Noisy anti-evacuers attended a rain soaked protest beside the pontoons of the flooded Parramatta River. They were protesting the Berejiklian Labor government evacuation orders for many parts of flooded NSW. The state has received rainfall of biblical proportions in the past week. The anti-evacuers denounce the heavy handed approach of the government, a spokesman said, “We haven’t been consulted, not anyone came talk to us. We tried to get her ex- lover[?] Darryl MacGuire to put a word in for us with premier Beryl, before she issued her draconian diktat.”
The spokesman continued, “Berejiklian, fell back on her tried and true, ‘I’ll do what the science says.'” News is coming in as we publish that a whole platoon of anti-evacuers has been swept away from the protest and were last seen bobbing up and down past Sydney’s majestic Opera House several tens of kilometres downstream.
As a kid I derived a fascination with the organ which I kept below my belt. The tropical climate meant we rarely dressed in anything more than a singlet and shorts, so whatever we carried got stuffed into the shorts pockets. My grubby shorts, two sizes too big were secured with dad’s hand-me-down belt.
In these pockets, pride of place was always found for my harmonica. An harmonica, given to me one Christmas, always went with me.
My harmonica provided times of, solace, pensive thoughtfulness, even the chance to show off. I admit these were all part of its seductive allure
Growing older, much older, I retired and took on blog reading. As a child I could never have imagined reading anything more useful than what was written in the Encyclopaedia Britannica.
Blog reading though was to prove how useful it could be.
Sure you have, like myth of NASA spending heaps to create a biro to work in zero gravity. The Russians chose a pencil ✏️[ the myth exposed below in # ]
Then we have the realm of poor ideas poorly executed. Recently Taiwan has been catapulted into first place with the sushi restaurant proposal to offer a free sushi dinner to anyone whose official name on an ID card, contained the word for Salmon, 蛙鱼
A rush of name changes lead to protests by government officials to remind folk to be more public spirited and stop wasting their time filing frivolous name changes.
The Thylacine reveal, was for thehobartchinaman, a bit of a damp squib.
Now there’s an interesting word use, it is NOT a damp squid.
The Thylacine Awareness Group Facebook page showed the latest much vaunted findings, debate raging, comments turned off for safety. To save reader’s time this page wil not be linked.
Susan Neil Fraser came to thehobartchinaman’s aid. Her appeal in the Supreme Court of Tasmania against her murder conviction, rested on new and compelling evidence being found subsequent to conviction. A recent law passed in Tasmania, allowed such appeals, when before none existed. For aficionado’s there’s a link below
Without the circus of T**** in the USA, the Thylacine disappointing, and no more body pieces being found in the Melissa Craddick debacle, here was an opportunity to see justice being dispensed.
thehobartchinaman caught the bus into the Supreme Court of Tasmania.
Video was relayed from the No 1 court’s proceedings, into covid safe public gallery of the No 2 court. I felt super safe on the green electrical tape cross stuck to the comfy leather benches. It was after all, 1.5 meters from my neighbor.
11 of 17 attendees were women, 9 of 17 wore glasses, all 17 were over 70 yo.
“So why are you here?” asked my neighbour leaning over .
“To see justice dispensed,” I smiled back.
“Oh, you’re not a supporter then?” she said peering over her glasses. Her paisley tights might have been more sightly on a women half her age.
“Yes, I’m interested to see how this case develops, there’s been a lot of speculation,” I replied,
“So you’re just an observer, eh?”
I rocked back. My wispy oriental beard came into its own.
Stroking the strands thoughtfully, I stroked slowly twice more for that oriental inscrutable effect.
“Mmhh, yes,” I slowly mused, “an observer,”I’m ambivalent to the outcome.”
Within the panelled gallery, it was clear the majority were supporters. All were willing the overturn of the original conviction.
I tried to follow the grounds of the appeal, wondering how the excusal of the chief new witness for the appellant was going to shake the outcome. The second appeal ground on the admissibility or not of DNA evidence being fresh and compelling, was lead to prove the attendance at the murder scene of the new witness.
This seemed to me a red herring, all the more so as the witness had recanted her sworn testimony saying she was at the murder scene.
For supporters it had been a disappointing day. As their Honours retired to give judgement, I could feel the wind, easing from the appellant’s case.
In due course we will know, I’m not a betting man, but I feel this cause is lost.
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