So the gumbiment has cut off the piss to all the coons. And the military and cops are going to enforce it. And make sure that they don't look at any porn. Or molest the kids.

So what exactly, are they going to do with their new found , and enforced, spare time?

First step...

Do a resume.

Yeah right.

And your skills are?

Oh, ok, so most of your time you are in the long grass drinking woobla. Or bashing whoever, for whatever fucked up reason might be passing through your fried mind. Motivation level - high when early in the day and lacking money or smokes or petrol or duplicating fluid or shoes or alcohol or metho or money or a smoke ; motivation falls off until later - later depending when the party starts- then fuck the world - lets bash, stab, spear, steal, whatever we want...(repeat every day.. until dead).

I'd reckon that without a structured approach to rehabilitaion, training, worth while employment opportunities and basic social behaviourial expectations - (like actually showing up and having enthusiasm for your work), the situation will become interesting to say the least.

The civil libertarists, (if the word exists - if not get fucked, you know what I mean), are starting to howl .

The coons haven't started yet.

Wait till the tap goes off.

Just returned from a short trip up north, around Geraldton way. It was worth the drive, and putting up with all the magoos driving fucken caravans, to catch a fish like this.
The first day was a wipe out for fishing due to the weed banks that came in - not a chance of getting a line out in that shit. Day two was a different story - fucken beautiful - gentle breeze - warm and sunny - and heaps of bites.
The mulloway, or kingfish, took a mulie on braided line - well actually the cunt fucken nailed it that hard that it nearly took the end of my finger off where I had it resting on the line.
I cooked the fillets over my campfire and they were the best tasting fish I've had for a while - you can't beat fresh!!!
The last day started out with the red sky and a change in the weather to a howling and bitter easterly wind at about 30 knots. All the fish fucked off, and so did I.