Disordered Thoughts and Curmudgeonly Ramblings
The local press has recently taken to referring to home methamphetamine operations as “clan” (short for “clandestine”) labs.
I’m sorry, but I just can’t hear that phrase without envisaging the operators dressed in pointed white hoods, baking up their cold pills over a burning cross…
ACTOR and musician Davy Jones, who gained fame with the 1960s band The Monkees, has died in Florida at the age of 66.
A representative for Jones confirmed that he died on Wednesday morning of a heart attack in Indiantown, Florida.
Good lord! Powerhouse is 75 years old!
Well done Mr Scott!
Once again I really must apologise for yesterday’s post. It’s just that bad poetry really gets to me. Particularly bad poetry inflicted on the public by the privileged.
It’s my problem, I’ll deal with it.
I was thinking maybe I’ll scrawl the following onto a slate tile and post it to the manager of the markets with a cover letter saying “I understand you’re accepting donations of pieces of rock decorated with poorly rhymed political manifestos and would like to contribute to the collection”…
One day I want to be the king,
So I can own everything,
Except for swans it seems,
Which I’m told belong to Elizabeth the Queen,
And so one day you must give everything,
To the person who is your king,
By which I mean me,
See?
In the meantime, here’s this.
There’s a new market opened up in Morley, in the old Coventry’s building.
Outside the new market in the old Coventry’s building is a giant lump of iron ore.
On the giant lump of iron ore outside the new market in the old Coventry’s building is a plaque.
On the plaque on the giant lump of iron ore outside the new market in the old Coventry’s building is a group of words that the very charitable might concede to describe as something resembling a poem.
A poem apparently written by mining magnate Gina Rhinehart….
Our Future
The globe is sadly groaning with debt, poverty and strife
And billions now are pleading to enjoy a better life
Their hope lies with resources buried deep within the earth
And the enterprise and capital which give each project worth
Is our future threatened with massive debts run up by political hacks
Who dig themselves out by unleashing rampant tax
The end result is sending Australian investment, growth and jobs offshore
This type of direction is harmful to our core
Some envious unthinking people have been conned
To think prosperity is created by waving a magic wand
Through such unfortunate ignorance, too much abuse is hurled
Against miners, workers and related industries who strive to build the world
Develop North Australia, embrace multiculturalism and welcome short term foreign workers to our shores
To benefit from the export of our minerals and ores
The world’s poor need our resources: do not leave them to their fate
Our nation needs special economic zones and wiser government, before it is too late.
Now you’re going to have to excuse me here, because bad poetry is something that really gets up my nose, to the point of making me almost irrational. So I beg your forgiveness in advance for the tone of what I’m about to type…
WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? WHAT IS THIS FUCKING CRAP PIECE OF SHIT DOING IN A PUBLIC SPACE!?!?!?!?!?! WHAT IN GOD’S NAME MAKES GINA FUCKING RHINEHART THINK SHE’S CAPABLE OF WRITING GODDAMED FUCKING POETRY WITHOUT THE SLIGHTEST CONCEPTION OF METER AND/OR SCANSION AND THAT THE PUSTULANT CRAP PRODUCED IS WORTHY OF BEING PUT ON PUBLIC FUCKING DISPLAY!?!?!?! IF A FUCKING TWELVE YEAR OLD HANDED THIS IN TO ME AS POETRY I’D TELL THEM TO FUCKING REWRITE IT!!!!!! YOU CANT JUST FUCKING ARRANGE A BUNCH OF FUCKING RUN ON SENTENCES OF WILDLY VARIABLE FUCKING LENGTH AND STRESS INTO COUPLETS AND CALL IT POETRY FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!!!
FUCK!!!!!
Ahem. Sorry about that. Meter is something trivially easy to get your head around, yet so many people seem to be completely incapable of comprehending it, and it really gets me steamed.
Obviously 😀
A somewhat more reasoned critical analysis of Rhineharts lyrical atrocity may be read here.
The title is a pun…
OK, I couldn’t get the code installed to take the Wyrmlog offline in protest over SOPA/PIPA today. Let’s just pretend, OK?
Here’s some info about the issue.
Saw the Doc yesterday and he’s confirmed that I probably have typhus. I’m on some pretty powerful antibiotics (the kind where you can’t go outside because your skin will slough off on exposure to sunlight) that should sort me out in short order.
I hope.
We built this city on Rock and Roll…
Thanks for the concern everyone. I’m feeling a bit better now – mentally if not physically – and can start to think about what went wrong without wanting to curl up and die.
On the physical side I’m sick as a dog, so it’s probably best that I got of the ship when I did – I’d rather be sick as a dog at home than in the middle of the Tasman sea. There’s at least the chance that I’ve caught a mild case of typhus off a tick that attacked my leg, but I’m off to see the doctor today who’ll presumably give me a firm diagnosis and some pills to fix it.
As a final note, if I can pull myself together enough to get the plugin installed I intend to take the Wyrmlog dark tomorrow as part of the worldwide SOPA/PIPA protest. So if you come to visit and there’s nothing here, don’t panic. It’ll all be back to normal soon enough.
On another subject, may I present this?
Oh, ok then, no 😉
Happy New Year to all and sundry!
In accordance with ancient tradition* here is your New Year Stoat!
Let’s hope 2012 is a good one.
(* which I’ve just made up…)
A Merry Christmas to you all!
Had a great time catching up with the guys at Trigg Beach on Saturday (photos are up on my Flickr stream). I ended up taking home a fair bit of leftover food, and ate some of it yesterday, which probably has something to do with me waking up this morning with a case of either food poisoning or gastroenteritis. Not fun, but after drugging myself up and sleeping until 4:00 I’m feeling somewhat more human. Somewhat.
In other news Kim Jong Il is dead. Hold on to your hats everyone, this is likely to be a bumpy ride…
