There was a great comment the other day on Andrew Bartletts blog that, for me, sums up the stupidity and the hatred of todays lefties. Andrew has been on a trip overseas which included Turkey. He wrote a nice little story about Gallipoli in which he included the famous words of Ataturk regarding Australian soldiers still lying, buried, at Gallipoli:
"you, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land, they have become our sons as well."
Nice words eh? I've got to admit they are quite moving really. Then in the comments we get quickly slapped back to the reality of a leftist blog. Some barking moonbat says:
"Can't help but think of the difference in attitude between Ataturk and our PM: Ataturk welcomed into the 'bosom' of Turkey the thousands of men who arrived in boats to kill his countrymen and capture their land ..."
I nearly snorted coffee out my nose.
I can see the scene now. ANZACS arriving in their boats with Ataturk standing at the top of the cove with a beer in one hand and the BBQ tongs in the other calling "Welcome mates, grab a coldie on your way up the hill". NOT.
No matter what the story, somehow to the leftist peanut brains, it is always a demonstration of the inherrent evil of Little Johnny Ratus hoWARd.
I'll explain it for you. The people he welcomed into the bosom of Turkey were THE DEAD ONES HE HAD SHOT THE SHIT OUT OF.
Fucking idiots!
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Where do I collect my Ten Grand?
Have a go at this.
Some plonker gets turpsed at work to the point of pissing in his bin, and somehow his employer has to cough up $10,000 for sacking him? What the?
I've never admitted this before folks, but, once I did the same thing. Now I want my money.
It was 1993 and I was touring with blues legend Albert Collins.
The master of the telecaster, Albert Collins.
The last night of the tour was at Balmain RSL and was huge. We couldn't load out that night & that usually means hitting the turps in a big way. Well, I must admit to having one or two refreshing ales that night and ended up back at the hotel quite maggoted. In a startling replay of that famous "one day you're gunna get caught with your pants down" advertisement, I got up in the middle of the night for a slash. To say I was still under the influence and slightly dissoriented would be an understatment. I managed to open the wrong door and locked myself out of the room, drunk as a skunk, busting for a piss and only dressed in my undies. I tried banging on the door to wake up my youngest brother who I was sharing the room with, but to no avail so off I staggered along the hall looking for a toilet. No toilets anywhere but what about this convenient bin? It was probably the longest piss of my life. I think I went close to filling it.
Now I had to try and get back into my room as being found asleep in the hallway next to a bin full of piss would not be good. I knocked and banged continuously for about 5 minutes when I managed to wake my other brother in the next room. "What the fuck are you doing?" he yelled.
"7$!@$&nhq8&%@)!!" I replied as I collapsed onto the spare bed.
The loadout the next morning was a very slow one indeed.
Cross posted at Gibbos War Stories
Some plonker gets turpsed at work to the point of pissing in his bin, and somehow his employer has to cough up $10,000 for sacking him? What the?
I've never admitted this before folks, but, once I did the same thing. Now I want my money.
It was 1993 and I was touring with blues legend Albert Collins.
The master of the telecaster, Albert Collins.
The last night of the tour was at Balmain RSL and was huge. We couldn't load out that night & that usually means hitting the turps in a big way. Well, I must admit to having one or two refreshing ales that night and ended up back at the hotel quite maggoted. In a startling replay of that famous "one day you're gunna get caught with your pants down" advertisement, I got up in the middle of the night for a slash. To say I was still under the influence and slightly dissoriented would be an understatment. I managed to open the wrong door and locked myself out of the room, drunk as a skunk, busting for a piss and only dressed in my undies. I tried banging on the door to wake up my youngest brother who I was sharing the room with, but to no avail so off I staggered along the hall looking for a toilet. No toilets anywhere but what about this convenient bin? It was probably the longest piss of my life. I think I went close to filling it.
Now I had to try and get back into my room as being found asleep in the hallway next to a bin full of piss would not be good. I knocked and banged continuously for about 5 minutes when I managed to wake my other brother in the next room. "What the fuck are you doing?" he yelled.
"7$!@$&nhq8&%@)!!" I replied as I collapsed onto the spare bed.
The loadout the next morning was a very slow one indeed.
Cross posted at Gibbos War Stories
Monday, October 17, 2005
Shove your oil up your bum Mr OPEC
Ever the greenie(practical greenie not political greenie that is), Gibbo has just invested in a new mode of transport destined to leave Mr Opec and his highly priced consumables behind.
Behold...the electric pushbike!
Yes I've strapped a motor onto the old pushy to help drag my fat guts up some of the bigger hills between work & my place and it's tops. The only oil it uses is a few drops on the chain too. She's a beauty eh?
I built a vegie garden on the weekend too. Shit, next I'll be wearing Che T-Shirts!
Behold...the electric pushbike!
Yes I've strapped a motor onto the old pushy to help drag my fat guts up some of the bigger hills between work & my place and it's tops. The only oil it uses is a few drops on the chain too. She's a beauty eh?
I built a vegie garden on the weekend too. Shit, next I'll be wearing Che T-Shirts!
Monday, October 10, 2005
Roadtrip whoohooo!
I went to Bathurst races on the weekend for the first time ever. I tell you what, I'll be back. We had a ball.
We left after work on Friday night & had a nice, uneventful trip up the mountains. A couple of hours later we were in the Knickerbocker Hotel, Bathurst drinking beer and bopping to the band. For some bizzare reason they shut far too early and kicked us all out. No worries, we just headed to the track. First stop was the main straight for a couple of piccies.
Pete & Brian at the finish line.
The next problem was finding somewhere dry to sleep. A tarp, two fold up chairs and three golf umbrellas later, viola! Lets drink bourbon.
The Bathurst Hilton.
After a very brief pause for sleep we headed off to claim a spot.
Brian & Pete trying to look sober.
We ended up with a top spot right at the first corner so we could see most of the main straight and up mountain straight. Lucky we got there early though, the joint packs out that's for sure.
Brian & Pete not bothering to try and look sober.
The crowd has apparently become much more "family friendly" in recent years which was easy to see by the many kids running around. Some of the old die-hards still persist in upholding certain cultural traditions such as drinking until you fall over.
These guys were classics. I don't know if they saw much of the official proceedings but they seemed to be having fun. They lost numerous beers by falling asleep & letting them roll down the hill to the awaiting piss-tanks at the bottom of the hill.
At various stages of the day we even saw racing cars!
The eventual winner. Yeehah!
There were also plenty of other things to look at during the slow bits(of which there were plenty - damn rain!)
The blonde chick was an intruder in Big Brother this year. She has obviously done very well for herself since - not!
The afternoon was spent wandering around the various merchandise stands in a drunken blur which was punctuated by the awesome sound of Victor Bray and some other dude in a ute doing the most amazing burn-outs. Tops!
God-damn this thing was loud.
Almost enough cubic inches to fill Bob Browns cavity.
Mate...what a day. Next year I'm staying for the races.
We left after work on Friday night & had a nice, uneventful trip up the mountains. A couple of hours later we were in the Knickerbocker Hotel, Bathurst drinking beer and bopping to the band. For some bizzare reason they shut far too early and kicked us all out. No worries, we just headed to the track. First stop was the main straight for a couple of piccies.
Pete & Brian at the finish line.
The next problem was finding somewhere dry to sleep. A tarp, two fold up chairs and three golf umbrellas later, viola! Lets drink bourbon.
The Bathurst Hilton.
After a very brief pause for sleep we headed off to claim a spot.
Brian & Pete trying to look sober.
We ended up with a top spot right at the first corner so we could see most of the main straight and up mountain straight. Lucky we got there early though, the joint packs out that's for sure.
Brian & Pete not bothering to try and look sober.
The crowd has apparently become much more "family friendly" in recent years which was easy to see by the many kids running around. Some of the old die-hards still persist in upholding certain cultural traditions such as drinking until you fall over.
These guys were classics. I don't know if they saw much of the official proceedings but they seemed to be having fun. They lost numerous beers by falling asleep & letting them roll down the hill to the awaiting piss-tanks at the bottom of the hill.
At various stages of the day we even saw racing cars!
The eventual winner. Yeehah!
There were also plenty of other things to look at during the slow bits(of which there were plenty - damn rain!)
The blonde chick was an intruder in Big Brother this year. She has obviously done very well for herself since - not!
The afternoon was spent wandering around the various merchandise stands in a drunken blur which was punctuated by the awesome sound of Victor Bray and some other dude in a ute doing the most amazing burn-outs. Tops!
God-damn this thing was loud.
Almost enough cubic inches to fill Bob Browns cavity.
Mate...what a day. Next year I'm staying for the races.
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