Skip to main content

Elderly live in fear!!!

I have endeavoured to warn the world of the threat posed by rampaging wallabies previously on this blog, but did people listen? Of course they didn't!

Some people seem to think that just because they're little, furry, cuddly and herbivores, wallabies are not brutal, godless killing machines. Thank the lord for the good folk in the proud state of Queensland (for our American friends, think Texas, only with cane toads, corruption and slow talking).

One of the world's most respected newspapers, The Townsville Bulletin, has lifted the lid on the murky morass that is the moral quagmire of the elderly/marsupial relationship in the Smart State in the year 2008.

As the bold graphic in the Bulletin piece says, these cold blooded killers are stalking seniors! Consider these terrifying facts people:
  • Faeces left on patios, with residents opening their back doors and stepping in it!
  • A vision impaired old dear was innocently hanging clothes on the washing line, only to discover a wallaby standing next to her!!!
As Carlyle Gardens resort manager Leigh Bradley says: "residents do not need that, they need to be safe."

It really is only a matter of time before one of these rogue beasts kills somebody. I for one would support any proposal to arm the elderly residents of Townsville (particularly the vision impaired), with semi-automatic weapons in order to enhance the quality of life and keep the streets safe from these menacing marsupials.

Comments

smudgeon said…
They're just as bad as them sex-crazed wombats! No wonder I never leave the house un-chaperoned...
USelaine said…
Ghastly! Perhaps it would encourage progress if good wallaby recipes were circulated.
At least you don't have to put up with the murderous giant hissing cockroaches. Imagine an elderly person slipping on the slimy guts of one of those and cracking their head on the patio!
I parked my motorcycle right above the proverbial banana skin today (really, and it had a whole slippery banana inside it, too), but I didn't call the cops to arrest it for threatening my well-being!
I wonder if wallabies go well with cockroaches and bananas, we might be on to soemthing.
Thanks for sounding the alert! It sounds very dangerous in a cut, fuzzy, sort of way.
alice said…
It's very frustrating for me to be not able to well understand what you write on this blog...I get the main meaning but I don't get the subtleties, what a pity.
But I do appreciate your comments about my little photos, easier isn't it? ;-)
Anonymous said…
I do like your concern for us elderly folk. I am all for the remedies you outlined but I would, for one, at least, prefer a hand gernade or a stick of dynamite. Not to do so much damage to the animal but to wake up the neighbors.
Anonymous said…
Your labels made me laugh as much as the actual post.
Anonymous said…
...so they f$cking should.
Kris McCracken said…
Me, it is a vicious and brutal land, Australia...

USelaine, I don’t mind wallaby, but it is very much on the gamey side. Better than possum though.

Mary, I have yet to see a cockroach here in Tasmania. They do have them further north though. I like the idea of a banana/cockroach/wallaby smoothie. As long as it was organic!
Kris McCracken said…
Boise Diva, the worst I reckon that they’d do was accidently trip you over.

Alice, me, subtle?!? I do see what you mean though. I don’t mind the odd bit of word play, and that must be tricky in a second language. I like your photos though!

Abe, you’re on to something. Guns alone aren’t another grenades and trench mortars will probably work best!
Kris McCracken said…
Jackie, I’m starting to loosen up with my labels. I was very rigid before, but now am relaxing. They’re my labels after all!

Hallam, I was waiting for that...

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.