Thursday 28th of November 2024
Home » Blogs » Gus Leonisky's blog

canned values .....

canned values .....
 

Let's face it.

In more than 2000 years of Christianity we've learned zip about Christian values...

At this point in time, 2007 approaching, a tad over 45 years after the flower power failed enlightened revolution, all we've managed to badly grasp and preach about is related to sex and less sex. Thy shall not f**k before marriage - abstinence and all that jazz. Sad misunderstanding of nature.

For the rest of the Christian values tablets, as to create and protect the loot, we've got morality bypass and Alzheimer big-time. "Love thy neighbour? Shall not kill? Shall not envy? shall not steal?" ... Not a single day do we adhere to any of these lovely principles, like turning the other cheek or not being greedy. Sure individually we might be and we are virtuous, but as a group we sux bigtime...

Yes folks, greed rules the capitalist world, a world that uses wrath, lust, gluttony, hubris, porkies as tools of the trade. Sins galore during the week, washed away on Sunday by swallowing the wafer of contrition and starting again, getting wealthier by the sin-load - black carrion painted like white doves to give us that "cleansed rinse look"....

See, our UnAustralian-in-chief spurts out, daily, words like "aspirational prosperity"... which under his rotten ratship means "greed and envy of what others have" to titillate our motivation to have more, consume more - dangling the illusion of a rotten carrot to make a donkey move forward, as if it was possible for us to loot as much as some of the biggest looters, at the beach-heads of looting organisation, who, comes rain or sunshine, will accumulate bonuses the size of our entire life's earning, in five minutes.

Yes, we are donkeys... Yes, when one talks about aspirational prosperity, one avoids the proper challenges of human rights, of social justice, of sharing, of growing without destroying our environment. Thus this process encourages avarice of ideals, thus renamed wheeling and dealing, turning everyone (most of us) into selfish machines of want, of fat, of lust and hubris.. of corruption and of murder. And we live on, as if it was all normal.

Yes by letting our Johnnee Rodent lead us into an illegal war to support his dummy dumb mate, Dubya, we have become accomplices in the murders of more than 600,000 people - no matter how noble or rotten our reasons were. War is UnChristian, even if we're only dipping our little toe in it.

And this advice goes for our Mr Rudd-for-Rudder as well. We have to regain the grounds of sharing ethics, with proper principles and actions that gives us not pride (another sin temptation brought to you by movie stars' pretentious fame, cultivated by magazines designed to sell you curvaceous illusions you'll never be able to achieve) but joyful humility in being human, a species that should share the shrinking earth with other species as fellow travellers through time... - a species that should awaken but is still dreaming its own bitter-sweet nightmare of destruction.

The "awakening" to the problem of global warming by our ratbag federal government is scandalously late and tragically driven in the wrong direction - purely designed to foster greed, injustices and far too gapping inequalities - and more insolvable problems for future generations to solve, as we prepare to indulge is the nuclear nightmare.

On a planet where sustainability without further destruction, where reduction and mighty readjustment of real needs should prevail, these monsters push for faster and faster expansionism of over-populated want until there will be nothing left but football-fields and concrete slabs everywhere, feeding ourselves with our own crap, directly chemically reprocessed as protein-burgerbangers...

In the meantime more innocent people will have to die in our UnChristian but moralised fight against those trying to stop us looting everywhere or peeing in their backyards, while those who manage to terrorise us are still on the loose.

Yes, the words of our ratted spruiking leaders are cunning, like those of enchanting pipers leading us to death, words of full-blown psychopaths who blame us for all their mistakes, while we get trampled by the growing stampeded of ruthless people wanting more than their share of the loot, unless we join the rush.
And the rotten bastards at the top keep peddling the Christian values they flaunt with impunity...

Sad.

Aspirational Prosperiteeiring has been formulated by the tooters for us to dilute Christian guilt while we are sinning like rabbits on heat, on all fronts.

Lucky me, I'm a committed atheist.

the value of folklore .....

St John and St Peter Story 

St John Howard called St Peter Costello into his office one day and said: "St Peter, my boy, I have a great idea!  We are going to go all out over the Crispness break to win the country voters."

"Good idea, PM, how will we go about it?" said St Peter Costello.

"Well," said St John Howard, "we'll get ourselves one of those Driza Bone coats, some RM Williams boots, a stick and an Akubra hat, a bag full of mince pies, a couple of fake Santa beards, and a Blue Heeler Cattle dog.  Then we'll really look the part.  We'll go to a typical old outback country pub, we'll show them that we're really at home there."

"Right, PM," said St Peter Costello.

On the day before Crispness, all kitted out and with the requisite Blue Heeler, they set off from Canberra in a westerly direction.  Eventually they arrived at just the place they were looking for and found a typical outback pub.  Walked in with the dog and up to the bar.

"G'day mate," said St John Howard, to the bartender, " Merry Crispness, and two middies of your best beer."

"Good afternoon, and Merry Crispness to you, yer Saintship," said the bartender, "two middies of our best coming up".

St John Howard and St Peter Costello stood leaning on the bar drinking their beer and chatting, nodding now and again to those who came into the bar for a drink.

The dog lay quietly at their feet.  All of a sudden, the door from the adjacent bar opened and in came a grizzled old stockman, complete with stockwhip.  He walked up to the Cattle dog, lifted its tail with the whip and looked underneath, shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the other bar.

A few moments later, in came another old stockman with his whip. He walked up to the dog, lifted its tail, looked underneath, scratched his head and went back to the other bar. 

Two minutes later, in staggered the local town Santa Claus, royally pissed, with a big sack of gifts over his arm. He walked up to the dog, lifted it's tail, looked underneath, scratched his white beard and walked out.  Over the course of the next hour or so, another four or five stockmen, assorted transexuals, women drovers, Tamworth country and western singers, the Chinese cook from the kitchen, and a Mother Pauline Hanson supporter, came in, lifted the dog's tail and went away looking puzzled.

Eventually, St John Howard and St Peter Costello could stand it no longer and called the Barman over.

"Tell me my good man," said St John Howard, " I can understand the Mother Pauline Hanson supporter, but why did all those old stockmen come in and look under the dog's tail like that?  Is it an old outback custom?"

"Strewth no!" said the barman.  "It's just that someone went out and told them that there was a cattle dog in this bar with two arseholes!"