Archive for the ‘Having No Pants On’ Category

1. Your profile. BAM!

2. cryptic Status Updates That Look For Attention
“OMG Whoos callin u dude?”
“They know who they are, I’m not going to say anything”


3. See Who Your Biggest Stalker Is apps.
Firstly, none of these things work. Facebook isn’t a list of information that can be manipulated into any combination of teenage neo-faggot apps that deliver the news that the hottest chick in your Facebook Friends list has been secretly checking out your ugly ass photos taken from your mobile phone in your bathroom. It’s Not. Gunna. Happen.

If you think you have no chance on god’s earth with someone, thennnnn ya don’t. OK?

Secondly, if you’re a chick and you have heaps of photos of you flouncing about in undies/nude/duck face poses in your bathroom then you don’t don’t need an app to tell you who’s stalking you, you just need me: EVERY FUCKING DUDE IN YOUR FRIEND LIST. THEY ARE CHECKING OUT YOUR FINE ASS AND BANGING TITTIES. Don’t like it? TAKE DOWN THE SLUT PICS THEN.

4. Serial Likers and Serial Pokers.
Scotty AssassinMc thinks everything is shit and fuck everyone
Puppy Fart *likes this*

5. Saliva Dripping Sleeze Balls That Add Hot Chicks They Don’t Know.
Almost every one of my female mates are drop dead gorgeous. Some of them so much that they are models, which means they put up a lot of their modelling pics. Good for them, I reckon. But then each of the photos they post comes this under it, from people you have never seen or heard of before:

Tom Dickenharry: Helloooo!
Harry Muffdiver: Woah girl! SO HOT lol
Barry Dumbcunt: Man if I was only 50 years younger lol!
John Isreallysmall: Sexy sexy sexy. Wish u wer on my beach! LOL
Random Fuckwit: Hey are those metal earrings? I love metal! We shud cach up and talk metal (meaning I want to rape your ass)


Rule 1: Chicks don’t choose a suitor from Facebook Comments, nor does it turn them on
Rule 2: Chicks like to have sex with a) People they know, and b) PEOPLE WHO AREN’T OLD FAT SLEEZY GREASEBALLS

So look, take your hand off it, do some laps of a pool or find thrity by anything but walking to KFC, buy clothes from somewhere besides Target, get a personality and go out and talk to ACTUAL REAL WOMEN. You might get laid if you’re lucky.


1. You don’t have to listen to lame, pseudo intelligent, meaningless artwank lyrics.
Fuck yeah, I think I just coined the term “artwank”.

You guys know exactly what I mean too, don’t you. I love music like I love eating food, I don’t give a flying fuck about how it’s presented. It’s the act of absorbing it that feels so good.

I’m sick and tired of bands that concentrate on making songs with pretentious, sooky lyrics trying to come across deep and important. I don’t give a fuck about your inner anguish or interpretation of heroin addiction. I want to nod my head like it’s a bobble head on a Hummers dashboard in Afganistan. By the way, the next person I hear describing a band, or any art for that matter, as “important” I will swiftly reply to with Deadly Face Fist of Judah. Road safety and good nutrition is important, bands are not fucking important.

Rammstein have solved this problem with extreme ingenuity; they sing in German so I have no fucking clue what they’re on about anyway. Even if you are German, you still don’t understand them because Till Lindemann just sounds like a grizzly bear eating a chainsaw and you’re too busy putting the flames out on your girlfriend’s face because you were too close to the stage.

2. Your band doesn’t shoot flames out of their face and deploy fireworks at the crowd.
Like I need to expand on this. Flames. Out of their faces. Can your band do this?


3. Best name, ever.
I can’t think of anything that is better than having the words “stein” and “ram” in your name. Are they named after the act of forcibly cramming a huge mug of beer down your throat? Probably not, but who cares! I like to think they are. Even saying it makes me happy. LDLDLDLDLDLAAAHM SHTEEEEYYYN.

4. They can be ironic without trying to be.
Arty faggots love irony. It’s the unoriginal artist’s emergency imagination. The only time irony is cool in any artform and especially music, is when it’s not forced. What the fuck am I on about?

Stay with me.

I watched Rammstein live the other night. They came on stage for an hour, and in that hour they managed to shoot flames out of every place possible including their face, play drums using explosions, wheel a huge cauldron on stage wearing a chefs hat and apron smeared in blood then shot flames at it, shoot pyrotechnics at the crowd, then at themselves, induce nightmares in the mind of every sleeping child within a 50 kilometre radius, appease Satan, ride a giant penis around the stage shooting paper jizz all over the crowd…

and then bowed ever so politely to the crowd and in a nice little voice said “Danke shoen” then left.

That ass fucked my mind.

5. Pure, unadulterated entertainment.
Rammstein don’t just punch out their best tunes with amazing fidelity, you can feel the heat from the flame throwers, you can see the firworks and stage antics, you can smell burning fuel, and when a cloud of confetti begins to float toward the ground after being shot off stage… you can reach out and touch it. It is truly an immersion of the senses.

Tool came on stage directly after Rammstein finished and immediately disappointed me. Now, Tool and disappointment are not two things that often go together. I love Tool, as do millions upon millions of people across the globe. But what they did, I can experience by putting my iPod in my ears. In better quality sound, too.

Tool, like many other bands, go on stage and just sing their songs and then leave. You quickly get over the wow factor that your favourite band is right there in front of you, then it’s time to add more to your senses what the album you just bought already has. Many like to defend this behaviour, especially Tool, with “it’s all about the music, not the band.”

This is a cop out. Let me fucking tell you something.

It’s not about either, it’s about the fans. The people who buy your albums, who pay over-inflated ticket prices to see you live, who supply you with a huge income and opportunity to live out your dream lifestyle making and sharing music with others. We bought your fucking album and know what it sounds like, and now we’ve paid 10 times the price to come see you live. Make with the witty stories, theatrics and fireworks you fucking smug human dukebox because you’re being left behind by people who can’t even speak English.

6. Your band doesn’t shoot flames out of their face and deploy fireworks at the crowd.

7. Rammstein teaches bogans culture and how to speak German.
Now we all know how stupid bogans are. They are the people who have just discovered Facebook and change their status each day to something about fighting someone, people who think Kirk Cobain was a hero for blowing his head apart with a shot gun because he was a drug riddled emo, people who wear clothing that advertises cars like Ford, Holden and other cars that can’t turn a corner doing more than 30km/h.

People who think bourbon tastes good.

Rammstein has the benefit of appealing to bogans due to the lead singer’s voice sounding like a Tyrannosaurus Rex fucking a Harley Davidson. Thankfully, it suits the music they do perfectly which means smart people like you and me like it too. Bogans also have a curious need to make meaning out of every song’s lyrics  so they can make learned conversation over dinner at the pub. To do this with Rammstein means to sit for hours on Google Translate, systematically going through each line of each song and then deciphering it into something that makes sense. Here’s the funny bit though, hardly any of it does. Sucked in, bogans.

8. Federal Department for Media Harmful to Young Persons has banned their latest album.
In Germany you can show porn to kids, they allow women to grow hair anywhere on the body below their neck,  you can buy a beer in Mc Donalds, but Rammstein’s album is banned. This is fucking hardcore.

Other things that are dangerous to children include nuclear testing, knife fighting, heroin injections and pools filled with razorblades.

But your favourite band is probably on my grandmother’s iPod.

9. The guitarist’s name is Paul Landers.
His last name is really fucking Landers. That’s so fucking rockstar that it makes Freddie Mercury look gay, and Freddie Mercury IS gay.

10. This.

Guys are getting soft, I mean really soft. I’m going to say some things to those of you who have gone soft, you may not like it, but this is tough love.

IMPORTANT MESSAGE TO THE GAY COMMUNITY: You guys are cool, but I am claiming back the word “faggot” and re-assigning it to heterosexual males that act like princesses, it’s called a neo-faggot. You guys don’t like the word anyway and don’t deserve it, so I’m taking it. If you are homosexual, you have every right and reason to jump around like Dorothy on the Yellow Brick Road, but hetero males should either come out or act like a hetero. Furthermore, people who are ACTUALLY GAY are MORE MANLY than hetero guys that flounce about like pork-chops wearing Spinners underwear and salmon shirts anyway, this includes drag queens. Finally, I am giving the gay community full rights to use my new word-assignment toward hetero faggots when ever they please.

IMPORTANT MESSAGE TO HETEROSEXUAL MEN: If you do any of the below then you are a neo-faggot. All men are egos wrapped in penis tissue then loaded with sperm and set to “auto-target”. EVERYTHING men do is somehow related to getting a root. Thing is, some men just get it without trying, you see: Women are geared to have children, they are genetically wired to be attracted to strong, safe, mentally and emotionally stable partners. This means although they aren’t attracted to complete slobs, they still like a little rougness around the edges. They want a hunter, and if YOU were alive in caveman days, you would have gathered berrys. NO woman likes someone who is a bigger princess than they are, they want to fuck someone that doesn’t shave his legs or use up all of her Schwarzkopf Professional Color Management System.

I have seen this a lot lately, guys that pout in a fucking photo. No, really, YOU’RE NOT IN A PLAYBOY SHOOT, AND IF YOU WERE, THAT WOULD MEAN YOU HAVE A VAGINA. STOP PRETENDING YOU HAVE A VAGINA. FAGGOT.

2. Popped collars.
You have only ONE reason to do this, if you are in the middle of the desert on a top secret mission looking for Al Queida missle locations on a 47 degree day. THERE ARE NO TERRORISTS IN SUBIACO OR LEEDERVILLE, EXCEPT YOU TERRORISING THE FASHION COMMUNITY. STOP IT, IT LOOKS LIKE YOUR NECK HAS LABIA.

3. Asking your mates out for coffee.
NO. This is not how it is done, fellas. When you want to see your mates and hang out, YOU OFFER THEM THE OPPORTUNITY TO CHAR GRILL DEAD ANIMALS WHILE DRINKING BEER. And NEVER under ANY circumstance refer to the TYPE or BRAND of beer, IT’S JUST CALLED BEER. Also, if you have serious aspirations of becoming a real man, you need a boobies BBQ apron but DO NOT WEAR IT. Give it to your best mate to wear and assure him he is a big girl. HURT HIS FEELINGS, THAT’S HOW TO SHOW YOUR MATE HE IS OK AND CAN STICK AROUND.

4. Having hair that looks like a peacock.
It looks stupid, for a start, and just because your hot hair stylist tells you it’s sexy doesn’t mean she wants to bang you after it’s done, it means she wants to charge you more than a #1 with the clippers. Fucking idiot, shave it off or get a mohawk with razorblades, but faux-hawks are only cool on David Beckham because he already knows he can fuck every woman in the universe. You can’t so stop having a faggot haircut.

5. The pointy dance.
The worst dance on EARTH is that fucking dance that guys do turning their body from left to right while pointing to their shoes. I am renaming it to “The Faggot Dance”. Fuck you if you dance like that, I hope you fall out of a plane and land in Somalia.

6. Coordinate with your mates.
You can SET COORDINATES with your mates, then drive there, but you cannot COLOUR COORDINATE with them. I’ve seriously seen this, at music festivals ALL the time.

7. Cry
Besides a) when your baby is born, or b) if prohibition is ever re-indtroduced.

8. Not have AC/DC on your iPod.
Even if you don’t like their music it is MANDATORY that you carry AC/DC on your iPod at ALL TIMES. This is compulsory behaviour and is in the Bible.

9. Being 6′ 5″ and fighting fit is no excuse to slap a man’s bum.
I’m looking at you, AFL players. Just because you’re a big bastard does not exlemplify you from being a neo-faggot. What the HELL is with the bum tapping business? It’s already bad enough that you don’t play a real man’s game like Rugby OH YES I FUCKING DID.

10. Bike pants.
I’m going to leave you nut out this one yourself. It’s not rocket science.

It’s Thursday and I’ve got no pants on. Fuck you, internet.