“The House”.

Anyone familiar with that 1998 film.: “The Truman Show” will not be too amazed at what I am about to reveal. I will warm those unfamiliar with the aforementioned film up a tad and bring them up to speed on my revelation.

“ He doesn’t know it, but everything in Truman Burbank’s (Jim Carrey) life is part of a massive TV set. Executive producer Christof (Ed Harris) orchestrates “The Truman Show,” a live broadcast of Truman’s every move captured by hidden cameras. Cristof tries to control Truman’s mind, even removing his true love, Sylvia (Natascha McElhone), from the show and replacing her with Meryl (Laura Linney). As Truman gradually discovers the truth, however, he must decide whether to act on it.”  (Wikipedia: The Truman Show).

Of course, that was just a film…and with The House, being of course a reference to The Houses of Parliament, we are dealing with a different kettle of fish…these “fish” in the Parliament operate into and out of our everyday lives, making laws and decisions that affect our well-being and survival….and that being so, have you ever wondered, as I have why some obvious mis-demeanours and obvious fraudulent criminal activities by the members of The House are seldom punished or just receive a “slap on the wrist” misdemeanour warning at worst and THEN proceed to be voted back into The House at the next election with an increased majority!

Well, thanks to a close acquaintance with an accountant from an old family business of accountants, I have recently been informed that there is some rather strange goings on involving the major parties and the running of our Parliament.

It all started before a Federal election some years ago with this accountant being given the task of sorting out and separating the investments and incoming moneys and arranging the accounts of a sitting member of Parliament so as to make his position legally accommodating to the rules and requirements for sitting members of The House.

Of course, coming from an old and trusted establishment of solicitors and accountants, the accountant was given complete access to the Members financial details..but the thing that had changed from the old days of written ledgers and account books, was the access to the internet and the capability to cross-check and deep-delve into domestic and overseas accounts..to “follow the money” so to speak..and the accountant in question, being the youngest member of that “old Family”, was super-savvy at digging and delving into domestic and…most particularly..overseas accounts…as a matter of fact, he delighted in noseying in and out of tax-havens to see just who was here or there and where the money went in such cases…he sometimes would, on a “quiet day” peruse a client’s accounts as an amusement..chasing their connections to this or that company or corporation through a labyrinth of data and discombobulation.

It was on a meander through the incoming moneys of the contracting Member of The House, that the accountant stumbled upon a most intriguing list..a list of sources of incoming payments into various accounts held by the Member of The House…it all seemed innocence enough until it came to the Parliamentary salary he received…for there, entered against the regular amount was a name of a corporation familiar to the young accountant of a Company registered in the Seychelle Islands as a tax haven foundation.

At first, thinking that it was just a diversion of funds through another established account, he dug deeper into the source of the Seychelles deposit amount and found that it had come from another tax-haven account registered to a different corporation in another area of the world. This threw some suspicious doubt upon the legitimacy of the moneys and he decided he would consult with the head clerk of accounts,  one : Ambrose Symonds and see if he could enlighten the situation…but even there, he met with cautious advice…

“I would suggest you leave off with the delving INTO sources and concentrate more on the shelving OF such accounts…” and Ambrose adjusted his spectacles on his nose whilst looking down at the young man with a most imposing stare.

Of course, this was grist for the young investigator’s mill and he made it his “outside work hours” hobby to pursue the matter further..and this is where I came in.

The young accountant..we’ll call him “Dexter” for convenience..and I played tennis in the same competition…in the same club and occasionally teamed up as a unbeatable doubles combination!..After the day’s competition, the common practice was to adjourn to the clubrooms for libations and chatter…This day, Dexter was a bit more subdued…it took several mixed drinks to ease the reason out of him..and I could feel it was a weight lifted to share his doubts.

He told me the above mentioned details about the separation of accounts and the restructuring of the members stocks, shares and holdings…a moment of absolute, crushing boredom to one of the physical work-world like myself..and then he paused, gazed about suspiciously and lowering his eyes and his voice spoke in a conspiratory tone..

“The thing that threw me” Dexter leaned into me “was that when I checked the salary accounts of several other parliament members we have on our books, they were also paid from the same account.”

“Well, perhaps the party has a deal with that company to take the moneys from the Parliamentary salaries office or wherever they are paid from and distribute it via that account accordingly”….I casually remarked..

Dexter again looked about in a suspicious manner and replied..:

“The accounts we hold are from different political parties…BOTH major parties!”..he almost hissed.

“Hang on,” I said..trying to get a hold on the situation..”You’re telling me that those members salaries of the major parties are paid into the one account in this tax-haven and the moneys then go from there to your clients?”

“YES!” Dexter made a grimaced face.

“Well..I don’t know..perhaps they ALL have a deal with this company because they offer the best options…I don’t know..a bit above my pay-level I’m afraid..” and I gave a chuckle.

“Yes..that would be all well and good, except I did some more digging…I have contacts through the company with a level of accountants in Treasury and while I did not speak or inquire directly about the said accounts, I could circumnavigate around the issue to find out some more information of direct payments to certain “efficiencies”….that’s what they call them..”efficiencies”..and it has led me to a conclusion that even YOU would find extreme and outlandish!”

“Shoot…” I said….Dexter winced at my slang term.

“Well, to cut a long story-trail of “following the money” short, what if I told you that there really isn’t any such a thing as a political party in this “government”…” Dexter framed his last word with fingers making inverted commas…..I stared at him with a smile for a moment then laughed softly..

‘You’re joking….aren’t you?…..you’re having me on…” and I laughed a bit louder…”C’mon, Dexter..we’ve only had a couple of drinks…you losing it this early?”…

“I wish I was…” Dexter swilled the drink in the glass “Perhaps I am losing it…but it gets worse..”….and here his face went a tad paler and he really did lean into me to whisper…

“What if I told you that there really isn’t even a Parliament…well not in the sense we understand it…oh it is there in front of our eyes on the Floor of The House, for sure…they go about their business, passing bills and laws etc..and perhaps the greater majority of those members are unaware of what or who they are really serving as they do go about their working lives…”…and he downed the remainder of his drink.

“Hang on..hang on..” I paused him..” so you’re saying that you have found a link between the moneys that are paid these members of The House from Treasury to some…some vague entity slash corporation that pays..or perhaps HIRES these members…..UNKNOWN TO EVEN THEMSELVES….who go to work every day in an “constructed establishment” we know as the “Houses of Parliament?”…I sat back in my chair and blinked.

“Yes…I am saying exactly that!..” Dexter continued..” and this is what I have surmised from the results of my digging far and wide..from this country to the other side of the world…thanks to the internet and my hacking skills..I will tell you this..:” and Dexter started to count off on his fingers the points he made…

“One.. While the government bureaucracy exists and does its various tasks, the paying out of the Members of The House salaries in total does not go into those individual members personal accounts before passing through a complex filter of overseas corporate accounts and various tax-haven accounts.

Two.. These corporate accounts then distribute the monies into their allocated parts into the private member’s bank accounts without them being aware of exactly where from or who is paying them.

Three.. The major parties moneys paid from treasury are held in the one corporate entity in an account in the Seychelles in a company name of SD&E Corporation…a shortening of “Social Distribution and Equity Corporation”.

Four.. These same major parties are held as ownership trade-marks by that corporation and the rights to operate under those trademarks are restricted to various franchises…call them factions…operating within the party.

Five.. The performances we see in The House are an orchestration derived from the confected conflicts of various opposing agenda “written” into a kind of script of which the outcome is already settled, to give credence to the farce that we call a Two Party Democratic System of Governance.”

And Dexter finished with a large inhale and exhale of breath like it was a throwing off of a great weight from his shoulders. I have to admit that I just sat there open mouthed at the audacity of even the notion of such a vast and complex operation…after a long silence I finally had my mind around the notion to speak.

‘So…there are no major political parties…just some kind of franchisees…and the members of those parties are just patsies going to work not knowing that they are doing the work of a corporation and not their nation…and then in effect, there really isn’t any REAL Parliament, just a …..a…performance..like on a stage and everyone there are players in a super script…a theatrical illusion?”…I finished.

“To which  I assert that “The Crown”, has outsourced the Australian Parliament to an overseas corporation-slash-corporations..” Dexter added.

“Yes, but at each new government those elected members are …. “

“Are sworn in by the Governor General…the CEO of ‘Australia Inc.’ ”…Dexter finished my sentence.

He then continued…:

“Have you not wondered why there can be so much outrage at certain decisions made in The House, and nothing can change or will change it?…How some members seem to hold an invulnerable position in their electorate and can do almost as they please…; act immorally, steal land, funds and collude to corrupt laws and bills yet have no charges laid against them?…How the main-stream media SEEM to “expose” so many outrages that then come to nothing?…that’s because it is all NOTHING!…things seem to be happening in this or that location…but where exactly are these places..do you know where they are…I don’t know anybody from some of these places they talk about on the news..I suspect only a handful of real people DO!..and then they are “nobodys” that no-one takes any notice of after an initial “expose” of a kind..and then it all settles down to “business as usual”…elections are run, polls are constructed, bookies consulted and votes counted…but when has there ever been an unsurprising outcome or a surprising one at that, that has been put under a microscope to see just how or why it happened?…..never…life just goes on…because we ALL are now so disconnected from each other, from the world around us, our “friendships” little more than temporary acquaintances that we meet on the internet…so that we hardly know even our closest friends… many of us are little more than some “Gravitar” on a social media feed“

THAT was the gist of my conversation with Dexter that afternoon in the clubrooms of the “Barossa Valley Tennis and Netball Club”…and it ended about that moment as we were then joined by the club secretary very curious why our heads were so close together in deep conspiracy….we laughed at the idea…

It was the next Thursday that I rang Dexter to confirm our partnership for the weekend tennis…his phone was answered by a sparkling young lass, who had to disappoint me in regards to Dexter and the tennis because he had left earlier Monday that week to go for a holiday to Argentina with his girlfriend….

‘Oh…right..” I replied to the lass..”Oh well, it’s back to playing singles for me then…another losing weekend, eh?”..and we laughed at my self-disparaging humour…but you see..I know for a fact that Dexter is still “in the closet” with his sexuality and his family and he has no “girlfriend”.

From the Hand to the Mind.

 

Dalla mano alla mente…(From the hand to the mind).

The trade-guild artists.

Manifesto..

Having come to the conclusion that middle-class politics cannot, through it’s servile impotency in honouring capital gain over social necessity, or will not, through its abandoment of the poor, the vulnerable and the under-educated in first preference for its own priorities, improve the ambitions of many people seeking a fairer and more equal distribution of social equality and comforts of mind in our nation…I have decided to try to use my interest in artistic expression to bring social change so desperately needed to the people and the streets of our nation..I am going to inaugurate a collective of retired tradespeople who have in their retirement applied themselves to interpret their physical working lives with their artistic endeavours…I call this collective : “The Trade-Guild Artists”…its motto (in Italian…[I am Italian]): “Dalla mano alla mente”.

Our direction is one from lived experience in working in our respective trade professions for a living and from such a background moving to interpret those lived moments when more than a simple shout or expletive could explain our frustrations or bewieldment of a given incident or drama..We, of the trades, have been on the “front-line” of construction, caring, delivery of services and needs for millenia. Time we take our rightful place to give better interpretation of those seen things that need a skilled hand to deliver to a keen mind the intricacies of movement and colour of life to a blank page or canvas.

Having myself been a long-time admirer of the “social realism” style of painted/sculptured/written art, in a Diego Rivera or Albert Camus style..and others, I envisage a movement intent on delivering strong, determined and resolute impressions and characters to the eyes, ears and minds of those absorbing our intentions..whether those characters be imperfect of body, impure of thought or unchaste of character, they will be honest of attitude and intention…there will be little mistake in that.

 

Dare one speak words of Anguish,

Under such a tempered sky,

Rather heed to those that break,

Tho’ speak not…but sigh.

 

A Work of Art…or…The Art of work?

The motivation for this piece came from four flat-box displays of ladies embroided cotton / lace handkerchiefs. I had purchased them some years before at a garage sale for the pitiful sum of fifty cents each box…..one from Nth. Ireland, two from Switzerland and the other from China. Looking at them in their tissued, flat boxes, with the delicate lace-edges folded into diamonds or squares, the brilliant white contrasted with the small embraided flowers and sundry delicate patterns, I thought them too, too beautiful to be used other than as a display…So I made four frames and placed those “works of art” behind glass to be admired rather than soiled. I could imagine the girls or women hard-at-work, worrying over those pieces of cloth…..Pieces of work became pieces of art…hence the title of this article!

I am an artisan(tradesman)…my father was an artisan (stone-mason)..the people who made those hankies were artisans, a multitude of people producing, constructing, moulding, knitting and on and on are artisans…coming from the French ; “without art”.

Getting back to my father ; the stone-mason…in his employment around Adelaide he built many stone walls and such. He built that curving weather wall along the Glenelg foreshore..by the sideshows..(it is gone now ). He told me years later that if I was to go to one particular place along that wall, I could see, shaped within the stone work, a map of Italy, with all the provinces in varying shades of stone, built cunningly into the wall!….indeed ; a cunning stunt!…Artisan becomes artist!

So perhaps it could be proposed : Who stationed “artists” and “artisans” in their prospective environs? What are the boundaries of these environs..i.e.. when does artisan become artist and vice-versa? Can art be interpreted as the “one-off” piece of deliberate intent? If an artisan uses his craft skills to produce a “one-off” article for decoration or beauty, does that one piece become a work of art? Likewise, if the artist takes a “one-off” work and by reproductive prints, mass-produces many images, does that work then become craft?

Are there then ANY boundaries to “art”?…does art exist in itself? Or is it an adjunct to physical existence…and not a separate construction of the imagination?…..and if it was, then surely every wicked creation, every insidious act could also be construed as a “work of art” alongside sublime desire!..for wasn’t it Alexander the Great who volunteered that “war, is the greatest art”?

Perhaps the boundry between Art and the Artisan can be judged as ; Artisan being a measure of one’s craft skills, whereas art ; the measured, skillfull baring of one’s soul!…..while there is chance of ridicule in the former, there is every chance of absolute condemnation in the latter….How deeply we choose to express one or the other is perhaps a judgement on one’s personal strength of character.

Can everybody be an artist..or is there art for everybody?….I’m certain the answer is ; yes, to both…although there may not be a market for everybodys “art”! There is a risk of mockery in too much display and, I’m sure many of us are aware that the road between flattery and mockery is VERY short and VERY straight!  But here again, the depth of soul-baring would, I’m sure , lift that sublime piece towering above the dross, such is the power of sincerity and in the end, there being so many avenues of material, visual or musical expression these days, the Andy Warhol claim of 15 minutes of fame may just be around the corner for all of us……The big question is  : Would you want it ?

 

 

“Preference Farming” for electoral success!

Ok..here’s what I deduce happened..: The polls are going ratshit for the LNP..they are in the proverbial..what to do?…their spin-doctor lobbyists suggest a consultation with the now defunct “Cambridge Analytica” to crunch the numbers needed to get the LNP over the line in the coming election..They work out that the mood of the voters is toward small parties/indies to get a better percentage of the voting…BUT..where will their preferences go?..Therein lies the solution.

They need to get heaps of preferences in many seats from a reliable source…enter PHON and Palmer…they are the only ones who can cover so much ground..But PHON are arse-breakingly inept, unreliable and broke…but they are solid on-side..They are keen for a deal..so they are told; ok, but get some money or get stuffed!…Exit Ashby and co. to the NRA. Where they confess that if they had the dosh, they could alter the democratic outcome in the elections..or wtte..

Palmer, on the other hand, is “reliable old-school Nat’ Party swindle”…and he has his assets frozen in 2018 over the shennannigans of he, his relative and his companie’s fiddling the books and wages of his employees etc…he’s under the pump both legally and financially..AND he has that handy, dodgy old political party of his tucked away in the closet like an A. Jones deep, dark confession…He has the many bank accounts where money could be shifted to from..say; Parakeela, a certain “prospecting” group or India..if you get the drift!…whatever, he’s on board..he has no choice…and let’s admit it…those sort of blokes you meet down the front-bar of the local any time ..they got a mouth full of braggadocio, their hand always around a small-beer and the other hand in their trouser pocket fiddling with the last of their small change…but he’s not interested in getting back into Parliament…he doesn’t have to, they say…as amatter of fact, it’d be a failure if he DID get a seat , because that would mean the LNP would miss out on one!..No..he only has to follow instructions and enter a candidate, ANY SHONKY PERSON, in EVERY SEAT running and let the “back-room boys” run the show from there..all he is needed for is to give a sense..a very slim sense…(because the AEC is in the hands of another “Duntroon Poltroon” and can be guaranteed to ‘do its job”…of f#ck all)…of legitimacy to the scam…HE only has to do a couple of pressers when required and then he can go spend sometime in Fiji or wherever…yes!..of course..all “on The House”…AND as a bonus, he can keep the electoral refund money he gets for the percentage of votes he gathers and the Murdoch press will wash him as white as a Georgia/ American Belle O’ the South!……if he just keeps his big mouth shut!

Let the preference farming begin!

Incident on the Bulldog Run.

If you turn off the main ‘Halfway House Road” there about seven mile out of the town, there onto a dirt, bush track ; “The Bulldog Run” and go a few mile down that track, you’ll see away there off the side in the mallee scrub; Rhidoni’s old place…a small cottage built in that old pioneer style of four rooms with a lean-to on the back and the old “bucket ‘n’ chuck-it” dunny out the back yard.

The Hocking family had made this cottage their home…for the near future..a future fraught with the uncertainty of shifting fortune and work…Not that Dick Hocking was such a determined seeker of full-time permanent employment ..nor was his wife Alice that keen to become a part of any township community….herself having escaped from a trapped, middle-class life back in civil-war torn Ireland, but still retaining enough of that class’s snobbery to scorn small-town society.

No..the bush suited them just fine and so they sought out these cheap-rental, isolated cottages where scrutiny and regulation was never a problem.

So in consequence, Dick and Alice Hocking and their children stayed in many old pioneer huts out in the deep mallee back in the pre-war years..Because of their isolated positions, far from the nearest town, these huts and settler’s cottages could be rented much cheaper…and with them never being flush of funds at the best of times…

Such run-down old pioneers huts, part stone construct , part pug ‘n’ pine were the usual homes on such tracks as “The Sleeper Track”.. named after the cutting of railway sleepers..”The Seven Cross-roads” or as it is locally known ; “The Seven Sisters Junction”…or in the case I am about to tell of ..: “The Bulldog Run”..locally shortened to just “The Bulldog”..not named solely on account of that particular breed of dog, but because of the wilds of country there..as in ; “ That’s wild country out there..real bulldog country…”

It was at Rhidoni’s  old place..out in the sticks there just a bit off from The Bulldog…The Hockings lived there a while with three of their children..there were five kids, but the eldest girl had gone to work on one of the river stations as a servant girl and the oldest boy had got work at the local post office in the town of Sedan and was away for most weekends..that left the two early teenage girls and the youngest boy who was around four or five years old.

The parents went to town one day, taking the youngest boy with them to get supplies, leaving the two girls home with the company of a local youth named Murray also in his late teens , who was courting after the elder girl : Maggie..he was safe..But there were some dodgy characters who made their way to the Murray Mallee to escape the law in the city and there was no better place to “disappear” than in the wilds of the mallee in those days..Such a desperate character came upon the cottage there with the three teenagers alone.

The rough looking man watched the youths play a while, reassuring himself there was no adult about..He then calmly approached them in the front yard.

“Hello, children” he said, his gaze roaming cautiously about ” Is mum or dad around?” He asked in an innocuous tone as if he knew the parents…foolishly,  Rose, the younger of the three replied that “No..they had gone to the town to get supplies and won’t be back for a while”…

The man nodded, tipped his hat and melted into the bush..

But the teenagers became suspicious of his motives when they spotted him lurking about just out a ways in the scrub..They decided it was better if they went inside when they saw him sneaking up closer to the house..

It was fortunate they did, for no sooner than they had gone inside than they heard him cautiously try the door handle..the three children silently stared in fear as the handle of the door moved up and down as he tried to get in…Now this is when things got a tad worse!..Rose had a little dog..a poodle she was most fond of and it had been forgotten when they retreated into the house..Rose became distressed when she noticed the dog’s absence and with a shriek, quickly ducked out the back door to retrieve the poodle, much to the panicked cries of Maggie and her boyfriend Murray..

“NO!..Rose..come back!” But it was too late..they heard her call for the dog and they could hear the man leave the front door and scurry toward the voice of Rose..They heard him cry ;

“YOU…stay there!…”

Murray opened the front door and called for Rose..

“IN HERE Rose, the front door!” and she suddenly appeared, little dog in arms and scurried through the front door with the rough man not half a dozen strides behind her!…Murray slammed the door in his face and quickly secured it..the man put his shoulder to the door and crashed it several times, but fortunately it was built of strong, stout rough-cut timber so it stood firm against his thrusts…He then went to get the axe there at the wood heap and proceeded to hack at the door…The children were terrified..

Here, the youth ; Murray, did the smartest thing he would do in what turned out to be an otherwise mundane life..He went as close to the front door as to be heard by the man outside and in a “just too loud” whisper, said :

“Maggie…go get your dad’s rifle and I’ll shoot the bugger through the door!”…

All went silent, the axe went still and the man seemed to think for a moment and then abandoned his intended deed and slunk away quickly into the bush…Of course, there was no rifle, it was just a clever bluff..and it worked..The police who later came and searched for the man found him and reported to the parents that he was a wanted rapist from the city..

Lucky children indeed..

 

 

Rupert the Bastard!

The problem I see with the toleration of the person in question in this article is the perception that he is a worthy political / social / economic commentator. WHY? … why is this person considered such … why is he courted as he himself courts leaders of state and industry? …. why is his opinion of any credit? … He was a spoilt brat as a child, he inherited a media empire of which he contributed nothing to it’s creation until he inherited it from his family …

In my own state, where he operated a paper, he was nothing but a vile, vicious and vindictive peddler of innuendo and vitriol … His attacks upon Don Dunstan and his wife, Adele Kohl are legendary for their spiteful vileness … Many who post here are familiar with such treachery from this person. He owns a huge media corporation, you say … and that allows him an insight into the peccadilloes of the human condition … so what? … SO WHAT!!? … any brothel owner with half a dozen operations under his control would, I dare say , have as much if not more “insight” into the weird and wonderful peccadilloes of the human condition.

This person is not worthy of the “type-face” given to his opinion … I ask : Is his political opinion as savvy as a Noam Chomsky? … is his economic opinion as savvy as a Picketty? …. are his social policy opinions as respected as the parents of the girl whose phone he encouraged to be hacked? …. NO! to all three … yet he gets quoted, he gets air-time … he gets to “influence” certain national leaders .. he gets tolerated and yet this person promoted, colluded and lauded the military invasion of places where crimes against humanity have been horribly committed … he is not an innocent bystander in those things .. he is a player!

Here’s a challenge … promote a campaign to have this person brought before The Hague international criminal courts … Promote a campaign to have him charged for the complicit and deliberate involvement in those wars that brought so much death and destruction to so many men, women and children … there are his own words to condemn him … there are a multitude of gloating articles from his worthless creatures to implicate him …!

Promote the campaign, seize the moment and let us be rid of this meddlesome sleaze!

Every now and then, in the annals of civilization, there appears amongst the human community, a creature, a person so unbecoming to the spirit of humanity, that history winces a tearful eye at it’s mention … He appears as an indelible blot, as a stain of indecency to the human condition that one has to wonder on the genetics of it’s creation … for surely, history will say .. : “Here is one from the loins of Lucifer himself!” …

We have such a one amongst us in the person of the above article. If one was to trawl through the depths of depravity of the Roman Empire under the reign of Tiberius or even Caligula, one would recognize the imprint of such a person with a level of cruelty equal to Sejanus .. or Caligula himself! .. Show his hand and you see the claw of Moloch … show his mouth and you hear the howl of hades … show his eyes and you see a depth of an abyss so black and so deep that it will swallow the cries of a million betrayed souls! … this is not a letter of hatred of a human, but rather a curse of evil personified!

When I saw at the Leveson inquiry, the abandonment of his loyal troops in an effort to save his own worthless hide .. and heard him utter those words, so recognizable as worthy of contrition in an honourable man, yet fell like a seasoned liar’s spittle from his lips .. : “This has been the most humble day of my life” … truly … truly … is there not one person reading this who did not retch inside at the gross effrontery … the vile indecency to apply to fellow humanity for the forgiveness and sympathy that he has so many times, in so many situations in as many ways as there are multiplications of a host of numbers … denied to even innocent children?

There is no place on this earth for such pomposity … no safe harbour for such self-promoted buffoonery … no confessional for so many cruelties …… time will take him, the creatures and bacteria of the earth will absorb him … but human history will never forgive him or his family name and his “humbleness” will NEVER absolve him.