Current Affairs-A-Go-Go III: Ash clouds are teh geeeehbuzzz

Fuck we like a whinge don’t we. I’m no exception, in fact 90% of this blog has been filled with pointless ranting and raving that often culminates in a whole lot of fuck all. Like a New Zealand election debate, except I know how to stick to a topic...well...maybe not, but at least my analogies conjure up a chuckle or two from time to time...well I laugh at them, sometimes. But I digress. What the fuck is the big deal with this Chilean ash cloud. Planes can’t fly coz stuffs gets stucks in the engines. End of. No big deal. Fuck off and come back when planes go fly fly. K? K. Are we that fucking impatient that we’d like for Air New Zealand, Qantas and JetStar to risk our lives and those flying shotgun because we want to get to the Gold Coast and ride the Tower of Terror today instead of in a couples’ time? These are the same dropkicks that, if Qantas (I use Qantas, because out of the three, statistics show they are proven sky droppers, I’m sorry but its true) did decide to fly, and the aircraft plummeted into the ocean like Free Willy ¾ of the way through his escape, they’d want answers. No, they’d demand answers. They’d be crying on Sainsbury, with their kids in full sight about how “we just want answers. We want closure.” Don’t deny it, you would. So shut the fuck up, turn around, and go home until it’s safe to take off. If Benji and the lads can keep a smile and go undies shopping without bashing someone in front of McDonalds, you are all capable of finding suitable time wasting activities. If worst comes to worst, replace one disappointment with another and go watch the new Hangover flick.



Speaking of disappointing, the national media’s coverage of the latest earthquake in Christchurch has been nothing short of disgraceful. I mean, no faces covered in blood and skin falling off, no soot covered babies, no kids screaming in terror. Seriously, you guys have let us down. When it comes to creating nationwide fear, TVNZ, TV3, the Herald etc, usually have our number. But this time round, you’ve dropped the ball, big time. I mean...what, no “disaster jackets” for the pseudo-journalists you employ to make us scaredy? It’s almost as if nothing too strenuous has happened at all, and you’re clutching at straws with what you’ve got...oh...wait. Japan was demolished by a gaggle of Tsunamis (is it a gaggle, or a pod, or a swarm? I don’t know, but gaggle works if you ask me), and you expect people to be scared of the 6-point-something that struck Christchurch on Monday morning? That’s like comparing a tackle from Sonny Bill-Williams four years ago, to one in the modern day. Monday’s earthquake was but a geographical shiver in the age of super-disasters we’ve come to expect post-Boxing Day 2004. My heart and thoughts go out to those in Christchurch, you’ve been through hell in the last 9 months, but the media’s vulturous demeanour has been appalling and doesn’t do anyone any favours. Less pseudo-journalists presenting in front of cordoned off areas, and more stories from the Eastern Suburbs. K? K.



What else has been going on? We’ve covered whinge watch, apocalypse watch, oh I know, binge drinking. That’s always an issue that gets people fired up like a shot of tequila to start the night. Maybe a line of coke or a few ekkies? Not that I would know, I wasn’t a Kings bitch. Haha, ahhhh I’m just playing. In all honesty, the issue is not one which the school should have to comment, rather one which should be posed to the kid’s parents, and if you want to be all Armageddon-socialist-death panel, one which should be posed to society as a whole. Let’s be honest here. He drank more than one glass of bubbles at the party. He did. I don’t care what “facts” are put out, but I was his age once, consumed alcohol at his age once (might have been more, I can’t remember), and when I did, I went hard. It’s what kids do. So cut the bullshit, and admit, the kid was on the piss. Now, the issue of drug use has come up. Now I wasn’t there, so I can’t comment on this particular situation, however being a student at a highly regarded boys school in Auckland, I know that drug use definitely happens amongst pupils that attend them, and the products which are consumed are very easily obtainable. But again, this is not a question of the school, rather the parents and wider society. If we are not going to educate and encourage people to make informed decisions for themselves, we will not cut down the demand for people wanting to go out and get trollied, and we therefore won’t make any impact on the supply. It’s the basic fundamentals of economics. And, in all honesty, even if you switched things up and made an honest (an HONEST) attempt to improve young peoples’ decision making ability, chances are it’d fail. Why? Because kids will always be kids.



Oh, and to cap things off, the Mavs won the NBA, NSW equalled Origin 1-1, the All Whites were smoked, Benji carved the Warriors, Crusaders beat the Blues in the wet, and 8000 people showed up to watch chicks frolic around on a netball court. Peace.

Sega Master System > Current Affairs

It’s been a couple of weeks since I last updated Kicking in Heads, not because I’ve been overly busy at work or home, I just can’t be fucked. Sort of like the New Zealand Herald when it comes to writing for people with a reading age above 12, or our friends at the Bee Hive when it comes to actually solving issues. But alas, I’m back, but not in full force, rather I thought I’d give my top 10 Sega Master System games of all time, because I’m a) a nostalgia geek and b) can’t be arsed commenting on the earthquake, State of Oranges and Ma’a Nonu doing his ‘nana and wanting to play for another wugbee team. Enjoy bitches.

10. Mickey Mouse: Land of Illusion



9. Golden Axe Warrior



8. Bubble Bobble



7. Shinobi



6. Sonic The Hedgehog



5. Wonder Boy in Monster Land



4. Wonder Boy 3: The Dragon’s Trap



3. Ninja Gaiden



2. Ghouls and Ghosts



1. Alex Kidd in Miracle World



Honourable Mentions: Asterix, Donald Duck: Lucky Dime Caper, Altered Beast, Mortal Kombat, Alex Kidd in Shinobi World, Sonic The Hedgehog 2, R-Type, Mickey Mouse: Castle of Illusion

Stunts Are a Man's Best Friend: The high price of commercialism in everday life

Rapper extraordinaire Diamond D said it best in the song Stunts, Blunts and Hip Hop when he debunked the claim that a man’s best friend was not a dog, by arguing that “in the subway or riding in a Benz, whether four eyes or contact lens, sipping Moet or Heineken, some like dark, some like light skinned, some have one and some have ten, some still are and some have been, I'll play the rooster you play the hen, stunts are a man's best friend” where the word stunt refers to somebody of the female persuasion. Though not entirely flawless, I do recognise that Diamond’s argument does not cater for anything other than heterosexual relationships, for the most part I think he hits the nail on the head. It is not the material things which prove to be life’s marvels, rather the reciprocal relationships we as human beings form with others, be it of a romantic, sexual, professional or simple friendly nature, that make life what it is today.

Sure those new Jordans look pretty snazzy on the old feet, it’s nice to look good for that first job interview, a penis enlarger might be useful ahead of that first sexual experience with a new lover and we’d all for the opt part rather show up in a brand new Mercedes as opposed to that ’89 Civic sitting in the drive way, but they are all accessories to the fact. Comedian Chris Rock made an interesting observation, by saying that a man would fuck a woman in a cardboard box if he could. Colourful imagery and language aside, he does pose a fascinating paradigm – if it weren’t for mankind’s seemingly God-given necessity to impress, would we put so much weighting on the decision to purchase the material things in the world?



Here’s one. Why do people have iPods? Outside of a few people I know whereby music is not only a hobby and interest but is a career and lifestyle, the vast majority do not 10gb worth of music to load on to their iPod, let alone over 100. Furthermore, should someone have over 100gb worth of tracks and albums, the chances of them listening to every piece of recorded art on a consistent and constant basis is not only highly unlikely – it is damn near scientifically impossible. They are no more easily transportable than most other MP3 players; their aesthetic quality could be argued either way and they are by no means any cheaper from an economic standpoint. So why is it that everywhere you go, people are tapping on their little Apple produced technological propaganda machines...err...I mean iPods? They even have other MP3 player producers utilising their patented white earphones, to portray the image that they are of an equal standing, as if the colour of the earphones has a bearing on how one may perceive another’s MP3 player. You’ve got to wonder.




I hate to keep bringing up quotes from comedians, but they are an easy and entertaining way of illustrating what can be quite academically profound subjects, neck-deep in copious psychological, sociological and philosophical matter. Comedians not only cut to the chase more quickly, but they also have a knack of accompanying said chase with a humorous anecdote. In the case of consumerism, Dave Chappelle brings light to one of the shadier aspects of marketing, celebrity endorsements. In a stand up comedy special, Chappelle claimed “I don't even know why people listen to me. I'll say anything. I've done commercials for Coke and Pepsi. I don't give a fuck what comes out of my mouth. I say what it takes. Whatever it takes, that’s what I'm saying. If you wanna know the truth, can’t even taste the difference. Surprise! All I know is, Pepsi paid me most recently so... it tastes better.” It’s an image thing, we all know it, yet we all fall for it, time and time and time again.

When you attend funerals, and you’re sitting in your pew sobbing away into your handkerchief, what are the common topics people raise when sharing their memories of their loved one who has passed away. Do they talk about how sweet a person’s BMW was? Do they bring up the extensive collection of technological gadgets when discussing their memories? Is it the size of a person’s swimming pool which determines the impact they have had on other peoples’ lives, and society as a whole? No. It’s the type of person you have portrayed yourself to be through the interaction and socialisation with others which establishes your lasting impression. Sure that other stuff can assist you with this process, but it is in no way, shape or form the key determinant.

So why is it, that in 2011, it is the lyrics of a rapper’s song, which was released in the early 90s might I add, that make more sense than the messages conveyed by corporate powerhouses and big business. You know the world is in a tough spot when said lyrics mean very little to anyone other than a diehard underground Hip hop head, yet Apple, Nike and News Limited have far more say in what direction humanity heads in.

Still love my iPod though.

Current Affairs-A-Go-Go II: Fuckwits-A-Go-Go

Hey there dudes. Listen, I like a good internet craze as much as the next person, I really do. When cats were getting Rick Rolled more than cops impersonating rappers performing basic gymnastics manoeuvres, I was there. When ghost riding the whip had nothing to do with supernatural dominatrix, I was there. When 2 girls 1 cup was taking off, I was in the front row with a chocolate fudge ice cream and caramel milkshake. So yeah, I’m pretty open to people doing stupid shit in the name of getting some sort of “street cred” for it on the World Wide Web. But fuck planking. Let me rephrase that. Fuck planking pre-dude falling off his multiple stories and splattering himself on the pavement. What the fuck is the big deal about dudes lying down? Honestly, the last person who created a media storm from simply lying on their stomach was Jenna Jameson, but at least she had half a dozen penises in her face. I just don’t get it. Planking is like the Napoleon Dynamite of new media crazes. Sure it’s different, and people act like its groundbreaking because it’s a complete 180 from the stuff we’ve experienced before, but at the end of the day, it’s still just a bunch of uncreative motherfuckers doing fuck all.



I watched some dude hatchet of his penis and testicles on the BME Pain Olympics and you expect me to be shocked and amazed and struck down in absolute awe by some guy laying down on a speed bump? Well I’m sorry but unless a car driven at 100km/hour, by Monster Garage host Jesse James or former WWE Champion David Batista refuses to brake and hits the speed bump so hard it severs the guy’s body in two, sending both halves flying in opposite directions like a couple of human-boomerangs, I’m not with it. This is the Grand Theft Auto generation bitches, so you’d better show me some blood and guts, or I’m not giving a fuck, end of...so Imagine my surprise when I read yesterday morning that some dude in Australia falls to his death whilst trying to plank on his balcony rail...now THIS is a craze I’d rally behind. I can’t wait for the next instalment. Plank on a Red Barron-esque WWI fighter plane 1000 feat in the air and fall, plank on the edge of the Sky Tower’s bungee deck and fall, plank on the motorway in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a cardboard box so when a drunk Arab driving his Integra sees you in his lane he doesn’t even consider braking. Wow me guys, wow me.

Speaking of wowing me, the media’s reliance on Twitter posts from semi-famous people for current affairs angles and breaking news stories only further adds fuel to my argument that mainstream media has no conscience, has no ability, has no balls and has no class. It is the technological reincarnation of the fallen beast we call Beelzebub. In an age where competition for audience has never been hotter, costs for hardcopy media have never been higher and demands from corporate investors have never been harsher, you’d think our friends at the Herald would at least try and conjure up something half decent to lure back the educated readers (i.e. the few percent who probably have the ability to purchase papers, respond to high priced advertisements and generally reflect the pinnacle of whom every media outlet should aspire to reach). Furthermore, where New Zealand sport has never been so competitive with our Australian counterparts, you’d think this done-to-death-but-never-too-dead-to-be-rehashed angle would be perfect for catapulting fringe sports into the spotlight, drawing in audiences, old and new alike ,thus further exposing your product and thus your investors’ products to a greater market share, wouldn’t you?




So again, imagine my reaction when I was directed to an article in this morning’s (May 17 2011) Herald, regarding comments made about Northern Mystics shooter Catherine Latu on popular social networking platform, Facebook....Facebook. Yes, the same website where a guy offered to drink his own urine if his group got 10000 members. Yes, the same website where pages promoting David Bain’s innocence drew as many responses as those promoting his fashion sense. The same social networking platform which has such grass roots political movements as “Ugly Niggaz Need Love Too” and where more people have joined “Chuck Norris Facts” then vote in our general election. Hardly the source for stimulating intellectual debate, Facebook provided the Herald for a fantastic angle heading into the Mystics’ ANZ Championship final this weekend against the undefeated Queensland Firebirds after a poster suggested, and might I add correctly suggested, Catherine Latu was overweight. A fatty. That’s right, where other media outfits would be highlighting the tenacity and amazing resurgence of the Tactics, and the David vs. Goliath battle which is bound to ensue when they attempt to climb the unconquerable mountain that is this weekend’s netball grand final, your favourite leading newspaper, and mine (sarcasm alert, sarcasm alert) decides to go with the “fatty angle”. Look, I’m not saying Latu is not a gifted athlete. She might be an allegiance switching swine, but she’s still pretty handy under the hoop. She is however, visibly plump. Chubby. A biggun. Out of shape. For lack of a better word, a fatty. She is, you can’t deny that. That’s not an opinion, that’s a fact based conclusion drawn by one person (probably many more) whose opinion means diddly squat and should not overshadow the fringe sports grandest stage this coming weekend. So do us all a favour, New Zealand Herald, pick up your fucking balls and conjure up something half decent for once. Fuck, if you wanted to run with the fatty angle, produce a full page article profile Latu, her trials and tribulations, how she has come up, all the hard work she’s done to get where she is, and maybe, then maaaaaybe you can mention her weight as being an obstacle (I’m guessing you’d mention it around playing netball when she was younger, try and get that role model type of thing happening). I could write rings around your sad sack sports journalists, but that’s what happens when you have a brain.

Gee wiz, a thousand words already. I’ll be back later this week for more mindless rants. If anyone wants to suggest topics they’d like to see covered, feel free to send them to kickinginheads@gmail.com. I’m not saying I’ll pay attention to your requests, but hey, you never know. Leave your comments below. This Current Affairs A Go Go is fun stuff.

Current Affairs A Go Go

What is it with Kiwis electing these fucking muppets into Government? Furthermore, what is it with Kiwis’ obscure view of democracy, thinking that voting for your dictator on a three year basis is a measure of fairness and equality shows how incredibly small minded our voting population really is. This isn’t a slight against anyone in particular, but if people dislike John Key so much, or are anti-labour, why do you continue to play their little game of noughts and crosses come election time. You fucking idiots, grow some fucking balls and challenge authority for once. It might not appear relevant to you now, but if you think them taking your money and spending it on things that have very little to no relevance to social improvement without consulting you is democratic, when motherfuckers are struggling to purchase a fresh loaf of bread or new shoes for their kids’ feat, then you are clearly delusional. But hey, at least you’ve got the waka, right? Fuck outta here.



Then you’ve got ol’ Top Gun himself claiming a ride on a helicopter as a public expense...come the fuck on! Dude I understand you didn’t want people to think you were taking it as a bribe, great, fantastic, so pay the fee your fucking self! You’re a millionaire for fucksakes, if you can afford to forgo your wage as Prime Minister, you can afford to pay for a hoon on a chopper. End of! Now this whole BMW palaver made me giggle, considering the price of petrol, wouldn’t smaller, more economical vehicles be a smarter idea? Considering you cunts are all “we’ve got to save save save” at the mo with your cutting of Kiwi Saver and Working for Families, how about saving the Public a bit of loot at the fuel pump and trade the Beamer in for a Sirion or Getz. Seriously, it seems like such a no-brainer, mind you, considering who votes these idiots into parliament in the first place, we shouldn’t be surprised.



Yeah, bit of an agenda-free rant, so let’s go with Kyle Chapman next. You crack me up Chapster, seriously you really do. You claim to have this movement, yet judging by the level of professionalism of your marketing campaign, the Right Wing Resistance is barely a ripple. Bitch I have more friends on Facebook than your little club has members, and half of them are fake! Seriously, if you’re going to be a racist fuckwit, at least make a decent effort of it, instead of showing up on Sainsbury’s wankfest more unprepared than Norman Bates without an attic. Dude your organisation is so pathetic it makes the Tuhoe Rama look like the Weather Underground. Even right wingers were shaking their heads in disbelief last night as you bumbled your way through that interview: your organisation is so pathetic it makes traditional right wing politics seem logical – and that’s saying something! What’s your beef with Asian people anyway? Is it because you’re so fucking ugly not even a Thai ladyboy would suck you off? Talking about communism, as if our “democracy” is any measuring stick for perfection of government...get the fuck out of here. If anything, with the amount of persecution conducted by the so called “Communist” Chinese government (I say so called, because much like our so called democratic government, they not exactly “play by the rulebook” set out by their philosophical ideology) based on ethnic, spiritual and cultural diversity, you’d be all for getting your neighbourhood Beijing-ed out. Destroying New Zealand culture? As if Europeans haven’t done any of that themselves, and wears an ear ring probably made out of conflict mined gold. You sir, are a douchebag, not because you have an opinion, no, it’s because you have an ill-informed, ill-researched, ill-prepared opinion. Fuck, at least Hitler did his research. Cool scarf bro.



Where do I stand on the issue, in my opinion, there is no issue. He’s another fuckhead trying to tell us all what to do and think, I don’t know a) how they let him on TV and b) how they managed to shrink the picture down so it could fit on my widescreen. Seriously TVNZ, is the quest for ratings that bad that you let a guy whose group is hardly a group, more of a small gathering between friends, come on and embarrass himself...oh I get it...it was lambs to the slaughter sort of stuff wasn’t it...”People are starting to doubt Sainsbury as a legitimate threat to Politicians’ agendas come election debate time, let’s rebuild his reputation by feeding him a few easy beats.” Fuck, who’s next? Simon Barnett wanting to smack his kids up again? That guy who was going around knocking on whore customers’ car windows? Does Brian Tamaki need some publicity for his new line of cologne? Seriously, in wrestling they call it jobbing, and that takes place largely off air or in cut-segments, not main events. Up your fucking game TVNZ.


Ummm what else. My review of the ANZAC Test. Unfortunately I can’t remember any of it due to the beers, and have yet to see the replay, but I did have a guy with ginger hair and a rat’s tail sitting in front of me who wouldn’t shut his mouth the whole game. That and we lost Brad, who was sitting on the other side of the grandstand, contrary to where his ticket had suggested sitting.

Chur.

Flick Passes and Bicycle Kicks: Professional sport's struggle with corporate interest

In an era of monotonous tactics and manufactured playing styles, all done in the name of strategy, it is always a breath of fresh air when someone runs against the grain and plays their natural game. It is always a bonus when it pays off and said sportsman succeeds whilst doing so. There should be very little bewilderment as to the reasons why the likes of Sonny Bill Williams, Benji Marshall, Lionel Messi and Dwayne Wade are so damn popular in their respective sporting codes. All four refuse to conform to the “strategic play” offered up in a time where sporting analysis and game plan development seem to be as influential as the players themselves.

The fact is, with so much pressure on coaching staff, players, clubs, club executives, corporate sponsors and television moguls; the need to win matches often blinds the true reasons why people are interested in sport in the first place – entertainment. We watch to be amazed, we play to progress on the journey to success as a team, and we coach to lead others to reach their goals, dreams and aspirations. None of us, when we were five years old, gave a shit about merchandise deals. None of us when we were five years old gave a shit about television ratings. None of us when we were five years old gave a shit about the market value of sports people. It was the game that drew us in – end of.



Now I’m not bagging professionalism in sport – in fact I generally feel quite the opposite. It gives me great joy to see a guy come from nothing, play his heart out and eventually get that opportunity to step into the spotlight and try and pave his way towards a sporting career. It gives me greater success to see people carve out that career. Someone like Joe Galavao, in my mind, has done what so few else have failed to achieve – he’s had to switch rugby league clubs at least four times to ensure his dream is kept alive, he’s been dropped, injured and told he wasn’t needed, yet he still had the balls to stick it out and prove the critics wrong. Today, he’s starting for one of Sydney’s leading NRL clubs and probably has a decent looking bank account to boot. To me, Joe Galavao is a shining representation of what sport can provide for a young kid from the streets of South Auckland who dares to dream.



What I will say, is that professionalism and sport has created a number of external factors which appear to be having a direct impact on the intrinsic qualities which make sport such an entertaining commodity to market in the first place. What does the pressure to win mean for the likes of Dan Carter, heading into the biggest season of international rugby union he, and the All Blacks, have arguably ever faced. Will he chance his arm with five to go when the All Blacks are down by three? Or will they work the ball toward the middle of the pitch so he can have a crack at field goal? When people stream through those gates come World Cup time, you can bet your bottom dollar they aren’t doing it to watch field goal-a-thons, and when they run promotional packages on TV leading up to the Cup, you can bet your bottom’er dollar that they won’t be including much footage of penalty goals. Rugby fans know the story, they’ve seen it the last four Cups in a row, and nobody will be surprised as to what may happen in those final stages as the pressure is amplified.

It’s a double edged sword of sorts, as I’ve somewhat touched on above. Players, clubs, executives, coaches, TV moguls and corporate sponsors are all after the same thing – success. Players want to win, in order to reach their goals and pocket some cash in the process. Clubs want success so that their image will attract the fans through the gates and the expenditure which comes with it. Execs’ want success so that they can market their club as an avenue whereby corporate sponsors will want to spend some of their marketing budget, whilst the sponsors themselves want to align themselves with the most cutting edge popular culture products they can. TV moguls want people to tune in, the more people who do so, the more money they can demand from advertisers based on the heavily flawed Neilson ratings system. All of this can be achieved through spontaneity, creative flair and sporting brilliance – which it should, though often is compromised with the fear that throwing the dice may turn up a one instead of a six.



Sporting codes try and conjure up rules and methods to promote attacking and exciting play, but what this does is often compromise why that sport was so popular and exciting in the first place, case in point – rugby union. It’s going to happen to football too, despite traditionalists holding on for dear life, as soon as technology is utilised, the spiral will begin to spin downwards. It’s happened to rugby league, though thank fuck the game has managed to reinvent itself and absurd amount of times to cater for all the problems that come with rule changes and implementations. Look at the joke that is world cricket. What they really need to do is start at the grass roots and encourage sporting play whereby those with the big bucks have little to no say as to what happens on the field. Clubs and codes alike have to have the balls to stand up to big business and say by all means invest in us, we will deliver, but trust in our sport to do so. You don’t see many footy players questioning the ability of Nike to market their sporting apparel to women in their 50s, yet there is little doubt the MNC athletic wear company has huge influence in the way many clubs and teams operate, based on the dollar factor. Yet if they weren’t exciting and original in the first place, that money would never have been invested.



To put it simply – Imagine of Benji Marshall played like Peter Wallace. Imagine if Sonny Bill Williams played like Brendon Laney. Imagine if Lionel Messi played like Chris Killen. Imagine if Dwayne Wade played like Paul Henare. No one would give, for lack of a better term, a flying fuck, about any of these sports people. It is because they are so damn good the way they are that they are so successful in the first place. You want to know the reason why English football is in the gurgler on the international playing level? Look no further than corporate interest. You want to know why New Zealand cricketers have no timing, no footwork and no ability to read the play? Look no further than corporate interest. You want to know the reason why the New Zealand Herald provides very little analysis in their sporting coverage? Look no further than corporate interest.

Long live the flick pass, the banana kick, the alley oop and the bicycle kick.

Twisters, Terrorists and Team Sports

What a week for news fellow procrastinators, what a week indeed. We had the United States announce they had finally done the deed on Osama bin Laden, well at least that’s the story they’re feeding us. Which is all good, I’m so far beyond Cable news and government information having any effect over the way I perceive the world, that I am fairly non-chalent about the whole deal. They probably had him dead yonks ago but need this to build American spirit going into another decade of the war on oil. Even if he is dead, the price they would pay of having the whole world learn of his CIA ties would be enough to cause mass-revolt in the land of the thieves, home of the slaves (thanks Brother Ali, you’re tops). Any who, should provide some great material for comics...we all get sick of the racism, women, sex, when I was a kid formula. Which is why I love Bill Hicks. He calls people cunts on stage, it makes me giggle. Hehe.

Then to top that, the North Shore was rampaged by a tornado of Biblical proportions...well maybe not Biblical, I mean, it was hardly Oklahoma City sort of stuff but still caused a bit of chaos nonetheless. Smashed up a Pak-N-Save and the Albany Mega Centre, if anything it shows that God dislikes the impact that large retail franchises are having on local retail and for once in his life decided to do something about it with through the only way he knows how: through a dangerous rotating column of air. I kid, I kid – if anything history has shown God is more likely to use water to vent his wrath through floods, tsunamis, monsoons etcetera. This was clearly the work of some other force, something far more terrorizing, something far more savage, something far more tangible. I’m talking of course, about the Tasmanian Devil.

You may know him by his scientific name – Taz, and in the early 90s, he wreaked havoc all across the land done under where the sky remained yellow whether it rains or shines. Come to Tasmania, come to Tasmania. What we really should be addressing and what the media refuses to investigate with fear of facing corporate backlash from media Magneto, Time Warner, is how and why this animated beast decided to vent his frustration through the suburbs of Glenfield and Albany. We can only speculate – but my money’s on North Shore party goers, particularly the male consortium, all wearing matching collared shirts, usually white in colour. Either that or he caught something after bedding a frisky female Tasmanian devil after a night out in Taka, and the only way he knew how to deal with it involved spinning anti-clockwise at the speed of sound to the point where he couldn’t control his own momentum. But whether it was an act of deity or an act of anime, one thing is for sure, folks on the Shore will never feel the same way about part games involving placing body parts on coloured circles on a white mat again. See what I did there?

To cap it off, a hat trick of surprise in the news this week was topped off with perhaps the greatest public bombshell of all. Prepare yourself folks, because it doesn’t get much bigger than this. We all remember how we felt watching 9/11 unfold, the Japanese Tsunami and Joel Monaghan putting his in the jaw of a Labrador/retriever cross. Yes folks, this is bigger than high profile sportspeople being photographed partaking in drunken acts of bestiality. I opened up this morning’s Herald(Wednesday 4th May for those belated readers), which I’d like to point out we get free at work, if I wanted to pay money for garbage I would have bought Derty Sesh’s record. Sorry dude, no offence, I just think lyrically you lack substance. So yeah, I opened up the paper, only to find that your favourite fuckwit, and mine, has written something positive about Rugby League. That’s right folks; Chris “The I Have No Analytical Ability So Resort to Mindless Ranting” Rattue has given props to the Kiwis ahead of their showdown with the Kangaroos on the Gold Coast this forthcoming Friday evening.

It felt like the ground moved slightly as I gasped in absolute shock when reading Rattue’s sentiments. Now I know how the cast of Tremors must have felt, if only the special effects had been given more attention. Sure his analysis of the players in both teams was done with any real logic, but that should come of no surprise when reading the works of a writer who has the journalistic integrity of a test tube baby raised and reared in a secret room at Fox News headquarters in New York City. Now don’t jump to any conclusions her News Ltd., I love what O’Reilly’s doing with his comb over, YouTube still has some value despite the bullshit copyright laws, and you do own half of my favourite NRL team – but if a scientific study were carried out and the statement “there’s two sides to every story” was indeed proven true, your media outfit would be the statistical anomaly.

Now here were we – ah yes Chris Rattue. Now I’m not sure if it was the Herald’s anti-World Cup campaign, which for the record they stole from my friend Brad who was anti-World Cup without having a fact-based gripe long before any stupid fucking newspaper, but Rattue seems to have come to terms with that incident in the Fowldes Park car park I referred to in an earlier blog entry, and is making an attempt to move on. Good for you Chris, good for you. I true share your excitement for this Friday night’s ANZAC Test, the difference being however, that I am a TRUE FAN, and am willing to PAY MY OWN WAY to get there and see the game FIRST HAND and enjoy the sporting experience as a TRUE FAN would. That is not to say that I applaud your writing ability at all, and your anecdotes fall short of the mark. Sure, mine are a little out there, but at least they garner a chuckle from time to time and are able to get the reader to develop images within their heads. Yours do too, but the images involve you self and a cattle prod.

Rattue’s article shows that he is not fully over his rugby league nightmares however, as he stumbles back in to old habits, bagging a Warriors side who managed to defend well against a Penrith attack running with the win at their backs in the first half, whilst destroying them in the second. Rattue and I must have been watching different games; though I guess the game does look a little different watching Sky’s mediocre (at best) coverage from inside your propaganda-funded mansion instead of being at the game in person and actually experience what it is to see Rugby League live in the flesh. I felt that Penrith ran very well in that first half, with only drop ball and fantastic scrambling defence from the Warriors preventing them from scoring more than once. But that is just my opinion, and hey, what would I know, I’m not paid by a paper to write as much dribble as I can possibly conjure in order to feed the minds of idiots and garner a plethora of complaints from people who actually possess brain cells alike. But I digress.

A crazy week for news dudes, let’s hope the Kiwis get up and we round off an n incredibly shocking week with something a little more predictable: easy girls at WAXYS on the Coast. Chur.