[Kharon]

Ref: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Divine_Comedy & https://twitter.com/GlennSterle/status/1...4007088128 & https://twitter.com/effie_ellen/status/1...3582326784 & Alan Jones verdict - SHAME IT IS FOR MICK MACK!

Comedia? No, not divine; not even funny.

Wiki - "Dante was the first writer to depict human beings as the products of a specific time, place and circumstance as opposed to mythic archetypes or a collection of vices and virtues; this along with the fully imagined world of the Divine Comedy, different from our own but fully visualised, suggests that the Divine Comedy could be said to have inaugurated modern fiction”. 

Divine? – possibly – depends on your view of how, what and why 'we' are here. However, comedy or not, divine or not – there's not a hell of a lot to chuckle about. Well, not unless you find the ministers antics amusing that is. Glenn Sterle elequently sums up the last little foray into yet another 'foot in mouth' episode; while his peers look on – watching a crown minister confirm, what the world and it's wife knows – the man's a complete clown; and, not a particularly talented one.

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“The man who lies asleep will never waken fame, and his desire and all his life drift past him like a dream, and the traces of his memory fade from time like smoke in air, or ripples on a stream.” ― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

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Sterle “Great! Just what struggling businesses need, more debt. This guy is a joke. 35 seconds of my life I'm never getting back!” - Amen to that.

Ref:  #worsttransportministerever

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I  believe we at 'PAIN' hit the mute button after the pitiful charade at Wagga – years ago. There has been little to disavow us of the notion that life is too short to even acknowledge that this deluded, posturing poseur plays to only one audience – himself. Alone at midnight, dressed in his new Elvis outfit; air guitar in hand – bottle of Bourbon conveniently located – singing along and believing that the crowds love him as much (if not, in his mind, more) as he practices his puerile imitation of his hero. Words fail about here; but why do the 'clever' folk in government tolerate this clown? Can they not send him off on a fact finding mission – he may just find his arse, before it catches fire. Every village idiot on the planet is up in arms – they do have a case....

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What is it then? Why do you hesitate?
Why do you relish living like a coward?
Why cannot you be bold and keen to start?” ― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy by Dante

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But enough of trivial matters; now I must take you into the dark realms of fiction. Well, I hope its fiction. Seems there is a ghost haunting the ivory Tower (CASA HQ). There are security people prepared to swear that the only oddity on Christmas Eve was a strange, haunting melody emanating from the internal speaker system; after that, they entered a dream like state and have no memory of time until they signed off early Christmas morn. CCTV showed nothing unusual; a couple of regulars popping in to reclaim stuff left behind after 'the party' – but, subsequent to that Nada. The building was empty. Makes sense; who, in the seven hell's would be hanging about the office, writing submissions to a Senate inquiry on Christmas Eve?

St Commodious had definitely signed off; said so to a Senate committee; so rule him out. But his name does appear at the end of the missive provided to the Senate Inquiry – not signed you understand – it just appeared, like magic or something. A similar thing happened during the short reign of Skidmore the First. A mysterious document (not signed by him) materialised. Aye; the ghost of castle CASA has been a busy little bugger.

Ref: Footnote: Dots & Dashes in the DAS office?

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Perhaps there's a magic spell which prevents 'signatures' being seen – a cost cutting measure to save on redaction costs. Someone, somewhere is being a very naughty boy; on the razor's edge of the law. Not that it matters very much; the liberties taken with 'the rule of law' within the CASA edifice are the stuff of legend and serve to terrify both young and old alike. The 'law' it seems is only for the obedience those who must obey; not them as write it. Of course, the Grand Vizier of confusion and complication writes the bloody 'philosophical' intent of the law (safe conviction under strict liability) – and seems immune from any form of prosecution. – I wonder if, perhaps, there is a remnant of Eastern Bloc mentality still holding sway in the philosophical minds that rule aviation? Hi Peter, how ya doin', still have your Ace in the Hole?

Anyone with an IQ better than their boot size and a little more political savvy than an Elvis wig could see where the industries problems lay. It has been writ, in clear, for decades now. Time and time again the plea for change has been howled from the roof tops – for decades. A dozen Senate committees have done their very best. And what do we get? Ah! Duck it – you know the rest.



Tuesday; dogs, cat, an itinerant donkey and I were sat outside, enjoying the morning. One of those Porsche 4 wheel rockets pulls up in a cloud of dust. We all sat still as a very expensive lady emerged; I-Phone glued to one ear. Still rattling on she offered me a piece of paper – a drawing. We waited, still as mice - “hold on a second' say's the lady into the phone - :”can you make those?” - I nodded once. “Good” say's she “I'll be back Friday to collect them”. That was it – cloud of dust disappeared out of the gate. There followed a moments silence; big dog's look of 'WTD was that' said all that needed to be said. Sure enough, by Friday the dust cloud appeared and pulled up in front of the stable; same crew watching the arrival. The 'display' cases, made to spec sat on a nearby table; along with a carefully prepared invoice, stating both timber and labour cost – all kosher. “Great” say's she - “just put 'em in the back wudja”. Being an obliging sort – I did just that and donated the workshop blankets covering them to the gods. “Here” she say's handing me a thick envelope; she sketched a 'thank you' blew me a kiss and buggered off at about the same speed as she arrived. I cannot describe the looks that passed between myself and my companions; how I wish I could; it was priceless. My good timber however ain't; nor is my work. Now, after opening that envelope, I can take next week and the next after that off, if it pleased me to do so. Strange and mysterious are the ways of the modern world. No matter, 'tis a fair night and a long twilight – flight plan – orchard gate – river – swim – Ale; in that order. Aye -  Colour me King - for a day.

Selah .-.

{P7- OFCOL Joyce - of course it's a bloody metaphor}......