When I was a kid, we rode bikes, rowed small boats, climbed trees, worked in the garden that surrounded the farmhouse, worked among the thirty acres of apples, bult dams in the creek, chopped wood, watched, and sometimes helped, as Dad built things, like the house we lived in, a twenty-foot launch, a shed, and … Continue reading When I was a kid ….
Yes, life is short, but you don’t have to rush it.
Cartoonist Lalo Alcaraz on satire in a time of Donald Trump. As I watched the US presidential election unfold, as though he was my president, I asked myself why? Why not the same attention paid to the Chinese, Russian, Indian, Turkish, German, French leadership elections. Well, some of them are fake processes. As one Egyptian … Continue reading The Great Rigger
Here's a piece I wrote some time ago, but thought I'd revisit it after meeting a chap who loves to iron. And do housework. What a man! I’m not alone. There are other men like me. Men who love ironing. We meet, surreptitiously, suspiciously and sometimes out in the open. We talk in quiet, subdued … Continue reading Men of the Iron
The bad news is relentless. Let me briefly refer to two widely reported items and then offer some assistance to those of us who have to face deniers and resisters. Given I grew up in a fire prone area, first up is Greg Mullins, a former head of Fire and Rescue NSW and a self-proclaimed … Continue reading Slogans, dogma and labels from the paths of resistance
In the old days when my knees were good and my hair was funny, I worked as a standup comedian. It all started in the early 1980s when there was nowhere to do it and people like me worked night clubs, busker’s competitions, anywhere we could stand in front of people, talk and willingly accept … Continue reading When laughs cost money
Sadly, the America currently screening on our television sets, computers, and our phones, is not new to me. It reminds me of the America first revealed through radio, newspapers and stories, way back in the 1950s and 60s. Angry mobs running, rioting, looting, screaming at police and national guardsmen who sometimes shoot at, and kill … Continue reading The sad and sorry history of repetition
For over two years now I have been taking calls for a Mitchell Basta, or Vasta. Who is he? No idea. Why am I taking his calls? Because, somehow, my mobile number has become his. At first, because the messages were pre-recorded with a pleasant female, foreign accented, voice and there was no one to … Continue reading The strange and curious case of Mitchell Basta/Vasta
Whenever authors release a new novel, my guess is there are always one or two individuals they would like to read the work, above all other readers. In my case, there were two, who, unfortunately, have both left us. The first was my father, Stan Doust, an avid reader, who once said to me: “Sometimes … Continue reading Two wise men
Great year to release a book, she said. I laughed. I needed a laugh. Clearly, it is not a year for book releases – no launches, no public appearances, no signings. Doesn’t matter if it was the best book you ever wrote, the one to get you in the literary hall of fame. Anyway, there … Continue reading 2020 the year of the book