Ever get the feeling someone is watching you?

Dramatic Lemur

Dramatic Chipmunk

Allow me to take this opportunity to retract any statements I may have made that may or may not have suggested that YouTube was inane and/or pointless. After viewing all of the available evidence it seems clear that I was wrong.. so very, very wrong.

Even more inane banter coming soon. It's Monday, and the weekend was pretty, so cut me some slack. Or give me a beer. I'm easy either way.

Ahh Theology

Is there anything it can't answer?

My favourite quotes:

1. If we evolved from monkeys, then how come we can't speak monkey?
   
   
   My mum always said I was 1/8 Cherokee, but I knew something wasn't right when I accidentally incinerated the garden shed when attempting to send smoke signals. Furthermore, my name isn't prefixed with 'running' or 'dancing'. It's just Dave sadly.
   
   


2. You got it backwards. Creationism is based upon science, reason and tons of evidence. Evolution is based on the blind acceptance of superstitions and fairy tales.
   
   
   Now I'm really confused. Evolution is the one about the chick evolving out of a dude's rib and that other guy evolving water into wine, right?
   
   


3. I can sum it all up in three words: Evolution is a lie
   
   
   Sorry, I only got as far as 'Evolution is a'
   
   
   and finally...
   
   


4. A missionary I knew watched a bullet headed for him do a RIGHT ANGLE before it got to him.
   
   
   Surprising: that missionaries have the ability to see speeding bullets.
   Not surprising: that missionaries are being routinely shot at.
   
   
   
   

Kerblammo!

Amazon announced recently that they have decided to diversify their already extensive product range. Recovered artifacts from the Pacific Rim you think? Pft, old hat. Titillating under garments for the bedroom connoisseur perchance? Ho hum. Depleted isotopic weapons grade uranium?

Wheee!

How much fun could you have with this stuff? I bet it could make all kinds of explosions. And you know, assuming you don't have the necessary brain thinkery to setup another Chernobyl-esk fireworks display, you and your trusty can of u-238 could always provide the local Pets Paradise store with a horde of jive talking ninja types.

This is sounding better by the minute. Just have a listen to all the satisfied customer feedback:

An adequate solution...., November 30, 2007
by Chris Gladis "Chris"

I have to admit, I've tried many different power sources for my orbiting satellite death beam, and nothing does it like good old U-238. If you've never held an entire nation hostage for your maniacal whims (I always ask for my ransom in kittens), then you haven't lived yet. And this can make it happen!

Does anyone else suddenly feel unfulfilled due to a distinct lack of orbiting satellite death beams in their lives? Yo mum! Scratch that homemade beanie for Christmas, I'm now in the market for a bitchin' space laser. Yes, yes, I'll be careful.

Better than Ovaltine. , November 30, 2007

by J. Stanfield

When mixed with Tuscan whole milk I gained the power to control deceased woodland creatures. I am now in the process of raising an army of undead wombats to overthrow the government from deep within my volcanic lair. Soon you all will bow down before the wombat king!

Ok, I'm now seeing that there could be some drawbacks to this whole 'playing with radiation' thing. Not that I'm saying an army of mutated wombats wouldn't have its charms, just that they would be more disarming when controlled by someone less, well, volcano-like. Like me for instance. I'm very un-volcano-like. People have always said that I'm your more 'meadow' type of guy. Plus, my mutant wombats would be all awesome and friendly and house-trained, like Fatso from A Country Practice.

Anyway, I think I've clearly demonstrated how great this product is. I'm going to order a crate as soon as it comes back into stock. You're all welcome to chuck in, but please be aware that I have a strict security protocol to ensure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. Basically you can't be Russian, or the Shredder, or live in a volcano.

For everyone else it's party time.



All customer feedback reproduced from Amazon. Original link. Seriously, I didn't make this up.

Big ups

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Will Styles for Cleo Bachelor of the Year

Will received this email in his inbox the other day:

Hey guys,

See below re: Cleo’s Bachelor of the Year.

It’s always good to have some DJs in this competition, so if you’re interested & single (see requirements below), please get back to me & I’ll be happy to forward your details onto Jo @ Cleo.

It’s a bit of fun also, so don’t be embarrassed :)

Thanks, Angie x

-------

So CLEO Bachelor is about to start up yet again.

We’ll be locking down this year’s crop of 50 bachelors over the next month and shooting around Australia in early December.

I’m sending this to you in the hope that you’ll suggest any suitable talent who you think are CLEO Bachelor material.

Looking for young-ish (no older than 35), unattached* boys who are not only hot, but successful and have a bit of charisma. All we need is a happy snap and a few basic details:

• Name
• Age
• Occupation
• City they reside in
• Contact phone and email or publicist contact
• Plus a few words (100 max) on why they’d make a great CLEO Bachelor.
  

(NB: * by ”unattached” we’d prefer single, but if they’re dating someone and it’s not too serious – i.e. they’re not living together or haven’t been together for a few years – then they will be considered).

Email any suggestions to xxxx@xxxxxx.com.au and please circulate to anyone you think may be interested!

Thanks!

He contacted me pretty soon afterwards, and we began a thorough investigation of the material in earnest. Although we both agreed that morally we could not condone a competition that so ruthlessly grades one man's worth over another, we still could not deny the fact that Will had a fairly solid shot at the title. He had placed very well in Mad Magazine's Alfred E Nueman Lookalike of the Year competition only a few weeks prior, indeed, had almost gone home with the coveted sash. We decided to go for it.

To allay our ethical concerns, we promptly concluded that the amount of good Will could accomplish after being crowned El Macho Bacho would eclipse any harm done in promoting the event. After all, there were still all those starving kids in like, that country with all the dust. It was common knowledge that most of them didn't even have decent iPods!!

Concentrating on this fact, we got down to the persnickety business of constructing Wills application.

To whom it may concern,

Will Styles, Sydney DJ and cafe socialite, is spry, entertainingly dim-witted and turns a distinct shade of mauve when shaken violently. His antics as the last guy to leave every party are only matched by his susceptibility to lose an argument with a chair for 3 days straight.

Although he would love to win the competition, I am sure he fears that all the attention would distract him from his true calling of collecting arm-pit fungi. A keen amateur biologist, Will breeds them into new strains of super-fungi, such as his favourites Parisite Hilton, Sir Scratchalot and Allyourhairis Allfalloffus.

Will would be a great choice for Cleo Bachelor of the Year because there is no doubt in my mind he will be a bachelor for the rest of his life, and when she reads about him, I'm sure your reader will definitely agree. [Singular intentional.]

Warmest personal regards,
David.

We're still waiting for a response. They were probably just so beguiled by Will's 'come hither' look that they're still trying to find the words to express their infatuation. Anyway, I expect that any day now they'll send the limo packed with babes, so I'll keep you posted.

Wanna Be In My Gang

Yep, this is how I spend my time when I should be looking for work.

UPDATE:
Sarah got back to me:

To dear David 'Not so nice' Price

I was so ecstatic upon receipt of this email/offer that I immediately started bashing my head against the heater in excited anticipation. The bruises will look amazing with a tassled jacket.

An interview and tour of the 'headquarters' would be right up my dark, dirty and stinky alley.

From Sarah Jane Inflictor of Pain

Great name, don't you think? This gang is going to be great.

Moshzilla

It was no co-incidence that the day I finally realised the true potential of the internet coincided directly with me stumbling across the moshzilla phenomenon. Although there was a secret shame in finding someone else's complete and utter humiliation funny, it was, never the less, pretty fuckin funny. It transcended funny. It had to power to render adversarial work colleagues temporary allies, with your sworn enemy ambling meekly up to your screen to see what all the fuss was about. I've found that these internet moments are rare, and should be treasured for their puerile purity. After all, life is fleeting; infamy is ageless.

The repercussions on my life after this event were all too predictable. For a while, no-one could get much sense out of me, and any photos that happened to stray into my neck of the woods were immediately seized and then painstakingly grilled for potential photoshopping opportunities.

My boss at the Art Gallery Craig, knowing better, should never have asked me to backup his recent holiday snaps from Thailand. That's like asking a glue sniffing addict to to be captain of the scrapbook team. My eyes saw red. Not being able to stop my primal urges, I grabbed the following image and went to work.



I considered not sending the result in a company wide email for about 5 seconds. Then I got distracted by a butterfly that landed on the mouse, causing the click to engage and in turn sending the email. "Oh well," I thought "At least I can always blame the butterfly."

157 people in four departments received the following email:

To: All Staff
From: David Price (Art Gallery Society of NSW)
Subject: Up, up, and a Craig.

Amazingly, the whole affair was deemed a hilarious caper, and I was crowned First Class Photoshop Artisan for that week. It may have helped that my boss had a bit of a thing for The Man of Steel, but this could only be attributed to blind, dumb luck considering that I found it out after I could have been fired.

I wish I could say that my bosses also had a pet interest in experimental cryogenics. That could have saved me so much explaining two weeks later when I actually did get the boot. Live and learn I guess.

Procrastinating

I really should be putting my new and improved CV together, as the finances are dwindling faster than.. ummm.. my stockpile of similes. Its job findin' time, and although I realise that this is the inevitable consequence of blowing my vast squillions on the open road, I can't quite find it within myself to start looking. Not. quite. yet.

In the meantime, I suggest we do something pointless. No, we've already invaded Iraq, lets do something else instead.

My suggestion, read some of Craig Dack's penpal correspondences. If these don't tickle your funny bone, your best bet is to take up wearing brown suits and start discussing actuarial accounting at your next dinner party.

Totally Craig Dack's Penpal Correspondence with Sandra Adams

Totally Craig Dack's Penpal Correspondence with Wole Benson

Totally Craig Dack Wins the Lotto


Ok, so like, his name's not really Craig Dack. And he's not really from Bathurst. So that gives you every right to be offended, okay?



Thanks to Eleanor for the reminder, and to Bernie for the link.

It's all in a name

As you well know I am fond of pondering complex issues whenever I have a free moment, which led me to asking Will the following question: If people from Melbourne are called Melbournians, what are people from Wagga Wagga called?

"Either John or Beryl" came his reply.




Preemptive apologies to any Johns or Beryls.

You're only in Young once

Young. Famous for their cherries. We did only go once, but that may of had something to do with standing up on a barstool and repeating in strong slurring tones the amended proverb shown above. That and being chased out of town immediately after by pitchfork wielding natives. Either or, really.

Below is an excerpt from an email I received from my wonderfully observant and hilarious friend May - transcribed here for the shared enjoyment of all.

--

Last night was called Granny Flat, and a friend of mine has been putting it on at the Longueville Hotel for a while now. This being the last one, I thought I should probably head down there for the first time. Not bad really, cool crowd, lots of our friends there, most of whom I haven't seen in AGES, pretty good music. And I was lucky enough to witness this on the bus on the way there:

*bus shuts doors, goes to pull out*

Drunken Youth: Buddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!

Peeved Bus Driver: Are you getting on or not?

Drunken Youth: Yep... Yeah... *removes mobile from ear* Um. What station are you going to?

PBD: Chatswood. [leaves out the "like it says on the front"]

DY: Ok, that's cool. I'll go to Chatswood.

*looks down at wallet, causing him to sway gently*

DY: Do you accept EFTPOS?

PBD: .........!!

DY: That's cool, man. I'll just get the next one.


Brightened my night right there.

--

And, in turn, my dreary rain soaked misadventure to the corner store net cafe.

More stories from May to follow. Comments concerning her being funnier than me discouraged.

WARNING: nerd humour follows

Oh LOLcats... slowly killing any semblance of cool i still had left....



Genevieve
Brilliant caption! Good god, you know you’re a total nerd when you find this caption absolutely hilar. ^^

BonzoGal
Guilty!

Doug
Ditto!

mouse
Nerd Party, table for three?

kelly
for four, please!

Teho
weyr guna need a bigar tabl


Dear God, it's Margaret. Please give me some kind of sign that I'm not the only person in the world that finds this funny; besides the above, scarily enthusiastic nerds of course.




thanks to http://icanhascheezburger.com/

So very offensive.

The language used isn't lost on me either. Disgraceful.



Coming to an inbox near you.

Trumpets... and.. stuff

Some music for your ears:



7 of the 8 are brothers, sons of trumpeter Phil Cohran who played with Sun Ra Arkestra amongst many others (totally googled, 5 minutes ago I had no idea who this guy was).

Thanks to mikey to the tip.

Waste not want not?

Check out the latest innovation in cuddly soft toys:





http://www.peeandpoo.com/eng/flasheng.asp


Nope, you're eyes aren't broken. These cute little suckers are in fact plush toy representations of those two unmentionables that come out ya south bits. Being sold to kiddies everywhere. Shit you not.


One thing I can't help but wonder is whether it's actually a good idea to be reinforcing to kids the belief that playing with their waste is cool. Surely that's just asking for all kinds of house related poo haphazardry. SURELY.


I'll stick with teletubbies, cheers. At least then my kids will grow up as well-rounded crackheads and my walls will be spotless.

What REALLY happened after the death star blew up