Stafford Ray

In the Loop.

2012-02-17T17:41:00.002+10:00

I am worried about Jim.

Jim is in an outer loop of the economy, a very precarious place to be. But first let me explain the ‘loops’.

Primary Producers are at the centre where all loops begin. They grow and raise food so they are not working in an expendable industry. My maternal grandfather was a farmer who used horses for everything from hauling logs to powering the sulky that took him and Grandma to town. But that all changed when he bought a tractor. Tractors do not eat grass and do not self propagate, so his purchase started a second line of loops that include tractor manufacturers, whose demand for materials created the next level of loops of miners, oil drillers, refiners, service mechanics, you get the picture.

More tractor manufacturers joined in so dealerships sprang up and new loops were formed that managed sales for manufacturing, a services not directly producing food or an object we can see and feel. But soon the dealer no longer had time to sweep out his showroom so he hired a cleaner and yet another loop was created.

Then the cleaner became so busy he hired Jim’s Pooch Grooming Service and now, every Thursday morning, Deefer gets a wash and a brush, her claws trimmed and anal glands expressed and yet another class of loops was added. We need these loops to create employment as productivity increases and industry continues to automate but we now have more people in outer loops than inner loops and it is these outer loops that are first to go when money gets tight.

Outer Loop jobs depend on our discretionary dollar. They include restaurant staff, tour operators and Jim’s Mowing, the specialist BBQ cleaner and I must not leave out the busty blonde who bursts into the blue-collar work place in her van offering espresso coffee and hot pies to blokes who gather around to admire her legs and torso while spending twenty times the cost of a cut lunch and thermos of coffee.

When the Great Depression peaked in the late 30’s, over half the population here worked on the land so when sons and daughters lost their town jobs they came home where there was a cow to milk, some chooks for eggs, a few fruit trees and a veggie patch so they did not starve and were hale and healthy when the economy recovered..

Now, Agriculture here in Oz employs less than one in forty so where do our sons and daughters go if unemployment hits 30% or worse?
We are facing fundamental and worldwide shifts in energy, environment, population and wealth distribution. We need a survival plan and leaders to explain it and guide us through it.

It seems they are here, but their voices are being drowned out by populists of the Right, who insist the Market will sort out all those loops we created while we were running up our credit cards and the Left which seems more interested in same sex marriage. Both are aided and abetted by media continuing to direct our attention to which celeb is cheating on whom, obscuring the fact we are in crisis and desperately in need of a global plan and a social contract to deliver it.

That mix of undermined respect for leaders, voyeurism, platitudes, scandal and lies leaves us confused. Confusion leads to anger and so we get Greece. There, rioting is threatening the fabric of their society and it is spreading. So what are our politicians doing as they jostle for power? They are talking war. Should we be surprised? Of course not.

That will get our attention away from their appalling economic management and the diminishing habitat of the brown breasted miniature whistling duck! To fight each other is in our genes so war it will be and our last chance to address the issues of environment, energy and population will be abandoned. Are we really that stupid?

......................

Note: No disrespect is intended towards the many good people who work in service industries, including Jim's franchises.
I am really concerned for their futures, as I am for Humanity as a whole.

Magpie Colours

2012-02-13T08:49:00.000+10:00

Images

Still bodies,
black or white,
Entwined or dumped.
asleep or dead.
Beautiful collage
or reminder of Auschwitz.

Sorry folks, no chuckles here today. But try your luck at Magpie Tales where Tess's friends give and give.

Big Jack

2012-02-09T04:31:00.004+10:00

He’s narrow at the shoulder
And he’s wider at the hip.
He wears his momma’s underwear,
Her shoes and dress and slip.

But say his name throughout the West
And desperados quake
‘Cos he’s a mile more dangerous
Than any rattle snake.

He wears his four-gun tied up high,
Wears specs to aid his sight
And in his belt a diction'ry,
To get his cuss words right.

But should some rustlers comes to town
To challenges him to fight,
He lifts his skirts and shows his wares,
And outlaws run in fright.

Cos underneath that female garb
I’ve seen it and it’s true,
A Gatling gun, two hand grenades
And tattoos writ in blue:

“You wanna play? Then I‘m your man,”
It says, and they all cower.
“Undo your belt and drop your pants
Let’s see your fi-re power!”

But not a man has ever stayed
To draw, or call his bluff
And most went straight right afterwards
They knew they'd had enough!

..............................................

With a respectful nod to the wonderful
Auntie Jack show .
Image borrowed from Wikipedia.
PS. This is the sort of nonsense that comes to mind when one is sleep deprived.

RIP Magpie

2012-02-07T02:48:00.001+10:00

Here lies the body of Jessica Kelly,
Who stuffed so much cake and tart in her belly,
That she could not eat
Her veggies and meat
And choked on a huge slice of strawberry jelly!

More offerings can be seen at Magpie Tales.

Bluebell 55 word challenge.

2012-02-03T08:35:00.000+10:00

The Car God.

As it approached we ran to see what was pushing it, but saw nothing.
It had a voice, a rumbling; a language of no words as it carried the holy man, keeper of its demons.
In wonder and fear, we dedicated our lives to its mysteries.
But we should have burnt it.

Written for Bluebell Books.

Magpie with hubris or spot the red face..

2012-02-02T14:57:00.000+10:00

“A child could do better,” I said.
“So why does this shyster have cred?”
‘Because his vermilions
are selling for millions,’
"I see," I said. "Is my face red?”

A Philistine in the presence of the cognoscenti has a duty to reveal his ignorance.
Poems and stories by the latter can be found at Magpie Tales.

Does this article tell us what freedom mean to a patriot?

2012-02-02T06:42:00.000+10:00

I stumbled upon this while trying to get into my own blog, hampered by lack of signal here in this wilderness and was driven to comment. However, as a non-'team member' I was not permitted to comment so I repeat the complete article here and include my rejected comment.

I also add, that this level of hate directed towards any elected individual must undermine the rule of law the writer claims to support! Alan Jones on steroids?

The biggest Communist in Congress?

Written on January 25, 2012 by Daniel Greystone from Patriot Update

The title of this article says a whole lot so do you want to guess which Congress person I am referring to? I know there is more than one communist in our government and sometime before the November 2012 Election, I will be telling the entire world who they ALL are (Unless I am snuffed out).

For now, let us focus on this one member of Congress who is so bent, so angry and so ugly (as an American Citizen) that it is a miracle that she can even look at herself in the mirror. Speaking of which, “Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who’s the biggest Communist in Congress over them all?” As the mirror wakes up and smiles, the response is not earth shattering for it says, “Mr. Greystone, why of course it is Nancy. Nancy Pelosi.”

As Newt Gingrich rises in the polls and his momentum accelerates, Nancy Pelosi has decided to make known real mud and some rich dirt about Newt. In fact, she states that “Newt will NEVER be able to become President.” We can interpret this as a threat to Newt and if this same threat was issued by any other Congress person in regards to Obama, well, watch out for the drones!

So, Nancy Pelosi has some dirt and mud to throw at Newt. So what? This is the NEW democratic standard that we all need to get used to hearing. It is intimidation through coercion in order to get ones way. It happened to Herman Cain no matter if it was true or not true. He got bumped out of the running for the President because he did not listen to the threats from the Democrats. What does Nancy have to offer us American Citizens? Let me tell you…

If you ask me, Nancy Pelosi is a communist and has infiltrated our Government. If your parents and grandparents were alive, ask them how much they fought to keep America FREE from Communism. How many people have died and have given their life in fighting communism? Because of all of the fighting that happened years ago, the communists realized that a direct confrontation could not be won. So, they devised a scheme to subvert Americans and infiltrate our government in order to change us away from freedom into communism. In my opinion, Nancy Pelosi is the ring leader of this effort today.

What she did as Speaker of the House of Representatives is despicable and is against the very fabric of our American way of life. I could write a book about what she and her Communist cohorts have done as wolves in sheep’s clothing. Pelosi is parading around as “actually being FOR America, while passing laws and no budgets that is destroying America!” Nancy has the gall to say to America “I have some dirt on Newt and I am going to sling mud all over him!” It is implied that she will do this no matter what the LAW states about disclosure. Again, this just PROVES that she does not care about the rule of LAW in America. There is not one communist who does care about the rule of law. She and her cohorts (yet to be named) seek to undo every law that binds them to our US Constitution. Yet they create their own power base by stealing our federal money to pay off people to re-elect them back into office.

Nancy Pelosi feels very secure in all of her own back-door dealings and unethical behavior. She knows that no one will dig up dirt on her or sling mud on her either because she has the ‘goods on them’ or other communists in our government will see to it they are discredited (or worse). If anyone tries to expose her communistic ways to the general public, they would forever be silenced in one way, shape or form. Remember, communists’ demand things go their way; they have zero tolerance for anything else. Either they have total power over people, or they are trying to discredit hard working, honest Americans. There is not a person alive who is perfect and just because of our human nature we can say all of us have done things we are not proud of. However, moving America away from being a Free and Sovereign nation, Nancy Pelosi is leading us into servitude and tyrannical control. We are being enslaved by debt, bad policies and guilt for not being compassionate to others.

What we need is a leader; a Republican is who is stronger than the entire communist consortium in our government. We need this person to be someone who can withstand the plethora of dirt that will be thrown at them; someone who can wipe the mud off of themselves and become the LEADER of the greatest country in the world. Who can be that leader? Right now it is emerging as Newt Gingrich. Why do I say this? Well, look at what length the democrats are willing go to discredit him. Nancy Pelosi, one who has NEVER followed the LAW of this land, is willing to break the LAW to expose some dirt on Newt. She is willing to sling mud all over him and to ‘Hell with the consequences.’ She knows with her communists’ buddies already in place in our government, there will NEVER be any consequences. This is par for the course when dealing with communists.

In Summary

So here is what we have to be aware of: The Democrats want ALL of us live in tyranny. They want us to be scared to say or do anything for fear of some retaliation; to NOT be able to express our First Amendment Rights. They want to subvert America into a Socialistic and Communistic Society where only THEY are in control of every aspect of our lives. They want to do away with consumer demand where we can now choose to buy something or not. They want YOU to believe and feel guilty for not having enough compassion for those people who refuse to work for a living. They will launch scare tactics to make us believe Republicans are evil and dishonest, will deflect any and all responsibility for what they are doing onto other people and other political parties and they will threaten us at every turn.

If we do not stand up, like our parents and grandparents did to these socialistic and communistic parasites, they will drain our life-blood from us and leave us with a stinking hulk that was once The United States of America. Stand up and let your voice be heard; we will NOT tolerate Nancy Pelosi and the socialistic practices they are ramming down our throats!

Comment:

I don't know if I am a 'member of this blog' or not but I guess I will soon know!

From outside, and by saying that I really disqualify myself, it reads like paranoia to me that you brand Pilosi with any totalitarian label.

In the land of free speech and free elections there seems to be little tolerance for diversity. There are some of the Right one could brand a Nazi but having that philosophy seems less problematical than Democratic Socialism which is how I would describe the philosophies of Obama a far cry from both Nazism and Communism which in our experience were imposed in Germany and the USSR by force not by persuasion via the ballot box.

Here in Oz, there were attempts to ban the Communist Party in McCarthy's paranoid fifties but it failed because wiser heads decided that although their pro-USSR rhetoric was extreme, voters were trusted to see through it and we did, so it was never driven underground where it could have attracted sociopaths as do all 'secret' societies, the discredited KKK included.

So in closing, let me say it is my opinion that we should rejoice in the fact that we welcome opinions from all individuals in our multi-everything societies as a sign that debate is free and healthy and let the good sense of voters decide who they want to represent them.

Newt might make a good president, who knows? But unfortunately, like others before him, potential presidents seem to be judged on their sexual history rather than their administration skills. Or is there something important she knows about him that should disqualify him?

Here I agree that if she has something to say she should spit it out and let it be judged, not undermine his campaign by innuendo.

Evidence of crime comes to light after seventy years.

2012-01-23T09:36:00.007+10:00

Yeomans Bay was empty when we arrived to take up a public mooring, but there was a problem.
In bold black was the caveat. '14 metres max. Penalty $3,300'. Heavy Metal is 16.4 M, so we moved away and dropped anchor in 11 metres in a moderate wind and tied the stern off to a rock to protect a Tupperware yacht on a mooring within swinging range.
So why am I boring you with this?

During WWII, in this area of wooded bays of deep water surrounded by high sandstone hills, ships were hidden from Japanese submarines operating off the coast. In Refuge Bay, just a few miles away, a captured Japanese fishing boat, renamed Krait after the deadly little sea snake of the same name, was prepared for her heroic journey to Singapore where this little fishing boat successfully penetrated Japanese defences and using canoes and limpet mines, her Australian crew destroyed 35,000 tons of Japanese shipping then escaped in the confusion to return untouched to Australia.

While untying the stern line I noticed an anomaly in the waterside vegetation and investigated. There I found a nest of very old beer bottles, some broken, some not and took one for closer investigation. This thick dark brown bottle is inscribed; 'This bottle is the property of'' around the neck, then around the base; 'The NSW Bottle Co Pty Ltd' followed by a crest, then; 'I.S. 89D1411971', under which is a double ring of raised lumps that would make it a little less likely to slip.

As far as I can ascertain, these bottles were produced back when glass containers were returned to bottlers to be refilled and they paid about 6 pence each for them. The inscriptions and numbers suggest they were bought between 1930 and 1950 so considering the history of this bay, one can imagine a scenario that brought these bottles to this place.

Imagine a few dozen Australian servicemen holed up here waiting, bored and thirsty. These were young men with guts who had volunteered for very dangerous missions.

They were resourceful and bold so it is not difficult to believe some would steal a one dozen case of beer from Stores and have a little drunken soirée, leaving the tell tale bottles under the thick forest floor where they lay hidden for almost seventy years.

.......................

To read an excellent account of the Krait adventure, see. www.lynettesilver.com/bookkrait.html
Pic Heavy Metal in Yeomans Bay courtesy Gerhard Malan, http://www.svsunnyspells.com

Magpie 101: Tenderness.

2012-01-23T06:07:00.001+10:00

Echko Namazawa

Stage doll of Nipon
Dancing through my
Nights of magic.

Body of grace and
Exquisite face were
Beyond lust.

But while I slept,
She came once unbidden
To my room.

Waking to soft hands,
I should have, but could not
Send her away.

...............

Many read this poem at its last outing and I pray your indulgence again. She still lives in the loveliest of my memories where beauty and wonder never fade.

This memory prompted by Tess at Magpie Tales.

Magpie-blub one-blubdred.

2012-01-19T08:16:00.000+10:00

If dying by violence, the best
is drowning, as experts attest;
I'd rather have choice
to choose something noice,
and not put that theory to test!

......................

If anyone presumed I had drowned, they are wrong.
My lack of blog activity is mainly due to lack of access.
Here in Yeoman's Bay there is the occasional blip, just enough to push a Magpie into Cyberspace.
But in case anyone is tempted to feel sorry for me, I include these i-camera shots of my surrounds taken a few minutes ago. The 27 fish in the bucket are tailor caught yesterday and now in my fridge! Other shots are of the bay facing north and south. Oh how I am suffering in this silence and isolation!

You can find intelligent and serious contributions at Magpie Tales.

New Years Eve 2011.

2012-01-05T17:54:00.000+10:00

Friday dawned calm and cool, light breeze forecast and although on the nose, it was only four hours after all, so it was go, destination Snails Bay, just upstream from the 'coathanger' where the traffic is light and the view excellent. Lisajane was aboard, first time at sea, so we dosed her up and she enjoyed the ride, particularly the second half when we were able to hoist the Genoa mainly to keep her steady against the SE swells.
Coming through Sydney Heads, with high and rugged cliffs on both sides, we could almost have been Arthur Philip, entering for the first time. Cook had sailed past unaware of the labyrinth of bays where, as Philip remarked 'could anchor three hundred ships of the line' or the river beyond that could have taken them upstream to where Parramatta now stands and relatively fertile land was available.
Since then I have felt too tired to blog, BUT we had aboard designer, photographer and blogger Cate Holst who's photos came out well, so we could do worse than refer you to her blog for some good shots.
Be strong and scroll down past her mango tart recipe, the last of which we gobbled down last night with the (almost) last of IXL's wine trifle.
We have a day of recovery today before we are overwhelmed by my youngest and her energetic brood tomorrow.

Black and white Magpie

2011-12-29T05:57:00.000+10:00

Tragic life
Role model
A generation.

Hidden
Unknown
Beyond blondness.

Written for Magpie Tales with compassion for all of us who live in a persona, tragically fearing judgement of our reality.

Magpie in a purple treehouse Haiku

2011-12-24T05:54:00.001+10:00

To you I was a subject
To me you were a shadow
I wanted more

For Magpie Tales and The Purple Tree House Haiku Challenge.
And to my Christian friends, I send a wish for a Happy Christmas, to my Muslims friends, seasons greetings and to the Atheists, a year of human cooperation.

Kidnapped for ransom.

2011-12-12T03:21:00.000+10:00

I’m up to my nipples in sand,
The tide’s coming in again and
This time, I’m afraid
You win, Tess Kincaid
I’ll give you the five hundred grand!

Take the risk and visit Tess at Magpie Tales but run if she's toting a shovel!

Dart: Verb transitive, to move suddenly. Dart: Noun. 1. Pointy thing thrown in the general direction of a target to fill in time between drinks. 2. Sewing term meaning shortening by pleating and sewing together a triangular section.

2011-12-07T05:24:00.004+10:00

The pattern did not work. Where the sections overlapped, there would be three layers of material. An experiment using a small off-cut revealed the flaw. Three layers fitted (only just) under the foot when it was lifted to its highest point. That raised a sweat and but I went ahead anyway.
When the machine hit three layers of vinyl at the seam it made a very unsettling noise and jammed with the needle down. So, remembering Sue J's advice, I opened the bobbin thingy and removed it. Apparently the machine could not pull the needle with thread back up through three layers, so I cleared the needle and had a rethink.

Here is the BBQ on its table, so you can see its complicated shape. Yes, I made the table from left over bits of seating and window polyglass. The curled up tube is the gas bottle connector and you can see its control on the right. The cover must go over the whole thing so it can be left attached to the rail and still be protected from sun and rain. On the right just visible under a towel is a bit of my old pirate ship wheel, covered to keep the sun off.

So as an experiment, the vinyl sheet was laid over the whole thing and the corner darts pinned from the underside until it fitted as well as a flat sheet can. Then the darts were sewn with straight stitching several times, each time making the darts tighter until it slipped over the BBQ and table neatly then the excess was removed. Next, a 3/4" hem to hold elastic was sewn all round using the widest zig-zag, stopping at each dart where the direction was reversed for an inch or so to prevent unravelling, then missing the dart and starting again on the other side.

SFX: Drum roll. Ta dah!

(There will be no close up shots of the hem stitching or the knee deep mess on the floor). When the elastic is threaded through, the plan is to hand sew the gaps (if necessary).
Sewing is now suspended. This morning I am off to Sydney by train to help IXL with her project (garments for the Canberra Hand Made Market Dec 17 and 18) where I am not allowed to sew. My principal function there is to run errands, mop brows, mutter soothing words and pour whiskey. Friday back here to get Heavy Metal ready for her move to Sydney for the festivities, including anchoring in the harbour for the excellent New Years Eve fire works display.
There will be photos if I can remember to take them.

Hey! A guy has to start somewhere!

2011-12-06T06:06:00.001+10:00

When is a tailor a sewer?
So here I was home with my seven metres of duck, two reels of polyester thread I was assured was UV stable and a set of leather needles. But I was nowhere near confident that I was ready for the big jobs so I cast about for practice material and there hanging beside the hatchway was a bevy of holey shopping bags.

I reckon those green (black, blue, pink) bags are built to last about a week then degrade but hey, who cares if I stuff up! So I zigged and I zagged over rips and tears giving new life to half a dozen old bags. But there was one with an actual hole.

So, I cut a bit of old cloth and sewed it inside,

then zig-zagged over the raggedy edges.

As Ninotaziz pointed out, the term for a bloke who sews is a tailor. But after viewing this effort she may agree I am still a sewer; effective but messy.

Today, back to Spotlight for some marine vinyl. Why? I need more practice, so the next job is a cover for the BBQ. The pattern is almost done, so be patient.

You had better be quick!

2011-12-05T06:40:00.000+10:00

A few years ago I had a new sail cover made from duck at a cost of $500.
A sail cover is pretty basic. Just a more or less rectangular sheet, hemmed with a zipper on one end and an eyelet on the other, with a few clip-together straps in between.
As I now need two new sail covers plus new mattress covers plus new covers for the dining alcove cushions, plus (if I can handle it) sail repairs, I decided that I need a sewing machine and began to research them. I was advised I would need a machine that had a 'walking foot' for the thick stuff, a high lift foot and was powerful enough for vinyl and leather.
At Spotlight (FYO Spotlight sells mainly stuff for sewers. No, silly, not those smelly old pipes in the ground, I mean those old fashioned people who still make things with needle and thread), with IXL, who had developed a yen to compete with Beijing and sew clothes for sale, I saw what I wanted. It had all of the above.

How much? $249.
I thought that was a bit too cheap to be any good but was advised by Lynne that it came with a three year warranty. Then when I hesitated because I was still wondering if it was too cheap to be any good, Lynne advised me to 'wait until next week and it is on special for $75 off'.
So I told her to put my name on it and I would be back. Then, while IXL was busy choosing enough cloth to do a Christo and wrap Sydney Harbour Bridge, I filled out the application form and received a VIP Club card.

Two days later, in the paper there appeared an ad for Spotlight that offered 20% off all sewing machines. Also I was reminded that VIP membership entitled me to a further $40 off any purchase over $100!
Are you still with me?

The math is as follows:
20% off $249 (rounded) is $50, plus the VIP discount of $40 comes to a total discount of $90!

When I presented the ad and my VIP card to Lynne, she was surprised to say the least. But she agreed with my maths, so here is my brand new Toyota Jeans machine for $160! Howzat!
(This confluence of offers ends today).

Lunch time Magpie

2011-12-05T05:57:00.001+10:00

Hey Fritz! Did you hear the one about the...
Shuddup 'n eat!

My reaction to this week's Magpie Tales prompt.
( I would hate to work there!)

Found this while surfing the web

2011-12-03T10:54:00.000+10:00

Ode to boat people

Seeking dreams on foreign soil
The creak of salt soaked timbers
oil and diesel assail the nose
stretched upon the deck huddled
stench of fear uncertainty

Journey of months for some
Others years of labour hardships
All are equal on this boat on fear
Drift sleep sip water sleep again

The sailors cruel no compassion
Greed money unlawful desire
Pray to god land be near
Day and night nothing changes

Shift in mood the sailors scurry
Shadow of grey upon the horizon
Anticipation the journey end
Booming voice a new journey begins

Simyart

In Australia the 'boat people' debate has been a political football for years causing so much unnecessary pain to the most vulnerable of people.
Most of Simyart's poetry is romantic and can be found at http://simyart.tumblr.com/

Parallel Universes.

2011-12-01T09:42:00.002+10:00

.
Newspaper headlines. (Often in same edition).

Oceans dying from CO2 acidification,
Newcastle Ports proposes new 2.7 billion coal loader.

Murray-Darling needs more flow to maintain system health.
Irrigators say cuts to water entitlements ‘irresponsible’.

Four trawlers mothballed at Mooloolaba for lack of fish.
Sign on fisherman’s ute: “Fix the fishery; shoot a greenie!”

How will we feed nine billion people in 2050?
Government pays baby bonus to increase birth rate.

AIDS epidemic in Africa. 40 million infected.
Pope bans use of condoms.

Challenge:
Add your own 'parallel universe couplet' as a comment!.

Maybe you got this in your inbox too.

2011-12-01T05:09:00.000+10:00

Subject: Just a good example

"SOME IDEAS ARE SO STUPID ONLY INTELLECTUALS BELIEVE THEM."
George Orwell

When the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great, but when government takes all the reward away, no one will try or want to succeed.
Is this man truly a genius? Checked out and this is true...it DID happen!

An economics professor at a local college made a statement that he had never failed a single student before, but had recently failed an entire class. That class had insisted that Obama's socialism worked and that no one would be poor and no one would be rich, a great equalizer.

The professor then said, "OK, we will have an experiment in this class on Obama's plan". All grades will be averaged and everyone will receive the same grade so no one will fail and no one will receive an A.... (substituting grades for dollars - something closer to home and more readily understood by all).

After the first test, the grades were averaged and everyone got a B. The students who studied hard were upset and the students who studied little were happy. As the second test rolled around, the students who studied little had studied even less and the ones who studied hard decided they wanted a free ride too so they studied little.

The second test average was a D! No one was happy.

When the 3rd test rolled around, the average was an F.

As the tests proceeded, the scores never increased as bickering, blame and name-calling all resulted in hard feelings and no one would study for the benefit of anyone else.

To their great surprise, ALL FAILED and the professor told them that socialism would also ultimately fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great, but when government takes all the reward away, no one will try or want to succeed.
It could not be any simpler than that.
Remember, there IS a test coming up. The 2012 elections.

These are possibly the 5 best sentences you'll ever read and all applicable to this experiment:

1. You cannot legislate the poor into prosperity by legislating the wealthy out of prosperity.
2. What one person receives without working for, another person must work for without receiving.
3. The government cannot give to anybody anything that the government does not first take from somebody else.
4. You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it!
5. When half of the people get the idea that they do not have to work because the other half is going to take care of them, and when the other half gets the idea that it does no good to work because somebody else is going to get what they work for, that is the beginning of the end of any nation.

...............

My comment:
Can you really believe that any university would really do that? Can you believe any group of students would all return a paper with an opinion opposite to that of their professor? Did Obama really say: 'no one will be rich and no one will be poor'?
In this society there is a such inequity because we do not value the work of people who clean hospital floors for $4 an hour but do value a director of Lehmann Brothers who gives himself a $30 million bonus for dreaming up yet another way to siphon off more wealth through dodgy accounting. Who is offering value for money? Do you really think the cleaning lady could ever become a director of Lehman Brothers because of the rewards that offers?

Perhaps if George Bush's tax break billionaires paid their fair share of tax, she might be paid enough to not need food stamps and maybe put her kids through university and surely a million or two for sitting around a board table is enough, and like her, only if he performs.

Nobody is suggesting everyone gets the same rewards, just that the extremes are pulled in a bit so more of the pie can be shared. That seems to me what Obama wants, but propaganda like the above with it dishonest and simplistic message is paid for by the very rich to influence voters and it works. I wonder how many cleaning ladies can pay a PR company to flood the internet with such crap!

How about we send this quote out to Republicans and Tea Party members?
H.L. Mencken said: "For every complex problem, there is an answer that is clear, simple--and wrong."

Detritus

2011-11-29T06:49:00.000+10:00

Abandoned
at a place
that is shunned;
even by the homeless
and other street litter

Written for Magpie Talesafter a visit with a mentally ill relative who has lost hope.

Oo la-la!

2011-11-21T04:13:00.000+10:00

We tried it for all we was worf
To kiss, but no way on this earf!
His outsize proboscis
At first really stopped us,
Until we found bliss soixante-neuf!

Note: You will be relieved to learn there is no second verse.
More Magpie Tales can be found here.

Mission Impossible.

2011-11-15T05:31:00.002+10:00

.

I told you I'd done it with pairs
Of cows, horses, even with hares.
But what you are asking
Is past multi-tasking.
Have you ever tried herding chairs?!

..............................

Latin version.
Chairs upon chairs upon chairs infinitum,
Mystery milieu, a ghostly conundrum.
What is this miss
Doing here in the mist?
She’s looking for people to join her and sitonum!

...............................

There's always a somebody who
Will write something better than you.
So click on the link,
You'll be tickled pink
At what clever poets can do!

Moore's more-more Maw!

2011-11-08T15:48:00.001+10:00

Enormous Johnny Trencherman,
With gluttony was cursed
His rotund middle section
Ever threatening to burst.

And so it did one fateful day
When at a barbecue.
His innards just exploded out
And Johnny’s life was through.

So bits of steak flew all about,
With chops and shish kebab
Mixed up with toxic juices that were
Mainly Coke and Tab.

Some took cover under chairs
While others weren’t so blessed
And some were blown right off their feet,
But all of them were messed.

An eerie silence overwhelmed
The women, kids and men.
As pairs of eyes looked at each other,
Blinked and looked again.

And then the screams and cries began
As people voiced their fright,
And one old dear was heard to mutter;
“Not at all polite!”

So all as one, they scurried off
To shower, scrub and clean,
The hosts were left to gather up
His stomach, bowels and spleen.

They raked and swept and tidied up
For days on end until,
They’d found about enough of him
His casket, to just fill.

Then came deliberations
On what words could be said
Too mark poor Johnny’s passing
While respectful of the dead.

They came up with an epitaph
To best describe his flaw,
But stonemasons are sometimes cursed
With spelling, very poor.

So on his stone, a homophone
Appears forevermore,
The one word that he uttered most:
He’d always asked for ‘More’.

.........................

Sir Thomas Moore
He used to snore
With volume quite prepost-er-ous
And some would swear;
“I do declare,
He’s like a hippopotamus!”
.................................

Disclaimer: Any similarity to any person living or dead is absolutely intentional.
More Moores can be found at Magpie Tales.

Magpie colours

2011-10-31T18:19:00.001+10:00

.
Old technology.

I take such pains to make it right,
Avoiding mundane and the trite,
Seeking hues
Just right to use,
But out it comes in black and white!

PS. All the writers in my family were girls except the electric typewriter which was a Brother.

More writers' blues can be read about at Magpie Tales.

Where does a magpie park?

2011-10-24T19:27:00.000+10:00

Standing on a tram ticket, tomorrow a postage stamp.

He made for us, Venus and Mars
The sun and the moon and the stars.
But God made a boo-boo
That haunts me and you too,
With no parking space for our cars.

Chaos for Poetry Jam.

2011-10-20T04:35:00.001+10:00

Sifting through the chaos.

Like blind men inspecting the elephant,

Finding the clues that are relevant

Can be tricky, I know

So we need to show

Much more than the subjective element.

Here is the poem Helen referred to in her comment about the six blind men and the elephant.

More slices of Poetry Jam on toast can be found at here.

The Vicar's Duck is now a Magpie.

2011-10-17T14:18:00.002+10:00

The Vicar’s Duck
‘I do need my duck to be pure and untouched;
Not one up behind which, the sneaky drake snucked!’
“No way!”, said Wang-Ling.
“This virginal duckling,
Has never been ravished; it's only been plucked!”

More fowl stories at Magpie Tales.

Magpie's Minute Monarch

2011-10-12T05:35:00.000+10:00

Size matters.

Attracting both brunettes and blondes,
This minute mon-arch, so rotund,
Has under his suit
A large attribute;
Ten billion in bullion and bonds!

King Cupsize courtesy Crazy Tess at Magpie Tales.

PS. Tiz in dry dock, We are so busy sanding and painting, no time for posts. Photos and stories to come.

Love under the Gooseberry Bush.

2011-10-05T06:14:00.002+10:00

"Forbidden Love in the Age of Chivalry"
Worth a re-run?

The king was in his counting house,
Counting out his money;
The queen was in her parlour,
Eating bread and honey.

The Princess in her pink boudoir
Was trying on her dresses
When in came Brother Ced-er-ic,
Full lips and blonded tresses.

He slipped his clothes off quick-er-ly
And ‘fore she could resist
Her newest lacy bodice was
Adorning Cedric’s chest.

Next, he took her flowing gown
And slipped it o’er his head.
Then her rich embroidered cape.
“It’s just not fair!” He said.

A silver tear escaped his eye,
While slipping on her pumps
“The leather, tin and mail we wear
Reduces us to frumps!”

Next he donned her feathered hat
While gazing at the glass.
And smiled in satisfaction
As he whispered, “You’ve got class!”

Then, turning on his patent heel
He called down for a horse.
“Side saddle, silver stirrups
And it must be grey, of course!”

So off they rode into the sun
The stable boy and he,
Holding hands so tenderly
In love, for all to see.

So over hill and dale they rode
Until Kings Cross they spied
And there they lived in happiness
Until the day they died.

Note: Kings Cross is the Gay Haven of 'Sinney', Australia.

First posted for Jingle, Sept 2010.
FOI: Next week, the adventure starts. The love of my life and I are starting out on our big adventure; living aboard an old yacht and sailing off, two kids in our mid seventies. We intend to document our adventures with photos and tales of cowardice as we rock hop along the coast of Eastern Australia, destination for now, Sydney, to see our kids and grand kids (new one due November) over Christmas and New Year.

Magpie Tales of airborne pachyderms.

2011-10-03T12:24:00.001+10:00

No matter how much you might try

To launch yourself into the sky.

You share the name ‘Jumbo’

With jets, silly Dumbo;

But they need four engines to fly!

Q: What does one do when an elephant is flying overhead?

A: Raise your umbrella.

Wait! There's more.

Q: What has twenty-two legs, two wings and eleven arseholes?
A: Arsenal!
And... and... apropos of nothing, but to balance that weak effort,
Q: What has one eye, three legs and half an arsehole.

A: Lobster thermidor.
I will stop now before I offend myself. (Or feel inclined to react to the suggestion of climate change: coal fired power stations and sea level rise and the plight of elephants whose million year history will end because they cannot fly away.)

More classy contributions can be sighted at Magpie Tales.

'Genesis' for Bluebell Books

2011-10-02T05:17:00.002+10:00

First there was the word
And the word was God.
Planets and stars bursting
From His mouth

Coated with saliva,
Alive with microbes.
Destined to evolve
Into Man and beyond.

More bubbles at Bluebell Books.

Gaza gazing.

2011-09-27T07:20:00.002+10:00

Me and you and Netanyahu,

What, oh what are we to do?

Say we let the hate abate,

And let them have a separate state?

Me and you, Mahmood Abbas

Help us make it come to pass.

Accept the presence of the Jew,

Most native born, the same as you.

……………………….

We all hoped for peace for this tortured piece real estate many times and every time we are disappointed.

This poem, first published in Poetry 24 is hopeful but the reality is far from it.

On the radio yesterday, a current affairs program pointed out that the Israeli voting demographic was moving away from the possibility of a sensible solution for the same reason as Palestinians were, ie, large religious families.

Secular Jews, who work, serve in Defence, pay taxes, grow stuff and make things, have an average of two children per couple. Hasidic Jews, who study only the Talmud and other Holy Scripture, are never trained to work, produce children at about eight per couple and increasingly control Government policy.

Project that ahead a generation and we can see a compelling reason for a solution NOW!

Pic. stolen from Business Week.

Magpie 84, Numerology 3. Faith, Hope and... whatever happened to Charity?

2011-09-26T05:35:00.000+10:00

Why did you cause the rain to fall?
Right now? Dear God, do you recall?
We prayed to thee,
Magpie and me;
“A full moon for the Willow Ball!?”

Pic of bedraggled woman and bird courtesy of Tess at Willow Manor.

An afterthought:
(In the bilge of my steel yacht, while scraping away at corrosion)
“In God we rust”.

Magpie joins snake week!

2011-09-19T05:51:00.001+10:00

Music in the pit.

A suff’rer of herpetophilia
Kept all sorts of dang’rous reptilia.
For them she would play
On her fife ev’ry day.
Have you ever heard anything sillier!?

This stupidity was prompted by Tess Kincaid at Willow Manor.

.

Mouse in the House for Bluebell Books.

2011-09-17T06:36:00.001+10:00

Here are two of a series of vocabulary extension plays for classroom use.

(Copyright Stafford Ray).

Mouse in the House (furniture and animals).

Characters:

Manfred/Millicent Mouse

Gertrude Grouch

Gerald Grouch

Ceefer Cat

Deefer Dog

Peter/Patricia Python

Mr/Ms Snake Catcher.

Storyteller.

Act 1. Mouse in the house.

Storyteller: Manfred Mouse is playing hide and seek with Ceefer Cat when Gertrude Grouch comes in and sees Manfred. She screams for Gerald Grouch to come and catch the mouse. He doesn’t think a mouse in the house is as serious as Gertrude thinks it is.

He thinks it would be far more serious if there was a rat in the refrigerator. He thinks a good idea to keep the house free of rats and mice would be to have a pet python, so he brings one home.

……………………………..

Scene: a kitchen/dining room with a table and several chairs.

There are cupboards labelled Pantry, Crockery, Sideboard and one labelled Refrigerator.

Action: Manfred Mouse and Ceefer Cat are playing cat and mouse (hide and seek). Manfred enters and hides under the table. Ceefer looks for him.

Manfred : (runs across the kitchen to hide under the table) You can’t find me! You can’t find me!

Ceefer : (looking into a cupboard labelled ‘Pantry’) Are you in the pantry?

Manfred : No, I am not in the pantry!

Ceefer : (looking into a cupboard labelled ‘Crockery’) Are you in the crockery cupboard?

Manfred : No, I am not in the crockery cupboard!

Ceefer : (looking under a cupboard labelled ‘Sideboard’) Are you under the sideboard?

Manfred : No, I am not under the sideboard!

Ceefer : (looks under the table, sees Manfred) Is that you under the table?

Manfred : Yes! (Scampers out and holds a chair between himself and Ceefer) You can’t catch me! (Leaves chair, runs off) You can’t catch me!

Manfred, closely pursued by Ceefer runs off as Gertrude enters. Manfred runs past her as she screams in terror but Ceefer collides with her and they both fall down.

Gertrude : (screams in terror) Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (calls loudly to Gerald) Gerald! (Ceefer runs into her) Ceefer! Be careful! (still on the floor, calls again to Gerald) Gerald! Come here!

Ceefer : (scrambling to his feet) I almost had him then! (complains to Gertrude) If you hadn’t been in the way I would have caught him!

Gerald : (running on) What are you screaming about, Gertrude?

Gertrude : (stands and points to where Manfred went) There’s a mouse in the house!

Gerald : (laughing) Ha ha! A mouse! (points at her in fun) Are you afraid of a little mouse! Ha ha ha!

Ceefer : (complains to Gerald) If she hadn’t been in the way I would have caught him then!

Gerald : (points to Ceefer) You couldn’t catch a mouse! (laughs) You couldn’t even catch a cold! (points off) get out if here, useless!

Ceefer : Meowwwwwww! (leaves unhappily).

Gertrude : (angrily) Gerald Grouch! (points to Ceefer) There is no need to be disrespectful to my cat!

Gerald : Disrespectful! (looks at Ceefer retreating) There is nothing to respect! Your cat is as useless as a two legged stool!

Mouse looks around the door cheekily and is seen by Gertrude.

Gertrude : (pointing at Manfred) Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! There it is!

Gerald : (looks around but Manfred has gone) I can’t see any mouse. (hands on hips) I think you imagined it!

Gertrude : (pleading) Please Gerald, please catch the mouse for me.

Gerald : (shaking his head) You are making a lot of fuss over one little mouse! (points to the refrigerator) What would you say if you found a rat in the refrigerator?

Gertrude : (worried look) A rat in the refrigerator? (hands on hips) How would a rat get into the refrigerator?

Gerald : (points to the refrigerator, nodding and smiling) There’s one in there.

Gertrude : (indignantly) There is not! (she opens the refrigerator door, jumps back and screams) Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee! There is a rat in the refrigerator! (slams the refrigerator door) What is that rat doing in my refrigerator?

Gerald : (laughs) Ha ha! It’s sleeping!

Gertrude : (crossly) Don’t be silly Gerald Grouch, I am serious!

Gerald : (Beckons Peter Python who enters as he speaks) The rat in the refrigerator is food for Peter (leads Peter on stage, arm around Peter’s shoulders) Peter is my pet python!

Gertrude : (screams again) Eeeeeeee! Snake! (runs off) Eeeeeeeeee! It’s a snake!

Peter : (watches Gertrude run off, turns to Gerald) What’s wrong with her?

Gerald : I have no idea! (shakes his head) She is a strange woman!

Peter : Yes, she is. I can’t imagine why she was so frightened!

Gerald : Me neither!

They walk off arm in arm.

…………………………………..

Act 2. Python in the Pantry.

Storyteller: Gertrude objects to Gerald’s pet python slithering around the house and calls Snake Catcher to take Peter Python away.

Gertrude : (opens the door labelled Pantry, jumps back in fright) Eeeeeeeek! Gerald! That python is in the pantry!

Gerald : (calls from off) I know! I put it there.

Gertrude : (angrily) Gerald! I don’t want a python in my pantry!

Gerald : (enters and pulls Peter from the pantry) Look, it’s only Peter.

Peter : (smiles and holds arms out to her) Look! It’s only Peter!

Gertrude : (jump back and cringes in horror) Only Peter? (terrified) Gerald! Peter is an enormous snake!

Gerald : (pats Peter’s head proudly) Yes he is a very big snake, isn’t he!

Gertrude : (angrily) Gerald! (stomps out) I’m calling the Snake Catcher to take it away!

Peter : (sadly) But I like it here!

Gerald : (strokes his back) Don’t worry buddy, I won’t let them take you away!

Deefer runs on barking at Peter, bites him.

Deefer : (running on barking) Bark! Bark! Bark! Don’t worry Gerald. I’ll save you from the snake. Bark! Bark!!

Peter : Help! (jumps into the pantry as Deefer bites him) Owwwwwww!

Gerald : (pulling Deefer off) Deefer! Let go of my Python! (closes the pantry door with Peter inside)

Deefer : But, (panting) Huh! Huh! Huh! Bark! Bark! I thought he was going to eat you!

Gerald : (laughs) Ha ha! Diamond pythons don’t eat people!

Deefer : (panting happily) Huh huh huh! That’s all right then.

Gerald : (laughs) They only eat dogs, hahaha!

Deefer : (terrified yelp) Yow! They eat dogs? (runs off whimpering) Owwwww Owwwwww!

Peter : (from inside the pantry) Can I come out now?

Gerald opens the pantry door as Gertrude enters with Snake Catcher who is carrying a huge sack.

Gertrude : (points to Peter) There he is, the big brute!

Gerald slams the door shut on Peter and stands in front of the door to keep Snake Catcher away.

Gerald : There has been a misunderstanding.

Snake Catcher: (sympathetically) I know pythons are harmless, but (shrugs) if they frighten people and dogs, perhaps they are better off in the zoo.

There is scuffling and thumping sounds, then a squeak from inside the pantry. Thumping continues for some time. They all move back, watching until the noise stops.

Gerald then opens the door and Peter staggers out with a pillow stuffed down his front. Deefer sneaks on and watches from a safe distance.

Gerald : (horrified) Peter! Poor Peter! (holds Peter to steady him) What happened to you?

Peter : (burps, pats stomach) Mouse!

Gertrude : (amazed) You ate the mouse?

Peter : Delicious!

Snake Catcher : (taking Peter’s arm to drag him off) Come on Peter, there are lots of nice friendly pythons down at the zoo!

Gertrude : (grabs Pete’s other arm and drags him away from Snake Catcher) Wait a minute! I think I want to keep him after all!

Peter takes Gertrude and Gerald’s arms and they dance. Deefer takes one look at Peter, yelps and follows Snake Catcher off.

…………………………..

Plays for classroom use are available for purchase. Want to know more? E-mail me.
Age range is from kindies to year 10, many with educational themes and most with music recorded on CD for teaching and performance. Free samples.

Prompt from Bluebell Books, http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.com/2011/09/short-story-slam-week-10-childrens.html

Python pic borrowed from http://www.pitt.edu/~mcs2/herp/python.html.

Aura Dior. A Magpie tale.

2011-09-14T04:47:00.000+10:00

Clothes maketh the ghost.

It just shows that we are such prudes,

depicting our Revenant dudes

in white flowing garments

when really, the varmints

would most likely come back as nudes!

More revenant revelations at Magpie Tales.

Hearsay

2011-09-12T06:15:00.001+10:00

Yesterday I heard,
‘A 10c can and bottle deposit system would do little to improve recycling.’
Source: Coca Cola -Amatil.

Last week I heard,
‘There is no credible evidence that mobile phones usage raises the risk of brain tumours.’
Source: Eriksson, Nokia etc.

Last month I heard,
‘Coal seam gas fracking was safe and would not harm groundwater.’
Source: Arrow Energy.

A year ago I heard,
‘A price on carbon would cripple the economy.’
Source: ‘Climate change is bunkum” Abbott.

Two years ago I heard,
‘Big miners will cease operations in Australia if their profits are taxed.’
Source: Rio Tinto and BHP Billiton.

Twenty years ago I heard,
‘Lead in petrol is essential to prevent engine wear.’
Source: GM, Ford, Chrysler, Toyota, Nissan, etc.

Thirty years ago I heard,
‘You cannot build brake pads, linings and clutches without asbestos.’
Source: Hardy-Ferodo.

Forty years ago I heard,
‘There is no evidence that tobacco smoking is harmful.’
Source: Philip Morris and British Tobacco.

Fifty years ago I heard,
‘A self abuser very often goes out of his mind and becomes an idiot.’
Source: Lord Baden Powell.

Sixty years ago I heard,
‘Wanking causes blindness.’
Source: Some kids at school.

Poetry Jam

2011-09-10T05:09:00.001+10:00

She bought them to bring her some pleasure

But now were too many to measure.

Her hamsters so fecund

Bred more every secund

And now overran the enclosure!

So, out of this terrible mess,
That caused such emotional stress,

She thought of a plan

To make hamster jam

As a way to relieve the excess.

With hamsters and sugar she toiled
And hundreds of thousands she boiled

So nothing was wasted.

But when it was tasted
‘Twas clear all the jam had been spoiled

So out of the window she threw

Her gallons of hamster jam brew.

But to her surprise

Before her old eyes,

A garden of tulips soon grew!

So lovely and tall they had grown

With colours she rarely had known.

‘But why did they grow

Outside her window?’

She asked her friend Sam on the phone.

She told him her hamster jam plan

And Sam said “It’s no myst'ry, Maam.

I’m sure I’m not wrong,

Like it says in the song;

They’re 'Tulips from Hamster Jam'!”

Tulip photo from the fabulous Keukenhof Gardens in Amsterdam.
Note: The joke is old. Only the setting is new. :-)

A Parallel Reality.

2011-09-06T07:43:00.001+10:00

Tresses enhanced with fine oils from Iran,
Violin turned out of wood from Japan.
Dressed in an outfit of best Chinese silk,
Shoes of fine leather, Canadian elk.

Scores on white paper from Norway and there,
A bow of white strings, from goodness knows where.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner, our food interalia,
Wheaties and crumpets from far off Australia.

Opera house sound, so rich and inviting.
Comfortable seats and indirect lighting.
Music and art, the magnificent whole,
Brought here together to nourish the soul.

Photo is of Mairead Nesbitt.

Magpie's lost habitat.

2011-09-05T05:19:00.000+10:00

Reality.

The only people
on this earth
who create wealth
are fishermen, farmers
and manufacturers.

The rest of us,
from presidents
to professors,
from bankers to brokers
are hired help.

Discuss.

See more stories of broken dreams and broken hearts at Magpie Tales.

My first comic strip for Funny Bunny Friday.

2011-09-04T07:26:00.002+10:00

Trespassers will be forgiven.

Prompt by Funny Bunny Friday for Purple Treehouse.
Pics assembled from various clip art.

Beyond a joke.

2011-09-03T07:33:00.001+10:00

You may remember me posting a picture of a willy wagtail that visits me often, flying in through a hatchway, scolding me for a few minutes, then flying off again to return in a few days for a repeat performance. OK, so we suspect he/she wants a hand out.

But yesterday, I heard his/her scolding voice as I walked onto the wharf and saw her/him perched on a trawler, clearly aiming his/her attention at me. Then, he /she followed me along, flitting from boat to boat, continuing his/her admonitions until I climbed aboard.

I made coffee and was just about to take a sip when lo and behold there she/he was in the saloon, perched on the Captain’s Chair, continuing the tirade!

That is him/her perched on my new beach towel draped over the chair, (keeping out the UV's).

I talked back to him/her assuring her/him that I was sorry if he/she thought I had offended him/her. He/she seemed to listen, then flitted off again, delivering a last blast from the companionway before disappearing!

Now, after due consideration, I have decided it is a she so no more he/she. Why?
The similarity of tone and persistence is too reminiscent of one of my wives who had, over the fifteen years of our marriage crafted nagging into an art form, not to be unconnected... I do believe it is her!

Now I will get all soppy and tell you, that although we separated for good reason, I did love her, cried at her funeral for lost opportunities and only a couple of days ago was reminded by 'My Hero' of happier times which erased some of the many regrets that visit my consciousness in the wee small hours.

Recognition.

2011-09-02T05:56:00.000+10:00

Her love had been at sea for two years and every day she waited at the water’s edge in her wedding dress and at night took her lantern to guide his ship back to her safe haven.

It seemed he would never come but her vigil continued and her prayers were answered.
“A ship, his ship! I know it is him!” She shouted to the Heavens.
“Only he would forget to lower his sails in an onshore wind!”

Longer short stories to titillate can be found at Bluebell Books.

Stop the world, I want to stay off.

2011-09-01T08:08:00.002+10:00

Listening to John Howard on 7.30 Report reminded me of why he was rejected, but also the reasons for his long reign. My impression? He could make a comeback if he wanted the job.

What he had to say about decisiveness was the key. George Bush called him the Man of Iron for good reason and that reason was his willingness to act decisively but basically on intuition. His decisiveness led to our involvement in Iraq, arguably a war crime that resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocents. A decisive move by the current government to boost our economy during the GFC by subsiding house insulation led, in a roundabout way, to the accidental deaths of four young installers and a general impression the Government is incompetent. The ‘pink batt debacle’ is continually being revived as evidence of bad government but is never compared to the ‘War crime in Iraq’ debacle.

When asked about Iraq, he restated in his own decisive manner that Iraq was ‘the right decision.’ No argument, no self doubt, no indecisiveness, no discussion. He was not reminded he knew the WMD scare was false, and when talking about refugees, he was not reminded he lied about that to manipulate public opinion. So why do we prefer decisiveness over honesty, thoughtful debate and exploration of options? He knows, as does his acolyte Tony Abbott, that enough of our people so prefer not to be bothered with issues, that we will change our government rather than do the homework.

Our current government, made up of Labor, Greens and Independents has produced a period of negotiated consensus I think has produced needed reform and balanced policies. But it looks messy and that gives the Opposition plenty to attack and attack they do, with hate signs at rallies, blatant lies in outrageous scare campaigns, personal attacks, dishonest insinuations via the Murdock Press, culminating in one politician saying the Prime Minister is evil and should be shot! In the secrecy of the ballot box our true attitudes are expressed. We are returning to jingoism and intolerance as we scurry away from facing facts.

In this ambience, JH again showed that he is still the Man of Iron, with his attitudes to workers, foreigners, refugees and minor parties unchanged and his rewriting of history still evident in his ‘non-core’ memories.

Related short story.
A Returned Soldiers League President, after a 'few too many' was on the microphone.
"Australia is the best bloody country in the world!" (Shouts of encouragement and sporadic clapping).
Voice from the back; "You've been overseas then have yer mate?!"
The President:
"Nah! Fuck 'em!"

Unrelated story (for now).
This morning’s sobering hot-off-the-press investment advice: ‘buy coal shares!’ Why? India just announced the construction of 147 new coal fired power stations.

What do we think climate change denier and Carbon Tax allergic, T Abbott will do with that!? Sigh!

Pregnant Magpie.

2011-08-30T04:46:00.002+10:00

Cravings.

Chocolates at this hour?
It must be the baby.
Babies don’t eat chocolates.
This one does… please!
But it’s raining!
Take my red umbrella.

See more red umbrellas at Magpie Tales.

Under the Gooseberry Bush.

2011-08-30T04:29:00.000+10:00

The Kiss.

Softest brush,
barely felt.
warm, dry,
inviting.

Then again,
open, wet.
Hot, sweet,
a promise.

In response to Gooseberry Bush Poetry.

What are we eating?

2011-08-29T07:04:00.000+10:00

First a little biology.
Plants take up CO2 through pores on the underside of leaves called stomates or stomata. Pic: Tomato leaf stomate.

When we spray systemic herbicides onto plants, that is where the poison enters and from there it flows throughout the plant, blocking a vital process and the plant dies.

Roundup remains in the plant until the plant dies when it is incorporated into soil. There, I am assured ‘it degrades and becomes harmless’. However, if the plant is not actively growing, Roundup lurks for months until there is a growth spurt and then it works. Roundup does not degrade while in the plant.

The next fact about Roundup is that it enters stomates of all plants so even in so called Roundup Ready plants, the poison permeates every cell in the plant and there the Roundup stays. Now this is the question I have asked and asked and have never received an answer.

‘Considering the above, is it true that plants like GM Canola that were bred to be immune to Roundup, hold Roundup in their cells where it remains right through to the dinner table?’

Roundup has revolutionised agriculture and is a must-have tool for non-till or low-till sustainable broadacre farming. But considering that we already ingest so many toxins from our polluted environment, is engineering edible plants to be ‘Roundup Ready’ taking GM one step too far?

Bluebell Books Short Story 8

2011-08-27T06:13:00.001+10:00

Love in a wheat field.

My heart, my mind, my soul infuse
With sweetest love, my body use.
But ‘ere we lay
Here in the hay
Please help me find my effing shoes!

Prompt by Bluebell Books Short Story Slam.
(No time today to write a real story, maybe next time).

What next for Libya?

2011-08-26T06:20:00.001+10:00

Watching.

No Ghadaffi

People free?

Democracy?

.... We shall see.

First published in Poetry 24.

Picture from Reuters.

Adam's limited options.

2011-08-23T07:16:00.005+10:00

or 'Eve gives Adam a ribbing' in der Deutsche sprachen.

Ven Eef und der Adam vas yung,

Ven all of der trupples haf come,

He say....
"On leafe I am goink!”

But Eef say; I’m knowink

You'll come back ven your leaf iss up!”

Haf a look at der Gooseberry Garden for more hiths and myths.

Auntie Ella's Magpie

2011-08-23T06:23:00.000+10:00

Auntie Ella.
I can hardly remember not having a car,
but I do remember Auntie Ella.
Looking back, I now wonder
what some of my dates must have thought.

Before leaving on a date
she always made me stand still and listen.
Then she would say:

“Be careful young man, and remember;
‘People in cars cause accidents.
Accidents in cars cause people’.”

It worked.
No accidents.
But there were some lovely close shaves!

Memories prompted by Magpie Tales.

Scientific experiment anyone can do at home.

2011-08-16T06:36:00.004+10:00

Mr ten percent explores his human foibles.

It has been said we Humans use only ten percent of our brains. So what do we do we do with the rest? Being a Darwinist, I look for advantage in everything, so I had a good look at IXL and realised my lovely lady would never have attracted my ardour had she had a head the size of a Pomeranian.

So it is 90% padding. But in most of us, even that ten percent seems to work less well than almost every animal when it comes to interpreting natural evidence. I refer to the fact that some very powerful people mentioned in my last few posts lack the ability to critically analyse their own ideas before declaring them facts.

Tony Abbott asked recently why Carbon Dioxide, which is an odourless, colourless gas that mixes totally with the atmosphere and is therefore weightless could possibly be measured in tons! If you reacted by asking; “So?” maybe it is time to close this screen. To those still wondering, I pose this question:

Why would anyone exposed to the evidence all around us that Science is keeping planes in the air, holding up skyscrapers, replacing heart arteries, splicing genes from fish to wheat, you name it, but still assume their own random assumptions are the absolute truth based on no evidence except that they thought it up or maybe it is what some bloke said at the pub?

In the same basket, let’s place that deadly elation that occasionally floods a soldier’s brain that causes him/her to rush a machine gun emplacement armed with nothing but bare fists and temporary insanity. Why the same basket? Stay with me and keep that ten percent open.

What if both examples enhanced the survival of the tribe?
What if we evolved to mindlessly accept the belief system of our tribe so we would follow the direction of our leaders in times of crisis and so not hesitate to sacrifice ourselves to enhance the survival of many? Making sense?
Any general will tell you that the purpose of boot camp is to render a soldier mindless so he/she will obey any order without question. Imagine what would happen if the order “Charge! “ was met by an incredulous “You've got to be kidding!"

Scientific training changes that for most of us. I say most because there are scientists who fail to critically examine assumptions they hold on issues outside their area of expertise, which they should know is very naughty indeed. Unfortunately, such pronouncements give succour to the Bachmanns and Abbotts of the world who declare Climate Change is a conspiracy or Intelligent Design is science and quote as their source, ‘hundreds of scientists’.

So, why do apologists get away with basically misrepresenting the evidence? We can all think, we all have access to the information but, my friends, we lack one simple process. We can’t seem to ask the one simple question that would boost us to the next level of intellectual honesty. We can’t say ‘WHAT IF I AM WRONG!?”

So my challenge is to try it.
Put the ego aside, take any firmly held belief, ask yourself the question, look for contrary evidence and see where it takes you.
It never fails to surprise me.

Cute dog pic borrowed from the net.

Surprise Magpie.

2011-08-16T04:58:00.000+10:00

Oops!

Oh darling! My lover, so clever, so sweet!
You’ve painted the room! My joy is complete!
But wait! Silly man,
My lovely divan…
It’s ruined! You left off the paint splatter sheet!

Explanation of the picture provided by Tess of the Willowvilles.

The Huns are coming!

2011-08-15T13:28:00.000+10:00

“Climate Change is here!” does not compare to your classic “The Huns are coming!” as a generator of adrenalin. So although it presents a more dire threat than whatever wiped out the dinosaurs, It is all happening too slowly for that. But once here, and it is here, unlike the Huns, it will never go away.

Now consider this. Both Snowbrush and Helen in comments on my post on political vitriol, mentioned Michelle Bachmann. I looked her up and discovered a right wing Republican, who among other things has more faith in her intuition than science while at the same time admitting she is not a ‘deep thinker’. She believes Intelligent Design is science, we should scrap the minimum wage and universal healthcare (those two go so well together, don’t you think?), feels threatened by taxes, abortion, gays and Muslims. She wants to control what happens in the bedroom but not what happens in the workplace or contribute to national health. If we could see into her mind, we would probably see the elephant in the room that Obama represents but I will not speculate. The public record is radical enough.

Then, did you hear (British PM) David Cameron, in his best Churchillian, threatening; ‘We will track you down… we will punish you”? Of course rioting and looting are mindless, frightening and criminal. Perpetrators should be arrested and tried but Cameron has exacerbated the problem by further dividing the US and THEM of British society, making the task of addressing the reasons unnecessarily difficult.

Here, Tony Abbott is determined to destroy Climate Change initiatives, and like Michelle Bachmann, is against any initiative that will cost the very wealthy anything. Their rhetoric is creating a division between the political left and right not seen since the Great Depression. Then consider where that led… Radical communism on one side and Radical Capitalism on the other, with Nazism in between. Radicalism happens when we feel stressed.

I did say feel stressed, because I believe Climate Change and the Global Economy can be fixed. Hope energises people to make sacrifices and feel good about their contribution. But we are allowing political opportunists to scare us into radicalism again.

What happens next is classic tribalism. Both those problems are global, complex and require intelligent solutions. But that ain’t what’s happening folks. We are doing what we have always done. We are turning to ‘strong’ leaders who promise they will wipe out the Huns if we make them Chief.

But where are the Huns? Don’t worry, our Leaders will identify them for us. Hitler identified them as Jews. Milosevic identified them as Muslims. Marx identified them as Capitalists, Hoover identified them as Communists. Ayotollah Khomeini identified them as anything Western. But none will say “Climate Change” because they instinctively know it is not on our evolved list of adrenal triggers for many.

With Europe threatening to collapse, our energies and wealth being dissipated by ‘wars on terror’ and so many shrill voices with finger pointing, it seems we have evolved little since Chimps started raiding neighbouring colonies to kill and eat their babies.

Whatever happened to politicians who debated using facts, listened with respect, negotiated and voted from a shared wish to benefit all the people? I feel they are there but moderate voices rarely create headlines so we rarely hear them.

Shoot the Prime Minister??

2011-08-14T08:00:00.001+10:00

As if the rhetoric was not dangerous enough already, now we have a Conservative candidate saying 'Julia Gillard is evil' and should meet the same fate as John F Kennedy!

Of course his statement was disowned by the party but Tony Abbott must take responsibility for setting the stage. The Prime Minister has shown she is inexperienced in the job, making premature announcements and underestimating the ignorance of her constituents and so failing to fully sell her policies. But she is not evil. What is evil the wave of outrageous personal vilification Abbott and his Conservative Storm Troopers have generated against the Prime Minister.

It seems I was closer to the truth than I realised when I posted this piece of satire! (edited). Since then Abbott has said he will gain government at the next election then call a double dissolution as soon as his bills to dump the Carbon and Mining Taxes are blocked.

...........................

Scene: Digger Pitt, mining magnate talking to Tony Abbott after he failed to attract enough support to form government. ('Rupert' is of course Murdock whose newspapers have been outrageously biased towards the big end of town).

Tony is on the phone to Digger.

“What the hell can I do now, Digger?”
“What? You’re asking me? Just get that bitch out! We need a new election before July or we’re stuffed!”
“With respect, Digger, it’s a bad look for me to go back on a promise, I…”
“Ha, ha, ha! Don’t shit me Tony. When did you not… paid maternity leave over your dead body, climate change is bunkum? Those two little doozies would have cost me a mint. But this is serious mate. We can’t pay a mining tax AND buy BHP Billiton!”
“But if I go back on that I’ll upset the independents more…”
“So? Just get me a new election and I’ll take care of them. With an Atheist in the lodge and a poofter running the Greens mate, we've got God on our side. I'll hit the media and you’ll win at a gallop!”
“But you’ll still have Greens in the Senate!”
“So they block and you get a double dissolution. Just get me an election and we’ll do the rest.”
“OK, Digger, leave it to me. I reckon I can bring her down.”
“Good boy Tony! Can I tell Rupert you’re on side?”
“Of course, always.”
“Thanks mate, we’ll be watching.”
Click!

Meating at Funny Bunny Friday

2011-08-11T05:41:00.001+10:00

The Wooly Red Steer.
(a true story retold for Funny Bunny Friday at the Purple Treehouse.)

Dan Langan was the oldest man in town, nearing ninety, wiry and strong, he still rode his big white mare around the hilly property. We had a common fence that was an exercise in desperation. What was still standing was held together by baling twine and rust, but with a little repair by me, it seemed to keep my stock in and his out.

That was until the appearance of the wooly red steer. I arrived home to see him, not yet accepted by my four, grazing alone on my side of the fence.
I drove him out my front gate and pushed him into Dan’s place. Then I searched until I found what I thought had been his point of entry and closed the gap.
Next visit he was back.

Bugger. This time he had integrated with mine. They were now mates and would test the fence if they were separated.
It was time to see Dan.

Dan loved a chat and that’s what we had for maybe an hour. A pot of tea and several scones later as Mrs. Langan fussed over us and it was time for business.
‘Well, young feller,’ he said. ‘You didn’t come over here for a chat. What’s on your mind?’

I told him his red steer was back on my side of the fence and maybe we needed to put him in a more secure paddock.
His smile broadened as I spoke until he was laughing.
‘I thought the pest of a thing was yours!’
‘No, he’s not mine.’
‘OK,’ he laughed again. ‘Let’s eat him!’

Photo borrowed from here.

This Magpie apologises.

2011-08-10T05:35:00.001+10:00

I apologise for the apparent wallow in self pity of the last post. It was just a memory and in a way a celebration of escape from my father's genocidal, paternalistic, vengeful, cruel and unjust god.

Back then we were all forced to fear Him through OT readings and preacher rantings reinforced by liberal applications of The Rod.

But right now, with plenty to do and the love of a good woman, I have never been happier.

Caged Emotions 1947.

Barn dance, fox trot

quickstep, waltz.

Teenage kids

in tops and shorts.

Jitterbug and

rock and roll.

Laughing, squealing

guy and doll.

Long walk home with

hand in hand.

Waking, stirring

Earth’s command.

Home and lit by

light globe bright.

Lust denied this

time. Good night!

Teenagers: I would rather watch and sympathise than be one.
More post war wisdom and confessions can be found at Magpie Tales.

Magpie Memory 77.

2011-08-09T04:09:00.000+10:00

Voice of an Angel.

My sin was his sin.

Embarrassment

drove my father.

While God watched,

he thrashed Satan

from his children.

But God was not appeased.

Like all sadists,

He rarely is.

But it stopped the year

I won the eisteddfod;

1947.

I never sang again.

But looking back,

It was a fair trade.

Look for more cheerful pieces at Magpie Tales.

In the eye of the Beholder Magpie.

2011-08-02T08:06:00.001+10:00

Point of View.

“What a kind and thoughtful plan,
Thinking, thinking, clever man!”
He said, while watching cows a-grazing.
“He really is. He's quite amazing!”

My furrowed brow and eyebrows raised
Should have said; 'I'm clearly fazed'.
But then I said; 'I've no idea
What is your meaning, please be clear!'

Then confounding revelation,
Added more to my confusion.
“I’ll be damned!” He said. “I’ve never
Seen devices quite so clever!”

None the wiser, needing more
To understand and still unsure
To what this city man alluded,
Thinking, ‘obviously, deluded!’

But soon enlightened I became
As Cedric went on to exclaim;
“Poor cows and calves, in summer heat
Suffer so, with no retreat.”

Then his eyes led mine to gaze
Further on through shimm’ring haze
To where the farmer, we discerned
Was sitting. “That’s a rest well earned,”

He said. “His kindliness rewarded
Should be talked about, applauded.
He clearly did the best he can
By putting up that cattle fan!”

More kindness can be found at Magpie Tales.
Picture borrowed from NebraskaTravels.com

Wet dogs, kids, Nazis and roundabouts.

2011-07-28T05:51:00.003+10:00

We know what happens when a wet dog shakes itself and some always seems to get into your mouth! At the moment of impact have you wondered in what possible abominations your temporarily despised pet might have been rolling? Maybe you have, but then did you wonder at the forces that propel those contaminated droplets in your direction at speeds beyond your ability to avoid them?
Centripetal force, circular motion. That’s what it is. It is that force that makes a stone fly from a sling or a satellite stay up there.
Now, I direct your attention to a previous post that talked about the globe slowing a little (I postulated a change of 0.0137 seconds longer days by the year 2050) and then take your imagination back about four and a half billion years, when the whole glowing hot mess of oxides nitrogen and iron settled itself into orbit, third planet from its birth mother.

As mainly gases, imagine how much larger it would have been and how far from the axis its centre of spinning force must have been!
I am not about to try the math, but if we take ocean water again then imagine it all as vapour (steam to me and you), and if you like, include coal and oil, no longer buried, but in the atmosphere as CO2 , we realise that our planet would have been, by volume at least, predominately atmospheric gas, extending its weight hundreds, perhaps thousands of kilometres further out from where it is now, way below sea and ground level.

Don't go, because here is where the story really starts. It includes a confession of the method I used to teach ‘Conservation of Energy’ to otherwise disinterested eleven year olds.

We all went to the local park where there stood an old fashioned roundabout, all weathered wood and rusty tubing. That wonderful piece of scientific equipment is long gone, removed by Child Safety Nazis, possibly as a result of the use to which it was put by me. Nevertheless, let me confess what we did. It was really me, but I use the royal we to suggest shared responsibility.

We placed six of the smallest children at the centre, instructing them to hold on tightly no matter what. Then at the outer end of each of the six radiating bars, a larger child, with feet on the edge and body hanging out as far as possible, was instructed to listen for a signal from me. Other children spun the roundabout with its human appendages until they could impart no further energy.
Then, on the signal, the hangers-on pulled themselves towards the centre as quickly as they could.

What happened? Well, the whole system accelerated alarmingly and all were screaming with delight or terror until the signal was given for the moving bodies to slip back to the perimeter when it slowed again, allowing the guinea pigs off, to laugh hysterically, run for the washroom to vomit or demand a second go, depending on the strength of their stomachs or predilection to self harm.
But I guarantee their understanding of conservation of energy, levers and centripetal force were never forgotten.
So what has that got to do with the speed of rotation of our planet at its birth billions of years ago?

OK, let’s go find one of those old fashioned roundabouts and we can pretend we are water vapour and CO2 condensing towards the centre of the planet, and see what it does to its rotation.
Here it is expressed as a mathematical equation: v2 / r =a, where ‘a’ is centripetal acceleration, ‘v’ is velocity in meters per second, and ‘r’ is the radius of the circle in meters. Don't let that worry you. Suffice to say, any reduction in ‘r’ really gives ‘a’ some ‘wow’!

That suggests our planetary rotation speed has accelerated considerably over the last few billion years from when there might have been only a couple of hundred days or less in a year.
You understand? No? OK, climb onto the roundabout and hang on!

Celebrating the new Bikearoo!

2011-07-26T03:29:00.002+10:00

Cycles Sirius

Cycles Serious.

When it is all said and done
The Tour de France always was won
By great muscle tone
And testosterone.
And this year, Cadel was the one!

More stories and poems at Tess's recycling shop.

Anatomy of a Joke 001.

2011-07-23T08:01:00.001+10:00

·
First principle:
Carefully build a mental picture so the audience forms an image that is totally unrelated to the image you want them to end up with.

· Then, with the very last word, shatter that image by introducing an obvious absurdity.

Example.

Want a skyscraper?

Ask an engineer.

Need cancer removed?

Get a surgeon,

A man on the moon?

Talk to NASA.

Get real about climate change?

Listen to Tony Abbott!

Pfthahagigglesnortbwhahaha…stoppit, you’re killing me!

Pic courtesy Moir

Cockroaches and digital watches

2011-07-20T08:15:00.003+10:00

I don’t often utter the name of Einstein, mathematical genius and social rascal. The most recent time I did was when I ordered a beer in a bar in Munich. There I attempted to ask for a beer in an accent that left the barman wondering and my origins in no doubt.

“Einstein danke!” I said, which apparently means ‘one stone thank you’. But frantic waving of an empty stein in his face did the trick and a ‘bier’ was duly placed in front of me and a huge number of euros changing hands was my penalty.

However, idle minds will wander and so mine did in the early hours of this AM to pose a question that has serious implications for watchmakers and timetables, so dear friends, I share it with you.

I am presuming sea levels will rise because we are too dumb to take climate change more seriously than repayments on our shiny new digital plasma TV’s, so let’s presume it will happen for the sake of the exercise. Put aside for a moment what sea level rise will do to our coastal cities and land, and come with me on a short foray into Einstein’s playground, Academia. Here we can share a bit of irrelevant research.

Most researchers and activists seem hell bent on writing papers on the sulphur crested long toed purple tongued tit or what planting the equally threatened daggy barked acacia in someone else’s back yard will do for the speckled bummed laughing frog, but we are serious. We are about to solve one of the last BIG questions still unanswered. Viz, ‘How much slower will the earth rotate when sea levels rise by one metre (projected to occur between the years 2050 and 2100’)?

Disclaimer: If you can’t follow the math, don’t look to me for erudition. I have no idea what I am doing or even if the premise has merit.

However, here is the raw data:
Diameter of Earth (average) = 12742 km.
Diameter is increased by 1 m sea level rise, but as surface is 2/3 sea, average increased diameter is 1x2/3 m or 0.0067 km (rounded).

The math.
Ratio of amount of change to old diameter: 0.0067/12742 = 5.258201224297598e-7
So to express that in time change per day in seconds, we convert to circular motion by dividing by Pi, then multiplying by 24x60x60 giving us longer days by 0.0144552731838872 seconds.

Now, that might not seem like much, but if you added up a whole year's worth it would come to 5.279788530414806 seconds. It is about how long it takes to exclaim ‘Well! I’ll be damned!’ But if you are serious about being on time, you are probably already on E-Bay looking for a digital watch that automatically adjusts for climate change. Apart from cockroaches, watches are one of the pitifully few things that can.

Magpie's Nest oddities

2011-07-19T07:01:00.000+10:00

Thingummies and Hoosits.

I stared at this thing for an hour or three
wondering what it is, what it could be.
Then out of the blue,
the answer came through.
“It’s a Wotsit, that’s what it is, plain as can be!”

Find more probable explanations at Magpie Tales where Tess spends all week dreaming up ways to flummox we lummoxes.
Dictionary: Lummox (E) = Dumb ox (US).

Paying the Piper.

2011-07-16T09:28:00.000+10:00

Paul Keating has turned into the classic Grumpy Old Man but like most of us, he occasionally says something notable and he did so this week. Viz, “Abbott’s attitude is that if he isn’t given the job he will wreck the place!” Seems he is right, but read on to understand why he is really hell bent on 'wrecking the place'..

So despite the lowest unemployment and government debt in the world, highest terms of trade and because we still pay less for oil than we did three years ago, our national confidence is way down and support for the Government abysmal.

So what is destroying our self image when we should be feeling confident if not a little smug?

Any reformist government must ride out our inbuilt distrust of change as did the Howard Government when they introduced the GST, in retrospect a positive change. Our current government embarked on an overdue overhaul of policies on several fronts, including Climate Change and was supported by the voters. What they did not expect was the emergence of a new dumbed down style of opposition that started under Malcolm Turnbull and became total warfare, with no regard for destructive side effects under Tony Abbott.

The tactic is simple. In this age of the Celeb, the image of the leader is the image of the party, so they now ‘play the man’ by continually naming the Prime Minister as incompetent, wasteful, dishonest, and responsible for every negative that happens and if no crisis exists, invent one. Now, before we look back with nostalgia to when Malcolm led the Opposition, remember his carping became so mean and negative he was dubbed by some in the press as the ‘Bishop of Quibley’. His relentless pursuit or Rudd culminated in the attempt to discredit him by using an approval-seeking bureaucrat to spy for him. Then despite Mal’s coaching before the spy appeared before a Senate enquiry, he admitted he had invented it all 'because I thought it was expected', leaving Malcolm with egg on his face. But that was not what brought Malcolm down. His response to Climate Change and his entry into negotiations with Labor so upset his corporate supporters that they demanded he be replaced.

So, he was rolled and replaced by ‘climate change is bunkum’ Tony Abbott, who spends his time now stirring up anger in all ‘polluting’ industries, warning workers (voters) they will all lose their jobs under this 'toxic tax', when what is proposed is an overdue and very modest start towards a clean energy future.

Now, take a side trip to this post from September last year and treat yourself to a little déjà-vu. Keep in mind the vitriol and scare mongering currently coming from Abbott, Labor bashing coming from Newscorp media and this week, Abbott declaring that, after he wins government (now looking likely), he will bring on a double dissolution and a fresh election to gain control of the Senate. Skip the first bit if you like, picking up the exchange between Abbott and Digger Pitt. Here is the link.
http://staffordray.blogspot.com/2010/09/long-day-in-politics.html

Blame the Bug. (See Magpie comments below.)

2011-07-13T11:54:00.000+10:00

Warning: This picture of Charles has absolutely nothing to do with this post which just goes to prove I am losing it!

As a baby, I wanted more altitude
As a teen, my demand was for latitude.
But now in my prime
I spend all my time
Avoiding my creeping decrepitude!

Magpie's Beautiful People

2011-07-13T03:27:00.000+10:00

The people of Chilmark were fitter
before they had Facebook and Twitter.
At the beach every man
Would work on his tan
And the girls left their kids with the sitter.

More frolicking at Magpie Tales.

Crystal sets and in utero conditioning.

2011-07-07T07:06:00.000+10:00

I really can’t afford the time, but I feel the need to do my grumpy old man act on this one.

When I was a kid of maybe twelve, I built myself a crystal set and could lie in bed and listen to the radio through earphones. However, the only clear station was the one that broadcasted Parliament from Canberra so I was exposed to politics and debate earlier than most kids are if ever. I must say debate back then was debate, unlike now when most of it is mindless childish posturing.

However, like pre-born babies who hear certain tunes or voices while in utero I am forever drawn back to listen to the sounds of my early youth. But let me get to the point.

You wouldn’t think it right now, but Australia on the whole has one of the highest per capita incomes on the planet. Our problem however, is that national income is heavy on coal and iron exports and not a lot of that trickles down, but still our living standards are very much higher than Indonesians, our nearest and in some ways our dearest neighbours.
Last time I flew to Timor and Flores was about fifteen years ago, but I doubt much has changed. There I visited a dozen or so homes, one the home of a reasonably highly placed official in Kupang. The house was smaller than houses were here a hundred years ago, about 8 squares, with a dirt floor, maybe three light bulbs and a small TV set.
Here most houses have a refrigerator or two, a freezer, washing machine, dryer, air conditioner, hot water on tap, twenty or more lights, a wide screen TV or two, vacuum cleaner, microwave, toasters, jugs a computer or three plus many more lesser electrical utensils.
I would estimate a per capita electricity use per head of maybe a hundred time that of the average Indonesian.
I stopped to listen as this idiot insisted that Australia need not do anything about climate change because ‘Indonesians are doing less’.

As you all know, my politics favours internationalism over parochialism, cooperation over confrontation and above all, an awareness of the science of Climate Change and a realisation that unless we fix that and pronto, all else will become academic. Chances are that by the time my grandchildren reach adulthood fixing it will be well beyond us.

When we have killed off our ocean ecosystem by allowing acidification to rise way past the ability of corals and krill to survive, made agriculture more difficult and continued to populate way past the ability of the planet to support us, human misery will cause such conflict that we will all be dragged into the most profound adjustment for humans the world has ever seen with the end of the Human Era a prospect, second comings and rapturings notwithstanding.

It is difficult, it is complex, it does require sacrifice and we would all wish it to go away. But as anyone who has built a bridge, developed a vaccine, won an Olympic gold medal or flown to the moon will tell you, none of those things happened by wishing for them. They took a lot of planning, skill, money and hard work over a long time. Wishing, praying and slogans did not lay even the first brick and so it is with our climate change response. Every one of us must commit or we are stuffed. But what are we getting from, our leaders?

As I see it, politics has degenerated into a contest of egos who say whatever polls indicate will get them votes. Unlike in the real world, dumbing down issues and compressing them into three word slogans works. Support for action is waning on the back of a few publicity seekers in media and politics who are saying basically that climate change is nonsense, or God is taking care of it and in any case there is nothing to worry about if you get rid of this government and vote for me.
Wherever you live, does that sound familiar?

Indonesian pic courtesy http://www.travelpod.co.uk/photos/2/Indonesia/Kupang.html
Kid with crystal set is not me. He is far cuter than I ever was.

All magpies are not black and white.

2011-07-05T03:39:00.001+10:00

Today insane, Tomorrow genius.

It was all about colour
wasn’t it Vincent.
Too vivid for your time,
when greyscale minds judged you
and held their purses close!

Thanks Tess, I just love his work. More Van Gough poetry can be found at Magpie Tales.

PS. Blogger is still keeping me from commenting. Wordpress is calling!

Absence makes the heart forget eventually.

2011-07-04T06:02:00.000+10:00

Just in case you have been wondering what I have been up to that has kept blogs to a minimum (as if you would), I have been rewriting, rewriting, rewriting. My one completed novel has now been read by a few writer friends some of whom were kind enough to offer real criticism.
So, as I am about to embark on the hardest part of the journey, ie, finding an agent, the little computer has been burning up the renewables while chapters were moved around, characters (re)developed and a lot of cuts made (boo hoo). Thanks to all of you and special thanks to Selma who gave me detailed feedback
Meanwhile Tiziana’s bathroom (head) is a mere skeleton to be rebuilt over the next week or two bringing to an end the major works prior to her being slipped and her bottom ‘done’.
Somehow in there I must find time for an x-ray and ultrasound on a shoulder that is still very sore two months after damage incurred in the chain locker, another colonoscopy, IXL’s coming monster auction of a lifetime’s collection of chattels on July 31, back to the dentist for after sales service on a botched root canal job, plus I have started a new series for classroom reading ‘lessons’ called ‘Mouse in the House’ for a school I adopted.
If you teach 5 or 6 year olds, ask and ye shall receive a free advance copy with model lesson plan.
By the way, this material will dramatically boost reading age in any child, but is particularly effective with ‘right brain’ kids and spectacular with ‘ADHD fuelled clowns’ and, it is heaps of fun to do.

Observing teaching lately, I note the widespread use of computer programs for reading. If teachers think stuff on screens, even interactive ones is a big deal to modern kids, they should think again. Every child has been saturated with screens so they might find it refreshing to get their eyes, ears, feet and minds back into the real world where people still live some of the time!

Neil Armstrrong wears Playtex.

2011-06-30T06:02:00.000+10:00

Listening to the radio yesterday, as is my wont, I heard a woman talking about winning a trip into space in a competition run by Virgin’s Dick Brainstorm. During the conversation she told us she would be ‘wearing a nappy made by Playtex, just like Neil Armstrong did’ and this popped into the brane.

A toddler in space.

Once when a spaceman named Neil
was asked; ‘Neil how do you feel?”
He said; “I’m quite happy,
except my full nappy
does not have a lot of appeal!”

Magpie's nest of vipers

2011-06-28T06:45:00.001+10:00

What the artist’s wife said.

I can’t bear to look, ‘cause it makes
Me freak out and suffer the shakes.
They might be fine art
But to me, Darling Heart,
They look far too much like real snakes!

Less scary takes on the prompt at Magpie Tales.

What am I bid?

2011-06-21T06:28:00.002+10:00

Here we have lot number one-ninety-nine
Who she was, lost in the passage of time
Somebody’s mother?
A daughter, a lover?
Done! It’s yours Sir, but why do you cry?

More items from Tess's attic can be found at Magpie Tales.

End of an era.

2011-06-18T04:58:00.000+10:00

It is with great regret I say farewell to a good and faithful servant.
Sounds like the start of a eulogy and it is.
What you see here is a 1989 model Atari Mega II computer.

This computer was the power behind twenty years of publishing and composing. It was fast and reliable and still is. Does anyone have a 22 year old PC still working? I don‘t.
Long before MS Windows, this ‘windows’ machine had the capability to handle up to seven open screens for dragging and dropping, cutting and pasting and its choice of ports was staggering.
The MIDI interface is built in, as is its many more ports to attach piano keyboards, drives, printers, phone line and more, so it was the fastest and easiest machine to use, much faster and more powerful than the Mac of its day.
A Seagate hard drive added in 1993 gave it even more punch and super fast loading of programs.
But since Atari decided to pull out of cmputer manufacturing, this remarkable machine has been starved of programs and can no longer do what I want.
So, with IXL about to move aboard with her stuff, everything not absolutely necessary must go and I cannot justify keeping my darling Atari aboard.
So, if anyone needs a vintage Atari loaded with programs that works as well as ever, you have about two weeks before she hits the recycle bin.
Boo Hoo!

Magpie 69 or a mere shell of its former self.

2011-06-15T04:07:00.000+10:00

History in seashell.

Imagine the world as it was if you can,
when life on this planet so rampant began.
These sea gastropods
predated the gods
and squeezed in between, the emergence of Man.

Tess saw more seashells on the seashore at Magpie Tales.

Blogger Woes

2011-06-13T05:33:00.000+10:00

Me with my laptop when I lived in Ur.

Eventually, after weeks of frustration not being able to comment on friends blogs, Blogger wouldn't let me into my own blog. So, I reset my e-mail and password and presto! All good.
But it did give me a scare, knowing most of my blogs exist only at Blogger so guess who has spent hours backing up blogs!

Mooloolaba Trawlers.

2011-06-07T12:31:00.000+10:00

Sign of the times.
First the entree.
Like a cheap boat? This one came in a few months ago after it was surrendered to the bank. She will go at a fraction of her replacement value and a bargain for anyone wanting a really big luxury American built cruiser.
The main story.
While handing out voting information during our recent Federal election I was accosted by an angry forty-something woman.
‘I’d vote Green but you won’t let me fish!’, she snarled at me, in a not-to-be-questioned statement. Our Green Party does have scientifically recommended policies to create more marine parks where species can survive to keep recreational and professional fisheries sustainable.

The level of debate here can be judged by a bumper sticker on a fisherman’s car that says “Fix the environment-shoot a Greenie”.
To illustrate depletion of fisheries I describe observations made in two fishing ports, Eden in New South Wales and Mooloolaba Queensland.

Eden in the 1960’s was a bustling international fishing port. I saw huge trawlers and ‘mother ships’, refuelling from one of four million litre tanks above the wharves across the bay from a substantial fish cannery, the biggest employer in the town. You can see the tanks over the bay behind my youngest with kids in about 2008. Empty, and a reminder of happier times.
When I was there three years ago, the cannery was gone, its long wooden wharf festooned with danger signs. For sale signs stakes out landscaped vacant land where the giant fuel tanks once stood. The three remaining working trawlers, tiny by comparison, were serviced from a road tanker filled from one of the two town gas stations.

Here in Mooloolaba, four of the largest trawlers have been tied up for two months, the crew gone, looking increasingly forlorn. Yesterday I asked and was told the ‘company’s broke’. That represents about a quarter of the current working fleet. Further questions revealed that those four were what was left of eight the company worked only two years ago. That business failed because the fisheries are no longer sustainable at even the current reduced level of activity.

So what should be done? Around here there is no doubt. Open marine parks to commercial fishing and/or shoot a Greenie. Although everyone here knows the truth, it is convenient to blame someone for their predicament and it seems there are plenty of populist politicians who pop up to direct the anger at their political opponents. It is rare a politician in opposition is forced to deliver so their rhetoric produces two unfortunate outcomes. They give people false hope, delaying their departure from dying industries and sometimes their rhetoric leads to frustration fuelled violence.

Meanwhile I am gertting on with curing my lovely old Tiziana of the measles. As you can see she has a serious case of the 'patches'.

Magpie 68 (heard at an old pirate's home).

2011-06-07T06:45:00.000+10:00

Bluebeard’s Lament or…
‘Left without a leg to stand on’.

During a melee at sea
So wounded, unfor-tu-nate-ly,
He can’t sign the leases
For rented prostheses.
‘cause he has no hands and can’t see!

Shh! He still has his Buccaneers

Get another eyeful at Magpie Tales.

Why are you still here!!!

2011-05-26T07:59:00.000+10:00

Raptures past and present...

I have been around for at least three predictions of 'The Rapture' and may live long enough to see a couple more. It seems every generation of Christians wants the big R to happen in their lifetime. But you have to hand it to them. They have unquestioning gullibility and shameless tenacity; a dangerous combination.

They said; “if you wake up to find
the faithful have left you behind,
you’ll know that the rapture
failed to recapture
your devious Atheist mind!”

So what did I find when I woke
this morning and looked for you folk?
You-all are still here,
not in Heaven, I fear
‘Cause the whole stupid thing is a joke!

It’s clear that the Rapture’s a con,
with so many dates come and gone.
It seems that the grand plan
is worth even less than
the paper it’s all written on!

First published in Poetry 24, a news based poetry blog that is well worth a look... well, go on!

Shakespear's Magpie 67.

2011-05-24T05:22:00.005+10:00

The Lute Player. (a playlet).

Scene: A banquet.

Cast of Characters (from left)

Mr Beardtrim Ubergutz.

Cyril Toad'stool (waiter)

Monocle Mick (pawnbroker)

Bluebell Bandy (Mick’s transgender friend)

Lute Player (whose name nobody wants to know because he is not a celeb).

Directors note:

All characters are ventriloquists so there is no need for movement.

The Lute Player is still having trouble getting his pinkie to hold down the A in a Bm7.

The plastic fowl should not be eaten.

Act One and Only.

Lute Player: (singing) ‘O Beautiful maiden/ I’ve loved you forever/ Come I beseech thee… ‘ (looks desperate) wait, wait… almost there…

Bluebell: (whisper) Mickey! Hands off! Cyril is watching!

Mick: Who me?

Cyril: Would you like fries with that?

Beardtrim: (aside to audience) All we need now to is a starving university student selling single roses and a bloody photographer!

Curtain.

See Magpie Tales for more inspiring works of art and chicken recipes.

Thoreau's washing machine.

2011-05-20T07:06:00.002+10:00

Anne Grenier’s comment (Magpie 66), that Thoreau calculated it took his neighbours longer to earn their train fare than it took him to walk to town, reminded me of an incident while visiting Flores in Indonesia just over a decade ago.

We were scouting for a source of irrigation water for a farming venture when we came across a group of half a dozen women washing their clothes. Steel pipes projected through a low weir across a clear running stream, creating water spouts under which the women soaped their saris, pounding and squeezing them against rocks that shone with smoothness from use that stretched back many generations.

Above them, but clearly in sight, children played in the waist deep water, diving, splashing and laughing as their mothers gossiped and laughed their morning away.

As we approached, they turned to face our small group of Australians and our interpreter. They all stopped what they were doing and waited. In Bahasa, Moses asked the obvious. “Doing your washing?”

One smiling young mother (pictured) laughed and asked me in English if I had a washing machine. I said I did. They all laughed again as she told me I was lucky. I shook my head as their laugh died.

“As I walked down I saw you all here, talking and laughing and envied you!”
That got their attention and their silence forced an explanation.

“I do the washing alone. It is not something that is pleasant, except that I can throw the clothes in and get off to work sooner. At work I am so stressed I can hardly wait to get home where, again alone, I hang out the washing while I try to keep the kids amused. I would like to collapse with exhaustion and watch television, but I still have a lot to do before my day is over."

“To get to work costs a lot to run a car and I need to leave the children in an expensive crèche. Much of what is left of my earnings goes towards buying, running and maintaining such things as washing machines!” I grinned at their disbelief and added; “And if that isn’t bad enough, if I laughed and joked at work like you do, I would be fired in a day! So, young lady, think carefully before you give this up for a washing machine. I assure you, it will not bring happiness!”

The looks of disbelief caused me to smile my understanding, but as we left and laughter followed us, I still hoped my words would be remembered when temptation came, as it surely would.

Pic courtesy Google.

Magpie 66 in the woods

2011-05-17T06:02:00.000+10:00

Henry Thoreau.

“A century and a half after its publication, Walden has become such a totem of the back-to-nature, preservationist, anti-business, civil-disobedience mindset, and Thoreau so vivid a protester, so perfect a crank and hermit saint, that the book risks being as revered and unread as the Bible.” John Updike.

Thoreau's Cabin.

His need for stillness understood,

He built his cabin in the wood.

Came to know his furry friends,
Wrote a book to make amends.

Stayed two years, two months, two days,
Learnt to live in simple ways
Cut some wood and grew some greens
Ate some woodchuck in between

Not for him a gramophone,
The internet or mobile phone
No trains or planes or cars to mar
His perfect peace; his Shangri-la.

More stories and poems can be found on Tess's Bookshelf.

Electric town cars

2011-05-16T07:36:00.000+10:00

I have been banging on about electric cars for yonks and bemoaning the fact I could not buy one here that was in my budget range, ie, zero to not much. The Zenn is priced at about AuD $10,000.

So, here is the ZENN courtesy of Helen Dehner.
They do not mention running costs, but other electric cars cover the equivalent of 250 MPG or 100+K per litre, ie about 10% of the cost or runnng an equivalent gas car.
Apparantly top speed is limited by legislation(40 KPH), not the car's potential and many do get their controllers modified to the higher speeds (60KPH) permitted in some states of the US.
It will go much faster so why are limits set so low? Conspiracy theories would do well here, so constuct your own!

In Oz, with all energy providers paying for home generated power, in some states paying gross feed-in tariffs, running costs are reduced to zero (after establishmet costs, that we are told are recovered in three to five years), one would be crazy not to consider one as the second car!
For the First Car, I am still hanging out for H/fuel cell cars to hit the streets here. They promise highway speeds, more range than a petrol or diesel car, no battery bank and zero emissions.
Of course the zero emnissions part depends on the source of power to run Electroysers used to generate the H! But even if coal fired or nuclear is the source for now, at least we do get cleaner city air.

Willy Wagtail/Scissors Grinder.

2011-05-15T04:15:00.004+10:00

I am not one to believe the spirit of a long lost relative can enter the body of an animal. But this little fellow comes to visit so often, seemingly to deliver a message, I began to wonder.

He/she flies in through an open hatch, sits on my indoor clothes line and scolds me for one long lungful then flits off happily, usually repeating the same message once from the rail then leaves, returning for a repeat performance in a few days or weeks.

When I was a kid, Dad identified the Willy Wagtail and the Scissors Grinder as two species but they are one. We often heard the scissors and Mum would mimic the ‘pretty little creature’ call but I can’t remember hearing the ‘scolding’ calls until now. If you would like to hear Willy scolding and testing his freshly ground scissors, go here and click on the MP3 link.

Of course I have had the camera handy for months but I was never quick enough until a few days ago. Presuming movement would frighten him off, I attempted several times to get a shot from the galley where I sit to write but never quite made it. But when I stood and came closer he seemed to enjoy my proximity and stayed much longer than usual. IXL says he comes for a handout.

Mystery Mendicant Mozzie Muncher.

Rhipidura leucophrys
What delightful bird is this?
Scolding me with tail a-swish
Waiting for a tasty dish?
Sorry Willy; ship’s supplies
Don’t run to grubs and gnats and flies!

(The black wriggly thing hanging down is not a worm or snake, but is my makeshift radio aerial).

Magpie hot pot recipe No. 65.

2011-05-10T18:38:00.000+10:00

St Francis.

St Francis was not a good shot;
A hunter he surely was not.
But game birds a-plenty
He ate. Evidently,
They fluttered right into the pot!

He liked rabbit stoo!

Prompted by serious picture from Magpie Tales.

Bin Laden Afterthought

2011-05-09T06:26:00.000+10:00

I read the Horse Whisperer, and occasionally stumble upon a Dog Whisperer on TV and we now have Teenage Children Whisperers and all, but what we really need right now is a “Radical Fundamentalist Religion Whisperer”.

Pic borrowed from London Daily Mail.

Bacchanian Verses

2011-05-09T05:35:00.004+10:00

In a literary magazine last week I saw an appeal for six poems to be published on the back label of a series of wine releases. The winery is Coriole Wines and their contact is helen@coriole.com

Of course the following is unlikely to be what they want, but you know me, I could not resist.
By the way, for those old enough to remember, the doll on the left is Lucy from when TV was black and white and comedy shows were funny!

Coriole Wine Verses.

Larss Drinks.
I oft shared a bottle with Larss;
Who sipped with decorum and class.
But once in the bistro
Was totally pissed, so
He finished up flat on his arse!

Wine Lovers.
Two pickers of fruit to make wine,
Their young hearts began to entwine.
Went frequently missing
For cuddling and kissing,
And more, hidden under a vine!

Truth hurts.
‘In vino veritas’ states
You drink and confess your lewd traits.
But heed this dire warning,
That maybe next morning
You’ll find you have lost all your mates!

Nightcap.
There once was a fellow named Fred
Who took half a dozen to bed.
His wife’s main objection
Was lack of erection
So now poor Fred sleeps in the shed!

Pic from I Love Lucy 1950's.

Sequel

2011-05-06T04:41:00.000+10:00

As predicted, we attracted suspicion from members of the most secretive of secretive sects, but were eventually approached by an older gentleman who invited to stand close enough to hear the short eulogy that was delivered to members and their disinterested children by Bill’s son-in-law David. Then shovels were produced and Uncle Bill was returned to the soil that had nurtured him.

Of the immediate family, only dear zany Pam and her clan were still members of the sect. Understandably, she was somewhat overwhelmed by our presence, but despite having known me well and having lived near my sister Dianne in the past, she twice asked us who we were.

Sister Dianne and I made ourselves known to the old lady, who seemed to remember me and was introduced to Sis, born after the schism and with no knowledge of the sect or its members. I can’t say the welcome was a warm one, but on the day she was burying her husband of 75 years, she could have been in a daze of grief. Then again, I detected an impatience with our presence. After all, with family ‘outsiders’ outnumbering those still in captivity at least two to one we must have represented a challenge to their superior morality. Sadly, nobody came from Bill’s brother’s family.

But as predicted, we outsiders got together afterwards in a restaurant, met the generation born since we last met and thoroughly enjoyed each others’ company for a couple of hours. It was worth the trip.

However, I am kicking myself I didn’t take my camera. But as nobody else did either, perhaps photos are taboo now. Who knows what the MOG has declared sinful since his last edict! What I would like to have shown you was the shoes.

With no make-up, jewellery, hair dye and all plainly dressed and sporting a curiously truncated head scarf, the women expressed their vanity through the most expensive and ornate shoes I have ever seen, with bright colours, patent leather shining, bejewelled and with heels! Funny animals, humans.

Shoe borrowed from here.

My Uncle Bill Chesterfield died yesterday.

2011-05-04T07:21:00.003+10:00

He was 97 and I do not remember ever meeting him. He is ‘survived’ by my aunt Malvina (Ray) 99, who I have not seen for sixty years, although I have driven by their house (six hours from here) at least twenty times in the intervening years, and despite invitations to call in, I have gone right by. But I will be going to the funeral tomorrow.

When I was about fourteen, Dad took us to see a Hollywood Musical. Perhaps it was Oklahoma. Dad loved music. He knew it was forbidden to enter a cinema, but maybe because in earlier times his mother had taken him to the ‘flicks’ and to circuses, the church’s ban was not strong enough to stop him. However, we were observed and reported.

Soon after, Dad’s favourite sister Clarissa died from complications following brain surgery.
The family cast about for a reason God had taken her from them and decided her death must have been in retribution for my father’s sins. You might think; “What rubbish!”, but they had a great precedent and you don’t need to be in a wacky far out sect to believe in God’s insistence on human sacrifice. All Christians do.

We were imbued from birth with the myth that “Jesus died for our sins”, so any condemnation of the Order of (Exclusive) Plymouth Brethren and the ever tightening restrictions placed on its members by its (American) leader, their Man Of God (MOG), is to ignore the obvious.

So, we were ‘withdrawn from’. That means being completely cut off from family and friends. All an EB’s friends were expected to come from within the faith, so overnight we were supposed to have been isolated. Luckily, Mum’s family ignored the ban.

On the next Sunday, several car loads of white faced men in black suits arrived at our home demanding that Mum take the Lambs (we children) and leave with them right away, so we would be saved God’s retribution for my father’s sins. Mum’s crying brought Dad running. She wailed her distress and Dad (bless him) picked up a lump of wood and told the rapidly retreating Brethren to vamoose before he cracked their skulls!

Dad loved Mum more than he loved his church and for that was made to suffer the full force of God’s anger. For Dad it was a death sentence. He suffered terribly from that guilt and all the other sins he imagined he must have committed for God to condemn him so cruelly. He died prematurely at 62. Mum suffered too. She lived on without the love of her life for another lonely 35 years. As the Jesuits say, “Give me a child until he is seven…”

So, if I had visited my aunt at her home I would have been offered a cup of tea and a biscuit despite my status as a non-believer. But I knew I would have to say; “Thanks Aunt, but where are your tea and biscuits?” She would have then gleefully delivered God’s word.

You see, one of the MOG’s directives is that no member is to share food or drink with a non member. At the Rapture, when they ‘ascend unto Heaven’, God has warned that he can’t be bothered separating the ‘Wheat from the Tares’. They are terrified that God will throw the whole contaminated mess of the Blessed and Sinners into his ‘fire and brimstone’ landfill.

I would have sat there, not touching one drop or one crumb of her afternoon tea, while she politely asked after my family and what I had been doing. She would have listened while I confessed two divorces and recounted my life as a musician, playing the Devil’s Music (well enough to have hit the top of the professional tree for my ‘fifteen minutes of fame’) or I would have let fly with my condemnation of the self righteous and cruel bastardry they had meted out to my dad and our family.

Frankly I would not have been able to contain my indignation. I would have said something hurtful to that old woman who was more victim than oppressor. So I drove by her street, content to remember the funny and irreverent young woman she had been before she became totally deluded.

Tomorrow we are not permitted to enter the church for the substantive part of the funeral service, but the Blessed have deigned to allow us lesser family members to attend the ‘graveside service’. In the front row will be the devout, the adults glancing at us with pity. Some will condescend to mumble a few platitudes before escaping the dangers of contamination. Their little ones will regard us with curiosity but the lambs will be carefully shepherded to maintain a healthy distance from sources of infection. So why am I going?

There are nineteen first cousins from my dad’s family, all married with offspring. At the last count, over half have been ‘withdrawn from’ so I will be there to support the pariahs, the escapees, the eccentric real people I love dearly and am proud to call family. Then afterwards, I will join them for a sinful drink to celebrate Us, catch up with family news and have a laugh in the non-judgmental ambience of a pub of our choice.

Smoulderings

2011-05-03T07:18:00.004+10:00

Baby confused,

mother resentful,

conifers dead.

Train carries

Coal between

Now and Tomorrow.

Visit Magpie Tales for stories and poems prompted by Tess and her SLR.

Short term memory loss.

2011-04-28T07:36:00.006+10:00

Or why do women get pregnant a second time?
Or why do yachtsmen do it over and over again?

By virtue of Arch’medes law.
O’er oceans our great vessels float
A life of adventure, to whit.
To see new lands strange and remote.

But what do you do at that shore,
Where sun, salt and weather promote
Such rust, where anchor chains sit
At the pointier end of the boat!?

You squeeze through its miniscule door
To scrape, sand and curse and emote.
(In) tiny adit with eyes full of grit,
You exclaim: ‘You’re a silly old goat!’

But later, you feel her sails draw
And thoughts turn to harbours remote.
While safe in the cockpit you sit,
And pour a good wine while you gloat.

Definitions.
Ocean cruising: 'Performing boat maintenance in exotic locations'.
Cruising sailor: 'Perennial optimist, congenital idiot'.

Run your car on water!

2011-04-27T05:52:00.008+10:00

We all learn something new every day.

Yesterday I learned that I am getting too old to cramp myself into the chain locker where rust lurks for a whole day without suffering the consequences. But but but…

While checking on stuff I found in your comments on recent 'electric car' posts, I came across two exciting facts that made me forget the twinges.

The first is that Israel’s battery exchange stations charge their batteries on site. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Why? Because I was brought up with drilling rigs, the Exxon Valdez, oil refineries and road tankers, not to mention toxic in-ground fuel tanks, all potential disasters and all have been. Damn! In a place like Israel where clouds almost never darken the sky, solar arrays anywhere will do the job and the recharging electrons travel along wires that already exist!

Solar panels don’t catch fire and destroy oceans, don’t sink, spew muck into the skies or crash like petrol tankers. They just sit there, pumping out power. And the added bonus, like in the Super Station concept, battery exchange repositories can be charged when the sun is shining. OK, that’s all fixed so what was the second one?

Did you know that in LA, there are gas (petrol) stations offering Hydrogen? California, that uses 20% of fuel burned in the USA, has embarked on a project to build a ‘Hydrogen Highway’ from BC to LA. That is great news for anyone who buys a Hydrogen/fuel-cell electric car. The advantages of fuel cell cars are range, far greater than a regular car. Emissions are pure H2O and they need little more battery power than the average flashlight. You can even buy a H fuel RR or a Beamer! Too expensive yet for me, but that will change.

Batteries are heavy, chew up rare metals, are expensive, representing about half the cost of the cheapest electric car available, use a lot of energy to manufacture, do not produce full power for more than a few years and can be difficult to dispose of. However, I still had a problem with how to get Hydrogen to distribution points. There is a case for pipelines to power houses and factories. And pipelines do offer the advantage of acting as a windkessel. (don't be lazy, look it up). Pipelines might still get the nod, but Hydrogen powered houses are a long way off if ever. Much easier to go all electric if we can solve the base load power problem.

But I was wrong. LA Hydrogen outlets generate their Hydrogen on site using Hydrolyzers.
Again, no oil wells, no coal mines, no tankers, refineries, or road tankers. Hydrogen generation can happen ‘while the sun is shining’. But they do have Hydrogen storage tanks on site, so we will still be warned against smoking while filling. Remember the Hindenburg!

PS. Just around the technological corner is a super thin wafer home roof array/Hydrolyzer that fills your car at home. Here in OZ, research is advanced that will allow us to paint our roofs with solar collector paint. No twinges today, just excitement and hope.

By the way, if you have a few spare minutes, Google Hydrolyzers and read the scams.
Did you know, by buying a book for $39 (cheaper on e-bay) you can get DIY plans to make your own Hydrolyzer from stuff you can scavenge from the dump? Then you can run your car on water!

Well, most don’t claim that. What they do claim is a significant saving (25% and up) saving in fuel consumption by converting water to a mix of H and O as you drive which supplements your gasoline or diesel.

Of course to believe that, one must discard one’s science that states ‘energy cannot be created or destroyed’. Such a shame. It would have been really nifty to run my car on water!

Car pics courtesy http://www.hydrogencarsnow.com

Magical Magpie 63.

2011-04-26T08:29:00.004+10:00

Magical tube for a mind to cope
With multiple images, colour and hope
For laughter and joy,
Child with a toy,
A cunningly fashioned kaleidoscope!

Colour and action from Tess at Magpie Tales.

Clichés and Climate Change.

2011-04-24T08:09:00.011+10:00

Don’t you just love talk about paradigm shifts?
I put that in the same basket as ‘moving forward’, ‘game changer’ and ‘breaking the nexus’.
OK, so here is a game changing paradigm shift moving forward that breaks the nexus tying cars to fossil fuels.

We all lurve our cars and have painted ourselves into a corner by our dependence. So how can we get out of that one? First, what is stopping us from dumping the petrol/diesel engine and taking to public transport? There are a thousand answers, but here is mine.

Public transport based on rail, light rail and buses does not work for enough of us. If you need to carry stuff, rail is of limited value, even if you live within a short walk of a train station. Light rail ditto. But even more difficult is the in-betweens, where distance increases the further out you live.

Infill is done with buses. But only the desperate catch buses for reasons of comfort (weather), time, ignorance of timetables, distance from gate to bus stop, perceptions of danger etc, and buses are impossible if one carries more than a lunch box and an umbrella.

So we get into the car and put up with traffic as we commute, shop or play and blame the government. Problem is; there is no money for double and then triple-decker roads in economies that are already in deficit big time. Catch 22!

But wait! Try this idea.
Cheap electric cars free ‘Super Train Stations’ and renewable base load power.
Do not panic. Read on and all will be explained.

Electric cars need a huge investment in infrastructure before they can replace gas (petrol/diesel) cars. Right now, Israel is the only state that has decided to install a nation-wide all-electric car ‘refuelling’ network. Good for them. But how does that apply in the US, Canada, South America, Africa, Russia, China, India and Australia for example, where we move stuff and people vast distances with huge gaps between population centres? It doesn’t.
Rail works fairly well over long distances and high speed rail promises non-polluting inter-city express services for people and freight. But it is commuter traffic that is causing the headaches.

If we can overcome the infrastructure problems, electric cars offer huge advantages. They are non-polluting, quiet and very cheap to run. They would also be cheap to make with only one moving part in a motor that needs as little attention as your refrigerator.

If only we were not trying to force them to fill the gas car slot! So unless someone is prepared to fund nation-wide infrastructure to support it, the gap is too wide. Then there are batteries. They are heavy and expensive.

While ever manufacturers insist we need to match the performance of a standard car/truck/ship/plane, we are stuck with high cost batteries. Actually, to fully match gas cars, such batteries do not yet, and may never exist. So to break the nexus requires that paradigm shift and this two-part game changer.

1. We start with a basic electric commuter car with choice of battery pack starting as low as 50Km (30 miles) should cost between US $5,000 and $10,000
2. A ‘Super Station’ rail network that uses existing infrastructure and costs government zilch to build.

What is, and why a Super Station?
Step one:
On any (surface) rail network in a city, pick the most outlying dormitory suburb and declare the space above, below and beside the train station vacant and available free to any developer who will build a Super Station then invite expressions of interest in building a complex that consists of:

Parking to accommodate commuter electric cars within a 7Km (4 mile) radius.
Conditions:
1. Parking is ‘free’ to owners of all-electric vehicles (and bicycles).
2. Electric cars plug in to the grid. Commuter cars are recognised by the complex’s computer that also registers expected exit time so batteries are charged to a satisfactory level before departure. But it is the hours in between that provide a unique opportunity.

When the system is mature, in between the time of arrival and departure, millions of cars across the city (and nation) remain plugged into the grid with millions of (privately owned) batteries providing storage for renewable electricity generators, solving their base load power problem. Power can be drawn out and pumped in as required. At home, cars are reconnected, so the only time their batteries are not available to the grid is while they are at neither home nor parking station. Neat? It gets better.

Moving forward;
1. Such complexes are offered to developers at planned locations , nominally about 12 km (7miles) apart, cutting the number of train stations needed to about a quarter or a fifth of those now existing, so with less stops, all trains become “express”.
2. Roll out. Development is started furthest out to most quickly reduce car-miles. The rate of roll out is controlled to provide continuity for building contractor, time for uptake of electric commuter cars, infrastructure adjustments etc.
3. Each Super Station is a discrete entity. It is immediately usable by electric vehicles from its feeder area (and further afield) and is not dependant on any wider support network.

So what’s in it for investors?
There is detail on station design, retail mix, uptake patterns that would fill pages, but suffice to say they make their money from retail shop rent and fees charged for access to their electricity storage capacity.

Two dreams are realised.
• Generators solve their base load power problem and
• Developers get a captive clientele. And what clientele is more captive than commuters coming off trains within their building, with their cars an elevator away and the next stop home!?

The cost of running an electric car to and from the station for a week is about 50c, and if the kids are dropped off at school and the car is used for sundry trips to sport, music lessons or the local adult shop, you might be up for $1 a week. And if it is used to drop people off at the station so the car is available for other family members, make that $2 a week!

Let’s have some fun with this!
We all say we need to fix climate change but we feel powerless to do anything effective. Maybe this won’t work, but it might prompt some better ideas. So, if you want the full article, e-mail me and I will send the whole 6 pages. Then you can tell me why you think it won’t work and together we can hone it up and start pestering politicians. We need that paradigm shift moving forward and maybe we can create the game changer that breaks the nexus!

Cut and paste.

2011-04-22T06:19:00.003+10:00

The most exciting news for this month for the Global Greens is the electoral success of the German Green Party.

At the end of March elections were held in the German State of Baden-Württemberg. This is one of the richest areas of Germany and has traditionally returned a Christian Democrat government. But in this election the Greens managed to double their share of the vote to 24.1% and finish in second place. They are now in a position to form a coalition with the Social Democrats and to be the leading partner in the Coalition. This should result in Greens Leader Winfried Kretschmann becoming the Green Party's first regional "minister president" (State Premier).

We don't know of any other cases in the world where Greens have lead a State government. Reports suggest that two issues led to the Green's meteoric rise: dissatisfaction over a major project to redevelop Stuttgart's main railway station, and fear of the State's reliance on nuclear power following the Fukushima nuclear plant disaster.

source: Australian Greens Newsletter April 2011.

230 million tonne coal loader for Barrier Reef

2011-04-20T05:49:00.006+10:00

Open Cut Coal.

Caesarean section
of Ancient Earth.
Torn from its womb,
the monster within.

Tiny fingers
flick switches.
Machines reshape us
as flabby minds watch.

Equal and opposite…
Isaac’s third law.
Climate change backlash
The extinction Tsunami.

Save the children!
Save the children!
Not yet, not yet.
We can’t afford it right now.

"Coal is Nature's Hazardous Waste Dump". From the 1990 play '20-20 Vision'.
Pics courtesy safecom.org and National Geographic.

Willow Pattern Platter Patter 62.

2011-04-19T03:53:00.007+10:00

Say that a few times quickly, then re-light the candle and read on.

Sodium Free.

‘Twas the diet with which I find fault,
That started the kitchen revolt.
One bite, and he muttered;
‘This toast isn’t buttered
And who eats their eggs without salt!?’

For more stories of Willow Pattern plates and tasteless breakfasts, see Magpie Tales. For decent egg recipes, see Tess's blog.

RR Greens.

2011-04-13T05:41:00.007+10:00

Last weekend I attended the inaugural meeting of the Rural and Regional Greens at Beachmere, SE Queensland. The reason such a body was formed was to educate the public about the dangers of coal seam gas but specifically to warn of the consequences of accessing coal seams by drilling through Australia’s priceless underground water resource, the Great Artesian Basin.

Water in the Basin starts its journey in rainy Papua New Guinea and travels thousands of kilometres south through permeable rock to underlie 22% of the continent, or 1,700.000 Sq Km. It is estimated to hold 65,000 cubic kilometres of fresh water and is crucial to the viability of dryland farming in Central Australia. That natural wonder is under immediate and dire threat. click here for ‘Potential depletion due to coal seam gas’. Here is revealed that leaks have happened and 48,000 such gas wells are planned for the agriculturally rich and irreplacable Darling Downs alone. This is a big deal.

Coal seam gas extraction contaminates ground water and causes its confining strata to be breached. Are we risking permanent destruction in exchange for thirty years of gas extraction? We are, apparently!

Coal seam gas- Water contamination.

We know it is not ‘if’ but ‘when’,
So we asked the gas miners again.
They answered; “Of course,
It de-stroys the source.
But we will be long gone by then!”

Sigh!