Indians Snared Rabbits With Vines.rbs

Belvedere Jehosophat - Saturday, October 5, 2002 - Print The Wax

I'm no angel. Now when I say that I don't mean it in a coy 'I am a dark and dangerous type', way cause the truth is that I am a cowardly custard. If I were to have a shield or insignia of some kind it would have to be of a cringing chicken.

No, when I say 'I'm no angel', I mean that for the most part I am emotionally exhausted and morally bankrupt. For example I dig porn. I like German gothic dungeon porn, I like Russian naked vodka porn, I like South African apartheid porn, I like Dutch pot porn and I like Cambodian Pol Pot porn.

It seems, however, that I give out 'vibes' to people. These people then use these 'vibes' to take my jobs and my women. Ok, I lied, no one wants to employ me and I will certainly never know the touch of a woman. I thought I did once but it turned out that it was, in fact, a wombat. On the plus side there's only three years left on my eight year ban from the local zoo.

To make my point clearer, I've got a couple of examples for you. Keep in mind that these examples are all completely true.

Example 1:

This occurred back in my second year of high school. I was waiting patiently at the canteen for whatever I was going to clog my arteries with that day (although I've recently been informed that hard arteries are strong arteries), when this guy started cutting in front of me. Now, I didn't say anything for two reasons:
1. I'm a cowardly custard;
2. Outside of my cowardice I also tend to dislike violence;
3. Frankly, I could stand to wait another minute or two for whatever garbage I was buying;
4. It looks like I used three points instead of two.
So anyhoo, this guy is trying to cut in. His friend stops him, gestures to me and tells him "Oh, leave him alone, he hasn't got any friends".
What?
You can imagine what this does to a person. I mean I thought I had friends. Could it be that these two complete strangers had cottoned on to the fact that the people I thought were friends were, in fact, not my friends. My paranoia aside (which was substantial in that I kept trying to buy friends with cacti and other lame desert dwelling plants), the fact is that I seemed to radiate a 'vibe' of friendlessness.

Example 2:

This occurred about a year ago. I like the colour orange. I have a pair of orange (I have heard them described as russet (yellowish brown, light brown, or reddish brown (according to Random House Webster's College Dictionary))) shorts / three quarter pants. I was also wearing a black t-shirt. Now I wasn't badly dressed and I certainly didn't look as if I needed the I.M.F. to bail me out of a financial crisis (not that I'd trust those leeches anyways).
AT ANY RATE... I was waiting outside of a train station for two friends (incidentally one of those was Jimmy Weasel of The Wax Conspiracy fame) and I was sitting on a small wall. To my right and a bit further down were two bums. To my left the road turned the corner and disappeared under a bridge. As I'm waiting for my friends two more bums turn the corner at my left where the road disappeared and started walking in my direction.
Now these new bums were a bit worse off than the original pair. Not only had these people been screwed over by poverty they also looks as if they'd fallen out of the heroin tree and had hit every branch on the way down and as they hit a branch it had injected more heroin into their eyes. They looked like that were in a really bad place. I don't think that they were users at the time but it certainly looked like they had been ravaged by drugs.
Now as they were walking towards me they were asking people for any change. Now I'm not wealthy but I'm not so poor so as I can't give people whatever change I have in my pockets (I was either still employed or had just gotten the arse from my jobs).
Soon there was no one left on the street save for the two new bums the two original bums and me. The two new bums passed me, stopped, looked at me, and then moved onto the two original bums and asked them if they had any change. They clearly thought they had more luck getting money out of a bum than they did from me.
Apparently, amongst the denizens of these ill streets my poverty is so great that I deserve pity and nothing else.
Apparently I seem to give out a 'vibe' of extreme poverty.

Example 3:

This occurred between one and two months ago. I was on my way to the 21st birthday party of a friend (incidentally this was the sister of Jimmy Weasel of The Wax Conspiracy fame). I was waiting at the train station. Waiting for a train no less. This old guy sits down and starts talking to me.
This next bit is the conversation as best as I can remember it (I'll be paraphrasing).
Before we start please note that 'OG' stands for 'Old Guy' and not 'Original Gangsta'.

OG: You live around here?
ME: Yeah.
OG: Campsie used to be a nice place, it's not so nice any more.
ME: It's not so bad.
OG: Were you born here?
ME: No, I was born in Argentina.
OG: Good, you can't trust anyone who was born here.
ME: Uh huh.
OG: I don't know what the government is doing. As if there aren't enough black people here with all the Aboriginals they have to start bringing them in from Africa and Pakistan.
ME: ...
OG: Just try to catch public transport. Wherever you go, there are Asians everywhere.
ME: ...
ME: I really don't see what the problem is

At this point Mr. Bigot McNazi sort of said goodbye, walked away and just kinda looked at me.
And so it seems that I also give out some sort of bigot 'vibe'.

I can't remember where the hell I was going with these examples (which are all true by the by) but in short if you see a friendless, poor, bigot roaming the streets of Sydney don't hit him cause it might be me. Or do hit him on account that he made you sit through this article and it seems that he is now writing in the third person.

He's sorry.

Belvedere Jehosophat

I hope that what I have written will be of some assistance.

On the matter of the article...

Previous articles by Belvedere Jehosophat

The Law And I: This monstrous beast was originally submitted and printed in the uni magazine 'Cogito'. I present it to you now because I am too lazy to write something new.
Cult Of The Kebab: Delve into the worldly secrets surrounding the mysterious bowel movements shortly following consumption of a kebab.

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Finagle with our bagel and keep a fresh and up-to-date eyeball on our latest reviews, articles and filthy somesuch. Mmm doughy.

Homebrew Diary - Wheatbeer of misery: If what can turn a foul mood around becomes the harbinger of the foul mood, what happens next? Turn it into a learning experience. And when that learning curve makes a late break over the plate, you'd better start to swing away.
Homebrew Diary - Blackrock IPA + Hops: It doesn't take a big man to admit that he drinks. It takes a big man to get wasted and perform impromptu sermons naked from a balcony; raving upon the ravages of the insanity of stata bylaws and noisy offspring in adjoining arpartments...
Homebrew Diary - Barrel of Blackrock Pale Ale: The journey toward enlightenment need not begin in any particular direction so much as that it needs to begin at all - and if you create your own beery reality with which to illuminate yourself, enlightenment can indeed glass you in the jaw in the comfort of your own bathtub.
Kitchen Antics - Sweet/Sticky/Spicy Pork Stirfry: 80% alliterative. Deliberate? Subconsciously. All normal thought stolen by the weight and treachery of the outdoor world. A world where a boy has to battle all manner of foes armed to the teeth just to find the time to get back into the kitchen where he belongs.
Return to Castlereagh: Enough to return. Enough to go back. Still, just not enough to sign up and be among the legions to call Scientology the religion of choice. And it has nothing to do with being an atheist or having something of an aversion to peanut butter in most forms.
Kitchen Antics - The Mushroom and Salami Incident: If you cook naked, and you get burned, then you're a chump, and I'll throw my empties at you from my balcony. Goddamnit, boy! Put some pants on and cook like a grown-up!
Kitchen Antics - The Chilli & Garlic Chicken Stir Fry: Als de tijd uw vijand is en u geen tijd om hebt te verspillen door dingen in de verkeerde orde te doen, bereid me omhoog door één van de bieren voor te drinken zoals afgeslagen uw groenten, zwengel de muziek aan, en organiseer uw sausen.
Kitchen Antics - The Octopus Pasta: The octopus is a cephalopod of the order Octopoda that inhabits many diverse regions of the ocean, especially coral reefs. The term may also refer to only those creatures in the genus Octopus. In the larger sense, there are 289 different octopus species, which is over one-third the total number of cephalopod species. One thing is for certain - these buggers are tasty.
Kitchen Antics - Joy of the Baked Apple: Who likes apples? Most people. Combine those people with more people and you've got a large-ish crowd. Then what happens? It's a mystery; like life. Like apples - nature's pudding just waiting for an oven, and a daring savage with a knife.
Kitchen Antics: The Peanut Curry: Once again we take a trip to Spicytown through the shiftiest back streets a blind taxi driver could steer through. Staggering out to admire the tastes and the sights and the smells while trudging through the debris strewn about an unkempt street we find our hero nipple deep in thoughts about nothing in particular...
House Always Wins: There are those who actually watch late night television for the commercials. There are ones featuring ads about ads. Others are for the phone sex and chat lines with women who don't earn enough for warm clothes. Ads with short-sighted women with hook thumbs who do nothing but SMS all day long on their mobiles. And then there are the ads for those looking to participate as audience members for a show they know nothing about.
Washoe: if a messenger you must be known, then with messages you must return
Kitchen Antics: Lentils of Fiery Doom: Some like it hot, while others, well, don't. This dish, unlike revenge, is best served warm, or even hot, and is ideal for anyone who likes to eat. Guard your kitchen against all who would invade it with a sharp knife and careful eyes...

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