“You have enemies? Good…! That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.”

 
The Monty Python skit on oldies is under rabid walloper end para 2. Appreciation to Gingerzilla for that. Tongue-in-cheek is an invaluable commodity. Yanks, I understand, are irony-blank.

And no, Laze and Gen of Queensland, before Bligh’s thought police return with reinforcements to cuckoo nest me for the heading of this story, I hasten to add the title came not from my disturbed, excessively introverted “black duck” mind, but from master tactician Winston Churchill a sufferer, with Stephen Fry, of a mental condition known as manic depression who, because his rarefied, untouchable pecking order offered some protection from Government nannies and do-gooders. Public housing tenants like the writer live in constant fear of impending mental incarceration for blog comments too close to the mark. The possibility of electric shock treatment and its permanent memory loss lie before me if authoritative Queensland threats are followed through. So, for the time being; I know nothing, see nothing, feel nothing, and hear nothing, so would you please pass the mushroom and forget the convulsions.

Earlier in the year, an unnaturally high number of ready to publish material went to cyber heaven minutes before it was to be edited. I have theories, imagined of course, which will get some attention later on. I suppose my mental retardation and general stupidity, blessed and normal in a non-public housing society, but condemned as dangerously reactionary in dissenters, caused my doco file to repeatedly crash. (Oh, really?) I urge other similarly affected people with vanishing text to use their email or dashboard draft folder for all writing. I’ve not lost a word since I had the idea. A reluctant doctor visitor, I went to an MD recently and left without an intro letter to a shrink, but this fellow lacks the confidence a two-week introductory course in psychiatry imparts on a rabid walloper in nutter recognition.

Medics diagnose and heal by numbers, or how many visits (bucks) their deep patient concerns can suck out of the gullible. Each and every one of Bligh’s commendable script-writers insist oldies are nuts who are tired and need help. If that’s the case, then I’m presuming the Federal Department for Mental Jobs reward States for their diligence in apprehending these hereto undisclosed potential axe slayers, especially those unpleasant thinking oldies given to using the internet to expose turds and their effect in Queensland Housing.

Remnants of Queensland’s notorious Special Branch tagged me a dark duck for maintaining blog attacks on two particularly accomplished and obnoxious stasi deployed for the time being with the Housing Department to displace an unwanted tenant. Bring down the opponent any which way is the whole deal and I will try to explain the system next post. A uniformed stasi inquisitor presented a convincing argument to quit printing anti-Housing thoughts. The generally accepted freedoms are passe in this State and those young marchers having picnic rallies really have no idea the depth of the devil.

I’d dearly like to hear what my 1960’s mates might have to say about the removal of hard-fought for freedoms. Throughout my blogs, I’ve stressed a 1984 emergence with Bligh’s mind-control methods of retaining the Treasury too extreme. You won’t hear a word of dissent from me though, the denouement of compulsory containment predicted in my story is like, ” Ah, Mr. Doppleganger, at last we meet.” Freedom Lost! The alternative to freedom is shame. My words have been my imagination. Following an enlightened conversation, I am now convinced that I should submit to stupidity for the present. Conspiracy Theory m.s. I can’t use names, or it’s, “Hi-ho, Hi-ho, it’s off to the zap factory you go.” my kicking-boy status frowns on thoughtful observations.

Mike Kaiser retaliates.

Tags: ...you sold me and I sold you.