At last a most insightful piece from our correspondent of the upper North, Cecil Poole, in which reflection is given to the noble act of civilising natives the word over. Though no picture of Cecil exists, we gain a characterisation of the man through his writing. And reflect once more on the certainty derived from manifest destiny and religious certainty. And remember folks, any donations to this site, which is wholly religious, is 100 percent  tax deductible, so that we might also make a stand against moral “weakness”.

Read on, if you dare.

‘The True Jehovah’, Saint Tone of Santamaria.

There is great evidence of moral turpitude overcoming the Godless.  Indeed Bronwyn Bishop (with prescient warnings  “of bestiality and the killing of newborn babies” ) and Anthony Abbott’s concern for religious freedom must be praised for alerting Australians to the dangers inherent in forsaking our one true Jehovah. We at pcbycp applaud their courage.

Today’s lesson comes from the Pilgrim fathers of Plymouth Massachusetts in the early seventeenth Century. (1620’s). That their colony prospered was due in no small part to their devotion to God, and to following the moral life God demanded.

In larger part it was due to fur trading, a trade that could not have been undertaken with the local Indian population providing the furs.

The Pilgrim fathers set sail. To multiply in godly certainty.

The vast bulk of furs were beaver skins, and these were in furious demand all over Europe.  Such was the demand that by this time beavers had been hunted to virtual extinction in Europe.  Thus the stage was set for the Pilgrim Fathers to make a killing so to speak.  The trouble was that others were onto the game, including a fellow born in Devon in 1576, Thomas Morton.  Morton set up a trading post north of the Pligrims on the shores of Massachusetts Bay.  The Pilgrims were none to happy with this competition and noted that Morton was (variously) a ‘kind of pettifogger”, with ‘more craft than honesty’, ‘an arrant knave’, and ‘a born Bohemian and reckless libertine, without either morals or religion’.

Morton’s settlement came to be known, not inappropriately, as ‘Merrymount’, a rowdy place ‘bent on having fun while making money’.  Morton made friends with Indians, noting their social graces including respect for the aged, compassion, humour, willingness to share, also noting an absence of jails, gallows or underclass.  Little wonder the Pilgrim Fathers were not impressed.

As further sign of Godlessness Morton liked to party and invited neighbouring Indians over to kick up their heels with beer, poetry, and dancing under an eighty foot maypole.  One of their songs included the lines ‘Lasses in beaver coats come away, Yee shall be welcome to us night and day.”  The chorus went like this

Maypoles were banned in Australia by the same people who banned Guy Fawkes.

Drink and be merry, merry, merry boys,
Let all your delight be in Hymen’s joys,
Lo to Hymen now the day is come,
About the merry Maypole take a room.”

The leader of the pilgrims, William Bradford wrote of Morton and the Merrymount community that they

And lo, after six weeks of wandering, God anointed the Plymouth brethren with soap.

“Fell to great licentiousness and led a dissolute life, powering out themselves into all profaneness.  And Morton became lord of misrule, and maintained (as it were) a school of Atheism.  And after they had got some good into their hands, and got much by trading with ye Indians, they spent it as vainly, in quaffing & drinking both wine & strong waters in great excess, and, as some reported, ten pounds worth in a morning.  They also set up a Maypole, drinking and dancing about it many days together, inviting Indian women, for their consorts, dancing and frisking together, (like so many fairies, or furies rather) and worse practices.  As if they had anew revived & celebrated the feasts of the Roman Goddess Flora, or the beastly practices of the mad Bacchanalians.”

For more than fifteen years these opposing forces battled for the upper hand.  As Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote ‘Jolity and gloom were contending for an empire.’  Finally as the Puritan Roundheads were battling the Royalists Thomas Morton (America’s first hippie) was arrested and thrown into gaol.

Plymouth brethren give praise to the Ikea outdoor table setting. C. 1628.

With this ill-advised push to allow Godless same sex marriage not only are we facing threats to freedom of religion, bestiality and the killing of newborn babies, but we are also threatened by a come back of the Maypole.  Lord save us.

Sir Emo’s father (centre) before ration of Porridge. North Sea 1941. His memoirs, ” The Gruel Sea” make fascinating reading.

Dear reader, a telling piece from that sage of the upper North, Sir Emo of Atney. Not content in joining forces with David Flint in cheering the “naysayers”, in the non binding postal vote, he offers a word or two about where G.B is at, or not at, as the case may be, Read on…

‘I saw Dunkirk last week and thought it delivered a credible and moving insight into what must have been a pretty scary experience for the British people at the time.

Sir Atney’s Mother demonstrates British stoicism, whilst flower arranging to shell shocked soldiers during the blitz.

During that period  my father (a submarine officer in the North Atlantic) and my mother (an Irish nurse in the heavily-bombed East End docklands areal) both saw the horror of conflict close up, yet neither ever said much to me about their fears and hopes at the time.  There was a vital job to be done and they quietly and diligently got on with their duty, like so many others: that Blitz stoicism comes through very eloquently in the film.

Here’s how Emile Simpson analyses how the justifiable pride in Britain’s stand in those heroic years has been gradually parlayed into the current delusion and self-destruction, all pumped up by a narrow and inglorious nationalism.

A lighter moment. Sir Atney’s mother picking flies from soup.

Consider Britain’s one major, undisputed area of economic excellence – financial and business services.  Undoubtedly, these did very well out of the UK having a captive continent-sized market (the world’s biggest) right on its doorstep and a key role in its forums. Now, Frankfurt and Paris, as EU insiders, are eagerly lining up to take over that leadership. At the same time, scientific research (the other long-term strength) and education are wilting, thanks to government cutbacks and a growing disinclination by foreigners to underwrite expensive innovation in an uncertain economy that will soon be limited to a small and inward-looking island, instead of continuing as a major launchpad into the 512 million population EU.

The heavilly congested beaches at Dunkirk.

To no-one’s surprise, Boris Johnson breezed into Australia the other week, sounding out the possibility of an Imperial Preference System Mk. 1.01 – blithely forgetting how New Zealand, to take only one example, had been vigorously  encouraged by London to build its economy around the UK market, only to suddenly find itself four decades ago swinging in the breeze.

Understandably, BoJo got a curt reminder that Australia’s economic focus is now overwhelming and irretrievably embedded in the vast and growing  nearby Asian market, thank you very much! And across the Pacific, the Canadians, for their part with more economic muscle than ever and are eager to give the Americans a serious run in their own home market, too (Trumpastrophes permitting) and the rest of the Americas.

Queuing for tickets at Dunkirk

In the early 1970s, unsentimental logic and self-interest pointed the UK towards Europe and many in the Commonwealth accepted that.  But the logic of this untidy and dangerous shambles is incomprehensible to most people in the world – with the certain exception of the West Wing Tweeter

Wherever you see Hubris, you can be sure that her sister, Nemesis, will not be far behind’!

Sir Atney.

The bitter pill. After winnning two world wars, Britons queue for soup rations.

And from a journalist writing in a foreign field somewhere : ‘Ultimately, if the cultural roots of Brexit are reduced to one sentiment, it is that Britain did not win World War II to be run by Germany via Brussels’.

But you see that’s the point. They have lost the war in as much as all those poor bastards who died in France in WW1 did not die so that Australia could sell its raw materials to everyone else cheaply to anyone rather than the locals. That’s what the sage on histroy’s page was trying to tell us. And we at pcbycp wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s what we like about colonialism. Knowing our correct place. That was why Boris came to pay us a visit. Makes us feel important. There’s comfort in that.

“When Obama left office, he presided over a record seven wars, including America’s longest war and an unprecedented campaign of extrajudicial killings – murder – by drones.

In his last year, according to a Council on Foreign Relations study, Obama, the “reluctant liberal warrior”, dropped 26,171 bombs – three bombs every hour, 24 hours a day. Having pledged to help “rid the world” of nuclear weapons, the Nobel Peace Laureate built more nuclear warheads than any president since the Cold War.”

And now we have President Trump.  Again war seems inevitable, desired.

Which brings us to todays poem.

SEPTEMBER 1, 1939
by W.H. Auden

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism’s face
And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
‘I will be true to the wife,
I’ll concentrate more on my work,’
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the dead,
Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

And now let us have Ira Maine, Poetry Editor take us though this extraordinary poem again.

Auden is in a New York Bar when Hitler invades Poland.  All of the ‘Peace in our time’ preaching has been discovered to be untrue.  for the past ‘low dishonest decade’ the West has been lauding the German economic miracle, whilst turning a blind eye to Hitler’s butchery, ‘the unmentionable odour of death’.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return

‘Accurate scholarship’ not lies, not propagenda, demonstrate why Hitler rose to power.  Born in Linz, Austria, Hitler rose to power (‘a psychopathic God’) as a result of reparations imposed on Germany after World War 1.  Germany was humiliated deliberately, not from a sense of justice, but from the need for revenge.  This was evil and Germany does evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

And now for the Greek lesson; Thucydides, the Greek Historian beleived that democracy got in the way of strong leaders.  Military and economic power were all that mattered.  As a result ethics and morality were a waste of time.  ‘…Pain, mismanagement and grief…’ were an inevitable, unavoidable by-product of power.  Thucydides is very much a part of the American Military Academy Curriculum.  Neo-Cons love him.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism’s face
And the international wrong.

Both this and the next verse are almost self explanatory.  ‘Euphoric dreams’.  ‘Competitive excuses’ are mean reasons for a neutral country not to get involved, especially in view of ‘the International wrong’.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

People cling to the familiar, ‘Their average day’ and don’t want it to crumble away.  They don’ want to face their own fears, ‘afraid of the night’ we don’t want to confront evil so we turn our heads in the hope it will go away.  We know it is hypocrisy but it is easier than doing something about it.

Equally, Auden is in a Gay Bar, filled with ex-pats, and all terrified of the ‘night’, the unfamiliar surroundings, the War, and the destruction of the familiar.  

Gays have ‘never been happy or good’, because we in the thirties would not allow them to be either.  You could go to jail simply for being a homosexual.  Entrapment was commonplace among the police forces.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

Auden was gay, or queer, as they called it then.  In 1939 on of the pore popular pursuits amongst louts was ‘queer bashing’ so Auden is being quite courageous here.  Nijinsky was the principal dancer with Diaghilev’s Ballet Russe in the early years of the 20th Century.  Nijinsky and Diaghilev had an affair.  Nijinsky eventually left to get married.  Incensed, Diaghilev refused to let him rejoin the company.  Briefly, Nijinsky had kids, developed schizophrenia, wrote horrible things about Diaghilev in his diary and never really danced effectively again.

So here’s a plea from a gay man, a man born with ‘the error bred in the bone’, a plea for all gay men and women to be granted the right to live their lives with dignity and love.  ‘Craves what it cannot have’ because he lacks ‘the normal heart’ points up just how terrifying things were for gays in the 1930’s.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
‘I will be true to the wife,
I’ll concentrate more on my work,’
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the dead,
Who can speak for the dumb?

There’s a lot of Ts Eliot in this verse, who compared the early morning thousands pouriing over London Bridge into the city to one of Dante’s Circles of Hell.  ‘Who would have thought death had undone so many?’

Or maybe there is more Auden in Eliot than I suspected….

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Now then, here we arrive at the centre, the nub, a last two verses which reach out and choke off Thucydide’s lie, the lie of the enlightenment, the rubbish cult, ‘the romantic lie’ of ‘the indiviual’ which has done so much to destroy societies all over the world.  Basically it comes down to ‘we must love one another or die’

Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

What lunacy, what ‘stupor’, seizes us and allows these horrors to occur?  The great majority allow these things to happen because it’s easier than objecting.  Despite this, Auden says, there will always be a life affirming minority, ‘ironic points of light…’wherever the Just exchange their messages…‘    Here and only here will we find the life affirming flame, only here will we find the ethics and morality which are entirely absent from Thucydides thinking. 

This dispatch arrived on our desk this week.

Bonjour mes amies,

From Wikipedia:

In medieval England, Jews were alleged to hunt for children to murder before Passover so that they could use their blood to make the unleavened matzah. This and other allegations culminated in the ‘Edict of Expulsion’, a royal decree issued by King  Edward I in 1290, expelling all Jews from the Kingdom of England.

The allegations were subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

On 6 December 1938, several weeks after Kristallnacht in Germany, William Cooper led a delegation of the Australian Aboriginal League to the German Consulate in Melbourne to deliver a petition which condemned the “cruel persecution of the Jewish people by the Nazi government of Germany.” The protest has been referred to as “the only private protest against the Germans following Kristallnacht “Subsequent to this an allegation that the Nazis and Aborigines were in league gained traction and the German Lutheran missionaries and residents of Hermannsburg (Ntaria) were consequently treated rather shabbily. The allegation was subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

In 1982 Geoff MacDonald’s ‘Red Over Black (behind the Aboriginal Land Rights)’ was published. I was told a certain “communist geologist” made a cameo appearance in this book in which it is alleged Aboriginal Land Rights are a communist plot. The allegation was subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous as was the implied allegation that a certain geologist was a communist.

The Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (RCIADIC) (1987–1991) was a Royal Commission appointed by the Australian Government in October 1987 to study and report upon the underlying social, cultural and legal issues behind the deaths in custody of Aboriginal people and Torres Strait Islanders.

That was 1991

Incarceration of Indigenous Australians is happening at a greater rate than the time covered by the Royal Commission.

From Wikipedia: “The report on the enquiry ‘Bringing Them Home’ is the Australia Report of the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families. The report marked a pivotal moment in the controversy that has come to be known as the Stolen Generations.”

That was 1997…. ‘Controversy’? More like ‘Iniquity’ or ‘abomination’. And yes, it has been alleged by some that the Stolen Generations never happened. That it was all consensual and in the best interests of the children. Allegations subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

Archie Roach- Took the Children away… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aywDT6yHMmo

And then there was Kevin Rudd’s famous Apology to the Stolen Generations:

“We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.
A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again…”

That was 2008.

Kevin Rudd, whose Government took over ownership of the Northern Territory Emergency Response (the ‘Intervention’) whose Minister responsible for Aboriginal Affairs, that great Bureaucratic Empire builder Jenny Macklin, subsequently extended the Intervention by a decade under the euphemistically named Stronger Futures legislation.

The Intervention which was based on allegations that remote communities were dysfunctional dens of iniquity. Allegations subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

As someone who lives at the Frontline of the assimilationist assault, I can assure you that there has been no let up and our trials are far from over.

Joan Baez- all my trials….
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xi_zzDrZu6c

Removal of children is happening at a greater rate than at the time of the ‘Stolen Generations’

Which brings us to:
‘Royal Commission into the Protection and Detention of Children in the Northern Territory’

That is 2017 (maintenant- jalangu- right now)

On occasions I catch an episode of ABC programme ‘The Drum’ in which a presenter and three invited guests discuss current affairs.

On this particular occasion Warren Mundine, Government appointed spokesperson for Aboriginal Australia, was one of the guests. When the subject of the Royal Commission came up, Warren (from memory) alleged that most Aboriginal youth who ended up in Don Dale Youth Detention Centre had been sexually abused as children. This was the first I heard such mentioned in relation to this Royal Commission and I suspect it has aspects in common with The Gulf of Tonkin incident, the Weapons of Mass Destruction, the Children Overboard, the People Smuggler’s Business Plan and the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, not to mention the mistreatment of the Sudeten Germans. All gratuitous allegations these. Found to be unfounded.

Incidentally Warren has a sense of humour. He thought it very funny, when he heard that long time Aboriginal activist/academic/tomato grower Gary Foley had labelled him ‘The White Sheep of the Family’

Subsequently an episode of the ABC’s Q&A emanated out of Alice Springs. Dylon Voller (the youth whose appearance on the ABC’s Four Corners programme, triggered the Royal Commission), asked a question. A lively discussion ensued regarding what should be done to prevent Aboriginal youth from getting into trouble.

A classic case of blaming the victims- “they can only blame themselves for ending up in detention.”

Not a word about the sadistic racist guards, not a word about Aboriginal youth being targeted by the three times the National average more police per population we have in the Northern Territory. On Youtube I saw Warren Mundine justifying the use of the “spit-hood” on the basis that Dylon Voller undoubtedly would have spit on the guards. How would Warren then justify the pulling down of Dylon’s trousers?

No one alleged that these guards and over-zealous police, behave as they do, because they have been sexually abused as children. No such gratuitous allegation should be made- not against anyone. Such allegations may well be found to be unfounded.

I am told that an Aboriginal youth was recently approached by a policeman and asked if he was stealing goods off the shelves at one of Yuendumu’s shops. The shop manager had to come to the youth’s aid by explaining the youth was employed to stack the shelves. The implied allegation was found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

Apologies for a rather depressing Dispatch- Below an antidote- some lovely music:

Paul Simon – Under African Skies (Live from The African Concert, 1987) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85rr5SqrCZI (surely Miriam Makeba rates a mention in the Title!)

The Staple Singers – A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxqtdDrvMFo

Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu – Wiyathul https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8-YMpYbRqY

Joan Baez performs “We Shall Overcome” at the March on Washington https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7akuOFp-ET8

Miriam Makeba – A Luta Continua (In concert 1980) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mtl62-6pY_I

C’est tout- a la procheme

François

This is what leadership in a SAFE country looks like.

This is leadership in Ireland. Gay marriage is UNSAFE.

Dear reader, there is a parallel universe you know. Its existence had been proved. You see on the other side of the world they pass same-sex legislation with barely a flutter of an eyelid. In other countries, (we are told) on the other side of the world (even though they are not blessed with an abundance of natural resources), their electricity is cheap. Also, (and we have this on good authority), in other countries, they even go as far as to respect their citizenry as integral to the maintenance of a healthy body politic. And, (would you believe?) treat them with both respect and intelligence. Also we are told, they believe in equitable taxes, wealth distribution,and devote money, time and resources to anything other than housing as the sine-qua-non of a healthy economy.

Gladly no such thing exists here. We don’t go in for that sort of thing. We like to be insular, ‘take it up the choof’, and when asked will bend over so as to take it further. And when it comes to our esteeemed ally the U.S we’ll go that extra step and offer everything and the future too. We like it that way.

This is leadership in Malta. Malta is Unsafe.

What we don’t like in this country is optimism and imagination. Cos we love old style religion. Religion that promises retribution, punishment and subjugation of the soul. And we like also to punish women, anyone whos not “right” and keep ourselves safe, secure and very very worried indeed. That’s why we welcome the next nuclear armageddon. It’ll set things right and get us back to when the world was proper. When you could stone women, and crucify heretics, etc..etc.. and get a tax break for doing so.

But just to let you know how it is over there, we bring you this brief despatch from Cecil, who’s swanning around the northern hemispehere. He writes;

“I just arrived in Toronto to be welcomed by Border Services rather than Border Force. Not a gun in sight and a warm welcome. Quite a contrast to Duttons Australia”.

Electricity is way cheaper in Vietnam. More decorative, but UNSAFE, (for shareholders).

Cheers

To whit our sage of the near north Ira Maine replied;

‘Dear Sir,

This is leadership in Germany. Germany is UNSAFE!

The Minister would like to thank you for your report on the Canadian Border Services. However, at the same time, the Minister notices, with not a little regret that you obviously hadn’t noticed that precisely the same conditions exist at the Tolmie Border post*. The all female staff make one equally welcome and if one happens to arrive at a quiet time, other more personal services become available. That ladies passing through our borders might be equally well catered for is, even now under active consideration.
It is perhaps rather fortunate that the level of wild animals killed by traffic close to our border area does tend to provide more than enough meat for our welcoming table, at which, and for a modest fee, new arrivals are made famously welcome. Our Wombat a la Greque is something not to be missed. And as for our Possum Pie, laced with a smidgin of Cockatoo, or indeed our Echidna L’Orange well, the mind simply boggles.
We hope to see you here soon!

Ira Maine,
Office of the Tourism Minister,
(Deaths in custody? Let me make it perfectly clear. This is neither the time or the place for these discussions. What are you, anyway? A flaming’ Commo?’)

To whit we say there’s no hope for life on Mars, Uranus, or anywhere, the proof is in the Pudding. Pudding a la Dutton.

* Tolmie Border Post. Currently the objective of a Border Force investigation.

Mathew Guy outside Don Vito Corleone’s House denying links to the mafia.

Dear reader, we were going to give you another thrilling installment of our contemporary crime thriller. In this episode, the bank manager turns a blind eye to the money laundering whilst the leader of the opposition puts his best foot forward and invites the crime bosses around for a discrete tete a tete. What ensues is an exhillirating roller coaster ride of graft and deception, and in the best tradition of “artful” Arty Sinodinos, more ‘can’t recall’s’ than a amnesiacs convention.

Artful Arty denying his suit was made by Don Vito’s tailor.

But instead, we have this reflection by our esteemed poet Ira Maine, which may draw some light on the vexed, (cos Saint Tone of the Santamaria wants us to think it so) issue of gender. And in keeping with the splendid initiative by the Federal Government on non binding, marriage non-reform to indulge us all in a postal vote, Ira has sent this missive via morse teleprinter. The original being translated from cuneiform and wax tablet. We apologise for the deferrment of the crime fiction thriller, but provide you with stills of the upcoming dramatisation to whet your appetite. Enjoy!

Ira writes about Cecil’s (alleged) dissapearance into the wild west

‘What? No rude postcards, not even for ready money? No suggestion of the inexplicable joy attaching to subtly delivered innuendo? No be-bosomed belles disporting themselves on bayside beaches? No bathing boxes, no blazered buffoons bewitched by passing pulchritude? Oh, lack-a-day! Some urgent action must be taken to redress this politically correct imbalance.

Where have all the postcards gone, I ask myself? Burned, like books by the postcard Nazis, a humourless bunch of unimaginative jackasses, both male and female, who can’t see beyond their PC noses.

Ian Narev, CEO Commonwealth Bank, as bagman for Don Vito.

The present state of women’s affairs, I feel, though wholly admirable, takes itself a soupçon too seriously, lacks a sense of humour, and would seem to suggest that we men, if we are to be politically correct, must ignore both women’s sensuality and sexuality completely.
The difficulty here is that as a result, we are breeding a generation of odourless, colourless male wimps who don’t know their arse from their elbow when it comes to dealing with the fair sex. Women, it must be said, have to take some responsibility for this situation. Women are so intent on exercising their right to not be viewed as sexual objects that they are ceasing to be seen as sexual objects at all!  Banter, pleasantries, the odd well-meant compliment, are increasingly and alarmingly met with suspicion, hostility and quite often, verbal aggression.

Where the hell has the sense of joy, of celebration gone?  For whom is this dried-up, inquisitional alternative to life intended for? And it is not just the women!  Look at Trump, and Turnbull and Teresa May! What a drained and empty bunch they are. God save us all from this triumvirate of mediocrity.

Don Vito accepts Arty’s pledge to not remember anything about Australian Water Holdings.

Women are,undoubtedly, sexual objects.They are the glorious, astonishing pinnacle of achievement in the natural world, and are designed specifically to ensure the continuance of the race. Glass ceilings are cracking and equal pay is on the way. Given their present power, all women have to do to break through these barriers is to  collectively withdraw their skills for a day or two, then watch the other side cave in. But their principal function, that function Nature intended them for, hasn’t altered one whit, not one iota.
They are still marvellously, dazzlingly, sexual objects and that sensuality ought to be allied with a joyful celebration of  what unique creatures they are. Instead we are presented, by women, with a wizened, Calvinistic view of sexuality which seems to owe more to the mediaeval Church than to modern, feminist thinking.
I think it is time for a change. The women’s movement needs a new momentum, perhaps a new, celebratory leader, somebody, for God’s sake, with a sense of humour! Those older women who brought about the modern women’s movement were highly intelligent, with guts and energy and zeal. We need more of the same lest the whole movement fail for want of that essential momentum.
Men also need to be reminded who they are and how important they are. They need to be lifted out of their present incomprehension. This shouldn’t be a problem for most women. It is, after all, what they have been doing for men since Adam was a boy.
As a flourish, as a finish to this piece in praise of those older women, I would like to include a politically incorrect and perfectly shameful quote from one of the songs of the late English songwriter, Jake Thackray;

‘…I love a good bum on a woman,
It makes my day…’

Making government pay. Don Rupert and Don Trumpo discuss lucrative taxpayer funded business ventures whilst running Government, (playing golf).

No gentleman could possibly disagree’…

Today’s dispatch is Watiya.  Dispatched on 19 December  2016 and posted 24 December 2016

Amigos,In previous Dispatches I have mentioned the Tree of Knowledge outside the Yuendumu Mining Co. store. Recently a pair of Tiyi-tiyi (mudlarks-Grallina cyanoleuka) built a neat round mud nest up high in that Athel pine. The pair take it in turns to look after their chicks and keeping a small murder of Kaarngka (Crows- Corvus) at bay.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hvfpYvgnYA

Watiya is the Warlpiri word for ‘tree’ or ‘trees’. Warlpiri has quite a few words like ‘sheep’. The context determines whether the word is singular or plural. No doubt linguists have a technical term for such. My favourite linguistic technical term is ‘expletive infixation’ (e.g. ‘tele-fucking-phone’).

Papunya is 130Km kurlirra (South) of Yuendumu (Yurntumu). On the way there, one gets into ngalyarrpa (sand dune) country in which many large and juvenile kurrkara (Desert Oak-Allocasuarina decaisneana) trees grow.

Nyirrpi, is a community of several hundred people located 150Km karlarra (west) of Yuendumu. Nangala has travelled to Nyirrpi and worked at the Nyirrpi School for decades (since its inception). At the kakarrara (eastern) edge of Nyirrpi there is a cemetery which features a forest of numerous prominent white painted crosses. Too many of our friends are buried there. It was therefore a most pleasant change for me to travel to Nyirrpi other than for a funeral, a Christian wedding!

On the way Nangala pointed out a grove of kurrkara trees, which had sprung up in the last decade. Is she jumping to conclusions, when she raises the possibility that climate change might have something to do with this?

At Nyirrpi School, they (I am told) had their best Christmas Tree ever. It was a Wakulpirri tree (Dog wood- Acacia coriacea). Wakulpirri is one of the more generous bush food trees. The plentiful beans taste delicious when the pods are roasted whole on hot coals. Not unlike freshly roasted peanuts.

Ernst Anschütz, who wrote the modern lyrics of O Tannenbaum (according to Wikipedia), in his wildest dreams, would not have been able to imagine the Nyirrpi School Christmas Tree

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lhQ_hBT7lA

Athel Pine (Tamarix aphylla) is a declared ‘noxious weed’ in the NT. It has spread along a 400Km long stretch of the Finke River. It causes serious ecological damage, not least drawing salt to the surface. In Yuendumu there are some very large (and old) Athel Pines, which were originally planted as shade trees, a purpose they serve very well.

To the best of my knowledge unlike the Rubber Bush (Calostropis procera) which spreads rapidly and widely, especially at cattle bores and yards, not a single Athel Pine has sprung up in the Yuendumu region, only the planted trees remain. Yet the Vegetation Police have been trying and sometimes succeeded in killing these old trees. Why can’t they apply the “innocent until proved guilty” approach? When it comes to Aboriginal Australia that fundamental principle on which the whole western legal system rests, has been out the window for ages. They don’t even apply it to our trees!

Lately in Yuendumu we’ve had a tree lopping contractor who has removed some lovely gum trees , … watiyaju ngulaju jurlpu-kurlangu ngurra… (those trees are bird homes). The contractor also killed a row of large Athel pines. Trimming the trees where they encroach on electricity cables, I can understand, but really! Remove the whole tree? Definitely yet another case (of which Yuendumu suffers many) of throwing the baby out with the bath water.

Over the years I have seen many instances of tree vandalism in Yuendumu, and not much evidence of consultation or discussion. It was thus, that I concluded that the row of Athel pines had been removed without permission. On checking I found out the trees had been removed by request from the residents of the nearby house. I do however note the neighbours (who shared in the enjoyment of the shade and privacy) were not consulted.

Let this be a cautionary tale for all those who have strong opinions on matters affecting Aboriginal Australia- for Heaven’s sake, seek out the facts and examine the nuances, before you launch your dogmatic beliefs and opinions at a wider audience, and never, but never, tar everything with the same ethnocentric brush.

Ponder the possibility you can’t see the wood for the trees.
Jurlpu ka nyina mi yurdingka… (The bird is up high in the tree)

….I wanna be free like a bird in a tree….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIPuC5iqR2Y

I wish you all freedom, happiness, health and wealth (in that order) for 2017

Frank

For the best returns you can’t beat infrastructure. GOLD!

There’s been quite a flurry of excitement on the investment scene with uncertainty as to whether the housing market, (the gold standard for the Australian economy) is about to go Pop. We at pcbycp have numerous investments and have watched with some satisfaction our capital grow. And tellingly we felt the housing market was unstable years ago, and deferred our funds from ‘fools gold’ into the much safer realm of publicly funded infrastructure investment. We like Public/Private partnerships, The public doesn’t get a look-in, and we claim confidentiality whenever a troublemaker tries to gain access to the fine print. Cos there is none.

Ian Narev. CEO Commonwealth bank. Demonstrates, “the trickle down effect”

That’s why we were bitterly disappointed with the Andrew’s government kiboshing the East Link, we stood to make billions, and in the end had to settle for a mere hundred million when the State Government , (the taxpayer) compensated us for not going ahead. Clearly the Andrews government doesn’t understand how investment and money markets work. Whereas, up north in New South Wales and Queensland we’ve been raking it in. Australian Water Holdings was a good little earner, and Arthur, (artful arty to his mates) put us onto West-link, the Eastern Distributor, the M5 and the Westconnex M4. We’ve done spectacularly well. In Sydney you only have to hum the opening bars to “We’re in the money”, and the pollies throw cash at you. No questions asked, no due diligence, and every project comes with a lifelong guarantee.

But we’re a bit cross. Seems that there’s better money to be made in banking. And we should’ve figured that out years ago when Anna Bligh got on board as spokesperson for the banking industry. That’s what comes when you’ve got a monopoly. Should’ve listened to Rupert, no matter how much you’re making off government contracts you’ve gotta keep your eye on the next big thing. There’s still money to be made in the private sector.

Anna Bligh. (Bank Suck-hole). Demonstrates the trickle down effect.

So to our utter disappointment we found out that the Commonwealth Bank, which we forgot was guaranteed by the Federal Government (the taxpayers) is the ‘numero uno’ for money laundering. Why didn’t we think of that? Turns out the Commonwealth Bank is the destination of first preference for dodgy funds. You can open up an account in any name: ‘The three men deposited about $3.6 million across 427 separate transactions. They made dozens of deposited amounts under $10,000 at Commonwealth branches scattered across Sydney to avoid scrutiny. The bank accounts were held in fake names such as Ronald Brown, Luke Shaw and Richard Whippy’. (ABC News)

Mr Whippy owned this van.

We loved Mr Whippy, and apparently on all the accounts the same photo appeared as identification. Cos he had shitloads of money, that was all the Commonwealth Bank needed. And that just goes to show that the Commonwealth are good sports. They didn’t check drivers licenses, passport details, gas bills, the bank statements, Nuffink. And why should they. Anna reckons the banks are doing fine, and if we the public left em to do their job, it’d reassure investors the world over that the banks are doing their bit to advance the pillar of western economies, ‘the trickle down effect’.

And when one of the syndicate was asked why he chose the Commonwealth Bank, he proclaimed it the bank of first choice. That’s competition at work. So leave Anna alone, as an ex politician she knows that the buck stops here. And there, and over there, and round the corner… and in 100’s preferably.

In brown paper bags would be nice.

Not in one big flood though, that would be too obvious.

The Commonwealth Bank gives favourable treatment to syndicates. No questions asked, easy terms.

Just a trickle would suffice.