Dusty Gulch Dispatch: The Great Literary Rebellion
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Special Correspondent (still in hiding after a big week in Dusty Gulch)
Well, folks, Dusty Gulch has gone and done it again - stirred up a storm bigger than a dingo’s howl in a willy willy.
The arrival of Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson, two of Australia’s literary titans, was meant to be a moment of pride, a rare chance for our little town to bask in the glow of heritage. Instead, it’s turned into a full-blown revolt against bureaucracy, censorship, and a time of reckoning.
They walked ) or waltzed - into town and and Miss Matilda Longpaddock, member of the CWA, was in tears of joy. Yes, Dusty Gulch was celebrating and Mayor, Dusty McFookit, gave them the keys to the Golden Lamington Cabinet. But what happened next was inconceivable.....
The Incident: Poets, Pubs, and Pandemonium
Banjo and Henry rolled into town like a couple of bush ballads come to life, greeted by a crowd that poured into the Dusty Dingo faster than you could say “Waltzing Matilda.” The mood was electric - until Mayor Dusty McFookit’s welcome was interrupted by Maurice EDuck’s ominous announcement about “recording for misinformation.”
And then in came Fortescue Facebeak.
" Unauthorised entries or departures from Dusty Gulch are hereby forbidden. The Facebeak page for Dusty Gulch is suspended unless you all give us pawprints, clawprints and scans of your McFookit burger discount vouchers."
Before anyone could even dust the grit from their eyes, Lord Squawk Squawk hit the town with a fast news bulletin, declaring that Mr Paterson and Mr Lawson were guilty of “cultural theft and racism.” Seconds later, Maurice EDuck launched an inquiry, banned all their works, and Duck HQ’s Prentis Penjani ordered that their books be removed from libraries and school syllabuses throughout the bush. In fact, the Dusty Gulch Library would be shut down due to " submissive hate speech involving Enid Blyton and Agatha Christie and someone called JK Rowling. "
As for me? My notes were confiscated, my pens were seized, and I found myself scuttling into a wombat burrow with nothing but a Starlink connection and a rather twitchy set of whiskers.
Banjo and Henry? Last seen buggering off out of town with none other than the ghost of Ned Kelly, and are now believed to be hiding somewhere near Wangaratta, likely composing some rebellious verse under the shade of a gum tree. Probably with my distant cousin, Dezi Kelly, a bushrat, currently on the run from the EDucks and Prentis Penjani.
The Digital Dingo: Friend or Foe?
The big question buzzing through Dusty Gulch is: what or who is the Digital Dingo? Is he a shadowy guardian of truth, silently patrolling the web and keeping the town’s stories alive? Or a bureaucratic bloodhound, ready to pounce at the first sniff of dissent?
Some claim he's a rogue AI scraping X posts for “problematic content.” Others reckon he’s just Maurice EDuck’s latest scheme to control the narrative. Whatever it is, the Digital Dingo has Dusty Gulch on edge, and my burrow feels like the last bastion of free speech this side of the Cooper.
The Fallout: A Town in Defiance
Despite bans and inquiries, Dusty Gulch isn’t lying down. The pub hums with debate: half the town whispers plans to smuggle copies of The Man from Snowy River under the table, while the other half argues over whether Ned Kelly’s ghost is real - or simply Banjo’s flair for dramatics.
The kids are scribbling poems in secret, passing verses in the playground like contraband. Old-timers are reciting Clancy of the Overflow over pints, adding new lines of their own. Rumour has it a clandestine printing press is being set up in the back room of the Dusty Dingo. Stories won’t die - not while this town has breath in its lungs and dust in its boots.
Even the air itself seems charged with rebellion. Every gust of wind carries whispers of verse and defiance, reminding us that while the powers that be may try to erase culture, they cannot erase spirit.
What’s Next?
I remain in my wombat burrow, pen in paw, Starlink buzzing, dodging whatever goons Maurice EDuck has sniffing around. Banjo and Henry are still out there, somewhere, likely plotting their next poetic strike with Ned Kelly’s spectral advice.
And the Digital Dingo? Friend or foe, it’s now part of the story, watching from the circuits, its intentions unknown. Will it protect Dusty Gulch’s tales or try to snuff them out? Does X mark the spot? Only time will tell.
As for the town, it endures. Dusty Gulch is stubborn, slightly mad, and utterly alive. The dust might settle, but the stories? They’re just getting started.
A Word to the Wise
Keep your eyes open, your ears twitching, and your pens ready, mates. If you’ve got leads on the Digital Dingo, or know where Banjo and Henry are hiding, drop a line. Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble is still reporting, still scribbling, still alive - just barely - and the next chapter of Dusty Gulch is already whispering in the wind.
Stay tuned. The rebellion has only begun.
- Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, signing off (for now) from the wombat burrow
This article is satire. It uses humour, exaggeration, and a sprinkle of cheekiness to make a point. It’s not meant to be taken literally or as factual reporting. If you’re looking for straight news, this ain’t it. But if you enjoy a good laugh and a bit of honest reflection, you’re in the right place.
