Tony Abbott's opinion polls go from bad to dismal, but Sydney bureau chief Ross Jones reckons he couldn't care less if he doesn't get re-elected — he is a man on a mission.
Well might we gloat, because nothing will save the Prime Minister.
Frustratingly, it’s an empty gloat, because Abbott has no aspiration
for PM longevity. He doesn’t want to be saved. Doesn’t care if he loses
his first election. Never did.
Abbott and his close associates always knew their bald-faced lies
when in opposition would translate into mass hatred when the curtain was
pulled back. Abbott wears ‘One Term Tony’ as a badge of pride.
OTT is going to be very happy riding off into the Murdoch Sunset in
2016, job done, Australia handed over to global jihadi capitalism. Gratis.
Our souls to spread on the winds of free trade, forced to import
everything we don’t dig up; no jobs, no welfare, no education, no
health. Third-world shitsville. Bikini Atoll without the bikini.
Abbott will probably move back home in 2016, perhaps to a nice little
estate in Cheshire, corresponding only occasionally with those left
behind in the impoverished colonies.
Gough Whitlam and Lance Barnard also unleashed a first-term whirlwind of reform, their achievements eloquently noted by Noel Pearson. Gough and Lance turned their shoulders to making Australia a country for all Australians.
Their current-day equivalents, Credlin and Abbott (although Lance was
elected), have instituted the antithesis — a whirlwind of crash and
burn destruction in a scant 15 months. Peta and Tony have turned their
shoulders to making a country for Gina and Rupert and the conga line of
IPA/multinational bullies. They will be well-rewarded for their efforts.
Gough and Lance didn’t get everything right, but Credlin and Abbott are enjoying a much higher strike-rate in their endeavours.
As the pair work their way through their paymaster’s itinerary,
published in manifesto form as the IPA’s itemised agenda, it’s tick
after tick after tick.
1. Repeal the carbon tax.
Tick. Even though it wasn’t actually a tax. You want real tax? Try this. GST 15%. No, bugger it, 20%.
2. Abolish Department of Climate Change.
3. Abolish Clean Energy Fund.
It goes on. And on. 75 wishes in total.
Ironically, the IPA manifesto is entitled:
‘Be like Gough: 75 radical ideas to transform Australia’
Many, like #43 abolish the mining tax, have been achieved, but there is still a frighteningly long list as yet un-ticked.
A few samples:
26 Remove anti-dumping laws ....
27 Eliminate media ownership restrictions ....
38 Repeal plain packaging for cigarettes and rule it out for all other products, including alcohol and fast food ....
50 Break up the ABC and put out to tender each individual function ....
53 Repeal the Fair Work Act.
This deliberate traducing of Australia for the benefit of a few was a
well-planned exercise, fomented in darkness then splashed across the
front pages of the Daily Telegraph. Which would you rather: Tea Party or
Abbott and his backers know they have a scant 21 months left to
complete the full introduction of the Wish List and they are going to do
everything in their power to make sure it happens before bye-byes.
Rules are made to be broken.
We find ourselves hanging on to what is left of Australia by a
gossamer thread. At one end of the thread, suspended over an abyss,
swing 23 million Australians.
At the other, clutching with varying degrees of pressure, are The Brick with Eyes; the package-loving Jacqui Lambie; Dio Wang, or Wong, or whatever his name is; Brmm Brmm Muir; Family Man (maybe) Bob Day; Shoot First David Leyonhjelm; Bob Santamaria fan John Madigan and, of course, Ratbag Greens sympathizer Nick Xenophon.
And maybe the Greens.
The Labor Party under Shorten is an ineffectual and timid rabble,
able to strike a blow but not understanding its opponent does not mind
All Abbot has to do is stay in power until the election; stay on his feet until the bell. Rope-a-Dope.
The chance of a Labor left-hook penetrating Abbott’s defence and laying him on the canvas are nil.
Not that long ago, Tony Magrathea gave Labor all the material it needed to have a swing when his many FOIs and other enquires failed to uncover Abbotts’s renunciation of British citizenship. If Abbott is still British and he refuses to provide evidence he is not, that would see him awarded the Parliamentary Order of the DCM — Don’t Come Monday. The towel would enter the ring.
But what did Labor do? Nothing. Not even a polite question. Just sat
there and goaded Bronwyn Bishop. Fun, but hardly productive.
Were the shoe on the other foot, the Libs would be getting their
wealthy supporters to hire the best lawyers and investigators to look
behind the Thomson and Slipper matters and see a raft of criminal and
civil charges descend on the opposing benches.
But this is Parliamentary Labor 2014. A shell-shocked nest of traitors and hangers-on. Leaners, if you will.
In fact, one of the many scary things is the thought of what this
bunch of ne’er-do-wells will do after they inherit an eviscerated
economy and its multitude of browbeaten underclass.
Anyway, Happy New Year.
My tip for 2015? If you know any Preppers in your street, make sure you smile and say hello.