The oily impotency of the servile crawler.

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They give me the fuckin’ shits!…You see them all over social media these days, their oleaginous flattery dripping off the sleeves of their latest hero blogger..the servile adoration sickening in its agreement and self-boosting affiliation to vicariously suck up to some degree of perceived wisdom.. to what is most times an article or opinion stating nothing more than the bleedin’ obvious.

“Oh (insert name) “ they’ll say..”I couldn’t agree with you more!…you’ve stated in no more than a thousand words that perfect description of : ‘Oh I knowwww’ better than Sybil or I ever could have….re–spect !”..or wttfuckinge.. What has happened, I have to ask, to that independent Australian spirit?…where has that singular individualist gone?…where now the iconic “Simpson and his donkey”.. the no-surrender young lovers in “Jedda”… that rebellious cast in life’s tapestry from Ned Kelly to the Eureka Stockade warriors?…Where the strong, independent women of Lawson’s stories and the feminist movement’s Germaine Greer in Australia’s growing nation? Are they all gone the way of the Tassie Tiger..nothing now but the rumour of a sighting amongst the wilds of an ever so obliging, mundane suburban terrain?

Back in 1979, Keith Dunstan put out a book called : “Ratbags” praise of the eccentric, individual who takes pride in going against the grain of social lists such characters as Barry Humphries, Germaine Greer, Xavier Herbert and Frank Thring among a host of others…some still living, some dead and many teetering on the edge of the abyss..

To quote from Dunstan’s book..:

“. . . A ratbag is someone who dares to be different; a ratbag is the creature who creates a pinnacle, perhaps only tiny above a great drear of conformity. . . “

Conformity seems to be the idealist aspiration in these times..the materialist / social perfection…the consumer adulation for gimmickry..the low-brow ambition to be in total agreeance with those you admire..or at least want to be seen to admire. And I can’t believe it is in the nature of so many people born and raised in a country free from military, social and political pressure, to want to be so embarrassingly servile to their peers to the extent of eye-watering short, to want to become that worst of creatures : A Crawler!

Again to Keith Dunstan: “ Patrick White was always under suspicion of being a ratbag. Like all great writers, he suffered merciless treatment from the critics . . . He had to win the Nobel Prize before he was accepted in his own country”…This form of cultural cringe is prevalent among the sniveling classes…where they refuse to acknowledge a person or artist without they first getting official “cred” from a “certified authority”…preferably one from overseas. That is why you will always hear a guest commentator being introduced on Radio National with gushing reverence along with a string of prize wins or credible university degrees or honours…clearly a sign of the continuing insecurity of a national psyche.

I would join with but not necessarily agree with those disgruntled ratbags and eccentrics who in disdaining the conformity of a legion of sycophantic, crawling “yes-men” whose only stamp on life will inevitably be the petulant foot of the spoilt and denied brat, and I take great pleasure in telling those who would try to buy us off with worthless materialistic currency to take their small-change opinions, their grovelling conformist posts, their “Oh I adore you!” adulation, convert them to the metaphorical zacs and dinahs and well and truly shove them up their collective, irrelevant arse!

HERE : This is an example of a ratbag of the first order…may there forever be warm slippers on HIS feet in winter, a warm meal on his table and a fire burning bright in his hearth!

The Phantom Turd Flinger of Preston.

I heard this snippet of information from a mate who was from Melbourne..He evidently had once met the above individual who claimed the title. This in itself, demonstrates the profound difficulty that both religion and the civilizing arms of a bourgeois society are up against when they proselytise for conformist behavior from the citizens of a nation.

Evidently, the desire of that individual to perform such an act arose from the result of many sleepless Friday nights when local hoons would, after closing time at the nearby hotel, commence to drink in the car-park and then proceed to do burn-outs there under the shouting and cheering encouragement of mates and girlfriends..all accompanied by the throbbing bass thumping of “doof-music”, that penetrated the very earth under the Phantoms house and rose to the surface, apparently and bizarrely under his very bed!

He set about with a vengeance driven by insomniatic hate to construct a catapult out of a discarded leaf-spring from an old Holden car (“built for Australian conditions”?) Upon completion and testing and alterations and more testing, he ended up lobbing a satisfactory test “package” at the desired target with all the skill of a trained artillery officer. One has to give credit here for the determined tenacity to try again and again the varying degrees of tension of the spring, the direction – allowing for wind speed – of the “missile” and the parabolic curve to reach the desired target with a high degree of accuracy.

Now, I have to wonder , considering the “manufacture” of his “missile” , whether he kept a few “in storage” or he produced  several “on the day” of the presumed Friday night raucous. I would plunge on the latter…: “fresh is best”…as they say, for he would “deposit” a “bomb” in a soft-paper-bag, tie the top and place this in a fixed tin on the plate of the leaf-spring, drawn down in tension ready to fire..he would then set the direction desired and with a look to the sky for a hint of wind speed, do the final adjustments for the mission..

On the night in question, he set about his task with a anxious trepidation..and why not?..after all, here was the “acid test” of much planning and hard work..not to mention the pride of the idea of conception. Needless to say, going by the title of this piece that he achieved in notoriety, his “bombardment” of the hoons and their coterie was a ghastly success, judging by the screams and chocking sounds of vomiting and retching that came from the general direction of the car-park..the burn-outs soon stopped and our anonymous hero from the suburbs went to sleep once more with a happy and satisfied heart..his last waking thoughts dwelling on whether he could use his contraption to wreak havoc on some nearby industries that he found unsuitable to his contentment of habitat.

I have to comment that it must be admitted that many of us meander through this life in an aimless fashion, driven by the winds and tides of social currents, without achieving any accolades of admiration at all..So even though this chap could not without some criticism claim the title afforded him, he could go on his way with the inside knowledge of “a job well done..well done indeed!”..

Ah!..this world is full of marvelous idiosyncratic characters..which demonstrates that God, at least, must have a divine sense of humour.


Blogging with a “common” voice.

We, of the fifth estate, seem to be caught in some sort of endless loop of outrage …. and every now and then we throw a legitimate “bomb” or two off the “train” that hits the political target … but mostly, it’s a long ride stroking our elocution egos and practicing our pouting sneers! …. One gets the feeling that the opposition has tuned out and dropped out … our cries of outrage have become more and more shrill.

This may be because the MSMedia. has command of the morning clock-radio-alarm audience and the hard-copy press has control of the visual-posters outside the milk-bar / deli’ that grab first impressions for the commuter’s day …. we are down the information ‘food-chain’ a bit and perhaps opinions are already subconsciously formed before we have a chance to put our case across … we therefore have the added difficulty that, unlike the fourth estate who has already claimed the morning “high ground” of news and views, the fifth estate has to put across a damn good, convincing argument … in the space of a few hundred imagination capturing words .. keeping in mind, the reading punter’s finger is forever hovering over the “click” button as they sip their café lattes!

I have one opinion on how we may be able to embrace a wider audience … we may have to close the distance between the reader and the teller .. by “the distance”, I mean the academic discourse distance. There are many good blog-sites delivering solid, witty and in-depth articles over the web … but I have noticed they nearly all (the serious ones at least) “speak” with an “educated mind” … they all talk ; “academic savvy” .. even sites like “loon pond”, though thoroughly enjoyable, still echo the cultivated grammar and the trained eloquence of a good education. There’s nothing wrong with a good education, I knew a bloke had one once, cost him a fortune .. he brought it from Tassie .. it’s just that many people are either over-awed by such or fall into a habit, of which I was a long-time culprit, of deferring to those who are perceived to have one and therefore perceived to be “better informed” .. (cough, cough!) …. and as a consequence, with-holding much conversation that could be added to the general pool that would aid communication to a wider audience … Waiting for Godot .. if you like .. after all, I would think we here at The AIMN are all interested in encouraging friendship (HAH!).

There are many on The AIMN (or on any other blog-site)that could deliver their nous and stories to a wide audience, judging by the ‘hit” numbers the site gets. Some may think they have nothing of great store to tell and are hesitant that they have the skills to tell it, but that is of no account … I say : “Have a go” it doesn’t have to be an epic, just a few dozen words of general observation gleaned from one’s travels through life …. as Charles Darwin observed .. : “It’s not so much the little things in life, as the life in little things” … it would surprise many just how much “savvy” information can be filtered from the shortest of interesting sentences, after all .. look at Haiku poetry ..

But it helps if those cameos of “certain moments”, even political moments, can be delivered with a “common” voice, a familiar vernacular with or without grammatical correctness. After all, some of the best storytellers I have listened to have had that foamy fleck of beer on their lips and a resounding belch to finish up!

That last article I put up: “History from the back of a beer coaster” is a case in point .. While I had done the research to back-up my broad assertions, I did not need to drag all those links and references onto the page .. and THAT was the objective .. I could just paint the picture with a broad brush and keep the “conversation” moving along at a brisk pace … the post then doesn’t become a chore to wade through … sorry, but it has come to this state that anything over 1000, words hardly gets a thorough read anymore … skimming is all the go it would seem .. especially on a blog site.

The other thing that drags a blog into the mud is the old insecurity that many adopt of clinging to allegiances .. the “seeking out of the oracle and the worship of the idol” .. I don’t think I am giving any secret away when I say : Forget it! .. no-one’s that bleedin’ smart .. not now nor ever .. as nature has shown .. everyone and everything is expendable .. so make your point and then get the hell off the stage and let some one else have a go!

There .. the “Fat Lady” has sung.


Got the old shack up for sale.

This may sound like a bit of sentimental tosh..but hey..

Got the old shack up for sale…years ago, back in around 1980..we (the family / brother, sister and the old folks) chipped in a few hundred quid each and bought this block of land on the peninsula and I built a holiday shack there..sure an it was built on the dirt cheap , out of bits of sticky-tape and bent wire sort of, but it was great for the kids to get away from the city and we’d go fishing, crabbing, that sort of thing…

You’d get there and the first thing is you’d run to claim a bed and throw your clobber in one of the two big rooms with four beds in each, grab a crab-rake or fishing rod from the corner and make for the beach..the shack..and it really was a shack..was just to flop in for the night..cook the tucker in and watch the fire burn and crackle before you hit the sack….it was effing great when the kids were growing up..

Some times there’d be half a dozen or so family or friends kids and the parents over for the school hols’ and it would be a whale of a time..sometimes on one of the days, we’d all go to Pt. Vincent to fish off the wharf there and I’d go check out the books and such in the op-shop over the road in St Neot’s church (best find : a first edition of  T.E.Lawrence ; “Seven Pillars Of Wisdom” !..heyyyy!) annex and we’d all end the day before going back to the shack with a big butcher’s wrapped paper pack of fish and chips…and how many chips went to the gulls!..the fish being caught local from one of the fishing boats that worked the gulf in the area…geez! was good.

But now, the old shack is up for sale, I am getting too old to maintain it..and after the recent hernia operation ( I’ll tell you about it someday!)’s all getting a bit too much for me..The kids have grown up into gen Y adults..and are no longer interested in “crab island” or “cockle cove” or “starfish rock”….the shallow flats are “smelly” now..and just who wants to gut and clean their own fish anymore?..indeed…who wants to even go fishing anymore..and the old place has that “old smell” and never was pretty..the old shack..not like the brand-spanking new McMansions popping up all around the little enclave..and NO-WAY will anyone be using the “out-the-back” dunny..even if it is a flush toilet..the spiders?.. the dark!? And the rainwater in the old it safe to drink?…doesn’t everyone nowadays have an ensuite?

And those retirees who came here to getaway from the city…and brought the city expectations with them, expect there to be ; services, no fire risk..and that grey-water run-off from the kitchen and the shower that goes under the trees to keep them watered in the long hot that a health risk, is it legal?..and if there is a bush fire, those trees around your shack could “catch on fire and send it onto my house..I’m going to ring the council”…But the birds, the animals, you protest..the delicate native lilies and such?..Poison the lot…not a blade of grass..not a hint of verdant cover shall tarnish the scoria and gravel expanse..

It’s the school holidays..and there are no kids fishing..not even an adult walking the beach..nor at the wharf at Pt. kids, no people even to watch the crayfish boat sidle up to the wharf and unload it’s catch..not a curious soul..what has this a kind of Brave New World of hideaway there no wonder in nature anymore? cry of children in a discovery of delight..Do not the parents delight in showing and explaining even with a touch of bullshit those strange shells and twists of sea-worm tell lurid tales of the goings on there just around the next cliff of “smugglers cove”..of dark nights and pirates and booty and good lord knows what else to see the wide-eyed wonder in their eyes as they fall to sleep snuggled in your lap by the fire in the old shack…

The shack is up for sale now..and I was there to cut the grass and tidy the place up a tad so it’ll look good…But really, it is only being sold for be wants a shack see..everyone now has an ensuite..the kids their ipads or smart-phones..But you know, as we were walking on the cliff-top road down to the jetty there..for just a it the wind-blown smell of the mallee trees in flower, or the cry of a gull surfing the air…for just that one short inhale of breath, I was back in that time with the kids and our arms full of fishing gear and buckets and a crab-net and we were all laughing and heading to the jetty and my little boy was saying that he bet he will catch a big, big squid…for just that one short moment..

Time has stolen the years from me , and I could bloody well weep.





I’m worried about you ladies.


I was there giving my glasses a bit of a clean with that stuff supplied from ‘Specsavers’ .. you know .. that stuff that smells like those dentists surgeries of old … that stuff you spray on the lenses from a little misting bottle … much like a scent bottle that women spray onto their wrists at the cosmetic counter .. and then smell the sample of scent … their eyes following their thoughts up as they deliberate … I know this because I watch women … not in a purvey sort of way .. just the little mannerism as they go about their purchasing of things .. for there is an intricacy of behaviour within every psyche that gives clue to their cultural ‘aclimatisation’ … while MY partner is also there deciding on stuff .. I’m looking … just watching..

Men, in general .. I am afraid to say .. do too much purving and not enough observing of the opposite gender.

You see .. it’s important to watch people .. you learn. People have asked me what would be my favourite place to go for a holiday and are suspiciously surprised when I say that I would like to be left undisturbed, sitting for as long as I want, on a resting bench in the middle of a busy mall of a busy city shopping arcade … just looking at the passing parade.

Even now, as I accompany my good lady when we are at the Central Market, I watch and wonder where all these people come from and go to at the end of the day .. I know they go to a residence somewhere .. a “home” .. and they take their shopping there and go about their domestic duties and such …… but there are so many of them! .. and there must be others outside the realm of the shopping complex that are friends or family and wait for them to come home .. millions of them all making their way about city or suburb .. shopping .. and what of the thousands of tonnes of produce shipped into the supermarkets and then purchased and taken away every day?

And so many of those shoppers in percentage are women.

I have reached that age and appearance when I can be considered a “harmless old bloke” … an ; “old timer” … who can talk to and be seen as “non-threatening” by the ladies and I can be sometimes amusing .. in my own way .. and when I look at some of those young lasses with the tats and cropped hair like a Rocker of old, I reckon they could flatten me with their left-jab! … and so I can sit on the ”pensioner’s bench” over the walkway from “Goodies and Grains” down at the market and just do a bit of casual observation of all and sundry who walk past … But it is mainly the ladies that interest me.

Blokes are not that interesting .. I suppose having grown up inside of one, I have no inclination to get to know others .. and besides .. they really only come in three different types .. : The Pretentious .. ; suited, with that self-important air and fashion-of-the-day haircut and shoes, striding briskly like they have an important appointment to keep … when really we know they are longing for the end of the day so they can have that beer or mixed drink and talk themselves up a bit down at their local …. The Worker …. fluros and steel-capped boots or shoes on his lunch-break .. a cluster of keys jangling from their hip-clip and stuffing a pasty into their face while clutching a carton of iced-coffee in their grubby hands …. The Slob …. with the arse of their jeans hanging down so you are glad they have a hoodie or open puffy jacket of some kind hiding their arse-crack replete with the red spotted pimply bulges of top-end bum from your gaze .. they have nothing going on in their lives and their sliding “potato-cocky” footsteps reveal a lack of intention to apply for anything either … and good luck to them too! … pensioners like myself in public if certainly not in private activity, I dismiss as generally innocuous spectators on life.

But the women .. Now there .. is a different kettle of fish. Just to see them sitting at a table eating their purchased healthy lunch of lentils, salad and vegan meal wrap is an education in itself … but to do it while reading a magazine or punching in texts on their mobile and without spilling a bean-sprout from the bread-wrap denotes a skill of style management par-excellence. THAT in itself I can admire and wonder at … but then the way they sit at the table … not slouched like men .. ; hands in jacket pocket(even when gesticulating lazily) and sliding off the seat in a wonton display of disgusting slovenliness …. No .. there is a delicacy even with the most casual gen ‘Y’er … aware as they have been since teenage years that their whole body is on display whenever they go out in public, there is style even in lounging over a magazine at table while making genteel small bites at that vegan/salad wrap … the tucking with delicate finger-tip back in between the lips of that sprout shoot that attempts to evade consumption … then a quick flick of the magazine page or a swipe left … marvellous!

And walking on those tiled malls .. Tell me … are women’s shoes deliberately designed to make an extra loud sound as they walk .. perhaps with the subliminal IN-tention to attract the A-ttention of any suitable mates to them .. much like the humming warble of many female ornithological species when calling to “sound out” suitable partners? … Because I can hear a woman’s step a long way away .. their rhythmic tapping of heel to tile a sort of Morse-code cryptology to my ears .. even those slips of Asian women with sandals have a way of “slapping” their sandals, no matter how soft-soled, on the tiles so that a sharp clap is snapped with every step … I have experimented with the observed style and ; yes .. there is a knack to making that sound … I put it down in some cases to a walk developed from striding on uneven surfaces where the sandal has to be “snapped-back” to the foot with a natural clamping movement of the toes … to keep the sandal from slipping off in uneven terrain … but that is only a theory of mine.

Dress sense is another thing .. sure, there are a number of the suburban “trakky-dak” connoisseurs, who seem to have abandoned any concern for style or taste and flop about in public like a beached Delphinidae …. but these are in the minority … Oh, don’t for a minute think that I deny any right for such to dress or flounce as they please .. go right ahead, flounce away! .. I am but observing and reporting .. But for the most part, even the aforementioned casual vegan-wrap eater, there is consideration taken to “mix ‘n’ match” to a certain demanded style, be it ‘street’ , ‘summer’ or ‘environment concerned’… so that even the lotus-style sitting on a café bench-seat ; al-fresco, is a couture’d delight! … then there are the “dressed for executive impress” ladies who have gone the whole rack on expensive looking clothes and shoes … with the full Max-Factor as well! … There are those who along with the precise intention of the fashion also adopt facial expression sternly suited to the picture … emotionally impervious to public gaze, serious to the eye and thoroughly professional in the deed at food stall or shop .. their grip on purse as tight as the same on a career direction.

But it’s the voice that most draws the male sense of desire toward the female of the species .. any species where a male is concerned. The musicality of that XX chromosome gender when they speak is more than just music to a heterosexual male’s ears, it is the primaeval call of the wild … And a sudden burst of laughter from a group of women will draw the immediate attention of every male within earshot .. their “women in vicinty” antennae honing in like a guided missile. Good reason that the most successful woman singers deliver their songs in a coaxing, soothing croon … like Billie Holiday tempting the senses with a vocal velvet caress, even when singing of dreadful things ..  .. or Piaf, with her coarse shivering tremolo, creating a certain undeniable hunger or want in the male psyche.   And too, the Germanic guttural harshness of language melts on the tongue of a skilled vocal fraulein, into a temptresses lure to desire … I think of that alluring number by Lale Andersen (here featuring pictures of Marlene Deitrich) : “Lilli Marlene”  …

I have often wished for and certainly been envious of those males who possess .. sometimes undeservedly … a deep bass-baritone voice .. for I am certain that such vocal harmonies hummed in such a low masculine tone are an almost irresistible initial attraction to the female of the species. My partner’s son has such a voice .. even from a young age, and some of her female friends have confessed to keeping him on the phone with contrived enquiries when ringing her up just to hear his voice … and I don’t wonder that Sean Connery’s : “James Bond” had Miss Moneypenny obliging his every stationary request with her stenographic skills … I just wish!

Yes .. I worry about you ladies .. For I wonder if all this astute attention to small details you do in walk, talk, dress and style is appropriately appreciated .. NOT that it is only directed AT or FOR that section of the male fraternity, whose unfathomable and deluded vanity seems to heed not the wise sayings of the sages of old … : “A house without a woman is like a lantern without light.” So they proceed stumbling blind to all womanly beauty, into the lonely darkness with neither clue nor idea of direction nor destination … I weep for them .. : “Perfume of embraces all him assailed, with hungered flesh obscurely, he mutely craved to adore.”

But what I most worry about is that there is a confederacy of people .. mostly middle-class idealists and zealots who wish to take control of any conversation about the relationship between women and men and steer it away from mutual affection or admiration .. EVEN allowing for the massive blunders of emotional, sexual and physical misdemeanours that have blighted so many relationships and brought so much hardship to so many .. and they want to steer the conversation to a dark and lonely place, isolating each from each other by focusing on the eternal and predictable violence and conflicts between the genders .. an absurd and bizarre denial of the unstoppable and natural impetus that pulls a man toward a woman and through all its faults creating a connection that is physical, emotional and spiritual the like of which cannot be matched in a knowing intellect toward each other .. no matter how much we want to fool ourselves .. by any other relationship in the natural kingdom on this Earth .. The joining of man and woman is but a start of a long journey toward adoration.

For my part … till the day I die, I will adore thee ……

Can the citizen body(social) litigate a political body (corporate)?

Here’s a little teaser for the weekend..But first let me make a disclaimer : I have no training or standing in any platform of the study of law and I place this debate on site for whomever may be inclined to contest the proposal..

It has to be admitted that the fair state of security anticipated and expected as compensation in what we call ; “A Civilised Society”, comes at some cost to both the citizen and corporate body. This civilised state is trusted to be implemented by those political representatives elected and remunerated by The Citizens of The State. What can be called a “Duty of Care” responsibility.

When we attend daily to our work, business and social activities, we expect to do so with a sense of security and calm deliberation as can be best achieved in the civilised state that has authorities and policing arms to maintain law and order in such a manner as to give that sense of calm deliberation that all is under control and we need not be afraid nor concerned.

And, in a civilised state, THAT is how it should be.. IF those elected representatives did their job properly!

Necessity of settlement and all that comes from an established population that is self-reliant and all-inclusive, demands legal boundaries that give clear understanding of the rights and obligations of both corporate and citizen body…These boundaries are the obligations agreed upon by representative members elected to oversee a Parliament that makes such laws and agrees to such social and infrastructure changes as required when needed. It is when these political bodies lapse in their duty of care or deliberately institute legislation detrimental to the citizen(social) body in the majority that it has to be asked if such action calls for the Citizens of The State to instigate legal “class action” against the political (corporate) body to recover and compensate for damages done?

What is a legal person or “citizen”?

“A legal person (in legal contexts often simply person, less ambiguously legal entity) is any human or non-human entity, in other words, any human being, firm, or government agency that is recognized as having privileges and obligations, such as having the ability to enter into contracts, to sue, and to be sued.”

The term “legal person” is however ambiguous because it is also used in contradistinction to “natural person”, i.e. as a synonym of terms used to refer only to non-human legal entities.

So there are of two kinds of legal entities, human and non-human: natural persons (also called physical persons) and juridical persons(also called juridic, juristic, artificial, legal, or fictitious persons,Latin: persona ficta), which are other entities (such as corporations) that are treated in law as if they were persons.” (Wikipedia…)

So it would appear, to this lay person at least, that there is some scope to name BOTH the citizen(social) body and the political party(corporate) body as “entities” with similar rights and obligations even while they are held apart by a necessity of legal identity.

“While human beings acquire legal personhood when they are born (or even before in some jurisdictions), juridical persons do so when they are incorporated in accordance with law. : (Juridical person : Entity (such as a firm) other than a natural person (human being) created by law and recognized as a legal entity having distinct identity, legal personality, and duties and rights.)”

Given then that both citizen and political party can be seen as having identity obligations toward civil law and order, and the breaking of an “agreed contract” between those two parties by either of those two parties, would it then allow a case of litigation to be measured against the offending party? In other words; When we have a political party (say; The LNP) deliberately enacting legislation favourable to a vested interest embedded within that political party but detrimental to the citizen body, would there be scope for a class action by the citizen body to recover damages from that individual political party?

“In some common law jurisdictions a distinction is drawn between corporation aggregate (such as a company, which has a number of members) and a corporation sole (which is where a person’s public office is deemed to have a separate personality from them as an individual). Both have separate legal personality. Historically most corporations sole were ecclesiastical in nature (for example, the Archbishop of Canterbury is a corporation sole), but a number of public offices are now formed as corporations sole.

The concept of juridical personality is not absolute. “Piercing the corporate veil” refers to looking at the individual natural persons acting as agents involved in a company action or decision; this may result in a legal decision in which the rights or duties of a corporation or public limited company are treated as the rights or liabilities of that corporation’s members or directors.

The concept of a juridical person is now central to Western law in both common law and civil law countries, but it is also found in virtually every legal system.” (Wikipedia)

Incorporation of political parties

Parties are required under the definition of ‘political party’ in s.4 of the Act to be an organisation before they can be eligible for registration . . . “ (AEC : Party registrations / Incorporation of political parties).

Given that most well-established political parties are registered corporations, surely that would place them under the obligations of corporate law? And even though they can claim “mandate” by gain of office to frame and pass legislation, if they promise one set of objectives BEFORE gaining office and indeed, used such claims TO gain office then do a turn around (as was denied and then done by the Abbott LNP government) and institute political actions and legislation that are destructive to civil institutions and civil infrastructure when in office…surely there is scope to construct a class action by the affected citizen body to recover and claim compensation NOT from The State (a separate social body from the corporate political body) , but from THAT particular political party?

“Sovereign states are legal persons…The concept of legal personhood for organizations of people is at least as old as Ancient Rome : a variety of collegial institutions enjoyed the benefit under Roman law…: “Ius Naturale, Ius Gentium”…: Law of Persons, Law of Property, Law of Obligations..” (An Introduction to ; Roman Law..; Barry Nicholas)

Go for it : Discuss  . . .

WE have a very serious problem with the Main-Stream Media..


We have a very serious problem. A quite dangerous precedent happening with the deliberate covering-up of political damaging information by the main-stream media. This , combined with a never ending onslaught by the Murdoch employee journalists to attempt to divide the community on ethnic, demographic, religious and personal life-style preference lines is slowly corrupting our community. We are already a divided nation on ethnic and religious lines, driven sometimes to fatal fever-pitch by Right-wing shock-jocks feeding the Murdoch media hate machine.

A study of past societies will easily demonstrate that a nation divided cannot stand, but it is also well documented that while leadership could be corrupt, if the people living under that tyranny are in the majority united and acting with their core decency intact, that nation can rise above such corruption. This is the case now in Australia, I believe We, as a people have a core decency that can rise above this corrupt government and once again restore the respect and honesty to governance that is required.

BUT..if this current condition of giving the Murdoch Media a free rein to spread its vile base of division and hate continually through our community, the eventual result of such cancer could tip the scales so that if the majority of the citizens is persuaded to go along with the corruption promoted and practiced by this govt’ and its vested interests, there will be little hope for long term Peace and equality in our community.

At this moment, it is without doubt that it is the Murdoch media above all other MSM outlets which is concentrating its vitriol on the most vulnerable. The recent admission of the once Prime Minister ; Tony Abbott, to laying drunk in the building while a vote on the rescuing of the economy of our nation was being debated on the floor of The House demonstrates how inept and unsuitable for the office of Prime Minister that man was. An identical situation in the case of the member for New England was also glossed over in the same manner…Yet this most important and political dynamite information , while being well known (and suspected along with other salacious hints of behaviour) in the Press-Gallery circles and “insiders” of government house, it was not delivered to the Australian people by those self-appointed guardians of democracy ; The Fourth Estate, until after securing a hold on their political offices…Sure, the rumours did fly, but were not corroborated, in fact, I would go so far as to claim these facts along with a host of other totally outrageous behaviour actions, including the obvious flirtations with chiefs of staff and other members of staff, that was a most gross insult to his marriage partner and in itself ought to have disqualified them from holding any office above janitor for Alan Jones’s  private dunny!

What has been happening is the deliberate and conspiratorial collusion by mainly the Murdoch media and its employees to have a LNP govt’ foisted upon our nation so that vested interests could lobby such a govt’ to damage, destroy or implement policy disadvantageous to the national interests so as to facilitate an open-house, free-market, winner take all economy most suitable for the 1% and the devil take the hindermost.

This is now reached its most dangerous stage. The politicising of overseeing authorities, the castration of the office of Solicitor General , the corruption of the ACCC, the implementation of a ruthless ABCC to hit upon union activity, the strange and inconsistent behaviour of the policing and security agencies, the complicit behaviour of a certain magistrate in a recent TURC royal commission, and the list goes on…we have a serious situation in place that will warrant intense investigation as one of the first order if Labor gain office at the next election.

There will have to be some sort of investigative tribunal put in place to look into the connections between those vested interest institutions like the banks, the business council, energy suppliers, the above govt’ authorities and the Main-Stream Media ..PARTICULARLY those arrogant mouthpieces in the Murdoch media , who, while sheltering under the protective umbrella of their Australian passport seem only too willing to sell the interests of our/ their nation out to an overseas national who is their act of treason if EVER there was one, and a behaviour that should deserve the most stringent account before a court of law!

There will have to be oversight of the MSM, particularly in regards to the Canberra Press Gallery. This “institution”, acting now as little more than a cabal of vested interests and lobby groups will have to be stripped of its press-status and admission to the The House Press Gallery and a complete review done on each and every member. They have shown past reluctance in the integrity of their responsibility of “frank and fearless” reporting of those representing our democracy, and if they cannot be relied upon to tell the truth or report the details relevant to our making a decision on who is to future govern the nation, then they do not deserve the privilege or right of entry to the heart of the Parliament.

I, in my own tin-pot way will be exercising my right from this day by serially blocking all MSM journalists from my Twitter Stream that I do not feel have come up to a decent standard of honest reporting on the politics and politicians of the day..and THAT will certainly be EVERY Murdoch journalist without exception..and I acknowledge it may not seem much of an action, perhaps even laughable in some quarters, by I am also aware, as should we all, that in this moment of history, Social Media is THE MAJOR source of outlet for the distribution of information AND DISINFORMATION…and by blocking them, I am protesting against the spread through my followers and their followers of THE most vital distribution outlet of the Murdoch Media.

They can go screw themselves!


Walking wide awake into a fantasy world.

Many of you would remember an extraordinary film from the early seventies. At a time when the lives of the Baby Boomers was reaching the explosive years of their twenties … LSD. , Cannabis, other illicit drugs and good ol’ reliable booze had reached epidemic proportions among the itinerant youthful population … WE .. were the “sons and daughters that were beyond your command” … of the Bob Dylan song;  . Into this world of lived freedom of thought fell several films of what could be described as ;The Fantastical Genre ….  Films like “Zabriski Point” , with the accompanying music of Floyd (“Careful with that axe Eugene .. ”) , The Grateful Dead, Patti Page: (The Tennessee Waltz) , The Stones and others … Official trailer .. : . Then there were the Fellini films .. ; “Satyricon”, “Cassanova”, “Roma”, all played out in voluptuous settings and peopled by the most bizarre characters in a fantastical dialogue.

And also there was this .. :

“ A Clockwork Orange is a 1971 dystopian crime film adapted, produced, and directed by Stanley Kubrick , based on Anthony Burgess’s1962 novel of the same name. It employs disturbing, violent images to comment on psychiatry , juvenile delinquency, youth gangs, and other social, political, and economic subjects in a dystopian near-future Britain.

Alex  (Malcolm McDowell), the central character, is a charismatic, antisocial delinquent whose interests include classical music (especially Beethoven), committing rape, and what is termed “ultra-violence”. He leads a small gang of thugs, Pete, Georgie, and Dim, whom he calls his droogs. The film chronicles the horrific crime spree of his gang, his capture, and attempted rehabilitation via an experimental psychological conditioning technique by the Minister of the Interior, named Ludovico. Alex narrates most of the film in Nadsat, a fractured adolescent slang composed of Slavic (especially Russian), English, and Cockney rhyming slang.

The soundtrack to a clockwork orange features mostly classical music selections and Moog synthesizer compositions by Wendy Carlos. The artwork for the poster of A Clockwork Orange was created by Philip Castle with the layout by designer Bill Gold.” (Wikipedia)

A most visually assaulting on the senses experience for those times .. and even for today(though somewhat dated in production), it can be a strange fruit. Here .. the original trailer … :

And here, Thamesmead South Housing Estate where Alex knocks his rebellious droogs into the lake in a sudden surprise attack ..

But these trips into the fantastical world of make-believe were tempered in those times by the hard reality of having to get to work on the Monday morning in at least some sort of state fit for the job … a level of expectation sometimes way above the possible! .. So they resided in the mind’s eye still as little more than a visual experience.

But now, in this post-modern, super-sized world of CVR (cinematic virtual reality), anything seems possible .. fantasy becomes “reality”… and the world of the everyday melds very quickly on the screen to a world of illusion with seamless ease …  : “ Unlike traditional VR (virtual reality), CVR limits the level of control users have within the environment to choosing viewpoints rather than interacting with the world itself. This means that CVR production arguably represents a new type of filmmaking.” … (Journal of Media Practice). The film maker now has the control of how the viewer will interpret the film … no longer through attachment with lived experience, but through psychological infiltration and interpretation.

Social Media ; Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, all allow us to create our own identities. If we don’t want to be seen as one person, we “construct” another identity .. We attach pseudonyms and “Gravitars” more in keeping of what we want others to see us as .. and perhaps as we want to see ourselves .. we have moved a little bit closer to the abyss of lost souls. We seek out the camouflage that hides our real person and from behind these ‘hides”, we take pot-shots at whatever riles and annoys our perceived notions of the world.

Also at play has been the falsifying of history in regards to Australian settlement .. a confected illusion replete with heroes and villains, the righteous civilisers and the barbaric natives .. in any land, any colonising situation … This illusion of reality in history is no better manipulated than the “ANZAC myth” … played upon the heart-strings of jingoism with the deft touch of a master propagandist … all that is needed is another Leni Riefenstahl to complete the picture. The national history has been one long lie that is now fast unravelling at the same pace (coincidentally?) as a false reality of CVR film (can it be called “film” anymore?) is becoming such an integral part of our everyday entertainment. The online streaming availability of these visual creations filter into our living rooms nearly every day, as do the online “games” and click-bait sensuality. Our eyes have become a direct link to our wallets … the cost of digital technology a necessity budgeted into household “outgoings”.

There is more than a danger of us walking wide awake into a fantasy world. I think we are already in it! We see many lash out on Twitter and other social media against these or that “harridans” and “whores” … ”pr#cks” and “a#seholes”, unrestrained by any form of decency and modesty … indeed, there are those of unbridled nature who go even further and call on past atrocities of the most repressive regimes, the likes of Joe Stalin and use them as examples for a “deserved treatment” for a favoured victim of their animosity … We have truly crossed into the fantastic when such dire reprisals become imaginatively possible!

I suspect a point has been reached where the social cost of realisation of witnessing ultra-violence on screen that has all the reality-like structures conjured up with CVR imagery, IS leading the first-world down a rabbit-hole to fantasy so much more dangerous than anything that original first-tripper; Alice ever went down .. :

“ In that direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw round, “lives a Hatter: and in that direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.”

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.

“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here.”




Essay..: The Joy Of Walking.

There’s a Whole World Out There! or:  The Joy Of Walking.

I now have no car. That statement in itself may require an explanation in these self-commuting times. But no … too tangled and tiresome a story, sufficient to state that the reason reaches back into the mists of time to when I once committed myself with a vow of : “I will”. And speaking of another thing that has ended, I feel I can state quite categorically ( as an observant walker) and declare it official that the daisy bush has replaced the geranium as the stalwart mainstay of verdant flowering flora in the suburban front garden! The long-lashed cheeky button flower of the daisy, has edged the precocious petals of the geranium off centre-stage. I suppose in this age of “go-get-‘em” attitude and “in-your-face” aggressiveness the battling geranium could hardly match the many blossomed, fast growing daisy-bush might .. is now right!

I notice these small things on my walks into the town where I live. Hybrid roses too have muscled-in on a place next to the footpath. all bright and starry-eyed like the budding stars they are, their many-hued blooms huge and alluring to the passer-by although I myself, religiously adhering to the adage : “Always take time to smell the flowers”, find little delight in discovering so scant a scent in such wonderful blossoms .. and I feel a little cheated, like false advertising that encourages false expectations , for surely, if there is any flower that looks delicious enough to kiss, it is the rose … and like any kiss, a fellah needs to take away with him an exotic, lingering scent of delight to caress and steel him against all the crassness of the outside world and … but I think I have made my disappointment plain …. the hybrid rose, without its scent is, to this man at least, as a woman without mystery!

It is Summer where I live and the fruit trees are bearing wonderfully! None more so than the cherry-plums along the railway track that I cut across on my way into town. For some reason these delicious trees are shunned by the public and much of the fruit is left to fall and rot on the ground. Bearing no such animosity to this sweet harvest, I make feast on their berries! … These, and plums galore accompany the walker on his journey and I make note the fruit of the nectarine tree leaning precariously over the corrugated iron fence of “Such and Such Ltd …. motor repairs” is deepening its crimson blush and fattening itself up for the pickings  not long now!

A Serbian I once worked with told me of the struggle against hunger in his youth after the 2nd WW, and how he made it his business to note when every fruit tree, every vine in every back-yard or lot in his village was ready to be  raided! such are the necessities of survival … In Australia where we take such things for granted, it is one more joy to be embraced on my walks.

Another thing I have noticed, although it has fallen out of fashion with the onset. of “Estate Housing” is the front fence The front fence is one of the last and lasting expressions of individuality in a world of shrinking imaginations.

In Australia, indeed, the world! … the front fence like certain hobbies, was open slather to any fetish of taste or tastelessness. I have seen them constructed of everything from shells to bits of ironmongery and even bones.. ‘TAKE THAT”! was the creed for some of the monstrosities separating the incumbent from the innocents in the outside world …. From bits of off-cut wood to animal bones and noduled limestone rocks! and what was the flower that inevitably graced these icons and filled the gaps in the masonry? … The geranium! Alas, it is gone now, as is that generation of front fence builders that, although predictable in all other mannerisms pertaining to suburban life, could be counted upon to equal or maliciously out do the neighbour in design or complexity the Bastille like structure of the front fence and gone also, is the geranium … alas, alas!

Windmills, simple in structure were a regular feature of front gardens, but these too have been replaced by more complex : “paddling duck” or “rowing men” and even by mass produced “cupid” bird-baths . Some of the more bombastic citizens plant spread-winged eagles gargoyled on top of gate-pillars which gaze threateningly down on the walker as he moves past. I remember seeing a young woman innocently walk past a live wedge-tailed eagle perched on a fence at eye level next to the footpath. Obviously a pet of the house there .. I was watching from a train at a station. As the woman drew abreast of the bird, she turned her head toward it (there is an impish spirit that provokes these actions!) . I presume she didn’t expect to see such a large creature a foot or so from her face, the sudden leap to the centre of the road was Olympian to say the least! and when her knees buckled under her, I thought she was going down for prayers on the bitumen! but no, she as swiftly regained her composure and with only a few deft pats of adjustments to her bobbed hair, promptly moved on …. against such nerves of steel, the male of the species has no chance …. though to this day I don’t know if it was the bird that screeched or the woman.

I keep a small box at home in which I place all the “treasures” gleaned from the roads when I walk. There are shiny (I prefer them to be shiny!) bolts and hose-clamps, a squash-ball, a mobile phone, spanners and other miscellaneous objects, some unidentifiable but interesting …. what few coins I find I spend.

The gutters and the shrubs are receptacles for all the detritus of mankind. Bits and pieces that fall off cars end up scarred and scraped into the kerbside gutters. Drink containers and waste paper end up stuffed, like bodies up chimneys in Poe’s : “The Murders in the Rue Morgue”  , into any nook or kicked under bushes. At nesting time any excess chicks forced or pushed out of nests end up little mounds of fluff on the footpath or flattened on the roads. I can’t help but feel pity for these helpless chicks. who don’t even get a start in life before it is brutally taken from them. But then, what animal in the wild ( even domestic) does not meet with a violent end? Though once, when a flock of starlings flew over me, I saw one fall, for no apparent reason, out of the flock almost to my feet,  dead as a doornail .. heart attack? old age? who knows, but it was only once that I saw that.

Walking can be very educational, peaceful and fulfilling. One’s thoughts fall into the rhythm of the step and rare is the worry or problem that cannot be resolved in oneself in the space of a good long walk. The relaxing contrasts of sunlight and shade, water sprinkler and breeze, the chlorophyll’d odour of fresh-cut lawn near the lake, the idle paddling of the ducks mixed with the joyful cries of children at play lend a certain visceral ambience to the atmosphere of the clinging world around us that we call life!

Ah! The Joy of walking..