The gripping title is quoted from blogger Alison Bevege, from her Letters from Australia, which could also be called, "Letters from a Socialist Tyranny." She observes, reflecting on the Covid plandemic, that laws have been enacted to protect "the bureaucracy from all consequences of their actions, leaving them - and their identities - insulated fro...

Here is a good example of how American debates and issues are relevant to us here in Australia, mainly given the appalling lack of critical accounts given by our lamestream media. It seems the communist China has passed a law requiring EVERY Chinese national to report back on intelligence they've gathered. No, I never read about this in the Austral...

Leftist George Monbiot, a Guardian columnist has written about how six young women were having tea and biscuits in the Quaker meeting house in Westminster, when 20 police officers forced open the door and arrested them on conspiracy charges. They were part of a protest group called Youth Demand concerned with Gaza and climate change, and the conspi...

Writer Sarah Stocks has given a highly readable refutation of five stereotypes that have been pushed about white people: 1.White people are racist 2.White people are mass shooters 3.White people have no good food 4.White people are inbred 5.White people have no culture I will not summarise the refutation of these points, as all five are absurd, and...

At a country dawn service last year, I stood shoulder to shoulder with Vietnam War mates, the Southern Cross above and a wooden Cross glowing in the half-light. As the bugle sounded for fallen Diggers, the pastor read of another sacrifice—Christ on the hill of Golgotha, giving all for love. Two stories, one truth: sacrifice defines us. Easter and A...

There's a quiet power in the words we hear each Anzac Day: "At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them." It's not just ceremony. It's something deep in the bones of our national story. Something sacred. We remember the young men who stormed the cliffs of Gallipoli. The nurses who tended the dying in muddy field hospital...

There are two moments in the Aussie calendar that call us to stop, reflect, and remember. Easter… and Anzac Day. One speaks of a rugged hill outside Jerusalem. The other of the cliffs of Gallipoli. One gives us the Cross. The other, the Southern Cross, draped across the shoulders of the fallen. Different times. Different places. But both speak of s...

Out here in the wide brown land we call home, Easter often means long weekends, backyard barbies, footy on the telly, and maybe a cheeky chocolate egg or two. It's a time for families, fresh air, and taking a breather from the daily grind. And there's nothing wrong with that. But underneath the sunshine and tradition, there's a deeper story we're a...

 Stand at an ANZAC dawn service, and you feel it—the Cross and the slouch hat, bound by sacrifice. Easter's story, Christ dying and rising, wasn't just a sermon for our diggers; it was their fire at Gallipoli, Kokoda, beyond. Blokes in trenches clutched rosaries, said prayers, and faced hell with faith in their guts. That Christian spirit—love...

Walk into an Aussie school just before Easter, and what do you see? No crosses, no hymns—just "spring festivals" with bunnies and "diversity" posters. The woke brigade's got our kids' classrooms in a chokehold, swapping the Resurrection for feel-good fluff that'd make Jesus weep. From Perth to Parramatta, schools are ditching Easter's Christian sou...

Easter's not just a holiday—it's a middle finger to the Left! While woke warriors try to bury Australia's faith under secular sludge and identity politics, the Cross stands tall, shouting truth they can't handle. Christ's sacrifice and resurrection aren't up for debate, no matter how hard the Left pushes "spring vibes" or "diversity days" to gut Ea...

Easter should be Australia's pride—church bells ringing, families praying, the Cross flying high. Instead, it's a battleground, with cultural Marxism swinging the wrecking ball. Born in the 1960s, this secular poison's been eating at our Christian heart ever since, turning holy days into hollow ones. It's not just about bunnies or banned crosses—it...

Easter's here, and what's Australia got? Aisle after aisle of chocolate eggs, glinting in foil like some sugary siren call. Kids are bouncing, parents are broke, and the big supermarkets are laughing all the way to the bank. Sound holy? Hardly. These chocolate bombs aren't Easter—they're a secular scam, a far cry from the painted eggs my Nan used t...

Picture a Sunday in 1960s Australia. The sun's up, church bells ring, and families in their best gear stroll to St. Mary's or the local hall for worship. Pubs are shut tight—blokes might grumble, but they're home, carving the roast with the kids underfoot. Neighbours pop by, yarns spin, and the wireless hums hymns, not ads. That was our Sabbath: Je...

I'm eighty-five now, born in 1940, and every Easter, I close my eyes and I'm a girl again in our little weatherboard in Bendigo. The air smells of Mum's hot cross buns, and Dad's tuning the wireless for the church broadcast. We'd walk to St. Paul's, the whole street together, singing "Christ the Lord is Risen Today" till our hearts burst. Back home...

Hop, hop, hooray—Easter's here! Or so says every supermarket aisle drowning in chocolate eggs, fluffy bunnies, and enough pastel packaging to make your eyes bleed. Kids are hyped for a sugar coma, mums are stress-buying for hunts, and dads are wondering why their wallet's crying. Welcome to Easter, Aussie style—except it's not. Somewhere between th...

Australia's feeling like a house divided. You see it everywhere: city suits sneering at bush battlers, Left and Right screaming past each other, families split over politics or just too busy to talk. Social media's a shouting match, and the news reads like a script to keep us at odds—urban vs. rural, woke vs. working class, faith vs. the "enlighten...

Remember when Easter meant hot cross buns, church on Sunday, and kids hunting eggs while Nan told stories of Jesus? Now picture this: a council flyer for an "Autumn Fest," no crosses allowed, and schools swapping Resurrection lessons for "inclusivity" talks. That's not some dystopian yarn—it's Australia, 2025, where woke warriors are gutting Easter...

 Out past the black stump, where the red dirt stretches forever, Easter hits different. Last year, I saw it myself: a mob of farmers, shearers, and families gathered in a tin-roofed hall, the only church for miles. Under a sky full of stars, they sang of a Cross and an empty tomb, their voices rough but real. That's the outback—hard yakka, har...

Last Easter, I stood with my mates at a dawn service in a dusty country town, the kind of place where the pub and the church are still the heart of things. Kids clutched hot cross buns, old blokes in Akubras bowed their heads, and the pastor's voice carried over the paddocks, telling of a risen Christ. It hit me hard: this is Australia—our faith, o...