The Good And Bad Of 2016

In fact, 2016 was a REALLY CRAPPY YEAR! I'll briefly recap on some of the crappy things that happened.
  Lots of famous people died. I actually felt quite sad about some of them passing. The most sobering (yep, strange is it may seem, I'm sober at the moment) thing about many of those who died is that they were around my age. I go to bed each night in trepidation.
  The fiasco in Syria continues, largely due to interference from Russia and the USA, who are using the tragedy as a show of power. We all know that's never going to stop anytime soon.
  Terrorism is spreading in Europe. They brought that on themselves with their open border policies. A quick note to Angela Merkel. Try and survive that one, baby!
  In Australia, Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull is becoming more unpopular weekly. He has no control over the senate and is hanging on by his fingernails in a vain bid to be Australia's first President. A quick note to Tony Abbott, who Turnbull cowardly knifed in the back to get his job. In 2017, you need to show Turnbull that paybacks are a bitch and bury the bastard politically.
  Another major tragedy was that the Brisbane Broncos didn't win the NRL premiership. If you don't know what I'm referring to, Google it.
 
Now for the good things that happened in 2016......
Bugger! I can't think of any.

Happy 2017.

A magic Xmas

It was just one of those years. My lovely child bride had to go back to Vietnam for family reasons, leaving me alone for Xmas and New Year.

This may sound sad to many of you and in some ways it was. For five weeks I had to cook for myself, clean the house and water her ladyship's flowers and garden. In addition, I had to wash my clothes. I got quite inventive with that. I found that if I turned my under ware inside out, I could get two days out of them before washing. I was even more inventive with socks. I discovered that on day two I could put them on opposite feet to the previous day. Then, on day three I could turn them inside out, and on day four I could reverse the feet thing again. How good is that! Four days out of a pair of socks! Think of the water and washing powder I saved. I might tell my wife to keep doing that, so we can save money and go to MacDonalds once a year on the savings. Bloody genius!

As for cooking, I have become a connoisseur of $5 supermarket pizzas, $8 roast chickens and potato chips. Once again, I'm proud of the savings in food costs.

Now, as for Xmas. I saved money again. No decorations, no presents, no loud, boring friends and family. Absolutely perfect!

As you may have noticed, I made a fairly strong point about the savings.This was all to the good. Those wonderful savings allowed me spend Xmas with a rather copious supply of very good single malt Scotch whiskey, excellent Australian shiraz and ice cold Heineken beer. I used those to wash down a sumptuous Xmas dinner of pizza, ham and chicken while watching the new James Bond movie, Spectre. From what little I can remember, it wan't a bad movie.

Sadly, I had to work the next day. As I was grumpily going about my work with the worlds worst headache and eyes that resembled a pair of vultures arseholes in a power dive, I received zero sympathy from my co-workers. I was quite irked by this, until I realised the they were suffering too. I then thought to myself, "Who cares?", because there was no way they felt worse than me.

All in all, it was a wonderful Xmas. Thank God my wife will be here to rescue me next year.

Presidents Putin and Trump at their first Moscow meeting

First Meeting

"Will you agree to help build the Mexican wall?"

"Da."

"Can I count on you to help us screw the Chinese?"

 "Da!"

"Great! And can we count on you to help us relocate

all our illegal Mexicans to Syria?"

"Da!!"

"Wonderful! Can the USA count on you not to bomb the shit out of

us, until after my Presidency?"

"DA!!! I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. I've been calling my father to bring us some tea.

The silly old bugger is almost deaf. Can we start again?" 

Cooking Roadkill

Sadly, in Australia, the sight of dead birds and animals killed by cars on the road is a common sight. These are commonly known as road kill.

Some people are known to collect fresh road kill to cook for food. While I can, kind of, understand this, it's not something that I could bring myself to do, particularly in light of my ownership of a beautiful Roseate Cockatoo (Galah).

Cockatoos are renown to have very tough flesh and are considered to be unfit for human consumption. I'm not sure about this, as I recall a recipe that my Grandfather told me about how to cook a cockatoo. It goes like this.

1. Collect your dead cockatoo from the side of the road.
2. Pluck it and remove its guts.
3. Place a large rock in a pan full of water and bring to the boil.
4. When the water is boiling, add the cockatoo.
5. When the rock is soft, throw out the cockatoo and eat the rock.

Bon Appetit.

The Very Clever Two faces Of President Elect Trump (my opinion, to which you are welcome)

The USA and, indeed, much of the world is in an uproar over the election of "The Donald" as the next US President. All this is being fuelled by politicians, extreme left wingers, the media and the financial elite, who see the well structured dominance of their world under threat. And, quite possibly, it is.

However, it is also quite possible that these comfortable elitists may have missed just how clever Mr. Trump is. He is a well educated, successful businessman, well attuned to using the media to his own advantage. He read the electorate very well and aimed his campaign at the disenfranchised and disillusioned section of the population that rarely vote because it is always just "more of the same".
Guess what kiddies? It worked!

You may doubt me, so I refer you to the rhetoric of fear, gutter language and outrage of his campaign speeches. I also refer you to the tone of his victory speech, where he sounded very humble and, might I say, Presidential. Which of these reflected the real Trump?
Again, guess what, kiddies. Both of them!

I believe that Mr. Trump is genuinely devoted to rebuilding the USA to its former glory, and God help anyone who gets in the way! Having said that, the man is educated and experienced enough to do what he has to do to achieve his goal, without endangering the country.

So, to all the institutionalised politicians, left wingers, the media and financial elite I say. You are so out of touch with your country that you are now dinosaurs. Get out of the way and let this man do the job that you have been incapable or unwilling to do for generations. The majority of your people have had their say.

In Australia, my country, I say to our politicians, watch and learn!

PS.

I have a new addition to the menagerie that makes up my family. He is a galah. A very beautiful native Australian bird. Galahs are known for their loud voices and crazy antics.

The Urban Dictionary's definition is:-
An "Old Australian" word; a derogatory term that means a "loud-mouthed idiot." Named specifically for the galah, a native Australian bird that makes a distinctive (and quite funny-sounding) call.

I only received my new pet yesterday and had trouble finding a name for him. Due to the above definition, I thought the name of a politician was a good idea. However, when trying to choose which politician, I realised that, no matter which one I chose, it would be an insult to such a beautiful creature. So I named him "Oigle", a favourite cartoon character from my childhood. As I'm now in my second, or is it third childhood, I thought it appropriate.

Meet Oigle

I must admit that he's far better looking than most, if not all, politicians.

Best Friends

There's a lot of talk about the benefits of having dogs in your life. Guide dogs, assistance dogs. police dogs, sniffer dogs (drugs, IEDs. etc), and "feel good" dogs making the elderly and mentally stressed feel happy and relaxed.

And then there's Gonzo! Bloody Gonzo! Gonzo the great! Gonzo, the fearless destroyer of valuable plants, fearless predator of cats, foxes, rabbits, birds and strong wind.

So, who is Gonzo? He is a Blue Heeler that, at 8 weeks of age, chose me to be his carer at an animal rescue centre about 6 years ago. He is also one of the smartest dogs I've ever had. I've never had a dog that can communicate so well. He has his own body language and quite easily communicates what he wants. He also has the worst farts in the world!

The very best thing about Gonzo is the unconditional love that he shares with everyone he meets.

I'm proud to introduce Gonzo. My best friend!

About An Old Fart And His Childish Dream

As a teenager and then again in my forties, I played in rock bands. Semi professionally as a teen, meaning that we occasionally got paid a pittance for a gig, and even more occasionally a free beer or two. It was never enough to remotely cover our costs, but that didn't matter. The band I played in, later in life, was an originals band. I wrote the lyrics and our lead guitarist arranged the music. We played a number of quite large gigs, developing a quite good following. Sadly, the band broke up after a couple of years due to "creative differences". This means that three of the five members were control freaks (me included), and not remotely inclined to listen to each other.

"Why am I rambling on about bands?", you might well ask. It's simple. Last week, after a marathon viewing of Santana playing live on YouTube, I decided to buy a kit of drums to mess around on.
"Why drums?", you may well also ask. I forgot to mention that I was a drummer in the aforementioned bands while mentioning the also aforementioned problems therein. That sentence should go a long way towards doing your head in. I actually ordered the drums in a moment of nostalgic insanity, only to cancel the order two days later, in a rare moment of lucidity.

"Why did you cancel the order?", you may or may not ask yourself of someone close to you.
During that moment of lucidity. a number of potential problems arose. These included (not necessarily in order of importance) possible divorce, annoying the hell out of the neighbours, making the dogs bark, causing traffic accidents in front of my house and causing cramp in my tired old hands and feet.

However, the number one problem was what to call a band of pensioners, should I form one.
A few names sprang to mind:-
Gerry Atric and the Pacemakers
Creak, Rock and Collapse
Val Lium And The Shakers
Alt Heimer's Mindbenders
etc..

The sad thing about this story, apart from the fact that it's true, is that old farts, like me, have these unfulfilled and unrealistic dreams and are compelled to post on blogs about it, resulting in mass yawns around the globe. Just like the one you're having right now.

The Gathering Of The Local Bad Mannered Morons

An amazing event occurred in my neighbourhood a couple of days ago. Coles dared to open a new supermarket next door to arch rival Woolworths. "So what?' you may well ask. I totally agree with you. Who gives a shit? Certainly not me! It's not as though no-one has ever been to a Coles supermarket before. They only have a few thousand of them throughout Australia.

But the local cretins cared! They arrived in droves to inspect this great new wonder. I stayed away for a couple of days, due to impossible parking, not needing to shop and a nasty bout of gastroenteritis. The thought of crapping in my car while hunting for a parking spot didn't really appeal.

Unfortunately, today I had to do some food shopping for the weekend. Here's how it went.

The car park was almost full, so parking took time. I finally found a vacant spot in the disabled parking zone. As I entered the parking spot, a bloody moron started sounding his horn and screaming abuse at me. Obviously, he thought his needs were greater than mine. I might also point out that he did not have a disabled parking permit displayed. I am a disability pensioner and do have a valid parking permit, which was displayed. Even after I finished parking, the moron kept on sounding his horn and screaming abuse. My disability is in my lower back, making getting in and out of a car a very painful exercise, putting me in a bad mood. In the said bad mood, I can be a little aggressive. Being 183 cm tall, 130 kg, with long hair and a "Don't fuck with me!" beard can present a tad intimidating image. As I strolled towards the screaming moron with a grin on my face, he went silent and drove off. That made my day!

I didn't visit Coles, as I'd seen a few thousand of them before. Instead, I went to Woolworths, as I was parked closer. The place was almost deserted. This suited me, because I seriously hate shopping. In and out quickly, like a priest in a bride's dressing room, is my idea of good shopping. The bonus was, what a week ago was a tired, poorly stocked supermarket, now had full shelves, fresh vegetables and an egg display that didn't feature broken eggs. Bloody amazing!

Outside the carnage continued. Drivers tooting their horns and yelling, mothers jockeying for position to push their over laden, Coles' trolleys down the ramp to the car park, complete with snotty, crying kids in tow and the fetid smell of the unwashed.

Having endured all this, I was happy to drive home, after 10 minutes trying to get out of the bloody car park. As I sit here, typing, with a glass of single malt whiskey next to me. I can only hope the novelty of that damned annoying new supermarket wears off fairly quickly.

The Great Toilet Debate

We've all had this debate. Whether to leave the toilet seat up or down after using it.
I'm a "leave it up person". Primarily for hygienic reasons. You can see if the toilet is clean or not. There's nothing worse than spending an enjoyable thirty minutes or so, doing what you have to do, while reading or playing games on your smart phone, only to discover later while flushing (assuming that you do flush), that the previous occupant has left some untoward substances caked on under the seat. I defy those of you who are "put it down people" to argue with that!

Some other things to consider when the seat is left down are:-
Are there any spiders, cockroaches, frogs, snakes, bacteria or dangerous viruses lurking there?
Has the previous occupant had a nasty bowel explosion for you to share?
And finally, do you really want to know about the disgusting build up of, God knows whose, pubic hair that is preventing the toilet seat from being all the way down?

So, as you can see, I've made my case for leaving the seat up.
I'm sure many of you have an opposite opinion. You are welcome to your opinions and I respect that. 
Finally, with regard to opinions. Opinions are like arseholes. Everybody has one and they are both often full of crap.
That's my opinion!

Vietnam And Australia Jointly Claim The Spratly Islands

 In an historical international agreement, Vietnam and Australia have formed a partnership in the ownership of the Spratly Islands, with China's consent. This was very kind of China, considering that the Spratlys are located nowhere near China's mainland.

The agreement came at a cost to Australia which had to concede Kangaroo Island in South Australia to the Chinese, who have laid clam to the island since before Australia broke off from Gondwana Land.

Most importantly, China, Vietnam and Australia have all agreed not to weaponise any of the islands. The Spratly Islands will be mined for all of its natural resources, with the profits going to Malcolm Turnbull and the families that make up the Vietnamese government.

The Chinese will cull the kangaroos and koalas on Kangaroo Island to supply the world's largest Dim Sum factory which will be built there, using Chinese asbestos and Chinese labour.

The three participating countries in the agreement all hope that the rest of the world will notice that territorial differences can easily be overcome without violence.

G'day To My Russian Viewers And My Take On The Olympics

Just recently, I've received a large number of Russian viewers of this blog. I welcome you with a hearty привет.
I wish you all well and thank you for your interest. My best friend, as a child, was the son of Russian
immigrants to Australia, after WW2. We had some seriously wild adventures together as children.
Sadly, he died in his mid twenties. Vale Alex!

Now to the Olympics.
In my opinion, These are the worst Olympics ever. Under prepared, lousy accommodation, pool water turning green, athletes mutating after pool events and muggings, to name a few.

Despite all of that, the Rio Olympics Management Committee have decided to celebrate the these wildly successful (joking) Olympics with a small "in house" event to reward those responsible.
Those rewarded will include the organisers, the security, the hookers, drug dealers and the muggers.
The event will be a kind of  minor heptathlon (only 4 events). The events are as follows:-

The two kilometer ocean swim at Copacabana Beach. The winner will be the contestant whose body mutates the least, within thirty days of completing the swim.

The ten kilometer walk, dressed only in a grass skirt through Rio's poorest slums. The winner will be the first contestant who completes the walk without receiving life threatening injuries.

The four day live-in in the athletes village. The winner will be the person, with the least injuries, who survives without being beaten, raped, robbed, electrocuted or being jabbed with used needles.

The ten kilometer mini-marathon. This event will be run through the back streets of Rio and the contestants will wear a money belt stuffed with US dollars. The winner will be the fist person past the finish line. *Note. It not expected that there will be a winner.

Instead of gold medals, the winners will receive a gold painted glass tube containing an antidote for the Zika virus. This seems a little strange as, at this time, no such antidote exists. It is suspected that tap water from the athletes village will be used instead.

A Wonderful New Website

Just a very quick post alerting you to a new website, compiled by....wait for it....me!
The address is http://www.thereprobate.com
Enjoy, or not.

Donald and Hillary's Secret Tryst

Yep, this is it! A unofficial photo of the two contenders for the American presidency frolicking on the beach at a secret hideaway.
You'd have to be asking yourself,"Why are these two arch rivals making out?". We can only guess at the answer. Here are some of the highest ranked possibilities.

• They are planning a love child, whom they will name Vladimir or Angela

• They are planning to adopt Vlad and Angela.

• They have entered into a bipartisan arrangement whereby they will share the nuclear launch codes.

• They have just clinched a deal with the Chinese Premier to open a chain of genuine Chinese restaurants throughout the USA, to be situated in all Trump owned properties and the Clinton's backyard. These restaurants are to be excluded from any preemptive nuclear attacks by China.

• The two lovebirds have just concluded an agreement with their new BFF, Vlad, to hack into Warren Buffet's bank accounts and empty them into a secret offshore bank account.

• Hillary has just decided to get some revenge on hubby, Bill, in the worst possible way.

• They are shooting a scene from a new movie, "Beach Bonking Billionaires".

• They are negotiating the formation of their own new political party, thereby ensuring that they can alienate the entire American population. This will drive the country into deep recession, allowing the Trumps and Clintons to buy the whole country.

• None of the above, because this article is just plain rubbish.

Moving House With a Teacher, Gardener and Hoarder

Just to clarify things, the teacher, gardener and hoarder can be simplified by just using one term. That term is "wife".

I am just in the final stages of the house moving saga. This means that all our stuff has been transported the vast distance of eight kilometres, more or less, intact. The major casualty of the move is me! Do I feel sorry for myself? Damn right, I do! Is my back suffering intense pain? Damn right, it is.! Are my nerves shot to hell and am I seriously grumpy? Yep, damn right on both counts! Do most of the problems seem over stated because I've given up the booze? Quite possibly!

Having had my little rant, it's time for my big one. The previous occupants of the house were not Australian and lived a very different lifestyle to what I'm used to. For example, they only ever used one burner on the gas stove. Consequently, the other three were corroded beyond repair and both the oven and the grill had died years before. The result. A new stove.

This has seriously ruined the lives of the thousands of cockroaches that had happily called the old stove home for a number of years. I ruined their lives even further by setting off a few cockroach bombs. I'm happy to say that they have all moved on, one way or the other. The house also had an all pervading stench of old curry. My wife managed to get rid of that by cleaning every surface in the kitchen of years of oily, curry infused residue.

In addition, we discovered, in a most unfortunate way, that the toilet bowl had parted company with the screws holding it to the floor, making going to the toilet a very moving experience, in more ways than one. The result. A new toilet.

Now, getting back to the teacher, gardener, hoarder thing. In my experience, teachers are weird creatures. They are constantly collecting "teaching aids", not to be confused with AIDS. These are bits of what I can only describe as rubbish that are accumulated over the years to be used in lessons they teach. This must be a fairly recent habit, as the only aid my ex teachers used was a cane. However, in my opinion, when these teaching aids entirely fill up a spare room, the teacher, by definition, becomes a hoarder.

When the aforementioned teacher is also an avid gardener, with over two hundred potted plants, all of which must be moved to the new house, that is further proof of hoarding. Naturally, the removalist refused to carry the plants, resulting in more than twenty trips with my wagon, filled to the brim with bloody plants!

We are now in the final stage. This where my lovely wife wants to change the location of every piece of furniture at least five times in an effort to achieve "the look". I'm happy to be going back to work after my "holiday" and the booze is starting to look like a good idea again.

Rant over!

For now!

A Mildly Amusing View On Old Age

I'm old! That, in itself, is not remotely amusing. However, over the past many decades that I've been inflicted on this planet, I've heard a few quotes that put old age in perspective. Some are original, most aren't. Enjoy!

Regular naps prevent old age, especially if you take them while driving.
Few women admit their age; few men act it.
At what age is it appropriate to tell my dog that he's adopted?
Transitional age is when during a hot day you don't know what you want – ice cream or beer.
Wine improves with age. I improve with wine.
Middle age is when work is a lot less fun and fun a lot more work.
Sex at age 70 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope.
Aging gracefully is like the nice way of saying you're slowly looking worse.
I grew a beard thinking it would say "Distinguished Gentleman." Instead, turns out it says, "Senior Discount, Please!

Here are a few on marriage.

I just read that 4,153,237 people got married last year, not to cause any trouble but shouldn't that be an even number?
Wife: "I look fat. Can you give me a compliment?" Husband: "You have perfect eyesight."
My ex wrote to me: Can you delete my number? I responded: Who is this?
My wife and I were happy for twenty five years. Then we met.
I haven't spoken to my wife for 18 months- I don't like to interrupt her.
I married Miss Right. I just didn't know her first name was Always.
What's the difference between your wife and your job? After five years your job will still suck.
Marriage is the main reason for divorce.

Yawn! Mildly amusing. Time for a nap.

The Pros And Cons Of Being Overweight.

Obviously, a very contentious question. I'm not sure why it's contentious, it just seemed like a good thing to write.

I'm overweight. There, I said it! I really don't think it's a bad thing for me, although some of my family members disagree.

Here are some of the pros.
There are no wrinkles on a balloon, so I'm often told that I look more than a decade younger than my 68 years.
I don't have to avoid delicious food to try and keep a svelte figure.
The same goes for booze. I can drink copious quantities of good booze without getting fall down drunk. I'm told this due to my bulk. Sadly, the traffic police don't buy this.

Now for some of the cons.
I haven't seen my feet or my "old fella" for years. I know they are still there, because I can feel them in the shower. See how I kept that sentence clean? In two ways. 
I have an increased risk of a heart attack. My, now deceased doctor told me that. I actually had my heart attack 13 years ago, when I was slim.
Women don't find me attractive. I couldn't care less! At least my very lovely wife still adores me (she says).

Finally, to all those critics and haters of "over sized" people, I say "I'll bet you beat me to the grave". In fact, I'm so confident of that, I'll personally pay you $100, if I'm wrong.

Getting Screwed? Screw the Screwer.

All the information outlined in this post is my personal opinion and should not be taken as infallible.

See the above sentence? Take note.

Although I may be an old fart, I'm not necessarily senile or particularly stupid which may surprise many of you.
Over the past sixty something years, many people or businesses have either taken advantage of me, or tried to. Some were successful, most weren't. Since the advent of the internet, I have devised a way of turning the tables on those who try to screw me. In other words, I've became the screwer, not the screwee (lots of new words here).

In the past three years, I've managed to turn the tables on three different organisations that have tried to screw me over. They were a finance broker, a law firm and a real estate agent. I won't mention names, to avoid potential future litigation.

This is how it works.
Almost all businesses these days have a website, extolling the virtues of their organisations, although a surprising number still don't.. In Australia, most of them use the Australian suffix, eg. Dudcompany.com.au. Note the au at the end, Canada uses .ca, Russia uses .ru etc. However, they are so caught up in showing the viewers of the website that they are Australian, using the au suffix that they forget to register the plain old .com. This is where they come undone.

If you have been ripped off, lied to or just badly mistreated, go online and register that business' ,com.
It only costs around US$20 for 12 months. Then build a website and link it to a blog where you can outline that company's bad practices. Upload the website on to the internet and then sit back and watch them scream. It also helps if you email them your URL, so they quickly become aware of it.

Now for some important points.
1  Don't put anything on you website and claim it to be fact, unless you can include copies of actual documents. Write the entire blog and website as YOUR PERSONAL OPINION.
2. When the company contacts you and demands you take you website down (and they will), stay calm, be concise as to why you took this action and NEVER threaten them (although they will probably threaten you) and NEVER ask them for money to remove the site. Just refuse to remove your website and wait for them to make an offer. Get their offer in writing.
3. When you come to an agreement and actually receive a cheque refunding you for the amount they robbed you, take the website down immediately. You win.
4. When I do this, I also register Dudcompany.org and .net, which I don't mention to them, just as a bit of insurance.

Please remember, just state your personal opinion and don't state a fact, unless you can support with documentation, which should be displayed on your website. Don't demand money to take down your site. That could be seen as blackmail. Wait for them to make an offer.

Good luck!
This post is just my personal opinion and no guarantees or promises have been made. See!

Marrying Yourself?

It was reported by News.com, today, that a 42 year old American woman changed her name to Beautiful Existence, travelled to Paris and legally married herself.
Yep, it really happened. This made me think what it would be like to be married to myself.

Here's the good and bad of it. First of all, it appears that a weird name change would be in order. Something hippyish from the 60s and 70s. A few choices would be Fragrant Armpit, Silky Backhair, Unshaven Sweetcheeks and of course my favourite, Saggy Nads. However to do that would be a pain in the bum (how about Rosey Hemhorroid?), due to having to change all my personal details, bank accounts, licenses etc.

Life would be kind of boring because I'd always agree with myself and domestic violence would mean self flagellation. I really can't see myself caning my own butt because I agreed with myself too much.

I'm also not too sure about the sleeping arrangements. I can't imagine curling up at night with an overweight, hairy, unshaven me, complete with whiskey breath and flatulence. With that in mind, I've just made a mental note to buy some flowers for my lovely, long suffering wife for putting up with me.

Then there are all the things that I would get to share with myself. Little things such as all the cleaning, cooking, clothes washing, food shopping and taking the garbage out. Hang on. I already do most of that, anyway!

So, all in all, the whole exercise seems like a waste of time and energy. I'll just stay blissfully married to the missus.

Strange Happenings Over Easter

As you are no doubt aware, strange things happen around my home, particularly over the holiday season. Maybe that's not quite true. Maybe it happens all the time and I just notice it more, because I'm at home.

Fortunately, I had my not so trusty camera at the ready, just to prove my claims which, without photographic evidence, would appear absurd.

At this time of the year, insects grow to enormous size and are quite bold and somewhat dangerous.This particularly applies to bees and cockroaches. A bee recently picked up my Labrador and flew away with her. You think I'm joking? Look below for photographic proof.

See, I told you so! I think the bee could also be trying to mate with her. 

Would the offspring be called Labeeradores? Or possibly Labees?

Happily, she returned a few hours later, unharmed, and liberally coated in honey. Looking to take advantage of the situation, I scraped all the honey off the dog, heated it gently (the honey, that was), strained it through an old sock and bottled it. I now have enough honey to last a year. The downside is that it does have a faint smell of flea repellent and sweat

Easter is the time we can all enjoy Hot Cross Buns. Actually, we can enjoy them from mid January, because that's when the supermarkets start stocking them. Being a traditionalist, I wait until Easter. But I digress. This morning, I had just taken some buns out of the oven, when there was a knock at the front door. As I opened it, I was rudely shoved aside by the largest cockroach I have ever seen. 

This huge insect ambled over to the kitchen table, hissed aggressively at me and proceeded to eat the Hot Cross Buns. Not content with the buns, the bloody thing ate the knife, the butter and the daffodils, before swaggering back outside and flying off.

For some strange reason, it didn't drink the coffee. 

Probably because it was instant coffee, not percolated.

As I said, strange things happen in my home at this time of year. Happy Easter and don't answer knocks at the door!

A Very Quick Post On Terrorists

I usually deliberately write posts that are either ridiculous or slightly amusing. However, this post is as serious as I can get. This is my take on terrorists. These filthy, gutless, stinking pigs are a blight on our world. They randomly and senselessly murder innocent men, women and children for no reason other than to cause fear. For this alone, they deserve to be exterminated, like the vermin they are.

First of all, the media need to stop sensationalising the activities of the terrorists. Instead of 30 minutes of graphic reporting of each terrorist attack, they should just announce the event in a restrained manner. Making it a sensation might attract viewer ratings and sell more advertising, but it is just playing into the terrorist's hands, by spreading fear.

Secondly, when governments around the world uncover the identities of terrorists, either real or seriously suspect, they should arrest them, remove the citizenship or revoke the visas of the terrorists extended families and deport them back to their original countries. It is reasonable to believe that some family members are aware of their relatives' terrorist intentions and are therefore guilty by association by not alerting the authorities. The knowledge that they will be deported may even push them to call the relevant authorities.

Finally, we need to pressure our political leaders into taking stronger, more immediate action.
That's all I will ever have to say on this topic.

The Birth Of McAlithumpia

I quite often get asked which religion I belong to. I find this a very rude question, as it is my personal  belief, and no-one else's business but mine. Usually, I tell the enquirer to piss off or mind their own business, or I will just say, "I'm a Calathumpian". This lead me to thinking that creating a new philosophy for life, called Calathumpia, would be a good idea. Sadly, a little bit of investigation revealed that the name Calathumpia was not remotely original and could refer to a new philosophy (good), a noisome band, a criminal gang, a theatre or a premises. I was gutted! My dreams were shot down!

As a resilient and shy kind of guy, I pondered for a long time (about 10 minutes) and decided that, as the founder of this new life philosophy, its name should reflect mine. I'm proud to announce the birth of McAlithumpia, pronounced Makalithumpia. This reflects my Scottish ancestry and the Mc prefix of my surname. Fortunately, I don't have a problem with modesty or self promotion, therefore the name is totally apt. As the illustrious founder of McAlithumpia, I can be referred to "Your McEminence".

My McEminence

I suppose the answers to some, soon to be, frequently asked questions should now be addressed,

FAQs
Q. Who should I worship?
A. Who gives a damn? McAlithumpia is a philosophy of living, not a bloody religion!

Q. What rules do you have for those of us who want to follow McAlithumpia?
A. None. Make your own rules, If you end up in prison or get killed, it's all on you. Don't try to lay any blame on me or McAlithumpia.

Q. How often do I have to pray to you and in which direction should I face?
A. If you are silly enough to want to pray, pray FOR me, not TO me. As for the direction, try into the mirror. You can get to see a real idiot.

Q. What exactly is McAlithumpia's philosophy?
A. At last! A good question. Very simply there are only a few rules to follow.
     1. Don't hurt yourself or others.
     2. Be true to yourself and not controlled by others.
     3, Any other rules that I may think of on a day to day basis.

Q. How much do I have to pay, if I want to be a McAlithumpian?
A. Absolutely nothing! However, if you feel philanthropic, you may donate as much as you wish to enable me to lead a lifestyle that will allow me to expand on McAlithumpia and write full time about its wonders.

As you can see, McAlithumpia will be a boon to mankind. Feel free to write to me for personal advice, which I will post on this blog.

Just an afterthought, McAlithumpia is covered by copyright.

A Semi-Apocalype Maybe

In my last post, I predicted an Apocalypse, during my up coming camping trip. It didn't quite work out that way. Several things changed prior to the trip and during it.

Some of the good things that happened were that my wife's nephew couldn't make it and my Blue Heeler dog didn't fart in the tent. In addition to that, the scenery at Johanna Beach was spectacular and the drop toilet didn't harbour any redback spiders and were surprisingly clean. Although, I must admit that the provided toilet paper ran out on the second day. This was not from any over use by my wife or I. Fortunately, due to a very brief spell as a Boy Scout, I was prepared and had taken our own supply of toilet paper. I'm sure that you needed to know that.

The 2 metre surf at Johanna Beach was consistent for 3 days

The drive down to the beach was around 200 kilometers and took about two and a half hours. We only had one minor problem on the way. On a heavily forested country road, I took a bend and ran over a large, hard, black plastic object laying in the middle of the road, which promptly got jammed up under my car. The car was loaded with about a tonne of camping gear, food, water and dogs, which needed to all be removed to let me access my jack, to allow me to lift the car to remove the black plastic thingy. Several phone calls to to RACV for road side assistance were fruitless. Just as I was about to unload the car, a good samaritan drove past, saw I was in trouble and stopped to help. Fortunate, he had a jack in the back of his truck and we were on our way again a few minutes later. He was really nice guy and and I was very grateful for his help. 

We finally arrived at our camp site and started to erect the tent. The tent was brand new, very large and had no manual showing how to put the bloody thing up. After about an hour of swearing, struggling and sweating (it was about 30C) we finally worked out how to do it.

We finally got the bloody tent sorted out!

By the time we finished with the tent, put up the gazebo and unloaded the car, we were tired, irritated and sunburned. 

Our finished camp site.

To celebrate the completion of the herculean task, Kim and I took the dogs for a walk to check out the beach,

Me, the dogs and the beach.

And for a pleasant change, Kim and the same dogs. Same beach, too.

That night, we inflated our brand new queen sized air bed. We were really tired and looked forward to a comfortable night's sleep; only to discover that the bloody bed had a nasty habit of deflating over night, requiring us to get up and reinflate it every three hours! At this point, I would like to say that the tent, wtihout instructions, and the leaky airbed were purchased from Ray's Outdoors. Enough said. My bad.

The mongrel leaky air bed

Day two was basically a cool, relaxing, recovery day, spent walking reading eating and drinking a bottle or two of shiraz. The only downer was that our bloody great Labrador managed to drag her walking chain across my right shin, effectively removing a large portion of skin.

 Me, book and dogs.

Now, let's get to night two. The overnight forecast was for a comfortable 17C. IT WENT DOWN TO AROUND 5C!! We absolutely froze all night and we had no warm clothes nor blankets. Thank God for shared body warmth. I guess you really didn't need to know that, either. Added to the cold was our ever deflating bed.

So, it was not surprising that, on the third day, we decided that enough was enough. We had to wait several hours for the heavy dew on the tent to dry. As soon as it did, we packed up and left.

We decided to take the long way home along The Great Ocean Road. Everyone should drive that road at least once in their lives. Amazing scenery at every turn, and there were lots and lots and lots and lots of turns. As I said, everyone should drive it at least once. Or better still, take a bus.

All in all, it wasn't  Armageddon. It came close on a few occasions, but generally it was quite enjoyable. I realise that I've focused on the crappy bits and I make no apologies for that, as I find gushing, warm, fuzzy travelogues nauseating.

To my horror, Kim is already planning our next camping trip, sans deflating airbed. Wish me luck!

Future Apocalypse

Why an Apocalypse? Only because the impending momentous event coincides with the definition of an Apocalypse,

Def.  1.a prophetic revelation, especially concerning a cataclysm in which the forces of good permanently triumph over the forces of evil.
2.any revelation or prophecy.
3.any universal or widespread destruction or disaster.

As you can see, the definitions focus on "revelation", "good and evil" and "destruction and disaster".
All of the above are what will, quite possibly, define my family's up and coming camping trip.
You may notice that I've use the word "Apocalypse" quite often, so far. "Why?" you ask. Only because I love the way the word Apocalypse rolls off my tongue, full of menace and impending doom, sending shivers down my spine.

Here are some of the elements that may portend the potential Apocalypse.
1. Me. A decrepit old man with a sharp tongue and a quick temper. (I like the word "tongue, too, only because I can spell it.)
2. My long suffering wife. A lovely, but fairly naive woman, whose only prior camping experience can be described as "glamping", complete with elevated tents, bunks to sleep on, hot and cold running water, showers and a flushing toilet.
3. My 30 something nephew. Great with a computer, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a camping virgin.
4. Our two dogs. A snoring Labrador and a foul farting Blue Heeler.
5. A campsite, exposed to the elements with the only facility being a drop toilet.
6. A brand new 12 man tent, purchased 3 years ago and still in its original bag, still unopened and unused. We will, hopefully, be erecting the said tent for the first time in forecast 35 kph winds. Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Apocalypse!
7. No camp beds. Just sleeping bags on the floor of the tent.
8. No showers for three days.
9. All meals to be cooked on a single gas ring cooker, outside the tent, in the open.
10. No drinkable water. We have to take our own.
11. Cool weather forecast. Night time temperatures will be less than 10C.
12. Other unforeseen problems that will undoubtedly occur in the face of the impending      Apocalypse.

That is my prophesy. Should we survive the experience, I'll post it on here. If you don't see another post by mid March, say a prayer, however, I fear it will be too late.

Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Apocalypse!

Weirdos In The Aisles

Time for a well deserved rant.

I work in retail, where customer service is the most important part of the job. Or it's supposed to be. However, this can be very difficult, when you work in a predominately low socioeconomic area with a large recent immigrant population.

Most of the people I work with handle the language, accent, bad manners and cultural differences of our customers really well, but occasionally we are tested to our limits.

Typical conversations can go like this.

Customer. "I'm looking for a little twisty thing to fit my car's music thingy. Can you show me where it is?"
Me. "Umm, could you describe what the twisty thing looks like and what it does?"
Customer. "It looks like a twisty thing and it twists."
Me. "I'm sorry, but I'm having a bit of difficulty trying to understand what it looks like. Do you have a photo of it or can you draw it for me?"
Customer."Do I look like a bloody artist or photographer to you? Just tell me where I can find it!"
Me. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm pretty sure that we're out of stock of twisty things at the moment. You could try Googling "twisty thing" and see who stocks it locally,"
Customer. "You're f------g useless! I'm never coming back here!"
Me, to myself, "Thank God for that."

Customer. "I want to make a coffee table. Can you tell me what I need and show me how to do it?"
Me. "I'll certainly try. Please tell me what size table you want to build."
Customer, waving his arms around like a Banshee, "It's about this wide and this long."
Me. "How high do you want it to be?"
Customer. "High? What do you mean high?"
Me. "How high do you want the table to be off the floor?"
Customer. "Are you stupid? I want it to be on the floor, not hanging from the ceiling!"
Me. "OK, I understand. What timber would you like to use?"
Customer. "No, not timber. I want to use wood!"
Me. "Sorry, my mistake. What wood do you want to use?"
Customer. "What's the cheapest?"
Me. "I'd recommend radiata pine."
Customer. "How much will it cost me?"
Me. "About $..."
Customer. "Can I make any cheaper?"
Me. "Not if you want it to look good and last a long time."
Customer. "OK, I'll check with the store down the road. If you're the cheapest, maybe I'll come back."
Me, under my breath, "Don't hurry."

Add the aforementioned language, accent and cultural differences and you can image why I'm rapidly developing a drinking problem.

Young and Jacksons Hotel..A sad tale

Young and Jacksons was created in 1875, after being renamed from The Princes Bridge Hotel. It's situated directly opposite Flinders Street Station in central Melbourne. It is rightly famous for many reasons (Google it).

Until about 3 years ago, I was a regular visitor to their ground floor, corner restaurant, enjoying tasty, reasonably priced food, the atmosphere and watching the passing parade, exiting Flinders Street Station. As I stated, I hadn't been there for about three years, due to work commitments. Fortunately, I erroneously thought, it would be a wonderful opportunity to introduce my new wife to that lovely place. 

What bad idea that turned out to be. My lovely wife, who is a fanatic for chocolate sundaes, immediately ordered one, only to tell me that it was disgustingly tasteless and refused to finish it.

For lunch, she ordered a minute steak and vegetables. Her steak varied in thickness, ranging from wafer thin to quite thick. The thin end was as tough as shoe leather and the thick end was almost raw and tasteless. However, she enjoyed the veggies. 

I opted for a gigantic burger. What I received was served cold, the burger was dry and tasteless. In fact inedible. The glass of wine that I ordered with the meal ($12) was forgotten and had to be reordered. It was served in a very small glass less than half filled (a bottle costs around $22 at a liquor shop).

The table service was lousy at best and, no doubt due to Young and Jackson's current reputation, The restaurant was almost empty.

Needless to say, we will never be going back!

Wonderful Australian Inventions

As we (should) all know, Australia is a land of genii (plural for genius and pronounced jee-nee-ahy).
Over the past century, we have produced some of the most wonderful inventions known to man and woman kind.

Just recently, an article was published in America,  bestowing accolades on the wonderful invention of the amazing squeezy sauce packet. This wonderful invention allows pie eaters (sniggering quietly in the background) to apply tomato sauce by just squeezing the sauce filled packet over a meat pie or eggs?? ( more sniggering). See below.
 

How wonderful and world changing is this?

Other, less important, inventions by amazing Australians are listed below.

The Cork Hat.

Used in areas where the flies are that bad that continuously waving ones arms around, ( also known as the Australian salute) just gets too exhausting. Not sure where the corks are found as the wearers of such hats would usually not touch anything else than beer and even if they did drink wine it would more likely be the cask variety like Chateau Migraine than a decent bottle with a real cork. Sadly real corks rarely exist anymore, so aluminium screw on lids are used, resulting in serious eye injury. Still a good invention, though.

The Esky

Portable insulated box to carry beer around while keeping it cold, invented in the 1950s, originally of metal and later of plastic, can also be used to sit on. Standard equipment in any Australian household. In USA known as cooler or in New Zealand known as chully bun (chilly bin in English).

The Hills Hoist

Adelaide car mechanic Lance Hill had a brilliant idea in 1946 and came up with a clothes line that was so practical and user friendly that every Australian wanted one and in the next 50 years his factory produced one million of them and made him a multi-millionaire. Next to the barbeque this is standard equipment for every Aussie back yard. Another important benefit is the addition of bird shit to the pattern on you drying clothes.

The Goon Bag   

In 1967 Thomas Angove came up with an alternative to the wine bottle; a plastic bag inside a cardboard box and a tap instead off a cork so you have no worries looking for a corkscrew. A hugely popular invention. Can also be recylced into a pillow when you are finished with the wine, simply place your mouth around the tap and inflate to desired size. Tip; to get the last bit of wine out of the cask rip open box, take out bag, inflate a little by blowing air in, and then pour wine out.

Best used when you are already half pissed, because the quality is just a tad suspect.

So, as you can see, Australian inventors are leading the world. So, all is as it should be.

Some other minor Australian inventions include,

Wi-Fi

Ultrasound

Vegemite

Victorian Bitter

The electric power drill

Ugg boots

The power lawn mower

The panel van. responsible for 50% of Australian conceptions.

The pacemaker

This all says how amazing our inventors are.
Happy Australia Day.