the heat is on

Comrades,

The Miracle of Democracy is certainly hotting up here in the Canterbury-Bankstown local govt. election campaign.
The heat is on.
Thanks to the wacky Earlwood Environment League, we now have more of an idea of just who this Jennifer Azzi is.
Jenny, you'll remember, is heading up the three person ticket for Our Local Community [noamalgamations@gmail.com].
The EEL's have managed to get hold of her handwritten nomination form lodged with the NSW Electoral Commission [hey, you've got a leaker in there, guys!]
And an enlightening read it is too...

A high school teacher?
God save her students.
A Bachelor of Arts/Bachelor of Education degree awarded to someone who is more or less illiterate?
God save the whole goddamn edookation system.
Whatever happened to "Teacher's College"?
Jeez, Jen, who's foolin' who here?
What a strident, magnificent voice yours will be on council for the long suffering rate-payer.
Are you a stooge?
Surely this Our Local Community mob must be a front for One Nation, on the grounds of the utter dunder-headedness alone.
Labor is running an all female ticket headed by Clare Raffen on a predictably Pinko agenda of anti-over-development, stop privatisation of council services, save parks, gardens & sporting facilities from capitalist thieves, supporting our multicultural community et al.
Nothing unusual there, and of course, all very worthy.
The Liberals and the Greens tickets are yet to be heard from, not a hide nor hair seen of them at this stage, so only the Gypsy knows what they'll be on about...and the election is ten days away.
It's clear they are spending no money on the :"campaign", perhaps they're in this only as token runners, now knowing there are no dark horses in the race.
Why bother really, when in a rock solid working-class district, Labor will always have a majority on council?
Seem to remember an old saying that went along the lines of "people get the politicians they deserve".
Joy.

"Where Interesting Happens"

Comrades,

With complete political idiocy on display on both sides of the vast Pacific Ocean, who knew that I am required to go to the polls in a little under three weeks?
Crikey!

The folk at Ancestry Dot Com are making a fortune selling dodgy DNA testing kits in Canberra, as pollies don't usually queue up at the Registry Office of any country, let alone inquire as to where their grandparents used to call home through OTC.
Dual citizenship, anyone?
Haven't I've been through all this before?
And I still haven't heard of any particular concern about s.44 of the Constitution; there is no great push for change there.
Anyway, everyone knows what happens when lawyers and High Court judges become involved, interpreting extremely fine detail of Constitutional Law in a case that, to most people, seems to be as clear cut as black and white.
Pardon the pun.
If that's not enough, something that doesn't need a referendum to fix and can easily be sorted out by an Act of Parliament now becomes some kind of $122M [plus variations] "postal survey" asking enrolled voters a vague question about whether or not those perverted poofs and lezzo's should be allowed to no longer live-in-sin, to be run by the Australian Bureau of Statistics, the same mob who made the recent Census into a world-class cock-up, you remember, those people.
And good ol' Australia Post are apparently in charge of deliveries, after getting away with reducing the standard of service while jacking up the price of stamps.
Crazy.
That's no VOTE.
Where's the Miracle of Democracy in that?
Are these Tories right outta their brains?
Some kind of weak half-hearted joke at taxpayer's expense?
Haven't I've been through all this before, and still they bark on about it like rabid dogs?
I mean, really, can someone please just tell me what the faark is going on?

First thing I knew about being told to go to the polls was when a card that looked like it had been printed by the bloke who prints schmick slick real estate agents cards telling me to VOTE 1 JENNIFER lobbed in my letterbox.
Ah yes, the NSW Local Govt. elections are on, amid the hue and cry of the recent amalgamation of local councils which instead of the mad Tory intention of cutting red tape, actually increases ridiculous duplication.
Jennifer Azzi is from "Our Local Community" at noamalgamations@gmail.com.
Enough said.
Then, nothing more in the letterbox.
When the local Canterbury City Council was forced to merge with Bankstown Council by the former Premier Vile Mike Baird, they sacked everyone at the top and put in an unelected Dictator, officially known as an "Administrator", to run the show with the promise of elections in Sept 2018!
Hang on...almost two years without any democratic representation at all sounds a bit dodgy to me.
So, the elections were fairly promptly moved forward to Sept 9, 2017.
In one of his first jobs, The Administrator took out an ad in the local papers and put out a suggestion box, asking for ideas on a snappy new slogan for the newly merged council.
It seems my contribution of "If anyone can ban it, CanBan Council will!" didn't make the cut or was simply ignored.
"Where Interesting Happens" was announced as the winner, after being vetted by a mob of highly-paid PR types over a very long pissy lunch.
Fingers down yr throat territory there, no?
Anyway, one of the two local rags boasted that the newly merged Canterbury-Bankstown Council had a "population as big as Tasmania!".
Well, not quite; there are about 385,000 people in my district, and counting, while Tassy struggles to maintain a population of half a mill.
Still, no more flyers.
So, a quick look at the publicity-shy NSW Electoral Commission's list of candidates for the Canterbury Ward, reveals that its been a stitch-up.
Everyone knows that the area 'round here is rock solid Pinko, so they'll just divide up the seats on Council in what is effectively a multi-seat constituency, and Labor will always have a majority.
So the choice we get at the polls are VOTE 1 JENNIFER and the two bozo's on her ticket, three Greens, three Liberals and three from the Labor Party.
No lunatics, space cadets, extremists, god-botherer's or nut job independent candidates at all.
None.
Just four tickets of three candidates each.
That's it.
The preferences have already been clearly rigged.
Simple.
Gotta be happy with that.
Done deal.

Meantime, on the other side of the "endless" Pacific, the continental United States has been plunged into darkness by a total eclipse of the sun while the DJ Trump! presidency continues to crumble before our very eyes as he punts his Chief Strategist while making inflammatory remarks about some rioting someplace.
Nothing wrong with a good riot in the Land of The Free, but that Stephen K Bannon bloke; jeez - a nasty piece of work from the off.
Just look at him.
Not satisfied with that, Trumpy then sacks all of his business advisory boards as the country's CEO's announce will have nothing to do with the Trumpotus, after they didn't buy his hair-brained one trillion dollar infrastructure package.
No siree.
Who needs 'em anyway as DJ! knows everything there is to know about business.
However, a little birdie is singing that The Donald may now be beginning to look for a way out of a bad deal [i.e. being elected President] when it all goes pear-shaped and the fecal coliform covered fan starts to really fling turds back at him - done it before, can do it again - like, say, sack Special Counsel Three Sticks looking into them pesky Ruskies, and then promptly resign the Presidency, so no-one's got nothing on him, nothing at all, then return the keys to the Oval Office to the Grand Old Party, go to home to Trump Tower in Manhattan and in a very worst case scenario, lean on Mike Pence for a pardon down the track, but only if required.
You might be thinking "in your dreams", but stranger things are happening.
Done deal.

And who knew that across the Tasman Sea, our cuz in New Zealand will be gripped by the Miracle of Democracy when they go to a general election on 8 November?
In a brave move, the Pinko's in the NZ Labour Party knew they were a country mile behind in any run for the Beehive, so their leader Andrew Little [not a great name for a Leader of The Opposition anyway] graciously fell on his sword 22 days ago in favour of another one of those so called "rock-star" politicians with charisma, brains, and talent - or so they say - in the form of their Deputy Leader, Jacinda Arden, who's just turned 37.
Never mind that a rock solid trade union man like Little is toast at age 52.
Plus, Arden looks presentable on the television by all reports [I've never seen her on the telly] and is always good for a quote to keep the press happy.
NZ Labour's popularity has shot up from a very low base, and Jacinda's been described as a "young Bernie Sanders" [who is an agrarian socialist if there ever was one]; she is also sometimes mixed up in the press as a "young Jeremy Corbyn in reverse" and some tabloid fishwraps have even gone so far as to say that she is on the verge of creating a wave of "Jacindamania!".
Woot!
New Zealand has the most stable democracy in the South Pacific, has for a very long time.
They don't churn through Prime Ministers like we do, but that could, might, but only perhaps, change.
Who knew that both sides can still play this populism game?
Done deal.

Only in the Land of The Long White Cloud.

going to water

Comrades,

Lord Almighty.
How weak are the Tories?
Weak as gnat's piss, that's how weak.
The five 'rebel' Liberal MP's; a mob of complete unknowns in the form of The Hons. Trevor Evans, Dean Smith, Tim Wilson and Trent Zimmerman, as well as the always colourful Warren Entsch for good measure, threaten to take a proposal to the party room to amend the Marriage Act by a free vote of Parliament to enshrine 'gay marriage' in the legislation.
Simple, you would have thought.
There was bolshy talk of "crossing the floor" and getting the [non] issue out of the way before the next election so as not to distract the disinterested electorate.
So what happens?
With a Prime Minister beholden to the alt right - read fascist - fundamentalist faction and other sundry God botherer's in the majority of conservative ranks, the 'rebels' couldn't get the numbers and immediately go to water, and settle for something called a "non-binding voluntary postal plebiscite", something which resolves nothing at all, and has never before, as far as I am aware, been attempted in the history of the Commonwealth.
A postal plebiscite?
WTF?
A bureaucratic nightmare for the Electoral Commission at the very least.
Has anyone noticed the price of a postage stamp these days?
As of June 30, there were 15,882,788 enrolled voters in Australia.
That's a helluva lot of taxpayer's cash, even if they can get a bulk rate off Australia Post.
First, legislation needs to be passed to allow for the the plebiscite to he held [which has a snowflakes chance in hell of getting through the Senate away, just like the original Liberal election promise of a vote at the polls], then it needs to be conducted at enormous expense, but then when happens?
Anyone's guess.
Not a Tory seems to have thought that far into the future.
The only thing that is clear is that the whole debacle has yet again seriously damaged Malcolm Trundle's already fatally wounded leadership.
Uncle Bill Shorten doesn't even need to say or do anything while the Tories implode.
The latest opinion polls suggest that the 'issue' is of little interest to most of the electorate and a "Yes" vote would easily get up by simple majority in all of the six states, as it would in a free vote in the Parliament.
For fuck's sake people, just get on with it; the law can be changed with the stroke a legislative pen.
End of the matter.
As an aside, I may get a little controversial here, but why gay people would want to get married in the first place has always been a mystery to me.
Why would they want to embrace the most conservative of social institutions?
Marriage is in serious decline in the heterosexual community, and is increasingly unpopular for many reasons among the millenials and yuppie scum, who much prefer more flexible personal living arrangements such as "living in sin".
I have discussed this with gay friends of mine, and most of them are similarly perplexed.
Of course everyone agrees that gay people should by rights as citizens be afforded the complete set of rights now currently available to heterosexual de-facto couples, including succession and proxy rights and the legal recognition of the children of such unions and so on, but marriage?
My friends say there will be then be, ipso facto, the unforeseen consequence of 'gay divorce', and all the unnecessary unpleasant consequences of that; everyone knows what happens when lawyers and the Family Court become involved.
A fervently Pinko gay mate of mine even went so far as to say to me "What ever happened to gay pride, for chrissake!? For me, being gay always used to be a point of difference, a refusal to conform, a matter of pride that we live our lives in a different way that suits us, not them. Why do we want to get involved in all that hetero shit just to be seen as "normal", to somehow "fit in", to be accepted into the mainstream, which we are clearly not a part of, never have been, never will be, and for me, never want to be?"
A very good point, and an argument that's been going on in the gay community for a good while...this, just as a purely random example, is six years old now...


https://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/gays-against-adam-and-steve/

eight resident goats

Comrades,

Of all the lies, obfuscations, recusuals, allegations of unlawfulness and illegality, administrative chaos, a creaking, leaking bureaucracy, the goddamn proliferation of fake news, inquiry's into inquiries, tweet, tweet, tweet, the vomit-making moments, interfering in other people's shit just for the fun of it, for a start off -- and the endless parade of colourful smart operators and spectacular bumbling fools coming out of DC in the last few months, little wonder everybody talk 'bout The White House.
So it's comforting to see just about the only recent thing in The Free Press that approaches the truth of the matter come from a sports magazine, with a first class essay with impeccable sources on how the POTUS DJ Trump! approaches the game of golf.
There is no doubt at all that The Donald is a very good amateur golfer, would probably play off a handicap of "eight or nine" on most good golf courses, but of course, that is still not good enough for him.
He's had plenty of practice, and he will not be defeated by the game.
But the Pres., well, he knows in his own mind, and the people's mind, that he's No.1, so why try harder?
He is the "richest best golfer in the world", or is that "the best richest golfer in the world"?
It doesn't matter how long it takes.
Trumpy will go to any length at all to play every trick in the book to break, bend, and shape-shift The 28 Rules of Golf [plus the contentious rules 29-34 + "local rules" + the "Etiquette"] to produce a better score, and even then some of his best scores have doubtful provenance.
To be the golfing partner of DJ Trump! must be an absolute nightmare with all that endless commentary.
So hats off to Sports Illustrated for a very clever analysis of the way The Leader of The Free World behaves...

http://www.golf.com/tour-news/2017/08/01/president-donald-trump-relationship-golf-more-complicated-now

You'd have to hope that The Donald's left his phone at the White House after going on a "17-day working holiday" at Bedminster, NJ, to commune with his "eight resident goats".
It's so nice there at this time of year, they say, he's even arranged to be buried at the joint, for chrissake.
Lord, save them.

Photo: B.Smialowski—AFP


"If you wish to hide your character, do not play golf"
P.Boomer
"golf is a good walk, spoiled"
M.Twain [alleg]
"Is golf a dying game?"
FOX5 (Las Vegas) 2014

born in the Land of The Long White Cloud

Greens ning-nong #1

Greens ning-nong #2

Comrades,

Gawd, this mob of Green Senators are dead-set ning-nongs, aren't they?
First it was the Senator for NSW, Lee Rhiannon - who is an interesting piece of work, has form, and a long history in the dark arts in the NSW Parliament - who gets thrown out of the Greens' party room for daring to suggest she might think about not backing a sleazy deal with the Govt. on something-or-another, as if it's some great schism.
But really it's all about the strong NSW Branch attempting to tell the thick-witted National Executive what to do.
Oh no!
Out you go, we are the Federal Greens, and we are entitled.
You have to sometimes wonder if they have more than a sole existence for being, when in fact the Greens have sunk from the high's of the Great former Senator B.Brown of Tasmania's days into a mire of their own making; unreformed Trot tree-hugging yuppie flip-flops who would struggle to rustle up a policy platform on anything between all nine of them.
And then comes along the Senator for Western Australia Scott Ludlum who somehow kinda forgot that he had dual Australian/New Zealand citizenship and was therefore prohibited from sitting in the Parliament.
Christ on a bike!
He was born in the Land of the Long White Cloud.
Fleeing across the Tasman at age three is a fairly poor excuse.
s.44 of Constitution is, on first reading, as plain as plain can be on this one.
The founding fathers threw in another "race card" there, fully intending to keep any feelthy foreigners out of the hallowed halls of power.
Can't have these appalling sub-humans with their mits on the levers, oh no siree.
It was the dawn of the White Australia policy, "yellow scares" - too many ching-chongs in the country after the Gold Rush, and Kanaky all over Queensland slaving on sugar plantations, that sort of thing.
See the now repealed Immigration Restriction Act 1901.
The Constitution still graciously invites New Zealand to be part of the Federation, but until such time as they accept the offer, they can't sit in Canberra.


44. Any person who -
(i.) Is under any acknowledgement of allegiance, obedience, or adherence to a foreign power, or is a subject or a citizen or entitled to the rights or privileges of a subject or citizen of a foreign power___shall be incapable of being chosen or of sitting as a Senator or a member of the House of Representatives.


Never did get the idea behind dual citizenship, anyway.
What is it good for, apart from a passport dodge?
What useful purpose does it serve?
You are either one thing, or you're not, surely?
So, of course, there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth among some Greens as Senator Ludlum was forced to promptly resign from the upper house and apologise to all and sundry for being a complete & utter eejit.
Nine years on the public payroll, he was.
Nine years.
If you were him, you'd have to be worried that someone would go you under the little known s.46 of the Constitution:

46.
Until the Parliament otherwise provides, any person declared by this Constitution to be incapable of sitting as a senator or as a member of the House of Representatives shall, for every day on which he so sits, be liable to pay the sum of one hundred pounds to any person who sues for it in any court of competent jurisdiction.


As far as I know, the Parliament has not otherwise provided.
That sent everyone rushing in a mad scramble to check their family trees, to make sure there were no niggers in the woodpile to surprise them in the dead of night.
But, wait, there's more.
Then the Senator for Queensland Larrissa Waters finds out that she forgot that she has dual Canadian/Australian citizenship; only now vaguely remembering something that her parents told her that she could opt to be both Canadian and Australian at the age of 21, and would automatically be regarded as being so, but she didn't do anything about opting out of the Canadian option.
Didn't occur to her, or anyone else for that matter, during the whole six years she's been sitting the Senate.
Six years.
Lord, help us.
That is no less than four Senators who have now resigned in the term of this Parliament after being found out under s.44 since Trumble's debacle of a Double Dissolution that produced an even more hopelessly fractured Senate when the whole exercise was designed to keep the riff-raff out of the joint.
Give me strength.
Just ask Bob Day [bankrupt] and Rod Culleton [convicted crim] what they got up to last week.
I'm sorry, Scott & Larrissa, but I'm not sorry.
Tell me one highlight of yr now in tatters political 'careers', just one will do.
What a rag-tag bunch of charlatans.
Really?
The law is the law.
The Miracle of Democracy is not that hard, stupid.
I'm speechless.

the fighting is over now

Comrades,

It's more than a year ago now that I bemoaned the senseless destruction of the world famous Aleppo market, a UNESCO World Heritage Site - by far the largest covered ancient market in the world - the magnificent thing was thirteen kilometres long; building started in the 15th century and was more or less completed in the 17th; jammed packed with many thousands of shops selling everything under the sun that you could possibly imagine.
The fighting, that should never have happened, is over now, but the Old City of Aleppo lies in ruins.

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-12-13/army-drone-footage-shows-destruction-in-old-aleppo/8114558

A staggering crime.
It is by far and away Obama's biggest regret of his Presidency; doing nothing about Syria when he was given the chance.
It "haunts" him.
Little wonder.
No-one won.
37 thousand dead in Aleppo alone, out of 400,000 nation-wide, and who knows how many millions of refugees.
By any measure, it is truly a modern day catastrophe on a grand scale.
Pointless.
Appalling.

And yet, amid the rubble of war, the indomitable human spirit emerges in the most unlikely ways:




Bless.


Photo: Zein Al Rifai/AFP.

DJ Trump! at the G19

Comrades,

Must say I was rather disappointed in the 2nd World Tour by DJ Trump! compared to the 1st World tour.
No huge cheering crowds for the POTUS this time, hardly even bothered for autographs - [something must be going terribly wrong when he's no longer No.1! on the hit parade] - and somehow even managed to duck some photo opportunities, putting his daughter Ivanka in the hot seat instead, when she by protocol should have been on Mr Merkel's Magical Mystery Tour for G20 spouses and children.
First stop was a brand spanking new whizz-bang Climate Change Centre that the Germans reckon is world class.
Maybe she's not interested in that?
Jolly afternoon tea parties, perhaps?
Or maybe selling her line of shoes into the EU is of more importance?

Of course, the Trumpotus started the tour in Poland, where they have a long history of loving US Presidents to bits [they loved Jimmy Carter the best, and even liked Gerald Ford], but The Donald couldn't attract a full house to his concert to explain to the Poles that Civilization was in danger of being ruined, by whom, he did not know, except that they must be very bad hombres and they certainly wouldn't be Poles, oh no siree.
The Donald says they're the best people in the world.
I don't know what the Polish phrase is for the English expression "big whoop".
I found it a little strange that hearing that everyone's been talkin' about Korea, that there was barely a word mentioned about Fatboy Kim, who insists on not playing nice by setting off a bloody big rocket up and down and into the Sea of Japan [only problem is that The Bomb in N.Korea is still way too big and and way too heavy to be carried as a warhead on an ICBM. The might have The Bomb, but they are yet to work out the trick of miniaturisation. Could take them years.]
I think all that DJ Trump! said about it was that he expected the Japanese to be somewhat upset about it.
China, sensibly, ducked their heads, and took a very low profile.
Hardly heard a word out of Xi Jinping.
But the Leader of the Free World did make a bee line straight for the Mexican president when he arrived in the fair city of Hamburg, telling him that Mexico would "absolutely" [read "very definitely"] be paying for The Wall, to which Señor Enrique Peña Nieto replied "well, you can go and shove that idea clean up your arse, Big Boy, and, by the way, you need to lose weight. Too many American hamburgers. Want a taco bowl instead?"

No one really knows if My Mate Vlad has met DJ Trump! before.
The Donald can't seem to remember whether Ol' Putes turned up at a Miss Universe contest in Russia or not - he thinks he did and "it was great" - but the sneaky rusky aint saying.
But it appears that the Leader of the Great & Glorious Russian Empire had seen this bloke before, by the way he looked at the POTUS and went straight for the handshake with his hand on top to avoid it being crushed by a meat mallet.

Still, after a free and frank exchange of views, the only thing they could agree on was to better define the Rules of Engagement in Syria, to prevent each other's warplanes being shot out of the sky if they intruded on each other's air space, which had already been worked out by the diplomats behind closed doors in the first place.
Brilliant work there, Don.
What about the poor suffering children?
Let's leave that to the United Nations, eh?
But perhaps the hero of the hour was that old Christian Socialist from Luxembourg, Jean-Claude Juncker, who suggested that if the US wanted to impose a tariff on EU steel imports, then the EU would simple retaliate by slapping an equivalent tariff on bourbon, which accounts for about the same in the terms of trade.
Simple.
How'd making bourbon become unaffordable in Europe go down in the Trump heartland as thousands of distillery workers wide are thrown out of their jobs in a desultory fashion without so much as a German sausage and the company losses start to pile up?
Not too well, you'd expect.
Always thought Wild Turkey was too expensive anyway.
"If you want to be petty about it, we can mess with your booze and see how you like it" was a fair translation of what Juncker said.
So, that was the end of that.

I don't think in the end that the whole shooting match conference ever released a joint communique because with DJ Trump! wasting the space he occupies no-one could agree on anything of an any import at all.

It'd all be enough to drive a man to drink, as it's all becoming beyond a joke.
The Pundits are saying that the G20 should now be re-named the G19, on account of America's increasing irrelevancy on the international multilateral stage, with the Free World now ruled by a policy-vacant, stupid-as-shit and as dumb-as-fuck psycho who's a determined, complete and utter, enrvionmental vandal, among many other things.
At age 71, it don't mean a thing to him; he won't be here for 'end of days' as the planet is smothered by our own crapola.
Couldn't give a blue root.
So that'd leave Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, France, Germany, India, Indonesia, Italy, Japan, South Korea, Mexico, Russia, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, Turkey, United Kingdom, and the European Union in the diplomatic mix, as the USA casts itself adrift, and vanishes into the vortex of stoopid isolationism; poor, broke, and busted.
Everywhere else?
Boomin' baby.
Just boomin'.

Craves.

PS. It was pleasing to see Hamburg turn on a first class riot for the occasion with protestors throwing rocks at the police who responded with tear gas, rubber bullets and water cannon, against some fairly solid resistance by the demonstrators, while "gangs of masked anarchist yoofs" went about torching expensive German cars and Gov't offices, then looting an IKEA sore, stealing all their flat pack furniture and Allen keys, before setting fire to the joint.
Outstanding work, there.
Only in the Miracle of Democracy.

--

Photos: vetted by the German Foreign Ministry.

what happens when the arse falls out of oil

The Miracle of Democracy has gone to shit in Venezuela, that's if there was any real one in the first place.
Presidential supporters launched a surprise attack on the lightly-guarded Opposition-dominated Parliament with crowbars, sticks, stones and fireworks, leaving four injured and hundreds really scared in a seven hour Mexican stand-off.
A fantastic 206th Independence day in Caracas as President Nicolas Maduro simultaneously held a military parade with tanks rolling through down town.
The whole place has gone down the toilet politically and economically; gangs of yoofs battling the riot police daily, nut jobs stealing helicopters and firing grenades at the Supreme Court building, that sort of thing.
And it's no small thing either, no siree, about 90 dead over the course of three months of anti-Govt protests.
Maduro, with the backing of the military of course, is making a constitutional power grab, and will probably succeed, even though the joint is an uttter economic basket case.
A 400% annual inflation rate, smuggling and black marketeering are rife, and yet they are sitting on one of the largest oil reserves in the world.
Suddenly it becomes not a very nice place to live.
Daily violent death on the streets, wages become progressively worthless, foods in short supply, guns everywhere, and everything becomes unstable.
But, hang on, didn't the same thing happened during the "oil shock" some 30 odd years ago?
Never mind Maduro's aim of complete abrogation of any attempt at a Democracy - you need a Strongman.
The country has form, but nothing as bad as this.
That's what happens when the arse falls out of oil.

I remember how Hugo Chavez was very fond of donating huge quantities of free fuel oil to the poor and the pensioners of New York City to heat them through the bitter winters as long as it was clearly marked "Gift of Venezuela", so no money would ever change hands.
The Bush Boys hated it, shat them to tears, but they couldn't do a dang thing about it.
Looks like those days have well and truly gone away.
Dead, buried, and cremated.

Photo: The Associated Press.

it's official - baby boomers and old hippies completely off their chops

Common or Garden Pot-Bellied Piss-Suckers,

Even though it should have been declared lost a long time ago, the 'war on drugs' becomes increasingly futile as the population ages, and the income gap between rich and poor widens.
But how do you declare Peace?
There was a big cocaine bust in Melbourne the other day, http://www.sbs.com.au/news/article/2017/06/30/australian-police-disrupt-international-drug-cartel-7-men-arrested and the words falling from the lips of senior fed cops were arresting.
They were saying that because the stuff is illegal it's their problem, but people should wake up to themselves that they are being ripped off blind, with Australians paying some of the highest prices in the world for illicit snakey substances.
[It's well known that in salaries of $100K+, a "Sydney premium" is added to cover the ridiculous cost of rent/real estate and cocaine].
Have you seen the cost of a gram of coke lately?

http://www.havocscope.com/black-market-prices/cocaine-prices/

The cops said we should change our wicked ways forthwith, because we're obviously being targeted by some pretty nasty folk who can see a very sweet dollar in it.
Even Blind Freddy can see there's an 8,500% mark-up to be had there, even if you bought the gear at the source retail - at wholesale, the sky's the limit for the crims.
The cops also pointed to the fact that Australia, per capita, is the biggest illicit drug consumer in the world, and that we should get a grip and put a stop to that.
Is that right?
The entire world, the total planet?

http://www.smh.com.au/national/health/global-drug-survey-2017-finds-australians-are-the-biggest-bong-users-pay-most-for-cocaine-20170523-gwb2jd.html

[just by-the-by...the "ice epidemic/scourge/crisis/disaster" of course is a myth; super-speed being only the fourth drug responsible for ambulance call outs, behind booze, valium, and panadol, for fuck's sake. Smack has dropped off the map, because you can get all the opioids you like at the chemist shop].
The police more or less admitted they are out of their depth against the cocaine cartels; these people are ruthless and very clever - they have lawyers, guns, and money...and drones.
And yesterday, the Feds were not at all surprised to turn up $A1.6M in cash in a cheap suitcase while turning over a warehouse in Wetherill Park, as they were looking for something else:

Oops, no lines taken off the streets there.
Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place big time, and they know it.

In the meantime, while the conservative Yoof of Today are seemingly eschewing the pleasures of fine vintage red wine and fruity lexia goon, and declining to stick the cone in the boiling billy as much as they should be, spoiling the business model, us baby boomers and old hippies are choofing our heads off something stupid on the weed, and getting as pissed as, on a rather regular basis.
We lost interest in Temperance/Prohibition way back in the day.

"When we think about who experiences harm caused by alcohol, most people think about young people. However, Australian data show the rate of risky drinking among young people has been decreasing, while risky drinking among older adults has been increasing. The consumption of cannabis shows a similar trend."
https://theconversation.com/older-australians-drinking-on-the-rise-and-they-dont-know-the-risks-50660

Why does this not surprise?
No-one will thank my generation in the little history books, so we might as well forget all about it, leave it to our children, and just get completely off our tits; we're cashed up and we're entitled.
I've been saying for years now there will be big money to be made in the retirement villages and nursing homes of the future that offer hot tubs, an on-site bong room decorated with Bob Marley posters, and a fully stocked bar complete with quality top shelf.
Anyone know any venture capitalists?

the French goat vote

Comrades,

Well, well, well, at long last, the final definitive results are in.
President E.Macron of France has achieved a very tidy majority in the Chamber of Deputies, picking up 350 seats in the 577 seat Parliament.
It would have been even higher if not for the turn out in la 2er tour being at a record low [almost 58% of eligible voters couldn't be bothered with it] with the French being sick to death of the Miracle of Democracy after voting for seemingly months on end, which allowed all sorts of rabble-rousers and fruitcakes to come out of the woodwork.
They've got their man, and now Macron has a rubber stamp National Assembly to do with which whatever he pleases.
His principal aim of utterly destroying M.Le Pen worked a treat, with Front National coming last among the six main political groupings and getting only a minuscule eight seats [you need 15 to be officially recognised as a "party" and be eligible for extra funding].
That ol' root-rat and former Pres. F.Hollande obviously left a pox on the House of Socialism; the Pinko voters largely fled to Macron, although J-L.Mélenchon's communists managed to win 17 seats.
Here's the last map from the ever helpful French Interior Ministry...another poor fractured atlas...but it gives you an idea of the extraordinary sweep Macron has made of the countryside.
But, you have to like the tiny corner in the north near the border with Belgium where one constituency is crazed far-right, while the one next door is solid Commo.
And in Paris, one deeply Conservative patch somewhere up there in the 18th & 19th arr. is completely surrounded by rabid Reds.
How does that work?
How do they get on?
[note: click on image to enlarge]

In the lead up to the second round of the Parliamentary election, many pundits thought that punters would vote for a "donkey, goat or hippopotamus" if she/he/it/they were standing as a candidate for La République En Marche!

And so it turned out.
It is excellent to see a record number [223] of women elected to the French Parliament from all sides, many of them only in their 20's...here's the youngest...24 year old Typhanie Degois - the benjamine-elect [baby] of the Assembly - who is a fully paid up En Marche! member and will represent all the grumbling residents of Savoie there in the Alps next to Switzerland.
She's popular for the time being with the local papers, by all reports.

And Macron also had plenty of left-field candidates in the mix, including this MP-elect, "maths whizz" Cedric Villani - who at 43 is four years older than the President - and will represent the down-trodden folk of Essonne just to the south of Paris.
It's either a "what were they thinking?" moment, or that must be where all the wild & crazy dudes hang out, right?

Spooky.
Imagine him comin' at ya down the corridors of the Halls of Power?
With his get-up and credentials as a mathematician par excellence, he'd be the ideal candidate for the En Marche! party Chief Whip on the floor of the Assembly [not that Macron needs one with his majority!]
In the final paralysis, wiser heads have prevailed.
Go you good things.

world champion vote-buyers

Comrades,

I doubt there's a democracy in the world [apart from India, perhaps] where an exercise in the Miracle of Democracy takes three weeks - that's the election, not the campaign - but then you have our good friends in Papua New Guinea.
Since independence from an 'international protectorate' run by Australia in 1975, these folk have form, and plenty of it, when it comes to the vote.
In a country of nine million people [so there would have to be more than four million voters you'd think] the logistical nightmare in getting ballot boxes out to remote provinces and islands, where they'd be lucky to see anyone from the Govt. for months at a time, is a great mind-boggler.
How do they do it?
Given the stupendous terrain, for some folk it would be a walk of a day or two just to get to the nearest polling station, which surely must bring the "why bother?" factor in to play, even for people used to going everywhere by foot.
Then, getting the completed ballot papers back to wherever they are counted in a fair state of condition opens up another Pandora's Box altogether.
They have mastered the dark arts of a Westminster system that's ripe for any amount of hank-panky and jiggery-pokery.
They couldn't even agree when to start the vote, which was meant to happen on Sunday, but it was put off for a day, after complaints of ballot papers going all over the shop so some candidates were at risk of filling out their own, and then they called off voting in The Highlands on the Monday after some candidates were accused of being in collusion with electoral officials.
Never mind that many electoral officials are seen to be corrupt to the bootstraps, or the widespread gerrymandering of electorates, or the disenfranchisement of genuine voters for no apparent reason, and the puffing up of electoral rolls with "ghost" voters...it's all par for the course.
Nothing unusual.
Situation normal.
The Govt. has sent 1,000 heavily-armed troops with plenty of ammo to The Highlands just to make sure everything runs smoothly, when the polls eventually open.
It's well know that PNG politicians are perhaps the world champions of vote buying, with candidates vying with each other to see how many swine they need to deliver to a village to secure a clean sweep of the local vote.
Some don't even bother with that traditional method, and just straight-out buy votes - for good old fashioned cash money.
Tell me what's wrong with that?
Wish it happened here.
I'd be happy to sell my soul to the Devil if someone asked nicely.
So, it's comforting to know that the Melanesian Spearhead Group [MSG] has bought in former Solomon Islands Prime Minister, Sir Francis Billy Hilly, to head the team of international observers to make sure there is no vote-rigging whatsoever and that everything is all above board.
The election campaign has been variously described as "long", "lively", "rancourous", "turbulent", "bitter"...there are hundreds of candidates in the fray for the 111 seat Parliament, with most, it would seem, intent on ousting the immensely unpopular Prime Minister Peter O'Neil from power - he's seeking a second term in office - on the general platform of "vote the bastard out!".
O'Neil, you'll remember, carries an enormous amount of baggage as leader of the People's National Congress Party.
A few years back now, he was accused of siphoning off around $US30 from the public purse into his own back pocket and then slipping a few dodgy Australian dollars across to some of his best friends.
So what did he do?
In a "way ahead of his time" moment, O'Neil did a DJ Trump! and sacked the investigator - the police commissioner in charge of such investigations - along with a host of disloyal deputy police commissioners, and oddly enough, nothing has been seen or heard of it since; nothing at all.
Funny, like that.
But the whispering continues in the background as his opponents claim, by rights, that the dude should be in jail, but they can't pin the rap on him.
O'Neil also pulled off a bloodless coup back in 2011, putting troops on the streets of the capital, when the No.1 Big Man of PNG politics, Sir Michael Somare, who'd been going 'round for decades, started to call him all sorts of names and tried to usurp him as Prime Minister.
Now, that's form.
Ol' Pete certainly knows how to use strong-arm tactics, and he plays his politics dirty.
Blind Freddy can see that.
But there's still no shortage of mud-slingers out there prepared to call a spade a spade, crikey, even the 71-year-old Sir Mekere Morauta has been coaxed out of a quiet retirement to have another go in the seat of Port Morseby North West, because there is no-one else in PNG who hates O'Neil's guts more.
The Official Leader of The Opposition, Don Polye, of the Triumph Heritage Empowerment Party [an old mate of O'Neil's until there was just one too many almighty shitfights, followed by a terminal falling out] has a chance...but only if he can cobble together a rag-tag coalition of Moratu's mob, Sam Basil's Pangu Pati Party, those in favour of the People's Progress Party leader Ben Micah, and the whirlpool of myriad independent MP's with strong local followings deeply rooted in tribal factionalism and clan loyalty.
That's a lot easier said than done, in a country where political patronage is a way of life, a national sport.
It'll be a close run thing whatever happens, but things aren't expected to change that much.
Whatever the meaning of a 'free and fair election' is on the other side of the Torres Strait, it should always be taken with a grain of salt.
Still, you have to love the way Polye does his retail politics; sometimes you just can't get on the campaign trail without a helicopter:

Photo: Wanpis Ako

the consummate retail politician

Comrades,

Have you ever got a pad of 25 monogrammed shopping lists from your local MP?
I have.
Last week, the great Linda Burney, MHR for Barton sent me one.
Pearler of an idea.
Obviously, she found she still had a fair bit of the very generous "postal allowance" granted to members of Federal Parliament left over before the end of the financial year
So to her credit, she put it to good use providing something that's actually useful for the electorate, instead of the usual EOFY letter from the local member saying "Look at me! Look at me! Fark, I'm good! Just ask me!"
Instead, every time you go to the shops, there's her face and phone number on the list, just to remind you who's running the show in these parts.
And with complete assurance too, knowing that at the last Federal election, she won an already pretty heavily Pinko electorate in a land-slide, single-handedly turning Barton into one of the safest Labor seats in the country.
Go, you good thing; never mind that Linda is also the first Aboriginal woman to have ever been elected to the lower house - she is also the consumate retail politician.
During the campaign I would often see her standing outside my local railway station handing out how-to-vote cards and engaging in deep conversation with any punter who may have wanted to accost her.
She can talk the leg off a table; that's the truth.
Also appearing in my letter box was a Linda Burney monogrammed fridge magnet with a 2018 calendar on it, so the voters are able to look way forward to the future with certainty.
Every time they open their fridge door, there she is.
Who needs 'social media'?
Ahhh, the Miracle of Democracy...

point proved, mission accomplished

Comrades,

I note that Tory Tessa, having shot herself in the foot, leaves the country.
Where to, you ask?
Gay Paree, no less.
Not that wise you would have thought considering the ongoing tête-à-tête vis-à-vis following the disastrous British General Election; "while the cat's away, the mice will play", you know, that sort of thing.
To mix a metaphor, "the sharks are circling", Madame PM.
Of course E.Macron has been the complete gentleman about it all, hosting her at a 'working' dinner at the Élysée Palace to gently thrash out some moot points over a glass of thumping good claret, before popping on over to Stade de France for a footy match.
A friendly one.
The score?
Appropriately, France 3 England 2.
On matters of more import; said it before, say it again - E.Macron a political novice? What complete and utter poppycock.
He knows exactly what he is doing.
Came up with this crazy dream of an idea, now called La République en Marche, a year ago, to everyone's surprise, except himself.
E.Macron knows damn well he was born to be Président de la République, he just needed to pick the right time - so he went early, with the sole aim of destroying M.Le Pen at the ballot box.
Appealing to the French sensibility of comfortable stability, he did that with ease, and the day after he was elected as the No.1 Boss Cocky, what does he do? - goes straight back into campaigning mode for the election of the Assemblée Nationale, with the aim of further grinding Front Nationale into the dust and rubbing their faces into it, which he proceeds to do in a landslide to end all landslides.
Apart from the intractable rustbelt of the north, and the odd Commo enclave, it's pretty much a clean sweep.
Not happy, Marine?

After the 2er tour, En Marche is expected to take between 415 and 445 seats in a 577 seat parliament.
Talk about an absolute majority!
Never mind the lowest turn out at the polls since 1958; the French have got their man, and they're suffering from election fatigue.
M.Le Pen is expected to be elected to what is now a "rubber stamp" Chamber [the first time the far-right lunatic with extensive baggage has been elected to anything at all], but the fascists are tipped to wind up with no more than one to five seats...that's not even a rump party, you need 15 seats for that...that's annihilation followed by exile into total political irrelevance.
E.Macron's point proved, mission accomplished.
Now Le Kid, the "man of the people", can just get on with it, while the British Prime Minister would be well advised to keep her Tory mouth shut.

if you want a friend in Westminster, get a dog

Comrades,

Theresa May note to self:

"There is no such thing as 'friends' in Northern Ireland; if you want a friend in Westminster, get a dog".


You'll need one Tessa.
You have no 'friends' left in the Conservative party.
In one fell swoop, you've managed to destroy their guaranteed three-year majority in an entirely unnecessary election, putting party above state in a naked grab for power, which we now know backfired in an awfully spectacular fashion.
Never, ever, underestimate the electorate's ability to see straight through you.
She's managed to turn the House of Commons into an ugly unwieldy outrageous uncontrollable rabble.
If there's one thing the Tories don't do it's get angry; they get furious.
To say that Tory Tess is a "dead woman walking" - as no less than five serving Ministers of the Crown have said in private over the Queen's Birthday long weekend - is a serious understatement.
Can't remember the last British PM who stuck around for just 11 months in office, before getting it in the neck from her own kind.
That's what happens when you deliver a hung Parliament.
Minority government is not fun Ms May, you should give Julia Gillard a ring - she'll tell you.
And just who are Tessa's 'friends' in Northern Ireland, anyway?
The 'right-wing ultra-conservative' Democratic Unionist Party, that's who.
These people have form, and lots of it.
Founded back in '71 by that crazed protestant fundamentalist, the Rev. Ian Paisley; the worst, ugliest, bitterest, nastiest wackjob in British politics in living memory.
A ghastly and appalling human being, who operated under the cloak of the clergy, for gawd's sake.
By rights the DUP should be banned.
Although they won't tell you, they still have direct links with the outlawed Ulster Defence Association (UDA), also known as the Ulster Freedom Fighters, who along with the Ulster Volunteer Force, all answered to the terrorist organisation known as the Combined Loyalist Military Command during the almost quarter-century long "Troubles".
Of course, these dudes were the arch-enemies of another paramilitary gun-toting bomb-throwing terrorist organisation, known as the Provisional Irish Republican Army, and both sides had political wings throughout.
What a great bunch of mates the DUP will be, as the Sinn Féin MP's still to this very day refuse to sit in the House of Commons as a matter of principle.
They want no part of it.
These people, Tess, are not to be fucked with under any circumstances whatsoever, and are not that flash a crowd to be seen in the company of.
Light the blue touchpaper, and stand well clear.
To give you some idea, here's the Rev. Paisley back in the day, having changed out of his dog-collar and into his full campaigning clobber.

Enough said.
On a lighter note, as Britarse affairs of state go down the S-Bend, at least it's pleasing to see that the the Miracle of Democracy in the British Isles still allows for, nay, encourages eccentricity.
I have very fond memories of the late, great Screaming Lord Sutch, Leader of Official Monster Raving Loony Party [OMRLP] who spent his entire political career mercilessly skewering and lampooning self-important politicians, the arses of which the sun shone out of.
I think Lord Sutch still holds the world record for contesting the most number of elections without ever being elected to anything.
The Official Monster Raving Loony Party [est. 1983] is, of course, not to be confused with the upstart Raving Loony Green Giant Party, a faction of the OMRLP, that splintered off from the original party in 1989, or the Rock 'n' Roll Loony Party, which also broke away from the OMRLP, following the death of Screaming Lord Sutch in 1999.
The current leader of the OMRLP is Howling Laud Hope, who at age 74 campaigning on a platform of "vote for insanity" snared 119 votes in Tory Tessa's seat of Maidenhead; a very creditable 0.2% of the vote, after a howling good campaign.
But, here's the OMRLP's candidate in Red Jerry's constituency of Islington North, Knigel Knapp, hanging about trying to get in camera shots while the vote is being counted.

I have absolutely no idea what the Independent candidate Mr Fishfinger is on about, but you would imagine that he is a major-leauge supporter of battered British haddock, or perhaps he is more in favour of the European Union line on crumbed and deep fried seafood extender.
And chips
I could be wrong.
But here is the candidate himself in the Westmoorland & Lonsdale tally room, as he anxiously awaited the results.

With this mob going 'round, anything could, and will, happen.
Bless.

Gavel, the Vice Royal Dog, an Official photo-essay

Comrades,

As the British polity goes into a whirring tail spin, I'm guessing the Poms will take comfort from the fact that the Britarse Monarchy still reigns supreme here in the Colonies.
Crikey!
It's been brought to my attention that a six month old "big goober", who disgraced himself and was kicked out of the Queensland Police Academy, has been given a regal title, for failing so miserably in the service of the State.
Gavel VRD (Vice-Royal Dog) is being kept by the Hon. Mrs Kaye de Jersey, and His Excellency The Governor of Queensland The Hon. Paul de Jersey AC, QC. for their, and their servant's and guest's amusement at the splendid Government House in Brisbane.
Here's the Goober with His Exc...

The vice-regalness of the hound, of course, deserves a Royal Salute.

And doesn't Gavel the Goober just love to go on parade, surprising people with his suitably ridiculous costume.

Unsurprisingly, Gavel has a Facebook page.
Queenie would have been the first to find out, via vice-regal cable.
As the personal keeper of a large pack of nasty in-bred Welsh corgi's, of course Her Maj would approve.
They'd pick the meat from your bones if given half a chance.
Lizzy would be aghast, however, that Britain appears to be going the same way as Australia: the most unstable democracy in the South Pacific.
The only quote of any meaning I could derive from the current tête-à-têtes post the General Election in the Mother Country is from an interview given by J.Corbyn after the game to the effect "Tory Tessa is toast", followed by a jolly good damn gloat.
Who on earth would have thought that a dyed-in-the-wool Ol' Commo could attract the Labour Party's biggest ever vote since the end of the Second Fucking World War?!
Now that's unbelievable.
Ahh...the Miracle of Democracy...it's perfectly fine for the electorate to go utterly bonkers, they've got form.
As Red Jerry would no doubt also tell you, 'the workers, united, will never be defeated!!' - it's all there, the vote, and it's all up for grabs.
At 68 years of age, he's ready to serve the people.

(Pictures supplied: Government House, Brisbane, QLD)

Red Jerry & The Bomb

Comrades,

It warmed the heart of this ol' Drinker for Disarmament to hear that Red Jerry won't pull the trigger on the The Bomb if he is elected as the UK's next Prime Minister.
The Hon J.Corbyn doesn't need the Foreign Policy Numbers just at the minute in the first instance.
The Tories were trying desperately to dredge up some dirt on the bloke, and the only thing they could come up with was uncovering the fact that Jeremy joined the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) as a tender yoof [16] in 1966, and has remained true to the cause for all these years, currently holding the CND's post of Vice-President.

Corbyn says he'll be implementing a "no first strike" policy if he comes to power, never mind that letting off nukes would be "disastrous for the planet".
That good old wackjob Foreign Secretary and Minister for Stark Raving Buffoons, Boris Johnson, cried out in Conservative horror that Jezza's position is "chilling" and would "void" the current £20 billion upgrade of the Trident II D-5 nuclear missile system.
Did I hear right?
£20 billion?
I knew very well that The Bomb don't come cheap, but that'd buy a shitload of schools and hospitals, not to mention boosting wages for the workers and providing much needed relief for the poor, the stricken, the dispossessed and even "re-nationalising the Royal Mail" for gawd's sake, etc.
It'd be mad of the Ol' Pinko to want or need to fire first.
Corbyn didn't need to justify himself, and didn't, but might as well have said in his defence that he doesn't see the UK appearing to be a nuclear target by France, Russia, the former Britarse Empire, the USA, Israel, and everybody trash talkin' China and whoever else has a nuke under the bed, in the foreseeable future, and he'd also be thinking the British Isles would be well out of the range of North Korea.
And what have the Poms done to upset Fatboy Kim lately, anyway?
Red Jerry would also probably scale back the Trident's stupendous waste of precious resources; in the extremely unlikely and absolutely remote chance that someone did drop the Big One on you, you'd just need a couple of nuclear-armed subs floating around out there somewhere on the Wild Blue Yonder to say "stop it!", not a whole fleet.
Of course the other way around it is to secretly dismantle Britain's entire stock of about 125 operational thermo-nuclear war-heads (plus the 130 in reserve), pretend you've still got them, keep the Red Button (or whatever colour it is), don't tell anyone, and then no-one will be any the wiser.
Skeaky diplomacy.
Imagine the savings?
Brill!
So on that policy plank alone, I can only urge my friends in the Old Dart to Vote 1 Labour on Thursday, and remember, wherever you are on polling day, in the grand Strayan tradition, vote early, vote often.

the "Coalition of Chaos"

Fellow sunseekers,

The first day of winter in the Antipodes, and it dawned on me that that must mean it's summer in the northern climes, and that's certainly a lovely time of year to give the Miracle of Democracy a whirl in the Heart of The Empire.
A week to go to that hastily-cobbled-together early UK General Election.
Note that Tessa May could have done a Rich Dude trick here by being stupidly overconfident in the will of the people.
When Brexit Tess ran it up the flagpole, the Conservatives had an unbeatable lead of 24 points in the opinion polls, but since then the "unelectable" Jeremy Corbin has narrowed the gap considerably, despite, or perhaps because of his nakedly Pinko policy platform.
While he has next to no hope of achieving a simple majority in the House of Commons, I am rather taken with the now-hyped concept of the "Coalition of Chaos", that could well upset the Tory applecart.
To get to Number 10, the hopelessly splintered [there was a failed leadership challenge just nine months ago] Labour Party would have to get a rather large unweildy rag-bag of various Scottish & Irish nationalists, the policy-vacant Lib-Dems, some unreformed-Trot tree-huggers, and the usual collection of maybe-left-leaning-don't-know-can't-decide loops and loons to rally in behind them, and tip out the latter-day Margaret Thatcher.
No easy task, no siree.

My father rarely talked about politics, but when asked who he would vote for, he would usually reply "never trust a cold water man".
Well, there's not much to see here...May is a well known piss-pot with a chronic hangover problem [she should read Tony Blair's autobiography in which he describes the burden of office driving him to drink], crikey, Tess - when asked recently in a radio interview about her proposed alcohol tax regime - could not estimate how many standards drinks she guzzles a week.
Red Jeremy - being a good working class man - likes to go the pub to indulge in some retail politics and does not mind a drink in a crisis.
But, on the basis on these two photographs from the campaign trail of the party leaders in iconic British poses, which politician would you trust?

700,000 Frogs on pot...

Midnight tokers,

Even with us baby boomers in charge, the levers of power and the wheels of the Miracle of Democracy still move at a glacial pace.
Noted on the radio news this AM that only 25 GP's, principally in NSW, have applied for certificates to prescribe medicinal cannabis to individual patients, mainly the terminally ill.
What a really really stoopid system.
Change it, legislate for it.
Come on guys, get with the program, open up the damn doctor's script pads - trust them to "first, do no harm", for gawd's sake.
The Commonwealth Health Dept's deputy secretary in charge of drug regulation, adjunct Professor John Skerritt, says there are warehouses scattered all over Sydney full of the shit, but even if you are as crook as Rookwood, you still have to jump through flaming hoops to get at it.
WTF?
And then at what cost? It certainly aint on the PBS. Pensioner discounts? When you can go down to your local chemist shop and get all the highly addictive opiates you like for a song at the stroke of any snake oil merchant's pen.
In the meantime, 700,000 Frogs on pot can't be wrong.
They'd need it for the chronic pain:


https://www.thelocal.fr/20170527/france-to-scrap-prison-terms-for-cannabis-users

The French love measuring things, so I wonder what their annual domestic production of the hoochy-coochy is like, given the considerable black market and the fact that they have some ideal climes for it.
I remember casually plucking some choice little ripe heads off a few mature plants scattered around the herb garden of an ancient abbey in the Loire Valley that the GLW had first noticed, in full view of the knowing jardinier with winking eyes, in Sept '14; stuffed a pocket full and took them to Paris, gratuitement merci beaucoup.
God moves in mysterious ways.
Perfect.
Made it a lot easier to glide up and down those infernal Metro stairs on one good leg.

Australian Aborigines get the Constitutional right vote

This must be some kind of joke - it took until 1967 to give Australian Aborigines the Constitutional right Vote?
WTF?
Appalling.

No wonder it is the only referendum question ever to get such a huge level of approval at 90.7%, to very comfortably carry all the States.
It forever changed the "race card" in the Constitution, which still allows Canberra to make special laws for any race it deems fit.
Voter turn out at 93% was about standard under a compulsory voting system.
However, with the long history of the "White Australia Policy" and the inherent racism [present among all races] in Australia, there are two chances of EVER getting rid s.51(xxvi)of the Constitution - none, and Buckley's.
It will never happen.
Even getting a simple majority of the electorate is problematical, let alone carrying all the States.
By repealing s.127, it allowed Aboriginal people to be counted in the census for the purposes of drawing up electoral boundaries, effectively enshrining in the Constitution the 1962 Electoral Act that gave Aboriginies the right to vote, although Aboriginal people were not covered by the compulsory voting system until 1983!
So, for 20 years between suffrage and compulsion, no one cared if Aboriginies voted or not, despite the sterling efforts of the Labor party to bring out the "black vote" at the polls.
The other question, now forgotten, on whether to increase the number of members of the House of Representative, without increasing the number of Senators from each State, was sensibly, roundly defeated by the electorate.
More politicians? NO!
If it's not broke, don't fix it seems to be the over-arching Australian attitude.
Blundering on regardless.
And 50 years later - a goddamn half a century - the trouble continues.

TREATY, yeah.

TREATY, now.

Surf's Up for the Ayatollah

Comrades,

You gotta love the recent triumphant world tour by DJ Trump! - sold out shows everywhere.
First he drops in to sort out those pesky Royals down Saudi Arabia way, promising to help them gang up on Iran and give those guys the complete and utter shits.
World class diplomacy.
[Iran, by the by, has just completed its own curious excercise in the Miracle of Democracy - but somehow, the race for the Presidency there always seems to be between a "conservative" and a "hard-line cleric", no-one else appears to get a look-in, while it's Surf's Up for the Ayatollah, every day, 365].
Then The Donald pops across the border to instantly solve the Middle East Peace Question, right there and then, once and for all, while doing some weird shit at the Wailing Wall in a funny hat - good look.
Not happy with that, DJ-T! drops by the Vatican to catch up with the Bishop of Rome to seek Absolution for all his Sins, and congratulating His "what do you feed him?" Holiness on a job well done.
Winner!
Mission accomplished?
No siree.
The Trumpotus then jets into Brussels to clean up that total mess of crapola that is the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation, telling the other 27 Members that they better start coughing up for their own de-fence, as these nuclear farkin' weapons don't come cheap, boys, even on a fixed-price contract.
Have you seen the ridiculous cost of weapons-grade plutonium these days?
Then the Leader of the Free World caps off the tour by calling the Manchester bomber a "LOSER"...yep, that's right, a total loser.
What a statesman!
All in all, the whole roadshow could not have gone off any better...did you see the huge crowds of screaming fans at every show and all those autographs he signed?
Here's some highlights...The Donald hamming it up for the camera's as a Gypsy with a crystal ball!

Here's the man thoughtfully putting things right by looking for something one of his people had misplaced.

But wait, there's more...here's DJ Trump! with a beaming IL PAPA and the Two Black Brides of Christ!

Could go on, but, oh man, I'm exhausted.