“YEP. I’M CONFIDENT THAT I KNOW WHERE THIS DUMP IS GOING.”

John Cleese covered it yonks ago; something like – “Do not ever mention the war.” – as he goose-stepped their lunch to his German guests in ‘Fawlty Towers’.

To excessively belabour an almost expired horse – for the life of me I cannot figure why these people set up ‘fora-for comment’ when they get super crossgrained, then shitcan anyone who disagrees with their pet agenda.

If it upsets them that someone out there might vehemently disagree with them – then they should  make some other choice – maybe get their sorry arses down to the pub and drink ‘emselves crosseyed – perhaps stay home to suck on a couple of spliffs – or maybe just beat the living daylights out of ‘Freud’ their pet hamster.

But no.

Their fun is setting up all these ‘ah so controversial issues’ in cyberspace (most pinched from other sites) then waiting like the grim reaper to mow down any poor bastard who begs to disagree.

Ludicrous really.

“Free speech is the cornerstone of our democracy.” Or so they declaim.

Yet the second someone takes a bite out of their tailfeathers they instantly lose all aplomb, drop their guise and come out of their corner snarling.

Any half trained sociologist could spend a lifetime writing papers about this paradoxical behaviour (except, of course, in this present climate they’d never get funding or gain tenure with any of our ‘learned institutions’.)

Then again it does seem that the internet might well be a little more of a hollow shell than most might expect.

I’m reasonably confident that, (other than the padding to keep the lowlife happy) there is sweet FA out there by way of making knowledge available or reasoned discourse accessible to the ‘common man’.

In fact it has so often been mentioned when things become somewhat heated –

‘C’mon bastard – if I could get you out in the street, I’d bash yer’ – etc etc

Globalisation –

The berk rules these days.

Allegedly ‘wise men’ shitcan people who have taken hours to compose comment.

So giving up in sheer frustration our punter nips down to the local pub for a few tankards and some socialization.

Our lad lifts his glass, slurps down the first mouthful, and as he plonks his glass down on the bartop accidentally gains eye contact with the tattoed angry opposite him,over there.

“Whatt’re you lookin’ at shithead?” – asks the pug.

And then she’s on for one and all !

Nah, Mr. Passant (and the rest of your incestuous mates) you happen to be as rough, disputative and unimpressively common as any ‘bogan’.

So very little of this hate nausea used to happen when I was young and immortal and whenever it did – it usually ceased before anyone was badly hurt. (except down in melbourne, that is.)

So come on you bloody guru. What the hell is your answer?

PLACE A VOTE – FOR WHOM – AND WHY BOTHER

Compulsory, is it?

These floggers are what?

Preselected by the same sort of crims that support them?

So why bother?

Save us. How many have ended up in the courts in series after their own colleagues have shit on ‘em?

That ends this missive there.

Nothing else needs be said.

THOSE RIOTS IN SWEDEN DO NOT LOOK GOOD

When civil society collapses in a good gunrunning state like Sweden – then next week the same stuff might happen here?

Perhaps the ex-premier of nsw could deny that out of hand.

He’s pretty damned good at denying everything out of hand.

I wonder who’s going to pay his salary next year?

Or does the wingnut have that in his inventory?

Hah. Ambassador to Antarctica, maybe?

THE BRAINDEAD

Some many years ago a close relative of mine was employed by state government  in what he called,  the ’system’.

He was also a ‘defence reservist’ and on the strength of that was invited to attend a fed gov course ultimately qualifying him to become a ‘spook’ of some sort.

All very mysterious.

Except that he let out something I’d always deduced as a matter of fact.

Goes this way.

Australian society has been so completely sterile and utterly boring that stupid, vengeful, vindictive and cash short people tend to offer their services as stool-pigeons to the various police – for free.

There is the vector.

Nasty people want to dob in their neighbours – that sort of thing – for bugger all reason.

Just like back in Naziland.

But a buck is a buck and as I write this in this pathetic berg - I hear the sirens out there tonight.

So what is that game being played out – out there?

Are the sirens and the associated vehicles arriving at emergency situations?

Or is it just some payback against some neighbour – some poor overstressed burgher finally doing his block about the world of police condoned crapola coming into his private domain from them next door?

Sometime soon all this WILL have to be resolved.

We all live in a whiteant society where whiteants report back to dickheads who do not give a stuff other than to make use of information going their way  and all of that being provided by ignorant dolts.

Most of the trouble we have in advancing our society is caused by the pig-ignorant feeding such bullshit through to the braindead winners of raffles - those who pretend to be our masters at government.

WITH REGARD TO - Saturday, June 1, 2013 – SLAVE LABOUR –

Anyone with any sense of history could recall how the slaves – tricked out in their distinctive garb, were essentially ‘invisible’ to the masters and those in authority.

If they happened to be out there on the streets – then they must have been on some ‘errand’.

And so it has become lately in queensland. Conspicuity (those ridiculous flouro/day glo shirts and retroflective bands) has, by default, given those wearing that stuff an attribute close to invisibility.

Face it.

Any dickhead dressed like that, no matter how disreputable at first appearance could probably get on his mobile and call in a legion of his pals to sort you out -  if you were ever mug enough to demand why he was climbing out your neighbour’s window with her wide screen TeeVee, the rest of her electronics and her handbag clutched in his/her arms.

Interesting concept isn’t it?

Especially when they put on their flouro gear, hop in their jeeps and run some meth they’d been brewing the night before off to the mining camps.

Get what I mean – invisible. These turkeys are on some important mission !

Some of you probably have already met and been temporarily flummoxed by that scenario.

Others might have that sort  living next door, over the road, or just down the street.

Some like the retired copper just down the road – some like him just close their windows and pretend nothing is happening out there on his own patch.

What’s his name again?

Will Barkman? No, but something like that.

Then again, being a retired cop – he might be in on their game too.

Okay queenslanders. You lot work it out.

After this budget all of you will be shagged hollow.

Not so much by a government in desperate straits. More so by an immoral regime that wants your money to line their pockets – in exactly the same way the last lot of shiteheels did.

Think about that when you vote for the feds.

SLAVE LABOUR –

Back in the bad old days slaves were required to wear distinctive clothing so that any slave stepping out of line would be dealt with, with minimal fuss, immediately.

I don’t know what clothing the slaves in the other states of this failed democracy are required to wear but up here in queensland the slaves seem to be divided up into various classes.

The senior slaves (the trustees) seem mostly to wear dungarees with an orange shirt or jacket.

Sometimes the sleeves and trouser legs on the rig of the more important ones have these retroflective stripes.

The REALLY important ones get to wear a hard-hat and a dicky little vest that they may readily di-vest when they nip off to an important meeting or down to the pub.

The lower deck seem to wear a paler shade of lemon yellow or pale green and like with the armed forces the retroflective bands and bits are usually narrower and of a lesser quality.

Amazingly enough, there even seems to be an incredible number of ‘wannabes’ lurking the streets all hours of the day and night.

It has reached the stage that about two thirds of the male loiterers in our shopping centres are dressed (at least from neck to what passes for their waist) in some daggy, jack-cheap, canary coloured, polyester confection.

Frankly the illusion is utterly blown from beergut down with their daggy shorts and those rubber thongs on their gnarly feet.

I suppose, though, that it is a generational thing.

A generation ago their fathers used to nip down to the pub  at the crack of 10am resplendent in their string singlets, crosschecked Bermuda shorts, and those same toe jam blackened rubber thongs they’d graciously passed down to their favourite sons.

Okay. Only an observation.

But I notice the only women stupid enough to fall for this game are the likes of our female ‘politicians’.

But of course, they were those instrumental in writing up these stupid regulations in the first place.

Stupid?

Hell yes.

The brightest coloured parrots still get creamed by vehicles.

They still fly headfirst into plate glass windows and the odd tree.

And meanwhile so do our similarly pea-brained underclass.

All of which takes this person back to around about 1980 – writing a paper to the Australian association of surgeons about their intention to pull the same stunt with certain vehicles and their operators.

You guessed it fellas.

Motorcycles.

Which riders would have to wear all that crap that the slaves and wannabes are wearing now.

And Q-switched brakelights and God only knows what other crap by the time they’d finished gaining their ‘funding’(always about ‘funding’, isn’t it.)

So when I humbly asserted that children and rock falls, potholes in the road, balls bouncing across the street and Christ know’s only what else would somehow have to be somehow predicted, designated, then illuminated,  immediately discombooberated; then legislated against.

When I mentioned that THEY might have to pitch in and cover some of the massive expense themselves – was when they dropped their smartarsed game.

Maybe in Beattie’s/Bligh’s queensland they found a softer target  - and bags of funding.

This world is full of shiteheels and dupes.

Trouble is the dupes vastly outnumber the shiteheels – which does tend to make a complete mockers of trying to operate a reasoned, sensible, reasonable, civil society

“Believe me when I say that I look forward to their mutual destruction”

Now, why did I say that in the last?

A fit of pique, maybe?

Or was I doing my best to hint that what is pretended as being progress in our parliaments has been nothing more than a dogfight going on for decades now.

Stap me. Our parliaments are supposed to be our representatives.

Well they bloody well ain’t – and that’s a fact!

Nothing but raffle winners and useless bastards, the whole show.

And finally it is becoming to sink in – that is, if you punters out there can hold a grip on the concept.

Consider – these raffle winning bastards are supposed to be representing you – not their bloody minded tontine.

Okay. So what’s a ‘tontine’ then Ted?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tontine

But I’m sure even that won’t help any of you with the subtlety of what they are up to.

Like watching their ‘associates’ progressively get the chop in the ‘hurly-burly of politics’ – so that the survivors get to reap the profits over the corpses of their pals.

No?

Can’t work that out?

Didn’t think so.