Investigate Executive Criminals Before They Escape George Street Repercussions. 


Fancy-Boy Fraser: As Treasurers go, what’s that common word for the back hole?

Had my curiosity exceeded my integrity, I would have checked Bligh’s companion, The Courier Mail, for Queensland Labor Government Honors recommendations and taken particular notice of anything going something like, “In grateful appreciation for the misery Jane/Jack Doe’s unfounded accusations have brought to out-spoken Public Housing tenants.” The endearing wording won’t differ too much, but the stasi recipients will smirk at whatever the euphemism.

They would better serve themselves as mercenaries, but the reflected glory wouldn’t shine on Canberra or on rsl poker machine arcades.

Australian troops are in Afghanistan to:

  • Deter the Taliban from getting at Pakistan’s nuclear facilities.
  • Prop-up Stephen Smith’s ego.
  • Fawn, a la Menzies, for USA recognition/admittance to big kid’s secret coven.
  • Justify Defence Chief’s of their swanning between Defence establishments and silver service dinners.
  • Benefit from practical warfare training.
  • Create martyrs out of kids who proved they weren’t invincible after all.
  • In addition, why do their obit. shots have the sameness, the bland death-mask look of executed bushrangers?
  • And, what is this “commitment” all about that war apologists love to sprout?
  • Finally, decades of statistics suggest war-theatre recidivists have a high road kill record at home where they die and kill their own in far greater ratio than if engaged in combat.

Found this old quote; could be relevant today.

Yet another election pundit has released the formula on which he bases his sagacious estimates, and the stats. are roughly; thirty-five percent to each major, 8% for greens, with the fragments the detested thinking deciders. Then I remembered elections past, before even the advent of the Senate as Keating’s swill, when the minorities were regarded as treacherous for not voting for either of the major stand-over merchants. Biased critics, as always, cleverly and smugly called the considered vote a donkey vote, and it made them feel good to have their insightful knowledge known. We get the same deep pondering today by interviewees who trail off with “… and yair, like..” Dummies whose intellectual limit stops at their jabbing of poxy fingers into an iPhone.

The Whig cycle is returning, brothers and sisters, and whether you are a Beaudesert nose-picker or an urban dude, few of you would have the faintest idea you are being fist-fucked and loving it. The tide ebbs and the derisory donkey vote has become more than ever the squeaky voice of the rebel. Power to Katter!

Incompetency, stupidity and snivelling personify the Queensland Government Trinity. I don’t have to leave my place of abode to suffer their pox. A pleasant young man with a cold chisel and a hammer sought admittance to my guv’mint flat a few months back. He banged a test hole through the vinyl to ensure the floorboards would sustain the weight of follow-up workers about to replace perfectly good plastic. Visual and physical access to these floorboards could have been attained by crouching a bit and walking under, but Queensland Government bureaucratic stupidity, swamped as usual with an abundance of maintenance funds, always finds a way to feed its culture of waste under Queensland Labor stupidity.

Perfectly good toilets were removed and replaced by lower-setting and totally inadequate tooties. A few older residents were unable to rise from the low seat and were obliged to purchase over-seats and even the younger and able user has to perch on the edge to avoid oopsies on the surrounds.

A painter was given $4,000 and the paint to redo the verandas only eleven months after the previous sloppy QBuild ‘job.’ I made the suggestion elsewhere that the goings-on from my window warrant a CMC peek, but ha-ha-ha, who’s watching the watchmen?

I Think And Observe, Therefore I Represent A Danger To Queensland Labor Party.

Any Government employee deserving of his superannuation loves to invoke the Mental Health evaluation test, and a hearsay inquisitor worth his salt will ensure the “troubled” target is goaded into an introduction to Sister Ratched’s white lab coats. The distraught victim is invariably an older citizen who has been denied natural courtesy and justice after unnecessary shop-staff rudeness or Government officiousness caused a disbelief of what had befallen him.

The unofficial word I have is that about 1,000 Australians are arbitrarily slotted annually, roughly the same number who die through misadventure while traveling overseas. The public only get to hear the juiciest bits of either area, ie the Oakey lady, the Croat incident. A Government engineered three week memory retention limit soon puts such knowledge in the toilet in any case, except for me, Labor Party stasi sycophants.

The Whig cycle is returning, brothers and sisters, and whether you are a Beaudesert nose-picker or an urban dude, few of you would have the faintest idea you are being fist-fucked and loving it. The tide has turned or ebbed even and the derisory donkey vote has become more than ever the squeaky voice of the rebel.

Incompetency, stupidity and sniveling personify the Queensland Government Trinity. I don’t have to leave my place of abode to suffer their pox. A pleasant young man with a cold chisel and a hammer sought admittance to my government flat yesterday to bang a test hole through the vinyl to ensure the floorboards would sustain the weight of follow-up workers about to replace perfectly good plastic. Visual and physical access to these floorboards could have been attained by crouching a bit and walking under, but bureaucratic stupidity, swamped as usual with an abundance of maintenance funds, always finds a way.

Perfectly good toilets were removed and replaced by lower-setting and totally inadequate tooties. A few older residents were unable to rise from the low seat and were obliged to purchase over-seats and even the younger and able user has to perch on the edge to avoid oopsies on the surrounds.

A painter was given $4,000 and the paint to redo the verandas only eleven months after the previous sloppy QBuild ‘job.’ I made the suggestion elsewhere that the goings-on from my window warrant a CMC peek, but ha-ha-ha, the rebuffs from other indifferent ‘watch-dogs’ present me with a hard job that I am expected to forgo. Who’s watching the watchmen you may well ask, as do I?

Vicious megalomaniacs like Schoutens and Hillhouse fall apart when decent tenants reject their perverse demands. They and their worthless apprentices should be reminded often of their public service status. Would be a good idea for the stomach-deprived Murphy and other Station Road suspects to have their work activities investigated. Love, Les.

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