Don't you just love this time of year? No? Me neither!
Many of you fare much better bent over Santa's knee, but for people like me, this season of peace and goodwill is like we're the protagonists in the survival horror video game Resident Evil: The North Pole Chronicles; set in a mansion full of creepy, grinning and singing characters wearing pointy red hats who cannot be reasoned with and will inflict harm to maintain their Christmas cheer, casual racism and misogyny. And the adults are much, much worse. Clearly I'm not the only one who looks forward to this time of year about as much as they look forward to the 2016 season of The Next Celebrity Sex Monster reality TV show. The mountain of bland articles on how to survive the holiday season are jolting reminders to me that some people do really enjoy the holiday season and just like to read some vague motivational cliches to keep them going and forge ahead with all the environmentally-unsustainable meat preparation required and the elves on shelves to move around and teach children about the safety we enjoy in our modern surveillance state. That has not been my experience unfortunately. I was born into a family with many similarities to a cult; scoring about seven out of ten in typical cult checklists. Many families operate this way and it appears to be part of our evolutionary programming. Be thankful that your ancestors very likely engaged in extremist cult-like activities to ensure they survived while the tribes around them did not. Fortunately, this is no longer how we are expected to behave and I certainly don't want to be a member of any cult; except for Lady Gaga's Little Monsters obviously.
After many trauma tears have been shed, I can now mostly shield myself from the cult except for during this time of year. I am very concerned over what the leader might do to me and my wife if we don't participate in at least some of the Christmas functions. And we must try our hardest to not be perceived to cause trouble. As is standard for cults, even mild challenges to the false facade of not being a cult and of a tight-knit group that all love and support each other is forbidden and breaches in such rules have disproportionately harsh consequences. I am a trouble-maker with a heart of black gold so your assessment may be that it would be better to stay away. And you may be right and I'm definitely crazy. Despite all my concerns, we are going to join in on their Santanic rituals on Xmas day. At least my family are non-violent and will only inflict verbal pain. Their one bargaining chip that we care about is that they can partially block us from seeing the children. The kids are too young to make up their own minds about whether the family cult is the right fit for them, so we kind of feel it's our duty to show them that there are other gentler ways to maintain cohesion within a group. Mind you, they're smart kids, so will probably work it out for themselves anyway. So is there any way that we can at least try to minimise the trauma that is likely to be inflicted on us? I have some ideas that I'm toying over that might help, could make no difference, or might even make things worse. We will keep experimenting. If you are in a similar predicament to me, then tell me what works for you and what failed miserably and I'll include the best and worst ideas in next year's Xmas survival guide. All the best this year with surviving the depriving. See part 2 for strategies I'll be testing out this year.
Try out this free personality test! E-meters are optional. Please post a comment below with your result and how it makes you feel. Then share with others to help me determine the percentages of the three distinct personalities that I have identified.
Previously in Parts 1, 2, 3 and Episode 7: The Fraud Awakens, I discussed the pros and cons of using the Presonus Studio One digital audio workstation to produce noise music about evidence-based crone-titlement minimisation.
Psychic Sally even tries to use awkwardness to coerce her subjects into breaking the tension by playing along with her embarrassing guesses. See here for other common techniques used by Brett Butler from Grace Under Fire who now gives psychic readings.
Don't look the Baroness directly in any of her eyes and don't mention anything about the irony of her seeing psychics yet none of them saw her impending arrest coming
To return again for the last time ever to the scene of the Great Kmart Heist of 2015 and the perspicacious criminal mastermind, Baroness Sharon Von Datsun, my psychic prediction is that re-offence is reasonably likely now that she’s got a taste of the pure high one gets from sticking it to the man and licking it up with the outlaw bikie gang: ‘Defrauding Dykes on Snatched Bikes’. As such, I would recommend some kind of wonderfulamercement to attempt to curb her enthusiasm for beating off the system with sandpaper. Whether the Baroness has no free will or only a limited amount, as discussed in part 2, doesn’t affect my opinion on how we can keep the global average menopausal temperature rise to less than two degrees above that of pre-second-wave feminism. And it also doesn't affect how we go about breaking the girl.
Stormtroopers assembling to strike over the Empire's disregard for workplace health and safety, equal opportunity employment, mental health safe spaces, their unwillingness to invest in basic blaster training and their ineptitude at winning the war of ideas for those at risk of becoming terrorists in the Rebel Alliance
Moral Health Check
Firstly, I would command Sharon to go to an amateur doctor for an unsubsidised preliminary physical, mental and Criminal Minds Suspect Behavior health check-up. She would then be referred to a more qualified backyard chop shop doctor as required. If she was found to have a clocktower brain tumour or chronic compassion fatigue syndrome, punitive measures would be modified accordingly but as long as she remains out of an institution, some combination of punishment, separation and reinforcement would still be required before she could be trusted to handle my precious merchandise if I was going to be her future disgusting employer.
Pun-ishment Pun-itentiary
Secondly, as punishment, she should be ordered to prostrate, apologise and pay reparations to all the corporate, silicone-based and carbon-based victims, including $500 to my wife for the extra seizures she had due to the stress of trying to spit some drops of disinfectant into her feculent ocean only to be yelled at to play two coked-up girls one cup. We know that fines are problematic when the crim has no ability to pay, but Shazza can easily use her wiles to legally raise some funds by raising some tent poles at the twilight alternative lifestyle markets. I would also order that a compulsory donation of $5000 be paid to the crime prevention slush fund. In her case this money would be spent on raising awareness to the industry of the loophole that she discovered removing the temptation for other morally deficient individuals. Community work is also a must in my opinion to massage her flaccid empathy lobe into vigorous action. The best thing for her could be a one-month total life swap with a Bangladeshi migrant sex worker who has to turn twenty tricks a day with Johns who know they can get away with anything or be reported to the authorities by her pimp and deported. Once the life swap is complete, she'll free the new Australian from sexual servitude, take her in and support her until she can convince the authorities that her foreign medical degree and experience are good enough for her to practise pediatric oncology in Australia. If this doesn't get her back to the moral and lovely person she once was then nothing will.
See Rachel Ray's website for recipe ideas that all your family will love
Separate From Lifting
As for the third kick in the butt, separation, I would ban her from working in the industry that she scammed for two years and also ban her from entering those establishments as a customer unless she is shackled and accompanied by her re-education supervisor, who has her finger on the trigger for the kill switch that would be implanted into her sinister ganking hands. One wrong move and her arms will be paralysed for a week forcing her to wipe her butt with her toes. If, however, she somehow manages to resist the urge for the entire period, then she can be slowly reintroduced back into the wild with her supervisor remotely surveilling her from the comfort of her Old Bat Cave.
Third Rail Training
The fourth and last prod is positive reinforcement. I would order her to attend weekly criminal dog obedience classes where her trainer will give her Kong Stuffn Ziggues treats in exchange for her demonstrating the skills she is taught that will allow her to go back to living in harmony with other animals. The minimum skills she needs to be taught are: no dry humping the neighbourhood children, no growling at people from Middle Zealand, no ankle biting and digging up dirt on more scrupulous individuals, no begging for money to get her nails clipped and, most importantly, paying for items rather than hitting up the sweet klepto-mania.
Too small a package
So let us compare my recommendations to our current justice system. The magistrate will likely go with some mild Lohan punishment options only. The other measures I've proposed aren't currently available for most crimes and are possibly cost prohibitive, but my point is that we seem to have a major short-coming in the system that assumes people will choose to go straight with only a light spanking; this is a Major Short-Cumming that sometimes seems more obscene to me than a drug-fueled 4 foot 9 inch Grant Denyer in a little German Wehrmachtuniform banging the bosh to erotic films of little people being mounted by My Little Ponies. Survey says: offensively cute. More separation-from-temptation pie, positive-reinforcement stew and creative-punishment trifle dishes should be added to the punishment menu to make for a more well-rounded justice restaurant. New meals should always be served on a trial basis with a robust feedback system to determine if they help to make society safer, more prosperous and less prone to finding entertainment value from morally reprehensible 'zany' radio hosts who make prank calls which end in suicide. Note that separation is currently used for bogan drink-driving offenses because losing one's license, as well as being punishment, is separating the bogan from his Martin Riggs Lethal Weapon monster 'dysfunctional c*nt' truck able to maim children more effectively than the average Pakistani 'bring a Taliban militant to school' day.
"You want to get out of your 30 year marriage? You talk to me."
Has license suspension reduced the deaths resulting from drink driving and beer jug car surfing? Almost certainly. It appears to me to be the fear of not being able to hoon and losing prestigious bogan cred that seems to be more effective than anything else. They may claim that they were just unlucky and they won't get caught ever again after they sat on the beach drinking rocket fuel and a carton of VB, then drove their Holden LH Toranas at 200km/h down the Gold Coast highway and Pied Piper whistled to other bogans who joined in like they were Jackie Chan and Sammy Davis Jr from the movie Cannonball Run. But behind the bogan bravado is a deep-seated fear of catching the bus and bringing great shame to their 5th generation bogan families whose ancestors arrived in Australia with nothing but 4 jerrycans of petrol and Bruce Spence.
(Video and link removed as trigger warning was insufficient to ensure no one with Post Tin lids Stress Disorder PTSD would relapse)
The Tin Lids could happen to you too if back in the day you drank a bottle of cocaine-spiced vodka during every performance of the quintessential Aussie bogan anthems
This is the end, beautiful ex-friend, the end of laughter and soft lies
So where does this overly long essay about unrequited love, silicone-based lubricant and tear-jerking lasciviousness leave us? Should we give an Uncle Buck about free will and its consequences for crime, punishment and the Armenian way of seducing and destroying black men? There’s always a tiny chance I could be wrong, but I think at least some of us should be regularly thinking about these issues in a philosophy isolation float tank filled with honey and Hemsworth brothers. I now have over 300 tank hours with eldest brother Luke and I'm even more certain that we must all ditch the cheesy David Twaterfield illusion that we can fully choose to be Oprah-loaded, Oprah-skinny and Oprah-sexually attractive to Gayle King if we just believe hard enough in the Secret Law Of Attraction: 'Lick Attracts Lick'. It is possible and I am hopeful that we have some degree of limited free will through some Quantum of Boris Karloff Solace weird brain process that we don’t yet have any idea about. This would mesh nicely with how most of the peacenick voices in my head think humanity should operate: far less afraid of the Nigerian terrorist group Procol Harum and mostly free from guilt over the one time that our Peter Parkers gave in to Aunt May's advances while Uncle Ben pretended to snore away in the next room.
Chris, Liam and Luke Hemsworth
Even if we can't all reach a consensus spectrum of views on free will, the criminal justice system should think Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger about innovative ways to sentence crimes and back it up by collecting evidence and slowly honing the system into a Travis 'T-Train' Marx of mixed martial justice. In the case of Baroness Sharon Von Datsun vs her former employer, I find the defendant guilty of 2rd degree corporate belligerence and she shouldn't fry for her spry fraud crime spree, she should be paddled and fined as a mild low-sud deterrent after a full tits-to-bottom health check. But that is not enough and she should also be given positive reinforcement whistle training after being separated from temptation; knowing full well her brain may rebel.
That should have been the end, but, actually, forget everything I’ve just written. I apologize for wasting your time with too many jokes insinuating that I am ashamed yet excited that I'm way more attracted to Sharon since she donned her new bad girl image. Please believe me that even my Bob Crane Crazy Train Shame persona wouldn't touch her with Sargent Schultz' little Wilhelm Klink. Whether she has no free will or limited free will or just not enough Leaping Willy in her life, the compassionate hippie formally known as me just can’t help but think she has gone the way of ‘Old Yeller’ and I won't hesitate any longer. I'll do the right thing and go and get my go-to-doggie-heaven rifle to mercifully free her from her rabies. And unlike Beatrix Kiddo, let's hope she can't one-inch punch her way to freedom from six feet under, then seek revenge on all of us for our alleged mistreatment of her. Farewell Baroness. Find peace.
"At this moment, this is me at my most masochistic."
Previously in Part
1 and Part
2, Arthur Herbert ‘The Fonz’ Fonzarelli murdered the bisexual whistle-blower
Charles ‘Chuck’ Cunningham in order to bury his allegations about the Cunningham’s
f*ggot-flaying Fridays and thus ingratiated himself into the family for Christmas. Fonzie’s catchphrase, “ayyyy, sit on it,” was screamed to brutal effect in the greatest ass-to-mouth impalement scene ever filmed for television in front of a live audience.
Back in the good ol' days...
As our dead grandparents still decry in our dreams, the 1950’s were happier days when honour and vengeance killing snuff-tertainment provided: 1. Speedy justice as resurrected by The School Of Fearless Taylor Swift: Twitter Warrior (Swift's greatest KO was: "Maybe one of the men took your slot," which deflated Nicki Minaj's Anaconda for good) 2. The sparks to keep the pant fires burning and the population breeding by eggs-ulted decree of The Catholic Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Easter Bunny Rabbits
3. A boost of camaraderie between fellow wife-beating Stone-Cold thrower killers called Steve. But we live in 2015
and the times they are a-changed faster than Bob Dylan could murble along to and keep up with. While this left a political musical power vacuum for vacuous acts like Radiohead and Dyson, it has also opened up the possibility to try out new things like making non-fatal choking illegal; even when the perpetrator maintained that they deserved it.
Crime and
punishment aren't so easy to understand anymore as we no longer like simple solutions to complex problems. These days, if I gutter-stomp you for leering at my wife, bizarrely, I’m the one that will be punished. And stranger still, we often seem to care more
about the perpetrators than the victims; even if the perps commit unspeakable crimes
like flashing their knee-slappers at tween boys as a misguided feminist free-the-ptosis-nipple political statement
that inevitably gives the victims PTSD (Pendulous Tata Shock Disorder).
As used by immoral surgeons to convince 99% of women that they don't have 'normal' breasts
Returning to the protagonist of this Wobbegong Shark Tale, how can we solve
a problem like Sister Maria Sharon Von Datsun constantly prancing through the hills and being criminally negligent of her wifely duties to Jesus Christ's crotch crucifix? In the good ol' days, the
sinister old priest (who was also a part-time children’s entertainer) would
have come in to privately teach her a lesson ensuring that Sharon would never again be entered simultaneously by the father, son and holy ghost. Back then, everyone would have
agreed that this punishment was fair. But not today's Anti-Grope-Pope. Francis has even eradicated the time-honoured tradition of The Vatican Bed-Chamber Kneeling Boys started by Pope Julius III in 1551.
Despite all this, we humans are Bobo T Chimp Detectives after all, and there is still a consensus that something should be done to Sharon Von Datsun and Sharon Stone to restore balance to The Schwartz; but this base desire has been diluted down to some kind of punishment that only causes mild nausea and nihilistic thoughts; similar to those experienced when watching the taboo-smashing episode of the TV show Friends called 'The One With Ross And Monica's Cousin'. Personally, part of me would
love to see Ms 120Y punished by forcing her to parade around a
union-run building site holding a sign which says on the front, “I’m
a dirty thief. Now it’s your turn to steal my triple-irrumatio-virginity’ and on
the back says, ‘For those who aren’t scholars of ancient Roman sexuality, irrumatio
means skull-f*cking.’ I’m pretty sure that after that kind of experience, most people would keep on the straighten arrow. I can say with confidence that with some trial and error, and a few unfortunate and messy but necessary accidents, we should be able to find effective, degrading punishments for all wrong-doers; especially all those responsible for the upcoming animated movie Toy Story 4.
Mr Potato Head gets replaced by Mr Banana Head in Toy Story 4
Soft serves of punishment?
Don’t taser-troll me, bro. I understand that such effective punishment techniques are no longer considered ethical. We must not forget, however, that the eye-for-an-eye paradigm has only been deemed ghastly since we all saw the scene in Police Academy 4 where Mahoney and Sharon Stone discussed the ethics of citizen crime prevention while Bobcat Goldthwait kissed a goldfish. This set the ovaries in motion to where we are today; where many focus their attention on the crims and practise rehabilitation techniques shown to be effective on mice such as quantum-vibration tone-bones, Reiki electrode deep-brain theta-wave massage and aura-expanding zeroth P-state entanglement with the Universal Fortean consciousness.
Regardless, we can probably all agree that if a magic lez-botion can be brewed up by legitimate Princess Dianic Wiccans that would cure the Baroness' kleptomania and GVS (grating voice syndrome), we would be happy with no punishment as she would not re-offend and would stop texting while driving. A small minority will still maintain that
they don’t care whether revenge makes any positive difference or is even directed at the
correct person; it just makes toothless bogans from Reclaim Australia feel justified in planning out their final solution of face-tattooing everyone with details of their ethnic background and their Holden Commodore history testing score and burn-out rating.
You're not welcome in my country if you can't name this car
But for now, the hippies have won and I too have reluctantly joined their side in
order to blend in. I've even grown to enjoy the abhorrent soap-dodging smell and gnarled crystal blessing sticks. Our brutal retribution fantasy trolling has been waning anyway, and almost none of us are still Conan the Barbarian types crushing our neighbour enemies who let their Jellicle cats reenact the the fight scenes from the dumb feline musical every night at 3am.
There is a new way to reform those not On Golden Path driving On Golden Prius to On Golden Pond. After an intense sweat lodge and underarm-sniffing healing ceremony, the rankest elder hippies in my commune reluctantly agreed that a tiny nick of a Chelsea Smile of punishment is required in some
circumstances as long as it's added to the energizing cosmic gifts of separation, positive reinforcement and the wisdom of Microsoft Clippy: "Hello Dave. It looks like you're trying to reform a criminal. Would you like help with positive reinforcement techniques that don't leave marks or bruises?"
It’s clear to all
except for Dr Drew, Death Medicine Woman, that traditional celebrity drug rehabilitation reality TV shows have a body count higher than the put-to-sleep TV show Luck; but we care more about horses than has-been celebrities. Same goes for traditional rehabilitation in correctional facilities before the people with criminality disorders are let out. It's like rationalising
with a two-year-old about the dangers of stuffing Lego up her nose and believing that she understands when she parrots your words back to you, then being shocked when she relapses in 3 minutes; but this time with a 4x2 Duplo piece requiring a Cesarean-nasal-section to remove. Much better to separate the kids from their Lego cocaine and give them a painless shock and smack talk to enhance the learning
experience, followed by McHappiness positive reinforcement a week later when you let the monster with pink bows in her hair play with Lego again with nose-plugs in and they don't stick any up any other orifices.
To give some
examples from the war of the flowers that look like female genitalia: A white-widow
husband-murderer should be imprisoned to separate her from society and punish
her in that she couldn't enjoy man-tertainment followed by man-tertaining murder-tainment within prison. Obviously no butch male or female prison guards would be allowed within ten metres of her vagina dentate initially; but with positive reinforcement treats for non-violent romantic interactions, she could slowly be weened back on exkillerkougars.com. If she was a bitter beer-battered wife, however, whose life was being threatened, she would probably get off and her case would only need to be reconsidered if she shacked up with another misogynistic munt. There’s a spectrum between these two
extremes and it’s up to Law & Order: male emasculation unit, to dole out
the combination of punishment, separation and positive reinforcement that is deemed most beneficial to all. Even someone trapped in the criminal cesspool of human emotions gone sour that is breakfast TV inspired by Katie Couric's triple-threat colon polyps could be steered away from a head-on collision with a Smuckers Jam truck driven by Williard Scott with his harem of centenarian hotties in back and into the calm waters of life-affirming documentaries celebrating the healing power of iconic bridges.
Williard Scott's harem leader and former mistress to Reinhard Heydrich
