Go Google a Kite!

Imagine: The journey of a lifetime. Finally, you have arrived. All those months of working weekends and saving pennies have paid off. You’ve even taken the time to learn some of the language, and now you’re really here! – Walking through the country of your dreams for the first time. Everything is so new, so fresh, so vibrant. Every sound, sight, and smell a new wonder to behold. Even the sunlight feels exotic. Approaching a stranger, you manage, albeit a little hestitantly, in the local lingo, to ask “Excuse me, which way to the town-square?”. To which they reply with barely-disguised contempt “Google is your friend” before hurrying away.


Back in reality, I was once wondering who was playing Pedal-Steel on Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven” (It’s Jay Dee Maness). Google didn’t pony-up immediately, so I asked the question on an Internet forum. The first response? “Google is your friend!”

Seems to be the de-facto answer in this decade, and I’m sure most of us have heard it (or used it) recently. Well, I have several problems with this reply:

1) The implication is that I’m either too lazy, too retarded, or both to try Google first.
2) No attempt has been made to answer the question. So why bother replying, unless you just like to think you sound clever? asshole!
3) Yes, just about anything trivial can be answered by all-seeing, all-knowing Google. But asking in a forum is an invitation for conversation between human beings. Why piss on that?

So to all you smug “Google is your friend” bastards …

Fuck you, and the horses you rode in on, you self-righteous, arrogant pricks!


I like to sit here in the summer months, Particularly on a sunny morning, when the bright light is spottled and tempered by the natural canopy of trees and native bush. Just watching the clean water flow. Ferns, trees, tuis. Vines and creepers.

And under the bridge
Perhaps a taniwha sleeps
Do not venture in.

I went there this morning.  The inspiration to use haibun-style came from reading At the Foothills


At night they scrawl
Upon the wall
To you all

Shades and hues
Whites and blues
Many styles
From which to choose

From their stint
We get the hint
All the facks
Unfit to print

At night they scrawl
Upon the wall
Their message is
Screw you all!

Hamlet had it easy.

Prompt: Sleep

To pee, or not to pee, that is the most pressing question at 3am:
Whether ’tis nobler to make haste to the bathroom or to suffer
The slings and arrows of an unfortunate sleeping partner,
Or to take arms against a pile of wet sheets
And by opposing them, to break sleep briefly
But avoid the heart-ache of being consigned to the couch henceforth
And the thousand blows that flesh shall be subject to?
‘Tis a bother when slumber Is devoutly to be wished. To sleep,
To sleep, perchance to snore; aye, there’s the fart,
For in that sleep, the cat will come,
When I have shuffled off this suffocating duvet,
The feline will pause, curled and purring at the foot of the bed.
There’s the fake respect
That makes calamity of cat-ownership so life-long.

I really need to go!


photo: http://www.public-domain-image.com

Dessert (sugar reflected)

Well, I do like sugar. Perhaps a bit too much, as you can see from my waistline (even though you can’t actually see it [thank goodness {and no, I will not provide a photo}]). I like mochacinnos and really cold fizzy-drinks and …

If you should chance to see your reflection in a dessert spoon, it will be upside-down

Dessert is rejected
I will not be reflected
Nor left most dejected
By the image projected

I was not ejected
I gladly elected
To join a buffet selected
By those who defected

Post-dinner expected
A liason effected
But you must go protected
So you dont get infected

Pour Some Sugar on Me


landscape “When you gaze out your window — real or figurative — do you see the forest first, or the trees?”

Forest? Trees? Are you completely mad? Do you not think that the pterodactyl is a more pressing concern right now?  Wait, what’s it doing? … it seems to have found… no, wait  … it, I think it’s seen us. Shit!
Want more?

photo: http://www.public-domain-image.com


Ballerina Fireman Astronaut Movie Star

The ballerina was hot for the astronaut. And why not?, after all; The astronaut had a thundering sturdy rocket to boast of. The astronaut went to work in a suit. And it was no ordinary suit; It was a suit that only those such qualified could wear and designed to bear the unique pressure, or lack thereof, of the job. It was an expensive suit. The ballerina wished to shoot for the stars. Maybe the Movie-stars. The ballerina had hot legs and the astronaut was her lift-ticket out of this two-bit opera-house. But when the astronaut fired up his rocket, the stage-curtains caught alight and everything was fucked.

Ballerina Fireman Astronaut Movie Star