Ancient apercus from November 2004

Notes from the Palace of Exile

Belvedere Jehosophat - Sunday, November 28, 2004 - 00:22:14

A fat man stands on the edge of a cliff, the ringmaster of this sick parade. He totters and sways drunkenly, appearing many times as if he’s about to topple over the edge. However, he never falls.

[I can't remember yesterday, today it rained.]

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Risotto challenge fails miserably, makes world record

Ethan Switch - Friday, November 26, 2004 - 16:30:25

On noon, to a space of time two and/or a half hours later, freebodies and schoolchildren taken away from their desks, squatted and lay upon the short grass of First Fleet Park in Circular Quay, Sydney, to witness the mammoth feat of several named chefs cooking up a risotto storm in an above ground pool system. Stirred loose and fast with oar-sized paddles, the rice quickly turned risotto after the requisite maneuvres and ingredients were added.

International culinary author Gabriel Gate, along with other sorts of names the likes of Darren Simpson, Lyndey Milan and Simon Marnie, were on hand to cook their way, along with charity case CARE Australia into the Guiness World Record books. Presented on an opposing stage, Vanessa Amorosi performed a few songs followed by a host of folk type musicians. Stains on the grass were covered by the vomit induction of those who could not handle the taste of a gold dollar donation and those with a far fairer stomach than their beer swilling workmates would believe.

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Casey Donovan, Australian Idol and champion of gay porn

Ethan Switch - Monday, November 22, 2004 - 19:42:27

Crowned the second Australian Idol over Melbourne's Anthony Callea, Casey Donovan, like the rest of the viewing nation, endured the hours upon hours long procession of proclamation of Sunday night seemingly unaware of the bandit storm to follow.

Watching eager on the wings, the gay porn industry salivated as its spread creamed the young fertile minds of unsuspecting children in the Monday morning glory.

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Anti-mulesing protestors snag unsuspecting lamb

Ethan Switch - Friday, November 19, 2004 - 18:47:17

Staring dazed at the sun with the Sydney Kings hosting another Martin Place free throw shoot out, the Australian Wool Innovation broke a line of blindfolded protestors for their AGM on Barrack Street in the city. Biting flies were taking their meat off the few commercial workers watching in dismay at the line up holding placards, shielding the rear doors of a nearby van. Inside, a looped graphic video of sheep undergoing the barbaric process of mulesing (where, from the video, the sheep is sliced open while on its back on a rack and the blood runs freely).

Few photographers and cameras were on hand as practice details of 80% against the 20% were weighed and recounted.

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Homeless beacons primed for a risotto stun

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, November 17, 2004 - 12:46:51

Covering footpaths and littering the city streets, hundreds and hidden thousands of vagrants and the homeless constantly fight for their turf against the scourge of buskers and dejected circus performers. With money falling into their laps harder than beggars believe, sustenance and shelter is often scraped off the pavement with sticky boxes soiled by the well-off.

Silver coins, traditional fare hitting the felt in front of cardboard pleas signed with God in vain and whoring the Virgin Mary, have of recent grime, seen their monopoly soiled by a wandering few with notice slips. Evictions hard to come by, the notices are highlighting the impending risotto challenge to hit the First Fleet Park in Circular Quay on the Sydney Harbour Foreshore on Friday, November 26.

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Weekend at Bernie's: Death of the sweet tasting end

Ethan Switch - Tuesday, November 9, 2004 - 16:18:18

Spinning scarves and headdresses of tumult, the Middle-Eastern sect of the world remains in turmoil over their undead zombie leader. Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat, swarmed by eternally optimistic French doctors with appropriately high tolerances to rotting flesh, operates under the clinically brain-snuffed guise of the walking dead. Buffeted with armies, the then ailing, and now unsure, state of the 75-year-old leads toward speculation that even the expired can lead revolts and holy wars.

Lighting up the shores of Australia like a colon of smack gone sour for a euthanasia spring well, Exit International's Dr Philip Nitschke is rushing for a planned backyard chemistry meet for followers very early next year. The end result is to see the faithful dead walk away from the seminar knowledgeable in the concoction of "death pills" made from over-the-counter components. A spraying of wisdom the authorities and legislation are seeking to quickly close out as they continue the denial of death by choice and even possibly, the misuse.

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The Days Were Loveable. The Nights Were Loveable.

Belvedere Jehosophat - Monday, November 8, 2004 - 00:19:20

Two breeds, hunter and hunted, circle each other, contemptuous, leery, but at the same time dancing in unison, born for symbiosis. Tribal drums thump & thump and the procession starts. Things are confused. The consumption of intoxicants doesn’t help.

Scavengers drink the blood of those who fall behind, they rise out of the woodwork, bitter + resentful at having been forgotten. They only exist now to bring the others down, to disrupt the proceedings – let’s drink to them!

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Must Not Sleep. Must Warn Others.

Belvedere Jehosophat - Wednesday, November 3, 2004 - 00:01:19

bouncing from one second to the next, from one minute to the other, he always drew some fulfillment from constant movement. figuring that if he kept moving all else would fall into place, figuring that if he kept moving all else would fall into place, and, well, so what if it didn't? surely in this constant movement he wouldn't notice the passage of time, and when it came time to make the journey to the other side (where?) he'd merely clock-out as expected. but somewhere along the line he made the mistake of taking a closer look at the bigger picture: friends & families, engagements & weddings, "no tattoos, you'll never get a job," christenings, baptism, middle-class mediocrity. and, in it, she saw EVERYTHING she hated, and she wanted a piece of the action, a slice of the pie. like a dog, she was frothing at the mouth, trying to grab a bite, trying to grab a bite. university, "you've got to be your best," jobs now, from jobs to jobs to jobs to jobs, moving still, but only within that limited framework: career, family, culture, tradition, religion, career, "universal freedom." alienated & bored. bored. bored, she finds herself in a miserable stasis.

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Half empty until the End of Days

Jimmy Weasel - Tuesday, November 2, 2004 - 13:50:06

Rain looked set to destroy the race known to stop a nation and its inhabitants. One state has a holiday, the others sit slackjawed and glued to the television or whatever media they can muster. "It's raining like a bastard down here," said one bystander, "it may have an impact on the outcome, but possibly only made the entire pack muddier."

Despite the outcome, the real winner seems to (once again) be those taking money from the saps. Previously never seen "employees" of many companies squeeze out of the woodwork to wander 'round, gathering funds in some kind of crazy sweep scheme; possibly linked back to Nigerian banking scams. The Great Magnet will pick one winner and draw them towards the finish to financial gain and their allotted 15 minutes.

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