Grey Matter

Hello everyone,

Random unimportant and mostly irrelevant post from Fleeting Forever CEO Dave Tieck here. But, something occurred to me just now, and it's something that few have probably thought, or will ever think, or will ever have the foresight ro think - which sucks, and is shit, and possibly even sucks shit. But I don't want to even think that, because fuck that, but also do not fuck this, because this matters, for now, but probably not in a way that will grow over the coming days...

Elephants, yeah man, how good are elephants?

Yep. That's it. I am positive this will be the end of this matter. A truth has been told. That's rad. Hell yeah it is. And that's a small, yet profound truth, we can ALL enjoy.

Just to reiterate...

Elephants, yeah man, how good are elephants?

Hell to the fuck YEAH!

Idea postured.

Idea debated.

Idea DONE.

That's the world I want to live in.

And that's the world I DO live in. A world we all live in. A world which has elephants. And if you ask me, and I assume you do, then this is the only answer I will ever give...

Elephants, yeah man, how good are elephants?

Hell to the fuck, to the oh mother fuckin' yeah!

That's the end of that awesome chapter... 

The Bog - A Poem

‘Wow, that stinks so bad it could melt a tool shed’

Thought Dave, to himself, after taking a particularly smelly bog. 

Then he spent a full fifteen minutes pondering upon why on earth a melting tool shed had popped into his mind.

And what would a tool shed melting look like. 

And why on earth was he STILL sitting on the toilet. 

Then he wasted another ten minutes writing this down. 

And missed the end of the show he was watching. 

It was really shit. 

Or bog. 

Why isn’t that a term by the way? 

“Have you seen that new movie”

“Yeah

“What did you think?” 

“I thought it was bog” 

That’s awesome.

I’m totally going to start using that. 

One of THOSE days, man

One of THOSE days man - with Guest blogger - “Two handed” Jimmy McYeep

Have you ever had one of those days where you’re just like “oh man, oh hell yeah man, if I had a bus man, woah, the things I would do! Man” 

You know those days? 

Cause man. Oh, um fuck yes man, yep, I’m having one of those days man, and if you’re one of those people who’ve had a day like that man, then you know it dude, you know it don’t ya? It’s fuckin’ rad man. It’s full on rad like a hat in the wind that’s your size on a day where the wind is your speed in a town where it’s a no hat no service type of vibe, and the kites that are a’flyin are telling ya that the speed of wind thats blowin’, well that’s your speed of wind, and it is flyin’ high my friends, so this is your type of town, and you’ll get that service if ya want it, but you don’t know if ya do, because the wind in question hasn’t told you WHAT it is blowin’, now has is man? 

Yep, it’s rad I’m telling ya. I’m beaming. You’ve been here right? Wow a day where I get to dream about a day where I might have a bus one day, man, that’s the dream man! 

There’s so much going through my mind right now. Just so much man. Like...

- what kind of bus would it be if I had a bus? 

- would it be any color I wanted? And if not could I paint it man? 

- would it have lots of seats? 

- or lots of space seats may have been at some point? 

- or might STILL be one day?

- oh hell yeah man? 

And that’s just the start dude. I means maybe it’s even before the start man, because that’s not where the joy ends man, no way that’s where it ends, the end is far out in the distance, like a horizon that can’t be seen because of the carnival of joy that’s descending towards the cliff face of fun, and you know you’re gonna get to ride the rollercoaster right off that cliff man, because your daddy owns a piece of the pie in the pie store that’s sponsoring the cow competition and those are benefits you can take to the bank, with the chance to walk right up to the manager and say, I get service today, because see this hat, it blew in just like I said it would man! That’s how far from the end we are man, because this rad journey of awesome times has barely even begun man, and if you’ve had one of those days man, you know the other part of the joy wave I’m surfin’ to the pie shop man, I’m surfin’ a swelling pride of also getting to imagine what I’d DO with said bus if I ever got to have one man, things like...

- wonder who chose this chair configuration? 

- think about how much paint it would take to paint it a different color should there be a color I’d prefer enough to climb off my high horse and trek down to the paint store and jump off my high horse and unleash my paint purchasing skills to the levels of aplomb I’m most capable of, man, regardless of horse size?

- Consider drivin’ it somewhere? 

- The bus that is, man. 

- Consider NOT drivin’ it somewhere?

- The horse OR bus that is man?

- Regardless of height of either? 

Hell to the yeah down by the beach side kite store man. The possibilities are ENDLESS. Endless like a Pandora’s box of pent up bath tub scum around the edges of a well worn magic chest of hope that you’re holding up high man, in both hands, or maybe even only one hand man, I’m not judgmental. Who could be judgmental on a day like this dude, cause I’m having one of those days man. 

Yep one of THOSE days! 

Because oh man, oh hell yeah man, fuck yeah, I get to think about what I’d do if I one day had the chance to one day own a bus man. 

Fuck yes. 

I hope you’re having a rad day like this too man, or at least you’re flyin’ a kite or something, because rad days come in all sizes dude. Just like hats in the wind...

Also anyone want pie? If so, give us a buzz. I know a guy. 

Yours sincerely, 

“Two Handed” Jimmy McVeep

Fun fact

Fun fact: or as I prefer to say...

Enjoyment Truth: because enjoying stuff is rad, and every bit as good as having fun, and truth is like a fact that is real! And enjoying a fact that turns out to be real, means your enjoyment is real, and when your enjoyment is real, then dude, now we’re having fun. And who doesn’t want more fun? Check these folk out...

The second one is better right? Yes it is!

So hell yeah - here’s an enjoyment truth that will blow your mind: ready?

I bet ‘Sorry I’ve blanked on your name’ - would be a badass NAME to have! 

Kapow. 

Now THAT was enjoyment truth that shits all over fun and factual shit. 

Cause think about it. Every single time there was an awkward running into of two acquaintances YOU would be the star of the show. 

You! 

Because they’d be all like ‘sorry I’ve blanked on your name’ 

And EVERYONE has awkward running intos with acquaintances from time to time. EVERYONE. 

That’s means. Yes yes. I know some of you are getting it already. Congrats if you’re one of them... but don’t feel bad if your not, even I’m not, and I’m writing this...

But that means 

EVERYONE will be talking about YOU (at least occasionally, in situations which are awkward).

Boom. 

Explosarific. 

Now you’re not just tasting success, but you ARE success. 

And I know what you’re thinking. ‘If I want to BE success, why don’t I just name myself ‘success’. 

Well I’ll give you three reasons why.

1. You don’t name yourself, your parents do.

2. You think everyone is talking about success? Ha ha. Hello Mr or Mrs Naive

3. Yep, that’s right, I just named you Mr or Mrs Naive. That’s your name now. Cause that’s how naming people works. 

4. What’s success if you can’t taste it, and if you’re tasting yourself you’re just a normal person, because your mouth is FULL of you. So yeah, if you’re tasting the yourself you’re just a filthy norm. And who wants to be a filthy norm? I wouldn’t even want to be a clean norm. And the only way to take a filthy norm and turn them into a clean norm is to douse them in monkey urine. And do you know how they acquire monkey urine? With a spatula. Um ‘spat’. Um ‘ula’. Um Gross. 

5. Except me. I want to be normal. And I think I’ve proven my normality with this blog.

6. I might even be the worlds MOST unique normal dude. 

7. Fuck yeah! 

So to sum up. Have you just been born or are thinking of being born soon? 

If so make sure to have your parents name you ‘sorry I’ve blanked on your name’. 

It’d be rad. 

The middle name and/ or surname are irrelevant by the way. Although I recommend ‘Meredith’, ‘Drew’, or ‘Queen of Scots’ for both. Depending on your feelings about Scots. And how you think you’d feel about Drew Barrymore marrying the fictional character Nancy Drews. Personally I’m all for it. But I’m just me. Well 99.9234% me, and 0.2145% the worlds leading mathematician. Obviously. 

Also if you know what success tastes like, can you please describe it for me, I’m thinking of starting a lollipop company, and I bet if we had that flavor we’d be rocking in no time! And by rocking I mean ‘enjoying truth’ and wow, that a fun fact I could take to the bank! (Or ATM, depending on YOUR definition of fun :) 

Highway Robbery - A Poem

Here’s a poem. Which is awesome. Because poems are literature. Which is a word meaning ‘literally words’. And almost everything truly great ever said ever was said in words. Except all those rad speeches made by Mumbler The Great of Macedonia. Who everyone found super motivational, until the one day someone finally stood up and said ‘I’ll say it, I don’t know what he’s saying, do you?’ And everyone in the room let out a huge sigh of relief, followed by ‘I thought I was the only one’ collectively sighed by all present. And it was ON that bubble of air formed from that very collective sigh, that the first Hot Air ballon managed to reach the stratosphere for the first time, killing all on board, cause oxygen tanks hadn’t been invented yet. But it was those hero’s accidental death that in part LED to the invention of oxygen tanks. Yes. All because of words. 

Highway Robbery - A Poem 

Samantha, a future actuary, was literally born DURING a highway robbery. 

‘This is highway robbery’ yelled Samantha immediately after taking stock of the situation. 

‘Woah’ Said the highway robbers, well ghapsed, well, no that’s not right either. Um collectively sighed? No. They ‘woah’d’. That’s what you do when you woah. Why doesn’t that word properly exist yet literature? You dick. Well I’m making it happen. 

‘Woah’ they woah’d. Kapow!

As they lowered their guns.

And climbed off their horses.

‘She was just born this moment and she can already talk?’ They said in deep southern drawls. Southern being the most popular drawl of the era. Although apparently it would soon be misused in Macedonia for speeches. Which is why drawling is no longer popular now. 

‘You can have her for 10 gold bars’ replied Samantha’s mother. 

‘10 gold bars!’ They yelled, I mean drawled, loudly. 

‘TEN gold bars?’ They reintegrated. Having forgotten the word ‘reiterated’ momentarily.

‘TEN GODDAM GOLD BARS!’   

‘Why that’s god damn a regular back road fair price!’ replied the highway robbers. 

It was an unsatisfactory conclusion for word play lovers everywhere. Some were so mad they called this whole endeavor highway robbery! Kapow! 

The end

 Thank you words.

Eve my ass

Drinking Drinks with Dave

Come for the promise of drinks.

STAY for the mother f’n DELIVERY of said promise ! 

KAPOW! 

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. 

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  

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.  

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..

4. 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!

How do you like your laba?

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
Garbage
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!
Congratulations!