Special Philosophical Post……’Our Mental Life’

by Anton martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Sometimes I like to write essays or articles – usually they just pop into existence like a quantum particle. They arrive when they arrive. Because they are often ‘long winded’ vs ‘artistic’, I coral them all on another site – which has very little following (requires too much mental attention you see).

Below is the opening few lines & a link to the whole article – should you be interested in Philosophical musings…….

There’s a saying about when you level up your biggest enemy/s comes from a person in your inner circle, and you biggest champion comes from a complete stranger.

It’s a very interesting little saying…….

Read The rest of this post by clicking link below:

“Circa 1984-87, The Ballad Of NZ” ( A Prose Poem/Spoken Word)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

The Politicians were too young,

Or too stupid,

Or too lacking in real life experience,

Or too Professorial,

Or too academic,

Or too Lawyerly,

Or in truth – they were all of the above.

High on bad Neoliberal theory.

The so called “Washington Consensus”.

The Corporate Raider Lobby got to them,

In true ‘Wolf in sheep’s clothing’ fashion.

They were sold a story of “growing up & becoming worldly”.

For the Anglo-American Wolf did cry:

“NZ’s is just a silly backwater – don’t you want to be suave, like us?”.

“You must sell all those great ‘bad’ assets at a fire-sale to us”

“You must work more for less, so we can charge more for less”

“You must be a part of our single-blind experiment & guess who the blind one is dummy!”

“Now be good little slaves now stupid-o’s & do exactly as we say!”

“You have reached your destiny – as our fully propagandised automoton living breathing data points”

“And don’t worry if your society becomes a living hellscape – we promise to buy you a coke”

“Oh, wait did I say that out loud? Please forget I said that O Backward-o NZ 1980’s Politicians”

The Dopey Politicians took it all in hook, line, & ‘stinker’.

The Corporate Raiders took over,

Took over the minds of our oh so feeble Politicians.

And while we “The People” sank further into the mire,

They all said to us:

“Oh look at that beautiful mire you’re stuck in – I reckon some daisies are about to sprout”

“Oh, look you’re sinking further, don’t worry breath through this plastic drink straw”

“Oh no! You’re not breathing – oh well at least you can’t ever lodge a protest vote”

This is the ballad of the giant swindle that shoulda-neva-‘appened.

Yes! This was the shit-show called “NZ Circa 1984-1987”.

Yes! – We now have no bananas!

Well – none at affordable prices anyway.

Which is pretty strange – given we’ve been in a Banana Republic,

For 41 consecutive mire-filled years.

Oh well! I guess this is our lot in life.

For we went from hard-truth-seeking-knowing-soldier-farmer-labourer-types,

To weak willed bender-over-ers & take-it-up-the-butt-ers,

In only Thirty-Nine short years.

Yup we the people folded to those Anglo-American-Politico-Demons to easily.

Alas we were so open minded, that we not only let our brains fall out,

But we let them roll under the ocean & all the way across the Tasman,

Stopping only when they landed in Keating et al’s far-lap.

This was Circa 1984-1987, The Ballad of NZ.

And PS – we never got the Coke.

To All The ‘Wild Bill’s’ Of The World (A Poem/Prose)

By Anton Martin Smith antonsmithwrites@gmail.com

You are talking to someone you know.

Another person is nearby.

They try to introduce you this ‘new third party’ – let’s call him ‘Wild Bill’.

I’ll come back to Wild Bill in a second.

Now a partially half-well-adjusted-adult generally does this as an introduce-ee:

They muster at least a quarter smile, aim it towards those they are introduced to, & and emit at least a passably pseudo-cheery hello.

But No No No! – this is not always so!

In small towns throughout the cosmos, namely Earth – this skill is often missed.

Yes, our smalltown Wild Bill – instead of acting like a partially well-adjusted adult who knows how to say hello –

Decides he would rather look like he is at a funeral,

Looking at you cadaverously, without an once of good humour,

As frozen as an iceberg, while his tiny mind ticks over.

Wild Bill is trying to figure out whether you are worth talking to,

He’s hoping he might have known you for a minimum thirty years, but has temporarily forgotten.

Because Wild Bill knows that dealing with an entirely new person from scratch,

The ‘blank page’, if you will –

Is a bridge too far for him – in fact it is far far far far far too far for him,

& thats still putting it lightly.

For his fragile quadruple bubble wrapped ego can’t handle it.

For hidden deep in the recesses of his psyche – he knows if he does this – his cover will be blown.

He’d rather treat the ‘blank pages’ of the world poorly & so come across like a total hick,

Than risk actually being seen.

It is simply the price Wild Bill is more than willing to pay –

For he can stay comfortably unseen, invisible, without ever experiencing any stressful growth pangs,

& who cares what some total stranger thinks of me anyway, he tells himself.

Of course, I’m not hating on the Wild Bills of the world –

As it is always a fool’s errand,

To judge those who know not why they do as they do.

Especially as we are all like Wild Bill in some ways, or at least some stage in our lives.

But in saying that,

It’s bloody annoying when it happens to you all the same.

Unfortunately there is no polite antidote to it, other than to steadfastly not get sucked into their abyss.

This of course takes great practice.

One day I will rudely confront Wild Bill like this:

“Bill, Bill, Wild Bill – oh when will you learn to say hello properly for god’s sake?”

To which Wild Bill will probably reply stony faced:

“Not in this lifetime stranger”.

And then if I’m really lucky – a mutual disarming chuckle & will break out across these dusty windswept savannahs –

Finally allowing me & ‘The Wild Bills’ of this Earth to see eye to eye.

It’s a rose-tinted romantic hope, & as such, I won’t hold my breath.

So, all that is left to think to yourself about Wild Bill, is this:

Wild Bill – may one day your wounded soul find restful peace, with all your undue fears long gone.

You are now a-hoppin’-skippin’ & a- jumpin’ through the clouds with unremittent gay abandonment,

Greeting every otherworldly evanescent stranger you meet along the way like a manically happy labrador,

Who has just now seen his long-term owner & best friend, whom he had mistakenly thought was long dead.

God speed to you Wild Bill.

“Yes! We Have No Bananas” ( A thought/Prose)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

The only truly good thing about ‘big time sports’ is the crowd hubbub – for crowd hubbub is a human kind of birdsong.

It is beautiful in its brutality.

The athleticism of the athletes is of second order rank, the contest itself an even more distant third rank.

The score of the game is totally irrelevant, but the outcome isn’t. The score is something like 34-12, but the outcome is not at all the score.

The outcome is one man turning to another & saying –

“Hey Joe what a great game!, it made me forget how me, you & all our kind are modern age forever slave-serfs”.

That casual epitet of the everyman is the true outcome of a ‘big time’ sports event.

Centrally planned contrived escapism for the slave serf so to delay a People’s Revolution.

And it’s worked a treat since the coliseum days, which incidentally never actually ended.

Yes, “The Truth About Us” is depressing, but from Truth does enlightenment flow.

All good philosophers intuitively know this.

All bad politician-authoritarians do as well.

And that we know the truth – our pathway to enlightenment – that ain’t a bad thing at all, at all.

The ‘ignorance is bliss thesis’ is just slave-master propaganda.

So let us enjoy the sports match, but also kick the politician-authoritarian up the arse now & then.

Becasue our serf-slavery won’t end anytime soon,

That is self evident to anyone who reads History.

The point of our enlightenment is this:

Our slave-serf conditions have deteriorated far to much lately & we deserve better.

Let us aim to kick politician-authoritarian arse regularly & non violently.

Like John Lennon said “We’ll do it with humour”.

For he’s right – humour is the only thing the Slave Master is really afraid of.

In Closing:

So Bra –

lets Ha Ha Ha…

to the La-de-dah.

to get thrown a better…

Ba-na-na

“Are All My Fave Writers Just Chumps?( An Idea/Article/Prose)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

The best art that is thrown up by the system itself,

And described as the best art by the system itself,

Must be of the kind of art that lets out safely the pent up steam in the most discontented heads,

Strongly so but also safely so out of all the true latent Revolutionarys’ minds,

So as to the deflate the risk of a actual Revolution ever happening.

This is a good definition of what is called controlled opposition.

It is the most natural thing to see the following occur:

A Revolutionary Writer or Artist agrees to castrate their ideas & themselves,

Because this is how they can become noticed by the money payers – The Publishers, The Galleries – Society Folk.

The former potential True Revolutionary sighs in giant relief as they grab the long awaited fat cheque.

With cheque -in-hand the former potential Revolutionary knows they have been kept off the street – maybe for life.

No question – It is indeed a big personal payoff.

Of course the creative will keep deluding themselves or lying to others that they are still a potential Revolutionary.

But this has been made impossible by the publishing deal now done & dusted.

For to become known, to become lauded, to become finacially secure –

At some key level the Revolutionary part has to be nixed, neutralised, nullified – signed away with.

And with the artist’s signature now captured in bloody ink, the future Revolution is indefinitely delayed.

The system has won, at least for now.

For the old biblical quote is true:

How can a house stand if it is divided against itself?

The system cannot ever intentianlly promote True Revolutionaries.

This is why by definition all our so called favourite Revolutionary Writers

Orwell, Huxley, Bukowski, P.K. Dick etc etc

Have all been co-opted by the system,

& so used as a Societal-Anti Revolution-Pressure-Release-Device.

These kinds of authers are all true geniuses & will have known this fact to be true.

For them it’s a hard intellectual fact to swallow –

But they wanted to be successful writers not True Revolutionaries.

It’s not an easy fact for us fans to swallow either –

We like to delude ourselves romantically that they were/are True Bona-fide Revoltionaries.

It’s a kind of shared fantasy that us fans self-police amongst ourselves.

Our mainstream success anti heroes are real dammit, if only more people read them the system would change! Let’s drink to the True Revolutionaries!

I’m not telling anyone to stop reading Orwell, Huxley, Bukowski, P.K. Dick et al,

I’m just busting the myth we all happily go along with –

That they are indeed True Revolutionary Writers.

In summary I contend that the adage The pen is mightier than the sword,

Is actually there so the existing power structure stays in power, & is not overthrown.

The True Revolutionary says the sword is mightier than the pen & would never say the reverse.

And incidentily, all the worst (best?) Dictators all had an intuitive knowledge of this.

Despite all their talent for storytelling & warnings Orwell, Huxley, Bukowski, P.K. Dick et al,

Will first & foremost be Anti-Revolution pressure valves – & so also controlled opposition.

Don’t worry – as a massive fan of them – I don’t want to believe it either!

But this doesn’t stop it from being true.

I’ll also keep reading them all with glee –

despite the fact they are all Societal-Anti Revolution – Pressure-Release-Devices or controlled opposition.

All this is why it’s so hard for anyone to be a True Revolutionary.

You can’t just reach for the cheque.

This article is owned by Martin Smith Creations ltd (NZ). If you are a person or a small non-profit please read or reproduce freely. Commercial Users or NGO’s: If you want to purchase for reprint of this work for a commercial project to reach a wider audience – then contact me via martinantonsmith@gmail.com to gain written legal permission.

Honesty & ‘Kings Honours’ awards: Will you get a ‘Certificate’ or a ‘Carrot’ (Up the Jacksie)? (A Blog Post)

By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

In NZ because we are not yet a Republic – we have Knighthoods & Orders of Merit etc etc which have the stamp of approval from the head of state i.e in this case the King of England.

Quite often total assholes get awards. But since the world is run by assholes, this should not surprise anyone.

For example, this year they gave an old Politician (let’s just call her ‘Ruth RRRichardson’) an award. She in 1991 cut benefits to the poor.

She did it with a smile.

I was one of the poor children affected by this many years ago.

She literally took a day’s food out of me & my two sibling’s mouths – well also from my mothers too.

So, I don’t mind saying a giant FU to her, even now 34 years since she did the dirty on the poor kids & their single mother parents……now you know the context, let me get into the meat of this sandwich…. I’ve came up with an “Alternate history of Ruth Richardson’s Kings honor award” …here it is

Why don’t they just be honest when handing out Kings Honours Awards?

e.g. The revamped ceremony that now favours honesty might go like this (imagine an aging society fuddy duddy giving a ‘weird chemistry teacher look-a-like’ female politician getting the award) :

“Ruth RRRichardson – you get a Kings Honour for the following chicanery category”:

“For the holding down of the poor & the ‘great unwashed’ and for distracting them from the fact they are slaves slash chattel of the state; & For the picking of their pockets over the period of X decades in under the guise of helping them out – your unrivaled dastardry & pig-headed lack of empathy has surprised & enamoured you to us – the most withered of joyless souls who exist at the highest ranks of this very rancid & farty smelling room”.

& then they say this

“Now bend over & receive the giant golden carrot, which once removed & cleaned can be redeemable for 100% cold pressed kiwi-slave juice”

“I’ve been waiting decades for this carrot” She said as she smiled for the camera – although the “smile” was not really a smile as the ends of her lips remained fully below the horizontal plane.

And what did I have to do with this new Kings Honours ceremony? I was so happy that I was made the convener for “The distributing the Kings Honors Physical Awards to each winner” This means I was able to push through this diktat while no one was looking:

13-b section 2: The Mean ones can get the oversize carrot up the jacksie, & the nice ones can get a certificate.

Through some twist of fate, the quality control staff didn’t delete my diktat & this came to be. The only thing that annoys me?

The bad ones liked the carrot.

That was not the plan.

Special Post: “To the Denizens of the Very Big Cities of Earth” (An Open letter/Prose)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Dear Denizens of the various ‘Very Big Cities’ of planet Earth,

I would like to convey some home truths, not to taunt but to educate &, if i am lucky, put some wind beneath some weary & mottled wings.

I shall get right into it.

Living & working in A ‘Very Big City’ teaches you to embrace a culture of high consumption, materialism & disposability in your life & so also your relationships.

The denizens of the Very Big City suffer from “slowly boiled alive frog syndrome”.

The environment is so toxic yet so normalised, ever present, yet also invisible to the denizens’ hacked eyes.

If you the ‘Very Big City denizen’ don’t recognise this, then you can’t combat the effect.

This is also very profitable for the Corporations – & that’s no coincidence.

The whole reason for a ‘Very Big City’ to exist – is to provide a good return on capital & return on labour employed to the Capitalist.

If you are an employee in a Very Big City who has to go to work to survive – & that’s ninety percent of the population in these cities – & you don’t recognise the true reason a Very Big City exists, then you can’t ever save your soul – then so you will be miserable.

It is as sure as an apple falling from a true under the Gravitational Force.

There’s no avoiding it, even if you have a so called big salary.

Big salary jobs were created by Capitalists of the ‘Very Big City’ to fool employees to selling their time & energy at a highly amplified rate.

The trick played by the Big City Capitalists on the upwardly striving wage-slave is that they think that they can rise up the social ladder, slowly shed their misery on the way up, & be blinded to their in truth amplified wage-slave reality.

As planned by the Capitalist Oligarchs of the Very Big City, the upwardly striving wage-slave never finds the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

The trick works perfectly, as once the amplified wage-slave reaches the top, but is still not a bona-fide capitalist, they will do anything to hide their retained if not also amplified misery.

If they let out the truth out of their retained & probably amplified misery, this now amplified wage-slave couldn’t handle the blow to their fragile egos.

This is why so many so called ‘successful’ people in the ‘very big city’ do themselves in, & die by their own hands – they can’t handle the reality, the now mountainous level of pain & anguish, the swindle they let themselves be so easily fooled by.

Big Cities are for Capitalists & people who aren’t Capitalists but aren’t so blind to not know it, & so keep a part of their soul for themselves. Everyone other than that has allowed their soul to be stolen by that ‘Very Big City’.

Often it’s not there fault, that they allowed their soul to be stolen by the ‘Very Big City’ – some did recognise it, but all too late. When they realised they were actually digging a grave & not a life, they were too deep to escape it. From that point you either end it all or you go insane, & agree to keep doing the same thing expecting a different result. So they just kept digging their own graves.

Others escape to the country late in life – but by then the damage is done, the quartz of dispair has become chrystalised. As they say you always take the weather with you. You must leave the Very Big City relatively early, before it is too late.

The overarching reason why all the denzens of Very Big Cities of the world are almost all zombified, cognitive dissonance, Einsteinian version insane, learned helplessness type slowly boiled-alive frogs?

Human beings tend get to comfortable with very uncomfortable conditions, so long as they are highly predictable.

So the real antidote to becoming just another empty shelled garden variety victim of the ‘Very Big City’ is this:

Know thy self, Know thy surroundings, know thy species.

If you know that, preferably earlier than later in life, you will know thy can still escape the real-life Gotham Cities that are, just like the upwardly striving wage-slave, amplifying their misery throughout the world.

Now pledge to never allow them to take all of your whole soul…ever!

Good luck, you are worth it.

P.S. To the few Capitalists & Companies of the V.B.C.’s who are on the side of good – keep battling & your commitment to your workers well-being as well as profits helps massively in the war…for is it not a war we are in – a war for a (wo)mans mind, time & energy?

M.A.S 25/05/2025

Hi there, it is me again…..

I have written some more on the subject, of the same theme – so I will add it here:

….If you try to look for life amongst the dead, you will always end up 100% disappointed, for life cannot flourish in locations where death holds the reigns.

This is why all of the “successful” people that the media dishes up to you are morbidly unhappy, & it shows on their faces. their sunken eyes with vibrancy that has disappeared many decades ago, they look twenty years older than they should.

The modern economy is actually a Death Cult – people who worship death the most in this system are rewarded, or should I say thrown more crumbs by the grim reaper of the The Economy. They are given more paper promise money. But the currency & all its cultural trimmings – banality, lack of creativity, snobbishness etc is only fully valid & redeemable within the death camps – the Big Cities.

Life can only flourish outside the death camps, in the villages & the country, where the death camp currency holds less sway, & life community, happiness, & health can dominate. True Evil must always not only hide this fact – it must reverse & invert it.

So, the mouthpieces of death – The electronic screens, the bosses, the landlords & the owners, the girlfriends, the wives must always work to denigrate the small towns, villages & the countryside, & pump up the paper money urban globe-trotting billionaire with the demon-like face.

To gain traction in the Big City you must all swear an oath to join the army of the soulless. So, that you become a body with no life, a machine with no individual will of your own. A thing that swallows the empty platitudes that dominate the cityscape. The correct instructions & programming that that you were born with – i.e. the contours of Life itself has now gone – that is to say – you have renounced Life itself, & replaced it with Death.

With that accomplishment done, Evil can now ply its trade in full upon you. That way people will see bad as good & good as bad. Then they will voluntarily enter the death camps looking for salvation, well-being & happiness from a cult & camp of death itself.

Brainwashed & re-programmed out of knowing what Life itself is & what it means, they now unwittingly plea to the gateholders of death for a chance to die. When an agent of Death supplies the wish, you have a fleeting sense of joy that feels real. You have been given your chance to move up the social ladder that is a total illusion, based on manufactured false scarcity.

They pray & worship the grimmest of reapers that have the run of those urban un-living nightmares called ‘Big Cities’. They are then given a gravestone to carry around with them – a Corporate Job in the Big City.

Armed with this Job there is nothing left to do but die. And that is what people in their millions & now perhaps billions do. The Evil has succeeded in destroying the Life that you used to have. And you gave it away easily.

But you don’t need to.

So, you can leave the Corporate Job & the Big City. You can start to get Life itself back. Or you can stay in the Big City & preach about what it actually is – a Death Cult, far more insidious that Auschwitz could have ever hoped to be. Point out to the infected that they have been made to think down is up & good is bad, bad is good. The reception will be more than bad – but if one soul is saved then your mission is accomplished. For if this happens, the saved person will save another, then soon it is only a matter of time before the lies are all noticed & the Death Camp, The Death Cult, The Death Economy, The Death Gatekeepers, The Corporate Death Jobs, & The Big City completely folds.

Why not help that Big City meet its True & final destiny a little faster than it otherwise would have? Or you can continue to blindly serve in the ranks of the Evil army of the walking dead.

M.A.S. 30/05/2025

“The Economy (Wants You Dead)” (An Idea)

by Martin Anton Smith

The Economy wants all your time,

All your energy,

All your attention.

While you’re its useful slave – it’ll run you ragged, daily.

It’ll make you sit & stare at a eye ruining-dopamine destroying – 25 fps-flickering-doom screen.

And they work you’re doing isn’t any more real,

Than the social construct that created it.

The “story” is that down the line something “of value” is produced.

That’s a lie – 90% of what’s produced is in reality a by-product.

The real product is Brainwashing – the product/service is in actuality, just the derivative of that.

“Holidays away for the plebs” – Brainwashing to squeeze the last remainder of cash from the slaves.

“House, Land + Mortgage package” – designed to trap you as a Modern Slave to “The Economy”.

“Brand Marketing” – hacks your biological need for social acceptance.

“Alcohol fueled weekends” – designed to make you forget last week but ensure you show up Monday.

The idea of a “Career” – this is to induce you to ditch your family & community in your home town.

The “Career” pretends to pay you more so to justify casting away responsibility to your community.

The “Career” or “Full time Job” in The Economy wants to half kill at least 75% of the World.

These 75% are the ones that agree to be Totalised Slaves in & to the system.

By deft chicanery “The Economy” kills all the slave’s energy & extinguishes any “life spark” they have.

This death dished by “The Economy” has these bedfellows

Feelings of hopelessness

Dispair

Loneliness

Isolation

Bad blood pressure

Heart disease

Liver disease

Anti depressant mania

I could list more of course but you get my drift.

So that 75% are the captured ones in the system, that are dying spiritually & energetically.

The other 25% are those that literally die on the streets.

They function as a constant warning to the other 75% – that things could even be worse if you copy them.

The 25% die on the Streets because they can’t reach ‘minimum employment standards’,

OR they it is because the refused to partake in the only system on offer – THE ECONOMY.

“The Economy” kills most these 25% withing 10 years of being on the streets.

“The Economy” is the inverse of Earth’s natural abundance.

“The Economy” creates Artificial scarcity of everything you want,

But creates an Artificial Surplus of The Worker Slave Pool:

This is called “Structural Unemployment” & is permanent by design.

It Keeps the Slaves wages & requests down to a minimum.

I could go on forever, but it suffices to summarise:

“The Economy” is what you should be afraid of,

Rally against,

See its Propaganda,

Use it against itself.

It wants the whole world either dead inside or dead on the streets.”

“The Economy” – the first Virtual Reality ever invented.

So stop being a sucker, a modern-day Slave to The Economy.

Why pledge your allegiance & life for a mirage?

Why be The Evil Machiavellians whipping boy?

There is no need my friend.

When you can know all this & still choose to smile through it all.

“The Economy” will notice you still have your soul intact.

Then that Beast will see you’re living well.

And that is, as they say, the best Revenge you can have.

“This is my best guess” (A thought)

By Martin Anton Smith

In the year 2024 it has become far to easy for everyone to become ‘Spectors’ – that is to say, ghosts from the present.

Why this may be I can only speculate – but perhaps it is similar to how a fine new dress shoe would deteriorate if it were too much misused as a running shoe.

I believe my assessment holds at least a few drops of water.

Will these societal blasts of misfortune abate soon? Lamentably I cannot answer in the affirmative just yet.

Perhap on the morrow this inclement barbarousity shall be lightened by some cosmic painters brush?

Alas the prior statement seems inordinately in the realms of what is called ‘wishful thinking’ – but are these the last gasps of the drowning man?

Of that – we cannot yet ascertain.

Perhaps the answer will only come when we rid ourselves of our deadly addiction to hiring awful, treasonously behaving, cowardly civic leaders.

This is my best guess.



“The Canberra Jobseeker Bites Off The Correct Amount He Can Chew” (Political Satire)

by Martin Anton Smith

Jobseeker: I’m looking for a new role

Recruitment Officer: Ham or Cheese

Jobseeker: No I want a job, that’s why I’m here!

Recruitment Officer: But Isn’t eating tasty food better that working?

Jobseeker: How did you get a job as a Recruitment consultant?

Recruitment Officer: I’m moonlighting as a Caterer; we can talk jobs later – so I can sell you a Ham for $5 or a Cheese for $7

Jobseeker: But I have no money – that’s why I need a job!

Recruitment Officer: If you buy a sandwich, I’ll give you a job.

Jobseeker: If you give me a job, I’ll buy a sandwich.

Recruitment Officer: Ok Ok – your job will be in Food Prep

Jobseeker: Ok I’m desperate – I’ll do it – when do I start?

Recruitment Officer: Right now – make a Cheese & then a Ham Sandwich, pay is $1 per sandwich.

Jobseeker: Done can I have my two dollars?

Recruitment officer – yes here it is (pays them).

Jobseeker: Thanks this is a move in the right direction.

Recruitment officer: Ok now to complete our bargain – here are the two sandwich’s, $12 dollars please.

Jobseeker: But I only have the $2 you paid me to make them both!

Recruitment Officer: True – & that’s why I am prepared to offer you a $10 ‘Sandwich Mortgage’ at very reasonable rates!

Jobseeker: This is all just a giant Scam isn’t it! Where are you morals you shyster!

Recruitment Officer: Welcome to the exciting new world of work in 2024! Sorry what’s that word you said – Morals? Is that a new type of sandwhich?

Jobseeker: Man – I’ll never try to get a job for the Australian Treasury again! I never knew this is how you make your surpluses!

Recruitment Officer: Let’s just say “Sandwich-o-nomics” has been a fantastic fiscal policy ever since Keating left office!

Jobseeker: Damn – I should have known we were still stuck in the Howard Years!!

Recruitment Officer: Sadly this is true – & you Australian battlers have been screwed like mad! The good news is “Sandwhich-o-nomics” has allowed Canberra Politicians to cream it!

Jobseeker: You charlatan…you swindler…you…you….snake oil salesman!

Recruitment Officer: Do you need some? We sell it at the Parliament doors 100% quality Snake Oil as pressed by the aging John Howard himself!

Jobseeker: hmmm…desperate time call for desperate measures…Do you have any Keating snake oil – that stuff might actually work!

Jobseeker: Hey hey hey – what do you think this place is? A free market? This is Howard era ‘Sandwhich-O-nomics’ my friend – competition is not needed wanted or desired!

Jobseeker: ok ok – give me the Howard snake oil then.

Recruitment Officer: Ok it’s $10 per bottle

Jobseeker: Do you take sandwiches as currency? Thanks to you, that’s the only way I can pay you.

Recruitment Officer: Man you’re really getting into the swing of Sandwich-o-nomics” – I feel a surplus coming on!

Jobseeker: I would protest but this Aussie Battler has had their life squeezed out of them!

Recruitment Officer: haha Sandwich-o-nomics strikes again!

Jobseeker: Can I have a loan?

Recruitment Officer: Sure first just squeeze this snake’s oil into this bottle & sign this document.

Jobseeker: That better be a real snake.

Recruitment Officer: In Sandwich-O-nomics nothing as guaranteed.

Jobseeker: Oh brother!

Recruitment Officer: Yes we can recruit him too!

Jobseeker: Where is the door?

Recruitment Officer: Under Sandwich-o-nomics there are no doors – only windows.

Jobseeker: So ‘Sandwhich-o-nomics’ has really got me screwed 100% no matter what I do!?

Recruitment: It’s a beautiful system – now excuse me I must pray 3 times on the hour to the grand Poobah of Sandwich-o-nomics

Jobseeker: Is that John Howard?

Recruitment Officer: Are you angling for a promotion?

Jobseeker: Have you got any jobs making antique watches?

Recruitment Officer: Yes – but it’ll cost you 3 months salary.

Jobseeker: Who do you think I am? Paul Keating?

Recruitment Officer: I thought you were him! That’s why made all this crap up!

Jobseeker: Shhh don’t tell anyone….I’m here to secretly scuttle the AUKUS deal

Recruitment Officer: Sorry I don’t sell those deep-sea sardines in brine water.

Jobseeker: Oh good I’ve already won! that was easier than i thought! I retire forthwith!

Recruitment Officer: I will remember you always! Lets celebrate! Ham or Cheese!

Jobseeker: Cheese please – I’m not one to ham it up!

Recruitment Officer: Touche!