“When things need dropping. Read LapTopping!”

LapTopping Issue 35
Monday 13th December 2004
** Bedroom Philosopher Triple J OzMusicShow interview tonight (Monday) between 9-11pm. JJJ FM**
Estimated Reading Time: 8:02
(The LapTopping team recognises that you are very busy and this week has just been mad)


Happy Birthday Don Johnson 55 on Wednesday!


, , and welcome to another issue of the organic lasertreat LapTopping! It is from the sincerest, most humblest subsection of the lunchbox of my heart that I thank each and every one of you who took a moment from your cherished, undulating, reflexive lives and voted for my folk comedy song ‘I’m so postmodern’ in Triple J’s net 50. On the last show of the year it reached:

49 with a bullet (a blank one)
Some bands I pipped include Radiohead, The Flaming Lips, U2, Pink Floyd, Dr Alban, Beatles, Nirvana, Mozart and the Tenorhorns.

Democracy can work. I love you all unconditionally*


Order the Bedroom Philosopher’s debut studio album ‘In Bed With My Doona’ ‘The Sgt. Pepper’s of indie folk comedy.’ $20 including postage and nerves. (email your postal address, we’ll do the rest!) laptopping@lycos.com


ON THIS DAY IN 1993 (A reading from my grade seven diary)

“Silly day. I really like sarah. She never lets on who she likes though. Came home, watched cricket. Australia cained. Spent night quiet. Okay.”



Q. What’s hot, has 10 sides and looks like the queen?
A. A fifty cent piece that’s been dropped in a toaster

Q. How many boring people does it take to change a lightbulb?
A. Well how about we just wait till one blows and then we’ll probably be able to answer that one.

Q. Why did the Beatles break up?
A. A fridge hit them

Q. What’s the difference between the year 1963 and a carrot?
A. One’s full of hippies and the other is a hip vegetable

Q. What do you get if you cross elle macpherson and a rhododendron?
A. A Med-large shrub that flowers in spring and can release its own range of potting mix.


(Can you interpret Justin’s dream?)

THIS WAS THE DREAM: “I’m hanging out with a guy I don’t really know and we’re going to some kind of outdoor audition for a porn film. A few of us are lined up, and the director is just looking at people, seeing who he wants. Suddenly I realise I’m wearing a really baggy grey woollen jumper. I start to take it off, but the director already looks at me and says ‘sorry mate.”

BEST ANALYSIS: From Matt Sertori, Hobart, Tasmania.

“well its obvious u r massively repressed sexually. the grey jumper of love is symbolic about how awkward u feel about sex. the fact there is only a guys voice in the porn dream reveals a disturbing undercurrent of latent homosexuality. catholicism has ruined forever any chance of u freeing youself from your sexual repression – your dream is full of catholic symbolism. your dream demonstates that u use humour to mask your feelings of awkwardness and not fitting in. in the dream the humourous image of you in the grey jumper says hey look I am massively uncomfortable with sex so I will never get a proper job and spend my whole life avoiding confronting my demons by becoming a comic (or in this case a porn star). In short in the dream ur like the court jester, trying to get a laugh (in an awkward surreal but slighly aussie way) as a means of avoiding facing up to certain disturbing undercurrents from your childhood which are tied up with your abandonment issues. was it your father’s voice (Its ok to cry, its ok to cry brave little man.)”

Gift ideas?
Why not purchase any of the following items
1 – Voiceworks Magazine www.expressmedia.org.au (grotesque issue out now)
2 – Going Down Swinging Book and CD www.goingdownswinging.org.au (issue 22) (contains ‘folkstar)
3 – Wordjammin’ Spoken Word CD (I’m so postmodern is on it…)
4 – Sean M Whelan ‘Love is the new hate’ (completely brilliant) email seanmwhelan@yahoo.com
5 – Tug Dumbly’s albums ‘junk culture lullabies’ & ‘idiot savant’ (go on!)
6 – Sub-Urban Poems by Lynda Hawryluk (She’s fabulous)
7 – A breadmaker you’ll never use.

My good friends Matt and Telia recently created a theatre show with a ‘sin book’ where you could write your sins! It was fun. Now you can do it online! Go to the website, click on father dick and post anonomously, or read others. Whether you are religious or not, it’s very cleansing.

e.g. ‘If my parents didn’t give me money for a bubblo bill I used to go to the closest church and steal it out of the poor box.’
‘i used to put my dirty undies on my cat’s head just to see her walk backwards. If i still had a cat, i would still do this. it still makes me giggle a lot.’
‘when i was young i secretly wished i would get cancer so i could go to camp quality because grass skiing looked cool.
‘One time my grandmother got up from her chair and I smelled the cushions.’
http://pennymachinations.blogspot.com/ ************************************************************************

The stunningly generous Verity has this tip for Melbourners –
“I have been online this morning looking for a live Xmas tree to buy this year… and I found this excellent site, that people in Melbourne should see. I think it is very reasonably priced at $38/$35 – and that $28 goes to Oxfam! The trees are delivered direct to your door by volunteers.

Let’s get metaphysical
A moment with Kerry, the metaphysical drummer!

(said quickly – high affectation on last ‘happy’)

In this age of treason we get by with a little yelp from our friends.

From the categorically delightful Kate Mcgregor, of Melbourne.

1. Sunshine (the rays, not the melbourne suburb)
2. Glitter and plenty of it
3. Dunking biscuits in my tea
4. Tintin books
5. My cat, Elektra

LapTopping accepts little responsibility for any nonplussment, disappointment, rejection or apathy experienced during a HAP-HAP-HAP-HAP-HAP-HAP-HAPPY!(TM) endorsed activity. Submit your 5-point plan to the chortle portal.
(email Bev at laptopping@lycos.com with 5 things that make you happy, or just a top 5 of any kind! And where you live. They will be published in an order determined by Bev’s powerball numbers)



STORYTIME (Brought to you by the Nicoleen Ferntrasket foundation – the inventor of the wheelchair unicycle)


October 3rd “This Is Not Art Festival – Plover Idol Finals, Newcastle”

Plover idol is named after ‘dual plover,’ an edgy, renegade, techno noise punk indie record label somewhere hard to find. For my heat, in a massive, echoey warehouse with the acoustics of a Tasmanian glow-worm cave, where subtle lyrics would be eaten whole, I decided that acoustic covers of Here’s Johnny and Rockafella Skank would get me over the line. They did. The ‘nasty’ judge told me it was cheap to poke fun at electronic music. I screamed at him, saying it was a tribute. He told me to shut up, so I stormed off stage.

I got a secret text message, telling me where to go for my soundcheck for the finals. I was the only performer there. I played ‘my nan really likes radiohead’ as a soundcheck song. One of the judges was sitting on a couch and he said ‘you could at least tune your fu$%in’ guitar.’

I left to watch my friends in a poetry slam. Swerve the organiser, gave me a secret phonecall to tell me to get there soon. I was going to walk, but my friend Hugh was getting a taxi anyway, so I got in with him and he didn’t make me pay. Thanks Hugh. I think that was a non-sequitor. What is a non-sequitor. The name of my first Spanish child.

I arrived at the pub to find a band called Train screaming, exorscising their guitars and trying to push the amplifiers off the stage. The lead singer, who was topless and bloodstained gave me a hug afterwards, saying he enjoyed my heat. I then heard reports of some of the earlier acts, which mainly involved exorscising, screaming, and one guy who went around wiping fake blood on people.

The act before me was a girl called Lt Col Spastic Howitzer did an all tapdancing, all singing routine remixing 1940’s swing songs with obscure lyrics and beats. The packed out audience adored her. The ‘tune your guitar’ judge said he was in love with her and that she’d won already.

I opened with ‘Megan The Vegan,’ a song about a girl I lived with in Sydney who I didn’t get along with. In the song, I refer to the music posse she was a member of ‘systems corrupt.’ As many members of the posse were in the crowd, the second I mentioned them, people went beresque! It turns out, the ‘nasty judge’ was actually Megan’s ex boyfriend, who was going out with her while I was in the house. He would later tell me the song had blown him away, and when I was living in the house he thought I was some quiet boring nerd. Megan was currently in L.A. doing some fashion thing.

I then played I’m so Postmodern, which went pretty well, but not as well as megan. I closed with an acoustic version of ‘come to daddy’ by aphex twin. I started out playing it like a happy folk singer, then dissolved into hardcoreness and strummed like a jackhammer and roared with a relentless cannon of rage and despair from my vaults of high school emotion. They liked this. I screamed so hard my glasses fell off.

It was down to Spastic howitzer and me. The prize was $1000 of Cd reproduction. I was about to release an album. Spastic howitzer, who’s name was anna, said even if she’d won she’d give me the prize, but for the purposes of the dramatic tension of this story, I didn’t believe her.

A girl with blonde hair kept trying to cuddle me..She’d sit sort of on my leg then urge me to sit down. She seemed very playful yet detached. I wasn’t very attracted to her. I wasn’t sure how to act. After a while she said I reminded her of her dad. I am such a stud.

The judges were arguing and fighting with the crowd. Some ‘bonus act’ got on stage and started screaming. The crowd were restless and about to smash something. The ‘tune your guitar’ judge demanded that spastic howitzer won and that he wanted to kiss her feet. Then it happened:

The crowd started chanting ‘bedroom, bedroom, bedroom.’

Fast forward 140 seconds.

I won!

I got on stage and did a brief acceptance interpretive dance, and then sat cross legged in the corner feeling like phar-lap. I got a ‘touchdown’ from one judge, while ‘tune your guitar’ had his head in his hands.

I got to do an encore. As there were suddenly a lot of technical difficulties, I walked into the middle of the crowd. Stood on a table, gave an acceptance speech that incorporated my story of running around a sprinkler nude at crèche and played ‘everybody’s got the same insecurities as you’ as earnestly as I could. The crowd were hushed. I stepped down and on my way out and held out my hands so people could touch them. Some electro goth girls started tugging at my pyjama pants, half pulling them off. I pulled them back up, then lay down on the ground as more electrogoth girls scrambled over me.
‘Teat me apart. Go on. Tear me apart.’ I screamed.
‘I hate myself!’

Later on. I took my trophy and guitar back to the backpackers. Then I couldn’t find anyone. So I went to the servo and ate a pie.


To be added to this Ezine email Bev in administration on


with your email details and the last time you cried.
Last time someone cried: “Claire – This morning @ the int. arrivals gate @ the airport”
Back issues of LapTopping are still available.
To be removed from this Ezine reply with the subject line “Clarity starts at home”


Order the Bedroom Philosopher’s debut studio album ‘In Bed With My Doona’ ‘The Sgt. Pepper’s of indie folk comedy.’ $20 including postage and nerves. (email your postal address, we’ll do the rest!)



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* Editors wish to express unconditional love is not only reserved for those who vote in internet radio polls.