New work for the dole scheme to be introduced in northern Tasmania, local team wins state golf title, Cpt F J Bailey’s adventures, Cagerattler, St Marys Community Health Centre news, Robespierre, Out of the Woodwork, Some Thoughts, FVNH President’s letter, TransBOD update, Suncoast Gallery Artist of the Month, District Guide, Book Review, A Very Special Christmas Present, Lost Pets…
Tag Archives: Robespierre
47.03 June 5th, 2014
St Marys Car Show 2014, Operation Cover-up, Cagerattler, Health in Focus, St Helens Walking Group, East Coast RC Flyers, Robepierre, ‘Pearly Gates’, Dare To Be Different Part 3, sports news, school news, People Poles update, Return Thanks, Labor’s deception on regional hospitals, Spooks and Demons, Community Outreach dinner, St Marys Sport and Social Club AGM notice…
Robespierre
Spooky, possums …
The world abounds with stories of the supernatural, but I guess not to the same extent in the context with animals. Typically, there was a story in Bernard O’Reilly’s books – Cullenbenbong and Green Mountains (ghost story aside, both are fascinating, very exciting, true story reads). Even though both books deal with rural life – Cullenbenbong on the western side of the Blue Mountains in NSW, and Green Mountains in the hinterland of QLD’s Gold Coast – they can be described as pioneer experiences. Experiencing life in virgin settlements and living alongside aboriginals in both places the O’Reillys learnt a lot about the spirituality and mysteries of different tribes. On the Gold Coast mountain plateau (1,300 m) the O’Reillys had to kill numerous poisonous snakes (Black Mamba, I seem to remember) in order to build a cabin. The best access in their first months was via a steep and dangerous track. They had heard that there had been a murder on this track and it was haunted, then discovered it was true. Their horse, pulling a cart or sulky would baulk at a certain point and refuse to continue. Only by careful coaxing with the driver walking and holding the bridle would the horse go past the haunted spot.
Closer to home, a neighbour here on the east coast told us of an episode at his place many years back where he heard running foot falls and voices, and could put the incident down to a certain aborigine being chased by the “Traps” (police) in Tassie’s early days.
Around four years ago we had to put our 18 year old cat, Minnie, to sleep at the vets. The Vet had asked did we want to collect the body. Consistent with our disregard for cemeteries and monuments etc. and that old Min was in our hearts where it counted, we declined. Some weeks to months later, I was sitting in our lounge room, just near an archway entrance from the hall, and reading something. I noticed our 17 year old dog Mishka arrive from the hall and stop in mid stride just near me, but staring straight ahead.
Then, still staring fixedly ahead she took a couple of measured steps and went into Point (like a gun dog, muzzle level and stretched forward, tail raised and level) – and commenced a low growl rumbling up from the throat. I said, “What’s the matter old girl”? – realising she was staring at a vision of old Min, because where she was focusing was where my wife used to have a small rug for old Min’s favourite place right at the end of the settee. As I slowly stood up Mishka barked, and I said “It’s all right old girl, it’s only old Min come to visit”. Instantly, the dog relaxed as the vision must have disappeared. Strange, first feeling when I realised what was happening was a numbing moment of the blood freezing as they say, but shortly after, one of pleasant surprise.
Made me think further on the reverence that people all over the world have for their childhood home. The bond with where they spent their childhood and where they grew up. What made the spirit of the old cat visit? Did I do the wrong thing in not collecting the body and taking it home? I’ve heard bible studying religionists say that such visitations are of the Devil and are brought on by people who delve in mysticism, tarot readings etc. (which I suspect in part, is true). But we don’t do any of that and I was preoccupied with some reading matter at the time. The dog, not me, was shown the vision. A few years later, we made sure Princess the other (14 years old) cat and 17 years old Mishka were planted out the back. All our pets, as in heaps of homes, are extended family. Pets get to know their owners as only the owners know them and the bond is strong, is it not?
Don Pike, Four Mile Creek.
Robespierre
I loved Canley Vale primary school (far south western suburb of Sydney). The teachers; the atmosphere; everything. Well, that may not be quite true because as the saying goes, “nostalgia is a seductive liar”. Nevertheless, there is no doubt they were halcyon days.
Never will I forget old Seedy, our headmaster of some generations. He was masterful (no pun) in organising the willing carpenters & electricians drawn from the local P&C to plan, construct and later dismantle the big outdoor wooden stage that was used year after year for Seedy’s initiated Xmas Eisteddfod. He both surprised and pleased everybody on one occasion, with his welcoming speech to a generous crowd of parents, by declaring that he knew his nickname was “Seedy” (C. D. King).
Aided and abetted by other fine teachers, he was credited for injecting some culture into generations of kids from our rather low socio-economic region. He wrote operettas in which he co-starred with his deep tenor voice, with one of the better girl student voices, and along with the offerings from the various other classes, were always appreciated and enjoyed by everybody. Ahead of its time, the Eisteddfod was really looked forward to as an end-of-year event.
Jacky German and I were jostling to be head of the class queue one day and it got out of hand with promises to finish it after school in the bush on the way home. By then we both had cooled off and were a bit scared, but other kids egged us on so we had to go. The whole thing was pretty even and farcical with just a few hits, but I (accidentally I think) gave him a bloody nose which ended it. Sneaky Teddy Smart was a willing onlooker, but next day he dobbed Jacky & I into the Head. We thought we were going to cop it. Always a quiet and serious presence Seedy instilled respect (and a little fear). He said to us “Well what was it about?” Neither of us wanted to admit to the stupidity of the matter and said we didn’t know. He said “What! You’re funny men aren’t you? not knowing what you were fighting about? Go on then, and don’t come before me again”.
The following, and last year at primary school, he was my class teacher. One day he must have been having a wearying time, I don’t know, but a repeat year pupil sitting at the back of the class had played up. Seedy stood up and roared Lunn! come out here! – went to the back of the blackboard and drew out a fair sized cane and flayed poor old Lunny two of the best. I’ve never seen Seedy upset about anything, but he was more upset than Lunn, I think, because he apologised to the class for having to do it and told us that he loved us all.
Mr Johnson, a big, portly man who taught us 16th century English songs like Strawberry Fair –(“rifol rifol, tol de riddle rifol, rifol rifol, tol de riddle dee”). Bored stiff with these dirges we would sing, (not too loud), “eyeful, eyeful, come and get your eyeful” to break the monotony. And “Trees”! “Why do we have to have songs like that” we thought. I still find myself singing them to myself, today. (I love ‘em). But old Johnno was a wonderful bloke. Girls and boys alike considered him number one. He called his cane “Excalibur”. Felt sorry for him later when the kids were trying to press Johnno into being sports master (making life difficult for him, too, as he made clear to us).
Names still in the memory bank – Miss Hartman (kindergarten), Miss Sturgess, Mrs Bogg – (I was perpetually late – “Oh, come on Pike. Better late than never”). On the way home from school at the Xmas break, I saw her give her own copy of the class photo to a kid that missed out, exemplifying the entrenched teacher standard – the kids first, us last. They were family.
And even the sports master Harper, the unpopular disciplinarian, showed me another side to him. One day in the playground – “Pike, do you like hundreds & thousands”? – I faltered on answer (had never heard the term) – and he presented me with a cup cake. The stupid little things that stick?
They were all pleasant, inspirational people.
The years 1947 – ’49 at Liverpool Technical High School might have been viewed as some sought of penance. I hated the place. My eldest brother who did some of his prac. teaching there, said that it was common belief of fellow teachers that the morale of students and teachers, alike, was abysmal. But the place had metal & woodwork. I enjoyed learning to do stopped tenon and dovetail joints and some basics in metalwork. The librarian taught us the Dewy system and attracted us to the world of books. I forgive him becoming exasperated with me with my turn at reading to the class. Coming to “plateau” – I struggled with the french word, with ‘plat – eh – ay – you” and then “plat –ey – you” until the Librarian cut in with “plat-oh, boy!! Plat –oh” !! Well, it’s not my fault that the French muck around with bits of the old Gaul. Ridiculous language, the French think it’s all poetry and flowers but it can be just as silly as English, ay!
To be continued… The saga of teacher/brother kidnapping me to get my Intermediate and the world that opened up for me without it.
Don Pike, Four Mile Beach.
Robespierre
Think Tanks … some of their roles in our lives.
Think Tank is the name given to an international Bank owned/run Institute (or other org.) that engages in activity to further the agenda and interests of international Bankers, Multi & Trans National companies. They have unlimited funding and are well entrenched, worldwide. Some leading names are Tavistock, Sydney Institute, HR Nichols Society, etc. They adversely affect our lives on many fronts; from programming the teaching of Political Correctness (“Rights” of the child, sex education etc.) into our learning institutions, to introducing policies & legislation for our Governments to emplace.
They network an army of writers & intellectuals in the community to constantly follow up various planned populous “issues” to draw, distract and captivate the public attention away from unsavoury real issues, policies and agenda on which Banksters (banks/gangsters) are active. These quisling operatives can be high profile TV and journalist presenters, but large numbers are drawn from the community at large. Whether high level operatives working at preprogrammed misinformation propaganda, psyop agiprops, “tar blacking” of key individuals or groups that are problematic to governments or just writing misinformation to further sales for some multinational, they all, by and large, are NOT working for your best interests. They are criminal in effect and in most cases, intent.
All this is known in the more esoteric public circles and certainly to ALL politicians. All of the above, of course, is headed up by the P.I.G. (Permanent Invisible Government), shadowy power brokers who run Think Tanks and your life.
And because our political “System” is so deeply entrenched, any hint of opposition to the evil, is carefully managed by a compliant media and friendly “government” departments. Australia Post at the last, and previous elections, refused to distribute fliers for some Independents. At the previous elections, one man on a senate ticket in N.S.W. paid them $25,000 to post fliers. They failed to do so, and the last I heard was that they even refused to refund.
On more subtle, but fundamental ways Think Tanks create campaigns with media compliance, moulding population ideals and thinking and furthering agenda and matters already in place – or preparing (conditioning) people to accept another level of chicanery.
Double standards are an integral part of this, eg. while one TV channel is telling us about our “rights” in “graded” levels of violence and inviting “reporting” of public concerns, other channels are showing blatant porn. The confusion is intentional and part of the acceptance of societal degradation. The general objective is to destroy all levels of moral standards and religion and accept uninhibited decadent behaviour as the norm.
Nothing really new here. All been done before, except not many noticed. But it IS new to a couple of generations of malleable youth, preoccupied with team & sport mentality, high fives and heaps of Americanism. So this is my little bit for my country and kids everywhere………. More later.
Don Pike, Four Mile Beach.
Robespierre
Look out! ..politicians are on the rise… ‘tis the season to be Pollie … tra la la la la.. la la la laaa!. Do we care? I mean, there really hasn’t been any kind of political track record to engender “care” in any of us for the past forty years. Why is that, we sometimes wonder? We all know the extraordinary promises at pre-election time, only to see policies and promises revised, reversed or deleted after, or even before, the election. Why is it that politicians seem so increasingly blatant at lies and deceit. Has political morality declined along with that of society? I’m sure it has. Societal degradation is due to the lack of meaningful leadership, and although the cause is connected, political morality is due to another reason entirely. The bible text “Mammon is the root of all evil” well encapsulates the problem. Christ wasn’t talking about money per se, he meant the love of money and materialism. The wanting of more when you already have a lot. (We won’t even talk about the love of Control). And here is the nub of our political, and consequently, our societal decline. We, as individuals, are in there somewhere, too.
Local and state government politicians, business and corporate members are often involved in complicity but most people have no understanding as to the depth of evil at the Federal level. International Banksters (banking gangsters) and the big movers and shakers in the business world virtually run our Federal government, holding sway on not only the heavier items of legislation and direction, but on micro matters that affect our daily lives. The Banksters operate through their “Think Tanks” (named) that have unlimited funding, are well entrenched throughout the world and pass directives onto our Federal parliamentary executive. I’ve heard them referred to as the P.I.G. (Permanent Invisible Government) and these shadowy people control our lives beyond our imagination. Politicians are there now to do their bidding – and mostly to our detriment.
From mainly the Keating days, politicians have signed away our country’s future in thousands of international trade agreements without our permission and, in some cases, our knowledge. Globalism and Free Trade have changed our country’s political and social landscape as it has done all over the world. We’ve lost most of our rural and manufacturing capability as a result. The resultant shocking unemployment situation has been bandaged over to some extent with fill-in useless jobs conjured up by the Think Tanks and emplaced by parliamentary minions. Thousands of small family-owned businesses and rural holdings have gone. Real capability to continue apprenticeships in every field of endeavour has disappeared.
For many years now, the problem for current politicians and new cadre coming in, is conform, or go! And they all, generally, stay and do what they are told in well-paid careers. So instead of genuine representation for the people, we get puppets controlled by Big Money puppeteers. And the parliaments and elections become Punch and Judy shows for the people. They are meaningless, because the reality is from decisions made from the minders behind the scenes. The depth of machinations by the Think Tanks is frightening. From monopolised media, to emplacing socialist professors into our universities to assist in the smooth running of public brainwashing, to the manipulation of education curriculum from the kindergarten up, they mould, control and direct public thinking to suit their own agenda. There is much more on the subject.
The foregoing is but a rough, and very limited summary of why all parties, and Independents, are coloured the same. Nobody is game to table demands to put things back in place that were hard won over the years by real politicians (some puppets were around then but the control was not like it is now!) Off you go now and vote, because it’s the law! “Democratically” enacted, of course!
Don Pike, Four Mile Creek.