The Angry Exile: More lunacy from Tasmania.

The Hangman

Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.
The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.
And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.
And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."
And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief
And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.
And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.
And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."
He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."
Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"
And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.
That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;
Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"
And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."
The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"
The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."
And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.
The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all
For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.
He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.
And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.
"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.
For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"
"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."
Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Maurice Ogden

Monday, 27 July 2009

More lunacy from Tasmania.

Guess what they want to ban in Tassie now.

Go on...

Given up yet? Okay, I'll tell you. 18th and 21st birthday parties. I am seriously not making this shit up.

YOUNG Tasmanians will no longer be allowed 18th and 21st birthday parties if Labor accepts a controversial proposal.

The Beltana branch of the party wants the State Government to do away with the traditional 18th and 21st bashes that often end in drunken violence and under-age drinking.

Oh for fuck's sake. If it's not the Tasmanian Liberals being, er, illiberal, it's the bloody Labour Party. So what do these fucking clowns suggest Tasmanian teens do to celebrate their majority instead.

"In recognition that many former traditional ceremonies of transition to adulthood -- such as 21st birthday celebrations, debutante balls and national military service -- are no longer widespread in society or accorded the degree of significance by families and communities as in former times, the conference asks the State Government to commission an examination of possible new modern civic community celebrations," the branch proposition says.

It proposes a certificate for reaching the age milestones...

A certificate? Whoopee! That'll get them queuing up. A party or a certificate. Hmmmmm, that's a toughie. Thinking back to when I turned 18, would I have opted for a certificate instead of marking the occasion by legally buying my old man a pint and having a party later?

Would I fuck, even with a ceremony. This is the dumbest idea to come out of Tasmania since, er...

... and, following on from a suggestion by the Liberals last week, the ceremony may even be linked to when teenagers get their chance at a driver's licence -- if they have shown responsible behaviour.

... yeah, that suggestion from the Liberals. Just a quick reminder, fellas:

Liberal

Adjective
1. Showing or characterized by broad-mindedness; "a broad political stance"; "generous and broad sympathies"; "a liberal newspaper"; "tolerant of his opponent's opinions".
2. Having political or social views favoring reform and progress.
3. Tolerant of change; not bound by authoritarianism, orthodoxy, or tradition.
4. Given or giving freely; "was a big tipper"; "the bounteous goodness of God"; "bountiful compliments"; "a freehanded host"; "a handsome allowance"; "Saturday's child is loving and giving"; "a liberal backer of the arts"; "a munificent gift"; "her fond and openhanded grandfather".
5. Not literal; "a loose interpretation of what she had been told"; "a free translation of the poem".

Noun
1. A person who favors a political philosophy of progress and reform and the protection of civil liberties.
2. A person who favors an economic theory of laissez-faire and self-regulating markets.

As I've said before, I don't see "bossy bastards who like to set everyone else rules to live by" in there anywhere. This just seems like the fucking Liberals and the fucking ALP trying to outwhore each other for votes from the kind of tedious pricks who hate anyone who knows how to fucking enjoy themselves, just the way the Tories and ~~IngSoc~~ NuLab have been doing in the UK, and for that* I despise them all.

But to get down with the kids for a moment, how do teenage Tasmanians feel about it?

Hobart teenager Maggie Bold, who coincidentally was preparing to attend an 18th birthday party last night when she spoke with the Mercury, said the idea had merit.

Oh God, someone pass me a bottle of whisky and a shotgun. That's just too depressing for words. Oh, but wait (my bold):

Maggie will celebrate her 18th on August 12 and was planning a quiet dinner with friends but has been coaxed into having a party.

"I don't think we should stop having big parties, it should be a person's individual choice, but if people want to attend a community event they should be allowed to," she said.

"So it's not such a bad idea perhaps."

Thank fuck for that. "Individual choice", yes, exactly. As for your cautious support for ceremonies and community events, Maggie, let me tell you that people who become Aussies instead of being born Aussie get that sort of thing when they get their citizenship certificate. You stand up with everyone else about to be officially Aussie and take the oath, and afterwards you get your certificate and a small pot plant. Don't get excited, it's just a plant that comes in a pot. Hey look, if that grips your shit for how to have a good time turning 18 or 21 in Tasmania then there's nothing stopping you. But to make it the only option? Jesus Christ, even the fucking wallabies there are on Class A drugs and apparently "they seem to know when they've had enough" - the least you can do is let teenagers have parties. Sure, some will be irresponsible and get out of hand, but that's what the police are for, right? Why not just nick the troublemakers and let the responsible remainder enjoy themselves.

What is it with Tasmania at the moment?

*Among other things of course.

5 comments:

JuliaM said...: "I am seriously not making this shit up."

Someone commented at my blog the other day that he has to doublecheck that he isn't reading the 'Onion' or 'Daily Mash' sometimes.

Now, I know how he felt...

What makes these people feel perfectly OK about seriously suggesting these things? Were they dropped on their heas as babies.

If not, maybe they should have been.; 28 July 2009 at 03:08
Angry Exile said...: Yes, I've had that same sensation of typing out something so mad that it really does seem like a spoof. I've no idea if they were dropped on their heads as babies but I think the main reason is simply trying to outwhore each other for the NIMBY vote. Or just because they're repellant authoritarian shitemunchers who get hard ons telling other people what to do all the time.

Is it worth trying dropping them on their heads now, do you think? Might not fix anything in their heads but if we can get them to land face first a broken jaw will at least make them shut the fuck up for a while.; 28 July 2009 at 03:25
Dick Puddlecote said...: Good grief. Even NuLab wouldn't dream up anything so silly ... would they?

(though I wouldn't put it past Lardy Liam Donaldson to suggest it).; 28 July 2009 at 21:40
Dick Puddlecote said...: One other point, I seem to remember from an uncle of mine who lives in Brisbane, that Aussies tell Tassie jokes like we (used to be allowed to) tell Irish jokes?

Is this true? If so, initiatives like this make for easy comedic target practice.; 28 July 2009 at 21:42
Angry Exile said...: I'd heard Tasmania and New Zealand were interchangeably the butt of the same sort of jokes the English tell about the Irish, Welsh or even parts of England itself that are supposedly a bit backward. Funnily enough though I've not actually heard any Tasmanian or Kiwi jokes. Some comedians on a TV show the other day were having a pop at Adelaide and I heard a joke about Adelaide Crows supporters, so maybe the target has changed.; 28 July 2009 at 23:55