Bondi Cigar

Press(ed) Briefs

Former judge Marcus Einfeld said he was in NSW township Forster the day his car was photographed speeding on Sydney’s North Shore in January 2006, and that he had lent the car to his friend, Professor Teresa Brennan … err, who had died three years earlier. Judges in particular should realise dead people are poor alibis. I recall 40 years ago – after a day reporting in a regional court presided over by your typical brittle lesser magistrate – following His Honour across town to be gob-smacked as he blithely cruised through a stop sign at flank speed. That, with his endless berating of errant motorists still ringing in my ears. 12/2007

“Kev’s me mate” said Telstra First Amigo Sol Trujillo to a Merry Lynching conference in the Trimenjus Apple. Praising the Australian Labor Party leader on broadband he delivered the endorsement a Kevvy-based Oz Gummint was good for business. Keep your enemies close. Sep/2007

Many creatures of our establishment press indulge inverse Gonzo journalism, their ignorance of Iraq ground zero (love to hate that term) highlighted by bizarre commentary, questioning the meaning and intent of reports from those few who dared – as opposed to the many who deigned .. 11/2006

Is the DOD to blame for our totally vacuous awareness of what our boys are doing over there? Quite a bit, yeah, but the fault is ultimately with our tiny forum of over-opinionated, under-informed overpaid word-processors too busy 6pm-grandstanding to know the “conditions on the ground” in Iraq. 8/2006

Since Johnny H. knee-jerked us into another war, in the fine tradition of conservative PMs, the louder members of our fine press rapidly beat a path in the opposite direction, much like the fabled Brisbane Line in WW2. Most took a step back leaving a half-dozen battlers to be shipped off to that hot dusty land. 6/2006

Aussie Press: “Iraq? Where?” So, Public Affairs (DOD, Australia) clam up tighter than a pollie’s grip on pay day when it’s about our troops in Vietn.. err, Iraq. Hey, they might be stingy with information – hence truth – but the blame settles elsewhere. 12/2005

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At My Desk

Down Under

Travel in Asia, Pacific, Europe and the Americas reveals a affectionate admiration for the peoples and lifestyle of this great sunburnt country, this wide brown land.

Asians in particular regard us warmly, especially recalcitrant Muslim States to our north who accept our kindness and generosity with both awe and gratitude.

They view preemption nobly offered by our diminutively-revered former leader as that unique Australian blend of regional cooperation and derring-do.

Our Pacific neighbors, of whom we are proud paladins, play safely unmolested in our sunny watery back yard. The fuzzy wuzzy angels to our close north fondly consider us a rascally gang who altruistically saved their southern friends from another 40,000 years of stagnation.

To all strangers and foreign souls I extend the warm hand of welcome. And, too-long forgotten, particularly to those long-patient Territorians, and especially to our inland dwellers, those Arafura Pedestrians of Antiquity, our Native Australians.

Both our white outlanders and our indigenous tinted folk share with foreigners the misfortune of never having cherished the 'real Australia' - our sensuously skyward steely-glassed coastal cities fed by cascading combustion-powered rivers of commerce.

Girt by sea, this wide brown land black with coal, our wealth radiates around the globe to nations whose paucity of mere culture, education, and civilisation reflect back their envy .. which goes mostly over our heads, being deep within those loving excavations that pay for magical foreign-produced cargo cult goodies.

Obscenely sports obsessed being our badge of pride, a voratious public mind feasts on fast food of frenetic thronging presses of Press whose livelihoods depend upon screeching minutae of overpaid neanderthal derros with too much time on their talentless hands, unearned of such fabricated fame.

And, not least, this nation's grand sweep of creative intellectual fertility, that incubator of cultural and social promise - ethnic tribes of Sydney's great south-west, and the triple-mortgage trash of her far flung suburbs.