Things were different back in 41’.
Ol’ Pa Brisdog merely benched the de-boned corpses of wild hogs, and that was after bashing their midriffs for 12 x 7 minute rounds.
He would bind two equal sized corpses with a hard-timbered pole and bench press the pulverised corpses for several hundred reps until the pole would snap. Then use the sharpened wooden steaks to flog my father and his now deceased brother Uncle Geoffrey, anyway...
Around this era there was a utopian harbour in Hawaii. Pearl Harbour to be exact. A peaceful, restful place for the well-to-do residents of the western states of the US who had survived the depression and taken their few survived pennies to a fine vista to live out their final years in serenity.
Japan wasn’t a country of real importance at the time. Sure, their Geisha’s were hot (if you chose the female variety - boy oh boy a few got it wrong). Their food was interesting, but really, no one gave a f**k.
That was until the fateful day of 7 December 1941. Wars were played in a reasonable gentlemanly fashion in these time’s. White flags were waved when things became too hard (the French - Geelong). Large attacks (Barbarossa) were well advertised, respected, and ultimately victorious.
No Pearl Harbour was something different. It was what one way may declare ‘ungentlemenly’ as Whitten described it, warming up for the Footscray under 12’s in 41’.
The defeat, our demise, the slaying, raping and eye-reconstruction that incurred to our heroes on 18 August of 2019 was our Pearl Harbour. I witnessed the horrors.
3 April 2020 is our ultimate revenge - our Hiroshima. It is time to end their club, their entity. I want to smell them melt.
Ol’ Pa Brisdog merely benched the de-boned corpses of wild hogs, and that was after bashing their midriffs for 12 x 7 minute rounds.
He would bind two equal sized corpses with a hard-timbered pole and bench press the pulverised corpses for several hundred reps until the pole would snap. Then use the sharpened wooden steaks to flog my father and his now deceased brother Uncle Geoffrey, anyway...
Around this era there was a utopian harbour in Hawaii. Pearl Harbour to be exact. A peaceful, restful place for the well-to-do residents of the western states of the US who had survived the depression and taken their few survived pennies to a fine vista to live out their final years in serenity.
Japan wasn’t a country of real importance at the time. Sure, their Geisha’s were hot (if you chose the female variety - boy oh boy a few got it wrong). Their food was interesting, but really, no one gave a f**k.
That was until the fateful day of 7 December 1941. Wars were played in a reasonable gentlemanly fashion in these time’s. White flags were waved when things became too hard (the French - Geelong). Large attacks (Barbarossa) were well advertised, respected, and ultimately victorious.
No Pearl Harbour was something different. It was what one way may declare ‘ungentlemenly’ as Whitten described it, warming up for the Footscray under 12’s in 41’.
The defeat, our demise, the slaying, raping and eye-reconstruction that incurred to our heroes on 18 August of 2019 was our Pearl Harbour. I witnessed the horrors.
3 April 2020 is our ultimate revenge - our Hiroshima. It is time to end their club, their entity. I want to smell them melt.
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