Look I have to admit, blogging whilst drinking vodka has been problematic for me. I’m calling it. I’m admitting a major problem. I regret that blogging while drinking heavily has led me to make many, MANY statements I haven’t regretted. I wish I could regret…well you know – all the future cunts and pedos, the artists without imagination – Stormie Mills, the Smiths, Mark Teatowel McGowan, Tim Teh Dunny Winton… I apologise that after waking with a hangover I still haven’t regretted any of the shit I’ve said, because it’s all true, drunk or sober. I should have such regret no? So as pictured, I’m pouring out my stock s of vodka and moving straight to, well straight tequila- on the rocks (I’m not a fucken animal), so let’s just send me agave only tequila and we will all be…OK, yeah? Glad we had this talk.
The Worst of Perth 
I’m sorry too and something’s certainly come over me the last ten years or so and its just a constant never ending need I have to apologize for everything I do and say and for everything that I think as well. My God! We all must have been living in a complete fool’s paradise before this most recent onset of Political Correctness descended upon us and set about showing each and every one of us, just how wrong we have been in what we’ve been thinking for most of our sorry lives. I am so pleased that there are arbiters out there who daily sit in front of microphones and who have special gifts (or ‘dibs’ as most might call it), in that they can and they will correct us in all we do and say. And yes, they will extract our apologies as well. And over and over again they will do just that, have no fear. I do so enjoy having some half educated seat polisher sit in judgment of all before him and I do enjoy so much having his kind tell me constantly just where I am wrong in what I feel and in what I say and in what I think……………… And tonight I’ve had a shot of hard liquor and I’ll even apologize to all the readers for that as well… Perhaps some might be thinking, ‘Best I go drown myself’….. Don’t go there please, Its no longer funny to ‘sling shit’ in this country.
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I don’t think you’ve had enough. Try tequila.
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Does political correctness really even exist? I thought it was the cry of the looser who doesn’t have the… …timing …to be funny?
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In vino et veritas.
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Its water, he’s lying
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Definitely Vodka.
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It’s all quite simples ; say you want to say ” I’d like to shoot that cnut that does the fake tradie ad ” well you can’t because it might encourage something, domestic violence or something.
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I see that giving up vodka has (slightly) improved your fashion sense. Less 1970s pimp from Blaxploitation move, like you were last Friday, which is a start. But still, turn-ups? In 2016?
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They’re back baby.
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The TWOP fans that I have actually met would be ill advised to give fashion advice. Tony Abbott as minister for women level ill advised.
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I try not to meet my heroes, unless I’m already convinced they can articulate a coherent sociosemiotic vision of their fashion dynamics. Turn-ups strongly suggest you will not meet this minimum requirement.
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I’ve got an inexplicably large range of dad jeans in my wardrobe. Fair cop.
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I trust you’re not referring to me. If you are, good DAY, sir.
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Why edit out the dope plants?
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I do try to moderate my anger at the dumb humanity which impacts on so much my life by means of the occasional tilt of the bottle, but it is all in vain.
What I was angry about yesterday persists, and fresh affronts to my sanity appear to reinforce past offences against my reasoning mind.
No amount of alcoholic, or other, induced stupor is lasting; and the clarity of the following day(s) serves only to contrast the it’s futility against the reality of a seriously fucked-up society.
Other than that, my self imposed status of quasi reclusiveness is having a modestly calming effect.
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Others regret their outbursts the next day. I seldom do. I feel it is a problem. Have I not been drunk enough to be properly insulting?
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PS: Love the garden, but why the distortions around your shoulders?
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Either cocos or mull. Unfortunately I suspect backyard cocos grower.
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There is a reason that would take too much tequila to explain.
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Rolled up jeans cuffs?
They’re worthy of a TWOP post of their own.
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Dad jeans.
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Is the tartan clan Smirnoff or clan tequila
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Clan Lauren, Ralph Lauren
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Real men buy their flannies at Big W.
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