Tetherd Cow Ahead

For reasons that I’m not at liberty to divulge, I found myself this week being issued security clearance for access to one of the off-limits-to-mere-mortals areas of Sydney Airport.

This is what my pass said:

How do they know? Or more worryingly, did they do something to me so that they would be certain? Jeez. I prolly need to up my dose of SPUR-M for a while.

(And imagine this if you will – I’m walking along the concourse and two women look at me and cluck with sympathy. Damn. I may as well have a badge that says ‘Impotent’. I wanted to say “I’m not, I’m not, I swear!” but I know what they’re going to think: “You’ve got an official badge that says it, chum. You can say what you want but we know what we’re going to tell everyone on the plane…”)

It doesn’t matter how much weird shit you stumble across on the net, there’s always something that can freak you out more than the last thing.

At this site you will see some of the ookiest women imaginable (and the occasional man).

These people have all decided, for reasons that remain obscure, to grow their fingernails unnaturally long. I want you to visit the site, get entirely weirded out, then return here and consider the following concepts:

•Putting on a shirt

•Wiping your bum

•Masturbating

•Opening the fridge

•Brushing your teeth

•Using a phone

•Sleeping

To Make an Homunculus (similar to that praised by Paracelsus)*:

Find the root of the plant called bryony. Take it out of the ground on a Monday (the day of the moon), a little time after the vernal equinox. Cut off the ends of the root and bury it at night in some country churchyard in a dead man’s grave. For thirty days water it with cow’s milk in which three bats have been drowned. When the thirty-first day arrives, take out the root in the middle of the night and dry it in an oven heated with the branches of verbena; the result will be a tiny monster resembling a human being. Wrap it up in a piece of a dead man’s winding sheet and carry it with you when you go about your business.

OK, some points to consider:

•Have a really good excuse prepared for when someone catches you digging around in somebody’s grave in the middle of the night. I’m thinking that “It’s OK officer, I’m just making an homunculus” is not going to get you off with just a warning.

•Lotsa luck with the drowning of the bats in a bucket of milk. That could be a real laff riot.

•I’m not sure how easy it’s going to be to find a dead man’s winding sheet nowadays. Try substituting a deaf man’s whining sheep.

•An homunculus isn’t just for Christmas! When you get your homunculus, you’ll have to look after it. My book suggests: “Keep it hidden in some secret place and feed it with lavender seeds and earthworms. You will have success with everything as long as it lives.” (My feeling is that if you go into business with a well-mulched lavender farm, you’ll be set forever).
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*This may possibly be the first ever hyperlinked homunculus conjuration to appear on the web.

For reasons with which none of you should really concern yourselves just now*, I had cause last evening to be looking through one of my books on Black Magic†. I discovered these two gems which I thought it was only fair I should share:

To find out if a girl is still a virgin:

Pulverise some lily pollen, and find an opportunity of making her swallow it without knowing, for example at a table in some dish. If she is no longer a virgin she will be seized with an irresistible urge to urinate.

Now this sounds like a pretty good party trick, right fellas? I don’t find myself at tables full of virgins very often these days, so I think the lily pollen method is likely to result in a sudden rush for the lady’s room. This can only be a source of mirth.

If you don’t get caught.

An outcome which is much more likely while attempting the next piece of hocus pocus:

To know a woman’s most intimate secrets:

Take a live toad, pull its tongue out and throw the toad back into the water. Put this tongue on the woman’s heart while she is still asleep and she will talk and answer all your questions.

(Second method: take a pigeon’s heart and a toad’s head, dry them and reduce them to a powder which you must sprinkle lightly over the stomach of the sleeping woman. The effect will be the same).

OK. So, aside from the possible animal cruelty issues, there are a number of hurdles that I can see:

•Finding a toad ~ Toads are not plentiful in my neighbourhood, although I guess if you’re in Queensland it’s not such a biggie.

•Tearing its tongue out ~ Now, I really haven’t had reason to try this, but it doesn’t sound too easy to me. You know, “Yeah, just pull its tongue out” like when someone says “Yeah, just make sure you keep all three chainsaws in the air as the kitten exits your left hand…”

•Taking out a pigeon’s heart ~ It doesn’t say whether you’re supposed to rip out the heart and throw the pigeon back into the air, but going on the toad instructions, one must assume something like this would be required. That’s likely to be fairly messy.

•Finding a sleeping woman ~ Chance would be a fine thing.

•Putting sundry animal bits on sleeping woman without waking her up ~ Also, taking them off afterwards. Otherwise, in the morning she wonders where the hell all the rancid-smelling dust came from and… eeeww, blecch… is that a slug…??? (Ooh, er, no dear, that looks like a toad’s tongue to me…) Oh, that’s alright then.

This book has much, much more. I just know you’re all itching to find out how to make an homunculus. And then what to do with one once you have.

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*All I’m going to say at this stage is ‘Spammers Beware!’

†Yes, I have more than one. And I own a black cat. ph33r m3!

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Don’t forget the ‘Insincerity‘ launch – October 31st!

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One of the reasons that I know Nurse Myra likes to hang out with me is that she gets to hear me expound my revolutionary schemes for World Political Reform, particularly my vision for Pete Worldâ„¢.

So, we’re off on a jaunt to the seaside, and whilst speculating on the directions for the US in the upcoming election for a new POTUS* my laser-beam gaze turns upon the possible candidates and the way in which a change of regime might be called on to provide effective modern leadership.

We agree that the field is pretty weak.

“Condoleeza Rice?” she suggests.

“They’ll never go for it,” I say. “She’s black, and a woman. She’d always lose to a man. They wouldn’t take the risk unless she was up against another woman”.

“What about if it was a contest between her and Hilary Clinton?”

“I suppose,” I say. “But there’d have to be a good media angle to it. I guess they could promote it as the World’s Most Significant Bitch Fight”.

And then I have one of those lightning flashes of genius that will come to be known as the defining signature of Pete Worldâ„¢.

“Either that, or they could replace the Presidential Debate with Nude Jelly Wrestling”†.

“That could be ugly,” she says.

“Not as ugly as what George Bush and his lackeys are doing to the world. And anyway, it would be at least entertaining and no-one would get hurt. In fact, thinking about it, in Pete Worldâ„¢ only women would be allowed to run countries, and the outcomes of all important world conflicts would be decided in the Televised Jelly Wrestling Arena. It just couldn’t be a worse state of affairs than we have at the moment”.

You all really want to come and live in Pete Worldâ„¢, don’t you? There’s one thing I can promise for certain: it would never be boring.

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*President of the United States. I learnt that from ‘The West Wing’. Up until then I’d been dropping the diminutives as custom allows, and (obviously foolishly) acronymizing it PUS.

†I don’t mean to suggest that Condy and Hils couldn’t have a meaningful intellectual tête-à-tête, but c’mon, truthfully, what are you more likely to watch on television…?