Update:1 August 2006: Leggy Israeli spunkers send artillery message: Massive bereavement in Lebanon. This trade union website will be at the forefront of the campaign to have sweet Daniele and her nubile friends, tried in a court of capital jurisdiction, for the unjust slaying of these unknown deceased Lebanese civilians.
Secret war has been waged against white people thus abortion has devastated white populations in Canada, The US, Europe and Australia, immigrants whose allegiance is not to the host nation, but to the foreign culture from which they came, have been brought into those same abortion devastated countries to make up the numbers.
Their countries are ruled by decisiveness and hatred, check the Asians in Sri Lanka the Brits brought them there in the eighteenth century, now they are waging a genocidal war against the host population for their own homeland …Murwillumbah in the Australian heartland, an Asian lady is crossing the road she has two small children with painted faces, there is an aboriginal man with me in the car, stopping at the crossing I have gold teeth and a toothy 24 carat smile is on my face, she scowls… how long will it be before they are waging war for their own homeland here.
Nineties I go into a pub in the Valley there is an African pommy chick behind the bar, I tell her that I am the only man that refused to be a scab on three union jobs, and that trade unionists had been murdered in Brisbane and that a Sunday newspaper had labeled me a union grass after I went to the police regarding threats and the murder of union members. She turned on me in a big way I hear a voice say, …Strike one… In the Brisbane suburb if Annerly I stop at the intersection while an African lady crosses the street a toothy twenty four carat smile …etc, she scowled… I head the same voice say, … Strikke two …On my way to the gym I had been taking the 9.30 am fitness class for a couple weeks, I was feeling good and kindly disposed, an African lady had been on the bus stop for a couple days running, I smile and by God she scowled, the same voice says, …Strikkke three… and niggers are out of my vision from that day to this. In a cross road situation for instance, they stay as black shapes in my peripheral vision… The ones I see on TV and on the internet make me wanna puke.
21 January 2006: …Security camera footage shows a gang of thugs variously described as of Middle Eastern origin numbering about eighty strong, converge upon and batter to death a member of the Australian public on a public thoroughfare, in the Sydney suburb of Cronulla. Lebanese have since posted video on You Tube posing with footage of the attack.
1 Feb 2006 …Three men of Middle Eastern origin sought re brutal and cowardly attack on lone man adjacent to Mosque in Sydney: Want to bet these are from the same gang that murdered the man in the street at Cronulla. When are there gonna be murder charges laid re the Cronulla attack. Speedy the attack leader, easily identified on the Cronulla footage as well as on earlier footage where he attacked a TV newsman outside of a court. Two fat boys at the back in the Cronulla footage they should be easy enough to identify when are they gonna be in court on murder charges.
Up to fifteen Aboriginal teenagers batter to death Hoera Te Kooti aged 61 years on a public thoroughfare Ipswich Queensland 1995. Entire incident recorded on security camera footage. Aboriginal youths going thru the dead man's pockets. One charged none convicted. The way to proceed now is to use that same footage, to identify then prosecute the people that committed this crime. Then since they are of Middle Eastern origin and they aught to be familiar with the death penalty, they can get ready to die.
The State and Federal both failed to prosecute at Ipswich, and at Cronulla.
This union will spearhead a campaign to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law any crime of this nature and will be making a case to the Australian people that the present administration of law allows lawyers prejudice to determine matters that should be tried by jury.
With the result that criminals who would have been executed years before had the law been properly observed back then, now running amok on the streets on the one hand. What has become of the Ipswich fifteen since they murdered Mr Te Kooti, and running the government on the other, Les Smith says Peter Beattie blackmailed him into committing murder. We want the death penalty restored. The great test of the constitutional government in this country will be how they handle the demands this union web site publishes. They failed at state and federal level when we approached them throughout the early 1990's re murder on the docks. They failed again at Ipswich. If they fail to prosecute the Cronulla Eighty using the miserable cowardice demonstrated by the attackers as proof that people like this, if they live on after such an incident become a burden to the community either in jail or killing on the streets.
The Coons in Brisbane
Brisbane 1997: Taxi rank New Farm group of five young aboriginal people decide to jump ahead of me. I tell them do not go thinking they are going to jump the queue and the shit hits the fan, read below how Eric who got smashed went like he was super trashy like a nigger well here we have the same but like five. One slut gets in front another comes up on my right another my rear and two a man and a woman cut me off from the left. Coon to the right... 'look at this cunt ... thinks he's white...' the same coon moll screaming coon nigger filth to my front. My plan is to chop the coon to the right but grab the one behind me from over my head the two at left body language indicates that they are just gonna watch, probably already going over in their minds that their legal team will mitigate them out of serious consequences after I am murdered, just then a police vehicle pulls up opposite the coons melt into the night. Any bets that these were from the same coon gang that murdered Mr Te Kooti.
Genocide is underway in this country check The manpower shortage: Where did it come from? Check the abortion statistics: 300,000 or so abortions per year for thirty or forty years then wonder why there are no people to staff industry. The union's response: Prosecute under the capital provisions of Islamic law.
911: How much bull does George W. think people can absorb ...
...Check the web sites, read the details, look at the video evidence, the official story is at odds with the facts. Was this just a test for even more spectacular outrages? Are they going to nuke the cities? And George is damn right about one thing at least, an act of warfare was perpetrated against the United States on September 11 2001. The United States citizenry is going to have to bite the bullet and make a few tough decisions. Their leaders are making complete fools of them. 911 was an inside job.
Where the hell are the police: porn sites depicting the criminal assault of young people abound on the internet. One sequence, a young female person has surgical sutures inserted in her genitalia...next frame a pair of industrial pliers are inserted in a wound on a young persons genitalia...next frame a number of people are naked around a raised platform upon which is a child with numbers of similar industrial tools inserted in a similar wound, there is an old fuddy duddy dancing nude in the foreground... other frames of young women who appear to have died violently... and people in obvious fear. Links advertising sites with such titles as 'Young Girls Tortured and Killed.' We have a death penalty policy here. So look out y'all web masters the man with the noose is after you.
Cricket is a game that spawns legends… During the 2007 Cricket World Cup in Jamaica, the coach of Pakistan's national team was murdered after the side had put in a more than usually dismal performance… The mainstream press all but named one of their star players for the killing… This story is about another cricket legend, Sir Donald Bradman.
MT meets The Don: Child prostitution and the police, Adelaide 1956 evening: At six years of age both parents introduce one to an Uncle Ian, lined face, forties, no fat anonymous city clothes which seemed to have been worn all day but looked somehow as if they had just come from the drycleaners. They tell me to sit next to him then depart the room, in a flash he tears my lower clothing off and rapes me, gripping my neck grunting and groaning then tosses me, head first shirt up and strides hanging off, onto the floor. Mother comes in he gives her seven quid then disappears, she screams at me to get dressed then asks if I liked it.
At school the teachers want to know how I got the mark on my neck, I tell them how Uncle Ian had hold of me by the neck, they say no that he had bitten me. They get the school counselor I tell him of the rape and about my mother turning me over to an Uncle Max to be flogged, he tells me to punch the next uncle and my father. Soon after on a Saturday afternoon father says to get ready, Donald Bradman was on his way and I would be entertaining him. No way I tell him, father was a Detective in the SA Police he flogs and drags me into the bathroom flogging and bashing me and scrubs me up to meet Bradman, when he arrives he is a shortish stocky powerfully built man with long arms, he is wearing a business suit he could see I had recently been bashed and departed. The next and last uncle was a European who my father had brought home who got smashed in the gob. I talked to a kid during this period who was one of Bradman's victims he said Bradman put him thru hell.
The floggings and bashings continued till in 1959 after school one day my father is choking, flogging, and bashing me, I am beginning to black out and know he is killing me, I land a left to his face and feel a squishing sensation as I land a right to his gob area and kick him, no use blackout. Come around can not move or shake off the blackness, black out again. Just like walking thru a stage curtain I step onto a path, white decomposed granite edged with grey blue stone, the path is undulating between hills of cotton wool texture along comes a man leading a horse, I ask him if he knows where the path leads and he assures me that he does.
I wait for him to move off planning to make my own way when he tells me that he has come for me, I tell him that I have a feeling that I will have to go back, he glances in the direction I came from and tells me I wont be going back, which is great news to me and brightens me up considerably.
I ask if it is his horse and does it have a name, he tells me it is and his name is Bukephalus, after a little more chit chat he lifts me up onto the horse who, he tells me, will take me the rest of the way, before I take off on the horse I remember to ask him his name he says, 'Ah-Leg-Xander,' I ask him to take it slower, he says 'Alexander.' The horse took me slowly at first then at a full gallop, me hanging on to its mane along the path which ceased at a pair of open arched gates framed by the same pearl blue grey stone that had bordered the path. Here the horse indicated I should dismount and galloped back, as he left so too did the path recede, the gates appeared then to be floating in space like the door drifting in space in the TV series The Twilight Zone, the outer view was as for a winter's night the stars of the milky way and the constellation Sagittarius. One star appeared to be moving and resolved into the figure of a man striding along a path similar to the one I had been on, he was middle height aged in his early twenties, with light olive skin and dark hair, he was lightly bearded and had long legs, he was attired similar to Alexander in a home spun smock affair tied at the waist and sandals, Pisces. He draws near and says, ...Martin I'm Jesus.
He gestures with his right hand down and to his right my gaze following his gesture, I see my body on the floor of the bedroom I shared with my brother, my Mother has just walked into the room and seen my body and is screaming the house down, like she is making a performance, shrieking... Jesus says, 'you can stay with me or you can go back...' I tell him, '...I will go back,' then instead of looking at him I am looking at the grey linoleum on the bedroom floor. I am just pushing myself up on to my hands when Mother comes in looks at me says nothing and walks out, then Father comes in, looks and walks out. Things stay about the same, about ten days later both parents get stuck into me Mum urging him on, read above re coons in Brisbane, here was the same coon filth from my Mother urging Father on to batter me at eight years of age.
Later that year Father would present me with the bodies of aborted twins to dispose of in a backyard incinerator, I had spoken up in their favor when Mother had announced she was off to have an abortion. After this flogging I am lying in bed when I hear a voice calling my name I don't answer, again I hear my name called and again I don't answer, then think I should have answered, he calls my name again, I say '...whose that,' he says '...God.' Next night the same voice calls, I say '...you said you were God,' he says '...I am.' This repartee goes on for a while then he asks me if there was anything I wanted to know, I ask him if there is a hell, he says there is then asks if there was anything at all he could do for me, I tell him I would like a guided tour of hell please.
In 1966 three children disappeared from an Adelaide beach. There is a poofter judge from South Australia who likes to cavort naked at the beach. He is my shortest price favorite to be able to shed some light on what happened to the Beaumont children. I reckon that in 1966 he would have been attending law school in Adelaide. In those days university students went for the hippy look, long hair, beads, head bands, leather sandals stuff like that. He would then have fitted the description of a hippy type male person with long blond hair seen cavorting with the children at Glenelg beach Australia Day 1966. The lady who provided that description to the police said she thought this persons attention to the children was unhealthy. Now all the good judge, now on the High Court in Canberra, has to do is provide photographs from that period, to see whether he did look like a hippy at that time and explain what indeed were his movements on 26/1/1966.
I reckon that the reason jolly old Uncle Ian's clothes appeared clean was because the judges or barristers gown he wears all day keeps them that way. Scrutiny of the bar list circa 1956 may perhaps be used to prove his identity. He then may be found to be connected to the beach loving nudist poof judge suspect in the Beaumont case, and since Uncle Ian's and Bradman's connection to the Criminal Investigation Branch of the SA Police thru my father who supplied them each with at least one victim in the person of myself is proved. Headway may yet be made yet re the long list of missing and murdered children from that state. Bradman was a member of The Adelaide Club whose membership also includes large numbers of judges and barristers. See this institution as on the lookout, recruiting suitable persons, political yuppies, or those educated in laws for instance but who are totally without morals, they are groomed for prominent roles in society, as barristers for instance then as their career blossoms either as judges or politicians. See the spectacular rise of Angelo Vasta participant in a similar scheme in Queensland.
Journals 10/2001 P6. Guaranteeing the last thing that they want is the matter of missing children solved since they are culpable in the matter of their deaths. And likewise occupying political office are able to select like minded amoral people for high office in the police or prosecutions department who are rewarded, when they run dead in any investigation that might bring the whole scheme down, by promotion or knighthoods or initiation into the inner sanctum where they can bring a couple of kids along, slay them in a Marquis de Sade style orgy attended by initiates who will be forever compromised thereafter, ensuring any that got cold feet would only be guaranteeing their own murder or likely, theirs and no other prosecution by a well rehearsed system only too well aware of where the kids went. Initiates that pass thereafter get club membership then party preselection and rise up thru and perpetuate the whole system.
See 25/1/ '06 Commissioner Atkinson of the Qld. Police declare there was insufficient evidence to charge one Bob Quinn a gutter Queensland politician re his attempt to bribe another member of the Queensland Parliament, despite her deposition that he had. We contacted Atkinson in 1994 when he was assistant commissioner after zero response from Detectives Nikola, Hepitch, Hitch, Desmond, Shields, Magnussen, Kajewski, Doyle, MacMenamin... re murder and threats on the docks. He laughed out loud. See Quinn then in his role as leader of the Liberal Party in the Queensland Parliament as compromised relying on a corrupt policeman to keep him out of jail while Atkinson relies on Quinn to stay off the subject of police corruption so he can remain Commissioner of Police.
The same way Bradman could rely on his mates at the Adelaide Club to keep his activities out of the papers and out of the courts. 1964 Port Augusta High School, a kid named Darryl Thomas has a buff manila envelope like the government uses. His body language indicate that it has some pretty sordid contents, other kids show a mixed reaction, I go over to see what he's got. It's photographs, the one I see is of an aboriginal girl about eight years old whose body has been severed completely in two, from about her breastbone one side to about her kidney the other side. The other photo's appeared similar and to have been taken with modern, circa 1964 professional photographic equipment in fact looked like official police photographs taken at a crime scene. It is on our agenda to find out more. Snuff porn in Brisbane P4&5 2001 Journal.
Port Adelaide 1975 to '77 working on the docks there and intermittently arrested for drunkenness, see over the period of those years posted inside the door of the counter room at the Port Adelaide watch house, a large scale identikit likeness of a man wanted for abduction of children. Brisbane July 16 1987: Dennis Raymond Ferguson is arrested at a Brisbane motel naked with vaseline on his body, in company with a girl six and her two brothers aged seven and eight years. A jury finds him guilty of a total of thirteen charges including child stealing, indecently dealing with children and gross indecency. He and another man had traveled from Sydney to Brisbane with the children without their mothers knowledge or consent. In '88, when one saw the TV footage of him being led from the court, one immediately recognized him from the identikit in the Port Adelaide watch house.
On February 16 1989 The Adelaide Advertiser states that Detective Nikola of the Qld police had been contacted by someone who claimed to have recognized a suspect in a missing child investigation from an identikit picture he had seen years before, a Detective Tom Ferguson from the SA major crime squad said he was sceptical. I contacted Nikola in '94 and told him I wanted to say in court that Bob Foreman admitted guilt in my presence over a number of years and on numerous occasions to raping and murdering Judith and Susan. Nikola did not even bat an eyelid. The Advertiser story then became convoluted, as did the SA side of the effort when we contacted them in '02 after Ferguson was released and again on TV, and again I recognized him as I had in '88 when he was sentenced, as the man in the Port Adelaide identikit. We say that whoever contacted Nikola in '89 had, like we had connected Ferguson with the aforementioned identikit. And Detective Ferguson in Adelaide who knows full well what is going on, using his hard worked copper act to keep the truth from coming out protecting a child murder operation with its roots in the Adelaide Club. We will keep working on this story.
The Death Penalty brutal and tragic though it may seem is all that protects people from those who would murder them or frame them for murder to protect a guilty party. 1999 The Queensland prosecutor says he is to prosecute a Mister Brown in Townsville re the Murder of Judith and Susan Mackay aged five and seven years raped and murdered in 1970. We had been to the police since 1993 re this matter and told them Bob Foreman was constant in his boasting that he and no other had committed this crime. Mr Brown's solicitor was a woman named Lisa Macnamara we contacted her in '99, she told us she can not see any way round the problem, since Bob Foreman's name is not Bob Foreman and we do not know what his right name is, we obviously are unable to proceed.
That is corrupt and should be enough to hang her. We had told her it was the name he used at work and had been the name he used as a professional boxer, that he does not deny that both he and his car were at the crime scene the day the children died and that he fits the description of a man seen talking to the girls at the school bus stop on the morning of the day they disappeared. Nevertheless as she insisted brusquely and with superb woman's logic, she would be unable to proceed further on that point, and hung up the phone. The jury in Mr Brown's trial threw the crown case out finding him not guilty, after a petrol station attendant who saw the girls crying in a car the day they disappeared in company with a man who stopped to get fuel, positively stated that Mr Brown was not the driver.
The taint of racism, scabbing and murder goes with maligning or using prejudice against an operation seeking justice re the murder of trade unionists. Read the handbill at left: A seconder is still required for this motion re the debate re the BLF response to the scabbing that took place at Bell's yard in 1996 and response to the request from the Painters and Dockers Union for assistance demanding government action re murder on the docks.
In similar manner. Scabs were not the only forces arraigned against painters and dockers. Just as ghosts on the docks payroll needed high level connivance from employers so to does high level scabbing in the BLF. Those employers named above and the movers and shakers at the BLF like scabs, organizer Puplett, Secretary Simcoe and Greg Moxham who laughed out loud, can come along to the coroners court and explain their reasons for the summary dismissals that took place and the union attitude. Responses we say are linked to terrorism, racism and murder in the industrial workplace.
The Seoul Supermarket Incident …Wickham St Fortitude Valley, as one enters the mart the guy behind the counter has a double take and says '...no...no ...no.' …One had been going there for some years to purchase Royal Jelly which is made by bees, taken for aches and pains. One sees the item, a bottle of thirty capsules in an open pack, the Korean guy is going '...no... no... no-ooo...' one says 'yes... yes... yes...', this shop had changed hands in the five months or so since I had been there, one takes the item, a sign in Korean gave the two pricing options one for the pack of 12 x 30 caps the other for 1 x 30 caps $8.40 or so. One tends $10 to the Korean who gets up from behind the counter, charges into one with a shoulder bump, has a look at where the caps had come from and screams out that one can only purchase a 12 x 30 pack not 1 x 30.
One directs his attention to the opened twelve pack with at least one 30 pack missing already, tells the prick to be careful who he bumps into, and tells him that I want 1 x 30 as per the sign. With that he charges me again, full hip and shoulder this time, on his way to get back behind the counter. I had suffered two physical assaults from this Korean Shopkeeper a stern response was required. I placed a straight arm bar across his throat while at the same time rushing him toward and locking his head against a wall. He was a big guy for an Asian a lot bigger and younger than me, which made it imperative that I gain and exploit the upper hand, closing upon his neck with my teeth I allow both sets upper and lower to scrape along and come together with a clacking noise about where his carotid artery is located some millimeters below the skin. He goes off his head, he shrieks in the Korean language to another guy behind the counter who throws him a set of keys and he bounds to the door and locks it with me on the inside. He is still screaming and the other guy takes off in the direction of a back room. I expect his imminent return with a chopping cutting implement, and tossing the capsules onto the counter put the $10 away.
First making sure that no passers by were in danger I kick the upper portion of the glass door which he had locked, the glass shattered into about a million pieces but stayed in place, again checking that no civilians would be injured I kicked it once more, the glass popped out and fell to the pavement . I stepped over the middle partition into Wickham Street and was immediately arrested by a concerned citizen whose father I had worked with on the docks whose name was Brian Fitzgerald. Thus citizens arrested I and Fitzgerald minor, who had been in my home as a guest about twenty years before accompanied by Bobby Stewart who raised him at least in part after Brian had died, made our way to the police post in the Valley, the shopman the third member of our party bringing up the rear. I tell the police what had occurred, only gloss over a little re my teeth to his neck. The copper tells me to cool my heels in a vacant office with a telephone and returns about a half hour later and tells me to hop it that they were busy and I as 'free as a bird,' the shopkeeper had illegally imprisoned me and had assaulted me. Nor is racism confined to the Brisbane region.
North Queensland July 1988, employed at Mackay Slipway working on the Hay Point tugs, me and Bobby Lawson are walking to work along an esplanade that leads up to the slipway, a black guy is fishing from the seawall, his wife and child seated in a car parked beside him. Bobby Lawson is a Townsville man and was state president of the P&D's from 1984 until about '87 he was a popular president whose kindness and good manners were legion. As we draw abreast of the guy that was fishing Bobby says 'how are you going Mate' the filthy black cunt dropped his trousers and exposed his black arse. More shit from a Mackay black at Newlands mine in '96 the truck driver asked me to accompany him to Mackay we would be leaving early on the day I had off due to changing shift. It would give me something to do on my day off and since I had asked him prior about driving some of the gear, I would be able to drive the semi trailer into town and he would then drive back with the load on.
We were working for Eagle Engineering a Gladstone based firm doing a shut down on a dragline at Newlands Coal Mine. I turn up early for the trip into Mackay, adjacent to where the truck was parked a party was in progress the undesirable trash element were partying on. This element was at war with the rest of the community with loud drunken parties attended by thug trash, this trash element was at that time terrorising the truckie. One particularly revolting creep an aboriginal from Mackay was sledging and abusing us, the driver had had to go and change his shirt already, someone had smeared blackjack, which is heavy grease used on the moving parts of a dragline, all over his seat and on the trucks steering wheel. When we made our way out of the truck park this same creep throws a rolled up wad of rubbish at the truck it hits the window my side. We go into Mackay pick up the load return with no incident. Afternoon shift the following day…
Chicken Lauder the boss at Eagle says, as we turn up for work... 'don't go on the job boys, Johnny wants to talk to you all.' Johnny was the welding foreman, he had kept the day shift there he told us so we could all hear what he had to say. He sounded something like this... 'Now listen up... since we've been here there has been nothing but shit, on the job...' Johnny was about forty years old, he was lean and dehydrated and his face was black from soot after welding all day, he wore hard toe Red Wing boots and his jeans were faded, his belt buckle attested to decades in the industry, while his check shirt evoked images of Steve McQueen in The Bounty Hunter, hard hat and mine issue sunglasses completed the picture, he was laying down the law in a big way... 'and in the camp now I'm fuggin sick of it... If you want to fuggin play.. or if you want to fuggin play fuggin games well I'm the gamest cunt here... if any of you all want to fuck about well the way to do that is to fight... now if you all have got any guts... or if all you are is a mob of cunts... the way to find that out is to fight... any more shit or any more crap or if any cunt reckons he is good enough... then fight...' this went on for a while then Johnny hops into his ute and off he goes.
Chicken tells us to go onto the job and he gives one the task of using degreaser to clean a bull gear, part of the propel mechanism of the dragline. I am doing that for a while when along comes Eric the dude that threw the wad of trash at the truck the previous morning. I tell him he does not want to go throwing things, he gets super nigger trashy says what the fuck I tell him I am an expert in throwing my knuckles around and did he want to try throwing something now he advances and I belt the him right in the mouth, he has his guard up so instead of following up with another fist to the head I give him a backhander then get him in a headlock, he is struggling hard and I don't want to chance him wriggling free so I kick his legs out from under him seeing to it that his head is rubbed hard against the teeth of the bull gear going down and my weight prevents him getting his balance as I drive his face hard into the ground where the blackjack and degreaser have pooled. He is trying to breathe but is only filling his lungs with dirt. Chicken Lauder is screaming... 'let him go Martin let him go...' I don't let him go so a giant Kiwi rigger picks both me and him up then I let him go. Then I raised my arm. That's how I dealt with an uppity blackfella at Newlands Mine.
Racism and strife at Incitec: 1998 Mincon get in touch I had worked for them previously on a dragline shutdown at Meandu Mine in 1987. That job they put us up at Kingaroy, after the boss paid the bill at the motel he tells everyone that all the work gang had accessed the pornographic movie on the in house TV except one... 'stand up Martin.' This time we would be at Incitec a plant which produces fertilizer from natural gas. The start date was on Thursday however since I was a new starter I would be required to attend a two hour induction at the plant training centre on the Tuesday. The job started all right the Mincon supervisor was Wayne Johnston who had played centre for Carlton in the 1980's. I had only briefly met him at Meandu the previous year, and was tickled pink to be working with him. The day we started he drove me to the car park I had taken my tools onto the job but found they were not necessary, during the drive I told him I was a footy fan and had been a fan of his, he said he had a great time playing footy he hoped the job went well, gave me his telephone number said to ring if there were any problems and we parted with a good understanding. Come payday I had not been paid the two hours pay for the induction thus at twenty five an hour I was fifty bucks down on my pay. I was at home when I discovered the discrepancy and rang Tom the Mincon paymaster.
He was drunk and ill mannered and entirely unhelpful. At work the following day I see Ian Baxter who started with me and who attended the same induction, I asked him if he had been paid the two hours. He said that he had not but did not wish to make an issue of it. I ring Wayne Johnston he was full of shit he had undergone a personality change of Jeckle and Hyde proportions. I had already checked with Incitec staff who simply said no drama, the situation had existed from the year dot all Mincon had to do was include the induction payment on the bill. I tell this to Johnston he goes off his fukkin head starts... 'who the fuck do you think you are, the shop steward or something...' I tell the prick he needs to get the money ...blah blah blah.
It's smoko by then, in the smoko room Ian Baxter starts up. He comes up with a bodgey Aboriginal accent now, although I may appear to some Australians as European, I appear to others as aboriginal particularly when I am heavily bearded as I was at that time. And I am not gonna let my poor old grandpa who died in Battery Point Hobart Town down. He assured me in 1955 that both he and me were of the Tasmanian aboriginal people, mothers father appeared to be a mainland aboriginal from South Australia her mother was from Scotland. Truth is that I am of mixed race, like Jesus Christ. So there's Ian referring to my choice of western style clothing going... 'is that a western style shirt...' just a hint of the word boy... 'you been out west b...' snorts are coming from around the table '...they got rodeos out there right...' just the start of sniggering.
I would have reminded him that there are boxing tents as well, but it had gone beyond that, he was rocking back on his chair at the end of the table and was laying hard down on good ol' me. After Uncle Ian got to me, the school counselor told me to punch my father, I failed to, I punched the European who tried to molest me but not my father. He too would rock back on his chair at the table likewise to a chorus of snorts and chuckles, abusing me. I did not want to make the same mistake here. I rise from my seat and belt him under his open gob with my left following up immediately with a right to the side of his head, he is knocked off of his chair to the floor and gets up fighting, he's half way up and I land a left to his cheekbone providing him with a depressed fracture and leaving a dent in his face which he will take to the grave. There is no more fight in him so I resume my seat to finish smoko. I get the sack of course, he doesn't as security are escorting me to the gate I see the prick coming out of the canteen and belt him again.
Murder and Disappearance in the Antipodes… The Cases of Goldsmith, Ulz and The Mature Biker
The disappearance of Steven Goldsmith: The police told me to get out of Police HQ when I tried to report a sighting, this is the link,
The criteria for being labeled a scab insofar as this union is concerned is to have been a member of the Queensland Branch on 15 or 18 July 1991. Or to malign the present union justice campaign re the murder of around sixty of our members, or be a former member who returned to work on the Brisbane waterfront anytime without a P&D union ticket.
But does not include workers who had the rug pulled from under them when this union was deregistered forcing them to resume work on sites that were hitherto unionised as per our award but now pay only the minimum wage: Brisbane Slipways operate a drum and cable slipway within the Cairncross Dockyard Industrial Precinct which caters to vessels to 2,000 tonnes GRT, is a perfect case in point, as of June 2004 the pay for a casual employee carrying out abrasive blasting was $15.40 per hour. The union rates, which prevailed on that site since its construction in 1972 until the entire precinct was deunionised finally and under extreme duress in 1993, were as of '04 about $27.00 for casuals and around $22.00 for permanent employees.
Nor does it include any person employed in the industry who objects to becoming a member of a trade union. The Painters and Dockers Union does not support compulsory union membership and endorses persons rights to remain exempt from union activity, while at the same time not excluding any persons involvement in on site affairs or in on site employees meetings, unlike union meetings which take place off site.
Wanker runs school for scabs in Gove, Tia Dargaville, one of three scab brothers, introduced himself in Gove when he told me in the crib room at lunch time, I had been on the job about four days, that he thought all Aussies were cowards, he's mumbling this shit for a while then starts mumbling '...bring it on.' Earlier that day on the way back to the scaff yard Benny Ratahi had stuck his finger up his nose produced a fair sized lump of black shit held it under my nose then after about twenty seconds asks '...what do you think of that.' Working out on the wharf I find a fishing reel and some bait, I bait up and throw in ten minutes later I check the line, no fish and still baited, a Mouri bloke one of the crew men on the tugs comes up tells me that I am out there to work, not to go fishing. '... yeah righto mate' I tell him, presently Tony Williams the team leader arrives and gets up me for fishing. I know that I am among scabs thugs and dogs. In about June I am elected co-delegate and attend with Dana the delegate, a combined union meeting comprising the maintenance staff as well as construction personnel on the G3 expansion then underway.
The issue was a detectable level of mercury had produced a spike in a test reading. The test had been conducted some weeks before, had been restricted to one only water cooler on site and the matter had been rectified, likewise weeks before and was for all intents and purposes ancient history. The matter became an issue when someone scrutinized the report sheet that is issued from time to time on site and decided that mileage may be made over the fact that no alarm had been sent when the spike was discovered, so here we were in a combined meeting. Listening to debate ... 'we are not taking this shit... they can fly the water in from Darwin...' this crap goes on for a while then I put my two bob's worth in. I tell them not to panic, there is nothing wrong with the water there never was, on a bauxite site mercury contamination exists throughout the whole site, the fact that a mercury spike showed up in test data indicated a bit of dust or something had got into the system.
That the hospital had taken no extra measures, neither had the aboriginal community, at this point heckling and slander had broken out a Mouri guy in the crowd starts screaming '... whose this cunt...' at this point I tell him that I am not a cunt and for him to address me that way rendered him liable to getting smashed in the mouth, he says '...wha... what the fuck...' read above about Eric at Newlands Mine and the coons in Brisbane, same shit different day, he says '... you're an old man, you're not worth bashing,' I say '...hop up here we'll see who is an old man.' We have a day and a half off, the dispute had no merits and was a power play by the meeting's organizers. Up until this time the major drama apart from racism on site consisted of smoking in the twin cab company vehicles used on site. As an employees elected representative the most requests I got were from workers who were made ill constantly day after day and in response to the same persons smoking in the vehicles.
I told them at duly constituted employees meetings: It was against Civil Law, company policy, and site rules and the union policy was that any departure from site rules constituted a breach, thus anyone sacked, reprimanded, disciplined, or served notice as a result of smoking in a non smoking area had no case at all. Month after month the same ones did not care about anything, their mates going home crook after breathing smoke in a twin cab all day. I try to get the safety officer on side, about all I knew about him was his chortling and chuckling when he showed photographs of deceased workmates which are included in incident reports when a fatality occurs in the industry. Re smoking he said it was OK provided there were no non smokers in the vehicle, the supervisors approach, he was a Dutchman was the same. During this debate a black guy from Mackay in Queensland spat a big blob of slag out of his mouth just where I would have to put my foot when I got out of the vehicle, the next day he was rude to me so I warned him about his manners. Someone else said it was only courtesy that you did not smoke when there are non smokers in the truck, I say that courtesy consisted of not farting in the truck, site rules on the other hand were concerned with smoking.
This debate raged in October my two workmates Darryl Russell and Joe Guzara turned on me at work, Joe threatened me with a hammer then went berserk attacking a scaffolding wedge all the time frothing at the mouth, he's fukkin stone mad. The other turd had asked me what his leave entitlements were, his mother in law was in an old peoples home in Port Augusta a new wing was being built just where her bed was. She'd taken a bit of a turn, he told me and was he able to get leave. I reckon he went down and finished her off. This prick like Joe, different personality every day. Next gang first day Daniel Macintyre lights up in the cab. I tell him he is not allowed to smoke in the vehicle he says '...says who.' I tell the Dutch super that his duty of care to provide me with a safe working place has not been met and in that case I will be leaving the site. Off site I ring the union talk to Frank Chambers who says Marina Williams State Secretary will be in Gove later that day and will be on site the following day.
He agrees with me that the situation at Kaefer Scaffolding was scabbing and was critical. Marina Williams tells me on the phone 1 November 2005 that I was correct to make a stand re smoking, and that the smokers were scabs, is aghast re the Safety Officer's and the Supervisor's assertion that smoking was OK in vehicles except if there were non smokers... assures me that she will ring Brian Keenan the head man at Kaefer, insist that site safety rules are obeyed, and see to it that I was paid for the time I was off the job since it was a safety issue. She says she will be on site the next day and she will see me then. That day Rod Welsh the scab leading hand from the previous day says I wont be working with him and he will smoke just when and where he feels like it. Pete Dargaville whose brother reckons all Aussies are cowards tells me that he wont be working with me, another scab who I have taken a collection up for, $ 651.00 plus card since I had seen him he had lost his possessions in a house fire, is giving me the cold shoulder. A few months before he had been full of shit on the job making one wait for him while he went through a bonding session with one of his bum buddy scab mates. I pull him up about it he tells me to get over it, and undergoes a personality change when I challenge him. Says he thought putting shit on me was OK since he thought I was a space cadet.
I do not know what a space cadet is but I know Gus Brooker is a scab. Marina Williams had not got in touch with Brian Keenan the boss as she said she would, I ring the union Frank tells me to stay cool, Marina was gonna be on the job later that day, she had already endorsed the stand I took as delegate, had assured both he and I that we were right and she would remedy things ASAP. A good man at work tells me that he wants to work with me, he walked one hundred and ninety kilometers after his car broke down four years before, and had backed up with a ninety K walk a few months before I met him, he had given his shirt to his mate who was barefooted to put on his feet. Other good men concur... so I stay there all day, despite there being scabs on the job, the wanker who ran the place a morbidly obese man, so named because the only time you would see him on site was when he was heading to the latrines, penthouse magazine in hand for his daily wank, has the temerity at the end of the day to hand me a notice saying I had left the site the previous day without going thru the disputes resolution procedure outlined in the workplace agreement. Now there's a wanker for you, this dispute had been going for months.
I tell him I will be guided by the union response, and not to expect me back until he has sorted out the matter of scabs on the job. I ring Marina Williams she has had a personality change says she knows of no place where the union forbids smoking in vehicles, I tell her union policy is that site rules are obeyed, that I will not be going onto the site while there are scabs on the job which does not mean, as I succinctly tell her that I am demanding any persons dismissal, just in case the wanker reckons I am. An apology for being scabs will do as long as a commitment is received from all scabs that is all who just go ahead and light up that their ways are changed, she makes a sort of a snorting animal sound becomes intelligible and is gone from the phone. Next day Shane Cotton the wanker rings, tells me he wants me back at work I tell him to ring back when he has sorted out the matter of scabs at work. Brian Keenan rings the same thing, I tell him I will go back when he can guarantee a smoke free workplace as is guaranteed under the terms of my hire, and that I wont be working while there are scabs on the job.
That afternoon Marina Williams returns my calls, she tells me I will have to provide a written statement...etc read above about Lisa Macnamara's input re a double murder investigation. Here was the same feminine logic. One problem honey, reticence in a scab affair from a trade union official is scabbing just as reticence in a murder investigation by a lawyer is prosecuted as conspiracy, I tell her that. I know my job is gone, I ring Cotton tell him I want to return to work the next day I want to convene a meeting etc he says no. There's scabs for you Geoff Hoani is the new and scab delegate he was a scab the day he came onto the job smoking in the vehicles and a scab the day I left it.
Editorial How much stress can the organism that is human culture stand. How much genocide or racism or bull. John Howard led Australian participation in the invasion of two sovereign states on false premises, we approached him in 1993 he was shadow Minister for Industrial relations. We had told him thru Tony Blair, yes the Tony Blair, that murderous scab elements were in the process of hijacking the electoral process in the union. He would not speak to us and hung up. Mr Blair told us that Sir Peter Abells was the Mister Big in Australian crime. Abells was Bob Hawke's best mate while Hawke was Prime Minister from 1982 until about '92. Hawke and another one of his ratbag mates Paul Keating brought in and ratified The Australian Industrial Relations Act 1988.
Murder was committed in The Painters and Dockers Union to endorse union response to this act of parliament.
ARISE IN REBELLION.