Sunday, July 11, 2010

Got my eye on you.

Pazzwizzle has nearly crusted over, like a delicious tin of baked beans left out in the sun too long. So, like the spoon I used this morning to eat that shit, I'm going to crack this bitch open.

Our spoon today? Literal lyrics.

Where better to start cracking than some indie-pop. Recently doing the rounds on Triple J was a song 'Dancing On My Own' by a Swedish pop singer-songwriter Robyn. Remember her? She's released 5 albums full of cheesey Euro-pop ballads. Also, upon research, I found out that she sang this song. That fucker was in every damn romantic comedy released in the mid-90s. The message you should be getting here? She's generic as all hell.

Anyway, lets not go jumping to conclusions. She's on Triple J. She's cleaned up her act and become an indie darling, right? Right?

Somebody said you got a new friend
Does she love you better than I can?

Jealous much? Settle down Robyn, this girl is a new friend of mine, we've not even had dinner together yet, let alone discussed the tricky concept of love. But she's got amazing core body strength, so yeah, she probably does "love" me better than you can.

Also, I take offence to the grammatical structure of that sentence. I've seen better use of the English language written on fridges in those little plastic magnet letters. (Hint: the number 6 can be used as the letter G.)

Big black sky over my town
I know where you at, I bet she’s around

You know where I'm at? Are you stalking me? Not a good way to win a man back Robyn.

Yeah, I know it’s stupid

Okay, cool, you're admitting that stalking is stupid. Can we just be friends? Not friends that love each other, just like, "Oh hi, how are you?" friends.

I just gotta see it for myself

See what? My new friend and I? I think I might need to call the police.

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her
I’m right over here, why can’t you see me

Yep, definitely calling the police.

I’m giving it my all but I’m not the girl you’re taking home
I keep dancing on my own

You're giving it your all dancing on your own? No offence Robyn, but you probably look like a weirdo. If you want to be taken home by someone, whether it's me or just some random dude with a goatee, you've got to start dancing with other people. Get your slut on. Gyrate on someone's thigh. Make the shy looking creepy kid buy you a drink. Do whatever it takes. Trashbags aren't born, they're made.

I’m just gonna dance all night
I’m all messed up, I’m so outta line

That's the spirit! Get messed up, pop some pills, vomit into your clutch. Men can smell your desperation, and it's turning them on.

Stilettos and broken bottles
I’m spinnin’ around in circles

Woo! Robyn, you're out of control! Be careful though, if you bump into one of those security guards, they'll probably kick you out.

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her
I’m right over here, why can’t you see me
I’m giving it my all but I’m not the girl you’re taking home
I keep dancing on my own

My God that's creepy. You've got to think of a new pick-up line. This whole desperate thing isn't going to work for long. Once guys realise that you'll start crying 15 seconds into sex and wont stop until they sing you to sleep, you're probably going to have trouble scoring. Trust me, I know.

So far away but still so near
(the lights go on, the music dies)

Wow, how long have you been standing there Robyn? The club is closing up and you're still in the corner dancing on your own?

But you don’t see me standing here
(I just came to say goodbye)

Nope, probably because I've already left with my new friend. We got pretty drunk, started making out, decided we'd head back to my place to see how much we could "love" each other before we passed out. But have fun being carefully guided out by the bouncers. Give them a note to pass on to me. I'm pretty close with them. In fact, I'm pretty good friends with everyone who was at that club except you. What to know why? Because you're a fucking creep, that's why.

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her,
I’m right over here, why can’t you see me,
I’m giving it my all but I’m not the girl you’re taking home
I keep dancing on my own
(I keep dancing on my own...)

Holy crap Robyn, did you follow me home? I'm sure I took my spare key back off you. What's that? You made another copy? Seriously, get the fuck out. I'm definitely calling the police. Yes, that's my new friend. No, she doesn't want to meet you. Now would you piss off? And stop fucking dancing, you look like an epileptic who needs to pee.

If any of you want to meet my new friend, this is her:

(Hint: She's the one in the speaker suit.)

Friday, May 21, 2010

Stranger danger.

So a few weeks ago, I got a message on Facebook.

In case you're wondering, that's a girl's name hidden under the pink rectangle. For her sake (and his) I've censored all names in the pictures. They will be henceforth known as Pink and Black.

So, do I know Pink? Interesting question. I had no idea where this was headed.

As a bit of background, Pink added me on Facebook about a year ago. I didn't know her at the time, but I assumed she was someone who I'd met at some theatre thing, so I accepted. Nothing else was said.

I took my best guess.

Adelaide? Wow, obviously I didn't know her. Strange. Why would she add me? I decided to just leave it, in the hope that this guy would go away.

Lucky for me, he didn't.

As you can see, this escalated very quickly. One moment I was minding my own business, the next I was being accused of fucking some random from Adelaide.

So, I retaliated.

My teacher tone worked, because Black quickly changed his attitude.

Aww, poor thing almost seemed desperate. By this point, I was hooked. I was like a cat with an injured mouse.

Time to play.

It was all too easy. Time to kick it up a notch.

Turn the dial to 11.

Now turbo-charge it.

I now had Black in the palm of my hand.

Although, my constant question asking started to bore him. Black pressed me for details.

I had to give him something or he was going to get away.

Notice that I still haven't yet lied to Black. I wanted to avoid that as much as possible. I just fed him what he wanted to hear, and he filled in the blanks.

Okay, so I kind of lied then. But I needed to buy myself some time.

Black wouldn't leave it alone though. I almost felt sorry for him.

He'd clearly be treated pretty poorly by this Pink chick.

But then again, he also came at my like a spider monkey, so he wasn't getting off that easily.

I'd lost him. Well, it was fun while it lasted Black.

I wasn't going to play fair anymore.

In case you're interested, that link went here: Pink

Oh, I almost forgot. Just before I made that "rash" comment, Pink messaged me.

I got this one too.

And this.

She's clearly a keeper. I tried to keep Pink quiet by confusing her.

Unfortunately, she got to Black before I could cause any more trouble.

In case you're interested, that link when here: Black

Pink, on the other hand, she was just getting started.

And then, possibly my favourite message of the whole exchange.

Black had one last pearl of wisdom left in him as well.

And that was it. I haven't heard from Pink or Black since. It was one a hell of a ride. I don't think I've ever met more gullible, misguided souls than those two. They are perfect for each other.

I'm going to let them know about this, and maybe I'll have an update. But only if you're very well behaved.

Remember kids, don't talk to strangers. They might be smarter than you.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Pazzwizzle does his taxes.

I discovered this yesterday while I was looking through my e-mail inbox.

I am a silly bitch.

date: Wed, Jun 17, 2009 at 1:36 AM
subject: Relocation


In January 2010 Prudential sends out Tax Information regarding your
relocation move that you may need for your Income Tax. We need to have
your new address so you will receive this information.

Please respond with the new address to this email.

Thank you.

Janice Hayes
Marketing Property Specialist
Phone: 480-778-6732
Fax: 480-778-7067 or 866-597-4171
Email Address:

Naturally, I responded.

from: Tom Lynch
date: Fri, Jun 19, 2009 at 12:08 PM
subject: Re: Relocation


Just between you and me, I do not planning on paying any Income Tax.
I disagree with a lot of the government's decisions this year.
So I have decided to protest in my own way, as is well within my rights.
As such, do you think you could just send the tax information to whatever address you have on file?
I'll delete this e-mail and just pretend the forms got lost in the mail.

Thank you for your help.


I didn't hear any further from Janice, no doubt because my response probably included "from: Tom Lynch" in the e-mail, but it was fun none the less.

I felt a bit like David Thorne.

I secretly want to do more of this stuff in the future. Preferably while listening to this song:

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Internet Hero 2: The Pajama Boys

So the title should probably be Internet Heroes, as technically there are two people in the glorious series of videos I accidentally found on the weekend. I was looking for footage of the comedy duo 'The Pajama Men' who had a show on Saturday night at the Powerhouse. Sensibly, I punched this into YouTube and figured I'd find at least a videophone recording of one of their gigs.

Either they have a really good legal team or no one records their shows because they're shit and having to relive the memory of seeing it is physically painful, because there is not a single video on YouTube of their show. However, what I did find, was just as good, if not better.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet...


Yes, they're wearing onesies. And yes, they're matching onesies. Zach and Dakota (poor kid, he's either named after this adorable spawn of Satan, a place where the state beverage is milk, or a 1945 Western staring John Wayne) are "dancers boi!" who enjoy nothing more than "dancing boi!". What they lack in variety, they make up for in enthusiasm.

Despite the fact they only have three videos uploaded, they already have their own website. Good thinking boys. When that fame train comes, and by golly it will, you'll be ready to jump on board and start handing out tickets.

There isn't much on the website besides links to their videos. I was the 9th and 10th visitor. Assuming they were on there at least once to set it all up, there are seven other people out there who have seen the future of entertainment. And let me tell you, it's hopped-the-fuck-up on sugar.

To illustrate, here is the majority of the text on their website:

Hello, welcome to our website of The Pajama Men's official website!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Soon we will be adding photos, stuff in the store, and more videos!

We get it kids, this is a website. The fact we're on the internet was a bit of a give-away. Oh, and you'll notice they love exclamation points.

Now to the actual dancing. Well, it's not really dancing, it's more convulsing with purpose. Zach and Dakota kick and flail their way around what I can only assume is a bedroom. I don't know whose bedroom it is. In fact, I don't even know if Zach and Dakota are related. Their matching onesies and similar facial features seems to imply as such, however they could easily be best friends. Or lovers.

I was going to investigate these two enigma's further (Zach has two other YouTube profiles.. Two!) but I feared that might be a rabbit hole from which I would never emerge. Instead, I'll just let you watch the magic unfold for yourself.

This is The Pajama Men dancing to 'Poker Face' by Lady Gaga.

I bet she's jealous of their outfits.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

It's all he said, she said.

Literal lyrics is back again and boy do we have a doozy this week. The song: 'According To You'. The artist: Orianthi. We're off to a bad start. She sounds like a tropical disease. Am I going to need to get a vaccination before listening to her? She's an Australian girl who was meant to be the guitarist on Michael Jackson's 'This Is It' tour before he mysteriously died. I don't want to start throwing around accusations, but that's a bit too much of a coincidence. I think this girl should be a prime suspect. Get the doctor out of jail. Look at that guy. He's completely harmless. He's like a cross between Obama and Humphrey B. Bear. This chick, with her two-tone hair and her ripped leather tights, has got trouble written all over her. Trouble and the word 'murderer' in pink highlighter.

Turn to page 1, now.

According to you
I’m stupid,
I’m useless,
I can’t do anything right.

According to me? Wow, I'm a bit tough. Stupid and useless. Like sure, be stupid, but at least have some use. Like be good at holding cups. Or drawing squares.

According to you
I’m difficult,
hard to please,
forever changing my mind.
I’m a mess in a dress,
can’t show up on time,
even if it would save my life.
According to you. According to you.

Jeez, I said all of that? I can't help but feel that I probably have a decent reason for my insults. I'm sure if you were a competent human being I would have no reason to be so cruel. How about a little bit of reflection on your own actions Orianthi. Maybe you're not as great as you think you are. People who are late do tend to piss me off. Perhaps a watch could help. Also, this whole "even if it would save my life" business, what is with that? In what situation would your lateness cause your own death? I doubt you're going to be abducted by some psychopath who then demand you get him somewhere on time or else he's going to kill you. Similarly, if it's a medical emergency, it's your own fault if you've left your run to the hospital that late that lateness could mean the end of your life. I suspect that if you're in that position you wouldn't be able to drive anyway. Invest in a diary.

But according to him
I’m beautiful,
he can’t get me out of his head.

Well, this guy sound nice. Glad to hear you've found someone supportive. I can't help but notice he's not very specific though. Like he's gone with some broad compliments. Meanwhile, I was pretty specific about your problems. Like not looking good in a dress. He's just kind of saying the usual stuff someone who is in a new relationship says. I'm sure you're not the first person he's said it to, and you probably wont be the last.

According to him
I’m funny,
everything he ever wanted.

Again, very general praise. Also, what exactly does he mean by "funny"? Haha funny or weird funny? Laugh at you or laugh with you? Maybe he has a poor sense of humour. Maybe he has low standards. I don't want to bring you down Orianthi, but this guy sounds... underwhelming. Plus, what's with bragging about how great your new relationship is to me, your ex-boyfriend? You don't hear me talking about how great my new girlfriend is. Sure, I haven't got one yet, but if I did, I wouldn't be rubbing it in your face.

Everything is opposite,
I don’t feel like stopping it,
so baby tell me what I got to lose.

Everything is opposite? Like, this entire song? Does he really not think your funny? Do I actually think you look great in a frock? Now I'm confused. Assuming it is Opposite Day, then you have everything to lose.

He’s into me for everything I’m not,
according to you.

I said, "he's into you for everything you're not"? Oh snap, me. This does imply that he's not interested in anything that you are, which is concerning. But at least you're happy.

According to you
I’m boring,
I’m moody,
you can’t take me any place.

Maybe if you looked better in a dress then we'd head out together. But since you only wear cargo pants, I refuse to be seen out with you. I think that's fair.

According to you
I suck at telling jokes cause I always give it away.
I’m the girl with the worst attention span;
you’re the boy who puts up with it.
According to you. According to you.

Well, I'm not putting up with it any more. You've moved on, so our relationship is over. Once again though, I'm being awfully specific, and I have a lot of criticisms. Surely some of this is making you think, "Hmmm, maybe I do have a few problems. I should see someone about my ADD, mood swings and mental retardation."

But according to him
I’m beautiful,
he can’t get me out of his head.
According to him
I’m funny,
everything he ever wanted.
Everything is opposite,
I don’t feel like stopping it,
so baby tell me what I got to lose.
He’s into me for everything I’m not,
according to you.

Yeah yeah, you said all that. That's all he's got? Beautiful, funny, blah blah blah. He's quoting 'Dating For Dummies.'

I need to feel appreciated,
like I’m not hated. oh no
Why can’t you see me through his eyes?
It’s too bad you’re making me dizz-ay

I'm making you dizzy? You can't even dress yourself! How do you think I feel? I don't hate you, I just think you have some character flaws. However, keep coming at me like this and maybe I will hate you.

According to me
you’re stupid,
you’re useless,
you can’t do anything right.

Fuck you Orianthi. Think up your own insults, you dumb whore. Now I hate you. You happy?

Sorry you had to hear that guys. She goes on for a little bit longer about how perfect her new guy is, but frankly I don't think we need to hear what that hyperactive bitch has to say.

I don't want to force you to take sides, but if you see it, can you 1 star her video clip? She pretty much copies Guitar Hero anyway, it's not even original.

Thanks for letting me vent though, you've been great.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

They have feelings too.

I found this article on the BBC News website. This blogger is very glad these issues are finally being addressed.

The government of Finland has passed critical amendments to the Imagination Act requiring all made-up characters to register themselves on what the government is calling a Fictitious Being Registry. This legislation, commonly referred to as the Santa Laws, has been put in place to ensure that children are not exposed to the danger of embarrassing themselves in public by believing in Fictitious Beings beyond a certain age. All made-up characters must alert children of a certain age of their non-existence.

There has been some outcry from PEBLIEF (People for the Ethical Belief in Leprechauns, Imps, Elves and Faries) as the notification age for fantasy creatures was reduced from 6 to 4 years. Ghosts and aliens retained their 'all ages' classification thanks to the tin foil hat clause, which provides that a certain level of mental disturbance permits the belief in such concepts right up until death.

Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, two of the strongest campaigners against the new legislation, were exempt from the registry, reportedly proposing that they are intrinsically linked to religious ceremonies and as such the revelation powers should be left to parents. The Cabinet also noted that children in families with more than one child were exposed to possible physical and or mental harm by such a registry. However, the Opposition is expected to propose a fail-safe 'maximum age' clause that would be used in cases of extreme neglect.

Check out the full article here.

Spoonful of sugar.

Woah, it's dusty in here.

Sorry for abandoning you all. I have been working full-time over the past few weeks and as such my free time has taken a hit. But I'm back at university now, so I'm only working part-time, which means I'll be able to devote some time to the more trivial things in life, like this blog.

One thing I have been doing a fair bit of is public transport travel. And since I'm not a fan of reading on the bus, I have to busy myself with anything else. Otherwise I go a little mad. I don't handle inactivity well. I get bored sitting on the toilet. So much so I start making myself go cross-eyed and then I look at the bathroom tiles and they go all warpy and 3D/Magic Eye-like. You should try it.

Unless you're no good at Magic Eye. I used to be like that. When they were all the rage when I was in Grade 5, the other kids at my primary school used to bring the books to school and marvel over the dolphin or dragon or cheeseburger that emerged from the nonsense on the page. I could never do it. Sometimes I would pretend and lightly stroke the page like a retard going "Oooh, ahhh, it's so cool!" But once I made the fatal error of outing myself as Magic Eye-incapable, no one believed me. It wasn't until I hit puberty and things with my eyes started to go horribly wrong that I picked up the Magic Eye skill.

You may or may not know that I have some fairly odd eye problems. My left eye is short sighted and my right is long sighted. This is due to the fact that the muscles in my left eye don't work, so the muscles around the eye are doing all the focussing. Which was fine when I was young and fit, but as I got older and computer use and reading increased that my left eye started going "Wow, all this focussing is really running me down. I'll be able to manage for, like, half a day, but after that you're on your own right eye." And then the right eye said, "But without you I'll lose all depth perception. Can't we compromise?"

The left eye thought on this for a moment and then said "Okay, you get glasses for reading and staring at a screen and I'll help you cover the day-to-day activities, like walking and driving and shit. Deal?" The right eye was in agreement and so I got glasses. They didn't consult the rest of my body, namely my teeth (at that point covered in metal) or feet (at that point rocking some subtle orthodics) and as such I went through a rather awkward phase where my eyes kept getting death threats from the rest of my body. But that's all sorted now, my cadaver is in harmony.

Anyway, the point of that is that if I'm not wearing my glasses, I can essentially emulated the effect of going cross-eyed by simply... well, I'm not sure exactly what I do with my eyes, but I assume it's got something to do with not focussing properly, and I can turn it on and off like a switch. A completely useless skill, but a skill none the less.

I'm off to go stare at some patterns around QUT. Stay tuned, I have some exciting events coming up and some cool ideas for this blog. Hopefully things start coming to fruition.


Sunday, January 17, 2010

Should have put a ring on it.

Today was going to be another 'Literal Lyrics' post. However, in my quest for a current single that has terrible lyrics (usually not a difficult search) I discovered this:

Hosted by
(Bigger version here.)

That's right. Number 46 on the ARIA Top 50 singles chart is 'Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)' as sung by The Chipettes. Who are 'The Chipettes' you ask? To quote Wikipedia, "The Chipettes are a fictional group of anthropomorphic chipmunk singers first appearing on the cartoon series Alvin and the Chipmunks in 1983." How are they in the charts in 2010 then?

Well, thanks to the eternal crap machine that is Hollywood, the old Alvin and the Chipmunks cartoon was revived in 2007 as a live action/CGI, and despite being critically panned, it made almost 10 times it's budget at the box office and in DVD sales. Turns out, not only do humans have an awful taste in music, we're also not that great with movies either. The inevitable sequel, referred to as the "squeakquel" (see what they did there?) was released in December last year, and re-introduced The Chipettes to the world.

Not content with raping our eyes via cinema screens, the good people at Warner Music found it in their hearts to violate our ears as well, and released a soundtrack, containing 15 (18 if you got the Deluxe iTunes Edition, woo bonus tracks!) songs, performed exclusively by either The Chipmunks, The Chipettes, or both.

Before you get excited and say, "They trained actual chipmunks to sing? That's incredible! I love avant garde music, where can I buy this album?" I must clarify what they mean by songs. Basically what the brilliant minds at 20th Century Fox did is take the original songs and turn up the pitch, so the singers sounded like screeching banshees from the depths of hell. There is no parody, no lyric alteration. It's the same songs that were originally released, just make to sound like a eunuch on helium.

Now normally this wouldn't bother me, and for the most part, it still doesn't. They used songs by Pink and the Black Eyed Peas, so it wasn't like they were ruining anything good. Right? Wrong!

Beyonce's late 2008 hit 'Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)' was one of the butchered songs. A track that was ranked as the number two Best Song of the Decade in Rolling Stone magazine's Reader's Poll. The song also appeared at number 50 on the magazine's critics' list of the 100 Best Songs of the Decade. Now you may not know, but I love this song. There is a video, kept in a highly protected vault, of me drunkenly dancing to it. It is impossible not to love it. Not only is it a great song, but Beyonce is a chocolate goddess. And the dancing! Amazing! All done in a single take. In intense heels. Wow. It's still in the Aria Top 50 Singles chart for fucks sake. It's been there for 40 weeks!

Anyway, enough of me ranting about how much I love the song. Check this out. I hope it makes you cry.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

The world around us.

Dear Mother Nature,

You are a dick. There, I said it. You're a dick. Why? So many reasons.

For starters, what the hell is with the birds that you have seen it fit to create that sound like they are being raped when they communicate? There is at least a handful of them that live near my house, and every night, without fail, they have a conversation. Except instead of sweetly singing, they howl into the night, moaning like there is a bigger bird having it's way with it. It makes no sense. The noise they make is terrifying, it sounds like the soundboard for a horror movie. And not a good one.

And speaking of rape, why do you make animals rape each other? Sure, I can understand humans, we're a fucked up lot. But that's because we have the mental capacity to think that stuff up. Monkeys I could even forgive, because they're like us only hairy. But ducks? Ducks raping each other? And not just regular rape, rape with giant spinning lasso penises. Dolphins do it as well, yet since they don't have the benefit of a cock twice the length of their body, they work in gangs and chase a female down until she is too exhausted to resist their advances. Then they all have sex with her.

What about all the animals you've created whose sole purpose it is to either suck the blood of other animals and or spread disease? Mosquitoes, leeches, ticks. Not only are they gross to look at, they're responsible for millions of deaths, both to humans and animals alike. Some animals are just violent for the sake of it. Like the tiny Amazonian fish (Candiru) that has made a name for itself by swimming up the penises of urinating explorers and then lodging itself in the urethra using tiny hooks. Or the 20-cent piece sizes Irukandji Jellyfish that is practically invisible but can kill a grown man in minutes. What purpose do either of those animals serve outside of making our lives difficult?

Finally, the plant kingdom. A Corpse Flower? Really? What compelled you to create a flower that stinks like rotting flesh? How about the cactus. Does it really need to be covered in spines? They grow in the god-damn desert, they've got it hard enough as it is. Yet you covered them in painful, often poisonous, spikes. Speaking of poisonous, what's with poison ivy, or any of the plants that have a cute little flower (Azalea and Daphne, I'm looking at you) yet cause nausea, paralysis and or death? Why make them look like every other flower? Are you trying to kill us?

Mother Nature, you are a dick.


Note: Everything I mentioned actually exists in nature. I'm going to provide links, but if you doubt me, look it up. I dare you.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Hard knock life.

Children's literature is apparently a tough market to crack. Kids have a rather brutal approach to what they like and don't like. If the book is good, they'll read it non-stop for a year. Everyone in their extended family will read it. They might even hold onto it for years, to give to their children one day. But if they hate it, then it is treated like rubbish. It can be used as anything from a napkin to a towel. But it wont be read.

Yet their books are complete rubbish. Bad watercolour paintings of what can only be described as nonsense. My favourite book was about a boy who played with cars. There was no character development, no plot twists. In fact, I could have been playing with cars myself and I would have had an exponentially more fun time. Yet that book was my favourite. I look back on it now and think what a waste of paper it was.

I've decided to devote my time to becoming a children's book reviewer. But I'm not going to dance around the tough issues. I don't care how easy it is for 5 year olds to read. I'm going to ask it the tough questions, the sort of critical eye that every other piece of literature gets subjected to.

To begin, 'Axel the Freeway Cat' by Thacher Hurd. (Read it online here.)

Straight off the bat, come up with a better pseudonym, Mr/s Author. That name sounds like a burp.

Now, Axel is a cat who lives under a freeway overpass, in a car body, in a muddy ditch. So Axel is an abandoned animal. And in the realm of abandoned animals, he's essentially a bum. Yes he seems happy. This book is teaching children that if they abandon their animals, they'll be fine, they'll just shack up under a freeway somewhere. Unfortunately, they are more likely to end up dead on the freeway than living under it.

But Axel is happy. Good for him. He wears clothes, eats breakfast and has a job apparently. This job? He picks up the litter on the side of the freeway and gets ignored by the drivers. Sounds like he's actually a convicted felon, because that's the sort of "job" they get criminals to do. While they're in prison. I believe they call them 'chain gangs'.

Still, Thacher maintains the illusion that Axel is happy, because Axel collects this rubbish. Including old food. Oh, and a harmonica, which he plays under the overpass. Axel is, without a doubt, a vagrant.

One day there is a big traffic jam and the reader learns that a little cat in a little red car is the cause of the disruption. Note that the cat is a female cat and she looks suspiciously like an old woman cat. Well done enforcing the stereotypes that old people and women are bad drivers Thacher.

Axel fixes the car, and the old woman invites him to take her car for a spin. Now I'm not sure if Axel even has his license, but apparently that's not an issue. It should be, because Axel speeds off into the sunset, driving dangerously for hours. Eventually he invites the old woman into his house (read: abandoned car body). Hear that kids? Invite strangers into your car, particularly ones that live under bridges. And then go back to their "house" for dinner.

Axel caps off a day of reckless driving by crashing through his own fence, vegetable patch and irrigation system. Nice, so whatever good work he'd done fixing the car has been undone. And when the old lady suggests they clean up? Axel just wants to have a drink of milk. I suspect there may be a dash of whisky in that milk.

The book then ends abruptly. Axel and his hostage have dinner and then jam for a while. And that's it. There is no message, no closure for the reader. What now? How does the old lady cat get home? What about her car? Is Axel going to suffer any consequences? I haven't learnt anything, particularly no valuable life lessons.

Thacher Hurt, if this was your fourth book, I am concerned about how bad the other three are.

I've been your cybrarian Tom, allow me to play you out...

Friday, January 1, 2010

Internet Hero 1: Ms. Moogoo

I spend a fair bit of time on this internet game. Some might say I spend too much time. I tell those people to shut up.

Occasionally I stumble across things that , in spite of all the ridiculous stuff I have seen and done, rock me to my very core. These are the hidden gems of the web, the monsters that Web 2.0 has created.

Any weirdo with a webcam and an internet connection can now proudly broadcast their insanity. There are those who say I should take pity on these nutbags, that they don't know what they're doing. I politely disagree.

These people are my heroes. They do the things I can or will not do, whether through my own physical or mental limitations, or simply because I was not quick enough to capitalise on whatever brilliant idea they are gloriously riding through their 15 minutes of fame.

Tonight I offer to you my first hero of the internet...


Hosted by

"Who is this beautiful creature?" you ask? According to her YouTube profile, she's a 27-year-old (my, what a youthful figure she has) American woman who loves her "Online Boyfriend And All Of My Friends In The Whole Wide World Thanx For Being The Greatest Online Boyfriend And Friends In The Whole Wide World To Me." Got that?

Tosh enjoys her dog Bo (cutie!), pimping out her hair (she's got a top ponytail and a wicked single braid) and singing. Not just any singing mind you, she mumbles along to R'n'B which I can only assume is pumping through her headphones. However, like the pop-stars of old, Tosh cleverly provides no backing track for herself, so each video is a 6-minute operetta of the chubbiest proportions. Oh, and something called 'Stickam'.

To illustrate, Tosh flawlessly covers 'Ms. New Booty' by Bubba Sparxxx featuring the Ying Yang Twins and Mr. Collipark.

Notice how even though she introduces the song as "Ms. New Booty" she insists on singing "Ms. Moogoo" throughout the entirety of the clip. Clever girl.

ToshBabyBoo... My Hero.