Orbea spotted this. Both the original and the altered messages are touching in their simplicity – and stupidity. They climbed the sign to write that? On both sides? Jesus is coming? What to Yokine? Some similarities with this where the brainless challenge the morons. If you climb a sign, make it worthwile, eg. Jesus is coming to defeat Jenny Satan. There, how hard would that have been? Otherwise, stick to Cocos fronds.
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The Asia Beat- Museum of Winds Opens
- Vagina Steaming to go on despite diarrhea outbreak.
- Dog movie “racist”.
- Liquid food blogger enrages Sing. Chef
- Sushi Train Wreck
- Snake of the year spat turns nasty
- Aussie icon may cure sick
- Singapore admits, “National Service all about shooting Malaysians.”
- Asian firm sparks “wife beater” brawl.
- Actors protest over MH370 delay
The Worst of Perth 
Sure this isn’t Menora? Will check when passing suspected site on bus tomorrow. Went to school with some Christadelphian kids, poor cunts. No Xmas, no birthdays, no nothin’.
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fuck jesus, who cares
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Not unprecedented –
http://www.tangle.com/view_video?viewkey=7b2a31cdcd07aaded73c
http://www.christianraves.com/mission.htm
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……and people worry about the effects of violent computer games on the minds of the young?
Sheesh.
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NF#1: That first link is gold. It goes for half an hour!
Love the comments as well…
Not exactly how I remember raves…
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I just made myself watch past the first five minutes of the Jesus Rave video. The G Church actually seems to be for Jewish believers in Jesus. The pastor has bangs and is titled Rabbi. I love the messages (“shouts”?) that flash along the bottom of the screen.
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That’s fuckin’ moving Pfort – I almost cried.
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oh i dunno, that happy “e” chugging smiley face made me chuckle
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I like that Jesus has updated his hairstyle. His pupils could’ve been a bit more dilated.
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But have you watched NF#1’s video above.
Now that’s a rave!
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he’s hip, dude
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Jesus IS the party!
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It’s all in the mind, you know.
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Jesus a pimp? He did hang with prostitutes, I guess.
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In reference to Skink’s picture.
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Has the artist also added some shading to the lettering at the top?
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i can’t get this outta my head since i read this post:
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Why the Hell not? ignore the first eight seconds people.
Ministry Jesus Built my Hotrod
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In that vein…
Ja, stek den Finger in die Asche…
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Vein (chuckle)
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Gallows ecstasy
Let’s get this party started
Take your rapture pill
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If you will allow me to indulge my love once more.
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How’s it going with the keeping “him” happy, little lady?
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Mr Shazza is away at present so it’s going remarkably well.
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i got a prechristmas note from a friend who is a decade and a half older, wishing us all well and signing off with “love to the kids, keep that husband of yours happy and take care”.
i spent days pondering why it was my job to make him happy – it was a complete revelation to me that it was in my wifely job decsription. i’m 2 months down the track and still mystified i must say.
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JESUS TITS MONKEY YOU’RE A SHE?
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I am assuming you are joking Pforts, just in case see,
Sucked off the planet thread,
Shrieking Wombat comment @ Feb 16 at 3.20pm (towards the bottom)
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i think i’m kinda flattered Pfortner. Thank you.
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sorry I just totally read you differently. I think it may have been an avatar thing. You go gir’fren.
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no offence taken. i kinda like being a he-she.
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Jesus tits? Is this some reference to former VP candidate Sara Palin?
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that would be ‘snaggle tits’
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In my house beer does that job.
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not just beer, you need all three
http://bbandbjday.com/
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outstanding “heads up” thanks skinky.
senor monkeypants is sure to be delighted.
i have found a little mood music that apparently helps too.
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I don’t think my new found lady status would allow me to partake in such vulgarity. Besides don’t you know eating meat can be bad for you.
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yeah, but only if you swallow shazza.
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Careful ladies: the bushpigometer is showing some activity.
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really NF#1 – discussing oral sex is bushpiggish? do tell.
upon consulting my bible of language, i find nothing in previous comments that wold allude to such a description.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=bush+pig
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try “would” instead.
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Interesting – the most forceful UD entries focus on the physical aspects of bushpiggery, yet some of the adjectives (“unattractive”, “unsavory”) can be applied more widely. Anyway, ladies shouldn’t know anything about OS.
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You’ve been talking to my mum again, haven’t you NF#1?
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As has been pointed out before Natalia Fan, perhaps before your time. We aint no fucking ladies.
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What dull, chaste lives you must lead.
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technically, i don’t think it’s meat that you are swallowing.
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Bushpig=”a minging slut.”
What a delightful phrase.
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And if it’s unexpected, mp.
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This link should work.
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at the risk of abuse from the usual suspects, I will paste this magnificent song by Catherine Rytmeister that she posted on one of the Crikey blogs.
to the tune of “And the band played waltzing Matilda”
The Tony Abbott Song/Precious Gift
When I was a young girl, pure and whole
I lived the clean life of a virgin
I had no idea that my precious gift
Was important to some politicians.
So when I turned 18 and the boy up the road
Said hey, how about it? I didn’t say “no”.
But dear Tony Abbott, if only I’d known
I’d have waited at least one more fortnight.
For I was now bereft of true value
By choosing a life full of sin
My precious gift gone, just a memory in song
All I’ve left is the box it came in.
And well I remember relief on those days
That my blood stained the sheets and the blankets
I took many risks but was mostly OK
I look back and for that I’m most thankful.
But I wonder, if only I’d kept myself nice,
Wore lippy and heels and played sugar and spice –
I’d have landed a man who’d have treated me right –
Someone just like that hypocrite Tony.
For I was now bereft of true value
By choosing a life full of sin
My precious gift gone, just a memory in song
All I’ve left is the box it came in.
I grew older and wiser and carried a pack-
et of three, just in case I got lucky
And I did pretty well, despite no advice
From Abbott or Andrews or Tuckey.
Johnny Turk he was ready, he’d primed himself well,
But that wasn’t enough, I had Tommy as well
And Paddy, and Jock, and Pierre and Manuel
I had a right multicultural party.
With my precious gift thoroughly squandered
I still somehow managed with men
I swore and I drank and I danced and I skanked
While the band played Wild Rover Again.
Now I’ve settled down, with a rather good bloke,
Who with second-hand gifts seems delighted.
And I’ve a daughter myself, of that age when you might
Give advice, about life to enlighten.
I’ve told her to give what she wishes and when
To respect herself and be respected by men
And above all before she is settled and wed
To make sure she gets plenty of practice.
For a woman is more than a hymen
She has much more to offer the world
And if Abbott can’t see all that we wish to be
He can keep his advice to himself.
For I’ve filled my life with true value
By choosing to live it in sin
My precious gift gone, just a memory in song
But I’ve still got the box it came in!
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its difficult to imagine Eric Bogle singing this version
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I want that sung at my funeral.
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Jesus is coming
Who can know which church is true?
Christadelphian
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christadelphians
havent changed this sign for months
dry as nun’s nasty
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How shall we escape
If we neglect so great a
Salvation? I ask.
(Heb 2:3)
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As fate would have it
Earthly prison holds the key
Sex and drugs, woo hoo
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Do you not know that
Your body is a temple
Of the Holy Ghost?
(1 Cor 6:19)
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Fornicators sin
Against the body itself. (1 Cor 6:18)
I despair of you.
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Altar of Loa
My duty to keep it fat
With constant revel
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Thou shalt not worship
False idols, nor boil a kid
In its mother’s milk.
(Ex 20:4 & 34:26)
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To wit, to who, Lord
Wast thou burnt? Mammon? Molech?
Or Columbia?
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http://haikubible.com/
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what the shitting christ
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A timely reminder that there is nothing new under the sun (Eccl 1:9).
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Let us have some sport
throw the christians in the ring
the lions are fab
(some roman)
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Burnt offerings, as
Genesis twenty two states
Are made to the Lord.
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aaah the real reason the casino burnt down Montreaux, the keyboard player!
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Nice DP ref!
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Earl walked past the graffiti stricken sign for the local Christadelphian hall with an almost palpable sense of disgust. Damn kids, he thought, scarcely remembering that he had been young once. But back then it had been different. Folks took pride in their local churches. Sure, there was the friendly rivalry between the Catholics and the rest of them, which only sometimes got out of hand, but no one would dream of defacing a church. This was before graffiti, or street “art” as some drug-addled imbeciles would have it, had assumed the ugly contours of ubiquity. Even the Evans kids down the road, whose mother drank too much, and whose father was usually away on dubious “business trips” that seemed to yield little in the way of money, if the state of their collapsed looking fibro house was anything to go by, had more respect. Ah, Becky Evans, he reminisced. His gaze passed over the small garden shed at the side of the church before his vision turned inward. He remembered, almost as though he were there once again, those first furtive fumblings: the touch of warm flesh; flushed from recent exposure to the furious high-summer sun and the butterfly-like stirrings of adolescent desire. Earl stopped and collected himself. “Damn sectarians”, he muttered to himself, before walking on.
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Lurching against his drunkeness Jesus set off once again. He knew very well the way to Melville but but was, as usual at this time of night, fading into an unconscious sleepwalk – he would fade back in again, lost and facing a street he could not recall. The dumb pall of the suburbs would defeat him momentarely and he would find himself staring into the side of some lamp post, some bus stop, some street sign until he got his sway up and launched himself in the general direction of what he now knew to be home.
London had been the golden years and where Jesus had learnt to drink and bullshit and ingratiate himself into the society circles that suited his bonhomie. Attacking the clubs at night with the cream of the Young British Artists before Saatchi, before Matthew Collings. Jesus knew Mark Wallinger when he had a habit and tried to kill himself, he knew Mat Collishaw before Sensation and when Mat had no fucking idea how a digital camera worked let alone anything at all about death, he had been propositiond by Will Self and appeared in Tracey Emin’s sketchbooks. Jesus had known Damien Hirst and watched him become a cunt, had dined at St Johns nightly and stood on the table one night and declared himself “King of Shoreditch!” as the bright young Britart pack cheered and and called him “Fucking Convict!”.
He leant his head against the side of the boarded up deli. Slowly he found himself focussing on the burnt out evangelical artist, the hum from the kerbside generator kickstarting the albumen in his brain. A sick, sorry, vomitting overcame him. On his knees now he noted the graffiti surrounding the sign. Tentacles. Fucking tentacles.
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I was trying to find a link to “Jesus Was A Cowboy” by Suresh & The Naked Chicks, but there seems to be none on the www. You can, however check out their Gosnells Tourism Jingle here:
http://www.myspace.com/sureshandthenakedchicks
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http://www.myspace.com/sureshwillneverdie
not there either :-(
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DID SURESH DIE AFTERALL??????
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Pingback: The "pub chat" thread. *NSFW* - Page 321 - Perth Street Bikes
FOWF of spam.
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I think this is an inside job. I think the Christadelphian Meeting Hall is subliminally encouraging their believers to get fucked up, get sweaty, get their kit off and enjoy all the penis retraction and vagina stench that goes with it.
remove the ‘de’ and the ‘phian’ from Christadelphian, then remove the third ‘e’ and the ‘ing’ from Meeting, then remove the ‘all’ from Hall to find their encoded encouragement for substance abuse.
bastards.
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