While collecting cheap shots for that last post (about nutbar gurus) I stumbled upon a photo of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh. For those who don't know (or remember) he told all his dopey, cashed-up followers to celebrate their individuality by wearing orange and adopting a new name chosen by him, then squirming before him like retarded groupies chanting, "Ooh, Bhagwan, the sun just shines out of your arse!"

His movement was a big hit in Fremantle, WA, some years back. Now the people of Freo are very alternative, and obviously not very bright. There's clearly something about the place that encourages -- or at least tolerates -- such bone-headed credulity. It might be the slow pace of life, the long hot days and perfectly clear skies. Or maybe it's the history. See, the place started of as a place to dump convicts, and there are nearly as many old prisons there as there are bloody cafes. And I think that's scarred the soul of the place to this day. It's lovely and peaceful, but underneath there's this 'orrible violence and turmoil. It's the ghosts of the convicts, see, still howling in agony and rattling their chains. And if you stay there too long, you become a prisoner as well. It's creepy. There are people there chained to the tables of cafes, nursing the same cappuccino for several years at a stretch!

Strange, strange place. It's kind of like Hotel California.

I think I can hear a parody coming on...

 
Just had a perve at that Sri Chinmoy fella's website. It's got this very revealing aphorism: "When the power of love replaces the love of power, man will have a new name: God."

Sounds nifty. But there's a catch. You can do it arse-about, see. That is, if you think you're God (and I think this bloke just might) then you can be convinced that everything you do and say is full of love and kindness, when it might just be full of, well, you know.

Here are some other fellas who made the same boo-boo.

And here's another one who's well on the way, I reckon.

 
I knew there was something suss about that creepy clasping frenzy down in Wollongong.

 
Greeds are a cack. They affirm the beauty, power and value of benign, warm, huggy nature over horrible, destructive, bilby-squashing civilization, don't they? So why do they even have websites? The Internet is super-high-tech, and was developed by the peenie-waving American military after all. Shouldn't they use a more appropriate means of communication, like this? (On second thoughts, no. That would be a violation of its animal rights.)

Another thought: Doesn't the site's minty hue just give you a splitting headache. No wonder Greeds are so aggro. They've all got perennial migraines from logging onto their sites. (Or maybe it's because it reminds them of this kind of logging?)

And look closely at the logo on that site. Don't you think it's more approriate for a chain of Irish pubs?

(I know, I'm being petty. But it's fun!)

 
Some great common sense from Tony Blair, speaking to a bunch of unionists. Of course they were not convinced.

 
Just had another squizz at that celebrity hug list. One of the fondlers-for-peace is a soulful and poetic looking bloke called David Bridie. He's a singer/lyricist and like most singer/lyricists he's a right tosser, that's for sure. Just read the lyrics to this first song on his latest offering. I don't have a clue what he's on about. I think he's trying to cash in on all this stuff in the news about refugees, or something. Whatever, lyrically speaking it just stinks up a storm.

The chorus is great, but: "Up the Oodnadatta, well you know it's just a matter of time, 'til the sky ends". Love that.

Here's an idea: lob at his next concert and sing along with, "Up ol' Saddam's clacker, well you know it's just a matter of time, 'til the threat ends".

 
Hello all. I'm a writer and comedian in Sydney, Australia. I'm doing this because it's cheaper than Prozac.

So, straight in: I just saw a post by Tim Blair about World Hug Day. Gawd. You wonder how people could be so smug and puerile. Surely it's satire? But no, it's real. What's interesting about the list of celebrity huggers is that many of them are greenies. Now, I've met a few of ferndamentalists in my time and warmth and compassion aren't exactly the words that come to mind. Say anything remotely Eurocentric, speciesist or just plain rational, and they're likely to assemble in a pack and spray you with a putrid jet of soy-flavoured bile. Yes, they love hugging trees, they love cavorting with the bilbies, but they don't like Homo sapiens all that much (except for members of their own tribe, of course).

Their whole philosophy is subhumane: animals and plants are as valuable as people. The fact that they're trying to fob themselves off as exemplars of brotherly love is a cack. Greens for compassion? That's like a wet t-shirt competition being organized by the Taliban.