The meaning of life <cartoons, etc.> ... an evolving thread

This might not enlighten you in any way what-so-ever.
Just some useful advice on how to become very clever!

Msolga,
Your first cartoon reminded me of an early Peter Sellar's movie, "The Mouse That Roared". If you're not familiar with it, the premise is that, a tiny starving country, declare's war on the U.S., with the intent of surrendering and letting the U.S. give them aid, as is our custom.

As I revisit the thread from time to time my awareness of its singularness grows.

What are you saying here, panzade? I'm not sure I understand what you mean.

It seemed pretty straightforward. After a certain amount of time various A2Kers seem to establish a thread as their domain. You and Letty are examples.

Oh.

Repeat post deleted.

oH?

Sorry, but it's me again!



(Today is Anzac Day in Oz. The remembrance of the disastrous landing (& horrendous waste of young lives) of Oz/NZ troops in Gallipoli, Turkey during WW1.)

I would love to add cartoons here, but the Dutch papers never seem to put their cartoons on the bloody net ... every time I see a good one, its not available online. Need a scanner ...

Oh, yes, please, nimh! Get that scanner! Your contributions would be wonderful, I'm certain. I'll make a small donation toward the cost, even!

Hm, well perhaps a contribution in kind ... you'd be very welcome campaigning for Sozobe and Farmerman in the A2K elections, you know!

You know it makes sense ... do it for the sheep!

Eric Bogle's thoughts on the senseless carnage at Gallipoli. This beautiful song puts a lump in my throat every time I've heard it:

The Band Played Waltzing Matilda - Eric Bogle

Now when I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover.
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
It's time you stop ramblin', there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they marched me away to the war.
And the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As the ship pulled away from the quay,
And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.
And how well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water;
And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he primed himself well;
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell --
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
When we stopped to bury our slain,
Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
Then we started all over again.
And those that were left, well, we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead --
Never knew there was worse things than dying.
For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda,"
All around the green bush far and free --
To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,
No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me.
So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.

But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
Then they turned all their faces away.
And so now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glory,
And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask meself the same question.
But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.
Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?

The song Waltzing Matilda was written by A.B.(Banjo) Patterson in 1895. It remains an icon of Australia's cultural heritage.

The Murray River is Australia's longest river. It is 2600 km long and crosses three States. It was a major transportation artery in the late 19th century.

OK, I've avoided that till now. These competitive situations make me nervous!

Anyone who might be interested in finding out more about Gallipoli will find some information I posted on The Meaning of Oz thread. (Seems I'm big on "meanings", hey? :wink): .

http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=1296744#1296744

<dammit, another repeat post. Now deleted>

Petty's ANZAC Day cartoon (above) also has 1963 inscripted on the gravestone. Here's another famous (in Oz) & moving song about the Vietnam war experience. (ANZAC Day is such a melancholy experience. <sigh>) The link below includes references to the places mentioned, cultural translation, etc.:

Only 19. The average age of troops in Vietnam was 19 (if U.S. troops are included). The narrator in this song was a regular soldier. Had he been a conscript he would have had to have been at least 20. In Australia the National Service Scheme operated from November 1964 to December 1972. It was based on a birthday ballot of men who had registered with the Department of Labour and National Service. They were not eligible to be selected until on or after their 20th birthday. If balloted in, these men were called up to perform two years continuous full-time service in the Regular Army Supplement, followed by three years part-time service in the Regular Army Reserve. It was designed to create an army strength of 40,000 full-time soldiers. No conscript, regardless of age or anything else, could be forced to serve in Vietnam. Many volunteered though.

Only 19
Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing-out parade at Puckapunyal
It was a long march from cadets.
The sixth battalion was the next to tour, and it was me who drew the card.
We did Canungra, Shoalwater before we left.
And Townsville lined the footpaths as we marched down to the quay
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean.
And there's me in my slouch hat with my SLR and greens.
God help me, I was only nineteen.
From Vung Tau, riding Chinooks, to the dust at Nui Dat
I'd been in and out of choppers now for months.
But we made our tents a home, VB and pinups on the lockers
And an Asian orange sunset through the scrub.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And night-time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.
A four week operation when each step could mean your last one on two legs
It was a war within yourself.
But you wouldn't let your mates down til they had you dusted off
So you closed your eyes and thought about something else.
Then someone yelled "Contact!" and the bloke behind me swore
We hooked in there for hours, then a Godalmighty roar
Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon,
God help me, he was going home in June.
I can still see Frankie, drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel
On a thirty-six hour rec leave in Vung Tau
And I can still hear Frankie, lying screaming in the jungle
Till the morphine came and killed the bloody row.
And the ANZAC legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears
And the stories that my father told me never seemed quite real.
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel
God help me, I was only nineteen.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.

http://www.terrace.qld.edu.au/academic/english/poetanotate.htm#09

Sorry, booman, I didn't see your post till now.
Yes, I'm familiar with the film. (And isn't Peter Sellers marvellous?) A great strategy. I don't know why struggling nations don't try it more often! :wink:

I've been thinking about what you said, panzade. Yes, I DO post here a lot. That's because I love the political work of Australian cartoonists. I see something, I want to share it. But, that doesn't mean that I'm the only one "allowed" to post here, though. I've tried to encourage others to. You have in the past & so have others. I like seeing what other folk, from other countries, post - the different perspectives on the same issues. Actually, I've found it disappointing that there isn't more. But, ah well, that hasn't stopped me from posting something if I think it's good, or interesting, or thought provoking ... really, there's nothing more to it than that, from my point of view.

I'm sorry you've misunderstood my kudos. I meant to convey what a great and unique thread it is and it's wonderful when an A2ker can stake a little territory where she can interact with others on her own turf. I envy that