On Anzac Day, I thought I would perform my patriotic duty by posting the first part of my ruminations on free speech, written in consideration of two expats’ recent exploits in New Zealand who, between them (a racist xenophobe and a courageous refugee), epitomised both the very best and the very worst of the Australian character.
You can read it here.
Or, on a day when we are supposed to remember people who have been killed by other people—but at best we cry crocodile tears for the unburied dead with names etched in stone, whose surviving mates returned to sleep in the shade of such stone; if they were lucky—you can read a little bit more than names about people killed in the relevant recent events here instead.
Lest we forget we’ve always been a nation of toadies.