Warning – Truisms, delusions, flatulence and satire; not to be confused with news, fiction or entertainment, and this is not a joke.
“I’m the Prime Minister.”
… and I’m the President of Beeblebrox Prime – What a brainless Jurassic dodo Morrison is!
“Aged care is complex … Life is complex.”
“No I don’t agree with that, nor the premise of your question.”
“This is Australia.”
“If you have a go, you get a go.”
“If you want to do business here, you work according to our rules.” When in Rome huh
Whose rules? My aunt cockatoo – the ‘Rule of Law’ of course.
“Where the bloody hell are you?” – If only Morrison would make up his mind!
“I think I can speak for the people of Australia” – If you haven’t heard this one it is the arrogant pseudo-democratic subscript of rampant Ministerial Liberalism, the voice of entitlement and abuse of power.
“This is coal. Don’t be afraid! Don’t be scared! It won’t hurt you.”
Life isn’t as simple as Morrison makes out, but simplicity, ‘people-games’ and ridicule are his bread and butter, as obfuscation, deceit and lies his cue. Rule by lawfulness, statue, common law, case law, due process, natural justice, balance of probability, fair go where punishment or consequence fits the crime or is it much simpler than this – A Morrison interpretation and decree, absolute?
As the fossil record also tells us, survival isn’t always brighter – Here on earth in the Anthropocene it just gets dumber and dumber as we buckle down into the oblivion of banal arrogance, truisms, slogans, assumptions, generalisations, rationalisations and rebuffs; the gobsmacking repetition of Liberal media grabs, lies and dogma, when there is no substance left to spew from the Prime Minister’s heaving ‘mad cow’ disease gutless Mesozoic mouth, other than endless COVID-19 announcements and economy boasters for the light headed, those with short concentration spans, poor memories, recall, disbelief or general ignorance; before diversity of thought, living and human civilisation crashes (Take a breath).
Diversity and originality diminish and the toxic soup gets thicker and slimier as it engorges itself on the powerless overwhelmed suffocating discourse of public life. Opposition becomes futile and toothless, like a muffled voice in the wilderness as Morrison and News Corp press on with their rape, pillage and plunder of the moral, political, social, cultural, economic, and indeed personal landscape. Then we crash just like the Romans did, as have many others through history.
Here we are sitting on the great galactic rim of Morrison’s lips and cognitive insensibilities, where the next slogan pours out the vast desert of his backside like a dark solar prominence on (a)steroids in hyperspace, another magical leap of faith from a dying star in the Delta Quadrant. Like the endless self-righteous entitled groans, pestilence and murmurings of an entombed Egyptian mummy waiting to wow us with the natural wonders of revenge and the hidden talents of flea swarming goggle-eyed gumless beaming age cured cloak of the Scotty and Murdoch duo. Oh sorry, did I forget a few truculent cabinet ministers, sycophants and alleged sex abusers.
Betelgeuse is burning here on earth as Scotty plans his next holiday in downtown Hawaii Centauri sniffing in Trump’s lately dumped golden shit infested knickers. Yes, we have to put up with his daily poop and ‘tribal’ ramblings on the ABC who seem to think news, weather, business and ‘Rule of Law’ is about giving Morrison and his gutless wonders free to air publicity, broadcasting his mind-numbing truths and meaningless, thankless announcements ad nauseum. Nothing else to watch, the corporate channels, Seven, Nine and Ten (Christ, it’s all numeric labels and breakfast commandments) don’t make any sense in the real world as they prattle on from their virtual worlds and ivory towers, throwing out more slime and populist garbage than a Russian Mafia boss in between a mountain of dumb arse paid for advertising and programming, guaranteed to blow up your mind on knickerbocker glories, unreal life insurance and breathless testicle cupped macho underpants masquerading as boneless bras. Did anyone say KFC? That wasn’t me.
Back here on earth, in the land of Oz we once believed in something. It wasn’t a dream and there was no Dorothy or yellow brick road.
A democratic government in a civil society that would never say ‘never’ gag its press, when faced with mindless questions from a goggle-eyed bleeding press gallery. The reporter just doing her job called by the Immigration Minister a “mad fucking witch” as the microphone crackles to the background funnel-web cackle and natter of distant galaxies in ‘Question Time’ (okay that was an old one). A young woman who is allegedly raped in the Defence Minister’s office called a “lying cow” (note: fucking was dropped but not the gender) as ‘she and her partner are run out of town’ – that alien bitch of a parasitic institutional bubble we once called the Australian Parliament, walls riddled with vocational Liberal National slime and free speech dripping from the corridors and walls of ridicule, abuse and power. Morrison calls this democracy, which he seems to confuse also with free speech, representation, truth, facts, national security, law and leadership if not a host of other things which are belted like farts into a shitting bowl, a lethal and toxic mix, not to mention smelly!
The Prime Minister quick with faecal rhetoric calls the AFP and NSW police to order, like men in black neuralysing the minds of ABC viewers and the general public with nothing to see here, as if we weren’t already stupefied by the gormless babble and poisonous religious breath and sales pitch of the serpent’s tongue – Yes, you Morrison and, ‘we’ (where the shoe fits) your mummified tomb raiders, conspirators, dreamless pumpkin pen pushers and consumerised zombies of the Austral-American Liberal-Republican inter-continental clueless Kluxy clan.
Increasingly mesmerized, deluded and despotic just like Trump, the Prime Minister with his cabinet of knuckle-headed abusers and invocations of bogus conception have made us a laughing-stock ‘kiss and cuddle USA’ worldwide, not just in China. Whatever abuse of human rights overseas, we are called out as hypocrites and liars as we gringel and gobble at our own anal meanderings, gazing into our subcultural empty souls, indigenous and colonial toxic lethal rags or get caught with our pants down providing military arms and aide to criminal juntas, abusers and traffickers of human suffering. We find ourselves on the other side of everything we once stood for, or at least some of us did.
It runs deeper than the devil or a bag of serpents in Daniel’s den, and our Parliament is the devil’s den, where once the lion raged and feasted off the remains of elders, staffers, public servants, women, migrants, refugees, jobless, cashless, bludgers, pensioners, the old, the young, the toothless fairies, the unbelievers, convicts transported to the colony for stealing a loaf of bread (I’m sure I’ve missed a few). Did I say or imply ‘once did?’ Ah yes, little has changed in 250 years of colonisation, federation, ‘liberal democracy’ where the greedy club of present-day lions feed in fewer numbers on the unrecognisable culture and carcass of Australian life, but the economy is booming as we bleed profusely into the surrounding Great Barrier Reef, Pacific, Indian and Antarctic oceans – looking so pale and rickety.
“I’m the Prime Minister?” of this great vast land, this wilderness, this burning wasteland that Scotty is selling to the lowest bidders and gangs in town; our Public Service already thoroughly fucked over (so who are you going to call apart from some government funded help line, if you make it through the night on call waiting – That’s also what you get with Telstra and NBN, two other notable behemoths, legacy of our wacko Liberal-National zealot privatisation program).
… and we are the Borg, resistance is futile.
This Neolithic narcotic serpent Morrison leads us down the psychotic delusional path and Pythonesque parody ‘life of Brian’; not of fictional or divine comedy you’ll understand, but false prophet, myth and tragedy. Tragedy for Australia and all who sail in her bushfire, solar bleached, coal dusted, bronchitic, government raped womb of a giant burning wreck, half way between the starry flagged shores of the South China Sea and ravaged prehistoric Trump infested Mississippi swamps of Gondwanaland.
Australia is indeed a beautiful country, but Morrison’s gang from out of town are picking off all the flowers, raping and pillaging our country, laughing in our faces on national television and social media like big fat balls of slime. Rule of Law, democracy, fair go – long gone according to the book of revelation and the silent annals of our sublime constitution; all that’s left is the ridiculous.
The serpent has landed and he fully intends to stay unless another little spoilt and rotten spud, half as grotesque again, grows wings and repeatedly neuralyses us with national security legislation or we are serendipitously invaded by centaurean pigs from outer space. Whichever way these Liberals fall or land, they are sure to have inoculated themselves against this current self-inflicted bubonic plague and live off the fat of their ill-gotten wealth, investments, capital and government super they have bequeathed themselves in their promised land, behind giant walls of steel or somewhere far away, gloating, farting and salivating safe offshore. But it won’t be another planet, we only have this one.
Courtesy of President of Beeblebrox Prime, a Borg Cube somewhere in the Delta Quadrant sipping coal-digger pineapple Neros, donkey-faced cocktails; and all very ugly because there is nowhere else in the galaxy to go that we haven’t already fucked up and assimilated, 9 March 2021.
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