30.

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WELLINGTON AIRPORT:Just as I predicted, the Wellington Airport has come back with a list of top ten ideas for a sign on the Mirimar hill after running a forum on facebook, but warns that Wellywood is indeed still in the running.
Top ideas include Lord of the Rings, or some kind of wind, sculptures, which I’m all for. The two big statues standing guard on either side of the river in Lord Of The Rings is a great idea (nerd points), or a giant weta maybe?
In theme with the Hollywood sign comes “WELLYWOOD”, the rather obvious “WELLINGTON”, and “WETAWOOD”, the latter of which I would pick over just about anything else. If we’re going to copy the City of Shallows then it may as well be something made up as opposed to just putting Wellington up there with Mosgeil… woo hoo.
So. My vote's for a giant weta or WETAWOOD.
What’s everyone else’s opinion on this? I’m interested.
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CAROL-HANNAH SHOULD HAVE WON THE FINAL OF PROJECT RUNWAY:
That’s all I have to say about that really.

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KIDS BRANDED LIKE CATTLE:
Mark Seamands, from Washington state, is on trial for branding his 2 sons, 13 and 15, and his 18 year old daughter, with the letters SK – for Seamands’ Kids.
He is charged with assaulting the sons but not the daughter because she was old enough to give consent… WTF??? She gave consent??? Yeah, but it gets worse…
The boys are testifying in DEFENCE of their father because they are proud of their brands…
OWEEE OWEEE OWEEE…
Idiot Kids sound like they belong with their white trash freak of a dad…
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MOTHERS DAY BEATING IN MEXICO:
This is just Fucked.
The mayor of the town Pentantepec, in the southern state of Chiapas in Mexico, during a Mother’s Day concert in the town of Pueblo Nuevo, PUNCHED, KICKED, AND PULLED THE HAIR OF HIS WIFE(!!!) in front of the entire TOWN last Tuesday… Talk about Inappropriate…
“I tried to help her but the Mayor threatened me,” said the Mayor of P.N. to a reporter. “He beat her hideously!”
The Bad Mayor then tried to BRIBE the reporter on scene to Not report the story – epic fail.
Later in a radio interview, Bad Mayor and his wife are both heard denying anything out of place had happened…
Gee, what a heartwarming story…
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COCAINE RING USED A PICENZE, ITALY, CONVENT AS A COVER:
Excellent. I love it when God gets mixed up with Drug Trafficking…

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SO… GOOGLE IS THE WORLD’S BIGGEST SPY HUH?: Yeah, did you hear about this???
Freaky shit.
I’d tell you all about it, but it’s best to read it for yourselves…
Personally, I’m freaked out by this revelation, and WHY OH WHY is the media not on this like it’s 9/11???

http://www.stuff.co.nz/technology/3695625/Google-cars-gathered-home-internet-data-without-telling

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JAMES CAMERON’S AVATAR: YAAAAAAAAAAAWN.
In case you were wondering why I hadn’t jumped on this bandwagon yet, it’s because I was waiting to watch it all alone and develop my own opinion on it.
And My Opinion?
MEH.
1. Pretty, but silly too. I mean, if I wanted to live in a glow world I’d take some drugs and go to a rave in the 90’s.
2. The whole thing, not just the silly coloured Pandora, looked CGI. BADLY.
3. Gee, a big corporation trying to wipe out a tribe of natives, how imaginative and futuristic… OR, HAPPENING RIGHT NOW IN THIS DAY AND AGE AND ISN’T NEARLY SO CUTE AND PRETTY!!!
I hope James donated some of his millions to the tribes of all the depleted rainforests of the world… yeah right.
Overall?
Pretty, entertaining, and utterly forgettable. Just like Transformers 2. Yuck. .
JAMES WEBSTER AND THE BOOZE-DRINKING CULTURE:
You know, when I wrote that, I really wasn’t meaning to parody a Harry Potter title. But whatdoyaknow… I may as well go with the kids story theme…
***
Once upon a time, in the last couple of weeks, there lived a young man named James Webster, who lived in Auckland. James was an utterly unremarkable, ordinary, but happy 16 year old boy who lived with his Mum and Dad, went to an all boys school, had lots of mates, and loved to play his sports – especially rugby.
Unfortunately for him, James was born in a country that had a terrible binge drinking culture. Not only this, but the drinking culture within males who played rugby seemed to be doubly so. The young males who played this aggressive and competitive sport liked to celebrate their wins, or commiserate their losses, with an equally aggressive and competitive attitude towards drinking. They drank fast. They drank loud. They drank long… well… most of them tried to drink long. You see, it was the general goal of young drinkers to drink until they passed out. Usually in a pool of their own vomit.
One Saturday night, James told his family he was off to a friends place to study. Although the words “Saturday”, “Night”, and “Study” very clearly do not belong in the same sentence together, James’ family trusted him, and off he went… to his Nana’s liquor cabinet to steal a bottle of vodka and go to an 18th birthday party.
Once there, James was turned away at the door because it was at an R.S.A. Club. Rather than ditch the alcohol and go inside, James sat in his car and proceeded to scull the most of the contents of the bottle. Straight.
A little later on, James was discovered heavily intoxicated, and was placed in the recovery position and left on the lawn to sleep it off. In the morning, however, James was discovered dead, having died from alcohol poisoning.
THE END.
***
This story reminds me a lot of the 16 year old story of a friend of mine…
***
KATE BROWN AND THE BOOZE DRINKING CULTURE:
Once upon a time, 16 years ago, there lived a young girl named Kate Brown.
Kate Brown lived in Masterton, and was an utterly unremarkable 16 year old young woman, but she was not at all happy, like James Webster had been.
Kate Brown didn’t live with her Mum and Dad. And the Mum and Dad she used to live with weren’t even her real Mum and Dad!
You see, Kate Brown had been abandoned by her birth mother, and was adopted by Mr and Mrs Brown. But as their daughter grew, Mr and Mrs Brown decided that parenthood just wasn’t really for them, and so when Kate was 8 years old they sent her off to boarding school.
Kate was very unhappy with this decision, and soon relations between her and her parents were at an all time low.
No longer wanting to make a scene, and finding their difficult daughter just far too much trouble to deal with in the holidays, Kate was sent into foster care two years later.
Kate found herself bouncing from family to family, most of them not very kind or loving towards her, and by 12 she had inevitably found her way to booze, drugs, and boys. These things seemed to take care of those awful feelings inside her, and so she embraced them as tight as she could.
Unfortunately, Kate Brown grew up in the same binge drinking country that James had, and even more unfortunately, nothing about the country’s attitude toward binge drinking changed in the 16 years between their deaths.
One Sunday afternoon, the last day of the school holidays before the new, and last, term for the year began, Kate and some of the people she partied with – none of whom were exactly “friends” – decided to get drunk.
Kate, in her haste to get wasted, bought herself a large bottle of whiskey and sculled the whole thing back in three gulps.
Unsurprisingly, not much later Kate was heavily intoxicated and passing out. Her friends put her in the bathtub to sleep it off, but unfortunately, Kate was never to wake up again.
THE END.
***
The Moral of these stories?
It doesn’t matter where you come from, or what kind of upbringing you have, or even what era you are born in…
IF THE COUNTRY DOES NOT RADICALLY ADJUST IT’S STEADY AND PROUD BINGE DRINKING CULTURE, THEN TEENAGE ALCOHOL DEATHS ARE INEVITABLE.
Why aren’t there people in our teenage classrooms right now teaching the simple chemistry of “TOO MUCH ALCOHOL + YOUNG BLOOD = DEATH”?
I’m fairly certain I wasn’t taught anything to do with alcohol intake at school when I was a teenager, presumably because the school a. doesn’t want to touch it with a ten foot barge pole, or b. because they view that sort of thing as the parents’ responsibility.
When really?
IT IS EVERY ADULTS RESPONSIBILITY. I know quite well that James or Kate could just have easily been Me. Or quite a few of my friends too.
We were never taught about alcohol intake. And we only learnt from experience. Some of which I guess we were lucky to wake up from.
If we want the kids of today to survive tomorrow, then maybe it’s time we started looking at ourselves, and what we are teaching them just by our living.
And if it’s a case of “Don’t Do As I Do” then teach them WHY you don’t want them to do what you do. If you can do that convincingly then more power to ya, but… everyone knows Kids Do What We Do. Mostly.
At first, I was just annoyed that Kate’s death didn’t get a big song and dance like the popular, well-liked private school white boy’s death did.
Kate’s death, in fact, was given barely any fanfare whatsoever.
The principal told us all in a mass school assembly, followed quickly by a speech about how he didn’t want this bad news to affect our main purpose of studying for end of year exams, and that was that. The whole affair was over in 5 minutes.
Because Kate had Not been a star pupil, there was no song and dance for her. I remember saying at the time
“If it had been one of the First Fifteen they’d be building a gold statue in the middle of the fucking Oval.”

James Webster, in effect, has been given a metaphorical golden statue. His name is now and forever etched into public memory.

But he is not the first teenager to die from alcohol poisoning, nor will he be the last.
There was no nothing for Kate. No news stories, no mass outcry…
Fellow students were BANNED from attending her private funeral, and we were threatened with Expulsion if we did decide to go.
When we EVENTUALLY managed to convince Mrs. Brown to allow us to view Kate’s body and have our own goodbye, the principal turned it into a sick School Trip – permission slips, school uniforms, and a ride in the school Van MANDATORY.
To be honest, however, I’m glad we got even that.
It was good for us to have that goodbye with Kate, rather than nothing… Even IF she was dressed in the kind of Nightgown she really WOULD have only been seen dead in.

And for some reason I’ve never been able to understand, her Neck was… missing.

An empty and hollow flap of skin tucked in between her head and shoulders…

It was TRULY bizarre, and I’ve never seen anything like it before or since, NOR has anyone been able to offer me an explanation as to why this might have been…
But I’m sidetracking.
And you all get the drift.
This kind of teenage binge drinking death has been going on forever, and it seems to be only lately are we finally opening our eyes from the hangover and starting to think about what alcohol is doing to this country.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a drink as much as the next person, and I’ve been known to drink for days and days on end – a week straight during one Dunedin winter with my mate Dave.
But I know my limit.
NOW.
The younger generation just need to be SHOWN, not TOLD, that drinking to oblivion is Not the point…
Unfortunately for them, the generation above them is going to have to embrace this first…

I wish the teenagers of tomorrow the best, and sincerest, of Luck... .

29.
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GOOD BOOKS… AND WHY I DON’T READ THEM:
Winter is just around the corner and the time to huddle up on the couch with books is upon us.
I could really use some suggestions on this front people!!!
Please leave your lists in the comment box below, or e-mail them to
themadscorpion@gmail.com
and I will definitely take them into consideration.
Hell, I’ll even review them… although, if you’re recommending them, you probably know what they’re about and what they’re like… cough cough…
Anyway, good books please.
For a writer, I’m an extremely bad reader.
I never used to be.
I used to be an avid reader, and Roald Dahl was pretty much my idol.
AND THEN…
And then I went to Writing School.
I was the first student they’d ever allowed onto the course that was straight out of high school.
Their usual policy was Not to let in people That Young and straight out of school because,
quite frankly,
they didn’t think One could be that good a writer without even a little bit of Life Experience behind them. Fair enough.
However, based on the stories I sent in– and one day I will dig them up and post them on here
(‘Dear Louise’ – a trilogy of short stories centered on the after-effects of letters sent in to a homicidal magazine psychic)
– and after they interviewed me, they decided to accept me!
(There is a point, I’m getting to it)
My interview was… well let’s put it this way.
*
SCENE: A young SCORPION, and his 35 year old MOTHER are sitting in a polytech classroom. On chairs in front of them are ADRIENNE, the course director, and MARIANNE, one of the tutors.

ADRIENNE: We were very impressed with the stories you sent in.
SCORPION:…… Thank you.
MARIANNE: How old are you Scorpion?
SCORPION: 17.
MARIANNE: Well they were very good. It’s clear that you know how to write a story and you understand the structure of writing.
SCORPION:……. Ummmmmmmmm…. Thanks.
ADRIENNE: Why do you want to do this course?
SCORPION:…… *Shrugs* I just wanna write.
MOTHER: It’s true. Ever since he could write he’s just always been writing stories.
ADRIENNE: Really?
SCORPION:…… Yeah.
MOTHER: He used to enter short story competitions all the time. He even won a few prizes, didn’t you?
SCORPION:… I only came second.
MARIANNE: And why do you want to be a writer Scorpion?
SCORPION:…*Shrugs* I dunno. I’ve just always done it. I don’t really know what else I’d be.
*
I think I eventually warmed up and probably told them my interests were Writing and Acting, but basically, I didn’t really have to Convince them to let me in because I was Clearly too Green to be anything other than Earnest. So between me shrugging and managing to spit out a few nervous words, and Mum actually filling in some gaps, I was the first Secondary Student Entrant to the Whitireia Community Polytechnic Writing Course, at the time the ONLY writing course in the country.
HOORAH!!! WHOOP WHOOP!!!
Anyway,
THE POINT:
…And it was THERE that I was told, pretty much within the first week and probably on the first day, that

“One could not be a good writer if One did not Read”.
Now, the REASON they told us this was partly because A. it’s true, and B. because 10% of the total course marks were based on us having to read two books a month and write reviews on them.
But, Oh… Alas… I was Young, Dumb, and Full Of… Arrogance, and I decided, right then and there, that I was going to be a good writer WITHOUT reading! I’d show them ALL, I’D PROVE THEM ALL WRONG, FUCK THE ESTABLISHMENT, AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
…..
Stupid.
Little.
Scorpion.
While I Aced every single one of those course units – short stories, feature writing, poetry, writing for children, bla bla – I pretty much forfeited 10% of my marks by not reading a single book all year.
Towards the end of the year, the course director told me I had to hand SOMETHING in for my book reviews, so I made them up! I made up two books and wrote reviews about them.
They were BLATANT fabrications, and my course director knew it… but she was never the sort of director to be angry about anything, and pretty much laughed at my creative handling of the situation.
Book Reading, however, was the one course unit I Failed with flying colours.
That was pretty much the end of my avid reading career.
These days, I’m pushing a book a Year. At the Most.
Ugh. If only I’d listened.
HOWEVER! I still do enjoy reading, I just have trouble finding good books! I certainly know what Bad books are, and man there’s a lot of bad books out there. If I’m not liking it in the first two pages,
It’s Over.
Hence, I need your help.
Help Me to Help The Avid Reader Inside Me.
Don’t let me down kiddies.

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41,834:
The amount of words I’ve written for this blog so far. How bout that!
A pat on my humped back for me.
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CONFEDERATE FLAG, BEGONE!:
I walked past work this morning and realised somebody must have FINALLY cracked the Boss about the Confederate flag outside because… TA DAAAAAA!!! IT’S GONE!!!
HOORAH!!! It only took just over a year but thank god for that.
And here I was about to send anonymous e-mails to the Boss with links to informative pages hoping that maybe the INTERNET might open his eyes a bit, but… in reality? The Boss probably thinks the Internet is a lesser version of his brain and couldn’t possibly know anything more than himself…
In it’s place is… cough… an Australian flag,

but…
At least it’s not a Swastika…

And hey, Summah Bayee ees een Ostraaaaleeah!

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THE U.K. ELECTIONS: Are sounding FUCKED UP right about now!
What’s with that?!?!?!
Can you say “REEKS OF THE BUSH ADMINISTRATION???”
“Yeah, we know you guys voted for this, but we’re gonna give you this other thing anyway…”
…
‘And I think to myself
What a wonderful world’…
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WHAT TO DO WITH DEAD PEOPLE’S NUMBERS ON MY PHONE:
I’ll never need them again, but I can’t quite bring myself to delete them…
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BEST STORY FROM MY LITTLE BROTHER EVER:
This story is over a year old now, but I have been chuckling to myself about it recently, so, I thought I’d share.
*
My little brother, 18 at the time, goes out on the town, Wellington, with his mate. They go to a strip club for a while, then later on at a nightclub they see one of the strippers there.
They get talking to her then offer her a sesh, so they go for a walk.
Along the way, my brother says to her
(And the award for Best Line Ever goes to…)
“Keen for some Dick?”
Keen For Some Dick… The most excellent words ever spoken.
As it turns out, she was, and they ended up having a threesome in the bushes outside Te Papa…
Now THAT’S some cultural learning for ya, HAHAHAHAHA.
Go the bro.
And here I thought I was the only deviant in the family…
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28.
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NEW DOCTOR WHO:

At first I wasn’t too sure about this new, eleventh Matt Smith Doctor. That first episode he just seemed like he was doing an impression of David Tennant’s Ten. And who wants to see that? Yawn.
However, this second episode sees him settling into the role a lot more and that combined with a great plot pretty much dials in a home run! Awesome! Loving it. What’s with the mysterious crack, OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH.
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GREEN PORNO:

Isabella Rossellini’s short films on… Animal Sex. Literally called ‘Green Porno’. Youtube them.
Ho. Ly. Shit.
Award Winning Stuff, Apparently!!! Weird and Funny As Fuck.
Watch Them.

27.

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SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE: Wow… Apart from a few, RARE gems… this show is really really BAD. What the fuck??? Like… TERRIBLE. Embarrassingly bad. Like… REALLY FUCKIN BAD. I can’t actually believe how bad it is. It’s disgusting that there are people in the world being paid tens of thousands of dollars to write complete and utter shit.
… I wish I was one of those people…
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MY DRINK DRIVING WHANAU:It’s crazy that in 2010 and after all we know, people still get behind a wheel drunk. I’m unlucky enough to have a drink driving whanau. Not unlucky to have them FOR whanau, just unlucky that they happen to be the Luckiest whanau on the Planet when it comes to drink driving.
They – luckily for them, unluckily for the big picture – VERY RARELY get pulled over for it, which enables the illusion they can get away with it.
Most of them don’t even think twice about it – it’s just what they’ve always done and will probably always do. It doesn’t help at all that the ones who are inclined to drink drive are also Bad Drunks who can’t handle their piss yet drink like fish, AND have young children in tow.
Drive to the party, get absolutely rotten, then fall in the car and somehow drive home even though they can barely walk or hold their eyes open isn’t an accident – it’s A PLAN.
It’s the routine.
It’s the NORM.
I hate to say it, but it actually would take something really big, awful and life-changing like a fatal accident for some of them to change their ways. I would never wish it on anyone, but it’s unfortunate that that’s what it would take for some of them.
…It Fucks me Right Off.
What Fucks me off the most about it all, is the Kids that get dragged along for the ride, especially the babies…
Last Saturday night, because I’d been working all evening and got to the party later, I found myself offering to drive because my blitzed cousin was about to roll in the car with her kids and I’d only had two beers so I thought I better. After dealing with having to find the keys to move two cars that were parked thoughtlessly in front of others so I could finally drive one lot home, I got back to find another cousin in the freezing cold with her two screaming babies about to blindly roll her van home, and yet another cousin having a tantrum because I had his keys from moving his car and I’d been gone for all of three minutes... After spending ten minutes getting the babies into their seats and getting ready to go, hello, no keys.
“Where are your keys cuz?”
Shrugs.
Go back inside to party to find the keys, only to discover a raging argument going on inside between more whanau, who are then trying to ask me to sort their shit out.
“Actually, I’m just dealing with your sister and her two screaming babies at the moment so deal with your own shit.”
Five minutes looking for keys later, and no results. So I have to go outside and do what I’d been telling her to do all along – get the two screaming babies and the now crying drunk mother into the other car so I can get them home. Finally, we’re all in the car and hello, "where’s my daughter?"
ARE YOU FUCKIN KIDDING ME?
SO, go back into the party to get sleeping daughter on the couch, drag her through the housefight, into the freezing cold, and into the car with her drunk mother and two screaming brothers.
Now, only a few people in the world really KNOW how hard it is to try and organise ANYTHING, let alone a pack of drunks and moving cars and kids, while there is a screaming baby in your ears. The noise of a really tired, inconsolable, shrieking baby really stunts your thought process, kills your ears, and shreds your heart up which makes you want to go faster but you can’t think very well… It’s an awful, STRESSFUL place to be. And to have other drunks around you who are completely selfish and can’t even start to LOOK at the bigger picture while asking you to do shit for them like Roll a cigarette, or do this or get that for me… Fuck I just wanna slap my cousins sometimes, and in fact, I’m thinking I might have to pull some rank on their asses and dish it out to them as their older cousin.
But if I’m to spread out the bigger picture even further, it’s not just my cousins. They’re just doing what all my aunties and uncles do too. They’re just doing what they were brought up to do. And here I come back to the kids again.
I DON’T WANT MY NEICES AND NEPHEWS AND YOUNGER COUSINS TO PERPETUATE THIS BULLSHIT CYCLE!!!!!
I don’t want the fact that my whanau is one of the biggest drink driving families in the region to REMAIN a fact, KEEP ON BEING a fact well into the future. A sick tradition carried on through generations.
Fuck that shit.
It’s BULLSHIT and WE ALL KNOW IT.
There is No Reason for it anymore.
As adults and parents, they have to know that what they are doing isn’t productive, it isn’t positive, it’s just bad form all round, and that’s putting it lightly.
There is NO REASON that a plan for travel, a plan for staying the night, A PLAN AT ALL (!!!) can’t be put in place BEFORE you’re actually so shit faced you don’t know what you’re doing…
A lot of things make the Mad Scorpion Mad, but THIS… My beautiful baby cousins being dragged along for a drunken night time ride while their parents remain totally and blissfully oblivious???
THAT MAKES ME MAD.
Fuckin.

Selfish.

Cunts.

…I may even have to tell them that next time I see them. Fuck it. What’s the worst that can happen? They ignore me and carry on doing what they’re doing??? Oh no, how will I cope…
Perhaps I should just start calling the Cops on their ass.
“Gee, how did I end up in the cells cuz, I can’t remember!!!”
“Mm, yeah, neither…”
…
.

MY NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR:

I live in a house that is split into two flats. In the other flat lives an older guy - like, mid 40's - named Warren. Or Wazza, as I like to affectionately call him behind his back.

I had probably my first decent conversation with him EVER this morning. We ran into each other at the bakery. Last night as I got home from work he was talking to the cops on his doorstep, so this morning I asked him what was going on.

Turns out he was chased with a knife by a young guy as he got off the train from Masterton.

...IN CARTERTON?!?!?!?!

What's the world coming to when knives are being pulled on people at the Carterton fucking Railway Station... That's BULLSHIT.

Warren is kinda like... the personification of where I might be in fifteen years time. A lone, an easy target with mental and health problems who lives alone... gulp.

He's actually harmless, a nice guy even, but this morning he was lamenting his life somewhat. He is frustrated that no matter what he does with his life, trouble always seems to find him and whenever he tries to right his life it all turns to shit, and he is basically about ready to give up on life.

...I resisted the urge to bleat on about Positive Visualisation, and if you picture it happening it more often than not does happen, and bad thoughts attract bad happenings and people, and go towards the light and bla bla...

I didn't know how to say it without sounding like a patronising Hippy.

I believe him too. I KNOW he's not a trouble Seeker. The stories he was telling me about how he ended up in the position he's in - with a fucked back because he got a beating from the Cops and sub-standard after-care - lead me to believe that he really IS a good guy finding it extremely difficult to do the right thing.

When he told me that he was recently put ON the Invalids Benefit - much to his chagrin I might add (one of his pet hates is having too much money) - we had a good ol laugh about Irony and the bullshit Health System and how Doctors are mostly arseholes bla bla.

It seems almost like fate that we have been drawn together like this...

Perhaps I need to be conversing with my neighbour more often.

I think we might have a bit to learn from each other.

...or not. Never know 'til I find out.

.

HOLE:

Courtney Love's at it again!

I'm not sure wether to be joyous or... cautious.

Instead of "Oh YEAH!", I'm going "...Aaaaaaaaw yeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaah?"

I wish I was excited, buuuuuuuuuuuut...

Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

We'll see.

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