Guest Post: Cassie of Sydney – I have a dream

The Angelus, Jean-François Millet, 1857-59

I’m frequently told by people who know me well that I’m far too pessimistic and melancholic about the state of the west and particularly about Australia. Tuesday was another depressing day, actually it has been a depressing week. First was the news last week that Gavin Newsom won the California gubernatorial recall vote, despite his administration’s gross incompetence, despite California’s soaring energy prices and despite California’s soaring crime.  California, the state of Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan, is now a state where a biological male with a history of predatory sexual crimes and indecent exposure can legally enter a female only space in a spa, take off his clothes and walk around with an erect penis in front of women and young girls, all because he “identifies” as female.  That folks, is progressivism to a tee.   

And then the news came in this week that soy boy pin up and all-round joke, Justin Castro Trudeau, won the Canadian election, well perhaps “won” isn’t the right word. Trudeau will be able to cobble together yet another minority government, which is ironic considering he called an early election in the middle of a pandemic in a vain attempt to win a majority. His vanity election has backfired, there’s virtually no difference between the election result today and the election result in 2019.  However, despite five years of corruption, gross incompetence, embarrassing stunts, race hustling, attacks on people’s liberties, Covid mismanagement, Trudeau’s Liberals still beat the Canadian conservatives by at least thirty seats. Nobody should be surprised by this result, the Canadian Conservatives are spineless, akin to vanilla essence, they’re on a par with our own spineless Liberals and, despite the disenchantment with Trudeau, the Conservatives made no dent whatsoever in Trudeau’s majority of seats. It was an inevitable result when, instead of fighting your political and ideological opponents, you blandly imitate them, be it on Covid, culture wars, free speech, immigration and so on.  So, the likelihood is that the Conservative party of Canada will be doomed to years in opposition, much like our own Victorian and QLD Liberals here in Oz are.  As for the Western Australian Liberals, well, they’ll be in opposition for decades so there’s no need to think about them for a very long time. In an act of political suicide, the WA Liberals willingly and happily relinquished any attempt to responsible opposition and government with their vanity project of Zac Cockup and his far-left green policy platform which made Maniac McClown and his Labor government look responsible. 

Whilst the protests in Melbourne have provided me with some good cheer, as usual the Liberals and their new leader, or should that be their old leader, Matthew Groundhog Guy, are missing in action. The failure by the Liberals to make any political capital out of the events of the last few days shows just how utterly useless they are. But why am I surprised…this was all so predictable.  No wonder Dicktator Dan crows every day.      

Still, I can dream.  I have a dream that one day I’ll see and hear right of centre politicians and governments willing to stand up to oppose and fight the progressive left, I have a dream that one day I’ll see and hear right of centre politicians and governments willing to stand up and promote conservative and libertarian values such as religious freedom, individual liberty, fiscal responsibility, small and medium sized businesses and all those forgotten people who every day are smeared as far-right, Nazis and white supremacists by progressive scum on the left, on social media sewers and in the MSM. 

But then the dream is over, and I wake up to the gruesome reality of Scott Morrison, of Gladys Berejiklian, of Matthew Guy, of John Barilaro, of Barnaby Joyce, of Matt Kean, of David Crisafulli and all the other mediocrities that infest our right of centre political parties in this country.   

I know, I know I’m naïve but it’s still nice to dream and I’m not going to stop dreaming. 

23 thoughts on “Guest Post: Cassie of Sydney – I have a dream”

  1. Sadly, MLK would be as despairing of the dystopian nightmare the western world has become and how they have not just abandoned his most ebullient dream but shredded and cremated at full throat the very ideals he sought to champion.

    His little children, that he spoke of on that magnificent day, what must they now make of their fathers shattered legacy of hope?


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  2. Two things stand out for me with this mess: (1) The revulsion the sneering media class have for the average Aussie is not even being hidden or toned down now, and (2) the absence of mature leadership or representation on ANY level (social, community, sporting, religious) to mediate, initiate rational debate, or make alternative proposals.


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  3. Cheer up.

    Balsonaro went to the UN unvaxxed, unmasked mostly, and told them to go f’ themselves. Meanwhile, his health minister was snapped giving protesters the (double-handed) finger from a bus window.

    There’s hope yet.


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  4. Dear Cassie,
    The only, only hope is Donald Trump in 2024. There is no other hope.
    Republican control of Congress in 2022 will be a necessary and admirable step, but not sufficient.


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  5. Cassie:
    I’ve walked through many graveyards in my career as a remote area nurse. A lot of them were entire families starting with the youngest. Can anyone imagine sitting around the kitchen table after the graveside burial with dad, mum, and the remaining kids – just waiting for the next barking cough?
    My heart goes out to these young men and women – watching their dreams cough their hearts out.
    I can understand their anguish as they lay their children to rest due to the vagaries of nature.
    This is a gamble we all take as we watch our newborns take their first breaths.
    But this is not about our newborns.
    This is about our ‘tweenies’ desperately seeking guidance as they look for a pathway to adulthood or a life of empty self indulgence.
    Fuck.
    I’m drunk and have no way out.


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  6. I don’t like to belabour a point but can any man here imagine sitting around a guttering candle with your wife and kids, having to put your youngest into a grave, knowing the rest of the family are quite likely going to follow the child?
    Could you look into the eyes of your wife, scarcely into her 20’s and having buried her first born with the prospect of burying the next two?

    We’ve seen nothing.

    Sorry.
    I’m drunk and watched this movie too many times.


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  7. Please do not use the word ‘progressive’ when referring to leftists.
    They are ‘regressives’ and should be referred to as such.
    Same as the American use of the word ‘liberal’ when they mean ‘socialist’.
    Do not give them the dignity they absolutely don’t deserve.


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  8. You’re definitely going to be hearing more from alleged political conservatives but it’s more likely to be “no, please don’t. Klaus was blackmailing me so I had to.”


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  9. The Drover’s Wife — I’ve been thinking about the Drover’s Wife in these days of turmoil particularly these few passages: Regressive feminazis referrin to trail-blazers like Juliar Gillard – make me nauseous:

    … Her husband is an Australian, and so is she. He is careless, but a good enough husband. If he had the means he would take her to the city and keep her there like a princess. They are used to being apart, or at least she is. “No use fretting,” she says. He may forget sometimes that he is married; but if he has a good cheque when he comes back he will give most of it to her. When he had money he took her to the city several times – hired a railway sleeping compartment, and put up at the best hotels. He also bought her a buggy, but they had to sacrifice that along with the rest.

    The last two children were born in the bush – one while her husband was bringing a drunken doctor, by force, to attend to her. She was alone on this occasion, and very weak. She had been ill with fever. She prayed to God to send her assistance. God sent Black Mary – the “whitest” gin in all the land. Or, at least, God sent King Jimmy first, and he sent Black Mary. He put his black face round the door post, took in the situation at a glance, and said cheerfully: “All right, missus – I bring my old woman, she down along a creek.”

    One of the children died while she was here alone. She rode nineteen miles for assistance, carrying the dead child.

    It must be near one or two o’clock. The fire is burning low. Alligator lies with his head resting on his paws, and watches the wall. He is not a very beautiful dog, and the light shows numerous old wounds where the hair will not grow. He is afraid of nothing on the face of the earth or under it. He will tackle a bullock as readily as he will tackle a flea. He hates all other dogs – except kangaroo-dogs – and has a marked dislike to friends or relations of the family. They seldom call, however. He sometimes makes friends with strangers. He hates snakes and has killed many, but he will be bitten some day and die; most snake-dogs end that way.

    Now and then the bushwoman lays down her work and watches, and listens, and thinks. She thinks of things in her own life, for there is little else to think about.



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