Some memories shimmer in the mind like a heat haze, half mischief, half magic. This is one of those. A tale from childhood, when the world was big, the days were endless, and every fence was both a challenge and a dare…
When I was a little girl - maybe six or seven - my two older brothers and their friend Norman had a gang called The Silent 3.
Their clubhouse was a dusty old coal smithy at the back of our property, not far from the chook yard. It was a corrugated iron shed, long since abandoned and quietly rusting into the landscape. Perfect for a secret gang headquarters.
Inside, the floor was dirt, and it smelled of rust and mystery and was absolutely thrilling.
That smithy became the scene of a plot so bold it could’ve ended in heartbreak. Let me tell you what happened.
Read more: One little girl, one terrifying bull, and one very brave Teddy Bear.
For over five years now, this blog has grown into more than just a place to post ideas. It's become a home. A well-worn couch beside the fireplace, a front verandah with mismatched chairs, a local pub with a chalkboard menu and a few good jokes behind the bar. It’s a space where mates gather - to laugh, share stories, poke fun, and occasionally let off steam about the state of the world.
Our commenters are mostly older, wise, warm-hearted folk who’ve earned their silver hair ( or no hair, or red hair as the case may be ) and a right to enjoy their days in peace. Many of our regular commenters are older folk - the kind who’ve weathered storms, seen fads come and go, and still know how to laugh with a full heart. We’ve shared stories, laughter, even tears. We’ve farewelled cherished contributors who’ve passed on, and held the space for others navigating the twilight of life who are now unwell. Through it all, what has kept us going is not numbers or clicks - but camaraderie.
Read more: On Hospitality, Harmony, and Knowing When to Show a Guest the Door
In a stunning turn of events, Roderick “Whiskers” McNibble - microphone-wielding rat and founding fur of Ratty News - has launched a surprise campaign that’s gnawing through the foundations of Australian politics. With a platform built on truth, cheese equality, and regular pub nights, McNibble’s cheeky charm has captured the hearts (and voting pencils) of everyday Aussies who are fed up with political possums and bureaucratic bullshit artists.
As early polling is set to open and the pub sausage sizzles are set to fire up, one question dominates the nation: Can a rat really clean up Canberra?
Yet in the background, there is something much more puzzling.
In a bold cultural pivot that’s already got Canberra in a tizzy and the Department of Identity Affairs reaching for the aspirin, Ratty News can now confirm the birth of Australia’s freshest tribal nation: The Rainbow Freckled Folk of Dusty Gulch.
Read more: The Rodent Rebellion Begins: Whiskers McNibble Nips at the Nation’s Polls!
How did it happen?
How did a failed artist and fringe political agitator rise from the ashes of a defeated empire to plunge the world into its deadliest war?
The story of Adolf Hitler’s ascent, and the Nazi Party’s transformation from a gang of misfits into the brutal machinery of a totalitarian state, is not just a warning from history. It’s a masterclass in how democracy can be dismantled from within, how fear can be weaponised, and how a nation once seen as the pinnacle of European culture and science could be dragged into darkness.
This article doesn’t attempt to chart every twist and turn of that grim rise - volumes have done so. Instead, it hones in on the critical years leading up to World War II, viewed primarily through the German lens. It is a story of resentment and retribution, of international indifference, and of political ruthlessness on a scale the world had never seen.
What’s most terrifying is not just that it happened - but how easily it could happen again.
Read more: The Origins of World War II - The Slow Burn to Blitzkrieg: Germany’s Path to War
What happens when the battlefield goes silent....but the war doesn’t end?
When soldiers come home, not to parades, but to tribunals. Not to healing, but to headlines....facing allegations, suspicion, and public misunderstanding.
We trained them to fight, to kill, to survive as lions.
We then expect them to return as house cats. Docile. Tamed. Grateful?
But war doesn’t unmake itself. Combat rewires the mind and body. And without an invisible switch, a path to retrain, reframe, and reintegrate, many veterans face a different kind of battle.
The war within.
Read more: Lions to House Cats? Rebuilding the Warrior's Path After War
John B. Calhoun’s “rat utopia” experiments of the 1960s, designed to be paradises with unlimited resources, resulted in societal collapse and extinction due to extreme behavioural changes, showcasing a dark side of population density and social roles.
The initial population explosion and flourishing of the rat colonies in these utopias turned into a nightmare as they approached their physical and social limits, leading to a breakdown of social structures, deviant behavior, and eventual demographic collapse.
The experiments serve as a chilling parallel to the trajectory of Western society, where periods of abundance and growth gave way to economic shocks, social stagnation, and a rise in antisocial behaviors, suggesting we are experiencing our own form of “behavioral sink.”
Current societal trends, including the breakdown of traditional roles, rising deviancy, and a loneliness crisis, mirror the decay observed in Calhoun’s rat populations, indicating that Western civilisation might be nearing its own “point of no return.”
Humanity possesses the unique ability to recognise its dire straits and has the power to reverse the downward spiral, preventing us from meeting the same fate as the “rat utopias.”
Throughout history, religion has been hailed as a guiding light, a beacon of morality and compassion. Yet, beneath the gilded robes and sacred hymns lies a more unsettling truth: faith is often a tool not of divine grace, but of human ambition. From the emasculation of rivals in Aristotle’s time to the chilling castration of young boys for the sake of celestial choirs, the pursuit of power and control has frequently eclipsed any notion of godliness.
Even figures like Voltaire, whose cynicism toward religion was fueled by its moral hypocrisy, or George Bernard Shaw, whose early exposure to religious pretense led him toward Fabian socialism, reveal how disillusionment with faith can reshape entire worldviews. And in the case of Ned Kelly, it was not merely the iron of his armour that sealed his fate, but the weight of religious prejudice.
This is not a story of divine will—it is a tale of how men, in the name of God, have repeatedly abandoned Him.
Read more: When Faith Becomes a Weapon - The Darker Side of Religion
In a fast-changing Australia, where new cultures and identities weave fresh threads into our ever fading national fabric, the quiet streets of Gulgong offer something rare: a living memory of our country’s colonial foundations.
Once roaring with the fever of gold and the voices of bush poets, this small New South Wales town now stands as a fragile monument to a bygone era. As the echoes of horse hooves fade beneath the hum of modern life, Gulgong reminds us of the stories of our past. Gritty, resilient, and deeply Australian, it is a past that must be cherished, lest it slip entirely into folklore. In towns like this, we see not just where we came from, but what we risk forgetting.
We see it throughout the world: towns caught in time in a world where our colonial heritage is becoming a museum piece, gazed upon as an oddity, no more than a fossil frozen in time ............
Read more: As Gulgong holds on, Australia Moves On.... the Vanishing Voice of Old Australia
When I was a young lass, I was a fencer. No, not the farming type that wandered around the farm putting up wire and posts to keep stock in a paddock. I mean a swish swish, off with their heads type of fencer.
It’s been over 55 years since I last stepped onto a piste, mask in hand and heart pounding. Back then, I learned quickly that no amount of reach or muscle could level the playing field against a male opponent.
But fencing taught me something even more valuable - grace under pressure, and the quiet power of standing your ground. So when I saw young Stephanie Turner take the knee recently, right there in the midst of all the formality and tradition, I felt a surge of pride. In a sport that prizes discipline and silence, her gesture spoke volumes.
Read more: Foiled Again! Women are Being Stabbed in the Back.
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Ratty News Investigative Correspondent
Heard Island, Antarctica - A once-quiet expanse of ice and penguin squawks has erupted into chaos as local penguin colonies seem to stage mass protests against a newly imposed tariff by the Trump administration. The move, designed to close a loophole that allowed Australian goods to bypass existing tariffs, has unexpectedly apparently sent the tuxedo-clad citizens of the Antarctic into a full-scale rebellion.
"We just want fair trade!" honked P. Waddlesworth III, a prominent Penguin Rights activist, who was quickly arrested by Australian authorities. He is currently being denied bail under claims that he is a "flight risk" - a notion his legal team calls "blatantly ridiculous."
In a world obsessed with competition, the most powerful alliances are often overlooked, those between men and women who elevate, rather than undermine, one another.
History is filled with examples of extraordinary partnerships: Winston Churchill and his wife, Clementine, whose unwavering support helped shape a wartime leader; Margaret Thatcher and her husband, Denis, whose quiet strength balanced the Iron Lady’s public force.
These partnerships weren’t built on competition but on mutual respect, complementary strengths, and a shared mission. When men and women work together rather than against each other, families, businesses, and even nations thrive. I wonder: is that why the left seek to sow the seeds of division?
Read more: Stronger Together: Why Men and Women Flourish as Partners, Not Rivals
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