If you fancy that your people came of better stock than mine,
If you hint of higher breeding by a word or by a sign,
If you're proud because of fortune or the clever things you do --
Then I'll play no second fiddle: I'm a prouder man than you!
If you think that your profession has the more gentility,
And that you are condescending to be seen along with me;
If you notice that I'm shabby while your clothes are spruce and new --
You have only got to hint it: I'm a prouder man than you!
If you have a swell companion when you see me on the street,
And you think that I'm too common for your toney friend to meet,
So that I, in passing closely, fail to come within your view --
Then be blind to me for ever: I'm a prouder man than you!
If your character be blameless, if your outward past be clean,
While 'tis known my antecedents are not what they should have been,
Do not risk contamination, save your name whate'er you do --
`Birds o' feather fly together': I'm a prouder bird than you!
Keep your patronage for others! Gold and station cannot hide
Friendship that can laugh at fortune, friendship that can conquer pride!
Offer this as to an equal -- let me see that you are true,
And my wall of pride is shattered: I am not so proud as you!
Henry Lawson
He was born in an insane age. He crept stealthily through the dense scrub, avoiding cliches of the mind but searching, as always, for a solution to all his wants. Needs. Desperate yearnings. An insane soul; desperate for contact, stability, a way forward which did not require great sacrifice. He could see so many things on the move; down far away across spectacular views. Time to move on, a cheerful voice said, harrumphing the horses on the long night trek. A distant boom, regular, sinister, momentous, could be heard a long way off. You've failed, that's all there is to it, a voice said; and while he looked at the glistening lives of overs there was no soul here. He smiled, a grimace across broken teeth. He looked up cheerfully at his master. The whip came down of its own accord.
He had been beaten so badly that he cringed throughout life, avoiding conflict. He couldn't be the lone soldier standing up for their destruction. He could see shells moving deep beneath the water's surface. The salt air spoke of ancestors. The drum beat spoke of primitive times. His head siwlred, the quest was a broken, desperate one. I hope you have the gift of desperation, some loud woman said. American accent. He was not surprised to later hear her say: I'm only here for a few days, I cause trouble wherever I go. He didn't speak to anyone. His misery was not theirs. They shouted and shouted, these voices, and all he could think was how much he wanted to be back in the bars; the sharp tang of whisky or bourbon, the sign that he was serious. Oblivion, the Byronesque quest.
But whatever lashings had been placed upon it, whatever fancy, justification, rationalisation had been used to justify past behaviour, it had all disappeared with the days rolling one on top of the other. The quest was just wrong. His desire to settle was strong; but was it here? Could anyone be so kind? Or so lonely? He could feel the loneliness around his mother's house, around all the women in their eighties. He could hear the voices of discontent, of longing. But it had all passed away. Another generation had taken up the mantle. They looked like fools, like old hippies, stuck in old habits, smoking when they shouldn't, thinking they were still young and there was an infinity of life before them.
The suburbs settled, and it was the loneliness that frightened him the most. They were seen as dark ages. They were seen as juvenile times waiting to grow up. He had been badly ripped off at Tambar. After a rush of blood to the head after receiving his payout he had commissioned a local bloke to sand the floors. Jason. Unknown to him the bloke wasn't the carpenter he appeared, but yet another denizen of the area, Mullawy in this case, the town with little but a garage and a pub, on the disability pension. They all wanted cash to avoid getting dobbed in, but after having paid taxes for the past 30 years he felt like dobbing him in to Centrelink. He had been thoroughly and totally ripped off. He rang up to cancel the arrangement at the hardware yesterday, only to discover that the nasty little prick had just put another $200 worth of supplies on to his credit card. The whole thing had cost more than $5,000. It had been a very very expensive mistake.
And because he wouldn't pay the final amount until the job was done, refused point blank, a fight had erupted, with Jason cornering him in the pub and threatening to knock his block off and chainsaw his house. He wouldn't feel safe there anymore, and would have to get a dog, preferably a rottweiler that would tear any intruder's head off. And then, unbelievably, Jason had nicked his laptop out of his car; supposedly in case he didn't get paid. He should have gone straight to the police. Instead, hating conflict and not naturally drawn to the authorities, he got in his car and drove out of town, checking the rear vision mirror for hundreds of miles, hoping he wasn't being followed, although of course it was unlikely, they were all too lazy, that mob, to do anything at all.
I'm going to knock your block off and chainsaw your house, Jason threatened; and when he declared he didn't like being threatened he said: "I'm not threatening you, I'm just telling you the facts maaaannn. You've come to the wrong area." Let the gronks take over. Let the thugs rule the planet. Let disease enter our own tiny souls; and let the past rule. So he got in the car and he drove and he drove; wishing all the while he had followed his first instinct and called the police. The c... can go and die. They can chase their own tales in their own boring world; and watch, watch, from the pub veranda, as the sun slowly sets and the evening sounds of the bush took over from the day's sounds; passing trucks, the wind in the trees.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/nation/abbott-rubbing-the-shine-off-rudd/story-e6frg6nf-1225826538393
THE all-important net satisfaction rating for the respective political leaders from Tuesday's Newspoll tells an interesting story. While Tony Abbott has not started as strongly as previous Coalition leaders Brendan Nelson (+17) or Malcolm Turnbull (+25), in just a couple of Newspoll results since his arrival Kevin Rudd's net satisfaction rating has fallen considerably.
The take out of this is that Abbott is not popular, but his brand of opposition politics is nevertheless succeeding in taking the shine off Rudd.
In the past three Newspolls, Rudd's net satisfaction rating -- derived by subtracting the percentage who describe themselves as dissatisfied from those who are satisfied -- has fallen from 26 to 18 to 12, and Abbott can take credit for the slide. At its peak, Rudd had a net satisfaction rating of 57 and his average during Turnbull's time as Liberal leader was more than 30 (Turnbull's fell to -33). Rudd's rating is almost half what it was when it was at its lowest during either previous Liberal leader's time in charge.
Much of the commentary about Abbott has been that he will provide a sharp contrast to Rudd. That contrast appears to be making voters think twice about Rudd's deliberately bland bureaucratic style, which is not as appealing as it once was.
http://www.carboninsight.com.au/?gclid=CN7WvKWN158CFZAwpAodoTAiZg
THE Government will tear into Tony Abbott's climate change policy today after a departmental analysis challenged its calculations and concluded it would actually cause greenhouse gas emissions to rise.
The analysis, prepared by the deputy secretary of the Department of Climate Change, Blair Comley, says that rather than reduce emissions by 5 per cent by 2020 as the policy claims, it would lead to an increase of 13 per cent.
Mr Comley, an economist who was instrumental in designing the Government's emissions trading scheme, says the Coalition policy underestimates the cost of each tonne of carbon for which taxpayers would pay businesses that reduce emissions.
On Tuesday, Mr Abbott unveiled a policy he said would cost $3.2 billion over four years and more than $10 billion by 2020.
At its core is an emissions reduction fund worth $2.6 billion over four years.
Polluting businesses which chose to reduce emissions could apply for grants from the fund and they would be paid between $10 and $15 for each tonne of carbon they saved.
The departmental analysis says the claims made about the fund ''are subject to very large margins of uncertainty over both cost and [greenhouse gas] abatement''.
http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/barnaby-joyce-stumbles-over-billions-in-climate-policy-funding-explanation/story-e6frg6xf-1225826449371
BARNABY Joyce has stumbled over arithmetic in his first performance as opposition finance spokesman, confusing trillions with billions at the National Press Club.
And it has prompted Finance Minister Lindsay Tanner to tell The Australian Online: “If Senator Joyce wants to be the Commonwealth's chief accountant he needs to learn his billions from his millions.”
Under pressure to explain where he would find the $3.2 billion required to fund the Coalition's climate change policy, the former accountant said he was “up to that task” of finding $3.2 billion in savings from $1400 million.
"Let us look at the cost of this policy, we are looking at $3.2 billion over the next four years. We have expenditure over the MYEFO statements, if I'm correct of about $1.4 billion, that we're going to spend,'' he said.
"The Labor Party is about to spend 1400 million dollars. So I think I can find 3.2 from 1400, I really do, I think I'm up to that match. That is approximately .2 of 1 per cent. That's capable.
“Well, you know we've got $1.4 billion worth of Labor (spending) sorry 1400 million dollars.
“So we've got 1400 from which we need to find 3.2. I think I am up to that task, I really do.”
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