The PR Blog

I read an article on Australian media this morning about an older Australian in Broome in a “ home “. This person had maggots in the mouth. Yes, maggots. Crawling, inside the mouth. Creeping out through the lips and this elderly person lay, unable to do a thing, and no one gave a damn.

Please read that sentence again. Over and over again.  Because that is you or your Mother or Father, somewhere, anywhere, in Australia or New Zealand under this set of caring Governments that we now “ enjoy. “

Well, I have had it. I have an older relative, and she – and  I  have determined  that there is no way on this earth that we will ever end up in a so called “ care “ facility. Because there is no care and it is just a facility that keeps bodies alive with no regard for the folk that reside within the failing bodies that they call “ themselves.”

I feel very strongly about this. Abuse of older people in care homes is rampant. They are not care homes. They are “ I don’t give a shit “ homes. I spoke with someone today who visited an older relative in “ care “ and the lady had not had a fresh nightie or a bath in a week. A week. A WEEK.

There is a thunderstorm rolling in. The rumble is in the distance, but it is nonetheless on its way. There is a threat of rain and I keep looking out the window to see what will happen. Do I shut my windows and doors before it hits? Or do I let the breeze come in and enjoy the air that is blowing in from the storm that is brewing? Yet the thunder rolls and becomes louder and I wonder how long I should wait before “ shutting up shop. “

The lightening is just a flash of light on the horizon and the rain merely a scatter. But the storm is coming. And I am unprepared.

I can feel the tension in the air and it makes me wonder if I am about to get a downpour. Am I seeing the start of a storm that no window or door, no fence or lock can resist? I feel that a storm is upon us and it is gathering strength.

All over the western world, the United Nations is forcing countries to accept foreigners who claim to be refugees but are nothing more than economic country shoppers looking for a good deal. I don’t know about you, but I am sick of it.

I am sick and tired of seeing my country damaged and drained of money and our cultural identity because our so called Leaders are too weak to just say “ No. “ What is wrong with them? Why are they allowing and almost encouraging the theft of our heritage and hard fought for sense of Self?

Just look at America. In a few short decades, it has gone from being all about Apple Pie to all about Tacos. In Australia, it has gone from being about a Roast Lamb Sunday lunch to a kebab and hummus – while in Britain the fish and chips has morphed in to a curry take out.

What frightens and annoys me the most is that the City folk embrace this cultural theft and the people in the Country still try to hold steadfastly to the old traditions and values. We are becoming Nations divided and our Governments have endorsed and encouraged this Great Divide.

What the hell do I have to do to wake up from this nightmare? Gay Pride MONTH? Seriously? 1/12^th 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 want to shove their todger up some other man’s rear end and reassure me that it is worth a month of celebration. Fair go. I don’t even like thinking about it, let alone spending a month of my life spreading the love of bottom todgers.

It’s a pretty fair bet that Trump will romp home in 2020 – the Democrats are hard pressed to find a candidate to challenge – unless they do as I suggested back in April that they may bring in a late entrant… but, on the current offering, it looks like a slam dunk. Barring voter fraud, George Soros and the Arkancide factor.

That arkancide factor is the biggie – if Trump ends up committing suicide by strangling himself, shooting himself in the back of the head and then throwing himself in front of a bullet, then America will be in Civil War and the election will be the least of the problems facing USA in 2020.

Assuming my favourite President of all time is able to withstand the hatred, the BS and the mud, he will be President until 2024. But what then?

Mark Zuckerberg, the pasty faced nerdy kid who created a cool place for a family to meet has turned from family friendly to George Orwell’s Big Brother.  He is now a self appointed Minister for Truth and poised to become Mike Myer’s Dr Evil, minus the cat.

Something that started out so ostensibly benign has turned into a drug – not of choice – but of necessity – for millions around this globe we call Planet Earth.  Mark Zuckerberg is a drug pusher.

Like any drug pusher, he gets people hooked and then pounces.