Dad Minus One

If there's two things I am, its stubborn and a stupid ass.

So on Sunday 24 May this year I'll be yet again fronting up at the Run for a Reason here in Perth to represent team Run4Riley and check out the brisk morning surrounded by people far more athletic than I am.

Trust me when I say I'm not the bloke you want leading a running team.

Those of you who were here for the duck incident know exactly what I'm capable of (and for those who weren't just know it involved public defecation, a catastrophic loss of dignity, and a generation of ducks that still hasn't forgiven me).

But here I am. I learned nothing. I'm back again.

And this year I want you with me.

Walk it, run it, wheel it, power-waddle it - I genuinely do not care how you get to that finish line, just that you show up.

There's no fitness requirement and there's no judgement.

There's just the people of WA doing something special for a cause that matters on a personal level to them on a Sunday morning, and honestly that's a pretty beautiful thing.

If you've run with us before, you already know what this day feels like.

If you haven't - come and find out.

And if you've ever wanted to tell me I'm a flog to my face, well, now's your perfect opportunity. 😂

Any distance.

Any pace.

Just bring yourself and maybe a mate who's been looking for an excuse to get off the couch.

Who knows what exciting new way I'll find to lose my dignity this year?

Link in bio to register and join the team.

Oh and if you're already registered with another team that's cool too - come find me and say hi!

💙

-D-1

Last week, in the lead up to Riley's birthday, I asked if any of you were in a position to support the work we do through the Immunisation Foundation of Australia.

I want to be honest, I never know how those posts will land.

There's always a voice in the back of my head that says people have their own bills, their own battles, their own kids to feed.

That asking feels selfish.

That maybe the moment has passed and people have moved on.

I was wrong.

So spectacularly, overwhelmingly, beautifully wrong.

In the space of a week, this community - you legends - raised over twenty thousand dollars.

I need you to sit with that for a second, because I certainly had to.

Twenty thousand dollars.

For a little boy who lived for thirty-two days.

Some of you gave what you could.

Some of you gave more than you probably should have.

Some of you couldn't give financially but shared the post, told a friend, or sent a message that carried more weight than any dollar amount ever could.

And beyond the one-off contributions, a number of you signed up to give monthly.

An ongoing commitment that means this fight doesn't stop when the birthday passes and the posts slow down.

That's a stake in the ground that says this matters beyond a single moment on a calendar.

I won't pretend I have the words to adequately thank you for that, because I don't.

I've built a bit of a reputation for being able to string a sentence together, but this one genuinely has me stumped.

What I can tell you is this:

Every single dollar goes towards making sure that the next young family sitting in a hospital waiting room has access to better information, stronger messaging, and a fighting chance at never having to endure what we did.

That's Riley's legacy.

Not a statistic.

Not a cautionary tale.

A purpose.

And you lot are the ones keeping it alive.

From the bottom of my battered, bruised, and eternally grateful heart - thank you.

For seeing him.

For remembering him.

For fighting alongside us.

💙

-D-1 🥲

PS Normal service to resume shortly

Every year for the last 11 years, February 13 has historically been the hardest day of the year on my calendar.

I don’t plan for it to be that way; and there are days when I wish I could just be put into a sleep pod, but the human brain works in mysterious ways.

You might look on at that and wonder why it is that Riley’s birthday is so much harder than the day he passed?

I’ve deconstructed this one a thousand times, and I think I’ve worked it out.

To give you a proper answer I need to jump ahead to the month of March.

March 17 (the day he passed) and the week leading up to it have always carried such enormous and painful memories for me.

They remind me of the initial relief and a mild sense that we were being overly cautious as we drove him to hospital on March 13.

I still replay the drive to hospital that day as a kind of bleak, dark comedy skit, recalling vividly my wife and I bouncing back and forth in conversation and second guessing each other as to whether we were overreacting and taking up resources unnecessarily.

It was just a mild cough and a sleepy baby.

There’s the slow, bubbling magma of concern that continued rising under the surface of my psyche as he progressively deteriorated on those first two days.

Then we have the momentary pause for relief on March 16 when he had a small stabilisation in his condition.

The naive optimist in me at the time foolishly took that as the end of my need for concern and a symbol of him turning the corner.

I even forced my wife to head home and get some rest for the first time in 3 days.

The subsequent evening of March 16 just a few hours later is when I sat alone and watched my son catastrophically deteriorating before my eyes.

That guttural scream of pain lives with me to this day.

It’s my kryptonite and if I allow that memory to slip to the front of the jukebox in my brain then my mask shatters, my compartmentalised kit-furniture boxes in my brain fall apart and I lose my s**t.

That all culminates with his passing and the last hour I spent with him.

Sitting in the hospital recliner and cradling him as the life slowly faded from his swollen, fragile, and ultimately broken little body.

March 13-17 was without a shadow of a doubt the worst week of my life.

But it’s for that exact reason that February 13 is the hardest day of the year.

See, March 13-17 was so overflowing with emotion and pain, that I’ve analysed, audited and scrutinised absolutely every moment of that week with surgical precision.

It represents the end of things.

It represents loss.

I am steeled, prepared and equipped with a million and one different tools to face what I would refer to as static grief.

The memories stay the same, the outcome never changes, and - like a speed runner on a video game - despite all this pain, I know every twist, turn and boss fight that the week has to throw at me.

February 13 is the cruellest mistress though, because she’s what I refer to as dynamic grief.

February 13 represents optimism.

It’s a day filled with all the hopes and dreams that can only come along with the birth of a child.

There is no preparation or road map for this day.

February 13 is like a virus in its own right.

Constantly evolving and finding new things to torment me with.

Each year on this day, I foolishly tell myself that I’ll handle it better and have my s**t together.

Each year I prepare my tool kit with everything I could possibly need to face this fight.

Each year I find myself in a blubbering mess of ugly tears at some point, because this f**k of a day has found a new missed opportunity, unobtainable life calendar event, or unanticipated opportunity lost.

Today, the only consistent thing for me is that my body clock ensures I get to be awake for as much as possible to experience the whole day and every twist of the blade my memory bank and my imagination can muster up in unison.

February 13 represents the extinguishing of hope for a little life I cherished more than my own.

And yet, this year, for the first time in a long while, I can honestly say I’ve found something positive to focus on.

On Wednesday I posted about Riley’s upcoming birthday.

I mentioned how supporting his cause would mean so much to us, and how important a voice was in this space.

And hundreds of you honoured him in a way that humbled me beyond what I could have anticipated.

So many of you donated, shared your story and shared the impact of just what Riley and his life meant to you, to the point that I was moved to silent awe (a feat almost unheard of).

I’ve had countless messages of love, heard from families who took time out to share their own journey with loss, and I’ve even had a few blokes message me and say that words I’ve written made them feel like they had permission to grieve too and that helped them navigate their pain.

And that made me really proud and humbled.

I can’t promise any of you that I’ll even remotely resemble a functional human being today.

But I can promise you that I have and will take in the words of kindness and effort each and every one of you took out of your day to share your words, your support and your love for my boy.

Happy Birthday Riley 💙

-D-1

As I prepare myself for the fact that this Friday would be Riley’s 11th birthday, I reflect upon my life as having such a clear and distinct division that at times I almost view myself as two entirely different people.

There’s my life before Riley:

I was a young dad of two kids – an older girl and a younger boy (Riley) - and there’s my wife and I.

Two naively unaware parents who just always assumed catastrophic health outcomes from vaccine preventable diseases couldn’t possibly happen to distinctly middle-class families in suburban Perth.

We always followed medical recommendations, but babies don’t die in a country like Australia.

At least, not healthy babies anyway.

Ignorance is bliss, until it isn’t…

Then there’s my life after Riley - The catastrophe and the chaos.

Forensically retracing each one of our movements to try and identify how this could possibly happen and to find someone to hold responsible.

I wanted someone or something to blame. Something to hate. Something to hold to account.

There’s the awful cynicism and judgment that can only manifest when grief is at its freshest and most cuttingly painful.

You see a parent screaming at their child in the street and you think “why did they get to keep a child they aren’t treating right when all I ever wanted was to be a Dad to my son”.

Totally irrational, totally unfair, inconsiderate, and lacking in empathy.

Totally spearheaded by grief and fresh emotion.

Then there’s the time spent trying to entertain and engage with a 3-year-old who thinks that her brother dying is the best time of her life.

Everyone she’s ever known or cared about is visiting her, engaging with her and wanting to spend time with her.

She can’t understand why Mum and Dad keep crying and being so quiet - she’s having a blast.

It’s not until about six weeks after his actual loss when she asks, ‘when’s he coming back?’ that the reality of what’s actually happening starts to sink in.

That’s a whole ‘nother layer of trauma to add into the grieving process.

And now? There’s the quiet conversations and reflections when I’m alone in my car.

The ones that involve just him and me.

The ones where I feel comfortable to be vulnerable.

To tell him how sorry I am.

To tell him how proud I am.

How much I love him.

I often wonder what kind of young man he’d be at 11 years of age.

I hope like his sisters, he’d have a firm sense of moral justice, but he’d underpin that with a wit and sense of humour that’s as sharp as a tack.

In the time over the 11 years since his passing, I’ve often contemplated if we’ve done enough.

If we’ve moved the needle to a point where no other families could possibly endure the heartache we experienced.

There were times where I genuinely thought that we as a nation were so close to grasping it.

It pains me to say it, but in the last few years it feels like we’ve moved so much further away from that.

In an era of misinformation, of weaponised mistruths, and of individuals actively encouraging people against best practice preventative health, I believe a voice in this space to advocate for parents is more important than ever.

I look at the landscape of so many concerned parents being confused and concerned because, while the legitimate experts are speaking to the importance of best practice preventative health, they’re so often being drowned out or dismissed by some of the most disingenuous and unqualified, self-anointed ‘gurus’ out there, screaming blue murder at them all while trying to sell snake oil.

It pains me to say it, but the messaging in this space is more important than ever before.

As a bereaved parent I’m honestly terrified we’re going to see more and more deaths in this country.

Over the journey I’ve been asked on multiple occasions how best you can support us and what we do.

Well, the Immunisation Foundation of Australia is running a campaign for Riley’s Birthday and I’m asking any of my amazing followers who are capable to do so, to help us elevate the important messaging around vaccine preventable disease.

We can’t stop fighting against misinformation and spreading awareness in order to educate expectant families about how they can best protect themselves and their children from the insidious vaccine preventable diseases that caused such turmoil for my family.

If you can spare it, I’ll pop a link in the comments to sign up to make an $11 a month contribution and help us honour this fight, for Riley.

I’m not tone deaf though and I understand that times are tight for so many families right now, so even if you can only make an $11 one off contribution in honour of his Birthday this Friday, we promise that your donation will be going towards trying to keep our commitment to Riley – that no children should die from a vaccine preventable disease in this country.

💙🤍

-D-1

We need to talk about the absolute contradictory state of justice in this country right now.

On January 20 this year, activist Theo Nolan-Isles tweeted a bad taste joke offering free beer to anyone who caused physical pain to politicians voting for this new hate speech bill.

Dumb s**t?

Sure.

End result?

He’s in jail.

But Theo has some history in this space.

See, in May 2024, Theo was the victim in a case where a man named David Wise planted a literal bomb on Theo’s car because he didn’t like Theo displaying the Palestinian flag.

Wise left a note stating:

"Enough! Take Down Flag! One Chance!!!!" and accompanied it with a homemade device that comprised of a fuel canister with a semi-moist towel stuffed into it, with a disposable lighter and large bolts attached.

Disarming the bomb took the bomb disposal squad three hours and a robot to secure, and it was confirmed as being explosive.

Sound like terrorism?

Well yes, but also - nope!

Wise was found guilty of ‘menacing’ and ‘harassing’ and sentenced to a measly 12 months of jail time.

Not convicted of terrorism.

Think that’s an isolated incident?

Fast forward to just two days ago.

Perth - the Invasion Day rally.

A man throws a homemade explosive device off a balcony directly into a crowd of 2,500 protestors.

Police confirm it was packed with chemicals, nails, and ball bearings.

A literal shrapnel bomb designed to maim and kill on impact.

The only reason it didn’t turn a peaceful rally into a massacre is that the fuse failed to light.

End result?

Unlawful act with intent to harm and Making explosives.

Terrorism charges?

Nup.

He’s the wrong colour (or is that the right colour?)

Now not to mitigate what Theo did (Inciting violence is wrong full stop).

But are we really pretending that a tweet about free beer for punching someone is in the same universe as wiring actual explosives to a car, or throwing a shrapnel bomb into a crowd of families and elders?

I can guarantee if the roles were reversed this would be called terrorism all day long (and rightly so).

I don’t agree with the March for Australia rallies - but if someone threw a pipe bomb into the middle of it, I’d absolutely want them charged as a terrorist.

We can stop pretending justice is blind.

Right now, it’s peeking out from under the blindfold to check your politics and your skin colour before deciding if you’re a ‘menace’ or a ‘terrorist.’

We’re setting a precedent where the punishment depends less on the explosive and more on the ideology of the person lighting the fuse.

A tweet can’t kill you.

A shrapnel bomb is designed to do nothing else.

If our courts can’t distinguish between a bad joke and a lethal weapon, we aren't keeping Australians safe.

We’re just picking sides.

And that s**t should scare the hell out of all of us.

-D-1

True morality isn't found in how we treat those we love.

It’s found in how we treat those we've been told to hate.

We see it everywhere.

Tribes, groups, and movements convinced that they are the righteous ones and everyone else is the enemy.

But as the philosopher Bertrand Russell warned, this is the first step toward something much darker.

We often think of purity and righteousness as virtues to be chased.

However, history (and philosophy) paints a much darker picture of these labels.

When a group begins to view itself as the sole arbiter of what is ‘pure’ and ‘good,’ they aren't just making a moral claim, they are often laying the groundwork for exclusion - or worse.

Anyone willing to divide the world into the ‘righteous’ and the ‘unrighteous’ is often just a small push away from committing terrible brutality.

See, when you label a neighbour as subhuman, an alien, or a monster, you aren’t being moral.

You’re creating a playground for your own sa**sm.

Language matters.

Dividing the world into Saints and Sinners allows the group enforcing the punishment to justify wreaking havoc and cruelty on anyone they dislike.

Blaise Pascal once famously said:

“Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction.”

Whether that religion is traditional or political, the result is the same.

Empathy is discarded for the cause.

We can disagree without abusing each other.

We can even have enemies without wanting to destroy them.

But the second we start using labels like ‘pure’ and ‘unclean’, we make the world a more brutal, dangerous place.

Be careful around those who think they are the pure ones.

Because the most dangerous person in the room isn't the one who is evil - It’s the one who is convinced they are pure.

🚩🚩🚩

-D-1

Yesterday’s post got some terrific feedback and a heap of requests for a deeper dive on specific brands. I’m already digging into the companies you’ve flagged in the comments and my DMs, but while I get those ready, I wanted to talk about another insidious side of society that has crept in while we weren't looking.

The world isn’t just getting more expensive; it’s getting more exhausting to boot.

There was a time when you purchased a thing and then - radical concept - you actually owned it.

But today we’re living through this live action transformative theatre piece I like to call: "you WILL rent everything, own nothing, and be happy doing it, chump."

It’s modern living, only instead of joy and permanent ownership, you get a series of recurring micro-transactions designed to bleed you dry.

It’s exactly why everything feels worse.

We’ve entered a bizarre era where the products you buy are just shells for a software hostage situation.

Take your morning coffee.

For just a dollar a cup you can now experience a hit of morning brown in pod form.

Thanks Nestle! (Spoiler alert: these guys are just about the biggest as****es in corporate history.)

Then you have your home security. You want to use that doorbell with the camera you just bought?

Oop, sorry!

You need a monthly plan just to identify who the f**k stole that Amazon package you had delivered. You know, the one you got with "free" shipping for being a Prime member, so long as you ignore that pesky ten dollar a month fee.

It’s enough to make anyone lose their s**t.

And it doesn't stop at your front door.

Just ask any BMW owner who watched as the company actually had the audacity to try and introduce a subscription fee of $5 a month just to use the seat warmers in the car they’d already bought and paid for.

Everywhere you turn, another big corporation is sticking their hand in your wallet, looking for another avenue to scrape your bank account along with your attention.

I vividly remember being in my twenties and mocking those who paid a hundred bucks a month for Foxtel.

Who would pay for that trash?

Reruns and adverts? Pfft. Not me.

I had Netflix for ten bucks and no ads. I honestly thought I was ahead of the curve.

The joke’s on me though.

To get the equivalent variety that pay TV once offered, you now need Netflix, Stan, Apple TV, Disney+, Paramount, and Binge.

Subscribe to them all and you are paying more than those old foxtel subscriptions by a long shot.

Worse still, the ‘Standard’ tiers now force ads down your throat.

You get to pay for the "privilege" of being marketed to! 🥳

If you want the no-ads experience we were promised a decade ago, you have to pay a purity tax that keeps climbing every six months.

Even our hobbies have been strip-mined.

Video games used to be an escape for me, but now they’re a second job with a high overhead.

I was fortunate enough to grow up gaming in a time where the game you purchased was actually complete.

Now, half the modern titles are released unfinished and buggy. They make you pay just to be remotely competitive, and the entire industry has moved from selling fun to selling the removal of frustration.

Worst of all, if a service claims to be "free," you aren't the customer - you’re the product.

Whether it’s a free Wi-Fi hotspot at Westfield or a simple online tool, the demand is always the same: give us your email, your phone number, and your soul.

We’ve seen from clusterf**ks like Optus and Medibank exactly what happens to data that falls into the wrong hands.

It’s harvested and sold to scammers.

Every time you hand over your details for "free" you’re just paying with your own future identity theft credit card.

The only way this stops is if we stop being "convenienced" into submission and embrace the resistance of the physical.

We need to vote with our wallets by seeking out "dumb" tech.

Buy a doorbell camera that allows for local storage.

Buy a manual espresso machine.

Practice a "one-in, one-out" rule for streaming where you never have more than two services active at once. (Or, better yet, learn to sail the seven seas and set up your own server. 🏴‍☠️ )

The bottom line is that we are being conditioned to accept a life where we own nothing and pay forever.

These corporations want you passive, subscribed, and broke.

F**k that.

Reclaim your autonomy, vote with your wallet, and buy back your freedom.

It’s time to actually own your s**t again

-D-1

Most of us think democracy is something that happens once every few years.

We rock up to a local primary school, grab a democracy sausage, number a few boxes with a tiny pencil, and then pat ourselves on the back for doing our civic duty.

But here’s the truth many overlook in their day to day lives:

Voting doesn’t just exist at the ballot box.

It exists in every single transaction you make.

It exists in the subscriptions you keep active.

It exists in the logos you allow into your home.

We vote with our currency.

We vote with our intentions.

We vote with our actions.

Right now, a lot of us are blindly voting for a future where we are nothing more than data points to be harvested, categorised, and controlled by the kind of people who view human rights as a suggestion rather than a rule.

Why?

Convenience.

Let’s talk about Coles.

You might think you’re just grabbing a loaf of bread and a carton of milk, but if you’re shopping at Coles, you are actively feeding the beast.

Coles has partnered with Palantir software.

For those playing at home who don’t know who Palantir is, let me paint you a picture.

This is the same software used by ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) in the US to identify, track, and deport immigrants.

This company was co-founded by Peter Thiel, a psychotic billionaire who has publicly stated that he no longer believes that "freedom and democracy are compatible."

When you tap your card at the checkout, you aren’t just paying for groceries. You are providing identification data to a company that specialises in surveillance and control.

You are handing over your habits and your hard-earned cash to a maniacal oligarch hellbent on reshaping the world into a place where the rich play god and the rest of us get crushed.

But Coles isn't the only one lowering the boot onto society's throat.

We need to look at the whole lineup of corporate villains we’ve been giving a free pass, and Woolworths certainly isn't innocent.

While Coles is doing data deals, Woolies is turning its stores into a surveillance state.

They’re rolling out cameras for gait analysis to track how you walk and smart gates that lock you in if an in house AI software thinks you haven't paid.

It’s a panopticon masquerading as a grocery store.

Then you have that human s**t stain, Gerry Harvey and his Harvey Norman franchise.

While small businesses went under during the pandemic, Gerry refused to pay back millions in JobKeeper subsidies despite making record profits - gleefully profiteering while many people struggled to feed their families.

This isn’t an accident, it’s a business model.

And he did it at the expense of mum and dad small business owners.

And yet, we support and endorse these behaviours Every. Time. We. Tap. Our. Cards.

Why?

Because it’s quick, it’s convenient, and it offers the path of least resistance.

We gotta start embracing discomfort.

It’s the same thing when it comes to how we source our information and entertainment.

Think Kayo, Sky News, news dot com dot au, and their ilk that make up the Murdoch empire.

Every show you watch, every article you click, and every ad you allow them to run in the background of your news feed is a dollar that keeps a seat at the table for this polarising, warmongering, hate-peddling, parasitic empire.

If you want to hold the human embodiment of Mr Burns accountable for spreading misinformation and pitting us against one another, you NEED to go further.

Block the Noise.

Install browser extensions like ‘Bye Rupert’ or use app blockers to scrub their sites from your feed.

Don't give them the clicks under any circumstances.

Support Independent Media.

Real journalism costs money.

Take the $25 you saved on Kayo and throw it at independent outlets like Michael West Media, The Guardian, or AAP.

Subscribe to the Patreon of someone like Carrick Ryan.

Fund the people speaking truths and exposing the corruption, not the ones covering it up.

And most importantly - vote with your Feet.

It’s inconvenient, I know.

But drive past the Coles.

Go to the farmers market.

Shop at the independent grocer.

Heck, even IGA is more palatable, despite being cut from the same cloth.

We have to embrace that minor discomfort.

Because if we don’t, we are actively funding the very people who are trying to dismantle our communities.

We are handing the keys to the kingdom over to people who view us as livestock.

You have more power in your wallet than you do in a voting booth.

Boycott corporations who actively side with evil.

Vote for the kind of world you want your kids to grow up in.

-D-1

We lost a real one today

I have so many conflicting thoughts on the current state of this platform and this unpublishing of everyone’s favourite cartoon pickle does little to temper them.

Vale Snarks x

EDIT: Our beloved brine filled friend has set up a backup page while he appeals to Zucc for reinstatement of his page (which was banned for “impersonation”)

Link below:

https://www.facebook.com/share/17vrU3DDXs/

We often look at the polarised, anti-science rhetoric of the United States with a sense of distance.

It couldn’t happen here, we tell ourselves.

But if you look closely at the recent actions of the Queensland government over the last 12 months, the cracks are beginning to show.

We are witnessing a dangerous pivot away from expert led policy and a push towards a brand of Trumpian politics that treats public health as a private lifestyle choice rather than a collective responsibility.

This systemic shift ultimately punishes Queensland’s most vulnerable residents and it sees the state sleepwalking into a preventative health crisis.

As of late 2025, Queensland recorded over 95,000 cases of influenza - that’s a staggering 21% increase over the previous year.

At the peak, hospitalisations were up by over 30%, forcing the government to pause elective surgeries just to keep the doors open.

Perhaps the most damning statistic is that 82% of those hospitalised were unvaccinated.

Despite this, you’ve got the Queensland deputy premier and part time cockatoo Jarrod Bleijie publicly stating he remains ‘comfortable’ with the state's floundering, nation-trailing vaccination rates.

His response was a masterclass in deflection, calling his own vaccination status a ‘private matter between me and my doctor.’

The most subtle, and perhaps most dangerous, part of this shift is the erasure of preventative messaging.

I usually love the Queensland Health page. It’s typically a beacon of funny, engaging, great, accessible health info.

But recently, something changed.

Despite this record breaking flu season, we saw their most recent post discussing flu symptoms and care that managed to not mention the word vaccination once.

Now, to be fair. This could be an access issue, but surely when you’re trying to address something like flu, you would at least make reference to the most effective preventative measure?

When a government department stops endorsing the single most effective tool for preventing hospital strain, they aren’t respecting your privacy, they are failing in their fundamental duty to promote best practice policy.

Leadership isn't just about managing the influx at the hospital gates, it’s about making sure people don't end up there in the first place.

And this isn't just a health issue; it’s a systemic shift.

Look at the recent overhaul of the Queensland Curriculum and Assessment Authority (QCAA).

We’ve seen veteran union linked board members ousted and replaced with figures like the founding chair of the right wing lobby group Advance.

When you replace educational experts and union representatives with political lobbyists, you aren't cleaning house, you’re ideologically tilting the future of our children’s education.

A sitting Government should never be a passive observer.

Its job is to lead, to protect the vulnerable, and to follow the best available evidence.

When leaders refuse to share their vaccination status or endorse proven health measures, they give oxygen to complacency and misinformation.

Queenslanders deserve better than a leadership that prioritises individualism and dog whistling to the fringe element so much, that they let their hospitals crumble and their state’s vaccination rates bottom out.

Political optics over preventative health is not ok, regardless of what side of the political spectrum you sit on.

If the government is allowed to keep pretending that personal choice is an excuse for government inaction, Queenslanders won’t just be losing their herd immunity, they’ll see the slow erosion of the democratic rights they hold and value.

Australia isn't immune to this kind of politics. We are currently living the beginning throes of it.

-D-1