You are browsing this site using Internet Explorer 7. For a better experience, you may want to upgrade to a newer browser.
A weblog by Christopher Miles
Dr. Troy Franklin, ‘anti-occult expert and Baptist demon exorcism specialist‘:
Whether it be the challenge of exorcising demonic possessions or simply the act of shooing away a gaggle of neighborhood Druids eyeing my cat, Milton, with perverse hunger, I have answered the Lord’s call to engage in Spiritual Warfare against Satan’s minions, and my answer is: “Bring it on!”
Highlights of this year’s Royal Melbourne Show: a sign at the dog show which simply read ‘BITCH’; a man being set on fire; a sheep with enormous bollocks.
There’s something charming about spam email prefixed with ‘Re:’. It’s as though the sender is being particularly sincere in responding to my queries about ‘raw power’ and ‘massive rods’.
Things I wish I’d known before disrobing for the shower: that the shower door was broken, and that it would take an extended period of grunting, swearing and bending over to get it back on its rollers again.
My daughter is having trouble getting to sleep. “I want prince,” she sobs.
Halfway through my acapella version of ‘Sexy MF’ I realised she was referring to the prince in Sleeping Beauty.
Our neighbours have had ‘Beat It’ on repeat for a number of hours. I am concerned they may have died in a spectacularly ill-engineered moonwalking attempt.
Our shitty printer is a Brother MFC-425CN. I have just come up with some imaginative explanations of what ‘MFC’ and ‘CN’ stand for.
As one of my Twitter friends noted, “Grandad looks as though he has just been handed a glass of post-war existential despair.”
(ryan k)
Apparently this kind of doll is called a ‘dunny toy’. But I imagine you can play with them in whichever room you wish.
Was alarmed by our daughter asking if we like ‘big bum fun’.
It turns out there is a children’s TV program called Big Barn Farm.
Our TV reception only works if I unplug the antenna and thump the set-top box. Could Logie Baird have dared imagine such a wonderful future?
At the park. A couple of old guys are chatting, in Greek, on the seat behind me. Occasionally I hear one of them say the words ‘George Negus’.
The name ‘Paul’ doesn’t quite seem right for a psychic octopus. I’ve never known a Paul with psychic abilities, or more than two arms.
…it is not the furniture — the dragons, ogres, elves and wizards, the magical swords, cups and corkscrews — that make a work fantasy but that hopeless yearning vision of life as it cannot be that burns green and eternal at its heart.
From the essay ‘In the tradition’ by Michael Swanwick. Emphasis mine.
I have reached that awesome carnivalesque, hall-of-mirrors, ‘nothing in the world can stop me now’ part of having been awake too long.
Someone’s child just lobbed a handful of breadcrumbs at my feet, summoning a flock of seagulls to harass me, then promptly buggered off.
Even Ian Fleming would have baulked at using this title. Though surely he would’ve been within his rights to sue: the strapline even refers to an ‘Agent 0008’ (“Yeah, chuck an extra zero on. Oh, and change the ‘7’ to an ‘8’ while you’re at it. What? Well, no. Not a lawyer exactly.”)
“Because she now favoured women for love, each arrow she shot at her male assistant seemed to be aimed closer to castrate him.”
From the ‘Rejected White Stripes album covers’ file.
“He made a fantastic bargain with creatures from another world — the loan of his brain in exchange for an unearthly legacy.”
I wonder if this Frank Frazetta illustration was the inspiration for Tom Cho’s ‘Cock Rock’?
