There’s nothing like the lapping of waves around the foundations of one’s extensive waterfront property portfolio to encourage one to ponder one’s options. Thankfully I can offload the lot to some unsuspecting mugs thanks to ScoMo’s slashing of red tape and my gagging of the snoopy media. Fantastic. Great move. Well done!
This rising of sea waters was hilarious when it was just flooding the dusky types on Pacific islands; and I’m not easily amused. But who knew it would happen to me? So, climate emergency eh? I like that word emergency. It suggests an opportunity.
* * * * *
There can be little doubt that our taro-headed totalitarian Peter Spud-Dutton loves his job. Given his present day enthusiastic demonising and torment of desperate asylum seekers it seems perfectly plausible that pulling the wings off flies and tying fireworks to the tails of neighbourhood cats was an agreeable pastime for the youthful, callow tuber who now, as a ripe vegetable, has real people at his mercy. He’s upgraded his hobbies into a well-remunerated professional sadism where the perks include figuratively poking sharpened sticks through the gulag wire at the last remaining hopes of stranded and desperate refugees. Does he find the job satisfaction to be somewhat arousing? (Take 10 minutes to clear that image from your brain).
Underlying an absence of empathy, disdain for transparency, antipathy for decency and a negligible intellect there’s a malevolent ambition. His shiv to Malcolm Trembles’ Prime Ministerial ribs is unfinished business, awaiting the inevitable fuckups from FuaxMo; but at some point it should also occur to the gormless Spud that an opportunity will arise for him to expedite his aspirational authoritarianism – civil unrest.
Post-election buyer’s remorse will inevitably set in as this kakocracy’s cluelessness and callousness becomes too obvious to ignore. But a devastated food chain is on the horizon and disappointment will then be swamped by panic. Franking credits will not feed families.
The remnant climate change deniers will continue to deny as a groundswell of dissent builds to a point where it poses a tangible threat to the self-interests of the ruling claque. Spud can seize his moment; the risible rhizome’s ambition can be fulfilled.
“Men rise from one ambition to another: first, they seek to secure themselves against attack, and then they attack others.” (Niccolo Machiavelli).
Recall Spud’s 2015 deployment of dark-uniformed, armed goons onto the streets of Melbourne targeting brownish folk. The indignant uproar was immediate and effective but the sorry saga is a crystal clear insight into the belligerent mindset of a despot.
As marine ecosystems collapse, insect populations plummet and crops then fail, as water evaporates or is poisoned by profiteers and more extreme and more frequent climate events threaten the complacency and property values of even the most dedicated Tory boosters more and more people will then take to the streets. And Policeman Prat can weaponise his ambition.
Spud will be given licence as the panicked poltroons on the right ram through draconian legislation to protect their self interests, further curbing our right to know and to express an opinion. His focus will turn inwards, away from flotillas of climate refugees as he excises more and more of our freedoms. What’s left in our dams will fuel his water cannons, he’ll seek military deployment against civilians and he’ll decorate the halls of Parliament and the street lampposts with his image.
Stock up on canned goods and ammo.
Too hyperbolic? Too dystopian? You haven’t been paying attention. When you see Spud in a uniform it will be too late.
This article was originally published on geezerspot.com.
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