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29 October, 2004

"So Josh, how's the faith in humanity lately?"

Funny you should ask, Conveniently Inquisitive Made-up Person -- it's been slipping a bit lately. Let's have a look in the hitlogs...

From the "attempts to fuck with me" collection:

• josh addison intimate courtesan to midget zombies
• josh addison punches kate winslet
• mean josh addison will die
• josh addison and josef stalin porn

Fun with giraffes (also possible members of the aforementioned collection):

• jedi giraffe
• island of shaolin giraffe
• I want a giraffe NO DONT SPANK ME (their captials, not mine)

Gratuitous profanity (the best kind):

• filthy shitcunt (from an American URL, no less -- maybe someone over there does know how to swear after all)
• son of a bitch. Son of a goddamn bitch!
• you are the weakest link get fucked
• splash shit split (a tongue-twister -- points for style!)
• BIG CHINNED PEOPLE HAVE BIG COCKS

General "what the shit?" stuff:

• Auckland Penis Festival (missed that one)
• killer lesbian with giant eyes
• THE DIRT WON'T COME OFF
• masturbating with a toothbrush
• sophie ellis bextor you have motivated so many people to get on with the alanon alateen in london
• characters who died for christ
• brad is cool (yeah, brad ROCKS!)

And finally:

3 litre scrotal infusions

Ah, that's better.

26 October, 2004

You know those times where you happen to read a couple of things at around the same time, and the combination of them gets you thinking in another direction altogether? Yeah, so I'm reading this Seanbaby article on "The ten geekiest hobbies", in which Furries/Plushies deservedly take the number two position, then I flick over to Penny Arcade, where Gabe makes the comment:

"If I got off on sticking my dick in sour cream while watching the History channel, I could find a hundred different forums full of like minded individuals."

And this is true. Indeed, we take it for granted that such online communities exist, but this cannot always have been the case -- the Internet hasn't been around forever. Someone had to start them. Even before that, someone had to start the subcultures/fetishes that they apply to -- how does this occur? Maybe they don't start on the Internet; maybe the communities already exist, so the first site would have belonged to a pre-formed group of people, but at some point, someone would have had to have said to someone else "you know what? I love fucking soft toys".

The sheer unlikelihood of one human being looking another in the eye while professing a desire to violate Raggedy Andy leads me to believe that it probably was on the Internet first, however. Then other people found their site, agreed from the sanctity of their mirrorless bedrooms, etc etc. But nevertheless: there had to be a First Plushy. Who was this pioneer into the field of Wuzzle humping?

I resolved to do a bit of research -- some online pornoarchaeology if you will. Unfortunately, my first stop was the alt.sex.plushies FAQ, which includes a lengthy section on "How can I clean a plushy?" and I decided that, you know, some information is just not worth the getting. I was always aware of this danger; that if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss may gaze back, and then tell you to "be aware that semen or vaginal fluid can mar plush fur if it's left to dry untreated", I just didn't think it'd get me that fast. I go wash now.

20 October, 2004

Dear Diary,

Discovered the best word in the entire English language. Resolve to use it where appropriate. Also, where not appropriate.

15 October, 2004

Resident Evil: Apocalypse

Two words: zombie hookers.

Now my heart is full.

14 October, 2004

Of course, if I don't tell you there's an update, you won't think to look there, will you?

7 October, 2004

"Hey, I know one of those guys," I think, "let's see what they're writing about." Before you know it, I've been sucked into the perverse and gyroscopic world of NZ media blogs like M&Ms into the proverbial fat kid's pie hole.

Fascinating stuff, if a little daytime soap: Some people say some stuff about some guy, who says something about this guy and one of these guys in response, so that guy says something to the first guy and this other guy takes exception to that -- and now I'm saying something that has fuck all to do with the actual content of any of it, some if not all of which seems to have been ironic/pure lies/drug-fuelled hallucination. It's enough to give me a headache, the urge to kill and a partial erection, often all at the same time.

This combination bitch session/circle jerk seems like a fabulous lark, so I figure I'll give it a go by suggesting that Apathy Jack thinks he all that, but he ain't shit. Also, he ass-rapes zoo llamas.

6 October, 2004

Google, ya radge! I know how I'm going to be searching the Interweb from now on.

4 October, 2004

Once again, daylight savings belts me in the face with its tire iron of sleep-pattern-readjustment. Fortunately for me, I forgot to buy toast bread at the supermarket yesterday, leaving me with no choice but to leave the house early and break my fast at McDonalds, where as luck or cleverly-timed marketing would have it, they were giving away free Boost™ energy tablets. Clear of head and fluorescent of urine, I was almost ready to face the day as a partially-functioning human being.

In another stroke of luck, I had a bunch of tedious busy work to do (proofreading knowledge base articles), which could be accomplished with minimal independent thought (bless you, little spellchecker). Unfortunately, I'm on the last one, and it's only 4:30. Hence this column.

I've also taken to raiding my co-worker's thoughtfully-hosted music collection, which is starting to make me appreciate the benefits of owning an iPod. Don't get me wrong -- my wee 128MB MP3 player is a thing of beauty and wonder, which allows me to listen to all my favourite singles again without carrying two dozen CDs around -- but I do now appreciate that it can actually be handy to have every song you've ever owned available at your fingertips.

This afternoon, for instance, I am sitting on a playlist featuring Audioslave, Blur, House of Pain, Macy Gray, Jamiroquai, Radiohead, Soundgarden, Tori Amos and The Crystal Method among others, and I like it. For the end of the day, I've prepared a special cocktail of Portishead, Massive Attack and Fiona Apple, which, if all goes to plan, should put me in a nice week-long coma, from which I will emerge fully in synch with the daylight savings world.

If not, I'm pretty sure I have a tire iron of my own somewhere. For all of you.

30 September, 2004

Another redundant observation is that the US elections are the best spectator sport on the planet. They'd have to be, with the amount of money that gets chucked around -- witness The Least Likely.

Or Porn for Kerry: "part political satire and part hardcore hot sex! Watch your favorite political figures and conservative scandals come to life in Porn!"¹

God bless those wacky bastards.

¹ The capital P in "Porn" is theirs, not mine.

25 September, 2004

New page. Look there for updates to other... stuff. Also!

24 September, 2004

Is it even worth pointing out that anyone complaining about the changes in the new Star Wars DVDs is a whiny little bitch? Especially when the biggest changes involve removing or mitigating the earlier changes that people wanted gone in the first place? Probably not, but it'll fill some space.

I was a gigantic Star Wars geek in my time -- seeing the Special Editions in a movie theatre was practically a religious experience -- but not so much any more. Two reasons, really: I saw "The Phantom Menace", and I grew the fuck up. Even at the time, though, I thought the Special Editions improved more than they harmed. Adding the scene with Biggs added a lot of weight to Luke's final run on the Death Star -- that wasn't his wingman who just got killed, it was his childhood friend. I particularly liked the addition of extra Stormtroopers to the shot where Han Solo chases a small bunch of them around a corner in the Death Star -- that sequence never made sense to me in the original version (why is Han chasing them one second, then running away from them the next?) And the prettied-up scenery and space battles are a definite plus.

Yes, the two most glaring instances of after-the-fact moralizing (making Han shoot first and making Luke shriek like a girl) definitely grate, but I would suggest that if you consider a trilogy of films "ruined" because of what amounts to about five seconds of footage, the problem's not with the films, it's with you. Anyway both of those points have been addressed in the DVD version, so what the fuck are you bitching about? They even re-did the crappy-looking CGI Jabba, for Christ's sake.

The answer to that question, I assume, would be "it's the principle" -- it doesn't matter how minor, or even beneficial the changes are, the fact that changes were even made is enough to set people off. See also the sad fucks who insisted that the single 1-second shot of Jango Fett headbutting Obi Wan be put back into the UK cut of Attack of the Clones so they could see the "full film". And you know what? I've already devoted too much time, space and mental effort to this shit, so I'm just going to bugger off now.

(Coming soon: Josh's rant on why people who complain about CGI effects whenever they're used can fuck all the way off.)

18 September, 2004

"Oh dear, that's going to need looking at -- you'd best see a doctor."

"I thought you were a doctor? And you just did that to me!"

"Ah no, you see, in my case 'doctor' is not so much a formal qualification as a term of endearment. Still, common mistake -- you're not to be blamed for your dirty ignorance."

"My...? But... look, can you fix it?"

"That depends -- are you allergic to topsoil? Intravenously?"

"I'm fairly certain I would be."

"Then I'm afraid you'll be needing to make a few lifestyle adjustments, Mr. Zeta-Jones. May I say I've always liked the name Catherine?"

13 September, 2004

No corpse-fucking for you, dirty Californians -- the Gubernator commands it!

(Barely relevant to anything in my life, but damn it, that's the funniest sentence I've had cause to write in a while.)

9 September, 2004

Yeah, so I've been sick. One of those lovely "blow your nose in the morning and lose 2 kilos" headcolds, with a bit of achy, headachy, flu-y goodness thrown in for fun. Having just got back from holiday, I didn't feel I could justify taking time off work straight away -- how did I cope?

Caffeine and sugar, by God!

Pictured here we see the 1-litre "big slam" Mountain Dew, the sawn-off shotgun of carbonated beverages (with about the same effect on your nervous system, first thing in the morning).

Also, saw Dodgeball.

In short: a mix of Zoolander and BASEketball, which manages to be funnier than the former, but not as good as the latter.

As a random assortment of statements in place of an actual review:

• Better than Zoolander, because this time you're supposed to hate Ben Stiller's annoying fuckwit character.
• Worse than BASEketball for not having enough balls, as it were, to go for the good jokes. Things that look like they're going to be a setup for a running gag are never followed up on, leaving them as fairly limp one-offs. And not nearly enough huge cock jokes.
• Excellent use of the character who thinks he's a pirate for the first half of them film; very poor use of him for the second half. This is the film's biggest flaw, I'd have to say, although good on them for having a pirate in the first place. The world needs more.
• I'm pretty sure the "experienced coach of an underdog or team of underdogs" character has to be the most doomed of any cliché in movies. Red shirts be fucked -- the coach never makes it to the end of this type of film.

3 September, 2004

Dear Sir/Madam,

I recently purchased a "Perpetual Prophylactic" from your "Cavalcade of Unconventional Medicine and Wrong Science". I regret to inform you that, following but a single conjugal act, my wife has found herself pregnant four times in the space of eight weeks: once with twins, twice with triplets, and once with a clutch of ring-tailed lemurs.

I expect a full apology and hasty remuneration for the inconvenience. The address of a decent Catholic lemur tannery would be appreciated also.

Yours,

Montgomery St John-Cockworthy, Esq.

Dear Sir,

I'm afraid you should have been more specific in your original request. As a learned man such as yourself is, I'm sure, aware, "prophylactic" is a general term covering any kind of preventative. It is neither your fault nor mine that the dirty fornicators with which the English-speaking world teems have seized upon one of the more squirty applications of prevention.

(It is for this reason that I abstain from gynaecological congress with all but the most thoroughly parasite-free of my retainers, and I recommend you do the same.)

The prophylactic I sold you was in fact designed to prevent flatulence in the presence of royalty, in which capacity it has performed admirably, I'm sure you'll find. Your increased fecundity and pro-simian progeny are merely side effects, probably due to the lemur-squeezings I use as a thickening agent. To this end, I must regretfully request that you jam your remuneration firmly into your gaping syphilitic arse-regions (another side effect).

Cordially,

Anthony Empiricles Prendergeist, QAF

P.S. I am unable to help you with a tannery, although if you ever wish to absolve yourself of some of the children, my doors are always open. No pressure.

30 August, 2004

exploding arse syndrome - the latest jewel in the crown that is my hitlogs. Joined recently by:

• what happened to steven seagal why such shitty films - I don't know. I just don't know.
• download green eggs and ham by dennis leary - does such a thing exist? This just became my number one "must find and download".
• midget on a giraffe - I say no more.
• a shirt that has a giraffe on it and says deep throat on it - heh.
• starsky and blumpkin - no, sorry -- THIS just became my number one "must find and download"

And that's the Internet for this week, folks. I've been your host, "Hysterically Screamin' " Josh Addison, good night!

27 August, 2004

As the Holiday draws to a close, let's see how I've done...

Spent large amounts of time sitting around on my arse: Check¹.

Eaten food that is bad for me: Check.

Spent too much money on shit I don't need: Check.

All in all, a job well done, I'd say.

¹ The game is Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance II. The slippers are piggies.

24 August, 2004

I first met Sanchez on the shores of Tripoli, back when I was iguana-sexing for Her Majesty's Navy. As a lad, he used to sneak onto the base and steal discarded reptile shavings, which he then painted brightly and sold to tourists as contraceptive fridge magnets. Obviously I couldn't have him taking business away from me, so I took him on as my lickspittle, and was quickly impressed with his ability to lick not only spittle, but any number of other bothersome fluids with which I found myself encumbered.

His limited English causes a small amount of shyness in him, although he usually manages to overcome this when the conversation turns to his prosthetic groin, of which he is inordinately proud. I fitted him with it, you know -- one of my first successes in the field of groinal replacement and enhancement (a field which has since made me a very wealthy individual, and seen me excommunicated from three major religions, five cults and the Tallahassee Women's Reading Group).

He prefers not to talk of how he came to lose the crotch our Lord gave him, but when pressed he will mumble "lost it in a fight". At which point I always have to correct him:

"No dear, you lost it in a bet."

22 August, 2004

My very being is dissolving into waves of pleasure and liquid pearls!

18 August, 2004

"Come in, young fellow -- here to sample some of Doctor Prendergeist's Scrotal Infusions and Herpetological Unguents?"

"Um, yes. You see, I've go this embarrassing rash-"

"Don't fuck around, my precious. We do real medicine here -- need extra glands of some kind? Improved vision? A permanent sense of unease? Extra glands?"

"Well... There's this girl..."

"Say no more poppet, I've got just the lotion. You'll be dragging on the ground before you know it."

"I don't know if that's quite what I'm after..."

"Nonsense, everyone you know will thank you for this, I guarantee. Sanchez? Bring in a dose of Number 17 will you? Don't mind Sanchez -- his prosthetic groin tends to put people off a little, but he's a sweetheart once you get used to the smell. Ah, here we go. Now, it's designed to be applied internally -- you don't happen to have a gaping thigh-wound at the moment, do you?"

"No..."

"Well, we'll remedy that presently. Take off your trousers and get into those stirrups, love."

"Um, are you sure you're a real doctor?"

"Darling, I'm not even a real woman."

16 August, 2004

And now I am on Holiday. I shall spend large amounts of time sitting around on my arse, only leaving the house to eat food that is bad for me and spend too much money on shit I don't need.

I may start stabbing myself in the thigh, just on principle.

I will still keep up with the Wushu, even though it's turning me into Jesse from The Fast Show -- "This week, Oi 'ave mostly been sore... between the bottom of me shoulder blades."

9 August, 2004

"I'm really not sure if my nipples should be fizzing like that, Mr. Prendergeist."

"Nonsense, Jeremy, that's just your body showing its appreciation of the full-bodied vintage. No, if I were you, I'd be more worried about the smoke curling out of your waistband. Drink up."

There was also the fact that his left kneecap was inching around behind his thigh in time with his heartbeat, but he didn't seem to have noticed that, and I thought he had enough on his mind for the time being.

Quickly dropping his britches, he found his pubic hairs slowly subliming into a yellowish vapour from the tips down to the roots. This was no surprise to me obviously, having experienced it frequently on the squatter boys in Jakarta, but it was entirely new to the lad, so much so that he ended up projecting the last mouthful all over my hutch of pygmy tapirs.

"Well that's no good at all. No matter, we'll get the full dose into you, don't you worry. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, the effect of straining it through the tapir quills will more than likely increase its potency. Here, I'll just squeeze out the little dears into this bedpan..."

At the sight of the remaining tonic coagulating and slowly changing colour in the pan, he started to quiver more noticeably. I assured him that the fact that the clots were forming into bonsai sculptures of him and Eleanor Roosevelt fellating a wildebeest dressed as Benny Hill was pure coincidence, but he seemed unconvinced.

"Actually, Mr. Prendergeist, I don't think I want to become pregnant after all."

"Oh, we're well past that Jeremy. Come over here and bring that speculum, will you?"

6 August, 2004

It's been quite a while since I saw a number plate that made me go "heh".

1 August, 2004

Damn it humanity, you were doing so well.

There I was, almost inspired enough to exercise original thought in the process of writing something instead of churning out another film review (Chronicles of Riddick is Conan the Barbarian in space! This am good!) or getting more cheap laughs out of hitcounter logs. But I had a check of them anyway, and in among the usual gems like hermaphrodite midget amputee, pirate giraffe, johnny bluejeans naked and that oft-pondered question do monkeys wank?, I see that someone has searched Google asking: are dewbacks real?

For those not in the know, dewbacks are the big lizard things that Stormtroopers ride on in the special edition of Star Wars.

They are not real.

On the day I figure out how to stab people in the face by e-mail, the Internet is going to find itself a much more face-stabbed place.

1 August, 2004

You know what? I can't even be fucked thinking up a new way of saying this -- it's cut-n-paste for you, bitch:

Again with the archiving. Another three months worth of arse disappears into the electronic ether, to make way for another three months worth of arse.