<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20563091</id><updated>2011-04-22T05:41:32.519+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Mawson Hall</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm going down to Mawson Hall
Where Penis Man sermons all.
His graffiti writ from wall to wall.
Oh, I'm going down to Mawson Hall.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mawsonhall.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20563091/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mawsonhall.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Penis Man</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08764378270813042440</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c191/Mawsonhall/pman.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20563091.post-113660531248608284</id><published>2006-01-07T12:27:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T00:21:52.256+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I can smell it down here, like rotten secrets.</title><content type='html'>Oh, I'm so glad you're here. Most people are too frightened to come past here these days. Especially after the unfortunate discovery of little Isabells body. Such a shame that was. Who would have thought those Stiendle Boys could do such things? But they're locked safely away in Juvy Prison now. Yes indeedy. I hope to hell they rot in real prison too, when they get old enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was down right terrible what they did to that little girl. Monstrous. They say that on dark stormy nights you can hear her ghost scream deep in the drains behind us. That's where they found the body you know? It's not true though. Her spirits not in Mawson Hall. How do I know? Sometimes, my friend, it's better not to ask questions. For now just believe me when I say- if it were here I'd know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You look a little scared. Perhaps we should change the conversation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your new to town, aren't you? Come now, don't feel self conscious. In small towns, such as this one, it's easy to notice. If it takes your fancy, I could let you in on many things about this town. I know things. Some things common knowledge, and many that aren't. Living down here you learn many things, chum. Secrets tend to find their way down here through one pipe or another, looking for a dark place to hide. You may think the sewrage makes this place smell like century egg. It's not the shit, it's the secrets. Almost every house in town connects in some way to Mawson Hall, and every house has flushed a skeleton or two down their dunny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not everything gets here by toilet though. Infact, most things arrive via storm water. Just last week I aquired a Checkers board after a heavy downpour. It was buried under a pile of fliers from that new restraunt that just moved into town. Chunky Chicken I think it's called. I don't suppose you have any pieces on you? Didn't think you would. But there's no harm in asking, is there? No, of course not. I love Checkers, it's probably my favourite board game. Do you play? Are you serious? "Is it like chess"? No! It's not like chess at all. This games grittier. Every piece has equal strength and in realising so has to form a mob to save itself from being overrun by its enemy. When you play Checkers, you have to be the mind behind the mob. Your subtle influence can turn the tides of war, White against Black, or Black against White. Rule the mob and you shall rule the board. It's not merely a game, my friend, it's The Game...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I recall that's the name of a motion picture directed by David Fincher. I don't know if he had checkers in mind when he directed it, but it was a wonderful motion picture. The character Jim Feingold was so honestly portrayed. I saw a facet of myself in him. It made me cry. And &lt;i&gt;nothing&lt;/i&gt; makes me cry. But I creid none the less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, look at me! I'm like a giddy little school girl in your company- all chatter and sniffles. Please don't be scared by my incessant clucking. It's been a long time between visits. I was given some time off work by my, um, employer. Well, not so much 'given' as 'forced'. I made a boo boo in the work place, now I'm stuck down here until I get called back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't misunderstand me. It's nice down here, and very homely for one with my tastes. But I get lonely so easily, and when I get lonely I get bored. And when your me, boredom is never a good thing. In big doses it's, quite literally, life threatening. I'm safe now though. Now that I'm in your company. Say thankya. Your a life saver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like you, and I would like to repay you for lending me your ear. Listen closely, friend, 'cause what I'm about to tell you may just save your skin in the weeks to come. Something's about to happen. I can smell it brewing down here in the dark. It's almost ready, my friend, ready to boil up and over our fair town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, somethings about to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something big...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);"&gt;Todays Meme: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);" href="http://fridaysfeast.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;img src= "http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c191/Mawsonhall/ff1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);"&gt; - it's a buffet for your brain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20563091-113660531248608284?l=mawsonhall.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mawsonhall.blogspot.com/feeds/113660531248608284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20563091&amp;postID=113660531248608284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20563091/posts/default/113660531248608284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20563091/posts/default/113660531248608284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mawsonhall.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-can-smell-it-down-here-like-rotten.html' title='I can smell it down here, like rotten secrets.'/><author><name>Penis Man</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08764378270813042440</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c191/Mawsonhall/pman.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20563091.post-113646037635034325</id><published>2006-01-05T22:25:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T21:03:54.986+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Come on Down!</title><content type='html'>Welcome to Mawson Hall! Don't be shy, come on down. It's nice in here. The floor might be a little damp and the walls slimy, but I assure you its safe. C'mon now. You look a little hot out there, and your starting to get sunburnt. Join me. It's nice and cool here in the dim light just before the dark. You don't have to go any further than just inside the enterance. But I think you'll want to. It's no coincidence you've arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats right, don't be shy. Have a seat on this old oil drum, mind the rust though or you'll fall right through. I'm so happy you came by. I've been so lonely down here. The names Penis Man, pleased to meet you... Oooh thats one strong grip you got there buddy. Stay a spell, wontcha, and keep me company?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 153);"&gt;Do you stay or head for the hills? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20563091-113646037635034325?l=mawsonhall.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mawsonhall.blogspot.com/feeds/113646037635034325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20563091&amp;postID=113646037635034325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20563091/posts/default/113646037635034325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20563091/posts/default/113646037635034325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mawsonhall.blogspot.com/2006/01/come-on-down_05.html' title='Come on Down!'/><author><name>Penis Man</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08764378270813042440</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c191/Mawsonhall/pman.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
