Saturday, July 04, 2020

Our fuckwit Prime Minister Scott Morrison's War Games

Friday, July 03, 2020

Driving to Thornbury

I am too intolerant to drive now a days, I just need to hand my license in, because people are fuckwits, just fuckwits. If I don’t drive, I don’t have to go out and mingle with the fuckwits.

I know I have a somewhat of a take no prisoners driving style, but, hey, I’ve never had an accident. But, if I am driving somewhere, I like to get there. And as Lottie used to say from behind the wheel as she was fanging it through the suburbs, “Get on, or get off.” But then we all used to drive at 80 kph back when I first learned to drive. I remember on occasions following my dear old mum some place, I could never keep up with her, she was just a set of tail lights somewhere in the distance.


I was following a 4WD that put is righthand blinker on whenever it did fuck knows what, all the way up Smith Street and then Queens Parade, at 30 kilometres per hour I might add. I wondered if the driver had blinker Tourette’s. I was praying to god they would veer off the road suddenly and crash into a power pole, but as that didn’t happen it is more proof that god doesn’t exist.

I followed a learner drive who came up to the lights in the right lane in front of me and immediately put its left hand blinker on. When the lights turned green we proceeded forward and the leaner attempted to move into the left-hand lane, when he had veered back into my lane for the forth time, inexplicably, I tooted him. As I tuned up High Street the black 4WD behind me tooted me aggressively, I assume for me tooting the learner driver.

There was traffic everywhere in High Street. And old wog man in a gigantic Buick, as big as some people’s lounge rooms, who presumably got sick of waiting in the side street to turn right into High Street, just planted his foot and came out into two lanes of heavy traffic. I saw him coming out and slowed down, the car behind me and the car behind it had to pull up quickly, however, the bloke coming from the other direction didn’t see him coming and slammed on his brakes at the last minute skidding very closely to a parked car, the car behind him skidded to a stop right up the guy in fronts arse, as did the car behind it, as the large sky blue Buick accelerated steadily with a huge cloud of blue smoke pumping out both of its twin exhausts.

A nun in a mini van who stopped in front of me, veered into the middle of the road and swung the front of the car to the left, presumably going to do a reverse park, then proceeded to move forward swung over on the wrong side of the road, then swerved back onto the left hand side of the road put its left hand blinker on and turned right into a car spot.

When I came home, I came from the north up my street. A truck came from the south and stopped in front of my place. I was going to turn into the lane behind it, but there was truck in the laneway which we all then waited for it to go. Another woman came from the south, stopped for a while because the truck and I were blocking the road, then she drove forward and blocked the truck coming out of the lane. Then proceeded to toot the first truck. And had no idea why any of us weren’t moving.

And that was just driving to Thornbury.

Sunday, June 28, 2020

Christianity is so last century

Friday, June 26, 2020

In What Kind Of Fear Do People Live?

I rode my bike to Royal Park. It was a cool day despite the sun shining. It was a nice day for a ride.

On my way home, I was crossing slowly over from the bike track in Park Street to head up Canning Street to home, there was a woman crossing Canning Street, behind who I was going to go. She had on head phones, admittedly, and she saw me out of the corner of her eye kind of at the last minute before I would have passed behind her. When she did, she recoiled, ripped the head phones from her ears, gave out a cry, as though in pain, like a baby harp seal might as the club hit it in the head, and staggered backwards into my path and nearly lost her footing on the bluestone surround of the median strip in the middle of Canning Street, very nearly tumbling over backwards.

“Keep going,” I said. “I was going to go behind you.”

She ended up, what I would call, laughing semi hysterically, like Lisa Simson laughs hysterically, standing in front of my bike.

Of course, I nearly fell off my bike onto the median strip in the middle of Canning Street too trying to avoid her.

I have to say, I was kind of shocked by her reaction.

It all happened in a few seconds, of course, but as it was happening, it was like a slow motion car crash, nearly a car crash.

Thursday, June 25, 2020

Racism is just a sad waste of energy

Tuesday, June 23, 2020

I Love Vegemite, but I Hate The Vegemite Song

Patriotism, I don't buy it, it leaves me cold. It is mindless and unthinking. 

It is a cliched snoozefest. Aussie, Aussie, Aussie. Blah, blah, blah.

It is The Borg. And what makes us great is our difference.

It is join the dot living. You know, when life was meant to be expansive.

It is try hard. When everything that is great, is just a little humble.

I love Australia because it is naturally a part of me, I am Australian.  We are strong in our sunburnt country, our open spaces, and our vastness. We have that smugness when we are overseas that we can visit, and see, and drink everything in, but we always have the greatness of our island nation calling us home.

I love having an accent when I travel. I like people commenting on my voice. I like hearing another Australian voice in a crowd when I am in London, or Rome, or Amsterdam. It is like being gay, when you meet another gay guy there are just certain things you know. Unspoken things.

I like the idea of nationality, of course, we all do, it is where we are from, and I guess I am saying that that should be quiet, it should be reserved, never loud and obvious.

The emotive speeches, and the parades, and the hands on the hearts are just window dressing, I always suspect, for people who are emotionally stunted. Conservative voters, and the like. You don't have to spruik all "that", when you were born into "it" just naturally.

Loud patriotism is the safe refuge of the art that matches the couch. Loud patriotism is a yawn. It is obvious.

Friday, June 19, 2020


OMG! My pet hate. Now listen clearly, children, because a lot of you have great difficulty with this one. If I am in the right hand lane next to you and you are in the left hand lane and there is a parked car, or your lane stops for whatever reason, you must stop. You cannot come over into my lane because, very simply, I AM OCCUPYING THAT SPACE. Are you as dumb as a box of rocks, or what?

A woman in a black Lexus 4WD tried it as I was on my way back from the vet. She just put on her blinker and started coming over.

“Um, hello, I’m right here.”

She had to slam on her brakes at the last minute. She gave me the dirtiest look and raised her hands off the steering wheel in a WTF gesture, when I didn’t, oh I don’t know what, evaporate so she could continue, I guess. And when I said, “Fuck off and die you stupid bitch,” (Oh yes, I know, the things you say in the privacy of your own car) she could clearly lip read, because then she came after me tooting her horn like a mad woman, which, I must admit, I found hilarious.

At the lights, she came right up behind me, still tooting, and revving her engine. Duffy’s, Rain On Your Parade (Ironically) was playing in my car, to which I started doing double fingers up to her to the beat, (Yes, I know, how old am I?) at which point she put her hand on the horn and held it there, and revved her engine furiously. Suddenly, I was in Mad Max. Oh, I haven’t laughed so much since granny got her left tit caught in the mangle.

Seriously, get a grip woman!

Then the lights turned green, and I accelerated away from her, quick as a flash. I couldn’t have her fumbling it and crashing into the back of me. She clearly attempted to keep up behind me, I’m guessing, in an attempt at intimidation, but all she saw was me disappearing in the distance.