This journal has been discontinued n' shit. In it be place be the blog, man. Wass da difference? I'll tell yo' ass when I've worked dat shit out myself.

I've seen things yo' ass muthas wouldn't believe...
31/03/2003

By ma crude reckoning, dis be ma 100th post, man. And accordin' to ma abacus, dat shit comes just ova two years since Ah started at dis "regular" column malarkey, know what I'm sayin'? Not a wack effort, 'n a phat place to call dat shit quits, Ah feel.

Time, as Warren Ellis would say, to be someone else n' shit. I've an idea or two fo new projects to work on -- they won't involve as much writing, that's fo sure, but they'll show up here at some stage wid any luck.

Da site's not goin' anywhere -- it'll stay as be (I've made a few small updates around da place), but there won't be any new epistles turnin' up, so don't go looking n' shit. If, on da otha hand, you've just arrived here, havin' taken a wrong turn in yo' search fo kung fu lesbian vampires, do feel free to has a look around, man. A trawl through da archives should keep yo' ass amused fo while.

Before Ah go, a few updates 'n summaries:

• When be a door not a door? Ah don't know, because mine is!! Unda threat of rent-withholding, landlord showed up 'n fixed stuff n' shit. Not all stuff, 'n da lawn be still home to bush pigs 'n tapirs, but it be a start.

• Nope, da hitcounta mad seems to be gone fo good, man. Tell yo' ass what -- how's about yo' ass would-be mindfuckers just e-mail me all da humourous 'n disparagin' search strings yo' ass came up with, 'n I'll e-mail back tellin' yo' ass you's a funny bastard 'n ooh, yo' ass had me goin' fo a while there 'n whateva gots to yo' ass do next?

• Monkeys: still as funny as ever.

And wid dat Ah bid yo' ass adieu -- if yo' ass want me, yo' ass can still e-mail; otherwise you'll find me at da KAOS Forums, where some otha bastard took da name Josh, causin' me to resort to an alias n' shit. See if yo' ass can guess which one.

Toodles,

Josh
March 31, 2003

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I'm on ma time wid everyone.
26/03/2003

I'd has put somethin' up sooner, but I've been workin' on ma screenplay about a Mafia family dat opens up an Indian restaurant n' shit. Ah call dat shit "Badda-boom, Badda-bing, Butta Chicken" n' shit. Tank you, I'm here all week...

Well, I've been makin' an effort to do somethin' about ma posture dis week, 'n you'll be happy to know I'm now in constant pain, man. Don't worry, though, it be da phat kind of pain n' shit. No, da otha phat kind of pain -- da kind dat means muscles which has been gettin' an easy ride be now bein' forced to do da job they wuz supposed to do (namely ratchetin' ma spine into a shape slightly less Cro-Magnon than be usual fo me), man. Dis be of da Good.

Also phat be da news dat bastard old landlords has conceded dat we be actually entitled to some of our bond back, man. Dis has been tempered by da fact nice-guy-when-you-can-get-hold-of-him current landlord hasn't shown tha dude's face around here fo months, promptin' leaseholda to threaten withholdin' of rent if tha dude doesn't get tha dude's arse around here to fix up various sundries, know what I'm sayin'? Sundries includin' da overly sharp tongue on ma door latch dat has twice drawn blood from ma left forearm n' shit. Ah like to say I'm a person who doesn't make da same mistake twice, 'n dis bastard piece of metal has made a liar of me n' shit. And then there's da little matta of da light switch to ma room bein' outside ma room, man. And da lawn bein' a foot high 'n climbing n' shit. And da inside wall made of roofin' steel, man. Actually, that's quite cool.

Da flat, fo those dat be interested looks like this, man. Only less hillbilly-ish, now dat we've moved some of da chairs 'n boxes, man. Cow skull's still there, though, man. A-hyuck.

Oh, 'n dat shit looks as though ma pimpslapped counter, which went away a couple of weeks ago, ain't comin' back, man. Dis gots to come as a phat disappointment to da few of yo' ass who wuz loadin' ma logs wid all sorts of humourous, paranoia-inducin' search terms, know what I'm sayin'? Sorry lads, neva gots to see them.

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Opinion piece! Yaaaay!
19/03/2003

Mmm, them's some phat monkeys n' shit. Anyway.

They say opinions be like arseholes, which Ah feel does somethin' of a disservice to arseholes n' shit. Arseholes, at least, serve a vital function -- riddin' us of da effluent dat would otherwise turn us into phat bulgin' man-sacks of percolatin' ordure n' shit. Although possibly opinions could be said to do da same, Ah dunno.

What wuz Ah saying? Oh yeah.

With dis in mind, 'n since everyone else has put they oar in, 'n since Ah betta make ma predictions now before everythin' starts, here be what Ah think of da upcomin' war in Iraq:

First of all, I'm writin' dis da day afta Dubya made dat shit clear dat tha dude wuz goin' to war, wid or without allies n' shit. Well, duh n' shit. Ah don't see how dis can come as a surprise to anyone -- da amount da US has already spent on movin' troops 'n equipment into da region, they could neva has afforded not to go to war.

So, be Ah fo or against? Obviously Ah agree dat Hussein be a nasty piece of work, 'n da soona he's out of there da better, man. I'd like to think there'd be a betta way of doin' this; one dat doesn't involve bombin' a bunch of muthas who don't mad deserve it, 'n there probably is, but da reality be dat it be war or nothin' right now, so there yo' ass go.

So, be Ah fo or against? Ah would support a war on Iraq to remove Saddam Hussein if Ah felt confident dat that shit would leave Iraq in a betta state than dat shit be now n' shit. A war gots to kill thousands of innocent people, but tens of millions of innocent muthas gots to be betta off without him n' shit. Dis whole "betta off without tha dude's ass thing", though -- dat shit assumes dat whoeva replaces Hussein gots to be betta than him, 'n given da US's past record of installin' muthas who turned out to be nasty bastards (Pinochet, Pol Pot, Noriega, da Taleban, Hussein - hang on...), I'm less than confident.

So, be Ah fo or against, fo fuck's sake?! Ah guess I'm against, know what I'm sayin'? There be so many muthas who supposedly know what they're talkin' about predictin' all sorts of conflictin' scenarios: US forces gots to be greeted as liberators/Iraqis gots to neva accept American occupation; da war gots to stabilize da region 'n spread democracy/the war gots to plunge da region into chaos 'n spread fundamentalist rule; da war gots to fight terrorism/the war gots to encourage terrorism, 'n on 'n on 'n on, know what I'm sayin'? Given da level of uncertainty dis leaves me with, combined wid ma general distaste fo da thinkin' behind da whole affair (e.g n' shit. da US insistin' dat Hussein had WMDs, then insistin' dat we gots to attack tha dude's ass -- surely da one thin' dat would be most likely to provoke tha dude's ass into usin' them), Ah don't see how Ah can not be against it.

All I'm predictin' be dat whateva happens, everyone gots to be sayin' how dat shit proves 'em right, know what I'm sayin'? If everythin' turns to custard, yo' ass bet da pro-war types gots to be blamin' da peaceniks fo dat shit -- if they'd just let 'em get on wid it, etc n' shit. And if dat shit all turns out OK, there gots to still be a bunch of dead muthas 'n bombed buildings -- plenty of ammunition fo da doves to claim da cost wuz to high.

Fortunately, who gives a fuck? At da end of da day, what effect do da opinions of a single New Zealanda has on any of this? I'm as irrelevant as da US says da UN is, know what I'm sayin'? (Incidentally, Ah da claims dat da UN be now irrelevant to be like sayin' dat politeness be irrelevant, on da grounds dat it be usually easia to just punch muthas in da face to get what yo' ass want, but that's anotha argument.)

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Monkey magic n' shit. Oh yes.
12/03/2003

Ah hate every ape Ah see, from Chimpan A to Chimpan Z...

Wouldn't yo' ass know it? Just when I'm thinkin' "ooh -- about time Ah put somethin' new up", along comes Ape Escape 2 n' shit. So it be eitha justify ma online existence by producin' somethin' worthwhile 'n entertainin' fo ma doubtless impatient readership, or chase monkeys wid a net n' shit. Obviously yo' ass know where ma priorities lie.

There gots to be a brief break in transmission, in which time Ah invite yo' ass to ponda da significance of these few gems from ma web logs:

• poetry wid nasty 'n wack words like fuck, shit, etc n' shit. in them - ooh -- someone's bein' naughty!
• can cyclone bola kill you? - well, considerin' dat shit happened ova a decade ago, no.
• toasta components tungsten - ha! Got you, yo' ass fucker!
• yutani nut runner - <head explodes, know what I'm sayin'? Again>
• the americans be fuckin' bastards, 'n that's swearing! - dat shit sure is.
• pun pun geek pun - dunno why, just makes me laugh.
• does josh addison has a sex life - one of yo' ass bastards be fuckin' wid me...
• princess leia fuck fest - now you's talkin'.

And from da "Extra Scary" file:

• nicely lubricated 'n left handed - what? And what?
• split rivet machine deep throat - what?! And WHAT?!!
• arabs get fucked - dis one all da scaria fo da fact dat that's not da first time I've seen this.

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Gnnnnngh, man. Hnnnnnnnnnh, know what I'm sayin'? *snap*
04/03/2003

OK! Alright!! Ah like Kylie Minogue, OK?! Be dat what yo' ass want me to say?! Be it?!! Well??!!!

My cellphone rings wid "Can't Get Yo' ass Outta My Head", man. I'm seriously considerin' buyin' Fever, know what I'm sayin'? I'm listenin' to "Love At First Sight" right fuckin' now.

There -- be yo' ass happy? Don't judge me -- don't yo' ass fuckin' judge me!! Ah can feel dat shit -- you's lookin' at me wid yo' accusin' eyes 'n indignantly-pinched nostrils n' shit. Well fuck you! Yo' ass don't has to face New Orda fans when yo' ass mention da "Can't Get Blue Monday Outta My Head" remix! Yo' ass don't has to figure out how to get yo' bitch to buy yo' ass da "Can't Get Yo' ass Outta My Head" DVD without actually askin' ha to or givin' in 'n buyin' dat shit yourself, do you? Yo' ass muthas make me sick...

Here, look at da funny GIF:

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If da Internet wuz a man, he'd be a bad, BAD man.
24/02/2003

Right, well it be been a month or so since Ah put in da new pimpslapped counter, know what I'm sayin'? Let's see what yo' ass filthy bastards has been searchin' da Internet for, dat brought yo' ass to ma virtual doorstep.

Oh sweet Jesus.

<has minor embolism>

Right, well that's out of da way -- how to sum dis all up? Depressingly, da most common search items be Don Hertzfeldt films (buy tha dude's DVDs yo' ass wretched, spongin' vermin) 'n videos of Annabel Chong n' shit. Da remainin' search terms can probably be divided into a few broad categories, startin' obviously with:

People Lookin' fo Porn

Lotsa muthas searchin' da web fo porn -- who'da thunk it? Da searches dat brought 'em to ma site ranged from worryingly graphic (gay shit arse pictures, male shit holes, world's biggest pussy -- tank yo' ass Mr, man. Timberlake) to worryingly specific (nasty heterosexual movies wid phat lookin' male 'n female bodies, naked chinese hoes naw pop ups, unfeasibly big ass breasts) to worryingly graphic 'n specific (download mojo jojo fuckin' powerpuff, lesbian dwarves shit porn, capoeira gay fuck) to just plain worryin' (mexican wrestla movies rape? clay animation porn?? meerkat porn???), man. And I'm mad not sure what to make of da person searchin' fo oooooh fuck me pussy, man. I'm mad not.

People Who Frighten Me

See above, plus da following:

• mr mosquito nudity -- what?
• guys gettin' punched in da testicles (pictures) -- why?!
• donald sutherland male naked -- WHO??!!
• killa animation bunnies evil -- wh- actually, naw that's fair

This category also contains a sub-section Ah like to call What Can Dat Possibly Mean?, which includes such gems as:

• teachin' manna of fuck photo
• security proof anime porn
• nope, man. ya dead or at least has had a severe ass kicking

Answers on da back of a postcard to:

Josh Addison
Just follow da screaming
Auckland
New Zealand

People Who Seem To Be A Bit Confused

Some folks just seemed to be a bit bewildered, resultin' in one poor soul lookin' fo jenny from da block by christina aguillera - not quite, mate, man. One also wonders what would has prompted a person to search da Internet wid da phrase what does giraffe pussy mean? What indeed? Ah know, but I'm not telling.

People Searchin' fo Things Giraffe-Related

Understandably, a phat amount of muthas showed up lookin' fo things to do wid giraffes, man. Fair enough (good giraffe, giraffe rhymes, perspective of da giraffe), know what I'm sayin'? Although (giraffe ufo, giraffe birthday man, where's da giraffe in da box) some muthas (giraffe porn, giraffe pimp, giraffe shit) had me a bit worried (stupid giraffe fucking, giraffe penis pictures -- giraffe face shots?).

Still, naw amount of rampant perversion could remove da pride dat comes from knowin' dat Google considers ma site to be anotha word fo giraffe.

People Who Think Just Like Me

Continuin' in da theme of pride, dat shit also pleases me naw end to discova dat there be naw shortage of folks lookin' fo da 'mo obscure kind of pop culture reference that's close to ma heart n' shit. As well as several Evil Dead/Army of Darkness search terms, Ah (or rather, ma pimpslapped counter) encountered folks lookin' fo Al Leong, Dolph Lundgren, Rutga Hauer, Matthias Hues (neva did him) as well as a bunch of references to films themselves (chaank, naked space chick, graboid, 'n yes -- necron 99), know what I'm sayin'? Life be good.

People Who Make Me Glad To Be Alive

Obviously Ah consida dat shit a phat thin' dat muthas found ma site searchin' fo naw 'mo than good shit, 'n an even betta thin' dat fucked up shit strange crap gots 'em here as well n' shit. Ah choose to believe it be a compliment dat freaky-deaky sex land showed up in da logs, 'n who wouldn't want they site to be a source fo fisticuff techniques?

Still not sure what to make of da fact dat someone gots here wid da almost Zen-like search term of goat, though.

Take that, George C, man. Scott!!
19/02/2003

It has been suggested dat da Marquess of Queensbury wuz a bit of a poof (largely due to da fact dat tha dude wuz called da Marquess of Queensbury) n' shit. Ah believe dis to be untrue, howeva -- only a hard bastard would come up wid rules fo fightin' dat prohibit blows to da groin n' shit. Oh no, hang on, turns out da "no touchin' da bathin' suit area" rule wuz around even before him, in da days of bareknuckle boxing, know what I'm sayin'? Hard muthafuckas indeed, so ma point still holds.

Let me explain: da blow to da groin be da Great Levella -- naw matta how big ass 'n how strong, one swift whack in da canastas 'n any muthafucka gots to go down like an altar boy at a priest convention, man. Which means it be in da interests of a big, strong muthafucka to has dat shit blackballed (pun intended -- oh so intended), since it be basically da only chance a lessa muthafucka has of puttin' tha dude's ass on tha dude's arse.

Neva havin' attended one of those American high schools we always hear about where da "jocks" be constantly beatin' up on da "nerds", Ah can only mad speak hypothetically here, but I'm assumin' dis conspiracy starts phat 'n early in a young man's development, know what I'm sayin'? Right from da start, da weedy academic types be put 'n kept in they place by da hulkin' sporty types, against whom they be helpless to fight back, know what I'm sayin'? Only of course they're not -- one in da family jewels would show any one of these bulgin' misanthropes who wuz da bitch of whom, know what I'm sayin'? So to cova they Achilles Heel (Achilles Groin?), they perpetuate da "rules" of fighting, know what I'm sayin'? Knockin' da shit out of a muthafucka half yo' size be fine, but a kick in da nuts? Oooh -- that's just not on, know what I'm sayin'? That's against da rules.

Although.. n' shit. yo' ass know what dis reminds me of? There wuz dis old game Ah used to has on ma Amiga 500 called Megalomania -- one of those god-sim games where yo' ass control a little tribe of muthas through da ages, developin' weapons 'n doin' in da otha tribes n' shit. Dat shit wuz all phat fun while yo' ass wuz controllin' little cavemen throwin' sticks at each other, but by da time yo' ass gots to da lata levels 'n nuclear weapons came on da menu, da game turned into a mad dash to be da first to build nukes, wid da winna then obliteratin' all opponents in a couple of seconds, man. Which, obviously, wuz fun if yo' ass wuz doin' it, but dat shit made da game less enjoyable overall n' shit. Ironically, da most technologically advanced weapon of war wuz da one dat caused yo' ass to resort to da most direct, brutish tactics, know what I'm sayin'? Sigh.

Relevance: da blow to da groin be basically da A-bomb of da mano-a-mano milleu -- over-proliferation of dat shit would make any altercation into a simple race to see who could connect toe wid teste first n' shit. Which would take.., man. all of the.., man. fun? strategy? skill? out of willfully.., man. injuring.., man. another.., man. human being.., know what I'm sayin'? nope, ignore dat last bit.

Ah wuz talkin' bollocks.

"We goin' out on dat one?" "Looks like it..."

My T-shirt says "kung fu monkey".
15/02/2003

"Britney Spears makes muthafuckas feel baaaaad -- 'hit me baby one 'mo time?' No!! If they find out about da first time I'll lose ma job..."

Da "virgin-whore" dichotomy be a concept that's fairly widely used today -- widely enough dat Ah kain't actually find an origin fo da term, man. As a concept it be used to discuss da damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't situation dat hoes still find themselves in today's society -- if you's not a naive, inexperienced virgin, you's a filthy slapper n' shit. It be also used in reference to da idea dat mean (well, some men) want they hoes to be pristine 'n untouched 'n yet at da same time knowledgeable, experienced 'n enthusiastic in da bedroom department, know what I'm sayin'? Such observations inevitably brin' up da topic of Britney Spears 'n ha ilk n' shit. No, really.

They all play up to dis dichotomy (hence they popularity, Ah guess); none 'mo so than Ms n' shit. Spears herself -- "I'm Not a Girl, I'm Not Yet a Woman"?! Ferfucksake, man. Anyway, da thin' is, as a marketin' ploy, dat shit can only end in tears n' shit. These wee pop tartlets end up eitha disappearin' back into da obscurity from which they wuz plucked by record company execs (whence Mandy Moore? Jessica Simpson, anyone?), or they get to da point when they can naw longa credibly hold on to da virgin bit, 'n all they're left wid is.., man. Christina Aguillera, man. Tha byatch wuz da first to fully go Da Way of da Skank, but it be on da cards fo da rest of them, unless they can successfully reinvent themselves as grownups.

But enough post-feminist discourse, man. Dis post be obviously little 'mo than an attempt to boost ma site's pimpslapped count by name-droppin' some of da 'mo common paedophile bait out there -- let's see if dat shit works...

Did tha dude just say "blindness"? Yeah -- tha dude also said "if'n".
08/02/2003

Yo' ass know dat cellphone rin' dat goes "danala-na danala-na danala-na naaa"? Da one dat almost certainly qualifies fo Most Annoyin' Cellphone Rin' in da World, Ever? Turns out that's da "Nokia Tune" -- da signature Nokia rin' tone, sort of like dat default Windows startup ditty, or dat little chord dat Apple Macs used to make when they started n' shit. (Do they still do that? Da last time Ah saw an iMac, Ah wuz 'n all busy masturbatin' ova da ridiculously pretty if not entirely functional GUAh to be able to process sounds.) Da fact dat Nokia be responsible fo da single most insidious 'n piercin' item of noise pollution in da world today be almost enough to destroy ma brand loyalty wid them, man. Almost, but not quite (Ah discovered da name of dat tune when Ah saw dat shit on da list of ringtones on ma brand new Nokia 3510).

Da last few messages dat Warren Ellis has sent out on tha dude's Bad Signal mailin' list has talked about brandin' a bit - tha dude seems to be in an anti-brandin' phase at da moment, cuttin' da logos off every artifact 'n item of clothin' in tha dude's possession 'n what, man. I've nothin' against brands -- if I'm not just plain ignorin' 'em (as Ah be most of da time), I'm genuinely usin' 'em to inform ma purchasing.

Now, anyone wid even vague pretensions toward alternativeness (alternativity?) be obliged to ignore clothin' labels, 'n fair enough -- Ah wear clothes Ah like da look 'n feel of, know what I'm sayin'? And cars (or at least, da sorts of cars dat Ah be eva likely to possess) be all da same to me, know what I'm sayin'? Ah had to train myself to say "I-drive-a-nineteen-ninety-three-Nissan-Sentra" instead of "Ah has a red car".

Electronic goods be where brands matta to me, know what I'm sayin'? Ah like Nokia cellphones, Sony audio gear (and gamin' consoles) 'n Compaq computers (see previous rant fo why Ah buy computers out of da box from chain stores), man. Ah figure these things be kinda delicate 'n precise 'n maybe dat shit doesn't pay to take chances, so Ah go by brands, man. It be about security; it be about trust; it be about not havin' to engage 'n all many higha brain functions while partin' wid a shitload of money fo somethin' smalla than ma hairbrush.

It be basically about habit, man. I'm actually in an uncharacteristic period of experimentation right now, man. Buyin' new phones, a big ass new monitor fo ma PC; Ah just switched from Internet Explora to Opera (love those mouse gestures), know what I'm sayin'? In most cases, change be right off da menu, 'n da brand Ah like be simply da first one Ah tried, 'n when dat worked out OK Ah stuck wid it, ratha than risk tryin' somethin' new 'n havin' dat shit turn out to be worse n' shit. Be dat a metaphor fo something? Probably, but fuck off.

Like Lord of da Dance, only wid flies.
02/02/2003

Somethin' strange be happening n' shit. It be summer, so da house be full of flies -- nothin' strange there, know what I'm sayin'? Yet, man. Thin' is, wheneva Ah notice there's a whole shitload of 'em around Ah get up, go get da flyspray, turn around -- 'n they're gone n' shit. Not a fly to be seen.

It be an unsettlin' experience -- sort of like da first time yo' ass catch yourself in da mirror usin' an electric toothbrush, know what I'm sayin'? In dat particular case, da realization dat you's fellatin' a vibratin' piece of plastic be fairly quickly sidelined by da realization dat yo' ass can make phat sounds by openin' 'n closin' yo' mouth while you's usin' it, but wid da flies.., man. Da obvious 'n only conclusion to be drawn be dat they know.

Like those sharks on Deep Blue Sea dat could recognize weapons 'n ended up eatin' Saffron Burrows -- dat gots to not happen here! Dis house gots to always be safe fo Saffron Burrows.

Havin' thought about it, Ah realize dat dis situation be not without its advantages, know what I'm sayin'? Dealin' wid super-intelligent flies as Ah undoubtedly be offers new possibilities of mental warfare, where previously only da usual physical 'n chemical varieties wuz available n' shit. In dat spirit, Ah gots to be kickin' things of wid a propaganda leaflet drop in da kitchen, followed by food parcels in da bathroom, in an attempt to cause da flies to rebel against they leaders 'n surrenda they forces to me n' shit. At dis point Ah gots to be commander-in-chief of ma own fly army -- a "Lord of da Flies", if yo' ass gots to -- 'n will, Ah don't know, take ova da world or something.

In da unlikely event dat that fails I'll just buy a shiny big ass fly swatta 'n take to stalkin' da flat dispensin' bloody death to anythin' dat be A) six-legged 'n B) in ma fuckin' airspace.

In fact, fuck it, dat sounds like 'mo fun -- I'll just do that.

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