemporary American industrial artist, Filtrine.

The quest continues. I hope in time to be invited to write introductions to major exhibitions at Bendigo, the NGV or the even the national portrait gallery.

Cheers

K

Every now and again our special correspondent from New Orleans wakes from his Jazz induced stupor and sends us an update on the scene. ‘What’s the scene’? You may ask. It’s the scene that’s goin down. ( pronounced goin darrrnnn) And if you don’t believe us go to New Orleans and find out for yourself. 

It’s not that hard to get to and if you commit a crime and you’ll end up in the State of Louisiana penitentiary or worse. But you will learn the harmonica in your cell and perhaps emerge as a ‘Blues Sage’. 

What is a ‘Blues Sage’ you may ask? Doubtless it is an individual who through incarceration has learnt sagacity and irony in the school of hard knocks. A bit of ‘Anzachery’ Rolfe perhaps? His autobiography, soon to be published includes on the rear dust-jacket a 45rpm recording of ‘Two Little Boys” as sung by Australia’s very own Robert Johnson, Rolf Harris. Highly recommended by pcbycp for your Christmas stocking. 

Over to you Ken…. he writes….

Well, brothers, it’s been another hard week of research and learning in the crescent city, and I am glad to report that the rhythm continues.

You know how it is – inspiring and, for one who dabbles in this sort of thing, somewhat dispiriting at the same time. There is a young Honduran pianist here by name of Oscar Rossignoli.

Studied at Louisiana State University and in the succeeding 8 years has established himself as one of the go-to players in a town where the competition is reasonably fierce. He demonstrates a degree of accomplishment that I would not reach in 7 lifetimes. With a thorough grounding in Mozart and Chopin, he brings plenty to the table. An example from a few months ago:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SaL3iR6kl7A

And then there is this guy:

Longtime drummer for Ahmad Jamal, regular with Wynton Marsalis, Herlin Riley is in another dimension of musicianship entirely. It’s beyond technique or groove or time; he taps into something so impossibly essential and joyful and deep that it makes me cry every time. And then, while crawling in the overarm Aussie stroke without dropping a beat, he’ll look you in the eye and share your laughter.

And so, bruhs, do not forget the continuing Jazzfest in place, the cubes for which are now full, and attached

Bro Ken