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Ref:…electorate & & RRAT Estimates CASA 23/03/21 Hansard

Of disease, –  and winning tickets.

In the year of our Lord 1796 Edward Jenner began the eradication of the Smallpox virus. When you consider the ‘science’ available then, it was a great gamble. Now of course, despite Jenner’s ‘primitive’ research, the notion has travelled and been accepted by modern ‘science’ into the great industrial grade of vaccination for all manner of ‘known’ killers. Things like Polio;

WIKI – “The two vaccines have eliminated polio from most of the world,[3][4] and reduced the number of cases reported each year from an estimated 350,000 in 1988 to 33 in 2018.[5][6]”

There is a substantial  265 year history, supported by solid evidence that Jenner’s ‘notion’ was a bloody good one. So, why is there such a furore over the ‘Covid’ vaccination? Really – why; how does it make sense? From the age of seven I held my own passport – in the back there was a card which showed what I had been vaccinated against, and when. Mandatory for entry into some lands – no jab – no entry. As life progressed into actually flying aircraft into many places, I noted that ‘the card’ was more often scrutinised than the passport. Some of those jabs hurt like hell; made you feel peculiar for a while; but, it sure as apples beats the crap out of Typhoid, Diphtheria, TB or Polio etc. Hence the (temporary and very last) ramble into ‘matters medical’. With your indulgence, I shall now tell a short, but truthful story.

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“How many valiant men, how many fair ladies, breakfast with their kinfolk and the same night supped with their ancestors in the next world! The condition of the people was pitiable to behold. They sickened by the thousands daily, and died unattended and without help. Many died in the open street, others dying in their houses, made it known by the stench of their rotting bodies. Consecrated churchyards did not suffice for the burial of the vast multitude of bodies, which were heaped by the hundreds in vast trenches, like goods in a ships hold and covered with a little earth.”-Giovanni Boccaccio

Thirty odd years ago, my dog made friends with another – remarkable really – both were large animals and Alpha males – could have gone either way – but it became a fast friendship. That ‘friendship’ eventuated between the two owners of said dogs; equally strong and lasting, still current up until this evening. He is a ‘heavy duty’ man of the medical profession; in charge of a large inner city ICU. Months ago now we stopped to chat – “had your shot yet” he asked. “Nope” say’s I, “no rush – but I’ll get to it”. “No- no” say’s my good friend – “do it now – believe me, you do not want what they’ve got”. Of course I looked askance at this – eyebrows raised. “45 days on a ventilator and little hope of salvation is why” say’s he. So, off I trotted. What is one more ‘jab’ compared to that? Did it for years, no question asked about the shot against the other horror diseases – so why this is this particular one getting so much resistance; don’t make sense to me. There Mate, duty done as requested and required; as best able. Cheers.

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Now; to much more serious matters; that of winning tickets. Under duress, (bitching, moaning etc) I opened a ledger after Crawford made his debut as ‘acting DAS’ at the last estimates; despite the newly anointed Spence (sat at the table in full view) being the expected ‘star’ of the pantomime. Many were simply ‘stunned’ when the new DAS simply allowed Crawford to do all the talking (FWTWW). Well boy’s and girls; that created a major ‘discussion’ within the IOS and BRB; theories abounded; ideas hammered to death; almost endless discussion. Hell; I even had to close down one of the e-mail ‘loops’ due to shear volume of traffic. Every man-jack had an opinion. So; put your Choc-Frogs where your mouth is became my way of dealing with the clamour. We now have a clear ‘winning’ theory (we do). I set the tote at 4/1 for the entry; always a good each-way bet; (second and third pays a bit back). And so; after much consideration and debate; the ‘By-Pass’ entry wins by a thumping majority. Time, patience and research (not to mention a small leak) proved the pudding. 

“When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”― Mark Twain

The question stands alone M’Lud. “Was Crawford set-up?” The Ayes have it. Given enough rope the fundamentally ‘unpleasant’ character was bound to surface; the insufferable arrogance, the bullying, the almost unbelievable stupidity combined with an irrepressible ego would give him enough rope to put his head in the noose – all the Spence dainty hand had to do was, make the call and – pull the lever – once this was  ‘evidence demonstrable’ (read riot). In a few short months Crawford went from free flight – to – “doon the by-pass”. I paid the Choc Frogs out; but..(side bar) – someone a lot smarter than Spence hatched that wee scheme and called it dead right. I’ve saved a Choc Fog for that fellahin. Well played Sir; well played indeed. If I didn’t know better – I’d say this was the steady hand of MM at the helm – but then, he bat’s for the black hats – don’t he??

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“Declare your jihad on thirteen enemies you cannot see -egoism, arrogance, conceit, selfishness, greed, lust, intolerance, anger, lying, cheating, gossiping and slandering. If you can master and destroy them, then you will be ready to fight the enemy you can see.”― Al-Ghazzali

Aye well; I’ve done my duty to my friend; believe a fair result was reached of Bi-Pass Crawford and stumped up the Choc-frogs to the wiser heads who can (mysteriously) read the smoke signals. Enough – there is a mouthful of Ale left in my glass; the cat sits at the door waiting, as only a cat can; my boot has been dropped under the desk. I can take a hint – time to be out into a fresh breeze and a lovely Spring evening. The wild wood waits to welcome us.

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“Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.”― Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows