Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Jim was a man once too

Jim was a man once too y’know. The authorities always tried to tell him otherwise, but just because he was always flagrant with his sexuality, it didn’t mean that he was any less of a person. He enjoyed shagging fit girls in the streets and in libraries and in churches, but it became too much for his home town of Lincoln, Nebraska to take so they punished him. They put him in chains and told him that he was an animal. When the town grew sufficiently to need a zoo, Jim became the star attraction. To bypass the laws of slavery, they gave Jim his own species (which he was allowed to name) of Jimulus Fuckulotus. But Jim was once a man too y’know, was what kept going through Sparkle’s head, so much so that when she took her daughter to the zoo she would tell her over and over, until Sweet P finally became old enough to ask why Jim had been imprisoned in this way. Sparkle explained that Jim had just been an over erotic boy (due to some soap he had washed with was the common tale) from New Zealand who was just too much for the town to take. But he was spectacular, Sparkle exclaimed, and if Sweet P asked any other girl of enough age, they would agree. So on her 18th birthday Sweet P broke into the zoo and into Jim’s cage to wake him. Jim was surprisingly youthful as the town had been feeding him youth drugs to keep people coming to the zoo. Sweet P reached down and grabbed Jim erotically and climbed on top of him. Jim’s instincts kicked in and he gave it to her good, but as he was so used to animal life, he ate her. The end.


Monday, April 25, 2005

Travelling without moving

So on Friday I received a text from a certain traveling friend of mine in Thailand. That in itself was pretty odd as I always thought people sending texts or calling you from other countries was pretty motherfucking expensive, but then I don't like the phone so know little of it's ways. Anyway, the text was one of the happiest that I have ever received, not especially because of what was specifically said, but because it brought up such happy connotations, but more importantly memories. You see she was on a beach, all fucked up, waiting for the motherfucking biggest party in the world to kick off listening to a classic tune that made her smile. Sounds happy already doesn't it? I bet you got a sly little motherfucker of a grin on your face right now. The reason it made me so happy though, was as well as having a very distant friend be brought all the more closer, she was also having a specific experience that I too once had. I've been to that beach. I've been all fucked up on it. I've waited for that party. The only difference is that my classic smiling tune was Creep by Radiohead so I got all paranoid, but still the essence is the same.

My point is, that isn't it weird that specific parts of your life are repeated in others. I mean I never believed that we're all as unique as snowflakes (which I don't fucking believe are unique by the way), but really? A memory of mine can be transplanted into someone else's head so easily? And blatantly not just one person's head either. Millions of fuckers can all think back to pretty much identical events. I supposed life just repeats itself through eternity. But then again I do spend a lot of time in bed, so many days seem the same.

Speaking of which, I was speaking to a young lady on this matter just the other day and I've noticed the oddest theme of anger running through every motherfucker I've ever met. There is something about sleeping in past midday on a regular basis which infuriates pretty much everyone who has to get up at 9am. It's not jealousy as most people initially assume, it's pure motherfucking rage. If you're on the angry side of the argument, think about it now. See, you're foaming at the lips aren't you. Those lazy bastards are the downfall of society, or some other generalised crap is what's running through your mind probably. But why? It's not like being in bed equates to being dead. It's not like there's only so much sleep to go round and us blessed one's are taking more than our fair share. Hmm. Well anyway, I'm tired so, sweet dreams, and I'll see ya

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Verbal Incontinence

I started a new job today. Audio typing radio programmes. Now isn't that an odd thing? It's like making brail versions of paintings. It just doesn't make sense.

Just like this whole voting thing. I got a letter today from some Liberal Democrat bitch. Her whole point seemed to be that if we didn't vote for her then the Conservatives would probably win. Now i don't know much about politics, but i like the sound of that. I don't like her using it as her only real platform though. I guess it's because the Liberal Democrats have promised so many things that she doesn't really know what to tell people she stands for. I got a postcard from them once which had specific roach card on the edge. Now that's good politics.

In other news i missed neighbours today. Now isn't that sad. I miss them when they're not around. They never miss me though. Heartless bastards. I'm not sure where i'm going with this. Best end on a happy note.

Don't look down. There's nothing there.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

The bear and the blind man

“I’ve been sober for a whole week” said the blind man to the bear, “and its not like I did it on purpose, these things just sometime happen of their own accord”.

The bear, who for arguments sake we’ll call Paws McPot or Jim for short wasn’t listening obviously. He had his own problems to deal with such as finding his way out of this circus or where he was gonna get his next picnic basket from. The blind man on his right had been rambling for hours about things which the bear would consider unimportant, but Jim stayed and listened anyway as it made a pleasant break from sticking his head in lion’s mouths or making like a ringmaster.

The blind man sighed and said “if it carries on like this then I may have to find a new career”.

For Jim this was the final straw. He put down the pot of honey and shook the man by both shoulders. “Look”, he said “there are drugs in the bearded ladies cage. Just stop harassing the clowns and she’ll give you some”.

Jim never liked giving advice, but sometimes enough was enough.


Tuesday, April 19, 2005

"Here's a pound son" "Uh...no it's alright, i'm not homeless"

Hey kids, my name's Justin, but you can call me Swane.

So today I was talking to an ex girlfriend of mine and she said that she had to do a charity run a coupla days after her birthday and that got me thinking. Aren't all sponsered events just a way of tricking people into giving to charity? I mean it's like going up to one of your friends and saying "hey man, there are fucking millions of people getting fucked up each year, so why not stop being such a selfish motherfucker and give them some spare change?" and your friend saying "well, why should I?" and you saying "well if you do then i'll do some stupid shit like run 10 miles or something". It's not exactly charity if you have to be conned into it is it? I know this sounds stupid, as of course sponsered events are a good idea, but isn't it fucking depressing that people don't just say "10 miles? fucking hell man i won't make you do that, here's £20, and i'll put another £20 in the post. 10 miles! You are one crazy motherfucker". Or something like that perhaps with less swearing if it's an old bastard you're talking to.

It's like when the big issue salesman asks if he can keep the magazine after you've just bought it off him and you feel like he's a skank. Why didn't you just give him the money to start with? It's not like there aren't a million other magazines for you to read for free out there. Making homeless people work for there money is pretty much the stupidest thing I've ever heard. How are they meant to get out of mad poverty if they have to work to survive within it.

Man, this is making me sound like some sorta hippy bitch. Well the thing is that I have been mistaken for a homeless person more than once so i sorta feel an afinity for down and outs. Like those poor motherfucking Millers in Eastenders. Or Homer's brother once Homer has bankrupted him. Thanks to him I'll never forget that discarded pizza boxes are an indispensable source of cheese.

I gotta go, it's beer o'clock