Aug. 29th, 2007 01:15 am:
The Aussies: Morons or Mastermind Hunters of Wild Gecko?

Good day reader. My name is Brandon. The chances of you reading this are slim as is - but if you are reading this, you will hopefully fall into one of two very specific categories that I have decided upon in a spontaneous fit of fury. You are either 1- a human being that has attended at least 2 years of public schooling or achieved literacy some other way with magic, or 2- a very gifted domesticated canine that is quick to assume barkingbrandon's target audience be "dogs and fans of dogs". Also, if you really are a dog, then I'm sorry my canine companion. I'm very impressed that you can use a computer, type, and read, but this whole thing here is mainly directed towards people. Even still though, I think you should at least be on TV because you're a fucking smart ass dog. Also, if you can use email too, then please email me because I've never had a conversation with a dog before. Lastly, on the off chance that you are a pandimensional superbeing with hands for eyes and you for some reason feel strangely compelled to continue, then please - go ahead - because I am scared of you.


Please be cautioned, dear reader. Not a word of the following has been checked for any sort of accuracy, whether grammatical or logical, and may or may not house any tangible point. The following entry may also contain vulgar language, also known to some as "bad words", and may be of an abrasive and careless tone. That now being said, we can officially "pop the top".



I arrived home before sunrise. It was early Sunday morning and there wasn't even a hint of light on the horizon. Some would have called it Saturday night still, but I know how to tell time and I'm telling you that it was Sunday morning, god dammit.

Well, prior to laying my head, complete with still perfectly styled hair, down to rest, I found myself compelled to check the various news web sites I had failed the check the previous day. "What a fine way to wind down before going to dreamland," I thought smugly to myself. I spent a few minutes perusing the various web sites that occupy my mildly regimented but significant list. It was only when I got to that I was instantly drawn in by the following news article 'tag' and headline:

"Cool, I found another geckoooOOoooooooooooohhhhhh"

Suddenly finding myself quite intrigued, and giggling a little, I proceeded to follow the posted link to its destination, the arm-pit of news web sites, It was here that I was destined to come across the following, ground-breaking, news brief:

Gecko hunt ends in death fall (1)

July 29, 2007 10:11am
A 21-year-old man who was out in the middle of the night hunting geckos to feed a pet snake has died after falling 45m down a disused sewer shaft in Sydney. (2)

The Daceyville man's body was recovered this morning from the former sewerage outlet below a Malabar headland in Sydney's eastern suburbs, police said. Inspector Eddy Bosch said the man and his mate had been out collecting geckos in the area about 2.45am (AEST) today when one of them fell about 45m down the shaft leading to a former sewage outlet. (3)

“They have walked past a cement structure which had a door in it,” Insp Bosch told Southern Cross Broadcasting. (4)

“One of the fellows has gone through that door and stepped into the structure and has unfortunately stepped into a disused shaft and he's fallen down that shaft.” A report on the man's death will be done for the Coroner." (5)

First and foremost, I would like to state that I have no problem whatsoever with Australia itself in terms of it being a land mass upon which people and organic life exist. I have nothing to dispute with its people, its dynamic array of cultures, the different dialects spoken, or its various sexual orientations and any accompanying fetish(es), but the individual that is responsible for these hundred-some-odd words is either trying to reach a quota or is a robot cyborg built by Australians to write news articles.

Hold on and just pause for a second. Don't get started on any assumptions you may have about what my intentions are. Any comments you see here that appear bitter and trite are not in any way directed at the sad and unexpected death of our late Australian friend. My goal is merely to continually prod at the heart of the journalist responsible for writing something so purely informative and dry and attempting to pass it off as news. Now that, my dear reader, is just purely immoral.

Ok, so maybe I do plan on making fun of the recently deceased. But only because they made me do it.

Also, dear reader, if you should feel any need to reference the original text, I have included something I like to call "Blue Numbers in Parenthesis" for you to utilize for any of your referencing needs or desires; all at your leisure. As much as I would love to take credit for this idea and its many practical uses, I worry that someone may have utilized its effectiveness in the past. But, as far as I know, I am the first to use it with the specific shade of blue that corresponds to hex address 3333ff. If I'm dead wrong and this has been done before, please feel free to write me an email with your name and phone number so I can call you and tell you in real time of your most recent significant waste of time - writing me an email about something so incredibly stupid. Do you have anything better to do? .. what? oh. oh yeah - good point ..




(1) "Gecko hunt ends in death fall"

There's nothing like an intriguing headline to draw ones attention. Great authors around the world all share certain values, like the importance of capturing your readers attention right from the start. I think our headline really gives us a push in the right direction: "Gecko hunt." It's quite definitive. Notice the fact it isn't "A Gecko Hunt". This poses a problem for me because it leaves so much up to imagination when there are so many facts being presented. Without the use of an indefinite article I am drawn to believe that this specific Gecko hunt is in fact an event that is known widely amongst the Australian people - or at least people native to the city of Sydney. Had our news stylist taken the little extra time to capitalize the word "hunt", we would be able to say for sure. I guess for now we have no choice but to remain in the dark until word comes back from the Sydney underground. railroad.

Also, a descriptive word like "tragic", can really go a long way in expressing a bit of basic human emotion. Maybe something like:

"Gecko hunt ends in tragic death fall"

- or -
"Gecko Hunt ends in Tragedy"

Either of these two fictional headlines are to my liking. At least the latter boosts intrigue and lets the many visitors of know that our nameless journalist is in fact aware of all the types of fun people are having at the "32nd Annual Sydney Gecko Hunt" just down the street. That, and it would help to rebut the idea that maybe - just maybe - there were a couple of stoned, slightly autistic, held-back high school seniors, and they were hunting for a fucking lizard in the fucking middle of the fucking night. Moving on.

(2) "A 21-year-old man who was out in the middle of the night hunting geckos to feed a pet snake has died after falling 45m down a disused sewer shaft in Sydney."

Well doesn't that just resonate with continuity? First of all, I do not believe that the 21 year old in this article deserves to be called a "man". It is in my opinion that a boy should not be labeled a "man" until he has proven his proper understanding and use of something called common sense. For example, something different that could have happened would have been something like this:

Stoned autistic children procrastinate and eat their last backup bag of Doritos

July 29, 2007 10:11am

Two people, both men, were too stoned to feed their pet snake last night. Instead of going outside and hunting for lizards to feed to their pet snake in the dark, they instead decided to sit around and eat their last backup bag of Doritos - the one behind the bag of flour on the top shelf. The owner of the snake, still to remain nameless, had been heard at one point saying something along the lines of,

"Mate. It sure is late. It's too bad Ol' Grimace didn't get to eat his daily professionally captured gecko. I do love Ol' Grimace and all... but maybe we should just wait until daytime to go hunting for something that only comes out during the daytime. Yeah, I feel damn good about my decision, although stoned, because I can truly exercise some really authentic common sense with my decision to wait until daytime. Then it will be light out. That way we will be able to see if we're going to fall for 45 meters straight down into an old sewage duct or not. That would suck wouldn't it?"

Authorities say that Ol' Grimace was fed at 11:32am the next morning and ate slightly more than usual. He is still under observation, but according to the veterinarian on call in the local Pet-Co "vet center", he is in stable condition and is expected to... remain a snake.

The last time I can remember that I ran out of cat food, my cats didn't complain. There was an awkward silence, but I know it was more awkward for me than them. I was the one that felt bad. I highly doubt my furry companions were prepared in a deep trance, focusing all of their chi on trying to make me feel like an ass. But no - this buckaroo had such strong feelings of empathy for his malnourished pet snake (a pet snake that is to forever go by the name of Ol' Grimace) that he went out in the middle of the night to hunt for a gecko. Hell, he even had his "mate" come along to help.

a pause, if you will.

This now brings up a couple of very interesting questions. The first thing on my mind is how the fuck does one hunt for a gecko at night? A gun? Lasers? A gun with lasers? If these geckos are those mystical geckos that glow in the dark, then I want to go home right now. If you have any idea, please tell me. Something tells me that Tonto won't be revealing his vast array of gecko hunting techniques - especially considering the fact that he's no longer living. Man, being dead's a bitch.

Also, the word "disused" makes me feel really god damn stupid. Just reading it. Not because I do not understand it, but because I had originally read it as "disguised" and thought to myself proudly, "Well yeah, um, duh? It's dark? Anyone with half a brain could tell you that everything is always wearing its best disguise when it's dark out. Stupid Australian web site." Unfortunately, upon second glance, I immediately retracted my humorous thought process and was filled with nothing but worry that I could, in fact, maybe, be dyslexic.

a long and drawn out dramatic pause was felt over all of the interwebs. all of them.

It was only after sixteen hours of mental turmoil and despair that I decided what to do. You see, it becomes much easier to place fault on those that write for because there is a very good chance that they are mostly machine and do not have a soul. This word, "disused", that these Australians are tossing around is merely a condescending way to say "unused", "old", or my personal favorite, "saturated in human waste to the point of being completely useless as a means to transport human waste". On that note, do you think the Aussies have a problem with waste management? It seems like in American we're always finding things to put in our sewers. I guarantee that if our Kangaroo wrangler had fallen in an active sewer shaft, there would have a much more interesting article surfacing across all of the interwebs. Do you think the Aussies live in and/or around their own defecation? Don't we already know the answer to this as they're Australians? Do I have anything in my teeth? How about now?

Don't you think an ominous word like "abandoned" would have really helped spice up the old place too? That's just the kind of word we should be commonly using when describing something like an old "sewer shaft". It's not just a "sewer shaft" - it's an abandoned "sewer shaft". C'mon - Just let it show itself off a little bit. Describing the damn thing as a plain "sewer shaft" just screams with significance for the death place of death for a loved one. Speaking of which, should a situation ever present itself in which a close relative or friend of yours, my favorite of every reader, dies - in the middle of the night after "falling 45 meters to his/her certain doom down an old, abandoned, sewer shaft - we need to get started right away on the best made for tv movie that the local broadcast station has ever seen.

(3) Inspector Eddy Bosch said the man and his mate had been out collecting geckos in the area about 2.45am (AEST) today when one of them fell about 45m down the shaft leading to a former sewage outlet.

If there's one thing I've learned from the news, it's that redundancy is on speed dial #1 for backup. "Need filler? Dial 1!" Here we have the same exact information as previously stated, but this time with a few new surprises. Most importantly, we now know that the inspector in charge of this case is proudly named "Eddy Bosch". Eddy really sounds like the kind of intelligent individual we need on a tough case like this too, and with a short and witty last name like Bosch, he's almost guaranteed to be the most qualified man in all of Australia when it comes to this type of midnight gecko hunt gone wrong slash accidental fall down old cement sewer well situation. I've actually even heard that Eddy is considering new business cards to mark the occasion:

Eddy Bosch

"Yup. He's definitely dead."

Midnight Gecko Hunt Gone Wrong Slash Accidental Fall Down Old Sewer Well Situation Inspector Gadget.

Good for you, Eddy. You're finally going places. Getting business cards made is the first step to being successful - or a drawer full of lots of useless business cards. Worse case scenario, Eddy, you can keep them with your weirdly compelling collection of assorted lint. .. and eddy, while we're on the subject, we really need to talk about that whole "lint collection" thing you've been kinda doing lately ..

Wow, reader, wow. I was so side-tracked by designing Eddy's new business cards that I completely forgot about the second hilarious part of this particular footnote. You see, if you look closely, you will notice that Inspector Eddy tells us that the "man and his mate" were out hunting together. Now, don't jump to conclusions as I did. You know... two guys... middle of the night... old cement structure with a door in it... but wait.

Maybe - just maybe - since the article was written in Australia for Australians, he means what we may more commonly refer to as a "buddy", a "pal", a "friend", or even a "home-boy-G-dog-money" if he isn't white. It could easily be read by Australians as "a man and his friend" but when I read it - and I know I'm not alone - I see: "a man and his homosexual gay life-partner companion...mate".

a long and drawn out dramatic pause was once again felt across all of the interwebs. this time, however, a single baby, somewhere in the world, somehow caught fire and then suddenly exploded. normally this would be absolutely devestating, but luckily the explosion itself took out the baby's entire family.

(4) "'They have walked past a cement structure which had a door in it,' Insp Bosch told Southern Cross Broadcasting."

Thank you, Eddy, for that very descriptive and useful statement. They have "walked" - not run - "walked" - past a .. what was it? A "struc- struc-... struc-ture"? With a ... a what? A "door"? A "door" in it? You're tellin' me the door was built right into this structure? They walked past something like that? Well, I think you've just about solved "The Case of the Sympathetic, Animal Loving, Stoned, and Probably Slightly Defective Youth," Inspector Bosch. In fact, I just received word that they've already initiated a code blue; writers are being drop shipped in as fast as possible to get started on a new Nancy Drew novel to depict your incredibly astute and sharp observations for future generations to come.

(5) "'One of the fellows has gone through that door and stepped into the structure and has unfortunately stepped into a disused shaft and he's fallen down that shaft.' A report on the man's death will be done for the Coroner."

Wait just a second, there, Turbo. Just a few sentences ago you told me that these two "mates" walked past a cement structure with a door in it. Now I'm to understand that one of our the two "fellows" has actually gone into this structure? He didn't use that door you were telling me about earlier, did he? Oh Jesus.

Now, I'd hate to sound that ignorant and sheltered over here in America where everything is much cooler and hip in general. Let me step back and attempt to be a bit more open-minded - even if only out of respect for the few Australians that can read. I'm sure in Australia everybody that's anybody knows that every night, without fail, the geckos of the world flock to "disused cement structures" in the city of Sydney. Luckily for our two hunters, the nocturnal Tasmanian polka-dotted flying gecko of death is almost always more prevalently drawn to "cement structures" specifically with a "door". My problem, I guess, is that over here in America, none of that makes any fucking sense. Maybe it's just me with my conservative upbringing, lack of real sunlight until the age of 16, or webbed feet. Or, maybe it's a combination of a number of other things that I can think of that are wrong with me. Maybe I, like you, could have spent the last half hour reading about something actually useful and just let this article slide. But no.

I would also, if I may, like to point out the very unexpected use of the word "unfortunately" as a definitive turning point for me in the epic tale that is: "Gecko hunt ends in death fall". I am not going to lie to you, dear reader, and state that I was actually touched by the use of the word "unfortunately", but I was definately surprised. Not surprised by the hint of any actual human emotion, but by the profound realization I had shortly after. I think now I can finally feel comfortable in saying, without any doubt in my mind, that...

The robot that wrote this knows that death is bad.

I highly doubt the robot actually thinks "death is bad". Words are confusing and drawn out to most robots - if you weren't already aware. These robot columnists at do not think on the same wavelengths as us intelligent, witty, and good-looking Americans do. We're also not entirely composed of circuitry, wiring, and pure-southern-hemisphere evil either.

Well, when news breaks, it breaks - even if it's not really news. And, as humans, our calculations can only be so precise. With that said, I would like to announce that, with the help of Microsoft, Google, PETA, NASA, the NRA, and Mrs. Hoover's 3rd grade science class, we are actually lucky enough to have what is now being considered the most probable raw code used for compiling this efficient, but complex, Australian journalist robot:


int darwin_award(bool death)

char no_no;
if (death == 1)

no_no = "unfortunately";
return no_no;







If the above looks like nothing but mere jibberish to you, please do not worry, citizen. Our engineers at NASA have been running a tracer program from space for the past 36 hours. We have just received the first photographic proof that not only are the robots made of foam and pieces of people, they're bipedal and can dance. This is worse than we even began to dream it could be:


I know the above image is difficult take in all at once. Even when I first saw the image I was so struck by shock that I vomitted profusely, followed by peeing myself and quietly weeping. .. are they buying it .. ? .. no.

...ok, so that isn't really what they look like. Nobody knows what they look like. I found the fucking dancing robot picture on google image search by typing in "australian robots". You can't blame me for wanting to be ground breaking, god dammit. As long as you can look in the mirror at the end of the day and know that even if you are killed by shallow Australian word robots, you won't have to look at anything scarier than this while you are slowly drained of everything that you cherish and love:

Hah. Bearded.


In conclusion, I would like to point out that if the anticipated incident report by Inspector Eddy is not procured in a timely manner, it is rumored that he will receive zero credit on it. Without Inspector Eddy's report, we will be left with no other choice but to place the responsibility on the coroner to say, "Yup, he's dead alright. Cold too." Eddy's going to therapy more now though, so I'm pretty sure we'll be set.



What have we learned, dear reader? Well, I don't know what you've learned, but I'll tell you what I've learned:

1) do not go hunting at night for geckos in Australia, or anything anywhere. ever.

2) do not get a pet that eats rare nocturnal geckos that need to be caught daily in order to keep your pet alive. for further information on how to keep your pet alive, please go outside and find somebody that knows how to feed themself and ask them how they do it. do what they do but with pet food for your pet - it really works.

3) do not trust anyone named Eddy Borsch. unless you suddenly have an urgent need for a shit-load of run-on sentences right away, i'll bet you nine times out of ten the little mexican kid down the street with the thick-ass lisp and clef lip will do it for a quarter. i bet he'd even do it for free if you beat him up first. hell - he'd probably be your own personal little mexican for life if you can gather up enough guts to molest the living hell out of him put him through college. i wouldn't. i'm just saying, you could if you really needed the extra help around the house.

4) there are many different types of pandimensional superbeings. some of them have hands for eyes. it is not a requirement for everyone to be scared of this specific type of superbeing - I just choose to be because it tickles just right.

5) do not die in Australia. if you die in Australia, the robots that are responsible for reporting on the untimely deaths of genuine, hard-working people, are all complete assholes. They may appear to care, but as soon as you turn around, that robot is going to be thinking about something completely unrelated and probably more fun. Those sly bastards.

6) it's surprising how a whole lot of 'nothing to do' can easily turn into a whole lot of 'nothing to read'. hah. witty.

-Brandon is completely nuts.



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