Ms Facebook Mumma

The Human Zoo - Ms Facebook Mumma

Dani spent 9 months slow cooking a little bundle of Facebook irritation. Her little angel’s day of birth marked the happiest day of her life, and the day she became an ISIS-grade Facebook terrorist. “Dani added a new life event: had a child”. An ominous prelude to the tidal wave of baby shit that was going to smear your social media Huggies. 

Dani’s baby related Facebook carpet-bombing started off as a light assault on your care levels. A few posts a week showing her precious angel rolling around and acting disturbingly similar to how you conduct yourself while in the grips of some heinous hangover. This was the infant calm before the baby storm. On a bleak Friday afternoon Dani loses her fucking mind and posts a picture of her little munchkin's shit stained nappy, “Oops little bubba made a mess haha xoxo #blessed”. Lord have mercy.

Everyone elses childling is a bald headed little piss pot, but Dani’s bubba is a supermodel, actor and comedian all rolled into one ray of sunshine that insists on glaring out your eyeballs while you try to drive down the road of patience. After the shit-gate incident, Dani tones it down a bit and posts a video of her sprog crying like a teenage girl at Justin Beiber’s coming out party, “oh mr grumpy bum is grumpy! haha xoxox #NewBornThingz”. Watching the video is as enjoyable as having breaky with your Tinder date’s family after a night of un-lubricated love making.

Months bang on and Dani’s Facebook posts starts to turn sinister, “LISTEN, whether I vaccinate my child is MY CHOICE and anyone who says otherwise can suck eggs - feeling angry :@ :@ :@”. It is unclear whether the update was born in the pits of self righteousness or plain ignorance, nevertheless, Dani has read some articles and by virtue of procreation is an expert on the subject. She argues mercilessly with everyone who comments on her post. Turns out churning out a placenta is tantamount to education these days.

The winds of temperament change as fast as they gust, and within 2 hours Dani is back to sharing "totes hilar" baby memes from the cutest bowels of Facebook. If you want to experience the pains of childbirth, reading Dani’s page is a good start.

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Ms Anti-Vaccine

The Human Zoo - Ms Anti-Vaccine 

Living under a dumb-cunt rock her whole life, Karen was never fully equipped to wrap her head around the complexities of vaccine science. Karen’s life views are warped by a tinge of crazy, the sort of crazy you see from an American chanting at a Freedom rally. She simply will not entertain the notion that the delivery of a deactivated virus can have any long term health benefits. In her words, “there is nothing a vaccine can do that a healing crystal cant”. Fucking oath Karen.

Karen scoffs at a letter she received from her children’s school, “can you believe they want to inject our children with Autism Rodney?” Rodney is so outraged he accidentally ashes some of his cigarette into his 11am Wild Turkey & Coke. “They should keep their sticky beaks outta our business Kaz, my school never tried that shit”. Good point Rodney, although, you were home schooled by your “prepare for Y2K” parents. Karen chows down on half a Big Mac she’d forgotten to eat from last night, “I’m going down there and giving ‘em a spray!”

Karen jumps in her car and drives 100m down the road to get to her children’s school. She rampages into the administration office like a McMuffin-focused Gina Rinehart at 10:29am. She spots the vice principal and goes in for the kill. “Don't you be filling my kids head with lies, the bloody preservatives in vaccines are toxic!” The vice principal takes a deep breath, “look I am no expert, but contemporary medical advice recommends vaccinating children”. Karen starts frothing and foaming, “look mister, doctors once thought the Earth was square! Keep those syringes full of bacteria and AIDS away from my kids”. It all makes sense, Karen is the Galileo of reckless parenting.

Today's confrontation has left Karen feeling enraged. She sits on her computer and gets to work smashing a 2L bottle of Pepsi Max. She posts a poorly worded rant to her Facebook:

“LISTEN!!! My kids my choicessd, keepe yore MERCURY injections away or else. No ones business except mine and Rodneys. SO ANGRY!”

Karen's friend has had enough and points out that her choice to not vaccinate her children actually puts other children at risk. Waving the red flag of logic in front of a bucking bull of ignorance is a dangerous move. Karen hammers her keyboard only stopping to ensure her mouth is stuffed with cheese & bacon balls. She is plagiarising her arguments from a X-Files hacker-cunt who wrote his website in comic sans and warns repeatedly of a One World Government. She makes a fool of herself.

As flu season approaches, Karen’s child can rest easy, her healing crystals are giving off a particularly strong aura and she just imported some anti-influenza incense that will certainly ward off the nasty little buggers. All is safe in Karen’s Willy Wonka fantasy land.

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Mr Fuck Off We're Full

The Human Zoo - Mr Fuck Off We’re Full

Denno was born in Kalgoorlie and now resides in Rockingham. He is  V8 Turbo of a man, with every cylinder firing off cretinous ignorance while releasing unpalatable emissions of carbon poorcunt-cide. Only the outline of Australia is tattooed to his back and his sense of patriotism is just as hollow. He waves the flag with no appreciation for which way the winds of tolerance are blowing. This is ‘Straya mate, and in Denno’s opinion, it’s full.

Denno is the sort of sponge that makes Chux jealous. He has survived off workers comp payments for the last 8 months. Before “he did his back in” he was one of the finest stop sign holders in the game. His ability to smoke gear in his Council ute and then talk endless shit about “muzzies, gooks and abos” was critically acclaimed by the sorts of men who perpetually smell like darts mixed with Centrelink’s carpet. “Wouldn’t believe it, a tribe of Islams waiting in Centrelink, why are we paying for them cunts to bludge!”

Not burdened with the task of earning meaningful income tax for his beloved ‘Stray, Denno spends his days drinking with a bloke who thinks Colgate is a scandal involving Gina Rinehart. Denno muses about whether to drive, but as he has only had 7 beers, “she’ll be right”. He jumps in his SS Commodore and drives like a wanker towards his dealers pad. “I’m just saying, every time some cunt turns a corner too slow, it’s an ethnic, it just always is mate”. His toothless compatriot chuckles and queries whether Denno will be chipping in for the gear this time, “nah, nah, nah mate, haven’t got me C-link coin through, ay”.

After several more beers and enough crystal to rival a Valentine’s Day sale at Swarvoski, Denno is preaching like a robed kiddy fiddler at an anti-abortion rally. “Fucking Islams and Gooks, did you know gooks can also be Islams? Lotsa cunts don't know that ay, you should check these cunts out, true blue patriots mate”. Denno loads a YouTube video of some bogan-lipsy degenerate holding an Australian Flag and talking vaguely about female circumcision and burqas. “See mate, proof! All them cunts are just fucked mate”

If Australia was run by people like Denno, we wouldn’t need ISIS, the place would already be destroyed.  

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Today Tonight / ACA Journo

The Journo receives a hot tip from an anonymous source. Apparently, a landlord in Baldivis has refused to repair a tenant's gutters. Before informing himself of any of the relevant facts the Journo knows the angle he is going to play: Perth's dodgiest landlord refuses to fix tenant's gutters and given that Summer is 9 months away, the landlord is directly responsible for the inevitable horrible bush fires that may ravage the property. That blithering bullshit is more creative than the collage at the end of Art Attack.
The Journo knocks on the landlord's door and immediately gets in his face, "you tell me how you can sit here, in a house with beautiful gutters, while your tenant will almost certainly be burned to death this summer?" The landlord calmly explains that the tenant destroyed the gutters after being stung by the wasp of dumb-cuntery and pool-diving from his roof. The Journo dismisses this argument, "always passing the buck, well the people of Australia won't stand for it pal!" The landlord gives him the finger and slams the door. The Journo has a cunt-gasm while he licks his reptilian lips, he will be able to make this landlord look a sinister as Kevin Rudd at an insulation batt convention.
On his way back from Baldivis, the Journo receives another hot tip from his producer. A Town of Vincent Ranger has told an old man that he cannot feed the ducks anymore. The Journo feels the juicy rod of opportunity stimulate his manipulative kwon hole. He is going to burn this heartless public servant. How dare he deprive a man his right to feed ducks. The Journo gets in the Ranger's face and demands answers. The Ranger scoffs like the park-golf nazi he is, "the guy was masterbating while feeding the ducks!"
The Journo is torn. He has enough footage to twist the Ranger's words and exclude any mention of the wanking. Or he can run a new story about Perth's worst sex pest. Then it strikes him, why not run both! His feature that evening is a hit: a cold heartless Ranger drives man to sexual depravity by banning him from feeding the ducks!
Turds that wont flush bob happily in the stream of cheap, fear mongering television.

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Ms Dickhead Mother

Sandra angrily storms into Dome dressed in the official uniform of the wife that hasn’t sucked a dick in 8 years: loose denim carpi pants, a plain shirt and a super practical pair of New Balance sneakers. Sandra has no time for MILF’y fashion pursuits, she is the CEO of the hardest job in the fucking world: raising kids who are more spoiled than the carton of milk that Kyle Sandilands bought in anticipation for a Cleo Bachelor of the Year nomination.
Within minutes, Sandra is berating a staff member at full volume, “what do you mean I have to pay for a babycino? Look my daughter is crying now! My daughter is crying, my daughter is crying!!!” The poor girl cops the narcissistic rage of a dickhead that believes the passing of a placenta gives her the right to stamp out the cigarette of entitlement on the face of society. “FedUp Perth will be hearing about this! Come on darlings we’re going!”.
She refuses to concede any footpath space as she forces a young couple to step onto the grass to avoid her precious entourage. She shoots them an early-menopausal bitch-stare that conveys her sinister thoughts, “how dare you find it inconvenient to move FOR MY DARLING CHILDREN!”. She continues to stampede away from Dome like a bull-dyke that just spotted a Spaniard wielding a raging boner like a spear.
She walks to her Tarago which is parked in a busy car park. She spends 5 minutes loading her screaming brats into her car and then makes an obnoxious phone call to her day-time television cunt of a friend. A lad who had been waiting patiently for her finally honks his horn. She boils over like a hormonal pot of pasta and storms towards the man like a tampon-tornado. “HOW DARE YOU!!! Now my babies are crying!! You pig!!!”
Hours later, Sandra is having lunch with her bestie. She talks endlessly about her precious little George while he demonstrates just how special he is by running around the eatery and destroying the serenity. A suited man leans over, “sorry lady, could you look after your kid? We’re trying to have a business chat?” Uh-oh…
Needless to say, the eatery is treated to a full blown bitch-Opera followed up an un-requested psychotic-encore by the mayor of dickheadsville.

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Ms "I'm Outraged"

Cynthia is a bubble-wrap cunt who wants the world to concede to the PG-rated fuddy-duddyism that she propagates from her armchaired throne. Short haired and perpetually scowling, Cynthia is the embodiment of tense, likened only to the atmosphere when Lloyd Rayney’s new girlfriend accidentally burns the snags at a Kings Park BBQ.
It’s a Thursday morning and Cynthia is surveying her fertile hunting grounds: comments sections. A magical News site that manages to double penetrate your mind with Buzzfeed quality tripe and faux-journalism that is as hard hitting as a dehydrated chode’s fifth cumshot for the day.
She spots an outrage-inducing article, “Shane Warne: are you thirsty?” Cynthia is so outraged that pieces of the poorly buttered crumpet fall out of her mouth. She cracks her knuckles and gets to work. “This is a bloody outrage, he should be a role model! How dare he promote drinking! Creepy Uncle!!!!!” What does the woman expect from a chronic sex-texter who had baked beans imported to India? How dare he suggest the lads crack a few tinnies.
A few hours later she stumbles upon another simmering pot of outrageous offence, Karl Stefanovic made racist remarks about the Indians and Kiwis! The suggestion that Indians work at 7 Eleven and that Kiwi’s are dole bludgers triggers Cynthia and she evokes the spirit of the keyboard warrior. “I have lost so much respect for Karl, disgusting comments, I will be Boycotting Karl and certainly hope he gets the sack!!!!!” Cynthia needs a badge, Detective Sargeant Poorcunt of the Banter Police.
In an ideal world, Cynthia’s outrage would be a small blemish on the face of the status quo. Unfortunately, when the outraged minority start a jamboree we are all forced to dance. Fear mongering media latch on to “outrage” like the parasitic cunt-leeches they are. Cynthia is feeling elated, she has brought some serious wrist game to today’s offense circle jerk.
Time to start up a “Boycott Sam Newman” FB page.

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