Day 31 rua (two)

Where's your story Blair Jackson?
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Muse um -
I'm musing how to spell museum.

Musing the knee jerk closure of our pyramid museum.

Socialists.

They get into their heads what needs done (that's good) but it's based on other reckonings they're not sharing with us.

Did they reckon that if our pyramid closed, it would domino into a new project representative of their concept of Utopia ?

Muse....um, we'll never know for sure. Hmm and unkind.
They never shared the whole of what was going on in their mind.
Socialists never truly share.
They talk a fest to make the hapless believe they care about community - but they're hiding their fist.

Socialists are the kids on the field who get away with deliberate punches to the ribs of smaller players. Meanwhile, the sporty latter, whilst truly concentrating on the ball, suffer an occasional bad conscience if their stray elbow accidentally tweaks an opponent.

One of the issues Ludlow revealed during his radio muddle was his frustration with the democratic process. I think that man pockets his balled up fist. 

Socialists create balls ups. Their idea of Utopia must be achieved come hell or high water. They are the most impractical people to have at the decision making table. They're a true dinkum pain. Muckers. All Us Moderates are out of patience with them.

Socialists won't give the team a chance to correct the unworkable bits of their Utopia. They are the world's most uncritical thinkers, and the most easily offended.
They criticise others to take the spotlight off their own shortcomings, and if civil debate comes their way they extend their rhetoric to cruel judgements - seriously dismaying their fellow Kiwis.
Then.. then...oh, this is so angrifying...they tell you to practise mindfulness.

Fallow - here's a question you could ask Ludlow -
"What caused you to pull out of your commitment to support Jacqueline for her prerecording at our community access radio station?"

Get yourself a story, man!
And, be forewarned - I already have the answer, and somebody will be capable of revisiting those emails if you require.
Oh, I'm forgetting - you didn't require, and you do love me not.

Mine's brewing with easy thoughts - unlike a great new muse um for our Socialists' Utopia, when we could have simply had a sign on the door of our pyramid museum and championed families to do what families do best - their own risk analyses.
For that matter, we still could. Kiwis are still in there?

Tell you what Michael - I'll spoon feed you the questions.
My deadline?
Years ago.
You've got a record of that.
The reason I remember this detail is because your response was beyond condescending.

Where did all your stories go? 

Now I'm remembering also that Ludlow made sure to make me understand that he has much journalistic experience.

There we go again - journalists reckon that they belong in the halls of power.
It's not about delivering factual news at all.

Where are your stories Fallow and Jackson?

 

This one of mine has become a jumble, including how
we still don't have an alternative water supply
but we had money to waste on baby minders for the council.

 

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My March PP testimony is floating around, possibly shredded in the wind by now.
Testimonies are lived experiences which beg to be shared, but there comes a time when the giver is empty again and is ready to create a new art work.
My PP testimony feels like several lifetimes ago already - except for the woman detail.

Thinking about Socialists' shenanigans can be triggering.
I'm reminded of Soper's special place in hell for women who don't support women.

 

In the Wellington station, the thuggery of the sergeant was pretty bad, but it was his enabling woman's attitude which still hurts. Like they say, the physical bruises heal, but...

Where are the journalists Jackson and Fallow?
You're scared of the feminists, you're scared of me.

It's true - women have a much harder time in politics than men do.

 

Yet, I think our country cannot turn this corner without a woman at the helm.
It's pretty much only Kiwi women now who can steady our country for the strong men we love.
How the real women need real men!
We can do it.
The next twenty years of The Next 500 depends upon this.