Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Fly me to the moon you lunatic – A poem

Sadly they forgot where the moon was.
Sure it was visible
But that didn’t explain truly “where” it was
And they were Moonologists!
Self confessed moon experts
If they didn’t know were the moon was then who did?
NASA. Obviously.
And of course the estimated two million plus amateur astrologists out there.
But “screw them”. They said.
If THEY didn’t know – then NO one should know.
So they blew the moon up.
Out of spite.
It was only after the explosion.
That one of them piped up and asked “um, if we didn’t know where the moon was, how did we manage to blow it up”?
“Oh fuck” came the reply “I guess we did know where it was”.
Then a tidal wave killed them. 

Saturday, October 13, 2018

Hornets - A poem

Jonathon got attacked by a giant swarm of Hornets 
He killed three 
And got stung by eight hundred and seventy two 
The people of the town wanted to feel bad for him 
But everyone was just so happy that Sarah, who’d owned and managed the local Hornet Ointment Emporium for the past twenty three years,
Finally had a customer  

Friday, October 12, 2018

Say it with me... Berg. Berg. Berg. See wasn't that fun?

I’ve always been intrigued by animals that get around on floating icebergs. “Why an iceberg?” I’ve been known to wonder to myself from time to time. Often even times when thinking about animals on icebergs!

Well this week I decided to wonder know more, and instead go out and meet one for myself. 

What I found turned out to be intriguing indeed, but also sad, fascinating, scary, and even intriguing. 

You see, the first animal I managed to spot drifting into the harbour atop of an iceberg somehow turned out to be an animal which had stowed away on an the wrong iceberg which had led it to the WRONG continent!

Furthermore, as the first person to intercept it on its approach to land, I was now the person who’d lucked (or unlucked) into having the responsibility to tell it it’s mistake.

You can imagine my abject terror. But there was also fear. Reservation. Malaise. And even also mild terror. Which on top abject terror, made it somewhere between extreme terror and obscene terror, but I was too scared to deal with extreme nor obscene terror, so I isolated my two branches of terror onto two branches, carefully making sure that even though I obviously knew the trunk of these terrors was the same, the branches themselves were individuals, and as individuals they had the right to compartmentalize themselves anyway they wished. In this case separately. So I could calm the fuck down.

Besides, this wasn’t all about me, it was only half about me, the other half being my responsibility to this animal. Plus fractions terrify me. So how could I possibly be expected to isolate the sums of all the terror and properly label it now? Seriously.  

I decided that instead of sucking into myself, I should blow out of myself, towards the poor lost animal. And it wasn’t hard, for I did have lots of questions. Questions such as:

- Where did you THINK you were going? 
- How does one power a berg anyway, ice or other sort of berg? Wind? Petroleum? Nuclear? 
- And ARE there bergs in non-ice categories?
- Because if there are some god damn nuclear-powered margarine-bergs out there we deserve to fucking know! 
- And if there is not, then just call them all bergs, forget the f’n ice.
- Seriously.
- Just go with berg!
- Berg. Berg. Berg. 
- What’s so hard about that?
- It’s even fun to say.
- Beeeerrrrgggg!
- Go on try it.
- You’ll see it’s fun I swear.
- Go on then.
- Say it with me.
- “Berg. Berg. Berg”.
- You didn’t go.
- Do you not WANT to say it?
- Is that it?
- Or is it something else? 
- Cause frankly you haven’t answered ANY of my questions! What’s up with that French Fry?
- I’ve decided to nickname you French Fry by the way.
- And I know it doesn’t make sense! Yeah. Exactly.
- So what is it?
- Too good to talk to a human? 
- Oh fuck you! 
- You think you’re better than me?
- Because YOU’RE an Elephant!
- Yeah.
- How’s that better than me?
 - Plus how did you even get on an iceberg? 
- And what made you think it was going to take you to California?
- And who told you California was a continent? Cause whoever it was, was an idiot. And I don’t want you hanging around with idiots.
- Cause idiots are morons.
- And if you say ‘nah, I was just listening to the Mommas and the Poppas and got whimsical for the West Coast, I’m gonna tell you this - YOU’RE LISTENING TO THE MOMMAS AND THE POPPAS ALL WRONG MAN! It’s a fantasy. You’re not supposed to try and LIVE it! 
- Also were there penguins on this berg when you got on? Cause if you’ve started eating birds I’m going to be very cross with you.
- We like you Elephant.
- Us humans.
- I know I suggested just before that I think I am better than you because I am a human and you’re an elephant.
- But that was just anger talking.
- Truth is we like you.
- Us humans.
- We like you a lot.
- But that’s partly because you DON'T eat birds. And because you DON’T take the Mommas and the Pappas literally. NO ONE likes an animal that eats birds and misunderstands the meanings behind an entire bands’ body of work. They’re so damn majestic! (birds and bands).
- So if that’s what you’re telling me, then why don’t you turn this berg right around?

But that’s when it hit me. I was in no position to judge. I myself had arrived in Australia for the first time stowed away on a floating mattress that I thought was headed for Oklahoma. And I was a Muskrat when this took place. And I’d been inspired by the body of work of The Kinks, which I had misunderstood to be summed up as telling the world “why buy a waterbed, when you can just be on a bed in water?” And having interviewed the Kinks subsequently they told me “You’re missing the point man, our body of work was supposed to be understood to be summed up as “don’t float on a mattress to a landlocked American state where cowboys ride, because if you do, one those cowboys may have a bull that will puncture your mattress, and then how are you going to get home? A flying car? Yeah right!” (the lesson is always meet your heroes, they have so much wisdom to share).

So I hung my head in shame. And I told the elephant the bad news. Rubbing his trunk in commiseration (and sneakily checking for penguin breath. There was none. So feel free to keep liking Elephants). And I shoved him back towards California. With a “farewell” and “safe travels”.

And you know what?

The elephant did speak back to me finally.

Just with his eyes.

But they clearly said…

“Berg. Berg. Berg. Yeah that is fun. Thanks so much for that. And if on my travels I see any Muskrats floating out at sea on a mattress, I’ll tell them, what the Kinks told you, we’re all in this together you see. Animals. Humans. Birds. Bands. And even Idiots”.

The next time I saw that elephant, he’d taken human form and was about to interview the ghost of Momma Cass from the Mommas and the Poppas (I think she was one of the Mommas) so I knew he’s going to be ok.

And my terror drifted away.

Like a French Fry on a nuclear-powered margarine-berg. And that’s something we can all enjoy.  

Monday, October 8, 2018

These are wise words, potentially

'You can't climb a valley'

Yes wise words, wise indeed, which is why I said them! 

Cause I like saying wise things. 

And this thing is very wise. 

Wise I’m telling ya. 

So wise they’re even wiser than some other things! 

Say like eating a block of wood, to name just one example of something not as wise! 

Although there are probably even more potential examples of wise words out there just waiting to be discovered. Potentially as many as a dozen. 

But You know what? 

‘Potential can suck a poo faced turd!’ 

Which is yet another example of wise words. 

Words that have been said.

By me. 

And words which are wise. 

Which is why I said them. 

Because check this out, as a child I had ‘potential’ to grow up to be a monkey wrangler. 

And look what's become of me. 

When was the last time I even wrangled a single monkey, let alone wrangled one professionally? 

This past Wednesday, that's when. And that’s hump day, which is camels not monkeys! 

And the pros do it every hour on the hour every hour, in an hourly fashion which is honorable hourly. So I am no pro, no indeed, so ‘potential’ can suck my ass, hourly! 

You know what ‘potential’, just to screw with you I’m going to name ALL the ‘potentially a dozen’ wise words, just to fuck you up! 

Wise words ‘potentially’ to be discovered include all of the below: 

  1. Don’t eat a block of wood.
  2. If you’re planning on making a movie based on the Novel 'Scum Sundaes' don’t forget to make the lead lactose intolerant, I know we don’t want to be poking ‘fun’ at the ‘no laccy for me please’ crowd, but if you don’t include that story line then you’ll literally be flushing the drama down the toilet like a lactose free turd. 
  3. Taking photos of memories of photos is stupid. 

Ok, shit, I think that's it. That’s all the ‘potential’ new wise words that had yet to be discovered. 

Yep, seriously ‘potential’ sucks. 

Potential may actually be the worst thing ever conjured by man. Oh no, wait..

  1. Potential may actually be the worst thing ever conjured by man. 

Four, that’s it. 

FAR less than a dozen. 

‘Potential really sucks’. 

And those are wise words. 

Wise indeed.

Which is why I said them!

Saturday, October 6, 2018

On being good at your job...

And now a quick note on being good at your job...

Roger was terrible at his job
Really bad at
Genuinely shit house at it
Just fucking horrible
Shitter than a gnat shit on a mosquito shit near a human poo.
People didn’t seem to care though
Seeing as he was an evil dictators food taster
Seven dictators had died on his watch!
And Six of those were both disliked AND loathed.
And three of them died eating poisoned loaves (two bread loafs and one loaf of pickled cyanide. ((Although frankly the name should have given away the threat enough on that one that some poor food taster's incompetence should have been irrelevant - cause I mean, duh, anything pickled is gross)) ((except maybe pickled old shoe, which is surprisingly vastly tastier that un-pickled old shoe. Although also harder to pair with wine)))
This loaves and loathed combination was of course a coincidence the pun headline writers at the local paper adored
‘Loathed dictator loaved to death!’
Was a popular headline
As was ‘love it or loave it, our leader is dead!’
Although that last one did get a guy called ‘Steve’ fired. But some say it was more for font choice, than his inability to use loaved AND loathed in the headline.
So people didn’t really care how bad at his job Roger was.
And man, he was fucking terrible
Just a fucking disgrace
Shitter than a dog shit on a bird shit near a poo museum.
Then again Roger was also a nice guy
Which always helps
Oh and when he tasted food it somehow regularly resulted in gold being spat out windows
Partly because for some reason dictator chefs often think Gold McNuggets will be what their dictator wants
And yet they NEVER provide a satisfactory variety or volume of dipping sauces
And Roger refused to even TRY an un-dipped McNugget
So he’d just slide them over to his boss, saying ‘yeah great’
And then the dictator would spit the McNugget out the window, with a scream ‘no BBQ, no Sweet and Sour, not even any fucking Honey Mustard, what am I, some sort of fucking peasant!’
So gold McNuggets would litter the outside of the palace window
And if you were willing to wipe the spit off (which 32% of interviewed peasants said they were) you’d get to eat a delicious piece of gold yourself!
So Roger wasn’t hated
Oh and his friend Mike was a popular morning radio host
And people love friends of celebrities!
Even IF said morning radio hosts most famous bit is prank calling the newly widowed
Although normally only widows of dead dictators
It’s probably why Roger and Mike were such close friends
So yeah
If you’re shit at YOUR job
Just garbage
Like even if your SUPER shit
Shitter than a monkey shit, on an elephant shit, near a shit faced shit head shitting his pants
Then perhaps you may not be loathed too!
Which means if you ever choke to death on loaves
Your death headlines will be pun free!

Friday, October 5, 2018

Please read this BEFORE you next go to a beach or park (or urban space seagulls think are parks or beaches)

Here’s some advice from me.. 

You should NEVER scream at a seagull, ever! Unless you WANT the seagull to BITE OUT YOUR TONGUE! 

Now this is of course assuming your tongue is made of French fries. And also assuming your tongue doesn’t have a retraction element, you know like a way of sticking your tongue back in. Like you can stick you tongue out, so of course you should be able to stick it in. 

But if YOU can’t, and you have a French Fry tongue, are you f’n crazy?

Why are you screaming at seagulls? That’s mad man. 

I mean you should know a few things straight up: 

- Seagulls don’t understand the variety of human emotions, particularly when it comes to volume based expressions of emotion, I mean there are plenty of loud HAPPY people at the beach and parks (and urban spaces seagulls think are parks and beaches), where seagulls hang out, so you’re probably not even succeeding in expressing what ever it is that you’re angry about regardless of your personal situation. Which brings me to...
- You’ve got a French Fry as a tongue! So you’re probably mumbling as well. So god knows if this particularly gull has picked up any language skills from years of monitoring picnickers and beach combers alike in hopes of nabbing a cracker or even a tuna soaked bread stick, but even if they have, you’re probably NOT expressing yourself eloquently enough for them to understand, and trust me I spent many a year as a mumbler, and FACT in that time not a SINGLE seagull, landgull, or earthwindandfiregull EVER said ‘ah yeah, I understand’. Not a single one. That’s how bad mumbling is. And also...
- They’ll eat your tongue! I get it you’ve got a message to share. And you are you, you are. And you don’t want to be held back by your particular scenario. We’ve all been there. I have a leg of lamb for a right forearm for example (don’t get me started on the grief I get for having a leg for an arm, it’s a dire life, let me tell you, I mean for one thing I can’t use the phrase ‘I’d give an arm and a leg’ for anything without imagining only giving up only one limb, (which is literally a leg AND an arm) without facing a lot of awkward payment situations, and some very disappointed and unsatisfied sales folk I’ll tell you. But that’s who I am. And I also can never give the finger to mountain lions. For a number of reasons. Climbing said mountain is hard on my leg of lamb arm. Mountain lions don’t understand modern western profanity based common sign language. And, and, and they’d BITE it. A leg of lamb arm is very attractive to mountain lions. Let me tell ya) but you have a French Fry tongue. That’s not going to change. Tongue transplant technology is still weak. Sure you can get a giraffe tongue put in (assuming you can talk a giraffe into donating one) but then you end up really ‘tonguey’ and that’s off putting to some people. So just deal with it. 

And here are some things you should know second up. Wait I said ‘straight’ above right? Not ‘first’? So I guess I should say here are some things you should know bendy up:

- You can ignore most of the above if you’re one of the lucky few who happen to NOT have a French Fry tongue. 
- You can also ignore this if you’re one of the absolute rare breed of person who never yells at gulls.
- Also overall these are some all some thoughts from me which might even be to absurd for ME! And I have a god damn leg of lamb as an arm. And also I’m ME! 
- Still I want to start posting this nonsense more, if you got this far thanks! 
- Also what food products DO you have in place of body parts? Let me know, and I’ll be sure to have advice more specifically focused on your personal situation in two shakes of a lambs tail. 
- Which incidentally is a phrase that always makes my arm ache, I have no idea why.
- The World sure is weird sometimes.
- Glad we all have this blog to escape back into normality from time to time.