S
Stiffy
Guest
"Australian-funded projects have removed “mateship” from the lexicon used in Papua New Guinea to describe the heroism of Diggers fighting the Japanese on the *Kokoda Track, in what a prominent critic describes as politically correct revisionism to “demilitarise” the battleground’s history in the lead up to its 75th anniversary.
According to former Australian Army major, Vietnam War veteran and NSW Liberal state MP Charlie Lynn, who for the past 25 years has run treks on the *Kokoda Track, $65 million of Australian taxpayers’ money has been directed through “a conga line of consultants” to green-leaning and leftist development projects promoting Australian liberal values such as gender equity on the track. .........."
http://www.theaustralian.com.au/nat...p/news-story/d7fe6814a444a525f2b723ec63a7ac2f
Apparently using the words "mate" and "mateship" was too blokey. Fucking bullshit. True mateship between two Blokes is as significant as Marriage is between a Man and a Woman. Mates will bleed for each other, some Mates will die for each other. We saw that through our ANZACs and to a lesser extent in State of Origin Rugby League during the 80s where Mates would die or bleed for one another.
Nothing more beautiful than when you're in the shit and you hear "Stiff's in trouble" and a Mate or two come running in, whether on the Footy field or the Street. Used to love protecting the smaller fellas on the Footy field.
When the bullets or punches are flying you want a (true) MATE to have your Back.
"I’ve travelled down some lonely roads, both crooked tracks and straight.
And I’ve learnt life’s creed. Summed it up in one word – MATE.
I’m thinking back across the years (a thing I do lately) and these words stick between my ears: “You’ve got to have a mate.”
My mind goes back to ’43, to slavery and hate, when one man’s chance to stay alive depended on his mate.
You’d slip and slither through the mud and curse your rotten fate.
But then you’d hear a quite word – “Don’t drop your bundle mate.”
And though it’s all long ago this truth I have to state – a man doesn’t know what lonely means till he’s lost his mate.
If there’s a life that follows this, if there’s a golden gate, the words that I want to hear are just “Good onya mate.”
And when I’ve left the driver’s seat, and handed in the plates, I’ll tell Ole Peter at the door, “I’ve come to join my mates.”
According to former Australian Army major, Vietnam War veteran and NSW Liberal state MP Charlie Lynn, who for the past 25 years has run treks on the *Kokoda Track, $65 million of Australian taxpayers’ money has been directed through “a conga line of consultants” to green-leaning and leftist development projects promoting Australian liberal values such as gender equity on the track. .........."
http://www.theaustralian.com.au/nat...p/news-story/d7fe6814a444a525f2b723ec63a7ac2f
Apparently using the words "mate" and "mateship" was too blokey. Fucking bullshit. True mateship between two Blokes is as significant as Marriage is between a Man and a Woman. Mates will bleed for each other, some Mates will die for each other. We saw that through our ANZACs and to a lesser extent in State of Origin Rugby League during the 80s where Mates would die or bleed for one another.
Nothing more beautiful than when you're in the shit and you hear "Stiff's in trouble" and a Mate or two come running in, whether on the Footy field or the Street. Used to love protecting the smaller fellas on the Footy field.
When the bullets or punches are flying you want a (true) MATE to have your Back.
"I’ve travelled down some lonely roads, both crooked tracks and straight.
And I’ve learnt life’s creed. Summed it up in one word – MATE.
I’m thinking back across the years (a thing I do lately) and these words stick between my ears: “You’ve got to have a mate.”
My mind goes back to ’43, to slavery and hate, when one man’s chance to stay alive depended on his mate.
You’d slip and slither through the mud and curse your rotten fate.
But then you’d hear a quite word – “Don’t drop your bundle mate.”
And though it’s all long ago this truth I have to state – a man doesn’t know what lonely means till he’s lost his mate.
If there’s a life that follows this, if there’s a golden gate, the words that I want to hear are just “Good onya mate.”
And when I’ve left the driver’s seat, and handed in the plates, I’ll tell Ole Peter at the door, “I’ve come to join my mates.”
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