One of Australia's largest Defence Department-linked companies has suspended a contractor over her alleged links to an international neo-Nazi group.
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Mat Henderson, a volunteer with Australian anti-racism group Fight dem back, said bad economic times were always a fertile recruitment ground for racist groups.
http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2009/04/06/1238869885378.html?page=fullpage#contentSwap1
They unsuccessfully harassed my employers several years ago. Whether or not you agree with somebodys politics, there is something very wrong when somebody can lose their job because of their political beliefs. If this person had been a Muslim and was fired because of it, you'd never hear the end of it. But once again, its just another whitey.
Where does Matthew Henderson Hau now work? If anyone out there can inform us, please let us know. Time he tasted the same shit he's been flinging around.
I want to force feed this shit his own words in the press. We didn't have to hack any site for this info: Henderson posted them publicly. The following was found on his internet blog until the entire thing was removed by him for obvious reasons:
Henderson's admission of vandalism and corprophiliaFrom 'Darpism.com’
Monday 1st December 2003:
‘THE DARP GUIDE TO TRASHING HOTEL ROOMS’
What with all the fart-arsing around I did in Melbs, (sic) I haven't had time to shave my nut-sack. As I hopped into the shower this morning I gave my pubic region a quick glance.
It looked like Chewbacca after a fight. Soon fixed that up.
Most of you know I had a few issues with my hotel in Melbourne and that I took a few steps to leave my mark upon the place. It seems I can't stay in any overnight accommodation without doing something evil to the carpet, the bathroom or the bedroom curtains. So here, dear readers is my guide to trashing hotel rooms.
Firstly, you gotta (sic) get the whole "Keith Richards TV out the window", Rock Star type trashing. The sort of shit I do is much more subtle and undetectable at least for a few days. It's also much more expensive to clean up and much more damaging to the proprietor seen (sic) as they usually cannot use a room I've just vacated - not until the fumigators have finished anyway.
1) Take a dump in a brown paper bag and squash it flat. Hide a few of these under the bed, behind paintings and under the fridge. In a few days time they'll know about it
2) Empty out the ice-cube tray and refill it with piss. Re-freeze it.
3) Piss on the carpet.
4) Empty all teabags and coffee sachets into the bed.
5) Put a condom on the door handle.
6) Piss in the flower vase.
7) Piss in the kettle.
Cool Basically piss everywhere except IN the dunny bowl.
9) Fill the bathtub to the brim then drop the bedside clock radio into the tub, remembering to unplug it first.
10) Make your own bath stew; load it up with towels, Maccas (sic) leftovers, milk, the Gideon’s if you're REALLY feeling evil and leave it to brew for a day or so prior to your leaving. Remember to put the "Don't clean my room" sign on your door.
11) Hide food scraps and unwashed cereal bowls in not so obvious places like the dryer, under the bed covers, the washing machine, the drying closet and the mini bar.
12) Empty out the Scotch, Bourbon and Brandy mini bottles and replace them with piss. Drink a Berocca before hand to ensure colour consistency.
13) NEVER wipe your feet.
14) Upon leaving, put a turd in the microwave and/or the dryer and cook em up. The stench is kinda instantaneous so you gotta (sic) check the f*** outa (sic) there pretty quick.
15) Deny everything.
M.
Various insane ramblings on drug use and deviot behaviorMonday, 1st December 2003:
“I spent my days bumming around at uni, drinking three dollar jugs of beer and smoking spliffs. But being a poor student, I was then decked out in the post-rave sporty/fashion trackie top look with Adidas gazelles, a Supergrass style Lego cut and an increasing fascination with Cocaine as opposed to Ecstasy. Something that got kinda hairy as the 90’s wore on.”
Monday, 1st December 2003:
“I shave my balls and I vote! I shave my nutsack and I am proud!”
Monday, 1st December 2003:
“I tried using a hand-cream moisturiser but wound up "relaxing in a gentleman's way" (tossing) more often than not when I applied it. Apparently my cock tasted like Lavender and Chamomile for a good while afterwards.”
Wednesday, 10th December 2003:
“Christianity f***s me off. Christ IS the only way! All that shit erks (sic) me. It’s like Patti Smith said, “Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine.”
2nd April 2004:
“See, when I was a knockabout undergrad Uni student in search of a quick dollar to support my alcohol and drug habits, I worked in this very store as a "Spray Himbo" on the Calvin Klein counter - a veritable five metres or so away from Michael Hope and his grand piano.”
Wednesday, 28th April 2004:
"Amanda Vandstone (Sic) our immigration minister is a big fat mamma."
Thursday, 10th June 2004:
“I’m not a violent man but I wanna kick the f*** out of Tim Bailey”
Sunday, 6th June 2004:
“So what about fat c***s who are happy with their body image? As long as they’re not plonking their fat sweaty arse next to me on a packed train, I don’t care.”
Wednesday, 9th June 2004:
“Maybe I like Latham so much because my hatred for honest Johnny has gradually been getting unbearable. I’ve never liked the slimy little f*** but ever since the last election and the Tampa debacle, I’d dearly love to whack off in his salad and watch him eat it, at gunpoint.”
Thursday, 10th June 2004:
“Alexander Downer Must Die!”
Friday, 11th June 2004:
“As you all know, I love fags and think that there should be more of them in the world, but I do not like private education and everything it stands for.”
Wednesday, 25th August, 2004:
“My head is now swimming with memories of driving through bushy North Shore back roads, Born Slippy by Underworld blaring from the dodgy speakers on her late model Holden Astra. Doing lines off the dashboard and getting up to all sorts of wickeness. (Sic) Her looking like just like Justine Frischmann from Elastica and me with bleach-blonde hair trying to look like Sick Boy from Trainspotting.”
Henderson on the professed joys of child abuse16 February 2004:
Fat kids
“I have discovered a new sport. It is a cross between tenpin bowling, ironman and Turkish mud wrestling. I don't yet have a name for it; maybe one of my erstwhile readers will concoct something based on the following description.
The game is played in the surf, in rough surf with decent booming waves. Instead of simply bodysurfing and catching waves into shore for the pure physio-aesthetic appeal of it, you catch waves and bodysurf whilst aiming your trajectory at very fat children, the aim being to scatter them like tenpins. Now, I've always had time for fat kids, I think they're a fantastic source of visual entertainment. …
Saturday was a bumper crop; I waded out into the surf and cast my eyes around for prospective targets. I spy a cluster of five or six little fat c***s, all of them resplendent with the best man bosoms you've ever seen, one of them is wearing a mini wetsuit and you can make out each goddam individual roll of chubber - he was squeaking as he walked.
I swam out past the sandbank and waited for the next set to come in. I lined myself up with the target, moved a few metres to the south to allow for the current, looked back and saw my wave approaching. I sprang up from the ocean floor and hooked myself on it perfectly, keeping my torso ahead of the break; I steamed towards my Burger King sponsored tenpins like a f***ing rocket.
BOOM, CRASH, SMASH, CRACK, "WHAT THE f*** WAS THAT?” GROAN, MOAN, SOOK!
They were all waist deep in the water midway through the sandbank when my head collided with their blubber. I must say, it was probably the softest and most bouncy collision (intentional or otherwise) I've ever been involved with.
They scattered. One flew back on his arse and then rolled over on his back; another two clashed heads and stumbled over sideways. Their leader, who I christened "Double beef, bacon and cheese" - or "D-BAC" for short, managed to hold his footing by virtue of his superior weight; the waves could have broken against him all day and he would have remained as immovable as a f***ing lighthouse.
I didn't see where the rest of my targets lay but I took a great deal of pleasure in watching them dedicate a weeks worth of physical exertion to the basic primal activity of getting back off their arses. They heaved, grunted, sweated and mumbled obscenities as they re-grouped. I duck dived and swam back out, waiting for another ideal wave….
As I rose for my first gulp of air in what seemed like hours, I bore witness to a repeat of the spectacle I'd just witnessed. Fat little c***s all struggling to get back on their feet, some of them hobbling now and a very pissed off looking D-BAC clutched his jaw and shot me daggers. I felt it pertinent to say something so I chirped out the usual up-beat apology that one offers in mid-surf collisions and made my way back out to the catching zone….
It wasn't the most ideal wave but it held up for long enough to give me some serious steam, this time I wasn't going to make it look like an accident. I torpedoed on towards them with arms outstretched and fists clenched, legs kicking like a madman to build up even more speed.
Q-PAC was the first to notice and he yelled a warning to the others but it was too late. D-BAC took my impact head on, well 'belly-on' anyway. He was finally dislodged arse over tit, signalling an end to the game and a victory to yours truly. The rest of them lay in a similar manner of physical disarray, moaning, groaning and (here is where I felt a bit too slack), one of them was actually bawling….
M. posted by Darp @ 12:06 PM”
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Dear Phyllis (I've given assumed names to both of my player haters here).You use the term 'beat up' FFFFAAAAAAAAATTTT kids at the beach. I don't think I ever beat any of them up, I rocketed into them at a million miles per hour and scattered them like the little lard-bucket ten-pins they are but I never actually beat them up. THEY CRIED BECAUSE THEY LOST THE GAME, not because they were hurt!If any of them got hurt during our little game maybe they should take a look at their own lack of speed and dexterity - see, if they weren't roly poly fat little f***ers, they would have had agility to avoid my cannon ball runs and thus NOT be hurt.That is that issue settled. YES, I think it is funny to laugh at fat children. HA HA HA HA BLOODY HA HA HA HA."
On John Howard and saladFrom Darpism.com Wednesday, 9th June 2004:
“Maybe I like Latham so much because my hatred for honest Johnny has gradually been getting unbearable. I’ve never liked the slimy little f*** but ever since the last election and the Tampa debacle, I’d dearly love to whack off in his salad and watch him eat it, at gunpoint.”
The suburban terroristSaturday, 18th September, 2004:
“This is what a pissed off Darp looks like. I am ready to f***ing kill. I have spent the better part of this week erecting Andrew Wilkie posters in people's front yards only to have EVERY f***ING SINGLE ONE OF THEM ripped down sometime this evening. To the Lib apparatchiks who ripped all my posters down, you have just started something that could very well f*** you over. You've taken the campaign into Darp's area of expertise - suburban terrorism.”
Gas chamber for the elderlyWednesday, 22nd September, 2004:
“John Howard has the grey vote sown (Sic) up. Such is the common understanding of many people. Senior Citizens adore him and come out in droves to vote for their low rent Bob Menzies. I had cause once again to ponder the benefits of compulsory euthanasia for the most bothersome sections of our seniors community.”
Matthew Henderson Hau's admission of illegal drug use and corprophilia http://isitwrongtowishonspacehardware.blogspot.com/2003_11_30_isitwrongtowishonspacehardware_archive.htmlDarp the drug addicted student at MacQuarie University 1990’s:
“But being a poor student, I was then decked out in the post-rave sporty/fashion trackie top look with Adidas gazelles, a Supergrass style Lego cut and an increasing fascination with Cocaine as opposed to Ecstasy. Something that got kinda hairy as the 90’s wore on.”
“My head is now swimming with memories of driving through bushy North Shore back roads, Born Slippy by Underworld blaring from the dodgy speakers on her late model Holden Astra. Doing lines off the dashboard and getting up to all sorts of wickeness. Her looking like just like Justine Frischmann from Elastica and me with bleach-blonde hair trying to look like Sick Boy from Trainspotting”
“I partied hard, did way too many drugs and drank far too much than is good for anyone. I fell in and out of love god knows how many times and managed to come through it all mentally together, physically intact and romantically un-attached and carefree.”
“And managed to come through it all mentally together” it would seem that any fair minded person who has read any material from this deranged habitual idiot would find this statement laughable at the extreme.
Mathew Henderson Hau the Law Student, now goes into detail on how he fouls his trousers. Yes patriots of Australia, in particular ones who have been attacked for comments they have made on the Internet, behold Mathew Henderson-Hau aka Darp, highly respected by Australian Media and Jews alike.
“It was my first dump of the day, so I had the morning's porridge to unload first. Imagine one of those Nascar/Speedway races where the competitors are all jammed in behind the pace car, ready to put their foot down as soon as the signal is given.Well, my hard and nuggetty porridge turd was the pace car and once I managed to wiggle that out the exit chute, the competitors in the Newcastle Curry Hell 500 came flying out of the blocks, hell bent on breaking the Darp's anal passage land speed record, last set by a nasty case of food poisoning due to a dodgy Thai Green Curry at Prasits on Crown Street, Sydney.
The first burst was pure liquid, my body was punishing me by re-routing the normal flow of excrement and choosing to piss out my arsehole. Oh, the pain of it all!I graduated to the radioactive sludge stage after about five minutes, my poor ringpiece gradually resembling a burning tyre. Each new contraction brought fourth a new spray of bum nuggets and gravy and a subsequent sob of agony from yours truly.
These were communal dunnies so every now and then someone would open the door, loudly sniff the air and promptly scarper.A good half hour went by when I felt that the worst had past. Next challenge was to wipe my freckle without messing with its structural integrity. One wipe told me that I needed to jump in the nearest shower and deal with the situation - eyes closed.Up with the shreddies for a most uncomfortable walk back to my dorm to grab my towel. I dumped my boxers in the bin afterwards.”
