Mass Debating

By now you probably have got the impression that I currently have a sensational amount of free time on my hands. It's true, what with the injury and having no money, I have been left with a lot of time to think. This has had some good outcomes, such as starting this blog. It has also had some rather unfortunate side effects.

I have always been a very opinionated person. But, unlike a lot of people on the internet, before I start vocalising my opinions I make sure to actually sit down and critically evaluate them, research them where possible. I have seen way too many people splash their opinions all over my facebook page. I calmly ask them why exactly they hold these beliefs, putting forward my own thoughts on the matter, which I have actually taken the time to think about. Every time I make sure to add what has become my standard debate signature: "If you can address these points, I would gladly re-evaluate my opinion."

Unfortunately, no-one seems to think that logical, well thought out debate has any place on the internet, and interpret me asking them to justify their opinions as me attacking them. If they actually responded to the points I made, I wouldn't care so much. But, they very rarely do.

There was one particular political issue recently that Richard Melons, the fourth resident of the Dude Ranch, was very vocal about. Now, everyone is entitled to believe whatever they want, this is something I've always felt. However, if you are going to start actively promoting your beliefs, you have a responsibility to address the arguments of your detractors. So, I responded. I'm not going to name the movement that he was putting his support behind, but let's just say that a significant portion of the ideas making up the foundation of their belief system can be completely discredited with a single google search. Failing that, logic and reason. Again, I am not going to go into the specifics. 

The comment I made brought up a few of the most important points that I felt needed to be addressed by anyone supporting this movement. I made sure to keep my tone as neutral as I could, keeping to the simple facts of the matter. I made sure to include my "signature", saying that I would gladly re-evaluate my opinion if these questions were answered. It was the only facebook comment I have ever seen that included more than one "See More" button.

The response I got (not from Tricky Ricky, but from a friend of his) at first made me literally start shaking with frustration. Now, I just think it's funny.

Instead of actually replying to any of the points I'd raised, this young gentleman instead decided to make an attack on my character. This was a guy who had never actually met me, so it's safe so to say everything he said was wrong, so wrong, wrong to hysterical proportions.

Basically, he painted me as the only type of person he could imagine would dare to disagree with him. Here is a direct quote, in all its glory:

"To improve ourselves we must consume and consume to make a living. This is the only truth to heaven, to Narvina. I am sure Jesus, Mohammod and Buddha all owns a BMW. To keep the system running, you must work hard to get yourself one, or else you are unfaithful and deserves the eternal flame. I believe capitalism is best invention human has created. Although billions of people gets nothing, but some people gets EVERYTHING. This gives us the illusion that we ALL get SOMETHING, and I am happy. We don't need to care about hungry kids in Africa, because our kids have hungry jacks and HAPPY meals. Watching the war in middle east saves me 14 bucks from watching Lord of the Rings in the cinema. But you must admit, Lady Gaga is much more interesting."

Where he went wrong:

1. Consumerism. I am dirt poor. I can't afford to buy anything that is not an essential item for remaining alive, and I am actively selling my possessions. Because I am poor. Despite this, I do actually still donate to charity. I just research my charities first.

2. The BMW. Here is a list of the modes of transport I own:

1x broken down scooter. Answers to the name of Raphael, or at least it would if it were a sentient being.

1x second hand bicycle, which I bought before realising I was too short to actually ride it. By this time, the previous owner had left the country.

1x rollerblades, found on the side of the road. As yet untested.

3. Lady Gaga. It is safe to say this guy hasn't heard of any of my favourite bands. It is even safe to say he hasn't heard of any of my favourite genres. A typical favourite song of mine usually consists of a twenty minute marimba solo, sampled through a collection of pine cones arranged in the shape of Tony Danza's face.*

4. Agreeing blindly with the government. I have been actively involved in political protests since I was fifteen. I was able to directly link him to an anti-censorship group I started that now has over 13,000 members. I even joined the Socialist Alliance once, albeit by accident (a story for another time).

5. Also he spelled Nirvana wrong. Not that I really need to be picky here.

Honestly, I feel like before I started using the internet I thought your average human being was a lot more intelligent. Seriously people, you have to actually think about the things you are told. Watching one documentary makes you neither an expert nor a revolutionary.

-Smackie Onassis

*I was expressing this opinion to Vegatrain, using that example. He stopped me and said "You had to add that bit about Tony Danza because you realised you were describing a real song you have listened to, didn't you?" He was right, the bastard

Cast of Characters

If you have been perusing my blog without reading the introductory post, you may have noticed that I refer to people by code names, for reasons of both privacy and hilarity (Meattrain is particularly adament about never revealing his true identity, like the meat-based superhero he is). It has been brought to my attention that the code names I am using are becoming increasingly ridiculous. Personally, I think they have remained at a pretty consistent level of ridiculous, but that's just my opinion.

However last night, while trying to sit out a particularly awful migraine, I started coming up with some potential code names. What I ended up with instead was a list of characters that I would love to see combined in some kind of mildly plausible fictitious setting. They started almost reasonable (for me, at least), but very quickly got more and more ridiculous.

Cast Of Characters:

Little Johnny Applesauce

Baxter Isafence

Jason Faceonacup, the mug collector

Abe L. Trolleycopter

Sasketchiwa Johnstone, the beef haunter

Clones 'The Cloner' Clonington and his seven piece one man band

Holy Jeremiah Heel, the street walker

Lonesome Jim Hula-hoop, the solitary hero

Gentle Dolly, the village proctologist

'Colonel' Ipswich Von Beardington, the clean shaven bus-driver

Old Man Crimestalker, the vigilant vigilante

Beans McGee, the ventriloquist with his charming off-sider;

"Raphael", an allegedly sentient tin of beans with a keen interest in politics

This entry is my written promise to create a piece of fiction that includes every one of these characters. I will probably do it later today, even. I'm not going to lie to you, the idea excites me, just a little bit too much.

-Smackie Onassis

Neck Roberts

I could probably explain how the whole Neck Roberts thing began, but it still most likely wouldn't make a lick of sense*. However, I can have a go at telling an abridged history of the Neck Roberts phenomenon. Because it is a phenomenon, let me assure you.

I was in a local pub when I came up with the idea, as I was examining the display of free postcards. You know the ones, little rectangles of advertising, usually with no room to actually write a message. I honestly think that I might be the only one who has ever actually bothered attaching a stamp to these and sending them on.  But I hadn't, before Neck Roberts.

There I was, examining the postcard collection for any winners. As I often do, I ended up going away with a handful of them. They were doomed for the recycling bin, like so many of their free postcard counterparts, until I absent-mindedly started writing on them. 

See, Neck Roberts was a name Vegatrain and I had come up with a few days before. I think I briefly made it my display name on facebook, for no real reason. If anybody called me on it, I planned to just pretend it had always been my name and I didn't know what they were talking about. Luckily, my friends know me well enough at this point to not even bother attempting to call me out on being an absurd human being. At first I would just label whatever I was doing as 'modern art', and see what I could get any with. Now, I don't even need to. Most people in my life have made their peace with the fact that I don't make much sense a good majority of the time.

Anyway, somehow in the course of that night, I started writing on those postcards. I took a common expression/advertising slogan, replaced one word with the word 'neck', signed it as Neck Roberts and sent them to a guy I went to high school with. Whom I haven't seen in a year.

Later, I asked him if he'd received them. He admitted that he had, but hastily tried to change the subject and pretend it had never happened. Not so fast, pal.

The next incident occurred few months later when I was in Melbourne visiting a friend. We were out and about when I came across a veritable treasure trove of free postcards. Again, I wrote on them, signed them as Neck Roberts and sent them. If you're wondering just what exactly I have been writing on these cards, here are a few examples:

Top of the neck to you!

A neck is for life, not just for Christmas

Have a nice neck!

Necks - it's what's for dinner.

And so on. There have been a few separate batches now, and every now and then that friend from Melbourne texts me new neck-related phrases, which I store away for future reference. The recipient (always the same guy) is still trying as hard as he can to pretend this is not happening which, if I'm being quite honest, just encourages me to do it even more.

Neckfully yours,

Smackie Onassis

*Come to think of it, the saying "lick of sense" doesn't make a lot of sense itself. Licks are for delicious ice-creams, not abstract concepts.

Mysterious Free Drinks Night At The Pub

Back in my hometown, there wasn't a great deal of unique and interesting entertainment options. There were, however, an absurd amount of pubs. Australians always talk about how there is a pub on every corner, most places you go. In my hometown, there was a pub on every corner, then another one next door and a few more along the street.

One of my favourite places to go of an evening was the local "bohemian" joint, the Lass O'Gowrie, universally referred to as The Lass. It looked like your regular dive bar, falling on the literal "wrong side of the tracks". It was situated right next to the train line that neatly separated the cosmopolitan, upper-middle class suburb on one side from the favourite hang outs of the local junkie and prostitute population on the other. One of my favourite pieces of graffiti was near there, a road sign where someone had painted over the word 'cameras' so it read "Speed used in this area". I giggled every time I drove past it.

But the Lass, the Lass was wonderful. There was live music most nights, usually played by friends of mine (the local muso scene tended to be fairly close-knit), and also usually free. The food was unexpectedly brilliant, with more vegetarian cuisine than a dirty hippie such as myself could poke a carbon-neutral stick at. It was the only pub I've ever been to that had a cat living on it's premises. I can't imagine how much that cat has had to deal with over the years.

One of the best nights out I ever had in that town was when my friend Guitarstrings Wilson and I headed to the Lass for a few quiet beers. When we arrived, the place was fuller than I'd ever seen it, and most of the people there were friends of mine. Curiously, there was free food circulating, and no-one seemed to be charging me for drinks. I chose not to question this for fear that saying it out loud might somehow make it go away.

Apparently, the venue was technically closed that night for a private function. It was the birthday party of the owner's daughter, a girl I had never actually met. However, because I apparently knew every single one of her close friends, everyone sort of assumed that I had been invited, and that Guitarstrings Wilson was my +1 for the night. 

I don't think I even met the host at her own birthday party, but my presence was just sort of accepted, even embraced. I wasn't exactly going to say no to free food and drinks, either.

It is safe to say that I came out that night well under budget.

-Smackie Onassis

Smackie Onassis Fails At Pets

I've had a bunch of pets in my time, all spread over the first twenty or so years of my life. My first was a little budgie named Pepino (according to google, this is the name of a plant native to South America. I am not sure why my parents would have chosen that name). After that, a parade of other budgies followed. I'm not sure how many there were in total, but we never had more than two at a time. Apart from the budgies there was my cat, Tigger, who was the most significant man in my life until he died of kidney failure and broke my heart. There was also a goldfish named Chips and a "black ghost knife fish", whose name escapes me, probably because he died after about fifteen minutes. The most beloved of all my pets was Tigger, by far, but he wasn't necessarily the most memorable.

When my sixteenth birthday was approaching, my friends asked me what I wanted for a present.

"An axelotl," I remember replying definitively. I'm not sure where I got the idea to ask for a Mexican walking fish for my birthday, or why I was so insistent. I think I just thought it was a funny thing to ask for. I don't think that I honestly expected anyone to get me one. But, whenever one of my friends came back and asked me what I wanted, serious answers only this time, I insisted that I wanted an axelotl.

A bunch of my friends turned up at my party that year together, carrying what they had pooled together to get me. An axelotl, complete with a tank and a whole bunch of other accessories. As in, like, things to feed it, not like, tiny boots and hats and stuff. Although that would have been pretty cool too. The important thing is that they actually humoured me to the extent of buying me a freaking axelotl. I was over the moon. The look on my parents' faces when they saw the tank reminded me that I hadn't thought to inform them about the possibility of receiving a living creature as a gift, but too bad for them, I guess. I do remember getting a request from them before my seventeenth birthday, and then for a few more birthdays after that, to the tune of "Please don't ask for anything alive this year".

In the meantime though, I had Pablo, my axelotl. He was the best. He spent the entire day swimming around with a stupid fishy grin on his face, unintentionally teasing the cat and eating meal worms (the fact that I had to keep those in our fridge was another thing my mother loved, let me tell you that much).

But, when the summertime came, Pablo really started feeling the heat. He got pretty sick and spent most of his days sort of floating around miserably. He wouldn't eat his meal worms. I was concerned for his wellbeing.

The bad news eventually came when I was being picked up from a regional drama camp. I remember the conversation vividly.

Dr Dad: Smackie, I've got some good news and some bad news.

Smackie: Give it to me straight, doc.*

Dr Dad: The bad news is that Pablo died.

Smackie: Ok. I thought that might be it.

Dr Dad: The good news is we kept his body in the fridge for you.

Smackie: Th... thanks.

At first I thought it might be some kind of joke. You know how doctors always seem to develop morbid senses of humour. But no, when we arrived home there was a little foil package next to the marmalade that contained the deceased body of my pet. To this day, I have no idea what they expected me to do with it, or why they thought I would actually want them to do this. Maybe it was all just revenge for the meal worms. However, because I was so flabbergasted about the whole thing, I did what any rational person would.

I left it there. I pretended that the whole unfortunate incident had never happened, and that the little foil parcel contained nothing but some kind of mystery leftover.

After a good month or so, Dr Dad approached me and asked me if I minded if they disposed of Pablo's body. I told him a bit too quickly that I was ok with that.

-Smackie Onassis

*This isn't actually what I said. But then again, my name's not actually Smackie Onassis, either.

Ride The Meattrain

Today when Meattrain got home from work, he told me that there were three things he did at work today.

1. Read a facebook message I had sent him re: fisting.

2. Read my blog

3. Start his own blog

He was a bit distraught that the name 'Ride The Meat Train' was taken (WHO IS USING THIS NAME? WHO?), but then settled on Let The Meat Cake.

I am glad he has adopted this nickname.

-Smackie Onassis

What's In My Bookmarks Bar?

 - Wikipedia page for Richard von Krafft-Ebing's "Psychopathia Sexualis"

 - Ebay store selling reasonably-priced mandolins

 - A pug licking the screen (so adorable)

 - Leviticus Jewelry, an online store that sells just the best pirate-ship ring

 - Costume Dogs

 - World Of Solitaire

 - RhymeZone, a really great rhyming dictionary

The Joys Of Hard Rubbish

It's Hard Rubbish time in our neighbourhood right now. This seems to be a phenomenon that is known by different names all over, but remains the same wherever you go. For those who know it as something different, I'm talking about the glorious few days where everyone puts the stuff they want to get rid off out onto the curb and then everyone else goes around scavenging. Kinda like a garage sale, only everything is free, and taking it is technically illegal. It's great.

I've been going for a lot of walks these last few days. I haven't really been intending to come home with a bunch of junk, but I do anyway. I have found too many things that have been just too hard to resist.

The best, by far, has been the old-school hospital wheelchair that I found. It was only a block away, surrounded by a bunch of normal chairs. At first Vegatrain didn't believe that it was a "wheelchair", but rather just a chair on wheels. I assure you, it's a wheelchair. The proof came when we lifted up the cushion and saw that it had a toilet-bowl shaped hole in the seat, for doing one's business. We are thinking about putting it in the courtyard, with a bucket under the hole and a sign that says "Guest Bathroom".

I also came home the other day with a pair of perfectly good rollerblades. I don't understand, are wheels out of fashion now? Either way, I don't care, because free rollerblades. I will be the girl who rolls from place to place, blading my troubles away.

Naturally, I have now been keeping my eyes peeled (wow, I only just realised how awful of an expression that is. I don't know in what sense eyes are supposed to be peeled, but I want no part of it) for excellent finds. The problem is, I occasionally get a bit too excited and find myself thinking 'Wow, someone's throwing out a VESPA!' before realising that they have, in fact, just parked their Vespa next to the curb, near the hard rubbish.

This led me to wonder if anyone has ever actually stolen someone's vehicle in this manner. Which led me to wondering if this would be an acceptable defense in court. Most people would say that stupidity is probably not a valid legal defense. They would be wrong. Well actually, no, they would be right, but that doesn't mean people haven't attempted to use it.

You may remember, a few years ago, there were two Australians working in a ski resort in Canada. These two geniuses attempted to hold up a bank, forgetting that they were still wearing their work uniforms, complete with name tags. One of these guys had actually been a patient of my father's for some time in the past. When the legal trouble began, his mother went and saw Dr Dad and asked if he could write her a medical certificate. She apparently thought that it was worth a shot to see if she could get an expert medical opinion proclaiming that her son was so certifiably stupid that it was actually a medical condition. She thought this might help his case. Dr Dad did not agree to help her out.

Good on her for trying, though. I like to see creativity in the legal system.

-Smackie Onassis

While I'm On The Subject

Here are some of my ideas for niche porns (I must warn you, some of these are pretty tasteless):

Hot Bisexual Teens Read English Poetry:

Does the thought of rhyming couplets get you going? Does the thought of long, winding phrases about trees make you start to sweat? Does the idea of a hot bisexual teen with perfect diction really sound like your cup of tea? Look no further than 'Hot Bisexual Teens Read English Poetry', coming soon to an internet near you.

Highly Questionable Terminal Illness Porn:

A barely legal blonde gets breast cancer ("the sexiest cancer"). Feeling sorry for the busty teen, an all-lesbian crew of nurses decide to find out her dying wish and then grant it to her. It turns out that she wants nothing more than to have sex with local amateur film sensation Derek Studly. He grants her dying wish and a whole lot more...

Hot Man On Train Action:

Did you collect trains when you were younger? Did the feel of the smooth, cold metal give you a twitch that you couldn't quite explain? Watch as four men revisit their childhood collections with an added gusto, before guiding each other's "trains" into their "stations". The hot, train-related action will be sure to get your engine steaming!

Ok, I am done. Before anyone starts with the whole 'You should be ashamed of yourself' deal, don't worry, I already am.

-Smackie Onassis

On The Entertainment Value of Fetish Porn

Most people who know me are probably aware that I totally dig fetishes. I don't get aroused by them, or use them for any kind of sexual purpose at all really, but holy hell, I can't get enough of them. I find them both hysterically funny and intensely fascinating.

I'm about to start a psychology degree by correspondence. While the whole subject of psychology is interesting to me, I'm hoping to eventually do post-graduate research. Specifically in the area of sexual fetishes. Because, man, what even the hell. When someone has a fetish for swallowing another person whole and then inflating to twice their size before pooing them out (This is a real fetish. There are whole forums on the internet dedicated to it.), I just... I mean, just why... how, even? I want to know.

Last night, Meattrain brought up a fetish that he finds particularly funny, the one that involves getting your jollies by cooking and eating someone. Or, alternatively being cooked and eaten yourself. In a simpler time, there might have been one or two cases of these kinds of people ever finding each other and actually carrying out these acts. Then in the first week of the internet, there was ten of them*. I had, of course, heard a lot about this fetish, and followed the legal battles that always ensued when the courts were all "Hey! You murdered that dude and ate him!" and got the strange and unexpected response of "Yeah, but he was totally gagging for it."

Meattrain asked me if I had actually seen any of their porn. I hadn't, because unlike my housemate, I have a soul. However, when he described just how funny it was, I started getting pretty curious. See, it's very hard to make acceptable porn for a fetish that involves cooking and eating another human being. You can't have sex with someone you've just skinned and boiled, I guess. The way these guys have dealt with this is to make soft-core porn that consists of attractive women, trussed up and covered with food. Meattrain described one image he particularly liked where a women was done up to look like a turkey, complete with a banana sticking into her "lady bits". Naturally, his main problem with this image was the fact that you can't put banana with turkey because it would plain old ruin the flavour. He suggested a parsnip instead, although Vegatrain thought a carrot would do the job nicely.

After this discussion, Vegatrain and I went into the courtyard for a tea-break, and I couldn't help mentioning how I excited I was to look up this website. Vegatrain responded by burping loudly, explaining that with my talking about porn he wanted to give the worst possible impression of us to any neighbours who might be listening. I agreed and played it up to the best of my ability.

Smackie: I am sure looking forward to a large serving of porns tonight.

Vegatrain: The women in porn are often looking forward to large servings themselves!

I didn't actually end up looking up those images, as my computer promptly decided it didn't want anything to do with it and refused to let me do anything but listen to twee pop and play pokemon like a good little girl.

But, if you're that curious, I looked it up just now and it is pretty disturbing.

Warning: That link is not safe for work, unless you work in a place called Kannibal Kitchen, which I'm pretty sure doesn't exist at all, so why would you lie like that?

-Smackie Onassis

*not verifiable (i.e. I made that up)