Thursday, November 8, 2018


Vector leaflet created using clenched fists raised up, megaphones equipment and engineering cog wheel element. Dictatorship and manipulation theme, totalitarianism as the evil power. Stock Vector - 87433028
It's been around for a while, probably throughout recorded history: Propaganda - the gift that keeps on giving. Rulers have always needed ways of keeping the ruled from wandering off the reservation.  When some other ruler was giving trouble, or the ruler wanted to cause that ruler trouble, it was hard going without having the subjects on side. Nasty things needed to be said. After all, it would take clever manipulation to convince a man to leave his humdrum but relatively comfortable groove and march off into cannon fire and bayonet charge for something that lacked any real advantage to himself.

Propaganda worked equally well in revolutions. Who for example with any solid historical knowledge would believe that Marie Antoinette ever actually said something as crass as "let them eat cake" when informed of the lethal shortage of bread. Trained from birth to take her place in royalty, she would no doubt have learnt something about noblesse oblige - nobility obliges, or put another way, with great power and privilege goes responsibility - a duty to care about one's people. For those living in a poisonously cynical age of "liberal democracy" in which our "leaders" deserve all the cynicism that can be mustered, it's difficult to believe that royalty once took this responsibility seriously. But if wanting to ginger up the rabble even more than they'd already been gingered, did a possibly more effective tool exist with which to do it? It was a gem, a benchmark, a Shakespeare to every budding writer. Possibly, who knows? if that embodiment of callousness had never been attributed to her, Marie may have even kept her head. 

After Gutenberg invented the first true printing press in the fifteenth century and, like all new technology, it started becoming cheaper and thus more available, just about anyone with a cause could amplify his voice exponentially. So began the era of the pamphleteer, able to produce usually succinct, hard-hitting literature cheaply. Extremists of both the left and the right with pamphlets as their dueling weapons could fight it out to their hearts content. Obviously, exponents of graffiti had been doing this since the advent of written language - the Pharaoh's a dickhead! But naturally this could in no way match the sophistication and reach of the pamphleteer.    

Printing presses of course also opened the way to mass produced newspapers taking advantage of the freedom of the press, albeit, as is often said, the freedom  of those who owned the presses. This was probably the point at which the power to mould public opinion began to resemble the awesome mind-bending potential with which we are familiar today. It was also a greatly enhance vehicle of the political cartoon, the message of which could be instantly understood by even the most plodding of readers. They were highly effective and still are.  Witness the hounding to an early grave of our own late, great Bill Leak who, even after his death, suffered the indignity of having those under whose skin he'd gotten dancing on that very same grave.

During World War 1, the British showed themselves to be true masters of the art of propaganda posters and cartoons. It was of such high quality and so effective - the British public fully believing German soldiers were storming through Belgium bayoneting babies for sport - that a certain Doctor Joseph Goebbels, so impressed by the efficacy of this propaganda, determined to employ a new and improved version in Round 2, or as it was called, World War 2. He was greatly aided in this by the radio being by now an item to be found in most households.

Of course the other side wasn't standing still in this propaganda arms race. It was in fact warming to the task with tall tales of the industrial disposal of  European Jewry with elaborate touches such as the lampshades made out of Jewish skin, soap made out of Jewish fat (perhaps slim pickings from those said to be so emaciated) and blood bubbling up from mass graves like the oil of the Beverley Hillbillies.

There was though a stark difference between the British propaganda of the war to end war and the Allied propaganda of the war to follow: the Brits, after the guns had stopped smoking, and being the good sports that they were, came clean and admitted that all the beastly things they'd said about the "Hun" had been complete bullshit. All's fair in love and war, eh chaps. However, no such retraction was made after Germany was left a smouldering, smashed ruin in 1945 and millions of its citizens allowed to perish in the ensuing "peace".

The reasons for this aren't all that difficult to understand. Between fifty and sixty million (although vastly overshadowed by the supposed six million - the former being merely goyim) had perished in an easily avoided war, one that would have remained a border dispute, a localised war, or at worst the probable clash between National Socialism and Stalinism, with the latter being a ten to one on loser. That being the case, history would have taken a different course: Eastern Europe would not have disappeared into the Soviet maw and Korea, Vietnam, and Red China with the concomitant loss of millions of lives would not have happened. No, far better to forever sing the praises of "the good war" and the defeat of the blackest evil ever to appear outside of Satan's kingdom. Naturally enough, Adolph Hitler, as the demented Anti-Christ determined to take over the world and rule it as his personal fiefdom had to be kept alive for all eternity. The History Channel does a bang-up job of this. Even if, for argument's sake allowing that the six million were actually hurried off this mortal coil, he was nowhere near in the same league as  Stalin (60,000,000) or Mao (45,000,000 in just the four years of the Great Leap Forward). If the truth be known, even Pol Pot (1,800,000 or around a quarter of the Cambodian population) would make Adolph look like a rank amateur. But of course these mass murderers weren't killing the Chosen, and in the case of the Soviet Union, it was the Chosen doing most of the killing.

Affiche over de Vrede van Versailles

The "Holocaust" (patented with a capital H) was though the gilt edge guarantee of the so-called good war, even if every other justification for Britain and France declaring war on Germany fell apart like so much rotten timber, not to mention the idiotic guarantee given to Poland which could not be backed up and in the final wash-up Poland suffering the even worse fate of being gobbled up by the Soviets. But that was quietly forgotten about.

Zionists managed to contain their glee over the suffering of their fellow Jews - and let's not forget who was co-operating with Hitler in getting Jews from Germany to palestine - but would be hard-pressed to deny that it was a gift from God ("the one god", their exclusive god, meaning of course that non-Jews are therefore godless, soulless and mere "cattle").

What better demonstration was needed of plague-like anti-Semitism than the attempt to do away with the entire Jewish "race"? And of course Zionists need anti-Semitism like alcoholics need alcohol. How else to keep the Jewish sheep corralled than the permanently instilled fear of totally unfounded and irrational hatred of them by the Goyim? Why before you knew it, the dear, innocent souls would be wandering off to intermarry with the other that they'd found to be not so bad after all. The Jewish people hadn't survived for more than three thousand years against all odds just to see that happen. NO SIREE!

As a bonus that couldn't be matched by a million combined quiz shows, the Zionists won Israel. No Holocaust - no Israel. But it didn't stop there. There were fabulous compensations to wrenched  out of Germany as well as Swiss banks to be shaken down. And there was so much guilt, wonderful, beautiful guilt, a basement full of guilt as big as Scrooge McDuck's basement full of gold - and gold it was. There was more than enough to go around. Why not share it around to those not directly responsible for the roughing up Jews had experienced during the war? First up, there were all those Germans who claimed to not know what was happening (as well as the Red Cross who were regularly visiting the "death camps"). Ha! They knew all right, those "willing executioners" of Hitler.

And so the ripples of guilt spread. What about those countries, even though they were destroying the persecutors of the Jews, refused to accept Jewish refugees? It was about time they accepted their share of the guilt. On further thought, the Jewish experience during the war was simply the tip of the iceberg. It could not have existed without the support of the nine tenths hidden underwater, that is, the perennially existing, forever lurking anti-Semitism endemic to the West (Western Christiandom).

This could be fairly pinpointed as the beginning of the phenomenon that has come to be known as "white guilt". It was this point that the West began to veer off in a direction radically different from its course throughout the millennia. Good would become bad, healthy would become sick, abnormal would become normal, self-preservation and love of one's own would become "hate". In short, everything which had been believed in throughout the west was stood on its head. How could this have happened in little over half a century?

A certain astute Marxist political thinker named Antonio Gramski, being infinitely more realistic than other Reds of his time, accepted that the industrialised west, where the workers had never had it so good, was not going to crumble before anything as unsophisticated as a Bolshevik style revolution. No, several orders of magnitude more of sneakiness was required. He visualised a Marxist takeover being slipped in through the backdoor, and aimed at the power-points of western society - what came to be called the march through the institutions. A certain group of Jewish Marxists that would come to wear the tag of "the Frankfurt School", running away from the National Socialists to set up shop in New York decided this was an excellent strategy and began implementing it. And the cunning bastards actually pulled it off, showing once again what a tightly organised, supremely ethnocentric group, which thinks only of its own tribe, can achieve in the midst of an unsuspecting, atomised society. They went straight for the jugular - the universities. The rest would be easy.

This was necessary but not sufficient. Much more was needed to turn the west into the cesspools we see today. In Goebbels's day, master of propaganda that he was, he was limited by the relatively primitive tools he had at his disposal - basically radio and newspapers and film, still though in its infancy. Today, a plethora of media is available with which to control people's minds, with television being king of the castle and cinema being also highly effective in its subtlety, devilishly clever when used as it is - most people believing they are simply being entertained. Now here's the 65,000 dollar question: who owns most of this media? No, forget the sixty five grand. There's no prize at all. The question is far too easy.

A polite term for propaganda is "public relations" and the so-called father of public relations was Edward Bernays, a nephew of Sigmund Freud. The man was an artist and studied human nature so ardently he learnt just about everything to know about what makes them tick, and what buttons to press to have them obeying like robots to his every suggestion. You can imagine the fabulous wealth he amassed from advertising. But of course the exact same methods used to sell products can be employed to sell ideas, political and social.

Part of what he learnt about human psychology was that, because people are social animals, the  "herd instinct" that exists in other pack animals exists just as strongly in humans. One of the strongest human instincts is the need to belong, exile being one of our worst primal fears. So we go along to get along. If the herd changes direction, we don't want to be left hanging. We're also imitative but we have little desire to imitate losers and nobodies. We much prefer to imitate people with status. Ever wondered why film stars are paid small fortunes to say they use a certain shampoo or beauty aid. To the rational mind, it doesn't seem to make a lot of sense. But it's not the rational mind being targeted; it's the not so rational unconscious.

Now what if high status individuals such as university professors, politicians, churchmen and others of inescapably high profile were promoting and repeating with hypnotic beat certain ideas, even if those ideas clashed markedly with the ideas previously held? (It goes without saying that these ring-leaders first had to be trained.) Who wants to be the Lone Ranger? Who wants to be exiled?

A never ending debate is who had the most accurate vision of the dystopian future we are entering, Aldous Huxley or George Orwell? It's a toughy. I'm sitting on the fence but my legs are hanging on Huxley's side. Orwell had the surveillance side of the story down pat. One only has to look at London with its from home to work, from work to home being followed every step of the way by CCTV. Many other world cities are not far behind.

China is currently experimenting with facial recognition technology which can tell which citizens have been good and which citizens bad. "Social Credit" has been given a new meaning by the CCP. Each citizen is given the same number of points to begin with as if in some kind of game. For every good action (perhaps praising the Party) points are added, for every bad action (littering, for example) points are deducted. Lose too many points and one becomes a kind of non-citizen effectively immobilised in home detention. Western governments affect to be scandalised by this development but behind the pretence they are no doubt watching closely, thinking, what a good idea.

Image result for image of george orwell

It is Huxley's appreciation of the advantages of subtlety over brute force that gets him over the line first. The denizens of the Brave New World are, for example, encouraged to cavort endlessly in Bacchanalian sexual couplings - the distraction par excellence. Sound familiar. It may be the most appealing of distractions, but it's just one of the myriad keeping us blinded to who's pulling the strings. In fact, so distracted are we, we don't even know there are strings. The foolish brave new worlders believe they are living in the best of all possible worlds - because that's what they have been cleverly taught to believe. Are we really any different? It's as if, before Huxley even began writing his book, he'd come across Goethe's famous quote:
"None are so hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free."
Image result for image of aldous huxley

The mind-benders of today, being the miracle workers they are, are almost worthy of admiration. After all, look at what they've achieved: they've convinced the majority of the whites of the west that it's a good thing to give away their countries without a shot being fired - unprecedented in world history. Whites under their spell now believe that the poison of multiculturalism is "enriching" and not fragmenting their homelands. Mass immigration of the third world into the first world, thus converting it into the third world is viewed with contentment. Miscegenation, seen when the west was still healthy as a crime against nature, is robustly encouraged and millions of white idiots are dutifully doing their part. White genocide, a crime so enormous it defies comprehension, is not even believed to be being committed. Homosexuality is healthy and normal - let's share the love. It is selfish heterosexuals who are now suspect. And how about three cheers for the deadly scourge of Feminism sinking the white birth rate to below replacement levels.

Cui Bono? Who benefits from this catastrophe upon catastrophe? Or, to ask the perennial question, is it good for the Jews? Is it good that the people so loathed and feared by the Chosenites are being destroyed? You can bet your arse it is. Don't believe me? Then simply take a squiz at the Babylonian Talmud. Not enough time? Then the Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion might have to suffice. Oh, I forgot - it's a forgery. Strange though how everything predicted in it came to be realised. 

Sunday, October 28, 2018


Fraser Anning during a press conference at Parliament House in Canberra. Picture Gary Ramage

Senator Fraser Anning is a loose cannon once again in the Australian Senate after being kicked out of Bob Katter's Australia Party. The good news is that, now an independent, free of party strings he is entirely his own man and able to say what he wants - not that being a party member really hampered him in that but at least he will not be tied down by having to toe any party line. 

More good news is that after the recent furor of his having the temerity to state that a ban should be put on Muslim immigration and, further, all immigration should be returned to what it once was, that is, from similar or the same racial stock as it originally was (gasp!), and now after his being punted from his second supposedly nationalist party - the first being Pauline Hanson's One Nation, the concomitant publicity has blown him out of relative obscurity into national prominence. Incidentally, Hanson expressed as much shock and disgust at Anning's opinions on immigration (what have they done to you dear?)  as the entire politically correct parliamentary brigade who, en mass, wore expressions befitting a man who had been caught by surprise by a particularly sad fart in a crowded elevator. 

This entire episode in indicative of the parlous state to which we have descended. Here is one lone voice in the supposed house of the people's representatives, almost Canute-like, trying to turn back the tide, warning of the fate we are being herded toward - a fate worse than national death: national suicide.

Katter himself swings like a weather vane. He initially supported Anning to the hilt. "Solid gold," he said of the man and his opinions. But now  his support has obviously wilted like neglected celery. Curiously, in the meantime he has come out strongly in support of gun ownership. To justify his stand he claims the country needs men with rifles who know how to use them in case of attack by a foreign power (true, and the source of some comfort when in the forties when the nation was transfixed by the possibility of a Japanese invasion). However he goes further by saying the country also needs guns in case of attack or attacks by an internal enemy although he doesn't name this enemy - as if he had to. So, boiled down, Katter thinks banning Muslim immigration an egregious violation of human rights, but appears to harbour no such scruples when it might come to shooting Muslims. Oddly enough, this seems to have flown over the MSM radar, normally as sensitive to out-of-bounds play as an electron microscope.

But it's really not all that difficult to work out the real reason Katter has dropped Anning like a used sanitary pad, a man he had a short time earlier likened to a nugget of pure gold. Included in Anning's "inflammatory" statements about immigration were the words, "final solution", as in a final solution to our problem of population replacement, but of course a certain tribe began shrieking and wailing because of the their associating Anning's phrase with that used by the Third Reich in regard to the final solution of the Jewish problem - die Endlosung. This, naturally was beyond the pale (no pun intended). In lockstep, Australian parliamentarians, well aware of who never to upset, no matter what, joined the same dots. 

Back to Katter. He is obviously fully aware of what the highest per capita immigration (of non-whites) in the world is doing to Australia, as it is intended to do. "As a race," he had bravely and astonishingly stated at the pinnacle of the brouhaha, "we are being buried by immigration." But by the same token, he is obviously totally clueless about who is ultimately responsible for the burying of the entire west by this strategy as evidenced by his rushing to paint himself as just as much of a philo-Semite as his parliamentary buddies. Oh, how we are suffering also because of this outrage, although suffering as we might we'll never be able to suffer like you who have turned suffering into an art-form. 

Of course it's impossible to know whether Anning has a greater insight into this phenomenon than these clowns but one suspects he does, or at least hopes he does. One can only hope he is the odd man out on this ship of fools. And yes, he is only one man but, as is said about lotteries, if you don't buy a ticket ....

Write and give him your support:
Senator Fraser Anning
GPO Box 228
Brisbane, Queensland
Australia 4001

Thursday, August 2, 2018


It's strangely warm for a Saturday night only two thirds of the way through winter. The city seems kissed by a zephyr from a balmier clime

The line of cops strung in front of the International Conference Centre looks intimidating and not in the mood for any nonsense. A posse of cops on the backs of their sleek and disciplined mounts standing to attention in a formation nearby look equally capable of zero tolerance. A fleet of police cars, including some of the mobile prison cell type, amplify the police presence. All this apparently without the outrageous price tag of $68,000 (aka protection racket) attached to an identical event by the commissars south of the border. (That's Victoria, not Mexico. However, it's sometimes referred to as Mexico by people north of the border.) But not a demented red-ragger in sight. Oddly disappointing. Welcome to the Sydney stage of the Molyneux/Southern roadshow. Spectacular Darling Harbour by night is a fitting location.

Inside the opulent Conference Centre, entrance to which is only allowed after having one's printed out ticket photographed, the security is airport grade. In fact, after placing all ones metal possessions and wallet in plastic basket and being subjected to a metal-detector scan, it's oddly reminiscent of being about to board a plane. Possession of a Swiss Army Pocket knife has this particular attendee sent on the long march back to the cloak room where the cloakers scramble to find a sticker small enough to match it with the issued ticket. Perhaps just a tad over the top. But then again, we  live in interesting times.

The walk to the designated auditorium, about as big as the concert room in the Opera House, again engenders a faint feel of air-port deja vu, taking as long as it does.

Inside the auditorium, filling up fast, one immediately feels the cosiness of a "safe space". It feels almost like a gigantic family reunion, which in a way it is - we are about 99 per cent members of the Anglo-Saxon-Celtic race, which of course is the next step up from an extended family - one held together by "the crimson thread of kinship". It goes without saying, this is nowadays a rare situation, the odd exception perhaps being a first grade Rugby League game - one in which Canterbury/Bankstown (a heavily Islamised area) is not involved.

Right on the dot of eight o'clock, the MC welcomes all to the event and announces the imminent appearance of Stefan Molyneux, who, when he strides onto the stage, thunderous applause explodes. The reaction is one normally associated with a movie star or rock idol.

Pacing back and forth (as he'll do for the next hour, clocking up perhaps half a K, all the time faithfully and expertly followed by a camera throwing the much larger than life image of him onto the screen behind him) he cracks his first joke, of which there'll be many. He's a well balanced combination of entertainer and bearer of a deadly important message. "Did you have any trouble getting past the protester?" he asks. Mirth rocks the audience. If spirits were higher, the roof would be lifting.

But down to business. This is an Australian audience so Stefan naturally enough cuts from the general to the specific, that is, issues specifically Australian. A a trained philosopher, the sharpness of the Moyneux intellect and his ongoing life as a scholar is immediately on display as he demonstrates the research he's done on one of the most dangerous fault-lines in the life of the nation: bitter, never ending Aboriginal squawking and weeping over "injustices", exploiting to the hilt the Australian version of pathological white guilt and self-hatred. This mess needs serious analysis and deconstruction, something of which  Stefan immediately proves himself to be eminently capable.

He begins to address a question that would have occurred to any thinking Australian: Is Aboriginal failure including living in "third world conditions" sufficiently explained by laying one hundred percent of the blame on white racism? Could perhaps a more compelling answer be provided?

Stefan begins to provide it. His homework has obviously included researching Aboriginal mythology. Every race has had its mythology. It has been a necessity. Humans have always needed some way of understanding and explaining their world. The difference though between Aboriginal mythology and all others is that the latter have always been superseded by  enquiry that has always followed doubts that perhaps total and ultimate truth has not been attained. Molyneux cites perhaps the greatest thinker of all time - Socrates who in his humility conceded that he knew very little, perhaps nothing at all. Naturally to be able to plan a journey, one must be sure of the starting point. This was Socrate's starting point from which he could move closer to truth.

On the other hand, mythologies that have ossified into unbreakable dogma have as a starting point - a starting point from which no progress can be made -  a belief that all that needs to be known is already known so no further searching for truth is required. To digress, this phenomenon is similar to the received wisdom of classical China that held that perfection had been attained so any change would be a retroactive step. Consequently, China remained petrified while the rest of the world progressed.

 People who point to the low average IQ of Aborigines as explanation of their continued failure are missing point, at least in regard to how Molyneux sees it. He cites the famous bell curve of intelligence which he maintains is applicable to every race.  What then happened to the many Aborigines who must have landed on the business end of the curve over thousands of years? Dogma such as already alluded to must be protected at all cost. It allows no room for boat-rockers. Anything is more tolerable than threats to beliefs so ingrained and with so much invested in it. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man must be king. NO, in the land of the blind, the seeing man is killed because the reality he describes is blasphemy to the blind. And so, superior Aboriginal men, potential leaders, men of vision, men who thought outside of the dogmatic square would have been perceived as deadly threats and done away with.

Even though, because of the egalitarian religion, the spinners of our Zeitgeist cannot accept anything other than white racism to explain Aboriginal failure, the reason given by Molyneux's is far more plausible and would be far easier to accept, that is, if people were allowed to think their own thoughts.

Molyneux chuckles at the Rouseauean romantic nonsense of of "the noble savage", especially as it is applied to "first Australians". As anybody who has ever taken the trouble to look at the work of early Australian anthropologists is, Molyneux is acquainted with the reality so distant from the notion of the idyllic life of peace-loving people living in perfect harmony with nature in a southern Shangri La. On the contrary, life in Australia before the coming of the white man was "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short". How else to explain the pathetically small number inhabiting the continent - estimated at around 300,000 -  after forty thousand years (now stretched to sixty thousand and growing). Infanticide was rife, as Professor Geoffrey Blainey concedes in his otherwise glowing account of early Aboriginal life in his Triumph of the Nomads. Over this almost geological span of time, millions would have had their skulls smashed on rocks or their mouths filled with sand or simply left behind to the elements and wild animals before they'd so much as sampled life.

With their superior men unceremoniously, or possibly ceremoniously eliminated and with constant warfare and infanticide keeping their numbers steadily pegged in accordance with the food supply available to hunters and gatherers living a hand-to-mouth existence, it shouldn't surprise that Aborigines made zero progress in the millennium of wandering the continent otherwise boasted about. And should it surprise that whites created a cutting edge civilization on this ancient land in the slim fraction of time available to blacks. Should it surprise as well that when a technologically advanced civilization collided with a stone-age culture, conflict ensued? That conflict involved more whites being murdered by blacks than vice versa, but of course all we ever hear about are "massacres" of Aborigines.

True to Molyneux's wanting to acquaint himself with the local situation, that is, a variation on the theme of of the havoc wrought by multiculturalism's devastating effect on the west, he tells of exposing himself to an experience endured every day by millions of Australians. He relates how with his entourage he inflicts on himself a train journey from the city out through the suburbs and finds his group within a short time being the only whites in the carriage. Of course it's worse for white locals travelling alone and perhaps wondering if that last tunnel was a portal into a parallel, non-white universe. Do I need a passport? The audience seems to gush with relief and gratitude that, finally, here is someone who understands. Molyneux knows how to work a crowd.

The time has flown by and he brings his hour's talk to a close. Again the applause is tumultuous and becomes even more so when he introduces his co-speaker, the lovely Lauren Southern who waits for the applause to die down, then immediately launches into an unvarnished examination of the deplorable way in which she has been treated by the Australian media. "Nazi (of course), "extreme right wing", "gun nut", "hate speech enthusiast", "dangerous" are just some of the epithets attached to her in the short time since her arrival down under.

Even a publication that portrays itself as centre-right - and to be fair, it's probably slightly to the right of just about every other element of the Australian media, but of course all things are relative. A pale red fish swimming in a red ocean might think of itself as being vastly different to to all the other fish of a darker red hue - has dished out an egregious diatribe of outright lies about Southern. It's clear that she has been affected by at, brandishing one of the offensive copies as she does. The article has gone further than simply slanting the news - it's a barrage of bald faced lies about Lauren's walk with a film crew through Lakemba, a suburb lost to multiculturalism - specifically Muslim monoculturalism - during which she was confronted by a police sergeant strongly discouraging the continuation of the walk on the grounds that it will offend Muslim sensibilities and possibly lead to disharmony, even violence.

The cop's efforts are nothing other than a brazen attempt to curtail Lauren's civil right, as indeed anyone else's right to walk along a public street and, further, to endeavour to engage people in conversation. Lauren, without arrest or trial, has been declared guilty here. The cop has abandoned his duty to protect her should her mere presence incite precious Muslims to inflict violence on her. The implication here is that it would be their right to do so. Lauren is essentially a potential blamed victim. As one of our braver journalists has noted, this strange legal principle would not apply should a group of enraged Christians spill out of a church to assail Muslim protesters. The Christians would be duly arrested, carted off, tried for assault and more than likely handed out stiff sentences. Their behaviour would after all be branded "hate crime".

Outrageously, the Sydney Telegraph, the copy of which Lauren has with her, backs the cop, sympathises with Muslims "threatened" by this slim, blonde girl with her pesky questions and agrees that she is indeed the culprit. And these dopes are confounded by the lingering death of the print media.

OK, she's gotten that out of her system. Now it's time for her incisive take on multiculturalism. Given that it's a fait accompli, in all western nations, how best to proceed with what used to be the nation state, the operative word being nation? Up onto the big screen goes a quote from Australian Prime Minister, Malcolm Turnbull giving his view on how a country should proceed after succumbing to the multicultural disease. Taking is cue from the US as have all Australian politicians since swapping the British tit for the American one, Malcolm, in not so many words, has declared Australia a propositional nation, that is one not, perish the thought, defined by race or ethnicity, but by adherence to "values" such as tolerance, democracy, freedom, and respect for all, especially women, Aborigines, homosexuals, transvestites, cripples and those not of one's own ethnic groups - essentially for all except white, heterosexual males. He has not, along with all others of his ilk, explained though how this will work while flooding the country with aliens who have no respect for all of the above excluding heterosexual men.

Lauren generously concedes Turnbull's view on how a multicultural Australia should operate as being a legitimate opinion. However, why is it the only one allowed and why must all bow down before this iron dogma? (It's because globalists world-wide pull the strings, but just for the moment let's pretend for argument's sake that we live in a democracy with the sovereignty befitting an independent nation state.) Many other opinions would be just as legitimate. For example, given that multiculturalism leads inexorably to Balkanisation, why not cut straight to the chase and carve the country up into snack-sized pieces populated and governed by the different ethnic groups who already live here - a tribe in each square?

Or more realistically, accepting that we are stuck with this collection of not-so-united nations, but heeding the abundant evidence that full-blown multiculturalism can never be anything other than catastrophic, could we not return to the immigration model that was the intermediate stage between assimilation and multiculturalism, that is, one that expected integration but did not begrudge immigrant's pretending they'd never left the old country as long as they did it on their own dime and weren't zealously encouraged to do it with the ladling out of billions of taxpayers' dollars?

Lauren's talk is dotted with well utilised allusions to Nietzsche, Socrates, nihilism and other indications of a rigorous education probably more autodidactic than formal.  A BA with a major in Political Science was never completed. This undoubtedly would have had much more to do with the excruciatingly difficult experience a girl with her ideas would have endured at the hands of the neo-Marxists who invariable infest every western university than her lacking the intellectual fire-power or will to achieve. Indeed, the suspicion arises that the maturity on show tonight is evidence of an earlier life as a child prodigy. Considering her knowledge, commitment, flowing articulation, and confidence, it's difficult  to process the fact that she is a mere twenty three years of age. A lot of experience has been squeezed into these tender years; she's spoken at the European Parliament, braved howling mobs of would-be red guards, and learnt how to handle hateful media personnel with ease, making fools of leftist talking heads around the world as she has already done here with our own brainwashed media arse-clowns. Has it been mentioned she is also very easy to look at? She's every conservative thinking man's pin-up girl.

Her segment of the event also seems to have been time-warped. The hour has rushed by. One almost expects an encore being called for. Instead, boisterous applause erupts - perhaps even a decibel or two more than met the end of Stefan's presentation.

It's now time for the third segment of the event, a question answer section. Both Stefan and Lauren return to centre stage to be seated for this. On the way, Lauren gives a girlish skip almost as a reminder that she is after all only twenty three. Most of the the questions aren't the most penetrating or well thought out and the MC has to remind questioners on several times to stick to a question instead of a statement as is so often the proclivity on these types of occasions but the two Canadians on stage field every question thoughtfully and considerately - even one from a Brazilian who appears to be in the wrong place and wants to know what, if Australia were to close its borders, would happen to Brazil, voicing the wide spread belief that immigration into Australia should be for the benefit of everybody but Australians. For an instant, both on stage appear to be nonplussed. In the pregnant pause, none actually call out, but  many must be thinking, NOT OUR PROBLEM.

Will at least one of the questioners ask the burning question: who ultimately is behind mass immigration and multiculturalism? But no one does. In fact the Jew question has been kept well clear of throughout the night. It's a bit like being in Germany and remembering to not mention the war. Don't mention the Jews. But at least one member of the audience, albeit one too lazy to join the conga line of questioners, wishes they had. This to him is perhaps the one serious blemish of the event.

The line of questioners is still snaking toward the MC who has maintained an iron grip on the microphone in the face of many instinctive attempts to commandeer it, but as a book-signing is also planned for the night, the question and answer session is brought to a close. The MC thanks both Stefan and Lauren on behalf of the audience who second the gesture with a long, standing ovation.

The audience seems reluctant to leave but eventually begins to make its way toward the exits. A fresh breeze of inspiration, optimism and new hope is almost palpable. In the expanses of space outside the auditorium many, who have perhaps never met before tonight, stand in groups happily discussing what they've just experienced. It's unlikely any would not agree that it was eighty bucks well spent.

Thanks for the visit. Please come again.

Thursday, May 31, 2018


A man after my own heart! Thanks to James Reed, Australian League of Rights On Target, May 11, 2018 for this chilling scenario as predictable as a sunrise:

 By James Reed

The Australian intellectual chattering class want to be part of Asia, and given Chinese migration, especially via the student university immigration superhighway, that means Australia will ultimately be Chinese. Forget English, the monarchy and all that: think China. So what will life be like for the whites who exist? Why, they will live as Chinese do! Since it is against the law to object in any way to the genocide of Anglo-Saxon traditions, let us shake the dust of death from our sandals and move on. What will life be like in the new Chinaustralia?

 “When Liu Hu recently tried to book a flight, he was told he was banned from flying because he was on the list of untrustworthy people. Liu is a journalist who was ordered by a court to apologize for a series of tweets he wrote and was then told his apology was insincere. “I can’t buy property. My child can’t go to a private school,” he said. “You feel you’re being controlled by the list all the time.” And the list is now getting longer as every Chinese citizen is being assigned a social (DIS-ed)credit score — a fluctuating rating based on a range of behaviors. It’s believed that community service and buying Chinese-made products can raise your score. Fraud, tax evasion and smoking in non-smoking areas can drop it. China does this by setting up a network of cameras that have advanced facial recognition AIs. They see you when you are sleeping. They know when you’re awake. You’d better not shout or they’re gonna make you cry. Stalker Claus is coming to town. The fear, of course, it that the government may use this social (DIS-ed)credit scoring system to punish people that it deems not sufficiently loyal to the communist party.... And trying to clear your name or fight your score is nearly impossible, because there’s no due process.”

 That is “social (DIS-ed)credit” Chinese style. And, there is no reason not to suppose that this is our future. After all, it is the present reality, so how is that going to change any time so? My friend, hard times are ahead of us, perhaps the hardest anyone has known. 

Monday, May 28, 2018


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"Non whites will form ghettos."  Arthur Calwell, Australia's first Minister for Immigration stating the obvious

Front page: "Stop White Flight". Bit late for that, thinks I. Ho Hum. Turn page. Look for disasters a bit more up to date.

It's the next day though that the fun begins. And here I was thinking I'd seen all that the brave new insane world had to offer. It's a veritable cyclone in a tea cup. NSW Labor Opposition leader, Luke Foley, who's uttered what most sensible people would consider a fairly innocuous phrase, is running for cover, tail between legs and hands clasped to ears as a torrent of brickbats and vitriolic abuse pursue him.

Poor bumbling Luke had become the walking, breathing confirmation of the opinion of American columnist, Sam Francis as quoted by Patrick Buchanan in State of Emergency: the third world invasion and conquest of America:
"In the Victorian era, the Great Taboo was sex. Today .... the Great Taboo is race. The Victorians virtually denied that sex existed. Today, race is said to be 'merely a social construct,' a product of the imagination, and of a none too healthy imagination at that, rather than a reality of nature. The Victorians severely punished people who talked about sex, made jokes about sex, or wrote too openly and frankly about sex. Today, journalists, disc jockeys, leading sports figures, public officials, distinguished academics, and major political leaders who violate the racial taboos of our age are fired from their newspapers, networks or radio stations, forced to resign their positions, condemned by their own colleagues, and subjected to 'investigations of their own 'backgrounds' and their 'links' to other individuals and groups that have also violated the race taboo."

"The comments were deeply divisive, dangerous and nasty [translates as, he's a racist]," shrieks the Premier, Gladys Berejiklian. I'm scratching my head. I'm in a fog, trying to catch up. Has my world really drifted so far from theirs thus catching me as flat footed as this? Racist? Has the meaning of this ridiculous word been stretched so far as to be entirely meaningless?  I'm analysing. Exactly what has been seen as racist in Foley's slip of honesty? Is it the use of the word "white"? That could be it. It could be signalling that a separate race actually exists in this post racial world in which race has been found not to exist. Or is it the word "flight". Yes, that could be more like it. It implicitly asks the question of what are whites in flight from. Oh my God! As females would say. The answer must be that they are in flight from people unlike themselves. Why would they possibly want to do that? And there you have it, the dreaded racism that Foley has cunningly tapped into.

A Telegraph journalist helpfully confirms my suspicion: "The term 'white flight' is a phrase that has been used to stir racial unrest throughout the US for the past 60 years.

"It was first used during the 1950s and 1960s when African Americans began moving into what had previously been soley white communities, leading many white families to leave." Damned racists! Couldn't stand to see their neighbourhoods converted into crime-ridden garbage dumps.

Worse is to come. Foley's observation is supported by nationalists (nationalist being another dirty word only marginally less damning than racist) such as Pauline Hanson, Cori Bernadi and Mark Latham - quarantined outsiders. With friends like these ...

Foley's tiny revolt against political correctness lasts less than twenty four hours. Attacked from the right and the left, he's a walking bag of remorse, apologising profusely and begging forgiveness. He is after all a politician. And his domain is a typical self-flagellating, suicidal liberal democracy. Statesmen need not apply.

It's not over yet though. Foley has opened a vein that can't quite be stitched back together. The Telegraph, curiously wanting to have a bet each way in this sudden eruption, publishes letters that normally wouldn't be allowed to get through to the keeper. A particular letter, entitled "Harassed, I fled my suburb",  by one V Petrie deserves to be reproduced in full:

     "The 'white flight' problem in Sydney requires thinking about more than infrastructure and community services.
     There are other reasons why an Aussie might feel the need to leave some Sydney districts.
     Having 'not very nice' graffiti painted on my fence was my first hint I was not in a good place. Being ignored and not being served in shops where I had previously been a regular customer, after the shops were visited by a religious identity, was the second hint.
     Not being able to use the local park with my toddler daughter after being circled on the swings by a group of youths and men, simply meant I needed to drive to a more suitable park.
     Being called a 'slut' and 'less than a dog' when teaching 12 year old boys in the local schools was a real awakener that my home town Sydney was changing.
     And being told that I couldn't make this public knowledge or I would not be employed brought home how powerless I was to prevent this continuing.
     The final straw was being spat on when walking in the main shopping street.
     However, it still took a few incidents before I caught on that it wasn't just accidental bad manners. It was intentional and was the new norm.
     Eventually I realised that I needed to flee the harassment - or was it persecution?
     Yes, in 1985 I became an Aussie refugee from Arncliffe."

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Any wonder whites are in flight? Whites acting in accordance with their human nature? Our hallowed multiculturalism - the "the most successful in the world", doncha know - tends to recognise the human nature of non-whites in allowing to the full, even encouraging them to live amongst their own kind where they feel most comfortable. Given that they will never feel comfortably living among Australians and therefore will never assimilate, this seems only fair.

Shouldn't the same right be extended to Australians whose neighbourhoods have been transformed into cast-offs of foreign countries? Shouldn't they be also allowed to live among their own kind where they feel most comfortable? Definitely not. On the contrary, by wanting to move away from "enrichment" they are showing themselves to be irretrievably racist. Double standards? Of course, but we should be used to it by now.

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The controversy was still simmering the next week when Telegraph columnist, Tim Blair, was wondering if any non whites had actually been offended by Foley's gaff. He answered his own question by way of his inimitably dry wit: "Only whites could be insulted by the suggestion they are insufficiently woke to rejoice in the delights of multiculturalism."

The ghettos of which Arthur Calwell warned more than seventy years ago are pieces of Australia lost forever. They are holes burnt in a map that can only get bigger thanks to the hyper immigration from the third world of which our elites are so enamoured.

What we are seeing here in embryo is the  phenomenon currently transforming American beyond recognition. Again from State of Emergency:

"La Reconquista is not to be accomplished by force of arms, as was the US annexation of the Southwest and California in 1848. It is to be carried out by non violent invasion and cultural transformation of the huge slice of America into a Mexamerican borderland where the dominant culture is Hispanic and Anglos will feel alienated and begin to emigrate, as, indeed they already have - back over the mountains their fathers and grandfathers crossed generations ago. Each year now, 250,000 native born Californians pack up and leave forever in what demographer William Frey calls the 'flight from diversity'. [Now that's white flight, even if put slightly more politely.] Meanwhile, since 2000, a million new illegal aliens, almost all Mexicans, have arrived to make Los Angeles home."

Forces at work impossible to resist will eventually complete La Reconquista of which Buchanan writes and the southwest of the US will be torn away to be once again part of Mexico. The forces, including the Mexican Government, greedy American capitalists and the lure of wealth to millions of impoverished peasants, are irresistable because no political will exists to prevent it, so racked with white guilt are the mentally ill US liberals.

Make no mistake, the same thing is happening here but in a far less spectacular fashion. Instead of a huge slab of the country being torn away, cancerous tumours have appeared, rotting us from the inside. They have names: Fairfield, Lakemba, Campsie, Hurstville, Randwick, Chatswood, Bankstown, the combat zones of the western suburbs of Melbourne et al.  The question won't go away. Why wouldn't there be white flight? But as the cancers spread, where will whites be fleeing to? Will they end up scuttling like cockroaches from one temporary shelter to the next until there is no shelter left and they are stomped on?

Wednesday, May 23, 2018


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Leaving Kangaroo Island on March 24, 1802, Flinders back-tracked to Cape Spencer where mapping of the mainland had ceased four days previously. Perhaps disappointingly, as the gulf closed on both sides, Flinders had to conclude that if a strait existed severing two halves of the continent, it didn't begin here.

 Exiting the gulf, Flinders proceeded to map the coast between there and Cape Jervis across Investigator Strait from Kangaroo Island. A smaller gulf, named Saint Vincent Gulf, was quickly proved also to not be the beginning of the way to the Gulf of Carpentaria. The theory of the strait was now all but ready for shredding. The abundance of fresh food available on the island of kangaroos again beckoned, so to there is where the ship returned. Flinders also needed to check time-keeping errors possibly made on the original visit.

The men hunted, feasted and explored the island further before departing again just after sunrise on April, 6. About 14.00 of the same day a sight so unbelievable was made that it was construed as almost the complete opposite. What had been initially believed to be a huge white rock emerging from the sea was in reality the sails of a ship. Banks and the British Admiralty and naturally Flinders himself had been aware the French were planning an expedition that would be a counterpart of his own. It was the reason Banks felt some urgency, although apparently not shared by the admiralty, in getting the Investigator under way as soon as possible. But to sight another ship where no other ship had been before may have been akin to American moon-landers finding they had Russian neighbours

So, getting over the surprise of seeing a ship, it would have been no greater surprise to see a  French tri-colour brought up close by a telescope. As the distance narrowed between the two ships, the French vessel broke out a Union Jack - the French way of showing a flag of truce. The two nations were at war after all. Flinders hoisted a white flag in reply but maneuvered warily so as to retain the upper hand in case of any surprises being sprung. With no untoward intent shown by either ship, they came within hailing distance in a shallow bay thirty nautical miles north west of Kangaroo Island. As Rob Mundle puts it in his Flinders: the man who mapped Australia, "[n]ow the two sides were meeting bow to bow at a place which, until that moment, no one had known existed". Flinders would call this place Encounter Bay.

The French vessel was Le Geograph, captained by Nicolas Baudin. Satisfied with the recognition of the ship and knowing full well it was on a scientific expedition such as his own - indeed straight after he boarded it from one of Navigator's boats he would be shown the passport issued by the British Government which was a direct counterpart of his own issued by Napoleon's government - and with the aid of the naturalist, John Brown, who could speak French, the two captains got down to affably comparing notes.

Baudin told Flinders that on initially sighting his ship, he had mistaken it for the French escort ship, Le Naturaliste, for which it had been searching after separation by storm. Baudin had no way of knowing that, storm-damaged and with many of his crew sick with scurvy, the captain of Le Naturaliste had turned and made a run for Port Jackson where it was hoped succor would be found (where indeed it was provided even more generously than the terms of the British passport obliged).

If someone with more zeal and conscientiousness than Boudin had have been chosen to lead the French expedition, the worst fears of the British may have been realised and the history of Australia shot into a radically different direction, perhaps with two different nations sharing the continent with a possible war to determine the overall owner such as happened in Canada. But with Boudin, British Australia was safe. He had no naval background, his seagoing career, formerly being purely merchant marine. He did though have an interest in natural history and science, this being the clincher for the job. Given his future job performance, it's doubtful he even wanted the job. En route to the antipodes, he pulled into the French port of Mauritius where he spent an inexplicable forty days. Because of this delay, it was almost winter before he reached the coast of New Holland, and with the cold months not being an optimum seasonal choice for voyaging in the Southern Ocean, Baudin had elected to follow the coast north at a casual clip, leaving no fewer than 240 place names that still survive before finally reaching the port of Kupang in the Dutch East Indies. Here he wasted another three months. More charitably, it was claimed necessary stores being difficult to procure there caused the delay.

Then with weather more conducive to southern voyaging, the two French vessels backtracked along the west coast, rounded Cape Leeuwin and shot straight across to the south of Van Diemen's Land, rounded it, then proceeded west through Bass Strait to begin the true work of mapping the south of the continent. Because of the delays and separations from the slower Le Naturaliste, Baudin was now a full nine months behind schedule. By the time of what must have been a crushing disappointment in meeting Flinders coming in the opposite direction and having mapped all of the coast behind him, he was ten months out of Le Havre. It's not surprising that crewmen of Le Naturaliste were in such poor physical shape with most suffering varying degrees of scurvy.

The meeting in the bay, named Encounter by Flinders and engraving it in Australian history, lasted only 24 hours. Flinders advised his French counterpart that he would be able to procure fresh water and food on Kangaroo Island before the two ships parted. It was a slow motion parting, the day being so windless the two ships remained in sight of one another for hours even though sailing in opposite directions. Boudin's plan was to continue west (presumbly in a dispirited mood knowing now that he'd been beaten to the punch by Flinders in already charting all the coast he would to see) until the weather turned bad. He would then turn about and head for Port Jackson

Boudin would break off the voyage when the weather turned bad well before reaching Cape Leeuwin and sail back east all the way to Port Jackson. Flinders, in whose esteem Baudin already had a low rating, appears to have graded it even more lowly when he discovered that the Frenchman had sailed straight past Port Phillip Bay without noticing it. However, what would come as a surprise to Flinders was that Lieutenant John Murray had explored and named it ten weeks previously.

On the 8th May, 1802, the Investigator turned in between the rocky outcrops that would eventually be named Sydney Heads. Flinders would soon discover the missing Le Naturaliste had arrived at Port Jackson two weeks earlier, storm damaged and with many of its crew seriously ill.

Not wanting to waste a moment, Flinders quickly set about having his own ship's storm damage repaired, with crewman stitching sails outside of tents pitched on the water-front. Coopers ensured the water-tightness of barrels before their being reenished with drinking water. Among modifications made to the ship was the lowering of a palisade around the deck which would facilitate the sighting needed for hydrography.

Flinders was perhaps only dimly aware at the time that the Investigator could never be made entirely ship-shape. In modern parlance, it was a "lemon". This made sense considering Britain's ongoing war with France necessitated its needing every good quality ship that could be put out to sea. Ergo, the ship made available to Flinders did not fit into this category. It was in fact worse than not deserving of a top-of-the line rating. The timber it was built from was what was called "wainy and sappy". This was caused by timber being green and not properly dried before used in construction, with a propensity for being "soft". Flinders had been made aware of this problem at the time of his taking command of it but it seems not to have greatly concerned him given his elation at being provided any ship at all and furthermore in light of his experiences with the Reliance and the Norfolk, crafts which modern day sailors would probably refuse to board.

Flinders and his crew were still in port preparing their ship for the remainder of the continent's circumnavigation when on June 20th an initially unidentified ship appeared in the harbour. The vessel, looking like a bedraggled ghost ship, seemed almost to be drifting aimlessly, its sails torn or badly set, and evidence of human life barely visible. It was Le Geographe, storm battered and with 158 of its crew of 170 below decks desperately ill. Flinders was the first to act, quickly organising a boat to tow the sad spectacle to a dock. The French vessel would remain in port for the next three months undergoing repairs while the stricken men recuperated from mostly scurvy related illness. By contrast, when the Investigator had arrived in port, residents of the outpost had been impressed by the rude, good health of all on board. This was testament to Flinders' care of and concern for his crew.

As noted, the British and the French were at war. Although Baudin had a passport from the British Government, the same as Flinders had from the French, this was essentially a safeguard from being accosted by representatives of the opposing side. However, officials of Port Jackson showed gallantry in the excess of hospitality, help and respect provided to Baudin and his crew. The British respect for science and exploration also played into the respect members of the French expedition were shown.

To Be Continued 

Wednesday, May 16, 2018


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It cheers you when you are depressed. It keeps you company when you are lonely. It distracts you when you are worried. Television does all this and more. But it is not your friend. At best, it is a false friend. At worse, it is controlling your mind and exploiting your fears and insecurities on behalf of those who are anything but your friends.

We are taught that the German National Socialists, specifically the "evil" genius Dr Joseph Goebbels, perfected the art of propaganda. On the contrary, it was highly efficient, but a long way from perfection. Compared to the way in which modern methods of propaganda have us thinking as other people wish, it was clumsy and clunky.

It was Edward Bernays, nephew of Sigmund Freud and "the father of public relations" according to an obituary, who took Goebbels' prototype and converted it into an art-form comparable in improvement to the jet over the propeller. Bernays though wasn't particularly interested in political propaganda. He was essentially a money grubber, seeing no gutter filthy enough to be deterred
from rolling in. It was Bernays, for example, who converted millions of otherwise sensible and healthy women into cigarette smokers. His "torch of freedom" lured a small band of female smokers out of their closets - it was unseemly for a woman to be seen smoking in public -  exploded their numbers and had them puffing proudly on the streets (an early version of "girls can do anything" striking a blow for "liberation").

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Public relations, or to call a spade a spade, advertising and propagandising, received a monumental boost with the proliferation of television. Because economists understood that World War 11 alone had lifted Western countries out of the Great Depression - every other attempt including FDR's fabled "New Deal" being dismal failures - widespread fears existed that with the conclusion of the war, capitalist nations would slip straight back into economic depression. The most effective way to prevent this, it was thought, was the creation of the consumer society to keep the pump primed and the wheels turning. Vance Packard, author of the fifty year old, million seller, The Hidden Persuaders, tended to agree with this analysis, concluding that the post war wave of advertising was a kind of necessary economic evil. So with television the left hand and hire-purchase the right, a glittering treasure-trove society was born. Buy now, pay later and the devil take the hindmost. Right away, the Joanses were leading the pack and no one wanted to be ignominiously left behind.

Although television was then in an embryonic state, its potential of being the Big Bertha of advertising was widely and well recognised. To this end the crusade to put a television set in every American living room was started in earnest. Well south of the border, the potential of television was also recognised as a powerful instrument of thought-control. Selling products which people didn't need and couldn't afford was not the main concern though. The thinking here was mainly along political lines. The drawback though was that most South Americans couldn't afford television sets. No problem. Governments would simply subsidise the cost so that no citizen need be without a TV set, through which could be beamed crude, undisguised political propaganda.

With the social revolution of the sixties, everything changed, including television. Wholesome entertainment such as Leave it to Beaver, and Father Knows Best was beginning to be considered hopelessly "square". And so began the televised race to the bottom to reflect the overthrow of values which had usefully informed societies for so long. Love scenes were replaced with sex scenes and the latter became de rigeur regardless of plot, setting or theme. Horror horrified. Violence became ever more realistic. (These days gun manufacturers are taking advantage of the time-honoured strategy of "product placement" to promote their wares to criminals and gangsters.)

The sixties revolution was of course a leftist revolution cementing in the keystone of the left/liberal hegemony that we suffer with today. The sixties radicals grew up and began their long march through the institutions - including television, in which, notwithstanding their obligatory atheism, they may have considered a god-given instrument with which to maintain the revolution. Coming years after the South Americans' joyous discovery of television as a political weapon, the now suited former hippies began bending television waves toward the political, but in infinitely more subtle ways than the Latin Americans.

Some time ago a valuable psychological experiment was conducted. Participants were invited into an experiment which they were told was to test their concentration. They were asked to view two teams - one blue, the other red - who were moving around and passing balls to other team-mates, and asked to keep count of the number of times the ball was passed within one of the teams.

Midway through the experiment, a man dressed in a gorilla suit appeared and began walking about among the ball-passers and then left. After the experiment, participants were asked how many times a ball had changed hands. Most got this correct. They were then asked if they'd seen anything unusual during the activity. "No," they invariably replied. None had seen the man in the gorilla suit - seen consciously, that is - who'd been in plain sight. It was proof of our inclination to see selectively.

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This is how the best of televised propaganda works. Our attention is diverted to the central story and activity and away from the messages being inserted in the programme. This is a form of the subliminal advertising, or messaging, that caused such a hew and cry many years ago and was seen to be so underhanded as to be banned. Although the conscious mind has been bypassed, the message has still slipped straight through  to the keeper - the subconscious mind. A new belief has been planted or an old one deleted.

Let's take a squiz at a few recent examples:

The Handmaid's Tale  Something has gone awfully wrong in the lead up to the scenario around which this series revolves but we are never told exactly what. However, whatever it was has left the great majority of women barren in what used to be the USA (now the theocratic Republic of Gilead). We also know that this new republic has been given birth to by violent revolution - one that can only be maintained by the barrel of a gun. In a desperate bid to keep the governed from dying out, the government has decreed that the few remaining fertile women (the handmaidens) be rounded up and be mated with high value men, effectively forced into sex-slavery. The regime is every bit as brutal as it needs to be in such a desperate situation.

But what's going on between the lines as it were? Can the story be seen as allegory? A little applied inductive reasoning suggests it can. A few important details within the series: women, even the wives of the high value men who will become the mothers of the children produced by proxy, have few rights. It is beyond doubt a man's world, a world suddenly switched from Yin to Yang, from far left to far right. Homosexuals, "faggots" and "dykes" are objects of intense hatred and many of the bodies left hanging by the neck in public belong to those of the banned persuasion. Religion has been revived from near death and now forms a centre-piece of the new reality. It is in fact an extreme Christian fundamentalism. Female modesty has made a spectacular come-back and is de rigeur - no plump breasts bursting out of inadequate restraints or hemlines barely below the privates. Even female hair is discreetly hidden in public as indeed it once was in days dimly remembered.

Is perhaps the allegory veiled behind the facade a warning? Is it a warning of what the more unhinged of American liberal/leftist fear Trump's America will lead to? If so, the revolution that's resulted in Gilead is, more correctly, a counter revolution - a revolt against the liberal revolution that began in the sixties. Fabled feminism, for example, has been rolled back with a vengeance. A loud-mouthed, whining me-tooer would be distinctly out of place here and possibly in great danger. "Gay" liberation is also no more, and homosexuals are desperate for closets to climb back into.

God, which was thought to be dead or at least seriously ill, is also back with a vengeance. He appears to be more of a Jewish god than a benign bearded type - one to be feared rather than one shining love onto the world. However, religion in Gilead in used like so many others throughout history, that is, as a supremely effective form of social control. The Handmaid's Tale, seen this way, is a kind of bogeyman. This is what you'll get unless you are forever vigilant and ready to defend the liberal revolution - a caricature of the AltRight meeting the Taliban.

Homeland   This is an American rip-off of a series originally produced in Israel. That's not to say though that it is not entertaining television. The protagonist, Carrie Mathison, played almost hypnotically by Clair Danes, is a CIA agent suffering with a Bipolar condition. As long as her finely balanced medication keeps the condition modified, it aids her in being a perfect fit for her job - fearless and as focused as a laser.

In season six, recently wound up, the American government is balanced on a precipice with right wing yahoo militia types racing around in the backs of trucks armed with the finest firepower allowed by the second amendment. The President has just narrowly survived an assassination attempt. The President is female. Perhaps it was envisioned that Hillary would be comfortably ensconced in the White House by the time the series aired. It doesn't really matter to the persuaders that this didn't pan out. They are sure that a female president will eventually prevail, especially after the public being softened up and gotten used to the idea by seeing a fictional female president. This runs along the same lines as the American public constantly being exposed to fictional black presidents which paved the way for Obama.

Cloaks, daggers, intrigue, complexity and the frenetic Carrie pin-balls from one crisis to the next but finally all is resolved. It was those damned Russians all along. Yes, it was the dastardly Russkis who never for once believed that the cold war had finished - it was they behind the attempt to bring chaos (one is almost reminded of Maxwell Smart's KAOS) , confusion and instability to America. This of course feeds nicely into the anti-Russian, anti-Putin vitriol that has been spewing fire-hose-like for years from the American media and their Neocon handlers.

For emphasis, President Elizabeth Keane pontificates in the denouement, about those Russians "who've been fighting us since the fifties". Absolutely no fault of the Americans who, just itching to get into World War 11, ignored the murderous track record of the Soviets, claimed them as their wonderful and eternal allies and armed them to the teeth in a combined effort to shatter Germany, and then when it was all over, ignored General Patton's advice, for which he was taken out, and allowed their good ol' buddies to devour half of Europe and then arm the communists in China, thus causing the US to "lose it". No, it was the Russians who were as singularly guilty as the Germans supposedly were in starting both world wars. The Soviet Union of course eventually collapsed under the weight of Marxist absurdities presenting an opportunity for peace and good will for all mankind. But where are you going to find an enemy as good as the Russians? Better move NATO right up to their borders and keep them ringed with nuclear missiles.

Berlin Station  Coming in late here means being confused but nevertheless still gripped. The Berlin Station is a franchise of the CIA in Germany's capital. Season 2 which has just wrapped up in Australia is of most interest here. Cunning CIA agents have infiltrated a "far right group" with the moniker Perspektive fur Deutschland (PfD). This naturally is a thinly veiled stand-in for Alternative fur Deutschland (AfD) which performed spectacularly well in the last national election, becoming "the first far right party to win seats in the Bundestag since 1945" when those dastardly "Nazis" held power. This naturally had liberal/leftists world-wide wetting themselves.

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The association of the fictional with the real political party is a royal shit-smearing job and one can only wonder at how a major defamation case has been avoided. Unlike the real party, the fictional one is staffed with fanatics, its leader in particular bearing a close psychological similarity to an amalgamation of a high ranking National Socialist officials. Worse still, it is a terrorist group planning a false flag act of major destruction and murder for which Muslims will wear the blame. Remarkably, the leader (one has to imagine his black uniform) says things that any sane, non-mind-controlled, self-respecting German citizen should be saying, things such as, "we are tired of being under American occupation and control", "it's time to stop wallowing in shame and lift our heads high", "how long must we keep paying and paying for our past?" Interestingly though, he doesn't overtly deny the holocaust. That would indeed be a bridge to far. Why waken a sleeping dog that's better off dead?

But of course in a context, or rather, a bubble, of liberal sweetness, these mutterings are made to seem so shocking as to be a cause of mature women clutching at their pearl necklaces and younger women swooning and falling to the floor. It could though be classed as an exercise as hiding in plain sight - let's lance the boil and see how truly noxious it is.

Harrow  Now that homosexual marriage has put the seal of approval on homosexuality, deeming it to be perfectly normal, television is proving to be a great aid in preventing us losing sight of this normality - backsliding, if you will.

This series pulls its weight in this regard. Harrow, the eponymous lead character in this, our own ABC series, just finished, is a slicing and dicing forensic pathologist who hasn't bothered to join MENSA (its members would probably be too dull for him). All in all, it's a well produced and entertaining programme featuring, apart from one character who is more of a caricature, high-grade acting. Harrow's sidekick cum assistant is the inclusion of inclusiveness. It's in fact a double-whammy of inclusion. He is not only homosexual; he's also Asian - and as sweet as can be. No, not that kind of sweetness, not flaming, but perfectly nicely masculine; in fact, the picture of normality. It's as though a young man you had just met told you he was going out on a date, and you asked, as you would, "dinner or a movie?", you asked instead, "boy or girl?" (Whichever, it's all right - perfectly normal - with me.)

In one episode when a man catches his teenage in flagrante delicto with the son's new best male friend, he reacts as most men would react - with rage, hurt and disappointment, perhaps not with the rage the character expresses but surely with intense emotion. When Harrow hears of this reaction, be explodes with moral outrage: "he did that simply because of his son's sexual persuasion!" To Harrow, the man's behaviour is pegged perfectly level with rage at finding his son was left-handed rather than right handed.

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This though is just the thin edge of the wedge. Steel yourself for ever more, increasingly gut churning portrayals of "alternate" love and love-making. How about a new classification being added to TVs rating system to warn us of what's coming; something easily decipherable like HS - homosexual sex? Don't even ask. Keep your head down. You do want to stay out of those re-education camps don't you?

As well as drip-feeding a steady diet of homosexual homage directly into the frontal lobe, TV does an excellent job of spruiking the desirability of race-mixing. The character of Offred, solemnly played by Elisabeth Moss in the aforementioned Handmaiden's Tale, for example, was drawn to the dark side before her world was turned upside down, resulting in a milk-coffee-coloured piccaninny.  British television, however, leads the field in race-mixing characters (as well as minority women bosses, particularly police chiefs). A brief sampling of British offerings could easily have one convinced that white people were legally prevented from having spouses or even short-time sexual partners of the same fair race.

All of the above, far and away the most pernicious and insidious aspects of television, has unfortunately only touched on the totality of its far ranging toxic effects. The reason it is an advertiser's and propagandist's paradise is that it alters the brain to make it more amenable to outside control. After a remarkably short time, for instance, a TV viewer's level of consciousness is lowered to one just above sleep with brain activity being less than in sleep. This is the so-called alpha level of brain-wave, one similar to that attained in meditation and the level preferred by hypnotists for best results. It is in fact a hypnotic state. Best of all, from the perspective of those who desire to share your brain, television is addictive. Try not watching TV for even a week. It is as addictive as chocolate in as much as the endorphin releasing effects are the same. But you can only eat so much chocolate and most humans have the sensibility to realise that even if you could, eating chocolate six, seven, or eight hours per day will not lead to optimum health. It's not so with TV. What's the harm? is the question most would ask. The old more jocular than serious saying that TV will rot your brain has been proven to be correct. For the entire litany of evil, check out, if you dare, the following:

And if you really, really must continue being transfixed by the glowing screen, at least try and remember that those on the other side of it do not really have your best interests at heart.