Time after time

And now ten signs that your latest escapades back in time in your time machine have failed to make the changes to the present that you had so hoped. 

1. Your wife Meredith is in a mood. 

2.  A really bad mood.

3. Her worst mood that you've ever encountered. 

4. And you can't seem to stop it.

5. And you've tried stuff.

6. Lots of stuff.

7. I mean you've tried offering her tea, you've tried hugging her, you've tried reminding her about the fun weekend you recently had together in Wilmington, you've tried ignoring her and watching TV, you've tried yelling at her to 'get over it', you've tried talking on the phone to your buddy and loudly exclaiming 'my wife's in a bitch of a mood, so why don't we head to Mexico for a few days', you've tried getting her a drink from the fridge without even asking if she wanted one, and then when it turned out that she didn't want one you tried just drinking it yourself so that she wouldn't be able to add your 'wasteful fucking ways' to her list of complaints, you've tried putting the cat on her lap and reminding her how cute she is, the cat that is, you've tried hiding in the backyard treehouse, you've tried offering to take the kids to their grandparents for the weekend, you've tried wrapping her in bacon and reminding her 'everything is better wrapped in bacon' and you've even tried telling HER she's cute, which she is most certainly not, yes you have TRIED to end her mood. 

8. Before you went back in time you didn't have a wife Meredith, in fact you were an eighty five year old gay man. 

9. And your cat was a monkey.

10. You HAD been trying to change your green hat blue.

That was ten signs that your latest escapades back in time in your time machine have failed to make the changed to the present that you WANTED to make. 

Next time just buy a blue hat you fools. 

Oh sad, sad world? - A poem

Floods, earthquakes, the ongoing war between the mongoose and snakes of the world and overpriced coffee 

But life isn't all bad 

For example 

I saw a rainbow the other day 

I didn't want to

It wasn't a choice 

I wasn't like seeking it out 

Running around in Hawaii with my shirt off yelling 

'Show yourself you bastard!!'

I don't do that

Pants off either

I only scream at the sky completely clothed!!!

Cause I'm a decent human 

Not like all you animals 

No I just ran into this rainbow randomly

But it turned out to be the best rainbow I'd ever seen 

Enormous 

Seemed to cover the whole sky

Just one color too 

Blue 

A lesson in impression

I know what you're thinking 'my girlfriend/ boyfriend/ lover/ ambiguously gendered slice of Banana Cream Pie, with whom I am currently in a committed and loving relationship with LOVES octopuses, so I know just what I am going to do to make them happy!' 

Well stop it NOW! Do NOT try to source six spare human arms to have surgically grafted to your body in order to become a human octopus. 

Here are some things you are probably forgetting that may prove important to this plan: 

- Some people/ slices of pie say things like 'I love octopuses' when it turns out, due to similarities and poorly created, deeply inaccurate renditions in popular cartoons, what they actually love is squid.

- A human octopus still has 'human' in the name, so you're going to fail to become an actual octopus. 

- No one wants to date a failure. 

- Failures suck. 

- Look at professional athletes, hardly ever win everything always, and therefore are deeply undesirable. 

- Except the ones that are good looking. 

- But you don't want to date someone that superficial do you? No, you want someone who wants you for being an octopus. 

- And in doing so proves that the whole time they were dating you as a human they were secretly coveting something drastically different than you. 

- Obviously you'll now become one of the world's foremost masseuses so there will be the flow on financial gains.

- But that'll be where you continue to fail.

- No one wants to date a rich human octopus. 

- Just look at professional 'being really rich guys', practically 90% of them are NOT human octopuses. 

- Plus being a masseuse really isn't actually that fun a job, cause your thumbs always get tired. 

- Plus where are you going to get these arms? 

- Steal them from graves? 

- Borrow your friends under a promise to pay them back, even though you both know you never pay your debts? 

- From, according to my recent Google searches, what turns out to be a very healthy and easy to find black market for human body parts? 

- Sorry, more failure. 

- Most of those will end up having slightly different skin-tones, moisturizing needs or fingernail grow speed, where as a REAL octopuses arms are actually tentacles. 

- You idiot.

Still not convinced? Well check out this true story: 

Benny, a real estate agent, wanted to impress his partner, Candice, an octopus lover, for her birthday. After a six month period of constantly putting on nature documentaries and well researched sea based cartoons, he finally was convinced that Candice did in fact love octopuses and not squid, so borrowed some arms from his mates, and hit the surgeon up for a quick graft session after work. 

When he got home to surprise her things abruptly, and shockingly, took a turn for the worse. Due to delirium from the medications used during surgery, in an attempt to get his energy back up, he went to the fringe and accidentally ate Candice. 

Plus he forgot to put on chocolate syrup which he normally demands with Banana Cream Pie. 

Plus it turns out that eight month old pie is no longer good for your stomach.

Plus when he told his now armless mate that he'd been dating an eight month old, his mate replied 'octopus don't have legs you idiot, surely eight limbs total would have been fine' leading to an argument that led to a very comical physical confrontation, which as captured on witnesses phones, made the news. 

Which made them both famous.

And with fame came all the chicks and pie they wanted.

So don't become a human octopus people, just become famous, or if you can't do that just start dating people who love squid. 

By my calculations

Robert 'Bob' McGrath was South Florida University's premier astrophysicist. He was internationally renowned, and an acclaimed author of best selling 'astrophysics for the layman' books:

- Comet inside and learn.

- Meteorlright by me. And

- How 'twinkle twinkle little star' is turning kids into little morons.

But Bob was frustrated. 

'I just know EVERYTHING, I miss the joy of learning a new equation' he lamented one day to a buddy. 

'Just get all the knowledge taken out, get a lobotomy' came the reply, as a joke. 

But Bob took it seriously. 

He just re-learned 1+6 = 7.

It made him so happy he peed his pants. And the institution he now lives in punished him by strapping him to his bed without dinner. 

All she wanted - A Poem

All Karen wanted was to see Connecticut during the autumn when the leaves were in their full fall colors.

'Oh I'd love to see Connecticut when the leaves were in their full fall colors' she'd exhale, with her hands on her heart, and whimsical joy in her voice, whenever she'd see images of the falling leaves on one of her beloved Connecticut set, foliage happy television shows. 

'We live in fucking Vermont' her husband would scream every time she raised it. 

The 'the leaves are every-bit as good here, if not better' was by now left unsaid.

That and more were implied in use of the word 'fucking'.

It was a space and time preserving trick, and clearly a novel use of language.

It also served to compliment and accent what a tremendous dick he was. 

Sadness - A Poem

Robbi, a freakishly giant eyed twenty year old, was hiding in the closet crying. 

His buddies were in the living room. 

Plans for a road trip were brewing. 

Robbie wanted to go.

But there would be no 'eye spy with my GIANT eye' for Robbie to play.

Down down there

'You can't climb a valley'

Yes wise words, wise indeed, wiser than say eating a block of wood, to name just one example of something not as wise, although there are probably even more potential examples out there waiting to be discovered. Potentially as many as a dozen. 

You know what? 'Potential can suck a dick', I had potential as a monkey wrangler when I was ten, and look what's become of me. When was the last time I wrangled a monkey? This past Tuesday, that's when. Well pros do it every hour on the hour every hour, so I am no pro, so fuck potential, let's name them all! 

Things less wise than 'you can't climb a valley' include:

- Eating a block of wood.

- Making a movie based on the Novel 'Scum Sundaes' without the lead character being lactose intolerant due to PC 'don't make fun of lacties' bullshit, and therefore literally flushing the drama down the toilet like a lactose free turd.

- Taking photos of memories of photos. 

Ok, I think that's it. Yep, potential, maybe the worst thing ever conjured by man. Oh no, wait..

- Conjuring up the theory of potential.

Still far less than a dozen, fuck you chickens. 

Castle

The castle was built strong. 

At least as strong as the materials available allowed. 

Which is strong enough. 

I don't need anyone saying 'it'd be stronger if it were made out of rock, concrete or even wood' because rock, concrete and wood were not available ok. 

So stop living your life in an alternative beautiful 'I wish land', where the fruit is sweet, the rocks are plentiful and unicorns didn't all stab themselves to death trying to lick themselves like dogs. 

If 'I wish land' existed there would be no need for wishes anymore because the ultimate wish would have already been honored and all the now abundantly available wishes would go wasted damn it. 

Lainy, the castles architect and foreman during construction, was proud of her achievement, and honored when praise swam her way.

Praise having recently begun to develop gills after an exhaustive and finally successful cross-breeding campaign with squid, which were able to accurately describe what gills looked like during post coital pillow talk, allowing praise to whip some up in a lab.

And the lord above, impressed with the castle, and relaxing after getting a rare day off from being the thing solely in charge of putting gills on things, glowed light upon the castle, a clear signal that this was a structure for the ages.

Although two minutes after turning on the glow the lord was all like 'for Christ's sake lord, when you're relaxing RELAX, this is exactly the type of thing the doc was saying I have high blood pressure, that and all the deep fried Ox spine'.

The castle was officially a success. 

And in being so, totally dampened the embarrassment that came with the fact she peed her pants on the bus ride to the beach.

Or should that be dried the embarrassment.

No, surely embarrassment starts dry, and needs to be moistened? 

It's like a rash, you WANT it wet. 

Either way, Lainy was feeling good again, something she doubted was possible just minutes earlier. 

Although she still planned to put fire ants in her stupid brothers bed for the nonstop teasing he'd unleashed, that stupid faced stupid head. 

On the lip - A Poem

Jessica sat on the lips of the steps leading down to the beach. 

'If only these steps could talk' she thought to herself with a rye chuckle.

'Holy crap, it'd probably tell Harry's wife what we did here, and she'd come and carve my fucking vagina out!'

So she took out her lighter, crushed it with her foot, dropped her cigarette on it, and lit it all on fire.

As she ran back to her car, the bathers on the beach were noticeably intrigued by the the cry that echoed off the sand banks...

'That's what you get when you can't keep your mouth shut, you gossiping cunt!' 

How Insulting

'Well you look like you got your hands on seventeen excess candy wrappers and you'd like to distribute them to needy badgers from mythology!' I yelled at him. 

I'd been through an ordeal, I'd been slighted, I wanted payback, and If I'm honest, and I think I'd like to be right now, I am not sure I was completely proud of this insult. 

Sure it had its positives, such as:

- Imagery of badgers, an animal that's often bandied about in mediums as diverse as pop art, kids cartoons and rap songs that are desperate to find a rhyme for 'groin smadger'. And yet they are an animal people still don't know tons about, I mean what's your average badger thinking right now? Who knows! Right. That's mysterious, and therefore it's profound and beautiful. 

- The choice to make the candy wrappers 'distributed' rather than 'redistributed' singling that they remained fresh, relevant and casndecent. 

- The specifics of the number 'seventeen' which subliminally would have descended him to youth, and with it the contrasting youthful trademarks of contrasting insecurity yet arrogance, recklessness yet naivety, and freedom basking under a low wattage globe glow of significance teetering parental rule. 

So yes, it was by no means a complete failure as an insult. 

But there were failings too, such as:

- Forcing in the word 'excess' even while fully aware that the volumes mentioned clearly IMPLIED excessiveness, and I of all people know all too well that a cloud of implication shall always rain heavier than a solidly hurled brick.

- Use of the colloquialism 'you look

like', suggesting that my issue was implicit on a perceived appearance of something rather than genuine and well founded dose of real and truthful emotional reaction to actual actions that had taken place. 

- Absence of swears.

So yes, there were failings, and if I'm going to be hornets, (the most honest of all sting heavy bugs) and I'd like to be, my underpants are surprisingly sweaty right now, and also the insult in question here was probably a B- at best. 

Personally, in usual circumstances, I like to insult in the B+ to A- range. That's a heavy, cutting, and affective range.  

Here's some advice: NEVER insault someone with a full A, and never, ever, ever even ATTEMPT an A+, the rest of your life you'll be known for nothing else. 'Hey look, it's Karl, the A+ insaulter, hey Karl!' And that's just a SMALL taste of the type of life your life will be destined to live. 

Advice 2: That's obviously only if your name is Karl. If your name is anything else, Karly, for example, you'll be fine 'Hey look, it's Karly, the A+ insulter' is fine life to live.

But back to my insult. It's probably worth noting, not that it's significant to its rating, but I will point out that this particular insult also it didn't make any fucking sense what so ever. This is obviously irrelevant, given the situation. And frankly I only raise it because some people, not as completely versed in the insult game as you and I, may feel this is important, when in fact it isn't at all. 

The point is, I'd been through an ordeal, I'd been slighted, I wanted payback, cause get this, this dick had just picked up a box of cereal at the grocery store, and this box of cereal was the EXACT SAME brand as I was considering buying! So now if I still wanted it I was going to look like a copycat, so that motherfucker didn't deserve ANY sense!! 

But he DID deserve at least a B+ insult. And I failed.  

So my next step was not just clear, but out of my hands really, I took a knife and applied it to his neck severing several key information distributing nerves. 

I thought it was an A- attack in the moment. But it turns out by 'redistributing' his regular distribution of nerves to his various nerve centers, I turned him into a mythological creature, and now he gets to spend his time hanging with badgers. 

I'm so jealous. 

Stupid cornflakes. 

Subsequent - a poem

Jonty carried a video camera everywhere he went. 

It captured the birthday where he  originally made its acquaintance.

His wife beaming at having chosen an instantly embraced gift. 

It was attached to his eye as he first saw the Grand Canyon.

His wife laughing at the sheer majesty of the chasm.

It was through the lens that he first saw his daughters surprisingly fuzzy head. 

His wife glowing at having brought life into the world.

And he of course was filming during two of the first three waves of alien attacks. 

Attack two was obviously a tad boring. 

It's a shame, the footage of his wife's head exploding from the laser attack could have been a hit at subsequent parties. 

We've all been there

It was a typical Thursday at noon.

I was at home going through celebrity gossip magazines, cutting the faces off celebrities, all while wailing 'oh you think you're better than me do you, with your fancy lives, glamorous lifestyles and creams made out of placenta and foreskin so you look more alive than most, well you're not better than me, cause you don't even have a face!'

We've all been there.

Suddenly a ghost appeared. 

The ghost of an earthworm. 

It was angelical, bathed in a light that seemed to have been delivered by a higher deity and yet simultaneously being emitted from within, and it was slimy and moist, I guess from doing sit-ups or something, I don't know, are worms always like that? Are ghosts? You see enough and you stop paying attention really. 

We've all been there. 

'Avvvvennnnggggee my deeeeaaathhhh' said the ghost worm, in a deep other worldly baritone. 

'Ah man' I replied, in a whiny shrill 'Not this again, can't you see I'm busy?'

'You look like you're wallowing in jealously and self-pity?' It said, with level of judgment even I could decipher, and I'm not usually good at deciphering judgement. I once thought I was dating a girl for three months before I realized she was just a street bum who thought my pants were too saggy. 

'Okaaaaay' I replied, with a moan that would make a teenager told to do his homework seem like someone who'd instead just been given free pie! The best type of pie. Except for of course way better pie that you paid for. You're never going to get good stuff for free you stupid brainless teenager, it's just not going to happen, but the good stuff is good! Suck it up and pay for it, you cheap bastards, 'how did you die?' I asked.

'Natural causes' it replied. 

'Natural causes? NATURAL CAUSES? Natural fucking causes?' I screamed with breaking voice and complaint so thick that it made the internet seem like a place where people talk about the things they LIKE about the world, 'WELL I CANT AVENGE FRICKIN' NATURE'

'You can TRY!!' Said the worm, disgusted at my can-not-do attitude, 'I'm a worm we only live six days (maybe?), you can't tell my head from my ass, and we're all hermaphrodites so there IS no PUSSY, Mother Nature fucked me'.

'Well I can't fuck Mother Nature, wait unless she's hot...' I said, with a wink, going for a laugh. And failing miserably. Fuck the dead and their lack of sense of humors.

'Well I can't do anything about that, I said', it was tough cause I normally like to help ghost worms, but this one was being a needy bitch, so I asked it 'is there anything else I can do?

'You could give me a proper burial?' It requested.

'Ha ha funny, now you have a sense of humor, when I say I joke I get nothing, but now it's ok for you to joke? You're  a ghost you dick, how do I bury you?'

And it said replied, get this 'mur mur MUR, MUR, MUR, MUR' I HATE when ghost worms say that to me. 

We've all been there. 

'Bury my body you dick' it finally said, after a long awkward pause while I was giving it my typical 'I can't believe you said "MUR" at me' face.

'Ok, fine, where is it?' I asked, surrendering. 

And it said 'where I died you idiot'.

And I said 'like I know where you died'.

And it said 'in my home'. 

And I said 'where's that? I didn't know you when you were alive, specifics for fuck sake!'

And it said, 'you know in the dirt, I'm a worm, we don't have addresses'.

And I said, 'hang on, hang on, are you fucking kidding me???? Your body is in the dirt, and you want me to bury you, you DIED buried!!!'

And it said 'so you're telling me, if you die underground in a coffin you don't want to be dug up and recoffined and reburied?' 

He had me there. That's exactly how I plan to die, and I DO want to be reburied. 

For the next six weeks I did little but look for the worms body. Digging holes, putting my ear to the ground listening for the well known tell-tale sounds of decomposing worm carcass, and asking everyone I met 'have you seen an under the dirt but not yet buried worm corpse anywhere?' 

It was a treacherous, and at times lonely search. Tragedy struck too, as during my digging three ants and a weird centipede looking thing were killed by the mighty blade of the soup spoon I was using to dig. 

But finally, finally, in the last place any sane person would look, in the pile of dirt down by the shed, I found it. I looked at it closely, dry, shriveled, none of the light and moisture of its ghost like self, and I realized the whole time I had been talking to the ghost I had never really looked right at it, and now that I looked at its corpse something that should always have been obvious seemed to spit right in my face, and I had to scream the scream of screaming screamer  'oh, you think your better than me, you don't even have a face!!!'

We've all been there.

Ps. It also took three tubs of foreskin cream to repair the skin damage from all that digging. Fuck you ghost worm. 

Screws and earthworms

It was a teddy bear party. 

The most awesome teddy bear party any of these eight close friends from way back had ever been to.

And they were real friends.

From way, way back.

Almost as far back as the part of the parking lot where the dumpsters would be.

Had they not been stolen by a gang needing a new clubhouse, despite membership being so down that a club house that could only hold two was both ample and sufficient. 

And there were no cars parked the the day they all met there that day.

So spatially speaking it seemed even further way back.

Clutter being a space minimizer.

And that's an area where even interior decorators with an amazing eye for ornate detail fuck up. 

And they'd been to a lot of teddy bear parties.

It was their thing.

Carefully developed over many years.

Until they were ready to spread their own rumors.

Rumors that were true.

That they played with teddy bears.

And these rumors spread like ants in an empty car park covered with bread crumbs after dumpster full of two day old bread was stolen spreading bread crumbs like solar energy discussion on a really bright, super hot, sunny day when the power is out, so air-conditioners aren't working, and someone has already raised the idea that it would be sweet to have an independent, self-sufficient, source of electricity so that one didn't have to rely on the often unreliable reliability of the normal power grid. 

Yet despite this being the best teddy bear party any of these close eight friends had been to, something was very different. 

Gimpy was sitting inhaling steam from a bowl of lemon and honey.

Merga was cutting out eyes from pictures in magazines.

Burps was eating antacids by the fistful and washing them down with ice-cream sodas.

Hails was sitting cross legged on the grass trying to summon out an earthworm. 

Jerf was fructifying a jar of old screws and nails.

Funt was writing down everything he knew about places named Arlington so he could remember later exactly what it was he needed to erase from his memory. 

Pog was working the grill, pleading for it to suck it up and just give him two more.

And 

Slitle was stuck in a spiral of barbwire.

So that was all a normal. Everyone was up to their usual teddy bear party activities.

So why did everyone feel something was off?

Then Funt noticed something.

And it landed upon him like a huge bucket of bricks, dropped from a crane, that was supposed to be grabbing and returning the clubhouse dumpster from the McGunner gang, but had fallen for the decoy barbecue pit and grabbed that instead. 

Merga was holding his teddy bear just like everyone else. 

But his was upside down.

He must have been an imposter all along.

And had now gotten comfortable enough to be complacent. 

Once the others had been nudged to look in his direction all hell broke loose.

They grabbed Merga by the collar and dragged him down to the parking lot where they had all met. 

Eyes from celebrities from magazines scattered into the wind. 

And Merga was left there.

Naked.

Crying.

And with his teddy bear forcibly sewed to his body.

The RIGHT was up.