The Native Iowan

Its my Mother’s birthday today. She is 94.

So a big holler over the oceans to the toughest, most capable, most fearsome, most creative, fun loving, and loving woman I know.

Here’s to Happy Granny… wish we could celebrate with you. But then my parties are hard work. The one good thing about the KunFlu BS is no big, hard work, long recovery parties allowed… Maybe next year? We’ll both have to go into training. Your 85th bday party (as pictured above) left me exhausted for days.

Big smiles

A Wednesday morning here in lovely QLAND. The air is chilled, the cloud cover rather thick, rain is coming.

And rain is good.

Ive been hanging out here on the little farm in our happy valley close to Woodford. Had a bit of dry weather so we slashed a couple large fields. The grass had gotten so thick you couldn’t walk through it. It was a big task to mow it all down. Took maybe 15 hours to do the two big paddocks, close to the houses. I don’t intend to use right now. Considering that we are moving into winter, the dry season for us, I don’t want a thick load of fuel this close.

I dont intend to use these fields soon. We don’t need to. We have cut the herd in half, with only 16 breeding mammas, a big arsed bull named “Hank”, and 13 calves of varying age. I’ll shift 6 teenagers out soon. Prices are good so they’ll go to market and be shipped out west where they’ll graze and grow for another year or so.

Our’s is a small calf-factory type operation. Sold 22 breeders and claves a few months ago. I decided I didn’t want to get too big, work too hard. The 22 we sold were all young heifers. All bred here. They were like pets, but like teenaged, unruly poets.

The ones we kept are older, easier to manage, matrons of the paddock. The fewer head the more docile the herd. The old mamas are well trained. And they do move like matrons on a domestic mission.

Like ships afloat on a sea of green.

With 16 cows we can expect 16 calves in any 12 month period. I think the oldest calf in the herd was born July last year. Makes him almost a year old. The Youngest is maybe a month old. I expect 3 more calves soon, then we start again… all but the one that calved recently should be pregnant as we speak. Hank does a pretty good job.

Last eve Hank caught a whiff of a cow next door. The neighbour’s cows were on the north fence line, maybe 600meters from Hank. But he caught a whiff and sat on the fence where he was and bellowed for a couple hours. We laugh because Hank has a lisp and sounds much like Mike Tyson.

The farm is a good place. Kinda boring, a lot of walking, the big, old house is cold. Colder in the house than outdoors this time of year. Nice heavy blankets cover the furniture. The bed has a thick down comforter on it, with flannel sheets. Grace and I were just commenting how much sleep we are getting. It’s 914am and I’m bundled and zipped up. It’s 19c/66f, and it wont warm up much with this cloud cover.

Grace says I should put a heater in but I disagree. Like the heat of summer, the cold of winter is so short its not really worth the effort. Not like in the Northern Climes where you need a pile of fire wood the size of your house to survive a winter. Nope, here we just add layers of clothes. Sit in the sun. If eves get too cold I light a fire out back.

The farm is kinda boring in that life is simple here. Feed the dogs, watch the cattle, manage the few daily tasks that arise, noting it is a small farm. Nothing big or arduous or heavy here. I have a few projects to plan… the big rains pushed over a couple fence-lines in the back. I’ll schedule Mendozza to come home from school to help me. He’s a competent labourer and a very good machine operator.

But the life of a hobby-farmer is pretty good.

More later

Big smiles

Queensland is quite the place. I seriously don’t think you can find better weather anywhere on our globe.

Sure, I hear the peanut gallery… go ahead, have your laugh… but for me, QLD is the place to B.E.

Weather today is 29c/17c… 84f/64f. Great sleeping weather. Quite warm and sunny outside, but the pool is frigid cold. Very deceiving. Will sleep under a nice quilt tonight.

The best thing about autumn in QLD is that we don’t have to prepare for snow, for really, really cold. We might see freezing a few times a year, and we might get a bit of frost some mornings, but all in all my house stays open year round. We never turn on a heater.

Noting well though, Grace does like to take hot water bottles to bed with her.

Woke this morning in Toowoomba. Went up to see Mendoza, take him out to supper and spend the night at a nice hotel. Toowoomba is a cool, old QLD regional Capitol. Lovely architecture. Wide, clean streets, lots of cool cafes and eateries. Not a bad place to spend the night away from home.

We know Toowoomba well. Like Tville a lot. Sons Paul and Don went to boarding school here.

The school Mendoza attends was founded in 1875. Its very much a Harry Potter type brick and stone edifice. Large well cared for green grass and majestic old trees. The boys attend school in suit and tie.

Ive done the trip between here and Tville so many times it is like and old friend, or an old familiar pub. The 2.5hour drive is easy and enjoyable. A night in Tville is always gud, always nostalgic.

The world at large is rather confused. But, what is new?

I love it when one moralistic party or fraternity or sorority claim the high ground over another. Conservative v Liberal. Sexisit v feminist, racist v progressive. Black v White… an age old theme. Divide and conquer.

To own the moral high ground one must have “god on their side”, no? Both cannot claim sacred endorsement, or can they?

I think of Catsro who for years and years, decades and decades, gave the same, long, tiring speaches about “The Enemy”. His sacred high ground was nationalism… He died with the same invisible enemy at the gate as he fought against in the 50s.

But then, without an invisible enemy, Young Castro’s reason for controlling all and everything is questionable. Same goes for Old Castro.

Think about it… I have written about invisible enemies before. I don’t buy in. I prefer enemies I can see, and there are plenty of those about.

I see Australia shall soon implement “diversity quotas” in public work places. Your ability no longer matters. The best “man” does not win. Your hours of hard work and perseverance preparing may not have been positive, may not matter at all…if you do not meet the right criteria, the correct profile. What does matter is meeting the quota. Then everyone will eb happy and the world will be gud again.

But… I thought “Racial Profiling” was a mucho-negative thing?

But what do I know?

Im from QLD, and loving it!

Big SMiles

MoRe LaTer

Must have been busy, otherwise occupied… been a couple weeks and I have not been blogging.

Not sure why. Nothing too arduous or time consuming going on. I’ll put it down to laziness.

My house is quiet for now. Everyone off to church. I am watching UFC and cooking. So far the fights have been OK. I have a big pot of p’kin n beast stewing. It can simmer for hours and only get better. The Main Event bout is just coming up. All is copacetic.

As a matter of personal reminder, I need to mention here a couple things: Jeffery Epstein comes to mind first. What has happened to Epstein’s purported suicide? And GM’s arrest. Not much newz available per GM’s arrest and incarceration. She has thus far been refused bail.

This leads to a discussion on the Zero-tolerance to abuse… sexual, mental, emotional, spiritual… I find it interesting that it’s often those who profess the most support that are the worse perpetrators. The highest office in the land is NOT free of abuse. Those who we admire and enrich play us for fools.

Consider all the names of world leaders found in Epstein’s flight logs. It’s more of a question “who was not” on JE’s Lolita Express?

But, as we support Zero-tolerance (in many things) we agree to allow the US voter system to remain open for manipulation, grooming, abuse.

I note with some unease that here in Aus, a 30 year old sexual assault claim was levelled against a high ranking official. And taken seriously. Reminiscent of the Kavanaugh situation. Complete with credible witnesses and indisputable proof.

Much like Dopey Harry and Gold-Digger Meagan claiming that Charlie is a racist.

In many ways I am coming to appreciate the Aussie system more and more… You have to vote. It is a requirement. No vote and you get fined. So its no big drama… you go vote. Everyone votes. You have to fill in forms and mail them in – to NOT vote.

The Main Event ended in a No Contest/ eye poke decision. Kinda disappointing.

And the beat goes on.

More later

A slow, leisurely morning thus far. Its 29c/ 85f out and its only 10am. Will get a lot warmer before it gets cooler…

The weather has been quite warm and humid lately so the aircon is on and the house is comfortably chilly. I am sitting wrapped in a granny-blanket and checking the morning news on-line. I must say that the recent news-cycle is deficient in entertainment. Since Orange-man has been replaced by St.Biden things have gotten boring, sleepy, sad in many ways.

As I check the news I find article after article of bland tasting mush. Of course the in-control-Democrats in DC are preparing to consume each other. You can see it coming…

St. Biden is frantic to appease all and every faction that sold their souls so he could sell his. Everything from the Climate-Debate, to Gender-Realignment, to ending the USA’s self reliance on energy, to kissing arse in China and the USSR… The Pay-To-Play game is back and happening. Come one, come all.

Of course, the vaccine has been rolled out and the post-KungFlu morning is dawning bright and happy. Or is it? Here in Aus we’ve had a few deaths over the vaccine… Waiting to see what the response will be.

I dig the shit outta the fact that the legislators in the US are finally making some bow-waves in regards to relief to the many who have suffered through lockdowns and industrial suicides… I see a 1400.00 lump-sum payment going out. I also see a huge payment going out to the legislators and their aides as well.

I wonder how long the Antifa and BLM dogs can be kept on their leashes? Once a dog learns to kill chickens its damned hard to teach them to stop.

I have come across numerous discussions of “Renewable Energy Sources” that still do not get the facts straight. One of the things I like is the fact that we condemn carbon based energy as being “dirty”, but turn a blind eye to the waste and contamination that comes from our “green-tech”…

And…

https://www.wired.com/story/solar-panels-are-starting-to-die-leaving-behind-toxic-trash/

Ive discussed this before but… It aint “Green” at all.

But the world is racing to the cliff. Being herded to the cliff, more like it.

Doom n Gloom, eh?

Gracie has told me I take her to do shopping for the house. She does not want to drive. Recently had some medical work done to her eye and is milking it for all its worth. So I’ll be her taxi driver…

And the world is good.

More later

Smiles all around

Yep, another one. One I kinda forgot. But trading emails with my ol bud, DB, brought this up…

Between spring of 1979 and January 1981 I shared space with a Wolf. An interesting creature that taught me a lot about a lot. His wild-side was never fully domesticated, though he was a very good “dog”. He was all ways and basically a Wolf.

One of the things I figured out fast with “Nuclear Fusion” was he’d trade being domestic for being allowed to run wild.

For much of his life he lived comfortably as a house dog. He cooperated and was a very, very good “house dog”. But we had to go wild regularly.

And we did. He’d take me running through field and forest at night. I tell my grandkids that I learned to see in the dark from “Nuke”.

We’d go spend long weekends in remote camp sites. Summer, winter, didn’t matter. It was being wild that was important.

June/ July 1979, Nuke and I humped into a favourite spot in NE Iowa. Near the college town, Decorah. This place was state/ county owned. There was a little access point where you parked. Most folks sat there and thought they had found wilderness, but… if you humped-in 3 hours or more you got to a set of horizontal springs that were magnificent. A series of falls, with freezing water, fresh and sweet, filtered through thousands of feet of porous stone. Falls fell horizontally through limestone cataracts. Water seeped out of the cliffs, high huge sandstone cliffs lined the valley. A fine cold mist filed the air.

The small streams that surrounded had fish.

I dont know the name of the streams/ rivers but know the parking spot was called “Malanafy Springs”.

No one ever went there.

I humped-in a complete camp site… tent, sleeping bag, fishing gear, a light hammock, and… a big cast iron pot and three old metal tent posts.

I knew the area well and was inclined to hump-in, set up camp and use the spring water and the cast iron pot to make a big stew. I’d stopped at the local HiVee and bought some meat and veggies.

So I set up camp and have my pot of stew simmering by day’s end. Intending to stay there for days.

Nuke and I came up to be wild… to not be stressed by towns and people and rules about Wolves.

Weather is fine. My old 61 Dodge (push button transmission) is in no danger. We can simply disappear, go wild. For as long as we want.

My buddy, Nuclear Fusion, a Mekenzie Valley wolf, is my protection and my best friend. We enjoyed each other’s company. Going wild regularly was a requirement with Nuke.

Very little in these woods will “get you”. Possibly a rattle snake, but doubtful.

I intended to live pretty much naked for a week. We’d wake each day and go shower under the 34f falls. Fish and hike and go tramping with Nuke taking the lead. He taught me much.

We both liked fishing. All fish are tossed in the pot. Maybe Nuke gets one or two, but he likes cooked fish as well as raw.

The stock-pot started with meat and potatoes and carrots and such. We both live out of the pot. But we don’t eat much. As the days pass the pot becomes a fine, rich thick mess of gruel, with flakey chunks of fish and plenty of bones.

When we ran out of food or got tired of what we were eating we’d pack up and go home.

I was unemployed, hanging out between college terms. Taking the summer “off”, working a bit of construction. My folks owned an “INN” that served grog and food from 7am to 2am. Located in a two-horse-town in northern Iowa. I had a place to live and worked for the folks when they were busy or took off for as weekend. But mostly I was young and free. Enjoying the things I enjoyed with my buddy Nuke at my heel.

Or was it me heeling to Nuke?

I didn’t worry much about clothes while in camp. A pair of cut offs and maybe a sweat shirt if it got chilly. But mostly I put the same clothes on each day as Nuke did. I really enjoyed “running wild”, running naked, running free.

A lovely afternoon at camp… you can hear the falls in the distance. We’ve been up and fished and replenished the pot and got fire wood and were just hanging out. I was laying in my string hammock, Nuke was laying between me and the fire. We both dozed and listened and sniffed the air, then dozed some more… It was good.

We were both undressed.

Nuke heard it first and cocked an eye at me… it was a distinct noise of “people” coming up the train leading to us… leading to the falls.

I gave him a one-eyed acknowledgement and played possum. He held steady…

We were on the main trail to the falls, not unusual if someone walked up but, so few made the trek to the falls I had never expected this…

I did not have time to get dressed. Standing up and introducing myself didn’t look like a good move. So I pretended to snooze. As did Nuke.

I peer through closed eyes… A mature man and woman with a couple younger folks slow as they note the camp site, caught sight of a naked, hairy dude in a hammock with a jet-black canine.

They detour around the camp site and carry onto the falls. They did not return via the main trail so we never saw them again.

And, I am sure that to this day the guy and his family talk of the day the went hiking and encountered a wild man and his dog in the woods.

Big smiles all around…

A lonely summer’s eve here in QLD. It’ll drop to 18c/ 65f before dawn tomorrow. The weather here is great. Tee shirts and shorts every day of the year. Some folks wear jumpers or hoodies or sweatshirts during winter. I wear funny hats.

I am writing today thinking about mortality.

My two grand daughters are swimming in the pool near. I am ostensibly the adult-in-charge but I told Gracie I ain’t qualified.

It’s a gentle eve. Lots of fauna noise and activity. Nova and I have been out through the back-40 on the Segway looking to see what’s out n about. She’s is a very good observer.

A year ago my ol’ compared and partner in crime, Pat P., passed.

Earlier this year my last, bestest, greatest Dawg, Kuma, passed.

Another old friend, we met in the 5th grade.

The only reason we met was because we were both catholic, and both the same age. We were tossed in a classroom with about 30 other same-aged catholic children.

By 5th grade I was a introverted book-reader. I was never good at school but read a lot. Loved the old and the new… Herman Melville and SE Hinton. Margaret Henry.

The classroom was a confused place. To a huge degree it was socialisation not education. I was not inclined to compete much in sports. I went to work delivering newsparers about that time. Delivered papers after school. So never joined the various sporting teams; football, baseball, basketball…

And my friend was the same. In a small pond we found friendship where we didn’t really fit in.

We were close compadres until our paths split when we were 17/18 years old. We saw each other sporadically until I split for good in January 1981… I’ve always know where he was and what he was doing. As I believe he has know of my where-abouts.

Over 50 years later we are still friends. We still share memories.

I’m big into memories. I exercise my memory. Have done so for a long time.

By examining my memory, my retrievable memories, I purge both demons and angels. By writing and virtually publishing I give what I can remember, what I write about, away. It’s no longer mine completely.

As a sail or as an anchor, memories effect us hugely. By sharing them both atonement and healing can be found.

I think that’s a quote from Freud?

Can healing be found through reconciliation with memories? Maybe, I’d like to think so.

My friend of 50+ tells me he has Alzheimers. His memories are fading.

I’m more than happy to be as much help and support as I can.

Noting very well that MORTALITY comes in many shapes and forms.

Smiles all around.

Cherish your memories.

Open Letter To All whom I may have offended and All whom may have offended me

We Can Be Friends

I think it’s more of a function of age than anything else… this getting pissed off with people because of differences of opinion. 

What happened to the old “we agree to disagree”? Not acceptable any more. 

I find that pretty much all of my age group is inherently grumpy, and the political scene is a trigger that can set us off. Our skin has gotten thin with age. 

My trigger is stupidness. I struggle to hold my tongue when I see someone being fucking stupid, swallowing the propagandistic political hooks baited with recycled BullSHit. 

A lot of it all comes from a recent heightened sense of political awareness. Or, maybe, an overall heightened general awareness? As we age our sense of time changes. Mortality means more for me at 60 than it did at 30. 

My trigger is stupidity. 

What is your trigger?

Is it religion, or race, or gender, poverty, or industrial-military might being misused or… 

Difference and disagreement is good… or it used to be good. Passionate discussion has always been a positive pastime. Debate until you change your point of view. Listen and learn. And maybe offer few lessons to others. We learned through sharing and interacting. 

But not any more… Is it a product of age? 

I have been kicked to the curb, abused, defamed, gang rapped, trolled, and much maligned by what were once friends, who now, because I don’t agree with them, consider me the opposition party. The enemy.

Just because I do not agree with YOUR Truths of Today does , for some, mean I am the opposition. 

Which gives some folks the right to tell me how despicable and terrible and horrible and nasty I am. 

I am tempted to reprint a dialogue I had with one close friend last October. But I won’t. Its petty of me even to raise it, but that individual steam rolled right over me, starting with a great line… “I don’t care about the facts this time…”, and ended with a very loving, or one-time loving line… “I used to be proud of you…”.

Another dear, dear old friend went into melt down when Hillary lost the 2016 election and for some reason chose me to attack. 

I was never a Clinton supporter of any kind and wrote a rather lengthy discussion about the change in the electorate and the fact that we got a megalomaniac from the private sector instead of an entrenched political swamp creature. I wrote looking at the situation from both sides. But all made little difference in the long run. Boy, that individual was not happy with me. Still aint. Considers me The Enemy.

I consider it all a function of age. As we age, we get grumpy.

Intolerant may be a better word.

But why are we getting stupid-er at the same time? 

I think of my last trip to the USA… Late in the year, 2018, I was divesting myself of an apartment we’d had in Pasadena. When I went to the US my daughter told me I could not wear a red  hat I liked, said it made me look like a Trump-guy…

We’d kept the apartment on Cordova as a fail-safe to our Australian Emigration plan. We were home and hosed in Australia, accepted as residents, no longer the need for the pad in Pasadena, the back door…

I was about done with my move. Had divested all possessions: motorcycles x2, Jeep SUV, household goods. Was sleeping on a leather sofa I just left in the apartment. 

That’s when I inadvertently found a very, very old and dear, dear friend living within blocks of Cordova. After being there for a few years we found each other, living in such close proximity, just as I was moving out. 

Of course, we met up, after almost 20 years, we sat and caught up on life. We had a lot of ground to cover. 

One of the “things” that came up was the fact, as I had it explained to me, that my white privilege had enabled me in everything and every-way in my life. 

This was the first time I had the whole privileged thing explained to me, and I listened, really listened about White Privilege… I had read of it and had an idea but my dear friend explained it to me in depth, over supper. 

I did not agree and said so. I spoke of my life, explained my position, argued the proffered explanation and disagreed that any of it made much sense and none of it applied to me. 

The topic was changed. I never met my friend again. I had not measured up, I guess, not been acceptable, any longer, because I did not agree.

Did not agree with what though?

Part of the problem is the “MEME, disguised as fact or news”. Part of the problem is people are naturally lazy, and our modern world has enforced this trait. Few do the home work. Few research and study. 

I admit to being a repeat Offender. 

And…

My bedside manner sucks. 

One thing I am guilty of, with another friend, is not allowing them to be stupid. It goes back to dumb memes… It combined sports and politics… A retired sporting hero saying something positive about Trump… my old friend states that the ex-hero was never any good so should not be listened to. 

I got involved, aiming to correct my dear friend’s social stupidity I tendered that the ex-hero was indeed a legend in his times, but just because he held records did make him an authority on the political scene. Sure, his endorsement of Trump was kinda news, but the public blasting of the ex-hero because of his endorsement was herd mentality. The cancel-culture at work. I stated publicly that my old friend was way too smart to stand in line and say “moooo” with the other brainless bovines on-line. 

Nope, we went back and forth. I was wrong. I lost. Because the ex-hero supported Trump, all his past achievements were cancelled-out. 

Another one was the idea that the world is systemically racist. One on-line-friend attempted to counsel me, to explain to me how I was racist, had to be racist, and didn’t even know I was racist.

My answer was “go fuck yer self”. 

So, indeed, my bedside manner does suck.

Apologies for me are easy. I apologies for having such a terrible bed side manner. But not for the facts. 

I apologise for being rude and blunt but that’s nothing new for me. If you know me and are still offended by my ways, well, not much I can say. 

I apologise for not being a pussy, a frightened creature seeing doom and gloom and terror and sadness. 

I apologise for calling out the bullshit, for insisting that we use facts when we talk matters of importance.

But I’ll never apologise for putting small children on fast machines. For raising my pups to be risk-takers. 

I’ll never apologise for insisting my tribe are not timid. 

I’ll never apologise for having so fucking much fun in life.

Smiles all around

More later

Sunday afternoon here in QLD. A nice warm day with a bit of breeze. Lets have a look around the globe: (in celsius) Palmwoods = 29c, Des Moinse = -1c, London = 2c, Sweptstone = -1c, Missoula = -2c, Los Alamos = -3c, Pasadena = 9c.

I am thinking today about “maturity”, being mature.

I am assisting my 18yrold Grandson, Angelo, into his next stage of “mature” life, University. I’m not doing much for him, but I keep the pressure up, keep checking on his progress. I talk to him about maturity. MATURITY AND RESPECT.

I’d like to sound wise and wax prophetically about the past, how growing up was different and how “coming of age” now a days is alien to “what is wiz in de-daay”,. But thats BS at best. Life is a drama, a struggle, a battle from day one to day zero. Its not easy for a young-guy, period. Its not easy for a young-gal, period. Just like its not easy for an old fart. Or a middle aged mother of four, or… Life just aint meant to be easy.

Joyful, tearful, scarred-up, bruised, scraped, abraded… sure, daily. But never easy.

I kinda see much of life similar to the perverse propensity to watch scary-as-shit movies. Or to hop on scary-as-fuck roller coasters. We like the buzz. We need the buzz. To coin a bit of WE… we all need to feed the rat. A shot of adrenaline is great Rat food.

My RAT likes speed. Likes exhaust fumes and good brakes.

Got away- for-the-day on two-wheelz the other day. Had to go check up on the ’61 Thunderbird.

So a nice 5hour round-trip ride. Down in the morning, an hour of bike talk, then run back. Traffic was good. My old BMW is running well…

I forget that the best thing about a decent bike ride is the isolation. Gear up and you’re in an isolation chamber. Not totally isolated but perhaps separated, a part from the immediate world. It goes back to n”be here now”.

Two-Wheelz are deadly. Riding is not easy. It takes concentration. The more concentration the better you ride.

I slept really well that night.

So, as the world turns, as boys become girls, as feminists become apologists…

Don’t forget to feed your RAT.

Smiles

I have written much about my passion for “blood sport”. And the bloodiest sport I know is UFC. And a couple of the bloodiest battlers known are fighting today.

Away we go…

Smiles

It is Inauguration day in the USofA. J.B. Has been duly sworn in with his VP, K.H.

All is well in the universe! Like the ending scene in Star Wars, after all the fighting and death and carnage, where Solo, Luke and Lieha stand on a podium before a throng of worshiping citizens, receiving medals of honour. All smiles and joy and hope and promise.

I did a round of the world’s headlines: “Democracy has overcome”, “A New Era”, “Ivanka in Tears”, “The inauguration Trump wished for”…

I’m rather impressed how it all came down. How it all worked out. How it all got manipulated and perverted to a point of fear and loathing. But it worked out, I guess.

I watched one series of FB comments where someone had stated that Biden was not their president, and another person said he’s been elected Prez, so respect the Office… sure, sound very sensible.

Belated but sensible.

I shall not comment on the depth and breadth of the hypocrisy being purveyed about. Nope, not one word about the foolish, childish, gleefully disrespectful tweets, comments, headlines and bylines. Especially the one where Melanie is called “immature” for something she said to Jill Biden.

Such rank BULLSHIT!

But that’s ok.

What’s not OK is the US electorate being zoomed so blatantly, so openly, so cooperatively.

It’s not OK, Not OK at all.

More later

On January 11, 1981, I arrived for my first time in Solomon Islands.

Days before, at the tender age of 23yrs and 4months, I had “left” the USofA. Had become an “expatriated American”.

As a Peace Corps Volunteer I was an employee of the US Government, working directly for the Ministry of Education, S.I. I made $90.00-solomon-dollars-a-month plus housing. I taught manual arts at 2 very rural boarding schools. For a year at Siota, then at Choiseul Bay. I was a PCV for 5 full years.

As a long-haired liberal arts student, with the best do-Gooder intentions, I fit rather well into the Ex-Pat way of living. I got along with the islanders, and perhaps was entertaining to the other, more well-healed, less raggedy ExPats. I can only say that I was well treated by all I met.

An expatriate, or ex-pat, is an individual living and/or working in a country other than his or her country of citizenship, often temporarily and for work reasons. An expatriate can also be an individual who has relinquished citizenship in their home country to become a citizen of another.

One thing that I found confusing was this: The further away from living in America I got, the more patriotic I became. And the more intelligent I became about the USofA. More learned, perhaps… It was a sink or swim scenario…

I was young and learned quickly that Aussies and Britts, and others, loved to “take the piss” out of Yanks. I was not in Yank-Land. Guam and the North West Pacific is indeed Yank-Land. The Marianas, Kosarae. Not the Solomons. I was a target. All Yanks were targets. There were not vey many Yanks in residence.

And it could get a bit messy. Especially when meeting elder Ex-Pats with polished debating skills.

It was common to be called upon to defend the US “way of doing things”. It’d start with “…you Yanks…”, or “…your President…”.

These were the early days of Reagan. He was inaugurated shortly after I left the US. I found defending “Raygun”, The President, very difficult. But I could and did defend America. Poorly at first. And after a few communal embarrassments, not knowing what I was defending, I researched and studied the US Constitutional situation, v the Common Wealth/ Parliamentarian situation. I armed my self with knowledge and facts.

At that time I had, supposed, deep rooted ideals and beliefs. I was young… My ideals and arguments were poorly formed and inadequately articulated, I admit. Mostly I had inherited said ideals from my peers or consciously rejected those of my parents. Few had I seriously thought through.

I am a child of the 60s. A teen of the 70s. I protested and door knocked at a young age. Considered myself an activist. Rallied against nuclear energy without knowing what it was. Thought much of little, and little about much. I was a product of the system of the time, wore an old army shirt, buttons and badges and slogans and all. I considered myself “cool”.

I didn’t know my elbow from my asshole. I was uneducated and ignorant of the worldly-way of things.

I considered myself very wise and astute.

I got my butt kicked in verbal debates. For years, maybe a full decade.

For years I did not have the tools to “fence”, to compete with the more astute and experienced debaters.

So I did my home work. I always had a mini-reference library. In the days before internet and instant info, I’d collected a number of tomes. From Plutarch’s Lives, to a number of biographies, to those old two and three volume encyclopedias, some decades old. As the years went by I bought a set of Encyclopedia Britannica. I read and started to learn a lot about a lot. Read the Greatest Works of Western Man.

Most people know a little about a little. Few folks know a lot about a lot. Most know enough to make them dangerous.

But facts beat everything.

Or, at least, they used to…

I’m not going to go far here but I will raise the spectre of a young, I believe to be abused child, Greta Thunburg…

https://www.hitc.com/en-gb/2020/11/13/greta-thunberg-net-worth-climate-change-activist-i-am-greta/

Here we have a child who for some ungodly reason is paraded around, listened to, because she espouses utter bullshit with a huge amount of emotion.

Facts are meaningless, I guess, if a youngster is the bearer of politically correct bullshit.

All and many applaud and smile and support. Even though the “facts” according to Greta, being sung and praised, are unsustainable, flawed at best, hopelessly confused and often just plain wrong. She even got to make a race for the No-Ball Prize. With a gallery of buffoons and PC policemen clearing the road.

She didn’t win.

Yep, and I shall get kicked for saying this…

In our modern world the facts matter less than the modern accepted TRUTH.

TRUTH before facts. I think Saint Biden said that.

It’s happening as we speak. After numerous occasions, months of violence driven by the LEFT, federal buildings invaded, innocents killed, months of BLM BS, ANTIFA led disobedience and destruction… which was whitewashed, disregarded, misreported, ignored, said to be either a MYTH, or a SUMMER OF LOVE. Now, as the RIGHT acts-out, its sedition.

Treasonous.

Do not get me wrong. I hold no allegiance to any political party or individual. I think all and everything political is corrupt. Period. Plain and simple.

Violence is wrong. Almost never justified. Almost never.

So I watch now, as things like civil rights mean less and less. Lock downs and house arrest is a common occurrence. Been so now for about 8 months. Communities of millions, under house arrest, locked down, under law, enforced by – force. World wide.

And its getting worse!

I love the modern pussified-world ideal that everyone should have all their needs satisfied by the central Government. “I’m too weak and feeble to care for myself. So take care of me, please. But I want a nice bed, and a cool set of wheels, and daily rations of booze and tobacco and my drug(s) of preference, and, oh yeah, food, and medical care and education for my kids… here, you take the kids and raise them, you’ll do a better job. I’m busy.”

Its is a farce in more ways than one! There are too many accepted farces to talk about…

In this calendar year, 2021, noting I’ll publish this by the 11th – there have been well over 1 million abortions world wide.

https://www.worldometers.info/abortions/

According to WHO, every year in the world there are an estimated 40-50 million abortions. This corresponds to approximately 125,000 abortions per day. In the USA, where nearly half of pregnancies are unintended and four in 10 of these are terminated by abortion [1] , there are over 3,000 abortions per day. Twenty-two percent of all pregnancies in the USA (excluding miscarriages) end in abortion. [2]

Am I the only one that see this as a huge stain on our communal soul? I get well and truly roasted each time I raise this issue. I’m not suppose to have a say herein. I’m not a woman! But we cry because of the sins of our ancestors whist murdering our future. I simply do not get it.

Moving on…

I love it when the BS RACE CARD is pulled out and used, time and time again. The modern day ultimate putdown… You are Racist… I’ve been called it a lot. Yea, go figure…

Is RACE a major problem? I’m not so sure. My world is not racist. I hope your world is not. But if you take it upon yourself to seek out, find, name, ingest racism, it’s your call. Life is a mirror. Be a racist and you’ll sure as shit see racism. I don’t have that problem. I am most defiantly NOT Racist. I will get shouted down… For many, too many, racism is a big, big deal.

But we can fix it all… fix it with $$$$$… It can pay to be a VICTIM.

Reparations… The exchange of something of value for sins of the past. Almost Catholic in its concept…. The idea is of a systemic, societal, race driven evil that we all must atone for.

How far do we go back? Who gets compensated, and for what?

My grandmother’s people were dispossessed by the Ottoman Empire. They were Greeks in Turkey. They were sent “home”, maybe “ran for their lives” after living in the same place in Turkey for generations. They got off easy. They missed the genocide.

The Greek–Turkish population exchange came out of the Turkish military’s reaction against Christian minorities in the late days of the Ottoman Empire and its subsequent massacres of them: Adana massacre of 1909, Armenian Genocide of 1914–1923, and Greek genocide 1914–1922.

The Armenians got genocide. My Greek forbearers got to live but lost everything. Side note here… My maternal Grandfather and his brothers fought in the Greek-Turkey wars…

The Greco-Turkish War of 1919–1922 was fought between Greece and the Turkish National Movement during the partitioning of the Ottoman Empire in the aftermath of World War I, between May 1919 and October 1922.

Reparation… to repair something… The idea is simple, the Government of the day uses tax payer money to alleviate a moral wrong, a historic ill, a blot on our communal soul.

Pay the money and its all well. All ills gone. Positive and virtuous futures guaranteed for all…

????

In one word: FUCKOFF!

Why are we being so fucking stupid?

Moving on…

I love the corny concept of WHITE PRIVILEGE.

Just because I am “white” I have been privileged. And I should be ashamed. I owe someone something somewhere.

Sure makes sense to me…

Again, in one word: FUCKOFF.

Explain to my emmigrant ancestors how privileged they were. Explain to the Irish that their centuries of subjugation by the English was privileged. Explain to the Jews and Roms and many other races that suffered under the hands of Hitler of their privilege.

Nope. FuckOff!

And we, adults, parents, grandparents, teachers, coaches and caregivers encourage our off spring to be virtuous and ignorant and compliant. To parrot the untruths of the masses, the PC masses. Just like poor little Greta Thunberg… she makes sense by not making sense. By being a symbol for that which is accepted as TRUTH, but remains false.

So much of our world revolves around untruths…

The beginning of slavery was something like 1669, and the first slaves were africans, enslaved by whites and taken to the Americas. All whites in America thus owe all blacks in America some form of reparation… ???… !!!

Should we talk about GLOBAL WARMING?

The sky is falling, the sky is falling.

Quick, we only have 91 months before the world ends… we must do something!

QUICK!!!!

Again, fuck the fuck off!

Seriously. In the known history of mankind we are currently better off, better fed, better housed, world wide, without exception things are better, easier, freer, safer, warmer, cooler, more prosperous, more long lived, more productive, more travelled, more educated… than in known history.

Sure, not everything is rosy. Starvation, plague, civil unrest, terribly corrupt leaderships are still a reality. But go back 100years. Where were we then? Are things now perfect, idyllic, better… Maybe not perfect but things today are sure as shit better than 100 years ago.

The Spanish flu, also known as the 1918 flu pandemic, was an unusually deadly influenza pandemic caused by the H1N1 influenza A virus. Lasting from February 1918 to April 1920, it infected 500 million people – about a third of the world’s population at the time – in four successive waves. The death toll is typically estimated to have been somewhere between 20 million and 50 million, although estimates range from a conservative 17 million to a possible high of 100 million, making it one of the deadliest pandemics in human history.^[3][4][5]

World War I (or the First World War, often abbreviated as WWI or WW1) was a global war originating in Europe that lasted from 28 July 1914 to 11 November 1918. Contemporaneously known as the Great War or “the war to end all wars“,^[7] it led to the mobilisation of more than 70 million military personnel, including 60 million Europeans, making it one of the largest wars in history.^[8][9] It is also one of the deadliest conflicts in history,^[10] with an estimated 9 million combatant deaths and 13 million civilian deaths as a direct result of the war,^[11]while resulting genocides and the related 1918 Spanish flu pandemic caused another 17–100 million deaths worldwide,^[12][13] including an estimated 2.64 million Spanish flu deaths in Europe and as many as 675,000 Spanish flu deaths in the United States.^[14]

All just a short century ago. And things, though getting better in 1921, had just gone through a terrible stretch.

Where am I… I do ramble about sometimes…

No I do not think racism systemic. No I do not think that spending billions of tax payer money fighting Global Warming is sensible. No I do not believe I am privileged by my birth. Nor do I believe others are cursed by their birth.

Of course there is, has always been, an Elite Class, one that looks down on the “average man”.

Is this class my enemy? Not sure they are my friend, but not too sure they are my enemy either. I don’t like the idea of having unknown enemies. Invisible entities that I fear and blame for all that is wrong in my world.

So, for 40 solid years I have been an expatriated American. And this shall not change. My luck has held out. Ive been absolutely and insanely lucky in my life. I grew up in a big house in rural Iowa, surrounded by a very large and loving family. I got to find the mythical Solomon’s Islands while still young and adventurous. My 30 years in the Solomons was one huge and enjoyable adventure including building my own family, learning the ways of the bush and the ocean, meeting and befriending many, many interesting folks along the way.

Ive ended up here in The Land Of Aus. A great place to be when old. Just as the Solomons was a great place to be when young.

I shall never call the USofA home again. I may never get back, noting the ways of the world and the state of travel and the confusion of crossing borders.

And thats OK.

One thing I have decided to be very conscience about… Be Happy Where You Are.

Smiles.

Big Smiles… Here’s to forty more years of ex-pat life.

Friday January 8, 1pm. Rains are here for a few days. Temps are cool to chilly.

Great summer weather.

I have told a number of Dawg Tales. Ive been lucky to have had some GREAT DAWGs.

But then, I am a DawgPerson. I speak fluent Dawg.

My good buddy, Kuma, didn’t wake up this morning.

What can I say about a great, great pain-in-the-arse, strong headed, often incontinent 50kg canine?

He seldom listened. Hated rules. Got old way too soon. For about half his life he suffered from nasty big-dog arthritis. In the end he hobbled around like an old man, I think of my old Compadre DonV, walks like a puppet, takes small steps and does all slowly. Mechanically.

In his prima Kuma was a dancer. He loved to run and jump and play rough. One day in maybe 2015, I was playing rough with Kuma, he’d run and jump and try to rough me up and knock me over, and I’d try to knock him off balance. Wrestle him down. We’re in the back yard, both scratched n dirty and sweating, when a neighbour walks up. She asks, “Who is winning?”.

Not all people are DawgFolks. Just like not all people are into motorcycles, or fishing, or knitting… But I believe most all my faithful readers appreciate the bond between man and canine. It’s a primordial bond. Forged by fire’s-side, and tested by eons of trials, tribulations and adventures. The bond between canine and man is a huge part of what has made both so dominant in our modern world.

An old Greek Uncle, when asked about his religious beliefs was known to say… “I hope reincarnation is true so I can come back as a dog in America”.

Smiles all around

Friday, 1 January, 649pm. It has been a busy day thus far…

Woke to a loud plastic whistle being blow by an exuberant 4yr old. Some well meaning adult bought the kids whistles to herald the NY in… I have successfully confiscated and disposed of all whistles today, thank you. Tomorrow will start better!

We have a couple large Solomon families here. We will carry on late. Some will stay over and tomorrow morning with show the effects of a two-day-island-binge. It’l be a slow kick-start tomorrow morn. The kids will be cranky. The dads short fused and the moms thin lipped.

Life is gud

We started yesterday afternoon. Very few restraints. Kids of all ages, perfect weather, a big pool, a back yard with dirt bikes and a quad. The Segway is a big attraction. Fun for one and all. No one got injured.

Add to this heady elixir loads of grog, good food and impromptu island dance and sting band. Very heady stuff…

I comment quietly that even our SDA friends are enjoying a drink or two. A nice wine or a sweet alcho-pop the teens drink.

Noise abounds; a boom box blaring islands beats, a loud TV supposedly entertaining the kids, motherly dictates, fatherly swearing, loads of laughter, quite a few tears, and singing of all sorts.

The melodious sing-sing quality of a world filled with tok-pijin…

The rousing rounds of wokabuti lo Solomoni and god bless the Solomon Islands from shore to shore… all very nice, fun.

The young teen gals did some great dancing. Which led the mothers and grandmothers to recall youth and join in.

Shall I comment, not without some talent.

It was all very positive.

There was enough food to leave the table open… plenty for later, a friendly game of cards is starting, HA! It’ll end in bloodshed!

And the beat goez on…

See you in 2021…

Smiles

1118am, been up since 5. My work all done. Think I’ll take a nap.

Smiles

Thursday 24 December, 20:20. 1pm:

I sit and wait an hour until my next cooking task. I shall start a running commentary as I carry on….

In the kitchen I have 4cups of yeasty flour rising. It’ll be a long process before it becomes fresh baked pastry Cmas morn.

In the oven, 4-5kgs/ 10lbs of beast on the slow roast.

In an hour I’ll check the processes. I expect the beast to cook for a long-assed time. Soon we’ll get the potatoes n punkin, carrots n garlic ready to add. I’ll start the tedious process of draining and clarifying the drippings and juices. In 6hours we’ll have a good roast supper ready.

The flour will rise soon enough, but I’ll just knock it down, then let it rise again. Eventually I’ll roll it all out and lay it on baking paper, pile it all up then pop it in the freezer. Early morn we’ll let is thaw and rise then do the cutting and filling and baking. My Mom used to do that. I remember her and Granny freezing trays of rolls and bread and pastry. Pull one out, let it thaw and rise, you got fresh baked bread.

4cups of flour is gong to make a pile of goodies.

I am going to gloat a moment, perhaps even crow… Where I come from “bragging” was at times called “crowing”.

18year old Angelopolous has been struggling to find motivation to find a job. He has successfully completed his 12thyear of formal education. Has applied for further education, and has been hanging around. Supposedly looking for work but unable to do the work required to find work… So I sent him down the road to the local burger joint. A place that sells 1000kgs/ 2200lbs of hamburgered meat a week. Or, perhaps they did before the Kung Flu. They’re busy now but not as busy as they have been.

Check out… https://www.ricksgarage.com.au. .

I know the owners well. Told them I’d send Mr A down for a test run as a kitchen-hand. He Strats full time Sunday.

And I was right, correct, factual… when I told Angelo to walk down and just tell the boss you’ll do anything, anytime. I was right.

CRRRROOOOOWWWWADOOodledooo…

455pm: Been busy.

The beast is slow cooking. Another couple hours or until the punkin n spuds are cooked.

950pm: Supper complete. All was very good. Plenty of leftovers to process. Leftovers are good.

So my day is about done. Its been a very good day. Tomorrow will be fun. I’ll wake 5am or so to do the breakfast baking.

And all is well with the Universe.

Smiles all around.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night…

It is Cmas eve, morning here. The weather has broke. Gone is the 100f/ 35c temps with high humidity and a blistering sun. Over cast and gentle is this morning. The fauna is out and appreciative. The heat these past few days has been intense.

An old compadre from Michigan, The Dancing Bear, sent some discussion materials this morn. Namely an editorial from the local rag in Storm lake, Iowa. DB and I do not agree much per anything (except motorcycles – he likes and has owned Urals too) and so, for some 30 years we communicate and discuss the world from divergent points of view.

I copy my discussion with Db here in… Merry Cmas to all…

Cmas eve day here. I have two little granddaughters living with me, so the magic of Cmas is alive. Or should I say the selfishness of Cmas is alive?

Being the middle child in a large family, there was never a whole lot of “booty” for me during Cmas. I was the youngest child for a very short time and Cmas, thought fun and cool, was never “loot” oriented in my mind.

Of course the modern commercial world makes it all about “stuff”.
My teenaged grandsons are worse. Fuck me gently, they want, want, want so much.

But our Cmas tree (a potted fig) is up and I’ve been slowly stacking presents under it.

I like to buy educational type gifts. This year it is wooden puzzles… a pendulum clock, a solar calendar, a scale locomotive, a perpetual motion machine that moves a small ball bearing up and around and about.

I bought Gracie a new machete.

It’s a really nice, ol Skool type machete. She will like it.

I can completely agree with a few (a few) things the esteemed editor of the Storm Lake Rag has to say… mainly people are stupid. And Iowa has no monopoly…

It’s been quite some time since the recent vote counting and now that the system has proven itself to “work”, now that the President Elect is in the wings, waiting to be inaugurated, the rhetoric is that of doom and gloom. Lock down and control. Dire prophesy of “more to come”, “piles of bodies”, unparalleled death and destruction…

And this comes from the folks that had the answers a few short weeks ago.

I say it again, fuck me gently, how stupid is the consumer?

Here in Aus we just got locked down again. Just as we were planning a long Cmas to NYrs outdoor party, preparing for an “Islander in Exile” party, a cluster of Kung flu in and around Sydney locks the borders down, seals the season into a jar, prohibits families from getting together. Keep folks isolated.

In QLD we are pretty good. The restrictions were not terrible in their own right. Not like places like Melbourne or South Australia where households were locked-in, not allowed to venture out but for necessities. One designated from each household allowed to go buy necessities. In some places for over 100 days or more.

Though schools and offices, and bars and eateries, and transport and entertainment forbidden… Grog shops have remained open and busy everywhere.

I joke with my local grog shop employees that they are Front Line Essential Service Workers.

And the beat goes on.

More later

big smiles

More rain and humid, overcast, potential storm kinda weather. A pleasant 26c/80f. On and off showers, sunshine, steamy kinda weather. The pool is brisk. I was cooking and being busy and when sweat gets too much, a hop in the pool, it changes everything.

I have recently been “working on” my memory. Working at refining my memories, seeing things clearly, aiming to remember as much a stay be possible.

I claim to have a memory from hell. I claim to remember a lot. Given a chance, given time, I claim I can find most memories. Of course I have not been subjectively tested, but what the hell? I’ll still boast a damn decent memory.

I have vivid memories of the womb.

Distinct memories of being very small, before I possessed language.

Memories of the womb are mostly auditory. No scent or sight involved. My very young memories are caleidoscopic. A mix of visual, olfactory, auditory. And more. The sense of smell is strong in my memories.

I’ve recently been reviewing my memory data base. Exercising. I choose an important milestone, let’s try Kennedy being shot, November 22 1963. I go there and check my memories out.

I know where I was living. In fact, I can still find it on google earth, sort of. I know the area but the topography has changed a lot. The house and the barn and the out buildings of the farm where we lived, south of Knoxville, Iowa, are gone. The land has been turned to cropping of corn and soy beans. Fence rows have been ripped up and changed. The slews and ponds filled in and levelled. But the roads appear to be pretty much the same.

I see the place clearly.

The house is a small grey/white two story. A fair distance from the road. Barn, a number of out buildings, mound style root cellar, big bell by the clothes line, where sister Holly lost her front teeth.

Front door facing the road was never used. Backdoor opening onto the sizable porch was the way in and out. Porch to kitchen. Kitchen was the majority of the house. The biggest room. I see a lot of familiar items as I walk in. The kitchen always smelled of warmth and coffee.

Turn right and the downstair bedroom is off the kitchen, where the folks and the youngest kids slept. It had once been my bedroom.

A hard right and a hallway with a big built-in linen closet, straight-on to the bathroom. Left into the sitting/ TV room. The front door has a chair in front of it. TV next to the chair.

Bedroom and sitting room windows faced north, Kitchen windows face south.

A door to the right, off the western end of the kitchen, opens to a tight staircase. Leads up to two small, unheated bedrooms.

Straight up and into the boys bedroom. Up and right and into the bigger, girls bedroom.

I don’t have a memory of the day Kennedy was shot. But…

November 25, 1963. I am in the sitting room with others of the family. The public/ State funeral taking place. It was a Monday. I see my family around. I cant really understand why everyone is around. I understand the death of JFK. I watched and admired his son. Little Jon Jon was cool to all kids my age. I was 6. He looked very cool walking all groomed and nice.

I think we were all home from school/ work for the occasion. I cant explain why others were around on a Monday. That Monday. Unless it was the Thanksgiving holidays?

I note the emotional distress on my father. He greatly admired JFK. I feel my mother being more of a comforting entity rather than being distraught. It was a big deal.

Another exercise I do is to remember Christmases and New Year eves. NY’s eve is usually party. Makes it easier for me to recall. Fourth of Julys’ are easy to bring up too. The fire works.

I like parties.

The further I go back the less words there are.

Where do the words begin? For a guy that remembers so much I really need to search for this…

It’ll take some time but I’ll find it. Most of it is in that little farm house. I’ll spend some more time there.

One more exercise I’ll share is I go through my school years. Go to you very first day of school. Explore that year. Explore it all. Then the next, and the next.

Some folks count sheep to sleep. I review my data base of memories.

I understand that some folks don’t like to go back, to honestly review their memories. I know that much of life is spent forgetting things. Hurtful, dark, sad things. Trying to forget is not productive. Endeavoring to remember, remember all, is very worth while.

More later

Smiles

Been ruminating lately on the changes that are afoot, and what the future, the next decade or so, may hold. The past decade has moved past us quickly. The past 20 years have been a phlash. Who recalls where they were January 1 2000? Who recalls what they were thinking about January 2021? 

Of course, life is what happens while we make other plans…

Over the last 20 years a lot has changed. But, this past 12 months has been huge. Am I wrong to say that the past 12months has promoted more change to our global society, more than the previous decade, or two? 

Let’s ponder the HUGE changes we have witnessed in the calendar year of 2020:

Travel of any kind has been irrevocably changed. 

No matter it be by road, by air, by sea… HUGE changes. No matter it be interstate, intertown, intercommunity, the idea of Domestic travel never to be the same. Hourly flights to major towns and cities might now be daily, if you are lucky. Trains, buses, taxis… all has changed, irrevocably. 

Totally forget international! travel, as we knew it… multiple flights a day between international destinations, packed immigration departure and arrival halls are empty, parking towers remain hollow, the associated service sector is bankrupt.

As a professional expatriate with three professed homes, in three separate countries… I feel a bit lost.  With big families in the Solomons and the US, I ponder a future of no-travel, remaining only and completely in The Land of Aus.

Good news and bad news… 

Aus is a great place “to be”. 

We are more than comfortable here, well entertained and exceedingly hapi.  I am an old fart and not all that fussed about staying in one place. Not galivanting around the planet is kinda ok. I like watching grass grow, Aus is a big place with a lot to see by road. And I own a bitch’n yacht. Aus is the perfect land for a bitch’n yacht. 

Bad news is sad news… The yacht is in the Solomons. Could be months and months before a window for moving it opens. 

Its hard to think-around the fact that travel to the Solomons, to visit, see family, interact with the first and foremost place my tribe call “HOME”… well, that’s kind hard. Quite hard. 

Same with the US… it’s a difficult pill to swallow, not traveling at all is hard but being isolated from family and familiarity, a hard pill to swallow.

But I am an old fart and I’m ok taking pills. 

Where would you rather be?

The grass is always greener!

I am an avid student of Science Fiction. There is little sci-fi I have not read, or been exposed to. 

Much sci-fi is based on a world in flux, a society in collapse, posing great “what-ifs”. 

Apocalyptic scenarios are popular in sci-fi.  Heroes and Villains abound, classical themes and romances, good vs evil, Homer and Shakespeare dressed as Robert Heinlein? 

Sci-Fi is real?

We’re living it today?

And I remain, find myself once again… A Stranger In A Strange Land…

And that’s OK with me. 

Smiles

It is a glorious morning here in QLD. Very cool out, 26c/ 79f. The sky is overcast. The scent of rain in the air. Fauna outside my door is noisy. The weather is conducive to being active.

The wildlife indoors, G.G., and Nova are all chirping and squawking like baby birds wanting a good feed. The teenaged hounds are still in their darkened room, sound asleep.

The school holidays have officially started so we have all school aged kids home for the next two months. I have decided to keep the stress down by demanding little from them all. Keep the house clean and stay on our projects outside (and at the farm) and we’ll all get along.

Two months can be a damned long time!

Funny bit of luck yesterday: One friend in the US and one here in Aus ended up on tangential discussion in regards the Chinese push in the pacific region. It’s a strange, neo-colonialistic situation where the Chinese have used cheque-book diplomacy to buy much of the pacific, and, strangely enough, a lot of Australia too.

Here is my discussion with my esteemed compadres…

… Your query per Australia and the Chinese Pacific…

I do not believe the Aussie’s will or can stop the trend you mention. A quick online search and you’ll see how much China owns here in Aus. Ports, airports, heaps of agriculture, etc, etc. Chinese students make up a huge portion of the offshore $ generated by the education sector. China buys massive amounts of Aussie raw-resources. To the point where Aus really does not manufacture or value-add much at all anymore.

Little or no refining of petroleum products, almost zero steel manufacturing, Aus has gone totally loony with “Carbon-Reduction” so they sell their high grade coal and iron ore to china and India and re-import the steel. The labour unions here are very strong and wages are way too high to be doing dirty work here, anymore.

So they sell their resources and buy-back finished product, and pay the general population not to work real hard, if at all.

The joke here among us emigrants is that to get work done, to find a decent service provider or tradesman, you need to find someone other than an Aussie. Plenty of South Africans and English and Irish and Germans and Kiwis who are keen to work. Not so many Aussies.

This is a decent discussion on Chinese ownership of assets in Australia: https://www.advanceaustralia.org.au/how_much_of_australia_china_owns

In my long term thinking, the Aussie’s sold the farm a long time ago. They may be “just waking up” to it all.

Recently there has been a lot of talk about a) the imbalance of trade between China and AUS, and b) the undo pressures China places on Aus.

It’s common for China to flex its muscles over even little matters. trade wars over beef and wine happening as we speak.

It’s common for leaders of business and politics to be sanctioned by China (mostly in obtaining visas) for speaking out against China. In past years said leaders would recant and beg forgiveness in order to receive the lollipop called a visa.

More recently the tide is turning.

The bit of news you refer to mainly deals with the State of Victoria. The Labour Leader, Dan Andrews, has been selling the farm at a furious pace. His draconian handling of the Kung Flu has made him very unpopular. There have been way too many bungled events, which there has been no accounting for. He is in bed if not being whored by the Chinese. I have not read up on the agreement he has with China but I am certain it ain’t in the long term favour of Aus, Victoria.

But then Gringos think in decades and the Orientals think in centuries.

Here’s a recent bit of waffle on the topic…. https://www.news.com.au/national/victoria/politics/daniel-andrews-defends-controversial-belt-and-road-deal-with-china/news-story/9937d52d237124bae97193d1ceb5c908

I personally do not think it takes much understanding to see, clearly see, what China’s patient plan is.

And with modern worlds like Aus and NZ the plan can work… Aus has only 25mil population. (NZ only 6 mil) Resource rich, but labour deficient. Not enough dirty hands to do the dirty work. So sell what you have… ???? Live off the proceeds as long as they last?

China has offered short term prosperity in exchange for short term benefits. But as (and we are close) the tooling, and smelting, and refining capacity here is dismantled, there comes a time where Aus prices itself out of the manufacturing game all together. Becoming a land where everything is imported and the only workers are involved either with service providing, extraction, transport or general construction.

Manufacturing of almost all flavours are basically gone already.

An interesting side topic…
Aus ordered a new submarine fleet quite some time ago… but the ban on being Nuke-powered was stupid, meant they had to retrofit a standard off the shelf nuke sub… and they had already dismantled- sold off – their capacity to build such, so had to go off shore. This has been on-going for at least 4 years and has no date for completion noting they have not started building anything yet.https://www.macrobusiness.com.au/2020/05/national-disgrace-submarine-debacle-blows-out-to-90-billion

Very sad, but an example of the cost of things once you sell your capacity to manufacture.

Smiles