Relations between Australia’s Aborigines and the rest of us have been a disaster of varying proportions since the day we started sharing this big island.
We “Whities” didn’t care much in the early days. Those natives for which our forefathers had no use were, largely, ignored. But things are different now.
A special commission (the umpteenth or so) last week announced that our Aboriginal citizens are in a state of desperate crisis, and our Prime Minister decided “something must be done, and fast!”
Well, I don’t care if the PM’s decision was encouraged by an imminent election, or if he was really convinced that there really is a crisis and that he’s the man in the position to do something about it. I don’t care if the Opposition Leader’s support of the PM’s decisions is fair dinkum or political either - “Just get on with it”, I say!
For generations, now, we’ve tried to fill this shameful national “black hole” with good intentions and millions of dollars.
We’ve given our Aborigines land rights, “whilly nilly”, without giving them the means or the training to use them. We’ve given them Citizenship with neither real opportunity nor training to use it, and we’ve given them ambitions and expectations, without the chance to earn to achieve them.
We’ve given them, as well, access to alcohol and drugs, and far too many of these people – old and young- have taken them as a ready means to escape from a pointless and frustrating way of life.
The coming clean-up campaign isn’t big on “niceness” and on observance of the “civil rights” of those who will be directly affected, I know. But, will the bleaters and protesters tell us of a better way to rescue these people from degradation? Will they tell us a “nicer” way to get our Aborigines into a state wherein they can effectively exert their rights, and gain a noticeably better lifestyle than they have now?
Monday, June 25, 2007
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Their future "news"
What's considered "news" on Channel 10 TV is a sort of variable feast - their evening news sessions are regularly used to promote so-called news items that are to appear in the future.
On one Friday evening recently they spent more than a minute promoting a report due "next week."
It's all a bit sad, really.
Not that Channel 10 is the only commercial TV network that treats its viewers as though we're idiots, and has such a woeful understanding of our language. The industry has become so commercially competitive, lately, that cross promotion of station "celebrities" and program features seems to invade every one of the live shows. It all adds noticeably to the concentration of commercials that, more often than not, take up more time than the programmed entertainment.
Things are so bad that more people are turning to ABC TV at night - only to find that the over-abundance of over-indulgent promo's isn't a big improvement on the commercials!
SBS used to be noticeably better on the promotion "ad-n-blurb" front, but they've gone much more commercial lately and, anyway, I just can't get used to those European films and sub-titles and - I rapidly got sick of a certain German Shepherd.
PS: I've solved my problem.
Tomorrow I'm going to buy a TV recorder, and everything I want to watch I'll record and watch later - using fast-forward during the breaks. Well, perhaps I should watch the news sessions "live" but - only on the ABC. In the meantime, I'll listen to the radio (ABC of course) and to a lot more CDs!
On one Friday evening recently they spent more than a minute promoting a report due "next week."
It's all a bit sad, really.
Not that Channel 10 is the only commercial TV network that treats its viewers as though we're idiots, and has such a woeful understanding of our language. The industry has become so commercially competitive, lately, that cross promotion of station "celebrities" and program features seems to invade every one of the live shows. It all adds noticeably to the concentration of commercials that, more often than not, take up more time than the programmed entertainment.
Things are so bad that more people are turning to ABC TV at night - only to find that the over-abundance of over-indulgent promo's isn't a big improvement on the commercials!
SBS used to be noticeably better on the promotion "ad-n-blurb" front, but they've gone much more commercial lately and, anyway, I just can't get used to those European films and sub-titles and - I rapidly got sick of a certain German Shepherd.
PS: I've solved my problem.
Tomorrow I'm going to buy a TV recorder, and everything I want to watch I'll record and watch later - using fast-forward during the breaks. Well, perhaps I should watch the news sessions "live" but - only on the ABC. In the meantime, I'll listen to the radio (ABC of course) and to a lot more CDs!
Friday, June 15, 2007
Flights of fancy
My first ambition was to be a pilot. "Biggles" was my hero as a youngster, and I dreamed, then, of sharing magnificent aerial adventures with him and "Algy" and the rest of the squadron.
Not for me the smelly, dirty trains that rattled through our country town. I made paper planes during class at primary school, balsa wood cut-out glider kits later, than balsa-framed and tissue- covered models with real propellors and twisted rubber bands for power.
One day, aged 12, I cycled 12 miles to the nearest aerodrome for my first flight, complete with 10 shillings and my box Brownie. Soon, fitted with leather pilot's cap and plugged into the air-powered inter-com system I set off into the atmosphere in the somewhat lonely front cockpit of the Tiger Moth of my dreams.
It was wonderful, that first flight - fresh air on the face, lovely noisy engine, much vibration, half-understood messages from the pilot, and “awesome” views restricted by my lack of size.
I had to hold my camera out the side, and out of view, to get my pictures, but I persevered. The shock came at the 10-minute mark when my back-seat friend announced he was going to help me get my pictures. . . . . We dived on fishing boats, we banked sharply so I could see what I was clicking at, and my stomach started to threaten revolution. All that time I wasn't game to admit that I'd used all my film before that performance started. Worst thing was that the plane's vibration rendered the final prints as a massive blur!
That Tiger Moth flight was the high point (sorry) of my aeronautical career. For National Service, much later, I pre-selected Air Force first, Navy second and Army last. I served in khaki, of course. Later, I tried gliding and that's a really pleasant way to take to the air - provided you don't worry too much about the lack of engine, that is.
Trouble was that I was never able to find the airstrip after launching, and my instructor suffered from airsickness and thus strove valiently to avoid "thermals", so that hobby didn't last long.
The last burst of my flying fever" emerged in my 20s, during my first away-from-home job.I built and flew a series of powered model aircraft for a while, but that didn't last any longer than the morning my landlady discovered I'd seriously scored the laminex top of her kitchen table during a late night building project.
I’ve been at ground level, mostly, ever since!
“Sorry Biggles.”
Not for me the smelly, dirty trains that rattled through our country town. I made paper planes during class at primary school, balsa wood cut-out glider kits later, than balsa-framed and tissue- covered models with real propellors and twisted rubber bands for power.
One day, aged 12, I cycled 12 miles to the nearest aerodrome for my first flight, complete with 10 shillings and my box Brownie. Soon, fitted with leather pilot's cap and plugged into the air-powered inter-com system I set off into the atmosphere in the somewhat lonely front cockpit of the Tiger Moth of my dreams.
It was wonderful, that first flight - fresh air on the face, lovely noisy engine, much vibration, half-understood messages from the pilot, and “awesome” views restricted by my lack of size.
I had to hold my camera out the side, and out of view, to get my pictures, but I persevered. The shock came at the 10-minute mark when my back-seat friend announced he was going to help me get my pictures. . . . . We dived on fishing boats, we banked sharply so I could see what I was clicking at, and my stomach started to threaten revolution. All that time I wasn't game to admit that I'd used all my film before that performance started. Worst thing was that the plane's vibration rendered the final prints as a massive blur!
That Tiger Moth flight was the high point (sorry) of my aeronautical career. For National Service, much later, I pre-selected Air Force first, Navy second and Army last. I served in khaki, of course. Later, I tried gliding and that's a really pleasant way to take to the air - provided you don't worry too much about the lack of engine, that is.
Trouble was that I was never able to find the airstrip after launching, and my instructor suffered from airsickness and thus strove valiently to avoid "thermals", so that hobby didn't last long.
The last burst of my flying fever" emerged in my 20s, during my first away-from-home job.I built and flew a series of powered model aircraft for a while, but that didn't last any longer than the morning my landlady discovered I'd seriously scored the laminex top of her kitchen table during a late night building project.
I’ve been at ground level, mostly, ever since!
“Sorry Biggles.”
Monday, June 11, 2007
The really big place
If you want a realistic view of how Australia stands by way of size and population, then have a look at www.chinaview.cn
Monday’s page on this official China Government reports that floods at one end of the country have just killed 66 people. Just a bit further down we read that drought has lowered China’ grain output by 30 million tonnes, this year. They have 100 million broadband users, they’ve produced the world’s first solar powered mobile ‘phone, and China’s Christian Council has conducted a Bible exhibition which has drawn high praise in Germany.
There’s a section devoted to the forthcoming Olympics, and that shows, very effectively how they plan to impress the world generally. Those who organised the first “Olympics” would be amazed!
For most of us, China has long been a sort of vague threatening place – a sort of mass of people whose leaders don’t like us very much. It’s high time, though, that we knew more about this country that buys so much of our coal, gas and minerals and sells us back so many of the items we use every day.
The Chinaview website, available in six languages, paints an impressive picture of modern China. Regardless of potential propaganda “adjustments” it indicates that the Chinese have a fair few of the same domestic, business and administration problems that plague us in “the West”.
Monday’s page on this official China Government reports that floods at one end of the country have just killed 66 people. Just a bit further down we read that drought has lowered China’ grain output by 30 million tonnes, this year. They have 100 million broadband users, they’ve produced the world’s first solar powered mobile ‘phone, and China’s Christian Council has conducted a Bible exhibition which has drawn high praise in Germany.
There’s a section devoted to the forthcoming Olympics, and that shows, very effectively how they plan to impress the world generally. Those who organised the first “Olympics” would be amazed!
For most of us, China has long been a sort of vague threatening place – a sort of mass of people whose leaders don’t like us very much. It’s high time, though, that we knew more about this country that buys so much of our coal, gas and minerals and sells us back so many of the items we use every day.
The Chinaview website, available in six languages, paints an impressive picture of modern China. Regardless of potential propaganda “adjustments” it indicates that the Chinese have a fair few of the same domestic, business and administration problems that plague us in “the West”.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
My Wednesday walk
I go walking with a friend, each Wednesday.
My friend Bill (I'm sure he won't mind me calling him that) and I go out for coffee each Wednesday morning. I drink the Cappucino and he shares the creamy froth and grabs the little chocolate piece that comes on the saucer, and we usually share a small cake or tart. By that time he and I have walked around several suburban blocks, investigated a long-closed butcher's display window, and watched carefully for approaching cars before crossing half a dozen or so intersections.
This week, we inspected the completed paving at one home, met the young couple at the second corner and made friends with their Border Collie dog, and Bill walked all the way along the top of the low brick wall, not far from home.
So, you'll understand why we need to visit that little coffee shop - especially because the best part of the expedition is yet to come. After refreshments, you see, we have to go train watching, from the little park right next to the local station.
Young Bill, by the way, is a bit older than two now. He's my youngest grandson and within our local family, where love and fun is shared equally between him and his sisters, we like to get out on our own . . .Bill's a train "nut". He has at least a dozen "Thomas" train models, a train set that he grudgingly shares with his sisters, plus the required T shirts and hats.
Our rail-side park is a playground, and while we await trains I get the chance to nod to, or chat to, other grandfathers while we push at the swings and catch small bodies launched from the heights of a cubby house, all the while awaiting the call to lift junior onto the fence top to allow waving to the train driver and his passengers.
Why is it that, while train drivers sometimes wave to children, suburban passengers never do?
Anyway, when I've tired of train watching, and pushing, and catching, and lifting, we set off home, the shorter way, where my young charge does the traditional things, like rat-tat-tatting his fingers along the corrugations of several fences, picking up rotten apples and a variety of pebbles, and admiring the fishes painted at the base of one particular power pole, until - about four houses from home and family, the effort gets a bit much and Granddad (also a bit tired) gets to carry this small parcel home.
The nub of it -
At 70, when we settled down and were welcomed into long-term grandparenthood, I wasn't sure I could cope. The mass of nappies (or whaver they call them these days), the previously barely remembered smells, the runny noses and the constant barrage of noise in the the small home was quite confronting.
But they've changed - all of them. The twins are delightful in their so-called "terrible twos" and their older sister (she goes to ballet lessons now) is a delight these days. And me? Well, I've changed too. I'm glad I'm a Grandad and I'm sorry I can't do the job as well with my family inter-state as well.
I have to admit, though, that after a few hours grandfathering, and our morning walk, Bill's not the only one who needs a sleep!
My friend Bill (I'm sure he won't mind me calling him that) and I go out for coffee each Wednesday morning. I drink the Cappucino and he shares the creamy froth and grabs the little chocolate piece that comes on the saucer, and we usually share a small cake or tart. By that time he and I have walked around several suburban blocks, investigated a long-closed butcher's display window, and watched carefully for approaching cars before crossing half a dozen or so intersections.
This week, we inspected the completed paving at one home, met the young couple at the second corner and made friends with their Border Collie dog, and Bill walked all the way along the top of the low brick wall, not far from home.
So, you'll understand why we need to visit that little coffee shop - especially because the best part of the expedition is yet to come. After refreshments, you see, we have to go train watching, from the little park right next to the local station.
Young Bill, by the way, is a bit older than two now. He's my youngest grandson and within our local family, where love and fun is shared equally between him and his sisters, we like to get out on our own . . .Bill's a train "nut". He has at least a dozen "Thomas" train models, a train set that he grudgingly shares with his sisters, plus the required T shirts and hats.
Our rail-side park is a playground, and while we await trains I get the chance to nod to, or chat to, other grandfathers while we push at the swings and catch small bodies launched from the heights of a cubby house, all the while awaiting the call to lift junior onto the fence top to allow waving to the train driver and his passengers.
Why is it that, while train drivers sometimes wave to children, suburban passengers never do?
Anyway, when I've tired of train watching, and pushing, and catching, and lifting, we set off home, the shorter way, where my young charge does the traditional things, like rat-tat-tatting his fingers along the corrugations of several fences, picking up rotten apples and a variety of pebbles, and admiring the fishes painted at the base of one particular power pole, until - about four houses from home and family, the effort gets a bit much and Granddad (also a bit tired) gets to carry this small parcel home.
The nub of it -
At 70, when we settled down and were welcomed into long-term grandparenthood, I wasn't sure I could cope. The mass of nappies (or whaver they call them these days), the previously barely remembered smells, the runny noses and the constant barrage of noise in the the small home was quite confronting.
But they've changed - all of them. The twins are delightful in their so-called "terrible twos" and their older sister (she goes to ballet lessons now) is a delight these days. And me? Well, I've changed too. I'm glad I'm a Grandad and I'm sorry I can't do the job as well with my family inter-state as well.
I have to admit, though, that after a few hours grandfathering, and our morning walk, Bill's not the only one who needs a sleep!
Friday, June 1, 2007
Who's our new PM?
My wife, having read the preceding post, said that I should have told you who will win Australia's forthcoming Federal elections.
"You're not a working journo any more and I bet no-one reads your blog anyway, so why not be brave and announce the winner," she said.
Well, she's right, and she's wrong. I will tell you what I reckon, but I can't forecast a result.
Honestly, I don't yet know which party I want to be our next Government.
I believe that Howard and Co. have done a good job over the recent years. Australia is the better for their efforts, I'm sure. All the same, I reckon we've been governed, recently, more by direction than consultation – as if by some sort of “divine right,” if you see what I mean. It might well be time for a change.
I don't, by the way, have any doubts that Labor's Mr Rudd is an honest, clever and highly motivated candidate for the Prime Ministership, and I'm certain his deputy will put new life and vigor into the industrial relations scene if her team wins the contest.
I worry, though, about the rest of the Labor team, and how many of its candidates owe their place to factional pressures rather than honest political potential.
I have, therefore, a new election-time policy - I'm going to ignore pollsters and commentators completely. I'm going to read the paper, listen to the news, and take my time.
Hopefully, by the time the forms are on the bench and the pencil is in hand, I'll have made a choice.
"You're not a working journo any more and I bet no-one reads your blog anyway, so why not be brave and announce the winner," she said.
Well, she's right, and she's wrong. I will tell you what I reckon, but I can't forecast a result.
Honestly, I don't yet know which party I want to be our next Government.
I believe that Howard and Co. have done a good job over the recent years. Australia is the better for their efforts, I'm sure. All the same, I reckon we've been governed, recently, more by direction than consultation – as if by some sort of “divine right,” if you see what I mean. It might well be time for a change.
I don't, by the way, have any doubts that Labor's Mr Rudd is an honest, clever and highly motivated candidate for the Prime Ministership, and I'm certain his deputy will put new life and vigor into the industrial relations scene if her team wins the contest.
I worry, though, about the rest of the Labor team, and how many of its candidates owe their place to factional pressures rather than honest political potential.
I have, therefore, a new election-time policy - I'm going to ignore pollsters and commentators completely. I'm going to read the paper, listen to the news, and take my time.
Hopefully, by the time the forms are on the bench and the pencil is in hand, I'll have made a choice.
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