Thursday, July 30, 2015

Smile Please - A Poem

Greg, a twenty-eight year old accountant from Mount Gambier South Australia, read online that over the course of his life he was destined to spend the equivalent of two hundred full days brushing his teeth.

'If I focus really hard I could knock that off by the time I'm thirty and never have to worry about it again!' He immediately thought with an enlightened glee. 

By day three of near constant scrubbing his teeth were a bloody mess.
Something Greg was well aware of.
As the thought of his future getting-ready-for-work routine being flush with previously unheard of levels of lack of teeth worry freedom, left him with a near permanent, wide- mouthed, blood-ravaged, toothy smile.

Post Teleportation Society

It was now a post-teleportation society.
Things had changed.

Many of them for the better. 
People who'd climbed to the top of Everest, for example, could no longer be boasting bores who seemingly talked about nothing else.
As they'd now get shut down in ten seconds...
'Oh politics, if you ask me you really have to be dedicated if you want to get any revolutionary policies before the house these days, it reminds me of my Everest climb... wait, fuck, where am I... Oh very funny Steve, did you teleport me to the top of Everest you dick?' was now a commonly said sentence.

But there were down sides to this new society too, like sometimes your friends would think it was funny to teleport you places, like the top of Everest, and after two or three times you'd be forced to learn that it didn't matter if you were planning a trip or not, or that for some reason teleportation devices were awkwardly designed and were cumbersome and pointy in your pocket, but you better damn well carry one at all times, because climbing down Everest in shorts was chilly, and asking one of the thousands of people already up there to borrow theirs was a major social social faux-pas, almost to the magnitude of letting someone buy you a drink in a bar and then not offering to buy the next round. 

Still, there were other fun elements too. 
Like boys weekends in fun exotic locations like the new Himalayan themed casino in Vegas, or on top of Everest, first dates at romantic places like 'Ice Ice Ice' Paris's number one Everest inspired bistro, or perhaps the top of Everest, or even just having easy access to Hutty Hutty, the world's most happening Tiki Bar, located right there on the top of Everest. 

Yep it was a post-teleportation society. 
And almost everyone was well travelled, enveloped in romance and adventure, and dripping with happiness like a snow bank on Everest being decimated under the weight and heat of endless visitors. 

Everyone was happy, that is except Don Caruana. 
The inventor of the teleportation-device. 
He wasn't happy at all...
Because in all the years since his invention had taken off, not one person had teleported to his house for a visit. 
Because his previous greatest achievement, climbing Everest, now seemed pedestrian. 
And because he'd turned down the chance to buy shares in Hutty Hutty BEFORE it took off, and he now has to wait in line to get in just like every other shluby loser. 
But mostly because of the complaints. 
His cats would often hear him muttering...
'Oh it's cumbersome in your pocket is it? Oh Everest is too crowded now is it? Well I'm working on a fucking time machine and I'm going to go back and UNINVENT the teleportation device, and soon you'll never even remember it existed!'

And most of us don't. 

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Saliva Life - A Poem

Simone was a licker. 
'It's NOT a sexual thing' she would swiftly have to say, whenever the topic was raised.
As it turned out men often hear 'lick' and automatically think of their 'dick'.
Simone hated this. 
Her licking things was an obsessive compulsive affliction.
She'd been licking hundreds of things a day since she was a little girl.
She'd licked everything from train seats, light posts, food packaging, zoo animals, sporting equipment, newspapers, telephones, cruise ships, knitting needles, to restaurant menus and even vases!!! 
Sometimes vases that didn't even have bloody flowers in them.
It was a serious issue. 
She HAD to lick things or else she'd have panic attacks and break downs, and sometimes if she hadn't licked something new for a few hours the desire would bubble into such a frenzy that she'd find herself going on lick binges that could last days on end.
And leave her mouth dry.
Like super dry.
At least TWO glasses of water needed to rectify the situation dry.
It was the worst aspect of her life.
She felt vulnerable wherever she went.
And these animals and their dirty minds often made her feel like a freak. 
Those bastards. 
They were worse than the need to lick itself. 
She thought it was a situation with literally no upside.
However, unbeknownst to Simone, on at least a dozen occasions, men getting lost in their lustful hallucinations, saved her from purchasing expensive and unwanted white-goods in shops with staunch and unwavering storewide 'you lick it you buy it' policies. 

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Reven, the Bear Headed Raven

Reven, the Bear Headed Raven, was beginning to limp.
He knew instinctively this was bad.
Because things don't typically begin and then just end.
It would not be described as a beginning in that case. 
Things that begin... then continue. 
No one was saying that Reven, The Bear Headed Raven, was 'temporarily' limping for example.
Which would have been bad it's own right. 
Limping of any kind being a sign of injury. 
Injury being a sign of weakness.
And weakness being a sign of deliciousness. 
I mean who among us hasn't sat around Christmas or Thanksgiving dinner and said 'Mmmmmm, yum, this Turkey is weaker than a little girl with polio'?
So I'm glad I cleared that up.

And even though the bear part of Reven had no natural predators.
The raven part had many. 
It's part and parcel of being a new species.
Most of the animals that are potentially destined to eat you have yet to have a taste and are keen to try you out. 
Even if they risk having their face eaten off themselves by your bear parts. 
But when it comes to new meat flavors, sometimes it's worth losing a cheek, and maybe an eye, for a sample.
Which is where the popular phrase to describe someone who is hungry 'you look like like you're seething with cheekless eye envy' originated. 
So I'm glad I cleared that up. 

Finding a mate was hard too. Whether gimped with a limp OR fully fit. 
Bears weren't attracted to him because bears are notoriously not attracted to wings.
Some even go as far as to say 'I wouldn't bang a winged creature with a koala's dick'.
Koalas of course being the go-to make fun of species to bears, given them wearing the bear moniker, but in no way honoring the spirit in the title. 
Pandas are of course very happy about this, as it rescues them from much mocking in bear circles.
Sometimes they'll make fun of koalas themselves, saying epically cruel things like 'yeah have another nap', or 'ha ha you eat leaves, everyone knows shoots are where it's at'. 
Deep down though they feel ashamed of themselves, 'bullying to avoid bullying, how did it come to this?' They'll think while trying to make a koala cry. 
It leads to a lot of panda shame-based erectile dysfunction, but that's a whole other issue. 
It's kind of like the Welsh making fun of the Irish, in hoping to avoid the English making fun of them. 
Which finally explains why the Welsh rarely getting caught banging Pandas.
So I'm glad I cleared that up. 

And ravens are scared of mating with a bear headed creatures. 
Because due to an evolutionary anomaly the bear head was looking backwards, and so it would look you right in the eyes during coitus, which ravens hate.
Due to them usually preferring to close their eyes and pretend they're actually making love with parrots and toucans. 
Which is where the popular pick up line 'hey baby, you're more colorful than the minds-eye of a nut busting scavenger bird' comes from.
So I'm glad I cleared that up.  

But finding a mate wasn't on Revens mind today.
Only the limp.
Oh and the lizard that, in an incident possibly related to the limp, had earlier bitten Reven's leg and gotten it's teeth stuck in the section between the flesh and the pointy nail/ talon type bit.
And was now being dragged all over the place.
With Bear Headed Raven blood n' puss constantly pouring into its mouth.
Threatening to drown it any minute.
But for now it was living in a hell beyond anything it had ever imagined.
Where being eaten alive would be a be an utter dream right now. 
Which is of course where the classic catholic prayer 'my father in heaven, I'd rather be eaten alive than be the least cool type of reptile drowning in the blood from a for how mythical, but in the future probably real, part dark and mysterious bird, part badass mammal creature, oh plus leprosy looks shit, Amen ' comes from. 
But we all knew that, so that doesn't clear up squat. 

This could easily have been the lizards story of course, rather than Revens. 
But who gives a fuck about stupid lizards, the least cool reptile?
Well the Welsh do. 
But even koalas make fun of them. 
Which is where the hilarious joke 'a lady koala and a Welsh woman walk into a bar, and the barman says, sorry we don't serve drugged up chlamydia riddled whores here, but what would you like Miss Koala?' comes from. 
So I'm glad we cleared that up.

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Uphill Home - A Poem

Alexia had just won an uphill battle. 
She'd been warned by her opponent 'You know you're fighting an uphill battle'.
But she fought anyway. 
Uphill all the way. 
The battle was fierce and brutal. 
The combatants were relentless and steadfast. 
Tears had flowed and blood had spilled. 
And despite the odds she had won. 
And she and her husband had officially put a deposit down on the house with the sun deck, instead of his preferred house, the one with the basement man-cave. 
Her husband was now stubbornly sulking, while holding a tissue to his bleeding nose, caused by sucking snot hard back into his head trying, and failing, to stop his wife knowing he was crying. 
She'd never known a victory so sweet.
The story would be told dozens of times, resulting in boundless streams giggles, whenever her girlfriends came over to the new place to drink champagne and tan. 
He sought his revenge by thinking of these friends in their bikinis when he and Alexia made love. 

Now this is a rare work of art

The following is a poem from the point of view of Pablo Picasso, about a staircase handrail, had he once, in a drunken half asleep dream state, thought it to actually be a sea-lion that had climbed the stairs at his sea-side villa, where he was staying hoping to paint some landscapes, failing to predict inclement weather keeping him indoors, that the villa he rented would come well stocked with help yourself wine, that there would be noisy sea mammals living within steps of the properties boundaries, that when he was not painting as much as usual his always imaginative soul would run wild and manifest itself in alternative outlets, and that having mistaken the handrail for a sea-lion, he had avoided reaching out for it, fearing sea-lion saliva, and as a result had fallen down the stairs: 

Oh Fuck
It was just the handrail 
Best not tell anyone about this 

That was a poem from the point of view of Pablo Picasso, written as if an embarrassing event had taken place in his life, that he wished people not know about, so in attempt to clear it from his sub-conscious had written it into beautiful verse, as always circumnavigating the typical rules and barriers that often suppressed the natural artistic outpouring of his contemptories, and instead creating in some ways a crude, yet colorful and vibrant, representation of his muse, in this case being the fact he felt like a pussy for being scared of sea-lion saliva, which obviously turned out to be a lush source of inspiration. Although of course he didn't want anyone to know about it, so yeah, shhhh. 

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Bout the same

Breaking News Everybody: 


It is, as I type, 11:22 on Saturday night.

The air around me, in my present and immediate environment, surrounding my person and aura, is brisk, chipper and almost hysterically cool, due to it being the heart of winter and I not owning any form of heating.

The rest of my environment full of the noise of my washing machine on spin cycle, which is cleaning my clothes, which grew tainted from their exposure to the human world, the dirty world, the unclean coming from man's lack of grace, oh and from dirt. 

My body is feeling lackadaisical and disresplendent after just completing a participation in a lukewarm shower, the result of current pipe and/or pump issues which continue to strike my building with fear and a lack of bathing satisfaction. 

And it is in this state, this condition, that I bring news, news which is sure to interest almost everyone, or at LEAST no one... 

Yes it's true, after long discussions, deep debate, and extraneous amounts of thought using my brain, I have officially made the following drastic and complicated decision - I am staying in for the evening. 


Alright, calm the fuck down everyone. 

This is obviously very new information, as recently as two hours ago I was ‘thinking of maybe going somewhere, I’m not sure where though’ and at that time, I know I speak for us all, in that we all felt comforted and reassured by that information. 

It was, at the time, a clear sentiment and yet full of possibility, and even opportunity. And those are things that make almost everyone feel good, and optimistic. 

Except donkey herders of course, who like their futures to be ironclad and inauspicious in promise, due to the fact that in their life a surprise is almost ALWAYS a back kicked hoof to the dick, and on the rare occasions it is not this, it’s a back kicked hoof to the vagina (not that there are many female donkey herders, only that once you’ve been kicked in the dick by a donkey a hundred plus times everything kind of turns inside out).

But the information changed, as information is want to do, that’s why they call it the information ‘age’ not the information ‘airtight zip-locked sandwich bag’ (although fun fact if you put your watch in one of those, fill it with water, zip-lock it tight, throw it in the freezer, wait six months, while never once taking your eye off the freezer, then pull it out and throw it into a bonfire, then you will have wasted a LOT of time, and a watch, and a bag of water, and a zip-lock bag, and whatever pants you’ve been peeing and shitting in for six months, oh and it seems like while you were watching the freezer some silly practical joker lit a bonfire in your house). 


This new information is therefore still obviously fresh and new and recent and unexplored and uncharted, except a little bit around the edges, which is where information tends to store it’s ‘huh’ zone anyway. 

So calm the fuck down. Obviously I will have more on this as more comes to hand and not one second before, or more. 

Clearly this new information will not literally come to hand, who hands people information now? Get with the times you dicks!

So fucking WHAT if it's sensitive information? Just say it - 'the rash IS contagious' ok, then let me decide whether I need to say 'shush' or whether I need to say 'shhh', it's my body my choice!

That's a good catch phrase, by the way, rash societies should jump on that.

Just like the rash jumped on THEM, am I right?

No I'm not! Shame on you. Airborne rashes are no laughing matter you dicks, especially ones with the ability to 'spring', or 'launch' themselves.

Cause that involves knees, possibly even ankles, you think a rash with knees and ankles is something to laugh about?

The next step after that will be the development of hips, and possibly even thighs.

Plus, I'm gonna learn you here, some rashes are RED! You got a red thighed rash on your neck and who do you think is gonna come calling?

That's right, dermatologists.

And do you realize how hurtful it is when a dermatologist says to you 'oh that's interesting'.

I know it's interesting you dick, that's why I brought it to you, you think I'm gonna bring you an uninteresting, possibly even boring, rash?

That would make ME one of 'those' people.

And 'they' often naysay potentially exciting new space exploration projects.

'See that star, it's twinkling right now, but just twelve hours from now it may well be twinkle free, and twinkling is my preferred star condition and presentation' I'll say, to site a recent example.
'I say nay to your plan to build a rocket ship out of your old Dell, the congregation of cockroaches in your mega-roach-trap and fuel made out of sour milk, keroisine and thoughts about 'what Jack Kerouac would think about modern professional golf', I say nay all day' they responded. 

What the fuck? And that's the world YOU want to live in? With roach traps un-emptied, sour milk turned clumpy and 'bout the same' unverbalized???

The point is, staying in is FUN. And it's too cold. Plus it's like 12:39 now which is too late to go anywhere anyway. So stop fucking judging me!!!

Besides you're the weirdos that wanted to know what I think about the modern world of professional rashes.

At least that's how I remember it.

Ps. 'Bout the same'. 



Friday, July 24, 2015

Blowhard - a poem

'It sure is gusty out here'.

McFarely, the first mate on a tug boat, had just made a pertinent point. His first ever. At least as far as O'Brian, his captain, was aware. 

So it was all smiles all around, at least one 'well done mate' was dished out, and two or three suggestions were made that if champagne were allowed on the boat during work hours that a glass and toast would be in order. In fact O'Brian pointed out, that even if a bottle had been smuggled on by McFarley, and that in normal circumstances, this being found out, would be grounds for dismissal, that in this particular instance he would be both willing to turn a blind eye to this act of insubordinate application of protocol, and enthusiastic about the opportunity to celebrate this monumental event. In fact he went as far as to say that in this instance he was HOPING McFarely had broken this, normally STRICTLY enforced rule.

McFarely was touched, and felt a significant amount of pride. 

The only thing stopping him being overwhelmed with emotion at O'Brian's kind endorsement, was a nagging voice in the back of his head saying 'maybe O'Brian just wants to get dunk, seeing as this gustiness is surely evidence that the cyclone we were warned of is about to hit'.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

Crow Crime - a poem

The positive, yet silent, crow sat on a telephone wire. 

He was positive because he'd just eaten a pink cupcake that he'd pinched off a small child who responded by making a weird wailing noise akin to the sound females make when they have decided to seek a new lover, and she had leaked water from her face the way his favorite cave's walls did when a drought had broken. So he took this as a great omen for his life to take a new direction, full of love, and rich with possibility. 

He was silent because, as he was to imminently discover, the feeling he felt welling in his throat was not in fact pride at a well pinched meal, but mealy growing symptoms of an allergic reaction to the pretty pink frosting, and that within the hour he'd be dead. 

Later that night a drug deal was conducted below him, as teenagers mistook his dangling corpse as a pair of tied on shoes. 

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Careful consideration

'Lean in, lean as far as you can, until your thighs are aching like like a little girl told her doll will get its head reattached "in a minute", and your calfs think you're about to attempt to launch yourself into the stratosphere and are starting to question where this desire to fly originated and why it wasn't informed earlier, "we've got to communicate damn it", and your groin muscles are screaming "no one will laugh at us anymore after this ordeal, our days of being the giggliest part of the body are done, suck on that respiratory gland" and your face is going "alright calm down, CALM the FUCK DOWN, this nose is already a little crooked and we do not want to give the people MORE reason to miss the sparkle in our eyes, do you not remember July 15th 2011 and the horrific 'did you used to be a boxer incident?'", and your lower back is muttering "core muscles aren't showy and glamorous, so we don't work our core do we? Fucking asshole, no one cares about me, well wait 58 more years when I give out you dick, you just see how much it turned out you needed me" and the guy standing on the other side of the street is yelling "you alright mate, you look like you're about to topple over like a man made of a really rubbery cheese on a really rubbery cheese unfriendly time of the year due to consistent wind", and a bird comes and perches on you, on the most horizontal part of you, which is no longer your shoulders but now your back, and starts squawking, cause when it typically lands on people it lands on their shoulders and then pecks on their delicious ear wax, but now your ears are all the way over there so what the fuck is it supposed to peck on now damn it! Moles? Those taste like shit! I'm saying lean motherfucker, until your beautiful sparkly eyes are as close to the ground as possible, and you tell that gnat to "drop the fucking letter g already, you ain't fooling anyone" screamed Scott Seilder, life coach, to his new client Ron Killon.

'Um, ok, when I said I feel like the letter g on the word gnat, I just meant I feel useless, it's not actually about the gnat' replied Ron. 

'Alright just be a pussy your whole life then' snapped Scott. 

Ron was starting to think he didn't need a life coach after all, on the other hand for the first time in his life rhinoplasty seemed important. Yep, this sure was $978 poorly spent. 

Monday, July 20, 2015

Growing - A poem

'Oh I'm swine am I?' Began Craig, upon being called swine by stranger he had just found himself conflicting with, on the subject of whether or not it was appropriate to attempt to summon a demon in a church, whether a genuine attempt to make a connection with a dark spirit from the depths of hell, or merely said as an ironic quip born from an overwhelming assault of God related paraphernalia smashing into the mind of a youthful traveler still new to exploring the many mighty, and astonishingly beautiful, cathedrals of Europe, and steadfast in his desire to find the fun, inspiration and humor in any and all of the new adventures, situations, places, and experiences which had come to consume his entire life and existence.

'Well I'm not a hundred percent sure what that is, but it sounds like a dick thing to say, and you're an ugly old fucking cow, and you can take that fucking nuns outfit and stick it up your untouched snatch'! he continued.

It turned out that his abilities to relate to different types of people, some of whom came from backgrounds and influences with vast contrasts with his own, and to express himself with respect and dignity, had perhaps not yet quite caught up with the open spirit of his new life, and maybe he had just a tad of growing still to do.

Just to be clear

'Have you ever felt you ran with grace' asked Jasper, a man thinking about mugging another man, named Herb, in what had the potential to be Jasper's first ever mugging of another person, although if Jasper was honest with himself his first line hadn't sounded as intimidating out-loud as it had in his head. 

All he had meant was 'I have a knife, don't run'. But he had wanted to avoid such bluntness, he wasn't proud that his life had taken this turn, 'so why not have some class about it?' He'd reasoned. 

'I'm betting not, and if you can't do something with grace and poise then I say don't do it!' He continued, still failing to project even a hint of the menace that he had hoped. 

'So just don't!' He added, as an intended tag to his practically absent threat. Realistically adding only to confusion, which is the opposite of bluntness, so I guess Jasper had achieved part of his goal.

'How did you know?' Replied Herb, with wet eyes, and an enlightened smile.

Herb had held a secret for much of his adult life you see, he'd dreamed of dancing ballet, he'd thought of it daily, yet never pursued it out of fear, but now here was a sign. It was time to do it, to let his inner desires burst into beautiful dance.

Herb ran from Jasper, not with grace, but with the lightness of joy, aspiration, and a life fresh with meaning.

Six weeks later a room full of admissions staff laughed in his face. For it seemed 86 was too old to audition for the New York Conservatory of dance. 

Had Jasper just said 'give us your money' it would have saved Herb $3220 in travel fees and $97.30 in tights. 

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Watch Out - a poem

Gerald threw a spanner into the works.
It was a BIG spanner too.
About the size of a hatchback.
And they were small works also.
Basically a wrist watch sized mechanism.
But also literally a wrist watch mechanism. 
Which was attached to the back of a wrist watch.
Which is to say that it was a watch that he was breaking. 
He didn't so much stop the cogs spin, as obliterate the watch to the point of people starting to question how this mess could EVER have been a watch.
People began to question their own memories 'I remember a watch being there, but there is no chance that was ever a watch, therefore my memory must be false, what else do I think has happened that isn't real? Help me, help me, help me, my whole life could be a lie' some of them would be heard to say.
Gerald was also concerned 'I still don't get it, when I asked out Stacey her boyfriend, who I didn't know she had just to be clear, I'm not an immoral dick, said to me "you really fucked me over dude, even though she didn't say yes, you put something in her mind, you really threw a spanner in the works, you know?" But even now that I have literally thrown a spanner in the works I still didn't know what he meant' he thought. 
It was rather frustrating.
Although, on that day, he did start to find some clarity over some other aspects of his life.
Like why other kids would say to him 'geez, were you conceived in a nuclear power plant'.
Why his dad had bought his first tool kit at The Emporium For Giants.
Why coach REALLY, REALLY, REALLY wanted him on the football team. 
 Why he was the only kid at school who used two jeeps as roller skates.
Why his Dad was occasionally on Game Of Thrones even though he'd never acted before. 
Why he thought a full sized deep fried cow was only an appetizer.
And why he could never find a band for his watch that fit around his wrist. 
'I guess being a teenager is just confusing for everyone' he sighed, as he fell asleep that night, accidentally crushing the bridge he was using as a pillow. 

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Stop the soup bigotry

Let's face it, you're currently thinking about eating soup. Whether it's because you're in the Southern Hemisphere and, like me, you are freezing your ass off in winter, or whether you're in the warmth of the northern hemisphere summer and you want soup because you casually said to someone recently 'I'm sort of in the mood for soup' and they responded 'really, that's more of a winter meal' and you replied 'STOP BEING SO DIETARY SEASONALLY PREJUDICED, YOU MOTHERFUCKER' and now you're about to eat soup just to stick it in their fucking bigoted faces. Either way, I don't think you should risk it, not at least until you have watched this video...


Friday, July 17, 2015

Amazing Developments

One of the great things about being me, and doing what I do, is that amazing opportunities regularly float to me like a balloon in the wind, kid crying because his balloon is gone and all. But sometimes the balloon ends up being a different type of balloon than I was expecting, sometimes it isn't even a balloon at all, but instead it's an opportunity.

I was recently contacted by the world renown scientific organization The Society of Sciency Stuff. Obviously they need no introduction, we've all read their Nobel Prize winning research papers, and who among us doesn't spend at least an hour a day pondering just how they figured out that Black Holes may not be holes at all?? Truely marvelous stuff. And now is where the marvelous turns into the marvtacular (a word The Society of Sciency Stuff discovered!) because they sent me the following letter:

Dear Mr Tieck,

My name is Norman Farleigh, and I am the current Head of Brilliance at The Society Of Sciency Stuff. I'm sure you know who we are, EVERYONE does, but you may not know this, we also know who you are, in fact we are all MASSIVE fans of yours, and we're scientists so we know just how big 'massive' really is.

Now is where things get even more Marvelriffic (our new discovery that we're releasing to the world for the first time with THIS letter to you, congrats). We've all been consumed with love for all your books, devoured your blogs, been moved by your art and poetry, and we've collectively come to a consensus (something that actually comes easy to us, because as scientists we deal exclusively in facts) at our wonderful society we have sixteen members with Nobel Prizes, and twenty two members with, in our opinion, the equally prestigious 'Smart Things, Science and Math and Things Like That Awards'. But having broken down all of your wonderful work, and especially some of your recent scientific insight, we've made yet another amazing discovery (admittedly discovering stuff is something we do almost every day and truly excel at, but this is a particularly amazing one) we've discovered that hidden within the humor and beauty, that seemingly pours out of you both prolifically and consistently brilliantly, you also have a brilliant scientific mind. In fact probably the hundred best scientific minds in the universe are in our organization, and we think you out Science everyone of us. You truly are marveltastic.

Oh fuck, guys, guys, guys get in here, I just discovered ANOTHER ONE! Shit I left the voice dictation on.

We have an offer for you, one that we are all hoping, and even praying (something we only do when we super care about something, or occasionally while watching sports) that you'll take, we'd like to make a series of high budget, brilliantly executed videos to show off some of your scientific knowledge. Please say yes and we'll fly you to a super fancy film studio and give you vast sums of money.

Yours Faithfully,
Norman Fairleigh
Head of Brilliance
The Society of Sciency Stuff

Margaret! Can you come in here, I've finished, how do I send this thing? Also I'm still waiting for that fucking apple cider I asked for, shit I think the voice thing is still on, this technology really is Marvacinating, oh holy hell ANOTHER ONE, Norman Fairleigh, stand up you brilliant bastard, you're a discovery motherfucking MACHINE!!!!!


Wow. You get an offer like that you jump on it. So here is not one, but TWO  exciting episode of my new show, as produced by the magnificent people at the world renowned The Society of Sciency Stuff, ladies and gentleman - You've Been Scienced!

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

A beautiful opportunity for us all

I feel like it's been days since I last bought a product that ended up totally failing to do what it promised, but then when I got mad and hurled the item at the wall smashing to bits it's cheap plastic exterior, I discovered that it's insides were made of pure diamondgold. Maybe even weeks! What the fuck is going on? 

You know what, I blame modern science, so scared to cross breed stuff these days, so what, when they Crossbred Southern Blue Fin Tuna and Chimpanzees back in the 1940s and the resulting Chimpunas ended up taking film roles that had previously gone to dogs, and the dog Union sued, claiming they had more right to be 'the cute loyal sidekick' as they'd 'existed longer' which really pissed off a few of the people trying to get 'television' off the ground - 'so how long you've existed suddenly matters' - I'm sure you all remember the protest signs read.

And then obviously the Chimpunas got some flack for refusing to elect a strong leader capable of expressing the Chimpunas point of view and feelings on the whole matter, leading some commentators to argue that 'a morally weak new species shouldn't be allowed to stay' which just exasperated the underground smear campaigns that had begun on all sides, and ultimately the the Chimpunas made a brave yet heartbreaking decision to as a species decide to no longer breed and let their kind die out on their own terms, leading the scientist who had originally paid a Chimp fifty bucks to fuck a fish to think it had been a waste of money. But that's no reason not to try again people!!! 

It's not like the Chimpunas were a total failure, we all still have favorite movies with them as the handsome rugged star's pet and proof of a softer side. And out of only a hundred or so ever sold as pets, THREE, of their owners ended up dedicating novels to their Chimpunas. Sure they were only EVER sold to artists, writers, actors and models, in what became a controversial program of selective selling in hope of encouraging their use and presence in pop-culture to drive up both demand and prices, but guerrilla marketing was in its infancy back then, and people didn't know that what's a fad among pop-stars and socialites today always ultimately results in a backlash, and eventually what's become known as 'stamping the tramp' when a fad jumps the shark, with popularity turning to scorn and ridicule. But again this is no reason not to try again. 

And yes, it turned out that just before Chimpunas died they were strangely wired to go on a rampage, or 'death march' as the media typically reported it, which often included bizarre deep sea fishing trips followed by attempts to open sushi restaurants  deep in The Congo jungle, which completely baffled zoologists, but people forget, these restaurants failed not because of a lack of effort on behalf of the Chimpunas, but mostly because of an utterly unpredictable struggle to balance traditional Japanese food preparation methods and African jungle parasite control. And people also forget that these 'failures' were regularly sited as to have 'directly influenced and inspired' Nitishi 'The Emperor' Nitashi to launch 'Elephant Tusk Sushi', which was the world's number ONE African Jungle themed sushi chain from conception right up to the release of the Time Magazine expose which revealed both that how exactly The Emperor sourced the signature elephant tusks that adorned all forty two hundred of his resteraunts (including his sixteen hundred odd franchises) and also that part of his 'secret soy recipe' was in fact the African parasites all his loyal customers had just foolishly 'assumed' he'd managed to eradicate. But again, this can hardly be blamed on the Chimpunas. 

Well I say if the scientists have backed off this new potentially beautiful cross breeding opportunity then it's up to us civilians to take it on, so if you own some gold and some diamonds at home, don't leave it up to science, start your own cross breeding program, and I'll tell you what, promise me the first litter and I'll totally fork out the required fifty bucks to get them to fuck. 

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Your Own Private Sun

I know what you're all currently thinking - 'I'd love to have a nice tan, but outside people stare at me, and those sun-bed things a too glowey and blue'.

And you're absolutely correct, the current methods of tanning are deeply flawed, annoying and even different from how you DREAM they could be. 

However, I must implore you, before you do something drastic, and I know exactly what you're planning, please, please take note of these basic things to think about BEFORE, in order to have a way to properly sun-tan in a fun and convenient, blue glowless way - you use science to create your own mini-sun in your living room - and I'm not talking about like a fake one, I'm saying a genuine star, an endlessly flaming ball of gas, with a gravitational pull, and no off switch.

1. There's also the option of a fake one.
2. A real sun is fucking dangerous. Sun flares, UV Rays, the fact if you look at it you'll go blind, interference with your TV signal, so like you may end up watching TV with a slight hum to the soundtrack! That's a big risk to take. 
3. Plus if having a tan stops being of major interest to you, you can't just turn off a sun. It's not like a bucket of water will do it, it may take three or four buckets!! 
4. You'll probably first have to become the greatest scientist that's ever lived, and are you sure a tan goes well with those white lab coats you'll now always be wearing? 
5. Cause lab coat tan lines are only sexy to a small, yet committed, group of a very specific type of person. 
6. That is people who are both science nerds and yet influenced by fashion magazine ideas of what constituents beauty, with an active willingness to accept that neither camp will be fully satisfied, yet both well represented. 
7. Occasionally you're going have to deal with a hobo using your sun to cook a pigeon on a stick.
8. To become the greatest scientist who ever lived you'll probably have to read at least one, maybe two, science books, and those can be dense with Sciency stuff. 
9. If you wear blue tinted sun-glasses even this star may look blue, glowey even, at least when it's day time, which for you will now be always. 
10. All that vitamin D is going to make your vitamin B supplies jealous. 
11. Guests to your home will probably start saying 'excuse me, what the hell is that?' And if you're already conversing with them, which you most likely will be, the 'excuse me' will come off as redundant and rude. 
12. You won't need a clothes dryer anymore, so if you've just bought one you've wasted your money, how can you be trusted to take care of a star if you can't even take care of your own god damn finances? 
13. It'll take up space that could be used to store an awesome ice-sculpture.
14. And no, you DEFINITELY can't have both.
15. Unless you have really, really good air-conditioning. 
16. If you have any ghost friends they may not understand why you don't respect their night time spooky activities, so you're opening yourself up for some ghosts wanting to haunt you, which is impossible during the day, so you're going to have some friggin' frustrated ghosts around, that you'll never see again. 
17. The Society of Sciency Stuff will probably hound you to become a member, which means your social life will be about to get EPIC, meaning your tanning time will plummet. 

So seriously think about it, ARE you willing to deal with ALL that? If so then happy tanning! If not your welcome to come use my sun anytime, or even just come check out my tan lines, 0.0032% of people say 'they're specific and SEXY!' 

The Scientist

Cameron is a scientist.
'But that's not all I am' he'd say when described that way 'I'm also an excellent conversationalist, like watch this - how about this weather, it's actually caused by a cold winds blowing inland off the ocean, running into a pocket of hot air isolated in this valley because of a high pressure system'.
Yeah yeah, ok Cameron I believe you, but let me finish your profile before you talk again please.
'Ok Dave'.

So where was I, oh yes, Cameron is a scientist.
'Sorry, did I not convince you about my conversation skills, that's ok, um, how about the latest episode of that medieval era fantasy series, I found the historical inaccuracies to be both warranted and creative, and rather than take me out of the reality of the scenarios presented they instead added to the drama and intrigue, creating suspense and twists that kept me, the viewer, on the edge of my seat, or more accurately with my back occasionally developing space between it and my upper vertical cushion'.

Yeah ok Cameron, that was good, but if you don't mind, just let me get through this profile before you speak again.

'My apologies'.

Cameron is a scientist.

'Sorry, it's just, you've already said that twice, and I'm not denying the truth in the sentiment, but I am more than a scientist, I have other things about me, I like socializing for example, I was entered in a pub trivia competition the other evening with a merry bunch of fascinating men and women, who all enjoyed my particular take on how I believe pedestrian traffic would flow faster in peak, or rush hour, segments of the day, which are actually typically periods longer than a standard western measurement of an hour, although historically different societies and nations around the world at different times have listed a variety of time periods under a definition of a word that roughly translates into English as an "hour", but the point being the pedestrian traffic would flow smoother if we banned window shopping during busy times, and required casual shoppers to enter the stores they were intrigued by'.

Yes, yes Cameron, that's an excellent idea, but this PROFILE would flow faster if you'd stop interrupting me ok?

'You’re right, I am truly sorry'.

Alright, so, Cameron is a scientist...

'Um, Da..'

BUT BUT BUT, that's not all he is...

'Can I...'

HE'S ALSO, if he'll let me speak, my doubles tennis partner, the inventor of the 'lint roller', a humanitarian known for his many charitable trips to various third world countries, a contributor to the New York Times 'insights into imperiousness' series, a former Tour De France competitor, organizer of the extremely popular East Village Art Walk, a part time brain surgeon, the world’s foremost World War Two era bi-plane wing surfer, a regular CIA consultant in matters regarding national security, one of only eleven known humans who can recite every line of dialogue in the entire godfather series INCLUDING everything said by every extra and background performer, even when what they are saying is not audible, an expert in body language and lip reading, the author of six highly regarded volumes of sonnets, and my long time absolute best friend, is that enough Cameron you needy prick? That was all always in the profile, but you just had to fucking interrupt me didn’t you, so now I look like I have forced all that in to make it look like I wasn’t going to call you ‘just a scientist’ not that that wouldn’t be something to be proud of in itself, and you know what, you didn’t just make me look like a dick, you probably made yourself look stupid too, because now half the people here are thinking ‘wow, what a great introduction, this guy obviously really regards his friend, shame his friend doesn’t seem to reciprocate’ and the other half are thinking ‘he probably made half that shit up just because this Cameron guy was being a needy cunt’, so well done you fucking ass. Anyway, it is Science week here at The Society of Sciency Stuff, and I would like you to please now give a warm, warm The Society of Sciency Stuff welcome, to your keynote speaker, here to give his famous ‘why being a scientist is badass’ speech, ladies and gentleman…. CAMERON!!!!!