Archive for the Wankers In Denial Category

No, stupid bogan, you don’t own an American car!

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 20, 2010 by Buck Frain

Sometimes I just want to shoot people in the face. There are those people who I honestly think can only be helped by having the addled contents of their craniums aired out and spread over a 10 metre radius.

The Holden Commodore has been one of the most popular Australian made sedans of the last 30 years. In fact it is so popular in Australia that it has oft been referred to as the Holden Clitoris due to the fact that every cunt’s got one! 

I appreciate the need to stand out from the crowd but over the last couple of years there has been a growing phenomenon amongst the cashed-up-brainless-fuck-knuckle set of taking the Holden badges off their Commodores and replacing them with Chevrolet badges. 

The motivation for doing this is hazy at best but is generally perceived to be a moronic attempt to make an extremely unimaginative choice of motor vehicle appear a little more exotic.

  1. It doesn’t work.
  2. It’s fucking bullshit! 

What the fuck are they thinking? Well, it’s questionable whether they’re actually capable of anything as complex as thought or whether this action is just a stimulus-response anomaly. My view? IDIOTS!!! Everyone in Australia knows that the Commodore is an Australian car so the Chevy badges aren’t fooling anyone! Do you seriously think that your Commodore-owning mates will turn around and exclaim: 

Ohmafahkingooooood! Davo’s got a Chevy! Fahkinellmaaate!

No. Sadly, your arse-clown-deadshit mates know that it’s just a Holden with Chev badges. Even your fucking Horizon-smoking mum knows. So, if even the stupidest people aren’t fooled, what is the point? 

Is it part of the great Aussie cultural cringe? That idea that anything we are, have or do would be way better if it was English or American or otherwise internationally approved of so we knew it was OK to like? Is it just a national self-loathing? Oh mate, I’d be way cooler if I was American! Forgetting of course that even if they really were American they’d just be an American fuckwit which I imagine isn’t that much cooler than being an Australian fuckwit. 

It’s fucking stupid is what it is and I fucking hate stupid! It fucking shits me off that someone would go to the trouble of deliberately buying a vehicle to then spend extra money pretending it’s something else. WHY??? Why not just buy a fucking car you want? Why not sit for a moment THINKING THROUGH, or cunt-forbid RESEARCHING, the multitudinous options available in the world of motor vehicles before you purchase the same thing everybody else has and decide it’s not good enough? CRETINS!!!

I realise that re-badging vehicles is no new thing in the auto industry. Holdens were re-badged as Pontiacs in the U.S. and Vauxhalls in the U.K., Holden themselves have sold re-badged Isuzus, Toyotas, Opels, you name it, as Holdens. That’s just selling cars. It’s just marketing. I know that Holden is part of General Motors, a U.S. company, and for years the Holden Commodore has been re-badged and sold as the Chevrolet Lumina overseas but that doesn’t change the fact that under the badge it’s still a Holden Commodore. The real question is: why, in Australia, a country full of Holden Commodores, where everyone knows your Commodore is a locally designed and made Holden, would you spend good money putting on foreign badges that fool no-one? You’d have more luck passing yourself off as a woman by tucking your dick and balls back between your legs! Stop being a  fucktard! Go right ahead and customize your vehicle if you want to just stop being ashamed of its true identity. Stop being ashamed of supporting your local car industry!

But Chevs are cool, man! 

Fucking buy one then! IT’S NOT A CUNTING CHEVROLET!!! 

It may be worth noting that it is common for Holden owners in the U.S. to re-badge them with the original Holden badges. Why do they do it? Out of respect because that’s what the car is! I swear, if you’re one of those slutheads who’s re-badged their Holden as a Chev, you should take it out on a deserted bit of highway, wind it up to 200km/h and wrap it around the biggest gum tree you can find. As much as I like the new Commodores, the human race does not need YOU!

Old People Are Rubbish.

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 7, 2009 by Buck Frain

RENTON:   Right. So we all get old and then we can’t hack it any more. Is that it?

SICK BOY:   Yeah.

 

RENTON:   That’s your theory?

 

SICK BOY:   Yeah, beautifully fucking illustrated.

 

RENTON:   Give me the gun. 

 

Old people fuck me off, I’m not going to lie about it. They just give me the fucking shits. I mean, I completely understand that I’m headed that way, as we all are. I’ll get old, I’ll lose my shit and I’ll die. Inevitable…unless I get killed while I still have my faculties – which, considering how many people I seem to piss off, is a real possibility. I know there are a load of things that old people are great for – stealing prescription drugs from, telling really long, pointless anecdotes badly, smelling weird – but generally, old people are rubbish and nowhere is this more apparent than on the road.

 

Twice today I’ve nearly been killed by stupid old wankers in cars. The first was a senile old bint who was so shrunken she could barely see between the steering wheel and the dash. Long after the light had turned red and people filed onto the pedestrian crossing this daft old crone pilots her ancient Peugeot through the intersection. I was over half-way across the road so she’d had plenty of chance to work out the light was red. Two people ahead of me leapt forward to get out of the way, I had to jump back wards to avoid being hit. As I went back I slapped the roof of the car as it went past. Eventually she reacted, screeching to a halt, gazing around, wide-eyed, spasmodically gaping and pouting like a fish drowning in air and blinking furiously behind coke-bottle glasses.

 

THE LIGHT’S FUCKING RED!!!, I screamed.

 

She continued pathetically to fish-mouth at the world and blink, I made my way to the imagined safety of the footpath. The lights changed. She stayed there. The cars behind her started to blast horns at her to move her decrepit arse out of the shitting way. This spooked her even more and I was starting to wonder whether she was having some kind of stroke when finally synapses must have fired and with a cliché grind of gears, the old beast lumbered into motion and lurched unsteadily across the intersection before limping on up the road. God help the poor fuckers up there.

 stupid_old_driver

Deciding I needed to take a breather from the world I ordered a coffee at a nearby café and sat at one of their outdoor tables on the footpath where I could watch the world go by…or so I thought. A geriatric fuckstick in a late 70s BMW dropped in on me. Literally. He reverse parallel parked his way into my table. Slowly. Meticulously. He reversed until the back wheel of the BMW mounted the curb. Then he continued…into the steel barriers the café had erected next to their tables. Neither the sensation nor the noise of the collision registered. I stepped away from the table and yelled an indignant Hey! as he continued back pushing barrier into chair into table and scraping Jesus out of the side of what had looked to have been a pristine automotive specimen. Still no reaction from Jurassic Heidfeld. Satisfied, he applied the handbrake, turned the car off and got out. He wouldn’t have looked back except that I finally broke his fog with a hearty:

 

HEY! Nice parking, mate!

 

Whaaat?, He enquired.

 

I said NICE PARKING!!! What are you doing? You just parked in my fucking coffee!

 

Again just the vulnerable, vacant stare of second childishness.

 

Look! Look at this. You could have killed someone. Look! Are you blind? You’re on the footpath, you smashed into all this stuff! Didn’t you hear it???

 

Slowly he came around and saw the remains of a bent chair trapped between barrier and a now-mashed-but-sturdily-bolted-down table. He studied the side of his car and the damage. Eventually looking up he asked:

 

Are you alright?

 

Yes, I’m fine, but fuck dude, maybe you shouldn’t be driving! You could have killed someone.

 

Oh…(long pause while he gave the impression of considering all this new information)…sorry.

 

And that was it. He just shambled off across the street to do whatever crazy old man shit he had to do. I was amazed. WHAT THE SHIT??? The café manager came out, he was righteously fucked off at his bent table and chair arrangement. I explained what had happened, left my details with him if the police or insurance needed a statement and left him to it.

 

Why the backed-up-colostomy-bag don’t old people just admit it? I mean, they must fucking realise that their reflexes are shot to shit, that their peripheral vision is virtually non-existent and that their brains have scaled back all sensory input to a bare minimum despite the world carrying on just as it always has. Surely they must realise they’ve fucking lost it! I guess like the rest of the species they’re just in denial about their own shitness. I suppose it makes sense, why start facing up to it after the fun bits have gone and you’re back to shitting your pants, eating dog food and begging for attention.

 

The only responsible solution for society is that we take their fucking licences away so they can’t destroy the lives of people who still have something to live for. Fucking test their reflexes, test their vision and hearing. Every fucking year! and as soon as they start to lose their shit cut the shitting licence up. Fuck them. Let the old fuckers walk home, or catch the bus or buy a fucking zimmer frame. Anything so long as they’re not running over people who’ve still got some miles on the clock. SELFISH OLD SHIT-SACKS!!!

 

You think I’m being ageist? Fuck you! I’ll take the fucking test. I don’t fucking care. Make everyone take it. I’m happy for anyone who’s a useless fucktard to be taken off the road. I’m happy for us to start euthanasing the pathologically useless en masse. I mean, tolerance is great but I don’t want to get killed by it! FUCKIN’ WAKE UP, HUMANITY, IT’S NOT LIKE WE’RE SHORT OF PEOPLE ON THIS ROCK!!!

Confidence – if your singing career’s gone to crap, just get your tits out!

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 11, 2008 by Buck Frain

What the fuck’s going on in the world? I thought I had a fair handle on it all, the 80’s were over and even The Church Of Scientology was failing to help Kate Ceberano from fading into obscurity where she belongs. All of a sudden everywhere I turn, on bus shelters and the appropriately-obsolete phone boxes there she is: moose-jawed, proud-as-punch, showing off her tits.

Those who know me will understand how out-of-character it is for me to complain about tits on display – I’m a big fan of breasts. I guess, I just don’t really need Kate’s. Again, I’m glad she’s not singing and before everyone goes mental – yes, I do applaud the use of models with real bodies as opposed to the photoshopped, surgically-enhanced skeletons who resemble pre-pubescent boys that we’re usually bombarded with.

What I don’t like is the Ceberano. Considering all the impoverished but talented, hard-working musicians out there, Kate Ceberano has made a killing out of being complete bollocks. It’s an insult, it’s a travesty, it gives me the CUNT!!! And then to top it all off, when she should have crawled off to die quietly in a corner somewhere, when even the deaf wankers who liked her have forgotten her and jumped on the Andrea Bocelli band-wagon, she turns up again as wank-fodder for the homeless. I’m fucked if I understand this move, the campaign is just so crass.

Is it just denial? Is she so out of touch she feels that a flash of the norks is a way back into the ears of Australia? Is it just another piece of couch-jumping-maniacally-optimistic craziness? Hey, yeah – bugger integrity, let’s just plumb the depths of desperation and do a dodgy lingerie campaign: sex sells records, Kate, and fuck knows you’ve never had anything to offer as an artist, this may be the career defibrillation you need – get ’em out!!! Kate Ceberano gives me roaring-vindaloo shits and I wish she would just put them away and fuck the fucking-fuck off!

You Wouldn’t Steal A Car – Rip & Burnout!

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 6, 2008 by Buck Frain

DVD copyright warnings. What the cat-fisting Jesus is with all the warnings? I mean, I go to the shop and buy a DVD. I fucking well BUY it! I take it home and before I’m allowed to watch the fucking thing that I own for fuck’s sake I have to sit through a warning about what will happen if I steal, copy or profit from its piracy. I fucking own it and I have to put up with this accusatory bullshit before I can watch what I legally own! It’s not even like the good old VHS days when you could fast forward through all the shit to get to the good stuff, you have to watch it. And not just once! When you’ve got through one warning you then get a lame-arsed commercial to crappy warning music with fast edits flashing slogans telling you: You wouldn’t steal a car! You wouldn’t steal a handbag! and a whole bunch of other shit so Don’t steal movies! and Movie piracy is stealing! and blah blah shit shit shit. WHAT THE FUCK??? I CUNTING WELL OWN IT, YOU DRIBBLING, SYPHILLITIC NOB-ENDS!!! Even if I didn’t own it, even if I’d just rented it from the fucking video store, isn’t it a bit presumptuous to assume I’m going to want to steal it before I’ve even watched the cunting thing? For fuck’s sake, what if it sucks? Why the fuck would I steal a turd?

 

Having bought Season 3 of The Mighty Boosh and put it in my player, part-way through the multiple warnings I’ll have to watch every time I want to view the DVD, I got so fucked off I just stood up and stomped my coffee table to pieces Eh, master-race IKEA bullshit, I always despised you anyway! took the pieces out into my courtyard, doused them in lighter fluid and incinerated them. I felt a little better and as the flames of triumphant fury warmed my face I started thinking about why the DVD companies should feel the need to have so many warnings cluttering up their shit.

 

Why? Fucking why have multiple warnings about piracy before and after films as well as all over the packaging? DVDs I’ve bought from the USA have FBI warnings on them for shit’s sake! Watch out, bitches, the fuckin’ feds are comin’ to bust yo punk ass!!! It all seems a pretty heavy-handed policy of intimidation but it’s all undone by the commercials with their imploring consumers to do the right thing. To the untrained eye it would appear almost as though they’re trying to prevent something they have absolutely no control over, you know, like when kittens puff all their fur up and walk sideways in an attempt to look frightening. Except, of course, kittens are cute and they don’t prevent you watching movies you’ve paid for with a never-ending stream of pissing and moaning about what they’ll do to you if you avoid their copy-protection systems with easily-available freeware applications and burn exact digital replicas of their product rather than forking out ridiculous amounts of money for an obsolete media format. Well, be realistic, if they did you’d just lock them in the kitchen and sit down and enjoy your movie without them.

 

You wouldn’t steal a car! Well, let’s think about that: If I could steal it by cheaply making an exact replica so I’d have exactly the same car but the owner wouldn’t know I’d done it nor would he lose any benefit of his car and I’d probably never ever get caught for it- fuck it, wouldn’t I steal it? Of course I fucking would! I’d have a yard full of faux-Ferraris, Lamborghinis, you fucking name it, I’d never watch a fucking movie again!

 

If anyone has software for copying furniture please e-mail me, I need to pirate a coffee table, I’ve been spending too much money on DVDs!

Have you GOT faith or do you just WISH you had?

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 27, 2008 by Buck Frain

As an atheist, I find faith a very interesting concept. I like the idea of it in some ways, a tendency towards hope and positivity, a belief, sometimes against logic, that everything will be alright. I think it allows people to achieve wonderful things in the face of terrible adversity and promotes some of the best attributes of humanity.

The sad thing is that so few people today actually have any faith at all.  You don’t have to look too far to see the faithful showing off the flimsiness of their faith. Have a look at any of the blogs that are in any way anti-religious or even those that just satirise or poke fun at religion and you’ll see the faithful going out of their minds. They scream the most incisive vitriol at the blasphemers, they forsake, in text, every value they have sworn to uphold, simply because someone else either doesn’t value their faith or holds an opposing view. That, to me, indicates that maybe they don’t really have any faith whatsoever, they just want to have it. Fearful people alone in the universe, like children afraid of the dark. Remember kids, all anger is a product of fear – take it from me, I should know. Surely if you have solid faith in an omnipotent God, you’re not foolish enough to think that God needs your dumb arse sticking up for Him. Can’t an all-powerful being stick up for Himself? More importantly, how strong is your faith in this God, if at the first sign of ridicule or difference you toss all his commandments away and start behaving like a terrorist? My God’s bigger than your God!

From the ancient Greeks through to fundamentalists of all denominations today, the faithful seem hell bent on endowing their deities with very human frailties. I thought the whole point of religion was to believe in something greater than humanity, a superior intelligence, a supreme being, something that transcends our shortcomings here and now and leads towards a better future by encouraging us to surpass our baser natures. So how the millions-of-mindless-shitheads do you explain the violent actions of the faithful all around the world today? Most people just don’t think it through, in fact most people don’t think at all. The vast majority of the faithful use faith as an excuse to not use their brain. Woohoo, I’ve got Jesus, there’s no need to question anything ever again! Fuck you! Faith doesn’t absolve you of the need to think. If there is one thing we can be certain of looking at history, it’s that religion has repeatedly been used by evil men to control the stupid. But maybe there’s a few people who enjoy that. Maybe there are people who love having a religious loophole that allows them to hate and murder with impunity. If so, it doesn’t appear very Godly from the outside.

The photograph at the top of this post my inspiration today. It’s a photograph by Andres Serrano of a small plastic crucifix submerged in the artist’s urine and entitled Piss Christ. A copy of it was torn up in the U.S. Senate by an outraged politician and when it was displayed in Melbourne some young chump smashed its display and an angry mob tried to have the exhibition shut down. The brainless faithful missed the point and resorted to hatred and violence rather than trying to understand or appreciate a beautiful image. Makes me think if Jesus did bother to come back, it would probably be his own faithful who would kill him this time, not just hired Roman goons.

You’re fuckin’ BALD, bitch!

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 23, 2008 by Buck Frain

For fuck’s sake, if you’re bald, DEAL WITH IT! There is nothing more pathetic than a man with fake hair. Except maybe a man with a comb-over, but that’s a really tight call. Hairpieces and comb-overs are stupid. Really, really stupid and rather than making people feel better about themselves they really just serve to fuel fear and insecurity because even if you’ve got the best wig or comb-job in the world and everyone does a really good job to pretend they don’t notice it’s fake, you’ve still got to live with the terror of what would happen if they ever did notice. 

You’ve constantly got to have the hair around a rug trimmed to blend in, there’s re-colouring as you age, and the panic attacks caused be high wind, vigorous exercise or water. Do you really think that hot girl’s gonna go out with you a second time after tearing your toupee off in the throes of passion? Shit, man, you’ll be lucky if she stays to finish the job. My bet is she’ll scream loud enough your neighbours will call the cops and then she’ll leg it naked down the street, you fucking freak! Of course she may just laugh her arse off, rug in hand, you with tape on your scalp and a hard-on – that mood’s killed.

Don’t kid yourself that transplant technology is gonna save you either, cue ball. Even if the grafts take, your real hair still falls out around them so eventually you look like a recovering cancer patient and you can’t ever go back to shaving your head or you’ll reveal the big-arse scar on the back of your skull where they chopped all the graft skin out.

Any way you try to thatch that roof, insecurity is what’s unattractive. Look at the fuckwit in this ad. Hey that’s some pretty lush hair, right? If you look closely I think you’ll see he’s unable to touch it, he goes close but, ooh nah, there’s no running his hands through those thick locks. There’s something in his voice too, you can hear it, it’s like a little inner cry, a teary voice going: Nah, man, I’ve got hair now. You can’t call me baldy anymore ’cause I’ve GOT hair. Yeah! It’s REAL, man! It’s fuckin’ REAL! …is!…SHUT UP!…bastards. He’s not enjoying the confidence, six-pack or not, he’s a scared little bitch. He’s more of a baldy now than he’d be if he had the balls to cut his hair short and admit it. YOU’RE FUCKIN’ BALD, BALDY!!! BALDY, BALDY, BALD, BALD!!!

You’re fuckin’ ORANGE, cockface!

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 22, 2008 by Buck Frain

I’ve been seeing them everywhere today. I don’t know whether it’s the sudden cooler weather that makes them yearn for the illusion of summer, or whether I’ve just been oblivious of late, but they’re back – the orange people. Not the cult, I mean the fake tan fuck-wits.

 

They’re easier to spot than toupees, for fuck’s sake. It’s mostly women but occasionally you see an orange man, usually a metro-gym-junkie. Fake tan! What the dick-cheese-sandwich are you thinking? Are you colour blind? You are bright orange. Your fucking skin is orange. People aren’t naturally orange, of all the many beautiful colours people come in orange is not one. Orange screams fake. It howls at the top of its lungs to everyone with sight: Look at me, I’m a pasty white fuck-waste who’s ridiculously self-conscious about my skin colour and has absolutely no self-awareness whatsoever. I’m shit! Throw rocks at me! STAB ME!! I’M FUCKED!!!

 

I fucking hate it. It’s absurd, and they just act like they just got back from Bali and no-one realises that it’s not real, even when they’re wearing a sleeveless top and the orange has sweated off to reveal white armpits. Orange is a fruit. FUCKING HAVE A LOOK AT YOURSELF!!! It’s just fuckin’ stupid, it looks like orange dirt. Go home, scrub yourself clean, put on some decent boots, kick the living shit out of yourself and repeat 100 times Everyone knows I’m not really orange.