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Ref: Doc Gates:…6#pid10686 & Godley Pg 13-14 & footnote 15 ; Aleck Pg 29 & footnote 41…43/0000%22 +…56%2f27920 &…6#pid11156 &…A3oECAoQBQ

Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war,

That, just about sums up the BRB attitude and approach to the endless, mind numbing, circular rubbish being spouted by ‘the powers that be’. For example:–

1.42 Dr Jonathan Aleck, Executive Manager of Legal and Regulatory Affairs at CASA, laid out the objective of CASA’s approach to this issue:-

‘”..Our objective here is not to specifically address what caused those two accidents; it’s to address what kinds of things can cause incidents and accidents of this kind. We’re being prospective. If we were to wait for sufficiently robust data to support an evidence based decision for every individual decision we took in this space, we would have to wait for a dozen or more accidents to occur…”

And then, from the real (closet based) ATSB head honcho and puppet master this:-

“The ATSB stresses that raising awareness of safety issues is not dependent on the publication of an investigation’s final report,

Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy

Now, there is but a small difference between fury and general, run of the mill anger. It is the thing which prevents anger escalating into something more outré. But, I digress. Godley’s veiled threats and ‘telephone calls’ which seem to go hand in hand with any new investigation and the impending release of a carefully manicured report, which, along with the fatuous statement above have seriously rubbed some folk the wrong way. The last BRB being a fine example. The resolution passed (unanimously) was to find a way to drag every past employee of CASA and ATSB (Willy Nilly) in front of the next Senate Committee sitting. The purpose of course being to expose – from the inside out – why both operations are a failure.

Blood and destruction shall be so in use,
And dreadful objects so familiar,
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quartered with the hands of war

I’m afraid, I stopped it – cold. ‘Twas an innocent enough question posed after the ‘sound and fury’ had ebbed.

“How?” said I.

“All pity choked with custom of fell deeds,
And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge,”

Silence, followed by a few suggestions (including rope and wild horses).

“But, there are confidentiality agreements; non disclosure clauses, money and future prospects on the line, not to mention some fairly serious ‘legal’ arguments to resolve. All heavy duty. Even if the ex employees were named and called to give evidence – there would still need to be ‘specific’ questions only. Take it a step further and the ‘whistle-blower’ stuff becomes a factor and etc. Great idea boys and girls – BUT – practically it cannot be done. Unless those folks, these soon to be branded ‘disgruntled employee’s’ elect out of conscience to submit a ‘confidential’ report and are prepared, in camera, with parliamentary protection to provide the questions which must be asked and the answers. Even then, they take a great risk.

“That this foul deed shall smell above the earth”

A second option was discussed, ex managers of operations, Chief pilots, Hotac and the like: all with a story to tell. Would they dare speak up?

“With carrion men, groaning for burial.” – William Shakespeare: Julius Caesar

Same old problem surfaces – every time. Unless those responsible for ‘operational management’ are prepared to voluntarily present their problems – how can a committee be properly informed. IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN. Why? Easiology – fear. Almost every single, solitary person in the aviation industry, with a few notable exceptions, are too bloody scared to speak out. Understandable – you bet. Responsible – in the true sense – not really. So long as their little boat ain’t rocked – etc… But, it beats me – in the Pub they’ll rattle on about the stupidity and waste CASA inflict – then go to work and smile through the crap and; worse, ensure the troops comply. Gutless I call it – but then ………Time to change the subject methinks.

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Ref: ScoMo/Mick Mack Govt pork barrels & rorts – Part IV

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But to what? Fatal accidents, aerodrome inhabitants being squeezed out, dodgy flying schools, buildings on runway safety areas. Training exercises which kill experienced blokes trying to comply, the endless shit fight the ‘new’ rules promote, the difficulties of obtaining and maintaining expensive qualifications which do sod all in the way of improvement. Aye, there is a very long list of things which could be and should have been sorted decades ago. But Hell, with the minister we’ve got and the top deck of CASA, it’s ‘bored’ and the ATSB in obsequious compliance, run by the Gods and wardrobe; ASA on a profit KPI driven mission – the big question for the day is – Is it the game worth the candle.



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Enough – I’ve been offered AUD $80 per hour (base rate) to do basic building carpentry, with extra’s, time and half after six hours, home by 1600 every afternoon – Saturday morning extra at double time. Not interested – however it speaks volumes about how a profitable industry values ‘skill’ and is prepared to pay for it. When I add up ‘my expenses’ to hold my licenses, medical, subscriptions and the damned ASIC; I wonder if a simpler life, where I can’t be prosecuted for a clerical error would not be worth considering. Until I hear the siren call of a turbine winding up. A fool I am, but when you’re in love and a night sky beckons – well.

That’s this weeks ramble – I did manage, without tragedy, to make the outer frames and raised panels for the clock’s exterior; they look great (book matched) and polished. Now the doors and mouldings demand attention. The wooden moulding planes from the 1800’s demand a new skill set – sharpening the blades is a fascinating art form (managed with some coaching) making the moulding an exercise is pure logic, and ‘ripping’ them from the base stock demands some attention. Then, there’s the doors to make; flat, square, no twist and neat – they are, I’m informed, the first thing noticed. There are four bright, smiling amber eye’s peering over the top of my desk; four furry ears waiting for the final keystrokes, which they know will end this vainglorious Sunday twiddle. I shall oblige them. (A pause, ears twitch) then: Away dogs!