Flat Roads

Gerald was the type of guy who liked to take chances. 

'Chances' being what the neighborhood kids called the free condoms at the free clinic next to the expensive pizza place - 'Chances Italiano'.

'Chances' not being what Gerald would EVER take when it came to pregnancy. 

Not again.

Not since that stripper he'd banged had extorted tons of cash from him to pay for her abortion or else. 

He should have known better when he met her.

Her name WAS 'Chances' after all.

They weren't very diverse when it came to naming things in Gerald's town, Riskville. 

But it was a fun town to live in, and therefore a small price to pay.

As long as you didn't mind living near the local Nuclear Waste Dump, that was next to giant snake breeding facility, that was next to the 'Free All Caged Animals' activist headquarters, who had a share occupancy deal in their office building with the 'Society To Help All Activist Groups, And Also We Have Seven Flesh Eating Aliens Captured And Locked Up, But It Doesn't Feel Right To Us, We'll Probably Release Them Soon' group, with said building located right on top of the world's first volcano readying to erupt with billions of dead fish heads. 

Also the housing was cheap. 

Especially if you rented through one of the two local real-estate firms, 'Chances Reality' or 'Chances Houses'. 

Just don't go with the national chain 'First Roof'.

They MAKE you get insurance.

What a waste of money. 

Confounded Attack - A Poem

Stan was smacked in the head with a meteorite. 

But by the time it struck his temple it had disintegrated to barely the size of a grain of sand.

And left a mark barely red enough for people to think he had a pimple.

And it fetched a market rate of barely enough money to buy a hamburger, let alone retire on. 

Therefore despite his desperate prayer being answered to its exact request.

Stan still had no excuse to get out of work on stock take day.

And another of gods children was needlessly lost from the flock, storming off with an internal monologue of scorn and contempt.

Yet Peter down the hall, heading up Division Seventeen of prayer answering, STILL kept his job.

He really is a nice dude that God.

Way too fucking nice. 

While you were out

Expert Contestant: Gumption, halitosis, joulike, numstae, mirchewood, Slick, Xinphole, Glunky, Darnsimple, kwin, Steve, Twiddly, um, Lincostyne, Youltide, Wayne...

Host: Yes folks, that's fifteen, and therefore John takes the round! Congratulations. 

Coming up after the break, can our experts come up with even MORE names here on "Stupid Names For Awesome Things, Awesome Things Like Igloos Made Out Of Zebra Dreams, Paper Mache Newspapers With Stories Of Machete Attacks, and Other Awesome Things, and Stupid Names For Those Things, Names Like Parenthesis and Woostishere, and Other Stupid Names Like That" you bet they can, we think, based on history, at least FOUR more!

And now a message from our sponsors...

Commercial voice over with relevant imagery: Hello everyone, let's face it, the world can be a tough ride, and it leaves most of us feeling warn out and disheveled from time to time, and as someone who's been there also, well let me guess - you desire to soak your weary bones in a nice relaxing bath of urine? 

I knew it. 

However, if your significant other hears you moot this excellent plan, and in a show of bizarre apprehension, replies something the equivalent of - 'you want to bathe in urine? In OUR bath? In our home? The bath I use frequently? Sounds cool, go ahead, only one thing, I think you might be underestimating how much urine that'll take to fill it, want me to grab you a beer from the fridge?' 

Well then I think you're going to need to ask yourself the following questions:

1. Do I perhaps need to find myself a less negative and more supportive significant other? 

2. Is there somewhere ELSE I can bathe in almost pure urine without the horror of the ordeal of having to drink the six or seven beers required to make that much urine myself? 

3. Is that a pussy amount of beers for me to be describing it as a 'horror of an ordeal'?

4. Would that have been better phrased as a simply a 'horrible ordeal'?

5. Um, I feel like I should ask five questions, but I can't think of another one, is that ok? 

And the answer to all five of those questions is the same answer - 'YES'! And the solution to all of the issues raised is the same as well - 'why not try a public fountain!'.  

Public fountains are chock full of urine, from a variety of sources, so you can soak till you are as tender as a urinal cake, they make excellent attentive lovers, will never ever question your grammar or spelling, especially when you've gone for 'cool sounding' over technically correct, and are covered in graffiti, some of it posed as questions, so you'll never have to think of them yourself anymore! 

Yep - public fountains are swell, try one today! 

Please note: Opinions and observations in this ad are merely opinions and observations as opinioned and observed by the opinion and observation department put in charge of this ad, and you personally may find your local fountain to be to instead merely 'richly populated' with urine, at best 'wonderfully passionate' lovers, often 'rude and pretensions as all fuck' when it comes to your use of language, and covered in more statement oriented graffiti. But we think even in those far more dire sounding scenarios that a public fountain will easily improve your life in every way imaginable. 

This message was brought to you by 'The Society Public Fountain Proliferation', still dedicated to our now seven thousand three hundred and twelve year strong goal of making the world one huge public fountain, and still struggling to get even half way to that goal, and make sure that public fountains remain valuable, relevant and beloved in a world increasingly focused on water conservation instead of beautiful expressions of sculptured art with water, and homes instead of places people would drown if they tried to sleep. What the fuck is wrong with people? 

Host: Welcome back to "Stupid Names For Awesome Things, Awesome Things Like Igloos Made Out Of Zebra Dreams, Paper Mache Newspapers With Stories Of Machete Attacks, and Other Awesome Things, and Stupid Names For Those Things, Names Like Parenthesis and Woostishere, and Other Stupid Names Like That" Hope you enjoyed the break. 

Next in the hot seat is regular expert Kathy, are you ready: 

Kathy: Yes! 

Host: Your awesome thing is... A Hat Made From Hairs Blown Off A Lama With A Hairdryer That Was Crafted From Golf Ball Innards, can you come up with at least fifteen stupid names for something THAT awesome? 

Kathy: Unfortitan, Ourx, Onjki, Gurthink, Firedly, Constatine, wow I'm on a roll, I might break the mythical century here! Wait, Mythicanal, Centrumtank, Shelly, Brekni....

Pulsating Choices

Roger danced like a swan, swanning on like a swan that was swan dancing up a storm that would soon rain down with such swan like volume that said swan was destined to soon have new places to swim for a whole month, although so would swans other than this swan, who despite being swans who were just as swanny as this swan, and therefore capable of swan dancing up storms themselves, had left it to this original swan to do all the work, and yet were more than happy to enjoy the rewards, with barely a hint of gratitude, which is why Roger was now swanning on like a swan that was swan dancing up a storm so intense that these other swans that had failed to swan dance themselves, would soon be swan lightninged to a crisp!  

Stephanie, watched on, mouth agape, now becoming concerned, forlorned and disenchanted, as she was beginning to wonder if this holistic healer was not going to cure her husbands recent decapitation after all. And she was going to have to, reluctantly, abandon her hippy ideals and accept the help of regular modern medicine. 

Although, really, how numb skulled and damn stupid can someone be, how utterly and completely devoid of basic common sense? I mean what kind of idiot goes to an Holistic Dance Surgeon named 'Roger'? 

On top - a poem

Tilley was looking at a bird. 

He was jealous of birds. 

After six leg breaks, two snapped cruciate knee ligaments, three rotted out fibulas (one of the replacements rotted too), and worst of all one nasty ingrown toenail, all over the course of four painful years, the thought of flying seemed like a dream.

Also he was jealous of their feathers, they reminded him of tickling, tee he he.

But the flying was the real desire. 

A wish he'd wished for at every wishing well he'd seen since before he even noticed the developing second rot. 

And now. 

As he looked at this bird.

With his desire bubbling like a wishing well being boiled from a volcano below it (ultimately melting all those coins, what a waste. Who the hell digs a wishing well without first getting a full geological study done?). 

This wish miraculously came true. 

He could suddenly fly like an eagle, that had eaten an angel, that had been conceived in the jet-stream of bee. 

'Wow, ace' he thought as he soured over a majestic river leading to a beautiful deserted beach, 'this is going to make it easier to get to the Cathedral every afternoon to tell God off for never, ever, ever, EVER letting anything good happen to me, WAY easier' he thought. 

'Suck on that God, you cunt!' He screamed as he watched a pod of orcas swim by a previously undiscovered reef which was so vibrant it made the Great Barrier look like squished cockroach. 

Meanwhile the wife of the dead guy who'd provided him with two fresh, and one flawless, fibulas sat at home forlorn while STILL awaiting her thank-you card. 

She was soon giggling though.

Her new beau was ticking her with a feather. 

He'd just plucked it from her pet bird which had just died. 

But she didn't know that yet, so our ending remains cheerful.

Cheerful as a bee sitting proud on-top a bronzed eagle sculpted from melted coins, with a smile on its face, as it watches his bee mate sucking pollen from flowers, totally unaware that two angels are fornicating in its wake. 

Awww. 

Send Your Stupidity To The Grave With Dave

Hi Kids, how are you today. My name is "Dave The Stupidity Grave", and I have been invited to come to talk to you here at your school assembly today, to teach you another way to stop you looking stupid all the freakin’ time.

Doesn’t that sound like fun? Let me hear you all scream yaaaaayyyyyy.

‘YYYYAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY’

Awwww, thanks kids.

Now here is a fact kids, from time to time, depending on where you live, especially if you live stupid places like England, where this happens all the time, and irrelevant of whether you deserve it or not (and let’s face it most of you DO deserve it, I’ve seen where your gross dirty little fingers have been) something remarkably horrible happens in the world! OOoohooohhhhh.

‘What is it?’

I hear you ask. Well shut up, I’m getting to that. Obviously. Why would I be invited to come talk to you and not be planning on getting to the thing that I was brought in to talk about? Stop looking like such idiots kids.

Yep, that’s right. The remarkable thing is that sometimes water can fall from the sky, something adults call “rains” or “raining” or “sky wee-wee”!!!!

‘Oh noooooo!’

I hear you all exclaim. And that’s a SMART thing to exclaim, good for you, you’re already, wait for it, sending STUPIDITY TO THE GRAVE WITH DAVE. Yell it out.

‘STUPIDITY TO THE GRAVE WITH DAVE!!!’

Well you were actually supposed to say, “we’re sending stupidity to the grave with Dave”, but that’s ok, you can’t be completely devoid of foolhardiness yet, you are only dumb little kids after-all. Here’s another chance to look at least capable of grasping a simple fact and the reality of the consequences of that fact, all together yell out, what happens when it rains?

‘We get completely drenched in wet stuff, which soaks into our hair, clothes, and the sandwich we were eating, and then when we eventually go inside people look at us like we are completely frickin’ stupid, and say things to us like “oh is it raining outside”, or “someone forget to bring a raincoat”, or even “let me guess, it’s raining and you didn’t bring an umbrella, I have a sixth sense about these things” and it makes us want to punch them in the fucking throats, I mean obviously you dicks, and it makes us mad, and sad for how lame and cliché most people are, and feel like we are being treated like stupid doody heads!’

Yes, well done kids. You’re right. Well, I wouldn’t have said “wet stuff”, its actually called “water”, you morons, but other than that all four hundred and twenty seven of you were one hundred percent correct. And no one likes being called stupid do they?

‘Nooooooooooo’.

Correct! It’s rude, it’s derivative, it’s unhelpful, and it’s mean, and I don’t want you kids to EVER feel like someone is treating you that way, especially by an adult who should know better, and who should be helping kids improve their self-esteem, and their self-confidence, because children are the future, and if you “believe” that you are little morons, what hope do you have of growing up to be intelligent, dignified, and poised adults who make the communities they live in better places to be for all who occupy the same environment?

‘Almost none at all, in fact, it’s these repeated patterns of failure and ineptitude, which hold back communities, societies, nations and even the globe itself’.

Exactly kids.

So what if I told you, that next time you get caught in the rain, and end up with “water” all over you, that you no longer have to face the inevitable judgment which comes attached like the carriages on a train?

‘We don’t believe it, there is nothing that could stop that, it is our lot in life, a reality we face every time the clouds swell with darkness above us, like a three legged dog, a fourth limb shall never grow, the best we can do it try to carve out some form of satisfactory existence that lives concurrently with our pain!’

Oh kids. You dumb little idiots. There IS a solution.

‘There is? There IS! Tell us!!! Please fucking tell us!’

My god, didn’t we go over this already? I am Dave the Stupidity Grave, I wasn’t fucking invited to your assembly to NOT give the solutions. Have some freakin’ patience. Man, you’re parents must fucking HATE you.

Ok, ok, I’ll tell you.

Here goes…

When you get caught in a rainstorm…

‘Yes, yes, yes’

You get wet…

‘Yes we do, very wet’

But what you can do with this wetness is…

‘Tell us, please!!!’

Is DRY it off!

‘No WAY! That’s impossible!’

No it’s not, it’s imimpossible!

‘That’s not a real word!’

Yeah I know, it just kind of came out of my mouth without thought, but seriously, no one likes to be told when they’ve made a mistake kids, whoever taught you that should be shot, was it your parents? Let’s shoot them in the face. But still, it IS possible!

‘But how?’

Now you’re asking the smart questions. There are in fact, and this will shock you, FOUR different ways you can get dry.

‘FOUR!!!!’

Yep four. And because I am a nice guy, and because I am being paid handsomely for this, I am going to tell you ALL FOUR.

‘Yaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy!!!’

Once you are saturated with rain “water” you may simply do one of the following:

Number One: This one’s easy. I call it the “forget you can’t see curtains” method. Humbly knock on the house of a stranger, or even a friend. Ask to come inside. If they say “no” kick them in the shins and go inside anyway. Now try and spot somewhere that has a window, a fun tip is to look for where light that doesn’t feel electric seems to be coming from. Obviously this doesn’t work at night, but that’s ok, it rarely rains at night. Now ask if you can “look out the window”. If they say “no” kick them in the shins and go towards the window anyway. Now rub your wetness all over the curtains while pretending that you can’t see them, and don’t even know what a curtain is. Adding dialogue like “why can’t I see out the window, there is literally nothing in front of it, nothing at all, so this must be some sort of conspiracy. What are you motherfuckers playing at” will help sell your story. Once you’ve rubbed all your water all over the curtains now ask them to fix you some food. If the food they make looks gross, kick them in the shins and run away.

Number Two: This one’s tranquil. I call it the “fun ride”. Simply head to an amusement park on ‘we think it may be someone’s birthday today day’. Hope like fuck that they thought correct. Spot the birthday kid. Push him to the ground and steal his bouquet of balloons. Hold them close to you and pull out your knife and start popping them one by one letting the exploding air dry you to the bone. Once you are dry go on a few rides. I bet they’ll be fun! Please note, the other side of the balloons you’re stabbing may be your hand, if you stab your hand and it bleeds, just rub it off on the birthday kids shirt, he won’t care, he’s getting presents. You’re not, why should he get them but not you? It’s a fucking conspiracy.

Number Three: This one’s exciting. I call this one “it smells good too”. Overtly take off all your clothes. Grab a lighter. And light your chest hair on fire. Let it burn until the searing hairs dry you off!

Number Four: This one’s a little strange. Well okay, a LOT strange. I call this one “do it if you have to, but don’t tell anyone you did, you’re trying to stop them saying annoying things to you, making fun of you, and thinking you’re stupid, so looking strange instead is NOT going to help”. Grab an item called a “towel” and rub, or “towel” your wetness with said “towel”. If you’re still wet then “towel” more. If someone catches you and says “what you doing, toweling or something” kick them in the shins and run away yelling “it’s a conspiracy god damn it!”

That’s right kids, master any of these things, and you don’t have to worry about rainstorms ANYMORE!

‘Wow, wow, wow, wow, yaayyy, wow, you’ve finally made our futures seem positive, thanks Dave, thanks SOOOOO much!’

Awww, no, thank YOU kids. By which I mean fucking say what you’re supposed to say.

‘Thanks to Dave, we’ve sent our stupidly TO THE GRAVE!!!’

Yaaaaay. Well that’s it for me kids. But I will be back. Next assembly I’ve got something very exciting for you kids. What do you do with your knee scabs?

‘Pick em and eat em, obviously’.

Ahhh, you idiotic little fools, there’s at least ONE other option, and when I come back I am going to… Send that Stupidity To The Grave, with DAVE!

‘Yaaaaaaayyyy’.

Friendship - A Poem

Friendship - a poem 

Diamonds are a girl's best friend

They'll last with her till the very end

Dogs are a man's best friend 

For true love, they can rely on them

And a dog that eats a diamond 

Is a surgical veterinarian... 's best friend

The bill for removing that stone will be so damn huge the vet will probably be able to buy a big ass boat or something! 

Oft forgotten benefits of walking

Oft forgotten benefits of walking

I'm out on a long walk as I write this. Which makes sense because I'm a frequent walker. A big walker even. So much so that sometimes when people see me they say stuff like 'check it out, Dave's walking, we should call him a "walker", ha ha, check out how clever we are', and then the bar manager who has overheard this gets the bouncer to literally fling them to the pavement yelling 'we don't fucking let people claim to be clever in here who in fact are NOT at all clever, EVER, how fucking dare you soil my establishment with those lies!' And then the bar manager will go 'hey, hey, hey, "your" establishment? Um hello, hello, answer the phone, hello, it's MY fucking establishment', and then a curious onlooker would pipe up and say 'um, I hate to be a dirty eavesdropper, I mean apart from anything, have you heard how goddamn boring most of what people say is? Just try listening in to people for a while, you'll start to think your average human should be dumped in a sewer, you know, just to give them a pithy "have you heard my sewer story yet? No? Get THIS, someone DUMPED me in one!" story to tell, but having overheard the exchanges taking place over there, I got to say, I feel like the bouncer was only repeating something you'd told him to say, and his use of "my" reflected, if anything, a FLAWLESS rendition of your intent, plus, um, hello, your using "hello" THIS year? Who the fuck are you to also admonish someone else's lack of cleverness?' Which then leads his wife to think 'that's it, I said if he stuck his nose into someone else's business one more time I'd fuck his best friend, damn it I wish his best friend wasn't the President of The United Legion of Chaos, he did say to the media last week that if he didn't get laid by the end of the month he'd disband the group, but if he did het laid he'd facilitate anarchy world-wide by the end of the decade, now it's going to end up being hard to find a good masseuse on short notice, who wants to live in a world like that?' 

Yep. That's right. Are your shoulder muscles slightly tight right now? Do you have zero credit card bills that your wife is going to seriously question? Does the Thai place down the road do nothing but serve delicious food? Well that's only true because of MY walking! 

So let's talk about walking. 

Other than fitness, respect of peers, firm buttocks, great hair, free donuts, a heightened sense of sensing which people near you claim with annoying arrogance to have a sixth sense of some sort, and access to street garbage, there are also benefits of walking that we do NOT think about every single time we walk anywhere, whether it be from to Santiago and back, or to gingerly walking to the lavatory trying not to let our housemates know some of last nights 'is this still alright to eat?' left over pigeon tongue soup has already breached its protection clench and is rapidly filling our britches. 

Yep, I'm talking the oft forgotten benifits of walking, here are my favorite twenty: 

1. It's a great way to figure out if that dream you had last year where you lost your foot to a lions mouth was real or just a dream. 

2. How else are you going to find out if that stuck up, pretentious, manikin in front of the bikini store down the road still has an attitude problem? Would it fucking hurt to smile occasionally? There's oft forgotten benifits in smiling too you arrogant fool! 

3. So you are somewhere. But somewhere else seems like it might be a better somewhere. You could use 'walking' to get to 'walk' over to the host of where you are and tell them off for throwing a shit thing. 

4. Only walkers have EVER won a gold medal in walking at the olympics, suck on that fish! (Not sucker fish, we all know they have a monopoly on winning the sucking golds, AND the algae eating golds, save some for us you selfish dicks!) 

5. Got someone who calls you their 'pal'? They always want to hear your stories walking. What kind of a shit pal are you if you don't come through? 

6. Struggle to spell he word 'car'? Well your texts to friends about how you're getting to their homes need not be a pathetic embarrassment with wallkying. 

7. You'll finally have an excuse to wear shoes, which can save you thousands on private feet washers. 

8. Not one character in the whole of Shakespeare took an automobile anywhere, are you saying you're better than Capernikis in Midnight on the Glen? Fuck you! That guy unified FOUR counties in Western Wales with his beautiful lyrical speeches, FOUR! I bet YOU'VE barely unified three counties! 

9. Sometimes when out walking you can see a bird. It'll finally give you something to talk to your pet bird about. 

10. You occasionally get to walk past someone who's been flung to the pavement. 

11. It's a good way to get places.

12. Especially places said to be 'accessible by foot'. 

13. And ESPECIALLY when your foot is at the mechanics needing a new fan-belt. 

14. Are fan-belts still a thing?

15. Seems like all the best movies in the 80s included busted fan-belts, like Top-gun, Ghostbusters, Aliens, Ben Hur, and who can forget when the busted fan-belt sunk blew up the original Death Star. But you never see it anymore. 

16. Ah fuck, I bet all the modern feet have 'air-conditioning' instead of belts now.

17. For shame. 

18. Walking is like giving a massage to the earth. Oh, you're going to complain about the The United Union of Chaos making it so it's hard to get a quality masseuse for you at short notice, but you won't give the earth a massage? 

19. For shame. 

20. It's a great way to find out if the last time someone called you 'shameless' they actually meant to call you 'footless'. 

Yep, walking it makes you thiner, it makes you a better walker, it makes it  so the next time a crow tries to eat your eye you'll know the secret code to get them to eat your neighbors eye instead, if it was a flavor it would be 'lightening coming out of a volcano in a snow storm behind a Korean barbecue restaurant', it comes is seven convenient sizes, and is guaranteed to be stain free till 2017 or your money back, yep, there are many ways which walking is great that we all think about daily, but there are also oft forgotten ones, what are some of your favorites? 

What you voted for

Jeremy, an electrician from Watford England, was making sweet passionate love to the square segment of pavement on Hammersmith Rd, three pavement squares down from where someone named ‘Bruno’ had previously carved his name in the wet cement.

Don’t get me wrong.

Jeremy was making love to the cement.

But he wasn’t actually in love with it.

You see moments before he had tripped on an exposed tree root and fallen down.

And so obviously he had immediately scrambled for some form of an excuse as to suggest that he had WANTED to be down there all along.

I mean he didn’t want to look like some sort of fool!

Did he?

And fortunately for him his cover was completely bought by all that saw.

Including Mr Johan in 7b, who claimed he wasn’t watching, but in reality was ALWAYS watching!

Still, while Jeremy may not have been in love when he began, feelings did start to emerge during.

And over the next few weeks, before the root had been cleared, a genuine love developed.

It would have been sweet, and romantic, and beautiful.

Had the kissing not completely crunched, scraped, chipped and ultimately annihilated his teeth.

Still, it worked out well for his dentist.

A man named Bruno.

In fact that tree root had turned out to engender a better client windfall than the entirety of his last advertising campaign.

Which had unexpectedly and mockingly yielded far more council fines than clients.

Fucking council bureaucrat pieces of shit.

Everything is capable of more than we think

Another completely positive message from Dave and the team here at Fleeting Forever: 

I think of all things capable of being described as 'most foul' my favorites are: 

- Murder. 

- A baby half-horse and half-ferret. Or more specifically the most 'foal' looking baby out of a litter of offspring born to a horse father and a ferret mother, that looks the most like a baby horse, and least like a baby ferret, out of the entire litter. So much so (and in the absence of uniformly accepted label for this new and rare species of animal) that the owner of the horse, the ferret, and now the youngsters, is really, really tempted to pass this one, if not the whole litter, off as a full 'foal', but can't bring himself to be such a filthy liar, so calls them 'foul' instead, which ultimately may prove to be confusing, but at least keeps his conscious clear, and completely coincidently allows its inclusion in this list without me coming across as some form of fucking idiot who doesn't know the difference between foul and foal. 

- Something gross. 

Yep 'most foul' great term, even greater variety of uses. But I bet before you read this that you didn't even realize most foul could also be a term for things such as 'something gross'. Yep, everything is more capable than you think it is. 

So next time there is a disgusting foul stain on your bedroom wall, don't think 'I'm not CAPABLE of cleaning that', because you may well be capable. And also instead of spending that time self-doubting, you could be using it for something positive, such as wondering just how a baby half-horse and half-ferret ended up imbedded into the fabrics of your wallpaper, or even who on earth would let their horse fuck their ferret? 

This has been another completely positive message from Dave and the team here at Fleeting Forever. Happy days everyone! 

A human part of being human

Yesterday, in what turned out to be a revolutionary piece of writing, I did something that only happens perhaps once a decade or so. 

Yes that's right, I came up with a theory, and then, and this is what separates me from 99.99% of theory generators, I ALSO came up with a bunch of things that SUPPORTED that theory. 

The theory was as follows: 

'Every human is different'

The support of this theory was:

'Seems like different humans have differences sometimes'. 

Yep, it was a blog that rocked the Internet, and generated a fierce avalanche of calmly presented, and uniformly justified consensus of opinion. Something I'm quite proud of to be honest. It's nice to make the entire world come together like clones from the same piece of beige cloth over something like this. 

But then I woke up today and something occurred to me, a new contradictory theory, and what was even worse, this one came carrying a dainty leather shoulder bag filled with an EXAMPLE of the existence of a theory proving example that exists as a case study to demonstrate existence of truthfulness. 

The theory: 

'Ah yeah, but in some ways every human is the same'! 

The example: 

All of us, at least occasionally, will wake up in the morning feeling a tad off. We’ll suddenly sit up from bed and go... 

‘Oh shit, that heaven I was just in with all the flying laser knives, was merely a dream. THIS is reality. And I am NOT who I thought I was. Oh my god, I am remembering, I am actually named Sally Anderson-Hamersmith Jones, and I am a fairy penguin living in some harbor, and oh no, I am suffering from a "deep heated thermal underwear malaise" which in penguin societies is what we call it when we first see ourselves in a mirror, and to our horror, discover that we look exactly like all the other penguins and not at like the home made bookshelf made of cinder blocks and stolen timber that we had previously thought we were. No, no, now no one will EVER put a book on me, OR get a splinter made of part of me! NOOOOOOOOOO!!! Those were my life long goals. Also why did my parents hyphenate my middle name, fucking assholes, it always causes such confusion during roll calls in class. And as a school kid I'm already dealing with enough fucking confusion. I'm growing hair EVERWHERE, but it feels like penguin feather for some reason? Fucktards!' 

Yep, we've all been there. Countless times. And we all know what follows. We drop into a fit of rage. We rip the posters of our favorite business leaders off our walls. We break every 'filthy lying' mirror. We ponder why filth and untruths were ever considered natural partners. We attempt to fly off our balconies, and when we land on the ground to bone shattering falls we say 'yep, can't fly, so I AM a penguin'. We peck at our refrigerators trying to get fresh fish, but by the time we've pecked holes through the doors we discover all the fish to now be dead. We try to solve our malaise by maiming and scarring all the other penguins in our homes, and even though it does make us feel like more of an individual, it does not get books dumped on our faces, or have splinters shoot from our hearts, so we lash out and email our orca friends about the location of some delicious looking prey. And then we realize WE could get mixed up as that prey and we email them back saying that our accounts have been hacked, but they don't really believe us, yet they do order three pairs of Oakley sunglasses from us, which pisses us off even more because we've all sworn to never support that company again ever since they got heavily into the spam game. And then we think, mmmm spam, they eat that in Hawaii, due to it once being a staple among soldiers stationed there, which then caught on around the island, and we fantasize back to the time we saw that hula girl there who could spit pork meat and ignore our requests for their autograph by saying 'oh, I think I hear my volcano going off, I better get that' at which point it hits us, 'wait, penguins don't grow on trees in the northern hemisphere, penguins only grow on trees in the Southern Hemisphere, oh man, did I wake up on the wrong side of the bed again, and put on my black and white robe, and then just sort of run with it?' And we answer 'yes' to ourselves. Snap our broken legs back in place, and get on with our days. 

Yep, every human is different, but some experiences, as above, are universal. And that means all of us must suffer at least occasionally. But we suffer together. 

Still, suffer resistance is key. Which is why I also did something today that happens maybe once every dozen years or so, I noticed a problem, and here is what separates me from 99.99% of problem noticers and gets revolutionary, I also came up with a SOLUTION to the problem. Which is as follows:

Next time you find yourself down this spiral of perfectly normal and rational, yet time wasting distraction, simply do the following six things:

1. Take several deep breaths.

2. Breath deeply a few times. 

3. Inhale then exhale some large volumes of air. 

4. Invite six of your best talking Bamboo Plant friends to visit you, and then open a debate on whether pandaphobia should continue to be routinely treated with talk therapy and/ or medicated with pharmaceuticals in Spring Onion communities, given it being an irrational fear for them, or whether the fact that it's irrational in itself highlights the need to direct those funds to fighting pandaphobia even harder in Bamboo societies, despite for them it being a logical fear that warrants not numbing but perhaps even heightening, if it may possibly lead to more escapes. 

5. Realize that you've been so busy ripping the throats out of the selfish motherfucking Bamboo plants and their insistence on unloading arguments completely lacking in compassion for the poor Spring Onion societies, who frankly already have to deal with being most people's third or forth favorite type of onion at best, let alone now being told that their phycosomaytic issues shouldn't even be acknowledged. And as you make murderous war screams you'll suddenly realize 'wow, I forgot all about thinking I was a penguin, PLUS all my posters of my favorite business men are INTACT, thankyou David, your solution has saved me from doing anything abnormal today, and I can continue being a perfectly normal person'. 

6. Breathe numerous times in a deep manner. 

And boom, your day will be saved. 

So I hope that makes everyone feel a little better about themselves. Yep we ARE all different. But yep, we are also all the same. And if you ask me that's beautiful. Maybe even as beautiful as an orca munching up a living room full of injured penguins, while the TV shows pork spewing out the mouth of a hula girl! Awww. 

A very human discovery

I've been thinking a lot about humans today. Which is rare for me, I normally prefer to think about different ways to create a practical yet historic looking faux cobble stone, to use on streets in theme parks set in the future with a section dedicated to how people in the future may choose to remember the past. You know, because brain time is valuable, and it should be treated as such. 

But today I decided to value the oft forgotten value in taking a valuable break from routine, and as such humans came to mind. And ten or twenty hours into this thought something remarkable happened, I came to a powerful, strong, spicy, pungent, wafting, thick delicious smog of a theory, which is this…

Every human is different!

Seriously! 

As in not the same.

Now I know that’s bold, possibly even really bold, but I'm going to go even further, I think that in fact, I'd almost be willing to say that this is a even a fact (or a truth, right, smart, logic, lie, statement - different people say it different, fucking assholes, can't we just agree on fucking something?) and if you ask me this is one of the best things about being human.

Consider this list of 11 different ways humans, at least in certain circumstances, can be different from each other: 

1. Opinions on stuff and even on shit. For example some people have different opinions on what makes up stuff and what makes up shit.

2. Appearance. There are actually at least FOUR different options on how you may look, you may be 1. Good looking 2. Good lookin' 3. Looking good. And 4. Uglier than sin in a blender. (Please note while number four may seem undesirable, it is way easier to drink than the other three).

3. Idiosyncrasies. For example some people may have a weird thing where they can spell 'idiosyncrasies' close enough for spell check to finish it off within their first 40 attempts.

4. Choice in dangerous hobbies. One of my personal ones is it to go up to people in street fights and say 'your hobby is moronic, you pussy fuck'.

5. The Smurf we'd most like to have live in our nasal cavities. Mine is Sneezy Smurf, because then people would be constantly hearing sneezing come from my nose and saying 'bless you' and then I'd get to say 'I DIDN'T sneeze, why does everyone keep accusing me of that, you fucking assholes'.

6. Reasons for the last time we were sued. My personal one was when I was sued by Disney for suggesting Sneezy was a Smurf rather than a Dwarf, when we all know he's ACTUALLY a Muppet that's been doused in liter-fluid and is being threatened with a match.

7. Favorite hot salsa dips for our chocolate-chip cookies. My preference is usually warm caramel hot salsa dip, and the nacho-cheese corn-chip variety of chocolate-chip cookie.

8. Methods for checking our hair in the windows of parked cars without being embarrassingly caught. I go with just looking at my hair in my peripheral vision while pretending I'm actually simply adjusting my penis bulge.

9. Ways of passive-aggressively warring with people who think we still consider them friends. I like breaking into their homes, then taking things with used-by-dates out of the fridge for twenty minutes or so, then putting them back exactly where they were, then a year or two later when they casually say in conversation 'I think I need a new fridge, mine doesn't seem to keep stuff fresh the way it used to' I can reply 'or maybe you're just a fucking dickhead you fucktard!'

10. Current torso coverage. There are at least four options here too 1. Nothing. 2. Something. 3. Something that's so scarce it may as well be nothing. And 4. Oh for crying out loud, I'm home alone, what does it matter what I fucking am or fucking am not wearing.

11. Um, nope, I thought there were eleven, but I think that was all of them.

Yep, I have a theory, every human is different! But I'm starting to think it's more than a theory, it may even be genuine simple fact. 

So next time you are say, on the internet, and looking through the facebooks or through say comments following an opinion piece written about a matter of social politics, and you think to yourself ‘damn it, it feels like literally everyone has the exact same opinion as me, justified in the exact same way and with the exact same level of serene calmness’ I want you to remember, while this is almost always the case in those scenarios, some of those people who are so called ‘the same’ as you, don’t even know how to check their hair in a strangers car window without the safety of knowing that the only comment anyone will say about said hair is ‘can’t you animals keep your hands off your dick for five fucking minutes’. 

Yep, we’re all different. And if you ask me that’s great.

It's another cheap, super fun, completely flawless, and guaranteed to be life changing practical joke recommendation!

Today's cheap, super fun, completely flawless and guaranteed to be life changing practical joke suggestion comes in eight easy steps, each one easier, more fun, and as epically sidesplitting with hilarity as the next.

Step one: Find a shopping center or village that promises somewhere between seventeen and twenty-three specialty stores, like this one:

Step two: Break into said center overnight (or during the day if you are a trained ninja) and change one of those 'specialty' stores into a 'general' store.

Step three: Sit back, relax, maybe grab a coffee or a cocktail, and just watch as the complaints department gets utterly overrun with grievances, moans, protests and even whines, regarding this newfound and woefully unsignposted, unadvertised and unasked for convenience and variety!

Step four: Visit the afterlife after you've laughed so much and so hard that your heart has been rendered a mere shell of its former self, (shells of course making a poor substitute for blood pumpers, just ask crabs with blood lust).

Step five: Hope one of the 'specialty' stores is a defibrillator store, and their staff aren't lazy and inattentive.

Step six: Think 'oh fuck', was it the defibrillator store I changed to a general store?

Step seven: End up on the bad side of the after-life after swearing one time too many.

Step eight: Use your ninja skills to get by on this side just fine, possibly even thrive.

Please note: If you are not a trained ninja then probably don’t risk flipping the defibrillator store into the general store, maybe go with the knife store, or perhaps the gun store.

Please note 2: Probably do not risk changing a knife or gun store into a general store unless you are a trained ninja, I’ve heard a nasty rumor that most of those store owners are not lazy and are vigilantly attentive, and some of them even have access to weapons!

Please note 3: Probably hope one of these specialty stores is a facial reconstructive plastic surgery office that you can now pay vast amounts of money to repair the damage done during your last conversation with a crab rabid with blood lust.  

It's the practical joke that's cheap, super fun, completely flawless and guaranteed to be life changing! And its endlessly fun for the whole family! Try it today.