Friday, March 09, 2007

R.I.P. SHANE CROSS

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

CULTS?!

I GOT THIS BROCHURE OFF SOME DIRT STINK HIPPY IN CAIRNS.
HE INTERRUPTED MY READING OF A GOOD BOOK.
SEEMS I GOT A GOOD BOOK MARK OUT OF THE DISRUPTION...

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CULTS?!

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CULTS?!

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CULTS?!

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Saturday, March 11, 2006

excrement...

CHEWING GUM. EXCESS CONSUMPTION MAY HAVE A LAXATIVE EFFECT. (POO)

JACK BLACK IN 'ENVY' WITH VA'POO'RIZE!

MEXICAN FOOD. WHEN THIS TURNS TO POO IT WILL PROBABLY BURN!


DELTA GOODREM. MUSIC POO!

KANGAPOO!!

BUSH FLAG IN POO!


WINNIE THE POOH!

BIG OLD ELEPHANT POO!

Thursday, March 02, 2006

TOP OR BOTTOM? IT'S FIVE ANYWAY.

OH MY. TV. THAT SQUARE LOUNGEY GOD SOMETIMES MAKES YOU WONDER WHERE SOCIETY TRIPS AND STUMBLES. SOMETIMES SOCIETY FALLS A OVER TOO, TO LAND FACE DOWN IN A PILE OF THE WORLDS STINKIEST EXCREMENT...
Remember Sea Quest? It's probably best if you don't. Sorry to have to remind you.

And Full House? The show that gave those glorious Olsens the key to the doors of our hearts. That poor middle one. No one remembers her name and she got addicted to powdering her nose. Also, who could forget Bob Saget, the dad who tried to keep everything running smooth? He is possibly the worst actor ever to grace the small screen we love to adore so.


Saved by the Bell!!! Screech is like vice principal or something on the new series. A little bit of hope spread over the loser population the day Screech got that job. "Maybe one day i won't be a loser no more pop", was heard echoing round the globe... Rad.


Hey Dad. Fuck yeah. One for the patriots. Home grown A grade bullshit right here. Betty. The fat kid. And the dad! Could be Australia's version of Saget.


Beverly Hills 90210. We all know too well about this hit! Remeber when Steve said, 'Give me some sugar'? I missed that episode but i saw the offensive dialogue spoken on an ad for that nights show. It was the first time i'd heard that infamous line too. WOO HOO. I bet that soundtrack was pretty dodgy too.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

@ RUBY"S

Friday, February 03, 2006

THE TRUE STORY OF STONE SOUP. AS TOLD BY ME, VILLAGE KING. pt3

THE TRUE STORY OF STONE SOUP. AS TOLD BY ME, VILLAGE KING
An Educational, Quin-Lingual Journey through Non-Linear Time
De Home poured in a bucket of my most valuable grains of savoury enhancer. Extremely heavy enhancer that I had carried over the vast stretches of the Sahara Desert four decades earlier for use as an antibiotic, salary (which is a word derived from salarium argentum which means ‘salt money’) for my Roman Centurians who I used as colourful decorations in the arid surroundings and to buy slaves with from the bandits scattered throughout the boulders and low-lying foothills close by. De Home then smiled broadly at my genius proposal of pepper being included to compliment the condiment he had predictably chosen for reasons of taste. He pledged life allegiance to I several times and I thought out loud, “It shall be a short allegiance, Waste of Air, if you do not proceed with due pace!”
In went the pepper and following it, the ladle, stirring once clockwise then once anti-clockwise. Drawing out the large spoon, De Home noisily slurped some of the soup. “An exquisite flavour, yet there may still be something missing…”
This is taking far too long. My patience is becoming as thin as your hair you floundering trout whom I loathe more with every second I pass unfed. Use what you must, though if your actions are not swift, my platinum-toed boots encountering your corpulent behind shall be and death dealt by my twin-edged-axe wielding, sociopathic Mysterious Purple Monkey’s will be the dessert of your next sample!”
De home moved briskly, swiftly, nevertheless it was not and I gained minimal relief from my advancing voracity by contemplating further elaborate ways to threaten him.
I had Igor carry me to the sanctuary of the back of my kitchen where I would be the farthest from De Home while still able to keep a vigilant eye on the malodorous drifter. To relieve more boredom I had the ogre like guards of my dungeon lug thirteen of my French and Portuguese prisoners to my execution yard, which I could view from the kitchen window I had positioned myself in front of. I had my boy slave untie the detainees’ shackles and watched jubilantly as my riflemen played fish in a barrel and listened gladly to their cheers when one of the captives would fall.At last, just as the final cheers went up and resounded through the tenements of my glorious stronghold, De Home declared that the soup was now, indeed ready and fit to be consumed by I. “Serve I a bowl then!” I turned my head upward and implored the ceiling, “Why must I endure the presence of such pitiful, boarish, inhuman types?”
still more to come...