We’re In Queensland, And Nanny Ratched Called On Me.


In Queensland, Nanny Ratched Called On Me.”

I had had an amiable relationship with the R.E. agent and out of decency gave me 4/5 months advisement of sale of rented house. Applied for and got a place. After procrastinating for three months and paying two rents, I ignored the strong premonition of disquiet that engulfed me whenever I drove past the State accommodation precinct at 220-226 Brisbane Street, Beaudesert and moved in. The denigration is immediate with the official description of the residence that most new arrivals want to make a home. They haven’t come to a flat or unit, they’ve come to “accommodation.” And who made this directive? Why, none other than the Ministry Of The Homeless. Is that title in itself not a grand piece of bureaucratic importance? Their motto; Be Contrite or Be Homeless. Companies spend good dollars on a logo that befits the projected image. The implication is you are there by their grace, to dry-out or to recover from a bad dose of crack, then move on. It’s part of the put-down.

Shortly after my induction to this place, residents were issued instructions to use flowery terminology like apartment when referring to their digs. Back then, few people were drawn back to the place and the bullshit supposed to be a lure. I soon discovered that dismissing one’s prescience can have an unpleasant and long-lasting consequence, that public renters like me who query arbitrary decisions have become the new kicking boy displacing the aboriginal race, formerly the favored target of a copper’s tongue and boot. A disgraced redemption of sorts is won by selling your soul to mendacious and venomous Station Road harridans. I.Q.numbers on tenants are elastic but with Google showing 62 for the average aboriginal, white renters and staff should be happy with a 55 rating.

Intellectual activity is a danger to the building of character.Goebbels.

On Tuesday 25, October, I had a caller supposedly representing a sub-agent of a Queensland Government Department. My imagination-inspired ver batim report later. Cryptic bits; the writer, “With age I find my own company much more enlightening and preferable.” Response…”Dark duck.” Meaning? Googling not much help–but coming from his type of person, it wouldn’t be complimentary. The tag most likely applies to an abnormally introverted person, ie in police parlance, not a beer swigging yob to detain later for drunk driving; not one of the herd? Then definitely a potential axe killer in preparation, should get a martyr medal for picking this bastard. Explains his hesitant approach… These amateur, two week experts must fuck the lives of lots of good people. I’ve had a few nutty acquaintances over the years who took up various areas of psychiatry,” Why not capitalize on what you know a fair bit about,” was their collective attitude. A mature chap of brief acquaintanceship surprised me a couple of weeks ago me with that very same admission.

Went on another Google search for the current police logo. Found the wording to a site that had “To Harass And Collect” shut down–embargoed. We Must Be In Queensland. The Q&A went something like… Why …??? Self replied “So and so…” and on adding,” but I would need the best Conspiracy Theorist in the word to collude with me to explain it convincingly.” This comment followed… “We will go to your doctor immediately and organise a mental assessment.” His voice recorder has my words. His message encapsulated what this blog has been about; of my life since becoming a Queensland Public Housing tenant and its descent into an alien, unnatural, open prison type of existence. Add humiliation and despair. My indifference and ennui was soon replaced by a curiosity and a wish to confirm that the exposed vindictiveness and manipulation were not one-off, rare act of retribution, but on-going deeds of Machiavellian revenge.

Few academic Australians under fifty years of age would remember Hitler’s infamous propaganda minister, Goebbels, and how his name was as reviled as his Fuhrer, yet all Labor backroom propagandists a la Mike Kaiser, would have short stasi lives if they didn’t follow his dictum of repetition, “Tell the people a lie often enough and they’ll come to believe it.” The Bligh organization the most rapacious user of this less than subliminal message of reminding poor starving pensioners of their everlasting plight. I would like to believe she would win more general voting support if she opened these popular appeals by reminding welfare recipients that, despite the machinations of some rabid Queensland Housing operatives whose bias has led to bad deeds, it is not yet a criminal offence to think for themselves, that using common-sense is possible if the motives of Labor Government public servants can be monitored and corrected. The present Queensland Labor Party threatens obliquely if their mind-control fails. Click on Germany in the thirties.While the Welfare State has commendable attributes, the Nanny State is double talk for brain-washing and intrusion of suspected opponents.

The nanny-state mentality is stuffing Australia. It has stuffed the economies of those countries whose unctuous legislators have corrupted a once grand welfare concept for the false, feel-good theorem of instant gratification, not unlike the laziness that follows an acceptance of masturbation over the real thing or being satisfied with a rare poker-machine win. While the subject of aging and its consequences is anathema to commercial TV broadcasting, ABC TV conversation programmes like Q&A et al often feature the views and opinions of widely accepted interviewees who all stress the need, indeed the necessity of keeping the brain as stimulated and as tuned as the body should be. Active older minds are induced into a state ordered comatose condition, and working, still active minds of self-reliant oldies like the writer spits on Bligh’s rhetoric picture of life’s,”…hard done-by pensioners suffering deprivation,” surviving on cat-food, pitifully attired in rags seeking alms by rattling a rusty jam tin. Melodramatic violin straining heartstrings in the bare, cold attic where our poor little hands stay cold until summer’s zenith when the air-conditioner breaks down on cue. Don more socks or remove them to suit the climate. It works for me. I keep a late model Falcon in better than legal and safe condition, get regularly ripped-off by computer parasites, eat too well by utilizing the major retailers to my own advantage, won’t recognize fast-food establishments, last partaking of their overpriced and overblown product post-funeral in 1997.

Less resolute people capitulate to the never-ending mantra of Australian politicians. The rhetorical asks what is more repugnant or depressing than our Premier’s constant reminder to all welfare recipient of their gullibility. Will they ever get the message to get off their fat butts and help themselves? Greece is today’s model of Australia five years hence. Much sooner if primary exports fall over. Mandatory, State-enforced helplessness; compulsive compliance of nannyism is not helping the independence of conscionable oldies like me in conflict with a State Government which throws millions more into self-promotion. Throughout life Ive striven to sort-out my own problems, an early manifestation of the ‘trust no one’ philosophy. Being extraordinarily perceptive which means my shit detector was well-honed, that the bland acceptance of deceit as the template of the health industry easily persuaded me to avoid their practices and their practitioners. Savor freedom while it still exists. The word tyranny rings a bell. Is it Queensland-centric, I wonder?

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