Jarrod Kimber's Blog, page 66
August 29, 2011
The IPL raped my daughter
And not only did the IPL rape her, but it was done in prime time, marketed like a new toy and was continued even when people seemed to lose interest.
I see why some might have seen her as being a willing participant. To an unlearned eye it could look very consensual, and that she in fact loved it. But, the IPL used cunning tricks to get her involved, so at the least it was mind rape.
Yes, I understand she is of willing age, and should be able to take care of her self, but they still used peer group pressure on her. Everyone was doing it, how can you expect her to say no.
I can see why you'd think that because she was willing to change her plans that she was as eager as anyone else, but she's not worldly. They manipulated her with shiny trinkets, she led a very sheltered life until she began travelling the world 3 or 4 times a year.
You may see her reaction to each situation as someone who is happy to be there, you're wrong, she is just the Patty Hearst in the IPLs sick uprising.
Now every other part of her life is falling apart, and you all know this is because of this brutal consensual adult mind raping.
She isn't the same as before.
Maybe she doesn't even know it, groups like this can turn you against your friends and family, they make you act differently, and its only from the outside, like I am, that I can see it.
This is wrong and barbaric, why won't the governments step in, this shouldn't be allowed to continue.
You've all seen my daughter be paid a lot of money to perform live sex acts for gaping fools. You're all complicit.
If my daughter wants to perform these acts for free, or in the privacy of a ground that is sparsely populated whilst representing her country for a far more meagre weekly remuneration, then I am ok with that.
That's what people did for generations before her, it was, and still is, the proper way to conduct yourself. But not this, anything but this.
My daughter could have been anything, her potential was limitless.
Now she is nothing more than a human receptacle for the vile IPL ejaculate.
When she does come home, you can tell she isn't really feeling anything, the IPL has abused her and left us with nothing more than faded memories of the sweet little angel she used to be.
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August 24, 2011
The Gimber Jaigh report on a review (Argus me baby)
This is basically just me and Gideon Haigh talking shit about Australian cricket for the best part of 90 minutes.
Some of you may prefer to choke a bunch of small puppies instead, which I understand, but for those of you sick enough, here we wibble about argus and shit.
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Download it here.
Available on itunes.
Here is the feed.
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August 23, 2011
August 22, 2011
RIP Rod
I remember Rod Tucker as a nuggety stubbornly annoying all rounder for Tasmania.
Everything about his cricket said no nonsense.
His bowling was spectacularly unspectacular, and his batting was more a series of grunts than cricket shots.
He was Tasmania's second hand ute, reliable, rusty, and the engine always started even if it never purred.
As an umpire he was a bit average, and by average, we mean ordinary, and by ordinary we mean, not all that good at all.
That said, the man wore a hat well, few umpires ever look that good in a hat, but Tucker had the strong forehead needed to pull off a wide brimmed hat, and he was never overcome by it.
People who know him rarely said a bad word about him.
Cricket has lost a good man today. He was survived by his partner, Simon.
In other news, Sachin fails to make his hundredth hundred after making it into the 90s.
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keegan meth, hopefully he got some teeth
Keegan Meth is perhaps the greatest name I've heard in a week, maybe longer.
And then this happened.
Yes, that is is tooth, where is the superslowmo camera and crappy classical music when you need it.
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August 21, 2011
August 20, 2011
August 19, 2011
Ding Dong the Hilditch is dead
Andrew Hilditch will go down in history as some guy who did some things.
Good for him.
Perhaps in ten years with then gaping puss ridden wounds of Australian cricket have healed, people will look back and say, "hey, that Hilditch was fun, why can't we have fun people like that now".
Of all the chairman of selectors I've grown up with, he was the one most likely to be found in a back alley in Adelaide, naked, stabbed, pissed on and generally defiled by some spinner who was done over.
Perhaps that will be Hilditch's lasting legacy, showing us that via picking people who are just not ready for test cricket, and then fucking them over, you can send a Beau or Nathan into a spiraling shitfall of despair.
He's less a selector and more a social activist, showing us what can go wrong with society through elaborate 5 year pranks.
It's only fair to Hilditch that you pause to remember the good times.
Are you finished, good.
The entire mess that Australian Cricket finds itself in wasn't Hilditch's fault, no man has given his employers more reasons to fire him than Hilditch.
You could argue that Steve Smith playing as a number six was Hilditch's attempt at Cricket Australia assisted seppuku. It was the loudest and saddest cry for help, tear and urine stained Hilditch publicly wept, and no one did a thing.
Waugh and Border are not known as sympathetic men, but rather than cover up for Hilditch's many, many errors, they have done the kindly thing and gently pushed him out.
Sure it would have been more fun if Border broke into his house at 2AM and beat him to death with a Duncan Fearnely, but sadly those days of Australian cricket are over.
Hilditch's demise is a weird moment for me; I spent so much time pointing out his various farcical selections and statements, that I almost feel sadness on his departure.
In many ways, Hilditch was my muse, he was one of the reasons I wanted to blog in the first place, and sometimes I felt as if he was saying things just for me.
It's a personal relationship between asshole provocateur and the dude that pisses him off. I mean, without Hilditch, where would I be, who would I be, what world would we live in.
Hilditch has changed me, he made me become the bitter sarcastic shell of a man I'm proud to be. Without him I'd still be all those things, but he amped them up, and gave justification for feeling that way. I can never thank him enough for that.
As for me changing him, I'd like to think that hasn't happened. I think of Hilditch as pure form of Hilditch, unaffected by any outside elements.
For better, and mostly worse, the world needs a Hilditch, even if Australian cricket never did.
Buy my version of the argus review, it's funner.
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