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Petrol Price Rise Rage Reality.

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 24, 2008 by Buck Frain

Petrol prices are going up. It’s not fuckin’ news. It’s been in the news constantly for the last fuck-knows-how-many years but recently it’s started to really fuck me off. People are up in arms over he rising fuel prices and I understand, I even empathise with them to a point. Certainly, rural Australians and people reliant on petrol for their occupations are really under pressure and the harsh truth is it is not going to get any better. I feel for these people but it is reality. 

The people I don’t feel sorry for are the fucking idiots blaming the government for rising prices. What the nail-gunned ballbags are they thinking? Yes, the government are greedy cunts, they control the various taxes they charge on fuel, but beyond that they have nothing to do with it.

 

I found this little gem today from the UK and was relieved to find that they’re even more stupid than us: 

Two-thirds of motorists said they would vote for a different government if fuel rose to between £1.25 and £1.49 per litre and 63% said they would be willing to protest if the price of petrol and diesel rose to levels they considered unacceptable. 

 

What the grated dick are you fuckheads thinking? It’s supply and demand, the demand’s up and the supply is rapidly going down forever. Protest all the fuck you want, vote for a fucking hedgehog, it’s not going to make more dead dinosaurs! The fact is we’ve nearly burnt them all, we’ve burnt up the dead dinosaurs and the few drips that are left are going to continue to get more and more expensive until some massively rich CUNT goes for the world’s last petrol drag and that will be the end of it, which of course it won’t be because sooner or later, if the polluted environment or global war doesn’t kill us first, we’ll develop sustainable, renewable energy sources and means of transport that run on them.

 

The world is changing, we’re running out of oil, all of us in every single country on the planet, now SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FUCKIN’ WELL DEAL WITH IT!!! The fucking childish mentality of consumers makes me so fucking angry, what the fuck did you think was going to happen you mindless fucksticks? DEAL WITH IT! Especially if you live in the UK – no reasonable person would choose to live in a place with such abominable weather and the miserable island’s small enough you can get your pasty arse on a pushbike and peddle to fucking work!  

 

 

http://humor-blogs.com/

 

Afterthought: The CEO of Caltex came out and said people should use less fuel. Doesn’t that indicate something? I mean, what sort of CEO asks you to buy less of his product? People, fuckin’ stupid people, bah!

How To Lose Friends & Gross The Fuck Out Of People.

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 12, 2008 by Buck Frain

Am I just old? Am I repressed? Am I a prude? I wouldn’t have thought so, but I have been forced to reconsider. Like most people in the world who aren’t being starved to death by western capitalism, I have a Facebook page, and surprising as it may seem, I have friends. Well…I have people who have added me as “friends” and that’s really what it’s all about – the appearance of popularity.

The problem I’ve always found with social groups of any sort is there are people who are your friends, and then there are people who you’re just supposed to accept because they have some space-time connection to the group. They don’t necessarily fit, and they may give everyone the right royal shits but for some reason no-one has the heart to fuck them off. Note well: If your social group doesn’t have a crap friend like this, have a good think because that crap friend may just be you.

Normally groups find ways of containing the unpleasant or embarrassing behaviour of crap friends Shutup Shon! Don’t worry, he’s OK, he’s just a bit of a tool.  But Facebook removes that ability to contain. It allows crap friends free reign to publish their inappropriateness to your whole social network. It allows the crapness to spew forth like a geyser of well…look up tubgirl if you really want to know. Actually, don’t.

I’ll get to the point. I logged into my profile for the first time in a couple of weeks and was shocked to find one of my brother’s crap friends had sent me a big picture of goatse. I wasn’t familiar with goatse and for those of you who also haven’t experienced it, in the name of taming it down, here’s a jack-a-lantern depiction of it.

Let me tell you, I’m not easily unsettled but goatse is fucking gross. But that wasn’t really what shat me. What really fucked me off was that for a week my real friends had been confronted with a hideous goatse on my page that had not been removed…for a week, therefore lending credence to the notion that I found it funny or acceptable or that it was in some sense my taste. I mean, fuck! People I work with, people I respect are checking my profile and one lowbrow fucker I added out of guilt is fucking my relationships up because he has no sense of the appropriate and has no internal censor. Inappropriate shit should be at least contained to personal emails, not broadcast to everyone you know.

So, before I have my entire social life undermined by one sick bastard, I’m getting honest. I’m doing some Facebook pruning and I urge you to do the same. Anyone who offends me or who I don’t genuinely like is going. That’s it, you’re out, get fucked! If you’re more of a liability than an asset, fuck off! It sounds mercenary, nasty and intolerant but I don’t give a fuck. If I embarrass myself that’s one thing, I’ll even cope with friends embarrassing me, but when some random shitstick vandalises my social page with grotesque fetishist wankery it’s time to cut the ties. NO MORE FACEBOOK GUILT FRIENDS!!! Fuck you, crap friends!

Paw Paw Pocket Protection.

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 11, 2008 by Buck Frain

 So Nick D’arcy has been banned from the Beijing  Olympic Games once again. Thank fuck for that! The little fucker’s lucky his dad’s a fucking plastic surgeon or he wouldn’t be able to afford all the lawyers, and he’s appealing again. What do the poor violent athletes do? How do they cope? 

My joy at justice actually working was short-lived, however. I had a $2 bet with a co-worker that D’Arcy would be allowed to go. I was glad to lose the bet but I reached into my left trouser pocket where I keep my keys and coins and pulled out a handful of Oh fucking hell! Horror. Both mine and hers as I proffered a fist full of keys and coins clumped together thick with the lip-balm that had evidently suffered a packaging failure in the same pocket. Our eyes met and for a fraction of a second I think she actually believed I was being premeditatedly weird. I exited stage left to the bathroom with all appropriate haste and stealth. Please, don’t let The Wobblers see me with a fist full of lubricated keys!

 

In the bathroom I started using paper towel to soak up, wipe away the lip balm. Fuck! There was so much of it. One little tube of Lucas’ Paw Paw goes a fuck of a long way. After scraping all the excess grease of my hands, keys and change I had to wash them with soap to remove the rest of it. I recommend Lucas’ Paw Paw Ointment for its staying power. Three or four washes got them more or less clean, the keys still feel a little more moisturised than keys should. I looked in the mirror. Cunt, bollocks and shit! The pocket! I remembered I still had a pocket full of warm grease. I remembered it because I saw that it had fucking soaked through to make a vaguely cummy-looking grease stain on the front of my pants. I turned the pocket inside out and scraped as much lip balm as I could out of the fabric. The greasy stain I was stuck with. I couldn’t risk getting busted washing and drying my pants in the bathroom, not at work.

 

I returned to the phone room. I paid my debt with the cleanest coins seen outside the mint and went back to work. I’ve spent the rest of the day trying not to notice the faces of people as they notice my stain. Fuckin’ dirty pants-starers! Looks of disdain and disgust, I’m sure tales of my depravity and perversion will fill my foul workplace for months to come. IT’S NOT CUM, YOU FILTHY-MINDED BASTARDS!!! IT’S ON THE LEFT, HOW WOULD I CUM IN MY OWN POCKET??? IT’S LIP-BALM!!! IT FUCKIN’ BROKE OPEN IN MY CUNTING POCKET! YES, IT’S GROSS! I SHITTING WELL HATE IT TOO!!!

 

I should make clear this is not a sledge on a product and that I will continue to use the same lip-balm, it’s good. The truly fucking horrible  thought is that I might have to invest in a man bag to avert future such misadventures. A cunting man bag – ah, I might as well just cut off my own balls! It’s all cunts! I think I’m getting sick. I hate my life.