He did not like strangers being brought in on the case, muddying the water.
He has standing. In a court perhaps, but this is not a court.
The enemy within.
We have to ask ourselves, what are we fighting for? To protect what?
Counter terror officers.
What kind of society is this?
Stasi. Stasi. Stasi Australia.
The woman is weeping. The question is why.
He is not a stranger.
He walks among us.
Among the mortals.
Let me introduce you.
Great Rugby Union Game.
We used the analogy.
Within the gates. Inside the castle walls.
What were we fighting for?
Trapped within.
She slipped at netball. My daughter. A dreaming parent. Naturally concerned.
The neighbourhood policeman, a fit, handsome, newly married fellow, liked to sleep naked. If not him, another.
Apart from sex, there was nothing the policeman was more obsessed with than locking people up. Throw away the key. And the drama of the court. Presenting of evidence.
He and his colleagues were on the side of good. Or so he strenuously believed.
Around him the society was collapsing. There was plenty of fodder, no shortage of work.
All the contemporary scourges played themselves out in individual mayhem.
There wasn't time to be sad.
But there they were then, arguing putrid things.
Old Alex tried to talk, it was beyond him. A million reasons why. The torch burning.
"I struggle to understand sometimes."
What to understand? The Enemy Is Within. A Jesuit cabal pulls the levers of power. They have surrendered to demons, possessed. The spirits they acquired at the alter. In the dorms. At their master's knees.
You think these things are not real? You are naive.
They prepare the path for their brothers, as the Pope had just called the Rohingya, the Muslim minority in Burma, sometimes described as the most persecuted people on Earth.
Speaking to pilgrims and tourists in St. Peter’s Square following the Angelus prayer, the Holy Father said, “Sad news has reached us of the persecution of our Rohingya brothers and sisters, a religious minority. I would like to express my full closeness to them – and let all of us ask the Lord to save them, and to raise up men and women of good will to help them, who shall give them their full rights.”
The Soldiers of God. The Jesuits.
There was always a back story.
Duplicity was entirely to the fore.
The public were never told the true story, of the God of the Early Church. A cruel God.
His disciples preparing the way for the purer god of the Islamic faith. The One True God, as they so fervently believed.
Where were the voices raised in condemnation of the slaughter and displacement of of hundreds of thousands Christians across the Middle East. Their stoning. Their crucifixion. In the village square. Dragged to their death behind cars. The ransacking of their churches. The destruction of their way of life. Lord, why hast thou forsaken them? Those who believed in your mercy.
The conquered. The conquerors. Historic injustices. Displaced persons.
But who was displacing who?
Every Social Justice Warrior advocated the replacing of one person with another.
The chosen victim of the day.
Vast bureaucratic edifices supporting the revolution of society. The remaking of the mass.
The Australian media landscape is so blatantly and heavily manipulated by various parties, that no one can take it seriously.
Operation Mockingbird, the CIA program to influence the mainstream media, has been clearly functioning well in Australia.
It is a matter of pattern detection, one of the skills which humans are particularly skilled at.
It is obvious in the media of 2017 that the impulses that once drove journalists, story telling, social justice, inquiry, rigorous inquiry, the beauty of the chase, a conviction that the truth would out, have all been abandoned.
Clear as day.
The puppet masters. The comic books of the Left. The comic books of the Right. The screen queens.
In the course of his lifetime, a noble profession had been sublimated, transformed into a machine of propaganda either for the deep state, which is clearly of the left, or of sectional interests, which are of the right.
Now the very idea that there had once been nobility in a chaotic profession was laughable.
They combine to destroy the narrative of the country.
We think of ourselves as human.
Oh really?
Spin another one., Across time. Across space. On a mission. Sent. A particle. A part of a whole. A plaything of destiny. All these things. A wind on high.
When I came across this guy.
He looked down across a sleeping suburb and the inhabitants usually quiet dreams, unquiet now as horizons blinkered with black lightning and the comforts of their world drained away.
A desperate Turnbull re-announced the Snowy Mountain scheme.
It's a romantic story, he said.
Liar in Chief, Old Alex spat contemptuously. Like the rest of the country, he had lost any shred of respect long ago.
A failed Prime Minister. It was delicious to watch.
If only Il Duce had chosen another kingdom to destroy.
"His colleagues thought he was successful because he was rich," an informant told him. "They never asked how he made his money, distressed housing in America, all the sleazy deals."
How could they be so stupid?
So poorly advised, that's what amazed Old Alex, from a technical point of view, watching as the Prime Minister drowned in an electoral, media saturated mess of his own making.
"No, he's not," came another old mentor's riposte. "As far as he's concerned he's got the best adviser in the world, himself."
They laughed the short laugh of old men; for all they had known was in decay, and not just their own bodies.
The promised land was farther away than ever.
A spiritual nirvana out of reach.
The progress of the species, to which they had thought they were contributing, gone.
Even in the winter sun, young families played on the seashore. Interconnected. A future borne anew everyday.
But he was part of no land. Eradicated, his kind, not their works but their true nature, from Google, as the plasticity of history made it so easily capable of being rewritten.
Statues toppled across the West. The past, the story of the victors, was to be eradicated.
One dominatrix replaced another.
They walked among us. We were not to know.
"Welcome to my world," despaired one Watcher on the Watch as he welcomed a new colleague.
There were short, contemporary laughs wherever you looked. Not a doomed race, but a different race.
They were coming into their own.
Across a black sea, the lights of a fishing boat.
THE BIGGER STORY:
LEIGH Sales has applied the blowtorch to Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull and his achievements in government in a heated and combative interview on the ABC.Mr Turnbull appeared on ABC TV’s flagship current affairs program 7.30 to be grilled by Ms Sales on everything from what he has done in his two years as PM, to the dual citizenship saga, to the energy crisis.
And things didn’t begin well when the host suggested the Liberal Party had lacked a “signature achievement” in Mr Turnbull’s time as the nation’s leader.
“How is it possible that in all of that time you’ve not yet managed to have a signature achievement?” she asked, kicking off the interview with a bang.
Mr Turnbull took umbrage at that and began to list his work on the Gonski education reforms, restoring the Building and Construction Commission, childcare reforms, the Snowy Hydro scheme and federal intervention in the gas market.
“My signature achievement is ensuring that Australians have got the opportunities to realise their dreams,” Mr Turnbull said.
That’s when Ms Sales turned up the heat even more.
BERKELEY, Calif. — Thousands of counterprotesters took to the streets of Berkeley Sunday where they clashed with a handful of President Donald Trump supporters, leading to several violent clashes and at least 14 arrests.
The mostly peaceful demonstration started heating up about noon at Martin Luther King Civic Center Park, where the two rival groups faced off and several fights broke out.
Counterdemonstrators vastly outnumbered the president’s supporters. They surrounded their rivals and chanted, “No Trump, no KKK, no fascist USA!”