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Saturday



GOOD BET, RUBITANO (Apologies M Jagger, K Richards)

Our esteemed turf adviser Magic Mick Manley suggests we'll probably not end the day millionaires but at least we're a good chance to maintain the winning streak.
Mick's tips for Caulfield:
RUBITANO (Race 6, No.3) looks a stand-out. Will be odds on but deserves to be so and should win. For value try CRIMSON GEM (Race 7, No.6) each-way and if the collects have come in back IT'S PLATONIC (Race 8, No.2) to win the last.

And remember, put your tickets in the appointed receptacle.


Friday


PADDY-BASHING

The Guardian, favourite read of the morally superior classes, is in deep doo-doo. The paper that would never publish discriminatory material about a minority -- unless of course, they were male, white, Catholic and possibly Zionist -- has copped a shellacking for bagging the Irish.
THE ELECTRONIC TELEGRAPH gleefully reports that an article by Julie Burchill bemoaned Ken Livingstone's spending on celebrating St Patrick's Day in London. "To celebrate, that is, almost compulsory child molestation by the national church, total discrimination against women who wish to be priests, aiding and abetting Herr Hitler in hour of need, and outlawing abortion and divorce," she wrote. She rammed the point home, describing the national flag as "the Hitler-licking, altarboy-molesting, abortion-banning Irish tricolour".
John Twomey, a social worker at the London Irish Centre, complained to police that the article contravened the Race Relations Act.
The Press Complaints Council is duck-shoving on the issue while a Fenian faction on the Guardian is keeping the row brewing internally.
I can't think of a greater pleasure than watching hypocrisy get exposed.


Thursday



THE LOVE THAT NO-ONE DARE BARK ITS NAME

The sheep of Illinois have given a baa of relief. Governor George Ryan has signed a bill into law that makes it a Class 4 felony to engage in sexual conduct with an animal.
Most people would have thought it was already illegal, but not so in Illinois, it seems. Apparently the law is needed as never before.
The Illinois Leader reports that "veterinarians throughout the state are developing 'rape kits' for animals that have been sexually-assaulted by humans,'' said Ledy VanKavage, legislative director for the Illinois branch of American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA).
"This is a growing problem and it is more widespread than most people know," VanKavage said.


TANKS FOR THE MERCENARY

Professor Bunyip slags Miranda Devine today for her article in the Sydney Morning Herald criticising the proliferation of 4WDs on suburban streets. OK, she leads with the tear-jerk angle, but hey, that's what sells in dumbed-down Oz. But what should be getting up the Prof's avowedly free market goat is that other motorists and taxpayers are subsidising the bimbos and buffoons who can't negotiate suburbia unless it's behind the wheel of a two-tonne inverted porcupine. (You know, the pricks are on the inside).

Devine reveals:
Dodgy politics also keeps a generous taxpayer subsidy on 4WDs. The Federal Government slugs regular cars an import tariff of 15 per cent, while 4WDs, all imported, are taxed just 5 per cent, a hangover from the days when they used to be rural workhorses and not upwardly mobile fashion statements. On a $52,000 Toyota LandCruiser, the subsidy amounts to a $5000 discount. In fact, the savings are so good that Subaru even reportedly raised the suspension of its imported Forester wagon so it could qualify as a 4WD.
So car owners subsidise the so-called Suburban Assault Vehicles which endanger their lives, hog the roads, make driving a war and leave no room in the car parks. Car owners also subsidise 4WDs with their insurance premiums because of the unusually expensive claims which result from the damage and injuries caused by the giant beasts during accidents.
In the United States, some insurers have increased liability rates up to 20 per cent on 4WDs and there has been talk of car owners getting a premium cut of 10 per cent.
In Australia, while the NRMA claimed three years ago to be monitoring claims costs for 4WDs, and was considering its response, a spokeswoman said yesterday she saw no reason to alter premiums. "I don't see why 4WDs would be any different."


Wednesday



WHAT'S A WHITE AUSSIE OF BLACK IRISH DESCENT? A WABID? A WASCALLY ONE, I HOPE

Hitler did it, what's left of the KKK does it. Anyone else with half a brain wouldn't remotely consider it. Perhaps that's why Tony Blair's government does it.
It is sorting your population according to ethnic categories.
Ross Clark in The Spectator exposes Blair's obsession with ethnic pigeon-holing and urges revolt.
Worst of all, the Pom government is exposing kids to this racialism.

What, then, do you say to your children when they bring home in their satchels a questionnaire demanding to know whether they are white, black, Chinese or Gypsy? Over the past few weeks thousands of schoolchildren have received a similar form, asking them to assess their own ‘ethnic identity’. Any child above 11, say the guidance notes for parents, should make the judgment themselves. Children who until now have had no reason to think of themselves as anything other than a human being are being obliged to classify themselves, like a worm in a biology lesson, as belonging to one of 15 species and 65 sub-species, each given a four-letter code. You can, for example, be ‘White British’ (WBRI), a ‘Traveller of Irish Heritage’ (WIRT), a Gypsy Roma (WROM); you can be ‘Black Caribbean’ (BCRB), ‘Chinese’ (CHNE) or — which, until I came across the government’s ethnic classification system, I thought applied only to zebras — a ‘White and Black African’ (MWBA). You cannot — lest anyone should be fooled into thinking that bureaucrats who work in ethnic awareness had succeeded in purging their minds of all prejudice — be a British Chinese or a British Gypsy.


THE HELL YOU WILL

An argument in a Texas trailer park over who was going to heaven and who was going to hell ended with one man shooting another to death with a shotgun, police said on Monday.
Johnny Joslin, 20 was allegedly shot by Clayton Frank Stoker, 21, on Sunday. The two had spent Saturday with two other men night bar hopping in Fort Worth
Later in the trailer park the good ole boys took to arguing about religion. The talk became heated when the subject turned to who would go to heaven and who would go to hell.
The gory details are at YAHOO NEWS.


GOOD AND THE BAD

Scott Wickstein put me onto the latest PJ O'Rourke offering. It's a beaut about the upside of corporate corruption.

PJ concludes:
One last cheering thought: Corporate corruption gives al Qaeda, Hezbollah, and other Muslim radicals second thoughts about messing with the United States. If we'll screw our own grandmothers in the stock market, God knows what we'll do to them.


Tuesday


SMOOCH NAZIS HOLED UP IN COLAC

Institutions for people with special needs are fortunately often staffed by special people. Individuals who know that the simplest gesture of affection has more worth than libraries full of pyschobabble.
Thus. this article in today's Geelong Advertiser enraged me.

A worker at Colac's Colanda intellectual disability centre claims she has been stood down for kissing a client on the cheek.
The woman, who has worked in the mental health sector for many years, said she could see no harm in what she did.
``That's the sort of person I am. I am always calling people love or darl or pet,'' she said.
``I said to the client `I'm going home','' she said.
``I gave him a kiss on the cheek and said `Good night darl, God Bless'.''
The incident was reported by another member of staff.

And in an all-too-infrequent show of courage against politically correct bullies, the woman said she would not guarantee not to do it again.

``A lot of the clients do not get many visitors and we are their family, that's the way I look at my job.
``I think I have been in the industry long enough to know how to treat individual clients.''
The woman said it was not uncommon for staff to give cuddles to clients and clients often responded well to human contact.
``I think the client has the right to be told good night with a kiss on the cheek,'' she said.
A Department of Human Services spokesman said standing down staff was the normal practice in such situations.

And they reckon it's the Colac timber cutters who are fascists.





Monday


CONNECTIONS

There's a couple of personal touchstones in this piece of verse. My father, who was a cattle dealer like his father before him, at some stage earned the nickname 'Starlight' after the famous cattle duffer Harry Readford, who appears here. Not that the old man snaffled cows. The nickname came from that old Australian trait of giving someone a brand so they'd have a place in the scheme of things and a totem in the tribe.
And I once spent a few days in Hughenden in outback Queensland on the highway between Townsville and Mt Isa. It's a pretty quiet place now, known mostly for the dinosaur bones they keep digging up around the district. But there's still a few tough-as-nails, shampoo-with-Solvol old bushies around the ridges to keep alive the tradition of heroic horsemen in a harsh world. And it's nice to know they weren't always blokes.

Today’s AnniVersaries poem by Timoshenko Aslanidis.
(Published by Brandl & Schlesinger Pty Ltd
PO Box 276 Rose Bay NSW 2029 Australia
brandlschlesinger@compuserve.com

HANNAH ‘RED JACK’ GLENNON
EMERGES FROM THE BUSH

Friday, July 29, 1898

They say Nat Buchanan settled more new country than others;
that those grass castles and contingent droving tracks
-- Murran-ji more famously – are down to him. And were.
That he went without water better than camels. And did.
And marvel how Harry ‘Starlight’ Readford stole those beasts,
that bull, and walked them almost to Adelaide.
But no one rode a horse like Hannah ‘Red Jack’ Glennon.
Gentle patient skill convinced her mount
that she could hold should it shy at shadow in Bulwaddi scrub;
that she would find them water regardless of season.
And should thunder crack as celestial whip and wheel the mob,
That she could save each horse, herself and cattle.
‘Any mail?’ she asked of the Cobb and Co. coach into Hughenden.
Everyone knew her, so it was how many letters, not whether.
And everyone helped in the rummage for story to hand to legend,
To punctuate their waiting conversation,
And then their thoughts as she rode off, tall, her bright-red hair
Trailing a permanent thirst for the outback life.


Sunday


DICKY WHACKER

Remember Richard Neville? Hippy prat and shameless self-promoter who published whoppers in the 60s.
He's still around. Not much has changed.
He's got this exclusive on his site.
It was a chilling moment, watching the Afghani civilian, his face a digitised mask, describe how the American soldier cut off the tongue of a Taliban prisoner of war: "the Americans did whatever they wanted. We had no power to stop them." Another witness claims he saw a US soldier break an Afghan prisoner’s neck and douse others in acid. A doco produced by Britisher Jamie Doran, Massacre at Mazar, claims that around 30 or 40 US Special Forces took part in the torture of Taliban prisoners at Shebarghan in north-west Afghanistan and almost certainly had a role in the "disappearance" of around 3,000 others.

Credibility? Well, it's been shown to European politicians.

It's all explained by Dicky further down. It's Vietnam revisited:

A couple of years ago it was reported that doctors in Britain had diagnosed a new disease afflicting ageing baby boomers –spontaneous acid flashback. People who took LSD in the sixties and now lived respectable lives - lawyers, teachers, financial advisors – were suddenly struck with powerful psychedelic hallucinations, swept back into a past of strawberry fields, yellow submarines and marmalade skies. Everything around them is suddenly surreal.

So there you go Dicky, a cup of dandelion tea, a couple of valium and a good lie down, there's a good boy.




JUST THE BEGINNING

Right, now we're into a horse-tipping routine. Magic Mick Manley's tip of the day, Green Pick, got up to return $25 for a $10 outlay, eliminating my $15 loss on Sand Belt (described by Geelong horseflesh owner Daryl Craven, as a "Cat''). Mick's each way saver Channon Royale did little with the good run afforded it by Steven King and straggled in 8th. Reckon Mick might have started a golden run with his tips of the day.


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