I of the Beholder

You know what really get’s my bloody boiling? Bloody upitty young women who think the worst of a Man just because for what ever reason they don’t like the look of him.

Perfect exapmle this other day, I was walking alone minding my own Business on my way home from another interview, I noticed a young lass walking toward’s me on the foot path. She was probably a good, oh 30 yard’s away, i hadn’t even had a chance to give my usual chipper greeting when she lowered her face and briskly crossed to the other side of the rod!

Look, now I’m no oil panting, I’ll be blunt and you can even see that for yourself, but it beg’s belief that a young lass could think a dead-set stranger, in Broad daylight and doing nothing but swinging a breifcase on his way home, could intent to dothem harm – just because of his apearence? What of it anyway,  she couldn’t have even have got a good look and my mug from that faraway .

Well I’ve had an absolute Gutful of this kind off sick predjuice- believe it or note this has happened to me before. So bugger her, here ‘s what I figure she was thinking; reality on the left and her twisted perspenctive on the Right (excuse my woe full drawing!)

walkinghome

Anyway, like I said, this is’nt the first time this has hapenned to me and I’ve had it up to Here so, I thought well to Hell with you, you Leftitst bitch, so once she was “safely” (HA!) on the other side   of the strret I yell out:

“Don’t flatter yourslef Toot’s, I would’nt touch yuo with Jeff Clark’s!”

So what does she do? She starts running! Right after I make it prefectly clear I bloody well WAS’NT going to rape her!

Fair dinkum, this World is rooted some time’s.

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You Win Mate

Right, so me old China plate Trevor McDonga 9a nickmane he picked up in pub urinal’s all over the southeasten suburbs if You catch my drift)* has been getting into me to fire up this here old Blog again. and theres’ only so much a nagging Man can take before either letting the fist’s go or just meekly giving in.

Well the Big fella is pretty handy with the mitt’s to, so I’ve wisley chosen the later!

Plenty has changed in my lenghty spell away from theb loggosshpere, especially on the home front where Slim, is for better or Worse a fully fleged Horses Hoof. “Out and proud” he says but insists that I say Gay not Poofter if I have to say anything at all, if you do’nt mind Umpire.

wELL. He’s my son and I love the devil (not in that way!) but says I as long as your living under My roof I’ll call you what ever I want, even late for diner. As I alway’s said, If it walk’s like a Duck it’s probably coped one up the Arse” if you’ll pardon my Francewar.

Its’ taken some getting use to, but blood is blood and all that. As long as he respect’s my wish that he does do any Funny business in my hose, hell alway’s have a home here. Beside’s the bloke his “seeing” is’nt so bad as far as shirtlifter’s go, he even like’s fotty.

The other devlepoment has been I ve given up the Drink – to a great degree, although not with out some lapses. But thats how this thing’s go. Its inabled me to keep up the Job hunt with a but more diligence if not success bit even the Optimist I ca’nt help feeling some thing lies around the corner.

Any way i’M going to have to ease my way back into this here caper but there you go, Trev you persistent Bastard. Fist one down and more to come.

* His got a really big Penus

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A mixed Bag

When I first founded this Blog its raisin d’entree was to ad my voice to the Political discus in Australia, partly becuase I believe is dominated on all Front’s by the Left and there propagandering minions. Now it has come to pass that, looking over my effort’s off the passed few month’s that the balance of my out put have been overwellmingly personal.

I’m not sure how I feel about this but it has happened though a range of Issue’s & Circumstance and there’s little I can doo about it now aside from hope you reader’s, who I expect come here to chew my fat a little from time to time to time bit do’nt mind and are entertained or find something to empathise with when you do .

ANyway like my old man use to say “this World of our’s is spinnin to fast” And to extend that analgy, I have to admit I’m in a bit of a spin myself.

Most of you know how things stand with Slim, and to put it diplomamaticly all is not quite on the Western Frot. the way Slim is going hes not the kind of matter to be raising with decent  fork who want to be coming on a Blog and having a shinwag without yodelling there breakfast’s out of disgust – if you see what I’m getting at.

So, fice to say iv’e got a wrong un on my hands. But infact another ton of Trey Bit has hit the fan of late.

I’m not a Man whose scarred of a fight with Reality but I must admit iv been hitting the Devils’ Mouthwash a bit lately. The Bull’s aren’t ones to run from a fight and ‘Im the kind that step up and stick’s one on lifes jaw if I think liberty’s are been taken. But since this businesss with Slim I have’nt had the heart.

Sitting on the veranda at 3am with a bottle of bottle of Glen Simpson in your gut, Dingley Village can look a very depressing place.

And the Glen Simpson! – on my Oath, never buy scotch off the Intenet. I was just about ready to give up on grog after the second case, but the old Bull Machoismo kicked in.You Never writo off a bull but

In anycase Ive decided to clean up a bit after a nasty bit of business with Button’s.

The poor tyke ate a  plastic bag and had some trouble this morning doing what comes Natural if you get my drift. Lucky – or not so lucky may be- I could see the buggar in there. I was  a bit worse for where but I worked a finger’s in and managed to hook one of the handles.

I do;nt know if it was the Stench or maybe a few day’s on the Glen Simpson had drained me but I could’nt get the thing out. Worst, Button’s was looking over his shoulder at me, and when I saw the pain in those big eyes – he seemed to be saying “Raymond stop puling that bag out of my arsehoe.

But I think being a Man is about making those Hard decision’s some times.

I knocked back a douible Glen Simpson and shouted Eureaka!

Get well soon little Mate -I know how your feeling, believe it or note.

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Tear’s off a Man

After having previously thrown my full sppurt behind Dr Brendan Nelson, and seeing the raw emotion he excluded after being bumped form the Liberal’s head job by Malcolm Turnbull, I’d be lying if I said a big old knot didn’t from deep in this sentimental old buggers’ throat.

Dr Nielson conduced himself with dignity, determination and integrity over the course of his 10 moths as Opposition ladder, often under the unimagineable strain of internal Party destablization and the most outrageous insluts being hurled at him from Journalist’s and bloger’s who have nothing better to do that kick a Man while his down.

Go well Dr Nelson.  And may that arsejawed Roger Ramjet look alike who has taken you’re place never forget the hard work that laid the path for his canter to the next election.

PS: Of course I am not abandonning the Liberals as my Pasty of choice, but one has to wonder the Wisdom of putting a leftist maskerading as a Conservative in the top Job surely. Thing’s did’nt go so well during the Other Malcolm year’s now did it? Thanks god Fraser had a damn good Treasurer.

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Fielding bark’s up wrong Tree

Now before I get started I feel I should point out that dispite my having had a go at Christian’s before, I do’nt have anything against Christianity as such, understanding as I do that Judo-Christian principal’s form the basis of The Wests laws and value’s.

That said, Family Fist Senator Stephen Fielding- who the other day dragged that tired old chest nut about Pensioner’s being so hard up they are eating dogfood, is a dead set crouton.

Now, while I’m not a pensioner quiet yet, I am hard up at the moment (have been for some time too), and while I have’nt exactly been eating the kind of tucker that would have the Poofy fellow form ABC’s The Cock and the Chef programme beating a path to my diner table, I can happily report that I have’nt felt the need to carve up a tin of Pal.

I Have eaten dogfood once before, but not through hunger or nessecity but to prove a point. On afternoon down at the local Pub in the heat of a verbal dispute, another regular, “Tank” called me a dog. Partly to show him how rediculous his slur was and also to diffuse the situation ( which had been escalating for sometime), I ducked off home (I live very close to the pup) and came back with small tin of Button’s favourite Lucky Dog, peeled off the lid and ate the whole stinking lot with my finger’s in front of all and Sundry in the public bar. Then, when I was finished I licked the tin and barked at the crowd who by then were in Hysteric’s.

The all agreed I’d certainly put Tank in his place when I asked them, But I tigress…

Stephen Fidling is in a unique position to stick it to the Goverment, and the best he can do is come up with this nonsense about dogfood which everyone can see is blatantly false and only succeed’s in drawing attention to his pettiness and away from the real Issue’s.

The fact is that pensioner’s are doing it tougher than ever .Kevin Rudd is is selling them short, just like his doing with the Nations worker’s and kids. To be perfectly Frank, what with his follies of Carbon Credit Schemes and what not, he’ll wind up giving this Great Brown Lad of our’s a rogering with all the trimmings by the time his first Term is through!

If Stephen Feilding is going to throw away every freekick his given by making a bloddy goose of himself, he should just stich to counting his Rosary beans and leave politic’s to those who are willy enough and willing to separate Church and States.

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The Prodigle Son

My little coroner of the Blogsphere has been pretty quite of late, and it is again time to dust of the cob webs. It seem’s my reticence to post the story of Slims departure from the Bull Ring (AKa our once happy abode) has delivered a mixed blessing of sort’s -Slim has since swallowed his pride (and hopefully nothing more as I shall shortly revel) and come home.

I dhouls point out in fairness to sLim that he asked me not to make this public, but I was forced to issue an ultimation of sort’s as he has thus far refused to talk about the circumstances of his return indeed even the self-imposed excile from our Home in the fist place. It has since elapsed and as mush as it pain’s me to do so, I am now prepared to speak in the hope that, all temporary pain it may cause the resluts of my outpouring might save his future and our friendship in the future.

So, a little background is in odour.

Some of you may recall that our relationship was on some what rocky ground since my son began his University carrer and, as all evidence suggested, took up a flirtation with the Leftist stain that seem’s to breed in those damned places of “education.

Argument’s became common place where once their we’re none, and he became more absent (both physically and mentally) and withdrawn in the time’s he was home always repairing to his room and playing music which, frankly. The like’s of which I have never heard nor wanted to !

Without wanting to cover anymore of the old ground, suffice to say thing’s were at a boiling point for some time before he announced he was planning to move into a share house with a new mate of his.

Now this mate who, we’ll call Terry (not his real Name) is, in my estimation, a bigger mincer than you’ll ever find in an industrial house of Sausage. I’ve repeatedly stated that, as a Tolerant Man I have no problem with those of the Homosexual persuasion, but I do’nt particularly have any desire to break Bread with them at my diner table if you catch my drift.

I’d encounted this character a couple of times before as he’d come to pick up Slim for concert’s and what not, never comeing in the front door but I could see his plucked eye brow’s(!)and smell his sickly sweet colon from the living room. Mind you I get sneezzy when a Woman wear’s too much bloody perfume, so this is no indicastion of a prejudice on my part I hasten to add. But for Christ’s sake, my pertunia’s were wilting in the front path!

In any case, Slim was naturally enough coy when I asked him who his flat mate was to be, but you ca’nt keep anything from your Father for to long. And did I hit the Roof when I found out it was Dean!

In the ensuing blue Slim made all manner of denial’s and accusations about my Character. He left in tears that day and I’d be lying if I said I did’nt have a lump in my throart after some of the thing’s we raked over. He came back while I was out one day to pick up his Thing’s and I didn’t see him for several week’s.

Low and behold he came back last week end once again in tears but this time alot more unwilling to spill his gut’s. Now I consider it a Fathers duty not to pass undue Judgment on a son particularly when he’s in the difficult process of becoming a Man, but all I demanded to know of him was if he left because he’ed been Interfered with by that lightfooted devil.

He told me to leave it, askd me nicely as a matter of fact, and although my heart was rent with tenderness for the poor boy my Temper (a bull legacy) got the batter of me.

“So help me God, I roared “If that son of a bitch so much as looked you up and down in the shower I’ll go over their and pull his Cock clean of!”

For gods’ sake I don’t even know where the devil  live’s, but Slim slammed his door and locked it saying “This is why you and I will never be friends, Dad, we’ll never understand eachother and I’m only hear until I find my feet.

I have scarcely seen hide nor hair of him since that argument -he has been in his room or studiously out of the house when I’m in or out.

He wo’nt hear of an appology and I am once again as a loss as to what so do. I ca’nt help but think Fatherhood wasn’t meant to be this hard and ca’nt begin to imagine were it has all gone wrong.

Slim, if your reading, you old Man is sorry and will do anything to have you back. Mate.

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