The Daily Carlo: The facts blow 'alcohol-fuelled violence' claims away so let me buy boooze post 10pm you bastards!

Day Four of my Daily Carlo plot to blog every day and here is my fourth one! I am on fire!

I never thought I'd make it so far! To be honest, when I launched this new Carlo-Internet initiative on Tuesday, I was far from convinced I'd still be alive by Friday, what with my "lifestyle choices" that have been described variously as "less than optimal for living a long, healthy life" and "how the fuck is he still breathing?"

But I think what has got me this far is definitely my new fitness regime. Yes, thanks to the NSW state-wide 10pm closing time for all bottle shops, I am now in better shape than ever! What with my constant sprinting the bottlo at five to 10 every fucking night!

 Reddit.com/drunkspiration captures the struggle.

But asides from possibly being the only thing stopping my body from total collapse, what possible good does this 10pm shut down do?

I mean, I don't want to repeat myself here. I have already pretty decisively exposed these lock-out/shut down laws in NSW for what they truly are: a plot to give James Packer even MORE billions via his "magically excluded from the lock-out laws" Star Casino, and now I am just waiting for the Walkley Award it shall inevitably earn me.

But still... there may been some of you out there, who just REFUSE TO LISTEN and STILL think maybe this shit is about "alcohol-fuelled violence"... which is an argument I have NEVER understood.

Like, obviously I get there is violence involving people who are drunk in our society. Christ, I know there is drunken violence. The fucking Daily Telegraph WON'T FUCKING SHUT UP ABOUT IT.

But what the violence has to do with being drunk has never been clear to me.

Because, and really this is an area in which I feel I have some expertise, I have never noticed that getting drunk leads to any particular increase in violence. Or "king hits". Or "coward punches". Or whatever the fuck the Daily Tele, whose journalists are famous for their sobriety, are banging on about now.

Like, I have been very drunk many times in many pubs. God knows how many. Over many years. I mean, I like getting drunk. And I like pubs. 

And yet I have somehow manage to refrain from king hitting a single bastard (and fuck knows I've been in pubs with many people just begging for a decent king hit) . 

In fact, I had seen no real violence at all of any note in any pub until I went to Darwin in 2013 (for a comedy gig for a refugee rights group, so you know, thanks government for torturing innocent people, otherwise I'd have never gotten the chance to see the NT!) 

While there, I ended up in some dodgy bar on what they like to call a "main road" in Darwin, drinking with Robbo, who lives up there, and Conehead, who came up for a trip.

Suddenly, at the table right behind us, these off-duty soldiers launched, with no warning, into a brawl that sent beer and chairs flying and only my rapid action in securing our table's beers prevented them joining the sea of spilt booze spreading across the bar room as bouncers rushed over to try to separate two furiously wrestling soldiers, trying to kill each other over God knows what.

Whatever it was, it was clearly not an issue easily resolved, because an hour later, as we sat out on the tables on the footpath, we could see two sides on the road squaring off, headed by the protagonists of the brawl inside the pub.

They stared each other down and shouted abuse before finally fresh kicks and punches started flying in a kinda pathetic half fight in which each side displayed its incompetent failure to actually get a kick anywhere near the other while seemingly imagining they were just like Jean-Claude Fucking Van Damme... 

And you watch that and get a sense of just how horrific it must be to be a poor fucking peasant in Afghanistan or Iraq occupied by these numbskulls, whose only form superiority is their fucking heavy weaponry.

And you know, it was hard to draw the conclusion that the problem here was they had just drunk too much. I mean, they clearly had -- but so had I!

I had just performed a fucking stand up set in a city thousands of kilometres from Sydney to about 20 people as part of an ill-advised, failed and totally well-meant attempt by these activists to "reach out" to Darwin's redneck community to explain why "blow up the boats" -- a solution advocated to me beforehand by a local -- was perhaps a bit problematic, you know from a "let's not murder innocent people" sorta perspective.

So you had better fucking BELIEVE I was drinking. And yet somehow, I managed NOT to be involved in an all-in-brawl. Maybe I just have incredible self-restraint, or maybe, I dunno, the whole "drunkenness leads to violence" thing is utter bullshit.

Turns out there is some solid evidence behind the "it's utter bullshit" view.

Yes, ABC News ran an article headlined "Alcohol-fuelled' violence not caused by alcohol but by 'macho' culture, anthropologist Dr Anne Fox says", that states:

Amidst the introduction of one-punch laws and lock outs, the main concern has been the so-called alcohol-fuelled violence that goes with drunkenness. But one anthropologist believes it is not a result of the booze itself. 

Dr Anne Fox has specialised in the study of drinking cultures in countries around the world for the past 20 years and has been looking at Australia and New Zealand ... 

"Australians, like many other people worldwide, have a very pervasive belief that alcohol can transform your behaviour, that it's a transformative substance, that somehow there's this genie in the bottle that can make you behave a certain way," she told PM's Mark Colvin. 

"Alcohol - as all of the scientific literature shows, which we've reviewed very extensively in the report - cannot be considered a cause of violence. If it was, we'd see uniform levels of violence among all drinkers." 

Countries such as Iceland consume more alcohol than Australia but report less violence. 

"They have a stronger culture of preloading, they have 24-hour bar opening, they even have high rates of gun ownership, but in Iceland there is almost no recorded violence," she said. 

"It's simply not a violent society and they have no belief that alcohol causes violence, and therefore you really don't see any violence in Iceland."  Most of Southern Europe follows this pattern, according to Dr Fox .... 

According to Dr Fox, alcohol "cannot hijack someone's better nature and make them violent" and the term alcohol-fuelled violence is not accurate. She said the focus should be on the causes and triggers of violence itself ... 

"Your inhibitions are just social rules. Anthropologists for decades now have been finding through international cross-cultural studies that the way you behave when you're drunk is mostly the way that your culture teaches you to behave," she said. 

"You can see across the world that people behave very, very differently, despite being morphologically similar human beings and drinking the same amounts of alcohol." 

She said Australia has a macho culture. "We see that it's not so much the patterns of drinking or the levels or consumption that determine how people behave, but other features of culture that are magnified through drunkenness," she said.

YEAH!!! So fuck off with your "alcohol-fuelled violence" bullshit! And most of all... LET ME BUY SOME FUCKING TAKE-AWAY BOOZE AFTER 10PM!!! FOR GOD'S SAKE!!! 

Of course, no one could disagree that the violence used to justify these laws is terrible. There is clearly a problem in our society -- but it is cultural problem not a booze problem. the problem is the macho culture and its ever-present twin -- misogyny.

And not only is blaming alcohol for this missing the real culprit, it is way of avoiding even acknowledging the problem. And this isn't just alcohol, but drugs in general -- as the somewhat ridiculous scandal involving a whole lot of rugby league and rugby players apparently enjoying putting coke up their nostrils shows.

It really says something about the nature of our society and how fucked up our priorities are. Here we have charges and claims centred on the apparently shocking that a bunch of professional sports players enjoyed cocaine at such events as a players bucks night and a post-season booze cruise.

You might think that is something of a personal matter, at most unfortunately a legal matter due to draconian failed drug laws. But no. This threatens to tear apart an entire club, the Gold Coast Titans, and ruin the careers of more than a few players -- despite the fact that some of these players have already been involved in scandals involving far worse actions or allegations.

Rugby player and code-hopper Karmichael Hunt, at the centre of the coke scandal, faced sexual assault allegations in 2008. No dent in his career. Greg Bird, suspended by the Titans over cocaine charges, was found guilty of violently assaulting his girlfriend. His career continued.

You can rape and bash women seemingly without a worry in rugby league, but don't enjoy a recreational drug in your own spare time or you are done.

The irony is it is this kinda pathetic hypocrisy that makes drugs and alcohol so essential to fucking survive this goddamn world in the first place.

Alcohol and drugs can worsen existing problems, but I see no reason why those of us who manage to drink and not punch must be punished. We all relate to alcohol differently... the song below, by that glorious Texas country singer Hayes Carll, sums up my relationship with booze perfectly.... less violence, more pathetic failure at life.

I keep knockin over whiskeys
no ones laughin at my jokes
they got me spinnin round in circles
like a tin can in the spoke

When i left town this mornin
with a smile upon my face
ahh babe i swear i never knew
I'd end up in this place...

So. My fourth Daily Carlo. Don't thank me, just buy me a beer. Via the Pay Pal button on the right of the blog. I promise that after drinking the beer, I won't hit anyone, unless you specifically request it.

Eulogy from the man who beat me in a duel to the death

Debate over Carlo Sands has raged amongst philosophers, theologians, exorcists, Carlo Sands, demon hunters, and debt collectors.

As you all know, on Friday from 6pm (local time) was my wake -- occurring everywhere in the world simultaneously. Absolutely *everyone* was there -- whether they liked it or not. My own speech to the wake was prepared in advance. I draw my loyal followers attention to the speech published below, which was prepared for the event by Leslie -- the cad who defeated me in a duel to the death.

Of course, Leslie is a treacherous, murderous bastard. There are elements to this speech that any decent person could only consider libelous and the worst forms of slander. Myself, I notice that it lies by omission. Leslie completely fails to mention -- even in passing -- Carlo Sands' key role in the 100 years war. It only took me 116 years, by I finally drove those Plantagenet bastards from France. This is an important lesson in the consequences in stealing Carlo Sands' beer. I don't give a fuck if you are called "Edward The Third, King of All England", you don't touch my schooner.

But I publish the speech ultimately because it deals with a topic so close to my heart -- Carlo Sands.

Do not trust this man around your beer.

* * *

Eulogy for Carlo Sands

By The Man Who Defeated Him In A Duel To The Death

Carlo Sands was a complex ... thing. No less so in death, apparently, than in life.

Always quick with a maniacal grin and never slow (after last drinks) to lend a machete to those in need, many myths have grown up around Carlo – most collected together in the Book of Revelations and the tales of Ragnarok. And much of his life has served as the inspiration for much art - the convincing sense of ultimate horror embedded in Lovecraft's Cthulu mythos, Poe's raven, Wilde's Dorian Gray, Conan Doyle's Moriarty, Bosch's visions of Judgement Day and Hell, Brueghel's depictions of drunken peasant cavortings, Munch's "The Scream".

Munch's The Scream captures the sense of horror associated with the existence of Carlo Sands.

But I feel the true spirit of Carlo has only rarely been grasped throughout his time on this world. And even then, it is a knowledge that seems to die out very quickly in often mysterious circumstances.

Over the millennia -- almost from the very day he hatched -- the activities of Carlo have prompted conjecture on his nature. At first this was mostly along the lines of screaming and running away. When intelligent hominids came on the scene, it progressed to screaming and running away followed by the survivors' pre-linguistic equivalent of "what the fuck?!" and "WHY? WHYYYYY?!!".

As time passed and we developed better weapons and city walls, the discussion settled down and became more formal and reflective, and ever since debate has raged amongst philosophers, theologians, exorcists, Carlo Sands, demon hunters, and debt collectors.

A major question that occupied them all, second only to "WHYYYYY?!", concerned Carlo's insistence on continuing to be alive against all reason and sanity and persistent efforts to persuade him not to be. Was he immortal, or just remarkably well pickled?

On a day in 2009 that I'm sure found many of us torn between joy and happiness, that ancient question was finally answered. Well, technically, it was answered on October 21, 2008, when Carlo died, but it wasn't known to the world at large until Carlo found out.

To me it seemed like the end of an era. Like there may be no more running in blind panic from enraged emperors, kings, popes, conquering hordes, massed armies, and peasant mobs. No more looking over the shoulder for when the next attempted payback from God(s) would come. No more explaining that I was just holding the bag for someone. No more hangovers that made the big bang seem sedate and whimsical.

The only downside seemed to be that, although tragically dead, he was tragically continuing to insist on existing. Though this, to those who know him well, is not at all out of character and will no doubt provide a much needed boost to the philosophy sector of the economy.

But this is Carlo's wake, and tradition dictates that we must celebrate the departed. And as I -- against all my long-held expectations -- have managed to outlive Carlo and been the only person ever to have beaten him in a duel to the death, I find myself with my back safely against a wall and overwhelmed by magnanimity and benevolence.

Carlo's feats were many. Far too many to remember them all and sleep peacefully. So perhaps I shall limit myself to his earliest and possibly most fundamental contributions to humanity.

Ever since that moment he decided he couldn't be fucked looking for food and was just going to sit under that tree and wait for something to turn up, he has helped shape what we have become.

His inevitable discovery of the effects of fermented fruit. The - perhaps not unrelated - determination that he really, really needed others to share this new knowledge with (and to go get fruit for him). His decision (after some trial and error) that the "monkey people" were the most likely candidates.

Likewise his desire that we should be the beneficiaries of his discovery that if you spilt your grass seeds into your water and forgot about it for a while, you didn't necessarily have to chuck the whole lot out.

Many things that we take for granted today came from these simple acts of generosity. Brain shrinkage, dementia, cirrhosis, pancreatitis, delirium tremens, cardiomyopathy, gout, hangovers, some dodgy food and mating decisions – it is possible that without Carlo, we would never have discovered these, or at least had them in such abundance as we have enjoyed.

Carlo Sands may not have made our lives happier, but he sure made them hazier.

The hangover is just one of Carlo Sands' contributions to humanity that many take for granted.

Now, as his long time personal friend and advisor cum scapegoat and terrified innocent bystander who repeatedly somehow found myself mixed up in the fallout of his activities, I ask you all to charge your vessels and join me in saying:

Slainte, and Good Riddance!

Machete fights will be out back after closing. Thankyou.

Message to the world on the occasion of my wake (plus songs)

[Due to the technical issues, I am unable to send to all my countless fans an audio recording of me reading this out. Below is a transcript of my speech for my wake, happening every in the world on Friday, September 2 at 6.30pm (local time).

It is a transcript of what I attempted to record, including an introduction that i have transcribed verbatim.

Also, I have created a playlist on You Tube for the event, which can be accessed at Carlo Sands' wake playlist. YouTube I have placed the videos below. Now, everyone in the entire world, who is attending this wake whether they like it or not, has both a speech to be delivered and appropriate tunes with which to mark the life a truly wonderful human being -- Carlo Sands.]


Hi,

This is Carlo Sands.

Well, actually I feel obliged to point out this isn't my real voice. I've hired an actor to read this on my behalf. This is not what I sound like at all. Carlo Sands' real voice is actually a lot more like, ah, say Sean Connery. You know, sort of deeper and more authoritative.

Actually, probably more Alan Rickman-esque.

It is pretty deep and very sexy and I really wish I could *share* it with you, but unfortunately I have... ah issues of a legal variety and it is really best I stay out of the public eye, or indeed ear.

Which reminds me, if Interpol come asking any questions about Carlo Sands, for christ's sake SAY NOTHING.

So, as I am sure you all know, Friday September 2, 6.30pm (local time), my wake is occurring everywhere in the entire world. This is taking place because, you all also probably know, I am dead.

If you *didn't* know, then I am very sorry to have to break the news to you. It's true. Carlo Sands is dead. I realise you are in a lot pain right now, absorbing this information, but really, think how *I* fucking feel. I am the bastard who's dead, for christ's sake! Have some FUCKING RESPECT!

I have been dead for sometime but never had a wake. This is being rectified. In honour of this significant event, I have composed the following speech to be read out at the many locally organised wakes taking place all over the world, on all continents.

Feel free to just cut this intro bit out and get straight to the speech if you like. Oh, but make sure you meantion the voice thing -- that's very important.


A message to the world on the occasion of Carlo Sands' wake, by Carlo Sands


Dear friends, disciples and Leslie,

It is an enormous honour to address you all on this most important of occasions. It is deeply moving to see so many people turn out to celebrate and/or mourn my life and mourn and/or celebrate my untimely demise.

To see so many thousands of people here tonight is amazing, I just hope those of you packed onto the nearby roofs and at the outer reaches of this human sea can hear me well enough. I thank you all for coming.

To confront one's own mortality is never easy. Death is a confronting experience. I still remember that terrible day sometime back in 2009 when, fool that I am, I made the literally fatal mistake of taking that damned Facebook quiz, "When will I die" and received my answer: October 21, 2008.

To die is one thing. To discover one has been dead for a number of months is especially hard. Luckily, I was drunk at the time so it is all a bit of a blur.

All I can say is Facebook is a dangerous thing, to be treated with caution. It censors you for supporting Palestine, it sells your private information to corporate giants to sell you pointless shit in annoying ads and, if you are not careful, it'll kill you with a quiz answer without so much as a "warning: this quiz may kill you" message to give you the heads up.

An experience like death takes a long time to come to grips with. This is the reason for the long delay before truly accepting it is so and holding the inevitable wake.

This is not a sad day. I lived a full life and had the opportunity to drink with many of the great men and women throughout human history.

And if there is one thing I've learned through the milenia, it is never drink with Ghengis Khan. Seriously, don't do it. It just never ends well. By the time you sober up, half of fucking Asia has been pillaged.

You'll end up richer, no question, but the hangover is really not worth it.

Also, I am sorry about the Welsh. That was my fault. The only thing I can say in my defence is pear cider is one bastard of a drink. Kids, stay off the pear cider.

I'd like to mention a few people here. To Johnny Depp, I'll never forget the times we've had together. Just the two of us and a bottle of absinthe, and my god when you did that thing with... well, you know.

Lily Allen. I forgive you. Well, actually no I FUCKING DON'T! Seriously, how could you marry that builder? A FUCKING BUILDER! Fuck you!

To Tom Waits. Please, please, please return my calls. I am really sorry, I was drunk. Can you really not move on from that night? Just pick up the phone. Please.

To all my loyal fans, I thank you for your continued support through a difficult time. To my disciple of the year for 2010, Mary Ellen, you know exactly what to do to win Disciple of the Year for 2011. This time, make it Irish whiskey.

To Leslie, that cad who beat me in the duel to the death. Well, tonight is yours to gloat but tomorrow shall be mine! My revenge will be sweet and I shall be wearing a large grin at *your* wake, you fucking bastard.

To all who have donated to the important cause that is helping Carlo Sands buy alcohol, your support is appreciated. The struggle against sobriety is not over and the PayPal button can be found at my blog, www.carlosands.blogspot.com, near the top of the righthand column.

Now, all I ask is a minute of respect where no alcohol passes your lips. Just one minute of not drinking. It is surely not too much to ask in memory of so great a man as myself, Carlo Sands.

...Just a minute. One minute, come on. LOOK, ONE FUCKING MINUTE! Seriously ... PUT THOSE DRINKS DOWN! Fuck, stop drinking you bastards! ONE FUCKING MINUTE!!!! You useless bunch of fucking drunks.

Fine, drink, you useless pricks,. Just fucking drink. I don't care. May you fall over and break your arm. Yes, Ben, the OTHER ONE AS WELL you bastard. God damn you all.

thank you,
Carlo Sands
deceased.

Oh, one final thing: FUCK ISRAEL!!!