When goods do not cross borders, soldiers will.

It might explain the popularity of the gang then. Geilston Bay Skate Park, Geilston Bay. December 2011.

In today's Sunday Top Five I'm tackling a serious social issue: homophobia. As the two photos today attest, insults relating to once sexual preference retain their currency to a strong degree, particularly among the warring Risdon Vale Boys versus Geilston Bay Boys [GBB 4 EVA!] and Sk8ers versus Scooters [Scooter Represent!]

Today I propose moving on from the typical dreary, pathetic and frightened wimperings of a group of young men that clearly need a) a good hug and b) a swift kick to a new form of insult. Yes, if we're going to slur entire communities, let's make sure that they're deserving.

So today I offer you My Top Five Groups Of People Who We Should Encourage Young People To Speak About In More Demeaning Ways Instead Of Always Picking On The Homosexuals Who Already Have It Hard Enough!

Bankers: RVB OFFER UNCOMPETITIVE INTEREST RATES AND FEES ON ALL CREDIT CARD ACCOUNTS!

Lawyers: JOHNNO PREFERS TORTS ON FRIDAY NIGHTS!

Bureaucrats: JAYDEN CHAIRS INTERGOVERNMENTAL FISCAL STANDING COMMITTEES JUST PHONE 0464 555 555!

Medical professionals: BODY BOARDERS CLAIM FOR A LONG CONSULT ON MEDICARE WHEN IN REALITY THEY ONLY SEE PATIENTS FOR A SHORT CONSULT THUS COSTING TAXPAYERS 4EVA!

Mobile Phone Companies: JACK AND EBONEE NO FREE ROAMING WITHOUT HEAVY PENALTY FEES!

Now that's just plain rude. Geilston Bay Skate Park, Geilston Bay. December 2011.

Comments

Kris McCracken said…

Hmmmmm.

13 December 2011 at 08:14

smudgeon said…

How did I miss this one? Your best Top 5 yet.

I always favour the cost of McDonalds as an insult. For instance, Pokey's mum goes to Maccas and pays $3.50 for a McFlurry. It hasn't yet failed to get me threatened by the piss-weak and the perplexed alike...

16 December 2011 at 10:12

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

This will hurt me...

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