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DesDownunder

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Blog Entries posted by DesDownunder

  1. DesDownunder
    Writer?s Blog
    By DesDownUnder ?2008
    Blog?s can be really great fun to write.
    No pressure, no meaning to requite,
    No Pulitzer Prize to win
    Just meandering words,
    Fooling around in sin,
    Looking for pity, or worse.
    So why can?t I find a way to deflect
    The horrors of my day in some subject
    With electronic pen
    To write and please, of course,
    All those who come to spend,
    Some time, looking at my curse.
    Alone I sit watching an empty screen,
    Patiently waiting for those words unseen,
    Yet this cannot be so,
    Some word not to be first,
    From all those that I know,
    Not to start, a new verse.
    Lurking in the back of my blanked out mind,
    Are all those needed words I cannot find,
    As they hide and huddle
    ?Fraid of my writer?s blog
    I realise my trouble
    Is really writer?s block.
  2. DesDownunder
    We have our fair share of road rage. Nothing out of the ordinary, you understand, just the usual clubbing to near death with a tyre iron. Today I had the opportunity to witness a road rage event (sounds exciting doesn't it?) myself.
    I must explain, owing to the bloke who sets the timing for Adelaide's numerous traffic lights thinking that 3 seconds is sufficient to enable cars to move across an intersection, we end up with cars banking up for quite a while.
    The traffic today duly came to stop. The car alongside in the other lane screeched to halt as if he was late for an asshole anonymous meeting, with fists pounding on the steering wheel and then punching his dashboard. I couldn't tell what the dashboard had done wrong to receive such grievous blows from its owner. He gnashed his teeth at me as he gave me the finger. What had I done?
    I watched as the lights changed to green and the traffic slowly (its Adelaide) started to move when, the lights changed to red. I stopped my car as did everyone else, except the dashboard basher. He put his foot down, accelerating until he rammed the car in front. He had "lost it" and was patently venting his rage, without due care.
    Quickly he flew open his car door and then jumped onto the bonnet of his own car, bouncing up and down like an orangutan visiting a harem, shouting obscenities that could only be described as upsetting to the poor young lady in the car he had rammed. She wisely stayed inside her car.
    The lights changed and I had to drive off. The thing was he had done little damage to her four-wheel drive but his old sedan was steaming and looking quite crumpled if not upset.
    I watched from the rear view mirror as several people were attempting to restrain the man from his malicious wounding of his own vehicle.
    It was surreal to say the least.
  3. DesDownunder
    Are Blogs Draining? The title for this entry occurred to me whilst I was putting the finishing touches to my new short story soon to be released at a Codey's World near you. (don't hold your breath it needs editing yet.)
    It seemed to me that just maybe, blog writing may drain the creative impulses away from the writing of a good story, or a bad one for that matter.
    If we put in a lot effort in the short term to make sure our cute insightful blogs are fun, interesting or just plain readable, does that deplete our creative energy? Does it concentrate our resources into the blog when they should be going into our stories?
    On the other hand, yes I have two of them, does writing anything, even a blog keep the impetus to write, alive? Is there a line of demarcation one should watch, just to make sure that the literary prize is not being hi-jacked by some frivolous but clever blog remark?
    Are our darkest moments revealed in our blogs actually the stuff upon which our novella dreams thrive?
    So perhaps the blogs should be simple statements of fact devoid of creative writing.
    How can an author lower himself to do that? We write and must write as best we can.
    So if the blog bogs down the creative drain
    then the blog shall be first to block the bog
    and we authors will need to be plumbers
    to unblock the bogs of our minds so that
    the s**t can flow freely once again.
    Or am I missing the toilet paper here?
    Goodness me, after all that, I feel quite flushed.
  4. DesDownunder
    It is that time of the year in Adelaide, where the sun sets
    in a glorious spray of vivid gold and red colours
    that fluoresce the clouds to match the source of their brilliance.
    In the East a near full moon, almost too bright to behold
    is already visible in the pale grey sky soon to be
    the dark blue and black of night.
    The air is still, not even a breath a wind.
    The sky hangs it palest blues before they change
    to green and pinkish yellows as the sun disappears.
    Clouds float and change their clothing for the approaching night.
    The night air, not cold nor hot wraps its warmth around me.
    Stars arc the Earth's night sky as if watching us, watching them.
    And it is all reversed in the early morning as that magic
    that was West is now in the East and dawn matches twilight
    with the eerie silence of the sun's intensity. The night fades to day.
    The stars I watched for hours I can no longer see,
    but I know they are there.
    We call this our Indian Summer.
    Is it any wonder I do not sleep?
  5. DesDownunder

    Life's Journey

    By DesDownunder,

    I wonder if I should blog about all my worries?
    No, I better not, I could start a panic.
    Shall I put on a happy face and pretend that I am gay?
    Is it possible to pretend to be something that you actually are?
    I could pretend to be straight, but I doubt if anyone here would believe me.
    I'm sure I could fool the locals into thinking that I am straight, after all they have fooled themselves into thinking they aren't gay.
    Some of them even went and married a girl to prove it. Seems a bit drastic to me.
    What's worse of course is that in a moment of misguided enthusiasm they managed to get the poor girl pregnant and then a few months later she had to go through that labour intensive procedure of giving birth to the brat.
    Of course the brat turned out to be so cute that everyone oohed and aahed for a couple of weeks until it started to throw up on everybody's shoes.
    Still the child seems to have survived into the toddler stage, you know the one where it wanders around the house looking for somewhere to show its expertise at doing number two. This of course inspired the once house trained cat to remember that it too likes to leave territory markers wherever it goes. The canary in its cage decided to fling its droppings as far it could as well. The dog wasn't a problem. It was too busy licking its nuts.
    Unfortunately, the brat saw the dog and then tried to show the visiting church committee, his impersonation of being a doggy, growling and licking as best he could.
    And that is how the family came to hire an exorcist.
    It was all perfectly understandable. The child showed all the symptoms of possession. It vomited over everyone, it shat everywhere, and it had weird control over the beasts in the house. (When the the brat failed the self lick test, he was found letting the dog do it for him, which of course caused him to laugh with demonic fervour. It didn't help that his grandmother was the one who found the quite excited dog with the boy.)
    So early on a Sunday morning the exorcist arrived in full regalia armed with crucifix and holy water.
    The brat ran and hid in the dog kennel, while the dog stood guard at the entrance, with snarling teeth, saliva foaming and dribbling on to the ground where it solidified into flaming thorns from Hell. (Well not really, but I thought it was a nice image.)
    No one could get the brat to come out of the kennel. The parents left food which the dog took into the child. Some years later, when puberty struck the child with all its power, the boy drove out the demon and left the kennel.
    He immediately went to highschool where he was known as demon-boy, but it was too late. In the kennel he had already worked out that civilisation was f'd, and no amount of indoctrination, er I mean education, could affect the now teenage youth.
    He moved into a cave in the foothills just outside the city limits with the High school star footballer who had fallen in love with him.
    The lads' fathers were aghast, not at the boys, but at each other when they met outside the cave. They too fell instantly in love with each other, but that and their divorces is another story.
    Meanwhile the two youths in the cave were busy practising peace and lovin'.
    All of which goes to show that you don't need Television, the Internet, a fast car, an ipod, an education, or anything else except love, to to find happiness on your life's journey from the kennel to the cave.

  6. DesDownunder
    Here is where the quote came from:
    Sanson: ...................Why are you poets so fascinated with madmen?
    Cervantes:................We have much in common.
    Sanson: ...................You both turn your backs on life?
    Cervantes.................We both select from life!
    Sanson:...................A man has to come to terms with life as it is.
    Cervantes:

    Life as it is.
    I have lived for over forty years, and I've seen...
    life as it is.
    Pain...
    misery...
    cruelty beyond belief.
    I've heard all the voices of God's noblest creature.
    Moans from bundles of filth in the street.
    I've been a soldier and a slave.
    I've seen my comrades fall in battle...
    or die more slowly under the lash in Africa.
    I've held them at the last moment.
    These were men who saw life as it is.
    Yet they died despairing.
    No glory, no brave last words.
    Only their eyes, filled with confusion...
    questioning why.
    I do not think they were asking why they were dying...
    but why they had ever lived.
    When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?
    Perhaps to be too practical is madness.
    To surrender dreams, this may be madness.
    To seek treasure where there is only trash...
    too much sanity may be madness!
    And maddest of all...
    to see life as it is and not as it should be! from, Man of la Mancha. Film script.
    http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts...transcript.html
    For Man of la Mancha history of the playmusical see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Man_of_La_Mancha
    So you might think because the exact quote I used is not in these words, that I cheated. Yet I am not happy to claim the quote as my own, the sentiment is just so obviously what is behind the above speech.
    Thus I wrote:
    Madness is to believe that only reality is sanity
    Furthermore;
    To make it your quest, for life to be as it should be, is not an impossible dream.
    So I default because of my little subterfuge and you are all winners, everyone of you.
    But I think Rad Steven saw through it first.
    Your prize is waiting for you at my hosted page at Codey?s World, the next chapters of the Doors of Love.
    Don?t worry I won?t be sleeping alone.
  7. DesDownunder
    Whatever must you all be thinking of me? I mean it is 12 days since my last blog entry.
    So to catch up, my ribs a re much better, thanks. I have a short story in editing stage and I have a new computer operating without Vista.
    I think I might have a new poem coming on, but these things can be elusive.
    I know I had worked out the opening lines just before I fell asleep last night, but I can't remember a thing about them today, but it was a great idea and I'm sure it revealed several fascinating details about the human condition.
    Talking about the human condition I always feel it should be available at the supermarket on the shelf alongside the human shampoo.
    Our local supermarket probably wouldn't stock it though, as it is run by homophobic moron managers.
    A wonderful, efficient, cheerful and intelligent young man in his early twenties has been the life of the checkouts, ever since he came to work with his hair spiked in the shape of Roman Centurion helmut.
    I of course mentioned to him how much I envied his black spiky hairdo and told him I would have something similar (but in red) if I still had all my hair. He laugh flirtatiously with me and always smiles when he sees me.
    I guess we both pretty much guessed we had a common desire in men's hairstyles, if you get my meaning?
    Anyway a couple of weeks ago he was checking me out, or was I checking him out? No he was checking out my groceries...Oh dear that sounds kinky doesn't it?
    A couple of weeks ago he was scanning my goods...errr, registering my prices, ringing up my items?
    I was at the checkout counter with my purchases when I noticed he had blonded the spikes of his hair, but left the sides of his hair jet black. It suited his dark features and I complimented him on the hair style.
    "The boss doesn't like it," he told me, "I have to have it normal by Monday or they will fire me."
    "That's outrageous," I said, "An invasion of your personal self expression."
    "That's what the union said," he said to me, "so they are going to talk to management tomorrow."
    "Well if you need someone to say they are happy with your work, I am willing to stand by you." I told him. He thanked me.
    Of course I would have been willing to stand, sit, kneel or lay down by him, but I didn't say so. I didn't want to scare the poor boy. I thought he was probably already stressed out enough.
    He thanked me again, as I gathered up the scanned goods and departed with spiky images stored for late night fantasies at my house.
    A few days later I saw him again and he said that management wasn't pleased but the union had made it clear, his hair style was not to be subject of his performance...as a checkout operator. He thought they would try to get him to resign though.
    A few more days passed and I had to go back to the supermarket for some more stuff, I swear I spend half my life there, when I realized I hadn't seen the spiky-haired one, lately.
    So I asked the friendly but not so cute tubby checkout guy where he was. Now this youngish, but not terribly bright fellow looked to his left, then to his right, then leaning across the counter as he slowly confided to me, "They wanted to fire him, because of his hair, but the union wouldn't let them because his hair is an expression of his h-o-m-o-sex-u-ality."
    "Quite right too," I said, working overtime to keep as straight a face as I could, "None of their business."
    "Yes," he said, "It shouldn't make a difference as long as he does his work."
    Today I learned the spiked hairdo has left for a job in another supermarket some miles away.
    I will miss getting my goods checked out by him.
    The supermarket management is badly in need of some humane conditioning.
    I hope my spiky-haired checkout guy is happier with his new job.
    I am sure his new employer will be satisfied with his work.
  8. DesDownunder
    So I have sent in my contributions to the AwesomeDude Fools Call.
    Then discovered I had sent a wrong file.
    Replaced the file, then discovered several typos that evaded my detection during the numerous proofing sessions. Yikes!
    If you want to find all the errors, typos, misdemeanors, and assorted illiteracies in you story, nothing is of more assistance than posting it where the rest of the world can see it.
    Oh, the shame of it all.
    A friend of mine says he proofs by reading his work backwards???
    I find it helps if you have a sleep, then proof it by setting the viewing screen larger so the fonts seem larger.
    The trouble with proofing is that as I am also the author I keep finding little embellishments or sub-subplots to add or alter.
    So I guess the answer is to offer a prize to readers who pick up any faults or errors.
    I think I will offer to sleep with anyone pointing out errors in my work; In my case that should stop any criticism at all.
  9. DesDownunder

    65. Hot Aussies

    By DesDownunder,

    It's official folks, Adelaide in the state of South Australia has endured its longest heat wave on record.
    Generally a heat wave is considered to be the number of days with the temperature reaching or exceeding 100 ?F or 37.8 ?C.
    Well, we just had 15 days over 35 ?C and believe me that was hot enough. I had to drive 22 Kilometres each day in a car with no air conditioning. I had a wet towel around my neck to survive. Yesterday I broke out into heat rash, but it has subsided with today's cooler weather.
    What was the world's longest heat wave?
    The record for the world's longest heat wave goes to Marble Bar in Western Australia. From October 31, 1923 to April 07, 1924 the temperature broke the 100 ?F mark setting the heat wave record at a scorching 160 days.
    Where is the hottest place on Earth? Temperature records from weather stations give that distinction to El Azizia, Libya, which hit a sweltering 57.8 degrees Celsius (136 F) on September 13, 1922, but there have likely been hotter locations beyond the scattered network of weather stations. (such as my bedroom in 1963 -1971.)
    Now if any of you kewl dudes want to come down here and help cool me down, please understand if I don't want to cuddle.

  10. DesDownunder
    Recently I fell into that awful trap of missing out on a daily shower.
    This sometimes happens to techie types.
    A quick sponge-over was all I could manage.
    The next day as I prepared for my shower, I looked aghast at my pubic hair.
    It had lost its curl.
    The short and curlies were long and laying quite flat.
    Perplexed and not a little unconcerned, I proceeded with the bathing ritual, showering with as much gay abandon as I could.
    After my shower I looked once more at the offending hairs only to notice that the curls had returned in all their glory.
    Once more I could be known as afro groin, or should that be aphro groin?
    Still I cannot help but wonder if I gave up showering, would the rest of me become straight too?
    Don't tell Fred Phelps
    He might picket the showers.

  11. DesDownunder

    Hopeless

    By DesDownunder,

    Pecman posed a (perhaps rhetorical) question in the News and Views Forum on the loss of two young people through suicide.
    I have no argument with Pecman's post, but I did not want to make the following statement in the News and Views Forum because it might be taken that I was chastising Pecman, which I certainly am not. What I do have to say is somewhat a personal statement, but one I would like to share with you from the relative safety of posting it as an opinion in my blog. Of course you may wish to respond, and consider yourself invited to do so. Personal flames will be deleted. Be warned this is not going to be everyone's opinion.
    Pecman's original post is here, and well worth reading. My heart goes out to him for his concern.
    Quote Pecman:
    It is so easy to say, "yes it is," but it is not just the bullying of the young that invites such a response.
    At any moment of our existence, we are in a state of confusion, torn between serving our desire to live loving lives, and fulfilling the social roles imposed on us by our various cultures. Enlightenment can be defined as overcoming one's culture, but that in itself is probably a lifetime occupation.
    Blinded by the pressures to conform, we so often do not see that those demands are challenged by our natural desire for peace and love.
    We allow ourselves to be swayed by all kinds of doctrine to believe that aggression and avarice are the natural states of human existence.
    Those young people, who are exposed to such doctrine, often see no alternative other than to side-step adopting it as their own, by opting out.
    They are not yet able to accept that life is a battle, a quest to affirm goodness; they do not yet have the capacity to withstand the onslaught of those who have been persuaded to preach that love and goodness are illusions and that life is about cruelly taking whatever you want for yourself at the expense of others. They are overcome by the feeling that they cannot and will not participate in the hopelessness, in the horror they perceive around them. This is particularly so in the young people (11 years old in the article.)
    These sensitive souls are the very ones we cannot afford to lose. They are but a few moments of living away from being able to say. "I love life; I will do all that I can to live fully and completely without harming others. I will do all that I can to fulfil my humanity, I say yes to life!"
    But they are deterred from developing this inner-strength of human love, of recognising the power of the goodness of life in themselves, because they have been subjected to, attacked and bullied by, those who have submitted to the doctrines of hate, negativity, guilt and fear.
    These young people are denied their natural inclination to access the discovery of truth and beauty, all in the name of subservience to their culture's rules and beliefs in some kind of external salvation.
    Love is within, it resides within us. It is not given to us, it is what we are, unless it is taken from us; and too often love is forcibly removed from us, by denouncing it as wicked and that it somehow makes us unworthy, immoral and all sorts of other imperfections. We are made to feel guilty for being creatures of love, when in fact we should be rejoicing the goodness of our love and its expression.
    Too often do those, who have submitted to being negative about life, try to force their negativity on others. Too often, love is discriminated against by the forces of fear and guilt. And too often is love strangled in the hands of the bully, just so he feels justified in his denial of accepting his capacity to love. He does not understand it is his own love that he kills.
    But a young person just coming to terms with puberty, mystified by developing emotions, discovering the potential for his own capacity to love, will come to think that in the face of all the hypocrisy which abounds in his culture, of all the tragedy which seems to surround life, in the face of his time and time again being denied his own human existence, that it is just easier to escape from a world in which he feels alienated, which is just too much to bear on his own.
    Sometimes he will find someone his own age to assist their common survival, sometimes lovingly, sometimes not.
    I have at times been asked what a young person gets from a relationship with an older person, because as far as can be seen it seems that only the older person gets something from such a relationship. That may seem true, but only if we consider it in terms of sexual gratification. Certainly there is that horrifying molestation of the young that must rightfully be condemned, but it should not be confused with the transmission of the lust for life that an older person can give a younger.
    Such a relationship can give the younger a model of hope, of what love really is, as opposed to just sexual urges. The love of an older for a younger person recognises the glamour of life (as Oscar Wilde called it) in the younger person, it encourages the celebration of life and it shows love as being the reason for sexual expression, rather than the way far too many people think of it today, as sex being the motivation for love.
    And no this last statement is not an attempt to justify paedophilia. Sexual relationships before puberty is completed, is definitely not part of this argument. Paedophilia is the negative, the abusive aspect of sexual expression between an older and a younger person.
    However, just as destructive is the doctrine of hate which teaches the young and often the very young, to live in fear, with guilt and to deny love by denying the inherent goodness in humanity.
    A loving relationship between an older and a younger person can reverse this hate, this denial of life and replace it with loving goodness and therefore lead the young person to exclaim, yes to life.
    To quote Oscar Wilde from the dock during his first criminal trial:
    [?]It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an elder and a younger man, when the elder man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so the world does not understand. The world mocks it and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.
    It is important to understand that many people have imposed a non-sexual interpretation on this speech that any student of Greek Love would patently deny. Wilde was quite clearly defending his love of youth as being worthy, both in the intellectual and physical senses.
    Of course, the parallel argument for heterosexual love between a younger person and an older person of opposite sex also holds true, but in practice this has been an instruction in heterosexual sex rather than the noble-minded values described by Wilde. Still I have no doubt the argument is valid regardless of gender. (I also have no doubt that humanity is sexually omnifarious, eventually succumbing to availability and habit, even if influenced by genetic propensity or cultural expectations, which of course cause further problems.)
    Rites of passage through loving relationships of differently aged lovers, is part of the human experience, and I would maintain a necessary one if the young are not to find life as hopeless as it sometimes seems.
    In historic cultures, both civilised and primitive, and in classical literature such relationships were understood and revered. Then came the puritan dark ages which still influence us today and we wonder why we feel hopeless.
  12. DesDownunder
    Firstly I offer my condolences, respect and tears for the loss of Heath Ledger, a great bloke and a fine actor.
    That anyone, especially a man professing to be a man of God, should ridicule a man at his death for not fitting in with their concepts of religion is to me down right abhorrent. To claim knowledge that the dead person is now in Hell is irrational, illogical and deplorable.
    Who would do such a thing? Fred Phelps, who else? See the link that TR has provided here
    Fred claims to have knowledge that Heath is in Hell, complete with flames.
    During all this, Phelps also claims that Australia is a land of sodomites.
    Then we have Trab's illuminating report here that Aussies are being warned to steer clear of Canada because,
    "An Australian government website lists Canada as a country where travellers need to be cautious about terrorism, dangerous winter driving and cold weather conditions."
    Obviously the government thought because it is too cold for us practise sodomy in such weather or while driving the car, that it would be terrible for us.
    On behalf of the Australian people I would make it known that we do not concur with any ideas that Canada is so dangerous as to warrant such a statement.
    Some Australia Day this is turning out to be.
    oh yes I suppose I should tell you that January 26th is our National (booze up) Australia Day.
    Similar to our US friend's July the 4th, except we drink more than they do.
    In the light of Fred Phelps' sodomite claims, I am wondering if he got it mixed up with our national food, Vegemite?
    Just what does Fred put on his sandwiches? Inquiring minds want to know in case his mentality is diet related.
    Fred also has a go at "Faggy England" but I will leave that for Camy to comment on.
    I am asking our Government agencies that they quickly offer apologies to our Canadian brothers and sisters for any insinuation that they are are mad terrorists hellbent on killing the touring sodomites from Australia.
    I will tell them we should offer package holidays to Canadians who would like to see our national sodomy games, perhaps even take part in them.
    You will know when you have met an Australian because we always greet people by saying "G'Day"
    short for "Gay Day". Some people have thought G'day was short for a welcoming, "Good Day"
    But no. It is actually short for Gay Day, and we always say it before we sodomise anyone.
    G'day, mate?
    Which also explains why we call each other "mate."
    Australia, land of the sodomites. I guess that explains our low birth rate.
    Australia, Land of the Sodomites, we live in hope, I wish.
    It's a wonder Fred didn't claim that Australia sucks.
    And we are very good at that too.
  13. DesDownunder

    (49) Unwasted Youth

    By DesDownunder,

    Warning: Commercial Break:
    I posted a poem today in the Poetry Nook at Codey's World.
    It is called Unwasted Youth < click here
    Do let me know what you think.
    We now return you to the abnormal blog of DesDownUnder
    I'm still gay... and luvin' it.
  14. DesDownunder
    Hi everyone,
    I finished this story a few weeks ago. Blue has since edited it for me and posted it in my hosted pages at Codey's World. It was supposed to be a contribution to the "Back to School" collection at Codey's World, but the computer crashed and had to be replaced, thus holding up the story's completion.
    With Codey being in such ill health I forgot I promised him I would put a notice here to let you all know about it.
    So I will rectify that now, here is the link:
    The Best Memories Of Their Lives
    My heart is not really in this story at the moment, but I thought it might take my mind off things if I prattle on a bit.
    This is a bit of a different story for me. It is not so much a comedy but has a kind of black humour about it.
    I have drawn from my real life experiences for many of the "memories" and then crazily mixed up the fiction with the real so that the incidents themselves are not as autobiographical as you might think, and yet some of them are.
    Perhaps you would like to guess:
    1. Which of these incidents in the story are not based on an actual experience?
    2. Which characters are pure fiction?
    If there is sufficient interest I will reveal all, some time down the track.

    All comments welcome (flames will be loved with much laughter).
    Come to think of it why do I never get flamed? I must try harder.
  15. DesDownunder
    So what is it like to be 3x21?
    What can be said that will give hope that there is life after 30?
    Is there a moment in life where it all comes together?
    Well lets put it this way, I ain't saying because I don't want to depress the young amongst you.
    Joke for ppl who have had too many birthdays:
    Stop me if you have heard it.
    Why are young people so beautiful and pretty and lovely to look at?
    So that old people will talk to them whilst waiting for them to grow the F*** up.
    Okay so that wasn't very nice. Anyone who wants to whip me for my indiscretions please form two lines, one at my front and one at my back.
  16. DesDownunder

    Aussie xmas greeting

    By DesDownunder,

    ɹǝpunuʍopsǝp ɯoɹɟ
    sɐɯʇsıɹɥɔ ʎɹɹǝɯ
    You can all thank Trab for finally being able to read what I write without standing on your heads.
    This week the car's water-pump decided to spring a leak.
    The car has proven to be a source of great amusement.
    If you hear a story of an Aussie man who took an axe to his car and chopped it up into environmentally friendly pieces, that would be me.
    Oh and the tail light fell off too.
    I think I'll get the chainsaw out.
    And please checkout Graeme's Aussie Christmas message at http://www.awesomedude.com/adboard/index.php?showtopic=2758

  17. DesDownunder
    I don't understand it. I am snowed under with work galore.
    I have a dozen things to do all by tomorrow or next Thursday.
    I have just made a snack and sit down at the computer to read and eat,
    when without warning a phrase goes pop, into my head.
    I have to write that down.
    Fifteen minutes later I have a poem.
    A wretched silly poem!
    I also have a cold bowl of rice with hot-sauce,
    and none of my work even started.
    An hour later I am happy with the tweaking of said poem,
    but realise that some people are not going to cope with it at all.
    Why me? Why did the muse attack me at this time?
    Why was I selected to bring this vision to fruition?
    Did everyone else turn it down?
    That must be it.
    I got the left-overs.
    Everyone else had the good sense to not get involved in such a poetic travesty.
    Not me though, oh no.
    I had to go and let myself be used by the dark side to write and post the poem.
    I should have signed it as Darth Downunder. No too obvious.
    A poem for bedtime...
    "Safe As Houses" now at Codey's World

  18. DesDownunder
    After ten minutes of writing and weeks of adjusting the words, I am pleased to
    announce that my new series, Doors of Love, based on my blog entries of the
    same title, has begun at my hosted pages at Codey's World.
    Chapters 1 and 2 are pretty much as they were posted in my blog.
    This week chapter 3 is up and is little more than a short bridging scene to the
    new story which begins properly (or improperly if you like) in chapter 4 due next week.
    There are 7 chapters in all and it is completed waiting only for my editor Blue to find time to work his magic.
    Please share your reactions with me. I love to know how you liked/loathed it.
    Open the Doors of Love
  19. DesDownunder
    So there I am bored off my face waiting for a customer to come in to our video store. It's my partner's store really, I just give him coffee breaks.
    Finally a middle aged woman comes in, briskly walking to to the counter.
    "Hi," says I.
    "I am after a video.' she says.
    "We have those.'" I say.
    She looks at me quizzically, but decides to press on, giving my sanity the benefit of her doubt.
    "It's a special video," she announces.
    "You're in the right place. All our videos are special." I tell her.
    Her eyes widen. "It has Michael Caine in it."
    I look at her blankly.
    "And Sean Connery." she adds.
    "I want to hire, "The Man Who Would Be King." she says.
    "I want the man who would be a Queen," I say.
    She waits a moment, raises her left eyebrow with disdain and asks, "This is not a Blockbuster store is it?"
    "No it isn't and they don't have the movie," I tell her as I pull the DVD off the shelf and hand it to her.
    "Oh you have it." she says , looking at the cover.
    "So I have been told." say I.
    "How much is it?' she asks.
    "I don't charge," I tell her, "Oh you mean the movie? To buy or rent?"
    "To rent." she says but I am not a member here.
    "Well you have to join up to rent it." I say.
    "I'm a member at Blockbuster." She says.
    "I guessed that." I say, "You will need to fill out the application form. Do You have your driver's licence for identification?"
    "Yes," she says.
    "We will need a cheque for ten thousand dollars along with your details of tonight's dinner menu."
    She looks at me, then bursts out laughing hysterically, just as my partner returns from his coffee break.
    He takes over, looking daggers at me.
    He is much quicker at this sort of thing than I am.
  20. DesDownunder
    I hate to say I told you so, but I didn't did I?
    I never actually said it out loud. So I will say it now.
    The current practise of looking for someone to blame
    instead of seeking to solve problems is going to cause
    the downfall of our society.
    There I said it.
    What brought this on you may well ask, and I will tell you
    because I want you to know, and I am sure you want to know, too, now.
    I have suffered under numerous bureaucrats, managers and
    other legal obsessed individuals in positions of power in the
    workplace to see that they all, were totally unaware of the principle
    of trust in others, mostly because they had never considered
    anything other than their own failings of which their greed and ambition
    were high priorities.
    Assumption of the worst in mankind begets exactly that and more.
    Treat people like idiots and you will encourage idiocy.
    Treat people like automatons and you will get robots.
    Treat people like loving caring, humane individuals and
    you just might support someone who makes life worthwhile.
    At the moment I am reeling under the influence of computer
    stupidity. The Vista operating system engineers have taken the easy way out of
    the security issue by forcing their concepts of doing useful work.
    Like the Nazi, legal, bureaucrats referred to above, the computer software
    designers have no idea of the requirements of human endeavour
    and creativity.
    Bounded by their own mediocrity and "intelligent backsides", we find ourselves
    having to cope with inadequate solutions to very real problems.
    When will these people realise that human beings need freedom as individuals
    to create, work and even simply have fun?
    So what can we do?
    I wish I knew. In fact I have a pretty good idea of what we can do, but apart from that,
    we can all help by letting them know that we are like Peter Finch in the movie
    "Network," when he said:
    "I am as a mad as Hell and I'm just not going to take it anymore."
    Go on, go over to the window and yell it to whomever is listening.
    Better still go out the front door, into the street and shout it as loudly as you can.
    It will make you feel better.
    Then send out an invitation to Microsoft and Apple and anyone else you know of their ilk
    to join us in a "Love-in."
    These people need Love. Lots of it too, I would guess at a pinch.
    These people have become dickheads, because they have forgotten how to
    masturbate and so play with their braincell instead, probably because it is bigger.
    We need to organise a mass demonstration of how trust can make a difference.
    Put all these computer nerds in one big room without any clothes and see if they
    can come up with any solutions...
    We should show them the greatest achievements of the human race have come
    from individuals who have been encouraged by both adversity and inspiration, but never by
    deprivation of their ability to be creative.
    Computers are great tools with a promise of extending human abilities but not in the form that Vista takes.
    I did tell you I don't like Vista didn't I?

  21. DesDownunder

    (11) My turn

    By DesDownunder,

    First the computer plays up, now I feel like a zac's (5 cents) worth of shit.
    Actually a Zac was a threepenny piece in the old days before decimal currency.
    Yep, Australia had a silver coin worth three pennies. (I told you, we were a bit strange.)
    It was about 5/16 inch that's 8mm in diameter. That's the size of the coin people. (Jeez, I can't say anything can I?
    We used to lose them all the time. I almost lost as many of those coins as the number of times my partners thought I lost my virginity. (It was the 1960s after all. We didn't have much else to do back then.)
    Anyway I think I have some flu bug or something. Wait, I feel better since I logged into the web.
    Must be the Awesome powers of the Dude.
    Tune into my next entry when I will reveal the secrets of my experience with a farthing. A what?
    Check out the great stories in A Writer's Challenge at the Codey's World Forum
    All entries are now in and awaiting your vote.
    Ronyx has posted chapter 9 of The Mask at The Mustard Jar
    Do read it and email him with your thoughts.
    In fact don't forget that all the authors really like to hear from their readers.
    It only takes a moment do. Come on do it now. Hit the comment button and let me know how much you love me. You don't love me? ok ,tell me that too.
  22. DesDownunder
    69 is not my age , I ain't that old ...yet!
    Well here we are at the 69th blog entry. 69 I guess it will have to be a double entry ey?
    ?ʎǝ ʎɹʇuǝ ǝlqnop ɐ ǝq oʇ ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇı ssǝnƃ I 96 ˙ʎɹʇuǝ ƃolq ɥʇ96 ǝɥʇ ʇɐ ǝɹɐ ǝʍ ǝɹǝɥ llǝʍ
    I can hardly believe how cold it has become. A month ago I was sitting here naked in oppressive heat and now my extremities are frozen. Oh and that is with clothes in case you are wondering. which I hope you were and no doubt weren't.
    Soixante-neuf Warning XXX.
    Of course if you are 69-ing you can get hot for a while. On the other-hand, which takes some working out when you 69, whose hand is that? Am I upside down or am I downunder? If I wasn't in Australia would I be downunder or up-over. 69-ing is so confusing. I don't know what has come over me, oh wait a minute, yes I do.
    And then you are cold again, and wet. I wonder if the hot water is working I could have a spa. Can you 69 in the spa bath? Will the bubbles get up my nose? Will the jets of water bubble up and drown me in a sea of foaming water? Should I get a snorkel? You have one? Built in you say? Kewl!
    Wanna play submarines? Torpedoes away. Firing number 2, loading number 3.
    Will I see men in the reflection on the bathroom mirrors, or will they be fogged up?
    Something will get fogged up I suppose. I should get a fog-horn. What flavour soap is this? It is quite tasty.
    Now for the warm fluffy towels and the cosy wrap of the muscly arms. The breath of love and the damn alarm, just as I was about to dream of
    You
    ǝɯ
    sigh,
  23. DesDownunder
    "Hold still," said the doctor, "It is just a little prick."
    "Not from what I have heard," I told him.
    "Oh, and what have you heard?" he said with menace in his eyes as he waved the needle in his hand.
    I thought better than to antagonize the poor man, after all he was nearly as old as me.
    "Have you had your flu injection?" I asked.
    "Yes I have," he responded, "so I know how small a prick it is. But this isn't your flu injection. You had that last month. This one is your pneumonia shot and is even smaller."
    And with that he jabbed the needle into my arm, squeezed the plunger and muttered the standard physician's "ah hmm."
    "What does that mean?" I asked, "Did the needle break off in my arm? Did you miss the mark? Is it the wrong injection? How long have I got left?"
    "Not long at all if you don't be quiet," he grinned, his teeth snarling as he inspected the remains of the syringe.
    "Why can't these things come in a pill or a capsule? I'm very good at swallowing," I said.
    The good doctor rolled his eyes and then looked at me with mischief in both eyes. "You mean you can shut your mouth long enough to swallow?"
    "Oh I can swallow with my mouth open." I said.
    He looked vanquished as he replied, " I should have seen that one coming."
    "I usually can," I offered helpfully.
    "I'm sure you can."
    He placed a band-aid on my arm.
    "There that will probably be sore tomorrow, but at least you have some protection now."
    "So I don't need to wear a condom anymore?" I asked.
    "Only if you know the prick hasn't been infected," he roared with laughter as he opened the door to show me out.
    "Pay the nurse on the way out," he said still chuckling.
    "Oh," I said, "That would be for the money shot, then?"
    "Your scaring the other patients," he said as he shut the door.
    "All fixed?" asked the nurse as I paid her.
    "All depends what you mean by "fixed," I said as I left.
    Going to the doctors is so much fun.
  24. DesDownunder
    As strange as it will seem to our Northern siblings, today is the first day of spring in Australia.
    This is due to the tilt of the Earth's orbit and axis, (which, despite those who think otherwise is not part of an axis of evil), bringing the Southern Hemisphere to a greater exposure to the Sun.
    Walking in space, this can be clearly be seen and is a wonderful site.
    To walk in space by the way all you have to do is close your eyes and step off the edge of the world.
    This also should provide you with the knowledge that any axis of evil is all in the minds of certain politicians who only see evil wherever they look.
    Springtime in Australia has no relationship to Springtime for Hitler, talking about Axis of evil.
    Our own evil obsessed politicians are to be voted upon in a forth coming election and the good people of Australia are intent on trying to work out the lesser of those evils to elect to power. Power of course is usually just one axis of evil after another.
    Today however, the sun is shining and the birds are singing. The young men are trying on their bathing costumes and the rest of us are having evil thoughts about that.
    Tanning shops are selling tans at horrendously evil prices for those who don't have enough time to bath in the sun for a natural tan, owing to the fact that they all have evil jobs that make them work till after sundown, but at least they have the money to pay for the tan.
    Spring carnivals, we call them "Royal Shows," are being prepared in every state. Sales of candy floss (would you believe we call it "Fairy floss") along with rancid hot dogs in mouldy bread left over from last week's football games will be sold at evilly obscene prices, along with meat pies covered in sauce or sitting in a bowl of pea soup which we call a "pie floater."
    The Royal Shows have what we call side shows with really evil rides that usually end up being quite unsafe. It is a good idea to not stand near these rides as the riders sometimes vomit up the aforementioned hot dogs or pies, or both, and it flies out all over the bystanders in the crowd. Luckily it usually rains in the afternoons and washes people clean as they head home with an evil head cold.
    Spring also sets young people to fancy evil thoughts about what they would like to do to each other and thankfully for them, they usually manage to succeed in have a fun time doing it. Older people of course are obsessed with stopping them from having such fun, simply because they have forgotten how to have it themselves, or so the young think.
    Anyway I will leave you to ponder the evil joys of Springtime in OZ as you Northerners head into Autumn - Fall before the evils of Winter over take you and Summer burns the hell out of us downunder.
    What a wonderful World!

  25. DesDownunder
    I opened my email and there was an email from a reader who told me he enjoyed reading one of my stories.
    Hallelujah!
    Apart from my beloved co-inhabitants at Codey's World and Awesome Dude, that means I now have two readers who sufficiently liked my story to email me.
    (dances merrily around the room.)

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