Tuesday, February 28, 2006


Hi Everyone. I'm totally like, the Boss of IOYC over here at Reuters or some shit. My job consists of basically making sure that dude is okay and ensuring that his Journalism remains top-notch. I don't need to tell you that this job is the easiest shit in the world, due to his fucking massive Competence. A retard could do it, although it is stressful at times.

'Maybe my Palm Pilot fucked up?'

I remember the day when a young IOYC first showed up here waving around some flimsy piece of card with shit written on it. It just happened to be the biggest Scoop of my whole career - coincidence? Or just some other bullshit. I like to think that I mentored IOYC from a position as Fact Checker to where he is today, but the truth is he would probably fucking waste me if I said some lying filth like that. I'm scared of being wasted even though I have forty black belts in forty different fighting disciplines, including Aero Fighting.

Now I have to go and build an entire School including robot teachers just because IOYC said it might be a good idea. Fuck this job!! Check my Career Satisfaction:

Your Career Satisfaction tests indicate that your level of Career Satisfaction is:

Fucking Heaps.

Monday, February 20, 2006


*except in this instance.

Preface: What follows is probably the illest thing you will hear today, unless you are listening to a Jet taking off.

'I love it when things are correct'

So I just got a new Tenant at my place, to help out with the Rent. What happened was, someone put an advertisement in prime-time without my knowledge, dudes (and chicks) started ringing me day and night asking 'Hey, hi - when the fuck can I come and live in your place IOYC, I am so homeless right now, I was Evicted during a Snowstorm'. So I thought 'fuck this' and hired a Professional to sort through all the bullshit.

The thing is, that Professional set me up with an Executioner, in my house. This dude's job is straight up, dispensing fatal justice on behalf of the King or some shit. He looks pretty chilled but you don't want to fuck with him. At first I was like, 'that's pretty interesting' and then I was like 'wait, this could fuck up really badly'. The dude assured me he won't 'bring his work home' but then within minutes --> he did. I guess he can't really get enough of the Death Penalty / Job Satisfaction, fair enough as that shit is so important for well being. Is it bad Feng Shui to have a fucking Guillotine in your Hallway? Also, how can I possibly have a Guest or some shit, so much embarrassment, 'Oh this is my Tenant, an Executioner, don't worry about the stigma attached he's so okay, oh FUCK I've burnt the Roast I put on, this has gone to shit.' ANOTHER GUEST RUINED --> Executioner, please don't accidentally kill them on their way out WINK WINK.

I'll probably just move myself out, seems easier, hire a van and pile all my things into it willy-nilly, 'On the Road Again'. Life being a travelling Journalist is alright, but sometimes I just wish it was heaps better.

Monday, February 13, 2006


How much do you respect my foray into Tabloid Journalism?

Check this. An Editorial of total courage in the face of adversity.


Say you look around yourself today, just gazing on the scene of Society, you'd be a total Cock to think it was all good. So many places the moral fabric is decayed like an old Turkey that was left out after Christmas to be shat on by Moths. Or whatever other creature has no respect for the Status Quo. Do you love the Status Quo? I FUCKING HOPE SO.

'Who has all the answers? Do Helmets have all the answers?'

Let's play the Blame Game - to win. I'd say that the reason everything is gone to shit can be pinned on the following:

1. Murder She Wrote. This is the show that made killing Dudes and Chicks somehow totally okay. Hey, no problem if someone was just mowed down on a rampage, I'll just type merrily on a bed without a care in the world. Murdering, LOL, so quirky / harmless.

2. Maps. It used to be that if something was pissing you off, you could just move it around while blindfolded and forget where it was. See eg, Asia / 'Gondwana' etc. Nowadays, there's Maps showing where everything is. Even blind people probably have Maps in Braille. ARE THEY SICK?

3. Illegitimate Childs. So what, you just want to bust out a Descendant out of Wedlock? Are you shit in the head? What if that Child grows up to be a fucking King of England, there will be so much controversy of Oliver Cromwell and so on, where will we be then. Answer? FUCKED.

Basically if you're not part of the Solution, you're part of the Problem.

Now if you don't mind I need to smoke a massive Canoe.

Friday, February 10, 2006


Well, it's been another massive few days of just so much shit happening. I turned 136, which is pretty old but also young compared to someone that is like, 450. All you ever hear, at 450, "remember the good ole days when I didn't look like an Albino Sultana" etc etc, will it ever end. To celebrate my Birth I decided to build an entirely new house and eat a massive Apricot.

I'm not kidding, that Apricot was the size of a fucking Airport. If you saw it, the first thought would be to challenge my ability to eat it. I'd respond by simply eating the whole thing in one gulp, staring directly at you without blinking or even opening my Mouth. Leaving you with egg on your face (also Apricot / shrapnel of Apricot?).

Imagine if Good Will Hunting was forced to 'do the Math' on that shit. SCORE:

IOYC: Ultimate Victory
Good Will Hunting: Despair / Therapy of Robin Williams.

The house building went alright, an Architecture Marvel in many ways, but forgot to bring a 'Spirit Guide Level' so the place is pretty wonky. It hasn't really solved my House Related Crisis but you can't expect miracles from Realty or Construction (unless you hire Jesus as Carpenter --> Good Luck at like, time and a billion).


Oh sorry, perhaps you need some directions to get to Shut Up Village. IT'S RIGHT OVER THERE.

My plans for the rest of the day include:

1. Sell Furniture to the highest bidder and receive Positive Feedback.
2. Rally against the forces of Evil, but pretty quietly.
3. Try not to offend people with really itchy trigger fingers (eg recently Divorced Cops with severe eczma).
4. Make friends with a Stork (or at a pinch, a Heron).

'Check my Rhinoplasty'

Friday, February 03, 2006


Bad news aspiring Music - I just started what will probably be the World's biggest Band. How it works is, IOYC on Drums, IOYC on Guitar / Keyboard, Computerised Basslines, Fucking Sweet Robot on Vocals. I need to program that Robot to sing, at the moment it just puts together a Toyota or some shit, but I can 'sense its hidden talents'.

'I can sense things through a TV'

The kind of entertainment we'll be busting out will be pretty cutting edge, I don't imagine people will know what to think of it. For example, here's a (Totally Impartial) review of our first album 'Hammer of Self-Defence':

'Hammer of Self-Defence'
Capitol (or some shit)


This Album quite literally redefines what it means for things to be good. After listening to it over one thousand times in a row I realised that Holy Fuck, my life is now so damn improved, I am inspired to go to like, Africa and help Childs. Musically, the twin attacks of IOYC and Robot complement each other while at the same time pissing each other off. This tension drives the Band into new territory. It sounds like a fucking Comet hitting a Wizard School. Don't even buy it, just run into a Record Store and DEMAND to own it (politely), clutching your own Face and weeping into a cup of tea (pre-purchased).

Kind Regards

I think it's a fair review. I didn't like that shit about Comets but Fuck Music Critics I can handle it.