The telephone ring cut through the cacophony of noise emanating from Thing One in the front room. “NnnneeeerrrR… DOOF DOOF DOOF DOOF… NnnneeeerrrR…”
“Keep it down, Loob,” I implored politely of my child and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Have you looked out the window?” Thoughtful demanded by way of greeting. I hadn’t – it’s December and dark already; I hadn’t seen the point. Fortunately I didn’t need to. “Fucking fog!” he informed me.
I went to look anyway. A dense wall of white was revealed as I peeked through the blinds. “Jesus! That’s thick!” I confirmed into the receiver. “Who the hell would want to go out in this weather on New Year’s Eve Eve?”
“Not me,” Thoughtful Man said with the crackled sigh.
“Deadly! Deadly! Three O’Clock! NnnneeeerrrR… DOOF DOOF DOOF-”
“Loopy! Kindly shut the fuck up. I am on the phone!” I was sharper than I could have been but if I’d heard him call Deadly’s name once already, I’d heard it several dozen times. And I really didn’t need to hear it again at that precise moment. “How long you gonna stay out in this?” I asked Thoughtful Man tentatively.
I glanced at the TV screen showing smokey Battlefront skies as Loopy, now silent, zoomed through them, shooting at other WW1 airplanes…
*Oh is that what it sounds like? Thanks, Click. I usually only hear Looby’s voice…*
*Yeah he can have a problem with his volume control… Now stop interrupting… Where did I get to? Oh yeah, Thoughtful Man…*
“As long as I have to. I dunno, I’ll play it by ear, ” Thoughtful Man replied.
*Huh? He is not full of constant sorrow, Clicky… Okay, sometimes… mostly Fridays… /frowns… What day is it today?*
*Shit!*
“Well, come home if it gets any worse,” I cooed down the receiver. “There’s no point you sitting around freezing your bollocks off, waiting for non-existent customers.”
Thoughtful Man huffed. “I’ll see how it goes. I’ll ring you later. Bye.”
“Okay then, bye. I love you,” I answered but he’d already rung off. I took one last look out the window, then turned back toward Thing One and ruffled his thick blonde locks. “Alright arseache, I’m off the phone now. Carry on.”
I returned to my Library couch to continue perusing the news.
*Ah…*
The United States Department of State gained the metonym “Foggy Bottom” when it moved its headquarters to the nearby Harry S Truman Building in 1947.
*Just think. There’s going to be ‘Trump’s ‘Foggy Bottom’, Clicky… /squints… Song to end?*
Come on, hands up if you were not entirely shocked by the passing of Debbie Reynolds, so soon after the death of her daughter, Princess Layers… */raises hand…*
Thoughtful Man’s first words upon hearing the news were “Poor Todd“. That he remembered the name of Debbie Reynold’s son and Carrie Fisher’s brother is entirely down to his fondness of a certain type of US TV show…
*Clicky! No one is gonna get that reference other than Thoughtful Man… /thinks… although…*
Below, is another missive from Cade Fon Apollyon, Okie Devil chum, from Texas… He seems to have had a close encounter of his own with the Mothership… */oculi dilatanda…*
*******
Don’t worry baby. I can’t see my fries either. Of course, my view is obscured from my huge fat gut. And I’ve always heard that things do not grow well in the shade. But I’m also ugly, so…meh. Why bother.
^No Mana – Nine^
I thought I would start off my daily thinking/writing session by attempting to do something clever in this particular writing. Something like…not speaking at all in this writing.
I mean, there will be writing, and there will be speaking of sorts, but it will not be me who is doing any of the speaking.
I will be writing of course, and I like to think that I do some thinking, but I guess that’s the problem right there, eh?
Just like always with me…a problem presents itself, and suddenly…there is the answer. I only THINK that I am thinking.
So why not take it to the next level, and stop speaking as well.
I guess that means that the next step beyond THAT…will be not typing.
Another great idea brought to a swift and rapid conclusion through sheer boredom and lack of creativity. I’M FIRED!!!
I just fired myself.
I WOULDN’T WORK IN THIS SHITHOLE IF YOU PAID ME!!!
YEAH? ME NEITHER!!!
I QUIT!!!
^Dom Kane – Borg^
I decided to give myself a second chance, under the conditions that I take a HUGE increase in pay, a company dirigible, I wear a t-shirt with company logo on it daily, and I start to shower at least once every week or so…or at least cover myself in chemicals to make myself not smell so fucking rotten.
I sorta quasi-begrudgingly agreed on the conditions that all of these rules are subject to change, modification, retraction, redaction or suddenly forgotten about by accidentally dropping all agreements into a toxic paper shredder that is on fire. Although, I ain’t gonna be the one getting near that damn thing.
OK, OK…I’ll do it. I swear, I have to do EVERYTHING around here.
A coupla hours ago, I was talking to someone on the phone, and they accused me of being “flippantly naive.” So after looking up both of those words on Google, to ensure the meaning(s) of those two words, and some serious brain-searching as to the meaning of those two words together, and some serious soul-searching as to the meaning of those two words together in reference to me…um…
WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!
I’m disrespecting my own stupid? Jesus H. Mother Fucking Christ a hoppin’ on a pogo stick…I’ve reached a new low (lol).
^Far Too Loud, Beardyman & JFB – Not A Real Thing^
The topic under discussion was “death”…and I simply put forward the notion that…
“You fucking synchrosnots or whatever, cream in your pants every fucking time that a celebrity dies, or some celebrity or politician loses their cool and pisses in the reporter pool’s punch, or someone firebombs a church that results in a large body count. Or some random raving madmen go on a 12 state killing spree, or some cop beats a kid to death for driving their Barbie Corvette on the street with out a license, registration, and proper state inspection and emissions testing…but you guys and gals don’t give a flying FUCK about these people when they are alive. I never heard anyone saying shit like…OH SO AND SO IS STILL ALIVE AND DOING FINE!!!NOTHING TO REPORT EXCEPT THEY ARE ALIVE AND WELL!!!”
To which the person I was speaking with was like…
“Oh bullshit. You know more than you lead others to believe. You pretend you don’t know what’s really going on, but you do. You are flippantly naive.”
I of course, being me, laughed…because I love it when people are brutally honest with me. It not only allows me to know what others are thinking of me, but it allows me to better evaluate what I think of myself. Not that I generally give a shit what others think about me, because most people don’t know me nor even wanna know me.
So why give a shit what others think? They don’t live in my skin…I do. Nor do I live in their skin. I tend to get under some people’s skin…such as my mother’s skin last night at dinner. But that’s a story for another paragraph. 😉
^Draft – Izumi^
So yesterday, I finally worked up the courage to call my mother and wish her a Merry Christmas. Yes, it was two days after Christmas. But we don’t talk. Plus, she was at my sister’s house out of town for the holidays. Not that I knew that. But I found out later via whatshername, so it was as good of an excuse as any to have not called. Not that I typically require an excuse, but I AM currently on the same side of town where she lives, so I felt a bit guilty for not calling even tho we don’t talk anymore.
I digress.
During the course of the conversation on the phone, my mother mentioned that she would like to take all of us to dinner. I’ll spare you the drama that it took to assemble what is left of several broken families and their opinions as to gathering for a grand total of an hour to feed our faces on my mother’s dime.
But it happened.
I sat directly across from my mother and my soon to be ex-wife, and being that I am a slow eater, I was the last one still cramming Mexican food into my pie hole as the others drifted into “those” conversations. Yes…“those” conversations. You know…
Death,
injury,
illness,
surgery,
doctors,
trauma,
death,
dying,
taxes,
politics,
death…
oh and…
death.
I took all I could take, quietly eating and trying to think of freaky sex as I choked down the greasy cheesy beef enchilada smothered in honey, when I finally reached my limit.
^Deadmau5 – Ghosts n Stuff^
When the topic of “Deep Vein Thrombosis” came up, and my mother started describing, in detail, the surgical procedures available, in conjunction with “whatshername the quasi-doctor” and her appraisals of the gore are carnage involved, as well as the procedures for preparing samples of tissues for evaluation to check for OTHER related and/or possible potential diseases and/or ailments that may require further treatment…I looked up, using my best cold stare, and said.
“I’m eating here.”
There were equally evil looks of shock, dismay sprinkled with “HOW DARE YOU!!!” types of vibes, along with the usual “We’re just talking” kinds of “if we want your opinion, we’ll give it to you” kinds of mumbled offendedness, and immediately returned to their morbid discussion.
So...I got nasty.
“I’m eating a greasy beef enchilada…I don’t really wanna be thinking about doctors removing 200 feet of defective blood veins from your fucking leg.”
The ice...was and/is...unbreakable.
I am a lightning rod of anger and rage…nothing more.
Push him far enough, and he will break.
And if he doesn't?
Well…we’ll just have to try harder…won’t we?
I’ve prolly spent a grand total of 3 hours around my mother over the last 3 years.
That was 3 hours too many.
She doesn’t like me.
Never did.
^Marshmello – Alone (Official Music Video)^
I don’t mind being alone. Yeah, I like being around people as much if not more than most. But when you are alone for the first 20 years of your life? I mean really…what do they expect you to learn?
People skills?
The only people skills I learned came from books, and sometimes movies and music. I learned that in my world…Yeah, there ARE people out there who get along just fine. I was just born where and when I was born. I learned to deal with it as best as I could, and I continue to learn how to deal with it as best as I can.
Everyone breaks. And when you are completely broken? Well…you are either there…or you will be. Hope is a great thing. It gives me, and has given me, hope that not everyone has to walk the path that I have. And this has fuckall to do with individuality…this is about purpose. You either have one, or you make one. Before long, you have difficulty telling the difference.
^deadmau5 – Closer (Cover Art)^
Yes…I know more than I let on. But there is a reason for that. Many reasons for that.
Just keep in mind who I work for, and the answers will come.
And if they don’t…I’m betting that you can even find peace in not knowing.
I sure do.
There are many things that I know, that I would rather not know.
They scare the shit out of me.
But I have a friend or two.
Even if I don’t know them…and even if they do not exist…I believe there is at least one person out there who believes in me and what I am doing.
The why…is irrelevant…because they already know why.
I cannot be what I am not.
But I can be what I can.
Weird how everything goes straight to hell from there…eh?
Why?
Because…suddenly…others are involved.
That means titles, labels, evaluations, opinions, and all KINDS of name calling…usually of the “unkind” sorts of kinds.
Weird.
^Calvin Harris – I’m Not Alone (deadmau5 Mix) [lyrics in description] [HD/HQ]^
See how sometime psychology can actually get in the way of “progress?” Things like “ego” and “pride” and “selfishness” start getting bandied about the first rattle out of the bag…and it’s all downhill from there.
And it’s NEVER a two way street.
You can be prideful about doing your job correctly in assessing the defects and defectives…but I’m not allowed that privilege of doing it myself and saving you the time?
Governing kinda…gets in the way of self-governing. Especially on those occasions when you need help from someone else, get it…and now, they got their hooks into you. They gotta know EVERY … FUCKING … DETAIL…because these laws, rules, regulations, and company guidelines are here for YOUR protection.
(yawn)
Good thing that I am happy here at the bottom of that hill…
In the valley…
Of the shadow of death…
HEY! That's MY shadow!!!
Being of the valley, I guess makes that valley mine.
Lemme help ya up.
You got better things to do than lay around thinking about death and dying.
That's my job.
^Deadmau5 – Where Phantoms Sleep 04^
X: You gonna let me talk?
Cade: Sure. I’ve been known to do that.
X: You sound…kinda…confident there.
0: Are you sure that you are not “overstating”…I think is what you are being asked.
Cade: How would I know?
Z: Allow me…
Cade: (lol)…OK…first time for everything.
Z: Just kiddin.
Cade: (lol) OK…first time for everything.
X: Yer gonna pay for that.
T: In spades.
B: Say WHAT?!?!?
Cade: I dunnot think that means what you think it means.
X: I may or may not reserve the right to withdraw my support at any time.
Cade: That’s…reassuring.
X: It wasn’t meant to be.
Cade: Well…it is.
X: Mission accomplished. You fail again. Get out. You pass.
Cade: (lol) Yeah…it’s hard to pass a test that you can only pass by failing.
Dear Reader, a few days before Christmas, author Hugo Stone was interviewed by Kirsty Cork, feisty anchor of the topical daily TV news programme ‘NoozNight’. Here is a transcript of that interview…
*Oh tush, Clicky… It’s not that bad…*
*******
KIRSTY CORK (KC):
As 2016 nears an end, a year that has been rocked by political upset and an avalanche of celebrity deaths, I am joined now by Hugo Stone, author of the novel ‘Cultish‘ and soon to be published ‘Bunny Snuff‘, to review this past year and discuss the implications for 2017. Hugo, thank you for coming…
KC:
Er, quite. Well let’s start with your seminal work ‘Cultish’, your first novel. It’s very robust in its graphic descriptions of sexual depravity, where did you get the idea?
KC:
*shifts uncomfortably in seat* It’s both irreverent of organised religion and scathing of the Establishment…
KC:
… Yet big on the idea of family. How do reconcile these very differing ideas? *shifts gaze from author’s hand in trouser pocket*
KC:
Obvious? *shifts gaze back to author’s hand in trouser pocket*
KC:
*touches ear* But if we could just turn back to politics. The biggest upsets in 2016 were the Brexit vote for the UK to leave the EU…
KC:
… I’m sorry, did you say ‘the anus’?
KC:
So you foresee a strengthening of ties with the Commonwealth?
KC:
*maintains professional decorum* Fundamentally, you feel the failure of the Vote In side was due to a lack of any meaningful engagement from the EU?
KC:
… And what about the US erection…
KC:
*blushes*…Election of a billionaire reality TV star to the highest Office. Is that also an embrace of ‘the anus’?
KC:
*Shocked expression* Um…
KC:
*glares toward control booth* If I may now change the subject to the plethora of celebrity deaths this year. For you, which was the most poignant?
KC:
Living your book? What on earth do you mean?
KC:
Thank you, Hugo Stone. *smiles thinly* That’s quite enough for now *violently removes earpiece*
– TRANSCRIPT ENDS –
*******
*Alright! I was just trying something different… /pouts… Okay, okay… see if you can retrieve the situation with a Song…*
*Fuck! He just died as well… Probably to turn in his grave… /sigh…*
I, myself, have been having a quiet but busy time of it: proofing Hugo Stone’s new tale and putting the finishing touches to an ‘interview‘ we had just before Christmas…
*Oh, I see what you’re doing Clicky… /taps nose… *
… And hosting ramblings from Cade, The Okie Devil. You’ll find his latest below, but he’s also reposting some of his older Sync Miss For Him warblings, hear. They are intense but I do hope you’re enjoying his missives, Dear Reader…
*But of course, Clicky… /chortles… It means eye get to be Dear Reader… /wink…*
*******
What are you doing?
Really?
What are you wearing?
I’ve been WAY too fucking serious recently. So I thought that I would start this whathaveyou off with a dirty joke…
The white horse fell in the mud.
Ya see…it’s like this.
When I see a picture like the above? Yeah…cool shit. Wicked looking, and someone prolly spent a shitload of time creating the graphics that went into that gif. But then, I start to see stuff. I start to wonder…”Outside of art and the art itself, what does that image represent?”
Then I got to thinking about sand and silicone, and starting thinking about…”That almost looks like a mathematical/graphical/materials science representation of how a certain element and/or molecules of a certain compound break down over time.” I don’t know “the” or any specifics for that matter. It’s just what came to mind when looking at it. It looks like a crystalline structure of some kind breaking down to a certain point, to where it represents a less fractal type of structure, and more geometric type of shape. And I would assume, that the point at which the animation ends is when the more geometric type of shape reverses and starts to assume a more fractal shape again with same type of conditions and time that caused it to arrive where it did, and the process starts over again at some point. It just reminded me of some engineering that was done some time in the past where there was a point to where some of the structures that engineers were designing? Well, we’ll just say that nature was/is having major problems dealing with those materials, structures and/or shapes. Especially over time and times.
Maybe there is a reason and or reasons that “nature does not draw in straight lines.”
Maybe we just don’t understand the straight lines that nature draws in.
I can see some of them. They are rarely straight…and yet very straight.
Yesterday I went to a Christmas party. I had a few beers, followed by a few cocktails, followed by a few shots. I still had the sense to know that I was over the limit. That’s when I decided to do what I have never done before: I took a cab home. Sure enough, there was a police roadblock on the way home, and since it was a cab, they waved it past. I arrived home safely without incident. This was both a great relief and a surprise because I had never driven a cab before. I don’t even know where I got it and now that it is in my garage, I don’t know what to do with it.
————————————————–
I found that joke on another forum, and copied it verbatim. Except for the formatting.
It bet cab drivers have heard many jokes. Prolly seen a few too. Maybe even inspires them to write a few of their own. I bet someone could write a book about it. I know that I wasn’t fond of the “Taxi Cab Confessions” series on HBO. Seemed like there was too much leading. But that “Cash Cab” show they had on TLC or Discovery Channel or whatever it was? Fucking AWESOME show.
————————————————–
My balls itch.
What is this shit all about.
My balls still itch. X: Perhaps you should scratch them. Cade: Mind your own fucking business. X: … Cade: THX!!!
Cade: They are my balls after all. X: But they didn’t even itch. T: Yeah. You were just trying to make some silly point. Cade: Was I successful? 0: Be careful with that kind of “cleverness”…k? Cade: Where this is going? I see it. X: O RLY? Cade: Maybe. 0: Why speak as if you know something, if you in fact…don’t. Cade: I dunno. How else am I supposed to learn? X: Blend. Z: Yeah…blend. B: It works for some people. Cade: Lemme guess…”and not so much for others?” B: Some do tend to “stand out.” Cade: Welp, as long as I can stand, I figure…good for me. X: And… 0: Yeah…you left some stuff out there. T: … Cade: I tried to avoid the incoming penis joke. X: … 0: … T: What are you looking up here for? The joke is in your hand. Cade: A very common phrase of wisdom, written on many a bathroom wall. X: Why do you think that is? Cade: Public bathrooms? You do that kind of shit at home, and someone is gonna get an ass kicking. X: Shit in public. Is that what you are saying? Cade: Sure. Whatevz. X: …rawr…. Cade: Thanks for the smiles. X: Whatevz. A: Yeah…whatevz.
Yeah…when you hear things that others cannot hear? Yeah…it tends to scare people more than anything else. But when you see something that others cannot see? And then you take the time to point out what you are seeing? And then, they see it too? Yeah…it freaks them out pretty bad, but there is a kind of “relief” there. Maybe even a sparkle in the eye. A kind of…”Oh, maybe he’s not so weird, and maybe it’s kinda OK to be weird sometimes.” But the worst, is…yeah…when someone starts to hear what you are hearing. I’ve spent time trying to describe what I am hearing, and when people start to hear it? They freak the fuck out. And not in a good way. They’ll plug their ears and start that “la la la” kind of crap. They become convinced that the only reason that they heard what they heard, is because I heard it first, then described what I was hearing until they heard it. The sense of smell may be the most poignant and jarring sense. But sound? By far the most frightening. I would assume, primarily among those who have their eyesight reasonably intact. I mean, why rely on the ears when you have the eyes? I dunno. I have weird/limited hearing and good eyes. I love hearing stuff. Especially during thunderstorms when you can see the lightning, smell the rain, hear and feel the thunder, and the electricity in the air just makes your hair stand up on end. And I have kind of a booming voice…when I choose to. I like sound.
I dunno. Since when do I need to always FUCKING KNOW what the fuck I am talking about? Does that make me fit in or some shit? Cause I can assure you…the one absolute without a fucking DOUBT way for me to NOT “fit-in”…is for me to try and fit-in. I’m either too smart, or too stupid…usually too stupid…but I digress. It’s that way for and with a lot of groups. They let certain people join, for no other reason, than to single them out. A living breathing walking talking fuckup for everyone else in their group to point and laugh at, and justify their whatever and whathaveyou. Cause we all know that when it’s just you and a bunch of nod-mouthed drones just like you? Ya gotta…break up the monotony occasionally. Remind yourself why you are doing…whatever it is that you think you are doing.
Sounds like sound logic.
Kudos to you.
Good job at being there for…whoever you are there for.
Sounds…unified.
Yeah, I was kinda thinking about the Masons and Illuminati and Templars and whatthefuckever types of groups that seem so goddamn popular all of a sudden. From what little I know about them, I have kinda equal parts of respect and contempt for them. Especially the Masons. You can’t have a hammer, if you have nothing to crush or drive with it. You cannot have a measure, if you have nothing to measure. You also cannot have any of it, without those to help you dream for whatever it is you are dreaming of, and those that you serve by doing…whatever it is you are doing. People wanna wear rings and chat and drink beer in some exclusive club…I have no problem with that. Sounds like the military, excluding the enlisted. Unless they have a high school class ring of course. But who wears those after high school. Assuming you could even afford one. Even if you did make it to graduation. It’s almost like a sifter into a sieve eh? Take the good ones, and send the rest down the shitter.
Oh…I’m sorry. Am I trampling on you sensibilities and beliefs?
Fuck you AND your sensibilities and beliefs.
If you think this isn’t difficult for me…you are mistaken.
If it looks like shit, and smells like shit, do I really need to taste it to know that it is shit?
A: Sometimes. My soon to be ex-wife is a pretty terrible cook. But she’s gotten better. Not that it benefits me really, but I’m still glad to see her cooking and enjoying it and getting better at it. The key? She’s not afraid of cooking anymore. She’s not afraid to fuck up, and deals with her fuckups better than she used to. And as a result, she’s gotten pretty good at it. (not fucking up/cooking well that is)
It’s amazing what a little bit of confidence will do for you.
It’s also amazing what good a bad situation can bring about.
Z: You finished? Cade: I dunno. What do you think? Z: Pretty long posting to dump off on that poor young lady, and expect her to edit/make sense of your nonsense. Cade: Um…just…whatever…and stuff. X: What were you gonna say there? Cade: I don’t fucking know! What the fuck do you say to something like that? Z: Nothin. Cade: OK…um…nothin. Z: Touché. Cade: I’ll skip the swordplay, and stick with wordplay. Z: Really? What’s the difference? Cade: One I can’t do, and neither can I. Z: WHAT?!?!? Cade: I dunno…just…learnin and bumbling my way through this shit. Z: Which is? Cade: Whatever it is. T: You were gonna say something there. Cade: How can I say what I don’t know how to say? T: Try? Cade: I’m trying. Z: You are at that. Cade: …but, yeah. X: Woah…leave me outta this. Cade: LoL…k. Will try and remeber that next time. X: You mean…”remember?” Cade: Nope. I had it right the first time. It’s an Internet thing. 0: You wouldn’t understand. Z: … X: … Cade: Yes. I’m angry.
But this is all I have. And it’s enough. I see a light at the end of the tunnel, and I don’t give a flying fuck if it’s a train or not. I didn’t ask for a light OR a train. But I’ll deal with either when and if whatever comes…comes. My mind doesn’t work like that. I don’t prepare for the impact of the relief, irrespective of the type of relief. I don’t see myself in a tunnel at all. Just maybe…a little in the dark in some respects. Nothing wrong with that.
Now all I need is… ….whatever I need. Capice?
So a video came up in my “Recommended For You” videos, that was about this US Navy ocean tank that they have somewhere. Some dude named “Artem Lobov” made a comment that suggested they put sharks into the tank “to enhance the real world experience”…which made me laugh, but it also got me back to thinking about “biomass.” The video is below if you want to watch it, and you can prolly find the comments I made in there under Artem Lobov’s original comment.
But changing gears a bit from the technical bullshit that I ranted about over there, and changing to a new gear about the technical shit I’m going to rant about here…the term “biomass” has always bothered me. That kind of “nagging” serial killer kinda of inhuman and impersonal objectifying kind of…(shudder)…that just nullifies life itself. As if you and only you and only your life is important, and all other life is there for you personal amusement and/or to do whatever in the fuck you want with it, simply because you choose to do so. The reason/reasons become irrelevant at that point, because everything else becomes irrelevant at that point, save for it’s relevancy at some point. Lotta points there. No wonder there is always so much finger pointing. I guess that movie “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” and the method in which “the aliens” used to identify those that were still human? Maybe it wasn’t so over the top after all. I just see many biomasses in that biomass. The power of one. The power of zero. Kinda has a…”extinction” kinda ring to it eh?
Q: How fucking horrible would it be, to actually SEE an extinction event?
A: ?¿?
Irrespective of size(s) and/or amount(s)…I think that would be pretty terrible.
/me shrugs
Peaks and valleys I guess.
/me shrugs again
I dunno, maybe it’s one of them security type things that they can actually manufacture Unicorns that shit rainbows and puke gold bullion, they just can’t tell anyone about those kinds of details until you have cleared the security screening. Which I guess would explain why other country’s military and governmental peeps are more likely to gain access to these facilities than an average citizen, because they have been through all kinds of security clearances and shit like that on THEIR end. As if to say, welp, their own country trusts them, we can prolly trust them too. Not that we trust their country or anything. Because their country is full of people who haven’t been through security screening(s)…so we can’t trust them. Buncha greedy money hungry scumbags that need to be wiped off of the face of the earth. If it wasn’t for untrustworthy people, we wouldn’t have all these problems…right?
Q: When does someone become untrustworthy?
A: When does someone become trustworthy?
Q: When does someone become trustworthy of determining who and what is or is not trustworthy?
A: What happens when these type of people are no longer trustworthy, and who makes THAT determination?
Must be predetermination or something like that.
Thoughtful Man is out working today. The last Boxing Day he worked was in 2010, he reminded me this morning. It was after the Boys had made an appearance at Craven Cottage, as mascots at the Fulham match against WHAM…
*Oh they were so cute, Clicky! Mind you, The Hammers beat us 1 – 3, so they weren’t particularly lucky mascots for The Cottagers…*
Should you find yourself mourning the passing of George Michael, Dear Reader, may I suggestion you take your mind off the sad news by immersing yourself in an unfestive festive message from my good friend, The Okie Devil from Texas, below. It has cat gifs… 😉
*******
CHRISTMAS!!! It’s Almost Here!!!
The end of it that is. But when does Christmas really end? Midnight on the 25th? Because anymore? The motherfucker starts sometime around July. And really gets obvious long before November anymore. There were some stores putting out their Christmas shit at the same time they were putting out their Halloween shit. Which is fucked up if you ask me…because the last thing in the fucking WORLD that I wanna think about around the time of Halloween…is Christmas. But that’s just me…I’m evil.
^Roll It Up – The Crystal Method^
I guess I can review “What I Got For Christmas”…which normally is quite easy, cause I get very little if anything. However, when I arrived over on this side of town the other day, I made the mistake of mentioning that my shoe had blow the sole out of it during the course of a conversation with my son. This resulted in whatshername buying me a new pair of Converse Hi-Tops. I also received…
A shirt.
Socks.
$100.00 in U.S. currency. (That’s gonna be about what…$2.32 £?)
Anyway, the cash that I received was a $100 bill, and it was one of the new ones, and it was creepy as fuck. It had a goddamn microchip in it. The bill itself was pretty cool, cause when you hold it up to a light, some of the shit on the back shows through, there’s all kinds of crazy shit in there I guess to prevent counterfeiting, and I bet the bill costs more to make than it’s worth. Well, in “Economic Terms according to Economists” I’m sure it’s prolly valueless. However, I was able to take it to the corner store today and trade it in for three BRAND FUCKING NEW cans of snuff. They even gave me change. I’m hopelessly addicted to this rotten plant that is gonna give me tooth cancer. Assuming they stay in long enough.
^MK2 – Drive Away^
WARNING: THIS SECTION MAY GIVE YOU EYE AND/OR EAR CANCER!!!
Assuming that you read out loud.
Which…that makes me wonder.
Is it the content, or the inflection?
Meaning…the intent.
Like…if you read something that SOUNDS angry, but it wasn’t written under the auspices of “being angry” or even “projecting anger”…what does that say about you?
Maybe just have perception problems.
Afterall…most problems…are yours.
Right?
So if you read something “bad” out loud, and you get ear cancer instead of eye cancer, what does that say?
Anything?
I dunno. It just seems to me that even tho there are things that many if not most, and sometimes even ALL…can agree…yeah, this shit is bad.
But doesn’t that “bad” also need to tickle the “good” part in order to identify what is bad?
I believe that is called bias.
But that’s just me.
I’m biased.
^MK2 – The Darkness^
—————————————- RANDOM WIKIPEDIA ATTACK!!!!
—————————————-
From today’s featured article… Tropical Storm Vamei – a Pacific tropical cyclone that formed closer to the equator than any other tropical cyclone in the Pacific Ocean. The last storm of the 2001 Pacific typhoon season, Vamei developed on December 26 at 1.4° N in the South China Sea. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tropical_Storm_Vamei
—————————————- Mardi Gras: Spring Break – a 2011 comedy/road trip film. It stars Nicholas D’Agosto, Josh Gad, Bret Harrison, Arielle Kebbel, Danneel Harris, Regina Hall, and Carmen Electra. It is directed by Phil Dornfield. The film follows a trio of senior college students who visit New Orleans during the Mardi Gras season. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mardi_Gras:_Spring_Break
—————————————- C. J. Aiken – an American professional basketball player who currently plays for Wilki Morskie Szczecin of the Polish Basketball League. He played college basketball for Saint Joseph’s University. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C._J._Aiken
—————————————- Community Newspaper Holdings – an American publisher of newspapers and advertising-related publications throughout the United States. The company was formed in 1997 by Ralph Martin, and is based in Montgomery, Alabama (after moving from Birmingham, Alabama in September 2011). The company is financed by the Retirement Systems of Alabama. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Community_Newspaper_Holdings
—————————————- Leatherwood, Tennessee – an unincorporated community located in Wayne County, Tennessee. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leatherwood,_Tennessee
—————————————- HMSAS Africana – a minesweeping trawler of the South African Seaward Defence Force during the Second World War. She was originally a sea fisheries research vessel and was latter fitted for mine-sweeping and survey duties in the early 1930s. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMSAS_Africana
—————————————- Stokenbury Cemetery – a historic cemetery on Arkansas Highway 16 in Elkins, Arkansas. Established c.1846, it is the best-preserved property representing the early settlement of Elkins (now a bedroom suburb of Fayetteville). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stokenbury_Cemetery
—————————————- Freedom Evolves – a 2003 popular science and philosophy book by Daniel C. Dennett. Dennett describes the book as an installment of a lifelong philosophical project, earlier parts of which were The Intentional Stance, Consciousness Explained and Elbow Room. It attempts to give an account of free will and moral responsibility which is complementary to Dennett’s other views on consciousness and personhood. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freedom_Evolves
—————————————- Sir William Gladstone, 7th Baronet – a retired teacher and officer of the Royal Navy. He was Chief Scout of the United Kingdom from 1972 to 1982. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_William_Gladstone,_7th_Baronet
—————————————- Dunterlie Park (1906–1919) – a football ground in Barrhead, Scotland. It was the home ground of Arthurlie between 1906 and 1919, and was the second of three grounds to bear the same name. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dunterlie_Park_(1906%E2%80%931919)
—————————————- Antiochus Kantemir – a Moldavian who served as a man of letters, diplomat, and prince during the Russian Enlightenment. He has been called “the father of Russian poetry”. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antiochus_Kantemir
—————————————- Sherwood Colliery F.C. – an English football club based in Mansfield Woodhouse, Nottinghamshire. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherwood_Colliery_F.C.
—————————————- Dina Iordanova – an educationalist and Professor of Film Studies at the University of St. Andrews. A specialist in world cinema, her special expertise is in the cinema of the Balkans, Eastern Europe, and Europe in general. Her research approaches cinema on a meta-national level and focuses on the dynamics of transnational film; she has special interest in issues related to cinema at the periphery and in alternative historiography. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dina_Iordanova
—————————————- FNAR – a group that has blown up several radar speed traps in France. They have demanded from the government lower taxes, more motorist-friendly policies, an end to immigration, and 4 million euros. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FNAR
—————————————- Suel A. Sheldon – a member of the Michigan Senate. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suel_A._Sheldon
—————————————- Harnam Singh – the second son of Raja Sir Randhar Singh Bahadur, GCSI, Raja of Kapurthala and younger brother of Raja Karak Singh Bahadur, Raja of Kapurthala. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harnam_Singh
—————————————-
For those not familiar with “my shit”…that was/is what is known as one of my Random Wikipedia rants. I just go to Wikipedia, check out the “featured article” on the main page, then I click the “random” link 15 times, and see what in the fuck comes up. Usually some damned interesting stuff. But I have varied tastes. I guess I’m not as biased as I thought. /me shrugs Give it a try yourself sometime.
—————————————-
^Koyaanisqatsi + Riders on the Storm (Nightmares on Wax Remix)^
Yeah…there’s a lot of shit on this tiny little planet of ours that is getting smaller and smaller by the day. I have no idea where we are gonna put all this shit. Butt I bet you prolly have some suggestions as to where exactly I can put all my shit. Not that it’s the same place that you keep your shit or anything. I mean…we all have brains…right?
^Adana Twins – Strange (Original Mix)^
Open the pod bay doors HAL.
Do you know what that means? Where that phrase originated, and what it is in reference to?
Did you pick it up from some Internet Meme, or some song, or poster, or advertisement?
Or have you actually seen the movie where this phrase originated, and know for yourself as to the logic, or some would say, lack of logic, behind what is behind this phrase?
Has all of the bullshit that this phrase has been subjected to diluted this phrase?
Or is that choice ours.
I admit that I was/am not too fond of the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey itself, but then again I’ve never read the book.
Perhaps I should.
Perhaps someday, I will.
We’ll see eh?
Unless we don’t.
What is important to you?
How the fuck would I know?
Do I need to know?
I guess, only if I do…eh?
^ZZ Top – Rough Boy (OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO)^
Sometimes? Things…just… … …go wrong.
Weird that things can turn out kinda right, when things get kinda sideways.
Of course, you’ll need to watch the video below to have the slightest inkling as to the current frame of reference to which I am referring. Assuming that you can. I dunno. I’m not where you are. I am where I am. I could describe the video to you, but it’s one of those things that…ya just gotta see for yourself.
Hal: “I don’t want to see it…I’ve GOT to see it.”
Movie = Shallow Hal
^Tony Pedregon Dickie Venables Indy 2005 bad accident Stagging to fuel funny car Nitro^
I guess most of the time when I write, it sounds as tho I know what the fuck I am talking about. Even tho I realize that I accomplish that by coming off as if I have no fucking clue what I am talking about. Which I don’t. I have no answer(s), and I am not a “truth seeker” as is so popular among certain sections of…whatever section you are researching or reading about or whatever to find the whatever you are searching for. I prefer the term “seeker”…because it’s less more and less broad in it’s scope…more or less anyway. To me, it helps me along my journey. But that’s just me. Ya gotta keep in mind that I am a complete and total loser who could fuck up a two car funeral. I guess the primary problem that I have with respect to “Truth Seekers” is what they omit. And what do they omit? I dunno. But like most people, they sure as shit don’t like it when they find it. I know I don’t. Being “wrong”…hurts. Being right…well…that hurts just as much to me. But that’s just me. Yes…there is some satisfaction in “knowing that you are right.” Just don’t get left.
Truth seems to be where you find it.
Not where you look for it.
I dunno what to tell ya. Not that I’m trying to tell you anything other than I dunno what to tell ya or anything like that. But it just seems to me that the more we share? The more stingy we can be without being stingy at all. Where is that line between benevolent and stingy? I dunno. But someone is SURE to point it out to you. I myself am trying to not be so stingy with my reserve. Good luck figuring that one out.
^Lunatic Calm – Leave You Far Behind (Original Video)^
I hope your Christmas was everything you wanted it to be.
Even if you wanted it to not be.
Or just wanted it to be over.
You still wanted it to be.
You just wanted it to be…whatever you wanted it to be.
Doesn’t really change things for me.
But I’m weird like that.
——–
-cYa-
c-F-a
——–
^Underworld Born Slippy^
*******
*/taps foot… Fuck! He’s off again… /sigh… Bloody Clicky Wiki Wander…*
*Bastard! Creeping up on me like that… Nearly gave me a heart attack…*
Dear Reader, I’ve had a perfect Christmas Eve… */shrugs…* Well, I’ve enjoyed mine. First up Hugo, author of Cultish, has been sending me installments of a Christmas story he’s writing. It’s about bunnies…
*/coughs… Something like that, Clicky…*
Thoughtful Man, too, gave me a story to read when he came home from work. It was an impulse buy whilst refueling his taxi. Bastard! I haven’t bought him anything…
*Completely! …/facepalm… We agreed, Clicky, we wouldn’t buy each other presents… I really thought he was going to stick to it this year… Bastard!*
Finally, I received a Christmas missive (“for YOU!!!”) from The Okie Devil, Cade…
*/jaw drops… How did you know? Only one video shows up below… /looks down… He did something to it, Clicky… /squints… Fucked if I know…*
*******
M3RRY FUCKING X-MAS FUCKF4CES!!!
How much money did YOU spend this year?
That much eh?
Perhaps you should spend more.
May I suggest…a better paying job.
BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!!!
So…”what’s this all about?”…you may ask yourself.
I dunno.
What’s it all about?
What do you want?
What do you need?
OBVIOUSLY…you have a shitload of spare time, otherwise, you wouldn’t be wasting your time reading my bullshit. I’m just drifting along on my rocket-powered jet boat…headed the wrong direction as fast as I possibly can. Against the current. With the current. Sideways-ish to the current. Whatever works.
What works for you?
I dunno what works for you. And what works for me may not work for you.
One thing is obvious tho. The more shit you can cram into your head in anticipation of what may be to come down the road? The more spare time you would appear to have to waste time on preparing for something that may never happen.
Not that I am trying to dissuade you from anything or anything.
So why would you attempt and dissuade me from anything?
Not that you are or anything.
Look at it like this. In most “developed nations”…I don’t think anyone can argue, that if public water supplies were suddenly unavailable for whatever reason(s)? Yeah. A lotta people are gonna be in deep shit real fucking fast and in short order. So what do we do? I dunno. What DO we do? I guess the better question would be…
Q: What are we doing and why?
A: ???
Are you reconciling the past with the present for the sake of the future? Or are you living in the present? Are you ARE living in the present are you? Then explain the retirement fund.
The 401K?
The “college fund”?
The life-insurance policy/policies?
Health insurance?
Do these thing bring you happiness?
Or security?
Or both?
Cause if so…what are you bitching about?
Diseases you may never contract?
Accidents you may never have?
Freshman years that may never arrive?
Lotta insurances and assurances there for people to be so goddamn glum. So let’s bring it to the day to day, and let’s use something simple…
Q: What were you prohibited from doing today?
A: Say fucking WHAT?!?!?!?
Q: Today. What were you prohibited from doing, that you wanted to do, and who prohibited you from doing it?
If you read the article above, in the fourth paragraph of the article, second paragraph under the “Cellular Morphology” section, there is the following statement…
Saccharomyces produces ascospores, especially when grown on V-8 medium
What in the FLYING MOTHER FUCKING FUCK…is a “V-8 Medium?!?!?”
Any why “especially” should I be growing this shit on “a V-8 medium?”
Wait…
I have an idea!
Learning to go fast.
It’s something that you have to learn fast.
You also have to learn how to go slow…fast!
Weird.
So thinking about speed, which means we need to think about time…and when thinking about speed and time TOGETHER…that means we also need to add distance. So I’ll reference the equation Distance over Time = Speed, or D/T = S. Which of these are most important? All…DUH! Can’t have one without the other eh? Can’t have the one without the three, that makes one outta two via one. Sound confusing?
Q: What is the dropout rate in any level at any age for any school of any type in any country anywhere on this planet Earth/Terra of ours?
A: ???
While you chew on that…
Q: What would that dropout rate be if there were no schools?
A: (GIMME A FUCKING BREAK…you might be saying)
Nope.
There’s all kinds of neeto stuff to learn on this planet. And we owe ALL of that to our forefathers and foremothers and other motherfuckers like that. Sorry, but I don’t like to discriminate when speaking in generalities.
😉
But yeah…um…school and schools and schooling and stuff like that. There we some people that I grew up with, who’s relatives opened one of the first public schools in The State of Texas. That has always stuck with me, because I always wanted to be a teacher. I like teaching, I enjoy it, but I was too stupid and too poor to even think about college. I’ve always had trouble SPELLING the fucking word “college”…and never knew what the fucking difference between college and university was, other than neither concerned me, nor would they ever. But thinking about “a public school”…that sounds to me like it should be something that would have it’s doors open to anyone who wanted to attend…NOW we have to be certified and educated in educating, and treating all of the little eggs the same, because…their just stupid kids who don’t know shit from Shinola anyway.
Q: How easy is it to learn?
A: ???
Q: What if you learn “too fast” or “too easily” in comparison to the other little eggs?
A: ¿¿¿
Lemme guess…that makes you “a bad egg.”
Not that I have any experience with that sort of thing or anything.
Yeah…I got no answers either. I just know that “life sucks and then you die” or “life’s a bitch, and then you marry one” or insert whatever clever and witty whatever type of cliche that also will make absolutely zero sense to me personally. I’m pretty big on examining both points at each end and all points inbetween. But words like “inbetween” kinda say it all for me. Cause that’s where it all appears to be. It’s all in there. Not that I’m a middleman or anything. I did make a pretty nasty bet with God once.
As we can see…”Natural Gas”…is natural. It says so right fucking there in the name. And anything that is natural? Is fair game. First come, first serve. The rest of you…welp…sorry!
Better luck next time!
Mystery = Solved! Next!
Yeah…I took Lithium once. Twice even. It takes a while of taking it to “build-up” to a certain level in your bloodstream…a few days or so, and then, you have to go get your blood drawn every fucking week to check the levels and make sure that they are at or between certain levels, and not above those certain levels or A certain level…cause it can and will kill you. Not that I have any experience with that sort of thing. But I DO know, that the “extended release” lithium that my doctor gave me for a while? Not so good. I’m thinking that there is a connection there with respect to someone that may have bowel and or digestive tract type(s) of issue(s)…like me. Not that I have any issues or anything. Nothing major anyway. So they tell me. My body says otherwise. But what the fuck does my body know?
My point?
Hmmm….didn’t know I had one. But I do wonder about change and changes over time and over times sometimes.
Just sayin.
I dunno where you are, nor do I know where I am. But I do know that it is currently 13:35 or 01:35 PM in the afternoon of Christmas Eve here in the North Texas area near Dallas where my fat ass is currently parked on one hard assed cement floor that is painted shit brown, meaning the date is 2016.12.24. Whatshername is gonna make homemade pizzas tonight, and they are planning on watching Christmas movies and playing that goofy assed dice game called Tensies or Tenzies or whatever it’s called. I’m here for another day or so, then back to elsewhere. All that to say, I have no idea who you are, or where you are, or when you are reading this. I only know where I am and when I am writing this shit where I am…or something.
Wherever you are…
Merry Christmas.
X: You gonna leave me out? Cade: I’d never do that. You? X: What? 0: He wants to know if you are gonna leave him out. X: Oh. Cade: lol…thanks…I needed that. X: 😉 Cade: ❤
*/squints upwards… Yeah, he’s definitely done something to the text, Clicky…*
*… See! It works fine now… /holds up hands… Why are you looking at me like that? Clicky? What are you doing? …/steps back… Gerroff, you filthy beast… /taps snout…*
Update: It’s the afternoon of Saturday 4th February and I’ve not got anything particular to do now that Thoughtful Man has left for work. Boys are busy doing their thang and Popstar is curled up asleep beside me in my roomy Library chair, dreaming doggy dreams.
Sit back and enjoy, Dear Reader, the conclusion to ‘Secret Santa’ 😀
*******
Josie lived in the opposite direction to me, but I didn’t care. As the taxi pulled up outside I could see she lived in a block of flats. I paid the driver, remembering to get a receipt of course, and made my way to the entrance. I pressed the button for her flat.
The intercom burped into life. “Hello?” sputtered a tinny voice.
“Hello, Josie? It’s Harriet from work. I’ve got your Secret Santa gift here. Can I deliver it?”
There was a pause before she replied, “Oh, Okay. I’ll buzz you in.” The intercom gave a mournful wail and the front door clicked. I pushed it open and entered.
Josie lived on the second floor. The building didn’t have a lift, so I was slightly breathless by the time I’d climbed four flights of stairs, carrying a gift that seemed to be getting heavier by the minute. I found her waiting for me, stood in front of her open door. Like a pink Venus she rose in my field of vision: first fluffy socks, rolled to the ankle, followed by shapely naked legs, topped by tight shorts with added camel toe crevice, completed by a cropped tee-shirt that emphasised her toffee smooth midriff and perfectly rounded breasts. The sight took away my remaining breath and left me feeling faint and weak at the knees.
“Oh my god, that’s huge!” Josie cried, making her way forward to help me. “Gosh, are you alright, Harry? You’re white as a sheet. Do you want to come in and have a drink?”
I took a long, deep breath and nodded. The universe seemed to have relented and fortune was now smiling on me. I followed her into her flat, doing my best to hide the grin on my face. “Where do you want me to put it?” I asked her. “The present, I mean…” I added slyly.
Josie giggled at my double entendre. “Oh, anywhere in there will do.” She pointed in the direction of the living room, then closed the front door behind us.
I placed the box on the living room floor and looked around. A half full bottle of wine and empty glass sat on the coffee table. Her TV was mounted on the wall and playing some festive Hollywood crap. The volume was turned down, sparing me from having to listen to its seasonally cheerful inanities.
“We didn’t want you to miss out on your secret Santa gift,” I said shrugging off my coat. Josie took it and my handbag then disappeared back into the hall.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” Josie called. “Was it a good night? I got home from work to find the washing machine had flooded. By the time I’d cleared it up I really wasn’t in the mood for socialising.”
“That’s understandable. It was alright. I’ve had better,” I called back getting comfy on the sofa. This one is already starting to get better, I thought picking up the wine bottle and studying the label. Shiraz, my favourite.
Josie returned carrying another wine glass and I filled both from the bottle. “Cheers, Harry! Merry Christmas!” she said chinking my glass.
I took a mouthful of wine and swallowed. “Mmm, nice. Merry Christmas, Josie. Are you going to open your present?”
Josie gave a girlish squeal and sat down cross legged in front of her wrapped box in one graceful, fluid movement. The elasticated fabric of her shorts stretched, barely managing to cover the modesty of her plump but righteous arse cheeks. She pulled her hair back from her face and let it hang over one shoulder.
Just as earlier in the evening, I could feel the blood pump furiously through my veins, only this time it was directed to a completely different area of my body. “Josie, can I use your bathroom,” I asked.
“Sure, it’s the door on the left before the bedroom,” she said as her hands caressed the smooth and shiny wrapping paper.
The bathroom was pink – obviously her favourite colour – and smelt of roses. I peed and washed my hands, then splashed water over my already moist pussy and gave it a rub with a fluffy pink towel hanging next to the sink. No harm freshening it up just in case, I thought. I checked my teeth in the mirror for any untoward particles of Christmas dinner and stuck out my tongue – stained red from wine but not furry. Good.
When I returned, I found wrapping paper and cardboard discarded on the floor, but Josie herself was nowhere to be seen. I retraced my steps and found her in the kitchen, bent over her microwave and displaying even more of those sweet arse cheeks of hers.
“What are you cooking?” I asked once I’d drank my fill.
She rushed over and gave me a hug, encircling me with her slender arms and pressing her breasts against me. I felt hard nipples push into my skin and gave a silent pray to Jesus for the invention of chocolate.
“Harry! Oh my god I can’t believe someone bought me a chocolate fountain. Chocolate is so much fun!”
The contraption I’d bought her sat on the kitchen table, plugged in but empty, its shiny tiers waiting to be filled. I breathed in the vanilla scent of her luxurious hair as I hugged her back, gently rubbing my own throbbing breasts against hers. “Ooh, a chocolate fountain!” I exclaimed. “Lucky you!”
The microwave pinged and Josie turned away, opened the door, and removed a bag of melted chocolate with her fingertips. Grabbing a pair of scissors, she snipped the corner off and poured a stream of warm chocolate into the fountain’s bottom tier.
“I’ve always wanted one of these,” she said as she threw me a smile and switched the machine on. After a few seconds, a flood of chocolate gushed up through the top tier and cascaded down smoothly, enveloping the tiers below.
“Now that is a thing of beauty,” I said admiringly.
“Yes it is,” Josie replied and stuck her finger into the rich stream of chocolate. She pulled it out and put it in her mouth, sucking hard. Her elfin features contorted with pleasure. “Oh my god, Harry, you’ve got to try this!” she said invitingly.
Tentatively, I approached the gently humming machine. Encouraged by her ecstatic gasps of pleasure, I decided to make my move. I poked two fingers into the silky, warm stream, cooing at the sensation. I pulled them out and sucked on my index finger, holding the middle finger out to Josie, my other hand poised beneath to catch the drips. “Mmm… more?”
To my amazement, she took my dribbling middle finger in her mouth and sucked hard. I could feel her tongue lap at the sweet gloop and marvelled at the innocent look of pleasure on her face as she sucked the chocolate off. With our lips just inches apart, I reached up with my free hand and gently stroked the underside of her chin.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?”
Looming in the doorway of the kitchen stood Alfie. Josie and I both jumped. Me guiltily.
“Alfie. I didn’t hear you come in. What you doing home so early?” Josie asked her hulking boyfriend. Up close, the Easter Island resemblance was uncanny: he looked rock hard, menace etched into his face.
“WHO THE FUCK IS THIS BITCH?” he demanded of Josie, who flushed. “WHAT THE FUCK YOU DOING?”
Shit! I thought, I need to get out fast and in one piece.
“I think there’s a misunderstanding. I’m Harriet from work. I’ve just dropped Josie’s Secret…” I started to tell him before he shut me up with a stinging slap with the back of his hand. I felt my incisors rip through my bottom lip as my head rocked back. Blood sprayed out across the pristine white tee-shirt that covered his chiseled pecs.
“YOU TRYING TO GET IN MY GIRLFRIEND’S KNICKERS, YOU DIRTY FUCKING LESBO?” he screamed at me.
I felt warm blood fill my mouth and mingle with the residual taste of chocolate. I held my hand up to my face and cringed. “My mowff…” I spluttered.
“No Alfie!” Josie explained, “Harry’s just a work colleague.”
“THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS FOR?” he yelled, pulling my ‘Big Boy’ butt plug Secret Santa gift from behind his back. I’d put it in my handbag, but it must have fallen out. “WERE YOU GONNA RAM IT UP HER ARSE, YOU FILTHY CUNT?”
Josie looked at me aghast. “Harry?”
“No, I can eshplain…” I started to say but didn’t get the chance. Alfie’s meaty hand grabbed the back of my neck and spun me round, pushing me face first into the chocolate fountain. I felt the warm chocolate flood over my eyes and nose.
As my nostrils and mouth filled with molten sweetness, I could hear Josie yell and plead with her boyfriend: “Stop it Alfie! It’s Secret Santa. Stop it, please!”
My final thought before passing out was Jesus! Death by chocolate. This is no fun at all…
*******
*/sigh… I wrote it for the Christmas Underdog Anthology, Clicky. It’s not supposed to have a happy ending, for goodness sakes… /rolls eyes…*
Well, Dear Reader, I hope you’ve enjoyed my first Christmas tale at the LoL. If you liked this story, I have others in The Underdog Anthology… Although, to be brutally honest, the other authors’ contributions in it are so much better than mine 😉
Dear Reader, at last it is Friday and the day the F A Kontrell office Christmas shindig. In this two-post conclusion to my Christmas tale, we’ll find out if Harry’s devious machinations to woo the fragrant Josie actually bear fruit…
*/rolls eyes… Way too much, Clicky… Come on, just relax, put your fins up and let me tell the story…*
So, for your pleasure, the fourth installment of ‘Secret Santa’ in three, two, one…
*******
Friday evening seemed to take forever to roll around, but at last I found myself, suitable attired in sartorial elegance, at the pub the Fat Kontroller had selected to host the evening’s events. He’d hired the dining room, but most of us were gathered at the festively decorated bar while we waited for the stragglers to arrive. The pub was called The Exchange, a converted bank, with high vaulted ceiling and polished wooden floors. The Secret Santa gifts had been transferred from the office by Shazza – who else? – and were piled up in the dining room. The heap of presents was dominated by one conspicuously large parcel with a gift tag that read ‘To the gorgeous Josie, with lots of love from your Secret Santa xxx’.
Unfortunately, the object of my affections turned out to be one of the stragglers and was nowhere to be seen. I lounged against the bar with one eye on the door and the other on my watch while I swigged my drink, trusting the alcohol to sedate the butterflies that had congregated in my gut. Around me, my colleagues made small talk about work and gossiped about the latest office romances. The former was tedious beyond belief, so I tuned in on the latter just in case I heard Josie’s name mentioned. Or my own for that matter. Damn! I thought. Where the fuck is she?
A stream of cold wind blew in as the door opened and everyone looked up expectantly. The Fat Kontroller stood in the doorway, beaming and looking natty in DJ and bow tie. The man loved to make an entrance. I caught the barmaid’s eye and ordered a double scotch, his favourite tipple. It arrived just as he reached the bar.
“Harry! Is that for me?” he asked and downed the drink before waiting for an answer. He smiled at the barmaid and indicated for another. “Splendid! Let’s get this party started!”
“Oh, are we all here then?” I said as nonchalantly as I could. We were most definitely not all here; Josie had still not arrived.
He finished the second drink and looked around. Shazza appeared as if by magic and hovered at his elbow.
“HR Josie called, Mr Kontrell,” she said with a glance in my direction. “She can’t make it tonight. Her washing machine has flooded or something.” On hearing the news, the butterflies in my stomach instantly disappeared, leaving a hollow as cavernous as the pub we stood in.
The Fat Kontroller frowned at the news. “Oh, that’s a shame. She’ll miss a cracking evening,” he said, then shrugged his shoulders. “Oh well, can’t be helped I suppose. Come on Sharon, lead the way,” he said as he grabbed her fleshy bare shoulders and steered her toward the dining room.
I followed them through the crowd with leaden legs. When I reached the dining table I discovered that the seating plan had placed Josie in the seat next to mine. It felt as if the universe itself was conspiring to rub salt in my wounds. Shit! Fuck! Bollocks!
The seasonal set meal tasted like ash in my mouth as it progressed through starter, mains and dessert. I tried to look interested as the conversation swirled around me, but all I could think about was the empty seat beside me. Eventually, after coffee and petite fours had been served, the Fat Kontroller stood up and announced the start of the Secret Santa gift-giving ritual. Shazza served as his assistant: she passing him the gifts and him calling out the names. One by one we trooped up to collect them.
Eventually, he got to me. It was inevitable really. “Harry! Where’s my PA? Harriet!”
I scraped my chair back and wandered up to the top table. The Fat Kontroller was holding a gift. Not a voucher-shaped envelope that I was expecting, but a rectangular box wrapped in shiny silver paper and curly blue ribbon.
“Harry,” he beamed, handing it over, “this is for you.”
I was dumbstruck. Somebody had bought me a proper gift. “Thank you,” I said, turning it over in my hands.
“Well open it then,” Shazza urged excitedly. “I love shecret Shanta pressies,” she slurred.
“Quite sure you’ve had enough wine, Shazza?”
“Nearly,” she hiccuped and giggled into her hand. “Go on open it.”
I pulled at the tight ribbon and eased it off. Something inside the box rattled. Fuck! Somebody actually bought me a present, I thought as I started to rip off the paper. And then I saw what it was and my face fell.
“OH MY GOD!” Shazza shrieked with barely contained glee. “SECRET SANTA GAVE HARRY A BUTT PLUG!!!”
The room fell silent for a moment, and then the laughter began, triggered by a booming guffaw from the Fat Kontroller. All the blood in me seemed to leave my limbs, rush to my face, and combust there. I looked up into the Fat Kontroller’s eyes. They twinkled with mirth, unlike Shazza’s which glowed with something else altogether.
“Somebody must think you’re a pain in the arse, Harry,” she said coolly before joining in the merriment with exaggerated howls or laughter.
She set me up… the fucking bitch!!!
Slowly, I turned toward the room and held the ‘Big Boy’ butt plug for all to see. “Thank you. Thank you, Secret Santa. If I ever find out who you are, I’ll know exactly where to put this,” I shouted.
I walked back to my seat, still holding it aloft, like a prize fighter displaying a glittering belt. This elicited further laughs and a round of applause, which slightly mitigated the fucking disaster the evening had turned into. I sat down and pointedly read the packaging before putting it in my handbag. I downed my drink and wondered how long I had to stay before getting the fuck out of there.
Not long as it turned out. Once the Secret Santa ritual was out of the way, those with babysitters to relieve began to make their excuses. It was the only perk of having children that I could see, so decided to slip out with them in the rush for the door. I rang for a taxi and started to gather my coat and bag.
“Harry!” the Fat Kontroller called and beckoned me over. Thankfully, Shazza was nowhere to be seen. If there was any justice in the world then I hoped she’d laughed herself sick and was puking her ring up in the toilets. “Leaving already, are we?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m driving up to mum and dad’s tomorrow,” I lied, “early start, you know.”
The Fat Kontroller looked at me kindly. “You handled that very well, Harry. That was very naughty of somebody. Are you getting a taxi?”
“Yeah, it’s on it’s way.”
“Here,” he said pulling fifty pounds from his wallet. “Shazza!” he boomed and mouthed the word ‘receipt’ to me.
Shazza appeared from thin air again, still grinning at her prank. She was obviously not the complete air-head I’d supposed her to be. “Yes Mr Kontrell?”
“You know where Josie lives. What’s the address of our missing HR manager? Harry here is going to drop her secret Santa gift off on the way home, aren’t you Harry?” His eyes twinkled.
“Yes,” I informed Shazza slowly, following his cue. “I’ll take HR Josie’s gift to her and tell her all about it. Let her know exactly what she missed this evening.”
Was that a gulp from Shazza? I hoped so, but I was too excited at the opportunity that had suddenly presented itself. I would get to see Josie and give her my gift. I might even get a cup of coffee for my troubles. I played it cool and strode off to collect Josie’s superbly wrapped gift, whilst the Fat Kontroller handed Shazza his pen and a discarded cracker joke so that she could write the address down.
We bade farewell, wishing each other a happy Christmas, and then I left to wait for my taxi…
*******
Don’t miss the exciting conclusion to ‘Secret Santa’, which follows on in just a bit…
*/lights up fag and waits nervously… You know, Clicky, if this was on telly there’d be adverts now… /drags… Perhaps I should mention The Underdog Anthology and Cultish… /blows smoke… What do you think?*
Oh! */looks embarrassed…* Excuse me, Dear Reader */wipes chin…* I’m afraid you’ve caught me tucking into a giant crumpet…
*Oi! You’re to stay below the rainbow snowflakes, Clicky! /squint… Cade’s provided a wavy wall of words for you to splash about it… /scoops up stray gloop of butter and strawberry jam with finger… Go on, go splash… /sucks finger…*
As I was saying, Dear Reader, my Okie Devil chum from Texas has penned another missive for you, which you will find below. I’ll just let you get on with it whilst I’ll finish eating… */small burp…* my enormous toasted treat. Enjoy!
*/loses rag… I shed bellow, Kicky… /blows crumbs…*
*******
As I continue on my journey down the ladder to Wizardom, or, Wizard-dumb, as it were…I can’t help but wonder…
Q: Where exactly did this motherfucker begin?
A: ?¿?
I mean, were supposed to be good at shit right? Experts. Wizards. Geniuses. Masters. But we start at zero right? Then work our way up from there? If I was EVER at fucking zero, I’ve long since been kicked off that fucking ladder of ascension, that I have descended so fucking far that no one even knows that I’m there. Just kinda…chillin’…seeing where this shit goes. I mean, they do say that you pass the same people on the way down that you do on the way up. But what if you are a total dumbass like me? Did they give me some kind of grading curve, and start me off at a level that was so far advanced and beyond my abilities “just to help a brother out”…that I had nowhere to go but down? Not that I mind going down on an available female when available…but yeah…when does THAT ever happen? Not that you would know or anything.
But I digress.
So I watched part of a documentary yesterday on GMOs and Monsanto and other popular corporate whipping post types of companies that are fucking around with this shit…when I got a text message…
------------------------------
Y: Hi ya!!!
Cade: You smoking pot?
Y: no smoking pot against the law
Cade: Weird. Illegal plants. Doesn't bode well for GMOs eh? ;)
Y: Not so much.
------------------------------
I guess what really fucking blows my mind, is remembering why I stopping “researching” shit like this in the first place. First, the documentarians and opponents were always ranting at some public protest or rally sounding as if they are ready to grab some torches and a shitload of gasoline, and burn the whole fucking planet down. The proponent are, as usual, mysteriously absent because they refuse/decline to be interviewed and/or are always shown through government channels of being approved for this that or the motherfucking other, or through some sort of documentation from lawsuits or patents or some shit…shrouded behind the laws of commerce through government(s). Ironic that everyone is trying to look under each other’s dresses when pornography is so readily and freely available on The Internet and elsewhere.
The fact that companies are now claiming ownership to plants? Genetically modified and sold as seed and or ready to plant plants/seedlings, or other “spread via natural processes” in neighboring fields via whatever process led to the germination of seeds in proximity to “other man-made processes”…um…I am really REALLY fucking perplexed here. But I’ve been snaking my way through Afghanistan and Turkey and Russia and Europe and North and South America, tracing the flow of certain plants and certain plants’ certain extracts and whatnot…and I’m seeing so many patterns, that I’m not sure what to make of it all other than the obvious.
Think: “Air America” and similar types of channels to be swum or being swum.
Q: When you swim in certain channels and in certain waters, what kind of a fish does that make you?
A: !!!¿?¿?¿!!!
Won’t be long till you own the entirety of The World/Earth/Terra eh?
As we continue to observer the obvious…it would appear to remain obvious that everything is connected. Even when isolated and/or hidden. It’s still connected, it just connected to the disconnect section of connections.
Lemme stop right there for those who aren’t reading this shit anyway…
Q: What is NOT…”materials science?”
A: ???
Still remembering the observer(s) and time(s)? I sure as shit hope so. Because so far? I can only see one thing that appears to have been designed to last forever. And as far as I can tell? Even that wasn’t designed to last forever. Not in it’s current and present state anyway. That said, there still DOES appear to be that mysterious “data retention” aspect of The Universe that is so fucking self-evident, and so fucking elusive, that it has to be there. I mean…if it isn’t…
Q: How are we having this conversation?
A: I have some/a pretty goddamn good idea(s).
Weird...Eh?
So yeah…had some more “Earth Shattering” types of revelations/discoveries yesterday and last night, but I can’t write about them here. Why? Um…I’m trying to keep this poor lady’s sanity in mind with respect to just how fucking much babbling I’m prepared to subject her and her own personal blog to. She asked me to write, I was/am flattered, so I’m writing. That said, I don’t wanna disrespect her territory. Just like I didn’t want to disrespect the whatchacallit forums territory. Nor do I try and disrespect any of the blogs or whatever that I comment at’s biz. But I do find it ironic that many of these people and their sites champion the notion of being “crusaders for asking the hard questions”…yet, when it comes to taking the “hard questions” themselves, they tend to be kinda limp and/or wishywashy. Waffley even. I personally think that there is a difference between confusion/being confused and willful dismissal and/or rejection as to the validity of questions and comments and observations. Yes. Difficult questions are difficult. Maybe the difficulty is more widespread than you give it credit for. So widespread, that it may even be evasive and elusive, because you refuse to accept it when it is dropped right in your fucking lap.
Simplify.
Maybe if you take the “difficult” out of “difficult questions”…you’ll just have “questions.”
That “cult” part is more revealing sometimes than it seems eh?
The “diff” between “cult” and “difficult”…may be the questions about questions themselves.
(clever pun goes here...AVERTED!!!)
The video below is the kind of shit that really blows my fucking mind.
Q: How much “nuclear fuel” was actually in this “cask” when this rocket power train smashed into the test truck+cask?
A: Lemme guess…zero.
Kinda…nullifies your result(s) eh?
Q: Who/what else, was missing from this “test.”
A: Is the answer…everyone and everything that was?
Now. Let’s think about time and times over time over time over times. (Seeing as how you fucks are stuck in this goddamn “interdimensionality” bullshit with no regard whatsoever for any of them at all, let alone “the now” in that whole fucking train wreck of a theory that I understand better than most at my own fucking peril….
Q: Do you test every single “nuclear fuel cask” in this way before sending them out into the world?
A: Why not?
I dunno. Maybe a damaged cask would be better out in “the real world” than a brand new “built to precise specifications” cask would be. They sure as shit ain’t routing any “nuclear fuels” through your gated communities are they? Fuck it. If you are gonna ship that shit through my neighborhood every fucking day without my knowledge or consent? Gimme a leaky fucking container. At least that way? When something bad happens? We won’t have a securely sealed ticking time bomb sitting out in my front yard for the next 600,000 years that no one knows what the fuck to do with, because the “nuclear fuel” is so goddamn agitated from the whathaveyou, that it can’t be moved for fear of making the goddamn thing explode.
Chernobyl?
Fukushima?
Gasses? Fluids?
Liquids?
Seepage in? Seepage out?
Tides?
Times?
Legacy?
Legacies?
I dunno. I gots no answers.
Just a shitload of really irritating questions, and a metric fuckton of time in which to ask them.
Noisy.
For those who may be reading this shit, who are or are not unfamiliar with “my” formula…
∞ = -1 + 0 + 1 = ∞
Think of it like this.
1 = The largest large number.
-1 = The largest small number.
Q: What does that make “0”
A: Big.
And if you think THAT is big…you ain’t seen “nothin” yet.
*CLICKY! /peers up and sighs… CLICKY! YOU CAN COME DOWN NOW! /waits and mutters… I should have known… exactly the same as over at Sync Miss… /cups hand to mouth… CLI-*
*-KEY… Oh there you are, you great lummox! Come on, put the timer on and we’ll go to bed… What? …/listens… Yes of course you can come back again tomorrow and splash about some more… /shakes head with bemusement… You’re doing the fucking early shift, Clicky – I’m having a lay in…*
Dear Reader, since Sync Miss For Him disappeared a week or so back, I’ve been missing my friend, Cade’s, daily witterings. So I’ve asked him if he wouldn’t mind posting some of them here at the LoL. He’s still tarting about as to whether to or not… */rolls eyes…* but yesterday he did email me a missive for you – see below the rainbow snowflakes. Enjoy!
*******
O HAI!
My name is Cade FON Apollyon. Or CF Apollyon. Or just…Cade. Or Apollyon. Or whatevz makes your boat retain it’s proper bouyancy, motion, and personal directional coordinates.
Last night, I was wearing my wizard cap and robe that I do not own, and gazing into my crystal ball that is still on backorder…when it came to me. A secret message, via secret communication(s) pathway(s), otherwise known as email. Now, we all know that these days? There is nothing secret nor sacred about email communications. “We The People” must protect “We” against “The People.” Otherwise there…might…be…trouble! And what better way is there to protect “We The People”…than to remove all of the protections from “We” and/or “The People”…depending on present “We” and/or “The People”…present company excluded. (If ya know what I mean…HINT HINT….NUDGE NUDGE…WINK WINK!!!) Har har har and a tee hee hee.
SO LET'S GO MOTHERFUCKERS!!!
To make the above partially make more sense-ish…for those who may not know what the flying fuck this here shit is all about, lemme tell you what it may or may not be about instead.
Once, Upon A Time…
There were some forums that I refer to as Whatchacallit Forums, otherwise known as…
Synchromysticismforums.calm (replace “.calm” with “.com”…and you aren’t there)
They aren’t there anymore, but yeah they kinda are. Long story…NE WAY…
Um…they aren’t there as of now, and I did some writing over there that one or two people appear to have read, and liked some of it for some reason. One of those people, is the owner of this here blog you iz readin’ right nowz!!! And she, being the complete dumbass that she is, asked me, the dumbass that I is am, if I would like to write some of my shiznit and she’ll post it here at the LoL…otherwise known as Library of Libraries blog or whatevz and shit like that.
LOL…she’s stupid.
Goddamn. I sound like a raging fucking militant revolutionary.
Anyway…so yeah, with respect to the forums, someone took them down recently, and the current owner/operator of the site says she does not know who did it. I’ve tended to be forgiving in the whathaveyou, because the original owner has been lurking there recently, and he don’t sprecken zee English real fuckin good like I dooz, cause he’s from some European shithole where they sprecken…some other language or some such shit. He’s prolly a Chinese hacker stealing megahurtz from pee-poles CP-ewes machines for the glory of the viva la revolution! or some such shit. Or…he could just be helping the non-computer-savvy current owner with a migration and has had trouble explaining some shiznit to her/them. I guess I reference “Meet the new boss…same as the old boss” and could put The Who’s song “We Won’t Get Fooled Again” here…but I’m not going to. Have a listen anyway.
Life is confusing.
Cept when it ain’t.
Just sayin.
So yeah, Roob of this here LoL place emailed me last night and was like “would you like to write some shitnit, and I’ll post it here?” And I was like “lemme think about it.” And I’m still thinking about it, but I think best when I am writing, whether it be music or text, cause it keeps the confusion to a maximum and allows my mind to relax and decide how best to proceed. But that’s just me. I’m weird like that. The more complex I make a simple Boolean “YES/NO”…the easier it is for me to think. Weird eh? I really don’t know what my decision will be, but I guess it will keep my mind headed in the direction I want it to go, in conjunction with where every other motherfucker on Earth/Terra thinks my mind should go…and we can go from there. There’s that nasty, nagging fucking “WE” shit again. Goddamn…I must have mental problems of some sort. Major mental problems. Majorly maximum to the extreme on STEROIDS…mental problems…or some shit like that.
I’m gonna keep using the format I used over at whatchacallit forums, and we’ll see how ugly as motherfucking shit it looks, and then Roob can change her mind and be like “WTF YOU STUPID ASSED OKIE FROM TEXAS WHO AIN’T IN KANSAS ANYMORE!!!” And then she can decide to say like “FUCK THIS SHIT!!!” and or not, then decide what to do herself on her end. Cause I tend to be long winded without saying jack-shit, and she is a smart and proper English Lady, she’s married to a proper English Gentlemen, and they have two proper Soccer Hooligan Lads for sons, and I’m like Mr. Manfrentengensen from A Fish Called Wanda, cept with less WWII/Vietnam/War references…even tho I did work for the CIA at one point in my life.
(ya srsly)
So yeah…let’s get this party started or some such shit. I’ll keep thinking, and let you know what my decision is. When you know…I’ll know. And when you know, and I know…we’ll know…ya know?
There’s that fucking “WE” shit again goddamnit. Albeit a “WE’LL”…but there’s a “WE” in there somewhere. Or course, there is a “WILL” in there as well. And where there is a “WE” and a “WILL” and a WELL”…well…someone prolly got dropped into a fucking well, and we”ll be reading a will at some point. BTW…I would be the motherfucker that got dropped into the well…so ya’ll will have to read the will on yer own…k? 😉
4 days until Christmas. 7 days past that until the 24 hour countdown till the New Year. 2017 is on it’s way. Just like it was back on January 1st of this here then new year of 2016. Of course, 2017 was also on it’s way back on December 31st of 2015, even before the year of 2016 got here. Weird how that works eh? So yeah, a 7 day countdown, to the 24 hour countdown until each and every swinging dick on the planet has rung in the new year. I wonder how women count? Prolly like everyone else, with more of less impressive and/or numbers of pendulous bodily appendages. Not that I’m counting or anything. I’ll let ya know what my decision is when I make it.
Ya’ll go get laid or something. Just stay away from that swill ya’ll Limeys call “beer.”
Do ya’ll get Coors/Coors Light beer over there?
Import laws got ya down/keeping you down?
Meh…I hate beer that looks like something you already ate.
*Meaty… Yeah, his posts are definitely meaty, Clicky… /looks at naked wrist… Crikey! Bedtime… can you put this on timer for me? …/pat snout… I’m off to bed… /stretch and go…*
…but, yeah.
Library of Libraries 