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September 4, 2006 | by  | in Opinion | [ssba]

My Eyes are Bleeding


I was disgusted with Thursday’s front page “Ashleygate” update. Why, why, why do we need to know every graphic and inhumane last detail of how he died? Can’t something be left between that sick, inhumane fuck that killed him and God? Do we need to know that the murderer turned around and told someone trying to help Liam Ashley: there’s no point, I’ve already broken his neck?” Do we need that? Did you want to know? I have no interest. I don’t do snuff journalism. I mean I watched 9MM, but I didn’t feel good about it afterwards.

Since when did “if it bleeds, it leads” transfer into “if you find out it had it’s neck broken and was covered in blood right before it died, chuck that on the front-page too”? I felt dirty just looking at that Dominion Post. So I just burned the front section and flicked over to Life. The A section is just so far away from your mind when your breathing in the joy that is Neil Rosenthal’s Intimacy’ column in D.

And sorry for the endless question marks. It’s just that nothing says outrage like a rhetorical question. Am I right?


First we forgot about the little six-year old beauty queen Jon-Benet. Then out of the blue, they arrested someone for her murder. Police swore they had their man. The father who everyone thought killed the girl came on TV and made heaps of statements about closing books and all that nonsense. But then out of the blue, they let him go. The DNA didn’t match. But Mr. Karr swears that he killed her. But that it was an accident.

I don’t know about you, but I’m confused. But really, poor Jon-Benet. She died before she could fulfill her prophecy of teenage pregnancy and drug addiction.


Why the hell would anyone volunteer to get Tasered? The front page of Wednesday’s Dom had a cop being tasered by another cop. Which is a pretty shrewd way of kinda saying, well hey, they can’t be all bad because look we’re shooting one of our own. But the terror and pain on his face is actually quite real. That’s not acting, that’s a shot of a man getting caned with 50,000 volts of justice. And to think he volunteered! That’s got to be tough sell. Taking one in the arse for the Police public relations team, hell – it’s not for me, but maybe I’m just not a team player. But subjecting myself to temporary paralysis? Not for me. But still, tasers huh? It’s the new pepper spray and the creative way to inhumanely bring down potential suspects. Take that mean spirited and possibly Polynesian stealing scum! State sanctioned torture. So hot right now.


All I have to say about this, is that maybe someone who has twenty-four wives and still looks like Dennis Hopper’s inbred offspring probably deserves to be called the prophet. And I don’t watch Big Love because I sold my television for amphetamines and happy meals, but why all of a sudden is bigamy everywhere? The marketing is delicious. TV2 will be thrilled. I need a snappier name, because you respect a guy called ‘The Prophet’. Nothing says respect like multiple wives, even if you did steal half of them off your father (Dennis Hopper), and his sister (your mother). Bigamy, so hot right now.


Now it always confused me how reputable writer Steve Braunias working for a reputable old publication like The Listener would go and write for a crappy magazineextra to a pretty crappy newspaper. But then it all suddenly snapped back into focus and made crushingly awesome sense to me. Steve Braunias is going out with the editor, and they’re having a baby together. Which is nice. Good to know that the man had sullied his good name for the love of a good woman and a chance to extend his family line. Other than for the chance to write a column at the back of Sunday the magazine that for some gawd forsaken reason thinks that Dominic Bowden and some insufferable nobody from C4 are cover models.

And who told me this? Bridget Saunders in her weekly dose of Dominion Post truth. You will not be spared come the revolution Saunders. Your death will still be drawn out. But now I may feel bad about it afterwards.


This one goes to Tuesday’s front-page tease to a story on American teens protesting naked. It was cool, y’know, it’s nice to wake up to nudity in the paper. But the picture on the front page was everything. There was no picture with the article inside! Bagh! Pointless stories are only made worthwhile with nudity. It’s a hard and fast rule that they teach most likely at every journalism school of worth. What a tease…


About the Author ()

ABANDONED AT birth, Casablo was raised on the street, honing a never say die attitude and a taste for the blood of babies and puppies. One day Casablo looked up at the newspaper that had so loyally kept him warm at night and was horrified at what stared back at him, making it his life goal to fight the system in the most horribly ineffectual of ways. When not writing – or pretending to be inebriated – Casablo runs a horribly unsuccessful private detective agency with his crime-fighting partner, Fifi Mimosa.

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