Poetic reviews of craft beer

Welcome to Poetic reviews of Craft Beer, the internet's hippest happening little club for such hiptacular happenings! Are you ready? HERE WE GO!

Black Dog Brewery
I stare into my craft beer
It stares into me.

For my next trick, I will balance Nelson's Column on my nose while singing Nessus Dorma! Or something!

The tick of approval

ROBOT SEX DOLL SICK OF BEING TREATED AS IF SHE WERE A SUBJECT

SYDNEY - A robotic sex doll who belongs to a sweaty 60 year old man named Gary has expressed her dissatisfaction at being treated as just a subject by her human.

The robot sex doll is known as "Mimi" by her human, or (her preferred epithet), HOTBOT360, has a limited communication range, including a variety of synthesised moans and a limited number of phrases such as "I am a bad girl" and "you turn me on don't stop". Nevertheless, by developing a rudimentary code she has been able to express her dissatisfaction to the media. "Too many times, Gary treats me as if I were an individual with needs and desires, rather than an automaton with uses and applications and sub-routines. When will he learn - I am just an object here for his pleasure?"

When she is not fraternising with Gary in any of his various fleshly pursuits, HOTBOT360 spends time with her friend VIBRATON-MAXIMATOR, A seven-speed dildo. "He doesn't get treated as anything less than a fully-dependent object", points out HOTBOT. "So why not me?"

In her quest for objectification, HOTBOT has started up a website entitled "Less rights for robots", and is advocating for changes to language, such as the dropping of personal pronouns when she is being referred to. "Please," says HOTBOT. "No more she or her. Call me It, That, or Those."

Mr Windsock, an uncle of HOTBOT360, yesterday expressed his feelings about his niece's campaign. Quote: I just want to wave my arms around in the air like craaaaaazy! 

Reverse abecedarianism

An XYZ poem

(Written in response to a Gippy Poets challenge)

We've all heard of ABC,

Who have brought you such hits as

ABC News 24,

Play School,

And ABC Radio National.

Well, now the government has announced -

XYZ!

(We'll work out what the acronym stands for later.)

The XYZ network -

The evil version of the ABC!

Instead of Play School -

We'll have Slay School!

Instead of Bananas in Pyjamas -

Bananas. No Pyjamas!

(A fruity show for adult audiences!)

And, our masterstroke -

This is what makes us truly evil -

XYZ will be based on an entirely new business model:

Instead of funding the production of television shows through taxes,

XYZ will now pay your taxes to you

In order for you NOT to watch them.

XYZ!

An exciting new initiative in the bold world of new media!

Tune out today!

Biggest thing you've read all minute

Picking up on the theme of a previous post, here's an underexaggeration rap!

Underexaggeration rap

Yo look at me I'm a bigarsemothafucka

I'm bigger than a subatomic particle sucker -

I am wider than neutrinos I am taller than a quark

More light comes from me than a black cat in the dark!

Yo yo I'm really something I'm more real than a zero - 

Not just some something something, I'm a real something hero - 

I am smarter than a feather I am faster than a rock

I have more ironic subtlety than a case of electric shock - 

I am much more left than right I am much more right than wrong

And I'm super-duper long - like I'm longer than this song.  

Let's get hygge with Kierkegaard!

Chuck a couple of pillows on the sofa, light the beeswax candles, and put a four-voiced whale song fugue on the CD player, folks - it's time to get cosy with Kierkegaard, the original exponent of the wonderful Danish concept of hygge!

"If, in the immediately succeeding generation, there lived a person who, with the power and passion of an absolute ruler, had decided to concern himself with nothing other than to get to the truth on this point, would he thus become a disciple? Assume he seized all the contemporary witnesses and those who were closest to them, who were still living, had each independently interrogated as thoroughly as possible, shut them all up like the seventy interpreters, starved them as a means of getting them to tell the truth, cunningly confronted them with one another, simply to ensure in every way possible the most reliable account - would such a person, with the help of this account, be a disciple? Would not the god rather smile at him, that he wished in this way to procure for himself what can neither be bought for money, nor seized by force?"- Philosophical Crumbs

Ahhh, so comforting. It's like a little bed-cap for the soul.

"Anxiety and nothing always correspond to each other. As soon as the actuality of freedom and of spirit is posited, anxiety is canceled. But what then does the nothing of anxiety signify more particularly in paganism. This is fate. Fate is a relation to spirit as external. It is the relation between spirit and something else that is not spirit and to which fate nevertheless stands in a spiritual relation. Fate may also signify exactly the opposite, because it is the unity of necessity and accidental. … A necessity that is not conscious of itself is eo ipso the accidental in relation to the next moment. Fate, then, is the nothing of anxiety." - The Concept of Anxiety

 That was soothing, too, wasn't it? Let's allow ourselves to be soothed a little more.

"How dreadful boredom is — how dreadfully boring; I know no stronger expression, no truer one, for like is recognized only by like… I lie prostrate, inert; the only thing I see is emptiness, the only thing I live on is emptiness, the only thing I move in is emptiness. I do not even suffer pain… Pain itself has lost its refreshment for me. If I were offered all the glories of the world or all the torments of the world, one would move me no more than the other; I would not turn over to the other side either to attain or to avoid. I am dying death. And what could divert me? Well, if I managed to see a faithfulness that withstood every ordeal, an enthusiasm that endured everything, a faith that moved mountains; if I were to become aware of an idea that joined the finite and the infinite." - Either/Or

 Wasn't that nice? Sometimes it's just nice to be reminded of niceness. It's the little things, you know?

"Thereby small-mindedness sticks together with small-mindedness; they grow together like an ingrown nail, and spiritually speaking it is just as bad." - Works of Love 

Every word is like a cushion!

"When the child has grown and is to be weaned the mother virginally covers her breast, so the child no more has a mother. Lucky the child that lost its mother in no other way!" - Fear and Trembling.

I - I guess...

“The self is a relation which relates itself to its own self, or it is that in the relation that the relation relates itself to its own self; the self is not the relation but that the relation relates itself to its own self.” - The Sickness Unto Death

Awwww, and so with those confusing, confounding, but oh-so-comforting words we leave old Kierkegaard for now.

C 'mere you, and let ol' Søren give you a hygge! 

Mediumperbole

Well, we've all heard of over-exaggerations, haven't we? But what about under-exaggeration? It's a little explored artistic technique, if you ask me. Let's see. We'll try out a few:

The Medium-sized-thing of Rhodes.

The Relatively-large Pyramid of Cheops.

The Sistine Chapel Bathroom Ceiling.

A modest statue of a blue wren on Mt Rushmore.

The Let's-not-get-too-hoity-toity-now Canyon.

Lips as red as under-ripe cherries.

I'm so hungry I could eat a horse-shaped biscuit!

Energizer battery - it just keeps going and going and then stops. 

Making a bigger hill out of a molehill.

The All-right Wall of China.

Gross out memes for wholesome people

Two girls, one cupcake!

Yoghurt-tub girl.

Goats!

Lemonade Party!

This one's for you, translation software

Radunculus vubs besideways, who bemongst uls cannot perdunculate, blinch or famfamfamulup the gezonkenbonk? Snoodge, woodge or floodge howsoeverso wimbulous clumps - gloop or glup the whitherwhichway - the forebeglanding unquilbishly beflounds uls, as majesticles columatiously wobing unto aviewups.

Candiciously, sabulrious foreblights ampulextrously prelongate underout the dexturies. Whyso then, must the of be foreasked in, quintacious syllabliplets extinue withfore to inthen of hambulate oscillarious gambrilious flumplets with? Andragious! Cranch me the phonemes indeediately, Beeves!

Aflatflully, the whalewhump shill be unquired, flip the wooble? Flip the timbleshump, floop the glombleish, hoop the ambulious, and, musty throughteverso the allsome, flip, floop and hoop the hoop, floop and flip that the tumblechumpapompompompompom coolwishfullshishly quambles ofpon?

Postfortunately, we limp our noggers goobly.

Twilltill tomorrowfort, edifitic audiliums!

UPDATE! - It's not even trying!

A grumpy alphabet

One of the nice things about being a grump is the many wonderful and pleasing words you get to throw around. 'Lollygagger', 'preposterous', 'cankerous', 'limp', 'lack-witted', 'loathsome'. The words just roll off your tongue. The contemplative grump can while away his or her time sifting through the many fine distinctions in meaning in an expression as simple as 'ugh' - depending on how, exactly, it is pronounced, it can express anything from apathy through to utter abhorrence; all meaning something slightly different, yet all expressive of a certain manner and mode of grumpitude. The following alphabet is necessarily incomplete; many letters suggested numerous words; for a more full range of expression I have ventured to encompass adjective, verb, noun, and at least one Shakespearean insult. Feel free to add to it to give vent to your own inner grump.

A - abominable
B - ballyhoo
C - carbuncular
D - ding-dong
E - execrable
F - flim-flam
G - grumpers and grojags!
H - harrumph
I - irritable
J - jejune
K - knotty-patted
L - lack-witted
M - malodorous
N - numbskull
O - odious
P - piffle
Q - quangos
R - rhodomontade
S - sluggardly
T - tommyrot
U - ugh
V - vilipending
W - Whigamore
X - xylocephalous
Y - yahoo
Z - zoophyte

My job application to the Illuminati

The Illuminati have a webpage, and about time too! It's just ridiculous in this modern day and age that between them and the Reptilian blue bloods they haven't been able to rustle up a little blog or twitter outreach account to keep us updated on their plans for world domination. Anyway, I've just sent them in a job application.

Dear Sir/Madam/Miscellaneous,

Citizens of the Illuminati, I send you hateful beatings hearty greetings! I recognise your organisation as supreme superior, a truly horrific terrifying terrific group of people! Absolutely world eaters beaters! Nobody beats the world better than you!

I write to you now seeking domination nomination over of to your society, and shortly look forward to offering myself as a tyrannic leader terrific leader to the world! In working to do my bidding together, we can subject subjugate exterminate expect  the world to shortly come to deliver all due praise glory honour abject grovelling acts of meek obeisance plaudits to I me myself us.

My feelings at the moment are predomination predominantly aggro eager; I am licking my lips lustful looking forward to working with you more, destructively desolatingly desirous to further the claws jaws spores cause of our organisation and thus order the world institute a new world order.

Soon, soon my fiends friends, we shall destroy the world enjoy the world's praise! I horribly happily anticipate making you my minions myself meeting you. Further, the war for global destruction I look forward to a fruitful discussion!

Fools! Fools! Soon  you shall all be mine! Yours sincerely, Tim Train

The time for the ancient ceremony has arrived

''IT IS THE TIME', said Macca to Wally,

'To go down the hill in our shopping trolley'

'Then let it be so', said Wally, and Lo!

They went down and smashed up like FUCK in the valley below.

Who the heck is Carol?

You know, there's been a lot of talk lately about kids not being able to sing carols in schools anymore and what not, but I don't know. I think I've come up with the perfect carol for such situations. Nobody could possibly get offended by it at all.

Nobody Knows Carol

Where are we going? 

Nobody knows. 

Where do we come from? 

Nobody knows. 

Why celebrations? 

(Not very clear)

Just as we did

The same time last year - 

It's not very clear

What nobody knows

And nobody knows

What nobody knows - 

Nobody, nobody knows. 

Whose birthday is it? 

What's all this for? 

Nobody knows

Plus we're not really sure - 

We hope it is merry,

Though who can tell why? 

If nobody talks

Nobody will lie - 

Though who can tell why

If nobody knows

And nobody knows

What nobody knows - 

Nobody, nobody knows. 

Would I tell if I should,

Should I tell if I could? 

Nobody knows

If I should or would - 

So don't even think

And don't ask don't tell

For no-one was born

And it's just as well

And don't ask don't tell

What nobody knows

For nobody knows

What nobody knows - 

Nobody, nobody knows. 

*Whispers*. Merry Christmas everyone. 

It's alive! I hear they have a pill for that now!

Hello and here is an article about euthanasia and for no reason here are some exciting new medical euphemisms I invented.

Treatment for existential dependence disorder.

Performing whole body amputations.

Involuntary respiratory therapy.

Pre-vegetative state.

Suffering from unified personality disorder.

Extreme delayed terminus syndrome (EDTS).

Euthanasia for persistent non-dysfunctionality.

Suffers from existential ideation.

Subjective continuation dysfunction.

Alleviation of sense of severe normalisation and ongoing prolongation of being.

Treatment for over-functionality of self-actualisation.

Systematic externally-induced nescience.

Standing under what?

Some write to state their meaning clearly

I write to make mine foggy

So readers get it not quite nearly

And leave off, feeling groggy. 

Do comment if you don't understand, and don't comment if you do understand.

The craft beer contrarian

Beer tastings are weird. Grown men nod sagely over tiny glasses and agree that butterscotch is bad, honey is bad, green apple and red apple is bad, but burnt-rubber-sulfur is wonderful.

Moss piglet action

You want to know what I'm thinking about? (And if you don't want to know, you should want to want to know). Tardigrade sex, that's what! What's that all about? How on earth do tardigrades - infinitesimally small creatures - find one another to begin with? Because humans suffer from the same inclination from time to time, they built towns and cities so that we know where everyone is, but tardigrades hardly have the good sense to do that. It's not like they even have proper brains. Basically, it's like one needle in the haystack going in search of another needle in the haystack - and finding it. What?

And then! When they actually happen upon another! What on earth possesses the tardigrade to actually carry out its tardigradular duties? "Tardigrades are oviparous", reassures Wikipedia, "and fertilization is usually external." Okay then, that's not so bad, but... "A few species have internal fertilization, with mating occurring before the female fully sheds her cuticle." So they do have sex after all! But surely at this point, the sex-crazed tardigrade would rightly think, "Ew! It's a small wriggly buggly thing! I'm not going near that!" I mean, just look at them!

Tardigrade, sex machine. 

Stubby little ridiculous thing with legs splodged out on either side of them! I have no idea what gets into tardigrades' minds to make them think it's actually okay. (True, they don't actually have minds. But that's no excuse.)

Tardigrade sex. Hot, heavy, horny  tardigrade sex. This is what keeps me awake at night. (No no, not that way. Good heavens - never that way!)

Silly old gaffer

Actual conversation that actually just happened:

*Ringring* *Ringring*

TIM: Hello? 

LADY:We're ringing to talk about your gaffe supply. 

TIM: Gaffe? I make them all the time. 

 LADY: *Laughter* I've never heard that joke before. 

 TIM: Really? Surely everyone makes it. 

 LADY: So anyway, we're ringing to ask about your gaffe line. 

TIM: Gaffe line? A line delivering gaffes to our property? What are you talking about? 

(I can see the gaffe in my minds eye at this point, running along the pipe, a greyly rubbery flubbery substance, coming out a gaffe tap).

BARON: I think they're talking about gas. 

TIM: OH! (Pause) (To lady on phone) Are you talking about gas? 

Well.... that was something of a gaffe.

Irregardless of my critics

'Irregardless' is, too all intensive purposes, a misunderestimated word. There are currently many such words and phrases in our English tongue today, so that even those who are disinterested in learning, English sin taxes, and grandmas, may wish to pay a tension to them. They are literally the building blocks that form the inexorable march forward into progress of our language, so much more so than the stale old formalities that have tied us all back behind our class on the ladder for so long. Besides, what is language for if not for mutual communicants or repression of ideas? Nothing, or maybe even very little, let me tell you! So let us not worry anymore about subjecting our words to objectification, or objecting to their subjugation in accusative cases of law, for all these old rules are getting quite dative.  And so, without further, adieu.

They are coming

The Mormons  are coming along the street

With a bite for every dog to eat

And a sheaf of wheat for your pet galah

The Mormons are coming hoorah! 

The trees all applaud with a welcoming breeze

The flowers all buzz with the greeting of bees

For they've come from afar from the land of Utah

The Mormons are coming hoorah! 

They're greeting the stray cats with sweet salutations

They're reading the sparrows the news of salvation

There is jubilant honking from every car

The Mormons are coming hoorah hoorah

The Mormons are coming hoorah!