Captain fires Captain


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Well I for one would like to offer my sincere regrets at the firing of the Captain that has been faithfully flying Mr Trump and his entourage around and showing to the masses just what they can all achieve with a little bit of effort and a great many lawyers. He is, of course, not trained for Airforce 1 and so is now surplus to requirements. I gather he was ‘let go’ via a tweet but with one last duty, that being to fly the thing to the plane bone-yard and hitch a ride back in the back of an indigenous Navaho’s truck. He was, of course, not alone in praying that his boss would fail in his bid to become part of the world’s laughing stock of leaders like Putin, Duterte, and Theresa May. In so doing he knew he was to be eliminated from the ranks of the employed because he is under a 463 page employment agreement forbidding him to ever talk to another human being let alone work for an airline. Mind you, saying “Good morning, this is President’s Trumps ex captain flying you this morning on a short hop to Crapsville Tennessee,” might end in a mid air disaster worthy of the TV series Air Crash investigations. “It was eventually found that the Captain had had his throat cut with a plastic knife courtesy of woman in business class who was aggrieved at the political outcome of the election. Next week, we ask ‘how did President Trump get the installation of a round waterbed into Airforce 1 through the FAA.” Nope the poor ol’ Captain is on the beach until either Trump is shot, is impeached or 4-8 years are up. With no Obarmacare to look after him and assist in him getting over his complete loss of self worth and value to the community, he may well take the easy way out in a winged suit from the top of Trump Towers.

Of course he might wake up to the fact that the 6 million Mexicans that are in need to deporting could be another potential use for the Trump jet although a paint job would be on the cards. The only trouble with that is the return flight would be empty with very little freight opportunities either so unless the government pays for a return ticket the economics do not bode well. Perhaps some of the old TV contestants could give him some advice, probono of course. Either way Airforce 1 is up for a facelift if Mrs Trump has her say and her interior designer from Slovenia gets his hands on things. I hope they have a seat out of the way for their son, what they put him through the other night needs to be looked at by The Hague, it was torture by TV. Those looks of worry, the need to pick his nose and not do it then try to do it without the cameras noticing was a clear state of panic about the man who was doing all the talking. Who was he? He wasn’t his father that’s for sure I mean his father has never said a conciliatory thing in his life and yet, there he was saying how he admired his adversary when just that morning he was promising to put her in front of a firing squad picked from the North Carolina Local Militia who he was going to charge a grand each for the privilege! The little man needs a shrink and soon, he needs to be prep’d for what lies ahead with how to air-kiss being the first thing on the agenda but I guess his siblings can get him up tp speed with that skill. Still it is going to bugger up his prom when all he will really want to do is do as his Dad did and grab his dance partner by her cat which seems odd to the poor fellow but it sounded very Presidential. Did he have to give her a cat instead of the corsage which he thought was the go at such posh events. Anyway time enough for that, all he want in his cabin is a kick-arse plasma screen and an infinite selection of Apps. Someone is going to need to find one that involves a football so he can help out his old man that’s for sure.

Ah well, Such is life. Until the next time, this is Brodie Goozée.

Get It? (Find out at the end)

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Welcome.  Well what a week this has been and has yet to be with Titans doing battle all over the place.  Trump/Clinton in the ol’ US of A and on Saturday the Doggies and Swanies in for the mutual kill at our AFL Grand Final, a game not understood at all outside the antipodes.  It’s like that South American ultra-fast game with a ball, wall and scoop; thrilling for the locals but for outsiders, well acquired taste comes to mind. Trump/Clinton on the other hand, we can all understand; well we think we can.  For me it continues to gobsmack me how something so conceptually simple as one man, one vote first-past-the-post good ol’ fashioned Greek Democracy can be made so impossibly complicated by a Nation who had all the thinking time in the world to divest themselves of the Brits and start with a clean sheet!  Caucuses, Primaries, Colleges, I mean..’what th’’ is that all about.  Then there seems to be placard carrying people who can swing faster than a mature party in Miami! And then there is the money; clearly Marshall McLuhan was on the money when he coined the phrase The Medium is the Message because over eighty million and one people watched the Great Debate (me being the one and I don’t think the pollsters knew that I was actually watching because they didn’t call).  This was Number One, the First of Three and, so we are told, Clinton sort of won.  But did she?  Oh the intellectuals, the do-gooders, the thinkers, Les Résonables, the Latte Lesbian Left or whatever the latest ‘Culcha Vulcha’ trendies movement as defined by the Demographers Dictionary suggests, they clearly understand Ms Clinton and forgive her email cleansing faux pas and cannot understand how anyone can imagine Trump as having ‘The Right Stuff’. But, when you look at ‘The Map’ that sorts out the States/Colleges/Primaries/and Caucuses, well why then is there such an even split?  Could it possibly be that America, the greatest social experiment in the last 300 years, is not the crucible for intellectual thought, creative illumination, and seat of scientific learning but a bull-pit where winners are grinners, climbing on the carcases commercially deceased and having the same attitude as the Greeks to the concept of taxation.  Could it possibly be that Les Résonables are in fact Les Misérables , the flotsam that has been down trodden by the Wannabe Riche Classes who hold wealth to be the only true God and you only get that when you have a benevolent White God in the second row of the deity stakes.  Are we about to see The Great Dictator rise to the pampering of the best seat in the house, White of Course, because he is reaching deep into the gene pool that can genuinely imagine the possibility of having a Kardashian on each arm?  Are we about to witness the rise of the Trumpeters akin to the military classes of the German uprising where the populous will attack the intelligentsia in swarms like Brown Shirts but in denim and Stetsons?  Will the gun rule at long last and the Trumpeters kept amused with permission-to-kill tickets and fed on a diet of Burgers and Moonshine?  America will be Great again, well within its own boarders of course, let’s not get too silly here.  We outsiders will watch Reality TV wondering if the Host, Mr Trump of course, will press ‘that button’ just because he can and watch the audience scream in rapture as the trails of ICBMs fountain out of the mid-west’s somnolent pastures and start the end.

“I have a dream” is more like a night-terror and Civil War comes to mind and whereas the military classes of old, in all jurisdictions, the police included were the gentle servants of the people, the next phase will be just the opposite.  When you have hundreds of thousands of quasi-military trained bloodstock to energise you have a potent underclass, primed to be given the authority to take as long as they pledge allegiance to The Great Dictator.

Round Two, we are told, will be the round where the gloves come off, where the underbelly of collective corruption will be unzipped for the Best Ratings Ever!  Will Trump ever actually finish a thought and make a full and complete statement?  Will Clinton wilt under the spotlight of Mr Clinton’s appetites for the internals of interns?  See you same time, same bat channel.  Oh and did you get the picture?  Dic-Tator silly


Such is life.  Until the next time this is Brodie Goozée

In the Australian vernacular, Cop You Later

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This is my 125 podcast, each 2 minutes longs, that is 250 minutes or a shade over 4 hours of murmurs, meanderings and musings. I set out to see if a 2 minute audio ‘chunk’ was an ideal ‘listen-to’ length. I never got an answer to that question but it seems that some have held fast to the model so I will say it is, at least, not too long to bore people to death. Its time to hang up my microphone because I am getting stale and searching for ideas in an information landscape that is getting repetitive. When that happens, you start to impose yourself upon your audience. I have had 2500 plus listens which is most rewarding but it works out to less than 10 a day. I am also a little jaded about the stories, most of them based in things that anger me, disappoint me or frustrate me. The wit, such as it is, may have entertainment value but only in endorsing what is wrong with the world not what it right. Larry, who listens, constantly, is forever sharing things in his space that are about beauty and wonder, he promotes the good in life with only an occasional tilt at the stupid and ignorant. I admire that perspective, it is based upon light rather than darkness. I have read pages from all of my followers and many of my ‘likers’ and the majority focus on the wonder of life, the planet and the journey. Sure you have ups and downs but the ‘ups’ win hands down. So this is it well in terms of Such is Life. I guess that says it all really, the last words of Ned Kelly, the Irish Australian rogue with a Robin Hood flair; the resignation, the sense that ‘in the end it all comes down to…’ Without realizing it I picked a title that best fitted my own character, one of ‘resignation’. Well I am not going to resign, I am going to somehow get of my posterior and do something, what that something is, I haven’t the faintest idea but my time is running out and I am not going to waste it by complaining. So thank you, each and every one of you. My comet came into your orbit for a little and now is swinging of into the great mystery. Who knows I might send in a signal from time to time.

Please, whatever you do, take care out there.

With love and thanks


This has been Brodie Goozée

REVLON and KIISFM you almost made me vomit my breakfast


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There was a time when I was in advertising and part of advertising was media buying. Advertising directors and managers asked the buyers to purchase specific spots on television, before the news, during the footy, wherever the media buyer thought he or she had a captive audience with the type of demographic that would purchase the product and the networks were sensible too. If, for example, on the News there was a report of an air crash, they would ‘pull’ a booked Qantas ad because it made sense, it was obvious, it was insensitive. The Net News doesn’t work like that is seems and I hope that someone passes this onto Revlon and KIIS 101FM. If you know anyone in either of these organizations then tell them they need to get their act together. So, I was looking into the story of another sick execution of a prisoner, one about the Japanese hostages claiming a video purports to show the beheading of one hostage. They never show the footage of the terrible deed but give the essence of what took place. I click and have to, if I want to watch this important news article, watch Revlon with some commercial about being addicted to love. Then comes the report and this is followed up immediately with a quick grab about the ‘hilarious’ duos on 101FM. Now there will be an explanation like it happens by machine these days, computers just do it. Well Revlon and 101 KISS FM you can KISS goodbye to any support from this solitary and not terribly important might be one day a customer person. But I am going to tell my friend Jacki who has a great radio show called Taking Care of Business and you can bet your bippi (there is it again godamn it) she will look into it. In all seriousness though I felt physically sick at the total lack of empathy for the story by the advertisers.

Well such is life.

Until the next time this is Brodie Goozée

Doe gets her dough on 7 but 9 gets 10…Oh Brother!


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Remember my appraisal of Marcia Mikhael desiring not to be insulted, well you will be pleased to know she wasn’t, indeed she is reputed to have been given $350,000 for her take on ‘what its like to be a hostage’ the thrilling inside story paid by the local TV channel 7 who trumped Channel Nine’s 300 grand offering. But don’t feel sorry for Chanel 9, they have their own ‘special’ with no less than a quorum of hostages including the one they all really wanted, Julie Taylor, the one reputed to have been saved by Katrina Dawson. So we are going to have the story of the body builder with her ample accoutrements who really shouldn’t have been there at the time because chocolate was not really good for her diet versus the ‘big 10’. I can only hope the other lot got the same, that would be 3.5 mill for their heart stopping, tear jerking emotional gut wrenching expose. You have got to love the Australian public because these media folk are not stupid, they know a thing or two about the Aussie psyche but would not be much good as spotting an opportunity in Norway. Norway has become the epicenter of ‘slow’ TV with a 7 hour documentary showing a train journey and it was so popular, they did one about a ferry and the ratings have been wonderful and what’s more what does it cost to put a gopro on the front of a train, not 3.5 big ones you can bet your bippy (there is that damnable bippy again, what is it!) No we are going to be witness the real Ozzie character, welcome to a country that IS Big Brother and proud of it. We love ourselves, we love people to love us and we love fame, were not much good at anything so grab what we can, whenever we can and work it to death. Such is life. Until for the next time this is Brodie Goozée