Daily Diatribe

A group of English expats have declared the term of endearment Pom to be racist, and as bad a form of villification as the epithet that got crap comedian Michael Richards into more trouble than an AWB exec.

“The Oxford Dictionary classes Pom as being derogatory just like wog, wop, dink, dago, coon and abo, it’s every bit as bad as the term nigger,” BPARD spokesman David Thomason said yesterday.BPARD, which has a committee of 14 and branches in Perth and Melbourne, does not want Pom banned from general usage but Mr Thomason believes there is an agenda in the media to take the insult to new heights.BPARD has some well-heeled backing from the mother country in the form of the notoriously stuffy English and Wales Cricket Board.

…..it is only the descriptive language used in tandem with Pom that carries offence. “The prospect of the use of the word ‘Pom’ itself inciting hatred against a group appears more remote than the use of words used to describe other racial groups,” commission spokesman Paul Oliver said.The bath-shy, dentally-negligent complaint creators aren’t happy with the ruling, however-

“These songs that the Aussie supporters sing talk about we can’t get near you because of your smell, your body odour, your bad breath, your buck teeth, your whingeing, have you got some soap…”

Truth has always been a defence in matters of slander or defamation.

Anyway, time to shoot off to the pub- I’m as dry as a Pommy’s bathtowel.

What is it with state Labor governments and appointing monomaniac dingbats to the bench, then wondering what went wrong when they act as expected?

The appropriately named Justice Pain handed down a decision in a Land and Environment Court application by a penniless planet protector to prevent the opening of the Anvil Hill coal mine in NSW’s Hunter Valley. Her ruling, which seems to take judicial activism to a whole new level (I’m surprised she didn’t picket her own courtroom, or abseil down the front of the building to unfurl a “No CO2 For LCD TVs!” banner), finding that the DG of planning has to take future greenhouse gas emmissions into consideration when looking at development applications, particularly in regard to fossil fuel mines.

She apparently doesn’t apply the same rigour to those applying to open a rub-and-tug shop- no greenhouse gases, but surely a lot of other noxious emissions result from this sort of development.

Ol’ Pain On The Bench is yet another in a long line of resounding successes by state Attorneys General to promote the appointment of supposedly under-represented minorities to the judiciary, whether they be tinted, tailgunner or tail, and in most cases they have been successful insofar as they’re still on the bench, despite making decisions which make Roy Bean seem balanced- after all, if dismissed for incompetence, malfeasance or stupidity they’d scream discrimination and the usual suspects would rush to their defence- an embarassing state affairs for the state’s senior legal officer, particularly if they see themselves as a progressive.

So these idiots continue pushing their personal agendas, secure in their own smug self-rightousness and the taxpayer picks up the tab when their retarded ruling gets rolled on appeal.

Fact is, none of these appointees represent any minority; they are members of a burgeoning and priveliged elite- the wealthy, inner-urban buckethead; their hive-think on any progressive issue is mindlessly parroted, despite overwhelming evidence of its idiocy.

I for one would relish seeing the good Justice argue a case in the ring with her namesake.

Especially seeing as Barnsey’s playing- a perfect match, not because?of Working Class Man, but because the union movement and Jimmy Barnes are both dinosaurs, mired in their own tarpits of irrelevence and declining support bases. Shit, even Collingwood can pull a bigger crowd.?

What’s also amusing about the whole childish event is that the icon they use to represent their cause is an ageing, substance abusing millionaire, who stumbles out to work once every two years, producing an album of knock-offs of others work, which is sold to ostensibly members of the class being oppressed by the new IR laws at a sizable margin, allowing said icon to continue his indulgent lifestyle.

It also says a bit about the management of the organisation that they consider the boring old fart hip- it’s highly reminiscent of assorted grand final bookings by the Australian Rugby League, which reached its pinnacle with a performance by the very butch and boofy Village People.

Extinction for these Silurian relics can’t come soon enough.

On the subject of crap entertainers who exploit kiddies for personal gain, what the fuck is wrong with the yellow Wiggle, jaundice? Seriously though, I hope it’s nothing trivial.

It’d be a hoot if it turned out to be an STD, or a slavering weakness for crack cocaine, or even something wacky like lycanthropy- that’d fuck up the deal with Disney big time, and it’d be back to hacking around venues like the Revesby Workers Club as The Cockroaches. Captain Feathersword would have to go back to clipping tickets on the Manly Ferry (and part-time pole dancing at The Mineshaft in Oxford St), Scraps would be sold to the Filipino dogfight bund and Henry the Octopus would be calamari. Dorothy could continue in the entertainment industry though- I hear Barnsey’s looking for backup singers and dancers who make him look younger. ?

Strange goings on in the bucolic hamlet of Lismore in the hippy enclave of coastal Northern NSW, where a woman was found en flagrente’ delecto with a horny hayburner, naked in a paddock in Wilson Street, which is right in town.

While I have no problem with what anyone inserts in themselves, in public is possibly crossing the line of acceptable behaviour- although Lismore’s not the most exciting place, and one would normally have to trawl Hamburg’s infamous Reeperbahn to clock this sort of intensive petcare.

Given the new-agey nature of a lot of the blowins that now enrich this area with their colourful cheesecloth, patchouli ming and halfwit ideas, perhaps it was some sort of a fertility rite derived from ancient Celtic or Norse runes, to ensure a bumper crop of hydro and resulting blissed out indifference to the horrors of Howardism, or a godess blessing to ensure the naughty nag runs well in the 2.30 at Murwillumbah.

I refuse to countenance wicked, vile, scurrilous and slanderous?speculation from some correspondents that it was all just a case of someone such as this getting lucky at the pub.?

??

It’s a sad thing indeed when former friends and fellow travellers have a tiff, but that’s just what’s happened to the formerly fraternal relationship between Greens leader?member (leader has connotations of inequality, so has no place in a reference to an egalitarian organisation** such as the Greens) and ALP recruit Peter Garrett, with the former referring to the latter as?……..”(having) sold out on key environmental issues on which he was such a grand advocate…”

Poor ol’ Petey can’t win a trick, even his idiot friends think he’s a turncoat and a twat, and even the humour-challenged Federal Treasurer managed to take the piss out of the Socialist Slaphead:-

………..Mr Costello treated Parliament to an impersonation of the rocker,?waving his arms around in a take-off as he borrowed some Midnight Oil lyrics while answering a question.

His victim?wasn’t impressed, retorting: “You’ve failed the audition.”

He needs to quickly develop grand mal epilepsy, or perhaps have Joe Hockey shoot him in the back of the head with a taser to be able to exhibit the required unco-ordinated thrashing and incohenert ranting of a truly professional impersonation of the Alopecic Arsehole.

We’re stuck with this pair of polemic pillocks for at least another two years, but at least we’ll soon be rid?of Tashie Twat Displayer??and her constant inane braying on myriad issues of great interest to poli-science undergrads and faculty members, public broadcast employees, Fairfax hacks and legal-aid siphoning pettifoggers and bugger all of anyone else.

Her latest grandstanding involves a demand to release confidential information as to why a former ‘Gitmo detainee was refused a visa;.

Why don’t we just tell every obnoxious arsehole, jihadi wannabe and convict why we’re not letting them in? After all, the lefty credibility of a hack politician who’s swanning off to hoover the rough end of A$100K a year (indexed for life) is more important than such trifling matters an national security and national interest, and the sovereign right to refuse entry to anyone we fucking feel like.

We may not yet be free of the value that Tashie adds to the nation with her taste for vigourous debate, and tireless efforts on behalf of Islamic sociopaths, pillheads, talentless “artists” and the effort-challenged; the tireless defender of the planet mentioned above, Senator Brown, has raised the prospect of?’Tash?running for the Greens; next time around, and double-dipping salary and super from we ignorant, resource-squandering slobs.

Yippeee.

*Sounds like a jolly fine idea- when can we start?

**Unless of course you’re one of the resource-squandering, diversity unappreciating, culture ignoring slobs mentioned above- then you should be re-educated (if your tiny, ignorant mind can be so taught) or converted into something with less of a carbon footprint, like mulch.??

???

Now all the controversy surrounding sheikh Taj Din el Hilaly’s surmon suggesting shielas should surround their surfaces?lest they be set upon by randy, starving tomcats has died down, the mufti has decided to reach out to mainstream Australia through music. His new DJ set, performing as “The Urban Turban” is aimed at the rave/dance party milieu:-?

and a turban-twistin’ series of phat backbeats and def jams it is for sure; the sheikh also hopes to see if exposure to unclad trollops, enticing assault by bedecking their filthy, uncovered limbs with glowstick bangles and emitting more visual pheremones than a firefly’s arse can be resisited and the carnal stirrings in his?Hammer Helal pants suppressed.

Also included in his musical foray into reconcilliation is a tour as part of a ’70s politico-rock tribute act,?“The Clash of Civilisations”, who will perform covers of songs made popular by bands with progressive social views:-??

??

There’s been no announcement that the Ayatollah of Rock n’ Rolla is planning to release a cover of this number in the forseeable future.

Well well- after a lengthy absence, the DD is back in publication; It’s been busy with my hectic schedule of avoiding work, responsibility, breathalysier and radar units, and being physically ejected from polite social gatherings (”and don’t fucking come back EVER, you cunt, or we’ll really hurt you“)*, but I will to the best of my limited ability try to keep the hitherto inaccurate name of this site a bit more literal.

There’s certainly no less idiotic, unreasonable and illogical goings on both here in Australia and elsewhere, so there’s no shortage of material for a cynical misanthrope who finds amusement in a small child dropping their icecream on a fire-ant nest, picking it up and continuing to eat said confection, therby ingesting several irate and venemous insects. (Tracheotomies are a hoot!)

Anyway, to the very few silly sods who still bother to check out this site for new inanities, welcome, and we’re going to keep improving the layout, links and accessability until it’s approaching this high standard.

Enjoy. And if you don’t, go fuck yourself.??

*I had no idea that the Patchwork Guild was so militant these days.