Mildura ~ Australia ~ Don’t go there for a holiday

Sitting on the shores of the muddy, toxic-algae-filled Murray River and tucked just inside the Victorian border, Mildura owes its existence to an irrigation experiment that transformed it from an arid wasteland into a soggy wasteland that grows fruit. The city’s horticultural heritage is reflected in the names of its streets including Orange Avenue, Lemon Avenue and Avocado Street. In recent times more modern industries have also been honoured in similar fashion: Chroming Street, Insurance Fraud Avenue and Handjob Boulevard.

Mildura calls itself ‘Victoria’s Food Bowl’, but ‘Meth Bowl’ would be more accurate. The original translation of Mildura is ‘sore eyes’, which is strangely appropriate considering the average Milduran’s scabby peepers have been prised open on a six-week drug binge. Aside from picking fruit for slave wages, popular activities in ‘Methdura’ include living in a van down by the river, staying awake for three weeks in a row and trading sexual favours for a suck on the see-through didgeridoo.

Mildura is the capital of ‘Sunraysia’, a made-up country populated by sun-worshipping gronks. It’s also the welfare fraud capital of Victoria, proving that Mildurans enjoy a spot of dole bludging as much as they like actively courting melanoma. Another local obsession involves relentlessly revving anything with an engine, whether a powerboat on the river or a rusted boganmobile with a baked beans tin for an exhaust – anything incredibly loud and obnoxious will do when you’re poorly endowed and want the whole world to know.

Mildura: Melons, Meth and Microdicks.

🤪🤪🤪🤪
  • The Egos Con ~
    "PREPARATION" a poem September 13 2019 (Friday) IT'S ALMOST TIME TO W(H)INE AND DINE, ] Lots of PREP TIME shall be mine.] PutOnMyBestFace for THIS TIME, ] For I WANT it toBE sublime, APPROPRIATE and PROPER, see, ] WHEN FINISHED, feeling GOOD for ME, Is CRITICAL and very needed; I donotwannabe UPSET or out seeded. … Read more
  • “O. J. MAN.” a poem on: Friday The 13th September 2019
    "O. J. MAN." a poem on: Friday The 13th September 2019 (I'm telling you) IF you can find a man to squeeze you orange juice in the morning, you got it made, 'Cause an orange juice squeezer that kind of guy is (for lack of a better term:) A HIGHER GRADE, Because he USES HIS … Read more
  • Big fake ~
    "BIG FAKE" a poem for FRIDAY, September 13, 2019 A smile, A hug, An insincere I LOVE YOU; You're a fake, FOR GOODNESS' SAKE; You're NEVER authentic or true. "Well, OK, then What's Next? if you can't trust anything anyone does as really real?" A BUNCH OF FAKE PEOPLE. "You're FAKES that's just what I … Read more
  • Comfy ~ in my opinion ~
    "COMFY!" a poem September 12, 2019 (Thursday) "Don't go there." and "Stay away from him." "I'm NOT comfortable (and you shouldn't be either) with Brian or Jim, Or Robin or any unstable girl or, even, Gladys, Who hangs out at The Local Bar, [who is] simply a BAD A ( ) S." Thank GOODNESS, we … Read more
  • Luke Le Bree ~
    With your love dear Jesus thank and bless you for the many times you have looked upon myself and healed me for my separation from you, Now you give me your heart to speak with your beloved people. With your love dear Jesus thank and bless you for the many times you have looked upon … Read more
Advertisements

So funny ~

Making a baby. This is hilarious! 

There is not one dirty word in it, and it is funny!–

The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, ‘Well, I’m off now. The man should be here soon.’ 

Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. ‘Good morning, Ma’am’, he said, ‘I’ve come to..’ ‘Oh, no need to explain,’ Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, ‘I’ve been expecting you.’ ‘Have you really?’ said the photographer. ‘Well, that’s good. Did you know babies are my specialty?’ 

‘Well that’s what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat !’ After a moment she asked, blushing, ‘Well, where do we start?’ ‘Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch,  and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there.’ 

‘Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn’t work out for Harry and me!’ ‘Well, Ma’am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.’ ‘My, that’s a lot!’, gasped Mrs. Smith. ‘Ma’am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I’d love to be in and out in five minutes, but I’m sure you’d be disappointed with that.’ 

‘Don’t I know it,’ said Mrs. Smith quietly. The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. ‘This was done on the top of a bus,’ he said. ‘Oh, my God!’ Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat. ‘And these twins turned out exceptionally well – when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with.’ 

‘She was difficult?’ asked Mrs. Smith. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look.’ ‘Four and five deep?’ said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement. ‘Yes’, the photographer replied. ‘And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling – I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in.’ 

Mrs. Smith leaned forward. ‘Do you mean they actually chewed on your, uh…equipment?’ ‘It’s true, Ma’am, yes.. Well, if you’re ready, I’ll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away.’ ‘Tripod?’ ‘ Oh yes, Ma’am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It’s much too big to be held in the hand very long.’

 Mrs. Smith fainted.

Letter to my Husband ~

I love you means that I accept you for the person that you are and I do not wish to change you into someone else. It means that I do not expect perfection from you. You are a clyderscope of many roads and colours like a magical quilt put together from splinters of shiny glided tapperies of life. I love you knowing your deepest secrets, without judgement. I love you when each day begins and ends in rain or shine.

I love you means we will go down many roads and I will be your rock while every thing falls apart.

I love you means being with you is worth every second of it

Letter to my Husband ©

It time ~

“IT’S TIME!” a poem. a.k.a.:”Binkie, The Wild Hare (Hair), Always Arrives On Time!” July 14

When Binkie is ready – to move and shake,

Earth! Stand STILL! You-better-NOT-quake!

OR – make a sound because SHE’s ready:

She’s-got-IT-in-her-head, just-like-Freddy,

Krueger! – When he’s (pause) after you;

There’ll be no rest; it’s TIME! to do,

Whatever! (pause) SHE has (pause) got in mind,

It-may-not-be-pretty! It may not be kind –

BUT! It’s-got-to-be-done, without delay,

You better hide quick, OR-join-”the fray!”

REASON?

Others’ Timing?

Ends & Means?

STEP ASIDE! There-are JUMPING beans,

In her soul -’cause-she’s-got-A-PLAN!

It’s-all-organized!! Give up, man!

She’s ready to go, and you’d better be too,

When Binkie is ready: JOIN THE CREW!

Or get trampled upon, like a too-full-”concert”-affair!

SHE’S GOT IT! She’s got it!

🙂

THE R E A L WILD HAIR!  – “Hare hair; here, here!”

fin. <3

  • The Egos Con ~
    "PREPARATION" a poem September 13 2019 (Friday) IT'S ALMOST TIME TO W(H)INE AND DINE, ] Lots of PREP TIME shall be mine.] PutOnMyBestFace for THIS TIME, ] For I WANT it toBE sublime, APPROPRIATE and PROPER, see, ] WHEN FINISHED, feeling GOOD for ME, Is CRITICAL and very needed; I donotwannabe UPSET or out seeded. … Read more
  • “O. J. MAN.” a poem on: Friday The 13th September 2019
    "O. J. MAN." a poem on: Friday The 13th September 2019 (I'm telling you) IF you can find a man to squeeze you orange juice in the morning, you got it made, 'Cause an orange juice squeezer that kind of guy is (for lack of a better term:) A HIGHER GRADE, Because he USES HIS … Read more
  • Big fake ~
    "BIG FAKE" a poem for FRIDAY, September 13, 2019 A smile, A hug, An insincere I LOVE YOU; You're a fake, FOR GOODNESS' SAKE; You're NEVER authentic or true. "Well, OK, then What's Next? if you can't trust anything anyone does as really real?" A BUNCH OF FAKE PEOPLE. "You're FAKES that's just what I … Read more
  • Comfy ~ in my opinion ~
    "COMFY!" a poem September 12, 2019 (Thursday) "Don't go there." and "Stay away from him." "I'm NOT comfortable (and you shouldn't be either) with Brian or Jim, Or Robin or any unstable girl or, even, Gladys, Who hangs out at The Local Bar, [who is] simply a BAD A ( ) S." Thank GOODNESS, we … Read more
  • Luke Le Bree ~
    With your love dear Jesus thank and bless you for the many times you have looked upon myself and healed me for my separation from you, Now you give me your heart to speak with your beloved people. With your love dear Jesus thank and bless you for the many times you have looked upon … Read more

American President ~

“WHAT’LL WE DO?” a poem in the series: “Mr. Hip (Trump) Goes To Town!”* 14 July 2019 [Sunday]

(calling from “Campaign Headquarters:”)

“Mr. Trump, we’ve a dissident-poet, “diss-ing” in Texas!”

“No prob.,” said The-Don, as-he-cruised-in-his-Lexus;

“For, that poet’s STILL-A-SHEEP!

“But, sir, he-might ‘rile’ things up!”

“Not to worry,” said The President; “he’s STILL – just a pup!

A sheep, although vocal, is STILL in his pen!

Let-him ‘ba-ba’ and chatter, for-he’s-NOT-among-MEN!

He’s just stuck with sheep, and he’s-a-sheep-too;

I’ll-figure-out-in-time with-him, what-I’ll-do!”

“Heh-heh-heh, heh-heh!” went-Mr.-Trump-to-the-phone;

“JUST WAIT! ’til-I-get that-Mystic-Poet-a-lone!

I’ll shave him and starve him – and laugh-in-his-[sheepish]-eye!

I have me some plans – and they never will fly,

Off-of The Radar! I-KNOW-I’LL RULE THE WORLD!”

[Yet, as-Donald-did-talk, The Sheep had unfurled,

With-the-help-of-The-Poet some-plans to-escape,

To STEAL THE TRUMP CARD! and-even-Don’s-“cape!”

His “Comi-Con-Super-Hero Cape of Renown!”

SHEEP-MAY NOT-ALWAYS – WEAR-A SHEEPISH, LITTLE FROWN!

(from “International Sheep Headquarters:”)

“Little does Don know – we’ve a trick or two – UP OUR WOOL,

To expose any – mega-lo man-i-a-cal bull!

So, you-may-rest (NOW) in some certainty, you card-playing-Pres-i-dent,

But-just-remember: (1) Pride causes Falling! (2) For-an-overconfident-“Resident!”

fin <3

  • – It COULD BE Washington!

Dear Mr Trump ~ Give us the the love

“GOOD TIMES (SOMETIMES) COME IN THREES!”* a poem in the series: “Mr. Hip (Trump) Goes To Town!” 07/14/2019 (Sunday) July = 7 + 1 + 4 = 12 . . . 1 + 2 = 3! . . . 2 + 0 + 1 + 9 = 12 . . . 1 + 2 = 3!

(from a concerned citizen?)

Dear Mr. Trump: Not even [3] MONTHS, of-close-to-miracles, is-gonna do-it for me!

I-think maybe-closer-to-[3]0 YEARS might come-closer to makin’-up for-the last [3],

But, HONESTLY – to demonstrate EVEN “1/[3] of a reasonably permanent change,”

Would probably require [3] HUNDRED YEARS – to get me to rearrange,

My feelings – and start A LITTLE BIT, trusting you to-do,

Something nice FOR ANYONE, you-know – anyone, beside[s] YOU!

So, IF anyone calls, as you are “campaigning around,”

And says: “Consider Trump for the next term,” I’m liable to pound,

The phone right down – or, if I still can afford my mobile, to-touch-the-switch,

And, also, maybe – call “The Campaigner” – a bad name, like a b – – – – [w i t c h ?]

Because, Mr. Trump – I think, some how, you lost your Presidential Stuff,

Given [3] years of such folderol, starts-and-stops – and-lots-of-“bluff!”

There’s been SO MUCH flim-flam, man, demonstrating (basically) no scr[ew]u- PELS,

That I’m not sure if you really care if people worry-lots or get-sent to Hopeless Hells!

fin <3 🙂 – Sigh!

– or multiples of 3’s or portions of 3’s or something with 3’s!

Praise ~

“IN PRAISE OF PRESIDENT TRUMP!” a poem a.k.a.: “A Great America Is A Good America; A Great President Is A Good President!” a.k.a.: “How To Balance Diplomacy And Keep ‘Her’ Safe!” in the ever-popular series: “Mr. Hip (Trump) Goes To Town!”* Sunday: July 14, 2019

SOMETIMES, some-isolation – is-appropriate – and-blessed!

Thank God for our President, who-has given-us good rest!

For he is strong & steadfast – and guards our sacred shores,

Against those that would hurt us – and break apart our doors,

The doors we have erected, to-give-us [some] pri-va-cy;

We-LOOK-FORWARD-to-the-strangers’-knock, when-they-stop-by-for-some-tea;

A tea that’s served WITH KINDNESS, for the-respectful and the-kind;

However, there-ARE trespassers – who have a different mind:

The mind to quite profane – our hallowed, sacred land,

And YES! We’re sometimes “door mats,” when-we-won’t take “a stand,”

To-safeguard our-glorious-bride; She need NOT be defiled!

President-Trump he-seeks to-keep things-both-safe-and-mild!

So, PRAISE we give to such fair thinking, but we’ll-hope-to-never-over-reach,

For ANYTHING CAN GO TOO FAR, and, so, I do beseech,

Our President, Good President, to keep a kindly heart!

FOR, BALANCE IS SO DIF-FI-CULT! SMOOTH-SAILING IS AN-ART!

fin <3

  • – or “a town hall meeting!”