Nurse the Hate: Tasmanian Plan

I have just stumbled into a fabulous opportunity, that of running a Tasmanian sawmill in the 1840s.  What a potential growth industry and launch pad for my ultimate scheme.  Now, I know you might have some objections to this plan.  There are some obstacles to work through such as not having any knowledge about woodcutting, knowing very little about Tasmania, and the challenge of not only moving to Tasmania but also back in time 180 years.  Allow me to remind you that all things worth doing have hurdles to clear, and the satisfaction of overcoming these is part of the joy.

Right out of the gate, let us assume I can build a time machine with construction remnants and instruction from a YouTube video of some kind.  That's done.  Handled.  Let's move on.  The issue will be securing a job as a supervisor at a British penal colony with a thousand criminals forced to do woodcutting.  I feel like there are a very limited number of visitors to Tasmania in the 1840s, so if I just show up and ask around for a job, something should turn up.  I'm not especially tough, so if I can get my foot in the door I think my move will be to oversee a work crew with absolute pitiless brutality.  Maybe if I trump up some charges and hang a few convicts right out of the gate I can catch London's eye and move right up the ladder.  "Hmm, the American bloke that showed up in that time machine is really showing some initiative.  Perhaps we should let him have a go at the entire Port Arthur Penitentiary."   And just like that I will have slave labor at my disposal.


Part of my rough idea of succeeding in 1840s Tasmania is immediately securing a quiet but viscous Aboriginal sidekick as muscle.  I see him as wearing a combination of traditional garb and 1800s Anglo khaki while toting a rifle and scary knife.  I need him to have heavy drooping eyelids and almost no expression as he swiftly dispatches my ordered violence.  These workers of mine will be convicts, so I will need them to fear me.  It's part of the job after all.  After an adjustment period, I think we will all become friends, and by "friends" I mean none of the convicts will try to kill me when I sleep because they are worried my sidekick will kill their extended families if they get caught trying any stunts.

So what's the long game here you ask?  Sparkling wine my friend, sparking wine.  I have learned through my WSET wine weekend that Tasmania is the center of the Australian sparkling industry.  They've got the right climate, potential vineyard sites and soils.  Some of the larger Australian corporate concerns have well maintained positions in the best vineyard sites currently.  This means I will need to think out of the box and effectively beat them to the punch by securing the land over a century earlier.  Whereas these people are smugly producing their wines now, they have no idea that an American entrepreneur is about to undo their work and create his own monopoly by savagely muscling in.  It's a plan that is simple and foolproof.

The goal is to make big profits in woodcutting.  Having the advantage of being able to look at historical data, I will always be one step ahead of the market.  Then I will take this profit and invest in my sparkling wine facility while using my forced labor to clear and plant vineyards in the best potential sites as have already been identified 180 years later with current technology.  I will corner the Tasmanian sparkling wine market and festoon the bottles with a woodcutting of my image in a British colonial helmet of some kind.  This trademark will become ubiquitous with the symbol of "quality" (and "cold
blooded forced labor" unless I get a good PR firm cracking in about 1865 or so).

The interesting thing is that when I execute this plan you won't even know it.  One day you are reading this thinking, "hmm, that's a guy with some big goals".  Then I will have gone back in time, done it, and it will seem as if you have always known "Miller's Sparkling" to have been the finest Tasmanian sparkler.  Miller's has just always been there, a beacon of Tasmanian good taste.  It's a shame I won't get to enjoy the accolades of my success in 2017 as I will be busy hanging people and clearing fields in 1846.  Sacrifices are necessary I suppose.

Cheers.  To new adventures.  Prepare to raise your flute of Miller's Sparkling.