Raisin Toast is'nt going to take ANYMORE SHIT!

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Hey there Hot Stuff! I'm a Law student!

When we introduce ourselves as a law student to the opposite sex, how will that change their perception of us? Will it be met with attraction and curiosity? ambivalence? negative stereotyping? or even unexplainable violence?

Well, because we are generally proud of our own status as “law students” we tend to assume that others will be equally proud of us and that the mere mention of that status will unconditionally project our character as being one of intelligence and depth. Indeed the phrase “I am a Law Student” can have that effect on a particular love-interest; but only if it is introduced with the right timing and in the right context.

Timing

The timing of the phrase “I study law” can be the difference between pomposity and humility; the difference between flowing conversation and self-centered interjection. Below is an example of poor timing

*Sarah, a law student, is driving her car when she hits a male cyclist. When Sarah jumps out of her car to assist the male, she realises that, although he is now squirming in the gutter, he is very attractive*

Sarah: Oh my goodness, are you ok?

Attractive male: mmmmaaarrrgh, agh

Sarah: I’m so sorry

Attractive male: Per... p... please call an ambulance

Sarah: yeah... hey, you know, I study law

Attractive male: Help me!

Sarah: Hey! I’m the one who’s enrolled in a demanding course

Attractive male: mmph, gaaaah 

*the attractive male spots a pedestrian with a phone in the distance and begins to pull himself along the gutter. Sarah slowly paces beside the attractive male discussing her lucrative career options*

Here, Sarah would have done better to wait until asked by the attractive male “what do you study?” and to then answer “I study Law”. This better timing would not have pushed her to an act of criminal negligence, and would have made her look “better” in the eyes of the attractive male.

The right context

If you have your eye on somebody, before you tell them that you study the law, make sure that they do not hate the law. In other words, make sure that they are not an anarchist. Now I know that anarchists are rare, but they do exist, and if you don’t do your homework the conversation may turn out badly, like this:

*A male Law Student, Julian, gets talking to a girl, Tegan, at a park. During this initial conversation, he did not enquire as to whether she was an anarchist. They are now lying in the glowing sun, side by side on the grass, and Tegan is holding Julian’s hand*

Julian: so are you happy to be back at uni again Tegan?


Tegan: Yeah, Its just so great to see everyone again. And I’m really enjoying my subjects. Sorry, what do you study? You didn’t tell me?

*Julian’s smile grew*

Julian: Oh, I study law

Tegan: Anarchy

Julian: sorry what did you say?

Tegan: Anarchy!!!

Julian: I’m sorry I dont understa...

*Tegan picked up a stick and began hopping furiously around Julian*

Tegan: ANARCHY!!!

Julian: Oh my god!

Tegan: ANNNAAARRRCHYYYYYYY!!!!!!

Unfortunately Julian is now constantly pursued by Tegan who uses the internet to track his movements. Tegan spontaneously intercepts Julian, prodding him with a stick. This prodding occurs roughly on a weekly basis, and should remind us that disclosure of our Tertiary choices must be done with the utmost of caution.

In conclusion

You’re law degree is a double edged sword in the realm of courting. But if you weild it wisely, you can strike the heart of your potential lover with the sword. I think that that analogy is ok. It is a bit weird, but I think that it is ok. 

Socialist Alliance Board Meeting Minutes (28/07/11)

Monash Socialist Alliance Minutes

       
    1.      Apologies:

-        Peter Swayne (Kindergarten and Primary School Revolutions Officer)
   

          2.    Animal Voting Rights on the Board

-        The question was put to the board: “should we continue our policy of encouraging animals to vote?”

-        The Communications Officer voted no, and said that the animals only ever abstain from the vote

-        The majority voted yes. The duck and the cat abstained

          3.      Communications Officer Report

-        The communications officer suggested that the Socialist Alliance may be too confronting and assertive in its communications with Monash students

          4.      Openings for Communications Officer

-        An new opening was announced for the position of Communications Officer

-        An injured fruit bat, possessed by the president, was voted into the vacancy. The fruit bat has a broken wing, and will serve the socialist alliance for the duration of its physical recovery.

          5.      The roof protest

-        Four members of the Socialist alliance took to the Campus Center Roof on Tuesday in order to protest against altitude

          6.      A new threat: Anti Socialism

-        Mrs. Haller, a certified psychologist* from the Life Coaching Institute, informed the board that “anti-social behaviour” is not a psychological trait, and that it is instead a new  oppositional, capitalistic ideology. Mrs. Haller said that “Anti-Social behaviour IS Anti-Socialism”

          7.      Treasurer’s report

-        The treasurer asked that the board support the diversion of all funds to the fight against Anti-Socialism

-        The motion was seconded and passed.

           8.      General consensus on being radical

-        The board agreed that they should all be radical

End of meeting

My fringe bares the scars of my disloyalty

Haircuts are political. There's nothing worse than running into your old hairdresser with a new haircut from somewhere else... especially when its a bad haircut. Its upsetting and everybody looses. I found this out a few days a go and wrote this song.

Click Here to Listen!

Train Delay

Wait for a train (click) here!

What kind of person is called an invigilator?

It was exam time and Hailey was walking down Burke Rd to get to Caulfield Racecourse. Every year, for the past three years, her exams were held at the Racecourse. The Racecourse reminded Hailey of all things impersonal: like camp-food, and birthday cards from Telstra. The place was huge and the tables were light and cheap. Hailey preferred to be alone to her thoughts before an exam, so she stopped on the foot-path, 100 meters away from the exam-room... but when she stopped, a man crashed into her back. Hailey’s mind was occupied and revising the law of Torts, so Hailey barely noticed

“ah, sorry!” the clumsy guy said. Hailey began to walk again. “Excuse me? Lady? Tell me, is this where the exams are?”. Hailey stopped to answer him, and he ran into her again. Hailey started

“Hey! What, who are you?”

“The Doctor” He replied

Hailey knew that line from somewhere. Some piece of general information was enlivened in the back of her mind when he said “the doctor”, but whatever it was, it had no hope of rising through the web of law and facts that Hailey had recently spun in her brain. Hailey put her hand to her forehead

“The doctor? Are you a med-student? Because if you are, i think med exams might be held somewhere else. Sorry, I have to go, see you l...” The Doctor interrupted

“Hailey you don’t...” Hailey shivered and a few webs of law fell from her brain, now she was getting frustrated

“You know my name?!”

“Ofcourse I know your name. I also know that your dog’s name is an anagram for terracotta"

Hailey thought about it and a bundle of web (worth about two marks) disappeared instantly

“Stop it!! Stalk me after the exams if you want just... ARGH!!” Hailey was running out of time, so she ran away from that creep. She was the first to sit down in the exam room, still a bit nervy. She was trying to regain her composure when she heard that voice. The Doctor’s voice

“Hailey!” it whispered “Hailey!”

Hailey squeezed her eraser and, without turning, she screamed “WHAT!!!!?”. All of the invigilators looked towards Hailey , and The Doctor huddled beneath his jacket. One of the invigilators walked up to Hailey and asked what was wrong.  As he approached, The Doctor screwed up into a little ball of jackets, scarves and gloves. Hailey smiled. Exams made her a bit more evil than she usually was. 

“I’ll tell you what the problem is!" she said, "Its this guy!” Hailey pointed to the empty table behind her. Her smile inverted “Where did he go?”. The invigilator gave her a warning

“I hope you realise that your exam could be taken from you if you repeat this nonsense during, er, the exam”. Hailey looked at the invigilator's shoes

“But he was there, he said he was called The Doctor”. The Invigilator’s whole face turned to hailey, with a serpentish stare... it wasn’t... it wasn’t human. Whatever it was, it scared just enough web from Hailey’s brain to let that little voice run up to her ear and scream “IT WAS DOCTOR WHO! IT WAS THE DOCTOR!”. With the same wide-eyed, sharp and serene stare, the invigilaltor twisted his head as he slammed Hailey’s table with both hands. Hailey Ran. Nobody else really noticed, and if they did, it barely registered beneath all of the web in their brains.

Outside, the doctor was extending his hand towards Hailey but jogging away from her and calling out something at the same time, like the second runner of a relay about to receive the baton. Hailey made contact and they sprinted into the bathrooms. Hailey, gasping and still thinking a bit about her exams, looked out the little opening above the wash basins. She saw one old man walking from the carpark towards the exam-room, but then she saw more and more old men, with the occasional old lady. It was a hoard of grey people, or a river of them, they kept on coming.

“What is happening?” she said. Hailey was still a bit skeptical, so she sounded like a teenage girl trying not to be amazed by anything. The doctor had a peak too.

The Doctor: “They are invigilators”

Hailey: “I know that”

The Doctor: “I dont think you do Hailey. They aren’t human, they only pretend to be”

Hailey: “What?”

The Doctor: “Oh come on Hailey, they are called “Invigilators”, does that really sound human to you?”

Hailey: “Shit you’re right. So what are we dealing with? Where do they come from”

The Doctor: “They are pure evil i’m afraid. They prey on the incontinent”

Hailey: ...

The Doctor: Look at how many of them there are. They must know i’m here. Christ, they must be coming from Deakin and Swinbourne and... I remember that one, he’s from Melbourne Uni!

Hailey: Wait, go back to the incontinence thing

The Doctor: Well thats how the Invigilators multiply. They go to exams that last for 2-3 hours, and wait for the couple of students that raise their hand wanting to go the toilet. They then guide the weaklings to the bathrooms and BINGO! The poor kids are aged 50 years and turned into an invigilator. Its all done with lasers

Hailey: But wh... why?

The Doctor: Its university policy to pick on the incontinent. Its always buried towards the back of the uni charters

Hailey: My university is run by people though, not invigilators. They wouldn't do that.

The Doctor: Hailey, who is the Chancellor of your university?

Hailey: umm, I actually dont know

The Doctor: I thought so

Hailey: Oh my god

The Doctor: Anyway, I was going to take out these guys but now there's too many. I better go... oh, hey Hailey, do you want to come travelling with me? *The doctor placed his arm around Hailey’s waste*

Hailey: Hey! Get off!

The Doctor: aww damn

Hailey: Fuck this degree, I’m going home

Raisin Toast hits the Dance Floor

*We were at Rats on a Saturday Night. There were about ten of us and I was really looking forward to dancing. The dancefloor was pretty packed, but we found a good corner with a bit of room. This song came on first: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkzHajYXbyE. And these were my thoughts (If you open the song in a different window when this sentence finishes, then the song will synchronise with Raisin-Toasts thoughts below!)*
___________________________________________________________________________

Woah, nice music. I haven't heard this song before. I'll look at Claire, get some eye contact going. Ok, no eye contact there. Maybe Sarah? no. DAMN I think Claire just looked at me, missed it. Ok here we go.

There's the beat! I'll just let loose. WOOOOOO!!!!... no, now there is too much eye contact. And now there is no eye contact. Why is everyone looking away. I hate it when people look around the room. Yeah that's right, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence... you bunch of pesimistic cows. Oh wait... Awesome! i've got a thing going with Tim. Heeeey Tim! I dont think this is weird... I mean I think this song is pretty man-to-man friendly: these lyrics are pretty impersonal... yeah, this is great, I'll probably get to know Tim better through this. I mean I barely know him, so the eye contact is surprising. Alright look away for a bit. Maybe Claire?... no. Sarah? no. Here comes the chorus, I'll just look at Tim again. Heeeeey Tim! *bops and points at Tim until the Chorus comes*.

Chorus: I think that the chorus just said "Tonight I'm lucky you!". That doesn't make sense, but I'll mime it anyway. Heeeyyy TIM! TONIGHT I"M LUCKY YOU!!. damn it, i've lost Tim too. Oh, no, it says "FUCKING you...". So Tim must have thought I was... Fuck thats fucked up, you fucking... fuck. Ok. fuck. Ok, damage control: Females! Females! No thats worse!! This is ridiculous anyway. I mean how many people actually come to these clubs, and then, on the spur of the moment, "fuck" people. Maybe five or six. But there isn't any need to normalise it for the other 500 of us. Fuck fuck fuck.

Ok, second verse, give me some respite. Just try to fit back in... no, you know what, just have fun. You're here to have fun. wait... "If I had a type"?... "I know you're ready"?... "If I never lied"?... "Here's the situation, Been to every nation?". Great, so i'm a dishonest slut who has been unfussily slutting all over the world... I'm NOT A SLUT! haha, actually you should mime that, nobody will notice, but it will be funny. Haha! oh my god, you totally did it. You're great.

Sarah? no.... Claire? no

I'm getting a drink.

As A Friend

RaisinToast puts to song the universal frustration and difficulty of wanting to be friends with ex-girlfriends/boyfriends. I initially recorded it last night, at 3am in the morning, but I was so tired that I was mumbling stuff towards the end. So I did one more take today to procrastonate from other things

 Click Here for song and lyrics

The Aftermath of the Rapture

A disclaimer: This post only tries to put the extreme "FamilyRadio" conception of Christianity into context. It is now the 22/05/2011, so the fact that Jesus has not killed us all (as Family Radio told us he would) is only more proof that Jesus is/was a top bloke. But, yep, this post just pretends that FamilyRadio were right, and that the Rapture did occur, and it looks at the twisted implications of that. Its anti-FamilyRadio, not anti-Christian... phew
________________________________________________________________

The forecast of a 21/05/2011 Rapture came from here: http://www.familyradio.com/graphical/literature/judgment/judgment.html

The forecast was correct, and 6 billion people were exterminated. But, as predicted, 200 Million people were saved. Those 200 million people placed Jesus on trial in the International Court of Justice for the crime of Genocide. It was a short Judgment presided over by Chief Justice South. Part of the transcript is below:

South CJ: Jesus Christ, following your acts of the 21^st of May 2011, you have been charged with the crime of Genocide. How do you plead?

Jesus Christ: Not guilty your honour

South CJ: Jesus, under these exceptional circumstances, this court is going to dispense with formalities. Look, Jesus, over a period of twenty four hours you were complicit in the killing of 6 billion people, 2 billion of those were children, another 800million of those were over the age of 80 and over 3 billion were women. Why do you plead not guilty to Genocide?

Jesus Christ: They were all sinners

South CJ: Don’t you feel any mercy?

Jesus Christ: I am merciful. I am the all-merciful.

South CJ: What is wrong with you?

Jesus Christ: I would have saved them if they repented

South CJ: Jesus, that lady sitting over there in the gallery is Yang Wen. Her 4 year old daughter, whom you killed, would have had a better understanding of mercy than that which you appear to have. Jesus, mercy is about making concessions to the choices and circumstances of others; it is about putting  yourself in the position of other people... yet you put up your own hurdles, your own standards, and kill people as they trip over them.

Jesus Christ: But I...

South CJ: Jesus, there is a family sitting in the gallery, behind you, and you murdered their homosexual son.

Jesus Christ: ...

South CJ: Do you have anything to say?

Jesus Christ: ... I think... the holy spirit... ...

South CJ: Are you raising the defence of mental impairment?

Jesus Christ: No I’m n...

Counsel for Jesus Christ: Yes my client is your honour

South CJ: Counsel, for such acts of evil, I would have hoped that mental impairment could be the only explanation.

_________________________________________________________________________

These are the lyrics to a love-song called: My Dear

Yesterday we were wading in the orange waves

The beach was now the empty scene of that warm day

Just you and me and our love.

My dear

I thought I was meant to be alone

My dear

They said I was strange, that I would never find you

My dear

I guess they were wrong, because I found you my love

My dear

I took you to the movies, the other night

I said that I loved your coat tonight

And you looked at me as if to say “thankyou”

But when we got inside, Everyone had those judging eyes

The Cinema Owner told you that you weren’t allowed inside

Because they didn’t allow animals inside

So we went outside

I thought I was meant to be alone

My dear

They said I was strange, that I would never find you

My dear

I guess they were wrong, because I found you my love

My dear

So we went back to the place that we first met

But the zoo keepers chased us out

So we went to visit your parents

But the zoo-keepers chased us out again

And You weren’t talking again.

My dear.

I asked

How do you feel my dear?

You said  “Bare”

I know, I said, I feel bare too, this love is like a... a...

“Bear!” you said

Yes, you’re right, a big big grizzly bear, tearing at our hearts

“Bare”

We all feel Bare I said

I thought I was meant to be alone

My dear

They said I was strange, that I would never find you

My dear

I guess they were wrong, because I found you my love

My dear

Raisin Toast covers Hallelujah!

Click Here!


Reviews


"great. just what the world needs. another cover of hallelujah...". The Australian Culture Preservation Society 


"The way that Raisin Toast has abused this song... I mean this is really depressing stuff, even by my standards, and i am just so depressed." Leonard Cohen

The Graded Tute

At 10:55 am, Amy was the first person to reach room E218 of the Menzies Building. She knocked on the door, and nobody answered, so she opened it and walked in. Amy wanted to be sitting alone in the room when the tutor arrived, so that she would give the best impression; it was going to be a graded tute.  But before it closed behind her, the door was caught by Joseph, who held it open for his friend Callum. Amy saw everyone in her classes as either a stepping stone or a hurdle on the grading “Bell-Curve”. As far as Amy was concerned, Joseph was just a stepping stone, so she smiled at him. But when Amy saw that Callum was in the tute, her cat-smile screwed up like a tissue on a bush-fire. Callum was a hurdle on the bell curve.

The tutor walked in. She was a dolled up soccer-mom type. She didn’t look friendly. Amy shot up

“Hi, I’m Amy!”

Amy’s hair and makeup hadn’t changed for years; she kept it as it was in her University photo, so that the Tutors could recognise her when they did their marking.

“Hello Amy, I am Mrs. Langer” Said the tutor

Amy lit up and cat-smiled at Callum. Callum was busy texting the answers for a Science Prac to his friend.

Another ten students arrived before the Tutor began – this is how the tute went:

Mrs. Langer (tutor): Now, welcome to Criminal Law tutorials. I am Sandra Langer. Students, this is a graded tute, so I will be judging your thinking speed and your intellect. Lets begin with non sexual assaults. Ok, you *The tutor pointed at Joseph* What is the definition of a crime?

Joseph: um... I... is it... a wrong that people think should be punished?

Mrs. Langer: Not a very good definition *The tutor wrote something on her class sheet*

Callum: Sorry, could you please give us a good “definition of a crime”, Mrs. Langer?

*Mrs. Langer looked at Callum shaking her head in silence as she wrote something more on her paper*

Callum: no?

 Amy: A crime is an intended or careless wrong punishable by the criminal justice system

Mrs. Langer: Excellent Amy! 20 points! Ok the next question is... Callum you tell me, what is the next question that we have to ask?

Callum: the next question?

*Amy and Mrs. Langer shook their heads at Callum*

Callum: What!? Why are you... you’re the tutor, aren’t you meant to be helping us to learn these things?

Mrs. Langer: Don’t know the answer Callum? Well, its your grades I suppose

Callum: Don’t speak to us like that

Mrs Langer: I’m sorry Callum?

Callum: You don’t have any grounds from which to condescend when you are being so condescending.  If you value “reading speed” and “mental gymnastics” above being a good person, you are unintelligent Mrs. Langer.

Mrs. Langer: Well, I just hope that you weren’t planning on being hired by a law firm one day, Callum.

Amy: *chuckles*

Callum: How is your life Mrs. Langer?

Mrs. Langer: come on, lets move on

Callum: Yeah I thought so. Well, hey, I bet you got some excellent grades at uni.

The end
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p.s. While this is based on a true-story, its not an accurate characterisation of most graded tutes (which are generally happy and hunkydory)

pps. These are two great photos that my friends took of melbourne. They're actually entered in a competition, so you can vote for them, but even if you don't vote for them they are just worth havng a look at.

http://www.loveitup.com.au/australiasmostlovedcity/?iid=15751&source=fb_share#/Vote/15751

http://www.loveitup.com.au/australiasmostlovedcity/#/Vote/15500

Raisin Toast Advice Line

(Raisin Toast recently had an online session where readers could ask Raisin Toast for advice. Below is a transcript of the session.)

Hey there guys, and welcome to RaisinToast’s inaugural “Advice Line”. This will be an opportunity for Raisin Toast to meet some of its regular readers, find out who they are and find out how Raisin Toast can help them. Shoot us your questions!

Jamie's_Mum446:  cook the dinner.

Thanks mum, somebody else? Whoelse is out there?

Reltih_Izan66: Hello Raisin Toast. I call my own mobile phone from my home-phone, but I dont pick up my mobile phone. Instead, I let it ring through and I listen to my own Voice-Mail message, and I talk to it. Its weird you know, its like talking to yourself in the past.

I dont know... was that a question?

Reltih_Izan: Yes

Well ok Reltih, thankyou.  Any other QUESTIONS from anyone? maybe somebody else?

Reich_Fish91: @RaisinToast, I was cooking gnocchi for lunch today, and two of the gnocchi never floated to the top of the pot. What should I do?

Reich_Fish91: hello Raisin Toast? are you there?

Yep I'm here. Ok. What is the problem exactly? Are you worried that the two gnocchi are bad because they did not float?

Reich_Fish91: yes

Well I don’t think that that is the way that gnocchi works, but if you are concerned about the two gnocchi, I think that you should refrain from eating them. Ok?

Reich_Fish91: thankyou

That’s ok. Anybody have any real problems? Like relationship problems?

FuhrerCat: Hi Raisin Toast. I shaved my head, but my hair didn’t grow back. What should I do?

... ok. Um, I’m interested in your name “FuhrerCat”. Did you shave your head for any particular political cause?

FuhrerCat: just for charity

And who sponsored you?

FuhrerCat: The Frankston Nazi Party

Oh for fuck's sake!

FuhrerCat: are you a Jew?

No!

FuhrerCat: @ReichFish, I think that RaisinToast is Jewish

FuhrerCat, you know ReichFish? Hang on... What the hell! that creep who asked the first question @Reltih Izan, your name is just “nazi hitler” spelt backwards!

Reltih_Izan: @Raisin Toast, how dare you! That’s just my name! Its just a normal Kazakhsthani name!

I’m so sorry Reltih!! All of these neo-nazi’s are making me paranoid, I’m really really sorry

Reltih_Izan: I’m still a Nazi

Oh my god

Reich_Fish91: Hey Reltih! =D

So my entire readership are neo-nazis? Is there anybody out there who reads my blog and who is not a neo nazi?

Reich_Fish91: @Raisin Toast, You’re a Jew!

Mum?

Jamie's_Mum446: sorry honey. Heil the Fuhrer.

Ok, I’m ending this session

Transcript of Gaddafi's televised speech 27/04/11

I am Gaddafi, I am so glorious

The western characterisation of the situation in Libya is wrong and bad. There is only one true explanation for Libya today. As I predicted years ago, insane people can fly and so the extremists have flown the insane into the sky to harvest the rainbows of their hallucinogens. I want to stop this, and the west tells me to “lie down”? yes, and I say to them that your jurisdiction cannot extend to my sleeping position. I sleep standing-up in full knowledge that it inconveniences the west.

I love Libyans, but they must pay with their life. I was thinking yesterday that “must” sounds like “mustard” and so mustard will be banned for as many months as it takes for Mamoosh to reach Paris. Mamoosh is an elderly man for whom I have set the task of crawling to the French capital without using his legs or knees. When he finally reaches Paris, his arm muscles will be so strong that he will take the whole of Europe for Libya.

Libya is now called “My Breasts”, and each citizen will adopt the name of a dairy product. My Breasts will be powered by athletes on stationary bikes. The greatest wastage of energy occurs in gymnasiums.

Finally, to ascend, we must make peace with the Bovine. From today, the bovine will enter the Kindergartens and select which children will be their masters, and which children will be educated. If a child is chosen by a cow to be its master, the child will ride the cow into battle against the furniture stores and leather upholsters. The worthy will be victorious.  

Today’s National Anthem is Owl City’s cover-version of “enchanted” by Taylor Swift.

You love me, I am so glorious.

Gaddafi

You're god-damn going to pay for your sushi

Two Japanese sailors were chopping along in their boat, off the coast of Japan. One grabbed the other's attention and pointed at the ocean below. There was an assembly of thousands and thousands of whales. There appeared to be a "Leader-Whale" that they were all facing. The Leader Whale was propped up at a piano, and he was much bigger than the other whales. It was as though the Leader Whale was singing something to the rest (like a speech). One of the sailors had equiptment specifically designed for recording whales singing. He dropped the microphone into the ocean, this is the audio that he captured:

Recording, North-East Japanese coast, 21/04/11. Click here

 

 And this is a written memorandum of its contents/lyrics (but you an get them from listening to the above link):

 

The whales wont stay down forever, you should have done your research better

We're peaceful mammals but we trust in fairness you see. Your're god damn gonna pay for your sushi

 

Something strange about this notion, i mean, an island inciting an ocean? The stupid monkeys would be astounded that, men, we have them surrounded

 

Yes you, with your flipper up, please, speak your mind!

 

"well sir, can we do this, I cant even walk or climb"

 

That's just what the monkeys would want you to think when in fact we have pogo sticks

 

"Really?"

 

Yeah, we do, it's weird, it's weird, but we do.

 

The whales wont stay down forever etc. etc.

 

The real Justice French

Justice French is our current Chief Justice of the High Court of Australia.

Open up this image of Justice French: http://images.smh.com.au/2009/04/08/467555/470french-420x0.jpg

and then open up this song in the background: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=betadlhZs2g

Stare into his sexual eyes.

Raisin Toast enters the Life-Coaching business

Improve your life!

Watch Here!

Excuses

Raisin Toast has some exams on soon. So a little break has, and continues to be in order. But to keep you entertained, here's a song about criminal procedure (not like it hasn't circulated enough on fb already)
Rasin Toast vs. Coldplay
And this is a description of me being post-modern: "I just became a Bhuddist... No wait, now I'm a Catholic. Now I am screaming... Now I am silen... no I'm screaming again. Now I'm calling my Grandma whilst sustaining the scream. I will hang up shortly after she picks up. Nobody would suspect that- least of all my Grandma."

War and Bloody Ancient Greece

For Hitler, Aryan culture was something perfected thousands of years ago by the ancient Greeks and Romans, and he set the goal of returning to the purity once attained by these great european empires. Hitler's New Germany would mirror the art and architecture of the ancients. At the same time, Hitler labelled modern-art, any illustration where the sky wasn't an accurate blue, "degenerative". In 1938 he commissioned an exhibition called "Entartete Kunst" which was a collection of forcibly confiscated modern-art, displayed in a ramshackle way with derogatory captions. Millions saw the exhibition.

This (and my arts degree) got me thinking about what modernity and progress actually are. This mini-mini historical, fictiony story, about the Entartete Kunst exhibition, provides one perspective.   
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It was April 1937, and the tips of Heidi’s face were red with cold. She was waiting for the first delivery of paintings, standing below a banner that read “ENTARTETE KUNST (Degenerate Art), Open’s July 19^th”. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Degenerate_art) . Across the road, the commuting workers walked like toy soldiers past Hitler’s Haus der Deutschen Kunst (Image of Haus der Deutschen Kunst). It was a new museum, the latest masterpiece to drop from Hitler’s dreams onto the streets of Munich. Looking at it, you could tell what it was that Hitler dreamt of for Germany. The museum had enormous concrete pillars and classical open steps: It was a dream about a purity that once existed.  With every new towering monument raised in its name, and with every new athletic male that was born, the German’s would return to the Aryan purity of the ancients. To Heidi, the museum looked like an old Greek ruin, but it had Nazi flags waiving either side of it- at least that was something new.

A tall green truck groaned to a halt, hanging over the gutter. Two soldiers dropped out, one laughing “Why didn’t you break his hands? Then he wouldn’t have been able to paint that shit again”. The other soldier asked for Heidi’s papers, and pointed her to the back of the truck. When she opened the door, a painting fell onto the snowed foot-path. She picked it up, and the snow underneath was left with a line of red; there was blood on the canvas-frame. It was a Kirchner, titled Brandenburger Tor (Image of Brandenburger Tor, Kirchner).   It showed a classical monumental building, just like the Haus der Kunst across the road, but it was bent and slipping down the canvas, in warm orange and blue. Its great pillars were buckled and out-of-place in Kirchner’s new world. Heidi took the Kirchner into the exhibition building, shaking her head and mouthing the words: “i’m sorry”.

The curator of Entartete Kunst, Zeigler, told Heidi to take the painting off the frame, and hang it at knee height in the next room. Eugen, who was working with Heidi, was in the second room, painting a sign on the wall. Heidi walked up behind him to read it: “which of these three drawings is the work of an inmate of a lunatic asylum?”. Heidi dropped the Kirchner, and fell to the ground with it.

Eugen turned from his ladder “Heidi?”. He jumped down, and knelt next to her. She was crying. “what’s wrong Heidi?”

Heidi gattle-gunned a sentence

“This is wrong. Its wrong but its still happening”

Eugen placed his hand on her back, she was shaking. She said

“Progress is just crap. You know I thought it was backward to steal paintings from people, to persecute people, but apparently that’s progress.”

“I know” said Eugen

Heidi looked back to the Kirchner on the ground “Forwards has nothing to do with progress, with what’s right. Everywhere, anywhere is forwards. War and Bloody ancient Greece are forwards from here.”

OneRepublic reading challenge!

Some advice on reading this post: Read, until you get to the link. When you get to the link (which is a youtube song), open it in a seperate window (by holding Ctrl and then clicking on the link) and then leave the song playing in the background whilst you immediately return to the story and read the rest of it!

and hopefully the song syncs up slightly with the story =D
how frustratingly complex =D

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The Gym was packed on a Saturday night, mostly with young men and women, getting into shape so that, had they gone out that Saturday night, they would have attracted more attention on the dance-floor or wherever. The Gym never changed its CD’s, so all the regulars knew the songs off by heart. This one came on.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KU0iWWOKpn4&feature=fvsr

David, who was at the punching bag, knew these first few chords. He widened his stance and puffed at the floor, leaning against the bag, gritting his teeth. He began to act as though he was on a stage, and the whole world was watching. David, rocking back and forth, clicked when he heard these first few words...

He gave the punching bag two quick swings then leant his head against it, squeezing it harder and harder. . Most people in that room setup a “dart-board” version of someone in their minds. David had a person on his mind- on the very front of his mind. David shoved the punching bag forwards, raised his fist and charged on his back-foot. Everyone grabbed a weight, or dropped onto their hands. The chorus came:

David fired on the bag, on the person on his mind, everything she ever said. His mind told his body to do everything it could, and his fists flew. Each punch was for the lies, THUMP, for haunting him ,THUMP THUMP, for not caring, THUMP, for being so damn unfair, for wasting his time. And each punch said that she wont waste any more of his time, that HE DIDNT CARE!.  

The chorus ended... and David fell back onto a bench, like a desperate version of “The Thinker”.

He looked up to the mirror from his bent-over pose. He was tired, baring his teeth, bobbing with his breathes. But the song didn’t let up, and it began again to stir that recklessness in him. He watched his own eyes, got lost in them. He pulled himself up in denial of his exhaustion, in denial of gravity, in purposeful ignorance of anything that resisted his will. He walked back to the bag, to her just in time. He waited, his silence lying about his intentions. And his vision lost focus as the chorus came, and he let go for the last time. Every muscle in his body screamed with the lyrics:

What next?

Funny Jamie (FJ): what should we write next?

Serious Jamie (SJ): I have a few ideas...

FJ: ok, spill

SJ: I was thinking of writing a short story about a man who is a reverse-hunchback.

FJ: Oh shit

SJ: No! It could be good

FJ: What is a reverse hunchback?

SJ: well this guy’s back is bent over backwards, so he’s always looking at the sky

FJ: Hhahaha, What?!

SJ: Screw you. It’s a good idea. His medical condition would be a good device for exploring the “human tunnel-vision”. The reverse hunch-back would be constantly thinking of what is in space, and the universe and stuff because he’s looking at the sky the whole time. Meanwhile everyone else, who just look forwards, is only concerned with... are you ok?

FJ: yeah, why?

SJ: nothing, its just you let me get three sentences into my story there.

FJ: no, im interested

SJ: No you aren’t. What was that?

FJ:...

SJ: what was your idea for a post?

FJ: I’m recording this conversation

SJ: Oh...

FJ: ...

SJ: Screw you

FJ: yeah that’s it

SJ: Fuck this, I’m leaving

FJ: Genius!! Keep going

Door slams.

Raisin Toast tries to study

If the video player doesn't appear below, or its slow, just watch it here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTnV0Jw9izM

Listen to the music link on the side-bar also! It's called "contact high" and ITS  AWESOME!

Raisin Toast sings a dramatic song

I, for one, have never been employed, so I have never been able to "leave a job". But whenever people tell me that they have left their job, I always ask them whether they had left "dramatically". Well they always say that they didn't, and I think that this is a shame. In fact I think that leaving your job should be an incredibly dramatic experience, so I got the old recording equiptment going and wrote a melodramatic song about Tom, who is an overworked junior employee.

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN

Facebook Photos

The party was dying a bit, but then Carla took out her camera. Where-ever she pointed it, people suddenly animated with crazy faces and gattle-gun laughs. The camera was like a spot light that revealed the ridiculously crazy fun that was going on in a parallel universe. Jess, Taylor and Sam lined up for a photo. The camera blipped red and Taylor blinked just before the flash. He felt like he might have had his eyes closed for the photo, and he wanted Carla to take another, but he didn’t say so. Jess had one cheek on Taylor's shoulder, and the other facing the ceiling, so she was going for the safe “side smile”. The side-smile was a safe bet for Jess. Sam went for a half-smile, like she was quietly proud of something.  Sam’s bigger smiles didn’t come out that well in photos, she didn’t think, but sometimes when she went for this half-smile it worked really well. So Sam did that, but after the flash, she felt as though her eyes were too serious and out of sync with her mouth.

Everyone went home early, and the photo hit facebook at 11pm. Sam saw it first, and it was just as she expected. She leant on her elbow and put her hand over the computer-screen, covering her mouth, so she could just see her serious eyes. She whispered to herself “pycho-killer”. Then she put her hand over her eyes so she could just see her mouth. She whispered to herself  “one half of your best photo”. Jess and Taylor looked fine, they looked like Jess and Taylor. Sam wished sometimes that she could just have some good photos of herself... but like really good ones. Anyway, she’d leave this one for a few weeks and then untag it.

Taylor saw the photo on his Wall soon after Sam. Taylor’s eyes weren’t shut as such, in the photo, but he swore that he was either at the very-start or the very-end of a blink. Whatever it was, he looked cheesy. The other two looked fine. Taylor walked over to his mirror and tried some smiles. He could get it right in the mirror. He didn’t untag himself, because he was standing in between two pretty girls, and the photos before this one (in his “photo’s” gallery) were some of his best, so it was ok to have an average one here and there.

Jess found the photo the next morning. She was happy enough with her side-smile. But she thought Sam looked prettier. Jess flicked back through a few of her own photos and she was side-smiling in almost every one.  The next photo that she was in, she was going to have a normal “face-on” smile like Sam. Taylor just looked like Taylor, he looked nice.

Libya, Egypt, Dictators and Democracy: Reigning in the balloons

A small number of people are like helium balloons. They rise because it is just in them to rise. They don’t rise because some good and powerful reason is pulling them up; they would just rise until something physically stopped them. They do have alot to stop them, but they just roll around and push upwards always finding some crack in the ceiling. The only thing that stops a Gaddafi from taking over the world by killing any opposition and stealing everyone’s money is that he isn’t powerful enough to do it. It requires a toxic mentality to have that kind of lift. And these helium balloons are an unfortunate creation, because their toxicity gets amplified as they rise. I think that I met one of them briefly the other day and, I swear, if this person lived without any resistance to her will, she would become president of the world, turn Hawaii into her own tertiary institution and give herself a doctorate in godliness.  Luckily people dont like helium balloons that much, and that’s why democracy is such a tough ceiling for them. I wouldn’t vote for the balloon that I met, no way.

Lets hope that Libya and Egypt can build some solid ceilings

A poem: "I am a poet and I didn't even know...that"

When it is dark

I hold my hand to my chest and feel the beating of my...ventricle

For I am a poet and I didn't even know that

WOW!! China 2016

The Great Hall of The People (The Communist Party Legislature in Beijing) was filled with people. Ordinary people... I suppose. It was a disorganised and mumbling mass. The popping and whining of the lecturn-microphone provoked the people to stumble and stand on their seats, but nothing was happening on stage. Death_Slayer77 took every excuse he could to stand up because his green-leather pants were so tight around his crutch. He turned to Fire_Elve_13, who was rubbing against his shoulder. Fire_Elve, who was a squat, tubby little guy, looked a bit self-conscious wearing a metal plated-bra and a chain-mail skirt. Fire_Elve said to Death_Slayer

“So... how is your clan going?”

Death_Slayer was blushing. He had never seen Fire_Elve in real life, and he had always fantasised about Fire_Elve (who is a spectacularly beautiful female warrior elf, on the internet).

“good, my clan is good.” Death_Slayer said.

The Crowd began to warble, louder and louder. Fire_Elve adjusted his skirt and Death_Slayer picked up his sword. Death_Slayer knocked away the wizard’s hat in front of him, and he saw that the new King of China was about to speak. The King was dressed in green tights and a green skivy with gold embroidery snaking all over his body. His words flattened the squables and whiny jeers of the crowd. This is what the King said:

“This is Historic. So let me explain where we are in the terms and vocabulary of History. The Chinese Communist Party, when they were in power, knew that the internet was their largest threat.”

The crowd made that high pitched “woooo!” noise that males can make.

“So they censored the search engines, they censored the social networks. But never did they suspect that World Of Warcraft (WOW) was digging tunnels under the CPC and eating away at the pillars of their strangle hold. The Elves brought in the information from the free media. The Orcs distributed it. And together, the mighty Clans of WOW overthrew the CPC on the first day of 2016.”

The crowd burst into a frenzy of chest beating (which was the sound of 6000 fat bellies being slapped), high-pitched “Wooo’s!”, coughs and then anaemic splutters.

“In attendance today is the inaugural congress of clan leaders, all of which are level 99 characters, Orcs and Elves. We have some laws to create and pass today. The first is to do with the "new" China’s  currency. The Orcish cabinet has suggested that we use gold. All in favour?... thats a yes, pass the bill. Ok, next is the the health-care system. Now, are health-potions real? Does anyone know, because I think that the government should subsidise health potions. I know that most of you in the room have level 99 vitality anyway”

The floor chuckled

“Ok we are subsidising health potions. The third thing we need to cover is Intellect. As we all know, intellect stat-points increase your mana and increase your chance to score a critical strike when casting spells. So the elves have been pushing for a uniform national education curriculum from prep to high-school. I know that not many of us have kids, or remember whether we have kids, but mana and critical strikes are important, so we should make our education system strong... pass it? Yep, ok that is passed. Guys! Calm down over there!”

A bored Orc in the front row called an elve and “elf”; the elve charged his bow with an arrow and released, flopping  the arrow onto the ground in front the orc. The orc then waddled angrily towards the elve, but tripped over the arrow and slapped onto the ground.

“Come on guys! We are almost done. Just quickly, our Strength stats are very worrying. I think we need to promote more outdoor activity and excercise for the sake of our gold economy.”

The whole congress jiggled in exhausted protest.

“Ok, we’ll come back to that... The last thing on the agenda for today is to find a way to better include female elves and orcs. I dont think that I can see one female in this entire room, and that’s a probem. So guys, females?”

The room went silent

“Females? Anybody? Females?... ok we’ll leave that for next time too. Congress dismissed. Well done my fellow warriors, we did it”.

  

Bed Shopping

I went bed shopping with my parents the other day. The man who served us should have been called Mr. Mattress. Did you know that a couple will sweat 0.5 litres into their mattress per night, creating a good environment for dustmites? Mr Mattress did. Did you know that the coils of a bed become denser towards the middle of the mattress , and that a softer mattress with an internal layer of latex is better for side-sleepers? Mr. Mattress did. And thankgod he did, because there were atleast 100 mattresses on the floor, and only Mr. Mattress could distinguish them.

I was rolling around on the Sealy Posturepedic Queen Crown Jewel (http://sealy.com.au/crownjewel/index.html), trying to decide whether it was better than the Sealy Correct Comfort Body Sense which, unlike the Sealy Posturepedic Queen Crown Jewel, had new “cradling motion technology”... I was wearing a “Make Poverty History” bracelet... gah. I felt so shallow.

I dont know what to make of material-privelage. I guess that there are two kinds: The first is having the basics to be who you are (like food and shelter). The second is being able to massage who you are. Chocolate, beds, TV’s and anything else that you can buy from Chadstone Shopping Center are all massages. And there is something very superficial about all this massaging. A massage just works with what you’ve got, leaving you slightly relaxed but essentially unchanged; An old fat king, bathing his senses in the best silks and the best food, is still fat and disgusting.

The question is how should I feel about massaging myself? (Woah, this article might yet slip into a Catholic shaming of masturbation) Because, the opportunity cost of me massaging myself is ofcourse somebody, usually in another country, not even being able to be who they are (i.e. instead of buying a $1000 Calibre suit, I could keep a family healthy for a year). I can easily justify to myself that I am treating people like they would treat me. That is, if I swapped souls with the homeless guy in Melbourne Central, and he was the guy lying down on the mattresses and writing this post, he wouldn’t be particularly conscious of my state, sleeping on the concrete.

So why do I still feel bad bouncing around a mattress farm like an unsatisfied goldilocks? Why does one feel bad when you dont buy “The Big Issue” from that fluorescent-green guy who screams and jiggles at you? Because if you aren’t treating people in the same way that you would WANT to be treated if you were in their situation, you feel bad. The difficult thing is that we have our own “wants” too.

How should one feel then at the bed shop? I don't think that anyone can say for certain. I for one don't have a "perception of what life is" strong enough to tell others what is right and wrong in such a tangle of self-interest and empathy. Some people assert that they know, but I dont always trust them. I'm working on a puzzle (called life) which I am destined never to finish. Charity might be meaningless, or it might be the only meaning. I'll just see how it fits into my own puzzle for now.


(A disclaimer: although this post ended with "uncertainty is the only certainty", I think that uncertainty creates its own boundaries. One shouldn't go actively harming people, because that would insinuate that you understand the meaning of the "life-puzzle", and other people's "life-puzzles", enough to put a value on them. Actively harming somebody is just as presumptious as telling them what is the right or wrong attitude in relation to charity. I dont think that dickheadedness is demeaned or excused by uncertainty.)

I am Alex

I was on the train yesterday morning and I had the idea for this story. When I arrived home, I watched Black Swan on DVD, which left me slightly edgy and disturbed. When I then went to write up the story, I found myself in a more scared and darker frame-of-mind then usual, and it actually became very hard to keep writing. So I tried to put on music to un-spook me, but every kind of music sounded spooky- even Owl City. I was actually having a "writer's trip", and the story just tapped itself out in a timeless blur of typing, shivering and remembering that those noises were just the possums outside. I did finish it, then I read back over it and shed a tear at 3am, for the first time in ATLEAST 5 years. (i'm glad that I've reset my cry-o-meter, because I was beginning to think that I had forgotten how to do it). Anyway, the great thing about writing is that its recorded, so you can be truely reading something in the light, that was very much written in the dark:
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I am Alex. It was the last train home, and my head was rattling against the window. It had been my first day working as a Lawyer, and Dad was so happy on the phone. The night was dark, and inside my carriage it was bright, so only the streetlamps outside broke through the reflection in the windows. I looked myself up and down in the glass on the opposite side of the carriage. There I was, that was Alex, reclined in a way that a ticket inspector would hate, with streetlamps pulsing past him. I had put 24 years of work into that guy, alot of it for today. Tall, healthy, principled, pinstriped and he didn’t look like he’d budge if a ticket inspector did walk in.

Alex stood up, and I stayed splayed across the seats, but I watched him. Alex started walking across the carriage; for a second he disappeared in between the windows, but he came out the other side, smiling and bright-eyed. A street light shot through his chest, and he turned to watch it fall away. The carriage was a fuzzy dark for Alex, and it was full of passengers that he knew.

On his left was Ms. Tait. He almost fell on her when the train cornered, and when she looked up she recognised him and they smiled at eachother. Her face was particularly fuzzy for Alex, because he hadn’t seen her since he graduated primary school. But she was his favourite teacher at primary school, and she hadn’t aged at all.

“Alex? Is that you? My goodness you are so grown up. Do you still run? Remember you used to win all the races, from prep to year 6. The other teachers wanted the other students to have a turn at winning sometimes, but I never wanted you to stop winning”. Her smile softened, and her head dropped to face the pitch-black floor. “I wanted to help you so much Alex. I wish that... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Alex. Come by my office after lunch tomorrow, you dont have to go to class, and I’ll have chocolates for you ok?”. Alex tilted his head and his smile started to fail from the middle. Ms Tait was going to say something else, but her head shook until it shifted and crumbled in Alex’s memory.

The train had stopped, and the streetlights hung through the carriage like frozen fire-flies. He reached out to one, but his hand slipped right through it.

A greying voice boomed from the back of the carriage “Alex!! Over here”. It was too dark to see who it was back there, but he recognised the voice; The train was moving again and he began to stumble towards it. He walked past a lady who was watching the ground and shaking, just like Ms Tait was. She was wearing a red dress. Alex burst into tears as he walked past her, and he didn’t want her to look up. He felt like he would die if she did.

“Hey Alex, Alex, come on” said the warm man’s voice. A streetlight lit up the man’s face for a moment. He was greying; one of those men who would have made a perfect supermarket Santa-Claus. Another light went past, and Alex recognised him. It was Mr. Adams, the High School Counsellor

“Alex, don’t be upset. If she saw you now..." Mr Adams flicked his eyes over Alex's shoulder to the young women in the red dress. "I mean look at you Alex. I knew that you would be great some day. How have the boys been treating you? I talked to Callum about the incident on Monday, and it wont happen again. Is study ok? If you need to we can push back the exam again? Cheer up. You are so young, and you have so much ahead of you. You’ll be great someday, I know it.”

Alex mustered an adoring smile. He never got to thank Mr. Adams, so he smiled so sweetly, and gave him that box of chocolates.

“Back to the oval Alex. Try to join in with the football, and be assertive. Thats my boy.”

The train went past a football oval. There was a night match on, and the flood-lights broke the reflection and pushed the outside world through the carriage. To Alex, it was as though he was hurtling across the ground on an invisible platform. A flurry of trees snapped and cut through him and he fell to the ground, but he was picked back up by a strong pair of hands

“Alex! Captain! Mate get up. Are you ok? I think you just got knocked out by Fraser. Guys get back to your positions, the Captain’s ok, haha, he’s ok. Look Alex, go to the bench. Coach wont mind, you’ve played some good footy.”

Alex’s team-mates ran outside just before it became dark again and the carriage walls returned. Alex didn’t know where abouts he was in the carriage but he wanted to get back to Mr. Adams or Ms Tait. As he shuffled against the direction of the train, row after row of his university friends emerged from the darkness, to his left and his right.

“Hey Alex, how are you?!”

“Alex my man! Did you finish torts?”

“Alex do you want to see a movie tonight? I was thinking independence day?”

Alex walked faster

“Hey tell me if you want to talk Alex, we all love you. You are the nicest person I know, that anybody knows.”

“Alex, your speech was amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

And he was smiling now

“You won! OH MY GOD YOU WON!! You beat Harvard? Who does that!?”

 And then he saw the lady in the red dress, maybe 10 meters away, like a dot of blood in the darkness.

“Alex, lunch?”

But he ran towards it. He ran towards her.

“I know that you are a genius, but you are going to be such a bad lawyer. You are way too friendly. I’m glad you’re my friend Alex. I feel like I’ve won knowing you.”

And when he reached the red lady, she was looking right at Alex, crying and shaking like before, but smiling too. Alex said

“Mum, its me! Its me!”

She said “I know. I’m so proud.” She was loosing her hair, and her flesh, and she sat, so frail, next to a table of chemo-pills and empty tablet-cartons.

“Alex, you’ll be amazing one day, I know it. I know it. Now go to school. Ms Tait will be worried.”

And when I got off the train, Alex left with me.