Amongst my many issues with religion is the clear and obvious notion that any organisation that promotes exclusivity based on special circumstance is hardly very fucking democratic, especially when it’s used to reinforce a theocratic subservience.
In other words, “Oi, big yin, who died and made you God, eh?”
We fought in the streets to overturn big management for the overprivileged like this, brother.
“100% unemployment, no public works, no representation for the rank and file, not even an organised union? Looks like I got here just in time!”
Yeah, I’ve got no excuse for this. It was a simpler time, I was young and needed the money, they held my dignity for ransom……… I feel lower than a writer for I Dream of Jeannie right now……
Like all wives, Rapunzel got upset if hubby failed to notice her new hairstyle.
Don’t you hate it when you turn up to a savaging, and some bitch wears the same cape and fangs as you?
“Well, now. This is awkward…”
Oh, sure, an executioner juggling severed heads is all risky and all, but it’s the 21st century and we still let Simon Cowell form boy bands on live TV. Who are the real barbarians, here?
“Frankly, there are better executioners. But he is one hell of a showman.”
There’s a bizarre and somewhat colourful subset of the Australian homosapien (Boganus Mountpanoramaii) who seems only to be fulfilled by cranking out a donkshaft with double carved ollies and lowering the drive bar to up the torquey toasterage. You know, hotting shit up.
I figure chair lifts are as good as a 1970s Torana. Probably better, if we’re honest……
“What’s say we open this baby up and see what she can really do?”
Sure, we got kicked out of paradise. But sex is pretty good compensation.
“Well, it was good while it lasted. Fancy a shag?”
Enjoy your Rudolph and gravy, everyone.