On Saturday night, I was sitting in an auditorium with about 13,000 other fellow ‘cookers’*. We were in attendance listening to the clinical psychologist Dr Jordan Peterson. He was discussing whether gratitude was a naive position to take in a world where God (if you believe in one or not) allows great suffering.

Mid-elucidation through The Brothers Karamazov (obviously Hitler’s favourite book, according to his loud and nasty detractors) it was apparent, through barely visible smartphone screen, that the Labor party was on track for a historic third term in government. Full majority. Take no prisoners, T. E. Lawrence style.

The allegedly corrupt, forgetful, tyrannical, power-hungry, socialist, human-rights-abusing Labor government was endorsed by the public once more to lead us into … Utopia? Seriously, where was he going with this?

After Dr Peterson’s speech, I was finding it difficult to feel at all grateful. The prevailing thought in my mind was that Victoria’s trauma bond with Andrews is real; just like California’s trauma bond with the used car salesman-like Gavin Newsom is real.

A trauma bond is where someone feels affinity for their abuser through a cycle of abuse (being shot at through rubber bullets for protesting) and positive reinforcement (free tampons!!!)

People don’t just tolerate the abuse, they love it.

Mr Nice (Matt) Guy simply didn’t have the cojones to break people out of their trauma bond. Just like the milquetoast men who cuddle up to women complaining about their scumbag boyfriends.

They do it expecting them to leave them for the Nice Guy because he’s just so darn nice, it never happens. I mean, watch Pretty In Pink. Yes Matt, we know he doesn’t respect us. But we, the public, just don’t care.

I wrote in my last piece that Victorians are either angry or accepting of the lockdowns – it would seem there were more accepting than angry. That the accepting crowd were beneficiaries of the lockdowns more than anything else.

They lapped up their government stipend to watch Netflix, work from home, and order Uber Eats (while the almost-sentient assassin virus attacked the delivery-person underclass, of course.) If there’s another lockdown – and there’s nothing preventing that now, bar an adversarial Legislative Council – they will expect the same.

There will be another cycle of abuse – all we have to do is wait.

In his acceptance speech, Andrews thanked The Science™ – and in Andrews Victoria, the science will resemble the one of The Party. If O’Brien spoke gravity into suspension, he told a captive Winston, he would float away.

Such is the grip on civil society the Andrews machine has. Power beyond the dreams of Tammany Hall or Nucky Johnson. But like any rule for rulers, he has to deliver the goodies to his supporters or he’s out. Even then, it’ll be four long years until we see that happen.

In the midst of doom and gloom, I must remember to follow the example of Peterson. What am I grateful for? I am grateful for a swing against the government. That ALP backbenchers were put on some kind of notice. That the Nationals clawed back some of their constituency. That the Liberal Party realises they need a real firebrand to take on Teflon and Kevlar Dan now and four years hence.

So what should we do in the meantime?

I have faith in liberty, I have faith in reason. Faith in these will get me through.

Keep the faith.