In these uncertain times

“Dem statues come topplin down”

Dear reader, in case you hadn’t noticed we’re living in uncertain times.

This is what a non heroic crumpled piece of bronze looks like.

It would have been inconceivable only a decade ago that our society would be rent by factions, friction, and the shock of capitalism off the rails. In spite of all the assurances, our lives have become de-enriched. University students must pay billions in order to get their visas approved. Electricity and gas bills are sky high, and that edifice of civic virtue, the United States is totterring. It’s rent, it’s ruptured and going broke. There’s even talk of a schism not seen since the Civil War. That’s the problem with America… unresolved divisive issues. And, proudly we might say; “we have none of that here in Australia”. In America they’re pulling statues down, in order to re-align a collective sense of justice. To “right the wrong”, and in doing so, by removing staues of G.T.Beauregaurd, (not our correspondent from New Orleans) and General Robert E Lee, some southereners are getting mighty angry. Can you blame them? The very foundation of their ideals being toppled.

And in spite of everything Lord Rupert of Murdoch says, wages have flat-lined, housing is unnafordable and the only certainty seems that the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. And for the poor, though there aren’t any jobs left for them to do, the Federal Government is keen on testing welfare recipients for drugs, and making damn sure that the dehumanising process of proverty is more dehumanising still. That’s a symbol of the innovation the P.M wanted to see in our society. And it’s proof he’s a strong leader and keen getting things done.

Glory Glory Glory

Is there a silver lining we hear you say?

Is there a better way?

Are we better than this?

Of course we are

Two Councils have rejected the principle of Australia Day. At last there’s something that all Australians can unite in. And in a demonstration of real leadership, the Prime Minister has weighed in, telling those Councils that it’s an affront to all decent Australians to even question the nobility of settlement.

How dare those Councils! We shall name and shame them; Yarra and Darebin.

A true Patriot.

How dare they suggest that Australia Day is not the crowning glory of European civilisation, to annoint heathern peoples with Government and the principle of law. And how ungrateful those first Australians, (who though living an almost idyllic life until we arrived), still do not accept our chalice of enslavement, despoilation, death, mass-murder, spiritual iconoclasm, and the mind numbing stupidity of all governemt policy to accept that our version of Australia is, and always will be white. To be cleansed of nativism, cleansed of spiritualism , conservation, and culture, so that we, could properly steal this land, and destroy it in less than two hundred years.

Aboriginal Australians celebrate the first Australia Day. UNGRATEFUL!

We at pcbycp are 100 perent behind clean-living Australians, as espoused by Eric Abetz, in insisting that Councils concentrate on roads, rates, and rubbish, and keep the majesty, (god bless her) of Australia Day intact.

 

 

On Tourism,

Carefree days in ancient Rome. When holidays were uncongested.

Once again, the world erupts. Not the usual suspects; (corruption, vested interests, lobby groups divesting the people of good governance, hard cash, Trumpism and the simmering hatred that boils beneath).

No dear reader the vexed question of tourism. And the people of Europe who’ve had enough. Fortunately we may add, the Australian Federal government has made great strides in ensuring the same doesnt happen here, by killing off the Breat Barrier Reef. Something for which Queenslanders are eternally greatful. This fragment starts with an observation by our acclaimed man in the field Ira Maine;

mass tourism overload.

“A vast and ever increasing anti-tourism movement is gathering momentum in Europe, despite the fact that tourism is now the biggest employers on the planet,(or because of it)
Venice (pop. about 55 thousand) will have 28 million visitors this year. 
Bless my soul…28 million is just a few million more than the entire population of Australia…
All over the place, horrifying regiments of hotel chains are erupting up out of the sand with precious little regard or respect for local conditions, customs or community. Our own Gold Coast is typical, tasteless, money-grubbing example. of this trend. Repeat it a few hundred times all over the world and you begin to get the picture.

According to Martin Kettle of the Guardian, ‘Tourists Go Home’ is nowadays commonly to be seem scrawled on walls in the more tourist oppressed towns and villages throughout Europe.
28 million visitors to Venice…
Sure ’tis little wonder the bloody place is sinking…
And I’m to blame for all this?
Well, yes..
It doesn’t matter whether I am a budget-conscious package tourist or an independent traveller, doing the upmarket Grand Tour, I am still, as Desmond Morris famously said, part of the tourist ‘infestation’.

‘See Venice and Die’ was the old advice to the traveller. Let’s hope this does not become literally true lest it kill off the  tourist trade entirely’.

And then from Sir Atney of Emo, this thoughtful reply;

So crowded it would make any Venetian BLIND

‘And to think that most of those 28 million are funnelled into Venice within the summertime peak season.

At least the Gold Coast was just a sandy waste before it was incarnated as ‘Australia’s Holiday Wonderland’, so little of value was lost there. On the positive side, its glittering lights, beer-barns, fast food, gambling and whoring lure in 13 million rowdy bogans annually, thus temporarily taking some pressure off other parts of our great nation.

However, Venice is a unique showcase of culture, history and civilisation – and it’s being transformed into a gum-spattered Disney-esque theme park!

Hell is other people, said Jan Paul Sartre… and, in these numbers, how right he was!  My agoraphobia kicks in the moment I enter the air terminal at Sydney… and worsens from there on.

Birdsville could do with a few tourists. The sand is cleaner than Venice, and not so liable to flooding either.

Stay home and watch the DVD of “Death in Venice” instead!  Or wait for the place to be emptied out by a return of the plague that did in Gustav von Aschenbach (Dirk Bogarde): besides the heavily discounted accommodation, you’ll have the place to yourself!

But you may need to row for yourself along those canals’

And indeed we may ask is Sir Artney tasling about those canals that are close at hand, those in the middle distance, or is he referring to those very distant water systems the fabled and apocryphal “far canals” . Please we urge you, (dear reader) to stay with us for tomorrows thrilling rejoinder in our next installment. Now we urge you to at back to the main game, laughing with us, (and the Communist Party of China) about the state of Australian governance.

Australia has a highly developed tourism overload defence deflector. Kevin Andrews

Poetry Sunday 20 August 2017

Over the next four weeks we will revisit Oliver Goldsmith’s  The Deserted Village which, with commentary from our Poetry Editor Ira Maine give insight on our social condition.

When I was at school, and under constant threat from Christian Brothers, one of the blessed reliefs from the horrors of algebra and the like was an hour of English. During one of these sessions we were asked to learn (by heart) a short, rather sentimental poem about a now deserted school which went thus:

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,
The village master taught his little school;
A man severe he was, and stern to view,
I knew him well and every truant knew;
Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
The day’s disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee,
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
Full well the busy whisper circled round,
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned;
Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault;
The village all declared how much he knew;
Twas certain he could write and cypher too;
Lands he could measure, time and tides presage,
And even the story ran that he could gauge.
In arguing too, the parson owned his skill,
For e’en tho’ vanquished, he could argue still;
While words of learned length,and thundering sound,
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around,
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew.
But past is all his fame. The very spot
Where many a time he triumphed, is forgot.

 Perhaps I had been told at the time and had forgotten, but the lines quoted here are from a much longer poem written by Oliver Goldsmith called ‘The Deserted Village’.  Goldsmith was born in either Roscommon or Longford in Ireland in 1730, the son of a Church of Ireland (Anglican) minister, and was educated at Trinity College, Dublin.  Goldsmith was expected to enter the Church, but failure to apply himself to his studies saw him instead move to London where he was quickly accepted into the intellectual establishment of the day.  He remained a lifelong friend of both Dr Samuel Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds, with whom he formed ‘The Club’, a famous and regular dining engagement.

It is my intention, over one or two Sundays to attempt to explore this poem and relate it to the social history of the period.

Suffice it to say that I feel Goldsmith has easily in the above lines, seduced us into his 18thcentury country village life.  I myself was once a “boding trembler” and I feel, even now, there is no better way to describe the apprehension felt by a child who in the morning, scans the teacher’s face for even a hint of warmth.  I laughed enthusiastically too, (and hypocritically) at many an oft repeated joke; is there a student on earth who hasn’t?

And then too, how cleverly Goldsmith demonstrates in a few lines how important an educated man can become in a small, relatively illiterate community;

‘The village all declared how much he knew;
Twas certain he could write, and cypher too;
Lands he could measure,terms and tides presage,
[predict]
And even the story ran that he could gauge. [displacement of water,etc etc.]

His task then was not simply teaching; in an illiterate community there was the writing of letters, dealing with bureaucracies, reading letters from soldiers, or about the deaths of soldiers, settling disputes, checking boundaries and the million and one other difficulties an uneducated village had with a growing bureaucracy. The man was indispensable.

Having pointed this out, Goldsmith then sets about making us care about this schoolmaster;

Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault;

How can we not care about such a man?  Especially when we discover that he had faults, not the least of which was his attempt, when all else fails, when his various arguments, conducted in the most high faluting manner turn out to be nonsense, he would then proceed, (according to the parson) with ‘words of learned length and thundering sound’ to amaze the rustics with endless high flown bullshit! (just like the rest of us!)

In arguing too, the parson owned his skill,
And e’en tho’ vanquished, he could argue still;
While words of learned length and thundering sound,
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around.

Goldsmith here conjures up an image of all the ‘wits’ of the village, gathered of an evening in the local hostelry to listen to the parson, the teacher and perhaps a local magistrate or lawyer, get drunk and enter into somewhat heated (and invariably entertaining) discussion.

Perhaps next time we’ll have a look at some of the other characters in this work

MDFF 19 August 2017

Today’s dispatch is  Sheep.  Originally dispatched on 24 October  2015

He pai ra oku hoa,

Today’s theme is ‘sheep’, but don’t worry, am not about to bore you with a salvo of recycled Aotearoa sheep jokes.

I will however mention that when Warren Mundine was asked what he thought of Gary Foley having called him “the white sheep of the family”, Warren laughed and thought it was funny.

Rainbow… Black sheep of the family…
…”you got to play by the rules or pay the penalty…”

What family? ‘Family Australia’?
Whose rules?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gA_U-Eaato

Once again I recycle one of my all time favourite quotations:

“Cultural survival is not about preservation, sequestering indigenous peoples in enclaves like some sort of zoological specimens. Change itself does not destroy a culture. All societies are constantly evolving. Indeed a culture survives when it has enough confidence in its past and enough say in its future to maintain its spirit and essence through all the changes it will inevitably undergo. ”

This by Wade Davis, author of that seminal tome: The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World

The Yuendumu Magpies made it to the grand final in Alice Springs.

Months earlier invitations went out for the re-opening of Yuendumu’s Men’s Museum.

Some years ago Yuendumu’s Warlpiri Media Association (now trading as PAW-Media) http://www.pawmedia.com.au/ produced the widely acclaimed video series ‘Bush Mechanics’

When it was shown on national television many comments were made about the cleverness of the protagonists. Some commentators took it all too serious and failed to fully appreciate the exhilarating sense of humour and delicious sense of irony that is a hallmark of Warlpiri society. I hate to disappoint those that saw Bush Mechanics and swallowed that there ever was such as a functional clutch plate carved out of mulga wood. Call me cynical, but the “aren’t they clever” (surprise surprise!) comments bring to mind the kind of comments one hears at the zoo when seals perform clever tricks.

Not all that long ago the disempowerment, stigmatisation, stereotyping and marginalisation that tear at Warlpiri social fabric was temporarily eclipsed by the brief but spectacular AFL career of Yuendumu’s native son Liam Jurrah https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NF-_HszEC9s

Yuendumu received a much needed boost to its self esteem and the esteem it is held in by others.

Aussie Rules Football has been an integral part of Yuendumu’s cultural landscape for over half a century. It is social glue.

Thus when Yuendumu made it to the grand final, there was a mass exodus from Yuendumu. A month later under the headline ‘Community deserted as illegal camping spikes in Alice Springs’, the Centralian Advocate quoted Alice Springs Council’s Corporate Community Services director: “The biggest thing we believe was driving that spike, what we heard from police and rangers, is that virtually the whole of Yuendumu had decamped and were in Alice Springs due to payment of royalties”

Later in the article NT Police Commander Danny Bacon, mentions the finals match as being a significant factor. As for the ‘royalties’ furphy, these are usually not paid in cash and were not the main driving force behind the exodus nor in the implication (in the article) that some people chose to camp illegally as they couldn’t consume alcohol in regular accommodation.

The result of the grand final coinciding with the Men’s Museum opening was that the latter was attended by more non-Warlpiri spectators than Warlpiri people. The visitors (and locals) were regaled with traditional women’s dancing at the Warlukurlangu art centre http://warlu.com/ and after lunch proceeded to the museum (and in so doing walked past the $7.6M Yuendumu Police Complex which was officially opened yesterday).

Jakamarra had been much involved in the preparations for the Museum re-opening, and as the President of the Yuendumu Football Club, was torn as to where he wanted to be on that day. He opted for the museum and gave one of the opening speeches.

Two Jangalas had brought their karli (boomerangs) which they started to click on conclusion of the speeches in preparation to singing traditional Warlpiri songs. They were joined by Jakamarra and Japanangka. Just as a group of kardiya (whitefellows) might sit around a campfire with a guitar: “What shall we sing?” “Kumbaya?” “The lion sleeps tonight?” , so the foursome discussed “What shall we sing?” “What about Bah Bah Black sheep?” was Jakamarra’s suggestion… most people laughed but not all. A visitor was overheard whispering to her friend “Did you hear that? How disrespectful to those traditional song men!” Yes indeed, and if you burn out your clutch in the bush, you carve one out of mulga wood.

I’m very pleased to inform you all: The Yuendumu Magpies won!

The lost sheep (Adrian Munsey)…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqVKvRTmbj0

When Mary had a little lamb
The Doctors were surprised
When old MacDonald had a farm
They couldn’t believe their eyes

Kite ano koutou wawe tumanako ahau

Frank 

PS- I haven’t had a chance to comment much on Australia’s leadership change. Suffice it to say that Nigel Scullion remains the Minister for Aboriginal affairs and Mal Brough has been elevated to the front benches. Aborigines remain the black sheep of the family.

I did however remember a quote that encapsulates my opinion:

“A new society cannot be created by reproducing the repugnant past, however refined or enticingly repackaged. NELSON MANDELA, Nobel lecture, 1993

We’re with the churches on this.

We’re at pcbycp are 100 percent with the Australian Christian lobby on gay marriage. We endorse the churches’ principled stand on gay marriage and wholesome, (clean-living) values in general. We wont have a bar of it. And for Barnaby Joyce if he’s listening, we wont have A “Baaaa of it”.

Lyle Shelton. No stand on kiddy fiddling.

We at pcbycp are in lock step with the Australian Christrian Lobby’s Lyle Shelton on making a stand. It’s time, high time the voice of the righteous, moral, pure real Christian is heard. And by Jove, we’ll do it.

We at pcbyp abhor gay marriage. It was not condoned in the Bible. It was not written by Leviticus, Corinthians, Mathew, Luke, Peter, Thomas, (did they live together?) and any of those other noble, righteous moral texts, and Moses hadn’t heard of it either. And why? You may ask. Gay marriage is evil.

Cardinal Pell, kept a blind eye on kiddy fiddling. Got to the top of the tree.

No bones about it, (as the bishop said to the choirboy), we wont stand for it. ‘Not on you Nellie’, as the Mother Superior said to the novitiate. ‘Not by any stretch’, as the Sons of the rightous path youth leader said to his charges, and ‘not an inch more’ as the anglicacare holiday camp superintendent was heard to mutter.

However, one thing sticks in our craw. We haven’t heard their positon on paedophile priests, double standards, and kiddy fiddling generally, and that’s not even going near mysoginy. And we’re right with them on this issue. We’d love to hear the Australian Christian lobby’s views on kiddy fiddling. And we know that if their views are known. Why not be upfront about it? It confuses us. Why not be upfront about it? To to thus confused is?…. Well it’s Confucian.

Father Risssole and Cardinal Pell. Keeping it in the confessional.

You see, we feel so strongly about kiddy fiddling we’d really like to hear the Australian Christian lobbys views on this vexed issue. We know, (cos Cardinal Pell told us inadvertently by never mentioning it) that kiddy fiddling is a core principle of the Catholic Church. And we know that archbishop Hart, (god bless him) is worried about any move by the government of the people, to persuade priests to divulge the kiddy fiddling secrets of their parishoners. We at pcbycp respect the rule of God above law. And we respect the rights of schurch leaders to pay no tax, receive charitable donations, fund right wing looney special initatives, (like clean coal) and maintain their right to mysoginy, patrichy, kiddy fiddling and turning a blind eye to abuse. It’s a core principle attached to Judeo Christian religions. Who’s stated aim since eternity is to preserve the right of very old men to degrade women, kiddy fiddle and keep secrets where they belong. In the confessional.

We just can’t wait to hear their strong stand. Do they or do they not abhor kiddy fiddling?

It’s a simple question, not worth having a vote about, but nonetheless integral.

Dean Smith and Corey. All for keeping a lid on same sex marriage. And the sanctity of the confessional.

And we’re worried about free speech. Though religious schools are exempt from restictions that apply to the rest of us on preaching hate, religious dogma and sexism we defend the right of the ACL in figthing deviants in parliament. And we uphold the right by Corey Bernardii to ensure that religious schools are free from the taint of fairness, reason, and inclusiveness.

 

‘With the same-sex marriage lobby threatening to challenge in the High Court any moves by the government to pursue a postal plebiscite, the AMA has received legal advice claiming provisions to protect religious freedoms in the gay marriage bill being proposed by Liberal senator Dean Smith were flawed and could put Australia in breach of international obligations. It would also expose faith-based schools that could be stripped of their rights to teach their views of marriage.

Mr Sneddon, (no relation to Sir Billy) said this was a much broader problem than the narrow religious protections ­offered in Senator Smith’s private members bill, which allows civil celebrants to decline to marry same-sex couples and religious ­organisations the right to refuse their facilities for use in same-sex weddings’. (ABC)

And we agree, refuse same sex marriage. He nailed it.

“Refuse”.

 

 

Moral Turpitude

At last a most insightful piece from our correspondent of the upper North, Cecil Poole, in which reflection is given to the noble act of civilising natives the word over. Though no picture of Cecil exists, we gain a characterisation of the man through his writing. And reflect once more on the certainty derived from manifest destiny and religious certainty. And remember folks, any donations to this site, which is wholly religious, is 100 percent  tax deductible, so that we might also make a stand against moral “weakness”.

Read on, if you dare.

‘The True Jehovah’, Saint Tone of Santamaria.

There is great evidence of moral turpitude overcoming the Godless.  Indeed Bronwyn Bishop (with prescient warnings  of bestiality and the killing of newborn babies” ) and Anthony Abbott’s concern for religious freedom must be praised for alerting Australians to the dangers inherent in forsaking our one true Jehovah. We at pcbycp applaud their courage.

Today’s lesson comes from the Pilgrim fathers of Plymouth Massachusetts in the early seventeenth Century. (1620’s). That their colony prospered was due in no small part to their devotion to God, and to following the moral life God demanded.

In larger part it was due to fur trading, a trade that could not have been undertaken with the local Indian population providing the furs.

The Pilgrim fathers set sail. To multiply in godly certainty.

The vast bulk of furs were beaver skins, and these were in furious demand all over Europe.  Such was the demand that by this time beavers had been hunted to virtual extinction in Europe.  Thus the stage was set for the Pilgrim Fathers to make a killing so to speak.  The trouble was that others were onto the game, including a fellow born in Devon in 1576, Thomas Morton.  Morton set up a trading post north of the Pligrims on the shores of Massachusetts Bay.  The Pilgrims were none to happy with this competition and noted that Morton was (variously) a ‘kind of pettifogger”, with ‘more craft than honesty’, ‘an arrant knave’, and ‘a born Bohemian and reckless libertine, without either morals or religion’.

Morton’s settlement came to be known, not inappropriately, as ‘Merrymount’, a rowdy place ‘bent on having fun while making money’.  Morton made friends with Indians, noting their social graces including respect for the aged, compassion, humour, willingness to share, also noting an absence of jails, gallows or underclass.  Little wonder the Pilgrim Fathers were not impressed.

As further sign of Godlessness Morton liked to party and invited neighbouring Indians over to kick up their heels with beer, poetry, and dancing under an eighty foot maypole.  One of their songs included the lines ‘Lasses in beaver coats come away, Yee shall be welcome to us night and day.”  The chorus went like this

Maypoles were banned in Australia by the same people who banned Guy Fawkes.

Drink and be merry, merry, merry boys,
Let all your delight be in Hymen’s joys,
Lo to Hymen now the day is come,
About the merry Maypole take a room.”

The leader of the pilgrims, William Bradford wrote of Morton and the Merrymount community that they

And lo, after six weeks of wandering, God anointed the Plymouth brethren with soap.

“Fell to great licentiousness and led a dissolute life, powering out themselves into all profaneness.  And Morton became lord of misrule, and maintained (as it were) a school of Atheism.  And after they had got some good into their hands, and got much by trading with ye Indians, they spent it as vainly, in quaffing & drinking both wine & strong waters in great excess, and, as some reported, ten pounds worth in a morning.  They also set up a Maypole, drinking and dancing about it many days together, inviting Indian women, for their consorts, dancing and frisking together, (like so many fairies, or furies rather) and worse practices.  As if they had anew revived & celebrated the feasts of the Roman Goddess Flora, or the beastly practices of the mad Bacchanalians.”

For more than fifteen years these opposing forces battled for the upper hand.  As Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote ‘Jolity and gloom were contending for an empire.’  Finally as the Puritan Roundheads were battling the Royalists Thomas Morton (America’s first hippie) was arrested and thrown into gaol.

Plymouth brethren give praise to the Ikea outdoor table setting. C. 1628.

With this ill-advised push to allow Godless same sex marriage not only are we facing threats to freedom of religion, bestiality and the killing of newborn babies, but we are also threatened by a come back of the Maypole.  Lord save us.

Dunkirk was not just about queuing.

Sir Emo’s father (centre) before ration of Porridge. North Sea 1941. His memoirs, ” The Gruel Sea” make fascinating reading.

Dear reader, a telling piece from that sage of the upper North, Sir Emo of Atney. Not content in joining forces with David Flint in cheering the “naysayers”, in the non binding postal vote, he offers a word or two about where G.B is at, or not at, as the case may be, Read on…

‘I saw Dunkirk last week and thought it delivered a credible and moving insight into what must have been a pretty scary experience for the British people at the time.

Sir Atney’s Mother demonstrates British stoicism, whilst flower arranging to shell shocked soldiers during the blitz.

During that period  my father (a submarine officer in the North Atlantic) and my mother (an Irish nurse in the heavily-bombed East End docklands areal) both saw the horror of conflict close up, yet neither ever said much to me about their fears and hopes at the time.  There was a vital job to be done and they quietly and diligently got on with their duty, like so many others: that Blitz stoicism comes through very eloquently in the film.

Here’s how Emile Simpson analyses how the justifiable pride in Britain’s stand in those heroic years has been gradually parlayed into the current delusion and self-destruction, all pumped up by a narrow and inglorious nationalism.

A lighter moment. Sir Atney’s mother picking flies from soup.

Consider Britain’s one major, undisputed area of economic excellence – financial and business services.  Undoubtedly, these did very well out of the UK having a captive continent-sized market (the world’s biggest) right on its doorstep and a key role in its forums. Now, Frankfurt and Paris, as EU insiders, are eagerly lining up to take over that leadership. At the same time, scientific research (the other long-term strength) and education are wilting, thanks to government cutbacks and a growing disinclination by foreigners to underwrite expensive innovation in an uncertain economy that will soon be limited to a small and inward-looking island, instead of continuing as a major launchpad into the 512 million population EU.

The heavilly congested beaches at Dunkirk.

To no-one’s surprise, Boris Johnson breezed into Australia the other week, sounding out the possibility of an Imperial Preference System Mk. 1.01 – blithely forgetting how New Zealand, to take only one example, had been vigorously  encouraged by London to build its economy around the UK market, only to suddenly find itself four decades ago swinging in the breeze.

Understandably, BoJo got a curt reminder that Australia’s economic focus is now overwhelming and irretrievably embedded in the vast and growing  nearby Asian market, thank you very much! And across the Pacific, the Canadians, for their part with more economic muscle than ever and are eager to give the Americans a serious run in their own home market, too (Trumpastrophes permitting) and the rest of the Americas.

Queuing for tickets at Dunkirk

In the early 1970s, unsentimental logic and self-interest pointed the UK towards Europe and many in the Commonwealth accepted that.  But the logic of this untidy and dangerous shambles is incomprehensible to most people in the world – with the certain exception of the West Wing Tweeter

Wherever you see Hubris, you can be sure that her sister, Nemesis, will not be far behind’!

Sir Atney.

The bitter pill. After winnning two world wars, Britons queue for soup rations.

And from a journalist writing in a foreign field somewhere : ‘Ultimately, if the cultural roots of Brexit are reduced to one sentiment, it is that Britain did not win World War II to be run by Germany via Brussels’.

But you see that’s the point. They have lost the war in as much as all those poor bastards who died in France in WW1 did not die so that Australia could sell its raw materials to everyone else cheaply to anyone rather than the locals. That’s what the sage on histroy’s page was trying to tell us. And we at pcbycp wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s what we like about colonialism. Knowing our correct place. That was why Boris came to pay us a visit. Makes us feel important. There’s comfort in that.

Poetry Sunday 14 August 2017

“When Obama left office, he presided over a record seven wars, including America’s longest war and an unprecedented campaign of extrajudicial killings – murder – by drones.

In his last year, according to a Council on Foreign Relations study, Obama, the “reluctant liberal warrior”, dropped 26,171 bombs – three bombs every hour, 24 hours a day. Having pledged to help “rid the world” of nuclear weapons, the Nobel Peace Laureate built more nuclear warheads than any president since the Cold War.”

And now we have President Trump.  Again war seems inevitable, desired.

Which brings us to todays poem.

SEPTEMBER 1, 1939
by W.H. Auden

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism’s face
And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
‘I will be true to the wife,
I’ll concentrate more on my work,’
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the dead,
Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

And now let us have Ira Maine, Poetry Editor take us though this extraordinary poem again.

Auden is in a New York Bar when Hitler invades Poland.  All of the ‘Peace in our time’ preaching has been discovered to be untrue.  for the past ‘low dishonest decade’ the West has been lauding the German economic miracle, whilst turning a blind eye to Hitler’s butchery, ‘the unmentionable odour of death’.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return

‘Accurate scholarship’ not lies, not propagenda, demonstrate why Hitler rose to power.  Born in Linz, Austria, Hitler rose to power (‘a psychopathic God’) as a result of reparations imposed on Germany after World War 1.  Germany was humiliated deliberately, not from a sense of justice, but from the need for revenge.  This was evil and Germany does evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

And now for the Greek lesson; Thucydides, the Greek Historian beleived that democracy got in the way of strong leaders.  Military and economic power were all that mattered.  As a result ethics and morality were a waste of time.  ‘…Pain, mismanagement and grief…’ were an inevitable, unavoidable by-product of power.  Thucydides is very much a part of the American Military Academy Curriculum.  Neo-Cons love him.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism’s face
And the international wrong.

Both this and the next verse are almost self explanatory.  ‘Euphoric dreams’.  ‘Competitive excuses’ are mean reasons for a neutral country not to get involved, especially in view of ‘the International wrong’.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

People cling to the familiar, ‘Their average day’ and don’t want it to crumble away.  They don’ want to face their own fears, ‘afraid of the night’ we don’t want to confront evil so we turn our heads in the hope it will go away.  We know it is hypocrisy but it is easier than doing something about it.

Equally, Auden is in a Gay Bar, filled with ex-pats, and all terrified of the ‘night’, the unfamiliar surroundings, the War, and the destruction of the familiar.  

Gays have ‘never been happy or good’, because we in the thirties would not allow them to be either.  You could go to jail simply for being a homosexual.  Entrapment was commonplace among the police forces.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

Auden was gay, or queer, as they called it then.  In 1939 on of the pore popular pursuits amongst louts was ‘queer bashing’ so Auden is being quite courageous here.  Nijinsky was the principal dancer with Diaghilev’s Ballet Russe in the early years of the 20th Century.  Nijinsky and Diaghilev had an affair.  Nijinsky eventually left to get married.  Incensed, Diaghilev refused to let him rejoin the company.  Briefly, Nijinsky had kids, developed schizophrenia, wrote horrible things about Diaghilev in his diary and never really danced effectively again.

So here’s a plea from a gay man, a man born with ‘the error bred in the bone’, a plea for all gay men and women to be granted the right to live their lives with dignity and love.  ‘Craves what it cannot have’ because he lacks ‘the normal heart’ points up just how terrifying things were for gays in the 1930’s.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
‘I will be true to the wife,
I’ll concentrate more on my work,’
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the dead,
Who can speak for the dumb?

There’s a lot of Ts Eliot in this verse, who compared the early morning thousands pouriing over London Bridge into the city to one of Dante’s Circles of Hell.  ‘Who would have thought death had undone so many?’

Or maybe there is more Auden in Eliot than I suspected….

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Now then, here we arrive at the centre, the nub, a last two verses which reach out and choke off Thucydide’s lie, the lie of the enlightenment, the rubbish cult, ‘the romantic lie’ of ‘the indiviual’ which has done so much to destroy societies all over the world.  Basically it comes down to ‘we must love one another or die’

Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

What lunacy, what ‘stupor’, seizes us and allows these horrors to occur?  The great majority allow these things to happen because it’s easier than objecting.  Despite this, Auden says, there will always be a life affirming minority, ‘ironic points of light…’wherever the Just exchange their messages…‘    Here and only here will we find the life affirming flame, only here will we find the ethics and morality which are entirely absent from Thucydides thinking. 

MDFF 12 August 2017

This dispatch arrived on our desk this week.

Bonjour mes amies,

From Wikipedia:

In medieval England, Jews were alleged to hunt for children to murder before Passover so that they could use their blood to make the unleavened matzah. This and other allegations culminated in the ‘Edict of Expulsion’, a royal decree issued by King  Edward I in 1290, expelling all Jews from the Kingdom of England.

The allegations were subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

On 6 December 1938, several weeks after Kristallnacht in Germany, William Cooper led a delegation of the Australian Aboriginal League to the German Consulate in Melbourne to deliver a petition which condemned the “cruel persecution of the Jewish people by the Nazi government of Germany.” The protest has been referred to as “the only private protest against the Germans following Kristallnacht “Subsequent to this an allegation that the Nazis and Aborigines were in league gained traction and the German Lutheran missionaries and residents of Hermannsburg (Ntaria) were consequently treated rather shabbily. The allegation was subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

In 1982 Geoff MacDonald’s ‘Red Over Black (behind the Aboriginal Land Rights)’ was published. I was told a certain “communist geologist” made a cameo appearance in this book in which it is alleged Aboriginal Land Rights are a communist plot. The allegation was subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous as was the implied allegation that a certain geologist was a communist.

The Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (RCIADIC) (1987–1991) was a Royal Commission appointed by the Australian Government in October 1987 to study and report upon the underlying social, cultural and legal issues behind the deaths in custody of Aboriginal people and Torres Strait Islanders.

That was 1991

Incarceration of Indigenous Australians is happening at a greater rate than the time covered by the Royal Commission.

From Wikipedia: “The report on the enquiry ‘Bringing Them Home’ is the Australia Report of the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families. The report marked a pivotal moment in the controversy that has come to be known as the Stolen Generations.”

That was 1997…. ‘Controversy’? More like ‘Iniquity’ or ‘abomination’. And yes, it has been alleged by some that the Stolen Generations never happened. That it was all consensual and in the best interests of the children. Allegations subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

Archie Roach- Took the Children away… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aywDT6yHMmo

And then there was Kevin Rudd’s famous Apology to the Stolen Generations:

“We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.
A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again…”

That was 2008.

Kevin Rudd, whose Government took over ownership of the Northern Territory Emergency Response (the ‘Intervention’) whose Minister responsible for Aboriginal Affairs, that great Bureaucratic Empire builder Jenny Macklin, subsequently extended the Intervention by a decade under the euphemistically named Stronger Futures legislation.

The Intervention which was based on allegations that remote communities were dysfunctional dens of iniquity. Allegations subsequently found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

As someone who lives at the Frontline of the assimilationist assault, I can assure you that there has been no let up and our trials are far from over.

Joan Baez- all my trials….
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xi_zzDrZu6c

Removal of children is happening at a greater rate than at the time of the ‘Stolen Generations’

Which brings us to:
Royal Commission into the Protection and Detention of Children in the Northern Territory

That is 2017 (maintenant- jalangu- right now)

On occasions I catch an episode of ABC programme ‘The Drum’ in which a presenter and three invited guests discuss current affairs.

On this particular occasion Warren Mundine, Government appointed spokesperson for Aboriginal Australia, was one of the guests. When the subject of the Royal Commission came up, Warren (from memory) alleged that most Aboriginal youth who ended up in Don Dale Youth Detention Centre had been sexually abused as children. This was the first I heard such mentioned in relation to this Royal Commission and I suspect it has aspects in common with The Gulf of Tonkin incident, the Weapons of Mass Destruction, the Children Overboard, the People Smuggler’s Business Plan and the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, not to mention the mistreatment of the Sudeten Germans. All gratuitous allegations these. Found to be unfounded.

Incidentally Warren has a sense of humour. He thought it very funny, when he heard that long time Aboriginal activist/academic/tomato grower Gary Foley had labelled him ‘The White Sheep of the Family’

Subsequently an episode of the ABC’s Q&A emanated out of Alice Springs. Dylon Voller (the youth whose appearance on the ABC’s Four Corners programme, triggered the Royal Commission), asked a question. A lively discussion ensued regarding what should be done to prevent Aboriginal youth from getting into trouble.

A classic case of blaming the victims- “they can only blame themselves for ending up in detention.”

Not a word about the sadistic racist guards, not a word about Aboriginal youth being targeted by the three times the National average more police per population we have in the Northern Territory. On Youtube I saw Warren Mundine justifying the use of the “spit-hood” on the basis that Dylon Voller undoubtedly would have spit on the guards. How would Warren then justify the pulling down of Dylon’s trousers?

No one alleged that these guards and over-zealous police, behave as they do, because they have been sexually abused as children. No such gratuitous allegation should be made- not against anyone. Such allegations may well be found to be unfounded.

I am told that an Aboriginal youth was recently approached by a policeman and asked if he was stealing goods off the shelves at one of Yuendumu’s shops. The shop manager had to come to the youth’s aid by explaining the youth was employed to stack the shelves. The implied allegation was found to be unfounded and gratuitous.

Apologies for a rather depressing Dispatch- Below an antidote- some lovely music:

Paul Simon – Under African Skies (Live from The African Concert, 1987) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85rr5SqrCZI (surely Miriam Makeba rates a mention in the Title!)

The Staple Singers – A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxqtdDrvMFo

Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu – Wiyathul https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8-YMpYbRqY

Joan Baez performs “We Shall Overcome” at the March on Washington https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7akuOFp-ET8

Miriam Makeba – A Luta Continua (In concert 1980) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mtl62-6pY_I

 

C’est tout- a la procheme

François

A warmer welcome elsewhere.

This is what leadership in a SAFE country looks like.

This is leadership in Ireland. Gay marriage is UNSAFE.

Dear reader, there is a parallel universe you know. Its existence had been proved. You see on the other side of the world they pass same-sex legislation with barely a flutter of an eyelid. In other countries, (we are told) on the other side of the world (even though they are not blessed with an abundance of natural resources), their electricity is cheap. Also, (and we have this on good authority), in other countries, they even go as far as to respect their citizenry as integral to the maintenance of a healthy body politic. And, (would you believe?) treat them with both respect and intelligence. Also we are told, they believe in equitable taxes, wealth distribution,and devote money, time and resources to anything other than housing as the sine-qua-non of a healthy economy.

Gladly no such thing exists here. We don’t go in for that sort of thing. We like to be insular, ‘take it up the choof’, and when asked will bend over so as to take it further. And when it comes to our esteeemed ally the U.S we’ll go that extra step and offer everything and the future too. We like it that way.

This is leadership in Malta. Malta is Unsafe.

What we don’t like in this country is optimism and imagination. Cos we love old style religion. Religion that promises retribution, punishment and subjugation of the soul. And we like also to punish women, anyone whos not “right” and keep ourselves safe, secure and very very worried indeed. That’s why we welcome the next nuclear armageddon. It’ll set things right and get us back to when the world was proper. When you could stone women, and crucify heretics, etc..etc.. and get a tax break for doing so.

But just to let you know how it is over there, we bring you this brief despatch from Cecil, who’s swanning around the northern hemispehere. He writes;

I just arrived in Toronto to be welcomed by Border Services rather than Border Force. Not a gun in sight and a warm welcome. Quite a contrast to Duttons Australia”.

Electricity is way cheaper in Vietnam. More decorative, but UNSAFE, (for shareholders).

Cheers

To whit our sage of the near north Ira Maine replied;

Dear Sir,

This is leadership in Germany. Germany is UNSAFE!

The Minister would like to thank you for your report on the Canadian Border Services. However, at the same time, the Minister notices, with not a little regret that you obviously hadn’t noticed that precisely the same conditions exist at the Tolmie Border post*. The all female staff make one equally welcome and if one happens to arrive at a quiet time, other more personal services become available. That ladies passing through our borders might be equally well catered for is, even now under active consideration.
It is perhaps rather fortunate that the level of wild animals killed by traffic close to our border area does tend to provide more than enough meat for our welcoming table, at which, and for a modest fee, new arrivals are made famously welcome. Our Wombat a la Greque is something not to be missed. And as for our Possum Pie, laced with a smidgin of Cockatoo, or indeed our Echidna L’Orange well, the mind simply boggles.
We hope to see you here soon!

Ira Maine,
Office of the Tourism Minister,
(Deaths in custody? Let me make it perfectly clear. This is neither the time or the place for these discussions. What are you, anyway? A flaming’ Commo?’)

To whit we say there’s no hope for life on Mars, Uranus, or anywhere, the proof is in the Pudding. Pudding a la Dutton.

* Tolmie Border Post. Currently the objective of a Border Force investigation.