I have always been wary of that spindly limbed, elastic Gumby-like physique projected onto Peter Garrett, and not just cos of his shithouse dancing - which, incidentally resembled "The Monkey" on crack, but cos he's highly questionable..
And this creepy, sinister shadow was cast even BEFORE he sold his tree-huggin soul out to the Federal government, embraced by some indulgent, bullshit ministerial role.
So, Kevin Rudd reasoned:
"he's a rock star and he likes to sing about hardcore greenie type issues, so let's make up this all-encompassing portfolio of, say, the arts and the environment or something...we might need to whack water onto it at some point.."
"It's just too, too perfect..I mean to cut most of National Music Academy's funding now that I've milked the bloody industry for all it's got...then...oh then, those, bahhh haaaa uranium mines! The irony is almost lyrical, like one of my awesome songs.."
Then there was that sinister little warning he issued by reuniting with the Oils only to sweat and pant over the yesteryear hit of "Beds are Burning"... at the bushfire relief concert..
I figure that the sick bastard has been plotting national genocide all along, from the day he formed midnight oil..the power and the passion should not be applied to our pink batts in any case..
Well I am glad almost that I suffer in sweaty pools of security knowing that I have no midnight oil in my music collection and no bloody insulation in my roof..
Is this the scary pre-emptive glance into a bleak political future cluttered with homicidal and washed up celebrities, dumb as shit?
Sorry, this little outburst has stemmed from a bit of prior Pobjie study...click above for reference..
**Let me be explicit in disclaiming this as a JOCULAR blog posting, simply a JOCULAR posting**
