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A Deep Dive - Ghislaine Maxwell: Silver Spoons and Hard Times

A Deep Dive - Ghislaine Maxwell: Silver Spoons and Hard Times
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Ghislaine Maxwell – Silver Spoons and Hard Times

August 9, 2020
By Paul Serran
https://frankreport.com/2020/08/09/ghislaine-maxwell-silver-spoons-and-hard-times/
http://archive.is/by7md
Ghislaine Maxwell led much of her life under the world’s fascinated microscopic view, always enthralled by her – famous and infamous – as it watched her fortunes wax and wane.
From the celebrated miracle daughter of media tycoon Robert Maxwell; to the broken young woman who fled scandal in the UK to a small New York apartment, trying to launch a new life; the rebirth Jet-set Ghislaine, who was everywhere at once, longtime companion of Jeffrey Epstein, a man even richer and more shady than her father; the sophisticated middle age woman, a runaway alleged criminal trying hard to avoid detection by her pursuers – finally, to the incarcerated, indicted suspected sex trafficker and perjurer.
Ghislaine was Robert and Betty Maxwell’s miracle baby, born on Christmas Day, 1961. Two days after that, their eldest son suffered a fatal car accident.
In 24 hours, it all had been somehow foretold: joy – and then tragedy.
During the Swinging Sixties, Robert Maxwell served two terms as a Labour Member of Parliament (MP) for Buckingham. He led a multimillionaire lifestyle, and was the host of star-studded parties at Headington Hill Hall, his baronial fifty-three-room Oxford mansion.
The Maxwells spent a million dollars redecorating the mansion. In a stained glass window scene for the imperial staircase, Israeli sculptor Nehemia Azaz depicted Robert Maxwell as the biblical hero Samson tearing down the gates of Gaza: “a titan of luck, impossible achievement, and unlimited wealth”.
They had the use of chauffeured luxury cars. They traveled the world in Robert’s Gulfstream IV Jet and his sleek 180-foot yacht, named Lady Ghislaine.
“If Bob Maxwell didn’t exist, no one could invent him,” Labour Party leader Neil Kinnock celebrated the bombastic, demanding mogul who dined with kings and presidents and had a bottomless appetite for family, food, fortune, and fame.
The first brush with financial and professional hardship came at a age when young Ghislaine would have been mostly sheltered from it.
In the early seventies, after Robert Maxwell tried similar shenanigans in a failed attempt to swindle the American financier Saul Steinberg, who was interested in a strategic acquisition of Pergamon Press. Steinberg claimed that during negotiations, Maxwell falsely stated that a subsidiary responsible for publishing encyclopedias was extremely profitable.
At the same time, Pergamon had been forced to reduce its profit forecasts for 1969 during the period of negotiations, leading to a suspension of dealing in Pergamon shares on the London stock markets.
It was found that Maxwell had contrived to maximize Pergamon’s share price through transactions between his private family companies. This was a criminal practice he would utilize again in the future.
Inspectors from Britain’s Department of Trade and Industry declared Maxwell unfit to run a public company: “Notwithstanding Mr. Maxwell’s acknowledged abilities and energy, he is not in our opinion a person who can be relied on to exercise proper stewardship of a publicly quoted company.”
‘Captain Bob’ established the Maxwell Foundation in tax haven Liechtenstein, in 1970. By the 1980s he come back roaring, prompted by money later said to have originated in the Soviet Union. He bought the Mirror Group built and a massive media conglomerate.
The good times were on: Ghislaine was nicknamed “The Shopper” because of her wild spending funded by Robert’s millions. He also bankrolled her failed corporate gifts business.
During this period, she reportedly had a VERY close relationship with her father and was widely credited with being her father’s favorite child.
In Oxford, Ghislaine led a student life of wealth and privilege. Her father would send Filipino servants to the college house she shared to clean, arrange the table and cook, in the event of a party.
Her career piggybacked on her father’s businesses. She was made director of the Oxford United, and later, put in charge of “special projects” of the New York Daily News.
With her father’s money, she found her way into society, especially in New York — a haven where she could escape his complete control.
But the good times were not to last. Overextended and over-leveraged, Maxwell’s empire was about to crumble.
At this time, Maxwell reportedly was a regular at London’s casinos, playing three tables at once, even dropping $2.5 million in a single night. For years, he had been an inveterate gambler, but this was the behavior of a desperate man whose time was running out.
“He was a very crude man,” said a female writer for Time magazine. “His polish was not very deep. If you were with him for any length of time, it peeled away. I was in his library in the Maxwell House penthouse—a beautiful apartment with marble and servants all over the place—and while I was admiring his books, his valet said to me, ‘You should see Mr. Maxwell’s collection of pornographic tapes’.”
Ghislaine visited her father in his office before he flew off to Gibraltar. “He was looking for an apartment in New York—a sort of pied-à-terre, where he could talk and have meetings—and he wanted me to help him,” she told Vanity Fair. “He asked me to go see a particular apartment. He said, ‘If you like it, I’ll make time to see it and come to New York.’ ” But the next time Ghislaine saw her father, he was dead.
”Ghislaine is the baby of the family and the one who was closest to her father,” her mother Betty told Vanity Press. ”The whole of Ghislaine’s world has collapsed, and it will be very difficult for her to continue.”
When she finally appeared before the reporters, she had collected herself. “How did your father die?” a journalist shouted at Ghislaine Maxwell. “He did not commit suicide. That was just not consistent with his character. I think he was murdered. ”
Maxwell, it turned out, had debts of nearly $5 billion, and had stolen hundreds of millions from the Mirror Group’s pension funds to shore up his faltering companies. That left 32,000 employees exposed to retirement ruin.
The irony was not lost on the hard-hitting British press: Robert Maxwell, a socialist, stealing hundreds of millions of pounds from the Mirror’s pension fund!
He swindled money from two of his public companies, transferred millions in and out the secret family trusts in Liechtenstein, to manipulate the share price of his Corporation.
Robert was called “rogue,” “crook,” “bully,” “thief,” “megalomaniac,” and “gangster.” The press told lurid tales of his sex orgies with midget Filipino hookers.
He was seen as a 310-pound aberration gorging on spoonfuls of caviar. An erratic and cruel tyrant who used Turkish towels for toilet paper. Journalists wrote that he was a spy for the K.G.B. or Mossad or Czech intelligence—or all three.
“My daughter Ghislaine has no money, no trusts, no funds anywhere.” her mother Betty told Vanity Fair. “Neither of [my children] had any money. Their father never gave them any money.”
Their assets were frozen. His son Kevin’s house was put up for sale, as were the Lady Ghislaine and the Gulfstream IV Jet. Their passports were seized.
A friend told The Times of London, “[Ghislaine] had always been the life and soul of the party wherever she wanted to go in the world and never had to worry about money.” Now she was the broken child of a monster, his name forever synonymous to scandal. “She was catatonic,” the friend said.
Forced to vacate her huge company-provided residence, she moved into a small apartment. When a friend came to visit, Ghislaine told her, “They took everything—everything—even the cutlery.”
Little did she know how many more times things in her life would shift from silver spoons to hard times. A woman brought up in luxury, she had everything taken from her, before she came to the United States to begin again.
“He wasn’t a crook,” Ghislaine told Vanity Press. “A thief to me is somebody who steals money. (…) Did he put it in his own pocket? Did he run off with the money? No. And that’s my definition of a crook.”
“I’m surviving—just,” she said. “But I can’t just die quietly in a comer. I have to believe that something good will come out of this mess. It’s sad for my mother. It’s sad to have lost my dad. It’s sad for my brothers. But I would say we’ll be back. Watch this space.”
Ghislaine Maxwell was also being hunted by the tabloids. The Maxwell name was so detested in London that she is said to have had to walk around in a blond wig so people wouldn’t recognize her.
Ghislaine Maxwell’s reinvention didn’t take long. Maxwell moved to the United States just after her father’s death. Her photograph boarding a Concorde to cross the Atlantic caused outrage – her father had just defrauded pensioners out of 750 Million Sterling Pounds.
According to the Mail on Sunday: “Unnoticed by almost everybody, traveling with her was a greying, plumpish, middle-aged American businessman who managed to avoid the photographers. It is to this man that 30-year-old Ghislaine has turned to ease the heartache of her father’s shame.”
“His name is Jeffrey Epstein.”
“Whose house is this, Ghislaine?” a friend asked her in the early 1990’s. “Who lives here?”
My friend,” Maxwell replied.
“Well, is he banging you?” the friend demanded. “What’s the scoop here?”
A trust fund is said to have provided her with an income of $145,000 a year. A far cry from her previous seemingly unending wealth. She “never, ever had any cash. Lots of credit, of course, but no cash”, one friend recalled to the press.
And yet, she lived the high life. She was known in New York as the “female Gatsby” for her lavish entertaining. Had a “reputation for being charming and funny, and a glittering lifestyle straight out of the pages of a society magazine”.
She was now “far from the ever watchful eye of the British press,” Hello! magazine wrote in 1997.
“She is proud of the fact that her new life is all down to her own hard work and has her elegant apartment to show for it,” the magazine mistakenly added. One day, she would “get married and have kids. But it has never been a focus: My focus is my business.”
Ghislaine’s presence added more fuel to the question: “How did Jeffrey Epstein amass his fortune?” For one of the most propagated theories is that Maxwell’s father Robert bankrolled him with funds hidden from the UK authorities.
Jeffrey Epstein built a 21,000-square-foot mansion on a massive ranch in New Mexico, which – he boasted – made his New York townhouse “look like a shack”. He named it the Zorro Ranch. He also acquired a 72-acre island in the Virgin Islands and an 8,600-square-foot home in Paris, with a specially built massage room.
She had found a path back to the lifestyle she’d lost when her father died. “She was used to living very well,” says a friend who knew her then. “She didn’t want to go back to where she was.” All she had to do to keep it was to give ‘the monster’ what he wanted.
Maxwell was expected to drop everything to serve Epstein.
She had to keep everyone in line, because one misstep would unleash the wrath of Epstein, one of the few people who could make Maxwell cry. “He would be screaming over the phone,” recalled an Epstein victim, “and she would burst into tears.”
The New York townhouse became a social nexus; guests could have included members of the Kennedy and Rockefeller clans, “along with the requisite sprinkling of countesses and billionaires,” according to The Times of London.
She was “a modern-day geisha” in a “domain filled with the richest people in the planet. “It’s a world frequented by young half-naked girls in bikinis, billionaires and lavish lifestyles, but it borders on the grotesque. You are never really sure what is going on behind closed doors.”
Royalty was specially prized, which is why her friendship with Prince Andrew became so treasured. In 2000, Maxwell and Epstein attended a Prince Andrew’s party at the Queen’s Sandringham House estate in Norfolk, England. It has been reported that the event was in honor of Maxwell’s 39th birthday.
And yet, Ghislaine began trying to distance herself from Epstein long before he went to jail. In the early 2000s, she hooked up in California with a man much richer than Epstein: Ted Waitt.
Waitt lived in a seven-bedroom, 14-bath mansion in La Jolla, sailed the world aboard a 240-foot mega-yacht, the Plan B. It was equipped with a helipad, Jacuzzi, elevator, gym, and HAD AN ONBOARD SUBMARINE, which Maxwell soon was licensed to pilot.
After Epstein went to prison in Florida for a short period, Maxwell saw the silver spoons turned into hard times again.
Acquaintances that crossed her path reported how she was almost unrecognizable. She was not stylish and attention grabbing anymore, seemed determined to go unnoticed. Her face had no makeup. There was a hint of gray in her black hair, she put on some weight.
“I was so shocked by her look,” a friend recalled to the British press. “I didn’t recognize her.”
She even gave up her once proud name, sometimes introducing herself to new acquaintances only as “G.”
“Where are you living, Ghislaine?” the friend asked. “I lost touch with you.” Maxwell suddenly went blank. “Oh,” she replied, “a little bit everywhere.”
December 2014: Virginia Roberts Giuffre filed a motion in the Southern District of Florida describing Maxwell as Epstein’s “primary coconspirator and participant in his sexual abuse and sex trafficking scheme.”
Maxwell made a huge mistake, issuing an “urgent” statement to the media dismissing the claims as “obvious lies.” That allowed Giuffre, to sue Maxwell for defamation in federal court in New York, a lawsuit “widely viewed as a vessel for Epstein’s victims to expose the scope of Epstein’s crimes,” according to the Miami Herald.
Maxwell affirmed her innocence with fury, at one point of her testimony banging her fists on the table. She also, according to charges filed by the DOJ SDNY, committed two counts of perjury.
2019: when the SDNY reopened the criminal investigation into Jeffrey Epstein, Ghislaine was far away, living the high life.
She met with her friend Prince Andrew in Buckingham Palace, and participated in “Cash & Rocket”, an annual charity road rally. Between races of the rally, she joined the super rich in attending a Masquerade Ball in London’s Victoria and Albert Museum, as well as a White dinner at La Reserve in Geneva and the Red party at the Yacht Club de Monaco.
Those were to be her last reported events. Cash & Rocket scrub Maxwell’s photo from its website once Epstein was arrested and the scandal assaulted the headlines again.
On July 6, 2019, Epstein was arrested by federal agents at Teterboro Airport, arriving from Paris. The FBI raided his mansion, and charged him with sex trafficking of minors.
“Epstein’s pimp girlfriend, Ghislaine Maxwell, a very well-connected Brit socialite cannot just walk free,” actress Ellen Barking tweeted the day after Epstein’s arrest. “This woman is his pimp. She pilots planes [sic] to and from the island. I know because she told me.”
Maxwell again went into hiding, unreachable during legal proceedings. It surfaced in December 2019 that Maxwell was among the people under FBI investigation for facilitating Epstein’s crimes.
She was faced with a tabloid frenzy even bigger than the one that accompanied the death of her father. She again uprooted herself and tried to start over in Manchester-by-the-Sea, a quiet village 30 miles north of Boston, she lived for a time in the $3 million, five-bedroom colonial home of Scott Borgerson, CEO of CargoMetrics, a hedge fund investment company involved in maritime data analytics.
Since Epstein was found dead in jail, last August, she is reported to have moved 36 times, out of fear for her safety. Credible Death threats arrived by social media, email, phone, text, and postal service. It began in earnest with Epstein’s arrest, multiplied with his death, and accelerated in the months that followed. They soon became a routine part of her life.
She hired a professional security firm, with operatives that are veterans of intelligence and law enforcement agencies.
This photoshopped photo of Maxwell surfaced last year to mislead the public into thinking she was in Los Angeles. Frank Report was the first to report the photo a fake, a story that went viral.
“Where in the world was Ghislaine Maxwell? Everyone, it seemed, had a theory, each wilder than the last. She was said to be hiding deep beneath the sea in a submarine, which she was licensed to pilot. Or she was lying low in Israel, under the protection of the Mossad, the powerful intelligence agency with whom her late father supposedly tangled. Or she was in the FBI witness protection program, or ensconced in luxury in a villa in the South of France, or sunning herself naked on the coast of Spain, or holed up in a high-security doomsday bunker belonging to rich and powerful friends whose lives might implode should Maxwell ever reveal what she knows—all the dirty secrets of the dirty world that she and Epstein shared.”
(Vanity Fair – Jul 3, 2020)
Maxwell remained at large, beyond the reach of attorneys, tabloid reporters, and a 10,000-pound reward from The Sun in London.
“It’s a little bit like Elvis—you get lots of reports but they’re hard to verify,” a victim attorney said in May.
She was periodically said to have been spotted around the world, usually in places where she was not. Reporters scoured the globe. Some said she was in Russia trying to get a Oligarch to protect her. Others pointed to Israel or Brazil, China, Singapore, the Middle East, England.
She was “both everywhere and nowhere,” lamented UK’s The Guardian.
On August 2019, she was apparently photographed eating a burger and fries in the Cahuenga Boulevard, in the San Fernando Valley. She held The Book of Honor: The Secret Lives and Deaths of CIA Operatives. Given Ghislaine and her father Robert’s alleged ties to Intelligence Services, this choice does not seem accidental.
Papers were running out of incredible stories to account for her disappearance. A bizarre new theory emerged she could be hiding in a submarine which – as we saw – was not downright impossible, since she DID have a license to pilot underground vehicles.
On July 2nd 2020, Maxwell was arrested by the FBI and NYPD in the small New England town of Bradford, New Hampshire. It is situated at driving distance of the NYSD. They finally found her in a luxurious four-bedroom, 4,365-square-foot home on a wooded lot, called Tuckedaway.
Ghislaine Maxwell was charged with six federal crimes: luring and enticement of minors, sex trafficking of children and perjury.
The crimes took place between 1994 and 1997, the years of her “intimate relationship with Epstein,” when she “assisted, facilitated, and contributed to Jeffrey Epstein’s abuse of minor girls.”
One of the three unnamed victims was “as young as 14 years old when they were groomed and abused by Maxwell and Epstein, both of whom knew that certain victims were in fact under the age of 18.”
FBI assistant director William F. Sweeney Jr. described Maxwell as “one of the villains of this investigation,” who had “slithered away to a gorgeous property” in New Hampshire, where she was “continuing to live a life of privilege while her victims live with the trauma inflicted upon them years ago.”
“I am optimistic about my future,” she said in 1997, “and believe things will continue to improve for me as time passes.”
Now, according to sources close to her, “I don’t think [Ghislaine] sees there is a future,” came the reply.
If found guilty of all charges, Maxwell could face a prison sentence of 35 years. She denies the accusations, and has pleaded not guilty to all six charges.
She will await trial locked up in the Metropolitan Detention Center, in Brooklyn. A dreadful prison that is as removed from her previous “silver spoon” upbringing as it’s possible in the US. Hard times.
She used to be a larger than life character, who once hosted a dinner for NY socialites on ‘the fine art of giving a blow job’. But then, she really blew it.
A report from a source familiar with the Metropolitan Detention Center gives a glum picture of Ghislaine Maxwell’s present conditions.
She is in the women’s section and believed to be confined to a solitary cell. Because of the past history of the MDC, it is not impossible to suspect that Ghislaine could be having sexual relations with one or more corrections officers, either male or female. Her available wealth would permit her to buy some privileges directly from the corrections officers who could smuggle in items for her.
MDC has a history of guards, male and female, enjoying sex with prisoners and smuggling in everything from alcohol to cell phones to drugs. While she is not enjoying what anyone would call a privileged life, and is most likely [because of Covid protocols] confined to her cell, dank and cold [in summer] perhaps as much as 23-24 hours per day and possibly getting only one hot meal per day, our source says, with her wealth and talent to charm, if there is any privilege, any opportunity, any luxury to enjoy at MDC, she is enjoying it.
Of course, she is probably under near-constant surveillance, for no guard wants to go to prison for letting her get murdered or commit suicide – as did her former lover Epstein. It is not known how frequently she is meeting with lawyers in special rooms set aside for the purpose. But an MDC source tells Frank Report that prison officials are known to eavesdrop on those conversations with lawyers and defendants and do so on high profile cases. Whether they report to the prosecution what they learn is unknown.
In the end, Maxwell has a hard road to hoe and will remain in the brutal and unsanitary MDC until she stands trial or makes a plea deal or dies. The possibility of additional charges other than those currently charged against her – for hebephilia crimes in the last century – remain a possibility.
The late Jeffrey Epstein was a convicted hebephile, a person who has urges for post pubescent but under the age of consent children. Is Ghislaine one also? And are there others, famous and prominent men of power who have indulged as Jeffrey and allegedly Ghislaine have done?
The ace in the hole for her, obviously, is, if she has info on other prominent hebephiles that the DOJ for its own partisan or PR reasons might like to selectively prosecute, she can trade that info for a lenient sentence and hopefully not be murdered for doing so.
Her former lover, Jeffrey Epstein, might have committed suicide, as the Mainstream Media and the US Govt. urges you to believe, but there are some who find the coincidences, cameras being off, bones broken indicating he was strangled, guards happening to fall asleep as they were assigned to watch the most famous prisoner in the world, such that that it just might cause reasonable people to doubt the official narrative a little more than the corporate media and prison officials would wants us to doubt.
The same fate might befall Ghislaine and we may never know just what she did. Whether her crimes were confined to herself and Epstein or whether there was a vast network of hebephiles joining in – or – in fairness to her – she is innocent as she claims, something that a trial, if she makes it to trial, might help us determine.


stretcher during the funeral service in Jerusalem’s main convention hall on Nov. 10, 1991. The body is laying on a stretcher, draped in a white Jewish prayer shawl with black stripes as is it tradition of Jewish burials in Israel. (AP Photo/Natik Harnik) Ghislaine is fourth from the left.


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Australian Article

Here ya go lads
Not so long ago, Sticky Fingers was the most popular rock’n’roll band in the ­country. In 2015, the Sydney five-piece sold out a tour of Australia without even bothering to announce it; the following year their third album, Westway (The Glitter & The Slums), debuted at No.1 on iTunes and their ­seven-month world tour traversed three continents. But that was before the transgender rapper Miss Blanks accused them of white supremacy, misogyny, sexism and transphobia; before indigenous activists began inciting people to disrupt their concerts and harass them on social media; before the columnist Clementine Ford declared that they engaged in “sexual degradation and humiliation” of women. Today the radio station that helped launch Sticky Fingers, the ABC’s Triple J, barely plays their music, and the call to boycott them has been joined by a swelling chorus of activists and music industry figures. Sally Rugg, executive director of change.org, accuses the band of “routinely” abusing indigenous and gay women. Punk drummer Sarah Thompson has labelled them “pathetic, abusive, racist, misogynistic, transphobic pieces of shit”. Music festivals that hire them face protests, petitions and cancellation threats from other artists. It has been a whiplash change of fortunes, made more acute by the fact that Sticky Fingers sprang from Sydney’s most politically Left locale, Newtown-Camperdown, a hub of alt-lifestyle activism that the band celebrated in song. Today it’s a base of operations that can feel like hostile territory. “This was an area where we always felt comfortable,” says their moustachioed keyboard player Crabz — known to his mum as Daniel ­Neurath — as he sits in a cafe near their manager’s office. “To walk around feeling that you’re being looked at or talked about, that you’re viewed as these reprehensible characters… it’s weird.” Like his band-mates, Crabz expresses bewilderment at the allegations levelled against them. In the band’s account, a swirl of half-truths and outright fabrications on social media became an online mobbing by amateur journalists and misguided activists who’ve paid little heed to the harm their vilification has wrought, in particular to the band’s troubled lead singer, Dylan Frost. How a band that has worked closely with the indigenous community came to be labelled racist is indeed a puzzle, one that some of their most vehement critics are surprisingly reluctant to ­discuss when asked to produce the evidence. What’s clear is that Sticky Fingers have found themselves at the pointy end of a sudden cultural shift in the music business, an industry whose long history of outrage and excess is now undergoing a moral stocktake at the hands of a younger “woke” generation.
In January the indie rock performer Kirin J. Callinan was banned from the Laneway Festival in Melbourne after flashing his penis from under a kilt at the ARIA Awards. In June a tour by the US rapper Riff Raff was cancelled after a Melbourne woman alleged on Facebook that he’d raped her five years earlier in his hotel room, an accusation he denied. More recently there have been calls to boycott the popular Brisbane punk trio Dune Rats over unsubstantiated claims about their treatment of female fans. One music website, Pilerats, is compiling a blacklist of performers whose behaviour it considers unacceptable. Music festival promoters face mounting attacks over the gender balance of their shows and the inclusion of performers deemed to be offensive — a phenomenon not confined to the music industry, as Brisbane Writers’ Festival showed when it disinvited the feminist Germaine Greer because of her controversial views on sexual assault. Some music business veterans sound disoriented by this insurrection from a younger demographic who talk of rock concerts as “safe spaces”. “Yeah, I dunno… what would happen if Jimmy and the Boys were still playing?” remarks veteran concert promoter Michael Chugg, referring to the infamous 1970s band who simulated sadomasochism and rape onstage. Sydney promoter Matt Rule, whose business was attacked on ­Facebook in March after Sticky Fingers headlined its Bad ­Friday concert, is among those who see a darker side to this talk of boycotts and blacklists. “There’s no one I know who isn’t supportive of change in the industry,” says Rule. “But what I’m seeing is people who think they’re doing the right thing threatening to ruin or discredit your good name by labelling you as an apologist and threatening to campaign against you. It’s completely misguided.”
Sticky Fingers’ lead singer Dylan Frost performs during Splendour in the Grass in 2016. For Sticky Fingers, who played a sold-out world tour in June and have a new album awaiting release, the long-term career damage is unclear but the personal fallout has been serious. In early July, as the campaign against the band reached a crescendo, singer Dylan Frost was admitted to hospital after an episode of self-harm he declines to discuss in detail. He attributes the incident to “a war in my own head” he has been fighting for years — since 2015 he has been diagnosed with multiple psychiatric disorders, leaving him ­struggling to find the right treatment. Frost says he’s now recovering and looking forward to working again, but some in the industry wonder where this new form of activism as public humiliation is heading. “It stinks, to be honest,” says one promoter. “People who crow from the rooftops about being interested in welfare are abusing people with mental health issues without seeming to think about the potential consequences. It’s dangerous.” Reminiscing on the days when we used to have a blaze, Everybody came around and we laxed out on the laze, And I remember when we’d drink and we’d smoke and we’d spar and we’d laugh, And the night would just go on and on… Australia Street by Sticky Fingers
Sticky Fingers never put much effort into ­making friends in the music business or honing their hipster credentials. Teenagers when they got together in Sydney’s inner west 10 years ago, the band took their name from a decades-old Rolling Stones album and built an audience the old-fashioned way, by touring relentlessly. Their sound was a light-footed mix of reggae and Britpop singalong, and their visual aesthetic mixed mullet haircuts, porn-star moustaches, tracky-dacks and footy shorts into a semi-ironic bogan chic. Record companies ignored them and the ARIA Awards has forever snubbed them, but their energy lit up venues and in Dylan Frost they were fronted by a natural star, a shaggy-haired waif with a tattooed torso and an irresistible melodic lilt in his voice. Born in New Zealand in 1991, Frost could tear up a stage yet remained an enigma away from it, paralysed with self-consciousness in the rare interviews he granted. His raffish grin concealed a volatility that became more visible as the band’s workload and offstage habits took their toll. In 2013 he was arrested after a stoush with security at a concert in WA and thrown in a paddy wagon while tripping on hallucinogens in Queensland; the following year he was given a suspended jail sentence for driving drunk and without a licence, and the whole group was banned from a NSW country pub over allegations they abused staff and urinated on a balcony. In the music press it was largely celebrated as bad-boy hijinks, and the band obliged by sharing videos of their hotel-trashing exploits and tour diaries detailing their drug and alcohol-fuelled escapades. But those closer to the band saw where it might lead. “Dylan has demons,” says one person who worked with Sticky Fingers for years. “He has mental health issues that make him not socially able, and he has massive aggression issues with alcohol. But he’s spent his whole adult life in an industry that celebrates drug and alcohol excess.” The unravelling began in 2015 when bass player Paddy Cornwall checked himself into a ­psychiatric clinic in Thailand, while Frost entered treatment for substance abuse and was assessed as suffering bipolar disorder with possible schizophrenia, a diagnosis he never really accepted. “At the time I was sure I didn’t believe that was what I had,” he says, responding to questions by email. The diagnosis wasn’t mentioned when the band re-emerged in 2016, ostensibly recharged, for a seven-month world tour. Their third album was a hit and global success was beckoning when, during a mid-year respite from touring, Frost was involved in a minor commotion that kickstarted the snowballing campaign that now engulfs them. The event was a gig at the Red Rattler Theatre in Marrickville, Sydney by the indigenous band ­Dispossessed, an outfit so militant they regard white audiences as oppressors “even when you stand in front of us clapping”. Frost was in the audience at the invitation of the band’s then leader, Birrugan Dunn-­Velasco, but the crowd reacted with such hostility to their ­hectoring speeches that the performance ended after two songs. The following day, Dunn-Velasco took to Facebook and accused the crowd of “microaggressions of colonial violence”, singling out Frost for “grossly shirt-fronting us”.
The “shirt-fronting” charge was rhetorical: no violence occurred on the night and the band’s own video of the event shows Frost doing nothing more than telling Dispossessed he has “the greatest respect” for them. One eyewitness, Taylor Cawsey, confirmed to this magazine that Frost said nothing offensive, and Frost himself — a Maori who has marched alongside indigenous activists at political rallies — avows that he abhors racism. But in July 2016, when the brouhaha erupted, he stayed ­characteristically silent and let his bandmates issue denials. Then, five months later, the 21-year-old indigenous pop performer Thelma Plum made a far more explosive accusation. The drama again played out on social media, where Plum has built a 40,000-plus following for her outspoken commentary on everything from intersectional feminism to the semi-comic travails of being a “drama queen”. In December 2016 she posted an angry tirade on Facebook accusing Frost of drunkenly abusing her and her boyfriend outside a Sydney hotel, describing it as a terrifying late-night fracas in which Frost spat at her and swung punches that nearly hit her. Plum added that his mistreatment of women was well known and claimed there was video evidence of him racially abusing Dispossessed five months earlier.
Those allegations later disappeared from Facebook after Plum suffered merciless online abuse from Sticky Fingers fans, and her description of the pub altercation was quickly contradicted by an eyewitness, Paige Moore, a friend of Frost’s who insisted he never swung a punch, spat at or came physically close to Plum. But by the time Moore’s account appeared — also on Facebook — the allegations of racial abuse and violence had gone viral on multiple music media sites and social media feeds. Disastrously, Sticky Fingers chose this moment to announce an indefinite hiatus due to unspecified “internal problems”, without actually denying any of Plum’s allegations. “It brought us no pleasure seeing the attacks on her and our feeling was that responding would just worsen the bullying,” says Crabz, who insists the hiatus was mainly prompted by the band’s exhaustion after years of touring. But the ­perception that they weren’t actually denying Plum’s claims was reinforced when Frost released a statement saying he was “incredibly sorry” for hurting people around him, revealing his alcohol addiction and mental health problems but failing to deny the specific allegations. Thousands of the band’s fans logged supportive posts on their Facebook page, but music websites that had once cheerfully promoted Sticky Fingers now turned on them. Joe Earp, editor of The Brag, tweeted: “Sticky Fingers, the famous racist band, have announced they’re too racist to continue.” Pilerats editor Troy Mutton announced he was blacklisting the band. Others — Tone Deaf, ­Pedestrian TV, MusicFeeds — would pile on later. One person who was appalled by the racism accusations was Hetti Perkins, daughter of indigenous activist Charles Perkins, whose son Tyson had filmed many of Sticky Fingers’ videos and who had known the band almost from the beginning. “I reached out privately to some of the ­people directly involved who were attacking the band on social media following the Dispossessed gig,” Perkins recalls. “Knowing the band, I felt that there must have been a misunderstanding — they work with my son and other blackfellas, they’d participated in marches, they’ve done workshops with Koori kids, they’ve got Koori mates like our family. But I got publicly labelled a white apologist and ‘Aunt Jemima’ and it became clear that people weren’t interested in having a dialogue.” In February 2017, Sticky Fingers finished their touring commitments with a gig at the Party In The Paddock festival in Tasmania, then headed back to Sydney. The plan was to recuperate and put the dramas of the previous year behind them. What they hadn’t counted on was a scandal already brewing across the other side of the Pacific involving the Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein. When Kirin J. Callinan turned up at last year’s ARIA Awards wearing a tartan skirt, sans underwear, he wasn’t necessarily aiming to cause a national commotion. For much of his career as a pop provocateur, Callinan has toyed with the ­masculine conventions of rock’n’roll: last year he conducted an entire on-camera interview with SBS television wearing only a beret, and his most recent album, Bravado, features a full-frontal nude shot of him on a sofa, painted bronze. So when Callinan stopped to pose in the ARIAs’ media area outside Star City Casino, several photographers naturally asked what was concealed under his kilt. At which point, he obligingly showed them.
“I’d done lots of nude photo shoots before and I guess I was in that mood,” Callinan recalls of his split-second tackle-flashing, which he now admits was a stupid lapse. “My spirit about these things has always been pretty punk.” But this was November 2017, a month after the Harvey ­Weinstein rape scandal had ignited the #MeToo movement, and the social climate on such ­matters was very far from punk. Women took to social media to denounce him; Pedestrian TV wrongly reported that he had flashed his penis “for a solid couple of seconds”; a Sydney music producer falsely claimed Callinan had exposed himself to children; journalists from SBS and Mamamia called his actions deplorable, toxic and close to sexual assault. Soon the online music journalist Shaad D’Souza added racism to the charges, describing Callinan’s bronzed nude spread as “blackface”. That ­accusation was taken up by transgender Samoan-Australian rapper Miss Blanks, who accused Callinan of ­“normalis[ing] racism, ableism and sexual assault”. Miss Blanks — whose Twitter feed features graphic descriptions of her sex life alongside insulting remarks about “disgusting” white feminists and “old white women” — was the “safe space” ambassador for the Laneway music festival in Melbourne, where she and Callinan were both scheduled to appear. She lobbied Laneway to drop him, and within weeks they complied; in February police charged him with obscene exposure. Today Callinan says his guilty plea and good behaviour bond were less troubling than the “outright lies” about him that spread from social media to the queer and indigenous communities he has always embraced. “I read one online comment about myself that said: ‘This guy has his own ­history of shitty behaviour’,” he recalls. “What does that mean? Half my family on my mother’s side are indigenous; so many of my nearest and dearest identify as gay or lesbian or trans. To be accused publicly of things you have stood against your whole life is hard to take.” Callinan is now preparing to release a new album, uncertain whether he faces future boycott calls. But the storm over his kilt-flash was merely a prelude to the fury that erupted after Sticky ­Fingers emerged from hibernation in March this year to announce a surprise concert in Sydney. Over the previous year, Dylan Frost had undergone three months of drug rehab and received a new diagnosis — borderline personality disorder — and a new medication that still did not resolve his issues. Bass player Paddy Cornwall had spent two and a half weeks in a Sydney psychiatric clinic, emerging with a diagnosis of bipolar. Maintaining a low profile, the band had occupied themselves with holidays, songwriting, recording, and side projects such as a trip to Moree in NSW, where they helped build a recording studio for indigenous youths. “We’d recorded an album fully sober, and we were feeling really good,” Crabz recalls. “This was an example of a new, reformed band, in our view, and we were excited to say, ‘We’re back!’” What ensued was “a bit of a shock”. Three hours before their comeback concert in Sydney, the indigenous rapper and activist Felon Mason issued a Facebook message describing the band as “dogs” and inviting his followers to go to the gig and “shout em off stage. Or even better, someone deal out some proper punishment…” On chat sites and music industry Facebook feeds, meanwhile, unsubstantiated claims circulated that Frost had been involved in domestic violence, an allegation that had already appeared on the band’s own website from people who claimed to know of court proceedings. That accusation is false, says Frost. “There has never been an AVO taken out against me by anyone,” he says. “I’ve been fed up with people making false allegations against me. If anyone has legitimate claims against me, or the rest of the band for that matter, then go to the appropriate authorities and we’ll be held accountable.” Hoping to reset the publicity, and with a world tour pending, the band cajoled Frost into joining them on Triple J’s Hack program in mid-May for an interview that would become their second PR debacle. Questioned about Thelma Plum and ­Dispossessed, Frost struggled to express himself and fell back on the opaque language of his prepared statements. His bandmates, meanwhile, spoke frankly about the way their drinking had fuelled internal fighting and debauchery, but when Frost was asked why he remained silent, he replied haltingly: “I guess I’m not that good at interviews. And in the past — my violence in my past under the influence… I guess, f..kin’ boys will be boys, y’know? And that’s not what I’m here to promote.” No phrase could have outraged #MeToo activists more than “boys will be boys”. Although Frost released a hasty statement clarifying that he had been referring to violence within the band, websites such as Junkee, Noisey and The Brag excoriated the band. “It’s hard for people to believe that the lead singer of a band who can command a crowd of 25,000 might struggle with a one-on-one interview,” says Crabz. “Dylan was kind of cornered into saying ‘boys will be boys’ and ‘shit happens’, which were clumsy lines. But in no shape or form did they mean to reference his ­attitude about violence towards women.” The backlash sent Frost into such a tailspin that he relapsed into drinking, and in the early hours of May 17 he was ejected from a Sydney pub after a shouting match with Alexandra Tanygina, an aspiring transgender model. Tanygina claimed that Frost shouted a transphobic remark; that is disputed by both Frost and an eyewitness who doesn’t know the singer and told this magazine Tanygina provoked the argument. Whatever the truth, transphobia was now added to the ­accusations levelled at Sticky Fingers, and the campaign against them tipped over into outright harassment. On one private Facebook page the indigenous activist Tamika Collins offered the mobile number of the band’s bipolar bass player to anyone who wanted to “f..k his night (and his life) up completely”. “It started getting out of our control,” recalls Crabz. “It was as if people thought they can get away with saying anything they want, and whatever we say is used against us. We had tried to point out that while we may have been obnoxious drunks who’ve trashed hotel rooms, we’re not physical abusers and racists, but that doesn’t really matter for a lot of these people. Just hearing ­‘racism’ and ‘violence against women’ is enough for them to believe we have to be stopped.”
In the midst of it all, the band had sold out a world tour that took them to eight countries in June. It was their first time touring stone-cold sober and they returned feeling buoyed, only to find that the campaign against them had swelled: Miss Blanks was now linking them to “white supremacy” and the all-women punk band Camp Cope were calling them predators. On Twitter LGBTQI activist Sally Rugg accused them of “routinely” abusing transgender, indigenous and queer women, drawing a parallel between their alleged misogyny and the recent murder of Melbourne woman Eurydice Dixon. Dylan Frost’s mother, Stevie, was so appalled she contacted Rugg on Facebook and requested a private conversation “as a woman, as a lesbian, as a feminist”. When Rugg failed to respond, Stevie Frost posted a public comment on Rugg’s Facebook feed informing her that the singer had grown up in a gay household of two mothers in New Zealand, suffering significant homophobic bullying as a result. “What I don’t expect to see,” Frost’s mother wrote, “is the very community he was raised in and had to defend through his life start to turn on him, especially when he has his own internal battles that he is dealing with.” She says Rugg again failed to respond. In early July, Sticky Fingers announced they were withdrawing from the This That festival in Newcastle to avoid dragging the festival into the controversy. Around the same time Frost was readmitted to hospital after an incident of self-harm. “I snapped,” he says. “Even at the height of success there were stresses that I held inside that had nothing to do with the media but more the exhaustion of fighting a war in my own head. “Seeing your name on articles labelled as something you’re strongly against would get to anyone,” he says, “and at first it did affect me but I’ve now grown numb to it. In meetings I’ve attended some say it gets easier, and some say it doesn’t. I’m just finding a way to get better at ­coping with this shit… I can say this: even in the darkest of headspace there’s always light at the end of the tunnel and I think my response to ­anyone battling with this is to not make any rash decisions. In dark places there’s always support there, even if you think there isn’t.”
Sometime later this year the band will begin releasing the new music they have been recording and embark on yet another tour to ­confirm whether a sober Sticky Fingers can still pull in the punters. “Without sounding too hippie about it, we’re all feeling empowered that we’ve been able to take control of something that we thought we couldn’t,” says Crabz. “This is an ongoing recovery. Dylan will play shows with mental health issues, as will Paddy, as will a lot of other people in the industry. I don’t think we should be put in a situation where the opportunity to work and perform is questioned.” But the boycott movement against them carries on, most recently targeting a New Zealand festival they’re due to appear at in October. Privately, promoters and managers confess to being shocked at the treatment of Sticky Fingers, whatever their past sins may have been. “I worry about where activists are going with all this,” says one manager, “especially when I hear talk of blacklists and see music festivals becoming a battleground over gender. Throwing Sticky Fingers under a bus is just a distraction from the real issues of gender inequality in the business. There are record companies who in my memory have never had a woman return to work from maternity leave.” Hetti Perkins expresses a similar dismay at the tactics of Instagram warriors. “It’s no activism I have ever heard of,” she says. “My father and other elders with him and before him fought very hard for the right to say to someone, ‘You’re a ­racist.’ It’s not something you squander by misusing it for your own advantage or aggrandisement. I tell people: there’s a real enemy out there, don’t fight your supporters.” Neither Thelma Plum, Clementine Ford, Tamika Collins nor Sally Rugg responded when asked to substantiate their allegations against the band. And Birrugan Dunn-Velasco, the firebrand indigenous guitarist from Dispossessed who started the campaign against the band, has been difficult to locate since late last year, when ­Dispossessed announced he had been ejected from the band. Among his crimes, according to the band, were victim-blaming, transphobia, queer-phobia and “anti-black comments”.
submitted by brnszy to stickyfingers [link] [comments]

**THE** List of things to do on the Gold Coast.

Hello Everyone,
I frequently see questions about what to do around the coast, in here I will attempt to keep a running list of ideas. Some things are in multiple areas e.g. Fresh food markets/live music so I haven't listed every individual item, if you see something that that interests you try googling to see if there's one in your area!
Starting from North GC then moving south you have:
Pimpama/Ormeau(ish):
Helensvale:
Mt. Tamborine:
Nerang(ish):
Inland from Robina/Nerang area:
Robina:
Burleigh:
Miami/Mermaid/Broadbeach:
LabradoSouthport:
Surfers Paradise:
Currumbin:
Further South:
(Note: This is techincally venturing away from "The GC", but if your near currumbin then these might also be within range)
Special thanks to Veritasfides, Katastrophe87, Nebo64, Sipc, shadesofgray029, and verifiedpain for their suggestions!
Updated 05-10-2019
To do: (Ignore this, or don't. Meh)
-Reboundland
-Fun360
-Bounce inc moved, airfactory gone
-elvis museum
-alpaca farm
-herb cottage
-gold coast clay target club
-Order it so it's actually geographically correct north to south. Duh.
submitted by The_Lambassador to GoldCoast [link] [comments]

The beginning

http://www.stanleymatthew.com/life-as-a-food-beverage-manager
Hey Matthew,
Just wanted to run you an update of where & what I've been up to so far. Try hit you up each week and keep you up with everything i'm doing.
I've been in the hospitality industry for 10 years now and if there is one thing I have learnt; it would be that the goal posts you are aiming for are like the end of a rainbow. No matter how close you think you are getting they keep finding a way to move further away.
It's easy to think then, What's the point? Why do I keep at it? Why do I put up with the unsociable hours? Why do I continue to deal with delusional customers? Why do I endure the painful conversations with difficult or emotional staff? And the list could go on and on.
I think the answer to these questions is very surprising when I truly think about it. It's not because I love alcohol and food. I mean I do love both of those things.... very much. And it’s not because I love interactions with people. I mean this one time I did an introvert/extrovert test at university and scored the highest in a class of 300 or so on the introvert scale, I was one score away from being as introverted as one person could be. So interactions with people exhaust me, especially those I have trouble relating to.
No, why I do it is because of the challenge. It's just so complete as a problem. Almost all facets of life are encompassed by this industry. Ok almost everyone could say that about their own industry and find ways of proving the statement they have made. But hear me out, let me start with where I have come from and what has bought me to where I am today.
So I moved out of home at 19, the only job I had ever had was working with dad during school holidays helping him flip houses. So when I found myself living in a shoe-box apartment in the middle of Auckland City I was stumped as to what to start doing to pay my rent. Across the road from where I lived was the Sky City Casino and they were looking for staff in a bunch of the outlets and gaming floor. As I was still 19 I was too young to work on the gaming floor, but because I was a guy I was given an interview with one of the restaurants who were looking for more men to balance out the team. This was my first dip in. Now I admit, I was a joke when I first started. I was one of "those" workers, you know the ones. The ones that call in sick all the time, ask to go home early and just have an overall lack of effort. As time went on I slowly learned the trade and got better and better, learned how to make coffees and a few basic cocktails. I also gained confidence in talking to random strangers as I asked them what they would like to drink with their buffet dinner. But at no point in this 12-month experience did I ever think that I was now a hospitality worker. It was a means to an end.
Then in 2008, I moved to the Gold Coast in Australia, quit university, ran away from debts, ex-girlfriends, and just general life struggles. At the time I thought it was a great idea and it would solve all my problems. Instead I was young, dumb and well you know the rest. I was unemployed for 3 months. In that time all I achieved was to learn how to solve a Rubix cube in less than a minute and a half. Don’t get me wrong I still pull out that trick at parties but it didn’t exactly help me eat or pay rent. Instead I bludged heavily on other people and ruined friendships because of my incompetence. I managed to find a job at a factory that lasted a month before getting fired for not showing up enough. Then along came Holiday Inn Surfers Paradise. I remember when I took this job I felt like I was getting desperate and this was my job to keep me afloat not actually start a career in. I mean, it was hospitality. People only work in hospitality while studying for their real job right?
Well 12 months went by and I found myself standing with an eventual very good friend who at the time was my big boss. My F&B Manager. He asked me if I wanted to make something of my career and take this job seriously for once. After a few days I came back and told him I was in. I was going to do whatever it took to become the best F&B Attendant at the hotel. And within 6 months I was promoted to a team leader. I spent the summer as this team leader and by the end of it the timing was perfect and I managed to land an F&B Supervisor job. My career had really started. I was now a salaried worker for the first time in my life, I had responsibility and I guess I still felt I had nothing better going for me so I would stick at it and not screw it up.
Of course I almost screwed it up a number of times. What can I say? I get bored and when I'm bored I do dumb stuff. After a couple of secondments at other properties around the country I landed the Meetings & Events Manager at Holiday Inn Brisbane. It was now 2011 and I had a 12-month contract. I had already decided with my partner at the time that at the end of the contract we would go travelling and head to London to live. So after 12 months of intense personal growth that is just what I did. I had really become an adult at this point and my career was no longer something that I did because nothing else was going to pay the bills. I was doing it because I just overcome the hardest 12 months of work in my life and I loved it. I grew leaps and bounds as a leader and enjoyed the rush. It is hard to explain but I started to feel satisfaction for overcoming all the challenges being thrown at me.
So 2012, I just finished 3 months of travelling Asia and landed in London, the next day I had a job interview for a little restaurant called Charlotte’s Place. The day after I was at a two-day trial and then I was hired as the Assistant Restaurant Manager. I was now running one of the most successful independent restaurants in London. We ended up winning Top Restaurant in London in the Good Food Guide awards while I was there.
7 months after arriving in London I had to head home due to family reasons and I found myself back at the Holiday Inn Surfers Paradise, but it was now called the Outrigger Surfers Paradise and I was the Restaurant & Bar Manager. I lasted here 9 months and although I had the worst General Manager ever, I learned so much here. I learned how to earn a pay cheque. This job was tough! I once served 700 customers for breakfast with 2 chefs and 6 wait staff, and the funny part was that I felt it was an easy day because of all the help that I had. I was used to doing 100-150 covers with one chef and one other staff member. That was my typical day. I never ran so much in a job ever. But what it taught me is efficiency and how to still offer a great customer experience with absolutely no staff. I had to think outside the box so often. I had to find ways of being prepared for everything. And I did. I was so good at it. We hardly ever had complaints at breakfast and we were getting smashed every day.
September 2013 I had had enough and I needed something else. I took on a role of Assistant Bar Manager at Palazzo Versace which lasted 6 weeks before being offered the role of Four Winds Restaurant Manager at the Crowne Plaza in Surfers Paradise, which evolved into the Assistant F&B Manager. And during these 13 or so months I learned more about leadership than ever before. My boss had a way of opening my eyes up to it and it all started to click. I started to realise why I was doing this. Why I was putting up with the unsociable hours, Why I continued to deal with delusional customers, Why I endured painful conversations with difficult or emotional staff. The concept hadn't completely formed in my head but it was starting to take shape and with success after success the picture started to become clearer and clearer.
And then December 2014, I got a transfer to Crowne Plaza Terrigal as the F&B Manager. This was it, I had reached department head level and this was kind of the pinnacle of my F&B career. Yeah I will go on to bigger roles with more revenue and more outlets and bigger teams but essentially it is all the same thing, just the stakes are higher. I am the authority on F&B in this hotel reporting directly to the General Manger and until I make the jump to a General Manager the dynamic of the role is never going to really change much from this. I will always report to the General Manager and I will from now on always be in charge of everything F&B. It’s been 16 months in this role now and I am on the verge of my next step. I have started applying for other roles and this time I am looking to Asia, specifically South East Asia.
So now I am in a position to explain my love for this industry, the challenges I face and the reason I keep asking for more, every time I think I have it all figured out and have taken my department or hotel to new heights I realise that the goal posts have picked up and run away from me. Maybe only last year did I really realise there is no perfect hotel or perfect restaurant. You can always be better, you can always improve. And that goes for everything in life. Don't just accept mediocrity.
I now wake up each morning and ask myself "What can I do today to improve on yesterday?"
Talk to you next week bro.
Stanley
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The Most Outrageous Game Show Moments 2 Part 3 - YouTube

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