Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Oh for christ's sake, this is too much. On Spain, climate change, Estonia and being ignored by Cannes.

I blame society. I am watching the fucking world and all its reality TV stars and wondering just what the fuck is going on.

First of all, what the hell is wrong with the bloody Spaniards?

Seriously, every since May 15, all these fucking Spaniards have been out on the streets demanding a "new system" and taking over all of these plazas in the centre of cities and towns like they are public property or some shit. We are talking 60 or more of these fucking plazas.

Youth leading the way of course, all going on and on about "corporate domination" of politics and society and the need for something they call "real democracy!"

They especially don't like the fucking banks. Oh, the government had to "bail-out the banks" and there was a fucking debt crisis and there is "austerity" against ordinary people.

Well of course there fucking is. The banks can't bail themselves out -- they are all fucking broke. The money has to come from somewhere.

I mean, what do these idiots think would happen if we had no banks? Where would we keep our cash? I mean, you only have to look at how rich some Spaniards are -- they don't have enough mattresses to stuff their millions of euros under. It is just not practical.

I really cannot see why this is an excuse for thousands of young people to go stand in public squares and wave their hands in the air like fools.

Crazy Spaniards wave their hands in the air in Barcelona's Plaza Catalonia.

A lot of commentators have pointed to the role of the huge level of youth unemployment in this debacle -- which is running at an official rate of more than 40%.

No doubt they are right. The lazy gits have nothing better to do with their time than complain about the capitalist system that has given them *so much*.

And now it has spread to Greece.

The banks just don't need this shit, they have a government to run.

We all know who we can blame for putting the idea in their heads to take over public squares: the goddamn fucking Egyptians.

I warned this whole "Arab Spring" thing would end in tears. You just don't walk around bringing down governments *carefully installed by the Land of the Free* just because they torture you and enforce policies that cause widespread poverty.

Where the hell would this end? I dare say the destruction of Israel.

Thousands of Spaniards take over Madrid's Puerta del Sol square, oblivious to the fact the banks are too busy with the business of governing to deal with their petty complaints.

As if that is not enough, we have fucking a bunch of pricks running around going on and on about the threat of human-caused climate change. Some sort of mobilisation is planned around this on June 5.

In this context, it has been left to none other than the Catholic Archbishop of Sydney George Pell to *once more* express scepticism about climate change and whether it is human caused.

It is especially impressive as this is not a man usually renowned for his scepticism.

This is a man who believes the world was created 6000 years ago and that Jesus's mum was a virgin.

He believes that Jesus could turn water into wine and cure leprosy -- and what is more, that Jesus didn't even *patent* his fucking cure and flog it off to a pharmaceutical corporation like any sensible person would, but continued to administer it FOR FREE!

I always found that the least believable part of the New Testament.

Pell believes the world was created in six days by some invisible bloke who lives in the sky and he sent his only son to go and tell everyone the GOOD NEWS that if you believe this shit you get to enter paradise when you die and spend your time with everyone else who thinks the best way to spend a Sunday morning is listening to some old git like Pell tell you fairytales as opposed to BEING FAST ASLEEP till the hangover wears off.

And that when they, quite understandably, killed Jesus for insisting on sprouting this shit, he rose from the dead three days later and ascended to this paradise -- but fear not he is still in all of our hearts if we only let him in.

No doubt this accounts for the high rates of heart disease in so many predominantly Christian nations.

Through Pell's church you can even *to this day* day drink Jesus's blood and eat his flesh via magically transformed wine and wafers. It does not sound healthy.

Pell believes all this and *still* has the good sense to question the so-called evidence provided by the *entire* climate science community who keep insisting, in countless studies, that the situation is worsening and drastic action is needed.

You've got to admire him for that.

Perhaps even *more* to the point on this crucial topic is US Republican Congressman John Shimkus, who is seeking to chair the powerful House Energy Committee.

His take is quite simple. A November 10. 2010 Daily Mail article informs us that Shimkus "insists we shouldn't concerned about the planet being destroyed because God promised Noah it wouldn't happen again after the great flood".

"Speaking before a House Energy Subcommittee on Energy and Environment hearing in March, 2009, Shimkus quoted Chapter 8, Verse 22 of the Book of Genesis.

"He said: 'As long as the earth endures, seed time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, will never cease.'"

So let us not be concerned by the melting of the polar icecaps because God PROMISED!

Republican Congressman John Shimkus, who is seeking to chair the powerful House Energy Committee, explains we don't have to worry because God promised Noah we'd be alright.

All I can say is this is just as well, as the organisers of a June 5 national "climate action" marches are backing a government plan to deal with what is supposed to be the most serious threat humanity has ever faced by promoting a policy that -- thank christ -- will actually leave corporate power alone and lead to an emissions trading scheme.

You know, along the lines of the one in Europe that has not only failed to reduce carbon emissions but actually provided the rich with a new opportunity to generate more wealth through wild speculation and widespread fraud.

And this is badly needed, what with the whole subprime gig going belly up in the states back in '07.

I would have thought all this was bad enough, but no. We had to have a weekend, the one just past, that was missing the only fucking reason to actually have a fucking weekend in the first place.

Yes, in Round 10 of Australian Football League, the prime competition of the Greatest Game on this Godforsaken Planet. Essendon Football Club *did not even play*.

They had some sort of so-called "bye" -- and this after the travesty the week before when, through some sort of malicious conspiracy, the Bombers were beaten by *fucking Richmond*.

And as if that is not enough, I am stuck in Sydney in a fucking state whose main game is some sort of stupid sport I can't even *begin* to understand.

As far as I can see, from my brief time trying to watch this "sport", it involves two lines of lumps of beef running into each other, falling down, then repeating the process for 90 minutes.

I can't figure out who these fuckers are they find to play the game, but, going by appearances, they all seem to be pub bouncers. And god knows I hate bouncers -- what with their moralistic stances on "dress codes" and "states of intoxication".

And this is what they offer up as way of entertainment is this goddamn town.

Pub bouncers confront each other on a field.

And last Wednesday, I was told, they had some sort of "big game" on. I couldn't really figure out what it was all about, but someone told me they were going for Queensland.

I am not sure who Qld were playing against, but if they were playing Estonia again no doubt they made the right decision. Fucking Estonians.

People often ask me what the fuck I have against Estonia? They say surely it is just a discreet little place in Eastern Europe with one of the lower populations of any EU nation, reasonably high standard of living and, what is more (they always add) the highest levels of internet freedom in the world! What is my problem?

Let me just say this: If you should be approached by an Estonian who challenges you to a game of Ice Cricket, turn around and run away as fast as your legs will take you.

Yes, Ice Cricket. It is a real thing and the fucking Estonians are responsible for it. Estonia's claim to fame is to be the self-proclaimed Home of Ice Cricket.

This is *exactly* the kind of fucked up shit the Estonians *would* pull. Only the Estonians could invent such a thing.

What it is, should you have never heard of this monstrosity, is, basically, a game that is just like normal cricket only *much much colder*.

I am told the Maroons won on Wednesday and should it have been against Estonia I can only say *thank fucking christ*.

The fucking Estonians have a lot to answer for.

And yet, the horror *does not even end there*.

You will not believe this. It truly takes the fucking cake. But I swear to God it's true.

Conversation III: This Time It's Personal -- the latest film by Carlo Sands -- was *completely ignored* by the May 11-22 Cannes International Film Festival.

Not even a fucking invite to attend, let alone a fucking Palme d'Or or *any prize at all*. Not even a Lifetime Achievement Award.

It is just like Conversation I and Conversation II all over again.

And then, to make matters *even worse*, a further indignity on top of so many others, there was an *incident* involving Ben, world renowned as a co-writer of the Conversation series. Or "script assistant" as I prefer to call him, as it makes him sound less important.

The details are murky, but let's just say it involved a sudden decision by Ben mid-last week to go hitchhiking up the NSW coast.

Somehow, this got out of control when he ended up in Queensland at a Blues festival at Hell on Earth, also known as the Gold Coast.

This is where he was on Saturday morning, stood on the side of the road desperately seeking to flee the Gold Coast, when I received a text informing me: "Qld police really don't like the hitchhiker".

So I was a little surprised when three hours later Ben walked into the room in Sydney.

It seems a man of the law caught him in the act of requesting a lift from strangers. They don't like that of sort of thing up there, so Ben was duly fined $40 and driven to the airport with the heavily implied suggestion that he get the fuck out of the state ASAP.

Ben says he called in a few favours and promptly flew back to Sydney.

Now, no doubt you are thinking exactly what I thought when I heard this tale: how is it possible for some random cop on the beat to treat one so closely associated the Conversation films in such an atrocious way?

How did it come to be that such a person could be RUN OUT OF A FUCKING STATE?

I asked Ben whether he told the cop who he was. He said he was legally obliged to.

And he was *still* run out of Queensland! They truly are backwards, uncultured hicks up there.

It really is enough to drive a man to drink. Luckily, that is where I was *just* heading anyway.

(Speaking of which, check out the PayPal "Donate" button just on the right... getting drunk enough to write this shit is not cheap, but it is *so* important.)

You can view for yourself the artist achievement of Conversation III and the scale of the outrage perpetrated by Cannes and the Queensland cops.

Like A conversation: A short film on DrinkWise ads and ovaries and A Second Conversation: a short film on refugees and gaffer tape, Conversation III has been totally ignored by the film industry.

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Good news and bad news

There is good news and there is bad news.

The bad news is the planet is looking pretty fucked if we don't take urgent action need to combat the climate crisis.

The good news is total eco-destruction will take Nickelback down with the rest of us.

Although knowing the planet's luck, members of Nickelback will prove tougher to kill than cochroaches and be the only living things to survive - and lead singer Chad Kroeger will wander the barren lands for eternity moaning about how the eco-holocaust is "how you remind me of what I really am" backed by the dullest, most irritating band ever to be manufactured by the Masters of Evil that call themselves a music industry.

In good news, my home town of Sydney did something worthwhile for the first time since thousands protested some reactionary, old git in a dress who calls himself the Pope and egged Devil Child Justin Bieber during a recent concert.

In bad news, they largely missed. In even worse news, they didn't throw grenades or even a targetted cruise missile.

In good news for the world of culture, Carlo Sands has moved into film-making and directed and co-wrote a groundbreaking film exploring some of life's most important issues.

In bad news, proving the empty, hollow and utterly corrupted nature of film business, I have yet to be awarded a fucking Oscar for this work of genius.

Seriously, this film - with a co-writing with Ben from "that night at the Courthouse" - has not yet recieved a single fucking award of any kind despite being released to the entire world on YouTube last fucking Saturday!

Some have said, "Hey Carlo, show some patience. The next Academy Awards are not till next year, give it some time."

But if the esteemed Academy had any fucking self-respect they would recall that ridiculous Oscar for Best Picture awarded to that pointless flick about some stupid fucking inbred royal who couldn't even string a fucking sentence together but was king coz of his birth and the fact his FUCKING NAZI older brother walked away from the gig to go live in the Caribbean and support Hitler, and they would immediately hand that fucking prize to Carlo Sands.

It would only be just and right. But no.

This is just like the whole Nobel Prize for Literature debacle all over again, with those fucking Swedes refusing to give me the award, despite my remarkable contribution to the field of poetry.

So I figured I had no choice but to create a sequel.

Even worse, there is more bad news. This second work of genius has also failed to secure any of the notable film industry awards. Not an Oscar, a Golden Globe, a Palme d'Or or even so much as a mention by the Australian Film Critics Association.

And don't get me started on the total silence being mantained on either of my works by The Panafrican Film and Television Festival of Ouagadougo and the Kansas City Film Critics Circle.

Not just that, but like so many sequels it has struggled to match the impact of the original - having at time of writing been viewed only 56 times, compared to the 105 views garnered by the original.

It was so outrageous I had no choice by to create my own award. And so, I am please to annouce, here on this blog, that the inaugural winner of the Annual Carlo Sands Award for Finest Use of the Phrase Fuckity in a Short Animation goes to ... Carlo Sands!!! For A Second Conversation: A Short Film on Refugees and Gaffer Tape.

In other news May 5 marks the 30th anniversay of the death of Bobby Sands, Honourable Member of the British Parliament for Fermanagh and South Tyrone.

Sands died in the British-run concentration camp called Long Kesh after 66 days on hunger strike, followed by nine other men, because the Thatcher government refused as a matter of principle to "cave into the demands of terrorists" and let the prisoners wear their own clothes or organise their own fitness regiment.

And while the bad news was the IRA missed Thatcher that time in Brighton, the good news is that walking bag of rancid shit can't have long to go.

The world being what it is, you take what you can get.

""The kind people, have a wonderful dream: Margaret on the guillotine.... when will you DIE?! When will you die? when will you die? when will you die? when will you die? ... Please die" The best bit is the way the song ends abruptly to sound of a falling guillotine. The worst bit is it was written in 1988 and we are still waiting...