Archive for Boredom

Christmas In July – Please Make Tony Abbott Die.

Posted in Rage Against The Machine with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 30, 2014 by Buck Frain

Dear Santa,

 

It’s been a while since I wrote to you but at this point you’re probably the only one who can help me. Seeing as Christmas In July seems to be a thing now, please find below my list. It’s not very conventional but neither is Christmas In July so I’ve attempted to go for non-commercial presents that will be of benefit to lots of people, not just to me.

 

1. Please kill Tony Abbott. No need to make him suffer. Just make him stop being alive. He’s hurting pretty much everyone. He’s happy about it. His actions benefit no-one other than handful of ultra-wealthy people who don’t really need him. He brings nothing good, kind or honest to the world, only selfishness and suffering.

2. Please kill Joe Hockey. He’s a liar and a thief. He’s lied about his family’s business interests for 14 years while he lines his pockets and now he wants the rest of us to put up with unnecessary poverty. I would accept austerity in a time of hardship but in a boom time when Australia is strong it’s empirically wrong. He’s cynically and systematically destroying middle Australia and creating suffering for millions while he and his mates live large.

3. Please kill Scott Morrison. He’s overseeing a system of illegal imprisonment, people trafficking, psychological, physical and sexual abuse, torture and murder of innocent men, women and children. People fleeing the worst horrors imaginable and seeking our help. He has them to concentration camps in the world’s least liveable places to punish them and their families for daring to seek shelter from cruelty.

4. Please kill Christopher Pyne. He’s destroying education for Australians and making it harder for anyone who’s not already rich to compete with their fellows for an equal chance to make a good life for themselves. He’s stealing the future for generations to come and he’s a smarmy little cunt as well if you don’t mind my saying so.

5. Please smack Mattias Cormann really hard, right in his box-shaped, Belgian fucking head about 50 or 60 times, really, really fucking hard. I fucking hate that prick!

 

That’s my top 5. I could go on – George Brandis, Kevin Andrews, Julie Bishop, Arthur Sinodinos, oh God there’s soooo many of them – but I know you’re busy and lots of people will be asking for things. I know I’m not perfect but I’ve been as good as I can, Santa. I haven’t killed anyone, cheated anyone or told any lies that have damaged people’s lives. Just the normal stuff like: “No, you were just a little bit tipsy, no-one took it badly, you were quite amusing.” Oh wait, well, maybe I should’ve been a bit more honest there but seriously…this is getting off topic.

I don’t want to be greedy. If you can only deliver on number 5 I’ll be massively grateful but please, please start at the top. It’s not just for me, these are gifts for all of Australians, for the whole world even. Please, Santa, please bring me Christmas in July – please make Tony Abbott die.

 

Lots of love,

Buck Frain

Ultra violence and chocolate eggs.

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 10, 2009 by Buck Frain


jesus_gets_hammered

Q: What’s this? 

A: A cunt of a way to spend the Easter long weekend!

 

Happy Easter, bitches! Eat chocolate, celebrate rabbits and the amount of fucking they do, buy lumber and nail someone nice to it! I appreciate a couple of days off work as much as the next bloke, but fuck me dead if I don’t wish there was something decent on TV.

Do Bunnings have an Easter sale? That’d be kinda funny.

Why haven’t dairies got involved with a series of commemorative Easter cheeses? Cheeses for Jesus! Sounds good to me, they’d go down a treat with all the cunting bread and red wine. Eat this cheese, for it is my cheese – OK, maybe not, but that whole speech was already pretty creepy stuff. The wine’s your blood, huh? How many of these have you had, J-bagger?

On that note why isn’t there an Exorcist-inspired ice block for Easter? Y’know, lemonade crucifix on a stick with a rasberry jelly Jesus. It’d be fucking great! Try new Lick Me Jesus! Fuck yeah, the kids would love it! 

Ah, shit! It’s only Good Friday, I’m already bored as a twat and there’s still three days to go. Fuck this shit, I’m going down the pub to get wankered!

 

My Confession – The Horrible Truth.

Posted in Tales From Hell with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 15, 2008 by Buck Frain

I work in a market research call centre. My job is to call people like you on the telephone and ask you all manner of pointless questions, while you try to prepare dinner or bathe your children, about products and services you don’t care about in order that faceless corporations can work out how better to get you to hand over your cash to them. So now you know the horrible truth. And you wondered why I was so angry?

Market research is where artistic mediocrities come to die. Dispirited by the corporatisation of the arts and the hopeless lack of funding for, or public interest in, anything that can’t be manipulated to sell burgers, we enter the career cul-de-sac of MR with the illusion of keeping our options open but secretly knowing that we’ll be here until we either die or our jobs get outsourced to a company in Bangalore.

I get out of the lift and clock into hell by pressing my thumbprint onto the scanner plate. Yes, they hate and distrust us that much. I sit at a booth with a neolithic computer, a dialer and a headset. Either side of me sit clones of me, broken artists, impoverished students, gambling addicts, the socially, aesthetically, or mentally challenged, society’s talking wounded. For four to eight hours at a stretch I sit while the auto-dialer dials for me, I say the words that appear in front of my face and key in the responses as given by the respondent. Creativity and initiative are dismissible offences. My job is to be a phone monkey. Say the fuckin’ words!

Of course, I could get another job. But could I get one that pays this well with so little work involved? Probably not. And there’s the rub. It’s Boiling Frog Syndrome – getting paid for sitting talking to people, drinking tea whilst gradually having one’s creativity, imagination, one’s very soul eroded through the dull repetition of mindless research-speak.

If your bank was a person would you be its friend?

Do agree or disagree that your current mobile phone defines your masculinity?

How relevant or irrelevant do you feel your current career makes you to reality? Would you say very relevant, relevant, neither relevant nor irrelevant, irrelevant or completely irrelevant?

Neither relevant nor irrelevant – nice grey area! Is it possible for anything to ever be neither relevant nor irrelevant?

The sad thing this job has really done to me is it’s given me an accurate picture of the society in which I live. I used to think most people in Australia were intelligent and open-minded, slightly left-thinking and generally good-natured. I was wrong, that was just the people I came into contact with. The Howard government’s longevity should have been a dead giveaway. I know now that most Australians are apthetic, sexist, racist, paranoid, hostile, right-wing, sport-obsessed, binge-drinking imbeciles who can’t even spell their own suburb of residence.

How did you get my number?

Well, sir, for this particular project we use random digit dialing…

Don’t bullshit me, I’ve got a silent number…

I understand that sir, what a lot of people don’t realise when they pay for their “silent” number is that all they pay for is for it not to be listed in the white pages or passed on by directory assistance. We have a computer program that generates numbers at random…

That’s impossible, it’s SILENT!!! How can you ring it?

Do you have children?

No!

Do you have friends with children?

Why?

Imagine your friend’s child at two years old…

She’s four!

…at four years old, takes the phone and just dials a jumble of numbers. If those numbers just happened to be your phone number, your phone would ring, wouldn’t it?

Yeah…

Our program is like that child – numbers at random…

Youse are fucked! I’m gonna sue you! You’ll be going to jail, mate and then you won’t be so fuckin’ smart, will ya?

I assure you we’re not doing anything illegal, if you don’t want to participate, all you have to do is decline.

Ya fuckin’ what?

Would you like to speak to my supervisor?

I get a few of these a night. I almost look forward to the stupidity – it breaks the monotony, and dealing with idiots is the only time we’re allowed any creative latitude, all within the bounds of professional civility, of course. A co-worker was sings …I hate people, I wanna kill ’em… Oh, how I empathise.

If you live in Australia, USA or UK there’s a very real possiblity that I may have rung you in the last couple of years. I may have actually annoyed you or someone in your household personally. If I have, I humbly apologise. If not, stay close to the phone because tonight could be your lucky night.