Two thousand cents.

I found twenty dollars on the ground, which was the about the best thing that happened to me today.

Finding free money on the ground is always a cause for celebration. I had a quick look around hoping that maybe there was a little more.

Months ago I lost fifty dollars. I’m sure that someone picked it up. By the law of karma then, I should be getting ten times that back. So I look forward to finding another $480 on the ground in the near future. God knows, I really could use the money as the Government keeps taxing me up to the eye balls.

This is the opposite of what the Chinese Government does to the Tibetan region. They exempt them completely from taxation and provide around 90% Tibetan revenues.

You’d think that people who are so well taken care of would be a little more grateful.

It is a little known fact, like most of the waffle that floats around about Tibet – the ultimate in soy latte causes – that before the Chinese it was a feudal Theocracy, and the Dalai Lama lived like a King while the population starved and groaned under the tithes they were to provide to local temples.

For most people, it is really easy to like the Dalai Lama. I’m sure he is a lovely chap. For me, it an abhorrence that liberal thinkers would seek to demand the Chinese Government return control of a region to someone who is “elected” only by divine right.

The Chinese don’t have a lot right. But at least it is a Government of this Earth.

Speaking of God, I was talking to someone today and said that in the next life I was going to make everyone pay.

The way I see, being the benevolent being that I am, I will be going to Heaven. And as Heaven is a place where you get to do what you want to do all the time, I’m going to gut every single one of you bastards with a paring knife for all of eternity.

I look forward to seeing you all in time.

Above: My paring knife is going to get very blunt.

Saw feet.

Last night I dreamt that a young woman was arguing between the affections of four men.

None of them was exactly perfect. All had a deal breaker.

The young girl had a monkey. It was a cute thing and I pat it and said, “Hello cute little monkey.”

The girl couldn’t decide who she was going to court, so the monkey took action.

Luring them aside on at a time, it attacked and killed them, then fastidiously cut each body part off them with its claws, and built a Frankensteinesque boyfriend for the girl.

The girl was happy, and her new boyfriend – and the monkey – lived happily ever after.

Buy whatever these people are selling.

Steak for dinner tonight.

The Government’s of Australia, at all levels, love telling the Australian people how to act, behave and think. In the convict colonial past of Australia, the authorities would simply whip those dissenting voices into submission. Now though, it has to lower itself to the level of nagging that a vindictive and selfish wife would impart on some poor bastard who ought to have kept his dick in his pants and not have impregnated some dozy cock trap jail keeper.

It is rather embarrassing to think that a visitor to Australia would find it startling the amount of Government “campaigns”, often with a fine against a perpetrator, that the average Australian must bear witness to each and every day.

Recently in Brisbane, the local Council rolled out a campaign about the evils of jaywalking. Something along the lines of “Green means go – Red means stop.” Well thank you for the update, but regardless, I’m not waiting on a corner when I can cross perfectly safely without the aid of your fascist little green man. If I die – well hell – it is my life.

These often mundane quips of wisdom from our elected overlords are, of course, funded through our tax dollars and rate payments. Que another thank you.

The latest one from the Queensland State Government is the “One punch can kill” campaign. Designed to stop young men from beating up some punk giving them some lip while out drinking, under the guise that the women folk will love you heaps more.

Above: A poster from the campaign.

Big tits and blond hair aside, any man who falls for this nonsense ought to find a surgeon who can remove the hand of woman from their penis, and inject a little bit of balls into their veins.

What this campaign represents is the slow emasculation of all men, beginning with the effeminate “metrosexuality” curse brought upon us, and ending with men perfectly content with wearing a pink shirt, with the collar up, and who wouldn’t slog someone because they would be worried about getting a little bit of blood on their hands.

It is a sad indictment on the Australian public, who, in their silence, allow any Government to dictate any term of their behaviour. Sure, the law says that if you slog someone, then there is a fair chance that you will land an assault charge. But, that is where it should stay. Deliberately trying to change the very nature of people, and guide them, rings of a nursery 1984.

As an adult, I can make my own choices. I don’t need to be told.

Fuck the Government. We will hang you all one day.

I have spoken.

Insolent dogs.

Gov. Eliot Spitzer has recently resigned after being caught in a prostitution ring.

The cries from the moralists are near deafening, and I imagine that there are quite a few journalists out there having a hard time not slobbering over the gratuitous details of one man and his penis’ journey.

Above: Gobbles Governor cock.

I’m sorry, but I just can’t feel bad about the guy. I know that if I was in his position – moneyed, powerful, and with the opportunity, I would jump at the chance of having her gagging on my bell end.

There aren’t too many journalists out there asking why a married man felt the need to go out and get a good looking hooker to blow him? I’ll tell you why – because it would all come squarely, and fairly, down on the wife. Yes – the wife. And that is not something that we “need” to say in this overtly media controlled PC world. But, like everything else I believe – it is the truth.

We all know the joke that women make – why is a bride smiling at the alter? Because she knows that she has given her last blow job. Ha ha, bloody ha. The joke is on you now woman – and the rest of your ilk. If you don’t give your husband a good blowjob occasionally, this is what happens.

That should serve as a warning for any other woman reading this. Want to keep your husband? Get down on your knees and suck cock. Men need it – like women need a cupboard full of shoes to fill in their essentially vacant and miserable lives – men need to give a shot in the mouth so they can remain faithful and on course in this dreary, and quite often, pointless void of a world.

I have spoken.

Above: Poor bastard with probably frigid wife.

Imbeciles.

I got distracted doing something or rather.

It really isn’t important that you know now what exactly I was doing, but be sure, I don’t really give a fuck.

I like the way a woman smells when she gets out of the shower. Especially when she is using a shampoo that smells like coconut.

Then, when I’m in the shower masturbating vigorously, I can imagine that I am a Spanish explorer who stopped off on a South Pacific Island and decided to pull up for a bit, land ashore, kill every living male, and rape and stab every woman.

Rudd reckons that he is going to spend in the order of $53 million dollars telling you that you shouldn’t drink so much.

Welcome back. Everything remains the same. A Government that has the only goal of controlling all of your miserable lives so that you better fit into their corporo-fascist-capitalist equation.

Government is best which governs least.

Watch some Stereolab you fools.

If you know what band the first part of the video is a tribute to, I won’t have you swing from a rope when the Great Passing comes.  But you are all generally useless and don’t expect much.

Environmentalists talk drivel.

A. Despite what the Australian media says, there is no such thing as “Australian Antartic Waters”. No claim to the Antartic is recognized by any nation. Witness the attempt of Russia to claim a great swathe of the Artic by sticking a flag on the sea floor under it. Therefore:

B. What Japan does in the waters around the Antartic is their own business, as it is considered International Waters. Therefore:

C. If the Japanese want to kill whales, as they are not bound either by the waters that they do so in, or by any treaty the International Whaling Commission comes up with, they are free to do so – regardless of whatever excuse or pretext they place it under. Therefore:

D. The Sea Shepard Organization and the crews aboard its vessels are criminals who are hindering a perfectly legal exercise by a sovereign nation, and do not deserve the tactile quasi-recognition afford to it by the Australian Government. If any other group hindered the free exercise of the will of the people and the state – we would call them terrorists.

Whale meat tastes good and the Japanese should be allowed to eat it if they want.

Above: Christina Ricci’s tits for your consideration.

Stereolab and the Time of the Great Flushing.

It is official. I am tired of the new Australian Government.

I’m sick of that snarky looking bureaucrat and his pompous entourage of chardonnay sippers and soy latte drinkers.

One hundred days in power and all the Government has to show for it is a myriad of committees and a lot of sod and symbolic nonsense.

I elect Governments under the pretext that they do something. Not stand around and talk about doing something, or pass it off to others so they can talk about it a little more, and then come back and talk some more.

This is the failing of the chattering classes. This is why they are never relevant and are a stain on the belly of public discourse. Because it doesn’t matter how dire the situation, they need to talk a bit more, have another double soy, flat latte, in an “environmentally friendly” cup, that is really just a receptacle of the hubris of the corporation that is smiling while it fucks an ever ignorant consumer who wants to feel good about the Western life they lead – but doesn’t need the guilt for the life they have – up the arse, and smiles as it busts a load over its ignoble back.

The only two points which the Government seems to be wanting to do something is, firstly, banning plastic bags, and secondly, curbing or stifling binge drinking.

Great. The populace hands you a huge majority and this is the best they can come up with?

I don’t really care what Governments do generally, as long as it is within the bounds of the law and doesn’t infringe on the liberty of its citizens. Both of these take a big flying shit on the latter.

If I want a plastic bag, God damn, I’m going to take a fucking plastic bag. If I want to get loaded and have a big puke in the street and cause all types of havoc, then that is my right – As long as I am willing to accept the consequences.

Fuck this Government.

You know what it is? It is a smoke screen for what they are really doing. It is an attempt to look like they give a doddle about social issues, and the welfare of Australians, but secretly, they are getting all cozy with our capitalist oppressors.

Recently, as it happening too in the rest of the world, inflation is going up. There are a lot of causes for this, however, the Government has said that it won’t allow a wages blow-out.

Arseholes.

You know what? I don’t earn a lot – I’m not on the rungs up, and to tell you the truth, I could really do with a wage increase.

But now? The Government sees me as a slave, and a slave I shall stay apparently. While those middle manager wankers and the upper classes quite happily suck every single penny out of the system – and get it – because they are one of the same with the Government. They are useless, ethically bound only to their own distorted sense of right and wrong, with a need to justify their own jobs, and forever sending their half arsed attempts at work to other schmucks for them to break their backs on, or figure through, because they are talentless hacks with nothing to offer society.

When the time comes I will kill every last one of you.

Above: The first against the wall when the Revolution comes.

Kylie Minogue is asking to be raped.

Kylie Minogue said in a recent interview with some magazine or another that she would happily be impregnated by Paul McCartney.

That is fair enough as he is currently on the market, apparently beats his partners, and used to play in a band that wrote songs about walruses and submarines. Filthy dogs.

We all know that is what that is all women want – A man who gives them a good belting, gives them a quick serenade and then unzips their fly and bust a load over their face as their cradle their newest black eye.

According to the source – I’m not going to bother finding it, you do the research – Kylie is aching to get pregnant, and McCartney is the man.

I feel that if a good looking Australian woman feels the need to have a rich, wankey Pom tosser slide it in and fertilize their nearly barren forty year old uterus, that it should be a national travesty. There are men here in Australia who would quite happily give her a few rounds.

My solution is simple. There is a fleet of submarines in Australia that currently do not have crews, as the current generation doesn’t think dying under a second atmosphere of water is a particularly “bravo” kind of experience.

What we do then, to solve both Kylie’s and the Navy’s problems, is simple. She should be kidnapped and held hostage in one of the submarines on a rotating basis. Any new recruit to the Australian Navy should then be given a ride on a trussed Kylie, her legs in stirrups, and her delightful wetness dripping, begging to be suppled and pumped.

When she finally falls pregnant she can be turned over and fucked up the arse for morale purposes.

Above: Needs a good fuck in the arse.

We will – Triumph over our enemies!

I am your leader. This is my photo.

I have returned from a long journey of many moons.

The Mark of Pi is amongst us! I have seen it and have the proof undeniable!

If their plans are carried out to fruition our great humanity will be enslaved as peasants in a world governed by the Biologically Enhanced Undead (BEU).

Today, they are better known as celebrities, the rich and the powerful – and they wear the Mark of Pi. With my patented photography technology I have, and continue to, record their marks for all our knowledge.

Slowly they are being withdrawn from “circulation” through mock deaths, and are sent to an island where a crew of Doctors take their old lives and inject them with an immortality serum, that has a side-effect better known as, Great Evilness. They are then, and forever more, the Biologically Enhanced Undead.

All our ends are drawing nearer. The Book of Pi tells us that the time of the Great Slavery will come when Kylie Minogue dies in a horrific accident.

Till then, all I can do is wait and record the final years of humanity.

Please, continue to read and free yourself from ignorance.