Up to the Boundary
You look back to see if I’m still there
I’m coming, I’m coming
You’re waiting to see if I can catch up
Over to Technology
And at the pub you pause
To see if I smell what you smell
Then go before I catch up
Down to the Railway
You scoot past concrete and bars
And marvel at stars
Not stopping to let me catch up
Round to the Boulevard
Meeting old friends
Never catching your breath
Thinking that I won’t catch up
Across to the Park
You fly across grass
Then stop and watch from afar
Knowing one day I’ll catch up.
Dunstan
07-07-2010
Sunday 11 July 2010
Tuesday 23 February 2010
My Friend in Africa
From: Amaru [mailto:419sucksballs@yahoo.com]
Sent: Monday, 8 February 2010 6:02 AM
To: 419sucksballs@yahoo.com
Subject: I'm glad to hear a letter from u
Hello, my good friend.
My name is General Amaru Abacha, and I am writing to you from sunny Nigeria on a lovely summer’s day.
To be truthful, I have something to confess. You may not have heard of me but you have been emailed by many of my employees here in my wonderful country. A while back, when the internet was just coming of age and I was fresh from my business studies at Oxford University, I had the idea of applying that old fee scam letter gag to the new horizons of the World Wide Web. To suggest that I discovered a gold mine would be an underestimation of the vast sums of cash I pulled into our fantastic Ivory Coast nation. I waved that big sum of imaginary money in your face. You coughed up fees to access it. I bought a fleet of boats, a big house overlooking the ocean, a Ferrari for every day of the week and many fine buxom ladies.
However, I have fallen on bad times. It will sorrow you to know that the Nigerian Government has decided to enforce their terrible 419 laws in my country. Apparently, it is now a bad thing to take money from foreigners. I know, I know, I know. You would think this should be everyone’s right, like speeding or beating the homeless. It seems the rules of theft now apply to me, which is a real shame. My house is gone, the cars impounded, the boats sold to Kanye West (for reasons I cannot fathom) and the ladies… well the ladies chase the honey, if you know what I mean
And it seems that the Nigerian Government is still not done with me. They want to arrest me and put me in jail. The shame! I used to be a big shot in the army, nephew to the ruler of the country and owner of the biggest collection of Flock of Seagulls albums. I even did the hairstyle back in the 1980's. So many ladies!
Now all I have is small hut by the beach, my AK-47 and a suitcase containing $25,000,000.00 USD. I am a desperately sad man. I ask your help just once more. I require a fast boat to pick me up from the beach and take me away to Monaco where I still have a nice little apartment near the casinos. I would be willing to give the right person a 20% cut. That’s right. An amazing two million dollars. Please drop by some time in, say, the next 36 hours? With maybe a bottle of Bollinger on ice and a buxom lady with clever hands? And some tapenade dip and water crackers? Not the cracked pepper ones, though. I get gas.
I swear this time I am on the level. No kidnappings, murders or anything. I swear.
Hope to hear from you soon my good friend.
Ciao ciao for now!
Amaru
Sent: Monday, 8 February 2010 6:02 AM
To: 419sucksballs@yahoo.com
Subject: I'm glad to hear a letter from u
Hello, my good friend.
My name is General Amaru Abacha, and I am writing to you from sunny Nigeria on a lovely summer’s day.
To be truthful, I have something to confess. You may not have heard of me but you have been emailed by many of my employees here in my wonderful country. A while back, when the internet was just coming of age and I was fresh from my business studies at Oxford University, I had the idea of applying that old fee scam letter gag to the new horizons of the World Wide Web. To suggest that I discovered a gold mine would be an underestimation of the vast sums of cash I pulled into our fantastic Ivory Coast nation. I waved that big sum of imaginary money in your face. You coughed up fees to access it. I bought a fleet of boats, a big house overlooking the ocean, a Ferrari for every day of the week and many fine buxom ladies.
However, I have fallen on bad times. It will sorrow you to know that the Nigerian Government has decided to enforce their terrible 419 laws in my country. Apparently, it is now a bad thing to take money from foreigners. I know, I know, I know. You would think this should be everyone’s right, like speeding or beating the homeless. It seems the rules of theft now apply to me, which is a real shame. My house is gone, the cars impounded, the boats sold to Kanye West (for reasons I cannot fathom) and the ladies… well the ladies chase the honey, if you know what I mean
And it seems that the Nigerian Government is still not done with me. They want to arrest me and put me in jail. The shame! I used to be a big shot in the army, nephew to the ruler of the country and owner of the biggest collection of Flock of Seagulls albums. I even did the hairstyle back in the 1980's. So many ladies!
Now all I have is small hut by the beach, my AK-47 and a suitcase containing $25,000,000.00 USD. I am a desperately sad man. I ask your help just once more. I require a fast boat to pick me up from the beach and take me away to Monaco where I still have a nice little apartment near the casinos. I would be willing to give the right person a 20% cut. That’s right. An amazing two million dollars. Please drop by some time in, say, the next 36 hours? With maybe a bottle of Bollinger on ice and a buxom lady with clever hands? And some tapenade dip and water crackers? Not the cracked pepper ones, though. I get gas.
I swear this time I am on the level. No kidnappings, murders or anything. I swear.
Hope to hear from you soon my good friend.
Ciao ciao for now!
Amaru
Michael's Letter to the Editor
To the Editor of Australian Cyclist Enthusiast Magazine
A lot of press lately has carried news of cyclists being savagely attacked by dogs while riding in built up areas. I've always felt this needs to be legislated against because the dogs are just running wild. That is why I always ride with a shovel. In January 2006, I was attacked by a poodle without provocation. It leapt out of a green 1972 Ford Escort with white-wall tyres and a Ford novelty antenna while I was waiting at a set of lights on Canterbury Road. The radio was playing My Sharona by the Knack and it was a chilly morning for January but there was a strong southerly blowing and the temperature could not have been more than 14 degrees. A strong warm westerly saw an end to that at around 9:30am. The man driving the green 1972 Ford Escort told me he bought it in 1982 from a woman in Epping who used to live next door to Harvey Norman. How funny is that? The dog bit me on the buttocks and tore the pair of yellow Lycra riding shorts I was wearing on the leg and on the gusset. The poodle did not break the skin, but he did raise a welt on my inner thigh, although the owner of the 1972 green Ford Escort told me that the dog once bit through a wire fence. Could you imagine? I think the dog was called Lucius. I did kick the dog but the owner of the 1972 green Ford Escort said that that was okay. He recommended kicking it in the head. I don't think that they got along. Maybe that was why the dog jumped out the window. I did have a sandwich in my bag but it had no meat. I now only ride with a shovel because of this incident. It is a round edge shovel not a spade, which has a square edge and catches on my new blue and yellow Lycra riding shorts. Since then, I have employed the round edge shovel on a number of occasions. I hit a dalmatian with a red collar that was waiting at the lights a week ago. The owner wasn't looking which turned out to be okay because he thought the dog had just gone to sleep on the lead. This morning, I got off at the corner of Regent and Clevelend Streets and used the round edge shovel on a terrier with a pink diamante collar, although I don't think they were proper rhinestones, probably plastic. The dog was sniffing a pole and I know drug users go to the toilet there sometimes and the dog was likely to get drugs in its system. As a dog is easily drugged I felt this was justified. The owner was Asian but I couldn't say exactly which country she came from, but it wasn't Thailand. It was around twenty three degrees and sixty percent humidity, but I did not notice the wind. Redfern gets very windy because of the northerly wind. I have not been present when it has blown from the east.
Michael L
Bexley, Sydney
A lot of press lately has carried news of cyclists being savagely attacked by dogs while riding in built up areas. I've always felt this needs to be legislated against because the dogs are just running wild. That is why I always ride with a shovel. In January 2006, I was attacked by a poodle without provocation. It leapt out of a green 1972 Ford Escort with white-wall tyres and a Ford novelty antenna while I was waiting at a set of lights on Canterbury Road. The radio was playing My Sharona by the Knack and it was a chilly morning for January but there was a strong southerly blowing and the temperature could not have been more than 14 degrees. A strong warm westerly saw an end to that at around 9:30am. The man driving the green 1972 Ford Escort told me he bought it in 1982 from a woman in Epping who used to live next door to Harvey Norman. How funny is that? The dog bit me on the buttocks and tore the pair of yellow Lycra riding shorts I was wearing on the leg and on the gusset. The poodle did not break the skin, but he did raise a welt on my inner thigh, although the owner of the 1972 green Ford Escort told me that the dog once bit through a wire fence. Could you imagine? I think the dog was called Lucius. I did kick the dog but the owner of the 1972 green Ford Escort said that that was okay. He recommended kicking it in the head. I don't think that they got along. Maybe that was why the dog jumped out the window. I did have a sandwich in my bag but it had no meat. I now only ride with a shovel because of this incident. It is a round edge shovel not a spade, which has a square edge and catches on my new blue and yellow Lycra riding shorts. Since then, I have employed the round edge shovel on a number of occasions. I hit a dalmatian with a red collar that was waiting at the lights a week ago. The owner wasn't looking which turned out to be okay because he thought the dog had just gone to sleep on the lead. This morning, I got off at the corner of Regent and Clevelend Streets and used the round edge shovel on a terrier with a pink diamante collar, although I don't think they were proper rhinestones, probably plastic. The dog was sniffing a pole and I know drug users go to the toilet there sometimes and the dog was likely to get drugs in its system. As a dog is easily drugged I felt this was justified. The owner was Asian but I couldn't say exactly which country she came from, but it wasn't Thailand. It was around twenty three degrees and sixty percent humidity, but I did not notice the wind. Redfern gets very windy because of the northerly wind. I have not been present when it has blown from the east.
Michael L
Bexley, Sydney
Tuesday 9 February 2010
Received today?
These Nigerian scams are just getting out of hand...
From: Max Schenk [mailto:bratwurstparty@yahoo.com]
Sent: Monday, 8 February 2010 6:02 AM
To: bratwurstparty@yahoo.com
Subject: Guten Tag
Guten tag,
Thank you for receiving my email. You are obviously a most smart person as I anticipated you to be.
My name is Max Schenk III. I live in Berlin and have all my life. As a shock this may come but I am living in the year 1945. It is April but I don’t know the day as the Russians have blown up my wall calendar. My parents have been killed in an air raid by the Americans and now sad I am. On the side of happiness I was pleased that they left me $125,000,000.00 dollars in USA twenty dollar bills.
I write from the past as I sense you are a person with who business I can do. Time is my problem you see. That and the Russians who seem to have surrounded Berlin. This is most inconvenient. What I would like is for you to accept my deposit of the money I mentioned as I think the Russians will spend it on potatoes and tractors.
I have nearly finished a time machine I have fashioned from snot and rats which I will transmit the money to your bank account. I expect 2010 to be a great year. I look forward to meeting you on the day so we can party. I expect I will be old by then. Hopefully not dead. But with money and technology we can still party or bring me back from the dead. I look forward to the internet which I have obviously tackled by sending this email. I stored this message in an old phone which went in a time capsule. Hopefully they have dug up the phone and plugged it in, transmitting message to you. Please go to your nearest time portal and send me your details to address 27D Kurfurstendamm, Berlin April 1945. Don’t know the exact day like I said. But your technology will be much better. I look forward to space hotel on the moon and getting naked with Mars babes.
Your help I hope for. Things are not so cheery right now as my house is surrounded by dead Russians and a bit wiffy it is. I hope for us to be good friends. Maybe more so when future doctors spice my aging bratwurst.
Love,
Max
PS. My friend Adolf and Herman want to know if you could hold some stuff, too. Your choice. No biggy.
_________________________________________________
From: Max Schenk [mailto:bratwurstparty@yahoo.com]
Sent: Monday, 8 February 2010 6:02 AM
To: bratwurstparty@yahoo.com
Subject: Guten Tag
Guten tag,
Thank you for receiving my email. You are obviously a most smart person as I anticipated you to be.
My name is Max Schenk III. I live in Berlin and have all my life. As a shock this may come but I am living in the year 1945. It is April but I don’t know the day as the Russians have blown up my wall calendar. My parents have been killed in an air raid by the Americans and now sad I am. On the side of happiness I was pleased that they left me $125,000,000.00 dollars in USA twenty dollar bills.
I write from the past as I sense you are a person with who business I can do. Time is my problem you see. That and the Russians who seem to have surrounded Berlin. This is most inconvenient. What I would like is for you to accept my deposit of the money I mentioned as I think the Russians will spend it on potatoes and tractors.
I have nearly finished a time machine I have fashioned from snot and rats which I will transmit the money to your bank account. I expect 2010 to be a great year. I look forward to meeting you on the day so we can party. I expect I will be old by then. Hopefully not dead. But with money and technology we can still party or bring me back from the dead. I look forward to the internet which I have obviously tackled by sending this email. I stored this message in an old phone which went in a time capsule. Hopefully they have dug up the phone and plugged it in, transmitting message to you. Please go to your nearest time portal and send me your details to address 27D Kurfurstendamm, Berlin April 1945. Don’t know the exact day like I said. But your technology will be much better. I look forward to space hotel on the moon and getting naked with Mars babes.
Your help I hope for. Things are not so cheery right now as my house is surrounded by dead Russians and a bit wiffy it is. I hope for us to be good friends. Maybe more so when future doctors spice my aging bratwurst.
Love,
Max
PS. My friend Adolf and Herman want to know if you could hold some stuff, too. Your choice. No biggy.
_________________________________________________
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