Archive for April, 2008

Tune in for… FUCK ALL!!!

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 30, 2008 by Buck Frain

The TV ‘s been barking at me again, telling me to tune in Friday for: Secrets Revealed. The Bermuda triangle, the pyramids of Giza, the Nazca Lines in Peru – What really happened? Find out, as we use the latest technology to reveal age-old mysteries on Secrets Revealed, Friday on Channel Shit-Fuck! Tune in you illiterate, obese arse-children. Watch an hour of deep voiced speculation accompanied by some crappy CGI and at the end you’ll know…fuck…all.

Figure it out you dumb-fucks – there are no answers! No-one KNOWS what happened. All you get with these shows is another non-committal retelling of the shit theories you’ve heard a million times before. No conclusions because if someone KNEW, we would have heard about it in the news and we certainly wouldn’t be hearing it for the first time in some hard-boiled TV special with a constipated voiceover. It makes me so sick with rage that these TV executive toe-rags still manage to get an audience by doling out the same old shit year after year. It makes me hate my species that we’re so collectively fucked-in-the-head. We are nothing but monkeys, the aliens knew it at Nazca and they were just slagging us off knowing full well it would take thousands of years for us to be able fly so that we could comprehend the insult. Fuckin’ stupid monkeys! How many seasons of The fucking X-Files did you have to watch to realise that whether or not the truth was out there they were never going to tell you because revealing it would do the cunts out of a show? Bet you’re still watching Lost too, aren’t you?

Yes, the TV is lying to you. Just because it’s the only parent you’ve ever known doesn’t mean it loves you. Commercial TV is stealing your time, raping your soul and laughing about it. FUCK! Someone give me one of those nukes that went missing after the USSR went to shit. Humanity is unredeemable. Go for a walk, you stupid fat cunts!

Sometimes They Come Back.

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 29, 2008 by Buck Frain

There are two things I do in the morning, every morning. If either of them are missing the whole day seems to get a bit out of kilter and never quite comes right.

My routine isn’t particularly complex – I have a coffee and a shit. Over time it’s become a deeply ingrained way to start the day. In the beginning, I’d get up, brew a pot of espresso and after a cup I’d need to go to the loo. After a while it got so that the cup of coffee had to be set aside part-way through and resumed after nature had its call. Nowadays, my morning is pure ritual. I put the coffee on the stove and once it heats up so I can smell it, my intestines gurgle and I have to bolt off for what I’ve come to know as Pavlov’s Bog. 

This morning was no different. Put the coffee on, the aroma like Pavlov’s dinner bell sent me off to the toilet. Mission accomplished, I flushed and began washing my hands in preparation of the almost-ready coffee when I realised something was wrong. The water was rising in the bowl, a revolting tide was turning and the brown trout were swimming back upstream. And there was nothing I could do. NOTHING – I was completely helpless! The plumbing had failed and now I was a mere spectator. How could this happen? That modern miracle that protects us from the cruel and filthy biological reality of being an animal had failed me and I was staring in horror at an advancing back-catalogue of my recent meals.

The water edged up to the rim of the bowl and, I realise now, I was still in complete denial, vainly hoping that it would just stop there. I’d have been happy if it stayed there just so long as it didn’t go any further. It did. I let out what I think was probably a very girly scream as the feculant soup and the healthiest of the trout flubbed out onto the tiles. Sheer panic gripped me, the stench was impactfully violent. Brilliant! A dream come true – my own private bio-hazard! My house was a sewer. FUCK YOU, GOD, YOU CUNT! I yelled at the ceiling. The flow had stopped, bowl still full and threatening, but flow stopped. A miracle? Hang on, I’m an atheist. I stared at the devastation, at the pool of shit and piss and old toilet paper sludge over my bathroom floor. Ew, corn! IN MY FUCKING HOUSE! BALLS!!! ARSE!!!

 

After regaining some composure, I hopped the dry spots to the freedom of the rest of the house, shutting the door after me. Alright, I’ll just never use that room again! For half a second it seemed a realistic proposition. I phoned a plumber, then I phoned the obese, giggling bint that is my boss to tell her I’d be late. Oh, ha ha, Buck’s house is filled with shit! HA HA HA HA HA HA! CUNT! WHY DON’T YOU DIE??? Let me wrap up some of these turds in some bread for you and you can EAT MY SHIT!!! 

Fuck I hate my boss, but that’s another story. The plumber came. He didn’t laugh, I found that comforting, mind you I doubt I’d ever laugh again if I was faced with other people’s excrement every day of my life. He fixed the trout farm in my bathroom. It took him most of the day – a tree root from next door’s jacaranda had taken up residence in my sewer blocking it up and forcing the flow of traffic back to the source. Bastard trees, stealing my poo! Fucking stupid water restrictions, forcing trees to eat shit. Fucking stupid drought, forcing us to have water restrictions! Cunting bastard human race, overpopulating the planet and using all the water on golf courses!  FUCK!!! Ah! At least I didn’t have to see my cunting boss today, and at least my house is no longer filled with shit. 

Be grateful for your plumbing and remember when you flush…sometimes they come back. 

Smile – it’s not that bad :)

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 27, 2008 by Buck Frain

I’m not an unhappy person. Despite what you might think of me, I am happy and I enjoy life a fair bit of the time. One problem I do seem to have though, is that I’m not a naturally smiley person. I’m just not like that. I don’t think I walk around looking particularly gloomy but maybe my face doesn’t naturally hang in a smiley place. Maybe random, unjustified glee is just not my normal state. Whatever the reason, it seems to be a bit of a bug-bear for occasional random people. Enough of a problem that total strangers seem to think it’s OK to give me emotional coaching out-of-the-blue. Just for free.

Has this happened to you? You’ll be working, or reading, or doing something that requires your concentration, when some random fuck walks up and says something vacuous like, Hey, smile, it’s not that bad. Not that bad? What the cunt would you know? Or: Oh, cheer up! Who the fuck are these people? What the shit-spread-toast is their problem? Whoa, who died? Smile, man! I wish these smug, shit-sucking bastards would just go and hang themselves. There is nothing guaranteed to shit me off faster than some piece of patronising banal social instruction from a complete fucktard. NOTHING pisses me off quicker than being instructed to display the external signals of an emotion just for someone else’s visual pleasure.

Why should I smile, you cunts? WHY? What are you so cuntingly happy about? Really, I want to know! What is it that has you pissing yourself with joy 24 hours a day? Is it Prozac? Are you on a bi-polar manic high? Or do you just do it to fuck with people? Is it some fucking sadistic fetish because you know how much it gives people the cunt? Fuck you! Fucking DIE!

You know what I think? I think you’re in denial. I think it’s YOU that doesn’t get it. So here’s a dose of reality for you: There is a plague of over 6 billion people on Earth. As a species we are consuming the planet’s resources at an unsustainable rate and poisoning our the environment to a point where it will become uninhabitable by humans within 100 years. We are hurling ourselves towards the apocalypse and our governments are helping make it happen. All the pissy little things you think are reasons-to-be-happy are distractions put there to protect what’s left of society from the anarchy that would reign if everyone woke up to the truth of our impending extintion. Our grandchildren may well be the last generation of  human beings ever, and yet when they ask us what we were doing about it, we’ll have to tell them we were busy smiling and watching The Biggest Loser.

So smile it up all you want. Be cheery, buy a happy meal, go to a laughter-therapy class. I don’t bug you, I don’t point out all the things you should feel shit about, do I? Eh? NO! So fuck off! Leave me be and don’t try to convert me to be a part of your cult of denial. If you choose to interrupt me just to tell me that you want me to smile, I’ll cut your cunting head off and shove it up your stupid arse where you can grin to your heart’s content without annoying me.  Ah, smile, it’s not that bad! No, it’s a fuckload worse, you deranged freak!

Bad Drivers – Give Me A Sign!

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 25, 2008 by Buck Frain

Bad drivers give me the absolute cunt. I love driving and I always have. I’m a good driver – still can’t say that without thinking of Rain Man – and it fucking kills me that so many people are fucking awful drivers.

Ooh, road rage, Buck? Very predictable, you’re the menace to society!

Fuck off, you shit-eating do-gooder! I’ve every right to be angry at bad driving. You’d be fucking angry if some mad person wandered through a shopping mall indiscriminately firing a gun, just randomly, for free. You’d be pissed off as hell, even if she was a really nice person and her husband was a dentist, you’d say Lock that mad bitch up! But, put the same dentist’s wife behind the wheel of, say a Ford Explorer, she’s talking on her phone, doing her make-up and disciplining her children in the back whilst piloting 2 tonnes of steel around at 60km/h and not really watching where she’s going. She won’t indicate because everyone gets out of her way anyway and cyclists are invisible to her. Can’t get angry with her! No way, she’s doing her best, calm down, take a chill pill. Fuck you! She’s murder waiting to happen, she’s the same mad bitch!

I don’t mean to demonise female drivers, it was only an example. Bad drivers come in all types across all demographics. Now I’m fired up, I don’t think I can tackle all of the bad driving thing in one post so today I’ll just focus on one element of bad driving – the misuse of indicators.

You’d imagine it’s pretty fuckin’ simple, wouldn’t you. You’ve got this lever on your steering column that controls lights on the outside of your vehicle that display to other road users your intended path. It’s easy, you did it in your driving test, but after that a bunch of people have forgotten completely. For a tutorial, if you need to brush up, go here. Please.

The most important thing is indicating BEFORE you turn or change lanes. There are so many fucking idiots out there that seem to think that better late than never has some relevance to indicating. They indicate to show you what they’ve already done. WAKE UP YOU USELESS FUCKTARD MEATBAGS! I CAN FUCKING SEE WHERE YOU ARE, YOU CUNT, I WANNA KNOW WHERE YOU’RE GOING SO I CAN STAY OUT OF YOUR CUNTING WAY!!!

Indicate, it’s in the word indicator. Indicate before you move, and if at all possible check mirrors and blind spots to ensure there’s no-one else already occupying the space that you intend to occupy. It’s not rocket science, it’s basic spatial awareness, a lack of which gives me the shits. Same principle as this.

Spatial awareness is knowing where you are in relationship to other objects in your surroundings and how that relationship will change in the near future as you and other objects around you change positions.

Then of course there’s the smart-arse fuckers who are way too important to bother using indicators at all. Why should they? They are the gods of the road, it’s their taxes that payed for the road so they go where-so-ever they please and don’t lower themselves to using the indicator lever. These are the real bastards. These fuckers, these WANKERS! They make me so fucking mad I want to shit my own pants, they weave everywhere braking nonsensically making driving a pure fucking hell. It’s like they want you to run into them. FUCKIN’ OVER-INSURED PRICKS, I’D KILL YOU IF I COULD AFFORD IT!

But you know that killing’s not really going to help. Education is the only answer. One day, it’s my greatest wish, that one day I’ll pull up behind one of these non-indicating arseholes at the lights, having put up with their smug refusal to consider other road users for several kilometres…

I’m calm. Professional. I step from my car, walk up to their driver’s window and tap gently on it, smiling benignly. I’m well-dressed and non-threateningly white, I say: Excuse me, I noticed back there… just low enough that he can’t hear all of what I’m saying as I point back down the road. 9 out of 10 would wind the window down, for sure. Quick as a flash, I reach in and snap his indicator lever from the steering column and brandishing it in his face, I scream into his window: SEEING AS YOU’RE NOT USING THIS, I’LL KEEP IT MY-FUCKING-SELF! IT’S AN INDICATOR, YOU CUNT!!!

I return to my vehicle and watch the offender kangaroo-hop away from the intersection, shell-shocked. I resume my journey with the wind in my hair and the radio blazing. Ha ha, fuckers!

Connex – Making Money From Alienation And Violence

Posted in Rage Against The Machine with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 23, 2008 by Buck Frain

What the cunting Jesus do Connex think they’re playing at? According to this article in The Age last weekend, a group of their Authorised Officers (AO’s) have hospitalised a man who had a valid ticket and concession card because he refused to give them more personal information than he was legally required to. They dragged him out of the train on to a deserted platform and proceeded to beat the shit out of him. When challenged by a concerned resident who heard the victim’s cries, they claimed to be the police and told her to go away.

Stories like this are far too familiar although few of them reach the media. I have a friend who was on a train late at night when four or five burly AO’s confronted a lone teenager and stood over him prodding and threatening when he couldn’t find his concession card. When my friend, the only other person in the carriage, concerned that the young man was being unduly intimidated asked him if he was OK, the officers turned on the defender. They told my friend he was interfering with their work and that they were going to fine him for impeding official business. He tried to explain that he was concerned for a young man who appeared scared. They dragged my friend off the train (yes, he did have a valid ticket and, no, he had not done or said anything inappropriate) at the next station, once again a deserted platform, where one officer punched him in the face and another kneed him in the chest, knocking him to the ground before threatening to do further harm if he got up. My friend stayed down, went home and made no official mention of the incident.

Many incidents don’t get reported because with AO’s working in gangs of 4 or more, they have the strength of numbers. 6 people with uniforms telling the same story against one person with no witnesses. What’s the point in contesting it? The propaganda is pasted all over the trains about what they’re allowed to do and when they choose to extend the boundaries of their powers, what can an ordinary member of the public do?

It would seem these Gestapo-like goons are just part of the great new public transport plan. There’s Metlink’s ongoing publicity against the Fare Evader. What the fuck? Every customer on trains is exposed to this insulting campaign that assumes a level of criminality in everyone. I used to buy tickets all the time but I don’t now because I’m sick to death of being patronised and insulted. Fuck that! Treat me like a criminal and I’ll fucking act like one.

A former Connex employee tells me that even if everyone paid for tickets all the time Connex would still lose money. They pump up the figures of loss due to fare evasion to illicit public sympathy and to justify a policy of mob-like standover tactics. Their real revenue, what gets them over the line is fines! Yes, they rely on people NOT buying tickets because the fines are worth more than ticket sales! Think about it: one fine equals over forty passengers on two-hour full-fare tickets – pretty good way to beef up the day’s takings. They deliberately put a publicity campaign in place that disenfranchises their customers and then further fuck us off by openly treating us like prison-fodder with their thugs threatening, harassing and assaulting anyone who even vaguely steps out of line or questions their actions. Connex don’t provide the service that we’re paying for, trains routinely being either late or early and their frequently cancelling services without notice. They’re unaccountable, untouchable and openly hostile. The natural human reaction is to protest in the easiest way available – not buying a ticket. I mean why not? Fuck them, the multi-national bastards. Connex doesn’t give a fuck about the people of Victoria.

It’s nothing short of robbery. Isn’t Public Transport social infrastructure? Until the government sold it, we paid for it not only with tickets but with taxes, we owned it. It never had to be profitable because it was something we deemed a benefit to society and we wore the cost. The whole PT culture has changed, every tram used to have a conductor. He’d sell you a ticket, tell you where you needed to change or get off, he’d ask undesirables to leave. Everyone bought tickets and without contest because he provided a service as well as being a point of sale. It was civilised and human. It was socially inclusive.

These AO’s are the outward expression of a PT system that is cynical, punitive and criminally violent. They’re complete arseholes. Not smart enough to be cops, not tough enough to be bouncers, they’re like parking inspectors with a license-to-detain. They flock onto already-over-crowded carriages and fuck with people who are already shat that they’re an hour late, and then have to put up with some stink-mouthed fuckhole barking at them to see a ticket they should never have paid for. I can’t wait for the inevitable day when AO’s unwittingly pick on someone with some self-defence knowledge and get the absolute cunt kicked out of them.

One person confronted by six can get away with using quite a lot of force in self-defence, and since we know AO’s routinely abuse their power it is quite reasonable to think that you may be in serious physical danger if surrounded by AO’s, especially if you’re in a deserted environment. So, theoretically, it may be possible to get away with killing one of the bastards even if you got caught. This little piece from the College Of Law at ANU’s website offers a small ray of hope:

Burden of Proof in Action: a case of self defence.

Lets examine how the evidential burden operates through the example of a killing which the defendant claims was done in self-defence. The legal burden rest with the prosecution to prove all the elements of the offence of murder: the killing was intentional, defendant’s act caused the death etc. To allow the jury to consider self-defence, the defendant must adduce some evidence to support that argument: some evidence that the killing was a reasonable response to the act of the victim. The defendant does not have to prove that it was self defence. If there is sufficient evidence for the issue to be considered, the prosecution bears the legal burden to prove that the killing was not in self-defence.

Well, it’s food for thought. I’m not suggesting that anyone should go around hurting other people, please remember that violence is not a solution unless you’re getting paid for it. However, if you know anyone who has bashed a Connex officer, let me know, I need a good laugh. I’m don’t think I’m gonna bash anyone. I wish I could sometimes, but sadly I never learnt the skills – the kicks-to-the-knee, the pressure points. Damn…all that wasted youth. I’m just gonna fire up the PS3, shoot some virtual cunts and dream of freedom. Die you grey-coated fucks!

 

10 People I’d Love To Smash – #10

Posted in 10 People I'd Love To Smash with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 22, 2008 by Buck Frain

#10: Kyle Sandilands


If you took a spiteful, cowardly, metrosexual cane toad and dressed it up with a faux mo and a designer beard you’d have something resembling Kyle Sandilands – Australia’s Littlest Fat-Cunt. Loathing is not nearly a strong enough word to describe the feeling I have towards him. 

When interviewed on Enough Rope last year, speaking of his childhood, he painted himself as a superficial, materialistic child who fantasised about being rich, cut out pictures of crystal vases and put them in a scrap book. Now, that’s just fuckin’ creepy!

Then the traumatic tale of how he’d spent time living on the street after being kicked out of his comfortable middle-class existence by mum and step-dad for throwing a miniature Corey Delaney party when they went away. This, I’m sure, was the bit where we were supposed to see the vulnerable, human Kyle. All I saw was an angry little turd who went off half-cocked at his parents, who were rightly pissed at him, and has used that as justification for all the nastiness he’s felt inclined to inflict on the world ever since. Emotionally, it’s clear he never moved past this incident and is still an angsty, self-absorbed, attention-seeking teenager at heart. Unfortunately for everyone else in the country, instead of doing adolescent stuff like spray-painting “fuck” on a wall, he’s got a national audience and he can carve it into people’s souls with his cruel pranks and insults. 

On radio, he rapes ordinary people’s lives with no regard for the personal, emotional carnage left in his wake, and all in the name of ratings. On Australian Idol he mostly sticks to attacking girls about their physical appearance. I mean, fuck – he doesn’t know anything about music so what else is there to do? He gets paid enormous amounts of money for this, for bullying women. Why? Maybe because that’s what Australians want. I don’t know, maybe we want to see girls being bullied, maybe that’s what our society has come to – misogynist rage. 

Predictably, like all piss-weak, soft-cock, woman beaters, he never takes responsibility for his actions and he can’t take it when he’s the one copping the abuse. I will always love comedian Dave Hughes for calling him a dickhead at the Logies! Kyle snapped the carrot, repeating whenever he got the opportunity how he would punch Hughesy in the throat. Ooh, hard man! In the throat! Tough guy! He even said he was happy to do jail time pay it off, hmm, does little Kylie just want to be a big-man’s bitch? At any rate, Hughesy would kick Kyle’s stupid arse and, you know, I’d pay to see that shit, for sure.

Most recently, Kyle has had a go at TV host/ comedian/ producer/ good bloke/ icon Rove McManus. Not to his face, like a man. Not with any fear of a reply – no, leave nothing to chance, weaklings. After a phone conversation on radio with Rove – The Cane Toad slagged him off after hanging up! GROW SOME BALLS, YOU LITTLE FAT FUCK! 

Kyle Sandilands’ entire career is built upon bullying, lowbrow abuse and exploiting people from his position of power, be it as shock-jock or TV personality. Winner of Who Weekly Most Hated Man, FHM Tosser of the Year, Fugly Awards Worst Male Personality on TV, he isn’t smart, witty or funny, he’s just a sadistic child with a magnifying glass. He is devoid of empathy, he has nasty small hands and I wish I could chop him up and sell him for his blood and organs. 

I would love to smash Kyle Sandilands. Fuck you, Kyle, I hope you’re in therapy and I pray your therapist is convincing you that suicide is a valid option because, for you, IT IS!!!

10 People I’d Love To Smash – #9

Posted in 10 People I'd Love To Smash with tags , , , , , , , , on April 21, 2008 by Buck Frain

#9: Lleyton Hewitt

Little Wanker. I could just leave it at that, it sort of says it all.

Straight out of the reclaimed wasteland of West Lakes SA, Lleyton Hewitt turned professional at 17 and quickly became known as Little Wanker for his on-court antics. Pumping himself up with screams of C’mon! and occasionally C’mon Balboa! in a homage to the Rocky franchise and his trademark vicht salute which he slyly appropriated from Swedish pro Niclas Kroon when the patent lapsed.  Most of the mindless, illiterate bogans who worship him refer to this as doing a Lleyton, if only they realised that it’s really signified opportunistic theft as much as victory. How very convict-chic!

In all fairness, there are very few of us who could honestly say we weren’t wankers at the age of 17, and fame and fortune can’t make that any easier. The real litmus test, however, is that a reasonable proportion of us change. Change is theoretically made easier by the presence of material wealth as it is this that facilitates choice and makes self-improvement more of an easy option. Unfortunately, Lleyton has not yet availed himself of this opportunity. Instead, the juvenile antics continue and his sporting achievements wane and then there’s this:

The former World No. 1 married Bec Cartwright – former soapie star, a girl with no discernable ability or character that might challenge or upstage L-Wank. She’s the cottage cheese of womanhood, bland and uninteresting, non-threatening, low fat and very G-rated. The sort of woman you fuck when you really just want to fuck yourself. Let’s not forget that Lleyton-lookalike Kim Klijsters might have been the girl had she not possessed talent and character. L-Wank and Bec have been cited by conservative tools like number 8 as a portrait of what hetero-sexual-nuclear-families are supposed to be like, and they have been breeding much to the delight of the tabloids and masses of overweight, Channel 9-watching fucktards. They make me want to vomit. It’s like a 1950’s Westinghouse commercial with extra blonde.

Lleyton Hewitt is a little wanker, an arseclown and a fuckstick. Childish, petulant, occasionally racist and homophobic – the little man’s boof-head. I’d love to smash Lleyton Hewitt, in the front bar with a pool cue, old-school, like the little bogan fuckwaste he is.