In my last blog I discussed the ongoing problem of violence around Sydney nightspots, and as part of that blog I was forced of course to discuss the people who are at fault for all this violence - the bouncers.
Well I have done some research, and from what I have now learned I have to whole heartily and quite humbly say this to all the bouncers:
I AM SORRY
Yes, I apologize for bashing you with my words and I also apologize for many times saying to people ‘if there was a button that could be pressed and instantly kill every bouncer in Sydney I would press it without hesitation or guilt’, and I also apologize for then fantasizing about how hard I would laugh watching the news trying to figure out how to make it seem like a tragedy.
Why have you changed your tune David? I hear some of you ask. Well I have been doing some research and it turns out being a bouncer is way, way harder than it seems. In fact, and I think few people know this, but just becoming a bouncer requires…
Wait, wait, I interrupt this blog for a bit of breaking coincidence I just have to share. I am currently sitting in a coffee shop writing this, and out the window a man just arrived who is currently drinking a beer the size of a small cow, that isn’t in a brown paper bag, adjacent to a public park full of playing kids, and is now standing over three guys trying to conduct a meeting and creepily staring at them. Then FIVE cops walked past, all kitted up with every baton and taser imaginable, this ONE day after the State Government announced new laws making it easier for them to deal with public drunks, and they just looked at him and did or said NOTHING. Wait, now he’s yelling at the meeting. Hmm.
So like I was saying, there is NO problem with drunks in this city, it is ALL the bouncers fault, and I have to apologize to them because I have now found out how hard it is even to become a bouncer.
Surprisingly the journey to this particular career path starts at birth. To become a bouncer you must be born really, really stupid. And I mean REALLY stupid, it is a tough window you must hit, because sadly if you are born with slightly MORE intelligence than your average bouncer has you will probably end up being institutionalized for being mentally handicapped. And that destroys careers before they even begin. And being born this dumb really does take some luck. It helps if your mother’s birth certificate somewhere includes the words ‘possibly a girl'.
For those dumb enough to avoid the institutions the journey has just begun, and it is far from smooth sailing (a sport they will never understand - ‘but when I am in the bath I sink in the bath, why don’t those boats sink in that big, big bath mommy’).
If they manage to make it into adolescence without drinking drain cleaner, forking the toaster, or taking an iron into the bath trying to figure out sailing, they will eventually find themselves identified as 'having literally no possibility of contributing anything positive to society ever' it is now time to undertake a dangerous and invasive operation where the parts of the brain that house ‘compassion’, ‘common sense’ and the word ‘sorry’ are cut out and fed to pet snakes.
Now they must navigate school, this is a minefield (things that often kill off potential bouncers - ‘really? This is ‘mine’ field, I want to run all over my field mommy’). During school they must get all the bully training they can, and really develop a hardcore passion for physically hurting people, but not so much that they get expelled, forcing them into violent crime and ending up prematurely in jail (most bouncers are not encouraged to earn a jail spell until at least the age of 22, any younger and they themselves will become the bullied and that can rekindle a long lost spark of empathy, an emotion that sadly can't be cut out and fed to a snake, or exist in a bouncer).
If they get through this, and few do, it's time to learn about the intricate skills of bouncing (also if you want your kid to grow up to be a bouncer you must ensure that he never goes anywhere near a jumping castle when he is a kid, the word ‘bouncing’ to him must ONLY conjure images of violence. If he does get invited to a party with a jumping castle make sure he goes in there holding a hunting knife ‘why is all my blood not on the inside of me now mommy?’ – So you’ll know how people are supposed to look if they want to have fun in a club son.)
Bouncer tribes, like most evil cults, have a distinct set of commandments they must know inside and out:
1. If it has a penis it is too drunk to come in.
2. If it has tits it is allowed to puke into a puppy’s face and still come in.
3. Pay bribes to cops BEFORE you bash someone for nothing.
4. Put on pants BEFORE you put on shoes, it’s much more efficient.
5. Remember the cops want to bash people for nothing too, make sure you just antagonize some to the point of wanting to fight.
6. All men’s shoes are wrong.
7. Once a week laugh and laugh while setting a box of puppys on fire that you’ve stolen from a cancer kid that was given to him to cheer him up after his dad died in a botched attempt at a bone marrow transplant on the day he found out Santa wasn't real.
8. If you must experiment with irons in the bath unplug them for god sake.
9. Punching people in the face is fun.
10. Why does my brain feel hollow, is there bits missing?
And that’s it. It usually takes them a few months to look up all those words in the dictionary so they know what they mean (‘what does ‘botched’ mean mommy?’ – ‘It’s what the doctor did to my boob job son, that’s why I have sex with 24 year-olds in the toilets at your job’) and then a year or two to memorize the list, but then they are free to stand in front of nightclubs. It’s shocking isn’t it, I had no idea getting that job was so hard.
So all I can say is sorry for being so hard on you bouncers, you’ve had in tough. Wait the word ‘sorry’ has been physically removed from your brain, um, how can I explain – it’s like wanting someone else to feel better about something you’ve done, you know almost like the opposite of bashing them for no reason.
As for you patrons there is hope for you too. If you want a fun night out you can party in almost any other western city in the world and bouncers will for the most part help you have a fun safe night (also known as doing their intended job). Or if you are stuck in Sydney consider this easy trick - just cut a small square of blank paper, write P.T.O. on one side and then also P.T.O. on the other side and hand to bouncer and before he’s managed to escape the trap you'll have already had a fun night and will be half way through a late night kebab.
As for me I am going to stop complaining about bouncers and instead try and walk home without this drunk outside puking on me, maybe I’ll just hand him a puppy.
‘Where is my puppy mommy?’
‘I gave it to a guy to give to a drunk to puke on, trust me, one day you’ll get your revenge, oh yeah, you’ll get your revenge, also damn you hurt coming out of my penis hole son! Also if you go to the toilet at work tonight make sure you say hi.’
Life is short. Or perhaps it lasts for a really, really long time. No one is really sure. Which sucks. If they can't figure that out definitively then what else don't we really know? The perfect size for a jar? What a fuckin' miserable thought. Fuck that. Instead here are the silly, weird, unhinged, absurd, silly, stupid, completely unrelated to hinges (moslty), poorly edited, outpourings and thought vomits of a silly idiotic teddy-bear of a dickhead. Staring David 'Pinky-Von-Sox' Tieck
Thursday, September 8, 2011
A HUGE apology by me (and other capitalized words)
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