fried opium is fattening

“And we ask him to hop up on the table and lie down.” – Prison warden on the procedure for administering a lethal injection.

Hop? I’ll tell you right now, if they’re about to jab a needle in me and kill me there will be no hopping. They can fucking carry me.

For my last meal I’ll have a big plate of steamed opium.

And a Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup. Those are good.

What if you were deathly allergic to nuts and for a last meal you asked for a box of Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups, and you ate them and swelled up and turned purple and died from a combination of asphyxiation and anaphylactic shock whilst soiling your stripy prison pants. That’d show them.

They should make the death penalty being shot into space. I bet a lot more people would be interested. Far fewer appeals.

Really the only point in life is die in an interesting way. Just think, your bones would float in space for eons until they got sucked in by some distant gravity and burned up streaking across an alien sky while some little green kid made a wish for a new scooter and for mommy to not hit so much after she has her medicine.

I could live happily knowing I died like that.

Women packing their boxes

P4: The cat is in a box! That’s her box.
SJ: Uh, yes.
P4: It's a pussy box.
SJ: Let’s leave it at that.
Mrs. SJ: No, that’s my box. I'm going to use it later.
SJ: Don't you start.
P4: Aww, I want a box. A good one like Mum's.
SJ: (absent)

Dragon Eats Moon: 'bound to happen' - Scientists

Total lunar eclipse tonight. Makes you feel small, humble. I told the people at work if they weren’t nice to me I‘d have a dragon come and eat the moon tonight.

I’m expecting to find a virgin sacrifice when I get there tomorrow. And I want a new yellow highlighter.

#473

Did you break it yet? You’ve been working and worrying, bending and twisting that thing for so long. See it going white from stress? I heard it complain earlier. Heard it submitted a K-104 complaint form to head office. It’s ok, I intercepted it before it left and put it in an envelope marked Social Fund. You want my hammer?

It’s a 26 ounce framing hammer without, I repeat without, a knurled head. That knurling shit is for pussies. You can use it if you want but don’t get it all sweaty, I hate that. And don’t ever ever ever never throw it at me, even in fun. I hate that almost as much. I only like that sometimes.

Ahhh, but there you’ve broken it now. See the ragged edges where it tried to hold on? Careful, they’re sharp. They know the score. You should hit it some more for that. That’s the thing about breaking, the more you break the more there is to break. It can be hard work, the pieces get smaller. And there’s the paperwork, so confusing.

But you’ll work it out, you’ll see that for yourself. You keep that hammer until you get settled, get your feet. And ankles. You keep it as long as you need to but don’t you ever never throw it at me. We ain’t like that.

Canary In A Cardboard Box

The pile of cardboard boxes in the kitchen, waiting to be packed, spoke…

P4: You can’t see me.
SJ: No I can’t.
P4: (giggle)
SJ: Are you in that cardboard box?
P4: I’m in my palace.
SJ: Palace eh? You won’t want to move with us then, you’ll want your palace. We can set it up out back under the tree and you can live down there at the end of the garden.
P4: Nah. I think I want out now.
SJ: No, no you stay in your castle, your Majesty. It’s too common and average out here for someone as refined as you.
P4: No, really I want out.
SJ: What’s the matter? Lonely all by yourself in that big empty mansion?

P4: No, I farted.

The Results

Well it's all over and sadly nobody has guessed the correct square, #8. Jutra and Exxy came closest with two squares each touching the actual location. Either Jutra was playing nice or he forgot about the Google placemark I sent him back when our offer was first accepted on the property. Because of this he wasn't going to win anyway. So once again Exxy wins another SJ contest (she routinely walked away with the music trivia contests we used to have). Exxy leave a comment if you want a postcard or small bag of heroin posted to you in California.







Thanks to everyone for playing. We move in 3 weeks. I may post a video tour then.

Time Grows Short (something in the water, no doubt)

We’ve had a late entry into the spot the baboon army compound contest by DKW, another of those 3 initial types. I think it means Don’t Know Which, perhaps in response to some question like “Fries or salad?”.

Only about 12 hours left to vote, don’t forget the new rules allowing 3 votes each. Don’t let Exxy and the Dr take up all the good squares.

Here’s a last minute hint: Nobody has guessed it yet. Somewhere in here....

So far the only prize suggestion has been a postcard, so I’m thinking maybe that or a small bag of heroin. Tune in tomorrow, Australian Sunday, for the conclusion to this sad little contest.

One day, in a town full of people

Super Caught On Tape Real Extreme Video Uncut or something like that was on before. High speed chase….

Announcer: He’s refusing to stop! And he’s heading right for a town full of people!

Too bad it wasn’t a town full of bowling balls. That would have stopped him quick smart. But after going on a bit further with blown tires, our felon decides he can’t continue and sensibly pulls into a corner service station and slows, slows... and he's almost stopped and…. he’s… RAMMED in the driver’s door by a cop who then accelerates and pushes him sideways into the fuel pumps, knocking them over. As you might expect, but not the cop apparently, they promptly burst into flame, engulfing the car.

Through the dashboard camera we see frantic cops yipping at each other, running forward and retreating again calling “Get out of the car, man! Get out of the car.” Meanwhile in the background we see the occupants of a children’s dance school evacuating a nearby building, shuffling single file, hunched over like people running from a helicopter.

The ballerinas ran around the corner of the building no doubt to re-group and set up a firing line. Three of them were packing what looked to be an 8” mortar. Then I went to the kitchen and got some cake so I didn’t see how it ended. I’m sure nobody died. It was on TV. And ballerinas are lousy fucking shots.

Parisilla Queen of The Desert

Who gets to make up the names for military operations? Desert Storm, Desert Shield, Desert Pointy Stick. In the old days they named battles after the place it happened, Waterloo, Pearl Harbour, Compton. I guess if you want the public to get behind you these days you have to jazz it up a little.

Woke up earlier from my mid-week nap to find Paris and Nicole, some kids and a midget on TV. There was a porta-potty at one point. Fell asleep watching Family Guy and woke up to…well what the fuck is it? They’re just running down a list …

Paris tries to pitch a tent.
Paris feeds pigs.
Paris meets a midget.
Nicole acts bitchy.
Paris perfects cold fusion.

… and so on. At least her home video had a plot. A friend of mine who is a reasonable carpenter and dedicated pornography freak had a clip of that video. I noticed, among other things like breasts, the shots were inter-cut. That means either two cameras, or multiple takes, and editing afterwards either way. Poor thing, having to look all amateur shot after shot.

They will eventually send her to Iraq, Operation Desert Tediousness.

Paris drives a tank.
Paris eats army food.
Paris clears a mine field.
Nicole acts bitchy.

Paris establishes a stable Middle East region by buying everyone cowboy hats.

bricks were invented in 1958

Exxy, also known as GPG (Get Pirate Gold? Go Pinch Gilbert? Gather People’s Garters?) and a charter compound member, has decided everybody should get 3 guesses in the find the baboon compound contest. So be it.

Been raining here and the crick’s getting high. Just the other day they said we’re still partly in drought. I guess not this part because the roads are washing away. They don’t build them very well in NSW. Not like those Queensland roads, they got nice roads there. And bananas. Lotta bananas and pineapples and sugar cane and Great Barrier Reefs. Well they only have one of those but it’s a pretty good one. Very reefy.

P3 and P4 both won State Championships for cheerleading with their respective teams and are going to Nationals in September. I’m hoping this will help them achieve my dream for them, to be stunt women in an independent film about cheerleaders who have to fight nazi space alien terrorists. I need some squibs.

I’m watching a documentary on the history of the brick. I know. I gotta slow down.

#464

Well we can’t sit around playing baboon squares all day and we’re not, it seems, so back to business.

7/10 hits to this site are still from people looking for videos and pictures of monkeys mating. So I figure I might as well write for them.

How’s it going? It’s winter in Australia you know. Yup. Winter here. Cooler weather. Wetter. Got any pictures of rhesus monkeys going at it? How about Schoolgirl Chimps in Bondage? Want to buy some? See my assistant in the alley after the show.

I don’t really have an assistant. He ran off with the monkeys. Or they stole him. He wasn’t very big. A pocket assistant, if you will.

So…will you?

I’ll turn my back if it makes it easier on you. Try not to make any sounds that will give away what you’re doing so then I’ll never know. You’ll always have that little secret to hold over me. And I’ll grow to resent it and it will come between us until we Almost Kill Each Other and then you’ll tell me and it will be nothing. It will be you held up rabbit ears behind my head, and I’ll say “was that all why didn’t you tell me?” And you’ll smile in that wistful way you have and fall over from blood loss. Then we’ll laugh and we’ll see how silly we’ve been and we’ll have almost-died-sex if you don’t die.

Let's Play Baboon Squares

After months of searching for a suitable site for the mutant baboon army compound I am able to announce one has been found and purchased by Mrs Joe and myself. They all said I was crazy, that I couldn’t do it, that I smelled like wet burlap and damn it they were mostly right. I may be a musty smelling maniac but I have my baboon army compound and nobody can take it away. Except the bank if I forget to pay for it. But I left myself a note, so that won’t happen. Anymore.

Somewhere in this long range satellite photogram is the Actual Baboon Compound. Those of you who are already members will want to find it and stake out your areas. Anybody else will want to find it just because it’s something to do instead of facing another bleak day filled with nothing.

So click the photo to get a good look, then click BACK when you think you’ve spotted it. Tell me your guess in the comments section. As you can see I already guessed square D7, but I got it wrong. You’ll do better.

Pick your square and I’ll announce the winner next Sunday. I’ll take suggestions on a prize.

How does the third person write his memoirs?

Do you see that scrolling thing over there? ------->

Not the clock, above that. Doesn’t seem to work with Firefox. I prefer to blame the inventor of Hyper Text Markup Language, rather than my rudimentary knowledge of its use. Anyway it’s a clever and amusing little scrolly thing which announces Something Big is happening on Sunday August 19th. Probably some lame contest or baboon army thing. He hasn’t trotted that shit out for a while.

Hmm, got all 3rd person there for a minute. I don’t trust novels written in the third person as its akin to hearsay which is spelled a little like heresy and is similar in meaning. How the fuck did Marc Twain know what Huck and Tom got up to on the raft? He wasn’t there. And it's frankly a little creepy to imagine two shirtless boys on a raft accompanied by an old man in a white suite with handle bar moustaches, spouting folksy sayings and earthy yet poignant parables highlighting human foibles, its disgusting.

So stop by Sunday and see what stupid gimmick he’s got going now. Damn he’s doing it again.

things you find on a saturday morning

Guy in Canada found a mummified baby in the wall of a house he was renovating, been there since 1925. So now what do you do? Close up the wall and never speak of it again or do you bring people through going “that’s the laundry, kitchen over there and oh that’s where we found the baby... no, they took it away. Good thing it wasn’t load bearing”

Woman in Arizona bought a mystery box at some auction and discovered it contained a human skull. Whoever packed those mystery boxes was really good at it. She was probably expecting a cookie jar.

Meanwhile another woman did get a cookie jar. Sold to her by a woman for 50 cents, who “didn’t realize” it had her husband’s previous wife’s ashes in it. It was a giant frog.

It’s like we’re living in a Tim Burton movie.

I Used My Magnets

I was thinking I might go on the space shuttle. They’d let me on because of all the good work I did. They’d let me on for sure ‘cause of that one time I saved George Bush. Used my magnets to get the alien probes out of his head. Looks like they put some back, though.

I can’t be everywhere. Not like God, or that fine dust that settles on everything after witches are burned. Most people don’t realize all the toxic fumes that come off a burning witch. They have shocking hygiene, some of them.

Witches were the cat-ladies of their day, living alone in the forest with 20-odd cats and a broom handle for company. Misunderstood and shunned, they lived quietly, making a simple life for themselves and eating any children they found. They bothered no one.

And kids did what they were told, boy. Don’t want to do your chores? How about we go for a little walk in the forest. You remember Grettle from up the road? You don’t see her in school anymore do you?

Friday Night Mild Headache

If you have openly weeping sores all over your body you should try to cheer them up. Buck up ‘lil puss hole, you’ll get your scab soon, you should say. Buy them a Happy Meal, but make sure you don’t get the salty one, the Mc Salt Combo, because open sores don’t like them. And not if the toy is one that makes noise, because I don’t like those ones and you’re lucky I even let you in here with those sores. Put some pants on.

I invented my own happy meal. You take Rice-a-Roni or Kraft Dinner or Toast and pour 18-27 grams of cocaine on it then you grind it up and mix it with vodka and inject it under your toenails. There’s no toy.

But you can get toys from most children. The majority can’t defend themselves very well, and frankly they’re not that bright. You give a six year old a head-fake and they’ll go for it every time. Also if you ask them if they can see their own ears they spin around.

It’s pretty funny. If you get enough of them going you can play Battling Tots out on the patio. Try to get a fat one, they spin longer due to inertia and because they’re stubborn. Dogged, even.

I wrote a poem. Actually my shopping list happened to rhyme. Actually I didn’t write it. I read it in a book of shopping lists, Under An Auburn Sky. I thought it was going to be an adventure story about some people who lived on a planet with a sky the colour of pure auburn, due to massive auburn fires burning in the core, but instead it wasn’t.

It never is. I said put your pants on.

Thursday Night Fever

P4: Dad can you drop me off at my school disco tonight?
SJ: Disco! I don’t know, I’ve heard some things about discos…
P4: Like what?
SJ: Dancing. They got dancing there. Dancing’s bad for you. Jiggles up your insides. Makes you goofy.
P4: Does not. I’m gonna dance with my friend Nicole.
SJ: Not boys?
P4: Nope. But I know a girl who is going to dance with a boy and if she does then this other girl has to dance with this other dude, and she doesn’t even like him.
SJ: Dude? There’s dudes there too? I don’t know…
P4: Dudes are boys.
SJ: I see. So I’m a dude?
P4: It starts at 7-o-clock.
SJ: Tactful. Ok, but you better not come home any goofier than you are now. I’ll know.

I lied. She’s too goofy now to notice any difference.

Ice Age Already Begun

Went to wipe the dew off my windshield this morning and was amazed to find ice. Actual real ice. As a lad in Canada I would have used the box from a cassette tape to scrape it away but you don’t see them much anymore. I don’t even have any CD’s in the truck, it’s all mp3 baby. Can’t scape ice with an iPod though.

They say don’t pour boiling water on an icy window. That’s because it would take longer to go back inside and boil water than to just run the heater a few minutes.

My brother* once used my best beer mug to make an ice cream soda. He felt the ice cream was still too hard so he placed my best beer mug, full of ice cream soda, on the burner of the stove and left it sit there a while. Then it exploded.

He should have taken it out to the car and run the heater a few minutes.

Architect = Antichrist

I would like to reiterate an earlier statement that all architects should be shot.


Dear Architect,

Why oh why, in that murky brain of yours, did it seem a clever idea to make your walls at 33 degrees? Were you being ‘fresh’? Quirky? Do you huff glue at lunchtime? Circles have 360 degrees and 33 does not divide well into that number. Hence I have numbers with decimals, great long strings of decimals. Now, my software demands exact sizes to work properly but you try and tell Big Rick in the factory to cut something at 1126.9090901 millimetres. Tell him it’s new, it’s fun, it’s trigonometry. See where that gets you.

You, my misguided friend, have ordered an entire room to be panelled in a particular species of New Guinea hardwood veneer plywood which, apparently, nobody makes anymore. If they ever did. I bet you made it up.

You, my doe eyed apple blossom, have asked for 6 heavy glass-doored overhead cabinets above the granite topped ode to yourself you call a reception desk. You have neglected to notice there are no walls nearby and it’s a 15 foot ceiling. Are they meant to hover? That’s just not practical. The downwash would muss up the receptionist’s hair.

I understand you want to be different, make a statement, but you seem to be retarded. I’m almost certain your mother breast fed you until your late teens. Did she encourage you to be creative? I suppose she couldn’t have known you’d get this far. Hey, you know those guys that round up shopping carts at Safeway? That looks fun, you get a fluorescent vest and everything. You can pretend the carts are a big train whoo-whoo! I bet you like trains, don’t you sunshine?

Promise me you’ll think about it.

Das Coffee Cup

Did I ever tell you about the time I was on a submarine? I worked this big console and it had lots of buttons and lights and gauges. What the console did was classified, they didn’t tell me much…

“Just load the racks with dirty dishes, slide them in here, close the door and push the red button. Watch the temperature stays up.”

Who knows what the red button really did, but I thought the dishwasher disguise was very clever.

Ok, it wasn’t a submarine. It was an nuclear powered underwater coffee shop. To fool the Ruskies, it was parked on Main Street between the bakery and the variety store. Nobody expects an underwater coffee shop on dry land.

It was a brilliant tactic.

But after a while I couldn’t handle the pressure. Every 5 minutes push the red button, faster faster here comes the lunch rush! More bleach, damn it. Oh no, table of 5 incoming! Ahhhhhh…..(!)

Actually I got another job, transporting nitro glycerine across a rugged mountain range in a rickety French bistro.

syllogism

1) P4 may keep her room however she likes.
2) P4 may not watch TV if her room is not tidy.

P4: Uh, Dad you made a mistake.
SJ: Really? Why does that keep happening?.
P4: One rule says any way I like, the other says it has to be tidy.
SJ: Hmmm, let’s see. No, there’s no logical conflict there.
P4: O-k. Well I’ll just watch TV.
SJ: Room clean?
P4: No.
SJ: Rule 2
P4: But maybe messy is how I like to keep it. Rule 1.
SJ: Ok, then go hang out in there. Queen of the mess.

Who knows, might work. I figure you don’t shit where you live. Eventually.

corruption

When I applied for an Australian driver’s license I had to answer 40 multiple choice questions on a computer. One of the questions was

If the evaluator asks you for a bribe and you give it to them:
1) Only the evaluator will be charged by the police.
2) Both of you will be charged by the police.
3) You will receive your license.

The answer was of course number 3. This is New South Wales where corruption has a proud history. I had to take a short safety course which allows me to enter building sites for work and the instructor told us they caught a guy selling crane operator’s tickets. Cranes are those big tall things that lift heavy objects high in the air and tip over if you do it wrong. Well there’s 3000 operators in NSW who’s tickets are no good. One guy they found was two days in the country and spoke no English but he had a crane ticket.

Foreman: Hey watch out for the power line!
Crane Op: (smiles and nods) “Ok yes!”
Foreman: No look up, UP! Not thumbs up, dickhead, look… Ok everybody stay clear until we can get the power shut off and retrieve the body. Jim cancel the concrete truck, we can’t pour today.

That was construction site lingo. Don’t let the brassy exterior fool you, they were crying on the inside. They’d all been looking forward to pour day and now it was ruined. Jim had made scones for after but nobody felt much like eating them and they went to waste. They keep telling him he uses too much cinnamon but he’s proud, is Jim.

It’s just his way.

That’s old lady lingo. It means “yes he’s a dickhead but there’s nothing you can do about it”. And when old ladies say “oh stop, you’re making me blush”, it means put your pants back on or I’ll cut you. That’s what they told me at the hospital anyway.

And that’s how corruption belittles us all. And we learned that concrete comes in a truck.

#450

New York, New England, New Hampshire, New Zealand… you’d think after going to the trouble and expense of discovering a place and having the opportunity to name it, you’d put a little imagination into it. Something like Superland or Death Zone 55.

You know that chart, the one that shows a chain of primates starting with a lemur and working it’s way through various slope-headed club wielders all the way up to a natty Modern Man in a blue suit with thin tie, you know that chart? Well in a few million years that chart will be much longer and we’ll just be version 17 out 1000. “Yes, and here is where they started using calculators”

Number 18 looks like Barbarella.

Barbarella didn’t need a calculator. Mathematics gets outlawed in 2112 when it begins to cause problems. A ten year old prodigy counted all the way to the end.

It’s infinity + 1 he says. Then he declared himself Boss of The World.