Protip: If you actually refer to Kevin Rudd as “Prime Dickhead” I have a simple and quick recipe for you. Mix two parts you with one part fast-moving inter-city train. Add a splash of realisation of mortality and leave to sit until an underpaid cleanup crew gently convinces your rapidly drying remains to relieve themselves of their rail-centric bonds.

It’s not as if this comedy of errors we call the ‘factional response to political change’ has been enough, it seems we are to be inundated with faux-intelligent monocultural ignoramuses hell-bent on making joke groups on facebook (or for the more culturally-oriented; in small café’s) about the integrity and quality of a Rudd PM. There, I’ve said it, it’s over. If you can’t deal with having to learn the name of a New Prime Minister, you have serious issues with rationality, humanity and the underlying concepts of information retention. My course of treatment? A thorough application and analysis of the underlying physics of yourself-ground interactions when compelled from a great height. Excuse me if I’ve just interrupted a consistent echo-chamber of indulgent miasmic onanism that seems to have been stewed in its own brand of cliquish ignorance for such a period of time that the individual participants are literally ecstatic with joy whilst trying to catch each other’s ejaculate in their braying mouths.

You might be snorting with indignation at this point, having just hastily clicked the “Accept” button on a group on Facebook with the title “I won’t call Kevin Rudd PM I’ll call him Earthen ButtFart to better Convey my level of angst at the current political situation”. That’s all well and good, but you my friend have a thing known as a ‘party line political allegiance’. Were someone higher in the polity/party to say jump you would quickly draft a press release about the height of the jump and how comparatively, your opposition has not even begun to jump and their planned jump is paltry in comparison with your olympian vector.

That said and done I’ve learned a very important lesson over the last few weeks; political allegiances are about as safe and as useful as Hasbro™’s ‘Chokables – The infuriatingly small but unresponsive to natural reflux, plastic doodads’ around a group of existential and suicidal three and four year olds. They serve little to no purpose, they often make you hate yourself, and at the end there’s a dead kid and a bunch of angry policemen looking for answers.

I try to have some sort of reason for everything that I write, otherwise this whole didactic and one way nonsensical stream of utter gibberish goes to utter shit and ends up with me sitting in the corner with a half-eaten dictionary and a tank of nitrous talking about fake Korans.

If there is any form of message in this poorly-scribed madness, it is this; wake up to yourselves you bunch of self-indulgent priapic, genetic addendums. If you’re supposed to be the sane ones that wake up to the insanities of the mindless echo-chamber self-indulgence of the most left wing of the left wing, why are you letting yourselves fall into the same nonsensical trap?

If you want to convince those that aren’t party faithful that you are the true and the brave, on the straight and narrow then stop falling into the same idiotic habits as your opposition.

Otherwise we’re left with the nonsensical gruntings of idiots on both halves of the political stage, and then we’re well and truly fucked.

EDIT: Also, Justin’s in Melbourne for a few days, so you know what kids, Fuck David Clarke. He’s a moronic Fat Cunt that is trying to enforce his narrowminded idiotic views onto a group of people that are resisting it.

David, you singlehandedly lost the Liberals the State election and the current abysmal state of NSW rests entirely on your head. I hope serving God was worth it; you crackpot fuck. I give it ten or fifteen years until you Religious Right cum-splashes realise the indelible stain you leave on modern politics certainly isn’t admirable. You and your kind are the watered down excreta of a baseless, thoughtless class of arbitrarily-bemoraled drones whose only true victory will be the obvious expunging of your genetic dross through the Darwinism you so hopelessly bemoan.

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