Figures have just been released showing 1400 of the boys in blue have been caught speeding in the last year, a significant amount in school zones (these zones have a 40kph limit to protect dumb as a stick kids who rush out onto the road without looking. Isn't that what the bloody parents are for...???).
Right away, Jason Morrison of radio 2GB, that fat tub of lard, leapt to the defence of "our police officers", claiming that "by the law of averages, bearing in mind how much time they spend on the road, the chances of breaking a road rule are greatly increased".
Fucking sycophant!
Let me tell you something fat boy; the bloody filth speed about because they think that because they ARE the law, they're above it.
He also spoke on his program about the Melbourne shooting and, surprise surprise, defended that also, spouting some shit about another case where some nutbag woman armed with a knife stood outside a police station and called the coppers out with intent to harm.
They came out and in the process of attempting to disarm the woman, one cop "suffered a cut to his head".
Is this really the standard of cop we now have in the force? These pathetic soft cocks who spend more time in counselling than they do protecting the public?
Oh boohoo, poor wittle powice officer got a cut to his head.
There's a common term that fits perfectly here and it starts, "if you can't stand the heat...".
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
LA COMES TO MELBOURNE
Ive never had much of an opinion of the filth. Ever since my days as a young man when I raced about on my Powervalve (it's a motorbike - such a motorbike) and was relentlessly harrassed by a bored Police force which had been strengthened after an IRA bomb exploded in the town, and now several years on had nothing to do, my opinion towards them was one of contempt. You have to understand I was stopped three or four times a night and asked to show my licence to these bored cops. A pain in the arse!
(However, let me even the scales as it were by saying that in Ulster - Northern Ireland - in the late 60s, 70s and 80s, terrorism was at its peak and certain areas were virtually war zones – the worst being the county of Armagh, aka “bandit country”, and the border between the north and south where the PIRA (Provisional IRA) constantly ferried weapons across and sniped at security forces, killing dozens. The police and army who were based in this area had to wear flak jackets and carry sub-machine guns. Helicopters and armoured vehicles constantly patrolled.
So dangerous was this place, only unmarried officers were sent there as compensation claims were less than if a spouse or children were removed of a husband/father).
Nevertheless, aside from these dangerous areas, the Filth were nothing but a bloody nuisance.
And the following does nothing to change that opinion.
In Melbourne just recently, a 15 year old boy was shot and killed by four police officers, echoing the style of LA cops who have often shot before asking and regularly beat citizens, well, for fun it would appear.
It has, understandably, caused quite a stir.
This young boy, who had lost his father 4 years previous, had just a few hours earlier been robbed and beaten on a train (where were his protectors then?) He had come home upset, and left again in a state of distress. His mother had called the police, concerned for her son’s safety and asked them to find him and bring him home. She "had faith that the system would protect him from harm. The system failed him".
At some point the boy had acquired a knife. Shortly thereafter the police caught up with him at an empty skate park. He reportedly screamed at them, “kill me or I’ll kill you”. The boy was obviously disturbed but at this point was threatening no-one other than the four, adult, trained (allegedly) police officers. The boy was 5 foot 7 inches tall and weighed just 58 kilos. The cops apparently used capsicum spray on him but again apparently to no no effect. I've seen this substance demonstrated and if used correctly, i.e. in the subject's eyes, it is extremely effective. So our keystone cops must've aimed at his body or something...
Here’s where the travesty occurs: there were four, that’s right, FOUR police officers in attendance and when faced with a clearly disturbed youngster, they shot him seven times in what has been seen as a blatant execution. They claim they were threatened (all four of them? By a small boy?) Are we seriously to believe that four trained police officers, even given two were female, couldn’t disarm a 58 kilogram boy?
Moreover, why the hurry? The boy wasn’t a threat to anyone, except maybe himself; why couldn’t these supposedly trained cops have waited the boy out? Tried to talk him down as it were? He could only attack one at a time so that left three to restrain him. Was there any real need to fire seven shots from three guns into him? (It should be noted that in actual fact, ten shots were fired – three missed – so much for professionally trained police!) And who gave the order to shoot? Which one of these supposed professional police officers decided that four of them couldn’t disarm a slip of a teenager, and had to execute him? For Christ’s sake, I’m fairly confident I could disarm a 58 kilo boy by myself! Yet four cops couldn’t???? What is wrong with this picture?
This reeks of trigger-happy cops. Either that or cops who were trained so badly, they couldn’t handle the situation, in which case they shouldn't be cops. Well, their mishandling of it has resulted in the totally unnecessary death of a teenage boy. I think they should be charged with manslaughter – at least. Of course they won’t be; their actions have already been defended by their Commissioner. “Oh we have to keep the public safe”, he claims. What fucking public? It was the youngster and them – that’s it!
There is something very wrong here, when the people paid to protect us, go off like gun-toting cowboys from the Wild West. And undoubtedly get of scot-free.
(However, let me even the scales as it were by saying that in Ulster - Northern Ireland - in the late 60s, 70s and 80s, terrorism was at its peak and certain areas were virtually war zones – the worst being the county of Armagh, aka “bandit country”, and the border between the north and south where the PIRA (Provisional IRA) constantly ferried weapons across and sniped at security forces, killing dozens. The police and army who were based in this area had to wear flak jackets and carry sub-machine guns. Helicopters and armoured vehicles constantly patrolled.
So dangerous was this place, only unmarried officers were sent there as compensation claims were less than if a spouse or children were removed of a husband/father).
Nevertheless, aside from these dangerous areas, the Filth were nothing but a bloody nuisance.
And the following does nothing to change that opinion.
In Melbourne just recently, a 15 year old boy was shot and killed by four police officers, echoing the style of LA cops who have often shot before asking and regularly beat citizens, well, for fun it would appear.
It has, understandably, caused quite a stir.
This young boy, who had lost his father 4 years previous, had just a few hours earlier been robbed and beaten on a train (where were his protectors then?) He had come home upset, and left again in a state of distress. His mother had called the police, concerned for her son’s safety and asked them to find him and bring him home. She "had faith that the system would protect him from harm. The system failed him".
At some point the boy had acquired a knife. Shortly thereafter the police caught up with him at an empty skate park. He reportedly screamed at them, “kill me or I’ll kill you”. The boy was obviously disturbed but at this point was threatening no-one other than the four, adult, trained (allegedly) police officers. The boy was 5 foot 7 inches tall and weighed just 58 kilos. The cops apparently used capsicum spray on him but again apparently to no no effect. I've seen this substance demonstrated and if used correctly, i.e. in the subject's eyes, it is extremely effective. So our keystone cops must've aimed at his body or something...
Here’s where the travesty occurs: there were four, that’s right, FOUR police officers in attendance and when faced with a clearly disturbed youngster, they shot him seven times in what has been seen as a blatant execution. They claim they were threatened (all four of them? By a small boy?) Are we seriously to believe that four trained police officers, even given two were female, couldn’t disarm a 58 kilogram boy?
Moreover, why the hurry? The boy wasn’t a threat to anyone, except maybe himself; why couldn’t these supposedly trained cops have waited the boy out? Tried to talk him down as it were? He could only attack one at a time so that left three to restrain him. Was there any real need to fire seven shots from three guns into him? (It should be noted that in actual fact, ten shots were fired – three missed – so much for professionally trained police!) And who gave the order to shoot? Which one of these supposed professional police officers decided that four of them couldn’t disarm a slip of a teenager, and had to execute him? For Christ’s sake, I’m fairly confident I could disarm a 58 kilo boy by myself! Yet four cops couldn’t???? What is wrong with this picture?
This reeks of trigger-happy cops. Either that or cops who were trained so badly, they couldn’t handle the situation, in which case they shouldn't be cops. Well, their mishandling of it has resulted in the totally unnecessary death of a teenage boy. I think they should be charged with manslaughter – at least. Of course they won’t be; their actions have already been defended by their Commissioner. “Oh we have to keep the public safe”, he claims. What fucking public? It was the youngster and them – that’s it!
There is something very wrong here, when the people paid to protect us, go off like gun-toting cowboys from the Wild West. And undoubtedly get of scot-free.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
HELLOOOOOO, POLLYEEEEEE!!!!!!!
I've been communicating lately with a customer service person by the name of Polly. (Full name withheld obviously).
Python fans will recognise the title of this post immediately. And myself, being one such fan, did too, the first time I greeted the woman with the immortal words.
And now, every time I greet the woman, I'm reminded of Cleese and Palin in the famous Parrot sketch. Cleese swinging the, blue Norweigan I think, by the feet, banging it off the counter while loudly speaking, "Hellooooo, Pollyeeeee. Wakey, wakey".
Hahaha, oh man...priceless.
And leads to...
That, my friend, is a dead parrot. Deceased; bereft of life.
No it's not...it's sleeping!
Honestly, if you want to get anywhere in life, you have to complain til you're blue in the face!
Annnnyway...I'll never think of "Polly" the same way again.
Python fans will recognise the title of this post immediately. And myself, being one such fan, did too, the first time I greeted the woman with the immortal words.
And now, every time I greet the woman, I'm reminded of Cleese and Palin in the famous Parrot sketch. Cleese swinging the, blue Norweigan I think, by the feet, banging it off the counter while loudly speaking, "Hellooooo, Pollyeeeee. Wakey, wakey".
Hahaha, oh man...priceless.
And leads to...
That, my friend, is a dead parrot. Deceased; bereft of life.
No it's not...it's sleeping!
Honestly, if you want to get anywhere in life, you have to complain til you're blue in the face!
Annnnyway...I'll never think of "Polly" the same way again.
Friday, November 28, 2008
UN-BE-FUCKING-LIEVEABLE #2
WATER USAGE CHARGE ------------ $17.71
TOTAL SYDNEY WATER BILL ------------ $156.70
NUFF SAID!
TOTAL SYDNEY WATER BILL ------------ $156.70
NUFF SAID!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
NO MORE FREE BLOOD
The NSW economy is in a shocking state. After years of mismanagement, first under Bob Carr, then after he saw the writing on the wall and then like the proverbial rat and the sinking ship, defected to the millionaire factory (the Macquarie Bank), the reigns were thrust upon Morris "the fuckwit" Iemma (remember that cretin...).
Iemma, then sacked by his own party for screaming incompetence, handed said reigns to Nathan Rees.
Rees, who's been under intense pressure ever since to do...something, anything to repair the damage has taken the chopper to the economy. First he has cancelled all students' bus passes. Now they have to pay for transport to their respective schools. He has also cancelled the pollies free transport on the public system (not that they ever used a train or bus - merely content to assure the desperate public as they squeezed into overcrowded, un-airconditioned trains, that the system was improving).
But now, in what has to be the most Scrooge-like of decisions, he has deemed it necessary to, wait for it, CHARGE PEOPLE FOR GIVING BLOOD!
Yep, you heard right; those people who give up their time and their very own blood are now having to pay for that privilege. This at a time when blood stocks are at an all time low and when the Red Cross et al are desperately advertising for more donors to come forward.
Good luck with that!
Un-fucking-believeable!
Iemma, then sacked by his own party for screaming incompetence, handed said reigns to Nathan Rees.
Rees, who's been under intense pressure ever since to do...something, anything to repair the damage has taken the chopper to the economy. First he has cancelled all students' bus passes. Now they have to pay for transport to their respective schools. He has also cancelled the pollies free transport on the public system (not that they ever used a train or bus - merely content to assure the desperate public as they squeezed into overcrowded, un-airconditioned trains, that the system was improving).
But now, in what has to be the most Scrooge-like of decisions, he has deemed it necessary to, wait for it, CHARGE PEOPLE FOR GIVING BLOOD!
Yep, you heard right; those people who give up their time and their very own blood are now having to pay for that privilege. This at a time when blood stocks are at an all time low and when the Red Cross et al are desperately advertising for more donors to come forward.
Good luck with that!
Un-fucking-believeable!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
TO ANNOUNCE SCOOB'S PROMOTION TO "SUPERDOG".
I always knew he was tough - my big man. He has never backed down from a rumble (in which he defends against an offence, it's important to point out) and remains undefeated in his battles.
Just recently he chased off another impertenent who dared puff out his chest. And this, one day after the event.
The event? I hear (someone - it might be just me playing devil's advocate, a means I use regularly to gain objectivity in all things...) ask.
Well, Scoob got hit by a car 3 nights ago. And when I say hit, I mean, SLAMMED! Front and centre. Virtually to the inch, the bumper of the vehicle right where the number plate lies, impacted with the left side of the his body at about 60kph.
He disappeared under the vehicle which, I must add, didn't slow down; no flash of brake lights, no change in engine pitch, just the dull thud of impact as it flattened Scoob in an instant.
A millisecond later the car sped on and revealed Scoob, who immediately sprung to his feet and bolted back towards home (thoroughly freaked out I'd imagine).
So off I went after him, noticing immediately that he was running perfectly well, therefore he mustn't have broken any legs. Of course, adrenalin, that most addictive of natural chemicals, could explain that but still, he was running fluently and so far he hadn't uttered a sound of pain or distress.
Nevertheless, internal injuries are, perhaps more so even, life-threatening so off I puffed (*damn you Winnie Blue!).
We arrived, (myself and Mutley, who at this point was feeling a tad ripped off at the "half-walk") to find Scoob on the back porch, panting away, but otherwise, to the naked eye unharmed, save for a skinned "elbow" of his front right leg.
Which he has proceeded to periodically over the days since zero hour lick clean. It's healing up very nicely. (Canine saliva - for canines - is like penicillin for dogs, a magic substance that appears to cure all ills).
So anyway...a note about the driver of the vehicle. As I have said, the vehicle didn't alter speed in any way. It was almost like she (bear with me) didn't realise she had hit anything at all; probably thought it was a bottle, or stone or something. An incorrect assumption no doubt facilitated by the loud "doof doof" music and the excitable jabbering to her bestest friend on the other end of her 25 megapixel superduper mobile phone.
I say she, because it was a "girl's" car (you know what I mean - one of those wee small gay looking cars in which hoards of teenage/young girls zip around like they're trying to kill themselves). It had the green "P" plate signifying the driver's inexperience too.
Scoob himself I've decided is partly to blame for stepping out in front of the car but he's only a dog, as they say so his responsibility is little.
Ultimately it is myself who must bear the greater responsibility. I know that. And I'm thankful to the power that decided to merely teach me an invaluable lesson, rather than enduring a much more painful end. One more foot either way, another millisecond in time, and Scoob would've been crushed under the wheels (wonder would he driver have stopped then...). Hard as he appears to be, he surely would've died should this have happened.
I won't let this happen again.
My self-obsessed ramblings aside, this post is to announce Scoob's promotion. Henceforth he shall be known as Superdog (But he knows "Scoob" so when out it'll have to remain that if I want him to obey).
* Winnie Blue - colloquially altered name of Australia's most popular tobacco, apparently.
Just recently he chased off another impertenent who dared puff out his chest. And this, one day after the event.
The event? I hear (someone - it might be just me playing devil's advocate, a means I use regularly to gain objectivity in all things...) ask.
Well, Scoob got hit by a car 3 nights ago. And when I say hit, I mean, SLAMMED! Front and centre. Virtually to the inch, the bumper of the vehicle right where the number plate lies, impacted with the left side of the his body at about 60kph.
He disappeared under the vehicle which, I must add, didn't slow down; no flash of brake lights, no change in engine pitch, just the dull thud of impact as it flattened Scoob in an instant.
A millisecond later the car sped on and revealed Scoob, who immediately sprung to his feet and bolted back towards home (thoroughly freaked out I'd imagine).
So off I went after him, noticing immediately that he was running perfectly well, therefore he mustn't have broken any legs. Of course, adrenalin, that most addictive of natural chemicals, could explain that but still, he was running fluently and so far he hadn't uttered a sound of pain or distress.
Nevertheless, internal injuries are, perhaps more so even, life-threatening so off I puffed (*damn you Winnie Blue!).
We arrived, (myself and Mutley, who at this point was feeling a tad ripped off at the "half-walk") to find Scoob on the back porch, panting away, but otherwise, to the naked eye unharmed, save for a skinned "elbow" of his front right leg.
Which he has proceeded to periodically over the days since zero hour lick clean. It's healing up very nicely. (Canine saliva - for canines - is like penicillin for dogs, a magic substance that appears to cure all ills).
So anyway...a note about the driver of the vehicle. As I have said, the vehicle didn't alter speed in any way. It was almost like she (bear with me) didn't realise she had hit anything at all; probably thought it was a bottle, or stone or something. An incorrect assumption no doubt facilitated by the loud "doof doof" music and the excitable jabbering to her bestest friend on the other end of her 25 megapixel superduper mobile phone.
I say she, because it was a "girl's" car (you know what I mean - one of those wee small gay looking cars in which hoards of teenage/young girls zip around like they're trying to kill themselves). It had the green "P" plate signifying the driver's inexperience too.
Scoob himself I've decided is partly to blame for stepping out in front of the car but he's only a dog, as they say so his responsibility is little.
Ultimately it is myself who must bear the greater responsibility. I know that. And I'm thankful to the power that decided to merely teach me an invaluable lesson, rather than enduring a much more painful end. One more foot either way, another millisecond in time, and Scoob would've been crushed under the wheels (wonder would he driver have stopped then...). Hard as he appears to be, he surely would've died should this have happened.
I won't let this happen again.
My self-obsessed ramblings aside, this post is to announce Scoob's promotion. Henceforth he shall be known as Superdog (But he knows "Scoob" so when out it'll have to remain that if I want him to obey).
* Winnie Blue - colloquially altered name of Australia's most popular tobacco, apparently.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
THE FIRST BLACK PRESIDENT
Barrack "Hussein" Obama. Hoho, now there's a name. Many thought they'd never live to see the day an African American won the race to the white house. Well, that day is now here. History making stuff in fact.
Except...
He's not really black. His father is black, an indiginent of Kenya, but his mother is a white American so he's more of a half caste type. Actually I haven't seen his mother but i have seen his grandmother in a picture from 1979 and she's white as bread so it follows.
So half black, half white. And to look at him you can see it. Not that there's anything wrong with that you understand but I wonder if he'd been full on black would he be there or is this halfway measure a way of breaking in the public for a full negro next time. Nothing wrong with that either, it's just a curiosity.
Anyway, he's in, and he's been handed the biggest bag of shite of an economy since time (America's at least) began.
Bit of work ahead. As I've said before, interesting times ahead.
Except...
He's not really black. His father is black, an indiginent of Kenya, but his mother is a white American so he's more of a half caste type. Actually I haven't seen his mother but i have seen his grandmother in a picture from 1979 and she's white as bread so it follows.
So half black, half white. And to look at him you can see it. Not that there's anything wrong with that you understand but I wonder if he'd been full on black would he be there or is this halfway measure a way of breaking in the public for a full negro next time. Nothing wrong with that either, it's just a curiosity.
Anyway, he's in, and he's been handed the biggest bag of shite of an economy since time (America's at least) began.
Bit of work ahead. As I've said before, interesting times ahead.
Monday, October 20, 2008
THE VALENTINO EFFECT
It's of no surprise of course, that Valentino has fans all over the world - and rightly so.
What is a little surprising though, is that when asked who he would like to be if he wasn't a hugely successful movie star (and the man of many a woman's dreams...), Brad Pitt replied, "Valentino Rossi".
It seems Braddy boy's a big MotoGP fan. He has visited Rossi in his race pit several times. Lucky bastard! (Pitt, not Rossi).
(Wouldn't mind being Rossi for a few days myself...).
What is a little surprising though, is that when asked who he would like to be if he wasn't a hugely successful movie star (and the man of many a woman's dreams...), Brad Pitt replied, "Valentino Rossi".
It seems Braddy boy's a big MotoGP fan. He has visited Rossi in his race pit several times. Lucky bastard! (Pitt, not Rossi).
(Wouldn't mind being Rossi for a few days myself...).
Monday, October 13, 2008
A FAMILY AFFAIR
The Bathurst 1000 was run yesterday. A V8 "Supercar" (as they like to refer to them) race which has over time achieved unparalleled adoration from fans. The race of races.
Bathurst Council, however, seeing the potential for money - (mmmm...loads of lovely money which they can use to buy hookers, go on overseas trips, bleed the system like a MF), have along with those easily led cretins in the world, promoted the race meet as...a family affair.
Bring your caravans, your 4000 dollar tents with barbecue, and worst of all (fucking nightmare in fact…) your kids. Yep, they’re not going to fuck up the weekend! I can just hear it, "Excuse me...do you mind not using that kind of language in front of my child".
Have you ever considered you dopey fuckin bint, that I (and others) may not love your wittle bundle of fun as much as you do? That the wee brat running around screaming actually annoys me (us) more than my swearing (at a race meet!!!) does, you?
Not to sound overly cranky, but it’s a motor race we’re talking about here. It’s not for families. I mean, really, it’s for gangs of blokes – not "gang" gangs, as would be typically imagined, but groups of blokes, beer, semi-naked girls etc.
Having a great ole time.
But his whole “family” thing seems to be at the heart of everything and no better place to see it nauseatingly demonstrated than morning fucking TV. Those news shows with the pretty presenters, the females (though they’d rather go to the sword than confess…) dressed in teasingly slinky clothes.
Hey, don’t blame me – I have to look a the women as sex objects to combat the aforementioned stomach-churning “family”… … bollocks!
A family affair indeed. FUCK OFF FROTBATYLDWY.
And stay the fuck away from my motorsport with your brats!!
Bathurst Council, however, seeing the potential for money - (mmmm...loads of lovely money which they can use to buy hookers, go on overseas trips, bleed the system like a MF), have along with those easily led cretins in the world, promoted the race meet as...a family affair.
Bring your caravans, your 4000 dollar tents with barbecue, and worst of all (fucking nightmare in fact…) your kids. Yep, they’re not going to fuck up the weekend! I can just hear it, "Excuse me...do you mind not using that kind of language in front of my child".
Have you ever considered you dopey fuckin bint, that I (and others) may not love your wittle bundle of fun as much as you do? That the wee brat running around screaming actually annoys me (us) more than my swearing (at a race meet!!!) does, you?
Not to sound overly cranky, but it’s a motor race we’re talking about here. It’s not for families. I mean, really, it’s for gangs of blokes – not "gang" gangs, as would be typically imagined, but groups of blokes, beer, semi-naked girls etc.
Having a great ole time.
But his whole “family” thing seems to be at the heart of everything and no better place to see it nauseatingly demonstrated than morning fucking TV. Those news shows with the pretty presenters, the females (though they’d rather go to the sword than confess…) dressed in teasingly slinky clothes.
Hey, don’t blame me – I have to look a the women as sex objects to combat the aforementioned stomach-churning “family”… … bollocks!
A family affair indeed. FUCK OFF FROTBATYLDWY.
And stay the fuck away from my motorsport with your brats!!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
NEWS IN BRIEF SUNDAY 12TH OCTOBER
There's not a great deal in this weekend's Rag. Unsurprisingly, the current financial crisis takes up most of it. Turns out, the mammoth 700 billion rescue package may not actually be enough. Ouch.
I should point out, though, that the rescue packages from the various governments (US, British, German, Icelandic...to name but a few) aren't a product of the goverments' benevolence as they would have one believe. No, this is taxpayers' hard earned money that is taken from them.
And now it's being used to protect banks. Banks. Remember them? Those MFs who rip us off at every turn.
Now they're in trouble and good old Joe Blogs is having to bale them out. Then, when they reright themselves, it'll be back to stroking their benefactor.
Is this the definition of irony?
There's a piece inside the Rag which tells of "$7 Trillion wiped out by mad panic". Global shares it seems, have taken a battering. The US market fell by 18% - the worst weekly performance since 1914 apparently. The spite in me takes a certain amount of satisfaction from the knowledge that the rich aren't so rich anymore (mind you, they'll survive - they always do).
Britt Lapthorne, the Australian backpacker, has been found in the sea off the coast of Croatia. The headline of the story says, "Murdered and dumped at sea...). Further reading reveals that she was missing her arms too. A shark taking the limbs has been discounted which goes to add a rather macabre element to the already disturbing story. The parents are as one could imagine, devastated.
Returning to an old story, there's a small side piece entitled "Risk to obese mums". This article tells of the 45% increase of diabetes in the last ten years. Experts attribute such an increase to two things - women having children later in life and obesity. Frankly I think the later childbirth thing is simply to soften the blow for the fatties. I can't possibly see how having a child in later years can cause diabetes but obesity on the other hand is well known and proven to cause just that.
"Aww, don't vilify the fatties...it's not their fault. (Let's give it to the bastard smokers instead!!)"
Further in...a bit about the US Government investing heavily in banks, therefore extending the 700 billion package, and in effect nationalizing some. As I said, interesting times ahead.
Sarah Palin's in the news again (mind you it's an election year so she'll be in there every day for the duration...). This time she's accused of abusing her authority when she attempted to have her former brother-in-law, a state trooper, sacked by using her husband's contacts in the Governor's office.
Yeah...whatever, I'd still eat chips out of her pants!
The Pope has offended Jews apparently - by supporting declaring his controversial WWII predecessor Pius XII, a saint. Controversial because he refused to condemn the Holocaust.
The Pope offending someone??? Surely not!!!
That's about it. Some domestic stuff for which I can find no interest, the pretty people at parties, and that's all folks!
I should point out, though, that the rescue packages from the various governments (US, British, German, Icelandic...to name but a few) aren't a product of the goverments' benevolence as they would have one believe. No, this is taxpayers' hard earned money that is taken from them.
And now it's being used to protect banks. Banks. Remember them? Those MFs who rip us off at every turn.
Now they're in trouble and good old Joe Blogs is having to bale them out. Then, when they reright themselves, it'll be back to stroking their benefactor.
Is this the definition of irony?
There's a piece inside the Rag which tells of "$7 Trillion wiped out by mad panic". Global shares it seems, have taken a battering. The US market fell by 18% - the worst weekly performance since 1914 apparently. The spite in me takes a certain amount of satisfaction from the knowledge that the rich aren't so rich anymore (mind you, they'll survive - they always do).
Britt Lapthorne, the Australian backpacker, has been found in the sea off the coast of Croatia. The headline of the story says, "Murdered and dumped at sea...). Further reading reveals that she was missing her arms too. A shark taking the limbs has been discounted which goes to add a rather macabre element to the already disturbing story. The parents are as one could imagine, devastated.
Returning to an old story, there's a small side piece entitled "Risk to obese mums". This article tells of the 45% increase of diabetes in the last ten years. Experts attribute such an increase to two things - women having children later in life and obesity. Frankly I think the later childbirth thing is simply to soften the blow for the fatties. I can't possibly see how having a child in later years can cause diabetes but obesity on the other hand is well known and proven to cause just that.
"Aww, don't vilify the fatties...it's not their fault. (Let's give it to the bastard smokers instead!!)"
Further in...a bit about the US Government investing heavily in banks, therefore extending the 700 billion package, and in effect nationalizing some. As I said, interesting times ahead.
Sarah Palin's in the news again (mind you it's an election year so she'll be in there every day for the duration...). This time she's accused of abusing her authority when she attempted to have her former brother-in-law, a state trooper, sacked by using her husband's contacts in the Governor's office.
Yeah...whatever, I'd still eat chips out of her pants!
The Pope has offended Jews apparently - by supporting declaring his controversial WWII predecessor Pius XII, a saint. Controversial because he refused to condemn the Holocaust.
The Pope offending someone??? Surely not!!!
That's about it. Some domestic stuff for which I can find no interest, the pretty people at parties, and that's all folks!
Friday, October 10, 2008
Hardly Valentino I'll admit, but let me put it this way - what he is feeling as he's crouched over his mighty Yamaha M1, I'm feeling on the lesser yet still perfectly adequate ZX. (It matters not what one races - as long as one races...).
Concentration, focus, heart-pounding excitement. And a single-minded desire to push the man and machine to their absolute limits.
Nothing compares - except maybe a fighter jet but I haven't had the pleasure so who knows...
HOW MUCH # 2...
In an earlier post I talked about the enormous figures being used nowadays to describe the global economy - tongue in cheek but as with most humour, an element of truth lies within.
Well, I heard a news report yesterday concerning America's "Debt Clock". This is a clock that records America's current debt level (which is so large it's almost incomprehensible...).
The current debt has reached such epic proportions that a digit space has had to be added to the already 14 spaces currently in use. I only saw a flash image of the clock so don't know if they display the cent figure, i.e. two more digit spaces after a digital point. One would understand if it was considered pointless - much like the fazing out of the diminutive "penny", or one cent. These figures, ironically, so tiny that they become effectively unusable - but for the sake of accuracy, they might remain pertinent.
Regardless, it's "the other end" of the fantastic figure that concerns this post.
And with this new space comes a new title for yet another level of numeracy.
"Quadrillion", apparently. I have no idea exactly what this "number" represents but as the previous highest was a trillion, and in maths quad represents four...
Mind you, current logic jumps a level, instead of a thousand million it's a billion so by that logic, a thousand trillion would be, what, this new quadrillion?
So for example, 4 thousand trillion would be 4 quadrillion.
See what I mean? When one speaks in this almost foreign tongue, the amounts represented are just "silly money" as they might say. Monopoly-like figures that have in part lost their meaning.
What's next? After quadrillion?
Well, I heard a news report yesterday concerning America's "Debt Clock". This is a clock that records America's current debt level (which is so large it's almost incomprehensible...).
The current debt has reached such epic proportions that a digit space has had to be added to the already 14 spaces currently in use. I only saw a flash image of the clock so don't know if they display the cent figure, i.e. two more digit spaces after a digital point. One would understand if it was considered pointless - much like the fazing out of the diminutive "penny", or one cent. These figures, ironically, so tiny that they become effectively unusable - but for the sake of accuracy, they might remain pertinent.
Regardless, it's "the other end" of the fantastic figure that concerns this post.
And with this new space comes a new title for yet another level of numeracy.
"Quadrillion", apparently. I have no idea exactly what this "number" represents but as the previous highest was a trillion, and in maths quad represents four...
Mind you, current logic jumps a level, instead of a thousand million it's a billion so by that logic, a thousand trillion would be, what, this new quadrillion?
So for example, 4 thousand trillion would be 4 quadrillion.
See what I mean? When one speaks in this almost foreign tongue, the amounts represented are just "silly money" as they might say. Monopoly-like figures that have in part lost their meaning.
What's next? After quadrillion?
Saturday, October 04, 2008
TWENTY-NINE YEARS OLD...EIGHTH WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP
I'm talking of course, about the sensational Valentino Rossi.
Starting as a fresh-faced 16 year old in the 125 class, he spent his inaugural year learning the circuits and machine.
Second year he won the championship, becoming the youngest ever rider to win it. Record number one.
Next year he moved to the 250's. Again, the first year was spent learning the machine.
Second year he won the championship,
Then he moved to the sought after Premier class, at that time the vicious 500cc machines, which were all but guided missiles.
...Learned the machine, next year...well, you see where this is going.
Then he defended it the next year which is the true sign of a real champion.
He has won 6 times since, including five on the trot; 2001, the final 500cc race before the change to the MotoGP, 2002 and 3 then the switching of manufacturers from Honda to (the struggling at the time), Yamaha, and 04 and 05 followed. This winning spree also saw the machines develop from the 500s to the updated MotoGP machines which are (now) 800cc four stroke machines. They were 1000cc but deemed by the authorities too fast so the cc was reduced. Then motorcycle development being in perpetual motion as it is, saw the 800's being quicker than their larger, (therefore heavier) cousins.
And along the way he has broken record after record, including the revered title of most races in the Premier class, held since the 60's by Giamaco Agostini.
He now has but one record to chase - the most wins over all classes, a record held also by Agostini at 123. Valentino has 88.
So all hail Valentino; he is beyond question the most successful motorcycle pilot of all time - and still only 29 years of age.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
SIR RICHARD'S AT IT AGAIN
Yep, after, (successfully it must be said) taking on credit card institutions and the established airlines (British Airlines in fact were found to have acted unprofessionally when they attempted to prevent Virgin from operating - and were fined appropriately...) Sir Dicky, has now entered the fitness market.
And in typical fashion, and what we've come to expect from the great man's Virgin brand, he is offering a pay as you go fitness club without any of the extortionate exit fees that members have been charged for years.
I have a lot of time for this self-made millionaire.
More power to ye, Sir Richard.
And in typical fashion, and what we've come to expect from the great man's Virgin brand, he is offering a pay as you go fitness club without any of the extortionate exit fees that members have been charged for years.
I have a lot of time for this self-made millionaire.
More power to ye, Sir Richard.
lRISHMAN STILL IN COMA
Twenty-nine year old David Keohane, an Irishman holidaying in Australia was out drinking with friends at the Coogee Bay Hotel in Sydney's Eastern Suburbs on Friday the 8th of August.
By 3 AM on the Saturday morning he was found unconscious on the street nearby. He was rushed to hospital where he slipped into a coma.
His parents flew him home to Ireland where he remains in the same condition. To the credit of his spirit, when his parents agreed to have the ventilator switched off, expecting him to pass away, he continued to breath on his own.
We can only hope.
A 20 year old Towelhead has been arrested and charged with attempted murder and faces other charges including robbery (the reason for the heinous attack). His skanky (probably Towelheaded as well) girlfriend has also been charged with hindering police and concealing a serious offence.
The police are searching for, and are confident of locating, a second man. No doubt another fuckin Towelhead.
This is why I don't go to bars - especially the notorious Coogee Bay Hotel which has a well-known shocking reputation for such acts of violence from its patrons.
Here we have a young man just out for a drink with friends, completely unaware of his immediate future and then...this.
Out of nowhere his life and that of his family and friends, is shattered.
Towelheads! Why don't you just fuck off back to you own country. (In all fairness though, this sort of behaviour isn't exclusively the domain of Towelheads - more young men of any creed - a fact of which I've always been aware, from the first day I went to a bar).
However, in this case it WAS a Towelhead so...I stand by my contention to send hem back to their own country.
I truly, deeply hate people like this and given the chance would beat them to death. Tell me I'm wrong!
By 3 AM on the Saturday morning he was found unconscious on the street nearby. He was rushed to hospital where he slipped into a coma.
His parents flew him home to Ireland where he remains in the same condition. To the credit of his spirit, when his parents agreed to have the ventilator switched off, expecting him to pass away, he continued to breath on his own.
We can only hope.
A 20 year old Towelhead has been arrested and charged with attempted murder and faces other charges including robbery (the reason for the heinous attack). His skanky (probably Towelheaded as well) girlfriend has also been charged with hindering police and concealing a serious offence.
The police are searching for, and are confident of locating, a second man. No doubt another fuckin Towelhead.
This is why I don't go to bars - especially the notorious Coogee Bay Hotel which has a well-known shocking reputation for such acts of violence from its patrons.
Here we have a young man just out for a drink with friends, completely unaware of his immediate future and then...this.
Out of nowhere his life and that of his family and friends, is shattered.
Towelheads! Why don't you just fuck off back to you own country. (In all fairness though, this sort of behaviour isn't exclusively the domain of Towelheads - more young men of any creed - a fact of which I've always been aware, from the first day I went to a bar).
However, in this case it WAS a Towelhead so...I stand by my contention to send hem back to their own country.
I truly, deeply hate people like this and given the chance would beat them to death. Tell me I'm wrong!
THE WORDS THAT GAVE US THE MOST TROUBLE
A list of words that in a poll of 3000 people, they found the most difficult to pronounce (they couldn't spell them either).
Phenomenon,
Anaesthetist,
Remuneration,
Ethnicity,
Philosophical,
Provocatively,
Anonymous
Thesaurus
Aluminium
Regularly
February
Particularly
Prioritising
Pronunciation (yeah - seriously, and hilariously)
Prejudice
Facilitate
Hospitable
Onomatopoeia
Aside from the last one, these are not difficult words to either pronounce or spell. Now, being that I have had a reading age above my actual age since day one, one might argue it's easy for me to say but I would maintain that anyone with even a modicum of education wouldn't find these difficult, and it just illustrates the woeful state of the modern day education system. (Governments for years have been reducing the pass marks so they can boast about how many students are passing exams. The result? Well, see for yourself. A nation of clots while the powers that be congratulate themselves).
It's a worry - and bloody phone text is almost singly responsible. That and spellchecker on computers. I don't use it myself - I have it switched off - because I can spell - because I was taught when young.
I must add, however, that I'm not infallible and do on occasion let the odd one past the keeper as it were but...fuck it, I'll just blame this poxy blogger!
Phenomenon,
Anaesthetist,
Remuneration,
Ethnicity,
Philosophical,
Provocatively,
Anonymous
Thesaurus
Aluminium
Regularly
February
Particularly
Prioritising
Pronunciation (yeah - seriously, and hilariously)
Prejudice
Facilitate
Hospitable
Onomatopoeia
Aside from the last one, these are not difficult words to either pronounce or spell. Now, being that I have had a reading age above my actual age since day one, one might argue it's easy for me to say but I would maintain that anyone with even a modicum of education wouldn't find these difficult, and it just illustrates the woeful state of the modern day education system. (Governments for years have been reducing the pass marks so they can boast about how many students are passing exams. The result? Well, see for yourself. A nation of clots while the powers that be congratulate themselves).
It's a worry - and bloody phone text is almost singly responsible. That and spellchecker on computers. I don't use it myself - I have it switched off - because I can spell - because I was taught when young.
I must add, however, that I'm not infallible and do on occasion let the odd one past the keeper as it were but...fuck it, I'll just blame this poxy blogger!
WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED...?
Some...TWAT has recently come out and said - with a straight face it must be said - that fatties should be allowed to claim their obesity on Medicare. (Medicare is the public health system - funded by the taxpayer).
I've no idea who the twat is, and could care even less, frankly, other than to display my derision towards him/her. But once again we see shocking discrimination. Fat bastards, who cost billions to health systems the world over, are being treated with kid gloves. "Aww, the poor fatties - it's not their fault - they have an illness, they can't help it; we must help them".
Well I'll tell ye what - first let's help them GET THEIR FAT ARSES OFF THE SOFA AND AWAY FROM BUNS AND CAKES. Like a buddy of mine said a while ago when some fat chick claimed it, "was water retention" that caused her obesity.
"Water retention, eh? More like cake retention". Hahahahaha!!!
But seriously though; once again, a disease (of the mind - and voluntarily in my opinion) is being treated with sympathy while the poor, much maligned smoker (who in fact costs LESS by comparison) still has to put up with vilification and those deeply fuckin offensive images splattered all over the packets.
This is the definition of discrimination. I'm going to find me a sharp American lawyer (because this type of lawyer only exists in the good ole US) and sue the fuck out of the government.
I've had enough. And I'll say one more time - how can one facet of society be forced to endure such oppressive criticism, yet the other, which now surpasses the former in terms of costs - not to mention needing TWO seats on public transport (trains, buses, planes etc), doesn't?
Anyone? Can anyone at all out there explain this to me? (A rhetorical question of course because there simply is no explanation for discrimination).
Y'fat tubs of lard.
I've no idea who the twat is, and could care even less, frankly, other than to display my derision towards him/her. But once again we see shocking discrimination. Fat bastards, who cost billions to health systems the world over, are being treated with kid gloves. "Aww, the poor fatties - it's not their fault - they have an illness, they can't help it; we must help them".
Well I'll tell ye what - first let's help them GET THEIR FAT ARSES OFF THE SOFA AND AWAY FROM BUNS AND CAKES. Like a buddy of mine said a while ago when some fat chick claimed it, "was water retention" that caused her obesity.
"Water retention, eh? More like cake retention". Hahahahaha!!!
But seriously though; once again, a disease (of the mind - and voluntarily in my opinion) is being treated with sympathy while the poor, much maligned smoker (who in fact costs LESS by comparison) still has to put up with vilification and those deeply fuckin offensive images splattered all over the packets.
This is the definition of discrimination. I'm going to find me a sharp American lawyer (because this type of lawyer only exists in the good ole US) and sue the fuck out of the government.
I've had enough. And I'll say one more time - how can one facet of society be forced to endure such oppressive criticism, yet the other, which now surpasses the former in terms of costs - not to mention needing TWO seats on public transport (trains, buses, planes etc), doesn't?
Anyone? Can anyone at all out there explain this to me? (A rhetorical question of course because there simply is no explanation for discrimination).
Y'fat tubs of lard.
ONE IN FIVE UNFIT TO BE A PARENT, EXPERT SAYS.
This is the headline in an article in the Sunday Rag. And it refers to the claims of former Australian of the Year, Professor Fiona Stanley (Professor in what - talking shit??? An indication of the type of cretin chosen to be Australian of the Year. Tim Flannery was another one - he's a climate change freak).
She starts of well to be fair and frankly I agree - some people simply shouldn't be allowed to breed.
Stanley, an advisor to PM Kevin Rudd (another knucklehead who as it happens, in his short 6 month tenure as PM so far, has had 16 overseas trips while he rubs shoulders with the other world leaders - not to say HE in fact is a world leader), goes on to claim some parents lack the means or the life skills to adequately raise children.
So far so good, Fee.
But alas, it doesn't last. As she goes on to drop this spectacular clanger and with it, loses any semblance of credibility. You ready?
I quote:
"What we need is"...(brace yourself...) an AL GORE for child development".
Sweet Jesus.
Dear God.
In the name of...
Ms Stanley? Just keep your fuckin mouth shut love because if this is anything to go by you've got fuck all worth hearing!
Expert my DICK!!!!!
She starts of well to be fair and frankly I agree - some people simply shouldn't be allowed to breed.
Stanley, an advisor to PM Kevin Rudd (another knucklehead who as it happens, in his short 6 month tenure as PM so far, has had 16 overseas trips while he rubs shoulders with the other world leaders - not to say HE in fact is a world leader), goes on to claim some parents lack the means or the life skills to adequately raise children.
So far so good, Fee.
But alas, it doesn't last. As she goes on to drop this spectacular clanger and with it, loses any semblance of credibility. You ready?
I quote:
"What we need is"...(brace yourself...) an AL GORE for child development".
Sweet Jesus.
Dear God.
In the name of...
Ms Stanley? Just keep your fuckin mouth shut love because if this is anything to go by you've got fuck all worth hearing!
Expert my DICK!!!!!
Thursday, September 25, 2008
WOW - -HOW MUCH???
America's deficit, it's recently been reported, is 11.3 trillion.
A staggering amount and as I started to write this, it just occurred to me that figures are becoming so immense in the modern day that "new" names for such amounts are being created - custom money, if y'like. Nothing has been seen before; amounts are becoming so vast that we no longer have established names for them. We must surely be approaching "gazillion". Or the hysterical, "brazillion" from the Bush joke, Three Brazillian soldiers have been killed, oh my God, how many's three brazillion!)
Setting the funnies aside, to try to add some perspective, 11.3 trillion is 11 thousand, three hundred separate piles of a billion dollars. Remember when a billion seemed to be a fantastic amount? (To add a little more perspective: 5 figures is a large amount to the majority - though admittedly less so than say three decades ago, which further supports the point. US deficit is...shit, hang on, I'll have to write this one down! Fourteen figures - in debt).
Money has become this monster after which we all crave; it is in fact our existence. Without it one can simply, not exist.
And now, in the midst of the recent financial instability, those with it are in large part, panicking - scrabbling to hold on to what they have.
The huge majority of individual homeowners who have lost said homes pale into a long-forgotten insignificance beside the recent collapse of massive mortgage houses whose disintegration has freaked out governments the world over - not less so the mighty US who've had to bale out several of them - at a cost of 700 billion.
(The government in fact are hoping it's an investment as traditionally the housing market has always bounced back so they are banking on -heh heh, pun IS intended - the market recovering and they making huge profits. Only time will tell. But keeping in mind this deficit, and the continuing amounts they are sinking into the Middle East, this move could be the definition of "sailing close to the wind".
Interesting times ahead.
A staggering amount and as I started to write this, it just occurred to me that figures are becoming so immense in the modern day that "new" names for such amounts are being created - custom money, if y'like. Nothing has been seen before; amounts are becoming so vast that we no longer have established names for them. We must surely be approaching "gazillion". Or the hysterical, "brazillion" from the Bush joke, Three Brazillian soldiers have been killed, oh my God, how many's three brazillion!)
Setting the funnies aside, to try to add some perspective, 11.3 trillion is 11 thousand, three hundred separate piles of a billion dollars. Remember when a billion seemed to be a fantastic amount? (To add a little more perspective: 5 figures is a large amount to the majority - though admittedly less so than say three decades ago, which further supports the point. US deficit is...shit, hang on, I'll have to write this one down! Fourteen figures - in debt).
Money has become this monster after which we all crave; it is in fact our existence. Without it one can simply, not exist.
And now, in the midst of the recent financial instability, those with it are in large part, panicking - scrabbling to hold on to what they have.
The huge majority of individual homeowners who have lost said homes pale into a long-forgotten insignificance beside the recent collapse of massive mortgage houses whose disintegration has freaked out governments the world over - not less so the mighty US who've had to bale out several of them - at a cost of 700 billion.
(The government in fact are hoping it's an investment as traditionally the housing market has always bounced back so they are banking on -heh heh, pun IS intended - the market recovering and they making huge profits. Only time will tell. But keeping in mind this deficit, and the continuing amounts they are sinking into the Middle East, this move could be the definition of "sailing close to the wind".
Interesting times ahead.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
RIP RICK WRIGHT
Rick Wright, for those not in the know, (shame, shame, shame on you!) was the keyboard player for Pink Floyd. He died aged 65 from an undisclosed cancer.
Wright was the creator of the sublime intro to "Shine on You Crazy Diamond" (a touching lament for the founder member of "The Pink Floyd Sound" as it was known in 1965, Syd Barrett. Syd's erratic behaviour saw him replaced eventually with David Gilmour).
He also wrote "Us and Them", another classic from the equally sublime and world famous Dark Side of the Moon. This album often tops the list of world's best albums - and rightly so (no pun intended).
Wright and another member, Roger Waters had what best can be described as a turbulent relationship which eventually led to Wright being forced to resign from he band during the recording of 1979's The Wall.
Just after recording The Final Cut, Waters declared Pink Floyd, "a spent force" and left himself - and subsequently sued he rest of the band over rights to the name. Eventually he lost that fight.
Interesting sidebar: during their concerts, they often used these two enormous dirigibles in the shape of pigs that would float above the stage connected by cables (the same pig can be seen on the cover of their "Animals" album floating above London's Battersea Park. Hilariously, at one point one of the cables snapped and this massive "balloon" floated off across London and had to be shot down by the police).
Waters declared that they could no longer use these beasts either. So the rest of the band got round this by castrating the pigs. Y'see, they had been male - the rest of the band considered that if they cut the nads off them then they wouldn't be the same - exactly - hence hey could continue to use them.
Said David Gilmour of his long time friend:
"No one can replace Richard Wright. He was my musical partner and my friend. In the welter of arguments about who or what was Pink Floyd, Rick's enormous input was frequently forgotten. He was gentle, unassuming and private but his soulful voice and playing were vital, magical components of our most recognised Pink Floyd sound. I have never played with anyone quite like him. The blend of his and my voices and our musical telepathy reached their first major flowering in 1971 on 'Echoes'. In my view all the greatest PF moments are the ones where he is in full flow. After all, without 'Us and Them' and 'The Great Gig In The Sky', both of which he wrote, what would 'The Dark Side Of The Moon' have been? Without his quiet touch the Album 'Wish You Were Here' would not quite have worked. In our middle years, for many reasons he lost his way for a while, but in the early Nineties, with 'The Division Bell', his vitality, spark and humour returned to him and then the audience reaction to his appearances on my tour in 2006 was hugely uplifting and it's a mark of his modesty that those standing ovations came as a huge surprise to him, (though not to the rest of us). Like Rick, I don't find it easy to express my feelings in words, but I loved him and will miss him enormously".
Anyway, RIP Rick, your legacy will live on for years to come.
Wright was the creator of the sublime intro to "Shine on You Crazy Diamond" (a touching lament for the founder member of "The Pink Floyd Sound" as it was known in 1965, Syd Barrett. Syd's erratic behaviour saw him replaced eventually with David Gilmour).
He also wrote "Us and Them", another classic from the equally sublime and world famous Dark Side of the Moon. This album often tops the list of world's best albums - and rightly so (no pun intended).
Wright and another member, Roger Waters had what best can be described as a turbulent relationship which eventually led to Wright being forced to resign from he band during the recording of 1979's The Wall.
Just after recording The Final Cut, Waters declared Pink Floyd, "a spent force" and left himself - and subsequently sued he rest of the band over rights to the name. Eventually he lost that fight.
Interesting sidebar: during their concerts, they often used these two enormous dirigibles in the shape of pigs that would float above the stage connected by cables (the same pig can be seen on the cover of their "Animals" album floating above London's Battersea Park. Hilariously, at one point one of the cables snapped and this massive "balloon" floated off across London and had to be shot down by the police).
Waters declared that they could no longer use these beasts either. So the rest of the band got round this by castrating the pigs. Y'see, they had been male - the rest of the band considered that if they cut the nads off them then they wouldn't be the same - exactly - hence hey could continue to use them.
Said David Gilmour of his long time friend:
"No one can replace Richard Wright. He was my musical partner and my friend. In the welter of arguments about who or what was Pink Floyd, Rick's enormous input was frequently forgotten. He was gentle, unassuming and private but his soulful voice and playing were vital, magical components of our most recognised Pink Floyd sound. I have never played with anyone quite like him. The blend of his and my voices and our musical telepathy reached their first major flowering in 1971 on 'Echoes'. In my view all the greatest PF moments are the ones where he is in full flow. After all, without 'Us and Them' and 'The Great Gig In The Sky', both of which he wrote, what would 'The Dark Side Of The Moon' have been? Without his quiet touch the Album 'Wish You Were Here' would not quite have worked. In our middle years, for many reasons he lost his way for a while, but in the early Nineties, with 'The Division Bell', his vitality, spark and humour returned to him and then the audience reaction to his appearances on my tour in 2006 was hugely uplifting and it's a mark of his modesty that those standing ovations came as a huge surprise to him, (though not to the rest of us). Like Rick, I don't find it easy to express my feelings in words, but I loved him and will miss him enormously".
Anyway, RIP Rick, your legacy will live on for years to come.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
NEWS IN BRIEF - - SUNDAY 21ST SEPTEMBER
I'll start with an exasperated sigh as I open the "Body and Soul" section to see a double page spread reporting on our need to "rethink our relationship with the sun's rays".
After years and years of the "slip, slop, slap" campaign to encourage people (morons) to put on sunscreen, hats and sunnies, we are now told, "hang on - maybe we were a bit too hasty with that".
Quelle surprise.
Dr Muttars has written about this before; that a body needs the suns rays as it's the primary source of vitamin D, and to completely isolate oneself from such a source will inevitably lead to problems in the future - hence this article - and its claim of increased reports of vitamin deficiency.
The headline concerns the NSW Premier Nathan Rees being told not to ask questions of his boss at the time, Milton Orkopolous, the child sex offender, if he wanted any kind of political future. Political expedience at its most insidious.
Page 8 has a report about child snatch cases; they seem to be on the increase which is a worry. Around 20 cases of attempted abduction have been reported in the last fortnight. Disturbing, (yet relieving to me at least that I don't have children).
On the opposite page is a picture of the dopey bint, Kate Milligan, she of the "glass in face" episode. And a report of the Police's dismay at Ms Milligan's refusal to cooperate with them regarding the case. They say the case is in danger of collapse because the woman would prefer to talk to the media rather than them. The accompanying picture of Ms Milligan shows the scar; admittedly it's not an enormous scar but that's hardly the point is it?
So yet another violent offender gets off scott free because of a weak woman.
A double spread on 14/15 reports on "The MOTHER OF ALL BAILOUTS". This concerns the one trillion rescue package from the Bush government for the shaky financial markets in the US. This on top of the 500 billion the Iraq/Afghanistan war has cost so far (with more - oh so much more - to come).
Not to be alarmist but this could be the beginning of the end for the mighty US. Although it may seem so, America's coffers are not a bottomless pit.
Page 30 has a report, again echoing what I have written many times in the past. That junk food should be treated as just as dangerous as cigarettes. They don't actually go as far as claiming that (because the editor wouldn't allow it - because he has to cater to the anti-smoking lobby - and politicians - and bleeding hearts - and ALL the rest) but the intimation is the same. That being that burgers, fries, chocolate et al are every bit as dangerous when overindulged, as tobacco (more so in fact - obesity is now a bigger killer than tobacco - and it costs health systems the world over, more. More exasperation from yours truly as I've been saying this for years...).
Page 33 carries a small piece about the injuries being experienced by parachutists in the Australian army. Some blah, blah, blah that ends with, "Military parachuting, as with civilian, is inherently risky. Which is why a reserve chute is carried".
I have skydived (skydove...?) about 200 times and frankly can't understand how people die doing it. If one packs one's chute correctly - which is quite simple actually - there is no reason why it won't deploy - as mine did every time of the 200 so...go figure, I think's the term.
34 and 35 have a report from a female cop whining on about how awful it was to have been attacked. Yeah, boohoo love - if you can't hack it get another job then - you're meant to be a tough police officer - not a baby! Join the ranks of something like 45% of cops who are currently on leave for "counselling" because they saw something "scary" or "upsetting". What...the fuck...happened to tough policemen? Keep bloody women off the front line for a start. How the hell can a five foot nothing female restrain an over six foot nutter? Answer: she can't. Nuff said there.
Next we have an article entitled, "What gives us stress?". The NRMA (a motoring organisation, strangely enough...) has conducted a study asking the question.
Smelly people,
Unstocked supermarket shelves,
The office know-it-all,
...are some of the top offenders.
I don't work in an office; supermarket shelves, stocked or otherwise, don't bother me, but don't get me started on stinking, smelly, unwashed and apparently unaware of a marvellous invention called soap and fucking water, mingers. It's the main reaon why I don't take public transport.
Page 39:
Ur kids r L8 4 skool.
With the subheading: Schools go high tech. It's a story about schools texting parent if their kids don't turn up for school. Dear God! High tech? Have you read the line. More like dumbed down if you ask me - and from a school too. Methinks here we have the answer as to why students are failing miserably at English.
But let's just consider this for a second. Someone's brat doesn't turn up so you send a text. Are you telling me that you life is so incredibly hectic that you can't even text, "Your kids are late for school"? Seriously? You're sooo busy you have to resort to this...this...abomination of English. Shame on you teacher/principal and if this is how you're going to act then you can kiss goodbye to any more money or holidays!
And staggeringly I just noticed on the same page, slightly lower, a small article concerning teachers "plea for funding". Gadzooks!!!
In world news, Tony Blair, the ex-British Prime Minister, is at the prestigious Yale University in the US. Preaching his message of faith to the Ivy-League students. Which faith?
Fuckin PAPISM!!!!! I'd prefer he preached Islam, frankly.
Russians attack Rice:
...Is the headline on 44. Condoleeza Rice, the American Secretary of State, gave a speech in Washington, claiming the Russians "had gone too far in Georgia, was taking a dark turn towards authoritarianism, and was on a one-way path to self-imposed isolation and international irrelevance".
Don't hold back Condo.
Russia replied with, "this is not the first time that representatives of the US government have grossly distorted the events by Georgian aggression against South Ossetia".
Looks like the fox, Sarah Palin could be right.
Politics, politics, politics...a bit about Sean Connery and how success put him under huge pressure (boohoo Sean - my heart bleeds!) cartoons and the pretty people at parties.
That's the Sunday Rag for this week, folks.
After years and years of the "slip, slop, slap" campaign to encourage people (morons) to put on sunscreen, hats and sunnies, we are now told, "hang on - maybe we were a bit too hasty with that".
Quelle surprise.
Dr Muttars has written about this before; that a body needs the suns rays as it's the primary source of vitamin D, and to completely isolate oneself from such a source will inevitably lead to problems in the future - hence this article - and its claim of increased reports of vitamin deficiency.
The headline concerns the NSW Premier Nathan Rees being told not to ask questions of his boss at the time, Milton Orkopolous, the child sex offender, if he wanted any kind of political future. Political expedience at its most insidious.
Page 8 has a report about child snatch cases; they seem to be on the increase which is a worry. Around 20 cases of attempted abduction have been reported in the last fortnight. Disturbing, (yet relieving to me at least that I don't have children).
On the opposite page is a picture of the dopey bint, Kate Milligan, she of the "glass in face" episode. And a report of the Police's dismay at Ms Milligan's refusal to cooperate with them regarding the case. They say the case is in danger of collapse because the woman would prefer to talk to the media rather than them. The accompanying picture of Ms Milligan shows the scar; admittedly it's not an enormous scar but that's hardly the point is it?
So yet another violent offender gets off scott free because of a weak woman.
A double spread on 14/15 reports on "The MOTHER OF ALL BAILOUTS". This concerns the one trillion rescue package from the Bush government for the shaky financial markets in the US. This on top of the 500 billion the Iraq/Afghanistan war has cost so far (with more - oh so much more - to come).
Not to be alarmist but this could be the beginning of the end for the mighty US. Although it may seem so, America's coffers are not a bottomless pit.
Page 30 has a report, again echoing what I have written many times in the past. That junk food should be treated as just as dangerous as cigarettes. They don't actually go as far as claiming that (because the editor wouldn't allow it - because he has to cater to the anti-smoking lobby - and politicians - and bleeding hearts - and ALL the rest) but the intimation is the same. That being that burgers, fries, chocolate et al are every bit as dangerous when overindulged, as tobacco (more so in fact - obesity is now a bigger killer than tobacco - and it costs health systems the world over, more. More exasperation from yours truly as I've been saying this for years...).
Page 33 carries a small piece about the injuries being experienced by parachutists in the Australian army. Some blah, blah, blah that ends with, "Military parachuting, as with civilian, is inherently risky. Which is why a reserve chute is carried".
I have skydived (skydove...?) about 200 times and frankly can't understand how people die doing it. If one packs one's chute correctly - which is quite simple actually - there is no reason why it won't deploy - as mine did every time of the 200 so...go figure, I think's the term.
34 and 35 have a report from a female cop whining on about how awful it was to have been attacked. Yeah, boohoo love - if you can't hack it get another job then - you're meant to be a tough police officer - not a baby! Join the ranks of something like 45% of cops who are currently on leave for "counselling" because they saw something "scary" or "upsetting". What...the fuck...happened to tough policemen? Keep bloody women off the front line for a start. How the hell can a five foot nothing female restrain an over six foot nutter? Answer: she can't. Nuff said there.
Next we have an article entitled, "What gives us stress?". The NRMA (a motoring organisation, strangely enough...) has conducted a study asking the question.
Smelly people,
Unstocked supermarket shelves,
The office know-it-all,
...are some of the top offenders.
I don't work in an office; supermarket shelves, stocked or otherwise, don't bother me, but don't get me started on stinking, smelly, unwashed and apparently unaware of a marvellous invention called soap and fucking water, mingers. It's the main reaon why I don't take public transport.
Page 39:
Ur kids r L8 4 skool.
With the subheading: Schools go high tech. It's a story about schools texting parent if their kids don't turn up for school. Dear God! High tech? Have you read the line. More like dumbed down if you ask me - and from a school too. Methinks here we have the answer as to why students are failing miserably at English.
But let's just consider this for a second. Someone's brat doesn't turn up so you send a text. Are you telling me that you life is so incredibly hectic that you can't even text, "Your kids are late for school"? Seriously? You're sooo busy you have to resort to this...this...abomination of English. Shame on you teacher/principal and if this is how you're going to act then you can kiss goodbye to any more money or holidays!
And staggeringly I just noticed on the same page, slightly lower, a small article concerning teachers "plea for funding". Gadzooks!!!
In world news, Tony Blair, the ex-British Prime Minister, is at the prestigious Yale University in the US. Preaching his message of faith to the Ivy-League students. Which faith?
Fuckin PAPISM!!!!! I'd prefer he preached Islam, frankly.
Russians attack Rice:
...Is the headline on 44. Condoleeza Rice, the American Secretary of State, gave a speech in Washington, claiming the Russians "had gone too far in Georgia, was taking a dark turn towards authoritarianism, and was on a one-way path to self-imposed isolation and international irrelevance".
Don't hold back Condo.
Russia replied with, "this is not the first time that representatives of the US government have grossly distorted the events by Georgian aggression against South Ossetia".
Looks like the fox, Sarah Palin could be right.
Politics, politics, politics...a bit about Sean Connery and how success put him under huge pressure (boohoo Sean - my heart bleeds!) cartoons and the pretty people at parties.
That's the Sunday Rag for this week, folks.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
KATIE TELLS ALL...
In a headline in the Saturday Rag that's sure to infuriate all previous victims of domestic violence, Katie Milligan, the abused girlfriend of Greg Bird, claims, "My Greg would never hurt me".
My first thought was, if this isn't hurting her I'd hate to see what would be. Remember, this man (loosely speaking of course) smashed a glass in the girl's face causing severe lacerations. And if this isn't "hurting", what's left - murder?
Yet in the words of Dolly Parton, she's "standing by her man".
Brings a whole new meaning to love hurts eh?
My first thought was, if this isn't hurting her I'd hate to see what would be. Remember, this man (loosely speaking of course) smashed a glass in the girl's face causing severe lacerations. And if this isn't "hurting", what's left - murder?
Yet in the words of Dolly Parton, she's "standing by her man".
Brings a whole new meaning to love hurts eh?
Sunday, September 14, 2008
NEWS IN BRIEF
Source: The Sunday Rag.
The front page carries the headline "POLL-AXED" and refers to the beating Labor has taken at the recent council elections. All as a result of Iemma and his co-conspirators' incompetence. (To be fair though, whilst absolving none of the blame, they were handed a bag of shit from... ...fucking Bob fucking Carr, that...fuck!!! Another Labor man.).
It's joined with a picture of Liz Kemp with her son. She is the (now) separated wife of "held in God-like status" Brett Lee, the idolized cricketer. Page three in fact has an almost full page spread of her enjoying more time with the kid.
Which is exactly what she accused Lee of doing yesterday. So, they both seem to be exploiting their parenting to the max.
Dirty, nasty stuff.
Anyway, boohoo, the rich and their "woe is me", "life's so hard", self obsession.
Stop it - you'll have me cryin into my yellow pack cornflakes!
Next two pages - politics. Snoozeville.
Next two ads and more politics, focussing this time on Reba Meagher, the ex-Health Minister - a truly woeful one.
So it's page nine before we get to anything worth caring about. A picture of a Great Dane standing over a Chihuahua and a story about "most destructive" dog breeds. This story will rely purely on statistical information and therefore flawed, but with the cutsey story about Rottweillers and their $3300 vases. Nevertheless it still beats politics! And let me add something here; one is more likely to be bitten or acted aggressively towards by the Chihuahua than the much larger dog. Fact.
Oh God. Page 13 has a story about Bob Irwin, the son off the late Steve who was tragically killed by a stingray barb in some paradise somewhere while filming his latest show. I think he actually was a decent sorta Joe and am certain he'd be turning in his grave at some of the exploits of his capitalistic wife, Terri.
Just as we're getting over the sickening overexposure of the pig-tailed Bindi, Bob's sister, now Bob is set to have his own show.
Next we have a double page of the Packers new 3.7 million dollar pool. Yep, you heard right - just the pool. The Packers are Australia's richest family. The patriarch, (Kerry - bit of a girly name) is dead; Jamie the son is now in charge. A shockingly unattractive man, just quietly, yet with a hot wife.
Oh oh. Page 17 carries a bit about the Papists and how they're being held responsible for the flu that currently seems to be affecting the general population. "Pilgrims" from 100 different countries, it seems, were a bit manky, bringing their diseases with them. You are well aware of my opinion of these people. And yes, by "these" I mean Papists!
The opposite page offers me my "last chance" to join the Fun Run. Yeah righto, where can I put my chair?
The teachers are planning a day of action. Because of the new "staff-transfer" system which allows for Principals to have ultimate control over hiring of new staff. As sympathetic as I am I can't get over the two months annual holidays, frankly.
A bit about Teens raiding their parents' pill closets for the hit is in there. No real biggie - kids have been ingesting powder and pills for decades. The much larger concern is still the piss.
America's getting whalloped by yet another hurricane. Dubbed "Ike", this one is similar in power to the famous Katrina. That makes four. Poor bastards.
A bit about Sarah Palin, the running mate of John McCain, who recently claimed America should consider going to war with Russia over the Georgian affair. She claims it's inevitable.
I think she's a fox.
And that's about it. Politics fills the rest of the Rag, then the comics and pictures of the beautiful at parties.
The front page carries the headline "POLL-AXED" and refers to the beating Labor has taken at the recent council elections. All as a result of Iemma and his co-conspirators' incompetence. (To be fair though, whilst absolving none of the blame, they were handed a bag of shit from... ...fucking Bob fucking Carr, that...fuck!!! Another Labor man.).
It's joined with a picture of Liz Kemp with her son. She is the (now) separated wife of "held in God-like status" Brett Lee, the idolized cricketer. Page three in fact has an almost full page spread of her enjoying more time with the kid.
Which is exactly what she accused Lee of doing yesterday. So, they both seem to be exploiting their parenting to the max.
Dirty, nasty stuff.
Anyway, boohoo, the rich and their "woe is me", "life's so hard", self obsession.
Stop it - you'll have me cryin into my yellow pack cornflakes!
Next two pages - politics. Snoozeville.
Next two ads and more politics, focussing this time on Reba Meagher, the ex-Health Minister - a truly woeful one.
So it's page nine before we get to anything worth caring about. A picture of a Great Dane standing over a Chihuahua and a story about "most destructive" dog breeds. This story will rely purely on statistical information and therefore flawed, but with the cutsey story about Rottweillers and their $3300 vases. Nevertheless it still beats politics! And let me add something here; one is more likely to be bitten or acted aggressively towards by the Chihuahua than the much larger dog. Fact.
Oh God. Page 13 has a story about Bob Irwin, the son off the late Steve who was tragically killed by a stingray barb in some paradise somewhere while filming his latest show. I think he actually was a decent sorta Joe and am certain he'd be turning in his grave at some of the exploits of his capitalistic wife, Terri.
Just as we're getting over the sickening overexposure of the pig-tailed Bindi, Bob's sister, now Bob is set to have his own show.
Next we have a double page of the Packers new 3.7 million dollar pool. Yep, you heard right - just the pool. The Packers are Australia's richest family. The patriarch, (Kerry - bit of a girly name) is dead; Jamie the son is now in charge. A shockingly unattractive man, just quietly, yet with a hot wife.
Oh oh. Page 17 carries a bit about the Papists and how they're being held responsible for the flu that currently seems to be affecting the general population. "Pilgrims" from 100 different countries, it seems, were a bit manky, bringing their diseases with them. You are well aware of my opinion of these people. And yes, by "these" I mean Papists!
The opposite page offers me my "last chance" to join the Fun Run. Yeah righto, where can I put my chair?
The teachers are planning a day of action. Because of the new "staff-transfer" system which allows for Principals to have ultimate control over hiring of new staff. As sympathetic as I am I can't get over the two months annual holidays, frankly.
A bit about Teens raiding their parents' pill closets for the hit is in there. No real biggie - kids have been ingesting powder and pills for decades. The much larger concern is still the piss.
America's getting whalloped by yet another hurricane. Dubbed "Ike", this one is similar in power to the famous Katrina. That makes four. Poor bastards.
A bit about Sarah Palin, the running mate of John McCain, who recently claimed America should consider going to war with Russia over the Georgian affair. She claims it's inevitable.
I think she's a fox.
And that's about it. Politics fills the rest of the Rag, then the comics and pictures of the beautiful at parties.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
I SHOULD BE HAPPY...
...but I'm not...well, I'm thrilled that Morris "the Fuckwit" Iemma and his band of merry incompetents, "Dr. Evil', the slap-headed Michael Costa, and Reba Meagher, the disastrous health minister, have been ousted, but such thrill is marred somewhat by the knowledge these cretins who almost single-handedly destroyed NSW's economy will leave with a 180,000 or so a year publicly funded pension - for life.
These morons should be forced to get a real job and pay their own way.
So we now have a new premier, who has ascended to the position by virtue of Iemma's sacking/resignation (he jumped after being told he would be pushed).
Some ex-garbo called Nathan Rees. In a poll, 50% had never heard of him, 30% thought he was a labour backbencher (which he is), 19 thought weatherman, and 1, an AFL star.
He in fact was a senior staffer to Milton...Akapocolis (or something like that) who recently has been jailed after being found guilty of child sex charges. (Rees denies any knowledge of it - he would wouldn't he).
Front page of the Saturday Rag sees him claim with gusto, that he wanted to have "a red hot go" at fixing the State's financial issues.
Well, Mr Rees, what if you're red hot go isn't enough? Iemma said much the same thing. In fact it was his catchcry for re-election. "There's more to do - but we're heading in the right direction". (The dead from the neck up majority believed him and re-elected the cretin. Now look where we are).
So do we now just wait to see if this similarly risen to power nobody by virtue of a resigned Premier can fulfill his hastily uttered promises?
If this one's anything like Iemma, then the State will be bankrupt in just a few years.
Christ help us then.
These morons should be forced to get a real job and pay their own way.
So we now have a new premier, who has ascended to the position by virtue of Iemma's sacking/resignation (he jumped after being told he would be pushed).
Some ex-garbo called Nathan Rees. In a poll, 50% had never heard of him, 30% thought he was a labour backbencher (which he is), 19 thought weatherman, and 1, an AFL star.
He in fact was a senior staffer to Milton...Akapocolis (or something like that) who recently has been jailed after being found guilty of child sex charges. (Rees denies any knowledge of it - he would wouldn't he).
Front page of the Saturday Rag sees him claim with gusto, that he wanted to have "a red hot go" at fixing the State's financial issues.
Well, Mr Rees, what if you're red hot go isn't enough? Iemma said much the same thing. In fact it was his catchcry for re-election. "There's more to do - but we're heading in the right direction". (The dead from the neck up majority believed him and re-elected the cretin. Now look where we are).
So do we now just wait to see if this similarly risen to power nobody by virtue of a resigned Premier can fulfill his hastily uttered promises?
If this one's anything like Iemma, then the State will be bankrupt in just a few years.
Christ help us then.
ME, THE CARPET RAT AND THE BOYS #2
In the history of stupid dogs, this carpet rat must be king. Again it came scampering out of its garden, barking and carrying on like it's demented...and whether Scoob was the preordained target or just the closest, it went straight for him.
(Hellooo...little doggie...haven't we been here before? Remember? You shat yourself and ran away?)
This time Scoob defined cool. He dropped his head, growled from somewhere deep in his gut, and almost tediously chased the rat back into its garden. Sortof, "go away little dog - you're bothering me!"
New sheriff y'see.
(Hellooo...little doggie...haven't we been here before? Remember? You shat yourself and ran away?)
This time Scoob defined cool. He dropped his head, growled from somewhere deep in his gut, and almost tediously chased the rat back into its garden. Sortof, "go away little dog - you're bothering me!"
New sheriff y'see.
Friday, September 05, 2008
TITS AND ASS
It's the rating season on TV and the commercial channels have released their best offerings ("best" being relative of course).
Channel Nine's "best" is a show called The Strip and it concerns a bunch of pretty people solving crimes on the Gold Coast (Australia's equivalent to Venice Beach) and announced by a menacingly deep-voiced voice-over man in an attempt to convey the importance of the show.
It's been being advertised with that most popular of ways, the slow motion walk. The pretty ones strolling with purpose along the Coast's golden sands. Handsome men, pretty women with a body of a honey in the foreground (more tits).
I was at a colleague's house and happened to see a few minutes of the programme, hence the "tits and ass" heading for the post. Because really, that's all it is and what the producers are counting on to attract viewers - who'll be predominately men.
Take away the half-naked people and it's a mediocre show (even with the half-naked people it's still mediocre, frankly).
Compare this drivel with a re-runned show on Channel Two by the name of Wildside. This is also a cop show (from the 90's) based in Sydney's underbelly - gritty, dark, with great writing and quality actors who, whilst they're not hideous, cannot be described as pretty.
No beaches or colourful attire; just a dark, brooding snapshot of the underworld of Australia's premier city.
With great storylines and engaging characters. Top stuff.
Channel Nine's "best" is a show called The Strip and it concerns a bunch of pretty people solving crimes on the Gold Coast (Australia's equivalent to Venice Beach) and announced by a menacingly deep-voiced voice-over man in an attempt to convey the importance of the show.
It's been being advertised with that most popular of ways, the slow motion walk. The pretty ones strolling with purpose along the Coast's golden sands. Handsome men, pretty women with a body of a honey in the foreground (more tits).
I was at a colleague's house and happened to see a few minutes of the programme, hence the "tits and ass" heading for the post. Because really, that's all it is and what the producers are counting on to attract viewers - who'll be predominately men.
Take away the half-naked people and it's a mediocre show (even with the half-naked people it's still mediocre, frankly).
Compare this drivel with a re-runned show on Channel Two by the name of Wildside. This is also a cop show (from the 90's) based in Sydney's underbelly - gritty, dark, with great writing and quality actors who, whilst they're not hideous, cannot be described as pretty.
No beaches or colourful attire; just a dark, brooding snapshot of the underworld of Australia's premier city.
With great storylines and engaging characters. Top stuff.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
AND AGAIN...
I don't know if you're tired of hearing about it. For sure I'm getting tired writing about it.
What? You ask.
Sexual abuse by the papists.
This time it involves a 65 year old former priest of St Stanislaus College in Bathurst, west of Sydney, among others. The papist faces 33 charges of "sexual assault and gross acts of indecency on juveniles aged between 10 and 18".
It also transpires that one of the accused (it's not clear whether it's this priest or another) was a chaperone during the World Youth Day celebrations. Kinda cheapens it a bit really. I mean, here we are, meant to be celebrating all things Christian and at least one of the "leaders" is a sexual abuser.
When the fuck are you catholics going to do something about your sick masters? Or maybe that's how all papists get their jollies. Maybe you secretly like it. Maybe that's why you've embraced the faith - for the better sex life, whether your victim wants it or not.
Tell you what, shall we just sweep it under the carpet? As per usual? Shall we just continue to ignore your papist priests' indiscretions?
Or...maybe...nah, dumb idea. No wait, let's call them to account. Let's not just ignore it and treat the papist master in the funny hat like he's God's right hand man (which he's not, in fact). Let's take the awesome power away from the papists and make them pay for their paedophile priests. Let's get the fuckin pope to answer for the years of abuse - and when I say answer, I don't mean a stuttered apology. We don't want your fuckin apology, papist, we want you to stop your fuckin priests (no pun intended) buggering and raping young boys.
Again and again, we hear of yet another sicko priest touching up young boys while he rubs himself hard.
Catholics. This is your fault - all of you. You alone are responsible and only you can stop it. Don't you want to? Do you secretly condone it?
With your Hail Mary's and your bloody beads. Christ! Have a look at what you believe in for God's sake.
What? You ask.
Sexual abuse by the papists.
This time it involves a 65 year old former priest of St Stanislaus College in Bathurst, west of Sydney, among others. The papist faces 33 charges of "sexual assault and gross acts of indecency on juveniles aged between 10 and 18".
It also transpires that one of the accused (it's not clear whether it's this priest or another) was a chaperone during the World Youth Day celebrations. Kinda cheapens it a bit really. I mean, here we are, meant to be celebrating all things Christian and at least one of the "leaders" is a sexual abuser.
When the fuck are you catholics going to do something about your sick masters? Or maybe that's how all papists get their jollies. Maybe you secretly like it. Maybe that's why you've embraced the faith - for the better sex life, whether your victim wants it or not.
Tell you what, shall we just sweep it under the carpet? As per usual? Shall we just continue to ignore your papist priests' indiscretions?
Or...maybe...nah, dumb idea. No wait, let's call them to account. Let's not just ignore it and treat the papist master in the funny hat like he's God's right hand man (which he's not, in fact). Let's take the awesome power away from the papists and make them pay for their paedophile priests. Let's get the fuckin pope to answer for the years of abuse - and when I say answer, I don't mean a stuttered apology. We don't want your fuckin apology, papist, we want you to stop your fuckin priests (no pun intended) buggering and raping young boys.
Again and again, we hear of yet another sicko priest touching up young boys while he rubs himself hard.
Catholics. This is your fault - all of you. You alone are responsible and only you can stop it. Don't you want to? Do you secretly condone it?
With your Hail Mary's and your bloody beads. Christ! Have a look at what you believe in for God's sake.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
ME, THE CARPET RAT AND THE BOYS
I was asked a while back if my Boys would defend me should I ever be set upon by someone. At the time I replied that I didn't know because, well, I've never BEEN set upon by someone.
That changed yesterday; except it wasn't someONE as much as someTHING. You'll remember the carpet rat that Scoob chased a short while ago? Well, the wee bastard came running out of its garden yapping away as per usual. And as per usual I, and the Boys, ignored it as a mere nuisance.
However, this time it ran up behind me (as all cowards do) and took a chunk out of the back of my leg (wee...fucker). It didn't hurt, nor really bothered me that much.
But my Boys leapt to my defence, immediately racing after the rat which proceeded to yelp like a wee girl and take off back to the safety of mummy.
So in answer to the question - yep, the Boys will defend me.
Go Boys!
That changed yesterday; except it wasn't someONE as much as someTHING. You'll remember the carpet rat that Scoob chased a short while ago? Well, the wee bastard came running out of its garden yapping away as per usual. And as per usual I, and the Boys, ignored it as a mere nuisance.
However, this time it ran up behind me (as all cowards do) and took a chunk out of the back of my leg (wee...fucker). It didn't hurt, nor really bothered me that much.
But my Boys leapt to my defence, immediately racing after the rat which proceeded to yelp like a wee girl and take off back to the safety of mummy.
So in answer to the question - yep, the Boys will defend me.
Go Boys!
DIRTY DOG
Just recently, Australian soldiers in Afghanistan captured four Taliban fighters. Once captured and therefore prisoners of war, they had to be sequestered somewhere to prevent them being any more trouble.
And the only place at hand (they're in the desert remember) was several pens, that had reportedly been used to house dogs of some kind previously (attack, guard, something like that).
So in the Taliban fighters went. End of story. Move on to the next engagement.
Well not quite. Turns out the Afghan league, or society or Towelhead incorporated or something, in Australia are up in arms because their Muslim buddies were caged in a dog pen. They claim cultural insensitivity. Tch! Poppycock! More of this PC bollocks.
Y'see, apparently the Towelheads think dogs are "dirty" creatures. In fact, they aren't allowed in "living" areas of humans. (Which, frankly, is rich coming from those sandal-wearing, skirt-wearing, bearded, unwashed dirtbags).
Well I've news for you, Towelheads - this is a war - and many would say you lot started it so suck it up. (Of course, a fair few would say you just reacted but that's for another day...).
Bottom line: I'll take a dog over a Towelhead any day of the week!
And the only place at hand (they're in the desert remember) was several pens, that had reportedly been used to house dogs of some kind previously (attack, guard, something like that).
So in the Taliban fighters went. End of story. Move on to the next engagement.
Well not quite. Turns out the Afghan league, or society or Towelhead incorporated or something, in Australia are up in arms because their Muslim buddies were caged in a dog pen. They claim cultural insensitivity. Tch! Poppycock! More of this PC bollocks.
Y'see, apparently the Towelheads think dogs are "dirty" creatures. In fact, they aren't allowed in "living" areas of humans. (Which, frankly, is rich coming from those sandal-wearing, skirt-wearing, bearded, unwashed dirtbags).
Well I've news for you, Towelheads - this is a war - and many would say you lot started it so suck it up. (Of course, a fair few would say you just reacted but that's for another day...).
Bottom line: I'll take a dog over a Towelhead any day of the week!
Sunday, August 31, 2008
CHURCH KNEW OF ABUSE ALLEGATIONS
Of course it did. It knows about them all and just chooses to sweep them under the carpet.
This is the Papistry. And how it works. I'm not going to go into it again. Suffice to say the Catholic church is a veritable hotbed of corruption and sexual abuse.
And no-one seems to care enough to bring these sickos to account.
This is the Papistry. And how it works. I'm not going to go into it again. Suffice to say the Catholic church is a veritable hotbed of corruption and sexual abuse.
And no-one seems to care enough to bring these sickos to account.
THUGS OF LEAGUE
Sonny Bill Williams is an ex-Rugby League player who reneged on his 5 year contract to go play Union in France (for a shitload of money).
His only explanation - "I've had enough". I suspect he refers to the following amongst other things.
Greg Bird is, or rather was, a current League player for the Cronulla Sharks, (he's been fired). Why? Well, it seems Mr Bird, for reasons known only to him, "glassed" his American girlfriend, Katie Milligan, in the face. "Glassing" is the disgusting practice of smashing a glass in someone's face, causing severe lacerations at best, loss of sight and permanent scarring among the worst results.
A cowardly act, even more so against a woman - and beggaring belief when considered this particular woman was the man's girlfriend. What would make someone do such a thing?
Anyway, the bottom line is that he's been sacked from the club and rightfully so, and is now facing charges from the police (unless of course the woman, who must suffer from self esteem problems, retracts the charges. THAT would be hard to believe but it happens...).
So you see, whilst there are exceptions, League players ARE thugs in the main and frankly I don't blame Sonny Bill for wanting out.
His only explanation - "I've had enough". I suspect he refers to the following amongst other things.
Greg Bird is, or rather was, a current League player for the Cronulla Sharks, (he's been fired). Why? Well, it seems Mr Bird, for reasons known only to him, "glassed" his American girlfriend, Katie Milligan, in the face. "Glassing" is the disgusting practice of smashing a glass in someone's face, causing severe lacerations at best, loss of sight and permanent scarring among the worst results.
A cowardly act, even more so against a woman - and beggaring belief when considered this particular woman was the man's girlfriend. What would make someone do such a thing?
Anyway, the bottom line is that he's been sacked from the club and rightfully so, and is now facing charges from the police (unless of course the woman, who must suffer from self esteem problems, retracts the charges. THAT would be hard to believe but it happens...).
So you see, whilst there are exceptions, League players ARE thugs in the main and frankly I don't blame Sonny Bill for wanting out.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
METROSEXUAL OUT - - RETROSEXUAL IN.
Yet another breed with a fancy title.
The Retrosexual. At least according to Dave Besley, author of The Retrosexual Manual. He describes them as, "real men who, value biffo, beer and breasts". I’ve news for you, Dave – that’s not a real man for a start – that’s a Neanderthal. And there’s damn all new about them. Actually, the over-indulgence in the second usually facilitates the involvement in the first.
Australian actor, Joel Edgerton, who welcomes the return of such a man says, "bring back the Steve McQueen types". He claims he is definitely not a metrosexual, that he's "not that into preening". Asked if he was the new Retrosexual he replied, "maybe I'm just lazy".
Soap star and Matrix actor, Clayton Watson (never heard of him...and that film was shite – all of them) says, “I think girls are over guys who are worried about waxing and exfoliation”. (If true, this has been your own fault ladies. I told you to be careful what you wish for).He goes on to claim he’d rather spend his weekends at the pub with his mates rather than shopping for clothes. (That’s of course, if his woman permits it!).
He goes on to say of his self-professed kind, “we like drinking beer; we swear a lot and we hate shaving”. Aside from sinking piss, does this remind you of anyone, readers? Yeah, that’s right – ME!!!
I’ve been saying this since the creation of the metrosexual – that spineless, gay as a tutu weirdo.
I’m a man. A real man. Hairy (but not Italian hairy); I don’t cry in public and definitely not in front of other men; I don’t use creams of any sort; I go to a barber, not a hairdresser; I don’t wear cute chains around my neck or bangles round my wrist; or, God help us - flip-flops; and yes, I swear – like a f**kin trooper.
That said, I know how to treat women, though the new, emboldened "equal to men" (which is absurd) women are a bit much to handle, being that they seem to hold Germaine Greer as their Queen.
I’m educated, well-spoken (hey, between the swearwords, I’m very articulate...so much so in fact that often I have to dumb down my language to be understood) and polite.
I have written of this before (it obviously fell on deaf ears - most of what I say does unfortunately...). Now it seems what women want, according to Dave...is me. A man, who's not afraid to act or look like a man. Rough, tough, yet smart and at times sensitive (but remember, let's not get carried away. There's sensitive and there's blubbing into one's coke at the movies!)
The Retrosexual. At least according to Dave Besley, author of The Retrosexual Manual. He describes them as, "real men who, value biffo, beer and breasts". I’ve news for you, Dave – that’s not a real man for a start – that’s a Neanderthal. And there’s damn all new about them. Actually, the over-indulgence in the second usually facilitates the involvement in the first.
Australian actor, Joel Edgerton, who welcomes the return of such a man says, "bring back the Steve McQueen types". He claims he is definitely not a metrosexual, that he's "not that into preening". Asked if he was the new Retrosexual he replied, "maybe I'm just lazy".
Soap star and Matrix actor, Clayton Watson (never heard of him...and that film was shite – all of them) says, “I think girls are over guys who are worried about waxing and exfoliation”. (If true, this has been your own fault ladies. I told you to be careful what you wish for).He goes on to claim he’d rather spend his weekends at the pub with his mates rather than shopping for clothes. (That’s of course, if his woman permits it!).
He goes on to say of his self-professed kind, “we like drinking beer; we swear a lot and we hate shaving”. Aside from sinking piss, does this remind you of anyone, readers? Yeah, that’s right – ME!!!
I’ve been saying this since the creation of the metrosexual – that spineless, gay as a tutu weirdo.
I’m a man. A real man. Hairy (but not Italian hairy); I don’t cry in public and definitely not in front of other men; I don’t use creams of any sort; I go to a barber, not a hairdresser; I don’t wear cute chains around my neck or bangles round my wrist; or, God help us - flip-flops; and yes, I swear – like a f**kin trooper.
That said, I know how to treat women, though the new, emboldened "equal to men" (which is absurd) women are a bit much to handle, being that they seem to hold Germaine Greer as their Queen.
I’m educated, well-spoken (hey, between the swearwords, I’m very articulate...so much so in fact that often I have to dumb down my language to be understood) and polite.
I have written of this before (it obviously fell on deaf ears - most of what I say does unfortunately...). Now it seems what women want, according to Dave...is me. A man, who's not afraid to act or look like a man. Rough, tough, yet smart and at times sensitive (but remember, let's not get carried away. There's sensitive and there's blubbing into one's coke at the movies!)
Friday, August 22, 2008
COLIN/COLINETTE
Six days ago a young humpback calf wandered into Pittwater, a bay area just North of Sydney Harbour, and a playground for the well off.
It had clearly been separated from its mother and was lost.
Enter Australia’s finest, the NPWS (National Parks and Wildlife Service) and the catalogue of incompetence, rivalled only by fuckwit Iemma and his cronies in the NSW Labor Government, began.
We’ll fast forward to yesterday, some five days after the initial sighting of the distressed young whale. A day when they discovered he wasn’t in fact, Colin, so much as Colinette, a she.
Good work NPWS – only five days.
Back to the beginning.
Colinette, as I mentioned, drifted into Pittwater obviously lost and in distress, and began to swim up to any boats in the area that resembled the size of her mother.
The NPWS watched, and in their oh so important epiletted uniforms, discussed what to do.
One day turned into two; two into three; into four.
The young whale was starving to death while the “experts” (I have such fucking contempt for these people) sought advice from...well, fuckin everybody. Meantime, the whale starved and in its way, as a frightened child might, pleaded for help, demostrated by its constant nudging against the hulls of boats. A heart-tugging sight.
The NPWS continued to procrastinate. They set up an exclusion area to prevent those who had the wherewithal and desire to help, from coming near the terrified young whale.
At no time did they attempt to feed the hungry infant, despite having a precedent in America where they did exactly that. They watched it starve and as its health deteriorated, they wrung their collective hands and said, “there’s nothing we can do”. So not so much a “can do” attitude as “can’t do” then…
Six days later, they put the helpless animal to death.
The public were divided into two groups; one side claiming it was nature at work and people need to get over it, the other outraged at the NPWS’s apparent lack of action in helping the animal and it’s eventual destroying it.
The first group are a mixture of callous and indifference and are the sorts of people who if they own a dog for example, keep it outside. They cite examples in nature where this happens often. We know nothing about it, they argue. And they’re right –it does. Nature is very harsh at times. But on this occasion it didn’t. It occurred in full view of us and it is, (or at least, is in my world) incumbent on us as rulers of the planet to do what we can to protect those that can’t protect themselves – no matter what species. They should have towed it out to the migration lanes and waited. Sooner or later an adult would’ve appeared. They cruise up and down that coast all year round. True, they do have a “season’ as it were but also, it’s not unheard of for individuals just expelled from the group to be nomadic.
And if the worst was to eventuate and a surrogate didn't appear, well, at least they tried. Here they didn't. Didn't do a fucking thing - just let it suffer while they dawdled, the destroyed it.
They should've fed it, at least for the short term, to give it some breathing space. But no, the experts froze, completely stunned in their incompetence.
The second group have, judging by the radio calls I heard, the animal’s best interest at heart and fail to see how something can’t be done.
The geniuses with the university degrees (what, in sinking piss and rutting each other like pigs…?) towed the animal out to sea at one point and…left it. Sort of, “Ok, this’ll do”.
The whale followed them back, alone and frightened, seeking help.
The experts were stumped.
This was about incompetence and money, make no mistake. They didn’t want to spend the money they use to fund their cars and “educational” trips on just a whale.
It fine when they’re reaping it in while the whales migrate, when they charge king’s ransoms to send out their boats to whalewatch but when the time comes to step up and help one of the money making machines…
Tough shit for Colin/Colette.
It had clearly been separated from its mother and was lost.
Enter Australia’s finest, the NPWS (National Parks and Wildlife Service) and the catalogue of incompetence, rivalled only by fuckwit Iemma and his cronies in the NSW Labor Government, began.
We’ll fast forward to yesterday, some five days after the initial sighting of the distressed young whale. A day when they discovered he wasn’t in fact, Colin, so much as Colinette, a she.
Good work NPWS – only five days.
Back to the beginning.
Colinette, as I mentioned, drifted into Pittwater obviously lost and in distress, and began to swim up to any boats in the area that resembled the size of her mother.
The NPWS watched, and in their oh so important epiletted uniforms, discussed what to do.
One day turned into two; two into three; into four.
The young whale was starving to death while the “experts” (I have such fucking contempt for these people) sought advice from...well, fuckin everybody. Meantime, the whale starved and in its way, as a frightened child might, pleaded for help, demostrated by its constant nudging against the hulls of boats. A heart-tugging sight.
The NPWS continued to procrastinate. They set up an exclusion area to prevent those who had the wherewithal and desire to help, from coming near the terrified young whale.
At no time did they attempt to feed the hungry infant, despite having a precedent in America where they did exactly that. They watched it starve and as its health deteriorated, they wrung their collective hands and said, “there’s nothing we can do”. So not so much a “can do” attitude as “can’t do” then…
Six days later, they put the helpless animal to death.
The public were divided into two groups; one side claiming it was nature at work and people need to get over it, the other outraged at the NPWS’s apparent lack of action in helping the animal and it’s eventual destroying it.
The first group are a mixture of callous and indifference and are the sorts of people who if they own a dog for example, keep it outside. They cite examples in nature where this happens often. We know nothing about it, they argue. And they’re right –it does. Nature is very harsh at times. But on this occasion it didn’t. It occurred in full view of us and it is, (or at least, is in my world) incumbent on us as rulers of the planet to do what we can to protect those that can’t protect themselves – no matter what species. They should have towed it out to the migration lanes and waited. Sooner or later an adult would’ve appeared. They cruise up and down that coast all year round. True, they do have a “season’ as it were but also, it’s not unheard of for individuals just expelled from the group to be nomadic.
And if the worst was to eventuate and a surrogate didn't appear, well, at least they tried. Here they didn't. Didn't do a fucking thing - just let it suffer while they dawdled, the destroyed it.
They should've fed it, at least for the short term, to give it some breathing space. But no, the experts froze, completely stunned in their incompetence.
The second group have, judging by the radio calls I heard, the animal’s best interest at heart and fail to see how something can’t be done.
The geniuses with the university degrees (what, in sinking piss and rutting each other like pigs…?) towed the animal out to sea at one point and…left it. Sort of, “Ok, this’ll do”.
The whale followed them back, alone and frightened, seeking help.
The experts were stumped.
This was about incompetence and money, make no mistake. They didn’t want to spend the money they use to fund their cars and “educational” trips on just a whale.
It fine when they’re reaping it in while the whales migrate, when they charge king’s ransoms to send out their boats to whalewatch but when the time comes to step up and help one of the money making machines…
Tough shit for Colin/Colette.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
KNOCK KNOCK - - WHO'S THERE.
The Jovies, aka, Jehovah's Witnesses. Two Honeys in fact; a middle aged one with a pretty young novice in tow (Boing!).
Yep, they just called at my house to tell me that the Lord's return is imminent and that I should treat it as urgent (I said "He'd better get a move on - I've to go to the shops). They showed me a passage from a bible from a man who claimed such urgency, wait for it...around 300 BC. So...not really that urgent.
From some American reprint of the actual bible. New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures. I've never heard of it and the writer of this particular passage I've never heard of either and I know the bible (being that I was a Christian once upon a time - and a Sunday School teacher at that).
Anyway, the pleasant and courteous fellow that I am, I gave them the time to chat and they left me their publication, Watchtower from the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society of Pennsylvania, (made in Japan - isn't everything these days).
Anyway anyway, after they declined my offer to come in and get naked I gently 'chucked' them on their respective chins and sent them on their way.
I'm such a good boy!
Yep, they just called at my house to tell me that the Lord's return is imminent and that I should treat it as urgent (I said "He'd better get a move on - I've to go to the shops). They showed me a passage from a bible from a man who claimed such urgency, wait for it...around 300 BC. So...not really that urgent.
From some American reprint of the actual bible. New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures. I've never heard of it and the writer of this particular passage I've never heard of either and I know the bible (being that I was a Christian once upon a time - and a Sunday School teacher at that).
Anyway, the pleasant and courteous fellow that I am, I gave them the time to chat and they left me their publication, Watchtower from the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society of Pennsylvania, (made in Japan - isn't everything these days).
Anyway anyway, after they declined my offer to come in and get naked I gently 'chucked' them on their respective chins and sent them on their way.
I'm such a good boy!
ANOTHER SPECIES FACING EXTINCTION
Sharks. "Terrors of the deep". Those prehistoric creatures who rule the seas and have done since the year dot (every living thing on earth originated from he water).
After the scare of "Jaws", that great film, they were hunted by the uneducated and ignorant, spurred on by fear. (Because, let's face it - it's OUR ocean - how dare they swim in it when we want to).
They're now in the sights of the capitalists. In search of the dollar. And for what do they slaughter these magnificent creatures? Their fins. That's it. They catch them, cut off their fins and throw them back into the sea where they drown.
Fuckin slopes!
And these wankers in Australia are no better. Between them, Melbourne, Brisbane and Cairns export approximately 200 tons of shark fin. Just to sate the unquenchable appetites of the billions of slopes. (These are the same people who are responsible - along with the US and India - for the majority of the world's greenhouse gases and who refuse point blank to sign the agreement to reduce said gases).
And so another species, which along with crocodiles, are the oldest on the planet - veritable dinosaurs in fact - are facing extinction.
What will happen when they're gone? Oh dear, no more shark fin soup!
Next!
After the scare of "Jaws", that great film, they were hunted by the uneducated and ignorant, spurred on by fear. (Because, let's face it - it's OUR ocean - how dare they swim in it when we want to).
They're now in the sights of the capitalists. In search of the dollar. And for what do they slaughter these magnificent creatures? Their fins. That's it. They catch them, cut off their fins and throw them back into the sea where they drown.
Fuckin slopes!
And these wankers in Australia are no better. Between them, Melbourne, Brisbane and Cairns export approximately 200 tons of shark fin. Just to sate the unquenchable appetites of the billions of slopes. (These are the same people who are responsible - along with the US and India - for the majority of the world's greenhouse gases and who refuse point blank to sign the agreement to reduce said gases).
And so another species, which along with crocodiles, are the oldest on the planet - veritable dinosaurs in fact - are facing extinction.
What will happen when they're gone? Oh dear, no more shark fin soup!
Next!
Monday, August 18, 2008
FROM OUR WIRE SERVICES...
...which appear to be bent, frankly.
The article pertains to the recent MotoGP round from the Czech Republic's Brno circuit.
I watched the race and Stoner and Rossi both buggered off on the rest of the field, creating a 7 second lead after just 5 laps. Stoner was trying to break Rossi and Rossi...well, he was doing what he does so well - just hanging behind, keeping pace, checking out his opponent's weak spots.
Lap 7 saw Stoner lose it when after braking hard into the turn and then releasing the brakes, his front end just let go sending him into the "kitty litter". Game over for him. Rossi went on to win by just shy of 17 seconds from Elias and Capirossi.
These are the facts.
The Daily Rag's report:
According to the Rag, Rossi said, "Without Stoner's fall I probably wouldn't have won".
Bollocks! I saw the race and the post race interviews (which is surprising in itself as no Aussies made the podium) and not once did Rossi even intimate such a thing. What he did say, however (paraphrased), was that he had Stoner's pace and was happy to sit there for the time being secure in the knowledge that he could pass him at will later in the race. It's classic Rossi.
He now has a 50 point lead with 6 rounds remaining. If Stoner wins every remaining race (hardly likely) and Rossi gets second, Rossi will still win the championship.
Number EIGHT. That's right, eight world titles and he's what, 26 or something?
As for The Daily Rag. Glorified toilet paper.
The article pertains to the recent MotoGP round from the Czech Republic's Brno circuit.
I watched the race and Stoner and Rossi both buggered off on the rest of the field, creating a 7 second lead after just 5 laps. Stoner was trying to break Rossi and Rossi...well, he was doing what he does so well - just hanging behind, keeping pace, checking out his opponent's weak spots.
Lap 7 saw Stoner lose it when after braking hard into the turn and then releasing the brakes, his front end just let go sending him into the "kitty litter". Game over for him. Rossi went on to win by just shy of 17 seconds from Elias and Capirossi.
These are the facts.
The Daily Rag's report:
According to the Rag, Rossi said, "Without Stoner's fall I probably wouldn't have won".
Bollocks! I saw the race and the post race interviews (which is surprising in itself as no Aussies made the podium) and not once did Rossi even intimate such a thing. What he did say, however (paraphrased), was that he had Stoner's pace and was happy to sit there for the time being secure in the knowledge that he could pass him at will later in the race. It's classic Rossi.
He now has a 50 point lead with 6 rounds remaining. If Stoner wins every remaining race (hardly likely) and Rossi gets second, Rossi will still win the championship.
Number EIGHT. That's right, eight world titles and he's what, 26 or something?
As for The Daily Rag. Glorified toilet paper.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
TRI NATIONS TIME AGAIN -- WOOHOO!
From the home of the World Champions, the Springboks. They take on the Mighty Blacks, who, as it happens, are fielding a squad of almost new talent (eight new players debuting).
This will be very interesting. The Boks as far as I know are themselves fielding their usual team with probably a few minor changes.
But the Blacks have their apparent secret weapon - the spectacular Richie McCaw.
Let the battle commence.
This will be very interesting. The Boks as far as I know are themselves fielding their usual team with probably a few minor changes.
But the Blacks have their apparent secret weapon - the spectacular Richie McCaw.
Let the battle commence.
Monday, August 04, 2008
STAND UP PEEING
Some "athlete" ws on TV just a while back explaining what is entailed in taking a drug test for the Olympics.
She describes it as:
"You stand and lift your shirt up to your neck, and drop your trousers to your ankles and pee in a beaker - with a chaperone watching to prove it's actually your urine".
Hoho. Pretty straight forward for the men (matter of fact, some showoffs could go for distance haha. John Thomases are quite handy at times), but how does it work with the women? Does someone hold the cup while the girl stands knees apart? What about direction? Splashes?
And what if you let a fart sneak out while your flexing??
More importantly, isn't this very pose the favourite of flashers? (Not that I would know, you understand).
Oh man, such an image. Think I'll stick to the sofa...!
...And pass on that job!
She describes it as:
"You stand and lift your shirt up to your neck, and drop your trousers to your ankles and pee in a beaker - with a chaperone watching to prove it's actually your urine".
Hoho. Pretty straight forward for the men (matter of fact, some showoffs could go for distance haha. John Thomases are quite handy at times), but how does it work with the women? Does someone hold the cup while the girl stands knees apart? What about direction? Splashes?
And what if you let a fart sneak out while your flexing??
More importantly, isn't this very pose the favourite of flashers? (Not that I would know, you understand).
Oh man, such an image. Think I'll stick to the sofa...!
...And pass on that job!
PERSPECTIVE
In Mugabeland, where inflation sits at two million percent, a loaf costs, what was it, 200 billion or something as ridiculous?
In the normal world where inflation is about 3-4 percent, the American Hello (or something - they're all the same to me), and another British mag have paid 15 million for pictures of the Brangelina offspring.
Credit to the parents, mind, they've donated it all to charity but still...15 million??? For baby pictures? They'd need to be able to flap the wings on their arses and fly for that sort of dough if ye ask me!
My word!!!
In the normal world where inflation is about 3-4 percent, the American Hello (or something - they're all the same to me), and another British mag have paid 15 million for pictures of the Brangelina offspring.
Credit to the parents, mind, they've donated it all to charity but still...15 million??? For baby pictures? They'd need to be able to flap the wings on their arses and fly for that sort of dough if ye ask me!
My word!!!
Saturday, August 02, 2008
VENGEANCE SHALL BE MINE...
...Saith the Mighty Blacks.
And such vengeance it was.
I watched the game at a mate's place and as it unfolded I was thinking, "KB'll be doing a happy dance. Sure enough, when I returned home there was an email informing me of exactly that.
A spectacular performance from the men across the Ditch. Beginning with a new version of the famed Haka, the Maori war dance. And it's a whopper...a real beaut, arguably (by me at least), the best ever. Ali Williams is one scary looking MF. Matter of fact, during it they all look scary.
They crossed for four tries against Deans' men's one. Dan Carter's boot was for the most part on target (you missed one Dan - try harder, Giteau missed none!).
Nonu was in scintillating form, breaking for it time and time again and scoring two of the four tries in the process, his second heartbreaking one, after the time horn blew (they let the play finish - for those not in the know).
The Wallabies fought back for a while, scoring a try themselves but eventually (and historically inevitably, notwithstanding the rather shocking double loss recently) succumbed to the might of the Black's offence which was relentless. Time after time the men in green and gold left the field with blood flowing from various tears to their heads.
Richie McCaw, the captain returned from injury led his troops like a legend. The TV commentator alluded to the enormous weight on the young man's shoulder (the weight of a nation, were I think the commentator's words...). He was everywhere, almost omnipresent but it was quite obviously a team effort as every man had a go, breaking, dodging, slamming...
Still the juggernaut continued.
A final score of 39-10 sees New Zealand move to the top of the Tri-Nation's ladder, virtue of Nonu's bonus point awarding fourth try, with tonights defeated Wallabies in close second, one point behind but with a game in hand. The Boks (current World Champions) are in last, also with a game in hand, on 5.
Note: I discovered this from the Sunday Rag the next day as the dickhead Australians didn't show any interviews (both captains/both coaches) because they lost and like spoilt little children they "took their ball home". Christ, I have to get the fuck out of this place! Where will I move to? Answers on a postcard...
Anyway, the comp is still wide open.
Classic All Blacks just stompin' their foe.
Two weeks til the next Tri Nations game (The Blacks vs The Boks)
Dance away, KB.
And such vengeance it was.
I watched the game at a mate's place and as it unfolded I was thinking, "KB'll be doing a happy dance. Sure enough, when I returned home there was an email informing me of exactly that.
A spectacular performance from the men across the Ditch. Beginning with a new version of the famed Haka, the Maori war dance. And it's a whopper...a real beaut, arguably (by me at least), the best ever. Ali Williams is one scary looking MF. Matter of fact, during it they all look scary.
They crossed for four tries against Deans' men's one. Dan Carter's boot was for the most part on target (you missed one Dan - try harder, Giteau missed none!).
Nonu was in scintillating form, breaking for it time and time again and scoring two of the four tries in the process, his second heartbreaking one, after the time horn blew (they let the play finish - for those not in the know).
The Wallabies fought back for a while, scoring a try themselves but eventually (and historically inevitably, notwithstanding the rather shocking double loss recently) succumbed to the might of the Black's offence which was relentless. Time after time the men in green and gold left the field with blood flowing from various tears to their heads.
Richie McCaw, the captain returned from injury led his troops like a legend. The TV commentator alluded to the enormous weight on the young man's shoulder (the weight of a nation, were I think the commentator's words...). He was everywhere, almost omnipresent but it was quite obviously a team effort as every man had a go, breaking, dodging, slamming...
Still the juggernaut continued.
A final score of 39-10 sees New Zealand move to the top of the Tri-Nation's ladder, virtue of Nonu's bonus point awarding fourth try, with tonights defeated Wallabies in close second, one point behind but with a game in hand. The Boks (current World Champions) are in last, also with a game in hand, on 5.
Note: I discovered this from the Sunday Rag the next day as the dickhead Australians didn't show any interviews (both captains/both coaches) because they lost and like spoilt little children they "took their ball home". Christ, I have to get the fuck out of this place! Where will I move to? Answers on a postcard...
Anyway, the comp is still wide open.
Classic All Blacks just stompin' their foe.
Two weeks til the next Tri Nations game (The Blacks vs The Boks)
Dance away, KB.
BLEDISLOE CUP - - GAME TWO
It's on. After getting well beaten by Dean's Wallabies, the Mighty Blacks now have a home game at Eden Park, Auckland to seek their revenge.
And they have their inspirational captain, Richie McCaw back, returning from an ankle injury.
Whatever happens, it'll be a beaut. Ever since Deans took over the coaching duties of the Wallabies, they haven't lost. And that, considering the Wallabies' previous woeful record, is quite the accolade. So no matter what happens in future (this for you, KB) console yourself with the fact that each success is down to a Kiwi.
Game on people. Woohoo!!
And they have their inspirational captain, Richie McCaw back, returning from an ankle injury.
Whatever happens, it'll be a beaut. Ever since Deans took over the coaching duties of the Wallabies, they haven't lost. And that, considering the Wallabies' previous woeful record, is quite the accolade. So no matter what happens in future (this for you, KB) console yourself with the fact that each success is down to a Kiwi.
Game on people. Woohoo!!
GET THEM OUT OF SIGHT...DON'T GO NEAR THE LEPERS
There’s a brutal anti smoking ad on tv. It shows a middle aged man who in life would have been quite the larrakin, but now, after having suffered a stroke as a result of smoking (allegedly – I believe nothing those people say and I’d give them the cane, were it up to me…! I of course refer to the anti-smoking Nazis) he is now trapped in a paralysed, stroke afflicted body, being tended to by his destroyed but stoic wife.
He talks about his kid, so although we don’t see them in the ad, it’s clear they exist and the intimation is that they, too, are suffering the same fate as their mother – minus the clear understanding.
It’s a fucking rough advert, and no mistake.
It’s also a fact – but not a guarantee. It’s like this:
I know smoking is detrimental to my health. There exist wee men in deepest darkest Peru with bones through their noses who fucking know as well.
However, you simply cannot guarantee that this end will be my (or anyone’s end). Which is exactly, word for word, what you’re doing. A desperate act from a cartel bereft of ideas and with no concrete evidence, resorting to scare tactics - which history has proven doesn't work.
Smoking, in point of fact, doesn’t always kill. (It does however, fuck one’s lungs but that isn’t my current point – and even if it was, who the fuck are you to tell me I can’t. There are countless ways life can kill us and if you’re going to start instructing me in how to live, complete with vicious fucking legislation, then life is truly at an end…)
Another of these ads show a smoker being operated on by surgeons to remove “fatty deposits” that can “lead to a stroke, blindness” blah, blah, fucking blah. Once again – a possibility, not certainty…
What is a certainty though, is that if you are obese, remember them, you know who I mean...the fatties, those blobs of human dough who sweat and wobble through life gorging on whatever they can lay their meaty, sausage-like fingers on, they will die earlier than expected. And be every bit as unhealthy (arguably more so) as the much maligned smoker. A smoker's health is affected predominately by the reduction in lung capacity - a fatty's by the fact that their body weight has doubled, tripled in size, thus putting their heart under incredible strain as the organ created to carry a finite amount now has to cope with this amount doubling/tripling.
And if you want facts and figures...go and look them up yourself (I've never been a researcher) but the crux is this:
Global obesity now costs more in terms of human life and strain on the health systems than tobacco related diseases. This is a fact – look it up.
And so, employing society’s own rationale, and given that our roly-poly friends don’t have to view the same deterrent as a similar group, then it can only be deduced that a form of discrimination exists.
And has done for years. In fact, now, under instruction of that fuckwit, Iemma, the cretinous NSW Premier, all tobacco products are now being forced “under the counter” – to protect the young from their fatal influence.
Meantime said young are imitating their porky parents and eating themselves to the aforementioned early grave. While washing it down with copious amounts of piss and staggering their way to beatings, stabbings and unwanted pregnancies.
The humble smoke doesn't seem so bad now...
He talks about his kid, so although we don’t see them in the ad, it’s clear they exist and the intimation is that they, too, are suffering the same fate as their mother – minus the clear understanding.
It’s a fucking rough advert, and no mistake.
It’s also a fact – but not a guarantee. It’s like this:
I know smoking is detrimental to my health. There exist wee men in deepest darkest Peru with bones through their noses who fucking know as well.
However, you simply cannot guarantee that this end will be my (or anyone’s end). Which is exactly, word for word, what you’re doing. A desperate act from a cartel bereft of ideas and with no concrete evidence, resorting to scare tactics - which history has proven doesn't work.
Smoking, in point of fact, doesn’t always kill. (It does however, fuck one’s lungs but that isn’t my current point – and even if it was, who the fuck are you to tell me I can’t. There are countless ways life can kill us and if you’re going to start instructing me in how to live, complete with vicious fucking legislation, then life is truly at an end…)
Another of these ads show a smoker being operated on by surgeons to remove “fatty deposits” that can “lead to a stroke, blindness” blah, blah, fucking blah. Once again – a possibility, not certainty…
What is a certainty though, is that if you are obese, remember them, you know who I mean...the fatties, those blobs of human dough who sweat and wobble through life gorging on whatever they can lay their meaty, sausage-like fingers on, they will die earlier than expected. And be every bit as unhealthy (arguably more so) as the much maligned smoker. A smoker's health is affected predominately by the reduction in lung capacity - a fatty's by the fact that their body weight has doubled, tripled in size, thus putting their heart under incredible strain as the organ created to carry a finite amount now has to cope with this amount doubling/tripling.
And if you want facts and figures...go and look them up yourself (I've never been a researcher) but the crux is this:
Global obesity now costs more in terms of human life and strain on the health systems than tobacco related diseases. This is a fact – look it up.
And so, employing society’s own rationale, and given that our roly-poly friends don’t have to view the same deterrent as a similar group, then it can only be deduced that a form of discrimination exists.
And has done for years. In fact, now, under instruction of that fuckwit, Iemma, the cretinous NSW Premier, all tobacco products are now being forced “under the counter” – to protect the young from their fatal influence.
Meantime said young are imitating their porky parents and eating themselves to the aforementioned early grave. While washing it down with copious amounts of piss and staggering their way to beatings, stabbings and unwanted pregnancies.
The humble smoke doesn't seem so bad now...
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
INFLATION HARDLY DESCRIBES IT...
Mugabe land, aka, Zimbabwe, has just produced its first 100 billion dollar note.
What can one buy for such an incredible note?
Two loaves of bread. That's it. 50 bil a loaf.
Far out.
What can one buy for such an incredible note?
Two loaves of bread. That's it. 50 bil a loaf.
Far out.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
MADDIE
The Madeline McCann case is now officially closed. The little girl still hasn't been found but the authorities have given up looking.
It means the McCanns can now access the police file, which while the case was open, was blocked.
They say, as one would imagine, that they'll never give up looking but it's been more than a year so...God Himself only knows where the girl is. Whether she's alive or dead.
I don't know which would be worse; dead, she's at peace, but if she's alive, who knows what horrors she must have faced and is still facing.
The parents must be out of their minds.
It means the McCanns can now access the police file, which while the case was open, was blocked.
They say, as one would imagine, that they'll never give up looking but it's been more than a year so...God Himself only knows where the girl is. Whether she's alive or dead.
I don't know which would be worse; dead, she's at peace, but if she's alive, who knows what horrors she must have faced and is still facing.
The parents must be out of their minds.
Monday, July 21, 2008
OH-OH
After some months of experimentation and research I have come to the conclusion that I have emphysema of the upper portion of both my lungs. (I also have chronic fuckin heartburn - think it was the fish and chips earlier. The two aren't connected).
Fuck! I'm not invincible after all!
Might be time to stop smoking. And maybe take up the football I've been thinking of. I train my mate's young fella in the art of striking (as I used to play often as a wee lad) and it turns out I still have great accuracy.
Can curve it and everything.
Hey, I'm like the David Beckham of Warragamba (without the fitness...and the good looks...and the adoration...oh yeah - and the wife's underwear!)
Reminds me of a joke"
First man: "I can't wait t'get home to get the wifes knickers off".
Second man: "Yeah"?
First man: "Yeah, they're fuckin killin me"!
Fuck! I'm not invincible after all!
Might be time to stop smoking. And maybe take up the football I've been thinking of. I train my mate's young fella in the art of striking (as I used to play often as a wee lad) and it turns out I still have great accuracy.
Can curve it and everything.
Hey, I'm like the David Beckham of Warragamba (without the fitness...and the good looks...and the adoration...oh yeah - and the wife's underwear!)
Reminds me of a joke"
First man: "I can't wait t'get home to get the wifes knickers off".
Second man: "Yeah"?
First man: "Yeah, they're fuckin killin me"!
US MOTOGP
It was run early this morning AEST. And from the lights onwards it was between two protagonists. Casey Stoner and Valentino Rossi.
The Australian, Casey Stoner, is the current World Champion, a title he earned more off the back of Ducati's superfast machine than his ability. (That said, the young chap clearly has ability, I don't question that...).
Italy's Valentino Rossi currently leads the World Championship and if this race is anything to go by, fully intends on recapturing it.
Stoner had been the fastest throughout all the practice sessions by a cool half second, which as anyone who's ever raced would know, is a fair amount (for example, times 32 laps is a sixteen second lead on the last lap).
Right from the get go these two raced away from the rest of the field, opening a seven second gap in as many laps. In a league of their own, they were never more than a few bike lengths apart (and often not even that).
Stoner on Pole, had a trademark fast start; Rossi, from second, too (albeit not so trademark - not that it matters a whole lot as he simply carves his way to the front regardless...).
Over the next laps they each overtook one another, Stoner clearly attempting to break the tow, and aware of his practice time advantage, took the lead.
Immediately Rossi backed it in and retook the lead.
Again stoner.
Again Rossi.
This went on all race, at times fairings and elbows touched as one (Rossi) through sheer will forced his way through. It was tight - so very tight, and is generally considered to be exciting, nay thrilling racing to watch ('s pretty bloody good to take part in too actually - woohoo!)
Anyway, in short, Rossi did to Stoner, the same thing he did to Gibernau some years ago (when on the final corner he just stuck it up the inside forcing his competitor wide. Note: In point of fact, Gibernau did "leave the door open" as they say. I saw it). Time after time. And eventually, demonstrating perhaps his true ability, Stoner cracked, and overshot, ending up in the gravel. Race over, for first at least - he remounted and finished second such was the lead they had.
To Stoner, Rossi's moves weren't quite as vicious, more...determined. (There's a mentality in sport where one's mindset is more vital than physical or machine ability).
That didn't however, stop Stoner crying like a baby after the race. Boo-hoo, those moves were too tough, he whined.
Yes they were, but
a. they weren't dangerous, and
b. if the "wheel's space" wasn't there, the move couldn't've been attempted.
So...
Away back to your dollies wee lad if you can't hack it.
Or toughen up because this is exactly what broke Gibernau's career. He couldn't hack the constant pressure from the undisputed world's best rider. (He didn't win 7 world championships by being nice (Heh heh, thataboy!)
Fact is, there are few, if any, who can defeat Rossi in a head to head. It's not unheard of, but his trademark is to apply serious pressure when he's right on the shoulder of the leader, trying to force an error - and almost always succeeds.
This isn't a gentleman's club - it's a bike race, and if you leave an inch...well, all one needs is a front tyre width. That's enough.
The Australian, Casey Stoner, is the current World Champion, a title he earned more off the back of Ducati's superfast machine than his ability. (That said, the young chap clearly has ability, I don't question that...).
Italy's Valentino Rossi currently leads the World Championship and if this race is anything to go by, fully intends on recapturing it.
Stoner had been the fastest throughout all the practice sessions by a cool half second, which as anyone who's ever raced would know, is a fair amount (for example, times 32 laps is a sixteen second lead on the last lap).
Right from the get go these two raced away from the rest of the field, opening a seven second gap in as many laps. In a league of their own, they were never more than a few bike lengths apart (and often not even that).
Stoner on Pole, had a trademark fast start; Rossi, from second, too (albeit not so trademark - not that it matters a whole lot as he simply carves his way to the front regardless...).
Over the next laps they each overtook one another, Stoner clearly attempting to break the tow, and aware of his practice time advantage, took the lead.
Immediately Rossi backed it in and retook the lead.
Again stoner.
Again Rossi.
This went on all race, at times fairings and elbows touched as one (Rossi) through sheer will forced his way through. It was tight - so very tight, and is generally considered to be exciting, nay thrilling racing to watch ('s pretty bloody good to take part in too actually - woohoo!)
Anyway, in short, Rossi did to Stoner, the same thing he did to Gibernau some years ago (when on the final corner he just stuck it up the inside forcing his competitor wide. Note: In point of fact, Gibernau did "leave the door open" as they say. I saw it). Time after time. And eventually, demonstrating perhaps his true ability, Stoner cracked, and overshot, ending up in the gravel. Race over, for first at least - he remounted and finished second such was the lead they had.
To Stoner, Rossi's moves weren't quite as vicious, more...determined. (There's a mentality in sport where one's mindset is more vital than physical or machine ability).
That didn't however, stop Stoner crying like a baby after the race. Boo-hoo, those moves were too tough, he whined.
Yes they were, but
a. they weren't dangerous, and
b. if the "wheel's space" wasn't there, the move couldn't've been attempted.
So...
Away back to your dollies wee lad if you can't hack it.
Or toughen up because this is exactly what broke Gibernau's career. He couldn't hack the constant pressure from the undisputed world's best rider. (He didn't win 7 world championships by being nice (Heh heh, thataboy!)
Fact is, there are few, if any, who can defeat Rossi in a head to head. It's not unheard of, but his trademark is to apply serious pressure when he's right on the shoulder of the leader, trying to force an error - and almost always succeeds.
This isn't a gentleman's club - it's a bike race, and if you leave an inch...well, all one needs is a front tyre width. That's enough.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
LMAO - TWO ARSEHOLES
Gordon Brown called Alastair Darling into his office one day & said, '
> Alastair , I have a great idea! We are going to go all out to win back
> Middle England '.
>
> 'Good idea PM, how will we go about it?' said Darling.
>
> 'Well' said Brown 'we'll get ourselves two of those long Barbour coats,
> some proper wellies, a stick & a flat cap, oh & a Labrador. Then we'll
> really look the part. We'll go to a nice old country pub, in Much
> Something or other, & we'll show we really enjoy the countryside,
> ........ oh & remember not to mention the hunting with dogs Act'
>
> 'Right PM' said Darling. So a few days later, all kitted out & with the
> requisite Labrador at heel, they set off from London .
>
> Eventually they arrived at just the place they were looking for & found
> a lovely country pub &, with the dog, went in & up to the bar.
>
> 'Good evening Landlord, two pints of you best ale, from the wood please'
> said Brown .
>
> 'Good evening Prime Minister' said the landlord, 'two pints of best it
> is, coming up'
>
> Brown & Darling stood leaning on the bar contemplating new taxes,
> nodding now & again to those who came in for a drink, whilst the dog lay
> quietly at their feet. As they drank their beer they chatted about how
> heart-rending it was that pensioners were being imprisoned for not
> paying the council tax.
>
> All of a sudden, the door from the adjacent bar opened & in came a
> grizzled old shepherd, complete with crook. He walked up to the Labrador
> , lifted its tail & looked underneath, shrugged his shoulders & walked
> back to the other bar. A few moments later, in came a wizened farmer who
> followed the same procedure.
>
> To the bewilderment of Brown & Darling people of all ages & gender
> followed suit over the next hour.
>
> Eventually, unable to stand it any longer, Darling called the landlord
> over.
>
> 'Tell me' said Darling, 'Why did all those people come in & look under
> the dog's tail like that? Is it an old Custom?
>
> 'Good Lord no,' said the landlord. 'It's just that someone has told them
> that there was a Labrador in this bar with two arseholes'.
> Alastair , I have a great idea! We are going to go all out to win back
> Middle England '.
>
> 'Good idea PM, how will we go about it?' said Darling.
>
> 'Well' said Brown 'we'll get ourselves two of those long Barbour coats,
> some proper wellies, a stick & a flat cap, oh & a Labrador. Then we'll
> really look the part. We'll go to a nice old country pub, in Much
> Something or other, & we'll show we really enjoy the countryside,
> ........ oh & remember not to mention the hunting with dogs Act'
>
> 'Right PM' said Darling. So a few days later, all kitted out & with the
> requisite Labrador at heel, they set off from London .
>
> Eventually they arrived at just the place they were looking for & found
> a lovely country pub &, with the dog, went in & up to the bar.
>
> 'Good evening Landlord, two pints of you best ale, from the wood please'
> said Brown .
>
> 'Good evening Prime Minister' said the landlord, 'two pints of best it
> is, coming up'
>
> Brown & Darling stood leaning on the bar contemplating new taxes,
> nodding now & again to those who came in for a drink, whilst the dog lay
> quietly at their feet. As they drank their beer they chatted about how
> heart-rending it was that pensioners were being imprisoned for not
> paying the council tax.
>
> All of a sudden, the door from the adjacent bar opened & in came a
> grizzled old shepherd, complete with crook. He walked up to the Labrador
> , lifted its tail & looked underneath, shrugged his shoulders & walked
> back to the other bar. A few moments later, in came a wizened farmer who
> followed the same procedure.
>
> To the bewilderment of Brown & Darling people of all ages & gender
> followed suit over the next hour.
>
> Eventually, unable to stand it any longer, Darling called the landlord
> over.
>
> 'Tell me' said Darling, 'Why did all those people come in & look under
> the dog's tail like that? Is it an old Custom?
>
> 'Good Lord no,' said the landlord. 'It's just that someone has told them
> that there was a Labrador in this bar with two arseholes'.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
FUCK MAN --THEY'RE HERE.
Papist Day has arrived. Papist week actually.
200,000 odd of them crushed into Darling Harbour and surrounds for the opening mass.
And on stage - a couple of hundred 'hats'; the leaders of the throng (no Pope as yet though). Cardinal George Pell, who's facing issues of his own currently, involving carpets and the sweeping under thereof, spoke about how good it is to celebrate freedom and love (as long as you're not gay...or exercising your right to NOT have a child...or wearing an annoying t-shirt).
And proving the world DOESN'T stop turning just because the Pope's in town - the humble Aussie meat pie is now the World Youth Day meat pie. Complete with the 'swishes' of the Opera House rooves.
Gotta love those capitalists.
I wonder what God really thinks*. I can't imagine He'd approve.
*About the Catholic church and its ways - not the pies (man's gotta eat...or Mrs Mac in this case - who's probably eating caviar with the proceeds off all the flogged pies!)
200,000 odd of them crushed into Darling Harbour and surrounds for the opening mass.
And on stage - a couple of hundred 'hats'; the leaders of the throng (no Pope as yet though). Cardinal George Pell, who's facing issues of his own currently, involving carpets and the sweeping under thereof, spoke about how good it is to celebrate freedom and love (as long as you're not gay...or exercising your right to NOT have a child...or wearing an annoying t-shirt).
And proving the world DOESN'T stop turning just because the Pope's in town - the humble Aussie meat pie is now the World Youth Day meat pie. Complete with the 'swishes' of the Opera House rooves.
Gotta love those capitalists.
I wonder what God really thinks*. I can't imagine He'd approve.
*About the Catholic church and its ways - not the pies (man's gotta eat...or Mrs Mac in this case - who's probably eating caviar with the proceeds off all the flogged pies!)
Sunday, July 13, 2008
BOKS/ALL BLACKS' TEST MATCH
As you know I no longer have Austar (remember those fuckers?) and so I have to seek out other places to watch the Test Matches (except the ones involving Australia which are shown on terrestrial TV - wankers!).
Which means bars. Now I’m not a big drinker – in fact, I have barely contained contempt for those who imbibe as a way of life (which is pretty much all Australians. There’s a macho, beer-swilling (yet fearful of their women) mentality about these people that irritates the fuck outa me).
Anyway, bars it is.
So I go to my “local”, which isn’t really my local as I live half an hour away; my actual local is this plastic, glass and steel establishment whose atmosphere more represents an airport lounge than a bar.
Note: I love airports so it’s not like I have anything against lounges but…we’re talking bars here. Aussies, it seems, can’t do bars.
Anyway, anyway, this particular local is local to my mate’s place – a two minute walk so it’s handy. And they have satellite TV. Ergo, they would be able to show the game. You’d think, right?
Well think again – this is “footy” territory, known by it’s real term, Rugby League – game much the same as rugby, and with the same strong, muscled young blokes except with little in the way of grey matter.
Fans of such knuckleheads, (aspiring knuckleheads with no talent) who were of course, hammered, presented their case with typified class last night.
As I’ve said, it’s footy territory, and so I actually, (despite their being about 15 TVs in the place…) had to request the viewing of the rugby. Which, credit to the wee girl behind the bar (think it was more my accent than the request…), was readily granted; presumably because they too, knew there was a plethora of TVs.
That was at 5 PM.
At 530, the manageress came out (because I and my mate smoke so yes we could watch the game, but it would have to be outside in the cold…BRRRRR!!!) and started searching for the correct channel. 3 Knuckleheads had been sucking down piss (and had been for some hours judging by their state – leaning on things to prevent sway, incoherent rambling, accompanied by the odd jettisoned wayward spittle – why do they always lean in close? – and get pushed back to arms length by yours truly. It always seems to halt their flow, the slight on their piss-induced attempted camaraderie. Kinda like, "Hey man, fuckin buddy up over there"!
And they were content to watch “the ponies”; horse and single man cart racing on which people spend copious amounts of money in a vain attempt to make a fast buck. Some successful, some not so.
So, immediately after the girl started flicking, the rabble was startled from their drunken state momentarily as they voiced their disapproval of the channel being changed with a chorus of unintelligible grunts and snorts.
The natives weren’t happy.
But the wee girl, power to her, wasn’t having any of it and told them straight, someone requested it. Eventually the question was asked, “who wants the League?”
Everyone but me (hoho – a prince amongst buffoons). And my mate but he was here more for the piss and chance, however slim, of meeting a woman.
Damn.
I discovered subsequently, however, the rugby was being played on a 4 times bigger TV – the old Plasma TVs – inside and I could also see it from outside while I sucked dowm my own particular vice.
So the buffoons it seems just shot themselves in the foot (Hoho)
We went inside, thus avoiding the cold and the aforementioned incoherent but intrusive ramblings from the drunks. And chased away an aul boy (with an audible
“Hrmph”) who had been silently sitting at the plasma screen which previously had been showing footy but due to his footy mates outside, now found himself banished outside into the cold.
Anyway, I eventually go to watch the match which was between The Springboks (South Africa) and the Mighty Blacks (New Zealand), who it turned out weren’t quite mighty enough this time around.
It was a hard game with the Boks scoring two to the Mighty Blacks' one with the rest scored by the boot, finishing 30-28 to the “Boks”. Defence was the key. The importance of this emerged at the 2003 World Cup and has carried on since. It can make for a slower game, true, but we can’t tell teams not to defend – it’s an essential part of the play. The opposition will just have to try harder; it’ll make for a good hard slog, which this game was. Probably the two strongest packs in the world. It’s no wonder the poor bastard stuck in the middle looks like he’s gasping for breath – he probably is!
I wonder how the absence of Richie McCaw affected the outcome. Can’t be ignored.
Anyway, I saw it and it was good and as a bonus created a bit of a stir amongst the yokels.
Result.
Back in a fortnight to see another. The Boks play the Wallabies (Australia) next week and should pound them, notwithstanding the “Deans” factor.
Which means bars. Now I’m not a big drinker – in fact, I have barely contained contempt for those who imbibe as a way of life (which is pretty much all Australians. There’s a macho, beer-swilling (yet fearful of their women) mentality about these people that irritates the fuck outa me).
Anyway, bars it is.
So I go to my “local”, which isn’t really my local as I live half an hour away; my actual local is this plastic, glass and steel establishment whose atmosphere more represents an airport lounge than a bar.
Note: I love airports so it’s not like I have anything against lounges but…we’re talking bars here. Aussies, it seems, can’t do bars.
Anyway, anyway, this particular local is local to my mate’s place – a two minute walk so it’s handy. And they have satellite TV. Ergo, they would be able to show the game. You’d think, right?
Well think again – this is “footy” territory, known by it’s real term, Rugby League – game much the same as rugby, and with the same strong, muscled young blokes except with little in the way of grey matter.
Fans of such knuckleheads, (aspiring knuckleheads with no talent) who were of course, hammered, presented their case with typified class last night.
As I’ve said, it’s footy territory, and so I actually, (despite their being about 15 TVs in the place…) had to request the viewing of the rugby. Which, credit to the wee girl behind the bar (think it was more my accent than the request…), was readily granted; presumably because they too, knew there was a plethora of TVs.
That was at 5 PM.
At 530, the manageress came out (because I and my mate smoke so yes we could watch the game, but it would have to be outside in the cold…BRRRRR!!!) and started searching for the correct channel. 3 Knuckleheads had been sucking down piss (and had been for some hours judging by their state – leaning on things to prevent sway, incoherent rambling, accompanied by the odd jettisoned wayward spittle – why do they always lean in close? – and get pushed back to arms length by yours truly. It always seems to halt their flow, the slight on their piss-induced attempted camaraderie. Kinda like, "Hey man, fuckin buddy up over there"!
And they were content to watch “the ponies”; horse and single man cart racing on which people spend copious amounts of money in a vain attempt to make a fast buck. Some successful, some not so.
So, immediately after the girl started flicking, the rabble was startled from their drunken state momentarily as they voiced their disapproval of the channel being changed with a chorus of unintelligible grunts and snorts.
The natives weren’t happy.
But the wee girl, power to her, wasn’t having any of it and told them straight, someone requested it. Eventually the question was asked, “who wants the League?”
Everyone but me (hoho – a prince amongst buffoons). And my mate but he was here more for the piss and chance, however slim, of meeting a woman.
Damn.
I discovered subsequently, however, the rugby was being played on a 4 times bigger TV – the old Plasma TVs – inside and I could also see it from outside while I sucked dowm my own particular vice.
So the buffoons it seems just shot themselves in the foot (Hoho)
We went inside, thus avoiding the cold and the aforementioned incoherent but intrusive ramblings from the drunks. And chased away an aul boy (with an audible
“Hrmph”) who had been silently sitting at the plasma screen which previously had been showing footy but due to his footy mates outside, now found himself banished outside into the cold.
Anyway, I eventually go to watch the match which was between The Springboks (South Africa) and the Mighty Blacks (New Zealand), who it turned out weren’t quite mighty enough this time around.
It was a hard game with the Boks scoring two to the Mighty Blacks' one with the rest scored by the boot, finishing 30-28 to the “Boks”. Defence was the key. The importance of this emerged at the 2003 World Cup and has carried on since. It can make for a slower game, true, but we can’t tell teams not to defend – it’s an essential part of the play. The opposition will just have to try harder; it’ll make for a good hard slog, which this game was. Probably the two strongest packs in the world. It’s no wonder the poor bastard stuck in the middle looks like he’s gasping for breath – he probably is!
I wonder how the absence of Richie McCaw affected the outcome. Can’t be ignored.
Anyway, I saw it and it was good and as a bonus created a bit of a stir amongst the yokels.
Result.
Back in a fortnight to see another. The Boks play the Wallabies (Australia) next week and should pound them, notwithstanding the “Deans” factor.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
JERRRY... YOU HAVE TO SEE THE BAAAY-BEE...
Heh heh. One of Seinfeld's classic episodes - one of many...
Nicole Kidman’s been knocked up by Keith Urban the country singer. It happened nine month’s ago in fact, (about 11 I think, actually, the sprog's out and about).
Anyway she was and she’s dropped it out. And the gossip mags have been all over it and the pair every chance they have. One going as far as claiming they are Australia's "Royalty" (meantime doing all they can to disassociate themselves from their actual Royalty - the Queen of England is still their Head of State much to their dismay, vocal dismay often).
They’ve called it Sunday…something, the second name is relatively normal, it’s the Christian name that’s a bit out there.
Apparently it’s after some…person of interest who must have done something remarkable. I think it was writing or speaking out or something, it's not essential to the piece. Unless of course, like most pieces it's to blow sunshine up the arse of the woman to justify giving the kid such a name. (You just know she'll be called every other day of the week by all and sundry...Y'know, some parents really should take more care when naming their offspring. And if she turns out to be as loose as her namesake I can just see her being referred to as "anyday". Read on...).
The thing is, they claim the name as being synonymous with a worthy ideal, that the person after whom the kid’s named is some sort of intellectual who waxes lyrical on a daily basis; which she may well do but it should also be noted, this apparent noble carried on a ménage a trios with her husband and some other joe for a large part of her life.
Some chick havin' it away with two joes? That’s just a little too keen of the long hard one to warrant me to naming a child after.
What? Should I give my congratulations? Righto. Congrats Nic – for getting knocked up. On ye Keith for knocking her up. I’m thrilled for ye – rolls eyes, wonders what so hard about getting knocked up...no pun intended
Nicole Kidman’s been knocked up by Keith Urban the country singer. It happened nine month’s ago in fact, (about 11 I think, actually, the sprog's out and about).
Anyway she was and she’s dropped it out. And the gossip mags have been all over it and the pair every chance they have. One going as far as claiming they are Australia's "Royalty" (meantime doing all they can to disassociate themselves from their actual Royalty - the Queen of England is still their Head of State much to their dismay, vocal dismay often).
They’ve called it Sunday…something, the second name is relatively normal, it’s the Christian name that’s a bit out there.
Apparently it’s after some…person of interest who must have done something remarkable. I think it was writing or speaking out or something, it's not essential to the piece. Unless of course, like most pieces it's to blow sunshine up the arse of the woman to justify giving the kid such a name. (You just know she'll be called every other day of the week by all and sundry...Y'know, some parents really should take more care when naming their offspring. And if she turns out to be as loose as her namesake I can just see her being referred to as "anyday". Read on...).
The thing is, they claim the name as being synonymous with a worthy ideal, that the person after whom the kid’s named is some sort of intellectual who waxes lyrical on a daily basis; which she may well do but it should also be noted, this apparent noble carried on a ménage a trios with her husband and some other joe for a large part of her life.
Some chick havin' it away with two joes? That’s just a little too keen of the long hard one to warrant me to naming a child after.
What? Should I give my congratulations? Righto. Congrats Nic – for getting knocked up. On ye Keith for knocking her up. I’m thrilled for ye – rolls eyes, wonders what so hard about getting knocked up...no pun intended
THEY JUST CAN'T KEEP IT IN THEIR KAKS...
You may well be beginning to think that just maybe I have a particular dislike of the Catholic church (…and you’d be right…), but in my defence...
Cardinal George Pell is Australia’s most senior catholic. He stands accused of covering up a case of homosexual abuse involving one of his priests.
He labelled the published claims as an embarrassment leading up to the Papist day celebrations. And allegedly sent misleading information to the victim.
He now claims the missive was badly worded and a “mistake”. (Beep, beep, beep??)
Whether he covered it up or not although serious enough considering the corruption ramifications is bad enough but let’s not forget yet another fuckin priest is up to no good again. Sticking his dick where it shouldn’t be.
And they’re coming here to celebrate. And I’m not allowed to protest unless I follow what surely is the sternest set of guidelines since the Nazis. The laws introduced for the event "suspend political and civil rights" according to an independent report. And the Council for Civil Liberties is suing the State Government over it.
What do they expect me to do? Just forget what they do – and have done – and currently do? Just so they can recruit? (By the way, the first batch of "pilgrims" arrived today).
To bask in glory at my expense (it’s not about the money – but fuck me, 130 million? What’s that, a percentage measured in single figures of their total, outrageous wealth?)
How could God condone this? Surely he doesn’t. Where does that then leave the Papists?
Cardinal George Pell is Australia’s most senior catholic. He stands accused of covering up a case of homosexual abuse involving one of his priests.
He labelled the published claims as an embarrassment leading up to the Papist day celebrations. And allegedly sent misleading information to the victim.
He now claims the missive was badly worded and a “mistake”. (Beep, beep, beep??)
Whether he covered it up or not although serious enough considering the corruption ramifications is bad enough but let’s not forget yet another fuckin priest is up to no good again. Sticking his dick where it shouldn’t be.
And they’re coming here to celebrate. And I’m not allowed to protest unless I follow what surely is the sternest set of guidelines since the Nazis. The laws introduced for the event "suspend political and civil rights" according to an independent report. And the Council for Civil Liberties is suing the State Government over it.
What do they expect me to do? Just forget what they do – and have done – and currently do? Just so they can recruit? (By the way, the first batch of "pilgrims" arrived today).
To bask in glory at my expense (it’s not about the money – but fuck me, 130 million? What’s that, a percentage measured in single figures of their total, outrageous wealth?)
How could God condone this? Surely he doesn’t. Where does that then leave the Papists?
Monday, July 07, 2008
CHECK THIS OUT.
The picture really speaks for itself. This joe jumped in after the bear - after they'd shot it in the arse with a tranquilizer dart (would tend to make one bolt...).
and it raced straight into the water where it passed out and began to drown.
Lucky bastard (the joe - not the bear).
The arse shot (it's okay, it's not naked!)
Everyone here's (excepting the bear) a puddin'! See what happens when you stop people smoking!!!
*Images courtesy of the Courier Mail*
and it raced straight into the water where it passed out and began to drown.
Lucky bastard (the joe - not the bear).
The arse shot (it's okay, it's not naked!)
Everyone here's (excepting the bear) a puddin'! See what happens when you stop people smoking!!!
*Images courtesy of the Courier Mail*
Sunday, July 06, 2008
HOW DESPERATE IS THIS...?
The latest thing, according to TV execs.
"Battle of the Choirs". A bunch of no-marks singing to a panels of "expert" judges.
OH
MY
GOD!!!!!
"Battle of the Choirs". A bunch of no-marks singing to a panels of "expert" judges.
OH
MY
GOD!!!!!
BILL HENSON'S LEGACY
In the continuing Bill Henson saga (you’ll remember the imfamous nude 13 year old pictures from that exhibition, at the Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery in the Sydney suburb of Padington …) the art community, specifically The Art Monthly Australia, has fired off its latest salvo in defiance of the somewhat media-driven public outrage.
This time, in a move that puts the 13 year old in the positively adult bracket, a six year old is seen to grace the cover of July’s edition of the magazine – naked of course.
Some of Bill Henson’s works are featured within.
Maurice O’Riordan, in the editorial of the magazine, writes that he chose the 2003 image of the child (the photographer’s own child apparently) in the, “hope of restoring some dignity to the debate” and to, “validate nudity and childhood as subjects for art”.
The artist, Ms Papapetrou, said she supports the publication of the work on the cover of the magazine.
She goes on to claim, “we need to be clever enough to distinguish art from other types of images otherwise we live in danger of eradicating any image of childhood in this culture for future generations to see”.
Premier Morris Iemma ( not that I put any stock in what that moron has to say, but for purposes of the article and in view of the fact hat he was elected - albiet by equally moronic voters) has immediately threatened to withdraw the funding Art Monthly Australia receives from the State Government. It also receives more than 50,000 from the Federal Government.
He claims, unsurprisingly, “Images of this kind are distasteful, exploitative of children – a cheap, sick, stunt at the expense of a young child”. (Mr Iemma can’t think for himself though so…make of that what you will).
A spokeswoman for the Australia Council who fund the magazine, defended their decision to do so
To play advocate to the “popinjays”, (and let’s face it, with a name like Maurice, how could he be anything but…) they claim that any given image of any given thing, be it man, woman, or child, can be viewed from a purely artistic perspective and in fact it’s not a naked picture of a child they see, but an expression of childhood.
The opponents claim that it’s simply another example of the sexualisation of children and that the risk that it could provide fodder to those with less noble or artistic motives is simply to big a risk to take. Because, in their defence, paedophiles can't be identified just by sight.
They cite examples of clothes manufactured for children as young as 3, which are clearly intended to duplicate a sexy look more typically used by older teens and adults.
Then of course, as in all things, the zealots on the fringe who outrage about paedophilia put in their tuppence worth – which frankly isn’t helpful, and whose only purpose is to give the media something they can exploit in order to whip the dumb public into a frenzy (thus sell more copy - I’m not sure this motivation isn’t worse.
It seems any way one looks at it, the children in question are fast becoming pawns in the game of oh so civilized chess).
I also find it indictable of the The Daily Rag, that in a clearly transparent attempt to discredit the publication's legitimacy, refers to it in the headline as merely a “mag” like it shares the domain with a cheap soft porn one. The clear intimation.
Meantime, Henson's, and other similar works, increase in value.
This time, in a move that puts the 13 year old in the positively adult bracket, a six year old is seen to grace the cover of July’s edition of the magazine – naked of course.
Some of Bill Henson’s works are featured within.
Maurice O’Riordan, in the editorial of the magazine, writes that he chose the 2003 image of the child (the photographer’s own child apparently) in the, “hope of restoring some dignity to the debate” and to, “validate nudity and childhood as subjects for art”.
The artist, Ms Papapetrou, said she supports the publication of the work on the cover of the magazine.
She goes on to claim, “we need to be clever enough to distinguish art from other types of images otherwise we live in danger of eradicating any image of childhood in this culture for future generations to see”.
Premier Morris Iemma ( not that I put any stock in what that moron has to say, but for purposes of the article and in view of the fact hat he was elected - albiet by equally moronic voters) has immediately threatened to withdraw the funding Art Monthly Australia receives from the State Government. It also receives more than 50,000 from the Federal Government.
He claims, unsurprisingly, “Images of this kind are distasteful, exploitative of children – a cheap, sick, stunt at the expense of a young child”. (Mr Iemma can’t think for himself though so…make of that what you will).
A spokeswoman for the Australia Council who fund the magazine, defended their decision to do so
To play advocate to the “popinjays”, (and let’s face it, with a name like Maurice, how could he be anything but…) they claim that any given image of any given thing, be it man, woman, or child, can be viewed from a purely artistic perspective and in fact it’s not a naked picture of a child they see, but an expression of childhood.
The opponents claim that it’s simply another example of the sexualisation of children and that the risk that it could provide fodder to those with less noble or artistic motives is simply to big a risk to take. Because, in their defence, paedophiles can't be identified just by sight.
They cite examples of clothes manufactured for children as young as 3, which are clearly intended to duplicate a sexy look more typically used by older teens and adults.
Then of course, as in all things, the zealots on the fringe who outrage about paedophilia put in their tuppence worth – which frankly isn’t helpful, and whose only purpose is to give the media something they can exploit in order to whip the dumb public into a frenzy (thus sell more copy - I’m not sure this motivation isn’t worse.
It seems any way one looks at it, the children in question are fast becoming pawns in the game of oh so civilized chess).
I also find it indictable of the The Daily Rag, that in a clearly transparent attempt to discredit the publication's legitimacy, refers to it in the headline as merely a “mag” like it shares the domain with a cheap soft porn one. The clear intimation.
Meantime, Henson's, and other similar works, increase in value.
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