Pope Francis decrees that all animals go to heaven.
Wow, Heaven would seriously smell of chickens.
Just the broiler hen industry alone accounts for in the order of 100 billion hens per year worldwide. So if you add a few years together you quickly realise that in heaven there are trillions and trillions of chickens already, and we add more than a 100 billion each year.
Which makes you wonder, what do they eat up there? KFC, chicken burgers? It would make sense.
It’s my job between now and polling day to remind the Australian people just what a hopeless, unreliable, untrustworthy, dishonest, deceptive Government this has been. It just doesn’t get democracy.
– Tony Abbott. Interviewed by Alan Jones, Radio 2GB, Sydney, 21 July 2010
Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.
It’s a world I’m creating. A world full of monsters and heroes, good guys and bad guys. It is an absurd, crazy, violent world where people rage away and god actually exists.
– Nick Cave
How can I be so sure? It has nothing to do with the technology per se, rather because the banks like it.
Wells Fargo, a US bank, is offering 20 USD for customers to even try Apple Pay
Banks are powerful.
Tony Abbott on whether he will take a certain issue up with Vladimir Putin, President of Russia:
Look, I’m going to shirtfront Mr Putin… You bet I am.
Borderline complete fuckwit.
Chief scientist at Crocodylus Park in Darwin Charlie Manolis, earning himself Expert of The week with this comment:
Poking a crocodile in the eyes is not a foolproof method of escaping attack.
Great tip and I’m glad I read it. Otherwise I might have gone swimming at Kakadu thinking i’d be fine. If a croc bit me on the head, crushing my skull with its 3 inch teeth and 5,000 lbf (22,000 N) bite, I could just poke him in the eye and escape.
Cleaver is visiting his ex-wife, the psychiatrist.
At 3:30 in the morning I’m watching this doco on the Nature Channel.
Right, so I take it the sleeping thing’s still not happening for you?
I just bought this knife that can cut through frozen meat and cars and you never have to sharpen it, and I’m thinking rather than watch another infotainment program, and spend another 195 bucks on another useless piece of shit, probably safer to watch the Nature Channel.
Do you want to sit down?
No, I’m fine.
And, ah, they’re playing this doco on chimpanzees which are, according to this show, There’s this 1 to 3% genetic disparity that has something to do with our ability to program DVD players.
But essentially they are us, and we are them.
Do you know how chimps live? The females hang about in a circle, picking fleas off each other, and worrying that young Bobo’s getting in with the wrong crowd, and wishing their anal skin was as red and swollen as Hilda’s.
Do you know what the males are doing?
Boring the crap out of their ex-wives?
They’re waiting for the babes to go on heat, and when they do, it’s war.
The alpha male tries to beat the betas off, but in the end, he either manages to, or someone better looking takes over the pack, and the betas just go back to watching the females pick fleas off each other.
I’m guessing buried beneath all this is some epiphany on your part?
We don’t live how we’re meant to.
This is why humankind is in so much trouble.
Fuzz, your father’s here!
We marry and are expected to stay faithful to one woman for the rest of our lives, no matter how earth-shatteringly dull that might be.
But 7% of our DNA’s telling us we’re morons.
There’s this telling us we’re doing the right thing.
Did something happen this week?
I fucked my best friend’s wife.
To set the scene, we’re at an art gallery auction, champagne, suits, politicians. Melissa is with David. Cleaver stumbles in, drunk, shirt half untucked, suit sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He spots Melissa and David. He staggers over and the pleasantries begin.
Harry-sorry-David, I never, ah, never pictured you as the arty type.
Always see you in a velvet cap and a red cape, chasing foxes on your father’s estate.
My father worked in a bank.
Did he really? The stories you must have.
gallery owner on microphone
You will have read the literature that accompanied your invitations.
There were invitations?
But it’s also about helping a great cause…
will go to rebuilding the war-ravaged Congo.
[spits champagne all over the back of the woman standing in front of him]
Ah! Oh, well, that’ll fix it.
I’m not suggesting that and I would ask you not to interrupt.
Well, just a cotton pickin’ mo here, Flick.
I’m poised to pull out a lazy 20G and purchase one of these lithe, textural, bilious attacks on art.
I need to know how my donation, that you’re now describing as your donation, is going to relieve the suffering of the good burghers of the Congo.
Cleaver, you’re a terminable bore. Please leave.
Robert Benchley said that ’all art is relative but all your relatives are not necessarily art.
Oh, that’s what I love about a gallery opening, folks. A better class of bouncer. Please, don’t hurt me.
Come on, folks, really.
In this, the first instalment in The Cleaver Greene Monologues, Cleaver is at a fancy Rocks restaurant, stuck sitting next to a couple of women who’s conversation is irritating him.
He didn’t even stop at the light.
He just sailed through. I mean, it is a miracle that no-one was hurt.
There are so many lunatics on the road nowadays.
woman 2 (Leanne)
So Blake, he insisted, for his own peace of mind, while I’m ferrying the children around - I couldn’t argue with that.
So he test drove the top four and settled on the Porsche.
You know, and I don’t care what anyone says.
It is not self-indulgence when you are keeping your kids out of harm’s way.
What is it with these people? There’s more to that point I was making, so just let me say this.
Just be quiet while I say this because this really irritates me, and I’ve thought about it a lot, OK? So what I want to say is, you’ve got to keep the warring tribes apart.
You know, it’s the wretched politics that drive me nuts.
It’s supposed to be a happy event.
That is absolutely correct.
Excuse me. I’m sorry. Linda, isn’t it?
Leanne, yeah. Sorry to interrupt, Leanne, but I’m curious about something.
Yep. I’ve noticed you say the word ‘correct’ a lot.
I hadn’t noticed.
Yes, when somebody says something that you agree with, you don’t say ‘yes’ or ‘uh-ha’ or even, ‘you go, girl’. You say ‘correct’.
I’m sorry, you’ve lost me, Cleaver.
Oh, well, it’s sort of like a school teacher talking to a 10-year-old. You know, you’re not actually agreeing, you’re approving.
It’s as if the statement isn’t valid until you deem it so.
Your point being?
Well, it’s like you’re an arbiter of the truth. It’s a way of being smug and superior, Leanne, which is why so many fuckwits in the city use it. And now it’s spread into the mouths of the spouses like some sort of contagion. Your kids’ll be saying it soon from the backseat of the four-wheel-drive Porsche, feeling safe and smug and superior.
Buying a Porsche SUV for the sake of the kids’ safety. I don’t think I’ve heard such transparently banal bullshit in my entire life.
[woman 1 throws her glass of wine in Cleaver’s face]
You go girl!
A little late for a lot of people.
Here In Australia we declare certain organisations as criminal organisations, such as bikie gangs. And that’s appropriate, they do bad shit in the community.
Wouldn’t it be interesting to put some metrics to how much harm an organisation has done in a community.
If we did that we could then compare the Catholic Church with bikie organisations to get an idea of which do the most harm in the community.
Just by the nature of the harm the church does, they’d pretty much have to come out on top. How much extortion, illegal gambling and selling drugs do you need to accumulate to equal the rape of a child.
I think the church would win that particular contest.
Maybe we need to name the catholic Church as a criminal organisation.
From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one
She stared in my eyes and smiled
For her lips were the colour of the roses
That grew down the river, all bloody and wild
– Where the Wild Roses Grow
What about God and his Armageddon?
He’s all blissed out, man, up in heaven
– There is a Light
She saw the barkeep said oh god he can’t be dead
Stag said well just count the holes in the motherfucker’s head
– Stagger Lee
Be mindful of the prayers you send
Pray hard but pray with care
For the tears that you are crying now
Are just your answered prayers
The ladders of life that we scale merrily
Move mysteriously around
So that when you think you’re climbing up, man
In fact you’re climbing down
– Oh my Lord
Well they killed a little whiskey
And poured their pistols dry
– Crow Jane
My desire for you is endless
And I love you most of all
I just don’t want you no more
And that’s the sweetest embrace of all
– Sweetest Embrace
But there was a chord in you that I could not find to strike
– Jesus of the Moon
Here she comes blockin’ the sun
Blood runnin’ down the inside of her legs
– Do you Love Me?
A life-sentence sweeping confetti from the floor of a concrete hole
– Let Love In
And my piano crouched in the corner of my room
With all its teeth bared
All its teeth bared
I could not wipe the smile from my face
As I sat sadly by her side
– As I Sat Sadly by Her Side
And she is moving the furniture around
Moving the furniture around
– Sorrowful Wife
I counted up my blessings
And counted only one
One tiny little blessing
And now that blessing’s gone
– Brother My Cup is Empty
So buy me one more drink my brother
Then I’ll take it to the road
Yes I’ll take it to the rain
I’ll take it to the snow
– Brother My Cup is Empty
It’s early in the morning and I don’t know what to do
It’s early in the morning and I can’t believe it’s true
It’s early in the morning and it’s happening again
Well I called you once
I called you twice
Ain’t I your midnight man?
– Midnight Man
The thunder from my steely fist
It made all the glasses jangle
When I shot him I was so handsome
It was the light
It was the angle
– O’Malley’s Bar
What’s your pleasure? asked the barman
He had a face like boiled meat
– The Ballad of Betty Coltrane and Robert Moore
She was given to me to put things right
And I stacked all my accomplishments beside her
Yet I seemed so obsolete and small
I found God and all his devils inside her
In my bed she cast the blizzard out
Mock sun blazed upon her head
And so completely filled with light she was
Her shadow fanged and hairy and mad
– Do you love me?
The tears are welling in my eyes again
I need twenty big buckets to catch them in
Twenty pretty girls to carry them down
Twenty deep holes to burry them in
Whilst on a train trip across Germany this week, I had an idea. I would listen to all of my favourite Nick Cave songs and jot down the lyrics that move me. Over a six hour train ride to Berlin, I did just that.
Make no mistake, 6 hours of Nick Cave is a wild ride. It’s dark a and turbulent world. In his own words
It is an absurd, crazy, violent world where people rage away and God actually exists.
This piece by Nick Groom, The Ten Best Nick Cave Lyrics, describes Cave’s writing particularly well.
Nick Cave’s writing is utterly singular: a bilious mix of the sacred and the profane fuels his lyrics. Biblical prophecy is mashed up with voodoo, parable and fable clash with lullabies and proverbs
Utterly singular. Yes.
So without further ado, I give you Love, God and Murder.