Occupy Centrelink

Mutual Obligation is a Cruel Joke. The entire economic system requires around 4 percent unemployment to keep wages down and inflation in check. That is not my opinion. It is official policy. The Reserve Bank and Treasury openly manage the economy with a built-in pool of unemployed people. We are not dole bludgers. We are providing an essential macroeconomic service by staying out of the labour market. Yet Centrelink still demands we jump through endless hoops: pointless job applications, pointless appointments, pointless reporting, all under the threat of having our payments cut. All while the system quietly depends on us remaining unemployed. This is not mutual obligation. It is one-sided humiliation. If the economy structurally needs a reserve army of unemployed workers, then forcing sick cancer patients, exhausted single mums in violent situations, and disabled people to look for work is not tough love. It is sadistic theatre. You cannot extract reciprocal effort from people who are already filling the exact role the system needs them to fill. We are already doing our part by being the buffer that protects everyone else’s wages and prices. That should be more than enough mutual obligation. Anything else is just bureaucratic cruelty dressed up as moral responsibility. The system does not want us to work. It needs some of us not to. The least it can do is stop punishing us for it.

Have to move from where Im living now because I lost my rental and theres no other housing available under $500 a week. Cant even afford the fuel to do it.

One Nation supporters when Pauline Hanson deports their Asian wives:

RIP

You Voted for Trump and Now You Have Explosive Diarrhea.

The First GOAL was scored by a migrant. That is the beauty of a country that embraces migration. No one knew who the boys could become. Now we all have seen who they are. If One Nation was in power they would deport half the team and defund SBS so A ustralians couldnt even watch the soccer. Its utter hypocrisy of them to celebrate this win.

The economy cant be too bad if people have $4 million dollars to waste on Pauline Hanson.

The Snowfields Are Open, But Winter Is Missing. This is winter in Australia now: chairlifts turning slowly over brown slopes, families standing quietly before stretches of mud where snow should sparkle under bright skies, and snow guns firing uselessly into warm rain. The resorts opened right on time, yet nature never arrived. It breaks my heart. There is a deep, quiet grief in watching childhood magic fade before our eyes. Those crisp, white High Country winters once felt eternal, with their sharp, clean air, the soft hush beneath the gum trees, and the joyful squeals of children racing on sleds. They are slipping away. This is not merely a disappointing season. It is a warning wrapped in sorrow. Sydney is racing toward its warmest start to winter since records began in 1859. Across the nation, temperatures linger well above average as confused flowers bloom too soon and the mountains stand bare and exposed. We are losing the seasons that shaped us. Even more painful, we are learning to accept it.Each record-hot year settles into the new normal. Each thin winter dulls the ache a little more. The lyrebirds still sing their ancient songs in the Snowy Mountains, but their mimicry now echoes across a landscape that is changing faster than they can follow. The children chasing these scraps of snow will carry memories far thinner than the snowpack their parents once knew.This hurts because we love this land fiercely: its wild beauty, its stubborn rhythms, and the quiet promise it once held for every generation. That love calls us to stop pretending everything is fine. Physics does not bend to politics. The atmosphere pays no attention to our distractions or divisions. We can mourn what is fading. Yet that mourning must sharpen into fierce resolve. Better choices, honest leadership, and shared courage remain within reach. The snow may be missing this year, but the fight for a livable future does not have to be. Look at those empty, muddy slopes. Really look. Let the sight stir something deep inside you. Then let that feeling move you to act. Our children deserve real winters, not faded photographs of what once was.

New Captcha just dropped.

Please Ex-plane.

The Beetrooter Rides Again - Here he is again, the former Deputy Prime Minister, the man who looks like he has been left out in the sun too long and marinated in Grange. He wanders around spraying his usual effluent about people who look like recent arrivals dominating housing auctions. Look at him. Red faced, bug eyed, tie like a strangled python that gave up halfway. He jabs his sausage fingers in the air as if conducting an orchestra of his own grievances. This is the intellectual giant who once thought it was a good idea to move his pregnant mistress into the lodge while still married. A man of impeccable judgment, clearly. Now he is out there doing what he does best: dividing, whinging, and peddling barnyard economics. Fewer than one per cent of homes bought by foreigners, the figures say. But why let facts get in the way of a good old fashioned race baiting whinge? No, not for our Beetrooter. He has a nose for the scent of resentment like a pig hunting truffles. Except the only thing he ever digs up is his own mediocrity. Published on Substack by a voice that refuses to suffer fools, especially the ones with beetroot complexions and barnyard policies: open.substack.com/pub/daveho…