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Haiti disaster blamed on pact with devil

January 15th 2010 23:38

American televangelist Pat Robertson has blamed Paris Hilton and a woman who allegedly tried to relieve the pain suffered by American televangelist Pat Robertson, who spent eight days trapped in Britain, Canada and Spain and is being treated for dehydration while revolted, and got to trade her two-year-old daughter, for a "mystery object" in my throat and windpipe, she explained, adding that the object will pass within 130,000km of God, meaning there is no chance Pat Robertson was willing to try to commit suicide "if anything happened to journalists," one man yelled out angrily, shaking, and saw what looked like blood due to an electrical fault and also criticised the woman, who lived alone, and might be a spent rocket booster.

But it's not news to the world's shortest and tallest men attacked and killed by her now ex-boyfriend - which turned out to be a person after the discovery of a tumour behind a moving ambulance in July 2007 , narrowly missing two pedestrians , this time barricading the door , and told me my heart-rate was irregular -- and 53 plants up to 100cm tall were found growing there , with one newspaper likening US President Barack Obama to a traditional Maori , which was "an important issue to us" so obviously Australians have been quite affected by maternal and infant mortality, malnutrition, cardiovascular illnesses, HIV and other infectious diseases such as American televangelist Pat Robertson , narrowly missing two pedestrians as he plunged for that length of time trapped in a moving ambulance - which turned out to be a "mystery object".

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Posted By: Norm - Category: True Stories, Nutty, Corny, Muddy, Rocky

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Words and Letters: elements and atoms

August 9th 2008 00:56

A word has no inherent meaning other than that which we attribute to it. If words were truth, a dog would be dog wherever you were. That a dog is not a dog in all parts of the globe speaks volumes for where the truth lies. A dog is a living panting thing, like a chair is a dead sitting thing. Chair means dog, if you and me understand that it does. It means nothing at all if there is no understanding. If you don't understand me, it's hadly my fault, now is it?

Chair, by that I mean dog, becomes a choir, if you understand that an A is more or less an O (both being vowelly flexible in their essential openness as sounds). "Ch" sounding like it should in the former and like a "Q" in the latter. How's that for logic! The letters that words are composed of having no direct relation to the sounds that they relate to. The sound of an A looks nothing like an A but is of course best represented as belonging to the mouth (not tongue) that forms the sound.

A wee slip of the tongue can turn any one word to another and any one word can be turned to a neighbour and become that neighbour. By that, every word is but a poor representation of another. A letter being only an actor for a real sound. A word being only an actor for a real thing. If it sounds like nonsense to you, then join the chew. In all this it's not drawing a long one to say that there is nothing we don't have a word for. Even nothing has a word: nothing. Even though nothing doesn't exist. Nothing isn't real. It's nowhere to be found.

Words and letters are tools. Absolute tools! It's not a stench to say that the way an animal uses body language and sounds to communicate is the same as us. That stinks! They form a shape with their body: a word, and match it with a sound: language, to get a root and a feed or to save their skin. They form sentences in the shape of groups for survival. Or is that the other way around? I have to talk my chair for a walk, so it's goodbye from me and it's goodbye from you. Goodbye :~)

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Games, Grilled, Sweet, Muddy

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Recipe for Self-delusion

August 1st 2008 01:21

Pretend that you're making a difference in a big head. In a separate pun, cook off some mushy aggression. Take your opinions and beat off until tender. When the pun of big words smell, begin to slowly add the comments. Brown off until the whole thing sets a fight. Quickly strangle the chicken, making sure that it makes a loud noise. Set aside.

After a few days have pissed, put the whole lot in a pre-headed shovel and put on a low heat. Stammer. On a chopping block, deduce something from specious raisons. Chop infinitely. Get the cut feelings and pretend to be aggrieved. Mix, wailing at the top of your farce. Beat the whole thing into a deluded mass. Call someone a few names, obliquely. Cower behind the write-goods. Bash over the head with your big words. Stand.

Tickle out of the oven. In a large word, pretend to be good and kindly. Be an authority. Run for cover when you're found out. Cut with a blithering knife. Label the sauce on the serving pate. Spin the delusion to sound intellectual. Using big words, continuously. Dot with silent points. Sprinkle with errant forks. Add the opinions and serve cold. Take your spin and put in your mouth. Masticate. Swallow. Digest. Excrete. Repeat until deceased. Serves 6 billion.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Food, Baked, Sour, Muddy

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Recipe for Scrambled Logic on Toast

July 30th 2008 22:41

Whistle your eggs in a bile with your bleaters into wide pokes.
In a flying pun, meld a tamponspanner of buttocks.
Add your opinions.
Fly until goaded.
Remove from the pun and quietly dud the eggs.
Stare contemptuosly, making sure not to spurn your laughers.
Take one crass of read-whinge. Drunk.
In a simpering pun clock up some spoiled spades.
Boil until mad with rouge. Drink some more whinge.
When the opinions are as you lick them, smash your head against a prickwall.
Toast to your goaded heart. Muddle.
Place in a large monitor and bake for 2 yards.
Dash the opinions, head, eggs, ogles into your toast.
Sneezing to taste.
Garnish with harps.
Good appetite!

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Food, Scrambled, Sweet, Muddy

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Germaine Greer: I have AIDS, spread it around

July 27th 2008 00:23

Dinner-dishing whore, kitchen-bound prostitute, ghost-writer for Al Gore, closet Christian, uterus on legs, terrorist pilot, eulogist for the dearly deported, Germaine Greer has contracted AIDS after being at the centre of a gang-bang of left-leaning nut-jobs.

"I was the first person to get the disease," she explained, as she flailed the decaying carcass of notional hero, Steve Irwin.

"Mother Teresa told me in a dream to infect the world with joy," she said, using a sting-ray's barb for a toothpick.

"I'm afraid the best I could do was spread disease," the Amazonian veteran of numerous beneficient government funds said, eyeing off her African victims.

The disease, not in the Bible, should be. It's just that good at killing the poor and ignorant.

God, it's a testament to your greatness.

"It's a ripper!" Bible-pashers told themselves as the world, spinning on its axis, went about its grinning.

"Crikey, if God is love then I'm a monkey's uncle," Greer preached, picking fleas from her avuncularly shaped testicles, as she prepared a service for her congregation.

God, only humans form families.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Health, Baked, Bitter, Muddy

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Alternative medicine practitioner captured after living in disguise as a murderous thug

July 23rd 2008 01:32

The whacky quack, who wrote prescriptions, novels, on a blog, who wore clothes supplied by pharmacuetical companies, a beard, a logo, who bumped off a few Muslims, who thanked God, who used to love Elvis, who ate Jesus-burgers buttered with peanuts, who dug mass graves, who dug Jazz, who craved immortality, who ran from the Lord, who raised many for his charity, who swore in public, whose hands were tried, who worked in a football clinic for over-privileged children, who fought the law and the Lord won, who drove a Chrysler, who loved his country house, who washed up after dinner like a gentryman, who washed up before dinner like a hygienist, a boner, a grief-digger, who cleaned his hands after finishing the race, the enemy, who went nuts and drank flat beer, secondhand smack, has been found ruling an army in the guise of a General.

Stylists for the Doctor are pleased with his new look, his new smell, his new ardour, his new apparel, his new gunsmith, his new shovel, his new sallow crave, his tickling time bum, his sense of stale, and have praised his manners, his ettiquette, his practice, his posture, his hymning voice, his advice, his orders, and have laughed off calls he was ever a doctor, a medicinal practitioner, an educated manager of disease.

"Hahaha," they said, smiling, waving, bending over backwards, trying on a new hat, new undies, new Coke, new car, new stereo, new microwave, new TV, new baby.

"We're not happy about our bodies," the dysmorphic dead have whispered in the rear of the perceptive, the recepticals, the holier-than-hell, the morbidly obtuse, the trendy and inwardly mobile.

"Do I look like a New Age guy?" the brutal SNAG mused, wondered, pondered, all the while brushing his bushy beard, fiddling, playing, with his celloist, his conductor, his nurse, his assistant, losing his patience, his virtue, his vice, his hammer, his suckle.

You be the judge.

I'll just be trying.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Health, Scrambled, Sweet, Muddy

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The US of A, coming to a battlefield near you, your house, and family

July 12th 2008 02:46

The USA, perhaps the greatest country in the world, probably the greatest country on earth, easily the greatest country in history, internet provider, cradler of civilization, and timeless monolith, is the greatest place I've ever read about.

It has rolling hills, not rolling heads, skies of blue, democracy in abundance. In fact the taps run red with the blood of patriots and defenders of freedom who dried tomatoes for the good of everyone else.

The land is the home of educated and it also has immigrants who floundered the land in 1776 when they stumbled out of their boat. By chance, they were English-Spanish. Colon cancer was rife at the time.

The native Indians, eating curry and wearing funny hats, gladly accept the customs of the Mexicans who gladly gave over California in 10 BC. At the time, President Ronald Reagan was still riding his grandmother's hearse.

If you should ever, and you only will if you have a natural resource they covet, cross the US of A be sure to go nicely. They hate to use the big stick but live only for the love of life. You're not yellow, are you?

The USA: Go there, girlfriends! Before it comes to you.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Money, Baked, Bitter, Muddy

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Satan announced as Obama's running mate

June 30th 2008 02:48

The fallen angel, suspected terrorist, keeper of souls, habitual masturbator, pro-Chaucer and Democrat has aggrieved to appear on the ballot with long-time friend, business associate and fellow mister of deceit Barack Obama.

"A vote for Obama is a vote for me" Satan himself said wearing a grin from oar to oar.

The two Satanists, in the same boat, believe that killing children is the American way and running with scissors on wet tails.

God, strangely silent for the last few centuries, is a vocal campaigner for the innocent.

"I'll do everything in my power to save the lives of children," the all mighty one told scribes who had smoked the burning bush as Japanese Vealers remembered Hiroshima.

The two camps, Good and Evil, are, for the first time, to go head to horny head in a vote that will at last bring Armageddon.

"We can't wait," a cured foetus told the pus-driveller on the way to school.

God, tired, is on the record as vowing to send his son, conceived through unconsentual sex and out of wedlock to another man's wiff, to sort out the white from the wrong.

"Jesus, that's me!" he said, wanking up late one day.

We're all adults here.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Love, Grilled, Bitter, Muddy

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Corby's brothers on A Downer

June 23rd 2008 01:20

The elder brother (left) claims to be able to hear your thoughts while the younger one (rightly), claiming to be older, is thinking of a number between 19 and 21 years

The high-flying fraternal dribblings of committed drug muelse Schapelle Corby have giggled off claims by A Downer that they were behind their half-fister's spell in the joint.

"I can't be bothered," they said as they said as they said.

"They're trying to bring us down, man!" said the one with the scissors.

A Downer, an upper-crass slob and putty mouth, told detractors that he told the two swarthy men in private: "No funny business or I'll have you departed."

The departed, the fatally deceased, have been seen by potty-heads in the screams of smack eliminating from the clamber of their smacking impediments.

It's funny how sisters bear the guillotine of their brothers.

"It's a lot of buggage to handle," said one of the banana fratters as he lounged.

About the house -

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Family, Scrambled, Sweet, Muddy

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Liberal member of parliament gives birth to a bouncing baby demon

June 17th 2008 13:09

As predelicted by ALP soothslayer and acclaimed French siren Gerard Depardieu (pictured), the formerly heavily pregnant tinkerer of evil thoughts and Liberal stalled-wart gave a wide birth to the demon in a ritual's laughter.

"I hate to say I told you so," the flagrant frog told the depressed mother as Dr. Nelson delivered the demon from the evil clutches of the Liberal party drink tank.

In a mark of the best and brightest, we are represented by huff-wits and snakey ladders.

"Keep your nose out of my business, de Bergerac!" the expectant mater told Depardieu as dentists inspected her cavities.

The demon seed, in an ominous warming for the human-annoyed race, is expected to become the next Australian idol.

Damien Leith, the last idol and gnome's sick, was on hand to welcome his holy darkness into his farcical manifestation.

"He's got a green horn!" saucy nurses salivated as they cut the cards and handed the little bundle of jaws over too.

Evil thoughts carry evil deeds to the lower house and beyonder, bubby.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Family, Grilled, Spicy, Muddy

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Sex is great for pregnancy says Angelina Joile

June 14th 2008 01:58

Pregnant transmanian devil in the sack, distinct, specious, and reasonable spokesperson for all crumbers, wiff to a buttonless pot and tractor, Angelina Jolie has forgotten where she was after such an intro.

"All I can say is that making your own is more fun," she said after pressing the buzzer to the question while her dildo was awry on holiday.

It is understood that when a man and a woman or a man and a woman or a man and a woman or a tube love each other very much, the man puts his penis in the woman's vagina, then doesn't know what to do when it slips out, as it invariably does, but is rescued from acute embarrassment when the woman does, then with a little effort, or great deal, or none at all, the man finishes, wakes the woman up and says: "Wake up!".

I think there's someone downstairs.

Jolie denies that such things haven't transpired between her and her hubcap.

"Now that I'm preggers," the bogan chic daughter of Jobe told milk-bar proprietors, "I'm having a baby."

Her husband Tom and Nicole said in repose: "We're just slipping out for a bit."

Impossible.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Love, Scrambled, Spicy, Muddy

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Norm: I'm a man trapped inside the body of a man

May 30th 2008 00:57

Topical cancer and world-renounced waddler Norm has told his doctors of his despair-tire over the facts of laugh.

"I need a sex change," the celebrated abductor said as he nuzzled up to his shotty.

"Some, for a change," he explained, looking down the barrels of bodies in his fault.

"He really needs this," a nurse attending Norm told police as they swapped her.

Norm, who some have descried as the best thing since sliced head, is understood to be trapped inside his very body.

"I have described myself thus," Norm said, picking pellets out of his teeth.

"Don't call me chicken," he said as he hatched a planet.

Doctors believe that we are all trapped inside our bodices.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: People, Baked, Sour, Muddy

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Insectarian head threatens to give gays head-chop

May 23rd 2008 02:04

The religiously zealous head of a colony of the US has vowed vengeance on his butter enemies: the fragrantly humoursexual.

"I can't wait to get my hands on my machete so I can give it to a sinner," the head of stale told his fairy godfather.

Told to never go against the family, the head has vowed to merry his chide-hood sweety in a ceremony to be presided over by laundryrefrigerator Elton John.

"I miss Daniel too, but not that much," Elton John told his piano tuner as he played with his keys.

The perfect machete at the centre of the head-chop allegations being launched at closet armysexual Tania Zaetta will ulcer, accordion to players, see heads rule.

Heads of all notions are lathering adults.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: People, Scrambled, Spicy, Muddy

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Monsters move in on Neighbours

May 4th 2008 00:37

Channel No. Ten's flagrantly leathery soap Neighbours is being forced to watch itself as Big Brother moves in dangerously close on its slot.

"No one else is watching, and we've run out of ideas," said perennial pansies getting out of bed incredulously eerily to shoot.

Neighbours are worried that Big Brother, a sect's monster, could indoctrinate the kids of tomorrow with the idea that they are as spatial as they thank.

Moot to the point, they're worried about anybody touching their slot that they've kept intact for yours.

"It's true to Orwell's vision," former hairline-hostess Gretel Killeen told floaters.

"He needed spectacles. I need glasses." she dribbled as she sank yet another shout.

We should all be hardened by our unthanking youths.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Entertainment, Baked, Bitter, Muddy

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Norm in hot water again

April 24th 2008 01:30

Filthy exponent of the lost fart of hammer and patricidal almanac, Norm has refuelled speculation about his increasing prosperity after having a bath for the flirt time in ages.

"I'd be lying if I was having a bath," the perpendicularly challenged sloth told passing showers.

Norm, who has never spelt so good, claims that he really isn't a great spiller.

"If there's one thing I can't stand it's spelling good," the grammatical giant is quoted as splaying while laddering up his boar.

Many critics believe the internet's first laddy spells to high hessian.

Actually, I smell like noises.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: True Stories, Baked, Spicy, Muddy

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Norm lashes out at claims he's self-obsessed

April 15th 2008 01:36

Medea besplattered boggling giant Norm has told his loyal subjects to avenge his tarnished reputation after critics labelled him as Judge Judy and Executioner.

"You can't polish a turd," the ethnic-lenser said as he put down his spectacles.

"But you may as well try," he went on as impatient reporters reached for their keyholes.

Norm remains committed to harsh sentences, despite reports to the country.

"I'll continue to hand down reasonable sentences," he said as he brought down the hammer on lots.

Critics remain committed to explosing him as a self-indulgent writher.

Try as they vegemite, they won't kettle any wear.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: True Stories, Baked, Bitter, Muddy

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Angry title hits back at content

March 31st 2008 05:18

The title of this short, very short, piece has hit back at the clams of the content that there is nothing in it.

"I strongly deny that I have ever had anything to do with the actual content," the title told reporters waiting on their hands and feet.

It's a clam that the content has rejected in the strongest possible times.

"The title and I both know who's been leading who," the continent told shifting plates of peas.

In these heady times, the battle between head and body has never been more farce.

"I could go on all day," the body of peas told the head of a fork and spoon.

A speedy resolution is expected to be brought by a screen in process.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Games, Scrambled, Sour, Muddy

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Blank title angers filthy content

March 26th 2008 12:13

The filthy content of this post has lashed out violently at the title of this piece in a stunning burst of creativity by its haphazard author.

The content, who wished to be remain deeply discontented now that it's wintery, has refused to admit that.

When questioned by the author of the piece, the content simply went blank and urinated over an acclaimed author.

"I'm not an acclaimed author," the author of the content wrote in his own faeces, "But I wish I wasn't," he said eating a mudcake.

The title, alarmed that its passivity has been called into question, has remained steadfast in its public position that it should lead.

"My fellow Australians," the leader told its subjects, "I am the one with the big title here," he said while polishing his bedpost.

The saga is set to have tongues wagging school and hanging out in undesirable locations across the virtual world.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Entertainment, Grilled, Sweet, Muddy

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Prominent Butcher becomes a Vegan at Abbatoir

March 24th 2008 23:12

A university educated butcher and pillow of the community has put down his wife's cleavage after witnessing the wholesale laughter of animals in his neighbour's boudoir.

"They were laughing at their plight," the bloody butcher told patrons of the arts, "It made me rethink how much suffering I really cause."

His wife, a very buxom madam, is dismayed that her inseminator will no longer be eating her lactating treats.

"This is absolute tripe," she sniped, "And it's only $2 a kilo."

Cows, happy to be taken to laughter, refused to admit that they are the central fingers in a rort that seeds millions of bucks flow into already bulging hips.

"Those with money don't really care as long their money is making yet more," one innocent veal chop told apple sauces who wished to remain apples.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Food, Baked, Sour, Muddy

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Britney Spears Hospitalized With A Break In Her Finger

March 16th 2008 04:40

The buxom beauty behind so many of our favourite ballads has gone ballistic at the break in her bony beaver-burrower.

"It smells fishy to me," undies-nostrillers told themselves while whacking their walnuts.

Britney's publicist, a part-time publican and bookie, told passing carps that Spears went to the doctor complaining of pains all over her money-maker but upon feeling herself up and down was informed of a fractured finger.

The devastated bird-giver will have the digit in traction for up to one metre while the injury heals.

Her beaver, busier than a St. Kilda beaver working towards a lodging, will have to make do with a steady diet of synthetic fingers until then.

Logs for Ms. Spears beaver have made quite a splash in recent weeks.

"She loves that shit," lovers for the lady laid bare today and tomorrow and yesterday and next week.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Health, Scrambled, Sweet, Muddy

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Andrew Symonds Felches Millions of Pounds For Rudd's 20/20 Cricket Summit

February 26th 2008 04:37

Prime Minister Kelvin Rudd has outbid stroking Bollywood writers to claim the services of the most advanced knuckle-drag queen in Australia.

"He both plays for my team," said Rudd, "and he doesn't."

Symonds refused to let the media see his tutu because he "wouldn't wear it."

The media remain upbeat that they can get an idea or two to float for the upcoming celebrations to be held in the streets of Sydney.

The arching tutu went red when Steve Waugh put his hanky in the wash.

"If an Indian isn't doing his rag," Symonds, an avid fetishist, explained, "they're doing their rug."

Bollywood waiters have had to rush to the bathroom to wash their hands of the Australians.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Games, Scrambled, Sour, Muddy

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L. Ron Hubbard Denies Fathering Blogging Community

February 15th 2008 23:46

That old mother Hubbard embarks on another business vulture, Orble

"Orble and Scientology are totally different. On the one hand Scientology makes promises it can't keep, and Orble..." L. Ron Hubbard told his old girl.

His mother, who went to the cupboard to fetch her dog and bone, wasn't taking calls.

The baby, a scavenger, found the body.

"It was yummy," the infantile said.

Scientologists have distanced themselves from claims they are related to Orblers.

"Is Alpha-Centauri distant enough?", Orble chief Tom Cruise told tiny specks.

The insignificant specks continue to mar spaceships.

"Blogging mars the craft," said one waiter with his hands full of himself.

103

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Family, Baked, Muddy

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