Archive for October, 2009

This biscuit will gas your baby

On occasions all too rare in Australia, on occasions all too infrequent (which means “all too rare”), one man (or a woman, if you insist) will rise above the seething mass of anonymous humanity, will rise above the tide of the ordinary and the average and, with a few wise and well-chosen words, strike at the very root of complacency that lies within the hearts and souls of us all to awaken the otherwise dull minions of humankind to the presence of darkest evil lurking in our midst.

Today, such a man is Sam Watson, deputy director of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies Unit at the University of Queensland.

Mr. Watson implores us all to realise …

THIS BISCUIT WILL GAS YOUR BABY.

This biscuit will rape your mother, sodomise your wife, gouge the eyes from the nodding head of your old, gray papa and inject the veins of your first born with a mixture of dishwashing liquid and food dye.

This is one evil motherfucking biscuit.

It will skin your dog, flay your cat, and throw your goldfish into the compost heap.

This is the biscuit that other biscuits fear to share a tin with.

It will blow up bridges, drain harbours, bring down tall buildings and kill off the stock exchange with one bite.

This is the Bernie Madoff of biscuit bastardry.

This biscuit will invade Poland.

At the peak of its deranged megalomania, this biscuit will imagine it’s a full size Weston’s Wagon Wheel and roll into Russia.

Who will stop this biscuit?

Who will stand with Mr. Watson and, in trenches dug deep, fight alongside this brave and outspoken warrior for justice in his fearless quest to bring about an end to the evils of Biscuitism once and for all?

We did think of asking the ANZACS, but they crumbled. As usual.

Fucking losers.

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You’ll Love Coles Godwin’s

Is it possible to call Godwin’s on biscuits?

The left-wing MSM is ablaze with the news of the apparent racial conotations of the  “You’ll Love Coles Creole Biscuits”. For those confused, like your beloved Internet mole, some university guy was around to clear everything up:

“The word Creole comes from a period when people’s humanity was measured by the amount of white blood they had in their bloodstream. This is the same kind of thought that underpinned horrific regimes like the Nazis,” Mr Watson said.

Of course. The same kind of thought that lead to “horrific regimes” also concocted a form of biscuit, beloved by the elderly. Is there anything Hitler isn’t capable of? It’s a wonder Mr. Watson hasn’t shone his investigative torch on exactly where the precious metal in “You’ll Love Coles Gold Bullion” comes from.

Remember – everytime your children take a bite of these biscuits, they’re supporting Nazism! Coles have been raising a generation of little Hitlers behind your back! Is it merely a coincidence that this has arisen only a week after the BNP’s Nick Griffin appeared on the BBC?

And while we’re at it, has Mr. Watson considered the feelings of the Allen’s Retro Party Mix mascot?

Retro Party Mix

This fellow is a member of the same brutal regime that lead to the proliferation of disco music – a far worse crime.

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My drug hell

Hi everybody!

My name is Ross! And this here’s the tale of My Drug Hell!

Now, there’s been times in my life when I’ve taken an illegal drug and even though I’m feelin’ rootin’-tootin’ right now, I’m pretty dang sure my past criminal behaviour and degenerate indulgences will come back anyday now and bite me somethin’ fierce on my ass. Why, this time tomorrow my whole body could erupt in a sea of festering ulcers and suppurating sores and boils spitting out stringy spumes of custard coloured pus fifty inches high and I’d have to spend the rest of my life sleeping on rubber sheets and use up all my retirement money on paper towels just cause I took some drugs back in the day.

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The complete gayification of men

Blow me down but almost on a daily basis I read and see blokes being turned into pansies by bloody wankers. One thing that kickstarted this trend a few years back was the (what the Yanks call) “popping” of the collar of the polo shirt. Wayne likes to call them “erect polo shirt collars” because as he says “bloody blokes pop their polo shirt collars and bloody poofters get erect”.

Then Nivea started taking over the shelving where the Bic razers should be at the local Tuckerbag and now its all over red rover. We just got over the fucken fo Hawk and now we have to put up with this rubbish:

Introducing the ‘Mirdle’.

“When it comes to underwear men are the new women…

Need I quote on before I fucken spew up creamed corn.  Now, Im a man of action and I’m a man who likes to be a bloke. I have one piece of information for these so called “men” who get around with “Mirdles” on and base makeup and other calven Klein wears – women don’t fancy you.

Women like proper blokes who don’t shave all the time and who look a bit rough around the edges. So if yourve got a bit of a belly from drinking tinnies and eating pies then be proud because it’s better than hiding behind some peice of elastic some “designer” designed because they didn’t have the guts to do a few sit ups in case they would break a fingernail.

What’s next? A “Mildo”?

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Steve’s 7.30 Report audition tapes

In the comments of my earlier Fielding post, Tobias Ziegler reminded us about the magnificent Uncle Steve’s Home Movies series (just like Uncle Arthur’s from The Comedy Company but crapper) from a couple of years back. There was a doorknocking video, a swimming carnival video, a bottle suit video and a recycling video to name but a few.

So I went looking for these cinematic masterpieces to chuck a couple of links in the comments after Tobias’ reminder, but unfortunately those movies are no longer on Steve’s website. Fortunately, however, a few of them are still on my computer hard drive. So here they are complete with shitty advertising message from the free program I used to download them originally. Think of these as Steve’s audition for the 7.30 Report.

The Bottle Suit:

The Dawn Service (plus a picture of Steve interrupting everyone to film his fillum):

The Yarra Vox Pop:

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Leaked Age memo

Although I have a severe case of shortsightedness, even I have noticed the decline in Melbourne’s quality broadsheet The Age over the last few years. I did some digging and discovered some shocking directives from management:

From: [Age board member]

To: Staff

Please make note of the following demands to ensure the quality of The Age is destroyed and I can retire to Tahiti with a harem of teenage girls:

1. Lattes

The latte count recently is spectacularly low. Over the past month there have only been 15 articles about where to find Melbourne’s best coffee and several of those articles mentioned cafes past Hawthorn. Are there even houses out there? Lift your game.

2. Melbourne vs. Sydney

Our research tells us most Melbournians don’t care about fake battles with Sydney. We will change this by having at least seven articles a week on the theme of “Melbourne vs. Sydney”. Remember, we’ve got football, coffee and Catherine Deveny. Sydney is full of convicts and bad writers. Which reminds me…

3. Catherine Deveny

More Catherine Deveny articles on suburbs she hates (i.e any suburb past Collingwood). People in the outer suburbs don’t read. They just buy The Age for the funny cartoons. To that end:

4. More Bristow

I love that little guy. So relevant and edgy!

5. Celebrity news

Why isn’t there more celebrity news on Theage.com.au? I’m tired of having to dig through this war/politics stuff to find out about Lindsay Lohan’s vagina’s twitter stream. We’re working on hiring Perez Hilton to replace Michelle Grattan but until then, just delete The New York Times from your bookmarks and start reading Who Weekly.

If these changes are made I am confident we can turn this ship around!

[Board member]

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Steve can have his interview, on one condition …

Last week in Senate Estimates the Liberal Party stopped grilling the ABC’s Mark Scott about Kerry O’Brien’s salary long enough for Family First’s Steve Fielding to make a complete idiot of himself. Again. If there’s one thing that unites Labor and the Coalition it must surely be a joint love of watching Fielding routinely embarrass himself just by opening his mouth. This chunk of transcript (PDF) deserves to be quoted in full; it’s just like the part of an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry David keeps digging and digging himself into a terribly cringe-worthy situation instead of just shutting his mouth.

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Those poor banks

He may have campaigned in 2007 as an economic “conservative”, but Rudd proved himself a skilled reader of public sentiment when, in February of this year, he declared that he was a ‘social democrat’ in his now-famous essay in The Monthly. At the time, various commentators in the media, as well as Kevin Rudd and Wayne Swan predicted rising unemployment and a period of recession. This prediction has, in technical terms, at least, failed to come to pass, but less than six months after the first shock waves of the GFC hit the world economy, few doubted that the worst was in store.

Rudd identified the tasks of his newly social-democratic government: “credit-market regulation, intervention, and demand-side stimulus in the economy”. The first of these – regulation of the finance sector – has the banks weeping and wailing before it has even begun. Nobody should believe that “regulation” can act as a panacea to stave off risk, in an inherently crisis-prone economic system. Nonetheless, the same newspapers that fudge the facts in the news section can sometimes refrain from bullshit in the business section, and that appears to be the case here. In other words, the same banks whose deposits were kindly guaranteed by the Rudd government are now seeking to avoid regulation because it may hurt “profitability”.

Admittedly, it was not Australian financial institutions that caused the GFC. All the same, we have seen the evidence, all around the world, of ordinary people being laid to waste, financially speaking, as a result of the recklessness of their nation’s banks. As Kenneth Davidson put it in today’s paper (in the context of bubbles in both the currency and housing prices), “there should be control of financial institutions”. Just who should be doing the controlling is a question that Davidson tactfully does not answer.

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Brendan Nelson upstaged till the end

You have to feel for Brendan Nelson, who was once just one step, plus a political generation and an additonal 49 per cent approval points, from being the Prime Minister of the Commonwealth of Australia.

It’s sad that a man who is a doctor, wore an earring, rides a motorbike and plays guitar was never a serious contender for the highest office of the land (if you don’t include AFL CEO).

Even sadder was the way he spent his last day in his electorate; holding up a hastily written sign saying “thank you” to the people of Bradfield whom he served for 14 years.

Through a teary eye and endlessly furrowed brow, he must have felt heartened as passing drivers beeped their horns, blissfully unaware that someone had written “honk if you’re horny” on his placard.

Sadder still was Brendan’s going away party, where as guest of honour he was upstaged by estranged partners John Howard and Peter Costello.

You have to feel for Brendan. Who hasn’t had a party where they had to invite a couple of friends who just split up, only for that to become the biggest issue?

I can imagine him calling John Howard to invite him Little Johnny saying “eeeh, will Peter be there?”

“Yes John,” replies Brendon.

“Do I have to sit near him?”

“No, you don’t even have to talk to him. You’re both my friends so please don’t make me choose. Do it for me. Please?”

A similar conversation probably ensued with the former treasurer

“Is he bringing that bitch Jeanette?” Pete may or may not have asked.

The Australian reported that when Howard and Costello were reunited in their first public appearance together since the 2007 election loss and Brendan’s soiree there were no outstretched hands from either man when they came within range.

Jesus, there must be some really bad blood there.

In Liberal Party terms that’s as serious as what happened at my friend Livio’s 18th birthday party; attended by then newly separated couple Mick Wikowski and Sharon Zammit.

Sharon threw West Coast Cooler in Mick’s face when she saw him chatting up another girl. Mick, his eyes burning, called Sharon a slut causing her to throw a plastic chair at him. Boy was Livio’s mum angry.

Let’s hope Brendan had a good night and was able to secure the limelight long enough before all the talk was on whether or not Johnny would attend Pete’s farewell.

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Get your knob or blood sucked

For those who don’t know me I am (what is known) in some circles as the “Topical Debator of the year”. But rather than look in the mirror and see my own reflection I would like to blow the lid off a story where peoples ideas are confused with missing the real story.

Most people who read Melbourne’s top circulating news and analysis publication what used to be known as the Sun (in the morinings) and the Herald (in the night) the Herald Sun is stoking the story of Melbournes underworld crimes and darkside.  One of the lesser known story’s that has been doing the rounds for sometime is the case over the murder of a vampire/male prostitute called Shane Chartres Abbot or Shane Abbot or Trixie as he was known in Banana Alley where he would turn tricks in some fanstastic looking gowns and wigs and makeup and hang upside down. His skin glimmered in gold speckeled moisturiser like the Vampire from “Twilight”.

Why the coppers really want to bury this one is that the vampire prostitiute was what is known as a “dog” not be confused with a warewolf (but he was first and for most a vampire/prostitute). He was giving the coppers secret information and informing on crims and was also being blackmaled.

Now the coppers want to charge a bloke called Mark Adrian Perry with his murder. Now in my capacity as an advocate (I half been a character witness for my dickhead brother Wayne on many occasions) I would like to take the side of Mark Adrian Perry. Why do youse aske? Well how the fuck do the coppers know the vampire hooker is dead? Was a steak found at the scene? Was his head removed? Was there the smell of garlic and or crosses? Was there a pile of ashes were his body once lay?

Now as you pick your preconcieved thoughts about this story up off the floor, I bet none of you though thought of that. And that’s what the coppers are counting on to because they are as bent as Wayne’s knob.

In Hollywood and on the tv Vampires are the flavour of the month at the moment but is seems that the truth is that under Melbourne and possibly in the vaults of Banana Alley, Vampires are getting blackmaled by the coppers and blokes are being charged with murder who have not done the crime. Youse be the judges?

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