My country, not yours



I was at Coles the other day looking for the shortest line at the checkout. A nearby granny with a walking frame was clearly doing the same. The red cardboard triangle that said ‘go away’ was taken off the conveyor of a nearby checkout as it opened for business. We looked at each other, the granny and I, and ran—more like waddle-rolled on her part—for the empty checkout.

Thanks to my superior athletic ability, I made it first, of course. I did the gentlemanly thing and congratulated her for trying hard and coming second. I also consoled her in her defeat by explaining that I truly deserved to go first because I was faster than she could ever dream of being. Letting her go first was non-sensical, I owned that spot and wasn’t sharing, I deserved it. She mumbled an incoherent reply which I’m sure was praising my fleetness of foot and enlightened reasoning.

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Solutions, anyone? Time to move on from offshore processing


I thought I’d get in early since I expect the debate surrounding Australia’s treatment/processing/whatever other euphemism you fancy regarding the detainment of people-whose-refugee-status-is-yet-to-be-determined-but-let’s-hope-the-voters-forget-about-them-up-here-on-the-islands-of-the-Pacific-then-we-can-send-them-to-an-impoverished-third-country, will soon shift from dehumanising asylum seekers to taking responsibility—more likely avoiding it—and seeking an alternative solution.

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