Saturday, October 31, 2015

'Vampire, Hold Me Tight' THE MIGHTY STEF! WITH A SORTA HALLOWEEN-THEMED SONG!



'Each bite I take, it brings me closer to death...'

Irish bluesy rockers The Mighty Stef, the awesome band fronted by the awesome Stef Murphy, with their sorta Halloween-ish track "Vampire., Hold Me Tight". Which I post coz it is Halloween and it talks about vampires.

AND COZ THE MIGHTY STEF ARE AWESOME. Not well enough known outside of Ireland, Stef Murphy has already recorded with Irish music legends such as The Pogue's Shane MacGowan and the late, great Ronnie Drew who helped revolutionise traditional Irish music with The Dubliners.

The track is off their latest album, Year of the Horse, which is getting them some attention. The band are frequent tourers of Europe and the US, playing with the likes of Flogging Molly and plenty of others, and for GOD'S SAKE I WISH THE BASTARDS WOULD COME TO AUSTRALIA! 

Anyway... here is a great acoustic version of the track:



'...and in my blackened windows, I pray that the sun might shine...'


BONUS MIGHTY STEF SONG



'Well it;s getting to the stage that I always knew it would, that I can;t walk down my street.. I'm getting death threats  here, death threats there from everyone that I meet...'

It's Halloween. Here are 11 terrifying Tom Waits tracks

I know what you are thinking tonight. "What Tom Waits songs should I play on Halloween?"

Fair question. As everyone who knows Tom Waits music knows, there is Tom Waits for all occasions -- and especially Halloween.

I have chosen 11 tracks, not because there are just 11 (hell all of the the "Bastards" disc on his Orphans triple album qualifies, let alone all of Black Rider) but because there were the 11 I just happened to fucking choose. JUST FUCKING ENJOY THEM YOU GODDAMN BASTARDS!




* * *



'I swear to God I hear somebody moaning, low...'




When the moon is a cold chiseled dagger
Sharp enough to draw blood from a stone
He rides through your dreams on a coach
And horses and the fence posts
In the midnight look like bones



Now the raven's nest in the rotted roof
Of Chenoweth's old place
And no one's asking Cal
About that scar upon his face
'Cause there's nothin' strange
About an axe with bloodstains in the barn




That's when I heard my name in a scream
Coming from the woods, out there
I let my dog run off the chain
I locked my door real good with a chair




The barn leaned over
The vultures dried their wings
The moon climbed up an empty sky
The sun sank down behind the tree
On the hill
There's a killer and he's coming
Thru the rye
But maybe he's the Father
Of that lost little girl
It's hard to tell in this light




Everything has its price
Everything has its place
What's more romantic
then dying in the moonlight?



Under the Big Top tonight
Never before seen
And if you have a heart condition, please be warned



Okay, there's your story!
Night-night!




And as we discussed last semester, the Army Ants will leave nothing but your bones.



There was thunder
There was lightning
Then the stars went out
And the moon fell from the sky
It rained mackerel
It rained trout
And the great day of wrath has come
And here's mud in your big red eye
The poker's in the fire
And the locusts take the sky
And the earth died screaming...




The quill from a buzzard
The blood writes the word
I want to know am I the sky
Or a bird
'Cause hell is boiling over
And heaven is full
We're chained to the world
And we all gotta pull
And we're all gonna be
Just dirt in the ground


Yeah. I know. Don't thank me, just buy me a beer some time. You can eve n do so via the Pay Pal button on the right hand side of this blog.

Tuesday, October 06, 2015

Sorry America... you don't do political scandal properly

Did you hear the one about the Senate candidate from Florida who ritually slaughtered a goat and drank it's blood?

Two years ago, Augustus Sol Invictus walked from central Florida to the Mojave Desert and spent a week fasting and praying, at times thinking he wouldn't survive. In a pagan ritual to give thanks when he returned home, he killed a goat and drank its blood. 
Now that he's a candidate for U.S. Senate, the story is coming back to bite him. 
The chairman of the Libertarian Party of Florida has resigned to call attention to Invictus' candidacy in hopes that other party leaders will denounce him. Adrian Wyllie, who was the Libertarian candidate for governor last year, says Invictus wants to lead a civil war, is trying to recruit neo-Nazis to the party and brutally and sadistically dismembered a goat.

Yeah, I know. Whatever.

This is a year when it was revealed British Prime Minister David Cameron skull-fucked a dead pig to join a perverted secret society of the English elite at a prestigious university. The United States of America is going have to try just a little bit harder in "politicians doing disturbing things to animals" if it really wants the world's attention.
 
America, I know you're feeling insecure about China taking your whole thing of rising to become an economic powerhouse only suffer a dramatic crash, and Russia stealing your whole "bombing the Middle East and getting sucked into chaotic quagmire" stunt, but, frankly, you're starting to look desperate.

I mean, this guy isn't even elected to any office. He was only a candidate for a minor, fringe party unlikely to win. And, according to all press reports I have found, NO ONE EVEN ACCUSES HIM OF SEXUALLY ASSAULTING THE DEAD ANIMAL!

Now I admit, it would be a pretty big story if he had fucked a dead goat, even being merely a candidate forr a fringge party, because few stories are as attention grabbing as a good goat-fucking tale. But he just drank it blood and, that is a little distasteful but at the end of the day there is no getting away from the sheer bald fact that HE DIDN'T FUCK THE GOAT.

Get back to us, America, when this clown learns how to actually fuck a dead goat.

What's more, the ritual sacrifice and blood drinking was done for religious purposes, because the would-be senator is a pagan. Cameron, on the other hand, is, as are all decent Eton-educated British Prime Ministers, an Anglican.

And unless I've severely misread my Bible, there is nothing in Jesus's Sermon on the Mount or in the Ten Commandments as dictated by the Lord Himself to Moses about getting a dead pig's head and then inserting your penis so as to simulate oral sex while smashed out of your brain and surrounded by a gaggle of other drunken, cheering toffs dressed like penguins.

It does, for the record, state in Leviticus 11:7 that the pig is "unclean" and, by implication, should not be eaten. But it is silent on the matter of whether or not it displeases God to have a pig eat you.

Even the really disturbing things about Invictus -- the allegations he is actually a fascist who wants to start a civil war --   is nowhere near as disturbing as the really disturbing things about Cameron.

David Cameron, as British PM, actually heads an increasingly fascistic state looking more and more like piece of theatre from The George Orwell Appreciation Society's annual production all while overseeing a brutal class war that kills people, while also protecting and promoting the corporate interests that are pursuing activities climate scientists have been screaming at us for decades now to STOP FOR GOD'S SAKE despite the growing evidence that not stopping is severely screwing us potentially to the point of no return as even those same corporate interests themselves know full well.

And he fucked a dead pig. David Cameron wins.

'LOL! This brings back my uni days!'

Monday, September 28, 2015

Andrew Bolt On His 'Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name'

The world mocks.
Andrew Bolt has written a sustained defence of Tony Abbott that is being mocked by the small-minded and hateful twitterati as a "love letter", with all the teenage sniggering that suggests ("Andrew and Tony sitting in a tree K.I.S.S.I.N.G!") in ways that are arguably borderline homophobic. Which is not just petty but a little distasteful, as we all know they really don't like that kinda thing.

It is sad to see. And all because Andrew, unable to take all the hurtful things everyone has been saying about the great man any longer, pens an ode to Tony called "The Loss Of PM Abbott A Time Of Sorrow".

In it, he pours his heart out about the pain he feels over the loss of "one of the finest human beings to be Prime Minister". And just because he knighted Prince Philip, ate a raw onion and sought to dismantle the social safety net in the most extreme agenda of kicking the shit out of the poor seen since the days of the Hungry Mile in the Great Depression!

"You’ll laugh that I can write this massive praise of him when almost everyone else is horse-laughing," Andrew writes, in one of the rare examples of accuracy in his columns. For Andrew, poor Tony "seemed too moral for the job" -- a fact definitely missed by the rest of us.

Perhaps it was missed especially by the asylum seeker children Tony held in isolated prison camps subjected to systematic abuse. But really, I think we all should put our hands up and admit "moral" is not the first word that comes to mind when thinking of former PM Abbott.

The world does not understand.
Tony "led the world’s defiance of deadly Russian strongman Vladimir Putin", says Andrew, defying cynics who dare suggest the only thing his much-ridiculed threat to "shirtfront Putin" led the world into was hysterics.

And he was kind! "Ask my children how gentle he was when he called around." See! Tony loved children! Not the ones on Manus Island and Nauru obviously... but Aussie children, obviously!

Andrew has his criticisms, sure -- who wouldn't? Largely that Tony just refused to lower himself to the level of his dirty rotten opponents.

"I could have shaken the silly bugger, who played politics like it was cricket when everyone else was cage fighting," Andrew writes in possibly the only known example of anyone accusing Tony Abbott of not being enough of brawler.

Just too good for this world is our Andrew's Tony.

I guess the rest of us just don't know the real Tony, only having the well-documented public record of his constant brutal brawling in defence of what can only be called a hate-filled agenda to go by.

But Andrew enlightens us: "Those I love best are people of honour, warmth and kindness. Tony Abbott is one such man..."

In case you hadn't guessed, Andrew is really upset. "Sorry to sound so melodramatic," he writes. No need to apologise, mate! You just sound heartfelt and Christ knows there is too little of such passion in this cruel world!

Sure, much of the cruelty in the world comes from politicians like your beloved and their media defenders like yourself, who was found guilty of violating the Racial Discrimination Act for some of the most hate-filled commentary this hardly hate-free nation has seen ... but all you can do is speak from your broken little heart.

'Tell me more, Tony, you're so wise!.
Sadly, speaking from his heart has brought predictable ridicule down on Andrew's head -- and even utter bemusement and wondering if he has been living on Mars or perhaps taken magic mushrooms every day since Abbott became PM two years ago.

But I have it on good authority that Andrew will not take such mockery lying down and plans a moving speech at the start of this week's Bolt Report to answer his critics.

Below is a leaked copy of the planned speech. Sure it owes a little to Oscar Wilde's famous court room defence of "the love that dare not speak its name", but then few have been as terribly persecuted and misunderstood as Oscar Wilde than has Andrew Bolt -- who was also subjected to an unfair and cruel court case that found him guilty of race hate.

While Oscar was sentenced to two years hard labour, Andrew has been subjected to heading up a weekly TV show and writing a major column in the most widely read paper in the country.

Well... put aside all your prejudices about the man. I challenge anyone to read Andrew's speech with dry eyes.

* * *

What is the "Love that dare not speak its name"?

"The Love that dare not speak its name" in this century is such a great affection of a Murdoch columnist for a conservative politician as there was between Murdoch’s
Sun and Margaret Thatcher, such as Milton Friedman made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the writings of Goebbels and Rand.

It is that deep, spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of policy documents like those of the IPA and Sydney Institute, and those blog posts of mine, such as they are.

It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as the "Love that dare not speak its name," and on account of it I am placed where I am now, with even my usually loyal blog commentators wondering what the fuck I’ve been smoking.

It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is ideological, and it repeatedly exists between an hard right political thug and a writer found guilty of spreading race hate, when the propagandist has ideology, and the politician has all the fight, hate and promise of high office before him. 

That it should be so the world does not understand. The world mocks at it and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it, or at least, on national TV.




How can they look into my eyes
And still they don't believe me
How can they hear me say those words
And still they don't believe me
And if they don't believe me now
Will they ever believe me?
And if they don't believe me now
Will they ever believe me?

The boy with the thorn in his side
Behind the hatred there lies
A plundering desire for love

It's OK Andrew! Morrissey believes you! Morrissey understands!

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

A song for Tony, a song for Malcolm

So the glorious reign of Tony Abbott has come to a bloody end, knifed by his own party due to his unique capacity to combine hated anti-people policies with 12th century social views and a competency level that'd see him sacked as a trolley pusher at a supermarket, probably for winking lewdly at pensioners or throwing lumps of coal at the English backpackers trying to fleece people's cash for Greenpeace.

He's been replaced as our Overlord by Malcolm Turnbull, who is basically the same thing with better social skills, a nicer smile and less a shill for the corporate elite as an actual direct member of the ultra-rich. The richest man in Australian parliament, a multi-millionaire merchant banker and venture capitalist, Malcolm is evidence that anyone can make it in this country, even those who own it.

To mark this occasion, here is a song for Tony.



'You're just some racist who can't tie my laces, your point of view is medieval...'

Written by Lily Allen apparently about George Bush, it is word-for-word a perfect goodbye for the biggest, dumbest prick to ever call the Lodge home.


And here is one for Malcolm.



'Well did you hear, there’s a natural order
Those most deserving will end up with the most
That the cream cannot help but always rise up to the top
Well I say: Shit floats
If you thought things had changed
Friend you’d better think again
Bluntly put in the fewest of words...'


Written by Jarvis Cocker for New Labour when Blair was still PM (directly inspired by the bullshit of the "Make Poverty History" G8 summit in Britain in 2005 where world's leaders pretended to help Africa's poor while finding new ways to screw them backwards), change "world" for "Australia", it applies perfectly to the take over by the shiny, slick prick Turnbull.


BONUS SONG FOR TONY!



'Oh, oh, onion skin
Walking around with
Your heart caved in
When you start to roll
Your skin flies off
And the teardrops flow'


No explanation needed.


BONUS SONG FOR THE FUCKING LOT OF THEM!




'Those peaceful protests just were not cutting it...'

Yeah sure technically Trevor Moore's call to chop the heads off our rulers is about the United States, but no reason the blood can't flow right across our wide, brown land too. Some decent rivers of blood would probably help a few drought-afflicted farmers.

Monday, September 14, 2015

Did my Abbott Roast tip Turnbull over? You be the judge.

FACT 1: In a matter of minutes, the #libspill is scheduled to start. Malcolm Turnbull is challenging Tony Abbott for Liberal leader and the right to rule over this wide brown land.

FACT 2: On the opening night of Sydney Fringe Comedy, just a couple of Tuesdays ago on September 1, I took part in the Roast of Tony Abbott -- in which four of us  "roasted" Prime Minster Tony Abbott as represented by the Abbott Impersonator Jonas Holt in an event MC'd by Comedy on Edge's Mark Williamson.

Now full credit to the other three "roasters" -- Julia Wilson (representing 52% of the population), Peter Green (playing windfarmer Trevor Gumboot) and Kevin Rudd (doing a reasonable Nathan Lentern impersonation, or maybe vice versa,  not sure, I'd been on the Coopers Red) -- they were all great, *sure*.
But is it a coincidence that this has happened after my *savage* attacks, representing Green Left Weekly, on our prime minister? Well... I'd been meaning to get around to chucking my comments on the night up on this blog, and the dramatic events tonight have forced me to act decisively.

You be the judge. (Also, whatever happens tonight you can still see Tony "Jonas" Abbott and Kevin "Lentern" Rudd and myself and others at the Green Left comedy debate "Team Australia Should Be Disqualified" at Leichhardt Town Hall on October 17).

***

THE ROAST OF TONY ABBOTT

[Coming out waving Abbott out placard]

“What do we want, Abbott out! When do we want it, now! What do we want Abbott out, when do we want it… [gesturing to audience to finish "now":] Alright, calm down, this is a roast not a revolution! We can start that as soon as this done.

So you’ve probably guessed. I’m the Young Liberal.

Actually, I am from Green Left Weekly and as an environmental busybody, I was going to chain myself to the podium [holds up chain] and refuse to leave until Tony Abbott resigns, but under his new welfare laws, I couldn’t afford a padlock.

Tony Abbott. What can I say about our prime minister that won’t get my citizenship stripped?

Well… they say the left is too negative, always “no” to this, “don’t do” that, so I wanted to focus on the positives. Tony Abbott has been very good for those of us in the community who like getting angry. For us rage addicts, he’s been brilliant. Something new every day, it’s been great.

He’s been great for the left-wing protest sector in general, getting us out of the house and onto streets. For many of the older activists from the ‘60s, all these marches provide some much needed exercise.

Tony’s also been very good for the left’s self-esteem. Because SURE, we might be getting screwed 17 ways by over-entitled over privileged hypocrites… but then again… at least WE’VE never tried to knight a duke! At least WE know how to eat a FUCKING ONION! Next time try using a frying pan, Tony, you useless dingbat.

Tony has also done sterling work providing access to education to those who may otherwise be excluded… true, only for his daughter Frances, but it’s a step in the right direction.

However, I while we all appreciate your efforts, Tony, in securing Melbourne’s borders, I have one suggestion to improve your Border Force tactics. If you are really determined to catch visa violaters, just get Liverpool FC to play another game at the MCG… then round up the 90,000 English visa overstayers who turn up… In fact, just lock the gates and you’ve got yourself a brand new detention centre.

Tony has shown us why we should never trust “inspirational quotes”, you know the sort of Facebook memes with quotes saying “Be yourself. Be who you are, look inside your heart and be the best you you can be”, which is fine… but what if you’re Tony Abbott?

By all appearances you’re an out of touch, poor hating misogynist homophobe! Tony… If you’re being yourself, for god’s sake STOP! Ignore the facebook memes! DO  not be the youest you you can possibly be!

Tony has also taught us that we’ve been reading the Bible wrong all these years. In an appearance on Q&A in the days before it became the propaganda arm of ISIS, Tony was asked what Jesus would do about boat people and he said… “Jesus understood that there was a place for everyone … and that place was not necessarily Australia…”

Tony… are you SURE that’s what Jesus said? I know you’re the proud captain of Team Australia… but I’m not sure we actually MADE it into the Bible.

Or maybe there’s a previously unpublished Gospel According to Tony in which the Sermon on the Mount ends with Jesus saying “and the coal miners shall inherit the Earth… oh before you go, don’t forget… there’s a place for everyone and everyone in their place…but not Australia for the likes of you …they don’t like your kind”.

Presumably in the Gospel according to Tony, in the story of the Good Samaritan, rather than actually helping the injured Jew on the side of the road, the Samaritan just starts KICKING him while shouting “FUCK OFF BACK TO JERUSALEM, JERICHO FULL!”

What IS IT, Tony, with you and torturing innocent people including children? I mean GOD it’s just so… ARRGHH [clutches heart] oh jesus… my doctor warned me not to do this gig… god damn, I’ll stop now for the same of my health… enjoy the rest of Tony Abbott's overlordship.





There you have it. Abbott's has survived a lot, but that savaging was obviously too much many of his Liberal Party colleagues. Whatever happens in about ..ah... 25 minutes time... Come along on October 17... Support a paper that is not in Murdoch's pocket... you can get tickets here.














Wednesday, August 19, 2015

The Real James Hird Story -- My Version Of How Essendon's Supplements Scandal Played Out


'How the fuck did it all go so wrong?'
It seems to fans of AFL club Essendon like myself, the ongoing devastatingly destructive drama engulfing the godforsaken club is never gonna end.

Now Essendon coach James Hird has resigned after a turbulent coaching career marred by the ongoing "supplements scandal" over the "pharmacologically experimental" program of injections of various substances overseen by "cowboy" biochemist Stephen Dank that Essendon players were put through in 2012.

With WADA still appealing a ruling that had cleared Essendon players of wrongdoing earlier this year, and Essendon's on-field results making Tony Abbott's poll results look positive, it was probably inevitable Hird -- who has spent at least as much time in court as in the coaching box -- would have to go.

But so much of the real story of what the hell went on at the club has remained a mystery -- especially, from my point of view, how my name has been kept out of the media for so long?

I mean, what have all the investigative journalists been doing? How the hell did Caroline Wilson win that fucking Walkley?

Well.. I can exclusively reveal (take that Caro) that my name may not remain out of the story for much longer. A friendly "source" has leaked me the following transcript of a secret hidden camera recording that has emerged as part of WADA's evidence against the club.

Dating from January 2012, it throws light on the moment Hird began to serious consider the supplements program Dank had to offer, and, sure enough, it is the first decisive evidence that one "Carlo Sands" had a hand in the affair.

Now, 2011-12 was around the time of one of my infamous pear cider binges. So while I always figured I must have had something to do with this debacle, my memory was pretty vague.

Pear cider, as I know too well, is the Devil's own drink, and the only thing I can say in my defence for what the below transcript reveals is that Stephen Dank seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. But then your perceptions are pretty fucked when you're "on the pear".

I publish the transcript below so that all Essendon fans and fans of the game can know what truly happened -- and also because I like to highlight my key role in important events.

***

Many have wondered who introduced a character as dodgy as Stephen Dank to Essendon.


TRANSCRIPT

 [January 2012. James Hird in his office at Windy Hill, Carlo Sands bursts through the door with a dodgy looking bloke in a trench coat in tow.]

CARLO: Jimmy! [slaps Hird on the shoulder] Howyagoing? I got a great plan you're gonna wanna hear!

HIRD: [weary] What is it, Carlo? I am a bit busy right now, we're about to really get stuck into preseason...

CARLO: That's just it! I know just how to whip the boys into shape! And christ they need it, have you seen them? It's like they've consumed nothing but pints of Guinness over the entire off season!

HIRD: That's coz you put them on a Guinness-only diet! I can't believe you talked me in to appointing you Chief Off-Season Fitness and Well-Being Advisor, I never should have gone out with you for "just a couple" of pear ciders.

CARLO: Alright, let's not get into a slanging match over who did or did not get the squad totally smashed every day for four straight months, the point is I know how to turn this around, and quick! This is my mate Steve [points to dodgy trench coat bloke] Say hi to Jim.

DANK: [cackles loudly]

CARLO: Stevie's got this great program sure to bulk the players up. You know he worked with Cronulla in the NRL? Have you seen those lads? Christ, imagine Jobe bursting through a pack with a neck the size of Paul Gallen's!

HIRD: [sniffs] Have you been drinking?

CARLO: What? Maybe a couple, that's not the point! This is the answer to our problems! Basically, he's got these magic needles and you just inject them repeatedly into the boys and wow hey presto they're totally bulked up and shit!

HIRD: I don't know... it sounds a bit dodgy. Is it actually legal?

CARLO: Of course it is! Steve, tell Jim here about the legal situation.

DANK: [cackles loudly]

HIRD: Yeah... look Carlo, I appreciate you're trying to help, but...

CARLO: [leans over] He's also got some magic needle stuff that'll sort out your tan.

HIRD: What?

CARLO: Totally sort your tan. And totally natural looking, too.

HIRD: [trying to appear uninterested] This really all sounds very questionable...

CARLO: Oh come on James! There's no point hiding it! You're obsessed with your tan!

HIRD: I am not!

CARLO: Everyone talks about it! "There goes James Hird," they say, "a true champion of the modern game with five club best and fairests, two premierships and a Norm Smith and Brownlow medal under his belt... if only he didn't look so fucking pasty!"

HIRD: You swear this will work?

CARLO: Tell him Dank.

DANK: [cackles loudly.]

HIRD: Well...

CARLO: Then it's settled! Steve, bring your semi-trailer with the supplements around...we're in business!

DANK: [cackles loudly]



***

Yeah it is all coming back to me now reading that. Not one of my brightest ideas, I will concede. Sorry about that. Here is a song about the dangers of going out and drinking too much pear cider (may not mention pear cider specifically but all "pear heads" will get it).




'Light flashes and my mind goes numb. My head beats like a drum ...' Swedish bluesey pop singer Miss Li nails the essence of a sustained pear cider binge.

Saturday, August 08, 2015

Ian Healy's right -- the Australian men's cricket disaster is clearly the fault of the women

When the Australian men's cricket team slumped to a catastrophic defeat and loss of the Ashes in the fourth Test at Trent Bridge after being bowled out in the first innings for just 60 in the shortest innings in test cricket history, former Australian wicketkeeper-turned KFC spokesperson and occasional commentator on the cricketing matters Ian Healy knew exactly who to blame: the Devil Women!

Some fools, far less informed on the intricacies of the game than a veteran of 119 Tests like Healy, put Australia's batting collapse down to a combination of a brilliant fast bowling by Stuart Broad, who collected career-best figures of 8/15, and the terrible technique and shot selection displayed from Australia's incompetent battling line up.

But Healy knows better: it was actually the fault of the team's wives and girlfriends -- collectively known as the WAGs. The Guardian reports:

The former Australia wicketkeeper Ian Healy has blamed the side’s poor form in the Ashes series on the presence of the players’ wives and girlfriends on tour, describing them as a “distraction” ...
[Healy] believes the presence of family members has not helped Australia’s cause.
“All their partners are here and some of the most respected cricketers I played with hated that distraction. They weren’t allowed on tour until after the series had been won,” Healy said.
 
“Your mind needs to be completely focused on it. Cricket is a sport that requires complete concentration. You need everything going for you and I’m not sure they’re pushing for that hard enough ...

Really, these feminine demons should apologise to the whole of Australia! In fact, ALL women should apologise for what they have done!

It is not clear exactly how they did it -- beyond his reference to "a distraction", Healy himself is somewhat vague on the matter.

But it should surely be clear to all these women have no business polluting the men's world of professional sport with their babies and designer handbags. Presumably, they tired the poor men out with all their endless nagging, I mean, really, you know what they're like.

In Healy's day, wives and girlfriends knew their place -- far away from sporting grounds. And I suppose the feminists consider this progress! All out for 60!!! The Ashes lost!!! Michael Clarke's career probably finished!!! I just hope they're all happy!!!



AAARRRGHH!!!! THE DEVIL WOMEN!!!! CURSING THE CRICKET WITH THEIR FEMININE WOMEN WAYS!!!

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Legal Reforms And Thieving Playwrights: The Fifth And Final Carlo And Leslie ASIO File Dialogues

Here it is. The fifth and final transcripts of my ASIO files I have received. I live in hope perpetual hope that one day it will be revealed ASIO recorded something, anything I did that was not in a pub with fucking Leslie.

Unfortunately, the last installment features me in a pub with that goddamn cad. Oh well. I publish it here only due to my unfaltering commitment to truth and transperency. You should probably read the others or you'll be totally lost.

* * *


A pub.

[10:01AM, FRIDAY, [FILE REDACTED]. CARLO SANDS, WHO HAS BEEN WAITING OUTSIDE THE [REDACTED] HOTEL FOR SOME TIME, IS FINALLY ADMITTED WHEN IT OPENS. A COUPLE OF MINUTES LATER, LESIE [REDACTED] JOINS HIM AT A TABLE.]

CARLO: [gulping beer] Christ I needed this!

LESLIE: Tough day eh? Court case not going well?

CARLO: Did you know it is actually illegal to kill someone?

LESLIE: I had heard that.

CARLO: Even if the bastard totally had it coming?

LESLIE: The nanny state is out of control.

CARLO: This is what is wrong with this country! It’s all stick, no carrot! Rather than threatening people with punitive measures, they should reward us if we refrain from slaughtering some goddamn prick who was totally asking for a machete to the skull!

LESLIE: It is an interesting idea for legal reform.

CARLO: Like, well done! You went a whole week without slaughtering a single arsehole, here have some cake! It's your favourite, strawberry cheesecake with cream and chocolate sprinkles! Great effort!

LESLIE: You should probably write to the attorney-general, I suspect this idea has probably never occurred to him.

CARLO: I have to come up with ALL the goddamn ideas! And I never get any fucking credit! Just like that whole Bill Shakespeare debacle!

LESLIE: I do remember you being quite upset when he nicked your material.

CARLO: “To be, or not to be, THAT is the question!” My greatest line! No idea what the fuck it means, I was smashed when I gave that speech.

LESLIE: Yes, you jumped up on the pub table and started banging on about slings of fortune and dreams of mortal coils. The scrumpy round Stratford-Upon-Avon was pretty potent in those days.

CARLO: BUT HOW DID THAT HACK SHAKESPEARE FIND OUT ABOUT IT? That’s what I want to know, Richmond!

LESLIE: Well [coughs] you know what Cheapside was like back then. Always an interesting story to be found for the right coin. But you know, I think Bill’s best steal was that graveyard scene in Hamlet. You having to watch someone playing around with those skeletons in a graveyard and not being able accuse him of ripping it off without incriminating yourself! Genius!

CARLO: A talentless hack. Christ, once he read me something he actually wrote himself! Some drivel about a Scottish king and these three witches. I mean, imagine! As if anyone wants to go to the theatre to see a story about some fucking Scotsman! It’s not decent.

LESLIE: Well, quite.

CARLO: Whatever happened to that play? I assume it bombed and fell into obscurity?

LESLIE: Well asides from being one of the most performed plays ever and on all school curriculums as part of the central cannon, yeah it's been pretty much totally forgotten.

CARLO: Thank christ! I couldn’t stand it! Asides from the bits he got me to write for him involving all the murder and bloodshed. Tell me the bit where the Scottish bastard blows Duncan’s heads off with a hand-held rocket launcher and his brains splatter EVERYWHERE made it to the final cut?

LESLIE: Yeah, that's totally there. I mean a lot of that stuff is taken out or downplayed in the arty stagings coz they say they want to focus on the "human story" and "social relevance".

CARLO: THE HAND-HELD ROCKET LAUNCHER IS TOTALLY SOCIALLY RELEVANT! FUCKING HIPSTERS ARE DESTROYING CLASSIC WORKS OF ART!

LESLIE: I thought you said you hated it?

CARLO: NOT THE SCENES I WROTE! It was a horrifically dull piece of dross to which I added a few touches of genius! Like that bit where Lady Macbeth is sleepwalking and going on about all the blood on her hands she can't wash off ... and then she suddenly spins round, pulls out a machete from under her dress and starts slaughtering everyone while blood spurts wildly across the stage and she shouts: "SO IT'S ONLY FAIR THE REST OF YOU GETS SOME BLOOD ON YOU TOO!!!" I assume that scene is a particular focus of literature studies?

LESLIE: Well, as a particularly subtle piece of social satire, I fear its nuances are beyond the average English professor.

CARLO: Typical! It doesn't matter! I have more ideas where they came from! Like my brilliant new idea for a TV show! It’s about this cool guy who drinks all the time and is a total hero and has awesome cheekbones and he goes around killing motherfucking scum and everyone thinks he is GREAT and they make him their overlord and he is called “Carlo”! I think there’s a big market for it.

LESLIE: Yeah … it might work.

CARLO: Of course, it needs dramatic tension and conflict, so there’ll be a character called “Leslie” who hangs around being annoying and getting in the way.

LESLIE: I am assuming this all takes place in a pub?

CARLO: Of course! I can’t save the GODDAMN WORLD SOBER! Christ. Speaking of which...

LESLIE: Actually, it’s your shout.

CARLO: What? My shout??? Jesus christ .. Moralistic judges, thieving playwrights and now some prick expecting me to buy beer! FUCK THIS, it’s time for pear cider!

LESLIE: Well I suppose one couldn't hurt...

[THE REMAINDER OF THIS TRANSCRIPT APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN DELIBERTELY DESTROYED. INVESTIGATIONS REVEAL THE [REDACTED] HOTEL NO LONGER EXISTS AND ALL REFERENCES TO ITS FATE ARE HIGHLY CLASSIFIED.]




‘You'd better hope and pray that you make it safe...back to your own world!’ Shakespear’s Sister’s hit single ‘Stay’ is *yet another* example of artists ripping off Carlo Sands. 

The soundtrack to the five installments can be heard as a YouTube playlist because of course it can.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Whiskey, Duels To The Death, Abs And Bushranging: The Carlo And Leslie ASIO File Dialogues Pt 4

Well, I finally got my fourth installment of my ASIO files today. Once more it appears to me sitting in a pub with Leslie. This is getting ridiculous, I swear I’ve done other things in recent years.

Anyway, you probably need to read the first three installments coz otherwise you'll be totally lost as this series is a really complex, with many characters whose stories intertwine as the tale unfolds and features lots of plot twists and you wouldn't want to be lost because then what would you have to talk about tomorrow at work? HUH? Enjoy it because there is only one more to come.

***


A glass of whiskey. In a pub.


[10.47AM, THURSDAY [REDACTED], CARLO SANDS ARRIVES AT [REDACTED] HOTEL LOOKING MORE DISHEVELED THAN USUAL AFTER THE REVELRY OF PART THREE. LESLIE [REDACTED] JOINS HIM 15 MINUTES LATER.]

LESLIE: [chewing] Hmmm … You know, croissants are awesome. They're basically made of butter, but then you're meant to put more butter on them! And you can't put too much on! No matter how much you put on, you can keep adding more! They're like a bardis.

CARLO: That’s nice. I bought you a whiskey. Here, why don’t you drink this lovely glass of whiskey I got you?

LESLIE: You… bought me a drink?

CARLO: Yes! I have a stiff whiskey for you right here! Christ man, you don't drink it I will, poison or no... ah... or NO poison as there ISN'T any poison in it! HAHAHA! Just drink the fucking whiskey.

LESLIE: You’re still bitter about this whole “me winning the duel to the death” thing aren’t you?

CARLO: No! Of course not! Jesus! Hell, OK ... thank fuck I’ve accumulated a tolerance to all major poisons over the years … [skulls the whiskey]. That hit the spot.

LESLIE: Where did you even get the money for that whiskey?

CARLO: Oh, I ... borrowed it. By the way you might want to avoid the gents for a bit, it’s a little ... bloody in there.

LESLIE: You know, I’ve put up with a lot over many millennia, but trying to poison a friend is a bit rough.

CARLO: FRIEND? FRIEND??? YOU FUCKING BEAT ME IN A DUEL TO THE DEATH!

LESLIE: Well, OK, maybe more bound together by some cosmic force in punishment for some horrendous sin I committed at an unspecified time that I can’t recall. But, technically, I don’t see why killing someone means you can't be friends with them.

CARLO: That is just typical “deadist” bigotry that reveals your “living privilege”! You alive people have no idea what us dead have to put up with!

LESLIE: You know, I’ve actually had people question whether you are truly dead. It's quite insulting, because it is very poor form to claim victory in a duel on an uncertified or questionable outcome. If there’s one thing that we’ve always both agreed on, it’s the need to maintain the rules and dignity of the duel.

CARLO: And that all duels must be carried out without pants. Those are the two essentials.

LESLIE: Absolutely. What are you doing?

CARLO: What? Just admiring my abs.

LESLIE: You have abs?

CARLO: Of course I do! They’ve the hardness and consistency of a bag of marshmallows! I’ve spent a shitload of other people's money on beer to get them this way. This stomach is a work of art! I’m going into business to sell my secret to the perfect belly.

LESLIE: You’re advertising now? What, like before and after photos? Implausible testimonials and claims that “you too can achieve these amazing results” in x easy steps in just y weeks following Dr Sands' exclusive program?

Carlo: Sure. My rates are cheap. A cartoon of beer a day and another per night.

Leslie: You know, people are quite suspicious of these things that offer incredible results with no effort. No one could actually achieve your impressive results without putting in some serious hard work.

Carlo: I say that! I don't offer instant overnight success! I always tell people, you gotta work at it, you gotta constantly be drinking beer, eating shit food, sitting down seven-days-a-week, 52-weeks-a-year, ten-years-a-decade, ten-decades-a-century-or-until-the-liver-fails. Don't expect that you can do it a couple of days and the rest of the week be out there at the gym, eating fucking tofu and quaffing mineral water! I say “THIS IS SERIOUS! SO GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING MONEY!”

LESLIE: Hmmm. Well, speaking of daylight robbery, you know I was reading an article just the other day about old Moondyne Joe. You remember, the bushranger? I’m surprised nobody's made the connection between you and Moondyne. Like, they think he just ended up that insane on his own?

CARLO: Moondyne Joe? Western Australia's best known bushranger?

LESLIE: Yeah.

CARLO: Born poor in Cornwall and became a petty criminal and robber who was eventually transported to Australia in 1852? Took up bushranging and was repeatedly arrested, becoming famous for his many escapes from jail?

LESLIE: Yeah. Ol' Joey.

CARLO: Never heard of him. [hissing] FOR FUCK’S SAKE THIS IS A PUBLIC PLACE!

LESLIE: Oh, yeah sorry.

CARLO: No one MADE any connection because there is NO connection to be made! Anyway, I was on a surfing holiday in Hawaii at the time. [hissing] FUCK man… SHUT UP!

LESLIE: Yes… [starts humming a random tune] Hey, have you ever been singing to yourself, and then you get so irritated you call the cops on you to shut yourself up?

CARLO: You’re clearly not drunk enough. Otherwise you'd be pushing yourself shouting “come on you bastard, you know the words COME ON! [singing badly]‘I MET MY LOVE BY THE GASWORKS WALL, DREAMED A DREAM BY THE OLD...’” then you’d pass out. That’s how I do it. Here, I'll show you...

[REST OF FILE REDACTED.]




‘I’ll chop you down, like an old dead tree...’ Fucking poetry! Stay tuned for the final, fifth installment!

So no one wants Reclaim Australia to play their songs. Except for Sydney City Trash...

The list of artists telling the Great Aussie Swastiska-Wearing Patriots of Reclaim Australia to stop playing their music at Reclaim events grows longer by the day.

John "Hey True Blue" Williamson is the latest, joining the likes of Jimmy Barnes, John Farnham, Men at Work, Goanna, Redgum and Midnight Oil.

Or, put another way, almost every artist played by those seeking to "reclaim" this wide, brown land from the halal-certified Sharia Law tyranny we all suffer under. But not all artists, though, are so cowardly in the face of halal Sharia terror. Country star Lee Kernaghan and country punk band Sydney City Trash have bucked the trend.

Kernaghan put out a statement in response to his song "Spirit of the Anzacs" being played that simply asked that "anyone" who uses the song do so with "respect". Sydney City Trash, on the other hand, were moved by the total failure of Reclaim movement to play a single one of their tracks to issue an open letter on their Facebook page on the matter -- complete with a song suggestion:

It has come to our attention that our music has NOT been played at recent 'Reclaim Australia' rallies across the country. We find this disappointing as we specifically wrote a song that we think aligns perfectly with the values of Reclaim. 
Seeing as you can no longer play Barnsey, Midnight Oil, Willow or Shane Howard feel free to take and use this little ditty. Our gift to you. You can play it right after Lee Kernaghan......

And here, loyal readers, is the song in question:



There's this nation they call Down Under
But to me it's top of the worldAnd I love this country so goddamn muchI'd marry it if it were a girlAnd when you talk bad about this nation I loveWell it cuts me deep insideCoz I seriously love, I mean actually loveWell I'm so filly with Aussie pride...

Play the song for the rest of the inspiring lyrics and I challenge you not to be deeply moved by their love for this great country of ours.

Monday, July 27, 2015

A far-right nut tried taking a gun to a Reclaim rally, but don't panic it wasn't a fake plastic sword or anything

When some far-right nutters from the United Patriots Front traveled from Sydney to Melbourne to join the Reclaim Australia march, police -- tipped off by boasts on social media -- searched their bus and confiscated a gun.

But don't panic, it wasn't anything really dangerous like that fake plastic sword seized last September from the home of Mustafa Dirani in the nation's largest ever coordinated anti-terror raids involving 800 armed cops in scenes splashed across the front pages around the country.

I mean, a gun can do a bit of damage, sure, but a plastic sword that "would be found in almost every Shiite household as a decorative item" that "wouldn't be able to cut a cucumber" could still very easily end up as a prop in an amateur theatrical production of Aladdin and frankly the world has seen too many horrors already. We can't be enabling amateur musical theatre in our suburbs.



The sword being removed. Couldn't cut a cucumber, but might be a prop in amateur musical theatre and that's a risk we can't take.


Still... a fucking gun that some fascist was going to take a protest targetting Muslim people and "left-wing extremists" that was likely to feature confrontations with anti-racist protesters... (and a knife was confiscated, and by all reports, it wasn't even plastic, which is just fucking cheating!)

It is pretty serious, which is why the cops confiscated the gun. I mean, sure they didn't even arrest anyone or even stop them going to their protests/Nuremburg Rally reenactments to "reclaim" Australia from the horrific Sharia tyranny we live under.

And sure they didn't carry out raids on the scale that targetted the 21-year-old Dirani on the supposed pretext of an ISIS-inspired plot to "behead a random stranger" (with a plastic sword), despite the fact that Dirani is a fucking Shia Muslim, whom ISIS are killing as infidels thus making as likely to carry out a terror attack coz ISIS told him to as an African American is to burn down a Black Church on KKK instructions.

But still. At least they confiscated the gun. And when you see images like this one below of a far right protester in Melbourne "high-fiving" a cop at the Reclaim rally, after the cops pepper-sprayed the anti-racists... just be fucking thankful at least they confiscated the fucking gun.



Friday, July 24, 2015

On The Sorry State Of Irish Folk Music In Ancient Greece: The Carlo And Leslie ASIO File Part 3

OK, this is the third installment of my ASIO files, and I have to admit, but now I was starting to see a certain trend. Apparently the only thing ASIO care about is recording me in some pub with the cad Leslie. FINE! We can only hope the remaining two installments provide us with something of actual interest.

You can read the fucking thing below, though I should warn you should probably read the previous two installments as this is a pretty linear, plot-driven series and you might otherwise get lost.

* * *


A pub.

[10:10AM. WEDNESDAY, [DATE REDACTED]. CARLO SANDS MEETS LESLIE [REDACTED] AT THE [REDACTED] HOTEL.]

CARLO: Ah, I gotta hand it to you. You finally came through with a beer! And it tastes pretty sweet!

LESLIE: Yeah, I found it in the hand of this passed-out guy in the beer garden. It was pretty much full too, just had to wipe a bit of his vomit away and it was more or less fine.

CARLO: Well... cheers!

[Two glasses are clinked]

CARLO: I still haven’t forgiven you though.

LESLIE: [sipping beer] Hmmm?

CARLO: You know why.

LESLIE: What?

CARLO: YOU FUCKING BEAT ME IN A DUEL TO THE DEATH! I AM DEAD NOW, YOU BASTARD!

LESLIE: Are you still going on about that? You challenged me to a duel to the death over some wild claim I had “insulted your honour” by failing to buy you another beer and then you stood up a declared to all and sundry in the pub that you “demanded satisfaction”.

CARLO: My reputation as a gentleman was at stake!

LESLIE: And so I chose aging as my weapon. State of your liver’s so bad, you can barely drink a ginger beer without falling over.

CARLO: And it was with such innocence I took that Facebook quiz “When will you die”! I still remember the result... October 21, 2008. It was only when you OH-SO-HELPFULLY pointed out it was already 2009 that the truth struck me... I was dead!

LESLIE: How do you think I felt? Being the slayer of Carlo Sands after all those millennia, when so many great assassins, angry mobs and enraged bartenders had failed before me! Every rogue cowboy in the known universe now wants a crack at me. I had three assassination attempts on the walk here just this morning! Luckily, those Tai Kwon Do lessons have proven handy.

CARLO: YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU BEAT ME IN A DUEL TO THE DEATH! Jesus. Now my beer's empty. Just coz I’m dead doesn’t mean I am NOT THIRSTY, YOU BASTARD!

LESLIE: I’m right ahead of you. I saved you this one from the table next to the passed out guy. This bloke had actually thrown up right into the schooner, but I brought a sift from home. I think I got all the chunks out.

CARLO: Ah! You’re alright! You might be a murdering bastard, but this beer is going down gre... [chokes loudly] AARGH!

LESLIE: Sorry, guess I missed a bit.

CARLO: [coughs it out] Argh! I hate pineapple!

LESLIE: I know you are upset at being dead...

CARLO: The hangovers are even worse!

LESLIE: … but just think of what you achieved with your life! The discovery of fermented fruit, the invention of human sacrifice, the sack of Jerusalem ...

CARLO: Twice!

LESLIE: Three times. That was you with the Assyrians, wasn’t it? 8th century BC?

CARLO: Oh yeah, I had forgotten that one. I was pretty drunk.

LESLIE: And of course the Black Death!

CARLO: Ha! Yeah, that was definitely my most successful practical joke.

LESLIE: A third of Europe dead! Your proudest moment.

CARLO: I suppose I did achieve a few things. But I never got to conquer Persia!

LESLIE: Not the Alexander the Great thing again...

CARLO: The bastard left without me!

LESLIE: He couldn’t get you out the pub when it was time to go!

CARLO: It was happy hour! They had $5 pints of Guinness! And the band was playing a killer version of “Dirty Old Town”. [sings badly] “I’ll chop you down, like an old dead tree...” Fucking poetry.

LESLIE: Yes. You made that point on the night. Loudly. While jumping on the table, waving your machete around and demanding everyone else join in.

CARLO: But their version of The Dubliners’ “Rare Auld Times” was shit! I had to keep shouting at them to get them to play that bittersweet, melancholic lament to the gentrification of Dublin in the 20th Century... but they just pleaded that the first known settlement of any kind in general Dublin area was still 500 years away... I had to put my machete right into their faces and scream “PLAY IT YOU PRICKS!”

LESLIE: Brave effort, though.

CARLO: It was so hard to find a decent Irish pub in those days. I tried to raise the matter with Alexander, but all that Macedonian bastard could think about was how much of the Known World he'd occupied!

LESLIE: He got his come-uppence, though. You never told me how you ended up in Babylon that night, or where you found that strychnine to poison his wine.

CARLO: Well I guess you’re right. I have achieved a lot! Come on, you murderous bastard, another drink to celebrate!

LESLIE: Well... I suppose one more couldn’t hurt.

[FROM THIS POINT ON, NO FURTHER CLEAR DIALOGUE CAN BE DISCERNED FROM THE RECORDINGS. AT ONE POINT, IT APPEARS THEY COULD BE ATTEMPTING TO SING THE IRISH FOLK BALLAD “THE FIELDS OF ATHENRYE”, OR POSSIBLY SOMEONE IS ASSAULTING A POSSUM, IT IS NOT CLEAR.]




‘I remember Dublin City, in the rare old times...’ The Dubliners’ provide a clear example of how you are MEANT to perform Pete St. John’s classic tale of the gentrification of Dublin. Stay tuned for more!

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

On Redheads, Cycling And The Welsh: The Carlo And Leslie ASIO File Part 2


Yes it is what you have ALL been waiting for, without consciously knowing you were -- I have received the SECOND installment of my ASIO files, which I dutifully publish below, believing, as I do, in the principle of full transparency.

You should read the FIRST post on this, otherwise you simply won't have any clue what is going on. It follows directly on and it seems to me these security pricks have some sort of fetish with recording me in a pub with a bastard called "Leslie". Christ only knows why.

* * *


A pub.

[10.12AM, TUESDAY [DATE REDACTED] CARLO SANDS ARRIVES AGAIN AT THE [REDACTED] HOTEL JUST AFTER OPENING AND SITS WITH LESLIE [REDACTED] AND STARTS DRINKING.]

CARLO: [sighs] Jesus.

LESLIE: The legal system bringing you down?

CARLO: Did you know they make you wear pants in a court room?

LESLIE: So I hear.

CARLO: It’s fucking fascism.

LESLIE: Your court case. It’s not the “killing redheads” thing again is it?

CARLO: What? Oh, no.

LESLIE: Coz I was gonna say, they can’t usually survive in the environs north of Melbourne. And those redheads that do make it to adulthood have to stay indoors and move about through sewers.

CARLO: Sure that’s not vampires? Kinda similar, but vampires have a greater sense of morality.

LESLIE: No, I’m pretty sure I’m right. My own brother is beset with the redhead malady so I’ve always had to stay sharp and keep on top of their behaviours.

CARLO: YOU’RE RELATED TO ONE???

LESLIE: Yeah. So there's the whole thing of I carry the abomination in my blood too, but refuse to succumb to it, like Blade.

CARLO: That’s some heavy shit, man. It’s become such a controversial topic. Like, did you know some people actually consider it racist to kill a red-head?

LESLIE: That’s political correctness gone mad.

CARLO: I won't even kill them these days. It’s an OH&S thing. You get all that infected blood on you and it takes forever to scrub off. It’s not like NORMAL blood, it CLINGS to the skin, like napalm only worse-smelling. I tell local councils they gotta do their own cleansing operations.

LESLIE: Fair enough too. Shit, what’s the time? I gotta make sure I get home in time to watch the Tour de France.

CARLO: The Tour de WHAT???

LESLIE: The cycling.

[pause]

CARLO: I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO NEVER MENTION THAT TWO-WHEELED DEVIL SPORT TO ME EVER AGAIN!

LESLIE: Yeah but Carlo, that’s only coz you STILL can’t do it.

CARLO: I TOOK ALL THE SAME DRUGS LANCE ARMSTRONG TOOK! ALL THAT HAPPENED WAS I FELL OFF MY BIKE!

LESLIE: You shouldn’t have mixed it with all that red wine.

CARLO: That is where I usually go wrong with drugs. The point is WHERE IS MY BEER? YESTERDAY, RICHMOND, YOU PROMISED ME A FUCKING BEER!

LESLIE: Yeah, but ... the thing is Carlo...

CARLO: WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?

LESLIE: I’m broke. I can’t afford beer. I just said that to shut you up. And I really got to get home for the cycling...

CARLO: FUCK! THIS IS JUST LIKE THE SIEGE OF TROY ALL OVER AGAIN!!!

LESLIE: No, come on … the siege of Troy is still a very sensitive issue for me.

CARLO: Oh “come on Carlo, go invade Troy!” you said. “There is this girl held captive,” you said. “Her name is Helen and she is the most beautiful woman ever,” you said. “I swear she is the one! Please, please Carlo, go and liberate her and I’ll BUY YOU A BEER!” you said. DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO BUILD THAT GIANT FUCKING WOODEN HORSE!

LESLIE: Yeah well, I couldn’t have known she’d go running back to Menelaus. Never seemed a happy marriage. Still, it really didn’t help that the few times I got Helen alone, you invariably burst in shouting “where is my fucking beer!”

CARLO: That’s a great question! WHERE IS MY FUCKING BEER, RICHMOND?!

LESLIE: Look, I was depressed by the Helen thing! It was a hard time for me. I had to dedicate myself to wearing black and listening to The Smiths. And black was not in fashion back then and The Smiths weren’t invented until 1983, so it was a really hard few thousand years.

CARLO: Stop avoiding the question: WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BEER?

LESLIE: I can’t afford it.

CARLO: YOU LIED TO ME! AGAIN! YOU PROMISED ME BEER!

LESLIE: How about tomorrow?

CARLO: Tomorrow?

LESLIE: Yeah, meet me here tomorrow and I’ll definitely buy you a beer.

CARLO: What about a pear cider?

LESLIE: Oh no. I don’t want to end up in Wales again.

CARLO: What do you mean?

LESLIE: You know you can’t handle pear cider. Every time you drink it, we end up in Wales.

CARLO: What have you got against the Welsh?

LESLIE: Asides from the constant singing, nothing, except for the fact that when we finally sober up from one of your pear cider binges, we’re always in some field in north Wales surrounded by sheep carcases and  a furious mob of Welsh people wielding pitchforks enraged by some insulting rendition you did of their national anthem in the local pub.

CARLO: Haha, yeah. I do like to do that. But you’ll definitely buy me a beer tomorrow?

LESLIE: Absolutely. Now, I’m missing the cycling. You coming?

CARLO: No, I think I’ll stay here, wait till that bastard at the next table turns his back, then nick his beer.

[LESLIE [REDACTED] LEAVES THE [REDACTED]. CARLO SANDS PROCEEDS TO SPEND REST OF THE DAY STEALING OTHER PEOPLE’S BEER WHEN THEY ARE NOT LOOKING AND EVENTUALLY GETS THROWN OUT FOR A DRUNKEN RENDITION OF “DIRTY OLD TOWN”.]



'I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour...' He's singin' Leslie's song. STAY TUNED FOR MORE!

The Carlo and Leslie Dialogues: ASIO Transcripts Part 1

Now, everyone knows I'm a pretty important guy. Few things happen in the world of politics, high finance or pub trivia without Carlo Sands being consulted. So it struck me there could be no doubt those Pricks Who Govern Us would be monitoring my every move.

I've been thinking for some time of finally writing my much-anticipated memoirs, but then I figured… that’s a lot of work, why not just publish what these pricks have already recorded? And so I sent away for my ASIO file and received the answer: “TOP SECRET HIGHLY CLASSIFIED UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES TO BE RELEASED.”

This was perhaps to be expected, so I sent a text to an “associate” of mine who happens to hold a certain high up position within the Australian intelligence establishment in order to remind him of certain… favours I happen to render our American allies in 1971 in Laos during the Indochina war that should they… emerge... could prove a little unfortunate for more than one high profile figures in several countries.

The first installment of my files arrived in my inbox within the hour.

I poured over it and was a little stunned to discover it appears to consist of transcribed recordings of me in a pub… with the cad Leslie! Now the pub is unsurprising, but Leslie of all people? After what that cad did?

I guess they record everything and so this rare and bizarre occurrence got picked up with all the important things I do, which future files will no doubt reveal.

I was a bit disappointed, but as the alternative was to sit down and write my own fucking story myself, I have decided to publish the transcripts. This is the first of five installments. STAY TUNED FOR MORE! OR DON'T! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK I AM TOO IMPORTANT TO CARE!

* * *



A pub.

[10:05AM, MONDAY [DATE REDACTED], TARGET CARLO SANDS MEETS LESLIE [REDACTED] AT THE [REDACTED] HOTEL AT OPENING TIME. THEY START DRINKING BEER.]

CARLO: You know what?

LESLIE: What?

CARLO: I like beer.

LESLIE: I know you like beer. You are a big fan of beer.

CARLO: But, still, there's times when I think about ALL the beer I’ve drunk over ALL those years...

LESLIE: All throughout history.

CARLO: Over many millennia… and I think that if I had all that money I spent on all that beer … I mean just imagine how much beer I could buy!

LESLIE: Quite a lot of beer, definitely. Even taking into account inflation and rises in alcohol taxes, that is still quite a large amount of beer you’d have the purchasing power to access.

CARLO: A fucking shitload.

LESLIE: It's the sort of figure that puts the Greek debt crisis into context, for sure.

CARLO: I’d be set for years!

LESLIE: You could finally stop harassing other people to buy you beer all the time.

CARLO: Oh no! Just coz I’d be rich would be no reason to give up my favourite pastime!

LESLIE: It has caused you problems before, though. Remember when you kept badgering Genghis Khan to buy you a beer? I don’t mind running, but an enraged Mongol horde gets up quite a head of speed.

CARLO: That man had no vision! I tried to tell him! All of this conquering and subjugating and establishing the largest contiguous land empire in human history stretching right across Asia into Eastern Europe, that’s one thing! But you want to think big! “Genghis, mate,” I said, “you wanna go invade and subjugate New Zealand! In about 800 years, they’ll make the Lord of the Rings trilogy and the Hobbit films there and just THINK how rich we’ll be with the royalties!”

LESLIE: I know. He just kept insisting “what’s New Zealand?” He never understood your strategic genius.

CARLO: AND THE BASTARD NEVER BOUGHT ME A FUCKING BEER!

LESLIE: In his defence, he did repeatedly say “what the fuck is a pint of Guinness”?

CARLO: FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! A MAN CAN NOT LIVE ON FERMENTED HORSE’S MILK ALONE! God, now it has all come flooding back. Jesus. My machete-wielding arm is twitching. LET’S INVADE CENTRAL ASIA!

LESLIE: No, come on. Last time you tried that, you inspired a brand new geopolitical “syndrome” and a line in The Princess Bride. Have another beer. You like beer.

CARLO: Yeah. Beer is nice.

LESLIE: Yeah. Have another.

CARLO: Yeah. So... can you buy me a beer?

LESLIE: [sigh] Why don’t you just do what you normally do? Wait till the guy at the next table turns his back, then nick his beer?

CARLO: It’s such a hassle! The bastards complain and then there’s an argument and I have to get my machete out and then there’s a body to dispose of and it’s no longer in just ONE easy-to-move part, and there’s blood everywhere and I hate to piss off bartenders so JUST BUY ME A BEER, YOU BASTARD!

LESLIE: See, this is exactly how the 100 Years War started. You just can’t let the matter of a beer go.

CARLO: King Edward III NICKED MY FUCKING VB! Also, that throne was mine! But mostly it was that party where that Plantagenet prick drank my beer!

LESLIE: See, I knew it had to be something like that, coz you always hated the French. If you fought for them for 116 years, it had to have been over something important. It does explain why they nearly lost, though.

CARLO: What do you mean?

LESLIE: No one has ever doubted your commitment to a battle, but an inflexible strategic approach to all military skirmishes that involves running screaming “I’LL KILL YOU FROG BASTARDS” right at enemy lines was probably likely to be even less successful than usual when your main allies were an admittedly unsteady and changing alliance drawn from the French nobility.

CARLO: Yeah, but I always screamed it in English. That way none of those frog bastards in the English court had a clue what I said. [pause] Hey!

LESLIE: What?

CARLO: We don’t we go invade France! Seriously, it’s been DECADES since anyone’s had a decent crack! Sometimes I swear this world’s lost its sense of adventure.

LESLIE: No, not France again. Please. Look, I’ll buy you a beer, just promise we’ll stay out of France?

CARLO: Well, ok, if you’ll buy me a … [Phone rings] Hang on. [Answers] Hello? WHAT THE FUCK? GO SCREW YOURSELF YOU USELESS ARSEHOLE! YOU MAGGOT-RIDDEN PILE OF FERMENTED RHINO SHIT! I’LL CHOP YOU INTO A THOUSAND PIECES AND FEED YOU TO YOUR OWN PRIZED COLLECTION OF RARE, ENDANGERED SPOTTED BUG-EYED PIRANHAS! What? Yep. Yeah, sure thing. No worries. Cool. I’ll see you there.

LESLIE: Who’s that?

CARLO: My lawyer. Reminding me I am due in court. Shit, I better go … I have to find some rich prick and steal his suit.

[REST OF FILE REDACTED]




'I like drinking on a Monday morning...' STAY TUNED FOR MORE!

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

DEATH! A poem. About the Greek crisis.

Hello loyal reader (the singular is not accidental)!!! Not many people know this, but I am famous for my poetry. You might say it is a contradiction in terms to be famous for something not many people know about but THAT JUST SHOWS HOW LITTLE YOU KNOW!!! Despite the blatant conspiracy against me by the Nobel Prize for Literature, and by the entire poetry establishment (I am hated by Big Poetry) and by all other mediums, outlets and well anything at all asides from this blog... my Fame nonetheless grows.

Now in my spare time I like to torture myself by editing Green Left Weekly's cultural dissent section and looking at poetry submissions (I refuse to abuse my position by running my own works, despite many requests and even furious demands I do so, for I have principles).

And while I will not deny there is a lot of really high quality political poetry out there, and some of it by people who can even rhyme, it got me thinking that I don't publish enough of MY OWN poetry which is, of course, SO MUCH BETTER!!! HERE IS A GEM I JUST FINISHED JUST NOW AFTER SLAVING FOR 1.09 MINUTES!!


DEATH! A poem. About the Greek crisis.

I once wrote a poem just for fun
Then sat back and looked at the horror I had done
Did the world really need to hear me rhyme?
No, but they'll get over it, I suppose, in time.
DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH
DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH
DEATH DEATH DEATH!

DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH
DEATH DEATH DEATHITY DEATH DEATH
DEATH DEATH DEATH 
I hate everything but especially those German pricks screwing Greece.


There it is. A work of genius! And YES! I KNOW the last line doesn't rhyme! I KNEW some ignorant pricks would pick up on that, not realising that POEMS DON'T ALWAYS HAVE TO RHYME, YEAH? I *know* every other line rhymed in a highly unique AABBCCCCCC format, but it is called "experimenting with the form" and anyway it is an *important social issue* I raised in that last line, which is all the more highlighted by the way that JARS with the rest of the otherwise totally orthodox poetic form. GREECE IS IMPORTANT!

***

Do you want to know MORE about Greece and its current crisis than my poem can teach you? fear not! Tom Waits is on the job! His song "rtaling At the Same time" from his 2011 album Bad As Me, is ALL ABOUT THE CURRENT CRISIS IN GREECE! Yeah some might say it is a song inspired by the effects of the Great Recession in the United States to which Waits has added, as his wont, big dashes of heartache over a relationship ending when the narrator's lover walks out on them  (obviously a reference to Yanis Varoufarkis's resignation as finance minister) BUT REALLY IT IS GREECE! EVERY LINE!!!

Yeah, because "All the news is bad, is there any other kind?" and "All the money is gone" and "Someone makes money when there’s blood in the street" and  "Well we bailed out all the millionaires, they’ve got the fruit, we've got the rind" and MOST OF ALL ( as anyone who has tried to follow the media or just he fucking far left on social media can attest) "Everybody's talking at the same time".

Sing it, Tom.



Talking At The Same Time

Get a job, save your money, listen to Jane
Everybody knows umbrellas will cost more in the rain
All the news is bad
Is there any other kind?
Everybody’s talking at the same time 
Well it’s hard times for some
For others it’s sweet
Someone makes money when there’s blood in the street
Don’t take any lip
Stay in line
Everybody’s talking at the same time 
Well the dog is in the kitchen
And the war drags on
The trees wait by the freeway
All the moneys all gone
Well she told me she would leave me
I ignored all the signs
And now everybody’s talking at the same time
Everybody’s talking at the same time 
Ain’t no one coming to pull you from the mud
You gotta build your nest high enough to ride out the flood
I know you’re leaving and there’s no more next time
Everybody’s talking at the same time 
A tiny boy sat and he played in the sand
He made a sword from a stick
And a gun from his hand
Well we bailed out all the millionaires
They’ve got the fruit
We’ve got the rind
And everybody’s talking at the same time
Everybody’s talking at the same time

Saturday, July 04, 2015

The Daily Carlo: July 4! Yay America! SONGS!!!

Today's Daily Carlo is published on July 4, which was the day in 1776 that the US Declaration of Independence was issued. This was, of course, a great idea at the time so long as you weren't indigenous or Black. Or poor. Or a woman. But all great things must start somewhere.

(Actually it unleashed, as many great historians have detailed, a new struggle between the poor and dispossessed and the new, growing oligarchic elite. And the history of the United States -- from the earliest days till now, is riven with the struggle of the poor, exploited, dispossessed, enslaved, repressed, overworked, underpaid, declared "illegal" downtrodden majority -- and there are great moments, from the radical democracy at the heights of the Reconstruction, drowned in racist terror, to the huge militant strike wave in the 1930s that did much more to lift working people out of misery than any policy of Roosevelt, through to a mass movement that ended a major war and christ knows what else. But that is another story. The true history of the United States is the history of its victims.)

Yah America!



'All we want to do is take these chains off of us...'

Yar well here is a random collection of songs about the US in some form that I happen to like. I tried not to think very hard about it, otherwise this could never be done.




'To hell with your double standards...'




'First kick I took was when I hit the ground...'




'This country is over, they say...'




'And all the news is bad, is there any other kind...' 




'Everybody knows its a hard time, living with the hate and greed...'


TOO DEPRESSING? WELL HAVE SOME STRUGGLE!!! First, one of the big industrial battles from the 30s... a bitter, violent mining strike in 1931 in Harlem County.



'Poor folk aint got a chance unless they organise...'


And now the battles of today! In a  hip hop reworking of the classic...



'I'm for a world without borders and a better tomorrow...'


There you go. Now fuck off and leave me alone and/or put your own suggestions in the comments, I don't care, this beer won't drink itself.

Sunday, June 28, 2015

The Daily Carlo: More good news! Andrew Bolt is back on form railing at marriage equality!!!

Here at the Daily Carlo, it is almost as if we (there is no shame in a royal "we" when you are as successful and talented a blogger as we are) have been bitten by some sort of "optimist bug" because, rarely, this is the second blog post in a row to be about good news!

There seems a rare outbreak of good news, whether it is finding the existence of some new songs by Texas-based country singer Hayes Carll songs on YouTube or discovering that Murdoch journalist, culture warrior and convicted racist Andrew Bolt is back on form railing wildly about the "tyranny" of the June 26 United States Supreme Court decision that ruled in favour of same-sex marriages!

This is reassuring, as I was getting worried about the poor bastard. After the historic referendum in the Irish republic in May that voted in favour of marriage equality, a clearly demoralised Bolt wrote: "The battle for same-sex marriage has been won ...  In 2004, Newspoll showed only one-third of Australians backed same-sex marriage. In 2014, it was twice as many and I suspect support has grown since."

Describing himself as a "sceptic" about allowing full equality between heterosexual and same-sex marriages -- still explicitly banned in this country thanks to a 2004 law passed under John Howard -- Bolt said that "the Yes vote in Catholic Ireland last week broke the back of any real resistance here, too".

But the arch-conservative has got his mojo back, which is just as well, as it is Written that one of the Final Signs Of The Coming Of The Apocalypse is when "a Tabloid Hack shalt cease opposing Equality, Progress and Things That Make People Happy Without Having Any Impact On Others" and so I'd begun stocking up on canned food.




He's back on form!


Now, all is as it should be. In the gloriously titled "A tyranny of judges forces same-sex marriage on US voters", Bolt hits out strongly at those five oppressive judges who voted to "invent the right to same-sex marriage" despite the fact this runs "in direct opposition to the expressed views of voters in several states".

Of course, if we wanted to be picky, we could point out that it would seem Bolt is being a little selective in his defence of popular opinion, seeing as US polls have consistently shown majority support for marriage equality since 2010.

But in his deeply reassuring rant, Bolt approves of the "magnificent dissenting judgement" of Justice Samuel Alito, who noted: "At present, no one—including social scientists, philosophers, and historians—can predict with any certainty what the long-term ramifications of widespread acceptance of same-sex marriage will be."

And indeed the ramifications could be anything. Society could collapse. The Earth could open up and swallow us whole. The Giant Evil Squid Monster From The Deepest Ocean, renown for its homophobic views, could be reawoken after a 10,000-year sleep and devour us all.

Or, and this is just one of the many options, gay people could, if they so choose, have their relationships officially recognised as marriages on the same equal footing as straight marriages. It is really very hard to tell.


SEE THE TYRANNY!!!


THE OPPRESSION IS HORRIFIC!!!


IS THIS WHAT THE BOSTON TEA PARTY SACRIFICED ALL THAT TEA FOR???



ARRRRRRGHHH!!!!



OH FOR GOD'S SAKE DON'T PROVOKE THE GIANT EVIL KILLER SQUID MONSTER FROM THE DEEPEST OCEAN, YOU KNOW IT HATES THIS KINDA THING!!!



Oh, and here you go, here is a totally unrelated song by Gossip.




'Standing in the way of control, we live our lives...'