The PR Blog

Throughout history, religion has been hailed as a guiding light, a beacon of morality and compassion. Yet, beneath the gilded robes and sacred hymns lies a more unsettling truth: faith is often a tool not of divine grace, but of human ambition. From the emasculation of rivals in Aristotle’s time to the chilling castration of young boys for the sake of celestial choirs, the pursuit of power and control has frequently eclipsed any notion of godliness.

Even figures like Voltaire, whose cynicism toward religion was fueled by its moral hypocrisy, or George Bernard Shaw, whose early exposure to religious pretense led him toward Fabian socialism, reveal how disillusionment with faith can reshape entire worldviews. And in the case of Ned Kelly, it was not merely the iron of his armour that sealed his fate, but the weight of religious prejudice.

This is not a story of divine will—it is a tale of how men, in the name of God, have repeatedly abandoned Him.

In a fast-changing Australia, where new cultures and identities weave fresh threads into our ever fading national fabric, the quiet streets of Gulgong offer something rare: a living memory of our country’s colonial foundations.

Once roaring with the fever of gold and the voices of bush poets, this small New South Wales town now stands as a fragile monument to a bygone era. As the echoes of horse hooves fade beneath the hum of modern life, Gulgong reminds us of the stories of our past. Gritty, resilient, and deeply Australian, it is a past that must be cherished, lest it slip entirely into folklore. In towns like this, we see not just where we came from, but what we risk forgetting.

We see it throughout the world: towns caught in time in a world where our colonial heritage is becoming a museum piece, gazed upon as an oddity, no more than a fossil frozen in time ............ 

When I was a young lass, I was a fencer. No, not the farming type that wandered around the farm putting up wire and posts to keep stock in a paddock. I mean a swish swish, off with their heads type of fencer. 

It’s been over 55 years since I last stepped onto a piste, mask in hand and heart pounding. Back then, I learned quickly that no amount of reach or muscle could level the playing field against a male opponent.

But fencing taught me something even more valuable - grace under pressure, and the quiet power of standing your ground. So when I saw young Stephanie Turner take the knee recently, right there in the midst of all the formality and tradition, I felt a surge of pride. In a sport that prizes discipline and silence, her gesture spoke volumes.

By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Ratty News Investigative Correspondent

Heard Island, Antarctica - A once-quiet expanse of ice and penguin squawks has erupted into chaos as local penguin colonies seem to stage mass protests against a newly imposed tariff by the Trump administration. The move, designed to close a loophole that allowed Australian goods to bypass existing tariffs, has unexpectedly apparently sent the tuxedo-clad citizens of the Antarctic into a full-scale rebellion.

"We just want fair trade!" honked P. Waddlesworth III, a prominent Penguin Rights activist, who was quickly arrested by Australian authorities. He is currently being denied bail under claims that he is a "flight risk" - a notion his legal team calls "blatantly ridiculous."

In a world obsessed with competition, the most powerful alliances are often overlooked, those between men and women who elevate, rather than undermine, one another.

History is filled with examples of extraordinary partnerships: Winston Churchill and his wife, Clementine, whose unwavering support helped shape a wartime leader; Margaret Thatcher and her husband, Denis, whose quiet strength balanced the Iron Lady’s public force.

These partnerships weren’t built on competition but on mutual respect, complementary strengths, and a shared mission. When men and women work together rather than against each other, families, businesses, and even nations thrive. I wonder: is that why the left seek to sow the seeds of division? 

Fear has always been the most powerful weapon of control,  whether wielded by governments against a small religious sect in Waco or against entire populations during the Covid lockdowns.

In 1993, the Branch Davidians were surrounded, cut off, and pressured into submission before their compound was engulfed in flames.

Decades later, the world experienced a different kind of siege - locked inside their homes, silenced by threats, and forced into compliance. The methods may have changed, but the principle remained the same: instill fear, apply force, and watch obedience follow.

On April 19, 1993, an horrific inferno engulfed the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas, marking the violent end of a 51-day standoff between federal agents and a religious sect led by David Koresh.

What began as an ATF raid to seize what they believed were illegal firearms spiraled into a deadly confrontation that left 76 men, women, and children dead.

To this day, the world debates who lit the match.