Author Archives: Therese Trouserzoff

A Pig Psalm of Dave*

14 Saturday May 2011

Posted by in Pig Psalms, Sandshoe

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An Apologia after the Psalm 141
Oink for Deliverance from the Wicked

 

by Sandshoe.

Dinkum, mate, I have to ask; get a wriggle on; (reprise) it’s as if he’s deaf, believe me.

I’m not just a bad smell; my uplifted hands an evening sacrifice; (reprise) many’s the pink drink I’ve raised pissed iss all lies!

Muzzle me, mate; I’m the fat lady who sings.

You allowed my thoughts incline to pies, yield to any sign; the McDonalds’ even where I thrice once bought an apple pie.

Yeah, over the back fence where I lived in Melbourne, next to Balwyn’s library; (reprise) yeah, that opposite that 24-hour superette.

I pledge I’ll not dine again on Maccas as long as I exercise free will; (reprise) Old McDonald’d be spittin’ chips if he knew what they did to his song.

Strike me pink; that is a given; let them tick me off; o, so pouring oil on a lit wick.

All this I shall not refuse, yet donkeys bray despite their trials.

When the fast foods oleaginous are overthrown, all will hear my brayers and laugh along.

All will cook by the Pigs Arm’s cooks’ book; o, readers, send your recipes in.

As when a bull looks at a butcher, so their choice cuts will be strewn at the mouth of Sheol; (aside) o, typo in the name of Shoe, oops.

You need be on your best, matey, cobber; this pub is my local; please, please don’t eat the daisies; (reprise) please.

I’m not paranoid, but seriously I’m thinking Security.

Let each be hoist on their own petard, while I run all the way home whee whee whee.

*disclaimer: not piglet Dave a.k.a. Astyages, troubadour to the Pig’s Arms.

http://www.thesacredheart.com/psalm/psalm141.htm

Foodge 24 – Foodge’s Hangover

11 Wednesday May 2011

Posted by in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

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Not just any old gloom, but tenebrous gloom

Foodge woke surrounded by tenebrous gloom. His initial impression was that he had been buried alive! Two facts argued against that; One, he was face down, and Two he could smell leather, sweat and a faint scent of lavender. The sound of a high-speed electric motor cut through the silence. He was now quite sure that he wasn’t underground, as he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to hear much underground. He tried to move, but the crick in his neck and pins and needles in his arms prevented any activity. He tried to call out, but his dry throat, and the fact that his face was pushed into the surface on which he lay, prevented more than a plaintive. “elp….ay…agh!” The stomp of heavy footsteps had Foodge’s highly trained musculature ready for action. He was suddenly blinded by sunlight as a heavy blanket was jerked back from his face. Foodge clenched his eyes shut, ready for whatever torture his abductor had prepared.

“What the f$*&.” Merv exclaimed, sweat running down his face (he had just returned from his morning gym session). “I thought that Fern and Emmjay took you home!” Merv was assisted by young Wes to slowly get the hapless detective up from the chesterfield, onto his feet and gently ambulate him out of the Ladies Lounge, and into the Main Bar.

“Someone must’ve slipped me a Mickey Finn.” Foodge surmised, based on his amnesia and throbbing headache.

“Mickey Finn!” Merv laughed.” How about eight bottles of our best Porphyry Pearl between you, Fern, Emmjay an’ Effemm?” A bowl of Granny’s wedges appeared on the bar next to a pint of Trotter’s Best. “Get these into yer guts, son, that’ll fix you up!”

Foodge was onto his third pint before he started to feel human. Merv went about his publican duties, which seemed to involve a lot of restocking, straightening of bar stools and disposing of broken glasses. It all started to come back to him. He had, in promise to his solicitor decided to sack Fern, but, lacking the guts to do so by himself, brought Emmjay and his First Mate to provide support over a couple of drinks.

The sacking had been a disaster. As sackings go, the only worst sacking in history was the sacking of Gough Whitlam. Fern had reacted badly to the news, and fled to the Ladies, knocking over two pints of Trotter’s Best and a bowl of wedges in the process. Foodge sat there dumbly hoping that Effemm would leap into the fray, or, rather the Ladies, and provide succour to the young woman. She didn’t move. Nor did Emmjay, except for an almost imperceptible sideways movement of his eyes, which Foodge took to mean that it was his responsibility to comfort Fern.

Foodge had never been to the Ladies, and was surprised to learn that it was a fairly spacious, clean and well appointed and maintained area. It wasn’t hard to work out which cubicle held young Fern, the sobs could be heard out in the bar.  Meanwhile, Emmjay and Effemm were laying bets as to how many minutes it would take Fern to wheedle her way back into Foodge’s employ.  Effemm won: seven minutes had elapsed before the pair returned and Foodge announced that, whilst it was true that Fern had been dismissed as secretary, she had been re-employed as Office Manager. He also announced that there was a new phase in Foodge’s operations, which would involve computers, mobile phones, digital cameras, and so on. Emmjay, who was a fairly canny fellow and couldn’t let the opportunity go by, offered his services as I.T. Consultant and Network Engineer (whatever those jobs entailed).

This, of course, meant that the ‘afternoon drinks/sacking’ had become a party to mark two new positions in Foodge’s company. Foodge called for ‘bubbly’ and Merv obliged with Porphyry Pearl. Foodge demanded food, and Granny cooked wedges, with sour cream and sweet chilli sauce. Foodge wanted music, and, unfortunately the jukebox was stuck on ‘A Summer Holiday’, which repeated over and over. I guess you can’t have ‘em all.

“Well”. Foodge thought out loud. “Here’s to the Pigs Arms and all those who imbibe in her. May her Best Bitter stay bitter, and her Pink Drinks stay sickly sweet!”

“What was that, Foodge.” Merv’s bulbous head popped up from behind the bar. “Wannanuther drink?”

“Nothing, Merv. Yes, why not?” Foodge grinned as he tipped his Fedora back from his forehead.

Hardware Gallery Does it Again !

11 Wednesday May 2011

Posted by in Cricics, Critics, Everyone's a Critic, Emmjay

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Across the road and down a bit from the Pig’s Arms, we are blessed by having a wonderful gallery – owned and managed for the last ten years by a local landmark  – Lew Palaitis.

Lew holds 20 or so exhibitions every year and is a strong supporter of new as well as established artists, art students and quite a lot of the local wildlife.

FM and I go there regularly.  For those of us who can get there, please go !  And for those of us in distant climes, enjoy Hardware Gallery’s web site ….

http://hardwaregallery.com.au/index.html

Modern Love

07 Saturday May 2011

Posted by in Bands at the Pig's Arms, Warrigal Mirriyuula

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Playlist by Warrigal Mirriyuula

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yr8xDSPjII8

Diana Krall The Look Of Love

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pzYpHXCumII

Lisa Stansfield Never Ever Gonna Give You Up

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=meemrAUJPFE

Steely Dan Pixeleen

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WcWHZc8s2I

Sade No Ordinary Love

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1hdlzpyF9o

The Doobie Brothers You Belong To Me

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-aOqKTniYU

Cee Lo Green What Part Of Forever

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hDbpF4Mvkw

David Bowie Modern Love

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GR_kO6gbIMo

Barry White & Lisa Stansfield All Around The World

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Hu1cYDW1FY

Everything But The Girl Missing

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k1z5DZEse3I

Dusty Springfield & The Pet Shop Boys In Private

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gV2ggqJz4us

The Communards Run Away

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3IWTfcks4k

Usher U Got It Bad

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3UMpBqzVW4&feature=relmfu

Annie Lennox A Whiter Shade Of Pale

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_emz0o638PQ

The Waifs London Still

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nj_ZznMMRic&feature=relmfu

Faith Hill It Matters To Me

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zCvnfK-VIg

Joni Mitchell Coyote

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZRTbjpFCF4

Grace Jones I’ve Seen That Face Before

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eEnvN_kTpiY

Paul Young Wherever I Lay My Hat

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ybnsxCGg6E

Elvis Costello Everyday I Write The Book

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzfwtX2kgOA

Steely Dan Hey Nineteen (I know I’ve put this one up before but I just love this clip.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8MhpofxMgk

The Rolling Stones I’m Just Waiting On A Friend

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ba9mkkAhzkE&feature=fvst

Phoebe Snow No Regrets

 

Keywords: Diana Krall, Lisa Stansfield, Steely Dan, Sade, The Doobie Brothers, Cee Lo Green, David Bowie, Barry White, Lisa Stansfield, Everything But The Girl, Dusty Springfield, The Pet Shop Boys, The Communards, Usher, Annie Lennox, The Waifs, Faith Hill, Joni Mitchell, Grace Jones, Paul Young, Elvis Costello,The Rolling Stones, Phoebe Snow

VIVIENNE’S Food for Winter

06 Friday May 2011

Posted by in Vivienne

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Cooking in the colder months often means more casseroles, stews, roasts and pasta dishes.  As I am quite certain that most of you are more than adept at the roast dinner and the old spag bol or lasagna I shall bypass them and go straight to a few of our other family favourites.  If you want something spicy and special go back to my Special Occasion recipes (e.g. Raan).  All year round I cook a curry once a week (lamb or chicken), home cooked fish and chips and various prawn dishes but in winter I am rather fond of one or two pot cooking.

 

 CROCK POT ROAST BEEF

 They call them slow cookers these days but I still have my 1976 crock pot in working order.  It has three temperatures, low, medium and high – I don’t know what the new ones have so forgive me if it doesn’t all translate.

I usually start cooking on High and once the process begins (after about 1 hour) I turn down to Medium and cook for about 4 hours and then down to Low until we are ready to eat.  (You can of course cook it on low all day while you go fishing but it does need to be turned at least once in my experience.)

First, place an even size piece of topside  (1.5 to 2 kgs) on to a bed of quartered potatoes, put more potatoes pieces around the meat plus carrot and parsnip pieces, sprinkle with a generous amount of salt, pepper and a teaspoon or two of beef stock powder, a few sloshes of tomato sauce and a cup of water.  Put lid on and cook as above.  At each change of temperature turn the meat and vegetables to ensure they are cooking evenly.   Taste liquid to check for seasoning.

Cook your cauliflower, sprouts or peas to accompany in the usual way.  In another small saucepan, prepare to make the best gravy ever.  Make a small roux with butter and wholemeal flour.  Tilt your cock pot to enable you to get a ladle in and remove a cup or more of the broth.  Gradually add this to the roux and stir to make your gravy.

To serve, slice the meat thickly.   It will seem to have shrunk a fair bit but don’t worry about that as all the juices are there to be enjoyed in your gravy. It will be well cooked but still moist.  Offer horseradish sauce at the table.  Serves 4 or 5 people.

STIPHADO (a Greek ragout – modified from Elizabeth David’s recipe)

 

To serve 4 you need a kilo of boned leg of lamb.  Cut meat into approx. 1 ½ inch chunks and brown them in a little olive oil, add about 12 whole shallots (if large, cut in half) and three finely chopped cloves of garlic.  Stir and then add 140g tub of tomato paste and a glass of good red wine (say a shiraz or cab/sav) and half a teaspoon of salt and some black pepper.  Stir and as soon as it starts to boil turn right down low, put lid on pot and let bloop bloop for at least two hours. (During this time do check it and you might need to add just a little water.)  Serve with creamy mashed potatoes and your choice of greens (beans would be best).

 THE POSSIBILITIES OF WHITE SAUCE (also called Béchamel)

I always make my white sauce using wholemeal flour and butter – make a roux with one tablespoon of each, take off heat and add quarter teaspoon salt, a few shakes of cayenne pepper and a few pinches of mustard powder.   Gradually add a little milk to blend the roux, return to heat and continue adding milk (about one cup)and then keep cooking and stirring till thickened and flour is properly cooked through.  (Note:  to make it gluten free use rice flour instead but you may need a little more.)

From this you can then make a Cheese Sauce simply by adding a large handful of grated tasty cheese (Bega is good).

Or, you can make it a Cream Sauce by using 2/3 milk and 1/3 cream.

Or, a Parsley Sauce, by simply adding a tablespoon or more to taste of freshly chopped parsley.  This goes well with poached cod which should simply be poached in plain water and changed twice more before serving with the sauce.

With the Cheese Sauce you can make a simple one pot meal as follows.

 

ASPARAGUS AND CORN MORNAY

 

Use a small casserole dish about 3 inches deep.  This will be plenty for two people.  You will need a cup of Cheese Sauce, a tin of creamed corn, a tin of asparagus spears, a roughly chopped rasher of bacon or ham, 3 hard boiled eggs.

Place all the corn in the bottom, drain the asparagus very well (for at least 15 minutes) and cut spears into three or four pieces and layer over the corn, add the bacon or ham and then the eggs which you have sliced up with an egg slicer, and lastly pour over the sauce.  Cook in moderate pre-heated oven for ¾  hour or until it is just starting to bubble.   Serve in bowls.

CREAMED EGGS with CURRIED RICE

 

Allow three eggs per person.  This will serve two people or simply double quantities for four etc.

Hard boil 6 eggs and cut into quarters.  Make about a cup and a half of Cream Sauce and gently add eggs and heat through.

Earlier in the day, cook a cup of long grain rice (salted) and allow to cool.  In a shallow fry pan add a tablespoon of ghee and gently fry one large sliced onion (halve it and then slice), then add:

  • 2 teaspoons of ground coriander
  • 1 teaspoon of ground cummin
  • ½ teaspoon of ground ginger
  • ¼ teaspoon of ground cardamom
  • ½ teaspoon of turmeric
  • ¼ teaspoon of chilli powder
  • ¼ teaspoon of salt
  • ¼ teaspoon of pepper

Add a little more ghee to ensure there is some moisture there.   Then gradually fork in the rice, mix and heat gently for at least 15 minutes till the rice is just slightly dried or vaguely crisp.

Serve on plates by making a circle of the rice and spoon in the egg mixture into the centre.

PS to this dish  –  instead of eggs you can use scallops – you will need half a kilo of scallops which you should slightly pre-cook and drain well on a paper towel before adding to the cream sauce.

TWO EASY AND ECONOMICAL DISHES

Bubble and Squeak – my grandmother made this using left-over (not really, she always cooked more vegetables than needed) roast potatoes, carrots, pumpkin and parsnips and cauliflour or cabbage.  Chop up and add to large frypan with plenty of butter.  Keep cooking and flattening till it gradually blends together into a lovely smelling squeak.   If you don’t have such leftovers, simply boil up a large pot of various vegetables, drain well and cook the same way.  Plenty of salt and pepper and usually additional blobs of butter along the way.    Serve with any left over roast beef, lamb or even corned silverside.

Old fashioned Irish Stew – a big one pot dinner.  Two or three lamb shoulder chops (cut off excess fat) per person, simmered just in well salted and peppered water till just done.  Add chunks of potato, carrot and parsnip.  Cook till done.  Thicken with real cornflour and water paste.  Cook another 15 minutes and eat.  So simple and tasty (it defies logic).  Note:  the meat should be basically overcooked, starting to fall off the bone.  It is not necessary to remove the so-called impurities in the early stages, just stir and they will absorb back into the resulting broth.

Reflections On a Pond.

06 Friday May 2011

Posted by in Sandshoe

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Leaf Fall

Painting and story by Sandshoe.

There is an unearthly silence in the park as I look across to the kiosk, although the through traffic is visible in the proximity created by the the sweep of the drive past two and one-storey homes planned as residential accommodation for The Games. Ambling lovers, photographers and students appear deaf anyway to the sudden protest of cars braking to avoid the ducks crossing, lost in a world far removed from the built-up environ of this suburb … yes, perhaps they are locals and even longing as I did for the especial comfort of the quiet of a back street avenue and a home with a sweep of untidy rooms for its residents and occasional visitors.

Where I stayed there was a white shag pile carpet in the front living room that looked out on the promenade and path across the park.

This is the suburb of some dreams and some earthly disasters where I spent a summer like water, the houses in an arc of a bright sun splattering window glare and the humdrum; it was hot and drought. Water restrictions were unheard of and water splashed in a reticulated circuit out of green cloth shade enclaves of hanging plants and jangling banboo. Sturt Desert Pea was coaxed to take root in front gardens bordering lawn that was cherished to grow table napkin fashion amidst cement driveways and pebble paths. Some homes sprouted shrubbery. It graced their no-fence look fencing and plonked itself in the middle of nooks set in a red brick wall. A brush gate for a moment swung open on its hinge. I saw a small dog run through it.

In the dark of night cars came and parked. People got out of them and talked. No-one lingered. Cars went and more cars came.

I really am contributing by finishing my writing of this piece, this late Friday afternoon, to the celebration of the 2nd birthday of the Pig’s Arms. Beginning to write, I felt an inspiration of passion to tell readers something of an experience of suburbia I had one year where I was holed up some days on end working on the layout and preparation for publishing of a community anthology. The days were stinking hot and dry. I was on a deadline. My entertainment to stretch my legs was to walk the distance around a pond over the road, past cars parked no further distance from the front door of the home address than the width of a normal curved no-exit turn around at the end of suburban street. The wisdom of the planners was to create a parking bay allowing cars to come and go as cars do at a tourist venue.

Sometimes I heard words spoken by passengers alighting from their vehicles or as they tarried beside their opened car boots to take out picnic blankets and baskets, sketching tablets and chairs, unfolding children’s push chairs. I tuned out. No, sometimes I reflected on the tone of the voices. I will never understand why people buy their homes in the sort of enclave created by noise indifferent suburban planners.

Readers, just as perhaps you suppose by reading on you will find the answer why (if you have not guessed) there was an unearthly silence in the park, described in my opening of this essay and that regardless followed by evidence of noise a-plenty, likely you suppose I will tie everything up pretty well nicely before I get to the end, weave the threads of the story, snip them somewhere, so there is no fray.

Too tidy. This is what I want to say, really.

Happy birthday, Pig’s Arms. May we enjoy the fortune for many birthdays to come of the venue and its patrons, which is its companionship and the sharing of our written word, our experience, our imagination and ourselves. Well done, Mike Jones. Thank you for The Arms.

Two Years ! Who’d have thought ?

06 Friday May 2011

Posted by in Algernon

≈ 28 Comments

Playlist and Greetings from Algernon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40K2S0-5Xo0

altered images – Happy birthday

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFh-rX_Sfhs

The chipmunks

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FchMuPQOBwA

Stevie Wonder – Happy Birthday

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-28jAoTPFw

The Arrogant Worms – Happy Birthday

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztoSUhbNntQ

The Beatles – Happy Birthday

So the Palais de Porc has turned two today, who’d have thought. A sanctuary where we can all write and post in peace. We can laugh, cry,  be happy or sad or share much about ourselves or musical tastes.

Thought I’d look to youtube for some inspiration here. Incredible! Singing dogs, cats even a cockatiel. Someone singing Happy Birthday with their cat manages 2000000 hits! Shlock galore.

Anyhow Merv a round of trotters or pink drinks for everyone and bowls of wedges as you sit back and enjoy this little selection.

An Open Letter to the Management and Patrons of the Pigs Arms

06 Friday May 2011

Posted by in Gregor Stronach

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A little something Gregor dug up.....

By Gregor Stronach

Dear Mike et al,

I don’t write for fun anymore.

I know, I know… What an appalling statement to put on paper. Or type on screen. Or even think at all. For someone whose burning desire for the bulk of their adult life was to bring mirth to the millions (or at least chuckles to the occasional Internet Random) through inadequately researched satire, the admission that I’ve not told a joke in anger in years is horrible.

I’ve become everything I despised: grown-up, middle-aged, mortgage-paying “Dad” – complete with questionable fashion sense and a secret desire to donkey-punch young, single men in the back of the head whenever I see them having fun and not being responsible for anything other than themselves.

Not that I’m bitter. No. I’m fine. Just… tired. Hence, cranky. Ergo, quite likely to punch anyone who still plays video games past the age of 30. You know… those guys.

Still, I shouldn’t complain. It’s been a long time coming, and it’s not like my life is over or anything.

I should, at this point, definitely clarify that having a family is one of the single most joy-inducing things I’ve ever done. Having a mortgage, sadly, is not. So the combination of the two means that, with the world’s (and my) finances being what they are, I still write.

But only for money. And never for fun.

At least, that’s how it’s been for the past two years – which, coincidentally as it turns out, is the exact period of time that the Pigs Arms has been open.

Now, if I were Andrew Bolt or Miranda Devine, I could simply make the logical leap that it’s because of the Pigs Arms that I don’t write for fun anymore. Think about it. There’s no such thing as coincidence. You’re open for business, and my mind has snapped shut like a mouse trap on Mickey.

I’ve been paralysed from the cortex, down. I’m the Christopher Reeve of writing.

However, if I really were Andrew Bolt or Miranda Devine, I’d be too busy pandering to my audience of half-brained skull-fucks in tinfoil hats to make an actual point. And, having neatly avoided doing so, I shall deftly change tack.

No one will notice.

See?

I shouldn’t be focussing on me. I should be focussing on the achievement of somebody, somewhere, flicking a virtual switch and hanging this site’s shingle out for the world to see. Creating a haven for those of us who were burned once, twice or three times too many by the Bad Man from Aunty.

I mean, seriously – I know that the god-fearing, tax-paying slack-jaws of Penrith and beyond probably don’t necessarily like the idea that their 33c a day might end up lining the pockets of some left-wing “satirist”, whose every article was – in current internet parlance – trolling, and nothing more.

(I secretly think that, just perhaps, they caught on. Which is why I’m not welcome there anymore. I hope so – surely no editor could be so transparently and terminally stupid. Can they?)

I shouldn’t complain, really. They published every single thing I ever offered them, regardless of how mean-spirited it was. But, at last count, my ‘renegotiated-in-my-absence-and-no-longer-open-for-discussion’ fee of $100 for a 1200 word article is highway robbery. So they can go fuck themselves.

I refuse to write for free. But I take even greater umbrage at being offered such a paltry sum.

I’ve done my time. I’ve worked for nothing as I learnt my craft. For years, I was underpaid for my contributions to more outlets than I care to name. I never, ever expected it from the ABC.

*big breath in*

*slow exhale*

Okay. Sorry. Tangents again.

Anyway. I’m actually writing to say Happy Birthday to the Pigs Arms. I’m writing, because you can’t sing happy birthday to a website. You just can’t.

Try it. You’ll get about three lines into the song, and then be suddenly overwhelmed by the same feeling you get when you realise that you’re acting like a dickhead at the zoo in the off chance an animal will do something equally as dumb, for your amusement.

Or, worse still, you’ll get a sudden sinking feeling of ego-destroying self-realisation, similar to the sensation you get when you realise your dog is watching you masturbate. And wagging its tail.

But I digress. Again. Mea Culpa. I’ll behave. Promise.

As far as outposts go, this little corner of the internet’s not bad. It’s kind of like Norfolk Island – sparsely populated, but housing quality inhabitants who are far less likely to kill each other than the general population of the mainland.

Of course, there’s no Colleen McCollough hanging around, writing novels and generally making everyone else feel helplessly inadequate. No – instead there’s a sense of camaraderie. A coming together of like-minded men and women, who share a passion for the written word, a wicked pun or simply want somewhere to empty the strange box of tricks that they keep at the back of their mind.

You know the box I’m talking about. It’s the one that smells a bit musty when you open it up, and you can pretend in polite company to be a bit shocked at what’s inside, but really… you’re only fooling yourself.

Tangent again goddammitsomuch!

Anyway. Happy Birthday, Pigs Arms. Congratulations to everyone involved, from the casual blow-ins to the regulars, implementers, facilitators and, dare I say it, enablers amongst us all.

Oh – and Mike – By asking me to contribute, you’ve got me writing for fun again.

So this one’s on the house.

Your friend,

Gregor

Roo

06 Friday May 2011

Posted by in Lehan Winifred Ramsay

≈ 14 Comments

Roo

Painting and story by Lehan Winifred Ramsay

Roo jumps the fence, lands in a completely different paddock. Can’t jump back cause of the way the trees have grown around the fence. Maybe if he went way up the hill to the other side of the scrub he could find a way back. He’s not really sure though if it’s really that he liked the other paddock better or that this paddock is just not what he’s used to. He jumped across without thinking about it too much. It was the only way he could get himself to jump, was to not think too much. The minute he landed he did think. Oh no. This was a mistake. I want to go back.

But Roo knows that back is not a solution. Back is a problem. There are a lot of things that make back a bad idea. Back to the other paddock says; not enough grass, not enough roos like himself, and that bitter wind that blows in from the north. So there’s here that doesn’t feel right, and back there that wasn’t right either.

There’s not much that can be done. Sure he could run back now. And he is a bit tempted. But this might be a good paddock, better than the other one. Leaving now would make it impossible to know. Leaving now isn’t smart. There isn’t anything smart that can be done to make things easier here either. Nothing but taking one little step and then another and another. The occasional hop.

Roo thinks back to his meeting with those Pigs people. T’was them who told me about this paddock, he thought. Made it sound a bit worth giving a try. They should all be around here somewhere. Something about a second birthday.

Osama: A death marred by mistruths

06 Friday May 2011

Posted by in Reuben Brand

≈ 53 Comments

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By the Pig’s Arms Middle East Correspondent Reuben Brand

“USA! USA! USA!” echoed through the streets of New York City, as thousands of people, adorned with American flags, placards and slogans, congregated at Ground Zero to celebrate the death of Osama bin Laden.

“Now that he’s dead, it feels good! To feel excited about somebody’s death is a weird feeling, but when it comes to him (bin Laden) it’s alright!” Said Michael Carol, a young man who lost his father on September 11.

Since the death of Osama bin Laden the popular media has been awash with White House spin. Commentators, politicians, analysts, anyone with a public voice, all towing the official line and like good little boys and girls, not questioning the vast holes in the abyss that is US “intelligence” in this mess that is the death of one man.

“Bin Laden is dead! Bin Laden is dead…  Osama bin Laden is dead! Happy days! Happy days everybody! This is the greatest night of my career! The bum is dead! The savage who hurt us so grievously… and I’m so blessed, I’m so privileged to be at this desk, at this moment!” Cheered Geraldo Rivera from Fox News, as he high fived a colleague.

So quickly the West descends from its moral high horse, so quickly it returns to a mob mentality, so quickly it becomes the thing that it hunts. The thing that it hates.

Osama bin Laden’s death was the result of a targeted assassination. But there are too many holes in the official story to believe it outright. I am a sceptic and refuse to ingest garbage that is continuously served up by a super power with such a bad track record. WMD’s in Iraq, ring any bells?

The initial story was one of a heroic mission, wherein a triumphant team of US Special Forces stormed bin Laden’s “heavily fortified” compound (which was apparently only 50 kilometres from the capital Islamabad – but we will address that later), encountered an armed struggle with bin Laden who resisted detainment and then callously used one of his wives as a human shield. The result of which was the death of bin Laden, his wife and a number of al Qaeda operatives.

Bin Laden’s body was then airlifted away by US Special Forces only to be dumped at sea 24 hours later.  Even a common criminal’s body would have been kept for longer – bear in mind, this was the most wanted man in the world, so where is the post-mortem examination report? Where are the DNA tests to prove identity? Where is the video evidence of this sea burial? Where is any evidence from the entire operation?

According to Washington and regurgitated by the Sydney Morning Herald, “Bin Laden’s body was washed and placed in a white sheet, following Islamic custom. The body was then put in a weighted bag. A military official read religious remarks that were translated into Arabic. The body was placed on a board that was then tipped, and the body was ‘eased into the sea’.”

“Eased into the sea,” it sounds so gentle, so poetic, like an act of kindness and care. I am curious as to when the US military suddenly became so respectful of religious customs, traditions and formalities. The actions at Abu Ghraib in Iraq, Guantanamo Bay in Cuba and Bagram Prison in Afghanistan all tell a different tale of respect.

Remember, the West has been hunting this man for nearly ten years now. One would think every aspect of this operation would have been documented.

Apparently, President Obama has the official death photos of bin Laden, but does not want to release them for fear of offending and infuriating the Muslim world – news flash Obama, you just killed the leader of al Qaeda – pretty sure you’ve pissed of a few people already.

The simple fact is that a large majority of the Muslim world do not follow, or believe in bin Laden’s ideology. They want freedom and democracy, just like you and I – the revolutions and uprisings against corrupt dictatorships and regimes in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Bahrain, Yemen and Syria are all testament to this.

Yes, al Qaeda will use bin Laden’s death photos as propaganda pieces to inspire more hatred, just as the West uses every available media outlet as a vehicle of propaganda to do just the same thing.

New versions of the official story are emerging – now we learn that the official story has been changed, again. This time, apparently bin Laden was not armed when he was shot, he didn’t use his wife as a human shield, she wasn’t killed, she was shot in the leg and his young daughter was present and witnessed her father’s assassination.

One curious piece to this story is the geographic proximity of Islamabad to Abbottabad.  The popular media would have you believe that it is a short 50km drive, that bin Laden was living just next door to President Zardari, that Pakistan itself is in on the whole thing.

I have worked in Pakistan and have travelled up into the mountains to Muzaffarabad – the road to Muzaffarabad goes directly through Abbottabad and I can tell you, it takes a lot longer than a brisk 50km drive. Do a quick Google maps search and you will find that the average distance is actually around 123km on roads that are sometimes very precarious. When simple facts such as these are so blatantly overlooked and not even fact checked by so called journalists, we have to question the full story and its authenticity.

We have no proof; we only have the word of an administration that is known for its mistruths. It does make for a good story though, but who’s to say bin Laden didn’t die a long time ago? Who’s to say he isn’t still alive? Without proof we are left with hypothetical stories.

As long as we are speaking in hypothetical’s, here’s one for you. Osama bin Laden, an old, weak and very sick man, who was reported to have been on a dialysis machine for much of his time, died peacefully in his compound in Abbottabad, explaining the large amount of family members who were present to attend the funeral. The US, who had surveillance of the region caught wind of this and seized an opportunity too good to pass up – Osama bin Laden cannot die of natural causes – America must take credit for capturing public enemy number one!

Hypothetical? Yes. True? Who knows, but it is just as plausible as the official US version.

Has US Foreign Policy become synonymous with targeted assassinations, covert espionage and clandestine raids? Is the West safer now that the leader of al Qaeda is dead?

The actions of the US have violated and vilified Pakistan’s sovereignty. Pakistan is now under intense scrutiny by the international community, the very convenient capture and killing of bin Laden have given the US carte blanche (not that it needs any more) to do as it sees fit in the region. Pakistan has become the new public enemy number one.

Make no mistake, Osama bin Laden is no victim. The acts of September 11 were gruesome, they were brutal and they were uncalled for. The loss of innocent life is an inexcusable travesty no matter where it occurs, how it occurs or who perpetrates it

Reuben Brand is a Freelance Journalist – for more information please visit his website at: www.reubenbrand.com