whatever or whatever etc.

I AM MOVING FROM THIS BLOG... YOU CAN NOW FIND ME AT http://whateverorwhateveretc.tumblr.com

2011-07-24T11:34:00.000-07:00

my small follow up email to Mike Tod from Air New Zealand

2011-07-21T10:04:00.000-07:00

Hi Mike!
I am surprised I have not heard back from you, but I understand.
You must be very busy.
I just thought I would write and make sure you weren't offended by my proposal and hope you got the chance to check out the pictures of 'The Beauties'
Anyway, I hope you have not written back as you are having a meeting with your marketing team with how best to launch this exciting new project.

Thanks Mike,
kind regards from REUBEN BONNER

also here is a picture of an awesome cat.

POSTCARDS FROM THE BEAUTIES PART 2. THE PROPOSAL. A tale of hope.

2011-07-16T05:05:00.000-07:00

(please see Postcards From The Beauties Part 1 as a background reference http://whateverorwhateveretc.blogspot.com/2011/07/postcards-from-beauties-part-1-dawning.html)

It had been an exciting few days since the dawning of ‘The Beauties’. Adrenaline was running high in regard to my new venture and I knew it would not be long before the word about the new kids on the foot modeling block hit the street and offers for work came flooding through the door.
I had already photographed ‘The Beauties’ in several picturesque spots around Berlin, traveling as far as Devil’s Mountain and also the ‘gay lake’, otherwise known as Dick Island due to the amount of nude 50+ penises available for viewing at any given time over the summer. It really was paradise as all shapes and sizes were available for viewing, although this was not why I had taken ‘The Beauties’ there for a P.S (photo shoot).
I was a professional and not distracted by flights of fancy or a buttload of nude dicks. I was there to work.

With some pretty historic raw photographic footage of ‘The Beauties’, it was time to approach someone who could turn the images into the inaugural… ‘Postcards’.
The team headed into Mitte to meet with one of Berlin’s leading graphic designers to discuss the project. But the guy thought I was a maniac when I asked if he wanted to be involved on a profit/points system as payment as opposed to cash up front, so in the end I decided to make ‘Postcards’ on my own computer. Even though I had 100 other things that needed doing.

My main focus was to put together my proposal for Air New Zealand, who I would target as my main sponsor for the Postcards From..‘The Beauties’ series and subsequent calender.
With 5 complete ‘Postcards’ and a covering letter, I had a good feeling in my bones about the future.

Please see below the letter I had written to the company.

MIKE TOD
MARKETING MANAGER
AIR NEW ZEALAND
NEW ZEALAND (and beyond)

Dear Mike Tod (the Marketing Manager of Air New Zealand),

This is definitely not a chain letter, I am from New Zealand also and used to work in marketing just like you. Well, not exactly, but I did used to sell paintball tickets in a pyramid scheme type business and learnt a few things about marketing in the process. So we are not really so different you and I.

I now live in Berlin and am writing a book about going for a Guinness World record for highest jump by a pig. I am currently in training with my pig and faithful ally Kenny Powers the Great. The current record is here
http://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/records/natural_world/animal_extremes/highest_jump_by_a_pig.aspx
As you can see it is no mean feat to accomplish, but we are both committed and live daily by the motto ‘Kotetsu Must Fall’. (Kotetsu is a vietnamese potbelly who holds the current record just incase you didn’t know).
I also play in a band called An Emerald City, we are quite famous in New Zealand especially in the 40-50 year old hippy category, but not really anything compared to people like Crowded House, Dave Dobbyn or Dane Rumble.
We did recently get a favourable review on the Good Morning breakfast show by Joanna Hunkin, who in my opinion is a massive babe, and I am pretty happy to add that she referred to our music as ‘seductive’, which is not bad for an instrumental band. You can probably google that for proof if you want.

Anyway, I digress, I am here to tell you that this email is probably going to change your life and also the success of Air New Zealand in the coming years and decades, if not centuries.
I have a proposal for you that you will almost undoubtedly be able to refuse.
Please don’t think I am crazy, as I definitely am not. And please make sure you read to the bottom of this email at least, despite the fact you are probably pretty busy with other things to do with Air New Zealand.
Before I continue I must congratulate you on getting Snoop Dogg on board in your last campaign as he is one of my favourite rappers and even though he is famous for smoking ‘The Chronic’ on a massively regular basis it is still great that you guys weren’t scared to put him in some AIRNZ marketing.

It was the confidence in Snoop Dogg that brought me to writing to you about my proposal. Which I like to call ‘Postcards From…’The Beauties’.

In a nutshell:
Recently I discovered after looking at my feet in a park that they were quite beautiful, my friends around me agreed and we all decided that I probably had the potential to be a world famous foot model. I immediately called my feet ‘The Beauties’ and have since given them individual names: Mike (the left foot) and Steph (the right foot), named after my mother and step-father who are obviously great people.

After taking some pretty historical snaps of ‘The Beauties’ in some pretty unbelievable locations
(please see here http://www.facebook.com/pages/Postcards-from-The-Beauties/218844414804139 )
I decided that these pictures should be turned into metaphorical and historical ‘Postcards’ taking in the most beautiful spots around the world. ‘The Beauties’ would obviously be the point of focus, but we could feature things of equal beauty in the background: The Eiffel Tower, The Taj Mahal, Angkor Wat, The Huntly Powerstation. The choices are endless.

Mike Tod, this is where you come in. While I have toyed with the idea of turning ‘The Beauties’ into a pair of NON-EXCLUSIVE foot models and touring the world with various companies, and attending all the fashion weeks and probably being the talk of catwalks the world over (London, Paris, Milan etc etc), I am prepared to change my approach.
To offer Postcards From… ‘The Beauties’ to you as something for your website or company which would not only include visual ‘Postcards’ but also a diary of the journey, nay, odyssey that ‘The Beauties’ go on around the world, changing the world of foot modeling. And travel writing.

In exchange, I would require all travel and accommodation for ‘The Beauties’ team to be covered by Air New Zealand allowing ‘The Beauties’ to reach their full potential in all the spots around the world that we collectively decide to photograph in. I (and ‘The Beauties’ ) would also need a salary (or freelance payment for each edition of ‘Postcards From…The Beauties’) to keep the project (and the artists) afloat.

For the full story of ‘The Beauties’ please go here to read it.
http://whateverorwhateveretc.blogspot.com/2011/07/postcards-from-beauties-part-1-dawning.html
Please ignore the part about magic mushrooms as that was added to give the story more drama. I don’t condone drug use by any means. Even though I probably didn’t need to make that disclaimer as you you guys used Snoop Dogg (the world’s biggest Chronic enthusiast) on your last campaign.

And for further writing go here
http://whateverorwhateveretc.blogspot.com/

Mike Tod, I hope you will consider my offer because I have a long list of airlines and corporations to go through before I stop, and somebody out there is going to see this proposal for what it really is… A chance to make history. I would like to give Air New Zealand the first chance however as I am obviously a true patriot (also, the fact you used Snoop Dogg).

I hope to hear from you soon,
Kind Regards
Reuben P. Bonner and … ‘The Beauties’

p.s Please don’t take this as a threat, but I have been sitting on an idea for over a decade now about starting a rival airline called Ear New Zealand with competitive rates and also a picture of an Ear made out of a Koru for the tails of all the planes and all marketing materials. I don’t think you, or the company, want to see that happen… The ball is in your court.

p.p.s Has anyone ever said your name sounds a lot like Mark Todd, the famous horse rider and owner of Charisma?
If not, you should take this as a compliment as I think he is a true national sports hero and probably a good guy by the look of him.

In related news, I am still waiting on a reply from Mike Tod (aka Mark Todd), but god willing it comes in the next few days.

POSTCARDS FROM THE BEAUTIES part 1. The Dawning of 'The Beauties'

2011-07-14T06:08:00.000-07:00

The Rise and Subsequent Demise (and the subsequent re-rise) of some of the greatest foot modeling talent ever to be seen on this god forsaken earth.

I realized something out of nowhere.
‘My feet really are quite beautiful,’ I said looking down at them with magic mushroom residue/particles flying around the synapses in my already dilapidated brain.
My three Australian compatriots looked up at me to try and determine whether I was in fact being serious, and as they saw my emotional involvement in the statement, they looked down to my feet to see if there was any truth in it.

As far as I was concerned, the slight tan my feet had, combined with the slight dusting of dirt from walking around the park barefoot, created a sheen that made them look ruggedly handsome, summery, and in a nutshell: ‘foot-modelly’.

Dord laughed as the reality hit her. She stared at them shocked with her hand to her mouth, unsure if it was the mushrooms playing a cruel trick and said:
‘They actually are… I mean, they actually are quite beautiful,’ she looked around at the others and laughed again with as much shock as we were all feeling at the realization.
‘I’m not gonna lie…They are pretty good,’ agreed Eli nodding his head.
‘Matt?’ I asked to my other friend.
‘Yeah…pretty good I reckon.’
It took another few minutes of staring at them from different angles, in different lights, and even taking photos to confirm.
I received a fourth and fifth opinion from my ex-flatmate Heather and her same sex life partner Vero, who had arrived to the park in the meantime.

While they were unconvinced and preceded to question the potential of my feet, I didn’t let it ‘harsh my mellow’ and thought to myself, ‘What the hell would they know about foot modeling’.

‘I’m calling them ‘The Beauties’’ I said.
Silence.
‘Ahh, You can’t name your feet The Beauties, especially when they look like that,’ said Heather.
‘Ahhhh, yes I can, because I just did,’
To affirm it, I spun around with cat like reflexes, rolled onto my back and slowly lifted my legs towards the sky and held ‘The Beauties’ in front of a narrow sunbeam that was shining through the glade we were sitting in.
As the light of the new morning shone upon them to reveal their beauty, it was as if the earth stood still for a second.
I could almost feel everyone gasp at how beautiful the moment was, and it felt like one of the most important events in my life so far, and even slightly like the turning point in a Harry Potter film.

It was powerful like lightning, and magnificent like a rainbow. It was the dawning of… ‘The Beauties’.

‘I think ‘The Beauties’ is pretty good’ said Eli.
‘Yeah, I think it’s good,’ agreed Matt.
Dord just laughed uncontrollably, nodding her head in agreement.

‘This is just like how you give yourself these ridiculous nicknames every couple of months. You should not be able to give yourself a nickname, and you should not be able to name your feet ‘The Beauties’ said Heather.
‘Ah, Heather did you not just see that beam of light reflecting off ‘The Beauties’ making it feel like we just shared one of the most special moments in history, if not, ever? It was a sign’ I said.
I was beginning to see ‘The Red Mist’ in regard to Heather’s lack of enthusiasm about the potential of ‘The Beauties’. It reminded of when we lived together when she would not admit that outer space was better than anything ever and also that Carl Sagan was the greatest scientist ever.

‘Hey, wait a second’ said Matt ‘what nicknames have you given yourself?’
‘The Red Mist’ subsided briefly:
‘I would say the more memorable ones are probably
a) Maniac
b) The Vigilante or The Vidge
c) Reubo-cop
d) The Baron
e) Boulders
f) Omelette
And also my name for when I am practicing magic: The Great Maniac Holstfield Wonders,’
‘Those are good,’ said Eli.
‘Yeah they are good,’ agreed Matt.
‘What about ‘The Healer’ or ‘Hannibal Lector’?’ said Heather.
‘Sam actually named me those, however I do think they both have potential,’ I replied distracted, as I was too busy looking down in awe at ‘The Beauties’.
‘Fantastic, they are just fantastic,’ I thought to myself.

My brain was going at 100 mph (which is ironic seeing I had grown up with the metric system). I knew ‘The Beauties’ needed to be doing something better than hanging around in a park connected to someone tripping on magic mushrooms.
The world needed to see them. Immediately. (STAT).
My brain kept ticking…

I had an idea, nay, a concept. I imagined a foot modeling campaign that traversed the globe with no rules or boundaries, an epic voyage in which to photograph ‘The Beauties’ in some of the most visually astounding spots on God’s green earth. The Eiffel Tower, The Colloseum, the 8 Wonders of the World, the Taj Mahal. The possibilities were endless, and the adventure would be a way to rediscover life itself for me, my faithful ally and friend Kenny Powers and of course… ‘The Beauties’.
I would call it ‘Postcards from…‘The Beauties’’, and IMHO (in my humble opinion) it would reshape the world of foot modeling, forever.

I would write to various corporations for sponsorship, to fund this Odyssey, and my first thought was to approach an airline which had the capability to fly us around and make sure ‘The Beauties’ made it to every photo shoot.
I knew the concept was flawless and also thought that at the end of it all I could take the best 12 ‘Postcards’ and make a calender entitled ‘Postcards From ‘The Beauties’… The Calender’

My initial thought would be to ask my friend Peter Magnum aka Tom Petty to accompany me as the photographer as he had
a) an eye for detail
b) a lust for life
c) a set of legs on him that we referred to as ‘The Mountain Blasters’. While they were extremely skinny, they had an unbridled power second to none, and I knew that some form of ‘Mountain Blasters’ photo series could work as an offshoot on ‘The Beauties’ franchise.

Things were looking up for The Great Maniac Holstfield Wonders and Kenny Powers The Great. (and the Mountain Blasters).

As a side note, here is a picture of The Mountain Blasters in full effect.

My train of thought was interrupted by Eli.
‘Hey, where the hell is Kenny Powers?’ he said.
‘He will be rooting around for truffles or down at the animal enclosure looking at the yak. Don’t worry about it.’ I told him.
Kenny Powers was big enough and ugly enough to look after his own affairs, and I had bigger fish to fry at this point anyway.

PLEASE SEE BELOW FOR AN INSIGHT INTO THE WORLD OF 'POSTCARDS FROM... 'THE BEAUTIES''
you can also become a fan on facebook
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Postcards-from-The-Beauties/218844414804139

Berlin 06/11 'The Beauties' overlooking their hometown with a renewed vigour knowing that the summer is on it's way.

'Springtime Forest' by ... 'The Beauties'...
The Beauties love nothing more than to be at one with nature. Here they are caught on a brief respite hiking in the forests of Northern Germany. As comfortable in the woods as they are on the catwalks of Paris and New York, 'The Beauties' show their diversity and continue to prove why they are the best feet in the business.

'Radar Base In The Afternoon' by ... 'The Beauties'.

'Portugese Paradise' by... 'The Beauties'
The tanning never stops for 'The Beauties' when summer rolls through. Here we see them overlooking the coast of Lagos, Portugal. Fitted with their new accessory: a locally made Slingshot, summer sun and of course... FUN! 'The Beauties' made a real mark on Portugal.

'Nightcap' by... 'The Beauties'
After a long day of foot modeling, you are most likely to find 'The Beauties' with their feet up, enjoying after work drinks by themselves, friends, or even with a 'significant other'. Sophisticated as ever, 'The Beauties' like to make sure they are rewarded with the right kind of tipple, in this case.. Jamesons.

A historical overview of the death of Michael Jackson and the subsequent hoax that Goldblum dies in ravine in New Zealand.

2011-06-01T14:47:00.000-07:00

(an excerpt from ) CHAPTER 2: MICHAEL JACKSON IS DEAD, GOLDBLUM LIVES. THE WORLD's FUCKED in JUNE 2009. (R.I. P Michael. I miss you and also the Jackson 5 (but mainly you)).
The only positive out of this crazy shithole of a world is that my pig Kenny Powers has finally arrived.

........................................................................ ........... ..................
JUNE 2009......
......
.. (PLEASE NOTE THIS IS AN EXCERPT< AND THAT IS PROBABLY WHY YOU WON'T KNOW WHAT I'M CRAPPING ON ABOUT AT THE START OF THIS WRITING)
.....................
..................................

To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really in any dire need of any antidotes in the immediate future (except DMSO which would come in very handy if there was Nuclear Fallout. DMSO is made out of sulphur or some crap like that and Is helpful against radiation. I would get some).

I decided to look up where to get DMSO on the Internet,
But I immediately rued the day I ever went back onto that computer.….
The virtual writing was on the virtual wall.
Michael Jackson was dead. (shamon : ( (sad face))
My childhood hero, and the first person who ever made me delusionally think that I would ever make it famous as a black pop singer - which therefore made me paint my face with shoe polish… well he was dead. Confirmed.
Michael Jackson was dead. Killed in Neverland by a murderer. Or something like that, the details weren’t important at the time. All that was important was that he was gone.

The only way I thought I could pay tribute was by putting on a single rubber glove from the dishes, and holding it in the air with my head down as I yelled:
‘HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’
I did that for about 30 seconds, then took off the glove, put it back in the sink and thought: ‘I wish that glove was silver and had lots of shining diamantes on it, as opposed to being green and yellow with bits of soap scum and vegetable peelings on it. And I wish it wasn't so moist inside, and i wish it didnt take almost ten minutes to get onto my hand properly.’.
Michael Jackson was dead. This was bullshit. This was the worst day of my life.

It had only been two weeks ago that I had realized the lyrics in Man In The Mirror were:
‘And no message could have been any clearer’ as opposed to ‘And no moustache could evade any clippers’.
It was like I was rediscovering MJ again only to have my heart smashed against jagged rocks as his death was announced. I could only imagine how Elizabeth Taylor was feeling. And of course Tito and all the other Jackson 5. And all the Jacksons actually.
It was the same burning sadness I held when I found out that Kurt Cobain died, but the silver lining on that day was that my brother was born so I got over Kurt pretty quickly with the excitement.

It dawned on me that the stress of preparing for his final live concerts may have driven him to suicide. But then I remembered he had been murdered or died of natural causes or something similar.
If only real life imitated art and he came back to life as a ghoul just like in the infamous video clip for Thriller.
Michael Jackson was dead.

I cried singing along to Don’t Stop Till You Get enough while eating a stale bread roll and almost choked on the crumbs. I wish I had choked, and died. To be with Michael.

But while all this was occurring, and amidst the sadness and confusion that I was feeling - and also the extra confusion because as I scrolled through the internet there was a sidenote that Farah Fawcett had also just died of anal cancer (unrelated to Michael Jackson’s death) (???? Is anal cancer new????).

But through all this grief came a shining unicorn of hope and light…
The silver lining to this Michael-Jackson’s-dead-body shaped cloud…
Jeff Goldblum

AKA my worst actor

AKA the world’s tallest and most annoying Jewish American celebrity

AKA Goldblum

…was dead.
Not only was he dead, but it was also rumoured that he had fallen to his death in my home country New Zealand while acting. My immediate thought was that someone from the crew had pushed him to his rocky demise because his acting had probably been so annoying on set that they couldn’t help themselves.
My second thought was that this may have been a sign from god that things were ‘on the up’ for me and my pig’s destiny. And a way to say to the world ‘sorry, for taking MJ. Take this death of Goldblum as a peace offering, and a statement so you know everything will be ok,’
The New Zealand connection also made it personal, like god had done this just for me (and my pig: due to arrive in Berlin in 12 days).
My third thought was that Goldblum would have said some kind of annoying half-insightful comment as he fell down the ravine like ‘and so it was ordained. My body is only a vessel and my soul will continuuuuuuuuuue’
I am only assuming that it was a ravine, as falling down them usually means certain death.
If I on the other hand was to fall down a ravine, I would make sure I yelled out something extremely classic like
‘I regret nothiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing’. Like the guy who jumps off the bridge in the Simpsons. Or
‘Anyone got any spare moneyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?’
But back to the topic at hand.
Goldblum.

Why did he haunt me so? In my dreams and in waking life it seemed he was always there to say something like, well, something condescending, in a slow American Jewish groan.
And now it was I who had the upper hand, as I was alive and about to find fame and fortune, while he was dead in New Zealand, home of my forebears, and the location of the Goldblum Must Retire/Die Fan headquarters (which I had created in 2005 in the garage of my flat). Ironic? Yes, I would say it was reasonably ironic, especially if there was a Hollywood movie made about my quest for the Guinness World Record for highest jump by a pig.
Goldblum.

His mangled body was probably being rescued at this very moment by the Westpac Helicopter, only to be put into a grim black bodybag before being shipped back to the United States coated in an American flag.

Or would it be the star of David? And would he be returned to Israel?
Either way, his acting would be celebrated, his life would be celebrated, but I would not applaud. Although I would admit that he was good in The Fly I would not shed a tear for Goldblum. Not a single tear. Not like I was doing for Michael Jackson, the greatest pop star in the world.

I applauded Goldblum for not dying withered in a bed somewhere with AIDS or Ebola, but going out doing what he loved:
Aka being the most annoying actor on the planet, if not the universe.

Although he would make my life unhappier whenever he graced the silver screen, I suppose there was some kind of mutual respect between us.
I suppose you could say it was very similar to the antagonism that occurred between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader. How the two feared each other but hated each other but also loved each other. Except I didn't love Goldblum really.
Although the few differences between Goldblum and I’s relationship, and Skywalker and Vader’s relationship are as follows.
a) Goldblum was not my father
b) I did not have a mechanical hand like Skywalker
c) I did not love Goldblum (as previously stated)
d) Darth Vader’s acting was very very good. Goldblum’s was not.
e) Goldblum’s voice was more annoying than Darth Vader’s even though Darth Vader had a strange respiratory breathing apparatus that made his voice sound like a vacuum cleaner
f) At the time of his death Goldblum possibly didn’t actually know who I was, and therefore was probably not aware that we were enemies. But I would change that in the afterlife (if he is still acting, if not, I will let bygones be bygones)

This was the only possible thing that could have made me feel better about the death of Michael Jackon, and the exact same amount of indifference towards the death of Farrah Fawcett. That really had made the day confusing.

NOTE: ABORT ALL FEELINGS IMMEDIATELY AND RESORT TO EVEN WORSE DEPRESSION THAN BEFORE.
MICHAEL JACKSON IS CONFIRMED DEAD.
THE GOLDBLUM DEATH WAS A HOAX. I REPEAT.
THE GOLDBLUM DEATH WAS A HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE PRANK, A FALSE, TERRIBLE JOKE THAT IS OBVIOUSLY NOT FUNNY. BUT HE IS STILL, VERY MUCH ALIVE.
(I am not actually sure if the whole Farrah Fawcett having anal cancer and is dead or not is a hoax).

This is the worst day ever. Confirmed. Goldblum lives. And is no doubt, not retired from acting.

GOLDBLUM (a haiku about loss, and fake deaths)
What A Filthy Hoax
Your death had helped dull the pain
Michael is still dead

FAMOUS JEWS AND KEVIN COSTNER LOOKALIKES

2011-05-31T04:04:00.000-07:00

I think it would be nice if I could go one day without seeing someone who looks exactly like Kevin Costner.
I am pretty sure that his genetic makeup must be one of the most common in the world, or at least in Berlin, Germany.
It is not the worst thing in the world to happen, but I am basically sick of thinking the thought ‘great, there is another Kevin Costner lookalike,’ on such a regular basis.

Admittedly it is a real treat when I see my FAVOURITE Kevin Costner lookalike, who actually half looks like Kiefer Sutherland as well and is always smoking or looking arty/broody.
I have taken to calling him Kiefin Costerland behind his back and think him to be either a director, or a photographer, or just unemployed. Mainly because I always see him just sitting around at cafes, and because his broodiness gives him some kind of look that says ‘maybe I should be capturing this moment on film, whether it be still images or moving pictures’.
He also has a dog, which makes me think he is not unemployed as it looks healthy as opposed to malnourished.
Once I was sitting opposite him in a café and wrote a poem about him, and I am not really prone to poetry as it is a bit faggy.

Kief cost (my favourite Kevin Costner lookalike in this town)
Imagine if Kevin Costner had been attacked by a wolf and killed halfway through the filming of Dances with Wolves… would you have been there to step in?....
It would have meant you needed to act, and also direct.
And have sex with the actress who played your love interest and looked like she came from a big pile of rubbish.
I think you have it in you….
Imagine if you were at a party and Donald Sutherland was so wasted or got maced that his vision was blurry and he thought you were his son and he asked you to drive him home… would you have been there to step in?...
I think your heart is that big.
Imagine if Kevin Costner and Keifer Sutherland had both impregnated a lady at the same time… would you have been the result?
They would have had to have done it pretty young though as you look about 40.

I am basically sick of writing about anything to do with Kevin Costner and/or Kiefer Sutherland now. So I feel like it is time for a topic change.

After a very in depth discussion with my Israeli drummer about how many famous Jews there are in the world, I decided to do some research and have come to the following conclusions.
a) There are certainly more Jewish celebrities than there are from New Zealand
b) Some of the Jewish babes are the hottest babes in the world ie Natalie Portman (schwing) and Selma Blair and Kate Hudson. And Scarlett Johansen.

I have therefore decided to make a list called ‘My Top 50 Jews, by MANIAC HOLST’.
Although I don’t plan to rush into it and come out with some ridiculously unresearched list I will still state now that my drummer is definitely at the top of the list even though he is not as famous as some of them. He is closely followed by Larry David, my favourite celebrity Jew.
For anyone who thinks they will be able to predict who will be on my list, I wouldn’t count your chickens before they hatch.
Especially don’t think I will be adding Woody Allen or any of the members from the band Kiss or Adam Sandler, because they would not be in the top 50 jews in my book.
Woody Allen would maybe be in my list of 50 worst Jews, or at least 50 most sniveling-slash-annoying Jews.
And also he would probably be on my list of 50 People To Have Gotten With Their Step Daughter and Pretended It Was Totally Normal.
Anyway, it is a work in progress, so I am not going to go on about it all day. but if I were you, i would be wishing me 'Masal Tov'.

Soooooooooooo.....

I'm not sure if theft has become more public lately, but, yesterday standing at the Barcelona airport in one of the most annoying lines I have ever been in (a curved line where you couldn’t see the end, also full of annoying people who keep looking around), a young girl on a sports trip cut in front of me and stole a chocolate donut out of the self serve cabinet.
it was so horribly blatant to everyone around, although I was not thinking that at the time as I was too busy thinking how it looked totally delicious.

It awoke several emotions in me as she scuttled back out of the line, not really caring that she stood on my foot as she passed (idiot).
a) jealousy. Why didn’t I have that donut? Why hadn’t I thought to steal one?
b) respect. She had stolen the donut from a blind spot in the line, where no staff would have seen it and she had done it with confidence. Maybe she was a seasoned thief.
c) annoyance. Not only did she stand on my toe, she pushed past with a bit too much aggression and it made me feel like tripping her up or at least telling on her. But I didn’t because I CBB (couldn’t be bothered)

Either way that damn donut looked good, although I refrained from buying one as I only had enough cash for a juice which I saw as more important at the time as I was basically boiling alive and sweating like never before.

Getting from Barcelona back to Berlin seemed to take forever due to a series of unfortunate events and annoying people coming into my path. After boarding the U7 underground train from Schonefeld airport, just when I thought I was almost ‘home free’, the doors opened and there walking towards me to squeeze down in the seat beside me was The Hot Massive Breather. I had seen him on the trains before, but never had the pleasure of him sitting right beside me. I had definitely heard him breathe, as you are guaranteed to hear it from at least ten metres away through a snow storm. But the deluxe encounter I was about to get really was a bonus.
The warmth of his body eminating through his clothes onto me gave me the same uncomfortable feeling as you would get from putting your hand into a pile of hot compost, aka the impulsion to dry retch.

The volume of his breathing was at approximately 100 decibels.
If you are not aware how loud that is, other things which are approximately 100 decibels are
a) a passing truck
b) a home lawn mower
c) a car horn at five metres
d) a wood saw
e) a boiler factory
And of course lots of other loud crap. Suffice to say, that The Hot Massive Breather is NOT the greatest person to sit next too on the train, especially when he is reading a magazine, as when he starts concentrating his breathing moves up to around 110 decibels and you can add another 10 decibels to that due to the fact he turns the pages so forcefully.
120 decibels?
a) a riveter
b) a wood chipper
c) thunder
d) a diesel engine room
e) a fireworks display
He is officially my worst person to sit next to on the Berlin underground service. That is confirmed.
I muttered ‘good riddance’ as I left the train and his sweaty, noisy half-embrace and thought about how much I wanted to get home and make a freshly squeezed orange juice or a raspberry smoothie, as these are now part of my daily regime.
Please note this daily regime also includes:
a) looking out the window,
b) going on the internet,
c) waiting for June 18th (the opening of the Neukolln Pools),
d) walking around
e) going to the Linsensuppe (lentil soup) shop to see if my main Berlin enemy The Linsensuppe Ferret has returned from holiday, or if he really is dead as I suspected. (you can read more about that idiot here): http://whateverorwhateveretc.blogspot.com/2010/09/jupiter-mars-blue-whales-fourth.html

Today’s daily routine included waking up from having ANOTHER dream that I had a black child, with a white lady. In the dream I can never work out if we adopted the child or if she cheated on me. But it is a good way to start the day I suppose.

North to south and other various directions (like Northeast etc.)

2011-04-04T16:57:00.000-07:00

I have to say I was highly disappointed when I boarded the Interislander ferry this morning to find that they STILL haven’t built a goddamn KFC family restaurant onboard. One would think that after years of letters of complaint from myself (and I’m sure 100s of other people around the country, if not the world) that they would maybe act on what the public wants for once in their life.
For me, nothing sums up traveling from the North Island to the South Island like a bucket of chicken, and or a bit of potato and gravy, but NOT the coleslaw as it pretty much tastes like the end of the world mixed in with some rotty old yak/sloth milk.
At least the other crap you can buy on board is at very competitive prices. Eg. A ham and butter sandwich for around 8 dollars. And so on and so forth.
In case you can’t tell, I am currently feeling reasonably nonplussed about the Interislander ferry at this current moment, but I’m sure things are on the up.

There has always been a love-hate relationship with me and this heaving water beast since my first journey south at the age of 7 with my family and Ross Campbell. After eating some form of Raspberry popsicle and then being thrown around by the lurching waves, my only choice was to hurl bright red vomit throughout
a) the boys toilets
b) the girls toilets
c) the reclining lounge
d) other areas of the interislander and it’s surrounds

It has been an early start to the day yet again. Awaking at 5:40am after having another dream that I had to fight a Fedex delivery man for my passport. Even though halfway though our battle he deemed it acceptable to magically transform into a minotaur carrying an enormous bomby-knocker, I still was skillful enough to defeat him with my crossbow and superior cunning.
It seems ridiculous that a minotaur would have my passport for any reason, but I suppose anything is possible in this crazy world of ours. Just look at examples like the waterskiing chipmunk in the film Anchorman, and the woman who grew several horns out of her head in my previous writings, to show you that we live in a universe full of surprises.

that is a picture of a minotaur with a sweet body and also, coincidentally, a bomby knocker

I have been told never to talk about
a) your dreams
b) your children
c) your pets
Because it is obviously totally boring for anyone except you, but I thought defeating a minotaur was a worthy exception, and also if anyone ever tried to tell me to shut my trap about my pet pig Kenny Powers (aka Kenny Powers The Great) I would probably ‘X’ them from my life anyway as they are obviously slightly moronic for not realizing that he is the greatest pig to ever walk the face of the earth.
In related news, he seems to have taken a real liking to 2Pac, as the response I get from him when I put it on the stereo is only ever positive.
Maybe for his first birthday I will pay for him to get ‘Thug Life’ tattooed on his stomach the same way 2Pac had.

I guess it will depend on how much money I have at the time as tattooes don’t always come cheap.
As I am currently away touring with my band it has been a tough time for Kenny Powers’ and I’s relationship as I have not really been able to put in any quality time. Thank god The Morning Stomper is happy to just have him around the house minding his own P’s and Q’s.
Although I have warned her to keep an eye on my brother as he is no doubt hatching some form of prank to play on KPTG (Kenny Powers The Great), as he feels that his cat Miffy does not deem it appropriate to have another animal living at our house.
Just in case you were confused, Miffy is a male cat despite the fact he has the most feminine feline name in the Southern Hemisphere.

Being on tour for an elongated period of time is like some form of quest where you are never allowed to go home and relax. I suppose essentially we are a little bit like the 9 travellers from Lord Of The Rings, although our quest is much less important to the good of the world around us.

The main thing I miss when I am not sitting round at home is little luxuries like watching a cooking channel.
Especially the one which featured some kind of Masterchef final completely in French, where the winner was an exceptional young Frenchman called Grogory who had one full arm and one arm that was missing a hand and ironically, looked very similar to a freshly baked French Stick (or in France, a ‘baguette’). He was truly inspiring, and even though I couldn’t understand any of the dialogue, (except for ‘champignon’ which means mushroom) I knew from his ‘can do’ attitude towards cooking and preparation he was going to go all the way to the top, one-armed or not.

The main thing about Grogory that impressed me was his highly effective technique for cutting vegetables, which involved his good handing holding the blade for cutting off the pieces of the chosen vegetable, and his baguette was used to slowly slide the vegetable closer to the blade as it was getting cut.
The baguette really did not seem to hinder Grogory’s cooking prowess whatsoever. After a while I forgot he was even at a disadvantage, in fact, I doubt he even saw it that way as his Baguette really was like a secret weapon.

Anyway, I digress, the main point of my story is that life is funny, and last night that was confirmed when I read some graffiti on the wall of the girls toilet which said:
‘Please refrain from vomiting here… Thanks! P.s Listen To Black Sabbath’
My first thought was
‘Good graffiti’
My second thought was
‘I already listen to Black Sabbath’

In other news, I was recently in Takaka, a village in the South Island’s beautiful Golden Bay area, and I purchased a very adult straw hat with a black sash around it.
It is very comfortable and I would say makes me look slightly debonair, however Sam has started calling me Lector because I remind him of Hannibal Lector, the evil murdering genius from the film Silence Of The Lambs.
He has taken to saying things like:
‘You look very Lector-ey this morning,’
He also suggested that when the woman from Sailz café in Lake Hawea brought me overripe banana with my muesli that she best have thought that move over in case I skinned her alive in 30 seconds.

Christmas. The day I most wish for the Reaper to reap me.

2011-03-15T03:02:00.000-07:00

I now have a renewed hatred for Christmas and also shopping malls, and of course Jeff Goldblum, Phil Collins, and Rick Moranis (as previously stated).

I vow that the Christmas just passed will be the last that I ever purchase gifts for loved ones, or unloved ones, from a shopping mall***** (see note below)
Consider this my confirmation.
I’m sure the managers of shopping malls across the country are quivering with fear that I will take my business elsewhere seeing I spend such a huge amount of money, but they will just have to get stuffed for now, and rely on the millions of other Christmas shoppers.

I am thinking of boycotting Christmas gifts altogether anyway as my financial position is to the point of overstrain when I have to buy more than one gift at a time, and on the flipside the gifts I tend to receive are always stupid or fattening eg. a rank t-shirt with ‘Aotearoa’ written on it, a cheap snorkel, or disgusting, yet eatable, chocolates.
So I would prefer to neither be a Christmas receiver, nor giver. I think that is fair.
I am aware it sounds very grinch like, but I honestly don’t give a flying crap as Christmas tends to be totally boring anyway because everyone falls asleep on the couches around one second after eating lunch and there is never anywhere to sit. Unless you feel liked getting breathed all over. Which 9 times out of 10 , I don’t.
It is about this time that I try and turn the TV on to watch a video but usually my mother AKA The Morning Stomper will briefly awaken with one eye open like a sleeping dragon guarding a pot of gold to mutter:
‘We don’t need that on on Christmas day, we’re here to be together as a family. Not to watch TV. Be social.’
‘TV is social,’ I would reply ‘it brings everyone together to watch the same thing. Besides, who gives a crap, everyone is asleep’
‘Well read a book,’
‘Reading is the ultimate in antisocial behaviour, and goes against your argument.’ At this point I will usually spin on my heel, leave the room and head out to my Aunt Raechal’s pool and do dives, bombs or play Marco Polo with the kid cousins. Although this gets depressing as they are usually talking about what great gifts they got for Christmas. Eg some skis, a gaming console or some kind of remote control flying thing which I will never be able to work.

I however on this 30th Christmas of mine received none other than…
A first aid kit. With regards from The Morning Stomper, it was complete with gloves, antiseptic cleansing wipes, scissors, an instant ice pack and a thermometer that I believe to be specially designed for someone’s butt, this will go down as the present I will be most overwhelmed by in my life thus far.

I have officially never heard of anyone receiving a First Aid Kit for Christmas before. Especially as their main present. I was slightly cheered by the fact that my 16 year old brother also got one and was unwrapping it the same time as me on Christmas morning.
‘What the fuck is this?’ he said bewildered.

‘I got one too, I thought it was a toilet bag at first’ I replied.
He looked at me with confusion in his eye as to why he as a 16 year old child would be receiving this gift for his Christmas present.
‘Does yours have a shot of adrenaline in a hypodermic needle?’ I asked.
‘NO! Does yours??’ he replied, thinking that there may have been a silver lining to this Christmas cloud.
‘No. If it did, it would have immediately stuck it in my neck to celebrate this amazing, amazing gift.’
We sat on our grandparents couch for a couple of minutes in silence before I asked him:
‘Can I give you stitches?’
‘No,’ he replied. Slightly disappointed, but unsurprised at his reply I walked off with my First Aid Kit to put it somewhere safe to make sure it didn’t get stolen. Although part of me felt that it was unlikely, a big part of me.

I shouldn’t complain as I was also given a portion of money, which I vow to spend on drugs and/or something from an Info-mercial for my pig Kenny Powers.

Although some things about Christmas are horrible, horrific, painful and rank,

there are some positives.
I am a big fan of hanging around my weird family and realizing it is not only me who is strange. But I am really an offshoot of a much bigger, more powerful machine of weird and wonderful. And, knowing that I, amongst all these incredible humans, am am surrounded by some of L.T.W’s (Life’s True Weirds). They seem very interested in my life which is the main thing, as I know they are not pretending to be. For example:

Uncle Mark: “Hows America Reub?”
Me: I am based in Berlin
Uncle Mark: “Great!”

And
Cousin Eric: “Where’s your pig?”
Me: “Up your butt, round the corner”
Cousin Eric: “all the way to California?”
Me: “I haven’t heard that before, that’s good. My pig Kenny powers, aka Kenny Powers The Great is at a farm stay for two weeks.”

It is also a great time of year to ring up the Intercity bus company, as it is very busy period for them therefore a huge waiting time before an operater answers; and the hold music is just fantastic. Sublime in fact. When they do answer, you can just say ‘Sorry, wrong number’ and hang up, then just press redial. I highly recommend this unique experience.
I spent around 25 minutes on it today and was really ‘getting in to the groove’ before some jerk answered.

It is also a valid time to send out a group text message to all your friends, allies and enemies.
I kept mine to the point with:
‘Merry Christmas, Kind regards, Maniac’
and although I got some replies like
‘Who the hell is this?’ (To which I replied ‘Maniac. PS. Merry Christmas!’)
and
‘Is this a group text?’ (To which I replied ‘Correct!’)
and
‘Who are you calling a maniac’ (To which I replied ‘Who is this? Have new phone, lost lots of numbers, kind regards Maniac’)
and
‘I haven’t heard from you all year. But thanks for the Xmas group text.’
(To which I replied ‘Tis the season!!!!!!!’)
and
‘Who is Maniac?’ (To which I couldn’t be bothered replying as I felt I was defeating the purpose of the whole group text idea)

I felt it was a good way to touch base with some people I have not contacted in a while.
I also don’t see what everyone’s problem is with group texts. Yes they are impersonal HOWEVER sometimes it is just too annoying to write to a bunch of people and also, it is very handy if you are short on time.
Eg. When you are driving or obviously, when Armageddon comes (god willing it is in our lifetime).

On that fateful day nobody is going to have a whole lot of time to text everyone seperately in their phonebook to say goodbye. And I’m sure people will appreciate the sentiment if they receive something along the lines of:
‘See you in hell guys! Kind Regards,Maniac. p.s How crazy is it that someone predicted this thousands of years ago?! Incredible!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’
(I would purposely use up all the spare letters left in the text on exclamation marks, as it would have some sort of ‘closure’ and I suppose ‘value for money’ if that makes sense.)

Even if it isn’t totally personalized, this is an efficient way to say, farewell.

*****Hatred Of Shopping Malls: (a sidenote)
The reason why I hate shopping malls so much is because I have an uncanny knack of making eye contact with pregnant women just after I have looked at their obviously pregnant stomachs. It is a cross I know I must bear, but the situation is still unfortunate nonetheless. Especially since I tend to screw my face up slightly if there is any midriff or BB (belly button) showing, which tends to happen a lot.
I also feel guilty somehow that they are pregnant and on top of that the Commodore’s/ Lionel Richie song ‘Three Times A Lady’ always goes off like an alarm bell in my brain. Sometimes I find myself humming it and pulling Lionel Richie faces, which is not really the best idea if the pregnant woman in question is within earshot.
As I am wanting to get in and get out of those hated shopping malls, the last thing I need on my mind to confuse and disorientate me is an R& B legend like Lionel Ritchie (aka Lionel Ritchie, Your Whole Style’s Bitchy).

On top of this, I also find pregnant women look very suspiciously at everyone else in the shopping mall who are NOT pregnant, which I find very rude and especially annoying around Christmas. This makes me want to go over to them and steal their shopping and hastily leave the premises.
Only because I know I could outrun them and would teach them a lesson for looking so suspiciously at good, decent, un-pregnant hard-working people, NOT because I want to keep any of their items they have purchased,
which would most likely be:
a) Body Butter
b) Biscuits
c) A celebrity maternity book by some annoying woman with a 90s haircut like Jude Dobson, or that other annoying chef woman who looks like a bread roll. Her name escapes me. But she is very bread roll like, I can confirm that.

These are some valid reasons to avoid shopping malls, which you should do at all costs unless you are going to the movies and can just get in through the top entrance. It is very rare to see pregnant people at the movies anyway, as they are usually a bit too fat to sit in the seats comfortably, and are probably paranoid that their water could break at any second.

Further chronicles from the days of SB2k (Slutbeast 2000, one of life's true idiots)

2011-02-09T18:27:00.000-08:00

please see the post below this one for a full rundown on why Slutbeast 2000 is such a jerk. and her back history in annoying people 24/7.

CLEAN UP (from a journal dated around June/july/august 2009 ish)

It was a testing day today. Very very testing. After being out last night at Berlin's infamous fetish venue the Kit Kat Club until 10:48am and gathering some precious sleep until 4pm, it was time to clean up and move out of our apartment before leaving to London the next day. We seperated the jobs between us all, including Slutbeast 2000 who decided she would be in charge of 'windowsills and miscellaneous' which I naturally thought to be a crock as I knew that she was just trying to be lazy.
Cleaning the windowsills usually takes about 4-5 minutes for the whole house and miscellaneous is just another way of saying 'hardly any of the hard stuff'. I told her that cleaning Kenny Power's area came under miscellaneous and she said that it would be a 'cold day in hell' before she even went near to 'that pig's disgusting little sty.'

I thought to myself that it was ironic that she mentioned hell because living with her was like hell on earth and also a coincidence because I sometimes referred to her behind her back as a 'Hound of Satan whose kennel was seated at the very side of the Devil himself'.

Anyway, I had only suggested she clean Kenny Power's area to wind her up as I would not in a million years let her cursed hands near my pig or any of his belongings in case she infected it with evil. Kenny Powers the pig would be mortified also if she came within a five metre radius of him, as I know he hates her probably more than I do. To keep him occupied while we were cleaning I downloaded the Jane Fonda video workout onto my computer and left it running, so he was quite content to sit there watching it while he ate his nutri grains and snuffled around.

schwing!

I was walking around in a daze and am pretty sure I was still drunk and high from some pretty strong LSD I had taken at the Kit Kat Club, so any kind of cleaning was twice as hard as usual. However to pass the time as I wiped down the kitchen surfaces I started up a song called 'I Love Cleaning' and sung it loud, long and untunefully.
'I Lo-Lo-Lo-Lo-LO LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE CLEANING. I Love It. I actually LO-HUH-UH-UH-HOVE IT.'
After a couple of minutes of singing this repeatedly I heard from Slutbeast's room 'Shut UP would you?. God you are a COCK'
I was in a pretty weird mood and her outburst inspired me to get the last banana from the kitchen, sneak up quietly and squash it against her door before putting it on the door handle.

I then went into my room and wrote a note which I slipped under her door.
'Dear Helen (AKA Slutbeast 2000), I have noticed that there is quite a bit of banana smeared against the outside of your door. I would hate for us to lose any of our deposit for not having cleaned up enough so I have tried to figure out whose job this would fall under. As I am doing kitchen, Sam is doing bathroom, Rob is doing vacuuming and mopping and Felix is doing rubbish and oven, we have unanimously decided that smeared banana comes under 'miscellaneous'. Good luck with the clean!
Kind regards
Reuben P. Bonner

To put the icing on the cake I drew a little picture of her holding a cloth and a banana and pulling the thumbs up sign. I also drew a couple of cute little devil horns popping out of her head and a barbed tail. i was pretty happy with the note and was looking forward to her reaction. Good old Slutbeast 2000, she was a good sport.

The Legend Of Slutbeast 2000, a historical lesson in how to spot an idiot.

2011-02-09T18:02:00.000-08:00

A Diary Entry from JUNE 2009

I am pretty annoyed with our new flatmate Helen, AKA 'Slutbeast 2000' at the moment. There are a quite a few things that annoy me about her and I constantly curse our combined decision to even let her move in to our 'boys and pigs only' apartment. The balance of the universe seems to have been totally thrown out of kilter since she came into our lives and I have even considered putting her into my Top 5 kill list, or at least putting some form of curse on her, which will be easy seeing I have access to thousands of bits of her hair she leaves lying around everywhere.
I like to refer to it as 'Gollum Straw', as I feel her hair looks like a mixture between straw and also Gollum's hair from Lord Of The Rings.

The Gollum Straw would be more than suitable to fashion a voodoo doll with if I did decide to put a curse on her and coincidentally I am getting much better at curses since my friend Jade sent me a wikipedia link on how best to do it. Anyway, I digress, here are a list of the most obvious things about Slutbeast 2000 that totally annoy me.

a) Constantly drinking my juice supply without replacing it, even my backup juice reserve which is kept in my room has been tampered with. DEATH
b) When she is locked out of the house, refusing to let us drop the keys out the window to her, but insisting on one of us coming down the stairs to let her in
c) bringing home various guys for sexathon and then proceeding to make disgusting and deep sex noises right up against my wall. And then those guys walking round our house the next morning doing things like drinking straight from our milk carton, walking around the house in a bathmat, and/or asking to borrow my laptop to check emails
d) her constant and unfounded finger pointing at Kenny Powers the pig for anything that seems to go wrong around the flat or missing from her room.

Slutbeast 2000, one of life's true jerks.

Admittedly her lipstick has gone missing after I dressed KP up as Marilyn Munroe for a photo shoot for a classic birthday card.
I had used SB2K's lipstick, a blond wig I found on the road, a white dress I made from one of Slutbeast 2000's table cloths, and also two pairs of her high heels. I also used the fan from her room too to get the effect of the dress blowing up around KP's legs to imitate the iconic Marilyn Munroe pic where she is standing over a heat grate.

I take full credit for the loss of the lipstick and will replace it, but even Slutbeast Two Thou would admit if she actually took the time to look at the photos we took, that it was totally worth it. Kenny Powers looks great and I am pretty sure that my Poppa will really like the card even though it isn't his birthday.

Slutbeast 2000 has only been living us with for one month but already it feels like several lifetimes. My conversations with her have become more and more tense even to the point of rudeness. I especially hate being cornered by her in the kitchen, where she tends to spent a lot of time looking in the fridge for stuff that isnt hers. Yesterday's conversation probably took the prize for most offensive and obnoxious I had been to her so far, but I assume if she wasn't such a total bitch all the time then I would make more of an effort to be pleasant.
'Morning,'
'Hi.' I replied looking down at my cornflakes.
'Sleep well?' she said looking in the fridge.
'Not really. Maybe you could try having sex to a guy up against the other wall tonight as opposed to the one right by my head?'
'Oh. Sorry. Timo is an old friend, we were catching up on old times'
'He is the Spanish bartender from the Fat Corner. How can he possibly be an old friend of yours if you have just got to Europe a month ago and have lived in South Africa for the whole of your life?'
'It's actually really none of your business. And by the way your pig helped himself to my dark chocolate, so if you wouldn't mind replacing it?'
'Ah my pig has a name, it's Kenny Powers and he doesn't like dark chocolate, so yes, I would mind replacing it. But while we are on the topic, you haven't per chance been in my room drinking the juice on my desk have you? It seems to have been opened and half finished?'
'I don't know what you are talking about. You probably had it when you were drunk, which could have been any night this week.'
'I wasn't drunk last night actually, I was smoking hash with Bobby Tones and talking about how much we regret you moving in here. So how about you shut it?'
'You are a totally rude fuck did you know that?'
'Yes. I did know that. But thank you for confirming. Were you aware that you are a total Slutbeast 2000 and your fingers look almost identical to uncooked pork sausages?'
She was halfway through a bite of a cold sausage at the time so as far as timing was concerned I had pretty much nailed it. Her face went purple with anger as she stormed out of the room, slammed the door and proceeded to talk loudly on her internet chat to a friend from 'J-Berg' about how much of a prick I was with no life outside of looking out the window and obsessing over a pig.

I thanked god above that Kenny Powers was out of the house in the garden practising a few jumps and did not hear her insults about his hygiene and the accusations towards him about the missing food and clothing accessories. It was then I decided that effective immedietly Slutbeast 2000 was the new number one on my Top 5 Kill List, with a bullet.
I then proceeded to collect some of her Gollum Straw from the bathroom sink as tonight I would be making a voodoo doll and working on my best curse yet, Slutbeast 2000 would rue the day she ever made false accusations about Kenny Powers, essentially the friendliest pig in the Northern Hemisphere.
Not only because he was currently my best friend in the world but because I have been hugely empathetic with people who are falsely accused since
a) I watched In The Name of the Father based on Gerry Conlon and the Guildford Four.

'I'm going out the front door with Gerry!'

And
b) because when I was four years old my friends from across the street told me I was not allowed to come and play at their house anymore because someone had scratched the word 'Bum' into their gold door knocker at the front door, and I was their mother's main suspect. I was pretty mad at the lady at this time as their house was a virtual toy wonderland with pretty much every single Transformer and He Man figurine in the world.

'that's what i'm talking about'

But I was nowhere as mad as her as I currently was at Slutbeast 2000.Who in my opinion was the world's biggest idiot. I grabbed Lix's camera and kicked her door open to take a photo of her, she turned from her computer wearing her ridiculous Janet Jackson Skype headset and pulled the fingers at me. I looked at the photo and thought 'what a total idiot'. This was going straight into my 'For Sticking On My Dartboard When I Get one' folder.

Goodbye Cruel World (also, return to the Stomper's Den (again))

2010-12-14T01:11:00.000-08:00

I will have you know that this may be the last time I write for a very, very long time. If ever. I have made this decision because as of a few weeks ago, I have begun to focus all my energies into the study of Magic. Some people may yell out ‘thank the lord these ramblings will cease’, I immediately put a curse on you heathens and vow to use magic in the future to somehow destroy you.

Here is a picture of me in the foreground creating destruction for you aforementioned jerks. i have in this depiction used magic to round you all up in the one place and then launched an explosion in the general vicinity.

Although I have planned to destroy the non-believers, I know on the other hand there will be a lot of people out there in the world who will be quite relieved that I have now found my true calling. I would not be surprised if between 30 and 40 people exclaim ‘Yes, magic. That is probably what he is destined for I suppose.’ Or something there or thereabouts.

While I am mainly learning Magic off the internet at the moment, I plan to extend my knowledge by
a) reading books in regard to magic
b) buying posters of my favourite wizards to hang up around the house (Gandalf, Pug AKA Milamber, Merlin and last but not least Catweazle)
c) trying to figure out the difference between Ceremonial Magic, Illusionist Magic, Paranormal Magic, Religious Magic and Magick, with an extra ‘K’. Then deciding on which branch of magic I would mainly like to focus on as I slowly become a magician of note (or potentially a sorceror or Warlock).
d) Finding someone who can teach me about witchcraft and the occult
e) Referring to myself as The Great Maniac Holstfield Wonders and wearing a cape at least 90 per cent of the time.

There is a fair bit to get through, but seeing I am back in New Zealand and I have no car and am bored as I have ever been, I have a lot of time on my hands to make this dream a reality. I have already learnt around 5 magic tricks and have ordered the ‘Art Of Levitation’ DVD on my mother’s credit card as an early 30th birthday present.

Although she does not really approve of my practicing magic or constant cape wearing she can hardly deny me this request on such a milestone of a birthday.
As previously mentioned, she is widely known as the Morning Stomper due to her 6am passages up and down the hallway with a ferocity and volume that can strike fear into the hearts of many men. Because of her reputation for hallway gusto and speed, combined with her renowned interrogation techniques (which we think she may have learnt from infamous Nazi interrogater Hanns Scharff), many would think it an unwise idea to ever question her authority whilst living under her roof. But I, like my 16 year old brother (who is most certainly the favourite child), have the courage of a lion. And sometimes of late, questions have had to be asked.

‘Where the heck are all the towels in this god forsaken hellhole?’ I asked one morning yelling naked from a towel-less bathroom (post-shower, pre-teeth brush).
‘Your brother needs them for his running competition tomorrow so I have packed them into the car so there is no chance of him being without,’ the Stomper replied whipping down the hallway at approx 80km/h leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.
‘Thanks for NOTHING! What will I dry myself with?’
'Why don't you use your bear and wolf towel to dry yourself?' yelled my brother from the lounge. It was obvious he was really getting into the swing of school holidays by simultaneously drinking chocolate milk, playing X-Box and sitting around in his undies at midday.
‘Because A) its a cape, not a towel you maniac! And B) I am not a big fan of taking it off my custom made cape hooks unless it is for a totally valid reason.' I replied knowing he would appreciate my reasoning.
‘Don’t call your brother a maniac. Here’s a bathmat.’ Said the Stomper as she tore past again, handing me a peach hand towel which she had collected at some point in the morning on one of her many, many laps between the kitchen and the laundry cupboard.

I knew that if my skills at magic were stronger by now I would not get treated like this. Like some second rate member of the family who is not allocated towels and also asked to ‘housesit’ when it was time for a ‘family holiday’ instead of actually attending the ‘family holiday’. I now know that Magic is my only ticket out of here, to infinity and beyond etc. I would show them. I would show them good.

But first I need to get my mental state right. It has been a tough time resettling back in New Zealand because Kenny Powers the pig is now too big to fit in my room comfortably and I have had to build a makeshift shrine for him to live in outside my window. Luckily I can reach my hand out to ‘Kenny’s Sex Shack’ and still be in contact with him physically, and also within reach so I can pour Nutri Grains onto his custom screen printed American Idol dining plate.
At least he seems happy to be here and is not afraid to go into the woods at the bottom of our section any more. Which essentially, I still am.
The other thing that has been tough about adjusting to New Zealand have been my constant headaches and recurring nightmares about plane crashes.
It is one thing to go down in a flaming plane wreck in a dream, but in these particular dreams I am also basically dying of starvation at the same time. I can confirm that this is not the greatest feeling on planet earth.
Luckily I know that more people per year die from being killed by donkeys than by plane crashes.
And because of this I feel safe to fly again, but on the flipside of that coin I am very wary of any donkeys I will meet on my travels and feel as though now is a good a time as any to be constantly carrying my slingshot around just in case.
I should have known there was something up with donkeys from the first time I went to a farmpark called Staglands and my dad put me on top of a donkey only to be bucked off seconds later into a medium sized pile of rabbit pooh.
Anyway, screw donkeys. They can all get stuffed.

I have a riddle.
Q. A woman shoots her husband. Then she holds him under water for over 5 minutes. Finally, she hangs him. But 5 minutes later they both go out together and enjoy a wonderful dinner together. How can this be?

At first I thought the answer was
A. She is married to Bernie from Weekend At Bernies and he is dead when they go out and enjoy the wonderful dinner together.

But the actual answer is
A . The woman was a photographer. She shot a picture of her husband, developed it and hung it up to dry.

Which I think is a reasonably boring answer.

Baths etc.

2010-11-01T17:49:00.000-07:00

I am most certainly not ashamed to admit to being involved in what I can only describe as a 'bath renaissance' that is currently occurring in East Berlin, spearheaded by the activity of our fourth floor apartment (informally known as The Gunners Pit, in homage to Guns N Roses lifestyle during their debaucherous and poverty filled period of living together before the release of their smash hit album 'Appetite For Destruction').

Here is a picture of Gunners. (If I was one of them I pags not being Steven Adler. I will take Duff, Izzy Stradlin or Slash preferably, or Axl at a push).

But there is probably no need for me to take Axl as here is a picture of my friend The Ginger dressed as Axl standing on his verandah looking pretty weird. I recommend clicking on the image to see it at a higher resolution and closer up.

The 'renaissance' was started by Sam in mid 2010 where his daily schedule revolved around his bath at sundown, I have taken the torch from him and begun running baths on a R.B (regular basis). So far our bathing schedules have not clashed and the system seems to work in perfect harmony, mainly due to the fact our days are usually pretty free while we go through this period of being 'between jobs'.
Being in the bath is not only good for cleaning your body, BUT as an added bonus it is a really great time to
a) plot master plans, and also minor plans
b) read Carl Sagan's 'The Cosmic Connection' and learn more about the universe
c) look out the window and reflect on crap that happened on that particular day

Occasionally I have been known to fall asleep and almost drown, but life has a funny way of making sure everything works out A O.K., and I am yet to die, or even choke on the bath water. I must admit it was reasonably unpleasant when I fell asleep in the bath and woke up to a phone call from Tim in London with the water almost totally freezing and full of coke as I had spilt a can of it in the bath which I had left in my hand as I fell asleep.
But it's not a big deal. And its all worth it of course, because it is the price you pay for cleanliness, which is next to godliness as my Poppa sometimes says. However this is pretty rich coming from him as he is usually totally grubby from hanging around in the garden all day planting Clivia and resembling a gnome as he is reasonably short and curious looking.

The whole scenario is all very 80s as far as I am concerned. Baths that is. Very 80s. I associate having a bath with being at my Aunty Jill's as a child and using Fred Flintstone soap and accidentally doing a pooh in the bath and then deciding to put a Smurf figurine on the pooh a little bit like he was riding a boat. Aunty Jill was not really impressed, but either way it showed pretty good initiative for a 12 year old kid.

As I associate having a bath with the 80s, it seems only fitting that my new found love for having a bath almost every day ties in pretty well with my new found love for the 1981 Hall And Oates hit 'I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)'.
It is also nice to know that this single took out the number 1 spot on the R and B singles chart in early 1982 and Hall upon learning this wrote in his diary, "I'm the head soul brother in the U.S. Where to now?". That really is a well thought out rhetorical question in my humble opinion.

I got to thinking today that things have changed a lot around Berlin in the last month. While a lot of it is to do with the seasons and the onset of Autumn, there are some things occurring which you just can't blame on the weather.

1. I have changed my name to 'Maniac' and it seems to be slowly catching on amongst the community I am associated with, although my friend Heather has an annoying habit of referring to me as 'The Maniac', which is pretty much the most ridiculous nickname I have ever heard of.
2. Sam and I have set up mirrors in our respective rooms at the perfect angle so when our doors are open we are able to talk to each other while making eye contact without having to leave our respective beds. If either of our doors are closed, we usually just Skype one another if any issues need discussing.
3. We have been spending a lot of time with a life size stuffed White Tiger called 'Rick'.

4. The gang 'Drugs' I was in has disbanded, and also the other gang I am involved with (The Bear And Cougar Gang) is taking a small hiatus while one of the members is in Thailand smoking opium and looking for the world's hottest chilli.
5. We have started eating soup more often. The highlight has been the one Sam made on his debut soup making effort called 'Miami Eclipse'.
6. I have purchased a briefcase so I have somewhere to put all my documents. it has been very, very handy so far. I now can feel content knowing that most of my important papers and documents are all in the same place. I may however have to pop it open with a swiss army knife as I have just remembered that I didn't write the combination down on the locks and I closed it around 2 weeks ago.

There are obviously a few other things, but i feel now is probably not the right time to bring them up as I C.B.B (can't be bothered).

I will however mention that I found a website called Jeff Goldblum is watching You Poop, which is the worst news I have ever heard. I can not think of a worse scenario that could possibly occur on planet earth. I already feel uncomfortable knowing I am in the same hemisphere as Goldblum, the thought of him being able to see me do a pooh is terrifying beyond belief.
Great, I also just found out his middle name is Lynn.

Anyway, I am not going to waste anymore time worrying Goldblum today, as I should be celebrating due to Halloween.
Last night was the night before Halloween and every idiot and his dog got dressed up and went out amongst the city streets terrorising and drinking.
I was on a reasonably tight budget so put a plastic bag over the top half of my body and a coat hanger on my neck and went out as Drycleaning. It was essentially ingenious and I plan to re-enact the costume every year until I die of natural causes or am killed by a bolt of lightning (as predicted in my dream, which was probably a prophecy).

Fortunately I was escorted by Sam dressed as Audrey Hepburn, so it all worked out in the wash and we made a handsome couple.

Anyway, as it is 1:40am and I need to make sure I get my ten hours rest, it is probably a good time to stop my ranting. Also, that fat good-for-nothing pig of mine Kenny Powers is annoying me for his snack and if I don't get it out of the fridge and put it on his 'American Idol' themed dinner plate, he will probably puke on one of my prized possessions just to spite me and I C.B.B cleaning up any of his puke before sun up.

As it is essentially the texture of a buttload of Ectoplasm from the movie Ghostbusters, which in my humble opinion is totally gross.

Getting Cold and also quite poor in Berlin. But who gives a flying crap. Also, Kenny Powers meets his true nemesis, and I meet mine.

2010-10-01T06:19:00.000-07:00

The temperature has begun to drop in the city of Berlin, and Germany in general I imagine. Because of this I have started to wear a thick Burberry jacket that I inherited from Heather's 2009 winter collection and I have fitted Kenny Powers the pig with a loose fitting white woollen vest which makes him look like a cult leader. We look like a force to be reckoned with when we scour the city streets looking for spare change and/or empty glass bottles we can trade in for money at the supermarket.

Times are becoming tougher financially in Berlin for us and because of this I have taken the advice of a strange English chap i met the other day. I think his name was either Clint or Lint, but I cant quite remember to confirm 100 per cent.
'Shoplift. Don't do it all the time or you'll get caught. Just do it MOST of the time. I've been 'ere free years now and I just don't 'ave the money anymore NOT to shoplift. A can of soup 'ere, a block of cheese there, just the bayyyyysics mate.'
'Ok,' I replied 'That sounds pretty good i suppose.'

I plan to go on my first shoplifting mission this evening but have decided to first of all write a note to Heather with instructions on how to care for Kenny Powers the pig if I am caught and thrown in jail:

Dear Heather, If you are reading this I am either still out shoplifting or possibly even worse... In jail. Please don't bother trying to come and find me as I am obviously 'done for'. But as we are friends, and if you really value my friendship, please adopt Kenny Powers the Pig as your own. I know he kind of likes you, and because you are mainly vegetarian I have no fear that you will kill him for meat when times become tougher. Please look after him, and if you get the chance please take him here for New Years
http://www.tropical-islands.de/en/visitors/shows/new-years-eve-2010.html
As that is where I kept telling him I was going to take him and where I predicted to meet the woman of my dreams AKA his surrogate mother.
I have left a buttload of Nutri Grains in the cupboard so don't complain about how I am not providing for him.
If you are reading this and I make it home tonight without getting locked up, please don't get 'up in my grill' about shoplifting. It is a life choice I have made to try and provide for kenny powers and I
Kind Regards
Reuben P. Bonner AKA Reubo-Cop
p.s Thank you for the left over Chilli Con Carne last night, it was totally delicious.
p.p.s Have you seen where my favourite tea towel is? I prefer to not do the dishes unless I have that particular tea towel on hand. I hope you understand.

As Rik Ocasek (lead singer of The Cars) once said: People are strange. We're all morticians. Hey, what's on TV?
Here he is looking totally awesome, and a bit like Sam.

Anyway, I think the saying is relevant in this instance.
Tomorrow Kenny Powers and I will move out of our lovely digs at Heather's and move into the sordid den that will be the song writing hub of An Emerald City. Sam and Rob and I (and Rob's GF Meg) will move into the 'Guns'N'Roses' sloth pit to save money and spend as much time together finishing writing our second album, which is essentially a concept album about travelling to Mars and also the fourth dimension.
I will be living in a room with a single mattress and a sleeping bag and Kenny Powers' basket in the corner. Times will be tough, and no doubt my room will look like a junkies cave but I don't really give a flying crap as life is reasonably enjoyable and it is not as debaucherous as you might think.

When Guns'N'Roses were living together in the band practise room before they 'made it', it was so sordid that once Izzy Stradlin was making sex to some woman and accidentally came on Slash's leg. I don't think that will ever happen with Sam and Rob and I. But even if it does, what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. The rule with our new house is that you can't visit unless you have read Slash's autobiography. That way we will be able to concentrate on our music, and also only have guests who have their priorities right in life, and are obviously well read.

Speaking of educated people, I met my ultimate nemesis in Gorlitzer Park earlier today when Kenny Powers and I were walking through it on our way to the daily 3pm half price bakery sale on Oppelnerstrasse.
I spied him from at least 200 metres away, as did Powers. Not only did he have slicked back hair, a matching tracksuit, and was reading Max and Moritz comics on the bench, he also had beside him a small yet sinister looking Bentheim Black Pied pig. A very rare German breed with large stupid looking ears.

I noticed Kenny Powers the pig's bristles stiffen as if he had immediately sensed a new kind of evil.
I knew that something was not quite right with this pair of bench dwellers so I decided we should make a wide arc away from them so as to not have to make I.E.C (immediate eye contact).
Luckily for us we ran into the frisbee guy who hangs around in Gorlitzer Park every day throwing the frisbee to whomever is willing. We stopped to talk, as I felt he may have the lowdown on my new enemy.

'Who the hell is that guy up there with the pig?' I asked with venom in my voice.
''It's Dani Klar,' Frisbee man replied 'He is a computer programmer from Kreuzberg. And that's his pig: 'Kraftwerk'.'
'Damn it. That is such a good name for a German pig. It appears he will make a worthy enemy,' I muttered.
'What did you say?' the Frisbee man asked.
'Nothing,' I replied as I stared towards Klar and Kraftwerk.
It appeared he had noticed us also as had strategically put his German comic book down so he could stare across the park at us chatting with Frisbee Man.
'The hell is he looking at,' I muttered again, 'If I was in New Zealand right now I would yell out to him and say 'Have you got an eye problem?'. That is a typical thing New Zealanders say to people who stare,' Kenny Powers snuffled as if in agreement and locked eyes with Kraftwerk to let him know that we meant business, and if war for territory is what they wanted, it is what they would get.
The Frisbee Man continued,
'You really have no cause to try and start any kind of tension with Dani. He's a harmless character and in fact, quite a recluse. I believe he experienced a semi-traumatic childhood due to a strange physical defect. When he was younger his penis was connected to his scrotum by an extra flap of skin that shouldn't have been there, causing him an acute amount of pain and discomfort. It wasn't until he was operated on when he was 11 that the penis was actually seperated from his testicles, and until that point his equipment was all one one 'entity''

I paused for around a minute without looking at the Frisbee Man before even considering my reply. The content of the Frisbee Man's story really had startled me, and I actually felt like I had been hit by a medium-powered bolt of lightning.
I was baffled, not only with my new nemesis' situation, but more so with another question:
'How do you actually know all this information about that guys balls and dick?' I turned and asked the Frisbee Man screwing my face up in ultimate confusion.
'I just know a thing or two about a thing or two,' he replied as he nonchalently walked off spinning the frisbee on his finger.
I literally felt sick. And couldn't believe that some guy who threw a frisbee around in the park knew so much about another random characters dick and balls who just happened to be sitting around in the same park.
I stared after the Frisbee man, perturbed for a couple of minutes before I turned back to eyeball my new nemesis.
I knew that I had to take him seriously as he was obviously smart and slightly disturbed. I had already thought of a worthy nemesis name, from here on in, Dani Klar would be known by my allies and I as 'BallDick'. And he and Kraftwerk would rue the day that they ever crossed Kenny Powers the pig and I. Even though they had not officially crossed us yet.

JUPITER, MARS, BLUE WHALES, THE FOURTH DIMENSION, AND SOME NEWS ON MY ENEMIES

2010-09-24T04:20:00.000-07:00

This week, as per usual, I have been exploring outer space and the universe on the Internet most days. Essentially it feels like I am back at university or at the very least doing my masters or PHD from home. I am learning so much that I refer to my time on the Internet as 'The Virtual School Of Life' and I don't feel any real guilt that I am an unemployed musician living in the Turkish quarter of Berlin with an approximate budget of around 6 New Zealand dollars per day for food and entertainment.
I also feel like a real grown up finally as I now watch approximately the same amount of documentaries as I do fantasy or sci-fi movies, so there seems to be a real 'paradigm shift' there as I transcend from adolescent to adult.
In fact only a couple of days ago I decided to watch a documentary on Blue Whales as opposed to the fantasy film Pan's Labyrinth. Although I have seen Pan's Labyrinth twice before it still showed that i am 'ready to learn'.
I have decided after watching this particular documentary that if I ever meet a professional whaler I will most certainly give them a piece of my mind. And for my Anti-Whaler Piece De Resistance I will also somehow find out which car is theirs in the parking lot and kick it in and maybe even urinate on the radiator.

If you weren't aware, Blue Whales are pretty big and therefore, apart from human beings, their main enemy are Giant Squids, the Kracken, and to a lesser extent giant sharks and/or crocodiles. It didn't exactly say this in the documentary but I took the initiative and read between the lines.
Here is a picture of the Kraken attacking. My initial thoughts are 'fuck that!'

Humans don't actually know a hell of a lot about Blue Whales and until recently they had never seen a newborn 'baby Blue' as it was unknown where Blue Whales travel to for breeding. Leading marine biologists and some other scientists with beards have since discovered that one of the breeding hotspots is a section of ocean called 'The Dome' near the coast of Costa Rica. Because they know this now, it somehow bodes well for the monitoring and well being of Blues Whales, which is actually excellent news. However if there are any whalers reading this and you think you can use that location information for a tip-off, then you need to take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror.

Suffice to say, I am a big Blue Whale fan and it pretty much makes me want to give all whalers AIDS since the population of Blues has dropped from around 275,000 to less than 10,000 since whalers began hunting them. Making them officially an endangered species. It is good news that since whaling of blue whales was outlawed their population is slowly on the rise.

Anyway, after that total buzz-kill documentary about Blue Whales I sat on my bed thinking for about 15 minutes while I looked out the window hoping to get a peek of the TFGs (third floor gays) or the guy on the second floor who owns an Iguana to cheer me up. The whole Blue Whale debate seems like a hopeless situation and I really don't know what else to say about it.
When I looked back at my computer there was an email from Sam with an excellent 'Internet link' for me to watch, it would no doubt put me back into a good mood.
I decided to put on my blue lace woman's dressing gown and pretend I was at the cinema. I turned the lights out and the volume up quite loud. After around 3 minutes or so I was hooked.
'WHAT are you watching?' Heather asked as she came into my room for one of her frequent chats.
'A documentary by Carl Sagan about the Fourth Dimension,' I replied.
'You're weird. All you ever do is listen to that weird song about Mars and research outer space. Sam is the same.'
"Ah, It's because we are well informed. It would actually do you some good to make an effort and learn a little bit about the Fourth Dimension,'
'Ah, what even is the Fourth Dimension?' she asked, however my gut instinct was that she was not really that fussed on knowing the answer.
'I can't be bothered explaining right now. But suffice to say that is a much more advanced dimension than the first, second and third. You should just watch this documentary and spend less time working. Otherwise you'll never learn anything worthwhile. And as a side note, that weird song about Mars you are referring to is called The Case For Mars, it's by The Symphony Of Science, and it's pretty much a stroke of genius,'
'Okayyyyy,' she said. She then backed out of the room as if I had gone crazy. Sometimes I felt that her interest in outer space was a little limited, but you can't save everyone I guess.

Here is a little picture on trying to understand the fourth dimension.

I finished the documentary on a high and then emailed Sam:

Yo,
thanks for the link. The Fourth Dimension is totally great, I am pretty sure it is my new favourite dimension.
Seeya,
Reuben AKA Reubocop AKA Lightning Dog.
P.s I have found out some pretty cool things about the planet Jupiter and also the Sun today. Mainly stuff about how Jupiter is approximately 318 times the size of earth. Fact.
And the Sun has a mass of around 330,000 times that of the earth. Its totally nuts, and it just makes me think how big outer space is. It's actually pretty huge.

I didn't get a reply, but knew he was probably thinking the same thing.
My hunger had risen again so I decided to walk down the road to buy some Linsensuppe (lentil soup) from the kebab shop on the corner. It was a shame that one of my main Berlin enemies was working behind the counter when I ordered.
'The Linsensuppe Ferret' cast his beady little rodent eyes over my dressing gown with disapproval as he ladled my soup into the silver orphanage-style bowl. But I really didn't give a flying crap about what he thought, and in protest I got a coke out of the fridge, popped the lid and took a sip before paying for it, all the while making E.C (eye contact) with the L.S Ferret.
He was fast becoming my biggest Berlin enemy and I knew that I would have to watch myself in the soup queue. The logical choice would have been to find a new kebab shop to buy my linsensuppe, but then it is a well known fact that humans are supposed to keep their friends close, but their enemies closer. I then started imagining that if he truly was my enemy and I wanted to stay extremely close to him, it might be an idea to see if he was interested in moving in together. But i realised that I was being a bit extreme and didn't bother mentioning it to him.
I have great news to add!
Phil Collins has a new album out. And there is a huge billboard just down the road from my house with his extremely round head on it just to prove it!
In case you didn't realise, I am being sarcastic and consider this to be the worst news since hearing that Goldblum was not only bringing out two movies in 2010, but now starring in a prime time television show called Law And Order. Great.
Firstly, Phil Collins head is far too round.

Secondly, nobody with a head that round should ever be trusted.

Thirdly, is it absolutely necessary for him to have a picture of just his head on the cover of almost every single album he has made?

Fourthly, I will forever curse Collins and his poor drumming for being the reason that the 1985 Led Zeppelin reunion at Live Aid was a disaster. Even Jimmy Page confirmed that. Here is a picture of Jimmy Page looking totally awesome as he is the greatest

And in contrast, a picture of Phil Collins looking totally annoying as he is the worst.

So essentially, Phil Collins is one of my main enemies at the moment.
In fact, if I was stuck with Collins and Goldblum on a deserted island, I think I would throw myself off the nearest coconut tree to certain death, yelling only
'I regret nothiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnggggggggggg,' as I flew towards my rocky demise.

The rise of the Bear and Cougar gang and also the arrival of my N.W.A t-shirt

2010-08-12T14:41:00.000-07:00

this is a map of compton...

A lot has happened in recent weeks. Not only insignificant daily happenings as per usual, but also a series of life changing events that have led me further to believe in 'fate' and also 'spooky mumbo jumbo crap involving destiny' etc.
The first instance was when my N.W.A - Straight Outta Compton t-shirt finally arrived in the post from the Internet.
As some of you may know, if you are advanced on computers you are able to hack into the 'mainframe' on the Internet, enter a credit card number and somehow turn photos from the Internet into actual material objects which turn up at your house.

I would refer to it as no less than amazing and it just goes to show that computers have come a long way since they were first invented in the early 1990s. Back then I even thought it was amazing when Julian Maloney from up on Kempthorne Crescent figured out how to copy Amiga 500 games like Great Giana Sisters, Shinobi and Revenge Of The Mutant Camels onto little plastic 'discs' so I could also have copies of them.
In saying that, I wouldn't refer to him as the greatest guy who ever lived seeing as he blew up our letterbox with a bunch of 'Double Happy' fireworks when I said he wasn't allowed to come round to our house one afternoon.
I can confirm that my mum (AKA The Morning Stomper) was not impressed when she went to check the mail only to find exploded wood and some burnt Christmas cards. From then on Julian Maloney was blacklisted from visiting, which was fortuitous as it left me a whole lot more time to play computer games as opposed to listening to him talking a whole bunch of garbage for hours on end. Also having to share my afternoon tea was getting to be a pain in the neck.
My N.W.A t-shirt however:

It had taken almost two weeks worth of standing on the fourth floor balcony in Sam's pink togs (shirts off) with binoculars waiting on the postman.

The fourth floor tenants across the street made an awful lot of unnecessary eye contact in that time, and I also think 'The Third Floor Gays' (The TFG's) may have got the wrong impression from my daily wave. Either way, as the old saying goes 'a watched pot never boils' and the day I didn't go out looking for my arrival from the Internet, I came home from the pools and a parcel was on my doorstep. I looked around to see if I was being monitored by any 'web masters' before I went inside my apartment, but the coast seemed to be relatively clear, so I am pretty sure the Internet has not cottoned onto my hacking yet.
The t-shirt is magnificent, and when I have it on it really looks like I have literally just come 'straight out of Compton' or at the very least, a neighbouring South Central Los Angeles neighbourhood such as Long Beach, Crenshaw or Inglewood.

It also has boosted me up the heirachy within the gang 'Drugs' I co-founded with my friends Veronica and Toni. I am pretty much now gang leader and have quite a bit of 'respect' from my gang members and also from some of the other local gangs who hang out at the Neukolln Pools.

Veronica confirmed recently that she had also found a flick knife with a picture of Jesus on it that she would gift to me, so if that is not a sign of gang respect, I don't know what is.
Not only am I pleased that the gang 'Drugs' is forging a reputation as one of the best gangs in Berlin, it has also given me the confidence to branch out in joining or creating other gangs.

After a recent trip to Poland with Sam, his parents and our mutual friend Heather, we soon realised that it was no longer a holiday, but more of a quest to form an exciting new gang. This was realised once we drove into the beach town of Dziwnowek on the Northwest coast of Poland where we were surrounded by some of lifes true 'weirds' and a stretch of ocean known as the Baltic Sea. The main road down to the beach was a suitable staging point for our quest as we came across a stall on the side of the road selling a number of stupid towels and also one particularly amazing cape.
Most of the towels had stupid pictures on them eg. a dolphin in a fresh water lake jumping in front of a rainbow OR a horse standing by itself on the beach, where realistically it should have been standing in a field OR a kitten wearing a denim hat sitting inside a sneaker...
But our mouths dropped when we saw what 'fate' had sent us to Poland for. Hanging beside all the towels was an amazing black cape with a picture of:
a) a bear
b) a tiger
c) a wolf
d) a cougar
e) a panther
f) the moon
g) some stars
h) an eclipse

Sam and I purchased a cape each immediately and took a blood oath as we formed The Bear And Cougar gang on the spot.

Heather was a bit hesitant, but was happy to document our quest with photos as we checked out the local gun shack, church, and a restaurant where I ordered a burger that looked like it had been made out of old Sloth meat. I ate only one bite before smearing the ingredients on the table in disgust, which will seem ludicrous if you are familiar with my love of burgers and essentially eating in general. Heather went back later to purchase another cape, but was not as enthused as Sam and I about wearing it out in public 24 hours a day, or more specifically, until we are 'killed by rival gangs or lightning.'

But she was extremely useful in finding a shop that sold N.W.A rings which made the trip even more worthwhile as a quest.
(here is a photo of me drunk taking a photo of my N.W.A rings to send to my gang mates from 'Drugs' to prove once and for all that I am a worthy leader of the gang)

As we left Poland to cross back over the German border it came to our attention that we still were holding some Polish Zlotys, which was the local currency. We were in a hurry as we didn't want the border authorities to realise that the Bear And Cougar Gang were about to flee the country to return to Berlin as national heroes/ freedom fighters of great renown. We did however have to spend the Zlotys we had so Sam and Heather purchased vodka while I purchased a giant rug with a wolf on it. Which I hung on my bedroom wall when I got home.
(here is a pic of the Bear And Cougar Gang admiring the Wolf blanket)

It was also great to find out recently that the actor Nicholas Cage ate magic mushrooms with his cat 'Lewis' and hallucinated that they were brothers.
I have never taken magic mushrooms with a cat before, but if the situation came up I assume 'Lewis' would be a suitably named cat to do it with.

Mars. Star Wars. And my budding career as a poet.

2010-07-28T14:16:00.000-07:00

A couple of tips on living in Germany
1. It appears that people in Germany do not know what it means when you say to them 'A La Peanut Butter Sandwicheeeeeeees!' And then start counting like the count from Sesame Street. So don't try that. It just goes to show that there are always going to be language barriers in this crazy world we live in.
2. It is also heavily recommended to refrain from doing the Chewbacca growl when you are in an elevator with Germans, because 9 times out of ten, they will not find it funny if you are a stranger. Standing in the corner holding a lamp. In a black singlet.
On a moving job.

Also, try learning German if you want to get a job.

Coincidentally, my work schedule has picked up markedly in the last month. I have done around two moving jobs navigating our trusty van Jim the Eagle with various items throughout the streets of Berlin. With a grand total of around 10 hours work under my belt I feel it is about time to 'update the CV'.
The money is really starting to roll in so I feel it is safe to ring my mother and tell her than gainful employment has been attained. I will call collect.

Most of my other time has been spent hanging around at the Neukolln pools in Sam's pink togs and walking up to people asking if they have any of 'the chronic' aka 'the weed' available to buy. Preferably about 5 euros worth.
Here is a picture with some guy with his head stuck in a big bag of 'the chronic'. It looks pretty cool.

I found success after running into a guy by the name of 'Killer' I had met previously at a punk bar up the road when I was playing pool.
He didn't seem the type to hang around at the pools, but man did I know I was wrong after I saw him a) swimming b) hanging out in the park by the pool and c) lining up for the high diving board. I have also lined up for the high diving board and flown off it like a wing and a prayer. it is a 10 metre drop and is pretty exhilirating. It is also good entertainment watching all the young fat kids at the pools going off it. I am going through a fat kids phase, I find them critical to the world.

While the pool has been a staple of my summer, If I am up early enough (before 1pm) it is a nice option to mix things up and go to the lake. The last time I went I borrowed Sam's medieval sword and cut the water and did quite a few good poses on a floating log for a photo shoot whiist drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette.

Although I don't look absolutely amazing in the photos as I am a bit fatter than most of my friends, it sometimes works in my favour to be a bit 'bigger', especially when people mix me up for a fat version of Mark Wahlberg, or if I am wearing all black, a slightly fat version of the singer from Metallica. It is not so cool when you get called the brunette Philip Seymour Hoffman, or the fat guy out of the magicians Penn and Teller.

The last couple of days I have not gone to the pools or the lake because I am pretty sure I have Glandular Fever or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I am extremely tired and even have slept through my 11am alarm where I wake up for two minutes to get a juice and then check on the internet to see if Jeff Goldblum has died and/or retired from acting before immediately going back to sleep until 1pm.
My friend Heather seems to think the lethargy is coming from my 'continuous series of drinking appointments', but I am sure it is something more serious. Maybe I have accidentally swallowed some poisonous berries or a small dose of Rohypnol or slow release Ketamine.

This guy looks a little bit like he has had some Ketamine also, or is in the 'K-Hole'

Since I have had time on my hands I have tried my hand at poetry and also begun researching outer space a lot. Mainly Mars, as it is the most natural planet for humans to relocate to in 2012 when the world ends, due to its similarities to earth. Eg. It has water, it has carbon, it has a 24 hour day. Essentially Mars is a world of wonders with canyons, river valleys and giant ice sheets. Not to mention the giant rift in its surface which is 5000km long and the volcano which is as wide as Arizona.
I pretty much copied that whole paragraph from a song called The Case For Mars by The Symphony Of Science AKA my new favourite band (apart from Beastwars).
The Symphony Of Science originally ripped off those words from a few scientists like Carl Sagan and Robert Zubrin and others, however since they put the words through a vocoder and set it to trippy space music I would never call it plagiarism.

Here is Mars, AKA the Red Planet, aka the Planet Mars. And as I said previously, it is pretty much a world of wonders as far as I am concerned.

As I mentioned before, I have been trying my hand at poetry, and if I don't say so myself... pretty good.

GOLDBLUM by R. P Bonner
When will you stop acting?
When will you die?
Can't you quit while you're ahead like Rick Moranis did?
He is retired from acting.
Or at the very least stop acting so patronising and only playing one character.
You were pretty good in The Fly i suppose
I felt robbed when i thought you were dead last year,
It was just some sick, twisted media hoax
But actually.... Michael Jackson was dead on the same day you were rumoured to be.
And Farrah Fawcett too... (but mainly M.J.)

THE END

It is a little bit raw, but I think that is my style.

Because I have been at home a lot more I tend to see my flatmate Heather in the lounge sometimes after I come out of the bathroom:

'Do you find it absolutely necessary to sing the Star Wars theme song every time you have a shower?' she asked me
'No. The answer is no to that question.'
'Ok, you just seem to sing it an awful lot when you are showering. The walls are pretty thin here,'
'I have never sung the Star Wars theme song in the shower in my LIFE'
'You just got out of the shower after singing it about two seconds ago,'
'INCORRECT!' I shouted with gusto 'I think you will find that is the Imperial March AKA Darth Vader's theme that I was singing which is totally different from the Star Wars main theme,'
'Ok Reuben. I should have known that. I apologise,' she said sarcastically
Ignoring the sarcasm I continued on my tirade as I felt it was my duty to try and expel some of the ignorance in this world in regard to the masterpiece that is Star Wars.
'The Imperial March is a theme that represents the totalitarian Galactic Empire as a whole, and Darth Vader specifically. More than other Star Wars themes, the March has attained an iconic status in the Western consciousness as a general "evil theme" and in the Original Trilogy, The Imperial March also represents all that is the Empire; therefore,I would almost go so far as to call it galactic anthem. Or some crap like that,'
'You're strange,' she replied
'I may be strange, but at least I wouldn't be caught dead singing the faggy Star Wars main theme or even worse the Rebel Fanfare while I am in the shower, or anywhere for that matter,'
She left the room.
I also left the room, whistling The Imperial March as I simultaneously spun on my heel and flicked my towel over my back the same way Lord Vader might with his cape after he would leave a meeting with the Emperor. It felt pretty good.

touring with larry arab and the prime ministers, and some other crud about some things i like and dislike.

2010-06-25T09:16:00.000-07:00

It was probably only the second time I had ever been offered legitimate work since I had been in Berlin so I decided I should probably take it. A friend had emailed asking if I would be interested in going on tour with the band Lawrence Arabia as tour manager/ driver. Any travel involving music was usually exciting so I gratefully accepted, but naturally before we ironed out the finer details I asked if there was room for me to bring Kenny Powers the pig along.
'I don't know if I feel absolutely comfortable with you bringing a pig on tour,' said James Milne aka Lawrence Arabia.
'Ok that's understandable, is it a space issue or...?'
'I think there would probably be room in the back of the van with the instruments, but I guess it is more of the 'toiletting' issue. And just the fact that we are not really used to travelling with a pig,' he continued.
'I see. Well, he is pretty well trained, but maybe it would be easier if I left him with a friend in Berlin.'
"Yeah maybe it would,'
I felt a bit put out to be honest, but then realised it was for the best as Kenny Powers did not seem to be a huge fan of me dragging him along to live gigs since his hearing was damaged at the Spandau Ballet concert when we were stuck near to the speaker.

I asked my friend Heather if she minded looking after Kenny Powers the pig for a couple of days, this was immedietley after I handed her a copy of Tina Turner's 'Private Dancer' on vinyl as a gift.
It was a cunning ploy, but she said yes. So I gave her a packet of nutri grains and some written instructions on what his favourite activities were (watching the Jane Fonda workout video, sniffing around for truffles in the park and lying on the balcony in the sun on his back looking like he's dead).
'Please don't get him wet or feed him after midnight,' I told her
'Oh really, ok, why?' she sounded worried which was not really the desired effect.
'Just kidding, that's just what happened in the movie Gremlins. You weren't allowed to get the mogwai wet or feed him after midnight. Or put him in direct sunlight.'
'Oh, ok, I haven't seen Gremlins' . She didn't find the joke especially funny, which is usually the case with jokes where you have to explain the punchline.
'Oh,' I replied.
'So it doesn't matter if he gets wet then? Or eats after midnight?'
"yeah, I guess thats ok,'

We had a quick uncomfortable silence and then I left the house and went and unlocked my bike Nenneth (which is essentially Kenneth with an 'N').
I spent about five minutes thinking about how funny that Gremlins reference might have been if the person I told it to had seen the film Gremlins. Then as I hopped onto Nenneth my pants split and I slammed the handlebars and yelled out the F word. These were my only pants I had in Germany and I was about to catch a train to Hannover. Luckily I was wearing my summer trenchcoat which covered the split.

The train to Hannover was reasonably boring and as per usual I looked for a seat close to the 1st class section as it is quite common to see old men in 1st class who look like Colonel Sanders, and i didn't want to miss out.
After one hour of not seeing any sign of any Colonel lookalikes I decided to look out the window at the wind turbines. I think the bald man in 1st class appreciated this anyway as I assume he felt like I was staring at him the whole time as we made A.E.C (awkward eye contact) about thirty times. He looked a bit like Ghandi I must admit and i sat there wondering if he was thinking that i looked like The Fat Mark Wahlberg or the lion out of Wizard of Oz. Which I have been told I look like a few times.
I have also been told I look like the mutant son of Art Garfunkel and Meatloaf, but that was coming from a guy who looks like the combination of the main orc from Lord of The Rings and a first generation iPOd that has been dropped on the ground a few times. Hence why I call him 'the Orcpod' or sometimes just 'The Orc' or 'The Pod'.

I guess everyone has their own opinion on lookalikes.

Halfway through the trip a lady got on the train and sat across from me and read the paper really loudly. I had no battery left in my iPod but put the earphones in anyway and began humming, and a bit of whistling because I felt like annoying her so she would get up and go and turn the pages somewhere else at the volume of 100 decibels.
I don't remember much about the tour other than arriving in Hannover and getting lost but ending up on a street with lots of Thai 'Massage' options and also asking to borrow someone's roll on deodorant but them not being extremely comfortable lending it to me.
I also dropped a bottle of cherry juice on the ground and it smashed and cut James foot.
The other thing I remember is telling the band the aformentioned fact about looking half like meatloaf and half like art garfunkel and some one suggesting the nickname 'Meatfunkel', which I thought was pretty good.
Although, I have recently taken to wearing a cape around the city and have therefore self-titled myself as The Vigilante, even though Sam's flatmate called my cape an airplane blanket and referred to me as 'The Lard' instead.

After doing that two or three days of work as a tour manager/merchandiser/ driver/ party planner, I decided to take it easy for a month or so. As i didn't want to get 'burnt out'. So I spent a lot of time doing some critical thinking and also a slight amount of soul searching.

After some serious internal debate I have recently decided that I like the following ten things:
1. Wizards
2. Juice
3. Nunchakas
4. Olden day fighting movies eg Braveheart etc
5. Outer space
6. most fat people
7. my pig Kenny Powers
8. looking out the window and thinking
9. running along, doing a jump and then Punching the air
10. Labyrinths

I have also decided that I don't like the following 15 things
1. slaters
2. being buried alive
3. making eye contact with strangers when they are eating
4. people splashing me in the pool
5. people who are so allergic to nuts that you can't even eat peanut butter sandwiches around them
6. Goldblum
7. having a dream about something totally awesome happening to me and then waking up and realising it never happened, and most probably never will. eg, the time i found 20 million dollars at mcdonalds and also the time i dreamt i was getting married to drew barrymore and had sex with her.
8. people eating bananas around me in enclosed spaces eg a train or an elevator
9. acid rain
10. humans who look extremely similar to a particular animal
11. ovens which don't have the words 'BAKE' or 'GRILL' or 'FAN BAKE' on them, but instead, stupid little signals which are hard to actually figure out what they mean.
12. The woman from the band M People
13. Having to go to dinner at annoying people's houses when your partner makes you
14. having to change the duvet cover
15. drugs that don't work or are so intense that you have to puke or freak out for an hour before they become good

here is a picture of what would happen to a gargoyle if you didnt protect it from acid rain

There are other things to be added on both lists, but these are the ones that immediately sprung to mind.

I also remembered recently I am not a fan of bonfires when the wind seems to blow the smoke towards you wherever you go and also flick sparks at your good jumper. There are actually about 10 more things I don't really like but now is not the time to be negative (eg.people who watch the TV out the corner of their eye with their head turned to the side so it feels like they are staring directly at the side of your face)

stay tuned for a great tale about me going into a labyrinth and meeting one of life's true weirds dressed as a medievel soldier down there brandishing a bow and arrow. And my ensuing envy.

Don't Fear The Reaper

2010-05-09T13:20:00.000-07:00

Well, Sam and I and Kenny Powers the pig made it back to Germany unscathed.
It was a battle and a journey all rolled in to one, but mainly the adventure of a lifetime. I think I am probably the only human to have snuck a fullgrown Vietnamese Potbellied pig into the Caesar's Palace Casino and hotel complex in Las Vegas and made it out without being arrested. For that, I will pat myself on the back and give Kenny Powers the pig a bag of nuts to celebrate.

It is probably his favourite food, especially if i crush them up and put it on a human plate as opposed to them being served uncrushed in his plastic blue bowl which has 'Kenny' written on it. Quite crudely written I might add, and done in lipstick that I stole from my ex-flatmate Slutbeast 2000, whom I never really liked. But that is a story for another day. Suffice to say she was given her name as she is a total moron who needs her head read and should go and jump in loch ness and hopefully get eaten by the L.N.M.

I will just conclude by saying that Kenny Powers also never really liked Slutbeast 2000 and maybe as it is her lipstick on his bowl, maybe that is why he is not so fond of eating from it.
Anyway.
The three of us are currently stuck in a small German village called Rodenbach. With a population of approximately 12,000 and located around 20km from Frankfurt I would not call it the most happening place in the world, but it certainly does have it's benefits. We are here because our trusty van Jim The Eagle was stored here over the German winter when we were in New Zealand and it has now been committed to a repair shop to undergo treatment on around 800 Euro worth of rust damage. When the man told me
a) Jim The Eagle wouldnt be ready until tuesday (when we were supposed to be in London by)
and
b) that Jim The Eagle's repairs would cost around 800 euros to fix, I felt like kicking a hole in the wall.

But then I calmed down after about five minutes because Sam started cooking a pizza.
All the instructions on the oven here are in German and neither of us could get it to go above 60 degrees as it some stupid digital device. The pizza took around one hour and a half to cook and was pretty gross. I caught myself looking out the window while I was eating it thinking about how I wished I had a better tasting pizza, but I can't complain because as my Aunty Raech used to say 'Think of the poor little homeless kids living under London Bridge eating only old orange peels.'

We have been holed up in this village for around 4 days and are sharing a two storied family home with an amazing German/English couple and two pet rats called Punk and Ginger. One of the rats has red eyes and every time i see it i am afraid I will get hypnotised by making eye contact with it. That is the last thing I would want to happen to me at the moment, being hypnotised by some German red eyed rat, and maybe ending up in some cult or something and losing a decade of my life worshipping a rat. My parents and Kenny Powers the pig would not be impressed if that happened.
I think i can safely say that when I grow up I will definately not select a rat for my first choice of pet. Especially not one with red eyes. To be honest, I would not call myself the biggest red eyed rat enthusiast.

Apart from avoiding making eye contact with the aforementioned rat, I have also been looking out the window, doing some cooking and playing Rock Band on playstation 3. Rock Band is a game which has a guitar, a bass, drums and a microphone and you can play along to well known pop and rock songs and try and get a good score. The maximum is 100 per cent. Sam and I have spent about 16 hours in total trying to get 100 per cent on the 1970's hit Don't Fear The Reaper by The Blue Oyster Cult.

If you have not heard this song then you are a total idiot and may as well go to a hardware store and buy a stout piece of rope and finish yourself off. it is a cold hard hit and should be given to children on CD on their first day of school if their dad has not already played it to them in the car when he is driving around town picking up stuff like plywood or a hammer and has his kid along even though they probably would rather stay at home and muck around with blocks or watch cartoons.
We have decided that even if our van is ready by Tuesday, we are not leaving this house until we both get 100 per cent simultaneously on Don't Fear The Reaper. I have been playing the drums under my drumming pseudonym 'Beats Powers' and Sam has been playing guitar, but has just been going under his normal name I think.
I actually probably should not be wasting time writing about mindless crap and be downstairs practising on 'Reaper'.
It has been a very relaxing time and Kenny Powers the pig has a good sized bark yard where he will root around for truffles after we have done our daily two hour training session.
For those of you who don't know, Kenny Powers and I are going for a Guinness Book of World Records Record. What record you may ask?
Behold:
The highest jump in the world ever made by a pig is 70 cm (27.5 in) and was achieved by Kotetsu, a pot-bellied pig on 22 August 2004 at the Mokumoku Tedsukuri Farm, Mie, Japan.
We are aiming to beat that by the end of this year and then proceed to reap all benefits involved with winning a 'Guinney'. Which I can only assume is endorsements, monetary gain and obviously attention from members of the opposite sex. My plan is to send KPTP (Kenny Powers the pig) for a week at a pig farm wearing his guinness gold medal around his neck where he can relax and talk to babes about his achievement and maybe make a special connection with some lucky lady.
KPTP and I chose a life less ordinary, and we aim to realise our dreams before we are to old and withered to try any more.
If anyone is interested in helping sponsor or fund this noble cause, then send me a fax, so it is a bit more official etc.
I must admit, it was pretty funny when the nextdoor neighbour peered over the fence and saw me training KPTP to jump out of a cardboard box.
'Was machst du mit dem Schwein?'
'Sprechen Sie English?'
'Ja, I speak some English. Why are you making this pig jump from out of this cardboard?'
'Because I will eat the pig'
'What?'
'I will eat the pig'
'I don't understand i'm sorry'
'I will eat the pig if he doesn't jump out of the box.'
Then the neighbour slowly backed away from the fence into his house, looking from me over to KPTP and back. He left us alone. Mission accomplished.
Sam just tried to run a bath, but the water wasn't hot enough Which reminds me, did everyone's mum used to say:
'You kids can just use the bath water after I'm finished in there?'
I hope so.
This is me in Las Vegas in a bath with James. We bath had a flannel each just in case you were wondering if there were dicks everywhere.

Knuckle sandwich. And the weird christian i followed for about ten minutes

2010-04-28T22:06:00.000-07:00

Luckily I just walked past a guy on the street who yelled out
'Hey! I'm A Christian!'.
I pretty much thought 'Good for you.' and kept walking, and then he yelled it again. So I thought
'This is getting pretty annoying now.'
And then guess what? He yelled it again, and I thought
'Who gives a flying crap. I dont walk down the road telling people that I have brown hair.'
And then he yelled it out again, but by then he was getting a bit further out of earshot so it started to become less annoying so I thought:
'Ha. This is kind of funny now, that idiot has just yelled out 'Hey! I'm a christian' five times in a row, I wonder how many more times he will yell that out.'
And then I felt like turning around and following him to see how many times he was going to say it before he stopped.
So I did.

After following him down the road for about ten minutes and counting him yell out
'Hey! I'm A christian!' 33 times I got pretty pissed off because I realised I had been walking the wrong way for ten minutes and had totally forgotten to go to my haircut appointment. Which is where I was heading when I first met that Christian.
I couldn't really be bothered turning around and walking back up the hill so I i texted my hairdresser to tell her I was hungover and couldn't make it to the haircut. This was much easier than having to explain to her via text message that I had been following a guy yelling out 'Hey! I'm A Christian'.
Because I was pretty bored I decided to go and look at the book shop, but after I had flicked through some magazine called Cowboys And Indians with Tom Selleck on the cover there was nothing good left there to look at,

so I went into a shop called Knuckle Sandwhich to buy some food, purely because the name is brilliant. The food was 'ok', but it was worth it just to have dined there. Even though the woman who served me didn't really have a clue about anything I had to ask her.
'Hello, welcome to Knuckle Sandwich how can I help you?'
'Hi. I would like a sandwich with lamb and also all the main vegetables. How many sauces are you allowed?'
'Two. Or you can pay an extra fifty cents per extra sauce.'
'Oh yeah. That is pretty standard with sauces really isn't it?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Well that is mainly the way these days isn't it? Two sauces for free etc?'
'Sorry, i don't really know.' She smiled nervously. Maybe because I was wearing my summer trenchcoat I suppose and asking about the sauces. But it was still pretty annoying she wasn't on my W.L (wavelength, or wave-o for short)
'Well I would like mint sauce and also some mayonnaise.'
'Ok that will be 8.50 thank you, would you like a drink?'
'I am ok thanks. If you guys served milkshakes then I would order one. Not many places serve milkshakes anymore do they?'
'I'm not sure.' Nervous laughter. I wanted to say 'Quit it with the nervous laughter.' but instead I said
'Knuckle Sandwich is a great name for a sandwich shop. That is the reason I came in here, I wasn't even really hungry to be honest. Who came up with that name 'Knuckle Sandwich' for this sandwich shop?'
'I'm sorry I really don't know. There is more than one Knuckle Sandwich, so maybe the guy who started the Knuckle Sandwich chain.'

Well if I was that guy who had come up with the name Knuckle Sandwich for all these sandwich shops I would have felt like giving this girl a knuckle sandwich for being my employee and not knowing my name.
She was polite, but so uninformed and complacent that I was inspired to take my sandwich elsewhere to eat it. AKA Walking down the road dropping a couple of pieces of coleslaw on the concrete and then kicking them to the side of the pavement.

'This sandwich is ok. But not great.' I thought to myself and then decided I would hail a cab when I had counted that I had walked 150 steps closer to my destination (which would have saved me about 20 cents, give or take a cent or two) on my cab fare.

My cab driver was pretty amazing, as many taxis drivers tend to be. The name on his taxi driver identification card on the windscreen was 'Malcol' . I assumed that it was short for Malcolm as many taxi driver IDs seemed to have letters cut off the end of their names, but just in case it was his real name I called him Malcol. After we broke the ice with the main questions (Who has your day been mate? What time did you start? What time do you knock off? Have you been busy? Must be awesome when you get called to take someone out to the airport?) we got to talking like two interested in each other human beings.

'So, Malcol, how often do you guys get to renew your identification cards?'
'Around once every five years.'
'That's pretty good I suppose.'
Then I looked out the window at some rollerbladers and cursed myself again for not carrying my slingshot with me at all times. Especially since two of them were holding hands so i could have aimed for where their fingers were linking.
Soon enough I was home, and Malcol rounded down on how much I owed him. So I gave him a tip of around one or two dollars and said
'Thanks a lot Malcol' and closed the door.
Then I walked inside and looked on Facebook and saw my friend had written on his page:
'I saw a goat's dick and now I can't stop thinking about it.' Which I thought was admittedly pretty funny.

Sick Again and a summary of places Kenny Powers The Pig tends to puke

2010-04-15T22:17:00.000-07:00

Well what do you know, I am sick again. For the second time within one month. But this time it is serious, well not deadly serious, AKA It isn't AIDS and it isn't AIDS 2, but it is not as minor as the 'common'. I guess you would say it is the flu as all my bones are stinging and also I have been shivering and/or sweating through the night.
It will take me 50 or 60 rolls over in bed before I get close to being comfortable, so after i have busied my self looking like some kind of thrashing bed walrus I will then carry into the night to have hallucinogenic dreams where i am either:
a) in the desert with no water and a plane flies over and drops some water BUT coincidentally a massive eagle with a huge greedy beak flies under neath it and collects all the water that i thought would fall on me. And I pull out my trusty slingshot BUT I have no stones or berries to fire at the cursed (pronounced cur-sid) beast.

or
b) I am so totally thirsty and running a marathon and as I run past, my supporters give me deliciously full water bottles and pat me on the shoulder, BUT as opposed to refreshing H20 or juice, the bottles are filled with either salt water, or sometimes warm blood, which as you probably know are not thirst quenching at all really. So then i get fed up and decide to shoot a flare gun at the next idiot who comes up to me with salt water, no exceptions. BUT it is a little kid. So I shoot him. And he explodes, and I keep running, and admittedly my remorse is pretty minimal because all I keep thinking about is how I wished he had given me some god damn juice.

For your information I would never shoot a kid in real life with a flare gun. Unless he was badly injured and I was trying to P.H.O.O.H.M (put him out of his misery). Anyway, being sick is actually not the best feeling in the universe, and the most annoying thing about the flu is the fact that everything you eat tastes like metal. Chicken sandwich = Metal sandwich. Tomatoes = wet red squishy metal. Roast beef = metal. Not that I would know what the latter tastes like as my mother AKA The Morning Stomper has a pretty strict policy of Rotisserie Chicken for all, for ever, for the whole family, for all meals.
There are currently two different rotisserie chickens in the fridge. I will not go near them though and would rather live off of grass and/or the drippings from the ceiling than eat another one of those things in any way shape or form.
I have taken to wandering down the hallway at night to look in the cupboard and fridge to check and see if my brother has some form of filing system to hide all the good food until I go to bed and then sneak it back out once I have retired, but alas, it is not so. But, I have gone off on a tangent again, the metal, thats what I was talking about.
One item that doesn't seem to taste like metal when you are sick is juice. It is though it will alway stay the same, (thank the lord) and being sick is the perfect excuse to really over indulge in juice, and it really is your god given right to drink around 3 litres of it in one day. And let the vitamins flow through you.
My faithful ally Kenny Powers the pig has a certain sixth sense in regard to when I am sick or not and tends to keep to his corner of the room when it is the appropriate time. Whether he can tell this by my overall juice consumption or just due to my general demeanour I am not sure, but that is certainly one of the top five things I like about him and probably the reason why we are such a powerful and unstoppable team. A few of the other things that I like about him are (including the aformentioned) :
a) Using his sixth sense to keep to his corner when I am sick so as not to get up in my face when I am trying to get comfortable and have my own 'space'. (The aforementioned).
b) Being happy watching a video with me on the couch and not feeling like he has to get up every five seconds to go to the bathroom or ask me every five seconds what is happening with the plot of the movie (which is what girls tend to do and is very disruptive).
c) Being a great discussion point if you ever need to meet any of your friends in the park and there is a bit of an uncomfortable silence when you are sitting around talking
d) Being further inspiration to save up for a motorbike with a sidecar, where he would be my main passenger (wearing an airpilots leather hat, goggles and a scarf).

and last but not least
e) Not needing to be fed all the time. I will happily leave a box of Nutri Grains, a sack of normal grains and a giant Toblerone in his basket at the beginning of the week and he knows it is expected to last him four days before he will get his next 3 days worth of food. He has taught himself to portion, ration and plan, which is just another reason why people should confirm how intelligent pigs are. And Kenny Powers, I believe, is one of the smartest of all of those cute little guys.

Admittedly, although he tends to keep clear of me when I am sick, it is the absolute opposite when Kenny Powers the pig is sick or feeling 'poorly'. It is though I am a magnet for his puke when the shoe is on the other foot and he is unwell. Quite often when he eats a whole block of chocolate he will immedietly get sick and usually puke on my leather jacket, my duvet cover or on and around my ear if i am lying down. It is times like this when you have to rise above the anger and realise you are responsible, almost like a parent, to help your dependants when they are unwell. The best thing to do is slide him off the bed away from the puke and into his basket and read him a chapter from the Hobbit until he relaxes or stops puking.
I must say it was kind of annoying when we had first arrived at the Auckland airport on our way home from Berlin via Korea and it came to my attention that Kenny Powers the pig had not travelled so well and had spent the second leg of the plane trip home puking all over himself in his cage in the cargo hold. A gigantic Samoan woman working at the Auckland airport advised me that there was 'quite a mess that I would have to take care of' when I went to collect him from the quarantine area. 'Great', I thought as I cursed him again. 'All that pig is really good for is puking everywhere at innopportune times and collecting a few coins from between the cracks of the ground with his snout when we are really desperate for money'. But I put those thoughts aside after about a minute and realised I still loved him as much as a man could love a pig without it being 'sick'. And my anger subsided when I saw him sitting there in his cage with puke everywhere, in fact I must say I was impressed that he didn't look demoralised. It was quite the contrary really, he was wearing his usual facial expression of 'I may just look like a pig to you, but if I was a human I would be a Count with riches and esteem that spreads through the surrounding lands'.

I was not really looking forward to cleaning all the puke off him to be honest and thought about offering to pay my brother $35 to do it. But then I remembered I only had 45 euro cents to my name and that he had a very firm policy of 'No IOUs' since I borrowed $20 from his piggy bank when he was 8 to spend on refill vodka to drink at Ladies Bay.
I also thought that because I had not seen him in around six months I didn't want our first conversation to go like this:
'Hi'
'Hi. Thanks for coming to the airport with mum to pick me up.'
'That's ok. Where's your pig?'
'At the quarantine. He puked everywhere on the plane in the cargo hold.'
'That's pretty cool. Did you bring me some DVDs back from Germany?'
'No. I couldn't find any. I got you and mum a big Toblerone to share.'
'Wow thanks for the most predictable gift travelling people ever get for their family, and then dividing it in half between two people.'
'That's ok. Do you know what jetlag is, or are you too young?'
'Yeah I know what it is. Why?'
'Because I have jetlag and need to sleep, so, I think it would be pretty cool of you to clean the puke off that pig when we get home. It will be a good way for you two to meet each other and do a bit of bonding as he will be living with us.'
'I will clean the puke of that pig if you give me $100 cash up front and also you have to take me to the video shop to hire R16 Xbox games whenever I ask you to for the whole of summer.'
'I counter that offer with this offer: $35 cash IOU to clean the pig and I will go to hire the R16 games whenever you ask me, as long as I don't have a headache at the time.'
'No way in hell. Have fun cleaning that puke off your pig. And also have fun trying to convince mum to let him in the car with puke on him.'
He was getting wiser to my devious plans this boy.

In other news, what the fuck is this picture?

Kenny Powers The Pig finds me a ten dollar note and two gays Kissing.

2010-04-05T04:50:00.000-07:00

If there is one thing I cant be bothered doing, that is
a)exercise
and/or
b) walking up steep hills trying to eat at the same time.
That is why today when I was sitting outside a bakery eating a chicken sandwich with my pig Kenny Powers (whose name and future bloodlines I now curse), I became extremely angry when he ran away from me and decided to go up a steep hill towards the park against my will and permission.
'Where the heck are you going you stupid jerk!' I yelled after him. He halted, looked around at me and then continued to walk up the hill while still making eye contact. I saw red and shook 'The Fist Of Angst' at the air and yelled towards him 'When I catch you you're dead Kenny Powers you stupid pig!'.

I decided I had to chase after him in case he got hit by a car or kidnapped because if he did then where would I be? I will tell you: standing in the middle of the road with a dead, half-trained pig and back to square one, just as far away from winning a prestigious Guiness World Book OF Records record as I ever was.
(In case you didnt know, we are in training for this record here, which we plan to have beaten within one year.
http://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/records/natural_world/animal_extremes/highest_jump_by_a_pig.aspx )

As I released a loud angry growl of frustration I made a snap decision and refused to leave my sandwich at the bakery while I chased after that moronic pig Kenny Powers, as odds are the woman behind the counter would come by and clear the table away and think my sandwich was left as rubbish. Or worse still, devour it as her own.
I already disliked her anyway as she reminded me of my true nemesis White Hair the lunch lady from my boarding school who would always serve me a smaller portion than the people ahead of and behind me in line. Therefore I C.B.B (couldn't be bothered) asking her lookalike to watch my sandwich while i went chasing after Kenny Powers the pig up what looked like one of the steepest hills in the city. Because no doubt she would have said 'No', or something equally annoying.
This meant that I had to carry the sandwich in my hand when I was walking up the hill chasing that damn pig, and as everyone probably knows, it is pretty hard to not eat a half eaten thing when it is sitting there in your hand beckoning you every one second to stuff it in your mouth. So I had to take bites as I was dealing with puffing and walking up the hill and being tired. Also to M.M.W (make matters worse) I stubbed my toe so bad that a flap had come off just like what would happen when you were a kid in the 80's. My toe started stinging and it made me so mad how 80's a move i had just made by stubbing my toe. I may as well have contracted an 80's disease like the Mumps or the Measles at the same time and shouted at my pig an 80's saying like 'Get Stuffed!' or 'You're Such A Twit'.

It was probably the most annoyed I had been all week, but I couldn't stop biting the sandwich, and with every tired breath and chew I cursed that pig with all my body and heart and took an oath to the sky and said 'He Will Feel My Vengeance aka My Wrath'. And when I got to the top of the hill there he was, just sitting there underneath a tree in amongst a bunch of fallen leaves by a bench where two gays were kissing on the lips.

They had also strategically parked their car with the door open and radio blaring right beside their 'getting with' seat, and it was playing MGMT. As I didn't want to interrupt them it was not the best time to start yelling at Kenny Powers the pig, so I took the last bite of my sandwich while breathing heavily and picked him up and walked back down the hill. I was squeezing him a bit tighter than I usually would so a) he wouldn't run away and b) to give him slightly sore ribs as punishment for making me walk up the hill eating.
I released my grip a bit when I noticed an M&M wrapper and also a ten dollar note stuck to his hoof. That brought down my anger factor from around 9.4 to about 6.1, and it further dropped to about 3 because I realised that seeing the gays kissing had reminded me that it was the Ginger's birthday, and that every birthday he would get a kiss on the lips from his dad, and now he was 31, and still getting a kiss on the lips on his special day. I sniggered at the thought of it and said to Kenny Powers
'I will spend that ten dollars on snacks from the petrol station and as punishment you will only get 30% of what I buy as opposed to the usual 45/55 split. But I am not angry anymore which is the main thing.'
He looked up at me with one of his looks which I knew to mean either
a) 'I understand, apologies for running off'
or
b) 'When In Rome'
Either way, we were friends again. So I started drifting off and thinking about something else. If I remember correctly it was how at a party the other night I had tried to convince a bunch of people that the basketball player Magic Johnson had beaten AIDS.

Or, was no longer testing HIV Positive after being diagnosed with the virus in 1991 just before my mum and stepdad got married. Either way, i did not know enough about the facts of him beating AIDS and could not back up my argument so the people at the party thought I was probably a real moron. But screw them as they were talking about boring crud in the first place hence why I had to bring up AIDS, which is always a pretty good ice breaker.

Banished by the Stomper. A story about determination.

2010-03-22T23:08:00.000-07:00

As my brother is confirmed as the preferred child in the family and also gets dibs on all the best groceries it was of no surprise to me upon getting sick with a mild case of the 'common' that i was banished by my mother, aka the Morning Stomper, to my bedroom so as to not infect my brother with my ailment. It was understandable as he did admittedly have a very important race coming up, and as he is one of the best 1500 metre runners for his age in the country, there is no way that I wanted to jeopardise any chance that at least one of the children in this family could do some achieving. This would bring up the family average, and keep the Morning Stomper satisfied with the level of her offsprings productivity, and therefore make her less likely to come in and shout at me for spending time in the middle of the day sitting in the lounge watching old Macgyver episodes.

I consider this bad juju and really feel like my 'mellow' is 'being harshed' when the Stomper comes in with flailing arms and words flying while I am sitting there trying to enjoy one of the greatest TV series ever created, or what I like to call a 'Shakespearianesque drama'. Especially when it is on on a monday afternoon after I have had a tiring weekend, and even more especially when it is one of my favourite ever Macgyver episodes 'Trumbo's World' AKA the one set in Brazilian Amazonia where massed colonies of billions of soldier ants take out anything in their path including humans, cattle, trees and whatever. It is totally awe inspiring and in M.H.O (my humble opinion) the best Macgyver episode ever to air - (not including any episodes which has the international assassin 'Murdoc' in them - Macgyver's nemesis. For these always work out to be the best episodes by a county mile).
this is him below looking totally awesome and reasonably evil.

But I digress, the point is, when I am trying to get in the zone and soak up some culture, I don't need the Stomper giving me a bad buzz or any 'heat'. So this is why it is good that my brother gets out there and runs, and achieves, and levels the balance of the universe inside this little house we all live in, because I would do it for him if i could run. Also he owes me because the last time I stuck up for him in front of the Stomper we were both punished and had to carry bits of wood from the yard down into the bush at 8:45 at night. Which was admittedly, pretty annoying.
Soon after the Macgyver incident, where i was sent to my room anyway, I got the aforementioned dose of the 'common'. That is short for the common cold, in case you are total idiot who didn't pick up on that.
My 'common' was quite mild, but the Stomper insisted that I would stay in my room until my brother left for Wellington 3 days later. I was allowed out to use the bathroom, but only if I took bacterial wipes with me to wipe down all surfaces around the taps and door handles, and even though she didn't say it, I knew she would prefer if i held my breath on my way down the hallway.
My meals were brought to me in my room and usually passed through as small a crack as possible, and I was told 'we must keep you contaminated', even though i'm pretty sure she meant 'quarantined'.
I think the 'Pièce de résistance' of this whole caper was when my brother came to the door of my room wearing a doctors or 'sars' mask to give me a glass of berocca sent from the Stomper in a bid to speed up my recovery.
The door opened a minimal crack and his hand placed the fizzing cup on the table and then withdrew, still peering in.
'Drink it' he said to me in a muffled SARS mask wearing voice.
'What the hell are you wearing on your face?'
'A SARS mask'
'Where did you get that from?'
'Don't talk to me you're contaminated'
'Seriously, did mum get you that to wear around me?'
'Correct.'
I laughed uncontrollably for around one minute and could tell he was also smirking at the hilarity of the situation under his SARS mask.
'You look like a real idiot with that thing on you know'
'Yeah well at least I am not confined to a room with AIDS or Ebola or whatever the hell it is you have got.'

'It is the common'
'Yeah well you are starting to remind me of the weird albino from Benchwarmers who is afraid to leave the house.'
'Yeah well tell the Stomper to either a) let me out of the room, or b) lend me the car so I can go somewhere.'
'She won't lend you the car for fear of contamination, I don't blame her really. Why don't you get out of the house on roller blades like you used to in the 90s?'
'Yeah well mum probably gave my blades away to a chinese family around the road like she did with all my toys.'
'Drink the berrocca. And don't talk to me. You're contaminated. Night'
'Night'
I did drink the Berrocca. And it kept me awake until around 4am, but I didn't really care because I had plenty to do between reading the Motley Crue autobiography, ringing the Guthy Renker infomercials call free number, and looking on the internet every now and then to see if there had been any new animal faceoff battles loaded up on youtube.

Mountain Lion in the back yard.

2010-03-17T21:18:00.000-07:00

This may sound stupid however I am pretty sure there is some form of Mountain Lion in the back yard of my house. Well my parents house, I am living at home currently in the spare bedroom, but plan to definately be out of here by the time I am 30 come next january. God willing.
Either way, nobody wants to hear a mountain lion as they are trying to drift off to sleep whether it is at THEIR home OR their parents home, and as there is some pretty unsettling growling going on which is louder than any I have heard in recent weeks it leads me to the conclusion that we may have a pretty hungry animal on our hands. Also there is a full moon out which makes beasts from the wilderness and the Kepa road bush more likely to roam into neighbouring properties. I assume.
Because of the tone and vocal timbre of the growl I am leaning towards a cougar or a catamont at this point,

but it could just as easily be a jaguar, puma or lynx. (note the picture below this jaguar looking like a gremlin)

Either way, I am not flippen going out there as I don't feel like having my face bitten off or my stomach ripped open by some mountain lions hind legs. Odds are though that would probably not ever happen to me personally as one day when I was bored i spent about two hours researching what to do in the unlikely event of a mountain lion attack and I feel reasonably 'well read' on the topic. if you have even gotten this far reading this mindless crud I am talking about, you are probably also curious about how to not get killed by a mountain lion, so I will try and summarise some tips to the best of my knowledge and feeble memory.

I think the most important point and first step is to never go hiking alone in areas where there is usually deer but for some reason now there isn't. This means that there will be mountain lions hanging around there waiting for the deer, but probably quite hungry as there are none there to eat. This makes you a target and the mountain lion first to spot you will probably think 'Jackpot! This jerk is moving a lot slower than the usual prey'.
Another key point to note is that mountain lions are more attracted to children as a target as opposed to adults. One theory on this is their size and the fact the animal can take the child and easily carry it away like they do with small prey. So it is a good idea if you are hiking through cougar country to go with a kid which you can use as a diversion and buy you some time as to get away. It is preferable that the kid is not yours and not one that you are overly attached to as a friend or overly responsible for the well being of.
Point number 3, maybe the most important:
If indeed you are attacked by an animal in the wild, report this attack to Fish and Game, or the Ranger in the area as soon as possible. I can only assume that they are referring to making a report after the attack occurs as it might be quite hard to get your cellphone out, call directory and then transfer to Fish and Game or the Ranger to tell them about it when you are in the middle of being attacked. Also if the mountain lion is growling or eating you at the time, odds are the ranger will probably not be able to hear you very well. And don't forget, you could be out of cellphone range. So probably better to just try and defend yourself with a bit of metal or something similar and then make the call afterwards if by chance you make it out alive.
That is about all i can remember, however if i were to add my own 'two cents' i would say always travel with bacon, because not only is it a delicious snack which is pocket size and nutritious, it is also the candy of meats and likely to be a good distraction for a mountain lion if you were to throw it towards them, do a side step and high tail it for the woods. Which is what I would do if I had run out of kids.
By the way if anyone reads this and thinks 'that idiot, there are no mountain lions in New Zealand', then i can only assume that you did not watch the 60 minutes documentary about the mysterious giant black cat that was roaming around the south island with various sitings. So therefore you are now the idiot for not keeping up with current affairs.

my dream about the helicopter with machine guns on the blades. BEWARE: this is a pretty cool invention

2010-03-15T01:36:00.000-07:00

The next day was a sunday and it felt like I had awoken from the most amazing slumber of my life. It was the first time I had been to bed before eleven in about two years and I slept through till 11 the following morning. There were clean sheets, puffy pillows and enough room to spreadeagle across the bed without that stinking pig Kenny Powers trying to take up half the room for once. I had remembered my dream, and it was the first thing I thought of when I woke up. I began to regale it as I stared out the window looking at the clothesline.

In the dream (which may possibly have been a prophecy as it was quite vivid) Kenny Powers and I were in the midst of the ultimate world war to end world wars, in the thick of battle and rapidly losing ground and human beings beside us in the dirt. The enemy was being lead by a dark emperor who held the key to the winning or losing of the war. Rumours had circulated amongst the rebels (us and others) that the only way the war could be won was if the emperor was destroyed. Some people said the only way to kill him would be by having his head cut off, but we put that down to Chinese Whispers and thought that any normal death would suffice.
The rebel leader and his closest advisors were lacking ideas as to how to get close enough to the emperor to destroy him, and Kenny Powers and I swallowed our pride and approached the war council with an idea.
'Hello Mike, I am Reuben, this is my pig, Kenny Powers. We have thought of a way to get into the Emperors fortress to destroy him. Essentially I have always fantasised about having a helicopter with machine guns on all the blades, it would wipe out anything in its path on a 360 degree radius. if we could paint one of our helicopters with the dark emperors colours then we could get close enough to his fortress to turn the machine guns on (automatically) and wipe out all his closest advisors and then the dark emperor himself. If you think this is a stupid idea then just tell us and we will not go through with it.'
'No' said Mike 'I think you should go for it,' and shook my hand and patted Kenny Powers on the flank.
And that was the end of the dream.It got me to thinking about helicopters with machine guns attached to all the blades, and made me realise how amazing a weapon that would be in war. I made a mental note to myself to to keep the idea a secret until New Zealand is invaded and then to help out defeat the invaders with my amazing idea. I would no doubt be considered a war hero and when it was time for me to collect my medal from the Prime Minister I would not make a speech but would stand up on the podium and put my fist out in the air with a black glove on it in the same way that the black panthers did in the 70s.

Then everyone would know that I am all about revolution and other things like that. I would also have Kenny Powers standing to my left wearing dark glasses and a black beret. It would be a great photo opportunity no doubt.
I go through periods i guess of thinking about war and then not thinking about war.
One thing i think about war is that I dont like how the guy second from the right in the top row of this picture is a) pulling that face and b) holding his finger on the gun a little bit like the Penguin from Batman.

However there was something about the song Ohio by Crosby Stills Nash and Young that would always make me think of what it would be like to get asked to go to war by some idiot who I had never met. I sure would be angry if I was made to, because I know how terrible at war I would be. Mainly because I have bad aim but also my flat feet would really make all the walking get on my nerves, because you are forced to walk not only in war, but in all the training and camps you are expected to go to. I can only assume I wouldn't sleep especially well in ratty tatty bunks or in trenches while gunfire is going off and there is also the fact that I am not so keen on killing strangers who have never really done anything to me, and who do not appear anywhere on my 'Top 5 Kill List' (which is due to be updated in the next month or so). Therefore war sounds like something that would be exceptionally annoying and also pretty boring. I thank god on high that I never agreed to go to the army when my dad suggested that it would be a good way to pay for university. I probably would not have gotten away with all the pot smoking that university led me to, but I also may have not gotten away with coming out alive.

new plymouth and a couple of other things. like the woman with the horn etc..

2010-03-12T15:23:00.000-08:00

It was pretty amazing to wake up earlier than usual and hear on the radio that someone from America had turned 101 and also had begun to grow another horn out her head. The lady had been growing a single horn for a few years which had got to about six centimetres, but soon after her 101st birthday she had discovered a new horn growing on the other side of her head. The radio also said she 'liked spending time with her family' which I found pretty relevant to the fact that she had horns.
When in Rome i guess.
I was in a taxi at the time with some of the guys from the band. The taxi driver had George FM on which is an Auckland dance station and pretty soon after the horn story we got some techno 'beats'. I made a crack about how it felt like we were going to the airport to fly out to Ibiza but nobody really laughed so I ignored those jerks and started looking at the back of the taxi drivers head for a little while. After a while that got pretty boring so I mucked around on the game i have on my phone.
I am currently sitting on the plane to New Plymouth. It is a smaller plane than you might usually travel on and really feels like one that Lynard Skynard may have gone down in on that fateful day where their plane crashed and most of them died, but one didnt, and kept the band going. That would never happen with us. Felix and Rob are not on the plane, so Felix would concentrate on his fantasy metal side project Star Control. I dont know what Rob would do. If we make it through this flight I will text him about it.

The lady in front of me just looked around and gave me the evil eye as I accidentally bumped her chair while readjusting my jeans. I felt like saying 'What the heck are you looking at Woozel Gummidge?' as she kind of looks like a scarecrow who would eat sausages on A.D.B (A Daily Basis). Fingers crossed this will be the last time I see her.

Yesterday we met up with a friend of ours who looks exactly like Chris Cornell from Soundgarden. We told him that we were spending a few days in Las Vegas on the way back to Europe in April and he told us that his Dad lived there and could take us around to look at some of the local crud that wasn't casinos or strip joints. My first gut feeling was to ask him if thought he might know any sites where all the mobsters buried the bodies of other mobsters and if we could go out there and drink beers, but then i figured I would wait till we got to Vegas to see if Chris Cornell's dad might be ok to ask questions like that.
My aim in Vegas is to mainly be a combination between
a) the fat samoan lawyer with all the drugs from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
and
b) the fat bearded guy from The Hangover who is a little bit tweaked out in the brain

Now i am back in AUckland and i just freaked out because the cat came in the damn room. I looked around and there it was staring at me.
I am not even sure if I like this cat that lives here, but who cares i guess, its not like we hang around all the time.

I must say there is something quite good about New Plymouth, apart from the drunk woman who barrelled along, demanded to sit at our table then called me a jehovah's witness, Sam a russian sailor and told Ede he had shit hair. I told her to 'get stuffed' when she asked me to kiss her hand as I was leaving. She kissed Sam's hand and he wiped it on my arm which (indirectly) totally made me feel like tripping her over.
She was really keen to go and see 'Anita Moa' who was on the night before us.
I didnt even bother explaining that her name was Anika as this woman was so drunk and probably didnt want to be corrected from a drinking, smoking, swearing Jehovah's Witness like me.

My favourite part about New Plymouth is the hotel owner Tony who takes you for a swim to the beach when you cant be bothered walking and also how the seagulls obey you if you have hot chips.

There was around 50 of them sitting in front of us while we were eating our dinner by the ocean... Sam said 'Jump to the left if you believe in satan!' and threw a chip to the left and they all went for it. So essentially, if you didnt see the chip it would have looked like they all believed in satan. You really had to be there.
i am procrastinating. i just watched a karate movie and feel like learning karate. Actually thats a lie, i feel like not having to learn karate , but to immedietley have the powers of a black belt without having to put all the training and hard work in. All i know is that getting karated to the face looks totally painful and also that all chinese villains in karate movies must hav bald hair on top, long hair on the sides, be skinny and have a wispy moustache. That is just what i have noticed lately.
Anyway, i can smell hot cross buns so i am going to walk up the street and figure out which house its coming from and stand around outside for a bit.

some crud about our tour.

2010-03-03T13:18:00.000-08:00

Hello Anyone out there, i just thought i would write with an email to
tell you all about our exciting tour and about L.I.G (life in
general).
I am currently sitting in a lounge in Onekaka, Golden Bay. it is at
the beach and Sam and I just went swimming together with our matching
'High School Musical 2' towels. He was also wearing his new (second
hand) pink togs which really are a sight to behold. So essentially, we
looked pretty good as some kind of batty tourist couple, which is not
such a big deal.
Yesterday we played a festival called 'Illuminate' on the old
'Gathering' site. There was lots of tie die, incense, lentils, fire
dancing and other crud like that.
It was safe to say that I did not quite fit in walking around in the
evening wearing my three tits t-shirt under my long black trench coat,
but noone really said anything. As the moon was full, pretty much
everyone was too busy ululating to 'dub beats' and feeling each
other's 'energy' etc.

I walked around with a bottle of boysenberry cider looking for a good
stick as we were after all up in the woods. I didn't find anything but
managed to make hard out eye contact with a dog wearing a red bandana
under the full moon. I quickly wondered if dogs turn skitzy under the
full moon and attack humans like werewolves do, but he just walked
off. So then I walked off.
When we actually played our show the crowd was great. Heaps of the
women had their eyes closed and were doing all kinds of 'tripped out'
dancing and really getting into it.

One woman actually looked like
some crazy old witch who would cook children in a big boiling pot. I
made eye contact with her once and almost pissed my pants with fear.
Halfway through our show one of the power amplifiers started smoking
and there was a power surge and the whole system shut down. We had to
go off stage for 15 minutes while the crew fixed it up. But then we
came back on and played a few more songs before that witch woman
closed the festival with about ten minutes banging on a big gong and
opening her arms to the sky.

I looked around to pull a face at Felix as if to say 'What the fuck is
going on here?' but got busted by what looked to be one of the head
hippies pulling the face. It was awkward. I will not be surprised if
some form of voodoo has been put on me for pulling that face about the
Gong Witch. Hopefully not thou seeing Ede from my band pretty much
knew everyone up on that hill, and he will hopefully rebalance the
'kharma' or 'universe' or something similar.
this is why..

We had an amazing stage manager, a very nice lady by the name of Tina.
She had one arm and one stump. When we all had a group hug with her
after the show I was first into the hug and then when everyone
enclosed around us her stump was sticking into my back. It was pretty
annoying as it was kind of sharp. I tried to break the hug up, but
everyone was trying to extend it, so I had to hang in there a bit
longer.
We left yesterday afternoon and left Rob from my band up on the hill
hanging around fullfilling the prophecy of his nick name 'Star Child'.
No doubt he will be participating in drum circles, taking MDMA and
making love under the stars. He better be in Takaka on time for our
gig tonight or he's dead meat.
Then tomorrow we go to Kaikoura. I will try and get a whale. And a
stick off the beach.
The other shows on the tour have been a) excellent or b) pretty
mediocre.
Leigh, Raglan, Paekakariki, Levin and Camp A Low Hum were all such fun.
Even though we were a day late to Camp A Low Hum due to either my poor
management or Blink from Camp A Low Hum providing me the wrong day. I
somehow thing it may have been my fault.
Napier was super quiet and Wellington was also less than expected,
although we did get to play with a band i consider to be the best band
in the country Beastwars. You should look them up on the internet.
Also it was my birthday that night and things got a little crazy.
Sam and I missed the ferry from Wellington to Picton but managed to
squeeze onto the following ferry. Seats were tight but we managed to
get two seats facing the kids playground. Once again my trench coat
was not necessarily the best choice of wardrobe for that particular
time. But it went well with my dark glasses, and there were no
complaints.

Anyway, as per usual I am totally rambling. With no real point or
purpose. If anyone sees my mum tell her I will be home on monday and
that if possible it would be nice to not have to answer 40 million
questions upon arrival as I will be quite tired.

Hope everyone is pretty good. Love reuben.

MORE ON KENNY POWERS THE PIG ETC

2009-11-24T18:13:00.000-08:00

MORE ON KENNY POWERS THE PIG ETC

Kenny Powers the pig has really started taking after me in all manners of life. Not only does he like looking on the internet frequently when I have it open on the computer, but he has also begun spending around 20-25 minutes a day looking out the window and thinking about life, love and the universe. Which is what I tend to do. It makes my heart swell to know that he is learning life lessons from me and I feel that I am not only a good role model to him day by day, but also probably someone who he considers a 'father figure'. This is hugely important in M.H.O (my humble opinion) seeing Kenny Powers was an orphan piglet. I probably now consider him my best friend and often wonder how my future bride will feel when I tell her that at our wedding Kenny Powers the pig will stand beside me in the church as we take our vows. I think he would look excellent in a suit jacket, top hat and cumberbun and I know he would, unlike some animals who hate wearing human clothes, feel totally at ease up there on the podium looking dapper. Especially if i could also somehow train him to wear a monocle. But that is a challenge for another day.
And of course, as usual, I am getting ahead of myself, I don't even have a girlfriend anymore, let alone someone who will marry an unemployed musician who is trying to win a Guinness World Record with a pig. But there is always hope in this crazy world we live in. And you have to hold on to hope. Or you may as well be dead. But if you are really rich, you are not required to hold on to hope as much, or as often, as money will buy you a lot of the crud that you would probably had only hoped for when you were poor.

I have a sinking and strange feeling that I am either a) really started starting to lose my mind properly this time or b) am slowly but surely somehow magically syncing up telepathically with Kenny Powers the pig. The thought of this may seem slightly far fetched, but when you think about it in context we have now spent almost every waking moment together since I picked him up from the post office and I would essentially say that he and I know each other probably as well as pig and man could. And as far as I know, it is not unheard of to telepathically be connected to someone when you spend extended periods of time together, eg Tony and Barry Chesterman, the identical twins from my boarding school.

My Brother etc.

2009-11-24T17:41:00.001-08:00

I often think of my little brother when I am travelling. Hoping he is getting on ok. There is an age gap between us of 13 years. I am 28, he is 15. He was born the day that Kurt Cobain died. Everyone was running around school emotional and yelling 'KURT's DEADDDDDD! ARGGGGGHHHH' . And listening to Nirvana really painfully loud in the boarding house.
Even the housemasters weren't telling us to turn it down.
I was as much of a fan as everyone else, if not more. But still i kept yelling out 'SHUT IT! I have a brother!'
It sure was a sad and grand day all in one though. My mum sent me a photo of him in the post. He looked like a boiled chicken. But is now a striking young man.
Anyway we just discovered that we are both capable of chatting to each other on the computer.
Ben: 'Hey homo how is it going?'
me: 'Good thanks gaylord. What going on in that shithole freezing NZ winter?
'Just doing a homo assignment on terrorism'
'Cool.'
'Seeya'
'Later'

Tsunami Warning

2009-10-24T17:44:00.000-07:00

I had been back in Berlin for two days lying around in bed relaxing, listening to Serge Gainsbourg, and researching Minotaurs on the internet when there was another tsunami warning back in New Zealand. I didn't really know how to take it as usually when New Zealand receives a tsunami warning our local beach at Mission Bay, Auckland (New Zealand, The World, The Solar System, The Milky Way, beyond the Milky Way, The Greater Cosmos The Universe, Infinity) will get a 20cm wave headed towards it at a rate of around 1 knot per decade. Everyone is encouraged to stay very clear of boats and beaches alike, just on the off chance one day there actually will be a real tsunami; one that could bestow destruction etc on Auckland City. Either way, I was in Europe and how the hell was I going to be able to tell when and what was going to happen. Naturally I wanted my family to be safe so I emailed my brother and told him to get the hell away from the coast or I would kill him.
He emailed back saying
'You are not the boss of me fatty. P.S. Don't forget to bring me back some DVDs from Berlin and don't forget that I have now got the big room so when you come back to stay you have to go in the little room, but there is a tv in there and you can use my old nintendo Game cube. I have sold most of the games on Trademe but Tiger Woods golf is still there. By the way, I will beat you at that game any day of the week. And also Mum said to tell you that we are well away from the coast but between you and I, I am thinking about sneaking out of the house and then texting her to say 'Hey, just gone down to Mission Bay to play hackey with some mates, be home later'. She would go ballistic and I could sneak back inside and film it on my phone and put it on youtube under 'Tsunami Warning turns old woman into crazed maniac'. See ya. P.P.S How is that pig of yours? Does it take a shit inside or what? Mum said that you are not allowed to keep it in the house and has been looking into farm stays for you to keep it at. I don't really care either way, except if it does a shit in my room, then I will be pissed off and probably kick it in the guts. Seeya

I am pretty proud to say that my brother is actually turning into a pretty funny kid, and I had a good feeling about coming home for the summer as to the amount of pranks we could play on my mum. Life was good.
I then also emailed my crazed fanatical accountant friend Gza to tell him to go and get an ice cream at Movenpick in Mission Bay because of the impending wave, as this would be his best chance at an 'easy way out'. I was referring to an easy way out of life, as he has been talking about wanting to die since the late 90's/ early millenium period when he was working at Kelly Tarlton's Underwater World as the penguin cleaner.
He agreed via email that this tsunami was in fact the perfect opportunity to be relieved from life but that he wanted to 'go out on a high' and decided the best way to do it would be to get a machine gun and head to the beach to 'shoot bullets at the wave' with a strategy of:
a) holding the gun in one arm like rambo
b) yelling out 'You call this a storm?' at God or whomever had sent the tsunami
c) clad in camouflage undergarments and his girlfriend Anna's house slippers
d) having a back up Samarai Sword to swing towards the wave at the final seconds in case the automatic mechanism on the gun jammed due to salt in the air

The picture he painted in my head made me smile internally, as the thought of Gza swinging a Samarai sword in his undies at an impending monster wave at a deserted yet picturesque inner city beach really was a scenario that dreams were made of.

On the off chance that a catastrophic sized tsunami was avoided and the usual 20cm piddler was on its way, this picture was just as good, If not better. As I visualised the moment where he realised that the tsunami had already hit, and the look of defeat on his face as he packed up his weapons to walk back to the car, put them in the back, and go back to work. Which would no doubt involve some form of excel spreadsheets on Profit and Loss and/or quarterly reports. It really was win win to be honest. Well for me anyway.

Paris then HOME

2009-09-25T17:42:00.000-07:00

We had finished our London shows and toasted the night several times with friends and allies who lived there amongst the sprawling boroughs and rows of identical houses. The shows we played were nothing to write home about (not that I ever wrote home as my parents think of me as emotionally self sufficient and I am pretty much banished from all family trips), but the shows were essentially pretty lame. The pay was crap, the turnout was poor and I personally felt we had overstayed our welcome in what we collectively considered to be the most soul sucking city on the planet. It wasn't that our guests wanted us out, on the contrary, but the way we had been living on tour with a ten Euro a day budget each and the reliance on hospitality from venues and club promotors to make 3 meals a day happen, didn't really fit with the sinister and unwelcoming London music scene we were only semi involved with. Basically every promoter and venue owner in London can go jump in the lake and hang round treading water until they get eaten by a massive sea monster for all I care. Except Tim from the Brixton Windmill, who was really nice, and reminded me of some kind of IRA freedom fighter with rotten teeth and thick black rimmed glasses that made his eyes seem unsettlingly large. The Brixton Windmill also had a flat roof, on which lived a giant Rottweiler called Roofdog who would pace up and down and look at you while you were outside smoking and, I can only assume, was there to ward off bad humans and burglars alike after midnight. Roofdog and Tim were solid but everyone else to do with music in London can get two fingers up the butt from a giant as far as I am concerned.
After playing tuesday, wednesday and thursday night we woke early on a grey friday morning and got into Jim The Eagle our trusty van to head towards Paris. Most of the guys had not been before, and even though Rob, Sam and I had, we were pretty excited to get back there because there is lots to look forward to like baguettes and babes and historical crud.
The band were going to stay one night and drive back to Berlin the next day while I was going to stay on for a few more and fly home on the Tuesday by myself. I thought it was a good chance to get the hell away from my band for about two seconds and also the idea of taking in some culture to soak up didn't totally make me want to puke when it was in reference to Paris, which I think is the most beautiful city in the world. Well, that I have visited anyway.
On the drive down after we had caught the ferry from Dover to Bolougne I had a quick round of 'What's In My Pie?' with Sam and Reyahn - this time it was a rhinoceros and a sleeping bag - but then I went back to mucking round on my computer. I was busy concocting a list of things I could still do with my life if I got struck by lightning and went blind and deaf at exactly the same time. Part of me is always wary of this happening, and I feel it is sensible to have a list stored somewhere so that I don't spend a long time wallowing about it, but can get straight back on with my life if it were to happen.
I got quite far and in little over an hour had a list of around forty things. I was keen to get up to 52 initially so I had one thing a week to do already preplanned for the first year I was without sight and hearing. Some of the highlights were:
a)Stand at pedestrian crossings and hold my finger underneath the blind persons pole to get the electric shock that tells you to cross
b) Be a waiter at the restaurant in Berlin which is totally pitch black and has blind people as waiters. Actually, I just realised that I probably would not be very good at that if I was deaf to be honest. I will take that off the list.
c) Go bike riding in a big empty field
d) Go motor bike riding in a big empty field
e) Do pressups, situps and other fitness
f) Have sex with anyone I want without ever feeling like I am not physically attracted to them
g) Sit around in women's sections of changing rooms or saunas without ever having to feel like I am perving on them or eavesdropping on their conversation

Anyway, that is just the tip of the iceberg. I was probably better off making a list of the things i COULD'NT do, as it would be much smaller.
Listening to music and looking out the window would have to be added to the list, and I would no doubt have to hire someone to help me look after Kenny Powers the pig and complete his training to go for the Guinness World book of records record. That would be hugely disappointing. Anyway, I don't like thinking about what I could'nt do if I was made blind and deaf by lightning as it is a real downer, so I will continue to focus on the list of things I could do, because as far as I see it, the glass is still half full. When in Rome. I was happy where the list was at by the time we rolled in to the outer suburbs of Paris, they were dirtier than I remember but I didn't really give a flying crap as the sun was out and the rest of the band were busy looking out the windows so I didn't have to listen to a bunch of senseless yabbering. I was glad not to be in charge of driving the tour van because French drivers are ferocious and there seems to be no lanes on any of the roundabouts. Sam was driving who is pretty much blind, Paris is pretty much the most dangerous city in Europe to drive in, it was an amazing combination. I didn't really care, I have been ready to get taken out in traffic since I was 15. I was resigned to the fact I would die being hit by a bus or something of the like. So I just didn't care, I was in Paris, home of baguettes and chocolate stuffed croissants.
There is essentially nowhere in the world that I have ever seen which is as good looking as Paris and combining that with the amount of absolute crack pot crazy homeless people walking around yelling out crud, you have got a pretty good mix of the best elements that a city should have. It always warms my heart when I look around to see a bunch of people who are lot further down the crazy path than I am because As far as I know, I have been losing my mind for just over a decade.

Kenny Powers (the pig)

2009-09-01T18:01:00.000-07:00

Kenny Powers has not been eating that much that stupid pig. He is possibly homesick, which is quite understandable. But anyway he needs to get his strength up that idiot. I have stopped eating bacon lately out of respect to him, so the least he can do is eat his nutri grains and normal grains and also his carbo shots that i put in his water bowl. Maybe he has growing pains. He has grown a lot even in the last two weeks. He seems pretty happy when we walk around Berlin and hang round in the park, however it has been hard finding anyone else with a pig that we can make friends with. I now know what it is like for people with kids who try and make friends with other people with kids, except it is even harder with a pig. I am considering taking us out to the country on the train to find an area with more pigs around.
Felix and Sam's moving business is pretty much taking off so that is pretty good. Pretty soon they will need to get an office and maybe even t-shirts made up. I have still yet to be offered to take on a moving job for them. But I am not pissed off or anything. In fact I am pretty happy just cruising around with Kenny Powers for now. I hope he doesn't grow so big that he will not fit in the basket on the back of Trent (my awesome bike).
When we are cruising the streets together like partners in crime I often daydream about how if I was rich I would buy a motorbike with a sidecar and cruise round the town with Kenny Powers sitting beside me wearing a leather pilots hats and sweet goggles. Pretty sure I would be 10 out of 10 irresistable to any babe that made eye contact with me or KP. I then wonder if KP is thinking something along similar lines.
Today we had to return some camera equipment back to a hire place about 5km away. It was part of my job for the day working as a runner on a fashion shoot. It was actually one of the only things I did except eat bagels and drink cokes. I also looked out the window quite a bit, which I am getting more and more addicted to.
Anyway, the lady who had hired this crap, I believe it was a silver reflective thing which you shine on the subject of the photo, gave me directions to the hire place. Just when I thought it was going to be pretty simple to find and I had my head around my route she said 'You can't miss it.'
YOU. CAN'T. MISS. IT. Can't I? Are you absolutely sure on this? NO. You CAN miss it.
She may as well have hexed the directions with 'May Satan speed you towards an unknown destination blind through the black night on a dark steed of doom.'
Because as soon as someone ends directions with 'You can't miss it' there is usually some characteristic about this destination that will make you miss it. And nine times out of ten you WILL miss it. And then have to turn back around, or stop, and call the idiot who told you you can't miss it and then talk about landmarks and if you have passed a certain T junction in the road or whatever.
Well guess what?
I missed it. Luckily I was prepared for this and had written down the address on my arm previously. I went in to a shop and the woman behind the counter knew where it was. And as I didn't understand all the dynamics of their German, even if they had tried to say 'You can't miss it' i was protected by the curse from not understanding that particular phrase in German.
However, I did cast my own curse on the lady who had sent me on my errand. And her future bloodline. After we dropped it off I didn't even return back to work. Me and Kenny decided to go hang out down by the river and just chill, as it was a nice evening.

I'm Seriously Thinking Of Getting A Pig.

2009-08-28T05:34:00.000-07:00

Hi Kenny Powers (and others)

I have recently gained information that David Hasselhoff's popularity
in Germany is grossly overexaggerated.I found this slightly depressing
but I am not dwelling on it. I think I was made to feel better when my
friend borrowed a book from another friend and found a picture of
David Hasselhoff in his underwear as a bookmark. If that is not the
sign of popularity then I don't know what is. I stared at the bookmark
for a little while as he has wonderfully shaped thighs.

Anyway what news... some news, I went out for an evening the other
night in a different part of town
and by the time I had finished dinner with some German people I hardly
knew or liked I was pretty exhausted and decided on some 'me' time. I
didn't want to have to be purposefully nice to someone, or pretend I
was having a good time. All I wanted to do was get into my 'chill
zone'.
I went home immedietly and stopped via Gorlitzer park to buy some weed
off the radical and friendliest drug dealers you have ever met in your
life. That made me feel like I was their friend, however I have not
seen them since to be able to tell whether they are actually my
friends or not.
I got home, smoked the weed, got bored and decided to do something
productive. As I hadn't contacted my friend Jiz in a while I thought I
would be able to trick him into thinking I would only be contacting
him for something very important.
I wrote him an email with URGENT as the subject heading, with lots of
exclamation marks, which he hates.
In the text body I wrote: you're a gay.

I knew it would be effective.
he emailed back:

That was awesome - I've had a headache for about 5 days and suddenly it
left cause I thought something rad had happended. Eg a bomb went off in
Europe and I had 30 seconds to live

James Martin
Finance Manager
School of Medical Sciences
School of Pharmacy
The University of Auckland
Phone: xx xxxxx
Ext: xx xxxx

That was one of the highlights of the past month or so.
I have also been having a lot of trouble lately trying to remember
which relatives of mine are dead or not. I have real trouble with
Great Aunts and Uncles. When I was writing to my Poppa the other day I
had to leave out the sentence 'How is Uncle Jimmy?' because I am
pretty sure he is dead, but I am too embarrassed to ask anyone.
Actually my cousin Nina would tell me, I will ask her. I would ask my
brother but the conversation would probably go like this. R stands for
me
R: 'Hi it's me.'
'Hi'
R: 'What are you doing?'
'Nothing.'
R: 'Oh yeah. Is Uncle Jimmy alive or dead?'
'Who is Uncle Jimmy?'
R: 'Our great uncle. poppa's brother.'
'Is he the one with the stump from cutting off his finger with a chainsaw?'
R: 'No, that is Euan. Who is on the other side of the family and is
not actually even in the family but just hangs round so he can play
croquet.'
'Well who is Uncle Jimmy?'
R: 'He is the one who gives you a meat pie if you go and visit him.'
'I think he must be dead because I don't ever remember getting given a
meat pie by any old people.'
R: 'Ok well, i am not going to risk it just because you can't remember
getting a meat pie from someone. Thanks for your help thou.'
'That's ok. When are you coming home from Belgium or whatever?'
R: 'Berlin. In November.'
'Well I have taken over your old room at home, so you cant stay in there.'
R: 'ok'
'Also, bring me some DVDs if you can.'
R: 'Yeah ok.'
'Ok seeya.'
R: 'Bye'

Anyway, I am pretty sure he is dead. Which is sad. As he was (is) pretty cool.
Also, I have been thinking a lot about family, mainly the fact that so
many people have an Aunty Sue. Please let me know if you have an Aunty
Sue, please reply, it is important to me.
I was once in a room with around 11 people and of those 11, 9 people
either had an Aunty Sue or their mother was called Sue. So, all i can
say is that if you don't have an Aunty you are the exception, not the
norm.

It was pretty good the other day when I asked Sam and Felix where they
were going as they left the house and they said
'Going to move a coffin.'
I said 'Oh yeah'
I was a bit thrown off and forgot to ask them to get me a spinach
thing from the bakery. Which did not bode well for later when I was
starved. But the main thing is that they now have income, and possible
ongoing work. So they can afford to stay in Berlin. I also have
ongoing work. However not moving coffins per say.
Sam put an advert on a website saying we had a van and people to help
move crap around the city. The response was immense. Musical equipment
to be moved here, a coffin to be moved there, I almost suggested that
they get some business cards made up, however, don't want to jinx a
project in it's infancy.
On one side of the coin it was surprising for Sam and Lix to arrive to
picking up a coffin, on the other it would be quite a surprise for
someone who calls up an advertised number for moving people-and lo and
behold i bet they never guessed the two 'movers' turn out to be a 6
foot lanky guy wearing a beret and looking like he could be a dior
homme model, and a five foot eight part asian classical violinist in a
velvet jacket. hmmm. now whats weird about that again?
In other news I think Felix, AKA Lix 'Lickety Splitz' Lun may have
found a potential guitarist for Star Control, his power metal side
project band. But I dont have any further details. I do have details
on what not to do if you are booking gigs in France thou. Basically if
you ever trying to book shows in France and you get given someone's
email address whose name is Pascal, do not immedietly assume that they
are a girl, and definately dont say something like 'hope you ladies
can help us!'
Because you will most probably get a reply like this:

hi Reuben,
You are way too late to find shows in September over here
By the way, I am not a lady.
take care, Pascal

I wanted to respond by saying, and I quote

Dear Pascal, thanks for nothing. Yours Sincerely, R.P Bonner
p.s In New Zealand there are no guys called Pascal, are you sure you
don't have your wires crossed? Maybe you are spelling it wrong?
p.p.s Are there any shows available in October on the off chance?

Anyway, what are the odds that Sam and Felix's first job in Berlin is
to move a coffin. i find that so humourous. However I also find the
drinking game September 11 pretty good while some people are likely
get offended, which I guess is fair enough. But, some people sure do
take things pretty seriously. Sometimes you have to try and lighten
the mood. That is why cops on murder scenes use what is referred to as
'black humour'. Doctor's also do this. Everyone learns that at school
anyway.
I may as well tell you about September 11th as it is a pretty good
game if you have had a few drinks and you just want to 'chill out'.
Essentially the object of the game is to rescue the Ginger, or whoever
else, is stuck in the twin towers.
Rules of the game
1. Shirts off, no exceptions
2. Get the Ginger (or whoever, but much better with the Ginger) to lie
on the ground.
3. Get every bit of furniture or thing in the room that can be moved
(including potplants, CDs, chairs, firewood, metal etc) and put it on
top of the Ginger
4. Go into the other room and have a shot of whiskey or something
5. Get someone to stand by the stereo and put on The Rising by Bruce
Springstein. Other Springstein songs are accepted but it must be
Springstein or dont even bother playing the game in the first place.
6. When the music starts assume the role of the NYC Fire Department
and come in to the lounge from the other room
7. Get that Ginger out of there at all costs. A.A.C (At All Costs)
8. Once he is out everyone embraces. The best thing then is to keep
the mood light by doing something classic like betting the Ginger that
he cant squeeze himself into the fridge.and then when he takes the
bait and actually squeezes in there, close the door and spin the
fridge around so the door is jammed up against the wall. This will
teach the Ginger a lesson for being a cheeky little Ginger.
9. Muck around for a couple more hours and then do another round of Sept 11th.
Anyway, when in Rome.

I have still not really done much sightseeing in Berlin. Sightseeing
to me has never been a huge interest. Except for the time I went to
the Eiffel Tower and sat at the bottom and smoked with Joe Gallagher
while my other friends climbed to the top for the view. I like views,
but find them to usually get boring after about 45 seconds, and then
everyone stands around the place where the view is saying 'wow isn't
the view amazing.' I agree for the first 45 seconds. But then when
people say it after about three minutes I never nod or agree because
by that stage I am pretty bored and don't want to encourage anyone.
Also, I especially don't like the awkward part where everyone is
actually ready to leave the view but nobody wants to be the first to
say anything, because then they are the person perceived as the one to
like the view or 'nature' or whatever, the least.
A good idea to compensate this is to take some food to eat at the
view, this way, you can leave once your food is finished and there is
no question as to whether or not you haven taken in enough 'view'.
The view from the top of the Skytower in Auckland is interesting for
about 25 seconds, and I must say that the most interesting thing about
that tower is that when The Strokes came to Auckland they referred to
it as the 'space needle'. My irish friend Dave doesn't like The
Strokes but he hardly likes anything so I am not too bothered.
Another update:
I am still unemployed:
My ideal situation would be one days work per six weeks. But any more
would most probably be a pain in the neck as I am trying to enjoy
myself over here and I don't know how the hell I am supposed to do
that if I spend the whole time working. Anyway, at least I am looking
after myself via multivitamins and eating lots of fruit. In fact I am
going now to eat an apple and throw the core somewhere near the
construction workers and hope that forty or fifty wasps are attracted
to it and end up stinging the construction workers on places like the
lip, the ballbag and the ball of their hand/foot, which is essentially
the hardest place on your body to scratch an itch. And any kind of
sting after it stops hurting will always itch.
There is one construction worker I do like however. I refer to him as
'The Yodeller' or 'Yellow Singlet' this is essentially because he
yodels and also wears a yellow singlet. The other day I had been up
all night and came home pretty out-of-it, I cycled past the site on my
bike Trent and heard him yodelling. I stopped, applauded and as I
leaned against the fence I was delighted to see him puff his chest out
with pride and bellow some more. It was a good moment. The sun was
out, I was about to hit a wall after being awake for 36 hours and some
guy in a yellow singlet was yodelling at me from a construction site I
had put numerous voodoo witch curses on. It inspired me to stay awake
some more and I stumbled upstairs to my third story apartment to get a
towel so I could go swimming at Badeschiff.
Badeschiff is a public pool situated in the river Spree. Picture a
river with a pool sitting in the middle of it. And then build some
balconies, a bar, and a fake beach and then you have Badeschiff. There
are lots of hot babes, beer, and sausages there. The boys toilets reek
pretty bad of spilt urine I must say, but other than that, it's pretty
good. On approaching the pool and having the obligatory ice cold
shower for hygiene purposes I was told by the female, massively
overtanned lifeguard that unfortunately my swimming togs were not
suitable to enter. In my obnoxious state I argued with the woman for
around ten minutes. I wanted into that god damn water and after she
still didnt let me in when I told her i was the nephew of the German
Grand Chancellor I walked away very slowly with as much venom as I
could exude. Every few steps I would look back over my shoulder and
narrow my eyes at the woman hoping she would feel my gaze and it would
somehow coincidentally cause her a sprained ankle. As I mentally and
emotionally placed her at the very top of my kill list I went and got
changed into a tight pair of black undies which actually looked more
like swimming togs than my actual togs do. I think I have already
mentioned how bad the men's toilets smell, and this time was no
exception. After my quick change I returned incognito and snuck into
the water unbeknownst to the Tanned Pool Dragon. As I lurked around
the pool I realised I was leading a pretty fulfilling life at this
point in time. Part of it was because I was still kind of high but
part of it is also there is something pretty special to be said about
being submerged in tepid water while plotting someone's demise.
Especially someone as annoying as the Tanned Pool Dragon.
At one point I started imagining a hugely oversized rubber band that I
would put her in to be pulled back as far as it could go before
releasing her to be catapulted hundreds of metres away upstream into
the Spree with flailing arms and hysterical bellowing. While I was
having this thought I accidentally made eye contact with her and then
slowly slunk underwater and bounced along the bottom, just like a
hippopotamus, which is essentially, my favourite animal.

Anyway, we have decided to come home for the NZ summer to tour and
generally muck around. I am looking forward to it. We are doing lots
of cool things. If anyone has a spare room where they wouldnt mind a
helpful house guest for any period of time at all, please let me know.
I am not really too keen on moving in to a flat as I will only be home
for about four months. I am happy for any part of the country and
would love to hang round. Anyway, that is by the by.

I better go anyway, i am seriously going to kill the guy on the drill
at Ground Zero (the construction site which is around 8 metres from
where I sleep). That guy needs to seriously SHUT IT.

Love reuben

p.s I now play the drums on one of the new An Emerald City songs, and
I look pretty much exactly like Lars Ulrich from Metallica when I get
on there. My drummer name is Beats Powers, or sometimes Cowbell
Powers, but usually Beats Powers.

fighting off the pig alien from my mind.

2009-07-24T09:08:00.001-07:00

Hello society of males of fe's.
I am writing to tell you that i have finished reading the BFG at
least. I had read it before when I was a kid about 5 times, but it is
nice to refresh. My favourite part is when the big giants chuck the
BFG around like a ball. It has inspired me to
a) write a book about giants
b) adopt an orphan (like the BFG does)
c) meet the Queen (like the BFG does)
d Have sex with the Queen
e) Have sex to a giant

I am now back in Berlin, and this email is old, but who gives a..
The.
Anyway, I got sidetracked. I arrived in Dubai ages ago. It is
seriously so flippen boiling here that I just about puked when i
walked out of the airport. And also it was at 10pm at night. Which is
not even the hottest time. I immedietly cursed the place and looked
around to try and find something classic to take my mind of the heat.
But there wasn't really anything, unless you count me muttering to
myself again. Which I have been doing quite a bit of lately. It is a
little bit like when I thought I was going crazy in 1998 and used to
tell my friends that I would go and live by the river and call myself
Old Man Bonner. I did quite a bit of muttering then actually.

Anyway, the heat. God. I am known to sweat quite a bit and have also
been referred to as 'The Sweat Pig' on a few occasions, well it was
this night that the prophecy really rang true. As I have a mutant face
with different coloured eyes, different sized nostrils and sweat
glands only working properly one one side, i usually tend to sweat on
one side of my face. Well not this time. I sweated pretty much
everywhere. By the way, Beads told me that odds are that I was a twin
in the womb and asorbed the other twin and that is why I have
different eyes and all that other crud. So, that is pretty much what I
have told everyone I have ever met who asks me about my eyes (or when
half my face goes red and half stays white when I play sports - which
is actually now never). Well when I told my eye doctor that story he
thought I was an idiot and told me that I actually have a syndrome.
But I have forgotten the name of it but it is something along the
lines of Butt-Pig eye syndrome or whatever.

Anyway, It was even too hot to smoke. But i still did, because I had
nothing to do an had already come outside and it was pretty boring.

Ra picked me up with her driver Shajeer. He has a rad Kenny Powers
haircut and very supple buttocks which suit his blue denims. But I
didn't actually figure this out that night because it was dark. I
figured it out one day when I was standing out on the road and he was
hanging round the van.
This is how i am trying to convince Felix AKA Lix Lun to grow his hair by the way

One morning I woke up in my undies only. And I was a bit freezing
because the blanket had been stolen off me. Also, my feet were
sticking over the edge of the bed and were touching a bunch of ratty
tatty power plugs which could have electrocuted me at any second. They
were the kind of plugs that any time you ever plugged something into
them you would see some form of blue spark. I have been electrocuted a
couple of times already. Once for taking a leak on an electric fence.
It had a pulse. Once Pounder was electrocuted at band practise because
of a faulty plug. We saw a blue spark shoot out the top of his head as
he threw his bass down and jumped on the bed. It was pretty funny.
Anyway, so I was awake, and in my undies and I cursed everyone in the
world because as I was thinking of my predicament and also how rubbish
my pillow was, the mosque next door started chanting through the
speakers and then a few dogs started barking. And then a loud
motorbike drove past. Pretty annoying.
At least I looked up on the wall and saw a photo of my Ra's friend
pashing her boyfriend down by the beach, and just beside that is a
photo of two dead seals hugging each other. Pretty poetic etc.

the

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9g92gdz-1g
This is one of the best scenes from one of my favourite movies ever.
Boyz In The Hood.
The reason why it is in my email because go to 3:47. The lane where
Ricky gets shot in this scene is exactly the same as the one by Ra's
house. So therefore tomorrow i am going out to get a gun or as they
call it in the hood 'getting tooled up'.

I am currently lying on Ra's friend Sophie's bed. I have not met her,
but it is quite comfortable and the sheet is very clean so I will not
complain.

Is it wrong for me to day dream about being this guy? Because I do.
Probably around 45-55 minutes a day
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjvZOh4OzBs

In Dubai, you can pretty much get any flavour of Juice you want. And
since I have been here, I have been trying all the Juices.
Here is a list of the Juices i have tried and a rating beside them.
They are packet Juices unless I say the word 'fresh' in front of them.
Just in case you didnt know, Juice is one of the things in my life
that I love.
Guava. 7.5
(Fresh) Rockmelon. 8.8
(Fresh) Mango. 9.6. This juice was so good it made me want to yell out
'Shut Your Fucking Face this is unreal.' to the waiter.
Youngberry 9
Secrets of The Valley 7
Hanepoot Grape 5.2
Ruby Red Grapefruit 3 (booooo! too sour)
(Fresh) Kiwifruit 8.9
(Fresh) Orange Juice (i am not a big fan of the saying OJ) 9.0 (some
of the best fresh orange juice around i think)
Pomegranate and Lime 8.5
Full Fruit Medley 6.7
Peach 8.8

So FYI, that is 12 diferent types of juices in about 12 days. Not bad really.

Anyway my holiday consisted of drinking juice, mucking around, and
sometimes at night I would slink down to the ocean to swim, but it was
too hot to really enjoy it. I guess you could compare it to having a
cigarette that was rolled too tight and when you inhale you would get
some smoke, but not the hit in the back of your throat.
Well going into the water in Dubai was like walking into a bowl of
soup. Except there were no carrots or bits of pea etc. Well maybe
there were but because it was nightime I couldn't see them. Plus I was
thinking about sharks. I have since looked on the internet and there
are not really many to worry about. However in neighbouring Oman there
are quite a few Tiger Sharks.
I went to Oman for about two minutes. Actually two minutes. Not five.
About two. It was a visa thing, pretty boring to talk about but also
pretty classic that everyone in the governmental organisation knows
that people drive in from Dubai to get their passports stamped to be
able to drive straight back in. There is even a bus company that take
a bus to do this exact same thing. It essentially means you can stay
in Dubai for longer. Anyway, i just reread that last paragraph.Like I
said, pretty boring.

Speaking of pretty boring. The new Harry Potter film was more boring
than I thought it was gonna be. However it has set the last film up
pretty well. Could have done with seeing a bit of Voldemort.
At first I actually really liked it and then rang my 15 year old
brother and said I really liked it and he said 'Did you?' As if I was
a bit of an idiot.
I said 'Yeah. Didn't you?'
He said 'Well actually I thought it was more boring than I thought it
would be. Didnt really see Voldemort much. But the last film will be
pretty good.'
I said 'Yeah, that's also what I think.' But was lying, then I said
'Can you put mum back on?'
He said 'You've already talked to her. Speak to Montgomery'
He passed me onto Monty my stepdad, his dad. He calls him Montgomery,
and so do I sometimes.
Anyway, when I was talking to my mum before she asked me the usual
stuff, how i was going. How my relationship was surviving the long
distance. What the time was here. And of course, her usual 'piece de
resistance': who is doing what degree at university.
'Mum, all my friends have been finished at university for about five years.'
'Well what about Heath?'
'Yeah he finished ages ago.'
'Well what degree did he do?'
'A bachelor of human sacrifice.'
'Don't be stupid.'
'Yeah well shut it about needing to know what degree everyone in the
world has ever done.'
'Well noone ever tells me anything. Getting a bloody word out of your
brother is like getting bloody from a stone'
'Ok. Well Heath did law and now he is a lawyer in Wellington.'
'Is he going out with anyone?' That is another question she must
always know about any of my friends.
'Yes, he is engaged.'
'Who to?'
'Maria'
'Is she nice?'
'Yes, she is really nice.'
'Oh that's good. That's good. Do you think you'll marry Ra?'
'shut it mum.'

Anyway my mum started grilling me about not drinking in public in
Dubai because she had heard of some golf pro who was drinking in
public and ended up dead.
I didn't get the middle of the story or how he died as I was too busy
thinking about how my 15 year old brother had just totally smoked me
in Harry Potter lore and obviously got that movie way better than I
did.
I told my mum that I wouldnt be drinking outside. And then started
thinking how robbed I felt that Voldemort had not really featured in
that movie. And then I think my mum started asking 'How is the band
being received in Germany?'

I said 'pretty good.'

Anyway, Ra and me went swimming down at the beach just before. It was
about 5 in the evening and the water was pretty boiling but it was ok.
I think there were little bugs in the water trying to bite us. The
best bit was when she tried to do PDA on me and I karate chopped her.
If there were any Muslim people around frowning upon public affection
they would have approved of my karate chop had they seen it.
Then Ra touched a blue bottle and I think I did too, but I didnt see
it so it could have been an old condom or something. God willing.

Anyway, not much other crud to report. Am back in Berlin and me and
Felix are now sharing a room and also I just brought some chips that
taste like peanut butter but are heaps grosser

shut your trap. Goldblum lives.

2009-07-01T11:45:00.000-07:00

God. I have just recovered my mind and emotional energy after being
away playing shows and mucking round for about ten days. It is pretty
tiring. But also reasonably classic.

At least i woke up fully clothed on sunday at 3pm with my boots on in
a hotel room I didnt even remember getting into. There were a packet
of Marlboro reds on the table and it jogged my memory that I had
stolen an almost life size figurine of a chef from outside of a hotel
the night before and traipsed through fields and marshland and stuck
it down the end of a jetty. Somehow I think my mind defined the
logical steps that:

a) me , Sam and Cathrin got dropped at the wrong hotel by festival organisers
b) to pay them back, i would steal the chef from out front of the hotel
c) i would take it through the fields as a lesson to people for not
dropping us at the wrong place
d) i would put it at the end of the jetty, but not throw it in the
lake, to show compassion.

I also ripped my pants from being too tired to climb the fence so just
taking a running jump and flying over it. I landed like a heavy bag of
vegetables. But who cares, i have no bruises.

Down by the jetty Sam and Cathrin told me it was not a good idea to
try boarding one of the yachts. I thought they were being prude
idiots. But actually when i started shaking the boat a lady came up
out of bed. So in fact on this occasion, Sam and Cathrin were correct.
That doesnt therefore mean that i am the idiot however, because the
lady who came up looked like a bit of a jerk actually. if it had have
been Ed down in the boat he probably would have come up and gone 'cool
chef'.

Anyway, all this carry on was after the Fusion Festival in Larz, Germany...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvkYUJCbJw8
.. that is a link of us playing. You can see how long Felix's (aka Lix
'Lickety SPlitz' Lun) hair is getting. He is hopefully going to grow
out a massive mullet and a mustache. He will then fulfill the
prophecy.

He has started a fictional side project called Star Control. Pretty
wicked name. Not as good as my fictional side project 'The Maoris'
however. I will be auditioning for band members sometime in the next
year. I have my eye on Big Hungry, Pounds and Jonny, however they may
be busy with their side project Jonny and the Knife Fighters. Which is
also one of the best names for a band i have heard in recent years.

I have quite a bit of news about the gigs: But i will bullet point
them so it doesnt get totally boring after one second.
a) Cardiff sucked. We were booked in a bar like the Loaded Hog. THere
were about six people there, the soundguy didnt know what he was doing
and I pretty much had bumwheeze. Seriously goes down as the most rank
gig we have ever had. We were pretty much laughing the whole time. And
we stayed with some cool people afterwards.

b) London was awesome. Catching up with old friends and having babes
dancing to our tunes and also Sam having to play a keyboard about
sixteen metres long as his had broken. It was ridiculously big and
took up quite a portion of the stage, i essentially wanted to kick it
out of the way, but didnt cos i couldnt be bothered with having to
pick it up again.

c) Leiden was the smallest room i have ever played in by at least 200
per cent. To reference a size i would say, the size of the toilets in
Mission Bay Burger King. And I am not exagerrating (f#ck i could never
spell that stupid word). If you have not been to Mission Bay Burger
King then you obviously didnt used to play hacky sack down by the
fountain so i dont even know why I am writing to you in the first
place.
Anyway, this was a fun gig. The room was packed. There were about 25
people. Heaps of Dutch people aka Schnurgens. They sound like they are
saying Schnurgen all the time. The venue was under this awesome squat
and this guy called Hgeil put his balls on our van and filmed it. It
was pretty good. Then he chased Ed with his balls etc. We have footage
of that also. I smoked heaps of weed because I felt like it. I love
the weed when I am in the Netherlands. (L.T.W)...
We stayed at this guy called Marcels house and me and Sam shared a
bed. I have a feeling that a Mick Jagger/ David Bowie episode may have
occurred, but whatever. I cant remember anything so therefore it is
not confirmed.
Leiden is pretty much one of the best places i have ever been. Heaps
of canals and weed etc.
d) Den Haag aka The Hague. Well, about 8 people, sorry, 11 people were
at our gig. But it was actually a really great night. We were staying
at this amazing old squat. Our friend Joost, who looks like Jimmy
Page, looked after us and rolled up heaps of weed. That was when we
found out MJ had died. Which sucked. There was a silver lining though,
in that we heard Goldblum had also died. When I found out that was a
hoax I felt even worse than when I had first heard that MJ had died
and knew nothing about Goldblum. So essentially the silver lining was
BULLSHIT. So Goldblum lives to fight another day. Oh well.
Anyway, then ...
e) Wassenaar, The Ambassadors Tea Party. Well we stayed in a mansion.
And we played background music at eh NZ ambassador of Netherlands
house. Me and Felix shared a room. I woke up in the middle of the
night because Lix turned the light on.
I said, 'what the hell Lix'
and he said 'there is a bat'
and i said 'what?'
and then i saw the bat flippen flying around the room like a skitzy
bird. It was a small bat but still freaked the living crud out of me
and then it flew out my window. Fuck THAT.
So anyway, we went back to sleep and had to get up at 4:40 to drive to
Fusion Festival.
f) Fusion Festival. Awesome. Heaps of hippies and weed. Cant remember
much. Was a great show and I stole a chef.

And i had some pretty strong psychedelics so if anyone from the
festival complains to anyone on this email list about the skitzy guy
from the New Zealand band demanding to be picked up with weed and
booze from the wrong hotel, then dont worry about it. It has all
smoothed over.

And tomorrow, we are going to Leipzig for a few days. Which is down
south or something. And sounds pretty good.

We have an old police van with bulletproof windows. Soooooo... yeah

greetings from earth and beyond

2009-06-16T00:33:00.000-07:00

Classic. Between five and ten people replied to my last email saying
things like 'great email' and 'classic email' and also 'good email
man.'
F*CK YOU! and also 'thanks'.
anyway, juice over here is pretty good.
My bike Trent has another flat tire. Last time it cost me 25 to get
the tire replaced. the bike itself cost 35. I am glad i did not act as
smug as i felt when i got the bike so cheap. Because if i had then the
rest of the band would probably be thinking 'ha idiot' for having two
flat tires in one week. To be honest, i am suspecting foul play. It
would not surprise me if it was Chico from upstairs who has been
sneaking down and slashing tires. Rob and Ede and also Felix AKA Lix
'Lickety Splitz' Lun have had flat tires. Actually so has Sam.

Chico.

Something has to be going on. I am only really just realising this
now. I know some of you think I sometimes conspiracy theorise, but
realistically, I am onto the right track this time. Which is pretty
obvious.
Chico lives upstairs. He is a composer. He looks like a combination
between Goldblum (top 5 worst actors),

Larry David and the teacher in
Ferris Buellers Day Off who does the role call 'Bueller, Bueller, Fry,
Bueller, Fry'.

top five worst actors
1. Rick Moranis
2. Matthew Broderick
3. Bill Pullman
4. Goldblum
5. Vin Diesel

Anyway, lucky that Chico's bathroom flooded into our bathroom the
other day. That was pretty good.
He came down and slunk into our apartment, and said that if we were
out he had a key to apartment and could happily hang round for when
the plumber was here.

He is trying to nark us out to the landlord that there are quite a few
of us living here. Chico.

felix cooked some pork mince or something tonight.
but i was out and ate a kebab. berlin kebabs are actually one of the
best things about berlin.
another couple of things about berlin that i love are
a) not having to eat felixs cooking when you go out for the night. but
dont worry he actually makes some delicious stuff. Like hummous.

actually i lost my train of thought because i just remembered when i
was biking back to my house a couple of days ago and i tried to
dismount when i was pulling into the kurb outside and as i pulled my
leg over it got caught on the basket and then i freaked out and
slammed on the brakes and flipped off the front. There was about 15-18
people standing around by the bus stop and they all obviously thought
i was a massive jerk. Lucky i landed on my hip and knee and finger.

It didnt help when i was trying to get into my house and my bike kind
of got stuck etc. There was quite a bit of sniggering. It was not as
bad as the time i got my head stuck in the tube when i was in london
though. Which was definately the most embarassing thing that ever
happened to me. It was added to when i turned up to the party i ws
headed to and people said 'what are those black marks on your face?' i
didnt realise at the time but when i looked in the mirror and put two
and two together i realised it is from when the tube doors closed on
my face and marked them with the black rubber crud which is on the
inside of the doors.
But what doesnt kill you makes you stronger.

All the stuff above this line i wrote when i was drunk a couple of
nights ago. Hence why it is quite aggressive, offensive and
confrontational. so i am sorry for that

It is 8:17am and there is construction happening again. I think the
best part about it is that they stop for about two hours around 10am.
What i think would be a really cool idea is maybe instead of stopping
at ten am for a couple of hours, maybe they could take those two hours
and not start until 8am rather than 6am. But that is only my very
humble opinion. Anyway, no big deal, i just looked out the window and
threw an apple core towards them and muttered a curse, so it is only a
matter of time before they get the bad juju. I can actually see a
bunch of them from my bed with white helmets on. I dream of owning a
slingshot and having very good aim.

Here are a few of the highlights of my life since i wrote to you last.
They are in order. As i find it infuriating when people make lists and
then say 'in no particular'. Why then would you make a list if it is
in no particular order? Sounds a bit Aids-ey to me. Anyway,

1. Getting dressed in womans clothes
2. Getting a flat tire on the side of the auto Bahn where we could nt
get the wheel nuts off because the tire was so fucked.
Anyway, there were trucks ripping past at around 160 km and Sam and
Rob went down the road trying to flag someone to help us. Sam was
wearing a high visibility vest and Rob was bouncing up and down
pointing to our busted wheel jack. It looked like a music video for
The Village People. No wonder nobody stopped except the Police.
The police actually couldnt help, didnt speak english and didnt have a
wheel jack that we could borrow. I pointed at the pistol on the guys
hip and then did the action of shooting off our wheel. He didnt think
it was very classic at all. Well whatever, he looked liked Colonel
Clink.
Anyway, we ended up getting towed and werent even late for a gig we
were playing in Cologne that night. That was quite a ruly night
actually. Met some swell humans.
3. Playing two shows with the Veils in Berlin and Hamburg. and meeting
Olly and Hauke who are German booking agent team and totally looked
after us, including finding us cheap vodka and giving the band free
Neil Young tickets. We are going tonight. Which will be sweet.
4. Discovering the program The Wire.
5. Getting some new deodorant
6. Receiving a polaroid in the mail of a guy holding his unit in front
of the mirror with the words 'what a view' written on the white bit on
the polaroid. Long story, but James and I stole this photo from the
'gay box' at 92 Lincoln st. and then would hide it in each other's
rooms until the other one found it. I wondered where it had got to. I
was horrified to know that James had made the effort to send it to
Berlin wrapped in apiece of lined A4 refill in an unmarked envelope.
This is actually number 1 i have decided but cant be bothered
rejigging the list. So ignore all that crap i was talking about
particular order etc..

Anyway, i am tired and bored now. We have to look for a van today.

lots of love to you all.

PS we probably arent going to be able to go to London this weekend due
to visa issues. but will keep you posted.

pps i started a weblog aka a 'blog' http://whateverorwhateveretc.blogspot.com/
ppps. starting the blog was my idea. Noone elses. I also figure out
heaps of rad stuff by myself like not overcooking vegetables, and
figuring out how to maek watching a movie on your laptop go full
screen by pressing APPLE '0

diggers outside my window

2009-06-15T23:45:00.000-07:00

Hello friends. I was inspired to write a 'group email' when i woke up
at 6:46am this morning as some concrete dropped on some other
concrete. But i think the edge kinda scraped down the other edge and
made the chalk board sound x 400,000. Then a guy shouted something
which sounded like 'Pig dog death, floor hatred, love?'. So I am
pretty sure thats what he meant. My initial reaction would have been
to reply by saying 'Hey, shut it!' but before i could do anything
another guy said back to him jovially something along the lines of
'buttpower! buttpower kind!'. So, whatever.

It was a pretty good way to start the day. Not as good as nutri grain
or whatever, but pretty close. I can hear the diggers digging crap up
right now. Its a shame actually because if they werent so loud, i
probably wouldnt want to kill the guys driving them. Oh they have
stopped, and it has been replaced by a jackhammer. So that's quite
good. Almost soothing.
I just went and looked out the window and secretly pulled the fingers
at a couple of those guys.

Anyway, I am in Berlin and life of the unemployed is actually ruling
so hard that I almost want to puke. I really like
a) getting up late
b) doing what i want
c) not going to work
d) going to the kids playground and sitting in the far corner by the
swings smoking
e) riding my bike Trent around
f) getting up and looking in the fridge and seeing what you can make
from different ingredients

There are a lot more things I like about being unemployed, but those
are the ones that sprung immedietly to my head.
We have been here a month and it is probably my new favourite town. I
refused to do any sightseeing when I found out that Hitlers bunker can
not actually be seen from the road, and you would never even know it
was there. That put me off.
But there is plenty to do otherwise and everyone pretty much sits
around drinking or mucking round in the park here. There are probably
a billion or so parks in Berlin. It is a really green city which is
awesome. When you contrast that with the absolutely overpowering
amount of graffiti it is such a cool looking place. Some of the
graffiti pieces are whole sides of huge apartment blocks, it is
unbelievable stuff. My favourite one is this big spaceman that you see
out of the side of the train.

I also like the one that says 'Mike sucked me off in here' in the
toilets in a bar near our home. Although it is not as grandiose as the
spaceman.
I never thought I would use the word grandiose in context. So, pretty
much can tick that off.

Have been on a couple of adventures... the most memorable being Sam
and I's journey to Amsterdam to see Jean Michel Jarre live.

Essentially, in a nutshell, we brought some 'truffles' from a lady in
a shop who told us they were a mild form of mushrooms, ate them, found
out that they were by no means 'mild', tripped out and thought that
Jean Michel Jarre was landing a spacecraft on the stage.

The laser show and music actually blew my brains out, it was so good.
And honestly, I was hallucinating so hard like never before. It was
flippen sweet.

Then I got robbed. This guy basically reached for his back pocket
where either a knife or a gun was, or a carrot or whatever
was and robbed me for all the money in my wallet. 10 Euros, ha sucker.

It was a night of various strange and wonderful adventures which i
could go in depth into, but seeing was kind of believing. And I was so
god damn high I dont even actually know if it all happened.
I can confirm neither Sam nor I slept with a prostitute. Although we
did get some pretty good camera footage of a shop window with a
beautiful dildo display.

The band are all here now in Berlin. Rob arrived at 2am this morning
and woke us up. So odds are we are going to ask him to leave the band.

Our first gig is this friday night at a place called Tacheles. It is
like an art squat (trippy), so that will be great. Then we are headed
to Hamburg on Sunday to play with The Veils (which is so f*cking
exciting, i love that band), and then back to do the Berlin show with
them on monday..

We have a bunch of interesting stuff coming up actually, in June
headed to Cologne,London, Cardiff, a bunch of Netherlands shows and
then this great festival called Fusion Festival... We are stoked to be
playing it, it is supposed to be one of Europe's great festivals.
Hopefully I dont get electrocuted or something before that. But odds
are I might.

We are also playing a hardcore metal fest called Ieperfest in august.
Spelt with an I not an L.. but pretty classic.

hope everyone is good. Please write to me back.
And yes, even though I am unemployed, I really want to do some writing
of band bios or any copy for websites or whatever... so if anyone
needs anything like that done you can hit me up. I only want one day
of work per 6 weeks, so take it easy.
I am going now to eat an apple and throw the core somewhere near the
construction workers.

i know i have left a bunch of stuff out in this email. but whatever.

reuben p. bonner

ps. I saw a guy on the train who pretty much looked exactly like Paul
Vahry, Jonny's dad.