Today, really, is not a day for politics — it is a day for celebrating; a day to drink and get merry without coward-punching anyone. What are we celebrating, asks the cucked uni kid in the corner with the Abo flag on his shirt?

We are celebrating our diversity as a people; our rich tradition of multiculturalism which is an example to the rest of the world of how different peoples from diverse ethnic backgrounds and religions can exist in harmony together like all the colours of the rainbow.
We are celebrating the fact that anyone can come here at any time and instantly become an Australian by dint of just standing on our sovereign soil and expressing a liking for Aussie Rules football. You can be as brown as what gets flushed down the crapper; as black as a charcoaled tree stump; as yellow as the pee that flows after too many flutes of Yellowglen; or even White. But not so much White. Nah. Fuck that. That ain’t what it’s all about, chief.
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Arthur Calwell, a TRUE Australian
We are celebrating the beginning of a nation, but more especially, the birth of a unique people. Somewhere between Europeans and settlers Australians evolved; born of the land; born not to sink shivering into the Atlantic briny like lost cargo from the East India Company, but to dive cockily into the foaming surf of Oceania while showing off to your sheila who waits ready with the towel and Chico Roll.
We were born to a dusty, rugged environment, which offers both danger and sustenance; hardship and leisure. We have bulk wildlife that will kill the bungers out of you twice before leaving you for dead; while others, like Koala bears, are cute-as, but pong a bit. We have birds that screech worse than an angry missus on the rag, and which glide gracefully from the branches. Personal faves are Kookaburras and Rosellas.

We are celebrating the beginning of a nation, but more especially, the birth of a unique people. Somewhere between Europeans and settlers Australians evolved; born of the land; born not to sink shivering into the Atlantic briny like lost cargo from the East India Company, but to dive cockily into the foaming surf of Oceania while showing off to your sheila who waits ready with the towel and Chico Roll.

These days, however, we are celebrating Australia Day because if we don’t they will replace it with First Peoples Day or some shit.
We celebrate Australia Day like Catholics celebrated mass under the reformation — risking having the Protestants of Progressiveness bust down our door and drag us off to the dungeon for possessing an Aussie flag and a copy of Sherbet’s Greatest Hits on a USB drive.
We celebrate Australia Day because either they are trying to take it away, like the Communist Greens’ Fremantle mayor, Brad Pettit; or they are making it all about every cunt who isn’t White and wasn’t born here; like the makers of that crap Lamb ad and whoever does the selections for the Australian of the Year awards.
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A true Aussie just gets it. Or maybe they don’t, we’re just fucking around
We will get to the Australian of the Year later, but while we’re on about the war on Australia Day, we have to make mention of the Left Wing grubs and the Abos from the “Decolonise” movement.
Australia Day, to them, is Invasion Day and EVERYONE on the Left spectrum of politics joins in making out like celebrating Australia Day is the equivalent of slavery.
We shall assume, on one level, that the cry to Decolonise, is not meant to be taken literally but signifies a sort of secessionist deal where Abos who don’t like it fuck off and stop claiming the dole. Also, they never ever try to use a Medicare card or put themselves through university on the taxpayers’ tit. They just go and do whatever the hell it is they think they’re going to do.
But then again, let’s take them literally and just spend two seconds peeling apart the utter fantasy at the heart of that sentiment.

We celebrate Australia Day like Catholics celebrated mass under the reformation — risking having the Protestants of Progressiveness bust down our door and drag us off to the dungeon for possessing an Aussie flag and a copy of Sherbet’s Greatest Hits on a USB drive.

Seriously, how the fuck are you going to “decolonise” Australia you stupid bastards? That’s a bit like asking for the sky to turn yellow. Even if certain cucked types wanted to go peacefully and leave Aboriginals with everything — and judging by the performers at this year’s Australian of the Year awards there is plenty of them — what makes you think the Chinese who’ve bought up great swathes of this Southern Land are going to bend the knee and scuttle back to China while whispering, “So solly”?
The “Decolonise” movement is nothing but a whingeing valve for professional malcontents that want an excuse to have a problem with everything and somehow in the age of appeasement that hopefully, the election of Donald Trump will sort out they are being indulged. These whingers have a problem with achievement, in that they are incapable of it. They want to tear down because they cannot build. It is far more profitable for them to be a critic than to be an artist: heaps easier too.
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Funny how Abo activists are never actually Abos
So, celebrating Australia Day is also about sticking it to those hypocritical flag-burning fuckwits who’ll happily take whatever handouts the government loads them with on the taxpayers’ quid; whatever health care and free publicity for their belly aching; but won’t do the decent thing and shut the fuck up for just 24 hours in one year.
But once you brush aside the freaks on the fringe and get down to brass tacks our real reason for celebrating Australia Day is to keep it Australian while the government does everything in its power to push real Australians out of contextual relevance.
You don’t even have to be born in Australia to be Australian of the Year. This year’s NSW Australian of the Year is a Sudanese former child soldier who somehow made it through law school. He has a real sob story and he was “forced” to do it, y’all. But the great Australian dream came true for him at least, never mind any actual Australians, and now he is an inspiration for all those little Sudanese who want to grow up and be famous for being Sudanese too.

So, celebrating Australia Day is also about sticking it to those hypocritical flag-burning fuckwits who’ll happily take whatever handouts the government loads them with on the taxpayers’ quid; whatever health care and free publicity for their belly aching; but won’t do the decent thing and just shut the fuck up for just 24 hours in one year.

But let’s not forget that he is a brainy lawyer. Ho ho. Shrewd, more like. While every other Sudanese is doing car-jackings, home invasions, armed robberies and sexual assaults ‘Deng Adut’ has become a lawyer probably in the knowledge that with his community growing ever so steadily he’ll never go broke practising law.
The media love this skinny ex-child soldier who raped and killed god-knows-how-many. He provides the ultimate globalist narrative which they impose upon Australia Day.
Well, excuse us, but we would’ve thought that Australian of the Year should be an award that goes to an actual Australian and not some dodgy African ambulance chaser.
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Deng Adut, the fully Aussie NSW Australian of the Year with the pimp hat
There is nothing even grounded in Australianness about him anyway — despite the honoured title he is still all about his tribal African people.
His average day in the media sunshine is spent drumming up charity dollars to go to Africans so they can get a freebie university education while actual Aussies have to take on massive HEX debts. The upside of that is that there must be all of three in the entire country who ever qualify but that isn’t the point.

There is nothing even grounded in Australianness about him anyway — despite the honoured title he is still all about his tribal African people.

Inevitably, one day he’ll be busted with twenty-five kilos of pure Bolivian cocaine but until that day comes the Australian of the Year award is used to smack Aussies on the nose with. There is nothing in it for us. Our Australia Day and THEIR Australia Day are two separate ideas.
If UNA could grant an Australian of the Year award this year we would give it to somebody nobody in the country had heard of. This might be a tuck shop woman or an SES volunteer. It might be a salty old bloke who quietly gets around his community and helps young folk out of jams. It might be a surf lifesaver or an animal welfare volunteer. But it sure as fuck wouldn’t be some blow-in alien or anyone that the establishment has deemed acceptable for public approval.
It would be one of youse — a dead set, true blue, no wukkas, you beaut, dinky di, ridgey didge, here’s-mud-in-your-eye Aussie bloke or sheila.
Happy Australia Day!
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We hope this cunt, and all like him, get wiped out in a World War
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