Imagine a world with no government.
I have to wonder: would that be such a bad thing? Government has not been our friend for some time, has it?
When we think of anarchy, the image that often springs to mind is one of lawless mayhem, a world without rules or structure. Anarchy is defined as a state of society without government or law. Political and social disorder due to the absence of governmental control.
Which brings me to today's topic. That of anarchy. Selective governance and the shadow world between anarchy and governance. For that is where we are.
These days, we are living in parallel societies. Where the rules only apply to those who follow them. The rest? Hell, it is open season for lawlessness.
When you think about it, it is almost as if our governments want to piss us off. They are doing absolutely everything they can to make the masses so angry that we will rise up and say " No. No more. "
" How about we start with stuffing the country up by bringing in foreigners from different countries? "
" Let's really make it interesting and make sure that they have absolutely nothing in common with the people who live in the country. the most important thing is that they are as different as possible to the citizens. Different ethnicity, different culture, different religion. Anything goes as long as it is the opposite to the current population. "
My father passed 9 years ago on the 4th of August. Just before dawn the other night, there was the hint of a thunderstorm. Not big. Just a rumble in the sky and some distant lightning.
Mum ( Redhead) lay snuggled in bed with her male Manx cat ( his sister was sound asleep on Redhead's magic massage chair ) and he purred and asked for a reassuring rub on his belly and a kiss. A nudge from his head to remind her that he was there.
It took me back to the days when Dad used to wake up in the early hours and ask Redhead " Would you like a cup of tea? " and they would sit together and chat and enjoy the dawn hours together, with a nice cup of tea. Those early morning hours, before dawn, when the world was still quiet and full of hope and expectation of a good day.
For so many of us, our early mornings are precious. The world is born again in a new day.
Read more: Manx Cats, Love, Loyalty and Devotion. Oh, and Dawn. We Cannot Forget Dawn.
When Kamala Harris catapulted to the top of the Democratic ticket, one might have anticipated her policies and opinions to be the most likely topics for discussion. While some of these issues have cropped up in the media, oddly, the most heavily discussed subject regarding the vice president has been her laugh. Some are vociferously defending it; others wonder aloud what’s so funny.
The only reason such a topic would rise to the forefront with so many disparate opinions is that there is something strange about it. When Mrs. Harris was just the vice president, her unusual laughter was noted and derided. Now, with the prospect of her becoming president of the United States, it’s more concerning. And the chatter is only increasing.
When I was a young child, I read a book about overcoming adversity. Back in the 1960's adversity was something that meant more than being called names. It was something that challenged body mind and spirit, all at the same time.
June Opie, born in New Zealand in 1924, is remembered for capturing the human spirit’s resilience against one of the most feared diseases of the 20th century—polio. Polio, or poliomyelitis, was a highly infectious disease that could cause paralysis and even death. During the first half of the 20th century, polio outbreaks were frequent and devastating, particularly affecting children.
Opie was diagnosed with polio in 1947 while she was in England. Her life changed drastically when the disease paralysed her, leaving her unable to move or breathe on her own. At the time, the medical response to polio was limited, and for many, a diagnosis meant permanent disability or death.
Across the Tasman, in Australia, a young self trained Nurse, had an idea.
It was derided. Yet she persevered. Both women fought adversity and never used a Diversity, Equity or Inclusion card. No. They were strong, spirited fighters. They fought. Here is their story.
At dawn today (30th July) mid-winter in sunny Queensland, it was zero degrees on the lawn outside our kitchen and the small water tub for our chooks was iced over.
Every morning, as soon as it gets light, Judy puts a winter coat over her jamas, adds gloves, glasses, rubber boots, a beanie and a walking stick (icy grass is very slippery). She then trudges down the hill to check any new-born lambs and then lets the sheep out of their dingo-proof night-camp into their paddock for the day. As soon as they are let out, they dribble into a long line and, led by the wisest old ewe, they wend their way across the frosty flat and then make their way up the hill to the highest point facing the morning sun.
The term "the sport of gentlemen" is most commonly associated with cricket. This phrase reflects cricket's origins and the culture of fair play, respect, and sportsmanship that traditionally surround the game. One such sportsman who displayed all of these qualities was Sir Don Bradman.
He belonged to an era when being a sportsman involved sportsmanship. Unlike so many men who identify as women and seem hell-bent on destroying sportsmanship along with fair play and display so much of that thing that gives truth to the words " It just ain't cricket. "
Playing by the rules is about decency and being a gentleman. And while being a " gentleman " as a term can be deemed in today's insane woke world as ' sexist " .... being a gentleman is so much more than a word. It is a code of living. A rule book for Life if you will. And there are no loop holes in a gentleman's rulebook.
With the latest debacle over the opening of the Paris 2024 Olympics, I find myself looking back to when we could, as Nations, do it and do it right. Politics has always been part of the game,but there was a time when the competition was fought out on the playing field, not the media.
The Olympic Games were held in Melbourne between 22nd November and 8th December, 1956. The first time they had ever been held in the Southern Hemisphere.
Australia’s sporting prowess was well known world-wide through the triumphs of our tennis players and cricketers but when it came to Olympic sports we were virtually unknown; despite our success in all Olympiads since the inception of the modern era.
The simple fact was that generally speaking Olympic sports were not huge spectator sports in Australia so the world wondered what this little nation of 9 million people and 170 million sheep at the bottom of the world was thinking about when it had the audacity to apply to stage the Olympic Games.
Read more: A Trip Down Memory Lane - the 1956 Olympic Games in Melbourne
We the people, all around the world, just witnessed one of the most morally bankrupt and depraved displays of woke exhibitionism that it is possible to have endured. What were the organisers of the Games thinking? Our young children and grandchildren sat wide eyed watching images of mockery and ridicule beamed across the planet. Men mocking women, people mocking the Christian faith and laughing at our love of normality.
What a disgraceful insulting and horrific way to " celebrate " the so called leading sports event in four years. No wonder the organisers are frantically removing videos of this appalling orgy of debased exhibitionism. They dishonoured the Church, the women and men and the children. In fact, they celebrated the downfall of humanity.
Is this what we have come to? Satanic rituals beamed across the world?
I have to ask the question: What comes next?
Read more: Going Woke and Going Broke is not just about Money... It is Morally Bankrupt as well
It was many, many years ago, we went horseback riding. In true style, Redhead ( Mum, now aged 92 ) approached this task with true grit. She had never ridden a horse since her childhood. Like most of us in the " club. "
A friend of mine went horseback riding . Up a beach on a sunny Queensland day. She trotted, galloped and felt the wind in her hair as she and her friends celebrated a birthday of a man now in his 78th year. '
It must have been glorious. A group of friends celebrating the joy of life on an open beach in the sunshine and leaving the cares of the world behind.
And it took me back to a day, about 50 years ago, when Redhead rode a horse and her bra strap broke. I republish this today for those who never read it last time. Enjoy my tale about the day my 92 year old mother was Bodicea.
Read more: A Story about Big Bright Bouncing Beautiful Boobs... and a Horse Ride
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