Every home should have one

I wonder if I could have a few moments of your time?

I feel that it is my responsibility sometimes to remind the reading public that a society such as ours goes about its everyday business often with strict regard to certain well-established norms of behaviour.

In this regard, I wonder if I could prevail upon you — it will only take a moment — to reach down between your legs and see if you can locate something to grab onto. You don't need to go far — just keep searching at arms length in a region often referred to as the crotch.

More than likely you'll know what I'm talking about as many of you no doubt find an excuse to visit this locale several times a day. In your hand is a tackle box. If you don't possess this item of anatomy, I need trouble you no longer. You can go back to the crossword.

The rest of you should not take this opportunity to spend an undue amount of time down there exploring a structural component which you are perhaps already quite familiar with. You can adjust it. Hitch it up. That will do. All I'm interested in is reminding you that it's there.

[3 mins 13 secs   3.1 MB]

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The Discreet Charm of Bosses

How can I put this without giving offence?

There are some in our society who live off the labour of others.

Don't get me wrong. Most of us get along without recourse to such means, but there are an anonymous few who exploit their fellow human beings without compunction — and, what's more, they have been doing it unchallenged for years.

Does that seem so fantastic? Here is a conspiracy going on under our very noses, and no-one owns up to it. You won't read about it on the front page of the local daily, nor has Sixty Minutes covered the story. But these types do exist.

They're among us now.

[2:46   2.7 MB]

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The Blather attends G20

About 2000 people gathered at Roma St Forum in Brisbane for the Peoples' March against the G20 Summit on November 15.

Aboriginal activists kicked off  the speeches and a march, surrounding by heavy police presence, followed.

Multiple issues were  raised at the protest, including Aboriginal deaths in police custody, demand for action on climate change, support for renewable energy, and highlighting the disappearance of 43 students in Mexico, while the Mexican president is in town.

Protesters also opposed the corporate agenda the G20 meeting was pushing.

The Blather was there...

[8:18   8.0MB]

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I reckon I'm pretty much reconciled.
Yep. I'm much more reconciled than I was last week.
Reconciliation is all the go. I'm reconciled. You're reconciled. We are all reconciled. Oh, it's just lovely. Brings a tear to my eye it does.
You wouldn't by chance be Aboriginal would you?
Not even the teeniest?
Because if you were I could reconcile with you and you could reconcile with me and it would be like the real thing.

[1:26   1.4MB]

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The bit what's left

In a standard working day of eight hours, it may take me four hours to produce the equivalent of my wages. If the time needed to cover my wage packet is reduced from four to two hours, then the bit what's left increases from four to six hours.

It is the bit what's left that makes free enterprise what it is today — exceedingly profitable...
[2:52 2.8MB] .

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Keeping us safe from marauding queue jumpers

Approx 3 minutes of musings by my good self upon the topic of girtedness aided by basking sunshine  and Pacific surf with musical  accompaniment from Delta Goodrem  adding  to the pizzaz.

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Podcast Chat

Still experimenting...
I checked out my audio recording rigs and most predate the new user-friendly digital universe. But with what I had to hand I cut a quick test audio at the computer.Then I uploaded the file to Google Drive (ever so free) and now share the mp3 filed here.
Ever so easy...very quickly done.

Fun times ahead.

Click on the link below below to listen to 2 minutes of indulgent chat. 

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(If it could) a foetus speaks

They all take care of me: the church, the state, the doctors and judges. For nine months they all wish me the best. I am something precious and they protect me.

As an unborn I am supposed to grow and flourish. Ignorant as to my gender, my language and my race -- with meals on tap and free bed and board -- I can have a good time without worrying about what tomorrow brings. You see, we unborn get it good even if we don't know who we are.

Come to think of it -- and thinking is something I'm not usually noted for -- for all I know I could be an orangutan or some other life form as my zoological attributes are presently unapparent to me. Such ready scholarship is not my forte and besides I am yet to learn to read or speak and have no idea what my kind looks like.

But let's assume I possess 23 chromosomes and may pass my born days as human. Give me nine months to get my X's and XY's together and I'll be dilated to meet you.

In the meantime, they all take care of me: the church, the state, the doctors and judges. If someone should get it into their head to harm me, she (it is usually a "she" apparently) had better watch out. I belong to the state. The church owns my soul. And the doctors and judges ensure that nobody inflicts pain on me.

But after nine months I'm on my own. For 50 years of my life to come nobody will care for me. I'll just have to help myself. A job? It'll be up to me. An education? That's something my parents should pay for. If I should steal for my own relief, a judge will put me in jail. If I am desperate the church will comfort me, but it won't get me a job, or feed me, or house me. Don't harm others, I'll be told, especially not the unborn.

Encouraged by this message I may make a good fist of it. If of a religious persuasion and fostered by the church I may be enrolled in the God-Man-Boy-Love Association because the church abhors abortion much more than it does paedophilia.

As I said, it will be up to me. Pretty soon I'll be on my own and my transgressions will be my own fault. But for the time being, while I remain trapped in this woman's body, I'm everybody's business but hers.

To be cared for by so many is a wonderful feeling. (Whatever that is. I have not, as yet, experienced an emotion but I'm looking forward to it). For nine months I'm the apple of everyone's eye. Don't mess with the foetus, they'll say, that's where babies come from (and babies grow up to be workers and soldiers).

People who I don't know and whom I may never meet are watching over me. Aren't I the lucky one? But tell me: why doesn't it stay this way?
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Blathering all the time

Not sure? Are you in in two minds as to whether you'll subscribe to Ratbag Radio? You're asking yourself perhaps,"Can this stuff damage my ears, addle my brain, or expose me to sounds I really don't want inside my head?"
You're thinking,"Ratbaggery --can I risk it?"
Sure you can. Sample the wares. Check out The Blather by listening to this promo. It won't tell you a darn thing worth knowing but it sure has all the attitude you could ask for. So come on: stick it in your ear!
It will take less than a minute to play.

* 51 secs 64kbps 401KB 24kHz

A Note regarding iTunes

iTunes still has The Blather listed  so that's what you need to search for in the iTunes Store to locate The Blather in the iTunes podcast catalogue.

  1. Open iTunes on your computer
  2. Under the “Advanced” menu, select “Subscribe to Podcast…”
  3. In the window that opens, paste this URL: http://feeds.feedburner.com/RatbagRadioBlog
  4. Click the “OK”button

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The Blather #16 - "From within the Shadow of the Golden Circle cannery..."

This episode of The Blather explores the geography of our opening phrase; “From within the shadow of the Golden Circle Cannery...” as an excuse to test walk Ratbag Radio’s new recording setup around our neighborhood.

24 min 13 sec / 80 kbps / 44kHz / 13.86 MB / Mono


The Blather's recording rig:

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