Archive for January, 2014

Ever since the double Pulitzer winning scribe and wife stabber Norman Mailer shuffled off this mortal coil to ascend to the heavens to punch out angels the literary world has been without a true maverick.  For many his last few works were sub-par and without concrete substance, lacking the fire and grit which made his earlier works the classics they are today, from the bloody awful poetry in Cannibals and Christians to the rather dull love affair in Harlot’s Ghost.  But hark!  Here at Sortitaht Towers we have been on a long and groovy search for Mailer’s lost works, and found them down an old tramp’s pants.  So, without further ado (apart from this bit, which is completely pointless and a bit overblown and needless, a lot like some of Mailer’s work, come to think of it, yapping on and on and saying things like ‘The city was a woman laid out for the pleasure of mankind’ which is bollocks when you think about it – anyway, I digress) we bring you Norman Mailer’s unpublished works. 

Of A Fire In My Balls – The Apollo 12 Mission

The sky was a whore, waiting to be plundered from the mighty steel bellend which was the Apollo 12 rocket.  It rose, like a great big phallus with loads of rocket like jizz coming out of the wrong end, to part the sexy clouds like the whores they were.  But the rocket was not merely a rocket.  It symbolised all that was right with mankind – the height of literary, scientific, emotional and sensual achievement, flicking the V’s of life at God and saying, “Yes, we are men, and we can do bloody pointless things as well, you big fanny.”  For man was a big whorey whore made of whore-cloth, and needed a big whisky of destiny before he could bash out any more of this crap.

The Rats of Destiny:  Unofficial Sequel to ‘The Rats’ by James Herbert

The rat was a whore.  A big, bloated whore of life, eating away at the heavy, cumbersome testicles of society.  The rat whore was everywhere in society,  worming its way into the very psyche of the nation, turning politician into brethren, order into infested corruption, life into the struggle for sanity which had been denied the rat race for so long.  We were all the rats of the world, crammed nose to nose into the sewer of life, fighting for the survival and prosperity which was always denied to those who lived in the gutter of man’s accomplishments.  Given the basics, we – the rats of life – survived on our instincts, clawing for the light beyond our reach and then hiding in the shadows once the full beam was turned on us.  We were beyond redemption in the eyes of the Gods, and our lives would be wasted to the machine we call civilization.

And then the rats ate the tramps bollocks.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar

The leaf was a whore.  It sat there, lush and whoreish, shaking its wares into the caterpillar’s face like the big green photosynthetic bastard it was.  It taunted him with its lushness, whispering ‘come hither and taste my wares’ but when the Hungry Caterpillar approached it the wind would catch and send it dancing away from the Caterpillar’s big green whorish face.  It laughed at him, despised him, hated him, loved him, was amused and repelled by him, and yet the Very Hungry Caterpillar knew to attain the leaf was his only salvation.  So he punched it and ate it.

The Man Who Punched Stuff

The old woman was a whore.  Jimmy Punchfist knew this as he knew eve r contour of the big dangly testicles that clanged in his pants when he walked.  The woman was a big whore and she was laughing at him.  Laughing at him as she laughed at the world and all it’s ridiculous tropes; laughed at him the way that life laughed at the fact that he was a short arse who wrote shit poetry – not that it was shit or anything and in fact it was great and skill and groovy and didn’t smell of wee at all; laughed at him the way God laughed at his pants when he got undressed and saw his massive at two inch knob; laughed at him the way all humanity laughed at the world as it ground down the fact that he should have won a fucking Nobel Prize by now, the cunts!  The old whorish woman laughed at him with the knowledge that he was last in the queue and she was at least four people ahead and would get served at the Post Office counter before him, and this would not stand.  His life was worth more, his legacy was worth more, and his trousers were worth more.  So he punched the old woman.  But alas, she had an umbrella of steel, wielded like a broadsword, with which she twatted him on the bonce with.  Life was yet again unfair.

The Lovely Bag of Fluffy Kittens

Once upon a time there was a big bag of lovely fluffy kittens who went to play in Cotton Candy Land where they met a big basket of puppies.  Together the fluffy animals played with ducklings and piggy wiggies and cut ickle bunnies and everyone lived happily ever after in Snugglefluff Land.   The Endy Wendy.

 

 

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And not one mention of Pain or Gain by that master of the modern cinema, Michael Bay.  Year after year Lord Bay spends his time slogging over carefully crafted artistic pieces of cinema history and every year he is ignored by the so-called intelligentsia of the critical film world.  Why, I remember last year when Transformers Three:  Another Turgid Old Lump of Piss Stained Arse Nuggets turned up, and yet again Shia LeBellends’s soul stirring deeply affecting Oscar worthy performance as a man who says ‘no no no no no’ a lot whilst talking to big robots was completely overlooked by the people who hand out the gongs.

It has been a complaint for millions of centuries amongst the sort of people like me who think The Siege is a deeply affecting film about what would happen is Bruce Willis looked a bit pensive whilst a bunch of terrorists fannied about for a bit or that Scooby Doo2: Monsters Unleashed is up there with The Godfather 2 that the sort of multiplex fare the public really want to see is ignored in favour of so-called ‘good’ films with ‘characters’ and ‘plot’, but the basic reality is that even these films are the usual old Hollywood drivel gussied up with stereotypes.  After all, 12 Years A Slave is having its knackers tickled by the trophy ceremonies at the moment, but in a few years’ time will it be viewed on the same level as patronising shit like The Help or Driving Miss Daisy.  I have no idea, as I have not seen it, and as a regular multiplex movie goer I’ll be staying away from the kind of film that tries to make me think and spending my hard earned money on films with Adam Sandler doing a stupid voice or maybe something with a bloke in a superhero costume poncing about, directed from somebody who is perceived to be unconventional, like Spike Jones or Michael Gondry, but who is actually as soporifically mainstream as the usual old fuck nuggets but just has people mumble a bit more than usual to give the credence of indie Sundance credibility.

 I swear if I see one more fucking film from Sundance about a fucking quirky family doing something in a quirkily unconventional way that’s slightly heart-warming whilst churning out the same old bullshit mainstream Hollywood ideas I swear I’ll stop going to the cinema.  Luckily I never watch these kinds of films as they’re cak, and even the ones that feature robots (like Robot & Frank where Frank Langella heart-warmingly gets a quirky robot butler and heart-warmingly sets out to life affirmingly rob a bank in a quirkily heart-warming fashion) never have them smashing buildings up or trying to put a bullet into Linda Hamilton’s arse.  And to add to that the superhero ones aren’t very superhero like.  Like Super, which just featured an angry man who didn’t fly or hang out with a big green talking bogey like in The Avengers.  Or Kick Ass, which apart from not being able to spell ‘arse’ properly, featured Nicholas Cage in a performance which wasn’t overshadowed by whatever wig he was wearing at the time.

You see, ladies and germs, poncy films with subtitles or films that are old or in black and white or feature quirky characters just don’t plug into the modern zeitgeist the way something like Thor: Underpants of Valhalla do.  The world is suffering at the moment, riven to pieces by all kinds of problems, from wars to social poverty to politicians all being a bunch  mean old poo heads(to quote Jeremy Paxman) and the general public is striving for fictional characters which make us believe in the common decency of humanity.  So the constant stream of Hollywood material offering us fantasy lives in place of the real one acts as a sop to the general public, allowing them the release they crave from the drudgery of modern life.  However, none of this explains the success of Adam Sandler, apart from the fact that he’s so great and so funny and whenever he does a silly voice and then acts like a bit of a knob it just makes the world a happier place.

But I digress.  The award ceremony bods should take a leaf out of MTV’s book and start introducing awards for things that really matter.  ‘Best Robot Saying Something In A Smart Arse Fashion’, perhaps?  ‘Best Use Of The Lighting To Hide Another Celebrity’s Massive Balding Spampatch’, maybe?  ‘Best Reason Why Michael Bay Should Re-Make Citizen Kane, But This Time With Shia Lebouf As Kane And Rosie Huntingdon-Whitely As The Sled’?

On a serious note, it is easy to mock the mainstream, but in the words of Picasso ‘The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.’  And indeed, if any of the films by Michael Bay or Adam Sandler help make the daily grind of life for people that much easier, then surely we must take the prejudice from our own eyes and allow the fact that the quality of art is merely a personal concept, and should be respected as such.

Personal Note:

Michael Bay and Adam Sandler are talentless cunts

Only joking, of course.  As a member of her Majesty’s gov I reckon you’re all a bunch of great mates out there in pauper land, and the only reason we’re trying to kill you off is to make the economy grow, because that’s the most important thing in the world.  Some tree hugging jumper wearing veggie eating four eyed goatee bearded Guardian reading Socialist Worker types have somehow instilled the impression upon the masses that maybe we should have some sort of staggered economic recovery which doesn’t take a great big steel boot and stamp on the testicles of the poor while they’re already in the gutter.  These people would probably push forward the idea of ‘caring for the needy’ and ‘not being a bunch of racist bigots’ but they misunderstand the true problems behind the current world crises.  The fact is there is far too much equality in the world and far too many social services trying to help people.  It’s a well-known fact that if you start helping the poor and needy they urinate money up the wall and spend it all on drugs and foreigners.  And we in the Conservative party have made it our God given duty to crush them all.  THAT’S RIGHT.  We’re going to exterminate the lot of you snivelling little shitbags because we want all the money for ourselves.  Some fucker let the cat out of the bag that Cameron was thinking of reducing the tax cuts for all my great rich posh Bugatti driving mates from fourty five percent to fourty percent, but what the bastards don’t understand it we’re going to reduce it to nothing percent and then dance on the still twitching corpses of the needy as it’s the only thing which gives me a stiffy.  Suffer and die, paups, because that’s all your good for!!! NO!!! WAIT!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!

Why Paupers Are Great by Jeremy Lovelysmile, Minister for Kittens

What the Minister for Being A Cunt meant to say was we need a staggered approach to the current economic climate which takes into consideration the fragile state of the recovering economy and removes the pressure off the social services which will allow people to stand on their own two feet.  For too long the state has been standing in as a prop to personal self-reliance and freedom.  It should be the responsibility of the individual to look after themselves, even if that individual suffers from some of the more empowering social un-abilities such as crutches or wheelchairs or having a disorder which makes them flick the V’s at cabbages.  We believe it is the right or every man or women, regardless of their social standing or ability, to have the chance to make something of themselves.  After all, we’ve all seen that lovely film Happyness with Willard of the Smith, where he shows just how empowering being poor and homeless can actually be, and how we can all pull ourselves up by the straps of our boots with a little elbow grease and effort.  Of course, that film was made by our Americorn cousins, but the message is still the same.  If you’re homeless and living in a cardboard box you can still climb the social ladder, but only if you vote Conservative.  If you vote Labour your head will fall off and you will die of something horrible, probably involving your genitals.  I won’t even bother to mention those turncoat fuckers the Libs as everyone knows they’re dead in the water anyway.  It’s that Farage cunt we have to watch out for.  Bastard nicked all our ideas.  We need more fucking pride in the country.  We need another war.  This is why that Gove scumbag is lobbying to make World War One seem like it was fucking great so we can ferry off a bunch of you paup cunts to die in the trenches and thin this fucking population down because you’re all scum.  We fucking hate the lot of you.   WE NEED CAMPS TO PUT YOU IN!!  WHYY DON’T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE AND LEAVE ALL YOUR MONEY TO US!!!  WE NEED A RACE OF PURE ARYAN TORIES TO LEAD THE WAY FORWARD!!!!  DEATH TO FATTIES!!!  AGH!!  NO!!!  LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

Keep Calm and Remember We Love You by Chirpy McHappysmile

Unfortunately some of our more enthusiastic members have been off message lately about what the Conservative Party are really doing to help get the country back on its feet.  All you have to remember is that we are here for you.  We are here to support those who wish to support themselves.  We are the party with a happy smile and a stern word for those who feel the state owes them a living.  Food banks exist only because people are too lazy to buy their own food.  Families live on the street only to experience a more healthy outdoors life.  The disabled are only looking for sympathy.  Migrants are stealing your jobs and your homes.  Benefits are an unhealthy crutch that only go to the greedy.  The Conservatives are your friends.  For those who find they cannot support themselves we are building re-education camps where we can manufacture more productive members of society who understand the need for voluntary aid to needy conglomerates.  They will sing the patriotic songs which we teach them and we will educate them into understanding what their place in society truly is.  And for those who decry our democratically socialist tactics in dealing with the current crises I have this message – we know where you live.

Right, is this thing off?  Good.  When do we start stamping on the puppies?

Eat My Knob Off, Yes Minister!

Posted: January 3, 2014 in Uncategorized

Eat My Knob Off, Yes Minister!