The State election looms, Vote for Uncle-Daddy and his sort of crap!

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Choice!

They all still have to play footsie with their bankers who talk to their bankers, who then, finally, talk to the Banksters.

Am I repeating myself?

This is why I prefer the untrammeled mental pastures of Uncle-Daddy!

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As Uncle-Daddy tries to find parking….

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Uncle-daddy, realizing that the election could be stolen and sold on the international black-market as a table ornament, rushes to the aid of democracy and takes a call from Alannah at the same time!

What a hero!

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I’m sure we’re all looking forward to being let down all over again.

But this time we can blame Uncle-Daddy. He likes the heat!

Horserotovator has glued himself to a fine piece of time.

….and today being the day after the election we now know the outcome……

I wish them all the good luck and good will I can muster while I wrestle with my own horses….!

Horserotovator has done the numbers and can say they all add up to the last six digits of pi.

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The Voters Speak! Politicians Glisten! Covered In Bucket-Loads Of Self-Congratulatory Jism!

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Now legislation gets a multiple hand-job in the Senate!

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Just to give a contrast;

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I’m just a little burned after putting that one together so I’ll save the inevitable interminable commentary of wild speculation for another time! (Probably tomorrow)……

Colin rearranges his deck! (Ends up Butthurt!)

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You got to know when to throw in the towel.

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Back out front of house….

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Is it some thing that I said over such a long period of time that has led me to this place? As I said I’m being as consistent like, even though it would be more ‘expedient’ of me to throw all my hard thought ideology into the waste-paper basket of debt-based, and fear induced, fiat currency. Even though it has the full faith and military hardware to prove it, currency only wants to be seen as one of the boys, doing the rounds and collecting the goods!

Someone wants me to write something sensible on State politics but it aint going to be me! How can you when the population is mired in the impossibility of being anything to anyone and still unable to grasp the fundamentals of living in a fiscally inverted sand-bike velodrome. As explained to us in unfathomable detail by our political elders as they alternately spend and slash on the State’s dime.

You want to know what I really think about politics? Well, you’ll have to scroll down to the comments to see where I pick-up. I need to update this now and the comments will have to wait for a bit……

Oh brother! I’ve got the radio on at the moment and I’m sitting typing and flabbergasting at the immensity of the malfeasance, the obfuscation, the arrogant disregard, the stinking hubris born of a rabid and totally blown out of proportion sense of entitlement, the greed of those who are entrusted to not do such naughty stuff as to make B.B. shine in comparison to E.B.! Shine like a rusty nail jammed bloody and immensely dissatisfied that they have been used as some kind of extended metaphor in an scene not of their literary agents liking! Torn from their original meaning and cast like a worthless harlot into a harbor of as yet untested fluids. They lay there, jerking out sniggering tunes of labors lost and other electoral defeats.

Time will not be used to testify against any type of political promise by Col’s LNP. Time has been stripped of all it’s lateral movement and will now be known as a scalar quantity only divisible by the square root of 0.

If we can’t have that then,

Everyone needs to be brainwashed so that there is no more dissent and the poor and sick just accept their lot and go quietly into the night. Like they say in those books that the elite write about the poor, sick, and disabled. Knowing some of those sort of people it would seem that most are broken by the government systems they have to beg to in order to survive anyway, so it wont be hard to herd them into gas chambers. (quietly into the night means in a quick and orderly fashion you wil be transported to the occupied territories of Palestine where you will be given full Palestinian freedom to be shot, bombed, imprisoned, and summarily executed just like the rest of them because….well, because YOU’RE ALL TERRORISTS…Sieg-Heil!)

We have to face facts! We can’t afford the poor to be sick and disabled. It’s good that they remain poor and desperate not to upset the tiny island of stability they may have developed for themselves and their loved ones. (so no one will be getting any angry emails from any of those sort of people any time soon!)  But we can’t be spending a load of money and well, rich, peoples time on poor peoples health when we have wars to prosecute and places to bomb and collateral damage to make excuses for and banks to prop-up and subsidies to large corporations to give and favors to repay after being elected on a platform that is just a thin sheet of empty promises that turn out to be a deep, thick, and oozy covering of full-on Turn-Bull-Shit!

Remember! An uppity poor person is probably a terrorist who has recently received training from a number of disreputable I.S.I.S. service providers who have not gained the proper CIA accreditation and guidance ‘fact sheets’.

None of them will give you a valid provider number so you can get a government sponsored cover story!

Horserotovator has work to do so will bid you all adieu! He also hopes you understand the concepts of satire and irony because if you don’t, well, he has no idea himself so we’re all scratching our heads!

The hidden Paradise in Cockburn Sound.

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Can you ‘sense’ Col marching up and down the street with the leaders of Daesh demanding the heads of his opponents?….. I can. I have my reasons….They would love to have me live my meager life in fear… They can go fuck themselves!

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Horserotovator has driven himself off-planet in an inarticulate expulsion of badly thought-out parallels with political events that, although not actually logically correct, will eventually be as real in the imaginations of the people as the yearning for a Big Mac and fries!

I, as an extension of God’s imagination, will now spend an extremely uncomfortable time attempting re-entry while trying not to spill the complementary sponge cake and piping hot ‘slopping’ syrup that they gave me at the check-out…..

“Oww!…..Fuck!……

It’s a One Horserotovator Town! (Up-dated for your inconvenience!)

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Uncle-Daddy is back and he’s even more deranged and unmanageable than he was previously!

This is the story of what happens when the finest minds of the known Universe can get together and decide to build and operate their very own heavy element particle collider. Or in the parlance of those people who can visualize these processes; deconstructing the fundamental forces that hold our universe together under a set of physical rules that are only as relative as the active particles and associated energy fields that occupy its space/time configuration.

Uncle-Daddy has been noticing that the time-line that he was supposed to be on has been fused with another precipitating serious consequences for the entire universe.

This tampering of time lines is a direct consequence of the weapon research being carried out at C.E.R.N. and other institutions dedicated to the wanton destruction of human life and habitat.

Uncle-Daddy, once again, has been thrust into the spotlight as the only man capable of stopping these forces from being unleashed onto an unsuspecting population rendering them all sexually obsessed with lady GaGa’s political views. (Her implants have other plans!)

West Australia’s Emperor, Colin ‘the Hedgehog’ Barnett, takes center stage once again as he has been slated for another FOUR to EIGHT YEARS in power as the ruler and deity of the Asian Western Australia. (The secret Treaties have already been negotiated and ratified between the Elites and Kim Jung Un for the Gulags to begin construction.)

Laugh all you like while they let you get raped repeatedly on Manus Island as you are treated worse than a North Korean man who has been decreed a woman for the purposes of anal rectification by the armed forces.

Speaking of armed forces,

The evidence has been assembled to question the mental veracity of Vax Vet’s decision to go all medical when he’s only previous experience was taking the fingers from dead people and threading them onto necklaces worn by all the Special Oops! personnel as talisman for the Taliban.

Asset sales boom as the prices go bust. $38 Billion becomes $70 Billion within 5 years. Hold on to your hats! It’s time to get lucky.

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C.E.R.N.’s experiments are smashing apart the forces that hold reality to a certain sort of conformity. But now with the unleashing of the collected mind of closeted, pampered, ego-centric, driven beyond sanity in pursuit of unlimited knowledge (which is power to a particle/nuclear physicist), sub-atomic particle deconstruction and reassembly technicians, we are about to find out what happens when you start playing with matches near a tank of leaking gas.

Time for a song.

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Music turns to noise then turns on it’s producer by wresting control of the creative process and sending it to itself in a return addressed envelope.

Suddenly, over a period of years, the entire vista is revealed via Google Earth.

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Meanwhile, ………

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Changing gears, finding no 4th and instead slipping time-lines, we pick up the plot-line that closely follows all the other plot-lines in a Terminator/M.I. movie…..

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Uncle-Daddy has placed himself within the Pantheon of the best at any rate.

(Up-date) It has and can I collect my prize? No! Wait. I don’t want a prize. That means that whoever authorized it probably thinks that I will panic and explode on impact. Don’t even bother thinking about it as I have already put that little notion into a duffel bag and dropped it off outside some public building to cause more trouble than it will ever be worth.

Horserotovator has bolted from the barn and is shutting himself outside the Bill Gates of Hell as we celebrate his humor!?!

Not the Whole Lot. But at least some. Uncle-Daddy Melts-Down with the West Australian Health System !

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Lets put it all together for a celebration of the twisted bowel.

(clapping, stamping, sound of floor giving way, screams as audience plunge into an uncertain future.)

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Technical details improve reliability of impossibility.

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kiahs wound and uncle-daddys blockbuster 240115 004Scene change to weird-time.

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Back to ‘normal’ Uncle-Daddy time.

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Uncle-Daddy realizing that his life is in jeopardy makes off to the ‘Top-End’ to get the help of the only Medical Officer he has known who can lick the skin off the N1H5 Bird flu without vomiting in his martini!

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Well, I hope you all liked it put into the one post.

Farewell until the next time we are fed into a inter-dimensional smoothie machine and forced to endure extreme cold, savage lust, and finally a hot sidewalk.

Horserotovator is off to one side.

Uncle-Daddy Clashes with Vax Vet’s Gina-Chip.

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To celebrate my 50th blog, I’ve developed a serious mental illness that forces me to watch re-runs of ‘Oprah’ while sobbing over old photo-albums.

If only Oprah could see Uncle-Daddy now, she’d develop one too!

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What a way to celebrate ‘Mental Illness Awareness Week’! Hanging upside down in a straight jacket while gay wrestlers recite Shakespearean prose as they dive into a vat of boiling oil after running through a thick spray of ‘Beer Batter’.

Uncomfortable mental images are a personal highlight in a world built on fantasies that one group of influential people try to foist onto the masses with limited success while another group of influential people come in behind and set up a counter-counter psy-op that convinces the people to do what the elite have decided they should do in the first instance as resistance is useless!

Why? Because people can’t think the way the descriptor writes itself.

What a week!