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Friday November 3rd, 2006

The Dinki-Di Male Hijab

"Every day, priests minutely examine the Law
And endlessly chant complicated sutras.
Before doing that, though, they should learn
How to read the love letters sent by the wind
and rain, the snow and moon." 
~ Ikkyu ~


Hi folks,

Just when you thought it was safe to hang up your Woody Guthrie folk singing-activist 'This Machine Kills Fascists' gee-tar, along comes George W Bush. And just when you thought it was safe to mothball that burqa and start almost (but not quite) believing all that 'Feminism Is Dead' hokum, you get the Australian Mufti Show.

The Mufti Uncut

" The Al-Rafihi scholar says in one of his literary works, he says: If I come across a crime of rape - kidnap and violation of honour - I would discipline the man and teach him a lesson in morals, and I would order the woman be arrested and jailed for life. Why, Rafihi? He says, because if she hadn't left the meat uncovered, the cat wouldn't have snatched it. If you take a kilo of meat, and you don't put it in the fridge, or in the pot, or in the kitchen, but you put in on a plate and placed it outside in the yard. Then you have a fight with the neighbour because his cats ate the meat . . . . . Right or not?
If one puts uncovered meat out in the street, or on the footpath, or in the garden, or in the park, or in the backyard without a cover, then the cats come and eat it, is it the fault of the cat or the uncovered meat? The uncovered meat is the problem! If it was covered the cat wouldn't have. It would have circled around it and circled around it, then given up and gone.
If she was in her room, in her house, wearing her hijab, being chaste, the disasters wouldn't have happened. The woman possesses the weapon of seduction and temptation. That's why Satan says about the woman, "You are half a soldier. You are my messenger to achieve my needs. You are the last weapon I would use to smash the head of the finest of men. There are a few men that I use a lot of things with, but they never heed me. But you? Oh, you are my best weapon." Excerpt from 'the Mufti', Sheik Taj Din al-Hilali's Ramadan sermon at Sydney's Lakemba Mosque last month. Full transcript of his speech: speech

What the flock is a Mufti? Is that above or below rank from an Ayatollah? Is it senior to an Iman? Is it more comfortable than an Ottoman? (boom boom!) Do you prostrate to Your Mufti? Sounds like something you use to keep a teapot warm. Or slang for the Tasmanian Triangle (where many a lost libido has disappeared without trace. ie. I'd really like to Stanley and Livingston it sometime through your Mufti.)

It isn't saying much for a life spent studying Religion, whether it be Islam, Christianity or Aussie Rules footie, if one glimpse of Circe's exposed buttock turns men into pigs. And how unimaginative to refer to women as Uncovered Meat. Is that the best metaphor two thousand years of Islamic poetry can come up with? What happened to all that Sufi influence, like Hafiz, Rumi and Lalla. (Lalla who had hair down to her waist and roamed stark naked in the 15th century reciting her verses was the Grandmother of the Sufi Uncovered Meat Tray, folks!)

And, logically then, does a Vegetarian Mufti have a problem with Uncovered Vegetables? What's the metaphor for the male in that case? The Boll Weevil? The Corn Borer? The Cabbage Grub? The only uncovered thing I can see around here which poses a Clear and Present Danger to my sanity is the Mufti's Uncovered Meathead. Not only is this way of thinking obviously insulting to women - but also pretty ignorant of our feline friends. How many cats do you know that would circle around a plate of eye fillet covered with a Black Tea Towel, and then just give up and go away. Yeah right! Someone either should send the Mufti back to Sufi Poetry 101, or arrange a blind date for him with Germaine Greer for a little Tasmanian Steak Tartare - or else just give him a couple of big ugly cats. A few years of coughing up hair balls (from either the cats, or Sister Germaine) and he might choose his words more carefully.

I had a great time at the Yungaburra Folk Festival this weekend. At the staff party on the final day, I was talking to a very open and wide-eyed volunteer, named Cecilia, behind the catering counter, who was telling me how she used to be into extreme sports like snowboarding. She was a joy to talk to so when someone announced over the microphone to give the volunteers a hug for all the work they had done, I went over to Cecilia and did my duty. She looked at me like a doe in the headlights and said, 'What do you Believe in?' I stepped back and said, 'Exqueeze me?' She asked if I believed in God. I said . . . after a pause . . . " Of course . . . just like I believe in Infinity Plus One." It turned out that St. Cecilia and several others were fair dinkum Born Again Missionaries. (Man, can I pick 'em!) I asked if she was aware that George W. Bush was also a Born Again Christian and exactly how did she differ in her beliefs from ol' Billybob Bush? She didn't comment right away but eventually remarked that at least they had a Christian in the White House. I said that, well, in no way, shape or form is Bush a Christian in any Christ-like sense of the word, as I understand it. That, in fact, Bush was trying to be both Christ AND Caesar in one, which was clearly an impossible task. So I left young Cecilia with another handy little formula to remember as she travels on her zealous path to Infinity Plus One: Christ + Caesar = Judas.

Speaking of giving others advice, I picked up a great little book at the local Yungaburra Saturday flea market called, 'For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Expert's Advice to Women.' Here's a little historical reminder for the young folks:

" Women made up 85% of [witches] executed - old women, young women and children. The charges leveled against 'witches' [also known as 'difficult women'] included every misogynist fantasy harboured by the monks and priests who officiated over the witch hunts: witches copulated with the devil, rendered men impotent (generally by removing their penises - which the witches then imprisoned in nests or baskets), devoured newborn babies, poisoned livestock, etc. But again and again the 'crimes' included what would now be recognized as legitimate medical acts - providing contraceptive measures, performing abortions, offering drugs to ease the pain of labour. In fact, in the peculiar theology of the witch hunters, healing, on the part of a woman, was itself a crime. As a leading English witch hunter put it:

'For this must always be remembered, as a conclusion, that by Witches we understand not only those which kill and torment, but all Diviners, Charmers, Jugglers, all Wizards, commonly called... wise women... and in the same number we reckon all good Witches, which do no hurt but good, which do not spoil and destroy, but save and deliver... It were a thousand times better for the land if all Witches, but especially the blessing Witch, might suffer death.'"
- from 'For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts' Advice to Women,' by Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, Pluto Press, 1979, London.

Dinki-Di Male Hijab


Because the male, despite centuries of religious teaching and banging heads on books, is STILL at the mercy of simple carnal emotions, with the low mentality of alley cats and unable to resist the allure of the opposite sex (and in many cases, the same sex) showing anything more than eyes or an ankle, I have taken it upon myself to invent - in my shed temple - a simple Aussie solution to temptation for our incorrigible brothers: the Dinki-Di Male Hijab.

The advantages of the Dinki-Di Male Hijab are many:

1- Uses less fabric than the woman's hijab and can actually be constructed from the left-over eye opening bits.
2- If worn correctly, it completely removes the offending visual temptation.


3- Costs a fraction of the price of the woman's hijab.
4 - Makes it difficult, if not impossible, if misused by a confused Jihadist infidel suicide bomber, to determine exactly where the target is.

Optional Accessories:

In the event of ancillary sensual stimuli, such as the Sense of Smell exacerbating the visual temptation, a simple accessory such as the Ali Baba's Yer Uncle Nose Hijab, can be mixed and matched. Comes in assorted matching colours: Shadow Black, Midnight Black, Nightshade Black, Soot Black, Thick-as-Coal Black or Black-is-the-New-Black Black.


In coming months, we will be offering the Ewe Beauty Ear Hijab, also known as the Silence-of-the-Hilal-Lambs Hijab. Collect the complete set!

Warranty: The Dinki-Di Male Hijab is guaranteed to eradicate all temptation to the following stimuli:
Uncovered Meat, including camel, chicken, duck, pork, beef, rabbit, mongoose, most big game, and small bush rodents, and of course, kangaroo. Also works on Uncovered Vegetables including carrot, celery, eggplant, peeled onions, beetroot, cabbage, and most of the brasicas. Will also work against Uncovered Tofu and Bean Sprouts. 100% camel-back guarantee or your Sin completely refunded. Order the Dinki-Di Male Hijab now and get the Ali Baba's Yer Uncle Nose Hijab for absolutely no extra charge. That's right! Offer good while stocks last or early Armageddon, whichever comes first.

Disclaimer Small Print: Under no circumstances, DO NOT wash garment in menstrual fluid ! Shrinkage can occur. This garment is in NO WAY guaranteed, however, to remove attraction to actual WOMEN, TRANSEXUALS, NANCYBOYS, or to protect Collingwood and Juventus supporters - unless the Wearer is already dead. If intended for this use, please insure power is turned off.


Hi Joe,
I hope you don't find this presumptuous, but I was wondering if I could have the lyrics of Guantanamo Bay? I've been telling people with delight of your creation, play a bit of uke myself and would love to sing it around a little. Your performance [Yungaburra Folk Festival] was a bloody delight, beautifully irreverent, ranging from poetry to gentle diatribe to Bach. Great stuff. Regards Steve B.

(Note: I appreciated Steve's comments and sent the lyrics and the chords to Guantanamo Bay to him. It is a rousing sing-a-long in performance and feels good and naughty to sing a song that is currently not allowed to be recorded. I encourage everyone out there to have a go at it. The lyrics are on my website lyric page and the chords are simply C, F and G, (or F, Bb and C) like La Bamba. Even though the publishers wont give permission to record it (YET!), we can still sing it out and possibly break through in other ways!)

I think this person [below] clarifies matters nicely. Bill Lempke
'The question has been asked, "Why vote for the Democrats?" So I thought about it. Well, as a 30 year registered Independent it isn't about fixed and dilated party loyalties. And since I have no allegiance toward corporate America's apotheosis of The Illegals it certainly isn't their position on immigration. The economy? Both parties have always received too much credit and/or blame for this so that's a push. Gas prices? The last time I looked it was called OPEC not GOPec. Although I definitely see the resemblance.
Why then? Why vote for the Democrats? It's simple really. You vote for them, if for no other reason, than to wrest the reins of absolute power from the messianic prom kings and cottontail gunslingers from Planet PlayStation who have exploited the bravery and patriotism of their fellow countrymen and women, willing to sacrifice their lives for a noble cause, and thrown them into a ginned up cockfight that doesn't possess the strategic sophistication of a sandlot football game.
You vote for them to clear the air of the beige miasma called "family values" being pumped into our living rooms by the legions of patrician pols and Cheshire martinets that would choke us with this hot air while ignoring the heavy breathing that is steaming up the windows in their own glass houses.
You vote for them to show these power pimps and the rest of the world that, despite recent evidence to the contrary, this is still a country of the people, by the people and for the people. That's why. AlphaMutt '

RE: Joe Dolce's Somewhat Unusual View about Heather Mills McCartney (from last week's newsletter)

" Well, first let me say that the Joe Dolce Peace and Love Weekly always makes me THINK. And that is something many leading newspaper columnists don't succeed in achieving with me! And I applaud Joe's cast of mind. He never swallows accepted wisdom. But here, I have to say that I am not fully with him.

Oh sure, I was always a Lennon man too (and took sides, as one did 35 years ago, against Macca) and always preferred the nutty Yoko Ono to the preachy and (seemingly) vaguely sanctimonious Linda Eastman. And I agree that Sir Paul is the antithesis of "cool", and that much of his self-written oeuvre is the blandest shade of bland. But, that said, I cannot buy-into JD's view of our Geordie friend. Oh for sure, I agree with Joe that there is something nauseating about the tabloid press (strike the word "tabloid: insert the words "popular AND quality") trying to demolish someone on moral grounds, when most newspapers exhibit precious little in the way of sound moral behaviour themselves! And what does it matter a jot that she used to sell her body for money? Or manipulate the press (as she clearly does)? It does not. But it DOES matter that she would seem to be someone who has not just been guilty of prevarication when she re-invented herself, but when doing so, has actually strayed from prevarication to FABRICATION. She has told one whopper after another. And it is THIS that made her bad news for McCartney from the first moment. It was obvious that if she could lie to half the world, she could lie to HIM too. Yoko Ono, I think, for all her eccentricity, basically dealt in FACTS (albeit, bizarre facts). But, my dear Joe, forget MY views. Just read this open letter to Paul McCartney by the man she jilted." Dai Woosnam

Focus: Heathered - by the Former 'Mr Mills'
The Sunday Times

In a knockabout letter to Sir Paul, Chris Terrill, the man Heather left for the former Beatle, says all is forgiven (just) and that he's playing Sgt Pepper again . .

" [Dear Paul] we have never met. There has been no reason for us to meet. We are from different worlds and have very little in common. The differences between us are many and obvious. You are one quarter of the most famous combo the world has ever seen and have written some of the best-known and loved songs in history. I know four chords on the guitar and can only sing off-key (a talent I am quite proud of). You are globally famous. I am quite well known in my office. You are fabulously wealthy. I am a freelance filmmaker - so say no more! You have a knighthood. I have a certificate confirming I completed the London marathon. You like tofu. I don't. Yet, we do have something that connects us. We fell in love with the same woman. More than that - we loved her at the same time. I am the bloke Heather left in the lurch for you five years ago. " letter

(Note: Dai, interesting letter, mate. But everybody lies about something and I never trust anything an ex says anyway. Especially the one whose been done left. Too much baggage - and desire for revenge ('a dish best served cold'.) Jane Asher refuses to even discuss Paul at all. Now she makes cakes: site And John Lennon's first wife, Cynthia Powell has gone from bad-mouthing to good-mouthing John, changing her name when she married John Twist and then back to Lennon when they divorced! (Couldn't have anything to do with the many books she has written and even the Liverpool Lennons website, could it? Her latest book, while portraying John in a good light, is cryptically called 'A Twist of Lennon', with the obvious play on words, but also another strange combination of her last two surnames!) Ok. Everybody has to make a quid. The Beatles have enough quids to go around. But last time I looked, Paul McCartney was a big boy. He's legally of age. He's over 64. He's been with some serious women, and serious financial advisors. He's much older than Heather is so I sincerely doubt that he didn't know what he was getting into. (Of course, listening to some of Paul's lyrics, I could be wrong here.) I also think he had his eye on Heather's Mufti instead of the Abbey Road. And all this media vitriol sounds suspiciously like bottom feeder DIVORCE LAWYER TALK to me. But your letter has awakened something tender in me and I do feel a little sorry for him too, I guess, so I plan to record his song, 'For No One', on my next CD as a form of atonement. For as someone said recently, 'Poor Macca. Divorcing a one-legged prostitute who accuses him of wife-beating and he's still the boring one out of Lennon and McCartney.")

I know how you love your strange & interesting spam emails; well here's one for you. It's one of those Johnny-come-lately "investment recommendations" emails, but I've taken the time to actually read the fine print. It reads:
'Information in this report may contain forward looking statements within the meaning of Section 27A of the Securities Act of 1933 and Section 21B of the SEC Act of 1934, statements that involve discussions of future events. Don't rely on them. Past performance isn't indicative of future results. We received three hundred thousand free trading shares in the past. We sold all of these shares. We received three hundred thousand now. We intend to sell all three hundred thousand shares now, which could cause the stock to go down. All shares were received from the same third party, not an officer, director or affiliate. This company has: nominal cash, an accumulated deficit, a reliance on loans from related parties, the float of stock is increasing and it has no revenue in it's most recent quarter. These factors raise doubt about it's ability to continue as a going concern. A failure to finance could cause the company to stop operating. This is a high risk stock. This report shall not be construed as any kind of investment advice or solicitation.' Solid advice for any budding investor, doncha think? Regards, AB


A Wop Bop A Loo Bop A Wop Bam Bush
Little Richard Translates George W

Islamic Body to Get Rid of Mufti Role
Richard Kerbaj
TAJ Din al-Hilali is set to be stripped of his title of mufti on the grounds that Australia's 300,000 Muslims do not need a national leader.
The Australian Federation of Islamic Councils, which appoints the mufti, will vote to abolish the position at coming elections.
AFIC spokesman Haset Sali said yesterday that the new executive board, expected to be elected in February, would work to remove the position of mufti from the council's constitution because it was not relevant to Australian society.
Mr Sali said Australia did not need a mufti, nor was there anyone qualified to fit that post.
"I don't believe Australia needs a mufti," Mr Sali told The Australian.
"It needs a mufti like a hole in the head..." article

(Note: As Paul McCartney might sing, "I'm fixing a hole where the Mufti gets in, that keeps my meat uncovering . ."

Scaring the Almighty Hell
A Major Event
- By William Rivers Pitt

A lot of smart people have been saying for several years now that the number one tactic deployed by the GOP during moments of political stress is simple and straightforward: they aim to scare the almighty Hell out of the American people. Trumped up terrorism warnings, plastic sheeting and duct tape, mushroom clouds as proof ... the list is all too long, and varied only in the depths of coldly calculated depravity displayed by those who would sow fear to maintain power. A new low, it seems, is about to be reached. Staring down the barrel of potentially historic losses in the looming midterm elections, the Republicans have chosen to fall back on their tried and true method: state-sponsored psychological terrorism. In this case, the terrorism came in the form of a commercial released on Thursday that all but guarantees the spilling of oceans of American blood should the Democrats find their way to victory at the polls. article


One Hit Wonderland

I've often been asked why I am not offended at being referred to, in some circle-jerks, as a 'one hit wonder' due to the fact that 'Shaddap You Face' has been my only hit. (So far, you bozos! So far. I'm still young. . .) Well, in the REAL world where children live - not just radio station programmers and their crusty pigeon holes - there is no such thing as a one-hit wonder or a novelty song. EVERYTHING kids like is a novelty - to the adult world. And some of the greatest songs of all time were these so called one- hit wonders. I have always preferred to call them Signature Tunes. One usually identifies only one song with every artist. Frank Sinatra. 'My Way'. Tony Bennett. 'I Left My Heart In San Francisco'. John Lennon. 'Imagine'. Paul McCartney. 'Yesterday'. It doesn't really matter how many actual chart hits they have, they always end up with ONE signature song. Percy Grainger, Australia's most free-thinking composer, once said, 'Anyone can compose an oratorio, but to write one of the World's Songs is something!" He did it, too, with 'Country Gardens' - his signature tune. I'd like to think 'Shaddap You Face' has joined a rolling pantheon of memorable signature tunes. Here are just a few you may recall:

Julie London Cry Me A River 1955
Sheb Wooley Purple People Eater 1958
Ann-Margaret I Just Don't Understand 1961
The Tornadoes Telstar 1962
Frank Ifield I Remember You 1962
The Cascades Rhythm Of The Rain 1963
The Surfaris Wipe Out 1963
The Chantays Pipeline 1963
Singing Nun Dominique 1963
Swinging Blue Jeans Hippy Hippy Shake 1964
Astrid Gilberto & Stan Getz Girl From Ipanema 1964
The Reflections (Just Like) Romeo & Juliet 1964
The Nashville Teens Tobacco Road 1964
The Honeycombs Have I The Right? 1964
Glenn Yarbrough Baby The Rain Must Fall 1965
Shirley Bassey Goldfinger 1965
The Ad Libs The Boy From New York City 1965
Napolean XIV They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Ha 1966
The Capitols Cool Jerk 1966
Buffalo Springfield For What It's Worth 1967
Richard Harris MacArthur Park 1968
Iron Butterfly In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida 1968
Jeannie C. Riley Harper Valley P.T.A. 1968
Norman Greenbaum Spirit in the Sky 1970
Lynn Anderson Rose Garden 1970
Richie Havens Here Comes the Sun 1971
Brewer & Shipley One Toke Over the Line 1971
Danny O'Keefe Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues 1972
Jonathan Edwards Sunshine 1972
Commander Cody And His Lost Planet Airmen Hot Rod Lincoln 1972
T. Rex Bang A Gong (Get It On) 1972
Loudon Wainwright III Dead Skunk 1973
Eric Weissberg & Steve Mandell Dueling Banjos 1973
David Essex Rock On 1974
Maria Muldaur Midnight at the Oasis 1974
Billy Swan I Can Help 1974
Mike Oldfield Tubular Bells 1974
Carl Douglas Kung Fu Fighting 1974
Sister Janet Mead The Lord's Prayer 1974
Elvin Bishop Fooled Around and Fell in Love 1976
Thin Lizzy The Boys are Back in Town 1976
Wild Cherry Play that Funky Music 1976
Starland Vocal Band Afternoon Delight 1976
Thelma Houston Don't Leave Me This Way 1977
Ram Jam Black Betty 1977
Patti Smith Group Because The Night 1978
Boney M Rivers of Babylon 1978
Roger Voudouris Get Used To It 1979
Ami Stewart Knock on Wood 1979
Boomtown Rats I Don't Like Mondays 1979
Patrick Hernandez Born to be Alive 1979
Nick Lowe Cruel to be Kind 1979
Korgis Everybody's Got to Learn Sometime 1980
Devo Whip It 1980
Rosanne Cash Seven Year Ache 1981
Toni Basil Mickey 1982
Soft Cell Tainted Love 1982
Wall of Voodoo Mexican Radio 1982
Tom Tom Club Genius Of Love 1982
Thomas Dolby She Blinded Me With Science 1983
Moving Pictures What About Me 1983
Dexy's Midnight Runners Come on Eileen 1983
After the Fire Der Kommissar 1983
Frankie Goes to Hollywood Relax 1984
Jan Hammer Miami Vice Theme 1985

Paris Hilton Bilked by Nigerian Internet Scam
By Chip Hilton

HOLLYWOOD - Celebutant Paris Hilton has appeared before a grand jury again, this time to testify that she was bilked by a man calling himself Howgul Abul Arhu, who claimed to be an accountant with the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation. On Friday Ms. Hilton told a Los Angeles grand jury that even though she seldom has time to read all her e-mail, she read the one she had received from Mr. Arhu last fall "because the name sounded Greek." According to Mr. Arhu's e-mail, he was writing to request Ms. Hilton's assistance "to transfer the sum of $47.5 million into your accounts," but before he could do so, he would need Ms. HIlton's banker's name, telephone, account and fax numbers, as well as her private telephone and fax numbers. Ms. Hilton told the grand jury she had to go to "a lot of trouble" to obtain that information, but she had done so because she "felt sorry" for Mr. Arhu. "He said he was some kind of servant, I think," said Ms. Hilton, "and that servants aren't allowed to carry money in his country. That's why he needed me to help him get the money out of the country. I decided to send him the name of my banker in the Netherlands because that sounds like it's close to Nigerialand." The attorney questioning Ms. Hilton pointed out, "It's Nigeria, and it's in Africa." "Yeah. Wherever," replied Ms. Hilton. "But the cool thing was he said the money was going to be shared 70 percent for his company, 25 percent for me, and 5 percent for the IRS or somebody. I figured it out, and 25 percent of $47.5 million comes out to, like, one third." When she was asked if she was curious about how Mr. Arhu had gotten her e-mail address, Ms. Hilton replied, "Don't you read US Weekly? They reported last year that my cell computer thingie had been cracked by these, like, poor computer geeks. I think they're called crackers, and they live in trailers. Since then I and all my friends have been getting lots of e-mails from crackers we don't know." A spokesperson for Ms. Hilton told reporters that she hadn't lost much money in the Nigeria scam because she had gone shopping shortly before sending Mr. Arhu the particulars about the account, and by the time he accessed the account, there was only $42.27 left in it. article

(Note: Hey, I just had a thought - maybe Paris Hilton and Paul McCartney could be compatible! Or if Paul waits a few more years, he might be old enough for Anna Nicole Smith. His kids would love that.)


Joe's Congee

I love rice congee. For breakfast. Anytime. It's an authentic comfort food, up there with chicken soup and matzo balls, spaghetti and meatballs, and roast pork with the trimmings. It's also a good dish to make when you don't feel like cooking and a great way to use left-over rice which is the way I believe it was discovered. (It's surprising how many classic recipes were stumbled on the next day.)

bones from a couple of chickens
bay leaf
salt & pepper
half onion, finely chopped
little olive oil

Make stock a day in advance. Fill a large pot with water, place the chicken bones, onion, bay leaf and some salt and pepper in and bring to a boil. Remove the scum from the surface of the water. Lower to a simmer and cook for a couple of hours until the chicken falls apart. Strain stock into a clean pot, reserving the chicken bones. After the bones have cooled a little, pick off any usable bits of chicken and add to the stock. Taste for seasoning and set aside until cool. Place in the fridge overnight. In the morning, the fat will have risen to the top and solidified. Gently scoop off all the fat, place in a small dish, cover with plastic wrap and freeze. (This is called 'smaltz' and is essential for making matzo balls - but that's another dish.) Now you have a nice, fat free chicken stock.

1 cup white rice, washed
4 cups water

Make rice in advance. Add the rice to the water, in a very large pot. Cover, bring to a boil, reduce to lowest heat and cook for about half hour. The rice won't fully absorb the water but that's ok as we are going to add stock anyway.

Bring stock to a low simmer. To the already cooked rice, in the other large pot, ladle enough chicken stock over to cover and gently cook on low heat. Cook slowly for about an hour, watching it occassionally, adding more hot stock as necessary. The consistancy we are looking for is a soupy porridge, where the rice breaks down, but not as thin as chicken soup. (You need to have eaten congee once to know what it should look like.)

lap chung (dried chinese sausage), finely sliced on the diagonal.
Steam in a small covered pan, or gently fry over low heat until fat is released. Set aside.

any asian green (fresh), washed and cut into one inch pieces.
Steam for a minute, or cook gently in a little water. Keep somewhat firm. Do not over cook. Set aside.

Deep fried shallots or onions. You can make these yourself by just deep frying onion or shallots in oil and draining on paper, but it's no big deal about making these yourself. I just buy them already prepared perfectly from any Asian grocery. (If it works, don't fix it.) Shoyu or light soy saucefresh coriander, stems off fresh red chillies, finely sliced

To serve:
Place the hot rice porridge in a bowl, with some soy sauce, sliced red chillies, chopped asian greens, a handful of steamed lap chung sausages, and fresh coriander. Sprinkle some fried shallots over the top and serve, with extra shallots, chillies and soy sauce on the side.

(This week's poem is something I wrote and recited for the Yungaburra Folk Festival 'Poet's Breakfast'. No one got indigestion so I thought I'd include it here after the recipe.)


God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
(And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself)

Jung said it's all in the shadows,
That inside every dog is really a cat.
Freud said my harmonica is really a penis,
But I think he ought to see a psychiatrist for thinking that.

God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself

The last time I went to confession,
The priest was nowhere to be seen.
I heard a voice behind the curtain saying, 'Talk after the beep . .'
Coming from an answering machine.

So maybe I'll Save a Whale,
Or maybe I'll Save a Tree,
Or maybe I'll save all the cards and letters
From the people that're trying to Save me.

God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself

I went to visit the doctor,
Just to see where I was at.
He wrote himself out a twenty page prescription
Then dropped dead of a heart attack.

So I went to see my Naturopath,
Because I felt like something to eat.
He said, 'Say Ah . . ' and he placed on my tongue
A communion wafer made of whole-wheat.

God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself

I went to meet my bank manager,
To see about a loan, for my habit.
He asked for some collateral, I showed him my monkey,
And that son of a bitch tried to grab it.

So I grew me a long pigtail,
And I memorized the Little Red Book.
I went to two Communist rallies,
And now, well, I'm working as a Chinese cook.

The moral of this story,
An old stockman once wrote,
'You can lead a horse to water, you can't make it drink,
But you can put a lot of salt in its oats.'

God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself