Tag Archives: Queen of Darkness

I’m going to peel and salt Justin Bieber…

I’m going to be nice for a whole post. Stop laughing. I can do it. Alright, i probably can’t. So i’ll let the voices-outside-my-head do a post and i can go back to editing The Thing. (I’m two-thirds through the edit, for those following that thrilling saga.)

The last time the voices-outside-my-head did a post, it was New Year and i was going through my usual dislocated why-doesn’t-the-weather-match-the-Christmas-cards annual fugue, and the voices wished you joy in your life. I said you shouldn’t be fucktards. Both good bits of advice.

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Life can be an awful experience. No doubt about it. Bad things happen to good people and to bad ones, with no regard to who deserves it. No use getting stressed over it. Stress releases cholesterol into your blood stream, and it’s a fatty gunk that coats your arteries, and eventually blocks them. Use the energy to do something about what’s stressing you, but don’t just sit there.

It’s part of the old fight-or-flight-or-bugger-them-with-a-cactus reflex. The idea is you’ll burn that fat wielding your Cactus of Justice, or running away. If all you do is sit on your arse and shout, the way I do a lot, you’ll end up with high blood pressure, because your cloggy arteries are too small for the blood flow and your heart is over-worked. Oops, you just stroked out. (I’m not sure the voices should have let me type this, it’s much more cranky than they intended.)

Now, i don’t have high blood pressure, or high cholesterol, (any more), because i stopped worrying and learned to take joy in the moment. It’s not a permanent state, but it’s enough of the time that even with the extra weight i’m carrying, and my perpetual raging at the machine (on here and on Twitter), I’m not risking my life because i care.

Joy is where you find it. Watching nature, walking, cooking, making things, doing that perfect spreadsheet and knowing you’re going to make it financially through another month. Okay, so i’m not sure anyone but me gets that last one, but i totally love that feeling of being in the moment – i can get it washing up.

The big thing about the moment? Your brain is ostensibly off. You’re completely focused on the task in hand, even if that’s as simple as admiring the feather on a bird’s wing or that algebra formula.

You might be using your brain, focusing on some job, and the work might be hard, but you know you’re on the way to a goal, so it’s fine. And everything switches off. All worry, all care, all of it. You keep going, doing good work.

You come to, some time later. And often the solutions to problems are right there, as your ostensibly switched-off brain nutted out the answers while you were cleaning the silver.

We repeat. The word ‘enjoy’ means ‘with joy’ – so enjoy your life. Have it with joy. What else are you going to do with it? If you don’t like it, for most of us in the Western world at least, there are other solutions, like changing it.

You thought i was going to say ‘then top yourself if you don’t like it here’? Honestly, I’m the Antichrist, not a jingoistic right wing Earth patriot. I can imagine us in the future, snapping at alien immigrants the way the nasty little one nation types do. “If you don’t like this planet, then get off it!”

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That’s all, i can’t stand it. It goes against the grain, being nice. What with me being the Queen of Darkness and proxy Antichrist. New readers may be wondering how i got to be the Antichrist, and all i’m saying is that even the Antichrist turned out to respond to a good clout across the earhole with a walking stick, and is still in a coma. I have his passwords. Nuff said.

As for being the Queen of Darkness, that’s a much older story – when i used to be in a band, i was shouting about something i’d read about Christian fundamentalists, and said, “They’re so sure they’re on the side of Light. If that’s Light, then i’m the Queen of Darkness.” (Originally there was swearing, because it’s the only language muso’s understand.)

That was nearly 20 years ago, old news. The Antichrist gig is fairly new. But hey, i’m told i get to peel and salt the emos, and i can do what i like with Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga. At the moment, i’m edging towards using the Gleaming Instruments of Death, but maybe the Cactus of Justice would do the trick.

Oh come on, who doesn’t want to torture Justin Bieber to death? Just for the fringe, people! Just for the fringe!As for Lady Gaga, well seriously, does anyone neeed a reason? Her whole schtick of pseudo-vulnerability wrapped in emo pouting deserves divine retribution.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com

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Zen in the New Year…

Life goes on. Even for the Antichrist. Bought a tiny birdbath, ($35 for a terracotta one from Bunnings? Even i can afford that). Being treated to all kinds of parrot-play.

On hot days, i’ll top it up a few times, as they queue up to drink and swim, while the ones who can’t get in play in what’s splashed out. What, the Antichrist can’t have a birdbath?

A pair of lorikeets having a dipI did put that pic up on Twitpic a couple of weeks ago. It’s taken through the glass of the back wall, next to my desk. Should have had it on Sports, that’s just Through Glass – trusty Olympus Stylus 840 did well. I have a fantastic view usually, but since the birdbath it’s even better.

The lorikeets are just like people. Some don’t like getting their heads wet, others are afraid to let go of the edge. Some are like Aqua Parrot, dive in, soaking themselves, splashing, standing on their heads, and then flapping their wings in a rainbow ecstasy of joy. They all, no matter how wet they get, just love it. It’s hard not to get distracted.

Still, i figure it’s good to take a moment, observe joy, and hold it close to your heart. Let it fill you, and then share it with the world. Barring serious chemical imbalances, you always have a choice – to choose misery, or happiness.

I personally believe that choosing misery often enough means you can cause the chemical imbalances. I’ve seen too many people do it over the years. Choose to be happy, instead.

May joy find you in 2010.

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This post brought to you (so far) by the voices-outside-my-head, who are much nicer than moi. Me, for 2010, i hope you stop being a fucktard. That would be nice.

I hope you stop pretending politicians, the news, TV, the media generally, your religious leaders, and the people trying to sell you things, won’t lie to you. I don’t lie to you, but then i don’t need your vote, or your arse on a seat in the congregation – you see, that’s what the AK47’s are for.

I hope you start reading labels, and don’t fall for crap like “eco-friendly” when it’s made of polyurethane, or other petroleum derivatives. (Yes, i’m looking at you, supermarket “green” bag.)

Don’t believe “low GI” or “low fat” can be good for you, or your kids, when the product is 50% sugar. (Yes, chocolate hazelnut spread, kids’ chocolate cereals, and chocolate malt ‘energy drink’ marketed as low GI food for kiddies, i’m looking at you. )

Pay attention to words, dear Minions of Darkness Beloved Visitors. That’s where the meaning is, no matter what the litcrit crazies tell you. I hope you learn the difference between marketing and truth. Hint: one is not actually true.

Oh yeah, and i hope you have a good time. Choose fun. Tell anyone who asks, the Queen of Darkness made you do it. She’s the Antichrist, you can explain, and it lays the groundwork for your defence on insanity grounds. (And mine.)

Yep, providing the real Antichrist doesn’t come out of the coma before the Rapture, (and he won’t once i tap him on the head with a good length of heavy hickory), we’re set.

2010 is going to be an excellent year.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


I Am The Traffic Cone on Your Highway…

I detect a sense of Christmas obsession in those who accidentally visited this blog in the last week. Now (i think) i know why My House Is Trying To Kill Me (the old post on mould/mold) is getting so much traffic – it’s people looking for gingerbread.

I hope you enjoyed the rant on the stupidity of doctors, the cruelty of real estate agents, the possibly pertinent advice on health, and the pretty gingerbread house pic. At least i cited the pic’s origin, so they wouldn’t waste their time, and meanwhile, decuisine (where pic comes from) is getting a lot of hits from me. ‘Tis the season for giving, right?

I’m the Antichrist, this jolly Christmas bollocks doesn’t come naturally.

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Thought for the Day: Did you take time to muse on the exquisite cruelty of Google, that brings you interesting things to read when you really don’t have time to get distracted by a blog?

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The gingerbread thing is out of control out there…


Happy Birthday to Me

It’s been an interesting couple of weeks, at least virtually. I’ve had to block some people for being idiots on Twitter, not that it shut them up, but at least i didn’t have them on my main page – they were actually threatening to go cut themselves – eek, emo alert!

Unfortunately, the Twitter block function is imperfect. It doesn’t actually sodomise and then peel the person you aim it at. Wait, sodomy is more fun than they deserve… better make it sodomy with a cactus. And we could peel them with… well, this is what the Gleaming Instruments of Death were made for, maybe Twitter should call me.

Despite the fucktards,  i did get a popular blog post (see previous) out of the contretemps. (Popular for me does not mean millions… that one’s topped 200 on the bit.ly links, not best ever, but good.) I know this because I’ve been looking at my stats – world domination proceeds slowly but steadily, with occasional peaks when i get controversial.

Today is my birthday – yep, 49, which is too big a number to think about. Yes, 31st October, Halloween – seriously, what did you expect? Me being the Queen of Darkness wasn’t exactly an accident. Halloween is however, alien to my culture. Trick or treaters will be greeted with “It’s my birthday, where’s my present?” Funny, they all seem to run away when you put them on the spot.

While i’m waiting for the children to arrive, i thought i’d have a slight rant…

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Some of the top searches used to find this blog are:

pony, budgie, penectomy porn,  funny cats,  cameltoes and tattoos

It’s like i’ve been saying – Search Engine Optimisation Experts, Gurus, Entrepreneurs, and the rest of the people trying to flog you dead horses on Twitter are way behind me. Yes, not just eunuchs, budgies, camel toe, and tattoos, I’m getting a toehold in the “pony” market.

Hello little girls! Welcome! I was once like you. Longing for a pony of my own. For horses, i could and did get up at five a.m. to feed and groom, i mucked out stables and didn’t mind the heat, the cold, the rain, the smell of manure. I coped when horses bit, kicked, and trod on me.

I lived through them bucking me off, into lakes, rivers, trees, fences, and walls. With being wiped off on anything handy. With them getting over-excited and freaking out on a regular basis. I love horses, so it’s part of it.

It’s not some kind of privation – though of course one gets dusty, muddy, gashed, broken, bent, (this is because leather will imprint as one of your earliest sexual cues), and then thrown off into a prickle patch. It sounds awful, and no fun at all.

However, right now, crippled as i am, if you gave me a horse (and the wherewithal to keep it), i think i’d still happily drag myself out of bed at 5 am. There’s something about horses. I’m the same way with words. The infection lasted. “It’s just a stage she’s going through.” Nah, it was me. Who i am. I’ll always love horses and words. They bring me joy.

No matter how crap life is, just seeing a horse lifts my spirits. I can actually feel better about things if i just imagine being round them. I take myself riding, in my mind. I even feed and groom horses, saddle up, and pick out their feet. The familiar rhythms are all there, in my memories.

I start to write (when i’m not procrastinating, which doesn’t bring me joy, though it can be very productive in regard to getting anything but writing done), and as the words start to flow, i get a similar pleasure.

Some time ago, especially after an incident where in a short time, I had some rather close-to-death experiences, i decided to focus on what brings me joy. It’s not possible to completely avoid that which doesn’t, as i’m unfortunately trapped here on Earth with you humans – but i can certainly wipe out the effects of the dire.

Things like good whole food, being near water, and letting writing be a full time pursuit. I see horses most days, some live on the way to the shops. The food’s tricky, here in the sticks – it was easier to get good meat in suburban London. I used to go to the local Halal (Islamic) butcher when i lived in West Hampstead (though he was over the border in Kilburn). I wonder now if they’re still there. They were nice, even to me, a bare-armed, bare-headed, infidel woman.

Most people are just people, you know. Governments and religious leaders like to focus on the differences between us – divide and rule is their basic policy. Just note how many times they try to make you scared – but frankly, good people come in every colour, religion, and sexuality.

Complete maggots likewise. Of course, most people think their actions are justified. Let’s face it, even Hitler didn’t set out to be evil, he thought he was doing Germany and the world a favour. He thought it was logical. That exterminating human beings was inhumane didn’t matter, because he’d already decided – these were not humans.

Once you dehumanise your enemy, it’s easier for your people to kill them. One of the main problems for soldiers is that in order to keep killing, they have to see the enemy as less than human. We’re not actually designed for murder. With some exceptions.

See, i don’t see the Devil as some kind of external influence – i think we’re all creatures of duality – we’re all capable of both beauty and horror. Which one you manifest, is up to you. If you let yourself be filled up with rage, hate, and insecurity, if your entire life revolves around getting others to pay attention to your attention whoring, then hell, sugar, i’m going to block you on Twitter.

We all have these things inside us – i choose to manifest mine as funny blog posts. Not all of it – there’s a heck of a lot of energy i can use there. The poison others send me can be deflected, returned, or i can use the energy for something constructive, that brings me joy.

So i write. By the way – did you see? Someone found this blog while looking for “funny cats” – oh yeah, baby, i’m into Lolcat territory on Google Search.

Weez gonna be hooj.

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In other news: in The Thing i am writing – the hero needed to be older – he was having sex, and i figured 13 was too young. Weirdly, i was basing his history on several people i know, but sometimes, fiction has to be toned down from real life.

I also discovered – once i’d stopped, corrected all references to age, adjusted his language and others’ behaviour to him – that i’d forgotten to note the timing of events in the narrative on a calendar, so i knew for instance, how long it was since his birthday. Then i realised one of the characters had broken the plot, so I’m currently sorting that. Silly bugger died before his time.

There’s a lot to keep track of, lucky i do love spreadsheets. I still refer to my synopses, outlines, and summaries of this first bunch of books, which i drew up using the Snowflake Method. They need tweaking of course, as the narrative changes, but that’s okay, there’s elasticity built in.

Tip: every so often, I save each current document or spreadsheet (if was Book01) as 02, then 03 and so on. This is in case you mess up and need to go back to a previous version. You can also use Word’s version tracker, which saves versions within a single document. In case of accidental deletion of single documents, i like to keep separate copies.

I once inserted an image over an entire document i had no copy of – so yes, i’m paranoid.

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On the longer list of searches –

  • why smugglers
  • my house is trying to kill me
  • switchblade and a motorbike
  • realistic mannequins with pubic genital
  • i am not a whore

Why smugglers? I am not a whore? (The others make sense, blog titles or  I’ve blogged on them.)

And SEO experts want you to pay to get listed on Google? Lord above, with the way it works, how can you not be listed? Of course, you may not be listed under what you want to be.

I suppose Beloved Visitors might be miffed, if they arrive looking for penectomy porn and find me instead. On the other hand, thinking about it, the Queen of Darkness, with a bullwhip and a cattleprod, ready to run over you with a tank if you don’t donate to the Hello Kitty Kalashnikov Office Chair Fund, is probably just the woman you’re looking for.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Celebrity Fish Battle with Robson Green

[Sadly, the pic company i was using stopped providing WordPress users with pics – so i lost most of the original pics for this post]

Yes, i often sound insane, but the difference is, Beloved Visitors, being the Queen of Darkness is merely eccentricity – and being the Antichrist was just a lucky break. (The real Antichrist  met with an Unfortunate Accident and is still in a coma.) However, every so often, i run into the genuinely loopy on Twitter or around the traps.

Laugh at my jokes... or die.

Laugh at my jokes... or die.

Not to worry, i know what to do. This usually involves getting away from them quickly. One does not engage with those escaped from asylums. What, did you think i’d hang around? Feck, i really do have better things to do, even if it’s scratching my arse.

No sense wasting one’s time with the truly hopeless: those who enjoy and promote their victimhood, (“Come watch me cut myself on cam!”) or are so paranoid they can’t even hear what you say to them. Better just to block.

However, the other night i wasn’t expecting insanity, i wasn’t even online. I was watching the actor Robson Green, on his show “Extreme Fishing”. He’s completely huge in Britain, where i lived for a while, I’m not sure about the rest of the world. His show is airing here on Lifestyle on pay-tv, not either Discovery or National Geographic. Fitting for a man known as the “housewives’ favourite”.

Probably need to say here that I don’t have a problem with either fishing or hunting (even on tv) – however, i do have a teensy problem with gratuitous cruelty.

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I watched a bit of “Extreme Fishing” last week, enjoyed Green’s obvious pleasure and excitement, but was left uneasy, as it didn’t appear he was killing any of the fish after catching them. This week he was in the Deep South of the USA. We thought we’d give it another go, but it was hard, as fish after fish was pulled out of water in various ways, before being dropped somewhere to die slowly.

One memorable sequence was bow-fishing: a large fish was reeled in with an arrow through the belly, then the arrow yanked out. Green holds the fish up, saying his  piece to camera. The fish gasps, over and over, trying to breathe, sides heaving. Look how beautiful it is, the man says, his tone loving. The camera pans along the body, we see the fish’s mouth moving silently. Look at those colours, Green exhorts us.

We can’t help seeing the way it’s gasping desperately for air, and the bloody hole in its side that I could fit a finger through. Green sings the praises of the fish as he slings it, still gasping, into a box with other dead and dying fish. The cameraman moves, to make sure we see it in the box, and the lid closes on the slowly-dying fish. Pan to grinning Robson Green.

Tip: fish will taste better if you kill it immediately, and don’t stress it unnecessarily. It’s already been through being caught. If it’s badly wounded, you have to kill it now.  Otherwise, if it’s just been hooked, put it in water until you’re ready to kill it.

It wasn’t Robson Green’s casual cruelty that did for us. In a different segment, we were treated to the sight of another member of the party, (a self-proclaimed hunter and killer) shooting at a waterfowl (a duck?) with a rifle from thirty feet.

The bird was an easy target, still on the water. The American missed, shot again, winged the bird, and shot again, possibly killing it, but the camera cut away. Too gory even for “Extreme Fishing”? Gawd.

We switched over. You don’t shoot sitting ducks. Birds are shot on the wing, and with a shotgun. For those who don’t know, no sports shooter would ever shoot a bird on the water – aside from being unsporting, you can’t eat anything that’s been shot a rifle, you destroy the meat.

The supposed experts accompanying Mr Green weren’t fishermen or hunters, they were just brutal and sickeningly inefficient killers. Not only that, but the supposed bow-fishing experts didn’t even know basic bow skills: how to draw a bow; or about forearm guards,  so the bowstring won’t snap against your skin.

This isn’t just one woman’s opinion, by the way. Mr Whatsit is a happy hunter (with bow and rifle) and fisherman, but he couldn’t watch it either. “Knock it on the head!” he kept shouting at the tv.

I found the Twitter account of the show @extreme_fishing while this was going on. All the @extreme_fishing tweets and the name are in italics from here on, and my @stinginthetail nick and tweets are in ordinary text.

Note – if the post says stinginthetail @extreme_fishing – it means it’s me, talking to them. I had no idea it was actually Robson Green tweeting. I figured I would phrase it as if i was talking to him, in case they passed it on – and of course, on Twitter, one has only 140 characters to make one’s point…

stinginthetail @extreme_fishing ffs, put the fish down, mate – whack on the head, kill it, don’ t throw live into cooler. Disgusting leaving them to die.

It wasn’t abusive, was it? I did say ffs (for fuck’s sake), but i didn’t call him names. I wanted to make clear that I didn’t mind fishing, but humane kill, please.

The “mate” is an Aussie thing – especially when we’re trying to appeal to the reason of a supposed adult – i didn’t really think about using it, just did. A little bit later – after the duck incident when we turned off for good,  i tweeted again, this time so my followers would see it…

stinginthetail had to switch off @extreme_fishing – letting live fish die slowly – and birds. Partner who is hunter couldn’t watch either. Sickening.

I was surprised the next morning when I received a reply from someone claiming to be Robson Green – i’m still not sure if he read both tweets from me – but according to the tweet stream, the account is managed by the actor himself, not any production company. I didn’t have time to be starstruck…

extreme_fishing @stinginthetail Remember Im observing and not imposing or projecting an opinion. The war in iraq…That’s sickening! Get fucking a life!

This seemed a little over the top, but it occurred to me he hadn’t seen the first tweet, only the second – besides from the number of exclamation marks I guessed i’d caught him at a bad time. So i replied politely, as  some of my best friends have been people where we’ve got off on completely the wrong foot, but being reasonable adults, we’ve found common ground…

stinginthetail @extreme_fishing letting fish die is still sickening – i like fishing, but kill the fish, don’t leave to die. Whack it on the head. Simple.

I was a bit taken aback by his attitude, and figured some of my followers might find the exchange entertaining, so i said…

stinginthetail i’m surprised at the actor Robson Green, didn’t think was rude RT @extreme_fishing The war in iraq…That’s sickening! Get fucking a life!

Provocative? Possibly, but i was being flamed, and i felt like company. Then i read his tweet again, and was struck by something…

stinginthetail @extreme_fishing btw you’re not an observer, yr shooting & hooking then happily throwing in ice chest to die slowly – that’s involved.

I still couldn’t understand why he was so against hitting a fish on the head when he was quite happy to shoot it in the belly. His next reply shed no light but showed the over-punctuation was no fluke…

extreme_fishing @stinginthetail You have a remote control? use it! But thanks for the debate!

Erm – debate involves exchanging opinions, and defending one’s position or point of view.

stinginthetail @extreme_fishing it’s not debate when you can’t justify your cruelty to animals, mate – and thanks, i used the remote last night.

I figured that was it. I was so wrong. That time, i used “mate” a bit snappily, he’d been steadily rude.

extreme_fishing @stinginthetail Would love 2 take you 2 Ginae Bissau Africa so you can impose your uninformed rhetoric to starving children. Im not yr mate

I burst out laughing. This couldn’t be real. Was he taking the piss? Where was Ginae Bissau? Google said i meant Guinea Bissau – one of the poorest countries in Africa. Was it even Robson Green? Had i missed something? Was it a joke profile? I’ve been fooled by those before. However, if it was him…

stinginthetail @extreme_fishing lmao – starving kids, iraq war? are you nuts? what else wld u like to defend yr cruelty with? not as bad as the holocaust?

The reply was educational, as he gave up on some punctuation and took up CAPS….

extreme_fishing @stinginthetail Taking a fish out of its enviroment is like placing a polythene bag over a marathon runners head. You need to STOP fishing!

Huh? Marathon runners, starving children and the war in Iraq? Had he completely confused my tweets with someone else’s? I checked who was tweeting at him. I was pondering again if he thought i was anti-fishing, and if this was all some kind of misunderstanding.

I’m not really into flame wars. If someone’s totally against me and can’t discuss the matter without shouting, what’s the point? I don’t have a penis i need to wave around, so frankly all that wannabe alpha male posturing is a bit pointless.

Yeah, sure, I talk about killing (when i’m premenstrual), but have I ever done it? You’re still alive. See? And if i did kill you, I would make it quick. Though after this, for Mr Green i’m prepared to make an exception.

Still figuring to give him the benefit of the doubt, though not sure why by now. I decided that humane killing was an important concept to grasp, especially for someone whose fishing series is showing all over the world. After all, it’s not like he’s from a country where they have no animal rights. The British care more about animals than they do about children.

Again, as he still showed no sign of actually reading my tweets, I tweeted, repeating what i’d said, so politely it astonishes me when i read it now…

stinginthetail @extreme_fishing before u go completely troppo, you’re missing the point – i am not anti fishing – i suggested you kill after catching.

Ha. What kind of fool am i? It seems there is no such thing as reason where Mr Green is concerned. Though he showed an interest in the etymology of language. This is actually something that fascinates us (me, Her Majesty, and the voices)…

extreme_fishing @stinginthetail No, you are a hypocrit as soon as a fish takes it is in trauma! FACT. SO SURELY THAT’S CRUEL.? Troppo is that Australian?

Takes it? The bait, i assumed. He was over-punctuating bad, and the CAPS were multiplying, never a good sign. Good Lord, what does he think entering an abattoir does to a cow? I’m not a hypocrite over meat – I know it’s not always produced in the most humane ways, but when it’s down to just me, i’ll do my damnedest to be humane.

Weirdly, i didn’t feel like pausing to explain to the joys of ‘English as she is spoke in Orstraylyah’ to my new cobber, but that didn’t stop the tirade….

extreme_fishing @stinginthetail Would love to take you people who dislike the show on my next trip to Japan. That will REALLY float your boat.x

I liked the show – up until he tweeted me, i even liked him. I couldn’t stand the fish and the duck being tortured. (Want to make absolutely clear, it wasn’t Robson Green shooting the duck, or whatever that bird was, it was one of the people he was touting as ‘experts’.)

So he’s looking forward to Japan again so he can be really cruel to animals? Is he going to participate in that annual dolphin massacre? Go whaling? And what was the x on the end? It looked sinister. A kiss? Like the Mafia do? A typo? And “you people”?

If this was a normal person with capitals and lots of punctuation, (and not an actor), what would i do? I replied to the tweet about fish and marathon runners in plastic bags (i was behind by that time) and bowed out…

stinginthetail @extreme_fishing all the more reason to make its end quick? This isn’t debate, this is u shouting inanities. And this is me blocking you.

The question mark was because i was still at that stage trying to decode the tweet,  (or any of them), and was guessing at what he meant. When i went to his profile to block him, he was still going on…

extreme_fishing @stinginthetail It was about fresh fish flesh 4 people who have no fridges. As u know as soon as the fish is killed the meat starts to turn

Erm, what century was he now in? Did he think the South had no electricity? With some trepidation,  a couple of hours later, i looked to see if he’d stopped shouting….

extreme_fishing @stinginthetail Ive just come back from filming Guinae Bissau after supplying a village with fresh fish so they could EAT! You fucking Moron

I’m a fucking moron, because he didn’t read my tweets, was abusive, and committed several crimes against English whilst shouting at me, a total stranger, on Twitter? I suppose it makes perfect sense, if he has a persecution complex. You can see where we’re heading, right? However, thanks so much, Mr Green.

If you’re going to call me a fucking moron in a public forum, then on my blog i could call you a stupid twat, or maybe even a conceited wanker. That seems fair. Nasty little git with a chip on your shoulder and delusions of grandeur?

Still, at least i finally figured out what the “starving kids in Africa” reference was about.

POSSIBLE EXPLANATION:

(of sorts – warning, based on Robson Green’s tweets and the Lolcat Bible in a very vague way – it’s only short, you’ll live through a little lolspeak.)

An actor called Robson Green thinks he’s Bono from U2 Bob Geldof Baby Jebus!

He duz fishez for the multitudes, and they iz tugging forelocks saying, “U gave us fud. We iz your grateful disciples nao, we can haz worship of u, Baby Jebus?”

Even Basement Cat iz impressed, because Jesus Robson Green had totally pwned him. Even when Jesus Robson Green wuz tempted, and offered lobster by Basement Cat, he was like, no want!

Ceiling Cat was all, “Woa, u iz so kewl, mah son. Much respect. Can haz crucifixion!”

Take your hat off, you in the back, show some fucking respect for the Messiah! (Yes, i’m going to stop referring to Ceiling Cat, it’s alright.)

******

Meanwhile, in true Queen of Darkness style, *shines fingernails* I’ve blocked the Messiah on Twitter. A meal for some starving Africans, how sweet of him. He tries so hard. I don’t suppose it occurred to him that they might need feeding more often than when he happens to drop in on a fishing trip.

Poor Jesus always was behind the times. We’re talking about a man whose own father abandoned his mother, then wouldn’t get him a lawyer, so he has major issues. Jesus, of course, not Robson Green. Seriously.

I did some research, and found that Jesus made assertions on UK breakfast tv that “90% of fish caught by coarse anglers in Britain die”, which the coarse anglers are a trifle miffed over (they let their catches go, and if all of the releases died, Britain would literally have no fish at all). Wait, no that was actually Robson Green.

So every angling organisation in the UK (and anywhere else) is probably encouraging its members to boycott his fishing show – the British Angling Trust is. Other folk i saw online had criticised his less-than-humane methods, and of course, he said there were more of ‘you people’.

I’m guessing they don’t know Mr Green is the Messiah, and that not watching the show is like handing your soul over to Satan. Believe in Robson Green, and lo, ye shall be saved… or get a fish dinner.

So i guess i walked into someone else’s argument there.

****

In case you’re reading this, Mr Green, (or your lawyers are) ‘troppo’ is an Australianism and means someone’s gone nuts from some aspect of the tropics: the heat, the cicadas, the rainy season, etc. “He’s gone troppo” would be correct usage. It dates from when Australian troops were fighting in the Pacific during World War Two.

I suppose in your case it might just be the messiah complex making you look as if you’ve gone troppo. When it comes to nailing yourself to the cross – having watched a few people do it – here’s a tip.

Have someone standing by to do the last nail, it’s a bugger. Or course, i’d be happy to lend a hand, one with a hammer in it. Or we could set fire to you, i love the scent of burning martyr.

Come on, it will be fun!

******

In my research, i discovered Jesus Christ’s Robson Green’s middle name is Golightly. Wow, imagine being named after Audrey Hepburn (Holly Golightly in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”), and growing up in the north of England in the 60’s and 70’s?

******

Oh, in case, in his hysteria, Robson Green thinks i’m serious,
and accuses me of actually making death threats, this note is for the Feds.
It’s a joke. I am not really that interested in the guy.

I just reckon he’s behaved like a twat, and i’m allowed to say so.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Now Contains Added Bacon!

In other news – the Invasion of Queensland ’09™ has become the Invasion of Queensland ’09 ’10™… probably after mid-year. Which is annoying, but these things are sent to try us. And i know by whom.

God better watch out when i get to Heaven, i am going to nail the bastard’s scrotum to the wall. Another year (possibly that long) in New South Wales? Arrggh.

And i had tshirts made!

I go with what's popular

I go with what's popular

Sadly, Queensland is a bit like Jerusalem – warm, infested with terrorists tourists, you should be able to find a Kosher butcher, and it’s been put off until next year. Lack of funds mainly.

Extreme bummer, and ironic – we had an offer of free rent for a few months that would have enabled us to save some money. Ah well, these things happen. If i discern a reason, God’s Holy Hand Grenades get a reprieve.

Meanwhile, i’m trapped in New South Wales. *heavy sigh* And sooner or later someone  – who didn’t like me being critical over the weather or my paddles in the shallow end of the Central Coast gene pool – will recognise me and try to stone me to death.

Probably as i wander lost in The Wilderness (AKA Erina Fair, biggest shopping centre between Sydney and Queensland). It’s tough being the Antichrist.

I’ll just have to take over this state first. I can’t be bothered waiting until we can invade Queensland. So, the revolution begins.

I  suppose if i had a new tank, especially one with air-con, *hint hint* i might be persuaded to pop down, massacre every Sydney celeb that i can find – except those in my Twitter list. I promise by the #cultofmarkpesce (a strange, sweater-loving cult) not to hurt Mark Pesce.

However, Kyle Sandilands will be first to the wall. I reckon that ‘shock jock’ should be rebranded – ideally in the middle of the forehead with a hot iron – how does “famous for being a wanker” sound?

****

Reading back, i note this is the second blog in a row where i’ve mentioned nailing someone’s genitalia. Though abusing God’s is a new one. I’ll probably find i’m wrong, and “How many of God’s testicles can dance on the head of a pin?” was a common theme for debate in your average Middle Ages monastery. Or nunnery.

Genital abuse could be a theme, or maybe a motif. It could symbolise something. Like me wanting to kill things. I think this is part of being a real writer. “Oooh, ‘ark at her, a motif. Ain’t we la-de-dah?” It’s alright, that was just a voice from inside my head, we don’t pay attention to those.

I could use a staple-gun instead? For Kyle’s boy bits. Would that be more humane? I think i’d enjoy stapling parts of Kyle to a backboard far too much for my own good.

It might be tricky, him being so obviously over-compensating for lack of oomph. (Yes, that is a euphemism, for me being very rude.) Wait, didn’t one of the Hooker Dolls for PrePubescents ® come with her own Professional Dungeon & Dominatrix kit? Or did i dream that?

*sound of whispering*

Aw, shame, because there was a tiny staple-gun in the equipment,
the  perfect size.

****

I was distracted from such happy thoughts by these figures just to hand. Beloved Visitors can be divided, those whose country of origin can be discerned, and those who can’t. Why do you hide from me, preciouses?

About half of you, i know where you come from. Don’t panic! Only your country, nothing more. I landed on one site yesterday that had a groovy widget that said the latest visitor, (i.e. me), came from  “Budgewoi NSW” and swung the animated globe to where i am and zoomed in.

It was just someone’s blog, but I found myself wanting to hide under the desk and pull the curtains, in case a Google Earth van pulled up outside. Talk about scaring the Beloved Visitors. I don’t want to make anyone nervous like that.

However, I need more. I’m hooked on having minions slaves Beloved Visitors.

****

There is only one thing for it – i’m going to have to spread my market demographic. We have eunuchs, budgerigar fanciers, those pining for ponies,  toaster sex aficionados, and the occasional lost soul who seems to be looking for me, or possibly God.

I’m trapped in this deity niche, i need to diversify my appeal. No problem, we already have sex, religion, politics, what else is everyone into?

****

We need more junk food, everyone likes junk food – i need to put in more pies, pizza, beer, and bacon. At the same time, by mentioning low fat, i’ll automatically pull in dieters. Oh, how fickle are search engines.

I found out what a corn dog was the other day – America, your shame is exposed. It’s fat and pigs’ lips, poached in oil. Okay, so technically, it’s a hot dog sausage, encased in corn batter and fried.

Anyway, i need more fat and beer – or at least the blog does. Tea and crumpets are not enough. Marmalade does not feed the man inside. I need some of that cheese that comes in a can in case there are people who don’t get cheese.

I should probably have a sausage sizzle. (No, that’s not a euphemism. Aussie tradition to earn some money, serve cheap eats, outside some shopping centre: sausages and fried onion in bun or bread with sauce.)

Note to self: stop scaring away men by talking about sex. Probably hold off the genital nailing until they get used to the castrations. If i really am serious about spreading my appeal, we need less about me getting the trains to run on time, and more about “Beers for all my friends!”

This blog’s been too low fat, except for the butter on the crumpets. There’s been hardly any booze, and not enough ball games. Unless stapling them counts?

ZOMG! I could staple bacon to Kyle! Woot, pork-on-pork action! “Baybee, we can haz hot secs nao?”

I don’t know who said that, everyone’s saying it was the other guy. I suspect the voices-outside-my-head, because they’re more into puns. I have a better idea.

We could race local wannabe’s like Kyle and his sidekick Jackie O (who makes Paris Hilton look classy), along the Opera House steps. Ooh, we can use Rove, of course.  MacManus and Karl. The Aussie one AND the US one, why not? (Is the US one a cool guy? Cos he doesn’t have to die if you speak up now.)

Celebrity racing, with bacon, uh-huh.
I can see it – nude except for bacon loincloths.

We know what you want...

We know what you want...

The bacon’s just because everyone, no matter what socio-economic bracket, loves bacon. Liberal, Labor, Green, or People Even More Crazy Than Me, out here on the lonely Anarchist Monarchist fringes of polite politics. Me and Al Gore, we both pine to be queen.

Republican or Democrat – even if bacon is your shame – you love it. Bacon’s your guilty secret. And if we staple it to celebrities, sharks will be able to eat them without gagging.

And it occurs to me, i haven’t been instilling enough fear in the populace. I think my new TV show, Shark Versus Wanker, will do the trick.

****

Message to presenters: you will present the show, not yourself, thanks, or we will staple bacon to you.

A special invited audience will throw rotten meat as you run past, then are cattle-prodded dive jauntily into Sydney Harbour. Oh, how we will laugh as you try to make it to the Heads.

Jackie O would look très cute with a few bits of bacon
stapled to her chihuahua (that’s a euphemism).

the next big game show idea

the next big game show idea "Not Waving, But Sharkbait"

I will be chumming the water with fishguts and cheering on the Sydney Harbour Bull Sharks. These are real sharks, not actually a team, but I think it would be HUGE. Yes, there will be cheerleaders from all the major football teams to chase into the water – for a small fee you even get your own cattleprod.

Before someone gets pedantic, that’s a Great White in the picture – it was taken in a studio, with makeup, and Cedric is just pretending to be a bull shark. Cedric is 8 metres (26 feet) long, and normally prefers colder waters. But for Kyle, he says he’ll make an exception.

And of course, that’s Kyle Sandilands to Cedric’s left, pretending to be a human being. Yes, Kyle’s head IS to scale. Don’t forget, no sentient creatures would be harmed in the making of this new gameshow, and we’d dispose of a pollutant. It’s a win:win.

Of course the celeb’s will be in it – look how much money Michael Jackson and Elvis have made since they became dead for tax reasons. Besides, Kyle will do anything if there’s a media pack there.

Excuse me, i think i follow his agent on Twitter,
i have to run before someone else pitches this.

****

What’s Toaster Sex? Sex with household appliances.
Gosh, i need to explain? Just remember to hold onto the cord.
And obviously, to unplug it first.

Here, i’ve blogged about it before. I even had Charlton Heston soliciting gay Hummer sex. (Yes, that’s with a car, men always like cars more than something out of the kitchen.)

If you’d like to see more pretty toaster sex pics, try here too.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


I’m a Premenstrual Feminazi from Hell

Edit: 22nd Sept 09 – for some reason this post is showing as the 9th 7th Sept, it wasn’t posted then but on the 21st. Short of deleting it and reinserting in the right place, it’s always going to be one post out of whack. It should be after Editors are like Elephants, not before. Yeah, i think my whole blog has gone blonde.

****

Warning:

contains explicit stupidity, frank sexual discussion,
offensive attitudes to religion, &
signs of contempt for married people who cheat.

There will be clitorises. Should that be clitorii? It’s the Great Penises Versus Penii Debate all over again. (Most of that was between me and the voices-outside-my-head.) I’m not trying to get you excited, and frankly, if explicit stupidity makes you hot, you need therapy.

I’m going to generalise heaps. This is a rant. *hands out the polarised goggles and the breathing apparatus* I’ll wait until everyone is comfy. Help yourself to bikkies.

*holds up sign that says FORESKIN*

If that made you blush in real life, probably better to go away now. *Nails foreskin to wall* What? It was a trophy foreskin, you’re supposed to do that. The name fooled you, right? You thought me being the Queen of Darkness was ironic? *raises eyebrow* Only partly.

On with the show…. who wants to be  Despot for the Day? Ha, just kidding.
As if any of you get to have a turn. Me me ME.

Oops, just a moment, i need to reset something.
*turns ego down to stun*

********

Meanwhile, “Australia’s leading criminologist” thinks online scams are now so bad, new computer users should have to pass a computer licence, certifying their ability to surf the net safely, before being legally able use their internet connection. I suppose some education is better than none, but I don’t happen to agree with his assumption “…that education [is] secondary to better technology solutions.”

Call me crazy, or even heretical – go on, you know you want to, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy – but I quite like the idea of educating people about net safety, or even religion.

I say do this instead of encouraging them to be stupider, and instead of expecting them to rely completely on technology or God to protect them, which Science or the Divine – whichever god you believe in – cannot do.

However, as the Antichrist, so not  a subscriber to normal ideas of Good Vs. Bad or even In-Between – i have at least some of the answers to keeping safe on the net, and for finding happiness – it’s alright, nothing religious, we’re going to achieve Nirvana-in-the-moment through sex.

Strap yourselves in. Or on. Whatever.

********

In the interests of safety & education –

Her Majesty Presents:

Ten Rules of Internet Survival
& Seven Sundry Hints

Rule 1: the only thing that will make your penis permanently bigger is surgery. No pumping device will do it. Drugs or herbs will have zero effect.

********

What do you mean you’re shocked that i’m talking about penii and clitorii – wait, no, that just sounds wrong – and i already embarrassed you with that foreskin? There’s cunnilingus, erections, and sex coming up.

I said this was going to happen. Run, while you still can. Before you turn into a Minion of Evil Beloved Visitor.

A minion is not a Bad Thing – well, some meanings are a trifle negative, –  obsequious, servile, and subordinate are never going to be an easy sell – but after that it’s “One who is highly esteemed or favored; a darling” from the French mignon meaning darling.

i was having an 80's moment

i was having an 80's moment

(Did you know, on Mozilla Firefox, you can have a browser plug-in that puts Dictionary.com’s Dictionary, Thesaurus, and Reference sections up where the Google search is? Uber cool.)

Anyway, miniondom, what is it? You only have to read the blog and cope with my wittering on Twitter. It’s not a difficult gig being a minion these days. Well, actually, it might be. I can be prolific at times. Be brave!

********

handy hint:# 1 Instead of falling prey to shysters who can’t enlarge your manhood, learn to use your tongue and your fingers, that’s what most women want.

Do it instead of whining to strangers online about how you can’t hold an erection or how your penis is too small. Men actually do this – why? Wait, is this another one of those things that i think everyone experiences, but it’s really just me? I’m too approachable – I know, i know.

So, regarding your penis – like salespeople everywhere, internet salespeople like to prey on your lack of self-esteem. Especially where men are concerned, they’re hoping to exploit that niggling worry that a majority have, that their women are sexually dissatisfied because the man’s penis is too small or not hard enough.

This shows a staggering lack of knowledge about most women, what makes them happy, and how they orgasm. Yes, i know some size queens, but they’re a minority.

Sadly, I’d say a majority of women are dissatisfied with their sex lives and relationships (from what they tell me, and in my own experience with men), which brings us to …

********

Rule 2: hours of  Mister Snorty pretending to be the Loch Ness Monster are not really what most women want.

Corollary: Being rogered to death is only fun once.

When you were twenty and could actually perhaps stay hard for hours without pills, the women you were with were probably too polite – or ignorant about what felt good – to say they’d prefer some touching instead of you just banging away like that.

Viagra may make you feel like the Wang Overlord of Zorg – and Mister Snorty like Daddy’s Little Rhino – but most women don’t reach orgasm that way. They need clitoral stimulation. (Most means 60-80% of them – while personally, enjoying intercourse.)

Consider branching out into radical concepts like not viewing every person you meet as a series of receptacles for Mister Snorty’s emissions.

********

Rule 3: this should probably be number 1, but you have not won the lottery.

Nor is some bank official, family member of an overthrown government, or other telling you they want your bank details because then they can send you millions of dollars. They won’t.

This is called the Nigerian Scam, but the letters now come from every country in the world.

********

Rule 4: You have also not been carefully selected to receive a special offer.

Unless by carefully selected they mean “you said in some form you filled out online you liked X so we’re now trying to sell you something tentatively X-related.” Usually, they mean “your email was on a list we hacked from somewhere.”

********

Rule 5: She doesn’t love you.

People do meet online and translate that into a real life loving relationship, or even a hot date – however women writing to men can be divided into two kinds – women looking for visas or money, and men looking to fleece you.

The gorgeous Eastern Bloc, African, or Asian girl is usually a man sending you messages, and he is looking for –

  • someone stupid enough to give their credit card numbers.
  • someone silly enough to wire money.
  • a complete fucktard who will do both.

Australian men keep getting caught by this (as do men worldwide). Some even manage to reach the coveted ultra-fucktard status – when you’re dumb enough to go to Africa to meet your ‘love’ without some serious research first.

I googled “west australian man africa internet kidnap” looking for one i’d heard of, who spent some time chained to a toilet in Africa while his kidnappers tried to screw a ransom out of his family, and discovered a Belgian and a South Australian man also suckered in the same way.

Internet romance without any real life quotient (especially before any real life quotient) can be summed up in one word – fantasy. It can also be overwhelming, because you’re free to hang your fantasy love object banner on them – and because there’s no real life to bring you down.

Real love comes from real life – real contact – before you get there, you’re just perceiving an online persona. If you’re in love with anything, you’re in love with something that doesn’t actually exist.

handy hint: #2 You do know, when the woman you pay for sex tells you what a great lover you are, she really does say that to all the boys?
Corollary: This includes those you pay for:
online bdsm (kink), real life bdsm, phonesex, or cybersex.

Watch out for people who need money for operations, desperate trips to see their dying mother, or to pay crucial bills and the like.

People like me, who want new office chairs or decent chocolate biscuits in the Bikkie Jar of Doom, you can give us all your money without a qualm.

You can trust me, I'm egotistical.

You can trust me, I'm egotistical.

Which makes a pretty neat segue into…

********

Rule 6: there are fakes on the net.

People do meet from the net, and do fall in love/become friends with alarming regularity. I’ve met 100’s of genuine people in real life, in the decade and a bit i’ve been on the net. (No, i didn’t shag them all. One needs chemistry.)

On ‘dating sites’, many of the ‘women’ can be men, hoping that this way they can at least get cybersex. If you were a woman, you’d be alerted by things like “i’m just shaving my clit for you, baby”, (quote from a wannabe woman in an open chat room), whereas the guy she met at a city railway station was SO surprised when a man turned up.

Handy Hint #3: the hair doesn’t grow right on the clitoris, boys.

These men pretending to be women or to be part of couples think you’re so desperate, that any sex will be alright. “Men give better oral to men, right?”

********

Rule 7: the net isn’t full of hot women who will meet you for sex without even seeing a picture of your face. Unless they charge by the half-hour or are infected with something you really don’t want to catch. They aren’t usually hot.

Corollary: An astonishing number of men however, are totally available right now for anything with orifices. Yes, an octopus or a hole in the wall would probably do most of them.

Handy hint #4: Practise safe sex.

Here’s something cheerful. Via the internet, I’ve met a number of  men, (I’m talking about hetero and bi ones not gay men), shagged a few of them, and chatted to 1,000’s – around the world over a decade or so. With probably only a handful of exceptions, when safe sex was discussed, they thought it was optional.

These were men on dating, kink, and  swinger sites – some were wanting one night stands, others relationships – and not just the men, the women too. In cases where sexual liaisons lasted more than one night, most people stopped using condoms after the first few times, convinced they could tell if a person had something unpleasant.

Y’all know, HIV infection doesn’t show any signs, sometimes for 20 years? Neither do many sexually-transmitted diseases. People can be carriers of herpes and various kinds of Hepatitis without knowing at all.

One man rationalised not getting checked even after he found out his wife was having an affair as – he knew the man, and was pretty sure the man was only doing his wife plus his own wife. Wasn’t as if it was someone she picked up in a bar.

People are strange. Which brings us to…

********

Rule 8: dating sites have amazing numbers of married people cheating.

If you suss them out, they’ll often say, while pretending to urbanity, “She knows i have a higher sex drive than she has, and doesn’t mind me looking elsewhere.”

Wow, doesn’t he sound just like Hugh Hefner? And Hef’s such a model of what women want.

Seriously, with all the men on adult dating sites claiming that they’re allowed to cheat – if this many women were so casual over who their man had sex with, we would know about it.

Handy hint #5 men will lie for sex, married men more so.
Corollary: Women lie too.

Apparently divorce is illegal now, (everywhere in the world), otherwise why would all these people be saying, “I love him/her but he/she doesn’t understand my sexual needs so i’m justified in seeking them elsewhere. No, i can’t divorce *pious glance to heaven* for the sake of the children.”

Oh, what a poor suffering victim he/she is. Have we mentioned, to beware professional victims?

Married-people-cheating tell you this claptrap because they want to be covered in case you get the wrong idea, and think that them saying, “I love you! You’re my dream, my one and only, the person i’ve waited for all my life!” means more than “Damn! You could suck a golfball through a garden hose! That’s a talent!”

I’ve been fooled by married people who claimed their relationships were over , and that they were now in love with me.  They weren’t.

They only loved their own penises.

*********

Rule 9: your bank did not send that email.

Nor did Paypal, or any other site you’ve used your credit card in or you have a bank account with. Do not click that link in the email – it’s a fake site that wants to harvest your account passwords.

To minimise this kind of email ending up somewhere where you might click on it without thinking, like in your ISP email, use a hotmail account (or something else without your name on it) when out on the web. Which leads us onwards, and finally…

********

Rule 10: Not everyone on the net is a nice person.

Sad, but true. Along with the criminals (we have those outside the net too, remember?), there are some really damaged people around. Ones who’ll do damage to you if they get a chance.

In real life, you’d see they were completely insane and back away fast – here on the net, it can be harder to tell. Crazy eyes don’t always show in a text-based format. With that in mind, don’t use your real name as a handle on a dating site.

Same goes with Twitter – unless you’re purely using your account for business, you may want to set up your  Twitter, email, blog, etc, so you don’t make it too easy for people to find you. Don’t use your home email, use a hotmail or gmail (or other) account.

********

Handy Hint: #6: You’re the mark. The gullible person they’re hoping to trick.

The internet is just like the real world – most people in it are just ordinary people, but there are also those spammers, cheaters, rip-off merchants – and much worse. (Just Google “lured victim by internet”.)

All of them are types of sociopaths and psychopaths who don’t actually see you as a person. Don’t be a victim – be smart, be safe, and have fun. (I’ve had a lot of fun.) Google is your friend – along with sites like Snopes that debunk hoax and scam emails.

********

This list isn’t exhaustive, but it covers some of the usual suspects.

Handy hint: Lucky # 7: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

The reason the spammers keep spamming is because people fall for it –  people click the link. You click, they get paid. You sign up, they get paid. All those get-rich-quick schemes are aimed at one thing – getting enough people to buy in so that the person at the top gets rich – not you.

********

If i still haven’t convinced you to be careful online, then don’t forget, donations to the Buy Her Majesty A New Tank Fund Office Chair & Bikkie Fund can be made via my hotmail address, which is posted top right, on this site that anyone with a hotmail address can join.

The badges are my own work, made on
the wonderful Says-It generator site – links to it behind the badges.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


NFSFFW

What does NFSFFW mean? Well, Not Safe For Work is NSFW, then we have Not Fucking Safe for Fucking Work.

I’m trying to warn you, that in this post in particular, if you’re offended by bad language, you had better run away. This post is offensive. Nice, huh? I’ve probably guaranteed everyone will read right to the end. It’s mostly pictures, it’s not like it will strain you.

WARNING: CHILDREN, SHUT YOUR EYES NOW!
VERY BAD LANGUAGE AHEAD

There are a lot of people searching for ponies and ending up on this blog. You probably want to close this window now, before you’re inducted into the Queen of Darkness’s armies.

****

What am i enraged about today? Hmm… let’s see. Aside from the usual, like the government’s plans to censor the internet for all Australians, i’m not feeling super enraged. I thought instead i’d show you some pretty pictures. Ready?

Here we go!

just the thing for the church picnic

just the thing for the church picnic, & thought-provoking

Hmm… i don’t know if I want that one, people might think i’m a believer. There’s always shock value ….

i'm not sure i'm this much of an attention whore

i'm not sure i'm this much of an attention whore

In the end, i designed my own.

Finbert rides again

Finbert rides again

Root means ‘sex’ in Australian, by the way – ‘wanna root?’ = ‘wanna fuck’. Yep, i think i’ll go with the one above – that poor fish, he’s had a workout.

Finbert also appeared in this post, where he was sexually abused by Burt Lancaster. It wasn’t Burt’s fault, it was a typo – you see, that fish is a cichlid. Read the post, seriously, it makes sense there. Well, as much sense as i ever make.

I was reading back over some posts while chasing down links for this and noticed that my most popular posts remain the ones you think are sexual (aside from whichever is the newest one).

You still can’t get enough Camel Toe for the Beginner – which does have camel toe, but also has bizarre fetishes, just so nobody gets lonely.

Another hawt sexy post Toaster Sex Will Rot Your Brain is actually a very nice rant on the unfairness of being banned because i have breasts. I still love the pics i did for that one. There’s something about toaster sex.

Yeah, i know most visitors are not really admiring the size of my brain or my cute pictures. Or even my Minions’ Badges. You’re looking for porn. (Or ponies, various birds, Antichrist humor, penectomies, and sex dolls. Seriously. And people say I’m weird.)

I do have a disclaimer somewhere that points out that when i mention sex, i do put in enough jokes to make it highly interruptive if you’re trying to masturbate. And i really wasn’t serious about inserting furniture.

If you like the two tshirts at the top, and want one, click the pic to go the shops that sell them.

I think the third one rocks. I want one of those! Where’s my Number One Minion? Make it so, Number One!

*****

In other news – there are at least 17 people visiting my blog every day! SEVENTEEN! Wow.

Seventeen people is enough for a death squad, this is so cool!

Bless you, dear little minions Beloved Visitors.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Did i ever pretend to be normal?

The voices outside-my-head have decided to do a post. I’m high enough to not care, and Her Majesty is busy carving her initials in the throne, so they think they can fit a word in edgeways.

*********************

I did mention I’m not all here, being part-cat – I was raised by Siamese cats, which of course, means i’m not like normal girls. The nurture-versus-nature debate has no idea what that war does inside my head.

Outside my head, the voices are nice, and never tell me to hurt anyone – quite the opposite, they do a lot of “Stop, that will hurt someone badly for no good reason.” I know you’re just a person like me, no matter that I am convinced i’m the centre of the universe.

However, inside me there’s a Siamese, looking inscrutable and totally Zen, saying “We will play with it before We kill it. Yesss?” In moments of stress, the urge to lash out before anything bad happens sometimes overwhelms me.

tombstone

i did warn you

I know, i know – i sound quite mad. I have no idea why they wouldn’t give me a certificate of insanity – they laughed and said i was the sanest person they knew. With this mind? What is wrong with psychologists?

Who – in the name of all that’s dusted with pixie dust – do they hang out with? Scientologists? My belief system is way more crazy-than-thou, (and i’m apparently competitive over it), with heaps of contradictions that even i can see.

I’ve reached a point where I don’t care. It works for me. I’m not hurting anyone – quite the opposite. I’m not trying to indoctrinate you, this is My Church, and frankly, my worship is a private thing, my covenant with the gods is my own.

*********************

Siamese consider themselves (like every cat, but more so), just visiting from The Wild, while taking advantage of everything humans can offer in way of comfort.

I too hold contradictory notions, my pantheon has no trouble with worshipping Science while i dabble in the Occult, believe in Reincarnation, and some kind of Universal Spirit which might be God or more probably – gods. I also sometimes look at it all from a purely scientific viewpoint – I know that it doesn’t matter.

What do you mean, Deathbringers a funny name for a cat?

Ah, a mortal - greetings - you have brought tribute?

I also quite like the idea of being a deity myself, (seriously, i’m much better at managing the lives of others than i am with my own, like most gods), though cult followers are disconcerting, as i get paranoid when people are behind me.

However, someone saying, hey, i really like what you’re doing, is exactly like injecting happiness, so don’t stop, those who get the urge.

Whatever i believe, i live my life as if it was the last one. It’s what you’re supposed to do. Enjoy it. It doesn’t mean partying crazily every night or fucking as many people as you can, or making as much money as you can – none of those things by themselves bring joy.

Enjoy simply means, have joy with it. To quote Monty Python…

Life’s a piece of shit,
When you look at it.
Life’s a laugh and death’s a joke it’s true.
You’ll see it’s all a show.
Keep ’em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.
And…

Always look on the bright side of life.
Always look on the right side of life.

Yes, i’m the Queen of Darkness – of course i enjoy black humour. The voices want to know how we ended up singing Monty Python songs.

Do i need a reason?

*********************

Thus endeth the lesson.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


It’s Fucktard Time at The OK Corral

Have been watching Mr Whatsit get flamed – for what massive crime? (i hear you ask, in a neat literary device thingie.) Was it for abusing someone? No, for daring to mention his dislike of plagiarism, a subject i’ve covered before, (after one of my posts was copied word for word and put up on another blog site as all someone else’s work).

Despite saying he’s against plagiarism, he’s been accused so far of being in favour of censorship, against free speech, and – my personal favourite – of being a communistic Nazi. Wow, i thought, they must be saying that because he’s my consort.

I shouted, “Tell them you’re an anarchist monarchist!” and threw him an assault rifle. We don’t take prisoners in the Kingdom of Darkness. Who wants pet fucktards? You only have to muck out their stables. And feed them pony nuts. Wait, that’s Shetlands.

Fucktards aren’t half as much fun.

most blogs, you get gratuitious pictures of breasts (click image to visit the happy place of worldofhorses)

most blogs, you get gratuitous pictures of breasts - this is a gratuitous Shetland pony. I like ponies. It's my blog. I can have ponies. Do not get between me and my pony. My pony will take you down. Srsly.

I would much rather have a Shetland than a fucktard, and i used to help look after two of the little bastards. Shetlands, that is, not fucktards. I’ve been pony-crazed since rather young, so much so that my parents hired a pony for my sixth birthday.

I thought he was for a present, not for the day. Life pretty much went downhill from there, and this kind of pony-related trauma is why i need to invade Queensland. Ha, thought i’d forgotten?

No way, am merely biding my time, (slightly delayed due to elements temporarily beyond my control, like ‘the world’) then zip, the Queen of Darkness will be across the northern border quicker than you can say, “Would you like pineapple with that?” If not pineapple, it’s banana.

And they don’t ask, it’s just there – ubiquitous pineapple and banana. I was amazed when I moved to Queensland, and grapefruit disappeared from “breakfast juice” to be replaced with pineapple and banana. Strange people, Queenslanders, but for all that, i like them. Generally, they’re very down to earth.

Trapped here in New South Wales, I hesitate to criticise, in case the locals burn me at the stake. Am always wondering if i should play dumb at the supermarket in case someone detects a brain in a woman – or realises i don’t have a badly ageing tattoo somewhere and that i actually read for pleasure – and starts screaming, “She’s a witch, she’s a witch! Burn her!”

Wait, just saying that is pretty critical, right? I will spread the load – it actually reminds me heaps of Western Australia, my home state.

But wait…. before i lose it completely about my beloved homeland, someone deciding anti-plagiarism is a sign of censorship made me realise what’s going on. See, they’re not even in Australia! Yep, we’re in the middle of worldwide fucktard season. Ah, of course, that explains everything.

The bad news? It’s been going on since the dawn of time. For some reason, they won’t let me shoot fucktards, so i have to be content with laughing at them.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com