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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 …

Around the traps with your mate, Joe Chip

Feeding rainbow lorikeets

Your mate extends the international socialist hand of friendship to multi-coloured comrades escaping the rain

As your mate says, don’t feed wild birds.

Most inspiring comment:  “Never in the field of human endeavour has so much been misguided by such sumptuous evocations of impossibly marxy laddies – it really is that good.”  Thank you!

Most blush inducing comment:  “I cast my eye around the mymatejoechip empire, and it occurs to me that I may, just may, be very slightly in love with him. it. you. choose a pronoun, I’m not picky.”


Like all Australians, your mate aspires to come second if not third in everything in life, and therefore he won’t give quite the attention to this post, in case it causes it to come first.  Close enough was good enough for the early settlers, and who am I to argue with people whose arms were ten times the size of my thighs?

Your mate has been very busy in charitable activities, as pictured above, feeding the starving masses, and was repaid by being pooped on, and expected no more.  On the bird front, we have had another owl visitor, a southern boobook, easily identified by its call, but no picture as it was only barely glimpsed at 5am the other day.  In another charitable activity, he was forced to watch Carnage and has vowed to seek revenge on Jody Foster’s character, or at least Jody Foster, who was as annoying as someone who narrates their blog in the third person.

Over at “You are what you eat“, things have been quiet.  I had a draft blog about taste testing bullets in preparation, but as we all know there was another massacre, and your mate left it at a few lines which no one will read.  I am a very imperfect person living in an imperfect country.  We have many failings, and this is what causes me not to just make smart arse comments about other countries, whether they be Syria or New Zeelund*.  However, you know how people laugh at North Korea and the devotion to whichever Great Leader is in power at any given time?  You know how we cannot understand how people can be like that?  For the very very little that my opinion is worth, that’s the reaction I have to the American gun fetish that simply accepts that every now and then a couple of dozen people are massacred, on top of the daily slaughter.  (Feel free to point out the failings of Austria, I will no doubt agree with your analysis.)

The revolution has not yet come to completion, due to the failure of my comrade Edgar Edgarberger to buy the lottery tickets that will ultimately fund the uprising.  I have given some tips on books to read to pass the time until the socialist utopia is established (I understand from reading other posts that “Obama-care” has rendered the US a communist state, so that is a positive move).  I have no editing power over at that site, and neglected to include Adam Roberts in my list of contemporary writers who keep referencing revolutionary themes.  “Yellow Blue Tibia” is a demented novel in a post Chernobyl setting which somehow posits a connection between Soviet science fiction and an alien invasion which both has and has not occurred.  “New Model Army” has private armies being established through social media, composed almost of weekend soldiers who regularly defeat the standing armies of nation states and then melt back to their homes and day jobs.  The recent “By Light Alone” has a world where hunger has been removed by genetically engineering the body so that we photosynthesise through our hair.  Yes, you guessed it, it made everything worse, and the masses are on the rise, at least if its a sunny day.  (Please comment on the site and ask Edgar where the hell he is.  I am not clever enough to know whether it is ironic that he is unable to blog because of work commitments.)

Your mate is nothing if not a bad artist.  At Poetry and Paranoia, he has blogged “Loving the Alien” in memory of Ray Bradbury;  commented on “Jehovah’s Witnesses” (and I must insert an errata here – I thought I had to apologise to the JWs for accusations of laziness because they don’t bother me anymore, as I discovered a Watch Tower on my desk – I later found that someone else thought it would be amusing to deliver it for them, so I withdraw my apologies they are lazy, and Jehovah will not be happy with them (nor with me, no doubt)); posted the lyrics of the soon to be number one hit, “Albino Girl“; and drew tears with “The Polygamist’s Lament“, noting that three is the loneliest number, its one too many to rhumba.

And if you missed my post below, and are interested in noir, crime, thrillers, that sort of thing, you may be interested in purchasing “SAD JINGO” by fellow blogger Ron Dionne, one of our fellow bloggers, because it is good and it is cheap.

Thank you for any attention you paid to my rant.  As a reward, here is a picture of a grey butcherbird.  It is a caroling bird, and I am awoken by its beautiful song most mornings.  It gets its name from its predatory behaviour and its habit of storing the carcasses of small birds in the forks of branches, either for later consumption or as some sort of hobby.  It would not deign to eat from my hand, but they will zoom through the air and pluck from gravity’s grasp any bread or meat tidbits I throw them.  Nice.

Grey Butcher Bird

I’ll start with the bread …

* I liked the Kiwi commentator who announced that the Australian Olympic team had changed its colours to green and silver (previously green and gold).  And Australians who have been annoyed by the Commo Bank ads during the Games broadcasts will like the internet comment “so the ‘T’ was right after all!” – I’d attribute if I knew where it came from, but I love it!

This title is kinda vanilla

The totally unscientific Joe Chip awards for this whatever go to –

Best search engine search queries:  “religion in embassytown” ; “hindu cryptozoology” (is that a band name yet?)

Most popular wordpress tag: mormon

Most popular subject: bill gates

Best spam: “I’m going to be careful for Brussels.” “you’ll be able to also give your baby some antibacterial baby socks to ensure that your baby is always clean” (yay it need wear nothing else, ever)

Best insult: “your writing isn’t nearly as “creative” as you think it is” (don’t joke with the militant)

Best response to a comment: “I am embarrassed how happy that makes me!” (that’s nice)


I dunno why all the spam says my titles are boring lately.  One title that is not boring is “Smile or Die” (called something more boring in the US), a book by Barbara Ehrenreich on the horrors of positive thinking and positive psychology and their negative impact in and on the US.  The very day after I finished it, at my workplace we had a psychologist present on positive psychology, and the lies we must tell ourselves to be happy.  Thanks very much universe, I visualised a scary psychologist and you sent one at me!  “The Secret” is true (it must be, its written by an Australian).   What next, is a dalek going to come to my office?  if only that had happened at the Olympics opening ceremony, Davros and crew exterminating all the Mary Poppinses … sorry they are not positive thoughts.


Happy hogmanay!

Gentle readers in the northern hemisphere, you may not be aware of the phenomenon of Christmas in July, where we in upside down land stuff ourselves with traditional winter goodies in an appropriate season.  (We then do it again 6 months later at Christmas, and lie around moaning a lot, but at least it isn’t cold.)

Your mate has decided that the beginning of a new financial year is a great time to start again.  Here are some suitable new year meditations from bits and pieces I’ve looked at over the last decade.  Marcus Aurelius, eat your dusty decomposed stoic heart out:


Meditations for the new year:

“Until a man is twenty-five, he still thinks, every so often, that under the right circumstances he could be the baddest motherfucker in the world.

If I moved to a martial arts monastery in China and studied real hard for ten years.  If my family was wiped out by Colombian drug dealers and I

swore myself to revenge.  If I got a fatal disease, had one year to live, devoted it to wiping out street crime.  If I just dropped out and devoted my

life to being bad.”

-Snow Crash, Neal Stephenson



“I’m Kick-Ass”

– Kick Ass


“Dear Mr Chip, Thank you for your enquiry.  On this occasion your application has been unsuccessful.  The committee thanks you for your interest.”

– Various


“One man can change the world.”

– Edgar Edgarberger (and Lee Harvey Oswald)


“Change the world … with SONG!”

– 8 year old girls

Most excellent echidna, most spiny anteater

Don't get too close

Don't get too close ...

Another not so good photograph, but I record my encounter this evening with a nocturnal ambler 5 minutes walk from my home.   (My photographs are not as good as Mike’s, but I still wanted to brag about this meeting.)  It was an overcast afternoon, a light drizzle here.  I heard some movement in the bush and froze, hoping something interesting was about (and always cautious its not something that finds me, or more likely my wallet, interesting).  I thought there was a possibility it was a goanna.  I stayed still long enough and this fellow came along.  I was very happy to see this short beaked echidna, out and about a little early.  They are an ancient life form – the echidna and the platypus are the only extant monotremes, ie egg laying mammals, so they go back to early days of mammal evolution.

Thank you to those who comment in various places on my pieces.  A yell out this week to Thirsty Murphy, who put me onto Die Antwoord, and who has had me googling local kung fu schools to find a replacement for karate which has taken too much out of my knees and ankles.  In a similar vein, I am looking forward to the upcoming publication of “How Not to Get Hit” by Nathaniel Cooke in three months.

So: what has been happening around the Joe Chip Empire?  Here we go:

While there are some Trevor pieces in preparation, the fermentation is not complete.  A couple of alleged poems have been reblogged here recently, but you may wish to check them out in their natural environment over here.  (Of course if you prefer real poetry by a real poet, you would look here.) As well as a poem about the tragedy that is the story of Casper the tamed, hobbled, crushed so-called “friendly” ghost, the Marxian consequences of this disturbing story are considered here.  A warning to men who wish to stray because their wives do not understand them is here (speak more clearly, and perhaps brush your teeth occasionally).  Most importantly, fellow scientists, I have been wondering why we do not eat rocks, and acknowledging that I cannot eat eyes.

I’ve been reading a lot lately, but nothing has inspired me to actually say anything, so I won’t.  I’ve picked up a copy of “Basic Black”, tales of fear by Terry Dowling, and on the strength of a story I blogged about a little while back, I am very much looking forward to reading it.  I am at 75 000 words on the second draft of my own novel.  I say that out loud because it may make me have to do more work on it.

And as a reward for putting up with some not so good photographs, here are some pictures of a regular visitor to my home.  I feed them sometimes though I know I shouldn’t.  I have loved cockatoos since I was a young child, but it is not good to encourage them, they are very destructive.

very clever beggar

White cockatoo

very clever beggar

nice and fluffy

The Power

Powerful Owl

Powerful Owl

This is not a great photograph, in fact it is not even a good photograph.  The light, the bush, my camera and my skill levels were all against me.  However I have not come across owls in the wild very often, and wanted to share my encounter with a Powerful Owl.  It is the largest owl in Australia, and in my state is listed as “vulnerable”.  This photograph was taken in Sydney Botanical Garden.  They mate at this time of year and can be heard calling particularly in March and April.  I have been fortunate to hear at least one over the last few weeks at home, but not spotted it yet.  I will try to keep to half decent photographs in future, but this one was more about the excitement of finally seeing one of these beautiful animals in the wild.  Check out those talons.

Joe Chip is at home amongst the dead this week.  I appreciate the interest of those who subscribe to and visit this site.  If I could ever encourage you to click on any of the links to have a look at my other work, could I encourage you to have a look at “Not Trevor” this week please?  It is not an easy site to publicise, and it is strangely personal.  Many thanks to those who have a look.

Attempts at humour and poetry appear here and here.

If anyone comes across Edgar Edgarberger, please tell him to get in touch.