Three things to do on a Saturday

1. Invite Mercedes Corby round for a shindig. She'll be in a party mood, having won her defamation suit against Channel 7, and you can probably count on her bringing some cucumber sandwiches, perhaps a pack of Camels.

If she brings some lawn clippings in a boogie-board-bag, they will likely be for personal use only, as Merc is not a dealer. So you'll have to try to scab a toke of her penis pipe, or content yourself with the camel.


2. She might also bring a party hat from her line of couture headwear (the Corbette designs kiddy clothes for a living - best keep a close eye on any models she might employ, Hetty Johnston).


3. Hope some newscaster with a neck injury interviews one of your scabbier friends in an attempt to stretch three nights of chequebook journalism from the one sketchy if amusing anecdote.

Then sue for a lifetime supply of party hats, penis pipes, and dignity.

In the culottes, news...

Ah the French. With their passions for short leaders, shortcrust pastry and, so it would seem, short memories. A new book is raising ire over the raised spires during the Nazi Occupation of France.

Patrick Buisson's 1940-1945 Années Erotiques claims that the incoming bratwurst went down rather well among war-widowed mademoiselles.

Buisson points to a telltale spike in the birthrate in 1942, not to mention an overburdened sewer reeling from spent condoms and a torrent of oui!

He also points to a cold winter and low supplies of coal, which obliged a bold new means of central heating.

Crank it up a notch

A ruckus has been dithering all week over photographer Bill Henson's nuddy pics. One "Hetty Johnston" complained that juvenile nudes had no place in the public eye, and wouldn't society be better off if we were born fully clothed and this kind of filth didn't exist in the first place?

"He has a tendency to depict children naked and that is porn," raved the Bravehearts spoutswoman.

Hetty, herself (now) a victim of naked depictions - but aren't we all victims of this obscenity? - wants art to be classified, villified, and finally ossified. "Enough's enough."

While the rancour has limited itself, thus far, to Henson's photographs, it's almost certain to spill over onto other depictions of nippers au naturel, such as Raphaelite cherubs and a recent, shocking series of Huggies commercials.

Indeed, it's hard to see why the smut-rakers should stop there, with realism to be followed by swiftly by Miró (ladyparts everywhere), Mondrian (triangles, for the love of god), and that guy who hangs himself from his own piercings in a piece entitled "Rape of a minor with a digital eye" [meathooks & flesh, 2007].

Presumably, Ms Johnston would like society to kindly return to a time when kids were kids, paintings were about blurry gardens, and kids named "Hetty" weren't teased by the very youngins they yearned to protect.

Quote of note - or, "Why I prefer to surround myself with a bolster of mediocrity"

"Every time one of my friends succeeds, something in me dies." --Gore Vidal

Nine things to shun on a Sunday?

1, 2 & 3. This.....................

There's something impossibly irritating about this album. Perhaps it's that - at a guess - Ms Carey has little to no acquaintance with the physics of mass-energy equivalence. Or that - again, guessing - all these waspy songs are about Mariah's lost loves, lost marbles, and lost right forearm, and in no way relate to special relativity.

Another contender: even if we granted that 'MC' were a witty take on the diva's initials, there's still half a fucking equation that remains to be explained.

I like to think that the 'E' stands for 'enterostomy', whence the album's genesis.

Crank of the week - "Lay back and think of Australia"

So it seems Tania Zaetta took one for the team. Pictured here (on left) with Danny Devito, the boxercise personality was accused this week of gettin jiggers with some diggers in Afghanistan.

The 37-year-old "actress" - and we use the term with opportune looseness - denied having travelled to the war-torn nation as the Defence Department's whore: "I was there to sell boxermercials and my new Bollywood flop".

"The only stuffed toys I muffled were native animals," she didn't say.

Zaetta did, however, lament the logistics of her Afghan visit. "Even if a person would want to (have sex) I don't know where you would go. You're never alone with any soliders, you are in full view of everybody else, even when you are walking to the toilets."

Describing the allegations as "ridiculous" and "vicious", Ms Zaetta would prefer the Australian public continue to esteem her as the wanton cocktease we hardly knew...

In the news... каспаров и хуй kasparov and the dildo

Chess legend-cum-politchik Gary Kasparov stiffened visibly when pro-Kremlin protesters guided a dildo-chopper across his press conference. The Grandmaster has a chequered history with the current regime, and in perhaps a perverse sign of putsches to come, Putin-huggers aimed a low blow at Kasparov's political hopes.

The man who famously lost to IBM's Deep Blue didn't fare much better against this deep throating opponent, until a precisely aimed dildo-chop brought it down. Benighted minders then attempted to capture the porn-friendly agitators, but the rookies fled the castle.

Check it out...

(Think your humble absurdist-cum-techdyslexic might've just discovered youtube?)

Word of the day - if M. C. Escher were a linguist, I

calumny / / n obloquy [L]

Word of the day - if M. C. Escher were a linguist, II

obloquy / / n calumny [L]

Two minutes' hate

Ever since posting a picture of Victoria "Mantis" Beckham a little too soon before bedtime, your work-bereft absurdist has been having nightmares of a pointy, hair-hat variety.

They bear an alarmingly similarity to this naturalist's video...

It doesn't help that OOWA's least-favourite mantis continues to make rather pointless news. Posh recently revealed that she finds it difficult to think in flats. Presumably, she prefers a pair of nice, green heels...

"I could go to the gym if I wore flats," the Spice lamented. "I'd love to go to the gym, but I just can't get my head around the footwear." If only Vic Bitter hadn't eaten her Spicemates in a fit of mantoid pique during their recent tour, Sporty might have found a rare utility.

While it wasn't clear whether Beckham was wearing heels at the time of her bonehead comment, the fact that she wears flip-flops around the house perhaps explains the stagnancy of her plans for world domination--as well as the dearth of any discernible, super-vegetal intelligence.

In still more Posh news, the mantis appears to be cultivating some manner of elephant trunk under her arm, the better to snuffle A-listers, mates, and her own, browned pit-musk.

Three people to shun on a Sunday

What would the Sun-Herald be without tittypics, a disgraced sportsman's road to or from rock bottom, and a voxpop?

What You Think of the New Weapons [Tasers]

Paul Wilson: "A guy recently died in Canada from being shot with a Taser, so as long as there are protocols."

...as in a last meal?

Chelsea Glover: "I think they're fine... It takes hours to recover from pepper spray, though it's true I'm unsure of the actual physical effects of Taser guns."

Another authority. Gotta love this sample.

Nadia Parama: "They could be very dangerous. I would prefer guns, as they are more helpful."

Truly a well-reasoned perspective. Can someone give this girl a column?

Check out Don't Tase Me Bro below for a taste of the buffet to come...

Three things to do on a Saturday

(guest editor Paul Osborn)

1. Take one's slag of a wife on a holiday to Pakistan. Attempt to pay for the hotel with one of her adulterous kidneys.

2. Root around the house for other needless items to sell on eBay: the slag's summer wardrobe, smart-alecky kids, one's dignity...

3. Move to the Ukraine and purchase a cheaper, newer slag on .

Crank of the week

In what's thought to be a world first, a British man has listed his wife on Ebay. When Paul Osborn discovered that his dearly beloved, Sharon, was having an affair, he flew into rage, threw her out of the house, and then attempted to auction her off.

Throwing caveat emptor to the wind, the exasperated cuckold chose - one hopes - one of the less flattering photos at his disposal, and advertised his item a "lying, cheating, adulterous slag of a wife".

Apparently, bidders were impressed by Osborn's candour, as well as his wife's digital manipulations, and offers as high as $1,000,000 were made for this pick of the litter.

Osborn later withdrew the item, lamenting the present, bear market for his prize sow.

More or less in the news...

Okay, so it's not real news, like "Earthquake smothers Tibet rally" and such and such, but apparently Victoria Beckham curtseyed to Julia Roberts.

Stop the press indeed.

Perhaps Posh is simply reverting to her insectoid origins: like a giant praying mantis sizing up a giant, throbbing forehead-vein, she crouches, tense, before throwing off her pillbox hair-hat and devouring Roberts' vapid expression--a spray of teeth and arterial face ... the clicking of mantid cheeks.

Prefix of the day

entero- / / pref a lovely and, in OOWA's humble opinion, underused prefix, 'entero-' means 'of the intestines', and belongs to such delightful words as 'enteron' (intestine), 'enteritis' (inflammation thereof) and 'enterostomy' (artificial anus), but not 'enter on horseback' (mounted access only, often difficult after an enterostomy). [G enteron]

...of the cranks, by the cranks, for the cranks...

In an unexpected but entirely welcome turn of events, Jenny "Electra" Deaves, of Crank of the Week fame, suggested to OOWA that our crank laureates should have the prerogative to nominating future contenders.

With this in mind, Ms Deaves took public exception to the dungeon antics of the Fritzl family. With all the prudery of a blackened pot, Deaves disdained the kinky Austrians, preferring to sugar her daddy in a caravan by their slumbering kids-grandkids. Her advice? "Get a room."

But in actual news, Deaves labelled the cellar dwellers' treatment "unbelievable" and "an outright crime" (in apparent, if vague distinction from her own, less criminal comminglings). "This is the reason incest laws are there and the reason they need to stay there." And here we were thinking they were designed to discourage incest everywhere, rather than just in Austrian basements.

It must be said that OOWA has a limited understanding of the law, whose particulars Jenny clarified thus: her incestuous relationship with John wasn't a crime because "she never saw [old man] John as her father". Which makes it okay for her to smurf her papa. "We were consenting adults … in our situation there was no grooming".

While Fritzl, we're sure, would be only too happy to pass on some old-world panache, Deaves appears reluctant, insisting she would even "turn away the sick man if he came for help". While it was unclear whether she'd been approached by Josef for assistance, or, indeed, what kind of help he'd be seeking (the art of soliciting kin?), or how he'd managed to escape from his Austrian prison in the first place, Fritzl is unlikely to see the inside of the Deaves' glass house. Er, from the inside.

The big questions - "If I were a pie, it would be..."

chicken - 9%
cherry - 17%
cheese - 46%
chorizo - 0%
chthonian - 28%

Name of the week, or "Blueberry muffin"

Dewberry / + wallowing Southern drawl / It has been suggested to OOWA that Dewberry, of Hell's Kitchen fame, would make a dashing sequel to the nominal delights of Frangag et al.

Sadly, it befalls me to explain that "Dewberry" is, in fact, our Southern Muppet's surname, his first being "Jeff".

I know, a real kick in the apron for us romantics entertaining possibilities of "Dewberry E. Lee" or "Dewberry Dubois". Or even "Dewberry Scone III". But he even has a family crest (albeit pilfered from the House of Duxbury):

Despite the crest's being markedly bereft of Jeff's candy-pickin' glamour, it does seem to verify his claim to a banal first name.

In the news... almost...

Imagine a boot stamping on a human face: that of the fat boy (right), of the hardened-eye-candy, or of the Billy-Idol-wannabe. This year's Big Brother audience would have a hard time choosing - if only it were watching.

Where once the reality banalities of dwarf-tossing (insanely dull link to "Rima" breaking her leg) and granny-bashing might have put bums on seats, Australia tastes have evolved to more politically-minded bulletins about, er, bums on seats, courtesy of Troy "Chair-bear" Buswell.

It now appears everyone's favourite "embattled" leader "groaned and writhed" between snuffles, and has an enviably brief downtime. Just ten minutes after the initial coition, "Buswell opened the door really wide, grabbed a chair and started sniffing it, lifted it above his head and breathing in, going 'aaww yeah'". Only slightly more perverse was the Opposition's decision to retain him as leader, which may yet fail if the federal opposition decides to poach the stalwart politico.

While Buswell's yet to deny the groaning (13 times), he remains only an asshat-moustache away from trenchcoated depravity.

Word of the day - "rubba dub dub thanks for the shrug"

condom / / [The word is named after inventor Dr Charles Condom, the "father of prophylaxis" (1630 - 1685), who either didn't anticipate the coming success of his pigskin sheaths, or had little respect for the good name of the Condom clan.]

Three things to shun on a Sunday - or Names of the week

Mr and Mrs JJ are having a baby! We haven't decided yet whether it will be human, canine, or trumpet-pitcher-plant-ine (to replace our old trumpet plant which is stunted and underwatered), but will keep you posted.

Anyhow, I've been trawling through some baby-names, and (with vaguely sincere apologies to anyone Scottish) would like to formally shun a few girl-pearlers.

1. Eithne (meaning 'kernel', which I find even more disturbing than the name itself)

2. Gormlaith (meaning 'a slap in the face with a bucket of rotting haggis')

3. anything ending in 'ag', including Seonag (Scottish for 'Sonya'), Teasag ('clothing distortion produced by gravity-stricken mammaries'), the ever lovely Frangag ('Francine') and the even more poetic Murdag

Anyone with a name that's begging to be shunned - in the civic-minded hope of sparing future newborns a debilitating yet preventable affliction - might drop it in a comment or email, or perhaps burn their birth-certificate in a church.

Three things to do on a Saturday

1. Um, I dunno. My Saturdays aren't even that interesting. I like to get in a decent Friday night and let the weekend rejuvenate me like an eager massage girl with a lot of time and flesh on her hands.

2. Take this out into the sun and read it.

3. Discuss. (in 25 words or less)

Crank of the week - "Air on the G String"

Reports emerged this week that Troy Buswell here sniffed the seat on which an unidentified woman had been sitting, in his Parliament House office in December 2005. Oh yes - Troy's the Opposition Leader in Western Australia (although we shouldn't be too glib with the present tense).

At first he tried (13 times) to deny the "unsubstantiated, anonymous rumour", but the poor woman's dirty laundry was aired in public - in front of other staff members, apparently to get a laugh - and now Buswell has caused a stink of his own. It seems he did inhale.

And why not? Are we so uptight that a man can't indulge his chocolate olfactory without being hounded, indeed, like a dog? And are we really prepared to draw a line in the sand of physical comedy?

Deputy leader Kim Hames paid tribute to Buswell's "robust sense of humour". Not to mention his robust sense for nether breaths. "To me," she continued, "Troy’s a rough diamond, and you don’t fix a rough diamond by smashing it to pieces."

Fix? These days that implies some manner of rehab, but- sadly - Betty Ford hadn't planned on this particular crack-addiction.

Besides, Troy is hoping to retain the leadership, on the assumption the scandal has bottomed out. "After watching John Howard kiss butt for 11 years, sniffing it should be a breath of political fresh air," he didn't say.

Word of the day 5

centaur / / n Have you ever wondered whether Word-of-the-Day Compilers read other Word-of-the-Day’s? It’s like asking whether weather-reporters go home and watch weather-reports, or whether mama-birds sticky-beak on other birds chewing food and vomiting it up again. (I suspect that Tim Bailey, of Channel Ten News fame, watches weather reports constantly: all Channel Ten, a showreel of dwarfish meteorology. I also suspect he chews and then vomits up his food while watching his reel in an effort to remain leathery and stunted.)

At any rate, I can tell you that this WOTD Compiler does read other WOTDs, even though my WOTDs are rather informal (read half-arsed), being neither 'daily' nor especially educational. And I was somewhat disappointed with this entry - 'centaur' - from a respectable electronic wordsmith. What kind of WOTD Subscriber doesn't know the meaning of 'centaur'? I know the meaning of 'centaur', and have known it nearly as long as that of 'chthonian'. It was defined, for our illumination, as "An unnatural creation made of disparate entities", which made me wonder whether the WOTD should in fact have been 'disparate', or perhaps 'entities' or 'made' - as in 'the compiler took a fabulously common word and made it into an unlikely Word-of-the-Day'. Unless it's a WOTD for schoolchildren, their weathery peer here, or for regurgitating birds, truly we have reached a low in lexicomania. [G]