Heath Ledger 1979-2008

High Stakes Political Debate

Bill is getting into trouble for the attacks he has been making on Obama

it'll cave in on the clintons

i hope so i can't stand her

i wonder does she shave her balls ?

Good Question

maybe her and Bill sit in together on nights and do each other

now there is an image i didn't want in my head

Yes, I agree
But somehow it was around an open log fire in my mind

Jingles?

nat king cole on the gramaphone

i'll never be able to listen to nat again

neither will Hilary when Bill knicks her left testicle with the Mach III

Zeitgeist: Documentary

Brown paper packages tied up with strings, These are a few of my favorite things.

While lying awake last night I was trying to come up with some ideas for a project I am working on. But instead all that filled my mind was quotes from movies. I wrote them down so I wouldnt forget but copied and pasted from IMDB for full completeness. In no particular order here are five that made me chuckle to myself.

I would welcome comments and additions to this post.


1. Chet (Bill Paxton) from Weird Science - "your stewed buttwadd"

2. Judd Nelson (John Bender) in the Breakfast Club - "Hey, how come Andrew gets to get up? If he gets up, we'll all get up, it'll be anarchy"

3. Tom Hanks (Rik Gassko) in Bachelor Party - "It's time for spice, and the lucky spice is... paprika! "Oh thank you, thank you! You've made me the happiest spice in the world!"

4. Chevy Chase in Fletch - "it's me, Dr. Rosenpenis. I'm just here to check out Alan Stanwyk's file"
Dr. who?
"Dr. Rosenrosen, I'm here to get to the records room"
What was that name again?
"It's Dr. Rosen, I want to check the records room"

5. Tracey Walter (Miller) in Repoman - "John Wayne was a fag.
All: The hell he was.
"He was, too, you boys. I installed two-way mirrors in his pad in Brentwood, and he come to the door in a dress."

Early Riser

I took the magic mushrooms 8:30am and walked for what seemed like an age, "These dont work" I thought to myself as I ate another handful in dissapointment. A car passed me at speed with a German shephard leaning out the window his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. He barked but I heard no sound. A few moments later I heard the sound of the car whooshing past and a loud woof. I sat down to compose myself. I lit a cigarette. It tasted fowl but I smoked it till the end and threw it into the long grass in front of the bench where I was sitting. It smouldered and plumes of smoke rose up towards the sky. I sat looking from side to side hoping no one would notice the large fire I had started. I sat for many hours and the smoke continued to rise into the air making shapes and clouds above me. People passed me by but looked straight ahead as they moved through my man made mist. I glanced at my watch. It was 8:45am.

You get elves, everybody does !!

Drug Fuelled

Flight

Wrong Eyed Jesus

Possibly The Best Maddest Out-Of-Control Thing I Have Ever Seen. R.Kelly Has Fully Lost It

LIDL

This will be a short, badly written post with no thought put into it at all. However it must be said. I want everyone to shop in LIDL. Reasons why lidl is the glorious haven of joy bathed in a holy numbus of light from 10 to 1

10. Its very cheap

9. They have crazy polish cakes and biscuits.

8. The aisles are 8 or 9 feet wide as to avoid supermarket rage

7. The sell giant salamis some well over 3 foot long (some even bigger)

6. The sell original Barr's Irn Bru in 3 litre bottles

5. When you check out they throw all your food back in the trolley for you to pack later. (thus saving valuable seconds for the person behind you)

4. The have isles with crazy power tools, ladders, watches, sports equipment,
wratchet sets, toolboxes and every week is a different suprise.

3. They stock beer from all around the globe

2. I dont think they have closed since 1996

1. And the top reason for shopping in Lidl is that its packed to the rafters with incredibly hot eastern european ladies searching desperately for shelled prawns in the bottom of the freezer while sporting white trousers, a thong, a belly top and bleach blond hair.

Lidl is King.

Truffle Shuffle

Air Traffic

Red Tape

oh how I hate organisations. The tax office, the AA, the NCT'ers. The searing rage, the horrific anger. After my day in court cronicled in the Judicial Mockery I thought this nightmare would be over. But no. I ring the NCT crowd to try and get proof that I was compliant in feb of this year. Only to be rudely told that I had to fill out 3 forms in triplicate and send 24.50 euro to some busy cunt in Shannon. So I promptly hung up on the filthy unhelpful scumbag and redialled the same number. Requested the same exact documentation from some other unhelpful and even more unfriendly scumbag, and somehow managed to weave my way to a free cert and no forms in triplicate. Seems as if their traning leaves a bit to be desired. Then i rang the AA and asked for same sort of proof of insurance. They were nice and said yes, they would would send out the necessary to me. A week later it hadnt arrived so I rang back, nothing was sent, no record of the request. I had to stay on the phone for another 25 minutes so that "Rachel" could get her house in order. So it seems as if their training leaves a bit to be desired.

Red tape.

Our Antipodean friends

So as I trawled through the world of internet television, I was flicking through some video content, one of the pieces was about an Australian girl, who got into smoking marijuana and it became an addiction, she woke up, did a bong, got up had a coffee and smoked a blunt at the kitchen table, then met up with her hippie friends and drove to someone's house and smoked until she came home at midnight. She continued to do this until one day she heard a voice telling her to jump out the window, then another few voices telling her to do all sorts of crazy, religious and dangerous things. She had developed schizophrenia. The girl checked herself into a mental hospital that deals specially with cases involving severe aural and visual hallucinations brought on by psychotropic drugs and where the average stay is 3 weeks. She was there for 6 months. Possibly because she was crazier than a shithouse rat, and the drug was the trigger for her mental breakdown. Or it was because she simply did smoke too much. I watched in horror as her life fell apart and she couldn’t even walk down the street as the buildings closed in and her father (in her mind) worked for the CIA and was going to have her "taken care of". I left the programme as I had decided to continue to apply myself to the project I had been working on the previous day, the complete ransacking, tidying and clearing out of my "office". So as I drew the task to a close, I found a small bag of grass on the table under my keyboard. Instead of immediately thinking of my Australian hemp smoking pseudo artiste friend, I plunged headlong into construction of a powerful mind altering joint. Having 12 personalities was low on my list of importance as I scanned the desk for a lighter and lit the top of the perfectly made cone. I sat for a moment allowing the smoke to fill my lungs and my mind to slowly empty of coherent thought as my body slipped into the chair. Quiet filled the room and sun shone in the window. For a few seconds I had complete relaxation, but my moment of peace, serenity and utter abandon was shattered almost immediately with the sound of a posh English voice filling the room, "are you going to paass that or must i have to aaask". I must have frozen in my chair for what seemed like an age and then slowly swivelled to face the voice. A well dressed middle aged man with a thin ginger moustache and a wide brimmed hat sat cross-legged on the couch facing me, his left foot bobbing up and down and his highly polished shoe dangling from his toes. I gazed down at my hand. The joint had gone out. I lit it again and leaned forward towards the man and extended my fingers towards him. He plucked the joint from my hand. "Splendid" he cooed. There was a long pause. "Hallucination" I finally replied. He reclined in the seat and moved the hat back onto the crown of his head, the joint pointing upwards from his thin fingers. "Well dear boy, I wouldn’t normally be an advocate of it, but you should have listened to the bloody Australians"

Run, Run, Run for President

I was astounded today when I suddenly saw someone from die hard II is running for president of the US.

Sucker punch

I lied, obviously. There was nothing the next day, nothing the day after that, and the day after that . . . . . . why? well, I was waiting for that lightning bolt of inspiration - when a 100-Watt Halogen bulb goes off in my mind, burning the feck out of my synapses. The problem for me is: how can I make posts about my mundane life interesting, especially when I'm intimidated by the writings of familiars (did you check nemici's last post? - good shit. Keep 'em coming, blondie) And I came up with the solution - rage. It seems to be the driving force for so many blogs out there, so why can't it work for me? There seems to be plenty of it out there. Enough to go around.

And, boy, I've got lots of it polluting my veins, as an incident last week proved. A remarkable occurrence in my otherwise normal lower middle-class existence. I was sauntering through the centre of town on a day-off from work with my daughter in her buggy, feeling fatigued and a little pissed off. At a busy junction, I paused and waited for the green man. When he duly arrived, I began to cross the road as all traffic had paused, bar one cyclist. He kept on coming. Not, it must be noted, at high velocity (ok, he was crawling along), but he was still in motion. The wheel of his bike was about half a foot away from the buggy when I kicked out with my left foot, striking his wheel. But that wasn't the end of my act of aggression, oh no. It quickly escalated. I pushed him, then punched in the face, catching him on the jaw. He was obviously stunned - and angry. Very angry. He started to follow me on his bike, saying 'Come 'ere, I want to talk to you'. Of course, I didn't want to talk to him at this stage as I had now come to the realisation that this cat was a head (his threat to break a bottle over my head confirmed this). This was all taking place near lunchtime on a busy, busy thoroughfare with crowds jostling by us. But I wasn't aware of anyone else, of people gawking at us. As far as I could tell, no one was paying attention. Luckily for me, the cyclist gave up his chase (probably had to make a drop-off or something). I ducked into a place of sanctuary and carried on with my errands as if nothing had happened. But, for me, those few moments were extraordinary. Because, if truth be told, it wasn't a totally unpleasant experience. And that's what scares me more than anything else. Time for some anger management, methinks.

Idle oh so idle.

Aidan o Vitch in some sort of home made coup? He shall put us against the wall when he is king. Take the blog and his followers in his own direction and discredit us all. Or he may a just ruler, with understanding, hope, ideas, freedom and a steady hand - for I agree, we have all gone to our own depths (or heights) brought on by foreign travel, football, computer communication (not through blogs), moving house, impending childbirth, work (both home and job) play and social interaction and sometimes obligation.

I think apathy has been mentioned before in a previous post, its a disease while not contagious is quite dangerous to the thirty-something male, I find the idea of sleep far more appealing than most daily options put before me. And the prohibitive cost of "enjoyment" see's my future in other arena's, both spiritually and physically.

I myself have the "running bug" - Somewhere in the world where the water is free and the cost of daily life is insignificant to what could be in my bank account after 3 months of abstinance and lack of 30th birthday's. Let me walk forth through the mountains and streams, with the ability to capture the visual slung around my neck, let me write on paper alone what has happened that day, let me communicate with strangers though all mediums but common speech, let me sleep not in a white bed with sheets and not drive a silver shiny car, but do I make an enemy of my own future? or is this "their rules" and something which I can avoid till i lie on my death bed and think about all the wonderful things that I have seen and the people I have met.

Idle oh so idle. I feel like a monochrome insect or alternatively some sort of chameleon peering into a luscious garden with endless sources of sun, water and companions.

is this living ?

The Toiling of Idle Hands

Lazy, lazy bastards that we are there have been no posts for the last while, which is causing me distress. But we've been distracted and our thoughts have gone to our own little fiefdoms instead of the collective good. Also, I've been bereft of ideas. But that's all gonna change. I'm taking over. I've decided that there is gonna be a coup. I am blog leader and there will be order - and posts. Maybe even one a day, if you're lucky. It will begin tomorrow, the new era. So sleep tight and prepare. A new era is about to dawn.

Happy Birthday Cheeta !

Having spent many a rainy morning as a kid staring at the tube and laughing at Tarzan and Cheeta's antics, i take great comfort in the knowledge, that Cheeta, lives merrily in sunny cali-for-ny-A.
Happy Birthday Cheeta, who turned 75 last week.