The Halftime Question

Rugby fans know the feeling.

Your team has dominated the first half. They've controlled possession, landed some solid hits, and have the opposition on the ropes.

Then the whistle blows.

Halftime.

The players head to the sheds. The coaches make adjustments. The trainers patch up injuries. Everyone gets a chance to catch their breath.

And sometimes that's exactly what the losing side needs.

That's why I'm looking at the new US-Iran agreement with mixed feelings.

The old saying of " don't let the truth get in the way of a good story " is now pretty much the mantra of the Main Stream Media.

We are living in a time where so many have become the foolish young oysters eagerly walking with those that seek to consume us.  The old oyster knew the trap was being set but could not do a damned thing to stop the massacre ahead.

It is clear to me, when reading the poem again after so many years, that the Walrus and the Carpenter were speaking rubbish, yet the young oysters hear without listening to the actual words and ignore the warning signs that everything the Walrus and Carpenter were saying was a sinister trick .

As Simon and Garfunkel sang years ago “ They hear what they want to hear and disregard the rest. “

Crowd Visible From Orbit • Starlink Activated • Scientists Concerned

THE DUSTY GULCH GAZETTE - SPECIAL THUNDERDOME EDITION

HOTBLACK PENJANI CHALLENGES TREVOR THE WALLABY

By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
Chief End-of-Civilisation Correspondent

Dusty Gulch has officially run out of room.

Authorities confirmed yesterday that every available seat, standing position, fence post, ute tray, water tower, roof, tree branch and moderately stable rock within 200 kilometres of the Thunderdome has now been occupied.

Officials had originally anticipated attendance of 50,000.

Current estimates place the crowd somewhere between two million and "all of Australia except Canberra."

And the date has not even been set yet. 

In an age of civil unrest, burning cities, and bitter political division, the words “Give me liberty or give me death” may sound like a relic,  until you realise how urgently they still apply.

As Americans mark 251 years since the birth of the U.S. Army, we’re reminded that the republic was not forged by standing armies alone, but by citizens who stood up when the moment demanded it. The militia -  ordinary men with muskets, not uniforms -  were the backbone of early American resistance. And today, as debates rage over gun rights, government power, and the meaning of freedom, the Second Amendment is not just about hunting rifles.

It’s a living reminder that liberty has always depended on the courage and readiness of the people. This is the story of Cowpens, of cunning and courage, and of how a ragtag militia helped birth a nation -  and why their legacy still matters.

June 14, 1775, marks the official birth of the United States Army  -  the day the Continental Congress, facing the outbreak of revolution, resolved to unify the scattered colonial militias under one command. What began as a desperate act of survival -  organising farmers, blacksmiths, and shopkeepers into soldiers -  became the cornerstone of the longest-standing military force in American history.

THE DUSTY GULCH GAZETTE

EXCLUSIVE ENERGY BREAKTHROUGH EDITION

MRS McFOOKIT OPENS FIRST ASIAN FUSION RESTAURANT

Power Prices Collapse as Toad-Based Fusion Reactor Achieves Critical Curry

By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
Chief Energy Correspondent (Still Not Compensated in Whiskers)

Dusty Gulch residents were today assured there was "absolutely nothing to worry about" after Mrs McFookit's newly opened Asian Fusion restaurant generated enough electricity to power western Queensland, three neighbouring shires, and an unknown object detected somewhere over Windorah.

Today's article will astound you, dear readers.

It certainly left me in a state of shock. And with no whiskers to twitch.... 

My gob is still smacking. Read on and discover the answer to the strange emergence of the Toad Crisper 3000. All is not as it seemed...

A Dusty Gulch Gazette Special Report

By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Chief Constitutional Rearrangement Correspondent

The Great Gift had finally been made.

Everything south of Caboolture -  Brisbane, the Gold Coast, and the entire rainbow-flag-waving, kombucha-brewing, protest-marching metropolitan experiment -  has been formally handed over to New South Wales.

A note was attached to the Gateway Bridge.

It read:

"Enjoy the house prices, the traffic, and the endless vegan festivals. Love, Proper Queensland."

And that, dear readers, was that.

What remained became officially known as Queensland Proper.

From Caboolture north and west stretched the real machinery of the state: cane fields, cattle stations, mines, fishing towns, the Reef, and enough open sky to make a man question both his significance and his hat size.

The population was smaller.

The hats were larger.

The conversations were shorter.

And the new capital was Dusty Gulch.