Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Merry Chovmas!

YOU go sit on his lap and ask him for a pony.....

Monday, December 22, 2008

Unlovable Losers...Part I

I'll dig a little hole here and BURY some of my SPARE F*CKING CASH because I have run out of places to bury it in my BACKYARD. And all my POCKETS are FULL. Hey, I wonder if this will count as a F*CKING GOAL??

This blog post is dedicated to the memory of John Aloisi, former Socceroo and Sydney FC striker (the guy everyone remembers for slotting home the penalty that beat Uaregay and put Australia in the 2006 World Cup), who died quietly in his home about 6 months ago.

**technical difficulties...**

I've been informed by lightning-quick blog-fans that Aloisi is in fact alive, and is currently pursuing a post-football career in F*CKING THIEVERY and FRAUD, and has been for several months.

Apparently this THIEF has been STEALING MONEY on a weekly basis from Sydney FC, the total of which will top the $1 MILLION mark by season's end.

How could this happen??! I thought F*CKING THIEVING BUSHRANGERS were EXTINCT!?

I'll step you through it.

Mr Aloisi used to play in Europe, mostly Spain. He even played for Osasuna, which is where they do the "Running of the Bulls" and evidently where Aloisi perfected the art of "el caca del toro". Eventually they grew tired of using him as the honorary "gored celebrity" to kick off the Run and he found himself without a contract. (The town is inviting Ricky Martin next year...)

Sydney FC, on the lookout for a marketable player, made him several offers to entice him to return to Oz and play for them. And I mean "marketable" in the sense that every halfwit knows him from that Socceroo penalty footage. And he knows how to sell anti-dandruff shampoo, I'll give him that.

Mr Aloisi, in a breathtakingly staggering over-estimation of his own ability, one which would even put The Chov to shame, decided to play hardball, wanting way more money than Sydney FC could pay. Mr Aloisi figured he could play hardball because of the thousands of clubs world-wide who were sure to step in at some point and throw cash at him - some might even want him to play football, others might just want sexual favours - either way, he would be able to swap post-masturbatory tissues for DOLLAR BILLS soon enough.

Brilliantly, nobody offered him so much as a dirty sanchez.

So Mr Aloisi was forced to start whoring himself to clubs back in Australia, desperate for some sort of pay-day. But Sydney FC had moved on. Eventually he duped Central Coast into paying him, but not at the level to which he was accustomed. (Well f*ck the poor precious princess if there aren't any f*cking Tapas bars in Gosford).

He had a fair to middling season there.

Cue: Sydney FC come in again at season's end and throw wild amounts of money at Mr Aloisi to entice him south of the Harbour Bridge.

This is one of the most galactically and unfathomably stupid pieces of business ever.

This is like me buying a f*cking 35-year old rusted out bomb of a car, built in f*cking Czechoslovakia pre-revolution, driving it by your house every morning belching smoke and backfiring (alternatively push-starting it or having it pulled by f*cking mules) and spending every weekend under the bonnet trying to "fix" things - then when I advertise it in the paper for $50 or a case of Crownies (ONO), you come in and offer me 80 hundred trillion dollars for it.

Central Coast laughed.

Sydney FC paid up - over a million big ones. And Mr Aloisi is now the highest paid player in the A-League.

Dammit. Missed again. From THREE F*CKING INCHES AWAY. And the goalie is already in the showers, lubing up. I bet The Chov is swearing at his TV somewhere. He would have scored that one with his LIMP COCK. Oh well, never mind, I'm still going to light my post-match cigar with a few HUNDRED DOLLAR F*CKING BILLS and blow the smoke in Mark Bridge's FACE.

And in return Mr Aloisi has scored....wait for it.....TWO f*cking goals all season.

And ONE of THOSE was a f*cking penalty.

A RE-TAKEN penalty, after he f*cking MISSED the first attempt, but the referee (obviously related) ordered a re-take.

The other was a tap-in The Chov would have scored with his left nut. No, really, I would have seen it coming, downed my dacks, squatted and deftly diverted the ball in with "Lefty" as he prefers to be called. That's how F*CKING EASY IT WAS.

So that works out, so far, (calculator, let's see....million...divide by 2...carry the 7...) at about $500,000 PER F*CKING GOAL. And Sydney are 6th in an 8-team league.

Great work Sydney FC. Great work, "supercoach" John Kosmina.

But let the magic of video fill the story out...pay close attention at 0:55 and 1:21 during the following JOHN ALOISI INSTRUCTIONAL SERIES: VOLUME 1 - A MILLION DOLLAR MASTERCLASS of FINISHING:

Priceless. This is what you get for a million bucks in these days of global financial crisis, eh?


The decent thing to do would be for Mr Aloisi to admit to F*CKING BROAD DAYLIGHT THIEVERY and donate the money he gets (I won't f*cking say EARNS) to charity. Specifically, the 2008 Chovmas Tree Charity, where I take cash from other people and spend it on things to make myself happy - a worthy cause now in it's 15th year.

But this F*CKING MODERN DAY ROBBING HOOD hoovers up the f*cking cash and doesn't even have the courtesy to offer Sydney FC fans from the Cove even so much as quick hand-relief at the end of the match.

Now THAT'S disgraceful.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Introducing...The Golden Trio!!!

The Chov is a member of a secret society called "The Golden Trio" and whilst you may not have previously known this, you can peruse some of their wise meanderings over at:


Consider this a shameless plug for that blog, and at the same time a brief introduction of the heroes of the day, the geniuses behind the curtain, the esteemed authors of this crazy-genius blog, The Golden Trio Pontification Sanctum...

Yes, the Golden Trio themselves.

King Cracka
This future leader of the world was born defending the Alamo in 1836 but shot to prominence when, during Year 8 lab work, he discovered the presence of Crackesium IV, which, in turn, led scholars to develop the first, primitive, forms of pornography - an initiative which has gone on to save thousands of lives around the world.

Inspired after listening to a world-record 1,366,211 straight hours of country music at his home in Soda Springs, Idaho, Crack eventually embarked upon countless quixotic attempts to synthesise the world's first D-ribitol-5-phosphate cytidylyltransferase. This chemical is used for flavour in many man-made compounds like:

* breast-milk;
* semen;
* lemon-lime cordial, and
* holy water.

After writing the Third Book of Enoch in 1972, Cracka became the first man to kayak every river and tributary in Romania, whose capital is Rome, making him a national hero. To this day, Crack-Day is a national holiday in all parts of the country and is marked by a jazz and blues festival and eating smoked pork without using one's hands.

In 1809 he entered the Académie des Beaux-Arts, Paris, and in 1815 visited Italy and Sicily, where he suggested improvements to pasta-making traditions in existence at the time, a controversial decision which almost saw him excommunicated from the Church of Scientology, which he founded in about 1100 BC.

In 1617 he went to Nubia, and while there he made incredibly detailed sketches, drawings and measurements of all the genitalia of the more important members of that country.

After retiring in 2002, he made one last comeback to the ring to beat Muhammad Ali with a KO in the 3rd round.

Today the Mayor of Mac Fields (wrestling moniker: The Legend of the Bedroom) can often be found in his rose-garden or at his keyboard, where he splits time between designing a fully functional inter-galactic cannon (which will one day be used to propel his political enemies into outer-space); writing short, forgettable (but successful) pop songs for the likes of Clive Griffin, Pokemon and the Australian Cricket Team, and posting to this blog when the mood takes him.

Maca was a 19th century Major League Baseball player who pitched for three different teams in his five season career that lasted from 1884 to 1888, and he finally arrived on Earth in 1980 when his spaceship crashed here whilst on route to invade the Iain Tomlin School of Music and slaughter all the inhabitants thereof. Who had displeased him in some way, which has not yet been agreed on by scientists.

In 1940 he attempted to form a syndicated chain of franchise brothels called "McDonald's", which he hoped would serve a footlong hotdog called the "Big Mick", but the sour cream topping proved a disaster with customers and he eventually sold the name to Ray Kroc in 1954 for $3 and a washed-up greyhound. He shot and killed the greyhound in 2003, during an argument over a game of bocce, apparently unaware that it would some day grow up to become Mickey Mouse and earn millions upon millions of dollars.

In his spare time he trained to become an ambulance driver, though the Australo-Tasmanio War of 1245 ended before he ever saw action. Between the end of the war and the early 1950s he tried his hand at a number of trades including paper-cup salesman, stunt-penis, and working at a Qatari radio station as a financial analyst. A failed sex-change operation in the spring of 2008 didn't deter Maca from being voted Gay Porn's Man of the Century at a glittering awards ceremony that year, the cost of which was estimated at some $6 billion US and led to a brief outbreak of cholera.

A short and incomplete list of some women that Maca has ruined for other men:
* Miley Cyrus
* Condoleeza Rice
* Joan Kirner
* Miley Cyrus
* Miley Cyrus
* Senator Penny Wong
* Miley Cyrus
* Todd Carney
* Miley Cyrus

Not much was heard from Maca after he wrote, produced and starred in that great Broadway play "Livin' in Sorgues and Lovin' It", although after his death the theme-song (a duet with Celine Dion) was covered by Human Nature and led to renewed interest in his back-catalogue, particularly in Portugal where his song "Facial Piercing Can Suck A Fart Out Of My Ar$e" was made the national anthem in 1960.

The Chov
The Chov first garnered attention when he invented the United Nations in 1066 AD. Seeing as nothing else of any interest or consequence happened that year, he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Chemistry for his daring work.

Some other tops things that The Chov has invented include:
* pancakes
* gravity
* The Roman Empire
* the true value of Pi
* the concept of packing hundreds of crazy clowns into tiny cars.

Never one to rest on his laurels, The Chov also founded the city-state of Atlantis during one of his humanitarian trips to Africasia, where the original Atlantis was located. Monuments to his brilliantosity could probably still be seen there today, but the last place The Chov remembers leaving Atlantis was in his jeans pocket before he threw the denims in the wash basket.

After starting, and winning, WWII, The Chov built the Amazon River with his bare hands in 1832. During construction work, which caused the death of some 1,000,000 innocent people, he met his future bride, Warrior Queen Samazon on the set of now infamous porn film "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang". Although he was nominated for 17 Academy Awards for his own performance, the film shocked critics and was eventually banned in 113 countries.

Despite only making a handful of appearances during the 1850 English cricket season, he topped the goal-scoring charts and lived in a palace in Kiev for 14 weeks to win a bet.

He was then forced to retire from politics in disgrace after childhood friend Zimbu the African Elephant exposed endemic corruption during the extremely suspicious local council election results of 1990 in Panagarh, a small town in India, located in the Kanksa police station of the Durgapur subdivision in the Bardhaman District of West Bengal.
The Chov is now a crack-commando in the secretive Polish Ninja Commando Squad and writes hard-core porn scripts for midgets.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Danger: It's All Relative

"Tastes like chicken!"

According to ananova this (probably barely literate) daredevil from a nondescript village somewhere in China called Wangzhuang (translation: The People's Superior Bird's Nest Stadium Apartments) reckons he has "...been eating live snakes for 10 years."

Far out.


"He started by eating one to win a bet with friends..."

Unfortunately the bet has long since been paid out when his neighbour did, as promised, present him with approximately 11,000 rolls of toilet paper he had been hoarding beneath his house. Despite this, crazy snake eating man just decided to continue because he likes the taste of F*CKING DEATH ADDER.

"From then on I became addicted to eating live snakes," he said. His mother must be proud.

Interestingly he likes to wash down a COBRA F*CKEN SANDWICH with, of course, beer. (What else?)

Perhaps this is so the snake, which let's not forget is still ALIVE during the process, gets trolleyed on booze down in his gut and doesn't BITE THE LIVING F*CK out of his upper intestine. And f*cking Mylanta is NOT going to fix that, thanks very much.

"It's a bit smelly, but they're very delicious," he exclaimed - although watching villagers said the sight gave them goosebumps and two vomited at the scene. (And were probably arrested for 'unauthorised digestive expulsion' and beaten badly). One strange fellow hovering around at the back, though, admitted to being "strangely aroused" during the performance.

Apparently Martha Stewart chimed in with a tip to beat the "smell" whilst eating live snakes:


Wen (that's his name) says his son is now following his lead and has eaten eight live snakes this year. Dinner time must be a real f*cken hoot in this house. Wen Junior is the only kid in his school that NOBODY WANTS TO SWAP LUNCHES WITH. And THIS is in a country that enjoys eating the ERECT PENISES of TIGERS.

But Wang Tianming, a doctor specialising in digestion at a local hospital, said Wen could suffer nerve problems and risked infection from parasites.

This is why Wang is a digestion doctor not a f*cken wildlife expert, because if he thinks getting a bit nervous and needing a smoke to calm down and maybe getting a few ticks or worms is the WORST outcome in this situation he WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION to the part where this man said he was EATING LIVE F*CKING SNAKES for crying out loud.

But you know what, here's a bigger warning for Crazy Wen, and anybody else out there who wants to chow down on "snakes".

HERE is another guy who filled his throat with live specimens of hot, thick, 'snake' for 30 odd years....and we all know how THAT turned out....

"POSITIVE: Sometimes it's not the best thing you can be."

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Climate Change = Water Views For Everybody!

Redundant jobs in the post-climate-change future: changing faulty tap-washers.

I would like to take a few special moments to personally tea-bag, with my massive hairy sack, every nimrod from Senator Bob Brown on down who frots themselves into a hissy-frenzy over "climate-change".

See, NOW you understand that the Prime Minister, Saint KRudd, is only the Patron Saint of Working Families and doesn't really actually give an increasing-temperature f*ck about you and the raging 800-degree inferno that will be the summer of 2009. Which is going to make the coin-toss in the Boxing Day test even more crucial, as that pitch is going to be hotter than George Foreman's f*cken steak-griddle.

Now I don't like the term "climate-change denier". I don't even like "climate-change skeptic".

I prefer "climate-change PAGAN", or even "climate-change LAUGHER".

So you would think that, upon reading Saint KRudd's laughable little emissions target announcement I would be welcoming him into the ranks of People Who Don't F*cken Believe Everything A F*cken Failed American Vice-President Says About $hit He Doesn't Even F*cking Know About.

But, no, f*ck Saint KRudd, the f*cken little sly conniving f*ck.

Because, lacking The Chov's decisiveness, the little turd-sniffer tries an each way bet.

He's like a hooker who fell asleep on her shift and woke up with 5 minutes to go to discover a massive, impatient lineup of erections and is frantically trying to blow every one of them before she gets pimp-slapped for not bringing in enough cash-money.

The targets are well below what all the climate-change hysterics wanted, meaning we shall all perish in either an instantaneous f*cking ice-age or by turning into the f*cking surface of the sun (whichever one the climate-changers think applies at the time) - and it's all because the f*cken plants won't eat all the f*cken carbon because we didn't turn off our fridges or something.

But that's KRudd's point - it isn't much but at least he's done 'something'. And all the self-frotters can cry me a f*cken river now, dumbwanks.

Of course industry cries and moans, but that's for show. Any taxes they will pay for exceeding industry targets will get passed on to consumers, meaning everyone using electricity gets hosed.

So at this rate a few ferals from Byron Bay would be the only ones happy, only they can't f*cken read the newspaper because they rolled their last "happy-plants" up in it and smoked it.

So now all the same people whinging about climate-change can NOW whinge that their power bills are through the f*cken roof and how about KRudd do something about THAT because petrol is expensive, caviar is expensive and the 5 bedroom beachfront house I insist on living in is also expensive and I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO F*CKING WELL PAY FOR IT ALL DO I because I am a WORKING FAMILY, ME!

Never fear, KRudd has an answer.

He's going to 'subsidise' a cross-section of morons across society for the increased cost of power, which just happens to be f*cking well pretty much essential to modern life.

Bottom line: all the nimrods can keep on f*cking well driving their f*cking four-wheel drives to drop the kids off at school, leaving on all the f*cking lights, burning their f*cken plasma screen TVs 24-7 and generally seeing how many different new-gen gaming consoles they can have going at one time before the power-grid $hits itself.


So if you ARE a f*cken climate-change pants-wetter, how exactly does this help?

Aren't we SUPPOSED to feel the pain, so that we f*cking well TURN OFF THE LIGHTS EVERY NOW AND THEN? (Because, as I understand it, polar bears die when you leave the lights on because it reflects off the hole in the ozone and burns their retinas and then their retinas get hot and the mosquito-hordes will come further south because of the cold or the heat I can't remember which and eat the retinas of the polar bears, which can only happen when there are more cyclones and there will be more cyclones because of the global warming see innit and so the polar bears well they die see because they can't read because their retinas are burned and so they can't read the signs that say "no swimming" and so they go swimming because all the icebergs are now melted into swimming pools and the polar bears get bored and stop swimming because they're sick of swimming and they can't have sex with seals so they die. Or something. And all the dead polar bears make it hotter, or colder, or something, because they are white and all the whiteyness of the bears reflects the sun's rays, so without them we all get hit with solar rays and we'll all turn into the Fantastic Four or something, and then die. See?)


KRudd has actually achieved bureaucratic-idiot-nirvana - he's formalised a proposal that actually has a built in mechanism to defeat itself. Reduce emissions by introducing an incentive for people not to reduce emissions!

And where's the punctuation-challenged Treasurer during all this?

Busy sending out Christmas cards that read "Seasons Greeting's".


That "Education Revolution" is a bit late for some people, I guess...

The Chov - Smarter Than Everybody Who Invested With Bernard Madoff

"With these bailouts, I can't afford NOT to wipe my a$$ with these things!": Ed Liddy, CEO of AIG

You want The Chov's financial advice for the world?

When you smell bull$hit, there's probably bull$hit lying around somewhere in the immediate vicinity.

"Guaranteed returns" are only "guaranteed" for the guy who is hoovering up your cash you morons.

What? You think there are "experts" in the high-stakes, glitzy world of Wall Street? That they somehow REALLY DO have these little inside secrets of investing and business that nobody else knows and that will make YOU millions?

Think of this, dip$hits.

If YOU had a secret way of making millions and millions of dollars in a simple scheme, WOULD YOU F*CKING SHARE IT WITH COMPLETE STRANGERS????

If you answered "yes, of course, Chov, because I am a f*cking moron and would love to pi$$ my money up the f*cking urinal wall" then please, please, PLEASE get in touch with me as soon as possible as I have an investment opportunity for you that is fool-proof, 100% genuine and guaranteed to make money.

For me.

Here's a Chov rundown of the "brains" of the financial world, and the f*cking DUMB decisions they make, sometimes with YOUR money.

* Microsoft, you may have heard of them, tried to buy Yahoo this year. You probably haven't heard of Yahoo because NOBODY F*CKING WELL VISITS THE SITE. Why Microsoft wanted it is anyone's f*cking guess. My own personal guess is that CEO Steve Ballmer landed on it in a game of I.T Monopoly he was playing with Bill Gates and wanted to buy it because Gates already owned every-f*cking-thing else on the board.

Anyway, some nimrod at Yahoo (err...actually the CEO Jerry Yang now that I actually look it up....) whined that the price-per-share offer was too low (even though it was nearly two-thirds ABOVE market price) and decided he would play 'hardball'.

Fast-forward: Microsoft issues a statement to say "suck our balls", Yahoo stock DROPS by nearly two-thirds and Yahoo CEO Jerry Yang gets f*cked in the a$$ by a gorilla at the end-of-year company party. The new CEO tarts up with new lipstick and offers to suck Microsoft-dck, only for Microsoft to upgrade their offer to "suck our balls AND get a free turkey slap."

* If you've ever lost money, say by leaving your wallet on a train, and been really angry at yourself, stop your f*cking crying because Joseph Lewis is the IMPERIAL OVERLORD of losing money and you are not fit to kiss his crack.

Joseph Lewis is a pooncey pommy idiot who thought he was 'famous' for being a smart investor - much smarter than you or me, halfwits. That's why HE, not you or I, bought up a big stake in some pi$$ant little investment bank called, oh, BEAR STEARNS.

When it became obvious that BEAR STEARNS was, in fact, f*cking around with pretendy dollars bought off snakeoil sub-prime mortgage peddlers, their stock dropped, in a BIG WAY.

Now you or I would have thought, f*ck this for a lark, and got out while the gettin' was still ordinary.

But that's why we're together here on this insignificant blog, and Mr Lewis is a MIGHTY INVESTOR with amazing INSIDE KNOWLEDGE that you or I could NEVER HOPE TO EMULATE.

Mr Lewis doubled up, buying EVEN MORE STOCK IN A F*CKING LOSER. See, this is the sort of decision only an experienced and knowledgable investor can make and truly understand - because to The Chov, at least, it appears to be the move of a F*CKING IDIOT SUFFERING FROM BRAIN MELTING SYPHILIS.

BEAR STEARNS then COLLAPSED, and Lewis was left holding eleventy-trillion WORTHLESS SHARES, and also his flaccid penis, not knowing which one to hock for some cash to buy a coffee.

Eventually JP Morgan bought the carcass of BEAR STEARNS for $hits and giggles presumably. And for $2 a share. After Lewis had paid over $100 a share.

His total loss? Over ONE BILLION. So now you know where all that interest you pay on your home loan goes.

* You know what a sub-prime mortgage is by now. It's where mortgage lenders lend f*cking great wads of cash to anybody who can scribble a few barely legible chicken-scratches onto an application. And then (because they know the dip$hits are going to default on the repayments) they quickly package them up and sell them to f*ckwads in suits on Wall Street before anybody gets wise.

Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae were two US financial institutions holding out like virgins on prom night. Only the liquor and the spiffs finally wore them down and they agreed to give their prom-date a quick reacharound and dip into the wild and crazy sub-prime mortgage scene.

Five minutes later and they are in front of the camera at a mansion in LA doing a 500-man f*ck (straight to DVD release) and taking every shot to the face. Only problem is, they got in so late that all they had was BAD DEBTS.

And so now they ought to be a washed-out former porn star doing tricks in a back-alley and immediately throwing the money into a heroin fix. But they ain't.

Because the US Gummint threw open the coffers of TAXPAYERS MONEY.


THAT will help keep the kids of the CEO in private schools in Manhattan and pay for the upkeep on that 42 foot yacht in the Caymans.

But you know what's dumber than investing in the paper-value of sub-prime mortgages?


Ladies and gentlemen, I give you AIG.

Cue stock-price drop from $70 to just $1.25 and about $13 billion HOSED in UNDER SIX MONTHS. Motley Crue didn't spend that much on coke and hookers in their WHOLE F*CKEN CAREER.

* Think it was only stupid AMERICAN banks that did this sort of crazy $hit? Believe KRudd when he says that Australian banks wouldn't have been so STUPID?

THIS MORNING, the Commonwealth Bank decided to 'fess up that its exposure to BAD DEBTS was actually DOUBLE what it had previously lied. err..."advised". Of yes, they are ELBOW DEEP in this FINANCIAL FISTING ORGY.

* What do you do if you're running a big auto-manufacturing company in a time when every cry-baby is whining about climate change and oil prices are at all-time highs?

You f*cking well tick off on whole new lines of giant petrol-guzzling TANKS, just like the "Big 3" did in the States.

And then nobody buys them, and then a little bit later nobody CAN buy them because loans have dried up and people are losing their jobs and homes and can't buy a new car.

So THEN what do you do?

Blame f*cken union labour and head off to the US Gummint for a $40 BILLION PAYOUT, just like your buddies on Wall Street got.

Only so far, the Gummint has told them to F*CK OFF.

* Best of all are the "ratings agencies" who supposedly run the rule over the financial wheelings and dealings of people like Bernie Madoff and investment banks and the like.

Now we all know that all they do is surf internet porn all day, fill out a half-dozen reports in the last five minutes of the day before knocking off, and attribute a random rating somewhere between "AAAAAA" which means "f*cken A!" and "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" which means "light me a cigarette I just came, p.s. here is all my money".

* And finally, 'investment managers', sometimes called 'hedge funds', which is Latin for "f*cking over stupid rich people and fleecing them of their money".

Hedge funds promise returns in excess of what anyone else can get because ONLY YOUR HEDGE FUND MANAGER knows the special opportunities that exist out there. Nobody else, not even God. And for a small fee he will take advantage of those special opportunities only open to members of his fund.

Only they are ALL F*CKING LYING as they have about as much idea of what the stock market is going to do as a day-old dog turd.

So when the "crisis" hits and stock prices go up and down faster than Paris Hilton's head beneath the table, these nimrods f*ck around with other people's money making crazy guesses that mostly turn out WRONG.

And when you realise this and try to get your money out, your hedge fund manager points you to page 8293 of your contract which says, in part: "...too late now a$$holes!!" and locks you in until either he has managed to arrange his flight to Argentina with any money that's left, or he rides every last cent down into the f*cking ground in a blazing aeroplane wreck.

And then when the Prime Minister guarantees bank deposits in a brazen attempt to buy off votes from scared morons who don't know what's going on, idiots locked into hedge funds complain that they aren't getting the same treatment.

So KRudd gets a staffer to point them to page 8293 of their contracts and the whole cycle starts again...

What The Chov would like to do is invest in the price of "idiot", which is about the only thing that would be guaranteed NEVER to fall and can only continue to increase.

Which is more than can be said for the price of Alan Greenspan's biography, titled "I Am The F*cken God-Genius of Finance" and was published about 5 minutes after he retired from the US Federal Reserve and 5 minutes before the financial crisis gave every economy in the world explosive diarrhoea.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Great Geniuses of the Internet: A Case Study

Chov-Blog Groupies, let's welcome to the stage, this week's winner, Mr "Sergey of Australia"!

But, first, some filler.

Recently, some f*ckwit saw a photo on Google Maps with a lens flare or some other boring f*cken photographic effect, and immediately concluded it was genuine bona-fide evidence of UFOs.

As you do.

The Daily Rag, always on the lookout for stupid $hit to print, ran it immediately at
and gave the work experience kid who saw it on the Reuters wire a pay-rise and a new office.

The title of the story is "Does this Google Map snap show a UFO over Sydney?"

Of course the correct and standard response is "Of course not you f*cking dimwits" and we're done here.

But that's where the "Comments" section comes in, to save the day and inject some peerless comedy into an otherwise nondescript event.

You know comments sections. They make me weep for joy at their sheer beauty, for without them we would never experience the sheer ecstasy of reading the inane ramblings of nimrods - long may they reign.

Here, in completely unaltered, smoothly-shaved virgin glory, is Sergey's offering to the world, produced (as far as I can tell) when Sergey took a break from smearing faeces on himself and the walls and headbutted the keyboard with his face, producing a string of text he was satisfied accurately represented his visions and the last conversation he had with Ahura Mazda (conducted during ad breaks for the Australian Idol Finale, a program Sergey thought was a disturbing and hard-hitting documentary).

* "Why everytime we see the evidence of "UFO" everyone gets impressed so much?"

It's not evidence, moron. It could be snot on the f*cken camera lens for all you know. And nobody seemed all that impressed, except for YOU. Sergey took all his clothes off and rubbed peanut butter in his ar$e crack he was so excited.

* "the contact with earth is happening for thousands and thousands of years. Even if YOU don't beleive in what have not yet seen for your own eyes, that's fine... "

I don't believe what I have not yet seen? It's kind of like he attempted a double-negative, but f*cked even THAT up so badly it became a very DEEP philosophical musing.

* "But there billions of other planets in the universe and billions types of different civilizations..."


* "some of them obviously do have a technology that we unfortunately cannot yet even imagine properly..."

Translation: They have anal-probes so advanced we can't even imagine them. But Sergey draws them on the walls of bus-shelters whenever he can because he's trying to educate us.

* "Than smarter you are than easier for you to understand it."

This is simply The Single Greatest Sentence Ever Typed.

* "w hat you call "UFO" will obviously not try to get in contact with the monkey or people who live in their own 10meter world.. what would be the point?"
Posted by: Sergey of Australia 3:05pm today

We call them UFOs, but Sergey calls them by their first names - Justin, Nigel and "Probey".

And so this Opus Magnifico comes to a premature end, just when it seemed Sergey's genius was just getting fired up and he could have revealed so much more to us, like why the Voices tell him to drop his pants and start manipulating himself on the train every morning.


Thursday, December 11, 2008

Our new Spider Overlords are here. Obey them or die.

Sweet merciful titty-f*cking Christ.

Mutant spiders from f*cking Mars have arrived on Earth. And they are going to kill us all. It's too late to repent, it's all over people.

Some grandpa from Cairns, taking a break from writing angry letters to the local Bowling Club, wandered out into his back garden (to collect the large number of tennis-balls hit there by neighbourhood kids, which he refuses to return) and came across the F*cking Unholy Motherf*cking Geezus of All Spiders.

Killing and eating what was a f*cking ostrich but has been sucked so dry is now only the size of a finch.

Mmm, tastes like chicken.

What sort of f*cking web snags a f*cken BIRD for f*ck's sake?

The web of the SPIDER of F*CKING ABBADDON, THAT'S WHAT. Made out of sticky silk and strengthened with thousands of DEVOURED SOULS.

Disney rejected the heartwarming story of Billy Birdy and his spider friend, Fangy, and their zany adventures. They thought it was "too gay".

Nobody can tell me, ever again, that spiders perform a useful service in nature, because here is an unholy ABOMINATION and eight-legged FREAK injecting about 14 litres of VENOM into a bird, whilst I am still bitten by f*cken mosquitoes in the world. With motherf*ckers like THIS why are there ANY insects left?

Noah, the stupid old bearded dickhead, could have certainly left two of these hideous mutants OFF THE F*CKEN BOAT, and CHOV WOULDN'T HAVE COMPLAINED.

Daddy, what's happening to Twittles? I don't think that spider is really "whispering in his ear" at all, like Mummy said. Is he ever going to sing his happy morning song again? Is he?? Is he???


The ONLY good spider.
For the multitude of anal-retentives who emailed The Chov, yes I realise that the 'trick' is making the spider appear larger than it really is, and yes it is all in the camera angle and proximity of the camera to the HIDEOUS PROFANE BEAST, and also that the finch is really not that big a bird.

But that would make for a pretty lame f*cken blog post. Idiots.
Plus I just really really really f*cken hate spiders. So kiss my hairy wrinkly lolly-bag.
The Chov - abusing his fans since 2008, because they love it.

I'll see your "Top 7 Worst guitar Solos" and raise you....

Some dude not named Steve Vai decided to blog about the "Top 7 Worst Guitar Solos Of All Time", although how something could be the "top worst" anything is puzzling to those of us with brains.

But anyway.


The Fred Durst one IS quite funny. Watch it, if nothing else. It's very much like he thought about a f*ck-off-five-minute-face-melting guitar shred, moved his fingers around the frets, played a few random notes to warm up and then realised - in a moment of CRYSTAL F*CKEN CLARITY - he had ZERO F*CKEN IDEA WHAT HE WAS DOING.

There are other lists around if you google enough, but what a waste of f*cken time.

Here comes Chov, to save your time and effort and just give it to you straight.

The worst 100 guitar solos of all time ALL BELONG TO TOM MORELLO. ALL of them. EVERY SINGLE F*CKEN ONE. Yep - from #1 through #100, and probably another 500 dishonourable mentions that just miss the cut. In fact, every solo he has ever played just goes on the list. Some good songs, some good riffs, sure. But his production assistants should just TURN THE F*CKEN SOUND OFF when he launches into a solo. This moron is responsible for a thousand people turning off rock music and toward hip-hop EVERY TIME THEY HEAR HIS SOLOS.

Tom is somehow 'famous'. I think it's for:

1. setting a new Guiness Book record for "most stickers on a guitar body, none of which are cool"*;
2. wearing a stupid f*cken Chicago Cubs cap for 8,934 days straight;
3. writing a bunch of whiny f*cken songs whilst in Rage Against The Machine, whinging about everything in the entire United States, but REFUSING TO LEAVE AND LIVE IN COMMUNIST F*CKEN CHINA, and
4. his custom "Digitech Whammy", which enables him to record himself taking a $hit with a microphone inserted into his own anus, digitise the sound and amplify it through his guitar - as a solo.

* They include a f*cken hippo (no I am not making this up) and an "Arm the Homeless" sticker. Yeah, that's what we f*cken need, crack-heads in the f*cken bus-interchange in Civic begging for small-change WHILE PACKING F*CKEN HEAT.

And while I'm on guitarists, here's a message to Coldplay, the MOST OVER_RATED BAND IN THE UNIVERSE, from The Chov and his hero Johnny Cash:

Hey Chris Martin! Have a Nice Day, now, y'hear?

And what exactly DID the angsty f*cken annoying little pi$$-ant little band of whiny-looking wimpy little f*cks actually DO to inspire this wrath? (Besides existing...)



Tuesday, December 9, 2008

What's smarter? The Prime Minister or a Vermicious Knid?

Geezus H Titty-F*cking Christ.

Regular readers of this blog have commented on the lack of Chov-rage being directed at politics here in recent times.

Well that was because KRudd, Patron Saint of Working Families, has done so many f*cking moronic things recently that my eyeballs had f*cking well LIQUEFIED in RAGE at his overall galactic level of F*CKWITTERY and I was rendered temporarily unable to type.

But here we go with the straw that smashed the f*cken spine of the dromedary.

KRudd the Imbecile decided to gift $1000 to a completely f*cking random selection of society in a time of economic chaos. Somewhere in his f*cking peanut brain that made sense as a strategy to save the World and single-handedly overturn the woes of AIG, Lehman Bros and Jimity J. F*ckwit down at the Wagga RSL.

At the time it was meant to be some sort of safety net for lower income earners against rising petrol prices, inflationary pressure and interest rates.

It never occurred to him that f*ckwits doing stupid $hit with other people's money caused the f*cken problem in the first place.

But why would it?

After all, this is the f*cken moron who has a beer in the middle of a strip club and then is F*CKEN INSTANTANEOUSLY STRUCK BLIND, DEAF and DUMB for a short period of time (normally corresponding to the precise length of time it takes for the conversation to move onto another topic).

Either that, or when medical science discovers the nature of SELECTIVE INVISIBLE NAKED BREAST SYNDROME they can name if after this f*cking moron.

And this week we had the man himself take a break from flying a A380 Airbus DOWN THE F*CKEN STREET FOR MILK AND A NEWSPAPER for the ELEVENTH TIME SINCE THURSDAY to tell the great unwashed masses that they should take their freshly granted cash-wad and moan loudly whilst they blow it all over the face of retail assistants across the country in time for Xmas.

Never mind it takes a cash turnover of about 1% of GDP to make any sort of f*cken difference. And never mind that a few thousand pensioners buying another f*cken X-Box is NOT GOING TO F*CKEN STIMULATE INVESTMENT nor will it suddenly imbue the Treasurer Wayne Swan with a F*CKEN CLUE ABOUT KEYNESIAN ECONOMIC THEORY.

See the reason KRudd himself came out to make the announcement is mainly because it wasn't a f*ck-up (which he gets others front and centre for) but also because the illustrious Treasurer was busy at the time, puffing away hard on the pedals as he runs the Great PedalTasticF*cktacularDiscopoplepticEconomulatorMobile!

That is ripped off directly from the Wonkamobile, and I admit it.

But it also allows me to shoe-horn this quote* in:

Charlie: Grandpa, is this thing going to go fast?
Grandpa Joe: It f*cking well should, Charlie, it's got more gas in it than the f*cken Treasurer AND the Prime Minister.

*Warning: May be slightly different from original movie quote.

Wayne "Daddy Warbucks" Swan thinks the economic crisis actually started because he took a break and stopped pedalling when Romper Room came on the TV and he wanted to be a flower blooming in the morning with all the other kids. It wasn't until Mr Doobee came on with the music that Wayne realised his error and that Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac weren't that old couple he talked to in the shopping mall in Revesby when he was back on the campaign trail.

These people run our country, for f*ck's sake.

What KRudd needs is a good f*cken hour or so in the taffy-pulling machine.

Thursday, December 4, 2008


Well, it made me laugh...


For those who can't be bothered following the link and reading the story (and there will be many of you) allow Chov to both refer to himself in the third person and also explain.

Once upon a time a completely and utterly insignificant $hit-splat of a "death-metal" band formed in Sweden.

As an aside, it bemuses Chov and stumps modern science that Scandinavia, seemingly a place of liberal idyll in the modern world, should produce and export about 99.9% of the world's "death metal". Quite why there should be so many angry death-metallers spawned in such a lovely place is beyond me. Perhaps it is because all their cute, blond pig-tailed and big-breasted women are off backpacking around the world and there are none left at home. Whatever.

Anyway, this completely unheard of band called themselves NIFELHEIM, apparently because they are so SATANIC and EVIL no other word in any human language could evoke the sheer stanic-ness and evil-osity of this band.

Or it might have just been the name of a bedroom suite from the last 'IKEA' catalogue.

In Chov's humble opinion, these guys are to "EVIL" and "SATANIC" what Dark Helmet from Spaceballs was to...err...well..."EVIL" and "SATANIC".

That is, a f*cken joke. But at least Mel Brooks knows what a joke is when he sees it, even if he is looking in the mirror at the time.

Allow a band-member of NIFELHEIM (warning: merely saying this name invokes EVIL SATANIC...err...STUFF TO HAPPEN...err...POSSIBLY) to speak for himself....

Note: seeing as "normal" names couldn't convey his sheer evilaciousness and satanicasmosity, he decided to call himself (I $hit you not..) "Vengeance From Beyond". Which must have sounded cool on the Quake message boards, but translates to 'real-life' rather poorly.

No, really, that's his EVIL-SOUNDING name. Some other moron in the band answers to "Apocalyptic Desolator", which must be quite a handy Scrabble score, and yet another tool in the band goes by "Insulter of Jesus Christ", or sometimes just "Nigel" for short.

Anyway, Mr From Beyond describes the terrifying evil of NIFELHEIM thus:

"...a total attack of satanic black metal...a true synergy of evil..."

To which I can only wet my pants and squeal....Eeeek!

And, once more....eeeek!

Chov's alternate description, without even having heard a note, might be "shit". But you make up your own mind.

Now I had to get my legal team to work with Blogger.com just so I could type the following sentence...

NIFELHEIM's latest album is called *ahem* "ENVOY OF LUCIFER".

Are you ok?

See, Blogger.com and their legal representatives were concerned that the name of the album was SO EVIL that merely READING THE NAME could cause innocent people to SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST from FEAR.

So, now that I have reduced my readership to approximately 0.00 I could stop here. But I won't.



Ooooh, EVIL!!!!

EEEEK! (cue: fainting, screaming, general $hitting of pants in fear etc etc)

They also have a song, or EP, or something, called "Sepulcral Fornication" which is interesting but far too complicated to be a good name for a Porn flick, even one containing vampire lesbos. And it should be "sepulchral" anyway. Morons.

Anyway, this band, or more specifically their bass player "Tyrant" (his brother's name is "Hellbutcher"...now stop laughing they are EVIL remember?), saw fit to slag off a few people in the "biz" recently. And, you know, he can, because, you know, NIFELHEIM have sold about 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 records and he is the bestest and most evilopturous bassist. Ever.

He probably also thinks he is a real DEMON in the sack (hahahahah I write all my own material, honest).

So, anyways, "Tyrant" is obviously giving his interview sitting on giant piles of cash and surrounded by millions of gold records when he says "Motley Crue and Municipal Waste are likely the worst bands in the world."

Well, one of them MIGHT be, according to taste, but the other is simply a problem for your local council. No point ragging on to some Swedish metal fanzine about it, as I doubt they are experienced waste-management consultants.

I also like the way he says "likely", leaving himself a little bit of room for later correction, just in case he appears FOOLISH.

"Next to Metallica," he adds, for effect.

At some point, Mr Tyrant might pause to consider just how it has eventuated that an apparently crap band like Metallica can sell millions of albums while his little outfit, despite their ties to the DARK LORD HIMSELF, can barely scrape together enough money to buy a Happy Meal, let alone hot Goth groupies and endless lines of cocaine.

Either Lars and the dudes in 'Tallica have just a TEENSY bit more talent than he's giving them credit for, or else Beelzebub Metal Management Inc. aren't quite living up the hype in their ads. Or perhaps getting a high-score playing "Jordan" on Guitar Hero "Expert" setting isn't really the platform to world domination and endless #1 records that Tyrant and his man-buddies think it is.

But what made me laugh most of all (yes, even more than this bunch of idiots being even less EVIL and SCARY than Niklas Bendtner's PINK BOOTS) was when Mr Tyrant described "Dimebag" Darrell (the now-dead former guitarist of Pantera and Damageplan) as a "f*cking glam-fag".

Hello Mr Pot, meet Mr Kettle....yes that's right, allow me to introduce to the stage....Mr Tyrant himself!! Complete with signature-series Tyrant Mascara (TM)!

Avert your eyes, children, he's the TRUE SYNERGY OF EVIL, not some "f*cken glamfag"!

And no, you haven't just stumbled into the "Relax" video by "Frankie Goes To Hollywood". This is NIPPLEHEIM...errr...NIFELHEIM - the world's MOST EVIL BAND!!! EEEEEK!!! No glamfags, or girl-germs, or kittens, or dolls allowed!! 'Cos we're SCARY AND EVIL, US!!! GRRRR!