Mark Sharma talks in third person. Mark Sharma sulk now. Mark Sharma say everyone at Unleashed racist. Unleashed turned into bigger farce.

This post is probably beneath me.

Actually, who am I kidding here, of course it isn't. 

A friend of mine, who shall remain anonymous unless they choose not to be, quipped recently that I'd hit the big time by getting an Unleashed author to post a comment on my blog. One way of putting perspective on that is to point out that, well, I got the Unleashed author most likely to open a post with "So whats up fa-gots? How are things in ur lil Gay Land?". Another is to point out that that post is, as I type this, the second result to come up for a Google search of the man in question, after his own web site. So not exactly big time prominent writer, here....


However. This dude is apparently going to contest a state seat in the next NSW election. And it'd be pretty funny if I could maintain anything like that level of Google prominence when that happens, so.... let's just all take a quiet moment of appreciation for the following extract from his spirited and rational defense (a summary of which is written over the above picture in red):

But clearly this is not going well with Left Labor- Greens Communist alliance and their supporters. A quick look at the said article shows how every comment on the page is against me.

Oh dear..... 

If one then moseys on over to the original post one sees firstly that, well, commenters  have not been altogether kind to the unfortunate Mr Sharma. Happily, one also sees a few supporters bravely standing against that evil communist tide. Rather like King Cnut.... only with Margaret Thatcher underwear, an "I ♥ Mark Sharma" t-shirt and .... well, probably lobotomy scars. Take completely disinterested random bystander Jamie:

Well that certainly sounded natural and un-forced, didn't it? I found the "These questions have been raised by Independent Mark Sharma and people like me" bit especially convincing. Almost like..... Look, 'Jamie', I'll level with you.  It's not that I'm saying you are Mark Sharma, necessarily ..... it's just that I'd be very surprised if he didn't more or less tell you what to say in some way. If there were actually a way of actually settling the matter, yes I'd be quite happy to put up money there.

In any case, if one can believe his rants about the Indian/immigrant community of Strathfield needing better representation than they currently have I really hope, for their sake, they can find a better candidate to represent their interests somewhere and soon. Also, what the hell is with the publication standards at Unleashed?

 Mark Sharma for a regular friday slot!!!! 

Update (6/12/10): I have, sadly and rapidly, lost my place of Google prominence apparently after posting my latest. Suspect my prominence there (or anything like it) was only ever going to last as long as a Mark Sharma post was my latest. Woe :( ... I guess it's nice to learn a little about Google's search algorithm, at least. 

News just in: Sydney suburb of Strathfield uncovers dire existential threat to Australia.

Mark Sharma.

Mark Sharma. Maaark Sharma. Mark. Sharma. Repeat these words, dear reader. Savour them. Let the sweet, sensual, seductive sound of Shaaaarrrmmmaaaaa.... make love with your tongue, vocal cords, nasal cavity and lips to mark this fine day.

The day the prophet spoke to us.

Who is Mark Sharma, I hear you ask? Why, Mark Sharma is Strathfield, dear reader. And Strathfield is he¹. He speaks its thoughts. He lives out its wants and desires. And today, dear reader, which some day will be recorded as the first day of year 0 in a newer, more enlightened calendar, Strathfield spoke to us.

It was not a message of comfort, dear reader. Rather, it was a terrible vision of the future. But fear not, my friend, for in this vision lies hope. If we can but heed this call, if we sinners can but repent, become conservatives and joint this great movement Australia may once again become a land of prosperity, heterosexuality and economic liberalism.

Why do Gillard, Swan and Brown hate freedom so? The prophet would not tell us. Perhaps it is because they are not conservatives, and as we all know, freedom is a conservative value. Perhaps it is because they are brainwashed vessels of leftist hate. Who can say? But hate it, they do. And as much as we might like to tear these hate-mongers limb from limb in the name of Australian freedom, dear reader, let us instead let the soothing words of the prophet stay our righteous hands:

.....it will be a waste of time if we spent our entire energy targeting them. Instead of that it would be more productive to focus on their hidden agenda.

Indeed.

Their hidden agenda? Why it becomes only too obvious if you are but willing to look with clear eyes. Consider, first, what they have already done.

If the shock of another tax was not enough for the Gillard Government, now there is a foolish debate going on in Canberra on same same-sex marriage. The ceremony of marriage might be different in different cultures but the institution of marriage is the same no matter where you live. Marriage can only happen between a man and a woman. There are no "ifs and buts" or grey areas to it. It doesn't matter whether you are Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Jewish or belong to any other faith. The concept is the same everywhere. Just because we live in the 21st century, it doesn't mean we should destroy our way of life for delusional people. There is no possibility of any debate on this issue and it should be kept out of our sacred parliament.

Why should we ruin our way of life for delusional people, indeed? For people so wrapped up in their delusional mindset as to disbelieve such manifest truths as the existence of bronze age gods, transubstantiation and his elephantine majesty Ganesha?

OUR SACRED PARLIAMENT MUST BE DEFENDED FROM SUCH FILTH!!!

But why must they do this, dear reader. Why? My god, man, but isn't it obvious?

But despite all this, the Greens are relentlessly bringing up gay marriage and attacking Australian families. Why is Senator Brown doing all this? The only assumption one can make is that the Greens want to weaken our economy with a carbon tax and destroy our social fabric with gay marriage. A weakened nation would serve as a perfect launch pad for communism.

Don't you see? Don't you see you fools!? First they introduce flouridation of our very water suppy to dilute our precious bodily fluids. Then, using their cunning sham of 'global warming', they tax carbon to cripple our great nation's economy. Finally, to weaken our defenses by tearing the social fabric in two and turning our defense forces camp, they let gay people marry each other. Why else would you do these things? Isn't the next logical step that we find ourselves a satellite state of the Soviet Union communist UN world government?

WAKE UP AUSTRALIA!

¹It's just a bit of a shame he isn't the rest of Watson, really.

Where have you gone, Wilson Tuckey? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.....

Oh wait..... there you are, buddy!

I have to say that I was disappointed with his first two posts. Sure, with his second there were tantalising hints that he thinks Marius Kloppers should bugger off back where he came from with his liberal ideas ..... but where was the fire, Wilson? What was with all the reasonably coherent posting?

Imagine my joy, then, at his third post. This beastie reads a little more like a comment on Andrew Bolt's blog. This is more like the Wilson Tuckey we all know and...... know! This is the Wilson bravely showing the Coalition the way through the wilderness, in stark contempt for the opinion of others, coherency, actual parliamentary influence and growing senility. But why are you all wasting time listening to me? Take it away, Wilson....

Greg Combet interview with Kerry O`brien on Gillards broken election promise to not  introduce a Carbon Tax reminded me of Paul Keatings LAW broken election promise. Tony Abbott should now introduce some LAW to the Parliament banning such a tax making it clear he will attend any Divisions involved.

This initiative will test Gillard and the Independants both in the debate and the vote. In particular to match their rhetoric with actual evidence as to the ECONOMIC¹  and ENVIROMENTAL BENEFITS of such a measure.

Lastly, however, reader ..... I must ask you to imagine my visceral sense of horror when I realised what many of you are no doubt realising after reading the above. Wilson Tuckey is ..... me. Given a few years of disillusionment and the onset of early senility .... is it really such a stretch to go from here, here or here to .......here?:

Whilst a Gillard promise has a 24hr USE BY DATE she might just be prepared to provide a guarunteed (sic) figure as to the reduction in CO2 emissions per 1% of tax imposed excluding of course those emissions that are exported to other countries.

Having seen what lies ahead, dear reader..... I'm really not sure I can go on.....

Update: title corrected.

¹Possibly Abbott could stand in parliament with a sign reading 'Where is da money, Ms Gillard?'

For Wes Anderson, if he's interested. Part 3.

We find ourselves in a Canberra pub, where a trio of be-suited men sit in consternation. All three are wearing hats indoors. One is sporting a cream akubra, and the other two wearing red caps with "I ♥ ALP" written on the front of them.

Katter: So here it is, gentlemen. Exactly what we've been holding out for. A pledge from Mr Abbott to firebomb Filipino banana crops into oblivion. 

Oakeshott: *cough* ..... Yeah, ah .... sexy. Naughty.

Katter: And it doesn't stop there, either, gentlemen. Abbott's prepared to meet our demands on fishing and to give us all the ethanol we can drink. 

Windsor (scratching his head): Yeah, about that Bob....

Katter (holding his hand up in a manner conotating 'just wait'):  Lastly, though, me-lads.....the Piece de Resist-once...... who do you think will be setting the value of the Aussie dollar this time next year? I''l tell you who, lads: "Bob Katter!".

There follows a long pause as Bob allows the gravity of those last two words to settle in. Oakeshott and Windsor answer Katter's manic stare with a pair of vapid ones. Finally they are unable to meet his eyes at all, and each develop an intense interest in their drinks. Bob appears oblivious to this.

We now notice, as Katter pats him consolingly on the shoulder, a fourth figure at the table. How we failed to notice Kevin Rudd's¹ existence up until this point appears mystifying to us, but fail we did.

Katter: I'm sorry, Kev.

Rudd (exhaling): That's O.K., I guess.

Katter: If it were you, buddy, I'd-a gone the other way. No question.

Rudd nods in the kind of endearingly pathetic way only Owen Wilson really can.

Katter: Now, gentlemen, we've got an adoring nation to talk to.

Windsor: Yeah.... we're right behind you, Bob.... we'll just finish these beers and meet you outside.


¹Owen Wilson.

For Wes Anderson, if he's interested. Part 2.

DREAM SEQUENCE

It is election night, if a little hazier around the edges of our vision. Bob is by a TV set in a small beach house in between a banana plantation and the ocean. He is wearing only a pair of Bananas in Pyjamas boxer shorts, gum boots and his trade-mark hat. He is holding a remote in one hand, a beer in the other. Kerry O'Brien¹ is presently announcing ".... thrusting Bob Katter into a position of kingmaker". 

Bob switches the TV off, nodding. "Bob Katter!" he says, with conviction, before reclining back in his chair and throwing his head back to take a hefty swig of his beer.

A knife darts in front of  his now-exposed throat. Panning out, we see a small Filipino man in a wet-suit, his face concealed. "We burn banans now, Kat Kat, you big gayfaglol!" he says.


Bob's face contorts into a snarl as he responds. "You picked the wrong beach this time, Kimosabe..."


As if in answer, there is a low, deep, blood-curdling howl in the distance.


Outside, we see a small surfaced submarine flying the Filipino flag and rocking around in newly disturbed sea. We make out a panicked voice slightly distorted by radio static. "Large object come in fast, general Makabulos!". The wave immediately behind the sub appears to form a giant pair of fruit bat wings.....


Focus back on Bob Katter, who is laughing maniacally. Enraged, our wet-suited Makabulos forces the knife into Katter's throat....

Bob snaps awake. He is sitting on the toilet holding the latest copy of Mt Isa Bush Pig. There is a knocking at the door as a feminine (but very Ocker) voice enquires "Mr Katter?". "Strewth, hang on a tick, Gillard, Bob's on the job...." he replies. The voice becomes more insistent "Mr Katter!". "I told you, Bobs on the....."

Bob snaps awake again. He is in Canberra, in the office of Prime Minister Julia Gillard².

We focus on Gillard's face. "Could we focus on the ..... job, here, Bob?"

Katter: Musta dozed off, there.... you were saying something about bananas?

Gillard: Well, I wasn't....... but while we're on the topic why don't we shoot down to point 16. Bob, I just don't think that you've thought that one through.

Katter: Which part?

Gillard: Well.... for starters, even if they couldn't count on some degree of international support and us.... none.... the Philippines has quite a substantial standing army. And ..... well, they're just bananas, Bob.

Katter: Just bananas? Look. You've killed off manufacturing in this country, you've killed off agriculture. You're trying to kill mining and porn... all we've got left are bananas!

Gillard: .... we're going to have to say no to the 'Bob Katter bridge to nowhere³' and orchestrating a joint Australia-US naval bombardment on ...... "Fruit-bat-zilla", too, Bob. We might be able to move on farm subsidies, though.

We can just make out a sharp, muffled "communist" emanating from a cabinet directly behind Gillard. Gillard motions Wayne Swan to the cabinet with an economical motion of her head. Upon opening the cabinet a large-eared figure leaps out in a vision of startled kung-fu fury. Swan leaps back in fright. Waking up to himself, Tony Abbott⁴ straightens first his posture, then his tie.


Abbott (coughing): Ah, hello Bob.

Gillard: Tony, this isn't exactly what I'd call professional.

To be continued.............

¹George Clooney?

²Tilda Swinton

³I got her in, Chris! I got her in!!!!

⁴Ben Stiller.

For Wes Anderson, if he's interested. Part 1.

Opening shot: we follow the top of a large, cream coloured akubra hat as it slowly and deliberately makes its way towards a set of ornate double doors. Upon reaching the doors the hat pauses. It's¹ slow, rocking movement seems strangely evocative of its encasing a head chewing tobacco. Or hay.... or, I don't know, whatever country folks like to chew on these days.... possibly their own tongues or something.

Without warning a pair of grizzled, wiry old arms fly into the doors like two North Queensland crocodiles taking prey and, with a deft synchronous flick of each wrist impel the doors to fly open.

While we can almost feel the oppressively humid North Queensland heat now pouring in from outside, more oppressive still is the ominous ranks of reporters, cameras and microphones that greet our hat on the now-exposed² doorstep. There is a brief moments pause as though, caught in their own private conversations, these ranks of slick, southern filth have been caught by surprise at the unexpected emergence of their prey. It doesn't last.

A veritable chattering cacophony, (surely enough to kill a lesser hat) now assaults our senses as surely as it assaults the hat. "Mr Katter, blah, blah, blah Latte-sipping-elitist loaded question!?"

As the camera swivels around and pans out we make out first the purposeful, grizzled face beneath the hat, which begins nodding up and down, laughing. Our figure's right arm is motioning the crowd be quiet, which obeys as surely as has many a wayward steer before it.

Katter: One at a toime.... please!

Faceless reporter: Mr Katter, why did you not meet with Garnaut and Stern today?

Katter's face³ stares impassively back but his chewing slows, offering us the only clue that this question may have caught him off-guard. His eyes dart briefly towards his watch, then back at the offending reporter. His face contorts first into a wince, then a scowl as his arm makes to swat the question away as surely as it has swatted many a North Queensland fly before it.

Katter: Ah, they're lightweights. Stupid. Wrong. I mean, you know, they don't even seem to realise the unassailable scientific fact about a major problem coming out of our oceans.

Reporter: ........ acidity?

Katter: Fruit-bat-ZILLA! I mean, you all come here from down South.... You people have been slitting our throats for years, when all the time we've been living under the shadow of that monster. And he'll come for you, too, after he's done with us, but none of you even listen or care! And then you go and rape and kill our livestock, destroy all our industry and force homosexuality on us.

Reporters: .................?

Katter: Look, I've answered your questions, I'm gonna go have a beer now.

________________________________________________________________________________

SCENE 2.

Bob is reclining at his desk drinking a beer, his muddy, booted feet sharing his desk-top with a WWII vintage Enfield rifle. He reaches slowly down to his desk draw and opens it to reveal a single object. It is a banana with a note tied to it with thick, coarse string and the unmistakable stamp of the Phillipines on it.  Zoom in on the note, which says:

How you lik them banans? Ha Ha Ha Gayfaglol!

Focus now on Katter's face, whose eyes cagily dart around the room then lock upon the ashtray at on a far-off bench. The cigar in it is still fresh.

He snatches up his rifle and darts around the room opening cupboards and upturning objects, face contorted with rage and pointing the rifle accusingly into each empty space he finds. His eyes now dart towards the bathroom door. Forcing his way in, we now see two tell-tale signs: the toilet seat is down, and the window is open. Outside we see a diminutive figure in a grey pyjama suit just disappearing into the distant banana trees as Katter takes more pot shots at it than we would have thought the rifle capable of without reloading.

Gayfaglol!!!!! we hear it cry defiantly in the distance.

Focus on Katter's enraged face, end scene.

¹Apostrophe crime!

²Do you like that hyphen, Dave.... do you like it, buddy?

³ A heavily made-up Bill Murray? Jacko? Owen Wilson, even (Royal-Tenenbaums type role, sort of)?

I am an idiot, too.

O.K., so I didn't check that the listed primary voting percentages added to 100 (and are already a percentage of valid counted votes, not ballots returned). Probably around half of Arkan's primary preferenced Labor, after all.

It is my melancholy duty to inform you that Andrew Bolt was right. The Sikhs in Cowper really are the thin end of a Labor-boat people wedge insidiously started by the Labor movement in the 1830s and only now bearing fruit. It's really no surprise they're such pansies on the issue of burning asylum seekers alive for fun these days, really, is it?

By way of apology to Bolt, allow me to present the world with irrefutable proof, courtesy of your the Maoist's ABC that muslims are stupid:

... and that "our" ABC is, in fact, run by rabid atheistic communists out to make decent, hard-working Christian folk out to be bigots or something...

Andrew Bolt is an Idiot.

Look, Jethro, those two numbers is equal, hic..

The results in Cowper hardly provides strong evidence that the Sikh community votes in a bloc (relative to the Coalition or Labor at least). Hell, the very reference he quotes seems to inicate that the majority of Arkan's primary vote can't have been Sikh anyway. Worse, if you assume that all Greens preferences and no CDP preferences went to Labor in Cowper, approximately 3/4 of Arkan's supporters must have favoured the coalition rather than Labor.

One wonders how some of the nasty little racists commenting would feel if they realised that, if anything, the 'Sikh voting bloc' in Cowper probably favours the Nationals.......

An ode to non-boredom

Dave raises, I think, a fair question when he asks if a boring election campaign is necessarily a bad thing. To put matters another way, there is a reason that 'May you live in interesting times' is considered a curse. Given, however, that we do live in interesting times - I would submit that if a country finds itself failing to have an interesting election campaign, then the chances that this is due to a bi-partisan consensus having been struck on a discovered set of policy decisions that is actually most conducive to the long-term happiness of the country are very, very, slim. As far as Australia is concerned I would be interested in seeing anyone maintain, with a straight face, that this is the reason we are currently facing an election of coma-inducing dullness.

Politics is a game. It does not exist to safeguard our happiness. It does not exist to discover the best solution to the problems the people effected by it face. It just exists. Some countries play this game by rules which are more conducive to the well-being of its participants¹ than others, democracy being a pretty good innovation along those lines, but all dull contests really mean is that dull tactics are sufficient for the goals of those most actively playing it. Stability is a very, very different thing from optimality.

In the Australian context, we see two major parties in a state of near alliance, and I would submit that this is because they have reached a point of equilibrium where they feel, with good justification, that any major divergence on either of their parts will be penalised, not because they've struck policy gold.


¹And in all countries, the list of participants in the game extends to the entire population, whether they like to admit it or not. In Australia, for instance, we don't. We pretend that the manner in which politicians consistently behave (and the manner in which politics is reported) in the long term has absolutely nothing to do with us.

In praise of the term "Douche Nozzle"

Why, oh why can't more political advertising look like this?

There are times when no cock joke can be as funny as reality

I have to admit that I struggled a little with this one .... Up until fairly recently, my blog hasn't been the kind that finds funny/quirky stuff on the internet and points it out to people. Largely because I'm just not very good at it, but also because I've come to realise that what people are really after when they visit my blog is, as often as not, a borderline non-sensical rant about some completely pointless issue. This means that when I do find something I'd like to link to I feel a duty to embellish it a little.... but in the case of a story titled Lynchings in Congo as penis theft panic hits capital, well, what the cock is there to add?

I thought at first that I might just fill a post with single/double cock-entendre action ... but, well, I feel I've already kind of blown my load on that front. Possibly, I thought I might just give a blow by blow account of the story, but it's fair to say that there is something of a premature climax to any article which opens with the sentence:

KINSHASA (Reuters) - Police in Congo have arrested 13 suspected sorcerers accused of using black magic to steal or shrink men's penises after a wave of panic and attempted lynchings triggered by the alleged witchcraft.

I suppose I'll I'd like to add to this is that, given the seriousness of the issue:

"It's real. Just yesterday here, there was a man who was a victim. We saw. What was left was tiny," said 29-year-old Alain Kalala, who sells phone credits near a Kinshasa police station.

I am appalled at the insensitivity of Kinshasa police chief Jean-Dieudonne Oleko:

"I'm tempted to say it's one huge joke," Oleko said.

Kevin 07

November 24, 2007. The day on which the Australian people collectively said of the previous decade:

WHAT THE FUCK WERE WE THINKING?