NaySayers

March 23, 2018 at 3:59 am | Posted in Article | 2 Comments
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What could possibly go wrong.

Think you’re hot shit? You may be half right. Better to learn the awful truth from a pair of inveterate washouts than fall flat on your face before family and friends.

Especially if you owe them money.

We’re not your friends. As abject failures, we desperately want you to f*ck up too. But that doesn’t mean we’ll skimp on our dire advice.

You see, there’s only one thing more fun than watching shiny happy people crash and burn. And that’s watching them do so after failing to heed our strident warnings.

That calls for a special celebration. Which is why we turn every slimy stone to give you all the help you need (and ideally ignore).

Give your yang a yink.

For $444, we’ll examine your book idea, brand name, business venture, product design, capital acquisition project or other stupid, middle-aged thought bubble and list everything we can imagine that could go wrong.

Forewarned is forearmed. So, by having these obstacles and pitfalls flagged in advance, you won’t come a cropper at your most embarrassing moment.

And if you do happen to succeed, vengeance shall be thine. You can rub our sorry faces in the muck we chucked and force us to choke on our miserable words.

At which time, we’ll doff our shapeless, unfashionable caps, let you buy us lunch and say: well played!

Which part of NO don’t you understand?

If you’re surrounded by witless friends, vested toadies and grasping kin, who on Satan’s blasted Earth will ever tell you the truth about your latest folly?

We’ve wasted two lifetimes screwing up everything that moves, so we know all the angles.

Don’t blow four grand on a fart-catching business analyst to tell Brilliant You what you already know.

Use our bleak, narrow, expert assessment to drill down to the cracked Vegemite of boundless agony few souls can conceive, let alone discern.

Hello darkness! (Your new friend.)

Failure. It’s in our blood. Who better to spot it than two long-term depressives with PTSD and acute anxiety?

You go through life like everything’s fine. Thanks to our respective child abuse incidents, we leap at the squeak of a soft toy and can’t even use public toilets.

You like surprises. They leave us housebound for days. With ample time to see where you went wrong before you go there.

Despite four degrees and 60 years’ experience between us, we’ve failed at numerous careers, businesses and relationships. Today, we can’t even land a job at Bunnings – let alone hold it for ten pissing seconds.

Feast on our tears.

Our loss is your gain. We’ve failed again and again (and again) so you don’t have to.

You say fiesta, we say fiasco.

Call NaySayers.

And let us call your whole thing

‘off’!


If you enjoyed this post, you may wish to:

Your smallest kindness may spare us an early grave.


Pic by Melanie Hayes.

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Bryceless

August 11, 2017 at 6:37 am | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment
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Bryce Courtenay

 

This writing advice from Bryce Courtenay is the best I’ve ever received.

My intensely supportive wife (who knows me as Feisty) stood long in a line to reach him.

She told him how I wanted to write, but didn’t know how.

Bryce’s candour was a bit of a shock to her.

She worried how I’d take it.

But it was precisely the boot up the arse (ass) I needed.

So, my deepest thanks to these remarkable people.

May my efforts be worthy.

And may I not waste time.

 

Brought to you by Imagine Day the book.

 

 

 

Adam

February 3, 2010 at 4:06 pm | Posted in Poem | Leave a comment
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Photo by AlaskaTeacher

My goodly mate Adam

Was kindly and smart.

He had a big brain and

He had a big heart.

His IQ was thrice mine

Twice doubled and then

Paired with the first number

Plus three score and ten.

His spirit was open;

His largesse a crime.

He gave ten percentiles

Though he’d not a dime.

He moved through his life with

Attention and care.

He had all the fixings

He was all but there.

Yet ever so down in

The small of his back,

An unguarded portal

Open to attack.

A target for mean things

Like toothpicks and fluff

And burrs, glass and gravel

And other shite stuff.

Instead of a bandaid

Or maybe a shirt,

He twisted and strained to

Check out all these hurts.

This thing in its doing

Brought Adam to ground.

But when he arrived there,

Not a foe was found.

Ensconced in their bolt holes

Safe in their disguise.

They mocked and they jeered him

And bested his eyes.

Meanwhile the bright sunshine

Impatient to rest

Moved over the mountains

And on to the west.

Instead of a young man

With noble head high,

A hunched figure fretting

With bulldust and flies.

The day is not over.

The sun is not set.

There’s time yet to rise up

And over things get.

So stand to, young soldier,

Thy head from the sand.

Your heart and your brain seek

To know this fine land.

Press on ye regardless

Of everyday crud.

F*ck all of the numbnuts!

And go unto God.

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