... have a little pain.

lets start this thing up again. im bored and there is way too much assorted rambling type stuff on my computer that should see the light of day. or at least the metaphorical light of the information superhighway.
also, like, i started watching farscape again with johobo, while she tries to procrastinate from studying, and we're doin it just in time for the news of the o'bannon-henson webisodes that got greenlighted last week (yays!). omg see! it was never dead. the show will totally come back. itll be all about little D, and scorpy and the peace (hah!) between the scarrans and PKs and maybe the nebari - i always wanted to see them take over the galaxy. if brian gets this right, the show will be back better than ever by this time next year. is all i'm saying.
anyways, lots of stuff. and movies and crap.

but i cant be stuffed yet, so why not have a tripod lyric instead (back on the sideshow, abc, saturdays, 9.25 - or some ridiculous time i never remember). i remember this song at the comedy store. they had to wait a few moments for the ppl from bunnings up the back to get the joke after the first chorus. yeah, the new version has scod's falsetto, and backup musicating from yon and the gatesy. it's all a bit queen - seaside rendezvous-y now. topical!

suicide bomber - tripod

scod: they used dogs on me
they used blindfolds
they embarrassed me in the nude
they gave shots to me
with electrodes
they deprived me of my food

they paraded me 'round the prison
chained up to other men
and with every task
one question they asked
over and over and over again
they said

'aren't you the suicide bomber
who blew up the bus last year?'
i said 'no'
they said 'yes'
i said 'you're not thinking this through'

but they went off and thought up some new things to do

so they soaked me
with cold water
and they left me there overnight
they put outlandish costumes upon me
and took photographs of my plight

they accused me of brutal behaviour
whilst they kicked me in the balls
and with every task
one question they asked
echoing off of the cold prison walls
they said

'aren't you the suicide bomber
who blew up the bus last year?'
i said 'no'
they punched me
i said 'think logically'
and they said 'you think logically'
and i said... 'what?'

*whistling, while yonny and gatesy mime punching, kicking, urinating on, photographing a prisoner*

psychological torture
has cleared things right up for me
and there's one thing i knowif they let me go
i will be the man they want me to be

yes i'll be the suicide bomber
i'll blow up the bus one day
and so will my son and his son after that
and then some poor new guy will sit where i sat
and he will be forced to wear poos for a hat

and so on and so fucking forth
amen.