Being literally Hitler wasn’t enough, now he’s being compared to Negan. I thought this would be fun to make but it was harrowing as fuck to be honest.
Includes spoilers for the seventh season.
I have to return some videotapes
Patrick Bateman inspired me to make a Trump video. It’s really for no reason other than to poke fun at events of the last year. There’s already more than enough people kicking off and bawling salt into their wounds. Let the freaks eat each other and judge the fucker on his time in office.
I remember back in ’05 I bought one of those Good Bush/Bad Bush t-shirts. Some arsehole stole it from my washing line. I assume now that it must’ve been a soldier from beyond the apocalypse whose own clothing couldn’t pass through the time door. That was my first foray into US politics. This is my second.
If there isn’t a third then I’m back on the sauce.
How Much Conspiracy is Too Much? (Drunken Rant #2)
We can’t trust mainstream media but the alternative can get real batshit real quick.
Eight Stories in an Evening
I asked friends to give me a word each so I could build a story from three. It just seemed like a good idea because wine and I’m not saying these wee tales are any good but they made me feel good writing them and that was lovely, thank you. Written in six hours or so, so go easy.
SLUG SUGAR SWEAT
They called it a slug, you know, that round that goes in the gun or whatever. I called it a bullet and they all sniggered, sniggered at how I held it, how the sweat poured down my face as I aimed the cursed thing.
One thing’s for damned sure – ain’t no one gonna be callin’ me sugar no more.
Lithuanians and other bogeymen (2009)
While desperately searching various drives for my old short stories but finding only corrupted files I came across an old project report, (Back in 2009, Vilmantė, Sölvi, Dina and I produced a heartwarming wee Choose Your Own Adventure style Flash game about villains of the week, those dastardly Lithuanians, and that’s why there’s no such thing as racism anymore.)
It made me smile to remember a time when the knee-jerk armchair generals and vicious bigots of this country were all up in arms about ‘swarms’ from the east rather than the south-east.
The rhetoric may be saccharine and naive but I thought I’d share the report regardless. I’ve stripped most if not all of the business/marketing guff since I didn’t write it anyway; besides, no one visits this blog flushed with expectation for Target Group Analysis and User Scenarios, right?
If nothing else, it shows that you can get away with using colourful language like the S, F and N-words whilst trying to make some sort of sense of this shitty fucking world full of C-words. Continue reading “Lithuanians and other bogeymen (2009)”
Interview: Pope Benedict XVI on the sickness of homosexuals
As described and transcribed in full here, due to a problem with the original cassette recording of this interview, I have dictated as best I can from memory.
Scottish Defence League march on Parliament
You wait ages for a racist then 50 turn up all at once; well it looked like 50 to me but the Police estimate 150 so what do I know? There were more people filming them though, that’s for sure – it’s the festival after all – and although the Police also put the counter-protest at 350, by far the greatest number of boots on the ground belonged to the Old Bill. Continue reading “Scottish Defence League march on Parliament”
Talking with the Pope about homosexuals: A damning account
― Gene Roddenberry
The late great Ricardo Montalbán (above) once said that he believed all good villains do villainous things, but think that they are acting for the ‘right’ reasons. It was with this thought in mind – and others more frustrated – that I considered my meeting with Joseph Ratzinger; the then Pope Benedict XVI.
D― had approached me, appealing to my ego, telling me I was wasting my talent, that he was whoring his: “Let’s make something fantastic,” he said, “then get people to give us money to make more.” Continue reading “Talking with the Pope about homosexuals: A damning account”
Hard times on the High Street and A Tale of Two Sarahs
The minute you no longer feel unabashed, childlike joy as you crunch across a blanket of fresh snow, I say go ahead and drink a cup of crushed hemlock; because this world has nothing more to offer you. An old friend of mine once told me that the act tapped into my destructive nature and if I would only accept my inherent regressive character traits then shame alone would quicken a better Parlett. Even to this day I regret not striking him with the back of my glove and calling him a scoundrel. Continue reading “Hard times on the High Street and A Tale of Two Sarahs”
