Ext User(Earl O'Neill)
11-05-2006, 08:23 PM
Greetings Tipsters
Gee, how would you like to be Zac Dawson, eh? After being monstered by
Rocca and Thompson, he looks like playing on the one-time Boy Monster at
Carrara this weekend. "Ne'ermind, eh son?" quoth Bundy Clarkson, "Ye be
learnin yr trade wi' th' best teachers aroond." Ooh, great, thinks Zac, I'm
12 years old, built like a garden rake, and I gotta go out and stand
Jonathon Livingston Gorilla, and try to keep him to something less than a
goal a quarter. Lucky for Zac, Jonno, like his club and teammates, has
kinda collapsed under the weight of premiership medallions. Naturally, that
means nothing come gameday and the first bounce, when Jonno will, in all
likelihood, trample Zac deep into the turf before standing around for a long
while wondering why what was once the Greatest Midfield EVER can't win the
ball any longer.
Time stands still for no-one. It may even be going backwards for club
presidents who want their $10,000,000 and they want it NOW! Bloody hell,
they collectively mutter, Zeus has several king's ransoms worth (like he's
got that three-quarter billion stashed in a locker down at Flinders St
station) and he ain't gonna give us change for a parking meter! Ahh, but
you don't realise, sayeth Zeus from his lofty Olympian heights, there is
game development to be dealt with, and the Futures Fund.
Ah, yes, indeed, the Futures Fund. All our hopes and dreams rest upon sound
management of the Futures Fund, which thus far seems to consist of a vague
idea that maybe buying a radio station in Melbourne could be a good idea.
Yeah, right. Zeus oughta go have a quiet word with Glenn Wheatley about the
manifold benefits, and otherwise, of buying into the radio market.
For those who came in late, Glenn Wheatley was one of the bass guitarists in
The Masters' Apprentices. He came in after their pop period (and a great
pop period it was) when they were more of a Rock Group. They played the
Myer Music Bowl to many tens of thousands of people one night and after the
gig their manager at the time came around and gave each of the four members
of the band. (wait for it.!) $10! Glenn decided then and there to become a
manager. He may have been a very good manager, but he focussed his
managerial talents on, firstly, the Little River Band (which at least
afforded him the opportunity to write some juicy anecdotes about Fleetwood
Mac's truly gargantuan drug intake in his autobio) and then, dare we say,
(cough, mumble) um, Johnny Farnham. Glenn was the driving force behind
whispering jack, you're the voice, take the pressure down, so he probably
deserved everything bad that happened to him after he borrowed heavily to
take over the Trouble Em empire. He married Gaynor Somebody, who was a bit
of a cutie in some shortlived long-forgotten soapie, bought an enormous
house and ended up losing everything and (god, this is reason for suicide)
borrowing money off the talentless Farnsie to live!!!
So there ya go, Zeus. Buy a radio station and you'll have to live off
talentless dimwits when it bites your arse off. Only Zeus won't buy it, the
AFL will, so maybe a brace of Smorgons will have to rock up to, say, Ross
Wilson's house and say "Gee, Daddy Cool really were a great band, no really!
Can we sleep in your laundry?" Then again, there is a faint chance they
might demonstrate some taste, in one way or another, and show up on Adalita's
doorstep, and get shown a spot in the backyard where they can pitch a tent
"and no coming in the house until I've gone out, okay?"
Allasame, it is good to see the club presidents actually getting a bit of
pecker happening, even if they do have to get together in a group for it.
Interesting that Sydney have publicly distance themselves from the cashgrab.
No doubt thinking of the $800,000 fine the AFL slapped Brisbane with for a
bookkeeping slipup. It's fine to be a premier, but don't let yourself get
carried away with it. Look what Xerxes did to any general that got a bit
too uppity. Or Stalin.
Anyway, we're looking forward to St Kilda meeting Geelong, West Coast
hosting Collingwood and, in a sick, car-accident kinda way, Carlton and
Essendon. Though any one of this weekend's games could turn out to be an
alltime classic.
Good luck, Tipsters
A Stop Privatisation Of Football Production.
This week's column has been brought to you with the assistance of The New
Rock!
For all the hits, check out http://bay4.blogspot.com/
Gee, how would you like to be Zac Dawson, eh? After being monstered by
Rocca and Thompson, he looks like playing on the one-time Boy Monster at
Carrara this weekend. "Ne'ermind, eh son?" quoth Bundy Clarkson, "Ye be
learnin yr trade wi' th' best teachers aroond." Ooh, great, thinks Zac, I'm
12 years old, built like a garden rake, and I gotta go out and stand
Jonathon Livingston Gorilla, and try to keep him to something less than a
goal a quarter. Lucky for Zac, Jonno, like his club and teammates, has
kinda collapsed under the weight of premiership medallions. Naturally, that
means nothing come gameday and the first bounce, when Jonno will, in all
likelihood, trample Zac deep into the turf before standing around for a long
while wondering why what was once the Greatest Midfield EVER can't win the
ball any longer.
Time stands still for no-one. It may even be going backwards for club
presidents who want their $10,000,000 and they want it NOW! Bloody hell,
they collectively mutter, Zeus has several king's ransoms worth (like he's
got that three-quarter billion stashed in a locker down at Flinders St
station) and he ain't gonna give us change for a parking meter! Ahh, but
you don't realise, sayeth Zeus from his lofty Olympian heights, there is
game development to be dealt with, and the Futures Fund.
Ah, yes, indeed, the Futures Fund. All our hopes and dreams rest upon sound
management of the Futures Fund, which thus far seems to consist of a vague
idea that maybe buying a radio station in Melbourne could be a good idea.
Yeah, right. Zeus oughta go have a quiet word with Glenn Wheatley about the
manifold benefits, and otherwise, of buying into the radio market.
For those who came in late, Glenn Wheatley was one of the bass guitarists in
The Masters' Apprentices. He came in after their pop period (and a great
pop period it was) when they were more of a Rock Group. They played the
Myer Music Bowl to many tens of thousands of people one night and after the
gig their manager at the time came around and gave each of the four members
of the band. (wait for it.!) $10! Glenn decided then and there to become a
manager. He may have been a very good manager, but he focussed his
managerial talents on, firstly, the Little River Band (which at least
afforded him the opportunity to write some juicy anecdotes about Fleetwood
Mac's truly gargantuan drug intake in his autobio) and then, dare we say,
(cough, mumble) um, Johnny Farnham. Glenn was the driving force behind
whispering jack, you're the voice, take the pressure down, so he probably
deserved everything bad that happened to him after he borrowed heavily to
take over the Trouble Em empire. He married Gaynor Somebody, who was a bit
of a cutie in some shortlived long-forgotten soapie, bought an enormous
house and ended up losing everything and (god, this is reason for suicide)
borrowing money off the talentless Farnsie to live!!!
So there ya go, Zeus. Buy a radio station and you'll have to live off
talentless dimwits when it bites your arse off. Only Zeus won't buy it, the
AFL will, so maybe a brace of Smorgons will have to rock up to, say, Ross
Wilson's house and say "Gee, Daddy Cool really were a great band, no really!
Can we sleep in your laundry?" Then again, there is a faint chance they
might demonstrate some taste, in one way or another, and show up on Adalita's
doorstep, and get shown a spot in the backyard where they can pitch a tent
"and no coming in the house until I've gone out, okay?"
Allasame, it is good to see the club presidents actually getting a bit of
pecker happening, even if they do have to get together in a group for it.
Interesting that Sydney have publicly distance themselves from the cashgrab.
No doubt thinking of the $800,000 fine the AFL slapped Brisbane with for a
bookkeeping slipup. It's fine to be a premier, but don't let yourself get
carried away with it. Look what Xerxes did to any general that got a bit
too uppity. Or Stalin.
Anyway, we're looking forward to St Kilda meeting Geelong, West Coast
hosting Collingwood and, in a sick, car-accident kinda way, Carlton and
Essendon. Though any one of this weekend's games could turn out to be an
alltime classic.
Good luck, Tipsters
A Stop Privatisation Of Football Production.
This week's column has been brought to you with the assistance of The New
Rock!
For all the hits, check out http://bay4.blogspot.com/