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OH WORDPRESS, I seek your help.  When I comment elsewhere, I find that I am treated as spam, sometimes on sites where I have commented dozens of times.  What for you do this to me?  When I seek support, you give me the finger:

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I think hard about my replies, i give many millions of humans valuable insights into their lives with my words of wisdom (most of which rhyme with ‘poo’), yet you treat me as garbage.  I THOUGHT WE WERE IN A RELATIONSHIP but you won’t even listen to me!

Do you think I will finally be ‘freshly pressed’ with this entry?

Cuckoo Land

Greetings to you all on this National Day of Not Working For Australia.  The sun is shining, and like everyone else in Australia who is not out shooting wild pigs (4 different pig hunting magazines the last time I was at the newsagents) or at the beach (its still too cold, fools) I’m sitting around in my pyjamas.  Four weeks annual paid holidays, four weeks annual paid sick leave, 37 1/2 hour working week, low inflation, low unemployment, 3 months long service leave after ten years, paid parental leave, thats the answer to give the next time anyone in Australia ever asks “what has the union ever done for me”.  Next hobby horse.

I’m living in cuckoo land, and its not even an election year.  I’ve just wasted an hour of my life looking for a picture I took years ago of two koels mating, to post here.  (I will tag my photographs, I will tag my photographs, I will tag…)

But before I start, I did find a photograph of two galahs adapted to a very urban environment …

its still wood, isn't it?


Last year a much more serious birdwatcher than me pointed out the trilling of a fan tailed cuckoo.  There has been one nearby over the last month or so, as the various cuckoo migratory paths have opened up again with warmer weather.  For me, spring has arrived when the koel starts calling at all hours of day and night, and the other evening, I smiled instantly despite the depredations of the working day, when I heard the lonesome lover calling for a friend (anyone?  anyone?), and recognised the return of an old friend, who will now look for a nest of a wattlebird or something similar sized, to do her work for her.

Some raucous shrieking yesterday alerted me to a channel billed cuckoo, a huge big beaked dinosaur of a bird.  I’ve heard quite a few, but seldom seen them.  They are named after their bill for a good reason.  Every time I’ve been aware of one, noisy miners have come and chased them away.  Here is another bad picture of mine, of one I managed to get a bit close to.

Channel billed cuckoo

Big loud bugger

Your mate has been getting all righteous and prophetic over at the 6th Proletarian Anarcho-Lottery Syndicate, just letting the rich know what is coming their way (please).  At Poetry and Paranoia, he has a prayer (which may seem flippant or sarcastic, but it is not, it is sincere and deliberate and not mocking); a reflection on the death of Reverend Mr Moonie; and a poem about cancer and winning the lottery.

The Bulldogs lost the ARL grand final.  Football does not bring out the best in me.  I try to stay away from sports, but some things are ingrained from childhood.  My greatest failing is my loyalty, it persists and endures beyond all reason, in all aspects of my life.  I would like to apologise to my television.  I said words that I normally shy from.  My television deserves better than that, and it should not have to put up with it.  I hope it can find it within its digital heart to forgive me.  Until next time.

Canterbury Bankstown Bulldogs

Oh Bulldogs, how many times have you broken my heart?

I really feel better now. Just wanted to get that off my chest.

6th Proletarian Anarcho-Lotto-Syndicate

An answer for the rich.  Start crying, weep for the miseries that are coming to you.  Your wealth is all rotting, your clothes are all eaten up by moths.  All your gold and your silver are corroding away, and the same corrosion will be your own sentence, and eat into your body, it was a burning fire that you stored up as your treasure for the last days.  Labourers mowed your fields , and you cheated them – listen to the wages that you kept back, calling out, realise that the cries of the reapers have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts.  On earth you have had a life of comfort and luxury, in the time of slaughter you went on eating to your heart’s content.  It was you who condemned the innocent and killed them, they offered you no resistance.

From the letter of…

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Yep, why bother … I’m buggered if I can be arsed today. If Mr Smug is doing it, we better find a new gig.

6th Proletarian Anarcho-Lotto-Syndicate

In a world of at least 300 000 people, it is difficult to have an original thought.  The CIA has developed a random thought generator, but its mostly a random juxtaposer: crystal grace; jealous necromancer; sturdy carrion; jugged hare.  Its useful for band name construction, and titling that difficult third album, and not much else.  Certainly this blog is not original, we’d steal anything from anyone, but that’s ok, after all, property is theft.  So why even say this?

I wonder at the point of columnists in the main stream press, particularly those who write fluff pieces.  Richard Glover in the Sydney Morning Herald is as good or bad as an example as any.  He is an amusing man, and his schtick is about his general uselessness as a man (eg inability to use power tools), and the general uselessness of men; Jocasta, whom he still quivers at the sight…

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What’s going on over there, with all those ugly people they got?

Poetry and Paranoia

Hey ugly fat old man

what do you think you are doing

just standing there staring at me like that

with your face covered in shaving cream?

What happened to that young guy

you people used to have

on the other side of the mirror?

Did he get bored hanging around?

Went looking for somewhere more interesting

to hang out?

You may as well stick around,

I suppose.

I hate to think who they might send

to replace you,

if you were to go.

You’ve got his nose, you know.

You two related?

How come you got so many ugly people

over there?


Pathetique.  Its less pathetic, when its in French.

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Hello Web Admin, I noticed that your On-Page SEO is is missing a few factors …

Indeed it is, especially the X Factor.  The Joe Chip Empire stands in the audition queue jostling with the teeny boppers, unable to get sufficient attention, at least sufficient to please the writer, who is an insatiable sod (or should that be sot?)  hey everyone, look at me, here’s a picture of a flower with a bird on top!

Eastern spinebill on bottlebrush


That worked really well.

Checking the google summaries, search terms that brought you kind people to “Poetry and Paranoia”  recently include:

  • do albinos originate from albania
  • bathysphere poem
  • Michael C Hall poem
  • poems about self obsession

That last one certainly nailed it, that is the main theme here!

So what is happening?  Not much to report from the Joe Chip clearance house.  The writer has been in the Betty Ford clinic, hanging out with the wives of former presidents (the one’s not solving any middle east crises at the moment), reminiscing about the old days with Elizabeth Taylor (not reminiscing with her of course, necromancy is banned in the grounds, but you’d never know it to look at … never mind), and seeking to overcome his “Gangnam Style” addiction (Psy says dress classy, dance cheesy, I manage to be cheesy at both).  There are three recent revolutionary pieces over at the 6th proletarian whatever (and yes there really is an Edgar, and yes, he is really lazy), including some gumph about rugby league football, trying to tempt Edgar into his classic Marxist sports rant, and a lazy piece of rubbish simply linking to a mainstream newspaper column asserting the world’s richest woman, Gina Rinehart, is a communist sleeper.

In the latest hard hitting poetry, I stick it to the man by asking whether some women have legs made of rubber.

*Sigh*  What is the point?

The following picture of Gina Rinehart is by Simon Lech, I failed to properly attribute it over there, and only Edgar can edit, so this is my correction:

All you have to lose is your chains of pearls …

Hopping off the bandwagon …

… here’s a report which includes a little bit on the Lyme protest on Friday.  I’ll hop off that bandwagon for a little while now.


7.30 report




Like the Rugby League grand final, the Revolution grows closer each day … all people will be one, all that is needed that we remove our skin and start mushing up together …

6th Proletarian Anarcho-Lotto-Syndicate

Edgar and I are brutally interested in the culture.  Edgar’s interest is in part because of professional reasons, he being a leading kultural apparatchik for several regimes.  My interest exists because my interests are irrevocably intertwined with those of the people.  As a man person of the people, it is imperative that I be fully aware at all times of everything that interests and moves the people.  Unfortunately, the people can be a darned nuisance sometimes, in that their interests are not exactly homogenous, which causes my brain to hurt.  Its hard enough following more than one football team at the same time, especially when they are playing each other, let alone more than one code of football.  Never mind, come the revolution, everyone’s interests will be one.  There shall be only one type of ball sport, and only one team.  That might sound silly, but all conflict having been…

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Australia’s First Lyme Disease Protest – 14th September 2012

For anyone who is in Sydney Australia on Friday, this is a Joe Chip sanctioned event (I’m sure that will thrill the organisers).


Australia’s First Lyme Disease Protest – 14th September 2012


The Australian Lyme Disease patient community, together with their friends and families are holding Australia’s first Lyme Disease protest for awareness and recognition of the disease in Australia.


The protest will be held outside NSW Health Ministry offices in North Sydney, NSW on September 14th, 2012 at 4pm. The protest is for:

•             Funding for Lyme Disease research in Australia

•             Adequate and accredited testing processes in Australia

•             Education for Australian medical professionals to recognise, test and treat both early and chronic stage Lyme Disease



Lyme Disease is a bacterial infection transmitted to humans by ticks and potentially other insects. Left untreated, Lyme Disease and Lyme Co-Infections (other bacteria and viruses also carried by ticks that are often also transmitted at the time of bite) can cause numerous health symptoms including severe neurological damage and severe pain, and can be fatal. Lyme Disease often mimics other illnesses such as MS, Motor Neurons Disease, Alzheimer’s Disease, Anxiety, Autism, Fibromyalgia, Parkinson ’s disease, Behavioural / Psychiatric Disorders, and Chronic Fatigue syndrome. Thousands of Australians may be infected with Lyme Disease, but are misdiagnosed with other illnesses due to lack of education within in the Australian medical community.


Numerous Australian children have also been diagnosed with Lyme Disease via pregnancy / birth infection. Overseas research has also indicated Lyme bacteria (borreliosis) has the potential to be transmitted via blood transfusion, organ donations and sexually. In the USA where Lyme was first discovered during the 1970s, Lyme Disease is now epidemic in numbers being the 5th most commonly reported Nationally Notifiable Disease. Lyme has also subsequently spread across the world with European and Asian countries recognising the disease and treating Lyme Disease patients.



The Australian government, both State and Federal, continue to deny that Australian ticks carry lyme disease despite thousands of Australians being bitten, presenting with known Lyme Disease symptoms, testing positive for the illness, and seeing drastic health improvements with treatment. This denial is conclusive of a single study conducted in the early 1990s which assumed that only one strain of borreliosis can cause Lyme disease. There are, in fact, numerous strains of borreliosis which the ticks were not tested for during this study. This included those European strains causing severe neurological symptoms; coincidentally these strains present similar symptoms to those seen in our Australian Lyme Disease patients. The investigation into the possibility of a local strain of borreliosis was also not investigated and tested for.

Australian patients suffering from this illness are being told “Lyme isn’t here” or “there is little evidence that it occurs in Australia”. NSW Health (who advises other Australian state health departments on testing and treatment guidelines) are denying Lyme Disease patients with accurate testing for Australian strains, and withholding proven treatment methods to relieve their symptoms and prevent their deaths.


There have been various previous Australian research studies conducted by qualified medical professionals and animal zoological experts proving Lyme Disease exists in Australia. This research has been available as early as in the 1950s when lyme borreliosis was discovered in Australian native animals. This study and later studies proving the existence of Lyme in Australia has been ignored by NSW Health. Australian patients are being left to suffer, or told they are mentally unwell. There have been known deaths due to Lyme Disease in Australia.


NSW Health have also been ignoring the hundreds of patients who have been contacting them via letters and phone-calls for several years alerting them of the illness and requesting their support.


The Lyme Disease community are holding this peaceful protest to request their acknowledgement of their illness in hope that they can achieve recognition of their illness, research funding, education of Australian medical professionals, and accurate testing and treatments within Australia.

“i am an albino girl poem”

Favourite internet search term of the week, which led some unfortunate browser to my haunting melodious lament, “Albino Girl”, who wasn’t even Albinanian.

Where do the years fly?  The Joe Chip Empire is crumbling.  The barbarians are at the gates, and Edgar’s wandered off – he was only supposed to be buying a packet of chips and a can of creaming soda, but I bet he’s in the record shop.  The blogs lie untended, slowly being covered by drifts of sand as the climate changes and the deserts spread (ahh, if only the desserts would spread – slowly encroaching lemon meringue pie would not be such a horror, though the fact I write of such visions may explain why my belly is not so slowly encroaching on my belt).

Australians love order.  They like to think of themselves as anarchic larrikins, but that is a complete load of bullshit.  You only have to look at the seasons.  In the northern hemisphere, they think it is still summer.  But how can it be, when here in Australia spring has been declared?  We do not let nature get in our way, hence the devastation of our environment.  Spring commences on 1 September here, we care naught for equinoxes and solstices and unofficial unlegislated astronomical stuff.  When I raise this with no doubt mightily bored compatriots at the change of each season (I can bore for Australia, it is one of my Olympic events, I won silver), they say things like “Hey my mate Joe Chip, you’re talking about natural, seasonal spring”.  WHAT OTHER KIND IS THERE?????  Idiots.

Sorry, please forgive me, I need calm in my life.  My only balm is the arts, and of course by the arts I mean poetry, and of course by poetry I mean doggerel.  Hence the only place there has been any Joe Chip action lately is in “Poetry and Paranoia.  Looking at the blog, I am a little worried about the writer.  I applaud his continuing television poetry and his murderous effort in “Dexter“.  TV poetry is the new art form for those who don’t wander lonely as a rain cloud in a spate of good weather.  However, I worry if he is slipping into premature middle age, with his comments in “Stuff” about how it is good that he is not ten years younger (for goodness sake, he’s only seven, what is he going on about?), because who knows what he might try with someone nameless that no doubt would lead to the same disaster it would have led to ten years ago; and then in the beautifully named “Ugly Fat Old Man” he writes tenderly about how he we deteriorates before his our eyes.  I knew there was something to worry about long ago, noticing how he writes in the third person about himself.

Now what is in all this for the reader?  Here is a picture I took in Penang of a wild dusky leaf monkey in the botanical gardens – sorry, no bird this time.

As you can see, I am eating leaves

Yes good on you you found a monkey after looking for hours, think you’re pretty good don’t you, wait until the macacques ambush you on the way out