MUST CRUSH COMPETITION

A friend of mine has shamelessly copied my example and recently created his own blog: Words that Rhyme with Nick.

Let me just say from the outset, I don't approve of other people making blogs.

Allowing your average joe to make blogs, porn sites, or anything else on the internet dilutes the total amount of content that can be found and makes it harder for people to find the premium content. Premium content, like, say for example, this blog.

For that reason, I intend to disparage Nick mercilessly until I have crushed his spirit and sent him into a violent depression that forces him to close up shop and kill himself. Frankly I'm doing him a favour. He'll understand one day.

"Words that ryhme with Nick", indeed. I'll tell you a few words that rhyme with Nick:

None-too-quick, prick, ball-lick and sucks on d***.

I also understand your mother has been pulling tricks.

Disparaging completed.

OH, THE IRONY!

Man's life saved by his wedding ring.

THOSE WHACKY ITALIANS

TOURISTS who do not want to be ripped off in Venice have been advised to stop their brutish behaviour and try to learn a bit of the local lingo.

A significant proportion of the city's bars and restaurants are now operating two, or even three, price lists: one for tourists, another for locals, and a third for "sympathetic" tourists who make more effort than the usual grunted demands.

"There are different pricing levels," admitted Franco Conte, the head of the Venetian branch of Codacons, the Italian consumer rights group. "If you are Italian, a croissant and a cappuccino costs €3.50 [$5.60]. If you speak another language it costs €7."

Should you be unfortunate enough to find yourself in Italy, I have provided here a list of phrases you can use in order to make your stay marginally more tolerable:

Please can I have the bill?
Ti mi fa el conto?

Why do I have to pay double?
Parcossa go dar pagar el dopio?

Do you think I am made of money?
Pensi che go le man sbuxe?

I'm never coming back to Venice!
Mi no tornarò piu a Venesai!

You have made a powerful enemy this day!
Avete reso ad un nemico potente questo giorno!

I will kill you so hard, your ancestors will die!
Li ucciderò in modo da duro, i vostri antenati moriranno!

Now you will taste the back of my hand!
Ora assagerete la parte posteriore della mia mano!

For full effect, that last one should be accompanied by a sudden back-handed slap. That none-too-subtle message should overcome any remaining language barriers.

P.S. Kudos to Alta Vista for the translations, although I'm sure they screwed it up.

THE TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION

You may be bored to know that in an episode of the animated series Futurama, chief protagonist Phillip J. Fry travels to the planet Tristol, "a mysterious planet in the darkest depths of the forbidden zone", where he becomes Emperor of a bunch of water people after accidentally drinking their previous Emperor.

Why did they make him Emperor? Because that's just how things are done around there.

But before he could be sworn in, Fry had to flawlessly recite the following royal oath from memory:

"I, Fry, who drank Bont the Viscous, who drank Ungo the Moist, who guzzled Zorn the Stagnant...who slurped Hudge the Dewy, who enjoyed a soup composed principally of Throm the Chunky, do solemnly swear to rule with honour and insanity...Uh, integrity!"

Over to Mark Steyn, who notes the following chain of events in Afghanistan:

"In Afghanistan, continuity is a luxury, a precious anomaly, and the present is nothing if not tense: [King] Zahir’s father was killed handing out prizes at a school ceremony. His predecessor was executed. The predecessor’s predecessor lasted three days. And, after Zahir came a string of presidents-for-life carried out by the handles in mid-term.

The king was toppled by his cousin and brother-in-law Daoud, who was killed by his successor Taraki, who was suffocated by his successor Hafizullah Amin, who was executed by the Soviets, who installed Babrak Karmal, who died in hospital in Moscow and in a radical break with precedent managed to outlive his replacement, Najibullah, whom the Taliban wound up hanging from a traffic light".

Between you and me, I'd rather live in Tristol.

THE FUTURE IS NOW

Did you see that last post? Wow, now I can jam semi-interesting videos stolen from YouTube onto this blog in order to give it the illusion of quality, and to distract my dwindling readership from my own lack of talent.

Truly, we have entered a new age of wonder.

BUT WILL IT BLEND?

This new-fangled iPhone cajigger is being touted as the the next best thing since sliced bread. It sure seems to have a fancy-sounding list of features, but the big question on everyone's lips is this: how well does it blend?

COUNTER-CURSE URGENTLY REQUIRED

The spam I keep receiving just keeps getting weirder:

From: Noah Adkins

Subject: beecham chirp disseminate

abreast cashew chokeberry circumscription. bookkeep cauchy
barrier caleb decline correlate. creditor benign

archetypical cowhand cricket breakaway aiken digress
appraisal. custodial brennan clare diopter clomp beefsteak
calamitous.

I think she just cast a spell on me. Somebody help!

MAN NOT PIRATE

"German was not a pirate of her affections," attorney Enrico Mirabelli said. "Her affections were already adrift."

AUSSIE MUSLIMS UNITE AGAINST EVIL

From today's The Australian:

Australia's Sunni Muslims have pushed aside ideological differences with their Shia counterparts to form a united front against...

Terrorism? Female circumcision? Suicide bombing?

...Israel

Oh.

FEELING OPTIMISTIC?

Sydney’s dam levels have reached the 50% mark, and are now half empty. Uh, I mean, they’re now half full. No wait...

...

Oh to hell with you!

I’m off to the pub to grab a beer and sort this out.

BIG QUESTIONS ANSWERED

Question posed at Fark.com: Do Koalas have talons?

Answer by Somacandra: It's Australia, man. Everything has talons and can kill you. Even the 'creme brulee' has talons.

'Nuff said.

NOW THAT'S JUST CREEPY

Julia Gillard briefly usurped Kevin Rudd as top dog of the Opposition yesterday...

"Not that Gillard even so much as raised her voice throughout the hour and a half she sat in the chair as acting leader of the Opposition while Rudd was away at the funeral of Tom Burns, a former Queensland ALP leader and deputy premier.

"Instead Gillard fixed the Prime Minister, who was the subject of each one of her questions, with a focused stare that must have been disconcerting if only because she did not appear to blink."

I'm not going to accuse the deputy Opposition Leader of being possessed by the Devil, but, well, just try to spot her pupils in that photo and I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

UPDATE!!!!

Take a closer look at that photo. You'll notice that's Shadow Treasurer Wayne Swan in the background, with his hand down his pants. The plot thickens by the minute.

YOU WANT UPDATES? YOU MAKE EM

Haven't updated my blog lately, I can't be arsed.

You may send any complaints to the usual address.

HOLIDAY: TERROR ON THE HIGH SEAS

Apologies for the lack of posts recently, I've been on holiday. And also lazy, incredibly lazy.

Here's a rundown of what happened, just in case you're interested (N.B. for theatrical reasons some aspects of this story may have been slightly exaggerated):

Day One: We're driving to Brisbane. Stopped over for the night in Armidale. It's a desolate, uninhabitable wasteland showing few signs of life.

Day Two: We've stopped in Brisbane. It's a desolate, uninhabitable wasteland showing few signs of life. This is compounded by the fact my relatives from New Zealand are here, and that I have to talk to them. Why don't they sod off?

Day Three: We went to Dreamworld today, although a more accurate name would be The World of Un-Ending Nightmares. The log ride was good though.

Day Four: We've hired a couple of houseboats, with my immediate family in one and my relatives in the other. I was hoping our boat would have a name that would strike fear into the hearts of men. Instead we got "Rainbow Goddess".

Day Five: I've gone over to join my relatives on the other houseboat. Suddenly I found myself surrounded by children. Just what is it about children that makes them gravitate towards me, and injure me?

Day Six: A freak tidal wave has swept our GPS and all our maps overboard. We're lost.

Day Seven: One of my relatives has come over to our houseboat. I consider resorting to cannibalism, even though we're not short of food. It is my hope his death will serve as a warning to the rest of my relatives not to come over.

Day Eight: We seem to be wandering in the general direction of civilisation, although I can't be sure of that. I weigh up the pros and cons of pushing my Dad overboard and taking command of the boat. Someone responsible will have to take charge, if we're all going to survive.

On that note, I considered pushing the rest of my family overboard as well. You know, just for laughs.

Day Nine: We've spotted land. Safety at last! We then raced towards land, plowed into the dock, abandoned our sinking vessel, dove into a taxi and jumped onto the first plane to anywhere. As we left Brisbane airport I cursed the very ground the city was built on and vowed never to return.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to my next holiday. I'll keep you posted if any plans are made.

THE END IS NIGH

Labor was returned to power at yesterday's State election, in spite of their deliberate attempts to wreck up the State's roads and public transport. We can now look forward to four more years of this:

The Pacific Highway

TOO MUCH CAFFEINE IS BARELY ENOUGH

Headline: Starbucks to open 10,000 new stores in four years.

Thank Christ for that. Before now if I wanted a coffee I'd have to go all the way across the street, but soon I won't even have to leave the building!

WHERE'S ME PINT'S POPULARITY SOARS

A second person I don't know left a comment on my blog the other day. That brings my total number of confirmed readers (who aren't friends of mine I've coerced into reading) up from zero to two.

Ceeelebrate good times, come on!

MAY THE RAGE BE WITH YOU

Overheard from co-workers:

Co-worker one: Good luck with your Touch Footy game tonight.
Co-worker two: I don't need luck, I've got rage.

Which reminded me of another quote:

The key to the game of football, and life, is to
annihilate everything in a blind rage.

Wise words all round.

THE ONLY APPROPRIATE RESPONSE IS TO PANIC

From today's MX (not available online):

TODDLER RUNS CAR INTO MUM

A Melbourne woman is in hospital after her toddler son hopped into the driver's seat of her car, started the engine and then accidentally pinned her beween the car and a brick wall.
The woman was taken to Dandenong Hospital suffering from a possible broken hip and pevlic injuries.
Her 18-month-old son was not injured.
Investigations are under way.

The Police have yet to confirm that the child is the son of Lucifer, but that much should be pretty obvious by now.

300: A BALANCED LOOK

A reviewer gives his mild opinion of the new movie 300:

I can’t spoil the plot because THANK GOD THERE ISN’T ONE. Just ass kicking that kicks ass that, while said ass is getting kicked, is kicking yet more ass that’s hitting someone’s balls with a hammer made of ice but the ice is frozen whiskey.

On the other hand, these Iranians are against it. I'll leave it up to you to decide which review is more persuasive.

UPDATE!!!

The results are in! Records smashed, etc.

That's 300 Director Zac Snyder, having just murdered the directors of several lesser films immediately after 300 failed to secure an award at the 2007 Oscars. The film was released too late to be nominated.

THE PIECES ARE FALLING INTO PLACE

Federal Opposition leader Kevin Rudd's Dad's name was Bert:

It's all starting to make sense now.

I HOPE THEY BOTH LOSE

That's Morris Iemma, pictured on the cover of today's Daily Telegraph groping an innocent child. Is there nothing this madman won't do in his desperate last ditch attempt to cling onto power? I contend there is not.

In the interest of balanced coverage I've also included this photo of Debnam:

Although he doesn't appear to be doing anything particularly evil in this photo, it should be obvious to even the most blinded Liberal Party zealot that he's up to no good. Who knows what diabolical schemes he's plotting to unleash on an unsuspecting public?And don't ask me who that bloke on the right is. He's probably Satan's ambassador to Earth, or someone equally sinister.

I don't know about you but I'm planning to vote for a third party. Perhaps the Shooter Party, or the Mad Hatter's Tea Party will do the trick. Better to vote for some random potential nutter in the hope they won't do as much damage as the current batch of proven nutters. God help us all.

Or perhaps the smartest thing to do would be to simply not vote at all, and instead heave half a brick at the nearest candidate.The way I see it, the politicians owe me some light entertainment. Watching them scatter to the wind as they flee from a barrage of heavy objects I've hurled at them would fill me with joy.

"Force me into the voting booth, will you?? I'll have the last laugh yet, you bastards! Hahahahaaaaa!"

I'll see you all on Court TV.

DIDDIMS

"Actor Ralph Fiennes considers himself to have been the victim of a sexual aggressor in an alleged mile-high sex scandal".

It's a tough gig, living the life of a male celebrity. Having to live with the crushing burden of being constantly hounded by women wanting sex must be particularly nightmarish. Even when trying to mind your own business on a plane, there's no escape.

I weep for them.

TREASON SEASON

Not sure if you're a filthy traitor? Find out here!

If you scored higher than 13%, which is what I scored, then you are indeed a wretched traitor deserving of a good old fashioned stake-burning, and I demand you stop reading my blog right now.

If you scored lower then you're probably some kind of patriotic fruit-cake, and I don't care much for your kind either.

NIFTY

This graph tracks income and life expectancy from 1975.

PRESIDENTS APPROVAL RATING SKYROCKETS

US President George Bush, possibly inspired by my recent purchase of a Crush-a-majig, recently felt compelled to hop into a giant crushing machine of his own. Bush, drunk with power and filled with an insatiable blood-lust not satisfied by the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, then demonstrated the killing skills he is famous for by attempting to plow the tractor into a bunch of journalists.

I myself am opposed to the crushing of journalists under a giant tractor until their eyes pop out and their heads explode like ripe tomatoes, immediately before their organs are ground into a fine paste. While it's true that journalists endlessly criticise the work of others while contributing nothing useful of their own to society*, I still feel killing them in this way is an excessive response. I do recognise however, that few people would agree with me.


*Some people might say it is extremely hypocritical of me to accuse journalists of being a burden on society when I myself am studying to become a lawyer. Those people are idiots.

GET ON WITH IT

For centuries mankind has yearned to destroy the sun. Now the US plans to do the next best thing: block it out!

DEAD WRONG

I always thought that a blood alchohol content of .35 would kill you.

Wrong!

THERE'S A POLITICAL DEBATE ON! CHANGE THE CHANNEL!

Apparently a political debate between Premier Morris Iemma and Opposition leader Peter Debnam is brewing, a few months out from the next state election. Old-man Iemma wants to have the hour-long debate while sitting down, with the debate to be interrupted by a 15 minute nap, while youthful, exuberant Peter Debnam wants to have the debate while running a marathon.

My money's on Debnam to win the election, although obviously if he does so I will be reduced to wailing in horror and despair. The thought of either man getting his hands on the levers of government fills me with an acute sense of dread.

It's a lot like being in a doctor's surgery, waiting to be told whether the massive lump growing on your face is herpes or cancer. Whatever the outcome, you lose.


UPDATE!!

After doing some research, I found out that while Iemma is 45 years old, Peter Debnam is an ancient 51! My apologies if I gave the impression Iemma was older, I was counting his age in Dog years. I thought he was 315.

YEARNING FOR THE GOOD OL' DAYS

I received some interesting spam the other day:

True, we sometimes create sites just for testing or as an administrative center.
Topped out in your Table Tennis? Even I have my limits!
Even I have my limits! Topped out in your Table Tennis?
Even I have my limits!
But instead of doing what was best for America, you did what was best for Republican Party power.
And this is potentially a very good thing for you.
There will be some significant differences.
Like always the mind of Allen has put a brilliant twist on the basic concept of affiliate marketing.
RSS AutoPublishing is basically an autoresponder that produces RSS feeds. In that respect, this is a good thing.
My immediate thought is, "How dare you talk to me about humility? But instead of doing what was best for America, you did what was best for Republican Party power.
I'm with him there, although I have another category of comments I will not post: The confusing.
My first stab at making sense of this conflict is that we were fast approaching the point at which the Republicans needed to be dislodged if we weren't there already.
I couldn't vote for Gore, but I didn't see Bush stopping the environmentalists, either. Or just looking to play better table tennis, but don't have any more spare time to train? I'm not yet convinced we've reached that point.

It goes on like that for another 4 pages. Completely insane.

I still remember the glory days of old, when spam was simple and offered products that I actually wanted, like Viagra, "enlargement" pumps and cheap porn.

But this guy, I don't think even he knows what he's trying to sell. He didn't even attempt to trick me into handing over my bank account details.

In his defence however, he did at least recognise that the Republicans, instead of doing what was best for America, did what was best for Republican party power. He has real insight. You can't fault him for that.

PET HATES

Putting images up on my blog posts is a real pain in the arse, even more so than reading them.

THEY DO NOT LOOK LIKE ME

While spying on Miles I discovered this, a site where you can upload a picture of yourself and have it tell you which celebrities you most look like. It sounds foolish and it is foolish, but I've decided to investigate this tedious process anyway so that you, the public, can know that it is safe:



Completely wrong, much as I expected. Don't ask me why the program chose to zoom in on my front teeth. Perhaps it believed that was the most attractive part of my face, in spite of the fact they're chipped to buggery. The more observant among you will have also noticed the colours in my photo are inverted. I did this to prevent the nutters from learning my secret identity.

Since this particular program clearly isn't up to the job, I asked the magic mirror on my wall which celebrities I look like, with scary results:











William Dafoe: 94%













Steve Buscemi: 98%

Christopher Walken: 100%

Appalling.