Here's another manipulation by a newschannel desperate for viewers.

A young lady was travelling home from the city with 2 of her friends. Some...evil threw a brick off a bridge as the car passed under and it smashed through the back window and hit the girl on her head.

She now lies in an induced coma after doctors had to remove part of her skull. Shocking stuff and I'll come to that later.

The newschannel manipulation concerns the shot of the offending rock taken as it was from ground level to accentuate the size of the rock to the 'half brick' it was claimed to be. A head high shot revealed it to be more a quarter brick. Not the point I know, but nevertheless, I would like to judge things on actual sizes, not the exaggerated view of a biased TV station.

Just another example of how the truth takes a back seat to manipulation in order to attraact viewers.

MONEY - IT'S A CRIME

So say the mighty Floyd in their famous track from the equally famous and bordering on sublime, Dark Side of the Moon.
And for those of you who still doubt my assertion that the folding stuff does indeed make the world turn (at least the world of man), observe:-


Glenn Wheatley is a music promoter and sometime entrepeneur (his most famous client would be John Farnham, the (nationally at least) famous Australian singer. The fellow seems for all accounts like a decent sort of chap - if ANY successful business man can be entirely decent.
Well he's just been jailed for 15 months. For what? I hear you ask - well that most shameful of crimes, tax evasion (remember Al Capone?) Seems Glenny boy has neglected to hand over his hard-earned to the leeches at the Tax office and they've responded with wrath.

Patrick Power is the crown prosecutor for the government or some other such high esteemed position within government. He has also been jailed lately but for the much less 6 months (reduced from 1 year for some reason).
What did HE do? I also hear you ask.
Well, Mr Powers likes to look at little girls and boys apparently, judging by what was discovered on his personal computer by a technician while he worked on said computer.
30,000 images of children, some as young as three, being subjected to all manner of deviant sexual acts from the minds of the depraved. This man, while not a 'fully fledged' peadophile, is contributing to the perpetuation of this heinous act by virtue of his viewing such images. If no-one viewed, then no-one would have need to take pictures, ergo no children would be 'models'.
All the decent among us are now disgusted and we all of us must be thinking of jail in terms of many years - how could it be any less?
Well, the bench in all its wisdom (with a healthy dose of 'protecting one's own - also evidenced by the virtual who's who of the upper class coming out in support of their colleague), jailed him for just 6 months.

So we have 15 months for withholding comparative loose change (the tax office deals in billions); and 6 months for what amounts to paedophilia, which in case you've been living under a rock for...ever, involves the most shocking kind of pyhsical abuse on our most innocent lives, destroying them forever...

Yeah right - don't tell me money doesn't rule all! Do whatever you want to whomever - but for God's sake don't mess with government coffers.

Let me make this perfectly clear - it's considered more of a crime to defraud the government than it is to bugger babies! Are you getting this? Do you understand what I'm saying here? I'm staggered! This is...as repulsive as paedophilia itself!

Moreover, I'll get heat for my use of profanity and this will probably never be published in a 'proper' paper, but if I use such language it's in an attemtp to get you fuckin do'gooders to stop wringing your fuckin hands on the fuckin sideline and make the changes that are so desperately needed to protect the most innocent and vunerable and stop letting the dependence on money steer your every decision.

You people are no better than Powers!

Jesus wept!!

MUST'NT...love dogs, actually.

Least not in the Blue Mountains municipality, though I fear it's not just parochial.

The twist on the film title of that chick flick is a good place to start; haven't seen the film but I do Like John Cusack's acting in general and the fox who costarred with him made for a beautiful dream (but we're talkin Holywood here and that shit ne'er occurs). Though is there even a dog in the film?

Australians in general like to crow about how much they like pets but the facts are a little different. Pets are okay if they're restrained - if they're controlled. Never allow your dog to be off leash or you face a fine from the local Nazis (council) unless you choose to use the tiny amount of ground put aside away from people where you're allowed to let them off the lead. Except, eveyone uses these places and they have turned into what can best be described as 'outdoor toilets' - a place full of excrement where you have to watch where you put your feet for fear of stepping on such.

Well my boys deserve more - and they're going to get more. I have searched long and wide for a place away from the irritating public where I can let my boys run free at their own pace unencumbered by a Mutters on the other end of the leash. I had found a place which I called paradise - a veritable oasis in the outskirts of a town. Here, beside a lake where they could swim, could be found rabbits, foxes, birds and once, a hare that exploded out of the long grass and was 200 yards away before my normally quick moving boys even realised what it was. They never had a chance of catching it but Scoob, all credit to him (more specifically his tracking ability), followed the route the hare took to the very inch.

Anyway, I managed to get about a year of Sundays out of this place before some no mark told me I couldn't go there anymore - citing insurance. "What happens if you hurt yourself?" He asked. "You're not covered by insurance".
If I fall over my laces for example and smash my mouth into the ground it's because I'm an idiot and I neither want nor expect anyone to be responsible.

Anyway, I have since found somewhere else which though may not be "paradise", is adequate in that I can let my boys off lead for about an hour. However, this place is undergoing landscaping and I fear that it's being transformed into a wanky place for "families". Tch, how I detest that word. Families with their screaming brats making all sorts of noise and forcing me yet again to seek a new oasis.

Must love dogs? Yeah right!

MORE ABDUCTION

In a way shockingly similar to the abduction of Madeline, in Nigeria, a three year old girl this time has been kidnapped by, well, men with automatic weapons actually. As she was being driven to the airport, a group of seven men surrounded the vehicle firing the weapons in the air to deter any would-be heroes.

The driver also got stabbed during the snatch.

How, the kidnappers have offered to return the child in exchange for her father, a gas/oil executive, so they are clearly after a big payout.
What is more interesting, and somewhat relieving, is this fact for it means that the liitle girl is really not any any real danger - merely a pawn in a game of extortion.

What can the father do...? He has to go - has to, how could he not?

...AID

First therewas Band Aid - which actually was the concert to end all concerts - and spawned a plethora of cheap imitations.

Now there's Live Earth. The concert for a greener planet or some other such shit - which translates to a hoard of popstars feeling good about themselves as they baske in adoration and thanks that they give up their oh so valuable time.

All lead by the demigod of climate change, Al Gore. The eco-report on Sky news has even jumped aboard (though probably just as ingenously as what drives them is ratings - see, money - see, power).

I used to think television news was unbaised, presenting nothing but the facts. Seems I was wrong.

I have written about this climate change thing ad nauseum and am growing rather tired at being ignored (story of my life :)). The fact is - while we as a race continue to breed at the current rate (well above a sustainable level), the inbalance we facilitate will just get more and more out of control. And the cost of redressing such a balance will also grow - to the extent that it becomes prohibitive. It's at that point already as a matter of fact - a fact, as it happens of which Gore is fully aware.

These concerts...waste of time. And I'll not even mention the enormous carbon footprint they will leave.

Hey, I know, let's save the planet by singing!

Jesus!

MAYHEM

It has been windy in Sydney over the last few days. I don't like the wind...no, not at all - not since the 'ridgebeam' incident...

...the winds typically come in the month of August. With a ferocity, they scream across the valley with nothing to slow them before they slam into my house which sits atop a ridge.
I have built this house with my very own hands - and with no power tools. It has an enormous cathedral ceiling, all crafted from oregon timber, the rafters stained and varnished. It really does look very nice and I feel an amount of satisfaction.

Anyway, the ridgebeam incident occurred on one such windy night; the wind blew with a force that threatened to lift the house like Dorothy's from that much loved film, The Wizard of Oz. The very floor shifted under my feet an inch or so - it was an anxious time.

Ridge beam refers to the large beam of timber running the length of the roof and to which the tops of the rafters are fixed (usually nailed). Myself and an associate had struggled on ricketty ladder and hastily constructed platform (that swayed and trembled under the weight of man and beam), to hoist this 7 metre long, 150 by 75 mm beam into place. This in itself was so 'playing with fire' that if Workcover had have witnessed us using such inadequate safety gear, i.e. none, they would've locked us up for our own good. Step by step, I, with my end of the heavy beam on my shoulder mounted the steps of the ladder which bent and flexed under the weight also.
Anway, to cut a long one short, we were successful with the installation, and the beam was in place supported by four rafters (120 by 47mm - big lumps of timber).
Feeling secure that nothing short of a gale would even begin to shift the significant amount of nails, and with night time closing in, I retired to the living room.

To be followed shortly by the aforementioned gale. As I sat in the room, the veritable ground under my feet began to shake. The howl as the wind raced through the timbers was like something from your average horror movie. I sat and freaked out, trying my best to relax, (unsuccessfully I might add).
The gale hammered the building as it attempted to force it from its foundations and just when I had decided that my work was going to survive, there was a tremendous blast of a gust, follwed by a large bang.
I heard it, and I knew something disastrous had occurred, but as it was still blowing like hell, I figured there was nothing I could do til the wind abated and daylight prevailed. So I went to bed that night troubled - just knowing I was to awake to destruction.

And I was right!

What I feared had occured; the force of (God, some would maintain) had somehow separated the supporting rafters from the large beam - one end of which subsequently fell to earth like an enormous pendulum.
And everything it hit - it destroyed. The scene that faced me the next morning was one of mayhem. The two supporting rafters on the eastern side had shattered - and I mean shattered. One may assume the wind with its buffeting had loosened the nails and the beam under the force had slipped their grasp. No. What had happened and in an indication of the sheer power of the gale, was that the rafters - had snapped in half, four spears remained, the splintered wood testament to the awesome power of mother nature.
The brunt of the damage was taken by my bay window which was rammed apart from the main wall to which it was fixed. I had to use a threaded bar to realign the window the next day, after setting up once again, the test of mountain goat sureness of balance that constituted my shakey ladder was once again called upon.
Anyway, I replaced the fallen ridgebeam and to this day it sits in place with the entire roof now holding it there. The wind has blown since but the structure seems sound now.

No no - I don't like the wind!

SPEAKING OF 'BIG MUTHAS'

The USS Kittyhawk is in town; presently she's berthed at Garden island in Australia's Sydney harbour. And a truly amazing monster she is - all 40,000 tonnes of her.

But she brings with her a price for the residents of the city around her for a radius of a kilometre. Every vehicle in the vicinity has been lifted and unceremoniously 'dumped where we can find a space' according to one of the tow truck operators tasked with removal of the 'risks'.

Just like that! As a practice run for the APEC conference in...soon, don't know - don't really give a toss. The point is - I've spoken of it before, I think Nazi-like was mentioned, brownshirts maybe...?

To protect our glorious leaders from any threat from an irate terrorist, they are prepared to enforce their precautions with vigour at the sacrifice of more rights. A clearer example of us and them is not oft seen.



However, a sight to behold it is, this gargantuan in gun metal grey, fair bristling with armaments. Sitting on her decks, man's birds of war, benign in their stillness, yet carrying death and destruction.

(Note to Mavis: hey man, y'sure you can afford to have this away from the Gulf. Mavis is an associate of mine whose ultimate security lies in his beloved 'carrier group', which he claims should be sent in to blow the shit out of the towelheads. Mavis is a RAVING patriot).