Volition

It is 23:32 on a Sunday night.

The "entertainment" for the street party for the Adelaide V8 car-race-thing outside my front door is playing Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport loud enough that there is nowhere I can go to avoid it.

I can only assume it is to keep all of the dammed drunken redneck V8-car-driving morons in a state of stupor such that they don't realise that it's all a con - that the event is a load of shite, that the beer they're drinking tastes of cat-piss (and is made from fish-meal), that they've just wasted four whole days of their lives following a meaningless pursuit that only proves that they aren't even fit to reproduce.

Thank christ it's over. Now I just need to wait several hours for the slobbering fuckers to disperse and several days to be able to get anywhere in the city again.

ARRHGH!