BREAKING NEWS

I curse the fates that I did not hear about this sooner, but I think even now, it is my public duty to keep you informed of the situation.

From the Sea Lake and Wycheproof Times Ensign 11/12/08, momentous times at the Wycheproof Bowls Club, as it prepares for its "Christmas on the Rinks" event, with untold delights promised:

Barry Sterk will sing "A Wild Turkey in a Pear Tree", followed by "Cheeky" Coatsworth ’s paranoid plea "Do You Hear What I Hear?" By request, Steve Curry will reprise his last year ’s favourite, "Dick the Horse with Bags of Lollies".

YES! That was not a misprint, you read correctly!

DICK THE THE HORSE WITH BAGS OF LOLLIES!!!!!!

Why are you sitting there reading this? Get yourself to Wycheproof NOW!

Two Articles To Read Before You Die

If you were wondering what happened in the last year, you can catch up on it at my YEAR IN REVIEW at newmatilda.

Also of passing interest may be my take on Christmas in The Age. It's my first time in The Age, so I'm quite happy with that.

Creepy Christians...

Just got a little bit creepier.

"SHE is only 16, but her parents believe a court carried out God's will when it said she could marry her 26-year-old boyfriend."

"The pair began courting when Lucinda was 14."

"They met seven years ago through her father, Greg Law, an elder of a 25- member band of vegetarian "independent Christians" who call themselves Manifold Ministries."

"Their love blossomed when Lucinda's father and Mr Ramsay began working together on an outreach program preaching against the "new-world order"."

"Mr Law said he noticed how attached his daughter had become to Mr Ramsay and decided to play matchmaker."



Healthy? I should say so!

Where's Your Messiah Now?

God causes Financial Crisis!Leaders Helpless.

Maniacal Supervillain "Must Be Stopped".

The Saddest Day

I have written about the horrifically compromised state of modern feminism.

When will the madness END?

HS Frolics 2

Interesting story in today's Herald Sun, in which the newspaper mounts a push to rob a single parent of his livelihood as he struggles to care for his terminally ill son.

They've put a slightly different spin on it, mind.

HS frolics

The best part of the below story about Carl Williams's predilection for Celine Dion is the Herald Sun's clear implication that Williams is a plagiarist for using those lyrics in his death notice.

Today in the Herald Sun: Carl Williams - he kills, he sells drugs, but NOW, his latest outrage; HE STEALS LYRICS FROM POP SUPERSTARS!!!!!!

How low can you go, Carl? How low can you go?

The sensitive side of fat halfwit murderers

On the occasion of his mother's death, well-known gangland identity and incarcerated dugong Carl Williams has placed a touching death notice in Melbourne's Herald Sun, in which he quotes from Celine Dion's "Because You Loved Me".

I think this probably shows our common humanity. Just because somebody is a mass murderer and druglord, doesn't mean he can't appreciate heartwarming balladry or powerful female vocal stylings.

We saw a similar case in Robert Trimbole's love of Gloria Estefan.

"You were my voice when I couldn't speak and strength when I was weak," Carl wrote. Presumably he is, indeed, as Dion sang, everything he is, because she loved him. Which is probably why she killed herself.

It's a sort of tragic footnote to the gangland war; we thought we had seen the last of violent bogans killing each other. Who knew they'd start killing themselves?

Movies

You probably haven't heard about this, but Australian director Baz "Baz" Luhrmann has recently quietly sneaked a new movie into cinemas, with his usual humility and lack of fanfare. This movie is called "Australia", which is an odd title, given that the plot revolves around the power struggle between Frankish nobles of the 9th century.

Anyway, I've written about it my usual snide and abusive manner. Enjoy, my pets.

Do you want to know a secret?

Ever wanted to know all about inner workings of the mysterious and erotic world of performance poetry?

BEHOLD! All is revealed in the most searingly revelatory blog since this one.

Add it to your list, you won't want to miss a minute.

New? Matil-da!

Remember John and Jenny Deaves?

They're BACK!!!!!

In recent news...

Christians have decided to see whether God has changed His policy on idols.

Yes, in order to persuade God to intercede in the world financial crisis, a group of Christians have prayed for economic relief before a statue of a golden bull.

Seriously, Christians?

SERIOUSLY?

Why Do You Hate Freedom?

I trash all that's good and decent.

But it's not all doom and gloom: the Prime Minister predicts a "tough, ugly and hard" future , as he looks ahead to his next midnight rendezvous with Michelle Grattan.

Ooh, BURN!

Meanwhile, the Australiian film industry in crisis - which may or may not be the same crisis it's been in the last thirty years - with the revelation that the combined box-office take of this year's AFI Best Picture nominees is less than that of Will Ferrell's Step Brothers.

Some see this as a sign that we need to get Australians "engaged back in Australian stories", in the words of Dee McLachlan, director of The Jammed.

Nobody ever sees this kind of story as a sign that Australians should make entertaining movies, but I guess that'd be a bit crass.

Speaking of being more entertaining than four Australian movies put together, LOOK:



I KNOW that guy!

Parents! Want the very best for YOUR kids?

Why not send them to exclusive Xavier College?

At Xavier, they'll not only develop the sense of superiority and privilege you're looking for, but they'll explore exciting new worlds of bullying, physical assault, heavy drinking, and property damage that will see them ready to enter the adult world as well-rounded, confident, boisterous Christian citizens.

Call NOW to find out how YOU can spend $16,000 a year to turn your son into a violent criminal.

Doesn't your child deserve the very best?

Vote for sexy times!

An Open Letter

Dear Pro-Lifers,

Suck the pain, bitches.

Yours,

Ben

America? The Beautiful?

Want the facts about our mighty friend and ally?

Or would you rather read an ill-conceived piece of misinformed "humour" by me?

YOU DECIDE.

If there's one thing we need more of...

It's world leaders who can also teach you martial arts.

I want you think, just for a moment, about how futile it is for us to keep trying to maintain the supremacy of the West, in the face of Vladimir Putin, a man who is not only ruthless and ambitious, but who is a black belt in judo.

It should come in especial handy next time he rears his head over Alaska. I can see him, as he parachutes from his biplane into an Alaskan forest, beng confronted by Sarah Palin toting a 12-gauge and leading a crack battalion of Bear-Mounted Mooseketeers. "Surrender!" she'll screech, and Putin, with a wry smile, will flick the cigarette from his lips, crack his knuckles, and...

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-YAAAAAHHH!

Take THAT, biatch!

Dark Times

Why do people like sport? By people, I mean me. Some people hate sport. How lucky they are. Those people didn't want to kill themselves last night when the Storm lost the grand final by a record margin to the hairy miscreants of Manly, who provided the perfect send-off for club legend Steve "Beaver" Menzies, so-called because of his resemblance to a giant vagina.

Now that the football season has ended in crushing depression for my teams in three different codes, I shall turn my attention to cricket, which will undoubtedly see me even more suicidal.

Sport is STUPID.

Please leave your comments on the subject of why I should stop watching sport and take up scrapbooking below.

Shocking

In today's Age, drooling pervert Peter Craven claims that a man might want to look at children even if he has no intention of raping them.

Such a display of immorality and illogic bodes ill for our arts community, who even now are plotting to sneak onto the set of Bindi The Jungle Girl and give her a good seeing-to.

Cookies!

Cookies are great. But what's better is attacks on our way of life at New Matilda. Go read!

Also, remember my YouTube exploits? A comment has been placed there that I think actually sums me up pretty well, and it's pretty generous of him to offer to pinch my nipples. That's the kind of perks international stardom brings I suppose. "Anal warts", classic. So thank YOU, Cuttingedgecomiccrit, your support is appreciated.

In other news, my friend Helen Razer has unfortunately been sacked. I shouldn't comment too much, but really, Steven Berkoff is kind of a pretentious twat, isn't he?

He Lives!

Many apologies for the break in transmission, I have been engulfed in poncy theatrical shenanigans. Normal service has been resumed.

For those who care to catch a glimpse of what I've been up to while this blog had stood silent and grim, see here.

I Forgot!

Fifthly, apparently through the magic of Babble Slam, I have been put on Youtube.

Here.

And here.

And also here.

So you know, go there and tell your friends and make comments, because frankly it's kind of embarrassing having none...

Stay up to date with BPWWOO

Well, first of all, you can see how I sneer at those who have achieved success through hard work and ability here.

Secondly, if you go here, register with newmatilda and vote for your favourite cartoon in the New Matilda cartooning competition, you could win a FREE copy of my book, Handy Latin Phrases.

Thirdly, I've begun a weekly radio spot on Sydney community radio station 2SER. Every Wednesday I buzz in around 4:45 to chat with Ellice Mol. The callsign is 107.3 FM for Sydneyite, for everyone else you can listen to the station's live stream through the website.

And fourthly, Eoin Colfer is going to write a sixth instalment of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. As someone for whom HHGTTG is a major milestone in my life and development as a human being, and remains my favourite book/s, I am interested in your feedback.

In 50 words or less, tell me why YOU think Eoin Colfer should go burn his stupid face off with acid.

Dirty Bald Plagiarist

Ex-minister Michael Costa calls for the abolition of state governments.

Oh really, Michael? And just where did you get that idea?

Come clean Costa!

Aren't you ashamed to be reading this crap?

Bob Durnan writes:

'If Ben Pobjie is a "satirist", then the noble art of satire has reached its nadir.

More likely that Ben is a wannabe satirist, with a tendency to indulge in extravagant sarcasm marked by the sterility of its wit, & NM either can’t tell the difference or can’t find anybody else to perk up its bulletins, so it ignores Ben’s serious lack of satirical talent and just prints his pieces for the sake of providing these tediously hamfisted attempts at humour.

That satirical subject matter as potentially rich as the behaviour of the NSW ALP can give rise to such predictable and unfunny lampoonery proves my point.

For more evidence of his perpetual inanity, just have a look at Ben’s blog.'


Hey, Bob Durnan, good for you. You've finally said what we're all thinking.

Bob Durnan, you're the REAL star!

Get on board!

In today's Sydney Morning Herald letters, Ian Nicolson of Banora Point writes:

"England has had a poet laureate since Gulielmus Peregrinus, appointed by Richard Coeur de Lion in about 1189. There are official poets laureate in Scotland, Wales, Canada, the US, South Africa, plus a number of smaller countries, states and even US cities. Australia has no-one. Does this mean we are bereft of candidates for such an honour or, as a people, without appreciation of what is the noblest of all forms of art and culture?"

I agree! We NEED a poet laureate if we are to shrug off our entrenched philistinism.

And that's why I'm putting my hand up!

Spread the word! Agitate, write to your MP and your local paper, shout it from the rooftops, send me money and saucy photos! Every little helps!

Together, we can make ME poet laureate, and usher in Australia's New Golden Age!!!!

Latest at newmatilda.com

The States are in a state.

Dark Signs

Seen on a sign at San Churro Chocolateria:

"Hey, Dads love chocolate. Why not pick him up something special from San Churro? And while you're here, get a treat for yourself (he'll never know)."

Now, let's leave aside for a moment the implication that the ability to produce viable sperm is inextricably linked to a hunger for the derivations of the cacao bean ("My genes are transmitted. Now for a Mars Bar").

What I am interested in here is the suggestion that, if you are to go to San Churro to get a Father's Day confection for your dear old dad, and if while there you choose to indulge in a bit of the sweet stuff yourself, you are best advised to keep it to yourself.

What exactly are the consequences of your father finding out that you got something for yourself? Is San Churro saying that while Dad will be delighted to get chocolate as a gift, if he discovers that you had some chocolate of your own, there'll be hell to pay? Will Dad get violent? Will the situation be something like this:

Upon receiving chocolate:



Upon finding out that his child has also had chocolate:




I'm just really worried about all these unstable fathers going around ready to snap at the slightest suggestion their children have been eating chocolate.

A Cause For Celebration

It's sometimes hard to process all of the different issues swirling about us in the world today. Trying to make sense of religion, and politics, and economics, entertainment, art, celebrity, the nature of good and evil. Such a bewildering array of information sources assail us today, giving contradictory views. It can induce intellectual and moral paralysis to make any attempt to discern the right way to think and to act.

With that in mind, it is a sweet and refreshing change when a development comes along that relieves us of the ambivalence and doubt plaguing our every step, and crystallises everything elegantly and beautifully.

So thank God, say I, for the news that on Wednesday some scientists are going to turn on a machine that will destroy the world.

The Large Hadron Collider is set to make all our worries and cares wonderfully irrelevant. So let's all sit back and relax.

First They Came For Carlton

New Matilda up now - and I've updated the links at the side to include more recent articles for your browsing pleasure. How dare you say I do nothing for you.

Blow, Girls, Blow!

Probably-respected Aboriginal academic Mark Rose has slammed the publishers of the Australian version of The Daring Book For Girls, because it shows girls how to play the didgeridoo.

Is this out of a negative assessment for the female lung capacity? No.

Is it a Jerry Lewis-style assertion that not only are women not funny, they're not gifted with woodwinds either? No.

Is it just brainless sexism wrapped up as cultural mystique? No.

The truth is far more terrible. Mark Rose is stricken with fear for poor girls who may attempt to carry out the Daring Book's instructions, because...

Playing the didgeridoo causes women to become infertile.

Yes! A barren fate awaits those girls who feel like quick tootle, says Dr Rose, demonstrating the calm reason and scientific thinking that marks him as a giant of academe.

The issue's got him in an absolute panic, so concerned is he for the fairer sex. Teaching a girl to play the didgeridoo is like encouraging her to play with razor blades, he says, although I must take issue with him here. If my daughter is to become infertile, better she do it with a didgeridoo than with razor blades. The didgeridoo, after all, won't cause flesh wounds, and at least she'll be able to amuse herself with music as she lives out her childless life and dies alone.

Rose says the publishers committed an "extreme cultural indiscretion". But I say it is YOU, doctor, who have committed the extreme indiscretion: you have caused Andrew Bolt to sound reasonable.

And that's unforgivable*.

*although I still can't quite see why Andrew thinks talking to whales is "oppressive"...

Don't Waste Men

I have written for newmatilda on the man drought. Please, be careful with your man-use. Try to save men at every opportunity. Don't let your unwanted men wash down the drain.

In the Bendigo Advertiser, Mary-Anne Pool of Strathfieldsaye writes:

"Hands up all you Victorians out there who think the practice of child sacrifice to foreign gods is abhorrent.
Yep, that ’s what I thought. No one in this great state of ours would condone the slaughter of children as a sacrifice to the gods.
And yet, is not abortion the sacrifice of an unborn child to the gods of convenience and selfishness?"

....

Uh...

No, Mary-Anne, no it's not. Sorry, you...

FAIL

However, it may be true that letters to the editor of the Bendigo Advertiser are sort of like sacrifices to the gods of idiots.

Issues - Think About It

Rounding up some opinions today:

Sticking it to private schools - good for the soul.

Also, you probably won't die from terrorism, but the government is screwing you.

And if you're in the mood for a laugh, see how an article about Australians' inability to take any criticism in the sphere of culture and the arts, inspired by the comments of a British music journalist, turns, in the comments, into a vicious and abusive bitchfight about Israel.

On the Olympics

I reflect upon the Olympics in my latest newmatilda column. Enjoy it or else.

Gather Up Your Bombs

So the Victorian government will probably legalise abortion sometime soon. The Bill has been put forward, it's being debated, and the odds look to be - just - with the pro-choice side.

Of course I mean "legalise" in the sense of "remove from the Crimes Act", rather than the sense of "allow to happen with no repercussions for those involved", since that's what happens already and has done for years.

This is, naturally, controversial, with the usual noises about baby-killing from the usual people, like Bill Muehlenberg, who is himself an excellent counter-argument to the "what if Beethoven had been aborted?" argument. And of course Mirko Bagaric has weighed in, saying abortion should be completely criminalised and nevr allowed under any circumstances; given his previous forays into public life, most likely he is worried that if we abort too many people, there won't be enough left to torture. Or maybe he is thinking, what if Tony Mokbel had been aborted? Then Mirko would have nobody to pay him large amounts of money to try to avoid the justice system. Oh, Mirko, how terrible that would be, and what a moral giant you truly are.

Pro-lifers are wheeling out the usual schtick: zygotes are people too, if something looks a bit like a baby it is one, culture of death, God God God etc.

The funny one is the argument that more people will have abortions now. Imagine all those girls, desperate for the fun and excitement of an abortion, who are prevented from having one now by the fact there is a never-enforced law against it. The minute it's no longer a crime they will rush out and fulfil their perverted abortionary lusts. Why wouldn't they? Abortion is something these kids do for kicks! So we mustn't make it legal. Let's keep things as they are, with abortion being available pretty much anytime anyone wants it, rather than changing things to make abortion available pretty much anytime anyone wants it. Otherwise the abortion rate will surely skyrocket!

It's sometimes hard, when I write, to decide whether to make jokes about a situation or simply put down the stream of bellowed obscenities running through my head when I listen to pro-lifers like Bill "Feel the Love" Muehlenberg.

This is the curious thing: here are people who believe the government is sanctioning murder. They think the aborted foetuses are in fact fully-fledged people. They think thousands upon thousands of children are being slaughtered every year. Wow, that's pretty awful. It's like Rwanda or something. Right here in our country. Better do something about it, right?

"Let's write a letter to the Herald Sun! That is LITERALLY how angry the issue makes me!"

Seriously? You think this is mass infanticide and you're writing letters? You're asking for Medicare funding to be withdrawn? Some of you, like Mirko, would even allow exceptions for victims of rape or incest and so forth.

Doesn't seem very moral of you, Mirko. You're willing to let children be killed because their mother was raped? That's terrible!

Imagine if people were taking their children to the doctors to have them killed. One-year-old, five-year-old, ten-year-old children. Imagine if this was approved by the government. Imagine if this happened thousands of times a year.

Horrible, yes?

This is what pro-lifers think is happening now. According to them, anyway. They say that's what it's all about: killing children who have as much right to life as any of us. Killing people. It's not, they say, about wanting to control women, or about wanting to punish those nasty sluts who get themselves pregnant because they can't keep their legs together. According to them, they believe that government-sanctioned homicide is occurring daily.

And they write letters and opinion pieces and have civilised debates about it, and argue over government funding, and how to "reduce the rate", and talk about the psychological effect on the woman, and say maybe it's OK to murder kids if mum got pregnant in an unpleasant way.

Seriously? If you think this is a slaughter of the innocents, you should be taking to the streets, screaming it long and loud, getting violent, doing everything you physically can to prevent the little kiddies being killed.

How can you sleep at night, pro-lifers, when you think of all the children being murdered and all you did to stop it was a fifty-word email? How do you sleep? Hey, you know it's happening; it's not going on a thousand miles away in the Third World. It's right here in your town. You can go down to the clinic, you can block the doorways, you can grab those potential pregnant murderers, take them away at gunpoint and hold them till they deliver. You can have a go at taking out the politicians who allow this with a sniper rifle. Sure, you could get hurt, you could get arrested, but don't you have to try?

In short, pro-lifers, blow up a clinic, or shut the fuck up.

Ah, student rebellion, you've come so far.

Remember when uni students were always getting crazy and standing up to the man and mocking the institutions of our society?

Macquarie University's student services organisation, U@MQ, has driven the editors of the uni's student newspaper to resignation by interfering with editorial decisions, sanitising stories and objecting to satire.

Hey, U@MQ, why you gotta be such dicks?

"Deirdre Anderson, the chief executive of U@MQ, said students were never forbidden to publish anything, but they were asked on several occasions to reconsider articles that some students might not appreciate."

Oh dear yes, Deirdre. Please continue on your ceaseless quest to prevent anyone not appreciating things.

I shall be starting a new charity, Humour Guides For Humanity.

HGFH's quest will be to provide all humourless folk across the land with their own Humour Guide, who will accompany them in public and point out to them when humour is being deployed, so that they do not suffer the embarrassment of looking like a complete Deirdre when they fail to recognise that something is a joke or satire. The Guides will also run group classes, where the afflicted can learn about humour and why it is a good thing to try to "get".

Give generously. It's not too late to save Macquarie Uni.

Don't mix sport and politics

Just remember, the important thing is the Olympic spirit.

Deep Thoughts

Just a quick plug for a clever fellow. One should check him out if one is interested in thinking deeply about theology and philosophy and such.

Thangs

Incidentally, for those of you of a Victorian persuasion, I'll be performing at Thangs Cafe, 502 Lygon Street, East Brunswick, from 8pm on Thursday August 21. Also an open mic section for aspiring poets.

Australia: loves watersports

And so, what can we learn from the Olympics thus far? Australia currently sits on 11 gold medals, one behind Great Britain, but most of their medals don't actually count because they were won in silly meaningless sports like cycling and "49ers", which is a special kind of sailing where everybody gets in boats and travels back in time to the California goldrush. On the other hand, Australia has been winning medals in muscular, robust sports like "two person dinghy", where two people row a small wooden boat around and around in circles in a duck pond for several hours; and triathlon, a sport where small sinewy women put on big sunglasses and throw water on themselves.

The funny thing is, Australia has so far won all its gold medals in sports involving water, although Tamsyn Lewis has failed to make the 800m final despite looking a lot like a fish.

Most importantly, we have learnt from the media a valuable lesson in how to deal with a complete failure of conscious thought processes. When your neurons misfire and you literally cannot think of anything useful to say, the default "out" for the enterprising idiot is to simply blurt out any sentence beginning with the words "if Michael Phelps was a country".

"If Michael Phelps was a country he'd be fifth on the medals table"

"If Michael Phelps was a country he'd be well ahead of Australia, Canada and New Zealand"

"If Michael Phelps was a country he'd have lush green fields and a thriving agrarian economy"

"If Michael Phelps was a country he would strike quickly to secure the town of Gori"

Interestingly enough, if Tamsyn Lewis was a country she'd be dead last on the medal table and crippled by fire blight. And most of her citizens would be unemployed and clinically depressed.

Perhaps the most interesting element of the media coverage has been watching the press gradually come to the realisation that there are not as many good puns on Stephanie Rice's name as it seemed at first.

"Steaming Rice"..."Rice crackers"...er...."hot Rice?"

Seriously, "hot Rice?" That's not even a pun; ANYTHING can be hot! If "hot Rice" can be legitimately used as a pun, where will it end? Hot Diamond? Hot Callus? Hot Tomkins? That's just pathetic.

Thank God for Usain Bolt, who has allowed the sub-editors to move on from stupid rice puns and take up stupid bolt puns. "Nuts about Bolt"; "Bolt from the blue"; "Hot Bolt" etc.

Just wait till the Kookaburras hockey team takes gold. See how often "laughing kookaburras" are mentioned.

So let's all cheer for Sally McLellan in the hurdles, because I really want to see what sort of puns can be made on "McLellan".

The Economy

Why you will never understand it, at newmatilda.com.

Wet Hot Beijing Summer

And so the Olympic Games are finally upon us. Some highlights so far:

- Australian Michael Rogers bravely coming sixth in the men's road race behind some rather insipid and dishonest foreigners.

- Australian Michael Diamond bravely coming fourth in the men's trap shoot behind some unhinged and dangerous overseas types.

- Polish volleyballer Anna Podolec's shorts.

These highlights had varying aftermaths. Rogers took his agonising and frankly unfair defeat with good grace and humour, whereas Diamond climbed the Great Wall and began picking off tourists, killing eighteen before turning his gun on himself. Podolec's shorts, on the other hand, are unlikely to end well.

The BIGGEST news, of course, is Aussie "golden girl" Stephanie Rice, who overcame the handicap of having to fit a swimming cap over sixty kilograms of hair to break a world record and claim gold in the women's 400m individual medley. Touchingly, Rice says that her family and friends are "among the most important things for her". Which is nice.

Not THE most important thing of course. Just among them. Somewhere above underwear commercials, but a little below wearing sexy policewoman costumes, on the importance scale.

But in any case, she did marvellously well, as did Aussie "golden girl" Libby Trickett", nee Lenton, who managed to win the 100m butterfly without once hiding from photographers inside a tent. For her efforts, Trickett will receive an Order of Australia Medal and a fine wedge of Swiss cheese to gnaw on. She celebrated her victory by hitting the bars of Beijing, where she spent the night lifting cars above her head and tearing bouncers apart with her bare hands.

Other observations from the Olympics' first few days:

- It only takes about seven minutes for judo to go from "why am I watching these two idiots make feeble attempts to grab each other's sleeves?" to "oh no, quick, grab her sleeve she's going to trip you now throw her OH NO SHE GOT YOU DOWN WE LOST!"

- A volleyball team's libero makes not much sense even after you've looked it up on Wikipedia.

- The designers of the cycling road race route, in what seems an eminently sensible approach, are intent on killing as many cyclists as possible.

All this and still so much more to go. Will Michael Phelps achieve his goal of forty gold medals by winning every swimming event, the synchronised diving and the heptathlon? Can Aussie "golden girl" Liesel Jones achieve the gold medal that has eluded her for so many years, sparing the world another four years' sulking? Are the coxless pairs as amusing as they sound? I for one cannot look away.

Go Now!

China and Me.

The Burdens Of Office

I think possibly the most amusing thing about the current Collingwood footballers drink-driving saga - and there is plenty there to choose from - is that Eddie McGuire, when berating the playing group, told them that being president of Collingwood had cost him "four or five Gold Logies".

I suppose at this time we should take the opportunity to express our gratitude to the Collingwood Football Club for sparing us this.

He also apparently told Ben Johnson he was fat, which seems to me a little off-topic, like he became incoherent with rage and simply started spouting off random insults.

"You embarrassed me and you embarrassed the club and you're stupid and you've got to grow up and I just...I just...you're fat...you're fat and you're stupid and shut up and and and you smell and I HATE YOU!"

The Measure of a Man

Here's a question: What do Adolf Hitler, Mao Tse Tung, Ernest Hemingway and Sarah Bernhard have in common?

Answer: they all have their own Wikipedia page.

Another answer: they are all more famous than me.

These things, I can't help thinking, are connected.

Of course, I can't make my own Wikipedia page for two reasons:

1) it would make me look slightly more desperate than this blog post does, and

2) I don't really know much about myself.

With any luck somebody will write my Wikipedia page soon, including the unsubstantiated rumour about my sordid rendezvous with Holly Robinson. Who, incidentally, has her own Wikipedia page. Feel free to edit it to mention my sordid rendezvous with her.

With any luck, once this little matter is sorted out, I will quickly become as famous as Hitler, or at least as famous as this guy. My activities are not as dramatic as his, but they do often seem to have just as little justification.

Incidentally, those of a Melbourne persuasion might want to come to the Bat Slam at Bar Open, 317 Brunswick Street Fitzroy this Wednesday night. A poetry slam with a Batman theme, I shall be there getting a shamelessly low score from ignorant judges, and the marvellous Geoff Lemon will be the feature performer. Fun times.

Never Can Say Goodbye

What does Ben think of Peter Costello, I hear you ask,

Thank the good Lord you don't have to wonder any longer!

New Matilda now!

HELP! GAYS!

Former Victorian premier and current Hawthorn Football Club president Jeff Kennett succumbs to his constant fear that his face will seize up if he keeps his mouth shut, and backs a football club that sacked a trainer for being gay.

Jeff is worried that if you let a gay man massage other men it "ran an unnecessary risk".

"It's the same if you have a pedophile there as a masseur, right?" said Mr Kennett, showing that endearing sensitivity that made him such a beloved political figure.

Indeed it is, Jeff - in fact, the previous 22 years the chap spent working for the football club were probably just a clever, slow-burning ruse, waiting for the perfect moment to out himself, upon which he would seize his opportunity and start raping everyone in sight.

So naturally, the football club did the right thing. Somebody has to take a stand before these gays start thinking of themselves as people.

In News Limited papers, Robbo and Ando discussed the issue with equal sophistication and intelligence. Apparently Ando and Robbo "both know where Jeff's coming from". Also, they admire Jeff, because "at least he speaks his mind".

So when you email Robbo and Ando to point out that they are oafish halfwits perpetrating a laughable mockery of the word "journalism", you will get a speedy reply commending you on how well you speak your mind. Since forthrightness is all that matters, after all.

Enlightenment in Speedos

Today's front page of the Herald Sun: Grant Hackett says some Olympic athletes will take drugs.

Coming soon: Grant Hackett says swimming can be "hard on the arms".

Grant Hackett says the Olympics "will be in China this year, but not next time".

Grant Hackett says horses "can run faster than men".

Grant Hackett says Ian Thorpe is a little effeminate.

What next, from Gorgeous Grant's Amazing Repository Of The Hog-Buggeringly Obvious?

Whatever it is, rest assured the Herald Sun will be right on the spot to make sure it is given prominence over and above anything else happening in the world that day.


(Cross-posted in Polliegraph)

Thank You For Being A Friend - An Obituary

The world of showbusiness, indeed the world of people, lost a giant last week, when Estelle Getty, beloved star of The Golden Girls, passed away at the age of 84.

It's hard to put into words the influence that Estelle had on me and my career. I never met her, and yet I feel that she has, in a way, been with me for many years. I think she was a kind woman, a gentle woman, with an eternal twinkle in her eye and always ready and willing to offer advice and comfort in times of trouble. "E-Get", as her friends may have liked to call her, was the grandmother we all wished we had, instead of the demented alcoholic we were actually burdened with.

Estelle Getty first came to prominence, of course, in the pivotal role of "middle-aged woman" in Tootsie, stealing every scene she was in (one). But this was merely a tasty prelude to her searing portrayal of Claire Prince Timkin in 1987's hit romantic comedy/social satire Mannequin, where, in the words of Leonard Maltin, she "blew Kim Cattrall off the screen" with a performance that was by turns tender, uproarious and erotic, the sizzling sexual electricity between Estelle and Steve Vinovich as BJ Wert making the movie a true tour de force (Vinovich, like Estelle, would make his mark in situation comedy, reducing millions to tears with his role as Sandy Duncan's ex-husband in Valerie's Family.

No doubt it was the versatility and indefinable animal magnetism she showed in Mannequin that had won her the role of Sophia Petrillo in The Golden Girls, a role which began by defining Estelle, and ended up defining America in the 1980s.

Sophia was a representation of the American Dream; an elderly, incontinent immigrant with ties to organised crime, she straddled the divide between the old world, represented by the Golden Girls, and the new, represented by Dorothy's ne'er-do-well musician son Michael. With exquisite comic timing coupled with a flair for pathos, Estelle breathed vivid life into the tiny, sarcastic, dirty-minded Sicilian grandmother, and we laughed, cried and cheered along with her as she exposed the harsh realities of living in the same house as a slut, a moron and a gigantic, sexually unappealing daughter. We could relate.

For me, The Golden Girls opened up a whole new world that I hadn't imagined existed. Having spent my childhood thinking comedy began and ended with Allo Allo and It Ain't Half Hot Mum, I hadn't realised that comedy could be different - it could be intelligent and daring and avant-garde. You could make jokes about oestrogen and trading your eldest daughter for a donkey, you could racially abuse Scandinavians and have sex with Jack Gilford, and if you gave it enough chutzpah, you could pull it off. I've never forgotten these lessons - they permeate all of my work in one way or another.

And that's why I'm still a little bit teary that Estelle has left us. But though she's gone, she's living on within us all, and we will remember her as she was: wise...



stylish...



sensual...



dashing...



and psychotic...




All things to all men, Estelle, we will never forget you.

There is an extra serve of cheesecake in Heaven tonight.

Go Now!

I write about climate change in New Matilda.

What a life you lead

Cross-posted on Polliegraph.

Ron Delezio has been officially overwhelmed.

As he says, "This is the best thing that's ever happened apart from Sophie's survival from her accidents - just unreal."

Mind you, when the best thing that's ever happened to you is your daughter not quite dying, perhaps the bar has been set slightly low.

The Pope meanwhile, as God's vessel upon Earth, has said the Lord will take Sophie's request to please stop trying to kill her "into consideration", along with other submissions on the matter from bodies including Satan and the Association of Elderly Motorists (AEM).

All That He Toucheth...

Policeman dies after being blessed by Pope

Pope Benedict XVI has once more applied the Touch of Death to a devout follower, continuing his trail of carnage throughout the civilised world. Apparently God was not satisfied with giving the poor copper multiple cancers, he had to send his hired goon to finish the job.

OK, here's the most disturbing aspect, for me, of this story - the following paragraph:

"In a touching moment, the pontiff donned Snr Const Hill's police hat and reportedly kept it after mistaking it for a gift."

So the light-fingered old Papa doesn't just kill the guy - he steals his HAT? So he can go home and play cops and robbers at St Peter's?

And the paper refers to it as a "touching moment" - rather than what it actually was - a felony.

A more accurate way of describing the situation would be: "In a callous act of blatant larceny, the pontiff donned Snr Const Hill's police hat and reportedly kept it in an attempt to magnify his family's grief and pain by taking from them what would have been a precious memento of a loved one.

So yeah, next time you meet the Pope, keep one hand on your wallet.


In other news, the Pope yesterday became hungry and grabbed a quick snack:

The Irresistible Lure...

A commercial for the new "cycle" of America's Next Top Model, wherein an aspiring contestant reveals she is a mother:

Contestant: I'm a mommy, and it's really hard being apart, especially cos I'm breastfeeding...

Tyra: So you're Fed-exing the milk?

Contestant: Well right now, I'm drinking it.

You know, I do not think I can wait a moment longer before watching this show. Previous seasons have shown us bitching, emotional breakdowns, tantrums, bullying, vague hints of nudity, and stunning stupidity, but I think most would agree that self-suckling has been the missing ingredient holding it back from greatness.

What happened to you China? You used to be cool

Olympics crack down on fun.

"Beijing CBD businesses are reporting increasingly bizarre restrictions on couriers. This includes a ban on transporting CD-ROMs through the city, and mobile phones or GPS devices can only be sent if their batteries are delivered separately. This is on top of postal restrictions on sending liquids and powders."

That's not that bizarre. If they were serious about bizarre restrictions on couriers, they would require them all to ride penny farthings and carry everything in their mouths.

"Beijing police have been visiting bar owners in the popular Sanlitun area and asking them to sign pledges agreeing to not serve black people or Mongolians and ban activities including dancing."

That shouldn't cause too much of a stir, really - traditionally, black people play very little part in the Olympic Games.

It's a fairly bigoted article actually, in that the fears of a "no-fun" Olympics really only apply to those who don't find repression of ethnic minorities fun.

And how many of us can honestly say that?

Article

New piece by me at nematilda.com about the decline and fall of Big Brother.

Living Your Faith

Catholic Bishop to schoolgirl rape victims: why so cranky?



Bishop Anthony Fisher, seen here whistling merrily to his woodland friends, cannot believe people are trying to ruin his super happy Catholic joyfest by harping on about petty inconsequentialities like child rape.

One of the victims, Emma Foster, has already done the decent thing by the church by committing suicide at the age of 26, while her sister Katherine "drank heavily before being left disabled when hit by a drunk driver in 1999". If only, Bishop Fisher laments, more people would be as resourceful as those two in finding their own solutions to their problems, rather than spoil everyone else's day by complaining about everything.

I hear you, Bish. What is up with people? Waa, waa, rape this, child abuse that. If we all stopped our mindless Catholic-bashing for just a second, perhaps we could focus on the REAL issues, such as the Pope's love of marsupials.

Eye on the ball, people.

The Last Shall Be First

And so, this is a blog, in its own way. The first post of a new blog is always a bit awkward, isn't it? You find yourself thinking, "Should it be a simple greeting, should it just be an amusing picture of a cat, or should I hit them straightaway with the full force of my scathing critique of the World Trade Organisation?" In a way, I am attempting all three, although in another way, I'm attempting none of them.

The main point I wish for you to absorb is that this IS a blog, and I will be putting things on it which you can look at, and you can tell all your friends about it and secretly lust over me and so forth. If you're here reading this, it's probably because you already, to some extent, either like or dislike me, so hopefully I can sustain your interest.

So without further ado, let me present benpobjie.blogspot.com's FIRST-EVER LINK!

Which is this: in case you haven't yet read it, my latest scurrilous attack on decent people here.

And with that out of the way, please leave comments below on the theme of one of the following:

- Hi!

- I love you!

- Here is what I want from a blog

- I have lots of money would you like some?

Bye for now.