The PR Blog

Has the dust settled? 

Far from it. It is everywhere. We are choking on it. The storm cloud comes in many forms: inflation, learning losses, ill-health, high crime, non-functioning government services, broken supply chains, shoddy work, displaced workers, substance abuse, mass loneliness, discredited authority, a growing real estate crisis, censored technology, and overweening state power. 

For that matter, consider that Easter, the day to celebrate the Son of God’s triumph of life over death, itself was canceled for public worship just four years ago. That actually happened. Not even at the height of World War II was there a consideration of such a thing, or even canceling baseball. When the idea was suggested in a famous movie script, Spencer Tracy asked “Why would you abolish the thing you are trying to preserve?” (Woman of the Year 1942). 

Good question. What precisely was the point of the hell we went through? Who did it and why? Why did it last so long? Why has there been no official accounting?

This Easter, we are praying for a miracle and a rebirth or resurrection where good triumphs over evil and hope is restored and justice and commonsense prevail.

At least that is how I feel. 

Over the centuries, we have learned so much about the strength of the human spirit. That incredible ability to triumph over adversity, whether it be physical, emotional or mental agony... or all three at once.

As Easter approaches, so too is the concept of war uppermost in our minds... it seems to loom ever more ominously on the horizon...... that conflict that drives us to delve deep and draw upon reserves that we often did not know we had. 

People speak so frequently about Easter being about death and rebirth. About struggles that can wear us down yet somehow, the miracle of the human spirit can come out the other end and rejoice that all is not lost.

Let us hope that 2024 yields this outcome. But what is it that drives us onward? 

This is the dramatic story of how an eccentric environmental speculation grew into a powerful global scare industry; it is the story of the corruption of science, the defrauding of taxpayers, the destruction of reliable energy, the bullying of anyone who dares question the narrative and a hidden agenda for shortages, rationing, environmental destruction and global control.

The film exposes the climate alarm as an invented scare without any basis in science. It emphatically counters the claim that current temperatures and levels of atmospheric CO2 are unusually and worryingly high. In fact, we are currently near the end of a warm interlude in an ice age and there is no evidence that changing levels of CO2 (it has changed many times) has ever 'driven' climate change in the past.

Comedy is hard because wokeism has moved almost beyond satire. This has required me to take seriously Melbourne’s Enterprise Professor Bruce Pascoe, the ABC’s favourite Aborigine. For example, he’s been advocating that we meat-eaters cut planet-wrecking CO2 emissions by gathering roadkill for the table.

My 500th essay went up on Quadrant Online last week, all searchable on my public archive. Years ago I had in mind retiring at the 500th, but doing these things is a nice hobby for an 83-year-old in his lean and slippered pantaloon, so I’ve re-set the target to 1000.

My first QO essay was on January 30, 2012, titled, “Sinking, sinking not: Tuvalu”. Climate lies are so entrenched that in my 501st essay 12 years later, I’m still pointing out that Tuvalu’s area is expanding.[1] Even Russ Skelton’s RMIT/ABC Fact Check has joined me to combat the ‘drowning islanders’ meme. My piece included some mirthy material from the 2009 Copenhagen climate conference:

People who live lives that are out of the ordinary run the risk of being hailed by succeeding generations as legends, and of having the most intimate details of their lives scrutinized. All of us leave public records that may in the future be used to piece together our lives for better or for worse, though at the time we never consider that possibility. 

Big Brother and others have tabs on us even in death. Hannah Glennon, ‘Red Jack’ of horse breaking, droving and bush racing fame, would no doubt be totally perplexed by the interest shown in her today, as she never sought fame. She would also be horrified by the public airing of her dirty linen (she was a laundress at one stage) gleaned through official records; such, however, is the price of fame.