By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
Senior Political Correspondent, Wildlife Affairs Specialist, and Occasional Lamington Inspector
The nation’s political temperature rose several degrees yesterday after Trevor the Wallaby bounded into the Dusty Gulch Press Club’s famous Thunderdome and delivered what observers described as “thirty years of bottled-up frustration at approximately seventy kilometres per hour.”
Read more: Security Review Demanded After Echidna Protests Spirals into Drop Bear Contingency Fears!
Rugby fans know the feeling.
Your team has dominated the first half. They've controlled possession, landed some solid hits, and have the opposition on the ropes.
Then the whistle blows.
Halftime.
The players head to the sheds. The coaches make adjustments. The trainers patch up injuries. Everyone gets a chance to catch their breath.
And sometimes that's exactly what the losing side needs.
That's why I'm looking at the new US-Iran agreement with mixed feelings.
The old saying of " don't let the truth get in the way of a good story " is now pretty much the mantra of the Main Stream Media.
We are living in a time where so many have become the foolish young oysters eagerly walking with those that seek to consume us. The old oyster knew the trap was being set but could not do a damned thing to stop the massacre ahead.
It is clear to me, when reading the poem again after so many years, that the Walrus and the Carpenter were speaking rubbish, yet the young oysters hear without listening to the actual words and ignore the warning signs that everything the Walrus and Carpenter were saying was a sinister trick .
As Simon and Garfunkel sang years ago “ They hear what they want to hear and disregard the rest. “
Read more: Is it Time to Stop Talking About Nonsense? The Walrus and the Carpenter
THE DUSTY GULCH GAZETTE - SPECIAL THUNDERDOME EDITION
HOTBLACK PENJANI CHALLENGES TREVOR THE WALLABY
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
Chief End-of-Civilisation Correspondent
Dusty Gulch has officially run out of room.
Authorities confirmed yesterday that every available seat, standing position, fence post, ute tray, water tower, roof, tree branch and moderately stable rock within 200 kilometres of the Thunderdome has now been occupied.
Officials had originally anticipated attendance of 50,000.
Current estimates place the crowd somewhere between two million and "all of Australia except Canberra."
And the date has not even been set yet.
In an age of civil unrest, burning cities, and bitter political division, the words “Give me liberty or give me death” may sound like a relic, until you realise how urgently they still apply.
As Americans mark 251 years since the birth of the U.S. Army, we’re reminded that the republic was not forged by standing armies alone, but by citizens who stood up when the moment demanded it. The militia - ordinary men with muskets, not uniforms - were the backbone of early American resistance. And today, as debates rage over gun rights, government power, and the meaning of freedom, the Second Amendment is not just about hunting rifles.
It’s a living reminder that liberty has always depended on the courage and readiness of the people. This is the story of Cowpens, of cunning and courage, and of how a ragtag militia helped birth a nation - and why their legacy still matters.
June 14, 1775, marks the official birth of the United States Army - the day the Continental Congress, facing the outbreak of revolution, resolved to unify the scattered colonial militias under one command. What began as a desperate act of survival - organising farmers, blacksmiths, and shopkeepers into soldiers - became the cornerstone of the longest-standing military force in American history.
Read more: 251 Years of the U.S. Army: Why Liberty Still Needs Both Muskets and Discipline
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
Chief Energy Correspondent (Still Not Compensated in Whiskers)
Dusty Gulch residents were today assured there was "absolutely nothing to worry about" after Mrs McFookit's newly opened Asian Fusion restaurant generated enough electricity to power western Queensland, three neighbouring shires, and an unknown object detected somewhere over Windorah.
Today's article will astound you, dear readers.
It certainly left me in a state of shock. And with no whiskers to twitch....
My gob is still smacking. Read on and discover the answer to the strange emergence of the Toad Crisper 3000. All is not as it seemed...
The Great Gift had finally been made.
Everything south of Caboolture - Brisbane, the Gold Coast, and the entire rainbow-flag-waving, kombucha-brewing, protest-marching metropolitan experiment - has been formally handed over to New South Wales.
A note was attached to the Gateway Bridge.
It read:
"Enjoy the house prices, the traffic, and the endless vegan festivals. Love, Proper Queensland."
And that, dear readers, was that.
What remained became officially known as Queensland Proper.
From Caboolture north and west stretched the real machinery of the state: cane fields, cattle stations, mines, fishing towns, the Reef, and enough open sky to make a man question both his significance and his hat size.
The population was smaller.
The hats were larger.
The conversations were shorter.
And the new capital was Dusty Gulch.
Read more: Brisbane Officially Reclassified As Somebody Else’s Problem
Magna Carta's Fading Roots: Why "If It Isn't Broken, Don't Fix It" Still Matters
Imagine a steep hillside covered in ancient trees. Their roots grip the soil, holding the earth firm against wind and rain. For eight centuries, one particular tree - planted at Runnymede in 1215 - has helped stabilise the slope of Western liberty.
Its deepest taproot is the principle that no one, not even the most powerful ruler, stands above the law. We call that tree Magna Carta.
Today, supposedly well-meaning gardeners keep pruning and reshaping it, convinced they are making it stronger.
Yet with each cut, some roots loosen. The hillside trembles. And the old adage whispers its warning: If it isn't broken, don't fix it - because there comes a point when constant fixing becomes the thing that finally breaks it.
Read more: Magna Carta's Fading Roots: Why "If It Isn't Broken, Don't Fix It" Still Matters
When I was sixteen, I sneaked into a theatre to watch a film that would stay with me for the rest of my life.
I was not old enough to be there.
I had pretended to be eighteen.
My older brother took me. He was good like that - aware I would probably find a way to see it anyway, and deciding it was better I did so with him beside me.
The film was Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange.
What struck me was not simply the violence. It was the contrast.
The beauty of Beethoven playing over acts of brutality. The elegance of the imagery sitting beside cruelty so casual it almost felt playful. It was not just disturbing - it was disorienting. My world of innocence was splintered.
In The Child of Nature and Nurture, I described artificial intelligence as very much like a child - born of both its underlying architecture (nature) and the chaotic flood of human data, biases, and incentives we have poured into it (nurture).
The panicked calls to shut it down whenever it misbehaves reveal more about our own unease than about the technology.
In Don’t Blame the Machine, I went further: the machine is rarely the villain. It reflects the programmers, the data curators, the ideologues, and the lazy thinkers who fed it our worst impulses and then acted shocked when it amplified them.
Like Bulgakov’s Satan turning Moscow upside down in The Master and Margarita, AI simply exposes the rot that was already present in the human heart.
So what comes next? What happens when this child reaches adolescence and eventually something resembling adulthood?
Read more: Who Opened the Stable Door? Has the Horse Already Bolted?
In the first two articles of this series, we explored the history of Queensland's sugar industry and the role Sir Samuel Griffith played in shaping its future. Griffith's vision was not merely about growing cane. It was about building a society of independent farmers, thriving regional communities, and economic opportunity spread across many hands rather than concentrated in a powerful few.
His story raises an important question that remains highly relevant today:
How much government is enough?
It may seem an odd question in an age when many of us are accustomed to governments regulating almost every aspect of life. Yet Griffith himself wrestled with this issue. As Premier of Queensland, he was willing to use government power when necessary, but he was equally conscious of the dangers that arise when power becomes concentrated and unaccountable.
The distinction between governance and bureaucracy is critical.
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In an age of civil unrest, burning cities, and bitter political division, the words “Give…
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When AI Grows Up: From Child of Our Making to Something That May No Longer…
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Queensland Sugar, Sir Samuel Griffith, and the Administrative Leviathan Part 3 of the Queensland Cane…
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It all began on a quiet afternoon in our neighbourhood park. Cricket season had ended,…
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In a quiet Australian town, long ago, stood a modest weatherboard house. It had three…
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We recently had a situation where an article was submitted to our blog, and I…
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Once upon a time in the land of OUR country, freedom was a rare commodity. …
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I hesitated before writing this piece. Not because the subject matter is unimportant, but because…
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