He has two battered knapsacks slung over his shoulders, plastic bags hung like curtains on one arm, tattered clothing from head to toe, what looks to be the remnants of an ancient umbrella in the clutches of his other hand. I’ve seen this gentleman line up for food from local charities, seen him walk from one end of our small city to the other, watched him sit patiently on a park bench in the middle of the city centre. At times, when the weather gets too cold, in that very brief period between the close of shops in the mall and the final lockdown of the buildings, he makes his way through the glass doors and sits by the nearest air vent, calm, quiet, by himself. I don’t know his name, his story, his background, yet in my city of 350,000 people, he is as ever-present as the great House on the Hill not far from here. He is but 1 of the 105,000 Australians who sleep on the street every single night. We’re not talking about Bangladesh or India or Colombia; this is the Lucky Coun...
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro’ the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Livingston may have been both blind and deaf to not recognize the endless work of the Elves of the North Pole, when the very night before Earth’s greatest KPIs are to be met, he cannot sense the hustle and bustle of history’s greatest working force. With an ever growing population of children whose stockings and trees and gift boxes must be filled, Santa’s Elves have never worked harder, or longer, or faster, or been less able the time to watch Days of Our Lives on television. They work around the clock, in repetitive, mind numbing, unchallenging tasks, which though for the greater good nevertheless give rise to increasing incidents of mental instability, from 1 elf in 1932, as evidenced in the Disney movie “Santa’s Workshop”, to several dozen, as shown in Will Ferrell’s “Elf”. These skilled workers under incredible pressure are offered no pay, only room and board...
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