By Roderick “Whiskers” McNibble, Senior Correspondent (and dance adjudicator)
Crikey, mates and matesses - you’d think a town as small and conspiratorially aware as Dusty Gulch would be immune to scams by now. But no. Once again, Maurice EDuck and Prentis Penjani, those two smooth-talking prophets of piffle, have reminded us that Australia is out for a duck because Trump knocked it out of the park.
Dusty Gulch is still recovering from last Friday night’s spectacle at the Dusty Dingo, where Trevor the Wallaby took to the bar ... literally ... to debut his brand-new titanium knees. He stomped, he twirled, he Riverdanced and Appalachian-clogged until the sawdust lifted. The crowd roared, the jukebox shorted, and old Mavis from the CWA clog dancing committee fainted into a keg of Emu Brew beer. It was a night to remember.
But just as the knees were warming up, so too were the rumours. Word reached the Dusty Dingo Pub that the shiny new metal in Trevor’s legs came from Dusty Gulch itself .. or rather, from the soon-to-be “Critical Minerals Extraction Zone No. 47,” recently approved after the historic handshake deal between President Donald Trump and Australian Prime Minister Magoo.
Intrigued? You should be. This is a tale that could wag the tail off a rat living in a wombat burrow, reporting news to the world via carrier galah and orange biplanes fuelled by whiskers dynamic propulsion......
Read more: Trevor the Wallaby’s Titanium Two-Step and the Great Rare Earth Rush
I have often pondered why mankind decided to go after the humble whale. After all, the whale was out there, in the ocean, minding his or her own business and wasn't really causing any problem. Unless you were a seal, krill or plankton. In which case, you probably had a civil rights claim or two.
Yet this gentle giant ( as far as humans are concerned ) was not bothering anyone. All the whales wanted to do was what they have done since God first had a great idea " I think I'll make a whale. " and the whales just cruised around, having babies, blowing bubbles and migrating to warmer places and having a jolly old time.
So what did the poor whale do to us? Well, let me tell you a whale of a tale and how the Industrial Revolution saved it.
There’s a new chorus echoing through Canberra: “Critical minerals will secure our future.” With fanfare and funding, the Albanese government recently sealed a multi-billion-dollar deal with the United States to ramp up Australia’s role as a key supplier of rare earth minerals - the elements that power electric vehicles, wind turbines, smartphones, and missiles.
On October 20, 2025, President Donald Trump and Prime Minister Anthony Albanese shook hands at the White House, creating a glittering new partnership - the U.S.–Australia Critical Minerals Framework.
It all sounds like the perfect marriage of mutual interest - until you look beneath the polished policy language.
We stopped teaching goodness. Now we’re living with the consequences.
There was a time when Sunday School was part of almost every child’s life. In the early 1960s, one in seven children under fourteen went every Sunday to hear Bible stories, talk about God, and learn Christian values. We put on our best clothes and headed off to join our friends in fellowship and safety - in a place of love.
The idea of Sunday School began in 18th-century England. Robert Raikes, a Gloucester printer and philanthropist, saw the suffering of child labourers in factories and mines. Their only day off was Sunday, so he created schools where they could learn to read - first the alphabet, then the Bible.
As Raikes said, “Vice could be better prevented than cured.”
In an Australia grappling with division and a search for identity, it’s time to rediscover Andrew Barton “Banjo” Paterson - not merely as the poet of Waltzing Matilda and The Man from Snowy River, but as a patriot, horseman, and wartime contributor whose life speaks to the strength and unity we need today.
Known for turning the bush into verse, Paterson’s lesser-known story - his wartime service, shaped by a childhood injury that left one arm shorter than the other - reveals a man who overcame limitation to serve his country.
His legacy, from training horses for the Light Horse Brigades to penning poems like We’re All Australians Now, offers a blueprint for rediscovering national pride in 2025.
Read more: Rediscovering Banjo: The Poet Who Taught Us to Be Australians
Filed by: Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Senior Correspondent, Dusty Gulch Bureau
It’s been a curious sort of week here in Dusty Gulch - the kind of quiet that makes you think something’s up. The ghosts of Banjo Paterson, Ned Kelly, and Henry Lawson left town some time ago, promising to return, and not a whisper since. The Dusty Dingo gossip circle’s been silent, McFookit Burgers has been ticking along without incident, and even the bin chickens have been strangely absent.
Jeffrey Epstein remains in the freezer behind McFookit’s - for “historical preservation,” according to the CWA - and Trevor’s knees, having been temporarily confiscated during the first equal rights uprising, are awaiting reinstatement pending CWA approval. All in all, Dusty Gulch was as settled as a cat waiting for a zoomie episode at 3 am.
Then we heard the sound.
Eighty-one years ago this week, in October 1944, a tall, thoughtful barrister from Victoria gathered representatives of non-Labor organisations in Canberra. Australia was weary from war, yet filled with resolve. Robert Gordon Menzies stood before them and spoke not of polling or political marketing, but of character. From that meeting, the Liberal Party of Australia was born.
Menzies’ vision was not merely to defeat Labor - it was to build Australia. He sought a political movement anchored in principle: in the dignity of work, the sanctity of family, and the belief that a free people could govern themselves best when guided by decency and duty.
He called them “the forgotten people” - the middle Australians who raised families, paid taxes, volunteered on committees, and asked little more than a fair go and honest leadership. They were not ideological warriors or professional activists; they were the quiet architects of the nation’s character.
Read more: Menzies and the Liberal Party’s Lost Soul: Where did our Moral Compass go?
On the evening of October 12, 2002, the peaceful tourist destination of Bali, Indonesia, was thrust into chaos as one of the deadliest terrorist attacks in Southeast Asia unfolded.
A series of bombings rocked the popular resort area of Kuta, leaving a path of destruction and horror in its wake. The attack killed 202 people, including tourists from over 20 countries, with the largest contingent being from Australia.
The event not only devastated families but also sent shockwaves across the globe, marking a critical point in the fight against terrorism.
Much like the devastating attack on America only a year earlier, the Western world received a warning shot across the bow. So what did we do? Hell, we opened the door wider.
It’s hard to understand how our governments could be so naïve - seeing the rise of global terrorism and deciding the best protection was to show how tolerant and open we could be. It was almost as if they believed that goodwill alone could shield us from evil. Like a dog that’s been beaten and then goes back wagging its tail, we seemed determined to forget the lesson.
Read more: The Night Bali Burned — and What We Failed to Learn
Queensland and much of northern Australia are overrun with cane toads - an invasion so vast that most people have forgotten how it all began.
Back in 1935, someone had the bright idea to import these warty warriors from Hawaii to deal with beetles chewing through the sugar cane. The toads were meant to be heroes. Instead, they became villains.
Three thousand of them were released into the cane fields of North Queensland, hailed as a scientific solution to a farming problem. But the experts failed to predict one small detail: the beetles they were meant to eat lived on top of the sugar cane, and the toads couldn’t climb.
Read more: Cane Toads: The Gift That Keeps on Hopping - An Analogy
Some time ago, a young boy visiting Redhead’s house asked to use the “dunny.”
The word made me smile, but it also reminded me of something more serious: toilets are about dignity. In light of the current debacle over trans rights to use female only bathrooms, it is a subject that should be brought out of the closet and considered in ALL of its implications.
Throughout history, access to safe, clean sanitation has shaped public health, social inclusion, and personal freedom.
Women and girls, in particular, have long suffered when facilities are inadequate - forced to “hold it” in fear of unclean or unsafe restrooms, putting themselves at real risk of urinary tract infections (UTIs) and long-term health problems.
From Roman latrines to Victorian innovations and modern schools, the story of toilets is a story of human progress - and one worth telling. So off we go....
Read more: How Toilets Shaped Our Health, Habits, and Humanity - Is it Time to Give a Crap Again?
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