Thursday, November 15, 2012

The Correct Methods of Jazz Education

At least half our house likes Ike
I gave up trying to influence my daughters’ musical tastes several years ago. When they were tiny, they had no choice other than to dance to the vinyl tracks I played them every night after bath-time. I compiled for my older daughter, who was four at the time, a cassette of her favoured singalongs. It included The Pogues and Ian Dury, and one day, without my knowledge, she put it in her lunch box and took it to play to her little friends at kindergarten.

That same afternoon a thunder-faced teacher met me at the door to ‘Children In The Shoe’, demanding to know why I was allowing my child to listen to “filthy, obscene” music. “I had to literally run across the room and turn it off!” she scolded. I mumbled that I’d no idea how she had such an item in her possession. This craven lie foundered on the cassette’s label, in adult handwriting, which read ‘Xxxxx’s Favourites’. I suspect it was only my daughter’s generally carefree demeanour that prevented the kindergarten from making a call to social services.

In a few years, both daughters realised their contemporaries were all listening to Shite FM, and for a long time resented me for having shielded them from the common

Monday, November 05, 2012

Copulating Carrots Tell Us All We Need To Know About Obama's America

Pure evil, in carrot form (pic: SAHIP)
For anyone still doubting the depths of moral decadence that America has sunk to under the Obama administration over the past four years, I present the following hard, raw evidence that this country has descended to new levels of sexual depravity encouraged by the permissive liberal climate – same-genre vegetables openly copulating in my fridge (see above). The disgusting and graphic picture I am duty-bound to reproduce here reflects the same kind of licentious, intra-grocery fornication that could well be happening in refrigerators across the United States right now.

Imagine my shock when I opened the fridge door with the wholesome goal of making a nourishing, vitamin-rich, family values-inspired soup, only to be confronted with this naked display of hardcore penetration by two rutting root vegetables of the same colour and the same grotesque phallic shape. And once caught, did they stop, cry out in shame and then scuttle for separate vegetable drawers? No, they unblushingly continued to interlock right in front of my eyes, as though the watching gaze of a third party was mere fuel to their unspeakable lust.

I could have shut the door, sealed off the fridge with duct tape, dragged it outside, doused it with diesel, and then set the whole loathsome device aflame. After all, the fridge is culpable too in this seething tale of seedling seediness, having provided the sluttish food items with the cold den of iniquity for their vile, whorish behaviour.