Just a thought on that "moral turpitude" claim of Simple Simon Crean's: Reminds me of the time Pauline Hanson said "please explain" when confronted with the word "xenophobic". The fluffy wuffy media seized on it as a symbol of her stupidity. Yet surely to use a term and not know its meaning is even friggin' dumber.

Is "moral turpitude" going to become the next "please explain"? It should, but it won't, of course. Why? Because primitive, tribal squits will never attack one of their own. They always employ a double standard best described as moral turditude.

In Mexico women really are oppressed. Selectively murdered in their hundreds in fact. Yet smug feminist bimbos in Oz and other rich, industrialised nations continue to complain that blonde jokes and innapropriate suffixes constitute oppression.

Gawd.

Appeaseniks said the Seppolian war on Iraq wasn't a war of liberation, but one of occupation. Then when (newly freed) people went spacko, looting and rioting all over the joint, they blamed the Seppos again - this time for not occupying the joint forcefully enough.

Now, Iraqi citizens are killing former Baath Party members, frustrated that the occupying forces are too leniant on their old oppressors. This makes a mockery of both the pre-war appeasenik claim that while Saddam was "bad news" (Pilger's words) he wasn't that bad; and the mid-war claim that the Seppos were more brutal than his regime.

My guess is that now we'll see the lefties have it both ways again. That is, if the coalition steps in to stop the murders, the appeaseniks will whine about it, wheeling out the ol' occupation rant. And if they do nothing, it'll be, "They're turning a blind eye to revenge killing. How brutal!"

One interesting fact is that Iraqis have been killing formerly lauded, Saddam-friendly artists. As the story states, "The singer Daoud Qais, known for his odes to Hussein, was shot dead on Saturday. So was the president of the Iraqi Artists Union."

Sounds like fun. Why can't we do a bit of that here?

Just a note to say I've got a conventional website started. Have a squizz if you like. It's pretty basic now, but one day it will be bigger than Yahoo, I promise.

Senator Andrew Fartlett claims he doesn't know which planet the Howard Government is living on. Well, it's certainly not the Daily Planet. My guess is it's a little blue dot called Earth. Earth, upon which they have their feet firmly planted.

And Fartlett's celestial abode? A weird joint, that's for sure. One in which chooks rule the roost; where every night's a hen's night; where the birds have more rights than the men - and I'm not talking feminism. I don't know what it's called, but whoever lives there can go an' get plucked!

(For more gratuitous Fartlett-bashing chook-jokes, go here.)

Some columnists sarcastically refer to Islam as "the religion of peace". In the same vein perhaps we should now call Labor "the party of peace".

Excellent article on why universities are such good breeding grounds for leftist puerility.

I don't want to sound like a real wowser. But this next post may make me seem like one. (Actually, I like to think of myself as the opposite: a hepcat libertarian. Once, in an attempt to show my cred in this regard, I wrote an article espousing the rights of people to get really kinky and wee over each other if they so desired - and I wasn't taking the piss! Er, nor did I in researching the article, I hasten to add.)

So I'm all for people doing, and watching, what they wish. But that doesn't mean that there shouldn't be limits. Like, earlier today I was in a public library. I saw this strange-lookin' bloke with shockin' BO on the PC next to me. He was openly downloading porn!

Of course, technically, smut surfing was not allowed there. But then neither was chatting or e-mail. People circumvent those laws all the time. So he wasn't the only one infringing library policy. (And I suppose you can be too tight-arsed about it. Cops can't enforce even one tenth of all the laws that are written. So what hope have librarians? Anyway, I said nothing. So who am I to judge?) Still, what amazed me was the guy's brazenness, and the staff's complete acceptance of it.

So, where do we draw the line? It seems like this is a bit of a curly question for the anti-censorship zealot. It's like asking if it's censorship to say you can't shout "Fire!" in a public theatre if there's no fire. That was asked heaps in days of yore, when the Seppos were framing their Bill of Rights. So, now in the no-shame noughties the question is, "Is it censorship to demand that library-goers don't download porn?"

Crikey, I dunno. But I do know one thing for sure: If the perv in question whops it out there and then and starts going for it, you're definitely within your rights to complain!

Here's a perfect example of Sydney Morning Herald "journalism". Throw some muck and simultaneously report that muck was thrown!

Succombe's final paragraph offers a template that can be tinkered with a little to sum up the relentless media campaign (now incorporating the callous exploitation of a recently deceased woman's rape allegations) against the G-G:

"It's a long time since loathsome Labor MPs and media mediocrities have been so gleeful, no doubt because they can tar the PM with the same muck that they've slapped all over the hapless Hollingworth, since they're clearly more concerned about exploiting pedophilia to denigrate their enemies than protecting the young victims of it."

Here's a good story on comedian Dennis Miller, one of the few well-known Seppolian performers with the balls and intelligence to, er, standup for Dubya.

Here in Oz, however, there are no right-wing comedians at all. (Er, except me, of course. But I'm hardly famous. I realised that to be a success you have to be either a beaming airhead or a perpetually stoned Stalinist. So I gave up the stage for a while and took up blogging. It's a much better means of self-expression. You've got an audience who can think; you're not gonna be ripped off by the promoter; and you get to sit down while you work. Still, buggerall money in it.)

Boffins have discovered the world's smallest seahorse. I can't wait for them to find its jockey!

Another thought on the Hunt for Hollingworth: It's interesting that when Bill Heffernan abused parliamentary privelege to slime Michael Kirby not so long ago, there was a lot of fluffy-huffing about Heffernan's mollusc-like cowardice, and wuffy-puffing about Kirby's lion-like dignity in the face of such a scurrilous attack. (It was one of the few times I shared their basic sentiments, by the way.)

The hacks did go overboard, though. They really went for the Liberal senator with a vengeance. I distinctly recall one scene (on the ABC, I think) of the Heffster running down a staircase pursued by baying TV bloodhounds.

But now, in a situation which is very similar - except that the victim is one of their enemies - the fluffs continue to go the G-G with renewed vigour, while laying off that scum-sucking mud-fucker Lindsay Tanner.

But it's hardly surprising. Turds of a feather slime together, after all. (Okay, so it's a mixed metaphor, since turds ain't birds, and don't have feathers. Still, it conveys my disgust at their repulsive behaviour.)

Just a thought on this Hollingworth scandal: I haven't followed it much and I don't really know what's going on. So I'll refrain from signing up for either the "go" or "stay" camp for now. But I'll give the fluffs a kick for their inconsistency. I've heard some say he's a disgrace to the office of Governor General, yet I've also heard them say the office itself is completely irrelevant. How can you disgrace an irrelevance?

If, as good fluffy wuffy progressives they are against all them fusty institutions, shouldn't they be saying, "See, we told you so. The conservative crowd is full of dodgy old pedophile protectors! So let's get rid of him and his office." But no, they don't. They manage to be outraged both ways. "Get rid of Hollingworth and replace him with someone more progressive!"

Crikey, make up yer minds will ya!

Baath Party bio-terror babe Mrs Anthrax captured! Have a look at the photo. I think she looks creepily like the noted flashbulb addict and super-fluff Susan Sarandon. If they are the same person it would explain a lot, don't you reckon?

Here's evidence that violent lyrics increase aggression in the listeners. Maybe, but there's nothing that makes my blood boil more than some godawful hippy-dippy meditation CD of whale song, willow weep and bird chirp!

Gawd. The sex-mad Seppos of San-Fran are holding (or should that be gripping?) a "Masturbate-a-thon". But patriotic Aussie pud-pullers shouldn't feel left behind. We have our own regular version called Critical Mass, on the ABC.

Another parody of that ridiculous Dixie Chicks nude mag cover. (If it doesn't take you straight there, search for "Dixie Chicks".)

And re that: I've often wondered why celebs so often become liberal activists. Sure they're deluded, but are their actions genuine? That is, are some of them good, serious people who see the chance at making some meaningful impact? And is the nudity "statement" just an extreme form of that impulse?

Nup. I think even a "maybe" to that would be giving them way too much credit. They're just exhibitionists. They sing or dance or act to feed their giant egos. And they make political statements to feed their giant egos. They don't believe in anything except their own importance. And they don't think anything has any value unless it makes people look at them. Hence the activist nudity trend. It's the ultimate in exhibitionism.

Here's another reason to think twice before lighting a joint. I've watched heaps of bong-sucklers over the years and have always thought the "dope is benign" argument was a steaming crock of twang. In fact, I think that myth is one of the dangers. We all know that alcohol can be damaging so most people who drink do it responsibly. But the cone-heads indulge much more heavily because there is a whole army of dopey dope-apologists determined to deny its dangers.

I mean, most people would consider someone who knocked back a beer or a toddy first thing in the morning to have a major problem. But in the smoky world of the alternative lifestyler, a regular bong for brekkie is considered just fine and dandy.

Knowing how pompous and annoying so many Hollywood stars are wouldn't the more appropriate title for this story be something like, "Sod off flashbulb addicts!"?

I found this story via Bernard Slattery's blog. It's fascinating. The William Morris agency has closed down a website dedicated to slagging off the posturing pinheads on their books. Of course, that odious army of pampered flashbulb addicts will continue to squawk that they are the ones being muzzled, while turning a blind eye to all the censorship (both overt and covert) that their fellow travellers continue to practise in their name.

Gawd. Now dopey Kev Costner joins the Hollywood appeasenik crowd. This article states that Kev believes that "Robbins and Sarandon shouldn't be viewed as targets by those supporting the war in Iraq".

I agree. They should be viewed as targets by those who fought the war in Iraq, then shot at with live ammo!

During a speech to the Seppolian forces in Qatar, Rummy sticks it right up the squitterati.

Here's part of what he had to say: "You know, during World War II, Winston Churchill was talking about the Battle of Britain and he said, 'Never have so many owed so much to so few.' A humorist in Washington . . . sent me a note paraphrasing that [in which] he said, 'Never have so many been so wrong about so much.' "

That last line is a pearler. Funny thing is, they'll probably get even wronger as the weeks progress.

Tammy Bruce, ex-fluff, describes many in the "Elite Left" as malignant narcissists. A well-respected prof uses the same description for Saddam Hussein. That might go some way to explaining why they were so sympathetic to -- if not overtly supportive of -- his regime.

Fluffs have quacked on endlessly about there being no link between Saddam and al-Qa'eda. But recently discovered official files show otherwise.

Apparently a bin Laden envoy lobbed in Iraq for some tea, scones and a nice little chat a few years ago. Trying to keep the meeting secret, the Iraqis tried to erase evidence of the meeting. As the article states: "Perhaps aware of the sensitivities of the subject matter, Iraqi agents at some point clumsily attempted to mask out all references to bin Laden, using white correcting fluid. The dried fluid was removed to reveal the clearly legible name three times in the documents."

Says heaps about Saddam's workplace culture. These guys were highly accomplished at making people vanish without a trace, but not so good with ink. Yet fluffs will still look at a corrupt corporate culture incapable of the former and adept at the latter as the infinitely more evil one. Good to know they've got their priorities straight.

So Monica's hosting a reality TV show. It's called Mr Personality. Ironic that, since the epithet would have been appropriate for the fella who bestowed fame upon her in the first place. Which begs the question: When will Clinton himself come out with his own tacky TV show?

Good article on the Left's unsurprisingly way-off predictions about the war. Included are some details of Saddam's training methods. These included a Young Pioneer-like institution called "Saddam's Lion Cubs". (Like commies and fascists he saw the benefits of getting 'em while they were young.) One of the tests of strength included making the wannabe torturers (who were true whippersnappers) to eviscerate dogs with their bare hands.

Charming.

Maybe if the lefties had heard about this earlier, they would have supported the war on the grounds of the regime's cruelty to animals?

Professor Bunyip and ABC Watch have been getting stuck into Guy Rundle over his clearly stated desire for more bloodshed in the Middle East. Bunyip uses the term "moral void" to describe the core of Rundle's psyche.

Void. Spot on. That's the term that so often comes to my mind when watching the fluffs. It's not that they're evil. They're just vacuous. Examine their ideology, peel back the layers and what have you got at the end of it all? A big fat lump of nothin'.

And nothin' placed next to somethin' creates a vacuum. Fluffs suck, big time.

They can only ever express themselves with negatives and condemnation. No war, no greenhouse gas emissions, no capitalism, no billboards of spunky nude chicks, no marriage, no inappropriate suffixes, etc. No to this; no to that.

I remember listening to a tape of the bong-suckling barbarian Abbie Hoffman yelling "Just say no!" to a crowd of sixties' fluffs. I thought the guy was a complete tosser. But the fluff I was with at the time found the speech incredibly inspiring. I subsequently discovered why: there was a void at the core of her heart. Just as there was a void at the core of Hoffman's, and pretty well all lefties' for that matter.

They live to negate, to deny, to accuse. But what do they ever say yes to? Another big fat lump of nothin'.

(Sure, they occasionally claim that they're for things -- "peace" for instance. But the "peace" they endorse usually means tyranny. And when they say they believe in freedom, that's freedom from responsibility, not freedom with responsibility. Big difference.)

Fluffs are like fillum critics. The screenwriter and director can create art without the critic. But the critic needs a fillum to eviscerate to have an identity. Similarly, fluffs are nothing without a successful, humane and principled civilization to bitch and moan about.

This is the essence of fluffy wuffism. It's the nasty, nihilistic desire to tear down what better, braver, kinder people have created.

The feisty feminist sheilas obviously like this fillum. But isn't the title a tad, er, sexist? I mean, if real women have curves, then doesn't it imply that skinny chicks are fake?

Does this mean that waif-like feminist icon Susan Faludi will no longer be revered by the sisterhood? Gawd, we could be in for a PC paradigm shift!

For what it's worth my opinion on the whole cellulite caper is: all chicks are real (or should I say, unreal). Fat ones, skinny ones, all them in-betwinny ones. Doesn't matter to me. I'm an equal opportunity voyeur.

Maybe the "Misinformation Minister" wasn't such a positive thinker after all.

Lily-livered New Age puritans are forever railing against the dangers of alcohol and coffee while espousing the health-giving properties of peppermint tea. But if you talk to the people who drink it you quickly realise it's a far more dangerous substance, capable of reducing sane adults to dribbling, infantile saps after only days of regular consumption. In fact, it would appear that peppermint tea damages the nervous system as severely as a stroke does.

Interestingly, what's the best way to prevent stroke damage? Well, coffee and plonk of course -- imbibed simultaneously!

Makes a spooky kind of sense doesn't it?

A good piece on possible reasons for the non-use of chemical weapons by Saddam.

Carlton Lite's latest gargle illustrates just how morally and intellectually adrift the fluffs are at the moment. The first part is the usual: Dubya is the morally absolutist cowboy out to rule the world, in league with the "Prince of Darkness" (a morally absolutist epithet if ever there was one); these evil right-wingers are lying when they regret civilian casualties; and Carlton is so so jaded, so world-weary, blah, blah fucken blah, pass the Bollinger, etc...

The last section is a vaguely amusing comedy sketch mocking Mohammed Sahaf. In the first line of Sahaf's Lite actually parodies the stance he himself sympathisies with in the first section (the idea of the "criminal Bush-Rumsfeld Zionist conspiracy"). Ironically, the sketch gets closer to the truth than the first part: that Saddam's lackeys were corrupt and deluded to a surreal degree; part of a cruel and cowardly system. It does what all jokes do (if they're not half bad): cut out the crap and get to the heart of the matter.

Strange that he can crank out both, and put them in the same column. Maybe he's trying to have a bob each way? Or maybe he really is so jaded that he just doesn't give a fuck about what's right or wrong, good or bad anymore. He's just throwing down the words on the page to justify his hefty salary, just as he yodels happily for his corporate masters at 2UE. He calls himself a "hack", but I think this title (and song) might be more appropriate.

I'm sure you've all seen these photos by now. But there's one pearler of a snap I have to say something about. I reckon it'll live in, er, anti-infamy. It's halfway down this archive and shows a couple of blokes holding a sign reading: "Go home human shields. You US wankers."

Now that's priceless. Just the kind of anti-Americanism I'm all for!

Found this story about a very unhappy polar bear via this quarter-wit's blog. He reckons it's the stifling institution of marriage that's to blame. But maybe she's just a bipolar bear? Or perhaps it's the heat, and she's got a thaw head?

Here's a funny satirical piece by Lowell Ponte about possible career opportunities for Mohammed Said Sahaf, eternal optimist. He says that the "liberal" media would love to hire him for his quirky sex appeal and PC views.

In the piece, Ponte describes him as the "Minister of Misinformation". The pun puts me in mind of another surreal tosser: this Minister of Msinformation. Maybe they could have a show of their own, not unlike this pompous pair, in which they quack on about the vile push for worldwide democracy coming out of Washington instead of crap fillums made by Hollywood?

I'm not a barking nutbar or anything, but I must admit to a growing interest in the UFO phenomenon. It is clearly a mass psychosis, and its sheer size shows just how many seriously sick puppies there are out there. Still, wouldn't it be great if it were all true?

For those of you who, like me, are hooked on this drug, here's an excellent site.

A fluffy wuffy who is close and dear to me -- no, I'm not being facetious -- described the war today: "It's a terrible business. It's just awful. I'm not going to find any joy in the outcome."

The subtext to this remark seemed to be that, well, yes it's good that Saddam Hussein is gone or going, but it's not appropriate to be happy about it.

Then I saw the elated crowds in Baghdad on the teev tonight. They held a slightly different view.

How ironic is that? Fluffs are appalled at the bombing, but the civilians of the city that was bombed are over the friggin' moon! Crikey, the fluffs are so solipsistic and sanctimonious, they won't even give (formerly) oppressed people credit for their own jubilation.

Speaking of sanctimonious solipsists: Heard Carlton Lite masturbating his larynx on the radio yesterday. He was quacking on disdainfully about the installation of an "American puppet" in the near future.

My first reaction was, well how do you know that this Iraqi will be a "puppet"? And even if he is, isn't that still an improvement on the puppet master who ran the joint before?

Weak-as-piss Carlton, like so many sad ol' lefty dreamers, clearly believes that Western capo-democracy is inferior to atavistic totalitarianism. Yet he's a deejay who makes squillions on a commerical radio station. It's hilarious! Hasn't he figured out that the very fact he can intersperse his unctuous oral advertorials with little pinko puffs of indignation and suffer no ill consequence whatsoever clearly illustrates how superior our system is to all the others on the planet -- let alone one that employs a human threshing machine to stay in power?

Obviously not.

What a tosser.

But back to the "terrible business" of war: Of course it's a terrible business. The battlefield is hardly a joyous and life-affirming work environment. And being a military commander, while not physically dangerous (er, unless you're an Iraqi one -- he, he!) is not exactly a pleasant gig. Apart from the knowledge of what you're going to do to the enemy, imagine how it feels to send your own citizens into danger? Does anyone actually believe that blokes like Rummy and Tommy Franks are actually enjoying their duties? Certainly, they are gaining satisfaction from knowing they are removing a tyrant. But I'm sure the feeling is very mixed. The worst that can be said of them is that they are looking at things in a cold and uncompromising manner, like a surgeon who looks at a gangrenous limb and realises all he can do is lop the bastard off.

Heartless? Perhaps. Cruel? No way.

John Lennon said "give peace a chance". The West does, all the time. Gave "peace" a chance for 12 years in Iraq.

I don't like the idea of violence. I'm a complete wuss. I've been known to wet myself when the pimply kid from the local video store phones to say I've got a fillum overdue. But how else do you deal with an immense group of mass-murderers and rapists who have complete control of an entire country. Send them an aromatherapy pack with affirmations? Some soap from the Body Shop? A little book of friggin' hugs?

Shit. Grow up fluffs. Evil is its own force. It's not evil to beat it down with greater force. The quicker and more thoroughly it's done, the better.

I was just scouring the Deckchair Theatre website for something to annoy me. Sure enough, I found it. (They never let me down.)

Here, on the "Late Suppers" page was this description: "THE LATE SUPPERS are an exclusive opportunity to discuss the craft of theatre with those whose work you've just enjoyed."

The obvious response to this is, why are they so damned sure you will have "just enjoyed" that night's play? Or is having a critical opinion of it a friggin' thought crime?

I just feel like having a bitch about young blokes and their dumb music. See, I'm in an internet cafe, as usual. (Still haven't gotten around to getting online from home.) This peckerhead next to me had earphones on and was playing music so loud my screen was shaking. (Well, I'm a exaggerating a little, but it was certainly clearly audible. And being the sensitive, artistic type that I am it really fucking annoyed me!)

I politely asked him to turn it down. "Eh?" he barked.

"Can you please turn it down a little?"

He lowered one of the earphones.

"Could you please turn it down? It's really loud."

He just stared back at me vacantly and said, "So?"

No change.

As I moved to another PC I made a couple of snippy comments about him having brain damage. Don't think he heard me, but.

Now, I'm proud of being very un-PC and all, and I'm more than a tad shat off with bimbo-feminist carping about men (that sentiment probably comprises half this blog, I reckon). But what is it about blokes, Walkmans, and stupid music? Whenever you hear that moronic backbeat in a train carriage or on a bus and you look around to locate its source, sure as shit it's never a woman.

Whenever I see these guys I want to say: Do you know what you're doing to your brain with that crap? (In fact, I have said that a couple of times. Either they don't hear me, or they just shrug disdainfully and turn the volume up.)

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a wowser. But imagine how loud that music would have to be that people several metres away can hear it and be annoyed by it? And it's always crap music. It's never Mozart, Pachelbel, or even Ray Charles now is it?

What are these guys trying to do? Is that malestrom of androgens causing them so much friggin' psychosexual angst that they just have to erase it with sound? Or is it some primal tribal thing? Or maybe it's because their neurons are so numbed already that only a thousand decibels at point blank range will do the gig?

Shit I dunno. Whatever the reason it really pisses me off. There oughta be a law, I say!

If you ever thought that fluffy wuffies were basically caring, sharing, huggy wuggy types whose only fault was their excessive zeal, then have a look at their reactions to the death of Michael Kelly.

They just glow with liberal love and goodwill.

Maybe not a smoking gun, but certainly a poisonously mouldy one.

(And re that whole WMD thing: Wasn't it nauseating to hear squits in the media carp petulantly about how long it was taking to find 'em during the war, when before it began they kept saying, "More time. More time!")

I found an amazing graph via Andrew Sullivan's blog. It shows which countries armed Iraq, and to what extent, over the last 30 years. As you'll see, Saddam acquired a large proportion of his weapons from France and Russia, two of the countries chanting, "Lay off him. He wouldn't hurt a fly!" (And contrary to the fluffy wuffy line, the Seppos have sold him close to buggerall.)

It's so revealing I'm almost suspicious of its veracity. Looks dinkum, but.

They called him "Chemical Ali". But now Ali is nothing but chemicals.

Poetic justice or what!

Hey Disney execs, you should check this story out. It says that at least one species of dinosaur habitually devoured its own kind. So they're not as cute and cuddly as that nauseating cartoon you recently inflicted upon us made them out to be.

My guess is that all dinos were so viciously cannibalistic they would have killed themselves off even if that comet hadn't hit the Yucatan Peninsula all them eons ago.

Dumb fucken lizards.

Gawd. Derek Sapphire is arcing up again -- this time about censorship. He reminds me of many bilious bolshie blowhards I've met in Artsville over the years. To them freedom of speech is the right to shout other people down.

Here's a bit of a cack. To get around anti-smoking laws, a restaurant in Noo Yawk is keeping the nicotine addicts happy by cooking meals with tobacco. It's not entirely original, since people have been eating hash cookies for yonks. A clever idea, but.

Will smack sandwiches be next?

Madonna balks at airing her explosive, Dubya-destroying fillum clip. Why?

"It was filmed before the war started, and I do not believe it is appropriate to air it at this time. Due to the volatile state of the world and out of sensitivity and respect to the armed forces, who I support and pray for, I do not want to risk offending anyone who might misinterpret the meaning of this video."

Bullshit, bimbo. You wussed out because you saw what happened to the Dixie Chicks, whose anti-war stance severely eroded their popularity and earning power.

Posturing pinko David Marr has been cranking out the corporate conspiracy line again. At some plonk-sodden toss-fest "Marr suggested that political and business 'elites' had inverted that term and directed it towards mostly poor and marginal artists. In response, literary novelists had retreated from the sharp edge of public debate."

What garbage. Arty wankers continue to squitter up a storm, dutifully squawking in crock-step with paranoid sushi-Stalinists like Marr. If some have grown silent it's probably because they've finally pulled their heads out of their arses and are actually contemplating things for a change.

The whole irony of being in Artsville is that you remain poor and marginal if you don't obey the lumpen squitterati, not if you do. (Even then you never become filthy rich, of course. Bureaucrats still nick most of the money. You do get slung a few bucks and a lump of stale gouda every now and then, but.)

This is way out of date for the blogosphere, but I just wanted to say a couple of things about the Oscars the other night: You've got to wonder about a bash that gives a fillum of pure fantasy (Bowling For Columbine) the best doco award and gives best actress honours to the insipid Nicole Kidman. Hell, the only convincing element of her performance was her friggin' nose, which was fake.

How prosthetic!

John J Ray deftly describes another good reason for invading Iraq:

"Simple: Once both Saddam and the Taliban are gone other Muslim leaders will get the message loud and clear that they must co-operate in the fight against terror or else. Simple and rational and highly desirable.

"If it was about oil why did the US intervene in Kosovo? No oil there. They intervened there for purely humanitarian reasons. If it was about oil they would have taken over Saudi Arabia. It produces more oil, has an army of only about 7,000 men and could be taken over in an afternoon. Which is why the Saudis try to be friendly of course."

And I'm sure there'll be other states who will be a lot more friendly when the war in Iraq is over.

If Whacko Jacko and Lisa Marie Presley weren't so damn super-famous, they would surely have ended up on Jerry Springer.

Here's Michael Moore on his anti-Bush rant at the Quackademy Awards: "I just hope I generated a discussion about Mr. Bush and the war."

What, like there hadn't been one already up to that point?

Solipsistic turd.

After recently discovering that Saddam has more than one female bio-terrorism expert, I suspected that the dashing dictator might have still others in his employ. And yes, I found out that as well as Dr Germ and Mrs Anthrax, there's also Sister Salmonella, Ms Malaria, Lady Legionella and Princess Plague.

Now that's what I call a-germ-ative action!

After over a month's inactivity my arch nemesis Derek Sapphire has resumed blogging again. God help us!

I'm not a journo or anything, but I think I've just stumbled on an editorial balls-up at the SMH. See, in this story about a video of one of Hussein's creepy meetings, the headline reads: "Saddam's 'Dr Germ' seen at meeting, says US".

As the story states, Dr Germ is Rihab Rashida Taha. Yet the chick in the vid is identified as Huda Salih Mahdi Ammash. Now her nickname is not "Dr Germ", it's actually "Mrs Anthrax".

They've got their Baath Party bio-terror babes all arse-about! So, either the army PR guys have made an error in attributing nicknames, and the SMH has just repeated it, or the editor has confused the two women. Either way it's pretty shoddy work. Also really sexist, since I doubt the SMH -- a renowned bastion of political correctness -- would make a similar mistake about men.

Jeez, it makes me so angry! When are women gonna be treated equally by the Western media? I mean, Saddam wouldn't make such a mistake now would he?

Sick to their stomachs from holding "vomit-ins", American appeaseniks are now holding "die-ins" where they all lob in a group and symbolically cark it. Jeez, wouldn't it be nice if they'd do it for real...

One down, several million to go.

Dr Helen Caldecott is a pacifist and a feminist. In other words she's at war with men. (Men who never fight back, of course; men who would die to protect her.)

What a nasty little half-person she is. No wonder so many women have deserted her movement.

Here's a punchy article by Debbie Schlussel slamming the fictionality of Michael Moore's Oscar-winning Bowling for Columbine.

She pithily describes Moore: "A fictitious man living in a fictitious time. With a fictitious, Academy Award winning 'documentary.' As Brian Rohrbough, whose son Daniel died at Columbine, said, 'This is just a guy trying to capitalize on the tragedy of others.'"

That last line really nails him. He's capital-izing alright. As a result of his surreal, mean-spirited fantasy the sly slob is rolling in it!

Yet his boneheaded acolytes still can't spot the irony. Many were heartened by his victory at the Oscars. Surely, as enemies of corporate greed and cultural imperialism (which are the very foundations of Hollywood) you'd expect them to be disgusted, or at least disillusioned by it. I mean, the award's a gleaming golden bloke ferfucksake. That alone should have rung some alarm bells!

But nope, the tragic tossers were utterly bedazzled -- unlike the mainstream working stiffs ("corporate dupes") who avoided the show in their millions to keep up to date with events in Iraq.

Yep, colour and movement (and money). Hooks the pinkos every time.

Tammy Bruce has a great new label to describe the posturing flashbulb addicts of Tinseltown. She calls them "malignant narcissists". I reckon it's spot on.

James Morrow refers to some shockin' media bias in its war reporting. One of the ITN newsreaders apparently used the phrase "appallingly heavy bombing". While watching the ABC a night or two ago, I saw one of their bolshie Barbie doll anchors use the phrase "US propaganda machine".

No one with one eye half open and an IQ over fifty is gonna say that the army PR guys are entirely honest all the time. But "propaganda machine"? Gawd. Emotive or what?

Surreal simpleton Senator Andrew Bartlett doesn't like the idea of liberating Iraq, because "Australia is now diplomatically and militarily handcuffed to the United States. We will be unavoidably now part of Mr Bush's new world order."

Yeah, a world order that involves the removal of children-gassing, women-raping, dissenter-shredding brutes. Sounds like a damn fine thing to me.

Like most fluffs Fartlett has an extremely selective moral code and despises Western values. Yet he's a "Democrat"? Gawd. That's like saying Ted Bundy's a friggin' feminist!

(Er... actually that was probably a bad analogy. Some feminists were actually pleased as punch with the slick lady killer because he blamed smut for his murder spree.)

I'll try again: Yet he's a "Democrat"? That's like saying Phillip Adams is an intellectual.

Ah, that's better.

But back to Fartlett. Not only does he ignore man's inumanity to man when it suits, but he's more upset about man's inhumanity to ham. Some Republicans may be chicken hawks, but Fartlett's a chicken chook. His whole philosophy can be described thus: "If in doubt, pullet!" Have a look here and you'll see how fowl his reasoning is.

The interview is a real quack-up. It includes a classic photo of him dolled up with a hen (probably his significant other). Susan Sarandon's conservative mother (last post) says she has to tread on eggshells around her daughter. But if she ever lobbed at the Fartlett household, she'd have do that literally as well!

What a silly cock-head he is.

Gawd! Lenora Tomalin, mother of uber-squit Susan Sarandon, is actually pro-Bush! Perhaps there's some serious Freudian shit going on there underneath Sarandon's regally oblivious exterior? Would be nice to think so. But I doubt it. I don't think she possesses a subconscious. Years of living in Tinseltown with other sanctimonious, over-rewarded egomaniacs would have removed any psychological complexity she may once have possessed.

Tomalin describes the discomfort of visiting her daughter's house. She says she has to "tread on eggshells". I know the feeling. Whenever I'm around fluffs I'm forever biting my tongue (sometimes to stop myself from laughing at their arse-about reasoning and/or ignorance, but usually because they're already spitting foam over some petty point or other and I don't want to rile them even more with dissent). This cracks me up, since conservatives are so often portrayed as unreasonable and overbearing!

Gee. Some Smothers do 'ave e'm!

Hello again readers (or should that be singular?). Sorry for the absence. I've just been flat out like a lizard drinkin' for several weeks. Many times recently I resolved to resume blogging. But other things came up. Today I saw that I hadn't done so for almost a month. Thought it was just a week!

Amazing how the older you get, the quicker time seems to pass. Why is that? I read somewhere that your neurotransmitters get all out of whack, causing a shift in time perception. But I don't buy that. I reckon there's a purely mathematical explanation. See, when you're a day old, one day is your whole life. When you're two days old, it's half your life, etc. By the time you're forty, then a day is around about one fifteen thousandth of your life. See what I mean?

Remember the immortal lines from that classic Seppolian soapie? "Like sands through the hourglass so are the days of our lives."

Piss off! That should have been: "Like droplets of water from a high pressure hose (which is increasing in pressure at an exponential rate) so are the days of our lives." But then, that's ungainly, and a tad depressing. The housewives watching at home wouldn't have liked that.

But back to the task of blogging: Here's a great article by Sophie Masson. She writes that "the US and Britain launched a series of air strikes on Baghdad on December 16, 1998. These were intended to be only of limited range - regime change had been rejected, as much as a full-scale war."

So they weren't serious, full-scale attacks. But surely many innocent lives were put at risk, if not snuffed out altogether. Yet the appeaseniks were mostly silent, and remained fully clothed the whole time. I don't recall so much as a righteous nipple or a brazen pube flashed in defiance back then.

Why the double standard? Well, it's obvious. Appeaseniks are just suckers for star-power. They don't understand or respect anything but pretty faces, pretty pictures, pretty sounds and pretty words. They were star-struck by Clinton, fellow traveller and celebrity prez. Just like metaphorical Monicas, they kneeled down before him and indulged his whim.

But Dubya? No way. No figurative fellatio for him! He has a moral code he's serious about. He has a spine, and a mind and a heart. To the po-mo appeaseniks that's just not sexy. And if he's not sexy, he must be evil.

Dumb fucks.

Scary thing is these pinheads seem to be multiplying. Yep, there's a leftie born every minute.

Some thoughts on the mindset of the fluffy wuffy demonstrator: The thing that has always amused me about many habitual placard-wavers is not the intensity of their commitment, but the lack of it. They go along to demos much as people go to the footy: because it's a ritual, all their friends are doing it, and they get to shout a lot and let off steam.

I remember once bumping into this Fremantle fluff on a train, whom I'd previously met at a party. We made a bit of small talk about non-political subjects. I'd expressed nothing to suggest -- either then or at the party -- what my political views were. Completely out of the blue she told me that there was an anti-development demo on the weekend. "If you're not doing anything, you might want to come along."

I felt like saying, "Well, I'll have a read about what's happening. If I decide I sympathise with the demonstrators' cause, and think that jumping around chanting some silly slogan will do any good for it, then I might show up."

Of course I didn't. I simply politely refused. She shrugged, and we changed the subject.

The thing that amazed me was the casualness of the suggestion. She clearly had no real emotional or intellectual commitment to it. She was going to lob there because, well, that's what you're supposed to do. It was an automatic, conditioned response, kind of like the staff at Macca's saying, "Have a nice day!"

I've often encountered this automaton-like behaviour amongst lefties. The reason they don't understand other opinions is because they don't know that there are any other opinions. I doubt they even truly know what their opinions are either. They've never really thought about anything much. They're just like lumps of seaweed, swaying back and forth with the tide. If this woman's friends were Nazis (er, real ones, not mere wannabes like me) then I'm sure she'd be doing the goose-step in no time at all.

Of course the foam-spitting ferals are a different kettle of filth. They are deeply committed to their nasty, idiotic ideology. They can't see reason because they're terrified of it, and are trapped in a constant state of fear and loathing.

This is why we non-fluffs shouldn't be too worried by the huge turnout against the war. I think most of the people who lobbed belonged to the two groups described above -- they were either air-heads or rumble-gutses. They weren't people who'd thought long and hard about the subject and finally, calmly decided to become appeaseniks. Still there's obviously a huge social problem to contend with when there are so many people out there who are that friggin' dumb.

Have a look here and you'll see how deep the fluffy wuffy cancer is in the country. I can imagine the staff at the SMH assembling this group of photos with a real sense of pride, confident that it shows what a kind and humane lot we tolerant, peace-loving Sydney-siders are. But I find it truly creepy.

Have a look at the pregnant chick in the bottom left hand corner. Her sign reads, "Power is in giving life." Well, I have no argument with that. But has it not occurred to her, and to the many bong-suckling barbarians in beanies that marched alongside her, that getting serious with the Butcher of Baghdad is not a contradiction of the sentiment she's expressing, but a confirmation of it?

By disarming Saddam (forcefully if necessary) we will be preserving and improving the lives of the oppressed citizens of Iraq, and protecting the lives of people in the West and Israel and other states in the Middle East. And if the UN comes along for the ride, the coalition of the willing will also be preserving any last vestiges of dignity and authority that institution retains. Surely she should be in support of that, if nothing else.

As a feminist (and I assume she is -- any appeaseniks who aren't?) she should also be aware that Iraq, like some other barbaric shit-holes in the region, isn't exactly chick-friendly. If she were to lob at an anti-government demo in Baghdad Uday and his mates would soon have her guts for garters (literally) and her tongue for dog food. Her head would probably be nailed to her front door just for good measure.

There's also the irony that this woman, or at least most of the women there, would be defiantly pro-choice. Peace rallies full of right-to-lifers? I doubt it. They're all "right-wing loons" aren't they?

So a more thorough encapsulation of the appeasenik position on the life-giving paradigm would be: "Power is in giving life... er, unless that life is deemed inconvenient to me. Then I'll pop into the nearest abortion clinic and have it ended pronto, and the body that contained it sucked out and spat into a bucket. My body my choice!"

Hey, bimbo! Why not just hold a sign reading, "Tyranny rocks, dude!"

I've long found the UFO phenomenon fascinating, mainly because it's so wacky -- particularly the whole abductions caper. But I've always looked at it from a very rational point of view, and never believed any of it. Lately, however, my fascination is becoming less detached. I keep looking at the sky, hoping to see a flying disc. I watch alien abduction docos repeatedly, and find myself thinking, "Maybe there's something in all this... I mean, these people really seem to believe this happened to them!"

Gawd. It's disgraceful. Why am I feeling this way? I reckon it's to do with all this anxiety about terrorism. When you're scoring dangerously high on the angstometer you keep yearning for some sort of certainty, a spiritual Prozac pill to calm your troubled psyche. If you're an atheist, you can't turn to some old bearded bloke up in the ether. You have to settle for a bug-eyed, spindly-fingered, dome-headed mega-midget from Zeta Reticuli.

I really hope that this Saddam-Osama problem is solved quickly. Otherwise the angst will take its toll and I'll soon end up being one of those credulous boneheads hocking Roswell conspiracy theories! With my brain sufficiently softened, I'll be sucked in to all this anti-American hysteria that's been going on of late. Gawd. I might even end up at some anti-WTO demo, babbling bilious bullshit with a friggin' tea-cosy on my bonce!

So, I dearly hope that Saddam complies pronto, or gets comprehensively thwocked in the shortest time possible. That will be a giant step towards saving the world from terrorism. It will also save my mind from complete and utter disintegration.

Gawd. Derek Sapphire has just accused me of ruining his blog. What a crock!

Hey, Derek, you jasmine-scented super-wanker! Considering all the bullshit you've been spinning over the last few months, have you considered your blogging troubles might be the result of bad karma?

Oh no, of course you wouldn't have. Whenever smug lefties and New Agers have it rough, it's never their fault. Then it's oppression or persecution. But whenever anyone else cops it, then it's cosmic punishment for wrongs the victims have committed.

Hey Mr "fellow traveller", I hope your PC catches that "Sapphire worm" that's crashing computers all over the joint. Hell, it's got your name on it.

Fluffy wuffy arsehole.

Was that Whacko Jacko doco full-on creepy, or what? I didn't watch all of it, but I saw enough to make me feel both disturbed by and sorry for the poor prick. I mean, he's known by bloody everyone in the entire world, yet he's completely and utterly alone. Watching him lope dopily around the joint pursued by legions of gawking, prodding fans he reminded me of John Merrick, the "Elephant Man" -- except that Merrick wasn't a mega-deluded, psychosexually twisted friggin' nutbar, of course. (Er, and his nose was in better shape, too.)

And re all them creepy goings on in the Jackson bedroom: Of course the Whackster's stubborn refusal to understand interviewer Martin Bashir's horror was cause for alarm. But what about the complicity of the kids' parents or guardians? Either they're being paid to let their children stay there (a possibility) or they're completely under the spell of his celebrity. Either way that's a bigger worry. I mean, it's sad enough for an abused, lonely, neurotic multi-millionaire to seek refuge from reality in Neverland, but it's worse when lots of "normal" people indulge his bizarre fantasy by offering him their children.

For people interested in the turmoil in Zimbabwe, here's a good collection of articles. It includes a story published in The Oz (it's the fourth one listed) about an interesting doco made by a former resident of Zimbabwe called Chloe Traicos. Not only is Chloe a film-maker, but she's also an actress and playwright. Yet she's only in her mid-twenties! Keep an eye out for her.

Anyone who thinks that the United Nations possesses a moral authority greater than Seppolia's should have a squizz at this great article.

Another fictional character is causing offence. Apparently a bunch of Moscow silks are a tad shat off about the character of Dobby in the latest Harry Potter fillum. They reckon he looks too much like their leader, Vladimir Putin.

Here's Vlad. Here's Dobby. You decide.

Apparently an MTV cartoon called Clone High has caused a ruckus. It's all about a school chockas with the clones of famous people throughout history. Gandhi is presented as an out-of-control horn-dog. Understandably, the people of India aren't too happy about that!

The irony is that the characterization probably isn't too far off. Gandhi was a class-act, of course, but he was still human. And look at the lives of other gurus like Koresh, Jones, and Bagwhan Shree Rajneesh. All of them used their power to extract sexual favours from women (and sometimes children). In fact, I suspect that's why they set off on the "spiritual" path in the first place.

And it's well known that Gandhi loved the company of spunky young babes. He would get them to spend the night with him, starkers, so as to test his ability to resist temptation. He was getting his rocks off, by keeping them on! Don't know about you, but that seems extremely kinky to me.

Dirty bastard!

More silly squittering from Susan Sarandon. Now she's carping about Tony Blair's position on Iraq. But why was she speaking publicly in the first place? To promote The Banger Sisters, a silly, mediocre and inconsequential fillum about a couple of superannuated tarts!

Gawd, she should make up her mind about whether she's an actress or an activist. If she does settle decisively on the former career, then the ol' bimbo should start choosing better scripts before she loses all her hard-earned cred in that area, too.

This fillum Confessions of a Dangerous Mind looks interesting. It's based on a dodgy autobiography by Chuck Barris, visionary creator of early reality TV shows like The Gong Show. This piece makes a few interesting points about how what was seen as decadent, degrading and shocking then would be deemed tame now.

Makes me wonder what reality TV will be like a few years hence. I reckon we'll see desperate bachelors lining up for blind dates with goats and chickens and the weekly loser on Big Brother being slaughtered and eaten by all the other inmates. When people complain the defence will be the same: "Oh come on, the show's all in fun. We all know that. Don't be such a kill-joy."

Gawd. Now stalking is considered a "cultural" issue. The West today is a relativist's wet dream.

I'm a bit of a net and blogging newbie, so please don't roll your eyes when you read this. But I've just found this amazing page on Google which maps all the searching trends. This is fantastic, because not only can I learn about the contemporary zeitgeist (love that word, don't you?) but I can also use it to get more hits for my site.

For instance, some top searches for early January were "Iraq", "Clonaid" and "Joe Millionaire". So, if I keep whopping in these names, I'll get my hits up. The problem is, how do I put them all in the one post (er, aside from merely listing them like I just did)?

Give me a while to think about this, I'll get back to you...

This story, about a SNAG slowly discovering his inner lech, is an absolute classic.

If you thought that the man-hating feminazi is merely an invention of appalling misogynists cop an optic of this. It's a story about Mary Daly, serious advocate of the "gendercide" of men. She's just the kind of bizarro creepoid this tosser would adore, I reckon. Needless to say she's way cool amongst the twisted sisterhood.

Good to know that Dubya is sticking it to tiny-minded tyrants at home as well as abroad.

There's a pithy post from Tex at Whacking Day on the drug legalization debate. I concur with a lot of it. But I'd like to make a couple of dissenting points.

Firstly, he says: "You're seeing the picture here: drug prohibition makes everything worse, legalisation makes everything better." Can't buy that one. Nothing's that simple, surely.

Another point: Nowhere in the post does he say that drug-taking is often stupid, wrong, and destructive not only to the person who does it, but also to people around him.

At the risk of sounding like a tight-arse, whingeing wowser this point should be made occasionally at least. I mean, you should invoke morality at some point in these arguments. Otherwise, what's the point? My view: you can still make something legal, or permissable, while simultaneously discouraging and condemning it. It's like abortion. Abortion is wrong, no doubt about it. But often it is the lesser of two evils.

(By the way, please don't see this as me being indecisive; having a bob each way. Or maybe you can, I suppose. But I'd rather you didn't. Er, but either way I don't want to judge you for it... Look, it all depends on the context, doesn't it?)

Faaaaark! I'm becoming a fluffy wuffy!

Gawd. Another glitz-orific circle jerk for the flashbulb addicts of Tinseltown. Crikey, it's like there's one of these bashes every friggin' week! I'm amazed they even have time to sleep, let alone make the fillums they are constantly congratulating themselves for.

And why do these people take themselves so seriously? They're just emotionally retarded egomaniacs playing pretendies, after all. Sure, fillums are enjoyable, and occasionally even thought-provoking. But they're never actually important.

Any celebrophilic fluffy wuffs out there who don't believe me? Okay, try and think of any fillum which actually had an impact on society and demonstrably changed the world in the same way that a great invention like the dunny did, for instance.

See, ya can't, can ya! Because there aren't any. Art is a mirror. Not a hammer. Stick that up yer arse and smoke it, fluffs.

And here's another excellent piece of lefty-bashing by Chris Corrigan. In it, he shows how destructive the unionist cult of mediocrity is by transposing it to the footy field.

You could so the same thing in Artsville, I reckon. If you hired arty wankers on the basis of talent and skill, rather than on political allegiance, then there might actually be a few Australian plays and fillums worth seeing!

Here's a lovely piece by Peter Ryan, ageing lefty-basher. It gracefully encapsulates what I've been thinking a lot lately, that Howard's persistence is finally paying off, and that the jackbooted fluffy wuffies really are on their way out. More and more people are finally realising that Howard really has got his lucid, humane eye on the truly Big Picture. (Unlike Keating, who had his reptilian, gimlet eye on one the size of a friggin' laptop screen.)

In the future, Howard, along with Reagan, Dubya and his old man, and Maggie Thatcher will all be remembered as great leaders. But Clinton, Keating, Whitlam, etcetera? They'll all be forgotten almost entirely. If they are remembered at all, it will only be as bad examples.

More on that infant-ingesting clown from Beijing: As this article states Mr. Zhu, the alleged artist -- a Christian -- is shown explaining to the doco maker "that he set up the baby-eating performance after realizing that no religion or secular law expressly forbade cannibalism".

Yeah, well, I reckon no religion or secular law expressly forbids shoving a live taipan up yer blurter while rollerblading back and forth along the top of a train as it rapidly approaches a tunnel, but that doesn't mean you should fucken do it!

Ugh! The pure, distilled idiocy of it!

Fuck but it shits me.

Here's a pretty unequivocal piece on how best to deal with terrorists from a former Seppolian soldier. It's as funny as it is persuasive.

Bob Ellis pads out a really threadbare piece on the cloning kerfuffle. His argument: because so many bubs are born in different ways, what's the difference if some are cloned?

But the sad old sot doesn't understand. There is a big difference. A cloned child is completely unlike any other that has come before, because it, er, has come before. It's a copy, not a unique being. It has no real parent, only an original. This is the unalterable fact from which so many ethical risks emanate.

These include the possibility of people using cloning for spare parts, or the rich and powerful using it to further increase their advantages (as a leftie Bob should be pissed off about that one).

And what about being the clone himself? Imagine knowing that you are in effect the twin of your "mother" or "father". Imagine realising that the only reason you exist is to replace your long dead twin, because your "parents" still can't get over his early death. That'd do your head in for sure.

Yep, there's enough about the mere idea of cloning to creep out any reasonably intelligent, compassionate person. No wonder the fluffs don't have a problem with it.

In this article about the fallout from a notorious doco about a baby-eating artist in China (see my post of 1/1/2003), the peckish performer in question is quoted as saying that it was his "duty as an artist to spark debate about morality and art". Yeah, well it's my duty as an artist to say that this guy's a fake and a tosser, not to mention an extremely sick fuck.

Talk about the end of civilization. Just do something truly revolting, call it art and the squitterati will herald you as a friggin' genius. (And moral considerations aside, where's the skill in what he did? If he'd expertly diced and fried it -- or perhaps juggled the body parts while riding a unicycle -- then he might have scored a few points for acumen. But nup. Couldn't be bothered. Just wolfed back the infant raw. What a talentless prick.)

This particular "performance" did take place in China, but it's just a matter of time before it happens here. My guess is that at the next Melbourne Whinge Festival some bong-suckling barbarian in a beanie will out-bleck! the Chinese cannibal. He'll pull about six titanic cones on the trot, get a ferocious attack of the munchies, then completely devour some poor bastard in the front row.

The cops will show up and arrest him, but not before he dismembers at least one or two of them. The Age will run a story about police brutality, and Barrie Kosky will be seen on Lateline quacking on pompously about "the death of creative freedom under Howard's totalitarian regime".

Fuck. I'm an atheist but I'm considering becoming a Christian just so I can pray for lightning bolts to strike these fucking tossers and turn them into piles of ash!

Now that would be a work of art. (Wouldn't get a grant for it, but.)

Are there any celebs who aren't either petty thieves, bong-sucklers, smack-heads or out-of-contol friggin' dipsos?

Boffins reckon that sex is actually good for the brain! But if that's true, then wouldn't that make this bloke the most intelligent man on earth?

Maybe he is, and he's just been hiding his light under a bushel...

Here are two great pieces on the power of tribal emotion to wash away rational thought in even quite brainy people.

Yet another thought on the Raelians: They're clearly not Christians. In fact, their whole philosophy is about as far away from that world-view as you can get. So why did they call the alleged cloned sproglet "Eve"?

Bloody unoriginal, I reckon.

Lazy cultists.

Gawd. Talk about "cutting edge"!

While I'm making predictions, here's another one: I read a letter in a recent print edition of The Oz. (Sorry, can't recall exactly which issue, so don't have a link or complete text.) Anyway, it was a pithy missive referring to the Windschuttle challenge to the "black armband" approach to Australian history. It more or less stated that "factual correctness" would -- or at least should -- challenge political correctness in the universities.

Well, I reckon this will be the start of a whole new process. Factual correctness will be abbreviated to "FC" and be invoked by non-fluffs in the same way that "PC" is currently invoked by fluffs. For example: "Er, I know I'm being really, um, FC, here. But shouldn't you be able to give me some sort of irrefutable, empirical evidence to back up your claim that all men are rapists?"

Similarly, the fluffs will claim that they are oppressed by the right-wing orthodoxy of factual correctness. Eventually we'll read headlines like: "Australian Union of Students demands an end to FC on Curtin University campus!"

Then we'll know for sure that things are improving.

Sorry, but here's yet another post on the Raelians (I know, I've got sects on the brain). This time I want to make a couple of predictions:

This report tells us that Clonaid has thousands lining up to be replicated. This number will surely grow the longer the cult is in the headlines. At 200 grand a pop, that's extremely big money. This whole cloning claim was clearly a scam to get hold of it (d'uh).

So, I reckon they'll keep taking orders, while all the time delaying inspection of the sprog like Saddam on valium.

Then what? The wannabe clonees will become extremely shat off and demand their money back. But it won't be forthcoming. With the authorities on their tails, the head Raelians will go underground. We won't hear anything of them for several months.

Then they'll hit the headlines again when their lifeless bodies are found in a basement in a secluded farmhouse somewhere in the French countryside. Yep, it'll end just as all them other wacky cults do: with a mass suicide.

You don't reckon? Just you wait and see.

Another thought on the Raelians: It seems odd that a cult that's so heavily into "free love" (i.e. mad rooting) should also be obsessed with cloning, which -- apart from being unethical -- is also hyper-clinical, antiseptic and therefore anti-sexual (sex being synonomous with all them sticky body fluids and all).

Also, Raelians say their interest in the technique is related to their desire to create physically and intellectually superior people. But cloning isn't improvement, it's just replication. So, invoking the super-race argument implies that the would-be clonee thinks he's already perfect.

That said, why do they bother with cloning at all? They just need to get all the sect members who want to be cloned to ditch their frangers and dutch caps before the next "sensual meditation" session (i.e. balls-to-the-wall clusterfuck) then harvest the resulting sprogs.

That'd save a lot of time and effort wouldn't it?

Speaking of the sad randomness of beauty, here's another example: Brigitte Boisellier, self-proclaimed human cloning mastermind. Okay, so she's not Claudia Schiffer, but she does scrub up alright. And that's pretty sad considering what she's just done (or at least, has been trying to do). Wouldn't it be easier to stomach if she was just really butt-ugly?

There are some good points in this Miranda Devine piece about how ferndamentalist zealotry has made things worse for da cute fwuffy aminals rather than better. She argues that halting small hazard reduction fires leads to an immense build-up of ground fuel that ultimately leads to massive conflagrations.

The article reminded me of some ferndies I saw begging for funds a fortnight ago in Sydney. Each wore a t-shirt with a picture of a koala on it and the words "Please help save my home" (followed by an exhortation to give to the Wilderness Society) written underneath. Having heard this ground fuel argument before, I looked at the t-shirts and had a quiet cack. I felt like saying: "Shouldn't that read, 'Please help destroy my home and me with it you arseholes!'?" But I didn't because one of the ferndies was a very scrumptious, bosomy babe and she flashed me this pearler of a smile. I just melted, I'm afraid.

(That's the really tragic thing about these young ferndie sheilas. Why do so many have to be so gorgeous? It's just too cruel!)

Please Lord, not again -- I beg you!