Swine Flu?

It is, hopefully, a laughing matter.

The Definition Of Irony?

It might be Andrew Bolt, a columnist for the HERALD SUN, writing a column complaining about the whipping up of unnecessary panic.

It's like Kyle Sandilands complaining about declining standards in entertainment.

A Wise Man Once Said...

"Boat people scare easily, but they'll be back - and in greater numbers."

The Rudd government's failure to sustain the Obi Wan theory of border protection has cost us dearly - as I explain in my latest piece on newmatilda.

Andrew Bolt: Traitor?

Andrew Bolt demonstrates his loyalty to a foreign power.

Mick Keelty, get your surveillance team onto this man straight away. Soon or later, he must make contact with his European masters

The Moral Bankruptcy Of Crimefighters

And in other news...

Police and crime victims' advocates speak out against bushfire fundraising, expressing their outrage at attempts to assist the victims of Black Saturday.

So, the message from the police and crime victim community can be summed up as: "We enjoy seeing people suffer in bushfires." Noel McNamara, how do you sleep at night?

What are the odds?

So the second Australian in a week has died while walking the Kokoda Track.
I never would have imagined that the Kokoda Track was so hard to walk. All the records from the war indicate that it was, to quote the War Office, "A pleasant enough afternoon's stroll, perfect for tourists".

It must have come as quite a shock to those people when they died.

Children's Television REALLY Comes Of Age

Children's Television Comes Of Age

You lose your heart,
I'll lose mine,
Show me your love and I'll feel fine.
We'll stay close and never part,
I'll always love you, cross my heart.
Show me an L.
Show me an O.
Show me a V,
And finish with an E.
L.O.V.E. I love you and you love me.
L.O.V.E. that's the way it's meant to be.

Hear that, family groups? Meant to be. Leave us alone.

Happy 100th Post!

It's been a long, hard struggle, full of heartache, tears, and forgetting of passwords, but today we celebrate the World of Objects' 100th post. Milestones like this don't come along every day - well, they do, but not on this particular blog - and it makes me feel that it's all been worthwhile to know that after just 100 posts, I have amassed a readership that, assuming nobody is trying to spare my feelings, numbers in the mid-to-high single digits.

So now is a time to think back on the good times, mull over our favourite memories on the blog, and, I don't know, eat some cheese or something.

People Who Deserve To Be Robbed, Part 1

From the Hobart Mercury:

"A missing sheep has St Marys residents baffled.

The fibreglass animal was in the front yard of its owner ’s home on Good Friday when it went missing.

"Whoever took it must have been watching me," said Diana Foster. "I was gardening. I went inside for lunch and they grabbed it." The sheep was wearing pink rabbit ears and a pink skirt at the time.

With Eggs!

Sometimes, Easter can be a confusing time for those not steeped in solemn religious tradition. So for those of you who count among that number, here is a quick explanation of the Easter story, couched in modern terms for easy understanding.

THE STORY OF EASTER FOR THE MODERN "KIDS"

Imagine that you are driving, and in front of you is a big fancy car. Suddenly it slams on the brakes. You do likewise, but cannot stop in time. You slam into the back of the car.

The driver gets out of the car and confronts you.

DRIVER: You hit my car!

YOU: I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened.

DRIVER: It's not surprising really. I cut your brakes.

YOU: What?

DRIVER: Yes. Last night I came to your house and cut your brakes. Then I deliberately braked hard so you would hit me. I set it up so this would happen. I planned it all along.

YOU: So it's your fault?

DRIVER: Oh no, even though I planned it, it's still your fault. So now I have to punish you (takes out a gun).

YOU: You're going to shoot me.

DRIVER: Yes. In the head.

YOU: Isn't that a bit extreme?

DRIVER: Hey, YOU crashed into MY car! You need to be punished.

YOU: But...

DRIVER: OK, look, I am a kind and loving guy. I forgive you. I won't shoot you.

YOU: Oh good.

DRIVER: But I will have to shoot someone. Hey Junior, come out here! (his son gets out of the car, he shoots him in the head)

YOU: Dear God. Why did you do that?

DRIVER: Well, I wanted to forgive you, so I had to kill someone. Say thank you.

YOU: What?

DRIVER: I just saved you from being shot to death. Thank me!

YOU:...Thank you?

DRIVER: OK. Now here's my phone number. Ring me up every day for the rest of your life to say thank you again, and I won't shoot you in the head.

YOU: I thought you didn't have to shoot me, because you shot your son.

DRIVER: Oh yeah, but if you're going to be ungrateful, I'll have to shoot you anyway.

YOU: I'm very confused.

DRIVER: Here, have a chocolate bunny.

And that's Easter.

For a more inspirational take on the holiest holiday, see newmatilda.

Are You Looking For A Way To Look Less Slovenly?

Look no more! For here to save you from your own cripplingly ugly appearance is newmatilda's Brand-New Range Of T-shirts And Assorted Other Things!

Click on that link to enter the world of current affairs-analysis-themed merchandise.

In particular, check out the range of t-shirts, many of which feature hilarious and nether-moistening quotes by the man whose blog you are even now unable to tear your eyes away from.

...which is me. You can actually wear quotes by ME, on a T-SHIRT. This is AWESOME. Now you won't even have to talk to people to let them know how much you love me. That's got to save all sorts of time in your day-to-day routine. Go order some now!






Isn't that SEXY????

Update

You may have noticed a new segment on the side of this blog, under the heading Live!

This is to let you know where I'll be performing or making appearances in the near future. So if you were sitting at home saying, "I really really want to go see Ben in all his fleshy, ill-fitting-jacketed glory, but I have NO IDEA where to go!" you could simply log on, check the blog, and be informed of my every movement.

Seriously. Apart from those gigs, I don't move at all.

Latest

I expose Australia's petty, insular insistence on not being a suburb of China in newatilda here.

And while we're on the subject...

OK, so Kevin Rudd is on a flight. He asks for a meal. They tell him he can't have it. He gets annoyed. And then the flight attendant breaks down in tears.

Sorry? This is a member of the RAAF! A member of our armed forces CRYING because someone was mean to her!

What the hell kind of hiring practices does the air force have?

Is this the kind of defence we're putting up against our enemies? In the event of an invasion, our men and women in uniform will put their shoulders to the wheel and strain every sinew in the defence of our way of life...unless the invaders get a little snappy, in which case our men and women in uniform will run to the toilet and have a bit of a cry.

Hey, unnamed RAAF attendant...HARDEN THE FUCK UP!


Sally Morrell of the Herald Sun, of course, provides an alternative view, but given this is a woman who willingly engages in sexual intercourse with Andrew Bolt, I think we can disregard her judgment in any matter. I think her opinion is borne mostly of the fact that whenever SHE says "Don't you know who I am?" she just gets furrowed brows and an uncertain, "Kathy Bates?"

Great point, Sally - Rudd probably wouldn't tell the Queen off if he got the wrong meal at Buckingham Palace - and if you're not willing to hurl obscenities at the Queen, what right has anyone to get pissed off at anyone ever for any reason?

Laurie Oakes's article here actually reveals that RAAF personnel have enormous difficulty doing the job they're paid to do - in fact, flying on an air force plane is apparently akin to a sort of crash diet.

Not that we can blame the defence force for letting catering slip its mind - its preoccupied with weightier matters, like spying on the Defence Minister and fighting for the right to employ butlers.

National Security In Jeopardy: Lodge Infiltrated By Authorised Tradesmen

Let us take a hard, unflinching look at the latest scandal to come out of Canberra, as reported by the Herald Sun.

The sequence of events:

1. A group of men came to the Lodge, claiming to be maintenance workers.
2. They showed documentation indicating they had been cleared by the Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet.
3. Police checked their documentation and found it to be in order.
4. They spent some time in the Lodge.
5. They went home.

But there is more to the story: the men looked like bikies. Is something afoot, newsies? You bet your bloodstained bollards it is!

Given that these men, who suspiciously showed up with correct documentation and spent mostly unsupervised time in the Prime Minister's residence, were dressed in leather and had tattoos, it can be seen that what has actually occurred is an ATTACK ON THE LODGE BY BIKIE GANGS!

What they were doing in there, who knows? But certainly their tattoos represent a serious threat to security? What if they took showers? What if they washed their underpants in the Lodge's sink? What if a visiting foreign dignitary should stay at the Lodge and discover a copy of Live To Ride under the bed?

Terrifying thoughts, indeed. It's a disturbing thought that bikies might be able to gain access to the Lodge in order to...walk around. And do stuff. Like, maybe they were laying bikie eggs, using the PM's house as an incubator for the coming bikie army. Maybe they were there to sell amphetamines to Kevin Rudd. Maybe the reason Rudd was so cranky on that flight was because he had insufficient amphetamines. That can really stress a man out, I hear.

In any case, it's unacceptable. We need to get to the bottom of this. A Royal Commission into people with tattoos entering the Lodge must be announced immediately, for the sake of all our freedom.