Hello, GS Fuckers!
MonkeyNET is back online after some time away. Cathartic offloading begins in 3… 2… 1.
2022 has been a wild year, keeping par for the course after the madness of 2021, and 2020… and 2019 – but, screw all that – we’ve had it forcibly jammed deep down our throats by relentless 24 hour media cycles – and yes, I said ‘down our throats’ because a cock goes DOWN the throat. I’m sure we can find a deepthroat reference in there somewhere without need to resort to low-hanging fruit like Europe or Russia or the Jews or Vladdy P-Pee.
This last year I’ve been combing through some classic cinema. Proper, old school stuff and finally, I’ve been able to put my finger on what annoys me about old Dracula films. Aside from the understandable ‘old guy kink’ for young virgins, which is often unfairly vilified, what peels the bell of my cognitive dissonance is… this guy is a vampire. He lives alone in an old castle that offers as amenities, medieval plumbing, no electricity, and no central heating. Dracula has no reflection in any mirror and yet he maintains a perfectly neat side-parting for his hair. How?
[Cue Dramatic Music]
Monkey is now a parent. I know, I know.
“But, Monkey – you always said you would never have children.”
I still feel that way. Little. Fucking. Leeches.
A child is very similar to owning a pet dog or cat, except if you lose one, or accidentally tie it up in an old jute sack and throw it into the river before anybody else wakes up on a warm August morning, nobody really asks any persistant questions; these things happen. If you lose the other, you get into lots and lots of trouble, even if it’s ‘not your fault.’
I think I have managed to distil my experience as a parent: if any other person screamed directly into your face you would punch them in the neck. Hard. Really hard. But you don’t – you’re not allowed to punch babies, just ask Louise Woodward.
Some might say having children is a wonderful experience – a period of joy. Those people live a lie. Life as a parent is 70% horrific anti-Geneva Convention torture; 30% is crying yourself to sleep from stress and strain of not punching your baby in the neck.
“Some might say”. I say fuck off to that. Seriously. I don’t care what ‘some might say’ because people often say the most ridiculous nonsense hidden behind their new shield, opinion. I’m allowed to have an opinion therefore my opinion must be valid. Yes, and no: I can have an opinion on Japan’s fiscal policy but it doesn’t mean it’s worth anything.
Something something grumble opinions assholes….
Anyway, there I was, drinking a 25 year old bottle of Bordeaux – a real beauty! – and minding my own business when I realised,
“Holy fucking shit!” that crazy ol’ German-Jew-turned-Yankee-Meddler, Henry Kissinger – the original sin vis-a-vis people believing Jews want to control the world – is still alive at 99 years old. I guess you can’t die if you drink the blood of children.
There was something about lizards but I don’t want to receive too many letters from the ADF.
Just remember, guys and girls and ‘theys’ – it could be worse.
We could be living in China.
That’s all. You may fuck off now.
Nice to see the years (and the parenthood) haven’t dulled your edge one single bit.