A thousand words
It's nice to be a mate.

A few words for my mates who come to my place on the web

Thanks for coming, you are very welcome here.   I am not a journalist as the journalists union precisely describes the job.   I am Maureen's son, Katarina's husband, I had one of the greatest jobs in the world and lost it for trying wanting to broadcast an interview with Bob Kernohan.   I've got no job, no ability to get a loan for a house, a wife who wants normal things that wives want out of life.   We live in a student apartment that Katarina bought when she was at uni, we were going to buy a proper home after I moved down from Queensland, but then I lost my income and ability to satisfy a lender.   And I've watched Julia Gillard skite about that in the parliament.

I'm in a bit of shock over the reaction to me telling you, my friends, how happy I was yesterday.   Mates respect confidences.   If you come here to my place, I think of you as my mate.   I was told a few things on Friday that I can't tell you about.   But I am able to tell you that I'm very bloody happy about it!   It's not a conspiracy theory, it's not a subliminal message, it's not a ploy to piss you off.   It's just me being me, and very happy too!

So come here as my guests.   If you knock the joint about, stick your feet on the furniture, drop your durry butt in someone's stubbie I won't be too impressed.   So please know you're welcome but mind your manners.

A blog's not like a billboard on a public street.  You have to come here.  I'll let you in on spec, there's no paywall, no block on anyone, just come in.   And if I want to tell the world how bloody happy I am, I will!  

Finally while I'm in a house-keeping mood, this is the only site I endorse with my name on the web.   I know that there are people who lift stuff from this site and re-post it.  I have never expressed an endorsement or repudiation of any one else's site.   If you want to go to the trouble to set up a Facebook or another website, good on ya!   It's you not me.   I am struggling to find enough seconds in the day to read/edit your comments, keep up to date with your emails, provide enough grist for the Latham defamation mill to get his house/pension, research stories, reply to queries from media/police/politicians etc and still get recognised in the hallway as a resident of our home occassionally by the Czechoslovakian Princess.

PS   Some things are actually what they seem to be.   Like me being happy.   Thank you conspiracy linesmen, thank you conspiracy ball-boys.