Adaptation 2: My Gay Apple

Yesterday my power adapter died on the way to doing a gig in Buxton. It should must have been an omen, a portent of things to come, because the gig was subsequently cancelled after some sterling comedy-apathy was demonstrated by the good people of said town.

“I may have no pre-sales” I thought foolishly, “but at least I’ll be able to buy a new power adapter.”

Oh how wrong I could be.

Here are some things that you can get in Buxton:
– Free, fresh spring water from a tap in the side of a hill
– Wonderful views of the peak district
– Homophobic ridicule for owning an apple computer
– Wet

Here are some things that you can’t get in Buxton:
– A comedy audience
– An Apple power adapter

There are a number of computer repair/retail shops in Buxton, but I decided to call off my search for the adapter after the proprietor of store #2 told me that “there isn’t much call for those gay computers here.”

To be honest, I was disappointed that I couldn’t get a new adapter, but I knew what he meant: Apple computers are pretty gay. Not just a little bit either, but full-blown gay; 100% homo. I can understand why he wouldn’t stock any in his shop, and in hindsight, I’m a little embarrassed for asking him.

It was after-all, my computer’s homosexuality that resulted in the broken power adapter in the first place. It’s a well known that fact that all Apple computers are homosexual, but what most people don’t realise is that these abnormal (and distinctly unchristian tendencies) stem not from the computer is self, but are vile, unholy, unnatural urges emanating gayly from the power adapter. It’s not unheard of for Apple power adapters to exhibit sexual aggression and even violence towards men that it fancies as the gayness takes hold and it attempts to sodomise everything in site.

It wasn’t so much that my adapter broke, it’s more that it was destroyed by an angry Scotsman who took umbrage at my adapter’s clumsy attempts to penetrate him anally. The Scotsman promptly flew into a (completely justified) anti-apple rage, pulling the plug of my power adapter from his sphincter and flinging it into a nearby brick-wall where it smashed into several camp-looking pieces. It should be noted that said Scotman didn’t spill even one drop of the IRN-BRU he was drinking while all this occurred.

Thinking back on the incident now, I’m ashamed that I even took my broken adapter into the stores of the fine men and women of Buxton as I probably exposed them to near-fatal levels of homosexual radiation (gay-rays) that are leaking from my crippled power cable. If they, or any of their children “turn gay”, then I’ll have to live with that forever.

I was chased out of Buxton this morning by an angry mob of PC techs and laptop salesmen angrily wielding USB dongles and CAT-5 cables and so I’ve come to Manchester to finally end this madness by throwing my adapter, laptop and finally myself into the gaping anus of the city’s incinerator – apparently it’s the only way to purge the world of the evil that I unwittingly unleashed on the fair town of Buxton.
As I type these words, flames are lapping around me and itunes shuffle started to play Rocket Man by Elton John, a song which I’ve never purchased, but is of course part of Apple’s factory default settings.

Farewell my friends.

In for a £ing

I’m not sure whether it’s malnutrition, a lack of self-confidence or maybe it wasn’t breast-fed as a child, but there is something horribly wrong with the Australian dollar. A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazon and suddenly the AUD is face-down on the canvas, losing blood and spitting out teeth. I don’t care if our dollar can’t throw a punch, but it should at least try to occasionally kick the Pound in the balls.

It would even be O.K. if all the other currencies were failing, but they’re all standing tall, leering at our dollar as it lies hog-tied on the floor, whimpering through a gimp mask. I’d like to think that it’s going to get up, but the Deutsche Mark has a boot at its throat and the Danish Kroner is fetching the Vasoline. I think it’s going to be a long recession.

The weird thing is, Australia would never accept this kind of pounding if it happened in any other area. If we were thrashed to within an inch of our life on the world sporting stage, then there would be a nation-wide uproar, a royal commission and lots of angry men in pubs. But when the Aussie Dollar goes down 5-0 to Paraguay, suddenly we pretend that don’t understand and we blame it on the finance boffins.

Well I think it’s time to take a stand, because it’s getting embarrassing, and I think I know why it’s happening. I think that our dollar likes to be punished. Here we were, all this time, assuming that our dollar hates being humiliated on the global markets, sneered at and pissed on by the other currencies, but I think that’s exactly what it’s into. We’ve got a dollar with masochistic tendencies, it likes the humiliation and pain.

Now I’m not presuming to know what’s right and wrong in the area of global economics, but I’d really prefer to have a less-kinky currency. Can swap this dollar out for a new one that doesn’t enjoy getting a regular pounding? If not, can we at least make sure that it knows what the safety word is?

Nazis are Dicks

The thing that I like about Neo-Nazis, becuase it’s important to have something, is that if you ever forget just what a bunch of dicks they are, they’ll be gracious enough to remind you. No other group of angry, shorn, racists will be so diligent in reminding you of their failings, which is one thing I’m grateful.

Most recently of course, two young Neo-Nazis were arrested in the United States for conspiracy to commit acts which included stealing firearms, shooting dead 88 African American students, beheading another 14 students and then assassinating Barack Obama – all the while, wearing white tuxedos and top hats. As I said, what a bunch of dicks. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing worse than being shot by a fascist with a single-digit IQ, is being shot by a fascist with a single-digit IQ wearing a white tuxedo. Roger Moore was the only person who looked good in a white tux, and even he was a bit of a dick.

Most astounding to me, was the specificity of the numbers involved: 88 and 14, and it was only after I read into the story a little more that I realised how frightening these guys were. The number 88 is auspicious to white supremacy as it references a white power manifesto called The 88 Precepts, a long list of rules kind of like the Ten Commandments, but for Nazis. It’s basically 88 reasons why Nazis are, you guessed it, dicks.

The list includes all of the basic extreme right-wing rhetoric that you’d expect from a Nazi manifesto, like: gays and blacks are bad, whites are good; but it also broadens the net of hated people to include “those of one’s own race who commit treason against one’s own kind and against the nations of one’s own kind.” That is, you should specifically hate those who are “diluting the white race” by interbreeding. Interbreeding = racial treason. Now I didn’t realise that I was an enemy of the white state, but I have a Jewish girlfriend, so I guess that makes me a race traitor. I mean, technically we haven’t interbred yet, but that’s only because she’s too busy controlling the media.

The final straw for me was the hypocrisy of the entire philosophy. Several of the precepts directly contradict each other (I’ll let you read those nuggets of joy yourselves) and even the actions of the two men seems to require a masters degree in doublethink. Both men stated that they believe that they would probably die as a result of their actions and that they were prepared to do so. But if you’re planning to kill a bunch of innocent people and then die yourself, why not just cut out the middleman? For a group of people so proud of their Aryan heritage, they seem very slow to adopt German efficiency.