As our world descends into a chaotic shadow of its former moral self, I have been thinking about finding a way out of this maze of cancel culture, identity politics, sexual dysphoria and narcissistic self gratification. Our governments are herding us into lockdown, exile and social isolation whilst assuring us that it is for our own. good. So many people are happy to receive an unemployment payment, sit home and take selfies - as long as there is food and drink and a roof over their heads.
Yet the sage words of John Steinbeck and John Calhoun are increasingly in my thoughts these days. Will we ever find our way out of this maze?
Read more: Mice and Men - warnings and portents to ponder
Almost 200 years ago this expression was first used … “bolt hole”.
It has a few meanings, … a hole in an animal's den, or through a wall or fence, used for escape or emergency exit; i.e. a hole the animal may bolt through, or (figurative) a second home, etc. where a person can go to escape the stresses of everyday life.
If you are suspected of being a bit naughty in Australia, your mates in power can spy on your social media and email accounts and you won't even know it. By " you " I mean "us " and this makes me feel a bit uncomfortable and dare I say violated.
Seriously, have we truly come to this? Being spied on by our federal police if they suspect that we are up to no good?
From sleepless nights to stubbed toes and nightmares, tangled hair and sniffy noses, Mum always had a remedy. Yet these days, governments are preventing mothers from doing what Mums do best - loving and caring for their children without stifling their ability to grow and thrive.
Rapidly approaching the big NINE O, along with many others at the same stage of life’s interesting and sometimes troubled journey, I should be relaxing contentedly with friends and relations, enjoying the mind boggling range of new sights and sounds and knowledge not previously encountered, reliving with them the many wonderful experiences of past years, rejoicing in the journey to maturity of children and grandchildren who have grown up so rapidly, having left behind the childhood years seemingly in the blink of an eye … and yet …
When I was a lad, life was simpler, harder yet straightforward and honest. As the world is flooded with newfangled gadgetry and newfangled woke spoke, I find myself looking back on the post war years with a strange regret. Life is so newfangled that it is a complex place of ever-increasing innovation, and gratitude for the simple things in life is a far distant memory. We should consider how imprisoned we have become in this newfangled world which has rewarded us with so much and yet taken even more by stealth.
Read more: I remember... when newfangled stuff didn't exist - summer wine was not some whine
Yesterday, I saw a photo of a little red wren and I smiled. That pretty, delicate little creature was hopping about doing what it does best and it seemed blissfully unaware of what the world seems to think it is confronting. It was so nice to smile again.
I see images of cats and dogs, romping, sleeping, enjoying the sunshine and the joy of life and that magnificent wonder of being alive.
How the hell have we humans got it so wrong?
1942 was the most terrifying year in our history. It was the one and only time that our country was under serious threat of invasion. We have never been, before or since, poised on such a knife edge as we were when Singapore fell and Darwin was bombed. Not just Darwin. It got the publicity. What about Broome, Wyndham, Townsville, Newcastle and Sydney? Prominent figures like PM Curtin, Gen Macarthur and high profile others got the plaudits but none of them saved us from a Japanese invasion. There are three men who did.
This is such a cliche, yet today, it is more true than ever before. I have been asking myself a lot these days " why do our governments and media want to divide us? ". All I can think of is that through division we will fall into disarray and become weak. What astonishes me is how easy it has been for " them " to carry out their mission. But I keep coming back to our old mates " who " , " what " "where " "when " and most importantly " why "
Read more: United we stand, divided we fall - is it time for a Eureka moment?
Tragedies are meant to be tragic, right? No one told London’s Globe Theatre, whose ‘Romeo and Juliet’ adaptation comes with a warning of suicide and drug use and advice on counseling. The Bard must be spinning in his grave.
Listen, you woke idiots, with your pointless qualifications in the art of navel-gazing and insatiable urge to reassemble history through a 2020s lens, please just stop nannifying the world.
Stop.
Marianne Faithfull famously sung that at the age of thirty-seven, Lucy Jordan realised she'd never ride through Paris in a sports car, with the warm wind in her hair. It’s taken me a lot longer, being more than twice that age, but I’m on the same page. I used to care a bit, but I don’t give a rat’s arse anymore (No offence intended Esra).
When you think about it, we are all so insignificant in the whole scheme of things, any achievement, no matter how great and earth-shattering it may seem at the time, is illusory. You only have to ponder that it takes 200,000 years for light from a distant star travelling at the speed of light, which is about 300,000 kilometres per second, to cross our galaxy, and there are as many galaxies in the universe as there are grains of sand on all the beaches in the world. The magnitude of it all is too large to grasp.
In May 1942, as Japanese forces surged southward across the Pacific, Australia stood on the…
220 hits
When a nation loses its voice, it turns to memory. In these strange days, when…
352 hits
Factional ferrets, backstabbing bandicoots, and the great Teal tango - how the Libs turned on…
125 hits
In an era where technology dictates much of our daily lives, algorithms have become the…
322 hits
When you cast your vote, you’re not just selecting a candidate; you’re choosing the kind…
281 hits
When news broke that Australia had declared war on New Zealand, most assumed it was…
315 hits
Beneath the swaying trees and the green grass of Norfolk Island lies a brutal chapter…
346 hits
In a world that seems determined to teach us to hate our countries, I remember…
347 hits
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble In a stunning turn of events, Peter “Cooker” Fookit - who…
398 hits
For nearly three decades, the Port Arthur Massacre has been remembered as Australia's darkest day…
574 hits
Who pays the Ferryman? In the old myths, no soul crossed the river Styx without…
319 hits
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Special Correspondent for Ratty News Roderick Whiskers McNibble here, tail fluffed…
378 hits
Each war seems to produce its own under-appreciated heroes who, for reasons that have nothing…
427 hits
Just before dawn on August 7, 1915, the men of the 8th and 10th Australian…
414 hits
It is not often that a hero can also be a larrikin and vice versa.…
363 hits
On ANZAC Day we remember the fallen, the brave, the heroic. But behind every name…
389 hits
Magic happens everywhere and goodness, wonder and delight can be found alive and well throughout…
183 hits
How many people around the world have been warning about the danger we are in? …
195 hits
Two names. Two battles. One legend. At Chunuk Bair and Lone Pine, ANZAC soldiers faced…
524 hits
It has been truly said that Australia arrived in Gallipoli as six separate States and…
397 hits
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Investigative Reporter Extraordinaire The Ratty News Foreign Desk | Special Report…
437 hits
There are men who live great adventures and there are men who write about them.…
434 hits
When life collapses and the weight of grief threatens to bury us, we have two…
434 hits
He was short, wiry, and came from the dusty outskirts of Clermont in rural Queensland.…
527 hits
As the sun rises on another ANZAC Day in less than two weeks, and an…
311 hits
Some memories shimmer in the mind like a heat haze, half mischief, half magic. This…
305 hits
For over five years now, this blog has grown into more than just a place…
299 hits
In a stunning turn of events, Roderick “Whiskers” McNibble - microphone-wielding rat and founding fur…
417 hits
How did it happen? How did a failed artist and fringe political agitator rise from…
360 hits
What happens when the battlefield goes silent....but the war doesn’t end? When soldiers come home,…
491 hits
John B. Calhoun’s “rat utopia” experiments of the 1960s, designed to be paradises with unlimited…
332 hits
Throughout history, religion has been hailed as a guiding light, a beacon of morality and…
398 hits