Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Did I already say fucken roll on winter. Well too bad, I'll say it again. 42.6 fucken degrees C in a fibro house. And all the neighbors have air cons, keeping them cool and pumnping out hot air for me to enjoy. I'd reckon in full on urban city areas the air cons would have a measureable effect on the local ambient air temperature.
Well I spose that I'm still better off than the roos in the piccy - they have just spent three days watching their home get fried and dodging being toast themselves. The other piccies were taken the day before the fire came through, driven by kabatic winds at about seventy km/h, ambient air temp of 40C plus, luckily most of the paddock grass was pretty well grazed short - some places were chest high and dry - they are just sand now. If the wind had changed we would have been joining the roos in looking fucking tired.
The avenue of trees are Lemon Scented gums, doesn't matter what time of year it is they smell fucken unreal. One day I will have an avenue of them leading to the cave...
Mummy roo looks tasty....mmmmm...time for tea.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

The turtle is telling me it's time for another holidays to happen, soon as every other cunt goes back to work/ school that is. In thge meantime I sometimes do "art", some might not like what I produce, sometimes I don't. Any way sometime I draw, make knives or furniture, sometimes ( and preferably), with secret compartments.

This fella, 'turty', came from the Exmouth Gulf, as flotsam on the shore. (Not quite a BMW but it'll do for a find). He, (or she), thought that it was knock off time and layed down for a bit. Maybe a shark, who knows.

So did the top (horns) half of 'munch' on the wall, 'cept he had a accident with a bit of lead I was driving. (38 inches tip to tip spread).

Now it's time to get happening again, recycling A La Rackorf.

I can see ol' 'turty' here sitting at the top of a six foot (metal) spine with ribs, sort of skeletal I s'pose, as a room lamp. (Mind you, the accesseries will add the final touch - good set of fangs(shiny white metal), arms and legs with claws, climbing up the corner of a room, looking over his shoulder).

Ol 'Munch' is a figment of circumstantial bits, that seemed to go together and need a background. At present he has got a castle entrance to his left shoulder and the wall up to the rear...
I have a few limitations, (space and time - over one wall with chalk), but wonder - what is in the background apart from the castle?
Is it a battle, a forest, a mountain range, or what?

I have my ideas, but if there are any showstoppers that I can draw, maybe they will appear.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Spot the dot.
With the little dot map thingy , you can see who has visited your site - well more where they come from, geographically. I'd reckon I can 'see' a few regular commenters. So who are the "other dots" that show up large and don't comment?

Come on, say gooday - I might even be nice to you and not be a sarcastic cunt. (Then again I might not.)

Seems that a few folks out there are having a generally shitty year so far. I've had a few of them,(shitty years, living on the bones of my arse and wits), myself. I have eaten one meal a day for extended periods due to circumstances at times. I have drooled over a not so fresh road kill full of maggots - it tasted ok and the maggots were just more protein (though best to think of as soft rice). I have given my last dollar to another that has needed it more and have had people help me out at times.

I've found that the best way to deal with it is to view it all in perspective. I realised that there is always someone worse off than you are. I remember of seeing a photo once of a fella in some third world shithole, walking through floodwater to his ankles, carrying his 20l plastic food ( the type mayo and stuff comes in). The bucket was split up the side and had been fixed with string, it appeared to carry his wordly possessions. It was probably his best asset and made him rich compared to the fellas walking with him, as they had no buckets and carried thier few ragged possesions in their arms, while he was able to have a free hand and carry more.

I mostly try to look on the positive side of things and think big. I have been to subsidised conferences and had dinner with chairpersons of goverment and private enterprise while not having the price of a coffee in my pocket. A common term I heard was "buckets of money". Do a websearch on government funding available, I did. It was an eye opener, especially if you are, or can, create a not-for-profit organisation.

Over here we have the rock an roll to help out if you are between jobs, sometimes you are expected to work on projects to continue to get payments. Fair enough. Mostly the projects involve exciting shit like painting posts or pulling weeds. I got selected for one once, so rang the head of the organisation organising the work project and laid my idea on him, "yeah i can paint a fucken post or dig a hole, but if you give me a work team I have this idea for a historical preservation project. It should last for about three years and will generate ongoing project work and generate significant local revenue for the local community, hence creating employment in a low employment area. I'll write a comprehensive plan for you as fulfillment of my obligation to the rock an roll. If you decide to go ahead with it and give me a budget, $50 000 pa and a car, I will manage the work groups and get the project completed as per the attached timelines."
Well I wrote the plan but the funding went elsewhere and to date it has not happened. Fucken good practice though and a worthwhile exercise. Or I could of just picked up the shovel or brush.

So anyway, after all that, here are my tips for happiness;
  • be yourself
  • be honest
  • live by your moral code. Allow others to live by theirs.
  • tell it like you see it. if people don't like it, too fucken bad, harden up you soft cunt.
  • tell dickheads to fuck off
  • look folks in the eye
  • unless they are traditional idegenous folks (it'd be bad manners)
  • give a bonecrushing handshake, unless it's a sheila
  • do not trust those who have a limp handshake - fucken dead fish hand cunts, fuck off!!!
  • only do what you want to do
  • try to be nice to other people - unless they are cunts or dickheads
  • if someone malicously accuses you falsly, give them an opportunity to retract
  • if they do not, punch them in the head, hard, and give them the offer again. (repeat as required)
  • have good, true, mates (most of my mates are not what you would call rich, but we all help each other, any time of the day or night)
  • stand by your mates
  • stick up for other cunts as required
  • tell bullshit stories to gossipy cunts and follow the yarn as it does its rounds
  • be extra nice to your neighbors, unless they are cunts.
  • if your neighbors are cunts, make their life miserable till they fuck off or pull their heads in (i once told a neighbor that I was going to rent my house to coons and tell them that the cunt next door hated all black folks, but if they wanted to put him right good on em an here's a flagon of plonk for your housewarming party, invite all your mates - then buy his house cheap and move them out of my house with a demolition order - then build a new one. hehehe)
  • catch the odd surfy (squeal you cunt)
  • and the odd fish
  • or two
  • listen to the sound of the wind, and nothing else, in the remotest of places
  • watch the dawn
  • listen to birds
  • watch the animals
  • study whatever interest takes me at the time
  • shoot cats, pigs, goats and other feral shit
  • watch kangaroos fight, then shoot the loser for tucker. Now that would be a bad day! (for the roo)
So there ya go.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

I'm lucky enough to live in a small town where we know our cops. Mostly they are pretty friendly and helpful. ( Some have been a bit strange, but thats another yarn). I suppose that in a way they have to be. Unless maybe they'd like some dog shit with their sanga's - and, as we know, kids can be horrible little cunts too, especially when there is only one school.
Anyway our cops are good value, they keep the tourist fuckheads in line - (years ago we had no tourists and consequently no cops - bush justice is pretty fair and effective) - and they even drive pissed cunts home from the pub at stumps.
Well mostly. One local rocket scientist, now known as the 'copkiller', decided that he would rather drive himself. And did. Right over the cops leg. And went off home, as you do after running over a cop.
So the cop, ( only bruised), rings his mate (the other cop), and off they go to the copkillers house. Where he refuses them entry and rings the big city cops to tell them he's got two cunts pretending to be cops trying to get into his house. Cops are dispatched rapidly from surrounding areas -(the local cops are uncontactable for some reason) - they roll up, lights and sirens, and go - "hang on, you are cops". Off goes the copkiller with them.
What a dickhead. Some places cops might have shot the cunt. Maybe they should've. Crime = being a fuckwit that brings heat on everyone and fucks up a good thing.
Well the cunts walking for the next seven years so I suppose thats all good.
I always give a friendly toot and wave as I drive past:)
Fucken beersicles - the dread of hot summer days - um ok - usually nights, when you decide that the beer isn't cold enough.
you rip the scab off the cunt, which looked fine when you checked it, and out comes this frothy ooze. if you sort of chew and skuul it you can nearly maintain a liquid - for a little while. Then you're fucked. Ya piss is frozen or too fucken hot and gone rooey on ya.
Or worse, go to bed and forget about the beers, that it seemed like a good idea to chill at the time, chilling - for a couple of days.
What a horrible loss. A whole fucken six pack.

I was going up the free way once and told the office girl at the other end about the horrible accident I had seen on the way up, dead everywhere, all laying broken and scattered. She was appropriately concerned and wanted more of the gruesome details, so I told her that there were at least 30 cartons involved. She got pretty upset about it. Poor dear.

Monday, January 15, 2007

Well here we are in 2007. Seems like the new year was ages ago already - not that I did anything for it.
Nothing has changed much.
Over at the tennis...some serbians/croatians/greeks got kicked out for fighting each other and being dickheads. Guess what fuck heads - didn't you come here to get away from fighting each other- if you want to carry on, fuck off to where you came from. Cunts.
The cops shoot a bipolar dude that stabbed them with a knife. Maybe they shouldn't have chased him. Maybe they should've, who fucken knows. Shooting him four times in the chest does seem a tad excessive though.
A couple of the indigenous lads get fried in the desert. Poor cunts. This is unusual, usually it's tourists. Apparently the vehicle had both axles removed and a blown tyre. Interesting.
Today is cooler than the last couple of days - 24C ; yesterday was 39C at the shed -too fucken hot for this little black duck. Fucken roll on winter, summer sucks.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Tick-tocks. Or Cicadas, if you call them that. Ever noticed how they start earlier if the day is going to be hot?

The other day there where a few clouds around and it was a fair bit cooler when a cloud went in front of the sun. Every time the sun went behind a cloud, they'd shut up - starting again when it came out. I wonder if they are temperature activated?

The fucken thing that really gets me about them, is how you can be driving along at 80kmh and they are all ticking and tocking at the same time along the sides of the road. Does this extend across oz? Does the head tictok go "ok , wait for it, wait for it - and one, and two, - don't fuck it up this time Freddy - and three..... "

Noisy cunts.

Monday, January 01, 2007

The Mundaring Aerated Water Factory, long defunct, used to supply home made soft drinks in specially made bottles. The bottles feature an image of Mundaring Weir on them.
Mundaring Weir is about seven km fron Mundaring and was built by CY O'Connor to supply water to the goldfields via a pipeline - a major engineering feat that is still in use today.

When we were kids, me and my mate would go looking for old and interesting bottles out the bush. There used to be all sorts, pretty blue ones, little minature ones, and heaps of the big boring Mundaring Aerated Water Factory bottles - which, of course, we used to chuck rocks at and smash.
We would have smashed fucken hundreds of the cunts, as you do when you are ten year old ratbags.
The one that I have, (how the fuck did that survive), is one of only two that I am aware of in existence now - the other one is in a museum and is in poor condition.
A few years ago I did some research on the story of the factory and found out about the lack of suviving bottles. One person that I spoke to refered to them as the "Rolls Royce" of soft drink bottles - due in part to their rarity.
And here I am, the person that helped to make them so rare (unknowingly), with one in my possession. Life's funny like that.
By the way, all you'se cunts have a fucken good year .