Earlier today the teenager who egged Justin Beiber at his Sydney concert plead guilty to the charges laid against him. The newspaper didn’t specify what charges he had plead guilty to but probably something to do with assault with an ‘eggly’ weapon. You’re welcome.

Anyway, if there’s one dude you shouldn’t waste concert ticket, egg and legal defence money on, it’s Justin Beiber.  I’m not above hating Justin Beiber. Like everyone else it comes from jealousy. At just 17 he’s made enough money to retire on whilst running the gauntlet of faithless model wives who all end up living in the same complex in a sexy ‘Melrose Place’ sort of scenario. And heaps more people care about him than me. Whenever Earth is destroyed there’ll still be the signals from television appearances of Justin Beiber bouncing about space. So many of them. Thousands, if not millions (if not hundreds, I don’t really understand the measurements of television signals)

So yeah, fuck that guy; let’s go egg him right? 

right? 

WRONG, you silly billy-goat.

Actively hating on Beiber is like actively hating on Twilight. There is no war, by tearing apart Twilight along with the majority you’re just agreeing with everyone, which is both boring to listen to and indicative of a needy weakling.

What do you think will happen when you tell everyone Beiber sucks? That the kids who listen to Beiber will be all like “Wow, you know that 29 year old dude with a neck beard who keeps making fun of Beiber is right. Fuck all this noise; I’m throwing on some Pearl Jam!

Here is a short list of people in Australia you should throw eggs at instead, in no order

Matthew Newton: The worst. He has beaten two of his girlfriends. Needs to be egged then repeatedly punched in the head by a physically larger man, so he knows how it feels. 

Bob Katter: Obviously he isn’t as bad as Newton. Still, deserves eggs to the face. He’s like a racist distant relative with antiquated viewpoints, except he has a say in FEDERAL POLITICS. Well done Queensland, I honestly wish I could say any of the other states expected better from you. You dirt bag hillbilly half-a-state. Such a bigot that when Katter says he doesn’t believe gays exist in his electorate, it sounds like he’s launching a tourist campaign.

 David Hicks: Dude was a terrorist. Seriously, how do people forget that? I mean get him out of Guantanamo but let’s not canonise terrorists now. You know who does that? Terrorists. And everybody hates those jerkwads. Justin Beiber may be annoying and all, but have his ringtones ever assisted an organisation in murdering people for being different? Not to the best of my knowledge, that’s for sure. 

What I assume are the top five stories on CNN.com based on the headlines

The following are the headlines of the five most popular stories on CNN.com and what one would assume the stories to be.

Schwarzenegger, Shriver announce split

This one seems pretty straight forward. It appears that Arnold Schwarzenegger and his wife are divorcing. So many people in the news media must dread those mornings when they wake up to find out there’s another Schwarzenegger story. I’ve typed his name out three times now and I swear to god if I didn’t see this paragraph ending I don’t even know what I would do. Probably coke. All the political journalists must have razzed on their entertainment-covering colleagues until he decided to run for Governor. Well suck on that political journalists, that’ll teach you for trying to cover real news. Good luck scooping the next Watergate dickwads.

Natural wonders to see before they disappear

Well this one is quite clearly about boobs.

Face transplant patient ready to go home

This is likely somebody recounting the story of a seminal film in the Travolta cannon: Face-Off. I’m assuming the story is picking up when he swaps faces with Nicholas Cage and he heads home to do sex with his arch-enemies wife and maybe his daughter. Though to be fair Nicholas Cage’s daughter is Dominique Swain, who was quite clearly over eighteen when this was filmed. Then there’s some kind of fight on a plane or helicopter or something and maybe redemption and I think one of them was dead all along or Luke’s father but those may be different movies.

U.S. was prepared to fight Pakistani forces

Well this just looks like posturing. Like America is a fourteen year old who got into an argument with another kid and will not stop telling his friends that he totally would have punched-on if the other kid started it. Seriously America, you killed Osama. It’s time to stop being so insecure.

 Boomers: 'Sex, drugs and rocky road'

It's about baby boomers, and like most generations they've at some point had sex, hence generation X. And probably done drugs, hence the unprotected sex. The mystery lies in the Rocky Road, until you think for a second and remember that rocky road is super-delicious and the boomers want to eat some. I don't see how any of this is news.

The wedding of Kate and Will was some of the worst television I’ve seen in some time. The priest would not shut up about Jesus or something and all anyone wants to see Will and Kate make out, being that there would be nothing more titillating for monarchists worldwide to watch those two tall thoroughbred suck face and extrapolating from that exactly how they do sex. It seemed like whoever was running proceedings realised this, and decided to elongate the whole affair. This would have been fine, people happily tune into new years coverage at 9 or 10 to watch the midnight fireworks, which indicates that people can wait a long time for nothing, considering how boring fireworks are on television (and, FYI, in conversation). But the kiss itself sucked. It lasted like two seconds. It was so short that, despite recording the kiss itself I’m going to have to download pictures, because I can’t make the video play slow enough for me to fully pleasure myself to it.

Everybody likes Will and Kate and tolerates the monarchy in general. They left the event as they entered it, generally unnoticed until one of them dies, gets married or starts sporting a Nazi uniform at a party. The Nazi uniform scandal was ridiculous because it wasn’t a costume, Harry had slept in, missed the start of the event and wandered down in his Nazi pyjamas to check out the event. And I personally don’t think anyone should govern what one does or wears in the bedroom.

Anyway the royals did fine, but man did the church blow it. Here was a chance to show generations of people who had never been inside a church that church can be a fun experience, and entice lapsed church-goers back. Instead they tread out the same shitty songs and sermons with their shitty band and shitty choir singers. I’m not saying play Hendrix, but even the most orthodox church lets you use an acoustic guitar. I don’t even care if you get Rihanna to cover the Beatles. Fuck it, get the Beatles. What else are they doing? Lennon and Harrison haven’t toured in years. 

 And then they rode off in a horse drawn carriage. Which was pretty sweet. Also, the ring nearly didn’t get onto Kate’s finger. The wedding looked like a pretty big operation, nobody checked to see if they were going to have to force the ring on and make the global public think that the future queen of England has fat fingers? That is no way to run an empire.

Believing in a god that can see everything you do must be frustrating sometimes. You would always feel like a recalcitrant child, except instead of your parents going to bed or you getting away to the sanctity of your room, god is always watching you. And worse, he (or she. realistically he) is listening to your thoughts. Didn’t think you could get in trouble for thoughts? Well fuck you dixie-bitch you’re committing thought-crime as we speak.  Thought-crime was a term used in the book 1984, which coined the phrase big brother, which was the name of a reality show that is far more entertaining and rewarding than reading 1984. Real talk.

Anyway, the concept of an omniscient god sort of explains a lot. It certainly explains religious charities. If I thought I was scoring points with G-daddy every time I did charity work I would consider at some point in my life maybe doing charity work. Needless to say if you were living a regular life you would feel pretty guilty pretty often about all those things Christ saw you do. Especially you. You horrid deviant.

That said agnosticism still comes with guilt. For many it’s the same that accompanies procrastination, like ‘Oh shit I should probably look into life after death but I’m probably not dying anytime soon so maybe don’t worry but man would I be embarrassed if I died and st. Peter asked me what I believed and I just froze up. Man I would look like such a wang.’

There is also a general guilt because, hey, someone could be watching. Where for a very religious person shameful acts would feel like having sex with your primary school teacher watching, for agnostics it is more akin to the experience of masturbating whilst your roommate’s cat is in the room. I mean, he probably doesn’t understand what you’re doing, but if he does it is very embarrassing. Though you never know, you may even impress the cat. I know I always try to.  

There is nothing more un-Australian than calling something un-Australian

Australia, once internationally considered a multicultural melting pot of convicts and people who are not convicts, is becoming increasingly recognised for straight up old school racism. There are many ways to recognise a racist, like southern cross tattoos or prefacing a sentence with “I’m not a racist” (If you have to preface it with that it is at least slightly racist, it would be like walking around a school fete, accosting young mothers and saying “Madam, I am no paedophile but you must know that your child is a sexy beast.”

Another way in which one can indicate that they are a racist is if their criticism of something centres on it being ‘un-Australian’. As if there was a meeting that all the whites went to in the early fifties in which a national character was decided upon. And because it’s the fifties the participants in this forum would have been conservative bores who probably mixed milk with vodka, didn’t allow mixed-gender dancing at discos and violently sexed themselves to whatever jazz or bebop music they could find on the radio. And cowards, as all racists are. Even racist wolverines, Canada's bravest woodland creature, are pussies.

People who seem to hold on to the assumption that they have the authority to label something they don’t like un-Australian are, always, idiots. Because rather than simply saying the activity they are against disagrees with their own values, they attempt to play into jingoism, hoping to convince people that something like the banning of poker machines would be akin to the submarine in Sydney Harbour reanimating and taking out the Opera house. Actually the bridge, the opera house is probably un-Australian, lookin’ all faggy an’ shit.

Banning poker machines isn’t un-Australian. One would think that as a country we’d advertise ourselves as against rich people exploiting and sucking problem gamblers dry.  Because seriously, fuck poker machines. They’re not even fun. Get an X-box. But that’s beside the point, the real problem is that the people who make poker machines are filthy blood-sucking swine, and the government should be working to ensure they get as little money (and therefore sex) as possible in the near and distant future.

The Cronulla riots, for something created by talk of un-Australian things, was decidedly un-Australian. Although maybe it wasn’t, when you consider the vitriol thrown towards the Villawood detainees. Considering they’ve been incarcerated in unliveable circumstances for years, all because they’ve commited the crime of being born in a country that hates them (like wants them dead hates them). It’s equitable to Australia being a sweet house party, and all of a sudden there’s a knock on the door and a brutally beaten individual stumbles in, saying that if they return to their house they will be killed. Now, to kick them out would be un-Australian, so everyone just agrees to lock the dude in the dog cage out back with maybe some cardboard to sleep on and ignore him for a couple of decades. Needless to say if you were that guy, you’d probably at some point start burning shit.

Cats will always be funnier than dogs.

As far as the animal kingdom goes, pets are pretty low on the food chain. They can’t hunt their own prey or make their own shelter and most of them are utterly devoid of genitals.  But as far as the pet food chain goes, cats and dogs are king and queen. I’d imagine the dog would be the king and the cat would be the queen, its easier to picture it that way, especially the sex. I imagine it all goes well until cat queen complains that the king is being too ‘ruff’ and demanding that they ‘paws’ before informing dog-king (his name is Rex in this scenario) that if he thinks she enjoys that kind of coitus then he is ‘barking up the wrong tree’.

You’re welcome for those jokes with the homophones there. You’re welcome.

But I digress. Everyone has an opinion about whether cats or dogs are better pets, and some pop-psychology over what your preference reveals about you. Cat v. dog is in debate in that respect, but the internet has provided us with irrefutable proof that cats are funnier than dogs.

Cat videos and pictures are all over the internet, whilst dogs trail behind like (before posting insert in dog-metaphor for how the dogs trail behind. Maybe like greyhounds behind the rabbit. Is it a rabbit? It looks like a sponge. Maybe a meat sponge or something. I don’t know). The internet, is (I believe) used by everybody in the world, so it’s probably a good indicator of the general world perspective.

When one thinks about it, the reason as to why is steeped in an understanding of human nature. Of course I don’t mean the band human nature, though here is a link to their seminal hit, every time you cry; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77zyxyiCO8k. Again, you’re welcome.

Cats are more serious than dogs. If animals had a high school cats would be the kids in leather jackets smoking in the toilets and being emotionally unavailable to their paramours. Dogs would be the earnest losers, writing th year-book and turning up well dressed and on time to school functions with a stupid smile on their face.

Cats avoid humans unless they want something, dogs run up to you the minute they see you. Cats glide gracefully around a room, dogs mostly run into things and defecate in inappropriate places.

To put it simply, cats are the classy, dogs are buffoons.

One could assume that cats, being suave and observant would therefore be funnier, like micallef. Except cats don’t have the cognitive capacity to engage in funny making themselves, we laugh at what they do.

In Charlie Chaplin’s films, the tramp (Chaplin) took a beating, but the big prat falls were always reserved for the men in suits. If you wandered into one of his films the more powerful and important you were the more likely blunt force trauma was for you. Chaplin was of course a genius, so one can assume this isn’t by accident. People want to see people in lofty places brought down from their perch. The tramp covered in pie isn’t funny, of course he’s covered in pie, dude has no money and considering his outfit it's probable he's nursing a heroin habit. But the president with pie in his face? That is a mother-fucking-knee-slapper there sir, guaranteed. Robin Williams defines comedy as gravity. That is the moment one realises one is falling over, and there is nothing they can do. To recognise your powerlessness over gravity is the same as understanding chaos. As such comedy is a human reaction to and acknowledgement of chaos. Cats are less chaotic, more fluent, when they fall over, gravity takes them from a far greater height, and it’s hilarious. Dogs? They’re supposed to fall. Goons.

Before I go, just in case you missed it, here is a link to Human Nature’s “Everytime you cry”, which the more I think about it the more I imagine it to be some sort of misogynistic come-on. Anyway - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77zyxyiCO8k

Mark Zuckerberg is not socially awkward

The term socially awkward is thrown around a lot these days, notably to describe Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg. This is likely a direct result of the Social Network, and Eisenberg’s performance as the ‘socially awkward’ gajillionaire.

Aaron Sorkin’s Mark Zuckerberg is not socially awkward. Mark Zuckerberg walks into meetings with high powered executives and tells them to blow him. And there are at least five cases in which they did. He luxuriated through the court cases against him like Fred Astaire’s more chilled out uncle, Max-chiller Astaire. When asked whether he believed a court case deserved his full attention,  he answered:

            “I think if your clients want to sit on my shoulders and call themselves tall, they have the right to give it a try - but there's no requirement that I enjoy sitting here listening to people lie. You have part of my attention - you have the minimum amount. The rest of my attention is back at the offices of Facebook, where my colleagues and I are doing things that no one in this room, including and especially your clients, are intellectually or creatively capable of doing.”

Zuckerberg proceeded to dead-lift his ninety-kilogram balls and drop them on the table, both destroying the table and creating a shockwave that left millions in the surrounding area dead.  Zuckerberg then produces a bottle of liquefied ketamine, which he pours into his left eyeball (he needs the right to drive). He turns to the lawyer and asks; “Did I adequately answer your condescending question?”

That is not the behaviour of a socially awkward individual. The individual above, who in the film does actually say those words and may or may not (pending on closer examination of stills) have ninety kilogram testicles. The Social Network’s Zuckerberg is a public-toilet banging gunslinger.

The Facebook movie is probably not the only reason people have been using the term socially awkward so much recently, is on account of the fact that the word ‘awkward’ is one of the most overused in the English language. Not everything is awkward, let me tell you what awkward is.

Awkward is when you walk into a lift and realize as the door closes that you went to school with the girl in front of you, and you don’t remember her name, and the guy on your right is a friend from uni who always insists on talking for at least twenty minutes even though he has no conversational skills whatsoever, forcing you to ask questions like you’re mike munroe except instead of getting paid millions you get to hear about hiking in queensland or northern territory or wherever it is he goes hiking, who even cares? Not me. Fuck that guy and fuck hiking. What’s the point in hiking? You go in a circle. If you’re going to walk somewhere you may as well be doing it for a reason, like to the local shopping centre or home after another fruitless night trying to meet women in parking lots. 

But I digress, so you’re in a lift, and in front of you is that girl from school and the socially maladroit hiker, and you have to get out of the lift two floors before they do, they haven’t noticed you, but you have to push past them to get out of the lift and they’ll surely want to talk.

And then you turn to your right and see your only son making out with a dude, and you want to be OK with it but you wanted grand kids and it would have been nice if he had spoken to you about it first. Anyway the lift hits your floor, and in walks your wife, except she has taken off her fat-woman costume and it turns out she is Martin Lawrence, as is your son. You stay in the lift with everyone. Suddenly the buildings electricity fails, and you’re all stuck in the small cube for at least three hours. Also, somebody said something racist and someone else made a holocaust joke and another person is smoking in the elevator.

That’s awkward.