Archive for the ‘Queensland.’ Category

Beaudesert’s Thai Restaurateurs on haunches fanning dew-laden fire.

July 2, 2017

A little bit of Thailand’s cafe culture, in Beaudesert smoking open garbage. A practice run at home.

One block from Beaudesert CBD.

Both images taken by hand-held Nikon Coolpix.

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Where the hell is Jim Pearson?

July 1, 2017

If the Courier Mail said it..!

July 1, 2017

Relatives! Who’d have them?

June 12, 2017

This is an unpublished post, a musing on finding the traitorous youngest sibling naïve and unaware of events as a result of spending her adult life as a naval pot-walloper.

The mother of Medusa loaded more unwanted trash onto me by way of photographs of her daughter’s second set of nuptials. The clear sparkling night lights of the river cruise reception couldn’t dislodge the unpleasant sense of turpitude that surrounded this most pedestrian of brides. I’m sure that even the acclaimed photographic skills of Cecil Beaton would have been extended in tarting-up the malevolent countenance of this daughter of a blood relative. Fearing a second glimpse of any of these shots could arouse the petrification god, I abandoned them on the kitchen table. A friend saw the images,”Gee, I don’t know about that one, love,” offered a frowning Tim recoiling from the visage, a harsh judgment from one usually too polite and discreet to offer personal opinions.

Within weeks of the travesty, the hapless groom eluded the Gorgon and eloped with paramour-in-waiting. The former serviceman had regained a semblance of self-respect and attributed his discriminatory error to delayed shock after witnessing decapitated Rwandan heads being kicked around in an impromptu football game by the victors. In time he’ll understand the futility of excuses and just enjoy the day. The pair had started banging at primary school so a decade on, via the curse of familiarity, he wanted out.

Normal young men automatically follow instinct and bed anything that moves, with whom a moot point and always more than ready for a bit of fresh, in any case. Boss-bitch’s insistence won the day of course and a marriage was announced, but his body wasn’t meant to be her toy. Wiser men have made observations about premarital sex and marriage and pouring sand on a well oiled machine and so forth. I understand the lovers share an affinity to this day.

Queensland’s Labor Governments. As indifferent to the people as the LNP.

June 11, 2017

Am not sure if this old post was used, but might do good to lift the lid, just a wee bit mind you, on the goings-on of Queensland’s Labor Governments. Have updated a point or two:

Was tuning into “Two And A Half,” when I got the last bit of ACA Thursday’s promotion on Housing Commission; their tactics or their attitude unsure of the point of the story, or missed relevant details. About the only visuals I got was of tenants hurling abuse. My experiences as a first time, but now of seven-year duration tenant, living in a three building, 12 tenant precinct, supposedly reserved for the over 55’s is now six years behind me. I stayed because I have had a life, am obstinate, but would have quickly sought decent accommodation had I been younger, in trying to avoid Labor’s unhealthy, poison generated, Housing environments.

I have never phoned Qld H.C. so am not a pest in that respect, but I know they lap-up and enjoy, “he said, she said” hate talk. Have sent a couple of faxes, won’t snivel and grovel to biased staff whose minds are set. They can’t see beyond their fifth column network.

I wrote the Premier’s Dept. after a trade foreman invited me to,”Shut up, you fucking poofter,” after I asked him to tone down his skylarking teenage employees. I had quoted verbatim to a female HC rental person (Silly Filly)

the foreman’s response, who turned on me like a snapping Taipan, then made official complaint my ‘swearing.’

Schwarten’s office was more concerned about the protocol of addressing a Minister, with the advisement future complaints about H.C. staff be addressed to that Department.

I began criticizing the Housing Commission and the Government via my site which had a purpose as a chronicler of H.C. improbity. Threw in a few private experiences in a forlorn attempt at proving my human status. Ping-backs show a wee bit of QBuild interest. People like me have to carefully weigh their words because public service paranoia fear the truth, and are well-practiced in destroying dissenters.

The next door, upwind tenant, bashed on his fly door and railing before first light at the caw of a crow. When questioned this noisy habit, he retaliated by chroming me at evening with air-freshener. Relations thinned. A senior HC rent woman dismissed my complaint, reasoning that Ryan’s longer tenancy made me the protagonist and he the hurt party.

Other grievances cropped up, mainly spent cigarette smoke making life miserable. “Just get out,” was the advice from a ps sniveler, Obrien, when I requested a flat far removed from second-hand cigarette smoke.

The CM used many of my cyber posts, but blackballed me when spent cigarette smoke and Housing were mentioned in the one paragraph. QBuild engaged in questionable maintenance practices and fellow tenants were advised by Woodridge Housing rental staff to give me a taste of Coventry.

site:lesjohns.wordpress.com

Les Johns.

http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/state-election-2010/revealed-how-the-alp-keeps-secret-files-on-voters-20101122-1845e.html#poll

“How often, or on what system, the Thought Police plugged in any individual wire was guesswork. It was even conceivable that they watched everybody all the time. But at any rate, they could plug in your wire whenever they wanted to.” — George Orwell, 1984

Whisky-A-Go Go and a subpoena.

June 4, 2017

The subject’s gone full circle so I toss my small effort into the pot.

I and a few newspaper mates were called upon to view the defendant and then decide if we had seen him on the night in question. We were taken separately to view a prison-bashed Stuart, securely strapped to a bed in the RBH mental ward for really bad crooks. His one glaring eye with it’s message of unabashed hate and rage would have done Robert Newton proud.

We were taken back to the old Supreme Court to give our evidence.

One block from Greater Beaudesert, the pulmonary battle on.

May 28, 2017

Thai Restaurateurs wait for heavy dew before lighting illegal backyard fires.
Engine cleaning is given the nod one block from Beaudesert Central.

Incident in Beaudesert.

March 17, 2017

A couple of weeks ago in the pre-rush a.m, I had occasion to be downtown in Greater Beaudesert where the proverbial cannon could be fired without hurting a soul. The early opening newsagency beckoned and with only one car out front, there was easy parking.

The mirror showed three cyclists in the ‘right turn only’ lane as I prepared to alight. The lead cyclist made a sharp swoop towards me as I stepped out. “The door, the door, the door,” the rider, with emblazoned club shirt screamed,” as he returned to the right turn lane and turned into Bromelton Road.

Evidently the classic do-gooder, do as I say, looking to fault anyone handy, reprimanding we presumed thoughtless drivers. This items’ forefathers would have prided themselves and felt justified when their kangaroo courts arbitrarily stretched the necks of innocents whose profile differed from theirs.

Retailer Pharmacists. As Ill-principled as the Medical Industry.

March 16, 2017

I presented early at Soul Pattinson, Beaudesert, first thing in fact, as the polite junior girl took the first of many mobile display units jamming the aisles to their places outside the shop.

“Can I help you,” proffered the senior shop assistant, as I neared the counter clutching my only reason for visiting such an establishment, a script needing filling.

“It’s the last repeat,” stressing the point, getting the jack of being told what I’m well aware of.

I sat down.

“Have you been here before,” she demanded, “I have that,” was my honest reply, surprised at the question, considering a few weeks before she had needlessly apologized for the short, normal wait.

“I’m not so important as to expect instant attention,” I had told her.

“Oh, but you are very important to us,” came the palavered reply

Minutes later the product had been taken from the shelf, re-stamped with my details, placed in a small tray and passed to the senior woman.

“That was the last repeat,” she echoed my words of a few minutes earlier.

“Am I so retarded that I’ve forgotten what I told you”?

“I’ve got to tell you that,” the comeback.

The previous visit I had had an amiable conversation with one of the proprietors about chemists’ penchant for claiming scripts as their property by wrapping them in their branded advertising and stapling together.

About that time, in the few metres between Woolworths and their shop, I had lost a gold ring and despite the futility of recovering such an item, had returned to the shop with my predicament. In other words, intelligent people would have remembered my presence.

Cash grabbing chemists look upon oldies as an assured and constant money source and like the rest of society, would prefer dealing with contrite, obedient non-thinking slabs of old meat.

Queensland Labor prefers dumbned-down followers who can’t think.

February 5, 2017

Qld Labor can’t think.

Buchholz gives “initial” $M3.5 to exclusive school.

Qld Labor;Liberal Lapdogs.

Australians can’t think…dumbed-down.

 

In the years preceding the 2007 Federal Labor walkover, Brett Raguse stood for anything that enhanced public awareness of his entity. At that time I was querying Qld Labor’s apparent disinterest in it’s own fate and wondered if a PR machine existed to defend the Party.

Labor had an information tent on market days at Beaudesert’s Dick Westerman Park, and I began chatting with its resident luminaries. The elected Ruguse was consolidating his image when I put to him the aggravating nature of a Viet vet, a dangerous psycho named Garvey who had been homeless forty years, now a neighbouring tenant whose “in your face” cigarette habit was playing havoc with my respiratory system.

A few days later, Raguse made headlines with the politicians favourite standby of defending Viet Vets who, “fought and gave their lives for our democracy,” denouncing those so intolerant as to find fault in trivial matters. To reinforce his defence of returned junkie Vets, he would join servicemen’s unions to better fight THEIR fight.

The under quote comes from an old piece I did at that time on how touchy can Labor be simply because of the limits of their own vision. And my question to the tent follower, Jason Whitlock that so convulsed him went like: “Every day The Courier Mail has at least four anti-Labor stories that are left to run their course and germinate, but are never denied or questioned. Why not”?

Keeping in mind that anti-Liberal sentiment lasted only one term and Liberal Bert van Manen regained for the Libs. The measure of the man is shown by Raguse’s career choice. You need to be morally bankrupt and essentially a con-man/people-hater to be in real estate, a choice that is greed driven and tailor-made for the Liberal mindset.

“Now while I had become acquainted with this lot by mutual, initially Labor-favoured  small talk well before Raguse made his seat runs, my comment so startled the boy Jason Whitlock, a minor apparatchik, that he produced an apparently ever-ready camera and asked me to pose with his lady-friend for a “matey shot.”

I did so without qualm, having  nothing to fear or hide, but the Labor Party had uncovered a dissident, and I was about to get a taste of their infamous mind games. Once an avid Labor voter, I seek now to support the candidate most likely to damage Queensland Labor Thugs.”


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