Yesterday, I read something online and it struck me as significant.
We are in a cultural war. We are in a war of the minds. It was about Artificial Intelligence.
I find AI incredibly helpful for research. I recently watched the old film " All the President's Men " and saw the two young journalists pouring over telephone books and electoral rolls and old newspaper articles... the voyage of discovery was long and arduous before computers.
Then it became easy to " google it. " We are now in an era of AI. Instant information, articles seemingly written in a nano second. How lazy we could become. How quickly our brains would simply have a nana nap and let the robot do the hard yards or hard yakka. AI is a tool. Like the computer I am using now.
Nothing can replace the power of critical thinking or the joy in writing something and knowing that it reflects who I am and what I believe.
I am a great friend of the wise men ; " Who" What? " Where? When" and Why? "
My feeling on AI, has taught me a great deal. It is merely a tool. Like a book, an encyclopedia of old or a google search. Nothing can replace critical thinking.
So it was with great interest that I read this today. it was written by a University lecturer who is concerned about her relationship with AI and that of her students.
Read more: Torn About GenAI: Do I Embrace It or Break Up?
The Queensland Government recently placed a ban on pumping and dumping carbon dioxide into the rocks of the Great Artesian Basin.
This was an event rarely seen – politicians have stumbled onto a sensible energy policy. Burying CO2 would achieve nothing useful – just more futile green waste.
But their ban on Carbon Capture and Underground Storage (CCUS) should be extended to all areas of Queensland, not just this one basin.
Even the blinkered Greens and the TikTok generation should recognise that today’s low levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere are too close to the red line of death, where all plant life will die (followed by animal life).
The Troubles, a term used to describe a period of conflict in Northern Ireland, spanned from the late 1960s to 1998. This conflict was characterised by violent confrontations between different communities and a struggle for political and national identity. It is one of the most tumultuous and complex episodes in modern European history.
Until perhaps today..... as Migrants flood Ireland, I wonder if the British will pale into insignificance in comparison?
It led me to research and try and put together an essay to discover the deep rooted nationalistic love the Irish people have for their country.
After all, Ireland has a long history of being betrayed and let down by migration. Forced, when they were faced with the loss of their homes and trekked to places like America, Australia, Canada and elsewhere.
While it is fair to remind ourselves of the African American slaves who lamented " No one knows the troubles I've seen " it is also fair to say that the Irish have seen their fair of troubles.
Read more: The Troubles... Well, it sounds like Trouble... Again....
In 2011, British Illusionist Derren Brown conducted an experiment that I have never forgotten.
In Remote Control, audience members for a game show are asked to wear anonymous masks and dictate the ongoing fate of an unsuspecting, secretly filmed member of the public.
The show takes a look at the horror that emerges when people are allowed to make anonymous decisions as part of a crowd.
It caused a degree of shock and horror at the time and was designed to show us how being anonymous in a crowd can, in his words, “turn perfectly nice people into internet bullies, or rioters, or hooligans”.
Read more: The Mask that Hides the Face of the Mob Mentality
What the hell do I have to do to wake up from this nightmare? Gay Pride MONTH? Seriously? 1/12th of a year dedicated to people who want to boldly go where no man should ever go? Sorry, Star Trek, but Captain Kirk would never have navigated to the Gay Galaxy.
Sometimes, you just have to say no. Enough. I am all out of sympathy, all out of hugs and all out of embraces for men who do not want to be a blokie bloke.
A bloke is Aussie speak for a man. To be a blokie bloke means a man who is a real man. And I for one have a great deal of respect and admiration for men who still proudly proclaim their blokeiness. You know the kind of thing: being hardworking, masculine and protective. And he sure as hell doesn't wear a tutu or drive an e-scooter to save the planet.
Gay Pride Month is, in my very not humble opinion, a month too long.In fact, I would abolish all bloody recognition days.
But if we are stuck with them, is there any way that I can get a month for Bloke Month? You know, the idea of a whole month where men can – with their mates – drink beer, cuss, scratch their balls and ogle big-breasted women and fart in bed? 'OK, I am not a male. But I get the vibe. I was married to one and I know what a blokie bloke is. Yet, in spite of these things, they still manage to go to work, pay the bills and generally make life better for all those they know.
One fateful day in March 2020, the incompetent men shut down the world with lockdowns. It was the opposite of the premise in Atlas Shrugged. Who is John Galt? Who cares? The incompetent people could stop the motor of the world too. Atlas shrugs either by disappearing competence or by an overwhelming mass of incompetence too great even for Atlas’s broad, strong shoulders.
Competency crises seem to be brewing left and right and are constantly on public display of late. Consider the self-interested testimony of Fani Willis. Jared Bernstein, the chair of the White House Council of Economic Advisers, caused an interview to go viral by struggling to explain monetary policy.
Several previously 100% effective Covid vaccines have been withdrawn from the market (Johnson & Johnson, AstraZeneca). Lastly, consider the inspiring image of our own Secretary of Defense triumphantly marching off his plane in the Philippines wearing his Covid mask and face shield.
Trump is a master boomerang hurler. He throws them out and sometimes hits and sometimes misses. But he always knows his target. When he misses, the prey, whether it be a feral pig, a snake, or a wayward lizard, it will always know that it was nearly a victim and it feels fear of the next attack.
A boomerang is an ancient weapon created by Australian Aboriginal ( Indigenous ) People. It was a hunting weapon. If it hits its target, the prey and the boomerang could be used for the future. In the case of the prey for food, clothing and in the case of the weapon, to be recycled to use again.
If, on the other hand, the weapon missed its target, it would come back to wait until it could be hurled in the future to harvest its prey.
The missed target feels the presence of the mighty warrior that stalks it; the shadow that follows it and it tries to hide in caves and gullies. But it can never rest easily for fear that the boomerang slayer is close behind. Ready to launch the shot that will kill it or, worse stun it.
The stun is the worst shot. The prey is still alive and fully aware that it is about to be vanquished. No, death is preferable to stunning. At least death is a quick kill. But to stun you?? To stun is terror: to come back to consciousness and see the eyes of your hunter staring at you and ready – not to kill you, but to torture you.
Trump is a very skilled hunter.
Read more: Trump - A Story of Boomerangs and the Hunter and the Hunted
I have been moved to write about one of the world's most iconic food staples - the Hamburger. It all started when I read that Woolworths is about to stop purchasing locally grown fruit from Australian canneries and, instead, buy imported Chinese and South African products.
A few years ago, I went down to see my daughter at Redhead's place ( Mum for those of you who don't know that ) and we sat around chatting, yarning on and convened the knitting circle of " Memory Lane. "
It was not your average 4 generational conversation, but we are not your average family. We are a family of strong men. Strong women and very well behaved children. One of the younger generation attended our meeting of the minds. 13 years old. It must have been an eye opener.
We tallked about the architecture of Prague, the failure of the judicial system; the insanity of the vaccine mandates; the lunacy of stirring up racial divides; the rainfall this year and the prettiness of pink shoes.
We moved on to the joy of sharing our lives with pets. We wandered down mossy pathways of memories long forgotten yet resurrected through our shared familial memory.
We talked about the past, the present and the future.
On June 6, 1944, the world witnessed an extraordinary event that changed the course of World War II. Known as the Normandy Landing, or D-Day, it marked the largest amphibious invasion in human history.
The Normandy Landing was the result of months of meticulous planning and preparation by Allied forces. Under the command of General Dwight D. Eisenhower, a multinational coalition consisting of American, British, Canadian, and other Allied troops including Australian, came together to devise an audacious plan. The objective was to establish a foothold in Nazi-occupied France and initiate the liberation of Western Europe.
In the stories from history, certain events stand out as extraordinary displays of human resilience and solidarity.
One such event is the evacuation of Dunkirk during World War II.
Against all odds, the allied forces executed a remarkable rescue mission that saved hundreds of thousands of lives and altered the course of the war. The operation, known as the "Miracle of Dunkirk," remains etched in our collective memory as a testament to the indomitable spirit of humanity in the face of adversity.
It happened early in World War II between the end of May and the beginning of June 1940.
As German forces rapidly advanced through France, over 400,000 Allied soldiers found themselves trapped on the beaches of Dunkirk. The situation was dire, with the enemy closing in and the prospects of escape looking bleak. It was a pivotal moment in the war, and the fate of the Allied forces hung in the balance.
Read more: The Evacuation of Dunkirk - a "Miracle of Deliverance"
I have just spoken with my Mum about my Dad and we have enjoyed a trip down memory lane about Old Times. It is his birthday today and while he is not longer with us, he is still very much part of our lives. As much as he has gone, he is still with us. Everyday. While we, as a family, mourn his passing some years ago, we still celebrate his life.
When it is his birthday or the anniversary of his passing; when I am feeling lonely or in need of guidance or help – I just reach out and lo and behold, a connection happens and I get a FEELING, a wondrous gift… It does not matter who your loved one is – talk with them and share with them. Stay in touch. Keep the lines of communication open .
On my Dad’s important days, I do something I know he would like. It might be eating a “ goodie “ – his term for an indulgence like a creamy doughnut full of real cream and strawberry jam. Later, I must confess, I drink the forbidden fruit of alcohol and overindulge and wake up the next morning telling him it was all his fault…. Strange how he rarely responds to me with an answer on those occasions.…. except to tell me it was my own bloody fault and not to blame him.
The difference between life and death is a millisecond. How can one fraction of a second suddenly dictate that this loving friendship is over? All that has happened is that we have lost the telephone line, the internet or the postal service. We just find a new way of staying in touch.
Read more: When Dad's Wielded Shovels...... and Men Were Men
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