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

analbirth · Post by **analbirth** » Tue Dec 25, 2012 3:44 am

cheers and back at ya but with much less fanfare and loquaciousness

womble · Post by **womble** » Thu Mar 14, 2013 12:39 am

With christmas but a distant dream in both directions and easter approaching at mach 10 … (for the technical of mind mach 10 = 3402.9 m/s) … which incidentally is a much slower speed than Messrs Parkinson … Fanning and Slater achieved during the final days surfing at the opening event of lock up your grandmother … the forty one year old king is in town and laying it down like a cyclist juiced up on peptides.
Yes its yesterdays news … the hangers-on are hanging out ... coloured vests drying in the afternoon light … vested interests have shifted … their attention now in another direction but not all that far removed. While the tents are being folded the cliches get rolled out … reporters jostle through the pecking order as the cameras flash and the prizes and whats left of the cash are splashed about.

The Undertaker is a wrestler of some repute … The Dead Man … The Phenom … Kanes brother …not that thats important … but able under the most extreme circumstances to emerge the victor … choke- slamming and tombstone pile-driving his opponents into … yes into the canvas … one two three … goodnight.
Slater too is a phenom … and like the 2.08m Mark William Calaway aka The Taker … he's got the longevity to prove it. The only difference one could make is that while one plies his trade in a legitimate sport ... the other is more of a circus performer … jumping through the hoops of an overhyped sideshow to the main game of marketing … the correct terminology for that dear friends is professional surfer.

Old Crazy loves nothing more than a good old fashioned tug of war style smack em down wrestling match … not that homoerotic greco roman stuff … the real deal where men dress up in pantomime costumes and hit each other in the face with chairs.
So it was with great anticipation that he made himself a couple of sun dried gold-top mushroom sandwiches and a peyote thick shake to provide sustenance during the opening rounds of the world championship tour … surfing par excellence ladies and gentlemen thanks for coming.

The first couple of days was as Old Crazy rightly puts it … the stuff of dreams … I mean with a belly full of gold top and peyote soup seeping into the bloodstream how could it not be.
Them there charlie wheelers surf like the geezers … bejeezers they are good … and not just looking … off the richter in scale and cute as buttons … not the Hawaiian one … haberdashery … with not a lot of cloth. The next time Old Crazy gets told he surfs like a girl … he's taking it as a compliment.
But … and here's the conundrum … with surfable surf peeling from the point … second one along from the first in line … the contest director put the brakes on … screechingly pulling up the stumps and putting a stop to proceedings.
Old Crazy was pacing the floor … forlorn but bristling with anticipation … he'd been given a taste … a taste of things to come … the future unbridled … so with his usual lack of decorum he sat fully stained and unsated ... waiting like a junky looking for a fix … transfixed and ready to roll … in more ways than one.

Old Crazy wandered down when the call was given … and whilst he was stepping forward the girls stepped back … a peg or two or ten … one good wave does not a contest make. Old Crazy's never met a snake call Jake … but if he did he'd have no hesitation pointing out that mistake … face to face … face planting in the sand was the only option … Old Crazy took it … you never have to ask him twice.

And so the weak end came … sorry … weekend came … and with the surf looking anything but contestable … conditions for running the competition were improving dramatically … the onshore crowd was building rapidly … whilst the forecast predicted favourable six to eight foot offshore sales in the tents selling the events merchandise and paying the rents. All systems go was the call … send the lambs out to slaughter … and they did … sorry girls.
Old Crazy was walking the beach at the time … looking like a tall Columbo … but with two eyes ... and Albert Einstein's hair … wearing a crumbled overcoat and that ever present enormous reefer clenched between his teeth. In between the usual unusual mutterings he was heard to say ... what in freaking freaksville is goin on … throwing the girls out like last nights garbage … in that trash is rubbish … they deserve better … shame on the machine. Don't get me wrong he screamed into the onshore breeze … cynically jaded … sarcastic and overly opinionated … but wrong … never wrong … not in my mind anyway … yours just refuses to understand … am I the only one who envisages that the sands of time can't be pumped through a pipe.
But they persevered … that machine … deadlines and timelines and hats to sell … it wasn't pretty … not even the girls … well thats not true … they were … the surfing wasn't … shame that. So much promise … but stifled for growth … locked in the basement of pro-surfing and fed scraps … isn't there a law against that … in the real world maybe … but like parsley on a five dollar counter lunch they get left floating in cheap salty gravy.

The best was left till last … Kirra … far from its best … and in actual fact lacking any desire to function anywhere like the legendary surfers would attest … get in line Kelly … MP is still the best at drinking it … like milk from a mothers breast … yes you are good … great even … don't argue just get in line.

And so it was … Old Crazy stood on the point of no return … dreaming of daze gone by … enthralled … captivated … hypnotised and quite simply gobsmacked by Mick Fanning … Joel Parkinson and Kelly “I'll spoil your party” Slater … as they wove their magic through the unmakable barrels of a distant dream.

There's supposed to be full stop here … but its far from over … Mick and Joel could have easily won that … there was no chalk and cheese … just a sigh of relief from the guy who is really smarting from a defeat at pipe … thats a good thing … a hungry Slater … how long have joe public have to suffer with the half arsed couldn't couldn't give a rats rectum bull-shizle about winning diatribe … this is the real deal … its game changing … with opponents more than capable of rattling the cage … and the old sage still doggedly holding fort ... dream on hipsters ... history is now.

Old Crazy said … didn't that bloke used to have hair.

knee_boarder · Post by **knee_boarder** » Thu Mar 14, 2013 4:37 am

womble wrote:stuff

loved the writing mate, really great stuff

MJ · Post by MJ » Sat Mar 16, 2013 1:11 pm

womble · Post by **womble** » Tue Apr 16, 2013 8:42 pm

Old Crazy was sitting unshaven and disheveled … drinking stale coffee and smoking cigarets ... the ashtray on the table overflowing with the if and buts of past regrets. A sink surrounded by empty bottles stood monument to another attempt at drowning the past … or dulling the future.
Not that it mattered now. His invisible friends had disappeared in the blink of an eye … gone … the empty space filled with yet another void … devoid of life … no Jim not as we know it … Beam me up … Star Trek is a bottle of bourbon … vale Scotty … vale ksusa … nanu nanu Mork and Mindy … may the farce be with you.

And so it was … Old Crazy's life resumed as before … before the glorious daze … before the dream … before world domination and all its trimmings was dashed against the rocks … sunken ... lost in a flash … inglorious in defeat and on bended knees … maybe thats how it should finish.

Old Crazy sat and pondered these thoughts … bogarted a finely rolled racehorse or ten and contemplated the fate of his lost companions. It wasn't long before he wondered if it had merely been a dream … a figment of his imagination. Maybe there had never been a talking walrus … or a stink eyed swamp dweller. Whatever the truth … the memories remained … those magical times were etched in his mind … he would honour the fallen and live his life in their memory … noble and strong he would stand against the winds of doubt … shouting in the face of adversity … collecting gold tops from cow dung and rummaging in his pockets for imagination keys.

CLICK … oh look … their back … said Old Crazy … anyone up for some freshly baked twice cooked world domination and a nice cheeky bottle of 1972 Chateau Napalm … dinning starts in 10-9-8-7- … …

Welcome back … I missed you guys.

analbirth · Post by **analbirth** » Wed Apr 17, 2013 12:42 am

awww such sweet sentiments womby poo, hope your back on your usual uneven keel and by the looks of it no permanent damage done

Cheers....... the stink eyed swamp dweller

wolruss · Post by **wolruss** » Wed Apr 17, 2013 3:20 pm

Ditto ....the walking talking Wolruss.

womble · Post by **womble** » Sat Oct 26, 2013 12:27 am

The twin towns stood as one … indistinguishable … with no visible divide. Smack bang in the middle of the street a sign said welcome to Queensland … “wow” said Old Crazy “thats crazy a talking sign”. On the other side of the sign the words hand written in large bold red lettering read … go back you're going the wrong way. Just up the road the sigh on a door advertised half priced beer during happy hour. Thats better thought Old Crazy as he necked a pot … nothing like a cleansing ale or ten for breakfast.

Things had been slow on the eastern front … world domination had all but come to a sand hill … stand still even. But with the federal erection reaching its vinegar stroke and Tony Yeah-But at the helm ... it was time to rekindle the fire. Reaching into his overcoat Old Crazy rummaged about for an imagination key … spark that little beasty up he mumbled as the layed a flame to the end of his freshly procured trumpet. Time to call an end to the dilly-dallying … this procrastination has to stop … soon … maybe … tomorrows as good a day as any.

Old crazy wondered if it was mango season … he also wondered what Gilligan got paid for a three hour cruise and if the Skipper ever skimped on the payments … and technically … seeing as the cruise was interrupted and never quite completed … was he now getting paid overtime. He wondered if there were mangos on the island too.

It was almost christmas … and it seemed like only yesterday that it was almost christmas the last time around. Time flies and fruit flies like fruit … mangoes are fruit and more than likely Gilligan was owed a fortune in back pay. Surely they could fix the boat.

There had been some rumblings about the kneeboard militia … idle chit chat maybe … but none the less a time for action was fast approaching … the KLA would be gathering soon … nothing would stop the kneeolithic kneeanderthals … not this time around … Old Crazy had the blueprints and he was kind of sure that he thought he knew where he'd put them … maybe.

analbirth · Post by **analbirth** » Sat Oct 26, 2013 3:09 am

Old crazy, a good thing about blueprints in these modern days is that you can put them on a stick.......now sticks sometimes get tarnished with sayings like, stick it up ya & shitt on a stick, and memory sticks are small enough to fit in shittholes !!!!! can you see where i is going with this ? no ? back to the blueprints or brownprints as in this case they should be labeled, but first wrap it [stick] in clingwrap in case we need to retrieve the files at a later gathering.
Oh and i'm not putting my hand up for that we jobby

womble · Post by **womble** » Sat Oct 26, 2013 3:26 pm

Our indigenous friends have had what they call a message stick for eons ... and Old Crazy has been sticking it to the man for almost as long ... not sure if the message has gotten through or even if they care ... but its the thought that counts ... apparently.

If you are inferring that these wayward prints of blue have been or should be secreted up the khyber pass ... you have misjudged our somewhat erratic antihero ... Old Crazy does not play the back nine ... not even for storage purposes ... he'd rather sink the pink than the brown in a game of pocket billiards any day.

Gotta go ... see you through the bathroom window.

analbirth · Post by **analbirth** » Sat Oct 26, 2013 7:31 pm

"Old Crazy had the blueprints and he was kind of sure that he thought he knew where he'd put them … maybe."

Sorry but i thought it was your idea

womble · Post by **womble** » Sat Nov 23, 2013 2:34 pm

So Old Crazy picked up the new shooter from the evergreen heavy weight kneeboard champion of the world. Just in time for the northerlies … nothing like a mouthful of bluebottles and more chop than the local butcher shop. To top it of some galoot managed to puncture the pooh pipe next to Currumbin RSL … releasing a school of blind mullet into the creek … it (with an SH) happens … literally.

The shiny new stick is very slick and lickety split… 5'10” x 23 ½” x 2 1/2” … its a keeper.

With his new weapon locked and loaded … Old Crazy is amped … pumped up and chafing at the bit. But his dreams of world domination are getting stymied at every turn. It would seem that the Kneeboard Liberation Army are totally inept when it comes to planning a surf invasion. Crawling out from under rocks is obviously not their thing … procrastination on the other hand is something they have in spades. Once again another year will disappear without even a whimper escaping from the collective maw's of the Kneeolithic Kneeanderthals. Well at least from the sparse smattering of kindred souls who reside in and around the nether regions of the land of queens and its borders … thats borders not boarders.

Novembers had the dick … its gone … shot … kaput. December is only two blocks away … sitting at the lights … with the windows down and the engine revving … playing Neil Young on the eight track … and sign above the freeway clearly states that this is nowhere … la di da la di da … everybody knows … everybody knows this is nowhere … la di da la di da … very body knows this is nowhere.

Theres a small beacon of light … a faint glimmer of hope … one things for sure … Old Crazy will catch up with the swamp dweller prior to santa falling down any chimneys. The flame will burn … briefly maybe … but it will burn … the dream will live on … and like the hero’s that went before them … these two soldiers of misfortune will unite and join farces to fight for the right to party.

Take it away (beastie) boys …

You wake up late for school - man you don't wanna go
 You ask you mom, "Please?" - but she still says, "No!"
 You missed two classes - and no homework
 But your teacher preaches class like you're some kind of jerk 

 You gotta fight for your right to party 

 You pop caught you smoking - and he said, "No way!"
 That hypocrite - smokes two packs a day
 Man, living at home is such a drag
 Now your mom threw away your best porno mag (Bust it!) 

 You gotta fight for your right to party 

 Don't step out of this house if that's the clothes you're gonna wear
 I'll kick you out of my home is you don't cut that hair
 Your mom busted in and said, "What's that noise?"
 Aw, mom you're just jealous - it's the Beastie Boys! 

You gotta fight for your right to party

analbirth · Post by **analbirth** » Sun Nov 24, 2013 9:30 pm

There was a small gathering of 2 garden g nomes this moaning at a place where the King meets the Woman and low tidal sand milkshakes were shared but where was the troll eh? Missing, presumed stalled at the intersection of fairy lights & carbon monoxide , lost in a transition of needles & damaged undone perhaps working for the betterment of humanity and ToekneeAbbButt

someones got to do it but that someone aint me tra la tra la

kneehighdesigns · Post by **kneehighdesigns** » Tue Nov 26, 2013 2:52 am

a gather we shall before the dawn of the fair lights and the arrival of the red clad clown of the seasons end !!

analbirth · Post by **analbirth** » Tue Nov 26, 2013 12:09 pm

i say again, hearding cats mick hearding cats