The Eight Deadly Sens – Part Deux

In the three months since I wrote the first half of my musical profiles on the Crossbench Senators (which were pretty obsolete even at the time) a lot of crazy shit has gone down in Canberra. Australia’s Woodstock Floriade has come and gone, Australia’s Disneyland Cockington Green has done a roaring school holiday trade and Eric Abetz has learnt to control silver with his mind. So where the Corangamite have I been? Well, mostly stuck on a horrible writing procrasticoaster, riding in circles around the rickety well-worn tracks of my limbic system while a sneering coat-hanger of a carny refused to budge the breaks. But the other reason for the wormwood-bitter pang of my absence is that each of the dozen times I’ve sat down to patter out this post I’ve been so overwhelmed with tedium and despair at the state of our Parliament that I’ve shut down into a drooling Palmeralysis. So, after a not-insignificant amount of pulling with the aid of needle nosed pliars and fermented grape juice, I present to you – my teeth.

Jacqui Lambie (Palmer United Party)

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7 Reasons Why The Kid’s Show “Madeline” Is About The Secret Bloodline of Christ

I want something to go viral. My toes are adorned with a mysterious scaly pox that I really ought see a doctor about, but I’m pretty sure that’s fungal. I think we can all agree that I’m inherently entitled to the perpetual worship of a million frothing fans. Fans who’ll live for my debonair wit and heartbreaking pathos before I recruit them to fight in my zeitgeist-shifting green anarcho-socialist non-violent love revolution. I’m not necessarily saying that I’m more gifted or inspiring than the average schmo, only that I’m more gifted and inspiring than a lot of people who do possess the adoring legion that I need to achieve my megalomaniacal ends. For instance, why aren’t Sinead O’Connor and Amanda Palmer having lengthy open-letter debates about me, and whether the “Lil Elvis n The Truckstoppers” reference in my last blog was too obscure or yet another previously-unscaled height of my genius?

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