Natural Disaster - FUCK YEAH

When Bruce Gyngell said those immortal words "Good evening everyone and welcome to television" I wonder if he thought he had started an electronic piece
of fly paper. We all know it's bad for you but we're drawn to it's sticky goodness only to be trapped by it and find it's not really what we thought it was.

My day to day life is kept as simple as humanly possible, I get out of bed, I make a coffee and sit down to watch Kochy and his pathetic jokes before I set off into the great jungle of reality. This morning I was greeted by a fucking flood of journo's humming towards the Victorian bushfires like those flies to the sticky paper. Ever seen the tide come in up north in low gradient ? squint and you will see Liz Hayes and her entourage of make up artists, camermen, sound and visual techs, psychologist, script guy, legal advisor, and the ghost of Richard Carlton. Look a little closer and Ray Martin's hair can be seen.

Do these cunts really give a fuck about these people ? Every time there is a natural disaster or human tragedy these leeches are onto it like Kevin Rudd onto his next private jet to Malaysia. Remember those two bogans trapped down the mine shaft ? I don't, but the chocolate wheel and ping pong ball clowns outside the mines front gate seems to stick in my memory. Legend has it Richard Carlton really died because the party hat he was wearing was contricting the blood flow.

Now don't get me wrong, there is some real genuine fucking suffering, people dying, life long injuries, and the threat of Eddie McGuire making an appearance to pitch a bid to exclusively interview some kid with half his face missing. But seriously, WHAT THE FUCK, this shit makes me sick. Some nuffy from channel 9 the other day bought himself a brand spanking new SES jumpsuit (so newly bright it in itself could have caused 3rd degree burns) and ponced around the death zone like he was a kid with a magnifying glass.

Suddenly Safari suit tops are also the rage when you're on location at a natural disaster, like they think they are some BBC correspondant on mission in Rwanda who speaks only through his nostrils.

Things must have been quiet this week, then some fat cunt in the head office of Channel Borg peeled himself off his Count Dracula office chair to scream 'NATURAL DISASTER FUCK YEAH, get your sweet arse down there, and take some lollypops for the charcoaled kid with no parents' *HIGH FIVE*

And all the while, I can't even channel hop through our admittedly poor choice of channels to find something midly interesting as some c grade celebrity cooking a fat buster lunch, while trying to quietly mull over this tragedy without being bombarded with some fucking shiney foreheaded news reporter sticking a mic in the gob of a new widow who's suffering from smoke inhalation.

FUCK, time for an SBS tit search, apparently I missed Miss Nude Australia last week while the cricket was on, they just don't fucking think when they schedule this shit.