Not the shitty ones that people buy and listen to because it is hip to have your music cost a fortune, weigh a ton, and require constant fiddling every twenty minutes. The ones where people carry forks across tightrope wires and bats go into space and woman have quantuplits. I mean Guinness World Records. They cost $$$money$$$. BIG money.
So it wont be happening. Blame the Irish.
Thousands took to the street in Wellington this Saturday in a terrifying show of force against probably The Economy but also maybe something else. Maybe they just wanted me to stop asking questions about their iPhone. Whatever their motives the thing they did was fairly entertaining, with the fascist recession-encouraging liquor-ban laxly enforced.
Rod in the frame.
These skeletons were not real. But it's pretty much impossible to guess how they did them.
This is what happens when your daughter does four years of modern dance (hons): her eyes start glowing like a fucking Jawa.
Um... That is an actual fish? HaHa.
The end.
In 1859 there was a solar storm so tough that telegraph wires burst into flames. The exact same thing is going to happen again in 2012, which, if you are a crazy person, will seem awfully convenient. The sun is constantly owning us - busting up our RAIDs, tiring out our sheep, and generally entropying our shit up.
And while the flaming telegraph thing is probably something to do with how stupidly long those wires were... you know... maths... scientists still recommend that you should start wrapping your ipod in pink bats sometime around 2011.
Do you need to wrap all your electronic devices? Well, only the ones you want to keep.
What does this have to do with copyright, the internet blackout, and Judith Tizzard? YOUR TORRENTS WILL ALL BE BURNT UP BY THE FUCKING SUN.
Then, thankfully, we can all return to happily paying out the ass for mechanical reproductions of mainstream dross produced by a crowd of ageing industry insiders. And Chloe Smith will be able to pay off her car or whatever. The End.
[Yeah I know stuff from our sun isn't so much 'intergalactic'. I'm really sorry.]
WARNING: These videos might shock you, and may even scare you! However this is not my reason for posting them. This video is about just what the title states. It's about Ghosts, Sprits, and Demons!
If you haven't been picked up and carried away by a giant bird then you should count yourself lucky. BECAUSE IT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME. The culprits tend to be either giant Eagles or THUNDERBIRDS, which are very real ginormous birds. Here is a book about them that you can buy. But that wont stop them. It would take 5 Barack Obamas to stop just a baby one, and even then just for a moment.
If you care at all about the safety of your family and pets then you should probably check out Biofort, the most credible authority on giant birds grabbing kids and owning them for ever. His blog is actually pretty good, and his theory on the Mattoon gasser makes a lot more sense than the psychological explanations (assuming that his facts are straight, which they almost certainly aren't).
PS: The crypto in Cryptozoology means definitely true. And this blog is now about cryptozoology.
If you like smoking in a tiny tiled garden with no plants, and crave all the crapness of being inside someone's half renovated crapshack and none of the stop-the-rain-hitting-you power of actually being indoors, then you you'd love smoking at Christchurch casino. But this isn't about smoking.
If you're anything like me then loosing 8 dollars puts you on tilt for well over 1000000 years. The obvious thing to do at such a point in your evening is to load up on subsidised beer and wander aimlessly through the slot machines searching for an unattended middle aged woman of medium attractiveness to sit next to. Dropping in 8 dollars (so you look like a business man), leaning back awkwardly, and eventually fighting down the staggers long enough to say 'lucky night tonight?' should generally lead to a scenario in which no one really gets off (makes you look like a business man) and a 25 year marriage is destroyed.
But shit don't play like that at Christchurch Casino. I guess 40 is about the age you realise you'd rather definitely loose 80 dollars than have a brief affair with an idiot... In the Christchurch Casino bathrooms.
Other things you should be warned of: a) People who describe poker hands that you weren't even in are fucking dicks b) They let this one down-syndrome guy play $10 a hand blackjack. c) You're not allowed to use an ipod. d) Coffee is free when you're playing stuff. e) The way asian people carry their gambling makes everyone else in the world look like absolute total bitches.
Memoryblog over.
Just a quick observation: somewhere, once, there were awesome things on the television. For instance why not soak up this six part symposium on rock versus metal? Or watch a genuine unexpected battle to the racist death in which that guy who does Fox News gets his nose broken. Or the guy that kicked that fight off pushing Al Sharpton out of his chair? Or finally, this calm reasoned policy debate where no one shouts at all. Note the awesome on-set smoking.
(My god that girl in the beret is an idiot. And a WWF ninja. And a Fox News correspondent. But she did found the Guardian Angels. I think. And then there's this. Actually maybe she's totally awesome.)
Anyway the reality/talk crap we have on now is what those reports of US military insects are, to waking up on the couch and finding that thousands of real insects are in your pants is, to the Morton Downey show. Marinade on that.
For the next few months my postings to this site will be reduced down and split between two basic streams: summaries of things that I have eaten, and pitches for new TV shows.
With that out of the way, it's straight down to business. Added a whole load of parmesan to some chilli-beans and mince. That was awesome. Been poaching a hell of a lot of eggs. Ignore all the hype regarding vinegar and swirling vortexes and any other such over-engineered non-sense: if you're poaching eggs then you're already living on the edge. In other words: fuck science.
Next I think there should be a reality show called Race To The Bottom where newly arrived immigrants to a western nation are separated out into cliques who then savagely ridicule the languages, dress, religious traditions and cooking of every other group. It will be regularly implied that someone amongst each group is carrying a highly infectious disease. God I'd be all over that show.
In much the same way that wheelchair people are the lazy people of disabled people, turtles are the cartoon animals of real animals. This picture shows what it would be like if they took control of our waterways, which we haven't really deserved for a long while now. I say let them. In fact if turtles want to take over any aspect of my life, they're more than welcome. Currently unassigned tasks include:
1. Napping
2. Weeping
3. Mulling
4. Keeping stuff in alphabetical order
5. If you had a turtle could it go in a chlorinated swimming pool? NOTAQUESTIONLOLWOAHRANDOMRANDOMRANDOM
I'm just going to stop this totally unwarranted assault on a proud New Zealand BEARDFACE principal right here. First off, I'm calling out P Wolf's self-hating crypto-racism as exactly that: John Rodgers spent upwards of nineeleven billion dollars on positive badges, and also fruit for lunches, and I think that if he wanted he should have been allowed (no, forced) to spend twice that amount every god damn day.
He also had the vision to know that Marlborough Boys' College might as well stop teaching math and english and book-shit like that and be turned into a restaurant training facility of some sort. The seven people to move from the school into work all did so by holding up a restaurant and using the stolen food to barter their way down to Christchurch and into some loosely organised team of mad-maxesque prostitutes.
But seriously imagine being put in charge of whatever parole-jumping sex offenders (with 220 'points' in "teachin+etc /22334") washed up on the field every few years. Just keeping them from beating the kids and doing one another's wives appeared to be a seven-times-full-time job. As for teaching... add in the fact that every single student was a functional illiterate meth baby from some failing farm in a nearby valley and well... badges are the least of your worries.
However he does seem more than a little confused about what video is:
Principal John Rodgers dismissed the video as nothing more than a "trivial piece of graffiti on a wall in town"
P.Wolf Power Poem
