I have been alive for a bit over 62 years and a lot has happened in that time. Other than the ridiculous adage of old people bragging about drinking out of the garden hose when they were kids and riding their bikes with the only rule was to be home before it was dark…..????
The world has changed more in the way we are able to understand it than what we can see and do in it.
I read, like in real books, some written hundreds of years, and often centuries ago. I see all the stuff on social media and have friends who not only believe in all the conspiracies but want me to believe as well.
To name just a few of these great conspiracy theories:
The Moon landing (and the hollow Moon theory)
The Rothchilds.
The Great Pyramid
Atlantis
9/11
Antartica
The flat earth
Ancient civilisations and lost technology
Aliens
Every secret society you can think of
The funny thing about conspiracy theories is that some turn out to be true! A nice little list of conspiracy theories that turned out to be true are in a list on another site with an explanation for each – click here.
I think, dare I say ponder, what if a lot, or even some of the current conspiracy theories are true?
Plus, don’t even mention the price of oil per barrel and the price at the pump…. or the ones that decide how we live. The true global and tyrannical conspiracies that rule our lives and control our minds….. are TRUE. I so hope they are true.
If they are, it means we can do something about them.
The really scary thing is, if they are not true; the alternative is horrifying….
It means:
Our leaders, our Presidents, our Prime Ministers, our Politicians, our Government Departments and all our leading institutions….. are complete morons…..
I hope there are conspiracies to set up a new world order and we are controlled by lizard people who are conducting an experiment on our flat earth from the hollow moon.
For if they are not: we are doing this to ourselves: sorry, we are letting this be done to us, voluntarily without any form of mind control other than advertisements and the fear and hope sold to us by politicians who we all must remember didn’t get their jobs on merit but by winning a popularity contest.
There is no certainty other than ‘I think therefore I am’……
Except….. what if I am a computer program living in the matrix confined by the algorithm that tells me ‘I think therefore I am’ which falsely tells me of my existence, unfortunately in a world that does not exist except in a string of ones and zeros.
So, if you are sitting at home or somewhere else, reading this on your electronic device (smart phone, computer or tablet), I ask you this question……
Doing my evening thing and watching the TV in the background as I try to write something profound. I am always about to go inside, after The Chase, the first half of the News and an episode of American Pickers, when a movie comes on that I’ve seen a thousand times…. but, can’t help but watch it one more time: tonight it was ROBO-COP.
I initially thought it was the original ‘old classic’ with the great line “Dead or alive you’re coming with me….” then I realised it was a modern remake; so, even a better reason to stay up and watch it, in the shed, with a beer.
….. and, I smiled…. and, as the movie started, I thought, wrote and felt the words below:
“I thought of an old mate from the Police, Bill. We walked the beat in the 1980’s, we were in the Police Pistol Club together and each year would go away to the Australian Police and Services National Pistol Titles…. we had a fine time!? He was eventually poached from the Police back into the Airforce where he began his career of service. We all laughed as he was an officer and mostly as young coppers we didn’t have much to do with the officers other than to get yelled at. We kept in touch, as you try to do and had a few catch ups over the years and pretended it was the 1980’s again; Bill could always make us laugh and mostly when he dumped a 318 Valiant motor in a Jaguar!
We laughed a lot at Robo-Cop when it came out; and in fact all the great, now terrible movies of the 80’s, which we stole lines from and used them at work, not unlike the Brooklyn 99 classic comebacks and sayings.
I smiled when the new Robo-Cop came on, I smiled with all the above memories and got a beer from the fridge.
For a moment, I thought of calling Bill and wondered if like me, his mobile number had not changed for 20 years.
Then, in that same instance, as those who know, will know; I remember he died a few years ago from cancer.
So, I stood up, and I wrote his name on my fridge in the shed, with the other names, under the title “Say their names often”…..
Well here goes…. ….. and this is a long read….. sorry!
I haven’t had my second vaccination yet (I will not use the advertising slogan “The Jab” although I did use it in the heading of this post – hypocrisy is still one of my strong points?), however I am all booking in later this month and will be getting it.
…. someone said to me the other day, all that is happening in the world today seems a bit like a bad plot in a B Grade science fiction movie… ?
As I said in Part 1, I love movies; I also love reality TV; well not in its entirety, okay not at all, I just love ‘Survivor’. But, truely can Reality TV be anything other than real; real people put in real made up situations trying to be real? I blame the Kardashians and Paris Hilton who are real famous for being, well, real famous. And, then there is living in the real world….
In the real world, the weird real world of today, I have spent a lot of time thinking about stuff. I think about stuff I know, and then there is the stuff that I think I know; and what I see. Then I try and put this all in the perspective of my years of deducing conclusions that fit all the facts.
I tell young Detectives do all you can to try and prove the ‘offender’ innocent and when you can’t, well logically, they did it….
So, in my ‘analysis of The Jab’ I first had to get rid of some of the ‘innocent’ or unprovable theories.
… bearing this in mind, I told a ‘flat earther’ friend of mine the other day that I don’t believe the world is flat as there is more evidence that it is a sphere floating in space and a force we can’t explain called gravity keeps us all from falling off (that sounds just as silly when you write it down); But, I listened to them as their arguments were interesting. I did finish our conversation by saying, if a giant spaceship landed tomorrow and the occupants of that ship came out and said ‘Oh, by the way, you have been living on a flat earth under a big dome’ I’d walk out to the fridge in the shed, get a beer, have a sit down and say ‘fair enough’ – this doesn’t seem probable, but….?
So back to my ‘innocent’ and unprovable theories, they all seem to be flawed on two grounds.
Firstly they seem statistically unlikely, and secondly they do not have a logical purpose behind them.
Before I go on (and I believe me I am going on….!) I am going to do my best to not say ‘your should or you shouldn’t’. Religion is so full of people starting sentences with ‘you should’ and/or ‘you shouldn’t and that when for me it is not talk to the hand it is talk to the back of my head as I am walking away. So, I will do my best not to do this to you. Always remember that when religion is working for the rich, it’s fine; but, not for the poor. See, I’m not the only one with a monopoly on hypocrisy.
Back to the Detectives ‘investigationing’ (a great non-word) I started by just letting all the ‘facts’ be a mist of genuine ‘unknownness’. In the end, after asking a few very basic questions of myself, the answer seemed really simple, not sinister, just really, really sad.
I considered two main questions below which led me to the answer (and it is not 42! – that was the question remember!)
Question 1 – The Media
What of the Media (the Merchants of Misery). As said before it is probably the first time they have so obviously been in support of the Government and any of their plans. I also relates to the fact that their job has become easier; we can’t attack them for manipulation because we are all victims who prove so easily and eager to step into the experience they provide; fake, proven or otherwise it is the spectacle, the modern arena for us the slave gladiators willingly taking part; and we are sold the myth that we think we are just sitting in the stands.
Question 2 – The big Question: Why?
Well, it depends on how you are looking at this pandemic; as this view will make the question very simple or very complicated. The greatest question which answers itself about all conspiracy theories in that for most of them to be true, the extent of the conspiracy would have to be so big, what could I do about it anyway… another time to walk to the fridge get a beer, sit down and say ‘fair enough I didn’t expect that?’.
We mostly live in a democratic world, but that doesn’t really matter. Even in a democracy we really can do whatever we wish so long as we do what ‘they’ (the infamous ‘they’!) tell us to do. Remember all our ‘rulers’ democratic or not rely on our consent to rule.
Controlling the consent of ‘robots’ is easy when we have a futile fear of everything and are focused on the superficial joys of consuming, immediate gratification and the Kardashians.
The question as to ‘why’ is simple. Does it help the rich or does it help the general population? From this question you know the ‘why’ straight away and virtually what’s going to happen next.
Well, surprise we are now allowed to have freedoms that we started off with before and thought nothing of. Perhaps we are being giving something called the ‘Privilege of Greatness’ were the ‘powers to be’ rely on the supreme pleasure and gratefulness of the population on receiving small concessions so as the bigger issues are forgotten in the celebration and joy of the insubstantial gift. Viva La ‘Freedom Day’!
…. And through this smokey, misty, fact finding and intuitional detection process, it dawn on me…
The vaccines are probably safe(ish) as much as polio, rubella etc etc were/are safe in their interestingly statistically verified safeness. A sad statistic is that vaccines, even the bad ones have never hurt or killed more people than the countries that have been torn apart, the generations of hurt, guilt, regret, pain and death, that resulted from our smallest wars. So, many wars, our World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf Wars, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan; ….. the war on drugs ….. the war on terror ….. the war on traffic fatalities ….. the war on corruption ….. the war on COVID19
Fun Fact: COVID19 is the disease caused by the SARS-CoV-2 virus strain just like AIDS in the disease caused by the HIV Virus. Go figure this silly medical stuff?
After all, our emergency services and defence services personnel are always on the front line of these ‘wars’. It is never the generals, it’s the civilians who authorise and organise these wars who ultimately commit the worst war crimes in history.
All that has happened in this ‘Why’, has ‘political support’. Political support is a wonderful phrase as it almost always means the Governments bipartisan support from the rich and big business. Climate change for example (I think that’s a ‘war’ too) is now big business, so everything is being ‘green washed’ because that’s where the money is.
However, this is just the pilot in a really great apocalypse movie (although low on budget and special effects.
All good apocalypse movies have a sequel in the making when released. If ‘Rick’ can go from trying to steal a mates girlfriend (Love Actually) to being the reason we all hope the Zombie kill him (The Walking Dead), then anything is possible in the sequal.
I believe the why and the solution is not revolution but evolution; I can hardly wait for ‘The Jab Part 3’!!!
Really – this guy is only 0.69 !!!!
(I had actually finished the draft of this post and thought leaving it on the above ‘cliff hanger’ was like watching ‘Highway Patrol’ when the blood alcohol metre is spinning in the corner and then they go for a commercial break – then I realise how much I hated that so I can’t do it to anyone else….)
I finished my draft on the evening of the 12/11/21…. and upon realising the date was a palindrome like ‘race car’ and hannah’ and ‘glenelg’ and my favourite and applicable to this post:
“no sir panic is a basic in prison”
The words of Plato filled my head: “All in all, nothing human is worth taking very seriously, nevertheless…..”
I recommend before the sequel to keep the status quo by:
keep consuming
pay your fines and surrender you right of having ‘your day in court’ – even to just say sorry or give a good reason or to ask for a bit of leniency
watch cats on vacuum cleaners and the Kardashians and their clones
buy on line and never price compare unless it is online
watch the Media (the Merchants of Misery) even though you don’t believe them…. much.
and most of all, be afraid; in the most prosperous, safest, longest life expectancy and peaceful time in human history, ever; you just remain afraid
Remember the above strategies have ‘political support’ which is best statistically summarised by this wonderful survey in the US, which had 98% of the population supporting universal health care – this was not considered ‘political support’ so universal health care was abandoned by government – well they had to, there was no support?. Remember, we are most in danger when we have jumped out of the way of a speeding car, willingly or not, of most likely being run over by another car.
So, we will fight ‘the war on COVID19’ for as a government and us as the willing mob we all live for the sake of combatting an enemy, therefore as that is our purpose, it is in the best interests of everyone to keep the enemy alive to fulfil our purpose.
So, what, best interest?
Best interest is big business, the super rich and the implementation of the ‘three laws of robotics’ as designed by the science fiction writer Issac Asimov (by the way old Issac just came up with three robot laws and a few good books, whereas another science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard came up with an entire religion!):
First Law: A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
Second Law: A robot must obey orders given it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.
Now the Why is revealed.
We have become customers for life, obeying the three laws as all good robots do.
Not truely sinister, but COVID19 (forgot all the conspiracies) has provided the opportunity for the greatest marketing, sales and future binding contracted arrangements with consumers. We, the 80-90% of the population, are now consumers of our COVID19 vaccinations, and boosters for life. We should be proud that we are part of the greatest demonstration of consumer led capitalism in the history of man, ever!
Protests in the streets, even with the best of intentions of the ‘choice argument’ will fail…. Long rambling blogs will fail……. Litigation will fail…….
I, along with 80-90% of the rest of the world have sealed deal and signed the ‘customer for life contract’.
…. and then I thought I had written enough…. and had a sleep and made the mistake of watching the News and not just publishing this post…..
13/11/21 (no palindrome – that day is gone…)
They say a week in politics or the news cycle is a long time. Well, I should have published/posted this the morning and then I wouldn’t have watched the news tonight!?
Countries with similar (or better) vaccination rates to us are going back into locked down – when the Netherlands do something like this I pay attention – they seem like reasonable people and secretly own half the world.
I hit myself in the face in front of the mirror ‘Fight Club’ style, as I again fell for the trap of attempting to use logic to solve and illogical problem.
I remembered even ‘customers for life’ need to be entertained to keep that ‘brand loyalty’…. always waiting for the new and improved models, which will have great new versions and the ever expectation and excitement of impending war.
I don’t want to be a Zombie…. I don’t want to be a conspiracy theorist….
I don’t, didn’t, want the jab…..
Plus, it shits me a bit it has a nickname – The Jab. This is serious stuff. It has been normalised by a great campaign and people rolling their sleeves and looking ‘honestly’ into the camera.
How about we ‘normalise’ all serious matters?
I hate that word ‘normalise’ almost as much as the phrase ‘the new normal’….. and another one “moving forward”….. and ‘two times’ – IT’S TWICE!!!!
How about we change all language to be trendy and woke (I hate that word too!) and start with getting rid of the word ‘rape’ and use ‘struggle snuggle’ instead, so much less harsh; change the “Make a Wish Foundations” name, as it is a bit misleading, to “Make a Wish, Except that One, Foundation”; get rid of endemic normalised sexism in our drink driving advertisements with terrible discriminatory slogans such a “Drink Drive You’re A Selfish Prick’ to ‘Drink Drive You’re a Selfish Prick and/or Bitch and/or Non-Binary Arsehole”…..??
Just saying: not a fan of ‘The Jab’ phraseology.
I’ll say, right up front, that I am a ‘doomsday prepper’.
But, I am an intellectual ‘doomsday prepper.
I watch apocalypse movies and never want for toilet paper. I yell at the screen “NO, NO, NO…. NEVER SPLIT UP!!! DIDN’T YOU WATCH EVERY HORROR MOVIE EVER MADE?!!”
I have some cans of baked beans, just in case! …. and I did once write a little pamphlet called “Ian’s Manifesto for Surviving the Apocalypse’. And, okay, I did give it to all my children…. … and, okay, the ‘manifesto’ was enclosed in their individual ‘Survival Packs’ which I gave them all for Christmas one year….. okay, I do insist that they always carry them in the back of their cars.
And, Okay, last confession: I am writing a novel called “Prepper – My Dad’s Crazy”: and I stuffed up real bad by not finishing it in 2017 when I started it. It is/was, about a Pandemic… yeah, wont be many people writing those stories in the next couple of years.
I watch the ‘Walking Dead’ and can’t believe their biggest challenge is that their hearing is terrible; they never appear to hear the snarling, growling Zombies, until they are less than a metre away.
And, my all time favourite apocalypse movies, are still, the Omega Man and Soylent Green (which is apparently next year?).
But, lately something is wrong…. no, not wrong, but weird.
I make notes during the News when I am not yelling at the TV and intently listening to the ‘local resident’ Jim Bob from Number 37 who said nothing ever happened like that before in their street and he was terrified and it is terrible and horrific and somebody should do something about it (and he obviously has no dentist or dietary plan).
So, I watch stuff, listen to stuff, listen to people and broadcasts and statistics and reassurances from everyone…. including, remarkably the Media (the ‘Merchants of Misery’). When they are on the same side as the Government that really worries me?
And… it’s on the tip of my mind; the face you can see, but can’t remember the name; the place you left your car keys and can’t quite remember where, that sense of ‘deja vue’ about something that hasn’t happened yet; the phone ringing and the person you were just thinking about being the one calling…..
I am certain I right; if I could only think what is was…..
Hopefully, ‘The Jab (Part 2)’ will have the answer.
I broke so many of my rules tonight about watching TV.
I watched the News without appropriately suspending my belief in everything they said?
I then watched a small segment on the creditable ‘news commentary’ show, The Project
I did the above sober
The Media, as I have so fondly called them in the past “The Merchants of Misery” are demonstrating their complete involvement in a world that does not exist, as are our professionally appointed most popular people in charge, our politicians.
I want to rave, but know the average internet exploror only has a few moments before the next Tic-Toc is due with another person dancing badly…. so:
I am watching the Merchants of Misery, accompanied by condescending politically staged medical professionals reciting rhetoric of equally confusing renditions – with people nodding their heads in the background, of incomprehensible lockdowns and red, blue, green and something else areas, being enforced with massive fines in NSW, and travel restrictions and exceptions that allow …..” stuff” and prevent other “stuff” ….. as we open our borders to Victoria…. as the most popular person in South Australia, no qualifications required, The Premier in charge, tells us all to go out in Rundle Street and have a party…..
I couldn’t make this shit up.
I have brought myself to tears of laughter, with a mate, ‘voice overing’ the News bulletin, which, I think would make a great You-Tube channel, but, I not have not bought myself to do it…. as I check in, comply, live in the country and have 100 days of food. I’m okay.
Have a good time in Rundle Street on the piss with Steve Marshall.
I hope this post “The Media” is the beginning of a planned continuation of their abuse and lasts longer than the first session of most Netflix series we are sucked into.
Well for those who read my post on 26th January 2021, here is Part 2. I have managed to keep the chronology the same as I wrote it in my little ‘travelling notebook’ so I hope it is reasonably understandable – even though most of the journey home I was a bit confused. I apologise there are no photos (PS: I put photos in after….?), but it is a story and not a comic – although?
Enjoy…
17th January 2021: Sunday – Today I chose to do nothing and succeeded!
ISO Day 12
Isolation Day #1. I slept like a log; sleeping from midnight until 11.00 am; Checked the Fit Bit and I was actually asleep all the time other than all the hours I was tossing and turning – I had lots of REM sleep but I think most of it was reliving the journey home.
Now, where did I leave off yesterday? Oh, yeah, Melbourne…. and I think this part of the journey is definitely worth a Part 2.
15th January 2021: Friday: I land in Melbourne; I wore my ‘N95’ mask on the plane, which was a good idea s everyone was in their own separate row, and there were lots of empty rows; except mine where there were three of us and I was sitting in the middle?
The guy on the isle asked the Hostie if we could fill up some of the empty rows, and as nice as she was, apparently the rules were not to change seats until after we had taken off; we complied. First time ever that I didn’t have to fight for an armrest.
NB: Just a point of interest: are airline hosties getting larger and older?
Plus, I noticed that the guy on my left, by the window, was still wearing his hospital arm band; all good; doors closed; taking off soon and I’ll have an isle to myself.
“…. Your Captain speaking. A thunderstorm is passing over the airport so the ground staff for safety reasons can’t oprate and we will have to wait until the storm passes. We don’t want any mishaps from wet tarmac or lightening strikes which I’m sure you all respect and understand….”
Some grumbles throughout the plane but, most nodding with approval and understanding.
I’m sorry, but am I the only one on the plane who doesn’t understand the implications of what the ‘Captain’ just said who is apparently subordinate to some bloke in HiViz who waves ping pong bats!!!!
Plus, I’m about to rumble down the runway at about 300 km/h and the tarmac I suspect will still be wet; and I am sitting in a giant metal lightening rod!!!!
I believe my friend on the left sensed the same thing and saw the gravity of our predicament as a skid pan faraday cage and started pulling on his hospital bracelet? He did manage to calm shortly after when he started to play some music on his iphone…. unfortunately he was playing it at full volume and didn’t have any earphones… things were starting to get interesting as the Hostie waddled past and ignore us.
… and, although it doesn’t sound true the first song he played was “People are Strange” by The Doors!? (It’s interesting to listen to that song as I commented in Part 1: so, I thought with my mate on the left faces were definitely coming out of the rain!)
And, then there is me, not completely devoid of mental ‘challenges’ thinking that my mate on the left might needs a hand and I’m not one for being a bystander, if I can help.
So I said “Hey, mate, The Doors, People are Strange” pointing to his phone which he had jammed to his ear. He nodded, and smiled and asked me when we would be taking off: I told him what the ‘Captain’ had said… I offered him my three quarter bottle of water; I thought considering our sitting positions if we were going to transfer COVID19 it was already done. He took the bottle tentatively and drank the lot in one guzzle…..
…. and we listened to his Doors music, no one else spoke (funny how people will complain about a crying child – but if you have crazy eyes and look a bit dishevelled you can get away with most public displays of weirdness without question or comment?) He smiled and pointed at his phone as each new song started; we listened to Riders of the Storm and a few others and thankfully “The End” wasn’t next on his shuffle playlist!
The thunderstorm passed, the highly tattooed, bearded and Mr Universe muscled ground crews came from hiding in the basement from the scary thunder and rain and got into their enclosed air conditioned ‘plane backing up thingo’, and I am sure someone had the hazard pay for kicking the white wooden block thingo’s from behind the wheels and wave around the ping pong bats, and we were away.
Shortly after a lovely Hostie squeezed down the isle (I apologise but I just remembered the new term is Flight Attendant?) moved us all to the empty rows.
My friend next to the window stayed in his place; later during the flight we caught each others eye and he gave me a smile and a wave.
So we get to Melbourne: I noticed as everyone was getting ready to get off the plane, they seemed kinder to each other?
I realized as we were taxiing to the terminal that perhaps my ‘papers’ were not in order? I switched on my phone and checked my emails first, as about 10 days ago I had applied to re-enter South Australia and even after 2 followup enquiries as to what was happening I was to please to say I received an automated reply to say they were very busy…. As Jackie and I had already completed an ‘entry pass’ to Victoria that appeared to be answered by a computer, that we had never been asked for, I thought I’d do it again….
…. and I did, and before we reached the terminal Hal9000 (for anyone under 60 see movie “2001 a Space Odyssey – Hal9000 was the first movie computer to kill humans for their own good…) gave me the big thumbs up to explore Victoria.
I was flying with our friends at JetStar so expected when we got off we would walk down the stairs and across a windy tarmac, when our informative ‘Captain’ advised us that buses would be transporting us to go straight to quarantine… ?
The seat belt light dings off and over head lockers open and crunched necks under them all looks towards the door; I sit and wait, I’m patient plus I forgot which locker I put my bag in?
We all walk off; I am beginning to not have to think as I am again ushered into a line, onto the bus: I comply. We are all now crammed on a ‘Midnight Express’ bus using the Tetris approach of fitting a giant plane load of people all having been sitting in their separate seats, into a bus a 10th of that size and grabbing hand rails and each other as we stop and start and jerk and weave to the terminal – what a fitting word?
I shouldn’t complain about the driver as I was initially expecting a ‘Bali Airport Bus ride’ and in fact this bloke made Jackie dealing with a bad customer look relatively fast – the pace allowed us all to stay on the bus longer I suppose; don’t want to miss anyone out getting infected.
Finally, we did terminate at the terminal into a coned, taped and signed off area – there is no-one there and people, I presume to be somewhat ‘official’ standing at the front of the bus seemed confused – as did the bus driver as he couldn’t get the front door open – there was many muffled ‘walkie-talkie’ chats – how do they understand each other?….
… and suddenly men in gloves, and masks and shields and yellow plastic gowns came scampering towards us to everyones relief – I thought it was all a bit comical and dystopian at the same time. We are then ushered off the bus, through halls and corridors which I think were previously used by our beloved ground staff to hide during thunderstorms and for a sly smoke, into and area identified by a hastily printed and laminate sign saying; “Arrival hall.” We are met by no doubt hard working, best intentioned, recently trained, contracted and no doubt overpaid “COVID19 OFFICIALS’, they had HiViz and everything- we all line up again, I comply.
I flash my phone as the computer has already told me on the tarmac that I am welcome to Victoria… many others get ushered into the naughty corner to sit down and fill out their forms, on their phones, for the computer to say yes… (I thought that too – what if you didn’t have a phone, or didn’t know how to use it – I didn’t’ see that, which disappointed me a bit?)
… and then there was the poor bastard in front of me ushered into the naughty corner to fill out his forms, with his mate, who doesn’t have a phone as his mate has one… who says “My phone is flat do you have a charger?” The wonderful, underinformed and untrained to anything other than robotic responses, who at that time will always be blazoned in my mind, with his disposable mask, shield, gloves, gown/cape that looked like a many times worn $2.00 poncho for the footy: somehow, I dont know why? Reminded me at that exact moment of the first condom I had ever purchase from Johnny the Barber in my home town in Berri (Johnny is still cutting hair in the same shop 40 years later. I have a tony-tail at the moment but I miss sitting in the shop which I used to do when I first moved back a few years ago, with a minimum 45 minute wait, which was never boring as all the men about town would drop in, some for hair cuts, most not, and exchange the latest tale or rumour or snippet of gossip… I’d learn more in 45 minutes that reading the local paper or perhaps any other source – and some of it was gooooood!)
NB As a side issue, while I am thinking of it; many hours, or it could have been days later, I saw the poor bastard again with the flat phone at the Taxi rank; he was asking all the drivers if any of them had a charger as he had to pay with his phone. I had a charger that fitted his phone that didn’t even fit my phone? I had a power pack as well; but, really who doesn’t travel with a charger? I was a bystander and walked passed – the bloke needed to learn a lesson and I was part of that teaching process.
So, I walked on past to the ‘smoking prison’ and smoked my guts out.
Plus, I am loving the slight bite to the air and walking with my really cool carry on… which I occasionally let go of as I am walking down a slight slope and watch it do little spin turns before I catch up a few steps later…. it is a cool carry on which I bought at ALDI … went to get milk again and came home with a suit case! I always wanted one with the 4 wheels which this one has; I actually bought a full size suit case and when I got home this one was inside like a Babushka Doll!
Interlude: While waiting at the airport, after smoking my guts out, which I did several times, each time having to go through security… My sister Cheryl called me from Perth. We chatted about how things were going as her wife, Sam has breast cancer and is going through treatment. It is funny how at different moments you think of things differently, and even if you change your mind later that thought, that feeling lingers; I think also it has to be a good thought. After I hung up I had a little ‘teary-teary’ as I do love my sister very much and we have gotten over some pretty big hurdles; also Sam and Chery have been together for I think at least 25 years. The thought came to me, that I would give Sam my last years if I could as I want nothing more than to see my sister truely and always happy; I am very proud of her and Sam; I know my girls would understand, but, you can’t transfer cancer. So, I went and got a combination Vietnamese Poh and was grateful it wasn’t me that had cancer.
Belly full, smoking jail visited again, notebook purchased and writing my ‘Jacki and Ian’s Sydney Adventure, Part 1’…. 5 hours in the Melbourne Airport, about an hour on the plane, 3 hours on the road home back to Berri…. What could possibly go wrong: oh, you fool……
Getting Home: 15th – 16th January 2021: I’m starting to enjoy myself going in an out of security to the smoking jail: I like that the same security guards don’t seem to recognise me and give me the same instructions each time, and often different degrees of searching – we don’t have to worry about robots taking over the world they are already here; and they are not that clever….
Okay, I’m bored. I sit myself in a good spot to see the departure screen as apparently the gate we are on is a secret and next to each flight as it comes up is “Relax! Your gate will be displayed in 60 minutes” and it appears that this countdown has no actually rhythm to it as the next screen still telling us to relax could say its 11 minutes or eighty – at least it does appear to be a count down. Now, as you can see, I love the 24 hour clock as that is what I have used during my entire working life, so I was all over when by plane departed.
Now the guy I’m going to talk about doesn’t know this yet as I think I made up a story about what happened next, or just skipped over the question. My mate Mark, who regularly video calls me in the evening and we have a beer together, him in his back room and me in the shed; as we have official notification from many drinking authorities, that this does not count as drinking alone. We have a video call and I am in smoking prison, but move inside as that brisk breeze has now turned into a howling gale and I understand that all airports and public building are designed and specifically engineered to enhance any breeze into wind tunnel equivalent speeds. I chat with Mark for some time as I can’t go through security on the phone. I let him know I have to go inside as my flight is soon; the departure board will be telling me it is anywhere between 13 minutes and 5 minutes before they tell me which gate I have to walk to and how long it will take me to get there…
Security, again: glance up at the departures board “JQ776 Adelaide GATE CLOSED’
There is no direction to ‘RELAX’ so I go into ‘survival mode’; knowing that only 15% of all people on the planet are natural survivors and that in the movies when you get to the gate they always let you in if you tell them a story about life or death, or love…..
But, I decide to run because although there is no ‘walking time’ on the board it is Gate 59 or something similar…. I try to run and look cool and pretend I am the kid in love actually weaving through the crowd…
I see the ‘travelator’ knowing that most people just stand on them and block the way but they are designed to either do great YouTube clips on or get you to your destination faster… I might add at this stage my cool jog may have turned a little into a desperate sprint and I am multi tasking and thinking up a story to tell the gate attenants along the lines of I am a bone marrow donator and a small child has only 24 hours to live…… and I prove that men can’t multi-task and jump on the travelator on the right that is apparently going the wrong way but I am committed at this stage and give it that extra spurt feeling the muscles ripping from my shins knowing walking may be a problem tomorrow; I shoot of the end off the end of the longest travelator I have ever been on at about 30 km/h and if not for the sea anchor of my ALDI carry on would have fallen flat on my face: I don’t know if anyone has seen any of this as I am in survival mode with the peripheral vision of looking down one of McDonald terrible new paper straws.
I’m at Gate 1599: the wheels on my ALDI carry on are smoking and my legs are like jelly, but, hallelujah there are people in orange uniforms and I say, almost breathlessly and with a deliberate pathetic whine “Am ….. I ….. too ….. late.”
In the calmest of voices, me expecting to hear “of course not sir, we heard about the bone marrow donation…” a lovely flight Attendant, or in this case the evil Gate Keeper says: ‘Yeah, it’s gone. Go downstairs to the service desk and they should be able to assist you.”
In this well rehearsed rebuke of pleasantries he waves his arm at the gate door in what I see as his private triumph. In one last hope I look past the gate keeper thinking if the plane is close enough I could jump (to a certain extent I am still in a movie?) and see but one thing; my trip nemesis’s the infamous ground crew are triumphantly backing my plane out in their air-conditioned comfort; the bastards.
I walk the 7 or 8 kilometres back to the departure lounge, using the travelator in the right direction and just standing there; I go down the familiar escalator and take a moment in smoking prison to gather my thoughts.
Okay, this is not a disaster, but just another unplanned leg on the adventure; I am the 15% survivor. I approach the ‘service desk’ with a plan and draw the attention of the three ladies behind the counter “Hey, what’s going on here….” leaving that hanging for effect, before and looking at three stares that are drifting from surprise, disbelief to instantaneous thoughts of ways they were going to delay me for days at the maximum cost when I follow up with “…. obviously you have to be a model to work here….” the looks soften and smiles appearing, and the coupe-de-gras “…no, if must be a models conference and here’s me thinking it was the service desk…”
…. about thirty minutes later I have a rebooked flight, seat 5A, all with no charge.
I’m back!
I plan to relive Tom Hanks role in “The Terminal’ and live in the airport for 20 hours before my flight leaves; easy, free wiFi, comfortable bench and I am sure I can con a free meal and coffee…. my somewhat lethargic step has a new bounce although the hammy is stinging a bit and I approach my old friends at the security check point.
“Excuse me sir, do you have a boarding pass?”
Cool, this is a new one. I confidently whip out my paper boarding pass which the models issue to me and with the arrogance that comes only before a fall swagger the words out “Here ya go then.”
“I’m sorry, the domestic terminal is closed and this ticket is for tomorrow.” I hate statements which are suppose to be questions or directions, so I answer this robot of rhetoric with the first thing that comes to the master of wit:
“Wha?”
At that stage my security robot without emotion, and I am sure, she didn’t blink, monotones at me:
“The international terminal is open and there are motel’s nearby.”
I find myself channeling one of the greats; Richard Gere in an “Officer and a Gentleman” when he is being punished by the Sergeant Major and is told that is doesn’t matter what he does he is going to be kicked out. I feel the moment, I save the tears, but take the tone:
“I got nowhere else to go.” I think I managed a whimper.
My darling uniformed, unblinking Stepford Wife, is unmoved. I turn with my little ALDI carry on, which was packed for one day and start to slowly walk away:
“Sir, it’s the other way.” I don’t look up. I turn around and shuffle off, I think I developed a limp until I was out of view.
I realise another moment in smoking prison is what I need and perhaps an internet search for boarding houses nearby.
I make my way to my favourite exit, with doors that only seems to sense me just before I walk into them; again timed perfectly, as it begins to open an old lady on a walker smashes into my ankles. We are the only two people in the airport at this time other than the robots. Always the gentleman, I step aside as the doors open as she cackles at me is a voice of death “Where are the Taxis” – just as she walks into gale force winds and a torrential down poor.
I laugh. I think a little bit too high pitched. Granny grimaces at me as all I can say is “Can I help you.” I get a no thank you without the thank you and I let the doors close with the Wicked Witch of the West on the other side. I laugh again and I’m glad I’m not her.
I sit in the part of the airport where all of the robot booking in terminals are and search the internet: my Tom Hanks plan abandoned. I see the fancy hotels but I’m going for speed. The IBIS Budget Motel looks good for me and is within walking distance – the rain has stopped, the airport is abandoned and I’m feeling like The Omega Man. A Taxi driver stops and asks if I need a ride and I explain my IBIS Budget Motel plan and he gives me directions which are helpful but finished with the phrase “… its hard to get to from here…” I set of with my little ALDI carry on in tow and Google maps talking to me in the background and apparently only 800 metres to go, not problems I ran further than that a few hours ago to miss a plane.
Just another little interlude: As I was walking to the motel I saw a young lady about Jackie’s age sitting under the terminal veranha, in a T-shirt and no shoes. I walked past as I was probably creepier to her and more worrying than any help I could provide; but, I was in a good mood and would at best just get a smoke bummed off me or told to please go away with the use of two words. I stopped and turned and said “Are you okay?” in my most Fatherly caring voice and she replied “Yeah, I just finished work and Mum is picking me up” “No problems, it’s just a bit cold, thought I’d check” I replied and turned to keep walking when “Hey” I turned back “Thanks” she said, smiled and I smiled back and walked on towards the motel. I got to where the path turned and could see back to where she was; and her Mum picked her up; and, I felt the better for it.
Onward, along the path which appeared to be manufactured as a texture test track for my ALDI bag and Google telling me I was there. I walked around a couple of industrial sheds and found the IBIS Motel right there. I might add, a welcoming site – I was getting a bit knackered by this time.
I walked into reception and the only other thing that would have surprised me more was if my friend from the plane was there or they were playing The Doors over the speakers…. ….there was the Wicked Witch of the West with her walker demanding the guy on reception carry her bags to her room. I sat patiently in the waiting area and eventually after the witch had gone, I was booked in and carried my own bag to my room.
It was a great little room; my idea of an airport hotel; clean and basic with everything working and nothing you don’t need to pay for. I had a shower, hit the sack in clean crisp white sheets and suspect I was asleep in 10 seconds.
I want to say the next morning, the adventure got even more exciting, but it just didn’t. I had a Macca’s breakfast marvelling at the staff who though wearing a mask didn’t mean covering your nose; which as I stood there waiting for my sausage McMuffin was revealed to me as a trend set by the two uniform cops who came in showing their noses.
I walked back to the terminal; through security and my robot buddies; it must have been a new shift as this mob mainly ignored us travellers and appeared more intent on chatting to each other.
Then I sat, watched the departure board and went to the Gate at a leisurely pace and didn’t use the travelator. I suppose I then saw why they post the gates late; there is no where to sit and we are all crammed in a very small area standing around waiting for the Gate Keeper to open up. I hung at the back with my up front seat.
On the plane sitting one seat away from a lady who made the Wicked Witch of the West’s gaze look positively pleasant, so, headphones on and a meditation to Adelaide (well I slept?).
It’s not really exciting here on as we did, step forward, repeat… going through screening where I looked surprised when they told me I had to do 2 weeks isolation and asking multiple times if they were sure – they were sure. They had received their training last week and were told to be sure even if they weren’t….
I drove home and loved the trip which I took at a leisurely pace: I laughed when I walked through the front door as I was so glad to be home: I drank beer and went to bed.
Well, that’s my trek with my wonderful daughter Jackie and the return trip of an idiot – much like the Ricky Gervais show An Idiot Abroad, but this was just in Sydney and Melbourne.
I have just returned from getting my Day 12 COVID19 test and only have a few days to go; there will be no Part 3 of me in isolation as basically I did nothing. In reflection of my ‘adventure’ I probably realised a few things:
If the pandemic has another wave in Australia we really need to learn how to wear face-masks and not touch our faces; and what 1.5 metres really is.
When something has happened, not matter how you feel about it, you can’t change if from having happened; so, you may as well accept it and enjoy it.
Road trips are cool (especially with your kids, one-on-one).
Coming home is always fantastic not matter how great the journey.
I am sure I will go on many more adventures, journeys and treks …. I am planning a trek for a year (well that is as far as I have got so far, I don’t know where, I don’t know how and I don’t know when, I just know I’m going….) and hoefully will be able to share many more stories.
Be Happy, Be Healthy, Be Peaceful, Say Hello and Smile…. it scares the shit out of people!
The Prime Minister said that people hoarding and ‘panic’ buying were un-Australian…..
He later said that people had ‘optimism bias’ and as such were not obeying the new rules…
He later said he had to put in ‘social distancing measures’ to stop people doing things like going to Bondi Beach…..
He calls on us to emulate the ‘ANZAC Spirit’ and all work together as ‘Aussies’ which we always do when the chips are down….
The hypocrisy….
Australians follow their leaders. The Prime Minister and all politicians are the people who set the tone of our society. They are driven, manipulated and seek the lime light with the Merchants of Misery (The Media). They say ‘panic’ buying and hoarding is Un-Australian, no, it is the Australians that our politicians are. Politicians look after number one; they stomp on whoever they can to get what they want; and during the process they hoard enough superannuation to feed a small town. No, Mr Prime Minister, you are seeing the legacy of the ‘Australian’ you are and the Australians you created. PS: The Prime Minister gets of telly about rolls of toilet paper but is relatively silent about 500 billion (about 38%) being lost on the stock marked due to ‘panic selling’….. sorry, stock brokers and investors are clever people while the toilet paper hoarders are….. the… same???
Optimism bias! Ha! How dare you accuse a few people going to the beach and or a cafe when you had weeks notice that this virus was coming to our shores like a tsunami. Mr Prime Minister did you forget you ‘optimism’ not that long ago telling everybody to go about ‘business’ as usual? While at the same time Italy, Iran, China etc, etc, had already told you it will never be business as usual again! He was going to the footy days before he started shutting down the country – now that’s not a mixed message!? …. Oh, I forgot that politicians blame us for what they have done; you traitors and Un-Australians for going to the beach…… my mistake?
Social distancing similar to the Prime Minister and the Chief Medial Officer shaking hands with everyone a day prior to the ‘Bondi Beach Madness’…. I’m sorry but the hypocracy is so blatant that you don’t notice it because no one with any sense of emotional intelligence would think that people would buy it….. but, we are? PS: … and the difference at a wedding, funeral for one day… and school everyday is?
…. and when all else fails, call on the ANZAC spirit. Just remember these ANZAC heroes were mostly led by a bunch of dills calling the shots from safety. And, please remember that ANZAC cove was a failure and a defeat. In actual fact, it was probably the first ‘Bradbury’ – we lost, but because we retreat really good, it was a victory? Mr Prime Minister, please do not soil the memory of these heroes by pretending that you have as much to sacrifice; it is us, the ‘foot soldiers’ that keep the spirit alive by defending ourselves against you and helping each other out when you continue to fail.
Well….
Sitting down to write a positive post, didn’t quite work out for me?
I haven’t written for a while as I felt I was being harshly judged about what I was writing; so, I thought the first post back in the saddle should be as judgemental as possible!
But, lets face it, writing a blog is not exactly about being a shrinking violet and not have a degree of ‘show off’ in you?
I don’t think politicians have realised that creating an economy, and doing anything to protect it, and having The Merchants of Misery as ally and foe, does not create a community in a time of crisis; this is what WE do, most days actually; and our community will get us through, irrespective of your promises. (which gets me thinking about all those millions in aid to the bushfire victims…..?).
So, I hope to be positive in future posts and talk more about saving our ‘community’. I believe our economy will never be the same again; but, our community, our communities, US, can be stronger than ever.
I don’t want to talk about the politicians anymore or ‘firm directions’ they are giving us about what we ‘should’ be doing – we are Australians, we have the ANZAC spirit and if someone tells us not to do something, well, most of us don’t do it….. but, suggest to us we ‘shouldn’t’ do something….. well, it’s almost like a dare!
Shows how Un-Australian you are Mr Prime Minister.
Happiness is a very interesting concept. Once you ask yourself if you are happy you cease to be so… Plus, if you were actually happy why would you do anything that could endanger that – it would be silly!
Just lately I have been chatting to people and attempting to gauge their ‘happiness.’ I never ask them in case they are happy and as above, by asking them they would cease to be happy… I think?
A lot of the people I note are very busy. They have stuff to do and places to go, and this and that needs to be done, usually yesterday and of course there is always a meeting that can’t be missed and they have to rush to… (you may be interested in reading my guide to meetings by clicking here – remember any good meeting is a great alternative to actually working!).
I was writing something else the other day in another place (do you know how expensive spray cans are these days!) and it goes like this….
” … life goes on; it tumbles down a hill without thought or
often reason and we ride the avalanche of information, obligation and need; but wait, stop and you see all the scenery that was racing past and you get to watch it for a moment; You flail your arms and grab at moments going by. You stumble, roll and fall but bounce right back up again and continue at a greater pace. You realise the endless movement is not necessarily progress and the deafening noise is all in your head; after all it is not the ground giving way under you…. the never ending momentum that you are caught up in is because you are actually running.”
Perhaps, happiness is those fleeting moments, a grab at the passing scenery, a flash of beautiful colour out the corner of your eye. And, perhaps if you do it often enough and find that running is actually fun as well, then happiness is already here – its just that you have to notice and appreciate it for what it is.
… and finally if you are doing so much running it is nice to be actually going somewhere and be looking forward to a destination …
War, what is it good for … well let’s think about that for a moment…
I live in a great community.
Peaceful, beautiful scenery, no traffic, a sense of history, wonderful country people working together to make the place better and more….. um…. let’s just think about that list for a minute….
The Riverland is the place I am talking about and ‘working together’ is a wonderful thought but perhaps a myth….?
I have spoken to people who have not spoken to people for 30 years because one punched the other in the guts behind the lunch shed at recess time …. or my Dad hated your Dad so I hate you … or you live in another town so I was born to hate you … …
I think the only towns this doesn’t apply to are the ‘Switzerland’ towns like Monash or Glossop which fall into neutral territory. Well you may be from neutral territory until you sign up for a sports team when your parents take you to practice for the first time when you are 11 then you give up your Switzerland citizenship and become a naturalised citizen of your new country – but not really because you weren’t born there… and that is everything.
These ‘countries’ are of course for life, your citizenship is for life and loyalty is everything.
We, us Riverlanders are constantly at war, north, south, east, west and of course those ones from across the river!
I propose a solution.
We have a war, a real war. Wars settle long held grudges and everybody gets along afterwards e.g. 2 World Wars and now we love German cars and engineering plus the Japanese make all our electronics and we have their words tattooed on our bodies, that old chestnut the Vietnam ‘police action’ and now they are some of our most valued citizens are Vietnamese and it is our recent most popular tourist destination – bloody hell our current South Australian Governor Hieu Van Le was born in Vietnam!
Plus wars encourage inovation, get the factories going making guns and other stuff to kill each other, wars get rid of troublesome young people (you know the ones, those entitled brats who are always on their cell phones and didn’t drink out of the hose when they were young!)
Wars are basically great!
(Plus wars solve everything like the war on terror and the war on drugs – bang! Both done and dusted and pouring in enough money and lives gets it done…. innovation, talking and compromise are for the weak!)
I propose we have a war to unite the Riverland and settle once and for all which town is better and more to the point who will be the King! This is not a figurative war but a literal one (please explain the difference to anyone under 25!).
We tell the Government (who do nothing for country people anyway – love that old chestnut as well and unfortunately have experienced it…) that we are going to settle our own affairs. It will be a ground war with conventional weapons (no chemical weapons or nuclear weapons – do we really want the USA coming in looking for weapons of mass destruction or building walls everywhere…). Of course we will have to change this silly Riverland Murraylands thing which covers more territory than most countries and just make it a Riverland thing – of course Blanchetown and Waikerie may decide to bug out and become part of the Barossa….
Of course if you don’t want to be involved you can go to Monash or Glossop (or other designated Switzerland towns) and sit the entire thing out – if you weren’t born here you can also leave but if you were born here you must stay and fight – well after all it is your fault either for your activity or inactivity.
There will be an official declaration of War Gala – of course tickets will be $100 to attend and most will complain and boycott it as not only is it too expensive you have to wear long pants and a tie – it will be on the Riverfront and the main aim will not be to declare war but get as drunk as possible.
After the declaration and the afterparty breakfast the following day it will be on for young and old. (Well not really the old – they just cling onto power and prevent anything actually changing…. but the young, well they will just live in the situation we, the old, created… and they better be grateful!
The Katarapko Convention for the Riverland War will be convened regarding the rules of war (what a silly thing to have rules of war!) and will include:
All prisoners will be treated humanly and provided with one meal of a Parmy and a beer a day (no innovative food will be served especially anywhere with table service)
Op shops will not be ransacked (the Riverland has some of the best Op shops in the country – a national treasure actually!)
Riverland Forum on Facebook will be the official news service for the war and report daily on traffic, lost pets, recommendations for services (only if this information is readily available from at least 100 other sources) – in the event that Riverland Forum is compromised by positively reporting the Riverland War then multiple other pages will be created to report – e.g. Riverland Forum without rules etc etc
HiViz is not a uniform and anyone caught wearing it (especially when going out for dinner) will be shot as a spy
All local Councils will be excluded from the war (unless required as human shields) as their allegiances to any particular town is a bit fuzzy.
Individual towns may have a navy which must consist only of jet skis which must at all times be travelling a top speed and apparently going nowhere.
Medical assistance must be provided to the injured which may entail a 3 week wait or the conscripting of well meaning doctors who are trapped in the combat zone and have been conscripted to work to death.
Any town may surrender at anytime (or fight to the death irrespective of the damage to their town or the Riverland) and will immediately become a suburb of the victor.
I think it will be a great war and provide the Riverland with a new start.
At the end of the war one town will be the victor and declared the Capital of the Riverland. That town will elect a King, who must actually ahve some qualifications and not just win a popularity contest vote on by their relatives, who will become the benevolent dictator (a proven political system so long as the benevolence continues…).
And we will rebuild! (the USA will probably want to help but let’s hope the King says no otherwise we will all be back where we started).
The King will have one Council to help him, the businesses will have one Chamber of commerce to help them, the Service Clubs will work together, the farmers will work together irrespective as to what they grow (except if it is cotton or rice – anyway they should have been shot during the war!)
Of course in addition to the mundane tourist attractions we have already we will now have such national icons such as:
The Battle of Bookpernong Cemetery (there will be lovely underutilised gardens)
The march of Katarapko Creek (it will be an annual pilgrimage to walk the track – which will be poorly marked and unkept)
The Mookrook Massacre (war crime trials continuing for years, even decades in the Kangaroo Courts which are a long standing Riverland tradition)
The Loxton Siege site (which was self imposed to keep the rabbits out)
The New Loveday Interment Camps (currently used for conciensious objectors and people who have lived in the Riverland for 20 or more years but will never really be locals – just to teach them a lesson)
There will be one Riverland Show to celebrate the end of the War.
There will be heaps of good stuff to take for granted … and we will do it together.
Of course this is silly – although I did get a lot of pleasure writing it and seeing the looks on peoples faces….
But, aren’t the Riverland towns now and haven’t they been for some time, in a Cold War. It is like Russia and the USA in the 1960’s and 1970’s – war is not declared but we are in a battle for supremacy, to the detriment of all.
What is Community. Is it one town, is it the Riverland, is it the Riverland Murraylands – it’s all of it. It’s realising that punch in the guts behind the lunch shed at recess time didn’t mean all that much then and means less, actually nothing now … and that bloke and/or girl is all grown up now and a part of my Community, perhaps my neighbourhood.
Those kids that have a private war daily in the Riverland by not having the opportunity to be in charge, to lead the way, to innovate, to create… they take their arsenal of youth, enthusiasm, knowledge and potential to not fight in other peoples wars but to build their communities. (also see post on Old People – click here)
I suppose if the war continues nothing gets better, different people with no loyalty to the Riverland get involved (does the war in Afghanistan ring a bell!!!) and ‘our country’ is ruled by invaders and all the locals, their businesses, their lives become collateral damage in a greater ‘good’. (I just had another good idea for a blog called “The Invasion of the Riverland”…. maybe another day?)
Perhaps the greatest war we have to face is the one within ourselves, to forgive (the greatest act of will and surrender we can undertake) work together and make our home, our neighbourhood, our community, our Riverland a wonderful place for everyone.
Visited Nana, Dad, Mum, Grandpa the other day…. Was sitting at McDonalds and an old couple came in…. I saw an old couple walking down the Mall…. Met my mates Nana, Dad, Mum, Grandpa …..
…. and all the fuck I wanted to do was get away, politely and stop myself from gagging!
Why are you wearing those clothes… Why do you have food down the front of those clothes…. Why are you telling me about your last operation or visit to the doctor… Why do you keep saying “when I was young”…. and what the fuck is that smell!!!
Is this deliberate; it must be deliberate – if so you win… if not, it is just sad and annoying…
Being old is a privilege (let me write another blog post about all my young dead friends and family….) – this privilege entitles you to live in the world with the rest of us… but it does not give you the right to live in the past and annoy me in the present.
… and the past is not coming back, and yes, I know you worked hard and did it hard and in your day this and that and please kill me now if you tell me one more time about how good the good old days were….
Well the ‘good’ days today are of your making: although you deny it, you made this world and now we have to live in it and you keep telling us about how good your world was and how someone else fucked it up, not you, ….. and somehow we are responsible…. and not only that you wont get out of the way!
I know this is all terribly unkind and disrespectful to the elderly…. but, I would love to hear about how you solved a problem, or overcame adversity, or suffered a loss, or had an adventure, or what your world was really like….. without boring me to death, or whinging, or lecturing me.
I have had many an old mate, some of my best mates were and are 30+ years older than me… and I am old. Did they bore me, no! Did they tell me about their scheduled doctors appointment, no! Did they complain about the world, no!
They revelled in their old age, they embraced the present and shared wisdom and humour… they transcended age and shared the thought that took years in the making… and they shared loyalty, honour, grace that only comes with time and experience. They told their stories and never lectured, boasted or complained…. they grew old with acceptance and gratitude.
I’m sorry, but, I am not sorry really; if you are old and have nothing good to say about then, now or the future, please remember the hand you dealt us in todays world which is of your making…. you had your chance now please, please, get out of the way…..
…. and especially you old men who wont let go of that small morsel of power you possess….. Yes, yes, you worked hard for it… Bullshit, mostly you just waited your turn…. merit wasn’t around remember it was seniority…
I still baulk at people when they tell me they were born in the 70’s, or 80’s… or even the 90’s and they are my doctor! (Just think about it if you were born this century you are 18 years old this year…. I am telling old people to think about this!!)
Old people…. it is not your world anymore!!!
So you (we, me) are in our 50’s, 60’s, 70’s or even 80’s and are still working, still wanting, dare I say, to be in charge, hang around for that extra $10 of pension…. do us all a favour and retire or die… you are in the way! …. and if you can’t because you can’t afford it then look at the good old days and see how you wasted your money as you relied on your government pension which is now being taken away from you by either your peers or your children…. why? Maybe it was the way they were brought up!
Okay, this is a nasty post…. but sometimes things just have to be said….. and it is now a published reminder that as I age, do so gracefully, with some degree of humility and with a resolve to guide, help, coach, facilitate and support the young of the world…. it is their world now and we have to get out of the way!
PS: Make sure you remind me of this next time I bitch about those young bucks and their stupid clothes and dumb attitudes….
