God
is my getaway driver, I shall not want
17
March 1999
Saturday
morning dawned mean, humid and streaky-grey. A weak shaft of light struggled
in through the big skylight I'd installed years ago -- part of the renovations
I never finished. Joadja went down to pick up the papers, but I rolled
over and went back to sleep. When I opened my eyes about an hour later,
Jo was propped up reading the Herald..
"Terrible
business this, on Ambon. Christians and Moslems hacking each other to
death with machetes in the name of God. Only the army and the ruling
families can feel happy about this." she muttered.
"That's
the funny thing about God", I said, "For someone that's supposed
to be all-powerful and all-knowing, he regularly fails to clear up misunderstandings
arising in his name."
I
drifted off again and beheld a pale horse. And his name that sat on
him was religious and ethnic hatred. They ruled over about a quarter
of the world at last count and Hell followed and only the Dow Jones
index laughed. There was also the wormwood problem. About a third part
of the waters had been polluted with the stuff and many died of the
waters, because they were made bitter ...
"Hey,
wake up. You're gibbering stuff from the Book of Revelations
again. Speaking of God, guess who's running on the Liberal ticket for
the Upper House?" Jo said excitedly.
"I
Dunno. Saint Augustine? L. Ron Hubbard? The Reverend Samuel Marsden?"
"They're
dead."
"Wouldn't
make a difference, so are half the people in the Upper House."
"Do
you remember young Tony Dennison?"
No,
that couldn't be right. She must be kidding.
"You're
kidding? You don't mean the Koori armed holdup man. Did time twice.
Five years of a 13 year sentence the first time, five years of a 12
year sentence the next?"
I
sat bolt upright and focussed on the photo she thrust under my whiskers.
There was Tony on the happy side of the chain link fence at Long Bay,
looking fat and prosperous and holding a big black Bible or maybe his
Filofax.
"Yeah,
he's found God", Joadja said. "Says he literally saw the light.
He was lying injured in the bullrushes as the cops closed in. Now he's
a Pentecostal Christian and he owns a security company in Moree. Tough
on Aboriginal crime. Says here he reckons Labor has fostered an Aboriginal
welfare industry riddled with corruption, cronyism, nepotism and incompetence.
That sounds like the way the major parties pick their candidates."
"And
it's the line on Aboriginal organisations that John Howard's white trash
intelligentsia have been running for years ... not to mention One Nation.
The irony is, if the Liberals' current law and order policy had applied
back then, Tony Dennison would still be pumping iron in the exercise
yard and he wouldn't be running for the Liberals or badmouthing a bunch
of other Koories who spent their time more productively", I replied,
sliding down and pulling the blanket over my head.
"And
you know the whole setup is pretty racist anyway", Jo said. "The
Coalition can say they've got a black on their team, but he's 12th on
a 15-member ticket, so there's almost no chance he could get a guernsey.
Just the ticket: a black, god-bothering, reformed criminal who won't
embarrass you by actually getting in."
"Great
story. Who wrote it anyway?" I muttered.
"Paul
Sheehan."
I
sat bolt upright. Jo was giggling.
"You
bastard ... you are joking this time, aren't you?"
She
shook her head and pushed the paper towards me again. It was Paul Sheehan.
Paul Among the Barbarians Sheehan -- the doyen of the anti-political
correctness mafia.
"Did
he get time off for good behaviour too?" I asked.
______________
See also Among
the barbarians (Nick Possum and the Victims of Political Correctness
Inc.)
INCLUDED
in Whispers from the mean streets
-- Best of 1999
FREE downloadable
PDF booklet.