While you were asleep: Clive’s new project, Mosul battle restarts, Tanya rules QandA

Approx Reading Time-10Morn-o. What happened while you were asleep? Well, we saw a new side to Clive Palmer, the same old side of warfare, and a welcome, furrowed brow on QandA. Hooray.




Clive Palmer trades billions for vague passion project, Twitter Beat Poetry takes off.

We know Clive as a man of many tastes, but primarily his interests are gleaned from whichever movie he watched last. Be it Jurassic Park, Titanic or Weekend at Bernie’s, the thing we could rely on the most is a reboot directed by Señor Palmero. However, his latest artistic jaunt has propelled him down a rather odd side street. Slam poetry. Over on Twitter, Clive is doing following the examples of all serious poets, throwing out his vengeful verve solely for the RT’s.

As first spotted by our Editor, who is a Clive Palmer completist, back on February 12, CP dropped his first winding stanza, entirely esoteric, utterly subjective, a sentence bordered by a confused shrug.


But as they say, you don’t remake Carnegie Hall without practice – and perhaps assembling it overseas where the labour laws are looser – for Clive’s next effort was closer to the bone of the man himself:

For that, I say, fine effort, young poet. I love how he addresses salad dressing (a lettuce) as he would a person, perhaps saying that, if we are who we eat, would we not be friends with them. Powerful stuff. Sadly, however, the retweets must have demagnetised his artistic compass, as the next effort on a similar theme was nowhere near as good, politicising the aforementioned foodstuff, “Give up fried hamburgers”.

Stay hungry, Clive.

Jowl” – C. Palmer

“I saw the best investments of my generation destroyed by a free market economy,
overfed, overtaxed, over Labor, being driven around Coolum streets at midday, looking
for a reptile park, discerning adults wearing the face of families, yearning for starry
connection to felled ocean liners luxury of past,
who, felled by poverty, enabled by unionised workforce, transplants hopeful construct
overseas, may be scuttled on foreign shores, but through cold pacific flats walks Titanic II,
settles near shoreline, beconing with affordable opulence,
Sometime in 2018.”


Iraq forces push toward IS stronghold of Mosul, civilian population left with lose-lose proposition.

So it goes, as the yawning, mechanised shudder of organised warfare wakes – boots aimed at the world’s antagonists, Islamic State, those who resolutely stand against the wind, and perhaps the tide of logic – the second day on the calendar circled for the Mosul advance may indeed be the last of some of those who hold no allegiance (nor say) in the creeping, booming hell which will soon become them.

According to the UN, these civilians (numbering approximately 750,000), cowering between the two combatants, face a rather pale choice: stay and perish through potential starvation, or walk and meet your fate quickly. Maurizio Crivallero, Save the Children’s Iraq director, said: “This is the grim choice for children in western Mosul right now: bombs, crossfire and hunger if they stay, or execution and snipers if they try to run.”

While the push is new, the operation is not. Sliding from infancy into toddlerdom, the Mosul operation to rub out ISIS is now in its fourth month of existence.

However, the sheer scale of the number marginalises the horror. As a man who knew much on the subject, Josef Stalin, once said: “One death is a tragedy, a million a statistic” – and with that is a reminder of the horrors of war; impersonal as they may seem from the far end of the globe, the person cost is very real.


Weekly viper pit of QandA charted, same old species found with.

This week…I just couldn’t.

I wanted to make the pain stop, a feeling best personified by Labor’s Tanya Plibersek.

Yep. Sums it about up.


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