The block continues! Like a marathon runner stumbling in the final few kilometres of the championship race. I’m basically dead in the water at this stage, flapping hopelessly on the keyboard like a goldfish plucked from the bowl. Generally, I’d just pick the next ludicrous story from, but most of the coverage lately has been dedicated to the American school shooting, severely limiting my options (black humour about dead kids generally doesn’t get a laugh, surprisingly). For those of you playing at home, it has now been revealed that the alleged killers’ mother was a doomsday prepper, just like the other crazy Americans I detailed in an entry from a couple of days ago. Just as I said, all the prepping in the world can’t prepare you for the unexpected (namely, getting shot in the face by your demented son – allegedly).

Well, that was bleak, wasn’t it!

Speaking of bleak, on my way out to the golf course in Yan Yean on the weekend, I passed a multitude of ‘pop-up’ suburbs; large residential developments erected in the middle of nowhere to cater for Australian society’s insatiable desire to live in the largest house possible at the absolute minimum cost. I’m not just talking about a house here or there either; these were fully-blown townships with kitsch names designed to entice prospective buyers. Most of them were uglier than Julia Gillard on the vinegar stroke too…

I’m honestly surprised that none of them were called ‘Pleasantville’, because that’s the type of artificial reality one can expect if they purchase a home in one of these places. Sure, they might market ‘lovely lakeside views’, but what they don’t tell you is that the lake is just a filtration system for the development, removing toxins from the water accumulated from the surrounding properties. It’s not there for your enjoyment, it’s there because the Environmental Planning Agency requires it to be there.


Why must some people live in a 5 bedroom rendered monstrosity anyway? Most only have a couple of children, it’s just that they’ve bought into the societal rhetoric of 2012 that insists that bigger has, is and will always be better in any facet of life. Big tits, big teeth, big car, big money, big mouth; the list goes on and on, so why should your house be any different? Sure, you might be half an hour away from any form of culture whatsoever, but hey, at least you’ve got a two car garage to park your overpowered ute & your wife’s Chrysler PT Cruiser in! I mean, sure, she might not love you, but as long as you keep buying assorted knick knacks to go in the house (“Ooh, that porcelain figurine is lovely, isn’t it honey?”), she won’t leave you.

She’ll just fuck the 17 year-old kid on school holidays next door while you work at a job you despise to buy her things to try and fill the void that your love for each other once filled…

/end communication