AUSTRALIAN DONGER TAKES ONE FOR THE TEAM

Well, it should.

Donger? 
Those crazy Ozzies with their colourful(google is telling me this is spelt(grr) incorrectly...well, screw you google) language.
In any case, this story revolves around some drongo being sent off a fottie pitch for being in breach of the flaming rules. 


And what pray tell was his violation? Well, it was his donger of course, his old fella, his doodle (master your own oz slang here)
Anywho, during the first half of the match poor old Aaron took a direct hit to the old fellas. "Stone the crows". Queue wincing pain and raucous laughter from so called mates. 


This, of course wouldn't result in a sending off. No it was while receiving treatment (a bag of birdseye frozen peas, one assumes) that his transgression was discovered. 
It was discovered that this galah had a piercing in a rather intimate place. No, not his shoulder, that would be silly. His other intimate place. To quote: 

"At this point the referee became aware that he had a body piercing.

  "He subsequently received two yellow cards, firstly for re-entering the field of play without the referee's permission, and secondly for privacy reasons being unable to prove that he had removed the piercing."

Well isnt that a kick in the knackers. What a fruit-loop. I need to stop looking at that slang page. For those of you interested in the hilarity, watch the video below. 

LINKS!! MEANINGFUL LINKS

God left the oven open.

Crazy Chilean Volcano Pics

Amazing pictures of the Chilean Volcano erupting. We all knew a volcano in Chile was kicking off, right? 

Cyanide and Happiness

These comics are a a bit removed from Garfield and Dilbert. These guys would eat Dilbert and stuff Garfield....literally. 

Grammar Nazi

If like me, you like correcting other people's grammar but hate when your  own is called into question then this is your website. (nobody correct my grammar)

Internet Sonage

Need a song? Then go here. You could also try youtube. But this works too. 

Mood Stream

This is a really cool little gadget to play around with. 

Website Database

Finally. Cant find a website to while away hours of time. Then go here. Millions of websites broken down into categories and countries. So if you want to find out whats the number three website in Kyrgyzstan this is for you. FYI its http://odnoklassniki.ru/ 

VAN DAMME THE MAN

This week Id like to recommend a rather delightful film to watch. Known around the world as JCVD which doesnt stand for Jim Clancys Vehicle of Death (not a short lived Simpsons spinoff) about an Irish farmer with a modified death tractor. No. In fact it refers to the daddy of all 80's action movie stars. No not Stallone. No not Arnie (couldnt spell his surname and I refuse to use google.) Not even Steven Seagulll. No this acronym alludes to the wonderboy Jean Claude Van Damme.

However this incarnation of J. C. doesnt involve him being a hard target or a kick boxing master. No. This time round Jeanny takes on the his toughest role yet. He decides to tackle himself. Yes, he plays himself.

In fact I have to give him kudos for attempting this. It is certainly original. And to all those nay sayers out there who believe he cant act and his only talents revolve around kicks and punches. I urge you to watch this movie. Its not half bad.

In the movie we are presented with a withered husk of an action star. An ageing Damme is the wrong side of his grandiose youth tackling tax evasion problems and a prolonged legal battle with his ex wife. To rub salt in the wounds Steven Seagull has just beaten him to his next job. Seagull secured the role by chopping his luscious pony tail. Anything for a job Steve. The movie does draw on some real life troubles the VanDamme has experienced. i.e. tax trouble and child troubles.

To escape this bleak life in Hollywoodland, Jeanny decides to return to his homeland, Belgium where the people see him as some sort of  god, who has returned from Olympus.

Nonetheless, money troubles still haunt Dammy. Forced to make a pitstop at a local post office to pay cab fare, our hero unwittingly disturbs a robbery in progress. When police come to investigate they mistakenly believe Claude to be the perpetrator using the robbery as a means to pay his legal bills.

From here on out the story is told from several out of sync sequences ala Pulp fiction.
All in all I was surprised that I liked this movie. The last flick of Jeans that blew me away was Timecop. But I think age and nostalgia account for that.

This is at least 10 kicks better than that. Rent it, download it, ask me for a copy. But see this movie and be pleasantly surprised.

Are you wide to……. Soap Operas by EB

Your life is rubbish. I’ll say that again, your life is rubbish. So its understandable that you need escapism. Its Regrettable, but understandable. But rather than my usual pseudo-intellectual rants where I pretend that I’m very important and know the key to enlightenment and feed my ego and and and……. Today im going to simply suggest other forms of escapism that are less pathetic and pointless that watching soap operas. 

Here goes (in no particular order): Exercise, Go-Karting, Pornography, Playstation, Paragliding, hide and Seek, Heroin, Reading, S & M, Sport, Alcohol, Writing silly articles for a website, Night courses in Reiki, auto-erotic asphyxiation, pet ownership, hunting, social interaction, WWF wrestling, feeding the birds in the park, doing the washing up, experimenting with fire, dogging, shop lifting, downloading movies, downloading songs, putting all the cushions on the floor and pretending to be In gladiators. Sodomy, pizza, cigarettes, self-harm, cow-tipping, genocide, holidays, gambling, making scones, eating scones and finally suicide.

Seriously, anything’s got to be better than the bullshit that is eastenders, corrie, hollyoaks, neighbours, Home & away, el dorado and emmer dale farm. Utter fucking tosh.

Are you wide to……….The Price of Misinformation? by EB

Information is one of the most valuable tools of our society. It must be agreed that television is the greatest media tool in terms of both comfort and ease of access. I realise the Irony of conveying this message through an alternate medium, however the point must be made. In Ireland we have a state broadcaster- RTE. RTE provide a government funded state broadcasting network. Great! And we pay a tax for such a service. Fair enough. But there’s two problems:

1. They commercially advertise.

They force product onto to you, the consumer, to make money to fund their programmes. Now a lot of TV companies will do that, but we don’t pay Bravo, ITV, Virgin 1, TV3 and UK living €160 for the privilege. RTE get a personal donation from each household and business in the country, yet still whore themselves out to the likes of Harry Corry, Nike and Cilit Bang. Is our money not enough. How much does it take to run a tv station? Especially one who’s original programming looks like it was made on a nokia 5310 with a cast of presenters and actors who were (mis)fortunate enough to be in the dole office that day, Which brings me to my second point.

2. RTE is unashamedly Crap.

I mean really, really crap. With all the production value of a transition year project and the talent roster of a Heroin addiction support group it is a wonder the RTE brass don’t pay us to watch this nonsense. After all, state broadcasters have to follow their mandate to reflect the “climate of the Republic”. Even the news, the only thing it is very difficult to make a balls of, smacks of amateurism genetically spliced with Fianna Fail Cronyism, the catalyst for which being Anne Doyle’s Peroxide. If I’d know all I had to do was hang around in Donny and Nesbitt’s for a few weeks and I’d be offered a job as head of Current affairs, or chief Cable operator on Fair City then I’d have never bothered with the painstaking years of college being forced to go without Sky and having to spend my days with RTE’s pathetic (CHEAP) imports of terrible shows like Dr. Phil, Shortland Street and re-re-re-re-repeats of Murder She wrote (although it was great the first 3 times).

I don’t watch RTE. Ever. Not even sport. Why would I pay to see alcoholics make fools of themselves. I can get the drunk around the corner to dance for two cigarettes and a can of Lynden village. But I still have to pay a licence. It kills me. Id rather go through childbirth, while having Marty Whelan’s face tattooed on my scrotum, drinking domestos and trying to have semi-consensual sex with a porcupine. Bloody RTE. Bloody TV licences.

Sensationalism. by Frank Lee

Sensationalism is how we organise our news. Each month we have a new concern that we must dread. I first recall this dread machine with the AIDS scare. We were all to die if we went within ten yards of an infected person. This pestilence would wipe out the human race within ten years. Of course, it didn't quite happen as planned. We're all still alive, surprise, surprise. But the scares persist; drugs, weapons of mass destruction, guns, bird flu. The list continues but mankind's population keeps exploding, so somehow the attrition of these scares is minimal. No end to wars, huge famines, car crashes, terrorism, State or otherwise, have barely dented the exponential growth of the human race. Onward we race, six billion and growing. Maybe obesity will be our saving grace, killed of by over indulgence on cream buns and burgers. Yes, newspapers and other media outlets have sensationalised obesity and anorexia, the list continues. On top of all this we have the fear of fear itself.

How sad can you get? Whilst this sensationalism continues we ignore real problems, such as the dire state of fashion these days. One only need look at the design of shirts this last decade, drabness personified. Also the uniform look of all fashions; “designer” worn out jeans and drab polo shirts. Yes we have a lot to fear. Not an overcrowded world, but a world that has no differences; same food, same clothes, same cars, same music. Same BRANDS. What a nightmare. So stop this crap. Who cares that Jordan has three tits! So what if David Beckham is screwing around. Who cares? Each village should have their own celebrity, who would be the bearer of local fashion, (iconography at home), that each locality could relate to. Let us kill off the brands with their complete boredom and lack of style and originality. Not sensationalism but individuality. Instead of international rules, each county has it's own rules for sport, driving laws, etc. lets go local.

Are you wide to……Irish Drunks?

Why is it that we as a nation, cannot sit down with a glass of wine or a bottle of beer and enjoy each others company? Why is it necessary for us to drink two litres of cider and/or vodka? Sure, its terrible fun drinking till you pass out and vomit a strange blueish yellow colour of liquid. My god, you look good when this happens. Well, maybe when your 16 and that rainbow of vomit signifies to everyone that, yes, you were drinking. You are the man.

Now, you’ve grown up. Have the lessons of years gone by been forgotten? Quite possible, considering your inability to regulate your devil juice intake. We still drink ourselves into a state of George Best type stupidity. Am I Guilty of such acts of lunacy? Of course I am. However, through the wisdom of the ages I have come to realise that stealing a traffic cone at 2 in the morning or falling asleep against a wheelie bin are not the be all and end all of a good nights fun. Maybe I'm old-fashioned that way.

If those of you who believe that a drunken stupor is the bees knees (really showing my age and geekiness here) then I suggest you film your exploits on your next adventure. I can guarantee that some modicum of shame will swell up inside you. That swell is shame....not vomit. The sight of yourself with your inhibitions in tatters and fighting over a spilled drink will not endear yourself to yourself. Also the sight of a doorman throwing you out for falling down the stairs and or accidentally head butting a lady on the dance floor ,should reinforce your desire to .maybe stay home next Saturday. Good idea.