Monday, May 18, 2015

A solution to the censorship issue:

I think life is like that old saying:

'You're cursed by aliens if you do - You're possessed by the devil if you don’t - Either way you end up with a cool story to tell'.

Like most sayings based on undeniable truth, there is a lot of truth in this saying, wisdom even. But this saying makes it seem like those are the only two options, when what you really should be attempting is to make the aliens think you didn't, when you kind of did, and make the devil think you did when you kid of didn't, and if you get the timing just right you can end up in the possession of an alien possessed by the devil, and those are worth some serious coin on the black market (there are too many taxes on the regular market).

The point is that here at David Tieck and his Fleeting Forever we normally stay away from social and political issues. This is for a very simple reason - debate is healthy, possibly even necessarily, to help maintain a vibrant society capable of sustaining a diverse spectrum of differing yet valid opinions on a multitude of issues with constantly morphing factors that persistently shift the dynamics of problematic reasoning - and typically when I throw in my two cents that all goes away as people say stuff like 'oh of course, Dave's one hundred percent right, debate settled, all hail our messiah'.

Ok, thanks guys, obviously I'm proud of being a messiah, but just because I'm one hundred percent right there's no need to end the debates, watching people get infuriated by semantics is entertaining. Plus people saying really, really dumb stuff? Hilarious.

Having said that I think there is one issue we need solved right now. I'm ready for my two cents. I'm ready to end this right now, I am of course talking about how it's really, really a teeny bit annoying that various spellchecks think when you type 'fucking' that you actually meant to write 'ducking'.  NO I DIDN'T!

I've already talked before about the damage this type of thing is doing to the kids, and because I'm not someone who complains about something without offering a solution, I solved it with this video right here:







But this only flawlessly solved one aspect of the problem. The insignificantly annoying censorship remains (and insignificant is a long important sounding word). Well, I am not one to complain about something without offering a solution, and I say we need to fight this miniscule annoyance with absolute brutal carnage. 

I think as a world, just to fight spellcheck assuming we meant 'ducking', we should agree that 'ducking' now means 'cancer raping pedophile victims'.

Boom.

Oh you don't want me saying ‘fucking’ spellcheck? What would you prefer 'cancer raping pedophile victims'? You sick bastards.

Take that minor censorship; you can stick your judgment up my ducking ass!

Today's blog proudly brought to you by ‘Devil Possessed Aliens’ - buy one today from Messiah Online.

The Lonely Doormat

The lonely doormat was lonely. 

'Hi, I'm a doormat and I'm lonely' it would often say.  

It didn't get used as often, or as nicely, as it used to, was the reason it was lonely. 

'The man of the house comes and goes via the garage entrance mostly these days, the lady of the house wears something called "heels" that friggin STAB me, and the teenage girl of the house seems prefer leaving the house in the middle of the night out of her bedroom window only to return home an hour or so later with a mysterious gooey substance running down her leg' the lonely doormat would say, as to why it was lonely. 

'Also my name is "the lonely doormat" it's a bit of a prick of a name to be born with, hard to escape, just like "Sally the Sociopathic Scorpion Sending Simpleton" of course she would end up being a little simple. You got to be more careful when you friggin name stuff people' it would say as to why it was lonely.

Sometimes the lonely doormat would cry. 

Sometimes it'd cry at night. 

'Wwwaaaahhhh look there's the moon waaaaggghh' it'd cry.

Sometimes it'd cry in the day. 

'Wwwaaaahhhh look there's the sun waaaagghh' it'd cry.

Sometimes it would cry at in-between day and night times.

'Wwwaaaahhh look there is low light lots of color in the sky plus I can see the moon, only its a pale white and not lit up waaaaaggghh' it'd cry. 

All hope seemed lost for the lonely doormats hope of one day hoping not to be lonely. 

'Waaaaggghh I can't find my hope, maybe I left it in my other pants waaaagghh' it'd cry. 

But then then it met a new friend - the cheeky bathmat that had been dumped on the porch by the lady of the house after the man of the house kept getting pee on it, seriously is it that hard to aim? Grow up! (You're welcome ladies). 

'Hi I'm the cheeky bathmat, I lived in the bathroom till I got covered in pee, I guess I'm just the type of thing that everything's ATTRACTED to' it would say trying to show off how cheeky it was. 

They had a whirlwind romance, although they prefer to call it the more technical 'tornado romance' - seeing as it was literally a tornado  that blew them together - lifted em up and slapped them together like a square of cheese slapping on a wet kitchen floor.

Just a big moist slap. 

SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAPPP. 

It's lucky they liked each other - because once they we're blown together they basically had each other's fronts utterly covering, consuming, and engulfing one another. 

Sure, if the attraction had not been reciprocated someone could have tried to peel them apart, but let's face it both these mats had all sorts of gross stuff on them, pee, particles of dog-shit, a saturated flyer from dominoes pizza that had also gotten caught in the wind, half a slug. 

'Is that half a slug crawling around between us, or am I just happy to see you' the cheeky bathmat said to the lonely doormat, being all cheeky 'oh it's actually half a slug, sorry, that's right, we're mats, we don't have genitalia' It added, being slightly less cheeky. 

But then one day the man of the house found a teenage boy climbing out of his daughters window and upon first sight the man just had an awful thought 'that boy looks like when he arrived here he probably was carrying a mysterious gooey substance in his body somewhere, but now he looks exactly that amount of mysterious gooey substance lighter!' 

The lonely doormat now lives in a shallow grave in the forrest wrapped around the leaky brain segment of the corpse of a teenage boy who had been shot in the face by the man of the house. 

His beloved, the cheeky bathmat, lies adjacent to him, balled up around the teenage boys nose, which had been shot clean off his face and ended up comically stuck to the teenage girl of the houses window, glued on with both blood and some mysterious gooey substance. 

And the lonely doormat and the cheeky bathmat mat lived happily ever after.

Well until sniffer dogs found them and they were separated into air tight 'evidence bags' but that was days away, which is a long time in the life of a mat, so meh. Plus why do they deserve lasting love more than you or I, right? Fuck em. 

The end