Under The Spreading Chestnut Tree, I Sold you And You Sold Me.

Thanks again for that line, visionary George.

More nonsense from the suddenly moralistic independents sharing a cup of tea with Ken Henry. Had they been political virgins and not old, well-versed madams of the game, they would be devouring the lurks and perks handbook. In the inevitable election, I’ll vote the party that tells them to collectively get rooted.

What delight to have the Rat Party rolled; a greater pleasure than an orgasm, whatever that was. Their other major sin was to mistake our insouciance for compliance or worse, stupidity. It was Melba who said, ” Sing ’em shit.” Doesn’t always work in politics, does it, $1,000 a day esoteric think tank crap? Steed, on a 45 y.o. Avenger rerun quoted a placard, ” Go Forward Together.” The Rat Party missed that one. The default winners must be reminded often that they haven’t been granted sainthood, just caretaker status.

Stateside, getting Bligh and her wobbly jowled bludgers out of the till must rate as the next project. I am gracious and fair in these democratic matters and with Federal Labor getting the shove, the time has come for the local NLP to rifle Queensland’s treasury and that would come about by their upping Bligh’s annual bribe to the most influential bureaucrats by 10%.

The brave syphilitic duo, Yahoo/Windows prevent further editing by this oldie. They are the worst corporate criminals.

Bucolically,( yeah, I know, but it didn’t get squiggled.) I segue to the small-minded, tight-lipped crooked town of Beaudesert, picked-over and shared by a few select interest groups. The Housing Department and the Works Department vie with each other, not so much over demarcation issues, but to prove by example which of the two exercises the most stupidity. Getting crabby with the coppers is easy to do; it’s a lot like being in opposition and offering suggestions or venting the spleen by sending off bitchy letters to the editor. This shire’s proximity to the criminal police district of the Gold Coast and anecdotal local lore must influence our opinions of the local police. If you are inherently crooked, you don’t need assistance to hone your craft. The franchised poker machine dominated RSL, an intriguing hot-bed of thuggery and suspected nefarious back-room deals with the local police, has a sequestered Housing battle-axe on long loan reporting tenant doings and gossip to her Woodridge masters while jumping the queue to place their mental misfits among the lesser brain-dead who infest these Government housing precincts.
Part two will occur if I can get to my wordpress dashboard.


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