On Oxford Street getting some lunch just now, I saw this young woman, perhaps in her early 20s, screeching into her mobile phone, highly agitated and very off her rocker on something obviously recently consumed. Something naughty. Walked past (while keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact) and tried not to laugh as she screamed:

NO! I am a fucking CUNT, you fucking CUNT! Don’t FUCKEN interrupt me! I AM A FUCKING MORON, A FUCKING DIPSHIT, A FUCKING CUNT AND YOU KNOW IT!!! … WHAT THE FUCK!! I MEANT YOU ARE A FUCKING MORON, A FUCKING CUNT, A FUCKKKKKKING SHITHEAD, not me. I meant you all along, YOU FUCKING STUPID DOG!

So, I’ve blogged about this before, as has Scott. The proposed Islamic school in Camden, the resulting outpouring of xenophobia and hypocrisy, and the publicity given to this stupid bint. Oh yeah, and bleatings about some fucking cemetary.

Yesterday in the SMH, there was a report about the appeal against council’s decision, with some familiar names, as well as new ones, making some bloody awful bigoted statements. Again. In fact, I was struck by how paranoid these freaks sound. There seems to be a new level of hysteria in their ridiculous statements.

Check them out. From the aforementioned stupid bint, Kate McCulloch:

…said she was “no redneck xenophobic racist like the media have put to me”.

“Let’s start making people understand that the Western way of life is the best way of life,” she said.

Yeah, well, she’s not exactly reaching out to them to make them “understand”. There are so many other things wrong with that statement as well: the “Western way of life” is undefinable, for one. Second, it’s subjectively not the “best way of life” – maybe for her it is but it’s not for everyone. Third, many Muslims live in the West. So what? I really don’t get her at all.

Moving on.

Judith Bond said the school would teach war and how to kill.

“Values of violence will be emphasised. It will be a breeding ground for terrorists … There will be a surge of gang rapes, looting and attacking infidels,” Ms Bond said.

I don’t even need to comment on this. Its utter stupidity and offensiveness speaks for itself.

Next.

The area’s Christian values were threatened by the proposal, said another resident, John Waterhouse, who warned Christmas decorations and nativity scenes would be “pulled down or withdrawn on some sort of process of religious nit-picking”.

Describing Camden as “the mouse that dared to roar”, he said he did not want prayer mats unrolled in shops or “[our] teenage daughters subjected to demeaning taunts wearing jeans, shorts or T-shirts”.

I really don’t know where to start with this one… Or maybe I’m just feeling sicker and sicker with the blatant bigotry and ignorance.

But on the opening day of the appeal to the Land and Environment Court on Tuesday, council’s barrister, Craig Leggat, SC, opened his evidence with a letter signed by a group of the region’s Christian leaders, who said Islam was an ideology with a plan for world domination.

Hang on, I thought traditionally it was the Jews who were planning world domination? Has anyone notified ZOG about this?

Come on, Camden. You can be better than this.

So, this morning I’m rushing from the train station through the city to work, already 10 minutes late, when a young well-dressed guy in his 20s looks at me while I look at him and stops me to ask me something. I thought I heard wrong, so I stopped and said, “Pardon?”

He repeats himself, “Would you like to work in the District Court?” and starts pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was folded piece of paper that looked like a single A4 sheet.

Before I could utter, “What the fuck?” I hear the green pedestrian lights start beeping and I say “No, sorry, not interested.”

Not interested? NOT INTERESTED?!

OF COURSE I WAS INTERESTED! I wanted to know what the hell he was on about. I wanted to know why he was stopping random chicks on the streets asking if they want to work in the District Court. I wanted to know what the work consisted of. I wanted to know why the job wasn’t advertised on Seek.com.au. I wanted to know what was on that piece of paper. I wanted to know how much money he was offering and if it was good money, I wanted to know if I’d be tempted.

But stupid me ran across the street because I didn’t want to wait another 5 minutes for the green light, and cursed at myself all the way through Hyde Park, wishing I had stayed and probed him for more information.

So, I’m leaving it up to you, GrodsReaders. You’re all (supposedly) smart people.  Any ideas what this guy meant when he asked, “Would you like to work in the District Court?” And what was on the piece of paper?

So, I’m on the train home this evening and I’m sending a text message to someone and I look up across the aisle and there’s this old, shabby-looking guy sitting there with an extinguished half-smoked cigarette hanging out of his left nostril.

So I was weekending in Sydney and its surrounds with my family just now, when I found myself in a Balmain pub for a few hours with my Dad, waiting for Robbie and J,The to show up. It was early on Saturday evening and the pub in which we drank was busy but not packed.

Suddenly a dozen uniformed police burst in with a sniffer dog, two cops guarding the door from the outside. The cops took the dog around to have a slurp at every single punter’s jeans while the cops looked around with suspicion. After doing a lap of the pub, during which time the dog-wrangling cop stopped the poor pooch from drinking a small puddle of beer on the floor, the cops disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived.

The weird thing was, the only people in the room who were a bit shocked by this were Dad and I. The locals seemed to regard it as totally normal for a Saturday night around the bars. Thing is, I lived in Sydney for three years at the end of last century and I don’t remember such events back then.

Is this normal, Sydneysiders?

Calloo, callay. As of today I am not working for a while. I have another gig starting in the new year, but I thought I’d give myself a month or so of R and R, so I left my previous job yesterday. No gold watch was proffered, but I did get a bottle of scotch, which you’ll agree is better than a poke in the eye.

Last night I celebrated the only way I know how to celebrate anything – with hard liquor and late-night television. My housemate is a journo so we had to watch the frikkin Walkley awards, which was undoubtedly the least-entertaining broadcast I’ve seen in some time – there weren’t even any punch-ups. I have a dim memory of that abomination giving way to a repeat of the Seinfeld where George won’t give out his PIN number. Then came beautiful, beautiful unconsciousness.

I was woken at about 10AM by the noise of the primary school nearby, and was reminded why leftists hate children. Then I just kinda trundled down the road for breakfast at the Fine Australian Cafe with the Fine Internet Hotspot. And that’s where you find me. Whiling away the morning, watching the passing parade of Newtown, and wondering WTF to do for the rest of the day.

The last time I wasn’t working, studying or both for such an extended period was back during one of the deliberately-engineered recessions of noted Stalinist and PC Thought Policeman Paul Keating. In those days, being unemployed was easy. All that was required was scrawling a crude X on a photocopied form once a fortnight, dropping it in the slot by the door of the DSS, waking up the next afternoon and spending it all in a giddy rush on cask wine, No Frills Frozen Burger Patties and Holiday 50s. I won’t be engaging with the welfare system this time around, so I don’t even have that much to do. I’m flummoxed.

But things may be looking up soon. On Sunday, I’ll be departing for an extended sojourn at the Beloved’s family seat in country Tasmania. Fresh air, big sky, farm animals. They even have broadband, so I might post some piccies here. But even that doesn’t sound very busy.

Still, I’m sure it will all be fine. Think about it. A between-jobs blogger from Queensland retreats to a rural area, armed with nothing but limitless spare time, an Internet connection, access to a Wordpress blog and a head full of opinions. What could possibly go wrong…

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.

The best thing about APEC Summits is seeing what ridiculous get-ups world leaders have to don for a photo op. More often than not, they have to wear something so bloody awful that it induces howls of “OH MY GOD!!! I WOULD NEVER BE SEEN DEAD IN THAT!!!” among ordinary folks like you and me, who will never been seen dead in these outfits because… well, let’s face it, we’re either too poor to rig an election or just simply born lucky.

Anyway, remember last year’s APEC Summit in Sydney and the embarrassingly god awful Drizabones that the world leaders had to pretend to be extremely thrilled to be seen in?

Renowned fashion icon John Howard made the Drizabone decision, “with counsel and good advice” from his wife Janette Howard and the APEC 2007 Taskforce. You remember Lil Johnny, right? This happy chappy:

Do you recall his haute couture sense now?

Anyway, yeah, that’s the guy who was responsible for those raincoats at APEC 07:

But really, were the Drizabones any better than the ponchos served at this year’s APEC Summit in Peru, I ask you?

The Drizabones don’t look so bad after all, do they?

Miranda called it right – the minute bong-zombie Barack Obama was elected the war on drugs went up in smoke:

New South Wales farmers are being encouraged to start growing industrial hemp.

The Government recently passed legislation allowing the plant to be grown for use in products ranging from bio-fuel to dog food…

Mr Macdonald says hemp growth could become a lucrative industry for NSW.

“Already we’ve had over 200 farmers express interest in growing hemp across the state,” he said.

“It could become quite a significant crop in a very short period of time, particularly as various companies utilise the products of it for that broad range of products that can be created using industrial hemp as a base.”

The use of hemp in dog food might put smiles on the faces of pensioners, but at what cost? Imagine, with Miranda, what rural New South Wales will soon look like.

Perfect headline, isn’t it? Politics, shit and sweets, all rolled up in one irresistible package, promising a tale that couldn’t possibly disappoint.

And it doesn’t.

The short version of the story, just in case any Andrew Bolt readers have stumbled by (we all know you imbeciles don’t bother reading links), is that a woman kicked up a fuss over seating at a pub function and was allegedly given a free bowl of poo-smeared ice cream as a “placatory gesture”.

I worked in the hospitality industry for many years and saw some horrendous things (and heard of worse) … but this despicable act would take the chocolates, so to speak.

Anyway, here’s the bit that really impressed me:

Ms Whyte said she realised something was amiss when she brought a spoonful to her lips and “the stench went through my nostrils”.

“I retched and spat it out into the napkin,” she told News Ltd.

Notice the missing sentence between those two? I imagine it went something like this:

“SO I TOOK A BITE ANYWAY…”

Fair. Fucking. Dinkum. What would have to have been on this woman’s ice cream to dissuade her from putting a spoonful into her gob?

The other evening, waiting for my train at Central Railway Station, I happened to glance over my shoulder and saw this woman looking over the bowed, bald head of her partner .

Ouch, I thought, he must’ve scratched his bonce or something. Nice of her to check on it… Oh wait, what’s she doing?

Moving one step sideways for a better look, I realised with sudden horror that she was, in fact, trying to pop a pimple on his pastule ridden cranium.

Ergh.

Here we go again. Camden makes the news for all the wrong reasons. This time it’s not about the Islamic school proposal that got knocked back, but about a cemetery. Yeah, a cemetery.

AN ISLAMIC cemetery will be built in the grounds of a historic Anglican graveyard near Camden where plans for an Islamic school were rejected this year following fierce community opposition.

The Lebanese Muslim Association paid $1.5 million for the St Thomas Anglican Cemetery at Narellan in July. The site has space for almost 4000 bodies and will help overcome an acute shortage of gravesites in Sydney.
(source)

Fair enough. I can’t see why anyone would object to Muslims paying a substantial amount of money for a bit of land in which to bury their dead, just like the Anglicans do. Shows that even Muslims honour their dearly parted ones. *gasp!*

Except for this moron, going by the name of Len English, who claims to have 33 relatives buried at the cemetery. He gives a history of who the relatives are and how they came to be buried in Camden but I’m not going to repeat that here, because frankly, I don’t give a rat’s arse about his dead rellos.

He does say this dopey statement: “The Friends of St Thomas did all they could to save the cemetery and even approached council to see if they could help in the purchase of the site from the Anglican church. The church had no right to sell the cemetery land in the first place.”

They had no right? Says who, Len? The Anglican Church owned that land, they can sell it if they want. End of story. Stop quibbling over something that doesn’t belong to you and your “Friends of St Thomas” mates.

Then he goes on to say this, pretending to be OK with “migrants” but effectively exposing himself for the racist bigot at the same time: “I’ve got nothing against migrants but when they want to take over your cemetery…”

Boo fucking hoo!

Oooh yeah, the migrants, the big, bad scary migrants who are taking over a bit of land! Besides, they haven’t taken over the cemetery, you fucking tool; they’ve BOUGHT a VACANT tract of land, LEGALLY! But wait! What if they were, say, Pommy or Kiwi migrants? Or is it because these “migrants” that Len refers to are Muslim? And besides, how does he know they’re “migrants”? Could there be a possibility that many Muslims are actually Australian born and bred, Lenny? I am in awe of his ability to know these things by drawing upon his own intolerant assumptions.

Seriously, what is it with Camden lately? I know not all Camden-ites are bigoted but this is just unbelievable. When will turds like Len English, Emil Sremchevich and Kate McCulloch realise that notions such as “heritage” is ever-changing, ever-evolving and always malleable? And what are the bets that Mr English and his mates would object to, say, a Catholic, Jewish or Wampanoag Indian burial plots next to the Anglican plots?

So there I am, rushing through Hyde Park after work to the train station this evening, when I suddenly stop, ears alert, eyes darting back and forth and scanning the dark bushes beside me. There had been a groan. I know it. I heard it. It sounded like an animal in pain. Oh no! I hate hurting animals, being the bleeding heart, tree-hugging lefty that I am.

Gingerly, I push past through the bush, breathing heavily now because I suddenly realise that I am being really stupid because I have no idea what to expect and what if the animal jumps at me ’cause it’s hurt and frightened and there’s no time for me to pull out my phone to call for help and what if my face is shredded apart by said unknown animal and why is it so dark in this part of Hyde Park goddammit?

Peering behind the big old fig tree, I soon find out. It wasn’t an animal. It was two animals. They weren’t in pain. They were screwing each other. Doggy style. They were, in fact, humans. Two well-dressed, business looking idiots who obviously decided they could not wait any longer. Or perhaps it was a fetish and it was something that got them off. I don’t know how else to explain it. But you know… whatever floats their boat. Or gets them off, if they don’t have a boat.

The woman looks up, startled, and I see my startled reflection in her face. The man looks up, barely comprehending that there was now a third party, a ménage à trois of sorts, if you like. I think he was at the end of his own version of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. You know, the climatic volley of cannon fire and chiming bells. If you get my drift.

“Oh!Iamsosorrypleasedocarryondon’tletmeinterruptyousorrysorrysorry!” I dribble in a hurry as I stumble backwards, out of the bushes. And fled. Fled to the train station, trying my hardest not to laugh, past the Federal Court, past NSW Parliament House, past the State Library, before heading down Martin Place to catch the train.

Eventually, I get home and the first thing I do? Blog it. Dear readers, should you ever take a walk through Sydney’s Hyde Park, stop for NOTHING.

Unless, of course, your particular fetish is voyeurism. In which case, welcome to Sydney.

The other day, The Editor lamented racism and bigotry implicitly and explicity rearing their ugly heads again after Camden Council voted unanimously to oppose a proposal to build an Islamic school on the outskirts of the town, south-west of Sydney, “on planning grounds alone”.

Local resident and bigot, Kate McCulloch, caught media attention with her garish green and yellow dress and an abominable Akubra adorned with Australian flags, as well as her openly prejudiced remarks, such as:

We don’t want [Muslims] not only here, we don’t want them in Australia. They’re an oppressive society, they’re a dictatorship… The ones that come here oppress our society, they take our welfare and they don’t want to accept our way of life.

Days later, she’s back in the news. The Sydney Morning Herald has interviewed her (why?), and her comments reveal a cretinous dimwit who is now talking about following the footsteps of Pauline Hanson and entering politics. Says she:

“Look, scores of people are coming up to me and saying, ‘Good on you, Kate … you’re saying what we’re too scared to ‘cos of racial vilification laws, but we all think it.’ I would like to keep our place like it is and I guess [joining the] Liberals would be natural,”

She conveniently forgets — or doesn’t know — that Pauline Hanson was kicked out of the Liberal Party for her extremist racist views.

Having said that, however, the Liberal Party is still nevertheless home to many other bigots. The most recent notable being fomer Immigration Minister Kevin Andrews. The Age today writes that a confidential Immigration Department report (obtained under Freedom of Information laws) found that racial harassment of Africans increased following Andrews’ claims in 2007 that they were engaged in crime and failing to integrate.

Desperate political point-scoring at its most detestable. And Kate McCulloch might find a home within the Liberal Party after all.

Anyway, back to Mad Kate. She makes another bizarre comment about the “victory vote” by Camden Council:

She said the victory vote was in keeping with the spirit of Camden’s status as the birthplace of the nation’s wool industry. “The Macarthurs will be proud of us,” she said.

Huh? What’s the wool industry got to do with any of this?

What else did she say?

“I want Muslims in Australia to attend our schools so their children can grow up with our values, and more importantly, so that their mothers can meet Australian mums and see how they don’t have to put up with the sort of treatment they sometimes endure.”

Meanwhile, across all geographic areas of Australia and in all socioeconomic and cultural groups, a conservatively estimated 36% of women experience domestic violence and a conservatively estimated 19% of women experience sexual assault (2005). And they’re just the women who report the assaults, with God knows how many more going unreported.

Oh, but Mad Kate conveniently ignores that. Only Moozlim women are under some kind of terrible “treatment”.

And what does Pauline Hanson think of this new myopic ignoramus upstart?

The Herald called Mrs Hanson about her would-be successor. She hung up without offering a word.

O come, all ye bigots, I shall be your racist mouthpiece.

Note: a bigger article about Mad Kate and the Camden outrage, plus the lead-up to the vote and the involvement of racist groups such as Australia First and the Anglo-Australian National Community Council and their cowardly midnight actions can be found here.

This is a propaganda message from Comrade Bron. All you other non-NSW residents (and NSW union/lefty haters) carry on playing with your Fleshlights.

COMMUNITY RALLY – SATURDAY 3rd MAY 2008

TELL THE IEMMA GOVERNMENT – NO!

Join concerned workers and families who want to stop the NSW State Government trying to sell our electricity to a private company. Come and join the Rally outside the NSW ALP Conference.

WHERE: Darling Harbour, Convention Centre (near Olympic monument)
WHEN: 9:30 am Saturday 3 May 2008

The electricity anti-privatisation Rally will be followed by the MAY DAY RALLY AND PROCESSION.

* Stop the Sell Off of public utilities
* Demand rights at work for all workers
* Demand social justice for workers around the world

www.stoptheselloff.org.au