Why polar bears cant retire.

Another story in the paper today about the disappearing ice at the North pole. But last week there was a story that they found ice on Mars, so doesn’t that kind of cancel things out. The universe giveeth and the universe taketh away type thing.
The only thing that bums me out about the ice disappearing is the poor old polar bears. If you were a typical polar bear couple and you bought a little section of ice in the 70’s, its melted away to fuck all now. There goes the retirement nest egg.
There was a polar bear at Auckland zoo in the 80’s who started turning green. It wasn’t the lack of ice I don’t think. They painted the concrete white to make it look like ice and the polar bear probably really liked that. Ice without the chill. When he told his mates back home they probably thought he was tripping and his green fur would have confirmed that for them. I think the green was caused by a fungal infection but maybe he was from mars. They have ice there.
They also found out that the soil on mars is perfect for growing asparagus. So guys, if you are in the loo and you see a little green man he might be a human in fancy dress. But if his wee wee is really smelly, then there is a good chance he’s a martian.

Plasma penis

It’s all about the inches isn’t it? For penises and TV’s.
We just went up to a 42 at home and I have to say the wife and I are both loving the extra width.
It’s funny when you think about it. With electronics it is all about making things smaller. Ipods, cameras, phones. Except for tv’s. When it comes to them, bigger is better. More inches. Sure, the side profile is shrinking faster than George W’s credibility, but the screens are blowin up!
I guess technology means tv’s will keep getting bigger and bigger. Like the hole in the ozone. Or the gap between rich and poor.
When it comes to penises it is a different story. At some point the penises enlargement regulatory body has to say enough! If they don’t, someone is going to get hurt.
I get a lot of spam about penis enlargements ‘add extra inches’ etc, and I was thinking this is something the TV industry should look into. The concept of adding extra inches to your existing screen is a cool idea. Don’t know how they would do it, but I bet there is a scientist in korea who knows.
If I got spam about that, I’d click the button to find out more.
Those are inches I can use.

Training for the comeback

We are all consumers in god's eyes

Evil Mo

This is from a new book of stupid drawings I am working on to follow up the highly crafted stickmen series

GpS love

I am spending time with another woman. But only in the car and my wife knows. In fact, the three of us hang out together sometimes. She ‘s a bit older than us. In her 40’s. But this is a lady who knows where she’s going.

‘In One point five kilometers turn left’
‘In One kilometer turn left’
‘In two hundred meters turn left’
‘Turn left.’

And if I don’t turn left? If I just keep going. Do I hear…..
‘I said LEFT you DICK HEAD. Why don’t you listen to me’

No I don’t.
Instead, there is a short pause and then, in a calm, relaxing voice, she says one word …..

‘Recalculating’.

It’s a great way to live. It’s changed my life. I am secretly hoping my wife picks up on the idea round the house.

‘Honey put out the rubbish in the next hour ’
‘Honey put out the rubbish in the next half hour ’
‘Honey put out the rubbish in the next fifteen minutes’
‘Honey put out the rubbish.’

`Recalculating………Honey put out the rubbish in the next two days.’


Maybe when she is fully used to life with GpS, I can use the style when I am at the pub and have to text her.

‘Hi babe, at the pub home in one hour
‘Hi babe, at the pub home in half an hour
‘Hi babe, at the pub home in fifteen minutes
Recalculating…….
‘Hi babe, at the pub home in one hour

I love my GpS and I am committed to it, but I couldn’t help noticing when I went of ride in a friends BMW X5 the other day that his GpS lady sounds younger and sexier than mine. I think it might be my GpS ladies hotter younger sister.
I bought mine off the shelf, his came installed. Maybe that’s why. It did get me thinking about the fact that there might be something better out there. I’m not saying I am going to cheat on my GpS, but the fact is, men are shallow like that and the GpS makers know it.

Burning Obama

In certain parts of the world they love burning effigies. India is one place in particular and Pakistan. When you consider those countries mutual love of cricket and effigy burning, you wonder why they don’t get on better.
As Obama looms as a likely contender for the next president, I wonder if the professional effigy burners have started practicing creating his likeness. A little too early you think? Well no. Effigy burners take their craft very seriously. They are probably working on a John Mc Cain and an Obama. Different coloured paper of course and McCain’s chubby cheeks mean they will use a bit more on his head, but these are the things that serious effigy builders have to think about.
There must have been a sigh of relief when Hillary dropped out of the race. The suits that they put on the Obama or McCain effigies will be the left over George W ones, but if Hillary had taken over as boss of the world super power, then the poor old effigy designers would have had to go out and invest in a whole lot of ladies suit pants. And that would have been costly.
Speaking of Pakistan, I see the lawyers have been protesting again.
Think about street protests. You are normally lookin at hundreds of feral hippie types with long hair, Mohawks and pierced noses. The two oddest street protests I’ve ever seen are the suited up lawyers in Pakistan and the Buddhist monks in Myanmar. Rioting monks? It just doesn’t make sense, but at least those robes would allow you to throw your rocks and shake your fists. I don’t know if a suit is the right thing to wear to a protest, but I’ll tell you who’s cleaning up, literally. Pakistani dry cleaners. Because no lawyer, even a protesting Pakistani one, is going to turn up to court in a smelly suit.

Love me blog? Get the book.

Imagine if you could take all the best bits of a year of my brain dribble and cram it into a small handy to carry around collection of pages.
But wait! there's more...
Actually, there isnt. that's it.
I made a book of my fav bloggy bits from the last year and wacked them in a book.
If you click on the little button on the right you can go check it out.
To be honest it aint really a bragin at 23 US plus shipping, but i had fun puttting it together.
So there ya go.

Beirut’s Hall of Fame and the wanking president.

Up in the hills behind Beirut is one of Lebanon’s best-kept tourist attraction secrets. The Hall of Fame. A house full of life like silicon dummies. Well, they’re not all dummies. Albert Einstein is there, and the pope. He was freaky, either his head was a little small of his hands were a little big. The joint is fricken hilarious. Little sensors trigger some of them off and they talk or sing to you over the sound of the little motors that drive the body movements. The late Yasser Arafat is there. I thought he was broken, he wasn’t talking but his lips were vibrating.
‘Mechanical error?’ I enquired. ‘
Oh no explained our guide. As you know he had Parkinson’s before he died’…. Fair enough.
Leonardo Da Vinchi looked cool, although the Mexican blanket he was wearing seemed a little odd, but my favorite men were all together. Saddam Hussein and right next to him George W and Bill. George didn’t talk but check out the video footage. He has shifty little eyes like the baddie from Thunder Birds. An accident? I think not. And Bill was brilliant. He was delivering the 'I did not have sexual relations with that woman,' speech over and over and it was combined with some interesting hand movements. An accident? Not from a team that recreated the quivering lips of someone with Parkinson’s.

Church merch

Holy water, they should bottle this stuff… hang on, they do. When I found it in the church shop I wished I had come in dressed as a vampire, but I guess they see that gag played out all the time. I spilt someone my wife to see if the stuff was for real. It didn’t make he skin burn so I think the stuff could be fake.
The Catholic Church is right into its merchandise; I haven’t seen this much stuff for sale since I went to a Rolling Stones concert. I also got a cool little bracelet. Funny thing is it looks very similar to the Hezbollah bracelet I bought the day before. Almost looks like they come from the same factory. Now that’s an interesting though isn’t it?

Shootin in Beirut. But not bullets

I’ve been in Beirut for a few days now and I got to say, it is a cool town. The town that wouldn’t die they called it on account of all the fighting that has gone on here over the years. Every third building looks like it has a bad case of acne, but it’s not. They’re bullet holes. A plasterer could make a lot of money here touching up buildings. Or maybe not. Perhaps no one bothers because they know their walls will only get pocked again. I hope not.
If Beirut were a person it would be the really friendly cool guy or girl that everyone likes, but who has had a long run of real bad luck but who everyone hopes is going to be able to get back on his or her feet.
Like a lot of Middle Eastern towns this city looks like it could do with a good clean and a new coat of paint, but if they painted it now it would probably be camouflage. The army is all over the place, manning roadblocks and generally looking really bored. That’s on account of the recent troubles with Hezbollah and the fact they have a new president. Dangerous job, being president of Lebanon. 6 days one of them lasted before he was assassinated.
I was surprised to see tanks and armored vehicles parked round the city, but after being on the roads for a while you see why. Nothing quite says ‘get the hell out of my way like a tank appearing in your rear view mirror. There are way too many cars in Beirut and nowhere to park, but if you’re in a tank, you can park anywhere, on anything.
Apart from the cool people, cool bars, great food, amazing weather, great shops and general cool vibe, you know what I really like about this place? Everywhere you go you see little plastic chairs outside on the footpath. Sometimes there’s just one, but usually there are two or three. And men sit in them from early in the morning, till late late at night and they sit and watch the world go by and shoot the shit. Which is probably something they couldn’t do back when there was real shooting go on.
If you’re wondering about the photo of the tank, I wasn’t trying to be arty. They army get funny about you taking pics of them and they have guns so I didn’t want to argue. I think they also have maps because they were really helpful when it came to giving you directions.

So long you old bag

Goodbye plastic shopping bag. Yes, you’ve been helping to pollute our environment, you use our natural resources and consume energy in your creation and yes, you fill the land fills and clog our waterways with your bad impersonation of a really really big condom.
But I choose to remember the goodtimes. Your usefulness. Oh how you were welcomed with open arms in the late 70’s and early 80’s. The look of the future. A giant technological leap forward in the transportation of grocery items. You were stronger, lighter and more efficient. As the CD was to vinyl, you were to the old brown paper bag. As I plonked you down in between the microwave and the kitchen whiz, I could feel the winds of change on that formica bench top.
Mum loved you. She used to roll you up into little balls and put you in a draw beside the kitchen sink, When I needed something to collect dead crabs in, I turned to you. Sure I couldn’t put you over my head, cut out holes and make a mask, like I had with the old paper shopping bags. But I ‘d grown out of that shit anyway. You were water proof and for a kid, that is a useful product benefit.
You got involved in charity work. When mum had old clothes to give to the Salvation Army, you were there to hold them. When we needed something to hold all the newspapers for recycling. You were there. How ironic.
But it wasn’t all one big joy ride home from the super market in the back of mum’s Honda civic was it?
Throughout the 80’s and on toward the end of the millennium, there was one fraternity that steadfastly refused to acknowledge you. You never got the respect you deserved from the TV and movie industry did you? Despite all your hard work, those arty film types acted like you had never been invented. Time after time the props department would whip up an old brown paper bag for the scene where groceries were being carried. Why? Who really knows. Some say the clean straight lines of the paper bag were more ascetically pleasing. I know it hurt you and now your time is over.
The very people you served so well for all these years are turning against you. You and your kind are being run out of town. You’ve become the ABBA of bags. Loved intensely, then tossed aside in embarrassment with claims that you were never really liked that much anyway. I know it hurts you; this is a pain you will take to your grave and mull over during the decades it will take for you to break down.
If there is one consolation for you, it’s that inner city dog lovers will have to find something else to pick up dog with.