LANARTA JEAN RIDES AGAIN… More Stasi Instructions Via Lanarta Jean.

For seventy examples of Liberal generated regression, checkout…

“What is the greatest wonder?

Each day strikes and yet we live as if we were immortal.

This is the greatest wonder.” The Mahasharata.

“All you need in this world is ignorance and confidence, and then your success is assured.”

The recent tongue-in-cheek Mark Twain Award most probably came about by one of his observations:

A couple of weeks ago I got a hastily scrawled, barely legible invite to the annual Public Housing tenants meeting in Beaudesert. It comes up this Wednesday, and my desired absence will be deliberate, but for an astute postman’s deciphering of incorrect numbering, it would have been accidental. The drive behind these “friendly, getting to know you chats” is to lure life’s musty failures into Labor-centric fifth columnists who, after training, don’t miss much. Would not surprise me if skid-marked bedding and pubic hue recorded, and with whom. My grudgingly issued invitation, an unacceptable after-thought which can never be the intended appeasement.

I attended this Government managed farce ago to voice passive nicotine smoke and tenant noise problems and a smug old Party hack, nicknamed Lanarta Jean, assured me that the problems of sub-normals was not on that day’s agenda. Advice in tuning a TV receiver to better acquaint myself with current affairs was available but more importantly, brochures on wise electricity usage would carefully explain how changing my power supplier could be financially beneficial. Having my patience tested with this puerile shit-talk indicates a dim idiot regards me as an equal, or worse, and is playing the dominance game. A couple of weeks later, an opposition power representative to Origin hammered on Commission tenant doors drumming-up trade. As far as I’m concerned his prompting was corruptly inspired.

The meeting’s collection of ten or eleven dumbed-down tenants was matched by as many poo-faced stasi apologists, replicas of the crawling, self-serving cancerous trash that rooted NSW Labor. They clung to the hall’s perimeter like a country dance’s wallflowers. At the conclusion of this bogus meeting, an unpleasant item with a name similar to Shouters threatened to hasten my departure by invoking fire provisions and remove my smoke deflectors. During an unrelated visit QBuild, of whom I have been occasionally unkind by being truthful, saw nothing untoward about my innovative deflectors, their construction or their placement.

QBuild contingent spoke-person sought to ease a non-existent fear which I was expected to show when Housing Commission agents called,”Don’t worry about us, we’re not the other lot, we’re here to check the new floor,” referring to the unnecessary monetary waste of replacing barely worn vinyl flooring. A Housing trait. Evidently these Woodridge Housing grubs enjoy playing Irish lords instilling the fear of eviction into the potato picking serfs.

“Shuduppa you face, you fucking poofter.”

Of Frau Kym Schiklegruber, a compulsive phone pest, I should have counter-acted with an avo. Her phone pestering rendering the item permanently unplugged and useless. An alternative to ADSL being considered for broadband. Another of these base creatures objected to my verbatim quote of a Spanish National foreman’s response asked to tone down his men’s extended vocal noise; “You shut up, you fucking poofter.” he advised me. Nothing much disturbs me nowadays, but I thought, ” Hello, nothing much disturbs me nowadays, but has this prick been reading my mail “?

This girl-child employee to whom I mentioned the incident was at the precinct with an adult Housing person, complained my use of the verbatim quote and my life was further compromised by hateful, unhelpful staff. Not wanting to contend with illegal eviction threats, and fed-up with ten weeks of indifferent or no TV, I sent a missive to Schwarten who then held Housing. TV reception was spasmodic at this time with an established antenna defect. An electrician, a ‘mate’ in on the joke had S.F.A. antenna expertise, obvious after his failed attempts brought only disappointing results. A Brisbane antenna company was dispatched to sort-out the hitch soon after my note to the Executive building and three months of indifferent, scratchy reception was fixed at a price of 2K. and worth every cent to a homebody. Schwarten’s C of Staff, a worldly-wise hard-nut, couldn’t give a rats about everyday vernacular of course, his mortification being reserved for the exclusion of honourable from my note to His Eminence.

Nonsense, nose-picking and less then worldly little girls would be gainfully employed counting paper clips in a remote religious order than make decisions on adults. This skittery type of employee alas, is the best a rotting and rotten Queensland Labor Government can recruit. Those with secretive dealings avoid applying text to paper and deliver threats personally. Stasi tyro inquisitor Terry refused a chair, the intimidating effect of standing supposed to spook the powerless also to give a psychological advantage.

Just record it, worry about the legalities later.

Re-plug your phone was the message from Frau Kym, and take her calls. I asked of him how inappropriate screaming into mobiles outside my flat by two dim tenants might be addressed. Tenancy provisions prevented disparaging comments about fellow tenants which apparently I had just provoked. Effete and useless drop dead empty-headed drongos like this specimen will collectively, hopefully, eventually cause the corrupt Bligh to fall. The fact is, of course, Murray’s harpies won’t loose momentum and victimisation, also known as bullying, of people like me will never let-up. Am exploring recording devices to counter the damage these people try to bring about, but need something more tangible then voice activated recorders. Not an exact science. Replay of Mother Dale’s abnormal noise-making in an oldie’s precinct emerge as a series of clicks and fly-doors bangs, meaningless. Normal play is time-consuming and in law, probably useless. I will add Window 7 toys to my repertoire.

Well before Raguse finally won a seat, about the time I quit denying the malicious machinations of Queensland Labor, Beaudesert’s monthly market in the park attracts budding politicians and their sycophants pre-election, and from yarning with these aspirants came the real meaning of unmitigated and proudly stupid. I suggested to a booth worker how the slack, unimaginative opposition lets the State Labor Government win by default when every issue of the major morning newspaper carries three or four adverse stories that could be picked-up and run with.

My comment so startled the boy Jason who you recall, is on the winning team anyway, that he pulled a camera out of his hat and insisted I pose with his lady friend for a matey shot. Once an avid Labor voter, I seek now to support the candidate most likely to run motherless. Love and best wishes, Les.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: