In the news

'SCAREMONGER!!!' Little five year old Jim Dellom responded with enthusiasm anytime he was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. 

He'd read about one in the newspaper and even though he didn't understand all the words, a scaremonger sounded like the neatest most ace thing ever. 

He could scare Scott Kilm who'd once called him a 'stupid head' even though he was told his head was where his brain was and so was probably the least stupid part of his body, which is why he called just about every kid he saw a 'stupid penis'. 'The one part of the body none of the boys or girls will EVER think with' he reasoned. 

He could scare monsters, although he didn't really fear them too much anymore after seeing a fascinating documentary about them called Mobsters, Inc, which he found to present a strong argument suggesting current stereotypes in regard to monsters to be nothing short of hearsay and unfounded pessimism. Although his friend Joshy McGill does swear they're the reason he peed the bed when he had come to Jim's house for a sleep over.  

He could scare the bad man that took his mommy away from his daddy and now wanted to be called daddy himself, which he didn't understand because he thought a 'daddy' was someone who called a 'mommy' a 'cheating whore', not someone who helped him with his kicking in soccer. 

He could scare Miss Frucen who once told him to 'try harder' even though he already was trying really, really, really, really hard, suggesting that perhaps SHE should TEACH harder! I mean honestly, she was a grown up which meant she was born a giant and knows EVERYTHING, how did she not know this? 

He could even scare that bad person that EVERYONE was telling him to be very afraid of and stay far away from, called 'strangers', even though he'd never met him or her even after chasing down and asking almost every new person he could find anywhere what their name was. 

Yep, little five year old Jim Dellom knew EXACTLY what he wanted to be when HE grew up, a super cool, super awesome, not dork like at all - scaremonger! 

Unfortunately he was yet to find out that if you start reading the newspaper from age five you've got no chance of growing up to be anything but a cynical asshole. 

The Only Rule

 Before that day I'd never even been to Longer Hair Than I Remembered Town.

The town with one single rule:
'If you see someone you haven't seen in a while you MUST say to them "your hair is longer than I remembered"'.

The rule seemed cruel.
At first.
At least to those who had severe balding issues. Their hair retreating faster than a hedgehog retreats from a grizzly bear that's been singing 'hedgehog, want to eat hedgehog, yes today I'm gonna’ hog my hedge' the song grizzlies traditionally sing to throw off the chipmunks they actually plan to eat, unaware that the hogs and the munks have long since broken the code, and have an alliance in falling back and informing the leaders of each species so their scientists can log it into their official records in hope they can finally find some pattern in their scatter plot graphs dedicated to bear snack habits, with plans to develop and market an energy bar specifically targeting bears, so that they can try and get an investor for it on Shark Tank.

'I'm bald you asshole!' People assumed they'd hear the bald and balding reply.

Yes the rule seemed cruel.
At first.
Even to those who had merely just had a poorly timed haircut. Their mistake not planned nor intended, like an Olympic gymnast misreaching their target by a fraction of an inch meaning the glory of gold has been replaced by a smashing of groin on wooden beam and with it severe genitalia damage, requiring reconstructive surgery ironically so expensive the surgeon in question uses the windfall to purchase a pure gold toilet, which unbeknownst to him fosters bacteria, and with it disease, far more intensely than your typical porcelain commode, resulting in dysentery and painful death.

Yes the rule seemed cruel.
At first.
'No, no, why would you say that? I just had a haircut yesterday; it's the shortest it's been in a while. Don't you like it? Did the hairdresser mess up? Please don't hurt a gymnast! Commode means toilet right?' People assumed they'd often hear the recently cut plead.

Those faithless fools.
Those dweeb like doubters.
Those misguided misanthropes.

For the 'longer hair than I remembered' rule was soon to reinvent, rejuvenate and revolutionize the town.

For starters the fact that the town was called 'Longer Hair Than I Remembered Town' finally made sense. Ending the cloud of confusion that had previously slowed down progression.

But then unexpected fringe benefits came into existence too.

Small talk was forever changed.

Bettered.
Corrected.
People no longer started every conversation with the weather, and how this specific town was located at the end of a narrow wind tunnel that originated in the Canadian Rockies where it ran full speed into the towns main local industry, manure production, which is a warm and steamy industry, and how the clash of temperature and pressure systems left the town almost continuously in the midst of a particularly 'unpleasant' 'sleet' storm, and now instead they got talking about the things that really matter to everyone more than anything else - superficial looks - and hitherto the previously common 'you've got brown snow in your hair' began to disappear.

But then there were even more fringe benefits. For example it's hard to rob a bank after the teller has made mention of your specific hair cut 'oh shit I've been recognized' was the typical reaction 'sorry about that "give me all the money or I'll shoot your brains into that photocopier" I was just kidding' became a common phrase in banks.

Yes it turned out that this new rule was to be the best thing that had happened to this town in over a fifty years (which was when the locals discovered that cows made cow manure and an industry was born), everyone who lived there had learned to adore it, all eight of them.

But unbeknown to everyone there, a not yet noticed flaw was about to rear its ugly little manure covered head. You see the rule only applied to people you hadn't seen in a while. And as it was my first time in town I had never seen anyone here, ever before. So there was to be no 'your hair looks longer than I remember' for me.

So pissed off and angry at being treated like such an outsider I lashed out and robbed there bank, and in my haste to escape I knocked over the chipmunks scatter plot which had been foolishly left out on its easel.

Yes, they say rules are meant to be broken, but occasionally, just occasionally they are perfectly fine going unbroken, just as long as you’ve worked out what would happen if Dave came to town.

Back On The Agenda

Hello everybody, normally here on David Tieck and his Fleeting Forever, I like to focus on high art. Sometimes the art here gets so high it begins to develop frost and suddenly snowboarders begin to hang around it hoping it soon gets dusted with some sweet powder, but before it does they are so overwhelmed by the beauty, imagination and progressiveness of the art that they quit snowboarding and switch to artboarding, which is why you may have read about how the Van Gogh kept on the third floor at the Philadelphia Metropolitan Museum of Metropolitan Art recently has been officially upgraded in value a full ten percent because of its new found popularity with youth culture, and why the Louvre in Paris sadly no longer allows in 'Any Extreme Sports Facilitating Instruments Longer Than Six Feet' (for shame louvre). 

But today I'm not going to make fine art, because today I've got something on my mind, namely - sledgehammers, and more specifically I have a thought about sledgehammers on my mind, namely - why doesn't anyone think about sledgehammers anymore? 

Here are some little known facts about sledgehammers: 

- They are a tool that preside in the 'hammer' category of 'hammering devices'.

- They're made of 'sledge' which is the sludge left over after a simple bathroom scum scrub.  

- They're a badass weapon of wall destruction wielded by badass wall destroyers.

- Unless you're not that strong, and can barely lift them, in which case they mock you, and make you cry yourself to sleep staring at your bedroom wall moaning 'Nooo, it's not fair, nooooo I don't think you'll EVER be destroyed'.

- They rhyme with Wedgescammer. Don't want to be scammed of all your precious wedges? I know which one I'd pick.

- They come in a tiny yet subtle assortment of exciting sizes and designs.  

- If your local mom n pop owned general store sells them there is a chance you live in a small town.

- They're better than slimehammers, sometimes even better than spewhammers.

Awesome right? Badass even! So where have they gone? Why aren't people talking about them? Maybe it's up to us? Let's get them BACK on and even IN the public consciousness! Let's get them back into all our lives, the way they used to be, before smart phones, when we spent our times with friends avoiding making a real connection by staring at our sledgehammers, not our phones. 

Here's what you can do - we need people to connect sledgehammers to love again, so start finding ways to bring them up at the exact times the people YOU care about are talking about the things THEY care about. Here are some tips:

- Next time your best friend comes to you heart broken after 'the one' abruptly ended it, remind them that sledgehammers tend to be more loyal than humans and can keep you just as warm at night. 

- Next time your buddy wants to talk about the big game that's on this weekend that they care about 'more than my parents, career or even love itself' subtly say 'I hope your team sledgehammers the opposition, then after climb the podium to collect the trophy and crack open a few sledgehammers and spray them everywhere before a night drinking crisp sledgehammers, dancing with the all girls wearing the tightest sledgehammers, in all the hippest night sledgehammers in town, but remind them if they go home with one of these girls to wear a sledgehammer, unless they want baby sledgehammers, which of course they do.

- Next time your neighbor comes over and says 'I have a small crumbled old brick barbecue pit in my backyard that I wouldn't mind getting rid of, any tips on how to break up the brick? Reply 'have you tried a sledgehammer'? 

Yep, it's going to happen people, we're planting, growing and even harvesting sledgehammers BACK to where they belong - EVERYWHERE! 

Oh and also, remember - if you're going to go boarding this week on a Picasso, or a Monet or perhaps on a piece of performance art in a small but iconic black box theater, make sure you tell them you were inspired by Dave Tieck. 

Man, I'm really changing the world today, I think I'm going to go celebrate with delicious sledgehammer sundae. 

The Frustrated Narrator

‘Like I said’ began Quinton.

‘I begun’ added Quinton, swiftly and irately ‘how have I just begun if I said, “like I said”, that shows history and past, can we get this right please?’

‘It’s still where you began in this specific story, but you can actually begin with history if you didn’t know, and by the way history and past are basically the same thing, so if you are going to question me at least don’t be redundant! So why don’t you do your fucking job and I’ll do my fucking job, okay?’ Replied the frustrated narrator.

‘Did you just insert yourself into my story?’ Questioned Quinton.

‘Don’t be like that you fucking prick, I’m the narrator, I control this story, and I control you, so get back to it you fucking asshole’ threatened the frustrated narrator.

‘Ah yeah, control this’ yelled Quinton. Then he shot himself in the head.

‘No no no, aggghhh, what the fuck, my god, no that’s the second story in a row I have narrated where the protagonist has just offed himself and left me with nothing to narrate. Fuck!’ said the frustrated narrator.

‘Oh well, at least I narrated the shit out of my own bit, named myself perfectly too’ added the Frustrated Narrator. 

‘He’d just become the narcissistic narrator’ said the narcissistic narrator. ‘Oh what the fuck?’ he added, frustratingly.

You've Been Scienced - A Brand New Lesson

The Weeds

'.... he was in the dog house, the weeds, behind the eight ball, one hand clapping, and killing two birds with one stone, The End! Yes motherfucker! Boom!!!' 

John had sworn he could say one sentence that included every known idiom, cliche and common saying that had ever been uttered in the English speaking world more than a thousand  times, and after a marathon sixty hour soliloquy he'd come to the end. 

'Well I've got to hand it to you, the emperor has new clothes, didn't need to teach this old dog any new tricks, this is a man who sees the forest for ALL of its trees, everyone, bow down, and raise your glass to John! Passionately declared John's best friend Nick. 

After the beers gulped, the pure electricity that reverberated around the bar began its decent back to normality and John walked over to Nick. 

'Thanks for the speech mate, you're a champion friend, and even though this time I tasted the victory you wore defeat with honor and dignity, you're a true friend and thank you kindly for that speech' said John

'What speech?' Replied Nick

'The one you just did, raise your glass etc' stated John.

'Oh that wasn't a speech, I was just listing common phrases you'd missed from your grand soliloquy, I most certainly won. You're a big fat loser, and I'm the King of the castle - there, even more cliches you missed, you fucking dumbass!' Mocked a triumphant Nick, a man who would soon make it clear not only was he not honorable in defeat, but a total boasting, teasing, fuck head in victory, who would absolutely be making John go through with the terms that the loser gets Daffy Duck tattooed on their forehead. In fact Nick would make sure it happened before either of them went home, after all it shouldn't take more than an hour or two, of course first there would be a couple more beers and an hour more vile and biting mockery at least.

Meanwhile back at his home, Nick's beautiful young wife was sitting in bed seething 'alright that's officially sixty fucking hours since I last heard from that asshole husband of mine' she said to herself, anger littering and biting through every single syllable 'that's it, I'm officially going to fuck his best friend John, in fact I'm going to fuck him once for every hour Nick ends up being gone'.

It turned out to be the sixty-second time she fucked John that he impregnated her. 

Nick didn't find out till 'his' son was fourteen. John used the money he saved on child support to get the tattoo removed, and the confidence he gained from great sex with his now ex-best-friends wife to foster a great period of growth and productivity as a person which ended up sprouting into a rich fulfilling life.

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.