ADDENDUM: I posted this back in February, and it is still valid, I think. Since then, the foxes have been salivating at their seemingly endless menu of victims, and have eaten quite a few more helpless souls. And the Number 1 fox, doing his utmost to divert attention from his and his government’s cruelty and ineptitude, has (in no particular order):
- declared war on Russia
- found and then lost a missing plane
- failed to retrieve ‘bodies, and parts of bodies’ (and save them from the ‘ravages of heat, and of animals’) that were disgorged from another plane in Ukraine
- and also declared war on a fake terrorist organisation, while ignoring the dying in neighbouring Palestine and Syria…
So I thought I would dredge it up and re-post it. I still think that a pitchfork-brandishing mob at the Governor-General’s lodgings is a required thing…
And then there were foxes in the henhouse.
There is palpable outrage, in certain circles, at the turn of events since the last Federal election. And then there’s the rest – the sheeple, some of whom are still glibly celebrating the removal of a government that they had allowed themselves to believe was somehow illegitimate or unworthy. To those latter people – dead of brain, absent of compassion, ignorant of history, hateful of progress, centred of self, and whet of appetite for political blood – I have nought but contempt. You have enabled the frenzy.
True to form, the Liberal Party (aided by their provincial half-wit National cousins) have now well-and-truly commenced the feeding, after a brief post-circle-jerk hibernation, during which I think perhaps Tony Abbott attempted to murder Michael Schumacher while skiing off-piste in France.
A brief glance at the past few months reveals a trail of mangled poultry at the door to the barn. The policy rhetoric, the legislative amendments, the approvals granted, the threats to entire industries, and the generous declarations of a mandate, are all clear signals that the political and corporate intent is to eviscerate the entire country and feed the hearts to the chosen ones.
There is that outrage that I mentioned, bubbling along, and occasionally spilling over, in those circles where the overwhelming sense is still a nauseous blend of shock, indignation, horror, and perplexed surprise. It is there that you can find the lists detailing all the promises broken, the amoral funding severances, and the habitats slated for molestation. But it is not enough. The sheeple are still happy – for the fox is only a fox, he is not a wolf, and they continue to live in comfort. Only when some of the sheeple begin to realise that they too are merely poultry, will there be a significant groundswell against the current paradigm. I don’t pretend to assume that that will actually occur.
In other outlets I have echoed the hushed pleas to revolt, I have suggested that there must be ways to stop some of the damage before it is too late by invoking the legal guns of the toothless tiger that is the UN, and I have pondered the concept that planned demonstrations across the nation next month be diverted and centralised to become a citizen’s march to the Governor-General’s office to implement a people’s dismissal.
I believe the situation is becoming very dire indeed. Maybe the feeding frenzy will descend into chaos, and there will be enough disquiet to inspire some forceful protestation. A massive vote of no confidence is required, and a dismissal of some sort will clearly be necessary.
I don’t pretend to know how to eject the fox. But surely, at the current rate of consumption, there will come a push-back. I can dream. And hope that my dream is shared by more and more each night.
What will it take to wake the farmer, whoever that might metaphorically be, and alert him to the presence of foxes in the henhouse? He seems unaware that the cliched fabric of the society we live in is being torn apart while he sleeps.