How to make a lot of money really quickly and really easily

I have a very strong sense of intuition, some call it a psychic ability, they don't say that to my face, but I know they say it because I can sense it.

Normally I only use this for selfish personal gain, by say going down to the dog track looking up at the board and accurately predicting that the chance of winning is very low so not betting, I often end up with thousands of dollars more than my friends, so that's powerful.

In fact it was during one of my great trips to the track with friends when my intuition sent me another beautifully succinct psychic vision, saying very clearly this - 'there are probably people in the world that would like to get a lot of money, really quickly in a really easy way'.

It took me aback at first when it came to me 'but people mostly get their money really slowly and really difficultly' I thought 'could this really be the opposite of what they desire?'

It sounded stupid, people living these opposite lives, but then I remembered another of my psychic predictions, as I child there was a large rock that someone had dumped on our school playground, one day I was looking at it and a voice came to me - 'getting hit in the head with that would probably hurt'. Later that same school year I was accurately predicting that a kid named Kenny was a 'stinky stinky mcstink head' and he picked up the rock and smacked me in the head with it. Yep, you guessed it, it DID hurt! I had been right.

'If that vision was true then so must this one be' I thought, 'and if this is only something those of us with the gift can figure out, then it's up to someone like me to figure out how it can be done’. I'd reached a beautiful place in my life, I'd discovered that my wonderful talents didn't only need to be used selfishly, they could also be used to help the forgotten downtrodden demographic, a group known as 'other people'.

Fortunately I'm not just psychic but also really, really, really smart, so coming up with a super easy way to get a lot of money really, really, really easily and really, really, really quick was really, really, really easy for me.

Step One: Develop severe appendicitis. Some people can do this without even trying, but for those of us who have never had one of our own organs commit suicide, you may need just the tiniest bit of effort. One simple way to do it is to rig a microwave to work even when the door is open. Now take a length of aluminum foil, duct tape one end to the area near your appendix, and then scrunch the other end up around a handful of forks (if you have giant hands be careful, if you're more dainty in the hands department be generous) and stick them in the microwave on high for at least ten minutes. You can also go for the pancreas, but I prefer the appendix for reasons that will become clear later in the process.

Step 2. Be rushed to the hospital for emergency appendix removal surgery.

Step 3. Track down a black market surgeon. They're easier to find than you'd think. In fact according to movies almost all immigrants from non-English speaking countries doing low paid menial jobs were surgeons in their homelands, but the pizza was crap so they came here. If you don't like hanging out with foreigners shame on you, but I can alternatively recommend a guy down at the local dog track, l once heard him yell at a dog after a race, screaming 'I'm gonna slice you AND your owner into a million pieces' which is a LOT of pieces, so he must have the deftest of touches with a scalpel, and he works on humans and animals so he must be very skilled.

Step 4. In some ways this is the most important step. Get your black market surgeon to open up your surgery wound, slip in some scissors, and stitch that bad boy back up.

Step 5 (optional). Sneak into the hospital and double check that the scissor brand the hospital uses matches the one now inside your stomach. This requires being sneaky which is why it's optional, I'm sure some of you don't want to be sneaky. If you don't you can also easily find this information on the Internet. This step is also a good time to say to your black market surgeon 'we didn't talk about this, but you didn't put kitchen scissors in there did you?' If he did, and he probably did, get him to surgically switch them out with surgical scissors.

Step 6. Take a couple of days off your daily ab sculpting sessions.

Step 7. At your follow up session with your doctor tell him or her that your 'stomach hurts really bad, especially here' and point towards the spot you've recently had surgery on 2-5 times (in my experience most black market surgeons will get the right scissors in there within at least the first four or five surgeries) it may help to act like you’re in a lot of pain, if you're a bad actor you can also skip step 6, in which case you'll definitely be in actual pain.

Step 8. Actually this is the most important step. After they have X-rayed your wound and discovered the surgical scissors in there, if they ask you 'have these always been there?' - answer 'NO'.

Step 9. File suit and be given lots and lots of money, really, really, really quickly and really, really, really easily.

Now I know what you are all thinking? Yes, you're right, there is one tiny little negative, or 'unpleasant' element to this process. And yes you are correct, this will be paid out by the hospital insurance rather than the hospital, and many movies have created a false representation of insurance suggesting that ripping it off is a victimless crime, and you know that in actual fact insurance fraud adds to the premiums of all insurance purchases, sometimes rendering it out of reach for lower income households which in times of accident or theft can exasperate the cycle of poverty and debt.

However, that's 'logic' you're speaking with there. And I've personally long had a hunch that logic is controlled by your appendix (which is why I recommend not going with the pancreas option) and remember I'm psychic so my hunches are normally correct.

But it the one in a million chance I am not, you won't be a low-income household anymore so what do you care?

Alright, I'm sensing that even though every one of you is utterly blown away by this flawless plan with only one single potential down side, the odd one of you may feel that you're SO logical that you're worried a little logic will remain still in the system even after the appendix have been removed, and you don't want to have to spend time in a sauna to sweat it out.

Fair enough. So for you I offer this alternative, and also brilliant way to get really, really, really rich, with no down sides at all.

Open a Chinese Restaurant.

Use exclusively rancid meat.

Have every fortune cookie say 'you will get diarrhea'.

Boom, you have a Chinese restaurant that can boast 100% accurate fortune cookies 100% of the time, and therefore you've got yourself a money-printing factory!!! EVERYONE is going to want to experience a fortune cookie that’s definitely correct. Why do you think they call them 'fortune' cookies?

Enjoy being rich everyone. And no need to say thanks. As a psychic

I am already well aware of all the gifts you all have coming my way. So let me take this time for me to thank you.

Donkey Donkey Donkey

'Donkey, Donkey...... Donkey oh god damn it!!!' Said Mitch.
He'd just been lost a bet.

'I bet you can't say Donkey twice without at least thinking about saying it a third time, probably even saying it!'
Don had made his living off this bet for six years now.

'It came to me by accident one day' he explained to me, when I was given a rare chance to interview this great man 'you see I saw a donkey, so I went "donkey" and then right away I saw a second donkey so I went "donkey" and even though I didn't see a third donkey, and never even went close to seeing a third, I realized I was still thinking the word "donkey" and even had the desire to say it, it was a revelation'.

‘Astonishing’ I replied, and thankfully Don continued.

‘It took another six years to figure out how to monetize this weird anomaly, I was chatting to a friend one day, once again frustrated, and angry, “I know I can make money from this, I CAN, I just can't unlock the secret” I said, slamming my fists down on the table in the coffee shop.
“No you can't, so please, please, please stop fucking going on about it” my friend replied.
“So you're telling me that you think you can say Donkey out-loud two times back to back and not even think about saying it a third time” I disputed.
“Of course I could” he replied.
“Wanna bet,” I said, without even thinking about it. I don't know where it came from, I'm not normally so confrontational, so aggressive, so daring and I certainly was not a gabling man, but then I guess (chuckling to himself) it turned out I still wasn't, let's just say that I didn't pay for my ham, cheese and tomato hold the tomato omelet that day, in fact I've never paid for one again’.

'So why reveal the truth, why expose yourself?' I asked 'Surely once the secrets out the ride will be over, or at least the ride will be over run with new riders?'

'Oh exactly!' He stated with not a hint of irony or sarcasm in his voice.

'Exactly? EXACTLY?  You’re saying exactly? You've got the golden goose man!' I replied shocked.

'Look Dave, I get why you're so surprised. When I made this discovery, believe me, I knew I was set, I was thinking, "This is it! This is what I'll be doing for the rest of my life!" I didn't doubt it. I KNEW it. But now six years in, it might sound weird, but as good as this is, I'm ready for another challenge. I need to go Avante-Guad, challenge the status quo, and be truly creative again. Throw off this seemingly impenetrable armor and be vulnerable again. Like when Clooney left ER. It might be a failure. But I still have to try. And I couldn't without first giving away "Donkey, Donkey, Donkey" so it's out there now, for the whole world to use!'

'You're a generous man Don'

'I'm really not, just a dreamer, just like everyone else.'

'Well you're definitely an inspiration.'

'Well I don't know about that, but thank you'.

'So then there's only one question left to ask, what IS next, where do you start?'

'Great question Dave. But to be honest I'm really not sure. I know I need to delve deep into my soul, find out what I fear the most, then take on THAT as hard as I can. It scares me to death, so that's how I know it could be right,

So, ok I'll let you in on a secret, I'm contemplating trying out 'Mule Mule Mule', I know I know I know, it couldn't possible work right? Exactly. Plus, and this is where your head will explode, instead of betting for a ham, cheese and tomato hold the tomato omelet I'm going for Everest and trying for a Frittata!!! I may never be seen again, but to be brutally honest eating nothing but omelets was starting to bore me.'

Well there you have it folks. Don is out there exploring, dreaming, taking on life with open arms, aren’t you all inspired? What are you going to do next?

Eyes widening

'I think whoever did this was probably a very bad man' said the cop, overlooking the scene of a grizzly murder.

'Oh, wait, is that why we call criminals "the bad" guys? Ha ha, I just got that, I always thought it was like a two sporting teams, we're both the bad guys to each other' he added chuckling.

Suddenly his eyes got wide. 

It was to be the last day he ever saw tazing torsos, cracking skulls, and mopping up blood as mere fun and games. Sadly he was never able to see the scene of a horrific murder born in terrifying blood lust as a source of humor again. 

Naked Levitation

Karman

A spiritualist from San Francisco, wanted to discover an experience she could partake in that was completely devoid of inanimate objects.

She searched the world.

Seeking true purity.

She swam with Turtles in the Galápagos Islands.

But her bathing suit was an inanimate object.

She ran with elephants in the Sahara. 

But her boots were inanimate objects. 

So she went back to both and did them naked.

But it turns out both water and land themselves are inanimate objects.

And the tough Sahara ground had given her feet some awful blisters. 

And, yep bandaids, even more inanimate objects.

She was distraught, crestfallen even.

Years passed slowly as she failed to come up with answers. 

But then she had a brain wave.

After her feet had finally healed, she went into a deep period of intense meditation.

She studied and practiced and learned and studied.

It took twenty five years of non-stop dedication.

But she did it.

She learned to levitate. 

It was time.

She stripped off her clothes, and using all the will and strength she had saved and built over twenty five years she closed her eyes, tensed her muscles and her soul, and slowly yet gently she lifted off the ground.

Finally!

She was now the first person in history to have had an experience devoid of inanimate objects! 

Wow.

The effort took a huge toll on her physically. 

Upon landing she immediately passed out and fell into a deep coma that was to last several years. 

This was lucky for her in a way.

For it was only weeks later when the photos that had been taken of her amazing feat had gone well and truly viral was it pointed out...

that she'd forgotten to take her watch off.

Have you tried burning incense?

Jamie walked into a new age meditation and spiritualism store in He hipster section of town, trying to find the right incense scent for him.

He wandered past the books on buddism and witchcraft and found the incense section and began to browse.

'Let's see, what have we got here, vanilla - what in the fuck. VANILLA! 

Vanilla - so like oh yum ice-cream, what a lovely scent - till I get overwhelmed and try and eat it - and instead of cold deliciousness and get BURNED!

What if I run into someone I know, but not well, and so their name is right on the tip of my tongue, right where I'm burned, that will HURT!!! Vanilla? Get fucked!'

But Jamie was not ready to give up on incense just because one scent was poorly conceived 'let's see what else they have here' he said, before picking up a second stick

'Jasmine and Lavender, those are flowers, if I wanted my house to smell of flowers I'd go buy god damn flowers wouldn't I?'

You can't though can you 'for the wife'. No I'm single mr florist, you condescending ass! I don't have a girlfriend, a boyfriend or even a dog. I'm alone and lonely, thanks for reminding me you dick, who are you to fucking pry into people's fucking personal lives! You know why people first started giving people flowers don't you!!! Cause no one bathed, it was to cover up stink! Your job exists because of foul body odor, THINK ABOUT THAT FOR A WHILE MR JUDGMENTAL ASS!!!'

Jamie was beginning to get a tad annoyed. But he decided to try one more stick. 

'Frankincense and fucking Myrrh????! He screamed (these really are popular incense scents, I looked it up) people are gonna think

I have a Jesus complex - "look at Jamie, thinks he's Jesus. Oh look at the Jesus baby, thinks his moms a virgin and he's the king of the Jews, are you my king Jamie, do you needs me to wash your feet, let's get supper, oh touchy subject?' Jamie was sure his friends would say.

'God damn motherfucking kitchen appliance spinning damn ass bitch fucking stupid flag pole dumb fucking  incense scents!!!!!' He seriously bellowed at the stand!!! 

He was beginning to think that incense wasn't going to be as calming as his psychiatrist had lead him to believe.

True Greatness

Here at David Tieck and his Fleeting Forever we like to celebrate greatness. For example I myself am great at many things, including but not limited to:

- Friendship.

- Getting popcorn bits stuck in my gums.

- Longing for things.

- Recognizing whether or not my diet is healthy.

- Wrapping trees in imaginary ski outfits.

- Knowing the PERFECT times to shout 'that's a smart as giving a bulldozer to a seahorse'.

- Reconstructive criticism. 

- Being the only person at a party not temped to steal the coffee table book on erotic bakery.

- Crime solving. 

- Being one of the prettiest men at an average looking man convention.

- Modesty.

- Truthful list making. 

But the thing with greatness is that for the most part you have to actively participate in something before you know for sure you are great at it. The problem of course is that this leaves out in the cold all of the things you're great at that you've never actually done. I don't think this fair.

I for example have never actively worked in the pursuit and capture of serial killers, but I'm great at it. 

Here are some of my basic instincts to solving one of these cases, things that even the best criminal minds working in law enforcement have probably never even thought of:

- I would assume at the start of my investigation that in most serial killer situations that the murderer is normally someone who knows the victim and has a vendetta against them or alternatively someone who doesn't know them at all. 

- This would allow me to narrow the field down to get to brass knuckles and attack the status quo with a fresh canvas.

- I mean the killer is probably rarely people who genuinely know and adore the victim, unless they can maintain that AND sadistic and psychotic fantasies - but in my experience most people aren't good at hiding their secret desires.

- I mean look at Tiger woods - he secretly wanted to be good at golf - but he couldn't keep it a secret, because golf courses aren't open at night. 

- BUT, even though it now seems obvious, Tiger Woods almost never turns out the be the killer.

- So I'd probably only accuse him on one in every twelve cases or so, that way he wouldn't get suspicious of me being suspicious of him. 

- Plus after accusing him of one of the killings, if by chance he got off, after the trial I would say 'hey any chance you get give me some pointers on my swing?' Even though I no longer actually play golf. That way he'd think we are now buddies and he'd quickly trust me again.

- If my boss would ever be like 'good work Murphy' 

I'd be like 'nah it's Dave, not Murphy' And they'd be like 'it is, we've been trying to figure out your name for months, but you solved it just like that, you're a true wizard'.

- But if Tiger Woods ever said to me 'Good work Murphy' 

I'd be like 'Thanks'.

That way if someone told him 'some guy named Dave was over collecting DNA samples' he wouldn't worry that it was the cops, cause he'd think I was named Murphy. 

- I'd mostly chase after series killers who weren't bald, because they leave more hair lying around.

Yep, I'm kick ass at solving crimes by serial killers. Great at it even. What are you great at that you've never tried? Just don't say 'giving bulldozers to seahorses' cause I tried that once, it turns out it's not smart! 

Fear The Mailman

With a somber cloud sitting on his heart, Jarrad, a retail assistant in a small suburban book store, stared at an envelope. 

Now I should be clear, the envelope wasn't why he was somber. I don't want to give that impression at all. In setting the scene here I need to be clear. Because it could make perfect sense for a letter to give someone negative thought, I myself once felt morose over an envelope. And one time a postcard made me feel forlorn. It was from someone enjoying an exciting adventure that I wasn't getting to enjoy. How cruel, that's not what postcards were invented for. They're supposed to be for excuses to take photos of scantly clad people in front of famous monuments to remind people that beauty is subjective and comes in a variety of forms, and that if you think about it that means that you too are beautiful. So I don't mean at all to underestimate or undervalue the emotional power that a mere mailed selection of paper can wield, just that this was not the case here. 

In fact Jarrod was somber because of this conversation he'd just had with a co-worker. 

'Hey look, I store at a letter in a store'

'That's not a word you tool'

'Those are so all words' 

'No, 'store' isn't'

'Ha ha 'store' isn't a word? Then where are we working?' 

'No not that store the other store' 

'How can the same word be a word and also not be a word, don't be an idiot' 

'You 'stare' at something, you can't 'store' at it'

'It's a different tense, you 'stare' at it in the present, but you 'store' at it in the past'

'No, you 'stared' at it in the past'. 

'So you're telling me, that if I go over to the dictionary section which we still have even though people just use their phone dictionaries, that the word 'store' won't be in there?'

'It'll fucking be in there, but it won't have the definition you desire'

'But it'll be in there. I win'

'You weren't even fucking talking past tense by the way, you were currently looking at the letter, present tense'

'Look I was just making a pun for fucks sake, I was trying to be funny, even though the reading of books has entertained billions of people for hundreds of years, and given people some of the most pleasurable experiences of their lives, people these days will actually BRAG that they don't read 'so look how cool I am, I purposely avoid one of the most consistently enjoyable experiences human beings have ever discovered', so no one comes in here anymore, so I'm trying to be funny to pass the fucking time ok'

'You're not funny Jarrod, don't know how you ever thought you were'. 

That's why he was somber. Not because of the letter, are we clear? Ok good. So then he opened the envelope. 

The envelope contained a letter from his girlfriend saying that she was cheating on him with his best friend and they were pregnant, and the conception had happened in his bed, and that she'd been lying, she actually never washed the sheets, and that she did actually find the mole on his nose off putting, so much so that when she wanted to get out of work she'd just think about that and her boss would always say 'hey Lizza, you look sick, do you want to go home' and that yes all this time he'd been calling her 'Lisa' when her name was actually 'Lizza' and that's why her friends always found him funny, 'because they're laughing at you right in your face'. 

Ok, now he was somber for TWO reasons. In fact he may have even been a tad 'miffed'. Jarrod wasn't having such a fun day. 

Sadly things were only about to get worse. Deeper in that mail pile was a postcard. From someone enjoying an adventure he was not. Those bastards. 

Reconstructive Criticism

Reconstructive criticism

Let's face it, giving constructive criticism is one of the great joys in life. I mean who among us has not been in the dentist chair and stopped your dentist mid tooth and told them - you're too gentle, if you don't really make me bleed I won't get the message that I need to take better care of my teeth, now make those gums pour please.

Or been on a the soccer field and told an opposition player - if you really want to get me sent off don't just pretend I hurt you, firstly punch me really hard in the balls, that way you'll be on the ground, I'll have rage in my eyes and he referee will assume I've done something awful. 

Or told your boss at work - you should set up smell detectors in the bathroom to make sure people are really going, that way I'll have to take dangerous levels of laxatives to continue having regular hour long breaks on the toilet.

Or told your hang gliding instructor - let me fall once or twice, if by some miracle I live you wont ever have to do the weekly safety talk again. 

Or told your bully - after you beat me I go and around the corner and cry over the physical and emotional damage you've done me, come get a photo and show it around, then I'll be completely destroyed way quicker so you can really focus on finishing off my fellow wimps.

It's awesome. But I know what you're thinking, while these efforts are all selfless, generous and helpful, they all have a tiny flaw - that's right, you really hurt the other persons feelings. Which is something no one likes doing. Because no one wants to find out they haven't been the best dentist, immoral sportsman, boss, hang gliding instructor or bully they're capable of. 

That's why I want to invent reconstructive criticism - that's criticism that's constructive yes, but honest and brutal also yes, but then has a tacked on compliment at the end. 

Take the above criticisms and tack on these complimentary highlights to them. 

- it's not like I don't hurt at all, I mean one time I even fantasized about screaming 'OOOUUUCCHHH', so keep on dentisting.

- By the way, one of the times you pretended I hurt you, you were so realistic that I had to sleep with your sister in revenge, keep on cheating.

- Sometimes when I'm at home and I have horrible diarrhea I think of you, keep up the bossing.

- Plus if I die it'll let you remember that there's more to life than this practically dead sport you've dedicated your life to, keep on strapping yourself to people! 

- You've hurt me physiologically so much that I had you registered as a sex offender, keep up the brutal soul destruction.

There, now doesn't everyone feel good. 

Priorities

Cameron, a tuxedo salesman, was on his way to a lavish affair.

The invite said ‘black tie optional’.

He opted for yes.

At the party Cameron studied the other men’s outfits and took great delight in wearing what he was sure was the best-fitted tuxedo worn by any man there.

His expertise, his excellence, his mastery of the fit, was finally going to pay dividends.

Surely he would be a hit with the ladies. 

He was right too.

In fact six different women formed crushes on him at first sight. 

He truly was the master of the fit. 

However every one of them saw the way Cameron was studying the way the other men were attired and assumed he was gay.

A guy in a cheap ill fitted rental was the one who ended up shagging the swimsuit model.

A Magic Poem

'You need to work on your misdirection' said the master magician to his young apprentices mannequin filed pants, which had successfully fooled his master. 

Meanwhile his apprentice was stuck in the woods outside his masters not yet looted house, unable to circumnavigate the magicians sensor lights. 

Sadness

‘All the decent mega-mansions are in really boring neighborhoods’ said the sad billionaire with tears in his eyes.

‘Why can’t I just find a nice twenty bedroom plus place, with more than one pool, a full sized cinema, a banquet room, tennis courts in more than one surface, and a side pool house bigger than most upper middle-class people could ever dream of owning, that I will personally use to store all the art I own by household name known renaissance masters, that I don’t currently feel like looking at, in a neighborhood with nice restaurants, theaters, bars and a twenty four hour convenience store?’ He practically pleaded, now with tears streaming down his face.

He then pulled himself together, dabbed his eyes dry with hundred dollar bills, and went to sleep in a bed so big that both of his teenage mistresses were able to find space beyond his reach.

Heroic Teachings

As a comedian I'm not always all that serious. I like to take the piss. Make fun of stuff. Have a few laughs. Use my heightened wit to cruelly undermine the confidence of innocents. That's the job. 

But not today, I want to talk about something serious today. I was talking to an old school friend the other day. Clive. And he has a problem that he needed help with, it was weighing him down and making him feel foolish, and having put my mind to it, and heroically helped solve his dilemma, I thought perhaps I should help anyone here with a similar problem.

Oh by the way, Clive goes by the name chewbucca these days. Join the rebel alliance and you get all fancy apparently. But he was a good friend at school. Clive used to be really self-conscious about his voice, but I was the one that told him to listen out for people saying things like:

- I feel sick, I don't even know how to put it into words. 

- The weathers so 'blah' I don't even know how to describe it. Or 

- I think I'm about to get my period, I want to yell but I don't know WHAT to yell. 

And if he heard any of those said he should jump out and let off one of his trademark yawny bear roars. And every-time he'd get a laugh, sometimes people would even hug him and say 'yes, you nailed it Clive!' Which admittedly reminded him of how some of his family had been tortured, slaughtered and sometimes crucified by the Sith, but he said it was worth it for the laughs. 

In return, knowing I hadn't started puberty yet like all the other boys,  he'd sometimes give me some of his hair to glue onto my completely naked pubis area so I didn't look like I was a freak who hadn't entered puberty yet, and instead I could pass for a well haired in the genitalia person with a freak tiny baby dick. 

Anyway, Chewy, as his mates call him these days, was upset, saying our other mate Han, was making fun of him because his bowcaster blaster gun was dirty, and that he should probably wash it. And that's when Chewy broke down crying, and he told me 'I didn't even notice that it needed washing, in fact I NEVER know when it needs washing'.  

And before anyone fucking laughs at him, remember HE can smell an Ewok from 50 galactic miles, can you? No, we all have different skills ok. 

So, I'm not sure how many people here have the same problem of not knowing when your blasters need to be washed, I'm guessing maybe half, so here is a handy guide to tell if your personal bowcaster blaster or phase blaster needs to be cleaned: 

- It's really old. I'm telling you guys you may think 'my bowcasters old, I just want a new one' well no, it probably just needs scrubbing. It'll probably come up as good as new. Trust me. This actually works for grandparents too, fun fact, a few years ago I was going to trade my grandmother in for a younger model, but instead I decided to scrub her instead, she's been amazing since, now goes by the name Scarlett Johansson. 

- It was given to you by a friend who's known for giving gifts jammed up with gum. I'm not sure if you have friends like this, but I personally love to buy friends weapons and just jam them up with gum. Then suddenly you're out and a droid army attacks and your buddy goes to shoot and his phaser blows up in his hands! Ha ha ha. It's hilarious. HA HA HA. But, BUT this is important, I only do this to friends who I know will be hanging out with Jedi Knights guaranteed to save the day. If you personally aren't regularly in the company of Jedi then just clean your weapon. In fact do it anyways, give your Jedi buddy a break. 

- It's currently submerged in mud riddled swamp. Look I know what you're thinking, this is amazing laser technology and a little mud surely will not hurt. But think of this - what makes mud? Storms. What else do Storms make? That's right. Storm

troopers. If you think that's just a coincidence then you're utterly fooling yourself. 

- It looks dirty. 

- You've been letting kids play with it. They ALWAYS have sticky fingers. And sticky weapon can lead to a less fun battling experience, just think about how much less fun you'd have next time your defending a satellite dish that's destruction could ultimately lead to the complete annihilation of several entire planets, including those that hold everyone you love, now do you want a fun experience, or a sticky experience? 

- You've been playing with Luke's lightsaber even though he asked you not to. For a Jedi he is surprisingly petty and spiteful. 

- It smells bad. It might still work fine, but no one likes a stinky battle comrade. Here's a trick, submerge it in a bowl of good quality Greek yogurt, then rinse it off with Jawa blood, works every time. 

Alright guys. Get to work. Clean your bowcaster blaster or phase blasters if need be, if you need some Jawa blood in happy to go hunting with you, and yet still - you're an adult now, you should always keep Jawa blood in the house, and if not let's hit the Catinina, Saber Glow is playing tonight, and I'm told their new drummer is green! Ha ha. Can you believe that?  

Profound Thoughts - A poem

'You can never ever see your own face' thought the small boy, one night while lying in his bed, looking up at a glow in the dark universe of stars stuck to his ceiling.
'Oh yes, in pictures, and reflections, but those are reversed, two dimensional, flawed'
'Ok, well if I scrunch my face up I can see the top of my cheeks. And I can see the tip of my nose'.
'And yes if I protrude my lips forward so I can see those. And my fully extended tongue is quite visible.'
'And of course I am an identical triplet, there are two other identical faces out there, in those rooms adjacent to mine'.

'And the three of us did just star in the latest 3D blockbuster where we got to see huge three dimensional version of ourselves and our identical brothers.'
'But other than that, I'll never see my own face'.
'Kind of weird'.
'Sort of profound'.
'Beautiful in a way'.
'Outward appearance may dominate much of my existence and yet I'll never truly know my own'
Just then a grizzly bear broke through his bedroom window and ate off his face.
Only his brothers were in the sequel.