The IPA. : Private School “Brat-Camp”.

That’s what it started out as in truth..Rupert’s father , Keith had to get some institution going to knock some sense into the thick head of his “naer-do-well” lad…and one has to say ; THERE is where it has stayed ever since. A combination finishing-school / reformatory for the more “difficult” of those private school “lesser students”..and to be fair, every young person, regardless of their disadvantages deserves every chance for that “shot at the big prize” in life..and what better opportunity then the best education money or connections could buy?..and one only has to look at the way young Rupert “turned out” to see what a grand success the institution is!..and if not one further graduate of their guided discipline is ever graduated, THAT one fine upstanding example of humanity gives ample reason and justification for its existence…surely….surely?

From the well-scrubbed dormitories of the IPA, those best behaved are released into “day-care” and are trialed in the “half-way House” of the ABC’s ; The Drum…or as a reward for extra diligence in spreading the fat of IPA philosophy ; a run on the ABC’s : “Questions and Answers with mine host : TONY JONES!” ( applause boards held high!). From these undergraduate studies they can then move on to the next position in the network. Such carefully nurtured arse-licking will get one a long way in the National Broadcaster these days!

And we have today a couple of very good examples of what “re-training” in that severe environment can achieve..We have those two shining lights of the IPA. ; MHR Tim Wilson and Senator James Patterson dropped, with the softest of landings, like two firm-stools down a “long-drop” dunny into the safety of the Senate where they can endow the Australian public with their accrued wisdom of ..what?..ten year olds?..and what a couple of little beauties we have in these lovelies! Little Timmy and Jimmy..why just the names alone said like that brings the thought of many a comedy team to mind.

Timmy Wilson..I mean..look at ‘im there..Timmy..who wouldn’t want to hug ‘im ?..what with that “come-hither”, Myra Hindley welcoming smile..and that “scrubbed-clean” shining face all aglow to rival the polished chrome bollards of an Edsell motor car bumper-bar…And almost as smart..and that’s saying something considering the competition to the Edsell..ie The Soviet “Trebbi’” and the Nissan “Cedric”!

And little Jimmy Patterson..now there’s a bit more of a challenge, and you’d have to wonder on the choice of HIM for a seat in the Senate..Perhaps the rest of the brats were out with Simon Breheny power-walking (with full packs) to the top on Mt Kosciusko on that morning..hey!..imagine how shitty little missy Downer felt on getting back and hearing the news!..but she ought know the LNP has an equal-opportunity policy for employing women…as tea-ladies..and as for those “ladies” already there on the front bench, I will want to see them sit a gender test equal to those East-German Olympic athletes before I believe them..as for the males..well, THEY would well suit an intense study into the genetic failings of cross-breeding and animal cloning by the Dep’t of Veterinary Science and Agriculture.

But Jimmy P…let’s face it..NO-ONE would really want to look like THAT deliberately!!…just to see him standing there, with his “best side”, his serious-side always to the camera, so obviously over-groomed like a very serious serial-psychopath..keen to impress..but always unable..practice, practice…he’s got time on his side..after all ,he believes like any devoted brown-shirter; “tomorrow belongs to him”. I suppose one has to concede he was picked for the position in the LNP for the same reason as a “Greasy-spoon” chef would put “fish-extender” into a dish; to “fatten-up” so as to create the appearance of substance.

But that’s exactly all it is, the IPA..; an appearance of substance..no position in reality, a non-producer..another one!..There really is no reason for them to exist..a bit like the LNP really..a anachronism from another age…a feudal age where the local “establishment” lent a guiding hand to the parish on matters concerning The Laird and his environs. Not much different than today’s LNP / Corporate State philosophy. Except there is that matter of the 100 items on The IPA “wish list”. How that list was compiled is a lesson in itself and possibly could never have been compiled without the help of several gallons of “Chateau Cardboard”..why “chateau cardboard” you ask?..because I know those bastards..I have seen them at work..they’re the basest cheapskates when it comes to paying for anything themselves.

The IPA is a joke on the people of this country..a running comedy with two-bit comedians pontificating on every subject so far outside their sphere of knowledge so as to be a parody on reality..and as far as that goes, even now I find spending any more time and words on such a wanking organisation is more than it deserves.
So fuck it and fuck those bastards too!

The End of the LNP. Cuckold Kingdom.

It ended in reality with the stepping down..shall we call it “abdication”..of Menzies from the leadership of that cuckold party, to retire to his preferred homeland to be near as possible to that unrequited love of his life; Elizabeth Two,that other love denied the colonial “rough” through geographical fault of birth..condemned to live his last term as Prime Minister dressed like a bad impersonation of a provincial Churchill, I recall pictures of him in the newspapers, heavy overcoats in a sun-drenched country , peering roguishly out from under a fedora of sorts tilted dangerously forward and soft kid-goat gloves for his delicate hands..denied the motherland of his want, denied the love of his heart and denied the image of a great warrior …thrice denied..thrice a cuckolded King!

And THAT is where the LNP “kingship” ought to have ended..For Robert Menzies was a one trick pony and the monarchy of Australia was his only role..he saw himself as “king” of a nation modernising in the image and example of America, with a lot of American capital. He saw himself as a “prince” of a people worshiping his regal command, when in reality they were a people weary of economic depression and battle weary of war..in some cases TWO wars..and were just hungry for peace, peace, peace at any price..and Menzies and the conservative media really gave it to them..in triplicate!..so much “peace” it could be easily confused with death!

Menzies’ LNP, along with the collusion of a heavily biased print- media bludgeoned the populace with scare after scare of “commie this and commie that”…Soviet reds under every bed and in every Union Hall and meeting..spies and agents lurking on every street-corner…You can pick up any newspaper from the fifties and the headlines will ring out with anti-union, anti-ALP propaganda..especially upon the approaching Vietnam war, where Menzies even outdid himself and committed our troops to that forlorn hope of stopping the “communist dominoes” from collapsing right down to Swanson Street Melbourne…The Kingdom was at risk so the King went to war!..well..not actually HIMSELF, but many young men representing him did.

But no..even the Yanks cuckolded him..he had no real command nor control over his own army..so like a regent in a Shakespearean tragedy, he gave his solemn farewell speech and removed himself to be near, temporarily at least, to that “love that did but pass him by”…and he was duly awarded with “Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports”…yes..” piss him off to the Kentish coast and leave him there to rot”..was the agreement of the day.

And what followed that “regal presence”, but a motley collection of strugglers with intellect low, like the idiot sons of a base, inbred aristocracy. All of them..LESS than remarkable, LESS than useful, LESS than regal..a platoon of poltroons..There is where the LNP “lineage” should have been left to die a natural death, but no, the coarse cloth of conspiracy was eagerly donned by the next usurper of the LNP “right to rule” princelings, not for THEM denial of what was their right! And with the assistance of a drunken buffoon representative of the always interfering English Crown and his judicial arm of Machiavellian advocates, a “New King” was crowned..out the back entrance, fittingly; the servants’ entrance, to Yarralumla..lurking there like a “stage-door Johnny” at a thespian review, too eager to snatch his cellulose crown.

Another coward from that rank of cowards either drooling idiot-like over the spoils of the nation, or carping enviously over their more courageous opposition..Like jealous ex-lovers, kidnapping the national bride in the hope she will one day love him more…and when again thrice refused, attempts to rape and debase the beauty of that bride; that national psyche,…cowards, craven cowards to a person.

How many years have these frustrated regents spent plotting, planning and scheming with their coven of like-minded cronies in the business world..Troglodyte ghouls making secret deals with the traitors of a foreign media mogul to keep their worthless party in office..and to do THAT they would almost sell their arse..almost?..well..perhaps yes..YES! that’s the least they would do! having sold their souls and honour years before. And so they lingered on, like some sort of exiled “pretender to the throne”, druken fool followed fool in a conga-line of suck’oles until one..a most unlikely one got lucky and voila!..a new LNP regent was born!

Fate and fortune smiled upon this weaselly one where otherwise only his mother could. Despised even by his courtiers as a “lying little rodent”, this wannabe King in a fool’s costume.. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISIn1t12xvA ..rode a wave of economic luck into a decade of calm waters. But here too was the flaw in the glass..here too was the “warrior inside the little boy” wanting an empire of his own, his mind thrown back to long, quiet afternoons making machine-gun and bomb noises from spittle-flecked lips while maneuvering toy battalions over his counterpane.

So when the sky of New York was blackened with the smoke of attack, he saw his moment and swiftly aligned “his kingdom” with his allies to wreak “shock and awe” on a helpless people..the wanton death of tens of thousands of men women and children but water off a duck’s back, for he wore that cloak of cruel weave like a mantle of armour, shielding his weak body from the slights and arrows of United Nations fury. And there in his candy-kingdom of sugar-coated deceit of the masses he poured the ambrosia of rapine and plunder of the nations’ wealth upon his “battlers”, basking in a false glory of self-deluded “royalty”, his only adorers in reality those whose “love” could be purchased with thievery, thuggery or favour.

But he too held a secret..a wish eventually fulfilled , for he had been granted what he saw as his greatest achievement, his greatest moment..NOT the success of three terms of office, NOT the legacy of the “gun buy-back” , nor certainly the “stopping the boats” policy…no..HIS most treasured moment, his triumph of conquest, preserved in the pictorial archives of the stinking Murdoch press, that moment of hand-shaking congratulations from the idiot President of the United States of America, who bestowed upon his frail frame, smiling his now indelible trademark “SHIT-EATING GRIN”.. the hungered for title of : “Man of Steel”.

And then not long after, he was voted out of office by a disgusted public, losing his own seat in the process…cuckolded again!

And here in this space now stands the LNP political party, with no future, a shady past, no heroes save the one long buried in a local bleak cemetery, rather than in HIS preferred country other than where he was born..No social commitment to the people of their nation, no loyalty except that purchased with borrowed moneys or bestowed favours and no love at all, even to say more disgust and scorn than ever before, the people now keener than ever for a more attentative consort. But in the end we get nothing more than the choice between a drunken lounge Lothario and a political dilettante shaking his tiny, petulant fists at an increasingly uninterested nation.

And well shall we learn that hell hath no fury like a lover many times cuckolded.

As Game as Ned Kelly.

home-ned-sitting

By the living Jaysus Bloody Keerist, this needs to be put up again and again to remind us how those effing bastards in the “Born to Rule” class will stop at nothing and never cease to try to destroy our icons of cultural heritage and our heroes of rebellion against tyranny..The latest piece of subjective bullshit played out on the ABC : http://www.abc.net.au/radio/programs/overnights/ned-kelly-australian-hero-or-narcissistic-villain/9140780 by what I call a ; “Janitor historian” , ie; those “approved” academics sent in by the conservative establishment to “tidy up” those grubby little corners of history that “blot the copybook” of colonialist tyranny..the “lesser scribblers” of the servile box-tickers..

Mongrels…the lot of them!

Every now and then, as if cue’d by the rising anger of the working classes against unfair social policies..there comes out an attack from the middle-class media barons with “sensational” revelations against this or that union leader / s or against leaders of the Labor party detailing confected or constructed accusations of anything from outright thievery or even the most outrageous accusations..(and this is rich, coming from that class of traitors to everything Australian)..; of a betrayal of the working class by their very leader..they tried it on every Union leader right up to and including the latest and before long , publishing houses bring out books detailing the “latest discovery” of new “evidence” against a working class hero.

Different views are one thing ..but this “seasonal” attacking with intent to destroy with blunt accusations are another..A favourite ploy by the ruling class to demean and demoralize the general mass of working people so there is no “admirable struggler” to look up to or admire, save those “manufactured celebrities” concocted and gushingly promoted by the main-stream media as a kind of “1984 generic hero”, a pastiche of cosmetic good-looks with feet of clay.

The latest has been another attack on the credentials of Ned Kelly. Another “expert” detailing “new evidence” not seen before..to construct a new picture of the man as vulgar, small-time crook and horse-thief rather than the revolutionary.. as his “Jerilderie Letter” and the resulting fight-out at Glenrowan showed both the revolutionary intent and courage of the young man.This idea of “analysis on the evidence” is a tad like the old adage of “knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing”.

The discussion in a recent article of “stolen mould-boards”, “heel-prints” , “stealing from the impoverished locals”?..as if everything is in prime condition and nothing is laying around or given in sympathy…why are some “heroic” persons allowed universal worship and yet others of lower caste disparaged and a weight of “evidence” found and used to paint them scoundrels and terrorists…Why was Nelson Mandela, of royal birth, a lawyer who survived many years captive of his oppressors and then worshiped , yet Steve Biko,a commoner, who didn’t last a week in captivity, executed and scorned?…why was Martin Luther King held up (rightfully) as an idol , yet Malcolm X called a terrorist?..Why was William Wallace butchered on the executioners block , yet Robert the Bruce held as heroic conqueror?..

I’ll tell you why..: VALUE.

What is described in the post above are the standard rules for valuing and de-valueing persons of influence..It was done to Kelly..is STILL being done to Kelly and it was done to Gillard, and is STILL being done to Gillard..It was done to that bloke who asked the simple question on Q&A a couple of months ago and the MSM and the LNP. stooges tore into him, driving him to refuge away from the spotlight. It was done to Norm Gallagher and his BLF. It was done to Bob Hawke and Greg Combet and Sally MacManus..now it is being done to John Setka of the CFMEU. It is done to every labour leader by the Murdoch traitors and the MSM in general…a pox on them all!

It’s the standard procedure to demean and destroy any rising figure that can be held up by the working classes as representative of revolutionary protest. The Tolpuddle Martyrs. The Joe Hills – executed…The Che Guevaras – executed..Yes, and the Ned Kellys – executed…not only executed, but then followed by the diminishing of the story..let not a myth be created that could be held up as iconic or worship as an ideal by the everyday people…

“WE..the ruling classes will decide who will be your heroes and how you will worship them”…THAT is how those cowardly bastards have come to take over and control respect even for the fallen in the wars they have started..claiming those many thousands of killed and wounded working people as THEIR own, controlling every aspect of the tragedy to beat it up into a jingoistic parody of mockery and disrespect…which is why MANY ex-servicepeople do not attend Anzac Day celebrations.

Destroy, destroy , destroy! ..the stories, the songs, the myths..destroy!

I will not go back over the history of the Kelly gang to acknowledge or refute the accusations..enough for the actions of the twenty three year old to defend himself…I just demand to know..:

Just WHAT sort of action by a single person is deemed worthy of respect , we have a man who, in a age of ruling-class oppression of both bloodline and class-status to the point of authorised “police” beatings , abuse of office and rape against the poor and ethnic enemy of the ruling class, that ONE MAN, a young man, will confound , decree with a profound edict and then in absolute arrogance, openly in a letter declare war on his and his peoples oppressors and the ruling governance of a whole colony..

THAT in itself, is worthy of some admiration..the fact that he had a plan to carry it out and did back up his bravado with deed is worthy of some respect..and the fact that he took to the hangman’s gallows that same courage and rebelliousness to metaphorically SPIT IN THE FACE of his peoples oppressors even as the hood was placed over his head and the noose tightened..the utterance of those fateful words demonstrate that given the chance, would he not do the same all over again?

“Such is life!”

I say to those of ALL classes who would debase Kelly’s deeds and the courageous actions of our working class heroes; If you cannot find favour with such heroism, please do not offer to finish the dirty-work started by those most offended by the display of courage..: the ruling class..and diminish or besmirch the ambitions of one of our best people….for he WAS one of us, and I hold him in the highest esteem, not for his public character, but for his courageous intent.

“As game as Ned Kelly”..will outlive all the bloody cowards!

How The West Was Lost…

We have to remark on what “identifies” the evidence of a “great empire”…or a “remarkable civilisation”…and when we do cite such evidence, we invariably point to the ruins of great works, great architecture …great civic constructions..in short , all those incontrovertible examples of material achievement. And sure, such civic constructs are wonderful, are useful for the transport and export of commerce and citizens. But one must ask.. ; are these in-situ monoliths the be-all and end-all of civilisation?…is there a better measure of the achievements of humanity than mere physical ingenuity..after all even the humble crow can adapt a kind of tool to use to its advantage.

No..as the saying goes: “Humanity does not live by bread alone”…and when the time comes when those “great empires” start to fall apart, history shows us that it is mostly unstoppable..and the end result can be as in Shelly’s “Ozymandias”..:

“ I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

A lonely visage indeed..and one that could be relocated to many a modern metropolis in these days of continual warfare promoted and sustained by a now apparent economic necessity…a necessity of destroy and rebuild that fosters both the mighty industrial military machine and the global finance for reconstruction industry..monsters consuming and regurgitating continuedly, almost a vital component now of superannuation investment and stock favourites on Wall Street and elsewhere.

But is there another component of measurable achievement of humanity’s civilisation. I believe there is and it is also a “canary in the mine” measurement of decline and fall of a civilisation…and that is its art.

That’s it..pure and simple..whether it be of several mediums ; paint / music / written / woven / dance…a combination..whatever…if it be expression , TRUE expression of the soul of a peoples, not just a moment of revelry or decadence..if it be that moment captured of an essence of beauty of the heart of the ethnicity…then it will strengthen and embolden those who participate in its renewal of life for the group. And this is the difficult part..and can demonstrate the decay of the tribal element of society..it cannot just be a repetition of a rite or custom..such are peripherals to the renewal of the soul of the tribe..there must be “new art” or new interpretations of the dance of life..every tribe does it by innovation of the age-old oral / personal hand-me-down activity. By making it a “word of mouth” practice, every new generation adds or subtracts just that little bit extra..it could be a personal twist to an old tale..it could be a sudden bit of improvisation to a movement of dance..whatever, because of the need for each new generation to interpret the old, it can’t help but introduce their own “new” to the art.

But what does this mean to us in the West?..The trick of the matter is in the “ innocence of acceptance” of new art. Not meaning to just accepting anything extreme and the more extreme the better, nor that oh so obvious “bad art”.. but by dropping our guard against letting our emotions rather than our intellect judge a piece..letting the music or language do the “talking”..let the interpretive artist, who wrestles with the form, place in front of you their work and just like we judge a meal placed in front of us by the senses we trust, let the artistic works we “consume” play with our imagination and mind like gourmet food plays on our palate..not to analyse it to oblivion, but rather just settle back and savour the moment.. for that is all it need be..but a moment, a line of poetry or a riff of music..or the colour on the canvas, for how many of us really remember but a phrase or two of Shakespeare?…or a bar or two of Mozart or Beethoven?

And this is where the west will be lost, not through war nor depression..but rather by the slow starvation through economic deprivation of artistic support of our souls. Our artistic desires have become a commodity to exchange as collateral of moneys or fame..and in doing so, we lose the innocence of creativity and we fail to stop long enough to let the renewal of our soul be recreated. It has gotten to the point where we look more to recognise the familiarity in new work, rather than originality..We seek the familiar for comfort, we do not allow the amateur into the “art market” without some sort of recognised “cred”, a prize in a known competition, or some other glittering event.
A big mistake was made when the creativity juices of the west were allowed to become exclusive possession’s of the commercial middle-class. This has brought much art into the world of corporate copyright many sounds into exclusive ownership of white-collar investment..much of the written word into the stultifying atmosphere of dead grammar..and as such, “chosen ones” are sometimes promoted as the “next big thing” when all they are is another disappointed experience. Very little that is new, that is wonderful and creative gets left in the flowering fields of free enjoyment of the masses for long…all becomes “owned”..all becomes known for “the price of everything and the value of nothing”…such is the sacred creed of the economic class.. and they are killing us and our art.

Eric Knight, the author of “Lassie Come Home” wrote a beautiful “Author’s Note” to his book of Yorkshire short stories : “Sam Small Flies Again” where he states that many of the best stories, being oral in the retelling, will die with their authors..:

“When a man has little else to rely on, I think he falls back on his blood and background. And so, curiously enough, nearly all of these stories were written five and six thousand miles away from my native Yorkshire. It was mostly being homesick, I think…..But you’ve got to get them down some day and have done with them. That’s the sad part. Probably the finest stories ever made up by writers weren’t put down, and died with them.” (Author’s Note to “Sam Small Flies Again” by Eric Knight).

…and it is sad that so many beautiful characters too will cease to exist after their storyteller “witness” passes on..We have to recognise that the beauty in the art lies not in the commercial recognition, but in the viewers mind..Real art..that is those genuine attempts to wrest beautiful moments that encapsulate that fragile point in time and place and translate it to dance, paint, song or verse must be left not to those who would profit from such a moment, but left to the emotional innocence still living in the community and it’s imagination…or we are lost as a civilisation.

Perhaps it is already too late, for I cannot see how we can regain that innocence of what we see in those tribal cultures we like to document and gawk at as some sort of picturesque novelty..I am not talking about innocence as ; naive, nor gullible..but an innocence “accepting without blocking” the new, the subtle, the amazing without submitting such to analytical cynicism or commercial viability..and why not give art the chance we give sport, when we hungrily look to the next “star player” who with dexterous play rescues his team from defeat to the heights of glory?

And, of course, all new enterprises now have to be submitted to that capitalist axiom of judgement : “…but is there any money in it?”

My Little Window on the Western Wall.

My Little Window on the Western Wall.

Little Window on the Western Wall.

My little window on the western wall,
Opens out on the whole wide world.
It opens out on the mallee plains,
It opens out to the summer rains.

It opens out on a sonorous dawn,
With it’s promising colours in pastel tones.
And embraces within all sorrows and joys,
In silent parade past my western wall.

Flowers of Spring as the seasons go,
Winter wild, Summer mellow.
Fields below the farmer sows,
Crops in serried paddock rows.

A child cries out! A strange bird sings,
Through the sphere of silence rings.
A whiff of desire of a memoried dream?
Against the clatter of urbanity.

Upon a highway that cuts the view,
Cars sweep past in the morning new.
That with the deepening, darkening dusk,
Wearily steal back home to rest.

Yes…

My little window on the western wall
Opens out on the whole wide world,
And within its embracing vision deep,
I watch the world wake..I see it sleep.

Eulogy for a Lost Cause.

The Right-wing of Australian politics signed it’s own death warrant back in the seventies when Malcolm Fraser and his coterie of conspirators colluded in that act of treason where they joined forces with a drunken sot of a Governor General and committed a coup against the democratically elected government of the day.

I still have fixed in my memory a picture on the front page of The Degenerate’s newspapers of four of those Liberal / National Party assembly of supercilious arseholes under the title of “Razor Gang” where they proposed to cut and dice all those social programs of the Whitlam Govt’ ;  I have crystal clear recollection of three of them..Fraser, Lynch and another whom I think was Withers, flanked on their far left (an irony, surely) by the shit-eating grin of the little rodent, eagerly clutching a knife….there, I don’t even have to say his name!

Conservative politics died that fateful November day, when they hand-wringingly gave power to their right-wing loonies to commit such a gross act of betrayal. The Right-wing gained its momentum from an endless attack by the Murdoch press, it’s head honcho chagrined and chastised by Gough Whitlam and chomping at the bit for revenge!..Murdoch was still an Australian citizen then, but that did not stop him acting against the interests of our country’s democracy and welfare and he set his pack of mongrel-dogs loose upon both the truth and decency to shore-up the failing raison d’etre of the conservative cabal. The exact “business plan” currently in place in his “empire”now, even though he has relinquished his citizenship and now runs his Australian traitor rags as a foreign national..except now, perhaps he being an “equal opportunity employer”, there are a few “bitches” roaming with the “dogs” .

But the LNP right-wing were weaker then as the only play in their repertoire was to gain power and the only play in their books now is to hold onto power. Fraser’s administration relied upon Murdoch confected scare tactics of the Nation going broke under Labor…Fraser had few policies but to undo the good of Gough…he was rescued along the way by human or natural catastrophes that gave his administration direction and form. The same with the Howard years, “happen-chance” was his sole salvation: 9/11 , Tampa, The mining boom , mass-shootings etc…all happen-chance events ..a matter of being in the right place at the right time, like a foot-ball accidentally deflected off your face scores the winning goal…a pain worth the suffering, especially if it is thought you did it with deliberate intention.

And THAT has been the whole game plan of this current fumble of the LNP. Chance has at times dealt them such a lucky hand, that, like the chancey gambler who has a run of wins betting on jockey colours, is surprised and confused when the run of luck stops. They are now flummoxed for policy when there is hard work to do….They have gambled away the household income, lied and cheated the “family members” and now are out on the street trying their hand at daylight robbery!

No policy.

No integrity.

No future.

No idea.

The right-wing has only one objective with no sympathy for social welfare of the country and with many coming from a privileged background, no knowledge of how most people do the hard yards with kids, schooling , health and housing. Hence the IPA list of 100 wishes. That old saying comes to mind ; “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride”. The IPA is indeed a coven of beggars..Beggars without the least idea what their wish-list, if applied in reality would create..: absolute social destruction, chaos and anarchy. They are the fool in the joke who throws the pin of the grenade instead of the grenade itself!

The gross ineptitude of this current govt’ is an insult on our nation, our intelligence and the people. Their continued gaffes and cruel intent seem to be all they have to offer. If this pillar-to-post, flight or fight, all or nothing scramble is all they got, then it is going to a lousy long two more years of “coming to getcha!” government.

Better get prepared now…or get organised!

 

The Coward’s Retreat of the LNP.

In my young years, I , like many healthy Aussies, took to sport like a fish to water..I became , in that regional amateur league, quite proficient at the skills of the game..so that the club officials asked me to coach one of the adult lower grades. Of course I accepted, seeing sport as a healthy development of camaraderie, hard work at the game and the encouragement of decency in the sportsperson-attitude..in short; the methodology of good citizenship..I doubt that basic attitude has changed.

What changed and changed in one day, was the team decision by those adults to demand right of the rules of the game where the opposing team could not field (through lack of available players ) a full compliment on the day and so must disqualify themselves and cede the game. I took the team to one side and implored them to resist this easy option and perhaps even loan a player from our side (we had excess) to make a good game of it..a game that I proposed we could win with skill instead of forfeit…..I lost on the vote and had to accept the majority team decision.

What also was lost on that day was that edge of respect for the team spirit..I can accept theirs was the majority decision, but I believed it was taken more out of a insecurity in belief of their own capability..in short, it was a cowards way out rather than confront and overcome that fear. I never regained confidence in that team after that episode and I can feel it now in this “Team Australia”as we as a nation “bulk” at confronting our responsibilities toward worldly needs and problems.

John Howard was the progenitor of this latest retreat of cowardice in a long line of Liberal Party cowards..Menzies, that closet admirer of Adolph Hitler for what Hitler did to the communists, used a cowards retreat against rising Japanese Imperialism…indeed, he even helped “arm” that war machine with shipments (against the Warfies Union knowledge and advice) of scrap-iron to shape their war machine..not for nothing is he forever known as “Pig-iron Bob”. Holt: “All the way with LBJ”, Fraser ; skulking out the back of Yarralumla, waiting for “the word” from Kerr. and then Howard…

Howard took this nation of self-respecting “Bronze Anzacs”, from the beaches of Gallipoli and the jungle trails of Kokoda to the coward’s cringe of The Tampa episode..where he unleashed the SAS military elite corps onto a wretched collection of refugees saved from a watery grave by a sympathetic and honourable sea captain…and THAT is when we were first and finally taken down that slippery slope of shame and disgrace to the position we are now in; the base reaches of dishonour as a country, and cowardice as a people.

This habit of the coward’s retreat formulated and fermented in the dark heart of Right-wing politics must be lanced and the wound sutured and healed if we are ever to, with honesty, show ourselves at the memorials and days of remembrance to those fallen fellow citizens of all those wars and conflicts. How can we, as beneficial inheritors of the peace and prosperity of their sacrifice honestly and truthfully deliver eulogies of respect to their names when we cower and cringe in servile hand-wringing under the covert threat of our own fascist governments…How do we raise our eyes to meet their now statued, stony gaze where THEY faced and in many cases died in a hail of heavy artillery and bullets to protect that very notion of freedom we hold up as our rights when WE will not even face our own responsibilities to elect with intelligent discussion, governments that have honest intention to give service not just to a small percentage elite, but encouragement and equality to ALL it’s citizens?

Sadly, we have not done justice to the dignity of our multi-cultures and history, let alone to the fallen…We have continued to elect those right-wing cowards in the LNP who continue to take us with them on their coward’s retreat away from good social governance down a slippery slope to beat the weak as in Tampa, to manipulate the gullible as in Fraser’s coup against Whitlam’s Labor govt’ and now to betray and sell-on our soil and wealth to corporations only interested in profit-shifting and tax evasion, a habit too frequently practised by our very own LNP politician leaders…and with the generous help of a too compliant MSM , commit acts of sabotage against those necessary social and physical infrastructures like Medicare, Gonski, NDIS and manufacturing.. then the NBN..that most vital and necessary piece of technology for the health, education and advancement of the nation, betrayed, broken beyond repair and destroyed just to satisfy the favour of a most gross degenerate individual. This destruction and it’s promoted celebrated demise by both the LNP govt’ and the Murdoch press has to be equal in disgust, deviousness and treason as the subversive acts of Lord Haw Haw in Britain’s time of crisis..an act of gross demoralising, and destabilising treason that gained HIM the sentence of  death.

Howard enacted the coward’s retreat when he refused to confront that refugee situation he and his govt’ helped to create. Howard brought on a cowards retreat when he tried to enact “workchoices”against the working people of the nation.. the union movement and the fair go concept still here in the citizen body of Australia threw him out of office in no uncertain terms…the same must be done with this shambolic joke of a LNP “government” , along with the arraigning of many of the MSM for their complicit joining in of the acts of  provocateurs , saboteurs and traitors to the aims and means of the people of this country while sheltering under the passport of this country and all the while receiving payments from a foreign national to publish / broadcast on his media platform, words and threats and cajoling meant to undermine the confidence and to sabotage the democratically elected Labor governments of the people of this nation..To them ALL I say..:

Let rigid justice be served!

AND   SERVED   FULLY AND SEVERELY …

A Conundrum of Compatibility.

The Working Class and;

A Conundrum of Compatibility.

We…of the working class, have a problem. That problem is : Servility.

No longer is it a “tugging of the forelock” servility, the elimination of THAT little obsequiousness   was “executed” in the French Revolution along with a generous helping of the useless aristocracy…and with us of Irish descent, with the hard-work of the IRA against the Black and Tans back last century! Even here in Australia at the Eureka Stockade, we gave , as Henry Lawson says ; the ruling class a black-eye and a bloodied nose.

But it was still our lack of education that held us back..our lack of “letters” that confined us to vocal protesting and physical action to advance the cause of working class rights and entitlements. And here, I would salute those militant unions who took the fight right up to the noses of the governing class…The AWU and the BLF “Green bans” in Sydney and Melb’…Norm Gallagher’s  BLF on the building sites around Aust’…now the CFMEU on the streets for all of us! Good work..DAMN GOOD WORK…and more power to them in the future.

But now, in this twenty first century, when more of us than ever have a good sketch of education and we “knows our letters” enough to write down and communicate to a wider audience the need for universal democracy for this multi-cultural society…a society needing for the majority ; good health policies, secure employment policies through State infrastructure developments, decent wages for family security, education and many , many other causes.

We working people have the capacity to write from direct experience of these things now with the expansion of social media and the availability of free content blog sites. These multi-media outlets have exploded the “voice” of every-person to deliver to a watching population the instances of oppression and injustice instantly…and also to deliver the good oil on worthy projects direct to the public without the news being wrung through the filter of a biased, unworthy main-stream media, whose reason for existence is now more to betray, block and obfuscate than deliver news to the public.

But along with this ease of access to communicate, has come another tyrant to try to stand-over , humiliate, correct and control those from a working class education who have important things to say. It is the oppression of “correct communication”. It is another mechanism of the controlling middle-class to suppress this rising enthusiasm of the educated working class from fully exploiting their potential to create an atmosphere of radical politics and radical ideas.

I can speak from my own experience here as I have been a contributor of articles to blog-sites for quite a few years, writing from a left-wing perspective (as ANY self-respecting worker would have to!) and delivering on the subjects concerning social improvement for the nation as a whole..This would go well, I noticed, until I broached the subject of class-warfare between the working class and a controlling middle class. It was this barricade that brought me undone with many on those blog-sites as I was informed that many there were of the middle class and seemed to see themselves as a kind of “gate-keeper” of their middle class values. I was excoriated by a coterie of private school graduates who see ones like myself as an interloper into the exclusive world of correct grammar, syntax and polite conversation…”sure, you can protest..but on our terms!”…I, and my building site aged male attitude didn’t fit..there were times when my commentary would be met with deafening silence and totally ignored..one could almost “hear” the sharp offended intake of breath..such are the basic tools of the offended sensibilities of the “Noel Coward set”, where good manners and knowing one’s place is an imperative to polite society…doncha know?

What, however was more alarming and the reason for the writing of this piece, was the buckling and caving-in of some of the other working class bloggers of those sites. A kind of subservience to what has been created in the world of the written language as the “strata of grammatical purity”…a subtle tyranny set in place by those of the well-educated middle class to keep out the barbarian horde of loud , vulgar front-bar types whose language is more akin to a shout in the street than gentle whispers in the parlour..A nasty piece of useless baggage from an anachronistic era when “polite society” knew everything about good writing and fuck all about good communication! When the job of written communication was more about NOT telling the dirty little secrets of the ruling class.

All this exclusiveness has now gone by the wayside..with the changing script-face of post-modern writing, a more generic style of writing has become the norm..grammatical correctness has to take second place to emojis and abbreviated words…technology and word-limit demands swift response and the increasing habit of texting on the run has brought new language to the fore. No longer must a person who has struggled with the curse of a low-level education wait cap-in-hand for the master of English Grammar to judge or correct their work with either a patronising compliment, like a gold star from the teacher, of wither under the disdainful glare of disapproval..Now, thanks to the great equaliser, those of us who relish more the substance of a political piece than the syntax can just tell those pompous, self-righteous scribblers to fuck off!

So having levelled the playing-field for legitimate commentary, we of the working class must now decide if we wish to be on the same team as those who have gamed our camaraderie just to “lord it” over us. There is now that ; “Conundrum of Compatibility”..will we get on together as equals, or do we of the working class just tell the middle class to piss off and go do your own dirty-work? For myself, I don’t need the bums..they have nothing to offer or help me with…I don’t appreciate their smug delusions of grandeur nor their lazy mental attitude. But I have to concede there is the need for networking, and THAT is the one thing the middle class has a lot of experience in…and their mostly idle unskilled-hands are good for picking up a phone and connecting A to B.

So I would like to see the Labour movement along with the unions and the political arm of the Left  bring more rank and file workers to the political fore and utilise the “in-situ” experience of long-term skilled people to create a new, more structurally sound body of political grunt to confront and defeat the filth from the Right wing .

The reserves of power and enthusiasm in the over-shadowed educated working class must now be utilised and promoted to the highest levels of political office. What some would see as the “vulgar” or “crude” mechanism of leverage of power has to be reconsidered in the light of what we see now in this current government; a politburo of poisonous, poltroons with not the slightest trace of decency and honour for all their years of private, expensive schooling and the best suits and bling OUR expense accounts can buy. We are looking at filth of the lowest order and if these criothans can lay claim to the highest standards of rhetoric and education, then I say ;

FUCK THE BULLSHIT…give the workers the power, we’ll straighten them out !

 

 

 

The Right to an Honourable Life.

Do not think for a moment that this article is a promo’ for The Smith Family Charity or any charity in particular.. not that I have anything against that or any other charity organisation..but I am using their video clip as example to vent my disgust and anger at what I see as gross failure of the govt’ of the day ; The LNP, to give decent and proper support as is the right of EVERY child or citizen of this State of Australia to a decent and respectful chance of full education for every child or citizen that comes under its duty of care.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fN26OjFXxy8

(I take the liberty and I am trusting the permission of The Smith Family Charity to paste this sample “you tube” clip here).

To view this sad spectacle of a child, ANY child in Australia today and hear a charity plead for assistance to sponsor an Australian child because of distressing circumstances is to me an indictment of gross delinquency and abandonment of the basic principles of good governance of the nation. For surely the first principle for governance is to give shelter, security and education to all its citizens…in particular the children, as this secures the knowledgeable future of the nation..and yet we see the clip above of such a child representation, certainly from a state school (no way private!) being placed in an insecure personal situation that would easily brand her as a future client of more gross victimisation.

Yet we can hear this vandalism of a LNP govt’ promote the benefits of “aspirational goals” and they pour seemingly unlimited wealth and investment into the private college / school network, taking such badly-needed funding for such “fattening” from the already hollowed-out and stretched financially state school network!..then abandoning the Gonski schooling proposal through lack of funding to increase the already “double-stitching” on the old-school-tie jackets and table napkins…a deliberate slap in the face for the already “leaners” and a fattened Judas Purse for the so-called “lifters”.

And then we have to suffer the added insult of listening to those pompous arseholes like Minister Pyne , poncing about promoting himself with his mincing poodle voice, or Minister Cash apologising for “forgetting” to register her FOURTH $1 point something million dollar investment property..or even Mr Harbourside Mansion himself pontificating on the merits of having wealthy parents and you then see this advertisement above calling for support for disadvantaged AUSSIE kids!..??…WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??

I’ll tell you what is going on..: Class-warfare..THAT’s what’s going on!..that child in the Smith Family plead is from the working class, in a state school..THAT is the inference, no doubt about it, and THAT is who it is aimed at…this child is a representation of a random working class child in a random state school. So if you are looking for proof of the “killing fields” of class-warfare in our country today, you just go to the statistics of privilege / want…you will find the “privilege” side of the scales heavily weighted with this current government’s funding..you will see the working class denied the basic rights of work security through the abandoning of manufacturing industries and local state industries by this govt’, you will see the abandonment of health , education and social security by this govt’ toward the working classes…you will see reward after reward of more grants and then tax and wage reductions for their electoral interest business friends..you will see the obvious intended abandonment of Gonski, of the NDIS..of renewable energy policies all of which would ensure more employment opportunities and required decency for the working people of the nation.

Instead, we get a steady stream of bullshit slurry trickling out in an almost unstoppable stream from the mouths of these LNP delinquents, bracketed and enlarged upon with a equal steady stream of abuse and vitriol from the Murdoch traitor journalists. This is NOT a government, this is an act of vandalism and “murder” against the working people of this nation..for when one has to witness a charity organisation go pleading for sponsorship for working-class kids so they can have a half decent life, coupled with a deserved, decent education and a chance of a honourable future in this most favourable country on Earth, you just know some-one, somewhere is not doing their duty. That “some-one” IS whoever is first and foremost responsible for “duty of care” to the citizens of the State..: The Government of the day.

The government of this day is the LNP…they are to be condemned as vandals, delinquents and fit for nothing but the trash-bin of history. They have just relegated such in West Australia to that rubbish-bin, let us maintain our rage and disgust of these low-life filth to do the same , with extreme prejudice , to this LNP govt’ at the next federal election!

VOTE THE BASTARDS TO OBLIVION!

Mrs. Fookes and The Marino Fish Shop.

Image result for Fish and chips in a paper wrapper pics.

Let me tell you the story of another fish and chip shop owner. A woman too..not arrogant, nor opinionated or accusative…Oh, she was not a quiet retiring type. She had the voice and stride like a sergeant major..she would call for her child and he would hear her loud and clear half a mile away!…and woe betide him if he didn’t heed her call.

But she ran the Marino fish shop..a shop built by her fisherman husband at the high spot of the carpark that led to the rocky beach there at Marino Rocks..the beach of our neighbourhood..the gathering place of a mix of many nations , ages, young folk of both genders..young teens of the boomer generation who framed a collective there of social sharing and support that relied upon Mrs. Fookes’s  generosity as the backbone of our little collective…she was a saint, even if she didn’t realise it.

Marino Rocks was the end of the railway-line stop, with it’s inhabitants of Dutch, Latvian, Scottish, German, Irish and some of dubious parentage altogether!…but they became ‘fellow travelers’ in that poverty enriched neighbourhood  in the foothills on the edge of  the sea.

By a coincidental twist of fate, while the adults, survivors of a world war, in some cases two wars, an economic depression that impoverished so many, were a motley collection of spiritually broken , in many cases physically broken individuals, who were subjected to the corrupting influence of conservative thinking and propaganda that drove a wedge of fear into their susceptible hearts, their “multi-mix” children, with an improved diet of high protein, clean water, fresh air and unsupervised, unregulated freedom on the wide beaches of  the gulf, grew into wild free-spirited youths, who found rebellion against the restraints of conservative lifestyle as easy as diving off “Sharkey rock” into a crystal- clear , cool ocean. The young men and women that grew from such a healthy outdoors environment, grew bodies that glowed with a shimmering water-silvered endowment that drew the jealousy of the gods! The sea –water that ran from their bodies when re-alighting onto ‘Sharkey rock’ after a dive revealed all the beauty that nature could encompass in desire and comeliness in a youthful human form…their hungry eyes rejoiced in each other with a pagan worship of mother nature’s creation.

Having no money and no capacity to travel far, all the children congregated in a tribal-like conglomerate on the beaches . There was nothing in the stultifying doctrine of Catholicism or the Protestant work ethic that could not be laughed off under the pagan influence of sun , sea and surf and the merciful salvation of Fookes’s Fish and Chip Shop.

Ahh!..Mrs. Fookes..never did she know how much she helped create a revolution in her own small way, by her unconnected generosity to the local kids. From behind the counter of that unique fish and chippery, she contributed to the making of “baby-boomer” revolutionaries. She may have had a stride like a parade-ground Sergeant Major, and a voice to match..but her heart was of pure gold. She wasn’t like “Aunt Mary”, the railway porter on the train station who would line the kids up and threaten any delinquents that she would cut their heads off and put a cabbage in it’s place if’n she had any more cheek!

Mrs. Fookes saw how so many were scrawny kids hungry for a decent bit of daytime tucker, scrounging around for empty cool-drink bottles to cash in for a bob’s worth of chips..one of the kids would go inside with a few bottles at threepence each return deposit and Mrs Fookes would dish out more than a shillings chips and sometimes throw in a piece of fish that “was just laying around waiting for a mouth to eat “…and there’s a couple extra chips or a “ potato pattie for your little plump friend there at the door…he looks hungrier than the rest of you!” and the booty was all shared around amongst many..right down to greasy fingers dabbing up even the last salt grains..’all for one, one for all’…till she worked out a way to legitimise her care by pointing one day to some large empty glass jars in an alcove by the counter..”Listen you kids” she said in her commanding voice, “I want some interesting shells and things to make a sea-side display for the customers to look at while they wait..if you bring me something interesting or curious from the sea, I will give you some fish and chips in return…but it’s gotta be interesting, mind!” and she wagged a finger in warning to not try any silly buggers with her..and she meant it!..and she stuck to her word…The kids would bring their little treasures from Neptunes hoard and she’d exchange for tucker…strange coloured and shaped shells, dug out from their wedge in the rocks…the dried, hollowed out husks of exquisite sea-horses and the like…little treasures given up by the sea..they brought them to Mrs. Fookes like Fagan’s pickpockets seeking reward for their efforts! Did anyone then realise what this meant, this system of barter ?..It meant freedom!..liberated from going home during the day for food..No longer under the parents watchful eyes the children were free to create their own sea-side society from morning to late afternoon,without oversight or consultation with adults!..God bless Mrs. Fookes!..and may a warm fire be forever burning in her hearth and warm slippers handy on a cold night…God bless her.

Mind you, she had to have a pretty tough hide to handle her fisherman husband ; Edgar Gordon Fookes…a stone-cutter by trade, fisherman by choice and garrulous old bastard by nature. Edgar and his sons had a fishers camp on the Yorke Peninsula, where they would set out to their secret fishing grounds and catch choice fish to clean and put on ice which Edgar would deliver straight back to the shop..never were fresher fish, more delicious fish and chips served to a long queue of faithful customers..five or more deep at the counter till a ticketing system had to be introduced.

Edgar would deliver his catch and then lean against the end of the counter smoking his big, fat meerschaum pipe and observing what he called ‘the idle rich” customers coming and going. He was a garrulous old bloke and the kids held their distance when he was around, saving their moments to barter with the kindly Mrs. Fookes when he was away.

Edgar Fookes wasn’t one to be messed around with..story goes that once, in the Fish-market auctions, the independent fishermen were sick and tired of the auctioneer placing their catches down the sale list, even though they could very often be the first there with their lot, just to satisfy and be rewarded by the big corporate fishing companies..one day Edgar challenged the auctioneer on this unfair matter…the auctioneer told him to shut it or else he’ll be last on the list!…Where upon Edgar snatched up a gummy-shark, swung it a couple of times around his head an whalloped the auctioneer off the dias and proceeded to do his own mock auction in place!

One day , on a quiet afternoon, Edgar was “resting” on his arm at the end of the counter watching a matronly looking lady in heavy fur coat  peruse with concerned expression and a pair of  prinz nez opera glasses the trays of select fish in the display fridge…after several sweeps in this manner, Edgar could be observed huffing and puffing in an agitated way on his pipe..Edgar prided himself on the freshness and quality of his catch..Finally, the matron straightened up and dropping her glasses to her bosom, addressed Mrs. Fookes behind the counter.

“ Madam, “ she spoke in a ‘Toorak Gardens’ dialect ,“Are these fish frrrrresh?”.

This was too much for Edgar to take lying down! He swiftly sidled up to the lady and taking his pipe with a sudden but measured movement from his mouth , he looked her square in the eye and informed her in a mocking emulation of the lady’s own accent;

“Madam!…if they were any frrrrresher…they’d be indecent!” and he turned abruptly away to resume his place at the end of the counter..huffing and puffing at his pipe.

Now THAT is how decent folk run a fish and chippery.