Saturday 
When the discovery of Australian gold was announced in 1851, the population was just over 400,000. By 1858, just eight short but eventful years later, the population had risen to over 1,000,000. It was the pursuit of gold that established Australia as an immigrant country on a par with the US, and began the process of changing it from a penal colony to a nation.
The people spoke myriad languages, but were united by being rough, tough and ready for anything. They had to be to survive such a harsh and unforgiving country. They gave their all, often including their lives, for the one chance of striking it rich and leaving their poverty forever. Endless hopeful nights, followed by endless dashed-hopes days. But a few made it. These were literally all or nothing people. A visit to the outback still shows the piles of stones where thousands are anonymously buried – forgotten in fact, but celebrated in legend.
A great number of outback towns would not be there were it not for the heroic efforts of the original diggers. Many towns have museums, dedicated to perpetuating knowledge of the times and achievements of the diggers.
In the rear mirror of existence known as history, we are proud of the rugged endurance of the Aussie gold diggers; of their willingness to risk everything to make something of their lives.
Fast forward just 160 years to their descendants. The beneficiaries of those diggers, are a bunch of namby-pamby, gluten intolerant, allergy-ridden pansies who are ‘thinking of going vegan’ and who require safe spaces with fluffy blankets to ensure that he, she or ‘ze’s’ feelings aren’t hurt by random acts of micro-aggression or unfamiliar ideas (anything beyond the discourse of Bambi).
Psychologically and physiologically enfeebled by decades of nanny state intrusions, they are intellectual and physical degenerates, not only incapable of logic and reason, but beyond even realising that they are responsible for their own survival.
As, sadly, the time of the Aussie digger passed, so, fortunately, will the time of the Petal Generation also pass. The harsh gust of reality will blow them away. The vegans will end up fighting each other for first bite of the rat.
How will history record them?
It won’t.
There will be no museums to honour their lives and times.
There is a cyclical nature to life. The time of the heroic individual is coming again.