It won’t be long before Australia has one of the most important federal elections of its times. This next election will determine if the nation thrives or totally collapses into a miasma of hate, cruelty and economic and social degradation. Seriously, it is that important.
The problem we must face is that if Labor does win the election, will it be able to restore all those now-destroyed safety-net systems and authorities that held our society together, or will it even want to restore some of the more political intrusive authorities of governmental oversight that were conveniently removed by a criminal-mentality LNP government?
It has to be admitted even by some of the most obtuse and biased commentators we are all familiar with that both parties now cosy-up for warmth to middle-class ideology in border security, law-breaking punishments and economic manipulations … plus quite a few other of those petty personal insecurities that plague the middle-classes in the early hours of the morning, like; “Oh! … Did I get those tax receipts for my investment properties off to the accountant yesterday?” Little things like that … ”Have I run out of under-arm deodorant?” … worry, worry, worry …
What we of the peon-classes, who seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in just producing things rather than profiteering from them will need, is to see created by our demand, with any new governance … some in-situ authorities that consult us and our representative unions on the need to assess and implement those large industries that encourage mass employment, mass apprenticeship training for the future, secure and permanent job prospects for the peon-class to support a family in dignity over the long-term and to re-instate those essential public utilities that keep the cost of overheads down so that every working household can save for those unexpected costs like annual holidays with the family by the sea … that … is unlike the middle-class politicians … they cannot bill against the State as “travel expenses”.
Alongside those reclaimed public properties, will be many Royal Commissions that will be necessary to get to the bottom of all those LNP/Media/fellow business travellers swindles and criminal activity, plus, perhaps, the odd case of treason against the State and the people and those crimes against humanity … little oversights that can slip under the radar of human decency in any LNP government. Then there is the ICAC investigations that will keep a legion of jurists flat out getting RSI injuries just from the ticking of guilty boxes and also the need to open a completely isolated branch of Social Security staffed with psychiatric tag-teams to deal with those now poor, poor middle-class political folk who are finding the “falling from grace” criminality convictions depriving them from a once toothy-jocular café-latte sipping coterie to a now unemployable “dole-bludger” class just too, too difficult to face.
Frankly, I just don’t know how they are going to manage it!
I have spent years and reams of ‘E’ paper writing of the need to transfer the “perceived right” of that one deluded class to govern and administer the nation to hand over to the correct and capable producing class … but I have grave doubts if this will happen in just one term of governance … I suspect I will be kept at the keyboard for a few more summers yet correcting the translations of ruling-class buffoonery that has claimed idiocy as its sage, stupidity as its guide and the God “Boor-Ing” as its muse and wit.
Strange, now when I reflect on it … that as a young man I was mistakenly enthralled at the rich, idle chatter and the casual dropping of lines of poetry for succinct if abstract explanation of a moment’s required response by a class of tertiary educated punctilious poltroons whose company I kept in the days of mud-brick houses and “hand-woven cloth” scarves and ill-fitting jumpers … The sort of voluptuous conversation I could not join in with due to that lack of further education and a limited vocabulary … (having left high-school to start in full-time employment at age fourteen) … a seemingly easy-spoken, loquacious fruit of delight from those middle-class hippies that I envied not having …
I even remember one sultry Summer’s evening, a group of them gathered around a small, crackling fire made from the off-cuts of a post-‘n’-beam frame I was building for one of the group’s “muddys” … and these high-educated dilletantes were taking turns in memory quoting stretches of poetry … one by one they sang the lines of some well-known verse … Banjo, Lawson, Slessor, Adam Lindsay-Gordon etc … till it came to my turn … I didn’t know shit! … except one little thing and I apologised and said:
“I only remember one short poem from my youth, and that is from a Donald Duck comic:
“Twinkle twinkle, little starfish … How I wonder what you are fish.”
My effort was not met with any serious consideration nor mirth … and unfortunately, the one lady there that I would have liked to gotten to know in a more “familiar way”, now did not want to know me at all! … But they are like that, the middle-classes … if they cant use it, abuse it or make a pet of it, they discard it.
Their way of life, actually!
Funny though, when you think on it … there they were … these troubled oracles of taught wisdom, full to the gills of quotations rote-learned at the feet of their tutors and all marked and passed with heavens knows what degrees on the strength of it … and there I was doing all the hard yards building their houses … and not knowing a worthy line of elocution nor poetry … and now … here am I, writing reams of stories and poems myself! And heaven knows how much wasted knowledge I place on these blogs, learned at the feet of working-life experience and god only knows where they have all gone to … I have never seen one of their names on Twitter or on blog sites … perhaps they are now all doing courses in “building practice and theory” and finally doing something useful … But in reality, most probably ensconced in some “leafy suburb” filing their tax receipts on investment properties to send to their accountant.
But hey! That’s how it goes.
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