Tetherd Cow Ahead

I’m pretty tolerant of religious beliefs, even if I don’t agree with most of most of them. As far as I’m concerned, people are entitled to believe whatever they like as long as they don’t indiscriminately inflict those beliefs on other people. Or expect other people to even take them seriously for that matter. Unfortunately the adherents of some religious groups are just way too pigheaded to realise when they are being offensive. Either that or they simply don’t care.

So it’s a beautiful Autumn Sydney morning, blue skies, crisp cool air, red and yellow leaves all over the road. I’m walking to work listening to my iPod thinking what a glorious day it is. And then I notice that some skywriting company is making the best of the still air and scribbling something across my field of view. During the next five minutes it becomes clear that the word they are writing is ‘Jesus’.

Now I really take exception to this. On two counts in fact: one because I don’t particularly want anything being written in this beautiful pristine sky, and two because I especially don’t want someone foisting their religious beliefs on me in this irksome manner.

I’m sure these zealots have some misguided self-righteous idea that we will all have a better day knowing Jesus has made his presence felt in our skies.

I bet they would get really ticked off if someone like me was to use skywriting for some judicious personal proselytizing.

Be afraid. Maybe I just might…

I have this friend who was interested to know if it is possible to put a curse on someone online. This friend searched all over the internet and found that aside from one poxy and insipidly saccharine voodoo doll site, there appears to be nowhere at all where this can be done.

Oh very well, I know what you are all saying: “Who’s he kidding, we weren’t born yesterday! We are The Astute Cognoscenti of The Cow!”. Yes, I confess, it is no ‘friend’ I am talking about, it is ME!

Yesterday, after one last unprovoked prodding by some oily friend of Raymundo I decided that I’m as mad as hell and I’m not going to take it any more! I am being assaulted from all sides with spam. It’s getting to be a real pain in the ass. It clogs up my email, stops my friends from leaving comments on my blog and even invades my dreams. But what to do???

Then, last night, sometime around the Witching Hour, it came to me! If the little red wagon of the spammers can’t be fixed by conventional means, then it follows that I have no option but to turn to black magic.

But dammit! What the hell is this? I can buy my groceries online, book my flights online, pay my gas bill online, watch my movies online and get ordained online but evidently there is just no way to put even a basic curse on someone via the internet.

This is a failing of apocalyptic proportions!

I did find a site that offers to sell me a voodoo doll kit via mail order. A compromise, but I guess…

The one thing that immediately struck me, though, was the caveat:

Remember to ask that the person be hurt only as much as you were, no more and no less — by using a doll fairly you are in no way breaking any Universal laws.

Now this poses a difficult ethical question: How much do these spammers hurt anyone? According to Spamhaus, a site that tracks the nefarious escapades of the web’s spammers, Public Spam Enemy #1 in the top ten is the Ukraine’s Alex Blood. Mr Blood is profiled as the operator of a ‘massive botnet and child-porn spam ring’. That’s pretty bad, right? That deserves a pretty hefty curse, right?

I opted for having his eyes put out or his hands chopped off. Or both.

I mentioned it to Nurse Myra.

“I’m a bit worried about this evil streak that’s coming out in you,” she said, in a spectacular example of the Pot Calling the Kettle Black.

“Why?” I said, “Spammers are the scum of the earth!”

“Even so, that’s rather extreme…”

“What about having his dick shrivel up and drop off?” I asked. “Painfully”.

She made a face.

“Well what would you suggest?” I asked. “A bad case of diarhhoea?”

No, this will never do! I need some serious hi-tech online voodoo to kick the butts of Alex Blood and his despicable cronies. Something that doesn’t come with prudish karmic warnings.

So, Faithful Minions of The Cow, this is your mission should you choose to accept it (when I say that, you understand I am just quoting Mission Impossible and that you have no choice, n’est ce pas?):

I want you all to go out and scour the web for online black magic. These lowlife scum must be stopped!

Today, a rather sad coda to the story of feuding bikers Rodney ‘Hooks’ Monks and Russell Merrick Oldham.

As you will recall, Oldham, a man with ‘a passion for astronomy and a history of violence’ shot Monks dead in a dispute involving a romantic liaison between Monks and his parole officer. Oldham, packing heat in his handbag*, fired three shots at Monks at close range, and escaped in a taxi (I’m not making any of this up).

Oldham has been at large ever since, until last night where he waded into the ocean and, in keeping with his history of violence, shot himself. I like to speculate that he was looking at the stars.

Even this last recounting of the story has elements of the bizarre. Witnesses to the incident record that they heard two shots, before they discovered the lifeless body of Oldham. This either means Oldham was a really lousy shot, or that he was one mean and determined bastard.

RIP Russell. I hope you and Hooks make it up in the Big Club in the Sky. Or in the Other Place.

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*It was in the news report. Handbag. Read it for yourself.

OK, so Nurse Myra and I are walking along a back street near the hospital and we go past a window that looks in on shelves and shelves stacked haphazardly with hundreds of manila folders full of papers.

“I wish I could get my hands on those!” says Nurse Myra.

“Why?” I ask, wondering what evil plan she is concocting now.

“So I can tidy them up, of course”.

“Of course” I say.

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*For ‘Obvious’

Just thinking about it, perfume is the only pleasure you can have in which overindulgence has no consequence.

No hangover.

No extra pounds.

No awkward morning-after.

No habit.

No lung cancer.

Today I noticed: burning leaves, salty marine dryness from the ocean, toast, vetiver incense, wet pine chips, bacon, burnt rubber and green apples.