Taking (too good) Care of Business.

Turning Govt’resonsibility from service provider to social coheser.

The entire premise of granting public monies via infrastructure grants or tax relief to big corporations is that THEY ; The corporations and businesses are the “creators of employment and jobs via a “trickle-down-effect” to benefit , eventually, the workers of the nation.

This is bullshit .

It has been a lie long promulgated and promoted by the vested interests who most benefit from this great big lie , because if we break down the process of : Job – Business – employment, we can see that given the multitude of jobs that turn the wheels of industry are, will be and have ever been in existence since the dawning of humanity..ie: the necessity to satisfy the basic needs of survival ; Food, clothing, shelter, then ALL other industry is an extension from those necessities that multiply as the world population increases…Transport, communications, health, agriculture etc..

So let’s draw an indelible line under that old furphy of “Business creates jobs”….finished!

Now let us look at how we can create a better model of social confidence in lasting employment and continuity of production. I will keep my theory to one subject as that will. I hope. Stop me from running off on a tangent that leads to confusion…and we can allow that one subject set the example of how it could be extended to many other platforms.

The collapse of the car industry in South Australia….Holdens.

We all saw the harrowing exchange between those “free-market” ideologists ; The LNP /IPA during the first heady weeks of their election victory where GMH (Holdens) was dared to leave the state and curse them for seeking “ industrial welfare” in a free-market political environment….

Holdens called the LNP bluff and are leaving the State and leaving tens of thousands unemployed, multiple allied small businesses in the wilderness, with whole suburbs now on the brink of unsustainability…well done LNP you!..for just a measly $50 mill’..it could have been averted..Here’s what I suggest..

With such vital industries as auto / machinery manufacture, and the multi-various small business and steel production that feed this “machine”, the Govt’ takes control of Administration , finance and unit number production. This would leave the actual physical component of production-line manufacturing and assembly to be sub-contracted out to a manufacturer…BUT ONLY THE FUNCTIONAL PROCESS OF PRODUCTION OF THE PRODUCT…the admin, finance and post production sales would be kept firmly in the arms of government.

This would allow the small businesses allied with the industry to continue to quote for and maintain a certainty of production..it would allow the main manufacturer of the production-line (say; GMH) to concentrate on the production of the units and would give job security to the employees as they would be backed by the govt’. There would not be a profit motive in the overall industry, as the govt’ could run it on a break-even principle, thus allowing a lower price per unit on the sales floor.
Such a new form of Public / Private contract would see the main resource for ownership and security and managerial administration shift from private enterprise to social capital. National interests and job security would be maintained by government securitry of the financing of these enterprises. This would keep the administrative component in the public eye and under public observation allowing for a transparency of cost / expenditure.

Of course there will be outrage at this proposal as it reeks of socialism..well, I would counter..what the hell do we have now?…Private industry seeking govt’ bailouts, Private industry seeking tax breaks or not paying tax at all, Private industry seeking govt’ grants for research , development, and infrastructure without any govt’ interference in the management of those financial inputs…if that isn’t “industrial socialism” then nothing else is either!

The cry will be.: “Govt’s are not profitable”..so what..if there is job security maintained, then the employees will feel more confident to spend and use credit to expand other industry and so more employment and tax will be gained.

“Govt’s are too slow on the pick-up in new technology!”…Give us ALL a break!..after the interference and total fuck-up of the NBN by private vested interests like Murdoch and main Hi-Tech players like Telstra, there is NO argument for that bullshit, coupled with the above abandonment of a budding production capability of self-drive cars and electric cars just waiting for mass-production to commence AND the inevitable expansion of renewable energy, we can see the short-sightedness of those “innovators of industry” : Big Business / The LNP / IPA.

“Govt’ enterprises lose money hand over fist”…If this were the case, I have to ask (and I HAVE!) : Why are there then so many private corp’s queuing up to purchase public utilities and infrastructure?..well, we ALL know the answer to THAT Q’..; because all the hard yards and the solid groundwork has been done and all is left for the “mates of the LNP” that buy them to do is to “gold-plate” the infrastructure, jack up the profit margin and thereby screw the public and the govt’ for as much as they can…the rest is all bullshit!

If such a new idea for governance could be developed across a wide range of industries, it would leave the individual / small-business person and subbie to quote for a cut into the pie and allow their feel for independence to be maintained. Large scale industries could be managed and maintained with the reassuring guarantee of Govt’ backing as long as there was no sabotage by recalcitrant “free-marketeers” as we have seen in so many govt’ run utilities in the past…many of which end up after a few years in private industry hands having to be bailed out at great cost to the public purse…why not keep it in the public domain from the start?

So I say ; Cut out the middle-management man and secure those industries and utilities most needed for the national interest and place the security of job certainty once again where it belongs..: In the public interest.

My Cup Runneth Over…

Your Cup Runneth Over…

So it is written…

“ The 23rd Psalm may be the most beautiful of all chapters in the Bible because it gives an accurate description of the Great Shepherd’s protection, provisions, and praises towards his “flock”. David writes “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows” (23:5) “

The “Great Shepherd” disappears from our article about this point, taking with him any intention of “protection, provision and care”…for there now starts that part of our history lesson that describes the cruel intent of capital-venture speculation and exploitation of the innocent and the vulnerable after the setting of a most devious and cunning trap for the unwary farmers, labourers and migrant workmen who were coaxed to seek a new life with their families in the new colony of South Australia…an example of everyday land speculation and incompetent governance so familiar to us now in the twenty-first century and you will look back at this story and wonder.. JUST FUCKING WONDER… how many times this fraud and swindle on the poor and weak can be repeated before the wrath of summary justice more severe than anything instigated by Josef Stalin is not brought to bear on the protagonists…you will wonder, but not be amazed that it hasn’t.

Their cup runneth over…

In the year of Our Lord ; 1829, in one of the “Mi’lordship suites” of Newgate Prison, England, there temporarily resided a man of thirty years of age..at His Majesty’s pleasure, for the slight crime of attempting to marry a child of thirteen at Gretna Green so he could “legally” de-flower her at his own convenience..This unfortunate legal set-back did not deprive the said “Gentleman” of books and writing materials , so he set to and wrote a fraudulent “Letter from Sydney” (he never did go there) complaining of the lack of quality servants in that new town that could keep a Gentleman of leisure in the manner he had become accustomed ..as was a gentleman’s right..This “Gentleman” in question went by the name of Edward Gibbon Wakefield….a TOTAL PRICK..as today’s vernacular would have it.

The upshot of his thesis was the principles for setting up a “Free-Enterprise” colony in South Australia , which basically were thus:

” The price of land held by “The Company” should be kept at a level just out of the reach of affordability for a worker, as the worker, after saving his wages so as to buy land, would leave his master’s service to work and till his own land, leaving said master to fend for himself without servants..So land should be kept at a “sufficient price” to deter the labourer from owning land and therefore a pool of employable workers could be relied upon.

When land was sold, the money should be used to bring out more labourers and so the process would be continued over and over, with always a supply of cheap labour to service the larger land holders. who did not have to own their land, but HIRED it from The Company till at such time they wanted to buy it…The irony being that these “Land Hirers” turned out to be in many cases ; the directors of “The Company “ itself…a forerunner of certain tax avoiding schemes used by companies of today.

Thirdly, and this is “beautiful”, coming from the pen of a felon in prison himself..whatever you did, you must not let convicts come, as : “They were not fit associates for gentlemen and would upset the beautiful balance between employers and labourers which had been brought about by the “sufficient price” of land…unquote.
And there you have it..Of course, this also explains the imperative of the need for the claim of “Terra Nullius” of the whole of the claimed colonies so that all land therein becomes the property of the crown..aha!..to do with it as the crown sees fit….: “ Gentlemen!..raise your glasses for a toast to the King of Australia..”

Their cup runneth over…

The colony of South Australia became a land speculators orgasm, with the buying and re-selling of property becoming the main source of economic transaction so the colonists didn’t farm enough , and all food had to be bought in from the earlier colonies in the East and from Tasmania so they nearly starved to death and “The Company” went broke..The workers were paid by Governor Gawler with “promissory notes”; rubber cheques and the British government had to step in and bail out with public monies the debts and take over the now failed colonial enterprise after a short spell of just six years..in 1842.. A lesson learned about the “astuteness” of venture capitalism so that it should…never – happen – again…

I don’t know what happened to Lord Wakefield..I have read of it somewhere but I care not a jot to think of him ever again, save one is reminded of his existence whenever one ventures to the inner precincts of Adelaide, for there, cutting through the centre of Queen Victoria Square, from East to West, like no other street in the city..(even King William Street veers around the square ) is that thoroughfare bearing his still revered by those “born to rule” name..”Wakefield Street”.

I would call on any Labor govt’ with an ounce of gumption to invoke the old “Department of Nomenclature” powers used in the first world war to rename so many Germanic locations , rivers and towns, to apply similar vengeance to those avenues towns and streets bearing the now known reviled names of those villains and scoundrels.

But how could they?..when the elitist structure of the well-heeled social society hangs its very rights, privileges and status from the same “clothes-peg” as Lord Wakefield hung his coat. The very epitome of venture capitalism is reliant upon the fraudulent claim that even the humble worker in this great country, this : ‘Great Southern Land” can one day, through their honest, hard work, own their own home..The wage earner, one day, along with the Lords and Ladies, along with the Companies and Corporations, along with inherited wealth, tax avoiders and unscrupulous speculators…you too, my good men and women..can be honoured to buy your own home to raise your own family….so be thankful young people, for one day soon..

Your cup too will runneth over…

The Protocols of the Drones.

Working class politics of today is held captive by what could be called “middle-class protocol”. There seems to be little far reaching political radicalism that would benefit the producing classes that has not first been vetted and screened through “approved” channels of middle-class perception and acceptability..that is : “keep it respectable, keep it tidy and clean”..so that any venture into radical left-wing politics now looks and smells like a sterilised and white-washed version of capitalist aspiration.

My mother worked on a sheep station along the Murray River many years ago, where if a flock of sheep were needed to be brought across a shallow ford, a tame, domestic pet sheep well practised in entering the water , would be brought to act as lead sheep to encourage the flock to follow it into the river and so to cross to the other side. Its job done, it would be once again cut from the herd and taken back to the homestead and suitably rewarded. There are those of the middle-class embedded within the left-wing of politics who act as such a drone to “guide and direct” both political aspiration and social aggression to a place safe and secure for those wanting to control any outcome from political dissent.

We can read in Thorsten Veblen’s incisive dissertation on the rituals and habits of conservative attitude in his book ; “ Theory of the Leisure Class”..

“In further qualification, it is to be noted that the leisure class of today is recruited from those who have been successful in a pecuniary (relating to or consisting of money) way, and who, therefore, are presumably endowed with more than an even complement of the predatory traits. Entrance into the leisure class lies through the pecuniary employments, and these employments, by selection and adaptation, act to admit to the upper levels only those lines of descent that are pecuniarily fit to survive under the predatory test. And so soon as a case of reversion to non-predatory human nature shows itself on these upper levels, it is commonly weeded out and thrown back to the lower pecuniary levels.”

This “selection” of type today is marked and stamped with some sort of recognised academic qualification..This “stamp of approval” allows the carrier access to a level of commentary and opinion sometimes far above their understanding or capability..particularly in regards to working class needs and requirements for a decent and honourable lifestyle. The many years of rote study does NOT necessarily grant EVERY student with the capacity nor the perspicuity of insight into the pressures of the workaday world of those who make and maintain the basic requirements of any community. The presumed knowledge of such can create much difficulty and hardship with those families living week to week, wage-packet to wage-packet under a mortgaged house and contents.

Again to Veblen..:

“ In order to hold its place in the class, a stock must have the pecuniary temperament; otherwise its fortune would be dissipated and it would presently lose caste. Instances of this kind are sufficiently frequent. The constituency of the leisure class is kept up by a continual selective process, whereby the individuals and lines of descent that are eminently fitted for an aggressive pecuniary competition are withdrawn from the lower classes. In order to reach the upper levels the aspirant must have, not only a fair average complement of the pecuniary aptitudes, but he must have these gifts in such an eminent degree as to overcome very material difficulties that stand in the way of his ascent. Barring accidents, the nouveaux arrivés are a picked body.”

One feels the time has come, with a more solid body of working class educated to re-take control of both political direction and policy best suited to a more inclusive community. The make-up of the producing classes has always been diverse and multicultural..the farmer from many ethnic communities to the trades-people to the service sectors etc. are of such multicultural variation of language, creed, culture and diversity that the success of any enterprise in our society is dependent on the cohesion and mutual respect of all to each other.

We are seeing a deliberate dividing of our society into this or that ethnicity, creed or culture that is a deliberate attempt to break down such cohesive respect. Those of the governing classes who see themselves as “above” the manual labour class are, with the unstinting assistance of the main-stream media, doing their level best to ferment hatred and loathing within our society..the resulting breakdown, they hope to manage with a heightened presence of surveillance and recruitment of “on the ground” policing. We are being intimidated and threatened by those very people put in place in out parliament to protect and enhance the cohesion and inclusiveness of ALL in our country..instead of trying to drive a wedge of disorder and dissent between white and coloured, immigrant and indigenous, employed and unemployed.

Veblen again :

“Modern industry requires an impersonal, non-offensive or discriminating interest in the work in hand. Without this the elaborate processes of industry would be impossible, and would, indeed, never have been conceived. This interest in work differentiates the workman from the criminal on the one hand, and from the captain of industry on the other. Since work must be done in order to the continued life of the community, there results a qualified selection favoring the spiritual aptitude for work, within a certain range of occupations. This much, however, is to be conceded, that even within the industrial occupations the selective elimination of the pecuniary traits is an uncertain process, and that there is consequently an appreciable survival of the barbarian temperament even within these occupations. On this account there is at present no broad distinction in this respect between the leisure-class character and the character of the common run of the population.”

This attempt to divide the community by rewarding those who show the obvious signs of “aspiration” with special grants or consideration, against those unlucky or untrained to be able to gain a foothold in full-time employment, is becoming so marked that there must come a time when the mass of devalued working-age people will say : “enough!” and take to the streets in general outrage and protest at the obvious discrimination fostered and promoted by the government of the day.
This is when the “drones” appear..coached to appease and to persuade with soporific rhetoric meant to lull the outrage and dull the “blade” of dissent with non-confronting arguments and conciliatory logic that does little more than drive the anger and action back down to be bottled up for another act of bastardry by the governing class.

It is time to pressure our representatives to formulate policy DIRECTLY ADVANTAGEOUS to those who do the producing in the community AND to make it concise and clear in its intent and purpose. For too long have we witnessed a kind of “cross-pollination” between left-wing representatives and capital-opportunity. A bit too much of “running with the fox and hunting with the hounds”..Too much “sipping from the same chalice” and rubbing against familiar shoulders. We demand our representatives be like Caesar’s spouse..: “Not only above suspicion, but SEEN to be above suspicion” .

There are two more years until the next election, time enough to secure the loyalty-base of the left, time enough to formulate sound policy to secure an employment program that includes government investment in industry and training, investment in solid and continuous infrastructure services and manufacturing without the option of “offshoring” for profit and on-selling to the private sector for a “mates” profit. Time to declare sides in the battle for a united community and cohesive society or to confront the notion of chaos and anarchy under the current ideology of right-wing politics.

WE, of the working classes, for our part must hold true to our class and skilled base and show confidence enough in our own judgements and not fall victim again to the “deep-sleep” tactics of the drones of middle-class academia to lull us back again into a false sense of political security..We are on our own in this class struggle, as we have always been. We will have to hold our ground on OUR terms if we are to win..we need to radicalise , not anesthetize ourselves.

I leave the last observation on the habits and traits of “aspirational consumption” once again to the very perceptive Thorsten Veblen..:

“The whole question as to a class distinction in respect to spiritual make-up is also obscured by the presence, in all classes of society, of acquired habits of life that closely simulate inherited traits and at the same time act to develop in the entire body of the population the traits which they simulate. These acquired habits, or assumed traits of character, are most commonly of an aristocratic cast. The prescriptive position of the leisure class as the exemplar of reputability has imposed many features of the leisure-class theory of life upon the lower classes; with the result that there goes on, always and throughout society, a more or less persistent cultivation of these aristocratic traits. On this ground also these traits have a better chance of survival among the body of the people than would be the case if it were not for the precept and example of the leisure class. As one channel, and an important one, through which this transfusion of aristocratic views of life, and consequently more or less archaic traits of character goes on, may be mentioned the class of domestic servants. These have their notions of what is good and beautiful shaped by contact with the master class and carry the preconceptions so acquired back among their low-born equals, and so disseminate the higher ideals abroad through the community without the loss of time which this dissemination might otherwise suffer. The saying “Like master, like man,” has a greater significance than is commonly appreciated for the rapid popular acceptance of many elements of upper-class culture. “

Oz Culture : A Tragedy in Three Acts.

I have posted versions of these pieces in part or separately on my blog or elsewhere. I offer them a a single-piece for the observation of the evolution of so-called ‘Australian Culture” from the fifties to recent times..It was / is not one simple recognizable identity..it is a blend of so many varying cultures just trying to contain chaos and dignity within their own family and society.

It goes something like this..:

Act one : Ruth Holmstrom.

I have to tell you the story (as I know it) of Ruth Holmstrom. I have to give her a bit of longevity in this world lest she be forgotten altogether, for the little I know of her as a child of around six or seven years is through my one clear memory of meeting her on the footpath at her letterbox as I was making my way to the beach one summer day.. She looked down to me and smiled weakly.

The Holmstroms lived on Jervois Tce. About halfway between our house and Rowland’s Deli’ at the top of the hill-slope to the beach there by Mrs. Fookes Fish & Chip shop.. The house was of red-brick, plain frontage, with dull, dark-green painted doors and windows. The blinds were always drawn. There was a low red-brick front fence with a small white gate. Mrs. Holmstrom grew watermelons out the back yard that didn’t have a side fence to the road , and so the ripe melons were subject to some young boys stealing one or two..to which Ruth would give chase when she could, yelling and cursing at them…young Potter was a main culprit and he was swift of foot..to his credit, he did share the booty amongst us other kids.

There were three children with Vernon and Ruth Holmstrom…the oldest was a girl whose name slips my memory a tad..I’ve got it written down somewhere..just a tic an’ I’ll find it….ah, yes..Julie..and then there was Kevin and Trevor. I knew the two boys better because they joined the other local boys down the beach.. They were known by their nick-names of ; “Sharkey” (Kevin) and “Porpoise” ( the younger Trevor)..there is a large diving-off rock there at the Marino Rocks beach called “Sharkey” and I thought and still do think it was named after the older Holmstrom boy as he could be so often sitting there alone on the rock.

The one time I remember Mrs.Holmstrom was the summer day I was walking down the path to the beach..I had my towel over my shoulder and I was jumping over the lines of tiny ants that I had noticed had made a right-angled track every so often regularly across the path…I was jumping one of these tracks when I bumped into Ruth Holmstrom at her letterbox there by the gate , collecting her mail…She was a big blowsy sort of woman with a wavey, ruffled mass of shortish dark hair and she had on a loose, floaty, white cotton dress with large red flower prints on it..neither she nor I said a word..she just looked down at me and smiled weakly and it was then I noticed one side of her face was swollen and marked by a large bruise along with a black-eye. She just smiled at me, glanced nervously around and then quickly made her way back inside the house.

Potter lived just a couple of houses up from the Holmstroms and I asked him recently about Ruth and Vernon and told of my memory..and he remarked that he wasn’t surprised, because he witnessed Vernon hit Ruth in the face with a full, closed fist once when he was there with the boys..he said the sound was like a crunching whack!, and he fled out the back door. Vernon was a violent man, extremely violent..he could be heard up and down the street yelling and threatening all the family..he would not stop short of striking the children as swiftly and as viciously as he did his wife..yet he was never reported to the police and the community kept quiet, as was the custom..or shall we say ; “culture” in those days when it came to domestic violence.

When My sister was here over Christmas I spoke to her too about this recurring memory and she told me that yes, Mrs. Holmstrom had come to our mother several times to complain about Vernon’s drunken violence…but my mother had told her to try and keep the peace and hold the family together for the sake of the children.. Ruth, along with her husband was also an alcoholic…so there was that too.

But it was not long after the meeting at the letter-box , when our mother was getting the bath ready for us kids one night that she matter-of-fact quietly informed us that Mrs. Holmstrom had died that week and she had died because she had slipped in the bath and chipped the bone in her elbow and that small chip had worked it’s way up to her heart and she had died from a heart attack because of the bone chip…so you see..you have to be careful not to muck around while having a bath otherwise you could fall over and chip your elbow and die like Ruth Holmstrom.

But I no longer believe a word of that story.

I wrote this piece quite a few years ago. It was an attempt to both explain and understand that moment of decision in my late teens, in the later years of the 1960’s when the urge for revolution was so explosive in our Boomer generation. The thing is, while we were full of the life and want for a new social beginning, AND were keen as mustard to get started in it, we really didn’t (or at least ..I..didn’t !) have any flamin’ idea where it was going to take us!..It was one crazy, hell-raising ride into adventure, with not one adult around to give guidance or example..just partying on for years and years!..the old rules were torn up and the new ones had yet to be written..and when they finally were, it was on the shredded shirt-tails of what was then a conservative Australia.

Act Two : Epiphany.

An interesting phenomenon can happen to a young person when they reach their mid to late teens, there is a moment of awakening to the situation around them, the life they are living, the social circle and familial surroundings that guide their every-day movements and decisions. They can have a sort of psychological epiphany and either fall totally in-line with the accepted dogma of society, or they can totally rebel and reject the “boring-as-batshit” lifestyle of their parents and peers and go off in a completely different direction. Some of the “baby-boomers” famously did just the latter….I was one of those.

Now, let me explain the three different phases of baby-boomers…There are those born directly after the second world war, The more inflexible of these grew up with the mind-set of their parents..:conservative, militaristic, socially servile. The second wave from the start of the fifties to the middle fifties were expected to follow such sentiments as their older siblings, but they did not..Oh!, they did for a while, as tender youths, but then they rebelled!…The third wave, till the early sixties, are the misguided conservatives we have in power now! They have leap-frogged back to the fifties in a caricature of what they perceive as their parents control mechanisms and are an exaggerated version of that conservatism!…..Hopeless!!

I am of the middle set of boomers…and man!…did we ever rebel! It wasn’t just a case of :”Oh, I think I’ll go in a different direction”…It was an emphatic…”I’m outa here!”..and I can remember the exact moment when I stopped being the aspiring apprentice carpenter and became the son from hell!
There were three things that awoke the liberating spirit within me, the first was a book, the second was music and the third that sealed my fate was an incident.

Let me enlighten you.

I was an avid reader of books in my early teens…you probably know the type of books..:crime, mysteries, war, adventure…that sort of thing…I was a regular “young boys own” kind of fellow, till one day, in the mid sixties or so, whilst about to catch a train, I was looking at a book-stand for something to read, and in a hurry, I bought this book that had on its’ cover a war theme…I bought the book and caught the train….the title of the book : “Catch 22″…I fell in love with that book…I still love it! I’ve consumed it so many times, like one consumes a lover, a hunger un-satiated till you next see them! When touching is not enough and total immersion is demanded!..a beauty!

In 1967, The Beatles released their “Sgt. Peppers” album…Talk about a bombshell!…Never, never before in the world of music had such a magical mix of bizarre and sublime sounds been cast upon the masses. You cannot honestly tell me that you can listen to that album and not be swept away with the mesmerising musical magic….and that moment when the calliope lilts in “For the Benefit of Mr. Kite”…”…and of course Henry the Horse dances the wALTz…”…..glorious! magical!, marvelous! To HELL with Elvis!…and then came Hendrix and The Stones…and that sealed the whole deal.

The third incident was the defining moment, when the combination of the first two awakenings jelled with the third and I went home to sleep on a new and exciting desire.

Again, it was 1967…the end of that year, I was nearly seventeen…it was Summer…….I don’t suppose the name ; Bodo Skrypek means anything to you? Why should it?…But just roll that name around and off your tongue a couple of times….obscure? abstract?…..intriguing isn’t it?…But I kid you not..it is a real name. As a matter of fact, he nearly got into a punch-up with a copper one night who thought he was having him on giving a name like that!

Bodo was a “Rocker”….you know?, in the days of Mods and Rockers…Bodo was a Rocker of the first order..The BSA Golden Flash motorcycle, the black leather jacket and chrome chains, black stove-pipe jeans with “ripplies” shoes, the tats, the snarl, Blonde, “Flat-top” haircut and the sartorial exactness of a Jimmy Dean, but with the aggro of “Chopper Reid”, if Chopper was around in those days! You’d understand what I mean if I tell you that he used to clean his motorcycle, engine and spokes, with a toothbrush!…that machine was a black and chrome beast, an android extension of his personality, he could toss it around like it was a twirl of his fingers. It was totally phallic… Bodo WAS the fifties personified . We adored him…. We feared him!

One summer night, at the top of Brighton Rd., Three of us gathered near the monument..:a column, still there but moved a little to one side of the road, a testament to war. Three of us were there..Pommy Len with his Honda, Ron Parker with his 350cc. Beeza..and myself, the youngest by a couple of years, with my Yamaha. It was the early days of the emergence of the Japanese motorcycles…themselves a bone of contention amongst the motorcycle purists who mostly scorned the “Jap-Crap” for British machines, of which, amongst the Rocker brigade, Triumphs and BSA reigned supreme…Norton was acceptable, but just,: the intellectuals choice…the rest were, in the vernacular of the times..:”Poofter bikes”!

We were there, at the S-bend, at the monument, just milling about, dead-still night, nothing to do and no intention of doing it! and then Bodo rolls up on his Beeza…sees us, does a Uee and pulls up and parks with one automatic quick-flick of the side-stand whilst simultaneously dismounting…He lit up a cigarette…(where did it come from..magic! there it was, the lit match already somersaulting away into the night). He stands, we gather around to the “flame”…moonlight and streetlight phosphorose man and machine, memory fixed to time and place..did I know it was the end of an era…

Jacta alia est!

My senses were alert..I don’t know, something was stirring in me, a portent?..Did we talk? don’t remember, did we do anything in particular? don’t remember..But next thing, another motorcycle comes around the S-bend and pulls up. I do not know him, but Bodo does..even some sort of respect…he rides a Suzuki “Hustler”, the quickest bike off the mark for those days…his pillion is a blonde girl, long..blonde hair…they are both about nineteen or twenty, no crash helmet, no shoes / barefoot, just “T” shirt and casual denim jeans…but maaan!, they looked so cool and relaxed, they didn’t get off the bike, just straddled it and conversed with Bodo, who, after some little time in discussion on the merits of particular motorcycles tired of the conversation and tried to “hit on” the blonde girl pillion who, with a disdaining toss of her blonde locks, seemed to scorn him!…a new ideal, a new generation!..I saw it, the vulnerability, the loss of attitude….The young man started the motorcycle and with a casual adieu..and that’s what it was! : an adieu!..they turned and accelerated down Brighton Rd with such amazing speed and unity of line, that even Bodo paused in the action of putting his cigarette to his lips. I Iiked that look of cool denim, the girl, the bike the attitude….an Epiphany! I wanted it!

There seemed like a long, long silence between the departure of those two prophets and any action on our parts…That machine and its’ passengers just went…whoosh, no thundering roar of engine, no aggro from the young man toward Bodo’s facile attempt on his pillion, just a swift, smooth departure from the point of disturbance toward serenity..the red tail-light a point of distinction fading into the distance.

“I wonder”, said Bodo suddenly,”How fast I can get up to coming down that road?”

He was turned gazing up the new stretch of bitumen of Ocean Boulevarde…None of us commented, it was a rhetorical question, for he had no sooner said it than he had flung his smoke away and mounted his bike and still with the kick-start at the nadir of its stroke, the motor throttling the side-stand snapped as he leapt the bike out onto the road.

We three moved our bikes and ourselves down the road a little to where the bend straighten out toward Seacliff. We stood on the edge of the curb and waited.
You could hear him before you could see him as he came thundering down that boulevarde…that Beeza was screaming, a throaty howl. Christ he was flying!…then he appeared just as the road went into that long, broad sweeping bend of which we were at the zenith. He was already pitched at a low angle as he went into it at a speed of at least a hundred miles an hour….as he floated toward us, the bike howling with a spraying shower of dazzling sparks shooting from the muffler and foot-pedals as they bounced and scraped on the bitumen, Pommy Len and Parker leapt from the road edge to the back of the footpath….I stayed where I was…I don’t know why, except I was mesmerised in the theatrics of this performance..for that ‘s what it was ; a statement of bravado in the face of rejection…Bodo had lost face with that girl, with that young man…with us..certainly with me, I wanted nothing of it, no more big-noting, no more aggro’, no more warmongor tactics….I wanted liberation from that whole social network , screw them all!

Though of course, I couldn’t voice those specific thoughts as I stood there rooted defiantly to the curb. I wasn’t going to respond to the automatic fear….I know now with the wisdom of age ; with mortality being the only certainty, the whole world runs on bluff.

Sure enough, Bodo swept past so close to me I could smell the engine oil and feel the heat of that motor. He was still braking as he neared the Seacliff junction..but I couldn’t care less, for I had already mounted my Yamaha and was quietly making my way home…I had a lot of thinking to do.

As I lay abed, thinking about that young man and his girl, the fact that they didn’t get upset or angry, they just “walked away”…and that is what I did to that life back then..to my job, to my parents, to my home, to all the expectations of that boring-as-batshit society…it’s what we all did, a whole generation almost, spontaneously, I didn’t get angry, I just….: Walked away!

Act Three : Death by a Thousand Cuts, Living by a simple philosophy.

Or : “Old Ideas, New Australians.”

Quote :

“ 1983…Business ………..of Survival.

With the Death of Richard, I must now manage alone, on one pension.
The house seems in good condition. No large account, only the small loan I had taken out, which finishes in June 1985. Must try not to take out anymore loans, to(sic) much drain on my low income.

I must try to live on produce from garden, with eggs to help out.

Try to cut down on weekly food bills, most of all on meat.

The animals take quite a lot (money) for food, reg’, etc.

As the fowls are all getting old, must breed up some new hens. “

That quote was from an aged pensioner’s diary…sure, we know she was not going to die of hunger or homelessness..or do we?…She certainly was afraid of some vague uncertainty…and therein lies the simple truth..: “A lifetime of habit, creates a certainty of belief ..a moment of uncertainty doubts a lifetime of belief ”. For that lady, her entire life was constructed around hard work…the old-age pension that Labor and the unions put in place gave her a measure of security so she could live out her final years in dignity…that is a word well worth praising…; Dignity…..Let’s put that up there at the top of the page of Labor Party principles.

Dignity.
And damn if a person who applies their person to contribute toward the social betterment of their family, friends and neighbours for their working life, they are denied that most basic of respects..; Dignity ! ..and it only comes from others who have walked that same path . The speculator, always on the make..always on the lookout for the next “win”..the next “deal”, has neither wish nor capacity for dignity…he has traded it away with a Faustian deal with capital…no need to look to him for a “fair go”, his motto is ; “Opportunity”…but does he seriously believe that if HE did not exist, there would be no work to do?

[Actually,The name that lady called her late husband was not quite correct…you see..his name really was ; Riccardo….he was an Italian…SHE was born in Australia of Irish / Cornish stock….now THERE’S a mix!…But you know, it is not at all uncommon..of the three sisters in that lady’s family, after the war, one married an Italian, one married a German (third generation Australian) and the third a Polish man. This idea that we are just lately become a multi-cultural nation is not true..for many years there has been intermarriage in the community…sure, the surnames may be Anglo, but there is mixed ethnic in the family somewhere..and we should be proud of this…love knows no boundaries, children know no ethnicity.

I keep hearing this catch-cry ;”What does Labor stand for?”…To my mind, Labor stands for what it was raised for..a simple measure of dignity…in work, in leisure, in the fair go for all people. I remember when I was about ten years old, with my older brother, selling newspapers at the Royal Show…The manager would allocate you so many papers for the day, you’d sell them, putting all the coins into a leather bag at your hip and at the end of the day, you’d give the bag over to that manager and he’d count out what you owed for the papers and any over (you’d get tips, but most times didn’t have the time to separate the tip from the coinage) incl’ tips he’d give back to you along with your pay….But there was this one big bastard manager one year, who’d keep back most of your tips…my older brother, being a stroppy sort of young fellow , challenged him (my brother was canny enough to keep a careful watch on his tips) and the manager got angry , saying ;”If you don’t like the way I do things , you can get off with yourself !”…and THAT included me. So a thirteen and a ten year old couple of kids get cheated by an unscrupulous manager (News Limited, by the way!)….nothing new, neither then nor now!…Companies do it all the time…it’s called ; cheap labour…but to cheat kids..what sort of people are these ? Vermin….who steal the rights of their fellows…Labor with the unions, stand up for those rights..Let’s put that up on the list.

Rights.
And damn if a person applies their advantageous position to cheat even paper-boys…what sort of bastards are we up against?…and they ask what does Labor stand for?..Labor stands for what it was raised to stand for…the Rights of the everyday people to stop the vermin from ripping off the wages of ALL people and to bestow on All of us what Gough Whitlam called for and what Labor calls for now..: “A fair go”.

Labor must think carefully before they pass these new “citizenship laws” put up by the LNP…They are not to protect us from “cultural terrorism”, but are deliberately being put in place to track and control our own citizens…it is as obvious as the nose on your face. There has to be a measure of restraint in how far we go to cower and threaten the populace. There has to be a measure of dignity and rights in our confrontation of any threat. Better we offer safe harbour to the majority of whom have been driven from their homelands in fear of their lives or livelihood, like those three above, than attempt to cower and oppress a minority for little more than their own particular culture.

I offer you to read these comments and tell me they are irrelevant today..:

“ As rivers glisten in different colours, but a common sewer everywhere looks like itself, …so the all powerful rule of capital ruined the middle class, raised trade and corporate agriculture to the highest prosperity, and ultimately led to a – hypocritically whitewashed – moral and political corruption of the nation…”

And..

“ The leisure class lives by the industrial community rather than in it. Its relations to industry are of a financial rather than an industrial kind. Admission to the class is gained by exercise of the financial aptitudes—aptitudes for acquisition rather than for serviceability. There is, therefore, a continued selective sifting of the human material that makes up the leisure class, and this selection proceeds on the ground of fitness for financial pursuits.”

Both the above pieces are over one hundred years old..The first by Theodor Mommsen on ancient Rome, the second by Thorsten Veblen on post Victorian capitalism…yet they could both have been written today. Why is it that such rational observations go unheeded in our society?…I read such and take them in and use them (as you see here) as moral and ethical fodder in my own life. Where do we see such civilized observations used widely?…I don’t know!..I don’t hear or see it in everyday life!..Where is the scholarly debate among political higher learning in this nation?….Education abandoned..that’s where..Let’s put that word up there too..

Education.

And damn if the multitude of tomes of wisdom that have been written in the tears of humanity over millennium, get abandoned for stupid, facile , quick-fix slogans. What sort of people are these who, flaunting their higher education, claim the high moral ground of public debate , yet cannot or will not learn from history and will not read from the wisdom of the ages…There are those who cannot claim education beyond the third year high school, who read and revere such books…their shelves a proud display of well-thumbed volumes. And some ask what should Labor stand for?..Education…Labor stands for what it was raised for…: Education for all peoples..not the abandonment of an age of learning..but education.

The many different ethnic groups that come to these shores, from the earliest to the latest have one goal in mind…”Betterment”..of their family fortunes, their security and their children’s education…it is that simple…sure, they brought their food and prayers with them..that is their immediate security..we all take a bit of “home” when we go on holiday…When one is driven in haste and fear from one’s house..; What would YOU grab?..a piece, any piece of home?…that is what “culture “ is…a little piece of the past to carry with oneself into the future..in the worst case, it could be but a poem, a prayer, a song from the motherland….in the best case it is the family. How can one reject the call of assistance…not charity…assistance to a family in need and still shelter under the common name of humanity?

So there are the players, there are the situations…we know what the problems are today…what can be the solution?

Check this little piece from a short story by Eric Knight, see if it gives you ideas..: “Never Come Monday”.

“The Prime Minister thought of a lot of things all at once. Suddenly he called his secretary and said :
“Carrington-Smaithe. It is Sunday to-day, I hear, and it will be Sunday again tomorrow. Pack my things,. We’re going away for the weekend.”
“But sir,” said the secretary “What about the international crisis?..We have two ultimatums that must be answered immediately.”
“Dear me”, said the Prime Minister. ‘That is a nuisance, but all the world knows the British weekend is inviolate, and if this be Sunday, as it seems to me it must be, then I won’t be able to answer till the weekend is over.”
“But when will it stop being Sunday, sir?”
“Well, Carrington-Smaithe, how long will it take our fastest cruiser squadron to get around to that troublesome part of the world?”
“Oh, about thirty-six more hours, sir.”
“Hmmmph! Then I think it will stop being Sunday in about thirty-six more hours.”

There is a secret desire in that little piece of the realization of reality..(it is well worth a read by the way)..a desire that is really a need for time off from work. But it can be more than that..it can be the barricade between capital demand and producer compliance..a demarcation line between demand and supply. I have never liked sacrificing my weekends for overtime, ever! Damn their work..No-one should be compelled to work on the weekend..and if they must, as in the emergency services..then they ought to be suitably..VERY SUITABLY rewarded..work will be around a long time after we are ALL dead and gone!…and there can be the solution to differentiating Labour from Capital…the inviolate weekend..the compulsory time off for R&R. . For as long as one stays healthy, one can always earn money…but time is of the essence..you will run out of time before you run out of money…take the time..screw the money..let capital know it has no price for your free-time. And they still ask what Labor stands for…Labor stands for what it was raised for…honouring the eight hour day or it’s modern equivalent, honouring “family time”..personal time ..resting time. Those who would try to reduce the vulnerable to a kind of 24hr. slavery would love to claim ownership of the whole of our weekend…bugger them!..they can’t have it!

The solution is that WE who are the producers, the consumers, the life and breath of business, take control of our cultural lives…We draw a demarcation line between being compelled to work and a time for life. we stop the machine for a pause in production so we can enjoy our family and friendships…I say we take back our cultural lives and deny the vermin their pound of flesh!…it has never been the speculator who physically laid the “foundations”, never the stock-broker who mixed the “mortar” , never the wealthy who carried the “hod of bricks” to build “our house”.They don’t own it..they don’t own us..they OWE us !

THAT, is OUR CULTURAL RIGHT..THAT is Labor policy…: Dignity..Rights..Education..and what flows automatically from those simple entitlements..Stake your ground, claim your rights and serve your people.

” The quality of mercy is not strain’d.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes “…

Cheeriozy!

Got talking to Pete last Friday down the local..the subject got onto the passing of one’s parents..I ‘spose because we are both old now ourselves and it comes as no longer an immediate sorrow, but rather one lived through so many years ago..And we got onto the reactions one experiences at the funeral, what with all the rellies gathered there and the friends and some strangers one doesn’t know but is informed in hushed whispers or so later on. There is that bottled-up grief, that reserve in the English tradition, especially amongst the men to not be seen to blubber or weep uncontrollably at such sad gatherings…and the language used is interesting in its sparsity of emotion..

Then Pete, took a sup on his beer, reflected a tad, wiped the beads of condensation from one streak on the glass, looked into the distance and made a motion with his pointed finger…

“..But I do remember one chap I worked for, a builder in the financing / speculative line..stiff-upperlip sort of bloke..John M…old Adelaide family, that sort of thing. You couldn’t get an emotive comment from him if’n you smacked his thumb with a hammer…which I did once..accidently..as he was holding a length of bracing for me…hopeless at physical work..all thumbs…an I hit his thumb and you know what he said?..where you or I would’ve swore blue murder, he just spun away (dropped the prop!), cried ; “bother!” and stuck the thumb in his mouth for a second to comfort the pain…that’s the sort of chap he was…”old school Oxford”…

The job was winding down, the contract reaching near completion so there were only a couple of trades finishing some final touches to the groundworks and I was there as supervisor of the job from go to whoa. That was when John turned up. He was walking the site by himself, looking like he was inspecting the finished job…not his usual occupation..he usually waited for the handing over ceremony for that sort of thing..but there he was..Now..I knew he had been to his Mother’s funeral the day before, and I put his meandering down to a listlessness that one gets when first “orphaned”..that ;”you’re on your own now”..feeling..so to say, But I was surprised when he joined me and Keith the plumber for smoko..

John was the project builder..a developer rather than an actual builder..not your sort of tradie-evolved into builder, but a bloke from an old family with old money involved in multi-faceted projects, of which building was but one. I was his go-to man for building..I was the “knowledge-base” for that side of his investments. He would leave on-site management to me..and that included timetables, subbie hire and materials delivery scheduling..We had worked together for years, but not in a close familiar way…just a business sort of thing..so it was quite surprising when he opened the conversation with the announcement that he had just buried his mother..of course Keith ( another long server) and I both knew this , but we gave our condolences kindly..and fairly, we had no gripe with the man or his family..He thanked us and then after the usual quiet on these occasions, He cleared his throat and spoke in a confiding manner..to neither of us in particular, but rather while looking at the ground somewhere between us.

“You know, it’s a funny thing, language..the expression of certain words. I have been to the best schools and university where language is treated as a sacred thing..the pronunciation, the grammar, even the timing of delivery of thought or repost..how to speak and speech, you could say…”

John went quiet while he reached to pick up a twig which he used to scribble on the ground by his feet..

“I gave the eulogy at my mother’s funeral yesterday..” he continued.” all the usual blather and history..all about the family, her work in the district and committees she was on and such like..all written there on my notes, some highlighted in yellow marker…it went over well..as I was trained to do..a solemn finish before we all made our way to the cemetery for the placing of the casket..”

John drew some hieroglyphics in the dust as he thought it out a bit..I could see all this idle chatter was taking its toll on the man..but he was on a mission to explain something to himself I felt..we remained silent..to give him space.

He continued with a sudden exclamation..

” Dammit!..You have to hold yourself together at these ..these events..it doesn’t do to make a fool of oneself weeping and carrying on..one must maintain structure….dignity..after all , it wasn’t as if my mother’s passing was a sudden tragedy…it was a long tiring business for all the family..a kindly relief for all when she passed away..for her most particularly, I’d say..so it was ..SHOULD have been a solemn, dignified affair..the placing of the casket in the grave…except for Loretta..” John stabbed the stick into the earth .

“Loretta? ” Keith encouraged..

” Loretta”..John breathed..” Yes..Loretta..an Italian woman, the wife of one of the nephews..lovely woman, in the Italian dark- lady of the sonnets mould..if you know what I mean..It was quite a surprise when the nephew returns from a working stint on the continent with an Italian wife…shocked!..you could say…a real eyebrow raiser, the whole affair..But they settled down and had a couple of kiddies and got on with the married life routine…but dammit..she’s got that dago emotion thing in spades..weeping all over the place, at weddings and christenings and such like.. so she had to almost be dragged from the grave before she threw herself in it on top of the coffin…damn display to say the least!”

And here was the long silence..here was the nub of the new “congenial John”..here he became uncomfortable…

” You know, one HAS to hold oneself together as an example for the younger ones…it doesn’t do to put on too much display..and..and I was there beside Father O’Loughlin as he read the rites and the coffin was lowered down..sure, I had some tears to shed, but held in check for the moment..but I could hear Loretta wailing somewhere behind me..and I thought I would give her husband a bit of a talking to after the funeral..at the wake..But as we stepped back from the grave to let the mourners file past to throw the bit of dirt onto the laid coffin, that damn Italian woman suddenly called out a word in perfect imitation of our mother’s voice..here was this woman who could only speak a kind of garbled mish-mash of Italo-English saying in perfect enunciation that one word so familiar to all of her children and grandchildren..and by time-lapsed , especially to me..”

“You see..” John continued in a kind of self-reflection tone..” Mum was a country girl and she had an infuriating habit of “cutesying” words by adding an “ee” to the end..like “bunnee” instead of rabbit..she’d say ; “Oh we’re having a couple of bunnys for dinner..” and one really infuriating one she’d say when I was a young tear-away, home from the college with a friend and we’d been ripping it up a tad at a local dance and in the morning she’d wake us with a much too cheerful ; “Come on boys up we get ..I’ll make you some bacon and eggys for breaky..” ..it used to so infuriate me..and here we were at the final lap so to speak of the funeral, and I had held myself together so well and then that weeping Italian woman has to drop that bombshell that took me by complete surprise and …and …well ..” John threw the twig over his shoulder..” I lost it..I just lost it..Loretta just halted right next to me, looked directly at me in a flood of tears then to the coffin in the grave and wept out a string of indecipherable Italian words to finish with that one damn softly spoken parting word mother always called to us as we left her home..”Cheeriozy!…that silly, muck-up of a perfectly good, common English word..”Cheeriozy!..cheeriozy!..” Loretta called out and I just lost it and I wept and wept..and I still can’t get over it..and I don’t know why..”

Then John stood up, turned around and left..without a word, but we could see the tears..

Of course, neither Keith nor I ever mentioned it again.”

Grossly and Morally Improper. ( The political morals of a main-stream media journalist?).

One cannot but feel outrage at the presumption of certain main-stream media “celebrities” to inflict policy interpretation and opinions heavily biased toward their employer..be they of national citizenship or, as in most trashy newspapers and television; a foreign national. What kind of moral base do these journalists work from?..Is it their own , or is it the affected intrusion into national politics of foreign owners or corporations, too keen to inflict hardship, disharmony and division on the national psyche so they can advance their own corporate enterprises?

I would like to advance a couple of opinions of my own if I may..:

For those in Australia who may have heard of Don Dunstan, but are not deeply aware of his achievements, here is a bit of a run-down:

” On 2 June 1970 the ALP regained power in South Australia, beginning the so-called ‘ Dunstan Decade’ of political reform. Under Dunstan’s progressive leadership South Australia was transformed socially, legally, administratively and politically. His many reforms covered areas including Aboriginal land rights, consumer protection, education, housing, licensing laws, welfare and anti-discrimination and equal opportunity legislation He appointed the first Catholic Supreme Court Justice in the state’s history, and Australia’s first woman QC, Roma Mitchell, who later became Australia’s first woman Governor. He fought tirelessly for the principle of equal opportunity for women, with the result that by 1979, S.A. had more women employed and more women employed in the public sector than any other state.
The Dunstan Government was a world pioneer in the field of consumer protection and led the way for the nation. For the first time, statutory guarantees of quality and other protections were provided in consumer transactions. Consumer credit laws overcame many of the injustices of the old hire-purchase system and provided a fair legal structure for the protection of consumers. The used car industry was regulated and legal requirements and warranties were introduced into used car transactions. Similar protective provisions were introduced into a whole range of consumer transactions. Many of Dunstan’s innovations have since been incorporated into the Federal Trade Practices Act.” ( lost citation..but general info’ anyway)

So to say that Don Dunstan was a lead player in the modernisation of Aust’ politics AND a leader in fighting for equality and rights of all citizens is to understate the man’s tireless work for the people and the State. Yet this reformer was brought down politically and personally by a relentless, vicious campaign from the Murdoch media and the Adelaide Establishment (read ; LNP) of the time. His dismissal of then Police Commissioner : Harold Salisbury caused controversy. But the fact was that Salisbury had not only misled the govt’ AND through the Special Branch was also accumulatiing files on selected individuals because of their politics or public activities, and because he personally disagreed with their private and personal allegiances..there were files on gays and unionists and many Labor Party members..

” Salisbury was appointed commissioner of South Australian Police in July 1972 by the Australian Labor Party premier, Don Dunstan. To many it seemed a strange appointment for a progressive, reformist premier to have made. Holding conservative social values, Salisbury deplored permissive policies and social changes that he believed undermined valuable conventions and respect for authority. He publicly supported capital punishment, tough sentencing for law breakers, and corporal punishment in schools, and he opposed the liberalisation of drug laws. Privately, he rejected any religious belief. In contrast to his public image as an old-fashioned, hard-working police commissioner, some close associates regarded ‘Holiday Harold’ as a figurehead who delegated excessively.
On 17 January 1978 Dunstan dismissed Salisbury for ‘giving inaccurate information . . . to the Government’ and ‘having so misled the Government that wrong information was given to Parliament and the public’ (Advertiser, 18 January 1978, 1). This action followed an inquiry into the nature of files held by the police special branch. The inquiry concluded that many of the files related to matters, organisations, and persons that were not security risks, but to ‘political, trade union and other sensitive matters’; and that, despite the premier’s enquiries, the commissioner had not adequately informed him about the existence of these files (White 1977, 6, 67). Salisbury conceded that his answers to the government had been incomplete but argued that the police commissioner, though responsible to the government, was not subordinate to it but was responsible directly to the Queen or her representative in Australia” (Salisbury, Harold Hubert – 1915 – 1991) by John Summers.

Clearly, Salisbury perceived his position as a “law unto himself and the Crown” only…an untenable position in any govt’.

Dunstan died in 1999, driven from office by low journalism encouraged by the Murdoch media..many of the scurrilous rumours bore the hallmarks of unauthorised investigations that may or may not have been leaked to the Murdoch media by an obliging police operative..this cannot be confirmed, but going by the usual methodology of now known Murdoch media covert operations, we can at least hazard a guess. The start of many such political pogroms by Murdoch’s creatures throughout Australia..acting for their “handler” and against the interests of the people and the State..One has to question the moral impropriety of these employees, that they are prepared to act in such Machiavellian ways to keep in standing with their employer. How much further would they go? We saw how far they would lower the standard in the years of the Gillard govt’.

Three popular social reforming Labor Prime Ministers have notoriously been “hunted down for the kill” by the Murdoch media..: Don Dunstan, Gough Whitlam and Julia Gillard..Their policies directed at reforming and improving infrastructure, social welfare and equality for the Nation, were fiercely opposed by the conservative LNP opposition and the main-stream media..particularly the Murdoch media…Whitlam , in his tribute speech to Don Dunstan , reflecting on Dunstan’s own experiences with the Murdoch camp, was to say:

” During the Fifties Dunstan became friends with Adelaide News editor Rohan Rivett and the paper’s young proprietor Rupert Murdoch. During the bitter ALP/DLP split, Rivett and Murdoch invited the young Dunstan to the News office and urged him to defect to the DLP, promising favorable publicity. Dunstan later recalled:
“I looked at them in bemused horror, and said that they quite obviously didn’t know much about the principles or policies involved, the Labor Party and its organisation and support; and even more, they clearly didn’t know much about me.”
Relating this incident at the memorial tribute to Dunstan in 1999, Gough Whitlam wittily remarked that “Don and I must be the only political leaders in the English-speaking democracies to say ‘No’ to Rupert.”..” (http://www.milesago.com/people/dunstan-don.htm)

The above comment gives more than slight clue as to the desired direction promoted by the Murdoch press from even the earliest days..a direction ruthlessly pursued even till this day..That any journalist who joined the organisation from the time of 1970 onwards to claim they were not aware of what would be required of them in regards to political position and reporting style, has to be so stupid as to be unfit for the job or so much a liar as to be unfit for civil society!…The moral implications for running with such management policy would have to be addressed sooner or later by every new employee and either collude to join in voluntarily with the “witch-hunt” or to excuse themselves from such pusillanimous deeds and leave the company. Those who remained firmly embedded with the Murdoch media have to wear the badge of : “creature of convenience” for the Murdoch principles.

At this point we have the right to ask: What is the moral obligation of a citizen for their Nation?..
If it is to maintain an objective loyalty to one’s country and people above political and financial opportunity, then the Murdoch journalists would appear to have failed, and failed miserably. If we go back to the Dunstan / Whitlam / Gillard ministries and recall the headlines most bold that screamed out lies, rumour and innuendo , calling for dismissal and replacement of the Labor govt’s, the vilification through gossip and “scandal” rarely or obscurely apologised, that tore into the personal and private lives of those Premiers and Prime Ministers, we see a cabal of mean-spirited, miserable hacks of the lowest order of scribblers to ever have sold their soul to journalistic perdition..more than that, when we see vital physical infrastructure wasted, vital education changes flung aside, and vital disability and social programs defunded through sheer mongrel ideology, ragingly debased by a servile media, we see the true physical and moral degradation of journalism in Australia.

Perhaps those journalists feel obliged to demand they be allowed to express “their opinions” at will, even if it be on the media platform of a foreign national, at that foreign national’s expense and even more coincidentally ; closely aligned with that media baron’s own wishes and ideology WHILE being paid for their “journalistic skills” by that same foreign media citizen..That being the case, surely then WE; the citizen body who has to tolerate the result of such demoralising, destabilising and sabotage of our society and it’s infrastructure could be equally allowed the right to witness these “journalists” defend any charges of national betrayal brought against them and if found guilty, allow ourselves, for just a moment, a imagined scenario of “delivered justice” much in the manner of how traitors in past ages were dealt with..imagine for just a moment!

The cruel demands of a tyrannical media baron, a foreign national who has infiltrated, privately investigated, debased and in many cases destroyed democratically elected people and governments across one island, two continents and three great countries, using his perverted creatures who have signed their lives and careers to such vile causation, demands an intense examination by tribunal or Royal Commission into whether charges of treason are manifest in the actions of these oleaginous subordinates..and such investigation MUST be carried out with extreme prejudice!

So Smells Defeat.

In a “fantastical” essay , circa 1940, American composer and sometime author; George Antheil describes a frightening scenario of social collapse, economic despair and human misery evolving from a unspecified military defeat. It works through the various stages and locales in city and country of acts of desperation and eventual poverty-driven decadence and crime, culminating in the rise of a authoritarian political philosophy led by power-mania and vengeance upon those opportunistically seen to be oppressing the nation. He implies that this nation could very well be America in another age, but concludes that it ; “…may be America. It was Germany; 1918 – 1934…So smells defeat.”

Some of the decadence described may or may not have been so visibly dramatic, but there are horrifying glimpses describing our society at this point in time..particularly those about the wealthy and their political stooges riding high on the corruption of their nation’s decayed social conditions. These types of parasites exist in every society since the beginnings of the trappings of organised governance, unfortunately they bloom most visibly in times of social and worker distress..in a time of economic uncertainty and lopsided wealth distribution…We are seeing it in these times with too many corporate personalities leaning to the right-wing of governance rubbing shoulders with favoured politicians, seeking taxpayer monies to fund infrastructure projects most beneficial to their speculative enterprises..while much needed education, communication and social programs get defunded..and the wages of those most needed to produce the wealth of the nation get cut or reduced to help grow the profits of individual or corporation.

There is a dangerous (to the working class) level of political “cross-pollination” between the vested interests most keen for govt’ lobby representation and the recruitment of the “retired” politician. This is unfortunately NOW a regular occurrence across all political parties. I don’t know if the attraction of a tidy little nest-egg above their even now quite generous retirement income and superannuation pool is the driving motive, or perhaps just the addiction of keeping one’s personality in the “game” of political action. Whatever the attraction, I would have hoped those “retirees” of the left could restrain themselves or at least to confine their extra-political employment to activities more in keeping to the political philosophies most embraced and most rewarding personally during their role of public representative!

Was watching the ABC “The Drum” (fuck knows why) and there was this ex-politician, the ex LNP , NSW state govt’ treasurer who informed us that he was now high up in the Industry Super Fund Administration…WTF!!??…ok so he may be qualified for the task, but I ask you ; Does he have the ticker and the loyalty for the fund?..or will he be playing a waiting-game for his political sympathisers, ready to drop the whole enterprise snugly into the waiting hands of Big Bank capital speculation and thereby putting the retirement prospects of many workers at risk?..it has to be asked..in all fairness, it has to be asked, as these same individuals may at some time been the biggest ideological opponents of the very funds they now represent.

And then we have Anna Blight doing something for some bastard speculative mob..oh yes ; the banking lobby.. and a number of other retired from politics people working for the “opposite side”, making hay while their sun still shines!..not to mention that bastard of bastards Marty Ferguson working for the fucking mining lobby!…I mean..: who do you trust?..and there are others whose unmemorable achievements I forget…there’s some one now employed as a consultant now for the gambling crowd and so on it goes…I expect a retiring cardinal that we are all familiar with soon to hang out his shingle as agent for a brothel or two!

With the election to Secretary of the ACTU , the workers representative body adopting a new attitude that has drawn a line under this right-wing methodology of using the lowest paid members of society to fund the tax-haven hoards of the wealthiest members and corporations..many of them foreign controlled and run, there is an imperative for us to declare our loyalty to the citizen union body and be prepared to defend our national interest from unrestrained plunder in every quarter by these opportunists and venture capitalists.

The Right-wing of the political parties of Australia must be confronted…it MUST be, as we always suspected it would have to be one day, as their modus operandi has through all time been one of an un-intelligent continuity of take-take-take until there is nothing more to grasp and then it’s onto the oppression until there is nothing more to oppress and then the killing starts…it’s not just some paranoia talking, you can read it it in even the most cursory glance over history..and if one doesn’t learn from history…The Right-wing has no grasp nor interest in social contracts for running either an economy or society..their method of seeking “the good life” through the “door of opportunity” is the use of blunt instruments…to ram the door down and shatter it to bits in the hope of the instant wealth they have convinced everyone is just there behind the door…not for them the precision of an economic scalpel, nor the social conciliation of all-embracing inclusion..no..it’s just a dumb smash and grab venture and the devil take the hindermost!

We of the educated working classes must step up to take a more leading role in the governance of the nation. We can no longer trust an indolent private-school educated middle-class to “manage” our society..they have neither the “outrage of injustice” we witness against our fellow citizens, nor the experience of a “humiliation of poverty” to motivate them to strike or stage “physical protest” to protect our families and way of life.. For too long have the working class deffered to those seen as “more qualified” to speak on our behalf, to represent our needs and aspirations..when all the while, in many cases as written above, they were always only interested in the part of the negotiations that stopped at the gross net income more in keeping for the life they have become accustomed to!

I will leave the last words to George Antheil to describe what could possibly await those who do not subscribe to community ideals and ethics..to those who are more inclined to forgo the collective bargaining tools for individual opportunity..:

“…But a new type of crime will spring into being, it will be the crime of desperation, inhibition and inability to cope with the new life dictated by national defeat and the consequent new economic conditions. Their crimes will be the crimes of those who were never intended to be criminals, they will be stupid, ridiculous and terribly ineffectual crimes…” ……George Antheil .

So smells defeat.