The Native Iowan

Must be global warming, as much as the weather here changes…. over 100f/ 37c last week. Now its time to wrap up in a blanket.

In our modern world, are not the dictators of our time aiming to taking advantage of a divided “West”? A weak west? And the West is weak.

The fawning over the Chinese Communist Olympics is, in my mind, distasteful at best and hypocrisy more than not. Not offending China appears to be a full time job any more.

So what? It’s ok they are a dictatorship and suppressive? We need them. Must keep them hapi… much is just another example of “letting them get away with it”. And I use “them” as in all of them that have been given way too much slack…. China and Hong Kong, North China sea, Taiwan. Russia and the Crimean, now the Ukraine… Throw Korea in the mix… I note China and Russia planning meetings between Putin n Xi. The Communist world has not been losing ground.

Of course, nothing “will happen” during the Olympics.

I dont think A winter offensive is what either side on the Ukrainian front want but, is an invasion imminent? Does not make sense in many ways, but, IF Putin were to think he’d get away with it, again, and the other dictators agree… he’d accept the opportunity. No? In the snow, on frozen ground he could blitzkrieg.

I like the idea that a lot of this is simply to throw the West off balance.

But also to see how far they can go.

But is not the West off balance anyway/ already?

Most Western leaders are fighting for their political positions. I dont think any single western leader is in a strong position on their home fronts. the USA is divided and indecisive. A never ending game of “the next election cycle” leaves little room for consistent and comprehensive policy building. The UK would “spill” Johnston but there is no one to take his place. No one to broker a coalition govt. France, Germany and Italy are suffering from bad policies and internal confusion. Most of Europe has lost its historic constitution/ make up, noting Sharia Laws is alive and well in Europe. The traditional constitution has been diluted. World wide Western traditional make-up of societal norms have been rapidly changing. Irrevocably changing.

Hell! Australia cant build their own military machines. China owns more than a few strategic ports. Aus was dumb for a long time but has slowly opened their eyes to China.

May be too late though… They gave up making anything. Sold their industry off shore. Went green and is going broke. Too many generous social programmes. Talking now of opening the flood gates of immigration to swell the tax base.

Are the old systems stable? I’m not so sure. I’m glad I’m an old fart.

Weather here is very nice. Almost perfect. We could do with less rain.

Smiles

It’s summer time here. QLD is known for its weather, and January is usually hot. HOT!. I am writing this with a long sleeved jumper on, and a shawl on my legs. The wind is blowing, its been raining, it feels like winter. (A QLD winter)

Gotta luv Global Warming…

I live with the house open as much as possible. I like the feel of fresh air, openness, and the noise of the outside, inside. I often wake too early to the sound of birds making too damn much noise. My dogs are very vocal and if I didnt like the idea of knowing they are doing their job, they barking could be annoying. I know it annoys some folks that live here.

I find the dogs’ noise comforting. I can often tell what they are making noise about. Sometimes they just sing. Use their voices to proclaim their happiness.

This past week has seen a couple important milestones here in the land Down Under…

Qld has scrapped all their border restrictions. Considering that QLD has been closed to interstate and international travel, it is a big deal.

Over 2inches/ 50mm of rain last night. Don’t complain about rain, but being able to mow my lawn and slash the paddocks would be useful.

So today is an indoors-day. Wont get much done outside, in the mud, so I’ll stay here and see what I can get done. Be lazy…

I’m getting s little bit tired of all the W.O.K.E. bullshit. Ive been called racist a lot in my life. It usually makes me smile. I believe most folks do not honestly know what racism is. I contend that racism is a double edges blade, it cuts both ways. My experience has shown that this who have declared me to be “racist” are usually the racists.

And the idea of privilege is perhaps a bigger crock-o-shit… The idea that I, born in the 50s to depression-era, immigrant blooded parents, am by gratis of birth privileged is way, way wrong. In fact it is stupid.

The idea that being a victim is better than being hard working member of society, again, STUPID.

More later

I have just realised that there is a sickness, more serious than covid, effecting millions upon millions… worse than dandruff, more horrible than herpes….

Trump-Seperation-Anxiety-Syndrom

It effects over half the US population, and a huge portion of the global population.

I hear it a lot, see it a lot, but just received a warning from a good, old friend in the form of this…

‘Terrifying lies’: See ex-Trump aide’s warning about his rally – CNN Video

I thought my response worthy of reposting…

Dude,
Dok,
I understand Trump-Seperation-Anxiety-Syndrom is real. After 5+ years of great TV/ Entertainment/ ratings for the cable networks, people around the world, mostly in the US, miss Trump so bad its become a depression, a psychosis. With T there was something new and “important” every day if not every hour. Now, its so bland and boring we get sick, mentally ill.
See, here in Aus we have Djokavic being deported, which gives all something to argue over. Its small enough (and the weather is good enough) for folks here to be less stressed. In Aus we spend less time inside. Less Cabin-Fever sicknesses.
You guys in the US, now, have sleepy uncle Joe that’s only saving grace is the incoherent shit he says makes us all laugh. You got “heels-up” Harris that seriously makes no sense at all, but is cute, and giggles like a drunk college gal. You got the general-press/ the media that contradicts itself daily (twice daily?) and makes such lame, lame excuses and fibs to blatantly and consistently (in a self-contradictory manner) that news readers these days are well known stand up comedians. This follows long standing and well trusted “news celebrities” falling disgraced from their pedestals of influence. 
No one used to get “their newz” from Johnny Carson or other syndicated stand-ups. Walter Cronkite was not a comedian. Now the “stand-ups” make good livings being on cable news. 
So, my old friend, I advise a definitive weaning regimen from all things Trump. Noting well that he remains the most entertaining entity on the political land scape. 
Big smiles

Its kinda sad… I’m only partially joking…

More later

Gotta luv being a farmer. A farmer in Queensland.

The land of extremes. Australia is.

We’ve had a long running “good weather” system of late. Of course the past year or more of great weather has come on the back of a drought of a millennium, on the back of huge floods and a cyclone called Yasi, on the bank of a big drought…

Welcome to Queensland, Mate.

Farming has its monument. Some good, some bad.

I ended my day, on Tuesday, out in the paddocks, watching a cow preparing to give birth. She is a good cow, has been around, never had problems. The sun is setting. The cow does not appear to be in distress. I go home.

First thing in the morn, its not a pretty picture… dead calf, hanging out, hanging from the mother. She’s on the ground, by the stream, up against a bank. Floods have been regular lately so the river-bed is very clean. The cow in not in peril, we should be ok… kinda.

First step it to pull the dead calf and dispose of it. Easy enough.

Second is to try to make the mother stand up. A cow dies if it lies down. She is stressed, so wont stand, I try to move her. She loses her footings, does a 360 roll, tries to stand, ends up lying in the stream bed.

Not great, not terrible. I dont want to push n prod n hassle her more. She’s not in distress, yet. It’s a warm day, being in the water is not terrible, I’ll come back.

So she was still down when I came back later. Used the tractor and forks and the buggy, with Angelo’s help. We got her up. Not all that easy to achieve. But the day ended with her on her feet, grazing. All good, kinda.

She was still up the next morning so we must have done something right. Still watching but I’d say we are past the danger point.

Makes me feel successful.

And the beat goes on, more later

The weather continues to be wet…

Floods all around us.

Sure makes things green

More later

Plenty of rain here. A big weather system off the coast. Has kinda shut shut us down NYs eve.

Life is good.

Happy New Year to all…

More Later

10am on the 28th of 12, 2021. It’s kinda chilly here, in the valley. Overcast, rainy, breezy and not warmer than 20c/70f. I slept late, due to the chilled air, and once awake I ensconced myself in my recliner, wrapped in a blanket. My coffee is warm, a good Ip Man movie on.

Might sit here all day.

So, as the year wanes, as I sit wrapped in my blanket, all the windows and doors open, the chilled air pervading…

I ponder the past, peer into the future…

It’s been a rather strange past couple years. Recall, it was a short two years ago, in late 2019, that news of the Wuhan lab virus first came to us. It started slow enough but within a few short months all and everything changed.

Where are we now?

One important “thing” that has changed is the status of China on the world scene. I had been researching and writing on the activities China was carrying out, namely the “Belt and Road Initiative”. I was watching as China “bought-up” much of the Pacific Islands’ infrastructure. I watched as many African Nations too fell prey to the idea of basically “selling” main infrastructure like marine ports, airports, major roadways. Funny thing was that Australia too had sold much to China.

Dan Andrews, Victoria’s Premier, was a great proponent of the B&Rinitiative. The Port of Darwin, Perth, all involved in the “scheme”…

• Relations between Australia and China have deteriorated over the past year
• Despite the diplomatic spats, China remains one of Australia largest investors
• Beijing-backed firms own ports, water, energy companies, mines, and more
• Tighter regulations were introduced earlier this year to protect Australian assets
• https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-9011631/The-shocking-level-Chinese-ownership-Australia-cattle-stations-ports-water.html#socialLinkshttps://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-9011631/The-shocking-level-Chinese-ownership-Australia-cattle-stations-ports-water.html#socialLinks

I believe that the important fact of any Chinese ownership is the reality that all is in fact “State-ownership”. A company in Hong Kong is indeed a company in the modern sense but, the Communist angle means it is in fact owned by the State.

Not everyone sees it this way…

There are some out there that (still) hold some warmnfuzzy ideals about communism. Warm n fuzzy and erroneous ideals…

I think of my ol buddy, Kristoff… Long story but Kristoff was the son of a Russian big-wig. He was a privileged member of the Russian Communist system. And a punk rocker. He was “sent away”, to the West, when he became a thorn in the system’s side. He never had anything good to say about Communism.

Another “big thing”, a huge change, is that our world of easy and inexpensive travel has ended. I do miss the travel.

And the beat goez on.

It has not warmed up here. Might go get a warm hat.

More later

Big smiles

Luvely cool damp morning here. Woke to find a Green Bay Packers game on. I’ll spend as long as I can wrapped up here, watching, writing…

Thinking of Cmas-times past. How far can I go back?

I believe that most of my memories are sensory, and when real young most of my recollections come in the form of sounds and smells. Most definitely the Cmas time smells were overpowering. My Mother was a fantastic cook. Her thing was “cooking” and Cmas was important to her.

I recall being on the farm outside of Knoxville. IA. I was kinda big then, maybe 4 or 5. I have strong memories of the Staff-Party at the local VA Hospital, where my father worked. Before this? I cant pin a particular Cmas down. Nothing solidifies in my mind to give me a single major memory of Cmas before this time.

After the farm there was a single Cmas at Middle Street in Knoxville, then a couple while on Jackson Street. Then its all in Independence.

I commented yesterday that my granddaughter, G.G., now 6, may be living her last magical Cmas. Her last Cmas as a believer. Her last Cmas in that magical world of fantasy and farce.

For me, as the middle of 9kids, I think the magic of Cmas ended early. I distinctly recall my mother explaining to me that Cmas was for the “little ones”, and as a bigger kid I couldn’t expect too much. And that was Ok. I got it at a young age. Socks and underwear were ok.

My youngest sibling is 7years after me. My next, closest sibling is 2years younger. by the time I was 4-5 I had 2 younger sisters and mom was pregnant, preparing to deliver in February. As I talk it through, I look into the fog of the past and see that Cmas on the farm a lot clearer. It was a stressful one for the folks. Two babies, a big family, I recall receiving a plastic, army type, mess kit as a present and being very pleased.

Now, being pedantic, one would think that with only 65 Cmas-times to recall I’d do a better job. Of course I was too young to form cognitive memories the first one, and the next couple I was still building language and understanding. So, the vivid recollections I have from the time we lived on “the farm”, do represent my earliest, complete memories of Cmas.

Good news is that my Mother is enjoying her 95th Cmas.

Just thinking through memorable Cmas-times…

I recall one Cmas, maybe 1977/78. Hosted by my sister Holly, her husband, Ron, in their house on the SW side of Independence. It was a big affair. Ron’s parents and grandparents were there. My Grandmother and parents. A lot of family from both sides, the Dudleys and the Hemmer’s. A big bustling family filled affair.

Somewhere early on, after the presents had been ripped open, someone had picked up a bow with a sticker-label and stuck it on Grandpa Dudley’s bald head. Grandpa Dudley was a good guy and spent most of the day with this bow and name-tag stuck to his bald dome. He sat in a comfy chair and smiled a lot and, like old dudes do, kept his hearing aids turned down.

Somewhere in the proceedings, as things were quieting down, one of the “Dudley-boys” walked up to gramps, in a loud voice said “Who does this present belong to?”, and plucked the tag and ribbon off his head. In a loud, voice, he reads out the name… “To Nana, from Santa”.

Nana was my grandmother. Grandma Dudley did not like this at all. We all fell over ourselves laughing and carrying-on. Grandma Dudley moved closer to “her man”, and gave Nana the evil eye for the rest of the day.

Of course, one can become jaded by the commercialism and avarice involved with the modern holiday of Cmas. Thats why the magic of the little-ones is soo important this time of year.

Little ones, and dogs.

In the Solomons I always tried to throw a big Cmas-Doo… roast pig, fish, all the side dishes. My parents joined us in 1998 for one such party.

An eclectic selection of characters flew in from around the globe. The Makin’s, Pete Wilson, Jenny&Steve, UncleTeddy, my Brother, Roo, and his bride-to-be, plus the normal pickings of the Gizo/ Western/ Solomons extended family.

My mom had prepared 100 Cmas stockings for ‘all the little kids”. 50 for boys, 50 for girls. My ol buddy, Tom Shoen, was Santa. 100 little kids lined up and got to sit on Santa’s lap, and receive a goody-stuffed stocking.

It was a fun, fun day. (week)

And the beat goez on…

Smiles all around…

Cmas day, about 1pm, this side of the planet.

It’s a weathery day. Overcast and coolish with high humidity. Rained 75mm/3inches over night. More rain on the way.

Cooked all day yesterday. Big meal last night. Family up and noisy this morn. Destruction of wrapped presents. Lots of smiles and laughter. Another big meal.

I took a nap after breakfast then decided to come back to the farm, feed the dogs here.

Funny how the suburban house is very much a house in the suburbs, and quite warm. Aircon runs in weather like this. The house when closed up is almost sound proof from the outside. Its a matter of living in a controlled environment. Less noise, less dust, more coolness. Here on the farm the house is open. The outside is inside. I like the open to air living here. Damn birds can be very noisy.

In the Suburban-house I note how well behaved and domesticated the two dogs, Big Red, and Quell, are. They are house-hounds. Its nice to have big house-hounds. They are still young, but very well conditioned to being good house-hounds. They have very nice manners. Paul is great with them. The little girls give them heaps of hugs and kisses. They will mature into fine animals… both the girls and the dogs.

The three dogs here on the farm are as wild as they are domesticated. Definitely not house-hounds. Not yet anyway.

Of course, Cmas with kiddies is best. G.G. is a big kid now, probably her last magical Cmas. Nova is a charming devil. She entertained me quite a bit last eve.

The teens are both cool dudes. They very much liked their underwear and socks from Santa.

And everyone very much liked my classic cinnamon rolls…

And the beat goez on…

Smiles all around…

Plus a little bit…

Been a few days since I’ve blogged. Bizzy times.

The end of the year looms, the silly season is upon us. Covid rulz, mandates and the reduction in civil liberties is the norm.

Ive been playing farmer today… ran my herd through the yard and gave them an anti-fly spray. The summer here is “fly-season”, so some measures of control required. I take a minimalist approach. But then my herd is small, my property is large, and I can change paddocks often. I am bragging when I say I have had no ticks on my herd for many months… must be doing something right.

I then, with the help of Angelo, did a big clean up of the house-yard. Did a good clean up around the yard-fence. Grass is high and thick. It’s a big area and requires a lot of maintenance.

Its a warm day with a cool breeze. The sun is bright and the sky is blue.

And the beat goez on…

Smiles

A cool, overcast Sunday here. Rains predicted. Things are soggy.

It rained 15mm/ 1/2inch over night.

I woke sore and unhappy… must have slept wrong and my dudd’d rib is very noticeable. Breakfast was a Panadol tab and coffee.

It’s a perfect Sunday for Blood-Sports… Looks like the next several hours offer a succession of UFC contests. Just what the Doktor ordered.

I may sit here and snooze and watch the blood sports all day.

Also, this is Bathurst 1000 weekend. For non Aussies, The Bathurst 1000 is the equivalent of the Indy 500. Bathurst is an iconic race track. I have driven many of the Iconic tracks in this land, but never managed to get to Bathurst. It’s always a very good show.

So plenty to occupy an aching old fart on an overcast Sunday.

I smile.

Have been thinking about “Satire Singularity”… the point where satire, fact, newz, humour, and fiction are no longer distinguishable. I really enjoy the “BEE” for their ability to create “Fake News You Can Trust”… https://babylonbee.com/news/categories/politics?gclid=CjwKCAiAwKyNBhBfEiwA_mrUMufaY2xuUe4ieMsl4QlNciufvYmJhaV45mezS-V9F8AFMHZIN-RyyRoCyjkQAvD_BwE

I find this all telling in a world where so much general bullshit is purveyed about as “newz”.

Two big, muscled, light heavyweights are beating the hell outta each other. Gotta love blood sports…

I was caught-out by this…

It was put up on the newz, and it took me a bit of time to a) realise it was not satire, and b) that is really should have been… no B.S., the main stream newz was touting Biden’s ability to bring the fuel prices down so quickly, so sharply… but look again… though the line is long and the drop looks precipitous, the reality is this shows a 2cent per gallon drop, over one single week, 7 days. 2cpl on 3.40 per gallon price is something like one half of a percentage point. Wooopdy-fucking-dooo… a real newz maker, eh?

Can you say “propaganda”?

Just as a matter of comparison… a year ago a gallon of fuel in the US sold for around $2.00 perG.

Satirical Singularity at its finest.

Two light weight ladies are throwing kicks and punches. Round 1 and its pretty even. All on the feet, lots of strikes being thrown. A good round.

I have been involved in martial arts, in blood sports, all my life. I coached and managed the very successful Solomon Islands Olympic Wresting team through the 90s. Most of my bodily ailments and long term injuries come from “the gym”, from training. It’s only been in the last few years, after shoulder surgery, and a general geriatric pain filled existence, that I have given up routine training. Instead I have taken up farming. Farming keeps me active and healthy.

Did my annual checkup with the G.P. recently. Did all the tests. It’s so much easier in this modern world. You go give blood and they can tell pretty much everything needed to diagnose any ‘conditions”. Gone are the days of stripping down, putting on one of those drafty, tie in the back robes. Gone is the finger up the butt…

My lab report came back good. Positive. No issues to deal with. Come back in 12 months., thank you. In the land of oz that cost me $75 bucks. Very reasonable in my mind.

Socialised medicine does have many benefits.

Got a couple welterweight guys banging in the octagon… an old, experienced war horse v a young up and comer. First round is good. Looks like the young guy is taking a lot of punishment. Taking a whole bunch of leg kicks .

I did a very short stint training Muay Thai. First day in training we all paired off and took turns kicking each other in the shin. It fucking hurt. I took it, finished the training session, and never went back for a 2nd lesson.

I originally trained Tae Kwon Do. Grew up around wrestling. If you’re from Iowa, you absorb wrestling without ever going into a mat-room.

These Muay Thai type of kicks and punches were not something I ever learned. Of course, in the modern world of Cage-Fighting, Muay Thai is very important. Also known as “the art of the eight limbs”, or basically, Anything Goes kinda boxing… hands, knees, feet, elbows… thats 8 weapons.

UFC basically brings it all together. All the martial arts… boxing, kicking, grappling, submissions, all of it…

It’s called mixed martial arts for a reason.

A couple light weights are kicking the living shit outta each other. Ended in a 1st round TKO. Good bout.

And the beat goez on.

Smiles all around.

More later…

Queensland is shining. Glowing. Showing off… after great rains, and perfect temps, everything is growing, vibrant, verdant.

A Saturday where I am. We’ve gone maybe 48 hours without any measurable rain fall. Some localities have been inundated by water. Some have been holding their breath, waiting to see… see if they get flooded out, evacuated, or NO.

Ive spent this fine-time in the weather to try to catch up with my mowing. Still behind but have managed to get a good amount done, yesterday and today.

The ground is wet, soggy, saturated. In some areas “”liquefaction” makes the lush green grass a dangerous trap. Like a quicksand pit. Once in it, you’re a goner.

I rolled my John Deere yesterday. Kinda scary. A 30hp, 3 blade ride-on mower sliding backwards and sideways down a steep bank. The first two times were kinda fun. The grass is so slick, the ground so liquid that once sideways, the mower simply lost all arguments with gravity. Like being on ice. No positive traction. Thus Gravity wins.

Remember, Gravity never sleeps…

I did a 360 degree sliding, upright spin down one short run. It was scary, gave me goose bumps, and made me smile like a fool once I realised all was well.

“Lets do That again”…

When my left rear dive-side tyre (tire) gave way on the slope, I knew it was not good. The bank of the slop simply gave way. Slipped out from under. A mini land-slide.

And over I went…

So I end up on my belly. Machine on top of me. A quick sit-check… Nothing damaged, that I feel. It’s was not a crash n burn. Not that dramatic. Only a gravity winning slide down the bank, and a roll over sorta gig. I felt it all happen…

I was tossed to my left, backwards, and down in an instant. I’m on top of three big blades spinning at 3000 RPM. Know I’m going to roll. Can only stay aware… I hear the engine cut out. There is a safety switch under the seat. If the weight is off the seat for even a second, the engine dies. This is very good. I know that I’ll roll over with the machine, but the rotating blades will not be a hazard. I know there and numerous hazards happening in these split seconds, but the blades ain’t one I gotta worry about.

Then its over. You know when shit is very bad. Your body tells you. You don’t need to look to know when really bad shit happens. this ain’t one of the very bad situations…

I have my hat and a dust mask on… get rid of these. Don’t need them now. Next I fish in my pocket for my phone. Its a ways down. I have deep pockets in my work pants. I am pinned, sorta, under the machine. But this is a story in the happening… I’m going to write about this, so…

Once in hand, I promptly snap a selfy…

Then I assess getting disentangled from the machine….

Somewhere in the process I dudd’d a rib. It’s not broken, just a bit bruised, and very sore. All that equals dudd’d.

It was not much effort to roll the machine upright. It pretty much started right up. Had to wipe some engine oil and coolant off.

Went on to successfully finish a fair bit of mowing after the accident. Incident?

As my son commented, “It’s all about content”. It gives me something new to talk about. All olfarts need something new to talk about.

Us olfarts got heaps of ol-shit to talk about. It’s new stuff that is valuable.

And I smile

More later

Well, thereya’ go… November shot in the arse. Where’d it all go? The Month? The Year? The past Decade? or two?

Time sure flies when you are having fun.

70mm of rain over night. The streams are streaming, the ground is soggy, the dogs smell like very wet k9s. Don’t let the puppies jump on you. They are very muddy. The beautiful, fluffy, white maremma’s are matted and grey. Nothing I can do about any of it until it dries up a bit.

Its been raining now for a week or so. Consistent, daily, persistent. I have not recorded daily rain fall amounts but its over 300mm/ 1foot of precipitation in a week. The next week looks to be similar.

Do not think I am complaining. The pastures are lush. The cattle are plump and content. There have been no “Storms” yet so the trees and power lines and fences and roads and infrastructure have not been compromised. Not like some places not far from here…

Its one of the things that I really, really dig about the Land of Aus… it’s extremes. A decade long drought is followed by huge rain and flooding. Flooding is followed by beautiful conditions that last half a decade. Its only A or B here. No real copacetic in-between bullshit for the Land of Aus.

The Land Down Under takes no prisoners. You gotta be tough to be an Aussie. Pussies need not apply.

Speaking of which – Gracie and I have been granted Aus Citizenship. Makes me smile.

I shall not complain about the weather.

Folks hoot on about “Global Warming” and “Climate Change”. I simply call it “Weather”.

I believe that anyone that claims they can see change, spot cycles, take note of warming or cooling- I state that anyone who thinks they can see a difference from year to year to year is patently full of soggy cowshit. I believe the modern trends to “Go Green” is nothing more than an Elitist ploy to redistribute wealth and disenfranchise those that have attained a moderate to high middle class status.

Thats what I think.

I hear the peanut gallery hollering “Follow the Science”… and I do. The last guy I had this discussion with (A friend of over 30 years, a high level medical doctor, a smart guy) said exactly this to me. We were chatting. Having a beer. Catching up. Being friends. We hit on Climate Change and I stated my simple view and he said, “Yes, but you’re not following the science”. I asked him “what science”, he replied, “All of it”…

This is when I get a bit specific. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine, sorta gig…

I told by old buddy, my old peer, that I’d show him what I was reading. And indeed, I had on my phone a webpage I’d been studying. It was discussing the trends of ice-melt over the past thousand years or so. Measuring past melts and expansions. Bringing into the review the rise of global sea levels, and ensuing land mass degradation.

My buddy faltered.

This brought on one of my pet topics, the Sinking of the Pacific Islands. My bud and I had met in the early 80s in the Solomons. We both feel that we are somewhat authorities on the pacific Islands. So we opened another beer and got stuck into it.

Being a bright guy, my bud had a look, got my site addresses and eventually did, indeed, start to follow the science.

Previous to this his science consisted of left-leaning newz headlines and sensationalistic reporting predicting doom and gloom.

I admit, my bud is not your average arm chair pundit. He understands the facts are “out there” if one chooses to pursue.

Most folks don’t. Or don’t want to?

The rains are persistent here.

I have a number of chores to do outside but I shall choose to be a bit lazy. Like I have been for the past few days. No much needed fence repairs, no weed spraying or building maintenance. I’ll spend the morning doing some running and shopping I need. I’ll cook another big pot of dog food. I’ll reheat my several day old pot of red beans.

My family laughs at both my big pots of dog food, and my big pots of red beans.

Most of my clan believe my pots of dog food are more appetising than my red beans.

As an olfart, I find I do best on a simple diet. I do at times join the clan for pizza or burgers and usually regret my transgression. I cook-up a pot of red beans and add in heaps of veggies and garlic and onion and a bit of chilli and tomato paste. And eat it for days on end. Changing it daily. Adding rice or pasta. Turn into an oven bake with cheese or thin it out into a rich, healthy soup.

Had beans and rice last night.

My dogs get a kilo or so of meat and bones (beef or chicken) with pumpkin and carrots and what ever left overs survive. I cook about 8kilos/ 16pounds at a time. 4 dogs = 2kgs or more a day. I belie=ve the dogs need bones but I like to give them cooked bones. Unless its a leg or a big knuckle bone, I cook them up so they can chew and digest them. Raw bones can be dangerous.

I like cooking.

I like dogs.

I like rain.

I like being an Aussie.

And the beat goez on… As the Authorities lock us down harder. They invented Omicron (should be Xi) to maintain their grasp on our throats. I believe it is all becoming quite the farce.

Smiles

More later

As Honiara burns, as our beloved Solomon Islands plummets, once again, into anarchy and violent, I am compelled…

As a Solomon Islander I am ashamed of what is going on.

In a sad, joking, pathetic way I was told, when asked what is going on, thats it’s Christmas shopping time in Chinatown.

It’s a sign of our sad sensibilities when we joke about Honiara being razed.

For folks not “in the know”, this is not the first time Honiara has been set alight. Not the first time Civil unrest has boiled over, exploded, caused such destruction. Sadly, such is not terribly uncommon in what is affectionately called “The Hapi Isles”.

It is a sad, sad thing when we get used to the unrest and destruction.

Is there a future for the Solos?

Importantly, after pretty much two years of no tourism, we again take steps backwards.

A recent travel advisory… https://www.smartraveller.gov.au/destinations/pacific/solomon-islands

Overview

Safety

• Since 24 November a number of buildings and public facilities have been damaged during civil unrest in Honiara. A curfew is in place between 7pm and 6am daily until further notice. Respect all curfews and follow advice from the authorities.
• Crimes that may affect you include petty crime, break-ins, robbery and sexual assault. Keep your accommodation locked. Lock your vehicle doors and windows, even while moving.
• Political unrest can happen. It can happen during elections, sittings of Parliament, and times of political uncertainty. Demonstrations can turn violent. Avoid protests and political gatherings.
• Be aware of local wildlife. Street dogs in Honiara can be vicious. Sharks and crocodiles are common. Get local advice before entering the water.
• Natural disasters, such as tropical cyclones, earthquakes and tsunamis, occur. Listen to Solomon Islands Broadcasting Corporation on radio station AM1035 for official updates.

Sore Lo Solomoni

A pleasant, cool morning here in my little valley. The grass is growing so fast you can hear it. The cattle are plump and happy. the dogs are muddy.

We’ve had upwards to 200mm/ 8inches of rain in this past week. The ground is soggy. The green is so vivid its almost unreal. Verdant would be the word.

I’m watching as the draconian tightening of controls increases, again. A new “variant” has arrived, and like the last variant, the Elite that control us decide what is for our own good, lock us down tighter, harder.

As of December 17, here in Queensland, those who are Not Vaxx’d become a second class citizen. They shall be restricted as per…

Restrictions for unvaccinated people

From 17 December 2021, unvaccinated people will be unable to:

• visit vulnerable settings, including hospitals, residential aged care, disability accommodation services, and prisons. This does not apply to residents and patients of these facilities, and there will be some exceptions for medical treatment, end-of-life visits, childbirth and emergency situations
• attend hospitality venues such as hotels, pubs, clubs, taverns, bars, restaurants or cafes
• attend indoor entertainment venues such as nightclubs, live music venues, karaoke bars, concerts, theatres or cinemas
• attend outdoor entertainment activities such as sporting stadiums, theme parks or tourism experience like reef excursions
• attend festivals – either indoor or outdoor – such as musical festivals, folk festivals or arts festivals
• attend Queensland Government owned galleries, museums or libraries.

All this was before the new variant arrived so I’d expect things to get tighter and tougher soon.

It’s all so wrong. I am a bit unsure why and how such extreme measures have been allowed. Is the majority of the world willing to be herded and controlled? Where has critical-thought gone?

I say it a lot, but I am glad I’m an old fart. I dont have to make my way, build my life, construct my future. I’m content, occupied and independent of society. Sure, I shop and do ‘go out”, but I dont need night life, or entertainment, or excitement like when I was younger. I am more than hapi to tend to my life and my family and my animals.

Speaking of my animals… I’m moving forward with my dog breeding plans. I have my magnificent maremma bitches plus my mongrel mastiff babes. And the Big Red Dawg we call sperm bank.

I’m going to call my breed “XHounds”. Mike’s XHounds.

Ive come to the conclusion that the trend to breed for looks has destroyed many good blood lines. I use my Rhodesian Ridgebacks as an example: Got my first Ridgeback in 1990. Tane was a great dawg. big, beautiful, slept in our bed with the whole family. He was pretty, big, smart, but had health issues. Did not live very long. Our second RR was ChillyPepper. She was good but carried congenital issues in her breeding. I put her down due to terrible arthritis. She was less than 8yrs old. After came, Buster, Chewy, Jelly, Bean, Lauru, Iowa, Scarlet, and Rhett.

All were paper holding, registered pure bred Ridgebacks, and all had congenital problems. Not huge, terrible problems but enough issues to limit their longevity, their quality of life… noting well that Bean died earlier this year at the age of 12 and Lauru and Iowa and Scarlet are still alive and well in Honiara.

My aim with my current breeding programme is to breed pups that are healthy, long lived, and highly intelligent. And big. I like big dogs.

It’s a worthy hobby. A noble undertaking. And ensures that I shall never again not have a good dog in my life.

Earlier this year our big furry buddy, Kuma, died. He was only 8. had been terribly arthritic for ages. Way too long. Needed meds that made his gorgeous coat fall out.

So I’ll create a new breed, an XHound breed.

Here are a couple clips of 50kg Kuma being a good dawg with G.G., and ED when they were little. This is a good example of what a good dawg is. Big, beautiful, smart and a positive influence in your life…

https://www.facebook.com/100001079911713/posts/1580452702000712/?d=n

https://www.facebook.com/100001079911713/posts/1567913113254671/?d=n

Dawgs are good.

more later

A while back a childhood friend contacted me on line. I wrote about it at the time. It was poignant, sad, human…

https://nativeiowan.wordpress.com/2021/02/11/2021-v2-remindersofmortality/

I am trying to consider, feel, comprehend what it’d be like to not have my memories. My sense of History, Past, what once was. My sense of myself.

As a kid, the most enjoyable thing was to sit around and tell family stories… usually around the holidays: Turkeyday, Cmas, et al…. The old stories would roll out… like when the goose attacked mom, when dad had to clean up the dead cat out front of the Jackson St house, Bruce’s broken leg, Angela getting her head stuck in the wrought iron fence, looking at swans, at West Bend Grotto…

Memories are part of us, what we are, what we share with those close to us.

Where would we be without our memories? Without our past?

More later

Im still chewing on the “history” topic. The fact that The Past, History is critical, important, of great value.

I said before that most folks live their lives attempting to be More or Less than they really are.

I am thinking of two dear friends. Each had been sexually assaulted when very young. He had been raped by a family member. She had been raped by a trusted member for the extended church-family. Both kept “their secret” until they were older. Both suffered silently until they found a way to bury their history. They both lived many years incomplete, refusing, shying away from “that chapter” of their past.

Then each, noting they are close friends and we have discussed their experiences in-depth, found a way “out” of the metal and emotional prisons. Age was a factor with each. Becoming old enough, mature enough to start the process of “looking back”. Another commonality here was a spiritual need to be complete. A desire to cease being “broken”.

I shall refrain from psychoanalysing each of my friends, and choose to focus on the process of a) admitting and accepting the historical situation, and b) accepting a healing process whereby the historical event(s) are no longer as important, as negative, as secretive, as hidden as they had been. More of that “Skeletons in The Closet” stuff…

Each of my friends spent many years building their lives. As we all do, indeed, but for some of us who have been lost to ourselves, it is a long process. Perhaps never completed.

A common “thing” in the process is HONESTY. It is very, very difficult to be honest with yourself. We are notorious liars. Its a mammalian trait. And we lie more to ourselves than anyone else…

So, after many years, much anxiety and disruption and confusion, my friends each found a path toward healing themselves, making themselves complete, whole, unbroken. My buddy once said to me, “you never get over it, you just learn to come to terms with it”.

Each of my friends’ pasts’ are littered with broken relationships, sad endings, unhappy beginnings.The “IT” I speak of is a big thing, a huge factor in life, recognised or unrecognised.

“IT”, of course, is a devastating, long lasting energetic injury. IT damages, cripples, makes certain aspects of life all but impossible. There is always a topic that is off limits. Verboten. The book-of-self is placed high up on a dusty shelf, for fear of opening that unwanted chapter.

As I said, I shan’t go into psychoanalysing any of this. I’m just a story teller.

And I do speak from personal experience. I have spent much of my life “blowing. myself up”, intimating I was more than I really was. Smarter, stronger, faster, better, more complete, than I really, really was.

It was the process of “recapitulation”, as taught by the disciples of Don Juan and CarlosC, that took me into and through myself, my past, my energetic being.

Up until Carlos died his foundation, “Clear Green”, was a big part of my life. But thats another story.

Perhaps it has been my journey into and through myself that allows me to open up and talk candidly with others. I claim I have come to terms with myself. I am comfortable with my past. Nothing is verboten. Any more.

And this is good.

And I smile.

Have more to say about all this but I have work to do. It is a glorious day. I slept like a rock.

I enjoy being an olfart.

More later

I have been thinking about my “critical history”. About the idea that we all have, own, a history that is unique. Defining.

Of course we all have “a past”, a history, but I am coming to understand that there are points in my past that are critical, defining, unshakable, and ofttimes negative.

Some are positive. It’s great if defining points in one’s life are positive. But we all know that there is always a ying/yang effect in life, and the negative aspects of life can very much loom larger than the positives.

If you let them…

I guess a large part of where I am coming from has its foundation in meditation. I am a child of the 60s and have been imbued with, influenced by many divergent schools of Eastern thought. A large part of where I am coming from is based in the teachings of The Dojo, the Martial Arts. The way of The Warrior. As well, I have been very much influenced by “The Teachings of Don Juan”.

Perhaps most importantly to my thoughts today is a technique I learned in the 70s and 80s. Taught by Don Juan as “Recapitulation”…

I found this on line…

The recapitulation practice happens to be one of the most effective forms of active meditations invented to date. Unlike various forms of oriental meditation techniques with questionable results, such as the western version of mindfulness meditation and others, recapitulation has the potential to bring one up to speed with his/her own subconscious. In other words, once you become proficient in recalling past events without the intervention of the surface mind, the ability to focus and be self-aware become second nature in day to day circumstances, where the body-mind is able to assess and make decisions effectively and with confidence through “knowing.”… Castaneda might have been a creative story teller and you can question the authenticity of some of his stories but the concepts of impeccability along with the practice of recapitulation are the “holy grail” in my opinion.

And I agree, Carlos C. was indeed a creative story teller.

So, “critical history”, for me evolves around events in my past that energetically effect me in the long term. You might call it “karmic baggage”, but thats not 100% correct. It’s more definitive. More enduring.

I firmly believe that we are the sum total of our experiences. Most folks walk this earth being either more, or less, than they really are.

The old “Be here Now” theory is OK, but its not complete.

One cannot negate their past. One cannot be whole without their past.

Why am I chewing on this topic? For what purpose? For what end… of course a huge part is my personal journey. My energetic, cognisant, aware existence. Another part is the fact that I meet so many damaged people, so many walking wounded.

So many folks that are unaware of their critical history. Know not why they are wounded, injured, incomplete.

Some remain unaware by choice. Some are unaware because they are incapable of honestly looking into themselves. Too scared to be honest with themselves.

I have written about memory, how I practice remembering. How I exercise my memory. Basically, my practice of recapitulation.

I think knowing my past is important to me as I move into my future. I think that being aware of and coming to terms with my critical history is the same as “airing the skeletons in one’s closet”, so to speak. But much more.

I guess its one of the main reasons I write. I write to unload, to share, divest and understand. A good writer writes about what he knows. What he experiences. What he understands.

Or she…

I am gender inclusive…

And the beat goes on.

A gorgeous Sunday here in QLD.

Life is good.

Consider your personal critical history.

And smile.

An interesting past night and morn…

I go to bed early because I normally wake early. I like a good long sleep. I can easily snooze for 8-10 hours uninterrupted. Unless I gotta pee.

Last night, to bed as usual. Read a bit. Go to sleep. Weather is warm so the house is open. Sliding doors and sash window all open wide.

About 2am I woke as a frigid Sou-easterly made a racket. It made the old farm house howl and moan. The curtains flapped like a flag in the wind.

It was cold. Too cold. So I close the house a bit, as much as a drowsy old dude does at 2am. Go back to bed, and regret that I’d put my big winter’s blanket away. My lighter granny-blanket, and sheets didnt cut it. But I’m sleepy and lazy so I layer the pillows around me and curl up in the blankets I have, and listen to the howling night.

I didnt sleep as well as I normally do. I laid there in a semi-dream state both listening to the night and wandering the avenues of my mind. I love hitchhiking the roads of my memory. Wandering the avenues of life and fantasy.

The morning was clean and fresh. Still chilly and breezy, but the air was crisp and sweet. My morning chores led to a run up the range to buy a couple bales of hay. I brought coffee back for Gracie, then played farmer for a few hours. Needed another run into town, a little bit of mowing, a couple one-man jobs… Plenty to-do every day if you’re a farmer. And its all good.

By about 1pm I’m pretty ready for a break. I admit to the fact that I’m getting old. I’m not as strong nor as stupid as I once was. I don’t eat during “the day”, and haven’t really drank much more than a glass a water and a cup of coffee. I’m an old camel, and dont need much in my belly to function. But once I eat or drink anything I tend to get tired and lazy. So I’m OK with “quitting-early”. For a guy my age, maybe 5 hours of nonstop work/ activity is enough? My pedometer tells me I walked 5ks/ 3miles.

As I putter about, my thoughts are chewing on something… ruminating upon, the idea that the general public is eating the horse-shit being fed to them and agreeing with The Masters that they are eating caviar… “It’s Not Inflation”… “CRT is not being taught in our schools”… “The economy is doing fine”… “Coal is nasty”… “Green is Green”…

There is so much that is patently false that is agreed upon as deTruth… Black kids stand 90% higher chance of death by-cop than white kids. Guns are the cause for all our urban woes. Police are all white supremacy-dudes and all are bad. Defund the Police!

And folks know that its not all right but they nod and agree and say “ain’t that nice” as they join the herd…

I was talking to my buddy, Big-G., a while back. We were discussing the lack of Critical Thought… the lack of Honesty… the lack of Leadership…

And insanity rules… stupidity is the norm… Illegal Immigrants get offered big bucks for the damages and ills they have experienced at the hands of the USofA. While Veterans of Foreign Wars, the brave souls who served and protected, go totally unrecognised. As daily, law breakers crossing our borders, are treated with respect and courtesy. While local constabulary are defiled, reviled and exiled.

I know, I know… my words dont count. I’m a self-made, privileged, fat-cat, capitalist-pig. Oik, Oik!

There I beat some of you to it.

And I smile.

It’s a beautiful day. And the world around is regressing, getting dumber as I type.

More later

Big smiles

Over the last couple days I have been inundated by failing, old, no longer serviceable battery powered hand tools. In my farm’s tool shop I have three lead cell batteries that have decided to no longer “take a charge”. I have a drawer in the kitchen full of various, unsorted batteries varying in size from “D”, to “AAA”. My family tends to drop the used batteries in the drawer when they go get a new one, thus there is little ability to tell usable from rooted battery-in-the-drawer. I have a high lumens rechargeable light in my office, on my desk. It’s three years old, is branded as “EverLast”, cost a bomb, and does not hold a charge at all. My beloved Segway needs to go in and get new batteries and a charging unit. As I speak I have no less than twelve motor vehicles (mostly vintage/ collectable cars and bikes) plugged into a charger. There are no less than twelve batteries on charge for my “power tools”. I have a couple old phones hanging around, that still work, but have zero battery life. On charge, in my house rights now, we have two lap tops, two pads, three phones, and Gracie’s headphones, all on charge.

I believe that this is the Green Tech we have been hearing about. The idea that we can live a better life without nasty coal or diesel fired power plants.

I am beginning to see “charging stations” pop up in my vicinity. At the supermarket, at roadside service centres, In front of my favourite fishmonger… I didn’t take note and parked in the charging spot and got frowned at by a rather modern looking mother.

I am doing some research about disposing of my said dead, toxic sources of green energy.

Noting that I have not gone too deeply into this, I find that:

“Batteries are hazardous items which should be disposed of appropriately at a major Waste Facility or participating battery recycling retailer. To prevent fire and safety hazards, never place batteries in wheelie bins or with mixed household waste. Fires have been started by batteries inside bin collection trucks.”

So, I’ll see if Kmart will take my old batteries, and if Tools Direct will come get my old power tools. I am of the mind to pull the lead out of my bigger batteries. Simply because lead is cool to melt.

So, in this new Green world, when I go into Tools Direct and replace my dead Bosch drill-driver and its two batteries and charger, I’ll ask for something Greener. Something that maybe lasts 5 years before failing.

I hear the noise…. Your batter powered tools will last more than 5 years… you bet, sure thing, IF, that is, you dont use them much. I use mine a lot, and very hard. A number of drills, drivers, impact tools, grinders, saws, et al, hang in my tool room. And I use them all hard. Very hard.

I failed to list the rechargeable backpack sprayer, and a 72v rechargeable ride on mower I recently bought.

I feel good about “goin green”. And I’m not talking about the Packers…

But what about the waste?

I have 15kva of solar on the roof in Pwoods. I have a Tesla battery that allows me to claim that I produce 75% of my own domestic power needs. Which is cool. But at what cost?

This tells us its all safe and good, but not how the waste is managed: https://www.tesla.com/en_AU/support/sustainability-recycling

A quick check and we get this in regards to Tesla car batteries…
“Any battery that is no longer meeting a customer’s needs can be serviced by Tesla at one of our service centers around the world. None of our scrapped lithium-ion batteries go to landfilling, and 100% are recycled.”

The blurb on recycling is good, but why am I a doubting Thomas? Maybe because I have heard this line before? Maybe because I doubt the words I read. Maybe because I have been involved in recycling batteries before.

I feel good when I read that numerous battery recycling centres across the land will accept you batteries free from charge. Word is they “recycle” the batteries but…. BUT! In a land where transport and manpower is so costly. In a land where regulations are constantly subverted or ignored.

Well, call me a doubting Thomas on this topic.

Here in QLD life is good. Weather is good. The little bastard calf I saved from certain death smiles at me when I walk near him. His mamma shakes her head a snorts me a warning. She remembers the tug of war we had.

big smiles

More later