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Tuesday, April 14, 2009

TELLURIDE: Well may Tomathon Cruise hide in the periodic table as well his able, but nothing will save him from the critics, says Payton L. Inkletter.

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

In other news…

14th April 2009:

Tuesday: Insomnia got in the way of a continuing badly needed sleep, so I got up and left the slumbering salamander to have the boudoir to herself, and search me if I can remember much of just how the morning and early afternoon transpired from about seven till two, but I do know I spent much time at the keyboard, and some time fertilizing and watering the bamboos outside, as well as attending to the worm farms.

The weather is of the typically glorious April flavour for Southwestern Australia, although several degrees warmer than average. My bamboo, that of it getting enough H2O, is loving it.

As for the time I spent at the computer, I know I continued struggling to try to tame a headline ticker from ‘wolverinehacks’ for ages, wanting to apply bold font and such, as I’ve since learnt to do with the iwebgator ticker. It left me very frustrated, a feeling of had countless times at the foot of the computer monitor, and not least since joining blogspot in 2007.

Missus Inklekindnessincarnate cut up a huge plate of sliced pears pears with coffee for me, and I watched Aunty’s Midday Report news, some Dr Phil, and then the great bulk of Oprah Winfrey’s visit and chat with one Tomothy Cruise at his Telluride home. While I’m no fan of Mr Cruise, I felt he was very genuine when he spoke of his two older adopted children, describing them as ‘very good people’ and such. I am sad for him that he’s apparently bought Scientology’s dogma, but then essentially no more than the billions of our fellow humans who subscribe to a variety of other dogmas containing much that’s nonsensical. I advise all thinking people to cherry pick the ‘religions’, and if Tom cherry picked Scientology and left the lesser fruit, then I’d have little concern.

Now if I thought I could retire unravished, I needed to think again, for Missus InkleIcan’tresistmyAdonichusband soon lidded over with those bedroom eyes, but began her carnal knowledge of me in the kitchen, try as I did to escape, but as regular readers know, escape is a pipe dream – she is too wily for me to pull that one off (those of you who are now in a tad of mental turmoil, wash your minds out with soap and water!). The next thing I knew the ravishing of me was continuing in the boudoir, and so I dutifully delivered her of her expected cut, that being a series of earth moving multigasms, thus, after being cast off her like an empty packet of chocolate coated peanuts (low GI), I was then able to sneak back into my side of the cot and surrender to the embrace of the much gentler Mistress Nodette. I have been this woman’s sex toy for decades, and it doesn’t look like letting up anytime soon.

By arrangement the satiated salamander woke me a tad before seven, to watch My Beloved and be plied with vittles, Pa pree joining us. Janny had taken him shopping to the local major shopping centre after draining me of my sexual energy earlier in the afternoon, and it is a great relief to me that she is able to do some driving again, since her facet joint spinal injection. I do so loathe being the mug taxi driver for the delinquents.

What a pleasure to see Ali Moore fronting The 7.30 Report while Kerry the Great is off gallivanting, probably around the globe sussing out the best plastic surgeons. You know, one handicap Ali has in this time slot and on this program, is that she has too low a mongrel quotient, or MQ. She is superb hosting the Lateline Business program, where she doesn’t have to grill squirming pollies or other sundry bastards to try to get the truth they’re hiding, but she is too sweet to effectively nail a mongrel. Now Kerry O’Brien on the other hand, ‘Kezza’ to his mates, Kerry the Great to other journalists, Mr O’Brien to the rest of us, Kezza has mongrel to spare, or put another way, is possessed of a high mongrel quotient. Who remembers his legendary interviews with Prime Minister Howard?; it was ecstasy to behold Mr O’Brien ripping slabs of chicken out of John Winston Howard, which he did on multiple occasions. And then what a gentleman he was when he did his last interview with the Bennelong Bastard prior to the last Federal Election, where Maxine McKew nailed the silver spooned bastard at the ballot box; Kezza almost gave away a hint of sadness for the prey he’d been mauling for years, sensing that the old bull bettong was about to have his thin hide nailed to the dunny wall.

I have little recollection of just exactly what I did for the rest of this night, but it did involve watching some of Lateline at least. Tony Jones tried in vain to get a straight answer from Opposition Foreign Affairs spokeswoman Julie Bishop on whether her side’s asylum seeker policy was a copy of the Pacific Solution of the Howard Government. Note that Tony Jones scores highly on mongrel quotient, like his mentor Kerry the Great, but Tony bothers even less with niceties than Mr O’Brien. Undoubtedly Silver Toes and Kezza are really nice blokes, unlike the mongrels they find themselves interviewing, and I surmise that they must psyche themselves into mongrel mode prior to certain interviews, a kind of meditation to call forth their inner mongrel. Now forgive me my sweet Leigh Sales, but she can do this a bit also when the occasion might call for it (Defence Minister Joel Fitzgibbon is still in counselling after his encounter with Leigh last week, and experts hold hopes that he’ll be back to normal before Christmas… 2010), but my darling Ali Moore finds it harder.

I skipped having my walk, given that I was so weary, the second night in a row to miss my constitutional. I think I hit the sack around three o’clock, but I didn’t sleep well.


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