Earlier in February, the world stopped – gobsmacked – for the well documented “meteorite” that flew through the skies of Russia, broke a few windows, scared the shit out of some Ruskies going about their business selling Vodka, and exploded itself all over the place. Scientists scrambled to explain the phenomena, citizens feared some kind of war had begun, and the Government came out and reassured everyone that it was an aberration. Of course, NASA and all the other space agencies and rocket scientists are still scanning the sky to determine when – not if – the next big chunk of space debris is going to collect our planet and scatter our existence into oblivion; what they didn’t realize, however, was that the Russian Meteor Event wasn’t exactly all it seemed to be at first glance. Yes, it was spectacular, and yes, people were injured by exploding glass and vodka bottles, but the reason behind this meteor is elegantly simple, and I’m just as surprised as you that nobody else has figured it out yet. Want to know what it was, really?
Like many grumpy bastards my age (mid-30’s….) I like to have a rant against the world. Thanks to the internet, everyone can rant away to their heart’s content. Whether people listen… well, that’s another problem, but often, it’s less about who reads the rant as much as it is about just doing the ranting.
There’s a couple of things I’ve seen in recent weeks and months that have just made me weep for the future of humanity. As a grumpy old bastard, it’s my solemn duty to now proceed to berate you with what I see as prime examples of bottom-feeding pond scum living off the goodness of others.
Regular readers of my posts here at the Bar None might know that I’m a two-time dad. Not a two-timing dad, I mean I’m a father of two young kids. Having kids, as those of you who do will attest, is about the greatest joy on Earth aside from getting shitface plastered on a Saturday night and ruining your Manolo Blahniks. Becoming a father for the second time recently, to a baby boy, reaffirmed my appreciation of all that women do in the process of conception (my favorite bit), pregnancy (fucking emotional hell) and eventually childbirth (fucking emotional awesome!). Now, I’m not gonna sprawl here and pretend I understand how women feel, or find some way of appreciating their pain and agony during the laboring and birthing process, because I’m not an idiot, and my wife knows where I live.
This isn’t some kind of women-bashing anti-feminist rant, no sir. Don’t get all high and mighty on that score! Women reserve the right forever to be pissed at the folks who caused them to endure such agony – fucking Adam and that stupid bitch Eve, when they got thrown out of the Garden of Eden. Apparently, upon the casting out, God told Eve that forevermore women would have endure immense agony during childbirth thanks to her gutless nibbling on a piece of fruit, so we can all thank the pair of them for what women now have to go through each time that sperm slams into the egg. If you believe in that, of course. Darwinism would have you subscribe to the theory that it’s a part of nature, and that enduring childbirth is some kind of throwback to natural selection in that only the strongest will survive. Darwin was a sadist, wasn’t he?
There was no WAY I was ready for THAT!
Whichever theory you subscribe to, there’s no denying the power and force of will of one pissed off mother. I recently had to bear witness to a little tete-a-tete at my daughters 3rd birthday party, where the wife of one of my cousins – let’s call her “Eve” for the sake of argument and a kind of serendipity – let fly on a fellow member of the fairer sex at the local play-gym we were holding the party at. Eve’s young son, who is normally pretty docile, was being pummeled by this older kid (not too much older, I’ll be honest) and not really responding – he’s a lover, not a fighter. Cain – that’s what we’ll call this kid – decided to simply walk away; a not entirely unexpected response considering the non-violence conditioning his uptight mother had instilled in him. However, several minutes later, this older kid returned to start beating up on Cain yet again, and this time Eve had had enough. Marching over to the older child, she grabbed his arm and gave him a stern reprimand to stay the hell away from her child. Almost immediately, the mother of the offending child was upon them, berating Eve for daring to touch her child and threatening to do all kinds of bodily harm because there’s no way her darling fucking pip would ever harm a fly.
What Rod looks like while writing for The Bar None.
Minutes passed, with neither female wanting to stand aside, until cooler heads (ie, the men standing about all agog) prevailed. Unfortunately, there was no jelly or mud and there was no pit to fight in, so a perfectly good opportunity for setting the women’s lib movement back again was missed. Following this confrontation, there was all manner of posturing and aggrandized glaring across the room, as both mothers tried to kill each other simply with their eyes. If looks could kill, there’d have been a homicide or two that day.
Let’s set the record straight – the mother of the older child, who for the sake of keeping this miniscule narrative going we’ll call Abel – was completely in the wrong. She claimed her child had been provoked – he hadn’t. She claimed Eve had assaulted her child – she hadn’t, she’d merely stopped him belting her son again. She claimed that Cain had started it first – wrong again, because I saw it all and I would stand on a pile of Nazi skulls and declare my allegiance to the Justice League that Cain was merely an innocent victim of “older kid bullying”.
These guys would make awesome parents, right?
Rod, you ask, what the fuck are you trying to say? I’ll tell you. Sometimes, women are so protective of their kids and their precious little reputations that they’ll blindly ignore even the most obvious wrongdoing in order to escape persecution. This incident highlights how society tells us that our precious little darlings and their upstart, no-care attitudes, and the “softly-softly” approach to parenting we’ve adopted because we’re afraid of being sued for child abuse has amounted to naught for the good of us all. Spoiled, do-no-wrong children will end up running this world; perhaps they already do, don’t they, politicians of the world? I’m all for mothers being protective of their spawn, yes even the devil-spawn we see screaming in the shopping malls on Sunday afternoons, their undiagnosed ADD running rampant as their mother, who turns a blind eye to the discomfort of fellow patrons, continues her quest to obtain the next sale item faster than anyone else. Girls, you know you do it. For Christ’s sake, control your fucking children. And learn to realize that they are not innocent darlings who never do anything wrong – in fact, more often they’re cheeky little shits you’d want to slap silly if it weren’t a crime.
I’ll admit that my daughter has definitely turned a little bratty in her 3rd year, and has been known to throw things in a tantrum from time to time. But for fucks sake, my wife and I would never let her get away with that kind of behavior. A behavior reinforced by an ignorant mother too stupid to actually parent her child when she can simply avoid it by pointing the blame at someone else and hoping nobody notices. Perhaps she’d been drinking.
Women fighting in The Bar None.
With all due respect to mothers out there, sometimes you women can get a little crazeeeee! The above incident is really tame compared to some of the stories you could Google and read for yourself. I’m okay with a mother getting upset if her child is wronged, harmed or caused pain. That’s to be expected – as a father, I feel the same way. What I’m not okay with are mothers who fly off at the drop of a hat with little consideration for things like… oh, the facts maybe? Go fuck a pineapple, I say to them. No, you have a little shit for a kid, not a little angel. That snot running down his face isn’t cute, it’s a fucking geyser of putrid germs and a potential epidemic, yet you insist on letting this sick kid play with other (quite well) children so that you can spread the disease about just so the little fuckstick can have five minutes of playtime.Your kid’s right to have a good time should not impede my kid’s right to not get his fucking head caved in by your kid’s bullying tactics.
Christmas of Awesome!!
In order to own a gun you need a license. You need a license to drive a car. You need a license to do just about anything in this damnable world, and yet they’ll let anyone with a cock or a vagina become a parent. No course to study for, no test run first: just up-the-duff and away you go. And let’s be honest: there’s a whole lot of people out there who should be anything but parents. Perhaps it’s time to instigate the old sci-fi classic cliche… people need a license to have children. Damn, that’d work wonders, wouldn’t it? How do some of these imbeciles even get their kids past infancy, I ask? Darwinism will win out eventually, I suspect, but there’s a hell of a lot of stupid, stupid parents getting about with no clue as to how to adequately raise a child. Perhaps parenting should be a class at school? Perhaps some kind of University Degree that comes with an ability to recognize the difference between what’s socially acceptable and what isn’t. Like wearing shoes, for example.
Give people all the guns in the world, but in return they have to bring their kids up to know what’s right and wrong. It should be fucking mandatory. Blame shifting and lazy parenting should be punished like we do to child abusers – because not parenting your child properly is almost the same, really – not teaching your little bundle of screeching joy to read and write is signing their social death warrant. About the only job they have an opportunity is to sweep the dregs from the piss-trough at the Bar None, because folks who can’t read or write (and thankfully none of them will be reading this!) can’t become a fucking heart surgeon, can they? Denying your child the right to a good life is as bad as kicking a puppy across the street. Deny that, liberal dickheads!
Parenting for Dummies?
I realize I’ve got to the end of this rant and have had a singular dearth of booze-related humor, and for that, I apologize. I just wanted to get this stuff off my chest. It’s bugged me for a while now, this bad parenting thing, and yet it’s taken until now for me to put my thoughts into words. Albeit not very succinct words, I admit. I have every respect for mothers, especially those who have had it rough, but having it rough is no excuse for slacking off on what is actually one of society’s most important jobs. To all those who insist we coddle our children and wrap them up in cotton-wool to protect them from the pedophiles and sex predators lurking on every street corner, this is the whirlwind of fucked-upedness you’ve sown for us all.
Parent your kids properly, or don’t fucking have any.
You’re gonna need a pick-me-up track from the Juiced Box this time out. And for a genuine legendary pick-me-up, you can’t go past Bob Marley.
I know, I know, it’s been a while since I had anything to say here at The Bar None. Pull up a stool and I’ll ignore your whining. Normally, my kind words of comfort and sympathy to the lesser individuals amongst us wash against your tired, drunken brain like vomit swirling around the bottom of the toilet. I’ve left you all alone for a while now, safe in the warm, molesting hands of our favorite barkeep, young Al. But I’ve held my tongue too long, far too long against the oncoming tide since I last put finger to keyboard and delivered a rant like no other to those I see as betrayers of the human condition. Something’s been pissing me off for a long time now, something brewing bigger than a vat of German ale at Oktoberfest. Forgive me if this gets a little…. political… or “real”, but for fucks sake, don’t you just want to scream?
It’s pretty fuckin’ obvious that the world is damn near screwed. Not just one-night-stand screwed, I mean bang a bus full of football hooligans for a buck kinda screwed. Royally reamed, bent over and inserted with something sharp, solid, and cold. Yeah, you say, this is gonna be about that Kardashian slag, right? About how her IMDB bio got fucked with by some smartass with more balls than a bus full of women screwing a football hooligan. Wait, that’s not right. It’s wrong. That’s not what I’m on about here.
Apparently, money’s main weakness is lightning…
I want to talk to you about finance. Money. And how we’re all royally screwed. A rant about corporate greed, corruption and how that stupid Zuckerberg has the scrotum to put an internet company up for public float and make all his employees multimillionaires. I just want you to know, Zuckerberg, if I ever bump in to you on a dark night in a park somewhere, when the street lamps have blown and all you have for company is a wino sleeping on a bench covered with the sports section, I’m gonna fuck you up say some stuff that’ll probably make you cry. So you have a net worth higher than the GDP of India if the GDP of India was like a gazillion rupee, does that mean I have to swallow your damn arrogant smile as you make even more from conning the public?
We typed “Mark Zuckerberg” into Google and this is the only picture that came up.
Before I get off topic and into a Zuckerberg rant, let’s just say I’m a little pissed at how badly our world economy is traveling. And if this isn’t enough to make people take up boozin’ to get past it, then nothing will. Let’s look at some facts, okay? – I know, they’re a rarity round these parts, but let’s fucking look anyway. Europe, to clarify my earlier statement, is – for want of a better word – screwed. The bottom’s fallen out of the market in the majority of the major Euro players – Ireland, Spain, Portugal and Greece are all abso-lutely rooted. And by rooted, I mean that not in a supportive context, but the kind of context you’d find in a bestiality porno. Greece especially looks like dragging the world down into some kind of mega-depression, from what the news reports say. Now, I normally drink through the opening twenty minutes of our local news service, so I can spend more time finding the sporting highlight hilarious, but of late I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in those opening twenty minutes of whatever they normally gab on about. Greece, and a whole bunch of other Euro Zone countries (what, is that like the opposite of the End Zone or something?) look like they’re struggling to repay some kind of debt, and now they’re having to introduce something called “austerity measures” to keep the budget in check…. in other words, the Big End Of Town got a little loose with the cash, so now the Little People are gonna have to eat bread and chips for a generation to pay for it. Or something like that. So you have a bunch of Greek politicians being voted in… voted out… voted back in…. resigning…. being voted back in again… like a roundabout of folks who want to be in charge but don’t want to fix anything. Sounds like me on a Sunday afternoon when the wife tells me to get out and mow the lawn…. chuckle….
You wouldn’t like him when he’s hungry.
Then there’s America. Big frickin’ America, so proud of itself it can’t see where it’s stuck its own head right up its ass and is eating its own poo. Apparently, and I’m not just making this up, America owes like half of its firstborn children to the Chinese. Kid you not. Most of America is damn near owned entirely by China – a country who about thirty years ago couldn’t even keep people out of a square somewhere without needing to bring in the tanks. (Too soon?) America’s been fighting two wars at the same time (which, I admit, was pretty cool at the start but now looks stupid) and they’ve spent more on their military budget than they can afford – which brings us to their stupid “debt ceiling”. You mean, there’s a limit to debt? Holy Christ in a handbasket, does that mean we’ll see some fiscal responsibility from the Yanks in order to keep their budget and house in order? No siree, just fire up the good old Constitution and vote to increase the level of debt America can handle, and that’ll solve a world of problems, right? Instead, didn’t somebody ask the question: “if it doesn’t matter how much debt we have, why do we even have a debt ceiling?”. Good fucking question, man.
Tossing about new taglines for currency, we came up with this little effort.
Imagine if I walked into the Bar None and decided I’d rack up a tab which was more than I earned in a week. I couldn’t pay that tab, but I came back a week later and did the same thing again, increasing my debt to Al but still being unable to pay him back completely. And I do this same thing week in, week out. I’m pretty sure Al would back me up when I say that that’s a shitty way to do business, but if you wanna tie everything up in a pretty bow so the uneducated can understand it, that’s pretty close to what the US has been doing. Apparently, it doesn’t matter how much they owe to anybody, because they can simply print more money or something and make their problems go away with a war. It’s enough to make a poor guy drink, isn’t it?
Because whining about something will always get you what you want.
China and the rest of Asia (aside from Japan, who are currently the Switzerland of Asian finance on account of a fricking nuclear problem and some kinda earthquake) have strong economies, so strong in fact that the rest of the world is, very soon, going to have to rely on them completely for financial strength. Down here in Australia, about the only industry we have outside of Russell Crowe is our mining industry, chugging away selling our valuable minerals to a bunch of people who still censor the internet. Fuck you Google, they say, and Google says okay I’ll go get fucked. Stupid Google. The mining industry to China is worth billions upon billions to our national economy, much the same way call centers are worth the same to the Indian economy. So if China was to suddenly pull the plug on mining in Australia, this little Hot Rod might be typing his next post via the ankle of a carrier pigeon. The Western World has got itself into a pretty shaky position, it would seem, and yet young people are still going out drinking instead of learning Mandarin, which we should all know when the new world order begins in a few years.
The scariest graph you’ll ever see…
I jest, but seriously, has anybody in charge actually sat back and wondered if we shouldn’t just let it all go to shit? Let the Greeks stick with a financial system which is obviously working out so well for them? Let the Euro Zone collapse and plunge the world into a financial collapse so massive it’d make the Great Depression look like a smoko break out the back of work? Right now, there’s a bunch of banking tossers running between their multi-million dollar corporate offices wondering how in the hell they’ll keep their hedge funds and investment deals that allow them the pleasure of swanning about the Mediterranean on the triple-level yacht their wife wanted, smoking cigars and banging a bunch of low-level Euro-trash hookers. I hope they choke on their heroin caviar, because it’s those wankers who’ve got us all into this mess. Yeah, I could blame my need for a 50″ plasma or a six bedroom house when I only need one with three, and how my capitalist lifestyle has simply added fuel to the fire of the impending Western Collapse, but like any good capitalist, I’m gonna try and avoid blame by making it someone else’s problem.
I know where all HER debt is hiding….
So why not let it all go – let the world economy reset to zero like we all thought it would on Y2K? No doubt it’s because the missing-tooth brigade in America’s deep south might say it’s all Osama Bin Laden’s fault (because even in death, that fucker’s still screwing with us all), and then there’d be some holy war between the Westboro Baptist Church and the Islamic Religion like we all hope will happen (seriously, I’d pay to see that) ending in some kind of apocalypse. If we all did revert back to the stone age of economic ruin, though, I guarantee there’s one thing that would make it easier to bear.
We’ll find any reason to put a pic of Kim Kardashian sucking something up here at the Bar None.
Booze. If we all do end up circling the drain of banking misconduct, thanks to the sackless wonders currently running the financial markets, I wanna make sure it’s on public record that I’m gonna be stashing a whole bunch of booze out the back of my house. I suggest you do the same. It’s gonna make fantasizing about that stupid Kardashian cow a whole lot easier when the world ends.
There were a variety of choices for the song from the Juiced-box to accompany this post (high on the list would have been “London’s Burning”, but that would’ve been too obvious) and this was the one which pinged my twisted sense of humor. Enjoy a bit of Twisted Sister.
I haven’t had a drink – of any kind – in about a month. For me, this is nothing new: I’m not what you’d class as a raging alcoholic, nor am I really a social drinker in the true sense of the word. About the only time I’ll drink (with the exception of my pre-Christmas “I Quit My Job” booze-up) is at home with the wife and maybe a few good friends over a well cooked meal and some nice conversation. I go to the bar – I drink Coke or juice. I go to someone else’s party – I drink Coke or juice. I get home from a hard day at work – I drink Coke, and play with my young daughter and watch the children’s programming on TV. Only on the odd occasion do I pull out a bottle of cheap red from the cupboard and swig it like I stole it.
Ahh, now THAT was an awesome party....
If I was a cop in Britain right now, man, I’d be drunk off my gourd and slumped in a dark corner somewhere, waiting for the darkness of unconscious oblivion to swallow me whole. I’d be as far away from London, Manchester, Bristol and wherever else Sony warehouses are burning to the ground, hiding in a dark corner somewhere, my police badge conveniently left at home. I would be so smashed, the mere thought of entertaining a thought about joining the riot squad would begin with the line “An Aussie, a Yank and an Irishman walked into a bar…”.
What a typical Bar None window looks like after a big night...
We’ve all seen the pictures filtering through the poorly orchestrated media circus of Britons swiping, burning, smashing and stealing their way through most of Southern England. Fuck me if that doesn’t look like a wonderful time, eh? Skinheads, punks, skanks, slags and fuckwits just running about with abandon and destroying property and lives because it seems like a good time. I’m almost disappointed that I can’t join in and steal a few plasma TV’s and Reeboks as well – because if you’re gonna have a good riot, then fuck me, why not steal a bunch of shoes. Pansy ass, lowbrow, jut-jawed neanderthal faggots, if you ask me. No disrespect to all good faggots out there, but if all these feral stains can think of is flogging a few shoes, some jewelry and clothing, then England’s worse off than I thought. I trawled the web a little the other day, and not once did I see a bunch of hoodie-wearing fucksticks clambering out of a pub with a few cartons of beer under their arms, scampering away as the cops arrived.
Typical Bar None patron - focussing on the guy with the camera, not the explosion behind him...
For all that’s been stolen, it strikes me as an alarming statistic that (and I’m just making this shit up, now) almost no alcoholic premises were looted for the booze. There’s a fair bit of damage to property, from what I’ve seen, but nobody really thinks of booze as an expensive item to pilfer. I’m no criminal (at least, not that can be proven in a court of law) but I’ll bet some other rioting wanker will be sitting there next week, when all the shit’s died down, slapping his head mumbling something about stocking up on a nice set of Shiraz or Cabernet, instead of pillaging a quickfix of Harold And Kumar BluRays from Blockbuster. Priorities, guys. I’d rather a good drink than a too-small pair of Nikes.
None of these people feel the need to riot. All of them appear to be regulars at the Bar None.
Maybe if these dopey bastards (here in Australia they’d be called “Drongo’s” or some other colloquially cringe-inducing shit by the media) had bothered to flog some booze, go home and get fucked up, we’d have been spared the sight of London burning, people being killed, and vigilante groups arming themselves to combat the violence. A good riot never solves anything, but maybe a few drinks at the local could’ve.
Hi gang! Your semi-irregular tipple-toaster here, settling in at the end of this poorly lit Bar (seriously Al, ever heard of fluorescent lighting?) to castigate and castrate all the news, views and opinion of the last few weeks of… well, news. You’ll have to forgive my drunken rambling, thanks to Al allowing me such a large tab here at the Bar, but there’s a few things that’ve caught my eye over the last little while I just need to vent on. And when I say “vent”, I mean pull out the long forgotten soapbox here behind the Bar and stand on that fucker. Given the Bar None’s recent Dry Zone policy means I not longer filter the horrors of being human through a haze of Johnny Walker or Galiano, it’s brought things into sharp focus… hence the title of this post.
The worlds biggest chicken house?
Is it just me, or has the world gone a little more shitty than normal in the last month or so? America’s teetering on the brink of financial collapse, while a couple of dozen half-wits in Washington play a massive game of chicken with each other, and the rest of the world watches on wondering if the wall-to-wall coverage of impending catastrophe (really, America goes into financial meltdown…. would anybody else care?) is just a beat-up or actually factual. All of this makes the rest of the world wonder if America truly is the greatest nation on Earth. I tell you what, if they do go down, they’re putting up a fight. Debt ceiling? Really?
Bet you wish you'd gone to rehab now, eh?
Singer-songwriter-drugfucked alcoholic Amy Winehouse plays her last gig in a haze of booze, and then bows out in glorious, tabloid-fodder style, for which now we can look forward to decades of “unearthed new material” much like frickin’ Tu Pac or whatever that dudes name was who got shot, died, and then released a dozen albums of new material like he was saving shit up for a rainy day. Christ, they’re gonna hammer this crap until they’ve remixed, remastered and re-released the shit out of her back catalogue, unearthed some unfinished songs and added guest stars like Bono, Bob Geldof and fucking Bill Idol to make some weird “duets” style thing like they did with Sinatra. And we don’t even get any new trashy photos to counteract this oncoming Winehouse storm. Don’t get me wrong: she was an awesome singer, but every dick with a blog and an opinion seems to think she’s a tragic loss to the world. As a songstress, perhaps. As a person? Well, there’s a hundred LiLo wannabes waiting in the wings.
Jackie Chan should make a movie with THIS guy!!
Then there’s the cop in the UK who, after being hit by a fucking car, gets up and chases down the bitchslapper who sideswiped him. Don’t believe me? Watch this. Now that, my friends, is the very definition of TOUGH. Unless he’s a Transformer. In which case, Optimus Prime would upfuck his shitup.
I can hear my own sperm swimming around down there!
Also over in the UK, is a man who can hear his eyeballs moving. No joke (apparently), this dude suffers from some sort of weird scientific problem which means the noises inside his body are louder than those outside – he can literally hear his internal workings going on. You know that old phrase about “not being able to hear yourself think”? Well, this man’s got that problem licked. Makes you wonder if he confuses his farts with thunder.
In a few moments, there will be tears!
Far and away the most disturbing news of the week, though, at least not related to the US financial crisis, is this report about underage kids drinking to excess in the US. What’s most troubling to me is that the people drinking to excess aren’t even old enough for their balls to drop or their boobs to fill out – kids as young as 12 are getting blind drunk every weekend or so, and not only that, but also sitting back with a bit of pot to go with it. What. The. Fuck. This article/report almost speaks for itself in the question which would immediately form on most peoples lips: who’s buying these kids their booze? What’s scary is that I’ve no doubt whatsoever that this kind of thing is happening all around the world as well; Australia’s no exception to the youthfully drunk, and it’s a major, major social problem.
Will she blow? Will she?
The space shuttle returned to Earth after its last trip to the most expensive hang-out in the world (or, above it…) and the world paused for about, oh, three minutes to reflect on all the Shuttle Program brought us. Can anybody name the astronauts on that last shuttle? Without Googling it? Nope, neither can I. The fact that everyone’s lost interest in the Shuttle missions was probably the biggest factor in deciding to give it up. I mean, unless you’re going to the moon, or sending people to Mars, the whole thing just wasn’t exciting any more. So they packed up, sent the smart dudes home to their parents, and gave the private sector a mission to “capture the flag” – Richard Branson must be near-orgasmic with glee that now he’s got an excuse to burn up billions of dollars in research and development to send some poor sap up there.
Unspeakable tragedy.... impossible sorrow.
Almost overshadowing the news of Amy Winehouse’s death the other weekend was the news that some utter fuck-knuckle in Norway decided he’d had enough of behaving himself and went and a) blew up some shit, and b) shot a bunch of innocent kids at a political camp. What the news services couldn’t get over, though, was how White Anglo Saxon this dude looked – I mean, he wasn’t Muslim, wasn’t any kind of ethnic minority they could easily pigeonhole, and when pressed for his reasons, expressed himself in an articulate and deliberate manner. Sure, he’s a deranged psycho, but he didn’t go out with a bullet to the skull or blowing himself to whatever God he believes in (or doesn’t) with a few pounds of TNT. Goddamit, this guy seemed, on the outside, to be one of us. Which is scary. He had the self-belief to stay alive and hand himself into the police when they arrived on that island. No last-stand suicide, no blaze of glory run-at-the-cops-and-get-mown-down-in-slo-mo stuff. Personally, I don’t even think that fucker deserves to breath the same oxygen as we do – take him out the back, shoot him in the head and bury his corpse in some landfill somewhere, and forget about him. No trial, no fucking circus, just death and that’s it. I’m not a believer in the death penalty, but in this case, no amount of incarceration is ever going to do this stain justice.
BAM! Your'e owned!
The UK reeled after Sauron himself, along with his son Little Johnny Packer, wheeled himself into British Parliament to answer questions about the massive phone hacking scandal, and ended up being smacked with a foam pie by some “comedian” fellow. Rupert Murdoch might be a control freak undead walking corpse, but he didn’t need that. T’was funny as hell, though. In other news, I’m glad the wankers behind that phone hacking crap are getting taken to task about it all. Seriously, who thinks tapping into peoples phones is a good idea? There’s no justification at all for that, and those slimy dickheads thought deleting a few messages on some poor dead girls phone would be a good laff as well. Man, I’d skip the lawsuits and go hire an assassin, if I was one of the victims.
Just how much longer can this all last?
All this makes me ask the Big Question of the Week. What kind of world are we living in? Is it just me, or is shit getting worse? Perhaps those nutjobs gabbing on about the Mayan calendar ending in 2012 are on to something? Boy, I can’t wait until humanity enters some kind of Star Trek styled utopia and all crime is eliminated, or Roland Emmerich gets to actually destroy the world for real. I’m sure he’d love it.
Now, send down another bottle of Scotch, Al. I’m done for today!
Hot Rod is a guest writer here at The Bar None, but you can catch his more serious side over at his movie blog, Fernby Films.