Let's Use Colloquial Vernacular to be Postmodern

Rewind, selector.

2012-02-13T07:07:00.000+11:00

Do you ever get down?

Look back on your life and wonder what you did all that wasted time?

I've definitely been feeling like that lately- another birthday menacing me from the next month of the calendar. Mortality. Ego. All the good stuff.

I moved here to Australia in 2001. I came here for bigger and better opportunities, as I reached the top of my game in New Zealand, and started to feel like I was suffocating over there. Beautiful place, but my God it's like a village full of gossiping women (except the men are usually worse).

So fuck NZ. I caught the airport shuttle bus to my flight in the dark, and couldn't wait to get out of that place. So much so that I left an amazing girl behind- I was so focused on moving 'forward' I never realised 'til I was long gone just what I had passed over without thinking.

She got me back though, tore my heart right out.

So I moved to Melbourne, after never having been here before. I heard it was the rock capital of Australia, but all that started to rapidly change as soon as I got over here (I'd like to think it wasn't my fault). I toured pretty much non-stop when I got here, but the band that I came over with (and who were selling out massive shows every night back home) weren't getting recognized here. The record company guys kept saying "We've already got a Superjesus", as if every female fronted rock band could be pigeonholed so easily.

So the tours dried up.

My first week here I worked for Bon Jovi.

I started a band. And usually, I think of it as an abysmal failure, when I think back on it. I don't even usually talk about it. But I had a listen tonight, because I'm not in the music biz any more, I work at a friggin' strip club. And that depresses me.

So I plugged in my old 70's headphones with the unlimited bass response, and played back our old EP, rehearsals, demos, ideas... and I really loved it. I could see the holes in the songs, could hear the work that needed to be done. But I could hear exactly what I was aiming for back then too, and it was alright.

I remembered how I got an email from the managers of one of the highest selling acts in American history, offering us a management deal. How my musical idol (and object of desire) guested on our record (and no-one else's- ever!), how really massive bands would hear our music and get in touch to say they liked it, and how dumbfounded we were when it happened.

And that was just the first 3 years or so.

I started a commercial kitchen in the storage area of a landmark inner city pub (which is still serving hot meals as we speak), just because I saw the potential in it. They used it to stack old chairs in, but I cleaned it, fitted it out, got the stock in, drew up menus, hired the staff, and served the people. Then I moved on to the next thing.

I made guitars for a while. Sponsored everybody who's music I liked in Australia. Worked with artists to create signature models. Even made custom guitars for Ben Harper and the Queens of the Stone Age. Got back on the VIP list for festivals and after parties. Liked it.

Then I left the guitar factory, and was invited to join a band that has since gone on to sell platinum in Australia and Gold in the USA and UK. I never played a note with them, but I was invited, and that's nice.

I also went through a really dark time. I won't get into it here. I probably already have. I lost an ex girlfriend and a best friend to suicide.

When I emerged, I had opened a shop of my own in Melbourne selling custom bicycles- choppers, cruisers, sleds, lowriders, and motorcycles too. The guys from American Chopper visited Australia and put us on the list of places to see. It was called Hellbourne Choppers. I also made custom branded bikes for international companies like Slate Bourbon and El Jimador tequila. I took immense pleasure in turning down any offers from Telstra, Optus, Vodafone, or any of the major banks.

It was ridiculously successful until the Australian Government banned every type of bike that we sold. Our distributors all freaked out and stopped importing, and the only bikes I could sell where the ones I made, or found on the internet secondhand. It crippled the store, and I ran into a wall of $35,000 worth of debt. I paid the last cent owed 1 minute before I was due to appear in court for involuntary bankruptcy. I never bankrupted, I made it out alive. I also moved the business to the internet, where it still happily lives today. I do need someone to help me update the site, but regardless of being 2 years out of date, I'm still getting orders all the time. I'm planning on coming back strong this year. I am #1 in search engine rankings- I have total market dominance.

Somewhere in all of that I started working security quite seriously. I have defended everything from 20 billion dollar nuclear-enabled supersonic bombers for the USAF, 5 star Generals, VIP's, rock stars, more rock stars, the Nation of Israel, private properties, vast amounts of cash, military personnel, lounge bars, one of the biggest music venues in Australia for a summer, and of course, a strip club.

I also sat the police entrance exam for Victoria police. I passed with a 94.2% pass score. The minimum score is 156 out of 244, I got 230. I was invited to attend the police college, then had my invitation withdrawn by the new police commissioner who has a stick up his ass regarding tattoos. Thanks Ken, you douche bag.

But it's still an achievement.

Every time I re qualify for my handgun license I shoot a perfect score (300 out of 300) every year I do it. I get to walk around in public fully armed, which is a nice bit of trust to have from the community. I've been doing that for a few years now, no problems to report.

I got my Black Belt (Unit 10) in Tactical Krav Maga. I've started out in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.

I've toured the world (Canada, USA, Asia, Europe, The Middle East, Australia) as a session guitarist for other people (including Anastacia, who was a big deal over here for a while).

I started another band with some of the guys from a stonkingly huge Australian band that broke up, and then got back together afterward. I was kinda like the mistress I guess. We went nowhere, there's no way it could have turned out different. We got a lot of fans though! I never listen to those songs any more.

I passed a first aid course, got a forklift license.

I disappeared a couple of years back to go play music in Dubai. Had a nice apartment, lived at a level of luxury I have never managed to achieve here in Australia. I also got deported from the country, but you know, shit happens.

I worked on a couple of records for very big bands here. Showcased for an artist that got an 18 million dollar offer from a major label on the strength of our performance- acoustic guitar and voice, that's it.

Got flown around here and there, free hotels, ARIA awards, Logies, all that fun stuff.

I've had about 12 words entered into urbandictionary.com too, which is a dubious distinction at best, but I'm actually really happy about those. I like contributing to culture.

Speaking of which, some of my graffiti made the front page of newspapers all over the world, in more than 20 countries. The Government saw the tourism potential in it and commissioned me to make more, and the National Archive in Canberra did the same.

The blog you're reading right now is the first blog in Australian history to be archived by the National Library in Canberra, in a computer archive called 'Pandora'. They said I am "...an integral icon in the cultural landscape of Australia". The word "fuck" appears in the National Library's archive 879 times more, thanks to yours truly.

Sweet.

I've had my writing published, drafted policy for the NSW Government, and for the Environmental Defenders Office. I have a secret twitter that no one knows is me. It's very, very dirty.

I've fallen in love with too many models and strippers, and broke up spectacularly with all of them, so if any of you see me out, and I'm with either profession, just kick me in the nuts. Unless I'm at work. because obviously, there are strippers there.

So when I look back, I guess I did fill up the last 10 years pretty well. I'm not slowing down, so by the time I'm 51 (in another decade- OHMYGOD!!!), hopefully I'll have a bunch more stuff to add to the list.

But rather than accumulating external achievements, there are a couple of internal matters I need to wrap my head around. And I'm not sure how. I need to learn to stop being a kid, and live in my skin. Learn how to be 9 years from 50 years of age, even though there isn't one person on the planet who would pick my age correctly right now.

I am what I am, I need to learn how to be honest about that. To have the courage to leave ego and childishness behind, and be proud of maturity and wisdom and experience. Even though I feel like I'm turning invisible, like one day soon I will cease to exist within the visible spectrum.

And here's a shocker for you- I have no desire whatsoever to live past 60. And if I do so naturally, I will remedy it artificially. I know it's shallow and retarded, but i can't face that, I have no idea why. It's not like I'm a super hot guy who should fear losing my looks- I have always been average at best. But I just can't face the prospect of being fully invisible, overlooked, no longer relevant, in the eyes of the creative younger generation.

Bad and wrong, I know, but there it is.

Let's see what happens...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Lana Del Rey.

2012-02-09T15:02:00.000+11:00

There are no pictures for this post, because this post relates to music.

Normally I don't weigh-in with opinions on popular music unless it's to occasionally remind people that Lady Gaga is Madonna, not David Bowie. And the world moves forward, deaf to my protestations, and that is the natural order of things.

But I feel compelled to point out something that all the music industry critics seem to have missed.

I keep reading critics wondering why there is such a huge backlash against Lana Del Rey. They point out that Bob Dylan worked under an assumed name, The Strokes are rich boys, and Elton John is gay. So (they claim) hating Del Rey for using an assumed name/persona and coming from money is hypocritical.

Of course they're right- but they are missing the point.

Music like 'Born to Die' doesn't traditionally make it to such rarified air as Del Rey's team have managed to launch that record into- it doesn't fit the mainstream profile.

But it sold.

Because people are so enchanted by the concept that someone like Del Rey exists out there, weaving such ghostly musical components together, almost as if the music was made of air (which of course, it is). They are enchanted that she could be real, genuine, not manufactured. That someone so ethereal and alternative could exist in a vacuous mirror ball like L.A., and not be corrupted by the trash and filler.

They don't care if her name isn't real, it's part of the art. But when they discovered her vocal style had changed since her initial EP as Lizzy Grant, the authenticity of the dream began to show its edges...and the cracks widened with each closer investigation.

And so the people felt betrayed. Because given the choice, they would choose to crown artists that produced work to a higher standard than the inhabitants of the charts, they just need guidance. But the video for 'Video Games' on You Tube went viral because the people needed to believe someone out there in the world still believed in MUSIC. Believed in bucking the trends. And even though there are beats on the record, contemporary instrumentation, high production, the result is still ethereal. It still takes you "there". At least, we thought it did, while we thought it was genuine.

In a world of ever-accelerated culture, where 15 minutes of fame has narrowed to seconds, the idea of a mainstream anti-hero, a pure, un-auto-tuned, effortlessly talented, and authentic individual who is unaffected by the disposable production line of chart music, is not only desired, it is essential.

The fact Del Rey doesn't try to throw down dance routines and in your face gimmicks is viewed as a positive, not lacking.

Music consumers are strangled by a lack of soulfulness, of unvarnished honesty. This is why Adelle is so universally lauded. The production on her record is irrelvant- it's her voice, her emotion, and the rawness of her experience that connects you to her. It could have been recorded at home and it would still have touched the same nerve. But the people need more...

And America needed its own incarnation, with its own twist, it's own story.

It was Del Rey's calculated betrayal of the music loving public that has led to her downfall, and it is that same betrayal that music critics don't seem to be able to see. They write about it, sure, but they don't equate it with relevance, as they are in the main tired and disappointed with the choices and opinions of the great unwashed.

Musical elitism precludes them from sympathy toward the people who funded the careers of Limp Bizkit or Lil Wayne.

But souls need nutrition, and given better options, people make better choices. This applies to music too. And for a moment in time, it appeared as if the people had a saviour.

And when they saw that she was a false prophet, the crucifixion commenced...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Sex with Animals.

2012-01-25T20:33:00.000+11:00

Flowers are so great because they're like pets you can own for 5 days, watch them grow and bloom, then just throw them in the trash. It's weird though, how they are the sex organs of plants, and how we rip them off, and smell them, and put them in vases, which are basically a whole subgenre of holding devices for the dismembered sex organs of plants. Without this sick preoccupation we have with flowers, we'd just have containers, jugs, buckets, amphorae and urns.

I had a cat called Amphora once. 'Amphora Thesaurus'. She could piss literal litres of evil cat urine in any given squatting. Her favourite place, when she was angry at me, was in my bookshelf. Need I say more?

If we weren't so messed up, we wouldn't have vases. Or dildos, salsa music, guns, or French cuisine. By contrast, imagine ripping the cock off a dog, and putting it in a vase. Because that's what we do with flowers, only obviously with plants not animals. "Wow! What's that?" "That's an arrangement of chihuahua penis and seal point siamese vulva, counterbalanced with a lovely setting of cockatoo fallopian tubes".

The thing about cats, that make them so evil is, they completely lack a sense of humour. If a cat shredded your bedspread, then pissed on your face while you were sleeping, that's evil. But if they laughed when they had finished, that's more devilish and twisted, which I can appreciate. You'd be like "You BASTARD!! Why would you do that?!", and while you would be angry as hell, you'd know you got "got", and would have to accept you're a punk, and that the cat rules.

Can you imagine a cat laughing though? That would be one fucking nightmarish sound, wouldn't it? And the look on its little face, with all those needle teeth exposed, eyes crinkled up and shit. Fuck that, that would be all kinds of wrong-town. Cats are fucked, basically.

Dogs, on the other hand, are so wonderful to have around, because even though they do shred your bedspread, and roll around in dead animal remains, and eat other dogs crap, and not come when you try to call them away from people eating their lunch in the park, they do it all with a big stupid grin on their face, that just says "I FUCKING LOVE LIFE!" And then if you yell at them, they look really sorry, like they're suddenly not enjoying life at all, which is what you want from something you're yelling at. Cats just look at you with a look that says "Tonight- I piss on your face, puny human".

1. "If you're having sex, and the dog walks past the door and sees you, is that wrong?"
2. "If you're having sex, and the dog walks into the room and watches you, is that wrong?"
3. "If you're having sex, and the dog walks right up close and looks at you, is that wrong?"
4. "If you're having sex, and the dog climbs up onto the bed with you, is that wrong?"
5. "If you're having sex, and a part of the dog touches you, is that wrong?"
6. "If you're having sex, and the dog lays down against you, is that wrong?"
7. "If you're having sex, and the dog lays down next to you and looks at you, is that wrong?"
8. "If you're having sex, and the dog licks your hand, is that wrong?"
9. "If you're having sex, and the dog licks your hand and looks you in the eye, is that wrong?"
10. "If you're having sex, and the dog licks your face, is that wrong?"
11. "If you're having sex, and the dog licks your face and doesn't stop, is that wrong?"
12. "If you're having sex, and the dog is licking your face, and he gets an erection, is that wrong?"
13. "If you're having sex, and the dog is licking your face, and he gets an erection, and you pat him, is that wrong?"
14. "If you're having sex, and the dog is licking your face, and he gets an erection, and you climax, is that wrong?"
15. "If you're having sex, and the dog is licking your face, and he gets an erection, and you both climax, is that wrong?"
16. "If you're having sex, and the dog is licking your face, and he gets an erection, and all three of you climax, is that wrong?"

If you climaxed while reading that, I think it's pretty safe to say that's wrong.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

The Law Gets in the Way.

2012-01-25T20:18:00.000+11:00

I like Plato.

Of all the philosophers, he's the best.

He was a handsome bastard, with one of those awesome ancient Greek 'short hair and long beard' combos they used to rock way back then in the B.C's. And sandals! But apart from that, he was just a regular guy, who helped to metaphorically lay the foundations of Western culture, which is the real reason you've probably heard of him.

Being an 'ancient' Greek, as opposed to a contemporary one, he had the interesting distinction of having a death date earlier than his birthdate. You try doing that nowadays! I read on Wikipedia that when Plato was an infant, bees settled on his lips, an augury of the sweetness of style in which he would discourse philosophy. I had a bird shit on my eye when I was a toddler, which I see as a foretoken of the gift I have for removing painful burdens from others, through the skill and truth of my observations. But this isn't about me. It's not about Plato either, which may be shocking to you, seeing as I've just been talking about him. No, like all matters of import, it is about a chance meeting in a bar. But we're not there yet.

My favourite work of Plato, is easily 'The Laws'. It's one of the few things I studied in my 8 years at University, that I actually paid any attention to (apart from, of course, the female student body). To cut a long discourse short, the meat and potatoes of the work concerns itself with virtue, that being the quality that all lawmakers should wish to instil, via the constitution of a city/State, into the extant citizenry. The problem with it, and the reason why Plato's fabled city of Magnesia doesn't exist today, is that philosophers tend to overlook the strenuous ethical contortions general humans have to achieve in order to fit into the framework. Think Olympics for houseplants, or 'Pimp my Ride' for your microwave...it's a bit beyond simply a stretch.

People just don't like acting well, unless it damn well suits them, which is why the law we have in Australia is so convenient (for the most part). As much as we don't like paying taxes, or not being allowed to murder the people who kick the backs of our seats in movie theatres and in aeroplanes, we do enjoy the protection those laws extend to us, when we don't feel like getting murdered or even just mildly threatened. As much as we obey the law, because we live in fear of the law (as opposed to the Platonic style of 'obeying the law, because we are educated and edified by it'), it gets the job done, which works for (the majority of) us.

It doesn't always work for me though, because people do kick the back of my seat at the movies or on flights. In fact, and I'm not sure why this is, but I can't remember a flight or a movie where someone didn't repeatedly kick the back of my seat! Luckily it isn't against the law to accidentally spill your drink over people, or if on a plane, to suddenly swing your chair into a reclining position, hitting them in the face with it, or spilling their own drink all over them. Drinks cost money, so this is very satisfying, like shooting an attacker with their own gun, which is clearly something else I do all the time. Just not on planes.

So now to the point of this story, which happens under the protection of the laws governing the wonderful island nation of Australia, late at night, in a bar somewhere in Melbourne. This particular bar is called the Jawa bar, not so much for the owners love of the films of George Lucas, but more after a kind of motorcycle manufactured in the former Czechoslovakia, before it became The Czech Republic, and a place you never want to catch a train, in that order.

I want you to imagine that you're in this place, there are people all around you, and whatever your sexual proclivity leans toward, within reasonable norms, your eyes are happy.

He's at your side all of a sudden, and you kick yourself internally for not seeing him in time to go the other way. He talks to you, engages you in a conversation you don't want, and his topics are so mind-numbingly boring you have moments of wondering if he actually knows, and this is how he gets his kicks. Annoyingly, he also has an in-built talent for standing directly in the way of the hot (insert gender here) you were making eyes at a moment earlier.

He's a nice guy though, and you don't want to offend him. So you try to listen, and feel terrible when you know he sees your eyes wandering, the desperation written all over your face, praying for an off-ramp. The stifled yawns, your eyes on everything but him. But he doesn't let up, and you are amazed to learn though experience that it's actually possible to be so bored you want to vomit. That's your body fighting the infection of his words. Your ear holes constrict, nasal passages revert to mono. eyes squint, trying to impede the flow of words to your cerebral cortex, to your amygdala, the part of you that's trying not to die from hopelessness.

If he doesn't realise what he's doing, when it's so obvious, then he's a ninja master of the old school, the kind that can kill you with his brain without trying. An assassin, albeit one who throws terms like "Dual quad core xeon processors" instead of throwing stars. An assassin, who can kill out in the open, bludgeoning you repeatedly, suffocating you by filling the air with words that, while permeable enough in small groups of under six, become smothering when installed professionally into full sentences.

Like a poisonous cloud of supermodels, like herding blobs of mercury. Absolutely aggravating, absolutely pointless. And you wonder what it is about you that makes him feel welcome? You're fully aware of your pained expression, you can't hide it, you've tried. And then, from out of the dense cloud of verbs and antonyms, comes a gap in the conversation.

You feel refreshed, you're in a rainforest clearing, the sky is above you, you are free! He stops to take a pull on his beer, both of you looking around the room, and not at each other. "Yep, yep..." He says to himself breathily, as if he too is bored by his conversational ninjitsu, and you finally feel like it's over. No one is saying anything, both of you just looking off into space. A respite. Mercy! Proof of the baby Jesus.

But no, it's not that. He's just warming up. Then the vines swirl around you, and you're lost under the dense canopy of his letters and punctuations, and a part of you dies, the part that had hope and loved life. And you hate him then. You imagine your hands around his stupid throat, choking him, while he fights to rasp even more words out. His eyes like a freshly landed trout, goggly, and conveying that "what the hell is this!?" feeling. A fantasy. A fantasy of control. Escapism from the real world, you and him in a bar, surrounded by a thick cloud of irrelevance, and he's got you going ga-ga, protected by Plato and his law, the law that says you can't strangle someone to death for being boring, regardless of how good they are at it.

So I had to settle for being lawful, and, rising from my bar stool, I walked away from him mid-sentence and out the door. I might have stayed in the bar if I felt he wouldn't have simply followed me and kept talking. But clearly his ability to empathize with others regarding the high tide mark of his boring-ness was damaged, to put it nicely.

I don't remember ever being so glad to be by myself after that moment...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

I still love Van Halen.

2011-12-15T01:06:00.000+11:00

...so I made this:

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Tonight, at six... We enter denial.

2011-12-07T23:07:00.004+11:00

One of the fundamentals of Martial Arts, is the stance.

In order to fight effectively, we must operate from a stable platform. This is obvious. This skill is learned through repetition, and trial and error, until it becomes an instant response.

We need to do this, because our 'Natural Default' when confronted by something that threatens us, is to fall backwards with both hands between us and it, eyes wide, loud shout to alert others. We don't necessarily want to be stable when attacked by something we don't understand, we want to flee. And so we put distance between us and it, and try to escape to work out our available options. To regroup.

These are two physical responses.

Our mental responses, however, are exactly the opposite.

The most stable reaction to a mentally confronting issue, is to assess all of the options available to us and determine a course of action. This, like a stance, requires learning. We grow better at this as we develop skills in critical thinking.Because of this, it is not our 'Natural Default'.

That would be denial.

When we throw up a wall of denial, it puts mental space between us and the threat. It buys us time to assess options, and because of this, it is only designed to be temporary.

In her 1969 book, On Death and Dying, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross created what we now know as 'The Kübler-Ross model'. This model outlines the 5 stages of mourning, when we are confronted with the loss of a loved one. It is to be noted that not everyone experiences all 5, and it is not a linear model. However it does break mourning down into 5 recognisable stages:

These are: Denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance.

Obviously, holding on to any of these states of mind (apart from eventual acceptance) is harmful to you, and denial is no different.

People who live in denial do so because of fear. They are trying to escape the shock of something. This leads to post-traumatic stress disorder and break-downs if left unchecked.

When we watch the television or read the broadsheets (which is what pleonasts call newspapers), the stream of bad news challenging what we believe we know about the world keeps us in a state of constant mental stress. For example when millions of people in the USA lost their homes when the banks foreclosed in the economic downturn, that is certainly shocking news. Or when AIG and Goldman-Sachs destroyed the American economy in the first place.

It has gotten to the stage where our collective denial is redeployed with every new news broadcast, as a means of coping with paradigm paralysis.

When confronted with a number of shocking facts, which all fall outside our view of the world as we thought it was, we choose the status quo- we make no decision.

We enter denial.

Paradigm paralysis is so named because its effect leaves us unable to see the paradigm, or pattern. And that is- what we have all been raised to believe, is a smokescreen for evil deeds.

We have all heard the phrase "the media lies". It has never been truer than now, but for the most saddening of reasons. Of course the established media empires have been shown time and time again to support financial and political agendas instead of reporting news without spin. Now they've fired the journalists and replaced them with gossip columnists and paparazzi.

But believe it or not, that isn't the problem...

The real problem is that it is so hard to find a workable alternative. If that were easy to find, who would care what the established media was saying? It would be the news equivalent of MTV- great production values, cool graphics, low edification versus the History or Discovery Channels (although, to be accurate, the content there isn't always reliable, either).

But it gets worse.

With the rise of Zeitgeist (much of which has since been debunked), people have looked to sources like Truth Theory, Real News 24, Infowars, Prison Planet, News Voice, etc... Well, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

I'm sure Peter Joseph, Alex Jones, and all the others involved started out wanting to help and spread awareness, but whether they understand it or not, they are exacerbating the problem.

While they would argue they are using the established media's own tactics against them, movies like Terror Storm, End Game, Police State 3: Total Enslavement, and Matrix of Evil are titled the same way tabloid news articles are. They are designed to prey on your fears, to make you hypervigilant, to leave you with Pre-Traumatic stress disorder.

Why manipulate content, spread disinformation, and promote terror? Simple- To be a hero. To make money. To serve their own need to feel important and relevant. And to give us a way to feel like that too.

Blaming shady organisations like The Bilderberg Group though, purposefully avoids suggesting solutions; opting instead to scare you into apathy, highlight your powerlessness, and to convince you to donate to keep the pipeline open. This is fire and brimstone, plain and simple.

And if there is truth in it, you will never know, because all of the subject matter takes place in secret meetings behind closed doors by people who deny affiliation with one another outside of meetings.

The most alluring thing about being into conspiracies is that those involved, regardless of social constraints like class, gender, ethnicity, level of education, or even maturity, feel as though they are part of the knowledge elite- the chosen few that have seen behind the secret curtain, and know things you don't know.

It is a form of elitist snobbery, except it is available to anyone

It makes them feel special, and in extreme cases (of which there are unfortunately many, and that number is rising), they display the same psychological behaviours, affectations, and protection mechanisms (see: denial) as religious extremists.

They effect a morally superior attitude, talk condescendingly to others not of ther faith, seldom offer evidence for their claims, instead opting for insults and over-use of the abbreviation "LOL" as a means to demean and infuriate those who make the mistake of attempting to engage them in logical debate.

Aside from all of that though, the biggest problem in disinformation for money. Last week this story crossed my desk. Claiming "The US Senate wants the entire USA to be a battleground", it is styled in the same manner as other 'truther' sites, automatically appealing to the alt.news enthusiast.

Problem is, the story is intentionally fake, and makes claims in quotes that are unsubstantiated at one end, and patently untrue at the other.

Again, why?

Click through ad revenue. The controversy it created resulted in tens of thousands of unique visits (to which I have just unfortunately added to!) From each visitor the site can offer nine click through ads on the first page alone, as well as an obligatory Pay Pal 'donate' button. If you fell for their bullshit, and wanted to hear their bullshit take on some other bullshit, you can read one of their other enlightening articles designed to do exactly the same thing.

"The US Constitution is gone", anyone?

If you attempt to click the author of the articles bio link, you are taken to the page of his click through for profit website, making any attempt to substantiate the validity of the claim that he has built a following of 800,000 people rather difficult.

But seeing as you are there, you can read all about how "Nth Korea may soon be able to strike USA with ultimate doomsday weapon...", and ad links from here to forever.

Alt.news is big business, people.

And it makes it more important than ever before to be critical of where your news is sourced from.

Who wrote it?

How do they know?

Where did they get it?

Why would someone else give it to them?

How are they still alive, if the power elite want this information secret?

Is their site full of sensationalist bullshit?

Do their credentials check out?

Is this news reported anywhere else, and if so, how do those sites stack up (are they part of a web ring?)

Most importantly, any news that does not facillitate an active comments section is not worth the pixels it's constructed from.

There are a lot of people in the world who are smarter than you, and comments sections of alt.news articles are a great place to hear their ideas and views, especially if you may not have thought of them yourself.

In some cases, they also provide well-sourced contradictory evidence, and in best-case scenarios, they can recommend good news sources.

The only way out of this mess is education about what is really happening now. Forget The Illuminati and The Bilderbergs, they are just distractions. Look at who is in Government, where they came from, what they advocate (all on public record).

Follow the money!

Maintain and develop your skills in critical thinking. But more than anything else, know this:

It's been 49 years since The Cuban Missile Crisis. Most of us grew up under a nuclear umbrella, with the threat of incredibly destructive weapons being aimed at us from birth, 'til death. But guess what?

We're still here.

The sun will come out tomorrow, that's a promise, and there are still a lot of great people in the world. Start at the bottom- locally. Smile at someone, be gentle. Don't engage in debate with crackpots. Take your money out of the bank and invest it in a credit union or community run scheme. Keep some cash in a safe too. Stop smoking right now. If you drink- be responsible. Buy less. Think more...about everything you do and why you do it. Don't make excuses. Get out of debt! Love somebody, even if they don't love you. Learn patience. Open up a little. Respect other people. Help the less fortunate. Learn how your society works, and most importantly, how it doesn't.. Form ten thousand opinions, then throw them all away in light of superior evidence to the contrary. Break free of your denials.

Repeat...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'..

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My other blog is big in Alaska!

A Familiar Earth.

2011-12-01T18:41:00.002+11:00

People are so strange.

I was reading an article containing colour photographs of London in World War 2, and was amazed at how the colour bought such an intense new feeling of familiarity to them. Instead of being black and white, old, disconnected pictures from another time, they suddenly transformed into scenes I recognised, streets I have walked down, a familiar Earth.

I am always more interested in the comments sections of news articles than the news itself, and while reading through I saw another familiar phenomenon- negative comments for true statements that people just plainly do not like.

Regardless of the truth value of a comment, if it reflects an unpopular opinion, or touches on a subject deemed taboo by the majority, if people can give it a negative vote, they most certainly will.

Here is the comment in question:

""Hitler only undertook the bombing of British civilian targets reluctantly three months after the RAF had commenced bombing German civilian targets. Hitler would have been willing at any time to stop the slaughter. Hitler was genuinely anxious to reach with Britain an agreement confining the action of aircraft to battle zones." - J.M Spaight., CB., CBE., Bombing Vindicated, p.47., Principal Secretary to the Air Ministry"

Every other comment, regardless of how little illumination it brought forth, had an average positive rating ratio of 50%, negative ratings, 0.

Isn't it interesting that in this case, the comment only had negative ratings?

It's not even an opinion, it is a quote, from the principal assistant secretary at the Air Ministry during the war. Click here for more information on J. M. Spaight.

Even though Hitler's crimes are well documented, it seems important to those who rated the quote that he only be remembered in the worst terms possible, even though Hitler's desire to not engage with Great Britain at all is also well documented.

"We won't hear a good word said of him".

The 1938 Time Magazine man of the year, who was a brilliant speaker, a great economist, a great strategist, a skilled propagandist, an environmentalist, animal rights advocate, and breast cancer campaigner, who believed in and pushed science and technology, cancer research (linking tobacco with cancer), infrastructure development, solar energy, jet propulsion, and who saved Germany from the brink of total financial collapse, can not have a good word said of him?

I'm not a fan of Hitler. On May 10, 1940, the Nazi's invaded my ancestral home of The Netherlands. Four days later they had killed 30,000 civilians in Rotterdam. 6 days after they arrived, they had beaten the country into submission by blitkrieg, and the Dutch were forced to surrender. My Opa (Grandfather) and his brothers all fought against the Nazi's in the war, he made The Gestapo's most wanted list.

But something I dislike even more is revisionist history, because if we paint people like Hitler to be thoroughly inhuman monsters, we will fail to see the signs in others that they may lead us down the same path (like Bush/Cheney).

George W. Bush, by all accounts, is a cool guy to have a drink with, he has a great sense of humour. He can fly a jet fighter. That makes him cooler than Tom Cruise. He is also the figurehead to Cheney's "foreign policy", which has brought war on an unprecedented scale to the Middle East, and has eroded the liberties of people all over the world, not just in the USA. It's important to know both sides of every story, or we simply end up ignorant.

That's the message.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Freedom of the Press.

2011-11-29T18:32:00.000+11:00

Just a quick one, I can't stay away lately!

I was reading the newspaper online (that's my first mistake, right there) about a gangland shooting in my old neighbourhood of Brunswick, here is a link.

In this piece, photographer Tim Carrafa photographed a witness to the crime, in what very much looks to be a situation where she is showing a policewoman an image/images taken on her digital camera. In short- she is giving evidence to the police.

This is a good thing. What's not good, is that Tim, in all of his wisdom, elected to publicly post a photograph clearly showing the womans face, and the fact she's giving evidence against men with guns who have no issue shooting people in broad daylight. The photo in no way launched the (sketchy at best) story over the line of greatness, it's just a hastily grabbed scene, from 'the scene'. And that being so, they could have printed the story without it.

Brunswick is an ethnic enclave, a lot of people who live there know a lot of the rest of the people that live there. This photograph marks the witness for death if she is known to the wrong person, and her identity should have been kept secure, for her own safety.

I think freedom of the press is incredibly important, and I think they should be free to run without censorship. Except in cases where they present a danger to members of the community. This is just common sense. If the witness disappears, it is a tragedy, both for the witness and their family, and also for the course of justice. Testimony from missing witnesses is inadmissible in Court.

So I'd like to ask publicly, what was the photographer thinking? If you Google yourself Tim, share your reasoning behind such a risky submission?

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

The Cult of Voting.

2011-11-28T03:39:00.007+11:00

If recent experience is anything to go by, this post should be the final nail in the coffin of my ever having a social life again. In trying to understand the motivations behind voting, I have been abused by people, insulted, accused of being deluded, and shouted down in person and on the internet.

If I was a guest on 'The O'Reilly Factor' on Fox, I would expect this kind of treatment, but to my surprise it generally came from the left direction, not the right. It is reminiscent of pro-Unionists being extremely quick to venomously brand anyone who would dare ask "Why join a union?" as a "Scab".

So what's the deal here? What's going on that is so offensive and morally reprehensible to the good people of the community?

I asked the question: "Why do people vote, when it seems to me to be a see-saw between 2 parties, neither of which offer real or lasting change?"

If you feel your blood pressure rising at this point, maybe you should hit 'Control W' now, and save yourself the drama.

It seems like a game, where people pin their hopes on the other side, after being disappointed and in some cases literally damaged by the behaviour of who they elected the last time. And when the new Government comes to power, they are affected negatively in different ways (if they're lucky).

Most people I know cheered when Obama came to power under a banner of change. But all that changed is the figurehead. America is broke, beholden to big business interests and banks, still at war in the Middle East, still no decent healthcare, education is still not up to standard, the same old problems.

New Zealand just had their election, and having lived there for a spell, I have grown quite fond of some of its inhabitants. So after reading Facebook posts and Tweets concerning friends voting behaviours, and witnessing their heartbreak when it was revealed the party they had pinned their hopes on (Labour) lost; and that the current (National) Government would remain in power, I wondered why they had bet that way at all?. (Click here for an interesting rundown of the NZ election).

Now I am sad on their behalf, because by all accounts (at least those from people that I trust), the Prime Minister John Key is as you would expect, a Grade-A liar. His victory speech promised more jobs, better wages, and less debt, which are the three things he has managed to do the complete opposite of in his first term as Prime Minister.

And so it occurred to me, as it has so many times before, that the system is broken. Because I distinctly remember whenever Labour was in power in the past, these same people would wring their hands and complain at how they ran the country as well. That's how Labour eventually lost voters to the current Government.

The current system offers you two major parties, and a bunch of others that don't have enough support to get in by themselves, but who often receive votes from people who want to stick it to the majors, or who are attracted to policies they offer (such as the Green Party in New Zealand and Australia).

As a quick aside- the Green Party in Australia has many policies I find admirable, but have climbed into bed with one of the major parties in a bid for more seats/power. They're meant to be the alternative to the majors, and I find it horrifying that they would ever consider breaching their morals in a quest for votes. Also, I work as an armed guard here in Australia quite a lot of the time, and as part of this I carry a semi-automatic handgun as part of my duties. The Greens have a policy that most people don't know about, where they seek to relieve me of this weapon, and only allow police to carry firearms on duty. Admirable idea, but the police were the ones who I needed to satisfy in order to become licensed to carry in the first place, so what's the difference? Also, when I am shot dead by an armed criminal who isn't at the mercy of Green Party legislation, what then? Am I meant to ask him if he would care to hug a tree with me instead? Just an example of a totally un-thought out policy that is guaranteed to result in the loss of lives of some good people who are trying to make an honest living, by a party many people consider to hold their best interests at heart.

You can vote for a minor party who won't get in, or you can vote for one of the majors, both of whom have a long and rich history of messing things up to bring us to the point we are at now. Again, what's the point of this? How will change unfold?

There is a very tasty quote doing the rounds, attributed to Einstein: "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

Is that not voting? Really...think about it.

And so the invective commences. The belittling attitudes, which I find so fascinating. Voters hold fast to certain unshakeable ideals (a lot like religious zealots), that are based on faith and belief, but fly in the face of evidence.

Let's look at a couple of those:

1. "The wheels of government grind slow, so by relieving yourself of voter responsibility what you achieve is to give more power to the powerful. Your tiny act of voting against the ruling class actually does count, your tiny act of not voting is a vote for the status quo. You could always vote Green - they got 10% and now count for something. In 3 years they might be the opposition. Slowly slowly."

Yes, extremely slowly. This way of thinking is what has entrenched the current system so deeply. Actually believing that the powers that be would ever allow themselves to be unseated by the filthy masses doesn't give our evil overlords the credit they have worked so hard for. And I'm not talking about the politicians themselves, because they are obviously the puppets. I'm talking about the (often foreign) vested interests who hide behind lobby groups, who will do anything they can to retain a Government (the Party is irrelevant, as long as they can be bought or swayed) that will cater to their desires, and in doing so allow them to amass even more of the accumulated wealth of the country, while the people who actually reside in that country face economic disaster and personal hardship.

This isn't a conspiracy theory. Even the press which is owned by Murdoch/News Limited publicly declares on a semi-regular basis the corruption inherent in Governments lying down with big business. Not to mention nations like Australia and New Zealand's obligations to countries like the USA and Britain, which send residents of the Pacific off to fight for countries on the other side of the world (and in the case of Iraq, without an honest reason to do so).

So "slowly slowly" is utterly useless in effecting change, it merely reinforces the illusion of control by voting, and to quote the author of the 'slowly slowly' approach: "...is a vote for the status quo." It doesn't matter who you vote for, you still get the Government.

2. "One has to pick a certain vision and leadership if they actually want to have a stake in what's going on around them. Otherwise you may as well sit back on your sofa and watch the world turn to shit. There are parts of the world where a free and fair election is an unheard of and very sacred privilege."

Is that so? Has the world not turned to shit already? Does voting actually offer you a stake in what's going on around you? How does it change who is pulling the strings behind the scenes? How does it disconnect their voice from your destiny, and return your country to you?

My favourite part of this argument is the 'Voting is a sacred privilege' part. Here's why:

Say I engage you in a game. I offer you two choices, neither of which benefit you. No matter the outcome of the game, nothing will have changed, only the illusion of change occurs. Why would you play it? And yet people do this. It's called gambling at the casino, borrowing money from a loan shark, or voting in your election. But people hold this 'sacred right' to them as if it was, well...sacred!

You have many rights in the Western World, rights that others in China for example do not have. But just because you are allowed to do something (especially when that something is participate in a staged and elaborate smokescreen to represent the illusion of control), doesn't mean it's sacred.

In Australia, there are laws that result in imprisonment if your letter box does not strictly conform to Government standards. I'm not kidding. In other parts of the world, people are free to use whatever they like as a letter box. Does that mean they have both a sacred right, and a societal obligation to ensure they exercise that right, when choosing a letterbox?

And by voting, you don't even get to choose your letterbox. You might get a different colour, but in the end it's given to you by exactly the same trans-global companies that gave you the last one.

Now for my favourite:

3. "People are on the streets in parts of the Middle East, often being shot and beaten because they want the opportunity to vote for their leader. As I said above, it is sacred. Every party in the end will have to lobby to business interests because that is an important part of how economies and politics work. No, you don't have to paint your letterbox, but that doesn't mean you can question why others would want to."

Actually, people in the Egypt are being beaten and shot because they are enraged by the fact that they voted for change, and instead swapped one corrupt power-hungry Government for another. Sound familiar? And suddenly, according to person #3, I am not allowed to question "why others would want to."

Not allowed? Does anyone else see the hypocrisy in stating that people in The Middle East are being unjustly treated because they are raising their voices and asking why their votes mean nothing, then informing me that I am not allowed to raise my voice and ask why my votes mean nothing?

So we have a situation, where voters believe so strongly that their votes mean something, that they take a smug "We're better than you", condescending approach to anyone who deviates from their mindset. And in my experience, people who act this way are closed off to other possibilities, thus the know-it-all attitude. People who are open actively seek debate or questions, because by answering those challenges to their point of view, they reinforce it with facts gleaned from closer examination.

Because you have the right to vote (Read: Take part in a meaningless charade that changes nothing), you only add to the situation by not voting. In essence, you become the bad guy. The scapegoat. It's YOUR fault the party we wanted didn't get in! When in reality, whether a person votes or doesn't, is irrelevant to the corporations that truly run your country for their own profit.

How many times have you heard people say things like "I've been Labour all my life but see Green as having the most progressive health policies with all of Labour's humanist approach to business and welfare. Now we have to make sure that the asset sales don't go ahead. Making money for an elite few while the rest of us suffer the consequences of rising energy costs, no thank you!"?

Sure, you could get your progressive health policies and humanist approach to business and welfare (if they keep their election promises), but you still get ASSET SALES? You'll need that welfare and those health policies, because if you have to pay for State owned assets you sold off to a corporation, so they can sell your own water back to you, you will be a great deal poorer than you are today. Here in Australia, we have to buy our own water. It falls from the sky. It belongs to all of us, it is a natural resource. But we still have to buy it back from someone else, because the Government (both major parties) allow it. They send us off to an illegal war in the Middle East, and make us buy our own natural resources. We pay for both. We shouldn't have paid for either.

4. You've got "...no right to complain if you don't vote. Pathetic apathetic morons."

Doesn't this sum up the mindset beautifully? If you don't take part in the rigged game of illusory benefit, then you are apathetic (what about conscientious objectors?), pathetic (there's your moral high ground, right there!) morons (Some more negative judgement, without at all trying to understand why some people would choose not to vote). But the sinister undercurrent to this view is the sudden removal of rights from non-voters by voters, or at least the declared intent.

"Because we vote, then we are the right, and we in the right hereby remove your right to complain." That's really something. It's as if you no longer retain citizenship, because you don't want to take part in a corrupt waste of time. And it is this viewpoint, this morally superior, closed off to any other option, resistant to questioning attitude, that is reflected in the way Governments treat their constituents. These people seem to be brainwashed. Led to believe that it is non voters that are at fault for the way their country is run, when it is voters who perpetuate the current model, and in turn reap the (lack of) rewards from it.

I know a few of you are sitting there saying "It's easy to tear down ideas, but have you got anything constructive to say?", and to you I say "Thank you for asking!

I don't advocate voting, it's ineffective. I don't advocate not voting either. That's ineffective as well. Playing the game/not playing the game is not the issue, we need to change the game itself.

The only way this can happen, is if enough people out there in the community realise they're pouring votes down the drain, and come together to form a new political party. This party should stand on one issue alone- to change the system of voting and governance, so that it represents the best issues of the people, and not corporations. Distribute the riches of the country between those that live there, just like Gaddafi did in Libya. This will mean Europe and the USA will no longer be allies, as they are run by corporations and banks, and see any nation that conducts its affairs to the benefit of its people as a threat to the stability of their own political setup. (Just like the USA did to Gaddafi in Libya).

Here is a downloadable .PDF of Gaddafi's 'Green Book'. If you have an interest in either how a society could be run for the people, or want to know the truth as to why Libya was really invaded, you owe it to yourself to read it.

It's a matter of public record that every time a new ruler came to power in Latin America, vowing to return the power to the people, and kick the oil/tobacco companies out, the CIA either destabilised the Government, or assassinated the President. The corporatocracy kills anything in its path, by any illegal means necessary, and we would fare no better.

But if you want a way out, that's it. The game has been unfolding for centuries, and rich families have thought well-ahead to secure their means of accumulating unspeakable wealth at the expense of everyone beneath them.

But even though we've been backed into a corner, and now it's too late to wrest the power back from the 1%, there is absolutely no need to act like a smug, arrogant know-it-all over the game of voting. It's your attitude that got us here, that pushed us so far back from change that now it's no longer available to us. It is your resistance to new information, to other perspectives, that cemented the roof over us. It is your hypocritical arguments that have indeed counted as a vote for the Status Quo- because you refused to participate intelligently in any discourse that would seek to change it.

So how about climbing down off your high horses, coming out from behind your illogical arguments, and join your fellow humans in trying to work out a game plan for survival? This Cult of Voting needs to be shattered- you enslave lesser minds to your rhetoric, and that to me, should be a crime.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

“If you are bored and disgusted by politics and don't bother to vote, you are in effect voting for the entrenched Establishments of the two major parties, who please rest assured are not dumb, and who are keenly aware that it is in their interests to keep you disgusted and bored and cynical and to give you every possible reason to stay at home doing one-hitters and watching MTV on primary day. By all means stay home if you want, but don't bullshit yourself that you're not voting. In reality, there is no such thing as not voting: you either vote by voting, or you vote by staying home and tacitly doubling the value of some Diehard's vote.”

― David Foster Wallace, Up, Simbal!: 7 Days on the Trail of an Anticandidate

Vs (From Wikipedia):

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Compulsory_voting#Arguments_against

Compulsory voting can be seen as infringing a basic freedom of the citizen. Some consider the fining of recalcitrant voters to be more oppressive still.

Some believe that voting is not a civic duty, but rather a civil right. While citizens may exercise their civil rights (free speech, marriage, etc.) they are not compelled to. Furthermore, compulsory voting may infringe other rights. For example, most Jehovah's Witnesses believe that they should not participate in political events. Forcing them to vote explicitly denies them their freedom of religious practice. In some countries with compulsory voting, Jehovah's Witnesses and others may be excused on these grounds. If however they are forced to go to the polling place, they can still use a blank or invalid vote.

Some do not support the idea of compulsory voting, particularly if they have no interest in politics or no knowledge of the candidates. Others may be well-informed, but have no preference for any particular candidate, and have no wish to give support to the incumbent political system. Such people may vote at random simply to fulfill legal requirements: the so called donkey-vote may account for 1-2% of votes in these systems, which may affect the electoral process. Similarly, citizens may vote with a complete absence of knowledge of any of the candidates, or deliberately skew their ballot to slow the polling process or disrupt the election.

Another group opposed to compulsory voting are principled nonvoters. They believe that the political process is inherently corrupt and violent, and prefer to minimize their personal involvement with it. If one adheres to Murray Rothbard's view of the state as a "gang of thieves writ large" then compulsory voting is a form of conscription into the largest mob with the biggest guns.

Supporters of voluntary voting assert that low voter participation in a voluntary election is not necessarily an expression of voter dissatisfaction or general political apathy. It may be simply an expression of the citizenry's political will, indicating satisfaction with the political establishment in an electorate.^{[citation needed]} Former Australian opposition leader, Mark Latham, urged Australians to hand in blank votes for the 2010 election. He stated the government should not force citizens to vote or threaten them with a fine.^[3]

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.

2011-10-30T02:25:00.002+11:00

I just wanted to stop in and say the reason I've been absent from my own blog for so long is because I've been furiously working on my first novel, and I'm half way there. (I have selected a cover photo)...kidding!

Over the last 8 years or so I have received so much support from the blogosphere, which has strengthened me and made me believe I could actually do this thing I never ever previously believed that I could. Some of you have remained anonymous, and some have become real life friends.

So hang in there and be patient with me, I would love to share this collection of words with you all, and to let you know how much every comment has buoyed me and given me the belief to unleash a framed narrative that's a lot like Chaucer's 'The Canterbury Tales', only if it was written by Douglas Coupland and the screenwriter for Bruce Willis' 'Die hard Trilogy'.

I have purposefully avoided all of the rules of novel writing- it has no clear prologue, middle, beginning, end, denouement, epilogue or anything else stucturally related, and my use of semicolons is wanton and disrespectful to the Blue Book of Grammar and Punctuation.

It will take you some places that exist here in the real world that you wouldn't otherwise get to see, and believe it or not, there is absolutely no sex.

But you still might like it, so check back every couple of months, because I'm doing this for you.

I will link to it from here- it will get a blog of it's own, and it will be free for all.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Regarding the 'Occupy Melbourne' Protests.

2011-10-22T19:49:00.002+11:00

Thankfully these protests have been gaining traction in the media of late, because the message is important, it affects most of us, and it is a good sign the media blackout and denial have lifted.

I agree with the message, that being, poor people shouldn't pay more tax than rich people, that Governmental representation should be equal for all people; not just those with money, that lobby groups that leverage lawmakers are funded by massive corporations, and that basically; most of everything is owned by a tiny minority, while the rest of us have to pay to live on planet Earth.

And we've all heard the argument- "They should spend more time working jobs than occupying the city". Sounds like a prima facie fair assessment, if it weren't for the fact that thousands and thousands of people in this country alone did work jobs, lost them when those jobs were farmed overseas to increase profit for the shareholders, and now have nothing to do but look for new jobs and protest about the unfair situation we're in.

With all that said, there is a right and wrong way of going about things.

In the link below you can watch a video of police moving protesters on:

http://www.news.com.au/top-stories/occupy-melbourne-riot-police-drag-protesters-from-city-square/story-e6frfkp9-1226172791776

This is their job, they were ordered to do it, and there is nothing wrong with moving protesters on when they have been formally informed that they have a time limit (which was generous in the first place), and that time limit has passed.

When you look at the footage, it shows standard operational tactics being employed, those tactics being correct usage of non aggressive body language (walking with arms clasped together at the front), moving the crowd back in a line and only using proportional force to the threat when necessary. If someone pushes back, it's assault, and they get dragged out of the line and cuffed. How much it hurts is entirely contingent upon their level of cooperation.

But I'm not writing this about the police, I want to talk about the protesters.

Who was the police liason for the protest group? Why didn't they brief the protesters in the correct way to act in a media based non violent action?

When the police move the line forward, you can clearly hear protesters screaming "Get your hands off me!", and generally screaming in general. No one was beating them. They were free to leave at any time, and if they put their hands up and broke the line, they would have been escorted away, not grabbed and dragged.

The point here is that screaming is not conducive to non violent protest. Non violent protest involves singing non confrontational and peaceful songs, linking arms, sitting down, staying calm, and above all- having someone in charge who at all times stands with and communicated with the police officer tasked with liason with the protesters.

If they really wanted to stay, they shouldn't scream at police and on camera, they should lock themselves to something with thumb cuffs (available from any sex shop) or a bicycle lock, and make their point that way.

Before you accuse me of being an armchair critic, I should point out that in the late '90s I was the nonviolent action coordinator for The Wilderness Society, North Queensland Conservation Council, The Sydney Environmental Defenders Office, and many other groups, leading peaceful and successful demonstrations all over Australia. My job was to brief all protestors in what is and isn't acceptable in a non violent action campaign, and to ensure those orders were carried out, or I would personally hand over any non compliant protesters to the police liason officer myself. I also shared my knowledge in lecture tours of all major Australian Universities.

If you want to have a protest or demonstration, the eyes of the world are on you more than ever. The media plays the biggest part in all of this now, and if you manage your protest effectively, you reach the eyes and ears of the REAL 99%.

If you mess it up acting like screaming victims of police brutality that isn't happening, the people on the other side of the TV screen write your cause off as anarchist bullshit, and you have lost the people you need to further build the momentum of your movement.

Downtown occupation isn't the point. It's only phase one. It's an emotional leaflet drop.

You need to reach the people at home. They need to sympathise with you and your cause (and this won't happen when everyone is wearing kaftans and dreadlocks, sorry). And when they sympathise, letters get written to politicians, massive boycotts are organised against offending companies, criminal proceedings are handed out to guilty politicians and bankers, and then you get the system you want.

It's a long drawn-out process, and you don't get two chances to get Mr and Mrs suburbia involved. Don't write them off as sheep, they are your target audience.

Appeal to them, and get them on board.

In the meantime, stop with the histrionics and disorganised campaigning, and work out how to get your message across positively utilising all forms of media.

Round 1: You've failed.

I'd quickly like to link to a blog that offers a differing perspective even though I don't agree with their thoughts on police tactics. I'm tired, so I won't go point-by-point, but if the author at a later stage wants to have a meaningful debate on it, I'd be happy to.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Tuesday Night Fight Club.

2011-08-23T00:34:00.002+10:00

I was at the Chapel Street/Dandenong Road tram stop about 9 pm, when a drunk asshole started to pick a fight with me. I was exceedingly aware of the beer bottle in his hand, ready to deliver a punch to the throat with one hand and a block/takedown with the other.

"How old are you?' I asked.

"EIGHTEEN!" He spat back, his breath smelled terrible. "Why?! How old are YOU?", he challenged.

"Forty", I wearily replied.

"How do you look so good then?", he asked...suddenly quiet and respectful.

His de-escalation tactics were excellent.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

The Coolidge Effect.

2011-08-21T23:32:00.001+10:00

Former US president Calvin Coolidge and his wife visited a poultry farm. During the tour, Mrs Coolidge noticed roosters mating frequently and inquired how often that happened. The farmer proudly explained that his roosters performed their duty dozens of times each day.

''Perhaps you could point that out to Mr Coolidge,'' replied the first lady.

On being told, the president asked the farmer, ''Does each rooster service the same hen each time?''

''No'', replied the farmer, ''there are many hens for each rooster.''

''Perhaps you could point that out to Mrs Coolidge,'' replied the president.

I love that story.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

A Socioeconomic Fairytale.

2011-08-04T03:33:00.005+10:00

There's something so dark in us, that sucks out the light.

It's our nature, it's what we're for.

But if we're for something, of course that implies a designer. What designer would make us so we fear monsters, and hunt them all down, 'til all the mythical creatures of this world are consigned to history, in dusty pages somewhere below the high tide line of what matters now?

To the point where, we're forced to make our own?

This world, these lands, have become a monster factory. The more civilised we become, the farther apart we drift from one another, even though there are honestly at least three people sleeping directly above, below, and to the right side of me as I write...

...I don't know them.

I'm close enough to read their thoughts. To hear their restless sleep. Their lonely sex noises. But I don't know their names.

And so we detach, care less, focus inward; in the false belief it offers security from the uncertain, when all that is certain, is death and taxes. And the only way to detach from the latter, is to attach to the former. The antecedent always dictates the consequent.

And as we detach, we kill little lights inside, until vast areas of dark encompass our interior architecture, filling our brittle frames with nothingness.

Like a satellite picture of the Earth with all the lights out. It's beautiful because it's abnormal.

But darkness has always been a haven for dark thoughts, black is a magnetic colour. And evil is the ferrite- hysteresis not anthropomorphism.

So the dark thoughts come- maggots of fear, loneliness, anger, jealousy, flies of arrogance, pride, worms of greed, hatred, apathy crows, leeches of revenge, and pythons of suicide. They all hang off the ribs, or wedge between dirt coloured organs, and in some cases swim through the carotid artery into the very mind itself.

They congregate, and begin to talk amongst themselves, and your mind hears this and believes the sound as its own thoughts. Like a devil on your shoulder.

Like a devil in your shoulder.

And slowly but surely, we become monsters.

You can see them blinking in the daylight, some covered in rags, some covered in jewels, and every conceivable arrangement of forms in between.

Arrogant and grotesque, or timid and malformed, or furious and mutated, they grow. "Lost in the sound of separation".

And without consciously thinking, they perpetrate the acts upon one another. Because the evil has taken root, and has grown, and now it has them.

The acts that take the light away from another, that attempt to drag that other into the gutter we now inhabit. The gutter between humans and beasts, built by civilisation. Fighting over scraps.

One must always dominate the other, and those most evil possess the requisite qualities to accomplish the work, of turning out the lights in us all.

In this story, the monsters rule.

And the good people meet with one another and strategize, ways to strengthen the walls, to enforce the civilisation, to keep out the monsters. And the towers they build of money keep collapsing, and the fear they'll lose those towers make them fearful, and one by one their lights go out, and so the devils speak to them.

And the monsters wait outside the walls, until those inside succumb to the inevitable infection, and their noises reflect delight. A dirty, foetid, evil delight; not the delight of children or baby animals.

'Til the lights go out...

'Til we all fall down.

And we all.

Fall.

Down.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Knifey is currently processing...

2011-07-22T00:02:00.002+10:00

Cue dreaded rainbow wheel/old style hourglass icon/screen freeze.

At the moment it's:

"Life: Put food in, shit food out. Wait for death. How's that, Nietzsche/Kierkegaard?"

I'm told this is not the optimal setting for a psyche, so I'm trying to work out something better.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Standing in the way of control.

2011-06-29T02:49:00.006+10:00

I learned a long time ago that we can't control anything.

Control is an illusory mindset some of us rely on to help us to feel like the world isn't a massive, random event generator, with no more interest in us winning than an ant doing so. Which of course, is exactly what it is.

In Zen, they say "Be like water", in that water eventually gets to where it's going- nothing can stop it...if it/you is/are patient. I think it was Einstein who defined insanity as doing things the same way but expecting different results. Water doesn't do things the same way, it flows along the path of least resistance. It doesn't set out to change it's surroundings, but in doing what it does naturally, it effects everything.

So if something isn't working we need to change it up, try something new. And just like a car that continually lets you down, or an organ that fails, sometimes we need to take that part out and put in a new one.

We need to do this with people also. Friends so often drift away on a different path, and so without saying goodbye, we watch them fade over time until they live in memories, or the occasional awkward chance meeting in a supermarket late at night.

And sometimes we have to be more active- and enforce that distance. I know a guy that has been jailed for multiple cases of statutory rape/threatening to kill/general sick behaviour... he's dreaming if he thinks I'll ever make time for a chat. I stopped talking to him before he hit the news, because I could feel something was wrong there. Instinct is very powerful when you don't dilute it with insecurity and jealousy.

So there's the word- jealousy.

Jealousy is the high water mark of a persons desire to control another, based on fear (what isn't, actually?), and never appropriate.

In the Western world, we all live in a society controlled by fear. Fear of the ruling class losing their stranglehold on ALL OF THE MONEY. Fear of the consumers losing ALL OF THEIR MONEY. Fear of the lower classes of HAVING NO MONEY.

The answer to that problem is clear- get rid of money, and invest our time and energy into a different system that benefits everyone, instead of a select few hoarding away everything for...no real logical reason.

And when a person is jealous beyond a certain point (because we should always try and help each other through hard times when we can), it's time to cut them out as well.

If a person can't be around you without having to control you, then that interaction is clearly not healthy. It's no longer an interaction. It's an infection.

And if they continually manipulate you, and make you feel like you're always doing something wrong (based solely on their inability to trust), then it's simply time to walk away.

Another thing I learned a long time ago through personal experience is that those who are most jealous, are the most dishonest. And while they are terrified of you leaving them for someone else (even if you have no intention of doing so), they will be cultivating multiple exit strategies, nurturing flirtations, ready to man the lifeboats if things don't go their way; so they won't have to be alone, or deal with what they have done. They forget you quickly, love turns to hate, they're on the next ride, thinking foolishly they have left their problems behind.

I know this, because I used to be the most jealous and possessive guy in the world. And I find it embarrassing to admit, because it really is low behaviour, shows such a lack of evolution. But then, I did a lot of that back then.

And now that I have the perspective, I can see that my jealous pressure on my partners virtually guaranteed they would cheat on me, or break up and find someone better, because they couldn't breathe in the space we shared. Makes sense- if you push hard enough, the other person will eventually move away from you.

My Mother used to say- "Leave a space for them to grow into". Isn't that something? Leave your partner space inside of you? One of the most beautiful thoughts I've ever come across.

And so I learned to relax. It looks easy when I write it like that, but it isn't. It's like any addiction, and it took years and years of painful soul searching and hard changes to get out of that hole, and back to the surface.

But I climbed out of that, and into reality, and saw just how far I had fallen, how much it hurt. Not just me, but everyone. And it became obvious that my Mum was right, and so was my old Master from Gungfu- "The greatest in control, is achieved with the open hand".

If you squeeze something too hard, it'll slip from between your fingers.

So I decided I didn't want to squeeze any more. I decided I didn't want to control someone into liking me, but I did want to enjoy the reward when someone did so, all on their own.

And I found the more I exercised those muscles, the easier it became to simply not care. To enjoy relationships, without having to control them. And definitely to base my desire to be with someone on who they are, not on how much I can change them to suit my own wants.

So I don't want to mince words here- jealousy is a disease. It will cause you infinite misery, and absolutely torture those who try to love you. It will turn you into a person no-one wants to be, and just because it mostly happens in private, doesn't make it any more acceptable.

Jealousy alters your perception of reality. It interferes with your natural intuition, and infects it, to the point where you either see things that aren't there, or read into things that pose no threat to you whatsoever. It makes you crazy. Who wants that?

This feeling also makes you feel justified in doing things that are unacceptable within a relationship- checking up on your partner, undue suspicion, invasion of private email or facebook accounts, these are all self-justified through the feeling of corrupted intuition.

You feel like you have a right to do something wrong, based on faith that what you think is correct. No offence, but that's what The Crusaders, The Nazis, The Spanish Inquisition, and Al Qaeda all did too.

I straight-up ripped this next section right off a website all about this stuff, because I might be highly enlightened, but I'm still a total badass, so here it is:

Signs you suffer from jealousy.

Questioning your partner's activities and whereabouts, but not in a friendly way. Any couple in love is going to want to know what each other is up to, that's normal. What we're talking about here, is questioning with suspicion and doubt--and usually not believing the answer.

Worrying and fantasizing about what your partner might be doing or saying with another person. This can become "crazy making" for the jealous person, where they can't stop the obsessive thoughts.

This usually involves assuming the worst of your partner. In other words, the jealous person does not give their partner the benefit of the doubt...they assume the worst, and convince themselves it's true. Because of this, another symptom of jealousy would be witholding love, not smiling or laughing or being friendly with your partner.

And finally, you know you're jealous if you're checking your partner's email, text messages, phone logs and receipts--or questioning mutual friends/acquaintances on your partner's whereabouts / social media activity.

What you can do.

You need your self esteem to be strong to be healthy in any relationship. So, with your high self esteem intact, you say to yourself, "Well, I'm good. If s/he is dishonest and unfaithful enough to act like that, it's their problem. I will stay focused on being happy and having a good life. If their love for me is true, they'll come around. If not, then we'll see what happens. I'm not going to let the feelings of jealousy and suspicion take over my mind and steal my joy. Most importantly, it is important to not concentrate on fear of abandonment, as your high self esteem will reassure you that you need not be alone."

A healthy person has a full and fulfilling life, and a lot of resources to turn to if their partner is being unfaithful or disloyal or just irresponsible. So, when the signs of jealousy start showing up, they would perhaps get more involved in things that feel good and fulfilling.

What about anger? Well, of course, anybody's going to feel angry if their partner is acting badly--but a healthy person has healthy anger. That would mean that yes, you would talk about your feelings with your partner, but in a healthy way. These communication skills for couples will give you a step by step way of working through tough feelings without getting into major conflict.

Face it, we're all scared. We're all imperfect. But some damage is avoidable in our lives, and I'm living proof that a person who used to be off-the-rails crazy with jealousy can move on to become a person who never spares a thought for it, and most definitely doesn't inflict it onto my partners.

Normally this blog is for either my writing, or for shooting the shit/ranting/whatever grabs me at the time. But I want to open it up to you if you have feelings like those I've just talked about.

Contact me though here if you need a friend or some support, remain anonymous if you like, and I will tell you the truth about where you're at and what you can do that will result in your maximum happiness.

On a personal note, I don't have a lot of love in my own life at the moment, and I know that the best cure for feeling that way is to send out love to others. So whether you're a guy or a girl, no matter what walk of life you're from, or where you're going; if you need a friend to be real with you, and help you out of the hole you're in, I'm right here.

No one deserves to put themselves through emotional pain for fear of being alone. The good news is, the sooner you can work out the damage, the less the likelihood of you being alone is.

You can do it, you just have to want to.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

The Power of Advertising (To lose customers).

2011-06-26T13:57:00.006+10:00

I'll leave the cute storytelling aside for today, I just want to rant about something quickly.

Isn't this CUTE?! What a great idea! And that sofa looks so comfortable!

"Yes", "No", and "So what?"

I call this 'Piranha Advertising', and it works like this: You get a team of creatives together to conceptualise your new campaign. These people are very clever, and think to a brief for a living.

"So what sucks about tram stops the most?" "Oh- I hate those hard seats they have in there." "Let's put a sofa in there!" "YES! And the sofa can reflect the comfort and security you will feeling dealing with ING direct!" "Oh yeah, we're gonna win an award for this for sure!" "Let's make sure the sofa is the right shade of orange to tie in with ING's corporate identity." "Yeah, and let's bolt that fucker down so poor people can't steal it".

See how clever they are?

Not very-. In a town the size of Melbourne, complete strangers aren't likely to feel comfortable sharing a 2-seater sofa with a complete stranger first thing in the morning while on their way to work. And I'm sure everyone else who is missing out on sitting down will be wondering why Yarra Trams let an unrelated corporate entity rip out the much more accomodating seating that was there, so Yarra Trams could make more money, but their customers just get inconvenienced. A lot like those full tram ads that cover all the windows, so tourists who want to take photos can't. Again, because Yarra Trams have sold the window space to a corporate entity. But wait- I thought WE paid for a seat with a view, when we purchased a tram ticket? Who's "fare evading" now?

I call it piranha advertising for one reason. While retaining the services of creatives, and coming up with clever campaigns that grab your attention, and spending thousands and thousands of dollars to decorate a tram stop might be no big deal to ING, all it does to people who think is, it jumps up and bites them in the ass.

Because if they can spend all that money on nothing much, on just a simple ad, where does that money come from?

YOU.

And if they can waste all that money of yours on a campaign, that suggests that they have a great deal of (your) money to throw around on expensive ad campaigns. And if they have a lot of money for that, it means they have a lot of YOUR money for that.

So what?

It means they're charging you too much. It means the profits they derive from the service they provide, are inflated to the point they can pretty much throw them around on zany ideas that could have been even more effectively carried out and much cheaper, had they used better creatives (ie: a simple video aimed at maximum virality).

ING are saying "Look at how much money we have, therefore how successful we are", when really it means "Look how much we're ripping you off."

It's not accepted generally to sell the same thing twice, to two different buyers. If you buy a house with a view, then the realtor sells the windows to a billboard company, someone is paying a big fine.

But when you buy a tram ticket, and if you're one of the first 4 people to arrive at a stop, you should expect to be able to sit down, and you should expect to see clearly out of the tram windows. How are you meant to see your stop sometimes, when the windows are covered in ads, and it's after dark?

These things shouldn't be sold, because we have already paid for them- with our tickets. Let's not get into how Yarra Trams spends hundreds of thousands of dollars a year with ads demonising fare evaders as they call them. Again, Piranha advertising! They can afford to blow that much money on ads telling people what we all already know, then they're MAKING TOO MUCH MONEY ALREADY.

Ultimately, these ads have the reverse affect for their creators, as public sentiment slowly rises, to the point where people hate the corporation, have no sympathy for the corporation, actively seek to do business with anyone else but that corporation.

They're spending money to make people go some place else.

Looks like the clever creatives at Saatchi and Saatchi or wherever else didn't think of that...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

The shortest story.

2011-06-25T16:51:00.003+10:00

The little girl began to cry when her Father began to use the shovel. "Daddy- you're making a hole in the world!"

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

The Photographer.

2011-06-24T00:54:00.003+10:00

I met an old man at a tram stop last week, Friday, my last day of work.

I got electrocuted, it was their fault.

The old man and I sat on the aluminium seat at opposite ends, I didn't think we'd speak until we did. He mentioned something about the frequency of trams, not in an acoustic sense, but in an "I hope I get to work on time" sense.

I did, in case you were wondering.

The conversation went to politics, as it often does with old men, and I asked him what his trade was, what he did for work.

He said he was a photographer.

I've always admired photographers. I learned the rules in design school, but never connected to them. My breath is always taken by good cinematography, I think they have magic eyes. And photographers too, how they see frames hanging in the air where we just see the ocean, the sky, a tree in front of it.

Even those Real Estate liars who make small damp houses look like Caribbean Hotels, they've got the eye, they just use it for evil. Printing money with their retinas, swapping promise for currency, termites wait on the periphery.

And so I respected this old man, he was one of the few- a visionary, a recorder of history. I listened to his words, and balanced them out carefully. And I found they allied themselves with my own, which silently pleased me.

And so he asked me, "Would you like to see one?", and I said "Sure."

And he told me to close my eyes, which seemed odd for a photograph, but maybe he was part-showman as well. Maybe he relished the big reveal, like those people in home makeover programmes do, or TV shows about previously fat people.

So I closed my eyes, and I left the grey Melbourne morning, and entered the warm, padded darkness of the inside of my skull. Blood pulsed around me in its tunnels. His voice spoke, and it said:

"There is sand in his boots, under the straps of his helmet. His eyes are glassy with tears he can't show, and all he wants is to hold her again."

And then "Would you like another?"

"Yes", I thought I really would.

"The soft blossoms are lit from behind by the blue sky, glowing pink like a freshly rinsed newborn. Their fragile faces wave to the breeze."

And I basked in it...the gentle spring, warmed by the sun, cooled by a soft wave of air sporadically, I'd never heard birdsong in a photograph before.

I turned to ask what he meant by all this, but when I opened my eyes he was gone.

And in his place was a photograph, of me, eyes closed, smiling in a tram stop in the rain.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Rising sadness.

2011-06-05T11:55:00.003+10:00

Now is not the time to pour myself into this keyboard...I have to work soon, and work is filled with responsibility. I'm responsible for the lives and safety of two-hundred and fifty human souls. I can't cry there.

I made a typo. "I have to work son". Then I corrected it. I wonder if I will ever say those words in real life, to a child that needs me? I don't believe that I will.

Oh.

I avoid mirrors. I can't stop time from advancing, and other peoples assertion that that advance is significant has taken root in me. Am I really less valuable now, just because more time has passed?

And I thought of an old friend, and reached out. This friend is wise, wise and crazy. My friend seems so carefree, taken by the wind, and floating above the world, yet so wise from all they have witnessed. Smiling, but watchful. Making a joke, while analysing the horizon.

We used to be inseparable, but the time was wrong, and we both had other directions to grow in. Now we have totally different lives, in different countries, with different people. But I still love my friend.

And I think about how few friends I really have, how rare the friendships that I maintain. How no-one knows me any more, the me in here.

My friend wrote back, first time in years, and highlighted all of the parts of them that had changed, until it looked like my friend was coloured in bright yellow. I left it too long. I was scared they might not care.

I have to be honest. And when someone says that it shows you that being honest is not something they normally do. So you caught me out right there. But my feeling is that as much as I hide the real me, the one that only comes out when I break down, I have to admit there is so much I can't love in here.

I ride a machine, and I say ride, because I'm sure as hell not driving. And it takes me to places I feel like I have no choice in going. And I can't work out how to short circuit this machine, this body. So it will do what I need, not what it wants.

I look around, everyone has machines of their own. But some of them steer them, slow them down, speed them up. And I can't work it out. I'm in here.

So this isolation, that I reinforce by absence, that I defend vigorously. It defeats me. I defeat me.

Because I called my heart this morning. And it told me all it wants, is to be missed.

Tears fell out, the pain made noises, I breathed like I was feeling pleasure.

So while my friend floats above the world, I feel like I'm even further away, watching the whole thing on TV.

My fear, my prison.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Just a thought...part Two.

2011-06-02T21:32:00.004+10:00

Oh please oh please oh please...can I serve you some more, you ungrateful bastards?

*People often rush up to me on the street and beg me to solve their lifes problems.

I'm a **famous blogger. My name, is 'knifey'.

Recently, instead of staying up all night researching topics, and feeling tired and trigger happy when I go to work the next day, I decided to do a series of thoughts... things that occur to me when I should be doing other things, and note them here. Maybe they can grow up to be big blogs in future, or maybe just something to think about.

I was ruminating on the feminist movement, and all of the finger pointing that has often accompanied it. Of course men get blamed a lot, and that's because they did it.

But in just the same way as women allowed themselves to be dominated over by a patriarchal husband-figure (to a degree) by convention and societal expectations of the time, so too, were men playing a part.

As wrong as it is, if you grow up with a nigger breaking his back in the paddock for your parents, not only are you probably going to think "Well, that's the way it is", but also wonder where you're going to get a nigger of your own when you buy a farm as well. I use that word on purpose, because if you're shocked by it, you're on the right path.

So in the case of the 1950's nuclear family, I think that men were just trying to be men in the main, obeying their parents conventions, societies expectation, and womens desire to be loved by men. But also, religions demand for maintenance of the status quo. Religion used to play a much larger role in society and family than it does today- even families that didn't really believe in the whole God thing would go to Church on a Sunday, because it was expected.

Men grew up with a woman in the kitchen, so why would it occur to them to change that? Change wasn't big in the 50's. And I know it causes outrage to think that Dad comes home after work, and gets served by a woman who spent all day cleaning the house, looking after the children, and trying to keep her makeup perfect; but in the minds of men, they were paying the mortgage, car payments, and putting food on the table, so why not? Besides, Mum did it too.

Clueless idiots? Sure! Evil overlords? Maybe not so much...

So apart from the higher-ups that thought up the systems the rest of society lived by, I think mens main crime was a crime of ignorance.

I know as much as it was frowned upon to divorce back then, men also suffered their whole lives under societies expectation... trapped in marriages they maybe never wanted in the first place. Society says: "Think of the children" (which religion says it is your job to create, and to do so within wedlock, and blah blah blah...)

So I put it to you that men were controlled too, and while I in no way seek to belittle the suffrage movement or feminism, I think there is a dimension there that is worthy of consideration.

Just a thought...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

*Not true.
**I wish.

Just a thought...Part One.

2011-06-02T21:05:00.004+10:00

The reason we don't have the supertech future all of us (boys) dreamed of, is because the superrich build everything on the cheap with low quality materials and cheap imported labour, and leave the rest of us with nothing, except iPads that we bought ourselves, as a colourful distraction to the fact that not only don't we have amazing spaceports and personal jetcopters; the world is turning into a trash heap that they'll all leave us on to die.

Am I mad about it? Not really- the superrich are pretty goddamned smart, don't you think? They may be heartless, but they really can see a concept through!

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Why women will never be good enough...

2011-05-31T17:14:00.013+10:00

...for themselves.

If you've been here before- welcome back! If you haven't, here's a quick synopsis of me: I've been around the world one too many times, seen the high life and the gutter, struggled with depression, self loathing, and occasionally liking myself; and along the way I've fucked an inordinate amount of attractive women.

I say that to say this- every one of them, whether a professional model or a regular everyday hot girl from around the corner, felt the way they looked was somehow lacking. Not to me, but internally...in their own experience of being them.

They were confused by this, and sometimes angry. And quite a lot of the time, they would blame men. Men want big tits, or long hair, or...whatever it is that they thought men wanted. I won't delve into the effect porn can have on womens self-esteem here, that's for another night.

And it upset them to think they could never compete with all the images they were inundated with every day. Billboards, TV shows, and...well, the trashy magazines they would bring home against my advice and their better judgement..

The trashy magazines that women put together for other women. No need to name names (all of them do it). The ones that don't make you feel better when you read them, but much, much worse. The ones that contradict themselves within the same paragraph, the ones that titillate with insider scoops on celebrities (always from "a close friend" or "source", never from an actual person that exists and can be held accountable). These magazines are paid for by advertising dollars, and it's cosmetic companies and the rag trade that foot the bill. It's not 'men' and the expectations thereof that hold womens self-esteem to ransom, it's the free market economy, loopholes in consumer protection laws, and a total lack of education as to what those loopholes are, and how to see through them.

We know, and have known for years, that these business interests will lie to the maximum extent allowable by law to sell you some snake oil. But what hit me the other evening was the fact that most women have no idea the extent they are being lied to.

I ran into my ex girlfriend, who was visibly upset. And after a little gentle questioning it became apparent that this young woman, who is so popular she has several fan clubs, each with membership running into the thousands; this woman who is so beautiful most of my male friends have either commented on it or gone coy when she walks by; this incredible force of positive energy and unique natural beauty, was in deep emotional pain, because she felt she simply doesn't measure up to what she perceived to be the yardstick for physical attractiveness.

Somehow not attractive?

She feels the weight of celebrity, of public expectation, of competition with the Kardashians of this world, or celebrity girlfriends, or movie stars. And she has fear that because she sees herself the way she does, the public at large won't support her quest to be the singer she has always dreamed of being.

I tried to explain that the features she despises about herself (because they don't fit the stereotypical norm of what feminine beauty is) are what attracted me before I had the chance to talk and get to know her, and that those looks have far from held her back so far, but it didn't help. I tried to explain that there are many beauties within beauty, and that in the Venn diagram of attractiveness, hers was a valid set with a very large intersection. Still no luck, and I thought chicks dig maths?

Then I remembered something I saw on YouTube years ago, and I looked it up. It was a short video made by Dove (who sell snake oil using a more realistic model roster), showing how photoshop transforms the sometimes average into stunning beauty. I did a design degree once upon a time, and I clearly remember the tricks I learned, and the methods employed by every beauty editor on planet Earth.

I also remember another ex girlfriend (aren't I a winner!?), who shared pictures from her modelling portfolio with me, that she had done for a swimwear company. I can't link to the pictures because she does not in any way like me, and because those images are the intellectual property of people who aren't you or me. In these pictures, the model was stretched and elongated to lengths unattainable without a computer or a medieval torture device, the crazy fact being, this girl was already so tall and thin every time we went out in public, women would ask her if she was a model. She didn't need improving, she was already at the top of the ladder. But they took that body, and turned it into something even a pro model could never attain.

My ex was shocked and amazed, and I wished I thought of the YouTube fix first.

The reason she was so down is because she was fixated on attaining a standard that simply doesn't exist. Now I'm not saying there aren't naturally attractive women (or girls usually) that are about as perfect as you can get (according to the current concept of what's hot nowadays), but they are rare. So rare. And because they are, there's no need to be upset if you don't look like that, because it is actually a statistical aberration, and an actual physical mutation that left them looking so skinny, clear skinned, wide-eyed, and whatever else is in right now.

But print media and movies and whoever else make out like it isn't rare, and that everybody famous looks that way.

They don't. They really don't. Katy Perry is cute in real life. But she does not look like her publicity shots or videos. She is actually a human being from the same planet we're on right now.

*Cue blown minds.

And I couldn't believe my ex didn't know already, the extent images are massaged and manipulated. Doesn't everyone? Apparently not. I thought the fact that we could CGI big hairy monsters that look real into movies now, or make Brad Pitt age in reverse, that people would just cotton on the the fact it's all done in computers.

So I have embedded a bunch of videos at the end of this post, and you can see just how magical the spells can be. Some are better than others, but the top 2 are required viewing.

Remember when MySpace came out? Remember the 'Myspace angle'? This photographic technique swept social media like an STD on crack, and the general idea of it was so (let's be honest) overweight and lonely girls could get attention on te interwebz.

...this was the photographic equivalent of bios on dating sites, that regularly report users to be more active and attractive than they really are. Just like the MP3 freed music for mass storage and easy transfer, Photoshop/Myspace angles made everyday people look a lot more glamorous than they really were, and put the tools of the fashion editor/ad guru in the hands of the hoi polloi.

It had another interesting effect: It showed how much people lie because they hate themselves. It showed how many lonely people out there wanted to play the game too. In an age when your next door neighbour can become a reality TV superstar, and you wonder why it couldn't be you, people feel for the first time like they have a right to be a celebrity. So the kids all became media whores/masters of manipulation, and a fat girl in Alaska with no friends suddenly had 500,000 guys in California all wanting to bang her, requesting her ASL on MSN.

There were/are so many miserable people who just want to belong, and to be thought of as attractive. So they used the tools of oppression employed by big media, and instead of emancipating themselves, dug themselves a hole they can never climb out of (before they graduate fat camp).

So there's the fence with 2 sides- those that have an agenda and manipulate the tools, and those that have no idea just how pervasive the tools are.

All I can say is (for some reason there are a lot of people that listen to me on here, and take my zany advice), in the words of Jessie J, "Just be proud of who you are...", or, in the words of Xzibit "We all different types of meat, but we all smothered in the same sauce." Maybe that last quote wasn't really appropriate. What I'm trying to say is, take it easy on yourself, and if someone loves you, don't continually wish you could be somebody else. If you want to 'improve' yourself/get fit/learn Spanish/Zumba/whatevz, go ahead.

But I bet there is something beautiful within every single one of you. And if there isn't?

It's never too late to start...

This one is in German, but don't let that put you off...watch to the end!

Here's some Danzig- just because...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Unshakeable faith.

2011-05-29T12:00:00.008+10:00

A lot of the time I talk about me on here, and sometimes I talk about "them" (whoever they may be, dependent entirely on the subject matter at hand).

Today I want to talk about you, and by that, I mean I'd like to open a can of worms or two, and see if you're willing to challenge yourselves, to examine your inner workings, and to update yourself- throw away useless old thought processes or behaviours that serve to hold you back from self enlightenment. By this I simply mean, knowing your mind and why it does what it does, as opposed to the religious or New Age method hinted at by the term "enlightenment".

If anything, I'd like to cut down the bodhi tree, and let the sun of pure reason illuminate this subject.

I want your thoughts, responses, arguments (either below in my comments section, or to my email. Try and base your responses on reason not emotion. Emotion is very strong but it is also the navigation method favoured by small children and manipulative adults, so I'd like to keep it logical.

Some people have what they may call a very "strong" stance on certain issues. Issues like abortion, religion, things like that. And oftentimes, we look at those people and think "Wow- they must really know what they're talking about, they seem to have all the answers." Other people view them as smug, brainless, self-satisfied pleons that will avoid an actual argument that may challenge their belief structure at all costs. And by "actual", I mean logical.

The problem with saying "I'm conservative!" or "I'm liberal!" is that you've chosen a side before you've heard the argument.

Political parties are modeled on 'where they stand on the issues', so voters can quickly identify which party generally represents their views on a blanket of issues. Or so other voters can give up voting, because they realise the futility.

So if we're talking about abortion for instance, there are several different places you can stand. Let's make abortion our political issue for now, and take a look at what the different teams have to say about it. Afterwards, let's take a look at what logic tells us, and see what happens then.

Pro life- rights of the unborn child.

When there is talk of ending the life of an unborn child, emotions run extremely high, and rightly so. It is natural (one would hope) to protect the innocent, and so this often conservative view is exploited by right-wing and Church groups as a powerful political tool.

A typical argument is that (as they believe life begins at conception) aborting a foetus is exactly the same morally as murdering a baby who has been born, or infanticide (which is obviously a crime).

This provokes powerful images in the mind of the reader, and successfully galvanises opinion quite strongly one way or the other.

Normally I'm all for Church-bashing to be honest, but I'd like to point out what I think is a rare and wonderful statement from the United States Senator for Massachusets, John Kerry:

"I don't like abortion. I believe life does begin at conception. But I can't take my Catholic belief, my article of faith, and legislate it on a Protestant or a Jew or an atheist...who doesn't share it. We have separation of church and state in the United States of America."

This statement sent right-wingers in the U.S. into a frenzy, inviting responses saying it "...is like saying you wouldn't ever drown your own children in a bathtub, but have no problem with other people doing it", (which is simply bad logic). The correct assertion would be to say it is like saying you wouldn't ever do something harmful but legal to a child, but if it was a religious custom of others to do this harmful but legal thing; due to the constitutional separation of Church and state, and also due to the fact that the law currently allows for this thing to be done, you are legally and constitutionally powerless to inflict your morals onto that group of people. Example: circumcision in the Jewish community.

Emotionally navigated people will be quick to point out the level of damage to a person between having their foreskin removed without anaesthetic is trivial compared to the level of damage experienced by a person who undergoes a procedure designed to kill them, and they'd be right. But we're not measuring levels of damage here, we're constructing logical arguments based on facts. Just because the facts don't match your argument isn't the facts fault.

Standing up for the law of the land, against his own religious moral compass is an act I wholeheartedly applaud, as it is a logical, not a moral one.

Pro choice- Rights of the Mother.

I feel that this is a bit of a misnomer, because this topic travels farther than simply a Mothers rights, but also the rights of the family, the community, and the child itself. But to keep it neat, we'll stick to the Mother for now.

If a woman finds herself pregnant, she no doubt is confronted with many thoughts and feelings regarding the quality of her life from that point on. Some celebrate the news, some dread it, and some vacillate from one to another.

In the same way Church groups wield Pro-life arguments as a flag for morality, left-wing/liberal groups use this one. Again, it seems fairly obvious to a liberal person that a woman should be allowed to choose whether or not to see a baby through to term when she has been raped. This is a scenario most of us would give anything to avoid, and most of us would deem it in very poor taste to attempt to make a person in this situation commit to a course of action we decide for them.

So leftists feel justified in saying "It's a womans choice, and we have no say in it". But what happens when we give the example of a girl with a lot of money and very questionable morals, who makes an active decision to not use birth control on an ongoing basis, and to instead rely on abortion procedures 4 times a year instead?

Statistics indicate that while rare, this happens. In this instance, the Mother has utilized her legal right to choose. Few, even among the left would applaud her decision making faculties. Should abortion be legal under such circumstances? Or should it be legal the first time, and after that you had better have an amazing excuse? Or obvious habitual 'offenders' could have their right to abort revoked?

OK, so most of us already know where we stand on this issue. We generally magnetically bond to one argument or another, according to our already-present system of morals and ethics. Sometimes we can be swayed, for example when a hard core Conservative sees the pain and fear in his unemployed and terminally ill daughters face, when her sexual partners condom broke, and decides his morals aren't worth the pain of his daughter, who has no chance of being a good Mother.

Now let's consider an an amazing statistic, revealed through regressive analysis by the modern champion of contemporary economics, Steven Levitt... Levitt uncovered an amazing and previously unexplored reason for why crime in certain areas of The United States dropped so markedly (as much as 50%) since the early 1990's.

The media (groan!) was running with the officially endorsed reasons: Greater gun control, more police on the streets, etc. But the reason crime dropped so markedly, was actually due to a landmark controversial decision by the United States Supreme Court on the issue of abortion in 1973.

It was called Roe v. Wade.

Put simply, "...the women most likely to seek abortion- poor, single, black or teenage mothers, were the very women whose children, if born, have been shown most likely to become criminals. But since those children weren't born, crime began to decrease during the years they would have entered their criminal prime. Unwantedness leads to high crime; abortion leads to less unwantedness; abortion leads to less crime." (Stephen J.Dubner- New York Times Magazine).

So now, instead of looking at the issue from one perspective or the other, we now have a new contender for our attention and measured response.

Back in 1786, when I first undertook undergraduate studies in Philosophy, we encountered in a tutorial the perennial problem that all tutors love to tease their students with, regarding 'the maximum good'. This problem is simple to explore (but harder to resolve), and sorts the sheep (idealists, morally unshakeable, and religious types) from the goats (logical thinkers/philosophers). Because the course was one in philosophy, I took the second position, and was held in utter contempt by the rest of the class for the duration of our shared education together.

A man enters your room with a gun, and says you have one choice. 1. He will shoot you in the leg, or 2. He will shoot you in the head. Choose one. For the purposes of the exercise, we won't delve into whether you also have a gun, if the police are on their way, or if you are an expert in Krav Maga and have little trouble relieving bad people of their weapons.

Who said 1? All of you? Unless you are suicidal, this is normal. It ensures the maximum good for you. The benefit is clear. Now that we understand the premise of the game, let's play on...

You are a vegetarian. A man corners you and convinces you that if you don't eat a piece of cooked bacon, he will detonate a bomb killing thousands. This too is a no-brainer. You may have very strong ethical reasons for protecting the lives of animals, but this animal is already dead and processed, your consumption of it won't provide a demand for more meat, and you can save thousands of lives by eating it. The maximum good clearly lies in eating the damn bacon.

Here's where it gets hairy: A man with a gun tells you to shoot two of your friends dead, or he will kill a random baby. That's two lives against one. Two lives you interact with and appreciate, versus one you don't know, that has hardly begun. But you have to shoot them, which is hard. He can easily kill the baby. The maximum good dictates he kill the baby. But that's abhorrent, isn't it?

What if you merely have to choose who he kills? What if you don't have to watch? What if it's the baby versus one of your friends? What if it was one of your friends, versus a future baby that is yours? What if it was one baby you didn't know versus another baby you didn't know? What if it was you versus the baby? As you can see, it gets harder.

In the example given to my class, it was 10 people or a baby, and you had to do the killing. I shot the baby, so you're probably not talking to me now either. But the maximum good dictates the baby has to die, because it comes down to the pain of ten families versus one.

In reality, none of this matters, because situations like these rarely happen (philosophers don't run around armed conducting heartless experiments like that), and because I have completed every level of Krav Maga training short of instructor.

So why all these examples? Because instead of looking at the argument from a Pro-life versus Pro-choice perspective, we can look at it with the help of our new tool- the maximum good.

If a woman wants an abortion because she can't support, or feels she wouldn't love a baby enough, it is no longer her versus morality. It is her, backed up by the fact that statistically, her baby could go on to live a life of crime, hurt or kill people, end up in jail, or die anyway after what amounts to a miserable life; versus 'morality'. An interesting observation is that those toughest on the liberties and lives of criminals, and those that advocate the death penalty the loudest, are conservatives who have fought to ensure that criminal was born and not aborted in the first place.

Of course not every baby from a poor, black, unemployed, drug affected teen mother goes on to be a bad egg. But statistically, the chances are greater.

Through all of this, I'm not attempting to get you to change your position on abortion, but I would like it if you simply thought about what it is you base your beliefs on, and make sure they are consistent with what you may choose if you look at the problem through the eyes of the maximum good, or from statistical analysis. Note that I didn't state where my opinion lies, so I can't be accused of trying to win votes for my argument.

Unshakeable faith is the inabilty to see reason, or to respond to evidence. Kinda like not believing in pancakes, even though they're right there for you to experience. When I put it like that, doesn't it sound crazy to not think about why we think the things we do? I hope you agree, and embark on a journey to discover what your thoughts actually are, how you came by them, and if they really are the best fit for you.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Does anyone else smell that?

2011-05-28T00:00:00.005+10:00

I feel like I just walked into a room, and everyone is so blissfully unaware of something obvious, the proverbial white elephant, stamping around upsetting the mantel and the vaisselle dór collection. Or maybe it's a hip hop party, and there's a live band in the corner who are all nazis.

All the colour has drained out of the scene, the TV broadcast has gone backward in time, and we're all a flickering shadow, grey noise our collective efforts.

I heard years ago, a story about a Native American tribe who would kill you if you breathed in the smell of your dinner in appreciation, as they believed the nutrients of the food lay in the aroma. Maybe I got that wrong, the only Native person I know isn't very truthful, so there's no point asking her.

I hate to be the one to quote Bauhaus here, but is this what Peter Murphy was singing about in 'Exquisite Corpse', back in 1982?:

"Terry sat up and hugged the army surplus bag around his skinny waist. It was cold and the person beside him had faded badly. Legs apart his eyes lit up- the sky's gone out." People think those lyrics are about a dying soldier, and they are. But they're also about a person swimming in a dream, a dream that is life.

And now that I think about it, the poem Cliff Burton wrote, that Metallica made into the song 'To Live is to Die'- "These are the pale deaths, that men miscall their lives."

We're lying.

We've been given lives, but who among us know what to do with them?

Make money? Follow some creative passion that is ultimately unoriginal and contributes nothing of value to society? Live for others, which contributes much, but may just support attitudes and lifestyles that are undeserving of such altruism? Follow a deity? Turn inward and find oneself?

What does any of that do?

And more importantly, why should it have to?

I can't answer the fundamental question that all religions claim to answer- "How should I live?"

I don't know the point of life, I'm not sure there is one except to create more life. And that's ok. But I figure if we're gonna be conscious for a period of time, slung between the two great moments of darkness, shouldn't we try and add colour to this thing?

Plato derided the artists in his 'Republic', as it was a meritocracy, and to his purely logical mind, you can't eat art. But therein lies the danger of thinking with logic unbalanced by passion... because the city of logic is a cold stone one- utilitarian, soulless.

I think art is the point of all this life.

But that is a problem too.

When the tools are accessible to all, the standard goes down. Anyone can pick up a hammer, but the resultant house wouldn't impress anyone, without talent.

The internet (or: the archive of collective human output) is awash with horrible attempts at doing things the do-er could have saved a lot of wasted effort not doing...this blog itself may be a contender.

I don't think it's wrong to try, I think it's wrong not to try.

But I'm allowed to lament the lack of colour, in this rasterized grey mass we call culture. And once in a while a bright pixel appears, and oftentimes it is pounced upon by all of the starving appreciators of such things and consumed to death or overload.

But more often than not, an obscenely average thing dumps itself in the spotlight, thrown there by the power of soulless money (and the pursuit of more), and it wobbles and shakes and pretends to shock (when we've seen it all before, and in the case of Lady GaGa, three previous generations thereof), and the style gurus quite often get caught up in the hype thinking this thing represents culture.

Oh, sadness.

And we have trillions of colours of megawatt grey, washing over our desire for cool water, in a tsunami of toilet discharge. And as usual, the sheep act like it's the second coming. You know the great religions of the world have failed when an Italian girl from New York channeling Madonna, Warhol, and Marilyn Manson captures a larger and more frenetic fanbase than Christ, Gautama, and Mohammed put together.

People adore being manipulated, true?

Don't panic- it's just marketing...

And yes, I know that by blogging about her it just puts another few drops in the fuel tank of the hype machine, I'm aware. And I don't mean to pick on her in particular, it's just so convenient that she encapsulates everything that is wrong with music now. Right with business, wrong with music.

Who would have paid attention if she looked like Susan Boyle?

Everything is starting to blend together- all the culture is become diluted in the shitstream. And what do we expect, when the only way to sell that culture is to collab, to exchange links, guest spot? As much as I appreciate culture jamming, now that it is so prevalent, even the old masters have had a workover, condemning them to share in this amazing coagulation of...you know.

And like I said, it's wrong not to try- so I don't blame the artists. I don't blame GaGa, thanks for your efforts. In and of themselves, they're generally pretty catchy and harmless.

It's the consumers that settle for it, that I take umbrage with. Am I being too Platonian? Music is meant to be about feeling, right? So again, a purely logical overview isn't going to capture the experience. But does the experience have to be that watered-down? We understand tweens love Bieber. That's normal. We make allowances for their unsophisticated attempts at digesting culture.

But adults?

I'm well aware the critics of the time shitcanned The Beatles too, but let's be honest, they were writing the rule book for the lame excuse for music we 'enjoy' today. They didn't start writing actual songs til much later in their respective careers. In the beginning, it was 'Love me do', and love me do was utter shit.

Songwriters know there is a recipe for hits. And the good ones write to it. It's changing now, thankfully, as the reign of radio and MTV has ended, much like it changed before radio began to dictate how long a song should be, or MTV refused to play you if you were ugly. The internet has set us free.

Limitless distribution Vs. An all time high water mark of output vying for attention. And the standard has never been lower.

There are still great and talented musicians, writers, artists, you name it out there. They're the rare and bright pixels I mentioned earlier.

They're a blip on the radar...

But I'm waiting for the next thing.

The thing that hasn't been co-opted by marketing geniuses yet. The one that the early adopters haven't caught wind of yet. I'm not talking about Mexican pointy boots, this thing hasn't been invented.

It won't have accompanying dance moves, it won't collaborate with anyone, it will sue any TV or radio station that attempts to show it in the news. It won't trawl for subscribers, or annoy you with a 'Join my group' request online. It won't kiss Britney at the Grammys, Natalie Portman won't get the part in the biopic of the creator. There won't be one. You won't store it on the cloud, it won't come in a bottle. It will defy categorisation the same way a 12th dimension would now, and it will be free for everyone.

But for now we've got...planking. Again, a re-hash. Everyone who thinks they're doing something new and exciting should Google flagpole sitting in the 1920's. Planking's just lazy. And before you try to tell me I just don't get it, and that it's making a statement, we're all grown up enough to know it isn't. It's like extreme sleeping.

Graffiti, Weird makeup, flash mobs, baggy clothing, all had earlier incarnations between now and World War One (Apologies if you're reading this on facebook, as it won't include the links), as the Book of Ecclesiastes 1:9 so sagely put it:

"What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun."

Are we doomed to endless repeats and interpretations?

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Nothing hits harder than life.

2011-05-27T23:30:00.001+10:00

Bruce Lee was an incredible fighter...but my dick's bigger.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Forever Jung.

2011-05-25T23:01:00.002+10:00

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.


Carl Jung

Fear & Loathing- Slovakia Edition.

2011-03-15T00:52:00.009+11:00

We were on the road, just like Kerouac had intended. Except, instead of America, this was Eastern Europe.

We had places we needed to be, we were a band, people were expecting us. But every now and then we had a night or a string of days free to photograph the architecture, or hunt for werewolves, whichever grabbed us at the time.

Last night we were in Prague, no werewolves there (we checked), but there were a lot of stunning European prostitues working in Praha 3. The bass player fell head over heels in ~~love~~ lust with a stunning 6 foot Belarussan girl called Elizaveta, who wasn't a day over 15. He fantasized about rescuing her from a life of white slave trading, and we had to physically pull him into the taxi for the airport. The irony that he wanted to rescue her from that life after paying 1000 Crowns to sodomise her was utterly lost on him, and for that reason, we'll be sticking to first names only.

Ruzyne-Prague Airport is quite modern, and boasts a few business halls, where you can go to shower, read the paper, torture someone to death, or whatever inspires you in your moment. We were waiting in one of them for our ride, Hryhori. He was a diplomats son from the Ukraine, and a bitter disappointment to his exceedingly straight-laced Father, who paid him immense sums of money and extended a private jet and European-wide limousine service just to keep him out of Kiev. So Hryhori lived a life of luxury, cold pimping his way across the globe, and showing off to bands from the West. To impress us, he Anglicised his name (which means "vigilant") to 'Greg'. In his mind, that sounded glamorous. (No offence to all you Gregs out there!)

We cultivated personalities like these back in our touring days, because the last thing you want to do is to have to spend your own money, when there are obscenely rich playboy types around who take it as a personal affront should you not allow them to pay instead. It's called "economics". He was an insufferable asshole, but to his credit he bore a stunning resemblance to this guy.

I was looking out the window, waiting. And I was thinking about all the other times I'd sat in an airport, and looked out the window. It's not to much that I don't dig people watching, more I think that it's a subconscious deal, like if my eyes are out on the runway, then my body should soon follow?

I don't know.

When Greg rolled in he had his usual entourage. I had never seen any of them before, but the stereotypes were all in place. He always had them, maybe on some kind of revolving roster or something. 2 models of Russian extraction- check. 2 heavy set men in suits and dark glasses who always looked nervous when we start fighting with each other over trivial things- check. Weird younger male friend who looks like a nerd but dresses in Armani- check. And of course- us.

We all ascended the stairs to Greg's private jet, and before you knew it, we were in Slovakia.

The bass player forgot all about Elizaveta on the flight, as he, the drummer, and the singer became very close friends with the models. Very, very close. Greg didn't care, because he was gay, and that explains to you 1) Why his old-money Euro Father was so anti him, and 2) Why Greg always had a young male friend around. So he could suck his cock.

So now we're clear.

I love private jets. It's bad and wrong, I know, so terribly wasteful and bourgeois. But those things are so often the most fun. That's why *Wallpaper magazine is still going strong after more than a decade. People love the high life.

Our mission was to stop in to Slovakia to check out a place called Spiš Castle. It was whispered back then that there existed a group of enterprising young Germans, who offered those in the know access to an intensely private party. This party cost U.S. $20,000, and once inside, you could do whatever you liked, to whoever was there. The only rule was- never disturb/interfere with/assault another guest. This party took place in a renovated section of the Castle, and was stocked one day every six weeks with high class escorts, drugs, live animals, and the best food and wine available to the elite.

To cut a long story short- Greg knew these Germans, and when we eventually checked it out, it was total bullshit. Sure, there was a sex party, with free hookers, drugs, and whatever else; but it wasn't at all 'as advertised'.

So here's what happened instead:

We landed at Poprad-Tatry Airport, and agreed to hit the town of Poprad for some food in my case, and (more) sex with the models for the other guys. While they found a hotel to hose down with semen, I found a great little eatery that delivered high quality Eastern European goulash, and had Pepsi not Coke. They may as well have put a bed in the corner and charged me rent, because I felt right at home. After a few hours, the drummer called, and we all followed him onto a tram (the Tatranská elektrická železnica), which he said would take us right to the Castle.

Obviously it didn't.

We ended up on a mountain range called the High Tatras instead. You may think us terribly negligent to have travelled so far unaware, but if you check out these pictures, you can see how close the town is to the mountains:

The drummer was adamant we were on track (why anyone would build a Castle on top of a mountain range is beyond me, but whatever...), so we disembarked at a resort, and got treated to a wonderful assortment of suspicious stares because let's face it, we all looked dodgy as hell.

At one stage the drummer asked someone for the directions, and that bastard had an amazing sense of humour, because he pretended to understand English, and pointed off down the ridgeline.

It was getting dark, and there were definitely werewolves here.

After clambering around and freezing our collective asses off, the drummer had to admit we were lost, and none of us knew how to get back to the resort. Greg and his boyfriend didn't even seem to notice, they were all cute with each other like they were embarking on the first few pas assemblé's and plié's of a new love ballet. The guys in the band all wanted to appear masculine and in-charge as if the models were doing anything other than playing with them out of sheer boredom, and the bodyguards to my mind were definitely questioning the logic of continuing to work for this client at this point. Albeit in Russian, but questioning nonetheless.

I don't know if you've ever been lost in a high mountain range with music people/models/the elite, but if you have, you'll know that instead of trying to find shelter or food, your first priority is to ascertain who has drugs, and to share them around. We call it "triage".

The fatter of the 2 bodyguards produced 2 bottles of prescription pills at Greg's bequest, and we all necked them first, and wondered what they were for later. I told the drummer to make us a snowcave, and because 1) He's the idiot that basically convinced us he knew what he was doing in the first place, and 2) He obviously didn't know what he was doing, so he could do the grunt work and stop us all from dying.

He started digging into the side of a bank of snow with a tree branch and his hands, we all squashed in, and waited for morning.

Problem was, the drugs were bad. I felt a horrible panic, and gestured for the bottle- Heart medicine.

The models and Greg's boyfriend were throwing up soon enough. The bass player ran outside and his ass exploded, one of the bodyguards wasn't far behind. I was farting like a racehorse. Greg complained of a toothache, the other guitarist was in the middle of a sneezing fit, and his face turned into a bright red rash. I felt a tightness in my chest, and couldn't move my legs.

What the fuck kind of medicine does that?!

But the worst symptom was the one we all shared- dread.

Dread is a word that is said a lot but not understood, a bit like "devastated". Dread is a feeling, namely, that you are going to die. Soon. And it's all you can think about. We all spoke about that feeling, with Greg translating it into cohesion. We were all convinced death was coming for us.

I could hear howling outside. I knew there 'd be werewolves here.

Some party, right?

After about 4 hours, everyone had passed out, and by passed out, I mean, they were literally unconscious. Not sleeping- knocked the fuck out.

Maybe my misspent youth and the cocktail of drugs my doctors kept me on as a kid loaned me some measure of immunity. But despite the lack of diarrhoea or rashes, that dread made me pay in other ways. I was drenched in sweat, shaking, and waiting for the reaper. As far as I was concerned, I wouldn't live to see morning. And then, through the hole that served as a door to our shelter, came this:

A European grey wolf pushed his massive head in among us, sniffing each person from the doorway, until we were face to face. He sniffed, and I could feel the heat coming off him.

Then he was gone, just like that.

I went outside, and there were 8 more, all silently climbing the mountain in effortless bounds, each of them were longer than I am tall (6'2"). Massive creatures, breathtaking to witness. The biggest dogs in the world.

Werewolves!

An hour later the sun was up. One of the bodyguards got everyone up and out, and feeling very sorry for ourselves, we followed the wolf trail up until we saw the resort.

That night we played a show in a huge club in Romania, it felt like a million years later...

...there are vampires in Romania.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Rape your idols.

2010-12-03T04:50:00.005+11:00

I just saw Australia's video submission for the FIFA World Cup, designed to influence them into giving us the pleasure of hosting the World Cup (Read: Pay them millions in bribes, so whichever city that hosts it can become congested with sports fans from overseas to the extent that the people who actually live in the city no longer get to use it/get to work on time (See: Olympics/G20 Summits, etc...))

Did I mention our (failed) bid to host the Cup in 2020 cost us 45 million dollars?

Clearly, I'm not a fan...45 million dollars to prop up a tourism industry and a bunch of vendors who sell shit merchandise and public transport/taxi operators. Why not just hand them the 45 million directly?

But this isn't about that.

In the video, it shows an animated Kangaroo being chased all over Australia by a motorcyclist in black, who ends up being Paul Hogan (Who the A.T.O. recently gave up trying to prosecute because in Court you can bet his lawyers would have demanded A.T.O. show where in the constitution of Australia it is shown to be anything other than criminal to demand income tax from citizens, for use by the Central Bank that is privately owned, and exists to make a profit from the people, not for it). Paul Hogan (one of the faces of Australia) was threatened with imprisonment by this Government, but here he is appearing in a video with The Prime Minister! The same Prime Minister who's Government publicly tried to rape Hogan (responsible for more tourism than any sporting fixture in this country) for something like 95 million dollars? What gives?

But here I am sounding like a conspiracy theorist...

In one section of the video, there is a clearing near Uluru (or Ayers Rock if you hate black people), a clear space of red dirt, in which children from many ethnic backgrounds are playing soccer (there is even a Muslim girl- how excellently topical!)

And it reminded me of the "I call Australia home" commercials by Qantas, who would have you believe we're all one big happy family, and that they care about us, until you need a seat on an aeroplane with room to accomodate your feet or legs, or an airline that doesn't hate people with musical instruments.

Basically, it is the notion of Australia that they drag out for special occasions- for opening ceremonies, and video submissions to the IOC, or cheesy commercials that lie to you.

I have looked all over the real Australia for that fairytale Australia, and guess what? I have never found it.

Sure, when you're swimming in the Mossman Gorge in North Queensland, and little crabs are nibbling at your toes, you could swear you catch a flash of it. Until a family of Ed Hardy shirt wearing bogans roll up and destroy it in a heartbeat.

You see it on posters at airports and in Hotels, but it's 2D, you can't go stand in it.

Melbourne is multicultural and (apart from drunken white people), pretty safe. But it doesn't look like that fantasy of Australia that Ansett tried to sell you before they crashed and Air New Zealand/Virgin Blue cannibalised the remains.

Yes we have the reef (overdeveloped) and the beaches (increasingly polluted). Yes we have sports teams (big fucking woop), and even the occasional rock band here and there (Wolfmother...um...well, they're shit. Sorry).

But this notion of Australia that never was is just a pastiche of Jungian archetypes for people with money...a flashy way to kid you into thinking you're getting swindled for something.

It's like a rapist putting on some nice cologne first.

It's their way of saying "Hey stupid- look at the pretty pictures!" "Here's why you got a Southern Cross tattoo!" "Look, we're all one big happy community...except we own you, and you're our slaves!"

Great stuff.

Isn't that just propaganda?

Isn't that what we all feared about the Communist Bloc when we were in High School?

Are you sick of being lied to yet?

Or are you saying "Jeez, relax! It's just a video mate!"

I'm sure if you drink enough VB, and listen to enough John Butler Experience at a music festival, and your mates are all laughing, and the ute is full of slabs, and there's some slutty little minx from the Western Suburbs giving you the eye; then it all must feel pretty close.

But it's not.

Underneath the 55" colour High Def (possibly 3D) colours and shapes of your life, people are making sure that they end up with this country and everything in it. While you're distracted by the Top 40, they're writing laws that mean music is being crimininalised in the cities in favour of high rise apartments.
While you're reading the newspapers, the real stories that matter are being rushed by you as fast as possible, so that you don't get a chance to actually have a say in them.
While you're watching that video, and digging the colours and the personalities, and subconsciously believing everything is going to be good and right, and the sun is shining...bad people are taking any hope of that Australia ever coming in to being from you. We could have it, but we won't.

Because all the money that is put into flashy propaganda is put into it to make more money, and to give you something fun to watch while that money leaves your sphere of influence for ever.

And that's ok in a way, because money and the economy as it is don't matter and don't work for us. The real problem is, once the economy falls over, and the Government bails out all the banks, and everybody runs back to their own country, we won't have a country.

All our land will be owned by other people, often from other countries, to feed their own people, or simply "just for shits and giggles".

We won't be able to produce our own food any more.

We'll have lost our houses, because the voracious economy swallows everything. We've seen this.

Our police and even our armed forces will be tasked with keeping the peace, which means keeping all of us poor/hungry people away from the rich people. We'll be unwelcome in our own places of birth.

But hey, enjoy the video (I linked it in the first paragraph), ride the dream for a little while.

And when you're finished tripping out over how crazy I sound, look at some other countries right now, and how they're doing, and who's bailing them out, and who in turn owns those countries for all intents and purposes.

Follow the money, kids...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Falling on your own sword.

2010-11-22T12:55:00.007+11:00

Video here.

There is a lot of international debate lately about banning burqas/hijabs, mainly for the reason that those who wear them are essentially disguised, in a society that doesn't really go for people walking around in disguises (for security reasons).

Of course, some Muslims see this as discrimination (although you're not allowed to claim discrimination when banned from holding hands with your wife in public in Dubai), because it is convenient to shift the blame to the country you're in, as opposed to your own personal conduct within the culture of that country.

The funny thing is, in the news at the moment, there exists the story of a 46 year old Muslim woman from Sydney (Carnita Matthews), who has been jailed for making a false complaint.

"The mother of seven was stopped in June by a police officer at Woodbine for a random breath test. She later filed a police complaint alleging the officer who pulled her over had tried to pull off her hijab, which concealed her entire face except for her eyes.

The court was told that after being issued an infringement notice for not properly displaying her P-plates, the 46-year-old branded the officer "a racist" and claimed he only booked her because of what she was wearing.

"You look at me and see me wearing this and you couldn't handle it. All cops are racist.""

OK, great. After this, she went to a police station and made a (false) complaint. "However, the court was told that an officer who three days later accepted a statutory declaration from a burqa-clad woman he assumed to be Ms Matthews failed to check her identification.

Ms Matthews' lawyer, Stephen Hopper, said there was no way for police to prove that his client was the one who signed the statutory declaration at Campbelltown police station on June 10. Mr Hopper said that meant Ms Matthews should not have been charged with the offence of making a false complaint to police."

Do you know what else that means? It means one idiotic woman, has made a big news story about what a liar she is, and at the same time JUSTIFIED WHY BURQAS/HIJABS SHOULD BE BANNED IN WESTERN COUNTRIES!!!

If her own defence is going to turn around and claim it could have been anyone in a hijab that gave the statutory declaration that day, then it goes to reason that because of that fact, no-one should be allowed to wear one, or at the least, remove it for identification purposes.

And if that is such a massive problem for you, then move to a Muslim country, it's that simple.

Of course this will provoke the usual calls of racism. But there are things I can't do in Muslim countries. If I want to do those things, I have to move here. So why different rules for Islam?

Stephen Hopper, in the pursuit of an excuse for one Muslim client (and who failed, because she's in jail), has pulled the rug out from under the cause of all Muslims in the West, who wish to observe their religious style of dress. Carnita Matthews, has sold out the cause for all of her brothers and sisters in Islam, to get out of a ticket.

Just wow.

Addendum 21/06/2011:

Remember when I said "Carnita Matthews, has sold out the cause for all of her brothers and sisters in Islam, to get out of a ticket"?

The Police Minister has in the press today made clear he intends to tighten up identification procedures for those who wish to hide their faces for religious purposes- Carnita has sold out her brothers and sisters in Islam.

When I think of Islam, I think of people drawing from a rich and extensive history of the written word, of intellectual thought, of science.

Increasingly however, we are confronted by images like the ones above, of aggressive Muslims shouting and acting violently in public, instead of engaging in reasoned argument, whenever things don't go their way (interestingly enough, things did go their way in the above picture, but it turned violent anyway).

I hate to sound like a radio talkback DJ after ratings, but I'm sick of it. I'm sick of scenes like this one in Australia. I'm sick of shouting and threats, hiding behind religion. Don't get me wrong, I'm sick of white Australians acting badly too.

I don't care whether jails work or not. I don't care if they're just breeding grounds for future criminals. If someone acts violently, they should be removed from society, and thrown in a dark hole. And if they don't learn the first time, don't ever let them out the second time. I'm sick of civil libertarians holding society to ransom over the 'rights' of criminals.

I'm sick of all of it, because law, and particularly order have become a joke.

I would much rather a society where people are raised right, with a sense of family, community, balance. But we don't have that society, and we're never going to have it.

Lock them up, and let them rot. If they're not from here, send them back. And fuck their 'rights'. Because the people who were born here, and would like to grow old here, are under attack from violent offenders, and it has to stop.

Ms. Matthews is a joke- a stupid woman who makes Muslims look like unintelligent criminals, hiding behind the symbol of her own oppression for personal gain. She broke the law, but escaped jail, and the absolute idiots in the photographs who support her celebrate that fact today.

When all they have done, is brought increased police scrutiny and security measures against their religion, over what? A minor driving infringement.

Where is their leadership? Why have they allowed this to happen? Why didn't she just pay the fine instead of turning this into a three-ring media circus?

Because she is stupid. Her supporters are stupid. And now everyone who covers their head will have to remove their burqa/hijab when dealing with police- exactly the thing Carnita Matthews had a problem with in the first place.

"WOMEN wearing the burqa or other head covering may be ordered to remove it to identify themselves in the wake of the Carnita Matthews case.

Police Minister Mike Gallacher has revealed that police do not currently have the legal power to require women to show their face if the women refuse on religious or cultural grounds.

He said he wanted the law tightened up.

"Police powers in relation to face coverings are not clear," Mr Gallacher said.

"It’s time to address that."

He said he had spoken to rank and file police who wanted the situation clarified.

Any decision on whether to appeal the controversial judgment by Judge Clive Jeffreys would not be made until after the judge hands down the reason for his decision which is expected tomorrow.

The government is also considering passing new laws requiring people who make complaints against police, or in the case of witnesses giving evidence, to have to provide at least one fingerprint and their signature.

This follows the finding by the judge that he could not be certain that it was Ms Matthews who made the statutory declaration complaining about the officer who stopped her car because the person who handed the document in to the police station wore a burqa.

Mr Gallacher said he was waiting until Police Commissioner Andrew Scipione returned next week to discuss exactly what needed to be done.

He said he did not expect this to inflame community anger about women wearing full face coverings.

He said he had been told that there was nothing in Muslim culture or religion that stopped women from identifiying themselves in certain circumstances.

Yesterday, Ms Matthews avoided jail because her identity could not be proven.

Ms Matthews, 47, from Woodbine, in Sydney's southwest, had been sentenced to six months in jail for making a deliberately false statement that a policeman tried to forcibly remove her burqa because he was a racist.

But judge Clive Jeffreys said yesterday he was not satisfied beyond reasonable doubt that it was Mrs Matthews who made the racism accusation because the person who complained to police was wearing a burqa at the time.

The absurdity of the law is that, to reach the level of proof of identity to make the case, Mrs Matthews would have been required to identify herself by lifting her burqa at the police station - what started the uproar in the first place.

More than a dozen Muslim supporters linked arms and began chanting "Allah Akbar" as they stormed out of Downing Centre Court with Mrs Matthews concealed behind them.

Tempers rose and they began jostling with police after several members of the group attacked cameramen.

It marked a stark difference from their behaviour minutes earlier, when they had quietly assembled outside the lifts for prayer shortly after the judge's decision.

Mrs Matthew's lawyer Stephen Hopper defended their actions saying: "They are obviously happy with the result and are expressing it in a way that is culturally appropriate to them."

Judge Jeffreys said yesterday that even if Mrs Matthews had made the complaint, he could not be sure she knew it was a "false" statement.

"I am not satisfied beyond reasonable doubt that she made the complaint," he said.

"Even if I was satisfied that she made the complaint, I am not satisfied beyond reasonable doubt that it was knowingly false."

Mrs Matthews made the claim in her court appearance last year, saying police could not prove it was her behind the burqa when the complaint was handed in to police. The local magistrate rejected it.

The case had lit up the religious debate when a magistrate found Mrs Matthews had deliberately made false complaints that Sergeant Paul Kearney was racist and had attempted to tear her burqa off her face when she declined to remove it on request.

She was pulled over for a random breath test last June, and accused Sgt Kearney of racism only after he booked her for failing to properly display her P-plates.

The incident was captured on a patrol car video camera and helped clear Sgt Kearney, prompting calls for all police cars to carry in-built cameras to avoid false claims.

"I've got my P-plates on my car ... there was nothing wrong with how they were displayed," Mrs Matthews says on the video.

"You look at me and see me wearing this and you couldn't handle it. All cops are racist."

She then threatens, "100 per cent", that she will take the matter to court and fight the charge.

France was the first country in Europe to implement a full ban on covering up faces in public.

France's burqa ban descended into farce when the first women to be summoned before a European court for illegally wearing the garments were refused entry, because they would not remove their face coverings."

Addendum Two 04/07/2011:

As predicted, Carnita Matthews' false assertion that Police officer had attempted to rip her niqab (face veil) away from her face, and the media circus that followed, has blown up in her (covered) face.

The State Cabinet has given Police new powers to remove face coverings of anyone suspected of committing a crime. "Suspected".

So the thing Carnita said happened but didn't, will now be happening all the time, because of her, and her own selfish, short-sighted motivations.

Story here:

ANYONE with a head covering - including burqas - suspected of committing a crime will be forced to show their face with police given new powers by the State Government.

Premier Barry O’Farrell announced this afternoon his Cabinet has approved the powers which will come into affect in the next few months.

Police will be given new powers to require motorists and others suspected of committing crimes to remove any head coverings so they can be identified.

Mr O’Farrell said there should be no discrimination – in favour or against any race – when it comes to helping police identify people suspected of criminal breaches.

“I don’t care whether a person is wearing a motor cycle helmet, a burqa, niqab, face veil or anything else – the police should be allowed to require those people to make their identification clear,” he said.

“I have every respect for various religions and beliefs but when it comes to enforcing the law the police should be given adequate powers to make a clear identification.”

Meanwhile, Attorney General Greg Smith said the Director of Public Prosecutions had provided advice that an appeal against the decision in the Carnita Matthews case was unlikely to succeed.

The Government will not lodge an appeal.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Poop Machine.

2010-11-16T15:57:00.000+11:00

My toilet is quite a joyous place.

The room, not the actual device...although it definitely plays its part.

A lot of men enjoy the solitude of the toilet, and appreciate a place in which to think, and I am no exception. I have become the cliche of the grumpy old man retreating off to the loo for half an hour with a newspaper under my arm. I'm lucky in that my girlfriend leaves an ever increasing stack of magazines in there, within which I can slip the odd motorcycling magazine, for my own pleasure. For some reason, I can't "commence", until I have found an article of interest, and am past at least the first paragraph. That, I believe is the definition of "anal retentive". So if you're a psychologist and you're reading this, please go read something else.

I like to think in there, and it strikes me how so very few people seem to like to think. Look around...there's a toilet roll holder. Which came first? The roll or the holder? And isn't it just crazy how if there is a holder in a toilet room, how most people ABSOLUTELY MUST put the roll on it, no matter how difficult the mechanism may be to navigate, or no matter where the genius who designed the room put the holder. I have mentioned before I once went to an architects house for dinner, and took him to task over the fact he put the roll holder next to the toilet- behind you! So you have to reach behind yourself just to get at the damned paper. That's not fair!

I have a similar setup at my place, so I just put rolls in front of me, and pretend the holder isn't there. Anarchic, I know.

But my housemate ABSOLUTELY MUST load up the roll holder anyway, because, well, she's obviously a contortionist.

I saw a pamphlet for Clinique skincare products on the stack of my girlfriends magazines in there today, and thought "I really should recycle that". So instead of doing that, I tore it in half, and realised I didn't care about recycling it at all. I just hated it. A very Merry Clinique Christmas to you, too.

Sometimes I am forced to look at my girlfriends magazines, and it makes me angry. Do the writers ever read themselves? Not sure they do.

Like the article in 'Madison' about a 14 year-old eccentrically-dressed fashion blogger, who doesn't like to give out interviews, because the kind of people who watch 'Good Morning America' and 'Oprah' are the last people she wants to communicate with. Madison had to quote a New York Times interview, because she wouldn't get back to them, either. So...they just admitted that the probable future editor of Vogue magazine thinks they're so shit, she won't even give them an interview?

Have a think, maybe.

And don't get me started on the picture of Ryan Reynolds in 'Famous' magazine that is actually Ryan Gosling. Even I know that, and I'm a hetero male. Although I have to be truthful and say the real reason I know is because my girlfriend made me watch 'The (stupid) Notebook'. And also the lyrics from the (awesome) 'Lonely Island' track "Lazy Sunday": "No doubt the bakery's got all the bomb frostings- I love those cupcakes like MacAdams loves Gosling!"

Maybe I should have just quoted that...

Some of my greatest ideas and inventions have occurred on the toilet, and you'd be well familiar with them, and maybe even have them in your own home, if it weren't for the fact you can't write on toilet paper. I'm thinking of buying an Apple iPad just to record such outhouse inspirations. Also, because the toilet is the only room in the house worth installing one into.

I've kinda run out of things to say today, probably because I'm not on the toilet. I have a killer virus (it's an expression, not a fact), and I'm counting the minutes 'til I have to go do security for a big TV show, or do security for a big music venue, depending on which end of the building my boss sends me to.

Wish me luck.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Who Will Stand Up To The Superrich?

2010-11-15T15:52:00.002+11:00

I've never done this before.

This has always been MY blog.

But I read this today, and as much as Lefsetz and I have gone to war with one another every now and then, when he's not drowning in arrogance, he nails it.

This post, he does just that, and if you enjoy music, you owe it to yourself to expose yourself to these words.

Lefsetz riffs on this original post...his reply is below. You can red more here and here.

We had an election in the music industry, the incumbents lost. The public gave the thumbs-down to the major labels, Live Nation and a ton of the acts. But just like in the real world, the only ones hurt were the little people, the acts themselves. Who got famous, but in most cases didn't get rich. Watch Kid Rock's testimony on this. Talking about the "American Idol" stars. The executives got rich off "American Idol", the producers. Even if you won, you gave up the lion's share of your income to the label. That's the way it's always been. But now that the label can't make as much money, you've got to give up revenue on your other, more profitable streams... Why, because the fat cats deserve it!

There's a fascinating column in today's "New York Times" about the superrich. Turns out they're not the people you know, not the celebrities or the singers, but those who work for the corporation and the bankers.

Do you see Jimmy Iovine going on record?

No, that's the job of the RIAA. The RIAA takes the heat for the labels just like Ticketmaster takes the heat for the acts. And if the public is too stupid to realize that the Ticketmaster fees are a result of exorbitant act prices/demands, do you really expect people to know that the real winners in the post-MTV music era were the executives? Mariah made much less than Mottola. And Mo Ostin made more than all of them. You just don't know this.

But you do know music is overpriced and shitty.

But as soon as you say this, there's someone in the industry decrying the inaccuracy and injustice. Music is just as good as ever, and what a value, you can listen to it forever! And you should pay MORE so the music can be of an even higher quality! So they can be richer and have more time to make it. Huh?

This is the same kind of double-speak we get in D.C. That we just don't understand. But we understand that the bank is taking our home and you can't get a good job. We understand we paid fifteen dollars to hear one track. You don't forget that. After all, the public doesn't get its music for free.

Until now.

Never underestimate the hatred of the public towards the music industry. Sure, free is nice, but most people believe they're entitled, after being ripped off for eons. And if there were no copyright, we'd have a whole different bunch of people running the music ship. You see the rights holders, the labels and the publishing companies, use their catalogs to continue to wreak havoc, to make war on their customers, to resist change, not in an effort to save music, but to get richer.

Tell me. Who is the young new record label star?

There isn't one. The rich fat cats don't want to let anybody in. Just like the Forbes 400. Only 16 of the latest list was newcomers. That's down from 40 or 50 in recent years.

And the funny thing is how wannabes are lining up to sign away their rights to participate for poor pay in this old edifice. Wanting their face in lights, thinking that fame is everything, they become tools of the corporation, chewed up and spit out in the process. Today's new major label artists are just like the poor people voting to decrease taxes on the rich, thinking they may be rich one day. But the statistics tell a different story, the odds of getting rich in America, working for the man, are ever lower. Because the man controls the game. And the man wants to keep all the money.

So what is the way out?

It's the acts. It's all new players. The old guard has proven that change is anathema to them, and rich interlopers just want this same power, like Meg Whitman running for governor with her eBay money. She didn't want change, she just wanted to buy her way in. The public didn't buy it.

The public doesn't believe the present music regime is on its side. And the reality is, it isn't.

The present regime says recorded music and concert tickets must be expensive. That you've got to tie in with corporations. Let me get this straight, these same Fortune 500 corporations that are ruining American are going to somehow save music? Music only triumphs when it's distanced from the game, when it personifies truth, when you can believe in it.

And when it's really good. Made by people who've been honing their craft for eons. Not the ten year olds who can't write, sing or play the industry is always trumpeting.

P2P trading and the Internet are the best things to ever happen to music. Because it brings it all to the people. It may not be good financially for the old, very rich guard, or even some old rich acts, but it's fantastic for the public. Isn't it funny that those who can afford to hear everything don't acknowledge this. When I was a kid you had to sit by the radio to hear a track. Now you just fire up your browser and it's right there on YouTube. You can download an entire album for free and find out it sucks, so you don't have to buy it.

But if you like an act, you can still give it all your money. Hell, there are more ways to support your favorite acts than ever. There are those studies saying the music industry in toto is on the way up.

I'm not saying music should be free. I'm just saying we now live in a better world for the consumer than ever.

In the future, how can we get everybody to pay a little for a lot. That's the way out of this mess. The cell phone industry figured this out. Handsets used to be a grand and calls were a buck a minute. Now kids have cell phones and parents like this, because they can be in touch with their progeny 24/7. Technology is not the enemy, it's the solution.

But this isn't about the Napster question. People are trying to solve that problem. With Spotify and other services. This is about the people holding the future back, those presently in power controlling the rights. They are the enemy. And if you don't think this is true, you're one of them or have been brainwashed. Or let me put it this way, if you believe cutting taxes for the rich is going to benefit the poor, how come there's been no trickle down effect in the music business? How come when the hidden fat cats got richer, music didn't get better and concert tickets didn't get cheaper?

The public has very little control over the Fortune 500. Sure, they can stop buying their products, but oftentimes they don't even know what those products are.

But they know what the music industry's products are. And they're not going to overpay for crappy music on the antiquated technology known as the CD and they see no reason to see that hair band at the amphitheatre one more time, paying to park if they didn't even drive and consuming ten dollar beers.

The music industry has been running a disinformation campaign worthy of the CIA. And just like the CIA, most people have no idea who's in the organization. And if you question the CIA's behavior, the blowback is YOU WANT TO BE SAFE!

But music is not your life, hasn't been for eons, even though that's the case when the industry is most healthy. People are not afraid of the rights holders. They've rejected them. And the rights holders have been crying about it for a decade now, to no avail.

Because the public threw the bums out. It's just that the bums don't know it yet.

"Who Will Stand Up to the Superrich?": http://nyti.ms/9GJBa5

Kid Rock video (use Firefox for best results): http://bit.ly/bC5C4X

Rock Star Status.

2010-10-28T13:54:00.005+11:00

Those that know me, know that I have spent the majority of my adult life on the road with bands, touring, hanging out behind the velvet rope, and all of the excess and crazy bad behaviour that comes with it.

I've met a huge selection of the A-list, seen them at their worst, and in some cases, put foreign objects in their assholes. " It's boring, but it's a part of my life"- Ron Burgundy.

So when I meet someone new, and they have heard about me from a friend, the inevitable question is "Tell me a story from the road?"

They stand with baited breath, wanting to hear about the time after the awards show, when I walked a celebrity actress, a blonde perfect 10, known more for her epic chest than her acting ability, back to her Hotel, and what happened next.

Or the time on tour with the band *** *******, when we wrecked 6 rental cars in an hour.

Or the time I bent the newsreader over her desk and....

But you know what? I like this one-

One day in summer, we were in the tour vehicle, rolling along a coastline with the ocean on our right, and hills full of sheep on our left. It was one of those moments where everyone was getting along, good music on the stereo, full bellies, summer smells. Perfect.

But out in the water, I saw a white shape, and I realised it was a sheep. It was caught in a current, and was well on its way to being swept out to sea. It was kicking and trying to swim, but it kept going under, out past the breakers.

One of the guys in the band saw it too, and instructed the driver to pull over.

We all jumped out and ran to the waterline, and me being the least important, jumped right in and swam out to the sheep.

He wasn't a friendly sheep, and he wasn't small. He had horns (which makes him a ram), and he had way too much wool on him for that time of year. So when I grabbed him, he fought me out there in the water, neither of us having the luxury of being able to reach the bottom.

He weighed at least 100 kg's wet, and was almost as big as I am in the body. I kept going under, and caught a horn a few times in some excrutiating places. It took 15 minutes to get him to the shore, I was beyond exhausted.

But I wrestled that bastard back to the beach, and picked him up like a wrestler, dragging him bucking and bleating across the road to the fenceline. The band pulled down the top wire, and I dumped him safe and sound on the grass. Back in his world.

He glared at me, ran along the fenceline to the break we all just noticed at that moment, and ran straight across the road again and back into the water.

I was fucked if I was going to go get him again, so we all just sat on the beach and watched this crazy old ram headbutt his way through the waves and for all we know, swim to Indonesia.

Whenever I meet someone who works the land, I ask them "Do sheep like water?", and they always say "No". So whatever his motivation was, I'm sure it would have made an epic tale if he survived (which there is no way he did).

In comparison to moments like that, all the parties and celebrity wank, and 'here today gone tomorrow' personalities and endless stress and technical difficulties of life on the road just fail to compare, which is why I'm pretty happy being separated from it all nowadays.

The best thing about life is the living of it, not all the decorations and acoutrements we dangle off it.

Write that down.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

I remember...Part One in a series.

2010-10-07T17:10:00.003+11:00

I remember :

When my last record came out, and a bunch of my readers bought a copy and played it in a bar somewhere in the USA, and posted pics of them and random bar patrons holding up encouraging home made signs, on their blog of the night. I loved every one of them.

I remember:

Walking into a random bar in Warsaw, Poland, in the middle of the night, and hearing myself on the sound system. I don't remember all the free drinks that followed, but started remembering again around the time I ate a zapiekanka.

(This is zapiekanka).

Just 2 memories of a past life, and a massive-ass picture of an Eastern European sandwich.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Slow Erosion.

2010-10-06T20:45:00.003+11:00

It's crazy how, when you have nothing, you dream about getting to a stage where you're just safe.

Safe.

Nothing's happening, you've worked your ass off for months to have a place to sleep at night, electricity, water. A job. But that's it.

There are super-positive people who will say "It's all up to you! the future is bursting with possibilities! You're only bored if you're boring!"

Fuck off. I'm tired.

Tired when I get up, tired when I go to sleep. Tired in between. It's like the older I get, my body changes, and its receptors for excitement get burned out. I'm bored by everything. I thought it would be a phase, that it would pass.

Not so lucky.

I'm sick of other people. The smell of other people. The noise of other people. It's not that I think I'm better, but I know how to smell good and be quiet. I identify with all the grumpy old characters. Or the widowers in British dramas that die alone. But I'm not that old. Some people struggle to believe I'm over 30. Is this what they mean by burning out too soon?

I took a lot of risks in my life, not because I demanded a lot from existence, but because I didn't think things through and threw myself into bad situations a lot, just to pass the time. I passed it a bit too well.

Everything is finite in my experience. It might be in a really big container, but everything runs out eventually. Or at least ceases to be available in your location. There might be diamond planets out there, but that doesn't help poor people here, does it?

You do run out of time. Out of passion. Out of working body parts. Hope. Health. All of it.

Use it up quick and it's gone.

So what do you do then?

Go to the park and feed the ducks?

Please.

I just do what dogs do when they run out of ideas- lie down.

My lack of motivation is at an all-time high.

I got nuthin'.

Bang bang.

2010-10-05T13:48:00.006+11:00

No memories today, I need to talk about something dangerous...

Having a heart is a wonderful thing. Sympathy, empathy, generosity, compassion, these are all beautiful aspects of the human experience. And it is amazing when animals display any of these qualities also.

Put simply, they make life better!

And so I would never look at qualities such as these as ever being problematic.

However.

We all know people with big hearts, who care a great deal, who only have the best of intentions. Good people, but nonetheless misinformed. "Bleeding heart liberals".

I want to talk to/about them now.

It is my opinion, that the truth lies within facts. And facts are hard to discover, when you come from an immovable moral position. Morals are a framework which help us to maintain orderly societies, and relationships within those societies. But they don't exist naturally. Morals aren't like the need for food, the strongest of us can get by without them, depending on how many other people we need to interact with in order to survive.

Morals are helpful, but should never interfere with fact.

Example: Say for instance you are opposed to the death penalty. You believe all people have a right to life, that no other human person can take away.

This is a very positive sentiment, and I can see why many people believe this.

Now let's say someone has you and three friends locked in a room. And he says that he will kill all of you unless Jesus himself walks through the wall and commands him to release you. You have 10 minutes to live, and you can see a knife that your captor didn't.

So you have 2 choices:

1. Let yourself be killed. Or,
2. Kill your captor.

There does exist a natural instinct in people, to fight to survive...to resist death at all costs. And it is stronger than any moral framework (unless you have been brainwashed).

So...who in the world would blame you for killing your captor? No-one. Even bleeding heart liberals, when put in this position, would instinctively fight to live. It is legal- It is self defence.

It is this that I want to address today.

In Australia (where I live), there is a fair amount of violent street crime. There is a mentality here that in order to fit in, young men must drink as much as they can, in a very short amount of time. It is testosterone fuelled, and often results in glassings, brawls, stabbings, rapes, and sometimes shootings also. Add to this the drug problem in this country, and you have home invasions, burglaries, robberies, armed robbery, etc...

There are a lot of people who are typically idealistic young people, or middle to upper class residents of low crime areas, who criticise police and security officers in situations relating to their self defence in the face of these crimes.

I know why they do it. They feel they are correct in making judgements on these people, who are trying to protect public safety, if say, they shoot a man to death when he is armed with a knife.

From the comfort of their armchair, they do the math:

Gun is greater than knife, therefore, Knife is less than gun.

So if a knife is less than a gun, there is no excuse to shoot a man, armed with a knife.

And that sounds perfectly reasonable. As we all know, guns shoot accurately from distances outside a knifes thrusting range. And most people don't throw knives, because unless they are specifically designed for that purpose, they don't work that way.

That's the danger of judgement from an armchair.

I have met a lot of arrogant, violent, unintelligent police, who simply should not have been in that line of work. But I'm not here to address that right now. I want to speak in their defence, and leave the emotion out of it. Because the facts aren't being represented.

I have already illustrated the sliding scale of moral judgment.

Sometimes, the rules we make for ourselves have to move aside, because reality just walked in.

I carry guns, extendable batons, fixed batons, ballistic vests, and all manner of tactical gear on my work assignments. I'd love to not, but for my safety, and the safety of the public, I need to.

And while a lot of people (young guys mainly), think that must be awesome, it is actually the opposite. For every weapon I carry, the amount of freedom I have goes down, proportional to the amount of responsibility I have taken on.

It is the same for police (although they get a lot more room to move than I do).

I train every day of the week, doing tactical drills, in order to keep my mind sharp and my reaction times fast. Also because there are thousands of ways any given situation can play out. And so I need to know which way will be most effective to my objective, but also taking into account what is legal according to the authority given to me by the law.

This is hard work.

And the amazing thing about tactical training with excellent instructors, is that it shows you how incredibly quickly a situation can change from all clear, to 'you're dead on the floor', in literally one second. Officers don't go to work in their armchairs! They go to work in a world where they could (and do) die in a heartbeat. They know this, they have seen this, and so when they are confronted with a situation (which can go a thousand different ways), they do their best to survive, and arrest the perpetrator for your safety (not run away and fight another day). They put their lives on the line for you every time they badge up. Try to see it from their point of view a little more.

Armchair critics don't have any idea how guns work. They see movies, and believe what they see. The reality is that Hollywood (even when they hire weapons experts to come in and consult for them) does not realistically portray the unglamorous world of gun safety/responsibilty. And definitely does not represent how hard it is to shoot a person with a 9mm when you're both running, even from 7 metres away. We are trained to believe you just point and shoot, and it works!

It doesn't.

Guns (semi automatics especially) are tricky things to operate, and require endless repetitive drills to become comfortable with operating them safely and efficiently. Accuracy is far from guaranteed, and an immense amount of time and energy has to be put in to shoot well, even at a basic level.

Add to this the stress of being in contact with a person who is attacking you, or convincingly threatening to attack you, and many more variables come into play.

This is how a knifeman is killed by a gunman.

Because an officer isn't going to put away his gun and fumble for a baton or capsicum spray, just to try and play fair with a knifeman. And neither should he.

ANY PERSON WHO POINTS A WEAPON OF ANY DESCRIPTION AT AN OFFICER OF THE LAW, SHOULD EXPECT TO BE SHOT DEAD AS A RESULT.

Oh, but why not wound him? Because officers are trained to aim for the centre of visible mass, which is where all the major organs are. They are trained to shoot here because in a stressful situation, there is a smaller margin for error, and so they are less likely to miss the target and shoot an innocent person.

Most people have no idea officers aim for the centre of the body for public safety.

What if the knifeman is mentally ill? So what? That's not the officers problem! Where is his carer? Who is responsible for looking after them? It is definitely a sad state of affairs, but in that moment, the person who is holding the weapon had better drop it, or all bets are off.

There is talk of taking tasers from the police, as a couple of people have died lately, after being tased. If they were co-operative and didn't fight the officers, they wouldn't have had to be tased. So it is their own fault. Would it be better if it was avoided? Of course. But spare a thought for how frightening it is to be attacked, your bodies natural release of adrenaline, the stress, and the incredible speed at which people can attack. The fact officers used tasers at all is testament to their training, and their desire to use a non lethal alternative to their sidearms.

If you think it's ok to get drunk and attack police, think again. If you think it's ok to try and fight security, think again. These people are all in place to protect human life and property, in short, to help you. And if you get badly injured, saying you were drunk is not an excuse.

As an armed bodyguard, it is my responsibility to protect people who are under threat. If they weren't, I wouldn't be hired in the first place. I make an exceedingly expensive room decoration! The Greens in Australia want to take away the right of security officers to carry weapons at all. How are we meant to do our jobs, against organised, motivated, and armed criminals, without weapons?

Are we meant to simply ask them to leave us alone? Where is the logic? There is no logic.

Gun crime is very low in Australia, and none of it is perpetrated by security officers who have been checked and investigated by the police at every new level of certification, just to be security officers. Taking tasers from police limits their non lethal options.

Armchair critics (and politicians) will kill us with their well-meant but badly thought out opinions, and this has to change.

Talk about this matter with your friends. Or around the water cooler. Think about what you would do if someone burst in wherever you are right now and pointed a gun at you, or threatened you with a knife. Remember a time in your own life when you felt scared and helpless, and imagine you had an armed officer there at that moment to help you, and how you would then feel?

Good intentions are wonderful things, but they must be balanced by facts. Taking guns off the good guys isn't going to stop criminals, it will help them. Taking tasers from police won't stop deaths, they will increase them. By all means, introduce mandatory new training requirements, make available better courses and contact with training professionals, heighten the standard of training, only let the best through.

But if you take our tools, we can't work.

Who will protect you then?

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

La Revolución

2010-09-30T02:13:00.005+10:00

I look at things I have a lot, and ask myself "What is this for?"

The realistic replica lightsabers I had...what were they for? Fun and novelty every now and then, but not much else. So I sold them.

The crazy rams horn beach cruiser I had when I lived in Fremantle (Fuck- did that actually happen?!), What was that for? Dead weight- I own 13 bicycles! So I left it by the side of the road, and watched someone throw it in their car and race off.

I still own 11 guitars. What are they for? I really don't need that many for anything. So they should go. That will be harder to allow myself to do.

And this blog. It's here...I write in it. It's archived by the National Library in Canberra because it has some kind of artistic cultural value for Australia, apparently. Heaven help us! But what's it for, what does it do?

I have wanted to delete it (not that that would actually make it not exist any more (see archiving), and start again, anonymously, so I can post my thoughts and not have to deal with the repercussions of the opinions of people I know. So I could write without judgement or fear of reprisal (not that these things have stopped me from writing anything yet, but it's the thought that counts).

I definitely feel abandoned and sooky because I used to have a massive following, and now I don't know if anyone reads it any more. Like Tears for Fears, without the hit songs. Every now and then someone posts a comment, and it shocks me. It's like coming home to find a total stranger in your lounge room, explaining to you how you've wired up the quadrophonic stereo system incorrectly.

Unexpected.

So, I'm not sure why I'm in here again, typing my thoughts while I wait for my rice to cook. While my girlfriend is away in Sydney, competing in the top 10 of X Factor on TV. When I have a day off tomorrow, so I'm gonna do my thing all night...to have me time.

But I'm here, and you're here, so I guess let's get started.

A lot of people ask me about my blog, some of them I know, some have been strangers at parties who have read me. Once I had someone call out my nom de plume "knifey" from a passing car, which I thought was incredibly impressive (he should be a police officer or something!) Impressive because I had no idea who he was.

And the thing they ask most is "Are your stories real?"

So let me kick this off by saying:

THIS STORY IS A TRUE STORY. IT HAPPENED TO ME. IT'S LEGIT.

The scene:

I had moved to capital city, after being fired from my job making gourmet cheese, for having no initiative. I can't be mad- they were right, I had none. And the cheese was delicious, so I took my hat off to them (and my rubber boots, apron, and overalls), and moved to the city.

I worked in a Mexican Restaurant. Those that know me know that those 2 words placed together are like gastro porn. I love Mexican.

It was an ok job (I got one meal a shift out of it, but I could have eaten a lot more than that.) One of the waitresses was an intoxicating skinny and pale model called Sarah, who liked Nick Cave and Einturzende Neubauten, and wore patchouli. She used to flirt mercilessly with me, and that made the time pass a lot faster. I wonder where she is now? She smelled amazing. For a goth.

I had been working late, double shift, and I was walking the loooong walk home. I lived in the ghetto (which was actually really nice, but don't tell the media that), and was passing an alleyway when I saw the figure of a girl kneeling in the gutter sobbing.

I rushed to her side and asked her what was wrong, she turned to look at me and she whispered "They're all dead."

This isn't something you want to hear.

I asked her who, and by way of explanation, she pointed a long slender finger to a car 10 metres down the street.

So of course, you have to look, right?

I walked up to the car, put my face against the glass of the passenger side rear window- nothing in there. Repeat with the other windows- nothing in there.

There was nothing in there.

I walked back to her, still in the gutter, still sobbing, and informed her the car was empty. She looked at me again, then cried out in a wail "Oh no! They're gone!"

Heavy, right?

I was so concerned about this girl, and I didn't want to leave her in the street, so I asked her where she lived, and flagged a taxi. I put her in it, got in with her, and off we went to get her home safely.

We arrive at the house after 15 or so kilometres, and I have to pay this massive fare, so all my money is gone. I'm thinking being a white knight kinda sucks mad balls, and I'm heartily over it, and she tells me to come in with her.

We walk in the front door, through a lounge room with people asleep on the sofas, and on the floor- obviously there had been a party here earlier. She took me through the kitchen and down a hallway, and we're standing in the bedroom.

You're thinking this gets sexy, but I'll let you down now and assure you it doesn't.

There are two people in the bed- a man and a woman. The man was...let's be honest, an obvious steroid abuser. The woman was a model, and if she wasn't, she should have seriously looked into that. They were both naked and uncovered, and I could smell the sex in the room. He snored.

The girl says, out loud, and way too loud- "I don't know these people!"

"Why are these people in your bedroom?", I asked, just over everything at this point.

"My bedroom?", she snorted. Then, matter-of-factly- "This isn't my house!"

Oh great!

I'm standing in the Hulks bedroom, looking at his little brown balls and naked hot girlfriend, with a total psychopath that must have had an LSD slurpee at 7-11 half an hour before I found her, and I will confess and say I felt quite uncomfortable.

My first priority was to GTFO, ASAP.

So I crept out of the house, with one hand clamped over this odd bitches mouth, and luckily for me when I got us out into the yard, the police car that was driving by screeched to a halt and shone its spotlight on me.

Obviously, they wanted to know why I was dragging a girl kicking and attempting to scream (if it weren't for my hand on her mouth), out of a house at what was then 4am on a Saturday night.

I explained, and luckily the girl was so obviously bonkers they believed me. I asked them to please find out where she lived and take her there, so I could get back to my life, and hopefully sneak in 2 hours of sleep before I get up for my next shift.

They begrudgingly agreed, which for cops in New Zealand, is just amazing (because they're all fucked beyond belief over there, because they're not allowed to carry guns at work like real cops). Even I'm licensed to carry guns at work, and I'm just a security guard. But I digress...

So they got the truth out of her, and went into this new house to make sure she lived there, and they were glad they did, because they had a meth lab in the kitchen. So I had to wait in the back of the cruiser while they called every cop in the lower North Island to come bust this house full of nefarious individuals.

I never saw that girl again, and was glad I didn't have to look any dead people in the eye that night.

And I learned drunk and/or wasted girls are to be avoided at all costs. Because the currency they trade in is drama, and that's no good if you like having a good nights sleep.

I don't know why I remembered that, but now you know it too.

Maybe it's because I had to pick up a drunk girl at work tonight, who had passed out. I revived her, in time for her to puke all over pretty much everything (including herself), then I let her become a taxi drivers problem.

And by "pick up", I mean physically lift, down 2 flights of stairs. And she was let's just say "a big girl". Easily 110 kilograms of dead weight, drunk-ass, sloppy ho.

See what I mean? -Drama!

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Sticker Panic.

2010-09-14T21:42:00.001+10:00

I don't know if you're like me, but...wait. Yes I do, and no you're not.

Let's start again.

When I was a kid, if someone gave me sticker, a decal, anything sticky with a graphic on it, something would come over me. My heart would beat faster, my pupils would dilate, I'd breathe hard and fast. This sounds like sex, doesn't it? Yeah, it's not.

I'd panic. What older people would describe in pecuniary terms when they'd say "...that money is burning a hole in your pocket." Except that sticker was the money.

My eyes would dart around, and...hey, maybe I should write this in the third person? Too late now I guess.

Fuck it.

So my eyes are darting around, and I would sweat a little, and basically become obsessed with finding that sticker a home. Without realising the plastic backing was peeled off and discarded, and I'd be walking around like a zombie praying to the sweet Lord to just give me a sign, where to put this beautiful intoxicating picture of a banana with a smile on its face/tyre dealership logo/erect penis from Brazil.

Maybe Mother Theresa was like that? Except she was obsessed with feeding people and getting them medical attention. And don't tell me she didn't sweat, because I know for a fact she worked in India. Everybody knows it's stupid hot over there, and they don't get to have a winter. How many professional Indian snowboarders do you know? I tell you this- if we all got the fever for doing the right thing by each other, this world would be a better place. But unlike Mother Theresa, the rest of us get off on doing things that are bad/dangerous/fattening.

So anyway, I would get fully worked up over sticker placement, and the second I carefully placed it on the bedhead/back of the chair/tv screen, I would INSTANTLY REGRET IT.

Stickers aren't designed to peel away, any more than bullets are designed to bounce off, or Ford motor vehicles are designed to actually be safe. So I'm screwed, right there. I'd take a step back and think "What just happened?!" Why would a normal kid that likes riding BMX bikes off the first floor balcony, or raiding people's liquor cabinets when they weren't home, and be naked and drunk when they returned, why would a normal kid like that just lose their minds and put a sticker on the tv screen?

Sticker panic. That's why.

Medical fact.

Stickers are designed for one purpose- to stick like an absolute bastard (unless you get your stickers from Asia, in which case good luck to you). As previously noted (pay attention), they are not designed to come off. So once that backing is removed, you absolutely have to stick that sucker on to something, otherwise you mess with destiny, and the stickers whole raisón d'etre HAS BEEN DESTROYED.

You did that. You are the one who is responsible. Not me, baby. I would NEVER DO THAT.

Think about it...

What are guitars for? They're for rocking with, obviously.

So what about those dudes that buy guitars and keep them in their cases like they're made of angel farts, and only take them out with special cotton gloves so their fingers don't tarnish the nitro finish from 1958? They're fuckwits, that's what.

The purpose of a guitar, is to rock. Everybody knows that.

The purpose of a sticker, is to stick. Duh!

So when you get a sticker, it is imperative that you peel off the backing immediately, and run around the house looking for a place to lay it on down. Which reminds me of a story...

My girlfriend is normal in every way, except that she's hotter than anyone on the planet, and farts on me (which I find endearing (but only when SHE does it)).

She also has the ability to instantly teleport herself to any room in the house, because when I'm running around with a fresh sticker, she's there with her arms
crossed saying "Nuh-uh!" like a good Southern baptist woman. Then when I run to the other end of the house, she's already there, looking fine, shaking her head. Just another reason to not trust women. Their menstrual blood attracts bears too, apparently. Seriously, who needs that?

But you know what? I'm not here to talk about stickers or women. I'm here to talk about the backing of stickers.

I know you want to hear something revelatory, like if you rub the backing on your johnson, it will grow twice as large, and smell like a steam train in high summer.

But I would never lie to you.

The truth is, I know a guy called Aideed, who lives in the Middle East. For those of you in America, the Middle East is overseas.

Aideed's middle name is Mohammed, and when he's not praying to Allah and studying the Qu'ran, he is an absolute world class powerhouse maniac for sticker backings.

Yeah, I said it.

Aideed not only saved the backings from a whole lifetime of his stickers, but of all of his friends and families, and even complete strangers. He would go door knocking, and ask people to let him know if they ever got a sticker backing, and to let him have it when they were done with it. He was like a stamp collector on crack, for serious.

So when I met him, he had sixteen apple boxes full of sticker backings. 16 boxes of bad smelling plastic-y shapes with no pictures.

At first I thought he was bonkers, but then I realised it was all due to the fact that different cultures see things in different ways. Aideed was a very spiritual cat, and so for him, it wasn't about the thrill of sticking something on something else, but rather the quiet and meditative appreciation for the things that have come before. In many cases he had never seen the sticker that accompanied the backing sheet. He had no idea what colours and images had lain so close to that plastic for so long. And in the not knowing, lay the vast and limitless ionosphere of potential.

That's the stuff dreams are made of.

One by one, he would take them from a box, and gaze lovingly at them...imagining what banana with a smile on its face/tyre dealership logo/erect penis from Brazil may have at one time spread its banana-ey arms/rubbery tread/jizzy lightning bolt across that space.

Guess what he did for a living?

He was a sticker designer!

(No he wasn't, he was a structural engineer, but in my mind he will always be the other thing).

I'm the most cynical person on the planet, and I'm super quick to judge people. I judged you when I was in the shower this morning. So I like it when the world grabs me by the ear and drags me in front of something different, some facts from another perspective, or throws me into that rarified air of other people's way of doing stuff. I like being wrong, because it shows me there are still things out there I don't know, and that therefore, there may still be hope. Of some kind. Somewhere.

Maybe even just a molecule.

But to my mind, even if there was only one molecule of hope in the whole world, then it would be the most precious thing, and the most valuable thing, and all the better for its scarcity. Like the illusion the diamond cartels have perpetuated all these years.

Who would have thought we could find it on the back of a discarded sticker sheet?

Aideed, that's who.

Rock on... now all I need to do is discover someone who keeps Star Wars boxes but throws away the figurines. That would be some truly zen shit, right there.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

We can breathe underwater.

2010-08-28T00:11:00.007+10:00

I woke up in hospital, and I wish I had a glamorous story to tell you, but I just don't.

It was an everyday hospital, although I did have an amazing view from up there on the tenth floor. I had a room all to myself, or I would have, if Mum wasn't there.

She was seated on a chair by the window, and she had that 'Mum glow', you know, where it seems like they are powered by nothing more than love for you.

She didn't make a fuss- not her style, even though this was a suicide.

Her view? "If you really want to go, well, I'll miss you, and of course I'd rather you didn't. But some people just aren't for this life." I never could work out if that was supportive and pragmatic, or bleak and hopeless. I still can't.

You're probably wondering what embarrassing set of circumstances brought us all here, I'll relent.

I was being hounded by debt collectors, I'd made some bad decisions. Impulsive, expensive ones. Now, that just seems like life, but back then...I had a lower tolerance for the everyday. And I was heartbroken of course, or I thought I was. The advantage to living longer is the overview. You see what love really is if you're lucky. You definitely realise what love wasn't.

Some people really aren't worth opening a vein for. I'd counter no-one is, despite the romantic notions imprinted upon us by Shakespeare, and to a lesser extent, Jeffrey Eugenides.

Anyway, I was labouring under a dose of way too much Nine Inch Nails, teenage heartbreak, and what can only be described as a general lack of interest in "what comes next". I was bored. Every day I was bored. You could have told me that one day we'd have iPods and electric motorcycles, and I'd just meh my way past it. I didn't even have email back then. It sounds like 1958, but it was 1995.

And I guess I was tired too. Get out of bed tired. Go to bed and can't sleep because I'm too tired, tired. The big sleep beckoned.

So, without any fanfare or desperate behaviour, I paid money to everyone I owed it to, who wasn't a corporation. Boxed up my belongings, and wrote the names of my friends on the boxes. Star Wars toys went to Marty, power tools to Brandon, etc...

I slung a steel cable over a solid timber beam a foot thick, rigged it the usual way- noose end down. I put a bar stool underneath it, and put myself between. I was bored while I was doing it, but I was glad to have something to do. I took one final look around the old biscuit factory that was my house, jumped up in the air, and kicked the stool away.

It hit the back wall with a noise that sounded excessively final. If it was a voice, it would have said "There is no way you're going to be able to get out of this now- even if you wanted to". And as the cable bit into my throat I was inclined to agree.

I saw stars, as is normal, and as I waited to pass out, I did a slow circle of the room, spinning slowly. I thought two things:

1. This is the last time I'll see any of this. And,

2. I knew this would hurt, but this is just crazy.

As an aside, the sunbeams coming through the window took on an amazing, other-worldly golden radiance, and I thought for a heartbeat that I would miss that.

So I guess my civic duty is to say, should you be considering the same style of exit, probably try something else, unless you really, really hate yourself. This method is painful beyond words.

And as bored as I was, and definitely looking forward to the next part, where the pain stops, I'd be lying if I said panic didn't grip me then. My legs started to kick, like they had a mind of their own. My hands desperately tried to pull the noose free, and just before the blackness swept over me completely, I made the vainest of attempts to make a loud noise, as if that would set the pain loose.

Scene.

I still don't know who called the ambulance, but I was eventually informed that someone had. That the steel cable had somehow broken, and that I was discovered in a pool of my own excrement, no heartbeat, not breathing, not in any way vivus, alive.

So the medical people did the things medical people do, and I got to ride in an ambulance (although of course I don't remember this), and nurses who I wouldn't meet 'til later took my clothes off and washed my cock for me, which as much as I have done some things in my life, is still a weird thought for some reason.

And after however long, I opened my eyes, and here we are.

Mum eventually left me to my own devices, and I thought of how I felt about this new and unexpected state of affairs. The nurses came and talked to me, both guys and girls. I felt like a newborn to a certain extent, and I quite enjoyed talking with them. I can't explain the novelty, but you know they say "change is as good as a holiday", I guess that was 9/10'ths of this.

It took me a couple of weeks to physically heal, breathing hurt, talking hurt, moving hurt, eating hurt. So basically everything hurt. I didn't expect sympathy, we all knew it was self inflicted. Friends came to visit, Mum again, the occasional awkward phone call, where the caller had no idea what to say, and was scared to freestyle in case they inadvertently set me off on another suicidal downward spiral.

It was odd to see that people cared for me.

I'd have to say that genuinely surprised me.

And at night, I would be alone with my thoughts (apart from the camera wired to the nurses station, ensuring I didn't re-offend), and I'd try to piece together what to do now.

I had this weird feeling of responsibility to the friends I had back then, even though not one of them keeps in touch nowadays. I felt like them caring for me on whatever level meant I owed them my best shot at life.

And of course I felt ashamed, too weak to deal with the same shit everyone else goes through on a daily basis.

I thought about the people I knew, and the effect I'd had. And even though, as I say, they don't check in any more; at the time we were close- I believe that. Back then, I meant something to them... some meaning I've since lost, or time has rusted, or... whatever goes on in other peoples worlds that I don't comprehend.

I had a friend called Benedict, who made everyone laugh. Tears running down your face laughter- the rarest kind. This kind of action was a daily occurrence for him. Despite this his heart was quite remote and hard to reach, he was very serious underneath. While I was in hospital, but before anyone told him what had happened to me, he hung himself too. Difference was, no ambulance turned up for him. I didn't see it coming, although I knew his world was in conflict. And I cried as I thought and felt the emotional and physical anguish he went through, to achieve lasting silence. I felt so hurt to imagine how much he must have hated himself, to go out in that manner. Pills are easier. But he wanted to punish himself for something, what it was will forever remain between him and whoever he did it to.

I was casually seeing a girl called Kristin in the weeks before my... whatever it was. And upon reflection, it was cruel of me, to leave her with no answers, while throwing out a big question like that. Death is a question, for those who are left. She was very relaxed, unlike the hurricane of intensity that was "she who shall not be named". She was relaxed, and very pretty, and I was lucky to have won the attention and affection of such a good person, of such a beautiful heart. She came to see me in hospital, and I was beside myself with guilt, for being so heartless. She walked into my room, and her energy was the same as it ever was (although she looked like an angel to me- I hear this is normal under such circumstances). And she put me at ease without saying a word. All she wanted to do was smile into my eyes, and stroke my hand. I was so drugged up I fell asleep, and when I awoke the next morning, she had come back again, and was waiting next to my bed. I said "I'm sorry for that", and she just blinked her smiling eyes at me, as if ocular morse code was standard in situations such as these. She told me she'd be waiting when I got out, whenever that would be.

My housemate Sean came in too. I didn't have much to say with him there, nothing personal or mean-spirited... we just had a quiet kind of situation happening, that we were both equally at home in. It was almost like "Well- if you get a hospital room, I want to hang out in there too", like whatever was mine was his by default. I didn't mind. The opposite, totally.

A couple of guys I used to skate with brought food and magazines. I was really happy to have been so considered, but humiliated that everyone in the city must have known how weak I'd been. I don't like to show my weaknesses, typically insecure.

And when I was physically operational, it was time for therapy. Although the actual damage was limited to my throat/windpipe/arteries, my whole body was wrecked from it. So I needed physical therapy, as well as someone to talk to (and convince it was safe to let me go out into the world again).

My psychiatrist was Doctor Lawrence. He was a no-nonsense, obviously hideously rich person who, while his bedside manner was intact, it was obvious to me would be extremely unpleasant and opinionated with a couple of wines in him.

I felt constantly rushed with him, like I had to answer him within two seconds of each question or he'd just walk out without a word. Of course he wouldn't, but that was the feeling.

We talked about motivations, if I'd learned anything, and I said "Not really". So he asked me what was my raison d'etre, and I said "I don't know- everything just feels different this time". That seemed to satisfy him, and three weeks after being rolled in on a gurney with tubes and wires and concerned faces; I had the all-clear to just walk out like a regular person.

I went back to my bed to wait for my clothes etc, and fell asleep again.

When I woke up, everything felt worse.

The nurses were different people. More concerned, strangers, suspiciously checking on me every five minutes. The pain was back, more intense than before. I had tubes in me again. A different psychiatrist came to see me, a Doctor Ellison, and she had no idea who Doctor Lawrence was. I asked myself if I had died, and this is the confusion I earned myself by punching my own ticket. But there's no pain when you're dead, and I was in pain.

Mum walked in, and her face didn't glow. She looked angry and hurt. I felt like an inconvenience... I always feel like an inconvenience.

"What did I do?" I asked her, desperate to know why she was so angry.

"You didn't do anything love, it's just the situation... how do you feel?"

I told her I was confused, and she said she knew. I figured this was just her psychic maternal wireless broadband doing its thing, but it was more than that.

Everything was wrong.

I asked her where my friends were, if they were coming to visit? She shot a look at Dr Ellison, who pulled up another chair.

And together, they ripped my world apart.

It had been three months, not three weeks, since I was rolled in. I had alternated between states of conscious depression and violent seizures. I would frighten the staff with offers of violence, if only the drugs made it possible for me to get out of bed unassisted. In my waking moments I had talked to my friends, to my visitors, but those visitors had never actually been there.

And those visitors, those friends I had known for years, had never existed.

Through session after session with the Doctor, I was informed that half of what I thought was my life, was a lie. A covertly constructed, expertly crafted lie, created by my subconscious. A lie that integrated seamlessly with reality, a privately held set of beliefs and experiences that never were.

And this lie, had been going on for years.

One by one, I watched my friends die, in a sense. As their existence was revealed to be fallacious. Relationships, secrets, jokes, life, all came undone and fell in strands on the floor.

Places I'd been, houses I had lived in, jobs, relationships, belongings, all fell away, to reveal who I really am. Who I'd been all this time. A person that was a stranger to me.

Many years before, when I was very young, something happened. Something I'm not ready to talk about. Something I can't make any sense of.

And this thing, marked me in a way. As much as I remember it, and even feel like the horror of it has abated, like I'm at low tide now, I can deal with it. I can't deal with it, and any progress or acceptance I thought I had is just another falsely held belief. It broke me, I never healed.

And I developed complex scenarios to escape from this reality. Movies I had seen and songs I'd heard had never been recorded. Bands I liked had never formed. Books I read were never written. I invented friends and lovers, traveled to places I had never seen, and did things I have never done, all the while believing it was my life. All the while feeling so real, impossible to be anything else. But I wasn't there- I was locked away inside myself, trying to be safe.

I worked jobs like everyone else, without the slightest suspicion from my employers that I wasn't fully there. No-one knew, and no one got close enough to guess.

And through this process I discovered I had very few friends. Very few experiences. And I could no longer say with certainty that I had done anything until I checked with my Mother.

The suicide was real though... I had proof of that.

I hanged myself (that never sounds right, does it?) to escape from my life as it was. I took a chance that was 99% weighed in favour of nonexistence, in the hope I could stand where I stand now- in front of a life I can build for myself, with real materials, among real people. And ever since that hospital stay, I have done and achieved every thing I once claimed as real.

It can be confusing, walking down a street in Osaka for the first time, when you were sure you had been there before (only everything was different!) But it's exciting too, and I feel like the things I make (as much as they will rust and fall apart when I am gone) are really worth something.

I don't know what that means, but I feel it. I really feel it. With my bones.

And now I see so many people, living inside their own heads, scared to come out, hiding from the truth of something... I'm like the ghost whisperer for people like that. I see through the bullshit, and I think that's a great superpower to have. because if they want to come out and be real, then they have a friend, and that's me.

People hurt us, disappoint us, underwhelm us, and even disgust us, but they really are beautiful and rare, with the capacity to do such incredibly Universe-changing things.

I have faith in us.

And at last I have found some faith in me too.

I'll keep you posted.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Don't Vote!, & other tales of wonder.

2010-08-17T14:19:00.008+10:00

"Being angry at the ignorant serves no purpose...they are merely defending what they passionately view as truth. Write that down..."

I should know better, but I still read the comments sections of online newspaper editions. And as much as I'm aware (like any chat room/message board scenario) that comments are monopolised by a very vocal and prolific minority, I feel it does give some insight into what we've become as a nation of people.

I see a number of recurring themes, & by far the most common is the "me factor".

In this article, Tony Abbot is attempting to swing the long-term unemployed vote with a promise of an extremely large cash incentive. (No policy on increasing the number of jobs available, and the irony is lost on him that this is exactly the kind of behaviour that he crucifies Gillard for on a daily basis. But then, Abbot has long been criticised for not having any policies of his own.)

In the comments, the vast majority of posters ask "Where's MY bonus for working (x number of years)?"

Isn't that something?

What about me? Why can't I get money to reward my hard work?

I would contend (as much as I don't support Abbot's policy), that those in long-term employment are rewarded, by receiving wages; as opposed to the unemployed, who earn so little ($270 per week on average for adults), that the concept of earning $750-$1000 per week sounds like a beautiful dream.

Granted, there are those that ride the system for all they are worth, and I understand that Australians are angry (rightfully so) about this. But putting your hand up and asking for a handout when you have a job is quite an interesting proposition.

When you were young, and you saw your parents watching the news, you picked up on many subconscious signals. You observed your parents reactions, and in many cases, adopted their viewpoints. And when the finance report came on, you heard the commentator talk about "the economy". THE economy.

And your parents would listen and take in the information with grave seriousness. What happens to interest rates? How will this affect the mortgage? And so you learn that the economy, while impossible to understand, is very serious. It is bigger than you. And it controls your life.

People think the economy is necessary, and have no idea there are alternatives. They believe economists (who are directly engaged in activities to protect THIS economy, not possible, stronger economies, or to engage in debate to discover the best economic model), without generally knowing how the economy works.

They can't know...it's supposed to be a secret.

They're not meant to find out that the RBA (Australia's central bank) isn't owned by the people. It is a private entity, that prints money (that we can print ourselves), and loans it to us with interest. This interest grows and grows, and it is known as The National Debt. Every one of us is in debt to a private bank for money we never personally borrowed, when we could print the money ourselves and regulate our own currency. Our tax system has no legal basis (there is no law authorizing the ATO to demand your money), and our income tax dollars go directly toward paying this debt, as opposed to education/health/infrastructure.

But you know, forget I said anything. I'm sure you're happy paying a percentage of everything you earn, to pay for a debt you never asked for, that in no way benefits you or the society you live in. Oh, and that is actually illegal and unconstitutional. You might like financing the private fortunes of a select few wrinkly old men.

I don't, but that's just me...

If everyone knew what I just wrote, society would change overnight.

No more income taxes/levies/GST etc, no more RBA, no more of the current political model that has allowed this to happen. Your money would be YOUR money.

And the Government wouldn't need to tax you, because there would be no more debt payments to the RBA to contend with. In fact, a class action law suit against this unconstitutional tax and grab job from the banks would mean we'd be in gravy for centuries. What they are doing is ILLEGAL, but it is allowed to happen because they run the Government, therefore the legal system. It has been this way for decades, and most people never knew it. the bankers, The Government, the Opposition, and the Senate should all be jailed.

But because all of us have been robbed by the Government at every opportunity, there has emerged an attitude of "every man for himself".

If you can get money, you should. Dog eat dog.

And this is reflected in the aforementioned comments sections of the major newspapers online editions (which in case you've been living under a rock, are owned by the same big business interests that run your Government and everything else).

Another surprising attitude I see is that people think that money has to be taken from one source and given to another- ie: "dole bludgers" to pensioners. No thought for the fact they both need it, and that if we weren't all getting screwed by our representatives in Government, there would be more than enough money for both groups of people. And Australia wouldn't care so much, because they wouldn't have the (fallacious) attitude that they are supporting them through taxes.

I'm not asking you to believe me on any of this, by the way. Please research this for yourselves, don't take my word for it. Ideally I'd like to encourage debate and discovery, so swallowing everything I say wholesale isn't going to get you there.

The point here is that there are alternatives to the way things are, and they're not socialism or anything else. Democracy would actually make a nice change in this country, because despite what you've heard, we don't have it!

So here's the big finale: Don't vote.

I am so sick of people like 'Just on the wagon' in MX (Aug 6, 2010), saying things like "Come on, Aussies, this election may be the most boring we've had, but it's still important. At 21, I vote because I can. It's a right we're lucky to have."

Two things:

1. Kudos for correct spelling and grammar, because that is almost nonexistent in the majority of newspaper comments.

2. What JOTW is saying is, I do this thing called voting, because I can.
Now, I can go eat a banana, because I can. Does it follow that it is vital for me to do so? Also, "a right we're lucky to have"? Why are we lucky to be able to vote, in a so-called democracy?! We have the right to have tacos for lunch too...would we be lucky to have tacos for lunch? Obviously yes we would be lucky, as tacos are delicious. But you see what I'm saying...

Granted, we can vote, and no-one will stop us, but there is NOTHING WORTH VOTING FOR. NOTHING! Not one party is honest or transparent, otherwise they'd all be telling you what I have just told you in this blog post!

Every single party in this country (therefore- choice), is complicit in the cover ups that keep us from having a truly fair and reasonable society, that is based on what is best for the people of the country, as opposed to the pockets of bankers (and the maggots that feed off them- the economists).

So sure, I (waste my) vote, because I can. And I am (apparently) lucky to do so!

I shouldn't be angry at JOTW, as they are speaking from ignorance. They just don't know any better. And that's not their fault. It's the Government's fault, and it's your fault, and it's mine, for not speaking about this sooner.

I don't think most people believe the extent of the corruption of this country. It's too shocking. But the proof is there. There is legal precedent in the Courts for Justices refusing to allow the law of the land into their Court, as skewed as that obviously is. People generally have a sense that there is no justice in Australia, when they read about someone getting 8 years for murder. And they generally believe the Government has lied to them here and there- look at Howards denial of climate change/children overbaord for example. But the full story- it's too shocking to believe right now.

Well, believe it. Look it up. Ask questions. Stop being so apathetic, and turn off Master Chef.

Because the good news is: It's not too late. Almost, but not quite...

We still have a constitution, and even though the Government continuously sneaks acts by us, wrapped in a purposefully circus-like (therefore not worth scrutinizing closely) political labyrinth, we can use it to make them follow the will of the people.

We can force a referendum on the very nature of Government in this country, for transparency, and to shut down all of the agencies that leech from us or keep us from justice.

And we can do it by not voting.

If enough people stop voting, it shows no confidence.

If enough people stop voting, it shows the system is broken.

And if enough people stop voting, the Government will be forced to start listening, and to give us something worth voting for.

The alternative is for people to start an honest party, but the media will discredit it, the people will believe the media, and they will never get their foot in the door.

We are all being manipulated to maintain the status quo- to keep ourselves down. That's just crazy.

If you're on facebook, a friend has started a group that is a forum for like minded citizens to chat about why they will vote informal or not vote informal - whatever the case may be.

Start questioning...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Statistics:

http://www.news.com.au/features/federal-election/fears-of-massive-swing-in-voter-backlash/story-e6frfllr-1225906125687#ixzz0wq4XMvrg

Nearly 1 million people are expected to shun the election process on Saturday - more than 7 per cent of the electorate.

This is more than enough people to swing the result, with the highest levels of informal voting expected in the key election battlegrounds of western Sydney.

This comes as former Labor leader Mark Latham has encouraged the nation's 14 million voters to lodge a protest vote and leave their ballot blank - an informal vote.

More than 510,000 people entered an informal vote in 2007.

Another 453,600 Australians did not even bother turning up to vote.

And with the election on a knife edge the major parties are nervous about the impact of Mr Latham's comments as the 10 divisions with the highest percentage of informal votes in both 2004 and 2007 were in western Sydney.

The Australian Electoral Commission has found about 35 per cent of the informal votes were deliberately spoilt.

Language difficulties was ranked the next biggest reason for invalid ballots.

The number of informal votes peaked in 2004, with more than 250,000 NSW voters lodging dud ballot papers.

Political commentators warned the price of compulsory voting was that elections were often decided by the least informed.

But Monash University senior politics lecturer Nick Economou said it was ironic that it was a massive anti-Latham mood blamed for the spike of informal voting in 2004.

"Back in 2004 a lot of people in western Sydney didn't like Latham but couldn't bring themselves to vote for Howard so they registered informal votes," he said.

And of those who did not fulfil their obligation at the ballot box, almost 400,000 escaped fines by giving excuses such as unable to vote on religious grounds or because of a medical emergency.

Only 59,000 people (13 per cent of non-voters) actually paid the $20 fine Australians are threatened with if they fail to vote.

And just 64 people were taken to court for not paying their fine.

The electoral commission admits it is more about encouragement than enforcement in terms of getting people to vote.

In a 2009 report to Federal Parliament, the commission said it would need to spend $10 million and substantially boost staff numbers to chase non-voters through the courts.

Emergency Broadcast.

2010-08-14T13:40:00.011+10:00

When reading this blog, in order to best understand the angle I'm taking, assume that I don't support the corrupt system of Government in Australia, and don't trust anything they say/do as being anything other than a ramp leading to the self-interest of a select few with vast amounts of wealth.

This doesn't mean I don't like to party! I just know this setup is broken, and it's well within our means to fix it, so that it works for everyone, and it won't make us Communists.

This article is of great concern to me.

It really shouldn't matter, as it doesn't matter who you vote for, you still end up with 'The Government'. But if you're going to waste your time buying into a system where you vote for whatever you consider to be the lesser of 2 evils, when in reality, they're all owned/funded/dictated to by the same people (banks, mainly), then that vote should still be counted in a legal and ethical way.

'Get Up' is a not for profit organisation in Australia, that is funded by donation, and does some exceedingly great work in attempting to "build an accountable and progressive Parliament - a Parliament with economic fairness, social justice and environment at its core."

I respect the organisation, and what they do. But I also know, as Aldous Huxley explained:

"Hell isn't merely paved with good intentions; it's walled and roofed with them. Yes, and furnished too."

I'll paste the article here, my comments will be in bold...

GetUp! wins again in online vote case

Jessica Mahar

August 13, 2010 - 3:34PM

Australians will be able to enrol online after the Federal Court ruled in favour of activist group GetUp! in their action against the Australian Electoral Commission.

The group took the commission to court after concern was expressed about an online voting enrolment site it created in July.

(More on that here.)

But today Federal Court Justice Nye Perram ruled the test case of 19-year-old Sophie Trevitt, who enrolled on the GetUp! website OzEnrol, was legal.

GetUp! national director Simon Sheikh called the win "historic".

‘‘Today’s decision vindicates the process of online enrolment,’’ Mr Sheikh told reporters.

Just because the Federal Court Justice makes something legal, doesn't mean it's actually the right thing to do, or that it will work.

‘‘We know that we pay our taxes online, that we do our banking online and we should be able to enrol to vote online.’’

The fundamental difference being, that when you pay taxes, that money is going to one source. If 2 competing sources were vying for that tax payment, then problems would immediately arise.

When you bank online, you bank between yourself, and your bank (who act as an intermediary (and are paid accordingly), who then in turn act as an intermediary between themselves and the creditor. If more than one agent acted as 'the bank' in that equation, your money may not make it to where you wish to pay it.

He said GetUp would be campaigning to allow online enrolments in all future elections, starting with Victoria’s state election in November.

‘‘The AEC’s next moves are up to them. We’ll be pushing the case for online voting vigorously so that it can be in place in time for the Victorian state election.’’

End.

So- in simple terms, here is the problem:

While online voting would be more convenient, there is no guarantee that your vote will be counted as cast. Without a physical ballot (like the traditional paper ballot), there is no way of checking the results against actual votes.

It has been demonstrated that it is possible to tamper with software of a voting machine to add malicious code and alter vote totals or favor any candidate. A demonstration how this could be done on a Premier Elections Solutions (formerly Diebold Election Systems) AccuVote-TS was conducted by the Center forInformation Technology Policy, at Princeton University. Another demonstration with a different voting system was shown on Dutch TV by the group "Wij vertrouwen stemcomputers niet".

And if there is no voting machine, just direct internet connection between voters and the Australian Electoral Commission, then the Government has been handed direct control of your voting results. They decide who stays, and who goes, not you. Without paper ballots to count, they can manipulate the voting data, and there is no way to prove they did.

Also, there exist Malicious Payloads (Backorifice 2000/CIH virus), that can actually change the voter's vote, without the voter or anyone else noticing, regardless of the kind of encryption or voter authentication in place. This is because the malicious code can do its damage before the encryption and authentication is applied to the data. The malicious module can then erase itself after doing its damage so that there is no evidence to correct, or even detect the fraud.

The delivery mechanisms for these attack viruses can be physical or remote installation (email virus), social engineering (where people are fooled into giving up their own security), or specialized devices that are open to tampering.

The first program, Backorifice 2000 (BO2K) is packaged and distributed as a legitimate network administration toolkit. In fact, it is very useful as a tool for enhancing security. It is freely available, fully open source, extensible, and stealth (defined below). The package is available here. BO2K contains a remote control server that when installed on a machine, enables a remote administrator (or attacker) to view and control every aspect of that machine, as though the person were actually sitting at the console. This is similar in functionality to a commercial product called PCAnywhere. The main differences are that BO2K is available in full source code form and it runs in stealth mode.

The open source nature of BO2K means that an attacker can modify the code and recompile such that the program can evade detection by security defense software (virus and intrusion detection) that look for known signatures of programs. A signature is a pattern that identifies a particular known malicious program. The current state of the art in widely deployed systems for detecting malicious code does not go much beyond comparing a program against a list of attack signatures. In fact, most personal computers in peoples’ houses have no detection software on them. BO2K is said to run in stealth mode because it was carefully designed to be very difficult to detect. The program does not appear in the Task Menu of running processes, and it was designed so that even an experienced administrator would have a difficult time discovering that it was on a computer. The program is difficult to detect even while it is running.

There can be no expectation that an average Internet user participating in an online election from home could have any hope of detecting the existence of BO2K on his computer. At the same time, this program enables an attacker to watch every aspect of the voting procedure, intercept any action of the user with the potential of modifying it without the user’s knowledge, and to further install any other program of the attackers desire, even ones written by the attacker, on the voting user’s machine. The package also monitors every keystroke typed on the machine and has an option to remotely lock the keyboard and mouse. It is difficult, and most likely impossible, to conceive of a web application (or any other) that could prevent an attacker who installs BO2K on a user’s machine from being able to view and/or change a user’s vote.

The second malicious payload , the CIH virus, is also known as the Chernobyl virus. There are two reasons why I chose this example over the many other possible ones. The first is that the malicious functionality of this virus is triggered to activate on a particular day. April 26, 1999 was a disastrous day in Asia, where the virus had not been that well known, and thousands of computers were affected. This raises concern because election dates are known far in advance. The second reason for choosing this example is that the damage that it caused was so severe, that it often required physically taking the computer to the shop for repair. The code modified the BIOS of the system in such a way that it could not boot. The BIOS is the part of the computer that initializes and manages the relationships and data flow between the system devices, including the hard drive, serial and parallel ports, and the keyboard. A widespread activation of such a virus on the day of an election, or on a day leading up to an election could potentially disenfranchise many voters, as their hosts would not be usable. This threat is increased by the possibility that the spread of the virus could be orchestrated to target a particular demographic group, thus having a direct effect on the election, and bringing the integrity of the entire process into question.

It does not take a very sophisticated malicious payload to disrupt an election. A simple attack illustrates how easy it is to thwart a web application such as voting. Netscape and Internet Explorer have an option setting that indicates that all web communication should take place via a proxy. A proxy is a program that is interposed between the client and the server. It has the ability to completely control all Internet traffic between the two. Proxies are useful for many Internet applications and for sites that run certain kinds of firewalls. The user sets a proxy by making a change in the preferences menu. The browser then adds a couple of lines to a configuration file. For example, in Netscape, the existence of the following lines in the file

c:\program_files\netscape\prefs.js

delivers all web content to and from the user’s machine to a program listening on port 1799 on the machine www.hellbournechoppers.com.

user_pref("network.proxy.http", "www.hellbournechoppers.com");

user_pref("network.proxy.http_port", 1799);

If an attacker can add these two lines (substituting his hostname for www.hellbournechoppers.com) to the preferences file on somebody’s machine, he can control every aspect of the web experience of that user. There are also ways of doing this without leaving a trail that leads directly to the attacker. While proxies cannot be used to read information in a secure connection, they can be used to fool a user into a secure connection with the attacker, instead of the actual voting server, without the user realizing it.

With this in mind, it's not just the Government fudging results you should be concerned about, it's direct access by unscrupulous operators (big business!), taking direct control of your votes with no evidence that they have done so.

To be honest, right now, with the system set up as it is, your votes count for nothing. But if we manage to regain control of our Government through the creation and succession of a new political party that actually represents us instead of bankers, then a solid voting system would be hella advantageous.

Another factor to consider, is, even if the internet was a safe way to vote (which it isn't), votes are not guaranteed legitimate, for the following reasons:

1. Vote buying.

Say you're a disillusioned voter, and you can't be bothered. And say you were offered $100 for your vote. Would you sell it? Some would, and if internet voting comes into play, some will.

2. Vote bullying.

Say you owe someone money, and they say they will forgive your debt if you vote for their candidate. Or say you are flat-out intimidated into doing so. This happens all over the world, and where power is concerned, it can happen here.

3. Vote coercion.

Say you have a controlling family member/partner, and they strongly wish for you to vote their way. Would you? Some would, and again. some will. Without one person in a booth at a time, this will happen.

So as you can see, the issue isn't as black and white as 'Internet voting is convenient!'...it's actually a convenient way of giving up control of one of the few rights you have left in the so-called age of terror.

If you're concerned about this, please email Get Up here, and let them know why their great intention could be handing the keys to the wrong people.

info@getup.org.au

I will send Getup a link to this blog, and let you know if they respond.

(Monday 16th August, 2010... I did send them a link, and also posted an encouraging comment directing people with a thirst for more info to this page. My comment didn't make it past moderation, and my email has not been replied to. So maybe it's time I re-thought my position on how balanced Getup really is?)

More info:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3077251/

http://www.edubook.com/pros-and-cons-of-electronic-voting/22885/

http://cwilk00.tripod.com/cons.html

Addendum:

I deleted a comment submitted to this post today, and I'd like to explain why. It was sent from the 'Pro internet voting camp', was a form comment (sent to numerous sources in the same format), and wasn't even addressed to this blog (it was addressed to Getup Australia).

Normally I allow dissenting commentary on this blog, as more opinions gets us all closer to the facts, however this comment was simply propaganda, designed to lead us further into confusion (by avoiding facts).

Also, the same comment was posted to my formspring account, which isn't a forum or a site designed for comments- it is designed for questions. The reason the anonymous poster did this was to increase the number of links available to search engines...to confuse the matter, as opposed to casting light on it. This is a typical tactic, one that leads us away from a state of affairs where we can engage in meaningful debate based on facts.

Don't be fooled by what they say, or what I say for that matter! The purpose of me writing about issues is to encourage you to research them for yourselves, and arrive at educated conclusions as opposed to ignorant ones.

Vested interests invest heavily to keep you ignorant. Don't let them...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

This blog has borrowed technical information from this source-

http://avirubin.com/e-voting.security.html

Censorship @ news.com.au

2010-07-05T10:40:00.018+10:00

I'm not sure why it is, but every time I post a comment on a story at news.com.au, it is never published. Ever.

And I'm not the only one.

I would love to get an insight into their acceptance criteria, especially as not one of my posts were offensive in any way. And I have seen posts critical of the site or the pieces author published in the past.

When you go through the comments section on a story (they're my favourite part!), the level of intelligence at times is highly questionable, and the spelling is beyond embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as the spelling mistakes you see in a significant number of the articles themselves- there is no doubt proof-reading as an occupation no longer exists at news.com.au

And doesn't that really say something?

I can't get a comment through, but "Mrgaycunt lolcatsmagvin" can!

When the site you want to support doesn't even have the respect to communicate with you as an intelligent individual?

Are they actively trying to support the dumbing down of the population?

Or are they just lazy as hell?

I don't know the answers, but I do know I can't be bothered firing comments down a black hole, never to be published. Especially when Des and Shirleen from Murambibra can rant in almost unintelligible 'Strayan' about "what a pack of mongrels" the Government are, on a story regarding Muslim clerics pushing Shariah law in Western Sydney.

I'll just start commenting here, where they have less than no power to decide what I say. Suck it.

My other bone to pick with news.com.au, is that I hate it when their headlines are totally fallacious (this happens all the time).

Ie: The American man who "built a nuclear reactor in his house".

He didn't. He built a fusion reactor (totally different, and much safer) in a warehouse he rents (for such purposes).

Here's another one-

"Cameron called to Court to explain Avatar origins."

No, he wasn't! It's a Chinese court for a start, and James Cameron has gone on record saying he started work on Avatar 15 years ago, which predates the Chinese work by 10 years. So if anything, "Cameron countersues" would have been a bit closer to the truth.

I know I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. It's only out of pure boredom that I visit these news sites, and I'm always rewarded with fresh loads of...well...total untruth. And if they feel that I'm wrong, please attempt to sue me. That would be great. maybe you could subpoena James Cameron!

"HAYDA Bastani couldn't fiance Fadi Ibrahim in the face as she sat accused of plotting revenge murder."

Is that a sentence?

US President Barack's plan to redirect astronauts to inspect asteroids and eventually set foot on Mars is back on track.

President Barack? Are we on a first name basis now?

"aBut it seems the showbiz break-up of Kyle Sandilands and his much-younger bride Tamara Jaber has had the opposite effect..."

Need I say more?

"A rspokesman for the Palin family"

And again...

"This, even with the support of the judges who consistently give top marks to the Scarlett Belle band member."

Scarlett Belle is a duo, not a band. And they're barely a duo, having only one member that can actually sing well (and it isn't Jaber).

"JOBSEEKERS at a fast food restaurant were fleeced of up to $3500 each by the manager responsible for hiring them, police claimed yesterday."

JOB-SEEKERS at a fast food restaurant were fleeced of up to $3500 each by the manager responsible for hiring them, police claimed yesterday

I heard you the first time.

"BRITISH police have confirmed they shot at fugitive Raoul Moat with a Taser during an six-hour stand-off."

An six hour stand-off? Do you mean 'a' six hour stand-off? According to the particulars of that story, where Raoul Moat would kill a member of the public every time he read something inaccurate reported about him in the press, he might have been equally insulted by bad spelling and grammar!

And what about this story?

Most viewed story today, and yet it's more than a month old? I read it the first time it was 'printed', is it a slow news day or something? It must be- nothing that is actually happening is being reported on! So what? They just drag out old stories every now and then to fill in space? LAZY! AMATEUR!

"THE European spacecraft Rosetta performed a fly-by of a massive asteroid on Saturday"

Since when was being 3200 km away, a "fly-by"?

And I just adore the picture- of a satellite (not a spacecraft), orbiting Earth (with the Moon in the background (not an asteroid)), and suggesting that this asteroid was somehow close to Earth (it's actually near Jupiter), so you should go ahead and start to panic. That's a sensationalist picture, and doesn't reflect any of the factual matter contained in the story, apart from the fact it is a scene from Space. It's not even a photograph.

And after all the inaccuracies and mistakes news.com.au lets loose with on any given day, they actually scare quote this quote from Holger Sierks of Germany's Max Planck Institute, when he said "more than 400 "phantastic images'' showed many craters and details."

The guy's German. He can write phantastic if he wants, without some idiot excuse for an online newspaper scare quoting him over it. If they actually had a proof-reader over there, they might have even hit him with a (sp), just to distance themselves from that assault on the English language. Morons.

The most concerning aspect of news.com.au's behaviour, stems from this.

Try telling me that's not a hot topic! Even the Government is trying to do the right thing (in a very profit-motivated and twisted way), by making cigarettes just too expensive to buy. And Coles supermarkets, instead decide the best course of action (again, in a very profit-motivated and twisted way) is to make cigarettes available cheaply, thus circumventing the Governments efforts to (make more money from taxes) limit the supply.

The story invites readers to comment below it. I did (of course it wasn't published). But the interesting thing is- there are NO COMMENTS AT ALL.

As if!

Adelaide Now pulled the same trick with this article, making me wonder what the connections are behind the scenes?

Did Coles threaten to pull advertising on Rupert Murdoch-owned magazines (especially Master-Chef magazine) if comments were allowed? What's going on here? Because whether you smoke or not (and hopefully you don't), you're probably going to have a comment-worthy opinion to post in the comments section.

*Tumbleweed rolls by...*

So, as well as outright lying, putting spin on stories, and barely being able to construct a sentence, the 25 'journalists' who work for Rupert Murdoch's "News website of the Year", control the flow of information by shutting off comments for current stories.

My view is that the whole anti-Coles story was printed so Woolworths (which Murdoch has business/publishing partnerships with) could say for the record that they "would not follow the example of Coles", while avoiding a comments section that would pose the question- Why is Woolworth selling cigarettes to the public anyway? Aren't they "The fresh food people"? If they're so fresh and green, and healthy and family, why do they sell a product designed solely as a delivery device for an addictive and deadly coctail of drugs and chemicals?

Food for thought, right there.

So while they can shut down the comments on that piece of pro-Woolworths (read: The Competition) spin, they can't stop me from writing about it here, in a different corner of the internet, safely out of their control.

Suck it, Murdoch.

There are other bare-faced examples of rampant bullshit, but I'm late for an appointment. Maybe I'll edit some more in later.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

For Julia...

2010-07-04T19:34:00.002+10:00

My little bit to make Melbourne look cool

2010-07-03T22:04:00.004+10:00

A lot has been made lately of Tourism ads, and the embarrassing efforts of media people and Governments to extoll the virtues of this brown and red lump of dirt we call Australia.

I always thought, "why not get someone who is actually cool to do it?", you know...like someone who isn't an ad agency wanker or a politician who think they're creative.

Why not run a competition, and let people submit their own ideas, and then have the public vote on their favies?

With that in mind, I aimed my lookin' balls at Melbourne (or Me!bourne if you believe the hype).

No words, just Heavy Metal- Hope you dig it...

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Amanda Grafanakis for X FACTOR 2010 !!!

2010-07-03T18:47:00.002+10:00

Seeing as I don't own a TV, I tend to not blog about it. But seeing as the amazing and beautiful Amanda Grafanakis (who I first witnessed on Australian Idol '08) is now on X Factor Australia, I thought I'd do you all a favour and show you where you can congregate and adore her/get info, whichever suits:

GO HERE NOW!

I want to see her win, but in the meantime, just seeing her is good enough!

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Underwater Formspring.

2010-06-03T01:07:00.002+10:00

Question:

Would you eat fish, if that fish had the brain and personality of a puppy?

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

The gulf between us.

2010-06-03T01:02:00.003+10:00

When you're young you get the feeling that everything you do is creating history, even mundane things like getting out of bed.

When you're older you can just relax, knowing that nothing you do ultimately matters, and you can instead concentrate on how difficult it is to get out of bed.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

The undercurrent.

2010-05-31T23:09:00.004+10:00

Normally on this blog, I try to offer solutions.

I'm not sure why really. I used to have hundreds of subscribers, now I'm down to two (Hi Dsquared and ALIfantastic!!!).

Fame is fleeting, right?

But try I do. This time though, I just wanna ruminate textually, see where it goes. Because my mind is in a bad place, and I need a way out.

I had a situation recently on facebook, where a guy who once was once my best friend got back in touch. Here's the back story:

I got my second real job, working in a record store. Back when they sold RECORDS! Cd's too, but mainly vinyl. It was 1989.

I got this job by chance. I had just been fired by the cheese factory I had worked at for a year and a bit. I'm sure I've mentioned this before. I was canned for having "no initiative". How the fuck you're meant to have initiative regarding mould ripened cultures in a refrigerated environment is beyond me, but there you go.

So I took my holiday pay to Capital City, with a mind to buy a ticket to see Metallica for the first time. I ended up in a record store, where I scored a really nice Slayer tee shirt. The guy at the counter and I got talking, and he decided I should work for the company, so he put in a good word, and next thing you know I'm gainfully employed again. That guy went on to be super succesful in his band (which shall remain nameless), and we didn't last long as potential friends.

So...

I'm working in this store, paying off my first ever Fender Stratocaster (now I have 3 just sitting in the laundry cupboard, along with a Gibson Explorer, an Epiphone Firebird, 4 assorted Ibanez whammy guitars and a Ben Harper model prototype lap steel.) I was the guy you asked about rock and metal. There was another guy you'd ask about dance, an industrial guy, and a top 40 girl.

Through my position as the metal guy (remember this was the 80's), I got to vacuum the floors every morning, and basically be the shop bitch. That's cool, I was a bit of a bitch back then, I'll admit it.

And I met some people.

One guy, was really into metal, and shred, and he brought his first electric guitar in for me to check out- it was a BC Rich Warlock copy in black. And through our shared love of hypersonic guitar solos, we became buddies.

I'd hang out at his place for days on end (he lived in a converted nunnery with 2 sets of parents, and a whole mess of kids). Still not sure how that worked, and to be honest I don't wanna look into it too closely. Anyway, we'd jam together, and learned to program drum machines, and watched a lot of videotapes, and discovered Kruiz and Gorky Park from Russia, and a whole lot of other bonding rituals.

He had had a very sheltered life, and was one of those people who just couldn't believe anyone had done anything that didn't fit into his head. This didn't work well with me, as you will know if you read this blog, I have seen and done a bit more than your average person...I get itchy feet.

It all fell apart years after our first meeting, when he screamed in my face that most of my life was a total fabrication, that it had never actually happened, that I was a liar.

I was stunned, I couldn't speak. Total disbelief.

So I walked away and left him to whatever he was going to do next. And I continued on doing supposedly unbelievable things like touring the world with bands, being a bodyguard to celebrities, being on tv a lot, sexing hundreds of hot girls, and whatever else can't possibly have happened (but did (and in some cases, probably shouldn't have)).

The thing that cut me was, I ALWAYS feel worthless. That's why I work so hard to distinguish myself. That's why I do all the crazy things I have done, why I'm never satisfied to just live in the suburbs and work at the cheese factory with all my amazing initiative.

No matter what heights I plan for, when I get there, I always look around and say to myself "Is that it?"

If you read Aldous Huxley, he incisively hits the nail on the head as to why reasonably intelligent and free thinking individuals feel this way, but being in good company doesn't actually heal the wound.

I was so offended by this guy, so totally rocked that he had to impose his tiny world view onto my life, I couldn't get over it. It boiled inside me so much, that 17 years later, when he adds me on facebook, I exploded. I walked around the house in a murderous rage, no kidding.

I wanted to beat him senseless, so great was the offense. And I'm not generally known for losing it like that. If you saw me through the window, you'd swear I'd lost my mind...I was practically frothing at the mouth.

I denied his friend request, and sent him a message, basically saying I didn't give a flying fuck about him, or whatever he's been doing with his life. I felt like if he didn't believe me then, he's got no hope now I've actually had 17 more years to fill in!

Because I've done some things. And I'm proud of some of them. And I earned all of them. And no motherfucker (sorry Mum if you're reading this) is going to take away the fruits of my blood, sweat, and tears with a fucking sentence said in jealousy.

Like I said, I don't have a message here, a solution. I feel like venting, bleed the poison out.

At the end of this month I will have finished my Australian bodyguard certification, as well as a batons and handcuffs course, an armed security guard course, and 3 gradings in Tactical Krav Maga. That's this month.

Last month I passed First Aid, Certificate 2 in crowd control, Certificate 2 in security, and another 3 gradings in Tactical Krav Maga (back to back, in case that wasn't hard core enough for ya).

Earlier in the year I built a custom chopper for El Jimador Tequila (to be given away as a prize in one of their promotions), passed my forklift license (100% on the test, because I'm psycho about doing my absolute best), was asked by the National Archive in Canberra to create an art piece for them to archive for the good of the nation, had a trip to Queensland and one to Tasmania, all after I got back from The United Arab Emirates where I was living for 3 and a half months as a professional guitar player, and met one of my idols (Mark Chung from Einsturzende Neubauten/former senior vice-president of Sony Music International (maybe you've heard of them?)), who said my playing was "amazing" (don't worry, I have witnesses!)

I did all that while Mr Amazing was living in the suburbs and working his underwhelming job.

SO FUCK YOU IF YOU THINK IT'S IMPOSSIBLE FOR ANYONE TO DO ANYTHING YOU CAN'T DO.

I especially don't need it because every day my own mind tells me I'm an epic failure, that nothing I work towards matters, I'm frustrated by the passions I wish I had the talent to follow (but don't), that I'm a waste of time/space.

I don't need other people's bullshit opinions, I struggle with my own. But you know what? At least I fucking struggle. I don't just lie down and settle for conformity, or suburbia, or limit my efforts to an industry or scene that is a microcosm of the real world, where anyone can get noticed.

I hate that fuckwit for saying what he did, because it fanned the flames of my own self loathing. But if I'm gonna get dissed, I'd prefer it was over something real.

Me being a lazy do-nothing, who needs to invent a life for himself to feel better? Not even close.

I'm out there every day, searching for the life...the one where I finally feel like I'm home. I have more experiences than most because I work for them, I search for them, and they are magnetised to me because I'm ready for them. If I'm not the best at everything I do, then I come hella close.

Can you say the same?

So like I said, no answers today. Just a crapload of bile and venom. I'm not competitive about life, regardless of what I have written here. I just want to beat my own (very high) expectations, and am continuously crushed when I see the view from there is not what I had imagined.

I got to a point back when I was a guitar tech, when I had been around the world so many times, with bands that are legendary now, that I had to ask myself "How long do you have to live like this, before you feel like it's enough?"

And I realised the first band I had ever teched for (U2 actually), was probably all I needed, if I was in it to make myself feel useful.

So I quit, and went into retirement. It was so hard, because being a tech was a huge part of my identity. Always being backstage, having access and a perceived admiration, it was addictive. But not all bands treat their crews well, and I had had enough of setting up stages for other people to be adored on. I opened Hellbourne Choppers in 2006, so I could follow my passion, be my own little star, in a sky that was meaningful to me, regardless of whatever was in vogue at the time.

So...how much is enough now?

When will i feel like I haven't wasted the little time I get to play on this blue ball suspended in blackness?

What will it take before I can feel like it's ok for me to disappear into suburbia, and work some meaningless but personally rewarding job?

Looks like that guy I hate knew something I didn't after all.

And while I was spinning all over the world trying to do everything and be everything to everyone, he was content to quietly do his thing, surrounded by family, and the glow of doing something you love, without need of accolades.

I'm glad I realised that.

Despite all my powers of reasoning, it doesn't change anything. I'm ghetto as fuck when someone pisses me off past a certain point, let alone after 17 years. I'm just glad he made his attempt on the internet and not in a parking lot.

I should probably look into doing a course in anger management and stress relief?

This is knifey, from "the internet".

Henchmen.

2010-05-24T13:22:00.002+10:00

So, I own a business called Hellbourne Choppers.

I love my business, and so do a lot of other people. And I'm very protective of it, and as weird as it is, I just won't sell bikes to unscrupulous people, or the people who work for evil companies.

I'm sick of banks, telecommunications companies, insurers, etc going to work, raping the public, then leaving work and wanting to hang out with/socialise/be a part of the society they as a whole, are undermining or straight up destroying...one individual at a time.

It's like, if you're an evil person, go be evil away from the rest of us, BECAUSE WE DON'T LIKE YOU.

Every now and then (actually quite often), I receive emails (always from people's work accounts!), trying to buy my bikes. These people work for the big banks, or Telstra/Optus/Vodafone (but mostly Telstra).

And I reply to them in what I'm sure is quite a novel way.

I have included an example below, from my inbox this morning. And while the recipient will most likely shake their head in disbelief, then get on with their day, or, print it out and hang it up for the other Telstra vampires to have a laugh at, of course they will be missing the point.

You are all that is wrong with the world. You can't work for a company that hurts people, or that puts quarterly rises in profit above service delivery or even just being a human, and expect to be not tarred by the same brush.

Reply to>

Liam Wilkinson Senior Recruitment Specialist- Corporate

Careers Centre | Talent and OD | Human Resources

PHONE 03 8647 4302| FAX 03 950 5592

EMAIL liam.wilkinson@team.telstra.com | WEB careers.telstra.com

Hi Liam,

To confirm, you wish to purchase the following bikes-

Micargi Prado Deluxe

Nirve Switchblade

We are an ethical company that believes in putting people first. In this regard we operate and maintain a register of businesses that run counter to this ideal, and we under no circumstances deal with, or supply in any way those businesses. Telstra is, and always has been, at the top of this list. Also, anyone who works in or for human resources anywhere has no chance of being supplied by us.

I know this is very different to what you may be used to, but we don't believe the colour of everyone's money is the same. We promote freedom, honesty, and fun, and are one of the only businesses we are aware of that maintains those ideals above all others. We're happy to make money, however selectively. Choppers are cool...we keep them that way.

As long as unethical businesses rape the public interest and harm individuals, the people who work for or in those businesses should create and enjoy their own subculture, because ours is not for sale. We keep our prices low, and profit through quantity of turnover.

If you'd like to sign up for a 24 month plan where you pay 100 times what the bike is worth, and receive a package of perceived value-added extras that are in fact worth 5 cents each, I'm sure we can put something together for you. We will then break this contract at our own discretion, remove your access to the bike, and refer you to a debt collection firm, for no reason other than "it just happens sometimes". We call this our 'Telstra package'. Alternatively, you may fill out a 6 page privacy-invading and mind numbing questionnaire/interview process where you have to tell us why you are the successful candidate for the bicycles in question. This is our HR discount deal, and is increasingly popular with people who like to lie and/or waste their time.

I know this transmission may be a humorous joke to you, but we take it seriously. You are evil by association...Go play golf.

Best- J. 'knifey' Vanderwerff.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

My corner of Armaggeddon.

2010-04-25T23:54:00.005+10:00

When I was growing up, I had so little.

That's OK, I know a lot of people who came up the same way. I also know a lot of people who never wanted for a thing (and they seem balanced and human).

So I'm not writing this to complain at all, but I have found it gives me perspective I have never read in the Wall Street Journal, on the front page of your local newspaper.

We all know that our ravenous desire for consumption makes it possible for the 1% that own and control Governments and Nations, the bankers, the stock market people, the legislators, to control us. And if we don't, we should. The founding fathers of America warned us of the evil of "European banking cartels", even Jimmy Carter addressed the nation about it. It's nothing new, it's no big secret. It's just peoples psychotic need for comforting words that keep the volume down. The vil is real, the Devil isn't below, he's at the investment firm.

These people who tempt us with shiny things, bigger TV's, cars, luxury. We borrow to buy these things, and they raise the interest rates, trapping us. They take a lot of our money, and they end up keeping whatever it was we bought with it too. We lose houses through refinancing, all in the name of a socially acceptable greed.

So we trap ourselves, yes. But they write the small print in ways that if you could unravel the actual meaning, they would give you a job on Wall Street, for your demonstrated and rare brilliance.

One side of me hates this 1%, as anyone who has been trapped by debt may. Anyone who has been laid off from a job, who hasn't received the wage they're owed, or the benefits promised. Just fired so the heads of the company can get more of a bonus, more cream from your labour. They even take out insurance policies you are legally unable to discover, so they can make money from your death, while your family may get no assistance whatsoever.

The other side of me respects them. As evil and short sighted as they are, there is no denying their tactical brilliance, their mental acuity, their political mastery. I respect Hitler for his oratorial finesse also. But I don't support any of them. They are evil, they are against us, and they are hurting and killing not only us, but the one planet we have to live on, all in the name of short term payouts, of greed.

It's funny how they are known as the 1%, but in biker culture, which I have always been close to, a 1%er is an original outlaw. A Hells Angel, a Bandido- an outsider to society. Someone who may have come home from war so disillusioned with the society that raised them, that they cut off ties, and committed to their brothers in the club instead. The men (and sometimes women), who understood the big picture. It's funny, because, these people in motorcycle clubs are generally reviled (with good reason- they are a reaction, and far from perfect themselves), but they are the ones who a bit over halfway through last century saw the world the way we're only now starting to.

And the 1% now, the outlaws, are the men in suits, the Government, Big money, and the police who support them. Bikers aren't feared like they used to be. They're so like us!

I'm not a hippie, or even much of a greenie. I did my time organising non violent direct actions for the benefit of the environment, and left because of the same stupid politics that keeps us all tied down in the real world. People are people, after all. It's no longer considered to be a conspiracy theory when you say your Government only cares for itself, and those that line its pockets.

It's just how things are now, now we've opened our eyes.

Like I said, I grew up poor. And my whole life, I dreamed of becoming a capitalist too. That's the promise, isn't it? That if you struggle for long enough, you can do it too!

Well, you can't. You can't if you're the majority of the people, at the bottom of the pyramid scheme of capitalism.

And I wanted my turn. So badly. I wanted to walk into a showroom and buy a Hummer, and pay in cash. And I wanted to drive that motherfucker all over the country- free. And I'm fucking angry I don't get to do that, because my generation is the one left holding the bag. My generation is the one that has to do all the changing. because the generations before me got to do all of those things, and the generations after will never know them.

When I was an idealistic teenager, I used to ask myself "How did things get this way?" I used to fantasize that one day, it would be me and my friends, that take over control of the world. And we'd stop pollution, and deforestation, and murder, and everything that is wrong with us.

I thought of it like a changing of the guard, like we'd be given the keys to the world by our evil parents and overlords, and we'd make everything right.

But it wasn't like that...it was an insidious and gradual decay. A decay where we all became infected by the same disease the old guard were dying from. Greed.

We were promised houses and cars (and with the advent of reality TV- superstardom as well!), we were co-opted into the mindset. Greed would get us there, and the more we fucked over our fellow people, the further we'd get. You want a big screen TV, right? It's just a shame there's so little to actually watch any more.

So we're the ones who the change falls upon. That's our changing of the guard. They leave, through OUR sacrifice. We give up on the dream, and embrace having less so others can have more. Not the fat cats, they leave with all the money. It's us that go without, so those who never had actually have a chance at getting something.

And I don't mind having to do it. I see it as an exciting opportunity actually- to engineer this world in a positive way for everyone. To for the first time, promote real freedom, but freedom with responsibility. For everyone to have a house, a job, health care, and for the planet to not have to suffer. It's all exciting, and I look forward to the opportunity.

But I still mourn the old, unsustainable lie. I still regret the fact I never rode in a private jet, or owned multiple residences. Wrong and stupid, I know, but that's never stopped me from admitting anything else on this blog, has it?

The middle class are disappearing. Dying out. Soon enough it will be rich, and poor, and that's it. The middle class was, and only ever was, a vehicle for the super rich to own more of the pie chart. They're almost done with the middle class, and so it has to go. They don't have a long term game plan. They're grabbing for as much of the money, world, and security as they can get, and they'll disappear behind very high walls that you paid to build, while you shit in the street.

It's not happening in 30 years, it's been happening all this time, and it's coming to a head. The end really is nigh. Soon people will be choosing sides, and selling each other out just to eat a meal. Society will be over. And millions of people will die from starvation, ill health, murdered.

It's hard to imagine when you're walking down Chapel Street to get a coffee, isn't it? It's hard to get your head around the fact we're simply running out of everything we need to survive. We're propping up unsustainable populations, and we still think there's room, that we have some fucking universal right to breed?!

We don't.

We ship food IN, there are too many of us to survive here, once order has been eliminated. The planet is past the brink, it's just going to get hotter and hotter, even if we cease all emissions now. The damage has been done, and just because you have a job and food in the cupboard today, doesn't mean you will have either of those things tomorrow.

If you've read this far, you have a mind for enquiry. If you've read this far, you already have thoughts and opinions. I respect both, even if they are against mine. At least you're searching.

I just wish I knew a way to get all those who haven't read this far to be more like you. To unplug the TV and stop giving a fuck what celebrity is doing what with whom. It's all a distraction from the rust underneath us...the crack in the dam.

I believe everything will change in my lifetime. So much already has. But I believe I'm going to see this all come down.

And when that happens, we will all cry aloud- "Why didn't we begin to think critically sooner?"

It will be more spectacular than any season finale of 'Lost', I promise you that. But at the end, whoever is left standing, will get to start again (just like Rome). They get the change to do it right this time, and to build over the mass graves of the rest of us, something worth living for.

And if they don't the cycle will just repeat again, like it always has. Until we, the people of Earth, finally realise the only way to live and know freedom, is to help one another.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Don't be frightened, it's just fashion.

2010-04-16T05:35:00.005+10:00

I just wanted to say, as much as I enjoy blabbing about my life on here, or writing fiction (whichever comes first), I have fallen in love with Polyvor!

I'll be spending a lot of time over there I think, stop by if you're into fashion and add me if you're there already?

My profile is here.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.