Archive for Wrongness

Fuck Christmas

Posted in Rage Against The Machine with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 19, 2014 by Buck Frain

lp

Christmas 2014 is shaping up to be the most miserable in living memory for Australia. An increasing number of Australians are taking to the streets in T-shirts declaring that they will not be celebrating Christmas at all this year as they’re saving all their party stuff until Prime Minister Tony Abbott dies.

Hatred for the PM has reached fever pitch in many parts of the country, and without a productive outlet for the rage, people are increasingly turning on the institution of Christmas as a focus for their anger. Frank Jelbart, 87, of Coonamble NSW said: “What kind of country are they running here anyway, where a fine young lad like Philip Hughes is struck down playing cricket for God’s sake and a snake like Abbott destroys the country and walks around breathing the air that mates of mine died for. Christmas be fucked this year, I’m just going to take out the 12 gauge and shoot holes in some road signs.”

Vicky Pettigrew, 44, of Happy Valley SA said: “Tony Abbott has ruined Christmas in our house this year. We get a tree each year but neither my husband, Darren, or I can even look at a Christmas tree now without imagining it on fire and stabbed right down that creepy lizard[Abbott]’s Jap-eye.” Mrs. Pettigrew, well-intentioned but a bit of a casual racist, told how the family had tried to persevere with the Christmas spirit until the couple’s thirteen year old son had replaced the traditional fairy atop the tree with a paper cut-out of the Prime Minister. “I think Ethan he thought it was funny or something but when Darren saw it he went berserk. He just dragged the whole tree out into the yard, decorations and all, doused it with two-stroke fuel and set it ablaze. He said no-one in our house would be having any fun until he [Abbott] dies.”

Similar scenes are playing out all over the country. In Mulgrave Vic, Trevor Farnsworth, 53, said the only thing he would be doing this Christmas was taking a hammer and knocking the handles off all of his 82 sporting trophies attained over 35 years of competing in a range of sports. “It’s been my life”, he wept, “but now they all just remind me of that dirty, big-eared cunt. Why can’t someone just fuckin’ kill him?”

You would be mistaken to think that the discontent stops at our sovereign borders though, interviewed at his well-hidden North Pole factory this week, the usually-jolly Santa Claus let fly about the Australian PM when asked about the down-turn in festive participation this season. “Tony Abbott is cancer in Speedos, he can get fucked! I’m not even going to Australia this year. I’m sorry kids but you can just fuck right off as long as that prick’s breathing. I’m serious! Cunt [Abbott] wants to pretend global warming doesn’t exist? I live in the fucking North Pole, bitches! Do you know how much I’ve had to spend on foundation re-flotation and sea-floor mooring just so the factory doesn’t sink into the fucking Arctic Ocean? It’s like Venice-On-Ice up here – it’s fucking bullshit – and that filthy weasel shit-fuck [Abbott] spends most of his time gobbing off Big Mining like coal’s a good fucking idea. No surprise that Tony Abbott’s death is Australia’s second most wished-for Christmas item this year, but I’ll tell you now: if you want him dead you’re going to have to do it your lazy fucking selves. I wouldn’t let Rudolph piss on that beef-jerky-looking bastard if he was on fire.

santa-mad

With the big man in red seeing red, our intrepid reporter wasn’t game to ask what the number one most wished for Christmas item was from Australia, although my money’s on having a truck-load of pineapples smashed up Scott Morrison’s arse with a sledgehammer. Whatever it is, there’s no doubt that we’ve lost our way with Christmas. Sure as cunts I can’t buggered with it! Like the kids are saying: Fuck Christmas – I’m saving all my party stuff ‘til Tony Abbott dies.

NO NO NO NO NO!!!

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 8, 2009 by Buck Frain

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 puzzlebox

People are twisted and people are stupid and some people are just completely fucked. Kes, you bastard, you sent me a truly horrible link. I have no words other than NO! I am really regretting my own curiosity, I feel very unwell. The internet is a stupid, ugly place filled with puerile depravity.

 

If someone presented you with a Hellraiser puzzle box, would you try to solve it?  This link recently sent to me by a complete bastard, is just such a thing, except you don’t need any puzzle-solving abilities. If you haven’t heard about jarsquatter, be warned – IT IS FUCKING WRONG! YOU WILL NOT LIKE IT! I DO NOT LIKE IT! IF YOU CLICK THE LINK AND DON’T LIKE IT, DON’T BLAME ME BECAUSE I’VE ALREADY TOLD YOU IT’S VERY, VERY NASTY!

 

So why did I post it then? I don’t know…

  1. I haven’t had much time so it’s been a while since I wrote anything
  2. Seeing this really fucked up my calm today
  3. I’m a cunt and thought I’d share my nausea.

Have a nice day!

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck – #8

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 17, 2008 by Buck Frain

#8. Power, Politics & Paranoia

Someone much wiser and more educated than me once said Everything is political, they were bloody well right too! Even the most politically apathetic, socially recalcitrant house-mate will become a political animal once placed in the share-house arena, in fact they’ll probably be the absolute worst, grubbing around for every little piece of leverage they can get.

 

There are many different types of political animal to be found in share-houses. I’m sure you’ve met a great many of them. The annoying shit-stirrers, painful meeting-obsessed peace-makers, militant law-makers, to name but a few. Then there are the innumerable games they play and the territories they try to annex to mark out their power base in the house so they can feel at home. Ownership of the remote control, occupation of the couch, rights over the stereo, responsibility for putting out bins. Pigs, bitches and borrowers are political positions and indicative of the ever fluctuating power dynamic of the share-house.

 

Whether you like it or not you’ll play the game. It’s impossible to avoid unless you want to be the bitch. Guys play different to girls, singles play different to couples but everyone plays.

 

Power, or Hand is what they all want. It makes life easier. The great thing about having Hand is that you rarely have to use it. A look is enough. A raised eyebrow or a carefully understated turn of phrase has the other player tying themselves in knots to avoid a conflict they can’t win. But Hand is a fickle mistress. She has to be maintained and can be very easily lost. One night where you get so drunk you wake up in the hallway without pants can end your political reign in a house. Or not – just like in real politics, if you can spin the facts in your own favour you may walk away with more respect than you had to start with.

 

In an enlightened household where mutual respect is the going currency the need for this struggle for Hand is minimal and everyone can relax, unfortunately, such households are generally regarded as fictional. The share-house is not like a home, it’s more like a battlefield. It’s all about survival and your enemies are everywhere, smiling like dirty bastards and then stealthily sticking passive-aggressive notes to the fridge as soon as no-one’s looking.

 

I don’t like aggression, especially at home, it’s unnecessary and crude. Passive-aggression, though, really gives me the right royal cunt. There is nothing more fucked in the entire universe than the smug, cowardly shitfulness that passive-aggressive people ooze out onto the rest of humanity. Just be up-front and honest! I don’t mind people getting the massive screaming shits with me but I cunting well hate passive-aggression with a vengeance. If I was ever to murder someone it would probably be because of some smarmy passive-aggressive piece of skullfuckery. Unfortunately, whilst murdering people is relatively easy, getting away with it is not and the authorities seem to take a pretty dim view of it even when there’s compelling evidence that society is better off as a result.

 

So what’s to do? I could fight back, honest aggression style, I could fight back like a dog-felching-passive-aggressive wank-stain, but fighting leads to a win-lose situation that may not be stacked in my favour. What if I’m not tough enough to win on aggression? What if I’m not enough of a douche-bag to win the passive-aggressive-I-wish-I-was-Oscar-Wilde-cunty-shit-eater game? Guess I’d just have to take the loss, huh? You’d think that, wouldn’t you? You’d probably be able to go back through all those previous house-mate battles and count up all the victories where you had Hand, wouldn’t you? Yeah, that prick just had to fuckin’ wear it, ha ha! And maybe you’d be right. Maybe your adversary walked away with his tail between his legs and took the loss like an honourable man. Hmm…honour…there’s the rub. If honour were present we wouldn’t really have this problem in the first place. Never underestimate your opponent, and never, ever fuck with a coward!

 

Remember your toothbrush. Remember where it is. How vulnerable and alone it is when you’re not around. Remember all the dirty things in its immediate vicinity. Have you ever brushed your teeth and thought your toothbrush tasted funny but shuffled the thought away with a rationalisation like: It’s winter…it’s damp…the air doesn’t circulate in here. What lies have you told yourself so you didn’t have to acknowledge that your toothbrush may have visited the toilet? That your toothbrush may have been pissed on? That it may have been up the cat’s bum? Because it may have. It’s conceiveable – when did you last see the cat? But, no, how pissed off would someone have to be to do that? Maybe a lot…hmmm, maybe not so much – how widely hated is the cat? There are many areas where you are vulnerable to a terrorist attack by the people you live with. Yes, a terrorist attack. Terror is the only response available to the oppressed so think about it. If someone dunked their nob into your cottage cheese and stirred it around a bit, then put the cottage cheese back in the fridge – would you know? In a world without honour, how much Hand do you really have?

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck – #7

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 14, 2008 by Buck Frain

#7 Other People’s Genitals

 

I don’t have issues with nudity per se. I think streakers at sporting events are funny and I’m cool with the genitals of anyone I’m intimate with. However, other people are another matter altogether. I am OK with other people having genitals just so long as they’re not flapping around at eye level when I’m sitting in the kitchen trying to eat my breakfast.

 

What the weeping-nob-scab is wrong with people? So, you picked up my house-mate last night and brought her back to a house you’ve never been to before inhabited by people you’ve never met and in the morning you wander out through the kitchen in search of the loo…naked. Nice one! And then you look at me like I’m the one with the problem and ask:

 

What are you lookin’ at?

 

I don’t know, fuckhead, is it a bonsai penis? I was worried you were going to try to fuck my breakfast with it!

 

Seriously, what are you doing? Do you have super-complex underpants that take 3 hours and a Ph.D to put on? Use a fucking towel, arse-face!!! In an ideal world one might hope that girls would have more modesty, however, I haven’t really seen any evidence of that.

 

What are you doing here?

 

I live here. I’m eating my breakfast. The toilet’s that way…um…you’re dripping on the fucking floor.

 

One morning I walked out to see a naked guy sitting with his naked arse on one of our chairs at the kitchen table eating our fucking cereal. What the SHIT??? I don’t mind too much about the cereal but how can I use a kitchen chair that’s had some fucker’s sweaty nut-sack and unwashed ring resting on it? Do I disinfect it or just throw the fucking thing away?

 

Inhibitions – they’re great! We have them for a reason. We have them because we aren’t solitary animals, we live in societies and these have only maintained a semblance of order and civility because people covered their genitals up and stopped scent-marking everything in sight. I’m stoked that you’re comfortable with your hairy, hail-damaged body, but do me a favour: COVER IT UP!!! No, really, take this guest burkha! Not because I have issues with my own body, not because I won’t be able to control my primal urges but because I can’t eat and vomit at the same time and I can’t spend my whole life buying new dining furniture.

11 Shit Things That Make Share-Living Suck – #6

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 8, 2008 by Buck Frain

#6. Burning The Midnight Toast.

 

This particular share-house phenomenon took its name from a quite inoffensive event. After a suitably boozy night when several members of the house had returned late from their respective nights out, we arose to find two ice-cold pieces of blackened toast sticking out of the top of the toaster. Beside the toaster sat the butter and there was an unused butter knife on the counter over an open cutlery drawer. The evidence all pointed to someone being so heavily shit-pantsed that they’d decided to make toast but either forgot the cause part-way through, or weren’t up to completing the task and just went off to bed. As each member of the house surfaced, they were asked: 

Hey, who was burning the midnight toast last night?

 

It was loveably roguish behaviour and burning the midnight toast made its way into the household’s vernacular as a euphemism for any strange domestic rearrangements that may have taken place overnight, possibly under the influence of intoxicants.

 

Unfortunately, the term began to lose its lustre as it became used as an excuse for all sorts of unpleasant indiscretions. The following are all 100% genuine questions we had to, and did, ask house-mates over the course of several months:

 

Excuse me, do you know who…

 

     …left an uncooked cake in the oven?

 

     …owns the dildo on the couch?

 

     …kicked over the stereo?

 

     …ordered a prostitute?

 

     …screamed abuse at the neighbours last night?

 

     …left a used condom on the kitchen floor?

 

     …tried to poke vomit down the plug-hole in the bathtub?

 

     …had a piss in the fridge?

 

It’s bad, bad, bad, wrong, wrong, WRONG!!! Everyone has their moments and most people burn the midnight toast at some point but there are limits, people, FUCKING LIMITS!!! Get help, get counselling, go to rehab, leave me the stomped-ballbag alone because I don’t want to fucking well live with you filthy fucking animals ANY-CUNTING-MORE!!!

Free Vegan Porn!!!

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 27, 2008 by Buck Frain

I’m interrupting the important series on share-house living to bring you this important bulletin. I have discovered a new and exciting genre in the diverse realm that is pornography – VEGAN PORN!!!

I felt it was only fitting to try and give something to all those people who have stumbled onto this site looking for wank fodder and have felt ripped off because it was all just obscene language and spite.

Vegan porn is pretty out there but it is new and entirely meat-free  with no connection whatsoever with animal products or flesh of any kind. I have included two examples from my own extensive vegan porn library and I can safely say that no animals were in anyway involved in its production, unless I count because I took the photos and I’m made of meat.

My first example is this nubile, barely-legal, virgin poppy. Ooh yeah, she’s young and she’s gagging for it.

 

And my second is this one below – my favourite TILF (Tree I’d Like to Fuck) Just look at this mucky old slapper, she’s bang up for it any old time! This dirty old bitch has been around and seen it all – just count the rings!!!   

 

You people are fuckin’ sick, they’re plants! JESUS!!! No, seriously, I don’t judge anyone for their sexual orientation. Whatever floats your boat – ya sick fucks! By the way, if anyone has any more vegan porn whether it’s floraginas, cuntrees or rootable fruits, I’d be really interested in it – from a purely academic standpoint, you understand. Please send all herbaceous whacking material to buck.frain@gmail.com  If it’s any good I may even post it here – I’ll credit you, of course! Stay freaky!

The Dehumanising Onset Of Sickness.

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 14, 2008 by Buck Frain

Ah, I’m getting sick. It’s absolutely fucked. I could feel the lump starting at the back of my throat and putting just the slightest pressure on my right ear-drum this morning. There was just a hint of a sniffle and I just knew that tomorrow I’ll wake up as sick as a bitch, sore throat, snot factory, hot dry eyes and in a cunt of a mood!

 

I don’t suppose I should be surprised, call centres are breeding grounds for disease. The whole place is a fucking bio-hazard and should be bombed to shit. Sniffling, sneezing, coughing mouth-breathers everywhere. Fuck! I’m an obsessive fucking cleanliness freak at work. We have these alcohol wipes for the headsets, I use about five or six at the beginning of every shift. I sterilize the headset, keyboard, mouse, monitor, desk, everything. Who the fuck knows who was here last? And, fuck, let me tell you there are people who work here who you don’t want to share anything with. I don’t even trust the cups in the kitchen at work. Even if they look clean I hold them under the boiling water tap before using them.

 

But despite my best efforts, flu shots included, I’ve caught something. I fucking felt it all day, it’s like a cloud of retardedness has descended on me. Everything is just a little out of phase, I’m just half a step off normal. I rammed my shin into the corner of the bed while I was getting ready for work this morning. I swore like a bastard. Fuck, it hurt. I poured boiling water on my hand at work while sterilising my cup. It fucking hurt too but wasn’t bad, I put it straight under cold water, it probably won’t even blister. Still, I felt like a tool and it was another sign that something was wrong.

 

I finally decided to go home after I sneezed and everything turned green. Not only did I nearly deafen the guy I was on the phone to, I had viscous green mucous all down my face and in my hand. It was fucking revolting. I excused myself from the call and reached my free hand into a pocket searching for tissue…to no avail, there were none to be found. I started to get up and realised that my headset mic was entirely hidden within an enormous gob of phlegm connected by a green umbilicus to my top lip. The nice goth girl sitting next to me actually dry retched.  I am hideous. I went to the loo, with my headset, cleaned up and left for the day. Ah, kill me!