Saturday, October 31, 2015


'Each bite I take, it brings me closer to death...'

Irish bluesy rockers The Mighty Stef, the awesome band fronted by the awesome Stef Murphy, with their sorta Halloween-ish track "Vampire., Hold Me Tight". Which I post coz it is Halloween and it talks about vampires.

AND COZ THE MIGHTY STEF ARE AWESOME. Not well enough known outside of Ireland, Stef Murphy has already recorded with Irish music legends such as The Pogue's Shane MacGowan and the late, great Ronnie Drew who helped revolutionise traditional Irish music with The Dubliners.

The track is off their latest album, Year of the Horse, which is getting them some attention. The band are frequent tourers of Europe and the US, playing with the likes of Flogging Molly and plenty of others, and for GOD'S SAKE I WISH THE BASTARDS WOULD COME TO AUSTRALIA! 

Anyway... here is a great acoustic version of the track:

'...and in my blackened windows, I pray that the sun might shine...'


'Well it;s getting to the stage that I always knew it would, that I can;t walk down my street.. I'm getting death threats  here, death threats there from everyone that I meet...'

It's Halloween. Here are 11 terrifying Tom Waits tracks

I know what you are thinking tonight. "What Tom Waits songs should I play on Halloween?"

Fair question. As everyone who knows Tom Waits music knows, there is Tom Waits for all occasions -- and especially Halloween.

I have chosen 11 tracks, not because there are just 11 (hell all of the the "Bastards" disc on his Orphans triple album qualifies, let alone all of Black Rider) but because there were the 11 I just happened to fucking choose. JUST FUCKING ENJOY THEM YOU GODDAMN BASTARDS!

* * *

'I swear to God I hear somebody moaning, low...'

When the moon is a cold chiseled dagger
Sharp enough to draw blood from a stone
He rides through your dreams on a coach
And horses and the fence posts
In the midnight look like bones

Now the raven's nest in the rotted roof
Of Chenoweth's old place
And no one's asking Cal
About that scar upon his face
'Cause there's nothin' strange
About an axe with bloodstains in the barn

That's when I heard my name in a scream
Coming from the woods, out there
I let my dog run off the chain
I locked my door real good with a chair

The barn leaned over
The vultures dried their wings
The moon climbed up an empty sky
The sun sank down behind the tree
On the hill
There's a killer and he's coming
Thru the rye
But maybe he's the Father
Of that lost little girl
It's hard to tell in this light

Everything has its price
Everything has its place
What's more romantic
then dying in the moonlight?

Under the Big Top tonight
Never before seen
And if you have a heart condition, please be warned

Okay, there's your story!

And as we discussed last semester, the Army Ants will leave nothing but your bones.

There was thunder
There was lightning
Then the stars went out
And the moon fell from the sky
It rained mackerel
It rained trout
And the great day of wrath has come
And here's mud in your big red eye
The poker's in the fire
And the locusts take the sky
And the earth died screaming...

The quill from a buzzard
The blood writes the word
I want to know am I the sky
Or a bird
'Cause hell is boiling over
And heaven is full
We're chained to the world
And we all gotta pull
And we're all gonna be
Just dirt in the ground

Yeah. I know. Don't thank me, just buy me a beer some time. You can eve n do so via the Pay Pal button on the right hand side of this blog.

Tuesday, October 06, 2015

Sorry America... you don't do political scandal properly

Did you hear the one about the Senate candidate from Florida who ritually slaughtered a goat and drank it's blood?

Two years ago, Augustus Sol Invictus walked from central Florida to the Mojave Desert and spent a week fasting and praying, at times thinking he wouldn't survive. In a pagan ritual to give thanks when he returned home, he killed a goat and drank its blood. 
Now that he's a candidate for U.S. Senate, the story is coming back to bite him. 
The chairman of the Libertarian Party of Florida has resigned to call attention to Invictus' candidacy in hopes that other party leaders will denounce him. Adrian Wyllie, who was the Libertarian candidate for governor last year, says Invictus wants to lead a civil war, is trying to recruit neo-Nazis to the party and brutally and sadistically dismembered a goat.

Yeah, I know. Whatever.

This is a year when it was revealed British Prime Minister David Cameron skull-fucked a dead pig to join a perverted secret society of the English elite at a prestigious university. The United States of America is going have to try just a little bit harder in "politicians doing disturbing things to animals" if it really wants the world's attention.
America, I know you're feeling insecure about China taking your whole thing of rising to become an economic powerhouse only suffer a dramatic crash, and Russia stealing your whole "bombing the Middle East and getting sucked into chaotic quagmire" stunt, but, frankly, you're starting to look desperate.

I mean, this guy isn't even elected to any office. He was only a candidate for a minor, fringe party unlikely to win. And, according to all press reports I have found, NO ONE EVEN ACCUSES HIM OF SEXUALLY ASSAULTING THE DEAD ANIMAL!

Now I admit, it would be a pretty big story if he had fucked a dead goat, even being merely a candidate forr a fringge party, because few stories are as attention grabbing as a good goat-fucking tale. But he just drank it blood and, that is a little distasteful but at the end of the day there is no getting away from the sheer bald fact that HE DIDN'T FUCK THE GOAT.

Get back to us, America, when this clown learns how to actually fuck a dead goat.

What's more, the ritual sacrifice and blood drinking was done for religious purposes, because the would-be senator is a pagan. Cameron, on the other hand, is, as are all decent Eton-educated British Prime Ministers, an Anglican.

And unless I've severely misread my Bible, there is nothing in Jesus's Sermon on the Mount or in the Ten Commandments as dictated by the Lord Himself to Moses about getting a dead pig's head and then inserting your penis so as to simulate oral sex while smashed out of your brain and surrounded by a gaggle of other drunken, cheering toffs dressed like penguins.

It does, for the record, state in Leviticus 11:7 that the pig is "unclean" and, by implication, should not be eaten. But it is silent on the matter of whether or not it displeases God to have a pig eat you.

Even the really disturbing things about Invictus -- the allegations he is actually a fascist who wants to start a civil war --   is nowhere near as disturbing as the really disturbing things about Cameron.

David Cameron, as British PM, actually heads an increasingly fascistic state looking more and more like piece of theatre from The George Orwell Appreciation Society's annual production all while overseeing a brutal class war that kills people, while also protecting and promoting the corporate interests that are pursuing activities climate scientists have been screaming at us for decades now to STOP FOR GOD'S SAKE despite the growing evidence that not stopping is severely screwing us potentially to the point of no return as even those same corporate interests themselves know full well.

And he fucked a dead pig. David Cameron wins.

'LOL! This brings back my uni days!'

Monday, September 28, 2015

Andrew Bolt On His 'Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name'

The world mocks.
Andrew Bolt has written a sustained defence of Tony Abbott that is being mocked by the small-minded and hateful twitterati as a "love letter", with all the teenage sniggering that suggests ("Andrew and Tony sitting in a tree K.I.S.S.I.N.G!") in ways that are arguably borderline homophobic. Which is not just petty but a little distasteful, as we all know they really don't like that kinda thing.

It is sad to see. And all because Andrew, unable to take all the hurtful things everyone has been saying about the great man any longer, pens an ode to Tony called "The Loss Of PM Abbott A Time Of Sorrow".

In it, he pours his heart out about the pain he feels over the loss of "one of the finest human beings to be Prime Minister". And just because he knighted Prince Philip, ate a raw onion and sought to dismantle the social safety net in the most extreme agenda of kicking the shit out of the poor seen since the days of the Hungry Mile in the Great Depression!

"You’ll laugh that I can write this massive praise of him when almost everyone else is horse-laughing," Andrew writes, in one of the rare examples of accuracy in his columns. For Andrew, poor Tony "seemed too moral for the job" -- a fact definitely missed by the rest of us.

Perhaps it was missed especially by the asylum seeker children Tony held in isolated prison camps subjected to systematic abuse. But really, I think we all should put our hands up and admit "moral" is not the first word that comes to mind when thinking of former PM Abbott.

The world does not understand.
Tony "led the world’s defiance of deadly Russian strongman Vladimir Putin", says Andrew, defying cynics who dare suggest the only thing his much-ridiculed threat to "shirtfront Putin" led the world into was hysterics.

And he was kind! "Ask my children how gentle he was when he called around." See! Tony loved children! Not the ones on Manus Island and Nauru obviously... but Aussie children, obviously!

Andrew has his criticisms, sure -- who wouldn't? Largely that Tony just refused to lower himself to the level of his dirty rotten opponents.

"I could have shaken the silly bugger, who played politics like it was cricket when everyone else was cage fighting," Andrew writes in possibly the only known example of anyone accusing Tony Abbott of not being enough of brawler.

Just too good for this world is our Andrew's Tony.

I guess the rest of us just don't know the real Tony, only having the well-documented public record of his constant brutal brawling in defence of what can only be called a hate-filled agenda to go by.

But Andrew enlightens us: "Those I love best are people of honour, warmth and kindness. Tony Abbott is one such man..."

In case you hadn't guessed, Andrew is really upset. "Sorry to sound so melodramatic," he writes. No need to apologise, mate! You just sound heartfelt and Christ knows there is too little of such passion in this cruel world!

Sure, much of the cruelty in the world comes from politicians like your beloved and their media defenders like yourself, who was found guilty of violating the Racial Discrimination Act for some of the most hate-filled commentary this hardly hate-free nation has seen ... but all you can do is speak from your broken little heart.

'Tell me more, Tony, you're so wise!.
Sadly, speaking from his heart has brought predictable ridicule down on Andrew's head -- and even utter bemusement and wondering if he has been living on Mars or perhaps taken magic mushrooms every day since Abbott became PM two years ago.

But I have it on good authority that Andrew will not take such mockery lying down and plans a moving speech at the start of this week's Bolt Report to answer his critics.

Below is a leaked copy of the planned speech. Sure it owes a little to Oscar Wilde's famous court room defence of "the love that dare not speak its name", but then few have been as terribly persecuted and misunderstood as Oscar Wilde than has Andrew Bolt -- who was also subjected to an unfair and cruel court case that found him guilty of race hate.

While Oscar was sentenced to two years hard labour, Andrew has been subjected to heading up a weekly TV show and writing a major column in the most widely read paper in the country.

Well... put aside all your prejudices about the man. I challenge anyone to read Andrew's speech with dry eyes.

* * *

What is the "Love that dare not speak its name"?

"The Love that dare not speak its name" in this century is such a great affection of a Murdoch columnist for a conservative politician as there was between Murdoch’s
Sun and Margaret Thatcher, such as Milton Friedman made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the writings of Goebbels and Rand.

It is that deep, spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of policy documents like those of the IPA and Sydney Institute, and those blog posts of mine, such as they are.

It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as the "Love that dare not speak its name," and on account of it I am placed where I am now, with even my usually loyal blog commentators wondering what the fuck I’ve been smoking.

It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is ideological, and it repeatedly exists between an hard right political thug and a writer found guilty of spreading race hate, when the propagandist has ideology, and the politician has all the fight, hate and promise of high office before him. 

That it should be so the world does not understand. The world mocks at it and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it, or at least, on national TV.

How can they look into my eyes
And still they don't believe me
How can they hear me say those words
And still they don't believe me
And if they don't believe me now
Will they ever believe me?
And if they don't believe me now
Will they ever believe me?

The boy with the thorn in his side
Behind the hatred there lies
A plundering desire for love

It's OK Andrew! Morrissey believes you! Morrissey understands!

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

A song for Tony, a song for Malcolm

So the glorious reign of Tony Abbott has come to a bloody end, knifed by his own party due to his unique capacity to combine hated anti-people policies with 12th century social views and a competency level that'd see him sacked as a trolley pusher at a supermarket, probably for winking lewdly at pensioners or throwing lumps of coal at the English backpackers trying to fleece people's cash for Greenpeace.

He's been replaced as our Overlord by Malcolm Turnbull, who is basically the same thing with better social skills, a nicer smile and less a shill for the corporate elite as an actual direct member of the ultra-rich. The richest man in Australian parliament, a multi-millionaire merchant banker and venture capitalist, Malcolm is evidence that anyone can make it in this country, even those who own it.

To mark this occasion, here is a song for Tony.

'You're just some racist who can't tie my laces, your point of view is medieval...'

Written by Lily Allen apparently about George Bush, it is word-for-word a perfect goodbye for the biggest, dumbest prick to ever call the Lodge home.

And here is one for Malcolm.

'Well did you hear, there’s a natural order
Those most deserving will end up with the most
That the cream cannot help but always rise up to the top
Well I say: Shit floats
If you thought things had changed
Friend you’d better think again
Bluntly put in the fewest of words...'

Written by Jarvis Cocker for New Labour when Blair was still PM (directly inspired by the bullshit of the "Make Poverty History" G8 summit in Britain in 2005 where world's leaders pretended to help Africa's poor while finding new ways to screw them backwards), change "world" for "Australia", it applies perfectly to the take over by the shiny, slick prick Turnbull.


'Oh, oh, onion skin
Walking around with
Your heart caved in
When you start to roll
Your skin flies off
And the teardrops flow'

No explanation needed.


'Those peaceful protests just were not cutting it...'

Yeah sure technically Trevor Moore's call to chop the heads off our rulers is about the United States, but no reason the blood can't flow right across our wide, brown land too. Some decent rivers of blood would probably help a few drought-afflicted farmers.

Monday, September 14, 2015

Did my Abbott Roast tip Turnbull over? You be the judge.

FACT 1: In a matter of minutes, the #libspill is scheduled to start. Malcolm Turnbull is challenging Tony Abbott for Liberal leader and the right to rule over this wide brown land.

FACT 2: On the opening night of Sydney Fringe Comedy, just a couple of Tuesdays ago on September 1, I took part in the Roast of Tony Abbott -- in which four of us  "roasted" Prime Minster Tony Abbott as represented by the Abbott Impersonator Jonas Holt in an event MC'd by Comedy on Edge's Mark Williamson.

Now full credit to the other three "roasters" -- Julia Wilson (representing 52% of the population), Peter Green (playing windfarmer Trevor Gumboot) and Kevin Rudd (doing a reasonable Nathan Lentern impersonation, or maybe vice versa,  not sure, I'd been on the Coopers Red) -- they were all great, *sure*.
But is it a coincidence that this has happened after my *savage* attacks, representing Green Left Weekly, on our prime minister? Well... I'd been meaning to get around to chucking my comments on the night up on this blog, and the dramatic events tonight have forced me to act decisively.

You be the judge. (Also, whatever happens tonight you can still see Tony "Jonas" Abbott and Kevin "Lentern" Rudd and myself and others at the Green Left comedy debate "Team Australia Should Be Disqualified" at Leichhardt Town Hall on October 17).



[Coming out waving Abbott out placard]

“What do we want, Abbott out! When do we want it, now! What do we want Abbott out, when do we want it… [gesturing to audience to finish "now":] Alright, calm down, this is a roast not a revolution! We can start that as soon as this done.

So you’ve probably guessed. I’m the Young Liberal.

Actually, I am from Green Left Weekly and as an environmental busybody, I was going to chain myself to the podium [holds up chain] and refuse to leave until Tony Abbott resigns, but under his new welfare laws, I couldn’t afford a padlock.

Tony Abbott. What can I say about our prime minister that won’t get my citizenship stripped?

Well… they say the left is too negative, always “no” to this, “don’t do” that, so I wanted to focus on the positives. Tony Abbott has been very good for those of us in the community who like getting angry. For us rage addicts, he’s been brilliant. Something new every day, it’s been great.

He’s been great for the left-wing protest sector in general, getting us out of the house and onto streets. For many of the older activists from the ‘60s, all these marches provide some much needed exercise.

Tony’s also been very good for the left’s self-esteem. Because SURE, we might be getting screwed 17 ways by over-entitled over privileged hypocrites… but then again… at least WE’VE never tried to knight a duke! At least WE know how to eat a FUCKING ONION! Next time try using a frying pan, Tony, you useless dingbat.

Tony has also done sterling work providing access to education to those who may otherwise be excluded… true, only for his daughter Frances, but it’s a step in the right direction.

However, I while we all appreciate your efforts, Tony, in securing Melbourne’s borders, I have one suggestion to improve your Border Force tactics. If you are really determined to catch visa violaters, just get Liverpool FC to play another game at the MCG… then round up the 90,000 English visa overstayers who turn up… In fact, just lock the gates and you’ve got yourself a brand new detention centre.

Tony has shown us why we should never trust “inspirational quotes”, you know the sort of Facebook memes with quotes saying “Be yourself. Be who you are, look inside your heart and be the best you you can be”, which is fine… but what if you’re Tony Abbott?

By all appearances you’re an out of touch, poor hating misogynist homophobe! Tony… If you’re being yourself, for god’s sake STOP! Ignore the facebook memes! DO  not be the youest you you can possibly be!

Tony has also taught us that we’ve been reading the Bible wrong all these years. In an appearance on Q&A in the days before it became the propaganda arm of ISIS, Tony was asked what Jesus would do about boat people and he said… “Jesus understood that there was a place for everyone … and that place was not necessarily Australia…”

Tony… are you SURE that’s what Jesus said? I know you’re the proud captain of Team Australia… but I’m not sure we actually MADE it into the Bible.

Or maybe there’s a previously unpublished Gospel According to Tony in which the Sermon on the Mount ends with Jesus saying “and the coal miners shall inherit the Earth… oh before you go, don’t forget… there’s a place for everyone and everyone in their place…but not Australia for the likes of you …they don’t like your kind”.

Presumably in the Gospel according to Tony, in the story of the Good Samaritan, rather than actually helping the injured Jew on the side of the road, the Samaritan just starts KICKING him while shouting “FUCK OFF BACK TO JERUSALEM, JERICHO FULL!”

What IS IT, Tony, with you and torturing innocent people including children? I mean GOD it’s just so… ARRGHH [clutches heart] oh jesus… my doctor warned me not to do this gig… god damn, I’ll stop now for the same of my health… enjoy the rest of Tony Abbott's overlordship.

There you have it. Abbott's has survived a lot, but that savaging was obviously too much many of his Liberal Party colleagues. Whatever happens in about ..ah... 25 minutes time... Come along on October 17... Support a paper that is not in Murdoch's pocket... you can get tickets here.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

The Real James Hird Story -- The Carlo Sands Version Of Essendon's Supplements Scandal

'How the fuck did it all go so wrong?'
It seems to fans of AFL club Essendon like myself, the ongoing devastatingly destructive drama engulfing the godforsaken club is never gonna end.

Now Essendon coach James Hird has resigned after a turbulent coaching career marred by the ongoing "supplements scandal" over the "pharmacologically experimental" program of injections of various substances overseen by "cowboy" biochemist Stephen Dank that Essendon players were put through in 2012.

With WADA still appealing a ruling that had cleared Essendon players of wrongdoing earlier this year, and Essendon's on-field results making Tony Abbott's poll results look positive, it was probably inevitable Hird -- who has spent at least as much time in court as in the coaching box -- would have to go.

Australia's finest news source The (un)Australian has given its wrap up of Hird's coaching career. But so much of the real story of what the hell went on at the club has remained a mystery - especially, from my point of view, how my name has been kept out of the media for so long?

I mean, what have all the investigative journalists been doing? How the hell did Caroline Wilson win that damn Walkley?

Well.. I can exclusively reveal (take that Caro) that my name may not remain out of the story for much longer. A friendly "source" has leaked me the following transcript of a secret hidden camera recording that has emerged as part of WADA's evidence against the club.

Dating from January 2012, it throws light on the moment Hird began to serious consider the supplements program Dank had to offer, and, sure enough, it is the first decisive evidence that one "Carlo Sands" had a hand in the affair.

Now, 2011-12 was around the time of one of my infamous pear cider binges. So while I always figured I must have had something to do with this debacle, my memory was pretty vague.

Pear cider, as I know too well, is the Devil's own drink, and the only thing I can say in my defence for what the below transcript reveals is that Stephen Dank seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. But then your perceptions are pretty fucked when you're "on the pear".

I publish the transcript below so that all Essendon fans and fans of the game can know what truly happened -- and also because I like to highlight my key role in important events.


Many have wondered who introduced a character as dodgy as Stephen Dank to Essendon.


 [January 2012. James Hird in his office at Windy Hill, Carlo Sands bursts through the door with a dodgy looking bloke in a trench coat in tow.]

CARLO: Jimmy! [slaps Hird on the shoulder] Howyagoing? I got a great plan you're gonna wanna hear!

HIRD: [weary, as if this is a common occurence] What is it, Carlo? I am a bit busy right now, we're about to really get stuck into preseason...

CARLO: That's just it! I know just how to whip the boys into shape! And christ they need it, have you seen them? It's like they've consumed nothing but pints of Guinness over the entire off season!

HIRD: That's coz you put them on a Guinness-only diet! I can't believe you talked me in to appointing you Chief Off-Season Fitness and Well-Being Advisor, I never should have gone out with you for "just a couple" of pear ciders.

CARLO: Alright, let's not get into a slanging match over who did or did not get the squad totally smashed every day for four straight months, the point is I know how to turn this around, and quick! This is my mate Steve [points to dodgy trench coat bloke] Say hi to Jim.

DANK: [cackles loudly]

CARLO: Stevie's got this great program sure to bulk the players up. You know he worked with Cronulla in the NRL? Have you seen those lads? Christ, imagine Jobe bursting through a pack with a neck the size of Paul Gallen's!

HIRD: [sniffs] Have you been drinking?

CARLO: What? Maybe a couple, that's not the point! This is the answer to our problems! Basically, he's got these magic needles and you just inject them repeatedly into the boys and wow hey presto they're totally bulked up and shit!

HIRD: I don't know... it sounds a bit dodgy. Is it actually legal?

CARLO: Of course it is! Steve, tell Jim here about the legal situation.

DANK: [cackles loudly]

HIRD: Yeah... look Carlo, I appreciate you're trying to help, but...

CARLO: [leans over] He's also got some magic needle stuff that'll sort out your tan.

HIRD: What?

CARLO: Totally sort your tan. And totally natural looking, too.

HIRD: [trying to appear uninterested] This really all sounds very questionable...

CARLO: Oh come on James! There's no point hiding it! You're obsessed with your tan!

HIRD: I am not!

CARLO: Everyone talks about it! "There goes James Hird," they say, "a true champion of the modern game with five club best and fairests, two premierships and a Norm Smith and Brownlow medal under his belt... if only he didn't look so fucking pasty!"

HIRD: You swear this will work?

CARLO: Tell him Dank.

DANK: [cackles loudly.]

HIRD: Well...

CARLO: Then it's settled! Steve, bring your semi-trailer with the supplements around...we're in business!

DANK: [cackles loudly]


Yeah it is all coming back to me now reading that. Not one of my brightest ideas, I will concede. Sorry about that. Here is a song about the dangers of going out and drinking too much pear cider (may not mention pear cider specifically but all "pear heads" will get it).

'Light flashes and my mind goes numb. My head beats like a drum ...' Swedish bluesey pop singer Miss Li nails the essence of a sustained pear cider binge.