Friday, July 17, 2009

The Dog Report

Howdy do, you little bran muffins of funk.

Thanks for coming to the meeting. Lets get the agenda underway shall we?

1) The public outpouring of bullshit over Michael Jackson.

Lets see now ....war all over the joint......water running out...faiths threatening to shit down each others necks...freaks running the country....people being lost at sea on leaky smugglers boats...everybody too fat to get to the heart attack help station......rampant alcoholism.. mass extinction of wildlife.....Tooheys.....

Ahhhh...but lets face it....who the fuck can be bothered giving a toot about this trivial shite when some bizarre, skinny, self absorbed hermaphrodite carks it after going loop-o-bananas from eating too many whitery man magic pills over the last 30 years?
Granted you don't often get the combo of dainty robot hoofer and yipping funk terrier everyday and I will admit for a while there he was the shizzle (If you like your shizzle in a six inch shizzle-lite combo), but may I also refer to the saccharine ton of burbling pap that was the last 20 years of ol' Jacko's career?
Granted, my heart is more like a chain smoking oyster with Alzheimers that a pop pump station of lurve, but're putting this one gloved nozzle up as the greatest entertainer of all time?
And why not?
Because Star Wars was a magnificent docudrama! And Pee Wee Herman was the funniest comedian ever! And A-Ha were the best metal band ever! And the Rolling Stones were actually ABBA on smack! (Hmmmm...I might have to check that one...)

For my two cents, Jackson was like some weird, gull-winged experiment car that was cool for a while but got more and more bad retro as the years rolled on.
Perhaps the truth is that evolution was rooting about with some plasticine in a wind tunnel and thought it might be cool to whip up a funky JacksonWagon in order to tell God to get fucked at the next motor show. (It was the 60's you know.......)
Sadly, like any veteran vehicle, when it costs more to fix than it's worth, what choice do you have but to let the rego run out and wheel it off to the great wreckers in the sky?

I'm just glad that all those weeping kiddies, (and their fat Mums), out buying the Michael Jackson Platinum edition boxed sets are sending their cash to a good cause and not wasting it propping up a family of debauched miscreants who'll probably invest it in pimping Jacko's littlies until they run out of cute.
(That little girl at the funeral will apparently shit in a bag for you if you've got 10 grand. EBay comes alive!)

Word to the wise though- Billy Ray Cyrus has already cornered the market on World conquering progeny, so stick that up your ebony hole with an ivory hole poker, Joe.

2) Stawell Gift.

Yippee! More sport!
It's always great to see a bunch of country hacks running around knowing they'll never make the Olympics, or be of any earthly use to anything, outside of keeping the manufacturers of short shorts in the pink.
Now, I don't care who runs the sausage sizzle on this one. When it comes to dick heads running around in a circle I'm just over come with the urge to scream "Go you bandy legged bastards!"
It's just great to see people who know they'll never crack it for a top spot in anything, (other than 2nd place the Koroit Burping Competition), donning the togs for a quick zoom up he back straight.
It's also good to see that Ballarat has got it together to draw some white lines on the City Oval and has applied for funding to asses the feasibility of eventually acquiring an action team to draw up plans to create a document that strongly advises for a consultancy body to take positive action on approving a first phase plan of possibly creating a think tank to head up a proto-document assessing the need for a committee to get some string to run through at the end.

Those square-headed rubes in Stawell could never get that together! Look at the Civic Hall!
In the time it took to approve the paper work needed to rort the town senseless, all Stawell did was build a hospital and provide free lunch for the poor!
Buncha fuckin dim wit country cow squeezers! Getting things done is no way to get things done!
If it's one thing we Ballarations know how to do it's fuck around like a bunch of Cornish tin miners on a footy trip to Thailand!
More event stealing! We'll fuck any shit up! We don't care where it comes from!
Onwards to Pyramids and a space program I say!

3) JJJ Hottest Turdburger

So Nirvana wins the Koroit Burping competition......
Not bad for a corpsicle, a guy who has released a plush toy called the Dave Grohlliwog and a guy who could work at the Sebas servo for all we know.
Let me just say this again......rock and roll and all it's subsidiary holdings (the shampoo, the ice cream, the baldness therapy sessions etc.) is dead.
It's a corpse to be poked out of pungent curiosity when you're rafting down the river of your mid thirties.
It's a bewildered, tired old Nan sitting in a rest home waiting for a major label to come and change it's shitbag.
It's a tyre marked road kill, spurting a little more infested guts each time the big ol' eighteen wheeler of re-release comes trundling along the Nullabor.
It's a senile wombat bloating in a ditch being slowly consumed by re-mix GenY bacteria.
It's a tired old hooker turning blue in a Shepparton caravan park after coughing it's cunt up for YouPorn.
It's like getting nostalgic about shitting your pants in high school (Those were the days! And what a great puff from the old poop shoot Nevermind was!)

Hottest 100......where was Haircut 100 you might well ask?

Until next time,

Mick "Winter is like death trying to bot a durrie" Dog.