So we’ve all pretty much heard about the dopey British backpacker who survived 12 days lost in the Blue Mountains, Jamie Neale, by now, yeah? It’s a wonderful relief that he’s been found, it goes without saying. He’s a very lucky lad.

And that should be the end of that, right? He goes back home to England and recuperates fully and resumes normal life, right?

Oh no. Not at all. Don’t be so fuckin’ naive, Bron, for this is the day and age of instant “celebrity” and round-the-clock, in-your-face media exposure. Timespan of everyone wanting a piece of your arse: usually a week.

Thus I was shitty when I saw the headline on the SMH website, “Jamie Neale stands to make a fortune”.

Shitty because I really need to make an instant fortune and it was him who gets the money and I don’t.

Seriously, though, it’s shitty because everyone is getting fiscally rewarded and instant “celebrity” for mishaps, accidents, and just generally getting caught up in the vicissitudes of life.

Shit happens.

And who the hell are these celebrity agents? The dude’s just come out of the bush after 12 days and is recovering in hospital and he’s already signed up to a celebrity agent? Do celebrity agents hang around hospital corridors waiting for the next “big” story to be wheeled past in a gurney? There is just something sordid about the speed at which Jamie and his dad were snapped up by a “celebrity” agent.

I, for one, won’t be reading or watching any interviews. I know the story, I know what happened, and I know how it ended. I don’t need a complete rehash and deconstruction of The Boy Who Was Lost in the Bush for 12 Days. I’m just glad he’s been found safe and sound. And that’s that.

• …you put on your trousers and one end of the drawstring has slipped into the waist area and you can’t fish it out and your trousers are then too loose and the other end of the drawstring is flapping around all day?
• …there’s nothing to watch on daytime TV because you’re home with the flu so you end up watching Dr Phil and The View then regret it?
• …people expectorate on the footpath and you can’t help but notice the big puddle of sputum with all its bubbles and greenish slimy texture?
• …you open Grods and there’s a post titled “Bronwyn’s hypocrisy” and you immediately wonder why Scott’s sold you out (or me, in this case)?
• …your head’s been full of snot and flu for the past two weeks so how will you know if you’ve got swine flu?
• …you’re so bored that you end up making whiney posts that people will regret reading?

Additional:

• …you post your post then see several mistakes and keep updating repeatedly?

Ant Rogenous: Do you want to have sex?

E Rogenous: No.

Pwned.

This evening I announced to all and sundry on Facebook that I have finally decided what I’m going to do with my stimulus money — if I ever get it. (Memo to Rudd: Hurry the fuck up and gimme the money!)

The responses I got in return were surprising, ranging from “Are you insane?” to “Weirdo” to “I don’t think that’s what Rudd had in mind”.

So, what is it that I am going to do with my filthy lucre, dear GrodsReaders? Well, I’ve decided to go…

SKYDIVING!!!!1!!

Big freakin’ deal, huh?

Thing is, it’s entirely justified: skydiving is bloody expensive and I’ve been wanting to do it for years, but could never justify the money (or, more likely, never had enough money). Besides, Kevin didn’t tell me HOW I should spend it, did he? Or if he did, I must’ve missed it — possibly deliberately.

I figure I’ll be in Byron Bay in July on what seems to be becoming an annual pilgrimage there (yeah, lefty greenie hippy country… makes sense, don’t it?) and I might as well jump out of an aeroplane while I’m at it.

Is that insane? Weird? Wrong?

Has anyone got their money yet, out of curiousity? And would you spend a portion of it on skydiving?

A couple of weeks ago at chez Bron, I attempted to make a Mississippi Mud Pie and the results were just so bloody spectacular, I had to take photos for posterity (and brag about it with a few people on Facebook).

A few moments ago, I was asked by a friend in an email why I hadn’t shared these photos with you dear GrodsReaders. I was accused of being embarrassed by my efforts.

Well, actually, I’m not embarrassed. I don’t know why I haven’t shared the photos with GrodsReaders yet. But it’s NOT BECAUSE I’M EMBARRASSED, OKAY?!!?

So, dear GrodsReaders, I present my (in)famous Mississippi Mud Pie effort (warning: any sniggering means instant banning):

That empty wine glass had nothing to do with any of this.

Note the recipe book top left. That’s how it was supposed to look.

I was only trying to flip the stupid thing over. Not my fault; I followed the recipe instructions.

Anyway, it was still edible and my friend and I spent a pleasant evening picking at it.

And at least the fucking lasagne worked just fine.

Mis dedos! Mis dedos! Por el amor de Dios, ¿DÓNDE ESTÁN MIS DEDOS!!1!

Oh, está bien … aquí están. 

A fortnight ago a young woman from Perth climbed out on the sodden wing of the Airbus A320 floating on the Hudson River. The shock of near-death might’ve overwhelmed some of us but for this particular girl, it was as though all her Christmases had come at once.

Seems like Emma Cowan - who uses the much sexier stage-name Emma Sophina – is a budding but mediocre singer, currently flitting around the world on a so-far fruitless quest for fame (having raised the funds by working for a WA mining company). Her Myspace gives hints of her long-running clamour for glamour:

Please vote for me to win a competition to sing with Steve Wonder…

No success though until that plane dunked and thrust Emma into the spotlight, which she’s been lapping up. Except the next day, when the meedja printed, like, embarrassing pictures of her rescue:

Emma Cowan … was more interested in the less-than-flattering pose she struck just moments after her rescue.

“Yeah, that’s me with my mouth open,” she joked of a picture that appeared in yesterday’s Post. “Nice yellow jacket and my mouth wide open. Can you imagine a worse photo to go around the world?”

Riiiight. No matter Emma… this is media-hungry America and you’re blonde, pretty and apparently a “devout Christian”, so there’s plenty willing to feed your ego:

Aussie singer Emma Sophina’s big dream has come true – she recorded a single that she wrote with a couple of big-time Grammy-winning producers. All she had to do was survive the crash of Flight 1549 in the Hudson River.

“It’s definitely a thank you for the pilots,” said Sophina, looking every inch the rocker in a black top and jeans, after she laid down the vocals at the studio of Tony Black and Mark Swersky on the Jersey Shore. “The song is called, ‘Send Another Prayer.’”

Swersky, who has written songs for Joe Cocker, Natalie Cole, Hilary Duff and other singers, said Sophina has caught the attention – and hopefully the ears – of big record companies.

I very much doubt it: I’ve heard this song and it’s a real steamer. Hint to Emma – if you want to thank the pilot, send him a card.

One year and one day ago, Kevin Rudd was elected Prime Minister of Australia. One year ago today, I had one of the worst hangovers ever, having watched the sun rise at Bondi Beach with union thugs and various Labor and Greens supporters and members after pulling an all-nighter at a few pubs across the city of Sydney.

In commemoration of this, I just want to post this aw-shucks-cute photo of Rudd in his younger days for your personal amusement only, not because I love Kevin Rudd (I don’t).

Once a nerd, always a nerd.

This morning I had a dentist appointment. Incidentally, the dentist’s name was Rob and I could see his face.

I don’t mind going to dentist. I’ll take whatever kind of pampering that I can. I don’t understand why some people hate going to the dentists — it’s not that bad. Is it?

Anyway, I had to get some fillings. So, I’m lying back on the surprisingly comfortable patient’s chair with my head resting on the surprisingly comfortable but noisy plastic pillow, my jaws wide apart as far as they could go with many bits of probing metal sticks and mirrors and whatnot in my mouth.

It was impossible to talk, obviously.

And thus you’d think a dentist would know that, wouldn’t you? You’d think they’d explain all their tools that they’re going to stick in your mouth (I realise some of you might see a rude joke in there) and discuss any possible pain or discomfort, before you’re pretty much voiceless.

Not this dentist. Rob. He tells me these things after I’m rendered literally speechless.”This is a laser light that will super charge water particles in dental tissues… Understand?”

Lying there on my back, mouth gaping wide open, I try to respond that no, I have no fucking idea what he’s on about, but I don’t care, just get those fillings in. As it is impossible to tell him this, I make a gurgled sound like “gnnhk” and slightly nod my head.

“Good. And this red light is the laser, it’s not harmful and won’t hurt your tissue,” he continues. “See the red light?”

Again, I can’t respond vocally, and also I can’t even see what fucking red light he’s talking about, because he had it out of my line of sight, the dopey bastard. I raise my head slightly, look down and peer beyond those ugly black glasses they make you wear and see the red light beaming out of some metal electronic stick he’s holding. I try to answer “Yes, I see it now!” but not only am I still rendered voiceless, I am also unable to convey my sarcasm that was growing rapidly. Again, I just nod slightly and make a noise, “gerrrnk”.

Then he holds up something else and says, in a slightly awed voice, “And this is similar to the traditional dentist drill, except it’s not. That’s why we don’t need to use anaesthetics, as this is groundbreaking laser dentristy work! It’s not radioactive either!”

By then, I’m ready to plead for anaesthetic, just to numb me from my aching jaw, my dry throat and lips, my inability to respond as well as my inability to tell him to get a fucking move on!

Then there’s a knock on the door, and it’s the other dentist, with a small “emergency” on a patient he’s working. Rob apologises, he and his dental nurse withdraw all their objects from my mouth and he rushes off into the other dental room. Gingerly, I close my jaws shut, try to find some saliva from somewhere and lie there, traumatised already with nothing actually being done yet to my teef.

Rob comes back shortly and asks, “Now, want me to go through any of that again?”

You fucking bastard, I thought. Now you ask, when I have the ability to speak. “No, I’m OK. Let’s begin, shall we?” I suggest politely.

And 30 minutes later, I was out of there, with two new fillings, $355 poorer and a newfound pathological hatred for dentists.

I was surprised to find this whilst browsing the shelves at my local bookshop this afternoon:

If SBS ever make a biopic about the failed political career of Dr. Brendan Nelson, it would be called Terms Of Contradiction and it would be directed by the guy who directed Lift Off. I’m sure he needs the work.

Pensioners need an increase to the pension. Of this, there is no doubt. Brendan Nelson is calling for an extra $30 a week. Again, that would be a good start.

But did you know there are one million pensioners? That’s an extra $30 million a week, or a projected $1.3 billion a year. Suddenly, it’s not looking so easy. Where is that money supposed to come from?

Then Nelson (with the help of his party, and other undistinguished amateurs) had to go and oppose the luxury car tax, thereby stopping money from coming in that could have gone to the pensioners in need.

I see Brendan Nelson is a beginner to this whole socialism thing.

You see:

1. Taxes fund services.

2. Less tax = less services.
I’ve noted before the contradiction of the Liberals over pensioners, which is similar to that of farmers. Socialism is bad and wrong except when it comes to those two groups.

Brendan, I know you were a member of the Labor party for years but maybe it’s time to remember what party you’re on. I mean, if those old folk didn’t save enough superannuation, let them rot.

When I was on holidays recently, I went out to dinner to some restaurant in the middle of Byron Bay. I have no recollection of what the restaurant was called or what I ate, because, you know, it’s Byron Bay… Far North Coast of NSW. Near Nimbin. Age of Aquarius. Hippy land. Geddit?

So, this morning on the train to work, having forgotten to bring a book to read again and having the seat to myself, I had nothing to read, not even other people’s books or newspapers or notes. I figured I might as well browse through my photo gallery on my mobile phone. It was with some surprise that I discovered a photo I’d taken of some graffiti on the wall in the dunny of the aforementioned Byron Bay restaurant (the more I stared at this photo, the more certain, ahh, events came back to me). Obviously it made such an impression (read: made me giggle like mad) that I had to take a photo of it to remind myself later on.

It said:

Here I sit,

Broken hearted.

Tried to shit

But only farted.

Tell me there’s no way you would have not laughed had you seen that in Byron Bay.

UPDATE: Apparently this is an oldie. Can I just say that it’s not old to me, because I’ve never heard it before. So, it’s a new one. OK? Good.

So long, my friend. We had a lot of good times together.

Helloooooooo sailor.

Hello, I’m John Surname from the highly unpopular Random Brainwave. The Editor invited me to write for this site, and how could I resist?

To begin, I’d like to tell you something.

I’m a lefty.

No, don’t recoil in horror. I am wearing pants. I do not have dreadlocks.

The most surprising part about being on the left is the realisation that people on the right know more about your views than you do:

From A Wanker’s Habitat:

It was a matter of time before the threatened Left sat down and started thinking up ways to muzzle the free blogosphere. The rule of the elite minority attempts to silence the voice of the people yet again.

That’s too rational and intelligent for me to touch.

Then I realised something shocking – she’s right. I’m all about stifling free speech. So, for the first time I intend to outline the truths of the Left, which will come as no surprise to those brave, free-thinking rebels on the right who still deny global warming – what do scientists know anyway?

1. Free speech

We hate free speech. Personally, I really hate it when people disagree with me. The only thing that takes my mind off it is polishing my framed picture of David Hicks. So, we did something really clever here. We encouraged terrorism so that the governments of the world would introduce laws that stifle freedoms – so we don’t have to introduce these laws ourselves! This was a brilliant manouvere. It doesn’t matter that “the people” want to end the war, and that “the people” want the government to do something about global warming. We intend to stifle everyone, even those who agree with us. But especially those who don’t.

2. Multiculturalism

We embrace multiculturalism – why? So that the pure blood of anglo-saxons mixes with the impure blood of everyone else. That way we become one big brown race that loses it’s perfect white values, and adopts uncivillised “African” values. The left wants this, as it’s another way of controling the minds of everyone. Hey, I’m half New Guinean and look at me! It’s not possible to be only half Anglo AND conservative. Try it!

3. Global Warming

Andrew Bolt and his enlightened followers are right. Global Warming is one big religious scam. GrodsCorp personally payed off each and every one of the 2500 scientists of the ICPP report. Why? So that we can destroy the economies of the world’s top countries and plunge the entire planet into the darkness of evil socialism. Hooray!

4. Groupthink

Groupthink is wonderful. It means we don’t have to think for ourselves. We hate that. Instead, we let some socialist/hippie from Warrandyte choose our views for us. The best thing about engaging in groupthink is that you make lots of friends, and everyone likes you. Except Andrew Bolt, and wasn’t he an ex-leftie groupthinker anyway? Maybe that’s why he’s so bitter about the left. Or maybe it’s simply because he went forward in time and read this post.

5. We hate America

Everyone on the left hates America, without question. We all want to bring down Uncle Sam – why? Because….um….America makes us SO MAD!!! They’re like….RICH and we’re, like, not. Or whatever. I’ve got the munchies, I’m going to McDonald’s.

6. We love terrorism

We love religious extremeists pointlessly killing innocent people because they hate America, and we hate America, so by default, we love extremeists!

7. We’re cowards

Yeah, we’re cowards. We don’t oppose war because we are inherently opposed to the idea of senselessly fighting other people’s battles, or looking for fantasy weapons. We’re opposed to war because we’re yellow-bellied and don’t want to be killed in some god-forsaken desert. We might get sand in our weed!

Sure, there is a lot more I could say, but what I have written basically sums up the views of the hateful left. Now that you all know the truth, use it wisely. Even better, join us. You can’t beat us. At least be on the winning team for a change.