Monday, January 31, 2005
Have I been too busy working on my book, recently commissioned by a top publishing house in London? Or is it the busy life of a nascent stand-up comedian with a routine which keeps me out every night making people laugh? Perhaps I have been in talks with a television production company about writing some stuff for them?
No, i've been sitting at home for 2 weeks playing games with my willy.
Good times.
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No, i've been sitting at home for 2 weeks playing games with my willy.
Good times.
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Wednesday, January 26, 2005
i'm on holiday, innit. that's why there's no blogging. nothing to do with a lack of interest or inspiration. hell no.
here's a heartwarming little story with an absolute killer last line to be getting on with.
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here's a heartwarming little story with an absolute killer last line to be getting on with.
1:29pm (UK)
And Then There Was One - Afghanistan's Jewish Feud Is Over
"PA"
The caretaker of Afghanistan’s only functioning synagogue – and the country’s second-to-last Jew – has died after years of bitter feuding with the only other survivor of a once-thriving community.
Ishaq Levin, aged about 80, died, apparently of natural causes, in his quarters in the small synagogue in Kabul, said his 45-year-old Jewish neighbour, Zebulon Simentov.
The body would soon be flown to Israel for burial at the behest of Levin’s relatives – via Uzbekistan, because Israel and Afghanistan have no diplomatic relations, Interior Ministry spokesman Latfullah Mashal said.
Afghanistan’s Jewish community numbered as many as 40,000 in the late 19th century, after Persian Jews fled forced conversion. But by the mid-20th century, only about 5,000 remained, and most emigrated after Israel’s creation in 1948.
According to Simentov, the last eight or nine families left following the 1979 Soviet invasion. But Levin – the synagogue’s shamash, or caretaker – stayed on, even through the repressive rule of the Taliban.
Simentov said he took up residence in the synagogue, built around a concrete courtyard in the centre of the city, after returning from Turkmenistan in 1992 to deal in carpets, but quickly fell out with the older man.
Before his death, Levin told reporters he had been jailed and beaten under the Taliban, and denounced Simentov for claiming he had converted to Islam in a bid to take possession of the synagogue.
But Simentov insists he too was jailed and beaten after Levin told the Taliban he was an Israeli spy.
He also blames Levin for the loss of the synagogue’s most sacred treasure – a Torah confiscated by the Taliban. Simentov says Levin wanted to sell the holy book, and provoked the Taliban into taking it by telling Muslim women their fortunes.
Police have said the scroll was in the hands of a former Taliban minister now believed to be incarcerated in the American military prison in Guantanamo Bay.
But the heart of the argument appears to have been control of the synagogue, which includes the two men’s quarters as well as a bare prayer room where the prized Torah was kept.
Simentov produced what he said was a letter from Afghan Jews living in Israel ordering Levin to give the caretakership of the premises. He said he felt no sadness at the passing of his sparring partner.
“He was a very bad man who tried to get me killed,” he said, grinning as he warmed his feet on a diesel-burning stove in his run-down living room. “Now I am the Jew here, I am the boss.”
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Monday, January 17, 2005
Some oldies I have remembered, thanks to my unpatented External Zip Mind, which i keep in a jar and feed plankton and erotic nightmares to:
The Themetune Uniform: Be it walking down the street in the morning on your way to the dole office, entering some jive-ass club wearing leather jacket and sunglasses in the middle of the night or simply busting some street criminals balls over your cop car, you know that any experience in life can be enhanced by activating the speakers in your clothes to play your own special theme tune as you do it. Special fancy speakers that immerse your immediate vicinty in sound, no-one will quite know just where, why or how a jazz quartet happen to be playing a furious bebop groove whilst a flute and wah-wah guitar chase eachother through the melody. and it doesnt matter because they'll be too busy thinking 'that dude is COOL'
The Doubledecker See-Thru Dancefloor: One club, three floors. Floor three is made entirely of very very very strong see-thru material, like hard glass or whatever, that can withstand a large group of people jumping up and down all over it. Floor two, directly beneath, is also made from the same stuff and designed for the same purpose. These rooms will mostly be filled by people who feel they have nothing to hide, not from any angle. Girls in short skirts, ideally. The ground floor will be mostly filled with dirty old men, unless there's a strict member's only door policy, and professional neck masseurs.
And it's not sexist - we shall extend an invitation to all the Highland Regiments to come in full ceremonial dress and frug the night away til the sporran drops off.
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The Themetune Uniform: Be it walking down the street in the morning on your way to the dole office, entering some jive-ass club wearing leather jacket and sunglasses in the middle of the night or simply busting some street criminals balls over your cop car, you know that any experience in life can be enhanced by activating the speakers in your clothes to play your own special theme tune as you do it. Special fancy speakers that immerse your immediate vicinty in sound, no-one will quite know just where, why or how a jazz quartet happen to be playing a furious bebop groove whilst a flute and wah-wah guitar chase eachother through the melody. and it doesnt matter because they'll be too busy thinking 'that dude is COOL'
The Doubledecker See-Thru Dancefloor: One club, three floors. Floor three is made entirely of very very very strong see-thru material, like hard glass or whatever, that can withstand a large group of people jumping up and down all over it. Floor two, directly beneath, is also made from the same stuff and designed for the same purpose. These rooms will mostly be filled by people who feel they have nothing to hide, not from any angle. Girls in short skirts, ideally. The ground floor will be mostly filled with dirty old men, unless there's a strict member's only door policy, and professional neck masseurs.
And it's not sexist - we shall extend an invitation to all the Highland Regiments to come in full ceremonial dress and frug the night away til the sporran drops off.
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for the love of love please put down your cocks, pick up your pricks, execute your directors and euthanise your youths, then proceed directly to here. do not pass gay.
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Friday, January 14, 2005
What about this?
The Exchange Machine: A vending machine which takes neither cash nor cards but only products. You want a new cd? Just take an old cd you dont listen to anymore to the machine, insert it and, as long as the machine can recognise it (reading the ID Tag, etc) then it will dispense you one in replacement. A completely random one that has itself been deposited within in exchange for a new one. No, there's no money in it. It's just another chance to make life better. Could be extended to take in other formats. Books and socks would be especially good for this.
Toothbrush-paste dispenser: Fill up the hollow handle of your toothbrush with toothpaste and then simply squeeze the squashy bit at the end to propel it slowly up through the business end to the brushes and spikes. You can get just the right amount in that way.
An extra sack for your balls: Mother Nature's a gracious mistress and men certainly lucked out when she gave us a lovely pair of balls to play with. But they are a bit too soft to withstand the modern rigours of use these days. Why should they have to dangle so? It would also allow mediterranean men the world over to get on with doing something more useful than publicly checking their balls every 3 seconds. All you'd do is remember that when you got up this morning, after showering for half an hour and posing in the mirror for another 45 minutes, you shaved, slapped on your cologne and put on your beloved ballsack, before going out to harass foreign girls in the town centre.
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The Exchange Machine: A vending machine which takes neither cash nor cards but only products. You want a new cd? Just take an old cd you dont listen to anymore to the machine, insert it and, as long as the machine can recognise it (reading the ID Tag, etc) then it will dispense you one in replacement. A completely random one that has itself been deposited within in exchange for a new one. No, there's no money in it. It's just another chance to make life better. Could be extended to take in other formats. Books and socks would be especially good for this.
Toothbrush-paste dispenser: Fill up the hollow handle of your toothbrush with toothpaste and then simply squeeze the squashy bit at the end to propel it slowly up through the business end to the brushes and spikes. You can get just the right amount in that way.
An extra sack for your balls: Mother Nature's a gracious mistress and men certainly lucked out when she gave us a lovely pair of balls to play with. But they are a bit too soft to withstand the modern rigours of use these days. Why should they have to dangle so? It would also allow mediterranean men the world over to get on with doing something more useful than publicly checking their balls every 3 seconds. All you'd do is remember that when you got up this morning, after showering for half an hour and posing in the mirror for another 45 minutes, you shaved, slapped on your cologne and put on your beloved ballsack, before going out to harass foreign girls in the town centre.
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AP
Strait-Jacketed Teddy Bear Brings Protests
Thu Jan 13, 7:34 AM ET
MONTPELIER, Vt. - A company that sells cuddly Teddy bears through the mail has angered mental health advocates with a special item for Valentine's Day
The Vermont Teddy Bear Co. is featuring a 15-inch bear in a straitjacket. The $69.95 stuffed animal is called the "Crazy for You Bear" and comes with its own commitment papers.
"This bear was created in the spirit of Valentine's Day and as with all of our bears it was designed to be a lighthearted depiction of the sentiment of love," the company said in a statement.
Mental health advocates believe the bear is "a tasteless use of marketing that stigmatizes persons with mental illness," said Jerry Goessel, executive director of the Vermont chapter of the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill.
I'm sorry, but this Goessel bloke must be a nutter. It doesn't stigmatize mad people at all. It stigmatizes BEARS with mental problems. If he can't even distinguish between Human Beings and Bears then he's obviously got mental difficulties of hi..oh..well, anyway, they shouldnt be withdrawn from sale unless it upsets the bears. And if they get upset, they'll let us know about it, don't worry.
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(my emboldened italics)
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Pentagon reveals rejected chemical weapons
15 January 2005
From New Scientist Print Edition
THE Pentagon considered developing a host of non-lethal chemical weapons that would disrupt discipline and morale among enemy troops, newly declassified documents reveal.
Most bizarre among the plans was one for the development of an "aphrodisiac" chemical weapon that would make enemy soldiers sexually irresistible to each other. Provoking widespread homosexual behaviour among troops would cause a "distasteful but completely non-lethal" blow to morale, the proposal says.
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One last one to be getting on with:
The Blog Machine: Did something happen to you today? Was it odd, quirky or noteworthy in some manner? Did it have a significance you feel would be worth sharing with the world? And can you really be bothered to sit down at a computer and write about it? Naaah. Me neither. Just tell the Blog Machine all about your day, close the lid and watch it churn. Thirty minutes later you will have a perfectly turned out blog entry, by turns smooth, creamy, hard, cheesy or frothy (further settings to be introduced as and when developed by the boffins back in the lab) - guaranteed. Example:
You enter:
'Pub. Beer.'
You get:
'Twas only yesterdiddly soir that I was to have befounded myself at my favourite watering hole (i forget her name. hee haw! no, seriously. It was a pub), in my favourite chair at my favourite bar in said public house of choice. So there I was having this fabulous experience amongst all my favourites and I discovered, to my surprise, that I was asked for an order - perhaps a pint of beer, even a delicious home-cooked style meal to accompany the malted hoppage. I felt, if not panicked, then incredibly flustered and anxious, so answered with the first random thought that came into my head and out of my mouth (and i'm paraphrasing here) - 'Yes'. The barman then asked me the most bizarre follow-up question I have ever had the insert adjective of choice to answer. He wished to be informed as to whether i'd like a pint of lager or bitter. I said, and im giving this to you verbatim - 'just a bit, please, because i don't think i've ever tasted lage'.
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The Blog Machine: Did something happen to you today? Was it odd, quirky or noteworthy in some manner? Did it have a significance you feel would be worth sharing with the world? And can you really be bothered to sit down at a computer and write about it? Naaah. Me neither. Just tell the Blog Machine all about your day, close the lid and watch it churn. Thirty minutes later you will have a perfectly turned out blog entry, by turns smooth, creamy, hard, cheesy or frothy (further settings to be introduced as and when developed by the boffins back in the lab) - guaranteed. Example:
You enter:
'Pub. Beer.'
You get:
'Twas only yesterdiddly soir that I was to have befounded myself at my favourite watering hole (i forget her name. hee haw! no, seriously. It was a pub), in my favourite chair at my favourite bar in said public house of choice. So there I was having this fabulous experience amongst all my favourites and I discovered, to my surprise, that I was asked for an order - perhaps a pint of beer, even a delicious home-cooked style meal to accompany the malted hoppage. I felt, if not panicked, then incredibly flustered and anxious, so answered with the first random thought that came into my head and out of my mouth (and i'm paraphrasing here) - 'Yes'. The barman then asked me the most bizarre follow-up question I have ever had the insert adjective of choice to answer. He wished to be informed as to whether i'd like a pint of lager or bitter. I said, and im giving this to you verbatim - 'just a bit, please, because i don't think i've ever tasted lage'.
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Tuesday, January 11, 2005
An M.C. Escher Themepark: Do i even need to bother explaining how cool this would be? I'm not going to, either way. And besides, wonky staircase manufacturers, flying fish and giant chessboard makers could all do with a boost in business during this difficult time of year.
Personal Sponge Tank: why do you waste valuable money on household synthetic sponge products, when you can easily grow your own? visually thrilling, there's nothing like the atmospheric majesty of a deep-sea multi-cellular animal attached to a rock as the centrepiece of any home. And it eats water for the sake of fuck. It's the ultimate low-maintenance farm animal, whether you give it tender sweet loving or horrible neglect, chances are it will breed like the Plague and provide you with an everlasting supply of firm but bouncy children, never draining your cherished pet insurance premiums.
Live-wire Computer Keyboards: For those children who have truly failed to understand grammar and spelling, perhaps the only humane option left is to electrocute them through the keyboard everytime they make a mistake. But thanks to Microsoft Office's highly intelligent and never inaccurate Paperclip Assistant, it is a small matter to write a routine that sends a small to medium dose shock of electric voltage through the keyboard to EVERY offending letter-key BUT for the correct one. It thus becomes a fun game that kids can play in teams or alone, with a concrete goal and a useful life-lesson learned at the end of it. I see synthesisers as our next step. It's a delightful musical game of skill not chance, kind of like a Russian 'Simon Says', but not fatal. And speaking of Russia, wouldnt Pavlov be proud?
Glow-In-The-Dark Breast Implants: Would function exactly as your dipped beams, but mainly indoors. Would look great with a nice string of pearls spontaneously flung over them, I imagine.
A Melon with a 2 inch diameter hole in one end of it: washed and ready to beat
In an ideal world Johnson and Johnson (how aptly named they are) would make an identical product to their so-called Baby Oil and market it under the catch-all title 'Dick Oil'. This would save most shoppers the embarrassment of buying a bottle of Baby Oil without having a baby to hand at the checkout. We will continue to hope that the Vaseline Corporation of America will follow suit with a special jar of 'Vag Slimer', functionally exact (although perhaps not as 'gummy' on the palette if possible) to their winning Petroleum Jelly formula.
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Personal Sponge Tank: why do you waste valuable money on household synthetic sponge products, when you can easily grow your own? visually thrilling, there's nothing like the atmospheric majesty of a deep-sea multi-cellular animal attached to a rock as the centrepiece of any home. And it eats water for the sake of fuck. It's the ultimate low-maintenance farm animal, whether you give it tender sweet loving or horrible neglect, chances are it will breed like the Plague and provide you with an everlasting supply of firm but bouncy children, never draining your cherished pet insurance premiums.
Live-wire Computer Keyboards: For those children who have truly failed to understand grammar and spelling, perhaps the only humane option left is to electrocute them through the keyboard everytime they make a mistake. But thanks to Microsoft Office's highly intelligent and never inaccurate Paperclip Assistant, it is a small matter to write a routine that sends a small to medium dose shock of electric voltage through the keyboard to EVERY offending letter-key BUT for the correct one. It thus becomes a fun game that kids can play in teams or alone, with a concrete goal and a useful life-lesson learned at the end of it. I see synthesisers as our next step. It's a delightful musical game of skill not chance, kind of like a Russian 'Simon Says', but not fatal. And speaking of Russia, wouldnt Pavlov be proud?
Glow-In-The-Dark Breast Implants: Would function exactly as your dipped beams, but mainly indoors. Would look great with a nice string of pearls spontaneously flung over them, I imagine.
A Melon with a 2 inch diameter hole in one end of it: washed and ready to beat
In an ideal world Johnson and Johnson (how aptly named they are) would make an identical product to their so-called Baby Oil and market it under the catch-all title 'Dick Oil'. This would save most shoppers the embarrassment of buying a bottle of Baby Oil without having a baby to hand at the checkout. We will continue to hope that the Vaseline Corporation of America will follow suit with a special jar of 'Vag Slimer', functionally exact (although perhaps not as 'gummy' on the palette if possible) to their winning Petroleum Jelly formula.
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Monday, January 10, 2005
another batch of 'It'll never works' for all you crazy dreamers out there:
Tasty Perfume: I can't tell you the number of times i've licked a girl's armpit and got a tongue-full of nasty, bitter camphor, ambergris and seal spunk. Too many. So it's about time scent manufacturers realise that, whilst the smell may be alluring enough to draw me into (bed with) any sufficiently spruced-up old hag, once inside it's a different taste-palette entirely. So give me chocolate, give me honey, give me burger with relish, fries and a shake for all i care. Just stop it with the Benzene 2-Phenlyethanol. It's (almost) enough to drive a man to cunnilingus.
Incidentally, I think by law they should have a special, genuine French Whore's Handkerchief in every cosmetics dept in the world for girls to go and smell. With a little bit of insight, they can practically eliminate those tacky odours from their own smell-sets.
Another incidental whimsh would be an edible version of those blue tablets you find in school urinals. They look tasty but boy do they not live up to their lozengey azure allure, even when you clean the piss off them first. I'm not sure what flavour I expected them to be - 'Blueish' I suppose. I hear they can isolate that now, right?
Thermometered Mugs: Tea Cups and Coffee Mugs printed with that surface stuff that changes colour depending on the temperature of the stuff inside. Possible uses? ooh, let's see:
1. being able to tell when your chosen beverage is at the right temperature for drinking
2. being able to tell when your chosen beverage is not at the right temperature for drinking.
Chocolate Drop Vitamin Pills: Talk about sweetening the medicine, why not just dip all those fucking bland tablets of goodness in very dark chocolate, just like Peanut M+M's but without the excess crusty-sugar shit? So simple and highly effective if you go the 'Revels' route and don't identify which is which. Perhaps the only way you'll ever get kids and sane adults to take cod liver oil. Count me out, though. I'm on God liver oil. That's the good stuff.
Home Fishpaster: I'm pretty sure somewhere back in the depths of the blog i mentioned the story of the deep-sea fishy, caught in a jar and brought to the surface. As the lid is released and the atmosphere in the jar depressurizes rather too quickly, the poor fishy implodes, becoming instant fish paste. On the same principle, but hopefully you'd be doing it with our freshly deadened shanty-rat friends (ie. fish) and in a safe, controlled domestic environment. So load the fish into the machine. Make it simulate the deep sea pressure slowly, to give the thing a chance to acclimatise - then hit the magic button and instantly depressurize the pasting chamber....
Et Voila - Pate de Poisson! Le Wow! Molto Tasty!
I imagine other reasonably soft animals could be induced into implosion this way. Pasting parties will surely be the next bourgeois craze for a year. At last, fondue and wife-swapping nights have a genuine rival. Write in and let me know.
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Tasty Perfume: I can't tell you the number of times i've licked a girl's armpit and got a tongue-full of nasty, bitter camphor, ambergris and seal spunk. Too many. So it's about time scent manufacturers realise that, whilst the smell may be alluring enough to draw me into (bed with) any sufficiently spruced-up old hag, once inside it's a different taste-palette entirely. So give me chocolate, give me honey, give me burger with relish, fries and a shake for all i care. Just stop it with the Benzene 2-Phenlyethanol. It's (almost) enough to drive a man to cunnilingus.
Incidentally, I think by law they should have a special, genuine French Whore's Handkerchief in every cosmetics dept in the world for girls to go and smell. With a little bit of insight, they can practically eliminate those tacky odours from their own smell-sets.
Another incidental whimsh would be an edible version of those blue tablets you find in school urinals. They look tasty but boy do they not live up to their lozengey azure allure, even when you clean the piss off them first. I'm not sure what flavour I expected them to be - 'Blueish' I suppose. I hear they can isolate that now, right?
Thermometered Mugs: Tea Cups and Coffee Mugs printed with that surface stuff that changes colour depending on the temperature of the stuff inside. Possible uses? ooh, let's see:
1. being able to tell when your chosen beverage is at the right temperature for drinking
2. being able to tell when your chosen beverage is not at the right temperature for drinking.
Chocolate Drop Vitamin Pills: Talk about sweetening the medicine, why not just dip all those fucking bland tablets of goodness in very dark chocolate, just like Peanut M+M's but without the excess crusty-sugar shit? So simple and highly effective if you go the 'Revels' route and don't identify which is which. Perhaps the only way you'll ever get kids and sane adults to take cod liver oil. Count me out, though. I'm on God liver oil. That's the good stuff.
Home Fishpaster: I'm pretty sure somewhere back in the depths of the blog i mentioned the story of the deep-sea fishy, caught in a jar and brought to the surface. As the lid is released and the atmosphere in the jar depressurizes rather too quickly, the poor fishy implodes, becoming instant fish paste. On the same principle, but hopefully you'd be doing it with our freshly deadened shanty-rat friends (ie. fish) and in a safe, controlled domestic environment. So load the fish into the machine. Make it simulate the deep sea pressure slowly, to give the thing a chance to acclimatise - then hit the magic button and instantly depressurize the pasting chamber....
Et Voila - Pate de Poisson! Le Wow! Molto Tasty!
I imagine other reasonably soft animals could be induced into implosion this way. Pasting parties will surely be the next bourgeois craze for a year. At last, fondue and wife-swapping nights have a genuine rival. Write in and let me know.
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Sunday, January 09, 2005
a few more devious devices:
The Double Toilet Seat: Dad likes to piss on the seat? Mum doesn't? Simple. Two toilet seats - one on top of the other. Dad can happily splosh away, leave pubes on the seat and do whatever he feels he has to do as Dad of the house - and in his favourite room no less. Mum comes in, tired of his crude ways and absolutely dying for a shit, simply lifts up the wee-bespattered fat-lipped mahogany bog-mouth and right underneath is another one! Clean and lovely, just like her bottom before Dad gets hold of it later.
(Which neatly brings me off to...)
Buttplug Knickers: A soft, wired front triangle that tapers off round the crotch into a small, barbed plug that is fitted snugly into the bumhole. Cures the dreaded visible panty-line AND irrational fears of anal sex. Fully machine washable.
Edible Pentops: Comes in a range of flavours and are made from chewy, durable dogbone material. Finally, the cancerless biro is reality.
Prosthetic Wrist Skin: Next time you write something important on the back of your hand, you can feel safe in the knowledge that when you get home you can peel it off and file it. A special filofax for such an endeavour can also be marketed. We could sell them in sheets of 50, make them water-resistant and flavour them like Parma Ham (for those who like to lick).
The 50-50 Saw: A serrated-edge saw that is only sharp going in one direction. In the other, it's as soft as Mother's first kiss on your balls. That way, when the Evil Woodcutter gets you and tries to saw your legs off (for how else will he keep you compliant for his weasel-fungus experiments?), you get an even chance of escape.
The Dyson Toilet Bowl: No need for toilet paper, water or Domestos, simply strap in your genitals, relax and um...maybe not, actually.
"Margerie? Get me the Patent Office!"
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The Double Toilet Seat: Dad likes to piss on the seat? Mum doesn't? Simple. Two toilet seats - one on top of the other. Dad can happily splosh away, leave pubes on the seat and do whatever he feels he has to do as Dad of the house - and in his favourite room no less. Mum comes in, tired of his crude ways and absolutely dying for a shit, simply lifts up the wee-bespattered fat-lipped mahogany bog-mouth and right underneath is another one! Clean and lovely, just like her bottom before Dad gets hold of it later.
(Which neatly brings me off to...)
Buttplug Knickers: A soft, wired front triangle that tapers off round the crotch into a small, barbed plug that is fitted snugly into the bumhole. Cures the dreaded visible panty-line AND irrational fears of anal sex. Fully machine washable.
Edible Pentops: Comes in a range of flavours and are made from chewy, durable dogbone material. Finally, the cancerless biro is reality.
Prosthetic Wrist Skin: Next time you write something important on the back of your hand, you can feel safe in the knowledge that when you get home you can peel it off and file it. A special filofax for such an endeavour can also be marketed. We could sell them in sheets of 50, make them water-resistant and flavour them like Parma Ham (for those who like to lick).
The 50-50 Saw: A serrated-edge saw that is only sharp going in one direction. In the other, it's as soft as Mother's first kiss on your balls. That way, when the Evil Woodcutter gets you and tries to saw your legs off (for how else will he keep you compliant for his weasel-fungus experiments?), you get an even chance of escape.
The Dyson Toilet Bowl: No need for toilet paper, water or Domestos, simply strap in your genitals, relax and um...maybe not, actually.
"Margerie? Get me the Patent Office!"
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Saturday, January 08, 2005
Jesus said 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone'
Mohammed is regarded as the perfect man by Moslems
So would Jesus draw paper or scissors dyou think?
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Mohammed is regarded as the perfect man by Moslems
So would Jesus draw paper or scissors dyou think?
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Fuck funny, i've been busy inventing things recently:
Black Fire: Just think of it - a nice black flame coming from a lighter, just the right shade of sinister to enhance your smoking experience. Would look great in the daylight. And rather mysterious at nighttime.
The Dryclean Dishwasher: Strap in all the cutlery and crockery, tight. Shut the door. Start the vacuum. Stop the vacuum. Start the steam. stop the steam. Remove clean plates and stuff. use the water you've saved on having a really big soup in your new shower (see below)
The Frigloo: A giant, house-shaped refrigerator you can live in. Insulate the walls on the inside as well so it's not too cold. As i understand it, a fridge cools things by passing an electric current through a couple of inert gases that go very cold. Are there similarly inert gases that go hot when electrified? We stick those in as a heating option. There will be a special, non-insulated part of the house where you can stick food, drinks and recalcitrant children. This will be known as the 'fridge room'.
The Kilnwasher: Don't bother with a dishwasher, sink and bin anymore. Just chuck all your used cutlery into one hole and your dirty crockery into another. They are then automatically ground down, food and all, into bits - more metal or plaster or whatever is then added, a choice of dyes is also introduced, everything gets very hot indeed and then somehow poured into appropriate moulds. Sometime later - hey presto - a new set of plates, bowls, cups, glasses, knives, forks and spoons. In fashionable 'flecked with food' designer styling.
A Soup Machine: Ingredients come dried or powdered in cartridges and are loaded into the machine. Connected to the mains, the water pipes and the internet - you control it by choosing any combination of flavours or a predetermined recipe. The machine does the rest. Range of flavours and materials would be vast. Orders delivery of new and replacement ingredients automatically and by past frequency of usage. You can even send your friends a soup. Space-age Pot Noodle at last.
An Omnidirectional Shower: no shower head as such. just a room with jets of water coming out from all the walls. you can choose which holes from which walls emit and which stay bunged. This includes jets coming up from the floor (and of course down from the ceiling. Who wouldnt want an upside-down shower, eh? You owe it to yourself and you owe it to your poor, long-suffering arsehole.
Free IKEA Lego Sets: Featuring reasonably accurate representations of everything they offer in-store, you take it home and play about with it until you find just what works and fits together. Another triumph for Dansko-Svenske world domesticomination.
Fizzy Yoghurt: Because...well, why not? I don't have to justify it to you. Just try it - you'll like it, i promise. (warning: contains Cowjuice Dioxide)
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Black Fire: Just think of it - a nice black flame coming from a lighter, just the right shade of sinister to enhance your smoking experience. Would look great in the daylight. And rather mysterious at nighttime.
The Dryclean Dishwasher: Strap in all the cutlery and crockery, tight. Shut the door. Start the vacuum. Stop the vacuum. Start the steam. stop the steam. Remove clean plates and stuff. use the water you've saved on having a really big soup in your new shower (see below)
The Frigloo: A giant, house-shaped refrigerator you can live in. Insulate the walls on the inside as well so it's not too cold. As i understand it, a fridge cools things by passing an electric current through a couple of inert gases that go very cold. Are there similarly inert gases that go hot when electrified? We stick those in as a heating option. There will be a special, non-insulated part of the house where you can stick food, drinks and recalcitrant children. This will be known as the 'fridge room'.
The Kilnwasher: Don't bother with a dishwasher, sink and bin anymore. Just chuck all your used cutlery into one hole and your dirty crockery into another. They are then automatically ground down, food and all, into bits - more metal or plaster or whatever is then added, a choice of dyes is also introduced, everything gets very hot indeed and then somehow poured into appropriate moulds. Sometime later - hey presto - a new set of plates, bowls, cups, glasses, knives, forks and spoons. In fashionable 'flecked with food' designer styling.
A Soup Machine: Ingredients come dried or powdered in cartridges and are loaded into the machine. Connected to the mains, the water pipes and the internet - you control it by choosing any combination of flavours or a predetermined recipe. The machine does the rest. Range of flavours and materials would be vast. Orders delivery of new and replacement ingredients automatically and by past frequency of usage. You can even send your friends a soup. Space-age Pot Noodle at last.
An Omnidirectional Shower: no shower head as such. just a room with jets of water coming out from all the walls. you can choose which holes from which walls emit and which stay bunged. This includes jets coming up from the floor (and of course down from the ceiling. Who wouldnt want an upside-down shower, eh? You owe it to yourself and you owe it to your poor, long-suffering arsehole.
Free IKEA Lego Sets: Featuring reasonably accurate representations of everything they offer in-store, you take it home and play about with it until you find just what works and fits together. Another triumph for Dansko-Svenske world domesticomination.
Fizzy Yoghurt: Because...well, why not? I don't have to justify it to you. Just try it - you'll like it, i promise. (warning: contains Cowjuice Dioxide)
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Wednesday, January 05, 2005
what a great year this is turning out to be already...
'Phantom' Flops
Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera, directed by Joel Schumacher and starring Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum, expanded into 622 theaters, but its $4.82 million take suggested that it was not likely to make back the $60 million that Webber and his partners reportedly put into it. In an article in American Enterprise magazine, Eric Cox, a research fellow at the Sagamore Institute for Policy Research, wrote that the movie, financed in large part by Webber himself, "is likely to go down in history as one of the greatest cinematic flops of all time."
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'Phantom' Flops
Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera, directed by Joel Schumacher and starring Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum, expanded into 622 theaters, but its $4.82 million take suggested that it was not likely to make back the $60 million that Webber and his partners reportedly put into it. In an article in American Enterprise magazine, Eric Cox, a research fellow at the Sagamore Institute for Policy Research, wrote that the movie, financed in large part by Webber himself, "is likely to go down in history as one of the greatest cinematic flops of all time."
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Tuesday, January 04, 2005
of course, every day is a year's anniversary since that day the previous year. so why is jan 1st so important? i dare say there's probably a real reason but since i cant be cocked to google it, i'll just state mine for the record.
if you include the 25th itself, the 1st of jan is 8 days after the little baby jesus, apparently YOUR lord and YOUR saviour, first came into the world. Like all the best magicians (Moses, Houdini, Gerry Sadowitz, um...Davids Blaine+Copperfield), he was (and remains) Jewish which means he must have been circumcised. That happens, let's see, oh yes, 8 days into life.
Aside from the more twisty, theological problems of god himself being both cut and non-cut (one presumes, since Adam was made in god's image), it seems a bit weird that 2000 years ago a little baby god got his foreskin sliced off and as a direct result we go out and pour stiff drinks down out throats all night until we dont quite die.
or maybe that's not so weird after all?
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if you include the 25th itself, the 1st of jan is 8 days after the little baby jesus, apparently YOUR lord and YOUR saviour, first came into the world. Like all the best magicians (Moses, Houdini, Gerry Sadowitz, um...Davids Blaine+Copperfield), he was (and remains) Jewish which means he must have been circumcised. That happens, let's see, oh yes, 8 days into life.
Aside from the more twisty, theological problems of god himself being both cut and non-cut (one presumes, since Adam was made in god's image), it seems a bit weird that 2000 years ago a little baby god got his foreskin sliced off and as a direct result we go out and pour stiff drinks down out throats all night until we dont quite die.
or maybe that's not so weird after all?
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another year passes, just like a clockwork calendar. it's becoming an annual event round these parts. it gives me cause for thought (at-fucking-last).
significant things that failed to happen last year:
try as i might, i failed once again to unite the Keymaster and the Gatekeeper, both of them loyal minions of Gozer*
my family miserably failed, yet again, to be outrageously murdered and i failed, in similar circumstances, to be charged with outrageous family murder
my second nob is still a 98% theoretical concept (the remainder is 1% theatrical and 1% grafted pork crackling since you ask)
girlfriend's first nob also a non-starter (although technically i'd assumed I was her 'first nob', having read her diary this year i realise that's somewhat distant from the truth)
mostly everyone i've ever disliked, despite my magical, malevolent efforts, remained unaccountably alive all year round. what kind of world is it where John Peel dies and remains dead yet Dr Fox doesn't?
god once again opted out of the 'Show Yourself' challenge. he remains unCapitalised on this blog until such time as he stops by, shares a pipe with me and provides the proper identification. only then does he get my coveted rubber-stamp of belief and a gracious admission of guilt regarding everything ive ever done up to this point in my life (including writing that sentence).
i didnt live up to keeping my promise that when i run out of things to say i'd stop the blog. mainly because i remember now i never made such a promise.
*go on, admit it - you thought that's what 9/11 was all about, didnt you?
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significant things that failed to happen last year:
try as i might, i failed once again to unite the Keymaster and the Gatekeeper, both of them loyal minions of Gozer*
my family miserably failed, yet again, to be outrageously murdered and i failed, in similar circumstances, to be charged with outrageous family murder
my second nob is still a 98% theoretical concept (the remainder is 1% theatrical and 1% grafted pork crackling since you ask)
girlfriend's first nob also a non-starter (although technically i'd assumed I was her 'first nob', having read her diary this year i realise that's somewhat distant from the truth)
mostly everyone i've ever disliked, despite my magical, malevolent efforts, remained unaccountably alive all year round. what kind of world is it where John Peel dies and remains dead yet Dr Fox doesn't?
god once again opted out of the 'Show Yourself' challenge. he remains unCapitalised on this blog until such time as he stops by, shares a pipe with me and provides the proper identification. only then does he get my coveted rubber-stamp of belief and a gracious admission of guilt regarding everything ive ever done up to this point in my life (including writing that sentence).
i didnt live up to keeping my promise that when i run out of things to say i'd stop the blog. mainly because i remember now i never made such a promise.
*go on, admit it - you thought that's what 9/11 was all about, didnt you?
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my resolution this year is to get one new fuck and one new kill every month, something i failed to do no less than twelve times last year (and if i can combine them, all the better/messier). I've also decided, since reading this...
...to be resolute in the face of international terrorism and all it's freedom-hating affiliates. This translates into the practical method of coming down quite hard on anyone who tries to impose their anti-values upon this blog. You will be detained without charge within a special extra-territorial holding pen found within this blog. It is based in heavily guarded international waters and you won't find it so don't bother trying. Naturally I wish nothing to be upset by these democracy-fucking cuntos (tm) so please continue with normal discourse. I lay down no conditions or threats but rest assured, my comments box will be monitored and anything resembling a 'dirty bomb mot' will result in un/due process and possible lifetime cyber-detainment.
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Julian Borger in Washington
Monday January 3, 2005
The Guardian
The United States is preparing to hold terrorism suspects indefinitely without trial, replacing the Guantanamo Bay prison camp with permanent prisons in the Cuban enclave and elsewhere, it was reported yesterday.
The new prisons are intended for captives the Pentagon and the CIA suspect of terrorist links but do not wish to set free or put on trial for lack of hard evidence.
"Since global war on terror is a long-term effort, it makes sense for us to be looking at solutions for long-term problems," Bryan Whitman, a Pentagon spokesman, told the Washington Post.
...to be resolute in the face of international terrorism and all it's freedom-hating affiliates. This translates into the practical method of coming down quite hard on anyone who tries to impose their anti-values upon this blog. You will be detained without charge within a special extra-territorial holding pen found within this blog. It is based in heavily guarded international waters and you won't find it so don't bother trying. Naturally I wish nothing to be upset by these democracy-fucking cuntos (tm) so please continue with normal discourse. I lay down no conditions or threats but rest assured, my comments box will be monitored and anything resembling a 'dirty bomb mot' will result in un/due process and possible lifetime cyber-detainment.
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