Oh Dear

Hello, it's me again. I've got two spiders living in my bathroom, Len and Barry. They're those sort of house spiders with a tiny body relative to their spindly legs. They never seem to eat anything the weirdos, they just hang around in various corners. Every morning I say, "Mornin' lads". One time Barry lunged at my hand as I was trying to shoo him away from the sink, the cheeky fucker. Len is a bit more timid.

I swear the above is all true. Fucking edge of the seat stuff or what!

Alright you bastards let's 'av at it. My life changed forever in 2000. Before they stole the election, the neo-cons in US political circles were known as 'the Crazies'. The Project for a New American Century blah dee blah. (I can't provide links by the way because I tend to start talking backwards, frothing at the mouth, and brandishing crucifixes if I have to do anything other than type on a computer. Wanker. I like these parantheses. Gives me a chance to swear like a motherfucking cocksucker). Anyway, when I look back now for me that year was like waking up into a nightmare. I had always had a very broad understanding of the world's machinations but never, to my chagrin, really intellectually engaged myself with the meat of things.

I think in the run-up to that election I was so naive that I thought that Gore would surely win. Who in the name of Christ could not discern the patently obvious consequences of letting those psychotic cunts get their oar in? Even I was aware back then that the modern neo-con vision was birthed in the Reagan years, and I just vaguely assumed that their detractors would have their shit sorted with some backbone. When the Big Theft occured I was shocked and saddened. And then the towers imploded. And building seven. I had been distracted in the period before then by travelling to an exotic land to live for awhile. So I watched that horror live in a bar in the tropics. I think it was after about ten hours before the MSM was fingering Osama/Hussein. Anyone with any perception knew what was going to transpire, though not in detail. My last lights of hope dimmed with the 'flip-flopping' and swift-boating and outright theft of the next election.

I was still in the tropics when that farce went down. I can only describe it now as stepping into the abyss. I'm sure most of us felt it. I couldn't have described it to you at the time, but I knew this was something that would explicitly inform my life's path. I became a hermit and when I wasn't teaching I was reading. Sand-blasting away half a lifetime of omissions, misdirections and fucking pure lies. I'm properly pissed off about it by the way.


I'm cognizant of the fact that this is as shallow as the half inch of water in the dog bowl that unfortunate drunk Russian men sometimes fall into and drown, but it does my head in. I know asking for pertinent comments would be like praying every night for everybody to just sit down together and get right mashed - can you imagine Rice, Olmert, Karzai, whatever murderous tribal leader has the favour of all sorts of cunts in Iraq, Sarkozy, Brown - fuck it - let's get the Bilderburgers and the Trilateral Commission and the World Bank and the IMF - all together. They're in a huge plush room with a free bar. They've been chonking on a really nice Kush for an hour or two. The massive sound-system pumps out 'Are You Feeling Irie' by Steel Pulse. That's the answer right there my friend.


Reading back there a few lines, something which I generally try to avoid doing, I notice I may have given issue to an entirely new verb; 'to chonk' - to engage lustily in the hallowed tradition of getting right mashed with huge lungfuls of ganja, and then with lidded-eyes to bear witness on the wonder of the world. I tell you what, I really like Buzz Aldrin. I wish that cunt was my Dad.

I just checked around and to celebrate I'm going to chonk a nice big joint - we've got a new verb here people, stay frosty.

"Do not be a tourist in your own life, your own body, your own landscape, your own world. Remember, this is where you live. This is your life. Live it wisely. Live it in service to those you love, not in service to the machine. Let glittering trinkets go........can't remember the rest. You're guaranteed it was very wise though. I tell you what, I'm mashed.

Laters.

Breaking the Fucking Ice

Hello, I am Gaius. I am a foul-mouthed fucknut with a love for all animals and a couple of humans. Half the time, hang on - most of the time - I post here I will be fucking trashed on red wine and spliffs. I'm just making things clear, you understand. I've a great interest in international politics, history and current affairs (like the current cabals of cunts that run the UK's and USA's corporate robber baron fuckwit 'governments'). I am a borderline wackjob as a result of the foreign policy of the West since 2000, stimulated by that slimy little spiteful simian gwb getting 'elected'. Can't bring myself to capitalize his name anymore.
Anyway you cocksuckers you've probably gathered that they'll be a certain amount of bile here, but also I hope a few chuckles. For me, I mean. It's a great crack to get up in the morning, forget what you wrote on your blog because you were arseholed, then refresh the memory by reading whatever inane shite I managed to squintily type. Is 'squintily' even a word? It is now you cunts!
(I pause here because I am fucking sober, which as we all know is a total waste of time. Hang on a sec while I pour myself a glass of the creature) ..............Ah fuck! the sweetspot! There's a southeastern Australian company called Hardy's that knock out a lovely Shiraz by the way. I'm sure they'll appreciate a namecheck in this odious, amoral and obscene creation. I was going to add 'Not' at the end there but I hate cunts who do that. I'm quite capable of spotting irony without some fucktard shouting 'NOT!' in my face. Christ.
Just as a heads-up, here's what I'll be contemplating:

Both of my thumbs. Oh yes. Both of them.
The money trail and 9/11.
Prescott Bush (gwb's grandfather) and the Bush's funding and business dealings with the Nazi regime.
The massive fiction that is 'The War on Terror'. You fucking what?
The illegal Federal Reserve. The Bank of England.
The wholesale ownership by the CIA of the MSM in America.
The false flag operations of the UK/USA goverments, Operation Northwoods, Gulf of Tonkin, Pearl Harbour, 9/11.
My long, clean cock.
Our dehumanised and atomized lives in modern globalised times. Fucking shithouse, what?

Bear in mind that the above solemnities will be more often than not interspersed with completely random posts about life in general. I had a blog a long time ago and people seemed to find it funny. I just put that qualification in there to assure you that if you don't find this amusing than you are obviously some sort of humourless dullard who possesses a modicum of intellectual decorum. And therefore is in entirely the wrong place. Hey, Humourless. You can take that decorum and stick it up your arse, and you can fuck off while you're about it.
God, it's happening again. It's OK. You'll get used to it.

So scientists recently told us there's a vacuum 250,000 light years across in a part of the universe. 250,000 light years? Try and get your fucking head round that pal. Christ I need a spliff.

Laters.