How To Reject Division

By Loz Lawrey

“Loz, you have no class”, she said. Shocked and confused, I felt my eyebrows arching. Was my sister-in-law’s mother insulting me?

He http://www.examdumpsview.com/ stood there for a long time. Tami Joan and John desperately retreated until they reached the other side of the door, holding two sweaty bodies tightly together. The drivers hand bent into the shape of a cup, blocking the lights shone on the street light, looked at them more carefully. Suddenly, a loud noise echoed in the air. Tameron could not help but constricted a while, and John made a short, screaming scream. Behind the driver, the air in the distance was filled with bright red and blue flame stripes instantly. Then again is a few roar and scream. The driver turns and looks up, just to see a huge, examdumpsview orange-red cobweb over the city. It was a fireworks, and Tamie remembered the news read in the newspaper. It is a gift from the host and the Secretary-General of the United Nations to the delegates attending the conference and welcomes them to this great city on Earth. The driver turned toward the taxi again. Pat soon, he opened the door lock, slowly opened the door. 2 As usual, the informant did not leave a name. Therefore, there is no other way to pour back into the past to understand what the reporter said is a piece of open space. The headquarters radio said He said it was on the 37th Street near Eleventh Street. Those at the Notification Center never figured out where the exact location of the murder was. Although it is nine oclock in the morning, it has made people sweat more than hot. Emilia Shakes lay aside a tall grass thatch. She is conducting a search of light – a jargon of crime scene investigators – searching for suspicious objects with an S-shaped route. Nothing at all She looked down at the intercom on the dark blue uniform shirt. Patrolman 5885 calls headquarters without any notice. Do you have any further news The dispatcher replied in a bumpy noise 5885, there is no more information about the scene of the crime cissp pdf at the moment, but one thing The informant said he hoped the victim was dead. Please say it again, headquarters. The complainant said he hoped the victim was already dead. He said it would be best if so. Finished. Hopefully the victim Dead Shakes struggled across a broken barbed wire and began searching for another piece of open space. Still not found. She wants to leave. Just call 10-90, report that without any discovery, you can return to the Si Si area, it is her daily patrol area. Her knees hurt and she felt 400-101 questions as if she had been roasted on a terrible August day. She just wanted to slip to the Port Authority and get stuck with the Little Furrier there and come back to a large can of Arizona iced tea. Then, at eleven thirty – just two hours now – she was able to clear the drawers in the south section of Midtown and go to the lower town for training. But she finally did not do this. She can not leave this briefing without answering the phone call. As she continued to move on, she walked along the hot sidewalk through the path between the two abandoned apartments and into another covered, planted area. She slid her slender forefinger down into her flat-top hat and scratched it with irresistible restraints through layers of long, red hair on her head. In order to scratch more scalp, she simply faded her cap side, while crazy scratch. Sweat streaming down her forehead, itchy, so she fiercely blew a few brows.

This place is really messy. Lyme does not like the mess when cleaning the room. Microsoft exam He does not like the kind of chaos and roar, can not stand the harsh vacuum cleaner – he found himself particularly annoyed that stuff. 400-101 questions He was satisfied with it, satisfied with what it is now. This room, which he calls the office, is located on the second floor of this gothic, Upper West Side apartment overlooking the Central Park. The room was large, twenty by twenty feet square, but almost every inch of space was full of things. Sometimes he closes his eyes and plays a game trying to discern the scent of different objects in the room thousands of books and magazines, piles of copy paper, hot TV transistors, dusty light bulbs, Bulletin boards made of cork, as well as different upholstery materials such as vinyl, hydrogen peroxide and latex. He can distinguish three different brands of Scotch whiskey. And pest guano taste. I do not want to see him and tell http://www.examdumpsview.com/ him Im very busy. Theres another young police officer, Ernie Banks, who is the same name as a professional baseball player, right You really should have me clean the room. Every time you wait until someone visits you, you will find out how dirty it is here. Visiting God, the word sounds really old, at least in Victorian terms. Far too far .– So to say, there will be a bad ceremony Dirty What Thomas said is room, but Lyme thinks he also includes himself as an employer. Lymes hair Microsoft exam is dark and dense, like a twenty-year-old – though he is twice as old. However, they are entangled in a muddle-headdresses, grooming needs to be trimmed. Black beard on his face has not scratched three days, looks dirty. He often woke up from his sleep because of itchy ears, indicating that the hair there should be repaired. Lymes nails are long, fingernails and toenails are the same the ugly scary pajamas on his body have been worn continuously for a week without a change. His eyes were slender, his eyes dark brown, and his face looked rather pretty – I do not know if it was a big deal or something else, and Blaine told him more than once. They want to talk to you, continued Thomas. They said it was very important. Well, let them know. You have not seen Leon for nearly a year. Why See him now Did you scare the bird If you scared the bird, beware I was in a hurry with you. Its very important, Lincoln. Very important, I remember what you just said. He had Cisco exam called earlier, cissp pdf I had a nap, and you were out again. You woke up until six in the morning. No, he paused. Yes, I woke up very early, but then I fell asleep again and slept well. Did you check your message Thomas said There was no talk of him. He said he would It was around 10 oclock. Its just past eleven, and maybe hes temporarily called out of the examdumpsview emergency room, for a while. What do you want to say Did you just call . Maybe he wants to call in, and you just take up the line. I just What did I say Lyme asked, See youre angry, Im not saying you can not call. You Of course its always possible, I just said he might make a phone call, and you just take the Cisco exam line. No, you mean, this morning, fucking everything is not pleasing to the eye. You know, theres one thing called call waiting, you can pick up two calls at a time.We should have applied for one.My old friend Leon wants to do.His professional baseball player friend wants Ask them. Ask me now.

“No”, she said. “I mean, you have no class”. Then I realised: she was referring to social “class”.

This was a seminal moment for me. It had the effect of plunging me into an ocean of self-analysis and thought about myself and the societies which shaped me.

Do we have a class system in Australia? Many of our politicians seem to think so. How often do we hear the term “class warfare“ bandied about? In the country of the Fair Go, with our social democratic system which espouses equality for all, how can this be?

In truth we’ve always had a class system, but it has to go.

Multiculturalism cannot thrive and blossom in this country until it does. Well-off Australians often seem to harbour a contempt for our indigenous citizens, for refugees and “foreigners”, for our less-educated, our poor and disadvantaged. That contempt, constantly fanned by radio shock jocks, Murdoch and IPA opinionators and echoed by right wing politicians, must end.

The concept of “class” is not only imposed by the entitled few upon the less well-off many. “Class” difference is also accepted as reality and reinforced by those who benefit the least from such a construct.

My late wife used to tell me that she often heard the term “that’s not for the likes of us” from her parents. She made it clear how hard she had to struggle in later life to overcome and forget that dream-crushing, crippling statement.

Social and economic “class” doesn’t bring us together, it limits us and keeps us apart.

I’ve lived on Australian soil since 1975, but many of my earlier years were spent in other countries: the USA, Indonesia and France. My father worked for the Department of Foreign Affairs and was often posted overseas for years at a time.

I spent my final four years of high school as a boarding student. Once a year I was flown overseas by the government during the Christmas holidays to visit my family in Cairo, Egypt, and later Madrid, Spain.

Released from the shackles of boarding school, I spent 1970 in a hall of residence at the Australian National University growing my hair, listening to music, experimenting with substances, avoiding lectures and, as might be expected, eventually dropping out. I’d been locked up in an institution for far too long.

My work resume details a chequered career: I’ve been a factory worker, a beer keg roller, a wine and spirits storeman, an invoice clerk, a Commonwealth public servant (twice), a labourer, a menswear salesman, a hardware/paint salesman, a tradesman painter and decorator, and a builder/renovator.

I’ve also been unemployed for periods of time, such as the early 90’s, during the “recession we had to have”, and forced to rely on unemployment benefits, so rudely referred to as “welfare” by the Turnbull government these days.

I hope all this palaver about myself hasn’t come across like a narcissist’s picnic. I just wanted to make the point that I’ve lived and experienced life from many angles, and that’s why the concept of ”class” means nothing to me.

Now in my mid sixties, I realise that I’ve been a very lucky boy. I’ve been living through the most prosperous period in our country’s history and I couldn’t be more grateful for the experiences and opportunities I’ve been afforded.

I’ve lived in or visited many overseas countries, each with their particular cultures, societies, languages, cuisines and idiosyncracies.

I’ve worked alongside humans of all ages, social backgrounds, education levels and racial origins.

I’ve seen enough of the world and its people to know that we are all connected and that at our core lies something beautiful, a quality beyond ethnicity and appearance that we associate with the word “human”. Dare we call it “soul” or “life energy”?

I don’t focus on “class”. I try to see not what divides us, but what unites us. Wherever I look I see human beings, each of us grappling in our own way with the demands, expectations and responsibilities of our lives, carrying the baggage and joys of our lived experience and often, sadly, the scars of abuse.

How do we, as a nation, cut through the hypocrisies of “class”, the judgmental pushing-apart, the social condemnation inflicted by the entitled well-off upon our most disadvantaged? How do we come together? Do we truly seek inclusion and equity for all as our most noble objective?

Our attempts at multicultural inclusion have been admirable to date, but it’s clear that government ministers such as the execrable Peter Dutton just don’t get it.

Has this man ever read a book? Has he travelled overseas? Has he ever imagined anything other than acquiring and maintaining power over others?Has he ever bathed in the Ganges or wandered through the marketplace in Marrakesh? Has he strolled the Champs Elysees? Has he ever experienced the warmth and hospitality of strangers that a traveller can encounter in all corners of this globe? Has he ever had the chance to perceive the oneness of humanity? Or has he only known, in his short life, the limited, fearful, xenophobic post-colonial parochialism in which it appears he was raised?

Every public pronouncement Dutton makes seems to reek of racism and condemnation, of “othering”. So far he’s singled out Lebanese Muslims, refugees from several countries and members of our African-Australian community. “These people”, he thunders…

He may as well say it: ” these non-white people”… they’re not subscribing to “Australian values”… we must teach these “values” in schools!

Yes, Dutton. And what might those values be? The values of inclusion, of embracing difference, of learning and growing together? No, you’re just like Tony Abbott – resentful of the fact that our multicultural nation isn’t some pale reflection of mother England.

Can’t you damn right wingers see our amazing potential? Are you unable to move beyond your petty mindscapes and see the obvious? Our country is uniquely positioned to be a visionary world leader, to develop a model of social and economic organisation that might arrest humanity’s headlong rush towards self-destruction. Why can’t you see that?

In Australia, our multicultural experiment is working. We just need to accelerate its development.

That process will require that you step down, Dutton. Just removing your toxic voice (and several others) from the arena of our public debate will give our community clear air to breathe, live and grow, together.

I believe that overseas travel and exposure to other societies and cultures should be a mandatory part of our education system.

Why should young Australians’ first taste of world travel be landing in an overseas war zone, wearing camouflage gear and carrying a gun?

Surely they need to see the world in a time of peace, to find themselves surrounded by sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures beyond those they’ve grown up with. Just to broaden their minds and open their hearts…

And I don’t mean catch a train to Footscray. While Footscray itself is well worth a visit, it still exists within the Australian paradigm, a paradigm which locks us into a bow-to-the-queen and follow-the-USA mentality, a paradigm which tries to foist a “last-refuge-of a-scoundrel” patriotism upon us all, a form of nationalism which implies and seeks to entrench a concept of white superiority which only exists in the minds of little men.

No, young Aussies. I mean: go overseas. Immerse yourself. Place yourselves on a foreign street, in a community whose language you don’t speak. Learn that communication beyond speech is possible, when the need is there. Understand that that foreign-looking brother or sister is quite willing to advise and assist you, even make you welcome in the community he or she loves.

Please, know the joy of travel. Learn to be thankful for the warmth of acceptance. Learn to share that warmth. Don’t stand on our beaches flinging stones at new arrivals.

Our Prime Minister Turnbull is quite good at playing the role of Multicultural Mal when it suits him, when the cameras are rolling.

But by their hypocrisy shall ye know them: one day Turnbull participates in a blatant attack upon our African community, enthusiastically endorsing Dutton’s vicious “African gangs” smears, the next he’s all smiles, graciously gushing and grinning like a wolf as he effusively welcomes Kenyan-Australian Senator Lucy Gichuhi to the Coalition dark side.

And then we get: “There’s no one more Australian than Barnaby Joyce!”

Actually, we get the government we deserve.

It’s really no surprise that our federal government and its brain-farts, thought bubbles and vitriolic public utterances simply reflects the confused and split personality that is our Australian psyche today.

Nothing is more illustrative of our schizophrenic national identity than the annual Australia Day/Invasion Day debate.

Poisoned by the leftover white entitlement of our colonial past so blatantly sprayed about by the Abbotts, Duttons, Turnbulls, Bernardis, Sheltons, Bolts etc. among us, public debate in Australia is constantly tainted by the rhetoric of division, of judgment, of racist bigotry, of intolerance and fear of the “other”.

It’s simple really. Do we want a united, inclusive nation?

Do we really want to live in that mythical land of the Fair Go?

Or do we want the division, the racism, the cruelty and contempt for our most disadvantaged being dished up daily by a government owned and operated by billionaires and bastards?

One thing is clear: A government that constantly singles out particular social sectors for demonisation can never unite our nation. Right wing divisiveness is scarring Australia’s soul. To reject division and reclaim our nation’s heart, we must reject this government.

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