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Yule Sukmeov



By now, you are all probably aware of an invention called the Internet. Let’s face it, it’s the US Military’s greatest gift to humanity. Realising that its troops were going to need access to hardcore pornographic material in between saving the world, they commissioned a bunch of scientific technicians (a fancy word for ‘nerds’) to develop this amazing worldwide network. Now, everyone from Zurich to Zagreb could watch a man and a woman, a woman and a woman, a man and a man, a woman and several men, a woman and a moose etc, fuck in a multitude of positions from the relative comfort of their living rooms. It was a day of relief (in more ways than one) for the loser, as the need to leave home for wank mags and Vaseline™ became a thing of the past. Or at least this was the dream – unfortunately, it wasn’t long before a bunch of fuckers (concerned parents or the Christian far right or something) got wind of the situation. With their whingey appeals, closed minds, and power of lobby, they somehow convinced another bunch of fuckers (the government) that some kinds of porn are badder than others, and should be banned in this country. Censorship was the name of the game, and it wasn’t long before an astonished populace found that they could no longer masturbate to pictures of cows giving birth. If they did, they would be thrown in the slammer and would have to hang out with other perverts Pete Townshend and Pee Wee Herman.
“What the fuck has this got to do with us?” you may well be asking by now. Well, cast your mind back a few weeks to my amazing column about Michael Jackson that I know you all read and enjoyed. You know, the one with all the little “censored” stamps over the bits that said stuff about MJ loving little children. This is a direct result of the actions undertaken by the above-mentioned fuckers that won’t let you watch porno with animals in it. It would seem that these cunts, not content with just ignoring the shit that I churn out every fortnight and turning the page, might complain and bitch to my editor if they see something that makes them cry and piss their pants like a pathetic baby. Their argument is that this kind of humour is NOT funny; it is immature and smutty, and belongs in the toilet with all the other crap. My response to these allegations is to point out that all of the offensive juvenile jokes that I may have made about Jackson are not actually jokes at all – I was merely reporting the alleged facts. It’s just political correctness gone crazy and we are all affected.
One only has to look to cinema to see the stranglehold theses sooky little fuckwits have on our ability to watch, see, hear and read what we want. Not content with spoiling everyone’s viewing pleasure at the Incredible Film Festival by throwing a child-like tantrum and having all the good movies banned, their influence has even fucked with the nerdy masterpiece of New Zealand’s most famous hobo, Peter Jackson. The posters for Return of the King promised great romance – Sam staring lovingly into the eyes of his lover Frodo. I was excited by the idea of homosexual love finally making it into mainstream cinema, and went along to see it. Four hours later, I left the multiplex feeling cheated. Some conservative dickhead from the censorship board had obviously cut the fucker out of the film because some old lady from the Hawkes Bay might see it and cry. This does not only amount to a financial blow to PJ at the box office (the poor man can’t even afford shoes), but it’s also a prime example of what a fucking cunt censorship can be.
To finish up today, I would like to acknowledge the fact that the only people who could be fucked reading this diatribe to the end are the same retards who like to go out of their way to find stuff to complain about so they can feel like big shots. I look forward to ignoring your complaints.