i don't even like christmas...

...and have fallen victim to the associated hysteria.

even as a non-worshipper of false deities and mass consumerism my life has been additionally plagued by the panic to finish everything prior. somehow it seems much worse this year than previously. perhaps it's just perception.

but the cars which fill the roads with only one person in them have multiplied since december fell like an overweight kamikaze moon and now oprah is in sydney. i don't even watch oprah. but the tourism board has whored out australia like a penal colony rent-boy to lick at the glorious cunt of american daytime television. and oh how we lick so greedily, stuffing our replicant digitized faces deep into the folds of that which we hope to emulate.

what is that line in chuck palahniuk's fight club? "we've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd be millionaires, and movie gods and rock stars. but we won't. and we're slowly learning that fact. and we're very, very pissed off."

oprah is the ultimate sales woman, another napolean hill if you like but with more feelgood factor. if fame and fortune are on your agenda like we're all apparently supposed to aspire towards, then the best way to get there is to talk about it. write a book, run a seminar, have a talk show. think and you will grow.

i just choose not to in that particular direction. it's not that i don't like pussy julia gillard, but there's already three at the corner shop and we're happy sucking on our stocking'd coal this xmas eve.