Friday, 27 June 2008


The following clips contain graphic sexual and/or erotic images, concepts and allusions which may be unsuitable for viewing by children.

To prevent the occurrence of any potential trauma developing in the delicate matter of your dearest darlings at some future stage of life, we recommend you install a bunker under the stairs of your home and lock your innocent sweeties in it for 10 or 20 years until all danger has passed, and the deviant miscreants responsible for these outrages against public morality have been duly apprehended, charged and hanged in the town square.

From 1980, Kate Bush “Babooshka”

From 1976, Blondie “In The Flesh”

Wednesday, 25 June 2008


Andrew Bolt and his flock of flying fuckwits certainly love to whip themselves up into a seething frenzy of stupidity over the merest whiff of a non-story on a regular basis, and here they go again ...

... A couple of publicity-deprived Islamic ratbags have stated that they'd like to see
polygamy allowed by law in Australia. So, as far as Bolt and his monkeys are concerned, sharia law - it's on der cards, run fer da hills, stock up on dried goods, and grabs yerselves a gun or six to protect der wimmin and chillun from der impending eeeeee-vil dat stalks der land ...

What a load of bullshit.

...There are all sorts of dickheads in this country who'd like to see all sorts of things made law, and all sorts of other things banned ...

... Whenever a particularly ghastly crime is committed and reported, a whole bunch of them call for the re-introduction of the death penalty ... Whenever teens misbehave, another bunch of hardnuts holler for the re-introduction of the draft ... There are people who'd insist that religion be a compulsory class in public schools, that creationism be taught in science and evolutionary theory not; that we close our shores to immigration from people of colour; that we deport the ones already here; that smokers be denied medical treatment ... Frankly, there are far too many stupid ideas, theories and propositions floating about on any given day from any number of ridiculously silly tosspots than can possibly be countenanced here, and all the time in the world wouldn't permit a comprehensive summation of them ...

... Needless to say, every ideology, whether religious or political in nature has its fair share of thoroughly unhinged knobjockeys, noisy little turds who pop up on a regular basis to grab a headline or three by saying something patently stupid, leaving the more moderate of their kind to shake their heads in astonished wonder and despairingly mutter to themselves, "Ah, shit. Here we fucking go again." ...

... Inevitably, the ratbags will take it upon themselves to insist they "represent the community" or are "spokespeople" for it, when essentially, they represent no one but themselves and their own hard-core adherants and whackily whacked-out admirers - a minority, in other words ... and one begging for attention, from anyone, over anything, and, preferably, all the time ...

... Most men and women of faith however are quietly content to practice and observe their beliefs in a manner and fashion that brings them comfort. That is why they chose it. They seek not to impose it on, or bother and irritate others with their beliefs, even those who may well be members of the very same club. Many Catholics will practise contraception and so they should if they so choose. George Pell's view is an irrelevancy to them. Many Anglicans have no problem whatsoever with the existence of gay men and women in their midst, and so should they not if they want. Peter Jensen rules not in their church. Many Buddhists probably get thoroughly pissed off from time to time too, and may well have had occasion to swat at a dive bombing mosquito in the dead heat of a summer night. Good for them ...

... And many Muslims would not want a bar of Sheikh Khalil Chami and Keysar Trad's absurdly stupid notions, preferring instead that both of them would simply shut the fuck up and stop making people of their faith look like a ratpack of whining, radical dickwads ...

... They, like we others of a less hysterical bent, would realise immediately that such a proposition will never be adopted or promoted by any Australian politician from any party at any time, and that it is, instead, a rather sad bleat for attention from a couple of fools, Trad having had his taste of media fame after lurking about in the fevered wake of Sheik Taj Din al-Hilali's "uncovered meat"
statements of 2006 and having been reduced to public irrelevancy ever since his pal was told to fuck off and shut up ...

Unfortunately, Bolt and his sour-milk-fed creche of cretins can't see that, so enamoured are they of their own brand of ideologically driven perpetual hysteria.

It's a non-story. It'll never happen. Bet on it. Move on.

And take your meds.

Tuesday, 24 June 2008


9 a.m.



Sharp metal poking sticks. Sticks that scrape. Sticks that go “whirr”.

Poke. Poke. Prod. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Poke. Poke. Prod. Scrape. Scrape. Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke. Scrape. Poke. Poke. Pain. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Pain. Stop. Pain. Ouch. Stop. Ouch. Pain. Please. Kill. Me. Now.

For 45 minutes. Feet trying to twist themselves off ankles. Hands grabbing armrests. Sweat through shirt in 22 degree weather. Finally. Over. Wobble off chair. Wobble out to reception. Extract debit card from wallet. In a wobbly fashion. Wobble off. Less 200 bucks.

See you again in 4 months.

Yeah. Good. Can’t wait.

Below - Chucking a wobbly ...


... Wobbly chucked.

From 1986, Steve Martin “The Dentist Song” from “Little Shop of Horrors”

Friday, 20 June 2008


Dario Argento has a new film coming out, “Mother of Tears” ...

The line, “Who wants to eat the girl?” is destined for greatness. Fucking priceless.

From 2007, Dario Argento “Mother of Tears” trailer


My published contribution to the letters page of today’s Sydney Morning Herald ...

Re the Senate inquiry into swearing on television, I am more than happy to help the industry "clarify what is meant by the terms "occasional, some and frequent" coarse language" for the benefit of Senator Bernardi. Occasional – Sometimes; Some - A bit; Frequent - Often. Can I have my cheque now, please?

Thursday, 19 June 2008


AN expletive-laden episode of celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay's TV show has prompted a Senate committee to recommend changes to the way we all watch television.

From now on, we shall all be required to don three-piece dinner suits and stand on our fucking heads.

The report, unanimously endorsed by the committee, recommended parental lock-out systems should be made an industry standard for all digital televisions sold in Australia.

Oh, joy. Yes, please. Let's lock out the parents. They can throw a blanket over the Hills Hoist and sleep on the fucking grass from now on.

The report also recommended broadcasters should consider permanently displaying the classification symbol of a program on screen.

Nothing like another little symbol on the fucking tube to burn out your screen in one specific spot.

The industry should also clarify what is meant by the terms "occasional, some and frequent" coarse language, it said.

Occasional = Sometimes. Some = A bit. Frequent = Often.

Bad mood was getting better. Now worse. Need beer. Now.


From “The New Yorker”, "One Angry Man" by Peter J. Boyer on Keith Olbermann ...

[Olbermann] wrote ...

"Mr. Bush, I hate to break it to you six and a half years after you yoked this nation and your place in history to the wrong war in the wrong place, against the wrong people, but the war in Iraq is not about you. . . . It is not, Mr. Bush, about your golf game! And, sir, if you have any hopes that next January 20th will not be celebrated as a day of soul-wrenching, heartfelt thanksgiving, because your faithless stewardship of this presidency will have finally come to a merciful end, this last piece of advice . . . when somebody asks you, sir, about your gallant, noble, self-abnegating sacrifice of your golf game so as to soothe the families of the war dead. This advice, Mr. Bush: Shut the hell up!"

Phil Griffin, the senior vice-president in charge of MSNBC ..., raised the matter of tone. Why did Olbermann need to end his commentary by telling the President of the United States to “shut the hell up”?

“Because I can’t say, ‘Shut the fuck up,’ that’s why, frankly,” Olbermann responded.

This pleases me. Mood improving. Time for food.


I am fucking sick and fucking tired of CGI superhero and “epic” movies. They’re fucking crap, pretty much all of them. Slick, sleek, soulless lumps of shit shoved together by twitchy packs of arrested adolescent dickheads with bad skin permanently hopped up to the gills on a steady diet of Coke and triple-cheese, stuffed crust pizzas and Twinkies, their sweaty fucking hands forever fiddling about with their fucking joysticks and fucking function buttons ...

“Hey man, if you F8-Shift-Control-Alt then Left Open Square Bracket Close Right Bracket and hit Enter, you can make a Roman!”

“Way cool, dude.”

Go stab yourselves, the whole fucking lot of you.

I’ll take
George Reeves’ “Superman” any day over Brandon or Brendon whatshisname.

And you can shove
“Gladiator” up your fucking clacker as well and run “Spartacus” instead thank you very much. At least Kirk Douglas knew he was only making a fucking movie, unlike Russell fucking Crowe who thought he was starring in his own autobiographical adventures, the tedious little twat.

Happily, I find I am not alone in my views ...

Paul Byrnes from the Sydney Morning Herald on “The Incredible Hulk” ...

“These guys have crafted more movie superheroes than anyone would have thought possible, or desirable. I wish they would stop. I am sick of superheroes. I'd like to see a movie about an under-performing hero or just someone who didn't go weird on the full moon. Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Wolverine, even Clark Kent just won't go away. They are a blight on the movie landscape: overblown, banal, numbingly noisy epics of emptiness aimed at the desperate American desire for righteous heroes.

The finale, in New York City - where else? - has two mutants duking it out, rather than one, just as in Iron Man (and 50 other superhero-mutant hero movies). lf there is anything duller than two computer-generated giants fighting each other, I have yet to see it. It's like two bags of marbles being thrown against each other for 20 minutes.

These movies are as tiring as kryptonite.”


And Peter Bradshaw from The Guardian is hilariously scathing about same ...

"Hulk. Smash!" Yes. Hulk. Smash. Yes. Smash. Big Hulk smash. Smash cars. Buildings. Army tanks. Hulk not just smash. Hulk also go rarrr! Then smash again. Smash important, obviously. Smash Hulk's USP. What Hulk smash most? Hulk smash all hope of interesting time in cinema. Hulk take all effort of cinema, effort getting babysitter, effort finding parking, and Hulk put great green fist right through it. Hulk crush all hopes of entertainment. Hulk in boring film. Film co-written by star. Edward Norton. Norton in it. Norton write it. Norton not need gamma-radiation poisoning to get big head. Thing is: Hulk head weirdly small. Compared with rest of big green body ...

... Critic remember Ang Lee version. Ang Lee version slagged off. Yet rubbish new Hulk film make that look like Citizen Kane. Critic exit cinema miffed. Film take away two hours of critic's life. Critic not get time back. Ever. Rarrrrr."

I know how he feels.

“Rarrrr” indeed.

God, I’m in a filthy frame of mind today. Did I mention?


Here she fucking goes again, Miranda Devine, self-anointed spiritual leader of the sensible shoes, twin-set and pearls perpetual puritan practitioners of professional hysterics set, lurching back and forth, back and forth, back and fucking forth between her dual obsessions of the day – drugs and porn, drugs and porn, drugs and fucking porn.

Today, it’s fucking drugs again with Darling Devine whipping herself into another fucking snit over
an information booklet for teens about illegal drugs ...

Let’s get something into your thick fucking head, you stupid fucking bint ...

No one in their right fucking mind wants their kids to be spending their time pulling fifty bongs a day behind the school toilet block or dropping a dozen ecstasy tabs during an early morning session of Video fucking Hits ...

... However, if a teenager, whether they be 15 or 19 or even 25, find themselves in a situation where illegal drugs are on offer and they choose to partake, it is far better for them that they be reliably and sensibly informed as to what it is they may be about to consume and what effects and potential dangers the consumption of said drug may produce than to be endlessly hollered at by a bunch of saggy-titted, dreary middle-aged ideologically-addicted irrelevancies furiously flapping about like so many whirling dervishes on a carousel in a fucking hurricane screaming, “Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!” ...

She writes ...
"Among "a few tips that might help" in the brochure is advice to "use only small amounts and not too often" ...

Yeah, right. Shocking stuff. Like, totally, yeah, right, no, yeah, like, WOW, Miranda!


She goes on ... “
To be fair, the brochure also states: "The best way to keep your head together is not to use drugs at all." But it immediately goes on: "BUT, if you choose to experiment …"

“To be fair” ... Well, that’s like, rooly, rooly generous of you deary. What part of “The best way to keep your head together is not to use drugs at all” hasn’t quite penetrated your thick fucking head exactly?

I tell ya what, you sensibly stylish little luvvie you, why don’t you send a copy to Glenn Milne ... I reckon he could do with a
little helpful advice.

Stupid cunt.

Have I mentioned what a foul fucking mood I happen to be in today?


“An exhibition by the Australian artist Mike Parr, which includes a film showing a live chicken being decapitated, has prompted a complaint to the RSPCA and a visit from police.”

For Christ's sakes, it's a fucking chicken, not a baby on a fucking stick.

People hack the heads off millions of fucking chickens every day of the fucking week and shove 'em into fucking ovens for fucking food.

What the fuck do people think they're going to see at a fucking
Mike Parr exhibition anyway, for fuck's sake?

Fucking paintings of bowls of fucking fruit?

Jesus Christ, I’m in a bad mood today ...

Friday, 13 June 2008


As splendidly splenetic as ever ...

Thursday, 12 June 2008


It's not often that I manage to whip through a 500 page novel in 2 sittings, but that's precisely what I did manage on the weekend with John Ajvide Lindqvist's novel of contemporary vampirism in Sweden, "Let The Right One In".

This is not, in any sense of the word, a "typical" vampire story, and potential readers may well be put off by the novel's by-line, "A Vampire Love Story" which may indicate the book to be some sort of ghastly cod-gothic Anne Rice rubbish. Nothing could be farther from the truth ...

... Set in 1981, it is the tale of Oskar, a much put-upon incontinent 13 year old boy, bullied, tortured and alienated at school, who, when he finds the chance, is taken to working out his pent-up frustrations and anger by stabbing trees in a nearby forest with a knife, all the while imagining the trees to be his much-loathed tormenters. Living alone with his mother in a drab and characterless housing estate in the Stockholm suburb of Blackeberg, the closest he has to a friend is 16 year old petty thief Tommy, who spends much of his time avoiding his own mother's new boyfriend (a devoutly religious, faintly ridiculous and potentially violent cop) by retreating to the apartment block basement to sniff glue and petrol and flip through porn magazines ...

... And then, Oskar meets Eli who, with her father, has just moved in to the apartment next door. Eli is a rake thin 10 or 12 year old girl who speaks in a voice and with a knowledge that sits rather uncomfortably with her apparent youth. She also smells quite strange and her appearance on any given night can range from the disheveled and sickly to the ethereal ...

... This is a bleak and chilly novel indeed, and it would be bordering on the nihilistic were it not for the tender and sensitive rendering of the awkward relationship that blooms between Oskar and Eli, that relationship being the sole thing that infuses the book with warmth, hope and the promise of redemption. Despite what we know about Eli, what we come to know and what we know will keep on coming, we, as readers, can wish her no ill ...

... And much of this may be due to the fact that, with little exception, the adults in this book are thoroughly fucked up, miserable individuals who spend most of their lives in an alcoholic fog of cynical self-absorption and emotional denial. There are no happy family folk to be found lurking within these dark pages, that’s for damn sure ...

... (And with its disturbing undercurrents of pedophilia and teenage sexuality, it’s a wonder that Australia’s self-anointed guardian of the public moral and protector-general of “our children”,
Hetty Johnston, has not scattered her hysterically feverish minions throughout the land to rip the book from the shelves, yet, happily, she remains oblivious to its existence, preferring to lurk and lurch about in fucking art galleries for now) ...

... There are some excellent set-pieces in the book, moments of vividly described grand and grotesque guignol, a few of which may strain credibility, but for the most part, they work and work well (the flatful of cats scene is a hair-raiser), and the book concludes precisely as we would wish it.

That it has now been made into a feature film comes as no surprise, and, though the movie has yet to go into widespread commercial distribution, its inclusion in a number of film festivals (including the current
Sydney Film Festival) has already garnered it much praise ...

Marlow Stern from Film Review Manhattan Movie Magazine

"With its deft mix of horror and a heartwarming love story, it comes as no surprise that the movie won the big prize – The Founder Award for Best Narrative Feature – at the 2008 Tribeca Film Festival."

Scott Weinberg from Cinematical

“Suffice to say that Let the Right One In is a pretty unique beast, and it's a flick that would NEVER arrive via the Hollywood studio system, seeing as how it deals with hardcore gore, pre-teen sexuality, and some rather nasty kid-on-kid violence. And yet, for a movie that has a lot of dicey components, it sure comes off as a really sweet story. That's not just good filmmaking; that's real intelligence behind the camera.”

... An American remake or adaptation is currently slated, and, as is always the way with such things, I expect they’ll thoroughly fuck it up. Let’s hope we get the opportunity to view the original (unfortunately, there doesn’t appear to be a subtitled trailer available yet, so we shall have to make do with the Swedish version for now) ...

From 2008, “Let The Right One In” Trailer

Wednesday, 11 June 2008


Oh, woe. Dey seek him here, dey seek him there, wherefore he be, and whyfore he not be wherefore he should be at when he be wherefore we wanted him before and now he be there and not here ...

KEVIN RUDD has been criticised for failing to meet the Dalai Lama during his visit to Sydney this week, leaving the official meeting to a relative unknown, Senator Chris Evans.

A spokesman for Mr Rudd said the Prime Minister, who is in Japan, could not arrange a meeting because he was not returning to Canberra until Sunday night and the Dalai Lama was to leave on Monday morning.

The Opposition Leader, Brendan Nelson, has agreed to a meeting, and yesterday a spokesman for him questioned why Mr Rudd was not doing the same.

"Kevin Rudd met with the Dalai Lama as opposition leader. Why wouldn't he now? Dr Nelson will meet him, just as the opposition leader did 12 months ago."
Okay, Brendan. Listen carefully now ... What part of, "He's not meeting him because he's not in the fucking country right now, he's in Japan for a week" has yet to penetrate that sorry, soggy addled little peanut of yours?



So, not only does Federal Government MP Belinda Neal not swear, she's also in the habit of striking up random conversations with vicars ...

By the way, did you know that "Hamlet" was written by a monkey? Also, Hannibal Lecter's a vegetarian.

From ?, Terry Jones & the BBC “Flying Penguins”

Friday, 6 June 2008


Isn’t classical music pleasant? Isn’t it nice?

And classical art? Isn’t it sweet?

Quite lovely, yes ... quite ... unintrusive.

A balm for the soul in these horrid, troubled times where mankind, his ribs, and civilisation itself teeters on the brink of moral destruction and infernal, infinite purgatory ...


I don’t mind classical music. I even own some (though I can well do without opera, as that particularly ghastly form of singing makes me want to bash puppies). I’m quite partial to 20th / 21st century Estonian composer
Arvo Pärt, for example. And classical art doesn’t bother me in the least. Landscapes and portraits and such, sweeping vistas and rolling hills and bowls of fruit and scrummy vegetables and lovingly rendered depictions of various young and old men and women, their every fold of flesh dripping delightfully with all manner of just-dicky detail. It’s all very inoffensive and unthreatening really, isn’t it?

Poncing about on the innyweb the other day, I landed at the London Review of Books and began reading a few articles (as one does),
this one to be precise, and was struck by a comment from the reviewer ...

“As an apprenticeship in dissidence, a childhood sacrificed to classical music is hard to beat. Classical music is always acceptable to authority because it cannot overtly challenge power with subversive ideas or disturbing representations. Parents and states know they are on safe ground when their children or subjects are playing Mozart or Schubert – and enjoying it.”

And so it is with visual art. Thus, Bill Henson was not acceptable to authority, and should not be acceptable to us who do not regard ourselves as authorities, authority in this case resting only in one professional paranoid hysteric, and two of the nation’s most ridiculously populist creative typists who continue (mistakenly) to refer to themselves as “journalists”.

Hetty Johnston and Andrew Bolt and Miranda Devine, may I say to you all with deep and heartfelt sincerity, from the very bottom of my soul ...

Suck it up, cunts.


In my teenage years during the 1970's this guy was my favourite author, his stories and opinions being a seminal influence upon my own views at the time, many of which still prevail to this very day, though I've read nothing by him for many, many years ... He appears to have done very little over the last decade or so beyond republishing his short stories in new anthologies and formats ...

But now, someone's made a movie about him ... and the
reviews are rather good.

From 2008, Harlan Ellison “Dreams With Sharp Teeth” Trailer & Clip


Tuesday, 3 June 2008


I am currently unwell and just couldn’t be arsed for a few days.

So, whoever you are, watch this clip instead. It beats getting tied up in knots over the continuing frenzy about Bill Henson ...

... Somebody has put together a clip using footage from various Hollywood films and set it to the tune of Iggy Pop’s “The Passenger”. I think it works a treat ...

From 1977, Iggy Pop “The Passenger”