Saturday, September 18, 2010

#210: Shaddap You Face

Some books just make you chuckle at how crazy they are - and this is no exception.  Written by our good mate Norm Barber, he of the non-flushing turds, ads written on toilets walls and Professional Bum, this tome is as hard to find as anything that he ever wrote, and with good cause.  It's not that Norm couldn't write, it's just that he had absolutely no idea of writing an impartial book.  Actually Norm couldn't write anything impartial really, I think he'd probably disagree with his own name.

Norm hated, and possibly still does, anything to do with the Government and any form of social services.  Actually, I'll alter that, Norm doesn't hate the services, he loves them, after all he's lived his entire life on the dole and is a self confessed leach, but what really boils Norm's piss are the people who have to deliver those services to the likes of, well Norm Barber.  You know the kind, the world owes them everything, argumentative, arrogant, know it all - arseholes really.  But that's our Norm.  Norm is a bum.  Pure and simple.

This book has listings on several faith healers, and Norm promotes the value and benefits of engaging faith healers (even after telling people that they're crap, such are the depths of Norm's paranoia), all the time slagging off any form of religion (you see Norm once bought a dud motorbike with a 'Living Hope' sticker on it - it was God's fault the bike was a dud, not Norm's fault for not checking it out) as evil.  Norm also hates Yuppies - and I presume that the word 'Yuppie', in Norm's eyes, means anyone who actually has a job and isn't sponging off Government handouts and writing inaccurate shit for the likes of the Green Left and he really can't stand any sceptic who might have an alternate view on faith healing.

Having said that, if you live in Adelaide then try and find this book, and if you have a collection of Barber's musings, then let me know - I want to check out his 'How To Be A Derelict In Adelaide'.  And post it.  In the meantime, enjoy the words of Norm's preface to this fine, long out of print (and deservedly so) and incredibly paranoid tome.

Ahhhh Norm, if only you'd not taken all of those drugs back in the day.  I hope he's learnt to flush though.

46 comments:

Anonymous said...

You missed so many: How to Avoid Work for the Dole; Fighting Centrelink; his generic job application that starts with "I hate work"; Outside the Social Inclusion Unit; Homeless Wars; Disappearing Charity Donations; How To Have A Successful Nervous Breakdown in Adelaide; the hundreds of articles in Big Issue Magazine; the Nasty Side of Organ Transplanting (Norm hates this, too); Norm versus Eternity; the court appearances for criticising Israel in Gaza, etc, etc.

Anonymous said...

You do Norm an injustice. Totally weird, yes, but the mess you mention was done by the newsagent who sold dirty books from that kiosk on the street corner, just near the entry stairs to the building.

He was the culprit. It always happened on Saturdays just after lunch, when the man who sold shirts and ties wholesale on the second floor was in the store room next door with his girlfriend. I should know; I was the cleaner then. The dirty book seller did things unspeakable and that make my cleaning job there quite unpleasant.


You do 100% weird Norm an injustice by tagging him with that. I think he was sleeping on the roof of the building and became the scapegoat for anything bad that happened. He was based in the writers' centre and was publishing books criticising big money charities, I think.

Not sure where Norm ended up. Saw him last year hobbling around on sticks. Must have broken a leg or something. It would be great to have some photographs of Norm from the old days.

Anonymous said...

An old copy of How to Be a Successful Healer by Norm Barber was on the sale table at the Theosophical Society New Dimensions Bookstore on South Terrace in Adelaide last week (September 2011) for $6.00.

How to Be a Derelict by Norm is available at the South Australia State Library for free reading and copying.

Norm Barber is one of the finest provokers of Good Conscience we have ever known...

DONT WORK FOR JERKS OR THE MONEY OF JERKS.

Anonymous said...

Just testing leaving an anonymous comment on this website.

Your Own Personal Jesus said...

I can fix that easily enough.

Anonymous said...

Would it not be wonderful to know the name of the coward who wrote this blog?

Anonymous said...

Norman barber adelaide homeless journal

Anonymous said...

The Adelaide homeless journal discussion page

Anonymous said...

https://youtu.be/VQqfHgboJGc

Anonymous said...

Norman bullshit babbling Barber, self proclaimed professional derelict and compensation fraud. He goes by the name "the editor" in his cowards page.

Norman is a Canadian migrant who has never worked a day of his life here in Australia. Instead he found a niche as a professional charity scab and compensation fraud.

He has published many other LSD inspired dilerous rants on the internet some of which can still be found today by Googling " norm barber homeless". You'll find advice from him on how to defraud centrelink and how to not get a job. His philosophy on why organ transplantation doesn't work. Others about how the worlds economic problems would be solved if woman weren't allowed to work and were made to stay at home, cook and clean. I kid you not. You'll find his self titled "hate mail" page from his last page that got shut down.

Norman boasts that his homelessadelaideaustralia@weebly.com web page is out of Australian jurisdiction to do anything about because the server is based in America. Fortunately my lawyers wrote to the national library of Australia where somehow he'd managed to get his stalkers blog archived. It has been removed and will be reviewed again in 4 years should he try to resubmit, at which time my lawyers will submit a complaint again and his resubmission will be denied. On his page he claims the removal of his page from their archive was reduced. In fact it was only under review, he complained so they removed it permanently and told him to come back and try again in 4 years. haha

So unfortunately for Norman his page will not become any part of Australias history. Once he dies and the rental of his page on weebly.com goes unpaid his page and lifes work will be deleted forever.

Norman Barber is a drug addict and dealer himself, addicted to oxycontin for his "knee injury". He sells his prescrition medication to people like "piano playing paedophile wayne" for his tooth ache. Check out wayne butlers public posts on facebook. Norman can also be found at st bedes church in semaphore on Tuesday's and Wednesday's selling his oxycontins to older peolpe.

The reason Norman feels so safe been a keyboard worrier cyber troll is because he lives in the units directly opposite the police watch house in Elizabeth. Although laura Willows has since messaged me and says this is wrong. Her message can be found towards the bottom of this page.

Anonymous said...

Mark sex offender Smith calls himself"Lance Armstrong" the bicycle stalker. He can be found most nights secretly recording peoples private conversations at freds van to supply to Norman. After that he'll lurk around the laundromats at closing time looking for displaced and vulnerable women to groom.

Mr Smith is a convicted sex offended and is recorded in the sex offeneders register for committing acts of sexual molestation to young boys in foster care during the 1960's. For years now he has lurked the homeless support services looking for more vuanrable peolpe to groom and abuse.

The most recent target of thier victimization was Emma Hines. A woman 30 years his junior which both he and Norman Barber had sexual relations with, traded shelter for sex. Emma suffered serious mental issues which made it easy for anyone who abussed her to discredit her alligations. Emma use to claim that "lance armstrong raped her, followed her around and wrote stories about her on the internet". Nobody listened because she was "crazy", clearly it wasnt in her head.

Unfortunately Emma Hines is now deceased. According to Norman Barber and Mark Smith on their page she was murdered and point the finger at various other people.

On thier page they go into great detail about the events and circumstances surrounding her death. The police nor coroner have released any information and the investigation is on going. So how do Norman Barber and Mr Smith know so much? Why the continued obsession with her and why are they so desperate to piont the finger at other people. Aledgedly she died of a drug overdose, Norman Barbers oxycontins by any chance? Where were Mark Smith and Norman Barber on the night that Emma Hines died, they seem to know where she was every other day and night of her life.

When I've confronted Mr Smith about his web page he claims he knows nothing about the web page, that its all in my head, that I'm crazy and proceeds to tell people that i have mental problems. Funny because thats exactly what they did to Emma Hines when she cried out for help and exactly the same thing they say about me in the "adelaide homeless journal", some coincidence.

The notices on the gates of the west care premises warning that "anyone caught videoing or taking photos of other people within the premises without their written consent will be banned". Mr Smith is directly responsible for this. Mark Smith was caught taking photos and videos of people on the premises going about their bussiness. Washing, showering etc. Although this does not stop him activating the voice recoder on his phone and placing it on the dining tables.

Mr Smith is also well known in the stolen bicycle racket. He is always on the look out for high quality stolen bicycle parts. He wears a $300 bontragger helmet yet cannot afford to feed himself?

Anonymous said...

The sad world of Frank Pangallo 
and Verity Kate Edwards

A formerly homeless man normam barberemembers his encounter with the Today/Tonight television program

The team at Today/Tonight are fuming. Tara Brown from Channel Nine beat them to the Norm Barber interview. So they’re digging in for the long haul and assign Verity Kate Edwards, Iron Man contestant and Seven’s dogs-body, to maintain friendly contact until they’re ready to pounce. Verity, a killer python addict, lives in a Protected Community back of the Wakefield Private Hospital.

 “Just touching ground,” she says, in occasional emails, feigning interest in my organ transplant research. “Where do you live?” ask other emails, under other names.

 “I’m not interested in an interview,” I reply, after twelve months of Verity et el. Channel Seven’s response is to send a camera crew into the Adelaide Hills, knocking on my ex-neighbours’ doors: “Have you seen Norm?” they ask.  Friends warn me. 

 “I told you: no interview,” I message Verity. “Stop sending people looking for me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replies, “Please explain.” 

 I catch Verity trailing me a month later as I exit from the Southern Centre For Bio-Ethics. Her 52kg body, bulked up in thick coats, can barely fit into her Festiva. Her accomplice is the man who faked the Dole Army interview scenes. He disguised a shed then claimed it was a secret tunnel where the Dole Army emerged from at night to scavenge supermarket rubbish bins. He follows me in a black BMW with a secret dashboard camera. He sweats it out in the Findon shopping centre car park, hiding across the front bucket seats while operating the camera. But the heat is too much and he shamefacedly rises up and slinks away. 

 They fall in behind as I drive to the Job Network, following so closely as if trying to stage a crash. 

 I lose him near the empty wool sheds, but at Port Adelaide Verity stands in front of Centrelink, chatting comfortably with people at the bus stop.  I climb the stairs to the first floor self-service computer area where another man waits, smiling. “Contact made,” he says into his phone then hides behind a cubicle, pretending to type.  Then like creatures beholden to some mysterious circadian rhythm they abandon the chase. 

 I live in my car, sleeping on a rolled back seat or underneath trees in dry weather. Channel Seven knows my Post Box and plants spies outside. They email me claiming to be an organ donor posting research material. Their spy identifies me by their parcel I carry from the post office, and follows me to the Kensington Road lookout that overlooks the Adelaide Plains. He phones the camera crew. 

 “Still living in your car,” shouts Frank Pangalo, a Today/Tonight jock, trying to stop me closing my door.  The chase is on. It ends twelve minutes later – the time it takes for my leaky radiator to empty. We’re at Hindmarsh Square in the CBD. 

 They rush my car. I stay inside. The cameraman presses his lens against the windscreen above which the boom operator dangles a microphone.  

 “We just want to talk to you,” says Frank, smoothly, but within minutes he’s thumping the roof and tapping my side window. He rhythmically rocks the car by thrusting his body against the door. “Norm, Norm,” he moans and cajoles like a used-car dealer then tries different psychological buttons: “Leech, bludger, anarchist,” (he has trouble pronouncing the last word). His phone rings, “Yeah, yeah, assassin, yeah…in his car” – his voice is for people in the street; his message for me: public humiliation. 

 My heart races; I need to urinate, my mouth is dry; I want to ask for mercy, but stay silent, motionless. 


Anonymous said...

 Pangalo says Channel Seven might offer me a job, “Just for a week.” He implies they’ll use that week to film me: if I don’t, they’ll tell Centrelink who will stop payments. 

 He finishes his script then repeats himself like a movie playing a second time. Our faces are close, separated by my driver-side window: we appear conspirators on a dark night. An evening rain sets in and he’s getting wet. He thrusts his pelvis against the car body and I pity him.

 But he’ll look good on Today/Tonight; the editors will portray me as a scumbag: “Mr Barber prefers to play dumb with us,” Frank’s voiceover will describe this scene. But here we both know the score. I’ve become indifferent to this shock jock. 

 My heart slows to a healthy beat and my mouth moistens. Relief flows through my blood stream like when you bang your “funny bone”, and the excruciating pain triggers a flood of endorphins, those bodily opiates that ease pain. Sitting in the cocoon of my car, my panic becomes elation. They’ve done their worst and I’m still here, feeling good. Frank calls it a night and they return to the station. 

 I camp that night at Norton Summit on a slippery track littered with dozens of computers, lounge suites, a household of 1950s crockery, (individually wrapped in newspaper), and garbage bags of discarded hydroponic dope.  

 They see me at the bulk-billing skin cancer clinic three days later. People living outside over-absorb UV light; causing lesions that can be zapped off with frozen carbon dioxide. 

 At a shopping centre the cameraman gets a few seconds of my wobbly eyes. They slow down the re-play speed during editing making me look even more weird. They feature this doctored-up sequence in program promos across Australia during the weekend football games. “Australia’s Biggest Dole Bludger” they quote, from Leon Byner, an Adelaide shock jock. This fearless investigator later experiences an absence from radio after being caught offering protection from investigators, like him, for $10,000.

 The final edit has an obese Amanda Vandstone saying, “…encouraging people to lie is a dreadful thing to do.” They obtain an art resume I wrote during the Adelaide Festival and beat it up as a real resume. They get a recruitment advisor, bathing his image in gold, to analyse it.  They colour my leaflet, How To Avoid Work for the Dole, in an eerie gunmetal blue, and play subliminal classical music behind it – the music used to portray someone going psychotic. 

 They broadcast the eight and a half-minute segment on Today/Tonight. Then it’s over. I’ve passed through another test of fire, or, in this case, a trough of mud, and survive to become stronger.

Anonymous said...

Peter Nash the photographer

Anonymous said...

Norman Barber slagging off the apparments he lives in at Elizabeth
this page is to document certain happenings at a certain group of retirement units owned by the Laura and Alfred West Cottage Homes Incorporated and administered by Anglicare in the form of  Rude Rhonda M. Callaghan. To be fair, the incidents recounted below don't form the totality of  the lives of those criticised. No doubt, there are many who can recount the kind and selfless acts done by Rude Rhonda Callaghan, Deidre Knight, Patricia Buhagiar, Ben Moore and that grass cutter.

The faulty security lights were eventually fixed after more than six months of not operating properly. They were easily and cheaply fixed. All the talk about digging trenches was untrue and a symptom of slack bureaucrats. The numerous electricians who fiddled with the power box were incompetent. Even the crazy grass cutter has got a new ride-on mower and which doesn't cut the grass at dirt level.

This website is a protest on behalf of people who are little regarded by the many bureaucracies that control their lives. However... 

Mark Arstall said...

google4d6fac318b2717e3.html thanks for posting the meta data code for your site publicly...lol idiot...and a dash of SEO mark arstall was here arstall said that mark arstall is awesome something something free food van at the soup kitchen free meals in adelaide ice addicts meth users krokadil junkie...and a google+ login and a partrage in a pair tree

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Anonymous said...

Piano playing Wanye Butler charged for cruilty to animals.
A nurse attending Wanye Butlers residents to cheak on the condition of his rotting gangrene infected limbs made a startling discovery.
She noticed clotted blood around the anus of his cat. When asked if he had noticed he avoided the subject.
The nurse took a closer look at the cat a saw that its rectum was herniated and bleeding internally.
After leaving she contacted the R.S.P.C.A and police.
The cat was ceased but died soon after from toxic shock.
Police are investigating.

Anonymous said...

I do not wish these peolpe death.
I wish them the longest lives possible.
If i had one wish it would be for them to live a thousand life times, because they would still ammount to nothing but free loading dole bludging parasites of sociaty with no friends or stories of their own.
I wish them a slow natural death, counting every breath until thiet last.
As they reminisce the memories of their lives, their thoughts will not be filled of memories of love, success or achievments.
But memories of hiding out in public toilets, sneaking around taking photos of dirty blankets, complaints about free meals.
The thoughts on thier death beds filled with memories of the people they stalked and obsessed over, not shared experiences with close friends and love.
The gift of life, to live on this world of unlimited possibilities, yet they existed every day like the day before, like a dog chained to a kennel.
Simple pleasures known by most.
The taste of cold beer sweetened by the satisfaction of a hard days work, knowing of ones contribution to the lives of others. Concepts and feelings unknown to these males and their parasitic lives.
As consciousness ceases and the terrorfying dark of death takes hold they'll look into thiers hearts to find light to guide them into the darkness.
The search futile as they fall into the depths of hell.
Hell knowing on thier final breath they completely wasted thier lives, nfo comfort will they find.
As thier hearts takes its final beat no loved one will be holding thier hand or a final kiss goodbye. Their ears will hear no fairwell from friends.
A stranger will pull a blanket over thier face, a door will close, the end.
Enter eternity alone, forgoten.
They will meet the souls of those passed who they slander in death.
Hells retribution will begin.
Few will attend the funeral, no one will speak words of love or admiration for these people who wasted their lives.
People will attend to laugh and watch the dirt fall on their faces for final time.
Thier will be websites created for these peolpe.
The domains are already reserved.
The websites will not be flattering.
They will be remembered as the free loading mentally deranged parasites that achived nothing but hate.

Mark Arstall said...

DOG ACT

Recently I discovered the "adelaide homeless journal".

It is an anonymous online publication, Google it.

It is difficult to read due to the limited literary talents of its contributors, ranging from incessant monologues to fairy tale naritives.

It is compiled by a group of aging men and women all of whome receive stable income and housing. For years they have frequented the homeless support services unnecessarily. They do not reciprocate any of the homeless ettequte they make observations about in their "journal" nor do they make any contributions to the charitable causes they exploit and make disreputable alligations towards in their publication.

The "crony gang" as they call themselves just sit back, eat watch and go home at the end of the night with their free shopping in hand. Greed aside their paticipation is voyeuristic.

Now they feel fit to write a review about the free food and perceived entertainment.

The who was where on what night, how they looked, what they said or did and what the free food was like. According to thier gossip, speculation, eve's dropping and fat stomachs.

It is deplorable that these repugnant men publish complaints about how the butter is spread on the sandwiches at the free food van.

They express a derogatory prejudice towards those suffering from mental illness or caught in the grips of spiralling drug addictions, coining them with childish and offensive code names. Like this makes it ok.

These ludicrous imbiceles make false reports of acts of violence or deaths with are then followed up by ammendments with no apology or any understanding for any distress they may have caused.

Disturbingly the main purpose of their "journal" is to cronical the whereabouts, sleeping places, states of pysical and mental heath of women sleeping on the street.

As for the rest of us. They sneak around taking photos if our camps when we are not there, safely doing so by knowing exactly where we are going to be a certain other times, having meals etc.

Spreading gossip and creating rumour are acts of passive agressive bullying. Agression towards others is not tolerated at any homeless refuge and will result in the offending person been removed. Yet this table of fat bellied stalkers who complain about the lack of seating, quality and quantity of the free food remain a permanent fixture

Their perverted infatuation with our lives and what ever deviant satisfaction these bored old men get from spying on us must cease.

So we may continue to visit these places of refuge without out the concern of our conversations, actions, habits and whereabouts becoming a grossly sensationalised and inaccurate matter of public record.

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Anonymous said...

Anglicare family Misson 91-93 Elizabeth way, Elizabeth.

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Mark Arstall said...

Nice one norm! I see you are encouraging loyal supports like Kel Bel to create "mirror sites".
So we can just go back to thier sites and see how many times you change a sotries.
Makes my job easy?

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Mark Arstall said...

THE GHOST OF EMMA HINES

What are the chances of while sitting in a church a box falls from the heavens and gashes someones head?
Very good if your name is Mark Smith aka "lance armstrong" aka "poor old man who rides a bike".
Which is exaxtly what happened to him while seated at the Salvo's one Saturday night.
Was he seated in Emma Hines seat?
I like to think so.
He will not let her soul rest. 
He tormented her in life. 
He thinks himself a psychologist, claims on his page to have read alot about psychology.
I've watched him practice.
I watched him practice on Emma Hines.
Do you think like to talk about this?
I did nothing and paid it no attention.
..but its all recorded on the "adelaide homeless journal.
They think they can drive me crazy.
Maybe they are.
Why did they pick on me?
DEATH ON THE SANDS by norman barber.
Lets talk psychology.
"Is mark arstall psyching himself to murder"
I dunno. Am i, your the ones writting the story.
Every one knows that cyber bullies get off on what they do because saying that sorta stuff gets the shit kicked out of ya in real life.
Well Norman must have a death wish.
He wants to be a real life murder story.
He wants to be remembered, desperately.
Sorry aint gonna happen norman.
My guess is your gonna die of food poisoning eating all that dodgy free food you complain about.
But hey your are what you eat huh..and norman is about as bittet and toxic as you can get.

.or hes going to die in mental asylum

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Mark Arstall said...

I think today I'll look through the "journals archives" for the sotries of the stalking of Emma Hines and Mark Smiths praticing of his "psychology" on her. So thankyou Kel Bel and anyone else for keeping backup records of the stalkers blog. Also i have another appointment with alos to have "homeless wars" and "homelsss gossip" removed from the trove archives, if they really are stored. Why would the national library archive virus infected anonymous cyberstalking hate sites. Haha Noram you cant delete anything..lol and this changing font colour to match the background to hide things..just requires changing the contrast level and its still there to cut and copy. So is the "crony gang" aka "homeless journal collective" going to be do reviews on 2hat jail food is like?

Anonymous said...

Funny shit, norman anonymously posting on this page and calling the creator of it a coward

Anonymous said...

Liza thanks you for the laugh, Liza helped make these video. We look forward to been put into more fits of laughter with your next volume of 50 shades of stalker... Just fuck off and die already luara yiu denendem cunt

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