New Year's Revolutions.

I’ve never understood this peculiar mania for making lists of improvements to be contemplated over the next year, otherwise known as “New Year Resolutions”.

Never done it, never will.

I could, theoretically;

Give up smoking – nup,

Cut down on the drinking – nup,

Exercise more – as if!

Still, tonight promises to be very special. Air Crash Investigation is on Seven.

Fuck, I love Air Crash Investigation.

Some holiday thoughts.

Christmas Day.
Oddly enough, the gathering of the Insertnamehere clan at Lenin House this year did not result in fist-fights, food-fights or agonised discussions about who did what to whom in 1976*.

From this I conclude the best way of dealing with my family is to shove vast amounts of food into them as soon as they arrive.

The Second Test.
Could this match get anymore exciting?

I spent most of Sunday, watching the game with my jaw firmly lodged on the floor.

And how fuckin’ good were JP Duminy and Dale Steyn**?

I hope you’re enjoying the match, Melba. It really doesn’t get much better than this.

Harold Pinter
Proof again that being a playwright of some note doesn’t stop you from being a complete cunt in other aspects.

And here was me thinking Ertha Kitt was rhyming slang.

*I didn’t even tell my sister to “put a feckin’ sock in it” when she kept rabbiting on and on about reflexology – such was my restraint.

**The answer – fuckin’ good!

I don't care who's making the feckin' gravy

People must know by now I’m a huge Paul Kelly fan but in the lead-up to Christmas, 774 in Melbourne has been flogging perhaps his worst song pretty much non-stop.

“How to make gravy” is a compendium of crap Paul Kelly songs; musically overblown, trite and schmaltzy.

But these lines really give me the flying shits.

Just add flour, salt, a little red wine and don’t forget a dollop of tomato sauce for sweetness and that extra tang.

Fuck Paul, who makes gravy like that?

Spoon the stuff out of the Gravox tin, whack it in some boiling water and get back on the sauce like everybody else.

And on that festive note, I’d like to wish all the wonderful CuntCunts at TSFKA best wishes and happy travelling.

See you when all this madness is over.

The "liberal blogosphere" can shove a stick up its collective clacker.

It seems, comrades, we’re ending the year pretty much as we started it.

The Canberra press gallery is disappearing up its own orifice at a rate of knots, the Australian is still looking for the brooding prince of Higgins, Peter Costello, to spring forth from the backbench to save the Libs and “Punter” Ponting still looks like a sour-faced prat.

One worrying trend however seems to be gathering pace; the slightly odd obsession for some of the current affairs blogs to worry obsessively about what all the other current affairs blogs are saying. Thus, Crikey* reports that the Rudd Government ETS plan is “wildly unpopular in the liberal blogosphere”.

And what “the liberal blogosphere’ inevitably seems to produce is either carping acceptance of Kruddy or vitriolic opposition – the sort of low-level whining you get when your fan-belt is slipping on the car or you’ve stumbled into a meeting of well-off NIMBYs.

Sections of the “blogosphere” reminds me of those terribly polite middle-class dinner parties (to which, happily, I am no longer invited) where everybody is terribly agreeable and terribly well read and can reproduce large slabs of comment from the Age or ABC without ever engaging their brains and nobody ever really disagrees.

Well, who gives a fuck?

Why should I care what a pack of cunts with an opinion and a computer think? I’m a cunt with an opinion and a computer and nobody cares what I think. Not even me.

It’s this nervous reluctance to move too far out from the pack that annoys me. If you have an opinion, for fuck’s sake express it.

Or not.

Up to you.

But spare me this timid cut and paste from “the liberal blogosphere”.

Oh and Salon opined recently:

There was a bit of controversy in the liberal blogosphere that's worth noting, if only for its implications regarding the future of blogging on the left.

Sweet Jesus!

*Which has been pretty shit** recently, so no surprises there.

** Apart from Firstdogonthemoon.

What We've All Secretly Been Waiting For

Finally! I mean, jesus, those canny bloody publishers really made us wait for this one. Mercedes Corby on the front cover of Ralph. You bloody bewdy! I've been calling for this for a couple of years now. All us salt of the earth, average Strayans feel we know old Merc pretty well after seeing her in that ripper doco on channel 9 earlier in the year. Or at least plenty of sheilas like her. Doesn't she scrub up a treat! What a stroke of luck having her sister thrown in jail for all those years. Just the break she'd been waitin' for. Fuckin' ripper, mate. Made me Chrissy it has.

Much better, Punter!

A goose but at least he's managed to shave.

To those who doubt the power of TSFKA, I say - observe.

I was griping some months ago about Ricky Ponting, captain of the Australian Test team and scruffy slob - specifically his inability to shave before appearing before the media.

Well, the Seff Africans may have given us a complete pantsing but at least he's managed to locate the razor.

And in completely un-related news father of local nutjob, Terry Hicks, says his son won't go back to Afghanistan.

Well, bully for him.

Give up the murderous anti-Semitism as well Dave and you're well on the way to running in an un-winnable seat as a Green Party candidate.

Dorothy Parker Friday!

Razors pain you;

Rivers are damp;

Acids stain you;

And drugs cause cramp.

Guns aren’t lawful;

Nooses give;

Gas smells awful;

You might as well live.

Enough!

Oh dear God, haven’t we suffered enough?

News reports;

Australia's most famous housewife, Dame Edna Everage, will share her beauty secrets with the world by launching her own cosmetics collection.

It is made in collaboration with MAC, and Dame Edna is the first Australian celebrity to have an international collection with the brand.

Sorry Pers, I know you think Barry Humphries is the goat’s knackers, but even you would have to concede this goes too far.

There are so many, fresh, talented Australians on the world stage. Why pick this tired, one-trick pony?

But by far the worst thing will be the inevitable fawning over this unpleasant cunt by the local media when he makes a flying visit to Australia to flog the product.

Again we’ll be treated to countless gushing articles about how Humphries is a “comedy legend” with a “sharp tongue” and “comic flair”.

No he’s not. He’s a nasty old man with a talent for picking on the defenceless and a fondness for making pompous pronouncements about a country he hasn’t lived in for 30 years.

The paper goes on

Adelaide stylist Filip Odzak said he thought it would be successful.

"When we think of Dame Edna we don't see a man in drag - she is an Australian icon."

Again, no he’s not.

An icon is devotional painting of Christ or the saints*, of particular relevance to the Orthodox Churches. Barry Humphries is mostly devoted to himself.

*Sadly, not Ed Kuepper or Chris Bailey.

The 3rd Way

I was going to write the following theory as a comment to Ramon’s Hezbollah post, but decided this was such a political and philosophical breakthrough that it deserved its own little space.

The left wing/right wing political scale is sadly inadequate. It's just 1 dimension after all. Perseus helps by creating the 'south wing' and also creating, by implication, a 'north wing'. Still, this doesn't go far enough. We're still only working with 2 dimensions here. Most of us live in a 3 dimensional world.

I therefore propose a political scale based on 3 dimensions: Left and Right (Width), North and South (Height), Front and Back (Depth).

The left and right indicates economic orientation. Strict, state-controlled socialism at one extreme and pure free market capitalism at the other.

On the north and south axis we have social orientation. We have a free or liberal society with values such as unlimited freedom of thought and speech to the south and social conservatism, with its old fashioned, Howard-like values to the north.

On the front and back or ‘depth’ axis, we have total, government-less anarchy at the front and dictatorship at the back.

We now have a much wider – if not somewhat more complex – range of labels to use. And we love labeling people don’t we? The names of these labels are yet to be determined, but, for example, if you were right, north and back (RNB), you’d be a pure fascist.

The book should be out for Christmas.

Buy me this for Christmas, you crunts.

I think you'll find it's a bit more complicated than that

Details here.

Are we still "all Hezbollah" now?

You may recall, at the time of Israel’s recent invasion of southern Lebanon, certain members of the “left” marched under the slogan of “we are all Hezbollah now”.

This was in turn a reference to the murderous fascist scum engaged in fighting the Israeli army.

Oh, I’m sorry; did I describe them as “murderous fascist scum”? I mean, of course, “heroic freedom fighters against western imperialism”.

Well, it seems the sons of fun in Hezbollah aren’t that keen on a free media, either*.

The Guardian reports;

In the run-up to its launch next week, the glossy quarterly Jasad ("body" in Arabic) has been generating plenty of curiosity and hostility as it prepares to take on some of the most powerful taboos in Arab culture.

Issue one of the Lebanese title includes articles on self-mutilation and cannibalism as well as stories on sexual themes by authors from Egypt, Morocco, Syria and Palestine. Pseudonyms are not permitted. Regular features will include Body-Talk, Voyeur's Corner and My First Time.

The paper also notes

Officials of Hizbullah, the powerful Lebanese Shia movement, tried to close Jasad's stand at this week's Beirut book fair.

The paper doesn't say what "tried to close" involved, but I'm guessing it wasn't a stern blog post.

You’d think, that at some point, certain people might be able to work out that Hezbollah really, really isn’t an organisation any rational leftist would care to embrace.

But comrades, don’t hold your breath.

*They’re not that fond of Jews either.

Or secularists.

Or democracy.

Or voting.

Or women.

Who cares?

This piece in today’s Age fills me with inertia.

The paper notes;

Sir Paul McCartney has disputed the long-held view that John Lennon was the political Beatle, arguing that his views galvanised the band to take a stance against the Vietnam War.

Ignoring music magazines to speak to the intellectual magazine, Prospect, McCartney describes how he caught a taxi to the Chelsea home of philosopher Bertrand Russell and this unplanned meeting sparked the musical foray for pacifism.

Well, whoop-de-whoop.

The paper quotes Sir Paul as saying about his meeting with philosopher Bertrand Russell

“He was fabulous. He told me about the Vietnam War … I remember going back to the studio either that evening or the next day and telling the guys, particularly John Lennon, about his meeting and saying what a bad war it was.”

Paul, do you really want to be associated with kicking off the odious trend of “celebrity” activists, who seem to think their (often limited) achievements in one field gives them the right to bore us rigid with their turgid opinions on all manner of modern ills?

Previously that role had been filled by the cunt Lennon. We may now have to re-think and pelt McCartney with eggs the next time he appears in public.

And as a special treat for the PETA people, I plan to be cremated in a coffin filled entirely with meat*.

*Meat other than my corpse, I mean.

We're Not Racist But...

What’s with this kid Tyler Cassidy?

I’m no great fan of the police, particularly when they over-react, and particularly when it involves the use of guns. And particularly when they book me for an illegal u-turn when it wasn’t even a u-turn you fucking cocksucking bastard! But if this kid was genuinely threatening the police with knives and they shot him out of self-defence, then they had no real alternative. Shoot him in the legs? Not likely with limited practise, adrenaline-driven excitement and an antiquated shooting implement.

It’s no good when somebody’s shot. When the person shot is a kid, that’s even worse. But what’s going on with him? He was a member of the Southern Cross Soldiers, an ultra right wing group of illiterate rednecks out to rid the country of immigrants. What’s with that? Hasn’t he enjoyed a good lasagne, a curry or a kebab? (Yes I know it’s not all about food but I’m hungry).

He didn’t deserve to be shot – who does – but what business does an ill-informed 15 year old have brandishing knives at Northcote Plaza? Probably looking for gooks, niggers or wogs to cut up. Possibly off his head on drugs or, more tragically, severely mentally disturbed. This is disastrous and nothing good’s going to come of it. Why can’t people just get along and make love, not war?

Ironically, he was shot at the All Nations Park.

Good Evening.

An open letter to the Victorian Transport Minister, Lynne Kosky.

Dear Cde. Kosky,

Look I hate to trouble you, what with that Myki thingo you’re wrestling with (and by-the-way, how piss-funny was it when you were demonstrating how simple Myki was to use and the front of the machine fell off. And all the television cameras were there. You do know that the tellies will continue to use that clip every time your name is mentioned from now until the sun expands into a yellow giant and vaporises the earth, don’t you?).

Anyway.

My beef concerns those new, yellow trams. The tone produced when the stop button is pressed sounds alarmingly like the opening chords of “Heaven (must be there)” by the Eurogliders.

I didn’t fight against fascism to have my ears assaulted by bad ‘80s synth-pop every time I jump on the tram. I suggest something more suitable, like “Love will tear us apart’ by Joy Division.

Won’t somebody please think of the children?

Hoping you’re keeping well.

Fraternal regards,

Cde. Ramon Insertnamehere.

The Emperor Is Wearing No Clothes

Mr E. Discharge's mention of Yoko One reminded me of a post I was going to do a while back...

I know Boogeyman doesn't think much of my disclaimers, but I'm going to make another one. I'm a Beatles fan. I have all their albums. When I was loading them all onto I-Tunes, as I do with all my albums, I'm selective, and only bother to upload the songs I like so that if I hit the 'Party Shuffle' function I'm guaranteed to get songs I enjoy. 52 Beatles songs made the cut. That's a lot of songs to like. But from their most renowned and respected album 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band'? Three. Yes, three.

(Actually, only two made it from Abbey Road which is a bag of shit, but that's not the album that gets the muso-intelligentsia all jizzin' over their Bang & Olufsens).

Let me look at the tracks.

Side one
"Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" – 2:02

A good start! I like this track. It's a bit rockin', it's quirky and foot stompin' and makes me wanna drop my 'g's from the end of words. It made my I-Tunes list.

"With a Little Help from My Friends" – 2:44

If it wasn't for his most excellent work with Thomas The Tank Engine, I'd be calling for Ringo to have his adenoids removed. This song is bad enough without listening to his nose sing it to me. Then, to make it worse, fucken Joe Cocker force-feeding us an insufferable cover version that we're stuck with to the grave. It's an overly-sentimental sing-song best suited for a campfire at a Seventh Day Adventist Youth Camp.

"Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" – 3:28

See this is why people shouldn't take drugs. Instead of Government paying millions to advertising executives with ponytails and cocaine budgets that exceed Fiji's GDP to come up with hard-hitting anti-drug ads, all they need to do is buy some advertising space from a network, play this song to a blank screen, and right at the end bring up the text: "Don't do drugs."

"Picture yourself on a train in a station,
With plasticine porters with looking glass ties..."

No, I won't do that John because I'm not a potheaded hippy drongo.


"Getting Better" – 2:47

Is it? Is it Paul? Not if this song is anything to go by. Did you learn this melody line at kidergarten? Sounds like it.

"Fixing a Hole" – 2:36

McCartney himself said he was smoking too much pot when he wrote this song. The song fell into context for me when I read that. You know when you're at a party and some pothead starts talking crap about how we are here and they are there and we're just a hole in the wall and we have to fix it man? Well this song just puts the incoherent ramblings of boring odorous potheads to music. And what's with the harpsichord? Whose idea was that? The Stranglers used harpsichord in the brilliant 'Golden Brown' but no other band has ever managed to make it sound cool.

"She's Leaving Home" – 3:35

Tolerable, but it didn't make my I-Tunes. I did consider it though. Still, 'tolerable' is not a word generally applied to the so-called 'genius' of this album.

"Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" – 2:37

Oh fuck off. No wonder he went to Yoko Ono. Her 'art' was as vaccuous as the childish musings on this supposedly 'surreal' piece. To quote TISM: "It's novel, it's unique, it's shithouse." You know, surrealism isn't meant to be indecipherable garbage, but it invariably is. And you know what else? YES IT IS A FUCKING PIPE! And Andy Kaufman can get fucked too.

Side two (if you can get that far)

"Within You Without You" (George Harrison) – 5:05

Ever been in a cheap Indian restaurant eating 20c pappadams and $2.95 dahl and having the distinct feeling that the hygeine standards in the kitchen are sub-standard? Well, this is the soundtrack to that feeling. Oh, and just because Eastern religions are older doesn't mean they are any better. Have a fucking shower, and then you can tell me about my chakra you HIPPY.

"When I'm Sixty-Four" – 2:37

A ditty. Dennis Walters wouldn't even touch it.

"Lovely Rita" – 2:42

Another ditty. Oh, I see... because they're like the biggest rock band EVAH if they do a nursery-rhyme ditty it's cool? But if, say, Miss Helena from Romper Room wrote and sang it, it would be a nursery-rhyme on a K-tel compilation? I see.

"Good Morning Good Morning" – 2:41

The morning alarm clock from HIPPY HELL. How can the same man that wrote 'Mother', 'Happiness Is A Warm Gun' and 'You've Got To Hide Your Love Away' also write this? How is it possible?

"Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)" – 1:18

Love it.

"A Day in the Life" – 5:33

Love it. At least it finishes alright.

*

I ask you, am I wrong?

The Weight Wagon

So Oprah’s fallen off the weight wagon. That truly is a shame because she helped Obama get where he is today (actually, where is he!) and I want her to be happy.

I never watch her show so I really don’t know what it is she does to achieve her status as world’s most famous and admired woman. Luckily some of her stuff seeps into international – well, western – consciousness such as the Tom Cruise couch jumping routine. Couldn’t live without moments like that. Anyway, it’s never good to see people get fat, especially when they don’t want to be. Sadly this is, I assure you, the vast majority. Even Oprah was "embarrassed".

She blames her thyroid. At least she didn’t blame big bones. I appreciate that thyroid issues can contribute to weight gain. Also, people have varying metabolisms which means some people gain weight easily while some people can barely gain weight at all. But here’s a simple little equation I’ve devised:

Energy consumption > Energy expenditure = Weight gain.

Phew, I think I solved it. After much thought, I think that’s it. No more fad diets, no more lite ‘n’ easy, no more avoiding carbs, fats, meat, dairy, whatever the current thing is we're supposed to avoid. I can boil it down to an even simpler statement: exercise more, eat less. You heard it here first.

Ok, ok. Maybe you think I’m over-simplifying things. But you know, I’m really not. Yes, people who have slower metabolisms have to work harder. That’s true. Sorry, but that’s your lot. You have thyroid problems? I’m sorry to hear that, but you have to work a little harder too. You have big bones? Nobody has big bones. That’s not bone hanging over your jeans.

Exercise more. Eat less.

I’ve done it myself. Lost 20 kgs. How did I do it?

I exercised more and I ate less.

It's Nylex or it's nothing

I recall reading some years ago an account of the Mushroom 40th anniversary concert, held at the MCG and a description of Paul Kelly’s set stuck in my mind.

Paul had launched into the opening of Leaps and Bounds with

“I’m high on a hill, looking over the bridge
To the MCG”

when the crowd of around 60,0000 roared back the next lines

“And way up on high, the clock on the silo
Says 11 degrees.”

As I say, it stuck in my mind for two reasons. Firstly, it is such a beautiful evocation of a time and a place (a freezing Melbourne winter day near Punt Road) and secondly, I can’t imagine a crowd in any other Australian city doing anything similar.

I might be wrong, but I can’t think of any other Australian city being so commemorated in song than Melbourne. Certainly other Australian bands have been closely associated with their home towns; The Triffids (Perth), The Whitlams (Sydney), The Go-Betweens (Brisbane) but Melbourne seems to have a special place in the hearts of its songwriters.

A few quick examples; Sykhooks (“Balwyn Calling”, “Lygon Street Limbo”), The Sports (“What did the detectives say” with its reference to the then Russell Street police headquarters), Weddings, Parties Anything (“Party in Fitzroy”), The Zimmermen (“Don’t go to Sydney”), The Warner Brothers (“Stuck down in Melbourne again”), Underground Lovers (“Rushall Station”) and too many Paul Kelly songs to mention.

For others, see here.

I’ve often wondered why a flat, cold city at the arse-end of anywhere seems to inspire such devotion in music.

My answer – buggered if I know.

Any thoughts?

Who Writes The Headlines?

I saw in today's Age the headline: "Winslet panned for trivialising the Holocaust" and I thought, "Oh no, my equal with Natalie Portman number one hot actress chick has said something stupid... Noooooo!"

But when I went to the actual article to find out what my darling Kate said, I discovered that the headline had little to do with the news report.

What's actually happened is Kate Winslet appears in a film, along with probably hundreds of other actors, not to mention a support crew of hundreds, that one film critic suggests 'trivialises the holocaust'.

If you are to single out who is responsible for (allegedly) trivialising the holocaust, surely it would be the script-writer, or the producers who commissioned the script-writer, or maybe the director if s/he trivialises what would otherwise be a measured and earnest script. To create a headline inferring Kate Winslet is the perpetrator is clearly wrong.

And in any case, this is just one man's opinion. A film critic. Who of course is entitled to his opinion and may indeed be correct in asserting the film trivialises the holocaust.

Point is: Why didn't the headline reflect the story? It should have read, "Film Critic Suggests Movie Starring Kate Winslet Trivialises The Holocaust". I mean, I'd still read the article if that was the headline.

Lift your game, Fairfax.

In related news from the article, the film features Kate Winslet nude. Winslet. Nude. Oh I'll be seeing the movie and making my own boobs up on the assertion that the film boobs trivialises the boobs.

Homeopathy is foolish and must be stopped

Why seemingly intelligent people continue to believe in homeopathy, let alone practice this mumbo-jumbo on a nine-month old, is beyond belief.

Let me stress that this couple have not been found guilty of anything and are entitled to the presumption of innocence, but honestly!

The article notes;

The inquest was told the infant was severely malnourished when she died and had been suffering from such terrible eczema that much of her skin was split.

Her homeopath father and her IT professional mother allegedly treated her with homeopathic remedies rather than her prescribed medication.

FFS!

There is no, repeat no, scientific evidence that I’m aware of that homeopathy is anything other than complete snake-oil. If you know anybody who believes in this nonsense, you may want to print out a copy of this article and shove it under their fucking noses.

The AFI horror, the AFI horror!

So, the AFI Awards.

The “Red Carpet” segment of this nonsense with be hosted by… Julia Zemiro!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, God, the dilemma.

Normally I’d rather have my eyes gouged out by owls than sit through this but, you know, Julia Zemiro!!!!!!!!!!

I suppose I could just watch the “Red Carpet” segment, but do I really want to listen to the current crop of nominees?

But still.

Julia Zemiro!!!!!!!!!!

In related news, could the current bunch of films up for a gong get any lamer? I could film my cat engaged in her favourite pastime of slowly destroying my record collection and it would be up for 11 major AFI Awards.

Has anybody actually seen an AFI nominated film this Year?

Also,

Julia Zemiro!!!!!!!!!!

Dialectical materialism made easy!

People often come up to me and say “Ramon, you filthy Marxist. Explain the concept of dialectical materialism or we’ll kill your cat.”

To which my response is always, “Yeah, fine, go for your life. She’s a vicious, furry anarchist thug and poses a threat to the peace and security of the neighbourhood.”

To which they usually say “Umm, well, we won’t actually kill the cat, but can you explain the concept of dialectical materialism anyway?”

Only too happy to oblige.

The concept of the dialectical goes back to ancient Greece but the concept was refined by the nineteenth century German philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel – or “Fred” to his mates.

Hegel believed society progresses through the conflict of opposites and that everything contains within it the seeds of its own negation. Essentially an existing condition (thesis) gives rise to its opposite (antithesis). Conflict between the two produces a new condition (synthesis) which in turn becomes the new thesis.

Marx accepted the idea but applied it to the material world, rather than the world of ideas, thus “turning Hegel on his head”*.

In Marx, the feudal order saw the rise of the bourgeoisie who gained power in the great revolutions of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, only in turn to face the challenge of the proletariat.

So there you have it.

Pers. trot this out at parties and any woman you desire will be putty in your hands.

*Which I believe was a popular pastime in 19th century Germany.

The "slow food" movement shits me.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to open any “quality” publication these days without coming across some pompous bore droning on and on about “slow food”.

As implemented in Melbourne, “slow food” basically seems to consist of some self-satisfied bourgeois demonstrating their environmental credentials by gathering with other self-satisfied bourgeois to woof down “horse intestine stuffed with larks’ testicles” or whatever the hell this nonsense is supposed to consist of.

In the end, of course, it’s all about conspicuous consumption; showing to your friends how enlightened and cosmopolitan you are without actually doing anything practical for the environment like – you know – not driving young Felicity to her trombone lesson in the family four-wheel drive.

And isn’t it funny how the regions targeted for “slow food” are the usual foodie wank-objects; Italy, Spain, France. How come we never see “slow food” festivals for the northern European countries?

“Well Sven, what do we have for ‘slow food Norway’?”

“OK Jacinta, we have picked herring that’s been marinating in its own slime for six-months, matched with some yellow pickled vegetable and washed down with a spirit we make from rotting potatoes.”

“Sounds delish!!”

Not that I’m a great fan of “slow food” in general.

Some of its principles are;

“Lobbying against government funding of genetic engineering.” Why? If genetic engineering is safe – why not use it, why this blanket ban?

“Lobbying against the use of pesticides.” Well, why not genetically engineer plants to be pest resistant so you don’t need pesticide? Problem solved.

“Preserving and promoting local and traditional food products, along with their lore and preparation”. FTW does this mean? Human societies change all the time, that’s what makes them human and that includes food. Should we preserve “local and traditional food products” from 1350 AD, from 1750 AD, from last Tuesday?

I like food as much as the next bod*, but honestly chaps – don’t you have anything better to do with your time?

*Although probably not as much as Witchie.

Well, If Nobody Else Wants Him...

Artist's sketch of Ben Cousins as a Tiger.

Poor Ben. Stupid Ben. Brilliant Ben. Awesome Ben. Drug-fucked Ben. Gentle Ben. Big Ben. Who knows what Ben a football club will get should they recruit Cousins, Ben. What we do know is that at his peak he was awesome on the field. He could turn matches. He could rip the hearts out of opposition supporters. He could make grown-ups weep in envy at his talent.

We also know he was the type to walk to the front of the line at nightclubs, say "Do you know who I am?" and walk straight in. Eventually, one guesses, that lead to his downfall and his immersion in drug culture.

I can't talk. I have three of four E's a year, and maybe a line of cocaine once every two years... but my occupation, income and reputation is not in any way hindered by this recreational use of drugs. I can't say he is bad for taking drugs mmkay, but I can say he's an idiot for doing so.

Without footy, he's just another bogan.

He has had all year to a) break the habit and b) impress the clubs with his recovery. Working on the premise that 'a' was achieved, he has failed miserably at 'b', even with the assistance of his family, former clubmates and Anthony Mundine (and I'm not being facetious there. Mundine did actually try to help the guy and told him to be a 'man'.)

No clubs picked him up on the weekend, and his only chance now is with two or three clubs at the next round of drafting... one of which is my club, Richmond.

One of the problems was that when the AFL announced that Cousins' drug-testing conditions would be more difficult than any other player, he should have come straight out and said, "No worries!" Instead, there was this murky shit involving his manager claiming it was unfair. I, and many others in the footy world all said, "Shut the fuck up, say 'yes', and play some footy".

If I were Ben Cousins I would have spent all year in schools talking to kids about how bad drugs are mmkay, and at footy clubs, getting fit, working out, impressing them. Cousins hasn't done that. He's failed.

BUT. But. But. Who are we to demand anything of him? He's not our property. All this shit about how sponsors won't like him and how clubs have standards to apply... it's all modern gobbledygook litigious-society weasel-wording OH&S garbage.

Clubs have one core responsibility: To win football matches, playing within the rules of the game.

If Ben Cousins is off the drugs and is ready to play then every team should want him. It is an insult to their members if they do not offer him a spot on their list. What's the harm? Put him on minimum wage, give him a fairdinkum go, and if he gets back on the drugs kick him out on the streets! But if he's off the drugs, give the kid a run. He could win matches for you.

So, as self-appointed President of the Richmond Football Club, I hereby offer Ben Cousins a 1 year contract at minimum wage.

UPDATE:

With the power of MS Paint behind me, I have three other options for Richmond to consider should the Cousins thing fall through.

1. Usain Bolt: As long as he got the ball, not a person on Earth would catch him. Not even Shane Crawford.



2. Christopher Hitchens. He could use his wit, logic and obscure quotes from Ovid's lesser-known works to convince opposition players to let us win.



3. Jenna Jameson. Because Richo has always wanted a team-mate to penetrate.*




* I think he meant a player to penetrate the opposition's defensive zone, but, you know, close enough.

Charles Darwin was never called an arsehole

Ladies, form a queue

Or, Do intelligent people get more roots?

Last night I was watching the excellent doco Judgement Day: Intelligent Design on trial on SBS – which, BTW, is a comprehensive thumping of the Intelligent Design bollocks – when a sudden thought struck me.

“I wonder what Darwin’s sex life would be like if he was alive today?”

Picture the scene;

A nightclub in Melbourne* when a familiar figure sidles up to two Goth chicks chatting at the bar.

Charles Darwin (for it is indeed he) “Splendid Gothic ladies, I am Charles Darwin, the driving intellectual force behind the theory of natural selection. May I buy you both a drink?”

First Goth chick: “Charles Darwin! I’m going to take you home and ride you like a pony!”

Second Goth chick: “Hands off, scrag. I saw him first”

FGC: “Visigoth!”

SGC: “Heretic!”

Charles Darwin: “Ladies, please. There’s more than enough Charles Darwin to go around.”

Goth chicks: “Thanks Charles Darwin. No wonder you’re widely regarded as one of the modern world’s most important intellectuals.”

Am I onto something here? Or do I need to increase my meds?

*Or indeed, in Darwin - if you prefer.

A Spade Is A Spade

Disclaimer 1: Yes, I know that Islamic terrorists comprise like 0.00000001% of the Muslim population.

Disclaimer 2: Yes, I know that Western nations over the course of history have plundered other nations.

Disclaimer 3: Yes, I know that this post seems anti-Islamic, but I want to make it clear that it is not Islamic religion or belief under attack here, it is the behaviour of a small group of psychopaths within the Islamic community.

*

Whether it be 9/11, the Bali Bombing, the Spanish rail bombing or the latest carnage in India, the common denominator is violent Muslims, perpetrating unspeakable atrocities upon innocent people in the name of God and their religion.

The invisible and dubiously existent hegemony will have me call these people 'terrorists', or even more insidious than that is the post-modern variant, 'insurgents', a word that does nothing but muddy the news to the point that we don't know what the hell is happening in Iraq or Afghanistan and who is fighting who and why.

I join Christopher Hitchens in calling these people what they are: religious.

Make no mistake - they think they are doing God's work. They think they will be rewarded in heaven. It says so in the Old Testament, and in the Koran.

No doubt in the coming days we'll have a series of people popping up in the media defending the Muslim community, and a whole bunch of peaceful, reasonable Muslims defending their brothers and sisters by creating a berth wider than the Grand Canyon around what they believe and what those nasty terrorists believe.

Enough is enough, I say. If a player on a football field does something wrong, the whole team has to take the fall. Likewise, if an apocalyptic and psychopathic Islamic group goes about slaughtering innocent people, the whole Islamic community need to fucking sort it out. Are you a Muslim and not a terrorist? Good. Use your influence to weed out these pathetic morons and anyone who supports them. Denounce them. Kick them out of your mosques. Pull down their places of worship. Do not offer them solace. They are PSYCHOPATHS and you created them - yes, you, Islam.

You know, it's a crazy inverse relationship we have with Muslims. Everytime one group of Muslim psychos blow something up, for some reason we have to like other Muslims even more... Mark my words - at some point soon Ruddy will have to come out and say something nice about Muslims. If it keeps going like this, if some Jihadist fuckface blows up a small nation, we'll have to kiss the feet of moderate Muslims and give them money and season tickets to Bell Shakespeare. ENOUGH! Hey, Muslims: Take responsibilty for your religion.

Don't blame America, don't blame the British cos of what they did 50 years ago, don't blame western imperialism, don't blame poverty. What your bretheren have done is sickening, disgusting, sub-human and totally fucked, and they chose to do it themselves, and they did it in your name, and your God's name.

The calm, reasonable, likeable and peaceful Muslims in Australia need to fire up a bit. They need to kick some heads - internally. I say to them: I respect your right to your religious belief, but in return for that religious belief, you owe me, him, her and them the chance to sleep safely at night.

I can't fix it, but you can, because you have access to these people within your religious administration.

So fucking fix it.

Oh... and Christians? Don't think you're escaping my tirade either. The Mumbai killers believe in God. So do you. Believe me, you are much more alike to these terrorists than I am. Your beliefs are essentially the same - all you differ on is the interpretation of God's specific will.

This is as much a religious problem as it is an Islamic one. So don't go trying to distance yourself too far from these terrorists you weasels. This is what fervent God-believing does to people, and you're as much to blame as anyone, given that the Old Testament started all this.

Abraham, dudes. Abraham. You lot share him.

*

I'm Captain Kneejerk, sleep tight kiddies.

This one is too easy

A quick competition, comrades.

A crate of Cooper's Ale to the first TSFKAer who can find the suggestion that the vicious fascists who have murdered scores in the Indian bombings are in fact "brave freedom fighters against western imperialism".

Try looking here.

Back tomorrow.

Who Owns the 00s? Britney or bin Laden?

I've been invited to a '60's' themed party. The costume is no problem, nor I imagine will be the decor for the hosts. We all know the several variations of 60's 'looks' that we can use at a themed party, and the same goes for 50's, 70's and 80's parties. The 90's-themed parties are still a bit vague for the moment, perhaps because not enough time has passed for society and capital C Culture to decide what the hell the 90's looked like.

The 00's are even more an unknown. In forty years times when people are invited to 'noughty' parties, what are they going to wear, and how will the house be decorated?

What are the defining images of our current decade that can translate into decor and costuming? I have a few ideas to get started:

* Osama bin Laden costumes. Not joking either. You can hardly dress up as the Twin Towers, so this is the next best idea. It'll be the 2050 equivalent of dressing up as a Nazi now.

* Twin Tower cakes.

* I-Pods, which will no doubt by then be totally obsolete and a thing of the past because we'll probably have MP9 players in our earlobes or something. The party guests of the future will make I-Pods out of poly-styrene and paint them.

* Halogen downlights. Are they everywhere or what? Every shop and house built since 2000 has fucking halogen downlights in them. Little fucking bastards. Yeah, it's a nice light, but you have to focus them and move them about and shit and there's always dark bits.

* Zen-inspired front gardens with water features, bark and pebbles. Prevalent in all new estates.

* No undies for the girls, a la Lindsay, Britney and Paris. Must alight awkwardly from a car, or, as an alternative...

* Naked. Cos, you know, porn is everywhere.

That's all I've got. I don't understand fashion so I don't understand what look is going to be the 'flairs' of the 00's. All I see on the streets is a mish-mash of the five preceeding decades' fashion and I can't for the life of me see what's now .

Usually you can rely on the movies to capture the looks, but movies set in the present seem to be rarer and rarer, or if they exist at all, they focus in on the oddballs and zanies that don't represent nuffin'.

Any ideas?

Hicksville, SA

Hicksy is back!

Yes, David Hicks, the bloke who ran off from his family and trained with an apocalyptic fascist terrorist group that called for the extermination of Jews and gays and who refused to let women be educated, is back.

And yet again, he is being propped up by the Left... the very 'wing' that under any Taliban government would be the first against the wall.

This time it's our spamming mates at Get Up! For about a year I received their constant barrage of emails. Some of them, sure, were right on the money in my mind, but a lot of their views I thought were just unwarranted and babyish first-year Marxism hysteria - oppose the US at all costs - Blair and Bush and Howard are 'evil' - and so on. I'm no Howard or Bush fan, but I sure as hell prefer having them in power to your average Talib.

So now 'Get Up' are backing Hicksy in his battle to have his restrictions lifted. I for one want Hicks to receive fair conditions. It took too long for his trial to take place, and now that he's back, he should be able to live his life like a normal person and get a job. BUT! BUT! To report in to the authorities regularly and ban him from owning weopons is, as far as I'm concerned, fair. He may not have been a terrorist killer, but we do know he was a supporter of anti-semitism, holocaust denial, extreme Muslim fanatacism and terrorism.

In Hicks' own words:

"Islam will rule again but for now we must have patience we are asked to sacrifice our lives for Allahs cause why not? There are many privileges in heaven. It is not just war it is jihad. One reward I get in being martyred I get to take ten members of my family to heaven who were destined for hell, but first I also must be martyred. We are all going to die one day so why not be martyred?"

As far as I'm concerned, by training with these fucking nutjobs, and talking like this in the first place, he has forfeited his right to own weapons, and I for one believe that he should have to check in with the coppers 3 times a week.

And to 'Get Up' I say this: Instead of making videos looking after right-wing wannabe fascist martyrs, how about gettin' back to some leftwing basics, like, you know, the homeless, the unemployed, the persecuted minorities, the hungry.

Normal shrieking will resume shortly.

Comrades, after due thought I’ve decided to lay off this blogging caper for a week or so.

I’ve been banging on the interwebs since the glory days of TSSH and I think I need a bit of a re-think about what I’m trying to say and how I say it.

I’ve also had a look at some of the pieces I’ve written here recently and they’re a bit, shall we say, sub-par*.

I will be back, as I am a desperately insecure man who needs the approval of others, but I need to do some serious drinking thinking.

I may pop in from time to time to shriek abuse at you.

Or not.

As the case may be.

Please support the other fine writers here**.

*Actually, they were shit.

And no, I’m not going to tell you which ones.

And I’ve deleted them, in any case.

So nyerr, nyerr, nyerr.

** Except Boogey. He’s a CuntCunt.

Aussie Aussie Aussie

Further to Ramon's post...

The angels have downed their trumpets and taken a smoko. The ASX has halted trading and the wolves are at bay. The Devil himself has laid down his arms and signed a 14-day ceasefire agreement with the LORD, and Kevin Rudd is set to declare a National Public Holiday.

Yes, Aussie Baz Luhrmann’s ‘epic’ ™ AUSTRALIA is about to be released, which in one fell swoop will restore Australia’s film industry, cement Australia’s global reputation as being the bewdiest place on Earth, and set Australia up to be the new enfant terrible of world arts, the new China and the new black.

Free-trade agreements between Australia and all UN member nations has been ratified, and Australians no longer need working visas or visas at all to go anywhere in the world and they are hitherto allowed to have sex with any man, woman or sheep in any province of any country on Earth. All global citizens must also let any AUSTRALIANS entering their house to empty their larder, and the hosts must darn Australian tourist's socks.

Australians have also been voted as the BEST people EVAH by all polling and data-gathering agencies in every country of the world and in all polls ever commissioned and ever to be commissioned.

Already, shops in Sydney have sold out of tickertape and brass keys to the city which will adorn Australian Nic and Australian Hugh and director of Australia, the Australian senior spokesperson on all things Australian, Baz Lhurmannm, followed by their inauguration as joint Presidents and Kings and Queens of Australia forever and ever. Towering brass statues some thirty metres high depicting the Australians Nicole Kidman, Hugh Jackman and the director of Australia, the greatest Director on Earth, the Australian Baz Lurhneman, have been commissioned to tour the world every four years, starting from some outback shitheap full of redneck cunts in FNQ.

The NT have reported an influx of workers set to reap the inevitable tourist hordes that will descend from all corners of the globe only minutes after seeing the film AUSTRALIA by Baz Luhrnmann. They are currently enrolled in fast-tracking lingo courses, practicing their use of the word ‘crikey’ as it commonly appears in the film Australia which is directed by the Australian genius Baz Lumrhannm.

Chinatown in New York is bankrupt and will soon be re-branded as Outbacktown.

Jim Schembri has been taken outside and shot after his unpatriotic review.

The SES are turning in their badges and the brown snakes have decided to hibernate for summer as well. The white-tails have emptied their venom and the kookaburras can’t stop laughing. Sharks are now vegetarian. Possums speak English. The moon has eloped with an astral whore and somewhere in another room an old clock ticks.

AUSTRALIA is coming.

For bears to dance to.

I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but
wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
you seem to say so.

I have this pinned up on the wall of my office cubicle thingo.

It makes me weep mingled tears of bitter envy and awe.

Sorry, what is it you do again?

"I hope those tits are organic"

It seems Prince Charles has turned 60.

What an odd life he must lead.

He’s one of the world’s richest men, so it’s not like he has to get up and go to work each morning, yet one of his main tasks – to breed – is already behind him.

He can’t pop down to the pub for a quiet pint and ciggie in the beer garden without a gaggle of security bods, spin-doctors, journos, snappers and the odd nutjob following him.

Everything he does and says is scrutinised, yet nothing he does or says is of any value.

The one job he has any training for depends on his mum dying.

He may be called upon to decide the most complex political matters, yet his only qualifications are a) he’s a bloke and b) he’s an Anglican.

He will be forever overshadowed by his more famous ex-wife. In that he’s a bit like Guy Ritchie but at least Guy Ritchie produced one film that wasn’t complete shit.

He’s next in line to be King of Australia, yet he won’t live here.

Each day he must wake up with the lingering thought “What is it I do again?”

Prince Charles. Why?

Rahm Emanuel sounds like my sort of bloke.

Salon Magazine reports on the man chosen by U.S. President-elect Obama to be his new Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel.

It’s an interesting and well written piece and I urge you to read it.

However, for the time poor, I include this passage, which sums up Mr Emanuel rather well:

One of the founding myths of the Legend of Rahm is of a night at Doe's, a divey steakhouse in Little Rock, Ark., shortly after Bill Clinton was elected in 1992. Emanuel had worked on the campaign, and would soon move into the White House as political director. Some Clintonistas were sitting around at dinner, griping about all the people who had betrayed the new president. But Emanuel wasn't satisfied just to whine about them. (After all, he races triathlons, marathons apparently being insufficiently challenging.) So he grabbed his steak knife and started plunging it into the table, yelling, "Dead! Dead!" as he rattled off the names of the new administration's enemies.

Mr Emanuel, I like the way you think.

Remarkably Compelling! Yes, But What Is It?

Another corporate brochure in the mail from ‘Professional Advantage’ addressed to me, this time spruiking a 'remarkably compelling' product called ‘Infor SunSytems eXFM’.

Allow me to examine the sum of its parts.

‘Infor’ sounds like it’s an abbreviation of ‘Information’, but the usual word for that is ‘info’. Maybe it’s short for ‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’

‘SunSystems’. Now, I would accept ‘Sunsystems’ and ‘Sun Systems’, but not 'SunSystems'. Somewhere along the corporate way, back in the early 90’s I suggest, some arsehat with a marketing degree and a $1000 a day cocaine habit decided that putting title words together but retaining their capitalisation was a smart idea. PricewaterhouseCoopers is one such horror - actually they're even worse because arbitrarily, they drop the capital 'W'.

As for ‘eXFM’, well that’s not even a word; it looks more like my cat walked across the keyboard with the ‘Caps Lock’ key left on.

So what does this amazing product actually do? Dunno. I’ve read the brochure four times and the only hint is a mention of ‘timesheets’.

Features of the product they seem eager to impress upon me include:

• eProcurement (Does that mean I get email? Because I already have that.)
• ‘Self Service’ reporting (Does that mean I have to do my reports myself? If so, why would I want their product?)
• ‘Expense Mgmt’ (Would it kill them to add in the missing letters?), and
• ‘Functionality’ (Mentioned twice. I presume it means you can turn it on and off… whatever the hell it is.)

I ask again: Why can’t businesses talk like normal people? If they want to communicate their concepts to me, why don’t they start by using the English language as opposed to this part-gobbledygook and part-Klingon?

The free ‘strictly limited’ seminar is on the 20th November at Professional Advantage’s offices at 500 Collins St, Melbourne, and it includes a light breakfast.

I’d love to go but there’s some grass growing in my backyard and I feel compelled to watch it.

And for dessert?

The Bali bombers have been executed.

I think they were loathsome fascists and anti-Semites who should have rotted in an Indonesia prison for the rest of their lives, forgotten and unmourned.

However, what gets my goat is that the usual suspects have been jumping up and down, saying “the Australian Government should have done more to stop the executions”.

Umm, chaps? They were Indonesian citizens, sentenced by an Indonesian court and executed by an Indonesian firing squad.

The Australian Government (and opposition as well) has made quite clear its opposition to the death sentence around the world. It’s the height of arrogance to imagine it could do anything more.

I have to admit that if I was going to be executed*, firing squad would probably be my preferred method**.

*After a great big, slap-up meal of Beef Wellington and a couple of bottles of a decent red.

*Not that it’s likely I’d be offered a choice.

It came from Illinois

It's been said one of the best ways of judging the Zeitgeist* of any particular age is to look at the horror films it produces.

Certainly during the Bush era there were a spate of films (28 Days Later, War of the Worlds, Cloverfield, Sex and the City) which featured ordinary citizens as the victims of forces they cannot understand or control, malign beings that leap out of the darkness and rip your head off as you're going down to the shops to get some milk.

Which seems to sum up the Bush era rather nicely, come to think of it.

Now, with Obama heading to the White House and the Democrats in firm control of Congress, it will be interesting to see if this flows on to the entertainment industry.

We'll have to wait to see if Hollywood brings out a film in the near future, where some hideous alien comes from dimensions beyond and buys you a beer or something.

*Why does German have all the cool words? Zeitgeist, schadenfreude, angst, weltschmerz, blitzkrieg - all crackers.

And they're racing in the U.S.

OK punters, here we go.

Voting has just closed in the eastern U.S. states, with the first results expected after 11 AM, Melbourne time and there are a couple of points to keep in mind.

1. As the 2000 election made clear, the winner of the popular vote does not necessarily become Prez. The successful candidate must achieve a majority of delegates (271) in the Electoral College. Each state has a number of votes in the EC, based on the number of seats it holds in the Congress, with the more populous states having more votes. Thus large states like Florida have 27 votes and smaller states like Alaska have three.

2. The vast majority of states operate on a “winner take all basis”. Even if McCain gets 49 per cent of the popular vote in say, California, Obama would still take all of California’s 55 votes to the EC.

3. Voting is not compulsory, so the parties devote vast resources into getting people to vote.

4. The U.S doesn’t have anything like our Australian Electoral Commission. Voting methods are determined by the state in question. This can lead to voting methods varying wildly from state to state and sometimes within states.

5. The seppos are also voting for 538 House of Representatives and Senate seats.

6. In the U.S, the Democrats are blue and the Republicans are red. Annoying I know, but there you are.

7. Keep your eye on key eastern states, like Virginia, Ohio and Florida. If they go heavily for the Dems early on, McCain is most likely toast.

8. U.S. beer is largely crap.

First Hangover in November

(Just quickly, first, in tomorrow's Derby, the horse called Whobegotyou could run backwards around the track with the rotting corpse of Kerry Packer on his back and still win. Put your house on it.)

So the Melbourne Cup is Tuesday which, even if you're not into horse racing, still manages to get most people's attention for a few minutes. It's the race that stops a nation (TM) (c) Pty. Ltd. AO. OAM. PhD.

In Victoria especially, it is a day for getting pissed at breakfast, overstuffing yourself with lobster for lunch, losing all your hard earned-cash in the afternoon and going to work on Wednesday with a massive hangover. It's my favourite day for the year, especially because the extended Perseusian family actually gets together for once. Christmas we're all a bit, "Meh, whatever" but Cup Day is massive for us.

On to the tips. Everyone has been talking about Septimus from the UK, you know, it's the best horse EVAH and shit, but it's only ever run on wet tracks in Europe and if it doesn't piss down the day before or on Cup Day, I say forget about it.

Mad Rush is another international raider that has a strong finish, and Littorio, who's like a pesky little girl, cannot be ruled out.

But my $10 each-way is going on a horse called Nom De Jeu, who came second in the Caulfield Cup (after coming last at the turn) and won the derby last year. It's an NZ horse and they have a great tradition of taking all that's dear to us. Melbourne Cups, our women, our sheep. It'll probably start at about 12/1, so if you put $10 each way ($20 total) and it wins, you'll get about $160 back.

So I suggest $10 each way on Nom de Jeu, and maybe $5 each way on Mad Rush just in case. Unless it pisses down in rain, then change that to Septimus. Total outlay: $30.

Or you could just spend that money on more piss.

Thou shalt not suffer a witch* to live.

The rapid approach of 31st October fills me with dread for two reasons.

Firstly, it’s more than likely that we’ll get some of the neighbourhood kids coming around to our front door, demanding “trick or treat”.

Given this will be on Friday evening and I’ll already be half-cut, I predict something along these lines.

Adorable neighbourhood kids: “Treat or treat!”

Me: “Aw, shit kids. I dunno what we’ve got but I’ll see if I can rustle up a couple of beers for you.’

Mrs INH: “RAMON!!!!!!!”

Seriously, haven’t we got enough crap popular culture from the US** already? It’s just beyond embarrassing.

Secondly, all the usual pagan deadshits will be banging on and on and on about “Beltane” and how the Christian church has stolen their holiday and witch burnings and the usual palaver.

Quite frankly – just fuck off. You’re with people that makes the Seventh Day Adventists look normal, you insist on going “sky-clad***” when you really, really, really don’t have the physique for it, you’ve got an (organic) chip on both shoulders and I’m not surprised the authorities killed so many of you in centuries past – it was probably to get you to SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

I don’t like any religion and I’ll be buggered if I’m going to make an exemption for your particular bag of gibberish.

And while we’re talking about wankers, can somebody suggest to Catherine Deveney she might like to put a fucking sock in it?

Sweet Jesus, she’ll be talking about dewdrops on roses and whiskers on kittens next.

*Obviously not you, Witchie.

**I am aware Halloween originated in iron-age Celtic cultures. Are you an iron-age Celt? Exactly, I thought not.

***In the nuddie.

Separated at birth: A Tale of Two Stephens

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way."

A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens.

Senator Stephen Fielding		Comedian Stephen Colbert

One of these men holds right-wing conservatives up to ridicule by adopting fringe political positions and making outlandish statements to great comedic effect.
So does the other, but he is a professional comedian.

One of these men ran for public office and, sadly, failed.
The other ran for public office and, sadly, succeeded.

One of these men wants to ban pornography from all internet-connected PCs (except those situated in Parliament offices).
The other freely admits he "loves cock" and molests young children.

One of these men wears an insouciant, childlike expression that hides an agile, intelligent mind.
The other just wears a vacant, childlike expression that hides nothing deeper than a kiddy's wading pool.

One of these men is brilliant.
The other is a complete cock.

Family First, You Are Dickheads

So, Senator Fielding (oh how it hurts to put those two words together) who got about 1% of the primary vote has weighed in on the Government's proposed 'filter' for the internet.

He wants hardcore porn and fetish sites blocked as well.

Because Mums and Dads surely don't look at hardcore porn and fetish sites, surely not, oh no. Only criminals look at porn. Gay atheist single childless lying criminals. They're the only ones that look at porn.

I for one would welcome some magical little box that can automatically stop anyone from accessing child porn, but is it possible (Boogeyman / Alex - TSFKA IT gurus)?

Maybe they could ban Wal's site while they're at it?

But hardcore porn and fetish sites... well, jeez, that's half the internet isn't it? And what's a fetish anyway? It can range from hot goats in bras to women firefighters in uniform to jizzin' on porcupines (www.jizzonspiky.com.be) to, I dunno, whatever... that's the point, and it's all too wide and varied, and much if not all of it could be deemed harmless or even healthy (though I'm yet to find my fetish represented at any site: Someone please make a Hot Bisexual Chick Librarian Goth Richmond Supporters Disciplining Scrawny Men Returning Classical Literature Late Back To The Library fetish site. Typing one-handed already).

But I say to Senator Feilding, there is one fetish I find totally distasteful and I want you to have the sites that feature this fetish closed down, and if you promise to do so I shall support you in your Senatorial lobbying.

The sites feature a mostly naked man being whipped and spiked by burly men in togas until he is bleeding everywhere, then he is hoisted on to a large wooden torture rack and nailed to it through the wrists and ankles while a hooker weeps and washes his feet. Filth!

Senator, you will find it at any Christian or Biblical website.

Wedge Emotional Politics

I have a mate called Fanta who has recently split up with his wife, Sarong. They've been married for 15 years, together for 19 years. No infidelity or nothin' (and no kids either)... just an old fashioned split-up with a garnishing of 'midlife crisis'. He instigated it and left her.

Anyway, I've known Fanta since we were about 5 years old (neighbours as kids) so obviously, I get him in the divorce. Right now, because it's fresh, there's tears and frustrations but no anger from either of them, but that's possibly still to come. But already there's some positioning going on. He came down to stay with me on the weekend, and a couple of days before he arrived, Sarong emailed me with words to this effect...

"I'm worried about him, please talk to him and counsel him, please don't tell him I emailed you, I'll be really upset if you tell him I emailed you, and please report back to me how it all goes."

I did two things. Firstly, I emailed her straight back with words to this effect.

"I have been friends with Fanta for 35 years so I'm not going to hide anything from him, ever, and nor will I spy on him for you. I wish you all the best though. "

Then I forwarded Sarong's email to Fanta.

Which of course caused a kerfuffle.

Fanta tells me that I am not the only one she has emailed. Now in my case, my allegiance is simple, but they have many friends that they met as a couple who don't have an allegiance either way. Sarong has been conctacting all of them, and Fanta claims she is attempting a pre-emptive strike of sorts, or a kind of wedge politics. Right now, their mutual friends are in contact with both both of them, but if it gets nasty... there'll be splits. Often, there just has to be.

Because he left her and not the other way around, he is not in the position to play this wedge politics game, but he also doesn't want to lose friends. Right now, everyone is being adult but it'll happen, sure as the day is bright, that friendships will be burned and sides will be taken.

He asked me to blog on this so as to save money on counselling / travel fees to Jerry Springer Show for, "My Ex Wife Stole All Our Mutual Friends".

An experiences / advice?

The Oz is shit: official.

I was going to write a long, angry post about how shit the Australian newspaper is, but Professor John Quiggin beat me to it.

He's an academic, so he's all erudite and stuff, and it's well worth a look*.

I do like this piece;

The Oz is now essentially worthless as a source of information. Some individual journalists** are still pretty good, and articles with their bylines are worth reading. But if their weather report predicted sunshine, I’d pack an umbrella, just in case.

You tell 'em, Prof.

*He doesn't even use the words "cunt", "owl-fucker" or "Dennis Shanahan". That's how smart he is.

**I'd include our old friend and owl-fancier Christian Kerr in that category but the rest of them are mostly shit.

Not That There’s Anything Wrong With That, Except Everything.

(Sorry, this is long-ish)

The Seventh Day Adventist Church, despite some half-decent philanthropic work and a few truly good-natured individuals, are collectively whack.

As a Church they support what’s known as Young Earth Creationism (the Earth being only 6,000 years old), ‘Intelligent Design’ and they were right in the middle of the ‘Harry Potter is evil’ PR fiasco. Oh, and they ban dancing. Because it leads to sex or something.

It’s little wonder they’re so whack given their origins - they are the offspring of the dumber Millerites.

The Millerites were a group who were convinced that on October 23, 1844, the world would come to the end and they would all ascend to heaven and shit. In Adventist circles, that day is known as ‘The Great Disappointment’.

You see, when the sun rose that morning and the the angels hadn't blown their trumpets and the sinners hadn't been cast into the bowels of Hell, many kind of said, "Oh fuck, how embarrassing," and just got on with their lives.

But, a handful of the particularly retarded Millerites (a little obsessed with numerology and mysticism ‘hidden’ in the bible) actually went on to say that the world had in fact entered a ‘seventh millenium’ on that day. My interpretation of what these arseclowns were saying (after wading through their stupid stupid texts) is that Jesus rocked up to heaven that day and started to mop the floors of Paradise in readiness for the true believers – which is the Seventh Day Adventists.

Not long after The Great Disappointment a disgraceful and bitter hag called Ellen G White started writing a lot of bullshit and she is revered by them as a prophet.

Cut forward to 2008, when the only thing that’s mainstream about this church is their ownership of Sanitarium... most famous for Weet Bix.

They have a fortnightly full colour glossy magazine called ‘Record’ which has a massive readership in Australia, NZ and the South Pacific (26,000) and it is a clever mix of softcore religion and mainstream articles. Earlier in the year they interviewed Sam Mitchell, Captain of Hawthorn, on the topic of ‘Leadership’ and put his square head on the front cover so as to attract non-aligned readers. And so they should -if they are attempting to ‘reach out’ to possible converts.

‘Record’ has a good history of avoiding the more whacky fringe elements of Adventism... all the fire and brimstone shit, and there’s nary a mention of their Young Earth Creationist stance, but at` the same time they tip-toe through issues that would confront their beliefs as well, like evolution, and (finally getting to my point) homosexuality.

This all changed on October 4, 2008, when the new-ish, young and savvy and obviously socially aware senior editor of Record, Nathan Brown, single-handedly tried to drag this dangerous and foul religion into the modern world. He wrote an editorial about homosexuality saying things like:

“From a Christian perspective, the Bible says little about homosexuality. No more than five references...”

“Belying the noise of various Christian activists, it is difficult to argue homosexuality as a specifically important moral issue from a Biblical perspective.”

“Our silence is part of the problem. When the issue is not faithfully, carefully and sensitively addressed, the unspoken pressure to conform to ‘normality’ gives rise to deep-seated personal tension, double lives and dishonest relationships.”

“...homosexual people are people, human beings with hopes, faiths, fears and failings... like us.”

“...they need places to belong and communities in which they can share and grow in faith.”

I would like to link to the article but October 4's edition seems to be mysteriously missing from the Record’s online archives.

Now, obviously, this is just ‘Real Life 101’ for most of us, but not for the Seventh-day Adventists.

Sources from within the church have told me that poor Nathan Brown has copped a hammering from the elders of the church, not to mention the readership of the magazine for which he’s responsible*. ‘Record‘ is not an independent media publication – it is owned and operated by the Church and as such, it has to toe the line.

Which explains the yet-to-be-released November 1 ‘statement’ by the same editor that has been leaked to me.

Here’s some extracts.

“The Adventist Church has a clear position on homosexuality, based on the teachings of the Word of God...”

“Seventh-day Adventists believe that sexual intimacy belongs only within the marital relationship of a man and a woman. This was the design established by God at creation.”

“The Bible makes no accommodation for homosexual activity or relationships.”

“...we regret the misunderstanding surrounding the publication of (the other article)”
*

(If you would like the full articles, email me)

*

This is a fucking disgrace. This is hateful propaganda hiding behind superstitious belief, and it has no place in the modern world.

Seventh-day Adventism is on the way out, surely. They can’t cling to these archaic and vile opinions and expect to last through the 21st Century. And it's a shame, because you'd imagine that amongst the rank and file there's probably normal people, brought up in the church, who know it's whack but can't get a word in.

Religion again, fucking things up.

I say to the Seventh-day Adventist church: “Your time has been and gone. Time to close your shop. Thank you for the Weet Bix, but you can all just fuck off and go away now. You are no longer needed.”


* Allegedly he also received many letters of support, but that’s neither here no there to the Elders.

Punter: "My scruffy shame"

Get a shave, goose.

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE CAPTAIN OF THE AUSTRALIAN TEST TEAM, RICKY PONTING

Punter,

I know things are a bit tough at the moment.

Your batting career seems to be going down the toilet, you’re leading a team that played like a pack of dills and the way we’re going, we’d be hard-pressed to beat the Irish test team, but really – is this any excuse for letting yourself go like this.

I mean, is it really so hard to shave properly.

Get a grip man. What sort of message is this to be sending to the yoof of Australia?

And speaking of yoof.

The Hun today had their front page, a two-page splash and an editorial all devoted to the shenanigans of some Year 12 students at Melbourne’s Xavier College – a posho mick school in the eastern suburbs – because OMG, OMG, OMG, it’s the end of civilisation as we know it.

Or not.

As the case may be.

At least it knocked the Lapthornes off the front page.

Congratulations!

1. ...To 17 year old Gabriella Cilmi who won seven ARIA awards, the premier Australian music industry award. Never heard of her.

2. ...To Amit Mishra, who took 5/71 and almost single-handedly put an end to Australia's 20 years' dominance at the top of world cricket rankings. Never heard of him.

I need to start paying more attention to the world around me.

But most importantly, congratulations to Colin Powell (who of course we all know, but I do like to pronounce his name as 'Coll-in' and not 'Coh-lin' as is the general consensus. I mean Jesus, what's next? "Gee-org-er?" ) for timing his endorsement for Barack Obama perfectly. If he came out six months ago and said it, we'd have forgotten. If he said it two days' out, we'd be cynical. What beautiful timing for a Republican to jump ship? Oh yes, there's the many who'll think it a 'black thing', but, you know, I think it's more a realist thing. Mr. Powell's reputation was shattered a few years ago, and what better way to re-assert his alpha-statesman status by backing a clear winner?

It's not about ethics, because there are none.

This is politics.

I wonder if there's any top advisory jobs going?

(Boogeyman could invest his $2 already.)

Roseanne Barr is a moron.

The following is an angry tirade. It contains frequent strong language and use of the word “fuck-knuckle”. Readers of a nervous disposition may want to skip over and continue reading about Perseus’ love life.

This interview with Roseanne Barr in the Guardian had me roaming the office, biting chucks out of the office furniture in rage.

In particular, this bit;

She believes that society wants women "on anti-depressants so they are no longer creative or fierce". Has she taken anti-depressants? "Oh, hell yeah. There isn't anything that I haven't done. They dull your rage. People don't like angry women so they say, 'We're going to have to drug that bitch to get her to shut up. We will humiliate her and disenfranchise her, but first she has to shut up.' Oh yeah, I did those anti-depressants the last time I was famous. I needed to dull the horror of it.”

Well, I’m sorry about your life Roseanne, but you’re talking shit. Complete shit.

Depression is many things, but it isn’t about being “creative or fierce”. Depression is not about feeling rage, it’s about feeling nothing.

Depression is about feeling you’re falling, endlessly falling and you don’t know how to stop.

Depression is doing the washing-up and finding yourself weeping for no reason.

Depression is about drinking yourself into a stupor in the hope that maybe, just maybe, the terrible howling in your head will stop for a while.

Depression is about sitting out in the backyard after midnight with a bottle of red wine, holding a knife* to your wrist while the little soundtrack in your head says “doitdoitdoitdoit**”.

I’m sick of this stupid myth that anti-depressants will turn you into a zombie, a robot.

Well, it fucking doesn’t – not if you have a good doctor who listens to you. This myth means many people who can get the medical help they need – don’t.

And that’s not something I’d wish on anybody. Not even Roseanne Barr.

*You know that very, very very sharp knife you normally use for slicing up onions and garlic. That one.

**Happily my soundtrack is now “Going Underground” by The Jam. Much better, I’m sure you’ll agree.

Heaven's Got A Place For Country Trash

I went into the big smoke yesterday. Gee, them skyscrapers are mighty big.

My day:

1. Visited a (business) supplier. I said, “You have given my company a credit limit of $2,000. That’s all well and good, except that our average order is $5,000, and therefore, the so-called ‘credit’ is meaningless. We’ve been giving you work and money for three years now, we’re fully up to day with our payments, and I demand that you stop this stupid ‘COD’ rubbish keeping in mind that … Umm, why are you crying?”

“Sorry, one of our staff members suicided, we’re all a bit shattered right now… now, what were you saying about credit?”

“Umm, it doesn’t matter. Sorry.”

2. Went to Nam Loong, one of those off-Chinatown joints that’s cheap, loud, crass, you have to share tables and the wait staff are rude as. For $8 I got the best meal I’ve had in months. In the stupid yuppy seaside tourist town I live, service comes with a smile but $8 won’t even get you an entrée. You don’t realise how lucky you are in cities for having access to such great cooking. The country may provide the produce, but the city provides the meals.

3. For the first time in my life I saw a movie, at a cinema, by myself. I always thought I’d feel like a total loser if I went into a cinema by myself. When other people tell me they’ve been to a cinema by themselves I think they’re cool, but I just never had the courage to do it. Now I’ve done it and my life has changed. It’s fantastic. You can sit where you want, fidget, nobody talks to you… I’m never seeing a film with a friend again. The movie I saw was ‘In Bruges’. Film Review: One big ‘meh’.

4. Caught up win an ex (from 9 years ago) who, for the last 9 years I’ve secretly wished I was still with (even though I ended it at the time, because I was a shallow idiot). We’re still very close friends. She announced her engagement. She has asked me to be ‘MC’ at her wedding. “I’m honoured,” I said, and my task between now and then is to work out how I can MC their wedding without bursting into tears.

5. In the evening, my band went into the studio to do a night of backing vocals for songs we’ve recorded in the past few months. Highlight: Writing in big texta words on a piece of paper, “Oh-law-dee-oh-day-oh-dee-oh” and then taking twenty takes to get it right. There were problems because nobody remembered to bring any cannabis. I don’t smoke pot so I didn’t care (potheads = boring meatheads) but the rest of the band struggled through the process.

6. Hamburger from Embassy Café on Spencer Street at 12.15am. There are no better hamburgers in the world than from this 24hr taxi-driver café. A better hamburger you say? BULL FUCKING SHIT!

7. Grocery shopping at Geelong at 1.15am. Who shops for groceries in working-class country towns at that time? The drugged, the drunk, the insane, the ill-adjusted and the desperately lonely. You want a snapshot of the rubble of Western Society? Shop for groceries in the middle of the night in a country town. Lock the car.

8. Came home at about 3am. Logged on to find Ramon has insulted my friend. I made a lame defense. Fed angry cat and went straight to bed.

9. Couldn't sleep.

But what have the Romans ever done for us?

Minutes of the Socialist Workers Alliance Action Party, North Fitzroy branch.

Comrade Chair: “Comrades, we must take the fight up to the Rudd traitor, sell-out, bourgeois lackey government and declare an immediate general strike*. What have they ever done for us, the bastards?”

Comrade One: “Apologised to indigenous Australians?”

Comrade Chair: “Yes, well…”

Comrade Two: “Signed Kyoto?”

Comrade Chair: “OK, but…”

Comrade Three: “Abolished WorkChoices?”

Comrade One: “Got rid of mandatory detention?”

Comrade Two: “Told the Chinese to pull their heads in?”

Comrade One: “Cut the private insurance companies off the drip-feed?”

Comrade Chair: “OK, OK but apart from Kyoto, the apology, WorkChoices, mandatory detention, human rights and health care reform – what has the Rudd Government ever done for us?”

Comrade One: “Announced a $10 billion package aimed mainly at lower-income earners in a classic piece of Keynesian economic pump-priming?”

Comrade Chair: “Oh, fuck off!”

* It reminds me of that crack by Alexi Sayle. “Why do the SWP always call for a general strike? I mean, the last one was a rip-roaring, gob-smacking success, wasn’t it?”

Some random thoughts on a slow news day

Missy Higgins.

Remember her? The media used to be over her like a cheap suit and now – nothing.

Gone. Disappeared. Vanished.

No great loss, but it strikes me as odd that someone could rise and fall so suddenly.

The Bible code.

Some years ago, some goose came up with a theory that the future could be predicted by analysing certain key phrases in the Bible. Biblical scholars poo-poohed this, yet consider.

The Bible states clearly “thou shall not suffer a witch to live” and three thousand years later we have Wendy Rule and Fiona Horne – both high-profile dickheads witches.

What were the writers of the Bible trying to tell us and what new horrors lurk?

John Pilger/Noam Chomsky – does anybody still take these cunts seriously (apart from Jeff Sparrow, I mean)?

And finally

How do you get girls to like you? I’ve been asking around and results are inconclusive.

That’s it.

Something intelligent tomorrow, maybe.

Sam Elliott was never called an arsehole

Sam Elliott and moustache

Wonderful news comrades, Operation Georges Clemenceau has been given the green light.

The following exchange occurred last night while watching The Golden Compass, featuring Sam Elliott , above.

Me: “One day, I’m going to grow a walrus moustache, like Sam Elliott.”

Mrs INH: “Umm…
…
…
…
“OK”.

There you have it.

As to the film itself, to use a phrase made popular by my old comrade Perseus over at Perseus Q, “fuck it was shithouse”.

The film is based on the first book of Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy; a series which is, apparently, a subtle and nuanced denunciation of God and organised religion.

Well comrades, there were some angry denunciations coming forth from the living room of Lenin House last night but they were only indirectly addressed to the almighty.

The makers of The Golden Compass clearly suffered an attack of the heebie-jeebies* and decided to remove from their film any reference to religion. Or God. Or anything that might make the film interesting or watchable or even vaguely coherent.

In the end we’re left with a film mostly about armoured, talking polar bears and Nicole Kidman.

Of the two, the armoured, talking polar bears were the more believable.

Oh and in other news...

World economy still going to hell in a hand basket, Sarah Palin still corrupt, right-wing lunatic, cat still surly, aggressive.

Hope you lot are all keeping well.

*May not be the correct technical film-making term.