However, Second Life has no defined central purpose, making its audience ripe for distraction, at least in theory.I know people whose first life has no defined central purpose.
...that we are fucked.
I have nothing I can say about this. Just read it and blink.
Yes, we are coming for you, capitalist swine!
I just went out and bought a couple of new pillows. I glanced at the washing instructions as I stuck them in the pillowcases, and saw along side 'do not tumble dry' the instruction 'do not iron'.
Do not iron.
It's a fucking pillow.
The dickhead to the left is Nelson Aspen, and I hate him like I hate getting out of bed in the middle of a winter's night.
This bronzed ball-licker is the reporter for all your Hollywood bullshit needs. He's on TV every morning in Australia, so I have had time to ponder exactly why I think this guy is a raging ass-monkey.
An obsequious, vacuous, fucktard, Nelson reports on the vacuous lives of other obsequious fucktards... And it all has no fucking bearing on anything.
I'd just like to say on behalf of all the voices in my head:
Nelson Aspen, you fucking suck...
Ass.
Have a nice day, dickhead.
A Catholic school in
This is more evidence that the world is in fact doomed.
Absolutely fucking astounding.
Now, I hate Hyundai Excels with a mighty anger, but I’m not trying to ban their use (though perhaps that is not an entirely bad idea).
Bring on the flood.
Sense of irresponsibility—immaculate condition, best in
The alarm went off this morning at seven like it always does. I pressed the snooze button and rolled over.
Bip!
What? Ten past? What's going on?
Snooze.
Bip!
Twenty past? What the fuck? How is this possible, I swear I just blinked.
Then I realised.
Of course!
Aliens!
Aliens were stealing my time—they had to be. What else could explain these bizarre time distortions?
I hit the snooze button, lay on my back and peered out from under my eye lids. I relaxed every muscle (well, not every muscle) in anticipation of springing from bed and throttling one of those pesky time-stealing aliens.
Bip!
Sweet fucking Jesus! Sneaky fuckers, they've done it again! Half past!
Damn!
I'll get the little bastards tomorrow.
The highway stops just before Gympie; everything after is just a single lane each way stretching off into the distance. It was just after Christmas, so around every fifty Ks we passed another speed trap. The rain intermittently pissed down but we found that at 110 km/h you could have the sunroof all the way open yet let in no rain.
The day wore on and we passed through Bundaberg then Rockhampton. By ‘passed through’ I mean, ‘stopped and stuffed around for about an hour’ in each. At Rockhampton, Brennan took over the driving and I cracked a beer. Tim though this was a good idea also, and so we ended up stopping at desolate spots on the side of the road to piss every 100 km or so. With the engine and the lights off, there was only blackness on the sides of the road, the whistling of the wind and the sound of sticks breaking as Yowies prowled around in the dry dark.
Occasionally the wind would pick up the sound of an engine and a light would appear in the distance. The sound would grow until, tires roaring on the bitumen, a 4WD would break cover then go whistling off into the night, the trees on the side of the road vanishing with the light. And then it was black again. No houses, no other roads, no distant lights. Just us, out under the stars and… 'Sweet Jesus! What the fuck was that? Get back in the car guys, let’s go.'
1000 km from Brisbane, after following the red tail lights of a speeding truck through the tree-lined dark we pulled in to a caravan park in Mackay.
We stayed the night in a cabin that appeared to be made out of cardboard covered in wood print plastic coating. The beds were vinyl and the air conditioner made disturbing gurgling/I’m-about-to-explode noises. Somehow with the application of beer, and salami and cheese sandwiches, we managed to fall asleep…ish.
Someone had switched off the noisy air-con last night so we awoke gasping at around seven AM. I tried to throw myself out of bed but regretted it immediately as I left behind half my skin on the vinyl mattress.
What the fuck is all this hype about the iPhone?
It’s a fucking phone people. A phone.
It does shit that almost any other modern phone will do. My phone plays MP3s, accesses the net, records video etc. I could go out and buy a 32 gig miniSD card if I wanted to outstrip Apple’s 8 gig…
Really, what the fuck?
I hear Apple have already sold half a million of the little iPhucks to half a million iPhuckwits. Lifestyle wankers unite.
This is just another thing I’ll never understand…
Like those fucking lunatics that camp overnight on the street outside the iWank shop to be the first person on their block to be ripped off.
But then why should I be surprised? People are fucking morons—some watch Big Brother, some dress up as Darth-fucking-Vader AND camp out on the street all night for a movie preview, some keep sending money to Nigerian scam artists AFTER the federal police have contacted them and informed them that they are involved in a scam.
Some people spend hours of their time writing shit for a blog that nobody reads.
Really, what chance does the human race have? We’re fucked; it’s been nice knowing you.
