Dusty Gulch Gazette

Special Dusty Gulch Day Edition

“Blackout Special: Lights Out in the Gulch!”

By Roderick ( Whiskers)  McNibble, Chief Mud-Slinger & Power Failure Correspondent

While the nation was still reeling from the latest Prentis Penjani “liar liar pants on fire” special (charred to a crisp, as usual), and the Honklander brides saga had gone full media blackout, something much louder went BOOM in the valley.

Those two mighty Gulch Valley chimneys -  170 metres of old-school coal muscle -  came crashing down in a controlled demolition that shook the dust right off our swags.

And in true Dusty Gulch fashion, the locals have turned catastrophe into a sing-along.

The Great Blackout Double Act

Out here, we’ve got two kinds of blackout now.

One’s the kind where the lights go out because the wind’s not blowing, the sun’s gone to bed, and that shiny new battery at the old Gulch Valley site is flatter than a roadkill galah.

The other? The convenient media blackout ( courtesy of Lord Squawk Squawk ) on those Honklander brides quietly settling back into the Moonlight Manor after their Honkland adventure.

Prentis Penjani's mob would rather talk about “transition” than either. Funny how that works.

Honklanders Take Moonlight Manor

Meanwhile, as previously mentioned, a fresh convoy of Honklanders has rolled into town and claimed Moonlight Manor -  they look like rubbish bags with small offspring wrapped in bin liners... that once-grand old pile on the ridge that used to host debutante balls and emus with feather boas and now smells faintly of camels and traumatised goats.

They’ve hung the spare key on the Hills Hoist out the back, draped a few Honkland flags, and declared it the new headquarters for “reliable power and reliable principles.” Along with a sign saying " Centre for Honklander Studies and Things that go Boom. " 

The bearded women's initiave group ladies from the big smoke drove past, clutched their pearls, and muttered something about “positive vibes.”

The Honklanders just revved their utes louder and cracked another stubby of goat juice. I still do not know what goat juice is but I suspect I am better off not knowing. 

Tent City Gulchans: Slim Dusty & Camp Oven Blues

Down in the flats, the true-blue Gulchans have set up a proud tent encampment. Much like many parts of Australia these days it seems. 

No fancy solar, no wind turbines spinning uselessly in the still outback air -  just good old canvas, camp ovens, and a determined refusal to freeze or boil in the dark.

They’re not pleased as punch that the chimney stacks got the big bang treatment, but in true Gulch style, they see the bright side. 

“Can’t afford the electricity anyway, mate!” shouted Bluey McGinty between verses.

The whole camp’s been belting out Slim Dusty classics by firelight:

“We’ve been through some hard yakka… but at least the beer’s still cold… for now.”

Fortunately, Mayor Dusty McFookit rigged up the emergency generator of pedal power, kindly donated by the CWA ladies and Ratty Technology Group. 

The Real Crisis: Scone and Lamington Shortage

With only camp ovens and a bit of solar on a good day, the CWA ladies are in open revolt.

“How’s a woman supposed to produce a decent sponge when the power’s more unreliable than a politician’s promise?” wailed Doreen Hopkins, waving a half-cooked lamington like a white flag of surrender.

The orange budgies have convened an emergency meeting, and even the flies are walking up to Moonlight Manor... something to do with rubbish bags? .

The Official Line from Canberra (via carrier pigeon)

“Progress!” says the Energy Minister, while checking the forecast for when the next blackout hits.

“This is the future -  batteries, sunshine, and hope!”

Out here in the Gulch, hope doesn’t keep the fridge running. And it certainly doesn’t bake a decent lamington. But the People Power is alive and pedalling. 

Final Word

So raise your warm stubbies (or your lukewarm billy tea) to Dusty Gulch.

May your blackouts be short, your Slim Dusty playlist long, and your scones… well, at least attempted.

The dust never settles here -  but at least it gives us something to write about.

- Roderick (Whiskers)  McNibble
Chief Mud-Slinger & Power Failure Correspondent
Reporting live from the flickering lantern at the Dusty Gulch Pub pop up just outside of town. Meanwhile the lights in Moonlight Manor are blazing brightly and blinding me.