Big whistle news

'After a long exhausting study, encompassing quizzes, questionnaires, questioning the quiz masters on the their questioning techniques and even querying quarantine rules in Queensland (an EPIC dead-end) there's been an official declaration, and as such I've officially been sanctioned to make the official announcement..... whistling IS fun!'

'Now calm down. I know this is a controversial finding, and I will of course address some of the key points that I assume to be causing this ruckus, who has a question?'

"Hello, Mr Simmons here, high-school teacher, and amateur botanist, was it noted that people in prison have been known to whistle, and that prison doesn't look like fun, so how could prisoners be doing something fun, how damn it, explain that?"

'Yes Mr Simmons, firstly thank you for identifying the rare fern that's roots had grown into my plumbing last week, of course identifying it did nothing to get me hot water again, but at least now I get to yell "fuck you Lycopodium" while I shower, and in answer to your question of course that was noted, and it was studied, I believe a questionnaire was even developed, possibly even implemented, and I can tell you this, despite everything we know about prison life, from toothbrush shivs to arguments over who gets the top bunk, all seemingly pointing towards prison being a terrible time, it was discovered that mild fun, such as whistling, did occasionally enter the lives of even prisoners'. 

"Mild fun? MILD FUN? Fuck you David!"

'I'm sorry Karl, did you have a question?'

"Yes, David, you condescending ass, whistling is not MILD fun, it's a LOT of fun, and I'm not going to stand here and listen to a pastime I adore be tarnished like this". 

'Oh thank you Karl, well done on not getting a question in during this question and answer session, and yes, I have noticed that while you've been at my house this week, apparently fixing my plumbing, I've heard a LOT of whistling, but felt NO hot water!'

"You motherfucker, do you know how hard it is to get lycopodium out of old plumbing? So I whistle to make it less torturous, sue me dick".

'You've just sold yourself out Karl, whistling only makes it "less torturous"? If it should be classified as "a LOT of fun" as you so passionately like to argue, surely that would do more than just reduce the torture that doing your job apparently is! Learn to argue smart you friggin' idiot'.

'Who else has a question? Yes Claudia Hulper'.

"When do you think Karl will be done at your place? I have been affected by the lycopodium infestation as well, and with no water in my house I've been forced to drink champagne which really tickles my throat".

'Sorry Mrs Hulper, can we stay on topic please, whistling'.

"Oh I'm sorry, I thought it was damn obvious that whistling was fun, and yet this town has just spent years and a ton of effort and money on a study while simultaneously allowing a rare fern to ravage the town?"

'Ok, well if I you people are going to come to town meetings drunk maybe we'll just stop running them'. 

'Well if no one has anymore questions then that's it for tonight. shut up Karl, you've had your say. We'll reconvene in several weeks, or as soon as we have the results to our NEW study finished, currently titled - Grazing ones knee, fun? Last I heard they were already querying the squeamish on how they feel about spinach quiche, so results may well be immanent. So thanks for coming, and good night citizens of Ourtaxessurearehighville, don't forget to grab a lycopodium juice on the way out!' 

Colored-in pink - a poem

I was talking to my friend Fred the other day. 

He's going through a tough time.

Which is tough for him.

Because he's a drawing of a dragon.

And he's supposed to be tough.

But he didn't feel though. 

Because he'd been colored-in pink. 

And he had a unicorn horn drawn on his forehead. 

And there were several drops of dog pee on the mountain drawn adjacent to him.

And the mountain looked lame. 

Like a snow capped turd. 

Only not that turdy, more like a brown triangle really.

But it looked more like turd than a mountain.

And it was supposed to be a mountain.

So that's super lame. 

And he had a huge fold through his midsection.

Cause some idiot had thought it was ok to put him in a pocket.

A pocket damn it. 

That's no place to put art.

Art should be on a wall.

Or in one of those art folders.

You know the ones? 

They're like folders.

But made for art. 

And he was unable to breathe fire like so many of his friends could.

Which is such a let down when you're a drawing of a dragon. 

It's probably one of the top five best things about being a dragon.

Better than being hunted by knights at least.

And if your going to cop that you want to be able to breathe fire at them. 

Oh plus his best friend is a delusional man that's thinks you can befriend drawings. 

Yep Fred's doing it tough.

I'm doing well though, so things aren't too bad.

Humankind is pretty sweet

There have been some great achievements made by humankind. I think we can pretty much all agree with a statement like that. You poll 88 people outside a mall and I bet you 80 of them will say 'yeah, I can agree there have been some great achievements by humankind' and that’s a high number, especially when you consider the other three options in the multiple choice were A. Nah fuck that, I'm not agreeing to shit. B. Yeah sure, but what about floods, can we think about floods for a minute please? And D. I'll blow you for some weed. And here is the thing, out of the eight people who didn't answer C, at least four of them will say 'meh' when you ask them the follow up question - can you think of a species that's made more great achievements, when looking at volume of achievements rather than specific quality and while looking only at achievements in a vacuum devoid of failures, which we don't discount existing, just we're choosing not to factor them in at this specific time?

So I think we've established humans have made some great achievements, I mean just think of them, houses, hats, questionnaires outside malls, the list is endless. Humans are great

Which brings me to Lewis Grant, a man who is a genius inventor. Now I know Lewis is a genius because I have had my life changed by his work, changed for the better, possibly even enriched, which is like being rich without the models. So I rate Lewis. Just think of some of his amazing inventions most of us use every day:

- His canoe that constantly updates paddlers on the pollution levels of the body of water it’s floating in and with it the danger of falling in.
- The number Forfth, falling conveniently between fourth and fifth which saves us all constantly having to write 'sort of between fourth and fifth' which is particularly helpful when debating which period of Beethoven's life he was most in favor of implying curfews on squirrels.
- The phrase 'blast your cursing ape' which he coined after his neighbor bought a pet ape and gave it a ghetto blaster and a tape of children learning swear words from teenagers, but a phrase that has since found ironic popularity it artisan cookie circles.
- His guided hospital gown with a tracking device allowing fans of saggy sick person butt to time their 'visits to sick friends’ in hospitals perfectly.
- And of course the product that he made a name for himself with, his amazing hair wax that's only 86% as greasy as your leading brand name waxes, as we all know called 'almost touchable'.

Most of us use all of these at least a dozen times a week, at least those of us that have been enriched by them enough to afford them. So I think we've now established two things:

1. Humankind has made some great achievement.
2. Well not all of humankind, Lewis Grant is lifting at least six people's loads, lift your own loads you lazy bastards!

This is what I was thinking when Lewis invited me to his house this week. This was no social visit. Lewis claimed he’d hit the mother load, his crowning achievement, and possibly humankind's greatest moment, and he’d offered me, as a world renowned journalist, a chance to be the first to see it.

‘It’s a ray machine that makes people disappear’ he said, as we both stood over what looked like science fiction laser blaster, ‘and here’s the thing, it also leaves the entire world with no evidence or memory of the person, including making it so the rays user has no memory of using it!’

‘But then how do you know it works if you don’t remember using it?’ I asked, being a world renowned journalist obviously trains you to ask awesome questions like this.
‘Oh I know it works, because as I stand here I literally have no memory or proof of existence of any human that I may have used it on, if it didn’t work there would be a paper train, memories, possibly even people calling up saying “have you seen Todd?” but there is literally nothing’ he said, very convincingly.

‘WOW’ I replied, again using my excellent journalism skills.
'Also think about this, is anyone bothering us right now?' Lewis asked.
'Well your maid keeps giving me pissed off looks when I look at her like she's trying to pocket the Rolex you left on the table over there?'
'Ok, well apart from her?'
'No!'
'That doesn't that strike you as strange?'
'You're right, normally there are more people around, especially since you opened your lab up to the public, increasing your maids workload abundantly, although you chose to not even give her a five percent raise, and you can really afford it, and people are really, really annoying, one of them once asked me for the time, how am I supposed to give someone time, I'm not a fucking doctor!' I replied.
'So it MUST work. I must've gotten rid of them ALL!!!'
'You don't think the cursing ape next door scared them off?' I asked.
‘Nope last week I shot the ape with a tranquilizer gun and relocated it to a poor neighborhood where the cursing wouldn’t be so out of place’

‘So it is true, you’ve done it!’

‘Yes I have’

So there you go ladies and gentleman. All the annoying, rude, nosy, aggravating, fuck head asshole dicks that make up most of the population will soon be gone, and we’ll have no memory they ever existed, just more proof that humankind really has made some great achievements.

You're officially a WINNER!!!

How to be a less wasteful winner

Let's face it, if you are here right now, then you've long been in with the Fleeting Forever program of excellence (created three minutes ago), and as such you're a winner, we're all winners, we win harder than just about anyone, most of us win eight to ten times a day! Congratulations, winning that often is a win in my book, and my book is an award winner. Wow, we all just can't stop winning.

The problem is when you win as often as we all do you can become complacent, sloppy and even casual, so that's why I want to talk about ways to be less wasteful in our relentless winning. And you have to remember that not everyone wins as often as us, some folk barely even win at 87% of things they attempt, a number so low most of us upon encountering it would probably pelt it with medals until it died! Of course then we'd win 'best murder of number' at the international number awards, and be given yachts, but that's just us, and we have to be take all those losers into consideration.

Before we get to some ways to be less wasteful in our winning, let's first look into a little bit of the history of the key elements to winning. 

Celebrations

Winning would be far less fun without the post win celebration, but there was actually a time, before the invention of celebrations, that victories went uncelebrated. In this time winners would instead gather in dive bars, give each other a nod of recognition, and then quietly ponder whether all the effort was worth it, given that there was no tangible benefit to their victory, while drinking until they puked on the floor. This was not frowned upon as frowning upon things had also yet to be invented, so with no tangible drawback the patterns continued. Then one day, a recent winner entered one of these bars, and just as he went to give a nod of recognition to his fellow winners he slipped in vomit and while trying not to fall his arms flung up in the air. He liked it. So did witnesses. Soon after victories people would often come and stand in vomit and throw their arms in the air, and celebration was born. Six or seven decades later someone pointed out that you could throw your arms in the air without standing in vomit, and the celebration of throwing arms in the air without standing in vomit as we now know it became very popular. 

Gloating 

Winning would be far less enjoyably if you couldn't gloat about it to as many people as possible for as long as possible, but there was actually a time, before the invention of gloating, that winning went ungloated. It was a dark, dark time. So dark in fact that most people had to light lots of fires just to see. People would light fires all over the place, and with gloating over recent wins not an option, people would try to prove how much better they were than others by lighting the biggest fires imaginable. One night a man named ‘Norm Trophy' lit a fire so big that the heat it gave off caused his hair, clothes, face and genitalia to melt off. Upon seeing this, a gold merchant trying to figure out a use for the crappy weak soft metal he'd been digging up, thought 'that guy looks bad ass, but he'd look even better made of gold' and later that night he made a gold, hairless, naked, genitalialess statue, he called it 'the trophy' after its inspiration, and gave the first one to Norm. For the next few years Norm could be seen walking around town holding his trophy screaming, my eyes melted out, but I got THIS suckers. Then someone stole it, and replaced it with a dead shaved skunk, but Norm couldn't feel the difference as all the skin on his hands had been melted too, and he'd lost a lot of feeling. The man who pulled off this heist was very proud of himself, and would tell everyone and with that story, gloating as we know and love it, was born.

Winning Itself

Let's face it, winning without the actual winning would be far less awesome if you didn't win, but there was a time, before the invention of winning, when no one EVER won. It was a horrible period of equality, fairness and utopia. But then one day a coyote ate a frog, began hallucinating, saw an old lady and thought she was a magic walking tree allowing peeing on the move and with it saving more time for random wandering, so it followed her into a bingo center and burped out a frog leg on an old man named Anthony's lap, who yelled the ancient traditional Sicilian word for 'oh gross a coyote burped a frog leg on my lap' which turned out to be 'bingo'. No one had ever dreamed of yelling out the name of the game they were playing before, as it was redundant and therefore unnecessary, and the old folk knew that once people discovered they were unnecessary they'd get skinned to be turned into incontinence pads. Realizing what he'd done, in a desperate plea to not be thought of as unnecessary he ran out of the hall, threw Molotov cocktails into the food supply shed, and as the rats and cockroaches poured out he thought 'my god, the pudding' and fought off flames to grab himself a couple of cups. As he was taken away in the ambulance, burned, smoke filled and oozing diarrhea from eating seventeen year old pudding, he yelled out the ancient traditional Sicilian word for 'please only give the incontinence pads made from my skin to the women' which turned out to be 'Winner'. When word got around the old folks home of his three pudding triumph the desire to be a 'winner' swept the residence, some were so excited by the prospect they peed right into their Anthony skin’s made incontinence pads. And winning was born. It's been coveted ever since.

How to be a less wasteful winner 

Now that we have refreshed everyone's memory on the history I am sure we all feel an even greater responsibility to not be a wasteful winner. Here are some fun steps to help you:

- If you think your winnings will be messy wear a bib, and lick it clean after.

- If you win too much in one day to enjoy it all as much as it deserves, simply vacuum pack some winnings and keep in a laboratory strength freezer to save for a day when you only win five or six times.

- If you come across someone who is haphazard with their winnings challenge them to a duel and win, but make sure the terms are set to 'winner takes all winnings'.

So there you go everyone, you can now go out there and win your heart out knowing that you won't be wasteful with those winnings, and if you ask me that's a win - wow WE CAN'T STOP WINNING!!! 

On the run

Roger was on the run from the law.

'I'm on the run from the law!' He'd say when people asked why he was running.

'Oh really? I always thought that was more of a general spirit, rather than a literal thing' people would reply.

'Huh?' Roger would ask.

'What I mean is that I didn't think people running from the law would be literally running, not all the time at least, I thought hiding in basements, cellars, closets or treehouses would be at least half of it?' They'd re-explain.

'Yeah, you're just being ignorant' Roger would accuse. 

'That's a bit harsh, the tone in my voice is clearly indicating surprise yet also acceptation of new knowledge, no need to insult the state that have just moved past' They'd say, defending their position. 

'Fair enough, it's just that your ideas were so Ill-informed and cliche, no, no it's ok, you're right, we shouldn't chastise reformed ignorance' Roger would accept. 

'I appreciate that, cause yeah, knowledge is learned when it's learned, wait that's a stupid statement, learned when it's learned, no shit, holy redundancy, ha ha' they'd chuckle. 

'Ha ha ha' Roger would laugh. 

'Hhaaaaa haaaaa haaaa' they'd chortle. 

'Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa haaaaa ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaa' Roger would howl. 

'Ha ha haaaaaa ha haaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha' they'd hysterically unleash. 

'Ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaasa ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaasaassass ha' Roger would roar. 

'Ha haaaa haaaa ha ha haaaaa, cough, oh god I'm going to puke, wow laughing hysterically while running is hard' They'd say, nearly choking.

'Yeah man' Roger would reply 'but you get used to it. How come you are out running anyway?'

'My stupid boss wants us to try some new methods' they'd state. 

'Oh what do you do?' Roger would ask.

'I'm a cop!' They'd say.

And that's why Roger is currently hiding in your closet. 

Starting trouble, BIG trouble

'You never hear about pheasants giving massages to quails anymore' I said, one warm Saturday afternoon, to a goose.

That was when the trouble started. Big trouble.

Big trouble. Involving a goose.

A BIG goose.

At least compared to a baby sparrow.

A baby sparrow being something I compare EVERYTHING to.

Fun fact - it turns out almost everything is big! (Exceptions include: snowflakes, mouse droppings, and memories of smiles). 

I didn't mean to start trouble, honestly I didn't. I was just making a truthful, authentic and interesting observation.

That's what I do.

I observe shit.

It’s my bag.

I even observed a bag once, it was blue!

But I never observe shit to start trouble.

'Hey, look, there's a man' would be an example of an observation that is not intended to be a trouble starter. And that’s an observation I have made at least three times. But now I hold back, because I have become aware that it CAN be a trouble starter.

Now I am of course NOT saying all men start trouble, and therefore seeing one means trouble. So you can just stop the accusations right there. Although now that I think about it, when I was in school every time a teacher said 'you're a trouble maker' to a kid, it WAS always a boy said teacher was talking to. One hundred percent of the time. So that's pretty damming evidence.

Then again I DID attend an all boys school. But I feel ultimately this is a commentary on the school administrators more than a difference between the sexes.

The point is, that I had no idea the goose would be upset, is what I'm saying. And it wasn't. Upset would be a VAST understatement. So okay, it turns out geese consider themselves the masseuses of the poultry world. Sorry, sorry - 'the feathered creatures of cruel human consumption' world, as they prefer to be known. I assume. I mean there are lots of birds, but we only eat some of them, but that's probably their fault.

But trouble had begun. Big trouble. Before I knew it the Goose was giving me the best damn massage of my life just to prove a point. This led to at least three other birds being inspired to make their own points, which ultimately lead to a magpie kicking an otter! It was BIG trouble. At least compared to a baby sparrow.

I think the lessons here are four:

1. I need to observe more things that don't cause trouble, ‘look there's a table!’ Would be an example. Oh fuck now a goose is breaking it over a ducks face, my god it's bill is so fucked up it almost looks like a beak, a dirty stinking beak, oh the humanity, um oh the humpoluitry. That's better.
2. Maybe I need to stop observing shit altogether, ‘oh wow, look there's nothing to see here’, ahhh.
3. Geese have a terrible reputation in the bird world, and I'll tell you why, none of the male geese want to work in propaganda, because then they'd be a 'propaganda gander' and geese don't want to bang ganders who have confusing business cards. And of course
4. Be more delicious Vultures damn it. It’s high time that the feathered creatures of cruel human consumption world got a new member!

Johnny Wrinkles

'They call me Johnny Wrinkles' he'd say upon meeting someone new.

'Why? Cause I'm badass' he'd reply when asked 'and cause I'm way too lazy to iron my clothes, plus I tend to overpack my clothes-dryer and I always forget to empty it right away, so my clothes are normally WAY wrinkled'.

'Oh that makes sense' people would admit 'and then your name is John?' they'd query, naturally assuming a yes.

'Well no' he'd reply, gruff yet embarrassingly.

'Sorry Johnny' they'd concede.

'Well no, it's ah, Stu(cough)art, um Stu'

'Um, oookay, so why, um, do they call you Johnny Wrinkles?' They'd inquire.

'Look, I TOLD you, I don't like effin' ironing, I really, really don't like it!' He'd grunt impatiently.

'BUT WHY "JOHNNY"?' They'd demand frustrated. 

'IT'S JUST A NICKNAME, A REALLY, REALLY COOL AND BADASS NICKNAME, THAT'S WAY BETTER THAN "OL'  SCRUFFY SCABBY STU" SO STOP ASKING QUESTIONS, IT DOESN'T MATTER, NO ONE KNOWS WHERE NICKNAMES  COME FROM, THEY JUST HAPPEN, STOP TRYING TO RUIN IT' he'd scream, voice crackling, tears welling in his now darting eyes.

'Ha ha ha, wow, you named yourself Johnny Wrinkles didn't you?' They'd say, as chuckles broke into genuine laughter while they walked away. 

Soon after that they'd often get emails or Facebook messages from Stu. 

Innocent at first.

'Listen, you haven't told anyone right? I'd really appreciate if you wouldn't' type things.

Then desperate.

'You never replied to my message, are you telling people? Please don't. I'm begging you. I'll do ANYTHING. I don't have a lot, but I could give you money, or, I don't know, I could do something for you? Anything, just ask' type messages. 

Then threatening.

'I've been reading your Twitter, you're a liar too you know, you don't look sick at all, so I don't think you are "dying" to see the new Star Wars, so if you expose me then I'll expose you too' type stuff. 

It'd be sad if it wasn't so creepy. Then again, there are up sides. I met 'Johnny Wrinkles' three years ago, and when he told me not to tell anyone, and offered 'I could do something for you' well I said I'd keep my mouth shut and said 'yes there is something you could do for me', and ahh, let's just say, I haven't ironed my own clothes ever since! 

Oh, ha ha, might have given a wrong impression there, I'm not getting him to iron my clothes. I just wear them wrinkled, cause who gives a shit. No I'm just getting him to not tell anyone why some people seem to think my name is 'Biscuit Bob' now THAT'S a badass nickname. 

Olympic Gold Medals For All

How to get an Olympic gold medal in ten, or maybe more or maybe less, fun steps: 

1. Run a hundred meters in under nine and a half seconds.

2. Or Stab the guy who did and take his.

3. It may be difficult to stab this particular person, as it turns out he may be hard to catch.

4. So you could instead just wrap an Olympic gold medalist in antelope and gazelle juice, and then set a cheetah on him. 

5. Then later merely enter a fight to the death with the cheetah for the prize of the medal.

6. It may help to travel back in time to an era of slave gladiator fighting pits, because then they'll probably give you a sword. 

7. Cheetahs have sharp teeth and are well trained brutal killers, so trust me, you WANT a sword.

8. Or if you can't find a time machine just BRING a sword. 

9. That may end up saving you being forced to give your medal to your owner. 

10. And you could also avoid being a slave all together.

11. These are things worth at least contemplating.

12. I'd like to see Doc and Marty take on the fighting pits, the Queen could be Michael J Fox in drag, and when the Doc gets lanced in the face he could yell 'Great Scott'. 

13. Of course it may end up being difficult to wrap the gold medalist in gazelle and antelope juice because:

A. Neither gazelles nor antelope fit in most domestic juicing machines.

B.  Plus they tend to be full more of blood, bone and sweet memories of Sahara sunsets than 'juice'.

C. Also when you try to catch one you'll be forced to deal with the cheetahs already chasing them.

D. And you do NOT want to get into a fight with one of them under any circumstances, they have sharp teeth and are well trained brutal killers. 

E. Plus if you kill an African big cat you may be forced to become a dentist.

F. It also may be difficult to wrap a hundred meter gold medalist in juice of any kind, because as it turns out he may be hard to catch. 

14. Oh, so you're now looking for another route to get a gold? 

15. If you haven't got a gold medal by now it's because you gave up when I called somethings 'hard'.

16. So maybe you don't DESERVE a gold medal!

17. You lazy bastard. 

18. Gold medals are for winners, not lazy, people stabbing, cheetah fighting assholes.

19. You make me sick. 

Jump - A Poem

Kevin jumped up as high as he could. 

He didn't get very high as he was not a trained athlete.

But he was satisfied that he'd done his best. 

Moments later he landed.

Due to the lack of height of the leap it was a soft and safe landing. 

He was happy with that this was as good as he was capable of. 

He now stood still. 

Looked around him. 

And thought..

'Nope, I still have NO idea why the DJ keeps asking us to do that'. 

Silence - A Poem

Craig Sandlewood hates silence.

Like REALLY hates it.

Hates it more that he hates the scoring system in gymnastics.

And you do NOT want to get him started on that abomination. 

He's tried many things over the years to avoid silence.

Whistling.

Mumbling.

Beat boxing.

Singing to himself.

Coughing.

Nervously laughing. 

Jiggling keys. 

Barking like a dog.

Pretending he was skitzofrenic.

Reciting the bylaws at his local squash club.

Screaming in a primal roar the words 'blue murder!!!'

Eating chalk with his mouth open. 

Pouring buckets of water on street cats.

Calling in false reports to the police of muggings in action to get sirens blazing. 

Reminding strangers that even pro athletes miss sometimes, so why the hell do they get paid so much? 

Claiming to be Hitler and proving it with an improvised speech. 

Verbally reviewing how strangers walked.

Scratching sidewalks with his conveniently sharpened toenails.

Picking fights with gutter vermin. 

Making monkey sounds.

Using strangers heads as bongos.

Suddenly remembering outloud 'oh fuck, I think I left the oven turned off, thank god'. 

He even stooped low enough to try humming. 

He's yet to find something that consistently works for him. 

But he keeps trying.

Day after day he's trying.

Trying harder than a gymnastics competitor.

And they try HARD!!

Don't you EVER fucking accuse them of not trying.

Not that the god damn scorers fucking acknowledge that.

Those cunts.

Fortunately Craig Sandlewood has time to keep trying things to avoid the silence.

For Craig Sandlewood has no friends.

Apparently Something about him annoys people. 

Wet - A Poem

This is a fun one today, because I wrote it sleepwalking last night. My dream, like most other people's dreams, was mostly uninteresting, but so much so that within the dream so little was happening I stopped and started writing on my phone. I used to sleep walk write semi-regularly, tweets, notes on my phone, or in pads, mostly unintelligible rambles, but luckily today I was able to combine remember and interpret what I wrote. As you'll see it was most worth it...

Wet - A Poem 

You really never hear about people putting accordions in aquariums much anymore.

I guess that's why most of the accordion stars we all know and revere are not fish. 

See? How awesome was that? 

And now here is how it looked when I discovered it this morning...

Aquariums lllacordian you don't here. Ankh that much anymorrd 

Sometimes you just have to admit you truly are a genius. This may not be one of those times, but it's a good point anyway. 

Accurately- a poem

'When you're right you're right, and you my friend are right, VERY right' Sammy said to Steph.

'I'm righter than my right hand shaking the right hand of someone who was right about which side of the road we drive on here in America which is the right side, right on 3:15pm which is right when all the hands on the watch are pointing right!' she replied. 

Steph had just told Sammy her theory that if you could train frogs to play woodwind instruments you could probably make a lot of money. 

And yep she was definitely right. 

Their next three whole dates were focused on discussions on how they personally would spend this newly discovered hypothetical cash. 

Steph settled on an RV that could fly as fast as a jet, with a bed made out of the dreams of kittens, a jacuzzi full of warm maple syrup, a TV that automatically played Classic movies that were set in the very locations she ever found herself, only now staring her in all the lead roles, and a shower that didn't just wash off dirt but also body fat, cellulite and wrinkles. 

Sammy wanted air conditioning. 

It would soon become clear that Steph really was the thinker of the pair. 

Wryly - A poem

Roger Firesmith was brilliant at portraying his thoughts and emotions with a mere smirk. 

The whole town always knew exactly what was going on in his head whenever they saw him. 

'I know what you're thinking' they'd say. 

'You're smugly self-satisfied right?' They'd guess.

No they'd KNOW. 

To be fair this was how he felt all the time.

Due to his unparalleled smirking skills. 

Here is some really seriously good life advice

If you would like to sell a paper hat for a million dollars simply:

1. have it officially declared international paper hat day.

2. Sleep with an eccentric paper hat loving billionaire.

3. Make sure to compliment his scrotum. 

4. Make a really seriously good paper hat.

5. Try and sell it to the eccentric paper hat loving billionaire. 

6. Be successful in those efforts. 

7. Ignore parts five and six unless you can be very clear about your price tag.

8. Make your price tag 'one million dollars'. 

Please Note:

- Parts 1, 2 and 3 are obviously optional. Eccentric paper hat loving billionaires are rarely swayed by sex, nor international days of stuff. They just love paper hats.

- Parts 5 and 7 are also optional, and yet part 8 could not exist without them, so that's fun. 

- Declaring it international paper hat day may in fact both increase your competition for the sale, and at the same time make it harder to source the necessary paper for your paper hat. 

- If your hat is really truly really seriously good you may not even need the billionaire, good stuff is valuable on its own merits, regardless of levels of eccentricity occupied by the potential purchaser. 

- If he has a particularly ugly scrotum then your compliment may sounds like sarcasm or even pandering.

- If he has a particularly ugly scrotum it may be because someone had once stapled it to a wooden bench, after he had previously laid out the challenge - 'bet you can't use this stapler for something other than connecting to pieces of paper or something similar'. 

- The person he challenged won that bet. 

- Having sex with him may make him question his current levels of fertility so it's a good idea to remind him that you can disable your fertility faster with a microwave than a brainwave, unless your brainwave was to 'just use a hammer'. 

- While we all know that every time a leg falls off an arm grows, it would be nice to remind him that regardless you do NOT grow a third testicle to scratch with that arm. 

- Wait did I say life advice, I mostly meant testicle advice.

- This whole scheme works best if by 'you' you mean 'a duck', by 'paper hat' you mean 'a huge diamond' and by 'a million dollars' you mean 'three daffodil petals'. 

Everyone and Everything - a poem

The sun was fed up, pissed off, angry as shit, and miffed.

That last emotion being the least of its worries. 

You see it had finally realized that not one human ever looked it in the eye.

'They look right at the MOON, that's only even visible because of ME' it ranted.

And it wasn't going take it any more.

As it blew itself up EVERYONE turned to look at it.

It was pretty much the worst case scenario for everyone and everything involved. 

Except for little Johnny Slinter who'd just that second stood up to his bully for the first time, screaming 'you're such a dick I bet God's planning on blowing up the whole solar system to get you!'

His last few seconds were rather satisfying.

You know, other than the fire. 

Fear - A poem

Lazarus was feeling mighty. 

Strong. 

Dominant. 

Powerful. 

He was the most fearsome warrior on earth. 

But then came the first battle of the summer. 

And his famous undoing at the hands of a historically uncomfortably epic inner thigh heat chaff rash.

Legend claims that even those he'd just decapitated winced when that evening he was seen pealing off his boxer briefs. 

Time after time

And now ten signs that your latest escapades back in time in your time machine have failed to make the changes to the present that you had so hoped. 

1. Your wife Meredith is in a mood. 

2.  A really bad mood.

3. Her worst mood that you've ever encountered. 

4. And you can't seem to stop it.

5. And you've tried stuff.

6. Lots of stuff.

7. I mean you've tried offering her tea, you've tried hugging her, you've tried reminding her about the fun weekend you recently had together in Wilmington, you've tried ignoring her and watching TV, you've tried yelling at her to 'get over it', you've tried talking on the phone to your buddy and loudly exclaiming 'my wife's in a bitch of a mood, so why don't we head to Mexico for a few days', you've tried getting her a drink from the fridge without even asking if she wanted one, and then when it turned out that she didn't want one you tried just drinking it yourself so that she wouldn't be able to add your 'wasteful fucking ways' to her list of complaints, you've tried putting the cat on her lap and reminding her how cute she is, the cat that is, you've tried hiding in the backyard treehouse, you've tried offering to take the kids to their grandparents for the weekend, you've tried wrapping her in bacon and reminding her 'everything is better wrapped in bacon' and you've even tried telling HER she's cute, which she is most certainly not, yes you have TRIED to end her mood. 

8. Before you went back in time you didn't have a wife Meredith, in fact you were an eighty five year old gay man. 

9. And your cat was a monkey.

10. You HAD been trying to change your green hat blue.

That was ten signs that your latest escapades back in time in your time machine have failed to make the changed to the present that you WANTED to make. 

Next time just buy a blue hat you fools. 

Oh sad, sad world? - A poem

Floods, earthquakes, the ongoing war between the mongoose and snakes of the world and overpriced coffee 

But life isn't all bad 

For example 

I saw a rainbow the other day 

I didn't want to

It wasn't a choice 

I wasn't like seeking it out 

Running around in Hawaii with my shirt off yelling 

'Show yourself you bastard!!'

I don't do that

Pants off either

I only scream at the sky completely clothed!!!

Cause I'm a decent human 

Not like all you animals 

No I just ran into this rainbow randomly

But it turned out to be the best rainbow I'd ever seen 

Enormous 

Seemed to cover the whole sky

Just one color too 

Blue