South East QLD and Northern N.S.W Cripple Stick Enthusiasts

womble · Post by **womble** » Mon Sep 06, 2010 8:20 pm

So AB gave Old Crazy a bell ... Old Crazy graciously accepted the gift ... held it up to his ear and gave it a tinkle ... or a peal as it is correctly called ... he thought he would have preferred a most tubular bell ... his mind stalled at the thought and then wondered ... Isabelle on a bike or a door ... pearls of wisdom ... peals of bells ... peals of banana ... apples appealing ... but mango's where he is needed most ... dough is kneaded ... frogs go knee-deep in a pond ... Copsava will be knee-deep in kneeboarders ... almost time to load up the shopping trolley and trundle on down ... the thoughts were racing ... on a wet track mind you and the favourite was running last ... something had to be done ... and fast ... Old Crazy called up the walrus ... and gave him a bell ... which looked quite resplendent sitting next to the gong ... Old Crazy felt a lot better ... but was still waiting impatiently for destiny to call ... it had been awhile after all ... impatience is a virtue best served after rolling stoned a mile in another man's wife's mossy shoes ... he thought as he reached for the white pages and started thumbing through the listings under D.

RMcKnee · Post by **RMcKnee** » Mon Sep 06, 2010 8:54 pm

They thought he was MIA when all along he was really MAA.

Here ya go Womble!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQVw0Z-BnQM

womble · Post by **womble** » Tue Sep 07, 2010 12:13 am

Ah ... McKnee you're done it again ... just like Mister Magoo ... the only difference is you have eye sight and a brain ... Oh and you're not as animated as old Mr M.
Hey while I've got your attention ... for some reason or other I jumped onto this thread the other day ... and ended up at the beginning ... start ... first page ... etc ... anyway I noticed that you had deleted your posts ... interesting to say the least ... answer forthcoming ... or not ... must say it does intrigue me ... anyway each to his own ... by the way ... Old Crazy loves your work ... an intellectual cripple he says you are ... not an intellectual cripple ... but an intellectual dash cripple ... if you know what he means ... of course you couldn't understand the quagmire of his thought ... lets try ... smart kneeboarder ... a fathom is only six feet ... a couple of meters in the metric scale ... but to try and fathom Old Crazy ... well lets just say ... he's over six feet and unmeterable ...

RMcKnee · Post by **RMcKnee** » Tue Sep 07, 2010 5:59 am

Old Crazy wrote:Hey while I've got your attention ... for some reason or other I jumped onto this thread the other day ... and ended up at the beginning ... start ... first page ... etc ... anyway I noticed that you had deleted your posts ... interesting to say the least ... answer forthcoming ... or not ...

Enjoying the smell of your own stale farts eh?

I tried it a while back while in the middle of a pretty severe bad back episode and under the influence of heavy-duty painkillers decided it would be a good idea to erase all traces of my online alter-ego and fade mysteriously into a dark corner of cyberspace. While some would no doubt regard that as a consummation devoutly to be wished it turned out to be far too much deleting for my monged-out self and I fell asleep at the keyboard. When I woke up I saw the error of my ways, threw out the pills, sought therapy and hey presto, here I am, good as new but minus the bad smell.

womble · Post by **womble** » Sun Sep 12, 2010 5:44 pm

Like a phoenix rising from the hashish … Old Crazy stepped from the still smouldering rubble that had only days before been a town known as Copsava. The Kneeboard Militia had made short work of this quiet little backwards water … no banana had been spared … no drink left standing … the assault was swift and ruthless. Coincidently it was also randomly mind numbingly fun … Old Crazy hadn't enjoyed a good bout of depravation of this calibre since the good old days of Pol Pots love-ins … fond memories indeed ... dressing up in a freshly dry-cleaned AK47 … slipping on a pair of high heeled combat boots … wacking on the lipstick and khmer rouge … ah yes ... nothing like a holiday in Cambodia … but this recent little bout of freshly squeezed seaside genocide had been a hoot.
It had started early on a friday morning … the shopping trolley had bin laden with all the necessary incendiary devices … magic carpets … bedroom flippers and limes required for a genuine attempt at world domination. After greasing his wheels ... the authorities … filling his pockets with imagination keys … phoning a parole officer … quaking like a duck … ducking into the bathroom … he left … right … on time … smelling the future he strode onwards … next stop was an overpriced sandfly infested reclaimed swamp named after a tree … it was also a haven for the anally born … a leper like colony for those who preferred black … entering this lawless land was something akin to going on a picnic in the Belanglo State Forest with Ivan Milat … but for Old Crazy there was no option … like Frodo … he would need allies to enter and indeed return victoriously from Mordor … and it was foretold that here in this mentally bankrupt cesspool of dissidents and despots he would find a kindred spirit … a Cheech for his Chong … an electrically charged … rum infused beast … and keeper of the flame ... he be AB he be.
Well with that little segue out of the way it was time to unfurl the war banners and charge headlong into battle … charge of the lightly frayed … nightly flayed … slightly delayed … anyway on their way they were.
After a pleasurably leisurely jaunt down the coast in scooby doo the black war canoe … they arrived at KB-HQ … to be greeted by a very red walrus … who staunchly denied having engine trouble on his north bound journey when asked if he had blown a seal … the redness was also not as suggested the latest khmer rouge … but indeed the result of a distinct lack of sunscreen … thats history and he's sticking to it … his story repeats its self … like curried egg sandwiches.
As the afternoon progressed a steady precession of mercenaries made their way through the gates … seasoned and sea-stoned veterans of past battles stood around in anticipation of things to come.
The scene was set … the sets were small and a rumour had spread through the ranks that a galah and a sparrow had flown into town … that could wait … so as birds of a feather stick together … it was time to duck up the road to the boozeramma and swallow some ammo … and no the taxi drivers name wasn't albert-ross … it was shazza … maybe … the pub on the other hand was owned by a crow … a rusty crow … don't mention the phone … I won't if you don't … on the other hand a dishonourable mentioning of some of the players in this pantomime of pandemonium would seem appropriate … as the scene inside this watering hole … this den of iniquity … was something akin to side show ally on holidays …or the freak shows happy hour … complete with Willy Nelsons shrunken brother and well known blue skinned star Papa Smurf … a walking tree called Trevor … a walrus of course … off-course of course … the chocolate brothers from Yamba … Darrell-lea … lots of wackers and novos … Shrek even made an appropriate and timely visit with his wonderful handmade trumpets of delirious joy … a few racehorses were also seen throughout the district … the chocolate bro's don't do things in halves.
The war had started … not all these brave souls would emerge on the other side … some would fall others simply fade away … the lines had been drawn … at the end there could be only one. Shrek fought bravely ... but after being run down by a rampaging feral … dragging himself up again to fight through the pain … he eventually fell … the sound of his trumpet silenced and sadly missed. The sparrow and galah smote all before them … none could withstand their combined furry … the walrus tried valiantly but to no avail … bruised and beaten he retired from battle … and as the sun descended Old Crazy returned to HQ to lick his wounds and was greated by a walrus moosing a hair … hey Rocky watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat … woops wrong hat … oh Bullwinkle not again. For two days and nights these knights and shites in briny armour crossed swords … legs and roads in pursuit of the grail … unwashed and battle scared they fought and fell … and when the smoke cleared … they had run out of tallyho's … obviously. Last drinks gentlemen ... time please … this is the end said a door before disappearing … and it was … the galah strode forth victorious … caressed by the sweet smell of success … all hail the champion.
As for Old Crazy … well lets just say he's in another state altogether … and happy to be there … lucks a fortune … and that smell he extrudes probably isn't victory ... if you know what I mean ... hey trendsetters … another rude awakening … oh well.

analbirth · Post by **analbirth** » Sun Sep 12, 2010 6:55 pm

yeah i had a hoot as well, you know although i can't show his face on camera or in this forum while alluding to him in this comment*1....
9 out of 10 Walruses prefer to moose*2 their hares*3 sans masking tape

*1 walruses, while being mainly friendly & mostly harmless creatures are s still entitled to their anonymity
*2 moose - american deer/elk ...
to moose- usually, to apply gelling agent to one's hairy bits
to moose - in this case - euphemism [ fill in according to your sense of
the ridiculous]
*3 hares - large rabbit like creature... generally harder to catch due to t their natural dislike for long tusked amphibious hairy mammals,
consequently making the endeavour much more fun

wolruss · Post by **wolruss** » Mon Sep 13, 2010 2:38 pm

Just got back from 'Copsava' and read all this drivel

what a great pair of characters AB & Womble turned out to be, as if you couldn't tell by the last couple of posts. A bloody great weekend....

1. Great company
2. Great weather
3. unpredicted extremely surfable conditions (despite it turning onshore
Saturday arvo)
4. again ..... a terrific bunch of kneeboarders to be mixing with
5. Absolutely the best sponsor...The Plantation Hotel...made everyone
feel welcome,smiling faces,1/2 price meals - great food - and they want to up the ante for next years comp.
6. A very well run comp, congrats John Clingan, pulled this one out of the hat for an incredibly successful weekend
7. Trevor for the initiative to make the connections in his home town for all this to happen

A fairly chuffed Wolruss

wolruss · Post by **wolruss** » Mon Sep 13, 2010 2:53 pm

Should have been an award for the 'ring tone' of the comp and it's ability to clear a room....bloody Queenslanders......
Very funny weekend, can't speak highly enough of the vibe of the comp. some new competitors who really performed well, David Condon, Bruce (Womble) Oasterly, Peter Buswell, some recently newer guys Alan (AB) Bruce, Leigh Cameron....good to see Daryl Skilling come to watch the proceedings (and share a drink or three) and of course all the old hands (speaking of which, mine are still sticky from 'moosing' that hare) that are the stalwarts of the sport.
Some absolutely mind blowing surfing in the finals on Sunday from the best this country has in the forms of Matt Gallagher, Simon Farrer, Glen Bitton, Baden Smith, and as Steeno has mentioned, they finished up in that order.
Cheers Wolruss

womble · Post by **womble** » Tue Sep 14, 2010 1:10 pm

The smoke had finally settled and the minesweepers moved in to extinguished any remnants of volatile concoctions. As the final curtain fell ... the bedraggled players shuffled from centre stage ... exiting to the ever darkening recesses of their own minds ... like flies to honey they had arrived ... but in the end it was as thieves in the night they left ... yet content with the knowledge that world domination was more than a dream ... to this merry band of men it was a reality ... Rusty Crow Rusty Crow riding through Nana Glen ... sang Old Crazy as he propelled the shopping trolley northwards. Stopping momentarily to gaze at a pig with a big ball of string ... could this be the legendary Nottingham without a K ... he wondered ... if only he could find a small toilet ... yes ... a Little John ... and who Maid Marianne Faithful ... did she Friar Tuck ... who was that Guy from Gisbourne ... would he find Alan in a Dale ... Will Scarlet meet the Lionhearted Dick King of England. Old Crazy gave the crown jewels a bit of a scratch ... grabbed his last remaining imagination key and caught the last train to Bombay ... sikh a ye will find ... said the six legged elephant as he stepped aboard ... Old Crazy sneezed ... Ganesha ... said the elephant ... your welcome replied Old Crazy ... then continued ... is this an express ... you see ... after a life of excess I'm searching for success ... you've come to the right place ... said the elephant ... next stop nirvana.

Howard Lorney · Post by **Howard Lorney** » Wed Sep 15, 2010 3:23 pm

Great few posts guys, reeeally entertaining.

Womble, how do you do it

wolruss · Post by **wolruss** » Wed Sep 15, 2010 5:18 pm

Howard, even better in person, takes Bill Connolly of to a 'T', and with AB filling in while Wombles taking a breath you just get time to get a gulp of rum down the throat before your rolling around in fits....Hope to see them at the next contest up north...or even the World's next March ?????

Cheers Wolruss

analbirth · Post by **analbirth** » Fri Nov 05, 2010 7:50 pm

good east swell down here in mexico boys, went out around 10 this morning the wind swung around to the s/w and it's picked up to around 2m on the sets,
wind is sposed to ease back and be s/w in the morning, should be on.

womble · Post by **womble** » Fri Nov 05, 2010 8:03 pm

Good waves just north of a certain little creek mouth ... A-frame wedges ... offshore ... the lefts were better than the rights ... surfed it for two hours ... before the weekend warriors invaded the line-up.
Heading back in the morning ... early ... then flying west for a week ... frocking work getting in the way of fun again.

Christmas is fast approaching ... so with that thought in mind ... ...

After shaking hands with his new friend the six armed elephant ... Ganesha … Old Crazy enlightened from the train … then he alighted and then he got off … no off the train you potty minds.
Anyway Old Crazy is off the train enlightened … the train has moved on to wreak havoc on another thread … and as for Ganesha … well thats the elephant in the room so to speak.
Our resident lunatic arrived home from his weekend of world domination … somewhat wiser after shedding a few superfluous braincells along the way. Nothing like a good cell culling to liven up the senses thought Old Crazy as he sat under the mango tree mulling over the events of the past week or so.
Time flies when your having fun … fruit flies too … when you sit under a mango tree … fruit flies with fruit flies … and before he knew it … it was almost the festive season … with that a thought stopped racing to fester itself … the festering thought had Old Crazy in a spin … the spinning only made him dizzy … this made him nauseous … and this gave him an idea … a fully sick idea.
Thats it … the idea … the band … getting the band back together … like a bunch of ageing rockers … heading around one more time … slipping on the spandex … moussing up the mullet … groping groupies … long nights with even longer daze … sex-drugs-n-rock-roll … ah yes nothing like drowning in your own vomit … thats the life … or lack of it.
A super group was needed … a band of raucous revelatory rock-n roll revivalists rebels reeking of rebellion and stale bong water … or the Kneeboard Militia.
It was time to call them in … that band of extraordinary gentlemen … the kneeolithic kneeanderthals. World domination had been put on hold for long enough. The sands of time were slipping away like coins through holes in pockets Opportunity was knocking … but was anybody home … yes the lights were on … yes it was still daytime … and no it wasn't the avon lady.
The call had been made … would it be answered … as moths to a flame will they come … or like the hollow promises of a drunken one-night stand would they not materialise.
Old Crazy was hopeful as usual or unusual as it may be … to be or not to be … that was the answer … the question would come later … like a good lover … or a credit card bill.
The Kneeboard Militia on the other hand had a date with destiny … who had come up from copsava for a holiday in the sun.
Now for that question … somewhere on the coast sometime between now and then … on a given day … at a predetermined destination … at preordained time … could the chosen few … would the chosen few attend a gathering of kinds. To surf … talk … and enjoy the company of kindred spirits.
Its been a while … its about time … its yea or neigh … or maybe possibly depends.

analbirth · Post by **analbirth** » Fri Nov 05, 2010 11:16 pm

good title for a song, "the train to cripple creek" all aboard and i think this time it should be mandatory to pack the esky and the bong full of consumables for if not the day but at least the morning munchies after and before play time................ then a nana nap cause i'll be all worn out

womble · Post by **womble** » Tue Nov 09, 2010 3:21 pm

This is no place for the faint hearted … thought Old Crazy … its a jungle out there … and he was sitting smack bang in the middle of the whole shite fight … surrounded by an army of internet warriors … you know the type … the type that type tripe. One handed computer operators furiously banging away at their keyboard ... whilst simultaneously banging away at other matters in hand … forget about masturbating monkeys these people play them off a break … sitting in their cages ... throwing s*&^ and eating it at the same time. De-evolution at its finest … fiddling like Nero as their own version of Rome burns around them.
Mostly harmless most of the time … pumped full of their own self importance … with a best friend named Google and numerous accounts on adult dating sites. They sit and wait … preying for prey … not like a tiger … but a spider on the web … all arms and legs with an arse bigger than its head. Dishing out opinions like theirs actually matters … twittering like twits … faceless faeces fencing on face book … invading my space … constantly in your face … with disgrace hiding almost discreetly just around the corner with a digital camera and his old mate going viral.
Thankfully for Old Crazy he keeps away from space book and my face … preferring the calming solitude of his strange and dignified if not somewhat eccentric friends at kneeboarding central.
But he had a problem … you see ... he had sent a message out on the electronic carrier pigeon … in the hope of receiving a response to a question ... and maybe even an answer. Zip … zero … nothing … naught was the reply. Well he did get a hastily written letter from the rum infused swamp dweller known simply as aye-bee … aside from that the silence was profound and deafening.
Profound deafening silence might be a good name for a band … but not Old Crazy's … which at the moment was a simple duet … in more ways than one … without a rhythm section … stumbling around like a drunken roady without a roll of gaff-tape.
Still waiting … still dreaming … maybe he should ask the masturbating monkeys … now that is a good name for a band.