kryz0r.com was broken this evening.
I’ve just arrived home, had a nice hot breakfast and sat back in my chair after a rather relaxing night of lcf drinking. I do feel a little seedy and the 4 hours sleep was a little on the short side. I have quite a bit to do this weekend and I’m sure I’ll feel like shit at the end of it, but it’ll be worth it.
Shortly, I’ll be on my way to Redcliffe, also known as a long fucking way away for a r31 meet before I return to greater Brisbane for my appearance at a private party at the playboy mansion of Mr Lachlan “Hugh Hefner” Kuhn.
Last night was rather enjoyable, I didn’t converse much with my fellow patrons but was more focussed on polishing off the Bourbon mothership, which last featured in the Mixer spiking cataclysm of 2001. I’d run out of my spirit and polished off the end of another derelect bottle of Jack Ds and seemed to run out of destruction drinking steam around about 11. For the next few hours I listened to some randoms talk about some crap about cars and other bullshit, I was a bitter drunk so I just quietly judged them. I’m just too lazy and honest to bullshit. So around 3 when everyone shut the fuck up, went and passed out in their sleeping quarters/ in the garden, I too got some Zs. Oh and when people are sleeping, don’t make a huge fucking noise in the kitchen. Like if the fucking toaster isn’t fucking working, then don’t fuckign bang it with a spoon at 7am.
So, I just left.
Anyway, back to my weekend.
The Guild League - Siamese Couplets
Taken from here. very very very impressive piece.
Minister for Hoons heads for the pits
Monday View with Mike O’Connor
24jun03
We can now repose contentedly behind our security screens and double deadlocked doors blissful in the knowledge that the hoons have been brought to heel. For barely a day passes when we are not treated to another thundering pronouncement from Police Minister Tony McGrady on the Taming of the Hoons.
Hoons, it seems, threaten civilisation, being a latter-day version of the Goths and Visigoths, hordes of whom will sack the city if left unchecked.
How reassuring it has been to watch the Minister walking in company with senior police as he inspects cars on the Gold Coast which have been impounded for various traffic offences.
Television cameras, summoned to record the enthralling sight of a politician nodding sagely as he looks at cars, record heart-fluttering images of thoughtful chin stroking and earlobe tugging and the pronouncement that yes, they are cars. Absolutely no doubt about it.
The sight of a politician attempting to look thoughtful can easily induce spontaneous tittering and giggling among the most serious and sober of souls.
The sight of one attempting to look thoughtful, forceful and authoritative while staring at an inanimate object and pretending – badly – that he is not being filmed can induce a reaction bordering on the hysterical.
But what about the hoons, you cry? The hoons are coming. The Minister says so.
To the barricades! There’ll be rape and pillage. They must be stopped.
All hail the Minister, the saviour of our time. Cometh the hour, cometh the man.
What we have here is government by image.
Hoons make good images, lots of library footage of tyres spinning and rubber burning. Shocking anti-social behaviour.
Why aren’t they at home watching Big Brother like all normal people?
And the Minister can be seen to be doing something which in politics, as it’s practised in this country on both sides of the parliamentary halfway line, is more important than implementing significant change.
Having been filmed inspecting impounded cars –”It’s a car, Mr Minister.” “Not any car, Humphrey. A hoon’s car. Politically, there’s a huge difference” – we then thrilled to vision of police raiding a car park where young men crazy about their cars regularly gathered.
Tickets were written. Some cars had been modified! More spluttering outrage by the Minister.
I’m not suggesting that anti-social behaviour be tolerated and that dangerous driving be encouraged, but this obsession with hooning by the Minister for Hoons should end – and end quickly.
My mates and I spent most of our money and time on our cars when we were young.
Watching the televised press release masquerading as news the other evening I recognised in the young men on the screen as my mates and I decades ago.
A lot of them weren’t hoons – and I’ve yet to hear a coherent definition of the term – at all.
They were young blokes who loved cars and who’d come to talk to other young blokes who loved cars and check out their machines.
What the Minister’s publicity-driven antics have done is drive a wedge between these young people and the police.
They turn up to indulge their passion for cars and get booked by police, paid extras in the ministerial media show, for having wide wheels or noisy exhausts.
Anyone who squeals a tyre, revs an engine or guns their vehicle away from the lights is now a hoon.
I still do it, myself. I admit it. Take me away. I’m a hoon, the oldest hoon in the country.
I presume that in keeping with his crusading zealotry, the Minister will request police conduct a mechanical check of every bus in the state, including those carrying our schoolchildren and which the Government doesn’t even require to be fitted with seat belts for God’s sake!
Let’s also check all Queensland Rail rolling stock and locos for mechanical faults and the entire State Government vehicle fleet.
Do that, and leave law-abiding young blokes alone.
I have one final suggestion. A few years ago, an old lady was bashed to death on the footpath in broad daylight in Paddington, near where I live. Her killer is still at large.
Perhaps the Minister might care to redirect some of the massive resources expended in getting him on the six o’clock news towards finding her killer.
Apart from the arrogant, rude, arsehole mother fucking, dumbass fucked up son of a bitch wanker I had to deal with this afternoon (my first bad customer) I’ve had a rather successful day. My exam for econ1310 went very well. I felt pretty aweful and nervour beforehand but I felt I knew all the content.
It was good to get done.
Had a visit from a Mr J North to pay off a holiday, but there were some hiccups because of a a certain somebody who will remain unnamed. All fixed up now. One thing that amused me, was Mr J North’s resoursefulness, being, when I found I couldnt fax certain documents to him, he thought of using his modem. leet.
Well, with a great weight off my shoulders, and a massive weekend approaching, I will now go relax.
IN
* owning exams
* Bjork
* red colour in the sky of early morning sunrises
* POWER TIE
* big bookings
* relief
OUT
* Wanker fart monger cock nuggler customer
* lonely
* ihug
* preexam sickfeelingness
* not able to think of any more things to put in this section
bi.