Brain graze



He claims he's not the cricketer, but Matthew Hayden has rattled the pickets with this straight drive:
The electorate knows that sanctimonious hand-wringing, sheltered workshopism and blaming "society" for all of its ills does buggerall good. Now we've just got to convince all those squittering fluffs in the media, academe, the legal professions, and the arts of this as well. (Either that or friggin' shoot 'em!)


Getting it away in a manger. And he's not a New Zealander (code for bestiality story).


It's difficult to believe, but Phatty Adams has finally written an interesting, original article. Admittedly, as is his wont, he extensively pads with someone else's words. This unscientific mind will leave it to others to judge the worth of his proposal -- a partial cure to the problems of population and AIDS -- but his sources are credible and their methods so simple, it won't take much to be able to celebrate a colossal breakthrough or to enjoy the spectre of Phatty led up another garden path. Either is a satisfying prospect.


Readers have wondered what happened to this blog's regular Saturday race tips which ceased in the aftermath of the Melbourne Cup. Well, our esteemed tipster, Magic Mick Manley, had to leave town owing his bookie big-time (Only joking, I've been reminded of libel laws once already this week). No, Mick took some leave, I got caught up in family business and for the past few weeks all bets have been off, so to speak. The good news is that Mick's tips will be back in the New Year, so save the zacks from the Christmas pudding and get ready to send Waterhouse to the WC.
For now, courtesy of our Koroit comedy clearinghouse, we have the following seasonal racing yarn.

Riding the favourite at Cheltenham, a jockey was well ahead of the field
when suddenly out of nowhere he was hit in the face by a turkey and a string
of sausages. He managed to control his mount and pulled back into the lead
only to be struck by a box of Christmas crackers and a dozen mince pies.
Using all his skill he managed once again to steer his horse back to the
front of the field when on the run in he took a blow to the head by a bottle
of sherry and a Christmas pudding in a wicker basket.
He still managed to come in second but went immediately to the stewards to
complain that he had been seriously hampered.



Cynical, wise-cracking country singer and detective novelist Kinky Friedman (trouble-free registration) has wiped the sardonic smirk from his dial to pen a touching tribute to troubled kids, his departed parents and gin-soaked hummingbirds. Ahhh, Christmas . . . it'll do it to you every time!


I've unwittingly caused problems for an email acquaintance. In this blog I mentioned him in terms that could force officialdom to react adversely to him. I've deleted the post, but when he types his name into Google search, that post is the first reference up. Can someone explain step-by-step what I need to do to stop Google throwing up that post.


Jeffrey Scott Shapiro, the energetic young US scribe who found that a Middle Eastern kid in a New York suburb had predicted the World Trade Center bombing a week earlier to his teacher, has been peeling back layers again.
Recently in SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER, Shapiro profiled "Taliban'' Johnny Walker Lindh to come up with a more complex character than so far presented. Interesting piece.


Why would a bloke want a night vision scope for Christmas? Why bloody not, I say.
Ditto, a pellet gun. (Love the sound of pinging aluminium in the morning).
What on earth would he do with a Global Positioning Unit? Same as what he did with that pocket knife doover for taking stones out of horses' hooves; he'd have it in case in came in handy.
Splendid advice from Curmudgeonly & Skeptical for the little ladies on buying gifts for the man. Go girls.


Allow me to share a Christmas greeting from Dunc in the deep south-west:

Good King Wenceslas went into a well known pizza parlour.
"The usual, sir?", said the waiter.
"Yes," said Good King Wenceslas, "Deep pan, crisp and even."



What do we blame for these sad sacks that gluttonise on victimhood? Nanny state socialist politics that have useful idiots finding and saving the downtrodden at every turn? The pandemic of self-esteem which leaves fools incapable of thinking they could do anything dangerous or stupid? Or the law schools that keep churning out amoral greedheads with an eye to the main chance, often a multinat?
Whatever, victims are about and multiplying. And while dopey judges keep finding in their favour their numbers will grow.
This article points out that you don't even have to be human to be a victim. Even a deceased longneck qualifies:
A dead giraffe's privacy was threatened by prying reporters. When The Washington Post asked to see the National Zoo's medical records of a beloved giraffe after its death, the zoo said that viewing the records "would violate the animal's right to privacy and be an intrusion into the zookeeper-animal relationship."

You can be dumb as dogshit ignorant and still be a victim:
Schoolchildren were victimized by a word that sounds a bit like a racial slur but isn't. After Stephanie Bell, a fourth-grade teacher in Wilmington, N.C., used the word "niggardly" (stingy) in class, she was forced to apologise to parents, then counsellors were dispatched to comfort her students.



The modern women's pharaceutical catalogue provided by neighbourhood wag Eleanore Lee:


D a m i t o l
Take 2 and the rest of the world can go to hell for up to 8 hours.

S t. M o m s W o r t
Plant extract that treats mom's depression by
rendering preschoolers unconscious for up to six hours.

E m p t y N e s t r o g e n
Highly effective suppository that eliminates
melancholy by enhancing the memory of how awful they were as teenagers and how you couldn't wait till they moved out.

P e p t o b i m b o
Liquid silicone for single women. Two full cups
swallowed before an evening out increases breast size, decreases intelligence, and improves flirting.

D u m e r o l
When taken with Peptobimbo, can cause dangerously low I.Q. causing enjoyment of country western music.

F l i p i t o r
Increases life expectancy of commuters by controlling road rage and the urge to flip off other drivers.

M e n i c i l l i n
Potent antibiotic for older women. Increases
resistance to such lines as, "You make me want to be a better person ... can we get naked now?"

B u y a g r a
Injectable stimulant taken prior to shopping.
Increases potency and duration of spending spree.

Extra Strength Buy-One-all
When combined with Buyagra, can cause an
indiscriminate buying frenzy so severe the victim may even come home with a Donnie Osmond CD or a book by Dr. Laura.

J a c k A s s p i r i n
Relieves headache caused by a man who can't remember your birthday, anniversary or phone number.

A n t i-t a l k s i d e n t
A spray carried in a purse or wallet to be used on anyone too eager to share their life stories with total strangers.

S e x c e d r i n
More effective than Excedrin in treating the, "Not now, dear, I have a headache," syndrome.

R a g a m e t
When administered to a husband, provides the same irritation as ragging on him all weekend, saving the wife the time and trouble of doing it herself.

A n t i b o y o t i c s
When administered to teenage girls, is highly
effective in improving grades, freeing up phone lines, and reducing money spent on make-up.


Victorians Valerie and Trevor Williams are the Everest climbers of the misery-gutted.
After years of sending friends anti-Christmas cards, one of which featured a homeless Santa and another battered child angels, the couple decided to "go big" this year.
The result can be seen on a billboard looming over the Pat Bay Highway near Victoria, where commuters, rushing no doubt to buy gifts, are faced with this stark message: "Gluttony. Envy. Insincerity. Greed. Enjoy Your Christmas."
Mrs. Williams, a 33-year-old Women's Studies student at the University of Victoria, and her husband, a 37-year-old aeronautical engineer, are on a campaign against what they see as the rampant consumerism and religious exclusivity of Christmas.

Via Kathy Shaidle who comments savagely.

Oh, and the Williams' come from that other Victoria. No doubt our Santa banners will rush to emulate.


Someone signing as Phil A (Couldn't be, could it? Nah, he's not going to pay weekend penalty rates to get an underling to type his crap) has lumped your blogster in with some illustrious company in a comment to a Tim Dunlop post. Trouble is he's compared us -- including the ever-fair Ken Parish -- with some very repugnant types. Here's Phil A' spiel:
These professional hate-mongering ozblogging hypocrites (insert names here . . . Tim Blair, Bitchin’ Monaro, Paul Wright, Prof “@Salusinszky@” Bunyip , Bruce Hill, Jason Marrow Gareth Parker, Scott Wickstein, Whacking day, Alan Anderson, Mathew Bates, Bernard Slattery and “Bovination”, with some self-righteous ‘intellectual support’ from the Catallaxy collective and Ken “legal eagle” Parish) are among those hard-working practitioners of new racism, some calls it “cultural racism” – my way of life/culture is holier-than-thou” - who are in fact intellectually equivalent of those “uncivilised non-westerners” whom they despise the most. In short they are the Aussie-version of Abu Bakr Bashir of the ozblogosphere
(Oh ... my apologies :-) since they loath everything except contemporary political Americana, I will give them the title of @Jerry Falwells of ozblogosphere@).

Methinks he needs a good whacking.


ANDREA HARRIS has deftly fisked a 54-year-old fool who longs for a communist utopia. Her blow-torch job has prompted a wave of sharp, admiring pith, including this must-file:
Best thing about being a socialist is that you never have to grow up. It's the Peter Pandemic of the left.