Thinking actually works.

I seem to be on a foot-long sub blog fiesta at the moment.  What's going on there?  Who the heck knows.

I had a little thought bubble today.  I know it was wrong, and I know I should just block all mental and intellectual activity as soon as it pops into my little brain, but it happened OKAY.  It. Just. Happened.  But I will be aware of it happening next time and nip it in the bud, because we can't just have people thinking all over the place.  My thought went something along the lines of this.  WHY ARE THERE SO MANY FEKING STUPID PEOPLE IN THE WORLD???


Thinking is essentially good,
but best keep your pants on.

By my reckoning, at least 50% of the population went to Dickhead College, where there is no university entrance index to get you in.  Stupid gits just allow the academia to follow them around for 20 minutes and then they're magically enrolled. 

Despite the fact that the process of reasoning and deduction is unique to human beings, shitloads of fools seem utterly incapable of stopping to think about the consequences of their actions.

What they need to do is sit down, have a good hard look at themselves, probably note at this point how poorly attired they are, and perhaps note that the world won't complain if they pull their pants up or wear a dress that covers their arse, and then do the exact opposite of what they were going to do because what they had planned was essentially a really stupid idea.

Look to The Thinker as an example.  Sort of.  I'm about to give you pretty much the best advice anyone will ever give you so inhale it in. 

In so much as thinking is GOOD, it is usually best you keep your pants on while doing it, particularly if you are sitting on a bench in a public park or on a rock at The Gates of Hell, otherwise known as the security checkpoint in the lobby of your workplace.  Swans, especially, don't really approve of public nudity.  There's not much swans do like.  I love swans; they are my kind of people. 

Ramping Up

I haven't blogged for three-ish weeks. What's with that? Let's see, what's happened in that time. I went to Mustique, I got papped on the beach by some boganey bogans, I got called a 'shop window mannequin' by some depressing author who pens books in a novel, publishable-type manner, and then I did this and that and stuff and thing.

I quite frankly can't be bothered to construct complete sentences, but who can blame me, I am a royal after all. Oh, hang on, sorry, I think I'm getting my life muddled with that of Duchess Kate.

In the last three weeks I have been to the dentist. So there, Duchess Kate. Our paths are so eerily similar is shocks me. But shit got weird today. Very, very viard. Everything was just ticketyboo until I accidently drove up a ramp onto the back of the truck. I know. Weird.

Like there aren't enough things to worry about when I'm whooshing around in my Toyota; now I have haphazard ramps to add to the list. Rampophobia; look it up people. If anyone from AAMI is reading this, you're not really in a position to pass judgement, because I've seen your ads. You would insure a tractor-driving monkey if it could afford comprehensive.

The Incredible Shrinking Mountain

I don't know if this is an Australian thing, but plastic bottles ain't what they used to be. Coca-Cola Amatil, the makers of the deliciously tasteless Mount Franklin spring water beverage, have decided that the best way to completely piss off the thirsty people of Australia is to use 35% less plastic in their new easy-crush bottles.

That's great, CCA executives; a container that's easy to crush when empty. But you know what that means? It means it's also friggin' easier to crush while your drinking it.  Or when you twist open the lid a bit too heavy-handedly.  I bet this was one of those massively stupid decisions that chief executives make when they are brushing their teeth in the morning. 

I thought I was bulking up a bit too much at the gym before I read the side panel advertising the incredible shrinking bottle. CCA claims that one little bottle now creates a carbon footprint that is 27% lighter than the previous little bottle. A lighter carbon footprint, my arse. You sell your products in plastic, you dickheads.  I imagine it's more to do with reducing overheads than saving the world, but kudos where kudos are due.

All the inner city hipsters with their hippy, environmentally friendly lifestyles have probably whipped out their special wind-powered calculators they use to measure the square root of their carbon footprint and have figured this is a good enough deal to stop drinking water straight out of a grimy tap in a back alley and start buying plastic.

Anyone who hoodwinks the hipsters into believing they are saving the earth – which has been perfectly capable of looking after itself for 4.5 billion years without their help - gets my stamp of approval. 

Bad 'Air Days

I don't blog about the weather very much; primarily because it is not interesting enough in Canberra.  Perhaps if we had a hurricane I could fill up a blog post.  To be honest, the weather is just a natural phenomenum created by God to give boring people something to talk about.  But something weatherish needs to be addressed.  It's all about my hair, really.

Bob Brown couldn't care less about my hair. I know he doesn't care because he's not ranting and raving in the Senate about the radical increases in wavy, unruly hair caused by dangerously high levels of humidity that threaten the very fabric of our society. Threaten our democratic values; our whole way of life.  The whole structure of our hairstyles. 

If left unchecked, this humidity has the power to make us look like dweebs for days on end.  Someone needs to do something!  Where the hell are the idealistic youth when you need them?  Oh, they're all on Facebook?  Maybe we'll need to get them to stop poking each other and start up a ban humidity page; that should do it.

We need to stop pouring money into this so-called man-made global warming (sorry, climate change), and start trying to eradicate the scourge of humidity or we are all doomed - DOOMED!  My stupid anti-humidity spray doesn't work when it has to deal with real humidity, of the type that Canberra is currently being exposed to.  I used to have useful anti-humidity hair goo, but the product was DISCONTINUED. 

I hate when you get to know a product, and you rely on it, and trust that it’ll always be there for you, and then the stupid company discontinues the product. And you are left bereft, with no hope to maintain humdity-free hair without resorting to a strange product whose effectiveness is a mystery to you.

I really can't tolerate any more bad hair days.  What we really need to do is find is patient zero in this unfolding crisis, so we can put them into a nuclear bunker type environment, or bus interchange locker if we're pushed for choice, so they stop spreading the scourge of humidity. 

And now - the wind!  Usually the wind stays in the naughty corner, that being South-East Australia; or Melbourne, more precisely.  But it's here.  The fucking wind.  I wish the weather would pull itself into line.  Sheesh.

Things that annoy the shit...

Who are these people who walk around on their lunch break playing with their mobile phones? If you can't go for a walk without getting bored then you have a PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEM. If you are trying to look busy and important and relevant - let me assure you that truly busy and important and relevant people have no time for mobile phones and will have their staff answer their phone messages and update all their social media accounts. Just look to the Queen for proof.

Plus everyone knows that public servants are anything but busy, important and relevant. The Obama Messiah apparently updates his own Twitter page, but that's just so he can pretend to be one of the people, while fully maintaining his distance from the people. I think we should have a National Walk like a Person Attached to their Mobile Phone Day, just so these douche bags can experience how truly annoying it is to encounter them in a shopping centre.