A Quick Quiz |
[Dec. 7th, 2009|11:14 pm]
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My latest newmatilda article...and comments.
Now, having read said article and said comments, a quick quiz for readers to take, to win big!
1. In what sense can "motherlode" (however you spell it) be construed as a religious reference?
2. What is the average IQ required to grasp the difference between ridiculing someone who IS a Catholic, and ridiculing someone for BEING Catholic, with no other reason?
3. Is there any particular reason anyone's religion should be immune from ridicule?
Highest scores win a specially autographed essay on the links between anonymous abusive internet warriors and virulent anti-Semitism. |
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Old Man (from See What I'm Talking About, performed in September) |
[Oct. 28th, 2009|11:07 am]
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The idea was to come up with three pieces, each responding to a different photo. This piece was in response to this photo:
![Photobucket](http://web.archive.org./web/20130121124644im_/http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v737/mrbehemoth/dave13.jpg)
Old man, staring at me from across the room Old man, your face lined with such experience and wisdom Your back bent from a life well-lived Your unpleasant smell hiding a noble heart Old man, your eyes shining blearily As my grandfather’s once did Are you anything like him?
He who was always there for me, no matter how many friends abandoned me, no matter how many bullies taunted me, no matter how many mothers set me on fire He was always there I remember when I was eight, having a nightmare, And that was the first time I woke in the middle of the night, to find my grandfather there, spooning me I’ve never told anyone about it before Because he said he’d kill me if I did
Are you like him, old man? Do you, like my grandfather, know what it’s like to kill 16 Germans with a bayonet and a hand grenade? Of course, that was a long time ago – the early 90s But now, when I look at you, old man, Your eyes have that same look I remember from my grandfather as he reminisced about his colourful life and hate crimes That look I knew so well… Stern yet caring Strong yet tender Loving yet violently misogynistic
He would say to me, is it a crime to hate women? I told him it wasn’t, but he wouldn’t take my word for it, and insisted on asking a solicitor We didn’t know any solicitors, so he took me along to abduct one 3 weeks later, as I stood in our cellar, listening to the sirens outside and watching grandfather taunt the sobbing lawyer with a marionette carved from his own arms, giggling at the gasping pleas for mercy, not for the first time I marvelled at how much this gentle man had to teach me
What can you teach me, old man? What lessons from your life are you eager to pass on? Can you teach me how to bake? Your enormous chef’s hat says yes, but the placard around your neck reading I AM A MENTAL PATIENT says, tread warily Because only 2 kinds of people wear enormous chef’s hats – chefs and mental patients And only 2 kinds of people wear signs saying I AM A MENTAL PATIENT – mental patients and people who want others to think they are mental patients but have little idea of the best way to go about it
Are you one of those, old man? Are you trying to convince me of your dementia in a clumsy and inept way? Like my grandfather, when he attempted to dodge charges of treason and bigamy with an insanity plea based entirely upon his supposed inability to pronounce the word “lackadaisical” I learnt a lot about life in those three days in court – about the indomitable nature of the human spirit About the majesty of the rule of law About the inadequacy of courtroom metal detectors
My grandfather died some time ago But while he lived, he taught me one very important lesson: cherish the elderly When he died he one hundred and twenty six years old and could communicate only by vomiting in suggestive patterns on the floor But he retained the childlike wonder at the world around him that he had since he was just a lad And it’s that childlike wonder I see in you, old man Staring at me across the room, as if I were your long-lost son, or the ghost of your long-dead best friend, or the man who molested your granddaughter Perhaps, in a way, I am Because no matter how time may separate us, we are all one The young, the old, the healthy, the infirm, the fun to be around and the repellently liver-spotted Take my hand, old man I lost the man who meant the most to me Perhaps you have lost someone too Perhaps we can be each other’s comfort in these times of sadness Perhaps we, too, can spoon Because if nothing else remains of my grandfather on this earth – not his collection of unidentified hair; not his multiple screenplays about suicidal babies; not his many incinerated wives; there is always a little piece of him that will live on, In my deep-seated and utter inability to achieve sexual arousal except from contact with extremely old men
Old man, I see it in your eyes Be my grandfather, just for tonight |
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Who's Gonna Drive You Home...Tonight? |
[Oct. 19th, 2009|09:51 pm]
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There but for the grace of Cthulhu...
I used to LIVE in this house.
![](http://web.archive.org./web/20130121124644im_/http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZYyNgpzgJtg/StxA32ncI1I/AAAAAAAAABc/iC2_enhT27A/s320/carroof.jpg)
That was 10 years ago, but my mother and sister lived there up until June this year.
Of course, THEY knew how to keep the place in good order. Unlike these new owners, who seem to think they can leave their trash lying about any old place, park wherever they please etc. |
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FASCISTS!!! |
[Aug. 29th, 2009|10:14 am]
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So anyway I was on Twitter, and I was commenting on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, because we were watching it, and it's like, hey, I have a lot of things to say and I need to EXPRESS MYSELF. So I put my thoughts on Twitter because I was under the impression that that is WHAT IT'S FOR.
But then, I get halfway through the movie and Twitter tells me I have Twittered too much and I have to stop.
What
the
fuck
?
SO I can't finish my comments because the movie keeps going and Twitter has cut me off and made me wait till later.
And then a couple of people unfollow me and tell me it's because I was Twittering too much. Seriously? Fuck you, man, fuck you right to hell.
FASCISTS
So anyway my next LJ post is going to be my thoughts on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, cruelly truncated by Twitter's totalitarian attitude to volume. |
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Performed at Liner Notes, Michael Jackson's "Thriller", 27/8/09 |
[Aug. 29th, 2009|09:42 am]
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My assignment was Track 7, "Human Nature"
I'm looking out at the night And every star, Every constellation reminds me of her Virgo the virgin Andromeda the princess Sagittarius the passive-aggressive slut We used to sit together and listen to Michael Jackson The song Ben came on, and she laughed and said, this is about you! And I laughed and said no it's not And she laughed and said yes it is And I laughed and said no it's not And she punched me in the face and said yes it fucking is And I smiled and agreed with her, feeling safe and warm in the cosy cocoon of my battered wife syndrome. Why? Because heartwarming anecdotes about domestic violence, that’s human nature And I can’t help but wonder, What is it to be human? What does it mean to be part of this maddeningly contradictory race? What does it mean to be human? As a human, how is it I can spend my days teaching English to refugees, and my nights wandering the streets stabbing random Indians? It’s human nature
How is it that one man can devote his entire life to fighting for democracy and freedom While another devotes his entire life to making long incisions in the carcasses of sea bass for the purpose of sexual gratification? How is that these two seemingly dissimilar men can later discover, at the age of 42, that they are identical twins, separated at birth, when they meet by chance on a bus, and when they catch each other’s eye, with mutual looks of haunting familiarity, the bus suddenly brakes hard, causing them to stumble, pitching them into each others’ arms, from where they succumb to some mysterious, irresistible impulse, melting into a passionate kiss that initiates a torrid sexual relationship that will end not only in tears, but in murder? How is it that this happens? Because Erotic encounters between long-lost identical twins? That's human nature
She once told me her favourite Michael Jackson song was Off the Wall I asked her why choose Off the Wall? And she said because when I was little, we had a wall, and one day I fell off it And I said that’s not much of a story And she said, well, did I mention I fell on top of a GREYHOUND? And I said no you didn’t, but that detail doesn’t possess much explanatory power. And she burst into tears and said, you never let me be me! And I had to admit she was right I never let her be her I was always forcing her to be someone else Usually I was forcing her to be automotive pioneer Karl Benz Why? Because using coercive means to satisfy the desire to see your girlfriend disguised as 19th century German engineers That’s human nature baby
I never expected her to stay I never asked her to stay I was actually pretty irritated when she stayed But after about six months I could say she was growing on me And two months after that I realised that I had mistaken her for a cyst And isn’t that human nature? Isn’t having cysts what being human is all about? No, not really There’s so much more to life than cysts There’s boils, and tumours, and goitre And that’s what I loved about her She was the first person in the world to suffer from goitre of the crotch, but she never let it get her down She was always cheerful She wasn’t perfect She wouldn’t be human if she was perfect! She’d be some kind of magical talking horse! She had her flaws The short temper, the indecipherable lisp, the elaborate nightly duck-hunt mimes But you couldn’t deny she was cheerful And if you did deny it, I’d probably disagree Not in an aggressive way, not in an angry way, but respectfully We wouldn’t have to fall out over it, or end our friendship We could agree to disagree, and decide not to bring the matter up again There’s no need to sever all ties between us just because of a petty disagreement over the level of joviality of a woman with whom I am no longer in a relationship There’s so much more to talk about Having lots of things to talk about – that’s human nature Michael Jackson knew that! He knew what it was to be human That’s why he WROTE Black or White He knew that as long as you’re human, it doesn’t matter if you’re black or white It only matters if you’re Dutch Because hating Dutch people – That’s human nature
And that’s why I can’t help but think about Michael Jackson while I’m sitting here, looking out over this city, wanting to take a big bite Just take a big bite out of the city! And I know it’s impractical, and nutritionally unsound But unfeasible dietary ambition – that’s human nature
And so I’m still looking out over the city, thinking about love Thinking about hate Thinking about the final season of Head of the Class when Billy Connolly played the teacher Because pointless non sequiturs and gratuitous 1980s sitcom references – that’s human nature
I’m looking out Wondering I’ve listened to countless hours of Michael Jackson’s music Trying to figure out what happened to that woman The woman I let go (she’s out of my life?) And I’ve been on this planet for 30 years And still I don’t think I really know what it is to be human But if I had to take a guess…
I’d say it has something to do with opposable thumbs And I hope that someday, all the people of the world can get together, and admit that It’s a crazy dream But someday it’ll come true It’ll come true |
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Performed at 9/11 Slam |
[Aug. 6th, 2009|03:56 am]
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If I were a terrorist I'd be the nice kind The kind that realises that sure, you're flying a plane into a skyscraper But that's no reason to be pushy You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar Rather than hijacking the plane, why not try asking nicely? You'd be surprised how helpful people can be when you're polite Instead of threatening the pilot with a boxcutter, how about offering him a backrub?
The nice kind of terrorist The kind who forces his women to cover themselves head to toe in the traditional burqa But who encourages them to spruce it up with a nice brooch or some wacky stickers
The nice kind of terrorist The kind who doesn't walk into a Jerusalem cafe and detonate his vest But who sits down and buys everyone pastries Because a well-fed Israeli Is an obliging Israeli
Instead of firing home-made rockets over the border Why not try a nice muffin basket? With a note: "Dear Neighbour/Please stop building your settlements/Love, Palestine"
It's like my own situation at home I had a next-door neighbour who constantly played his music very loud But I didn't get violent and blow his house up I went over there and made friends, said, "Hey, let's talk and reach a compromise on this noise pollution issue"
Of course, in the end we couldn't and I was forced to decapitate him live on the internet But the point is, I tried That's what I want all terrorists to do, TRY Because sure, you're fighting the infidels who want to crush your people and wipe your religious culture from the earth But there's no call for rudeness
So remember, you can't spell "Jihad" without "H" Think about it |
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More before I forget |
[Aug. 6th, 2009|03:45 am]
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Jesus, he's the number one Hebrew And let me tell you, Hebrewin' up something special
Some people say Jesus, he can't do what he pleases Let me tell you, Jesus CAN do what he pleases JESUS can do anything as long as it rhymes
Some people they praying to others The prayin to Vishnu, they prayin to Buddha, they prayin to Mohammad Well, you know what Jesus does to Mohammad He bends him over and fucks him like a little bitch
Cos he's JESUS |
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Already preparing |
[Aug. 6th, 2009|03:30 am]
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I'm here to talk about JESUS! JESUS He's not just for mental patients anymore JESUS The imaginary friend who keeps on giving I'm telling you about JESUS, the push-up bra on the breasts of my soul
If you show your love to Jesus, he will show his love to you Can't you feel Jesus's love showering down upon you, like bull semen on the face of a cowhand?
Because Jesus takes away the blues Jesus takes away the jazz Jesus takes away the light opera Jesus takes away all archaic musical forms, and he bring us...HAIR METAL But not just any hair metal, Jesus brings us hair metal for the HEART Yes, if Jesus were a hair metal band, he would be Van Halen crossed with Poison with bits of Motley Crue sticking out the top If Jesus played guitar it would be the most heavenly solo you ever heard If Jesus sang it would be with the voice of thunder and the voice of sunshine If Jesus played the drums it would be far-fetched
I'm telling you about JESUS, and asking him to come to us tonight and aid us Lay your healing hands on us, JESUS Here is a young man afflicted with poetry Please, Jesus, heal this young man of his affliction Drive the poetry from this young man, Jesus Cast out the poetry demon that has entered him I want you to come to this young man Jesus and help him get a real job Please Jesus, come down to this earthly plane and FILL this young man with the sweet sweet spirit of your practical training in IT skills!
When I say Jesus, you say Fuck yeah! JESUS JESUS
Because if Jesus were a spaceship he would be the Millennium Falcon, covered with sugar and crewed by dancing pirate robots If Jesus were a 1960s cartoon he would be Roger Ramjet If Jesus were a naked woman he would be on your face TWENTY-FOUR-SEVEN
And that's why we pray to Jesus today, we pray to him to save us from our own sin, we pray to him to save us from our own depravity, we pray to him to save us from cannibal mutants hiding in the hills
Jesus won't you come bring your light to bear on we poor sinners and drag us up to heaven by the scrags of our necks like the dirty whores that we always hoped we would become
Jesus won't you tell us the mysteries of life and the secrets to happiness so that we can be as joyous as you are as you sit upon your banana lounge rubbing honey into your nipples
Jesus won't you tell your father to stop giving us cancer
JESUS WON'T YOU BE MINE |
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Explosive Revelations |
[Jul. 10th, 2009|08:36 am]
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There are three kinds of explosive revelation:
1. The literal - "I am going to blow this house up"
2. The figurative - "The honourable member has been accepting cash donations in exchange for granting special favours to Nazi people smugglers from the ethanol industry"
3. The romantic - "There's a time bomb in my pants and it's set to detonate at half past you" |
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