September 12th, 2025Kyle’s Rant
In my last column I wrote how proud I am to be Gen X and not a car-jacking hoodie-wearing, urban-dwelling Gen Z thug.
But I must admit as I tuned in the TV on the evening of August 31 after the nation’s marches, I have to pull my head in. As the cameras panned around there seemed to be a lot of my generation screaming Aussie Aussie Aussie, wrapped in the best synthetic flag material imported from China that money can buy.
The most eloquently spoken was the New Zealand-born Gen Y Thomas Sewell the neo-Nazi leader, who ironically spoke about turning away immigrants. The rest of the crowd weren’t exactly contributing to the dental industry, and by the looks of the turnout numbers, certainly didn’t represent the majority of Australians.
One bloke had his moment on TV but when asked by the ABC reporter what he was there for started smearing Vegemite on his face in a war-paint style. Looking down the barrel of the camera he said: “I’ve got one word to say to you Albo,” and went on for a full two minutes winding up with “you’re fired, Albo.” WTH?
Another peanut in Brisbane was spotted picking up a kebab at the multicultural food fair across the road from the white Australian march to keep his white supremacist energy levels up. It can get hot in those marches and there’s nothing like a $9.99 kebab pack special including a bottle of water and chicken-salted chips to keep the vitriol flowing. I wonder if Katter had one at the Townsville rally?
It feels like I have been stashed under a rock. I had no idea there was so much hatred out in the community, where did these people come from – and all over Australia? I suppose the whole thing’s been put together on “The Facebook”.
It seems like a few rebels without a cause have landed on some sort of common ground, to stop immigration. But this cause is full of contrary and conflicting messaging. The great unwashed were at the marches right across the country with mix-matched diatribe. Apart from Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, (you know the rest) their gripes included mainstream media being fake, the housing market, too many people from different cultures coming in and basically grumbling and moaning about their lot in life. And when the smartest one in the room (and that wasn’t hard), old mate Thomas Sewell was asked how long we should stop immigration for, he hadn’t thought the question through, offering up five to 10 years – with a shoulder shrug.
I am an immigrant to Australia. They let me in in 1994 and I became a citizen in the early part of this century, celebrating by getting rather inebriated at a Chinese restaurant in Frankston. But that seems to be okay, because I’m from New Zealand, a knockabout white man who fits in and shares a love of a Bunnings’ breakfast. But if I had come in from a different part of the world my immigration story would be so much different because I apparently wouldn’t fit in.
But come on guys, get your act together, let’s not pull out the racist card and give oxygen to the Romper Stomper Mo-Fo brigade.
Our forefathers fought long and hard to stomp them out. If we have issues sure, march about them, shout from the rooftops, but do it in a civilised way and maybe get a brand manager on board and drill down to just one memorandum to espouse.
Don’t want any part of it, rant over…
(Ed’s note: With the Chinese restaurant, I had arranged for about 12 of our friends to gather as a surprise. When we entered the restaurant, Kyle looked over, and said, with wonder: “Wow, all our friends are here on the same night. What a coincidence.” He had joked with my Nan saying he would need to lose half his brain to become an Australian, and she shot back “but that will leave you with nothing”. Go Nan.)
