Kim Jong-un Master Puppeteer

Here we go again! Fatguts Kim has played the world again.

Faced with North Korea being turned into the world's largest radioactive parking lot by the USA, Kim has gone a a charm offensive. That alone is enough to want to make any rational person upchuck into their breakfast cereal.

First of all, he hijacked the Winter Olympics with a team of uncompetitive athletes(?), backed up by an equally unattractive cheer squad, in an attempt to show solidarity with South Korea. That alone is another reason to upchuck.

Then, he hints at the remote chance of a dialogue with Trump. Excuse me, while I recover from upchucking into my avocados and poached eggs on toast.  What bloody mess!

Now, we learn that he has had a "positive" discussion with China, where he declares that he is OK with disarming his nukes, if certain peaceful initiatives can be reached with the USA. All this, in order to reunite Korea. Are you shitting me?

Fatguts and his family have played these games before. And, at no time, have they ever honoured any agreements made! All he is doing is buying time to build his nuclear arsenal to a point where he can dominate South Korea and Japan, while holding the USA to ransom in order to protect their allies from devastation.

My opinion. Don't believe a word that parasite utters and build that parking lot!

A Trifecta of Twats... The Joyce,Turnbull and Shorten Hypocrisy

Hooray! After a very boring hiatus in Australian politics, we finally have some action. All this concerning Prime Mangler Turnbull, Deputy Prime Idiot Joyce and Leader of the Losers Shorten.

A quick rundown.

Joyce separates from his wife, falls in lust and becomes a prospective father, again. This is simply horrifying! Never before has a man done this! Thinking about this unthinkable action could cause mass affairs, divorces, tattoos and self harm mutilations throughout Australia's mindless, puritanical population.

Turnbull supports Joyce, then renounces Joyce and turns his back on the whole thing, trying not to get anyone offside, because he really does love being Prime Mangler. After all, it is his destiny, isn't it? Just ask him!

Shorten, with nothing better to do, picks up the cudgel and batters Joyce with it in a fit of righteous indignation, obviously never having had a lascivious thought in his life! Ask his wife.

As a  septuagenarian, wise beyond my years, here is my advice to the three of them.

Mr Joyce, don't let the bastards grind you down. Your private life is just that. Private! Is has absolutely nothing to do with anyone except you and your families, new and previous. I'm sure that you will do your best for all concerned. Good luck.

Prime Mangler Turnbull. Mind your own f**king business and get on with fixing the problems facing this country. You have achieved your dream, now show that you are worthy of the position and stay out of other people's private lives.

Now for Shorten. Hey, you lowlife dips**t, stay out of this situation. What kind of filthy animal are you to use a media beat up on another man's private life for your own worthless political gain? Grow a pair and attack the Prime Mangler's policies, offering some well thought out policies (choking on my coffee, here) of your own..

That's it. Rant ended.

The Citizenship Debacle

This post has been reprinted from my blog Pathetic Politicians of Australia.

In recent times we have seen a number of elected politicians being forced to resign due to having dual citizenship, in many cases unknowingly.

I'm not sure where or how this absolutely stupid witch hunt started, but a smug Shorten, who is resisting members of his own party being investigated, smells pretty bad.

Australia is one of the most successful multicultural countries in the world. This multiculturalism is one of things that makes this country such a wonderful place to live. And it is not a new thing. Our country has been home to people from different countries, races and cultures for over two hundred years.

Since Federation, you can safely bet that many of our elected officials, from Local Government through to the Prime Minister, by accident of birth, have been dual citizens. Has this been detrimental to Australia? Not one bit!
If that is the case, why are we having this seemingly well orchestrated witch hunt now? Who is going to benefit from it? Certainly not Australia.

To our current crop of seriously pathetic politicians, I say, " Do the job you were elected to do and nothing else!"

If they proceed with the witch hunt, then at some point, they are going to have check the background of all previously elected politicians and, just possibly, nullify every piece of legislation, submitted by a  dual citizen, that was ever passed into law. Sadly, some of the morons we elected will probably want to follow that path.

Scary, isn't it?

Turning 70

I haven't posted anything on here for a while. This is due to achieving the milestone (or should that be the pending tombstone?) of making it to seventy years old.

The effect on me has been far greater than I ever imagined. Prior to my birthday, I really looked forward to achieving something that three prior generations in my family had never attained.

I woke up on the morning of my 70th to the usual aches and pains, hobbled off to the toilet, as usual, grumbled as I fed my dogs, as usual, grumbled and abused my noisy pet galah as I fed it, as usual and mumbled under my breath as I woke up my wife to get up and get ready for work, as usual. Nothing had changed! Except that I now felt OLD!

I looked into the mirror, prior to shaving and noticed that the few lines on my face now looked old. I'm sure that it took at least five minutes longer to brush my teeth to the same whiteness as the day before. No matter how much I scrubbed myself in the shower, I was sure that I smelled old. All the shampoo, mouthwash, soap and aftershave couldn't disguise the smell of old! Even my regular efforts in the toilet smelled older!

It sounds terrible, doesn't it?

All very negative and old. Until my birthday party! A few of my favourite people attended, plus a few others, all bearing gifts and good wishes. One of the bottles of wine the one of the "others" brought must have cost at least $3. I actually heard the bacteria scream, as I tipped it down the sink. I should have saved half and tipped it down the toilet. They say that it's the thought that counts, not the gift. I'm still not sure what they thought about my waste water system.

All in all, it was a wonderful party and made me appreciate the special people in my life.

What's more, I'm enjoying every day and stretching the boundaries of how much bad behaviour is tolerated by society towards the elderly!

The "Just Looking" Jubblies

"What the hell is a Jubbly?", you ask. I have no idea. It's just a descriptive noun that I created to describe the people who wander aimlessly around shops looking at nothing in particular. The only words that come out of their mouths are a mumbled "Just looking".

I think those words are a well thought out and rehearsed defence mechanism, used by Jubblies, to ward off sales people who may intend to sell them something, rip them off, intentionally make them look stupid or inferior or, just possibly, genuinely want to help them.

It's just possible that these defenceless Jubblies spend hours in front of the mirror, perfecting the blank, gormless look and practising intensely for hours to create the the perfectly toneless "Just looking".

I can imagine the Jubbly couples getting home after wandering up and down the aisles of numerous retail outlets wearing their expressionless faces, cheeks almost cramping due to the muscle control needed to maintain that look, hands firmly thrust in their pockets, having spent nothing. There would be a lot of mutual cheek rubbing to relax the cramped cheek muscles, vigourous hand rubbing to unclench their long pocketed fists and wild grimacing to restore some facial expression.

All that would be followed by wild rejoicing in the fact that they had, once again, outwitted all those dimwitted salespeople who were after their money. They would probably celebrate with a weak cup of tea made with a thrice used teabag, as they hadn't allowed someone to sell them a new packet of tea bags.

All hail the victorious Jubblies!

Why I Should Be The Next James Bond

Rumours abound about who will play James Bond after Daniel Craig exits the role. Some morons are even touting a woman to play the part. Are you shitting me? Who would ever quake in fear of a woman called James? Nigel, yes. James, no.

Sean Connery, the original Bond is around the same vintage as me. A few years older maybe. The differences are that I still have all my own hair and teeth and I'm also sans wrinkles. The wrinkles thing is best explained by asking the question "Have you ever seen wrinkles on a balloon?". This brings me to my next point. Chronologically, Bond would now be in his late 70s. With a judicial application of makeup, I could look that wasted.

Connery also had copious quantities of body hair which was considered sexy in those days. In addition to my full head of hair, I still have copious quantities of body hair. Front and back. Long flowing locks of it. Enough to be styled in a succession of silken, silver plaits down my back. Bond girls, now in their late 60s, if you believe their publicists, would swoon over it. Think of the Rapunzel stunts I could do with that hair! Amazing!

As for acting ability, I have none. However, neither did Connery in the early Bond movies. But his ability evolved, as would mine. Also, in my favour, I have a strong tolerance for Martinis, shaken, not stirred of both the gin and vodka varieties. As for the physical and sexual stuff, I could use stunt doubles. Especially with the sex scenes involving 60+ saggy, wrinkly actresses.

As you can undoubtedly see, I would make a perfect new Bond, possibly with a slight name change. Bruce, Bruce Oldfart.

70th Birthday In Review

I've just turned 70 and I suddenly feel old! Very old! "Why?", you ask. "It was only a day or so ago. Nothing has changed!"
Wrong! Everything has changed! Getting out of bed in the morning is more difficult. Getting dressed requires more effort. I'm sleeping less, eating smaller meals and becoming irritable over small issues.

Oh, by the way, none of that has anything to do with turning 70. It's all about the world's worst bloody hangover, after my birthday party. It was the best party in my, ever fading, memory. I laughed so hard, my bottom lip split. That's another reason that I'm irritable. It hurts.

The table before the onslaught.

My wife invited 10 people to help me celebrate. Mostly her relatives and friends, A couple of them I'd never seen before. It didn't matter. They came bearing gifts. Mostly wine. Sadly, one of them must have spent $1.95 on a bottle of unidentifiable red wine. I vividly remember taking one sip, spitting it out and pouring the rest down the sink, where it managed to unblock a drain.

Among the guests I knew were my lovely ex wife, who came bearing an amazing bottle of very good single malt Scotch whiskey, which is why I referred to her as "lovely". Other known guests included my sister in law and her husband with nice gifts and my nephew in law (Is there such a thing?) and his wife with very drinkable wine.

The kitchen antics cracked me up. At one time there were four Vietnamese women working and arguing together while concocting several mouth watering dishes. It's sad the dishes tasted better than the food placed on them! Just joking! Great food. While all that was happening, my ex wife was conducting a master class in advanced sushi making. Absolutely amazing! My kitchen isn't that big and all that booty bumping made me feel young enough to want to boogie in the middle of it all!

After the onslaught.

During this time, my Italian brother in law, my Japanese ex wife, my Vietnamese nephew in law and I were conducting a multi national running commentary on the proceedings as it were. The result was great fun, great company, great food and an even greater hang over the next day.

Which is why I feel old! Very old!