Posts Tagged ‘boats’

Where Is Tony Now? A Guide To Ostracism

September 16, 2015

We dismantle Tony’s empire this week.

We unsmuggle the budgies, pull the motor cord that starts the boats, bury the axe he took to the tax. Mount Doom is bursting apart and two MPs in suits lay on the dead rock of the mountainside, lava cascading all around them. In their direction, eagles come to swoop them away from the wreck they’ve brought to Team Australia. Thee eagles pass a helicopter going the opposite way, fleeing with a woman who wears pearls and claims this ride on the dole. One suited MP on the rocks whispers, “It’s over. It’s finally over. I’m glad to be here with you, Julie Bishop, at the end of all things.”

Smoke rises from the mountain of doom. The hour grows late and a new leader takes his throne of coal.

It’s been eight months since they set out in disguise to topple Tone. The New PM, Turnbull, jabbed some subtle barbs at Tony during the February leadership spill including a “captain’s call” comment. Anyone could see that before the February motion which Tony survived, #it was #on.

Silence and discontent, more and more news polls which showed everyone was unhappy with the government, until last Monday’s challenge. The #ItsOn tag dominated Twitter.

Now Malcolm is victor and the mutiny is complete. What’s next for Tone? Is he hiding in the ceiling of the PM’s house, rolling around in a field of his beloved coal, being boiled alive by South Pacific island chiefs? Is he fishing in a cave, walking on his hands and feet?

No, we have revived an ancient tradition.

In Athens, the voters would have regular elections. They wrote their vote on ostraka, pieces of broken pottery which were so common that people used them as scrap paper. If the winner of this election had more than 6,000 votes, they’d be exiled from Athens for ten years. Ostracised.

I can name 6,000 people in my neighbourhood who have been voting this way in their sentiments, prayers and those hideous renewable energy sources we’ve started buying since we don’t really have an ozone layer anymore.

So where did Tony go first, after we launched him into the Pacific Ocean with nothing but his wits and speedos?

First he found the body of Peter Dutton floating by, water lapping at his shoes. Tony used it as a raft, but NOT A BOAT. It’s a raft, okay?

He paddled to his nearest friend, New Zealand. The Kiwi People treated him to hospitality and bid him watch their athletic games. Then he learned that 79% of their energy is renewable. Tony vomited up his edible plate and would not eat their food, or drink their water tainted by renewable hydroelectric damming. He survived on the body of Peter Dutton and rectally ingested his iron heart.

He spent a long time lost among the islands of the South Pacific, floating often on infinite fields of water. Soon the local sirens sung him down to the sunken islands of Kiribati, where they kept him and cared for him well. Tony soon remembered he had to get back to his wife.

He used his triathlon skills to find the nearest island. It was enormous. Tony climbed a palm tree to look out over the land. Never had he seen land so fertile and ever-reaching. When his elite English tutors taught him that Australia was the largest island, they must’ve been lying.

It was the bloated political body of Joe Hockey. That wasn’t a palm tree, it was a cigar.

He swam until he found a real island. On the way, he encountered three boats. Each one asked the same: What news in Australia? There is word of mutiny. Tony told them, The country is lost to the greenies! Turn around! Turn around your boats, lest you be treated like people seeking asylum and not concentration camp inmates! Turn around!

All ignored him. They were doomed.

At the island, a thick throng of native men greeted him holding worker’s tools. They showed him hospitality much like New Zealanders. He asked who they were, if they recognised him. The natives pointed to him. “Man.” Then themselves. “Us.”

He was one of them. Tony wore the local clothes, a polo shirt and shorts with thongs, the attire of the peasants whose dole money he once spent. He drank their kava and they chanted, “Man! Us! Man! Us!”

He asked again where he was and an old man parted the crowd, a beard reaching to his knees. Tony asked again, Where am I?

The man looked him up and down. “You are Uncle Tone. You have been here before.”

He looked around. The crowd was still chanting. The old man pointed.

“This is the man who kept the camps open! This is the one who visited us last week! He was the man who laughed.

Man. Us. Manus. Manus Island. Papua New Guinea.

They ate Tone and rectally ingested his heart, a piece of coal whose size Santa would admire.

Tone’s house filled with greenies, who competed to be the man of it. Tone’s pet Credlin grew old and died on an unmaintained pile of kale. The day they ate Tone, wind turbines sprouted all over the country. The ozone hole he adored and cared for closed its burning eye forever.

The Eye of Climate Change Denial.

The Eye of Climate Change Denial.

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House of Border Guards

June 15, 2015

Happy birthday!

It’s 800 years since the Magna Carta was born. A few grumbling barons pulled the equally grumbling king to a grassy patch of Runnymede, which is the closest a town name has ever come to being a drinking song. The Magna Carta (Great Charter, or literally Big Paper) declared that everyone in society was a servant of the law. Even the king. It was 1215 and the world was a little colder.

To understand King John's mood, imagine this conversation.

To understand King John’s mood, imagine this conversation.
“Sign here. Great. Here’s your phone. You’re now an Apple user.”
“What have I done?”

It’s 2015 now. It’s becoming fast apparent that Australia’s ruling party paid people smugglers to send away at least one boatload of asylum seekers. This crime carries up to 20 years in prison, since people smuggling is the oil that keeps slavery running.

Here’s my prediction:

More evidence will appear. There will be no arrests.

Why no arrests? Because to arrest a Member of Parliament, the Attorney General must approve. That man is George Brandis, whose most famous fights in office have involved stopping asylum seekers from entering UN Refugee Charter Nation Australia, plus loosening Racial Discrimination laws. His reasoning? Not that people need protection from State censorship, or the ability to debate and strengthen ideas (the reasons why freedom of speech exists), but that we “have a right to be bigots.”

The Attorney General’s office is designed to take a lawyer and pull them out of their political career for a while, so they can take care of the High Court and defend the government if need be. They’re meant to be impartial and keep the court independent, aloof, unbiased.

When the office came to Australia a century ago, much like the convicts and settlers, it changed. Now the Attorney General is a senior member of Cabinet, who slugs it out in the political arena and is expected to keep the court biased. All for the Party. If someone wants to give the government legal trouble, they come through Big Bad Brandis first.

Oh – since 1903, the Attorney General has been allowed to intervene in court cases. If you put a human trafficker in a court, then lower Brandis down from the ceiling, he will legally be a deus ex machina. He becomes judge and god.

On the third day of legal proceedings, Attorney General Brandis abrogated the case against the Prime Minister. He then removed all brown looking people from the courtroom and he saw that it was good.

On the third day of legal proceedings, Attorney General Brandis abrogated the litigation. Records show he then removed all brown looking people from the courtroom and he saw that it was good.

So why will there be more evidence?

Because the leaks come in organised bursts, each one just in time for a fresh news day. There is motive. The Prime Minister is one of the most unpopular ever, several people around him want his seat. People who worked for the refugee camps are lining up to report every kind of abuse which humans can use to attack each other. There’s a focus on child victims.

So if someone is betraying Tony Abbott, who is it?

The most likely candidate to succeed the PM would be Malcolm Turnbull, who likes to dig in his barbs when things look especially bad for PM Abbott. Around the same time, he does a capital job of selling himself to the public. To get around the many far right elements of his party who disagree with his liberalism, Turnbull has to be shrewd. Still, his leadership is a matter of time. In 2009, when Abbott was far more popular, he took the leadership from Turnbull by one vote.

Then there’s Foreign Affairs Minister Julie Bishop. She’s been loyal, totally loyal, but only pragmatically. In the February leadership spill, she backed down only when it became apparent that the PM had a good chance of leaving at least one greasy paw on his chair. She gambled and thrived.

Fun fact: Before politics, Julie Bishop was a WA solicitorĀ for asbestos user CSR. She drew out the court case so that the victims would die and the companies would owe their grieving families less money. Lawyer Peter Gordon reported that she asked why victims “should be legally entitled to jump court queues just because they were dying.”

It could be someone lower in the Party who wants more power in the reshuffle that follows. Perhaps it’s a well connected someone or ones from a rival party. It’s possible that Tony Abbott is an idiot savant who was made for pandering to people’s ignorance, but is clumsy with hiding evidence. Perhaps he’s not psychopathic enough to make sure the traffickers and refugees who witnessed the payment were silenced, or he’s sociopathic enough not to think of it.

Pictured: Not Tony Abbott.

Pictured: Not Tony Abbott.

There’s a phenomenon called the Cobra Effect. In the British Raj, there was a plague of cobras. The British gave a cash reward to anyone who killed the snakes. They weren’t used to the clever Asian traders. People hacked the system and began to breed cobras and make a snake-killing. When the British discovered this, they scrapped the reward. Those snake peddlers had no use for their stock anymore. They released the cobras into the wild and the population increased.

Paying people smugglers to skip the dangerous action of offloading their human cargo is a Cobra Effect.

Meanwhile, watch this story. There’s more to come.