Monday, April 17, 2017

In between the middles

The man was pissed off.

But he wasn't pissed off for any illogical reasons.

No fucking way.

Illogic was for fucking assholes.

And he was NOT an asshole.

Fuck you if you even thought he was.

No. Chance.

But he WAS pissed off.

And the reason he was pissed off was because his parents had named him 'Illogically illegitimate'.

Which obviously was annoying as being an 'i' name both first and last, meant that no matter which way the alphabetical order was administrated he'd end up middling.

Plus he found math weird.

I mean if 2 + 2 was 4 then how come there were always at least 7 barnyard animals in his parents illuminate orgies?

And also why do icebergs not get frost bite? Or frost lung? Or even black lung? Are they racist?

And also if he was pissed off then how come iceberg lettuce was calm?

Yep, the man was definitely pissed off. In retrospect it was actually probably mostly from seeing that mule do 'it' to his mother.

And by 'it' I mean tell her she'd be kicked out of the illuminate if she didn't get her kid naming skills up to scratch.

Which he obviously said to her while fornicating with a candle medley shaped like a pentagram.

And if that's not logical then how come lettuce rarely holds press conferences to talk about recent changes in coal mine straw testing parties?

You know what, let's take some questions now, wait, how should we do this, um, I no, let's go alphabetically.

Aaron Zelcher, you're up first!

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Wow, and I mean like... wow! - A Poem

The accountant
Had an epic epiphany. 
He suddenly realized that his name, Scontson, suggested that he was not in fact an accountant. 
But rather, perhaps, some sort of magic wielding master of illusion, creating spectacular alternative realities, and mastering the fine art of truth hiding in support of enhancing a beautiful myth of hope. 
This made him sad. 
As he'd obviously wasted his destined life.
So he finished wiping.
Counted the rest of the squares of paper on the roll.
And went back to work.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Breaking News - Exclusive PROOF of intergalactic Aliens being in America, that literally goes all the way to the TOP!

#BreakingNews #Exclusive #Aliens

If you look at North America from space it is CLEAR and OBVIOUS that the USA is wearing a Great Lake hat saying 'PC' like a tiny French Beret! 

Here is some more undeniable undoctored photographic evidence:

You can see it from this angle.

You can see it when it's warm but the lakes are cold.

You can even see it when it's cold but the lakes are warm. 

So what does this mean? Well Clearly Trump is NOT in bed with Russia after all, but rather in a nice cool futon with Politically Correct obsessed French Intergalactic Aliens that like to swim, but probably only right in the heart of summer, unless they like cold water, which they might! 

This raises some particularly important and scary questions:
- Why have the Aliens stamped this one great nation with this such epically polarizing PC label? 
- Can we build a wall to keep THEM out, and can the people of the cloud nations be made to pay for it? 
- Just how involved were the French Canadians in the lakes construction? 
- Is there any good fishing that way, and if so anyone know any good flight deals? 
- And does wearing your tiny beret on the top right rather than the top left make you gay? 

We'll hear more from this to come I'm sure. In the meantime stay tuned to Brave Dave's Brave New News for more exclusives, depending on whether I procrastinate on Google earth again later, or possible even if the PC loving aliens get mad at me for that 'gay' question above!

In the meantime watch out for clear space aliens in your neighborhood. They may look like this:

Or they may look like this:

But either way, we know a couple of things for sure, they're real, they're PC, and they mean business, and the scariest type of business there is - LAKE business!

Saturday, January 28, 2017

Perspective Infective - a Poem

Goliath really wanted to go the zoo
But he couldn't afford it 
So instead he watched the pigeons in the square 
He had a swell time 
But he gnat living in his left eyelashes cried itself to sleep 

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Today in questions - tears?

Today in Questions - tears 

There are so many answers out there man, but who's asking the questions?  And are they the right questions? It's like there's like so many questions yet to be asked, right? Like, just for an example, what's up with tears man? You know? They come out of the eyes, but if you don't cry where does that water go? Into the brain? And if so can your brain drown? And if so can you give a brain mouth to mouth? And does it taste good? And is it right to wonder how it tastes when a life is at stake? And what if it was a steaks life at stake? And if those tears don't go into the brain how can you be sure the brain isn't overheating? And if it is can a brain evaporate? And if it evaporates does that mean rain is full of brain? And if so how come rain barely even tastes of scalp, let alone brain? And what if you DO cry, and the crying reminds you of sadness, and sadness reminds you of being sad, and remembering being sad leads you to BEING sad, so you end up crying TOO much, so all the water cries out, do you have to water your eyes to replenish the water supply? And how would you even do that? The funnel on most water spouts is probably too wide, can you narrow it? And if you can, what does that say about the water spouts construction? Why would they make the spouts amendable? Why not just do the research into optimal spout to eyeball ratio before going into full scale manufacturing? And what if you did, but the scale itself was off kilter, what does that say about your research department? And how does 'kilter' get completely off the hook here? Is it an escape artist? And if so why the fuck don't we know about this already? You got an established fucking escape artist out there then the public needs to fucking know, right? What if we had an evil kidnapping plot hatching in our brains? How do we know that if the spout we kidnap escapes it won't talk? And if that's because it CAN'T talk, then who the fuck ripped it's voice box out? I didn't even know they HAD voice boxes, why the fucking fuck wasn't I told? Am
I not good enough to be told this shit? I mean fuck you, is that what you think? Cause that makes me want to cry, and what if instead of crying out my eyes, I, I don't know, maybe miraculously developed some sort of 'tear duct'? Would that make me MORE advanced than the robots man? Cause I threw a water balloon at one of those once, and it exploded quietly all over it, and even though the robot had a complete shut down it barely even yelled at me, so who's the real hero? I mean the point is there's a steaks life at stake for fucks sake, has someone called the fucking cops? And if not WHY the fuck NOT? 

You know? 

I mean it's like a yes or no question man.

That's the real question. 

You know man? 

Yes vs no. 

Is the rain full of brain?


That was today in questions. Join us again to cover the next topic, will it be - shin guards? I don't fucking know, stop asking me shit. 

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Drip Dried Loneliness

Down the road from the malicious witch’s house….

Over near the green fire lake….

Behind the chrome colored lightening shooting tree…

That sits next to the harpoon dropping giant magical robot, the one with the eyes made out of a thousand glued together tiny demons, each of which have been brainwashed to say nothing but a different dirty word over and over at a pitch rarely pleasant, if at ALL pleasant, and with nostrils which are slightly different shaped giving off a facial expression which is hard to read and yet always seems to be signifying some degree of anger, or at the very least pissed-offedness, and with arms which bend backwards in a way that make people who see them immediately suck air through their gritted teeth inwards in empathetic pain as if they have seen two viciously broken arms, until they realize that perhaps the arms were just ATTACHED to the robot on the wrong sides, and yet if you look even closer you realize that they can’t have been put on the wrong sides or else the screws would have had to be bent, and no one is going to go to that much effort, I mean maybe for a good robot, but this robot was evil from the get go, and yet despite this unlikely scenario no one can know for sure because the inventor cannot be located, so no explanation of why the arms we’re designed in such a pain inducing way is available, which is REALLY frustrating for those people who are concerned with such things, and yet completely irrelevant for those who have acid spat in their eyes by the demons, but still even for those with their eyes being melted off are still annoyed by the thought of asking the robot to hand them something, a towel to mop up the liquefied eyes mess for example, only to discover that due to the robots poorly crafted arms it struggles to hand people ANYTHING, which is a infuriating, I mean think about it ‘please hand me the butter?’ you may request of a close acquaintance who is presently located closer to the butter than you are at this given time, well then if the reply came as ‘sorry I have badly designed arms and therefore I struggle to hand people things’, well then you’d have to reach out to get the butter yourself, and did I mention at the time this began you had a warm roll in front of you, a WARM roll, any delay in getting this butter is going to drastically change how enjoyable this roll is, it doesn’t sound like a pleasant experience does it? Plus right after your eyes have been liquefied the LAST thing you want to be thinking about is melting butter. And lets also point out the giant grey beast in the room, if you see this giant robot, you’re immediately going to think ‘wow, next time I have to throw together a rag-tag bunch of football players to play against the local university team in a last ditch effort to save the farm, this robot will be the FIRST guy I pick’, but then you’d get him out on the field and discover that due to his arms he can’t even catch a football satisfactorily, which depending on the variety of football you are talking about in your particular scenario, and which position on that team you choose to play him in, could mean that you’d wasted your first pick on a player who potentially could not perform at level as high as you’d hoped. Plus what if the referee asked it to ‘hand me the ball please?’ Yeah, good luck winning the penalty count in THAT game…

And adjacent to the giant people slurping portal to Dimension Karlilk, known in dimension circles as the place Hell WISHES it could be…

Is where Luke lives.

Luke doesn’t get many visitors these days.

No one is really sure why. 

Hard to eradicate

Here's something not enough people think about often enough: 

"There are few individual grains of sand which have achieved enough in the fields of hairdressing, hair undressing or undressing hairless rug salesmen to raise the profile of things that mostly come in grain like forms to a level of household relevance, and yet MANY individual grains of sand HAVE raised their own individual profiles enough to warrant being personally styled by the hairdressers to the stars, at least for fancy sandwich-press grand openings! Which are events sadly ignored by the press.

Wow. The lessons here are clearly clear. 

'What are they then Dave?'
'What David?'
'You said they were clearly clear so what are they?'
'They're clearly CLEAR, I don't need to  share them, that's what being clearly clear means'
'No, being clearly clear means being so clear you clearly can't be seen, and if I can't see you then of course I need you explained to me'
'But you can see me, you're looking right at me' 
'I know that, but that's not clear'
'Of course it's not, I'm not a ghost you dick, how is that not clear to you?' 
'If it was clear I'd be looking through you, not AT you, you piece of shit'
'No need for name calling you motherfucker'
'Wow, wow, wow'
'Wow what?'
'Wow, this section of dialogue really has NOT made this blog make any more sense than it previously did'
'No it doesn't, but that doesn't explain the above' 
'Which bit of the above?' 
'ALL of it, every last fucking bit' 
'Okay, OKAY, I'll admit it. It doesn't mean ANYTHING, well except the obvious'
'Which is what'
'Sand is stupid'
'Oooohhhh, clearly. I mean shit, fucking hell, just say THAT next time' 
'Sure, of course'
'Cool, thanks, (smiley face)'
'Yay. So is this bit done?'
'I think so'
'Then why are we still talking?'
'I don't know'
'Then stop'
'You stop'
'No YOU stop cunt face'
'Seriously dude, I mean SERIOUSLY, it's pretty clearly clear that that is bad term' 
'I know, I didn't mean it, I just desperately want this section to end'
'So do I'
'Well stop talking then'
'YOU stop talking' 
'No you fucking stop fucking talking'
'No fuck you, you fucking stop fucking talking you fuck'
'Ohhhhhh, yeah, okay, yeah that'll work'
'Yeah I think so too'
'Let's try it'
'Starting when?'
'Now would work'
'Oh oh, you know what would work even better?'
'Starting n........'

Today's blog was brought to you by:

- Hairy sand, you think it hurts YOU to wax your bikini line? Well hairy sand is made up of ONLY bikini line, ouch. And 
- Dialogue sections that fail to either excite, enhance or even slightly explain the nonsense that proceed them. And 
- Decisions. Great decisions, decisions like deciding to walk places more, but also awful decisions, decisions like thinking 'I haven't blogged regularly in ages and I want to get back to it, just start writing something, ANYTHING, you'll find SOMETHING interesting eventually'. And 
- Eventually. A time period clearly not discovered in this particular blog. Wait wait wait 'Clearly clearly' not discovered in this blog, and if you can't see that, then that's what that term means"

Yep, people don't think about the above NEARLY often enough. And you know fucking what? I'm okay with that.