Word-whore. I write 'em. I talk 'em. Information, politics, media, and the cybers. I drink. I use bad words. All publication is a political act. All communication is propaganda. All art is pornography. All business is personal. All hail Eris! Vive les poissons rouges sauvages!
Tonight is the end of official winter in Australia, although spring has already arrived in the Blue Mountains. So to mark the end (almost) of the Late Winter Series of this podcast, the recording of this episode was streamed live.
Continue reading “The 9pm End of Winter LIVE”
Technically this episode isn’t part of the Late Winter Series, because there’s no special guest and it wasn’t scheduled, but here it is. It’s the Full Moon, and I’m in a mood.
Continue reading “The 9pm Bonus Ouroboroworm of Despair, from Scams to Afghanistan”
I am now an expert on international politics and will pass judgement on and provide analysis of the Nobel Peace Prize going to Barack Obama, just like every other fuckhead.
It’s Swedish. And it’s glittery. Just like Abba. A “Black Abba”, if you wish. Afghanistan is Obama’s Waterloo. Discuss.
[This post is based on a couple of tweets from last night. 1, 2. Someone thought it was amusing. I wanted to link the word “Waterloo” to some explanatory material, but was stuck. Which link?]
The cat vomited this morning. Again. Artemis has this habit of gorging her food and then, five minutes later, throwing up wherever she’s standing.
Today it was a projectile effort from the heights of the TV stand, a reddish-brown spatter right across the living room floor.
Remember that last time you threw up? How the acrid stomach acids burnt your throat and mouth? How it felt like it was surging up into the back of your nose? It’s just like that. Freshly warm and mixed with the reek of cheap fish.
You can’t help but get it on your hands as you wipe it up.
I’ll bet just the thought of that smell is causing tightness in your sinuses, clenching in your throat.
Wiping up cat vomit first thing in the morning is rather unpleasant, no?
If wiping up cat vomit is the worst you have to think about today, then you’re one of the luckiest bastards on this planet. It’s not a particularly demanding sacrifice to make in return for some furry companionship.
Today is, of course, Anzac Day, our national memorial for those who’ve made the ultimate sacrifice for our country, and that other country.
Continue reading “Anzac Day 2009: Sacrifice”Stilgherrian’s links for 12 January 2009 through 18 January 2009, gahered with care and moistened with love:
Stilgherrian’s links for 21 July 2008 through 25 July 2008, gathered by a small, well-trained pig, washed by hand and exposed to cool, dry air: