The colloquial Aussie-ism directed at men who lack ticker, who are seen as weak, in leadership or intestinal fortitude, is one that I have never liked is that ‘he does not have the balls’. Yet this expression wraps that vision in a nutshell.
As one like millions of Australians and those who now call this great country home, I have watched as an epidemic, greater than any mutation of a ‘flu virus, be it natural or generated in a Chinese laboratory , remain impotent and frustrated. That epidemic is not the attack on the physical senses, but the neurological ...it is F E A R!
Yes, anger in tens of thousands, expressed in television interviews, in radio talk back and a plethora of comments on social media, ripples in the airwaves far beyond the seats of political power in our States and our Island Nation. They ricochet in the ether until they fade, they bypass the channels of hearing that God gave men and women who abide in their cosy parliamentary palaces where incomes like their recipients are untouchable.
In two seats of power namely Victoria and Queensland, there is no such attention paid to what democracy and the Constitution, really mean. The rule books of men of a different era, have been thrown out the window on the pretext of “We are here to keep you safe”, we are here to preserve our hold on power and your health has been writ large where the logic of Hotel Quarantine, was shunned in one State, where wise decisions in hindsight were made at a Federal level and has worked and averted the horrendous death toll that saw the people that helped build this nation, handed a death sentence for services rendered. The aged took a capital hit.
The outcry, the fiddling of fingers, whilst a man whose ego was paramount to the extent where he was untouchable, surrender to a Commission of Inquiry, drawn up by his control, with narrow terms of reference and guaranteed to produce the outcome desired. The litany of lies, the finger pointing, the brutal throwing colleagues and others under a bus, reinforced the accepted notion “We do what it takes”. Well there is an old cliché ‘Oh what a wicked web we weave, when first we practice to deceive’. I have mentioned the men and their physical attributes as to what it takes. One man who often looms large on the landscape is Clive Palmer . Like Trump he is not short of a bob, so he wants the High Court to look at the closed borders imposed by dictatorship. He wanted Clause 92, that covers free trade examined and called on the top honcho to help deliver this to the High Court. Scott Morrison , pulled and pushed, did not want to associate with a man who might tarnish the image. So Palmer fights alone.
But who among the testicle brigade was up to walking into the Dandy-lions Den’ A bronze Anzac, a wealthy business man or a shock jock, with plenty to say? What about the who broad brush of the legal system, the retired or sitting judges, all one would imagine with a pair of dangling jewels .
No that is left to a lady with the grace and charm of a Presidents wife . The fact that she has an intellect that cuts through the insidious armour of the Victorian Premier was there for all to see.
My impression in watching this incredible Peta Credlin, was here was an incisive mind doing the job of a Commission that is hog-tied. Her coolness acted like a flamethrower on the face of a cornered Andrews . The six minute window between 1.16pm and 1.22pm on March 27th this year and the vacant lot that has buried treasure is there for this lady to tease out.
I have a feeling that the real danger in teasing out the truth is to land the decision maker with the unliveable charge of having the blood of all those souls who succumbed, the parents, the grandchildren not only on their hands but conscience for the rest of their lives. Little wonder why the excuse of ‘creeping assumption’ is being used as lifeline to that of being nailed to the cross of ...It was my decision.
History will be writ and I suspect that Peta Credlin who lit the fuse will never be handed the accolade for having done so.
