Thursday, October 18, 2007

69


Since the last blog Prime Minister John Howard has announced that we will be voting on November 24th. Be prepared for 6 weeks of gibberish from all concerned

The biggest story to break this week has been the Ben Cousins saga[West Coast Eagles footballer] He got his just desserts yesterday when the Eagles hierachy finaly sacked him after his latest discretion with the law. Ifeel for the other players of the club who have must be feeling the flak from all this



During the week we lost a soldier in Afghanistan

RIP..... Trooper Daryl Pearce







In the Eastern rural area's of Australia ,some of our farmers are having the most severe and harshest drought for many years

The following poem was sent to me by my good friend Noel Trevaskis

There are some notes about the poet at the end


RAIN FROM NOWHERE


His cattle didn't get a bid; they were fairly bloody poor,

What was he going to do? He couldn't feed them anymore,

The dams were all but dry, hay was thirteen bucks a bale,

Last month's talk of rain was just a fairytale,

His credit had run out, no chance to pay what's owed,

Bad thoughts ran through his head as he drove down Gully Road

"Geez, great grandad bought the place back in 1898,

"Now I'm such a useless bastard, I'll have to shut the gate.

"Can't support my wife and kids, not like dad and those before,

"Christ, Grandma kept it going while Pop fought in the war."

With depression now his master, he abandoned what was right,

There's no place in life for failures, he'd end it all tonight.

There were still some things to do, he'd have to shoot the cattle first,

Of all the jobs he'd ever done, that would be the worst.

He'd have a shower, watch the news, then they'd all sit down for tea

Read his kids a bedtime story, watch some more TV,

Kiss his wife good night, say he was off to shoot some roos

Then in a paddock far away he'd blow away the blues.

But he drove in the gate and stopped - as he always had

To check the roadside mailbox - and found a letter from his Dad.

Now his dad was not a writer, Mum did all the cards and mail

But he knew the style from the notebooks that he used at cattle sales,

He sensed the nature of its contents, felt moisture in his eyes,

Just the fact his dad had written was enough to make him cry.

"Son, I know it's bloody tough, it's a cruel and twisted game,

"This life upon the land when you're screaming out for rain,

"There's no candle in the darkness, not a single speck of light

"But don't let the demon get you, you have to do what's right,

"I don't know what's in your head but push the bad thoughts well away

"See, you'll always have your family at the back end of the day

"You have to talk to someone, and yes I know I rarely did

"But you have to think about Fiona and think about the kids.

"I'm worried about you son, you haven't rung for quite a while,

"I know the road you're on 'cause I've walked every bloody mile.

"The date? December 7 back in 1983,

"Behind the shed I had the shotgun rested in the brigalow tree.

"See, I'd borrowed way too much to buy the Johnson place

"Then it didn't rain for years and we got bombed by interest rates,

"The bank was at the door, I didn't think I had a choice

"I began to squeeze the trigger - that's when I heard your voice.

"You said 'Where are you Daddy? It's time to play our game'

"' I've got Squatter all set up, you might get General Rain.'

"It really was that close, you're the one that stopped me son,

"And you're the one that taught me there's no answer in a gun.

"Just remember people love you, good friends won't let you down.

"Look, you might have to swallow pride and get a job in town,

"Just 'til things come good, son, you've always got a choice

"And when you get this letter ring me, 'cause I'd love to hear yourvoice."

Well he cried and laughed and shook his head then put the truck in gear,

Shut his eyes and hugged his dad in a vision that was clear,

Dropped the cattle at the yards, put the truck away

Filled the troughs the best he could and fed his last ten bales of hay.

Then he strode towards the homestead, shoulders back and head held high,

He still knew the road was tough but there was purpose in his eye.

He called for his wife and children, who'd lived through all his pain,

Hugs said more than words - he'd come back to them again,

They talked of silver linings, how good times always follow bad,

Then he walked towards the phone, picked it up and rang his Dad.

And while the kids set up the Squatter, he hugged his wife again,

Then they heard the roll of thunder and they smelt the smell of rain.





Murray Hartin February 21, 2007

Muzza (Murray Hartin) has been asked to pen something for the Salvation Army

that can bring awareness to the general public about Rural suicide.

He came up with this poem which I think is exceptional,














On a lighter note
Pretty neat prank








Why Men can't fly













Back to our upcoming elections

4days into a 6 week campaign and already Ihad a gutful of the crap

One becomes tuned out and this Ihave done already

Apathy has set in.

switch channels [thank god for remotes]and flick thru the pages and pages of dribble in the newspapers

Now Iam not picking on John Howard ,he is just a nice, easy target

If Labour win the election then we will pick on them

Politicans are fair game











For the next six weeks every polly , TV presenter and journalist should be issued
with one of these


And thats the last you will hear about the elections on this blog until its all over....Boring


Gladys Dunn recently moved into a retirement community in a small town.0
One beautiful Sunday morning she walked down the street
to a church not far from her apartment.
Gladys was in awe of the big beautiful church building as she stepped
inside to attend the worship service.

Gladys however, wasn't too impressed with the sermon.

She thought itwas kind of boring and,

as she looked around the church,

she noticed that many of the members were nodding off.

When the preacher finished his sermon he encouraged the

congregation to greet those sitting close by.

Gladys turned toward the man sitting on her left.

He, too, had fallen asleep and was yawning

and stretching trying to wake up.

He smiledat her, and Gladys returned the smile.

She politely offered her hand and said,

"I'm Gladys Dunn."

"You and me both!" the man replied.

[Stolen from Big Shot Bob in Texas]


Every one loves a Pepsi



Old and Tired



Tired Man




My Perfect Woman
...Spotted at this years Ocktoberfest in Germany
She can put her Beers on my table anytime



Cartoons for those who need help










[pinched from Miss Cellania]




Cool Cloud Photo



Mission Impossible














Stupidity

2 comments:

Peter said...

Hi Phil, boy talk about coincidences, I finished posting "Rain From Nowhere" on my poetry blog about 5 minutes before I read the same thing here.
I've seen/heard Muzza at the Gympie Muster a few times, he's a funny guy usually but this is one of his best.

Phils Phun said...

G'day Peter
Good to hear from you
Certainly is a provoking poem
Have always wanted to attend the Gympie muster
Maybe one day soon
These coincidences will have to stop
Thats 2 now
Cheers
Phil