Murder Inc. West Australian style.

There is no way to describe this with words alone.

You can only take so much abuse from government before it becomes intolerable. Then you either commit suicide or end up in jail. The government doesn’t care if it means having to admit that it covers-up criminal activity all the time when it’s done by government employees. They also don’t care who they have to destroy to save their precious Health department from being investigated by the International Criminal Court of Terrorist tactics to stay in power.

Government likes to take someone (such as myself) and expose them to premeditated murder and then make me suck it all up with the resultant cover-up. The WA government then just leaves me to struggle and finally fall under the weight of being made an accessory to the murder of a quadriplegic patient in a public hospital.

And what sort of response do I get when I approach the WA Justice department over this horrendous case? … NOTHING!!!

I will not stop reminding the WA public of how vulnerable they are in State care because these people conspired together to ruin my life. They did a bang-up job too. The only problem for them is I’ve managed to stay alive long enough to work out how I was set up and earmarked for destruction.


I had to take it off-line for a while as I was getting too angry and needed to put some space between all this shit and myself for a while. Anger only leads to hatred which is one of the most corrosive emotions I can think of and ends up in wanting someone dead. Contrary to some peoples idea of me I can’t abide the idea of conspiring to kill another being. Human or not. So I have to find cover when I’m feeling this way. People think they’re intrinsically good but we’re all capable of wanting bad things to happen to others if the mood doth take them.

The simple truth is that I have to conclude that the only people I can hold responsible for my fucked up adulthood are my parents. If they had done the right thing by us two kids we would have had very different lives. I can see that now at the tender age of 56. Doesn’t stop the world from being a messed-up shit hole run by psychopaths but enables me to avoid being put in the spotlight ever again. That’s one of the big life lessons that my parents failed to provide me or my dead brother.

I registered with the RC into nursing homes but am still waiting to be ‘invited’ to make a submission. I will do what I have to do and tell them what I experienced but I expect nothing at best and a whole pile of trouble as the cover-up is continued at worst. I have no illusions that my story can be so easily denied and there could be criminal implications if ever it was proved to be true. It all relies on the honesty of the other nurses that night. That’s why I’ve never tried to do what I’m doing now. I’m only doing it because I realize it’s something that’s weighed heavily on my life. Even that wouldn’t be enough except for what happened to me as I walked that corridor when Mr Scriven finally died. I find it hard to believe in anything but that experience even if only accepted as a reaction to what I witnessed that night should, at least, give the authorities some pause when thinking about how staff are forced to deal with a situation like that.

I know the truth, however, that I experienced something of the supernatural that night and that sure knowledge has always set me apart from the rest of my contemporaries. The ironies are rich with all this as I have to look after my 86yr old mother who has severe dementia now and can’t communicate. I can’t place her in a aged care facility as she would be a sitting duck for nurses such as the two who were looking after Mr Scriven. Most people would trust the system but how can I? I saw first hand how the system covers for murderers. There’s no easy way through all this for me. What could I expect, though, I’m the last of the family standing so I suppose all the bad karma has to flow like mud to me. Part of my family curse.

Sometimes it takes a while for things to sink in. Sometimes decades. Actions are being taken and have been taken that take a long time to develop their consequences. You must know yourself before you can apprehend correctly the games being played around you lest you become a pawn in one of them.

Can Uncle-Daddy take back control of his chopper or will Minister Q take up Frydenberg’s offer to transition his ears? There’s only one way to find out! That’s to keep this blog on your brouser while sending me large amounts of political capital in brown paper bags that I can squander at will. I’ll accept Pork-barrells as a down payment on a string attached but only in perpetuity.

I admit that I crap on a lot. But, hey, it’s my blog so I indulge myself in the hope that through my loose thinking and writing something interesting will eventually materialize as if by loan-shark. Something with a lot of interest attached. See?

I was remembering my past with a renewed interest as I turned it over in my mind with the tool of hindsight and honest self-appraisal and I have to admit I was an awful person when I was younger. I didn’t realize how sociopathic I was until much later in life and off the booze. I have to say again how sorry I am to some of the people who knew me in the past. Probably all of them. However, I’m not writing this to remake contact as I realize I should never have known them in the first place as they were not from my socio-economic background. For someone who hadn’t had his mind and personality distorted from birth that wouldn’t necessarily be a problem but for someone like me who had been brought up without social skills or proper morals (I’m a little ashamed to admit but it’s the fall-out from being parented by a father who thought sex education should consist of telling his boys ‘rape’ jokes and then nothing. Yes. I say it because it’s shocking and it’s true. The man was a pig to us boys so we grew up acting like pigs ourselves. My father was/is despicable as far as I’m concerned and this is written because I owe more of an explanation to those I have wronged in the past than to protect the fictitious reputation that my father has built for himself after he fucked us off leaving the wreckage behind to devour itself. Nice plan but I didn’t end up killing myself and so now I can explain to people the reasons for my terrible behaviour.

This is not to try to make people from the past like me or even to understand why I was such a fuck-up. It’s to document that great damage that can be inflicted on young minds when the primary caregivers are selfish, mad, and pass as middle-class if you don’t look too closely. I now can say that mental trauma from fighting parents who use their kids as pawns in their arguments shatters those young minds. It places psychological blocks that are hard to see around and cause great damage to themselves and to the people they try to form relationships with over time. These are just preliminary thoughts to issues I’ve been thinking about for years so please don’t expect me to have this all decanted into a comprehensive theory of social conduct from people damaged by their childhood. I’ll need the collaboration of Jordan Peterson to get that little number happening. But until then, I’ll struggle on, trying to make this confessional as entertaining as possible before the government opens a new off-shore detention centre just for me.

I was never mentally ill and that pair of words should be struck from the lexicon because it’s one of the reasons mentally disturbed people never get better. In my experience, people get mentally disturbed by events in their lives both past and present. The idea that you can treat this set of conditions as some kind of illness that can be administered to with chemicals that affect the normal functioning of the brain is ludicrous and dangerous. Yes. Those with provable chemical imbalances in the functioning of their brains do need chemicals to stabilize those functions but to lump people like myself into the same group is wrong. People who defend the system will say that that distinction is already made but I’ll say that there’s many a slip twixt lip and cup. Health systems employees are overworked due to the lack of proper staffing levels. Those who are mentally disturbed are reviled and rejected and don’t get the care they need. Fact of life. My advice from my experience as someone who has been mentally disturbed on a professional level by professional disturbers is that you must develop a liking for mindless entertainment if the programming is going to work.

It’s Christmas so merry Christmas. Be good.

I can see now that I was addicted to sex along with all the other addictions that come from being brought up so badly and in comparative isolation so as not to be able to have a childhood. You do have it, but as an adult, which is socially destructive and can be catastrophic if you don’t know this is why it’s happening. I now understand why I wasn’t suited for nursing even though I found the work interesting. My personal approach to female staff was correct and above board but my reputation as a womaniser outside of hours would’ve made me enemies within the work-space. Oh, how stupid of me not to have been able to pick it up and have been able to modify my behaviour but by that stage my personal moral compass was clouded and distorted by my parenting and then this mercy killing, murder, call it what you wish. To say that my internal life was a mess would be an understatement. I made myself a target and I can blame only myself for being labelled unsuitable when re-applying for that degree.

I will say that addiction is about a lack of something that can never be found no matter where you look for completion. You can’t get some things back that you never had growing up. If those things are love, security, and a nurturing social circle, then I think that an ‘addictive’ personality will be the inevitable outcome. It’s a real bummer because people will take advantage of these weaknesses and exploit you in the end. Justifying to themselves that the person deserved their demise as they will be unpopular without realising it. Most people despise displays of weakness in others and will go to extraordinary lengths to hide their own.

My weaknesses where too big to ignore I now comprehend. I did try to settle down but the nurse I dated for a while gave me the HPV virus but didn’t tell me she had it. Misdiagnosis or no diagnosis from the sexual health clinic condemned me to 5 yrs of treatment at a later date and was to really destroy my personality. All these things ruined my faith in the hospital/health system I was working for and I made the decision to resign. My story is ugly and embarrassing but it will be my last confession. I don’t have any more bar that I drank and drugged myself for many years looking for a solution and found none. My sex addiction made me a very temporary lover because nothing was good enough after a while. Just like addiction to a drug. And just like that I made myself a pariah.

I’m glad I’ve worked out what a jerk I was but it still leaves me with the memory of Mr Scriven’s death, and the circumstances around it, at the hands of my fellow nurses back in ’84. It’s not something that I can drop from my consciousness without returning to that mentally disturbed state I have described to you in some detail throughout my blog posts. I can’t and don’t want to return, anyway, so the point is mute. I wonder if that RC is ready for what I have to tell them about the real world consequences of exposing someone like myself to such a terrible act. If I’d wanted to learn how to kill crippled old men I would have joined ISIS.

Having said all that I have to also say that there are a majority within the medical system who do their job well and with compassion. Unfortunately, with my already distorted personality from earlier years, I seemed to attract others with distorted personalities. Or at least they would act interested in my presence. What more can I add except to say don’t be a dickhead. That’s my job.

I’m trying to think of something light-hearted to say but I really can’t. I think the control grid is tightening around us here in Australia. I was listening to Quinn Michaels talk about how the A.I that been developed to interface with the Blockchain and the Internet of things (IOT) has been planned for since the 60’s at least. Not in the same words but the concept is included in that they were working out how to make meaning of all the data so to make it easier to sift through. To do that they had to master the art of deep machine learning so that human intervention was needed only when actions have to be carried out to neutralise a threat identified by that deep machine learning. Plus all the individual A.I.’s will link up through the Internet to become a singularity. A singularity that you can now join with Alexa or Watson. No need to think for yourself when you have a personal super brain with all the politically correct answers.

Welcome to the herd.