Human Rights Day Awards, Melbourne 2008

PRESS THE PLAY BUTTON
and watch it live on scribblnoir.

35:30 min / about 80 meg

or
Watch On Google Video HERE

Brown Mountain

Final Screening.

See it B4 its gone

Brown mountain is one of the last standing patches of old growth forest left on earth, today
Logging commences Tues 27th Jan 2009.

SS - keeping our streets safe.

We can all feel a little safer on the streets; now that the
Victorian Gestapo have their SS Hummers looking out for undesirables.

Chris Hurley


Feel safe now?

Bombs Away

Arti-fiscal intelegence'ya

No one else to blame

SORRY FOR BORING YOU

Due to my short attention span, and intolerance for weasels; I have two questions?
1) Did he apologise for the genocide, because as I understand - removing members of the group is genocide under the UN convention on the prevention of Genocide?
2) What did the stolen Generation get in real terms (Apart from one week off their dole obligations to find their families; with no support from the Gov, I might add.)
3) Whats with the red Tie?

2=3

Howdy Neighbour

Hey ZIONIST!,
next time use the door bell,

New Kids on the Block

Short Story // Rows of columns // Stain your own carpet

A Leap into the sun

‘The head is the heaviest part of the body’ my grandfather once said. ‘The brain matter is so dense it tries to hit the ground first during a fall.’ My grandfather was a storyteller; if this fact had any scientific validity it was going to need proof. When kids at school got pushed or tripped their heads disproportionately gravitated to the ground, except the fat kid, his bum would be first to impact. The notion of brain density had me perplexed, further proof was required.

Louis and I often played on the swings footing our high-rise commission flats. I still remember the pain in my hands as they gripped tightly at the chains, every time my bum inched off the wooden seat during the backward swing. I wasn’t the bravest kid but I wasn’t going to wince in front of my best friend. Louis was the toughest kid of all four High Rises in the block. His father was shot before his eyes by secret police during the early days of the Chilean Military Junta, he and his mother escaped to Australia and still occupy a flat on the tenth floor. By no means a bully, my friend made it his duty as my blood brother to toughen me and, frankly, I’d sooner have flung off the swing than lost his respect. So I held back the tears and gripped the chains tighter as he pushed harder. Just as my fear had peaked and the pain became comforting, my mother peered over the 14th floor balcony, warning Louis to stop or someone was going to get hurt. We were pretty rogue kids with little respect for authority but we never crossed each-other’s mothers, that was part of the unspoken code we all followed.

My heartbeat began to normalize as the swing lost inertia; I jumped off, landed on my feet facing my friend, defiantly seeking approval, and got it. At that point we noticed small groups of people moving towards the other side of the flats. Knowing what that meant we walked arm over shoulder to see the show.

A large crowd gathered in silence at the base of the towering High Rise. The police had already arrived. A man stood on the edge of the balcony of the 18th floor, any thing above the 12th floor was taken seriously, below that was usually reserved for attention seekers and most people didn't bother. We took a position at the front of the growing crowd, silently we looked at each other excited but confused. Excited because the firemen began to unravel their net and confused as to why we were really there. We dared not say anything to break the silence of the mob. My heart raced again as I gazed upwards.

About half an hour later a breeze of murmurs broke out amongst the crowd. Who was this jumper? No one recognised him, he wasn’t local. They never were, none of the people who lived here had any reason to jump. We had nothing to lose and dreams of moving away to fulfil. Those flats were our jumping block to a better world; a point of which to take a leap into greatness in a land of opportunity. I was going to be a movie star and Louis a gangster.

An hour later the crowd began dispersing; small groups had taken the opportunity to picnic together around newspapers full of fish and chips, the police got agitated and began harassing the winos and the black-fella's. The fire brigade sat around their net chatting. ‘I’m bored now' sighed Louis as he left to go home for dinner.

My Gaze remained fixed on the building that towered over me, even after the jumper was talked down and taken away by the police, after the crowd had completely dispersed.

I stood there watching the sky turn dark past the 18th floor.

For a few brief seconds between dusk and dark my imagination was lost, the night had stolen the shadows from the tower of dreams. Then windows began to light up, sprinkling across the building, I wondered if it's natives would fulfil their dreams; or would return to take that place on the 18th floor.

For a moment I was starring on TV, looking at myself from the 18th floor. Waiting for the director to call action.

So this is why us kids weren’t allowed out after dark, the night was for dreaming, not for seeing a world without light.

Sirens rang out as the first star began to appear, a couple of drunks began yelling in the distance. Fear struck me when some glass smashed nearby and I remembered where and who I was.

A hand snatched my arm trying to jerk me away. 'Come on', It was Louis. I looked at him, he must have been hanging around keeping an eye on me. His piercing eyes shocked me when I wouldn't budge.
'Come on' he repeated smiling warmly as he punched me in the arm.

'Race you home to watch Prisoner'

Thirty years later; the notion of brain density still perplexes me.

The scribbler

HAARP, not Lilith's

Whose enemies have had natural disasters lately?

They Live

From little things big things grow applies to oppression as well.// Corporate Prostitute says sorry..

Get up (which is funded by a labour party advisor and supposedly run independently. Decide for yourself) has released the White Apologist version of the Land rights anthem "From little things, big things grow". This is the Australien people's attempt to alleviate itself from the guilt of "The stolen generation".

To say sorry is to give respect and:

-Allow SELF DETERMINATION to occur
-Make amends
-Repatriate
-Fully acknowledge the crime of Genocide
-Out law Genocide in Australia
-Convict all criminals who knowingly protracted the genocide.
-Make a treaty to end the violence of occupation
-Repeal the amendment to the racial discrimination act
-Institute full national uniform free hold land rights
-Convict at least one pig for over two centuries of deaths in custody
-Undo the lie of Terra Nullius
-Demand real Justice
-Etc..etc..etc.. see the last 237 years of Australian history for more reasons to apologise.

I'm sorry / to be so blunt. NOT!

In an era where corporations and governments are oppressing in leaps and bounds, the Australian population is patting itself on the back for taking a small step and making a shallow and meaningless apology.

Lets reflect on a possible alternative reason for the apology:

A mass convergence against the Northern Territory intervention (3 months in the planning), was making its way to the first sitting of the new Parliament of Australia. The new Prime Minister eager to please his new corporate bosses by assuring their newly acquired mining rights, soon realized the magnitude of the protest and its potential effects in highlighting to the world the apartheid state created by the NT Intervention. Kevin Rudd made an astute political decision to steal the thunder from the massive convergence by ceremoniously apologising to the Stolen Generations without compensation (2 weeks in the planning). In true fascist style he cunningly made thousands of protesters appear as supporters. Howard eat your heart out.

Call me paranoid if you will; then take another sleeping pill and get the fuck off my blog.

I'm sorry / Australians are such tools.

The fact is little things have been growing for many decades, and now they are big things. There is a mass movement of Indigenous justice supporters actively resisting the injustice, we shouldn't wait for the retards to feel like its time to make a change. Get up should adopt a hard line and not play a hand in prolonging the ignorance or else it’s just part of the governments agenda to pander to the ego's of the most apathetic population on earth, by plastic wrapping the struggle for freedom.
While the real struggle for self determination goes backwards over 40 years, back to the mission days.

Get Up and get of your fat arses. Buying a record can only help to achieve real change if you freesbie it at a politician.

I'm sorry / as a crime acknowledger of Australia. Who has benefited from the land theft and ongoing oppression of the indigenous inhabitants. I'M SORRY.

Here is the real version.. Notice the difference.

Respect to uncle Kev Karmody and Paul Kelly.

2020 summit, still got tunnel vision

Indigenous delegates express frustration with 2020 summit
By Adam Gartrell

CANBERRA, April 21, 2008: Several Australian 2020 delegates examining Indigenous issues have expressed frustration with the weekend's summit, with some complaining ideas were watered down.

Increased formal recognition of Aboriginal people - possibly in the form of a treaty - was a top priority for many delegates.

The need for a new representative body and a new watchdog to oversee the government's approach to Indigenous issues also proved popular.

Delegates also pushed for better partnerships between Indigenous people and business, wider use of boarding schools for Indigenous students, and the establishment of a future fund for Indigenous children.

Indigenous leader Patrick Dodson called for a change to the assimilationist ethos which continued to underpin Aboriginal affairs, urging the need for a "new national dialogue".

But other delegates such as West Australian Indigenous artist Brenda Croft took exception to such terms.

"It just sounds really namby pamby to me, what does it mean?" she told her fellow delegates.

"I think there's a level of frustration that we're not getting to a ... point where we can come up with anything concrete," she said of the summit.

A number of delegates also expressed dissatisfaction with a document meant to sum up the group's ideas, and urged changes and additions.

Former Australian of the Year Fiona Stanley said the document had "watered down" delegate's ideas and failed to capture the passion in the room.

"This is just wishy-washy," she said, generating applause throughout the room.

Prof Stanley later helped Minister for Indigenous Affairs Jenny Macklin make changes to the document.

Queensland Indigenous leader Noel Pearson did not turn up to the summit yesterday, after criticising Saturday's sessions for failing to generate new ideas.

Mr Dodson called Mr Pearson's assessment "a bit harsh", but said he feared the ideas generated at the summit may be eaten up by the same political machine which repeatedly failed to act on reports into Indigenous disadvantage.

"(Ideas) will be put back into the same framework, and it will be responded to on a convenience basis, rather than on a reformist agenda," Mr Dodson said.

Bono is God

A SHORT STORY ABOUT "FUCKING MACHINES"

Fucking Machines
‘Fucking machines!’ Tony whispers spitefully at the top of his voice.
‘Fucking machines!’ he repeats to himself quietly.
The passengers listen intently as he kicks the ticket machine. ‘Gimme Back my fucking money… You... piss neck.’
He stands in front of it, looking for ways to retrieve his ticket.

‘Excuse me mate. I’m in a hurry.’ I say.
‘Tony.’
‘Excuse me’ I say.
‘Tony.’
‘Tony. Your name’s Tony.’
‘Tony.’ He repeats with a nod.
‘Hi Tony, why don’t you move to the side and let me try and get your ticket.’

I give the poor tacker a little shove and he takes his frail body back a step to the left, looking over my shoulder as I step in front of the machine. It’s really unnerving having this guy breathing down my neck but the poor wog's a bit demented.

The machine appears normal. I spend a few moments pushing some buttons, it appears to work just fine. No money in the change-return.
‘How much did you put in mate?’
No answer. I turn to look him in the face, so close I could feel his breath.
‘Fucking machine took my money.’ He repeats with great velocity as we both take half a step back, butting me right up against this ticket machine. He got quite a scare because his gaze went inwards and he walked away.
‘Fucking machines.’

‘What a fruit loop’ I mutter to the near by passengers.

I dial in my destination, put in the right change and the ticket pokes from its slot. No problems what’s so ever. Then from out of nowhere Tony’s hand snatches my ticket waves it in the air and he begins singing. ‘My ticket, my ticket’.

‘That’s not your ticket mate.' ' I paid for that ticket’. I say, quite patiently considering this nut case was half my size and I could snap him like a twig.
‘Come on Tony... give it back.’
‘It’s my ticket. I paid for it.’
‘Give it back.. Tony.’
‘My ticket, its my ticket.’
Angrily I hollered at him ‘Give it back or I’ll fucking well deck you’.
The poor sod broke into tears and began wincing. The whole tram was fixated on us. For three dollars and ten cents it wasn’t worth the head fuck.
‘Just keep the fucking ticket mate.’ I say.

I punched in the destination, put in my money, and no ticket pokes out. Just at that moment I hear some one yell ‘Tickets please.”

‘Fucking Machines!’

Analogy of a Sperm Bank

Animal Electricity

Shadow of a Minister

More racist scare mongering from the liberal Party with shadow Attorney General George Brandis claiming that signing the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples will elevate Aboriginal law over State law. Does he even know anything about the Native law?

This Shadow minister could probably learn a thing or two from a law who’s principles guided over 500 nations for many thousand years, or does he still believe the lie of Terra Nullius.?

What about the failings of his own government to uphold Australian law by suspending the racial discrimination act to pass the NT Intervention. Lets not forget The Weapons of Mass-destruction, the then Deputy Prime-minister John Anderson’s roll in the AWB scandal and so on.

Its no wonder that George Brandis prefers to be governed by a law that doesn’t hold politicians accountable in preference to a law of true natural justice.

MR Bush your a Facist

BROADCAST NATIONALLY ACROSS AMERICAN TV

Keith Olbermann Special Comment

Happening new year

Resistance is Futile