Tag: Scott Morrison

SOLD SHORT

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Can someone pass me a shovel? I need to dig up the last of Bill Shorten’s conscience…

Well, I can either do that or continue hoeing out this trench that Labor and the Coalition have dug from the coffers of Getup! straight to the entrance of the polling booths. I wonder if they realise that for a supposedly benevolent entity a cursory glance at their website reveals ground zero for a Labor policy post-it note apocalypse… At this point they are more-or-less a slipway made from decomposing fliers and coconut oil. Not that anyone is bothering to question how much wasteful paraphernalia accumulates during an election campaign – we’re simply offering the odd lofted eyebrow in the direction of hypocrisy while side-eyeing the current definition of ‘independent’.

To borrow an overused metaphor from a naked, raving Remainer and employ it properly – as a voter, it is a tad nauseating to watch Scott Morrison and Bill Shorten lock arms and stroll a unity ticket along the Yellow Brick Road, leading Australia through the gates of the Emerald City in which every citizen is commanded to wear green-tinted glasses to perpetrate the fallacy that the walls are ‘renewable’. At the end of the day, this morally vacuous civilisation created from Labor’s utopia is a sad melee of smoke and mirrors – if only we had Julie Bishop’s glittering red shoes to tap together and takes us back to reality. I’m kidding. We’re well rid of the shoes. No seriously – enough about the shoes. They’re safely in a museum which is exactly where shallow politicking should be laid to rest.

The truth is, if you resort to motivating the voting base with a manufactured apocalypse – if you have to employ baseless fear as currency – then the moral bankruptcy of Australian politics has well and truly fallen off the ledge. That roar from Twitter is the wind in our hair as we hurtle toward the ocean of Social Justice, Union thuggery, the erosion of civil liberty and theft of private enterprise. Here we are, base jumping without a parachute.

Certainly, the percentages of ‘crazy’ shift a little between Labor and the LNP. While the small print of their policies aren’t quite carbon copies (give me some credit for that pun) their souls are weighed equal on the metaphoric scales of misery. Poverty. Exorbitant electricity prices. Woeful unreliability. Big renewable share portfolio returns. Foreign ownership of Australian power. Most terrifyingly, we’re being offered an energy solution whose net impact from birth to grave on the environment is worse than any ailing coal fired plant.

The simple truth is that we have entered an age where our leaders actively sabotage the environment to sell the lie of ‘virtue’ in order to earn power while the actual power we require is stuttering towards catastrophic failure. These are the last days of Rome…

Here lies the real problem.

Scientists on the renewables payroll do everything they can to disguise the hefty environmental cost of their money-making pets Solar and Wind energy while blindfolding the public to Nuclear’s graces. Debates about the tumultuous state of the climate are irrelevant when the reality of these ‘clean’ industries is that they are filthy ventures with all unpalatable ecological damage kept away from scrutiny. They exist, almost solely, for share portfolio gain but when the time comes and they are challenged to stand and deliver their energy mandate we’re going to find a rudely empty stage and a few crumpled campaign fliers.

For the unaware, these idolised technologies Solar and Wind require China’s sprawl of toxic rare earth mines to trash swathes of land – ruining rural communities and their surrounding areas with radioactive sludge all in search of a finite resource desperately needed for more important technologies.

The mining and transport is fossil fuel intensive whilst the steel has to be smelted with the use of good old coal furnaces. Rare earth materials vacuumed up by solar panels and wind turbines aren’t geologically rare – they are ‘diffuse’ simply meaning that you have to dig up an awful lot of dirt to get something useful. Enormous – open – pit – mines. Neodymium, Indium, Tellurium, Dysprosium – China uses them all as a stick to smack Western markets across the face with whenever it suits them. That is the risk of doing business with a Communist dictatorship. China’s rare earth companies were forcibly amalgamated into six government owned bodies which, somewhat foolishly, Western leaders have decided to bank their entire energy security futures on.

Even without the brewing geopolitical climate ramping up a few degrees, per kilowatt of power eventually produced by renewables, they stockpile orders of magnitude more waste than a Nuclear plant. Uncomfortably for the greener members of the audience, the only power generation technology whose waste is entirely self contained for proper disposal is Nuclear which also has the highest level of scrutiny and law. Indeed, if your serious intention is to the save the environment, on paper Solar and Wind would be your last choice for net devastation vs return. Only an individual blinded by prejudice could review the studies sighted at the European Union and write Nuclear off.

The only question left for Australia is whether or not our economy will survive the renewables social experiment.

Whether the alarmist, apocalypse profiteering mongers like it or not, Nuclear and exciting fusion-based power generators are our future. The energy negative systems of Solar and Wind, with their impossible land footprints required to meet demand (consuming entire countries) are a dead end vanity street. Necessity will eventually outweigh our virtue. Sure – but at present we are the foolish explorer wandering the desert, dropping our water supply on the promise of a mirage.

For maximum irritation to our fragile friends in generation #metoo I shall use a gender-analogy to explain the concept of a ‘net energy negative system’. It is important to understand the severity of the flaw renewables present to the world because it is insurmountable.

Let’s pretend that Coal Fired, Natural Gas, Hydro and Nuclear power generation stations are country towns. Contained within these communities are men and women. If left to their own devices over the next fifty years their net population will increase as they have lots of babies. Great. Civilisation 1.01.

Nearby towns Solar and Wind have only men. They can make some buildings – they’ve got a half decent street and one or two e-cars but no matter how long you leave them their net population will degrade until eventually they die out entirely. If they want to maintain their civilisation, they have to travel to our big towns Coal, Gas, Hydro or Nuclear to make families.

In other words, Solar and Wind consume more energy than they ever create.

And so the reality is that in a world with only renewable technologies on offer they do not meet the base requirement to be self perpetuating which is exactly why they were always envisioned as situation specific, supplementary energy sources. No one is saying a solar panel on a farm gate is a crime or that a windmill in a remote area thousands of miles from the grid can’t be of use – we’re saying you can’t power cities and civilisations with them.

Kindly described as ‘difficult’ to recycle – ‘impossible’ is a closer approximation. In the case of wind turbines, the thermosetting matrix and glass fibre composition of their blades can never be remoulded into other products. The damages of wear and critical failure fatigue to its components almost exclusively make them unsuitable for reuse meaning that when one piece of the wind turbine breaks or something smashes your solar panel you are usually forced to replace the entire installation. If you’re wondering why we can’t melt the components down and start again, it is because the heat required irrecoverably destroys the quality of the material. Of course, the biggest problem is the price tag. Think Trump’s wall hurts the budget? You should see what the bill is to recycle a few ‘renewables’.

We haven’t even spoken of the concrete and steel required for these playgrounds of noise. In case you were wondering – no – it’s not a ‘carbon neutral’ activity.

5% of global carbon dioxide emissions originate during the production of cement while 7% comes from manufacturing steel. Renewables are quickly adding themselves to the count. In short, fossil fuels are required to build these renewable technologies even if the brochure doesn’t show the coal stack. Infinitely worse we are wasting the resource to construct power-weak technologies that need constant replacing. It is like spending 5 billion dollars to print 500 dollar notes. In short, it’s a bad return on investment.

Summary figures suggest that 1MW of wind capacity requires 103 tonnes of stainless steel, 402 tonnes of concrete, 6.8 tonnes of fibreglass, 3 tonnes of copper and 20 tonnes of cast iron. To replace global power with wind would require 10TW (terrawatts) of wind capacity. Now run those numbers again…

Okay – so we can agree that sucks but I’m on the Solar-Train! (You declare). I hate to break it to you but the production, lifespan and grave of photovoltaic panels leave some pretty nasty piles of liquid and gas waste running into the waterways. Everything from the extraction of the raw materials to the additives and furnaces needed to turn them into benign looking solar panels would make even the most moderate Green twitch. Indeed, China is dealing with a mounting waste problem and protests such as those Haining in Zhejia (a village surrounding Zhejiang Jink Solar Co. Ltd.). As villagers riot the careless destruction of their rivers they are beaten into silence by the regime struggling to keep their contracts with the virtuous West.

“The factory has been polluting us all this while and now that we make some noise, the government shuts us up. They are all in this together, now we just have to die here silently. You can see all these riot police here, we are just helpless villagers.” – A quote from one of the village elders, taken from Reuters.com

While there are emerging technologies available to reduce (but not mitigate) the destructive force of this process, the majority of renewables are produced in China at the cheapest possible production cost. A generous estimate is that it takes a year for a solar panel to cancel out its production emission but come the end of its life (listed as 30 years but the reality is far shorter particularly in the face of hail storms), it must be classified as ‘special waste’. Like wind turbines, solar panels are full of material considered hazardous and economically un-viable to recycle.

What we are doing is creating a future landfill of toxic material that – unlike Nuclear waste – won’t breakdown on its own to something innocuous. Heavy metals are stable and for all the fuss made over our plastic shopping bags we’re happy to put the worst of the worst into the ground. At the end of the day, less than 11% of the solar panel is recyclable and there’s no money to be made in doing it – in fact, it costs money.

We haven’t even crossed the bridge over the quagmire of batteries and transformers or the bat and bird slaughtering wind turbines somehow exempt from legislation designed to protect rare predatory birds. Actually, these two particular renewables require a remarkable ‘scorched earth’ approach to the landscape. We live with the irony that you can’t temporarily clear land for a mine but you can tear it up for a solar farm. I’m not sure if the Black-Throated Finches can tell the difference.

Sunlight might appear to be ‘free’ but let’s not forget that we’re in orbit around a very efficient nuclear fusion reactor – the holy grail of power generation. It’s having a grand old time transforming 620 million metric tons of Hydrogen into 606 million metric tones of Helium every single second. The result is light, viciously charged winds that buffet the Earth and the supposed, ‘free energy’ of immense heat hitting the solar panels on your roof. Remember, budding Socialists, just because you didn’t pay for it, doesn’t mean it was ‘free’.

The simple, uncomfortable fact is that the only mass-producing, cheap and efficient renewable technologies within our immediate reach are Geothermal and Hydro. No, not the imitation Snowy-Hydro scheme 2.0 pumping water up and down at a net loss, proper old school Hydro like the station at Niagara Falls that churns out power day and night. We should remind ourselves of Nikola Tesla’s words upon the opening of Niagara Falls’ Hydro Electric Power Station.

“We have many a monument of past ages; we have the palaces and pyramids, the temples of the Greeks and the cathedrals of Christendom. In them is exemplified the power of men, the greatness of nations, the love of art and religious devotion. But the monument at Niagara has something of its own, more in accord with our present thoughts and tendencies. It is a monument worthy of our scientific age, a true monument of enlightenment and of peace. It signifies the subjugation of natural forces to the service of man, the discontinuance of barbarous methods, the relieving of millions from want and suffering.” – Nikola Tesla

Where are the giants of our age? Where are the ambitious, brilliant minds wading into the world to build great things? They are dead. The regressive hearts of the Left have killed them and cast mediocrity and absurdity in their wake.

Harnessing Niagara was never about playing politics, it was an opportunity to fill a desperate need of the growing population by taming a powerful natural force.

Unfortunately Australia is at a disadvantage for the realistic renewable energy market. We don’t have a handy fault line to latch a Geothermal powerhouse onto meanwhile Hydro, whether you like it or not, requires a fair bit of environmental interruption to river systems which isn’t a brilliant idea in a flood and drought ravaged landmass like Australia – unless you count Tasmania, which we mainlanders try not to.

We have got a blindingly obvious answer glowing in the deserts every night but no one wants to talk about Nuclear because we like to give ourselves handicaps for no good reason. While the kids over at ITER play at making miniature stars, the rest of us heathens have some workable alternatives.

With evidence mounting that renewables are the worst fit for our energy environment, presumptive heir Bill Shorten and terrified king Scott Morrison print the treacherous slogans of the Paris Agreement across their chests and scream from the flanks of parliament, begging for money – always more money – to prop up the UN’s paper castle.

The proverbial shit is headed toward the fan.

As we’ve long been told by angry Climate Alarmists, Nuclear reactors take time to build (as if this in itself is a failing). Indeed, useful things often take time to construct. So, as the Green’s march to close our existing Coal Fired plants, the burden of baseload has started to exasperate the grid into alarming palpitations. Eventually, during one of these blackouts, an engineer will whisper to the surviving politician that a First World country is about to face a sudden regression into the Dark Ages. Queensland and Tasmania will be the only states with 21st century lights while the rest of us stare down the barrel of a very real, very serious logistical disaster.

Without power a civilisation is nothing. We’re only ever a light switch away from the caves. Living on a farm, we’re often left with week long stretches carting water from the paddock, living by candlelight, cooking with gas and charging our phones in our diesel car. I’m not sure Sydney would take kindly to the same experience.

Now, with bags of gold changing hands beneath the table and shallow ideology driving our politics, I can’t help but wonder if the Australian people are being sold short.

In the mean time, while we await our epoch downgrade, I have set calendar reminders for every new climate change hoax that comes across my desk in what should amount to half a century of gloating. At least I resisted the urge to turn it into a drinking game. Cheers!

-ellymelly

Posted on by ellymelly 1

DARTH VADER WOULD BE PROUD

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A round of applause please.

Aw come on, you have to admit that Germany had a pretty good crack at world domination – and not for the first, second or even third time.

Sure, I’ll concede that she’s been keeping it on the quiet like a shameful affair and that the details were shuffled under a few billion tonnes of messy United Nations compacts. Absolutely it was dusted with handshaking pleasantries before the coherency-catastrophe was wrapped up with a virtuous, bright green bow. In fairness the whole venture was nearly squashed beneath the collective weight of competing egos as they jostled for bureaucratic paper crowns. It was only a couple of accidental causalities later with blood staining the balance sheet that one could confidently say that there was a definite pass made toward a totalitarian global regime.

The European Union has been busy shedding its pacifist skin in the last few years. Whatever racy negligée it previously used to lure ailing states into the fold, it has now shattered the romantic façade and waded into the brawl with fists raised. National Sovereignty, aye? No – that’s no longer a thing. We prefer the ‘Vassal State’ pronoun these days. No – that’s not optional. Freedom is hate speech.

So, this hot mess of a modus operandi was rolled out and presented to the world amidst a crusade of love against the forces of darkness. Stay with me. As it turns out, it is possible to sell ruthless dictatorships on the coattails of peace.

‘There lurk,’ went the uninspired narrative of the Globalists, ‘dark waters ahead. Literally. Rising tides. Hell-fire and brimstone. Global catastrophe…’ It’s all a bit ‘Noah’s ark 2.0’ for those who still subscribe to a world that begins and ends at the nearest café. Does it have any roots feeling out the edges of reality? Hardly – but that’s not usually a requirement for a policy splicing DNA with a Hollywood script.

But a spade is a spade is a bloody spade…

…and this one is digging a hole right through the crust of the Earth’s fragile peace.

Usually more up front about their warmongering schemes, Angela Merkel & Co actually managed to lay a few hefty foundation stones along with a bit of the scaffolding for the palace long before seeking council approval. Heck, her friends in France were busy selling lots off the plan when the roof finally fell in and dampened the mood with a dash of popular revolt. There’s a reason the French set fire to the streets of Paris every weekend and threaten to dust off a guillotine and it doesn’t have much to do with bold, colour-blocking fashion choices.

To be fair, it really is our fault for not noticing the chess pieces moving around us sooner.

The parties involved did not put a great deal of effort into hiding their nefarious intentions – brazenly publishing most of the schematics alongside press releases that might as well have read, ‘World Domination – Part I Subsection VII’ for all the shoddy window dressing. Indeed, let’s have a look at what they got up to while the rest of us working our guts out in the real world were singing Kumbaya to the slightly drunk climate gods.

Firstly, if your goal is to create a Global Rule you need to warm everyone up to the idea of a united Earth.

This is one of those fuzzy concepts that sound innocuous at a glance on a highway billboard but has a sinister undercurrent sucking freedom out with the tide like a rip. There’s a very dark reason two generations of our fellow citizens suffered through a schooling indoctrination campaign waged on children by outcasts of the last failed Communist remainers. Taking a leaf from their successful manifesto, to steal the future you corrupt the children and so that is exactly what they did. They poisoned the young against the very concept of their nation – erased our great histories and figures but perhaps most shamefully, taught our children to spurn the freedoms their ancestors died for. For lack of a better description, it is ‘rational nihilism’.

Saddled with imagined guilt, crippled by fantasy victim-hood and robbed of the necessary reasoning skills needed to spot a charlatan, these children plunged into the vacuous world of hashtag-politics. After that, all the puppeteers needed was time – time for those children to grow up, filter through the second training camp of university and have enough birthdays to reach voting age.

There you have it – majority rule with interest from idiots.

By this point it doesn’t matter that the Globalists arguments have about as much depth as a mirage or the structural integrity of a pop-up book. All that’s needed are a few party tricks to sell the lie and a bit of duct tape to keep the contrarians from asking pointed questions. Wondering why censorship has come back into favour? It is the favourite craft of all theologies.

Cults are dangerous, particularly death cults.

If you don’t think Globalism meets that criteria, ask yourself why their chief pillar is Climate Change and their dogma is the immediate but flexible apocalypse. Come on kids, this is an old trick in new wrapping. Oh ye faithful – repent for the sins of your birth – the colour of your skin, the actions of your forefathers and your imagined privilege. You can buy your way out of this purgatory by subscribing to these virtuous mantras and donating to the temple of Climate Alarmism…

So far we have a flock of sheep, a dangerous idea and a pit of brimstone generating revenue.

What else would be handy? A bank, laws and courts beholden to no one, undemocratic jailers and a few useful idiots wouldn’t go astray…

The World Bank is like the anti-virus software no one asked for. It arrives infested on the motherboard, operating unnoticed in the background until you try and do something important and realise that your entire life is beholden to a programme you never approved of. Not only are its credentials notoriously shonky, the World Bank’s arms have taken root in the festering economies of failed nation states and dictator-run dystopias. Despite internal audits coming up with a few alarming corruption scandals it continues to house the syphoned billions from the West’s delusional ‘Climate Funds’.

Enter the United Nations Court of Justice dreamt up to keep an eye on the school yard antics of nation states. With Somalia as its president and China the acting Vice, good luck extracting anything resembling justice and yet paradoxically is also ultimately a frivolous endeavour. Like most social justice drenched travesties, everyone has spent so much time appeasing each other’s feelings that the court itself is left with no real power to dish out or enforce its rulings in the off chance that they manage to agree on anything. At the end of the day it is an expensive waste of money that buys little more than a teacher with their back turned – and that is being generous.

The CJEU – or, ‘Court of Justice of the European Union’ has a little more gusto but barely. Although it enjoys lauding its gonads with excessive buildings erected in its honour and eye-watering public servant payrolls European Law is essentially a gentleman’s agreement that asserts the right to override sovereign law but whose decisions are so mad – even by European standards – that most of the time they’re politely told to take a hike and mind their own business. As with most entities in the EU you get twice the cost, half the value with the monster separated into the Court of Justice and the General Court – both of which are so bloated under middling bureaucracy that they’re in danger of floating off like a lost weather balloon.

The supremacy (sometimes politely referred to as ‘primacy’) of European Law has the gall to railroad laws created by the citizens of those allegedly independent countries who are a bit blind-sighted by what started as a trade agreement morphing into a totalitarian regime. It’s no surprise that when the courts rekindle something pre-Bronze Age like blasphemy laws, civilised nations enter open defiance. Citizens of these great nations, who were largely unaware of the extent to which their civil power had been eroded, are starting to raise a few vocal objections in the form of referenda and protests.

However in principle – we have the framework of a global legal system.

The crucial feature of this Globalist ‘parliament’ is the lack of democratic election. Between the UN and the EU, representatives are by in large selected by bureaucrats and operate behind closed doors answerable to no one unlike the open parliamentary systems that countries went to great care to construct after learning some hard lessons from unscrupulous leaders. Without a popular vote tugging on the choker chain of tyranny, a veritable brush of self-interested career demi-gods tussle for power, anointing each other in echo chambers free from criticism.

There was a good chance that this carefully laid plan might have succeeded – at least for the European continent – if it had not been for the historical bastion of freedom lofting an eyebrow of scrutiny early on.

It’s not that the United Kingdom doesn’t trust Germany and France with the reins of power – it’s that they absolutely don’t trust Germany or France with the reins of power.

With the last – shall we say – disagreement still very much in the memory of the people, some of the ridiculous regulations being exacted upon them drew a curious eye. That curious eye widened when it discovered that, on the quiet, their politicians had lashed them to a nightmare resurrection of everything the British people fought to free themselves of in the first place.

Naturally irritated, the UK told their politicians to do their job and give the EU the flick. Other countries that had been weighing up their options revisited their exit strategies and suddenly, like an overstretched elastic band, the whole thing snapped. It became clear that the leaders of the EU were prepared to ransom, blackmail and threaten the UK while engaging in open intimidation of member states. Some of its revered leaders like President of the ALDE Group Guy Verhofstadt went slightly off the peace message when shouting, “…and that is the real problem, colleagues – why there is such a problem in this crisis – because member states are reluctant to transfer new sovereignty and powers to the European Union and we all know that the only way out of this crisis is a new transfer of powers to the European Union and to the European institutions.”

…Sure, Sparky. Countries that fought and died for thousands of years to earn their freedom are totally going to hand it over to a raging lunatic for – well – no reason. Verhofstadt is a shouty, miniature version of the worst political dregs that the European Union was designed to prevent. They’re now full swing into censorship laws to make sure any discontent is smothered by a few thick content filters. Nothing to see here… Except perhaps the smoke rising from the capital cities of several ‘peaceful’ states.

If you’re not caught up in the toxic swamps of the European Union where nations like Germany still think it’s okay to threaten Poland, never fear because you always have the United Nations and their sprawling library of anti-democratic compacts and treaties to tear apart your domestic law. Their main goal is the redistribution of global wealth and people so – as US President Donald Trump worked out in the first five seconds of hearing the marketing pitch – it’s a pretty bad idea for Western democracies. A hard pass.

Scott Morrison swiped-right on the Paris Agreement, which is sort of like agreeing to bankruptcy but not the firing squad… Thanks, bro. (Sarcasm).

In summary, what this sage swamp of detestable players amounts to is a money-making, power-building pyramid scam benefiting the elite at the expense of the poor. It was an attempt to re-establish control for the select few which had been eroded by centuries of democrat reform by our brave ancestors and it very nearly worked. If it hadn’t been for BREXIT it’s entirely possible the choke hold over democracy might have been too tight.

Ultimately, who do we have to thank for BREXIT cracking the veneer? That’d be our Globalist mastermind Angela Merkel and her colossal error. Inviting the third world to invade Europe pretty much destroyed the lies of a multicultural, globalist utopia which the United Nations were doing their best to sell. No orator in the world, however brilliant, can override lived experience. No conman can sell salt water to a sailor. Merkel made the mistake of allowing Europe a glimpse of their future and – like peeking through the gates of Hell – her people revolted. Doors slammed on all sides and the weakest members of the Globalist pack have found themselves dragged towards worrying scaffolds.

In here, somewhere, there is a twin lesson.

You cannot enslave free people without showing your hand because they can feel the chains before the lock is secured.

World domination has never and will never succeed – even with the best laid plans. Humans are tribal. It takes either extreme force or a tide of good will to maintain control and you can never have enough of either to sustain global dominance.

It’s just not, ‘a thing’ guys…

Give it up before you’re three inches deep in black plastic with a breathing apparatus and cape fastened to your shoulders.

-ellymelly

Posted on by ellymelly 1

THE DEATH OF DEMOCRACY

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On Saturday 5th of January 2019, Australia’s Prime Minister Scott Morrison awoke to a gift horse.

No… Not a slap-up Greek steed with a belly full of semi-naked warriors – a genuine present with embossed wrapping paper, over-sized bow, card and ridiculous balloon tied on, bobbing about for good measure.

Presumably ecstatic at this reprieve from a stricken election campaign, ScoMo stumbled out onto a mysterious red carpet that had been stretched through the metaphoric streets of Melbourne by an enthusiastic crowd of locals. At the end of this velvet river waited a line of Press dripping sweat in the Summer heat, holding iphones in place of cameras.

Amassed behind, a cheer squad of the Prime Minister’s loyalists brandished banners, wore LNP shirts – blue hats and had glitter hearts painted on their cheeks. ScoMo shuffled nervously. They quietened. His hands raised – holding their expectant gaze so long that a stray Netflix lawyer stopped to flinch. Finally captivated, the entire nation paused to take a breath as Scomo –

– shook a jerry-can of petrol over himself and struck a match.

We’ll come back to Saturday’s BBQ in a minute.

It is true to say that even the swamp-ish waters of the Garonne can blush. From their birth in the canopy of the Pyrenees, the river winds its way into France, brushing against places of famed debauchery and historical intrigue. By the time its waters languish around the pale stone walls of Bordeaux they have settled into a lake-like wound. They divide the romantic setting whose lavish farmlands iridesce against the horizon’s curve while salt rushes up the river’s throat from the Bay of Biscay, agitating muck from the bottom all year-round giving the Garonne its famed café au lait waters.

In the opening decades of the 8th Century, a different kind of tide turned.

Unannounced, an 80,000 strong horde of seasoned warriors cut their way over the choppy Pyrenees. From the South, they shadowed the beautiful river, decimating settlements before engaging in unprovoked slaughter on Bordeaux. Pure, unforgiving conquest sent a cascade of blood down the city’s stone promenades. Her people’s souls coalesced in the cracks and merged into a flood that stained the rock from pinnacle to footing. Eventually the torrent slipped into the murk of the river, mingling with the rest of the decay. Massacre turned the Garonne into the mimic of spoiled wine.

From their graves, those slain but not yet surrendered had time to watch the Saracens pick through the ruins of the city. Described later as a, ‘storm upon the land’ their weapons beat skulls and statues alike, reducing the French landscape to rubble. Bones picked clean, they grasped their swords and continued West toward the coast.

This was the barbarous Islamic invasion of Gaul – the Umayyad Caliphate which tore the religious heart from Southern Europe – plundering, murdering and raping everything they came across. It was not until 759 CE that they found defeat. Facing annihilation, Pépin the Short crushed the Muslim incursion into Europe, paying for his victory with pints of French blood. In the decades that followed the invaders were pushed back, city by city, over the mountains to their desert birth until his son (and French hero) Charlemagne finished off the job, securing the borders from terror.

This was the second of four Islamic caliphates to gnaw into the European continent. The machine of Political Islam is one of absolute conquest in contrast to the principles of colonial settlement or Roman campaigns to coax tax paying city states into the fold. Caliphates hold an absolutist standpoint. Convert or die. The ultimatum prompts a fight or flight response in kings who warily eye the dripping edge of a Saracen sword. Its previous kills are those who boasted of peace treaties and appeasements – all of which fell empty at the feet of the ruling theocracy. The foolish who tried these half measures litter the deserts of Arabia, white and cold under the sand.

Surely, thought the nobles inside Bordeaux’s dusty walls, they would be safe from this system of blood if they remained cordial with their Islamic neighbours?

bordeaux
Bordeaux by the river Garonne.

It is not true to assume that absence from the game of thrones protects you from warring ambitions. Expansionist nations in a region will always pounce upon the apathetic.

The passive might experience a moment of regret as they bleed out into the river. Where are the strong? They may ask, clawing at the mud. Where were the riders with our advance warning? The riders were cursed into silence for spreading fear and the strong were not welcome in the city so they retired to the mountain peaks to watch the savage proceedings.

Despite the tragedy, the slain of Bordeaux proved something worth learning by their deaths. The threads of civilisation are never grounded in more than a veneer of dirt. A dynasty built over a thousand years can be razed in a single afternoon and forgotten before the week is out. There is no point looking to the gods. They watch idly with no interest in whom is left to inherit the world at their feet – to them all our noise is worthy entertainment. Think then of chaos as our mantle and its force powerful enough to crack the bedrock of nations.

Sometimes the rising sun is only a sea of flames scaling the mountains and the long stretches of night are besieged cities wallowing beneath black smoke. War is where we learn peace and the blade is our tutor.

Knowing this, a wise man would never build his city over a tectonic rift or prop his house beside a smouldering scar. If forced to live amongst fire he must have high walls and keen eyes.

Australia is lucky enough to find itself at the centre of an uncommonly thick plate that doesn’t have any serious plans for the next hundred million years.

Not content with the safety of our nightmare northern swamp, the sweeping deserts lapping between coasts or even the substantial ocean moat – our politicians are keen to create cracks in the crust. Cut and bruised, our neglectful foreign policy knocks up a Facebook invite to the dozing caliphate and welcomes them over for a barbecue if only to complete a round of social justice bingo.

And so begin the scuffles. The odd glint in the sun. These are the fragments of a raging caliphate camouflaged by virtue with the paint wearing thin.

Multiculturalism is all wonderful until you run into a tyrannical monoculture with a history of terror. It is time we faced up to the reality that by in large Islam is a political religion of conquest – one that has not been dragged over the racks of civilisation like its Abrahamic cousins and forced to reform itself into something approaching civility. Political Islam’s only reformation of note is a willingness to adapt its claws to post-war hangovers, utilising the West’s perceived guilt-complex against historically naive elitists, ingratiating itself as a victim-hood poster child whilst simultaneously abusing the cultures who open their borders and wallets.

When conquest comes at us via the sword, it triggers self defence. Up we go, emboldened by fear like our fallen kin, to man the walls of the city against the barbarian horde. We’ll stand with our faces covered in mud and roar for all we’re worth. This is how Islam came at the West for 1,400 years and for 1,400 years the West survived.

Conquest by political theory is insidious.

Parasitic, it feeds off the host culture, making itself stronger until the final blow comes as an abysmal ‘tap’ on the shoulder. Once thriving cities have been transforming into no-go zones, run under parallel legal systems barely recognisable to terrified locals who have become strangers in their own country.

At first it is the torn remnants of history’s page – scratched out names and marble dust from destroyed statues underfoot. Then it’s burning libraries, online retcons and a renewed fervour for archaic terror. It becomes offensive to question and blasphemous to criticise. The moral victories of the Enlightenment are replaced by desert barbarity and even as women are segregated into a second, slave class the bravest feminist warrior looks the other way either too polite or stupid to protest the erosion of liberty.

We already stand at the point where the bookmarks of our history have been cast safely out of sight. Our leaders delight in telling us that our culture is vacuous. One might dare to argue that this is the fault of those who stoke the pyres with our history.

If Political Islam fails then we’ll see that rusted scimitar. Finally we’ll realise how close our necks have been to the blade – revolt and derail the caliphate once more.

All of this is fair enough but what does it have to do with ScoMo and his faux pas with a gas can?

Democracy is a political mutation. An absolute fluke. While it remains the only political framework to breed freedom it is also the most vulnerable to external threat. Compared to totalitarian subsets of Communism, Theocracy, Dictatorship and Socialism, the democratic behemoths of the world lumber into their sensible but slow futures.

Endurance has always been a race of the steady.

Democracy’s poster child is the Constitutional Monarchy – a ‘gotcha’ catch 22 of power that derails ambitious politicians and tyrannical rulers alike. It is unique in that the head of state has both absolute power and no power at all, useful mostly as the gatekeeper of freedom and swooning sideshow for the people. A soul, if you will, that trumps the republican system.

It is not perfect.

Democracy grounds itself in Aristotle’s observation of group behaviour also known as, ‘the wisdom of the crowd’. The merits of group theory’s application to political selection is well founded and true. On average, a random crowd of mixed ability, class and philosophical persuasion make better political decisions than carefully picked experts. There is an inherit intelligence in the ‘mob’ that defies logic except perhaps to say that competing personal interests tend to result in morally sound outcomes. There is no doubt that our devotion to the public vote is the surest way to maintain our freedom. Australia’s compulsory vote makes it even harder to manipulate the already wrought iron system.

However, there is an oversight.

Group theory works when the population is raised on the Western aspirations of freedom. The participants must value the process or at worst be ambivalent to it. Democracy is wide open to subversion when a populace can be manipulated to act as an arm of a political usurper. A caliphate is an imported theological movement that has been aware of this trick for centuries. Essentially conquest boils down to a numbers game, whether on the battlefield or the ballot box and they have the numbers.

This is Aristotle’s oversight.

He did not envisage the horror of a society brainwashed into slavery who would use democracy’s principles of freedom to shackle the chains around their own ankles or a civilisation careless enough to import a rival state. This crack in the armour is not fiction nor is it a future fancy – it has been happening for hundreds of years. Left unchecked, one day Australia will not be free to control her laws or use democracy’s mantle to save herself from the Saracen oppressor. Like Bordeaux, she will become a vassal of the global caliphate.

Some can sense the danger. The noise of discontent rumbles out of the major cities where the smoke has been seen rising for years. Scott Morrison found himself standing in the smouldering corpse of a warning fire – treading a scarlet carpet.

To his credit, the Prime Minister is a repeat bonfire survivor. Like Daenerys Targaryen he once hatched eggs in the pyre of a fallen lord but Morrison is no divine ruler and his eggs are not his children but laid instead by Labor’s cuckoo Malcolm Turnbull. Now he’s struggling to feed dragons and writing his campaign promises in charcoal.

Perhaps this traumatic experience is why he misjudged Melbourne’s disquiet toward African Gang Violence. Could it explain his continual policy of ambivalence regarding the rise of honour killing, FGM, child marriage and sexual slavery? Let us be generous and suggest it was the reason he allowed himself to be distracted by ‘Press narratives’ instead of the slow burn of citizen frustration backed by tangible crime figures.

He was gifted the perfect opportunity to open a conversation about the behaviour of certain groups welcomed to our shores who have so far refused to participate in the spirit of this once great country – to insist that the law be applied equally instead of ideologically by police more interested in thought crime and censorship than actual violence.

We are on the verge of multiculturalism becoming a separatist movement, screaming autonomy as it has done countless times across Asia, Europe and now, America.

ScoMo may as well have tossed himself from the citadel wall – attacked the advance riders and told the strong to bugger off to the mountains. They will, Scott Morrison, they’ll leave you and the rest of the political class to import votes from foreign shores and sit back as those voters gain strength and like second generation cuckoos, usurp government for themselves.

When caliphate leaders hold the balance of power in Australia, our laws are fodder.

This is how democracy dies – with an open door, blindfold and a barbecue.

-ellymelly

Posted on by ellymelly 1