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But shitting in a paddock rocks!

One could hardly miss the Canberra protest this past week. It was all over social media like fleas on a dog.


I watched and read in fascination as people divided themselves into “Go, champions!” and “Piss off, idiots!” camps, hissing and spitting invective at each other.


I considered how I felt about it all. I’m very much anti-establishment in that regard. But I am very much anti-stupid, as well. No, it’s not a paradox.


I examined the information at hand, and then just shrugged and sighed. This Canberra thing, like every protest Australians have staged in the last 20 years was nothing but a pointless display of just how powerless – and indeed pusillanimous (that means cowardly) – we have become.


Let me explain…


Nothing was achieved in Canberra apart from people shitting in public, a big outbreak of pink-eye, strong merchant marine red ensign sales, some very creative mathematics, and a good deal of gronkingly stupid fools outing themselves in public.


Here’s the thing. Peaceful protest has never achieved anything anywhere ever. Sure, you can sit on the ground with a thousand like-minded peacefully-intentioned people, but don’t then get up and run when the tanks start to churn you into paste, OK? Stay there. Have the strength of your convictions. Die for your cause.


If you want change, then vote peacefully for change.


If, however, you wish to create radical change, there is only one way. There is no other way. Blood has to be spilled. Things have to burn. Police need to weep and mourn, and the air needs to be made of tear gas and screaming. If the army isn’t being called in to stop the protestors, then you’re not protesting. And it has to go on and on and on, until you get what you want. There’s no going home because you’re tired and the kids need to go to school.


If that’s not happening, then you’re just walking. With your children. In the sun. You’re not “fighting” for anything – and certainly not for anyone else. You’re just going for a stroll with a bunch of other people, some of whom are legitimately crazy and need to be chemically subdued. And you can do that in a shopping mall.


But I’m sure most of the people who were in Canberra had the very best of intentions, with which the road to Hell has always been paved. And Hell, in this case, is a  beige cardigan waved from a broomstick by a bloke standing in the back of a HiLux.


I’m sure many of the attendees also imagine they have actually achieved something – like maybe letting the politicians know they are displeased with…well, a range of things. Everything from vaccine mandates, to the government being a corporation, to not vaccinating children, to some deeply weird shit about nanobots being introduced into their brains because the lizard people want new kids to eat.


I’ve never understood either what the End Game is for these freedoming gronks, or what they imagine the End Game is for the government.


The government has no interest at all in destroying its tax-slave base. It needs the money to give to its mates, remember?


So it needs you to work at your shitty jobs and render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s. The only End Game government has is to get itself re-elected, keep the cops onside so the walls of power cannot be easily breached, and ensure the population is mildly concerned about vague existential threats and money, so it will keep looking to the government for guidance and leadership.


That’s it. It seeks and keeps power for power’s sake.


The End Game for the gronks? It’s a little different.


The brothers and sisters are out there either demanding an abstract freedom, or demanding a freedom they imagine they’ve lost and which they insist be returned, right? That seems to be the main point most of them agree on.


They also demand their rights. The demand is not very loud, coherent, or even very well stated, given none of them can name what rights it is they want.


Here’s a little reality check for them all.


You have no rights. None of us do. We never had any to begin with, so we haven’t lost any. None of the rights you think you have, are enshrined in law. There is no federal Bill of Rights here as there is in the United States.


As for your freedom…well, you’re no freer today than you were before the Plague came along. You’ve lost none of that freedom, because it never existed in the first place.


You’ve been told that this and this needs to be done – and 98 per cent of you have complied. It’s what always happens. It’s how we’re programmed. We are certainly not programmed to buck the system, build barricades, hoist the black flag, and commence slitting throats. That is not in the Australian DNA.


Shocking, huh?


Where was your shock and protest when the police declared motorcycle clubs criminal organisations and began brutalising and persecuting the members of those clubs – most of whom had no criminal convictions or leanings?


Where was the screaming when the police started beating people and illegally strip-searching young girls?


How disgustingly quiet are you about all the Aboriginal deaths in custody? The native people protest about this all the time, but the same mouth-breathing fucks who eagerly dragged themselves to Canberra so they could shit in the showground and listen to speeches from bona fide lunatics in the shade of Trump 2020 flags, don’t make an appearance when hundreds of aggrieved and traumatised aborigines march down the street demanding justice and accountability for their dead.


Where are all you pieces of mouth-breathing shit when the government enacts laws which genuinely eke away our civil liberties, piss our money against the wall in pork-barrelling orgies, destroy our drinking water, murder our animals, and wreck our manufacturing industries while demanding we go to war with our biggest trading partner?

Where the ever-loving fuck are you disgusting shitcunts then?


I know where you are. And I know what you are.


You’re at home being over-fed, glassy-eyed, complacent fucks.


At best you’re complacent and dumb because most of the stuff I’ve mentioned doesn’t affect you directly or immediately.


At worst, you’re a selfish, stupid, racist cocksucker.


But at the end of the day, no matter what you are, you’re just like the rest of us in that you’re utterly powerless to change anything.


You demand freedom, but from what? Are you enslaved? Do you wish to kill people with impunity? Drive drunk? Shoot gak into your neck veins? It’s the vaccine thing, isn’t it? You want the freedom to not have the vaccine and you don’t want your kids to have it?


You have that freedom now, chuckles. You can make that choice. Don’t have the vaccine. Don’t give it to your kids.


Of course, there is a price for making that choice, because, as you’re so fond of wanking “Freedom isn’t free!”


Why can you freedom walkers not see that? Why can you freedom paddock-shitters not grasp that?


I might as well ask you why you think 10,000 people transform into 500,000 or a million people just because you’d like that number to be real.


You cannot grasp any of this, just like you can’t count. And it appalls you to imagine you’re utterly powerless to do anything about anything. That’s why you went to Canberra. It suddenly felt like you were doing something, didn’t it? Like you could make a difference, yes?


Even squatting in a field and pouring a stinking turd out of your sweaty arse before rushing back to applaud wildly at some uniformed cunt entreating you to “Hold firm!” was doing something, right?


I see many of you honk on about “Come the revolution!” and worship at the altar of Ned Kelly and the cathedral of the Eureka Stockade because in your dim little brain you see yourself as the proud inheritor of all that jingoistic shit.


Well, the revolution is here, bitches. And where are you? Where are you when the police grab and beat the snot out of one of your flag-wearing buddies at these protests? Is that you booing and yelling behind the barricade? Why aren’t you sallying forth to rescue your fellow freedom fighter?


The revolution has come, has it not? Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for? There’s the police line of horses and a phalanx of armoured cops. Why are you running away? Why are star pickets not being stabbed into the chests of those horses and why are the police not being slain with rocks? Why are buildings not burning? Why are politicians not swinging from gibbets?


Here’s the thing, freedom fighters. A revolution is only possible when the majority of the people decide that what comes after the revolution – whatever that might be – is preferable to the status quo.


Maybe if more of the pink-eyed freedom eagles read more books instead of devouring social media idiocy spawned in foreign troll farms, they would understand what causes revolutions, how they are fought, and how they are won.


As it stands here, in this wide, brown, and every well-behaved land, book-larnin’ is not much of a thing. We got no call for that kinda stuff. History is just shit that happened ages ago. Politics? Fuck that. All them pricks are the same. What’s the point of even voting? But come the revolution, you yell, all that’s gonna change!


Go and get fucked, freedom gronks.

There will be no revolution. You’re not good enough, smart enough, strong enough, or mad enough to start one, let alone conduct it to its end.

Most of you don’t even vote, few of you can explain how government works, and yet you get up on your hind trotters and demand things?

You deserve exactly what you’re getting. Shut the fuck up and obey. It’s what you were made to do.

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Boris Mihailovic

Boris is a writer who has contributed to many magazines and websites over the years, edited a couple of those things as well, and written a few books. But his most important contribution is pissing people off. He feels this is his calling in life and something he takes seriously. He also enjoys whiskey, whisky and the way girls dance on tables. And riding motorcycles. He's pretty keen on that, too.

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