Archive for the Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt Category

A Vote For Abbott Is A Vote For Al-Qaeda.

Posted in Boof-head Sporto Fuckwits, Rage Against The Machine, Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 19, 2010 by Buck Frain

It’s a big call but I’ve had a gut-full! The federal election this Saturday is vital to the future of Australia. I survived the Howard years when the ironically-named Liberal Party stomped all over public opinion and consistently fucked the little guy in order to pump up the wealthy. I watched while the majority of Australians voted them in time and time again against their own interests. I still don’t know how and I still don’t know why. I can’t go back there. I FUCKING WON’T!

I’ve heard the parrot calls of RAWK! Think of the economy. RAWK! Usually coming from ill-informed cretins who don’t realise their thoughts aren’t in any way their own and that actually they’ve got big business’ hands up their arses.

I have absolutely no faith in democracy in this country because it seems to me that the majority of Australians are complacent, apathetic, ignorant and mentally lazy. We’ve had it good for so long that we don’t feel like we have a responsibility to educate ourselves to what’s really going on and to have an opinion about it. Although I love Australia dearly I don’t think I have any choice but to take a stand. If the good people of Australia are hell-bent on choosing the interests of a handful of wealthy individuals who care nothing for the environment or the future of Australia or its citizens, over the future of this wonderful country for themselves and their children, then I have to do something.

I have no influence and as has been repeatedly pointed out to me, I have no power. Other than choice. If you vote for the Liberal Party you have no soul. You have no compassion. You have no concern for the environment, or healthcare, or education, women or technology. You have no compassion for the people who flee terrible circumstances in other countries for a better life like the one we enjoy here. I read that at our present rates it would take 20 years for the flow of boat people to fill the MCG. That’s not a lot of people. Especially considering the strength of our economy and the size of our nation. Especially considering that these people want to work and contribute to our country to make us all stronger and richer. Many countries with far less resources do far more for people in trouble. We could do more if only we stopped thinking about how scared WE are and gave a thought for how thankful we should be for all we have and how we might share it with people less fortunate.

The mining companies in this country are grandmotherfucking cuntingly rich bastards and they’re only getting richer and they’re getting it from taking OUR very finite natural resources. I don’t mind anyone making money but Abbott doesn’t think the Australian people deserve a share of this wealth. He won’t tax those rich fat cunts!

If Abbott gets in this Saturday I’m joining Al-Qaeda and fuck you all!

Harsh? Fuck it. What else is left? If a country blessed with so many beautiful, wonderful qualities can choose fear and mean-spiritedness by a majority; if democracy can be rendered meaningless by propaganda that doesn’t even make sense; if people are so stupid that they will vote for a sport-obsessed, misogynist, xenophobic, homophobic, religious fundamentalist with no economic acumen and who is a self-confessed liar and committed to making ordinary citizens carry the bill for the lifestyles of the rich and shameless; I have no choice left but to declare war against such malevolent, wilful stupidity.

I will join Al-Qaeda if Liberal win on Saturday.

So, I don’t care who you vote for. It’s your vote and you should think about what the various parties and candidates represent and vote according to who you think will best serve the nation’s interests and contribute best to the future of Australia. By “think” I actually mean use some critical thinking, use some analytical skills to see what’s behind the P.R. hype, not just decide based on who you felt handled Mark Latham’s handshake best. CUNTS!!! Whatever! I’ve said my piece. Do what you want, but a vote for Abbott is a vote for Al-Qaeda, so don’t complain when you vote that smarmy wank-stain in and I blow your fucking shit up!

Stupid fucking monkeys!

Declaring War On Arse Terrorism

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 31, 2010 by Buck Frain

Pants. They’re great. One leg in each side, pull up, fasten – BOOM – you’re clothed. Girls, you may require something more. But seriously, they are a pretty simple thing, right? I love pants. They cover and protect while allowing freedom of movement, and the many different varieties of colour, fabric, style and design provide something for every taste and occasion. So, how the fuck does it come to pass that not being able to wear them properly should become cool? Why is every gormless nob-end, usually with haircut requiring 3 hours work per day just to keep it looking like a spontaneously gang-raped dog carcass, wearing their pants below their arse cheeks now? WHAT THE FUCK DID I MISS HERE??? When I gave a shit about cool, it had some sort of meaning to it. I didn’t necessarily buy into it but at least I could understand. Not being able to put on a pair of pants is just stupid. It just makes you look like a complete fucktard. I mean, you’re not more attractive with 4 inches of your manky underpants on show to the world.


Aside from the aesthetic repugnance of this devolution of human achievement, wearing pants like this doesn’t make life easier. Movement is restricted and one has to widen one’s stance to the ridiculous in order to keep the pants on, thus undermining one of the many great features of pants, i.e. they automatically stay on until you want to take them off. These cunts walk like they’ve just shat themselves and if they ever had cause to run they’d lose the pants in a second and either have to run holding them up (impractical at best in case you’ve never had to run) or fall face first into the ground. IT’S FUCKING STUPID!!!

I’ve looked into the phenomenon and apparently it all started in the US where African American kids decided they’d get way more respect if they dressed like they were in prison. In prison you’re not allowed to have a belt because you might hang yourself with it or maybe even use it to hurt someone else so it follows that prisoners’ pants don’t fit so well. OK, so I understand the origin. I even get that stupid kids think it’s cool to emulate criminals, however, at least some of the African American kids have the good grace to cover their ill-fitting pants with long t-shirts that cover their arses…and can also, incidentally, be conveniently used to conceal weapons. Sadly, dumbfuck Aussie white kids have once again completely missed any point that might have been there. They twat around in designer clothes their Liberal-voting mum paid for, they never carry guns and they wear short shirts to advertise the fact that their only statement to the world is fail pants. It’s completely fucked. And then to add insult to injury they add a belt to the ensemble. A CUNTING BELT!!! For fuck’s sake, the only purposes belts serve are to keep your pants above your hips or  to put holsters, handcuffs or superhero shit on, which will pull your pants down if you don’t have them on properly.

Having pants that don’t fit says:

  • a) I’m poor
  • b) I’m just out of jail where I did hard time as a large man’s wife and/or
  • c) I’m armed, fuck you!

Having pants that look like they should fit, are assisted by a belt but still sit below your arse cheeks says:

  • a) I’m intellectually disabled and my carer didn’t help me after I went to the toilet
  • b) I’m a mindless follower of a consumer culture I don’t understand and/or
  • c) I’m so unredeemably shit as a person that I like deliberately getting simple things wrong to complicate my pointless existence, you should grab me by my stupid hair and fling me down the nearest flight of stairs or into the path of the nearest oncoming train!

Why does it offend me? What? You mean apart from it being both ugly and stupid? You mean you need more? Well here it is: these miscreants sit on public transport and everywhere else in their underpants. That’s right. Stinky undies right on a seat that I have to share. The pants are so low they don’t get sat on! What, your designer jeans cost so much you don’t want to wear them out by sitting on them?  GET FUCKED!!! Put some cunting clothes on. Do you think you’re so beautiful that strangers want to see your arse or maybe even share its contents? YOUR MUM WAS BEING NICE!!! You’re not cool, you’re not hot, you’re a useless, ugly cunt! For shit’s sake, cover your stinking arse! Your pants are supposed to go there. They’re not just for you, they’re a barrier for everyone else against your e-coli and convict jizz. If you’re not wearing them over your arse there’s no point wearing them at all. It’s what they’re there for – THEY’RE MADE TO COVER YOUR ARSE!!!

Stupid sagging pants fuckhead.

In the end this amounts to nothing less than Arse Terrorism. I believe it’s a campaign of terror by fetishists who like to put their dirty arses on other people’s things and I cannot tolerate it any longer. I urge everyone to take action against these purveyors of ugliness, stupidity and disease. Whenever and wherever you see them with their stupid arses, or strangely often lack-of-arse, hanging out over pants that have been forgotten at half-mast, I urge you all: kick them! Punch them! Throw the remains of your coffee on them! Push them into traffic! Set them on fucking fire!

The only way these arse terrorists will learn to wear pants properly is if it becomes vital for their survival. We have to draw a line, and let’s face it, people with their pants half down can’t fucking chase you so fuck ’em, you get a free shot!

A Valentine’s Day Wish For All.

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 14, 2010 by Buck Frain

Valentine’s Day can go and fuck a dead horse!

What a stupid, nauseatingly saccharine day. I’m not anti-romance, I just don’t get why everyone shits all over themselves for one day a fucking year. GET A GRIP FUCKHEADS, YOU’VE BEEN SOLD!!! If you’re in a relationship you have anniversaries and every day of your life to let the one you love know how special they are to you. You don’t need a generic day unless you’re a shit partner. If you’re single Valentine’s Day either makes you want to kill yourself for being a fat, ugly, stinky, socially dysfunctional, grotesque, sexually inept nebbish and utter failure OR WORSE, it turns you into a fucking desperado who can’t bear his/ser own company and would rather jettison every shred of self-respect, identity and decency in an effort to be a temporary accessory in someone else’s fantasy of their own banal excuse for a life.

Couples are the fucking worst on Valentine’s Day because they get all smug, even if they haven’t fucked for a decade, and rub their single friends’ noses in it talking about how blessed they are and how really Valentine’s Day is just a formality because every day is Valentine’s Day when you’re with your soul mate. I just want to tear their fucking lips off and vomit on their vacant, doe-eyed faces. Just fucking hurry up: breed, die and shut your fucking holes so we can all get on with life, you miserable suburban cock rags! 

It’s a little known fact that the St Valentine’s Day Massacre had nothing to do with mob rivalry and was actually revenge sparked by a nasty incident on 13th February, 1929. Al Capone had just ended a particularly unhappy love affair when he was found eating alone and sobbing into a bowl of spaghetti puttanesca by Frank Gusenberg, four of his mates and their wives. Despite the fact that their boss, Bugs Moran, and Al weren’t the best of mates, they decided to cheer ol’ Scarface up by sitting down with him to recount tales of how they all met their wives, the little cute things they loved about each other, how they all came by their pet names and their secrets for having and maintaining healthy and loving relationships. Al finally got away from them shortly after midnight and immediately boarded a flight to Florida. On his way to the airport he arranged to have the fucking lot of them (wives excluded – things were civilized back then) lined up against a wall and fucking shot first thing in the cunting morning, and so it was! Fucking wholly deserved too, I’m surprised there aren’t St. Valentine’s Day Massacres like that every fucking year. 

If you’re happy this Valentine’s Day, do us both a favour – SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

The Truth About Sex Addiction.

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 31, 2010 by Buck Frain

So, I finally awoke from my annual turkey-induced Christmas coma to find that my dreams had been shattered. Fuck you very much, God, you fictional fuck! Disillusionment will be the constant companion of the idealist and the romantic and the sad fucking truth of 2010 is that, contrary to my last post, Tiger Woods did not escape for an unapologetic, cashed-up, blokey booze cruise. No! Like a pussy-whipped billionaire soft-cock he checked himself into REHAB for his SEX ADDICTION!!! 

All I can say is FUCK YOU TIGER WOODS YOU PISS-WEAK CUNT!!! I’m sorry folks, sex addiction is not real. Santa Claus, Easter Bunny and the The Tooth Fairy might be for all I know but I’ll tell you 100% sex addiction is a crock of bullshit cooked up three groups of people:

  1. Tight-arse-rich-bastards-sans-integrity trying to minimise the damage of an otherwise costly divorce,
  2. No-sex-getting-loser-douche-bags jealous of the amount of sex other people are getting, and:
  3. Right-wing-churchy-extremists who’d rather everyone think of sexuality as a disease and spend their money in church instead of on good times. 

Don’t believe me, you moaning fucks? Well here’s the real deal: 

  1. We are animals! I know what the book of genesis says but just shove that pile of shit up your arse for one second and look at the less self-aggrandising truth for one cunting moment. We. ARE. Animals. Yes, we’ve got some pretty cool tricks we can do but we are just the latest model chimpanzee.
  2. We are governed by the same rules as all other animals. What this means to the uninitiated is that like any other animal (or plant or fungus for that matter), like any other living thing, our sole purpose for being is to reproduce and pass on our genetic material to another generation. Dress it up anyway you want and take it to church on weekends if it makes you feel better but that is really it. Money? Means to an end! Fame? Means to an end! Lots of degress? Nice house in the suburbs? Playing in a rock band? Virtuous lifestyle helping others? All of them means to the same end – reproduction. Most people mistake this primal drive for a way-more-cool-and-non-freedom-threatening desire for sex but this is just humans over-thinking our own biology and fooling ourselves into believing there’s something more sophisticated going on. There isn’t!
  3. You cannot be ADDICTED to your primary function as a being. You might be able to be addicted to, and even cured of addiction to, a wide variety of things, however, you can’t be cured of being what you are except, that is, by death. 

Sex addiction by definition is completely absurd. Men fuck. It’s the only function we were ever specifically designed to perform. Sucktittygrowfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckdie. That’s the male’s life, the rest is just set dressing – yes, girls, it is that simple and any man who tells you there’s more to it is probably trying to fuck you. I acknowledge that the female life is a little more complex and I certainly won’t presume to sum it up in one sentence, especially seeing as I have my own reason for living to try and protect. 

I’m not saying I don’t believe in love and I’m not saying I don’t believe in marriage or society, however, we need to acknowledge that at least the last two of these are artificial, human constructs. They are flawed and fitting our animal selves into their intellectual sterility seamlessly may require a few more millennia of evolution and/or a rethink of the constructs themselves. In the meantime if, like Tiger, David Duchovny, Michael Douglas and a host of rich-liars-who-can’t-keep-their-dicks-out-of-women-they’re-not-married-to, you have problems with fidelity here are your options: accept it and pay the price …or… stop. There’s no need for a fucking intervention, no need for rehab or therapy, it’s pretty fucking easy, it’s totally fucking binary, fuck whoever you want and deal with the consequences or just fuck who you’re supposed to. The whole notion of addiction here is ridiculous. The only purpose this stupid charade serves is to save money in the divorce settlement by pretending you’re some kind of victim. 

Oh, Your Honour, have pity on me. I just can’t stop fucking all these beautiful women…have mercy on me, I’m the victim here…I just have to have the supermodel threeways…I’m cursed! 

Don’t brag in my court, fucko! Pay the lady for the betrayal and humiliation! 

I am disappointed for men that this is happening. It’s just imasculating for us as a gender. Tiger Woods and all his sex-addicted mates need to man-up and admit it. Yep, sorry baby, I been doin’ a fuckload of fucking. You wanna forgive me in the hope I’ll change  or…would you like to take the cash?

Sure they’d lose a bit of money but they can fucking afford it and what they’re losing in order to save a paltry couple of hundred million dollars is far more precious – manhood. They’re chopping down the proud upstanding cock of their own manhoods in the name of saving money they don’t need. It is so pitifully fucked I’d rather see them euthanased than reduced to such miserable excuses for men! 

If Tiger Woods can’t survive on half a billion dollars and still smile I question whether, despite all the fucking, he really has any balls at all.

On Cutting The Cheese.

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 11, 2009 by Buck Frain

No, this is not about farts.

Mainland_Cracker_Cuts

I love innovation, I really do, but there has to be a fucking limit. Mainland Cracker Cuts. What the shit-spread toast is wrong with people? Little packets of pre-cut, cracker-sized squares of cheese. WHAT THE FUCK??? I realise cheese slices are not new and while I find them somewhat degrading to cheese I accept that jaded mums with too many lunches to pack in the morning, sandwich bars and burger joints can’t survive without them. It’s not usually even real cheese but I’ll accept that there is a need of sorts for that product even if really it’s only laziness disguised as a need. Likewise, pre-grated cheese I can see serves a purpose – you’re making pizzas, last thing you want is to spend an hour grating your knuckles into the cheese. I can cope with that. 

But Mainland Cracker Cuts are a different matter. This is not a product aimed at someone frantically churning out sandwiches or making pizzas as fast as they can. This is a product for some gormless middle class cunt who just can’t be fucked cutting cheese for his cracker to accompany the bottle of Shiraz he knocks back after dinner. There’s no pressure, there’s no rush – it’s cracker time, for fuck’s sake! WHAT SORT OF ABOMINABLE SHIT-SACK CAN’T BE ARSED CUTTING HIS OWN FUCKING CHEESE??? GET YOUR BUTLER TO DO IT YOU DIRTY FUCKER!!! It’s no more work to cut a slice of cheese than it is to unseal the re-closable packet and pull the pre-cut slice out. Even without putting down the glass of red you can manage to cut cheese, assemble it onto a cracker and put it in your mouth. HOW FUCKING LAZY ARE YOU??? WHAT, ARE YOU IN PRISON? DON’T THEY LET YOU HAVE KNIVES??? WHAT SORT OF PRISON LETS YOU EAT CHEESE AFTER LIGHTS OUT??? 

Now just to get things straight, I’m a big fan of Mainland cheeses. They make some pretty bloody good cheeses and I am a regular buyer of their Colby, Tasty and Vintage to name but three. So this has nothing to do with me having a problem with the company, however, the cretinous, pony-tailed marketing ballbag who came up with this idea should be fucking horse-whipped, castrated with a rusty cheese knife and choked to death with his own balls. Mainland Cracker Cuts are an insult to a species with opposable thumbs and tool-making abilities. We’ve been using knives for 2.5 million years. They are a mark of our humanity. If you can’t be bothered using a knife to cut your cheese then I say get the fuck back to the jungle and eat berries, you fucking chimp! YOU DON’T DESERVE CHEESE!!! 

If I ever visit someone’s house and find they have these shitting Cracker Cuts in their fridge I’ll just fucking snap the carrot and kill them. I’M FUCKING SERIOUS!!! Even if they are a friend, even if I love them, it’s a sure sign that they’ve lost the fucking plot and the only reasonable response to it is pure, undiluted murderous rage. IF YOU WANT CHEESE ON A CRACKER, CUT IT YOUR CUNTING SELF!!!

Friends Don’t Let Friends Wear Crocs.

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 20, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

There are lines that cannot be crossed. There are circumstances that require definitive action, that demand you take a stand in the name of all you hold dear. I had to take that stand this weekend. A dear, long-time school friend visited Melbourne. We rarely catch up and I was excited, we went out for beer as is our wont. He turned up in Crocs.

 

I ordered a jug of beer. I poured, we cheersed. Eye contact. Hmm…I looked at his feet again. Pale blue plastic special shoes. I couldn’t let it go.

What the fuck are they?

 

He laughed.

You like ‘em?

No. Seriously, are they yours?

Maybe he’s borrowed them. Maybe someone stole his real shoes…

Yeah. They’re really comfortable.

Cunt! What have you done with Harry? Who the fuck are you?

 

They are the fuckedest footwear in the history of the world, I would rather have my legs cut off than wear them. They’re cuntfully ugly, they are completely anti-fashion, they are everything that is wrong with the world. When The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse come at the end of days they’ll be wearing Crocs, they’ll have shit-eating grins plastered all over their skeletal faces and they’ll be saying things like: They’re really comfortable, party’s over folks!

 

This is the line. This far and no further. But, I didn’t stand up. I didn’t have the heart. Sometimes you just have to walk away. I had a polite but short evening with Harry. The beer just didn’t taste right. I didn’t bother berating him on the Crocs, there was no point, he’s one of them now. I just left and deleted his number from my mobile phone. Harry is not my friend anymore. He can’t be because he wears Crocs. Anything I may once have loved in that man, every part of our friendship, died the moment he put on those aesthetically abhorrent pieces of shit.

 

Why do I hate Crocs, you ask? They are not real shoes. It’s that simple. They are toys. Real shoes come in many shapes, sizes and colours but they all have something in common. You can’t have a shit in them and just hose it out. I mean, you can, but there will be evidence of it. There will be something, even microscopic that would to the trained eye tell you that the shoes had been shat in. Crocs, no. Shit in them whenever you like, it just hoses out. That is NOT right and I can’t engage with anyone who lives in that world so GET FUCKED!!!

 

According to this article, if you’re a Croc wearing fuck-waste, you can highlight the visibility of your lobotomised shitness by decorating your crocs with all manner of colourful banality, flowers, butterflies, cocker spaniels, you name it I’ll stab your fuckin’ eyes out with it because you cast a shadow of hopelessness and arseful fuckedness on my species and I would sooner nuke the whole planet than see this rankness go any further.

 

According to this pile of dog shit, Crocs also are now are the medically endorsed footwear for people with type 2 diabetes. Not so fuckin’ cool now, are they? Yet another reason to despise Crocs.

Hey, are you fat as a house? Is your skeleton crumbling under the weight of your chronic over-indulgence in clown food? Why don’t you squeeze your bloated stumps into some fuckin’ rubbery clown shoes?

 

Crocs – you’re a fat cunt anyway, you can’t see your feet, why should you give a fuck what other people think?

 

Crocs – because suicide requires strength of character!

 

The harsh reality is that we all deteriorate with age. Gradually we lose our edge and become blurry, softened shadows of our former selves. It’ll happen to me one day too, I’m under no illusions, but hopefully there’ll be someone ready to strike me down with a cricket bat and dash my brains out if I ever start wearing Crocs. It’s the same as those hideous middle aged couples who dress in identical non-gender specific beige K-mart outfits, it’s unnecessary and unbearably shit. It shows that you no longer have an individual identity. You’ve fuckin’ lost it! When people lose their grip on reality to this extent it is time to kill them. I’ll miss you, Harry, you were my friend but now you’re just a fuckwit.

Muti-tasking Or Being A Useless Twat?

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 17, 2008 by Buck Frain

Multi-tasking. What the fuck is the modern obsession with doing 50 million things at once? I don’t fucking get it! Yes, life is busy. Yes, the world is moving faster than it did before people had mobile phones, wi-fi internet or the wheel. But, seriously, are you saving time by doing a half-arsed job of a bunch of things? What the cunt are you doing?

 

 

It makes me sick. I’m a singular focus person. I like dedicating myself to a single thing and doing it properly before moving on to the next thing. I’m also a guy and doing more than one thing usually fucks me up. Women seem to be better at multi-tasking and good luck to them. I draw the line at walking while listening to music or watching telly while drinking beer, that’s the limit for me. Whatever! The thing that nauseates me, like a floating turd in my breakfast cereal, is the useless cunts who insist of multi-tasking at the expense of both tasks.

 

 

The attention-deficit FUCKHEADS who try to compose text messages while riding bicycles. These are truly useless people and I want to buy a big car just to run the fuckers over. No clue! No fucking clue where they’re going, what’s around them and I dread to even think about the spelling in their stupid messages. They cunt along at walking pace all over the road like they’re just screaming to the world: KILL ME NOW!!! Oh no, I better answer the message now or my pathetic social life will crumble. Ooh, no but I’d better not stop pedaling or time will stop and I’ll miss my vegan-sexual-philosophy tutorial. DIE!!!

 

 

DECIDE!!! Text OR ride! Not both! You’re not saving time. If you stop, type and send your message, then start riding again, you’ll be riding faster and you won’t give everyone around you the steaming shits by forcing the guilt of manslaughter on them, and the person who gets the message may even understand it. What the fuck is the point in fucking up both tasks? It fills me with boundless fury. They don’t deserve the oxygen they’re wasting on their atrophied brains. They should be legally designated outlets for public indignation and repressed rage. I want to snatch your stupid phone out of your hand and smash it on the road, and when you come back around to ask me in your neo-hippy-passive-aggressive way what my problem is, I want to swipe you off your bike with my cricket bat and smash your chinless body into a greasy paste in the bike lane!

 

 

Multi-tasking is bullshit, except when done by girls…sometimes, and only because they can make it work. Note the word can, they can make it work, and if they do – fine. Anyone who can’t should abstain from it and just learn to fucking well PRIORITISE!!!

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