Jul 252016
Head on a swivel, Poketard!

Head on a swivel, Poketard!

Yesterday, I was driving through town in my truck when I rounded a corner and was confronted by an individual standing in the middle of the road with their back to me. Instantly, I realized this was a simple-minded victim of the Pokemon Go craze that has been sweeping the world. Jumping on my brakes, I brought my two tonnes of death sled to a screeching halt, wound down my window and informed the unfortunate individual that their presence on the road was impeding my travel. It sounded more like this, “Hey, Poketard. You got a death wish? Get the hell off the road.”

Situational awareness is something that’s drilled into every soldier from day one of basic training. Calls such as “head on a swivel, eyes up space cadet, look for work, and, my personal favorite, are you f@cking blind,” will stay with us till the day we die. Unfortunately, your average Pokemon Go player hasn’t had the benefit of getting smacked in the head every time their eyes drop to the ground. So in light of that, I’ve devised a three-step training program specifically for Poketards!

images-1Step 1: Keep it in your workspace. This is pretty simple, to operate the electronic device and remain aware of your surroundings, you need to lift your noodle arms and hold it in front of your face. Then, you look past your phone every few seconds to ensure you’re not walking into a sign, pole or another person’s fist. The training technique is equally simple. See someone tooling along with their eyes down on their device? Position something in their path, preferably a large immobile object, and wait for the results.

Step 2: Head on a Swivel. Now, you’ve got your device in your workspace, and things are humming. The key here is to remain aware of your surroundings by looking past your device and turning your head from side to side. Sounds hard? It isn’t. Quickest way to help your buddy learn this is to extend your fist and run at them from a 45-degree angle. On impact scream,”Head on a swivel Poketard!”

Step 3: Get a Life. Yep, holster that brain frying iTard and get your head in the game. There’s a big bad world out there filled with real experiences, real people and cool stuff to do and see. You don’t have to be chasing invisible Tamagotchis to explore it.

Jack out.

Dec 232015

Someone on social media enlightened me yesterday. Allegedly I have been committing a significant PC sin by wishing people a “Merry Christmas”. Allegedly the correct greeting I should be using is… “Happy Holidays”.

Seriously… eat a dick. If a Muslim wishes me a Happy Eid, a Jew a Happy Hanakah a Buddhist a Happy Vesak or any other religion a happy ‘whatever’ my response is ‘right on brother/sister’. I respect their religion and their right to use a greeting aligned with it.

People need to chill the hell out. Political correctness is a hot load of crap that generates a passive society unwilling to stand up for itself. So, if you want to wish someone a Merry Christmas then holiday the f$ck up and ride that pony to the ranch.

And, in line with the theme of a politically incorrect Christmas, Holiday Season, Hannakah or whatever you’re running with, I’m giving away a book filled with the holiday spirit of gifting copious amounts of lead to really shit people.

For the next few days PRIMAL Unleashed, my first full length novel, is available for free. So spread some freedom and enjoy the hell out of it.





Merry Christmas.



Oct 112015

I recently read an article that’s getting a lot of traction on the web regarding the amount of Toyota Hiluxs that ISIS is banging around in. Allegedly the US Government is pissy with Toyota because somehow this is their fault. Seriously, it’s like they don’t understand the basic principles of a free market. People give Toyota money in exchange for cars. Then these people sell the cars to other people and before long they’re in the hands of ISIS, the Taliban, Boko Haram, and every other black flag waving dickhead. The real question is why do the world’s worst choose the Toyota Hilux over every other option?

That question’s easy to answer… it’s because Toyotas are built Taliban Tough. No shit I’ve seen Hiluxs take punishment that other pickups simply can’t. They’ve been strafed by miniguns, blasted by Hellfire missiles, and still keep rolling.

The Taliban Love Their TOYOTA's

The Taliban Love Their TOYOTAs

Not only does the Hilux reign supreme in the Middle East it also thrives in the harshest place in the world… Australia. Aussies are notoriously hard on their pickups and the Toyota truck is the highest selling vehicle on the market. Farmers in OZ treat these trucks with even more disrespect than the Taliban.

Don’t belive me that these things are tough? Then check out this series of torture tests that the team at Top Gear put one through.

All this evidence makes it pretty easy to see why ISIS want to drive Hiluxs. They’re cheap, they go hard, and they’re pretty much indestructible. However, if ISIS wants real street cred they need to start getting around in VW diesel Polos and Golfs. They’re not only tough but they’re also polluting the world at 10 times the rate of other cars… eco-terrorism at its best.

Oct 062015

Not On Ops You Didn’t.

Tooling around the web I came across this new phenomenon being endorsed by some marketing twit called Sarah Wilson. ‘I quit sugar’ is her book and damn it’s made her wealthy as f#ck. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not adverse to people helping others improve their health. Hell I’m all for it. I’m also not against people cutting back on sugars. I personally think that High Fructose Corn Syrup is a greater threat to humanity than team retard ISIS. However, I do want to issue a warning to anyone thinking about going cold turkey on sugar.

A few years ago, while deployed on ops, I decided to pull the plug on sugar. At the time I was running a very small team that was working long hours providing vital support to door kickers. These guys were some of the smartest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with and all of them remain close friends. However, my little sojourn into sugar free living nearly ended that.


Rip It Saved My Life!!!

The first five days of my journey were dark to say the least. I got cold sweats, my hands shook, and I craved anything sweet. Sleep, when it came, was fitful and filled with dreams of donuts and Otis Spunkmeyer muffins. Seriously, they were like some kind of LSD-fueled Disney movie with angry confectionary chasing me through Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. On the sixth day a Green Beret buddy dropped off a slab of sugar-free Rip Its. That shit saved my life and kept me sane for another day.

At the conclusion of the first week my team team held an intervention. Allegedly I wasn’t the only one suffering from my sugar withdrawal. “You’re being a dick.” “For f#ck’s sake man eat a muffin or five.” “If you don’t eat some sugar we’re going to kill you.” I faced angry faces and harsh words from the guys I relied on to get the job done. It would seem that the absence of sugar turned me into a short-tempered tyrant looking for any excuse to vent. Did I fold and start consuming? Not at first. But then muffins, cookies, candy, and Timmy Hortons iced coffees started appearing on my desk. At first I resisted and the evil glares from my workers continued. Then, one day I surrendered to a packet of Twizels and before I knew it I was back on the gear. Almost instantly my team started talking to me again and the death threats ceased. Team cohesion was saved by a plastic tasting candy that I truly despise.

Why have I shared this? Do I endorse the excessive consumption of sugar? Hell no. However, like everything when consumed in moderation, it has a place. Oh, and most importantly, going cold turkey in a small team environment is a good way to get your arse kicked.

JS out.

P.S. Remember to pre-order PRIMAL Renegade so I can donate some money to help save rhinos in Africa.

P.S.S Check out these lunatic Aussies who quit sugar.

May 222015
Wow this looks like fun.

Wow this looks like fun.

It amazes me how quickly people latch on to stupid ideas and run with them. Yesterday I read an article promoting walking with a heavy pack as the #1 fitness fad of 2015. They call it ‘rucking’ and allegedly it’s how the military stays fit.

I’m baffled how people think that this is a good idea. I’ve yomped, rucked, stomped, humped, and TAB’d more miles than I would like to remember, carrying ridiculous loads and as a result I’ve got the knees of a seventy year old man.

Walking around with a pack on ... otherwise known as hiking.

Walking around with a pack on … otherwise known as hiking.

What people fail to realize is that Soldiers don’t carry heavy shit because of the health benefits. They carry heavy shit because they need it. They carry ammo because sure as hell when terry towel head starts laying down the smack you want to throw something more than a goddamn pillow at him. Water, food, night vision gear, breaching charges, mortar rounds, spare socks, med kits, radios, rocket launchers, all of this gear is heavy and all of it is mission essential. We don’t carry it so we can maintain rock hard abs and a toned arse. We carry it because it keeps us alive.

More to the point the first chance soldiers get they dump their shit in a helicopter, APC, MRAP, truck, robot donkey, or even a goddamn wheelbarrow. Why? Because carrying shit sucks balls and it destroys your body. Stress fractures, torn ligaments, compressed discs, shin-splints, sheered ACL joints, tendonitis, these are all ‘health benefits’ that civilians carrying heavy packs can look forward to.

Water boarding - great fitness for the whole family.

Water boarding – great fitness for the whole family.

But, fucktards (rucktards) do like to jump on a bandwagon. Obstacle courses were huge last year, this year it’s rucking, so what’s the next big fitness fad being lifted from the military? I think we should spread the love and go for a CIA-based activity. Waterboarding – low on calories, great for your abs and really cleans out the sinuses. Get into it rucktards!

Oh, by the way PRIMAL Redemption is out on  3 June. It’s got heaps of great ideas in it for rucktards to try out including; extreme rendition, subfreezing exposure and high velocity impact training.

Mar 242015
These people are fucktards!

These people are fucktards!

I’ve got a buddy who swears by superfoods. So much so that he’s calling himself the Superfood Warrior and trying to change the way people consume food. And, while I find that admirable, I’m pretty skeptical of the whole movement. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in superfoods,  just not kale and acai berries. For me superfoods are coffee, steak, and milk. I mean, they make you massive and keep you awake, that’s pretty damn super. Anyway, my buddy convinced me that a breakfast smoothie would be a helpful addition to my diet, especially if it contained some basic superfoods like bananas, blueberries, brazil nuts, and some other seed-like crap that parrots eat.


Kale – designer vegetables for designer dickheads!

OK, I was a little dubious but there was no mention of kale or any other hipster shit so I thought, why not? I blended up all that stuff with a pint of milk, two scoops of protein powder, and a fist full of oats, and low and behold it tasted pretty damn good. Not to mention it kept me going till lunch without my usual raiding of the fridge.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m going to superfood smoothie every day, far from it. Bacon, eggs, and pancakes are still going to make a regular appearance on my plate. And, I’m not about to start drinking  green ‘spew’elina shit out of a mason jar and riding a fixie. But, my buddy the Superfood Warrior may be on to something with his nutrient dense breakfast smoothie. It may just keep the scurvy at bay and it sure as shit is better than ninety percent of the crap people eat for breakfast. I’d prefer to piss in my own eye than spoon Captain Crunch into my mouth.

So PRIMAL heavy hitters, get a smoothie in yah!

JS out.

PS. Remember to sign up to the PRIMAL Intel database so I can let you know when the next book is out.

Dec 042014
This isn't me but, I wish it was. The dude not the chick!

This isn’t me but, I wish it was. The dude not the chick!

I live on the South Island of New Zealand, a part of the world that is in a word ‘stunning’. You’ve all seen Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit. No shit, that’s what it looks like. I mean, we don’t have midgets running around selling jewelry or dudes on flying horses or anything like that. What we do have is snow capped mountains, crystal clear lakes and mile high waterfalls. So stunning is this place that a Victoria’s Secret model could walk butt naked down the street and people wouldn’t notice… OK, that’s a lie.

So with all this beauty you can imagine how many tourists we get; literally

Middle Earth - Otherwise known as the kingdom of selfie.

Middle Earth – Otherwise known as the kingdom of selfie.

thousands. Now imagine each one taking hundreds, actually thousands of selfies. Yep, this is the land of the selfie. Now, I don’t mind selfie takers. At least they’re photographing more than just their dinner. That happens too. But the latest craze to sweep the self-absorbed, iPhone-wielding zombie horde is… selfie sticks.

What the hell is a selfie stick I hear you asking. Imagine a collapsible golf club but instead of a putter head it’s got your phone attached to the end of it. What is the point of this retarded staff of dip shitness? Well, it enables an extended reach selfie. That’s right, it lets anti-social selfietards achieve an even higher quality of self-documentation for their awesome Facebook pages, puke!

This guys is killing it.

This guys is killing it.

The first time I saw one of these poles, a narcissistic asshole nearly smacked me in the face with it. The idiot was waving it around like he was god damn Harry Potter. With his iPad-sized phone attached the thing was like a battle axe. Had he hit me it probably would have cleaved my head off. Baffled as to what this device was, I watched him and his equally self-obssessed girlfriend attempting to manipulate themselves and the pole to get an epic photo with the mountains in the background. I would have offered to take the shot but I was dumb-founded by the sheer level of idiocy on display.

This guy is a public liability and deserves a flogging.

This guy is a public liability and deserves a flogging.

When did it get too hard to ask a passer by to take a photo? Are people worried that someone will run off with their phone? Because if I wanted this guy’s phone I would have just taken the stick and the phone. Hell, if he got shitty about it I could just whip the bejesus out of him with the pole…. Maybe I just came up with a real use for a selfie pole. Drop a phone holder on the end of an extendable baton and you can probably smuggle it through customs. Boom! Now if someone does steal your phone you can smack the shit out of them.

Silkstone out!

Jul 172014

Hey team, a journalist friend of mine, Milly, helped me research my latest book, PRIMAL InceptionShe also recently published this article on PRIMAL. Check it out.


By Milly Stilinovic

Jack Silkstone, military intelligence and special ops, has dedicated a life to weeding out and roughing up those he considers to be “global douche bags”. His PRIMAL series of action thrillers focuses on a team of heavy-hitting vigilante operatives who deliver justice where governments fail. In his latest novella, PRIMAL Inception, he delves deep into the heartland of Kosovo and emerges with a confronting truth about humanitarian intervention and the wheels behind military action.

PRIMAL Inception - out soon.

PRIMAL Inception – out soon.

“They’re all dead, boss.” The man Simeon had dispatched to check on the Spetsnaz team had returned. “One car was flipped over, no survivors. The other had been shot to pieces. Fucking disgusting.”

Simeon was sitting at the table in the villa’s dining room. There was no way he was going outside again, even after Aslan’s bloated carcass was removed from the pool. He sat in silence contemplating his options.

“What do you want us to do?” the man asked.

“Get everyone packed,” said Simeon. “We’re going back to Russia. Tell the men in Dubai that we’re pulling out.”

“You sure, boss? I mean, that seems a little drastic.”

“Are you a fucking moron? Did you see what those animals did to us? They came into our territory, infiltrated our home, and put a fucking bullet in Aslan. I’m now the head of this organization and I don’t want to provoke people with that sort of capability! We go back to Russia, we lay low, and we find new territory to exploit, you hear me?”

“Yes, boss.” The man scampered away to make the necessary arrangements.

Simeon poured himself a drink from one of the bottles on the table. He wanted to get as far away as he could from this place, and from the man whose voice would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.”

With that, author Jack Silkstone cracks his knuckles and removes his fingers from the keyboard to step away from Simeon’s dire straights. He takes a swig of his own whiskey neat, having realised that his own, confronting ghosts are manifesting before him. Ghosts that urge him to use his pen, rather than a procession of high-tech weapons, to propagate a message. One that, not only Simeon but the world needs to hear – one that deals with the remains of intervention.

On Silkstone

Silkstone is a military man who has spent the good part of twelve years honing a career in military intelligence and special operations. He has worked alongside some of the world’s most elite units and within the world’s most hostile conflict zones.

“I’ve spent a lot of time overseas in really crappy places ranging from the Middle East to South East Asia,” he says. “The majority of my time was spent tracking down bad guys so that door kickers could serve out a bit of rough justice.”

His eyes have surveyed scenes of broken bodies and battered skulls, fractured societies and the impact of war on territories that have rarely known peace. He knows the feeling of attempting to save lives as death clutches at war’s latest casualty.

“I remember a moment very early in my military career,” he says. “I was a Platoon Commander in an infantry unit deployed on a UN peacekeeping mission. It was late one afternoon and we were in our patrol base when one of the locals requested help for an accident. My platoon medic, myself and some of my soldiers ran down to the local hospital to help. A truck carrying over thirty people had rolled on a narrow road in the mountains. People had been flung from the truck like dolls. Many of them had already died on the way to the ill-equipped medical center. Death literally walked among us. I could feel her presence. She snatched lives from our hands as we fought desperately to save the lives of men and women, children and the elderly. I felt like she was breathing down the back of my neck every time I knelt next to a stretcher to triage a victim. That day was an eye opener. I was a fit young man and thought I was immortal. Trying in vain to keep a five year old alive tends to remind you how fragile the line between life and death really is.”

He has also experienced the pain of separation. The moment when a soldier realises time does not stand still in the free world. When the minds of those you’ve left behind slowly succumb to the idea that you may not return. It was during his second deployment to Afghanistan when Silkstone received a Dear John from his fiancé, the name given to communiqué from lovers citing an end to your relationship.

“Rather than let it eat at me, I turned to writing in what little spare time I had,” he says. “It helped me keep my head clear and stay focused on the job.”

Through the pain of loss, PRIMAL, a series of hard core action thrillers, was hatched.


“One of my fans called the books revenge porn and I tend to agree,” Silkstone says. “They’re fast-paced, violent, emotional and they address a lot of the injustice in the world.”

PRIMAL, according to the author, is written to highlight the true intentions of those who hone careers in the military.

“We all want to take the fight to the bad guys and we all want to shed the shackles of politics and rules and just get out there and hold the truly evil to account,” he says. “We are sick of douche bags fucking over the little people.”

The fiction-based-on-fact series follows two former CIA operatives, Vance and Ice, who join forces with Tariq Ahmed, the heir to an Arab air-freight logistics empire. The trio conspire to assassinate Tariq’s father, a Wahabist extremist responsible for ‘acts of terrorism’.

“Empowered with his father’s billion-dollar empire, Tariq offers the two men an opportunity to bring a little justice to the world,” says Silkstone. “They recruit additional operatives, Bishop, Mitch and Chua and set about raising Priority Movements Airlift (PRIMAL), the cover name for the independent team of vigilantes.”

From this the series broadened in scope and sent the covert operatives to the world’s most notorious hot spots – Sudan and South Sudan, India and Pakistan, Afghanistan, Ukraine, Iran…

“If there is justice to be served and governments won’t intervene then the PRIMAL team is not going to be far away,” Silkstone says.

The sixth and yet-to-be-released installation, PRIMAL Inception, follows Ice and Vance down the rabbit hole of western foreign policy and into the war-torn hills of Serbia’s former province, Kosovo. In 1999 the conflict between the forces of the federal republic of Yugoslavia and Kosovar secessionist rebels had escalated into a humanitarian crisis. At this point, the two former CIA operatives are propping the aspirations of the Kosovar rebels.

“War criminals by any standards,” says Silkstone. “These brutal fighters are an unlikely ally in a vicious ethnic conflict.”

Two years on and the region is run by a government comprised of former rebel fighters. The territory’s political infrastructure is increasingly corrupted. The streets are run by one of Eastern Europe’s strongest mafia rings and the citizens are left to air their grievances to the ears of apathetic decision-makers. Ice and Vance are faced with a stark choice. They must either abide by the façade of stability or fight a lone battle against, what the author refers to as, ‘war criminals now turned political leaders.’

“Kosovo was classic case of large-scale intervention gone wrong,” says Silkstone. “Replacing a legitimate government, albeit oppressive, with the Albanian Mafia was not a smart move.”

While the plot is specific to the region of the southeastern Balkans, Silkstone utilises the story line to confront the larger issues policy-makers, military folk and civilians must address when faced with the potential of military intervention.

“When the intent is to minimize loss of human life then intervention can be the best option,” he says. “But, when things like politics, ill-informed public opinion and national strategy cloud the issue then bad decisions can and will be made.”

Since the post-WWII era, with liberal states taking on the duty of care, the world has seen a rise of states and transnational bodies interjecting into conflict and protecting the lives of those whose governments are unable or unwilling to do so.

Intervention enjoyed a honeymoon period in the nineties with a string of military interventions deterred aggressor states from further committing gross violations of human rights – Bosnia and Hercigovina, Sierra Leone, Haiti…

The rise of intervention spurred the former UN Secretary General, Kofi Annan to plead with the international community to manifest a uniformed approach to intervention. He aspired to create a concept that would allow for ‘more Kosovos’ and ‘no more Rwandas.’ To do so, the international community needed to reach a consensus on what actions, orchestrated by states and non-state actors, would warrant coercion. Dizzy by, what was perceived as the success of Operation Noble Anvil in Kosovo, The Canadian Government forged the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS) to compile a report that would establish common ground and a threshold that would justify action on behalf of the international community. The report, that attempted to dissolve the notion of non-interference and primacy of state sovereignty that has been upheld by the world order since the post-WW2 era, was titled the Responsibility to Protect (R2P). According to the principle of R2P, no longer would sovereignty and non-interference be a barrier for inaction when vulnerable citizens were faced with gross violations of human rights. Nonetheless, no matter how passionate Annan was to see the rights of individuals propagated as the main objective of intervention, R2P in its complete state was not accepted by the international community. The votes of those states who only had sovereignty to protect them from having their will overshadowed by the affluent assured that, at the 2005 World Summit, the execution of R2P would remain under the authority of the UN Security Council that was run by the permanent five – a body of states.

To this day, the concept of humanitarian intervention remains highly contested due to, what critics claim to be, a selective and politicised nature. This politicised nature of intervention allows states to refrain from action during large scale genocide in Rwanda in 1994. It permits the creation of an Axis of the Willing to pre-emptively strike Iraq in 2003. Orchestrated by states, or state-run bodies, intervention is still prone to being clouded by politics, interest and bias.

“It’s all about political will and strategic resources,” Silkstone says. “What does Rwanda have? Jack shit. What did Iraq have? A regime refusing to tow the party line and a fuck load of oil. At the end of the day, governments act in their own interests not the interest of the people suffering on the ground.”

Due to the interest of states shaping the outcomes of intervention, Silkstone believes that frequently the true objective of intervention is not to protect the vulnerable but to orchestrate a regime change. This state-centric approach, as claimed by Silkstone, litters history with a procession of failed interventions.

“The basic underlying foundation of humanitarian intervention should be the preservation of human life,” says Silkstone. “If it’s not then you’ve got a case of a government using it as a mask for strategic positioning. This is especially poignant when a despot is the only thing stopping multiple ethnic groups tearing each other apart. Maybe crushing that regime is not the best option.”

With regime change at the fore of intervention’s objectives, power vacuums are created which are often filled by regimes that are considered cooperative by interveners. The establishment of these regimes, considered ‘puppets’ by anti-interventionists, not only encroach on an intervened state’s right to self-determination but may not provide stability to a war-torn region that has been marred by ethnic conflict.

“Look at Kosovo as an example,” he says. “World opinion was against the Yugoslavian campaign to crush the Albanian insurgency but the reality is that the violence triggered by NATO intervention created a situation that inflicted far more casualties than the Yugoslavians ever would have. Just because governments decide to back one group over another doesn’t make them legitimate nor should it make them untouchable. Sometimes large-scale intervention is not the right model. Often political and strategic decisions need to take a back seat to common sense.”

The other option, interveners taking over the administrative responsibilities of a state by executing an interim government, further encroaches on a society’s right to freely elect their representatives. It blurs the line between intervention and occupation which further impacts on the validity of the humanitarian aspect of intervention.

“If a government overthrows a regime then occupation is necessary to replace the security and governance apparatus,” says Silkstone. “You can’t topple a regime and then provide no alternative. Iraq is a classic example of this. The Americans toppled the government and disbanded the security forces, then they were left holding their dicks as the sectarian violence spread like wild fire.”

However, the post-conflict violence that sets fragile war-zones alight with ethnic tension is, as claimed by the author, a testament to regardless of how many UN Secretary Generals plead for humanitarian-based operations, the underlying question will always remain – whose security are we really protecting?

“That’s the billion-dollar question,” says Silkstone. “At the end of the day governments are responsible for the security of their own people and their own interests. But what if we had a global entity to try and protect the security of the little guys. What about the UN? Please, the UN is an epic fail. It achieves little other than to fill third world countries with new Landcruisers and handouts of rice and plastic sheeting.”

If this be the case maybe we, the spectator, have perceived the definition of humanitarian intervention incorrectly. Maybe it is time to question what meaning we apply to the term and what actions we expect to take place in hot zones riddled with gross violations of human rights. Instead of assuming that the security of those left vulnerable in war zones is the main objective of militarily coercing a state or non-state actor into compliance, maybe it is time to consider compliance as the main objective. Compliance, based on the ideals of interveners, as a means to secure international peace and security.

“War is a tool of diplomacy,” says Silkstone. “It’s far more useful as a ‘threat’ than an action. Once war is declared only enough force to break the will of the government is required.”

While Silkstone harbours a somewhat pragmatic approach to defining humanitarian intervention, his aspirations for the concept a far more idealistic.

“In my opinion human life is more valuable than anything,” he says. “We need to balance strategic interests against the need to minimise suffering and mitigate the influence of evil. But hey, I’m just an altruistic soldier who believes in dealing out rough justice to power-mongering ass holes.”

Original article published in Sneaky Magazine here.

PRIMAL Inception is due out in August/September.

Jun 092014

The latest 2022 FIFA World Cup bribery scandal surprised no one. The fact that Qatar was voted to host the World Cup despite being a desert hellhole, raised more than a few questions about corruption. However, the rampant media coverage seems to have forgotten the real issue, the exploitation of migrant construction workers.

'Global safety standards, allegedly.'

‘Global safety standards’, allegedly.

The poor bastards are dying at a rate of one a day, with the estimated death toll prior to the World Cup to be in the thousands. Living in squalor, denied their passports, unable to access to basic medical facilities, and forced to work through extreme temperatures, Qatar is treating third world workers as disposable slave labor. Fortunately international pressure forced the Qatari government to commission an independent investigation into how they can implement labor reform, or maybe just treat workers like human beings. Additionally human rights organizations, including Amnesty International, are attempting to hold them to account. Except, who would have thought, there has been no significant change. Nope, they just keep killing more of their disposable minions. Is FIFA going to do anything about it? Not likely considering they are still backing their choice of Qatar and aren’t even owning up to the bribery scandal.

Qatar – perfect venue for the 2022 FIFA World Cup, just need to build everything from scratch and ignore the fact that no one will want to visit Qatar because it is in fact a desert sh@thole.

It’s almost like we need an independent organization to hold all these corrupt immoral douche bags to account. A covert team of pipe swinging, ninja fuckmasters immune to bribery and politics. Hard men and women willing to use any means necessary to fight for the oppressed. Before you get all excited you need to understand that these people don’t exist, at least not in the real world.  However, the exploitation of workers in the Middle East did provide the inspiration for the story of PRIMAL Origin, and yes in the story the douche bags get what they deserve. You can check out PRIMAL Origin here.

In the meantime if you want to do something positive send a big fuck you to FIFA by boycotting their bullshit events. Don’t even get me started on the sex-trafficking in Brazil for the tournament next month or how much of a Sochi-esque shitfight the 2018 event in Russia will be.



Mar 302014
Bullsh#t only begins to express the pain I feel.

Bullsh#t only begins to express the pain I feel.

I’ve increasingly become a fan of Yoga. Not the weird arse hand holding, chanting, kale eating shit (previous experience) but the basic stretching classes that help me lengthen my abnormally tight muscles.

I’ve got a buddy who’s more orientated towards the social aspects of Yoga (trying to bang hot chicks) who put me on to it a few years ago. He’s pretty flexible and finds it hilarious that my muscles and tendons have about as much give as parachute landing on tarmac. Check out the picture he sent me… such an asshole.

The sad thing is it’s a true representation of my Yoga experiences. I can’t reach my toes for shit. Forty year old housewives wipe the floor with me when it comes to downward facing dog. For me it’s like downward facing drop kick. By the end of the class I’m sweating like a Jihadist at a women’s rights convention..

In all seriousness though, Yoga is the bomb if, like me, you’ve spent years abusing your body. Static line parachuting, obstacle courses, humping huge amounts of crap, jumping out of helicopters, trucks and boats all take a serious toll on your joints and muscles. Yoga definitely helps release the pressure and build the strength back up. I recommend it to all the former service persons who’ve treated their bodies like a playground through their twenties.

For those of you that think it degrades their masculinity, you’re probably right. But at the end of the day you’re in a room filled with women in lycra who take their bodies seriously. Ain’t nothing bad about that.


PS. Just like my hamstrings PRIMAL Fury has been released.