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July 24, 2006 | by  | in Opinion | [ssba]

My eyes are bleeding

NO JOKES. IT’S been a shitty week. No, worse than that – a goddamn awful week, where I wanted to do nothing more than yell at a number of world leaders and was often tempted to scream at my morning newspaper (opting instead for a casual “don’t shoot the messenger” shrug). In between North Korea and their missiles, Iran buying for time with diplomacy at the same time as developing their nuclear capabililties, and the old Middle East chestnut being made a little bit more deadly than it already is with Israel/Palestine/Hizbollah/Lebanon all exchanging blows. Israel being the United States backed King over-reactor of the world and a pretty despicable state all up.

Boy, I got no jokes. I’m just mad. And sick of Israel, and this whole multigenerational episode of violence that won’t get resolved ever. Because the United States administration won’t go against the wishes of the Jewish vote and act against the Israeli government. And to add to an already miserable week their was a goddamn tsunami in Indonesia. That killed only four hundred or so this time. And Bush vetoed some stem-cell bill. Proving once again that he is in fact a Christian, rightwing dick.

When the news is so fucked up that even I feel bad about making jokes, that’s a bad news week. There’s been very little room for human-interest stories in the Dom this week. When this all cools off the morning paper is going to be dripping with dogs dressed like humans. Just you wait.


THIS, this was funny. Tony Blair and George Bush picked up by a microphone they weren’t aware of. Bush greeted Blair with that classic phrase he probably borrowed of a disenfranchised black voter: “yo Blair”. They talked about “this shit” that Hizbollah was up to. Blair gave Bush a jersey and swore that he’d bought it himself. Do you think Bush refers to Cheney as “dawg”? Condeleeza as “biatch”? Do you think Blair talks about “slamming his women” and Bush “macking on hoes”? I thought he was a president, not some Eminem loving buffoon. (Well, actually I still thought he was a buffoon.) And more importantly, what fully-grown man buys another fully-grown man a jersey?


WINSTON nutted out at some journalists at a press conference in front of high-ranking Republican senator John McCain while McCain was waxing lyrical about small things like free trade agreements. Does no one realise that Winston Peters is an unstable chain-smoking alcoholic? That he’s probably constantly so far gone the line has blurred between The Green Parrott and the inside of the office and he probably has no idea who he is any more?

He used to be this endearingly sharptongued drunk that walked around Parliament getting into fistfights. Now it’s just a bit sad. At least he managed to not stub a cigarette out on Condaleeza Rice’s arm and call her a “whore”.


A Hawkes Bay millionaire was hospitalised by a gang of boy-racers after they got in a fight following a disagreement in Mount Maunganui. And leaving aside any questions as to why this was worthy of a spot on the third page of the news section, I was curious. Boy racers can fight? And let alone the petrol faded dull as shit speed monkeys that run laps up in that narrow minded jock ridden part of this country. I just thought the cars were compensating for some homosexual guilt or small penis or whatever it is that people buy ridiculous things to compensate for. And aside from this, what do boy racers and a millionaire get in a fight over? Stock options?


“Police boss suspended over bad behaviour”

POLICE superintendent Steve Fitzgerald was placed on ‘special’ leave for acting inappropriately to a woman.

Sexist pig policemen just aren’t news anymore. Sorry.

Aside from the whole ‘special’ leave thing (what’s so special about not being able to turn up to work for a bit before they fire you?), dirty old Fitzgerald only acted inappropriately, which pretty much makes him look like a fucking model policeman in comparison to some of the chumps that have been dragged before the media circus this year. The only way to make this worthy of making me raise an eyebrow is if he’d taken to the woman with a crowbar, tied her up, killed her mother in front of her and then performed some ritual that was culturally insensitive to most major religions while wearing a Paul Holmes mask.

What’s next “Job wanted: Police chief – ridiculously offensive sexual quirks a must”?

Somewhere at the Police headquarters there is a public relations consultant with nothing left to give and very little hair. But still, this is not front-page news, not anymore.


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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