The rising cost of petrol, from 80c/litre a few years ago to the current price of bendoverandtakeit/litre has had an effect on every single Australian. It's seen the cost of groceries and other goods rise from extra shipping costs, seen 250g blocks of Cadbury Chocolate rise from $3.98 to $4.07 at Woolies, seen a slump in large car sales and has led to a general tightening of the wallets. Coupled with interest rate rises and inflation, the lower-income earners of Australia are especially feeling the pinch.




Which is why yesterday, the Sunday Telegraph decided to turn their attention to the heartland of low-income earners, to where the real battlers live - in the mean streets of Castle Hill.

For those of you that do not know Castle Hill, it's the flashiest part of Baulkham Hills in Sydney's west. It's the jewel in Alan Cadman's crown, the mecca of metros and the wallet of the Garden Shire. So, what better place than to get middle Australia's reaction to the petrol prices.



(at this point, Tommy realised his Dad had already put the Sunday Telegraph from yesterday in the recycling)



(right about now, Tommy realised he was fucked, so tried to cover. let's watch)



I won't quote the article word for word, but the general gist was they took three or so families from Howard Street in Castle Hill (lol cause it's the name of the Prime Minister), and asked them how petrol prices were affecting their family budgets. Which, I'm guessing probably include scholarship fees to private schools, Foxtel Digital subscriptions and a 10% tithe to their local Church.

Now, obviously these families are geared up to their neck with mortgage repayments, but that's their choice. You have to pay for the privilege of owning a house in a suburb with no Mosques. So when I read one family of four bitching about petrol prices, then see they're paying to fill up three cars, including one 4wD Pajero (!!), it doesn't exactly pluck at my heart strings.

Nor does this exact (kinda) quote from one of the McMums...

'It's gotten to the point where I can put $10 of petrol in the Saab, and it doesn't even get past empty'

Hmm. You know things are bad when you can't even fill up your Saab without having to sacrifice your bi-weekly Pad Thai. How ever will she afford her Skim Milk Frappacino with Chocolate and Cinnamon Flavour Infusions? WHAT IF SHE CAN'T BUY A NEW BREAD MAKER?!@

You can't really tell, but this is a tiny, tiny violin

Now don't get me wrong, I come from a rich family, I went to a private school and I am currently in a long-term relationship with Foxtel Digital, but I'd like to think if the Sunday Telegraph came calling, I would have the decency not to complain about my horrible plight when there's people in this country that can't even afford fucking medicine.


So, in conclusion, let's go egg Howard Street.

The Honourable Alan Cadman preparing for a bombing run of Kellyville

As you probably know by now, I'm an excellent debator. You could call me a master debator. I don't think I've ever lost a debate, I've beaten more people with my master debating skills than anybody I know. In fact, if I had to hand pick a job for myself, in some kind of hand-picked-job competition, I'd probably choose debator. And no debate is more...debated than the war between the Cadbury Crunchie and the Nestle Violet Crumble.

I consider myself somewhat of a..... ican'tspellconniseur when it comes to chocolate, and to me, this is simple. The Crunchie is superior in every way. For one, Crunchies are covered in Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate, while Violet Crumbles are covered in Nestle TastesLikeShit chocolate. Score one for the good guys.

Secondly, honeycomb. Some people like the traditional, solid honeycomb found in Violet Crumble over the bubbly, aerated honeycomb of the Crunchie.

Those people are rapists.

Call me crazy, but when I bite into a chocolate bar, I don't like to leave a molar behind. However, the Crunchie isn't perfect in this department. Next time you bite into a Crunchie, take a look at the edges of the bar. On one side, and only one side of the Crunchie, is a honeycomb so sticky, so chewy and so horrible that it almost ruins what is, until that moment, one of the Cadbury God's finest creations. I call it The Edge Of Terror.




You can't escape it. King Size Crunchies have it, regular Crunchies have it, "Fun" size Crunchies have it. It's like the fat friend of the hot girl, it's always there and it gets stuck in your mouth. A seasoned Crunchie eater is wary of this nefarious honeycomb suicide bomber, and so takes it out early. It looks dumb, but devouring this edge of your Crunchie before you get to the good stuff is the only solution. Otherwise, every bite you take will be tainted by a honeycomb fouler tasting than Lindsay Lohan's number 2's.

But, even in light of the Edge Of Terror, the Crunchie wins here too. Two-nothing Crunchie.

Did I mention it was best two out of three?


Crunchie Wins

CRUNCH-TALITY

As part of my Get More Hits initiative of 2006, and because all the cool blogs have them, I've chucked some links in the sidebar to some of the sites and blogs I read regularly. Give them a gander if you've got the time. And, if you've got any site you want to plug, or a site you think is oh daymmn man he did not just do that awesome, post a comment in this thread with the URL.


Love,


Tommy

People always throw around claims of anti-semitism in the media, especially when it comes to Israel vs Palestine: The Never Ending War-y. For some reason, a large chunk of this world hates the Jews. Maybe it's because the world's only Jewish state just happens to be smack bang in the middle of the most significant religious area in the world, surrounded by a few million Muslim neighbours who'd love nothing more than their instant obliteration. Or maybe it's because of Streisand. Who knows. (Streisand, probably)

And sometimes, these claims of anti-semitism are proved true. Check out this. Freelance Lebanese photographer Adnan 'Buy A Vowel' Hajj was caught doctoring photos taken of the Israel/Lebanon Conflict. In one photo, he added extra smoke to a scene of the Beirut suburbs. In another, he added extra flares to a photo of an Israeli jet, in order to make it look like it was... shooting... more......flares.

In another, he photoshopped his head onto an underwear model's body, and put it on his MySpace so he could pick up chicks. Hot, Lebanese chicks.

But despite his horrible anti-semitism and even worse photshopping, I'm good mates with Hajj. I call him 'Harry The Leb', because I can't say foreign names. He calls me 'zionist pig dog'. It's a thing we have. He also gang raped me.

And because we're such good mates, I have access to the undoctored, untouched, Hajj original photos. Take a look, as we talk a pilgrimage through The Hajj Files...

Our first pic is of Hezbollah terrorists creating a crude, propane explosive to ward off Israeli tanks in the southern suburbs of Beirut. This is what Hajj sent to Reuters...




And now, look at the original.






Can you see the slight difference? No? Let's try another one.


This next photo is slightly disturbing, an Israeli man being set alight trying to rescue children from a burning bus near the Israeli border. A truly noble act, captured by Hajj. But he couldn't resist doctoring this picture before he sent it to press. Here's what Reuters published...



And now, here's the original photo, free from photoshopping or any doctoring whatsoever...









Truly troubling stuff.

If only Hajj had the journalistic integrity of Australian newspapers like The Daily Telegraph.

Like a good journo, I am obligated to present both sides of arguments (unless it's bagging out Wil Anderson). Therefore, I give you the following guest blog by the richest 21 year-old I know, Whymsy.

Note: Like most conservatives, Whyms lacks a funny bone (and a soul). Therefore, I have taken the liberty of bringing the funny with my trademark, hilarious captions.

Note: Tommy makes no guarantee in regards to the hilarity of the captions


So, without further ado, let this guest blog take you on a journey into the dark, depraved depths of....


The Hypocrisies of the Labor Party
A guest blog

For the 10% of the readership of TommyIsCool.com that don't know me, my name is Whymsy. I am not a Greenpeace tree hugging hippy, and I am not a Labor supporter. I fit somewhere in between, and I support sound financial economic management. So, I must be a Liberal Supporter. I am the Ying to Tommy's Yang, I am the voice of reason, and the voice of sanity to Tommy when he comes out with some outlandish shit like "Mark Latham should be the Prime Minister of Australia."

Vampire Latham Disagrees

As some of you may know, last Wednesday the Federal Reserve Bank of Australia lifted the official cash interest rate to 6.00%, and the hypocrisy that has been bantered around the media is incredible. I feel it is my duty as the resident TommyIsCool.com financial analyst to post this report.

Hypocrisy #1:

NSW Premier Morris Iemma made quite a few comments in the media stating that Peter Costello should influence and sway the Reserve Bank's decision to raise interest rates. Now, for those of us who have an idea about politics and what goes on in the running of our country, we know back when Paul Keating was Prime Minister of this great nation he seperated any ties the government had with the Reserve Bank for matters that I will touch on later. So how Costello could have done anything is beyond my understanding, and just the whinging of a Premier who has NFI.

My government's position is clear - we do whatever The Daily Telegraph says to do

What the people of NSW should really be concerned about is the fact that our Premier is looking for excuses and other people to blame when in fact NSW has been ridden into a state of complete disrepair by possibly the biggest joke of a Premier we have ever had. I bring before you Bob Carr. Now whilst Bob Carr had a sense of humour, took bets with QLD around State of Origin time and sounded like he had the voice of a man with three testicles, his poor management of our state over a ten-year period is just too depressing and too long to list here on this blog. Transport, health care and the sheer weight of bullshit taxes are just a few glaring problems we have in this state.

I sold the lease on my third testicle to Macquarie Bank

Hypocrisy #2:

Federal Opposition Leader Kim Beazley is having a whinge that the Liberal Goverment promised to keep interest rates low, and that 6.00% is just too high for Australians to live the lifestyles they want! If there was a way I could tell you how angry I am and how much of an idiot I think Kim Beazley is, I would do it. The Liberal Goverment cannot directly effect interest rates,but they have indirectly kept interest rates low for a long period of time through sound economic and financial management.

If Kim was in charge of this fine country of ours, even with just one new fuel law that he wants to pass, the average families fuel bill would go up to $210 per week and put far more pressure on inflation than what there is now, and according to analysts, send our interest rates up to around the 10.5% mark.

Now how is that going to support the Australian lifestyle?

Coincidentally, Kim Beazley's second and third chins can support the Australian lifestyle for another two decades

What good ol' Kim also fails to mention is that - before a lot of you kids may remember - Labor were actually our federal government at one time. Back in the late eighties and early nineties we were led by the honourable (ha) Paul Keating. As I mentioned earlier, he seperated the Reserve Bank from the government, he did this to take pressure off himself as interest rates climbed to an all time high of 18% (22% for business) during the recession that "We had to have".

Now if memory serves me correct Kim Beazley was the Treasurer during this period of time in the early nineties, so his recollection of this should be very clear.


I hope all who have read this will be more the wiser.


Your friendly Tommyiscool.com financial analyst,



Whymsy





(Paid for by the Liberal Party, Canberra.)

When you're young, life is simple. When you're playing with your brother in the front yard and you graze your ankle, you go to the big tree near the neighbours fence and rub some purple flowers on it. And damn it, it works. And when you're bored, you don't need an XBox 360, or Foxtel Digital, or Jenna Jameson. All you need is some ACTION FIGURES

Action figures provided the staple of my entertainment needs until the invention of the internet. At first, they were hand-me-downs. My brother's old Action Man, complete with eyes that you could move from side to side (shifty eyes). My brother's old G.I Joe and M.A.S.K figures, my sister's Playhouse Barb-

And then, in 1989 at the ripe old age of 6, I got my first action figure of my own. It was one of WWF Superstar Rick Rude, complete with poseable headlock grip. That was quickly followed by WWF Superstar Jake 'The Snake' Roberts, who had a spring-loaded arm (though, unlike his real-life counterpart, no crack addiction).

My collection rose quickly. Batman, Robin, more wrestlers, a few more wrestlers, another Batman, Ninja Turtles, more wrestlers. I even got some vehicles, like the Batmobile and the Ninja Turtles armoured car that shot plastic pizza. Awesome.

But as I got older, playing Batman vs Hulk Hogan in my scale WWF Ring got boring. I was getting older too, in my pre-teens, and I couldn't be seen playing with tiny little dolls, no matter how wicked my Bruce Wayne To Batman action figure was. So, I started painting them.

It was like those guys who used to collect and paint Warhammer figures in Year 8, except mine were half-naked men, and rather than painting in minute detail, I coloured them in odd combinations of child paint and Posca pens. Black was my primary colour, because black was cool, and so was painting wrestling figures.

This post is really useless without pics, so for some god forsaken reason, I'm going show you how fucked up I was as a child.

My first wrestling figure hand-me down.
A Hulk Hogan thumb wrestler, which I drew
'CHAMP' and a fake title belt on for some reason.

It's for your THUMB, you sickos (trust me, I tried)


My very first figure, Rick Rude, giving a noogie to Tatanka


Classic, Gay Robin


Bruce Wayne, complete with the only two parts
of his Batman costume I didn't lose or eat

Bruce Wayne running Gay Robin the fuck over

My sister had a Princess Jasmine figure from Alladin,
so I stole it and turned her into a slut for my wrestling figures

Kane raping Princess Jasmine. She was asking for it.


I didn't have a Ric Flair figure, so I made one. The resemblance is uncanny.

The Ultimate Warrior has no fingers


My evil Doink The Clown figure, next to what he looked like before I molested him with paint and cut off his hair so he looked like a lesbian

Batman, if he lived in Rome and had access to high quality bulletproof rubber

So ends the tour through Tommy's childhood subconscious. I'm perfectly sane, seriously.

Mel Gibson is sure in a lot of trouble. First, he's caught drunk driving. Then, a gossip blog finds a photo of Mel, drunk out of his mind, alongside some ugly skank.



And to top it all off, he puts himself in a pantload of shit by blaming the 'fucking Jews' for all the 'wars in the world'. Which, technically, is correct. Steven Spielberg did direct War of The Worlds. But attacking Jews is not the best way to look after your career in Hollywood. I'm sure the Weinstein's at Miramax, or Michael Eisner, or former WCW World Heavyweight Champion Bill Goldberg won't be lining up to work with Mel now. And if he thinks he has a chance in hell of making a buddy flick with Kyle's Jewish Cousin Kyle from South Park, he's got another thing coming.

But focusing on Mel's hate of the circumcised ignores the bigger crime.

From the original report on TMZ.com

I'D CLICK ON IT TO MAKE IT BIGGER IF I WAS YOU

Yes. Mel Gibson is Anti-Sugar Tits.

Sugartititis is a painful condition affecting thousands of women world-wide. For many, it means they are unable to breastfeed their own children, due to risks of a sugar-overload. Lactation from Sugartititis sufferers was revered as a delicacy in many African nations for centuries, where the 'lucky' women afflicted by the disease were forcefully milked. Surprisingly, a job as a Sugartititis Milker was not sought after by African males, because even they don't find black chicks attractive.

Colonisation saw the practice spread quickly to the Western world, and the use of industrial milking machines quickly streamlined the entire process. Today, excretions from Sugartititis sufferers are available in many different forms and in most major supermarkets. They are commonly known as 'Sweetened Condensed Milk'.

So while you watch as the world's media attacks Mel Gibson for daring to blame the world's problems on one single religion, spare a thought for the silent victims of this whole event. Those sweet, sweet, silent sugar titties.