No matter how pathetic or inherently worthless you feel, you’ve made a difference in someone’s life.
I don’t want to write much on all this school shooting stuff, because it’s grown into a topic with a million facets; from people debating the merit of mental health funding over gun control laws, to people insulting the media for sensationalising criminals. My opinions aren’t important enough to mill around with all of that, but there is something that has occurred to me, as incorrect or presumptive as it may be.
I just want to start by saying NOBODY DIED. NO ONE IS DEAD. EVERYONE IS OKAY.
Now, I was checking Facebook (because I’m meant to be packing for holiday and I needed something to help me avoid it) and I found a link that said R.I.P. [girl’s name]. I was intrigued (okay, amused) by the quastionably ‘posey’ photo that had been selected as the group photo, so I clicked onto it. It was a memorial page for a girl who had died a few days before. Now, being something of a stickler for grammar (and also, a heartless piece of shit), I started laughing to myself at some of the grammatical and spelling errors that were in the condolence comments.
Okay, when I say laughing to myself… I mean I was howling like The Joker and crying like… someone with a dead dog, I don’t know. Either way, I was laughing my fucking head off. Now, I later found out that the page was a fake, so don’t hate me too much… Although I didn’t know it was a fake when I was already laughing, so hate me a bit. Anyway, since it was, for some reason, a fake, I can share with you a short list of half quotes, and half points of interest, without earning too much derision… I hope.
Continue reading
Share this with other humans
“Aliens are real. There really was an alien crash landing in 1947 near the Roswell Army Air Field, and the United States Government really did cover it up.”
These are the claims that were recently being made by a former CIA operative named Chase Brandon; claims which are of course, entirely fictional. He asserted that he came across secret documents and photographs in a oddly placed cardboard box during a visit to a public CIA library. The infamous Roswell Incident that he is speaking off has long ago been debunked as the recovery of a Mogul balloon, and putting aside the menagerie of pop-culture traditions; sci-fi movies, conspiracy theories, and other such nonsense, the case is relatively closed.
So what on Earth (and I assure you, it is on Earth), made him come forward with these outlandish claims?
Share this with other humans
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breath free.”
This is an extract from the poem that lies at the proud feet of America’s Statue of Liberty that, when first built, served as a beacon to travellers and immigrants as they neared their soon-to-be home. It served as a symbolic gateway to a new life; a free life, where a person was able to pursue his or her dreams, with honesty and integrity, and above all, without fear of persecution or undue judgement.
In this new era however, a unseen country has arisen in the wake of the digital age; a new domain for men and women, children and adults, to express themselves, to open themselves, to find themselves; and like Narnia or Hogwarts or countless other realms of fantasy and imagination, this parallel universe is accessed via a magical portal.
Well, I still think iPads and android phones are pretty magical, anyway.
Share this with other humans
For too long have I borne sad witness to the folly of a coffee maker brewing a cup of tea. This isn’t some slap-dash, hasty, get it done fast kind of job; this is an art form. It takes time, precision, and patience. So don’t screw it up.
Start off with a decent brand. My favourite is Twinning’s. Loose leaf is good if you have the time and the inclination, but a bag can be equally delightful. I’m awfully partial to a spot of Lapsang Souchong, but for this example, I’ll give the instructions applicable to a bag of simple, traditional, breakfast tea. Continue reading
Share this with other humans
Bobo got back to the tree after a long, hard day in the jungle. He wearily climbed the vines and entered his living room, exhausted. He saw his wife, bubbles, in the kitchen. The somber clanking of pots and pans couldn’t have drowned out the sound of his arrival, and yet she didn’t turn to […]
So, I’ll try to make this brief… There may be a few tangents, and I’m really tired.
I was walking home from work tonight, exhausted after 13 hours shared between two jobs. It was about 11.45 at night and on my side of the street ahead of me was a pack of youths. I don’t know what the collective noun for hooded reprobates is really; a gaggle of chavs, a flock of delinquents? Anyway… I call them youths; it sums it up nicely, derogatory enough to convey my meaning, condescending enough to convey my sarcasm. I don’t know what age I was when I began to refer to ‘punk kids’ as ‘youths’, but I think it was around the time I once saw a 13 year with a cigarette who was so indifferent and unintelligent, that he tried to spit on the floor, as so many smokers do, and couldn’t be bothered to turn his head to the left or right, thus combined with the forward momentum of his walking meant he spat on his own shoe. Anyway, they were youths, and I decided to avoid them for some reason. They were drunk and loud and boisterous, and I couldn’t be bothered to be near them. I figured I’d just cross the street.
This is where shit went wrong.
Share this with other humans
Doc: Brace yourself, Marty. When this baby hits 88 miles per hour… You’re going to see some serious shit. Police: Doctor Emmett Brown; stop the vehicle. We have reason to believe you have stolen nuclear materials on board. Doc: Holy shit, Marty! Get in! Marty: Woah, Doc. What’s going on? Doc: Come on, just get […]
This is a story about a boy named Alexander Green.
Alexander really wanted to be a goth. Lots of boys at his school were goth kids and he thought they were very cool. He would often try to hang out with them, but they told him to go away because of his apparent love of conformity and rules. They told him that he didn’t understand. Ironically, Alexander didn’t understand what it was that he was being accused of not understanding.
One day, Alexander decided to become a goth.
--- Grumpy Comments --- 