An Open Letter To Other Men

Do you wonder about ‘that’ girl?
The type your mother warned you about.
The really bad girls, the sort that gets grounded for embarrassing rugby teams with their foul language and vulgar habits.

Intriguing, aren’t they, but could we really handle it?
Just imagine a woman that’s more up for it, more grubby, infantile and disgusting that we are!
A girl who wouldn’t just call your bluff, she’d come round and kidnap it, tattoo a rude picture on it’s arse, spray it with shaving cream and post a picture of it on the internet.

The whole things a minefield.
Get it wrong and she’ll blow your head off; get it right and she’ll blow you in front of your mates.
All I would say is, if you’re going to try the rudeboy approach out there, you better be prepared to accept the consequences.

As Groucho Marx once said
“I could never get involved with the sort of woman that would get involved with a man like me”

Shh! Don’t tell ‘them’

Have you noticed how you need the internet for damn near everything these days? Not just for registering programs or downloading updates but also for registering product guarantees or signing up for just about everything.
No longer do new products come with manuals, now we must get on the net just to find out how something works…or should work.

More and more it’s a case of ‘Us and Them’.
Those with internet…and those without.

I acquaint this to survival of the fittest, we ‘fit’ people will continue to thrive and prosper according to our internet connection and the poor, sad ‘unfit’ people without internet will surely suffer and die under a pile of unallocated guarantees and dodgy products they were unable to claim for.
Surely early modern man could see that the Neanderthals were doomed, but did he help them to survive? Hell No!
Do we really want our standard of living…and that of our children in the future compromised by having us help these poor unfortunates?!

I put it to you that we owe it to ourselves, our children and our children’s children to simply let nature take its course.
Quietly and without fanfare we should just go about our business and pretend to listen and care when the ID (internet deprived) complain about needing the ‘bloody internet’ for everything these days, nod politely in sure and certain knowledge that we are witnessing the extinction of a lesser sub species of modern man/woman.
Of course we are going to lose friends and family in this ‘great extinction’.
Grand dad and grandma, aged aunts and uncles and maybe a few recalcitrant offspring, but no one important..
Thankfully, most of my family have joined me among the rest of ‘us’, and most of my favourite people have internet already.. But I’m sure going to miss my ex-wife… ..what am I saying?!....

We were never there!

Let me set the scene…It’s late at night in S.A.’s largest city, Brent and I have already had a few drinks. (alright, a lot of drinks) But we’re still looking very smart in our suits, looking more like a couple of off duty cops than revellers, we slide up to the nightclub doorman who immediately greets us like old friends. We had expected some trouble getting into one of Adelaide’s top clubs but he just takes our money, forces food into our hands and lets us in with a very strange comment… “Have a good night… BOYS”. That might not sound like a strange comment at first but the way he said “boys” had me wondering what he meant by that…we found out soon enough.
The overcrowded club was stuffed with beautiful people drinking and chatting, we paid out our small fortune for a couple of drinks and immediately started looking cool. No one gave us a second look as we wondered about, it was too crowded to find an empty chair or table so a spare couple of square feet somewhere at the back was as good as it got.
Within a short time the music started and a very beautiful woman took the stage and her clothes off. For some reason still quite unknown to me, our attention was seized by the girl taking her gear off and it was some time before I looked about me. I looked over at the bar, far distant from where we were, it was about 20 deep with blokes buying drinks…slowly something dawned on me.
I looked about me to suddenly realise that we two blokes were standing amid all the women… watching a female stripper. (you're with me now, aren’t you?)
In the darkness of the club all I could see near me was shadows, shadows holding hands, shadows touching each other, shadows nuzzling partners. So… our chances of picking up girls suddenly started to seem remote! Undaunted, Brent was happy to continue trying…
In due course the 4 or 5 female strippers were done and there followed a similar number of male strippers, this was our cue to move to the bar with all the women as all the men gravitated toward the stage… and so it went all evening.
In the end, so long as we looked away often...and suppressed certain images forever, neither the gay males nor the gay females cared that we were there and we continued drinking until we didn't care either…
On the way out the huge sign out the front said it clearly enough, but somehow we missed it. Gay night, gay night gay night!
..and the point of all this? I don’t know, still trying to work that out…

Copyright Infringement Day

This is a 'float' (which I'm sure it wouldn't..love to try though) Trying hard to look like what it is not!



Don't tell me we don't know how to look after children out here...All behind bars, like they should be!! (repeat serial offenders, 'Excessive Giggling')



Copyright infringement #3612436543B



The big man himself. (skinny man in a fat suit wearing fake beard and polyester suit in an Australian summer)



Here in Australia we have this little custom, I don’t know where it came from but it involves fake snow, fake reindeer and a fake fat bloke in a red suit and fake beard all lumbering down the main street accompanied by various ‘floats’ in 40 degree heat. (105deg F)
For those of you who don’t know, a float is a contraption built onto a truck or trailer trying to look like something completely different, from dinosaurs to fairy castles… I cant look at one of these things without wondering how it would go in a demolition derby …and I’m pretty sure that would attract more enthusiastic onlookers..
This year was no different, bored parents looking on as their kids and grandkids scuttle about grabbing lollies thrown by strangers dressed as clowns. I didn't meet a single adult who was happy to be there…but thousands of kids who were wrapped in every tinsel covered lie.
The aim of the day seems to be to fill every pocket with lollies then fill your belly with Fairy Foss, chips, ice cream and drinks then try to make it home without spraying the inside of the car with partially digested junk food... and while we’re on about the aim of the day there seems to be no end of copyright infringements, one could almost think there seems to be a deliberate attempt to bring publicity by law suit.
But here’s the thing…all year we teach our kids about stranger danger and insist they are careful in everything they do and say…then this one day we encourage them to take candy from strangers and push them forward to cuddle ‘Santa’.
I’m thinking it’s time to cancel Christmas and replace it with something more relevant… like ‘national pelt a stranger with lollies day’.