It was not for him.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Friday, October 02, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The HIStory of punk & blanket: A Gift Circle
In case you haven't heard, Michael Jackson has died. Cause of death is unknown but he basically expired. We have always loved Mike. It's time to tell how much.
Back in 2003, unsated after throwing Lady Di down the stairs, a villain named Martin Bashir, set upon Michael and a lot of people believed the filth he cast. We were killing time in a fashion forum, reading skin care product reviews and hunting for bargains in the swap shop when the witch hunt for Michael and then Debbie Rowe kicked in. We leapt to their defence and were surprised at how many young ladies were so prudish and old fashioned. The ferocity of their disdain seemed maladaptive. Our battle raged after Deb talked about her Gift to Michael in his response doco. They just didn't get it, didn't get Deb.
It was around this time that blanket's name changed from NatalieJohns to blanket, not realising what this simple act had set in motion. Shortly after, we built a virtual altar to Debbie Rowe in an effort to give back something to this woman who had given so much. A few people heard the call, others maintained their narrow views and eventually we were expelled, blocked, banned. We had run out of aliases and left as punk and blanket to go it alone.
We have always believed in Debbie and now that she's back in focus we'd like to remind everyone: she's just another surrogate. A surrogate with a Gift. She gave Michael the gift of Paris and Prince 1 and she gave us the gift of our identity. Today, we give her our support once again.
It's a circle of gifts.
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Back in 2003, unsated after throwing Lady Di down the stairs, a villain named Martin Bashir, set upon Michael and a lot of people believed the filth he cast. We were killing time in a fashion forum, reading skin care product reviews and hunting for bargains in the swap shop when the witch hunt for Michael and then Debbie Rowe kicked in. We leapt to their defence and were surprised at how many young ladies were so prudish and old fashioned. The ferocity of their disdain seemed maladaptive. Our battle raged after Deb talked about her Gift to Michael in his response doco. They just didn't get it, didn't get Deb.
It was around this time that blanket's name changed from NatalieJohns to blanket, not realising what this simple act had set in motion. Shortly after, we built a virtual altar to Debbie Rowe in an effort to give back something to this woman who had given so much. A few people heard the call, others maintained their narrow views and eventually we were expelled, blocked, banned. We had run out of aliases and left as punk and blanket to go it alone.
We have always believed in Debbie and now that she's back in focus we'd like to remind everyone: she's just another surrogate. A surrogate with a Gift. She gave Michael the gift of Paris and Prince 1 and she gave us the gift of our identity. Today, we give her our support once again.
It's a circle of gifts.
.jpg)
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Making Sure No-one Gets Hurt
A lot has happened since our last entry. We ended up taking the spooky poppets with us, wrapping them in aluminium foil so that they wouldn’t reflect any bad energy in the direction of the targets. We stared at them night after night, though we didn’t dare unwrap them, so really we were just staring at our own reflections. The answer was written all over our faces; we needed the relief only an intervention could bring.
Last Thursday, when we knew Claire would be out all day doing readings in the regions, we let ourselves into her house to prepare a comfortable and non-judgemental environment. We started burning some calming oils, strategically scattered some boxes of tissues, pre-chilled her Baileys and set up her foot spa. We didn’t bother getting a support person in for Claire because she’s got her guides.
Claire got home around six and asked us why the TV wasn’t on. We just came right out and told her she was party to an intervention, by us. She sat down, we put the poppets on the table and asked her if there was anything else she’d like us to see. Claire sat there silently for quite some time looking from one poppet to the other, it was hard to guess what she might be thinking. Then she got up and we followed her out the back to the bins. She stuck her hand in the bin (not the one for paper) and untaped a miniature version of Charmaine, Australia’s Most Gifted Psychic. She handed it to us and led us to the bathroom where John Butler’s little plastic legs were jutting out of the toilet covered in dirty rusting pins. She was about to hand it to us but we told her not to worry about that one. We walked back to the loungeroom and Claire seemed hesitant for a moment before she reached into her handbag and pulled out what appeared to be a ball of pins. She whispered, “It’s Nicholas Sarkosy”. We asked her if she thought there were any more. Claire shook her head.
After some extensive workshopping we were all in agreeance that the main problem is Grayam, and in a broader sense, all male models and the male modelling industry. Grayam is the only factor we can control in this dreadful scene so we have arranged through some Masonic contacts for Grayam to be fastracked into the Buttery to get off modelling. We hear he’s been attending songwriting workshops with Rick Grossman and that guy who used to be in Goanna.
Last Thursday, when we knew Claire would be out all day doing readings in the regions, we let ourselves into her house to prepare a comfortable and non-judgemental environment. We started burning some calming oils, strategically scattered some boxes of tissues, pre-chilled her Baileys and set up her foot spa. We didn’t bother getting a support person in for Claire because she’s got her guides.
Claire got home around six and asked us why the TV wasn’t on. We just came right out and told her she was party to an intervention, by us. She sat down, we put the poppets on the table and asked her if there was anything else she’d like us to see. Claire sat there silently for quite some time looking from one poppet to the other, it was hard to guess what she might be thinking. Then she got up and we followed her out the back to the bins. She stuck her hand in the bin (not the one for paper) and untaped a miniature version of Charmaine, Australia’s Most Gifted Psychic. She handed it to us and led us to the bathroom where John Butler’s little plastic legs were jutting out of the toilet covered in dirty rusting pins. She was about to hand it to us but we told her not to worry about that one. We walked back to the loungeroom and Claire seemed hesitant for a moment before she reached into her handbag and pulled out what appeared to be a ball of pins. She whispered, “It’s Nicholas Sarkosy”. We asked her if she thought there were any more. Claire shook her head.
After some extensive workshopping we were all in agreeance that the main problem is Grayam, and in a broader sense, all male models and the male modelling industry. Grayam is the only factor we can control in this dreadful scene so we have arranged through some Masonic contacts for Grayam to be fastracked into the Buttery to get off modelling. We hear he’s been attending songwriting workshops with Rick Grossman and that guy who used to be in Goanna.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Suspect Dolls in the Deep Freeze
Yesterday was 47 degrees. The hottest day ever and Melbourne was like hell. What went down could have been a result of the extreme conditions so at this stage we're prepared to have an open mind, but the evidence is pretty compelling that Claire's disdain for male models is becoming unhealthy.
Anyway, we are cooling off, dangling our feet in Claire's backyard deep freeze and we thought we might dig up some of Claire's homemade Baileys Gelato. Underneath the Patties Party Packs we uncovered three frozen poppets in the likeness of The Saddest Male Models In The World, some of them with pins stuck in them. We do not condone males becoming models but Claire's suburban voodoo practice is out of control and puts her at risk of karmic retribution.
As yet we haven't said anything to Claire because this could just be the tip of the iceberg, she may have poppets of us mocked up and ready to go. We're gonna be quiet on this one for a bit.
Anyway, we are cooling off, dangling our feet in Claire's backyard deep freeze and we thought we might dig up some of Claire's homemade Baileys Gelato. Underneath the Patties Party Packs we uncovered three frozen poppets in the likeness of The Saddest Male Models In The World, some of them with pins stuck in them. We do not condone males becoming models but Claire's suburban voodoo practice is out of control and puts her at risk of karmic retribution.
As yet we haven't said anything to Claire because this could just be the tip of the iceberg, she may have poppets of us mocked up and ready to go. We're gonna be quiet on this one for a bit.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Claire, Grayam and the Dark Prince of the Rockocracy
Claire came over the other day in a flap about Grayam. His house burnt down last week when he was watching Make Me A Supermodel. The TV went up in flames just as Jennifer Hawkins opened her mouth. He asked his Granny if he could stay at her place and Claire said he could on the strict proviso he give up modelling. Desperately he swore he would never do it again. Things are already wearing thin. Claire says Grayam lies on the couch all day long with the blinds drawn and reeks of vomit and sunscreen. He's obsessed with making ice cubes and she has found sunflower seeds stuffed under his pillow along with a well worn copy of Karl Lagerfeld's Diet Book. At meal times Clarie watches Grayam eat his food and wonders if she'll see it again later. And the worst thing happened this morning when she was tidying his scrapbooking mess and found this photo, clearly taken by Grayam, of new friend Jethro Lazenby playing dress ups with his Dad's old clothes.
Winner - Turkey Of The Year 2008
Last year's winning turkey comes from a very very tight field but never has the vote been so definite, our winner is the treacherous turkey, Baz Luhrmann. The gobbler tells New Zealand's Richard Wilkins that his movie is not about our land but about a state of mind. We are Australians but 'australia' plays no role in our cognitive awareness. And it seems many other Australians agree as we have been inundated with votes for Baz.
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