Adam Piggott

There’s a publication called the Journal of Vascular Surgery. I like to peruse its contents while perched on the thunder box. Helps to get the juices flowing, if you get my drift. Helps with blockages. Takes all types.

Recently the good journal made a statement that female doctors should demur from posting selfies wearing bikinis and consuming alcohol as this may well detract from their professional image and cause patients to seek advice elsewhere. In other words, the journal was attempting to help female doctors to be more professional and thus to make more money. To become financially independent. Because that is what a young girl who plays with dolls dreams of being when she grows up.

The response was as you might suspect it to be.

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Last week’s Friday hawt chicks & links was a tribute to the Woodpile Report. I was a little worried that readers might consider my tribute to be a bit uppity or out of place. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the reaction, both in the comments and via email. It seems that I did an okay job, which was somewhat of a relief. You never know which way these things will go. In fact, I never know how anything that I publish will be received or what the reaction might be. Viral posts are never planned, by any writer. If you try to deliberately hit a nerve you will almost be guaranteed of missing. Most times the viral posts are those done off the cuff, a quick five minute throwaway before you hit the sack. Might as well get something up before I turn in, that sort of thing.

And then you get up the nest morning and the world has gone crazy, online world that is. It’s a decent analogy for life. You can do all the planning that you want but most times you need a dash of the absurd to hit the ceiling.

Anyway, I received many requests for me to continue the format dedicated to Ol’ Remus. Once again, this does not sit well with me. It feels blasphemous, as if I am trying to ride on his recently deceased coattails. But the requests keep coming and sometimes you need to give people what they want. So I will continue the format, for now. While it still works and while it is still acceptable. If I get push back then I will drop it. The important thing to note is that Remus dedicated his entire week to writing the Woodpile Report, whereas I try to get at least three or four other pieces out during the week as well as a podcast. Plus, I am not retired. Work wise I normally approach sixty contact hours in a week. So this will never approach the length or breadth of what he managed to achieve. He also had a good many decades of worldly experience on me, whereas I am just a spring chicken novice in comparison.

So take it with a grain of salt. If the format brings you comfort, satisfaction, joy and a sprinkling of illumination then it will have achieved its purpose. That is all that I offer, nothing more. And with that, on with the show.

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Paper Australians are Australian for their own advantage only. The real question is just how long this condition lasts. How long before the rats desert the sinking ship? Is it a single generation? Two, or maybe three? Even longer? If you listen to the casual proponents of civic nationalism, they would have you believe that anyone who sets foot in the country immediately obtains the sudden inheritance of Western values via the mysterious elements of magic dirt and support from the globo-homo industry.

That last one is not specifically mentioned, nor alluded to; it simply lurks in the shadows like the misshapen and grotesque toad that it is. But it is there nonetheless.

Let us accept for the moment that this immediate assumption of Western values happens. And what then? Are they Australian? What does that mean? Does it mean that they share in our prosperity? Does it mean that their progeny have equal rights to the nation as the progeny of those that were the once nominal cultural heirs of the nation via blood?

Would they defend Australia to the death from foreign invaders? Such a question is somewhat ludicrous; how can foreign invaders be expected to defend their adopted country from foreign invaders? Which foreign invaders have a greater claim? The ones with the biggest stick?

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A few months’ ago I wrote about Australian labor politician, immigrant invader blow-in and affirmative action recipient Kristina Keneally, who was making noises about having some sort of rethink about Australia’s disastrous immigration policies which she herself had championed for so long. I was firmly of the opinion that the woman not be let off the hook for her past actions.

Keneally is the original Karen, a domineering busybody who wants to see the manager, but unfortunately for Australia she, and many of her ilk, became the manager. She is the strident banshee who instead of being disciplined as a child was continually told that she could be anything that she wanted and that she could change the world.

An aside about the Karen meme: it’s the nationalist right’s response to mansplaining.

Anyhow, Kristina ‘Karen’ Keneally, (KKK), is back in the headlines again but this time for more nefarious reasons.

Australia under pressure to officially ban right-wing extremist organisations.

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The hawt chicks & links comes in this week with a great deal of sadness. The Woodpile Report is no more. Ol’ Remus succumbed to cancer a few weeks ago and only the final page remains in place, a fitting testimony to a man who posted to the end. Remus followed his wife to God as she passed away only a few months prior. Then he was diagnosed with cancer and lasted three weeks. I have no doubt that he refused all medical treatment; from his writings he was not the sort to prolong the agony. The just get it over and done with type, pull the band aid immediately and no wincing. Or are ya some weak kneed city slicker?

Some of his many hundreds of reports have been collected on another site. I went through a few but they lacked the magic of reading them in their moment of time. I will read them no more; it is something that has gone and cannot be replaced. His dry wit, piercing intellect and unending curiosity coupled together with a beautiful writing style made him unique. I am proud to have been linked to on The Woodpile Report. When it happened I knew that I had passed a test. A rite of passage if you will.

So this edition of the hawt chicks & links is dedicated to Ol’ Remus. And you would be wise to follow his eternal advice to stay away from crowds. You never want to discover that you’re the last remaining optimist.

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During the Q&A session of my talk at the XYZ Conference the other week, I encountered a panelist by the name of Stefanos. Stefanos is a member of the Greek Orthodox Church in Australia, and from what I understood his parents were Greek immigrants to Australia. Thus, under the auspices of civic nationalism, Stefanos considers himself to be Australian.

Why not? He was born in Australia, he grew up in Australia, he even speaks with a sort of Australian accent. Ipso facto, he must be Australian.

During the Q&A session he asked me what he could do to help further the cause of Australian nationalism. With total sincerity I replied that the very best thing he could do would be to go back to Greece and help defend his native country from the waves of invaders that are even now breaking against its scattered hundreds of islands.

This didn’t go down too well.

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A few weeks ago I noticed an obviously coordinated series of articles across major Australian media sites. The articles were extolling the glorious virtues of buying property in Australian regional centers. Apparently, moving to the quasi-country is the new thing to do. Those crowded cities are just plain boring and unattractive, not to mention the hideously overpriced property values.

Nothing like a good media beat up to create even more overpriced property values. It’s also directly tied into the financial markets. They’re worried that the property bubble bursting will affect their liquidity, so they’re trying to spread around the pain. Ease the great hammer blow which is coming and which cannot be avoided.

Let’s face it, the only reason that Australia’s conservative prime minister is so desperate to grant citizenship to anyone from Hong Kong with a pulse is one last ditch effort to delay the inevitable property meltdown. Not on my watch, Mildred!

So I thought it was all pretty clear cut. Until I started seeing the same sort of articles popping up in the USA.

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Young men often ask me how to become a man. With no real initiation rites today, the best advice that I can give young men is to dedicate yourself to searching for the truth.

The Friday hawt chicks & links returns, and after a week where the old blog was in hiatus, at least for a few days. Every now and then you need a bit of time away to recharge the batteries of humorous outrage. I could have written things this week. I could have said stuff. But I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t have the urge. I did other stuff. Uninteresting stuff. Mostly I did some thinking, away from the keyboard. Collecting my thoughts for future furious intellectual rampages. I also read some books. I have a lot of reading to catch up on, and a bunch of books which I promised writers that I would review and which have been languishing in literature purgatory. So I’m getting to it, fellas. I’m getting to it.

Heaven help my own writing. It seems that I have a choice – write on the blog or write books. I can’t really do both it seems. I got a lot of good feedback from my talk and the Q&A that I did last week. But I am one for reading material, not sitting and watching it. I like active over passive. So I expect most people who follow me are the same. It’s a tricky one. Perhaps I just need to be more disciplined. 500 words a day and that sort of thing. But you try writing 500 words after a 5am start and its 12 hours later and you’re pretty tired. And then write an article on top of that. Sheesh.

Because you can’t just write an article. There has to be some forethought, some research. And that all takes time. Like the hawt chicks & links. So now it’s early Saturday morning and here I am, banging away at the keyboard for you all. But so what? I chose to do this. You didn’t come around demanding it. And I am the sort of person that goes insane if I can’t say my bit. And I want to say my bit in my way without anyone else telling me what to do. Hence, the blog.

I’ve heard that blogging is out of fashion. Ho hum. So what is in fashion? Tik Tok? No, thank you. I’ll give that a big fat pass. Let the kids run around like morons with that sort of rubbish. Here at the hawt chicks & links we like to pass ourselves off as intellectuals. When the left wins power the intellectuals are always the first that go up against the wall. Including their own. Can’t have anyone with half a brain undermining the glorious revolution, can we now.

I couldn’t think of a better place to be. So, with that under our belt, let’s get on with it.

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