Artigos

automatic safe dog by jet mcdonald

In this, his extraordinary debut novel, Jet McDonald has created a heady brew of volatile cocktail ingredients. Madcap surreal humour blends with vicious parody of the world of work, the vanity of “Creative” types, the torments of unrequited love, animal cruelty and the excesses of consumer society. Words and sentences undergo some kind of alchemy under McDonald’s reckless stewardship, he whips them up into little frenzies like performing pooches and makes them jump through the burning hoops of our open mouths and frazzled brains. Not so much a breath of fresh air as a snort of something industrial, read this book and become initiated into a rebellion of the mind that will leave you inspired and laughing with exhilaration.

from the editor

Sense is the enemy of change and nonsense is the powder keg of disorder.

Jet McDonald

Amazing (SUPER FUNNY) story. I didn’t need to say anything about this book because Allen Ashley already did a good job in the Foreword.
OH! You don’t know what Allen said – buy the book.

facts about me

paulo, cabeça

o que vai dentro da minha cabeça (versão 1.0)

  1. I’m very calm, except when I get mad.
  2. Yes, I earn my living making fun of nuns and I have already bought a cottage in Sawsea – praise the LORD.
  3. I do not personally know Rhys Hughes and I’m frightened to meet him in person; I’m sure he’s going to give me the tango. And I think I haven’t enough space at home to keep the tango alive.
  4. I love the PETA moto (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) and the PETA moto (People Eating Tasty Animals) – yes, I feed myself of sophists dialectic.
  5. I don’t like football, but if some salad have balls of cheddar cheese I will lick the balls.

há guarda-chuvas e guardas-chuvas

Odeio a chuva por me obrigar a andar com um apêndice, mas quando o guarda-chuva é um James Smith & Sons até rezo com descrença para que chova.

animais

gents resin animal heads

É uma possível prenda de anos.

se as vacas voassem

merdadois

merda de ave

“A tua sorte foi as vacas não voarem” – disseram-me.

Hoje logo pela manhã aconteceu-me um verdadeiro ataque aéreo capaz de fazer inveja a qualquer top gun.

Fui bombardeado por um pomba com um míssil balístico de merda líquida. Quando dou por mim não era, apenas, o cabelo que estava sujo, era a roupa, o livro que levava na mão, a carteira. Peguei no lenço para minimizar o problema e um fio de caca aviária descia pela testa.

Já tinham cagado em cima de mim, mas nunca literalmente. Outro animal que odeio. Vou acabar por comprar uma simples LG 21 Panther e andar sempre de chapéu; sinto que o meu zero craniano serviu de mira.

Serve-me de consolo a linda pança que evitou qualquer bombardeamento das partes baixas.