Good news and bad news

There is good news and there is bad news.

The bad news is the planet is looking pretty fucked if we don't take urgent action need to combat the climate crisis.

The good news is total eco-destruction will take Nickelback down with the rest of us.

Although knowing the planet's luck, members of Nickelback will prove tougher to kill than cochroaches and be the only living things to survive - and lead singer Chad Kroeger will wander the barren lands for eternity moaning about how the eco-holocaust is "how you remind me of what I really am" backed by the dullest, most irritating band ever to be manufactured by the Masters of Evil that call themselves a music industry.

In good news, my home town of Sydney did something worthwhile for the first time since thousands protested some reactionary, old git in a dress who calls himself the Pope and egged Devil Child Justin Bieber during a recent concert.



In bad news, they largely missed. In even worse news, they didn't throw grenades or even a targetted cruise missile.

In good news for the world of culture, Carlo Sands has moved into film-making and directed and co-wrote a groundbreaking film exploring some of life's most important issues.



In bad news, proving the empty, hollow and utterly corrupted nature of film business, I have yet to be awarded a fucking Oscar for this work of genius.

Seriously, this film - with a co-writing with Ben from "that night at the Courthouse" - has not yet recieved a single fucking award of any kind despite being released to the entire world on YouTube last fucking Saturday!

Some have said, "Hey Carlo, show some patience. The next Academy Awards are not till next year, give it some time."

But if the esteemed Academy had any fucking self-respect they would recall that ridiculous Oscar for Best Picture awarded to that pointless flick about some stupid fucking inbred royal who couldn't even string a fucking sentence together but was king coz of his birth and the fact his FUCKING NAZI older brother walked away from the gig to go live in the Caribbean and support Hitler, and they would immediately hand that fucking prize to Carlo Sands.

It would only be just and right. But no.

This is just like the whole Nobel Prize for Literature debacle all over again, with those fucking Swedes refusing to give me the award, despite my remarkable contribution to the field of poetry.

So I figured I had no choice but to create a sequel.



Even worse, there is more bad news. This second work of genius has also failed to secure any of the notable film industry awards. Not an Oscar, a Golden Globe, a Palme d'Or or even so much as a mention by the Australian Film Critics Association.

And don't get me started on the total silence being mantained on either of my works by The Panafrican Film and Television Festival of Ouagadougo and the Kansas City Film Critics Circle.

Not just that, but like so many sequels it has struggled to match the impact of the original - having at time of writing been viewed only 56 times, compared to the 105 views garnered by the original.

It was so outrageous I had no choice by to create my own award. And so, I am please to annouce, here on this blog, that the inaugural winner of the Annual Carlo Sands Award for Finest Use of the Phrase Fuckity in a Short Animation goes to ... Carlo Sands!!! For A Second Conversation: A Short Film on Refugees and Gaffer Tape.

In other news May 5 marks the 30th anniversay of the death of Bobby Sands, Honourable Member of the British Parliament for Fermanagh and South Tyrone.

Sands died in the British-run concentration camp called Long Kesh after 66 days on hunger strike, followed by nine other men, because the Thatcher government refused as a matter of principle to "cave into the demands of terrorists" and let the prisoners wear their own clothes or organise their own fitness regiment.

And while the bad news was the IRA missed Thatcher that time in Brighton, the good news is that walking bag of rancid shit can't have long to go.

The world being what it is, you take what you can get.



""The kind people, have a wonderful dream: Margaret on the guillotine.... when will you DIE?! When will you die? when will you die? when will you die? when will you die? ... Please die" The best bit is the way the song ends abruptly to sound of a falling guillotine. The worst bit is it was written in 1988 and we are still waiting...