The Blog of Dabido (the Baka one). Everything in this blog is copyrighted. Copyright 2004, 2005, 2006 by D. Stevenson.

31 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE FOURTEEN]

The much publicised spat between Batman and Superman has some origins that people don't know about. This is actually where it started.

'Bruce,' screamed Clarke. 'You`re not impressing anyone dressing up as a bat and running around in spandex.'

'Come off it Clarke,' replied Bruce. 'You know it turns you on. Check out these moves, I call them the Batusi.'

'Ptttth, the Batusi will never take off.'

'No, no, check it out. It's very sexy, baby. Real seeeexxxyyy.'

'You're an idiot Bruce.' 'Don't call me an idiot! I'm the greatest business mind in the world.' 'You're an idiot with no moral fibre what-so-ever!' 'No moral fibre? You can talk you two bit hand bag snatching herion addict!'

Clarke had enough. He stormed out of the room. Yet, somehow, deep down inside he knew Bruce had been right. It's very difficult to take the high ground when you know you're not that perfect yourself. At this point, Clarke decided to be as perfect as he could be. He returned to the farm to talk to Jor-L.

'Daggnimmity, doodity,' said Jor-L. 'We tried so hard to bring you up right. I was worried for a while. You seemed to have completely lost it, especially with the drugs and all. Yet somehow, you've worked it all out yourself Clarke. I'm daggnimmity proud of you.'

'Thanks, Dad,' replied Clarke. 'From now on, I'll use my powers for good to help people and to fend off evil.'

'Daggdoodity nammit, there's a great evil in the world at the moment. Giant turtles are terrorising Fukuoka, T-Rexes are terrorising Sapporo, and a werecow is running amoke in India!'

'Werecow?' 'I'm over here,' said Bernadette (whose stunt career hadn't taken off at this stage). 'What?' asked Clarke. 'I thought you wanted to know where the cow was,' replied Bernadette. 'No, I was asking about the werecow!' 'I'm here!' 'No, werecow.' 'Here! I'm HERE already!' 'NO! NO! NO! WERECOW! LIKE A WEREWOLF!' 'Where wolf?' 'Yes, like a were wolf!' 'Where?' 'That's right.' 'What's right? Where wolf?' 'Where?' 'I don't know, I thought you knew!' 'I knew what?' 'Where wolf!' 'Where?' 'That's what I asked.' 'What?' 'Where?' 'What?!!' 'What, what? I want to know where.' 'Where what?' 'Where what what?'

'Daggnimmity,' interupted Jor-L. 'You're both drivin' me nuts! Stop it! Listen Clarke, you have to go and build a fotress of solitude. Some place where you can think.' 'Like the toilet.' 'No, not like the toilet! A fortress of solitude. A nice quite place where you can just sit there and think.' 'Like the toilet!' 'NO! Daggnimmmity! Go to the north pole, find a nice quite place, build a huge friggin' fortress from ice that will give you somewhere daggnimity TO THINK!' 'Can I think in the toilet at the fortress?' 'Yes, daggnimiity! Of course you can think in the toilet! Just, the whole purpose of the place is so you don't have to sit in a friggin' toilet to think. You have the entire fortress to do it in.' 'But it does have a toilet, right?' 'Of course it daggnammity has a friggin' toilet. What were you planning on doing? Poopin' on the walruses or something!' 'No, no,' said Clarke. 'Just needed to know it was going to have plumbing and everything ... and somewhere to think!' 'Daggnammit, just pick up the spaceship and fly to the North Pole.' 'Um, my powers are returning, but they haven't completely returned yet. Plus, I'm afraid of what might happen when I go through detox.' 'Okay, pick up the daggnimmity spaceship and carry us to the North Pole. Just don't stop in Canada and drink all their beer. Those Cannucks get mighty upset if people drink all their beer.'

And so it was that Clarke picked up the spaceship and headed for the North pole. Along the way he accidently dropped the spaceship on a Canadian mounty, but no one cared as it was only Duddley Do-right.

A polar bear did try to take a bite out of Clarke, but that Bear landed with a huge smack in the middle of Africa. It left him totally confused and rather hot in that fur coat!

For two weeks Clarke built his fortress of solitude with indoor plumbing and went through detox of the heroin. The hard work helped him to sweat out the drug. His super powers returned at an exponential rate, and he was soon back to full working capacity as the red underwear wearing superhero we've all come to love.

30 July, 2006

Sometimes, you just can't blog about stuff.

I just had a friend from Sydney phone me … and I’d love to blog about what we spoke about … but, it’s one of those things that you can’t because the conversation contained highly personal stuff … and well, you can’t betray peoples confidences and stuff. I’m sure you understand.

But, without going into any detail concerning a lot of things, I will say something, I totally melted this persons mind.

It’s one of those things … you’re talking, and believe me, we’ve known each other for ABSOLUTELY a HUGE amount of time. Then, she suddenly realised something about me … for want of some better words I’ll use these ones. She suddenly realised I was a lot more pure than she thought I was.

THEN, somewhere in the shock [actually, you will have to imagine this conversation with LOTS of shocked silence from the other end of the phone], she started talking about how we’ve previously gotten drunk together … till I pointed out I’d never got drunk before with her … and there was more shocked silence as she realised that we hadn’t. She’d never seen me drunk. OMGoodness. I was even MORE pure than she thought. lol SHE was SHOCKED INTO MORE SILENCE!!!!! OMGoodness!!!!!!

I find it funny, as she’s known me now for ten or more years … she’s one of my closest friends in Sydney, and YET she had this blind spot to me … and I guess, I had this blind spot to her and my other friends knowing about this side of me … which sort of amazed me, as some of my friends always used to tell me I was perfect (in a purity sort of a way). lol I guess it’s not easy to find someone like that, as being pure in that sense of the word is sort of … considered nerdy and frowned upon! lol

One of my best friends ALWAYS used to rave on about my ‘purity’ after I talked him out of cheating on his fiance.

[I know, it sounds like I’m blowing my own trumpet, but I am just using the word ‘pure’ as I can’t think of another word for it … you’d laugh yourself silly I think if you knew the conversation … or go into complete shock over it like my friend did!]

Anyway, my friend said she wished I was in Sydney so she could hit me over the head! ;-) Guess her vote is for me to stop being so pure! lol

Anyway, it’s the sort of thing I can’t blog about with any details. lol

29 July, 2006

Dabidity Fair

With the recent announcement that Daniel Radcliffe (AKA Harry Potter) is going to appear naked on stage in London, I couldn't allow myself to be upstaged.

. . . . * * * *

I know. I know. A lot of you are asking the question, what are you going to do about this, with your big man boobs, your tummy that makes you look like you're pregnant beyond belief ... well, there is only ONE thing I can do ...

. . . . * * * * *
Yes, it is the latest cover for Dabidity Fair. :-)

27 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE THIRTEEN]

Harold was having a wonderful time. Sure, New York was being terrorised by a huge hairy ape who liked to eat tanks, trains, planes, people, objects … well, almost everything it could get it’s hands on, but Harold could still see the upside.

As a Gremlin, chaos was just a normal part of life. New York was getting colder as it headed towards a bitterly cold winter. However, now he’d found himself a nice warm place to sleep. Harold liked nothing better than to curl up, all toasty like and have sweet dreams.

‘HAROLD!’ screamed Clarke. Harold awoke with a start. ‘Harold,’ continued Clarke. ‘Get out of the monkey poo!’ ‘But, it’s so nice and warm!’ ‘You’re sleeping in our fertaliser! We have to sell it, and I don’t want any gremlin contamination getting into it!’ Harold climbed out of the large monkey pat he’d been sleeping in and slunk off to the showers in a nearby Wayne Industries warehouse. Clarke was slowly regaining his super powers as the kryptonite worked it’s way out of his system. It had only taken a matter of hours to fly from Gotham to New York. Something still faster by plane, but Clarke was getting better … slowly.

Clarkes mobile phone rang. ‘Hello? Oh Bruce, good to hear from you … Yeah, I’ve got the stuff you wanted … Yeah, I’ll be back in a few hours … hmm, two FBI agents you say. One of thme isn’t Fox Dabido is it? That pig was the guy who put the kryptonite in my heroin. Yeah, I’ll take him and his friend out … X-files? No, never heard of the show. Why do you ask? … really? Don’t remember an episode full of monkey poo at all. Okay, see you too Uncle Bruce … um, can you stop blowin me kisses over the phone … no, I don’t like it … I think I’d know if I like dit or not. Look, I’ve got to go, Harold is playing in the product again!’ With that Clarke hung up the phone and went to haul Harold out of the monkey poo again.


‘Oh, Come on turtle,’ said Grasshopper. ‘Just go in the back of the truck. It’s so much easier thna having to hire people to shovel it in.’

Lunther Corp had managed to corner the Tokyo monster poo market, but Wayno Industries had conquered the New York, and to a lesser extent the Gothopolis Hulk poo market. Together, they were making many world deserts capable of growing food for the world. Lunther Corp were busy working on the Sahara crop fields, while Wayno Industries concentrated more on the American deserts and the Gobi desert in China.

‘Come on turtle. I have other monsters to negotiate with.’ The giant turtle screamed, which would have made perfect sense if Grasshopper was capable fo speaking Monster, but alas, he only knew English, Mandarin, Japanese, Korean and twelve different Chinese dialects [mainly from the Southern regions]. For someone who was effectively a lazy sod, his total fascination with all things television related had led him to learn an awful lot of different languages. He had smatterings of French, Italian, and Hindi, and several other languges. Alas, not one of them was monster.

The turtle screamed out again, ‘Clear the area you stupid human. I have to go urgently. I’ll go in your friggin’ truck, but just move else you’ll be engulfed in a tidal wave of …’ It was too late. Grasshopper’s kean martial art moves were not enough to save him from a rapid surf down the Narita Highway in a wave of green. No one knew what that turtle kept eating, but his by products were green and things grew in it very easily. In fact, they often grew twice as large as they should have. No one really cared, as it was all being fed to the poorer third world countries.


The two vampires were hanging upside down in a tree in Sapporo. ‘So,’ said the first one. ‘You seen that new movie, the Da Vampire Code?’ ‘No, what’s it about?’

The conversation might have continued, except a large T-Rex type creature stood on the tree. Being vampires, they were not killed in the slightest. However, they had broken ever bone in their bodies and were squashed rather falt.

As the T-Rex foot moved off them and rumbled into the distance, they both lay there, flat as pancakes. ‘Kill me now!’ ‘With what? I don’t have a stake.’ ‘Even if we did, how wold we lift it?’ ‘A dog is nibbling on my flattened foot. Shoo, shoo doggy. Shoo, or I’ll bite you on the neck.’ ‘You can’t bite a dog, you might turn into a werewolf.’ ‘Don’t be stupid, you only turn into a werewolf if you’re bitten by a wolf on a full moon.’ ‘I thought that was werecows!’ ‘Werecows? Are you nuts? There aren’t any werecows in Sapporo.’ ‘Oh yeah, I forgot, they’re all down in Kobe.’ ‘That’s right. ANd I heard they have flying ones in a place called Smallethorpe in America.’ ‘Flying cows! Pttthhh, you’d believe anything you see on Tee Vee.’ ‘Why are flying cows so hard to believe?’ ‘Oh, come on. Vampires, werewolves, werecows, T-Rex monsters, giant apes in New York, gremlins and yetis on motorcycles, those things exist, but flyin cows! You’re just so gulliable!’ ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. I have such a vivid imagination!’

And so it was, that four hours later Brad the Unpaler [vampire extraordinaire], was able to reassemble himself inside a dogs stomach, while his friend, Ivan the ‘Not So Nice’, had to wait for a rampant squirrel to nibble on him before any reassembling from flat to vampire was again possible.

26 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE TWELVE]

‘So Elm Scully,’ said Fox Dabido. ‘Where do you think we stand?’

‘Well, I’m standing on the sidewalk. You’re standing knee deep in monkey poo!’ ‘What? Oh … er… darn it, and these are new shoes too!’

It was true, somehow Dabido had not realised he’d stepped in some poo. Not an easy feat, as it was as large as a house, though of course it was spread out across the street a little.

The FBI agents had been called to investigate weird paranormal phenomena occuring in and around Gothopolis.

‘Okay,’ said Dabido. ‘Other than the monkey poo, where do we stand?’ ‘Well,’ said Elm. ‘We have several eye witnesses that a large ape is terrorising downtown New York.’ ‘What’s that got to do with Gothopolis?’ ‘Well, there are rumous of mob connections here in Gothopolis. It’s been said that a consortium from here has been buying up all the New York ape droppings and delivering them to this warehouse.’ ‘Ptttttth, little chance of that. Where’s the evidence that such a stupid story could be even remotely true?’ ‘It’s crap.’ ‘That’s what I thought.’ No, I mean yYou were just standing in it!!!’ ‘Oh, that! Okay, so there is SOME evidence.’ ‘It’s monkey crap.’ ‘Stop confusing me! Do you believe the story or not?’ ‘ I mean the evidence is monkey crap.’ ‘Oh, okay. I misunderstood.’

As they were speaking, a blue flash raced past, and Dabido’s new Gucci handbag disappeared! ‘Not again!’ screeched Dabdio. ‘That’s the second handbag this week!’ ‘As a man, don’t you think you shoudl give up on the handbag thing?’ asked Elm. ‘Um … I could. But, you know I have a style all my own!’ He gracefully tossed his head to the left and then to the right, exactly the way Farrah Fawcet would have done it in Charlies Angels, provided she was a short fat man with little hair. ‘I bet anything it’s that Clarke kid from that farm!’ ‘What kid? What farm?’ ‘The kid form Krypton!’ ‘Huh?’ ‘The one you used Kryptonite to spike his heroin.’ ‘Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.’ ‘He’s from another planet! How many people have you met from another planet?’ ‘Other than the four this week? Does my cousin Merl count?’

As they were speaking a guy in red and blue spandex with a black web texture landed flat in front of them in the monkey poo. *SPLAT* He quickly got up [well, after a brief swim to the edge] and ran away. ‘Did you see that Dabido?’ ‘Um … are we talking about that spiderguy who just ran away?’ ‘Yes! That’s what I’m talking about.’ Dabido breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Oh goooooood, I’m not having those spider halucinations again. They’re almost as bad as the snake ones!’ ‘Anyway, shouldn’t we investigate?’ ‘Why? We’re paranormal investigators. We don’t go around investigating weird guys who dress in skin tight costumes and bungy jump into monkey poo.’ ‘Yes, we do. What about that guy we investigated last week?’ ‘Oh, that was completely different. That was a guy who dressed as a latex scorpion and dived into cow manure. That’s nothing like this.’

As they were speaking a large truck labeled, ‘Wayne Industries - Simian Fertaliser Division’ rolled past. ‘Dabido, our first major clue!’ Dabido raced over to the monkey poo and started looking through it. ‘Where? Where? Did the spiderguy lose his rolex in the fall?’ ‘Ewwwww! No, I mean the truck that just drive past!’ ‘Oh! Um … you don’t mind if we go back to the hotel. I think I need to have a shower.’

With that, Fox and Elm returned to the Hotel Unko so that Dabido could have a nice shower and freshen up.

25 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE ELEVEN]

Grasshopper was sitting at the front of the plane in first class as it came in to land for a stop over at Narita airport. The plane made a nice three point landing without any bounce. As it was slowing down, trying not to hit the obstacle at the end of the runway, the brakes failed. All Grasshopper saw was it suddenly get very dark outside. If daylight had the ability to penetrate the mass outside, he would have realised the plane had smacked head first into a large round brown biscuit shaped thing that the T-Rex had left on the runway. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We seem to have … er … plowed into some dino doo. You will need to exit from the back of the plane while the ground crew dig us out and refuel the aircraft.’

When the rear dorway was eventually opened, after the groundcrew brought some old movable stairs to the plane, there was a sudden rush of green smog. Most of the passengers found that the airsick bags, that most hadn’t needed before, now couldn’t be opened fast enough. If they had of thought that airplane food was bad enough before they’d eaten it, they now had to see it again.

‘I better mobile ahead,’ thought Grasshopper. ‘He pulled out his Lunther Corp mobile phone and dialed the head office.’

‘Lex speaking,’ said Lex. Grasshopper hadn’t realised he had phoned his direct boss, Lex Lunther.

‘Hi, this is Grasshopper, I’m the new exectutive from China.’

‘Yes, Grasshopper. What can I do for you?’

‘You’re not going to believe this. The planes going to be late, it’s sort of, stuck in dino doo.’

‘Ah, it’s all hit the fan has it?’

‘The fan, the cokpit, somes in the engines. But don’t worry, it’s all undercontrol. Just means I’m going to be arriving later than expected.’

‘Good, I have an assignment for you then. We’ve just bought a new hotel at Narita. Apparently it’s sustained a little damage when Wayuno Towers took a topple a short while ago. Can you head over there, spend the night and assess the damge for me?’

‘Yeah, sure thing Mister Lunther.’

‘Please, call me Lex Grasshopper.’

With that, Grasshopper sorted out his paperwork with the authorities and took a taxi over to the Lunther Hotel in Narita. The damage was minimal. Mainly, it was the turtle doo in the swimming pool that was a the problem. There were a few smashed windows and such, but the hotel staff had moved any guests from those rooms to better accomodation.


‘Mister Wayuno,’ said the terrified voice at the other end of the phone. ‘We have very bad news for you. Your property has collapsed.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Bruce. ‘Prices will come back up again.’

‘Not the price. The property has collapsed. Giant turtle one has been thrown into the building and building fell over.’

‘Giant turtle one? You’re numbering these things now?’

‘No, the giant turtle. Smashed up Tokyo, you know the one. He landed on the building. Building fall over. T-Rex ran away to Sapporo. Turtle very angry. Can’t find T-Rex, runs amok smashing trains, farting a lot and singing J-Pop tunes. People very scared. Never heard J-Pop in such a screeeechy voice before.’

‘So, you’re saying the building I just bought has been demolished.’

‘Hai. And no insurance against monster attack in Japan. Happens way too often.’

‘So, I’ve lost the entire building? How much did that thing cost me anyway?’

‘Was only fifteen thousand yen. Very cheap. Still, we are thinking of buying another building nearby for you. Little smaller, but only fourteen thousand yen. Still, it is fifteen stories high.’

‘Can you talk them down a little?’

‘I have tried, because of the cost of digging it out.’

‘Digging it out? Landslide? Earthquake? What’s it doing buried?’

‘Oh, more monster problems. Don’t worry, we arranged a fertaliser company to take it away. Made ten thousand yen on the deal.’

‘So, we’re only five thousand yen down? Well done Kato!’

Bruce hung up the phone. Hmmm, he thought to himself. There’s money in monster dung.

‘Clarke,’ ordered Bruce. ‘Get me our man in New York. Who did we send there?’

‘Actually, we sent Harold there after he refused to go to Toyko.’

‘Fantastic. Just the man we need! He’s used to being in up to his armpits.’

24 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE TEN]

'Grasshopper,' said the wise sage. 'When you can snatch this pebble form my hand, then you may leave.' 'Are you nuts?' asked the young man. 'Why would I want to leave? I've got free board, free food, free satelite link to almost every station on television, and you're asking me to give that up by snatching a pebble from your hand?' 'Look, you have sponged off us long enough. Take the damn pebble.' 'No way! I'm not touching that darn pebble, nor am I sticking my hand anywhere near your dirty mit!' 'Are you saying my hands are unclean?' 'They stink. You've been gutting fish again, and you haven't washed afterwards.' 'Hey, someone has to gut the fish. If you ever got off your fat lazy butt, maybe you could feed yourself. The rest of us monks are tired of it. Take the friggin' pebble or we'll kick your ass to the highest heaven!' 'You looking for someone to kick your nuts into your brain old man!' 'Don't call me an old man, Grasshopper! I've got friends you know. One hundred monks live here, an evey single one of them wants to kick your ass outta here!' 'Well bring them on, I'm not afraid!' As Grasshopper finished his sentence, the tranquil Japanese garden where they sat began filling with Shaolin monks. Some came with large sword, others carried halberds, bows or spears. One carried a carrot, which he'd mistakenly grabbed off the kitchen table. It was only upon arriving in the garden that he realised he hadn't grabbed a knife at all. 'Heeeeyyyyyaaaaaahhhhh,' began Grashopper as he began some slow movements with his hands, twisting and contorting them into different shapes. 'Heeeeeoooooooaaarrrghhhhh, ooooOOOOooo aarrrrrggghhheeerrrrrggggg.' 'Huh! The drunk terapin moves will not save you this time,' said the old monk. 'We have been training in the style of the smacked out yak, the best attack against the drunk terapin style.' 'I'll switch then,' said Grasshopper. 'Heeeyyyyooooooo uuuuuurrrrgggggle aaaarrrrrr ooooooooeeeeeaaaahhhh!' Grasshopper began moving in more twisting contorting slow motion moves. His eyes opened wide revealing a sort of madness only seen in the cream of martial arts experts. 'The crack whore eagle style is no match for our smelly goat underpants style.' 'What about this one then? Heeeeehhuiiiiioooooo argggh oooreeeeaaaahhh.' 'Huh! The melted horse nipple style is nothing compared to the jelly rabbit burnt pancake style!' 'What about this then? Hooooo Haaaa earghlghlllurrgh zzzzeeeeeeeeppppp!' 'The ribena vodka monkey style isn't even practiced anymore. It's gone! Who are you trying to kid?' 'Then try this on for size. Hhhhaaarrrr, goooo zeeee pppttthhhh aaarrrggh!' 'I don't even know what that is, but it looks amaturish and totally ineffective!' At this point Grasshopper, tired of bluffing, just kicked the old man in the nuts and ran for the gate. It had been a good ten years, and Grasshopper had never once raised a finger to help around the place. Now, it looks like the whole thing was over. He ran out the gate and down the street. A few arrows hit the cobbled stoned street here and there, but none hit him. He was a little curious though as to why a carrot bounced off his head. He was now free. He hated being free, as it meant no one to wash up after him, no one to wash his robes, no lounging around in front of the television set watching re-runs of Oprah. He now had to fend for himself. He didn't know where he was going, or what he was going to do. He aimlessly walked into the Beijing office of Lunther Corp, not even knowing where he was or what Lunther Corp did. 'Watta ya want?' asked a security guard looking up from his newspaper. The guard was behind a big desk and looked like he was a dairy cow as he chewed on what Grasshopper assumed was gum. 'Um, I'm after a job, as an executive?' 'Okay, head up to floor five, personal.' 'Aren't you going to ask any question? Like who I am, or my experience?' 'What do I looks like? A friggin' human resources graduate? Just go up to level five, ask for a job, and if they want you chucked out, they'll call me.' 'Um, okay.' With that, Grasshopper took the elevator to the fifth floor and went into the personal department. 'Hi,' said a girl behind a desk so large she probably needed to take a bus to get to the other side. 'Oh, Hi,' said Grasshopper. 'I want a job as an executive.' 'You willing to travel to Gothopolis? 'Cause we got an opening there I believe.' 'Yeah, sure.' 'Let's look at your hands then.' 'My hands? You going to read my palm?' asked Grasshopper as he stretched his hand out. 'Nah,' said the girl. 'Just checking to make sure you're an executive.' 'Really? You can tell that from my palm?' 'Yep. I can tell you've never done an honest days work in your life. Never lifted a finger around the house, lazier than a comatosed sloth on valium!' 'That's me alright!' 'Good, you're hired.' The girl behind the huge desk arranged his airfare and a taxi. In five minutes, Grasshopper was in a taxi on his way to Gothopolis, somewhere in the US of A.'

23 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE NINE]

'Hmmmm,' said Kong to himself. 'This is hard on the outside, and sort of chewy in the middle. Not nearly enough filling though. Mainly all air. To think they pay millions for these things. Oh well, plenty more where that came from. Here comes a whole stack of them for me to eat.' The US 1st Armoured division rolled down the road towards him. Kong loved these things, as he just had to run around the corner, climb a little way up the building out of sight, and leap on them as they finally arrive at the cross road. The lack of vision hampered the tanks from seein Kong once he was above their eye line. The helicopters were a bit if a nuisance though, thought Kong. Got nasty paper cut off one of them. Those twirly things they have on their heads. Remind me of those computer geeks I ate a little while ago. Stupid fools, walked up and asked me to pose for thier blog site, wearin stupid hats with plastic twirly things ... what do they call them? Oh yeah, propeller heads! Well, that'll teach them! Oh kewl, first tank has arrived, time to leap on it, knock the top off and have some lunch! WeeeeeeeeH! Meanwhile, back in Toyko, their was a distinct lack of city left. The giant turtle wasn't feeling too good, and let one rip! Green smoke bellowed out from his insides into the surrounding area. The giant T-Rex creature gagged and ran for it. A large squid type creature had joined the fracas, but decided it would be better back in Tokyo bay. Bad enough it was having difficulty breathing out of water as it was, but now that stupid turtle was just turning things foul! The squid couldn't beleive it. Imagine arriving in Tokyo and finding the air unbreathable. Most of the Tokyo residence didn't actually notice much difference from the normal traffic fumes.
'Well,' said Bruce. 'Looks like Wayne foundation is back up and running. We have only one major rival at present, Lunther Corp. Not to worry, it's run by some evil money hungry guy named Luke Lunther. He's been grooming his young son Lex to take over.' 'So, are we making enough money to support my habit?' asked Clarke, who was getting tired of having to snatch handbags. 'Not by a long shot young Clarke,' replied Bruce. 'All the money is being re-diverted back into Wayne Foundation at present. Plus, ther eis a lot of marketing to be performed. First of all, you're our new front for the organisation, so we have to get some PR people onto you to clean you up a little. Second, we have to get fitted for our lycra suits. Can't be superheroes without skin tight lycra, molding itself to my bulging biceps. Filling every nook and cranny. Leaving nothing, and I mean NOTHING, to the imagination. My tight glutes looking like two firm peaches in a skin tight bag.' 'Um, sorry to interupt,' interupted Harold, who was getting a little uncomfortable with Bruces monologue. 'Just, some of the other Gremlins are wondering if we're going to be getting cushy jobs. At present we're still mugging little old ladies, and beating up convenience store clerks and stuff. I mean, so of those clerks know karate and kung fu you know.' 'Ha ha,' said Bruce. 'Harold you old scamp. Of course they'll be cushy jobs for you and your friends. Have to reward the little people who put Wayne Foundation back on the corporate map. Just, we're a little tight for cash at the moment, you know, with the empire building and all. We've just opened another office in Singapore. That place isn't cheap you know. Office space is at premium prices. Difficult to afford anything on such a tight budget at present.' 'Well, can't you give at least one of us, and by one of us, I mean me, a little cushy job somewhere. Just so the rest of the boys know that things are moving.' 'Brilliant idea, Harold,' replied Bruce. 'I can see you're thinking on your feet. Just the man I need for the Tokyo office.' 'But, but,' stammered Harold. 'Tokyo is a flattened wreck at the moment. The monster wars have completely wasted the place.' 'Harold! You're a big boy. Besides, you'll fit right in.' 'It could be worse,' interjected Clarke. 'He could send you to New York. Apparently, there is monkey poo all over that place at the moment.' 'New York would be a walk in the park compared to TOKYO!' screamed Harold. 'Tokyo's completely flattened. WHERE AM I SUPOSED TO LIVE IN TOYKO?' 'Calm down,' said Bruce, a little too calmly for the likes of everyone else in the room. 'Not all of Tokyo is flattened. Out near Narita there are plenty of buildings, and none of them have suffered any damage. I've bought a building there. It's called "Wayuno Towers" now, named after Wayne Foundation. Anyway, Narita is completely in tact, and the property prices have come way down since everyone's moving away fom the monsters.'
The T-Rex like creature picked up a QANTAS seven four seven and through it across the Narita runway. 'Get away from me you giant farty turtle!' it screamed. 'Aw, come on! I only let one rip, and it wa sin the middle of Tokyo.' 'I don't care, it smells foul and it's followed you!' 'Oh, a guy lets one rip in his entire life, just one, and automatically you're branding me the farty turtle! Like youv'e never cut the cheese in your life!' 'It didn't come out green and smelly like yours! Just, get away from me!' 'It's something I ate, honestly. You know, some of these humans just don't digest that well. I promise not to let one go again.' 'I don't even like you! Leave me alone!' 'Come on, I'll buy you a corn pizza.' 'We're not even friends! In Tokyo we were trying to kill each other.' 'Well, I like wrestling with my friends.' 'I told you, we're not friends! I HATE YOU!' 'Oh, hate is such an ugly word!' With that, the T-REx lifted the poor turtle and flung him across Narita, over the airport terminal and into a large building. The building cracked and as the turtle rolled on it's back on the ground, the top fell off, with the new sigange, 'Wayuno Towers' falling on his head! 'Aw gees,' said the turtle. 'That friggin' hurt!' 'Good, now go back and play with your squidy friend from Toyko bay!' 'Squidy friend? He has a name you know!' 'I don't care about his friggin' name! Just go play with him.' The remains of 'Wayne Tower' collapsed and fell on the turtle. While trying to get the cement off himself, the turtle didn't notice which way the T-Rex ran, and soon the T-rex was over the horizen and on his way to Sapporo.

22 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE EIGHT]

A large supersized Gorilla climbed the Empire States building. In his left hand he clutched a blonde woman who screamed with all her might. Kong, the gorilla, finally made it to the top of the building. He placed the woman on the top of the Empire State building and looked to the skies. Some incoming bi-planes were heading towards him. He looked down at the woman. 'Wait a second,' he thought. 'That's not her! Darn it, now I've got to climb all the way back down and find the right one. I've been saving her to eat later, and now I've grabbed the wrong one! Oh, what the hey!' He picked the blonde up, shoved her in his mouth and began the long climb back down. The Bi-planes didn't get to have a shot at him, as he was soon below the New York skyline where it was too dangerous for them to fly. In the meantime, back in Gothopolis, Hulky had calmed down and had returned to his normal mild mannered self. The National guard was in disarray. Inside a half demolished building, which was once a five star hotel, Clarke, Bruce and Harold counted their nights haul. 'Well young Clarke,' said Bruce, his arm once again around Clarkes shoulders. 'Looks like a great night. So many people left in a rush, and that Hulky guy demolished lots of ATM's. So much money. We're back in business.' 'So, now where do we go Mister Wayne?' asked Clarke. 'Well, I'll invest this in some companies and we'll make a fortune. On top of that, I'll buy a few other companies along the way. We'll buy ourselves some lycra suits and run around a bit.' 'I mean, where do we go from Gothopolis. This place is trashed and I think we've stolen all the money.' 'Ah, I have a plan. We'll use Gothopolis as a hide out. Meanwhile, we'll raid Gotham, Metropolis and New York provided they don't get into some sort of weird trouble.' 'I've heard of another city that might be worth raiding,' interjected Harold. 'It's called Blogopolis.' 'Blogopolis?' said Bruce. Both Clarke and Bruce burst out laughing. 'There's no money in Blogopolis. It's poverty striken!' To make matters worse, Tokyo was havign problems of it's own. A giant turtle and a T-Rex ype creature were fighting and pushing over the Tokyo radio tower. 'Ah, could be worse,' said a young Tokyoite. 'It's less damage than the time those EVA units nuked us all to bits.' 'Huh, that's all I ever hear from you, EVA units this, EVA units that,' repied his girlfriend. 'You and your stupid EVA units. You seem to forget the time G-Force totalyl nuked the place too!' 'G-Force. Huh! A bunch of wimps if you ask me! I mean, the EVA units had a much harder tiem than stupid G-Force.' His girlfriend might have made a good arguement in return, except a large T-Rex type foot landed on them squishing them rather flat. 'So,' said another Japanese boy standing a little further down the road. 'Do you think it is worse than when Spaceship Yamato was around?' A shadow moved from out of an alleyway. It was another young boy. 'What are you talking about? I just played a card letting loose my Pickachu, this is a walk in the park!' 'I still think it might be a lot worse!' 'Pttth! You'll do anything to impress me Astroboy!'

21 July, 2006


On the 16th, The Great Swifty set me a meme to do. It's been five days, and I've finally got around to downloading the award winning film and viewing it. Now for the meme bit. [I just sat down and wrote ... so this is just one long stream straight from my brain. Hope it is coherent and not repetitive]. The Meme is about Danny Lim's film, '18?' The Film was vetoed from viewing in South Korea by the Malaysian Embassy there. The Sun asks 'why?' but the article answers it's own question. Reason given is Danny Lim is, “an anti-government political activist.” Of course, the question we all ask next is, 'Is he? Is Danny Lim an anti-government political activist'? Is it true? I find it sort of ironic in a way. The film has a bit of content where artists are interviewed [I find it funny when I see artists interviewed ... remind me to tell you one day!], but in it, the artists do speak a little about the restrictive nature of the local Government. How freedom of speech and freedom of expression are suppressed ... if the Malaysian Government wanted to prove otherwise they couldn't have done a worse things than suppress the film. [Like I said, 'Sort of Ironic'. It'd only be 'completely ironic' if the Malay Government actually wants to pretend to be in favour of freedom of expression. I guess they're just proving the artists in the film correct, and after all, I never heard the Malay Government make any claim to Freedom of expression]. Anyway, I don't really want to talk about the Malay Government. I'm not writing this piece to bag out a Government I don't live under. I know enough Malaysian who can do that on their own ... but feel free to bag the Australian Government if you have the urge. I don't want to give the impression I'm saying my country is any better when it comes to the truth. After watching the film, did I find Danny to be an 'Anti-Government Political Activist'? Not really. The film just tracks down some graffiti and asks some artists their opinion of it. In fact, he's done something which has often intrigued me. Haven't we all wondered at some stage, what a piece of graffiti really means to the person who wrote it, and who that person is and what that person is into? There is a plethora of questions which comes to my mind whenever I see something that intrigues me. I mean, advertising does it on purpose often with their 'Where's the Beef?', 'Got Milk?' and other questions they throw at us.

So, someone started painting '18?' all over the place. My first impression was maybe it was 1337 5p34k [elite speak], with the 1 = L and the 8 = ate. So, my interpretation would have been 'LATE?'

My response might have been. 'I am now that I missed my bus because I stopped here to ponder the meaning of “late?”'

Of course, the film asks a lot of people a lot of questions as to the meaning of the graffiti. '18?' WTFrig does that mean? ... and isn't really that the crux of what the writer/artist wanted to make you do?

Let's face it, it's what all artists want you to do ... think, ask questions, question everything.

I come from the school of, 'Question Everything' and 'It's Okay to ask questions'. We used to have a saying at University, 'It's Okay to ask questions, just make sure you get the right answers.' The problem I've found in life though, is that those in power [whether in Government, at Church, in Management, where ever], hate it when you come up with an answer that is different to their own.

And really, isn't that the real reason the film was vetoed. After all, the film itself doesn't give us the person who did the graffiti. We're left with a number of interpretations from a few different people, though the last bit with 'CD' of the different graffiti around the city does seem to give us a possible conclusive answer to the question being asked. [Though, is this CD really from the person who started the '18?' graffiti?]

I'm not sure it is, but I'm also not sure it isn't. [It's another question]. For all we know, the original graffiti artist who did the first '18?' graffiti was talking about something else. Someone else might have grabbed the graffiti and used it for their own purpose.

BUT, even if we are left with the reason for the graffiti, [if we believe the CD was authentic and the '18?' message is a questioning of National Service], the film maker is only the messenger of that reason. At no time does the film say, 'This is the reason for the graffiti and WE AGREE with what it is saying.' Nor does the film say, 'You must be against National Service'. Gees, if a film maker wanted to do a film like that, all they have to do is haul up a million arguments as to why it is bad, and bring forth people whose lives have been ruined by National Service. I didn't see that in this film.

The film isn't an expose on whether National Service is good or not. It's only tracking down the reason for the graffiti.

We do get to see a few artists who lament the lack of freedom of speech and expression under the present Government. Is this why the Government wants the film vetoed? After all, if people ask if they should have more right to speak what's on their mind, is the Government so insecure that they'll try to suppress it? Their actions seem to say that they are.

BUT, even at the end of all that, is this the film makers view? [Well, it probably is now that his film has been suppressed.] Are these not the views of the artists within the film?

Surely a Government secure in itself and it's own policies won't mind the people asking questions. After all, if they are improving things, then they can answer any criticism that people may have of them.

I think the two things in this film that are questions from the people are: 'Is National Service necessary?' and 'Should the people have more freedom of expression?'

I guess the vetoing is the Government saying, 'Don't ask questions!' But, every artist and every film maker any where in the world can tell you, the artist is there to reflect society and to ask questions. The only real reason a Government anywhere wants to stop people asking questions, is maybe they're afraid the people will have an answer different to their own. Whether the peoples answer is right or not, is irrelevant to the Government. However, as an artist myself, I believe the questioning from the people is important, even when they question the Government.

The vetoing of the film was a silly thing for the Government to do, as it INTERPRETS the film as being anti-government. It takes away the viewers ability to question by giving us an answer. The sad thing being, it may not be the answer the film maker wanted us to conclude, [ and as I said before, the film maker isn't trying to give us an answer, they're trying to get us to ask questions].

The vetoing seems to confirm one of the issues brought up by the artists in the film. When freedom of expression is removed, then the people have to express themselves in the only medium left to them, vandalism in the form of graffiti.

If the people are not allowed to say it, not allowed to express it, then truly, 'the writing is on the wall!'

If I had of been able to see this film WITHOUT knowing it had been vetoed, I doubt I could make much 'Anti-Government activism' in the film at all. After all, the original question was concerning, 'What's this graffiti that's become ubiquitous throughout the city? Who did it? What does it mean?' etc.

Sure, some in the film said it was against National Service, the CD at the end seems to conclude that it was by someone with that view. Still, the film itself did not say it agreed with this view.

Some of the artists complained of lack of freedom in speech and expression. Don't all artists complain of this, especially when they produce controversial pieces of art?

BUT, all conclusions have been taken away from the average person by the veto. We are TOLD it is Anti-Government by the Government.

I personally thought the film was quite a positive piece. The Governments actions are at least confirming the views put forward by the artists within the film. They said the Government was restrictive, and the Government goes out of their way to prove them right.

The writing is on the wall ... with more to come I would guess.

The MEME's rules:

  1. Post Youtube's embeddable player of 18? on your entry.Post a link to Danny Lim's site to download his film. (if you are nice, you can even start a mirror site for him)

  2. Voice out your opinions about the film , whether it is positive or negative. It can be a line, it can be a word, it can be a paragraph, it can be a fully essay, it's all up to you. No one's going to berate you for your opinions, you don't have to love the film, but at least spread it around.

  3. Tag three others to do the same.

I didn't embed the Youtube thingy, cause I'm too lazy to figure out how to do that. Link to Danny's site is above.

Anyone who wants to download the film and do the meme can do so. I'm tagging Batman, Spiderman and Superman. :-)

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE SEVEN]

The News Reporter moved amongst the carnage of Gothopolis. Behind her, cars burned, building walls collapsed and Barry Manilow could be heard playing in the background. The camera and sound man followed her through the wreckage. Most of the area was deserted. In the distant the sound of tanks driving through the city could be heard. She stopped and composed herself, checking her hair and suit. She looked over her shoulder to ensure the scene behind her looked right. She turned back to the cameraman, microphone in hand. 'Start rolling on three,' said the reporter. 'One, Two, Three ... The scene behind me looks like a terrorist group may have struck Gothopolis. This entire neighbourhood seems to have been detroyed. Cars ahve been overturned, buildings destroyed and civilians sent running for their lives. Reports of an unidentified large green monster have been coming in from all over. The Mayor of Gothopolis and the police commissioner have been quick to deny that such a monster exists. Casualties are unknown at present, though the sound of the national guards tanks and gun fire can be heard in the distance.' As she said this, a group of US army soldiers could be seen running down a nearby street. They were closely followed by a tank, which for all intensive purposes was flying upside down, with it's gun barrel tied in a knot. 'We're here at what appears to be the epicentre of the ensuring disaster. As you can see, this is not a natural disaster, this is man made. Whoever, or whatever group is responsible is as yet unknown. All we are sure of, is that people are leaving in droves, the city burns, and the authorities seem to be unable to cope with what is happening. Who can save Gothopolis now? We don't know. Maybe we need some sort of superman. Who knows? This is Lois Lane, signing off for Channel thirty eight news.' 'Cut,' said the sound man. 'That was great Miss Lane.' 'Thanks,' said Lois as the news crew headed back towards where they'd parked their van. 'Whatever is happening here, it certainly is more than the National Guard seem to be able to handle.' 'Yeah, let's get outof here before we find out,' said the camera man. If they could have stayed ten seconds more, they would have had the news report of the year. A large green monster appeared at the end of the street and ran ... neigh, bounded down the road. He stomped on cars, bent street light poles and peed a big green pee into the air like a fountain. Let's face it, in the comic stripes this guy may have had magic stretch underpants, but in real life, there wasn't a pair of jeans that could hold this monster. So, big green Hulky was running naked around Gothopolis where the entire National Guard could see his tackle. How he peed flouro green will be a mystery for many years, but Hulky, alias mild mannered Doctor William Banner [yes, the comic books, tee vee show and movie changed his name], could make green fountains, whcih he liked to spray all over the place. If you've ever woken up with strange green stains all over your house, it's most likely that Hulky has marked his territory. Meanwhile, Clarke was still at the top of the building he'd managed to leap to the roof of, Harold firmly in a place he'd rather he wasn't. 'Don't worry Harold,' said Clarke. 'I'll get you out.' It took some effort, but thanks to his remaining super powers Clarke was able to get Harold out. Just as he finished, Bruce Wayne arrived at the top of the building via the stairs. 'Ah, you're still alive,' said Bruce. 'No thanks to anyone warning me about that guy,' replied Clarke. 'Well, you need to understand about Gothopolis,' said Bruce. 'This is the place where ex-superheroes, super villians and shamed glam bands come to live out the remander of their days. It's an ugly town, but it's the only one we cna go where the authorities will ignore us most of the time.' 'You seemed pretty switched on mister,' said Harold. 'Can you help Clarke here regain his super powers? You see, the FBI gave him some bad stuff, and his powers have gone.' 'If you can get me the money, I can restart my Wayne Industries company. I've got the business brilliance to make a lot of money, but I need someone to act as a front for the company. You see, if people know it's me, they won't buy the products. However, if they think it's a new kid on the block, then I can make them, and myself rich. I can return to fighting crime.' 'And I can return to my drug habit,' said Clarke. 'I can get you that money, Mister. I just need to snatch a few more handbags, and we're on our way!' 'That's the spirit, lad,' said Bruce. Bruce, harodl and Clarke (with a slight limp), left the top of the building and headed to the stairwell. Below, the city burned and the sounds of the sirens from the cities emergency services could be heard. Soldiers screamed and tanks were washed down the road in a river of green. A shadow no one had noticed moved across the roof top. It spoke in little more than a whisper to itself, 'I think I have to stop that handbag snatcher. Or else my name isn't Lex Lunther.'

20 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE SIX]

So it was, that Clarke found himself almost powerless. Sure, he coudl still outrun most people, and was stronger than most people, but his powers were greatly diminished. As such, he reverted to handbag snatchings and petty crime in order to maintain his now addicted body. Harold and the other Gremlins helped where they could in the occassional muggings, Seven Eleven robberies and beating up old ladies who pushed in line. Clarke realised that maybe he needed to have a good think about his life. He decided to head back tot he old farm to talk to Jor-L, to see if he could reverse the Kryptonitic effect of the funny powder. 'Daggnimitty darn it,' said Jor-L, who's program had got mixed with Jonathan and Marthas. 'I'll back you some cookies and tuck you in.' 'I don't need tucking in, I need my superpower restored.' 'Daggnammmity nimmity noobity,' said Jor-L. 'Those darn FBI agents scrambled the database when they were trying to work out how the computer worked on the spaceship. Now I have no idea what I'm up to. Anyway dear, don't worry about those nasty bullies. If you turn the other cheek, eventually they'll realise what a sweet boy you are and will become yoru friends.' 'Stop it,' said Clarke. 'If you won't help me, I'll return to Metropolis and revert to stealing handbags some more!' 'Daggnammititty Clarke, if I had my database in order, I'd know exactly how to sort this all out. In the meantime, have some milk and cookies. Problems are never as bad as they first seem. Dagggnammmmity!!!!' So, Clarke went to Gothopolis (which was a City between Gotham and Metropolis). He and Harold couldn't snatch enough handbags that night to afford a room, so the decided to hunker down in an alleyway with some down and outs. 'Huh,' said one of them hobos. 'You'd never believe how good I used to have it. My own mansion in Gotham city. I invented everything. I owned that city. Remember the M-Pod. Yeah, I invented that. Best seller for a while. Helecopters, boats, weird shaped cars. I owne them all.' 'Huh! I wish I ever had it that good,' said a second hobo. 'I was poor, but at least I was happy. Lived with my aunt Elsie and stuff, till one day a radioactive, genetically mutated spider bit me. Had problems ever since.' 'Sounds bad kid,' said the first hobo putting his arm around the second one. 'Tell me more about it.' 'Well, I was pretty sick for a while. Then these funny hairs grew on my fingers. I found I was able to climb walls, like a real spider.' 'Hey, I bet you were able to make spiderwebs fly out your wrist or something!' 'Huh! I wish, you ever seen a spider spin webs out it's wrist? Nah! They spin that stuff out their butts. I started to grow a weird gland near my butt-hole. At first I thought it was just bad hemoroids. No way. I kept putting cream on it. Didn't help. Then this white sticky stuff started coming out of it.' 'So, you can spin webs out your butt. That doesn't make a kid run away from home.' 'Nah, it had to do with the girl next door. A sort of ... incident happened. I was standing there, and forgot to close the curtains. I was checking the gland out and had a heap of white stuff on my fingers ... sticky web stuff. Anyway, I looked out the window an across to Mary Janes window. She was standing there staring at me. I sort of waved at her, and she saw all the sticky stuff on my hands. Called the police. I've been a fugitive ever since.' 'Here, let your Uncle Bruce comfort you for a while,' said the hobo named Bruce, as he gave poor Peter [the other hobo] a reassuring hug with his arm. 'Anyway Uncle Bruce,' continued Peter. 'You were some rich millionaire in Gotham. What happened to you.' 'It's a long story,' said Bruce. 'As a millionaire, philanthropist I was trying to do my best for the community. I built a big mansion and filled with all sorts of fun stuff. Lyrca suits, masks, gadgets. heaps of gadgets. Everything a young ward might want. Well, I really wasn't hurting anyone. I took in a young orphan named Dick. Well, as you can imagine, one thing lead to another. Probably all that running around in lycra suits did it. But, we became close, as guys often do. You know, doing guy stuff. Anyway, somewhere along the way, people just got the wrong idea. Became worse when some young upstart photographer from the Daily Planet, I tihnk his name was Jimmy Olsen or something. Anyway, he snapped some photo of me giving Dick a fatherly tonguey and that was it. Photo got published, people stopped buying Wayne products. The authorities too Dick away, and my fortune dwindled to nothing.' Somewhere in the telling of the story, young Peter had struggled loose, leapt up and ran down the alley. He almost tripped on a green scaley guy flopping around at the back of an alley. Someof the other hobos had found him in the river and hauled him out. Seeing he was all sort of green, they assumed he'd drowned, btu he'd started flopping around and struggling to breath. They figured placing him close ot one of the open fires in the alley might help him, but the guy just seemed to keep getting worse. Clarke and Harold entered the alleyway and pulled up a position next to some thin scientific looking guy. 'So, nice night,' said Clarke to him. 'Yeah, guess it is.' 'You, ah, hang here often?' 'Just when hiding from the US army.' Really? You AWOL?' 'Nah, I have an anger management problem ...' 'Really? You can't be that bad when you're angry?' 'Oh, you won't like me when I'm angry. I turn into a monster. A Big green ugly one.' 'A weedy looking guy like you? Don't make me laugh.' 'Please, don't call me weedy. I'm not weedy, Okay. Don't make me angry!' 'Oh, gees,' said another hobo. 'Everyone, get out of here, he's stiring up hulky again!' With that, the rest of the hobos took to their heals and ran. Clarke was lucky he still had some superpowers. He didn't know what hit him, but to any onlooker it would have been obvious. Hulky had picked up Harold and rammed him somewhre Clarke didn't want him. Clarkes super power to leap tall buildings returned that instant!

19 July, 2006

World Cup Meme

World Cup Meme

This one’s taken from Laksa, who probably wondered where I was! lol

Your Best worldcup experience?

Eating, drinking soft drink and being happy at all hours of the night. I'm still sort of blur! lol

The best match?

Don't know. I don't remember that much any more. I loved the end of the Aussies Vs Japan match!

Your favorite chant?

'You're Ugly, You're Ugly, Yo Momma Says Yo Ugly!'

Oh wait, that's from Wildcats ... let me think. Only one I seem to remember was the English chanting something about 'My Grandfather killed your Grandfather' or something.

Most beatiful jersey?

I like blue, so Japan, Italy [friggin' divers] and well ... most of those nice blue jerseys.

Champion of the hearts?

Um ... as an Aussie I have to go for us Aussies. lol I thought Trinidad & Tobago & Costa Rica were also an underdog sort of favourites of mine. I didn't expect them to win ... but had to sort of go for them anyway! :-) In fact, I cheered for a lot of the underdogs even when I chose the other team to win.

Best beer during the worldcup?

I'm allergic to beer ... so, Ginger Beer! :-)

Most favorite player?

Hard to pick. Many good players on a lot of teams deserving of pats on the back. Let's face it, a lot of players put their hearts, minds and souls into this match. Teams like Togo probably shouldn't have been there, but their players still did their darndest to make an impression.

Best moment on TV?

I think when the Aussies scored those three goals against Japan! Wonderful way to end the match! :-)

Worst moment on TV?

All the bad refereeing decisions. I think they wanted to go for a record this time!

I also hate it when it goes to penalty shoot outs. Shoot outs aren't a nice way to go out of a tournament, and not a nice way to lose the cup. I'd prefer they go to more extra time and mroe extra time till the players die from exhaustion and someone dribbles it past the corps of the goalkeeper (who died of boredom!) lol

Did you enjoy it?

Yes and no. Great soccer skills. Wonderful to watch. Crap refereeing decisions. When they gave the Italians the penalty against Australia I almost 'burnt all my old soccer trophies and vowed never to watch a soccer game again'. It brought back too many bad memories of bad refereeing when I was playing (probably the main reason I stopped playing and switched to American Football).

And now? Back to the day job! :-)

Apologies to Swifty. I still haven't got around to your meme ... so much to think about with yours.

18 July, 2006

The Da Vampire Code [Dabvertisement!]

We interupt this Superman story for a Dabvertisement!
Synopsis: Tom Hanks and Ron howard are conned into doing a crap movie about some French guy named Pierre Plantard's attempt to pretend he is French Royalty in a grab for the French Throne. Plantard plants fake evidence that Leonardo Da Vinci was a Vampire by biting himself on the neck. He claims Jesus was married to a fish and oversaw the Darren Hayes gay wedding. A Priest named Sauniere wins the lottery and lives happily ever after. Hanks and Howard get to ride on the Orient Express and have surnames starting with 'H'. Weeks go by, and people still think the movie is crap. The advertising money runs out and people flock to see Dead Man's Chest. In 1969 Man landed on the moon ... now he's back, and this time it's personal!!!!! Unfortunately, along the way, Hanks spaceship springs a leak and only Jesus can save them. Mr Blonde turns up, tortures one of the other astronauts and leaves before discovering that a Royale is actually a Quarter Pounder. Yes, the French do have the metric system, and so does Australia, so does that make Australians friggin' stupid for calling it a quarter pounder when we really should call it a friggin' 0.1133980925 Kilogrammer? Or maybe a 113.3980925 Grammer ... and how much does a Kelsey Grammer weight As much as a quarter pounder? In the mean time, Captain Jack runs into Davey Jones, who he had previously whipped with a towel in the locker room. Yes, they do call him Squid face! Other Vampire members of the Dentists of Pions [a quantum incisor school], include Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo and Bob the Builder. The Anti-Christ appears and then leaves as he forgets his lines. Howard chops most of his scenes and Nostradamus latest Quatain predicts another Hollywood flop! Hanks discovers that the anagram of Priory of Sion is Son of Rory Pii, proving that some guy named Rory killed the Priest killed in the beginning of the book. At this point I walked on the movie, as it was getting far to silly, even for me! :-)

17 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE FIVE]

'You idiot,' said Harold the Gremlin, as Clarke dropped the drug pusher to the ground. 'You've just killed the only guy with a supply big enough to keep you going.' 'We'll find another one,' said Clarke. 'If you keep killing them, we'll run out of drug pushers!' At that point, Fox Dabido and Elm Scully came around the corner. They were tailing Clarke, but found it difficult at times, as he was so fast. 'What are we going to do Dabido?' asked Elm. 'You see this?' asked Dabido. 'Um, looks like a Gucci handbag!' 'Yep, bought it today. Matches my shoes,' said Dabido, straightening his hair and battin his eyelids a bit. 'Ah, looks a little feminine don't you think?' she asked. 'What? My new shoes! Oh, that bitch at the store told me they made my eyes stand out!' Agent Dabido flapped his arms about and danced in a circle like a gay alien who had just landed on a colour co-ordinated planet! 'Not the shoes! I mean the handbag!' 'Oh, that! Well, I wasnt' going to keep THAT! That's our bait for the Kent kid.' 'How do you figure that?' Dabido lifted a large plastic bag out of the Gucci. 'See this,' he said. 'It's pure...' Before he could finish the sentence, Clarke had seen the white powder in the plastic bag. He'd scored big time! In a flash he was over and ripped the Gucci handbag out of Dabido's arms! 'That BITCH!' screamed Dabido as he spun to the ground, less one Gucci handbag. 'That was Clarke,' said Agent Scully. 'Oh,' said Dabid. 'Well, that went well!' 'What are you talking about?' asked Scully. 'He just took the bait and ran ... or flew ... sort of ran and flew! Darn that kid moves fast.' 'Oh,' said Dabido. 'That was the plan. You see, we now have him on several counts! First, handbag snatching. Second, beingin possession of two kilo of heroin.' 'BUT ... WE ... HAVEN'T ... CAUGHT ... HIM!' said Scully through clenched teeth. 'Ah, you see, while I was scouting around the farm,' said Dabido. 'I found this spaceship, and I got talking with it's computer. Now, the computer happened to have a lot of weird playboy type magazines, but I found these other programs! First, one called Jor-L, and another called Daggnammity Jonathan Kent, and a third named Martha Kent. They were all the consciousness of this kids parents.' 'Um, doesn't that add up to three parents?' 'I don't know how many people it takes for aliens to mate! Anyway, apparently he's from a planet called Krypton.' 'Isn't that a gas?' asked Scully. 'Oh, it's a real trip, baby!' 'NO! Not that sort of gas. I mean, isn't it a type of gas, like in AIR!!!' 'Oh, air! Yeah. Anyway, I have to tell you about the most gorgeous set of belts and ties I found at Armani's.' 'We were discussing Clarke!' 'Oh, yeah. Remind me to tell the accessories story later then. Anyway sister, apparently, his allergic to this stuff called Kryptonite, which is a radioactive rock from his world.' 'So?' 'So, I laced the heroin full of the stuff. Jor-L helped guide me through how much was enough, and I've put enough in there to take away most of his super powers!' 'So, you've slowed him down?' 'Like a sloth on a valium, Baby!' It was true. Clarke, after sniffing the whoel two kilo's in one go, was lacking any normal super abilities. No longer could he see through girls dresses. No longer was he faster than a speeding bullet (except in the bedroom). No longer could he leap tall buildings in a single bound, (though he could go up the stair well ten steps at a time!) Clarke didn't test his ability to stop a speeding locomotive, but if he had of, he would have come off second best. Little did Fox and Elm know, but their entire conversation, including Dabido's later story about the accessories at Armani, was overheard by non other than Harold the Gremlin.

A Tail of Two Monkeys

Apologies. I'll try and get around to doing some pictures for this story later. I have to work till 9PM tonight, so don't have the time to do anything other than write it today. Please, use your imagination till I get around to the drawings! Thnx! A TAIL of TWO MONKEYS It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times (yes, you often wonderd what that monkey at the typewriter on the Simpsons was writing!). Anywat, all was usual in the jungle, with most of the monkeys busy, chatting away to each other, doing the usual monkey thing. Dabido the Orangutan was busy sitting on his mountain of bananas, chewing away, thinking about the state of the world. He re-arranged some banana skins in the hope it might either prove or disprove string theory. Suddenly, a rock bounced off his head. He had received a tree mail. Yes, things were a foot in the jungle. All hell had broken loose. Apparently, one young monkey had been piling monkey poo in the jungle canopy above another monkey. Nothing seemed wrong till the branch broke and the poo came tumbling down on the poor monkey. Well, you can understand this monkey's rage. She in turn began flinging monkey poo back at the first monkey. Well, monkeys being the way that they were all began making their monkey chatters and squeals. The poo flinging was on for one and all. But, this isn't really a tail about these two monkeys. You see, that poo storm has been and gone, and we're not really concerned with that. This story is really about a group we shall call the Monkey Mob Klan. They like to run about in bedsheets. Dabido the Orangutan thought they must be even uglier than him (if that is possible), as they often wear hoods made of pillowcases over their heads. They claim it's so they can remain anonymous, but most of the monkeys knew that if they had nothing to hide, then they wouldn't need to be anonymous. Anywat, members of this mob of monkeys decided to head over to the first monkey's tree. While other wiser monkey's had prefered to voice their opinions out in the open, and without anything to hide, these MMK monkeys had decided to attack the first monkey. They did some things like setting fire to the tree, tried chopping it down by banging their heads against it, and generally being rude, flinging poo and making death threats. Most wiser monkeys realised that this was just all smoke and a lot of noise. But, this upset the poor monkey none the less. It also upset some of her friends, who then proceeded to defend the monkey's actions. Alas, some of this was poorly executed, and it sounded a bit like they were approving her right to go around heaping poo on other monkeys. After a lot of more reasoned chattering amongst the monkeys, a sort of consensus was reached. The two monkeys at the middle of it all had made up and you think it might have been the end of it. Well, it sort of was, except for this stupid group called the MMK. You see, other members (and let's face it, they are all members of the same anonymous group of monkeys), decided to head over to the tree of one of the wiser monkey's who had objected to the poo piling. This wise monkey was trying to show the first monkey the error of her ways, becasue after all, is it not the place of wiser monkeys to guide and nuture the younger ones. This attack on the wise monkey the MMK did as 'retribution' for the other members of their MMKlan who had made death threats and things to the first monkey. Now, they had turned up with flaming torches and their inane chattering, and started to head butt the tree in the hope it will fall over. But, the wise monkey ignored them. You see, she was a veteran of these sorts of things. Screaming MMK idiots were a dime a dozen, and she'd survived these silly tormentors before. The problem was, these MMK monkeys didn't seem to realise, that the very monkeys they really wanted to hurt, were the ones who were members of their own anonymous group. After all, it was the MMK monkeys who were making the anonymous death threats and things to begin with. Of course, because they had all remained anonymous, when the MMK turned once again, (for truely a lot of these were involved in the original poo piling to begin with), they were not actually hurting those who had made the threats or flung poo. So, the MMK monkeys didn't realise that their own behaviour was beign ignored by the majority of the monkeys. You see, the wise monkeys knew that this was all going to blow over in time. The MMK monkeys would turn up each day in smaller and smaller numbers, till eventually there would be none. They would get bored and seek another monkey to torment, some poor monkey who might react to the poo flinging, death threats and head butting. 'After all,' the MMK monkeys said to themselves. 'We've driven other monkeys from the jungle. We've caused them to close down their trees. We can do it again. We just have to find the right monkey to tourment.' Alas, these poor misguided MMK monkeys didn't realise, that their name calling and death threats are the cause for a lot of these problems. Maybe the wiser monkeys don't always get it right. After all, there were a lot of wise monkeys commenting. Some said, 'They are old enough to sort it out themselves.' Other's said ,'Piling poo and flinging poo is uncalled for by any monkey.' While others said, 'They are young. Let them pile an fling poo till they grow up.' But the point is, these wiser monkeys did not lower themselves to poo flinging. They may have had disagreeing opinions, but they prefered to talk, express and argue in rational ways as to what they had seen. As for the MMK, they're still out there. Some will eventually grow up and leave the MMK. Others will never grow up, and it is sad to see. While other young monkeys will join their ranks. 'Hmmm, it's been an interesting week,' said Dabido the Orangutan as he re-arranged his banana skins to solve Fermat's last theorem. 'Daggnammit, Dabido,' said Albert Orangstein. 'You were working on string theory, not playing with algebraic powers!' 'Sorry, Albert,' said Dabido the Orangutan. 'My mind got distracted for a while. You see, sometimes rivial matters in life distract us all from our important work.' 'Important work?' asked Albert. 'What like?' 'Well, eating bananas fora start!' With that Albert laughed and both Albert and Dabido sat back and ate another banana. And as we leave the jungle for another day, the chattering of monkeys and Orangutans could be heard in the distance. 'So ... what do you think of Rambutans?' asked Dabido. 'I could go a durian ice cream actually,' replied Albert. 'Ice cream sounds nice.' 'Yeah, I know a good shop run by humans that sells the stuff.' .................... ......... ... .

Vicky, hows this monster?

They often refer to Envy as the UGLY GREEN MONSTER [when me and Shrek aren't around], so when Vicky asked me to make a green monster, I thought Kewl, I'll do an advertisement for Envy, the forogtten sin! Everyone is so into gluttony and lust, they're forgotten some of our childisher sins! :-) So get out there and find someone to envy!!! :-)
While we're at it, ignore my Envy caption. Let's see who can come up with the best Green Monster Caption. :-) [Waits for lots of snot & Hulk jokes!] :-) YES, that means you ahve permission to steal the picture and add your own logo and stick it on yor own site! :-)

16 July, 2006

Monsters are the Posts of the moment.

After seeing Suan's masterpiece, I decided to use it as a template for my own monster.

15 July, 2006

Ashish's Mom Meme

I've been tagged by Ashish to do his mom meme.

Subject: Stop or My Mom Will Shoot


'Why does this remind me of a bad Stalone Movie?' I asked myself as I walked into Rocky Fifteen.

'Because, it is a bad Stalone movie,' my inner voice told me.

'Oh, yeah! I remember the very first one in nineteen seventy six,' I said.

'Yes, and it's twenty twenty six, the fiftieth aniversary,' my inner voice told me. My inner voice was good at maths like that.

'It reminds me of that other thing,' I said.

'What other thing? You mean "Stop or my Mom will shoot"?' asked my inner voice.

'That's the one,' I replied. 'The time I was at the Police Academy and my mother was an instructor.'

'You know something else?' asked my inner voice. 'It was also the name of another stupid movie!'

'What? There's a movie called "Stop or my mom will shoot"?'

'Um ... yeah sure, but I was tlakin about Police Academy.'

'Oh yeah! You're pretty smart for a part of brain that's come lose and has a mind of it's own.'

'Aw, thanks Dabido! Big Orangutan hugs for you!'

So, my inner voice and I walked into the movie.

'GET DOWN IN FRONT!' screamed a person from the back of the cinema.' 'I'm just trying to find my seat,' I replied. Then I realised who it was. It was my mom. 'Better do as she says,' said my inner voice. 'I'm doing it already,' I replied. 'I'm not kidding you, she will shoot,' said my inner voice. 'I know she'll shoot. It's my mother too!' 'SHUT UP! AND SIT DOWN!' she screamed at me. 'Yes, mom!' *BANG* It was too late. She'd shot me in the leg. I crawled out of the cinema into the foyer. 'Is there a phone here?' I asked one of the cinema ushers. 'I'll call you an ambulance,' the usher replied. 'Oh, thanks. Much appreciated.' 'You're an ambulance!' 'Um, when you said you would call me an ambulance, I thought you meant phone one for me.' 'Oh, yeah. That might be more helpful.' So the usher phoned an ambulance. I kept dragging myself out to the street, in the hope it would be safer awy from my mother. I was wrong, she'd followed me to the street. 'Mom,' I said. 'Are you going to help me?' *BANG* Shot in the other leg. Just then the ambulance arrived ... and drove over the top of me. 'Where's the guy who's been shot?' asked the ambulance guy. 'I'm under the ambulance,' I replied. 'What are you doing under there?' the ambulance guy asked. 'You drove over the top of me.' 'Okay, I'll radio it in. Hello, base, we seem to have a guy, shot in both legs and suffering compression wounds from being run over.' 'This is base. Did you run someone over again?' 'Oh, just a little, base.' 'That's it, you're sacked!' 'Well, if that's the case, I'm going home.' And with that the guy got back in the ambulance and left ... reversing over me. 'Gees, this isn't your night,' said the usher, as a parking inspector slapped an infringement notice on my forehead for lying down in carriage way. 'Can you get me to the hospital?' I asked the usher. 'No, but I can call you a taxi,' he replied. 'That'd be nice thanks,' i said. 'Okay, you're a taxi!' 'Maybe it's the lack of blood talking, but I'm not in the mood for your jokes!' 'Jokes?' he wandered off, and back into the cinema complex.

'I guess I better just crawl to the hospital on my own,' I said to myself.

'Oh,' said my inner voice. 'I forgot to tell you. Bus!'


At this point a bus drove over the top of me.

'Hey, you bus driver?' I asked.

'Who said that?' asked the bus driver.

'Me, you just ran me over! Anyway, do you go near the hospital at all?'

'Yeah, I drive right by it.'

'Good, step on the gas. I'll let go as you're driving past and crawl the rest of the way in.'

And with that, the bus drove off with me clinging to it's undercarriage. As we past the hospital, I let go and crawled the rest of the way in.

'And that Mister Doctor is how I got so injured,' I said.

'I don't know,' said the Doctor. 'It still doesn't explain the chemical burns, the harpoon or the bear trap.'

'Ah, well,' I said. 'Those things happened on the way to the cinema!'



1) Should be about your mom.

2) Can be anything.

3) You can tag anyone with this thing but it is not necessary.

4) You can specify what the person will write about if you are tagging him/her.


I'm not tagging anyone. lol Grab it if you're struggling for blog content! :-)

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE FOUR]

So began Clarkes decent into the dark side. Being an alien, the funny powder had a slightly different effect than it would on a human. For one thing, when he was coming down off the stuff, because he hadn't eaten in days, he got SUPERMUNCHIES! He also became extremely popular. Every Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and other days, a large crowd of students from SmalleThorpe High would come over to the Clarke Farm. The fact that Clarke had ceased going to school didn't matter. The school and local police had given up trying to get him to go. Also, the local police usually avoided the area. They'd lost several police cars to 'flyin cow incidents' on numerous occassions. So it was, one Friday night, that the usual party occurred. Most of the students didn't mind the Gremlins. They'd at first thought it was the funny white powder causing them to halucinate, but after a while, most drug users begin to have trouble recognising the difference between reality and their trips. So it was, than even when not off the planet on the funny white powder, the the students began to see Gremlins as a normal part of Smallethorpes inhabitants. What Clarke had failed to notice, was the powder was starting to run low. As Clarke had just been partying hard and not tending the crops, there were no more poppies left. They'd all died. Clarke wandered into the living rom that party, and noticed some of the guys watching a strange video. 'What's that guy on the video doing trying to squash that girl?' asked Clarke naively. Harold the Gremlin had to sit him down and give him the talk. It was at this point, that Lana, (totally off her face), asked Clarke to take her upstairs to his bedroom to practice. Clarke decided to give it a try. To cut a long story short, after about fifteen seconds into the act (yes, superman is faster than a speeding bullet), Lana was seen going through the roof and across the sky, never to be seen again. [Thus explaining why Lana is not heard of in later Superman novels]. Not to worry about it though, she landed safely (with a few cuts and bruises from the wooden roof shingles) somewhere in upper Syberia. Thanks to a heavy snowfall and lots of trees, she didn't suffer from the landing. She did have a bit of a hard time explaining to the local Russian military base how she had got there, completely naked and very pregnant. She was a very popular girl after that. Nine days later, she gave birth to supertwins, but, we'll talk about that another day. Meanwhile, back in Smallethorpe, Clarke was a little confused and devestated. With the mysterious disappearance of Lana, the police could no longer ignore what has happening at the Kent Farm. It was suspected murder, but without a body (or Lana phoning from Russia), the police case couldn't come to any conclusion. The suspected Clarke, but couldn't quite place him as being with her at the time. It was at about this time, that FBI agents Fox Dabido and Elm Scully were sent to investigate. 'What have we got, Scully?' asked Dabido. 'Gremlins,' replied Scully. 'I had them once. Doctor gave me some ointment, cleaned it right up.' 'No, the farm is infested with Gremlins. Their, creatures from word war two. They used to pull planes apart.' 'What? Like in that Twilight Zone episode?' 'And the movies.' 'Which movies?' 'Gremlins, and Gremlins two,' she replied. 'Hmmm, don't think I've seen either of those. Hey look, they've got pet lizards!' 'No, Fox! Those are Gremlins!' 'Rack off,' said Harold. 'This is our farm now! Get your own place!' 'Wow, talking lizards,' said Dabido. 'Theyr'e not lizards! They're GREMLINS!' exclaimed Elm.

14 July, 2006

Deeply Insulted

There has been a recent 'tiff' in the blogsphere, over a certain blogger calling another one names as she was 'mistaken' for her. Other's joined in and also critisized this poor bloggers looks. At the end of the day, I think I am the most insulted. Phrases like this were bandied about: 'ugly, fat, look like a man, flabby' Hello!!!! I am an ugly, fat flabby man!!!!! I'm also OLD!!! I have ONE up on anyone who ONLY meets the first description!!!! 'she is so insulted because I'm the ugliest blogger she has ever seen' I mean, that just completely proves they've never had the common decency to even come here and have a look! Else, they would have said that I was the ugliest blogger they'd ever seen. I'm so darn insulted! I know, some of you will try to be nice and say nice things, like, 'You're not that ugly' and 'even baboons get girl friends' and 'shut up ugly elephant face and go eat another pizza'. But, let's face it, your kind words just won't help me. I know what happened at my birth. First, the Doctor slapped me ... in the face. The nurse pointed out his mistake and he said, 'That wasn't his butt?' After the doctor got through spanking me, the nurses queued up. Even my mother got a few slaps in. When doing their rounds, a matron mistook me for an Orangutan and I was briefly shipped off to the zoo until the mistake was realised. In fact, the mistake was only recognised when the Orangutans were found cowering in the corner and wimpering. Once I was removed from the cage they returned to their normal happy ape-like selves.
My baptism wasn't much better, with both my parents, the priest, my god-parents and half the congregation pushing my head into the baptisimal font in the hope there was enough holy water to drown me. My father used to give me pluged in toasters to play with in the bath. Worst of all, was my teenage years. I was invited [out of pity mind you], to a fancy dress party. It was 'come with a date' type party and only couples were being admitted. Well, not being able to get a date, [because I was so ugly], I dropped by the local zoo and kidnapped a gorilla. I arrived at the party and pretended the gorilla was my date. I also, turned up in a gorilla costume. Well, the gorilla mixed well with the people there, and even some of the other guys hit on her a bit. I realised I was onto something. From now on, I'd only accept invitations to costume parties and could just turn up with the gorilla. Then, disaster struck. The end of the night came around, and it was time for the prizes. I won the first prize for most realistic costume. The gorilla was furious (being an actual gorilla and all) and stormed out of the party. [It grabbed the host by the leg and dragged him back to the zoo, but that's another story.] No longer would I be able to attend costume parties. I later went to the zoo in the hope I could apologies with a bunch of bananas, but alas, by the time I arrived, I only had the banana skins left. [Which explains my weight problems]. After I got there, they were still trying to get the gorilla to surrender the parties host, and as such I wasn't permitted to enter. Worse was to come. One of the orangutans escaped from the zoo, and was at Kings Park. A fellow blogger walked up to it and asked if it was me. The orangutan was understandably upset. In fact, it threw poo all over the place, and proceeded to make those raspberry noises orangutans like to make. Let's face it, sometimes people do make genuine mistakes, and even I've mistaken people for other people ... or animals ... or inanimate objects ... or imaginary things. But, before going beserk and calling people names and everything, just remember who you are really hurting. Us bloggers who are actually ugly, whom you obviously never bother to read. And after all, even if you did blog about us ugly bloggers, don't you think we already know who we are. Like, it's a little obvious when we walk down the street and little kids point and say, 'Look mommy, it's an ugly goblin!' When villagers chase after us with pitch-forks and flaming torches chanting, 'Kill the beast! Kill the Beast.' When Hollywood makes movies about our lives and call it 'Elephant Man Meets Predator'. When churches ban the use of my name, as the very thought of my face makes the congregation vomit. [Collections have never been so chunky ... though it did keep some of the homeless kitchens well supplied]. So, remember. Don't go around claiming someone else is the ugliest blogger you've ever seen, as it just proves you haven't been to enough blogs.

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE THREE]

Now, having no earthly step parents, Clarke was left on his own. Well, not entirely alone. He had the cows, the gremlins and Jor-L to keep him company. Child Welfare Services [CWS] dropped by to take him to soem foster parents. The conversation went something like this: CWS Person: Hello Clarke. I'm here to take you to your new foster home. *PTTOOOOOOH* Bernadette: MOOOoooooOOOOOoooooOOOOoooooOOOOoooooo! *SPLAT* *CRUNCH* CWS Person: ARRRGH! A Cow has just broken every bone in my body. Bernadette: I'm Okay everyone. Nothing broken. I'm fine. CWS Person: Oh My Gooodnesss, I've gone delusional. I think the cow istalking to me. Gremlin 1: hee hee hee, let's set fire to the person! Gremlin 2: hee hee hee, I've got the matches. CWS Person: Oh great, now I'm halucinating little green monsters. Clarke: Bernadette, back to the barn. Guys, don't set fire to the person. Help me mount them on the front of my pick-up truck. We're going into town! And so it was, that the Child Welfare person was mounted on the front of the truck and driven around town like some poor deer which had been shot by red necks. 'Kiss my scaly green butts humans,' screamed Gremlin number one who's name happened to be Harold. Not that he's that important to the story. Clarke drove the truck around the streets of Smallethorpe, hoping it would impress some of the girls. He pulled into the drive through of the local MacGreasy's for a burger or two. 'Hey, Lana!' Clarke said into the intercom. 'I'll have two Double Greasy Burgers, a large shake and fried potato chips, because it's about time us American's learned that not all fried potatoes are friggin' FRENCH FRIES!' 'Clarke? Is that you?' asked Lana. 'I heard about the terrible accident with your parents. Are you doing Okay?' 'He's friggin' distrort girlie,' called Harold. 'Get yer nickers off and get in the back of the truck.' 'Who was that?' asked Lana shocked. 'Um! He's just some drunk biker I picked up at the local roadhouse,' said Clarke, who was trying hard to impress Lana. 'Don't listen to him. He's been drinking.' 'Clarke, I'm worried about you,' said Lana. 'Worried enough to get in the back of the truck?' asked Harold. 'Don't listen to him, Lana,' pleaded Clarke. 'Clarke, I think you're keeping your emotions bottled up,' said Lana. 'I'm worried you're going to do something stupid.' 'Don't worry, Lana,' replied Clarke. 'I'd never do anything stupid.' 'Hey, Clarke?' asked Harold. 'Want to really impress the chick? Try this white powder stuff your father used to sell.' 'White powder?' adked Clarke. 'I don't remember Jonathan selling any white powder!' 'Sure, he used to make it out that back out of those poppies he used to grow. You don't think he made money selling milk did you?' 'Hmmm, I do seem to remember a lot of poppies being grown.' And with that Clarke took a big whif of Jonathan's funny white powder.


Zidane is a great player, and I think we shoudl all help him in his quest to teach that b@$t@rd Materazzi a lesson! http://www.addictinggames.com/zidaneheadbuttgame.html

12 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE TWO]

Bringing up Kal-L, or Karaku Kento, and he is knowing in Japan, was not easy for Jonathan and Martha. First, there was the nappy changing problems. Well, normally it wasn't the removal of the nappy that they had a problem with. Kal-l could do that easily on his own just by releasing wind. The problem was repairing holes in the roof, or walls where the nappy (if it survived) went through. Clarke's problems were many. Ordinary things just didn't seem to work for him. Like doors and walls. Often, he could tell the difference, because as a toddler, he'd just walk through them. Jonathan had to have a talk to Jor-L. He went down into the new barn (much bigger and better than the old one, and now with improved basement for holding the spaceship). 'Daggnammitty, Jor-L,' said Jonathan. 'You're going to have to give me some hints in how to bring up this kid of yours. His gas is blowing the house walls off, his pee is making holes in the roof and killing passing birds. He's worse than the daggnammity Gremlins I bought back with me from world war two. You've got to give me some hints!' 'Well, first of all, Jonathan, I think maybe making a titanium nappy to contain some of those blasts might work.' 'How, diggity dagnam, am I supposed to put a titanium nappy on the kid? There's no way to stick the safety pins in the thing!' 'Luckily, I've got the Encyclopeida Kryptonia with me. I've devised plans on exactly how to do that.' And so it was that for most of his youth, Clarke Kent was wearing Titanium nappies. They became so bulky that he began to wear them on the outside of all his clothes. Wearing underwear on the outside became a normal thing for Clarke, and even after he learned to control his bodily functions, he maintained his idosyncratic underwearing style. Of course, having been brought up on a farm with cows, Gremlins, a holographic father and weakling humans for step parents, Kal-L basically did what he wanted. There was no method to curb him, or punish him when he did wrong. The cows started giving sour milk ... which Jonathan used to corner the market in yogurt. The Gremlins cowered in fear and behaved temselves. No longer burning barns down, nor settin fire to random cows, the Gremlins had to allie themselves to Jonathan and Martha for some form of protection from Clarke. Jor-L, being no more than a holographic image residing in the spaceship, was unable to offer much help in the matter. After all, if he was there in body and spirit, he coudl possibly control the child. Alas, all that remained was his intelligence and wisdom. As we all know, eventually Martha and Jonathan died. Little is known about this, except it involved a giant pea shooter than Clarke had fashioned from a cement pipe. Being the super strong being that he was, rather than shooting peas at his class mates, Clarke would shoot cows. It was a bit of a problem getting the cows into the pea shooter to begin with, but Clarke was strong enough to do so. You can imagine the terror on his classmates faces when a much squished cow would land fair and squarely on their car windscreens. Normally there was a sort of farewarning though. Most students learned to duck when they heard the familiar sound of: Ptoooooh! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooOOOOOooooooooooOOOOooooooooooooOOOooooooooooooooooooooo! SPLAT! Eventually, one of the cows, Bernardette, became so adept at being shot from the pea shooter, that she went on to have a successful Hollywood career as a stunt cow. [That's her in the picture above]. In fact, having been around Clarke so much had caused some of his super powers to rub off, due to his DNA coming off his hands when squishing her into the peashooter. The DNA infected her and began to get absorbed into her body. Some of the movies you might remember her from are - Wolverines stunt double in X-Men and X-Men2. Falling cow in Poseiden Adventure [she was in the background]. Stunt driver from Blues Brother's 2000 [Yeah, I didn't watch that one either!]. So, inspite of Clarkes obvious 'out of controlednessedlyness', there was some good that came out of Smallthorpe. Oh, getting back to the accident involving Clarkes adopted parents. Martha's last words were, 'Jonathan, look out for that cow!' and Jonathan's last words were, 'Dag diggity dagnammity dagnam, dagnammit, dagnammity!' Jonathan died the way he alwasy wanted to. With his face buried in breast ... pity it was Bernadettes, whcih isn't exactly the way he wanted to go. Being the soul survivor, Clarke inherited the entire farm, which was worth millions ... but more on that later.