Kooralbyn Ugly; dreadful, dry and forgettable, but morning walks are a different story.

April 18, 2014

 

Morning Walk.
Lifting fog, morning walk, a spectre of sorts.

Bora Ring 2.
Judith Wright Bora Ring. There seems to be a well defined, foot-beaten circle visible in this pic.

When I came across this spot the overwhelming feeling was that of another people had left momentarily and would be back at any time to resume the ceremony. Bora Ring where post initiation ceremonies were celebrated. On prohibited ground, not by aboriginal lore but by its failed resort owners who now post guards obliging walkers to ‘enjoy’ roadside carbon-monoxide.

Fog over equestrian track.
Morning at equestrian track. Kooralbyn, a failed, meant to be up-market, leisure resort 28 kilometres south-west of Beaudesert, Queensland.

Steward's box, Kooralbyn equestrian events.
Two views of equestrian stewards pillbox, copping it tough.

The back of neglected steward box.

Kooralbyn Tennis Club.
Once were Tennis Club rooms.

Grandstand.
This relocatable/mobile stand fascinated me simply because it had been forlornly abandoned facing a metal truck that had been similarly left and forgotten. Grand dreams unfulfilled.

Wider shot, seating.
Wide shot of mobile seating.

Secluded,peaceful.
Secluded, serene.

ScannedImage-5
Quiet Spot, Kooralbyn. Newly flowered black-boy tree (Xanthorrhoea) impressed me.

The links just visible from old timber track.
From the long disused timber track where the elements have eroded a washout to the depth of two metres.

Bottle-brush.
Bottle-brush and Wattle, from morning walk of course.

From the timber track.

Fireweed is prominent.
Fireweed has a deleterious effect on animals. Native animals instinctively avoid exotics.

Unperturbed locals.
Passers-by don’t create much interest.

Who are I?.. “Pleese journos, lern me to rite, I reely want yore recognition. No one loves me, I might be homophoniac.”

April 17, 2014

 

NB. There are two links in the heading.

 
Six or so months ago, mainstream journalism picked-up a story about a female age pensioner who was unable to meet an electricity account and so had her power cut. Such is the way with lazy “giggle journalism” that most weeping hearts blamed any entity, from the Federal Labor Government who had greatly enhanced pension entitlements, to the weather for her predicament. Few laid the blame where it rightly belonged, squarely in her lap. Such was the ruckus, Evita, it seemed the entire country cried for her.

The issue was manna for the do-gooder know-alls who regard themselves better qualified than the participants and whose word is final and absolute. I would like to think my oldie status had me ideally placed to make an informed comment but when I did so, was rewarded by a serve of ill-manners from a Twitter intellectual, an oxymoron.

Briefly, I expressed wonderment at the woman’s predicament and published numbers showing how after rent was met, I had about $4000 a quarter (six pay periods) to live on from which I had to spare $150 for an electricity account. Figures have been up-dated. A furore ensued with a tortured no-hoper who grasps at every chance to polish his delusional ‘great guy’ image leading the fray.

Would like to think I was coming from the Devil’s Advocate angle, but let’s face it, I believe the stupidity of dummies should be rammed home to them whenever they offend the senses of decent people.

He began:

… DISCONNECTING ELECTRICITY TO THE ELDERLY SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES:

(From)@lesjohnsles
(To) TBadrick

… You are NLP/News.com easily manipulated putty. $2 day usage X 120=$240; net pen. after rent $3600. Been bludgers entire lives.
—–
(From) TBadrick

(To) @lesjohnsles …What does your mumbo jumbo hav 2 do with the price of eggs? U mean every old person caught up in poverty rut were bludgers? BS!
—–
(From) TBadrick

(To) @lesjohnsles … Just because UR a penny pinching hermit pauper doesn’t give u a right Les to sterotype pensioners re: power prices
…..
(From)Les Johns ‏@LesJohnsLes

(To) ‏@TBadrick
… When you become an adult, cosy up to your DLP pals and insist they introduce legislation acknowledging your genius. Sweet dreams.
—–
(From) ‏@TBadrick
(To)@lesjohnsles… Well at least i’m not a redneck u nasty old geezer, i know old people who worked hard their whole life who are really battling.

(From)Badrick

(To) lesjohnsles …Is that the best you can do Les? For the record i have no affiliation with DLP, i’m just fair & give them a hearing. UR a goose
—–
Has no idea about addressing women.

(From) Badrick

…It’s such a shame that the Sydney & Melbourne socialite chicks as i call them proved to be too snappy & unpredictable to have on my twitter

(from) Badrick

…Happy birthday @laurawarwick, hope you have a really fab year babe.

—–
This Tweeter has an unsettling effect on women (chicks to him)who he repels by the shed-load.

(From) @TBadrick

… I know of some lovely women of substance who cant have a baby and who have tried and failed with #IVF, but who wont accept fate and move on.

(From) @TBadrick

… @Poco_Pene is an abusive troll, @Twitter wont enforce own guidelines and permanently suspend him, just BLOCK okay.

(From) TBadrick
(To)…AmandaRobo?fref=ts … For any guy in Brisbane who knows how to handle a rattlesnake might can handle this chick LOL. You have been warned.

——-

(From) TBadrick

… thanks for RT, like you I am abhorred by the senseless logging

(From) TBadrick

… accountable for CSG desicration of #Pilliga forest.

… do you intend to create laws to protect this forest sanctuary from obliveration?

… What do you think of this article @joehockey? It eludes to u making a storm in a teacup…

… be done must be done @theqldpremier to ensure this water feature isn’t desicrated.

—–
(From) Badrick
(To)@lesjohnsles

… Who the hell does @LesJohnsLes think he is? Lord Muck? His Most Holier Than Thou? I think FWIT Mc. Talk Through My Arse is a better name Les
—–
(From) Badrick
(To) @lesjohnsles
… Go away Les you bitter, twisted old fool, i have never attacked you about anything, obviously you are jealous of me you twit.
—-
(From) Badrick
(To) Anon …Hi GMOFreeJan, just wondering why you unfollowed me, I am very anti-#GMO and anti-#TPP, nonsensical to cut out people like me

——–

@thebirdman1010 is an uneducated youthful blockhead trying to be adult by sending trojans to Tweeters who voice their opposition to @LiberalAust. He seems to work in tandem with @JCreightonBoonah who makes identical grammatical errors, and I suspect, is the same trojan source.

——–

Mark Harrison ‏@boffincentral 28 Oct

… If you’re going to be a crook, where a suit…

—–
@LesJohnsLes As i am a profound thinker Les that’s why i keep trying with you but it appears to be a waste of my time

roy harvey ‏@barnbrack
waiting with excitement to see your next masterpiece of word structure LES Bet your delving into the old OXFORD dictionary l

Comment from Yours Truly:

You’ve made ‘your’ a possessive adj. when meant 2B contracted to you’re (you are)Using apostrophe here ties in w/ phonetics.

—–

The under Twitter comment comes from a chap who means well, and while hundreds of Twitter blockheads need public ridicule, I don’t intend to name this Tweeter.

… Wondering why Libs want debt sealing raised..

Sealing the debt is much like reigning it in, I suppose, but the sealant might give way. I would stick with ceiling.

—–

Julian Creighton ‏@JCBOONAH

Sage advice “allways drink up stream from the heard

(From)Julian Creighton ‏@JCBOONAH
Just got home from Boonah State high! Where ( my son) won a great sports award! Itself accomdemic awards in 2 weels

—–
Julian Creighton ‏@JCBOONAH

… Pups at Katherine N.T.any one won’t one?

He is offering a pup. I won’t take any.

——-

Chris Reynolds ‏@thebirdman1010 1h
Have serious misgivings about the promotion prospects of the Corporal that …said…FIRE!!!…Co,s no way was it an expensive officer.

What is “Co,s” all about? What is the sentence all about? If it’s meant to be in the vernacular or cutesy for ” because” it doesn’t cut the mustard. Had I been so inspired, I’d have gone ”‘cos or ’cause.”
—–—–
Ming the Merciless ‏@MGliksmanMDPhD 1h

Inquiry into #Manus Is http://www.smh.com.au/world/inquiry-into-manus-island-asylum-seekers-rights-20140316-hvjf6.html … via @smh The people who should be arrested are currently in Canberra. #auspol #refugees
——-

Professional opportunists like @ChrisMurphys appear to be agents-provocateurs, con-merchants, creating problems and then offering unctuous sweet talk to beleaguered working-class people.
.

Tinaroo Falls, often dry after 1963 construction of Barron Gorge Hydroelectric Power Station. Photo circa 1973

April 11, 2014

Tinaroo Falls circa 1974.
 

Barron Gorge Hydro.

My Cairns Friends…Bill Manning’s Pie-cart.

Theatre people; Hippies John Watson and Bryan Nason.

Cairns Little Theatre “Paint Your Wagon.

Full Programme, photos etc Paint Your Wagon.

Little Theatre 1964 in-house News-sheet. (squabbling)

Mime Adam Darius, Old Theatre Programmes.

When Pets And People Have Had Their Day.

Rosa In The Pot.

Pell And Abbott: “And thus I clothe my naked villainy and seem the saint when most I play the devil.”

March 24, 2014

 
Abbott (new text)

“I will not let the Holy one see corruption.”.

When Pets And People Have Had Their Day. Reprint.

March 8, 2014

Are pauper and cheap-rate cremations being conducted in pet-specific crematoria in South-East Queensland?

The death of a pet can have much the same emotional effect on the family as does the departure of one of their own and what to do with the remains, another heartfelt decision that needs serious thought. Burial is proportionately as expensive than cremation for pets as it is for humans, but whichever your choice, I implore you to stay with the animal to the last, until you feel the heat of the crematorium or until dirt is level with its surrounds in the case of a burial and can’t be easily disinterred with the body tipped out for the box to be reused, cream for the unscrupulous operator.

Part of his palaver is to reassure the client that cremations are performed individually but with power or fuel so prohibitively expensive, that is not financially feasible and as many animals as possible are crammed into the one operation. All care is taken of course, but stuff-ups occur and ashes sometimes have to be guessed. If the customer insists on staying for the hours-long procedure, the cunning operator will turn on the noisy force fan, without engaging the fuel, thus giving the illusion the procedure is under way and the bereaved reluctantly departs, believing he had covered every crooked avenue.

I’ve come across a treasure of photographs, of the shed surrounds of the crem, of the house, its yards, the crem book with its animal furnace layout, and a ‘mud map’ of the last year or so of burials in which the box had been saved for another day. If your pug, Oscar or standard poodle Claudia were afforded the luxury of a lawn burial in May/June of 2006, and didn’t attend the graveside service, then I’d suggest you organise a dig where you won’t find timber from the expensive coffin you paid for. On such times when mourners didn’t attend, the bodies were tipped into the hole for the boxes to have another day. It is a form of value-adding.

ScannedImage-4
 
Pet Crem.

Reserve Emergency Ashes.

Lewis Carroll, an extraordinary introduction to 1947 print of Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland.

January 28, 2014

Some years ago I was asked to get rid of a box of old books for a friend. Naturally I flipped through them before leaving at a charity shop and while not expecting the Biblical Scrolls from that mess of well-worn kid’s dictionaries and wreckage I was, nevertheless, rewarded by an intact, well preserved 1947 reprint of the famous ‘girl’s’ novel. It was a borrowed book from an inner Brisbane Library when the lending rate was threepence, the duration 14 days and the annual subscription was one Shilling.

The introduction, written some 50 years after Alice’s debut by a Herbert Strang, obviously a Carroll devotee was sincere and genuine and would have done his descendants proud. However, in today’s climate of “off with her head,” mentality on the least pretext, he would have been hounded to his death. I offer the page for your appraisal.

Lewis Carroll, intro extract.

Woolworths Beaudesert Speciality Shops Closing.

January 7, 2014

A recent survey of an undisclosed number of Yank tertiary students found 40% of them were unable to find their country on the world map. Am wondering how a similar test on an Australian group would rate with literary standards seeming to have little or no appeal, off the curricula it seems, and young persons comprehension powers having little or no official interest. A recent personal experience at bucolic Beaudesert’s Woolworth checkout deserves relating.

On Friday, January 3, I tended what I thought was $102 to pay a $82 bill, expecting, of course, $20 back. Instead, I was flabbergasted to receive a variety of notes and change amounting to $19.10. Turning to remonstrate a queue had grown so I moved on and checked the receipt outside.

If you care to check my receipt, you’ll find I had mistaken 10c for a dollar coin and had even asked if money was right. The checkout woman was not a child, but about 25 yo, so shouldn’t have feared intimidation by one 25 years or more her senior. Wondering if being an oldie would make me too spooky to point out my error. Am not into eating young people.

 

Woolworths receipt, Friday, 3 Jan, 2014

Browns Plains Discount Chemist. Only stereotyped oldes here, thank you.

December 31, 2013

I don’t have much faith in product reviews except perhaps when I’ve had a problem with an item and gone to that page to find if other purchasers are as dumb and luckless as the writer. The Google invitation to write a review became too hard to ignore and the letter under this intro is what I put together after a recent, age related incident by a female chemist.

“This chemist shop is part of the chain that recently advertised ‘reading glasses’ for sale at $21.95. While the identical product is available from most variety or $2 stores, I get my replacement specs from Carolyns, Jimboomba for $3.95. The word discount as part of the chain’s title is a misnomer at least, but of course, is meant to be taken in its accepted, deceptive sense. The product nevertheless, is effective, economical and easy to obtain and providing a corrective script is not necessary, the State is spared my optometry costs and I the inconvenience and the unnecessary feeding of a social parasite, the common optometrist.

Given my aversion to huge shopping centres, I’ve come to enjoy early morning drives to remote, rarely or never visited smaller centres, simply for the sake of change. These are usually the older, original shops that lost friends when the titans took over in the push for modernism. On Friday, December 13, about 70 Ks from home, found myself at Westpoint Shopping Centre, Browns Plains, where I did lotto and food shopping, looked about and spotted the decrepit facade of the above mentioned chemist shop. I presented my prepared note distinctly printed on 76 mm (three inches) sq memo pad which I am soon to commit to blog on http://lesjohns.wordpress.com

Pharmacist only products need the purchaser’s name and address, and being the possessor of both an irregular street and suburb names, have found a legible note alleviates the need for vocal repetition. The woman chemist appeared to be English and articulate but managed to turn Johns into Jonas. I needed another product that comes in 60 and 100 ml sizes and stated on the note I wanted the larger of the two. She then appeared with both sizes and asked what was my choice. Stupid and dumb! Asked what was vague about the note, said she was just making sure I knew what I had requested.

Here is my note. I have erased close-up info. Those lusting after me can be appeased by using the phone.

Browns Plains Chemist 2

Strains of the Beaudesert Woolworth deli woman when I asked for the skinned salmon. “Are you sure that’s what you want, it’s $2 a kilo more, you know”? That is dinkum and it happens frequently, and its the prior assumption of those twenty years or more our junior, that any action by oldies should be monitored because we must be operating in a vacuum. The chemist undergoes years of formidable examinations, the deli counter-jumper fewer yet both are quick to demean the oldie.”

Martyr Abbott, in awe of Saint Christopher: “You will not allow your holy one to see corruption” – Ps 15.

December 2, 2013

An Australian working-class demographic.

You know you are a bogan when…..

1. You let your twelve-year-old daughter smoke at the dinner table in front of her kids.
2. Bikers back down from your mum.
3. You think loading the dishwasher means getting your wife drunk.
4. You’ve been married 3 times and still have the same in-laws.
5. Jim Beam, Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker makes your list of “Most Admired People.”
6. You’ve ever had to scratch out your sister’s name in a message that begins “For a good time call….”
7. You’ve ever worn a dress that is strapless with a bra that isn’t.
8. Every day someone comes to your door mistakenly thinking you’re having a garage sale.
9. You have a working television that sits on top of a non-working television.
10. You think the Nutcracker is something you did off the diving tower.
11. Your dog was desexed by court order.
12. Your 13 year old daughter and her husband wanted belly button piercing, and you said no and got them matching tattoos instead.
13. You mow your lawn and find a car.
14. Your tyres are worth more than your car.

 

Thanks to thingsboganslike.com

1. Are you named after a car, motorbike or fashion label? eg. Mercedes, Harley, Chanel
2. Is there a bathtub, washing machine or couch in your backyard?
3. Have you ever mowed the lawn and found a car?
4. Do you think bin night is every night? (i.e. do you leave the bins out all week?)
5. Have you appeared as a neighbour from hell on A Current Affair?
6. Do you go outside to use the toilet?
7. Do you stand in your front garden and drink beer?
8. Have you spent more money doing up your car than what you paid for it?
9. Do you wear your bathrobe outside?
10. Are thongs your primary footwear?
11. Do you have a Southern Cross tattoo?
12. Have you ever brewed your own beer?
13.Do you smoke like a chimney?
14.Have you ever been arrested without a shirt on?
15.Do you parent in public (loudly)?
16.Were any of your children the result of a conjugal visit?
17.Are you a Collingwood supporter?
18.Have you ever been in a Lowes commercial?
19.Have you ever worn the Australian flag as a cape?
20.Do you like walking through train carriages?

 

Abbott (new text)

“And thus I clothe my naked villainy and seem the saint when most I play the devil”.

Thanks to goodreads.com for next bit of whimsy.

By Diana Gabaldon

“What’s that you’re doing, Sassenach?”

“Making out little Gizmo’s birth certificate–so far as I can,” I added.

“Gizmo?” he said doubtfully. “That will be a saint’s name?”

“I shouldn’t think so, though you never know, what with people named Pantaleon and Onuphrius. Or Ferreolus.”

“Ferreolus? I dinna think I ken that one.” He leaned back, hands linked over his knee.

“One of my favorites,” I told him, carefully filling in the birthdate and time of birth–even that was an estimate, poor thing. There were precisely two bits of unequivocal information on this birth certificate–the date and the name of the doctor who’s delivered him.

“Ferreolus,” I went on with some new enjoyment, “is the patron saint of sick poultry. Christian martyr. He was a Roman tribune and a secret Christian. Having been found out, he was chained up in the prison cesspool to await trial–I suppose the cells must have been full. Sounds rather daredevil; he slipped his chains and escaped through the sewer. They caught up with him, though, dragged him back and beheaded him.”

Jamie looked blank.

“What has that got to do wi’ chickens?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. Take it up with the Vatican,” I advised him.

“Mmphm. Aye, well, I’ve always been fond of Saint Guignole, myself.” I could see the glint in his eye, but couldn’t resist.

“And what’s he the patron of?”

“He’s involved against impotence.” The glint got stronger. “I saw a statue of him in Brest once; they did say it had been there for a thousand years. ‘Twas a miraculous statue–it had a cock like a gun muzzle, and–”

“A what?”

“Well, the size wasna the miraculous bit,” he said, waving me to silence. “Or not quite. The townsfolk say that for a thousand years, folk have whittled away bits of it as holy relics, and yet the cock is still as big as ever.” He grinned at me. “They do say that a man w’ a bit of St. Guignole in his pocket can last a night and a day without tiring.”

“Not with the same woman, I don’t imagine,” I said dryly. “It does rather make you wonder what he did to merit sainthood, though, doesn’t it?”

He laughed.

“Any man who’s had his prayer answered could tell yet that, Sassenach.”
(PP. 841-842)”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

GulfNews.com

“Lament For Maid Melbourne” by Dame Everage: From The Archives.

November 6, 2013

When good Adelaide boy, albeit Anglican, (Sir)Alex Downer ruled Australia’s diplomatic British roost.

 

Maid Melbourne

Pleas Sur, hears sum bazaar riteings of @tbadrick and other Twitter Homophoniacs.

October 31, 2013

Creighton is an assumed name used by the Liberal Party network to hassle pro-Labor Tweeters by sending them trojans. The cover is that of a pleasant bucolic family type who tills the soil as he listens to ABC Brisbane, a well-thought facade of a most devious and dangerous organization.

Another work of art by the mentally challenged Julian Creighton ‏@JCBOONAH, 21/11/2013:

Did Indonesian apologize for killing journalists in Timore??? Oh ,,,,murdering people doing their job must be OK
——-
Julian Creighton ‏@JCBOONAH

Sage advice “allways drink up stream from the heard”

——-

And yet another one from the challenged Julien:

Julian Creighton ‏@JCBOONAH

Pups at Katherine N.T.any one won’t one?

He is offering a pup. I won’t take any.

——–

Les Johns ‏@LesJohnsLes

@JCBOONAH “Dear Please don’t tweet. Me again!’!” * Ignorance can be cured, stupidity is forever* r u homophoniac?

Two comments in response to this observation by its protagonist.

@TBadrick 3 Dec

Without delay @rupertmurdoch should direct @dailytelegraph editor to keep @barryofarrell accountable for CSG desicration of #Pilliga forest.

Timothy Badrick ‏@TBadrick 31 Oct

Regarding #CSG development in #PilligaForest @barryofarrell do you intend to create laws to protect this forest sanctuary from obliveration?

Who the hell does @LesJohnsLes think he is? Lord Muck? His Most Holier Than Thou? I think FWIT Mc. Talk Through My Arse is a better name Les

Timothy Badrick ‏@TBadrick 31 Oct

@LesJohnsLes Go away Les you bitter, twisted old fool, i have never attacked you about anything, obviously you are jealous of me you twit.

——–
The under Twitter comment comes from a chap who means well, and while hundreds of Twitter blockheads need public ridicule, I don’t intend to expose this fellow.

Wondering why Libs want debt sealing raised.. http://www.abc.net.au/news/2013-11-28/transurban-and-the-business-council-talk-to-the/5123916 … #lateline biz .. sell all public assets ..

Sealing the debt is much like reigning it in, I suppose, but the sealant might give way. I would stick with ceiling.
——–

@thebirdman1010…So I take it,when it comes to #TheirABC your going to do a @BarryOFarrell = 3/5ths of SFA ?

————

Spiteful Claims.

Under ASIOs “emergency powers” oldies like the lady depicted in the CM story and recalcitrants like the writer are taken away without the public having any idea what spooks low i.q. Bureaucrats. Three years ago, an estimated 1,000 Australians were involuntarily taken into custody for “mental evaluation,” a fate which Queensland police tried on me after my blog comments irritated the Government of the day.
An item that worried sheet-sniffers at the time, “A Psychiatric Puppeteer Is Pulling Strings,” could interest the reader.

Today marks the end of the month and with only one poorly written piece to show, am sticking this shitty one in for company. Twitter is the dill’s Book of Revelations and via the medium, we advertise our stupidity.

Below is an introduction to grammatical errors from an unrecorded site to whose publishers I offer my appreciation for their insightful material.

For two weeks we highlighted phrases that are written from what people hear, sometimes with amusing results. A reader asked: “Aren’t all those [examples] mondegreens, like ‘very close veins’ when ‘varicose veins’ is meant?”

Yes and know.

Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary defines a mondegreen as “a word or phrase that results from a mishearing of something said or sung.” It’s best used when what was misheard is poetry, song, or other literary/artistic endeavor.

Some of the rest of such misheard phrases could be “eggcorns,” or “malaprops,” or “spoonerisms.” All four of these are incorrect renderings of something heard or spoken. The differences can be subtle, and no one highlights those differences better than Grammar Girl, Mignon Fogarty. She writes:

•Spoonerisms are what you get when a speaker mixes up sounds, making phrases such as better Nate than lever.
•Mondegreens are what you get when listeners mishear words; for example when people think the song lyrics are Sweet dreams are made of cheese instead of Sweet dreams are made of this.
•Eggcorns are what you get when people swap homophones in phrases, such as spelling hear, hear H-E-R-E instead of H-E-A-R.
•Malapropisms are what you get when someone substitutes a similar-sounding word for another, such as He’s the pineapple of politeness instead of He’s the pinnacle of politeness.

The oldest of these is “malaprop.” A 1775 play introduced a character, Mrs. Malaprop, who often mixed up words in long phrases (as in the “pinnacle/pineapple” example above). The first etymological use of “malaprop” was in 1814, The Oxford English Dictionary says, and it was “verbed” in 1959 (though you might be accused of misapropping a word if you malaprop it).

Mondegreen, as we’ve said, appears to have been coined in 1954, when a writer recounted her mishearing of an old ballad. But it didn’t make it into most dictionaries until much later.

The word “eggcorn” traces to 1844, according to the OED, when people miswrote “acorn.” But its etymological use goes only to 2003, when a discussion on the venerable Language Log suggested its use. An “eggcorn” phrase usually has some logic to support it, as in “right of passage” instead of “rite of passage.” “Eggcorn” still does not appear in Merriam-Webster, though it is in The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language.

A “spoonerism” is the only one of the four phenomena where new words can be formed, by transposing syllables of others, as in “I had tee many martoonis.” More often, the transposition results in real words used nonsensically or humorously (“troy bout scoop” instead of “boy scout troop”). Named for the Rev. William Archibald Spooner, who died in 1930 and was famously prone to tripping over his own tongue, “spoonerisms” can be found in colloquial use as far back as 1885, The OED says, though their first documented use was in 1900. Some “spoonerisms” have become words themselves, as “bass-ackwards” did in 1930 (though to be fair, that may have been a deliberate alteration to avoid having one’s mouth washed out with soap).

You’ll notice that in some of those, the speaker has misheard something, while in others, the speaker is misspeaking. But they can all be miswritten as well. When they are, let’s call them “malaspoondecorns.”
If you’re caught in any of these, you can always fall back on Yogi Berra, and claim “I really didn’t say everything I said.”

The absolute best spoonerism I was ever present at the creation of was when an Episcopal priest in a church in Elizabeth, N.J., took the opportunity to congratulate another congregation in the same diocese — in his exact words, I swear — “on the erection of their new lector.”

Some delightful balls-ups are coming up. Their quaint illiteracy replaces those gorgeous “don’t fuck with us” instructions that olden-days garbage-dump Nazis pasted whenever a rule was breached. The progeny of these slower people went on to greatness by holding stop/go roadwork signs or admitting their failure by becoming entrenched police spivs. Habitual Tweeters might recognize the frequent offenders. An earlier post that would appeal to literary masochists can be found on “Twitter Bird-brains.”

Mark Harrison ‏@boffincentral 28 Oct

@Qldaah If you’re going to be a crook, where a suit, not a bikie patch. @JarrodBleijie is winning
—–
Timothy Badrick ‏@TBadrick

@crikey_news @TheKouk What do you think of this article @joehockey? It eludes to u making a storm in a teacup over australia’s economic policy.
—–
Mark Harrison ‏@boffincentral
@Qldaah If you’re going to be a crook, where a suit, not a bikie patch. @JarrodBleijie is winning
—–
roy harvey ‏@barnbrack
waiting with excitement to see your next masterpiece of word structure LES Bet your delving into the old OXFORD dictionary l

Les Johns ‏@LesJohnsLes
You’ve made ‘your’ a possessive adj. when meant 2B contracted to you’re (you are)Using apostrophe here ties in w/ phonetics.

—–

1. @barnbrack TO MAKE CAMERAS THERE WORTH WHILE VOLUME IS THE ONLY THING POLITICIANS THINK ABOUT NOT LIVES AND POLICE MUST FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS
2. Les Johns ‏@LesJohnsLes 4 Apr
If you want to be seriously regarded as a sage, do your fans a favor and have an educated mentor vet your gems before despatch.
3. roy harvey ‏@barnbrack 4 Apr
Read your header John Seems that TWEETERS ARE MORE OR LESS DUNCES AND IDIOTS Yet you are replying to us what’s that make you
4. Les Johns ‏@LesJohnsLes 5 Apr
It makes me despair that an oracle can so contract a word into apostropic use and shout assumptions, has roy harveyno idea of his ignorance
roy harvey ‏@barnbrack 5 Apr@LesJohnsLes Les the exhuberance of your verbocity exceeds me overwhemingly

—–

Chris Reynolds ‏@thebirdman1010 1h
One would imagine the ADF investigation into what started the State Mine Fire,will conclude right after mankind has resettled on Mars.
For a place to be “resettled” it needed to have been earlier “settled.”
—–
Chris Reynolds ‏@thebirdman1010 1h
Have serious misgivings about the promotion prospects of the Corporal that …said…FIRE!!!…Co,s no way was it an expensive officer.

What is “Co,s” all about? If it’s meant to be in the vernacular or cutesy for ” because” it doesn’t cut the mustard. Had I been so inspired, I’d have gone,” ‘cos or ’cause.”
—–
Julian Creighton ‏@JCBOONAH
Just got home from Boonah State high! Where @Angus_beef_ ( my son) won a great sports award! Itself accomdemic awards in 2 weels

Chris Reynolds ‏@thebirdman1010
@PetefromHayNSWpete….not used to phone … Didn’t mean to but in:…cheers

Timothy Badrick ‏@TBadrick 13 Oct
Everything that can be done must be done @theqldpremier to ensure this water feature isn’t desicrated.
—–
The sheer overall semi-literate style of the next exchange by this Boonah-claimed site marks it as stage-managed. During the election campaign, I received a trojan from this tag, warned not to open, I returned it unopened and suffered no pc damage. Another pro-LNP twitter site, sounding like @birdman and using the same distorted punctuation, especially the semi-colon, delivered me a trojan which, once again I returned unopened and had no drama.

Julian Creighton ‏@JCBOONAH 10h

Good to see a Boonah boy,,being @ScottBuchholzMP. As whip In today’s Parliament sitting @612brisbane

Les Johns @LesJohnsLes

@JCBOONAH Illiteracy of this tag prob a rabid, Pyke-generated @LiberalAust setup who sent anti-Labor trojans during campaign.Don’t trust. – 11 Nov

Julian Creighton @JCBOONAH

@LesJohnsLes. Please don’t tweet. Me again!’!”

Hope this little collection of grammatical howlers amused you for a few minutes.

Wizard of Id’s thoughts of the toxic imposters known as Legislators.

October 2, 2013

Wizard of Id: Politicking Shysters; the system never changes.
 

During Victoria’s reign, Parliamentarian poked fellow M.P’s huge belly asking, “What are you going to call it”?
“If it’s a girl, I’ll call it Victoria after our gracious Queen,” came the retort,”but if it’s piss and wind which I suspect it is, I’ll call it after you.”

ooooOoooo

“The body consists of three parts – the brainium, the borax and
the abominable cavity. The brainium contains the brain, the
borax contains the heart and lungs, and the abominable cavity
contains the bowels, of which there are five – a, e, i, o and u.”

Schoolkid bloopers.

ooooOoooo

“Vacuum: A large, empty space where the pope lives.”

ooooOoooo

The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon is a form of synchronicity:

The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon occurs when a person, after having learned some (usually obscure) fact, word, phrase, or other item for the first time, encounters that item again, perhaps several times, shortly after having learned it.

Take the concept of Schadenfreude, which is a German word for “taking joy in the misfortune of others”. This concept is discussed periodically in mainstream media and other sources. If one does not know what it is, and has no intention of learning what it is, one may hear the term and easily forget about it, as it does not ‘fit’ into the person’s conceptions of reality. They may even rationalize that they heard a different word. However, once the person understands what the concept means, they will then notice it when the concept comes up in day-to-day life, whereas before, the person made few or no memories concerning the concept, as it was outside the realm of their understanding.

ooooOoooo

“But he that dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose.”

Anne Bronte, “The Tenant of Wildfeld Hall.”

ooooOoooo

“I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.”

Emily Bronte, “Wuthering Heights.”

ooooOoooo

“I would rather be happy than dignified.”

Charlotte Bronte, “Jane Eyre.

ooooOoooo

“Anything you’re good at contributes to happiness; I would never die for my beliefs.”

Bertrand Russell, Philosopher.

ooooOoooo

George Orwell said it.

Garbage Nazis and other Bastards I have known.

September 30, 2013

More Waste Containers

More Waste Containers (Photo credit: Stiwwe)

The ultimate result of shielding men from their own stupidity is to fill the world with fools.

I recently urged people to be gentle with those seemingly kind old chaps you see buzzing around garbage bins like blue-arsed flies and referred not to tramps looking for sustenance, but to the resident bin-carer.  After a couple of unpleasant incidents with the incumbent garbage nazi in the precinct I had lately moved into, my former advice to be gentle with these creatures changed to be very aware of them. Self-appointed old bin bastards (OBB) are invariably fussy despots, the obsessed roadwork controllers, if you like, of apartment precincts.

Tim is of scant build, 67 kilos would pull him up, 78 years of age and about 167 cm, snowy hair becoming the focus when trims are delayed. His mien was that of a comfortably off retiree, back-room boffin was my first thought, proving close to the mark. Polite but distant, inclined to the discourteous, a surprise to find this effete private gent was the garbage Nazi. We tentatively tested each other with unimportant talk but his rude and annoying trait of cutting me off mid-sentence quickly became a put-off. I attributed his ignorance to a dearth of cerebral companionship.

What seemed a valid complaint was his frustration at residents using all eight bins simultaneously when filling a couple at a time would be energy-conscious by halving the number of hydraulic lifts resulting in less diesel stench. The bins stay on the footpath and are pulled to the kerb on collection days. After lining them up one collection morning and feeling unwell, he afforded me great honor by asking me to pull them back from the kerb after clearing. I gladly did this, but created unrest and suspicion in him by turning four bins away from use and projecting the others 30 cm or so to make them automatic choice. I had spent a little time in advertising, and by applying thought, had inadvertently become a garbage Nazi’s enemy.

He’d had a few heart scares of late, the most recent a day before and was pensive about body movements, fearing each one his last. A few days later I was going into town for supplies and offered to do his shopping. His curious retort that he didn’t want my charity flummoxed me briefly as I hadn’t offered a loan. I had no idea he was in a financial rut and his false pride exposed what he really thought of me. To my great pain I ignored my trusty shit detector or prescience which was imploring me to be done with this churlish old man.

Feeling up to the 55 km round trip to town a few days later, he accepted my offer of a lift to attend a few chores. Working out a rough plan to facilitate our errands, he reacted “You’re just like Christa, afraid to walk a few feet.” An unrepentant control-freak, he asked of me when I suggested we load our supplies into the back seat,”What do you think the boots for?” Fumbling Les just couldn’t get it right, but my air-conditioning doesn’t reach the boot.

Christa is Tim’s Eurasian-looking comfort woman in her seventh decade who claims German heritage, won’t do messages for her friend but religiously calls on him pension fortnight, is later picked-up by her pimp or by an ill-mannered fiftyish, ignorant sow of a woman, possibly a fading escort tart. She would wait for her friend with the car idling swamping my ground-level flat with CO2. She wasn’t about to change her ways on impulse, so I explained what her carbon-monoxide was doing to the respiratory department.

” Well, if it worries you so much, you’ll just have to shut the door when I turn up.” “And you’d be a right royal first class cunt,” a voice within me felt obliged to respond. I denied her shock, horror and affront. Tim’s grandiosity to his ‘lady’ friend explained his rusted, unkempt, shit-box and the veracity of his comments of never having savings to draw on should an emergency arise.

He moved her, whatever that meant, into a nearby flat. Most likely, it meant paying the bond and two weeks rent and nothing more forth-came. She paid nil rent and was turfed out three months later. Her goods and chattels disappeared the same way they had arrived, by degree, in bits and pieces in the pimp’s car and in Tim’s clanking and disintegrating Celica, a house of cards assembled with bric-a-brac.

What he gets in return for the fiscal fawning is his concern of course, but these pampered, ignorant dregs do not return favours or help an ailing benefactor, and to suppose she would automatically respond in kind is so alien to her mind-thought as never having entered her ambit of thought. She is much like Maugham’s drab and conniving Mildred, an artless, rotten leech who returns her doddering backer little or nothing except heartache and despair, a fact he acknowledged when accepting my offer of help.

Despite his misplaced suspicion of me as a do-gooder who must be punished, I readily agreed to pay a couple of due accounts at the post office using cash drawn from his ATM account, the pin number of which he had written on spiral-bound stationary measuring 20 cm X 13 cm. Spiral-bound memo pads is stationary which I thought a relic of the past and to see it still in use interested me. A few days later, I found a hand-printed note in my letter-box sternly telling me to turn the TV down and it was written on the same size spiral-bound paper that the OBB had used on his note with the PIN number.

Tim’s flat is too far from mine to be irritated by electronic noises even on the quietest night, yet he passes my door to get to his car and once commented my tv was audible. Checked with adjacent tenant about this who assured me there was no justification to his bitching.

It Gets Couriouser And Couriouser.

Nearby lives an aging Botox ‘babe’ whose swollen ugly dial doesn’t auger well for her youth-wish. Called out to me on Wednesday late March, wanting a lift to town for Anglican communion, offering ‘petrol’ money. And that’s the last I’ve seen of the poodle ‘lady’ on a friendly, neighborly basis. Now, a special 58 km return trip would be cheap at $20, but I await still for any recompense and am avoided by her as though I am a carrier of the black death. Talking about bastards I have known….

An Australian working-class demographic.

You know you are a bogan when…..

1. You let your twelve-year-old daughter smoke at the dinner table in front of her kids.
2. Bikers back down from your mum.
3. You think loading the dishwasher means getting your wife drunk.
4. You’ve been married 3 times and still have the same in-laws.
5. Jim Beam, Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker makes your list of “Most Admired People.”
6. You’ve ever had to scratch out your sister’s name in a message that begins “For a good time call….”
7. You’ve ever worn a dress that is strapless with a bra that isn’t.
8. Every day someone comes to your door mistakenly thinking you’re having a garage sale.
9. You have a working television that sits on top of a non-working television.
10. You think the Nutcracker is something you did off the diving tower.
11. Your dog was desexed by court order.
12. Your 13 year old daughter and her husband wanted belly button piercing, and you said no and got them matching tattoos instead.
13. You mow your lawn and find a car.
14. Your tyres are worth more than your car.

Updated

Please hold this Jesus bus from latest PM. His eminence Abbott could get ideas for next campaign.

September 9, 2013

With nil but garbage on TV lately, had my attention diverted to tidying 40 yo archives. This gem is one of my finds.

Jesus bus close-up

A non-plagiarized letter of wisdom from an esteemed English blog about Australia.

September 4, 2013

Australian Coat of Arms (adopted 1912)

Australian Coat of Arms (adopted 1912) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Craig,
It might be of mild interest to you Craig, that the inspiration for some of the material on your expose of despicable old bastards responsible for the woes of the world ran as mid-day movie recently. In contemporary Australia and Britain, retaliating old ducks would certainly be admonished if not slotted for defending themselves and the young offenders, well compensated and kidded to. Could never understand the reverence given the dead cockatoo sketch, although later jokers brought it up to date. The Python team’s writing talent was pure visionary genius, hard to see being improved upon in today’s bureaucratic suppression of both mind and body.

The “special” powers awarded police during that nonsense in your town is so Orwellian-reminiscent as to be frightening. A similar but less spectacular two or three days of bullshit is scheduled for this town two years hence, puffing up the dignitaries of great importance. ASIO will be recruiting more guttersnipes to smell our sheets, classify the pubes and monitor citizens communications. Blogs authored by critical oldies like this one will disappear overnight with its scribe, and not a soul will give a rats arse or even know.

In Queensland, the State policeperson who visited me after I disclosed and spoke disparagingly of two fifth column agents, felt obliged to murmur “darkduck” when I explained I was quite comfortable with my own company. Those whose presence is not feared by authority may entertain such notions it seems, but for an ugly old up-himself blogger, quite unacceptable and intolerable.

The ultimate elimination of the oldie is the driving force behind your blog Craig and perhaps you would appreciate some of the stuff practiced in stealth by the Australian Government. My blog silence and later references to Gulag was inspired by the police visit and his promise of a “mental evaluation.” It is coercive, summary punishment for mentioning disparagingly their spook agencies. The victim, a retired gentleman, ergo troublesome and unbelievable. I am not at all brave, and need to keep my driver’s licence so I followed his advice and shut up. So much for my self-respect. But the hell with it, better I fade in incarceration than by shame, that the stupidity of my antagonists be known.

Local cops had a demarcation spat with the motor cycle fraternity and were given extra powers to do them over, their already vast resource not enough. Police publicity advised the public to dob-in and deplore the bikie element. I had contempt for this moronic group, kidding themselves they were free spirits etc when in fact they were so clearly dominated by a hierarchy and a militant system as to be beneath contempt. They kept to themselves, or to the point, didn’t cause me any inconvenience so rightly, I have no fear of them, I do however fear the police who enter my home and menace my well-being by threats to my independence with instructions on how to think.

Gillard, the lady PM of Australia doesn’t really have much to do with the inner workings of the great southern land, and ditto Abbott should he gain the titular title. The self-important mouth of Queensland doesn’t run that State neither, nor will his successor whose appearance will be sooner than later. The real string-pullers with the grease-can are career Bureaucrats who interpret and mold the law-maker’s wishes to suit their own egos and intent and whose deceit condones multi $K annual bonuses for the officially accepted policy of pretence.

Cheers, Les Johns.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012 2:18:00 pm

To My English Friend Gingerzilla in Defence of Generous Australian Age Pensions.

September 4, 2013

Fall guy

Fall guy (Photo credit: Dizzy-one)

Forgive me for not having the decades of life needed to justify a deep and meaningful reply to your insightful but esoteric, too intellectual for me, blog. Will try though.

This country is swamped by confidence tricksters and all types of fraudsters at election time, much like the goings-on in your glorious country on these occasions. It is not hard to understand why oldies are a favored target, the assumption being that they have just emerged from tired, stretched wombs, overwhelmed and speechless at the wondrous world around them.

These opportunistic crims woo old wankers who have always mismanaged their money, don’t pay utilities bill and have their power cut. Unctuous do-gooders jump in, condemning everyone bar the ‘poor victim,’ who was/is the best guy you could know etc.

I was simply defending the present Government’s electric subsidy which far exceeds my quarterly $131 bill leaving me $3800 a quarter after rent for food, to run the car or to use as I fancy. That’s a wrap.

Attempted Censorship Brisbane 1971. Adam Darius, American mime, nine curtain calls. Programme & reviews.

September 1, 2013

 

Biography of Adam Darius, courtesy of and thanks to Wikipedia.

 

Adam Darius, USA Mime. 29/04/1971

Adam Darius programme.

Darius inside fluff.

 

The menu for this popular restaurant of its day was tucked into the programme so I presume we finished our night out at this now closed joint. Note the 15 cents for ‘filtered’ coffee. I expect you fancy queens pay $8.95 or more for this bullshit today.

 

Bill Of Fare, Diamond Drill Bistro, circa Adam Darius tour.

 

D D Menu

Brisbane Telegraph On-going Darwin Dingo Trial. September 22, 1982 & old adverts.

August 28, 2013

Dingo Trial; Burt/Glenn Milne (Wednesday, Sept 22, 1982)

The flip side of the page covering Lindy Chamberlain’s plight is just as interesting. Witness the Government persecution of the parents of a handicapped son over a couple of bob. This harassment happens today. Only three years ago, an elderly friend, now dead, was hounded by Queensland’s Housing Department for forgetting to declare her first husband’s 1944 war pension which was about two dollars in today’s money. The sum involved was so petty that is would have added about 10 cents to her rent.

Reverse page of Dingo Story.

Butcher adverts are interesting in that hogget, once the choice of the budget buyer is no longer on the market after a sheep glut caused extreme culling which virtually wiped out the ovine market creating the present high prices with lamb being priced out of the average family shopping list. On the other hand, a full old cow rump can be seen today for around $6 a kilo compares favourably with the $3.39 of thirty years ago.

Butcher shop adverts. 1982

More meat ads

Oldies don’t need your assistance to experience derision Syvret,we have the public service.

August 18, 2013

In The Aisles. (Syvret)

1964 Cairns Little Theatre Production “Paint Your Wagon,” “Our Town”& “17th Doll” Programmes.

August 17, 2013

 

"Wagon" Programme Cover.

 

Reg Stocker, Flo Cairncross

 

"Paint Your Wagon" the germination.

 

Five Principle Players.

 

"Tropical News Week." (Wagon)

 

Page two

 

Our Town

 

Our Town cast</a

 

17 th Doll.

 

17th Doll (cast)

 

Labor Rats: Office Rodents Win.

August 17, 2013

Office Rats.

‘Hippies’ Bryan Nason and John Watson. Tales from the Magic Era.

August 17, 2013

 
"Loot" 1

 
Loot 2

 
'Hippies' Bryan Nason and John Watson. Tales from the Magic Era.

Sunday Mail story September 7, 1997: “Where Have All The Hippies Gone”?

The Tony Worsley attribute might be wrong, spitting image of a youthful John Watson.

 

A Look-back With Affection.

“I Don’t Frown for Thee Australia, but for Yours Truly.”

August 14, 2013

Abbott (new text)

“Trust me, my name’s Tony (strawman) Abbott, and I wouldn’t know how to lie.”

August 8, 2013

Abbott (new text)

Inspired Courier Mail type-setter, circa 1973. Telegraph Reunion Circular.

August 2, 2013

Brisbane Telegraph on strike.
 
 
Cunt lunches (2)

 
 

Telegraph Reunion

Silence Kills: Our ‘leaders’ love wars if they’re not in it; what’s Abbott got lined-up?

July 24, 2013

A Townsville based anti-Viet war brochure from 1970.

img0331968 Anti-Vietnam War Brochure.

img034 Anti-Vietnam War Side 2

Cairns Little Theatre presents… “Paint Your Wagon.”

July 19, 2013

Thanks to successful movie actor, Anthony Hopkins, who featured in a recent Craig Ferguson show, I now know that a highlight of his career occurred in Glasgow fifty years ago this week. Standing-in for the ill Laurence Oliver I think it was, but of far greater importance about the same time was the Cairns Little Theatre’s showing of their first and possibly last musical production. The prominently reproduced Cairns Post review features their 1964 local tour itinerary.

My arrival in North Queensland a year or two earlier coincided with the showing of John Wayne’s zoo-chasing hero movie Hatari and its long-lasting popular cutesy, Henry Mancini composed theme, Baby Elephant Walk. A large ensemble of Spanish dancers, The Great Lousillo, apart from introducing we plebeians to Ravel’s Bolero, seemed easily accommodated on the theatre stage, but the Little Theatre had its own venue a couple of blocks from the town centre, the Hibernian Hall, I think it was.

The cosy, friendly little town of Cairns was most welcoming and I went on to spend the best part of a decade in this undisturbed paradise of some, then 29,000 inhabitants. Entertainment was party or self-generated. After the hamburger joint, the ‘chinese’ was the place to be seen until the really suave and sophisticated lifestyle changed local society when a pizza shop opened.

The more dogmatic among us persisted with using the phonetic “pizz-ah” until capitulating to the majority. Had these smart-arse southern intruders been nipped in the bud at this point, the Surfer’s Paradise-like vermin invasion might have been delayed or derailed in its tracks. I jest of course.

The five photos shown are my souvenir picks from the many on offer that were taken on full dress rehearsal. The bulk of the audience that night consisted of nuns from St Monica’s. Somewhere within the upheaval of my filing system is a “Wagon” programme and when it surfaces will drop it in this post in the possibility descendents of the players might recognise forbears.

 
img013 CP Review

Review from Cairns Post June 1964.

Note mixed quote marks.

 

Fifty Year old Qld Govt tourist promo.tape provided by Marc of nearby Edmonton, used by Cairns Post. The tape shows its age. When it stops, restart the clip and slide over the blip-spot. It’s worth persevering with.

img012
 

This is a melancholy scene; that damned wind Maria, perhaps? The old chap seated on my right was making side quips sending a grandson on his right into giggling fits, another lanky grandson stands behind me.

img010 Swing doors; bottle

“Out the window goes the beans.” The coated, sitting chap about to catch bottle thrown by exuberant, soon to be rich miner, was sans left arm.

img004Dancing; wall nude.

“The first thing you know.” Lee Marvin.

img007Rumson's Bar

“Backstage” review of 2009 off-Broadway production.

img009Campfire

“I was born under a wandering star.”

My Cairns Friends, Any Left Standing? Bill Manning’s Pie-cart.

June 28, 2013

Fifty year old Govt tourist promotion tape provided by Marc of Edmonton, used by Cairns Post.

The Cairns Post ran a Tweet header that couldn’t be ignored and I swear it was directed at me, but contrary to previous occasions when my material was welcomed, the emotion wasn’t reciprocated. Being critical of the Cairns Post owner on Twitter has far-reaching consequences. By coincidence, am undergoing a personal Cairns revival of sorts having persisted with the craft of photo scanning and getting a recently recovered cache of youthful memories into my blog-site’s media library. The very last photo successfully transferred was of a forlorn East West DC3 on the Cairns tarmac that I was about to board for Weipa. A lone middle-aged couple, conservatively dressed in calf length overcoat ahead of me gave the overcast day a Casablanca feel. Fokker Friendships were replacing the trusty Gooney Bird and my flight was one of DC3s last, I understand.

Casablanca Cairns

Casablanca Cairns

The time was 1966, the year decimal currency was introduced, when a week or so after I arrived in Weipa, curious workmates would crowd around the latest arrival for a glimpse of the new currency. Thanks to Marc of Edmonton for keeping and to the Cairns Post for using the 1964 tourist promo tape. I was especially delighted and surprised when the brief grab of a Cairns Little Theatre rehearsal appeared. Showing the very competent director and popular Reg Stocker doing what he was wired for. Reg’s day job was with Adult Education.

Soon after the Cairns amateur production of Paint Your Wagon,(Oregon movie sites) the butch Lee Marvin made musicals an acceptable art form by starring in the Hollywood version. Marvin was a regular visitor to Cairns at marlin season, as was Australia’s radio and tv identity Pick A Box compere, Bob Dyer who brushed fame on me by asking for parking meter change.

On Saturdays, at Bill Smart’s Palace Hotel, shown in the video, the Little Theatre had a fund-raising event called a goose-club where ten or so business-donated items were raffled. I got to know Reg and his ticket selling crew and was gently press-ganged into the “Wagon” cast.

Around the corner on the kerbside outside the Impy (Imperial Hotel) Bill Manning’s pie-cart held sway. Bill advised me to acquire bakery equipment in bits and pieces, whenever I had a bit of spare, and irregardless the time it took, stack items where-ever, under the bed was one suggestion, and hold until ready to open a business. Our shared careers as pastry-cooks was the connection. The Cairns Post did a piece on an Edmonton pub a couple of years ago and used my little reminiscence of the time I worked at the nearby, now long gone Hambledon Sugar Mill.

With eight years or so to draw on, this might be an appropriate time to ease off for the time being.
lesjohns.wordpress.com/

 

Creating More Cunning, Thieving Bastards… Local Councils.

June 25, 2013

English: Monument at the birthplace of Steele Rudd

English: Monument at the birthplace of Steele Rudd (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

OUR TOWN…Not a happy little town.

This is an old post from April 2011. Resurrected it when I saw a Turnbull line about referendum for recognition of Local Government (This means SFA to me.) would fail.

Would like to remind readers of what was probably the opening paragraph of Steele Rudd’s (Arthur Hoey Davis) 1908 satirical take on Queensland politics,“Dad In Politics.”

“Smith, the member for our district, died one day, and we forgot all about him the next. Not that a politician is ever remembered much after he dies, but Smith had been a blind, bigoted, old Tory, and was better dead. Politicians are mostly better dead, so far as other people and their country is concerned …”

Appreciation once again to the invaluable Wikipedia.

Remember that one about empty drums making the most noise? That’s how it is in any Main Street, Scrubtown. The less cerebral talking over the top of those who hesitate a few seconds to intelligently consider before making an impulsive retort. Walking away from and avoiding these anti-social boors gives them free rein to become the insufferable Cambell Newmans and the cautious mayor never secretive about the wider picture, ready to tilt at fuller tills. Newman doing a Charlie Sheen, a wind-bag pushing his amusement interest beyond the ho hum, his Peter’s Level exceeded.

Of mundane, domestic interest, my Saturday visits to the library involuntarily suspended after strong implications I risk tarnishing a blameless life by indulging in petty theft. Inquiring on consecutive Saturdays the absence of that days Curious Mail, the third Saturday was set upon and told that stolen chronicles a problem and I could have access only under supervision. Dumb Les again the schumck. I would rather be accused of ram-raiding an ATM machine.

For an anti-confrontational peace lover, I never can comprehend why is it so that the shortest of outings has me arriving home with another conundrum or two. Even a glance from my study window could invoke a committal hearing. I and one other sixtyish, tubby, curmudgeonly Cromwellian look-alike and imitator were the only users of the reading room first thing, he on the dot machine and the one most adept at sowing seeds in contrite, bucolic minds.

Unknown to me initially, I expressed wonderment at the ease an amateur’s letters being used by NY Times and Guardian even before I was conversant with email. Reminding him of my novice status, I reluctantly agreed to ‘edit’ his three emailed stories, every line a paean to the cause. His intro. notes a grammatical and structural mess, an obvious lure. I was livid and had it out with him at the library.

When one gets in bed with government, one must expect the diseases it spreads.

This bloke wears an array of hats, significantly that of founding member of a local revamped political party who put an eventual turncoat in Parliament, has now endorsed a mate to grace George Street Looter’s Club. It was a church cap that propelled his belief once too often and the rift. “It’s my job,” he excused his enthusiasm. He may well have used “God made me do it.” I’ve already speculated on yet another hat where a Council building contract to unnecessarily replace a popular faculty has probably been decided.

Newman stands condemned as far as I’m concerned, for reassuring the major State Bureaucratic criminals of their everlasting top-level omnipotence. Contra stitched deals between the new head-man and back-room bastards hiding behind the elected pretenders of democracy, whatever the individual’s take on that word. Whoever the ultimate power-brokers, the status quo won’t change and my naive mind suggests there is little to be gained by exchanging one lot of $1,000 a day rank thieves and bludgers with a similar crew.

I suppose that is a version of democracy at work, rotate the bandits to shush and appease ‘em all. We could be reminded more often of their personal sacrifices to serve the community they love for a miserable $!,000 a day when their real worth in the real world outside George Street would get them much more than tea and biscuit money. Les.

Drop site:lesjohns.wordpress.com into your search bar for 60 more good reasons for dwelling in the desert.

Badrick, Harvey, Reynolds and other Psycho Illiterates: Twitter Birdbrains.

June 22, 2013

“By giving us the hate spiel of the greedy, the boor and the dunce, Twitter keeps us in touch with the fools and fanatics in our midst.”

“There is much to be said in favor of the letters to the editor pages…the opinions of the dunces keeps us in touch with the ignorance of the community.

Oscar Wilde quotes

It is with that quote in mind that I present a few spiteful Tweets, this era’s ‘letters,’ quite probably sent into cyberspace by someone you know.
Some comments didn’t paste over to this blogsite too well. For instance, my tweet name leads some of these nasty lines, but editing this vile garbage is essentially a time-waster which I saved only because my naïvety couldn’t believe people could reach adulthood without having even a basic punctuation and grammatical knowledge. I will try to separate and tidy-up if feedback suggests interest.
In keeping to a Devil’s Advocate stance, I twitter-follow a few extremists of both political sides and noticed the Scot reaction to a nasty piece of shit authored by a schizoid/schizophrenic or whatever his disease, which seems advanced.

Warning! Reading the following drivel might pollute the brain:

Chris Reynolds ‏@thebirdman1010 11h

Besides being the first female to become PM, Gillard will also be remembered as the first PM to be sprung lying on a regular basis

Chris Reynolds ‏@thebirdman1010 11h

Besides the obvious fact @CraigEmersonMP has,nt a musical bone in his body,an a poor taste in women,He will simply be remembered as an idiot

ooooooooo

Tim (Timmy) Badrick@TBadrick 6m

Hi @CraigEmersonMP,just saw you on @theprojectTV shorts sitting in on a meeting between @JuliaGillard & #CCP, was #Tibet autonomy discussed?

Tim (Timmy) Badrick@TBadrick 13h

DISCONNECTING ELECTRICITY TO THE ELDERLY SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES: http://badrickunadulterated.com/?p=10401

Les Johns@LesJohnsLes 11h

@TBadrick You are NLP/News.com easily manipulated putty. $2 day usage X 120=$240; net pen. after rent $3600. Been bludgers entire lives.

im (Timmy) Badrick@TBadrick 3h

@lesjohnsles What does your mumbo jumbo hav 2 do with the price of eggs? U mean every old person caught up in poverty rut were bludgers? BS!

Tim (Timmy) Badrick@TBadrick 2h

@lesjohnsles @couriermail Just because UR a penny pinching hermit pauper doesn’t give u a right Les to sterotype pensioners re: power prices

Les Johns@LesJohnsLes 1h

@TBadrick When you become an adult, cosy up to your DLP pals and insist they introduce legislation acknowledging your genius. Sweet dreams.Tim (Timmy) Badrick@TBadrick 1h

@lesjohnsles Well at least i’m not a redneck u nasty old geezer, i know old people who worked hard their whole life who are really battling.

Tim (Timmy) Badrick@TBadrick 1h

@lesjohnsles Is that the best you can do Les? For the record i have no affiliation with DLP, i’m just fair & give them a hearing. UR a goose

Tim (Timmy) Badrick@TBadrick 53m

It’s such a shame that the Sydney & Melbourne socialite chicks as i call them proved to be too snappy & unpredictable to have on my twitter

oooooooooooooo

———–

Basic, essential grammar eludes most of these sages.

Brad ‏@bradthegunn 4m

Roughly 27% of Australian would cut off there nose to spite there face.

ooooooooooooo

The next character prefers anonymity, suggesting an admission of …

roy harvey@barnbrack 10m

Witness: Thatcher’s dramatic 1990 fall – “Stabbed in the front” http://reut.rs/12AAGAE  via @reuters

roy harvey@barnbrack 2h

@barnbrack TO MAKE CAMERAS THERE WORTH WHILE VOLUME IS THE ONLY THING POLITICIANS THINK ABOUT NOT LIVES AND POLICE MUST FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS

@barnbrack Dont blame our police for covert and Russian like big brother tactics regarding camerasIT’S communist trained labour politicians

@barnbrack If you want to be seriously regarded as a sage, do your fans a favor and have an educated mentor vet your gems before despatch.

roy harvey@barnbrack 

@LesJohnsLes Les is there a message in there somewhere Your educated response to my tweet is way above me you sound like some type of moron

roy harvey@barnbrack 54m

@LesJohnsLes Read your header John Seems that TWEETERS ARE MORE OR LESS DUNCES AND IDIOTS Yet you are replying to us what’s that make you

@barnbrack It makes me despair that an oracle can so contract a word into apostropic use and shout assumptions, has no idea of his ignorance

roy harvey ‏@barnbrack 3h

Les waiting with excitement to see your next masterpiece of word structure LES Bet your delving into the old OXFORD dictionary l

roy harvey ‏@barnbrack 3h

the exhuberance of your verbocity exceeds me overwhemingly

roy harvey@barnbrack 18h

Les you appear concerned about my tweets I have sent some extra !#$%^&*()_+ dots and dashes Feel free to enter them IF I MISS

roy harvey@barnbrack 18h

By the way Les regarding the use of words METER = USA METRE = AUSSIE CENTRE = AUSSIE CENTER = USA SOUNDS THE SAME DOES THE JOB

roy harvey@barnbrack 19h @LesJohnsLesSorry Les but i don’t have an interpreter to work out what you are trying to say or work out what your on when tweeting roy harvey@barnbrack 19h

@LesJohnsLes As i am a profound thinker Les that’s why i keep trying with you but it appears to be a waste of my time

roy harvey@barnbrack 19h

@barnbrack As i said Les The exuberance of your verbosity overwhelms me exceedingly

Les Johns@LesJohnsLes 19h  Explaining a problem to the dim that will allow its un’standing has always been a challenge to the thinker http://wp.me/pReYN-2vS       19h

@barnbrack But it does keep my feeble mind active Les, trying to get to your Alien level of knowledge far beyond the norm of us humans

roy harvey@barnbrack 19h

@LesJohnsLes Sorry Les but i don’t have an interpreter to work out what you are trying to say or work out what your on when tweeting

  1. Think you’ll find with ‘what(‘)s’ v. informal use. The contraction after ‘what’ implies you ask me.”…what is that make you”?

    1. If you want to be seriously regarded as a sage, do your fans a favor and have an educated mentor vet your gems before despatch.

    2. Read your header John Seems that TWEETERS ARE MORE OR LESS DUNCES AND IDIOTS Yet you are replying to us what’s that make you

    3. It makes me despair that an oracle can so contract a word into apostropic use and shout assumptions, has no idea of his ignorance

    4. Jeeezz Les now i see why we unlearned are inferior to you We don’t know all those big words Nor can we phrase them so well

    5. waiting with excitement to see your next masterpiece of word structure LES Bet your delving into the old OXFORD dictionary l

    You’ve made ‘your’ a possessive adj. when meant 2B contracted to ‘you’re’ (you are)Using apostrophe here ties in w/ phonetics.

    4:34 AM – 7 Apr 13 · Details
    1. @barnbrack TO MAKE CAMERAS THERE WORTH WHILE VOLUME IS THE ONLY THING POLITICIANS THINK ABOUT NOT LIVES AND POLICE MUST FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS

    2. If you want to be seriously regarded as a sage, do your fans a favor and have an educated mentor vet your gems before despatch.

    3. Read your header John Seems that TWEETERS ARE MORE OR LESS DUNCES AND IDIOTS Yet you are replying to us what’s that make you

    4. It makes me despair that an oracle can so contract a word into apostropic use and shout assumptions, has no idea of his ignorance

        roy harvey@barnbrack 5 Apr@LesJohnsLes Les the exhuberance of your verbocity exceeds me overwhemingly

    Enable spellchecker and heed its suggestions. Defend your stupidity, it is your greatest asset. “Your ignorance is encyclopedic.”.

     4:34 AM – 7 Apr 13 ·

Classic Photographs Of Whitlam In Brisbane Labor Day March, 1973.

June 7, 2013

Took a few shots of the big fella which could be of interest to Labor devotees and the occasional Liberal leader. Whitlam, that day, was marching to his own proud, triumphant tune. The sub-titled emotional lyrics are in English, little wonder the chorus was in tears at the end. The photos were taken from opposite Royal Art Furnishers/Empire (?) Hotel, down a bit from St Pauls Tce and near The Whisky-a-gogo atrocity, a block up from the Valley Corner and a kilometre from the parade’s Exhibition grounds destination. The first picture features (Sir) Egerton  then Himself with Clem Jones in the middle. The names of the lesser luminaries escapes me. The second features two defining examples of The Salute. The third picture shows Brunswick Street looking toward New Farm. What’s become of the Printer’s Union Standard?

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Whitlam’s China Masterstroke.

Society Needs More 50 yo Experts To Explain To Oldies What Old Age Is All About.

May 31, 2013

About five years ago (yes dear, I really do understand that I was five years younger back then) while shopping at Beaudesert Coles, a deep-sea NZ product, Pink Ling was on ‘sale’ at $12 a kilo. Ascertaining that a carton held 5 kg, I asked for that item. The woman weighed the sealed product confirming its stamped content. “Oh dear me,” she forlornly announced giving me a troubled look, “That’s $60.00 worth, you know.”

I should have fallen to the ground in shock horror disbelief, that the ability to multiply 5X12 disappeared the day I turned 65 and here was another person ten or more years her senior automatically slotted into the Alzheimer’s zone because they believe the nonsense that self-promoters like Buttrose and Age Minister Butler’s Department of Death forever churn out.

At the checkout at about the same time, as was my wont, I pulled out a handful of coins to even the change, a lifelong habit, but as odious to checkout staff as trying to use your own save-the-environment bags. “Give us a look dear and we’ll see what you’ve got.” The woman wasn’t much younger than the writer, and yes, she was trying to ‘help’ and was predicated by her own good nature and not by a bureaucratic, feel-good, take my help or you’ll suffer style of thinking. But it was too late, the addled supposition was rapidly growing roots, reasoning suspended.

Shopping early to avoid the migraine-inducing nicotine stench at the shop front has become my norm, so impinging on checkout traffic wasn’t the need for haste. People greater than ten years their senior are automatically put into the irritating, fumbling oldie bag and that’s that it seems, and the practice of bringing one’s own bags is degrading in any case. Delving for edible foods from a waste bin carries much less stigma apparently, than both old age and own bags.

Consuming a good kilo of salmon a week, I gave Woolworths a go, asking for the ‘skinned’ product. The deli attendant, not unlike her Coles counter-part asked, “You know what you asked for?” Assuring her I had a fair idea, she added, “Well it’s $2 more.” While we are out and about without a carer, these unctuous interfering nanny bastards can get well and truly knotted.

“Beaudesert Times”… Fairfax Regional Humour.

May 31, 2013

Beaudesert is 60 kilometres southwest of Brisbane, directly west of Southport with a mindset that precedes the Bjelke-Petersen era. The pictured quarto is a crude folly/come trade monthly inserted into the “Beaudesert Times.” Its Labor averse editorial material lacks intelligence which should make it a winner with local businesses and their old-fashioned contempt for the rural worker. The ‘chicken crossed the road’ humour within its pages compliments the locals and the Liberal/Nationals in general.
 
 
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Dear GingerZilla, What Can One Say About Maggie?

April 9, 2013

Saint Augustine of Hippo, a seminal thinker on...

Saint Augustine of Hippo, a seminal thinker on the concept of just war (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I no longer awake with that delicious sluggishness that seems to be the preserve of unhurried youth, but with a surprise that I awoke at all. Freudians pontificate that ciggies were a poor and unhealthy substitute for fellatio which is not unlike a more recent urban posit that the positioning of unbagged bananas in ones shopping trolly, if pointing up, was unspoken innuendo the trolly-pusher was available for a bit of fresh. This night, I awoke about normal, 2300 hours, to the sounds of mayhem, chaos and bedlam. It was the telly but I felt like a player in one of your site’s nightmares.

It could have been an example of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. Generally I awaken keen to carry on with something or the other and found your cryptic comment on my message board. Had got the Thatcher news earlier and sent off a tweet to an outrageous gay Scot of my most vivid recollection of Thatcher’s rarely seen human side. On election evening between the polls closing and the count, she and a few office buddies, exhausted from weeks of campaigning, sat on upturned milk crates in an alley and swigged Scotch just as we pinko Labor nose-pickers might have done.

If Twitter is not another device of World Governments/Rio Tinto/Murdoch triumvirate in a 1984 conspiracy to hasten the zombie process of the population and not only its dissenters, then I’m a monkey’s uncle. Murdoch flagship The Australian not renown for caring an owl’s hoot about the dispossessed of Australian society unless it is politically expedient to do so, found a faux cause hoping to embarrass the Government. Their crocodile-teared hyperbole vilified all pensioners for being unable to pay power bills on time when in fact, their failure rate is probably no greater than the general community. Murdoch’s compliant arse-lickers were trying to implicate Gillard’s Government in the so-called plight of pensioners when in fact, they are in a trough of their own making.

As an example of how a latter-day Saint Augustine does it, I put to screen a heavily blanked bank statement showing only my direct pension deposit and monthly ADSL. Months before I had posted my first power bill since the introduction of the carbon-tax, showing well under $2 daily use and overall, $40 less than the usual. I was left with about $3300 per quarter after rent to play with and suggested wasters in youth don’t evolve into wise old sages. Both sides of the political fence soundly condemned me for having no sympathy for welfare recipients who feed the slots till they have to walk home. Tweets and blogs are ASIO monitored and being an oldie, the police threat to remove my liberty for criticizing the corrupt Bligh administration is not easily forgotten. I keep the cat in the bag.

Blindly joining one side is anathema to me as it is for you. Cunts think that if I’m anti A then I must be pro B and get nasty and hateful to discover I despise them all equally. The only approach, as far as I’m concerned, is the middle of the road Devil’s Advocate stance. Why I used the sex analogy in my preamble has well and truly eluded me and following it up would have been too difficult and too long, and I’m buggered and will close this. Cheers, Les Johns.

Do-gooders, $3,000 + After Rent…let them eat cake in the dark.

March 28, 2013

Take a look at first electricity bill after introduction of the big bad bogie tax: here
Found Home Power Generation- a Primer while clicking through StumbleUpon. A quick look suggests it might be a gentle introduction to solar power in inexpensive kit form.

Murdoch broadsheet, The Australian, not noted for giving an owl’s hoot for the dispossessed of Australian society unless it is politically expedient to do so, found a faux cause hoping to embarrass, or most likely, just niggle the Government a little. In a preamble to Murdoch’s visit, a crocodile-teared hyperbole fairy-story vilified all pensioners for being unable to pay power bills on time when in fact, their failure rate is probably no greater than that of the general community.

In Beaudesert, the RSL has buses and cars manned by calculating committee ‘volunteers’ picking-up mainly susceptible welfare recipients and whatever oldie can be conned on pension days to the machines, and will continue with their generosity until the mugs have been cleaned-out. The RSL once had a purpose and a reverent aura won from me more respect then I have for the Queen, but their raison d’être  nowadays is to keep a few no-hopers in bludger’s jobs.

This bank statement shows highlighted direct pension fortnightly deposits. I’ve made it public in the forlorn hope a Labor thinker (oxymoron) might be mysteriously impelled to do simple sums. 

Bureaucratic and private Nanny Do-gooders hate and avoid this information. It conflicts with their pious and poxed interfering superiority.

A financial quarter: 13 weeks = six pay periods. 6 X $613 = $3678

Rent is direct debited, yet not on statement.

Deduct ADSL $309, leaves $3370 per quarter for food and power. I and many other olds run and maintain a late model car.

I do have difficulty in understanding how dim thinking hot-heads “shout” tweet abuse and condemn me for asking where all that cash goes.

Hope the numbers didn’t overwhelm and confuse the Labor fraternity. The usual tirade of abuse is anticipated.

Electricity   No  2 001

Former Two-bit Sydney Councillor, Mike Ahern… “Julia Gillard is a misanderous bitch/animal.”

March 28, 2013

A youthful Bob Ellis avowed decades ago that, the stupidity of your enemies should be widely known, which is why I’ve reproduced a few tweets by a malicious and toxic former Kogarah Councilor, Mike Ahern. The extracted tweets were badly sited in the old post and  by adding one of his gems from this morning and giving the story an apt heading, his libelous ravings might win Canberra Liberal Party approval. Herewith please find inane comments by the former Councillor.

Prime Minister of Australia Julia Gil...

English: Prime Minister of Australia Julia Gillard at a Q & A Session in Rooty Hill, New South Wales (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The tweets are hollow and empty-headed, hateful and unintelligent, yet are about the average for a political party who consider themselves custodians of the Treasury and the rightful rulers of the country. Make of them what you may.

The first of Ahern’s twitter comment plays on the emotions of residents who were flooded or burnt out of their homes. After the heartbreak, most of these people will recover materially because of the fortune of their birthright. The souls he condemns are abandoned to their own desperate clinging to the sea’s flotsam.

And I ask would you vote for the mental runt who pens such Conservative thinking as the Twitter trash hereunder?

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

@juliagillard people of Gayndah more important than asylum seekers. You spend $Bs on them what are you going to do about this situation?

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44 

If @Juliagillard is so bloody wonderful why do I wake up angry every day? Get rid of the misanderous bitch. Have an election !

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

This is the sort of arrogant bitch that @juliagillard is ! Why would you vote for this animal ?

://twitter.com/Mikeah44″>‏Mikeah44Mike Ahern

Notice @juliagillard is always surrounded by girls in her photo’s she mustn’t like boys. Lots of old boys don’t like her either.

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

Does this mean I can’t slam @juliagillard anymore on twitter ? http://www.nationaltimes.com.au/opinion/political-news/twitter-in-talks-with-pms-office-on-bullying-protocols-20130117-2curv.html…

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

Go back on holidays please @juliagillard the past month has been wonderful without you

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

@JuliaGillard GIVITH & @JuliaGillard WILL TAKETH if Labor parliamentarians don’t tow her line. Get rid of her boys before she gets rid of Ye

Mr Denmore ‏@MrDenmore 9

Trust Us, We’re The Police, but would you trust Kim Williams?

March 21, 2013

Queensland Government Treasury Buildings, Quee...

Queensland Government Treasury Buildings, Queen Street, Brisbane, ca.1907 (Photo credit: State Library of Queensland, Australia)

This letter went to another blogsite earlier today.

Kim Williams with a visage so dread that Gabrielle would question the creator’s grand plan presents as Murdoch’s contemptuous doppelgänger, saying in effect, “Yep, that’s me writ large, now what are you going to do about it”?

Led here via twitter comment and Dirty Deals And Unprincipled Politics, the intention was to wonder loudly if Abbott’s cynical hijack of the construction worker symbol, the hard-hat, won converts to his dubious cause.

The alias, This little black duck,caught my eye when two words of the title stuck out like bull’s balls. Black Duck was uttered by a Qld police Senior-Sargeant at my residence, after I innocently declared that 14 years after a spouse’s death, the sting had abated, that living an uncomplicated life alone was a delight. A Google search indicated the term is police jargon meaning a dangerous solitary type most likely pouring over the net for better bomb-making recipes or a chronic pocket-billiard player.

Supposedly acting on the complaint of one half of a duo who I opined on a blog-site as a stasi-like harpie who would goad and harass a perceived foe into physical retaliation to bring about a police complaint and so set up the innocent party as being a danger to society. Queried why would I suddenly become anti-social having lived without the compulsion to steal, strike people or to drive without consideration, the wise policeman answered,”With your type its all about luck.”

Jees, sixty years of luck yet I lack the genius or the ability to put into effect what’s on my mind.

“I believe you’re not in control of yourself and I want you to make an appointment with your doctor,” was his next profound statement,”and *we’ll go along for a mental evaluation test.” Expecting compliance, he was agog when I rejected his care and concern as I understand departmentally threatened oldies quickly wilt and throw in the towel when spooked by the law or when spoken down to by those repellent State-backed matrons waving the nanny banner.

“I’m going through your stuff tonight,” he announced on his exit,” and if I find anything, I’ll be back,” Well The Terminator and friends made 76 hits that night in October, 2011, on anti-Bligh Government comments and I patiently await his return. In the course of his conversation he expressed displeasure at my nazi terminology and insisted I quit describing the fifth column as such.

To my shame I’ve kept a low profile since and have moved well away from the antagonists to retrieve a peaceful life,but I’ve worked a way around the system. Since well before the day an ‘officer’ called and ever since, have keep a running paper diary and never fail to update the days events. An easy and quick to activate voice recorder which I reviewed and put on an earlier post is with me at all times. A crash camera is in the post.

*The Royal, cosy and matey, “we” was actually used, placates a disturbed mind you know.

Gabrielle Ray

Gabrielle Ray (Photo credit: Truus, Bob & Jan too!)

The Beattie Menace.

March 8, 2013

Front page of The Courier-Mail, 12 December 20...

Front page of The Courier-Mail, 12 December 2005, prior to its conversion to a tabloid format. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Courier Mail invites its readers to share their thoughts on chosen stories but when that topic has run its course and letters are no longer being accepted, a box stating that fact could take the place of the invite box. That would alert writers to the fact.

Because of that omission, I now present the letter:

Don’t tell me the lurks and perks need a topping-up. Newman had tons of material to use on the remnants of Beatties legacy, but didn’t. Why not? After the electoral wipe-out, the former Premier had the front to pursue, via family, a political career and then accept an ego award for his contribution etc…. Not forgetting he and his successor had an Arizona business assignation. If Newman’s plans are enacted, the removal of cretins from the community could benefit future humanity.

English: Beatties and Checkers Cafe, Holmfirth

English: Beatties and Checkers Cafe, Holmfirth (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Australian Breakfast TV Stinks. Dreary Drivel.

February 10, 2013

Photograph of Malcolm Turnbull, New South Wale...

Photograph of Malcolm Turnbull, New South Wales Liberal politician. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Those two ABC 24 breakfast “presenters” are almost too bloody childish for words, bar every view they offer agitates the piles to bleeding. Their ABC masters evidently want practicing Sunday School teachers to entertain adults. The  gee whiz, isn’t that shocking? approach is vomit-inducing, as is commercial TV. Such is the dearth of decent morning tv entertainment that I’m playing “rainy day” videos. It must be time to visit Jesus.

Until the Australia Day hyperbole gush when she breathlessly lauded Australians citizens, in classic doublespeak, their ‘mateship and loyalty’ (sic) having only days earlier put the death knell on a well-regarded NT Senator in favor of an aboriginal woman, I had defended the Australian PM on twitter, simply because the opposition supporters unintelligent twitter comments seemed without challenge from her own side. Had the PM possessed any mate instinct she wouldn’t have considered for a fraction of a second shafting Rudd and when her party reaffirmed their support for her, I went along with the farce, very sore though at having my integrity pulped. A Federal Labor win seemed possible two weeks ago, but that’s well and truly gone. Should fortune again favor the dumb and Labor wins under Gillard’s stewardship, Rudd’s couldn’t risk  having another tilt at usurping the lady. I’m retiring from this nonsense and returning to the sanity and safety of the Secular movement.

Bob Ellis declared decades ago, the stupidity of your enemies should be widely known, but if I’ve erred and it wasn’t his quote, please attribute its origin to the great Alexandra. While my most voracious critics can be found under the family sunshade, this post is more about politicians and their fat cat permanent heads obvious assumption that the electorate should be penalized for being minus IQ and ergo won’t notice when the system shits on them. Herewith please find inane comments by a former Kogarah Councillor. They are hollow and empty-headed, hateful and unintelligent, yet are about the average for a political party who consider themselves custodians of the Treasury and the rightful rulers of the country. Make of them what you may.

The first twitter comment under comes from a selfish NLP ninny who plays on the emotions of Australians who have been flooded or burnt out of their homes. After the heartbreak, most of these people will recover materially because of the fortune of their birthright. The souls he condemns are abandoned to their own desperate clinging to the sea’s flotsam.

And I ask would you vote for the mental runt who pens such Conservative thinking as the Twitter trash hereunder?

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44 1h

If @Juliagillard is so bloody wonderful why do I wake up angry every day? Get rid of the misanderous bitch. Have an election !

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

This is the sort of arrogant bitch that @juliagillard is ! Why would you vote for this animal ?

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

@juliagillard people of Gayndah more important than asylum seekers. You spend $Bs on them what are you going to do about this situation?

Mikeah44Mike Ahern

Notice @juliagillard is always surrounded by girls in her photo’s she mustn’t like boys. Lots of old boys don’t like her either.

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

Does this mean I can’t slam @juliagillard anymore on twitter ? http://www.nationaltimes.com.au/opinion/political-news/twitter-in-talks-with-pms-office-on-bullying-protocols-20130117-2curv.html…

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

Go back on holidays please @juliagillard the past month has been wonderful without you

Mike Ahern@Mikeah44

@JuliaGillard GIVITH & @JuliaGillard WILL TAKETH if Labor parliamentarians don’t tow her line. Get rid of her boys before she gets rid of Ye

Mr Denmore ‏@MrDenmore 9m

@Mikeah44 Charming. Time to up your dose of dementia medication, I suspect.

Malcolm Turnbull ‏@TurnbullMalcolm

Saw this jellyfish in the Harbour today – anyone know its species and whether normally present in these waters?

Ahead are snippets from the nations users:

*Coalition frontbencher Christopher Pyne earlier today said the Federal Government is unraveling like Hitler’s Third Reich in the movie Downfall.Courier Mail

*THE Coalition would be sure to win September’s election if Malcolm Turnbull was leader, independent MP Tony Windsor says.

*Mr Windsor says Prime Minister Julia Gillard and Opposition Leader Tony Abbott are both unpopular and that “I think each of them have kept the other one in the game.” The Courier Mail5/02/2013

Microsoft And Yahoo Colluding Corporates. Untantalizing Twitter.

January 31, 2013

English: Steele Rudd, Ausralian Author

English: Steele Rudd, Ausralian Author (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Microsoft/Yahoo recently made their second hijack attempt of my p.c. They have deep resentment of Firefox it seems, freezing bookmarks and preventing the re-installation of cookies. Trying to download Firefox via I.E. was not without its problems, as you could imagine, but I thwarted their “internet linkage lost” messages. Took a day, but the trusted Firefox was eventually restored. Have now got the best, most trusted browser, Firefox, on flash drive ready for the next assault. Seems these two corporate criminals are programmed and poised to pounce on sites considered vulnerable and cajole and stand over their owners until submission. Even now, am unable to get a picture from ABC24, Courier Mail and NYT are blocked. Am wondering if I inadvertently disabled a box, yet the You Tube picture runs well.

Life without these two protagonists must be Nirvana.

“If people can be educated to see the lowly side of their own natures, it may be hoped that they will also learn to understand and to love their fellow men better. A little less hypocrisy and a little more tolerance towards oneself can only have good results in respect for our neighbour; for we are all too prone to transfer to our fellows the injustice and violence we inflict upon our own natures.”

Two Essays on Analytical Psychology: New Paths in Psychology, 1912

“Five percent of the people think;
ten percent of the people think they think;
and the other eighty-five percent would rather die than think.”
Thomas A. Edison

I relate the following two narrative stories for good reason. Their telling bamboozled a relative and her partner, both with cerebral malfunction,  unable to comprehend the humor. What do you think of them?


(1) A woman gets on a bus with her baby. The bus driver says: “That’s the ugliest baby that I’ve ever seen. Yuk!” The woman goes to the rear of the bus and sits down, fuming. She says to a man next to her: “The driver just insulted me!” The man responds,”Can’t have that love, go straight back and lay into him – go ahead, I’ll hold the monkey for you.”

(2) Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn’t seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy whips out his phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps, “My friend is dead! What can I do?”. The operator says “Calm down. I can help. First, let’s make sure he’s dead.” There is a silence, then a shot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says “OK, now what?”

And a bit about Queensland politics circa a century ago, by author Arthur Hoey Davis, using the nom de plume, Steele Rudd:

Smith, the member for our district, died one day, and we forgot all about him the next. Not that a politician is ever remembered much after he dies, but Smith had been a blind, bigoted, old Tory, and was better dead. Politicians are mostly better dead, so far as other people and their country is concerned …

This quotation is often used to illustrate the cynicism of Australians towards the political class.

From March, 2010. Bligh’s Andrew Fraser.

January 2, 2013

Ronald Reagan Carpentry

Ronald Reagan Carpentry (Photo credit: hc gilje)

I’ve been in absolute deep p.c. shit last few days and to celebrate the recovery of my doco files, the under bit could be proof positive that sleeping files are better left that way:

“When the impeccably attired Andrew Fraser first caught my attention, he and Beattie had copped a spray of water from an irate bystander at an event shoot. His look of utter horror at his pretty suit being  abominated by the hoi polloi had me imagining his tut-tuting and flicking at his suit in the back of the limo as he made his imperious return to the Executive Building.

He was Beatties small C boy then and had yet to attain the hallowed status he enjoys today.(Don’t forget,this written early 2010.) I thought to myself, hullo, hullo, if this is not being up your-self then I am a monkey’s uncle. I checked the phrase  up your-self and what a surprise. Found a connection to  pompous. I then thought, this bloke cares a trillion times more about his image than he possibly could about the filthy unwashed. And hey, I was not wrong. He is selling us out. Did he think to ask a South Australian residents and voters what privation…oh dear, not the right word, but it is apt… the after-effect of their States energy sell-off? I will bet the water perpetrator was traced by the ALP secret police who no longer exist in this state, and is harassed by these phantoms who aren’t there to this very day.” CM 10/03/10

http://www.jittery.com/quotes/government-quotes-c-1.html

Sure there are dishonest men in local government. But there are dishonest men in national government too.

             One way to make sure crime doesn’t pay would be to let the government run it.

  • Ronald Reagan
  • When one gets in bed with government, one must expect the diseases it spreads.
  • Ron Paul
  • As government expands, liberty contracts.
  • Ronald Reagan
  • The art of government is the organisation of idolatry.
  • Henry Mencken
  • I love my government not least for the extent to which it leaves me alone.
  • John Updike
  • One of these days the people of Louisiana are going to get good government – and they aren’t going to like it.
  • Huey Long
  • An ideal form of government is democracy tempered with assassination.

- Voltaire

Of Picnic At Hanging Rock, the Nutcracker and a Dinner for One.

December 26, 2012

Portrait of Robert Helpmann, London taken by A...

Portrait of Robert Helpmann, London taken by Angus McBean (1904–1990) circa 1945. Sourced from the National Library of Australia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sunday afternoon and the oft maligned ABC looked after the first half of the season’s traditional entertainment with the playing of The Nutcracker, This time around, the production was by American west coast company and a pleasant surprise to find it wasn’t ruined by over-modernisation which usually destroys the illusion, a turn-off for a trad man. Mame was on another channel, but has had its run. I was taken aback with the lead Nutcracker’s character’s remarkable likeness to Helpmann’s Don Quixote and it wouldn’t have surprised me to learn the chap got lost after a long lunch and unable to find the Nutcracker lot, stumbled onto The Man of La Mancha set. Any Australian success the all-sung Les Misérables might have, could be laid at the local audience cringe of following the lead.

The second, more engrossing bit of the season’s viewing, occurs early on New Years Eve when the invaluable SBS reruns for the umteenth time, the classic, Dinner For One,  Some of those watching this 18 minutes of unrestrained humour for the first time are in for the rare treat of Miss Sophey’s delusions and her devoted butler. Some, like I was, will be induced back year after year for more of the same. Indiscriminate viewers will hang around for the nonsense and waste of midnight’s firework tedium.

Moving on a few weeks to a fictional story that could have taken place on St Valentine’s Day in olden Victoria, 1900. There are few more chilling and ominous introductions to a movie than the opening words setting the scene to Joan Lindsay’s classic mystery “Picnic At Hanging Rock.” I read the book in awe, and a few years later when the movie was realised, every frame of the picture matched my mind picture as I read engrossed.

On Saturday, 14 February, 1900,

a party of schoolgirls from Appleyard

College picnicked at Hanging Rock

near Mt. Macedon in the State of

Victoria.

During the afternoon several members

of the party disappeared without trace.

Pathoheterodoxy Syndrome Cluster In Canberra.

December 25, 2012

gorky park

gorky park (Photo credit: cdrummbks)

Federal Opposition Front Bench Affected.


“You have unreal expectations… You overestimate your personal powers. You feel isolated from society. You swing from excitement to sadness. You mistrust the people who most want to help you. You resent authority even when you represent it. You think you are the exception to every rule. You underestimate the collective intelligence. What is right is wrong and what is wrong is right.”

Character of Renko and Australian Opposition Front Bench:

Despite being born into the nomenklatura himself, Renko exposes corruption and dishonesty by influential and well-protected members of the élite, regardless of the consequences. Short episodes of the group affliction takes place in the United States, but when exposed to western capitalist society, he finds it to be equally corrupt and returns to the Soviet Union. (While he may have found corruption in the West, in Red Square, it is stated that he returned to the Soviet Union in order to protect his love interest, Irina, from also being forced to return.)

Gorky Park is the first book in a series which also includes Polar Star and Red Square which are set during the Soviet era. Four more books with the character Arkady Renko, which all take place after the fall of the Soviet Union, have been published. These are Havana Bay, set in communist Cuba; Wolves Eat Dogs, which follows Renko in the disaster of Chernobyl; Stalin’s Ghost in which Arkady returns to a Russia led by Vladimir Putin, and Three Stations.[3]

Pathoheterodoxy Syndrome

Pathoheterodoxy Syndrome is a fictional mental illness. It is the idea of a misguided arrogance. The syndrome was said to be contracted by Chief Investigator Renko, who was thus described by a KGB agent:

Ideas and influences

The fact that Renko is described as having this syndrome may be one of the factors to believe he is a Byronic hero. Smith satirically created the concept of “Pathoheterodoxy”, to show the way that the Soviet Union would have characterised Soviet dissidents and their failure to obey and conform.

While the syndrome itself is fictional, the incident also alludes to the very real Soviet practice of labelling dissidents as mentally ill, and of forcibly treating them with psychotropic drugs. Renko’s love interest, Irina, was likewise revealed to have been institutionalized for similarly false “psychiatric problems” and forcibly treated at some earlier time, resulting in a tumor that left her with a severe facial blemish and blind in one eye.
See also

Gorky Park is a 1983 film based on the novel.

“Never Tell The Truth To Those Unworthy Of It.”

December 23, 2012

Film location plate presented by ABC TV to the...

Film location plate presented by ABC TV to the Stapleford Miniature Railway which is still in use today. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Craig,

Very thoughtful and decent of you to replace your profile picture with image of your hero battling away in the Commons for a pension increase. I used my kinder pic. to remind the universe the Johns resurgence stays with a vengeance until all tribes are fused and equalised by the introduction of Kraken spunk. Your tremor experience no doubt emanates from Eastern parts of Aus. Be brave, it is atonement for all that Mayan crap that starved for ideas media masturbaters polluted us with. Or (what’s that one about never starting a sentence with a pr…) the two Sydney-based nurse killers, who are laughing at this free publicity, now set up for life. Straight out of The Avengers Steed and Mrs. Peel.

The other day, a woman who occasionally shares the platonic time of day with me, dropped as honest an opinion of me that I’ve had up-front for decades. The effect was akin to a fundamentalist sibling dropping the f-bomb at the Christmas table and can happily die now ensconced in the warm afterglow of being self-opinionated.

A Google check sated the ego, obviating a dictionary affirmation. Had she prefixed with totally however, the picture would have been much harsher and judgemental. Worse than self-absorbed I believe, on parity with the most adamant of earth’s know-alls. Megalomania which has slipped into common usage for the much obvious, excludes many of us only because we lack the weapons of ‘mass destruction’ to support our ideas.

In another era, self-deprecating jokes was an accepted form of humor and in a vain attempt at resurrecting the genre, was about to say how I have to hesitate few seconds as I exit the yard to get my bearings but realised that Queensland’s thought police would alert the mental evaluation mobiles to apprehend me as suspect Alzheimer, but had I been a few years younger, that would have been my segue or analogy to excuse my blog-sites, bound to stay like this forever in an antediluvian past.

You might recall some time back Craig, I had reduced net services and lost twitter for a while was because I gave ABC iview, or catch-up a hiding which ate into my “bandwidth.” That completes my tech nous. DTV is not new to me. I was one of those early snobs who paid $860 for a set, now $240, that died just before I moved to a late conversion area 70 ks from the city, now on stream. In the antipodes mate, in relation to your ovine comment, sheep expect human sexual intervention before a slit throat.

A Letter To thegingerzilla And A Couple More.

December 20, 2012

English: Kevin Rudd (right) and Julia Gillard ...

English: Kevin Rudd (right) and Julia Gillard (left) at their first press conference as leader and deputy leader of the Australian Labor Party on 4 December 2006. Français : Kevin Rudd (à droite) et Julia Gillard (à gauche) à leur premier conférence de presse en tant que leader et député du parti travailliste australien le 4 décembre 2006. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Quite enjoyed the irony in the parable from updated bible. My curiosity for such reading petered out. Sensitive men sure cop shit for showing contempt for the herd mentality when they follow their instinct and act from the heart. You’re right,of course,the intrinsically corrupt and weak Liberals spoil whatever they touch, have few valid arguments on which to win an election, and rely on supposition and guesswork. One does that when one has no say, much like bloggers and tweeters.

I’ve made the hashtag #lastchancetony as a reminder to opp. front benchers of the feather-duster mode that hangs, Damocles-like, above the backbench parliamentary seats of losers. This despicable specie of Australia Liberal dismiss a court ruling to keep an issue simmering till next election. The Labor Govt goes well by world standards but will join the Europe shit-heap when China fucks-up.

I was unhappy when Gillard shafted Rudd and became PM, but unhappier still when so many of her colleagues deserted her and became seemingly an adjunct of the opposition. Whether she knows or cares, I support her on twitter, but not at the ballot box where the Secular Party, if I can find them on the Senate ticket, gets my nod.

Human nature and pride have done it since year one, but if only these factions could steady the reins till after the election before they draw the knives!

In relation to the proposal that the George Street Looters Club be demolished.

A disproportionate amount of female employees fell to cancer whilst employed at the Toowong office of the ABC. The building was abandoned after this inexplicaple phenomenon escaped rational explanation and the vague term “cancer cluster” came into use to describe the condition. I wonder if a similar scourge is not at work at 100 George Street where politically afflicted persons soon develop personality aberrations and fall under the spell of a “megalomania cluster” which might permit attention by the Deen company. (Infamous destructors of historic sites under Joh’s patronage.)

And Origin Energy, whose CEO trough-take is about $8M.

Be brave, summer has come, take a cold shower.I disabled my HWS and “saved” $38 last quarter. Few of my contempories go to that extreme, but none of them are adversely affected by so-called carbon tax.

If It’s Queensland, It Must Be On The Nose.

November 30, 2012

AWM Caption: Three Australians of the 45th Bat...

AWM Caption: Three Australians of the 45th Battalion (Australian Company) Royal Fusiliers in North Russia in 1919. About 200 former members of the AIF served with the British Army in North Russia. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sixty years ago, Australians feared the commies were about to overrun the country leaving women and children ravished, the men slaughtered, or having uncouth Ruskies hanging out of anything that moved. Nothing happened, none of us got lucky. Apart from our pure European bodies, water taps were also in their sights, the Red savages believing that by simply jamming these items into walls, plentiful water would gush forth. We waited in vain for a takeover and what with the nuclear cloud a constant threat, food hoarding was recommended and even today I store enough tinned and dried products for a few months and then would have joined the mob to rape and take at will. That lifestyle has became de rigueur in any case.

Unfortunately for the expertise of the fear-mongers, peace came and stayed and stayed. But hang on, the sooth-Sayers turned their attention to China whose “dragon was arousing” and countless millions of them, with swags and woks at the ready were more than ready to make future Aussies slitty-eyed. Didn’t happen, not en masse anyway. Becoming blaise now about invasion, I was less than ready to accept the finger-licking eating style of S.E.Asians and didn’t care to lose my cutlery. But next came Indonesia looming big as the next potential enemy. Their maps had Australian and PNG place names in their script which by the constricted official thinking forever endemic, meant that invasion was imminent. Did not the Japs print invasion notes, which later become souvenir collectables?

But the real enemy back then was not visible, many of them not even swinging in the nut sac. Today, they have evolved as a form of fifth columnist, agents provocateur certainly, Judas-goats perhaps, answerable to and reporting back to apparatchik-like heads, whose pedophilia was kept quiet provided they passed information about ‘dissenting’ fellow Housing Commission tenants perceived as anti-government or who could be exposed as “cold case” type crims. Still very much active in this field is a high-camp puppeteer doing the North NSW circuit, access to children guaranteed per his theatrical interest.

You would have noticed Craig, how in a few words those tiny AAP fillers can be mines of information. A recent story from the Mother Country appeals to a droll humor whereby an English woman went to trial and was fined $170 for calling her NZ neighbour a “stupid fat Australian bitch”. The fracas was described as ‘a racially aggravated public disorder’. Bollicks, bullshit and stupidity will always find a way.

.

A Communication To The GingerZilla.

November 13, 2012

Old Age Home
Old Age Home (Photo credit: Ghintang)

My Dear Friend Of The Kraken Brethren,

Sometimes Craig, I think we’re too quick to judge those whose only intent is to protect the people from themselves. Queensland police are running around our streets pointing wi-fi scanners at our computers. Evidently their ‘supers,’ ‘sirs’ and ‘mams’ worry about computers having unprotected connections. This could be like their owners having unprotected sex, soon the target of asio sheet-sniffers. Now that oldies have been reassured  that wanking-derived aids can’t happen, being separated from my pc would well and truly bugger my sex life. Our nannys, like everyone else, are repulsed at the image of wrinklies knowing one another, but would be downright violated at the depraved images that I rekindle at every opportunity. Oldies should be separated from their computers it has been mooted, the stupidity they inherit the night they turn sixty-five compels a search for donees to take their cash being the theory.

I erroneously believed that by gradually increasing morning walkies from a few fairway lengths to six or seven kilometres over eroded and rough antediluvian tracks and then completing the uncryptic crosswords, that I would hum like a newly serviced Jag, my misplaced enthusiasm now obliges me to rest up and recover from these exertions. Another shot-down fallacy is the sexpert’s axiom of “while there’s movement, there’s hope,” so out the window goes the vanity and in comes the avoirdupois but what the devil! My barreled torso the major blot on an otherwise relatively well-preserved hunk of man meat. OK, my contemporaries are dead cockatoos unable to verify my boast, but those few moments until the motion detector is turned off are painful to see. Kathleen once observed, ” How I ended up with you, I’ll never know, you’re as ugly as a hatful of arseholes.” In youth such incidentals don’t matter too much.

My morning escapades are actually a cover for nefarious and noxious old man deeds, not forgetting your good self and officialdom’s constant reminder of the sheer stupidity and the ever-present odium of the under-class known as retirees, that being granted a pretence of normalcy is conditional upon us remembering our status with the rider we don’t get too cocky. Those of us who refused to abandon childhood stuff know the bush holds little pockets of secrets and I utilised one or two of these treasures for big-kid pursuits.

The State will benefit from my few forlorn assets and to lessen their haul, have got into the habit of planting $1,000 wads here and there throughout the scrub and have made provision for other eventualities in that very same heath, as I believe you call straggly, shitty scrub. The pension is ludicrously generous, you know, but it’s the price one pays for unnecessary and unwelcome nanny do-gooders and ASIO sheet-sniffers intruding into private lives and bytes. The sit-down payout is so geared that 60% of all pension and welfare handouts expected to be spent on luxury items like slops and tobacco, and of course, tipped relentlessly into poker machines.

In my old place of residence in Beaudesert, conversational companions were a rarity and because of our mutual crossword interest, an elderly neighbour and I developed a talking relationship. Two daughters visited her, usually after they’d done their balls on the  machines and had to borrow from mum. One had a Gold Coast home, the other acreage. “I know I won’t see a cent of it,” she confided without malice.  She died soon after this exchange and I then learnt her estate of $55,000 came about from no other source than the pension. A peaceful roof, adequate food and power is about the only needs of people done with all the material trappings and bullshit of life, ciggies, slops and dining-out fading with the advent of old age. Federal opposition hoping to make capital out of the “carbon tax” will come a cropper with more oldies having the gift of reason than interfering do-gooders would prefer.

I tend to sidetrack, Craig, having left the subject behind, impressionable teenagers masquerading as cops, I think was a point of contention, and guv’mints too, or rather their agents. I have little sympathy or appreciation for the inflated poonses in the medical trade. Eight years after her confirmation of throat cancer, my partner had lately had her larynx removed and her ‘outside’ doctor had been changed to a nearer doctor, the original out-consultant too far away now because the long road trip began taking its toll. She ‘conversed’ via a memo pad and a week before she died had scrawled in large print, NO MORE MORPHINE which two of her mates discovered propped on her chest. It was a general appeal, but mainly for medical personnel.

“I want to be lucid in the few days I’ve got left,” she explained in a follow-up note.

“She’ll take what I give her.” an indifferent Sister huffed, after I appealed to her.

The Doctor had nous and over-ruled the prawn.

On the last morning, the Sister hadn’t forgotten the slight,”Now she’ll get what I decide.” Incontinent and standing at the foot of her bed while the sheets were changed, it finished at 1 pm.

Clive Palmer Annoys The Annointed.

November 10, 2012

William Bligh

William Bligh (Photo credit: sarflondondunc)

If Mr Clive Palmer shares my prescience, and I suspect he does, he is bound to be appalled by like things. His objection of Feeny as a man most likely comes from Parliament’s cameras that often caught the then Opposition Leader under intense verbal attack by Bligh’s reviled Housing spokesman, and whose only retaliation was ‘to scuttle for his political funkhole.’ Reborn as Deputy Leader, his exposed bravado differs little from his former self and could well be alienating those around him. Jibes and comment from one naturing an embedded grudge brought about by years of public humiliation champs at the bit to get square any which way and finds the safety of a parliamentary hyena pack the ideal platform. To be blackballed by the likes of the NLP can’t be too bad a thing to have on the cv. CM

Protected: Bits From The Past.

March 2, 2014

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Wizard of Id’s thoughts of the toxic imposters known as Legislators.

February 22, 2014

Les Johns of Beaudesert.:

@LiberalAus got Government by underhand, probably illegal means by sustained bullying of a over-obliging and stressed lady, working almost alone. Had the negativity of some male party opponents been absent, @AustraliaLabor would be the preferred Government. The dictator’s adage that repetition works on untruths as well as for facts is cold comfort for those suffering an unexpected lifestyle under duress.

Originally posted on A Letter From Les:

Wizard of Id: Politicking Shysters; the system never changes.

During Victoria’s reign, Parliamentarian poked fellow M.P’s huge belly asking, “What are you going to call it”?
“If it’s a girl, I’ll call it Victoria after our gracious Queen,” came the retort,”but if it’s piss and wind which I suspect it is, I’ll call it after you.”

ooooOoooo

“The body consists of three parts – the brainium, the borax and
the abominable cavity. The brainium contains the brain, the
borax contains the heart and lungs, and the abominable cavity
contains the bowels, of which there are five – a, e, i, o and u.”

Schoolkid bloopers.

ooooOoooo

“Vacuum: A large, empty space where the pope lives.”

ooooOoooo

The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon is a form of synchronicity:

The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon occurs when a person, after having learned some (usually obscure) fact, word, phrase, or other item for the first time, encounters that item again, perhaps several times, shortly after having learned it.

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