Sunday, January 22, 2017

The Orange One

The Orange One and the third wife... fourth wife? Ivanka? Ivana? Did he marry his daughter? Which one is which? Do his children have small hands too? (his son's share a chin, by the look of them)... Oh, who can keep track. Actually, considering the old lying reprobate is 72 and he has 4 years to put in as grand poo-bah, (assassination, impeachment, humiliation on the world stage withstanding) he's not going to get a replacement trophy wife any time soon, one would think... but I digress... danced to "My Way" (yes, the song most likely to get you murdered at a karaoke bar) at his colourless, devoid of celebrity, (Kanye West turned it down and he'd perform at the opening of a wound) Irish Hoe down, from all accounts (not that there is anything wrong with that) and while Nancy Sinatra pointed out that her dear old dad would never approve of someone of the Orange One's ilk using his song, she did laugh and say, "It is quite funny, if you think of the first few lines of the song." We are all now hoping that, if anything, it is prophetic for Tiny Hands (as he wipes conservative politics off the political map like a dirty arse) and not prophetic for the world.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Me Watching The Next Four Years of the American Presidency (You can't write this stuff)

You know if you can ignore the discrimination of minorities, the sexual assault of women, the corruption, and the neglect of the environment and, oh, the possible war with China, then it'll be hysterical, lots of laughs

Friday, January 20, 2017

Did David Leyonhjelm Just Acknowledge Guns Kill People?

This is David Leyonhejelm's tweet about the incident in the Bourke Street Mall yesterday, when a man with psychological issues killed four people with his car.

So, did David Leyonhjelm finally admit the truth that if James Gargasoulas didn’t have access to a car he couldn’t run people over, in much the same way that if people don’t have access to semi-automatic assault rifles they can’t shoot people.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Christian Fundamentalists

Christian fundamentalists are funny… like, just create your own little community and isolate yourselves from the rest of society. Easy. Home school your little sprogs, if that is what you want, so they can grow up to share in your own particular brand of delusion. Be all Jesus-y in your own life, but please leave your beliefs in the fiction section at the school of life where it belongs. And stop trying to affect other people's lives with your ideas on how to live.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017


Religion is like the difficulty of riding backwards on a train, your parents tell you about it when you are a child and you accept it unquestioningly for the rest of your life.

Black birds in the park, they really are beautiful birds.
Jogging on The Boulevard, today was a gorgeous day

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

I went for a bike ride in the afternoon, yesterday. I know, I know, I should have gone earlier, but I didn't. It was hot. The sun felt like it was burning my skin when I was in its full rays for any length of time. Zzzzzzzz, like pins into my skin, a pin blanket, a needle wrap. Zzzzzzzz. All of my exposed skin felt prickly.

So today, I went at 8.30am and it was nice, early morning. It was due to hit 38 degrees today, so I had to go first thing before it got too hot. Sore arse though, for my second day of riding, but I am working tomorrow and possibly Thursday, so I had to go today to get my three days of riding in, the third day being on Friday, hopefully, when my arse won't be feeling quite so tender. Cross fingers.

Monday, January 16, 2017

Breakfast. I'm now making my own muesli again, as shop-bought muesli has a lot of added sugar and that and my banana addiction are suspected of putting on the kilos. So, I now have home made muesli and I have kicked the banana habit. And my daily walking exercise, apparently, isn't high enough intensity to lose weight, (sad face) and I enjoyed walking so, it was kind of meditative, so I am getting back on my trusty bike for the rest of the summer. Back out in the traffic, concentration turned back to high.

(I stopped smoking again. Two days, one packet, not so hard to stop, of course, I mustn't let myself be lulled into a false sense of security regarding being able to stop whenever I want, but so far so good.)