MDFF 21May 2016

There is no Musical Dispatch today, just a link to a wonderful exchange between Amy McGire and Chris Graham.  Broad ranging illuminating listening.  Highly recommended.  Direct from New Matilda.  (And do consider subscribing to this wonderful journal)

Constitutional Reform And Aboriginal Funding: Amy McQuire And Chris Graham On Let’s Talk

At night, Amy McQuire is a fearless columnist for New Matilda. But during the day, Amy runs Let’s Talk, a radio program produced by 98.9fm in Brisbane and made legendary by the great Tiga Bayles, who passed away a month ago after a long battle with cancer.

The legendary Tiga Bayles, pictured with Amy McQuire in 2015.
The legendary Tiga Bayles, pictured with Amy McQuire in 2015.

On Friday, Amy sat down with longtime colleague, her former boss (and her former employee… yes, it’s complicated) and our very own New Matilda editor Chris Graham, for a chat about all things Aboriginal affairs.

Let’s Talk is a nationally syndicated program through the National Indigenous Radio Service network (of which Chris is now the General Manager and News Director… while also serving as New Matilda).

Did we mention it was complicated… in any event, here’s Amy and Chris chatting in the 98.9fm studios in Brisbane. The video is produced by the students from Triple A Training, part of the Brisbane Indigenous Media Association.

click this link and then play the video.

Cheers

Forget about Trump, the latest on G.T Beauregard.

Dear reader the latest installment from our man in the Nooo Orleans, G.T. Hoping this gives you a sense of what makes the Paris end of the deep south Tick or Tock as the case may be. Read on…willy2

wily

Looking for G.T

‘Beauregard has gone missing. I spoke with him shortly after the tragic demise of Will Smith recently, and he looked most unwell and was largely incoherent about the whole thing. Since then, I can find neither hide nor hair of him, despite earnest searches in the usual drawing rooms and brothels. It may be, of course, that his syphilitic brain has finally betrayed him entirely.

Will Smith is not the well-known African-American actor. Rather he was a footballer, or what passes for a footballer here. Much feted because he was a member of the team that won the all-American world championship of everything in 2009 or whenever it was, on behalf of all the people of New Orleans and not just the octogenarian team owner. So he was a good guy, as all winning sportsmen are.

will smith 3

Looking for G.T

There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, then, when on a recent Saturday evening the 4WD Mercedes driven by him and his wife was pursued by the American- or perhaps Mexican-made vehicle of a 6 foot 5 thug. The ensuing gunplay left Mr. Smith dead and his wife wounded. Thus far it was almost straightforward. Except that apparently the thug had called the police to the scene before any firearm was brandished. And the survivor had the temerity to suggest that he was the victim of a hit and run and later threatened by the deceased. It hardly seems credible that a former athlete of comparable size to the assassin who has been told throughout his adult life that he is without spot or stain could display any but the most reasonable and placatory demeanour in a frank exchange of views with an irate stranger in the middle of the street, but that is what the shooter says. And then there is the sticky business that both the deceased and the putative murder are persons of tinted complexion.will smith 2

So, you can see that Beauregard’s earnest desire to swiftly conclude that the good Mr. Smith was the victim of bad negro behaviour has been thrown into confusion. Last I saw he was disconsolately muttering, “Good nigger, bad nigger, both niggers, bad good nigger …” into his absinthe, and, frankly, though I feel guilty for having left him in this parlous mental state, I couldn’t stand it any longer.

I visited his rooms some days later, only to find the place in total disarray. Umbrellas left open, odd socks and teacups on every horizontal surface, his Hokusai prints strewn about as if caught in a great wind. And he had been placing odd images on the walls – something about 36 views of Lee Circle. I dug these ones out of the rubbish. If they make sense to you, you’re a better man than I’.will smith 4

Applying for Federal Arts Funding.

artsDear reader, if you’re a writer, visual artist of theatre director we’re pleased to present this very easy to use ten step guide prepared for us by the Federal Government, which will progress your application to the next round of funding. Applicants are reminded that all the boxes must be filled, and forms submitted in triplicate. Entries must be neat and legible and the area provided for text below the categories must be filled, but not overfilled. We do not accept applications with attachments, notes, addenda or ancillary references. Also note that the $5000.00 application fee is non refundable, and goes some way to ensure that the funding process accords with the WBP Ideas Boom guidelines and processes outlined by the Australian Property Council think tank.arts 3

1 Indicate Previous publications, performances and brief CV. (One line provided)

2 Have you received federal government arts funding previously?

3  Describe, (in two lines) how your proposed work celebrates the glorious noble tradition of Anzac, and will nurture the perpetual flame of valor for eternity.

4  Are you of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Island extraction. If not, why not. If so make application to the Half- time Sports and Entertainment sub committee. (Indigenous sub culture programme).

5   Have you ever belonged to a political party?

6   Briefly indicate how much money you made on your last project? Did you claim the full tax benefit?

7 Have you ever received philanthropic support from other non governmental organisations? If so list name of organisation and amount received.

8   Have you had a positive review in the Herald Sun, Sunday Telegraph, Courier Mail or the Australian?

9  Have you ever performed, screened, spoke overseas? List activity, (answers to this category will be sent to Border Force for Verification).

10   Who was the opening batsman in the 1924 test at Headingly?

11  Have you ever slandered, criticised or satirized the Australian Government in your work? Extra marks for a Labor Government.

12  Would you describe your self as Progressive, Innovative, Free thinking, Provocative? Only one answer is correct.

13   Does you work portray Australia in a positive way?

14   Are you LGBTI?

15   Do you support gay Marriage?

16   Do you own your own home?

17  Will you accept corporate sponsors logos on your material and product endorsements?

18   Does the Australian Flag feature prominently in your work?

19  How does your work endorse the proposition that coal is good for humanity?

20  Describe within five,(5) dot points what your proposed work is.

arts 2

Work that raises awareness of asylum seekers, detention centres, first australians, and question the value of border force, defence spending, olympic gold medal glory, mining, housing , religious and corrective services will not be accepted.

Successful applicants are reminded that upon receipt of public funds control, publication and publicity completed works belong to the Australian Government’s cultural secretariat and must submit any revisions to the Cultural Secretariat Chairman The Rt Hon Corey Bernardii M.P for verification.arts 4

More exciting news for the Ideas Boom. De-funding the arts.

arts 1

The former Minister for the Arts, George Brandis. Wisely re-directed funding from Balmain basket weavers and rat-bag intellectuals.

(the following is an extract from a dinner held at the IPA by Mitch Fifield Federal Minister for the Arts)

‘The Federal Government is really serious about ideas and innovation. There’s no Olympics in the Australian arts scene, and no medals either. Lest we forget. Bradman, Pharlap, and Shane Gould as the Gold standards of Australian Culture.

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The new forward looking Minister for the Arts Mitch Fifield. Every Australian Counts, and pouring money into the Arts makes no Cents.

I’m glad that theatre managers, writers, playgroups, thinkers and talkers, (the chattering classes) are de-funded. It’s the problem with the arts sector. If you fund them they’ll demonstrate an obtuse lack of gratitude and start indulging in satire and other grotesqueries of the human condition. No sooner than you say ‘de-funded’, you, the benevolent, kindly government , paid for by the taxpayer, will be an object of ridicule.

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‘The Song of the Sentimental Bloke’. ‘There is still room in modern Australia for new interpretations of old theatre’.

Film in Australia is proof perfect of this, Since the generous tax dollars were removed we’ve returned to sure- fire winners, Mad Max, and films about kelpies and what we know of ourselves as decent clean living people, who live in the bush, will lend a mate a hand and know how to tell a square bloke form some lefty leaning (most probably foreign) wanker. These are the values of mateship, the values we want to enshrine in our national destiny.

arts 4

The true cultural narrative of Australia, Glorious heroic sacrifice and the flame of youth that is eternal, blah blah blah..

That’s why the arts bodies scream blue murder about their de funding. They’re too pooncy to go it alone, and stand on their own. As a government we say ‘look to America pursue philanthropy’ (though it’s lacking in Australia), the several philanthropic trusts in this country may pick up the slack and may generously fund new interpretations of proven winners. Plays like ‘Summer of the Seventeenth Doll’, and ‘The Song of the Sentimental Bloke’. There is still room in modern Australia for new interpretations of old theatre. That’s why the Australian War Memorial keeps getting a funding increase, because it’s narrative is central to the story of Australia. A narrative we all know, of bold sacrifice, and heroism in defending our shores. True stories drawn from the broad reach of Australian history. We identify with the struggle that made us great and noble. Sadly, whenever you give cash to writers, without certain strictures, they’ll go lefty and tell you that we’ve hijacked the story to project an overt, militaristic, jingoistic narrow view, of who and what we are. Some of them, (without clearly defined boundaries) even want to include native Australians into the narrative. It’s quite frustrating.

arts 5

A National Cultural Treasure. Pharlap the Stuffed Horse.

I’m glad as Minister for the Arts we’ve siphoned off all that taxpayer money to choose, the institutions worthy of funding. I like Ballet, it’s not challenging, and though I do get a bit bored, it’s very very high culture, and it’s often nice to say you’ve been to the ballet. People see you as a person of cultural substance. Same applies to the Opera, it’ a cachet worth having. Glad there aren’t any cheap seats at the Opera, because the unrepresented scum would clap in all the wrong places, and create a mess in the stalls. That’s why I quite like Shakespeare, it’s a sign of some distinction to quote it, as the story is universal. You can bank on Shakespeare, and it’s old. Old as time, and works. The problem with contemporary theatre is that there’s no fun in it, you’re not guaranteed of a pleasant night out and a good laugh.

arts 6

Blending Art and Culture. The AIS, Arguably, sculpture even uglier than that installed at Docklands

Contemporary art is risky, You can’t bank on it. I’ve got some lovely paintings in my board room, all done by dead and established artists. Their representatives, the gallery owners and dealers are grateful. Unlike contemporary artists who’ll expect to be paid, and then pursue copyright, as if they still owned it. I look forward to the Olympics. That’s money well spent, and for the public, it does an incredible dose of good to see ordinary Australians striving. They feel proud and the athletes themselves have a lifetime ahead of them endorsing products and corporations. And making money that they never return to the taxpayer. It’s the trickle down effect in motion. Why is it good? Because you can measure the benefit. Every gold medal is a triumph of the national soul. Gold bought and won by our collective endeavor.

There is no comparison. There are no gold medals for art and culture.

It’s fools gold. (thunderous applause)

The establishment is threatened. Careful it might hear you.

Duncan Storrar should be poorer.

nasa 6

Duncan Storrar shoud be poorer. Then he’d be more Grateful!!

We know about the ‘trickle down effect’, and those on the lowest rung know it best. It’s a sham, a shibboleth, and it ‘don’t mean a God-damn thing’. But as the disparity between the ‘have’s and the have nots’ becomes a yawning abyss, there’s been a lot more hectoring lately. All of it judgemental. Because at the core of conservatism is judgmentalism. It’s axiomatic. ‘You’ve gotta be right to be right’.

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‘Do an Intervention. Keeps em in their place’… and makes them more Grateful!!!

We are indebted to the first Australians in showing us how the establishment owns the rulebook. It goes like this; Invade the country. Exterminate. Quarantine the survivors and subject them to perpetual second tier-dom, as untermensch. Patronise them. After a while they’ll get used to it. And when they ask for more of the cake, you’ll tell em; ‘You ungrateful bastard, that’s your second helping this century, How dare you’! Then, quick as a flash, just to remind then how impoverished, disgraced, lowly and debased they are, youll punish them just a little bit harder. Do an Intervention. Keeps em in their place. And the joke is, all the stuff you flogged from them, you never ever paid a cent for. Crime never paid so well.

convict

Convicts. Learning to be both grateful and civilised.

In Ireland it was a national sport for centuries, it only gets hottest when the establishment feels threatened. That’s how we civilised Australia with Convicts, To cleanse the ‘ol country’. The establishment had it up to here with wastrels wanting something after they had their land taken away. Poverty is always ungrateful. The Establishment is likened to a wounded Triceratops. When vulnerable they have to go for the king hit, and make sure that hook or by crook that principle of authority and respect/fear is upheld. To dare question it you’re in BIG BIG Trouble.

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Dear reader we would like to apologise for this image as being visually gratuitous, But the editor insited that his (poor in our opinion) metaphor, ” wounded triceratops” was given special status.

That’s what happened to Duncan Storrar, (heads will roll again at the ABC) he was quite right on stating that ‘living on fuck all is no fun’. For daring to ask for more of the pie he was smacked down by the establishment. That’s Rupert and his mates. They’re threatened.

People are even questioning the inequitable negative gearing rort. Real Estate agents are threatened. Some bastard questioned, the asylum seeker policy. The big lie might unravel. Then just to top it off some poor bastard had the temerity to question the entire justification for the election to determine union sovereignty by suggesting that it was a lower order issue that the electorate didn’t give a stuff about. How dare they!

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‘Profits and Slavery’. Indentured workers gaining a foothold on the rung of opportunity. Image graciously donated by the innovation Minister Mr Christopher Pyne. MP, as evidence of the ‘Ideas Boom’ in motion.

Now some activist lefty wanker is questioning the four dollar an hour slavery rate. They’re saying it’s akin to being paid subsistence for menial work that any dumb prick could do. How Ungrateful is that!! ( Excuse me, these are not my words, just the vocabulary in the most recent “the little jobs are sacred report’ from the IPA. Ed. ) That’s why we’re talking about jobs and growth. It’s Profits and Slavery.

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Sarah is 3 years old. If her parents are wealthy she might also get a foothold on the ladder of opportunity. If not she’s stuffed!

But don’t you dare criticise it! If you’re poor you clearly don’t have a handle on economics and the trickle down effect. And if you continue to argue we’ll just have to drag you through the dirt and turn the bloody tap off. ‘Kick him when he’s down’!! Queensbury’s Rules!!…..O.K? We have a massive increase in endangered species, the climate is in meltdown and that’s not an issue in this election. The bankers are vulnerable. The P.M tells us; ‘Real estate Agents are vulnerable’, they’re just hanging on. If we’re not nice to them it’s Economic DOOM! They’re endangered!! The corporates who pay no tax. The bankers, the dodgy vocational colleges, they’re vulnerable. But, they’ve shown what it takes, They have the right stuff!! God given by the cheerleaders for the highest tier, those wunderkinds of the imaginative impulse, the Real Estate agents.

Visionaries from the Property Council.

The Real government of Australia.

slave 4

Wanna know about History?. Talk to the experts.

And they tell it straight. They’ve got a handle on History. There’s mock Tudor, Georgian and French Empire and Italiante in your leafier suburbs and out here in the bush it’s brick veneer, and neo colonial.

A simple reality, no one likes Modern.

Modernism affronts to cherished standards of decency taste and decorum. It’s a house built by a fuckin architect. Modernism is anti establishment. Modern values are akin to treason. The establishment is strong on Punishment. And your principles aint worth a goddam thing.

Welcome to the future. It’s Past!

What did you do in the Great War daddy?

Another splendid piece from Paddy-O. A considered take on the coalition’s election mantra, ‘Profit and Slavery’…. read on…..(quietly now)

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Malcolm and Wendy Turnbull on the election hustings. A very nice couple, and modestly dressed in spite of their incredible wealth. Photographed whilst inspecting the “trickle down effect” at the newly opened ‘Cultured Colostomy Bag’ retirement facility in Palm Springs. FL. More evidence of the ‘Ideas Boom’ at work.

Week one of the longest election campaign of living memory is done, and the dis-honours are pretty evenly divided. Malcolm Turnbull dodged a walkabout and leapt to the defence of banks and real estate agents in the debate; while Bill Shorten kept to education as a theme, while discarding a potential embarrassment in the candidate for Fremantle and playing the straight bat to calls for reform of asylum seeker policies.

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Apology. We must apologise for the previous image as it has come to our attention that the above couple were not Mr and Mrs Turnbull. An inadvertent error and plausible due to the uncanny resemblance shared by each. We promise not to make the same mistake again. The editor has been terminated, and we now have a new manager of the graphics department working for us at four dollars and hour. As a consequence we will have more revenue to spend on coffee machines for our senior executive staff, to enjoy at their new establishment, the ‘Cultured Colostomy Bag’ at Palm Springs.FL.

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Duncan Storrar. A seriously poor bastard. Now a seriously vilified poor bastard. Dont we HATE the poor. And why? Because they’re Poor! Stupid!!

It would seem that the trenches are being dug for a long war of attrition. And it is a war. While the commentators praised the debate for being based in policy, the reality of the difference was brought starkly home by the questions of one Duncan Storrar on Q&A. The awful responses from Assistant Treasurer Kelly O”Dwyer and Innes Willox from the Australian Industry Group combined with the mudslinging muckraking character assassination led by the Murdoch press, made this clear. This is a class war. Not because Labor is seeking reform of negative gearing, or a Royal Commission to hold the Banks to account, but because the coalition and their cheerleaders want to silence the people left worse off by their policies.

I missed the debate. I was in the emergency department of St Vincent”s in Melbourne with my daughter as she waited to have intravenous antibiotics for pneumonia and pleurisy. Her illness was brought about by continuing to work while sick, because like so many young people she can”t secure a full time job with paid leave, despite a degree in Business, and now 5 years experience in various administrative roles. She is part of the underemployed under-class, carrying a HECS debt that if she gets that elusive full-time job will drag her down for years. Nothing in the Liberal-National mantra for her – jobs and growth are total illusions.

Public hospital emergency departments are an amazing reality check on the arrogance of current politics. Here the most vulnerable are at their weakest, and yet the coalition would have them pay more, with an insidious, creeping policy of co-payment. Perhaps the next debate should be at St V”s on a Friday night with the injured, sick and crazed asking the questions. Trench warfare moves slowly. Unless the other side makes a mistake, gains are hard won. Some historians credit John Monash with breaking the cycle of slaughter late in the First World War by properly concentrating his forces in a coordinated attack – there is little sign of this from either side as yet, and for good reason. There are seven long weeks to go, and neither can afford to get it wrong.

Meanwhile reports suggest Duncan Storrar having had the temerity to ask a question motivated by a desire to help his daughters, is now on suicide watch after the vultures of the media attacked him so relentlessly. He didn”t deserve this, nothing in his past justifies it. He is now so vulnerable and if this is a class war, fought from the trenches, it will only get uglier.

Poetry Sunday 15 May 2016

Browningwith comments by our esteemed poetry editor, Ira Maine Esq.

The poet, Mr.Robert Browning was born into ‘society’ in London’s Camberwell in 1812. He was privately educated and could afford to live the life of a gentleman. He counted Wordsworth and Walter Savage Landor amongst his friends following the publication of  his work ‘Paracelsus’ in 1835.

Famously, in 1846 he eloped to Italy with Elizabeth Barrett where they both continued to live until Ms Barrett’s death in 1861.

Robert Browning’s work does not easily spring to mind nowadays and for a very good reason. The 19th century literary establishment wanted a new genius, someone of the order of Tennyson or Coleridge. Browning, they decided, with his oddness and baffling obscurities, precisely fitted the bill. The man was hailed as an undoubted genius/sage and lionized by all and sundry.  Poor old Browning…

The reality was that Browning, a hugely competent poet, was capable of churning out work at an astonishing rate. His ‘baffling obscurities’ came about largely through a recurring failure to revise and correct his output before presenting it to the printers. As a consequence, hordes of ‘literary’ figures spent years attempting to dissect from his work what they believed to be the essential hidden genius of the man. There was none. Browning was very good at recording human frailty and setting it down acceptably on paper, but a genius? a sage? Hardly.

We are told that, towards the end, Mr Browning began  to believe that he was, after all, everything people said of him. He became mannered and affected, almost Wildean, but he certainly wasn’t mannered enough, or affected enough, or nearly clever enough to be Wilde.He was however, a likeable, flamboyant personality who was perhaps very well aware of, not only his own shortcomings, but the extravagantly pretentious shortcomings of the literary establishment of his day.

Given the foregoing and Browning’s  highly perceptive mind, it is difficult to resist the notion that the poet, essentially a showman, didn’t for a minute believe the publicity about himself, but hugely enjoyed living up to it nevertheless!

Browning grabs you right away with thunder and horses, saddles and sweating, thus;

‘I sprang to the saddle and Joris and he;

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;…’

You can just see the sparks on the cobbles, feel the straining harness, the snorting of the animals… brilliant stuff straight out of his  ‘HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM AIX TO GHENT’

But let’s not deal with this mysterious bit of news. Instead we’ll cast an appreciative eye over another of the great man’s poems, this one entitled;

THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN

A child’s story.

This is a story about the consequences of not keeping promises. Browning makes a glorious job of re-telling the tale and sitting down to read it for yourself will well repay the time spent on its fifteen verses. It is a fairytale, a legendary story and there’s not a boring line in it!

Go on…pretend you’re nine years old, you have all the time in the world and all things are still possible…

 

The Pied Piper of Hamelin

Robert Browning1812 – 1889

I

Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, 
By famous Hanover city; 
The river Weser, deep and wide, 
Washes its wall on the southern side; 
A pleasanter spot you never spied; 
But, when begins my ditty, 
Almost five hundred years ago, 
To see the townsfolk suffer so 
From vermin, was a pity.


II

Rats! 
They fought the dogs and killed the cats, 
And bit the babies in the cradles, 
And ate the cheeses out of the vats, 
And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladle's, 
Split open the kegs of salted sprats, 
Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, 
And even spoiled the women's chats 
By drowning their speaking 
With shrieking and squeaking 
In fifty different sharps and flats.


III

At last the people in a body 
To the town hall came flocking: 
"'Tis clear," cried they, 'our Mayor's a noddy; 
And as for our Corporation--shocking 
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 
For dolts that can't or won't determine 
What's best to rid us of our vermin! 
You hope, because you're old and obese, 
To find in the furry civic robe ease? 
Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking 
To find the remedy we're lacking, 
Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!" 
At this the Mayor and Corporation 
Quaked with a mighty consternation.


IV

An hour they sat in council, 
At length the Mayor broke silence: 
"For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell, 
I wish I were a mile hence!
It's easy to bid one rack one's brain-- 
I'm sure my poor head aches again, 
I've scratched it so, and all in vain 
Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!"
Just as he said this, what should hap 
At the chamber door but a gentle tap? 
"Bless us,' cried the Mayor, "what's that?" 
(With the Corporation as he sat, 
Looking little though wondrous fat; 
Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister 
Than a too-long-opened oyster, 
Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous 
For a plate of turtle, green and glutinous) 
"Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? 
Anything like the sound of a rat 
Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!"


V

"Come in!"--the Mayor cried, looking bigger: 
And in did come the strangest figure! 
His queer long coat from heel to head 
Was half of yellow and half of red 
And he himself was tall and thin, 
With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, 
And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, 
No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, 
But lips where smiles went out and in--
There was no guessing his kith and kin!
And nobody could enough admire 
The tall man and his quaint attire. 
Quoth one:  "It's as if my great-grandsire, 
Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, 
Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!"


VI

He advanced to the council-table: 
And, "Please your honors," said he, "I'm able, 
By means of a secret charm, to draw 
All creatures living beneath the sun, 
That creep or swim or fly or run, 
After me so as you never saw!
And I chiefly use my charm 
On creatures that do people harm, 
The mole and toad and newt and viper; 
And people call me the Pied Piper." 
(And here they noticed round his neck 
A scarf of red and yellow stripe, 
To match with his coat of the self-same check; 
And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; 
And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying 
As if impatient to be playing 
Upon this pipe, as low it dangled 
Over his vesture so old-fangled.) 
"Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am, 
In Tartary I freed the Cham, 
Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats; 
I eased in Asia the Nizam 
Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats: 
And as for what your brain bewilders--
If I can rid your town of rats 
Will you give me a thousand guilders?" 
"One? Fifty thousand!" was the exclamation 
Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.


VII

Into the street the Piper stept, 
Smiling first a little smile,
As if he knew what magic slept 
In his quiet pipe the while; 
Then, like a musical adept, 
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, 
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, 
Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled; 
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, 
You heard as if an army muttered; 
And the muttering grew to a grumbling; 
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; 
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. 
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, 
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, 
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, 
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, 
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, 
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives-- 
Followed the Piper for their lives. 
From street to street he piped advancing, 
And step for step they followed dancing, 
Until they came to the river Weser 
Wherein all plunged and perished! 
‹Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar, 
Swam across and lived to carry 
(As the manuscript he cherished) 
To Rat-land home his commentary: 
Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, 
I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, 
And putting apples, wondrous ripe, 
Into a cider-press's gripe: 
And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, 
And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, 
And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, 
And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks: 
And it seemed as if a voice 
(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery 
Is breathed) called out, 'Oh rats, rejoice! 
The world is grown to one vast dry-saltery! 
So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, 
Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!' 
And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon, 
All ready staved, like a great sun shone 
Glorious scarce an inch before me,
Just as methought it said 'Come bore me!' 
-- I found the Weser rolling o'er me."


VIII

You should have heard the Hamelin people 
Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. 
Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles! 
Poke out the nests and block up the holes! 
Consult with carpenters and builders 
And leave in our town not even a trace 
Of the rats!"-- when suddenly, up the face 
Of the Piper perked in the market-place,
With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!"


IX

A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue; 
So did the Corporation too. 
For council dinners made rare havoc 
With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; 
And half the money would replenish 
Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. 
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow 
With a gypsy coat of red and yellow! 
"Beside," quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink, 
"Our business was done at the river's brink; 
We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, 
And what's dead can't come to life, I think. 
So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink 
From the duty of giving you something for drink, 
And a matter of money to put in your poke; 
But as for the guilders, what we spoke 
Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. 
Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. 
A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!


X

The Piper's face fell, and he cried,
"No trifling! I can't wait! Beside,
I've promised to visit by dinnertime 
Bagdad, and accept the prime 
Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, 
For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen, 
Of a nest of scorpions no survivor--
With him I proved no bargain-driver, 
With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! 
And folks who put me in a passion 
May find me pipe to another fashion."


XI

"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I brook 
Being worse treated than a Cook? 
Insulted by a lazy ribald 
With idle pipe and vesture piebald? 
You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, 
Blow your pipe there till you burst!"


XII

Once more he stept into the street 
And to his lips again 
Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; 
And ere he blew three notes (such sweet 
Soft notes as yet musician's cunning 
Never gave the enraptured air) 
There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling 
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, 
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, 
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering, 
And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, 
Out came the children running. 
All the little boys and girls, 
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, 
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, 
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after 
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.


XIII

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood 
As if they were changed into blocks of wood, 
Unable to move a step or cry, 
To the children merrily skipping by--
And could only follow with the eye 
That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. 
But how the Mayor was on the rack 
And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, 
As the Piper turned from the High Street 
To where the Weser rolled its water's 
Right in the way of their sons and daughters! 
However he turned from South to West 
And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 
And after him the children pressed; 
Great was the joy in every breast.
"He never can cross that mighty top! 
He's forced to let the piping drop 
And we shall see our children stop! 
When, lo, as they reached the mountain-side, 
A wondrous portal opened wide,
As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; 
And the Piper advanced and the children followed, 
And when all were in to the very last, 
The door in the mountain-side shut fast. 
Did I say all? No! One was lame, 
And could not dance the whole of the way; 
And in after years, if you would blame 
His sadness, he was used to say,-- 
"It's dull in our town since my playmates left! 
I can't forget that I'm bereft 
Of all the pleasant sights they see, 
Which the Piper also promised me. 
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, 
Joining the town and just at hand, 
Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,
And flowers put forth a fairer hue, 
And everything was strange and new;
The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, 
And their dogs outran our fallow deer, 
And honey-bees had lost their stings, 
And horses were born with eagles' wings: 
And just as I became assured
My lame foot would be speedily cured, 
The music stopped and I stood still, 
And found myself outside the hill, 
Left alone against my will, 
To go now limping as before, 
And never hear of that country more!


XIV

Alas, alas for Hamelin! 
There came into many a burgher's pate 
A text which says that heaven's gate 
Opens to the rich at as easy rate 
As the needle's eye takes a camel in! 
The mayor sent East, West, North and South, 
To offer the Piper, by word of mouth 
Wherever it was men's lot to find him,
Silver and gold to his heart's content,
If he'd only return the way he went, 
And bring the children behind him. 
But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor, 
And Piper and dancers were gone forever, 
They made a decree that lawyers never 
Should think their records dated duly 
If, after the day of the month and year, 
These words did not as well appear:
"And so long after what happened here 
On the twenty-second of July, 
Thirteen hundred and seventy-six;"
And the better in memory to fix 
The place of the children's last retreat, 
They called it the Pied Piper's Street,
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor 
Was sure for the future to lose his labor. 
Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern 
To shock with mirth a street so solemn, 
But opposite the place of the cavern
They wrote the story on a column,
And on the great church-window painted 
The same, to make the world acquainted 
How their children were stolen away, 
And there it stands to this very day. 
And I must not omit to say 
That, in Transylvania there's a tribe 
Of alien people who ascribe 
To the outlandish ways and dress 
On which their neighbors lay such stress, 
To their fathers and mothers having risen 
Out of some subterranean prison 
Into which they were trepanned 
Long time ago in a mighty band 
Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, 
But how or why they don't understand.


XV

So, Willy, let you and me be wipers 
Of scores out with all men--especially pipers! 
And, whether they pipe us free, from rats or from mice, 
If we've promised them ought, let us keep our promise.

This poem is in the public domain.

 

MDFF 14May 2016

Originally dispatched on 25 May 2014

Բարի երեկո իմ ընկերները

I’ve mentioned before, that a long time ago I had the pleasure and privilege of showing  Warren Mitchell around Yuendumu.

Warren whose most famous character was Alf Garnett in the TV series ‘Till death do us part’ told me that “The most effective way to fight prejudice and racism is to make it ridiculous”

I like to think that in a small way I’ve contributed to this fight.

Through circumstances, I didn’t get to see much of Alf Garnett on TV. ‘Till death do us part’ was my dad’s favourite TV show. As he told it to me, in one episode Alf is landed with a brown baby that he has to take care of. Throughout the episode Alf becomes increasingly fond of his charge, and in the end declares that “you’re an OK little chocolate”

My first dog was called Glue (to the suggestion that we should call him ‘Blue’ one of our children enthusiastically responded “Yes, Glue! That is a good name”)

Eventually Glue died in my arms from a heart condition and was replaced by Chocolate which was her colour.

A veterinarian researcher did a study on Yuendumu dogs. From memory his research focused on the possibility that dog ticks played a role in disease transmission in humans. I recall consigning a match box full of ticks by Australia Post to him. On one occasion Chocolate had a litter of pups at the same time as another younger dog that lived with us. Wendy came home to find the young bitch running around yelping and clearly agitated and distressed. Chocolate had kidnapped her litter and put the pups with her own.

My brown skin baby they take him away….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6qmgMXt-mw

…. Sometimes I feel like a motherless child….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_jbKQHrdW7w

Wendy returned the pups to their rightful owner again and over again until finally we had to separate and restrain Chocolate and force her to confine her urges to her own pups.

We controlled Chocolate.

When I told the veterinarian what happened, he told me this was typical dingo behaviour. Dominant dingo bitches take over the rearing of other’s pups (sort of like Cuckoo birds in reverse). As part of his research he’d found that most if not all Yuendumu dogs had dingo DNA in their genetic makeup.

Denial is a common human defence mechanism that I doubt any of us is entirely exempt from. I have difficulty however in coming to terms with such extremes as denial of the Holocaust, the Armenian Genocide and the Rape of Nanking. Where are these deniers coming from? What motivates them? Ես չեմ հասկանում  I don’t get it.

In Yuendumu we have some light brown skin people, who  escaped being taken away. They tell some fascinating stories of how their families managed to evade the authorities, including having their skin blackened by plant material.

Yet in Australia we have them: Stolen Generations Deniers:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7A9jNAuxmds

Jupurrurla is one of the Yuendumu light brown skin people, who was not taken. A few days ago he told me that he’d received a letter from his full sister, whose existence he had been oblivious to.

“My mother never told me, she must have been kuntangka”…. shamed. Ashamed of having let them take her daughter? As if she’d been able to do anything about it! They protected her. They controlled her.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLXzKYP1uCw

We discussed the Stolen Generations. In days gone by, government agents just came and took the children. No ifs no buts. All under the direction of the euphemistically named Chief Protector of Aboriginals.

These days a new Stolen Generation is happening. These days they operate with copious paper work and court orders and new euphemisms. Stronger Futures indeed. Stolen Futures je pense.

An employee of the Community Child Safety & Wellbeing Teams, Department of Children and Families, Northern Territory Government recently became resident in Yuendumu. The main purpose of this Social Worker, appears to be to organize Community Child Safety Meetings. We’ve been told that we can “make a referral to me with a specific concern” “Gran-ma why do you have such large teeth?” …No you won’t fool the children of the revolution… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29obokz1uxs

My discussion with Jupurrurla about the past and present taking of children culminated in him saying:

“Warnapari-piya” …. they’re Just like Dingoes.

Մինչեւ հաջորդ անգամ

I’ll wait for a thousand years….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1r5beMs4ymM

(Google Translate- Armenian)

Closing Down Climate

nasa 3

What Climate?

nasa 1

A non issue for Australia

NASA is cross with the Australian Government. They cannot believe that we’re closing down the climate unit. Stripping jobs from desperately needed research into the impacts of climate change. The devolution of CSIRO as a research hub into an industry orientated support rusk. To support Australian Industry, always a leader in forward thinkingness. Innovative, dynamic, pushing the envelope.

What is Australian Industry? Hmmm, Australia post, prisons, mining, overseas students, underpaid interns, it’s all of these, and moving forward. What is not Australian business?The Taxpayer!!

But how dare the Yanks put their nose in. There is no climate change. Haven’t they noticed, climate is not part of the narrative in this election. We don’t have a climate problem, the world does. But we’re different. Aways have been. And happy about it.

nasa 4

Industry orientated CSIRO. New Climate Testing facility to be opened in conjunction with the IPA and Minerals and Energy Council.

The Great Barrier Reef is not important. The recently added fifty new endangered species are not important. Like science in general we don’t actually like scientists. We like the idea of indentured workers at four dollars and hour. We like the idea of expanding service industries, toilet cleaner, bum washers and the like, but NOT, and we say this emphatically scientists. Yeah we have an ideas boom, but it’s really like housing, it’s a bubble.

nasa 2

It’s Queensland.

We don’t like clever dicks. Ask George Christiansen, he doesn’t like them either. Tony Abbott, (the first part of the Abbott Turnbull Government) is campaigning with George today, and will make sure that the Great Barrier Reef and coal mining wont make a mention. Moving forward, bugger the environment, and the environment votes green anyway. Coral votes green. Endangered frogs vote green. Trees and all biota not ordained by the Bible, (you guessed it), vote green. Stuff em! Growth and jobs! More mining, real estate kickbacks and big business is what this country stands for. We’re moving forward. And whilst we’re at it the IPA are cranky. They’re cross the feds are cutting back on obscenely funded superannuation kickbacks. There’s no need for an enquiry into banks, they’re fine. As recent dodgy investment loans from China indicate, they’re on top of the job, to borrow money and spend it willy nilly on the real driver of the economy, Real Estate, whilst crucifying the poorest.

nasa 6

‘And besides, the wealthy end of the town don’t go to the pictures, they’d just buy the cinema instead’.

And that’s why the bloke on Q and A will get the toaster. They’ve (green lefty sympathisers) have stumped up twenty thou for a new Toaster. Even then he’ll still be wingeing. He winged about the fact the the tax break for the wealthy, if redirected would allow him and his daughter to see a film together, whilst the impact would be lost on the super rich. Try another one, he’s probably got a plasma screen at home, possible a subscriber to Netflix. And besides, the wealthy end of the town don’t go to the pictures, they’d just buy the cinema instead. Demolish the cinema, put up a block of flats, and negative gear kickback, from you guessed it, the poor bastard who can’t afford a film. The taxpayer. Tax is tricky, someone suggested he wasn’t entitled to a benefit, cos he didn’t work. Too bloody right.

In economic terms he’s labelled a Dud. If economics was like a Greenie, we’d just chop him down, or bulldoze him. It’s called scorched earth. In Queensland it’s called progress. Either way, you can bet George has a bet either way. Climate is for losers, coal and development, and the tax avoidance industry is where the action is. Tax is tricky. Don’t touch it.

But there’s a two word code that makes it simple.

The PM Malcolm Abbott is fond of quoting. ‘Jobs and Growth’.

Fight another day. When discretion is the better part of valor.

scott 1

‘Sex appeal’!!!

Eight weeks is an awful long time politics.

Seems there’s skeletons in the cupboard. Faced with awkward questions being asked of the member in the nebulous zone of western Sydney. The MP with sex appeal Ms Fiona Scott equivocated about who’s side she was really on. Did she or did she not back the spill against Abbott? Who cares you may ask? The ultra conservative rump of discontented Liberals do. They’re really sore that the firebrand dubbed by the former PM as ‘sex appeal’, could’ve betrayed his trust. Maybe they have a point there? Indeed he was the self styled ‘P.M for women’, and even had one of them on his front bench. And being a woman, and born from Adams rib, she like all her type, (as stated clearly in the bible) can’t be trusted to hold her own. That’s because of her sex appeal. That’s why the conservatives wont buy it, (her equivocation) because they know both in the old testament, and the ‘Jehosephat Chronicle’, (recently discovered in the IPA vault containing other sacred relics, as the precursor to the “how to stone witches” guide Judea ad 40) that ‘the woman is fickle and subject to emotional distortion in the eyes of god’. That’s why the Sydney anglican diocese wont have a bar of female priests and the like. “ Let one in, and you’ll have the place crawling with them’.

scott 2

PM for thought bubbles Mr Malcolm Abbott demonstrates sex appeal to adoring MP.

Good thinking then, that faced with this challenge, the PM for thought bubbles, Mr Malcolm Abbott stood by her side, spoke of her integrity, and then ran for cover. There was a whole pile of things scheduled for the PM to do for the rest of the day, and they were all scrapped. Rumours began to circulate that the PM, was working behind the scenes sharpening up Bill Shortens campaign with some helpful hints on staying on message. The Opposition leader seems to think that education could amount to something. He’s all over the place talking about education. The PM for innovation has a counter strategy; ‘Jobs and Growth’. Bugger education, make kids work for nothing, and break them. A simple strategy. In generational terms, ensure that the baby boomers, with all they got for free stay in as numero uno. To ensure a natural order of things. Like negative gearing and the trickle down effect. And in doing so keep Australia safe.

scott 6

Train Traveller; “Who are you?”. We often ask the same question.

Still rumours abound that the PM in hiding, was planning a big splash when he emerged from the bunker and confronted the disappointed mothers whose babies weren’t kissed. Cleverly taking on the disguise of just another person in the street the PM was greeted by a train traveller, “ Who are you” ? Clearly his capacity to disappear is working. A tactical retreat no less as the absurdity of replacing the former PM with the same may not wash so well with the electorate. The PM for thought bubbles is cut from different cloth. Last seen in an exclusive menswear store trying on a new suit. Proof perfect that he is actively promoting change and the trickle down effect.

scott 3

At the market. PM greets potential voters

scott 4

Curious George

He’s got backing, George Christiansen our favourite conservative wants a reassurance that none of those terrorist ex-Syrians will be settled in his electorate, and wants his Labor counterpart to back the same. And just to show he’s fair dinkum is toying with the idea of succession of FNQ from the Federation. Sounds a bit like the Mason Dixon line. Which though evaporated years ago its spirit lingers most recently in North Carolina. Which wont trouble the PM for thought bubbles. He’s sticking to bananas. He knows all about bananas. He worked on them as a student. There’s safety in bananas. But you’ve got to be very careful when eating them, one false move and they’re very slippery. Perhaps he didn’t learn this in banana 101. Presumedly that’s why education is important.

And for the P.M, I hear an election jingle coming on; “we like bananas, because they’ve got no bones”… Nor skeletons either.scott 5