Sorry, this post has been deleted because it compromised an upcoming court case.
I will republish it when the case is over in a few weeks.
Sorry, this post has been deleted because it compromised an upcoming court case.
I will republish it when the case is over in a few weeks.
We all want our kids to be safe, don’t we? That’s why we drive them to school in G.H.S.U.V.s(great hulking sports utility vehicles), rather than let them run the gauntlet of kidnappers and pedophiles lurking behind every bush, not to mention G.H.S.U.V.s hogging the roads. But don’t you think that’s a little selfish? Yes, your child will be safer inside your G.H.S.U.V. but the children in the other car you may crash into, the small family car, has far less chance of emerging unscathed.
Whilst we are in thinking mode, it is worth comparing the manifold dangers our offspring will face in their lifetime. Car accidents could turn out to be the least of their worries. We are all inured to those graphic T.A.C. adds. We can imagine our grizzly fate in gory detail, but we find it far more difficult to imagine the world that awaits our blessed little sprogs if things go pear shaped. We are just starting to see a few teasers pop up on the screen, for the action packed sci/fi thriller to come.(soon to be relabeled ‘Documentary’) Bushfires are breaking out at any time of the year, even the depths of winter, and in the most unlikely places, like inside the Arctic Circle. The droughts are getting drier and storms are getting stormier. People are on the move all over the world, mainly from there to here. The trickle of refugees that has snuck past Peter Dutton could soon become a tsunami of humans invading the more habitable parts of the world, such as dry land, especially vast empty continents full of fat kangaroos, if you get my drift. (Bangladesh has a population of 150 million souls and they are breeding like Catholics, even though they are Muslims. Almost half of them live on land that is less than 10 metres above sea level. Think about it!)
So, if our little cherubs are lucky enough to escape death by motor car, there is every possibility they will live to see the next century, if, and only if
they can overcome the enormous challenge that await them. Something those of us born in the last century have utterly failed to do. We shall be handing over the baton to the next generation just as we watch Runaway Global Warming sprint off into the distance.
…and that is the view of an optimist. I don’t mean to be alarmist, but there are other, far more alarming scenarios emerging with monotonous regularity.
Why only last week The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America* no less, released a report finding that the tipping point for the creation of a ‘hothouse earth’ (4-5 degrees above preindustrial levels) could very well be as low as 2 degrees above preindustrial levels. We are already 1 degree above. We could reach 2 degrees within the next 10 to 20 years if we don’t pull our finger out.
A ‘hothouse earth’ would mean a sea level rise of 60 metres, and a rise in temperature that would make it extremely difficult to survive outside Antarctica. Ticket to Mars anybody?
So those of us born in a bygone era of peace and prosperity may well be faced with the consequences of our inaction being played out right before our very eyes, our very cloudy eyes, as we languish in our nursing homes unable to lift a finger to help our progeny tackle the momentous task thrust upon them. One can only hope they haven’t introduced Involuntary Euthanasia by then.
*for details go to:
Ben Laycock 2018
The Queen Must Die!
-An Australia Day Reflection
(as in looking in the mirror)
I don’t celebrate Australia day because l am a traditionalist.
Let me put that another way;
l don’t celebrate Australia Day, because l am a traditionalist.
The blackfellas have a long tradition of not celebrating Australia Day, dating back many thousands of years. It is this ancient tradition that l like to uphold.
As you may well know, our venerable Prime Minister is an avowed republican, but he has vowed to wait for our venerable queen to die of old age before he sets about the long and arduous task of establishing The Republic of Australia. While this is very sensitive of him, it could mean we are in for a long wait. Apart from the occasional sniffle she is in rude good health. Many of us may die of old age ourselves before our cherished republic comes to fruition. She could do us all a favor and abdicate, but she is a bit worried about her darling Prince Charles. Rumor has it he is a bit flakey, always banging on about organic vegetables and renewable energy and hippy shit like that. He could very well declare a republic himself if we’re not careful.
But when she dies, as surely she eventually must, we must be ready to grasp the nettle.
Let’s face it, this place needs a total makeover, root and branch.
But we’re still rooting for them, aren’t we? You bet we are!
We are like an old FJ Holden, limping along on 3 cylinders and spewing out black smoke. We don’t just need a grease lube and oil change, we need to recondition the entire engine, and bog up all the rust, and give her a new paint job.
(green and gold of course, or should that be black & gold)
So if Oz Day is destined to be more than an excuse for a a piss up and a piss take, it is timely to nail down just what it is Australian Culture? Does it even exist? And while we are at it, what is culture anyway? Maybe its easier to define what isn’t culture. Bar-B-Qs, fishing, surfingtaking the piss, wearing thongs on your feet instead of your crotch, playing sport, this is a way of life, but it isn’t culture. In fact it could be argued that playing sport is what you do when you have no culture. The Greeks don’t run around all weekend getting skin cancer and acquired brain injuries, do they? No, they have weddings, really big weddings where they sit around inventing democracy and philosophy and shit like that. The Italians, ditto, more weddings, where they sit around eating pasta made with tomatoes grown in polystyrene boxes in the front yard. The Lebanese have endless weddings, where they sit around inventing cumbers with edible skins.
Culture grows out of the land we live in, much like yogurt. Most of us here in this nacent nation haven’t been here long enough to create a culture, so maybe we should look to those who have, the local blackfellas. We may just find we have a lot more in common than we thought, such as camping. According to the stats, we are the most urbanized society ever invented, huddled together like ginea pigs, clinging as close to the edge of this vast continent as we can possibly get, starring longingly out to sea. But we do love the great outdoors, don’t we? You bet we do! Learned anthropologists have postulated that this quite possibly due in large part to the influence of the locals, they call them ‘aborigines’. These so-called Aborigines love nothing better than going camping, in fact their entire ‘life-style-choice’ is designed around the ability to pull up stumps and ‘go walk about’. No need to work overtime all year round to afford the airfare and the hotel and the restaurants and the exotic trinkets. Imagine the freedom of waking up one morning, any morning, grabbing your hunting gear and heading out on an adventure. No 20 kilo packs to lug, food and lodging provided as need be, and when you arrive your relies cook up a mouth-watering feast and put on a real song and dance to knock your socks off.
So we can see that the vagaries of the local climate dictate a nomadic lifestyle, including a life of feast & famine. None of this toiling all season and salting it away for the winter, to be nibbled one morsel at a time. When there was food you ate it all, when there was none, you went hungry. This life of feast & famine is yet another custom adopted and adapted from the locals. With the subtle difference that we have forgone the traditional famine bit, preferring instead, to feast pretty well constantly. In turn we have taught this recent adaptation to the blackfellas, with obvious consequences.
We can see that all true culture is shaped by our surroundings, and the elements of our surroundings that are unique is what will make us, in time unique. The unique climate created by the oscillations of El Nino have created a culture based on camping and partying (safe in the knowledge that it probably wont rain much for at least another few years.)
So what are some other unique aspects of the nature of our nature that is nurturing the unique nature of us?
Well, the place is very flat and very dry and very empty, (having decimated what few inhabitants there were) hence we have large cow farms that sport drovers with RM Williams boots and hats and a kelpie by their side, and feisty women who can ride a fucking horse and crack a whip.
We have more beaches per head than anywhere else except Canada, but most of theirs are frozen solid all year round (know anyone going on a surfing trip to Canada? No, l didn’t think so) Thus is born the surfing lifestyle – driving old Volvos, smoking bongs and eating junk food, getting up early to check the waves before going back to bed, roaming around the country in semi-nomadic fashion (just like the locals)
Fishing – Many of you may remember that oft quoted saying from the great Mao Tse Tung himself, that was drummed into us all throughout grade 3 Political History: “give a man a fish and you feed him for a day- teach a man to fish and he will spend every second weekend with his mate, sitting in a dingy in the middle of a lake, getting quietly sozzled. It is a well kept secret that the fish are of secondary importance and it is actually all about contemplating the awesome beauty of the natural world. (the Japanese have a special word for this; ‘shinrinyoku’ – forest bathing)
Alas and alak, these embryonic cultural practices have begun to die out before they are fully formed. As we speak they are being guzzumped by new cultural practices like Instagram. (my friend Alex says we should start Consider-a-gram, where every comment has a 24 hour delay before it can be posted. In Consider-a-gram it is a real no-no to boast about the great fun you are having, as it tends to have a deleterious effect on those not having an orgasmic experience every five minutes. In Consider-A-Gram we like to post about the truly boring time we are having so no one gets jealous.)
Yet another unique aspect of our way of life generated by the vast emptiness that engulfs us (literally as well as metaphorically) is immigration, immigration on a vast scale. We currently import more people per head than any other country on earth. (not counting refugees of course, because they don’t count). We may not be the most multi-cultural nation on the planet but we can argue that we are the most successful at it. (Just look at The U.S.A. – now referred to as the D.S.A.) We may be lacking in culture but we are not lacking in cultural choice. This has made us a nation of foodies. A whole new growth industry of people who get very well paid to eat food and talk about it while we watch.
(Back In my day if we uttered a single syllable at the dinner table we got a whack in the earhole.)
So to be an Australian is to be into eating food, strange, exotic food.
We are big eaters, now officially the biggest in the world.
The more we look, the more aspects of our way of life we find that are really quite unique and special, and the deeper we look, we see that these things have sprung from our unique geography. So to sum up l would venture to say that culture is a product of the interaction between geography and time, but most of us have not yet spent enough time here to acquire culture, nor have we spent enough time interacting with our geography or learning from those who have.
West Papua History
In 1949, Sukarno led Indonesia to independence from the Dutch, but West Papua remained under Dutch rule. After a while the Indonesians began threatening to take over West Papua from the Dutch. The Australians wanted the two halves of the Island of Papua reunited. (A very sensible idea, that would have avoided much future suffering) but John F. Kennedy would have none of it, so in 1963, The U.S. brokered an agreement with President Sukarno, where by the U.N. would run the province till it was handed over to Indonesia on the condition Indonesia organized a ‘Vote of Free Choice’ (some call a vote of no choice) within 7 years. None of the local Melanesian people were consulted, so they started their own independence movement, the O.P.M. – Organisasi Papua Merdeka (Papuan Freedom Organization) with the words
“We do not want modern life! We refuse any kinds of development: religious groups, aid agencies, and governmental organizations just Leave Us Alone!”
In 1965 the leftist Sukarno, was overthrown by the authoritarian dictator Suharto. Every member of the Communist Party of Indonesia they could find, was rounded up and murdered. One of the worst crimes against humanity of the 20th century.
In 1969 the Indonesians conducted the so called ‘act of free choice’:
It was run by the infamous TNI – Tentara National Indonesi ( the Indonesian Army, a law unto itself) The U.N. stipulated that every local Melanesian adult could vote,( over 900,000 people) but the T.N.I. hand picked 1000 village chiefs, whom they convinced, via threats and bribery, to throw in their lot with Indonesia. The vote was unanimous, quite an unusual outcome for a free democratic vote.
In July 1971 the Melanesian people of West Papua declared their independence, but unfortunately no one was listening, or almost no one. The Peoples Republic of West Papua is recognized by one country, Vanuatu. Very soon after, the Freeport mine began operation in the province, the largest and most profitable gold mine in the world. This mine remains the largest obstacle to independence for the people of West Papua.
Meanwhile, in 1975 there was a revolution in Portugal. In an act of gross irresponsibility, the Portuguese unburdened themselves of their remaining colonial assets, including Timor L’este. The Indonesians moved into the vacuum, snuffing out a brief flowering of freedom for the Timorese. It would be 25 years before they once more regained their sovereignty, due largely to the efforts of one man: Jose Ramos Horta, the Timorese ambassador to the U.N. who devoted his considerable diplomatic skills to putting the Tiny country on the map.
But West Papua is not Timor L’este. It was not administered by a European Colonial power for 500 years. It is not, and does not want to become, part of the modern world. An admirable ideal, but one that makes it very difficult to get heard in the clamour of the rat race. As the last of the unadulterated indigenous peoples of the world become swamped by the metastasizing cancer of Consumerism, keeping up the unique way of life of the people of West Papua becomes ever more precious, for them and for all of humanity.
Ben Laycock 2016
Castlemaine Art Gallery
-till December 31st
This triennial award is for a painting ‘in sympathy’ with the work of Emanuel Phillips-Fox. The $50,000 prize money was put up by his generous nephew Lenny, who was apparently a card caring member of The Communist Party, but he obviously came across a large stash of cash that he failed to squander on the great unwashed.
Emanuel, or Manny to his many friends, was born and bred here in Australia, but he far preferred to spend his time in gay Paris, documenting every nuance of the bourgeoisie as they indulged in their endless pursuit of leisure and pleasure, oblivious to the Marxist revolution unfolding all around them: Boating on the river, tea in the arbor, croquet on the lawn. Mr. Fox was especially fascinated with the young ladies in all their finery, frolicking in the fields, or reclining in a hammock in the dappled sunlight with a book in hand, a flower in their hair and vacant look on their pale faces.
When he did happen to pop back to Oz from time to time he was at pains to highlight the immense civility of this nascent society, despite the tyranny of distance and the proximity of tyranny.
Of course it would be nigh on impossible to find any self-respecting artist turning out that sort of sickly sweet romantic schmaltz these days, so the judges were required to seek sympathy for other qualities in Mr. Fox’s work:
Vibrant colours, impressionist landscapes, scenes of everyday life, women standing around without their clothes on.
Here at the gallery, l note that every picture in the room has ticked one of those boxes, but it seems none of them has ticked two.
Let’s circumnavigate the room in a clockwise direction, clinically dissecting each work as we go. (At this point it is germane to confess that l myself entered this very prize. Having failed to make the cut, l have been dining on sour grapes ever since.)
A quick look around reveals an overwhelming preponderance of landscapes, either realist or expressionist, though none could be described as impressionist. (As l said impressionism is no longer de riguer – or ‘cool’) There is a little cluster of vibrantly coloured works, some might say garishly coloured works, that l fear Mr. Fox would have no sympathy for at all. Then we come to the work of the renowned John Nixon. Harking back to his glory days in kinda, John has used all the bottle tops and bits of wood in the craft box to make a picture. (Well done John, keep up the good work.)
Bill Sampson, a local lad, has done a conceptual take, reducing one of Mr. Foxes vibrant landscapes (‘On the Mediterranean Coast.’ It is in the gallery so you can compare it if you like) to a few enormous pixels, each one the size of a lamington. Very post-modern Bill, but l don’t think Mr.Fox would approve of your conceptualism, or your post-modernism for that matter, he was having enough trouble getting his head around impressionism.
Jason Jones, another local to make the cut, has faithfully produced a simulacrum of a genuine Fox landscape, in fact it is so simulacrimous (sick) that l took it for a direct copy of ‘Gumtrees at Cremourne’, but Mr. Jones swears black and blue that he has never set eyes on the work in question. l will let you be the judge.
Next up we have a cluster of moons. I imagine Mr. Fox would like all these. He does appreciate a good moon.
David Falzon has entered the only work that seems to evoke anything like the saccharine romantic tones that saturates Foxe’s oeuvre, but it is crying out for a young damsel in a bustle picking daisies with a vacant look on her angelic face.
There is a smattering of eerie dark works, one or two even bordering on the sinister. Mr. Fox would not approve. He didn’t do spooky.
Lynne Boyd, (one of the lesser Boyds, no doubt overlooked due to her gender) has done perhaps the only work that could vaguely be described as impressionist.(If you squint a bit and look out of the corner of one eye) Excuse me for bragging but l went to art school with Lynne and l would have to say she is by far the most consistent artist l have ever come across, except for Prudence Flint. Her work has not changed a jot (or is that a dot) since those heady days back in the early 1980s.
Well done Lynne. Do not be tempted to stray from the chosen path of enlightenment..
One Kevin Chin has produced one of the most life-like impressions of a drug induced psychosis outside of the psyche ward, but l fear once again, that our Mr. Fox would not approve. Drugs were rather frowned upon in those days, even though they were perfectly legal. Go figure?
Abdul Abdullah has a foreign sounding name and has done quite a disturbing piece referencing those poor unfortunates incarcerated in remote islands in the vast Pacific Ocean. Now l don’t know where Mr. Abdulla comes from but here in this country we don’t bring up such nasty topics in a nice place like an art gallery.
Last but not least we come to the winner.
‘Wash’ by Prudence Flint. Prudence is by far the most consistent artist l have ever come across, except for Lyn Boyd, of course. She has been painting the same painting all her life, using exactly the same model every time, (I kid you not) stuck in the very same room, with the very same tiles and the very same slightly nauseating colour scheme. You would have to agree, she has got it down pat.
The subject, who has shared all the most mundane moments of her prosaic existence with us, over all these years, without leaving her room/cell, without growing older, or younger, or even changing her expressionless expression. Not even her newborn babe can raise the hint of a smile.
I feel like l am looking at stills from CCTV footage shot inside a lunatic asylum, featuring a patient under heavy sedation since the 1950s who is only allowed out once a year to feed the pidgeons.
When will this woman tear off her straight jacket and go running down the road stark nakid, squeeling with joy?
As you are no doubt aware, Len Fox amassed his not inconsiderable wealth driving trucks. His next award will be for a painting of a truck. Hopefully this will bring a few more locals into the art gallery.
To see a lot of Manny’s work just go to google images and type in his name.
To see a lot of Prudence’s work go to google images and type in her name
Ben Laycock 2016
Gumtrees at Cremorne – Manny Fox
Jail Birds Escape
Stone Quarry rejected – Council states:
‘We have enough stones”
Just 30 seconds can save a life
Malcolm Turnstyle stars in
The Never Ending Election
Pauline Hanson stars in
Return of the Living Dead
Greyhounds star in
Sam Hains stars in
The Hipsterproof Fence
John Howard stars in
W.M.D. – A Fantasy
Mice trained to detect W.M.D.s
(Weapons of Mice Destruction)
l have been on MainFm for over 5 years now, and my faithful companion has been by my side for 2.
l am sick of missing all the Friday night fun but management won’t give us another time so we have called it quits.
Watch this space for the next exciting adventure
Chow Ben Boyang
HEALTH AUSTRALIA PARTY
Careful, this mob could well be a front for The Anti-vaccination Crusade, who fervently believe vaccination should be illegal rather than compulsory.
Lookout, this mob could well be a front for The Trotskyists – enthusiastic young revolutionaries directed to infiltrate Stalinist committees and make them unworkable.
Since the fall of The Soviet Union this strategy has been extended to all committees.
BEWARE – these people are Card Carrying Communists
A web savvy mob who would like to introduce internet voting on specific issues. The entire country could vote on any issue that takes their fancy. Or the whole world could vote on how to run the whole world. This is definitely a visionary concept well worth considering
We are really keen to create a whole new city especially for Nerds, so we can ride around on bicycles and figure out how to get to Mars via teleporting.
We want a smaller population for Oz, as well as smaller people. (apparently there is a drug to arrest human growth at the desirable size. At present this drug is only given to disabled kids so they don’t grow too big to carry, but if we all reduced our size by half we would naturally need only half as many resources and create half as many emissions. If we were the size of ants we could send half the world’s population to colonize Mars, in one spaceship.(if teleporting proves to be impractical)
Think about it. But not for too long .
This mob are Computer Nerds whose favourite sport is hacking.
They do have some affinity with the Cycling Scientists but would not be welcome in Nerd Utopia as they might fuck things up big time.
Zero Emissions by 2050! Good Luck!
This mob believe artists should be paid money for making art.
Whilst this novel idea would bring about a marked improvement in their general wellbeing, it would no doubt have a detrimental effect on their art, since, as we all know, great art emerges from great suffering. Alas, a pleasant life makes for pleasant art, at best.
This mob believe God Almighty is persecuting Atheists for their beliefs (or lack of them) They promise to introduce a law banning God from Australia. If she so much as sets foot on Australian soil, or makes her presence felt in some other occult way, she shall be incarcerated! No ifs, no buts!
This mob fight doggedly for Gays to have the right to get married, fight in the armed forces and become priests, blissfully unaware that these pursuits are no longer cool.
This mob think pot is the panacea for everything, especially the decline in rural industry. There is apparently a vast pool of untapped experience in the area of marijuana cultivation. Some of our most skilled horticulturalists are languishing on the dole whilst little kiddies die for the want of Medicinal Marijuana.
This lot believe in social progress(the development of human consciousness)
as opposed to industrial progress (digging shit up & selling it to China)
We vow to commit suicide on mass if we are not given the right to die with dignity.
The Shooters Party has offered to help.
Have perennial problems with ever decreasing membership
We want to grow old gracefully, unlike our sister party, who don’t seem to want to grow old at all.
Claim The Voluntary Euthenasia Party are poaching their members
Similar to Voluntary Euthenasia Party but don’t feel it is necessary to ask first.
The Sexy Party says it’s not all about the sex.
They are actually looking for a committed long
term relationship with the voters.
Note-Funded by the Porn Industry
Party Leader: Mr. Ed
Calling for voting rights for all animals, not just humans.
Should get the donkey vote if The Shooters Party don’t get them first
We Greenies are one big happy family made up of nice, well educated middle class people who care very much about those less fortunate than ourselves, like poor people.
We love the bush but we have to live in the heart of the city because it is cool. We like to see ourselves as the beating heart of an otherwise heartless nation.
1 Wind not Coal
2 Trains not Trucks
3 Schools not Prisons
4 We are like the Liberals, but nicer
1 Coal not Wind
2 Trucks not Trains
3 Goals not Schools
Retrain teachers as prison guards.
“My new clients are more polite and less violent than my previous charges and the pay is better”
– Jenny; trainee guard at Loddon Prison
– former Prep teacher at Sleepy Hollow Primary
4 Decrease spending to zero and ultimately liquidate the Government
The Gnats once swarmed across the plains like locusts but are now a mere shadow of their former selves. Shriveling inexorably to the point where they could disappear up their own arsehole at any moment.
This is due largely to the natural attrition of death.
John Madigan’s Manufacturing & Farmers Party
Mad Dog Madigan would have to be The Patron Saint of Lost Causes.
No sooner does he raise the DLP from the grave than he reburies them even deeper and goes into bat for farming & manufacturing before they disappear altogether.
Claims to have invented the stump-jump plough.(along 47 other claimants)
This gang claim to be the true conservationists; preserving wetlands and forest habitat for them to hunt in. Whilst it may be a noble act to kill wild animals to feed your hungry family, this is a far cry from killing them for the shear pleasure of killing. Whilst hunting for sport may be environmentally sustainable it is hardly morally defensible, as it tends to encourage unhealthy psychopathic tendencies amongst participants.
It seems the people of Victoria are not as enthusiastic about their motoring as we were led to believe, but Ricky has turned out to be a decent chap, and living proof that a Nobody plucked at random can turn out more worthy than those we felt we could trust.
(often confused with the Austrian Country Party, especially in Austria)
We have adopted the No Policy Policy.
All decisions will be arrived at through community consultation.
Whatever bills The Greens vote for we will oppose on principal, and vice-versa
Led by the eponymous Mr. Hinch, AKA – The Human Headline
Derryn’s main focus is on self justice. As we all know, poor Derryn has been treated shabbily by the justice system every time he deliberately floats the law to increase his ratings. Derryn’s concept of self-justice also involves justifying his reason to be alive. (the most obvious reason being that it is illegal kill people)
Derryn’s goal is to have the privilege of exposing suspected pedophiles in parliament, thus avoiding going back to gaol yet again.
Pauline’s policy is to be as politically incorrect as possible whenever she is given the opportunity. When Eddie Maguire expressed the desire to drown a journalist, Pauline said with a straight face “ Personally, I would gleefully drown them all”.
Well said Pauline. All publicity is good publicity, as they say.
LIBERAL DEMOCRATS (often confused with the Democratic Liberals)
This mob would like to do away with laws and governments altogether and replace them with private armies defending private wealth, not unlike the Dark Ages or ‘Game of Thrones’. Lots of sex, lots of wars, lots of blood, lots of fun!
Not to be confused with the Anarchists, who would also like to do away with laws and governments, but they would convince everyone to be nice to each other and share everything so guns and money would be redundant.
“We refer to ourselves as The Anti Party or The Anti Party Party
Our detractors call us The White Anty Party
We are anti action on climate change
But Pro Life (at least until you are born, then you’re on your own, baby)
-We do not sell Viagra
Possibly the most extreme far right of the gaggle of extreme far right parties on display,
and they do have some stiff opposition. (no pun intended)
Their glorious leader, one Daniel Nalliah of the infamous Catch Fire Ministries
Is quoted as saying soon after the Black Saturday Bushfires that killed over 200 people, “This is God’s punishment for Victorians allowing abortion.”
Assorted Bigots Lucky Dip
Nice guy Nick takes a Big Gamble and goes national. Good Luck Nick!
The Recycling Party
We recycle everyone else’s policies ad infinitum
The Dog Walkers & Pet Groomers Party
Dog walking and pet grooming should be compulsory
This would provide much needed employment opportunities for dog walkers and pet groomers, and the dogs like it too.
Loners who can’t muster 500 other loners to form a Loners Party