Polish the turd no longer
Halfinches post certainly did appear to be a thinly veiled threat. Well he can stick his threat straight up his a#s.
I have a good rumor to post here, provided by a long term CASA insider. My source told me that when Mr Dick Smith was the boss he actually discussed the concept of going back to the old DCA days and having Inspectors with virtual ticket books out pounding the tarmacs. Good deeds would be rewarded, mischief punished and at the same time the frontline inspector would be 'seen' by industry, but could also help, advise, discuss and find solutions WITH industry to make improvements or resolve problems.
However, some CASA low ranked persons who put together a proposal were literally blocked from accessing Mr Smith by some of Mr Smiths right hand men who ironically now themselves sit in the upper echelons of this Australian star chamber.
Now Dick, I know you are a proud man, but you and several after you have made the cardinal mistake of culling the wrong numbers within CASA. You should have started with your lieutenants and the faceless powerbrokers who still reside at CASA. These guys have spent manyany years learning how to play you boys to the very maximum.
So along with the suggestions here by people like 'Kharon the astute', 'Grip-pipe the articulate', 'Thorn bird the intellect' and 'sarcs the savvy' I would like to reiterate that CASA executives must serve terms of a maximum of 3 years. Any longer than that and you end up with what you presently have - a gang of silver haired pensioners ingrained and addicted to the juicy fat salaries, bonuses and rorts that accompany their daily work ethic. Fat pudgy pigs with snouts embedded in government provided troughs. This type of long term dross needs to be exhumed from beneath the foundations of Fort Fumble and discarded to where all the other human waste is disposed.
Fort Fumble attracts a plethora of nuptys who are psychopaths, bullies, incompetent, unable to fly in the real world, manage through malfeasance, are bully boys, kiss asses and ministers foot stools, they could no longer fly a real jet or fight a real legal case of their own gumption, skill and fortitude.
No, a bunch of limp wristed weasels hiding under a protective cocoon that attach themselves to a host- the ministers office. These pathetic faceless men are still tit fed by their mama - the ministers office, who tells them when they can suckle, cry, giggle or soil themselves.
A conglomerate of soft di#ks who have never fought a school fight or drawn some claret during a pub fight. No these bureaucratic 'girly men' are used to hiding under mama's skirt then running out and bitch slapping you, disapearing back up mama's skirt before you can react.
Time to tear the walls down. The silo must crumble. It is time to stop polishing the turd.