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Monthly Archives: January 2011

Madame Conasse de la Merde
Irma La Douce was more honourable …

I always enjoy the satire of Raja Chemayel. He has a blog at but he posted the following article to I reproduce it here in its entirety:

The French Foreign Minister visiting Gaza declared :
The road to Peace passes by the security of the State of Israel……

if this is supposed to be the case , I do not want this Peace at all !!

The same French Foreign Minister
one day before visiting Gaza , did also declare :
withholding Gilad Shalit as a prisoner is a war crime…….(unquote)

if this is supposed to be the case ,
then Israel does not need anymore a Foreign Minister
because France’s Minister is doing a good-job , for both .

By the way ,
Gilad Shalit has dual nationality (French+Israeli)
which makes him as an occupier and a mercenary,
in a Palestinian prison !!

Sherlock Hommos

PS :
Please , do not , excuse my French

Taliban submarine: not one has ever been detected.

Taliban submarine (with desert-sand camouflage) and lifeboat.

This afternoon I went out onto my front verandah to sit and enjoy the unseasonal cool afternoon breeze. That’s an unusual thing to do at this time of the year in Perth, Western Australia. Usually we’re closeted indoors sheltering from the searing heat. Before I ventured outside I checked the television news; not a word of any Taliban submarine activity off our coast.

Seated outside, and watching a cloud-filled sky that would have excited the English artist John Constable, I listened for the wail of air-raid sirens. There was no wail, only the muted sound of birds in search of food that is scarce in a Perth summer. How strange, then, that this very day we bestowed Australia’s highest military honour for an event that happened on another continent and could never affect my ability to sit on my verandah and enjoy the breeze.

I thought of my father, and how I helped him build the verandah on which I was sitting. Helped him all those years ago, when I was still too young to enter high-school. Still too young to earn my own living, but depended on my father getting up each morning and going off to a job he didn’t much enjoy so the family could keep a roof over its head and my mother could put something on the dinner table each night. I thought of my father, who did all that for years, without being an adrenalin-junkie.

My father would never have made another man’s wife a widow just because my father’s mates were in a place they ought not to be, doing things that in normal circumstances would have had them facing criminal charges. Perhaps that is why we insist upon anonymity for some of our troops, a form of enhanced Nuremberg Defence. Sir John Monash, our most respected soldier, would have torn his way out of his grave in outrage.

Of course we are overseas ‘containing terrorism’. Of course. But have you noticed the number of ‘attempted’ terrorist acts that have been ‘thwarted’ lately, both in Australia and overseas? ‘Attempts’ that produce extensive and expensive show trials, where the accused are given every chance for voicing their opinions, and are then often-as-not safely incarcerated in prison where they no doubt act as hostages for their companions. Have you noticed? Could it be that our foes long ago realised that a living ‘failure’ was of far more value than a dead ‘success’ whose only future is as fertiliser?

In an Australian Rules Football Grand Final we award medals to the winning side only – although there have been attempts to give the losers a medal as well. But the vanquished are not nameless, or invisible, despite probably wishing they were. They are very much a part of a Grand Final ceremony; they played, they lost, but they weren’t denied some form of recognition. So it always disappoints me that we don’t bestow some award – even posthumously – on the opponents who made it possible for the victor to be decorated. It takes two to win a medal.

I move indoors to put all this into an email, and I notice the ‘au’ at the end of my email address. I wonder if all the effort, culminating in a medal being awarded, has done no more than make that ‘au’ a distinct liability.

A week for sneering

Enough to make you sneer.

It’s apparently okay in Perth, Western Australia, to throw rocks if you show promise as a footbrawler, even if you don’t live in a glass house. It doesn’t matter what the rocks might hit the football brotherhood will make sure the media treats you kindly. Zhit!

Yes, it’s certainly been a week for sneering in this most-isolated-capitol-in-the-world. We began with announcing how we planned to pin a medal on yet another adrenalin-junkie. But we couldn’t name him. Better change your email provider to one of the anonymous services (gmail is good) ‘cos I have this uneasy feeling that we just made anything with ‘au’ in its designation an even bigger liability than the Australian cricket team.

And we finished the week with the Labor Party in Western Australia declaring that if any foreigner’s arse was worth licking then us proles could be randomly stopped and searched without any reason, during the upcoming Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting in Perth. A direct reversal of Labor policy of as recently as a week ago. Zhit!

And I finished the week by discovering what a timid mob they’ve got moderating the Bigpondnews forum. I tried alerting them to the legal hazards of moderating within Australia but the thread closed apparently just before I pressed send.

Ah well, at least my adopted ‘sister’ looked good enough to eat!

The Victoria Cross
The Victoria Cross

It always disappointments me that we can’t honour the “other bloke” whenever we decide to pin a medal on one of “ours”. It takes two (sides, blokes) to win a medal. No hermit ever won a Victoria Cross. “Corporal Ben” (we can’t use his real name) could not have been nominated for his award without the other side playing their part – even if they did lose their life in playing it.

But where is the “other side” commemmorated? On what citation will their names appear? And I presume they or their survivors would have no objection to their real names being used, rather than some Sesame Street caricature. Why couldn’t we declare them – the “other side” – as Victoria Cross Associates? Even in an Australian Rules Football Grand Final the losing side, while they may not get a medal (there have been moves to change that) they are certainly not nameless and invisible, despite being pretty miserable. It’s part of the Australian tradition of “fair go” to give recognition, albeit different in form, to all involved, to both sides.

When it comes to sheer courage and bravery it’s hard to overlook the bloke who gets a job, a job he may not particularly enjoy, and holds it for forty or more years, getting reluctantly out of bed each morning and going off to work just so he and his family can keep a roof over their heads and put something on the dinner table. That is total courage. But he’ll never be awarded a medal. He’s not part of the set where being an adrenalin-junkie is socially legitimate.

Reference: Kathryn Bigelow’s film on the Iraq War; ” … Adrenalin is a Way of Life in The Hurt Locker … ”