Sloths are fucking wicked

Animals, man. They rule. Other than drinking and smoking, another fine quality that should be part of everyone's lives is the desire to be around animals. I can't get enough of the cunts.

Few years ago, a girlfriend and I looked after a dog of a friend of hers for a couple of weeks. It was a toy-dog, some kind of little terrier I think, with long, lank greasy hair. I can't remember the breed. I fucking hated yappy little dogs, and was convinced they were all cunts. I was bitten by one on the knee when I was ten. Will I make a joke about that shitty old adage? No, I will not. Anyway, after a few days of me generally sneering and taking the piss out of the little bitch, one evening there was a mad thunderstorm, loud as fuck. I have never seen such a terrified creature in all my life. The dog yelped and shivered, trying to bury herself in the intractable corner of the kitchen, just fucking pulsing with fear. So anyway I took her up and comforted her and shit, and she slept on my bed that night. After that, we were all right. She was quite a laugh, when you got to know her.
Anyway, animals are good for the soul, and that is all.
Sirrah!

"Why are all those human cunts staring at me?" The Happy Sloth

One cunt to rule them all

It's happening. I've been on Demented Isle so long, my resolve is weakening. That stumpy little twat Frodo was fucked up by that gay ring. I am being fucked up by a powerful force they call 'Me-First'.

I am one polite cocksucker. I smile, I say please, I say sorry if someone steps on my foot, for God's sake. I am one self-effacing and considerate man. 'Me-First' is very powerful here. Oh yes. He creates chaos on the roads, over-bearing pomposity, a political system that is generally ridiculed, and myopic, selfish worldviews. Which applies to most everywhere, I suppose. Anyway, I conducted an experiment. I realised that I've spent my life stepping the fuck out of the way for people as I walk down the street, and couldn't discern if the courtesy was being reciprocated. So for a day I stopped doing it. In one day, I had given a man a dead arm, nearly got into a fight and knocked a halfling over. With countless bumpings of bags and arms. What, am I invisible? Eeaarrghh! Move out of the way, you cunts!!

I have now returned to my gentler ways, apart from when a halfling is in the 7-11, and I can push them over in relative peace. 'Me-First' still has his one good eye on me though. Oh yes.
Sirrah!

"One of the reasons that religion seems irrelevant today is that many of us no longer have the sense that we are surrounded by the unseen." Karen Armstrong

Addendum: Ever read Karen Armstrong's 'The History of God'? That book is beef man. I feel younger already! End of fucking addendum.

Wickedy-wick!

I am aging like a fine wine. Getting older is the business, and any cunt that whines about it has fulfilled their obligations viz a viz their total cuntitude. I just feel more grounded, which is puzzling since the world around me gets more abstract by the day - Michael Jackson's face for example. Since I am a solitary fucker who has lived halfway round the world from home for the last few years, I am out of the loop. Un-privied. On a disconnect. You're breaking up. Lost signaled. Away with the faeries. The last time I talked to my nephew, he was raving about a PS2 game. PS2 can burn in hell. X-Box is yer man. Anyway, he was like, "The game is beef, man, totally beef". My heart swelled with pride as I experienced juvenile slang I had never heard before - I was officially an old cunt. I bet I could thrash the little prick's ass at Tony Hawk though.

Although I probably won't frolic in this mortal coil for too much longer, since I've fucked my body flatter than hammered shit, and continue to do so, I am relishing the whole shebang more and more. There's a wonderful freeing from the shackles of doubt. I still call myself a cunt fifty times a day, but now it's with an affectionate, doting inflection, because, really, who gives a flying fuck? This is not to say I am subscribing to any post-modernist cack that cannot posit any notion worth dwelling on. Any chance? Piss on that. No, it's that as you shuffle through the years, you grow into yourself, hopefully, and heart-thumping fear subsides, and you can start ordering cunts about, confident in your seniority.

I, for one, have realized I am the most unambitious geezer. I have the aspirations of a mule. I don't want anything. Apart from not to be murdered, which would fucking suck.

Did you know that 70% of the universe is made up of dark matter, and scientists don't have a fucking clue what dark matter is? That, my friends, is what it's all about.
Sirrah!

"Wake up in the morning, I sip my cup, eyes get red, noone to help me". Bob Marley

Morbid Fascination

Western culture has been rimmed the fuck out, basically, hasn't it? Exemplified by the U.S. I can't look away. The corporate oligarchy has triumphed. The purported energy and vibrancy of that culture is an empty shell. Buy, consume, own things. America's mythic individualism is actually 'herdism', corporatism and technology, externalizing our lives, pissing all over that most precious interior journey and the life of the mind. Intellectualism derided as elitist, Forrest Gump and good ole boy Bush. A people turning to myth and magic as cognitive understanding is exiled. The heartland a methamphetamine-soaked Superfund, enraged, turning on itself like a snared hyena.

Thomas Frank, writing in an essay called 'Dark Age', says:
"The wiring of every individual into the warm embrace of the multinational entertainment oligopoly is ... the crowning triumph of the marketplace over humanity's unruly consciousness ... We will be able to achieve no distance from business culture since we will no longer have a life, a history, a consciousness apart from it ... It is putting itself beyond our power of imagining because it has become our imagination, it has become our power to envision, and describe, and theorize, and resist".

Microsoft and AT&T designing curricula for five year olds. Hollywood pumping out veiny red steaks of physical excitement, dripping with base adrenaline and pumped up on hormones, like milk that brings on puberty at eight years old. A third of the adult population obese, sucking on super-sized shakes, comforted like huge infants by corn-rich slop.

Forty-two percent of American adults cannot locate Japan on a world map. (Garrison Keillor)
15 percent cannot locate America.
40 percent of adults did not know that Germany was America's enemy in WW2. (New York Times)
50 percent of high school seniors were unaware of the Cold War. (DoE)
60 percent had no idea how the U.S came into existence. (DoE)
A survey of adults revealed that 63 percent believed that human beings lived at the same time as the dinosaurs. (National Science Foundation)
Of the 158 countries in the United Nations, the U.S ranked 49th in literacy. Roughly 60 percent of the adult population has never read a book of any kind. (Morris Berman)

Millions of people without power for the foreseeable future in Florida because of Wilma, and Jeb Bush calls them stupid for not stocking up, and it's not FEMA's job to help out. The horror of New Orleans, a people abandoned and worse off than before the civil rights movement.

America as a dual economy, rimmed the fuck out. I don't want to look, and can't look away.

The statistics above are from five years ago.

Learn who you are, and how the world works. Everything else can suck on a warm cock.
Sirrah!

"Sallust's description of Rome in 80 B.C - a government controlled by wealth, a ruling class numb to the repetitions of political scandal, a public diverted by chariot races and gladiatorial shows - in other words, a right sorry bunch of cunts."

Everything has shattered, and fallen away

"We're an Empire now, and when we act we create our own reality, and while you're studying that reality - judisciously - as you will, we'll act again, creating new realities ... we're history's actors, and you - all of you - will be left to just study what we do".
Unattributed quote from a senior cunt in the Bush Junta to a reporter - think Cheney, Rove or Rice. Andrew Card perhaps.

Have you seen HBO's Deadwood? It's the first DVD set I've ever bought. Ian Mcshane as Al Swearengen is pure genius. In the first scene of the series, a criminals' hanging is abruptly brought forward due to extenuating circumstances. With the noose around his neck, just before he steps off the stool, with spittle flying and total vehemence, he mirrors my reaction to the above quote: "FUCK. YOU."

Eisenhower was shit-scared of the military-industrial complex. One of his last speeches as President warned of it.

In 2002, Project Uncensored's number one under-reported story was the mission statement of The Project for a New American Century ; PNAC. (Now the U.S administration) . Decades before 9/11, the vast imperialist desires of cunts like these was explicit, the de-stabilisation of the Middle East, and control of it's oil, and control of the filthy dollar in which black-gold is traded. (I like Hugo Chavez's move recently of moving his country's cash the fuck out of the States). One thing was needed - "A catastrophic and catalyzing event, like a New Pearl Harbour".

Google Prescott Bush. George McCuntyFucks Grandfather, and his close relationship with the Third Reich.

Noone fucking creates my reality. I am that shitty actor Keanu Reeves in the Matrix all fucked up and slimy falling out of his fucking pod. Christ that guy can't act for shit. Employ rigorous intuition, and mull over the old chestnut of a small elite craving world domination. The Bilderberg meetings. American media in the pocket of the CIA. Stuff like the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff ordering that he be left in his office, undisturbed and alone, for the duration of 9/11. He was obeyed.

Others are queazy when Hitler/McCunty/PNAC comparisons are made. I most certainly am not. Similarities between this moment and late 30's Germany is fucking eerie. No other President in U.S history has ever made speeches in military uniform, ever. Military-industrial poster-boy. Fuck Plamegate. Libby or some cunt will be indicted, and the rest of them will be unindicted co-conspirators, who will be pardoned by Chimpy McCunt a la Iran-Contra. And the whole happy clusterfuck will continue.

Decide who you are, and what your reality is. Because, and be sure of this; at every turn, either by bold-faced audacity, ommission or simple most evil ignorance, you are being lied to.

There are now over 30,000 lobbyists employed in D.C. Up more than half since 1999.

Let's party like it was.
Sirrah!

"What's the fucking point?" A perfect morning salutation. A guy from Bath would greet me with it every morning on paradise isle, as we passed each other going to/from breakfast, with beatific smiles, shocked by the beauty.

George Bush is a nimrod!

Ha! Fooled you. I was going to write about that sorry sack of shit but you know what? I am not a self-flagallating glutton for punishment, like those cunts in Opus Dei. I am in a 'could not give two good fucks' mood. Also I must have my thoughts in some sort of order to consider Chimpy for any length of time. Dwelling on that particular personage will fuck you up.
Instead, let me say this. TV is fucking poison! Not the most original observation, but it bears reiteration, and I am the one reiterating, you little bitches. Cancel your cunting cable. Give your satellite dish and your set-top box, or whatever it is you obsessed passive-consuming cunts use nowadays, away. Don't sell it. Think I'm asking too much? Well don't think about that, think about what I'm fucking telling you to do. Jesus, is there any chance?

The less people who see TV as a source of information, a nicer place the world would be. Is that fucking twee enough for you? And if TV shapes your understanding of world events, wake up or be fucked.
Sirrah!

"I have a 42" plasma-screen TV with surround sound, and it rules!" You, if you had any money.

Addendum: TV should only ever be used to watch DVD's or play X-Box. End of fucking addendum.

My dog is a fucking stoner!

His name is Ollie, and he's about two years old. He is a Siberian Husky, and is as soft as shite. I've been in about four full-on fights with local street dogs, trying to protect the bastard. The local cats are plotting against him also.

I try not to smoke cigarettes when he is in the same room as, like all dogs, he hates the smoke. If I have skinned-up however, he will come and lie near me. He will shyly watch that hashish cigarette being passed between myself and my friend. I will ask him if he wants a toke. He will, of course, say fuck-all.

I will get a fucking good lung full and blow it gently around his head. He will turn away slightly like a right haughty cunt, savouring the resinous aroma. He loves it. He will then spend the next couple of hours amusing himself quietly in the living room, throwing a small piece of rawhide bone around pretending it's a fish or something.

There was a few friends around once. Cunts were skinning-up, and Ollie was lying beside me. As I was holding forth with an inspired conversational gem, I absent-mindedly held out the spliff to my left, and carried on talking. When noone took it, I looked to my side scowling. I was offering it to Ollie, who was looking at me questioningly. I know what he was thinking. He was thinking, "You are a dimwitted fool. Now blow some of that shit over this way, you opposable-thumbed cunt you".
Sirrah!

"Eminem has electrified the English language, and I haven't." Seamus Heaney

kill them. kill them all.

You have a choice. There is a dog and a kid. The man with the rusty saw says one of them gets it, upon your word. The other lives. If you are anything like me, you are leaving with the dog.
Kids. I fucking abhor them. My school has learnt to keep children away from my classroom.

They are snivelling wretches, and I can feel their underlying torment as halflings if they are near me. I fucking hated being a kid. I was painfully aware of my embryonic consciousness at every second. It was like being paraplegic but aware of all around you. It was an urgent, constant voice that said, "Wake up you pea-brained little puke you!"
If you have kids, I pity you. If your kid comes near me, I will not harm it, but be compelled to move away. And if there's one thing I hate, it's being compelled to do anything. Kids will fuck you up.
Sirrah!

"When kids are near: caution. They are devious little fucks" Lao Tzu

I fucking love animals by the way

Which is a right bastard since here on Demented Isle they treat animals like shit. Either as purely guard-dogs or for prestige. And it breaks my fucking heart. Several dogs in my neighbourhood are in cages 24/7 and are never walked. Humans are cunts. There's a female puppy Beagle in a cage down the street owned by a young couple. They are out most of the day. I have to check each afternoon to make sure she has water - most often she doesn't.

This is one of the main reasons I have to leave the Demented Isle. Thirsty dogs. Christ.

"If you don't love animals, you are a total cunt". Mahatma Ghandi.
Sirrah!

Vignettes of pain and lucky escapes

Here are some fun facts about me and my life:
I am 35, and I am a lucky bastard.
I managed never to become a junky, unlike a good few of my friends.
I lived in Holland for six years. One Friday night I headed into Amsterdam on my own. When I returned to the house, my friends started to press me on what the fuck I had been doing. I told them it was only Sunday evening. They informed me it was in fact Tuesday evening. To this day I have no idea what the fuck I could have been doing.
I was given a good going over by a couple of gangsters with baseball bats, and escaped with bruised ribs.
I've met Martin Sheen, and kissed Macy Gray (on the cheek).
I once had to talk to a pig outside a rave with 2 E's sizzling on the back of my tongue.
After a flight from Thailand, copious amounts of red wine and 2 valium, I fell down a 25-step marble staircase in my house, splatting the crown of my head at the bottom. I needed only 4 stitches on my pate.
My alcoholic father once threw me, a three year old, into a bed of nettles.
I worked in the best restaurant on a Thai island.
I was skateboarding on a winter's night in a deserted carpark in Holland. Trying to do a 180, I slammed and cracked my head. I don't know how long I was out. I didn't sleep that night to make sure my brain wasn't bleeding. Motto: don't go skate on your own, especially if you are shite.
I got a tattoo in Barcelona from I guy who was drunker than I was.
I cried when I stood in front of La Sagrada de Familia. Gaudi rules.
I have run naked around a monument in the middle of a major roundabout in E.Asia. It was for a bet.
Another head trauma: as an 11 year-old, I ran, full pelt, into a telegraph pole, which had been placed inconveniently in the middle of our footy pitch in the local park. This time I know how long I was out - 15 minutes. After I bounced off the pole, I stood up, said, "Jesus Christ, help me", before promptly collapsing.
Playing rugby at secondary school got tackled by a big bastard called Nigel. His ear was right next to my left collar-bone when it snapped clean in two. He puked.
Having split-up with a woman in Holland, I underestimated Dutch ire. I opened the door after the bell had rung, in an unguarded moment. She instantly booted me in the nuts, bringing me to my knees. She finished me off with a flourish - a meaty wack to the jaw. I was down. She left.
There was period of about a year when the only E's around were called snowballs (early 90's). If you stayed up for 3-4 days caning them, some serious mind-shit would go down. Minutes long conversations believing you were a tv producer, in my case. (I worked on a potato farm at the time). For my friends; recording label executive, professional snooker player, and gardener.
Around the same time, on a Monday afternoon (after kicking off the previous Thursday), a group of about eight people sat in my apartment staring at the TV. It was after about twenty minutes that someone realized it wasn't turned on.
A poem I wrote is on a plaque next to an ancient Welsh burial site.
My gold Claddagh ring once prevented my finger from being severed.
I was famous for being able to make tea for twenty people while utterly mashed up.
Six years in Holland smoking skunk will fuck you up.
One of my favorite phrases is, 'That cunt's a prick'.
Only one person knows I've created this blog. Hope this makes her laugh, or something.
Sirrah!

Oh dear Christ - what have you done, you utter cunt?

If you landed here, and are reading this, I pity the fuck out of you. Anyway, I suppose you've fucked off by now so I can get on talking to myself, and tell me what I'm in to:

Erudite, but completely profane discourse, so if you're the sort of cunt who dismisses, or objects to, that sort of thing, you can fuck off.
Drinking.
Smoking.
Unlearning.
Fucking politics.
Pretty constantly throughout my 35 year stint I've also found that I have a natural talent for not quite knowing what the fuck I am doing, hence this awful bollocks.
And why, by the way, am I explaining myself to you?
This is my first ever attempt at blogging, and I know fuck all about it; and I'll tell you something else: pointy women's shoes are fucking awful. I hate them with a passion. I've an eye for everything, and that shit is wrong. I've been travelling for five years, and if I go home and find any of my female friends rocking them, I will kill myself.
If you have read this far, you are a complete cunt, and should post a comment.