But take this on board… this life isn’t for everyone, it isn’t easy and if it were truly profitable and continuously enjoyable less people would be departing the industry in the droves that they presently are. If it were safe, secure and overly healthy or stress free people other than other foreign businesses would be lining up to get involved. The land is hard and often unforgiving, the life can be lonely and on occasion unrewarding, and while most do it by choice… I pause to pose this one very simple question… if not us, then who? Who will do it all?  

Who will feed the millions? Both on this land and abroad… Governments have said in the past when that question was posed, that they’d simply import! I say, From where? And at what cost? And of what value?

Who will clothe the very same millions? Billions even?!

This isn’t a trick question, this is a very simple question, and believe me it’s by no means a question that infers in any way that other folks in other industries don’t bust their hump or work long and hard… but life on the land, making an income, is different, and so I repeat… who will do it all?

Who will till the land and who will tend the animals? And in that, who will endure the heartache and the challenges that just those two aspects of rural enterprise encompass? Who will rise early, toil amongst the elements and return after dark? Who will swallow deep and almost choke on pride to often do the unlikely, the unsavoury and unsettling when required?

Who will sacrifice time with family, time with friends, time alone to recover, to relax or reflect? Who will give up those moments seen or experienced but once and never repeated?

Who will give up sleep, give up health, give up long held dreams and on occasion relationships both near and far? Who’ll stand there when the rains never make it all the way, or last just long enough to not do more harm than good? Who’ll endure each drought as though it were their last to be survived, knowing full well it is one of many, and one true constant of life on the land?

Who out there will go outback? Who will go past the end of the bitumen, long from the lights of town, into the powerline and internet black holes; amongst the timber and the dust, away from the many services often thought to be essentials of modern life? Who does that now and who will do it for years, decades and generations to come?

Who will do this because they have always done it? Not because it is all they know, but because it is what they know they were meant to do… Who will breed kids into a life where the challenges, the dangers and the risks are so very real and the pressures (at times) almost too much to imagine… let alone bare in truth.

This is no sob story nor tilt at self-indulgent pity for gratification… this is a reality check.

The rural industry is not all rolling hills of green dotted with fat cows off the “Dairy Farmers” milk ads and merino sheep with coats of fluffy white wool – just as it’s not all bulldozers and scrub puling chains. It’s not Wrangler Jeans, high top boots and large brim hats; nor is white jeans, striped shirts and days at the local wool and flower show. It’s not just images from poetry or motivation for a national identity, it’s just our heritage or our history on a great untamed land. It’s not big verandas, garden parties and kids born into privilege… that! Most of that… is bullshit!

For many, and on many occasions it’s snake bites and dust storms, it’s massive debts and interest rates or family arrangements that do more harm than good; it’s falls from horses and sun burn, it’s wind chill and wipe outs, it’s busted hands and broken bones, it’s heartbreak and depression from impacts of faraway markets or ill-informed political opinion. It’s mustering accidents in the air or on the ground where not everyone got to go home… It’s families that had to walk away when the load became too much or the guilt from loss of desire bit too hard. It’s tears, both yours and mine, and blood, both hot and cooled from an injury or a life lost.

Of course it’s not all doom and gloom, and of course there are endless happy stories and joyous moments to fill photo albums and memories alike. There are traditions passed on, practices continued and doorways walked through by generation after generation of the very same kin. But it’s not a given, it’s not guaranteed and for many the struggle is real. The good times are often hard won… long sought after and on many occasions left with the echoing question of if it was all worth it.

Each industry and each individual to their own I say and I salute one and all for efforts made no matter what you do… so please don’t pity the bush or the folks that choose this life for them, but don’t take it or them for granted either. Think before you speak… think before you vote… think before you eat or pull on a jumper… and perhaps be happy to pay what food & fibre are really worth, not just what’s cheapest at the cash register.

These people, like this land and the broader industry can only take so much, and once lost… who will do it all then? 

Thanks for reading and for playing along, this is Black Rat’s back chat & you’re welcome. XO JM.

I recall those days and those old folks as though were yesterday, the house they built and lived in for decades, the crazy paint selections including pink, green and yellow on the walls and of course the conversations. The endless chats, the stories and recants of history (according to them), and of course the advice. Both my grandfathers were into politics and both the grandmothers were very much the strong ladies behind the man out front… and while as a kid I didn’t truly see it, know it and I guess respect it… now as an adult I absolutely soak that shit up and am so proud of who they were, where they came from, what they did, what they made possible for the rest of us… and for setting a standard. 

When those two old fellas passed away, both in soon succession I think I was in my twenties and was truly devastated, perhaps for one a little more than other, but only because I knew him a little better and he me… but still, I was gutted. Within a space of a few months (if memory serves me correctly), they were gone; these two giants of my world and heads of our family had come to the end of their respective journeys. I spoke at both their funerals, well not so much speak as much as recite some poetry that I’d written… To some that’s a bit out there for a young bloke from the bush, but to me it was a must, it was the most natural and also brutally painful thing I could do. I loved those men; I looked up to them like the stars in the sky and can still see them now in the darkness of my mind when I close my eyes.

All my grandparents are gone now and I guess I (we all) take one more step forward in our own journeys and along our own individual pathways… guided to some extent by the memories and the wisdom or advice imparted by those that have come before us. While I can remember very clearly my Dad’s folk’s way and appearance, how they carried themselves, presented themselves and treated one another; it’s more so mum’s folks whose words linger with me still to this day. This of course is solely because of that proximity when we all lived on the property together amongst the Mulga and the Box trees. Those days running the bore-drain with the Boss (that’s what we called mum’s dad – and by we, I mean everyone… the immediate family, the extended family, the local community and even the whole shire for that matter). The Boss was Shire Chairman for thirty odd years, ran the property and raised a good lump of a family… so yeah, I guess he was the Boss.

I remember helping Gran sweep the verandas, feed the chooks and dogs, do a spot of weeding in the garden and even cart timber supplies in for the old wood stove in the corner of the kitchen. And talk, as you may imagine muggins here as a young fulla may have been prone to chat, keen for a bit of chin wag… bit of a waffle… talk a bit! Yes indeed… but so too were the oldies and in part perhaps that’s why we got along so well and why so much of that time, those memories and even their words are now engrained in me, in my head and my heart.

When I read my poem for the Boss in front of a packed house at the town hall in Quilpie, I was struggling; my hands were shaking, my throat was dry and my face wet with tears… and even now a lump gathers in my throat and heavy heart builds within. But it was those hard times that bedded down the good times spent with those both folks… those tears were because I had had it so good, not just because those times had come to an end. That loss then and the memory of that sad feeling is soon replaced in me by the pride and joy of all that came before it, and the strength that those times, those words of gentle wisdom now provide to me.

Somewhat strangely a few years later and amidst yet another dry time (I try not to use the word ‘drought’ too often, if I can get away with it… because in some parts it’s pretty bloody dry a fair bit of the time – and that’s just the way it is). Dry or drought it was a crook time on the place and I was toiling long and hard, or at least as long and as hard as I could manage. Many and varied were the tasks and so too the demands on a young bloke’s ability… and I don’t mind sayin, that time was pretty tough on me and I dropped the ball a few times along the way. I pushed myself as much as I could and from time to time certainly felt like and even considered throwing the towel in. Each day appeared to be tougher than the previous one and so much so on occasion I struggled to get out into the paddock, or back into the house for that matter. While having a bit of a whinge about how I’d collapsed in the paddock a couple of times, my Gran volunteered to come and help me… yep, the old girl was 80 if she was day and now was my offsider on a pretty regular basis to keep me on track throughout the day.

On a semi regular basis mum would go town (once the oldies moved into town), collect her mum and come home with a port in tow for an extended stay. I’d drop by mum and dad’s place at sparrow’s fart in the morning and collect Gran, a tiny water bottle (because she didn’t believe in hydration none too much)… and off we’d go. I was on the chainsaw cutting scrub literally for years and on a few occasions fell asleep while parked at a gate or after fuelling and sharpening up for another tank full. With Gran at my side I did manage to endure and survive for a little bit longer, long enough to get a dozer back from the mechanics and go full steam again. She would open gates to make a contribution, read a Woman’s day magazine or talk to a visiting cow… and of course be there for a chat every time I returned to the ute throughout the day.

On one occasion and with me feeling particularly blue and full of complaints, Gran pulled me up. She said ‘we all have to do it tough from time to time throughout or lives’. I responded with the typical, ‘yeah but!’ Which she had absolutely no time for, saying ‘if you never do it tough, never test yourself and overcome, never know what it is like struggle… you’ll never know if you have what it takes to survive throughout a life… and if you don’t experience tougher times, how will you ever truly know what are good times?’

The vehicle settled into silence for a time and soon after I returned to the paddock, chainsaw across my shoulders and the sun beating down hard. Those words, that time and the feeling I had in my heart back then returns to me now. They had started with nothing, they had dug in, got busy, stayed busy and worked hard… and done it for the better part of a life time. They did that, in part, so that I can do this… so that I can have and do and say and be whatever, where ever and whenever I like. So I can eat and drink to my heart’s desire, have an opinion on everything and anything, load up on debt and seek out any whim, inclination or desire. I can dream or drag arse, I can get up and get going or sleep in complain over aches and pains, often self-inflicted. I can do whatever I want to do, because they did what they had to do… and the same in a way, goes for many of us.

So I think to myself, what of our children… born into a world of materialistic obsession, of social media driven judgement and seemingly endless confrontation. Is it simply a case of ‘breed ‘em tough and they’ll be fine’?… I’m not sure, I honestly don’t know how in this world you breed someone to understand a society that in a few short decades has gone for fighting for freedom and very basic rights and equality, to hardly fighting for anything at all, and valuing beauty, wealth, popularity and extravagance over pretty much everything.

When was the last time you heard someone say ‘he (or she) is as honest as a day is long’ OR ‘my word is my bond’? That’s not this world anymore…

I don’t know what we can do about it, perhaps the horse has bolted and we all just have to live with the way it is. I don’t know what to do or say to the kids about the world I remember growing up in verses the one they have, where they have wanted for nothing, struggled against anything and are in a way sensitive to everything.

Bu I do think of this… What would Gran do? What would the Boss have said or done? These are the questions that fill my mind and somehow, somewhere they will echo in my eternity… how about you?

Thanks for reading and for playing along, this is Black Rat’s Back Chat, and you’re welcome. JM ox

The top half says “this isn’t life”, while the bottom picture says “this is life…”.

Nope! That is bullshit… if that was life, and I do mean real life, then the guy (person) would have a phone to his ear because we pretty much all do these days… he also wouldn’t have a hat on because no bastard ever wears a hat anymore… sun cancer is for sooks apparently.

He most certainly wouldn’t be causally strolling but more likely to be gassing it along the very same track in the latest RV 4WD Sports wagon, because everyone needs one of those bloody things, even though 93% of all four wheel drives never leave the road…

And! If it were life, real fkn life, then unfortunately most of trees would’ve be bulldozed; for good reasons or for bad we are doing our very best to ensure these types of locations only exist in the imaginary world of memes and make believe.

Actually come to think of it, the whole bottom half of this picture is crap and to a certain extent so is the top half… because those folks in part of the pic aren’t moving anywhere near fast enough.

We have managed to manoeuvre ourselves into such a fast paced culture where the focus is so quickly shifting to the next moment, next experience or thing to do, have or consume.

In saying that though we’ve been indoctrinated to live in the moment, live in the moment, live in the god dam so important confounded mongrel of a moment!!!

We hear it over and over, in advertising campaigns on the tv and on television programs and in movies, on the radio and even in the newspaper….

It’s now forms some part of almost every mode of advertising or entertainment… and of course don’t forget the trusty old social media… which thrives on it.

There’s entire industries built to compel and support us in this endless pursuit of ‘the moment’. To achieve it, to capture it and to then tell every other bastard about it…. thinking nout for opportunity to actually enjoy it or share it and then treasure it.

But it’s impossible, and worse still it’s killing us and the society we’re so eagerly aware of while trying to achieve this zen moment… (a total state of focus that incorporates a total togetherness of body and mind)… what bullshit… and folks, as I say, it will surely see the end of us.

We’ve trapped ourselves in this endless loop of living in ‘this’ moment while trying to rush to the ‘next’ moment and all the while forgetting to build a life and contribute to a sustainable society.

People often say how the generations that came before us worked so hard, did it so tough… “these were the greatest generations!” And yep I tend to agree…

But how often do you think your grandfather (while swinging an axe, digging a hole, swinging off a massive spanner or carrying a log; or building a fence, standing up a shed, shearing a sheep, killing a beast, droving cattle, walking the bore-drain with a shovel over his shoulder etc etc etc etc…. AND even your grandmother for that matter, or mine. She had a pretty impressive list of shit she was getting done!

Neither of those fine folks, back in the day, be it town or country would have steadied themselves and thought… “Fuck! you know what? I should be lying on a beach in Bali working on my tan and truly just enjoying my life”. Or, “I wish I could capture an image of the seemingly routine task that I’m completing right now and tell the whole world about it.”

Hell no!

Those folks were building something, they were doing something truly constructive and not just something to be enjoyed in that moment, in an hour, or a day or a week… but for years to come, generations even.

These folks in my mind (with the fullest of respect) weren’t anything particularly special but dumpling doing what was required to both survive from one day to the next and to build a life for them and their family into the future.

I suspect they had the added luxury of being alive at a time when they weren’t being reminded on a semi constant basis that they’re doing it wrong or that others are either doing it or have it so much better… and that they too can have this perfect ‘bullshit’ existence with just a few changes here or there.

They weren’t being solid a totally unrealistic and unachievable fiction of how their lives can and should be. This notion that their lives are a series of brilliant and uniquely special moments that need to be cherished and savoured above almost anything else (but for a second) before frantically galloping to the next equally exquisite and totally unique experience.

That we can have and do and be almost anything our little heart desires… each and every one of us…

It’s sad but true that life or fete or general existence can be a fickle selection beast that shines on one while simultaneously taking a dump on others. You can do, be and have great things and great times. We can all contribute to and experience moments and milestones to treasure…

We need to know that and believe that so as to help us push on through the hard times, the tough times and the bad cards we’ve been dealt or corners we’ve painted ourselves into. But, and there is most certainly always a but… we have to consider what is realistically doable as individuals… and in the end how much of shit we give about the future of us as a race and this planet.

It can’t always be just about us, and it definitely can’t always be about just us in the here and now. What about tomorrow? What about the day after that and what about all those that are meant to follow after us…

We as the current crop of humans are burning the candle at both ends, and some in the middle for that matter… and surely it can’t last.

Thanks for reading and for playing along, this has been Black Rat’s backchat and you’re welcome. JM ox

We live in a world where it can be hard to find your place and build a life, and lot of that is due to how we spend our time, what we value and of course how we engage with those around us, and how they engage us. And let’s face it, if you’re too tall or too short, too skinny or too fat, too dumb or too smart, too dark or too pale, too young or too old.. you too rich or poor, you boy or girl, you gay or straight, you lucky or not, you working hard or working out, you trying hard or lying about, you sticking to it or falling clean through it… you win’n grin’n sin’n fool or not… it’s doesn’t always go your way, and there’s always gonna be someone or something there to test you.

But while all this is going on, we as a society (western society) have become so wrapped up in the unrelated gossip & the waffle, the rumour & innuendo, the do-gooder and PC bullshit that we’ve lost ourselves and the ability to focus on the things that count. We chew each other up and spit out the bones… we lob insults and judgement from afar and spend great amounts of our time looking outwards and rarely inwards… much at the fine example of our leaders, commentators and press.

The attraction to distraction and the addiction to fiction in our very own worlds has been so encouraged and is now so strong that the reality of real life is becoming nothing more than a race to the bottom. We no longer have a fkn clue who we are as individuals or as a people when it comes to making a stand for what counts, looking after each other or creating a sustainable livelihood… the world has gone bat shit crazy and almost every guy or gal ya talk to totally agrees and next door to no bastard supports the stupid shit we see society, but yet it keeps happening and we’re just here living out lives. We all on this earth shaped good ship named Titanic, powering towards the mother of all ice bergs of self-created bullshit. And while we’ve all got the shits about it… it seems impossible to make change.

When I look at my kids or I see families in town I wonder how those little ones are going to come to grips with the reality of existing in a society that is preoccupied like never before with what’s popular and what’s not; while we as individuals are boiling in our own juices and are either not interested, not confident enough or too disheartened by the amount of this crap that fills our lives to do anything about it.  

I don’t care how long you measure (some men are longer than others) or how much you weigh or earn, and I don’t care if you Bill fkn Gates smart or dumb as a strainer post. It impacts me little and fazes me not the colour of your skin, the depth of your pockets or who you crawl in or out of bed with… and we should all be same. Live our life, do our thing, raise our kids, build our world and FFS look after one another. Cut the bullying, cut the bullshit and please oh please drop this insatiable need to right every wrong, deliver every apology and rid the entire world of everything and anything that might ever offend, irritate or annoy any one of us.  

The world is a big old place brimming with billions of individuals with needs, wants and desires; yet we’re focussed on what’s popular, what’s cool right now and to an extent who’s up and who and who’s not payin!

Now I can’t promise you that if we’re just nice to one another and only use and take what we need to exist & prosper that everything will work out fine & dandy… but what I can promise you, that if we don’t drop the shit, turn back the clock a bit and open our eyes to the world around us (right where we are right now)… then the pollies and the talking heads, the gossip mongers and the tabloid tell alls will see us and our distracted addictions piss away the one and only life we have.

I don’t know about God and I’m not convinced of karma, good or bad… but I do know we can do better. I do know we’ve done better in the past and we can again, and I know that because of what we’ve built that we’re all surrounded by right now; and has been done so out of the dust and the dirt and the rocks and the leaves that lay before our predecessors. I know that, because of the witnessing the yards and the sheds and the fences and the drains and the dams and productive herds of livestock and small country towns that generations of rural folks built with their own two hands.

I know this because of the pictures on the walls in my home and yours of the folks that worked in a paddock, manned a gate, stood guard at a post or stood strong in front of their communities and did onto others and for the good of others without the need or emotional ransom for gratitude. I know that because the desire in me is to do better, to be better and is to no longer be about accumulation but increasingly about quality of behaviour and not quantity of capital, experiences, trophies or trinkets. My heart bleeds when I hear of suicides of young people, crime against old people and senseless destruction of simple homes and lives; and my mind aches for a way to encourage people to step away from the bullshit.

We live in both the most technologically advanced and unbelievably wasteful time in human history… the capabilities of the human race as a species right now are beyond belief and without comparison… but so too is the extent of the waste… the waste of food, waste of time, waste of space, waste of knowledge, waste of hearts & minds & souls… and waste of lives… and in a way a waste of a great but unknown and possibly untold future. This era, this time right now, is a time where the level of popularised bullshit and the art of distraction is so powerful that almost none amongst us have the ability to resist.

Or do we…?      

You tell me…

Thanks for reading and for playing along, this has been Black Rat’s backchat and you’re welcome. JM ox   

Whether you’re reading this seated on a log, rolled in ya swag or planted on the couch; perhaps sitting there on your own or surrounded by others… it’s still just us… unless of course you’re reading this out aloud to those around you and if so that’s kinda a weird, but each their own. 

Anyways, moving on. Today’s been okay, hasn’t it. Last night we slept in a bed and this morning we woke perhaps to the sound of others in the house moving around – perhaps someone was knocking together some breakfast for you like they did for me, very lucky… if so, that was a pretty good start to the day right there. 

We, you and I are older right now than we’ve ever been and as young now as we’re ever gonna be again… and that equation continues to evolve with every second… To some that’s a bit of a worry… but as worry is most definitely a wasted commodity I try not to focus on what is or was and more so on what may be. What we can do or say or be and less about what may have been, should have or could have been… and again because for the most part, it’s in the past and there is SFA we can do to change it. 

Unfortunately though we as a collective have a range of things we prefer to focus on, and rarely are those things of a positive or constructive nature. Sure we think and plan and scheme and worry but so much of it is about us, our life, our family, our stuff and how we can get more of it or ensure that we don’t lose any of it. Or it’s our increasing addiction like following of those whose lives we’re told and tend to imagine are either more interesting or more important than our own. Back to us though, we get up early and we work hard, really hard, we pay our bills and we pay our taxes… and that’s enough, ain’t it… isn’t it… well… isn’t it?

I say ‘no’; not ‘no’ to working hard and certainly not ‘no’ to paying our way, but definitely ‘no’ to that being enough. If we simply pay at the counter, so to speak, and go on with our lives with little more contribution than that, then we are nothing more than passengers… and since when have the passengers ever had any control over how the trip goes? You board a plane or climb onto a bus and away you go, you fully expect that the chosen mode of transport will deliver you safely and on time to your chosen destination… you rarely consider the conditions that the pilot or driver may encounter along the way and yet we are all so very put out and disappointed should we arrive more than a few moments late at either end. The journey of life and the part we play in the general passage of our evolving society is not totally dissimilar to the plane or the bus ride.

Sure life is more complicated than that, of course it is, but it doesn’t have to be when considering the role we fill in each other’s lives or as a member of an ever growing community. We, the masses, we the people, the mums & dads, the husbands & wives, the brothers & sisters of the human race on this planet have delegated away both our opinions as individuals and our authority as a body of people… and all this by doing nothing… nothing at all. We didn’t set out to see this happen, we didn’t choose it for ourselves or come together as a group to form a general consensus of opinion for a way forward. We just got so wrapped up in our own lives and partly distracted by the gossip, waffle and drama of some other’s lives that we forgot that to be in the game, you have to compete. We have to be willing to act on our convictions and focus on what’s important to us as a community… and not just to us as individuals.

We all know shit costs too much, but still we pay it. We know a lot of what we buy generates enormous amounts of rubbish and that that rubbish irreparably damages the environment, yet we continue to purchase these things and in many cases discard the wrapper, canister or packaging without a second’s thought. That may have been partly sustainable on a planet of this size when we numbered in the hundreds of millions… but at seven billion and growing this is becoming a problem.  

We’re well aware of the enormous amounts of wasted food that our selective and down right picky tastes have long now encouraged, but no change, we still need our fruit to be perfect and our vegetables uniformed and inside an acceptable margin for appearance. We as a planet produce on a nearly daily basis twice as much food as we require to sustain ourselves, but between what never sees the shelves due to alleged below par quality or a system that prices much of it out of the reach of many… we waste so very much of what we need above almost anything else to survive.  

Our journalists, commentators and elected officials do on occasion do and say things that we’re all appalled by and yet we continue to buy their papers, we watch their news programs, we listen to their radio shows and often we line up to re-elect the very same individuals who we’re convinced are lying to us or deceiving us to some extent… AND worse still, we don’t speak up, we don’t call out the behaviour or stand against these folks at the next election to provide the population some very real choice when it comes to candidates to represent us.

I studied recently a little about the human mind, the human brain, and it turns out that our big old brains are so efficient that they have put a large part of what we do throughout our lives on autopilot… they (our brains) have created a manual of sorts for so much of what we do so that we need not bother wasting time thinking through each and every action or activity our hearts and minds compel us to undertake. Now that sounds pretty cool I guess, certainly when it comes to walking, talking, sleeping, drinking, driving and a what I presume is an endless list of other things that fill our days. But, and unfortunately it’s a pretty big but! our brains have become so good at this that our society has gradually adopted a very similar approach to life, and in time if not already we will all be the weaker and lesser individuals because of it.

We (me very much included) all want things and want them now. We desire and almost need instant resolution and or satisfaction for each and every request, action or inkling our minds consider. Making this worse, if it’s not already a rather sad and very disappointing situation, is that we’re no longer as willing to work for this resolution and satisfaction as we once were. We’re born into homes and lifestyles that are more comfortable than those of many of the generations to come before us, we’re protected as youths from many of life’s hard lessons even though we’ve formed a strange relationship with these lessons though our parents, even though we’ve not truly experienced them ourselves. We’re schooled less and less by the village and more and more by the system as many members of the village are too busy now to assist in the raising of the children as they had once done.

With a reduced focus on contribution and increased attention paid to entertainment often we’re led into situations where idle hands certainly do provide a challenge for us all. When we leave school we’re now promised the world to be our oyster and at ages younger and younger offered access to parts of the grown world that had once taken many years to fulfil. We desire and soon achieve nicer and newer vehicles than perhaps we’re due, same for our homes, with us often moving into homes similar to if not better than those we grew up in with less and less people completing an apprenticeship of sorts of home ownership. With all these new shiny possessions and often considerable debt and almost lifelong commitments we’re driven and even forced to chase bigger more demanding and hopefully higher paying jobs to assist with paying for everything we’re rapidly compiling…

Due to these now unavoidably busy lifestyles we’ve become almost immune to the realities of life and with ever reducing attentions spans we now require more and more rapid stimulation to get the exact same high or sense of satisfaction that previous generations managed from far simpler activities and pastimes. We’ve no longer the time and to a degree the patience for investing in relationships or understanding the world around us. We don’t ‘take our time’ or ‘enjoy the ride’ anymore for we’re often either too worried about missing out on something better or too distracted by the many and varied devices and temptations that are constantly paraded for our possible consideration.   

We don’t donate our time, efforts or money as much as we used to yet are compelled to offer opinion where ever possible when the basics in life fall below our expectations. The same can certainly be said for amount of time we choose to invest in challenging or for that matter supporting those that we’ve elected to lead us… These folks are a reflection of us, if you want better leaders you need to not only put better candidates forward, but support them when they’re in office. The higher number of people stepping forward to lead will in time give us better leaders, and leaders that feel supported are more inclined to go the extra mile, try that bit harder and hold themselves and their actions to far higher standard than those that aren’t supported. We’re now a society of opinions (like this one) but not leaders, we comment and critic but rarely act to improve or resolve.

Many of our local community groups struggle to have enough people attend to even form a legitimate quorum. The local council or chamber meetings often invite the public to attend, but rarely see any great number of folks come along… as is the case with elected officials at a state or federal level. We are busy, we are not always in a position to contribute or attend… but for the most part we have lost faith in these conventions and are simply not interested. My grandfather on mum’s side was in local government for almost four decades while my dad’s father stood atop flatbed trucks on street corners and rallied the people prior to all elections to have more  people involved in the conversation. Both men were very much from the opposite sides of government, but what they both embodied was that ability, desire and commitment to get involved with the decisions that were being made that in one way or another impacted them, their families and the world they lived in.

Many will argue that life is far busier now than ever before and we as individuals simply don’t have time to do all the civic minded and community sustaining activities that those that come before us dedicated their time to… and while I’d love to agree… that’s crap. We (you and I) have to a great extent chosen the lives that we’re now living and filled those lives with all the issues, items and incidents that tend to dominate our days (and nights). We are so focussed on the here and now and have somehow developed a level of confidence that the weeks, months, years and even generations ahead will take care of themselves… and we really have lost sight of the long game… Those that came before us lived by sayings such as ‘saving for a rainy day’ and ‘look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves’, while we’re more of a ‘work hard, play hard’  and ‘borrow now, pay later’ type of animal.

The greatest thing we can do as a people and as individuals is to get involved… take some responsibility for what we have now and what we desire for our lives ahead and actively work within the community to see these come true for us all. By that, I mean we need to get back to voting with our feet and not with our mouths… if we don’t like something then discuss it, form an opinion amongst us as a society and then take action to see it changed. Don’t pay through the nose for stupid stuff or load up on debt just to do and have all the same shit that the folks have next door. Don’t buy the perfect fruit and veggies from the big shopping centres and instead seek out farmers markets, co-ops and private sellers… and let the Woolies and IGAs of this world know why you’re not spending with them like you used to. We can stop filling the oceans, rivers and country sides with rubbish by buying less disposable crap and of what we do buy, seeing that its reused or at very least finds it’s way into a bin.

We the people have the power to greatly impact if not totally dominate the way our world moves forward from here… but we have to get involved, even at the most remote or minute level. The top ten news stories of this year around the world are so far removed from what you and I know as our daily existence and have little if anything to do with the improvement and sustainability of us as a global society, yet they have seduced us and drained us of so much of our time, energy and inclination to act. Between the Donald’s latest tweets, Prince Harry’s love interest, gay folks getting hitched, our pollies family heritage and some rich or powerful people in Hollywood and around the world being royal shits to mostly young female staff… we’ve become drunk on the gossip and innuendo. Half the world’s population lives below what most of us western world people would accept to be a liveable living standard; millions starve annually and thousands if not tens of thousands continue to die in conflicts… yet our news and in turn our conversations are dominated by gossip, waffle and bullshit.

2017 has seen yet another year of the same; for every good deed done, dollar saved, mouth fed and life saved or improved countless more have been destroyed… and 2018 will be the same. I don’t know where, when, what or how I can change any of this… but I do know why, and the why is because if we don’t try it will only continue and in time get worse… and eventually see the end of us all. So if you don’t mind I’ll keep my festive season well wishes to a minimum and leave you with this… being a passenger in your very own life is bullshit, go to bed early tonight for a change and then in the morning, and in the new year… get involved… just get involved.

This is Black Rat’s Back Chat, thanks for reading and for playing along. JM xo

I’d written once again about the outback, about the characters, about the sheep that jumped out the top deck of a B-triple and lived to tell the story (till we ate ’im), also the cow that popped my hip, sprained my ankle, tore my calf muscle and F’d my right knee (again), and I’d even talked a bit about the great love of this young man’s ever increasing eventful bloody existence… BUT! And here’s an all stations apology up front; but I just can’t shake this notion of ‘what if?’

When you listen to the wireless or the TV, look at the news, read the paper, scan the web, flick through the social media, side stepping the click bait or even chat with folks up the street… muggings here just can’t help but wonder; what if the human race doesn’t get it’s completely crazy and continuously getting crazier & crazier? What if we don’t get our shit together and start acting like we give two hoots about the world around us; about the fella or shiela parked along side us, or the wing of kids we’ve had the good fortune or the crazy notion to bring into this world?

I mean seriously, pull up for a second and have a think about it; almost no bastard is interested in taking the slightest bit of responsibility for anything and next door to every bugger has someone to blame for the crap situation that has befallen them.

Now I get it, life isn’t all beer & skittles, I’m not even sure why ya’d wanta have beer & skittles, maybe beer & pork crackle but that’s beside the point and maybe a discussion point for another day.

Life isn’t a picnic, I know. Bad shit happens, I know. Crooked, screwed-up and down right ordinary, shitty stuff happens to sensational, kind hearted, well to do people all over the world all the bloody time… I know… and it breaks my sometimes blackened heart, but that is life. That shit right there, and what you do with ya self during that time and for years to follow is what it’s all about.

Life is pretty well one major disaster for some poor bastard somewhere one after another after another with brief moments of joy, of fun, of happiness and sanity and rare but beautifully blistering sweet and occasionally even orgasmic rapture in between.

If ya lucky you do get to see the view from the top deck of the B-triple, and if you’re brave enough or mad enough you do jump off and see where and how ya land. Then if you’re strong enough or again lucky enough to survive the impact you fly to ya feet and give it 90! You full noise those little woolly legs off into the paddock and hope like shit ya manage to get into the timber before life catches ya up, knocks ya arse over and by dinner o’clock you’re in the pot with the beans and the spuds. That’s life, the constant adventure of how you survive each and every day and the impact you have on those around you and those who may follow behind.

The whiney bitchy blame game, woe is me, screw the government or the system or fuck the PO PO type attitude that seems to have taken over the world right now is going to be the eventual death of us and in time the human race. We all think we live by the good old sayings we remembers as kids, but we don’t, not really… “everything in moderation…” people, yeah righto… Bullshit!!! We supersize the hell out of almost anything we get our hands. We want, nay! demand, that we get extra this, extra that, bigger this, bigger that in almost every facet of our lives and yet can’t for a moment fathom why there’s not as much good will, extra time, money in the bank or share of whatever you care to mention to go around. It’s the F-trucks and V8 Turbo Tojo utes, when we all got by driving Hilux’s type approach. Everywhere you look we’ve allowed ourselves and are training our little ones to want ‘the lot’, instead of ‘enough’ and then when it can’t happen or it all falls over; it’s some other idiots fault, or the system, or the government or the banks and on and on like that…

Folks, it’s us! It’s us! It’s fkn us! It’s always been us and will always be us until there is no us left to bitch about the rest of the us’s that are doing this shit to us… if ya with me.

The government for example, everyone complains about the government, like the people that make up the government are all robots and surely we didn’t vote robots into positions of power. They are people and I’m sure mostly good people, but the society that we’ve created with our endless complaining, law suits, 24 hour news cycle, gossip tv and lording of celebrities is grinding to a complete fkn halt where no side of government can do anything because we never vote enough of em in on one side to have the authority to change anything… and on the extremely rare occasion that we do give a majority to one mob and they come up with some shit to fix the problems, we kick and scream and bitch and moan and so they either drop what they were gonna do for fear of being voted out or they hold to it and we vote em out anyways before they had a chance to actually do anything.

We don’t listen to our leaders anymore, we don’t, not really. We see snippets and snapshots of what they are doing or saying pedalled by the media and then we listen to what some over paid big mouth commentator or so called expert has to say, none of it ever very complimentary or in actual context. Soon after that we bitch & moan some more about what we perceive as being the leader’s view or action on something and then the news report on all the bitching and the moaning… which compels the pundits and the pollsters to run yet another freaking poll (almost one a bloody day), that scares the be-jesus out of the over sensitive leader and before long they slip up, the media pounce, we shake our heads for yet another of our finest has broken our hearts and we gallop head strong to the nearest polling booth and vote them out.

We complain about absolutely everything and the world thrives off it… but we need to think about it for a second… we are constantly being told by the media that we are all talking about our kids being unhealthy or tired or fat and that fresh food is just far too expensive… but almost nobody has their own veggie garden for lack of room to build one behind our big old house or time to tend to it as both mum and dad are working.

We (via the media) constantly stick it to our police, especially for kicking the crap outta someone after we see it caught on CC tv, not giving a second’s consideration to perhaps it’s not always some power hungry cop wanker, but maybe the A-whole had it coming. We’re told our teachers are crap, the doctors are crooks or idiots, the soldiers are bullies or murderers, the pollies are all corrupt or overpaid, we pay too much tax (but there’s not enough services), my download is too slow and not enough data (although I stream shit 24/7), there’s too much pollution for me to see out the windscreen (of one of my three cars), there’s too much crime & the wanker cops are too busy beating someone up to do anything about it, the kids are on drugs, the prisons are full, the refugees are all ISIS (but don’t treat em badly please or are they), the farmers are the salt of the earth – but food costs too much, we’re working too long and too hard but the elderly can eat dog food while we rebuild another footy stadium to watch QLD belt the blues for the next 25 years in Sydney… and on and on and on and on and on and freaking on…

Folks… it’s us. This is our life, our society, our country, our species, our planet… ours! All ours and we have built what see before us and around us and we are doing all this shit to ourselves. We take the easiest option, the sweetest taste, the quickest fix, the cheapest solution, the best deal… even though we’ve convinced ourselves we’re just good simple folks leading a basic existence that’s not impacting or hurting anyone and it’s all about being nice to yourself and good things will happen…

I’m calling bullshit folks, it’s all bullshit. Easy, sweet, quick, cheap & best doesn’t work… never has, never will. We keep making food that’s no good for us, building machines and systems to take our jobs, spending money on crap we waste and waste our time and things that don’t matter… We! We are doing this. We have evolved into individuals that are now so capable of so much, but predisposed to enjoying the moment so much or missing the point and blaming others that we’re pissing away possibly the greatest period in the evolution of the human race.

If I spent as much time fencing, spraying weeds, cutting posts, stacking fire wood, fixing pipes and working cattle etc etc as I do with the phone to my ear or my face staring at a screen… my little farm would be simply heaven. If I split my beer, tv, phone, computer and other associated ‘me’ time even in half and divided one of those halves between my wife, family & friends… they might know me better and I them. If I didn’t need, nay! want so much crap in my life I wouldn’t need to work so much and would have even more time to live my life, tend that garden, support my friends and family… pay it forward… so to speak…

I try, I tell ya I try, I try really hard to practice exactly what I preach, but it’s hard folks, it’s really bloody hard and I cannot do it alone. I just want what everyone else wants… and want to be like everyone else and do what everyone else does… we all do, don’t we? And there is lies the problem… we’re no longer about thinking and doing, as we are about being and getting and having and enjoying.

Someone said and maybe joked that ‘life is what ya do while ya waiting for something better to come along…’ and for some maybe that’s true, but not me. It doesn’t get any better than right here right now, doing this, being me… because that’s all I’ve got, all any of us have got. We’re breathing in and out and always keenly aware that while we may profit from both your & my combined advice and experience… it’s down to us to actually go and get it done. Life for you and I could be over in a blink, but for our kin and our kind, if we continue as we are… it’s surely to be a death of a thousand cuts… and what a shame. What a god awful terrible heart breaking gut wrenching sickly shame to think we’ve come so far and achieved so much… and yet seem so committed to see it all gradually slip away.

What if folks… what if we just old schooled our lives for a bit and got back to the reality of living in a society and not the reality of gossip, waffle, greed and ego. Live our life like we’re part of something special… not just as though we’re the special part of something.

What if indeed…  

This for reading and for playing along, this Black Rats Backchat and you’re welcome. JM ox

#WhatIf #Not_all_sheep_follow #Something_special #In_the_end_its_us #MACF #GoodANuff

Think about that for a second…

Think about it…

Keeping thinking…

Think some more…

ok, that’ll do.

So I wonder how you went… How’d ya really go? Was your grey matter good enough to fathom some ridiculous shit like that..?

Now I’m not implying anything too radical here, just some reasonable everyday middle of the road good behavior. If you want eat crap tucker, drink beer and load up on coffee then giddy up, that’s not what I’m talking about. You want to stay up late, camp in the raw or sleep in till smoko time… Then fill ya boots. Still not my focus, not one bit. The type of stuff that we do to and for and with ourselves or our bodies isn’t it for me, it’s what we do to others.

What I’m talking about is the next level crap that we all do, some more than others, some a whole heap more than others and all of which is the shit that impacts the rest of us. The kind of stuff that we’re all subjected to and we all bitch about and blame someone for and never for a moment consider the very real part that we play in it.

For one day, not even a couple of days or a week… And certainly not any longer like a month or a year, because that would be torturous shit, unbearable even. But could you imagine for a single period of twenty four hours if people were one hundred percent kind and good to one another, and to the planet we reside on. Furthermore that we all played by the basic positive rules of society and didn’t, how does one say it “shit in our own nest?” We might live in a disposable society and even our own lives maybe temporary, but I’m pretty sure the planet isn’t and I hope the species isn’t.

So here’s some typical… And I’m sure there’s plenty more things that we all do throughout the course of a day that don’t seem like that big a deal at the time, but see what ya reckon, and please remember I’m not trying to be preachy or judgemental… I just can’t help but wonder what this place would be like if we all just picked up our game a bit;

Try not to speed – just leave earlier, we’re not the only ones on the road and as far as I know we’re not all trained stunt drivers or professional race car drivers, so knocking a few Kms off would undoubtedly reduce the accidents and save some lives… and remember, the signs are ‘speed limits’ not ‘speed requirements’.

Don’t tail gate – give folks enough room should they need to jump on the anchors, most of us tend to drive as though nothing will ever go wrong and that all our vehicles are running on a rail… but it will and they aint, and the closer we are to that next vehicle greatly reduces our ability to react, especially if we’re driving a truck or pulling a trailer.

Give road rage a miss – seriously… if every one of us just slowed down, backed off and calmed down there would be no need for yelling abuse, flipping the bird or lobbing insults when you get to the next set of lights, not to mention the numerous SOBs that pull out a ‘you’ll-be’ or worse and take serious action into to their own hands.

Don’t park like we own the whole car park – we all know some of these spots can be kinda tight, and some like it that way, but folks also like to be able to open a door when they come to go home at the end of a day, and not have dings in the paintwork.

Don’t litter or even step over trash – sure the first would limit the need for the second, but we all tend to bitch and moan about the mess the place gets in, but someone must have put the rubbish there in the first place. As far as I’m aware there’s no such thing as rubbish tree that flowers overnight and drops it’s leaves daily.  And so if we didn’t drop it in the first place or if we’d take a second to pick that shit up and find a bin… there’d be nothing to bitch about.

Don’t lie or overly bullshit – just tell it the way it is and be honest with folks; yes there are occasions where a little white lie might help the world go around and save someone’s feelings, and I’m cool with that, but that’s where it ends. People just making shit up, mostly to gossip or entertain, but stop it, cut that out. There’s plenty of cool, interesting, strange, weird or wonderful stuff to talk about… and the added bonus is, that it’s all real… fact is almost always stranger than fiction and you never have to worry about remembering your bullshit if you didn’t make it up in the first place.

Don’t steal stuff or take things that don’t belong to us… No matter what, and generally don’t go enriching your existence by profiting off the mistakes, poor judgement, miss fortune or stupidity of others… the absolute joy to behold that it is when you leave ya wallet or purse somewhere by accident and come back to find not only that it’s been handed in or located by someone, but that it hasn’t been cleaned out!!! Sometimes we (you’ll note I didn’t say ‘they’, because this is meant to be all about us…) take the cash and leave all the cards and IDs etc… because that’s the better and less offensive way to rob someone… I call bullshit! if it aint yours, and you know if it is or it isn’t, then leave it the hell alone.

Lastly and by no stretch of anyone’s imagination leastly, but will do for this list, is don’t bully; don’t make fun or generally be a shithead to other people and at their expense – we have all done it, we all do it and to some extent have a part to play in the condoning, encouraging or excepting of it being done to others. We don’t have to like one another and we sure as shit don’t need to love one another, this isn’t a sixties swingers concert nor is it the first day at kindergarten… people aren’t always gonna get along and that’s fine. But we have no idea what sort of a day each other is having and so adding to that with ill-mannered or ill-timed comments can be the straw that breaks poor camel’s fkn back.

We have created a society that while we’re mortified as to how our kids are treated by others at school, in the street or online; and the horrible things OTHER people do to us or to others, we are all playing our part. Our leaders do it to one another to score political points, the media thrive on it and openly lump ridicule or whomevers turn they deem it is to be piled onto for the apparent greater good of society… and it’s all through the television and broader media. I like a good joke as much as the next fella, but some kids are topping themselves because of the shit their class mates are saying about them on social media and we’re all devastated; but the kids didn’t invent this shit… it’s learned behaviour and we all know who the billy lids look up to…. we all know the little ears are always listening and then mirroring our behaviours. Might just be worth trying to be a be a shade more helpful and not so hurtful.

You and I do exist in a time when it is more so about the individual than it is about the mob and while it has allowed us to access more of just about everything and anything our mind desires… it has to an extent seen the human moral compass ossify like never before. We could live a thousand years and we may never see the end of the ever burdening discourse of the human race, and that (to me) is a shame. We, you and I seemed to have somehow fallen out of love with the notion of living happily ever after in a world that we treasure and keeping the promise to pass it on to those that come behind like those that came before us.

We’ve all now identified someone to blame for all our issues and troubles in life and strangely not one of those to blame have the ability to right a single wrong. For these someones are a notion or an ideal and more so a collective or our frustration and not an actual individual. The likes of the government, big business, the lawyers, the cops, the media, the system, the process, the rich, the poor, the do-gooders, the doh-bangers, the bludgers, and the list goes on and on of all those that have apparently made our world increasingly tougher to exist in are just labels. All these groups of people are exactly that, people, just like you and I and perhaps are actually for a great majority, you and I. The ‘them’ and the ‘they’ that we blame for or attribute all the negative sides to human society are just labels for the behaviours inherent in all of us… and I suspect we at some level already know this.

Yet we continue on our way… and I for one can’t help but wonder if we couldn’t all just do a little something; do some really simple little things everyday as we go about our business and just what that might add up to.

The current world population is seven or so billion (and growing all the time) and if each and every one of us did a little something… That’s seven billion little somethings a day, fifty billion a month…

I’ll leave you to do the maths from there, but I think it officially adds up to shitloads!

But let’s get back to the broader question; can you imagine what the world would be like if we all just behaved ourselves?

Well, can ya…

Thanks for reading and for playing along, this has been Black Rat’s backchat and you’re welcome. JM ox

#Do_a_little_something #Live_ya_life #Just_be_human #Do_the_right_thing #Make_someone_proud

I guess the old fella and his approach to life sprang to mind recently as I’ve started to realize time is getting along… he’s still with us and hopefully will be for some time yet, but he got me thinking. I had to front the doctor recently and as was bound to happen – had to get my naked on! Now we’ve all been naked, some more often than others and some manage do it with style… not me though, no way, no sir, not now, not ever… My sawn off, bent up, half broken, country baked & busted, lilly white arse with a cricketers tanned Dad bod has no business, and I mean NO business at all getting naked in front of other folks. Caught a glimpse of my reflection in the doc’s mirror midway through the physical and frightened the living shit outta myself. They should have signs on mirrors like that say’n “Beware, images may be as gross as they appear!”

I jest of course (well not really – I am no Trevor Hendy that’s for damn sure) but it is what it is; my point being that country blokes, mostly more than sheilas, tend to take a little less care of themselves than they ought to and while most are bloody tough individuals… shit catches up with ya. Another old bloke from the Mulga country said to me not that long ago “that we’re too full of red dust and Mulga leaves to see the error of our ways…” and I suspect he’s right. I know I’ve had a few humps and bumps along the way, and I can certainly recall the hiding that dad took and one way or another managed to keep going. Yeah he got broken bones plastered and deep holes stitched up, but otherwise if it wasn’t life threatening, he just got over it. Not straight away of course and he was obviously in enormous pain on many occasions, but he still somehow and with a monotonous regularity just sucked it up, dug deep and went about his business.

This man, my dad, the kid from the UK that came to Australia as a four year old and grew up in Brisbane before transplanting himself to the heart of the Mulga triangle in south west Qld… was and I’m guessing still is, one tough SOB. I can recount many a time when he got busted up or knocked down right in front of us kids or others working in the yards or the paddock and would always get up. He’d find a way to dust himself off, wrap up the wounded section of him, be it a busted hand, broken or dislocated finger etc. and re-join the task at hand. He was never one for pain killers none too much and I don’t think I can once recall him pulling out or standing down because of an injury… and to some extent the apple hasn’t galloped too far from the tree.

As I presented initially half-naked for the doctor and looking a little off the pace for a fully blown physical, I could quickly list the injures and yet to be resolved health issues staring back at me. I had learned from my father and the grand father before him that life gives you nothing for free and I took from that a need to dedicate your time to pushing forward and allowing little if no time for reward or recovery. Now I’m no hero, many years have been spent on good tucker, fizzy drinks and many an alcoholic beverage… but few have been the times that I’ve ever slowed down and truly taken care of myself. I got the priorities a bit muddled up along the way and just like the old fella have focused on what had to be done or what was said would be done, and not so much about the ability to be able to do things for the longer term.

The busted shoulders and scar-covered knees tell a story of motor bikes and cattle yards, chain saws and bulldozers… and while I’m sure if asked if I would do anything differently if time could be revisited, I would say no, I’m just not entirely sure why. The rural industry, the endless struggle and my almost constant relationship with drought there has  developed a battle, a war even to be waged on outback and regional properties which never ends. This unrelenting and often unforgiving modern march of rural folks is conducted at enormous cost, and not just financially, but physically… and as can be expected it’s the boys from the bush that rarely steady up long enough to heal the wounds.

I’m not in it as much as I used to be and on any given day I can provide numerous contradictory sermons on exactly how I feel about that situation; but now, here, today, after this week and the extended review of physical chassis & running gear… I do ponder the net worth of putting yourself in harm’s way so often and then failing to take the time to see yourself recover. If I could speak to all the blokes out there, and the girls of course (but I think y’all know who are the worst offenders), I’d say much the same stuff as the old fella said to me, but I’d caution that you should do as I say, and not as I’ve done.

“DO make the most of what you’ve got… you CAN only play the cards you’ve been dealt… you ARE by all reports a VERY long time dead… and ABSOLUTELY none of us are gett’n outta here alive… BUT, you are not expendable OR invincible… life can be long, but when it’s almost done will seem so very short… and no matter where you’re at on your journey, try to live those days like they may be your last – but do leave a little in the tank for tomorrow”.  I know, all that is kinda half negative but still sort of positive  and philosophical shit… but without your health you ain’t got nothing and so treating your body like it’s dirt bike or a rodeo strap may get the business done in the moment, but that shit has a nasty habit of catching up with ya!

Go hard folks… go early, go often and do what ya gotta do, but while chicks do dig scars, broken bones do heal and most shit does come good… life is for the living, so if ya get a chance… take it easy on ya self.

Thanks folks for reading & for playing along… This is Black Rat’s Back Chat and you’re welcome. JM xo.

First there’s a quick lap through the shower to wake you form your slumber, this though will be an absolute luxury only entertained and tolerated when visitors are on hand; for water is a sparse commodity and the notion of it being wasted in the service of rinsing sleep from tired city folks eyes is a rarity at absolute best. Clothed you’ll be in good time and soon after arrive at the breakfast table. Often it’s dad, father or Boss that starts the brekky shift as mother has consistently spent good time cleaning up after dinner the night before, she’ll also with much regularity have spent the late hours of the evening folding clothes, making lunches or impersonating a rural banker, tax expert and emerging accountant.

Fresh toast stacked at least one loaf high and perhaps one wide will sit centre to the table with butter and home grown eggs alongside. An array of other meat assortments are often made available, rarely cooked ‘bloody as hell’ and more likely to be ‘burnt to a crisp’. There’s plenty of sauce, coffee and tea for you to add to the breakfast plate, as will be the constant invite to “load up!” or “get amongst it”. You will most certainly and I can guarantee that you will surely starve in the outback of Australia if you don’t do as suggested and make the very best effort to look after one’s self. The food will be on offer and there will always be plenty of it; but don’t wait for it to be offered and don’t waste it once its yours, for there is too little time to check if everyone’s happy & content and too much to do rather than pander to newly found house guests.

I suspect strongly that the ABC news will be on the radio with the volume at an surprisingly elevated level. Folks on the land don’t make the news nor do they care for too much gossip, but if there’s a chance that someone will suggest rain is on the horizon or a kick in the wool, crops or livestock markets… they’ll want to hear it. Brekky may commence as early as three AM and could go on for over an hour, followed soon to straight after by wash & dry, filling of water bottles and bagging up of lunches and loading of eskys… The manner in which we navigate these early hours of preparation can often be an enormous determinant as to the quality of the day we have in the paddock. Many a time have I seen a bad day or a crook situation made good by the provision of extra cool or cold water, fresh sammo’s or a treat discovered in the bowels of the esky or lunch box.

I walked a bulldozer out of one side of its tracks one day at the very peak of drought with hundreds of cows stood ready and hungry; and while the surprise of discovering a ‘Mars bar’ in the bottom of the esky did nought for the Brahmans with calves at foot… it rallied me and in turn I them. I took a moment and ate the mars bar, licked the wrapper and sucked my filthy fingers clean. By this stage the machine had cooled and so too my temper; the time had passed and we had sat and thought and pondered a while, before returning to the situation with a few fresh ideas and a little more energy. The tracks were off, but not all the way off, and with some gentle coercion, a steady hand on the throttle and what seemed like a thousand times in and out of the cabin and nudges this way and that… the tracks found their way back into place. We tightened some bolts, greased nipples and joints, dug out leaves, sticks, branches and stumps… and then we went back to work.

These occasions number in the many and I for one know the part that that sugary temptation played and am not too proud to say that for some time after, months even… perhaps years… chocolate was always at the ready when things fell over, fell off or broke down or broke in half. Be it crutching maggoty tailed ewes or dehorning red eyes, welding or running waters, chasing sheep or yarding billy goats, scrubber cattle or tracking cattle duffers; the saviour on that day and others was due to the early morning thought… to be better prepared.   

With water and tucker packed and loaded it’s off for the paddock you’ll eventually depart and into the great unknown of rural and remote enterprise. These ensuing hours will be filled with differing portions of extreme challenges and success, education and reflection. Working on the land, in the elements and with animals, machinery and ever changing and evolving situations is difficult to adjust to… but an absolute joy to experience and something I whole heartedly recommend to all and sundry. This life, on this land for these people is part of the history of this nation for sure, but it is an existence that all are welcome to come, witness and share… so go folks, go now and find your own outback experience… (TO BE CONTINUED)

Thanks for reading & for playing along… This is Black Rat’s Back Chat and you’re welcome. JM xo.

Everyone ya meet has – or at least claims to have – a link to the Aussie outback, and at one stage or another throughout life you either get the inkling or some friendly encouragement to go and explore that part of the world. Sounds good, sounds great even and there should be more of it… the outback is a bloody big place and has done so much for the building of this country, but has grown a bit short on the human head count. More people I say, more people from down inside, from out of the big smoke, from off the beaches and the endless pavements should put a knot in their swag, load up the motor car and get amongst it. But be careful though, the true outback where all this marvellous motivation is meant to lead you is not that easy a place to find, nor survive in. I recently read a thing published on the Outback Australia travel guide web site that spoke in some detail about seven things that can kill you in the aussie outback. These were Snakes (yep!), Spiders (definitely), Crocks (in some parts), Serial Killers (on occasion), the Desert (certainly), Ayers Rocks (if ya fell off it I guess) and the Sun (hell yeah! Hot that bastard!). Then they added an eighth … and that being ‘common sense’, or the lack there of it (spot on!).

So that’s eight things that will kill you in the outback… plus there’s next door to no bugga there to help you out when the shit hits the fan, so be sure to take a friend along with you… only thing worse than being lost, dead or dying in the bush… is to be doing that on your own! You don’t want to get all motivated, pack up ya crap and head off on a bold new adventure, only to come unstuck and not be able to get yourself through it and home safe and sound. Be it for a holiday, a lifestyle change, a new direction in career or just a mad dash into the wilderness… just remember, ‘ya a long time dead – so don’t rush – and safety first!’  

Once you’ve packed up, fuelled up and manned up… it’s time to get on the road, and you best get comfortable because going anywhere in the country side means one thing, travel… lots and lots of travel. You’ve gotta get there, you’ve got to survive while you’re out there and then you have to get home again… and for the folks that call the outback home, it’s a never-ending and bloody constant adventure… that they/we call life. A life where travel is a challenge, but it is also essential… you’re on our patch now and many of the things that we take for granted and see as essential to getting around in the more populated areas of this great nation, are few and far between.. if at all. Street signs are very few and far between, mobile signal in most parts is patchy at best and so the old GPS is bound to struggle. Country folks, if & when ya find ‘em will help you out for sure and always point you in the right direction (unless they’re one of those serial killing, axe wielding, body burying mad bastards from up in the NT)…

Anyways, they did mention on the travel site as part of the summary that ‘because the continent is so empty’… a lot of the other seven or eight ways to die in the bush were so bloody common… and on that one I fully agree. She is a big old empty country for the most part… empty of people that is, but not so empty of shit that will end you. I’ve had a bit to do with a few of those nasties on the  ‘killya dead list’, not all (thank F!) but a few… Then again, as they say, ‘you’ll never ever know, if ya never have a go!’ So grab the tool box and the fishing rod, throw on some leather boots and comfortable travelling mocker, prep the ute and brief the family or traveling companion… it’s travelin’ time

So with the challenge excepted, port on the roof and at least three spare tyres bolted to the back, you’ll set off for what should in most cases be the absolute time of your life… as long as it doesn’t end ya life (I’m kidding – you’ll survive). Once on the road be sure to drive with purpose, steer straight and brake early… this is going to be exciting.

Starting with errant kangaroos, emus, wild pigs, crazy sheep or bullock headed cattle of all shapes, sizes, breeds and colours criss-crossing the road at all hours of the day and night, often at pace like unmanned and unguided missiles, making just getting from A to B into what can be a death-defying physical and mental challenge. Add to this the imposing site and occasional need for passing hundred metre long road trains carting thousand kilo bullocks or thousands of litres of oil or fuel charging towards or up behind you doing at least a dollar. For most folks this is where the driving in the outback starts to get pretty serious.

Now not forgetting for a moment that once you get a couple of hundred clicks inland from which ever coast you may be departing the quality of the roads often declines while the distance and travel times between towns only increases. You’ll need plenty of fuel, a big arse esky, bloody gallons of drinking water… and don’t forget to bolt something pretty solid to the front grill, I’ve hit a few things in my day (on the road that is) and even with a four or five post bulbar & matching side rails… some of the wild life hits pretty hard.

So moving on… having spent many hours and in some cases days trapped in the vehicle and navigating the Aussie bushland and countless back roads your journey draws to a close. You have survived the trip north, south, east or west and arrived safety at your chosen destination, be it for work, pleasure, travels or games… the real test of human V’s ‘outback’ now begins. You step out of the vehicle without appropriate footwear and quickly find you’ve buried a three pronged goat head burr into the heel of your foot, and while often easy enough to remove the pain of the injury incurred will remain long after. Be it bare foot, simple sandal or even the mighty aussie thong are all soon helpless to the sheer brutality of the man-killing goat head.

And while you steady yourself and attempt to regain some composure, you may soon find yourself set upon by the land owners’ station dogs who double as both guard dogs and fearless attack merchants on any unsuspecting visitor. While most of these hounds are more likely to be kelpies or some variation of sheep dog, what they lack in visible stature, they easily make up for in outright aggression. In some instances and this is very much a case by case scenario you’ll find a mixture of dogs loitering around the station oasis and family homestead, ranging from bitser-bloody-everything type pig dogs and cattle dogs right through to hairy house dogs and garden ferrets. Bush dogs are often like back yard welding jobs, ugly as hell but strong as steel.       

With the family or added extras still trapped in the car and you bouncing from one burr filled foot to the other and with assorted pan lickers nipping at your heals or hanging from your pant legs, you attempt to cross the open space from your vehicle to the garden fence. Should you be lucky enough to not be confronted, intercepted and or assaulted by pet goats, poddy calves, hungry-gutted lambs or home raised feral pigs you may arrive and access through the front gate. At this stage and with the assortment of attack animals left behind you could not be blamed for regaining a certain level of confidence as you now approach the house and look for a welcome or introduction.

Should you though have arrived unannounced, a little earlier or later than expected or at the wrong entrance to the homestead… your troubles have only just begun. Be it daylight or dark, midday or dead of night in some instances you may find yourself confronted (welcomed as well) by a surprised Cocky! And let me tell you, there are few things on this earth or in this land as fearsome and unyielding as a pissed off Cocky wielding a 410 snake gun and sporting a 357 or 44 magnum handgun stuffed down the jeans or tucked into the shorts. My old man has welcomed many a lost opal miner or over-zealous pig shooter at the back door with hand cannon locked and loaded… he’s done same in the middle of the night without a stich of clothing on… and I can’t say for sure what was more terrifying, the loaded hand gun aimed front and centre or the fact that is was being carried by a buck naked white man with the worst cricketer’s tan you’ve ever seen.

With introductions now complete and a certain level of normality returned and hospitality extended, you manage to retrieve the family from the car and proceed inside to the safety of the country homestead. Be aware that many a not-so-friendly Joe Blake the snake has often found his or her way inside, into the house, into the bed rooms and on some occasions, the bed of both local and visitor. The result of this definitely uninvited guest has ranged from extreme fright to death… death of both man or woman and slippery intruder. Some of the houses have been around for many a decade and everything from unlevelled floors, doors that refuse to shut and last century wiring can add to the experience and enrichen your stay, or see you frightened, fried or fragile.

You’ll dine at the big table on home grown, home caught, home killed & cooked everything and wash it down with beer, cordial and endless cups of tea. The veggies will be fresh, the meat will be tender and the serving a size to be remembered. Country people work as hard as they need to and that is often harder than most would even consider, and they do it with a monotonous regularity. This enviable work ethic requires fuel, lots of fuel, hence the size of the meals and the frequency of the smokos and the quality of the spread. Should your timing by spot or dumb luck fall your way, you may be fortunate enough be involved in the weekly or monthly kill, be it sheep, goat, pig or cow… and on some occasions… all of the above. In some instances this will come in the form of a well-planned and equally well executed mission resulting in the humanely orchestrated demise and careful butchering of the required food stock. In some other and mostly rare instances you may be exposed to a wild and somewhat frantic bush kill, an exercise that still results in the death of said animal and the presentation of meat to cold room for chilling down or cooking up… it’s just the quality of the journey from paddock to plate that may differ.

Managing not to get gut shot in the paddock, run over by retreating kill or knifed in the dissection of beef or mutton; you can comfortably take part in the retrieval of home grown veggies from the patch by the house. Being sure to avoid the spiders hidden under leafy foliage or other Joe Blakes tucked away, always keeping one eye on the nearby river bank of straying crocks brave enough to approach the civilised settlement. Dinner will be served once again and your safety for now assured. With beers imbibed, tucker devoured and with you taking on both appearance and sensation of a stuffed pig or poisoned pup, you retreat to your room for rest and recovery. Not a day’s work completed or single goal achieved other than remaining, in some way… alive. (TO BE CONTINUED…)  

Thanks folks for reading & for playing along… This is Black Rat’s Back Chat and you’re welcome. JM xo.