Tuesday, December 31, 2013



Oh Yeah. The truth then.
How about some truth now.

Might it surprise you that combat veterans after WWII, korea, VietNam, and all those horrid little engagements –
Might it surprise you that many, returning after surviving what outrage our ‘raffle winners’ have caused – had some trouble readjusting to civil society?

I mean, what the fuck are they supposed to do?
Take up midwifery, wood turning or basket weaving, for chrissakes?

As it happened, a fair few couldn’t handle the boredom – couldn’t afford an exciting lifestyle, either in the capitalist mould, or basket weaving .

So they decided to band together with, at least, the tag-end of something within their abilities which might offer them some semblance of fun and freedom.

Whatever the reason behind that choice – a fair number of the marginalized and disaffected of those generations decided to create motorcycle clubs.

I doubt very much that by doing this they intended thumbing their noses at ‘authority’.

Mainly because by then they had lost all respect for ‘authority’ and saw no need for any more bullshit in their lives.

For some strange reason ‘authority’ has an amazing problem with people who have lost all respect for them and the temporary tenure of raffle winners.

Yep, they, the politicians and their acolytes, are indeed parasitic sub-species feeding on misplaced adoration and exploiting other people’s energy and money.

It IS fact.
Ask anyone who pretends to represent ‘authority’ here in boganvillia and they’ll tell you in any of a thousand ways “sorry, I can’t help you”.

Tell that same ‘representative’, or his acolyte -“sorry, I don’t want your ‘help’, mr g-man” – and the bastard will hang around like a blue arsed fly – usually calling in ten or more of his mates to give you a hard time.

Here is the core of the issue.

It has often been mentioned in the literature that the ‘biker’ phenomenon – the one percenters – that sort of thing, have developed, from time to time, into a succession of criminal countercultures threatening mainstream society.

It is true that motorcycles are indeed a mode of transport that offers exhilaration as a reward for acquired skill and therefore is attractive to those who personally value those attributes and appreciate such skills among their peers; however the appreciation and application of such skills does not forge a criminal society.

Other, more learned commentators have researched the situation well enough to realise that without these intergenerational peer groups acting as a societal safety valve we could have seen at various times, during the last sixty/seventy years, mirrors of what happened in nazi germany.

Our learned ones have, in fact, noted several occurrences of somewhat dictatorial regimes succeeding and sometimes thriving without any involvement of ‘bikies’; often in result of bikies not being a particularly obvious sub-set in those societies.

A dispassionate study of pre- Borbidge queensland (it was about the time of his regime that increased importation of H-D and other large capacity vee twin motorcycles began) might reveal some interesting aspects of ‘middle management, command and control’ in both the public and private sectors.

While it cannot be denied that queensland once relied upon an especially wretched form of pure nepotism to supply the dump with its quota of lords and masters; a situation arose where the traditional, overprevileged school-bully type required reinforcement.

Of course, the majority of this sort became noticed at school and college because they were ‘good at games’ – character building, hey, what?

And back then the schools and colleges were the focal point for character building games.
Consequently, the prize dolts of empire mostly went to school and while they engaged in games on the playing fields and later at night in the dormitories they mostly, at least, learned to read and write.

All of which was well and fine: an unsophisticated populace, eternally being shoved and dicked about by a public service of about the same level of sophistication as those who arrived with the First Fleet.

Then, as mentioned above, during Borbidge’s regime – at about that time the Harleys began arriving here in volume – there was a salient change in sport.
Those who played ‘serious’ games became ‘professionals’.

In other words overnight they became overpaid – were driven this way or that by petty sports politics.
They needed to resort to ‘performance enhancing drugs’.
Their personal values and ethical standards slumped below traditional sportsmanship (one could assume in result of the pressures they were under).
In no wise were they any different from their equally institutionalised predecessors in not being averse to a spot of bar-room fisticuffs, the odd gang-bang, or quiet pack-rape.
But these days (and here is the big question) can any of these cunts write, read, or reason some document placed under their noses?

And yet this dump is filling middle management with this sort once they’ve reached their use-by-date in ‘sport’. The practice continues – but the ground-rules have changed under their somewhat blistered feet.

Meanwhile, the boganvillia polis farce have been actively recruiting pork from south africa - no longer welcome in south africa.

Okay. Who the hell would want pigs that had been sacked in south africa, then?
Is that such an unreasonable question?

All this is a matter of public record.

In other words – compartmentalise, disenfranchise, and suppress our veterans, the societally disinterested and those slightly disaffected and just round ‘em up for giving some expatriate, psycho, south African coon-basher the well-deserved finger of scorn – or for giving some superannuated rugby player nothing more than the good old ‘California Howdy’.

But only if they happen to ride scooters; eh, mein fuhrer.

Hey, fuhrer – its new year’s eve. I can hear ‘em out the front.
They aren’t on motorcycles and it isn’t yet 9.00pm.

But I can assure you that they already sound reeling drunk, off their tiny faces, or both.

So tell me, mr.fuhrer – who the hell of your team can I call on to help me protect the lives and property of MY family when it all goes pear-shaped again, out there tonight?

Why do you prefer to continue and escalate beattie's policy of recruiting psycho goons from failed states overseas when we have an overabundance of blokes looking for your sort of work here?

Most homeborn boganvillians would much prefer to be intercepted at gunpoint by some equally homeborn crazed, tattooed loonie riding a police motorcycle - rather than being shot out of hand (for running an amber light) by some imported mercenary riding a police motorcycle.

Come on fuhrer newman - it really is a bad look.
And one day very soon you will be a private citizen again.
You will then be an elderly private citizen in the world you have created.

Cause and effect.

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