Cunt reunion

Almost two years ago I had the pleasure of helping organise my High School 10-year reunion. Granted there was probably only one other person less likely to organise the reunion, a guy who published a hit list of girls in our year he wished would die, I took on the task with enthusiasm and a mild sense of satisfactory irony. But that is irrelevant to the story.

At the reunion, I got to talking to one of the local lads we grew up with, and although he was a couple years older than us, he was part of our 'group of friends'. I never really liked this guy much and I never really trusted him. Deep down though, I guess you could say, he was a CUNT.

If you could see a picture of this guy you would instantly know what I mean. He has that "fuck off" reserved smirk and you just know, given the chance, if you died, he would anally rape your corpse and cum on your decomposing face.

Now I am a guy that is has a relative high level of trust in mechanics and automated design. I don't expect planes to just fall out of the sky, I trust most cars will stop at a red traffic light and my vibrating anal butt plug won't explode in my arse at point of climax.

This guy, the CUNT, told me where he worked. He works as a rail-works technician in Northcote. When I am riding across the train tracks now, even if there is no hint of the boom gates going down or the red flashing lights and the annoying dinging noise, I have to check twice, sometimes three times, just to make sure there hasn't been some mechanical malfunction where the boom gates haven't dropped for an oncoming train, due to the CUNT not doing his job because he was too busy trying to submit his girlfriends naked photos to Zoo Magazines Booty Bank* without her knowing, and I am going to get splattered by the train, die and I won't get to return my library books. I really hate late fines.

Sometimes, I guess, it’s best not to know who the people are that are doing the jobs that could potentially save our lives.

*The booty bank was a real section of Zoo magazine. Zoo magazine currently have a competition where you can “win a boob job for your girlfriend.”

**I re-read this post briefly, and yes, it does appear to be more sexual than other posts. I put this down to the fact I have been listening to the Dan Savage Podcast which is the gayest thing I have had in my ears since my school mate, Steven, tried to give me a wet willy with his penis when I was seven years old. Wocka Wocka Wocka!

Thinning out the population

I’ve been thinking about death a little bit lately. Not in a particularly morbid way or with any depth of emotion of course, I’ve just been thinking of its place in life, society and popular culture. And I gotta say, I’m for it. Euthanasia, abortion, death penalty, let’s do it. And things that lead to quickened death; smoking, obesity, extreme sports, religion, I am down. I'm basically down for any activity that thins out the population and makes it easier for me to get a table at Dench for breakfast on Saturday mornings.

Euthanasia

Despite writing a terrifically insightful essay* in year 12 about how Euthanasia should not be legalized do to the impracticality of implementing a policy that would not be inherently racist and class-ist, for which my then English teacher, John Duke, called me a “fucking little cunt” with all the repressed anger a 40 year old man living in Stawell can muster, I am totally down with Euthanasia. My only caveat, people need to get a permit to commit euthanasia and the method of death has to be totally original. You could slip on the bathroom tiles, electrocute yourself watering the Christmas tree or create some domino, Honda TV ad contraption with a series of marbles, knives and syringes of morphine.

*insightful into the mind of a contrary 17 year old boy not the euthanasia issue.

Abortion

I once slept with a Christian who considered herself pro-life and had a crucifixion tattoo on her inner thigh. Let me just clarify. It wasn’t just a Christian cross; it was Jesus dying on the cross. And it was near her vagina, on the inner-thigh, kind of where you would expect a “slippery when wet” tattoo would reside. Let me just say I definitely used protection. For multiple reasons.

Not only do I think less of these fetuses should be born, I’m in favour of retroactive abortions, Ex post facto abortions if you want to get all legal, where we abort people who are currently alive but that should have been aborted. For instance, anyone who has a vanity number plate, or listens to Kelly Clarkson or whose name is The Jonas Brothers could be retroactively aborted. Unfortunately their already lived existence cannot be.

The Death Penalty.

I once thought the death penalty was an inhumane way of dealing with societies ‘problems’ stemming from some archaic beliefs rooted in the middle-ages. That was until I started watching reality television.

The problem with the death penalty and why it fell out of favour, as I see it, comes down to 2 factors. Firstly, we just applied the death penalty to narrowly in regards to the amount of crimes it could be used for. Murder. That was it. How boring. Throw in some random ones. Make things interesting; really make people watch their P’s and Q’s. The penalty for being convicted for littering: Death!

Secondly, it all went a bit south for the death penalty when we stopped having public executions. Bring that shit back. Turn it into TV. Have a reality TV show around it, So you think you can Death Row. The victim can choose his own form of execution. Make it the half-time show at the football. Give them a chance to survive, if the can do the rubik’s cube in under 2 minutes you get to live. Judge Judy can give stay of executions. Let’s make it less about justice and more about entertainment. Heck, we can even kill the odd celebrity here and there (Darrell Summers anyone?). I tell you, people would skip church to watch that shit on TV.

You are what you watch.

A little while ago I was re-watching one of my all time favourite TV shows, The Sopranos. Such compelling characters, intricate relationships and a truly sustaining storyline. It wasn't until later in the week of my Sopranos marathon did I realise how significantly it had affected me and how dangerous television can really be.

I was browsing in my local secondhand bookstore, minding my own business, as all unblameworthy characters ever are. So guy comes up to me, leaving his kid behind to browse the picture books and he asks, "Hi, where would I find the text books?" As quick as you could say The Stugots, I said, "how the fuck should I know?"

Two days later, walking home from the milkbar down the road, a beggar asks me for some change. Now I normally don't give change to panhandlers but I will make an exception when they do it in my hood. I'm very community mind, of course. Into his open palm I put one dollar and thirty cents in change and he just stands there with his palm still open, looks at his palm, then looks up at me, then looks back down to his open palm, which now is $1.30 richer.

"What?" I ask.

"More?"

"More? You want me to take it back? Now get the fuck outta here!"