Unhappily Ever Colder and Colder

In a mere few weeks I will blow this popsicle stand and go somewhere considerably warmer, and far more humider.  Canberra is a bit popsiclised at the moment, thanks to that dreary meh season that it likes to melodramatically thrust upon its inhabitants.  A+, Canberra, for your winter skills this season.  You've been practicing over summer, haven't you?

I'm soon to travel to Florida's Disney World, where the men are mice, and the mice are human sized men.  Or something.  It's a wonderful world of make believe, where ridonkulous, impractical fairy tale fantasies are shoved into the minds and down the throats of innocent children, who are oblivious to the fact that they will never, ever be a fairy princess when they grow up.  Princess Fiona maybe.

Unless of course their mother stalks a prince throughout their offspring's teen years and then surreptitiously enrols them in the same university class so the young lass can work her magical social climbing powers of persuasion on the young royal. And then she will be given a fancy schmancy title and live happily ever after with her prince at Kensington Palace and wear Princess Diana's ring until the day she dies. The end.

So, back to me. I'm considering applying for climate asylum, putting in a claim to be sent to warmer climes because, you know,  I'm fucking cold and miserable here.  People from 'stan countries definitely don't know what it's like to freeze their grandes balles off.

Don't get all politically correct and rant about my rudeness and insensitivity in comparing my situation to that of a political refugee. Because only the nations that offer cradle to grave welfare are acceptable to them.

There are a bunch of other countries that they could stop at on the way here.  But, yes, Australia is better than them all.  Not different; better.  Just ask the refugees, because they all want to live in Australia.

I too have a lengthy list of nation states where I don't want to go, which also starts and finishes with every muslim country in the entire universe, due to the political heat and also the actual heat.  No-one in their right mind wants to live in Middle Earth, which is why they all flee to the west.  Middle Earth, Middle East, same thing.

So it seems to me that instead of intervening in Middle Earth affairs, like the west has be doing for ever, we should just raze the darn place, build a new Middle Earth, call it something a bit cooler, like the United States of America No. 2, democratise the shit out of it, build a couple of McDonalds, and then the crisis would be resolved. 

The side effects of this plan are a land of spoilt Kardashianesque morons, but at least no-one would blow your hair extensions off when you walked down the street. On a side note, why and how does Kim Kardashian have 15 million twits following her on social media? I cannot even comprehend how this has happened.  I guess she is quite excellent at giving off the allure of being relevant.  Kudos.

How to build a Leprachaun Trap

Don't be silly, I have no friggin' idea how to build a leprachaun trap, nor any idea whether they exist or not.  If you really care to build one, then go and consult The Google, the youth of today's alternative to a real education.

We didn't have Google back in my day, we just had to read about intelligent things via a hard copy encyclopedia; things like the second law of thermodynamics and the reason socialism is such a retarded idea. Just look at those Swedes for evidence. 

Circling back to topic...

All nation states have to be known for something.  It's the rules.  Take Australia for example.  Our country is known for housing kanagroos in our collective rumpus rooms, padlocking our thongs to a fence when we go into a fancy restaurant like McDonald's so no-one nicks 'em, providing cradle-to-grave welfare for people who are sick of dying all the time in their stupid middle eastern homelands, and for a bridge that looks like a steel coat hanger that is nestled near a pointy white house on a pretty little harbour.  Not too bad a list if you ask me.

Any cookie-cutter country in the Middle East, on the other hand, is known for its teatowel hat industry, barbaric dictators, and general allround suicidal nutjobs.  Ireland, however, has quite an unfair reputation as a nation of leprachauns who are generally six guinness' short of a sixpack of guinness. 

It really is anyone's guess how the numerous Irish paramilitary groups over many years have managed to roust together to mastermind and kill civilians in coordinated attacks.  Obviously the key word causing great confusion being mastermind.

And, of course, the Irish are also known for giving the world St Patrick, the Lady Gaga of all Saints, who is greatly celebrated because he brought Christianity to Ireland and because he was born this way, baby.  The Irish generally celebrate the day by getting hopelessly drunk on green beer, and the rest of the world seem to think this is a great excuse to get pissed as well.

Dear Middle Earth

Ah, the Middle East.  It's been positively ages since I wrote a word about you.  This is most likely because you haven't blown up any of our people, embassies, nightclubs or world trade centres for some time now.  I know that it certainly isn't from a lack of trying - you'll never change - but rather it is because the west have institutions that are smarter than you.  Actually, I think we have cheeseburgers that are smarter than you.

Your lack of success at annihilating the west probably also has more to do with the practical reason that you have recently lost one of the few terrorists who had a clue how to mastermind and terrorise to effect.  It is probably also because the United States have you on a permanent good behaviour bond, and a very tight leash, which gets a huge, red tick of approval from me.

But it seems we do have something in common, Middle Earth, because I would also very much approve of annihilating you and starting from scratch - seeing as all your people who are not trying to kill our troops are immigrating to the west anyway - but apparently that is a terribly racist and warmongering attitude. Personally I think getting rid of non-democratic countries and regions is just efficient global management.  But what do I know; I'm just a voter. 

Well we wouldn't need to have this conversation, Middle Earth, if your nation states stopped behaving like themselves and started democratising a little bit.  Your insurgents are slippery little suckers, aren't they?  But, lucky for you, you have the best cheer squad in the world - the west's own apologist leftist human rights campaigners, and much of our media - so anything we do to you is deemed racist, but anything you do to us is our own fault.

Yes, that would be an own goal; it is certainly a mystery to me why those who benefit from all the freedoms of democracy need to denigrate it.  Who the hell knows why leftists think like they do. 

And then we have our Green Movement, who also hate the west a lot, even though they too fully benefit from all the freedoms a libertarian nation has to offer, like being able to sit under the eucalypts with a tofu burger without the pesky worry of someone in their vicinity blowing everyone to smithereens with a C4 belt. 

It's another great mystery why the Greens and all the other leftists harangued George W, because he bothered to try and democratise Middle Earth's most insane nation states, yet they kick and scream and whinge and whine when freedom-loving countries like Australia don't accept refugees willy-nilly.  From a point of logic and reason, isn't it better to overthrow the bad guys in the bad countries and let their citizens just be, in their own country?  Ah, sorry, I hate it when my brain gets all practical.

I have been watching the goings-on in Syria over the past few months with (relatively little) interest; goings-on being the more pleasant way of referring to what I really think about Syria and other cookie-cutter, dodgy, decrepid little countries.  While Syria may not be Middle Earth, it's just like Middle Earth, in that it would totally suck to live there.  I don't really care about Syria, or Middle Earth, but I care when civil warfare spills out of these primitive little cocoons, which it almost always invariably does with these friggin' countries, and then it affects me, and then I care.

I will eat my pom-pommed beanie if Syria ever becomes anything vaguely resembling a free nation state in the next few hundred years, but if they do, they'll probably need a Prime Minister to start their long and winding road to democracy, so they should feel free to permanently borrow Australia's own Red Queen.

Current affairs ADHD

What do you get when you cross Westminster Abbey, Bieber's six flying eggs and a bunch of Navy SEALs? Current affairs ADHD, that’s what. In the past week, the media have had me hooked on their inane sensationalistic news cycle; that being the royal wedding brouhaha, Justin Bieber's right royal egging, and the death of a loathed serial killer.

First there was P-Willy and Kate. Enough said. But also Harry, and Chelsea, and Kate's mum and dad, and the yellow Q, and Fergie's two wicked witches, and Bea's head decoration, and Pippa's bum, and Tara's nose, and Q's snub of Camilla, and the homeless-looking bishop, and Beck's OBE, and Posh's hair, shoes, garbage bag dress, baby bump, lack of baby bump, forehead hat, face, nose, mouth, eye makeup, pouting, smiling, frowning, pouting, etc etc, and the various media-created afflictions and bad wedding attire decisions of other random aristocrats and lowly-ranked celebrities I've never heard of.  Thank heavens the Navy SEALs struck bin Laden when they did or we'd still be putting up with the media's angst over the madhatter's man-made disasters.  

Bin Laden's days of hooning around the streets of Pakistan on the back of an ox and lapping it up in the glamourous mountains and cavernous rabbit warrens of the renowned tourist mecca of Afghanistan came to a dramatic end on the weekend when he was killed by a bunch of Navy SEALs.  It's always best for this type of military operation to remain covert, if for no other reason that whenever civilians (see: the media) get involved they always RUIN EVERYTHING.  Remember when the international media compromised Prince Harry's security in Afghanistan?  Dumb as dog shit.

Plus, the U.S. TV stations would have tried to get in on the action - 20 everyday Americans compete for the chance to blow out the brains of a terrorist...  Yes, that's a little uncalled for - but so was Bali, New York, London and about 500 other attacks he scripted.  True to form, bin Laden's last moments in his quasi-luxurious, cowdung loveshack involved grabbing one of his wives to shield him from the inevitable bullet in the head. Oh well, he's dead now. 

Trust the Pakistanis to be housing mass serial killers.  No surprises there.  Pakistan has been the heart of modern terrorism ever since bin Laden rolled into town.  But there's no time to rest, there are plenty more exploding fruitloops in bin Laden's neck of the woods.  So get to it America.  And it would be tops if you could please put the next one on YouTube.   

What's to say about the itty bitty Biebernator?  He performed his bouncy little routine in Australia the other night and someone egged him.  The next night he brought the "hero" bully-fighter (whose attack on his tormenter last month went viral) onto the stage to yell out a few words of youthful inspirational - that being his famous (apparently) tagline NEVER SAY NEVER! - to the terrifiyingly enthusiastic Bieber teenyboppers.  I would have preferred the Biebs to moonwalk out to the stage and tell the audience about his money, fame and bright future, and how they would never ever come close to such good fortune.  NEVER EVER EVER!!!!

The Queanbeyan peace accord

So, I'm back in Queanbeyan territory, where the men have mild mental retardation and the women are all related.  Literally, just one big, happy family.  I first moved to struggle town back in 2005 - a move inspired by the wildly successful advertising campaign  - "city benefits, country living". In reality, it's more like "welfare benefits, deadshits live here".  I moved out of Queanbeyan two years ago when the realtor sold the house I was renting without asking me if I wanted to buy.

LJ Hooker Queanbeyan - you're the best.  No, you are; you're the best at screwing your tenants over.  Nobody does it better.  And now I am back here for two weeks housesitting, in the house I used to live in.  Yes, that's unusual, but the house is next door to my sister's, so it's not that weird.  And the new owner is lovely, so it's all good.

Back in the complex, and it doesn't feel like I ever lived here previously; it feels like a completely different space, which is a little odd really.  Although, I do keep doing things subconsiously that I used to do - like reaching for a towel on a hook that doesn't exist anymore.  The furniture is different, and nothing feels the same, which is good I suppose, because I was sad to move on.

I am here looking after a neurotic cat called Cat, more formally known as Neurosis, but thankfully she answers to Cat, as it would be awkward yelling "Neurosis!" into the night.  She is a rescue cat; ie. suffering from a range of psychological disorders, and she is rather disgusted that I am in her space.  Cat and I agreed on certain things at first - like I was to leave the room when she sauntered through, and I was not to make eye contact with her.  EVER.  However, I have been here for five days and she is coming around to me, bless her little white sock paws.  And she really is so thoughtful.  I checked my diary the other day and she had added a new entry - "clean my litter box".  So very thoughtful.

There is a stray cat called Dusty that comes around for food.  He is a gorgeous little cat, and I'm told he has a home, but I believe he has the worst owners in the world, because Dusty sleeps outside this house, eats outside this house, and probably shits outside this house.  I have now de-wormed him, so maybe the poor little bugger won't be so hungry all the time.  

This is Daisy.
Her identity is protected.

And my sister has two cats - Daisy and Meg - so relations seem to be a little frosty here in Catland.  To be honest, things are less frosty in the Middle East when it comes to keeping the peace.  Cats really need to learn to get over things and stop being so psychotic and obsessive.  Muslim extremists should also take heed: get over your clan shit and stop ruining the world for everyone else.  And stop hijacking our media to garner support for your insane ideologies.  Our media is reserved for Paris Hilton and the Australian Cricket Team.   

This afternoon, when three of the cats were staring each other down, I thought it was such a beautiful day for the beginnings of a new peace road map for the complex.  So I started to go all Ban Ki-moon on them, but relations soured when Daisy decided to scrap her cease-fire and started hissing at everyone else.  You only need one Gaddafi to ruin everything.  So then I went all-Obama on them, and simply denounced the violence and walked back into my nice, cushy, ivory tower oval office where I didn't need to deal with all the bad things in the world.