Friday Ramble 23/06/2006 (Happy Birthday Mommy)

The Ramble is back and kickin more ass than Eric Roberts.

Photoshop is an incredible piece of software. Check out how handsome I can make myself look:



Dan has been telling me for ages about a program on MTV called Wonder Showzen and I had the privilege of seeing it last night. It's put together in the vein of early Sesame Street and that kind of jol. But man is it twisted. 3 scenes that made me laugh:

Brian: "Thanks brain!"
Brain (in a voice like Rambo (actually more like the Green Beret in Commandos for those who have played it)): "No prob. Wa pwa pa."
That's so cool I'm thinking about making it my catch phrase.

[cue twilight zone stylings with twins floating over a field]
Twins: And now for piece of mind [freaky echo]…piece of mind…piece of mind…
[cut to a man sawing a piece of brain off with a breadknife]
All I can say is I'm pretty glad I wasn't stoned like a Muslim harlot at the time. I would have wanted sweet meats.

A sweet looking little kid of about 8 goes to ground zero (to the uninitiated that is the memorial at the rubble of the twin towers) and runs around with a microphone asking people to tell jokes.

Fat Lady: Knock, knock
Kid: Who's there?
Fat Lady: Could
Kid: Could who?
Fat Lady: Could who pour us a cup of tea?...
Kid: Could who tell me how that is funny?
Fat Lady: Well 'could who' sounds a bit like 'could you'…
Kid: Could who explain to us how you didn't get that I just totally burned you?

The fat lady didn't sing.

You know what I like? Long moonlit walks on the beach and candlelit dinners and Wordsworth and giving sensual massages (knobviously), but also when you are listening to a song you've listened to lots of times without really listening to the lyrics and then suddenly one of them jumps out at you and you quite like it. It happened to me a couple of times this last week:

System of a Down: "Everyone needs a motherfucker". Think about it. Well…technically not anymore, but it appealed to me how they made it impossible for your Dad not to be a motherfucker. Cunning. Stunt.

Audioslave: "You needed light so I set myself on fire". That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard. Except I think he's lying. Burn victims don't make good rock stars. Too much damage to the soft palate.

How much do I hate the Aussies? Let me count the ways. I am seriously upset that they have enough BMT to go through to the knockout stages of the World Cup. Goat-felating backwater hicks.

For those who haven't seen it, the movie 'Waiting…' Just do it. You won't be disappointed. They play a game, the point of which is to get another guy to look inadvertently at your balls, so you can call him a fag and kick him. Metaphor for life? Hmmm.

Speaking of which, I had the good fortune to spend the long weekend on a game farm with a few of the old school Rhodes kids. It was there that I decided Rhodes never leaves your blood. After a day drinking boxwine I found myself thinking "I haven't whipped out the old racing pigeon in ages" and being genuinely upset. That did result in easily the most vicious hangover I have had in about 2 years. You know when it feels like there is someone inside your head squeezing your brain and his twin jumping up and down on your bile duct. That morning, being on a dirt road in an ancient 4x4 with Gumpers' farts smelling like a freshly opened kidney, I wished for nothing but death to either of us. I almost couldn't drink during the rugby. Almost.

Have a fanticious weekend.

Love, kisses, my balls, your chin.
Jamo.
No prob. Wa pwa pa.

Monday Melancholy 19/06/2006

Welcome to the rebirth of the Ramble. Or as Miles Davis styled it: the rebirth of cool. Miles was quite a cool guy for someone who liked to blow his trumpet. Fuck. Sorry. That was poor. Maybe I should start that all again.

Sorry for the prolonged absence of your favourite Friday pastime; Knappy broke it and I haven’t had a chance to fix it until now.

The real reason for the sabbatical is two-fold. (1) I got a little bit over it and (2) for reasons of poverty and self-loathing, I unfortunately had to get a job. Hooray! I hear the cries from the peanut gallery. Pipe down Dad. Anyway, the last month or so has been quite manic for me: got back from Mozam, had an interview, wowed with my intellect, charm and god (sorry, typo – good) looks, was plonked behind a computer and told to code like those kids in Hackers. What do I know about coding? Well, I’ve seen Hackers about 40 times. But that’s only for Angelina’s boob shot. The truth is not a damn thing. Like I said, manic times in the life of Jamo. As luck would have it, I have managed to keep a white-fingered grip on things and am slowly managing to claw my way into some semblance of understanding.

Welcome to those I found in Ali G’s monstrous mailing lists. Have no idea who some of you are but you know Ali so you must be fun loving criminals.

As part of my new found computer geekdom, I went to a Microsoft seminar type thing the other day. What a different experience. There was some other kind of sub-culture going on there; Lots of black clothing, ponytails, white socks and pants about an inch too short. The good news is that I’m not in any danger of becoming a computer nerd; I’m just not smart enough. It felt like varsity all over again: chilling in the back row, feeling very confused and passing snide little chirps about the kids in the front row whose understanding of the topic exceeded my current understanding at the age of two. At one point the speaker was describing a method of creating buffer overflows (no idea, but I’m getting down with the jargon, isn’t?) and as he moved towards the crux of his point, the screen full of random characters, he pointed to a section of code ‘41414141’ and he said “and what character is that hexadecimally?” At which point the audience chorused laughingly because it was so obvious “A”. Fuck me. You kids need to see some sunlight.

Hobbo even posted quite an amusing little guy last week. Nice one son.

Unleash the Dogs of War. Best touch team in history.

Featuring:

Bruce “Hair” Henwood dominating with his deceptive pace in the midfield.
Dave “Jen doesn’t call the shots. Seriously. Okes man, come on. Seriously. Shut up. I do what I want. Seriously. Ah fuck off man Jamo. Seriously.” Hobbo and Calves wrecking havoc in defense.
“Dwight” Reginald (Google it) and his explosive pace.
Doug “Herpes isn’t an STD, it’s a rite of passage” Labs and the silky skills he honed on Southbroom beach with the Mighty Ducks.
Neil “I’m fine to drive; check it out, I can still move that toe over there” Harvs covering more ground than Nolene’s ass.
Trent “Muliaina” Mills with his formidable crash-ball technique.
Phila “Lawmaker” Zulu, his most elusive self.

Tom Petty rocks man. I dare you to listen to “Running Down a Dream” and not yearn to be cruising on the open road somewhere.

Sorry, this ramble has been pretty poor. Have a lot of content in my head, just need to find time to put it down on paper. It might even include a little mini-series entitled “how Hobbo slept his way across the prostitutes of Mozambique”. Promise to climb back on the horse properly. And by ‘the horse’ I mean writing the ramble and not as you might be thinking a certain lovable red guy.

Ok bye bye.

Love, kisses and…Munners wait for it…vaginal discharge.

What happened to the Ramble?

I have a few theories…

1. Knappy’s gravitational force became so large that it sucked Jamo into an uncontrollable spiral until he crashed head first into the big pile of red ooze rendering him helpless and without the ability to talk crap.
2. Knappy sat on Jamo unknowingly and squeezed all of Jamo’s creative intellect from his skull, after which time it was absorbed by the red ooze.
3. Rowan changed so much that, through his influence, the entire Internet changed its elementary physical structure disabling the ability to translate binary code into readable format.

4. Jamo changed so much that, through his actions of going to work and not living the Jamo lifestyle, the entire volume of beer in the world was thrown out of balance, shifting the Earths axis and forcing an uncontrollable spin resulting in, once again, Jamo’s creative intellect being sucked from his skull and being absorbed by the ooze.
5. Kent disappeared and took the English language with him.

mmm…one of those.