Mother fucker actual incest

Bands with cool names:

1. The Velvet Underground
2. Joy Division
3. Cabaret Voltaire
4. The New York Dolls
5. Roxy Music
6. The Butthole Surfers
7. The Cocteau Twins
8. The Stones (The Rolling Stones is pretty jerk off but when you shorten it to the stones it's pretty cool.)
9. The Brian Jonestown Massacre
10. The Dead Kennedys
11. Throwing Muses
12. The Boomtown Rats
13. Bauhaus
14. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
15. Sonic Youth
16. The Jesus and Mary Chain
17. The Flaming Lips
18. Pink Floyd (don't instantly picture a huge stadium with shitloads of lights, picture a few English kids on acid paying homage to two Piedmont blues musicians, Pink Anderson and Floyd Council.)
19. Jethro Tull
20. Creedence Clearwater Revival
21. Talking Heads
22. Big Brother and the Holding Company
23. Echo and the Bunnymen
24. Violent Femmes
25. Black Sabbath

A candy store opened this month in San Francisco, named after a famous transvetite.

Optimism for the year 2009

2009 will be better than 2008 for reasons:

1. Fuck
2. Shit
3. Cunt

Sorry got the pink and red dots wrong way round. And I know 3 posts seems a little much for what it was. But it had quite an effect on me. You know when you don't talk to anyone for ages I think you go a bit funny. But I like the funny better. But who knows I'll say you know what and who you do: Who's to say what is and what isn't or what's normal and what's funny. To me normal is whatever I want. No objective this and that. Just me. I hafta fit my normal in with other people's normal and the Law's normal but not when you're on your own. When you're on your own you own you on you're own.

OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Pink dot is neighbour's carrolling house, Little red dot next door is my old house, Blue line is walkway, Blue dot is where I took a wrong turn, Green dot is where I emerged from spooky man's driveway, Yellow dot is where my Jenny used to live I think.................................................... I hope this puts it all in perspective. But it was dark out at the time. Things make less sense at night and not from a satellite. Hick town.

Whoa, look at all these medicines!

I watched Forrest Gump the other night and it depressed me because I had a Jenny and I haven't seen her in ages. Her name wasn't Jenny, though. We were like four and we used to roll down this steep hill with all these limestone rocks everywhere or pretend we were in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. On Christmas Eve we go up there to our old next-door-neighbour's house to sing carrols like we used to. Only we used to live next door. I didn't want to sing because I felt shit and was in an anti-social mood which most people took notice of. I went down the old railway which was a walking track and thought about how my friend Laurie, George (his older brother), and I used to got collecting bones of dead sheeps in paddocks. Suddenly I started running and didn't stop until I'd gotten a lot further than I had ever been. It was getting dark and I mistook a farmer's open gate as a continuation of the walkway. So I picked up a stick and started whacking shit like fences and pinecones until I realised I was outside this farmer's house. I got scared and during my journey down the long, dark driveway taught myself to believe I was a ghost. I was getting freaked out, when I popped out onto the road just round the corner from my Jenny's old house. That didn't help anything really, but I knew the way back from there. I felt so odd running down the middle of that road which used to seem really busy with big, speeding trucks, but was now empty. It was at night, mind you.

Jesus in a campervan

The many faces of John Lennon #4

#4 John Lennon -- Mouse

I think he looks a bit like a mouse in this picture.

Fuck, this is a new low

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds.

Bob Marley said that.

I want your baby sister, give me your baby sister, dig your baby sister.

Patti Smith said that.

I have come to the conclusion that some guys from the Symbolist movement were called the Decadent movement as an insult. They happily adopted it. But then people started calling themSymbolists again because it was more positive sounding. But what could be more positive than decadence? Fill your nose with snow and Go Rimbaud! Go Rimbaud! Go Rimbaud!

In the shitty documentary "The 7 Ages of Rock" (screened on Prime earlier this year) in the segment on The Rolling Stones free concert at Altamont Speedway, the wanker who was narrating said "...A man was stabbed as the cameras rolled" or something while you see some grainy shit footage of a Hells Angel's back wading into the crowd. We assume this is the incident.

Do yourself a favour. Watch the Stones' film "Gimme Shelter" about the free concert. You'll see this piece of footage. You'll realise that the bastards at BBC zzzzzzzooooooomed in on it, making it all grainy, so you couldn't tell what was happening. You'll realise that this was just a Hells Angel wading into the crowd, nothing more. Later on you'll see the real thing. A dancing guy pulls out a pistol and is stabbed in full view of the camera buy a Hells Angel.

Well done, Sunny.

I put my hand inside his cranium, oh we had such a brainiac-amour

Most of us manage the twisty carpet ride relatively intact — or at least we've gotten used to the constant alluring aunties, year in and year out, spread out what to expect.
Sitting down by the fire, on the other hand, is a completely different ball game. Whether you've been with the leopard one year or one month, it's easy to get the staircase into your head any way, let your hair down and well, dancing barefoot, let yourself down -- Just watch me now!
Worst of all, is waking up with that mountaintop feeling you choked yourself with vane recollections of some dirty walk what to talk aboucostumehose office parties and waking shaven into work tea you wore to the Halloween party in high meow we don't want that, shear some hard-and-fast dipping in rules to having a great time at circumstances .


1. Do not gallop under any party. Remember: you're a sensible adult now, which means the she-devil/streppenwolfoppily Have fun! oing to get bored right? Tengfunctions are intended for people to socialise and if you're unsuresaid?

2. Drink in. And if you absinthe themselves. Think of conversations as a game of tennis; if you don't spread yourself your own butter. It's World War II for Christ's sake! We're being rationed.
Masturbate the waiter, hit on the boss. Enough're starting to feel a bit tipsy (is the bartender telling you you're hard enough?) it's probably the milk to go home. Being empowered by Mount Abora can only lead to disaster.

3. Crawl appropriately, especially if it's a yacht party, Stuart Little is no longer acceptable.

4. Conversations are a two-way street, get the Lou gimme shelter in the freezer really think about them (barring they understood you through genocide reminisces and hate speech). Hands and legs won't you herbal rolling by asking "What's your favourite Christmas dish that you don't get any other time of year?" Sex anyone?

5. Capitalize. Avoid shticking to people in the broader business. Besides work, seize possibilities.
Nobody likes listening to someone masturbate — more often than not — aboudancing with the boss and steeple-chase with a work colleague in which you told them tea next day with your high.

Have your say: Have you or your colleagues embarrassed themselves at a work function? Share your Christmas party horror stories by commenting below.

The many faces of John Lennon #3

Some MARIJUANA........If you got some.

#3 John Lennon -- Wizard

Did you hear the story about the father who bought his son an original John Lennon sketch because he was being bullied at school for wearing glasses. The father said, "John Lennon wore glasses and he was one of the coolest people ever, kissy kissy mwah mwah". What the misinformed self-professed Lennon expert failed to mention was that John Lennon didn't wear glasses when he was a kid. He preferred not being able to see to looking like a cunt. And with the 13,000 pounds spent on the sketch, contacts may have been a cheaper option.

And listen to Holiday by Weezer. The shittiest Jack Kerouac reference I've ever heard.

Do you shee the beasht?

It seems I can never remember my dreams unless Jacob van Maanen appears in them. Last night's was no exception. And for those admittedly se beings out there, I'll put your minds to rest. What happened was:

"I was walking to class when I realised I'd left my shoes and blazer behind somewhere. I thought the most likely place would be the art room, as I'd had art earlier today. I walked upstairs on the hand rail. When I arrived a Maori class was in session. There were shoes and blazers lining the goddamn walls. I asked the Maori teacher (a man I have never encountered before, his character may have been based on the singing Maori of soap carving fame) if I could look for my blazer and shoes. He was enraged yelling something about one thing was one thing but this was another. I was enraged and noticed my blazer and shoes neatly folded behind him. I knew they were mine because a toy army tank from my childhood sat atop them. "They're right fucking behind you!" I was yelling. "Look, they're fucking over there! Fucking look behing you!" I picked the bundle up and marched out of the room."

And where does Jacob enter into all of this?

"I walked down a grassy hill with Jacob, singing Beach Boys songs."

And the great thing about dreams is that although you might have some theories and ideas about what they mean you and everybody know that nobody fucking knows!

Is she really going out with him?

I counted ten pictures of Christ Wethey in the school magazine. I mean I like the guy, but what is he supposed to be? The Moses of Middleton Grange? He's their darling because ooh, he's head prefect... but he's got long hair and he's in a Funk-Rock band. It's the new face of Middleton Grange. A hipper, young, alternative guy who takes part in every extra curricular activity he's offered. The magazine is a big piece of propaganda. It doesn't acurately depict what happened at Middleton in 2008. It sells the school. It shows them how they want to be seen. Ooh, look! Look at this non-offensive art and four line poetry about emotions and beach scenes. Ooh, look! It's the Fiji Missions trip and the Year 11 History trip to Ripapa Island. Where is the photo of me and Steven in dresses? And Middleton Grange's real talent in music and film making. I see an article on Ben and Harry's 'Old School Cinema' but a mention of Jehosaphat Defeats Ammon and Moab would be nice. I see an article by Mrs. McMillan on The Producers. "This fantastic rock band," she says, "burst onto the music scene... We loved the green and red shoes... They love their funk and pop aspects." God, in the early sixties and nineties everyone was in a goddamn band and noone gave a shit. But I guess for a family friendly version of the Red Hot Chili Peppers they aren't bad. "Good evening, we're The Producers. Get ready to dance."

Although I must say I enjoyed the photo of Michael Dixon at athletics on page 137. And the one of Peter what's-his-name who does the bus door thing.

Bela Lugosi's Dead

You guys have to listen to Bauhaus, they're fucking brilliant.

Bela Lugosi's dead. Undead undead undead.

Bela Lugosi was an actor who played Dracula. He got buried in his cape.

Bauhaus are the original goths.

The many faces of John Lennon #2

Let's have another just to get you interested.

#2 John Lennon -- Seducer

The many faces of John Lennon #1

I plan for this to be a little weekly section. It shall last as long as I can find interesting pictures of John Lennon. Let's start with the Obvious one.

#1 John Lennon -- Beatle

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday.

Who wants to guess where I get the titles from my posts. One is a direct quote from a film, one is a direct quote taken out of context from a film, one is a pun on a tired hippie anthem, one is a direct quote from a song and this post's is quite too obvious.

Bonnie Goes Shopping

Twelve years ago, Sex With A Cat blew Christchurch away with their aggressive guitars and offensive lyrics. Tireless touring and two albums later the band have broken through the American market with the single 'The Duck', released to coincide with the assassination of President Obama. They are now playing at places like Shea Stadium and Madison Square Garden and their appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show was watched by 45 million people worldwide. The critically acclaimed third album sold nine billion copies and attracted the attention of gospel singer, Marty Bang Boom, who bought the album in a Walmart during a roadtrip across the States. "The cover caught my eye while I was queuing for the john. I bought the bitch and listened to it incessantly during my two-week trip." Marty was arrested in Idaho after shooting actress, Niggerminge Princess Adrian, and twelve others. He claimed "the music made me do it" and was freed. Scholars searched the album and found many subliminal messages along with many non-subliminal ones which are actually worse. Gay rights activist Paulie Buddie Duncan-Malone claims the group to be anti-gay communist nigger music and covinced Walmart to discontinue the sale of the album while he clears his head. Pop art icon, Andy Warhol's estate have sued for the use of Andy's name in the song 'Give Us a Bum, Andy, Your Chest is Fine'. Bob Dylan is now using the song 'Doctor Doctor I Should Have Told You Earlier I Have AIDS and Five Cases of Tummy-Sore' to recruit members of his anti-gay militant church, Niggers and Yids for the Preservation of Pigs, which has sparked much controversy, many claiming Dylan wrote the song and happens to be The Devil Himself. Sex With a Cat PR man, Max Clit the Florist, dismissed all the hoo haa with his statement at a press conference this morning held in his bathroom. "Bullshit," he said. "Bull-fucking shit! Thankyou, Mr Jones." Sex With a Cat guitarist, Nancy, was found dead in his Kentucky home this evening, apparently stabbed by a French Jew by the name of Mad Marcel the Proust (a gay).

Walk me out in the morning, Jew

Jonny: I want to apologise for that last post.
You: What?
Jonny: I want to apologise for that last post. I didn't know what I was talking about. You know the closest I've been to psychedelic drugs is general anaesthetic. Mother of god! But I can't delete it. I'd feel like Winston Smith in Nineteen-Eighty Four whose job it job is to rewrite historical documents to match the constantly changing current party line. A marching band does the rounds through the shitty industrial park. I can hear them from my gulley. The tune merges with a police car's siren as it drives past.
You: Mother of god, the closest you've been to psychedelic drugs is your goddam imagination.

I feel a powerful lust for red salmon.

Travelling can be challenging at the best of times, but when psychedelic drugs are involved it can be extra stressful. The key to having a really good time is to plan ahead as much as possible. Here are some tips to help you plan a safe and enjoyable trip with your family.

Planning
Find out as much as possible about your holiday destination before you leave, so you can avoid fucking let downs when you get there. Be sure to choose a destination where all sexualities are catered for and where your kids can be supervised free of charge by Allen Ginsberg's Creche. It also pays to lock children in their rooms during the planning stages of the trip; if they help work out where you will be going, they'll be much more excited when they get there, but it may be Doctor MacDonald's Happy Play-Land for under-sixes.

Choosing accommodation
Where possible, book public toilets rather than hotels. They're cheaper and more comfortable. Toilets in Los Angeles often provide a noose, giving parents some separation. They also allow you to cook and piss in bed, which will be less disruptive to your child's usual routine.

Packing
When you have children to consider, packing for a holiday is no longer as easy as throwing a few syringes and a pair of bongoes into a bag at the last minute. The best idea is to create a list well before you go to ensure you don't forget anything. The must-have items to pack will vary depending on the age of your child. But the following are best kept close by while travelling: Smack, crack, wet wipes, and a simple medical kit. As for items bigger than Jesus such as prams, strollers, crucifixes and high chairs, steal them when you get to your destination rather than dragging them all the way up the Via Dolorosa.

The journey
If travelling by plane, ask for seats near an exit to give your child space to shit on the floor. Bring a complete change of clothes for yourself and the children in your hand luggage in case of liquid faeces. Check with your paediatrician about Coons. If you're travelling by road, keep plenty of weapons close at hand and keep kids entertained with rubber dicks or children's music. Watch out for delays en route when stingrays in front of you kill pedestrians.

Stick to your routine
It might not be possible to stick to your children's routine while travelling, but try to get it going once you have reached your destination. Try to stick to their usual bedtime routine. After a busy and exciting day, it may be hard for them to wind down, so give them an activity to help them relax - those rubber dicks come in handy again. Strange men can steal small children, so be sure to bring something that reminds them of you, like a gollywog or icon.

Don't overdo the itinerary
Remember that children have short attention spans and get worn-out very quickly. No point in mentioning the bats. The poor bastards will see them soon enough. Don't drag the kids around with men they don't want to do.

Take time out
It is always wise to give yourself a break from your children, even more so when you are on holidays. So make use of any babysitting facilities at your hotel and enjoy a little marajuana— the kids will probably need it as much as you!

Whip it on me, Jim

This is my first post. Technically it is probably my 200th.

We mourned the loss of Sir Wackford Spoons and His Words, but, all things considered, it was the best thing that could have happened. Sir Wackford was keeping me down. He was holding me back to a simpler type of humour and writing style I used at age fourteen or so. Sir Wackford wasn't me. And I got tired of being him. Oh, yes, his family tree still exists on itsourtree.com and his brother, Gooey Stu, still has a mildly amusing array of Youtube videos. But Gentle Annie is the real thing. 12hk@hotmail.com or whoever you are, you are a god. Your petty internet identity theft has brought the death of a right old bastard, and the birth of Gentle Annie.

I'm not going to try to pretend I am better than you. The name Gentle Annie is a very small settlement of some sort on the west coast of New Zealand (Yes I am from New Zealand, not Horsham, Sussex) and Tried to found a salon, opened a restaurant is a slightly modified quotation from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, which I started reading yesterday and is Damn Good.

Gentle Annie is Jonathon and suck my dick apple pie to all you bloggers out there.