HOW TONE SLEEPS AT NIGHT
Tone dreams of clean business suits and well made, figure-hugging designer dresses. He dreams of clean cities, and well behaved, short haired young men and submissive, sweetly smiling long haired young women going from their private schools to their well-kept homes full of furniture. Tone dreams of a world where the dirt cannot be seen, where the wealth is not shared, and those who work hard at business and industry are rewarded accordingly. Do you live in a low socio-economic area? You’re not working hard enough. Are you unemployed? You’re not trying hard enough. Are you depressed? You’re not jogging on the beach enough. Why don’t you just work harder, guys? Why don’t you just eat healthily and get some exercise and stop taking drugs and having babies before you finish high school and just nip that cycle of poverty in the bud, people of not-well-educated Australia? Tone dreams of not having to deal with those types.
Tone dreams of handshakes with the rich and the powerful. Tone dreams of interviews where the questions don’t have to be answered, and he dreams of interviewers who want to talk about his beautiful daughters, but only the good things, how they’re good beautiful daughters. Tone dreams of giving his beautiful daughters the best possible chance in life, that is what he has worked for, why shouldn’t they reap the benefits? If the other students’ parents had worked harder in their lives, perhaps they could provide as well as he can.
Tone dreams of the Iron Lady, and aspires to be iron like her. Tone dreams of her success, and hardly thinks about the cultural explosion of reaction against her. He does not think of those who cannot wrap their minds around numbers, figures, dollar signs. He does not think of those who are unable to work the kinds of jobs that bring in the higher figures to their bank accounts. Instead he winks, when he hears of their attempts, and disrespects the collective struggle of those who cannot, for whatever reason, work for industries that rape the land, industries that rape humanity’s soul.
Tone dreams of a landscape free of windmills, and of a landscape full of holes. He cannot see the coral under the water, will not see the eco-systems. There’s no money there. Tourism is only for chocolate factories, for bridges. Tone dreams of exposing the resources from within, the money lives underground, and is increased from the paper pushing within the buildings in the cities. Tony dreams of the city where all the money trickles to and from. Follow the money there, if you want it, guys. Follow the money. That’s what counts, in the dreams of Tone.
Tone dreams of keeping Australia beautiful. Tone dreams of a nation that respects and honours militarism. Tone dreams of bludgers put to work doing the things that he would never dream of doing, he dreams of creating a green army. It will teach them new skills- cleaning skills, fence building skills- and maybe then they can get proper hair cuts and keep their front lawns tidy. Get off the booze, bludgers, don’t you care for your families? For your health? Tone does not care for mental health, because the style he keeps in his brain chemicals make him think that he can do what he wants. He’s in charge. He dreams that he has a mandate.
Tone dreams of the crown, and of accolades gifted by the crown. He dreams of knightship, dameship, and a healthy, shiny stream of gold from this land’s bucket of resources, flowing over the ocean back to the mother country. He dreams no dreams of the earth as creator, as mother, of humanity as keeper of a sustainable environmental balance for the benefit of humanity’s survival. Tone dreams of humans as workers who can keep the economy lively and moving, but he has no dreams of innovation, of invention, of sustainability.
Tone dreams of competition. A competitive market. A competitive lifestyle. Get a leg up if you can, because you can, and it’s all fair play in a free Australia, and Australia is open for business. Business is competitive; it’s the only way for progress. Invite the investors, let them compete, let them make jobs for a bit and discourage faith in the unions so the workers don’t reap too much. The workers aren’t in charge, it’s the industry, and it’s big, and the unions only get in the way.
Tone dreams of Sydney, not Melbourne. Tone dreams of London, not Berlin. When Tone dreams of Darwin, he doesn’t see a rich, complex cultural history; he sees a Black Hole, best left for someone else to deal with.
Tone dreams of roadways from the suburbs to the cities, not of train lines across the country. Connecting regional areas to the rest of the country more easily is not on his agenda.
Tone dreams of concrete, not of red dirt, or forest, or grassland.
Tone dreams of perfect teeth in office buildings, he does not think of the missing teeth seen so often in the mouths of those who can’t afford to keep them.
Tone dreams of universities earning their own money, a fair free market.
Tone dreams of no future but that of his own.