Archive for the ‘Nightmares’ Category

The news of the death of Osama Bin Laden has sparked what can only be perceived as celebration throughout the world, if the images beamed from each television station are anything to go by. But is it something to celebrate?

Personally, I think we need to consider a few things before we start hollering “yeeee-heew”, spitting tabaccy in glee and shooting our guns into the air.

  1. Terrorism in Perspective.
    The first thing to think about is this: what the fuck have we been worried about? The War On Terror is one of the most ridiculous things the allied nations have ever concentrated their efforts and resources on. For a start, the threat of terrorism is so microscopic compared to issues such as road safety that it is completely disproportionate in regards to expenditure versus priority. In fact, over the last 50 years, the amount of American citizens killed in international terrorist incidents has been no more than the amount struck by lightening.There is no denying the massive loss of innocent life caused by Bin Laden in the September 11, 2001 attacks is one of history’s saddest days. But when we compare this to the amount of people who have died in the search for him and the associated War On Terror, it pales in comparison. The US military death toll in Iraq surpassed the 9/11 benchmark in 2005, and this doesn’t even take into account civilian and related conflict casualties. The entire world reaction to the September 11 attacks and associated conflicts has caused a death toll reaching over one hundred thousand. (1)(2)(3)
  2. It’s Not Something To Be Proud Of.
    First off, it took the culmination of the most powerful and advanced countries on Earth ten years to find him. But more importantly it appears people around the world, especially the United States, have confused justice with revenge. Judging by some of the comments made by a handful (and thankfully a minority) of my American friends on Facebook and the scenes of crowds in New York waving American flags and chanting “U.S.A, U.S.A…” it looks more like America won some kind of world sporting event, which as the major world competitive sports such as soccer, cricket and rugby enthusiasts will know, is preposterous.If anything this should be a sombre day to remember the victims of the attacks he orchestrated, and it will hopefully bring some closure to the victim’s families. But it’s not something you should be celebrating, it was never a competition.
  3. It Changes Nothing.
    Terrorism wasn’t invented by Bin Laden, and killing him hasn’t made the world any safer. The fact the Bush administration made him the poster boy of terrorism doesn’t make the guy any more significant as a terrorist threat. The only claim to infamy he has is the scale of innocent non-combatant human life which he killed, and that all depends on how you define terrorism. Which ever way you look at it, it comes right down the list underneath the Holocaust and other mass human destruction such as, say, dropping an atomic bomb on Hiroshima.
  4. We Probably Just Made Things Worse.
    If our faux-Islamic crusader friends at Al Qaeda didn’t have much to be shitty about before, they sure as hell do now. The Australian Government is now advising everyone not to travel, and if they are already are overseas, to stay indoors due to an enhanced violence risk toward Westerners. To be completely honest, I felt safer while Osama was alive.(4)
  5. Invasion of Iraq, What The Fuck.
    The War On Terror has helped cement the Western World as aggressors to many nations, none more so than the invasion of Iraq in our search for “Weapons of Mass Destruction”, the witch of the 21st Century. For a country that had absolutely no ties to Osama Bin Laden or Al Qaeda, we certainly pissed it off enough that it now does. And don’t even get me started on the amount of ancient history that has been destroyed because of it.(3)
  6. We Have Much Bigger Things To Worry About.
    While the Western World has been measuring our dick size in Afghanistan and Iraq against the Islamic World’s equivalent of Westboro Baptist Church, almost 4 million people have died in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The war in the Congo is the most deadliest conflict since World War II and no-one has done a thing, in fact as of 2011, the UN have completely pulled out of the conflict zone, leaving the entire population in the hands of rebel infested anarchy. This to me says to all that the hunt for Bin Laden had nothing to do with making the world safer and everything to do with greed, revenge and dick size.(5)(6)
  7. We Have Learned Nothing.
    After all the people that have died, we seem to have forgotten that Osama Bin Laden was trying to bring something to our attention. Our attention he sure got, but (most probably due to the hideously dim-witted way he went about it) we didn’t get the message. Most of Bin Laden’s reasoning behind the attacks he directed are his own skewed interpretations of, and contrary to, Islamic beliefs.But much of what our governments like to tell us, such as the hatred of western culture, is simply not the case and is more just to divert our attention from the fact that it is mostly our foreign policies that are the motivation for extremist activities. The western world’s stance and policies concerning the Israeli–Palestinian conflict is also a common theme, and of all the things Bin Laden got wrong, he may possibly have been right about this. But that’s a whole new ball game.(7)

Works Cited

1. Six Rather Unusual Propositions about Terrorism. Muellera, John. 2005, Terrorism and Political Violence, pp. 487 – 505.

2. U.S. deaths in Iraq, war on terror surpass 9/11 toll. CNN.com. [Online] CNN, September 3rd, 2006. [Cited: May 2, 2011.] http://edition.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/meast/09/03/death.toll/.

3. Scahill, Jeremy. Jeremy Scahill on Killing of Bin Laden: Obama Has “Doubled Down on Bush Administration Policy of Targeted Assassination”. Democracy Now! New York : http://www.democracynow.org, May 2nd, 2011.

4. Enhanced Risk of Anti-Western Violence. Smartraveller. [Online] Australian Government’s travel advisory and consular information service., May 2nd, 2011. [Cited: 5 2, 2011.] http://www.smartraveller.gov.au/zw-cgi/view/TravelBulletins/Enhanced_Risk_of_Anti-Western_Violence.

5. Robinson, Simon. The Deadliest War in The World. TIME.com. [Online] Time Magazine, May 28th, 2006. [Cited: May 2nd, 2011.] http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1198921,00.html.

6. Kemp, Ross.
Ross Kemp’s Extreme World – Congo. Democratic Republic of the Congo : Sky1, 2010. Video Documentary.

7. Understanding Terrorism: 20 basic facts. Borgu, Aldo. 2004, Strategic Insights, pp. 1 – 10.

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1. Your profile. BAM!

2. cryptic Status Updates That Look For Attention
“Lex Windows WISHES YOU WOULD STOP CALLING ME FFS”
“OMG Whoos callin u dude?”
“They know who they are, I’m not going to say anything”

WHAT? YOU JUST FUCKING DID, YOU FANTASTIC DICKHEAD.

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*
FUCK OFF

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)

HELLO, SLEEZE BAGS… CAN I HAVE A SECOND PLEASE?

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
Rule 3: Chicks that are STEAMING HOT in BIKINIS while MODELLING ON A BEACH, how can I put this, er, YOU DON’T HAVE A CHANCE IN LIONFUCK OF GETTING.

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?

NEIN

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.
Flames. FLAMES OUT OF THEIR FUCKING FACES.

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.

A nightmare, fresh from the pillow.

Posted: November 25, 2009 in Nightmares
Tags:

I’ve just woken from one of the nightmares I have been having lately. It’s 1:30am, I went to bed four hours ago. They aren’t like monsters and ghosts kinda nightmares. They’re vivid and stressful, high anxiety, bad situations, and always involve the safety of my friends and myself. I have them nightly. My laptop is open and switched on and I’ve wanted to document one of these, as I forget them quickly. This one is still fresh in my mind and I’m actually typing this introduction last, what you read underneath is typed rapidly, fresh from memory of the dream and about to be spell checked…

I’m at a house, it’s all opened up, it’s a massive house. French doors everywhere, all open, huge glass windows open too. No curtains. I’m there with lots of friends, I think it is my house but it’s not a house I recognize. My friends all need to go get stuff from the shops, all of them at once and so they pile into two cars, one is a big truck, like a big Ford F250.

They all leave and I yell to grab me a few things. They drive off. I’m alone, I’m not completely certain they are coming back but I think they are.

A drunken mob are walking past on the street, an older man and lady in the group are arguing loudly. One of them, the old man, drunkenly starts walking into my house. I’m out the back. I quickly run and grab him, gently and say “It’s OK mate, but this is my house, wrong house, but it’s OK” trying to calm him. The drunken mob are at my door now.

A large, burley member of the group starts yelling at me and I’m saying back “It’s OK, I’m not trying to hurt anyone or start a fight, he’s OK, it’s just the wrong house you have come into.” The burley man isn’t having it or listening to me. He wants to attack me. Suddenly there are some new friends, but they aren’t my close friends. They are just people I know. It’s like they’ve been there the whole time. The drunken mob are now starting fights with everyone.

I’m not sure what to do to, they are all big and have weapons now. I run out the back and try to find my phone, I’m calling my friends, no I’m calling the Police, I don’t know who I’m calling, it’s like a combination of the two. I’m just calling for help. I’m looking for a weapon, something big and blunt, but everything in the back shed is sharp or bladed or spiked. I don’t want to hurt anyone, I can’t use any of this, I don’t want bloodshed. I just want to scare away these people.

I run back out the front with nothing and I can’t dial the number I am trying to dial, the biggest man has what looks like a hand-held sickle in his hand and is now holding the point of it firmly to my friend’s throat. He’s really hurting my friend. The situation has escalated immensely and this guy is really not afraid to use this weapon, he’s angry and he’s using my friend to lure me to him. He wants to use the sickle on me.

I run back out the back and there are guns, rifles, heaps of them, all hanging up like potplants, everywhere. I think they are my Dad’s. I know none of them have bullets. Should I try to call his bluff? Should I just point one and yell? I know he will call me on it and I will not be able to fire a warning shot which will just make him more furious, then I see it. It’s an old WW1 303 Enfield. It has blanks in it.

I grab it and load the first blank into the chamber running back for the front door but the old man has seen me load it and yells to the burley man “It’s just a blank”. I fire it anyway and yell “The police are on the way right now.” The burley man looks stunned after I fire the shot, everyone looks stunned at first. I think I’ve tricked them and they will leave, but then he releases my friend and tells me I’m about to die. My friends are gone again and I’m alone. They didn’t leave me or run away, they just weren’t there. Like a mirage. I’m trying to close all the doors and windows in the house but there are too many.

I run. I jump into the next door neighbor’s yard, it’s filled with long tall gardens. He is chasing me, looking for me. I’m frantically dialling my phone but I can’t use it, and I can’t run properly. I’m grabbing at the ground like it’s up-hill at a steep incline. I dive into a patch of tall flowers and shrubs but he sees me. He’s coming. I can hear him coming, I can hear my breath on the ground. I wake up.