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Away with you Jack Frost, say eager gourmands in quest of warmer times which by tradition yield a cornucopia of gastronomic adventures. Enough now of broths and heavy fare that sticks to your ribs, as mother would say. Titillate your senses with something clean,  something naughty but nice—an adventure if you please.

Those who don't find food and the partaking of it a sensual experience are missing so much. Ponder, for example, the artichoke, a vegetable that can evoke a lascivious mind to a licentious act with a fervour no other vegetable can possibly summon, except for the phallic asparagus already covered on these pages.

Imagine this scene: A sultry Saturday evening. Friends gathered around the table harmonious in chatter. A candle flickers gently. The wine is mellow and coolly refreshing. The first course is served, an artichoke. Its leaves are perfectly manicured and mute green in colour. Much like the patina of antique copper on ageing church spires. Nothing set on a white plate could be so richly Mediterranean.

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In the realm of motorcycles, few names evoke as much passion and nostalgia as Indian Motorcycle and Harley-Davidson. Both companies have established themselves as icons, representing the embodiment of American motorcycle culture. However, the journey leading to their present-day status was paved with remarkable engineering challenges, pivotal historical events, and ingenious marketing strategies. 

It was the ultimate battle between the Cowboys and the Indians. And today, we have the same situation with political parties: ignore your base at your peril. 

So here is my story about motorbikes, Cowboys and Indians and how our modern politicians could learn a thing or two from the battle between Indian Motorbikes and Harley Davidson. 

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At the end of WW2, America had about 6,000 merchant ships. Today it has about 100.

Merchant ships are the lifeblood of international trade and commerce and even more so to island nations like England, Australia and New Zealand. They are also vital to the well-being of otherwise self-sufficient nations like the USA and Canada.

In 1941, England was the victim of an all-out drive by Germany to deprive Britain of its lifeblood of imports without which it could not feed its people. In a speech in 1940 Winston Churchill magnified the extent of this danger when he said that at any given moment 2,000 British merchant ships are in transit on the high seas. The losses of ships sunk by German submarines was huge and Churchill appealed to America for help. In 1941 alone Britain lost 1,300 ships sunk by German U-Boats.

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In military history, there are countless tales of bravery, valour, and unwavering dedication from soldiers who fought on the front lines. But what about those fearless felines who have prowled the battlefield, armed with their whiskers and lethal claws? Yes, you read that right – cats in combat. These purr-sistent warriors have played some truly remarkable roles throughout history, and it's high time we give them the recognition they deserve.

Back in ancient Egypt, cats were revered as sacred creatures. Their role in combat was a bit unconventional, as they served as morale boosters for Egyptian soldiers or in Japan where they were mighty foes. Imagine this: a battalion of brave warriors ready to conquer the world, flanked by felines who were more interested in chasing after scarab beetles than the enemy. 

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When I think about horses in times of war, it is hard not to immediately think about the most famous horse of all: the Trojan Horse.

I must admit that I have always found it strange that the Trojans couldn't have been the sharpest knife in the drawer. They fell for a trick that even the most naive of us would have yelled most loudly " Don't do it! " But, you see, we never see the hidden " rats "  that scuttle in when the gates are opened.  

Still, perhaps times have not changed so much: we still appear to let the enemy in, don't we? 

But, of course, the real war horses from history were not made of wood. They were heroes and served alongside their mates as earnestly as their human masters. 

So today, I want to pay homage to the brave horses and the dogs who served us so well in times of war and perished in piteous circumstances. They were among the mightiest of the mighty and dear and trusted mates.

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Banjo Paterson is the giant of Australian literature and folk law. His exploits in this field are so extensively well documented that I would not presume to add to them. However, in modern Australia, perhaps it is time to start celebrating people like him again.

What is less well known than his poetry is his contribution to the war effort in WW1 and to a much lesser extent The Boer War. His contribution to the successes of the Light Horse brigades was outstanding.

Banjo Paterson was a newspaper correspondent intermingled with a legal practice. When the second Boer War broke out on 11th October, 1899 Banjo was a member of the NSW Lancers and sought to sail with the first contingent for South Africa. He was rejected for active service because he had only one good arm. He was well connected with the Fairfax family and asked to be sent to South Africa at his own expense for one month to serve as a war correspondent. One month was the limit of his financial resources.

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The problem many of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders we speak to have continuously raised with us is that under Native Title the land is locked up and can’t benefit from it. That’s about half of Australia locked up under Native Title and held with the government. Is it any wonder the United Nations is so interested in Native Title?

The white and black aboriginal industry consists of lawyers, consultants, activists, academics, politicians and bureaucrats. They all claim to be ‘closing the gap’ between Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders’ standard of living and other non aboriginal Australians. The fundamental flaw in this system is that those running the industry are parasitically living off the money that is given to the Aboriginal communities. It is a self-perpetuating problem.

Every year the billions of taxpayers’ dollars poured into solving the problem is being syphoned off by the same individuals who “claim” to be helping. Very little of the money makes it through to those in need.

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“Chilling out” in the Australian outback is a getaway from the banality of political machinations. 
Never before have there been none so many and so bloody crazy. In the world of IT, “chilling out” is akin to deleting the mind’s hard-drive—purging the brain of superfluous spam, returning speed and clarity of function—I think!
Enjoyment is assumed, sans permission, and like a welcomed holiday, enjoyment comes easy when right is at one.
Remarkably, from the murk of urban profanity perception is aroused, simply by sitting long enough, and patient enough to observe simplicity itself.

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When war broke out on 3rd September, 1939 there was no mad rush of support for the causes espoused by Britain or for Poland and other occupied European countries. Americans were very much of a mind to remain out of any European war. There was no universal feeling of kinship towards Britain and there was, in fact, quite a lot of sympathetic support for Hitler.

The second most common language spoken in the USA at the time was German and to cap it all the Neutrality Act prevented any engagement, let alone involvement, by Americans with any belligerent country. That included Britain and France as well as Germany.

Amongst all that however, there was a core of sympathetic support for Britain and an eagerness by those who had learned how to fly to enter the fray. Among the various means of getting around the rigours of the Neutrality Act was to cross the border into Canada and proceed from there.

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It was September 15th 1940 . An auspicious day. The Allies had faced enormous adversity In June 1940; the Wehrmacht had overcome most of Western Europe and Scandinavia. 

At that time, the only major power standing in the way of a German-dominated Europe was the British Empire and the Commonwealth.

There had been dark days and days that were increasingly full of light from the daylight raids on Britain from the German attacks that were set to test the resolve of the British people. 

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The Prime Ministers of Canada and, most recently, New Zealand, have assured their nation’s citizens that they had never forced anyone to get vaccinated, despite their years-long, well-documented support for vaccine mandates.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Prime Minister Chris Hipkins are joined in their eleventh-hour rewrite of history by Pfizer executives who said in a recent Australian Senate hearing that “nobody was forced to have a vaccine”.

As citizen journalist Rebekah Barnett has quipped, “We are at the ‘no one made you take it, it was your choice’ stage of the pandemic.”

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