WHEN ONLY THE RIGHT WILL DO

This grubby little cunt's desperate effort to turn a racist, anti-semitic madman's violence into something symbolic of "leftist" hate is the latest example of the rising din of stupidity and hysteria from those who call themselves "conservative" and "right-wing" and labour under the delusion that violence is, and can only ever be, endemic to the "left".

There's certainly no hate here, is there? ...



No, no, no, there's no hate on this side of the political spectrum. Never has been. They're sweet and cuddly little sunbeams for Jesus.

These are the type of people who give rational-minded conservatives a bad name. Whether one is of the "right", or of the "left", neither side can claim for themselves a monopoly on sanity and common sense as there are fruitloops batting for both teams and it's the fruitloops who always holler the loudest and for the longest time, attracting attention simply by virtue of their ability to throw fistfuls of shit about on a regular basis like so many monkeys in a cage.

And their existence, their actions and their views soil the minds, the souls and spirits of those of us on each side of the spectrum who are not so arrogantly convinced of our righteous infallibility in all things that we may claim all evil and all that is and has been bad in the world is the fault of one side and one side only.

For to do so would be to reveal oneself as a vacuous, drooling, twitching and ignorant imbecile of the highest order.

As for Bolt, well, fuck him. A gutter-dwelling, dog-whistling grub of the lowest order, a talentless and spectacularly banal hack who is to journalism what Jacqueline Susann once was to literature.

Popular in their time, but barely relevant to anyone and anything after it.

It's not journalism. It's not reportage. It's not even analysis. It's the sound of a man way out of time and way out of place whistling vintage tunes out of his arse, expecting his acolytes to gather round for a sing-along while someone resembling Walter Brennan plays pianola in a bar.

It's crap.

And I can't read any more of it.

Therefore ...

Bookmark deleted.

Life's too short, and there are better things to do with it.

I WISH I'D WRITTEN THAT ... PT.2*

Never a truer word has been written …

From "The Onion"'s article of August 6, 2008 "Local Idiot To Post Comment On Internet" ...

HAZEL PARK, MI—In a statement made to reporters earlier this afternoon, local idiot Brandon Mylenek, 26, announced that at approximately 2:30 a.m. tonight, he plans to post an idiotic comment beneath a video on an Internet website ...

... Mylenek, who rarely in his life has been capable of formulating an idea or opinion worth the amount of oxygen required to express it, went on to guarantee that the text of his comment would be misspelled to the point of incomprehension, that it would defy the laws of both logic and grammar, and that it would allege that several elements of the video are homosexual in nature ...

... "We are blessed to be living in an age when we have a global communications network in which idiots, assholes, and total and complete wastes of fucking human life alike can come together to give instant feedback in an unfettered and unmonitored online environment," Mylenek said. "What better way to take advantage of this incredible technology than to log onto the Internet and insult a complete stranger?" ...

According to media critic Judy Turner, this type of behavior is not uncommon among idiots.

"Brandon's comments in particular contain a degree of unoriginality and stupidity that you only see in the most muttonheaded and imbecilic Internet commenters," Turner said. "In fact, I've seen him use at least a dozen variations of the word 'gay.' Suffice it to say, Brandon Mylenek is a truly stupid, stupid idiot."

Mylenek concluded his press conference with a solemn vow to uphold the awful, unintelligible, anger-inducing quality of his past Internet comments.

"I promise everyone that this post will be exactly what you have come to expect from an idiot like myself," he said, "and that I will check my comment regularly so that I can call everyone who says it's stupid a fag.

Sums up the so-called "blogosphere" quite nicely, don't it?

Interactive technology. Feedback. Your say. Your comment.

…

…

…

…

…

…

IT ALL SUKS G!R!E!E!N!I!E FAGGETS WHAYLE DIK!!!!!!!!.

LOLS!!!!!!!!!!!#!#!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)D




*Part 1 is here, if you could be arsed. I couldn’t. That’s why this is such a lazy bloody excuse for a blog post. Anyway, I’m very busy …

… Well, it’s my fuckin’ blog! Oh yeah? Fuck off. Go on!? Fuck off! You can’t answer me, can you? You’re a fucking liar! Come here and say that! Oh, yeah? YEAH?!!!

Cross this line. Come on, cross it …

_____________


You won’t, will ya?

Gutless cunt.

Huh? Who? Your mother?

Lol.

IT’S ONLY A MOVIE, GERARD DEAR …

Writes Gerard Henderson in the Sydney Morning Herald of February 3rd, 2009 …

Anthony Beevor is one of the leading historians in the English-speaking world ... Writing in the London Sunday Times on January 18, he complained that "over the past dozen or so years television and movie-makers have managed to blur the border between fact and fiction to an unprecedented degree" while pretending "increasingly that their film is based on a true story" ...

... Beevor argues that "it should be the duty of not just every scientist and historian, but also of every writer, publisher, movie-maker, TV producer and ordinary citizen to fight all attempts to exploit the ignorance and gullibility of audiences".

Well, it should be. But, clearly, it is not.

Bullshit.

Firstly, let's dispense with Beevor's arrogant and elitist assumption that cinema audiences are ignorant and gullible, that is, dumber than a box of hammers (unless of course you happen to think David Spade is the 21st century equivalent of Groucho Marx, in which case, you are dumber than a box of hammers).

"Based on" on a thing does not mean it is the thing.

I know that, have always known that, and do not believe I am unique in that respect.

People go to the cinema to be entertained, not educated. For an education on a topic, that's what books are for. And universities and schools. We go to cinema to sit in the dark with strangers and involve ourselves in the lives of characters, both fictional or drawn from and based on history, and the events and experiences those characters find themselves a part of. This is called “storytelling”.

As David Mamet writes in his book of essays about the movie business “Bambi vs. Godzilla” …

“The film’s precursor is the story around the campfire. In that story we hear and we imagine; in the film we see and we imagine. The structural nature of film allows the imagination to reign. When the film turns narrative rather than dramatic, when it stands in for the viewer’s imagination, the viewer’s interest is lost. The dramatic structure relies exclusively upon the progression of incident … The rule, then, in filmmaking, as in storytelling, as in writing, is “leave out the adjectives”.”

If films based on historical incident were made according to Henderson’s preference, they would come in two parts: Part 1 would last 600 days, and Part 2 would be a 600 day forum of debate about the accuracy, or inclusiveness, of Part 1, a back-and-forth wankfest comprising tediously elitist trainspotters such as Henderson and Beevors. And possibly Robert Manne.

And no one would bother to go for fear of dying of boredom.

A filmmaker has one primary responsibility to his or her audience, and that responsibility is to evoke the desire to know, to demand to know, as Mamet has written many times, “What happens next?”.

If a filmmaker is basing his or her work on historical incident and historical characters, he or she must leave out the adjectives if it is to succeed.

The filmmaker must distill and compress all that is known about the events and people portrayed in order to present us with the essence of the thing. I could not give a flying fuck at the moon if, as Henderson writes, Richard Nixon in “Frost/Nixon” “is presented as a binge drinker who consumed so much liquor during an evening that he had memory lapses about phone conversations the following day” and that the scene is a fiction.

As Anthony Summers revealed in his book “The Arrogance of Power”, Nixon was a drunk and an abuser of prescription drugs. Bringing this facet of his behaviour into play in the film and the scene in question goes to establishing “character” which leads us, the gullible and the ignorant, to an understanding of the man as a “character” and becoming interested in his actions.

And if we become sufficiently interested, we may find ourselves encouraged to learn more about the man himself by reading books about him that present us with facts that are history, and not based on history.

Mamet again:

“The garbage of exposition, backstory, narrative, and characterisation spot-welds the reader into interest in what is happening now. It literally stops the show.”

I suspect that Henderson, as well as lacking a sense of humour, also lacks the imagination necessary to suspend disbelief while watching a film and simply enjoy himself.

In which case, he should stick to running his ballroom dinners where toxic bores can deliver toxic lectures to a toxic and boring cluster of middle-aged stuffed shirts and leave the rest of us well enough alone.

Frankly, I’d rather go see a movie.

They’re fun.



From 1983, Steve Martin "The Man With Two Brains" (not based on fact)

NETWORK NINE ... STILL THE SCUM PT.2

So I'm flicking around the glass teat last night to see what variation on the usual themes of frauds, freaks and fatties our so-called "current affairs" programs are going to bang on about when Channel Nine's "A Current Affair" begins and host Tracy Grimshaw starts a story about the Lahore attacks with ...

"World cricket's underbelly ..."

Are there no depths these shitheads will not plumb to promote or link a story to their crappy fucking television series?

No. No, there aren't.

Honestly.

Belief beggared.

WE'RE GONNA NEED A BIGGER OCEAN

Oceans are big.

…

And they're full of water.

…

Fish live there.

…

Sharks are very big fish.

…

Learn to fucking live with it, okay?

UPDATE: The above was published in the Sydney Morning Herald March 3rd (minus the dots and expletive.)

WHEN BULLSH*T PRACTICALLY GALLOPS

My emphasis added to this report from the SMH courtesy of the "American Journal of Preventive Medicine" (????!!!!!!) …

A new US study has found that kids who listen to music with raunchy lyrics are more likely to engage in sexual activity than kids who don't.

The study, to be published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine, did not find a causal link between crude music and teen sex, but indicated that "people who are exposed to certain messages in music are more likely to copy or emulate what they hear", said study author Dr Brian Primack in a statement ...

... The research in 2006-07 asked 711 year nine students around Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, about their sexual activity and the songs they liked to listen to ...

...The researchers found that youths who listened most to "degrading" songs were more than twice as likely to have had intercourse as other kids in the study ...

“Do you have sex Otis?”

“I rooted the teacher on the football field last week, Doc. So did Buster. And Randy too. Then we went and ate some Twinkies and watched “Iron Man” again.”

Former Fairfax writer and “Daily Truth” blogger Jack Marx had this to say on a similar topic in 2007, addressing Joan Sauers claims about teenage sexuality in her book “Sex Lives of Australian Teenagers” …

Testimony-based science is vexed at the best of times, human beings so prone to bullshit - both the agenda-driven variety and the seemingly pointless - as we all know they are. The risk is amplified when the theme is sex, a topic upon which everyone can be relied to either lie through embarrassment or embellish through boast. Add to that capricious brew the fact that your interview subjects are such notorious opponents of exactitude as teenagers, their respect for scientific endeavour so often overwhelmed by a lust for pranks and the crush of peer pressure, and you've got a pile of "data" that might easily be mistaken for a pile of something else …

… Allow me to provide some preliminary conclusions of my own: the data in Sex Lives of Australian Teenagers is, for all academic purposes, frivolous junk, which no serious "specialist" should regard as having any more academic credibility than the Logies.

Yep. Reckon so.

DEVINELY STUPID, PART 2

Sent to the Sydeny Morning Herald this morning, prompted by this crap from Australia’s answer to Rush Limbaugh (minus the man-boobs and hard-on pills) …

"If you don't like the rules, start your own church" writes Miranda Devine (February 26, 2009). But they did, Miranda. They're called Mormons, Scientologists, Pentecostals, Exclusive Brethren, Moonies, Christian Scientists, Methodists and Jehovah's Witnesses among many, many others. There's also the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster and The Invisible Glovebox Turkey. Confusing, isn't it?

KITTY LITTER

Once upon a time and not so very long ago, the Saturday edition of The Sydney Morning Herald used to take a few hours to read from cover to cover, all sections, including the supplement magazine (excepting the sports section, about which I couldn’t give a flying fuck, and the car and real estate stuff).

However, of late I've noticed it's taking about an hour, maybe a little longer if there are a few reviews of books people might actually like to read rather than reviews of 800 page lumps of over-priced academic twaddle devoted to analysing Adolf Hitler's laundry lists.

Take the edition of Saturday, February 21, 2009 ...

The "news" section, that is, the main section, comprised 14 broadsheet pages. Taking into account that Page 14 is a half-page (and a half-page of ads) about so-called "society events" and the comings and goings of various celebrity grubs and butterflies which is not "news" of any sort, and Page 13 is a half-page (and a half page of ads) comprising reviews of current concerts and theatrical shows (also not "news"), that's 12 pages of national and international reportage. Then of course, take out the rest of the space devoted to advertisements, another 2 pages.

That's 10 pages, 5 bits of paper. Everything that has happened or is happening, nationally and internationally, summed up on 5 bits of paper.

It's almost enough to make a person start reading the Courier Mail.

...

Almost.

HUGELY CONFUSED

From News Ltd …

From Fairfax …

Dis litle bloger is all confussed.

HALLE-F**KING-LU-OFF

Having watched the Sunday edition of the ABC's "Insiders", I left the television on whilst I busied myself with a few random household chores (as one does on a Sunday). All stations gave blanket coverage to the memorial service for those who died in the recent Victorian fires, a duly serious and sombre affair attended by the usual dignitaries, officials and politicians, all of whom wore duly serious and sombre clothes and serious and sombre expressions.

Duly serious and sombre words were spoken, the national anthem was played, and so on and so forth. So far, fair enough ...

And then they went and spoiled it all by playing something stupid like "Hallelujah".

I swear, if I never hear this fucking song again for the rest of what remains of my life, I shall give thanks to the entire pantheon of Roman and Greek gods and sacrifice a few live chickens on the balcony in gratitude.

Shoving the word "hallelujah" into the lyric of a pop song does not a sacred hymn of praise make and why this bloody tune, which has had the living shit thrashed out of it by anyone and everyone with a half-decent set of pipes over the last God-knows how many years should be considered appropriate for such an affair or anything similar to it beggars belief.

Let's have a look at a verse ...

"Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah"

Relevance - FAIL.

Although, I guess we can be a mite grateful they didn't go and dust off "Candle in the Wind" instead.

Or did they?

I got the shits, turned it off and went up pub.

NETWORK NINE ... STILL THE SCUM

Courtesy of Channel 9 News via iinet...

Incest dungeon slave Elisabeth Fritzl believes she has been sold out by a close family member, with leaked photos and personal details about the 42-year-old and her children splashed across a UK tabloid.

"Incest dungeon slave"?

Here is a woman who endured two and half decades of horror, abuse and deprivation of her freedom at the hands of a coward and now, as she attempts to build a life for herself away from the glare of the public spotlight and the gleefully ghoulish voyeurs of the mainstream press and their "readers", the best descriptor some hack at Network Nine news can come up with is something that sounds straight out of a fetish p*rn magazine.

Whoever wrote it should be stabbed in the fucking head.

ALL THE NEWS THAT PRINTS A FIT

Here is the main page of today's world news (February 19, 2009) from The New York Times (click image to enlarge) ...

Palestine, Israel, China, Zimbabwe, etc.

Here are the world news headlines from the home page of today's (February 19, 2009) News.com website (click image to enlarge) ...

Chimpanzee goes nuts. And a tantric sex video clip.

Current standards of Australian journalism and reportage : FUCKED.

SHINY HAPPY PARASITES MUST BURN

From last Friday to Wednesday of this week, I was laid up sick with an unidentified stomach bug that had me rushing from the couch to the sink (closest receptacle available) to dry retch every 20 or 30 minutes. Over the course of 5 days, I've eaten 2 pieces of toast and an apple. The upside (upchuck?) is that I've lost a notch a half in belt size, so I've fought the good fight against the rampant obesity epidemic, going from a whopping 32" waist to about 30".

Fuck you, Jenny Craig.

And during this time, my brain being too rattled to concentrate on anything requiring coherent or sustained thought, I sat in front of the television whimpering like a whipped dog from the pain of a stomach in knots, and watched as the horrors of death, destruction and inconsolable grief flickered their way across the great glass teat of pop'lar ennertainment.

By Tuesday morning, enough was enough.

Thank God for SBS and the ABC, for they were the only two television channels that made any effort to report actual news about the events of that weekend rather than wallowing like fat happy pigs in the hollow pits of pain and loss that once were people with lives, with futures and with pasts, and who, now, wandered like shell-shocked soldiers through a battlefield the likes of which they could never have imagined in their most outrageous nightmares.

The shiny, happy parasites of commercial infotainment, self-anointed Masters-Of-The-Universe-As-Gods-Of-Pain outdid themselves in the rush to see which “host” of this once-in-a-lifetime entertainment opportunity could best make der unhappy, scrunchy face and convey to you, to us, just how horrible everything had been, how much worse it was going to get, and just how thoroughly and utterly fucked everybody involved were.

For we would not be able to grasp the deep import of these events without a familiar face to guide us through the proper meaning of loss, something only they could convey and can we please have some music for the underscore just in case anyone missed it? Thanks very much, Pachelbel’s Canon will do just fine, but after the break can we toss in some R.E.M. or Jeff Buckley? Cheers, thanks, ta, we have an annual licence so there’s no probs with der rights, eh?

And so, with their faces duly pasted and painted so as to take the shine off their shiny, shiny foreheads, they cast their eyes about for the wasted and the wounded, knowing full well they’ll be met with little resistance from the shocked and the stunned as they shove microphones and cameras in the faces of people who’ve lost husbands, wives, sons, daughters, parents, their homes, their pets, the entire record of their lives on earth to date and ask the really, really pertinent questions that really, really begged for an answer …

“You’ve lost your wife and your children and your home and your pets and the entire record of your life on earth to date … How do you feeeeeeeeeel nowwwwwww?”

The answer I wanted never came, or it was certainly never broadcast …

“How would you feel if I shoved this fucking microphone and this fucking camera between the flappy folds of your saggy, spotted buttocks until your fucking pinhead pops off your scrawny fucking shoulders, you ghoulish fucking lump of insensitive cuntspit?”

Better luck next time, perhaps.

And in their wake come the whores, hacks and harlots of the “popular” Australian press, ever eager to drive the standards (?!) of Australian journalism (??!) and reportage (???!) into the mediocrity it so enthusiastically and increasingly embraces ... (Hey! Psst! Wanna see a photo of Salma Hayek breastfeeding a kid? WE GOT IT! Tits, man! And boy, ain’t she got a set! Hubba hubba!).

Yet that shouldn’t be too surprising, given the “popular” press is mostly owned by some pussy-whipped old fart whose hair goes through more colour changes in a week than Joseph’s Technicolour Dreamcoat could do in a 6 month Broadway run.

Yep, round up the usual narcissistic deadshits and set ‘em to work to preach from the same old bully pulpit as always - Hell, you need talent, intelligence and imagination to think up something new and actually write about it in depth and no one wants to read that shit these days, do they? Is Australia, mate, the “lucky country”, don’t you be gittin’ above your raisin’ an’ puttin’ on airs an’ graces boy, an’ gettin’ deep on us all.

There’s a predictable lad.

Ah, fuck ‘em all. Throw some money in a bucket or a tin can or organise something at work or donate some blood or whatever, but next time these cunts of commercial “news” suggest splashing the face of someone writhing in the throes of uncontrollable grief for “your consideration” in some special extended agony remix edition, turn the fucking thing off or turn the page.

Enough is enough.

DEVINELY STUPID

Sent to the Sydney Morning Herald this morning, prompted by this crap from the female Paddy McGuiness …

“For investigative journalism of skill, intelligence, common sense, balance and reasoned argument, Miranda Devine makes a nice typist.”

Myself, I blame Bill Henson.

I WISH I'D WRITTEN THAT ...

Buffalo Beast list their 50 Most Loathsome Americans of 2008 and the charges against them ...

I doubt these three could be bettered for descriptions ...

At No.43, You ...

Charges: You think it’s your patriotic duty to spend money you don’t have on crap you don’t need. You think Hillary lost because of sexism, when it’s actually because she’s just a bad liar. You think Iraq is better off now than before we invaded, and don’t understand why they’re so ungrateful. You think Tim Russert was a great journalist. You’re hopping mad about an auto industry bailout that cost a squirt of piss compared to a Wall Street heist of galactic dimensions, due to a housing crash you somehow have blamed on minorities. It took you six years to figure out what a tool Bush is, but you think Obama will make it all better. You deem it hunky dory that we conduct national policy debates via 8-second clips from “The View.” You think God zapped humans into existence a few thousand years ago, although your appendix and wisdom teeth disagree. You like watching vicious assholes insult each other on TV. You support gun rights, because firing one gives you a chubby. You cuddle falsehoods and resent enlightenment. You think the fact that 43% of whites could stomach voting for an incredibly charismatic and eloquent light-skinned black guy who was raised by white people means racism is over. You think progressive taxation is socialism. 1 in 100 of you are in jail, and you think it should be more. You are shallow, inconsiderate, afraid, brand-conscious, sedentary, and totally self-obsessed. You are American.

Exhibit A: You’re more upset by Miley Cyrus’s glamour shots than the fact that you are a grown adult who is upset about Miley Cyrus.

At No.20, Joe the Plumber ...

Charges: The Che Guevara of bald, pissed off white men. In a lot of ways, Samuel Wurzelbacher really does represent the average American—basing economic opinions on unrealistic expectations of personal future success, blaming his failure to meet those expectations on minorities and old people, complaining about deadbeats getting his taxes when he isn’t actually paying his taxes, and advertising his own rudimentary historical and mathematical ignorance by warning of creeping socialism in a country whose highest income tax rate has dropped by half in thirty years. “Joe” indeed symbolizes the true American dream—to become undeservedly rich and famous through a dizzyingly improbable stroke of luck. As American folk heroes go, Wurzelbacher ranks somewhere between Hulk Hogan and Bernie Goetz.

Exhibit A: "Social Security is a joke...social security I've never believed in, don't like it. I hate that it's forced on me."

At No.11, Rush Limbaugh ...

Charges: The father of modern stupidity, Limbaugh spins reflexively, never struggling with issues, because he knows his conclusion must favor Republicans, and his only task is finding a way to get there. In other words, he may or may not actually believe what he’s saying, but it’s beside the point. His job is not to say what he thinks, but to instruct his listeners on what they should think. If the facts don’t agree, he can always change them, as his “ditto heads” are already armed against the contrary evidence with the all-purpose “liberal bias” attack. “Rush is right,” as the slogan goes, and all those nerdy reporters in the “drive by media” are lying, because they secretly love terrorists. It’s this creepily worshipful, breathtakingly infantile abdication of intellect to a blatantly dishonest hypocrite that makes Limbaugh’s audience so goddamn sad. These pathetic, insecure, failures of men look to Rush as the champion of their impotent rage, helping them to externalize responsibility for their own deficiencies, pinning the blame on those darn liberals and their racial and gender equality.

Exhibit A: You have to marvel at the sheer ignominy of someone who coins the term “Obama recession” two days after the election.

No.11 reminds me of someone ...

OH, TO BE A SUB-EDITOR ...

From the front page of today's New York Times, this lead-in to its Sunday Styles feature ...

"Lost tribes of lesbians from the early era of communes and feminism try to stay vital to a new generation."

I can't wait to see the movie.

WHEN YOU’RE SLAPPED, YOU’LL STAY SLAPPED

A self-taught Muslim cleric says some idiotic things, thereby revealing himself to be an idiotic individual, the Islamic equivalent of a Pastor Fred W. Phelps perhaps.

"Self-taught" says it all, really. Imagine being a "self-taught" nuclear physicist at a job interview ...

"And what are your qualifications?"

"Oh, I don't have any formal qualifications. I just learnt myself real good."

"I see."

"..."

"..."

"Atoms are small."

"Yes. Quite."

... If every political or religious cracker who ever yearned for a platform from which to spout their particular brand of lunatic bullshit were given equal time in the media, then our media (such as it is) would come more and more to resemble the rabble-rousing histrionics of an Andrew Bolt blog.

Unfortunately, every fuckwit within coo-ee of a microphone who happens to identify as Islamic, and tries to pass their religion off as justification for their fuckwittery is fair game for a few slabs worth of headlines, especially from the typists at Murdoch's toilet-paper tabloids who are always on the lookout for an opportunity for a new belch of dark-people panic. Not to mention an invitation to "outraged Aussies" to post "their say" on such matters, which they inevitably clamour to do and do with such admirable clarity of point, too …

The thing about Muslim clerics and their apologists in the leftist (read “ABC") media is that we don’t get to hear half of the rotten things they *leave out* of their toxic sermons. “Preparing bread on the stove” is she? Notice the complete lack of Sea Kittens in this picture?

Either the Muslims don’t cook Sea Kittens - which would be a complete rejection of the prophet Jesus, whose friends were fishermen - or they *do* cook Sea Kittens anddon’t want us to know about it!

Which is the more sinister?

Preparing bread on the stove. Yeah right. Not likely, unless that bread is going toward Barak Obabma’s hamburger which he ate on Air Force One (Obama’s hamburger, Tim. Seriously, “I ham what I ham.” Friday’s blog).

Barak Obama eating a hamburger (not a Sea Kitten, note) prepared by the wife of a Muslim cleric - in an unforgivable affront to the Jewish and Christian faiths! No! Just the Jewish one. Wait! Which one doesn’t eat ham again? Oh yeah, the Muslims.

bill of sydney (Reply)
Fri 23 Jan 09 (05:28am)

Fuckin' hell. I thought "bill" of sydney was a cafe. I'm never eating there again.

Why must so much of the media devote so much of its time and energies to breathlessly reporting the rantings and ravings of ignorant imbeciles like Samir Mohtadi as if those rantings and ravings mattered a damn to anyone with an ounce of common sense?

Rather than engage, argue or attempt to place such comments in any type of perspective as there is no perspective in which they can be placed unless you're a retard, the appropriate response is an offhand dismissal of the man as an utter fucking moron yabbering utterly moronic things to a small bunch of other utter fucking morons who've got nothing better to do with their time.

And, having done so, we may then move on to news of actual import and get on with the business of living in the world.

Here endeth the lesson.

SHOCK! SUPERHERO IDENTITY REVEALED!

Spiderman's an evil lefty!

Unlike George W. Bu Batman.

THE 1ST ANNUAL SMELLY TONGUES "SNIFF MY FINGER" AWARDS ...

... For the relentless pursuit and presentation of random stupidities that will forevermore stand as a testament to how the human race eventually managed to devolve back into a puddle of pond-scum ...

THE "SOMEBODY FAMOUS FARTED" AWARD (or, "WHY THE FUCK IS THIS NEWS?") goes to ...

The Sydney Morning Herald for it's breathless report about how, when Lindsay Lohan's girlfriend Samantha Ronson arrived at Sydney airport in September, 2008, she exited the terminal and lit a cigarette.

As the story is uncredited, the award, a Vegemite jar of famous people's farts will be presented to former SMH editor Alan Oakley. What a whiffy way to go, Alan, old chap! Well done, what!

THE "PHILLIP TRAVERS" AWARD for incomprehensible chatterbot claptrap comments on the intertubes goes to ...

What a fucking field of worthy contenders, ladies and gentlemen, and my-oh-my-oh-my, did this one put our judges to the test this year! Two of them stabbed themselves in their eye-sockets, and another ripped his own face off in indecision, so I guess that leaves the choice of this year's inaugural winner up to myself. It was a last minute entry, but by God, it worked for me ...

From Scott Weinberg's Cinematical review of Frank Miller's film "The Spirit", "Serge G" had this to say ...

"I'd like inform you that Scarlett Johansson (actress)actually is a clone from original person,who has nothing with acting career.Clone was created illegally using stolen biomaterial.Original Scarlett Galabekian last name is nice, CHRISTIAN young lady.I'll tell more,those clones(it's not only 1)made in GERMANY-world leader manufacturer of humans clones,it's in Ludwigshafen am Rhein,Rhineland-Palatinate,Mr.Helmut Kohl home town.You can't even imaging the scale of the cloning activity.But warning,H.Kohl staff strictly controlling their clones spreading around the world,they're NAZI type disciplined and mind controlled,be careful get close with clones you will be controlled too.Original family didn't authorize any activity with stolen biomaterials,no matter what form it was created in,it's all need to be back to original family control in Cedars-Sinai MedicalCenter in LA.Controlling clones is US military operation.Original Scarlett never was engaged,by the way"

Congratulations, Serge! Your award is this very special lead coated space bar which will be presented to you in the form of a severe beating about the head. Enjoy your brain hemorrhage, Serge! You've earned it, baby!

THE "PIERS 'I CAN'T SEE MY PENIS FROM UP HERE' AKERMAN" AWARD for services to sexual hysterics, pedophile paranoia and moral panic about pretty much anything ado about fucking and genitalia goes to ...

Jesus Christ on a cross upside-down and split up the arse with a eucalypt log, people! Where the hell can we start with this one?! Ladies and gentlemen, this was a field stuffed to the stocking top with notable nominees and, to be fair to all, no one individual stood above any other. And so, in a historical first for award programmes across the globe, we are proud to announce that everyone's a winner!

Yes-indeedy-do, this year's award will be jointly and proudly shared by ... Family First Senator Steve Fielding for suggesting that adults should be banned from viewing adult material on the internet; Miranda Devine, Hetty Johnston, Kevin Rudd and Morris Iemma for having dirty thoughts about an image of a nude adolescent and thinking everyone else on the planet is just as obsessed with sex as they are (the dirty little fuckers); and Senator Stephen Conroy just because the dumb little cunt wasn't scraped, bagged and flushed into a toilet back when he was a zygote.

Our hearty congratulations to all! Your prize will be awarded to you backstage by forty-seven Masai warriors on ice, all of whom are right now feverishly working their sixteen-inch weapons of mass destruction into a lather of rhythmically throbbing gristle on your behalf and for your pleasure.

And remember, folks, bukkake ain't another word for a bridge-game! (Please remember to collect your super-size sponges from the stage manager afore you venture back to the green room, ta).

And, last but certainly not least! May I have a drum-roll and a boom-tish, please!

THE SNIFF MY FINGER "GOLDEN JACKBOOT" AWARD!!

Generously sponsored by Odour Eaters, Stormfront and the German National Democratic Party, this year's winner is ...

ANDREW BOLT!

For his inimitable irrepressibility, snide insinuations and suspect views about anything that ain't white, ain't right and ain't about 120 years old, Andy was always a frontrunner favourite for this award and, by dang and dagnabbity goshdarn, he deserves the recognition!

Andrew's prize will be a fully escorted tour (courtesy of the N.D.P.) to Passau where he will be encouraged to slit the throat of a police officer while uttering the words, "Greetings from the Herald-Sun and Rupert Murdoch, you left-wing police pig" ...

It oughta be a doddle.

Thank you all for your attendance and attention and we look forward to doing it all again next year.

Oh, by the way, if there are any footballers in tonight's audience, try to avoid raping the ushers on your way out, boys ... I know it's a party habit thing with you guys, but it takes a helluva long time to get the stains out of the carpet ... Why don't you just go home and shove a wine glass in your girlfriend's face instead, you gutless little fuckers? You'll get a talk show out of it, I guarantee ...

I HATE THE INTERNET

One last thing ...

News.com have just released their 100 most-clicked upon stories of the year. Here are the keywords from the Top 40 headlines ...

40. Racy Stephanie Rice
39. Bingle topless shots
38. Xbox
37. Schoolgirl raped
36. Named and shamed
35. Naughty Nikki
34. Brisbane Broncos
33. 19-year-old / Suicide / Webcam
32. David Brown / Sunrise
31. iPhone
30. Cosmetic surgery addict
29. Suicidal jumper
28. Girlfriend was a bloke
27. Stolen Generations
26. Orgies / Nude resort
25. Incest couple
24. Teenage / Orgy
23. Sonia Kruger
22. Sex act / Toilets
21. Lindsay Lohan / Lesbian lover
20. Mark Priestley
19. Porn
18. Ex-Idol
17. Penis
16. Sex / Video
15. Porn shock
14. Call girl
13. Google
12. Horrified
11. Jess Origliasso / Porn
10. Brendan David Dennison
09. Giant spider
08. Alien
07. Bigfoot
06. Patrick Swayze
05. Stephanie Rice
04. Pink
03. iPhone
02. Fishy-smelling
01. Heath Ledger

My natural inclination toward misanthropic nihilism just got a whole lot worse.