TONGUE OF THE DAY

The Australian Sex Party do good …

George Pell would not approve. Tom Lehrer on the other hand …

GAY THINGS

You will have rugs, fabulous, fabulous rugs.

Here are some words from a letter in the Sydney Morning Herald of June 25^th, 2016 …

“ … for those who have chosen to live under God’s rule it would be wrong to marry someone of the same sex. … unlawful in God’s sight … negative consequences …sin …God’s standards … our world is worse off when we ignore His will … God’s laws … “

Gay marriage will not find, or lose you a job.

Gay marriage will not increase the price of groceries, clothing, electricity, gas, water, rent or housing. It will not increase or lower interest rates, or your taxes. It will not raise or lower the price of stocks. Gay marriage will not blow you up, shoot you or rape you, or your children, if you do not want to be gay. Gay marriage will not send you to war, then praise you and promptly forget about you when (or if) you return. It will not compulsorily acquire your home for a highway, chop down your trees, poison your water, or excavate your backyard for a mine. Gay marriage will not cut your aged or disability pension, defund women’s refuges, slash arts funding, privatise Medicare, the ABC and SBS, or dismiss the elderly as an ageing burden or youth as shiftless layabouts. It will not cause you to be regarded a worthless, bludging parasite on the face of humanity if, for whatever reason, you are unemployed or physically or mentally ill. Gay marriage will not shriek at you as if you are stupid and cannot tell fact from fiction. Gay marriage will not destroy the public health system, public education, public transport or public infrastructure in order to make a quick quid, and then expect you to be grateful.

We have governments for these.

Gay marriage may make some a little grumpy or tetchy in the head for a bit because they subscribe to a belief system or ideology which they feel everybody else should subscribe to whether they want to or not, but they will live and their dog/and or cat will continue to like them and ask them for food.

Gay marriage will cause a sharp and sudden spike in demand for marriage celebrants, function and reception halls, the hiring of, hotel rooms, caravan parks, perhaps tents, hiking gear, flannel shirts (?), caterers, caterers who require food so that they may cater, from butchers, grocers, bakers, bought from suppliers who buy the food from producers, icing sugar and dried fruits and little plastic bits and pieces, figurines and flowers perhaps, flowers, yes, flowers from florists who source them from producers, there will be waiters, servers, general staff and managers to manage them in the function and reception halls that have been hired and paid for, possibly recommended to others, possibly not.

There will be clothes to be bought, furniture, bits and pieces of this and that, premises to rent, premises to buy, things to change, labourers and tradesmen hired to change them, labourers and tradesman who will purchase their tools and their materials in order to labour and to trade from those who supply them from those who produce them.

There will be rugs, fabulous, fabulous rugs, and there will be “You are NOT putting that there” and there will be “You haven’t said anything, is it good or bad?” and there will be, “No, I like it, it’s soup, it’s nice”, and there will be “I don’t care if you don’t like it, you can tell me”, and there will be “I’m telling you” and “What, you don’t like it?”, “No! Yes! The fu – You know what I mean, it’s fine, for God’s sake”, and then there will be stony silences and stolen, sulky glances and “Oh, I don’t know” and “I’m sorry”, “That’s okay”, “Are you sure?”, “Yes, I’m fine. What do you want for dinner?”, “We’ll go out. I feel like going out, why don’t we see a movie as well, I like … ” and “Yes, I’ve heard of that, it’s supposed to be good”, and there’ll be rugs, fabulous, fabulous rugs, and there’ll be , “That would look nice in the hallway. And the price, for what it is. I think we should get it”, “Yeah, fine, I want to go look at some DVD’s after this, did you feed the dog?”, “Yes”.

There will be.

“You know where I’d like to go for our 10th anniversary?”

“Am I mind reader? Let me guess. No, I give up. Tell me or I’ll shoot the dog.”

“Slovenia”.

” … “

“No, wait … “

” … “

Flights to be booked, people to book them, hotel rooms, the catering, this and that, from thee and thou, that and this, bits and pieces, “This would look nice in the … “, “The fucking hallway, yes, the hallway, Jesus”, “You’re impossible”, “Yeah, fine, I want to look at some DVD’s after this, did you text home about the dog?”, “Yes”.

Gay marriage.

It will either make us stronger, or kill us all.

But there will be rugs, fabulous, fabulous rugs!

DICKHEAD

Here are some words from an article typed by a dickhead …

“regressive left”
“lofty liberal ideals espoused by such leftists and their sordid output”
“regressive leftist denouncers of “Islamophobia””
“regressive leftists”
“regressive leftists”
“turncoat pseudo-liberals”
“progressive journalists”
“regressive leftists”
“regressive leftist attacks”
“So-called progressives”
“those who mouth liberal shibboleths”

A “theme” emerges.

The article was typed by one Jeffrey Taylor in defence of Ayaan Hirsi Ali, a woman who, as Taylor notes, ”suffered genital mutilation, donned the hijab and joined the Muslim Brotherhood, escaped a forced marriage and fled Africa for Holland, mastered Dutch and earned a graduate degree from a prestigious university, abandoned Islam after the 9/11 attacks awakened her intellectually, got herself elected to the Dutch parliament, publicly denounced the abuse suffered by immigrant Muslim women in Holland, wrote the screenplay for a short film about misogyny in Islam (for which its director, Theo van Gogh, was murdered by an Islamist in Amsterdam and for which his killer condemned her to death as well), found herself (following controversy over her asylum status) immigrating, in 2006, to the United States (where she was welcomed by Deputy Secretary of State Robert Zoellick as a “very courageous and impressive woman”), and established a foundation to protect women from honor killings and aid women’s development globally.”

For someone like Hirsi Ali, having endured, suffered and survived these deprivations, I very much doubt she needs “defending” by some random knobhead for whom the non-word “leftist” appears to be something of a nervous tic.

Whilst I am familiar with her name, I have not read Hirsi Ali’s books, and I have only read one book from a so-called New Atheist, Christopher Hitchens’ “God Is Not Great”, a dreary, tedious dummy-spit from a (by then) ageing irrelevancy who makes his point in the introduction, then proceeds to repeat it for several hundred pages.

I get it.

Shut. Up.

I no more need to read a book instructing me as to why religion of any brand is dangerously destructive and violent nonsense, than I need to read one which tells me it is not.

I drew my own conclusions by my own volition, not through teachings or instruction of any kind from anybody, but from sheer observance, observance of human nature and behaviour, observance from an early age, and these conclusions led me to the decision (as opposed to the “belief” or “non-belief”) that religion, faith, ideology, belief itself, is bollocks.

I do not need to believe in a chair in order to sit on it, nor do I need believe in a footpath in order to walk it. Things are what they are until they are not, and this is mine, not yours, nor a criticism of yours, nor of anybody else, but could you kindly keep it to your fucking selves and fuck off with it.

Please?

The “leftist” thing, this non-word.

It has come to prominence these last several years, used mostly by rightists, conservativists and libertarianists (yes, you saw what I did there), the likes of Taylor, Andrew Fucking Bolt, Gerard Henderson, Rowan Dean, and others of their ilk, chiefly as means of describing those who they do not agree with and who do not agree with them, on all manner of things, whether these things be religious, political or social in nature, a dull and lazy label, used in and with contempt, the easier to dismiss a person or people with, rather than engage with anything those people say or do …

The “Catholic”. Robes. Ceremony. Rape.

The “Jew”. Greed.

The “Muslim”. Terrorist.

The “Feminist”. Castrator.

The “Single Mother”. Whore.

And so on and so forth.

I do not live a “left-wing” life or “right-wing” life, I have no idea what that would entail.

How I like my coffee (flat white, no sugar) is not a political statement. Where I have worked, for whom, and the nature of it these last forty years, no. Where I have lived, no. What I eat (anything mostly, Indian, Italian yes please thanks), no. My race (Caucasian), nationality (Australian), no. My sexuality (heterosexual, not a “lifestyle” choice, no). My taste in music, books, movies, art, no.

If you were to ask me my “religion”, I would answer “None”. If then you were inclined to label me an “atheist” or an “agnostic”, I would say no, do not presume to assign me a label so that you may “process” my existence on this earth or in your presence, no, get fucked. If you were to ask me my politics, I would say, “I don’t know what that means, I have no politics, I’m a fucking person”, no.

I am not a Marxist for agreeing with this, no …

“The final stages of capitalism, Marx wrote, would be marked by developments that are intimately familiar to most of us. Unable to eaxpand and generate profits at past levels, the capitalist system would begin to consume the structures that sustained it … It would, as it has, increasingly relocate jobs, including both manufacturingand professional positions, to countries with cheap pools of laborers. Industries would mechanise their workplaces … Politics would in the last stages of capitalism become subordinate to economics, leading to political parties hollowed out of any real political content and abjectly subservient to the dictates and money of global capitalism”

You can see it, it’s there, yes.

No ideology. Observance. Reason. Logic. Facts.

From Taylor’s article (my emphasis)…

“It’s about power, and Islam is a political movement … the Christian powers have accepted the separation of the worldly and the divine.  We don’t interfere with their religion, and they don’t interfere with the state.  That hasn’t happened in Islam.”

Now that’s just being deliberately fucking thick, yes.

Your religion, your beliefs?

They’re yours. Keep them. Use them for yourself.

I choose, do you understand that, I choose not to share them, to pay them no lip-service, to be no apologist for crimes committed in their name, in the name of faith, a Messiah, a Prophet, this and that, mean nothing to me and never will, so save your fucking time and energy. For yourself.

Leftist. Leftard. Libtard. Bleeding Heart. Liberal (small “l”). Socialism. Marxism, Catholic, Jew, Muslim, this and that.

What do these things even mean, what are they expected to, in the face of a life lived in a world completely oblivious to them, these absurd, ridiculous, artificial constructs of fantasy, nonsense, belief, faith in a symbol, a thing, one person to whom you are so eager to submit, to surrender, and then demand others to do same at the threat of violence, banishment, an eternity of suffering, punishment, exorcism from civilisation, so-called.

To return to and borrow from Taylor’s creative typing “tic”, for those who “mouth” ideological “shibboleths”?

Just fuck off.

…

…

…

In comments? Don’t even think about it.

FUCKWIT

A fuckwit blew away the lives of fifty people the other night in a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida.

The fuckwit took a gun, a firearm, as easy to operate as a cigarette lighter, as cheap as a toaster, and whose only purpose is to make holes in human beings, and proceeded to put holes in dozens of human beings, at a whim, because it could, because anybody could, and they often do, because they are fuckwits.

This particular fuckwit, a nothing, a nobody, forgotten and forsaken, ignored, wanted to be somebody, but didn’t have the talent, didn’t have the intelligence, and if no one would let it be a somebody, then it wouldn’t let them be a somebody either.

So it blew them away.

This fuckwit wanted to be a big deal, a boss, a master, a power to be reckoned with, an authority to be obeyed. It wanted to be the “King of the Castle”, the “Master of Its Domain”, but it couldn’t even manage to master its own fucking laundry.

Fuckwit.

In the aftermath of this fuckwit’s fuckwittery, various individuals, in media, and from the world of politics and religion are attempting to analyse the mind and motives behind this fuckwit’s actions, despite the fuckwit being dead, having had holes punched through it by police on the night.

The fuckwit was mentally ill, they say, a psychosis. The fuckwit was homophobic. The fuckwit was a Muslim.

The fuckwit was gay.

Our Prime Minister took a moment of his own time to remind us how events such as these are cause for us all to remain vigilant against threats to our way of life, a “strong, ever-present threat”, in this, an election year. Classy guy. A Family First fundamentalist tweeted along the lines of “aw gee shucks, but gay marriage something something children”. In the United States, a rat-faced orange hair-plug spoke of conspiracies, in this, an election year. A preacher preached “that there’s 50 less pedophiles in this world, because, you know, these homosexuals are a bunch of disgusting perverts and pedophiles.” And so it went, and so it shall go, tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow.

This commentary, this fevered conjecture and speculation as to the state of mind of a fuckwit, a dead fuckwit, all seems a little too self-serving to my own mind, the agendas of those choosing to publicly participate repulsively transparent, too righteously self-important, theories about theories about the why’s, how’s and what’s which rattled the mind of a fuckwit, a now (thankfully) dead fuckwit, and set it upon its course of mass murder.

What I do know, is that forty-nine men and women, gay men and women, men and women of a specific community, the LGBTI community were murdered, and over fifty others from that same community are wounded, and many of those may never recover, physically and/or psychologically.

Because of a fuckwit.

A fuckwit.

We need to call out the fuckwits in our midst, regardless of race, creed, colour or religion, we need to call them out when they say or do fucked-up things about or to people who would simply like the freedom to live their lives, love whom they choose to love, and go about their business in peace.

Which is pretty much most of us.

If the recollections of those who knew it are anything to go by, fuckwit had been a fuckwit for most of its fucked up life, schooled in the dark arts of general fuckwittery, misogyny and homophobia from an early and impressionable age by its male parent, another fuckwit.

Fuckwit took steroids, we know that, steroids being guaranteed to bulk up the body whilst shrinking the brain, not that there seemed much to shrink to begin with. Fuckwit beat and abused its first wife, held her hostage, treated her as its slave until she left four months after the marriage begun. Fuckwit had a bunch of go-nowhere jobs and went nowhere in them, those who worked with it kept clear of it, thought it was a fuckwit best avoided. Fuckwit hung out at the gay nightclub it shot up for a couple years, it used gay dating apps, yet, it would seem, nobody wanted to fuck the fuckwit let alone talk to it, no doubt because fuckwit wore its fuckwittery on its forehead and on its sleeve, and they probably thought to themselves, “There’s something a bit suspect about this fuckwit, something not quite right, something strange going on tonight, this fuckwit’s a bit off, this fuckwit’s wired.”

I don’t want to write about this fuckwit anymore, fuck it, 782 words are enough.

781 more than it deserves.

The one it does deserve?

Fuckwit.

IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT AND I FEEL FINE

It is the mid-1980’s and I am working for a company in Sydney’s Pyrmont, a record company. There is the pressing plant, warehouse and recording studios downstairs, and two floors of offices above. On the ground floor is a canteen.

The canteen is managed by a young man named Gary, an affable, softly spoken and gentle man of good humour, and he is happy in his work, he is content. He is responsible for most of the food prep each day, the hot meals, and makes the sandwiches during lunch hours, along with two others who assist.

Gary is a gay man, which is no secret among the staff, and appears to be of no concern.

Then, suddenly. …

There is change.

A.I.D.S.

The “gay cancer”, they began to call it. The wrath of a vengeful God. Punishment for our transgressions, our sins. It is predicted that cities will crumble and towers fall, Satan and his vile and corrupted clutch of sordid cacodemons shall stalk the earth, leaving naught in their wake but barren and fruitless wastelands, the flesh of babes in arms shall be ripped asunder, devoured, men and women raped in the streets, and we shall see darkness and we shall feel pain.

Gary’s in the canteen making sandwiches. He’s in the canteen handling foodstuffs.

A contingent of staff approach management to raise their concerns.

How they expressed them, I do not know, but I suspect it went a little something like this …

“What if he sneezes, or coughs? On our food? Food we are expected to eat?”

“What if he breathes on us?”

“What if he cuts himself and bleeds all over my devon and tomato sauce sandwich? How would I know?”

And so on.

The management acquiesce to these “concerns”.

Gary is transferred from the canteen to the warehouse.

One day, I return to work from lunch at the pub, and I see Gary sitting on a rafter in the warehouse, lost in a reverie, and from the expression on his face, faraway eyes, it is a sad reverie indeed.

I wave to him.

“How are you, Ross?”, he asks.

“Not bad. Yourself?”

“Oh. You know”, and he shrugs.

After a moment, I say to him, “I think it’s fucking shit what’s happened. It’s shit.”

He shrugs again, says nothing, nods, and I return to my desk seething with rage.

I am not a gay man.

None of my best friends are gay, nor have they ever been.

Yet. In the course of my life, the living of it in this world, I have met many gay men and women, through work, socialising, friends of friends, friends of flatmates, and the only thing I can or ever could say about these gay men and gay women is this …

They are men and women.

If there is a “gay agenda”, they’re either taking a bloody long time to implement it, or I’m too thick to have noticed.

During my adolescence, my emergent sexuality, a sexuality I didn’t, at age 13, know was even sexual in nature, was not and never has been the subject of debate. It was not a “lifestyle choice”. It was not a choice.

My eye turned, with no prompting, no lessons in “decency” or “morality” toward women.

There was Peggy Lipton from “The Mod Squad”. Susan Dey from “The Partridge Family” (the only reason I watched that ghastly show). A little later on, there was Suzi Quatro. In leather. Oh. My. GOD. And, when Countdown (in error) first played Blondie’s “In The Flesh”, and I clapped eyes on Deborah Harry, my jaw dropped so hard, I almost tipped off the couch.

I wanted to play with the girls, although at that age, if the opportunity had arisen, I doubt I would’ve known what the game was, let alone how to play it.

That all came a little later. So to speak.

Decades after the A.I.D.S. epidemic, a residue, a sticky, mucky, thick and filthy residue of the gay fear and loathing of that time still persists in the minds of many; small minds, tiny minds, minds uncomplicated and untroubled by fact, truth, reason or logic.

Here is one example, a one star review of the film “Spotlight” from Amazon.com …

“Just too @&(%^ PC. They let their wish to sell homosexuality as normal get in the way of the truth. The truth is, first, that heterosexual rape and abuse of children is at least as common in public schools and non-Catholic religious institutions as it ever was in Catholic ones. Second, the rape and abuse going on in the Catholic Church was unusually homosexual and committed by homosexuals, period. The data is overwhelming that homosexual men are far more likely than heterosexual to be rapist or abusers. Even though homosexuals are at most 4% of the population, they commit at least of third of the sex offenses against children. And, the Catholic Church was one of those institutions targeted for exploitation by gays and by child rapists (or people who were both). Check out the data from the Family Research Council and in Michael Rose’s Goodbye Good Men. This weird, childish film tries to vilify all religion, tries to sell a “traumatized” gay victim as otherwise normal, tries to separate the rapists’ homosexuality from their crimes, and bascially is peddling dangerous myths and mind games.”

Peadophiles. Polygamy. Bestiality. Perversion. Diseased. Disgusting. Queer.

Filthy fucking faggots.

To be gay is to be less than human, they say. It’s abnormal. It’s sick. It is an affront to God, to civil society, a self-indulgent depravity, a disease of the mind and a corruption of the body and of the soul.

So some say.

I say this. To those “men”, those “women”, so fearful, so full of hatred, of ignorance, guided as they are by ancient superstitions in a nonsensical fiction written by men in frocks, “Go fuck yourselves with forty sticks and die of fucking cancer”.

These men in frocks.

They’re at it again …

“Australia’s most senior Catholic bishops have intervened in the federal election, warning Malcolm Turnbull and Bill Shorten not to undermine traditional marriage.

Marriage and family are at the heart of a healthy social environment, the ACBC states, but “political decisions can end up undermining marriage and providing less and less support for families despite a rhetoric that claims otherwise”

“The fact is that economic decisions have been less and less favourable to families in recent years; and it may be that political decisions in the future will undermine further the dignity and uniqueness of marriage as a lifelong union of man and woman,” the bishops say.”

“A lifelong union of man and woman”, it has never been and never will.

I wonder what they think of Rupert Murdoch or James Packer, these bishops?

These defenders of truth, these moral bastions, so pure, so righteous, so convinced of their own infallible judgements, their Holy institution so transparent, so accountable, so just, devoted as they are to peace among men (not so much the women, especially women, or – gasp – girls in trousers).

I have no quarrel with religion or those of faith who find comfort and solace in their beliefs in times of trouble or turmoil, those whose faith is a bedrock, a foundation upon which they build their lives.

I have quarrel only with those who use their faith as a hammer with which to beat those of no faith, or those whose lives they deem to be … “wrong”, especially when it comes to matters of sexuality, consensual acts between adults, gay, straight or transgender, or the issue of women’s reproductive rights, of choice.

How dare these bishops lecture government, lecture us on how we should live, how and who we should love.

These bishops.

Are these the very same men, who for decade upon decade, cloaked the sins of their own ilk in silence and obfuscation? Are these bishops the very same men who protected the fiddlers on the altar within their ranks, the ones with children always on their minds, the ones who leave stains upon their garments and stains upon the souls and bodies and in the mouths of innocents, and who remain unrepentant, without conscience, empty, soiled, damned?

Would they had but one neck, I would HACK. IT. THROUGH.

I ask these bishops.

Your God. Why did It give us desire, just so you may use it to prove we are the ones depraved?

Go to Hell.

You bishops.

Go to Hell.

YOU’RE LIKE A RAINBOW

Hello.

My name’s Lyle Shelton*.

I’m the Managing Director of The Australian Christian Lobby.**

We are urgently calling on the Australian Federal Government to temporarily over-ride anti-discrimination laws during the upcoming plebiscite campaign on whether same-sex marriage should or should not be legalised.

As you know, we are strong advocates for a “no” vote, but I would like to stress and reassure you all that we are not urging this action to say anything even remotely bigoted, nor would we consider doing so under any circumstances, but simply be allowed to put forward our argument, which is millennia-old, that marriage should only exist between a man and a woman, and that we be permitted to speak fairly and freely on this during the campaign without vilification or being subjected to the extremely low threshold strictures of our current anti-discrimination laws.

We are not going to be bullied by the gay lobby’s hate language into meekly surrendering our position against this proposed legislation which seeks only to normalise risky and unnatural behaviours as a so-called lifestyle “choice”. We know, and studies have shown time and time again, that health statistics among the gay community are worse than those for smokers, that choosing a homosexual lifestyle is more likely to place you in peril of excessive drug-taking, careless promiscuity, mental health disorders and suicide. That is the very nature of the homosexual lifestyle, and that is what it mostly entails.

Our children are forever being bombarded with and exposed to the hotly contested social and political agendas of the gay community, where “rainbow politics” are time and time again relentlessly imposed upon them and expected to be recognised as “normal”, regardless of the views of the parents. We have schools now openly encouraging children to cross-dress, to study gay and lesbian sexual techniques, anal sex and so on, and to view these behaviours in the context of innocent “experimentation”, rather than what it is, potentially damaging in the extreme if not life-threateningly catastrophic.

These children will become our new “Stolen Generation”, robbed of their very biological identity, and denied the stability and certainty that only marriage between a man and woman can provide.

This whole campaign, has, from the start, been nothing more than a remorseless, insidious and febrile assault on Christian family values, Australian values, the rights of a child to grow up in a loving, protected environment, an assault that Joseph Goebbels would be have been proud of, on long-held, long-respected sacred traditions and institutions.

It is an assault, orchestrated by the gay lobby, the Left and the liberal mainstream media, on the freedom of religious liberty in Australia, an aggressive secularism dressed in the fashionable moral cause of anti-discrimination which seeks not just to transform our values, but drive religion from our lives, from our very culture, and into the shadows, if not destroy it altogether.

It is a form of sexual Stalinism that is being proposed here, elevating unnatural habits and lifestyles of self-indulgent depravity and excess to a form of religion in itself, and doing so in the name of so-called “equality”, simply to satiate the desires and expectations of a noisily insistent few.

In other words, we are on the brink of institutionalising a form of sexual behaviour, often destructively compulsive, that is, by its very nature, medically and morally problematic, and we are on the brink of institutionalising it by trashing one of the most essential foundations of our society, trashing a child’s intrinsic right to both a mother and a father, and crushing a parent’s right to teach their child right and wrong as they know it, and we are on the brink of doing this simply as an act of psychotherapy for depressed and frustrated homosexuals.

As I said in the beginning, we are not urging the Federal Government to suspend the current anti-discrimination laws so that we may indulge in bigotry and cant, cheap shots or name-calling.

We simply request the right for our argument to be heard and to be put to the Australian people in a rational, reasoned and well thought out manner for the benefit of all concerned, most crucially our children and future generations of Australian men and women, fathers and mothers, husbands and wives.

*No, it’s not.
**No, I’m not.

NO, WE DO NOT NEED TO “TALK” ABOUT ISLAM

Just recently, I spied yet another column of commentary in one of those comic books with horoscopes oft referred to as “newspapers” imploring us, we, the populace in general, to “talk” about Islam, which is to say, talk about terrorism and the small clutch of adolescent sots who, on occasions, take leave of the little sense they have to gibber about blowing people up and other such nonsense. That, on occasions, they succeed in their aims provides perfect fodder for Rupert’s comic books – a squawking headline about SO BIG, an appalling pun, and the throwing about of words like “evil” and “terror” and “threats” to public safety lurking ‘round every street corner.

The “We need to talk about Islam” meme typically comes from opinion pieces compiled by the typing monkeys who work for these aforementioned comic books and boils down, in most cases, to this …

“I don’t like your religion, and I don’t like you and I wish you’d all piss off because you’re all fucking crazy”.

These monkeys are often aided and abetted in their cause by various politicians and public figures of a conservative bent, such as former Prime Minister Tony Abbott, a man seemingly now intent upon going the full vagina every time he plops himself into public view to rattle his sabres and flap his budgie at us all.

The “We need to talk about Islam” meme is similar in tone, if not downright identical at times to the “We need to talk about multiculturalism” topic which crops up occasionally, because the person wanting to “talk” thinks – nay – knows it (multiculturalism) doesn’t work and besides, they get nervous ‘round niggers, chinks and spicks and such and keep wondering where all the white folk have gone, which is probably down the local Thai joint for a larb gai and lassi for tea.

There’s also the “We need to talk about abortion” thing, a thing usually “talked” about by those self-styled warriors for the unborn who, when they’re not banging on about the sanctity of life, have a tendency to lurk outside family planning clinics harassing anyone who dares enter, or, depending the country you’re in, blowing holes through people’s heads with shotguns because, well … sanctity of life and all that.

As one of those individuals who comprise a “we”, I do wish these other “we’s” would shut up and keep their chatter between their silly conspiratorial selves and leave the rest of us the fuck alone.

But, alas no.

Article after article, column after column, commentary piled atop commentary, all of it essentially urging “we” should all “talk” about the same damned thing, even if we don’t know anything about it … but, goddammit, we sure as heck need to do some talkin’ ‘bout it because, well … some of them folks are doing some mighty crazy shit and, well … you know, talkin’ an’ shit.

I cannot “talk” about Islam simply because I know nothing of it, or any other religion, and have no inclination, and never have to find out. This is not a statement I make in contempt of religion or those of faith, but the likelihood of my engaging with a religious community to learn of religion is about as distant as the likelihood of my buying a Taylor Swift album, not because I have any issues with Taylor Swift, but because, well … it just ain’t for me.

I care not what religion, colour, race or creed you may be, it’s whether or not you’re a flaming fucking arsehole that will determine whether I engage with you or not.

Those who wish to “talk” about Islam as a “problem” for us all have allowed themselves, and actively seek to encourage others, to feel terrorised, panicked, by a small but noisy pack of attention-seeking, brain-dead, hoofwanking bunglecunts whose sole purpose in life, aside from pulling themselves, is to fuck other people up, deadshits representative of nothing at all, no faith, no country, no race, no colour.

They are nothing.

“We” do not need to “talk” about Islam.

Shut the fuck up.

Watch this instead …

Filzmoos Power

 

YOU OWE JIM WALLACE AN APOLOGY

Jim Wallace, Managing Director of The Australian Christian Lobby is outraged today that his recent comments suggesting a homosexual ”lifestyle” was more hazardous to health than smoking have been grievously misconstrued and misrepresented by media and gay activists to mean a homosexual ”lifestyle” was more hazardous to health than smoking.

What Mr. Wallace was trying to make clear was that heterosexuality and homosexuality are very, very different – one is like a rainbow, and the other is more of a starfish with spotty bits – and they shouldn’t be put in the same package together because there isn’t enough room and they don’t get on.

Perfectly clear, really.

IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT

And I feel fine …

I might get a curry and bottle of wine and watch the last episode of “The Walking Dead” again.

So I’ll expect I’ll be asleep on the couch by 10pm, and I’ll never know what hit me.

UPDATE: For tips on preparing for the apocalypse, please visit Zombie Apocalypse Preparation on Facebook. The Zombie Apocalypse Anticipation Party of Australia appears to the mob we’ll all be joining soon, and though we may all wind up being lost souls in Hell, that’s no good reason to treat those less fortunate than ourselves with insensitivity, so I do recommend boning up on some manners with the fine folk over at People for the Unethical Treatment of Zombies.

HAVE A HAPPY APOCALYPSE, EVERYONE!

TONGUE OF THE DAY

From The Arab American Institute …

BEST. MOVIE. EVER.

The content of Robert Rodriguez’s upcoming “Machete” according to the Christian Movie Review at Movieguide …

Evil, rotten, disgusting, humanist, nihilistic, Communist, politically correct, pro-revolution, pro-illegal immigration worldview with extreme Anti-Christian blasphemy and sacrilege (including a corrupt priest), racist elements, anti-white elements, anti-American, and anti-capitalist content, radical feminist elements, overt discussion of incest, and other anti-family content; 68 obscenities and 17 profanities; ultra-graphic, gory, very bloody, snuff extreme, constant violence such as gruesome decapitations, limbs severed, eye shot out, numerous gun battles, woman dresses as nun and mows down people with machine gun, man disemboweled and intestines used to rappel off building, priest nailed to a cross, torture, electrocution, etc.; extreme sex includes group sex, exhibitionism, and overt discussion of incest; extreme nudity includes full frontal female nudity; alcohol use and drunkenness; smoking cigarettes, marijuana use and selling drugs; and, very strong miscellaneous immorality includes lying, cheating, kickbacks, blackmail, betrayal, manipulation, corruption, greed, envy, reverse racism rationalized, and revenge.

FOR CHRIST’S SAKE

This is a High School …

Facts are taught here. Knowledge is imparted. The ability to comprehend and analyse information. Skills are developed. Literacy and numeracy.

An understanding of the real ways and workings of the world and so forth.

This is a Sunday School …

This is where the fantasy happens. Typically in such places, some dodgy old cunt will attempt to make you a “better” person by trying to scare the living shit out of you with fucking fairy tales. Facts need not apply.

It’s a “faith” thing.

If you want your kids to be educated in such fairy tales, then TAKE THEM TO A FUCKING SUNDAY SCHOOL!

On a FUCKING SUNDAY!!

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Mood.

Worse than yesterday.

HUGE MEN IN SKIRTS

According to Massachusetts’ “pro-family” action group Mass Resistance, huge men in skirts are gleefully peeing with wild and carnal abandon in the public toilets of the American nation, and in the women’s toilets no less.

Ever mindful of their onerous responsibilities to maintain and enforce righteous moral standards across the breadth of God’s chosen land, Mass Resistance bravely elected to hang around a toilet door at a transgender conference recently to document the outrageous horrors being perpetrated upon the porcelain …

LI’L TOMOTHY CRUDES & THE CHURCH OF TINCANOLOGY

(Taken from “Rebus Flatbush’s Famous Fables & Folk-Tales from the American Mid-West”)

Once upon a time, there was a little feller by the name of Tomothy Crudes and he was a purty little feller too, that’s for sure. All the ladies wanted to have their wicked, wicked ways with purty little Tomothy (an’ some a’ the fellas too by gosh, but let’s not go down that manky old tunnel of troubles), but thing was that purty little Tomothy was a mite more interested in a funny old religion that was all about holdin’ tin cans in your hands so as to get yourself right in the head.

Now this funny old religion was put together a whiles back by a funny old sailor fella by the name of Elron Bubba who useta write stories about flyin’ saucies and little green fellas from outta space ‘til he figgered that that weren’t no proper way for a grown man to make a decent livin’, so he thought he’d start himself a religion on account of all the other religions didn’t have no truck with holdin’ onta tin cans and such, and they weren’t no little green fellas from outta space in ‘em either, and Elron figured there damn well oughta be.

Little green fellas and flyin’ saucies and volcanos and atom bombs, now them were the makin’s of a proper religion!

Y’see, all those other religions was abouts some silly fella from way back who got hisself nailed to a couple a’ chunks of two-by-four and were stuck out in the desert to die on a fencepost with a rosebush on his head, and by golly, that weren’t no fun to be readin’ on, Bubba reckoned, that were just plain grim and nasty.

So ol’ Bubba set himself to thinkin’, and soon enough he wrote himself a new religion and set about callin’ it The Church of Tincanology.

And many years later, long after Bubba had passed on, and when the Church of Tincanology was takin’ off somethin’ mighty powerful and popular, purty little Tomothy Crudes found out about it and reckoned it sounded like a right fine idea, yessir, and so he joined hisself up, read a whole bunch of books on it, and he held onto those tin cans somethin’ fierce and awesome and mightily impressive, until one day a buncha senior Tincanologists came up and told him he was finally right in the head.

Now, not long after that a few of the folks in Ol’ Bubba’s Church thought it might be a fine idea if purty little Tomothy gave grabbin’ them tin cans a rest for a bit and got himself a lady to grab onto instead.

You see, they figured that purty little Tomothy with his purty little face could pull some womenfolk into the Church and then they could ‘pregnate those girlies with some of the frozen spuzz from Ol’ Elron they’d been keepin’ aside so they could have ‘emselves some little Elron’s to fawn on and follow after … also, they was runnin’ real short a’ tin cans at the time, too …

Now …

Little Tomothy may have been a purty fella, but he was only about two and a half feet and one inch tall and some of those womenfolk he was hangin’ around with didn’t stay around for very long on account of how Tomothy was way more inclined to wanna play with tin cans than to take to pokin’ about their lady bits as much as they’d have liked him to …

One of these ladies, who went by the name of Nikky Pigman, why, she was as tall and pale and scrawny as Tomothy was short and dark and stumpy and even standin’on a step-ladder that little feller couldn’t so much as scratch at her lady bits, and dang if those bits of hers weren’t just itchin’ for some scratchin’ action after a whiles, so eventually she told him where he could put his tin cans in no uncertain terms and she ran off and found herself a gee-tar playin’ feller to get her bits scratched at by …  

But never no mind, cause one day, Tomothy met another cute little gal by the name of Cattie Ohms, and he told her again and again and again and over and over and over all about holdin’ onta tin cans and the Church of Tincanology and Ol’ Elron Bubba ‘til her brain fair did rattle with confusion and afore she knew it she’d agreed to marry the little feller and have his babies …

But little Tomothy had himself no intention of pokin’ ‘bout her private bits, no sir, he and the Church had ‘emselves another plan altogether …

So’s one night … he waited … and he waited … and he waited, ‘til poor young Cattie had fallen fast asleep, and he went to the icebox and got himself a big old blob of Ol’ Elron Bubba’s frozen spuzz that the Church of Tincanology had given him a whiles back and which he’d kept hidden behind the turkey gizzards for just this very moment, and he put that spuzz on a turkey baster and crept toward Cattie’s sleepin’ self so’s he could stick that spuzz into Cattie where it could do what spuzz does when it’s stuck there … 

But …

As little Tomothy moved himself toward Cattie, he had not noticed that some of that spuzz had melted a bit and had dripped onto the floor and just as he’d got himself real close to Cattie, he slipped on some of that melted spuzz and went scootin’ across the floor, bangin’ his head smack into the wall so hard that he bounced right back across the room and onto the sofa with such a mighty force that one of the sofa springs popped right through the ‘polstery and right into his neck where it ripped his neck innerds to red strings and blood went a-spurtin’ all over and little Tomothy Crudes done up and died right there and then.

Now, with all this commotion and hullabaloo, poor little Cattie woked herself up and then she looked over to see the tiny little body of tiny little Tomothy Crudes layin’ dead on the floor, a big ol’ turkey baster with meltin’ sailor spuzz on it still in his hands, and she realised then what he’d a-been goin’ to do to her all this time and she thanked her lucky stars that she had escaped his foul and spuzzy intentions.

And even though she survived this ordeal, from that time to this, poor little Cattie Ohms still can’t hold on so much as a tin ‘a beans without a shiver a-creepin’ up her spine.

Whiles at Christmastime, no matter how loud and how long her mama hollers at her, there ain’t no way in this world or that world or the next one that she’s gonna help out stuffin’ no goddang fuckin’ turkey.

 

(A slightly different version of this was previously posted on Tongues back in January 2008)

A TONGUE, BRIEFLY

From Tongue, a dummy spit in atheist minor over at Groupthink.

And I had to laugh at this letter in today’s Sydney Morning Herald at the news of poor, put-upon Pauline’s imminent departure to the Mother country …

I dunno, these people – coming over here, taking our jobs … – Nick James London

FRIDAY’S TONGUES

A couple of recent posts from Tongue at Groupthink, The Illustrated Guide to Tony Abbott, and some thoughts on the Australian Christian Lobby, surrogacy and the absurd assumptions that gay couples or singles are not fit to raise a child.

I posted the latter yesterday afternoon, but overnight the Queensland State Government ignored the bleatings of the stupid and decided to decriminalise altruistic surrogacy. So much for the rednecks. The Opposition’s argument against appeared to revolve mostly around public toilets, pets and women with careers. Deep they are not.

In other news, over in Hamerica, Teabaggers are ticked off about being bagged in a Captain America comic book. Even though the signs in the panel are drawn from life, the nutbaggers say it’s all too “juvenile” and should be withdrawn. Marvel, unfortunately and much to their shame, has complied.

But as one commenter remarked re the “juvenile” tag, “It IS a comic book”.

Speaking of comic books, A.O. Scott of the New York Times had this to say about the recently released remake of “The Wolfman” …

“The climactic showdown resembles an extreme-fighting cage match conducted by a pair of rabid Wookies.”

… and I laughed.

UNSPEAKABLE

Shameless.

A VERY SMELLY CHRISTMAS

Nothing seems more effective at inciting religious hatred than these loud-mouthed bullies, these pious little shitheads of faith who are forever shouting from the rooftops at the rest of us about their fucking beliefs and what it all means and what it all stands for.

These self-absorbed, self-righteous cunts who take it upon themselves to present their understanding and interpretation of their God, their messiahs, their fucking prophets and fucking books full of fucking fairy tales as if they, and they alone hold the key to absolute truth and the meaning of life and if you don’t agree with them, if you question them, if you even attempt to point out a few obvious irrationalities in their faith, somehow you’re the one whose soul is stuffed to its rancid brim with hate.

So fucking fragile are they that, when a handful of people write a handful of books questioning the basis of religious belief, it’s not just a handful of books, it’s a “WAR ON RELIGION!!1!”

And not content with just going about their business and leaving the rest of us to go about ours, these smarmy-faced self-anointed protectors of “our” morality now feel they have the right to dictate to us what we may read and see on the internet, or even what films do or do not get made.

Hate?

How’s this for hate? Excuse me while I go piss up the gaping anus of God, take a dump in the holy water and wipe my arse with pages torn from your holy books and then bugger a nun with a nail-studded crucifix.

Get out of my fucking life.

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Dickheads.

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Now, having got that off my chest, please take the time to listen to this gorgeous piece of music from Transglobal Underground & Natacha Atlas, “Sky Giant” which is my not-so-smelly Christmas gift to all of you who read this crap …

“The earth was like a marble and I was a giant on it” …

That’s better.

See you next year. 

THE DAY MY HEAD ASPLODED

It burns, mummy … it burns my head inside … it burns reeeeaaaal baaaaaad ….

Wubbidywubbidywubbidywubbidy, wubblewubblewubble ….

… aaaaaaaAAAAAAAARRRRRRR-SPLURRRRRRRRGH …

…!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Splock … dribble … blurd … drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip ….

GIVE US YOUR BALD, YOUR SHORT AND YOUR COLOUR BLIND

Feeling left out? …

CHRISTIAN churches are getting ready to launch Australia’s biggest cross-denominational media campaign, featuring the ultimate pin-up boy: Jesus Christ.

Mr Willis said the campaign would not shy away from the reality that some people had had negative experiences with Christian churches, but Jesus – who had stood up to religious leaders and those using the church for financial gain – ”stands up to scrutiny”. ”We acknowledge that some people have been dealt a rough deal by the church but Jesus, when he was here and was talking to people, he cut through all that as well,” he said.

The church has published a book, Everybody Welcome, advising the clergy to consider that some parishioners have ”special needs”, such as the bald, short people, the colour-blind – and readers of tabloid newspapers.

Oh, joy.

I am loved.