Strange lights over Kuala Lumpur - A UFO in Bukit Bintang - April 3rd 2011

​​After wandering the streets and stores of Kuala Lumpur, myself and my travelling companion were rather hungry and having left it quite late to eat, decided to try the restaurant over the road from our hotel.  The meal was terrible, ill prepared, flavourless and served without care.  We decided to leave it for the rats and dine elsewhere.  I attempted for some time to locate a waiter that I might procure the bill.  There were none to be seen until I was given a tap on the shoulder. It was our waiter.  Wide eyed, he pointed skyward and asked "You know what is?".  I stepped out into a street full of upturned faces and high-held cameras.  In the sky, almost directly overhead, a very strange thing.  Red, blue, orange and green, simultaneously small and vast, as though the image of a galaxy had somehow been holographically projected across space.  It was perfectly still and evenly bright across time, even though thin cloud marched across the sky.  An hour later it was still there and still more faces pointed at the sky.

Afterward, I quite desperately wanted to share just how amazing a sight this was, but alas​,​ I was met with complete skepticism, as though I were mad, or stupid, or both.  Perhaps an insight into why such stories are generally relegated to the campfire.

And so I give it to you ​in the hope that you might imagine the beauteous complexity of those lights using my blurred photograph as a guide and that your mind might burn with curiosity ​as mine did.

Dummett Summit Crew Strike Again

Above the pedestrian tunnel in Dummett Crs :-)

A forward from Kain (Tue, Aug 21, 2007 at 4:42 PM)

So some mean sonofabitch comes up to you in the street, sneering at
your jeans and flip-flop hair top.

He asks what would you know and demands to see your ID.

He rubs his bastard chin and grunts with white spitflecks

"You some kinda artist or something?" Sure he looks like he could
probably just kill you with his ape-looking hands, but you gonna let
him walk all over you like you're some cheap rug?

Spit in his eye and demand that HE apologise to you!

I said "Now it's YOUR turn to say sorry, you cashed up MAN-BITCH!"

Hold him by his white/blue collared scruff of the neck and rub his
nose in your intelligence.
Then kick his manicured teeth down his fusking throat. Maybe the
choking will do him some good...

When are these sons of Howard and all the other pig-fisted, interest
rate fearing, god poxed,
proto-neanderthal bastards going to realise that they're in the back
of a bus that's being driven downhill at speed and the breaks won't be
there for them when they need them.

Quick! Won't someone check if the driver is even awake at the wheel?

Christ, all they can do is complain about the price of petrol, the
decline of morals,
decry THE KIDS and how they can't be controlled.

They gas-guzzle their way home to their plasma/ac/HDTV/colourbond
houses and souse their brain chunks in aftershave and mid-priced booze
eat noodles from a box like folkfromtv and look down their noses at
the single mothers and wogs on A Current Affair.

We live in a society that is visibly shaken by talk of terrorists,
rapists, free-thinkers and Buddha in a basket, even gay marriage!

Of course they have a point.

It's the 100% raging queers not the individualistic, money-hungry
Fascists that are polluting the rivers, ripping down trees, throwing
up great ugly condominiums and beating the shit out of you if you so
even dare to suggest there might be something strange about their
behaviour.

"Keep Being Afraid" cry the maggot-king ad execs and princes of shit
politicians.
"It Keeps us in our jobs!"

God starve me, I must cut my nails before something weird happens.

March of the Senator [Mon, 22 Mar 2010]

Senator Stevenson walked the green mile, his hands shaking but hidden
away in his pockets so as not to betray his trepidation to the aliens.

His fall from grace had begun long ago, when in a moment of weakness
he had given in to the force of his peoples tradition and had blown
the conch shell from the top of Marsden Cliff. Oh, the fallen man,
representative of all of those few left since the invasion.

The craft began to right itself and Senator Stevenson caught his fall
against the arm of a waiting mould-zombie, checking himself just in
time as he began to thank the infernal machine. Never again would he
drink of the conch, never again would the crowds gather to hear his
filth-double-talk.

The small group reached the end of their path, for Stevenson the end
of all paths.

An arm swung from above, neatly severing his head from his body and
while Stevenson watched with the last adrenaline-driven burst of his
mind, the aliens began to feast.

Parallel Epoch 1988

Fwd from Kain: "A thought before I away to bed"

Visceral feelings are feelings that you feel very deeply and find it difficult to control or ignore, and that are not the result of thought. Adjective usu ADJ n literary

• Synonym 
  instinctive

• I never overcame a visceral antipathy for the monarchy.
• ...the sheer visceral joy of being alive.

A GUT FEELING....

WHAT IS RELATED TO (in an opposite kind of way)

• Eviscerates 3rd person present;   eviscerating present participle;   eviscerated past tense,past participle

• To eviscerate a person or animal means to remove their internal organs, such as their heart, lungs, and stomach. Verb formal
  • ...strangling and eviscerating rabbits for the pot. V n

AND CONSIDER

In the Australian sense, to be 'gutted' is to lose the sheer visceral joy of being alive.

Maybe our language is not so archaic and proverbial after all, if 'gutted' and 'eviscerated' are just two ways of expressing the same idea.

Goodnight

K

Rental Reference

To whom it may concern.

Tony Rizza leased a property from me for two years. His rent was
consistently late, and on cessation of his lease it was discovered
that:

1) The toilet had been blocked for a number of months and he had been
using the bathtub as a replacement.

2) Various walls around the house were smashed / graffitied.

3) The beautiful English garden had been torn up to make way for a
marijuana patch.

4) He had kept a little boy under the house, claiming it was "so I
couldn't hear him scream".

I would thoroughly recommend Tony as a tenant, so long as you are
intending to demolish the property afterward.

Thankyou,
A Landlord.

The Kindness of Strangers

Some philanthropic person has relieved me of the need to clear my glove box of compact disks.  I only wish they had thought to take said disks rather than simply relocate them to the floor, or to remove the pesky notebook computer from the back seat (it doesn't work, but they weren't to know that).  Also, I must thank them for relieving my car door of the ability to lock, thus saving future kind souls the need to break said lock with a screwdriver.  Unfortunately, in a fit of pique, I re-established my doors locking mechanism.  I refuse to pick up the disks or the deck of playing cards that have been strewn over the passenger seat and floor on the grounds that i've never had such a clean glove box before!  I can only hope that they have full and happy lives nursing their heroin addiction.

Boba Fett

And thus ended my drawing career in 1981. I think the Picture Of The Year star was an in-house award ;-)

A love poem rediscovered (2005)

When the world takes its toll
and I take leave of this earth
Will you keep my severed ear in a jar
that you may whisper sweet nothings?
Will you cut off my lips and tape them to the wall
that you might hear my reply?
Will you cut out my throat
that i might still drink?
Will you take out my eyes
and put them on toothpicks
that I may see again?
And if none of these things
Will you cut off my nob
and shove it in my gob?

Maxie and Den by the Yarra

The story of John Dummett

Discover the story of The Rock; Dummett Rock, and the man behind the rock, behind the puzzle, wrapped in the enigma of the strange relationship between One Man and One Rock
John Dummett was born to Bill and Petunia Dummett in 1900. Bill Dummett ran a quarry on the outskirts of Bendigo, and as a small boy John would amuse himself by dragging rocks behind him on a self devised harness, showing off his strength (and the fact that he was none too bright). At age 19, John was conscripted to Algiers to fight the fascists. He kept a favourite pebble in his pocket for good luck, a rock which was eventually worn smooth with handling. This rock is now in the British Museum, locked safely behind glass. John was considered something of a liability by his peers, as he was forever dragging rocks around the battlefield - a habit which almost led to his untimely demise when, under attack, John was unable to make the safety of his trench in time, partly due to the 600 pound boulder he was dragging at the time. A large shard of shrapnel made its way through his trousers into his right buttock, and it was whilst convalescing in a camp-hospital that he met his future wife, Nurse Eliza May of Castlemaine. John kept the boulder next to his bed for good luck, telling his new love that it would one day begin the foundation of their home. Six months later, John found himself standing on the bow of the Queen Mary IV, waving a tearful goodbye to his betrothed, and the rock that he his unsympathetic ships captain had not allowed him to add to the ships ballast. He vowed to Eliza May that he would meet her at the place where their marital home was to be built, with a rock of the exact dimensions of the one that had almost taken his life. It took John a year to find an appropriate rock in Eliza's hometown of Castlemaine, and on the 2nd of October 1920 he set out to drag it the 100 miles to Clifton Hill, there to set the foundation of their home. For forty days and forty nights he dragged the rock, attracting derisive laughter from those he passed, and developing muscular power that the strongest bodybuilder would envy. Through rain, hail, dust, snow and scalding heat he dragged that rock, arriving at his destination on the 1st of November. Not fifty meters from the Clifton Hill terminus, John sat upon his rock with the letter from Eliza in his hand to await her arrival. A row of terraces was to be built on what was later to become Dummett Crescent and with his fathers newly expanded bridge building company beginning construction of the terraces and the nearby Northcote bridge he was assured employment and a prime building position. A full two days passed and still Eliza May had not arrived. In a delirium of hunger and tiredness he vowed not to drink a drop or eat a morsel until her arrival. John's fate grew worse as the spring storms brought blustery conditions, pneumonia and bronchitis. Often the locals would gather and mutter while some good soul would tend his sores or mop his brow. Young local tearaways would play 'Scissors, Paper, Rock' with him and legend has it that John was unbeaten. Ten days passed and still no sign of Eliza. John was nearing death, but the rising sun bought the last hope; the eleventh of the eleventh, the marriage date. The pastor he had organised stayed as late as possible, but eventually he too left. Incredibly, John Dummett lasted another two weeks and died of starvation, dehydration, pneumonia and a broken heart on the 30th of November 1920. Thanks to the feral cat explosion of 1919 to 1921, Johns skeleton was picked clean within three days. Johns skeleton remained for a number of weeks before it and the rock mysteriously disappeared as the construction of the new factory went up right where John had intended to build their marital home. Some had said John's body was buried beneath the Tru-Mould Tyre Factory and others thought the verge for the new overpass had swallowed him up, enshrining his remains in the sands of progress forever. Until March 2006 when the winds of time exposed the very rock that John Dummett sat and died upon almost a century ago. At present, preliminary laser imaging of the hill behind Dummett rock has begun before a dig can commence. Legend has it an eerie glow can be seen upon the rock in the misty evening. Some say it is the glow of Johns burning heart. Others think its the ghost of the campfire that kept John comfort those lonely Melbourne nights. Others think its just a trick of the light. One thing is for sure - there's a little bit of John Dummett in all of us. And if not, there should be. Note: Word has it that Eliza May, originally from central Victoria was a little wary of John's strange advances and was last seen boarding the Orient Express on the arms of a dashing gadabout in the early 1920's. No relatives survive.
In October of 2009, the ghost of John Dummett returned to exact his revenge on the feral cats that consumed his body after he died of a broken heart. Thanks to the John Dummett Memorial Society this event was captured on video.

Acronymizable

Tone-A-Tronic's Electronic Muscle Stimulation TM is an advanced acronymizable technique used world wide for toning, reshaping, and firming thighs, buttocks, and for maintaining muscle definition. Tone-A-Tronic has been used for many years by professional athletes, physiotherapists, chiropractors, travelling tinkers and Bruce Lee.  Home Ontological Muscle Orgonic Stimulation systems (HOMOSS) allow you to supplement your regular slump into depressive-body dismorphia, without putting stress on your joints, lower back or neck and shoulders. EMS machines are ideal for today's Nordic lifestyle.  When time is limited and you can't get it up, you can hook up to your Tone-A-Tronic exerciser in the privacy of your home, classroom, super-market, office-toilet, while catching up on the dirty paper work, talking on the phone, watching TV or surfing porn. Tone-A-Tronic Electronic Muscle Stimulation systems are great for physically disabled people to prevent consumer atrophy.  Many of these EMS units include a TENS (transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation) to re-wire your versatile solution to living. The Tone-A-Tronic system works by sending minute electrical impulse(s) to the chosen muscle(s) and by depositing huge sticky wads of cash in a smashing little bank in Varosha, just south of the Cayman Islands.  These impulses copy the message your brain (if you had one) would send to the muscle(s) to make them erect with ectoplasmic gear. Most units come with their own carrying minority hill tribe and larger models have briefcases with a Hemi-donk.

Get Yours Here

Aunty K Poem

Tis eleven past midnight and i'm all alone

not a de-vice is stirring, not even a phone

where once i supposed that it may make a sound

alas it does nothing but lie on the ground

like the dead it says nothing, i sit and i stare

at the phone that ain't ringing, i hold back a tear*

 

when my phone started ringing, back on friday night

my heart began singing, man i felt alright

but then it was nothing, you'd gone and i fear

that you never shall favour a ring to my ear

 

you see i have only had one glass of wine

and although it was pleasant, i must give it time

to disolve in my liver and get to my brain

where i hope it will help to get rid of this pain

that i feel when i realise that it's far to late

for my aunt to be ringing, from a faraway state

so i'll go to sleep with a tear** in my eye

and when sleep comes singing

i'll hope you'll be ringing

but alas i fear not

 

so i sit here and cry and try not to offend

when i say that i'm sorry but this is the end

of this silly verse, wot i've favoured you with.

i'm sorry if it is a bunch of old shit

 

* I have substituted a homograph for the sake of rhyme. I trust its shape will not offend your palate

** for the sake of balance, i have not subsituted a homograph in this instance

A Boys Will Is The Winds Will

Toneatron and Carrot did a lot of work with stencils and paste-ups during an adventure on the West Coast in 2005. Of all the work they did most of it had been obliterated by the Thought Police within a matter of weeks. A couple of pieces such as the one above survive to this day. Kicking on to 5 years old now! ~ That's 36 years in Cat Years!

Dig on the way that this one has had a close encounter with someone with a pneumatic cleaning

device. It seems they got half-way through erasure and had second thoughts....or maybe the Digger in them whispered ghostly... "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." - Longfellow

Maelstrom

We found them shoved up the languishing tide, spread into infinity, such as they were. The glass, rounded and pressed, rolled in the wind of the sea, eddies smashing, crashing, burning into half-toned braces, each a tiny opaque window into another view of themselves, down, down 'til rock or mud, worms punching their way through, broken only by carapaces of the dead.  Between and above only sky and fiery screaming star, beyond, the land, beyond, the sea, I unwrapped the chips. We sat, we ate, we watched.

John Dummett returns - In a UFO!

Adam and I spotted this cloud formation to the east of Dummett Rock on Friday afternoon (25/09.09).  It's a lenticular cloud formation.  They're often mistaken for UFOs and it's fairly rare to see one over Melbourne. Kinda exciting!  A few hours later Robbie and I spotted another unusual cloud formation to the north, this one a series of equidistant horizontal curved bands.  They may have been the remnants of the first cloud formation. See wikipedia for more info.

Tru-Mould Towers - a futurescape by Kaino

Ah, the future.  Weird, scary, full of flying cars and sentient trees. Kaino's a genius :>

The roads are alive! Beware!

Something has gone wrong with the road surface.  It bubbles and bursts like lava before me, making it difficult to drive and making me appear to be horribly drunk. Many nights I have spent studying the surfaces, poking them with sticks, touching them with the tip of my tongue, fondling them, laughing with them.  Haha!  The roads, they have a mind you know, they are all connected with one another, forming a neural network and allowing them the pleasure of knowing the feel of tyre on bitumen, the slow absorbsion of slurreys of blood from road accidents, the burrr burr of death.  They enjoy the vibration of our motors, revel in the tickle of bicycle tyres.  They realign themselves at will and through their telekinetic powers fool us into thinking nothing has changed.  But it all changes, it will all change, every day the road is different.  Why, only last week I slept in my car only to awaken and find myself somewhere off the coast of Alaska, shivering in my seat.  Yes, they have found the shipping lanes!  It is only a matter of time before they find the flight paths, then the jet paths, then out into the universe mankind will travel on long slithering sleek two dimensional directors of doom.

Rock 'n' Roll and Society's Crumbling About our Ears

Let me begin by saying that I do not condone violence. Secondly, the behaviour of British MPs disgusts me. All of this rorting of the system make me believe that the system is broken. People should have been alerted to the bushfires, but the liberals at the ABC (with their 11 cents a day - for what?) deem it unnecessary to inform the public, while it is clearly their remit. 

I am not racist, but Italians do speak another language, and that's hardly speaking English in an an English speaking country is it? It's all these preservatives that they put in bread and milk which make the kids of today lack respect for authority. That's why we have stolen beermats in Thailand, house arrest in Burma and Chapelle in jail in Bali. When was the last time Wayne Swan said thank you to Mr Costello for all the fine work he did? It's the latte set who don't want to do a decent day's work for a decent day's pay and they think that super fast internet is a God given right. They probably don't even believe in God! 

My friend the Egyptian, can't even read ancient hieroglyphics, what is happening with education these days, I blame John Cain and Rock 'n' roll music for making people's head soft!

“New rock is the old rock rolling…”

Look up, quick!

Robbie and I walked out onto Queens Pde on Saturday night on the first
leg of our trip into the big city. As we arrived, the tram left, so
we decided to wander over to the bank and cash ourselves up for the
cocktail bar. Almost at the corner of Queens and Rushall I heard a
roar in the sky and looked up to see a herculean army freighter plane,
with a wingspan at least triple that of a 747. I grabbed Robbie by
the arm and pointed up and as we watched, a fiery meteorite shot
straight past the plane in the opposite direction, wobbling and
steaming as is ended its forever loop through the sky. It lasted long
enough that we had time to step back when the winter leaves of an oak
obscured our view. Beautiful!

R.I.P Luxy 2009 - 2009

I went off to the factory to put the new skins on the drums.  Adz was there and the first thing he said when I walked in was "I can't find Lux'.  I figured she was probably just out hunting for boy cats, but I went out for a look anyway.  I found her behind the factory opposite.  I reckon she was hit hard by a car on the heidelberg rd ramp and didn't even have time to be surprised.  We buried her up in the newly-christened 'Dummett Rock Memorial Park', above Dummett Rock under a tree.  Adam wrapped her up in fabric and Robbie put in a little cup of food and 5 bottle caps, one for each of the surviving factory dwellers.  She loved playing with her bottle caps.  Poor little bugger got 4 months of fun at the factory.   She came through the hole in the wall down the side of the factory and went out the same way.  R.I.P little Lux.

Junkyard Ratboy

Great day for secondhand stuff!  Got up at half seven this morning (!) and headed out to Campberwell market with Robbie and her mate Des.  Scored meself a new skin for the floor tom, new skin for the bass drum, daft punk 12", 'Caring is Creepy' by The Shins (12"), 'Ice Ice Baby' 7" and best of all 'the songs of sesame street' with the mana mana song!  And on the way home I dropped into a garage sale and picked up a plasma ball for $3 and a studded leather wrist thingy to go with my gimp suit. All up I spent about $35 and got a shiteload of cool stuff.  Tone a happy boy.  Spent last night chillin so I could get up this morning for the market.  Gonna head down the factory and re-skin the drums.  Mmmmm, beer and rock'n'roll!

This was a new hat, man!

OW! Man, my hat's on fire! What's wrong with you? You blind? Why didn't you tell me?

Tru-Mould-Tree-Mould

Found this fungal growth underneath a sheet of ply out the front of the factory.

Nature is really quite amazing!

R.S.P.I.S

On Tue, Apr 28, 2009 at 1:13 PM, Tone Rizza <tone.rizza@gmail.com> wrote:
Dear Sir.

Due to your recent silence I have been forced to assume that you have passed on.  Therefore, I have instituted proceedings whereby all of your possessions, including the deed on your house, will be distributed amongst the bugs living under your veranda.  You will be pleased to note that due to the current economic downturn, all of the notes in your wallet have miraculously turned to coins, your car has converted to a bicycle and your collection of the finest wines known to humanity is now a complete set of cottees cordials, including the new carrot flavour.

I trust this short note finds your sleeping peacefully and hope that the good lord has forgiven you your sins.

Especially that thing you did to the cat.

Yours in mourning,
Sampson L Artickleplop

--------------------
From: Kain Gardner <kaingardner@gmail.com>
Date: Tue, Apr 28, 2009 at 3:29 PM
Subject: Re: R.S.P.I.S
To: Tone Rizza <tone.rizza@gmail.com>


Sampson, you swine!

I am neither dead or repentant for crimes committed against, upon or within said cat.

It turns out that I've just been the latest victim of Somalian Sea Pirates.  You see I was taking my boat,

The Miss Jollygoodtits, out for a putter at the weekend and then all of a sudden, "Ma nabad baa?" which is Somalian for "Hello, you are our prisoners".  To cut a long story short, our captors were bodily overpowered halfway through a performance of Rodger and Hammelstein's "My, What a Wondorous Knob", and some of us (me included) escaped using a tunnel that we had dug using only the solid gold cufflinks of 1972 soul heartthrob, Bill Withers.  Sadly Bill didn't make it (shot in the arse with a poison dart), but his cufflinks found a loving home at the Smith Street Cashies.  We swam over 8,516.9 nautical miles to get home an boy were we tired!

Now I am safely re-ensconced in the Skull Throne at Castle Lightning Death.

Let the games begin!

Yours in between,

Fagan Bakery Turtlenecker

HST - Crazy Fucker with a Gun

"The idea of waking up half drunk in the middle of the night and wandering into your own toilet and realizing after not many seconds that there is something basically wrong with the noise that normally happens when you piss into a bowl full of water in the middle of the night, and feeling the splash of warm urine on your knees because it is bouncing off the lipstick-smeared snout of a dead pig's head that is clogging up your toilet... that is a bad thing to see when you're drunk."

Hunter S Thompson
Extract from " Sugarloaf Keys, Tales of the Swine Family"

Oh dear! I've re-discovered my blog!

On the way into the supermarket car-park a few minutes ago, I drove through a clear pedestrian crossing. There was a bloke standing a few meters away, obviously on the nod. After I passed, he suddenly lurched into action, stumbled through the crossing and yelled incoherently after me. As I got out of the car he stormed up to me and yelled "Give way to pedesterians mate". Yes, thats right; ped-es-tair-ians. What a fucktard!

Myths and fairy tales are not true

I thought this was an appropriate follow up to the article "The death of the Pope".

This article taken from "The world question center" in response to their 2006 question "What is your dangerous idea?"

"Myths and fairy tales are not true." There is no Easter Bunny, there is no Santa Claus, and Moses may never have existed. Worse yet, I have increasing difficulty believing that there is a higher power ruling the universe. This is my dangerous idea. It is not a dangerous idea to those who do not share my particular world view or personal fears; to others it may seem trivially true. But for me, this idea is downright horrifying.

I came to ponder this idea through my neurological examination of patients with brain damage that causes a disturbance in their self concepts and ego functions.

Some of theses patients develop, in the course of their illness and recovery (or otherwise), disturbances of self and personal relatedness that create enduring delusions and metaphorical confabulations regarding their bodies, their relationships with loved ones, and their personal experiences. A patient I examined with a right hemisphere stroke and paralyzed left arm claimed that the arm was actually severed from his brother's body by gang members, thrown in the East river, and later attached to the patient's shoulder. Another patient with a ruptured brain aneurysm and amnesia who denied his disabilities claimed he was planning to adopt (a phantom) child who was in need of medical assistance.

These personal narratives, produced by patients in altered neurological states and therefore without the constraints imposed by a fully functioning consciousness, have a dream-like quality, and constitute "personal myths" that express the patient's beliefs about themselves. The patient creates a metaphor in which personal experiences are crystallized in a metaphor in the form of an external real or fictitious persons, objects, places, or events. When this occurs, the metaphor serves as a symbolic representation or externalization of the patient's feelings that the patient does not realize originate from within the self.

There is an intimate relationship between my patients' narratives and socially endorsed fairy tales and mythologies. This is particularly apparent when mythologies deal with themes relating to a loss of self, personal identity or death. For many people, the notion of personal death is extremely difficult to grasp and fully accommodate within one's self image. For many, in order to go on with life, death must be denied. Therefore, to help the individual deal with the prospect of the inevitability of personal death, cultural and religious institutions provide metaphors of everlasting life. Just as my patients adapt to difficult realities by creating metaphorical substitutes, it appears to me that beliefs in angels, deities and eternal souls can be understood in part as wish fulfilling metaphors for an unpleasant reality that most of us cannot fully comprehend and accept.

Unfortunately, just as my patients' myths are not true, neither are those that I was brought up to believe in.

TODD E. FEINBERG, M.D.
Psychiatrist and Neurologist, Albert Einstein College of Medicine; Author, Altered Egos

Australia day rant - False Pride

I'm so proud to be australian.

No. Hang on.

Things that i'm proud of:
My musical skills.
The job i did on that table earlier today.
Having paid all my bills.

Things i'm not proud of:
The completely chance fact that I was born on a particular bit of land.

People have to do something a little more than just happen to have been born in a particular place to deserve to feel pride.

If one says that they're "PROUD" of their society, that their country is the shit, then so far as i'm concerned they're implying that the (immediate) society they live in is somehow fundamentally better than other societies (after all, how can one say that something is good without making a comparison?). This even though some HUGE percentage of our society is made up of people from ALL OVER THE WORLD. Name another land mass, people from there are living here. When people talk about pride in their country, they're talking about pride in it's people.

I'm ASHAMED to be associated with this bizarre and imaginary idea of some binding and fundamental "australianness" -
Apparently "mateship" is something that is indigenous to australia.
Apparently "A fair go" is something that is indigenous to australia.
Apparently cooking meat on a metal grill is something that is indiginous to australia.

Bullshit.

Thanks to this idea of national pride, now we've got to put up with people saying "un-australian" in place of "inhuman". That's just straight out and obvious racism, and it's PURELY thanks to the idea of pride in ones country. Want to see what happens when 'national pride' gets out of hand? Look up "nazi germany".

If not 'inhuman' then what does it mean? Let me know if you can think of a better synonym.


"Last time I checked, the world was round" - Bill Hicks.

The only time you'll ever see me waving a flag is if I also have a can of petrol and a box of matches.

I'm HAPPY to be Australian, i'm very lucky to live here, I live in a peaceful, prosperous place.

But proud? No.

___________________

in·hu·man (n-hymn)

adj.

1.

a. Lacking kindness, pity, or compassion; cruel.

b. Deficient in emotional warmth; cold.

2. Not suited for human needs: an inhuman environment.

3. Not of ordinary human form; monstrous.

A day and a night in the life of Tone

I originally intended to send this at 4, but things got all crazy and i missed the 5'o'clock deadline, so here's my night....

4pm Texas Park, Texas:
There were only one thing wot i come to a conclusion about back in the childy days of waterdale road... and that were that if yr gonna pop a bucketload of nutmeg, first thing in the morning is probably about the right time for it ;-) This after I woke up and had tunnel vision (full on tunnel vision... i could only see about a ten degree cone directly in front of me) and freaded out like. That were from just eating a whole bunch of powder.

I am of course going to have to go to the supermarket and buy myself a whole lotta nutmeg. You say grate it and boil it in milk yeah? So just a slow simmer like? For how long?

Mental picture: 60 year old kaino lying in the gutter in costa rica begging..... "hey mate, can ya spare a couple a bucks, it's not for nutmeg, it's for me grandma's sex change operation"

I'm still having troubles with me sound card as it turns out. The little bleeder's supposed to be fixed, but i still can't run cubase. And the real trouble is that i'm using pirate cubase and about 150 different plugins that are loaded into memory, and i can't be really sure that it's not a software problem. So i thought i'd test it today in another computer wot i've got lying around, and if it doesn't work on a fresh install of xp with a fresh install of cubase then i'll take it back and tell 'em to fix it. But somehow i managed to sleep away the entire day. I already tried this last night you see, and it were 6am before it were all done. And then of course, upon quiet (sleepy) reflection, I realised that I hadn't fully tested it, and so I have to do it all over again. And i had dismantled the test computer, so... putting it all back together now, installing delta and cubase and racing against the clock. I think i'm gonna be too late somehow to take it today!

5:15pm - South Carolina Plumbing Supplies
I managed to get the test machine set up and tested mr delta. And she did exactly the same thing. So I rushed to the service place and gave it to the guy. He knew who i was and that, and said he was stumped, and that he had no idea what was wrong with it. He also implied that if he couldn't work it out he would see about having it replaced. He was pretty amazed that it was the fourth time it's been in for service.

Damnit, I just went to the supermarket and completely forgot to buy nutmeg! I knew there was something i'd fogotten. But then, there always is.

7:45pm - Slovakia XXX shop
Just watched smokey and the bandit. I've got 1, 2 and 3. It rocks. You likey?
Before that, got a call from peg's mum. She's apparently had the shits with me for ages cos me and peg borrowed some videos and forgot to return them ;) Can't blame her I guess! Anyways, she got a letter from a debt collection joint a while back saying that she owed $112 + costs, and she called tonight to say that she had another letter. I'd say she would probably have killed me if i'd been within reach! So I went down the video shop and managed to talk them into reducing it to $70, paid it, then called her and told her it was all sorted. So hopefully she doesn't hate me now!

9:42pm - Northumblerland public convenience
Well, just finished watching smokey and the bandit 2, in which doris gets her oats. I spent about an hour brushing the cat. He's old and crippled and he can't preen himself proper like, so i give him a good brushdown and he looks like a million bucks. Or at least a million hairs with a cat attached. I suddenly feel the urge to mention my mangina. Oh well, guess it's time for smokey and the bandit 3!

We got a long way to go, and a short time to get there. We gonna do what they say can't be done.

3:29pm the following day - Cape Town

Well well well. My internet decided to stop working, so I haven't been able to send this until now ;> Watched 'Sling Blade ' last night, i reckon. I like very much, you should see if not already. I also drank too much wine. I thought maybe if I had a few glasses of wine I would fall asleep, but it didn't not hardly work at all! I got to sleep around 8 this morning. Got a wee headache, probably need to drink some more watery stuff. I found a mercedes benz hood emblem on ebay and I got me mum to bid on it for me, and got it for $20! They costs around $70 usually and is kinda hard to come by so I is well pleased. Some bastard broke it off on xmas day. Anyways, I shall wrap it up and give it to peg when she gets back from hobart next monday. My mum has invited me for dinner, so i'm gonna head off soon. Moved the pinball machine into the lounge. Bleedin sound doesn't work, must get that fixed (again), but apart from that she goes like the clappers. OK, i'm gonna try to leave the house now without getting the vom's.

God I talk a lot of twat.

xxx,
Enrico Bacardi

Aunty Maurine's Mildly Hallucinogenic Nutmeg Nog

Ingredients:
2-3 whole Nutmeg (nuts?) - Grated or processed in food processor
Half a cup of milk
Sugar to taste - at least 3 tablespoons
Vanilla essence - at least as much as you like

Instructions:
Grate or process the nutty things.
mix with milk sugar and vanilla in small pot
Bring to a near boil (be careful when nearly boiling milk as it happens quite quickly)
then simmer for at least 30mins to an hour.
The milk should be quite hot, but not hot enough that you lose it all through evaporation.
You should only lose about 1/5 at most - so fairly low heat.
Taste as you go, stiring every 10 mins or so. You will need to add more sugar to counteract the BITTER bitterness.

Lastly, let cool, add some icecubes and more sugar - did I tell you this stuff is bitter?
block your nose and drain the glass.

Wait 2-3 hours. You'll feel nauseaus and weird. That's about it really.

---

I got very messy yesterday afternoon.
Drank a bit, got high on nutmeg, couldn't sleep, ALL night, strange visions, (some quite DISTURBING).

3 whole nutmegs is about 3 too many methinks.

Now, am tired (sleepy wise).

But not CRAZY!

Viva la expérimentation

Kaino

Mister Money Pants

Mornin mister money pants!
Can you spare a dollar?
I swear its not for me you see,
it's for my aunty nola.

She's sick you see, or so she says,
she's got this gammy back.
and so i need a cuppla bucks,
to buy some lovely smack.

OH DEAR! I didn't say that did I?
I was quite confused!
It's not for smack, its for aunts back,
and for to buy some food.

I'll give it straight to her I swear,
I promise not to tarry.
I'll take it straight to her, i swear!
or at least to uncle harry!

Oh what a barby, there's never been one thats quite like this before.

It's the very tail end of the barby, my head hurts, the house is trashed and I seem to have had quite a good time.

After all of my mucking about restoring the barbeque, the bloody gas ran out after 2 minutes! So I had to drive to Preston and get it refilled. Cost $24 which I think is a bloody ripoff for a bit of LPG, and the guy had to fill it in between customers, and he was flat out.

My dad got absolutely shitfaced and had an awesome time. He dissapeared inside for a while at one stage and came out raving about the hot teenagers inside who were doing contortionist stuff. My mum found out shelton died of lung cancer, shit! Em and Tim came and bought salads which were terribly nice of them.

Stupid story; I was walking past peg's room, and i saw some guy in there. peg was sitting on her bed and they guy was leaning over her, and I thought it was mike, and i got a little jealous (i know i have no reason or right but i did anyway). So I walked past, and when i got about halfway down the passageway peg yelled out to me and i went in there... and it was my DAD!!

Johnny, Veth, Mark and Phil came along, they're awsome fun. Within half an hour they had a fire going and the guitar out and were taking turns at singing songs with everyone sitting around them.

I'm too tired to write any more :-) All in all a pretty good party! I think we might have another one next weekend, but just with the Rusti Angel boys (Johnny, Veth etc).

Happy Gazonkle Thursday!

Kaino sent me some letters that he and craig had sent which contained some extremely wacky lyrics, so I put them to music.

Check it out at http://hivemind8-tourism-board.arts-australia.com/

Barby | Still not on smack

If you're out and about, check out my mate Cos's blog at
http://www.livejournal.com/users/still_psycho/

And in particular check out his fantastic artwork at
http://www.go2globaloperations.com/tarrandfether/

We're having a barby on saturday to celebrate my fixing of the barby. Should be kinda fun :-) pretty sure a few people will show this time.

Strange News from Another Car

http://www.arts-australia.com is up and running! Yay!

This weekend has been a little strange. I ran into Kait and James McCann last saturday night, and Jame's said they had a residency for August on Saturday nights in the 7-9 slot at the tote, so peg and I went along last night. James has hooked up with shane's county (minus drunkyboy shane of course) to form a new band. Can't for the life of me remember what they're called, but they were awesome and i'm gonna go back next saturday. Ran into brad, sooty, milly, rach and the shane's county people. Sooty is VERY pregnant. It's a boy and is to be called Gram after Gram Parsons! Then we went off to a party at Peg's brother Tom's house in Brunswick. I've been to two of his parties, and they both sucked. They've just had a girl move in, and it was her birthday/housewarming party. She were very cute and friendly. I had a few beers, and then got stuck into the punch, which someone spiked about halfway through the evening: with a bottle of vodka! So I ended up extremely drunk (and for no particular reason quite upset when i got home), and i'm still (24 hours later) feeling quite, quite seedy. Woke up with a smile though!

Did a delivery for Adam this morning, it was one of the good ones. A really light table to a house about two minutes away in Rowe St. I felt a little guilty taking the guys $25!

Anyways, it's kinda cool that we've got someone else (hopefully) moving in, as it'll mean the rent and bills will be a helluva lot cheaper.

Went to my parents place for dinner tonight and had a fantastic lamb roast, the sort one would knock back a chance to run over john howard for. I got bored and realised I had my stencils and spraycans in the car, so I decorated my dad's trailer. It looks rather smashing!

So now I'm kicking back on the puter, i've got a roaring fire going and i'm programming a blog for the new site, so that we don't have to use this blogspot bizzo.

I've just changed my mind... no lamb roast is that good!

Oh, and I have somehow come to have in my posession an alto sax, and apparently tom is giving me a clarinet. Yay! Instruments are awesome fun.

Listening to: The No Doubt album "Tragic Kingdoms" which I downloaded a little while ago after hearing a track called "Underneath it All", which features Lady Saw, who is a dub riddim singer. Check it out, and if you're into dub check out Lady Saw, cos she rocks.

Hint of the day: Don't ever try to stoke a fire using your bare hands. IT BURNS! ARGH!

Fart of the day: Pfffft!

Phileas Phlambostier's Advice to Laywaid Gentleman

Philias - Kaino
Pierre Boaistuau - Tone

Dear Sir,

It has been brought to my attention that certain personages of your acquaintance are, to be put most politely, boorish, arrogant, droll and ape-men hybrids released from Dr Dencleefe's underwater laboratory.

Ordinarily, the origin and temperament of the company that you keep would be something that I would consider to be none of my concern, but in this case however, I am disturbed by the likelihood that you may be putting yourself in a dangerous situation, from which you may find yourself unable to extricate yourself from.

You see, in the course of my travels, I have stumbled upon numerous man/animal chimeras, and it is my general experience that while they may be highly amusing, liable to enthrall with bawdy tales and no slouchs at the bend of an elbow, they do have the unfortunate tendency of erupting into sudden and uncontrollable rages of blood lust that are often only satisfied when every limb in the room no longer belongs to it's original owner.

I suggest that you take the following action.
By means of: telephone, telegram, telex, electronic mail, wiregram , pigeon, semaphore, pneumatic tube, facsimile, televisual reproduction, fibre optic transmission, postal service, courier, flim flam sing-a-gram, psychokinesis, autosuggestion, subliminal advertising, public notice, sky-writer, public address system, the Emergency Broadcast System, tapdance, Morse code, dispatched rider, runner, manservant, diplomatic pouch, airmail, seamail or chain letter; contact said brutish freaks of nature and inform them that due to circumstances beyond your control, you will not be able to remain friends with them. If pressed for further details, inform them that your father is in the secret service and if you were to say any more, you'd be putting his life in danger. If your father is no longer in the realm of the living, claim that the ghost of your father is haunting you and you are afraid that you'll soon slip into a state of morose terror and you really wouldn't like anyone to see you like that. If they insist on a more "conventional" explanation, ask them to sit down and take them by the hand, then look deep into their eye/eyes/photoreceptive tongue flange, say "It's not you, it's me" and burst into tears while sweeping dramatically from the room.

I hope this helps.

I am always sir,
Your humble servant

Phileas

---

Phileas.

I understand your concern, but I assure you that my unfortunate friends deformities do not reach beyond the surface, and are therefore no reason to be looking into eyes or photoreceptive tongue flanges. Janet's webbed feet were caused by too much FGF signalling in the apical ectodermal ridge when she was in embrionic form. This does not make her a duck-woman, it simply makes her a strong swimmer. Paul's phocomelia was the direct result of his mothers inability to handle morning sickness and her subsequent use of phtalimido-glutarimide, street name - thalidimide (although i'm sure the mother cannot be blamed in this instance). The fact that he was cruelly known as wombat-boy throughout his school years does not make him a chimera, and does not in any way affect the functioning of his mind. I do not appreciate your blatant discrimination against these otherwise perfectly formed beings. Please keep your country town small mindedness to yourself in future. As soon as Paul and Janet are released from the facility for the criminally insane I shall inform them of your unkind comments and suggest some form of retribution, possibly in the form of some sort of gene mutation therapy, that you might begin to understand.

May your children be born with extra toes.

Yours as always,
Pierre Boaistuau.

---

My dear Pierre Boaistuau
It is almost obvious that I am indeed too late and you have in some way already been influenced by your "friends" who go by the monikers of Janet and Paul.

I have consulted the Paramcologia Necrominon, that grand grimoire of herbal and synthetic lore and am now passing on vital details that I believe you have overlooked certain key facts in your alchemal studies of FGF signalling levels in pre-protoblastic embryos and the proteomic pathways involved in the sequestering of alpha-N-phtalimido-glutarimide.

As Sergal et al (1956) found in their landmark study (House of Horrors: The Deconstruction and Analsyis of the Medical Experimentation of the Third Reich), many mutagens produce visually non-apparent or non-destinct characteristics. Those aberrations considered to be "Gross Physical" were statistically linked to systemic defects throughout all hormone producing and chemo-regulated organs. It should be apparemt to you now, as it has always been to me, that any pysiological defect is the result of abnormal gene expression and any abnormal gene expression can theoretically lead to inhuman psychoses, uncontrolled growth spurts, knuckle dragging and fits of inane laughter - in short your companions may appear normal, however there is every chance that lurking beneath their innocent web-toed feet and armless torsoes there is a wild and dangerous murdering hell-chimp, waiting to be unleashed.

Always sir,
your humble servant
Phileas.

---

Phileas.

If you must quote 50 year old genetic theory at me, at least get your facts straight. Abnormal gene expression can cause defects in the brain, but out of approximately 10,000 cases of thalidimide induced phocomelia there has been NO causal link established with mental defect, although they can of course exist side-by-side. The fact that Paul occasionally exhibits perfectly innocuous nechrophilic behaviours has, I am sure, nothing to do with his physical defects, notwithstanding the possibility of mental scarring caused by the constant discrimination he has had to endure at the hands of those such as you. Wombat boy indeed. I am aware of your believe that blonde haired, blue eyed aryans are the only true race, but if you pay attention to the world around you, you shall find this is not the case. Perhaps I would better call you Josef Mengele you scoundrel. I have spent the last 10 years in my lavatory studying the very genetic mutations you so boldly ruminate upon, so i belive I am the expert in this case. I have not only studied the makeup of Paul and Janet, but they have been kind enough to allow me a constant supply of cadavers to study, which they assure me have been aquired by purely honest means - victims of road accidents I would assume by their mutilated condition. Paul and Janet, although perhaps occasionally violent amongst themselves, have proven to be gentle creatures of extremely mild temperament and fine manner. I can ussure you, in all knowledge and honesty, that the condition of Paul and Janets macroglial cells has not in any way influenced their day to day behaviours, and that their intent is nothing if not honorable.

Pierre Boaistuau,
By unanimous Order of the Convention.

---

My Dear Pierrre,

This morning when Roberto (my houseboy) fetched my mail and reading slippers, I could not have guessed that when I was to open your seemingly innocuous letter, I would be confronted with an effrontery of the lowest order. In conjunction with your general and simpleminded disrespect, you dare to mention the Convention, which I myself was pivotal in establishing. The Convention, I should not need to remind you, was convened to prevent the very activity which you so erroneuosly claim, I am conducting.

Now, you being a man of science and letters, I cannot understand how y ou can label my theories of gene expression and physigony noncurrent and flawed. I have endeavoured my whole life (for more information refer to Phlambostier: In his Own Words , An Autobiography) to remain current with my scientific modeling and concepts. Every day twelve terrabytes of worldwide reaserch is distilled through my custom designed Internet Aggregator™, producing 5 to 9 daily synopses of advances made in fields as disparate as Fluid Dynamic Modelling of Chaotic Flow Systems, Nano-molecualr biomorphology, Hi-n field mathematics, Mammalian behaviour in Context of Socialist Agronomics and Sound and Image Bi-Wave Stereo Reproduction, just to name a few.

You lower yourself much as to accuse my motives in assigning a purely genetic aberration as some form of eugenic program. You know very well, good doctor, that my Professor and mentor, Dr Goethe Jeiholderstum, was captured by the German National Socialists and drawn into the Medical Experimentation Unit against his will, by Dr Mengele. When Dr Jeiholderstum refused to participate in the unit's activities, Dr Mengele ordered his death. The means by which, are even now, 60 years later, to horrible to discuss.
I have so far withheld from you a vital piece of information, which I hope, when revealed (as it will be in the next sentence) will remove the blinkers from your vision, and allow you to see me not as your enemy, but embrace me as your dedicated friend and saviour.

You claimed earlier that abnormal gene expression can cause defects in the brain, but out of approximately 10,000 cases of thalidimide induced phocomelia there has been NO causal link established with mental defect. To which I agree, in a clinical sense only. I say clinical, because I know that Paul and Janet were in fact the result of directed mutations, not those caused by the mutations which fall into the category generally assigned as bell-curve typical.
In Paul's case the use of alpha-N-phtalimido-glutarimide was the delivery agent, and in Janet, FGF signalling levels were manipulated with ultralow frequencies delivered by an overhead sattelite. I have proof of both of these statements, which I cannot hand over to you at this time, as the political protection of the programme of which Janet and Paul are the result, is still very evident 25 years after the fact, and the miliatry apparatus of the government is more than willing to carry through with the threats made by their political counterparts.

You have stumbled upon something much larger than any petty conspiracy that you might have imagined was taking place. In telling you this, I have put both of our lives in considerably more danger.
Paul and Janet and their endless supply of "legally obtained" cadavers are merely the tip of an iceberg composed primarily of the shattered good will of the research community, the mutilated remains of the innocent and the baying howls of the mutant assasins.

Oh yes, you are very much in danger.


Yours, sir
always
Phileas

---

Phileas.

I am beginning to fear that your suggestion that I cease my relationship with Paul and Janet may have some credence. I awoke this morn to find the remains of some unfortunate creature under the bed covers with me, and although P&J both claim innocence, my mansion was entirely secured and all entries and exits protected by both physical and electronic means. It also seems that they have made strange but subtle alterations to both myself and my surroundings.
A pair of buds have appeared on either side of my neck, and under close examination they would appear to be the rudiments of ears, although obviously ears without function, as the protuberances only go skin deep. My lavatory, which I ordinarily keep securely locked, was left with its door ajar and in great disarray, and the security code which I had assumed known only to myself has somehow been changed, thus disallowing me exit. I have, over the years, collected an array of ex-government anti-surveillance devices, all of which have begun to receive subtle signals. I have hunted high and low but have not been able to find anything out of the ordinary. I thought perhaps the sub-chronic neural disrupter unit was responsible, but the interference continued even after I disconnected its power source, so I am at a loss. Although the twins have disabled my security systems, their technologic prowess does not appear to extend to the physical, and thus I have managed to confine them to the eastern wing, where I hear them at their evil works. Strange howls can be heard late in the eve, and I fear that the cadavers I was assured were acquired by honest means may have not been thus obtained at all, for amongst the odds and ends left in Janet’s quarters I have found, amongst other effects, a collection of tools of the kind most oft used in the dark arts. I have fortunately kept meticulous records during my studies of Paul and Janet, including full sequence records. I have come across various anomalies which I had previously overlooked and it would appear that, although their brains are normal in appearance under the MRI scanner, there exists a variation in the 8p21.3 gene, PPP3CC, encoding the calcineurin gamma subunit, which as I’m certain you are aware is an irrefutable sign of madness.

And so, I must ask your forgiveness and beg your mercy in assisting my escape at all speed. I fear I have let pride get the best of me, as is wont to happen to all from time to time. I have delivered this letter by the expedient of allowing it to float from a chimneystack in the hope that some kind soul would find and post it. If my comments made insult it was only for the sake of scientific debate.

Forgive me Phileas,
Pierre Boaistuau

---

Dear Pierre,

I thank the saints for that fortuitous currents that eddied up and out of your chimney delivering your letter to me. I must also thank a Mrs J. Everett Bloom, who upon finding your letter lodged in her thatched privet row, forwarded it to me with haste. I am glad that you have finally come to your senses and I pause to draw strong connections between your newfound mental clarity and the physical isolation of the twins in the East wing. As I supposed earlier, either Paul or Janet (or god forbid, both of them) have developed thought powers which have enabled them to cloud your judgement and would allow them to lull victims to their doom. A recent paper by the noted Russian molecular psychologist, Alexi Smernov, has shown strong correlation between the over expression of the 8p21.3 gene (The very same gene that your enhanced scans detected in P and J) and hypersuggestive sociopathic personality types.

My first request of you is to take all sensitive documents (including any of my correspondence) and place them beneath a large black plastic pot, tied around the circumference with aluminium foil, leaving the top two-thirds bare. Ground the foil strip with a copper rod and mark out 3 concentric circles in chalk around the pot. This will act as P-system null field generator and effectively block psionic interrogation up to levels of 7.5 x 10-3 kiloFreuds (a level of psychic ability I have difficulty in believing the twins have attained.) Secondly, taking every precaution, return to the eastern wing of your manse and ensure that the defensive barriers that you have erected are holding and in no way compromised. The best defence, if possible, is the airtight sealing of the area, at least from your side. It has been reported that other C-types (the class of mutant that I believe Paul and Janet fall into), when cornered will commandeer the bodies of lower phyla orders (rats, mice and birds most typically), and utilise these beast's cunning and smaller size to facilitate their escape and retribution against those responsible for their incapacitation. With you being the responsible party, and their vengeance all encompassing, I beg you to double check your defences.

You mentioned earlier that you have been employing a sub-chronic neural disruptor unit, which is a very important piece of news if all that I have read regarding targeted gene mutation is accurate. As you are well aware, the standard sub-chronic neural disruptor operates over a wide range of frequencies by employing geometric super-heterodyne waveforms and focused diffraction gratings. I have recently utilised southern blotting techniques to analyse chromosome breakages and re-linkage ratios, and while working near a Heisengraf compensator, noticed many anomalies in the 1st pass results. I hypothesised at the time that the Heisengraf apparatus was running on an incorrect voltage and as a consequence was emitting ring modulated waveforms and my southern blot glassware was acting as a low micron diffraction grating. I had, in that experiment effectively created what you have been doing on a wild trial basis by using your neural disruptor. The irony, of which I'm sure you have already elucidated, is that in utilising a sub-chronic neural disruptor unit at high frequencies, you have undoubtedly caused further instability in the genetic makeup of Paul and Janet, in effect making them more powerful than they were before you encountered them.

It could almost be said sir, that you have created the very monsters which are now so desperate to call an end to your days.

I must retire to my conservatory and postulate on what options are available to you.
Yours,
Phileas

---

Phileas.

The brief deliverence I recieved apon securing the eastern wing has been shattered by the constant chivvying of a procession of unholy vermin. No matter how swiftly I deploy defences they are torn assunder. Of this I can be sure: There is no more humanity in this forsaken dwelling than that which resides in myself. I have been manically mixing chemicals in my lavoratory in the hope of remotely adjusting the phenotype's of my now most unwelcome guests. I have had some success in creating a mutagen whereby the brain and skull casing of a mouse can be forced to expand to almost twice it's normal dimension, but I fear this would hinder rather than help my cause if Cruveilher's theory of size vs intellectional capacity is correct. I am hoping to induce a disability that would allow my escape and the subsequent return of Paul and Janet to the Institute. I am aware that many would consider blind revenge in order, but my upbringing and subscription to aristotilean ethics unfortunately does not allow it, although in bleaker moments I find myself fighting dark, dark thoughts. Paul and Janet have made contact with the assertion that they are willing to allow me my freedom if I would join them in their plans to subvert humanity, but I have rejected their offer for reasons you are surely emphatic of. Despite your warning, but with much care, I have connected the sub-chronic neural disruptor to the aiphone via the discected brain of a rhesus monkey in the hope that it's rays would confuse my captors and thus allow me time to furthur perfect my mutagens, which I shall then administer through their drinking water. I shall keep you informed.

NUTS- ARTICLE 4 (Foodtstuffs and dried animal products)

Kain to Tone

It is an official policy of Australia Post Ltd (and in accordance with the Mailed Goods Search and Seizure Parliamentary Act of 1932- Ammended 2002) that Australia Post routinely screen mail for contraban
objects.

It has been discovered that you have attempted to ship, by air, land
or sea, within the continent of Austraila and her outlying
principalities, an object which is deemed by
Australia Post Ltd (and Section 4.3 of the Mailed Goods Search and
Seizure Parliamentary act of 1932- Ammended 2002) to be an
"Unspecified Danger."

Please respond to the above address, within 24 days, to clarify your
position, or representatives the Australian Customs Police will be
despatched to bring the matter to a swift conclusion.

Your contraban article is listed on our file as:

NUTS- ARTICLE 4 (Foodtstuffs and dried animal products)

Thank you for your attention in this matter and stay safe over the Ester period.

Yours

Jeff Gotleibson


Tone to Kain

Dear Jeff the Wanka.

You can get fucked cos them nuts are MY friggin nuts wot me mum give
me when i was born, and youse can't fuckin touch them or i'll tell her
and she'll cut YOURS off and then howl ya like that ya dirty fucken
guvment barstard! I fucken told them post office shits about me
balls, but the bird i was talkin to got all fucken oooh ahhh when i
shoed em to er and starded fucken yellin and pissin about, so i fucked
off cos i was gunna miss me bus and that. So dont fucken talk ta me
about no fucken fines cos i already put up with all that shit off her
and i already paid fucken 50 cents ta post em and ime not fucken payen
when i awredy paid ya.

fucken fuck you post office pigs!
stony

The death of the Pope

This correspondence was prompted by a conversation between myself and my mother which was prompted by her expressing sorrow at the death of pope john paul II. Me nasty ;>

Previous to this message, I had sent her a story from The Age about the pope arranging anti-condom education in Africa. There are an estimated 30 million people living with AIDS in Africa according to unsubstantiated internet sources.

---------- Francine

Yes, Tone, I agree with you that this was a very bad judgment and indeed as with many of his beliefs this was grossly irresponsible. However the bond that he created among people of all colour, religion and creed has to be admired. He had a belief that we are all equal, which would have been the teaching of Jesus. It is very often not the leader who was wrong, but those who proclaimed to follow in his footsteps.The hipocrits of this world.

Example, at St Bridgets one day I witnessed a young man, obviously in great distress begging the Priest for assistance. He turned him away. He was very wrong to do this, to pass judgment on this young man was wrong and I'm quite sure is Jesus did exist he would not have done this. It is against his teaching. However not all said Christians would or should have acted in such an unsavory manor. So that doesn't make all Christians tarred with the same brush, does it?

We can all be leaders and attempt to make changes for the better.

On the subject of the new Pope, it is quite possible that he will be black. When interviewed tonight a Priest was asked if he felt that some Catholics would object. He replied, yes very likely, however, People with such narrow minded belief have no right to belong to the Church....I think he is absolutely correct. As I said today, you cannot claim to be a Christian and be racist at the same time. When asked if he thinks one day there will be a female priest, he
replied, yes of course we are moving that way. We must move with the times. When asked if he believes one day priests will be able to marry, he replied yes, otherwise we will have no priests will we?

Perhaps, at one stage in history the great man did exist and did indeed write the gospel, however man himself has taken the written text and changed it to suit his own ideals, beliefs and interpretations. However that doesn't make all wrong, does it?
Do you know that many muslem people who have read the bible claim that they are amazed at how alike the teaching of the bible and Koran are. Perhaps once upon a time it was one but has been interpreted as man wishes to suit himself, segregating Christians into many religions as he goes along. Why don't you set yourself a interesting challenge, write to the new Pope in a polite manner and express your feelings as you have conveyed them to me. It will indeed be interesting to see his response!

I don't condone the churches denial attitude toward pedophile Priests and indeed believe that the catholic church has not done enough to protect children against these rock spiders. However Pope John Paul did try to address this problem, but not all Priests are bad, just the ones that hide in the cracks and are given refuge.

I shall be interested in your response

I also know that the catholic church is insanely wealthy and this is
also very wrong. I would not believe for one moment that this was the origional plan. Perhaps the Pope himself belonged to the wrong clan and just didn't know it???? However it is man himself that has made these mistakes and there are in fact many "good christians" who live poorly among the poor to help the poor.

love Mum.

p.s Did you know that Grandad was a Christian, attending church twice daily when a child because his parents were of different religions, albeit almost the same. How insane is that? However as the years wore on because of the way he had witnessed people behave, lie and steal, he had become dissolushioned eventually leaving the church.
In those days the churches were so segregated husband and wife were not permitted to be buried together and indeed were planted far apart.

---------- Tone

I'll let Douglas Adam's do the talking for me for the moment. This is part of a speech he made in 1998....

------- Start of Douglas Adam's Speech

Where does the idea of God come from? Well, I think we have a very skewed point of view on an awful lot of things, but let's try and see where our point of view comes from. Imagine early man. Early man is, like everything else, an evolved creature and he finds himself in a world that he's begun to take a little charge of; he's begun to be a tool-maker, a changer of his environment with the tools that he's made and he makes tools, when he does, in order to make changes in his environment.
He looks around and he sees a world which pleases him mightily: behind him are mountains with caves in—mountains are great because you can go and hide in the caves and you are out of the rain and the bears can't get you; in front of him there's the forest—it's got nuts and berries and delicious food; there's a stream going by, which is full of water—water's delicious to drink, you can float your boats in it and do all sorts of stuff with it; here's cousin Ug and he's caught a mammoth—mammoth's are great, you can eat them, you can wear their coats, you can use their bones to create weapons to catch other mammoths. I mean this is a great world, it's fantastic. But our early man has a moment to reflect and he thinks to himself, 'well, this is an interesting world that I find myself in' and then he asks himself a very treacherous question, a question which is totally meaningless and fallacious, but only comes about because of the nature of the sort of person he is, the sort of person he has evolved into and the sort of person who has thrived because he thinks this particular way. Man the maker looks at his world and says 'So who made this then?' Who made this? — you can see why it's a treacherous question. Early man thinks, 'Well, because there's only one sort of being I know about who makes things, whoever made all this must therefore be a much bigger, much more powerful and necessarily invisible, one of me and because I tend to be the strong one who does all the stuff, he's probably male'. And so we have the idea of a god. Then, because when we make things we do it with the intention of doing something with them, early man asks himself , 'If he made it, what did he make it for?' Now the real trap springs, because early man is thinking, 'This world fits me very well. Here are all these things that support me and feed me and look after me; yes, this world fits me nicely' and he reaches the inescapable conclusion that whoever made it, made it for him.

This is rather as if you imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, 'This is an interesting world I find myself in—an interesting hole I find myself in—fits me rather neatly, doesn't it? In fact it fits me staggeringly well, must have been made to have me in it!' This is such a powerful idea that as the sun rises in the sky and the air heats up and as, gradually, the puddle gets smaller and smaller, it's still frantically hanging on to the notion that everything's going to be alright, because this world was meant to have him in it, was built to have him in it; so the moment he disappears catches him rather by surprise. I think this may be something we need to be on the watch out for. We all know that at some point in the future the Universe will come to an end and at some other point, considerably in advance from that but still not immediately pressing, the sun will explode. We feel there's plenty of time to worry about that, but on the other hand that's a very dangerous thing to say. Look at what's supposed to be going to happen on the 1st of January 2000—let's not pretend that we didn't have a warning that the century was going to end! I think that we need to take a larger perspective on who we are and what we are doing here if we are going to survive in the long term.

------- end of Douglas Adam's Speech


My main problem with religion is simply this... it is UTTER NONSENSE. I was an agnostic for a while... but the idea of a god as the creator of the universe never satisfied me. So I thought, and thought, and thought, and eventually I realised that the only logical conclusion was that one may as well assume the world is an egg laid by a giant chicken from mars.

I have no problem with belief, I think people are free to believe whatever they like. But... for example... if you were to tell me you believed that the the world was an egg laid by a giant chicken, I would probably think you were mad. And I honestly don't see the difference. Sure, religion has it's uses, it's a good way to keep people stupid, to stop them questioning life, the universe and everything, and it's a good way to force people to stick to church (state) approved morals, but i'm afraid I cannot respect ridiculous and nonsensical belief.

Having said that, I am perfectly happy for people to be mad, I may feel a little sorry for them, 'they know not what they do'. I find the form pope john paul's inaction regarding the molestation of children in his organisation completely unforgivable. I'm sure hitler did some good things, in fact, there is a reason that he was so well respected before he lost his mind and tried to destroy the world. He was a fantastic leader right up to the point he went mad. I really don't care about the good things the pope did in his time because I consider his inaction regarding the molestation of children COMPLETELY UNFORGIVABLE.

Lets pretend for a moment that the pope was "The Boss" and his priest's were "Employees". And lets pretend that his business was "Child Care'. It's not that far off the actual situation. OK, so lets say that one or more of his employees is caught molesting the children.

I would expect, and I'm sure anyone would expect that the employee would be reported to the police, and would be fired instantly.

If the employee DID NOT report the crime and continued to employ the person, then I would consider THEM to be guilty of a crime.

The pope had massive influence on millions upon millions of people, and this put him in a position of enormous influence, and hence enormous responsibility. And I think, as a leader with such influence, he failed dismally. I know people are ultimately responsible for their own actions, but we are all influenced by other people, and we're particularly influenced by people that are considered by society to be "spiritual leaders" (hence the name).

And I have come to the logical conclusion that, through action and inaction, the late pope failed the world.