Standard

Posted by

Posted on

March 2, 2011

Posted under

Essays/My Intriguing Thoughts

Comments

1 Comment

On Risk: The 2010 Cast List

Hanukkah is supposed to be a joke holiday. Semantically and pedantically, it’s not even a holiday; it’s a festival. A festival that celebrates the pre-modern Israel Israelites not being slaughtered en mass (just kinda sorta slaughtered) by an occupying army.

A brief history lesson for you. After Egypt (in which country we were, quite possibly, not slaves but contract laborers or the people who did the whipping, and left because we weren’t getting paid enough), the Israelites wreaked havoc across what would be today the Sinai Peninsula, Israel, and Lebanon. And then, after settling down a bit after a few plagues that may or may not have been sent to crush the uppity Israelites by a somewhat bi-polar God, Israel had a kingdom.

And then, because if you put three Jews in a room you’ll have four opinions, the kingdom split and became extremely weak. And then, because this is the way the world works, the area was conquered several times by empires that had their shit together. One such Empire was the Hellenistic Greco-Syrian empire, the head of which decided it’d be a neat idea to sacrifice pigs in the Temple.

If you know anything about Judaism, you know that we, as a religion, have a thing about pigs. We don’t like em. They think they’re smart, they’re dirty, and I hear that they are working on the power of flight. So, after learning that pigs were about to bleed in their Temple, a group of Jews lost their shit, holed up in the mountains, and attacked armies. And, surprisingly, they won.

And so today, that’s why we have Adam Sandler’s SNL skit as the theme song for Hanukkah for everyone under the age of fifty.

Continue reading →

Standard

Posted by

Posted on

March 1, 2011

Posted under

Short Stories

Comments

Leave a comment

The Autobiography of a Street Urchin

My feets is wooden this is me last month before the constabul kicked me out of the parks

Hullo my name is Tim Timiny Cherrio Idiot and i was born nder blackfriers bridge in london seven years ago. My mum was the queen of the bridge and she had people who worked for her but then those people was beaten by the constabuls and so they ran off and me mum said ‘bloody hell’ and thats when they taked her to a place where the people scream all the time. The man with the hair what goes ‘fwump’ when you throw plush balls at it they call him a judge he told me that i was in kustodee for my own safety and i didnt have any thing to say on account of my voice not being working yet because i was a wee little child.

And so the constabuls was supposed to bring me to a family which lived in the countryside in that town they call Pighurst-on-Timz but the constabuls attacked each other because they got hungry in the car on the way over and one of them the fat one took the skinny ones chips that they took from the brown man they called a Packee. The skinny one said ‘you sodding fat bastard’ and beat the fat one up and then the skinny one took me to his house and said ‘get to work now and dont you tell no one about what you saw.’ i didnt do much work though on account of i was a wee little child.

years later i could do work and that s how i learned that moonshine the drink not the moon’s shine blows up if you throw it on a lighted match. thats also how i lost me legs and feet but the dokters at teh NHS fixed me by giving me wooden feet and legs. And thats why my feets and legs is wooden.

Continue reading →

Standard

Posted by

Posted on

February 22, 2011

Posted under

Essays/My Intriguing Thoughts, Short Stories

Comments

2 Comments

Concerning Insanity

Iiiiiiinsane

Okay, I no longer know anything about the world. Not that I knew much about it to begin with, but that’s beside the point.

See, for the last four or five posts on this site, I’ve been getting this bizarre responses. For all appearances, they seem like they’re written by a human being. They all have a central idea around which they revolve, and work on these ideas, flesh them out, by virtue of expounding on the idea. However, these posts are completely irrelevant to anything I’m trying to do with the site (lie about my life so I can joke about it) and, instead, seem as if they’re a part of an extended conversation between two people–one of whom suffers from debilitating self-hatred and fear of the world in general.

And the fucked up thing is that latter person seems, according to these insane posts, to be me.

All of these posts are traced back to a Yahoo! e-mail account and, if I’m right, they’re coming from Australia. Now, I’m taking this situation to its logical conclusion and, thus, I’ve deduced that Mad Max has Internet access and is stalking me.

The contents of each post are vaguely related to the topic of every piece I toss up on the site–“vaguely” here refers to the presence of keywords sprinkled throughout the extensive comment. For example, “On Risk” had a comment about how we should take chances and, somehow, that was what Risk was about. Well, yes, but the chances therein involve tiny plastic bits and dice.

My Neuroses post had some bizarre Greek psychological thing that I’m still not sure about, and the insanity continued from there.

The point is: I think this is spam, but as to what purpose it serves, I have no idea. There is never a mention of a brand, and the only websites it links to are flickr albums and videos on YouTube, making this the most ineffectual spam campaign ever. Of course, there is the possibility that the posts are trying to increase awareness of armchair psychology, but does that really need an increase in awareness?

So I’m deciding to treat this as the above premise: Mad Max is stalking me on the Internet. As Mr. Max is incredibly confused as to the purpose of my blog, I’ve decided that I’m going to deconstruct the latest comment. In order to make this as accessible as possible, I’m reprinting the post (after the jump) and numerating it by what I think of as the sections of the post; and, further, I will take a look at each section after the body of the post.

And so, we begin.

Continue reading →