What would you say?

We all have a wise person in our lives who said, “If you haven’t got anything nice to say then do not say anything at all”.  Let us expand on this very sound piece of advice to read, “If you haven’t got any thing of value to say then do not say anything at all”.  I will venture that it is nigh on impossible to get any two people to arrive at a consensus and agree what is of value. Of value to whom?
Can we say, for simplicity’s sake, that any random words set forth will eventually settle in a place wherein someone would find value in them. So to follow this logic means that whatever we say has some value, correct? Then let us throw open the shutters and stand before an open window shouting whatever we please. Oh wait, silly me, that’s what Facebook is for.  Facebook and the plethora of other platforms the world wide web gives us.


I would like you to come with me, here take my hand. We shall stroll over yonder, it’s not far, and we shall find a stage.  Step through these curtains, OK yes you may peek first if it pleases you. But please verify that there is no audience.  That’s right you have the entire stage to yourself.  Go forth and take your place front and centre, sans spotlight (this thing is already dramatic enough).

What is it that you would like to say? You may say or do whatever you please, go ahead, the acoustics are wonderful. You have the floor, uncontested but no audience.

What would you say if you knew no one was listening?



Sand in his Vagina – a poem

Disclaimer : The following poem is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.


There once was a man, a miner

who got some sand in his vagina

All day long he would whinge and moan

His face contorted with grimace and groan

Until all suspected angina.


Sex Drugs and Other Fun Things

(Disclaimer this post contains comments on the happenings of Australian Politics  please wade through, the point of the post is a few paragraphs in)

I usually wouldn’t make comments about politics as I consider it to be rude and unnecessary, like farting at the dinner table. Also you guys have better things to do than listen to more political crap when you’ve taken the time to visit my wonderful blog. Thanks by the way. But today it suits my purpose and so without further ado:

Those of you who have been following the usual back and fro banter, he said/she said, MUM! Tony pulled the head off my doll! TONY!! go to your room.  Julia dear, no one likes a dobber, that passes for political debate you will know all about this.  The opposition was giving it to Labor about the Singer case in which the speaker of the house is in the poop about some sexist text messages he sent to a former staffer.  Our Julia (I vote that she is to be hence forth known as Our Julia. We’ve had Our Sally the Olympic gold winning runner and Our Jill the tragic murder victim so why not Our Julia the PM?) responded with a sledgehammer of a speech and battered Tony (Opposition Leader). That speech then exploded in the socialmediasphere. Basically Our Julia told Tony in no uncertain terms that she would not be lectured about sexism and then called him a misogynist. A very basic synopsis. You can watch it here if you like. It’s actually pretty good.

I can’t understand what all the fuss is about, yeah what was said by Slipper deserves to be denounced and he will get his just deserts, but the commentators are acting as though these types of comments are out of keeping with Australia society. Um, have they spent any time in a pub lately? Or sat in a brew shed at smoko and listened to the banter? Some of the things I hear on a regular basis is abhorrent, seriously if you spent any amount of time in the world I live in you’d be left in need of a good scrub with bleach and a Brillo pad. Perhaps this is a reflection of the company I keep. Hey I work in a male dominated industry so those types of comments are normal, just part of the conversation. A sad reflection yes. Misogyny is alive and well in our society.

Do I feel any animosity towards these blokes? Fathers, sons and brothers all. No I don’t and I’ll tell you why. Yes I believe what the things they say are, to be frank, seriously fucked up. Do i believe they really mean the things they say? In most case I don’t believe that they do and now (finally) we reach the point of the post.

They just don’t think.

They are four scariest words I’ve ever heard.  Words that are beyond terrifying to me, never ceasing to cause shivers to run up my spine and a ball to form in the pit of my stomach. Why is it so? How can one not think about what they are saying or doing? We are all guilty of it, myself included. For the record, I am no saint and guilty of many sins.

How can it be so? I believe this quote explains why.

It is as follows:

Thinking has always required effort and courage. Effort because it declines easy acceptance of dogma and submission to decisions made by others. Courage because the void it reveals is comfortless, the responsibility burdensome.

This is the most influential  piece of writing I’ve ever read. It is from a book entitled “The Evil That Men Do” written by Brian Masters. If you get a chance read it. Ever since I first came across it I have quoted this whenever I’ve had an opportunity and many times when I didn’t. It is a call to arms. A very tall order. A bar set high.
Mull it over.
If you made it this far thanks for sticking with it.

I have a dirty little secret to share

I love performance art. The more ridiculous the better. Wait. Stop.Correction. I love making performance art. This is a performance from 2005 entitled “The Coca Performance”. The image quality is beyond terrible, but the soundtrack kicks arse.

A brief description of the performance: I am a high priest preparing to make a sacrifice at the alter of the coke god. The three temple priestess’ are holding on silken pillows 1. A ceremonial knife 2. The sacrifice (a can of Pepsi) 3. $1.20 in change.