Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Sucked on a robot

It was in the dark that I encountered the robot, its bulbous head slipping into my mouth when I eagerly sought something else refreshing. 

I got a combo pack at the cinema whose drink cup lid came with a Rogue One plastic bust of one of the characters—in this case a droid whose name I do not know. It was as I searched for the slushie's straw with my mouth that I got the droid's head instead and it took a moment before I realised the fail.

I did love that on the Rogue One popcorn tin that the only character whose face could be seen was that of Australian actor Ben Mendelsohn.

I fully expected him to say "You right?! or "What are you looking at!?" if I lingered more than two seconds. 

I like that; it's a good tag. 

(preview man voice) Rogue One—what are you looking at?! in cinemas now.

Broke a glass mug

One of the shitty aspects of having a shitty psychological injury is the increased propensity to drop things—the wound and medication cause hand tremours whose severity varies depending on overall anxiety. 

My fingers also spring open of their own accord unless I actively concentrate to hold it when picking something up.

I picked up a glass mug balanced on a glass mug beneath it but my trembling hand meant it hooked the one beneath and the mug fell to shatter into a cloud of a hundred splinters across the kitchen floor. 

My fight (slash) flight had triggered with the sudden burst of glass and I was angry. I was angry I had dropped the mug and I was angry at being injured. 

Because that's the other shitty thing about a psychological injury—you didn't cause it; it happened to you.

Other previous injury-induced January droppings have included thumbdrives, my phone and the keys that fell into the kitty litter and right onto a litter crystal spackled cat turd.

Monday, January 30, 2017

They knew what they were voting for

There's a view that Trump voters voted for him because of their pain.

Crap. They voted for him because he was the projection of their nativist id and immoral certitude.

I have little sympathy for the impact that Trump will have on his supporters.

I believe Trump is the dead cat bounce of white male privilege and I heartily suspect he will be gone before 2020.

But then I didn't think there were enough deluded people to have voted him in. And I was wrong on that.

Trump voters giddily embraced his world view because he was projecting theirs.

They knew what they were voting for. I hope they remember that when Trump drops on them ... like removing access to affordable healthcare.

Every one else has my sympathy.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

Right into the heart of the first amendment

Not being a scholar of US law, even if it doesn't violate the first amendment for harshing on a singled-out religion, Trump's action to ban people from entering the US from a list of seven Muslim countries is nothing less than a knife to the heart of that amendment

It was designed to stop exactly this sort of bullshit; of fucksticks declaring their faith #1 and all others suck and must bow down—or else. You cannot use the power of a state to menace a faith—even if you think it's bonkers nuts because your own faith says it is otherwise.

I find it especially delish that it affects countries that US geopolitical policies broke—the GOP are the ones who whacked the wasp's nest that caused the middle-east to implode and they are now refusing to deal with their mess. Those refugees are on their head.

I get it. When you've lived a life of just you, where your inputs of reality are from coiffed TV hosts, and you see simple stories it's easy to go argh and hold up your small hand and say "NO!"

But you're the fucking president; the office demands you do better than that. The legacies of all the people before you demand you do better than that. The people of America demand you do better than that.

I will be interested to see what the GOP in the house does. Almost certainly nothing.

It feels like we're all in a grand experiment—what would happen if a "billionaire" racist thug got the presidency?

We'll we're seeing it—and it's just week one.

Probs save us all. 

UPDATE: The real world implications just landed. Donald Trump is a monster. 

Friday, January 27, 2017

Balding? Don't fight it

I told theboy and his friend about the likely state of Trump's hair at natural restbald on top, long at the back. And at play then the hair is combed forward then frozen with spray.

They were horrified. They could not see the value of such a falsehood.

I started balding at 26at the crown. I had an arse-long pony tail at the time.

The PT was gone about a week later.

Donald Trump's hair is a metaphor for his being; a glittering facade on a ball of crap.

Going bald? Don't fight it. Fighting it just makes you look and act worse.

Think how much nicer a bald Trump might act. Melania should shave him at night. Then he'll come out all dreamy and nice ... like Dark Helmet in Spaceballs after he was concussed due to ludicrous speed.

Do it, Melania, do it for the world!

Thursday, January 26, 2017


I got told off by a nine-year-old for swearing. It's fair enough too; he comes from a non-swearing household. I think I said "shit".

Time to go back to g-rated curse mode; Flibberty Gibbets!

Change the date

Every year it gets harder to acknowledge this day as our nation's day because it represents not gain for the world but loss of a rich, vibrant 40 000 year-old culture. Well, not total loss—but not for lack of trying with pre-millenial governments doing their best to scrub it from "modernity".

Change the date; any day but this one. It's the near-moral equivalent of Columbus Day, a day also rank on the nose given crimes against humanity—actual genocide—that Columbus ordered and participated in.

I'm treating Australia Day like an extra Sunday and devoid of "Ozzie". 

Don't get me wrong; I want a national day of celebration for all Australians.

Just not January 26.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

Trump V Obama and Obama's records

Remember a simpler time when Trump was but a gleam in a fascist's eye?

Back in 2012, when Donald demanded Obama release his records (birth and college).

"Obama thinks he can just laugh off the fact that he refuses to release his records to the Americn public. He can't." (Twitter blast; November 2012).

The irony being of course Obama had no reason to supply those records for public viewing whereas every presidential hopeful in the last 40 years has provided their tax returns so as to show any potential conflicts of interest.

All that is except Donald J Trump. Who apparently is still promising to release them, now the election is over when that conflict of interest information risk has passed, but is still claiming he's waiting for the audit to be done.

Noting that this does not stop anyone from releasing them while under audit; even Nixon did that.

But Trump is worse than Nixon so to hold him to Nixon standards is a big ask.

How's that for a through the looking glass thing to write?

Probs save us all.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Good government is the solution, not the problem

DJT has launched himself on to the US federal government and immediately hit it with a hiring freeze.

Like other assorted non-government cock-spanks he has come into government and stopped government. Because he has no concept of government of being the locus of the greater good.

Good government is the bedrock of society; it is the expressed value of a state in the form of its currency value as a well-governed state has a stable dollar.

So any action that undermines good government such as a blanket hiring freeze damages the country and damages its money.

So why do they do it? Because it plays well to stupid people who do not see the value of government even though without it their lives would be hunter gatherer in base and the standard dwelling would be a cave and or humpy; presuming they even make it that far given infant mortality would likely climb back to 50 per cent.

Hiring freezes damage governments; natural attritition is encouraged and corporate knowledge is lost as experienced staff leave and no staff are hired to replace them.

But such an action is par for the course for DJT; a man whose career is defined by voiding the social contract for safe working conditions with his hiring of underpaid labour crews without proper WHS training or equipment and for still being in spite of the evidence pro-asbestos.

So once again the workers of government have been trashed and had support pulled in their efforts to deliver good government because the fucksticks in charge do not believe in government even though their lives of monstrous privilege depend utterly on it.

(Fist raised in solidarity for resource-starved US government workers).

UPDATE: This proclamation issued by DJT has me at a loss; both for its messanic overtones and antithesis to actual actions already undertaken to make America decidedly less great. Poor America, you do not deserve this.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Still here! Football code needs modification

Well Donald Trump hasn't killed us all—yet. The dark part of me wondered if Russia would attempt a decapitating first strike. 

So DJT owns the football with the button in it; which of course is actually a case and actually a card with an alphanumeric code for DJT to use to authorise nuclear weapon release. 

I hope they made the card terribly small so his tiny hands would take a while to grasp—to give him time to reconsider as his dreadfully small digits attempt to hold it—and that the code they selected includes whole phrases like "are-you-sure?" and "money-will-no-longer-work". 

I think the last one would be the one to rely on. Tell him nuclear weapons used (equals) no more money because what value does small bits of plastic paper have when civilisation collapses?

As for the environment they should point out that his hotels are at ground level near the sea and guess what's going to happen to them when climate-change-charged storms combined with gradual sea rise hit. 

That's how to handle DJT; cast everything in terms of how it will impact him personally.

He has no frame of reference beyond his life of astonishing privilege; threaten that and maybe he'll listen.

Probs save us all. 

Thursday, January 19, 2017

President Trump will be focused on the needs of President Trump

Politico had a chat with writers who've written of Trump; about how they saw Trump's handling of the transition and what it said about how he will act in office.

Their view is not good; he's been a bully all his life and will continue to act that way.

We've lost someone that soothed for someone that bristles; a man with the full power of a state to advance his whims and a man whose career is not only defined by defying acceptable norms but reveling in it.

Probs save us all.

Eep—nature says do not touch

With thanks to Gary Larson.

I got pitched a job at a place whose initialism I did not recognise.

A blanch of horror shot through me after I googled for what it stood for and I quickly signaled disinterest; we'd have been an antithetical fit.

Still, how lucky am I to start a year with a fresh horizon. I haven't had that since high school.


Monday, January 16, 2017

It's a cascade of scary

DJT is t-minus four days and counting from the presidency and it's a cascade of scary. 

As the Washington Post has pointed out the presidency of Trump will be like none other; where truth is not truth and where the power of the office will be turned on the fourth estate.

This is deep scary stuff. The US was a continuum of steady as she goes for the world order and it's like the captain turned up drunk to spin the wheel just to see the fuck what happens. 

I read a book recently about the awesome power of the office to do good; the book recounting the deeds done by presidents past that lifted others. But also deeds that damaged. For all the good he did, and there was some governance good, Nixon was treis evil. 

At least Nixon knew government.

Trump is balls deep scary. He has no knowledge of actual government and has lived a life of nasty plenty. He does not care about reality; he cares about Trumpality. 

And he's about to foist Trumpality on the world; the fucking world. 

We loved Obama, we loved his taking executive action (because he had to). But he's handing over that power and those developed protocols to a man, in his words, that is uniquely unsuited for the office; an office that can inflict insta-death on civilisation.

I read too that even Russia got worried during the campaign when Trump slagged off the family of deceased soldiers; thinking for the US people that was just too far. It may have even been too far for them.

It wasn't; he went further. He'll go further still. 

He did not throw the presidential playbook out the window; he just didn't need that playbook. He had profile of looking presidential to morons and he used that to the max. He did it on the cheap too. He got the office like no other person could have done. There is but one DJT.

And now he's going to be #45. 

Probs save us all. I bet those scientists with the doomsday clock are going to move that second needle a lot closer to 12...

Sunday, January 15, 2017


Last night my laptop went weird. It started opening up search windows and it froze in an unusual display. Unable to do anything and fearing malevolent forces I yanked the power—for the laptop's battery never worked and it has to work off the mains.

I sat before it just now, ready to see what the fuck it was that it was when I noticed that the sack containing the Christmas tree was mashed up against the detachable keyboard that was still plugged in. 

Yeah ... the fail was due to "mass button press and hold" by a rogue packed Christmas tree—not malevolent forces.

Unless, that is, the Christmas tree has been recruited and is a Manchurian Christmas tree—like DTJ as soon-to-be comrade head of the executive.  

I'll surveill to see if it does any other weird shit in the shed like meeting with Easter dissidents.

Saturday, January 14, 2017

The Xmas reveal

Every Christmas statements of worth from 2013 and 2014 re-appear above the laptop from where the Christmas decorations are stored. With the boxes gone I can see what I wrote about me from years before on the inside of the shelving unit.

It's pretty powerful stuff. 

They're reminders from past-me to now-me to never, ever feel shit about myself again. I can still feel shitty; just not about me.

Thanks, past-me, for looking out for now-me and I'll see you next Christmas.


Thursday, January 12, 2017

Loss keenly felt

Not only was Obama an awesome technocrat who gave a shit about people not himself or family he could carry a tune.

I hate that he is forced into a role as opposition leader. He should have been able to just fuck off into the sunset leaving a fellow technocrat in charge.

Instead we have Donald Trump. 

I watched an interview with a reporter who was at the white house when the election result was known; he said it like it was death had settled over them. 

And it was Obama who buoyed them, cheered them and reminded them the fight is never done. 

The world was lucky; it had eight years of plenty.

Now let the hunger begin...

Three nice moments noticed and lived in

It's easy to dwell on shitty crap. One way to break out of it is to notice nice moments when they happen then live in those moments.

So here are three.

As I waited for the bus I watched a pair of galahs in a tree.

I caught a bendy-bus to the shops—and I was the only passenger.

After an exhausting pain-wracked walk home I had a shower then hopped in the blow up pool. I sat for 10 minutes with my eyes closed and just blissed out.

Moments grabbed, lived and loved for the win.

Why does he still have intro music?

I started watching the first 2017 Donald Trump press conference and when it came to Trump's turn to appear his intro music started up ... and kept going, cutting over his actual speaking after he got to the podium.

My immediate thought was "why does he have intro music?". Intro music on the campaign is part of that scene, but he's the president elect ... and he still has intro music. 

What kind of fuckstick has intro music when they're the actual next leader of the (free) world?

Then I realised I'd answered my own question.

UPDATE: If Obama had acted and spoke the way Trump had at his first President-Elect presser the outrage from the right would have been deafening—not answering the questions, riffing on how great he is and referring to himself in the third person. What an incredible display of double standards. 

But when you think might or fright makes right then you come up with recessive results like Trump.  

Probs wept. 

UPDATE2: All power to CNN's Jim Acosta who called Trump on his shit and said Trump's response was inappropriate. 

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

First shart of the year

... I'd like to thank the Academy...

UPDATE: My abdomen just mewed like a kitten. That's a surreal experience. 

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Pain free > did chores > gagged and hurt back

When you're a person with disability (multiple) that causes discomfort and pain, when you have those rare moments not soaked in pain you rush and do stuff before your body says no again.

I can ride 20 kays on an exercise bike with some effort but bending and lifting objects is hard for me due to a failing skeleton. 

I had to de-turd the cat litter. I rarely have to do it but I was the only one on deck so after a number of other chores done I did it—having saved it to last in case of disaster (1).

It's lucky I did because it was full—with a planned 10 days between total change—and it needed doing. But because of its heft it was hard to pick up, hard to carry and, as it was day five, it was hard to be around. On the third gag I wrenched my back—the very back that has been healing and causing pain and discomfort in addition to disability as usual.

Fortunately the wrench, while it hurt, didn't stay hurting and the cleanse was completed.

That's what it is to live with a disability. That you master some parts of your life with ease but other parts are a hurdle.

But I wouldn't have it any other way; the disabled—we're diamonds in the rough.

(Fist raised for comrades with a disability).


(1) Like how the live tiger scene is always shot last in a movie.

Fail to strangle a baby in its crib then watch it strangle back

As a confirmed wikaholic and a nerd I spend entire days lost in Wikipedia following interesting wikis. 

I've read a lot about revolutions of late and how those movements govern themselves and others and it very much seems to be a case of baby see, baby do.

Each of the big revolutions such as Russia in 1917 and in China from 1911 onward until 1949 when the communists won saw these revolutions countered with foreign actors supplying materiel and money to do so.

It turns out revolutionaries take that shit personally. They also take the lesson of not only fighting back but then purging themselves and their people of anti-revolutionaries of which not that many are at all anti-revolutionary. They're typically normal people from the wrong place or class or they're the people who spoke up against the toxic effects of revolution.

That's when perverse anti-people acts like death lists happen.

The Russian revolution was actively fought by Western powers and then Russia, now a paranoid super security state, not only savaged their own people in rebuilding the state but rightfully prepared for action against the Western powers that tried to strangle it in its crib. They also forced Marxism on other states to further protect themselves.

The west did that in China as well. And in Vietnam. And in all three countries oppression resulted from that interference. Oppression from the status quo then often worse oppression from the new status quo. That and and with now hardened revolutionary leaders in power often means awful governmentAction! Vs talk and consensus leads to appalling democidal outcomes.

Revolutions are hideously messy horrors but almost all of them are sparked by shitty treatment of the populace ... who then act shitty to the former oppressors, their friends, family, their interests or people who wear glasses.

If there is a lesson out of this I guess it's you better be sure about strangling that baby; because if you fuck it up that baby will grow up and strangle back.

History; it's top down meets bottom up.

Saturday, January 07, 2017

Book nasties

As a short fat kid unable to do sport I read a lot of books. I read books to transport me out of the real and horrible world into worlds of magic and wonder where even a short fat kid can forget he's those things. And if there is a protagonist who has any of your traits you glom onto them.

We are Bastian.

I still do it now when I read but unfortunately there will be characters that share your traits who are disliked and or fated to die.

We are Piggy.

I don't know the fate of this cat in The Secret Agent, Michaelis, but he's got a like-name, my height, is fat and spent long periods of solitude in leftist-laced oration. Not only that but all the other characters hang shit on him for it, noting his monstrous corpulence and wishing they could lock him up in a health farm given his height accentuated rotundity.

That's what I call a book nasty. And, like with horror films, as a fat man he is likely fated to die, die, die.

But I'm committed to finishing this book, even with my doughy avatar at risk.

Probs wept; fist raised in likely memory of comrade Michaelis.

UPDATE: He survived; go alter me!

Risked a chicken run

I had to enter the pen to collect eggs and face off against the duck. This time I went on the offence and when I entered I grabbed the duck and put it on the compost bin. It's about four feet high so the duck can safely hop off but it takes a while for it to leap to do so.

As it was dazed by my bin-relocation and unable to attack me I checked the new hutch for eggs and finding none then checked the old, seeing five. The duck had gotten off the bin but because I had picked it up and "dominated it" the duck avoided me instead of attacking.

No, instead the fucking chickens attacked. Just as I was going for the eggs and putting them carefully into a red plastic jug they attacked my hands with fearsome pecking. I got all five eggs then when I straightened they didn't continue the attack like the duck would have by going for my feet. I think the chickens thought I had treats in my hand and they were rightfully seeking it because thewife and theboy give them treats from their hands.

Fearing future animosity and understanding their desire I later fed them the spoiling seedless green grapes from the top of the fridge. Not from my precious hand, though; I chucked them over the fence.

Those fuckers better remember I ponied up with the good stuff the next time I risk a chicken run.

Friday, January 06, 2017

Sounds of the Australian summer handled ... for now

With PTSD some sounds are murder on your soul; depending, that is, on how fired up your PTSD is.

The Australian summer in the suburbs is blessed with pleasant noise like birdsong but infested with the unpleasant like mower or blower noise.

With much rain there is much mowing and in a street in the suburbs that happens a lot.

It happened at our house. But as part of exposure tolerance I didn't hide with ears covered. I acted normally as if the noise was not there. I handled it.

Now PTSD can flare and I will have another attack at some point. And I sure as fuck couldn't handle being right next to a motorised plant abuser.

But how nice it is to be able to not only endure the noise for now but occasionally forget it is even there.

Recovery progress for the win.

Thursday, January 05, 2017

Ping #11 is away

I spent four an a half hours on a proper job application. So that's ping #11 away—and sent early too. I sat down with the mission to do it and then actually did it in one fell sitting.

I didn't print but I did read aloud before I sent it and caught some shockers. At least this time I invested in quality management.

I got prompted to go for the ping and I didn't let it pass; that was my mission and it's therefore mission accomplished. Even if it fails, and statistically it will, this attempt will fuel other attempts and then I'll be where I need to be.

I'm Mikey and I get things done.


Tuesday, January 03, 2017

More comedy lore

The 90s Sandler triptych: The Wedding Singer, Billy Madison and Happy Gilmore.

He loved all three.

Sunday, January 01, 2017

Told my mother off

Part of the joy of psychological injury is it poisons your dreams. Not only do you dream about that but all the shitty crap that afflicted you in life.

But occasionally in a bad dream your avatar can take control.

So that's how it came to be that I finally told my mother off; that she—in the dream—was a nasty old bully. 

I awoke angry but also with a tinge of pride. That dream self in his moment was able to calmly and rationally call my mother on her shit—and in my dream she wasn't addled by dementia or crippled by MS so she was capable in mind and body to take the message. 

Other old, clawing hurts came unbidden in the minutes on waking and made me angry again. But now I've had those moments I'll read a book until I go to sleep again. 

That's life with a psychological injury; even your unwaking thoughts are riven with hurt.

UPDATE: It should be also noted my mother was an awesome person. Our relationship was complicated.