Archive for November, 2009


An Introduction to Loopholery

November 29, 2009

Justifiable douchebaggery, or Loopholery, is the best kind, for the simple reason that the system lets you get away with it. You can be a douchebag and not have a criminal record. Imagine that.

For example, take Halloween, a human tradition by which children extricate candy from adults under the threat of vandalism. At first glance this seems extraordinarily stupid, but then again this is human society. Anyway, so let’s say a child waltzes up to your door and demands some candy. Are you seriously going to give them candy? Are you going to give them what is essentially flavoured sugar which is ridiculously detrimental to to their health?

For some reason not giving them candy is seen as a bad thing. This is a travesty and obviously alternative measures should be taken. Next time Halloween comes around don’t give them sugar. Instead, give them some healthy food. Perhaps some wholemeal bread? Dried fruit? Maybe some fish oil tablets? The wholesome choices are endless.

Of course, between you and me, the primary goal of this exercise isn’t to give birth to a new generation of fitter, healthier children, although that is a convinient side effect. No, the main goal is to see the expressions on their faces as you load them up with bland disgusting food. For maximum effect, when they knock pretend that you are indeed going to get them something delicious. Rummage around a bit in your pantry. Could it be Skittles? Chocolate? Let the suspense build, and then BAM. Roasted soybeans. Priceless.

If we catch this train of thought we can end up at many destinations. The speed limit in multi-story car parks is often 10 km/h or less. A justifiable douchebag move would be to actually go this limit, and laugh at the rage behind you. Flashy cars, which when speeding around would normally appear sexy, now look just silly crawling along. If someone confronts you, simply explain that you were following the advised limit as to expose any adults and children in the area to as little danger as possible. The key word there is children. If you can factor a benefit to children somewhere in your douchebag justification, you win.

Of course, there are different approaches to this unique way of life. The exploitation of assumptions is by far the most controversial. Assumptions are the crux of human miscommunication. Normally miscommunication is a bad thing, but in the hand of a douchebag, false assumptions can be twisted to your own advantage.

The obvious example is feigning an injury. Limping around is generally enough to garner a few tidbits of attention and sympathy, but it’s nothing to get by on. You could go the whole hog and get bandages and crutches, but is the effort worth the pay-off?

The two examples above are amateur moves. Don’t make them. The easiest way to get almost anything you want in life is simple. Shave your head, wear a head scarf and look sombre.

Before all of you jump down my throat and claim that there is no way pretending to have cancer is justifiable, I would remind you that I’m not doing anything apart from showing off my hip new headscarf and my freshly shaved eyebrows. You, the wider public, are the ones who assume, and thus make the mistake. I said nothing about cancer or chemotherapy, you merely let the seed of assumption grow into a tree of bullshit. It is your fault for any loss you sustain. I am simply exploiting your ignorance. It would be easy for you yourself to banish said ignorance, but you don’t out of fear of confrontation, or fear of breaking social norms, or what have you.

The plight of those afflicted by cancer is a noble one and rightly deserves to be supported, but if anyone does not have any idea of where their money or support is going, they are no better than me. In my opinion they are worse than me, as their effort is more about assuaging their own guilt than it is about actually curing cancer.

And to be fair, I am allowed to wear what I want. Should I be required to inform anyone I meet that I in fact do not have cancer, and that they don’t have to shower me in sympathy and favours? Should I have to wear a sign on my back saying “While I May Be Wearing A Headscarf, Which Is Often Seen On Chemotherapy Patients, I Have Not Gone Through That Particular Procedure Myself, And In Fact Am Free Of Cancer”? Of course not, that’d be a massive infringement on my freedom. You know who would take away that freedom?

A douchebag, that’s who.

There will undoubtedly be more chapters of this story to come. As I come up with new ways of douchebagging my way around the world I will be sure to share them with you, my douchebag apprentices. May your paths be fruitful, and your neighbours idiots.

Until next time, keep your head in.


Rebel Sport, A Stain Upon Society

November 23, 2009

There are some places I fear to tread, such as the hip hop section in JB Hi-Fi in case I get shot, the engineering lecture rooms at uni (Engineering students are notoriously RIPPED whereas I’m a measly arts student, with twigs for arms who enjoys discussing the artworks of Jackson Pollock and the delightful indie pop of Belle and Sebastian) or Channel nine (seriously do they have ANY good shows?). I now have a new place to add to this fast growing list, that of course being Rebel Sport.

I dubiously wandered into this monstrosity of a store last Sunday, merely to purchase a pair of swimming goggles (hey swimsuit season is coming up, I need to get in shape). What I was presented with was not a store that sells sporting goods but rather the gaping mouth of hell, with the last remnants of hope and civility poised over the edge ready to be swallowed whole at any given moment. This frightened me (as it would) for usually I attempt to avoid anything that may involve any form of physical exertion (if there was a less tiring way to eat I want to know about it) however here is a store that caters to those who actually enjoy running around and lifting heavy things.

The first thing I found most terrifying was the clothes they had on sale. I was not aware that Nike and Adidas had a line of clothing that catered directly to douche bags and ass holes, however it became increasingly clear that this particular clientele is all that they cater to. They had it all, bum bags which seem like the most pointless accessory, how much could you honestly fit in there? A tooth pick? They had Canterbury polo shirts and track pants, I personally feel sorry for the brand Canterbury because the only people in society who are tasteless enough to buy them are “Lads” however they also never buy anything and primarily steal, so the company must just be a giant financial black hole. With these two items being displayed on every manikin I was in a constant state of fear that these manikin’s would shank me or try and take my lunch money.

Another great tragedy of this store is the undeniable and overwhelming sense of constant delusion that I couldn’t help but feel as I walked through. There is a huge number of people all with way too much money, who have deluded themselves into thinking that if they buy the magic running shoes (you know the ones, they’re white and have lights in them when you walk aaaawww yeah) or the sports bags with a compartment for everything, including cheeseburgers. That they will “get in shape and look like a celebrity, I bet this is where Angelina Jolie shops”. Some of these people may in fact get in shape and healthy, then there are the “other” people. Who you can’t help but look at and think, “oh I’m so sorry but there is nothing here that can help you. There is a KFC a short roll down the street though”

Finally I find the name of the store itself to be somewhat of a lie. While they call themselves “Rebel Sport” I fail to see anything they sell within their store to be slightly rebellious in the least. Such as Rugby, this is one of the most popular Australian sports and could hardly be considered rebellious. If they want to impress me they will need to start making up some truly rebellious sports that go against the norms. Like “Vertical Scrabble: the thinking man’s rock climbing” or “Underwater Calligraphy”, expect these and more at the London Olympics.


Some Illustrations & Doodling

November 17, 2009

I have recently created with my bare hands what some may call meaningless “doodles” (teehee doodles) or childish cartoons. however i would classify them as an amalgamation of sardonic Popular culture references and cartoons drawn with a Sharpie.


With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility.

November 10, 2009

Those of you who are personal friends of mine, and those who are stalking me, are probably aware that I recently broke my toe. I know what your thinking “with an injury that serious how are you still blogging and podcasting?” Well the reason is I have wolverine like healing powers (not to mention atamantium steel claws which protrude from my hands) that allow me to heal at a rate which would kill a mere mortal. I know the other question running through your head “how did it happen?” well it happened one stormy night, while fighting communism…I fell in the shower. I take the fight against communism seriously, unlike you just sitting there. I’m getting shit done and putting my body on the line.

This fatal injury got me thinking. Nearly all heroes gain their super powers through some kind of freak accident. Whether this is Peter Parker getting bitten by a genetically altered spider, which would probably kill anyone else. He gets super powers, or daredevil, who I’m pretty sure just went blind and then decided to become a super hero, come on disabled community take this man’s lead and also become handy capable super heroes! Through all of these terrible injuries these people managed to gain super powers, fight crime, super villains and wear spandex suits that leave nothing to the imagination. I intend to do all these.

So will my mortal wound lead me to a life of crime fighting? I vote yes! So far my super powers include the ability to:
•    Limp in a pathetic fashion around the house
•    Cry every time I need to put a shoe on
•    Complain
•    Walk EVEN slower then I used to

With these new powers comes a great responsibility, will I use them for good or evil? You should prey good.


The Downfall of Hamdy

November 5, 2009

As promised, the petition for us comedic legends to replace the haggered stumbling duo Hamish and Andy is here. If you think we deserve the airtime, please leave a comment with your name :).

Also, here’s an unrelated poll.


La Policia!!

November 1, 2009

(Translation: the police)

The police force of Australia seem to do a fine job, despite how crap any Australian police drama show is (city homicide…really?). Whether they are getting skate punks to conform to the rules, flexing their authoritative muscles to pick up ladies or having handlebar moustaches and wearing aviators while on a badass car chase, they generally keep the peace. However, whenever I’m around a police officer I always feel the same three emotions. Thankful that I don’t have to wear a uniform which makes me look fat and flustered, guilty that I have committed a crime I’m not aware of or wishing to show of the fact that I’m being so law abiding.

No matter where I’ am, whether its at the park, on a train or hiding a dead body. If I see a police officer I always feel just a little bit on edge. Now I have never committed any serious crimes, still whenever a man or lady of the law is near I get a fear, that perhaps I have a fight club style split personality that I’m unaware of who runs a meth lab in my closet and they’re coming to arrest me, damn that sexy Tyler Durden.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, the other strong feeling I get when I see the police. I feel a need to show of to them just how law abiding I’m being. Similar to the boy who wants to show his parents the new abstract crayon drawing he did or the teacher’s pet who so badly wants the teacher to know that he knows the answer to everything. Whenever the police are near I feel the need to say, “Do you want to see my train ticket? I bought one, just like the la says you should” or “hey, look who didn’t murder anyone today!”

Maybe these issues stem from a deep psychological trauma involving both the fear and paranoia of any authority figure. Or maybe I just watched too much Blue Heelers and so assume that the police are completely incompetent, low and British.