Crap-O-Matic™
It was a lonely Sunday morning and Sandy was sitting on his couch. His mind was glued to the blur his unfocused eyes cast on his retina. He admired that blur. He was wearing red checkered boxers and a white vest with three holes in it. It was 10 AM and Sandy had moved only once in the two and a half hours since 7:30. At 7:30, he had parted his thighs a little so that his fingers could scratch his balls. His bored love for his retinal blur was a fortress behind which hid a secret anticipation.
Sandy had not slept a wink in the last forty eight hours because he was waiting for his teleshopping delivery to arrive. The black, sleek and 'lite' edition of the Crap-O-Matic ™. Sandy was filled with warmth just at the thought of the arrival of the Crap-O-Matic ™. Because from that day on he wouldn't have to flush an empty commode everytime he visited the toilet. His ecological guilt would not torture him for wasting all that water.
The Crap-O-Matic ™, as seen on TV, was a ring the shape of the golden throne seat. One had to place it over the seat, where it fit, and then sit on the Crap-O-Matic ™. This is how the TV commercial described the magnificient device to have worked. The more the pooper controlled his or her poo pressure, the harder the Crap-O-Matic ™ manufactured poop. Sensors were planted on the upper surface of the Crap-O-Matic ™. The sensors determined the pooper's poo pressure control by gauging his or her blood pressure, the tightness of his or her ass clench and a variety of other factors which the manufacturers did not reveal because it was a trade secret. The more number of times had Sandy watched the commercial, the more he had desired the technological marvel that the Crap-O-Matic ™ was.
He wanted to own one so bad. He sold his television on ebay and received the payment on his PayPal account. He then proceeded to log on to the website of the teleshopping network to place an order for the device of his dreams, for which he paid from the same PayPal account. After forty eight hours of staying awake, the morning of the promised delivery had finally come.
At 11:30, the doorbell rang. A man wearing brown overalls, that was the uniform of the package delivery service, showed up at Sandy's doorstep. The brown of the delivery man's uniform reminded Sandy of poo. The poo reminded Sandy of the tightness with which his own ass was puckered, which then reminded him of the sound of fresh poo being manufactured that he had heard on TV. He smiled for the first time in the last eleven years as he signed the delivery receipt and shut his door.
It had been eleven years since his pot had felt the texture of roughage. Even his flush tank had been feeling equally worthless recently. The two were facing a severe identity crisis and an inferiority complex the size of a small island in the Pacific. Their self esteems had hit an all time low recently. They felt like the illiterate country bumpkin housewife of a highly educated womanising slash gay city businessman. They were just not sure of themselves. But the truth is that in this metaphor, Sandy was neither a womaniser nor a homosexual. He was plain asexual or at least he chose to be one.
Sandy installed the Crap-O-Matic ™ on his toilet seat and tightened its clamps. He then proceeded to drop his boxers to his ankles and rested his ass. The moment his ass touched the Crap-O-Matic's sensors, they wen™ad. Their input was considered by the processor, which rushed into an overclocked state trying to calculate the amount of poop to be manufactured. In a matter of microseconds, the processor sent its output to the crap generator. The amount of poop that was generated was HUGE. It was the biggest dump ever.
Meanwhile, Sandy's commode exploded into an orgasm as the poo slapped along its surface. The flush tank moaned and jumped with anticipation like a ticklish woman, who hadn't gotten laid in over a decade, was blindfolded and her inner thighs were being pleasured with a feather till she felt release. A giant whoosh of a whirlpool swept away the creation of the Crap-O-Matic ™ and the two bathroom fixtures felt closer to Sandy than they ever had.
The Crap-O-Matic's first dump was so gianormic that Sandy ended up using its entire battery life in one go. He plugged the charger in and while he waited, he walked into his kitchen and made himself some toast, which he smothered with a tablespoonful of butter. Sandy glowed as he continued to devour his toast and butter with immense satisfaction while his eyes kept stealing glances at the charging indicator LEDs of the Crap-O-Matic ™.
Sandy was in love, for the first time ever in his constipated life.
The End.
Epilogue: One fine day, after eight years since that happened, Sandy just vanished. Nobody ever saw any of him ever again. When his family finally broke into his house, it stank. They followed the stench and a line of castor oil bottles into the bathroom, which had its door blown off. The insides looked like a damp cave. All the walls were brown like painted with poo and plants were growing out of it. The Crap-O-Matic™, though, was still there, just as shiney and just as new. The commode and flush tank on the other hand had a few brown spatters on them.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Mouse
So today evening, when I went to buy a 8GB pen drive for myself to make minor transfers like music/movies/tv shows when in smaller numbers, at the computer store, it also struck me that my mouse has been misbehaving, like double-triple clicking whenever it feels like. So I pick a nice, cheap (150 rupees) and simple looking mouse...
You see... simple, insconspicuous and black which kinda goes with my black laptop and its got some nice transparent plastic parts. So, I place it in place of my old mouse, pushing the old mouse into the box that this new mouse came in. Returned to my desk to plug the new mouse in and start working with it and then...
I was all like WTF! OMFG! IT'S GOT MOTHERFUCKIN' LIGHTS! My MOTHERFUCKIN' MOUSE has got MOTHERFUCKIN' LIGHTS, blue and red and BRIGHT! So now, I have to live with this bling strip club lit mouse till it starts double-triple clicking...
You see... simple, insconspicuous and black which kinda goes with my black laptop and its got some nice transparent plastic parts. So, I place it in place of my old mouse, pushing the old mouse into the box that this new mouse came in. Returned to my desk to plug the new mouse in and start working with it and then...
I was all like WTF! OMFG! IT'S GOT MOTHERFUCKIN' LIGHTS! My MOTHERFUCKIN' MOUSE has got MOTHERFUCKIN' LIGHTS, blue and red and BRIGHT! So now, I have to live with this bling strip club lit mouse till it starts double-triple clicking...
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
LOLtehrapie - We drew first LOL!
Unconventional healing and alternative therapies include the strangest of all methods. From the weird ones about drinking one's own urine to the absurd green therapy, where one has to wrap green cellophane paper around a bottle of water, keep it in natural sunlight for a week and then drink the water. But I digress.
Animal therapy is yet another fancy word that lifestyle and features magazines have gotten their eyes on. Keeping a dog around where you're training "special" children is supposed to help increase the speed at which they learn. Something as simple as having a pet around makes healing faster. Maybe the animals just make you happy and happiness helps heal faster. But what if one is allergic to animals? What if cats make you sneeze and dogs make you feel like you badly need to pee? What if the constant crotch sniffing gives you a hard on?
In which case, my zoophiliac friend, you can watch any animated film on repeat where animals smile and grin and have smart ass comebacks for anything the other animal says. Happy times. But not Happy Tree Friends. Watching them is another kind of therapy, the kind that leads to more therapy if you forget when to laugh. But if you are a part of the Venn diagram where an internet addict is intersected with a copyright anti-piracy freak, then u can has LOLtehrapie!
Those damned cute cats that once belonged to the much-hated forwards suddenly seem to make more sense when they speak in murdered English. They have their own religion. On a digressive note, someone actually translated the Christian Bible into a LOLcat Bible, all written in LOLspeak. Yes, the Ceiling Cat rested on the seventh day. There's even a LOLwalrus whining about his buckit.
People by the millions will claim that mutilating something gives them immense satisfaction and brings joy. As much as the average discerning reader will deny this, it is also called the Jungian principle of the opposites. Women, when depressed, assault their bank accounts, credit cards and tubs of chocolate ice cream with a fork. Men when depressed assault their own bodies, if assault can be used in that context, or maybe even a ball, not in that context. Both of the above species and sometimes even children assault their liver or maybe other children. Don't hide when I ask you to raise your hand if you haven't tried your best to fuck up that smiley-faced styrofoam ball. The fucker still keeps smiling, right? But I digress.
So how does LOL-ing help? LoL-ing involves multiple mutilation. A nice image of a well-behaved pet with the ugly fat Impact font. The English language as previously established. And you also get to vent your rage against fellow hoomans by pretending to be a LOLcat and writing in its voice because the tone of LOL is always hooman-deprecatory.
For example, I ended up creating the following anti-hooman LOLs on days of stress at work and in my social(?) life on the (in)famous cheezburger site. 
(Image source: Wacked from a images.google search, so if it is your cat, apologies, it is now a LOLcat)
The Cute Cat Theory Of Digital Activism. An interesting essay that I read online discussed how tools that people make to have fun with their cat and dog pictures/videos are helping activism in the digital age. This MAY be a good side effect.
What I fear... is the bad side effects. Every therapy has side effects. Drugs lead to addiction. Violence to more violence. The "special" children start to think that when one meets a stranger, it is okay to sniff their crotch. Like how women grow fat and unappealing and pages of fitness magazines come stuck together.
It is starting to feel like that story I once read where a ventriloquist ends up believing that he is the puppet. Like the emo and goth movement, I fear the oncoming LOLculture which will then be called the LOLkulchur. Humans will start thinking they're cats, specifically LOLcats. And the humans who are still humans will be hoomans and later hoomins (human added to vermin). A war will break out and the effect will be something like the classic internet viral meme: ALL UR LOLZ R BELONG 2 US! 
(Concept art, Image source: GIMPed, not Photoshopped. Random cat image from search and the Cats image from AYB site.)
So who wants to LOL Lita? Save hoomanity! Don't LOL cats! LOL Lita! 
(Image source: Lee advert on the web, LOLcapped on the cheezburger site.)
Notes:
Art idea to go with the post: The AYB intro animation done in an animated gif, but with the following script and manipulated images.
IN A.D. 2101
WAR WAS BEGINNING.
CAPTAIN: WHAT HAPPEN?
MECHANIC: SOMEBODY SET UP US THE LOL.
OPERATOR: WE GET SIGNAL.
CAPTAIN: WHAT !
OPERATOR: MAIN SCREEN TURN ON.
CAPTAIN: IT'S YOU !!
KATS: HOWZ U GENTLEMEN !!
KATS: ALL UR BASE R BELONG 2 US.
KATS: U R ON TEH WAI 2 DESTRUCSHUN.
CAPTAIN: WHAT YOU SAY !!
KATS: U HAS NO CHANCE 2 SURVIV MAK UR TIEM.
KATS: LOL LOL LOL LOL ....
Animal therapy is yet another fancy word that lifestyle and features magazines have gotten their eyes on. Keeping a dog around where you're training "special" children is supposed to help increase the speed at which they learn. Something as simple as having a pet around makes healing faster. Maybe the animals just make you happy and happiness helps heal faster. But what if one is allergic to animals? What if cats make you sneeze and dogs make you feel like you badly need to pee? What if the constant crotch sniffing gives you a hard on?
In which case, my zoophiliac friend, you can watch any animated film on repeat where animals smile and grin and have smart ass comebacks for anything the other animal says. Happy times. But not Happy Tree Friends. Watching them is another kind of therapy, the kind that leads to more therapy if you forget when to laugh. But if you are a part of the Venn diagram where an internet addict is intersected with a copyright anti-piracy freak, then u can has LOLtehrapie!
Those damned cute cats that once belonged to the much-hated forwards suddenly seem to make more sense when they speak in murdered English. They have their own religion. On a digressive note, someone actually translated the Christian Bible into a LOLcat Bible, all written in LOLspeak. Yes, the Ceiling Cat rested on the seventh day. There's even a LOLwalrus whining about his buckit.
People by the millions will claim that mutilating something gives them immense satisfaction and brings joy. As much as the average discerning reader will deny this, it is also called the Jungian principle of the opposites. Women, when depressed, assault their bank accounts, credit cards and tubs of chocolate ice cream with a fork. Men when depressed assault their own bodies, if assault can be used in that context, or maybe even a ball, not in that context. Both of the above species and sometimes even children assault their liver or maybe other children. Don't hide when I ask you to raise your hand if you haven't tried your best to fuck up that smiley-faced styrofoam ball. The fucker still keeps smiling, right? But I digress.
So how does LOL-ing help? LoL-ing involves multiple mutilation. A nice image of a well-behaved pet with the ugly fat Impact font. The English language as previously established. And you also get to vent your rage against fellow hoomans by pretending to be a LOLcat and writing in its voice because the tone of LOL is always hooman-deprecatory.
For example, I ended up creating the following anti-hooman LOLs on days of stress at work and in my social(?) life on the (in)famous cheezburger site.
(Image source: Wacked from a images.google search, so if it is your cat, apologies, it is now a LOLcat)
What I fear... is the bad side effects. Every therapy has side effects. Drugs lead to addiction. Violence to more violence. The "special" children start to think that when one meets a stranger, it is okay to sniff their crotch. Like how women grow fat and unappealing and pages of fitness magazines come stuck together.
It is starting to feel like that story I once read where a ventriloquist ends up believing that he is the puppet. Like the emo and goth movement, I fear the oncoming LOLculture which will then be called the LOLkulchur. Humans will start thinking they're cats, specifically LOLcats. And the humans who are still humans will be hoomans and later hoomins (human added to vermin). A war will break out and the effect will be something like the classic internet viral meme: ALL UR LOLZ R BELONG 2 US!
(Concept art, Image source: GIMPed, not Photoshopped. Random cat image from search and the Cats image from AYB site.)
So who wants to LOL Lita? Save hoomanity! Don't LOL cats! LOL Lita!
(Image source: Lee advert on the web, LOLcapped on the cheezburger site.)
Notes:
Art idea to go with the post: The AYB intro animation done in an animated gif, but with the following script and manipulated images.
IN A.D. 2101
WAR WAS BEGINNING.
CAPTAIN: WHAT HAPPEN?
MECHANIC: SOMEBODY SET UP US THE LOL.
OPERATOR: WE GET SIGNAL.
CAPTAIN: WHAT !
OPERATOR: MAIN SCREEN TURN ON.
CAPTAIN: IT'S YOU !!
KATS: HOWZ U GENTLEMEN !!
KATS: ALL UR BASE R BELONG 2 US.
KATS: U R ON TEH WAI 2 DESTRUCSHUN.
CAPTAIN: WHAT YOU SAY !!
KATS: U HAS NO CHANCE 2 SURVIV MAK UR TIEM.
KATS: LOL LOL LOL LOL ....
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
When you're happy and you know it...
When you're happy and you know it, kill some ants... *crush crush*
When you're happy and you know it, drop your pants... *zip, fall*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, loot some banks! *bang bang, everybody get down, this is a robbery!*
When you're happy and you know it, spook a ghost... *BOO!*
When you're happy and you know it, eat some toast! *CRUNCH!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, y' shouldn't boast! *silence*
When you're happy and you know it, lose a spoon... *WHERE?*
When you're happy and you know it, be a loon... *THERE!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, you should moon! *Victims of indecent exposure: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!*
When you're happy and you know it, be a ninja... *Aiiieeeyyyaaa!*
When you're happy and you know it, I love to singa! *About the moon-a and a-june-a and a-spring-a*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, call Jerry Springa! *Ooo, nice tits!*
When you're happy and you know it, /facepalm *slappingsound*
When you're happy and you know it, say Salaam! *"Salaam saab!"*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, bear an arm! *"Back off, I have a weapon!" kick-at-the-door*
When you're happy and you know it, show some rage *FFFFUUUU!!!*
When you're happy and you know it, come of age! *"Mom, I have hair on my you-know-what!"*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, jump off the stage! *sound of chanting fans!*
When you're happy and you know it, play a sport! *footballwhistle: tweeeett!*
When you're happy and you know it, row a boat! *singsong: gently down the stream!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, call tech support! *Please stay on hold, your call is impotent for us!*
When you're happy and you know it, you're a fish! *Really?!*
When you're happy and you know it, on a dish! *Fried?*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, don't you wish? *Serious tone: That did not make sense.*
When you're happy and you know it, roll a joint! *Duuuuuddddee!*
When you're happy and you know it, make your point! *I'm too stoned maaann!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, you disappoint! *tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk*
When you're happy and you know it's murphy's law! *Happiness is WRONG!*
When you're happy and you know it, start a chainsaw! *dhhhrrrrnnngggg*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, *bored french accent* you're so bourgeois...
When you're happy and you know it, sell your soul! *Mwahahahahaha*
When you're happy and you know it, be an ASS hole! *Eww... gross!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, don't-you-wish-your-parents-used-birth-control! *Hey! My name is Jesus!*
When you're happy and you know it, drink some rum! *Glug!*
When you're happy and you know it, spank a bum *Ow! giggle*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, suck your thumb! *squelchsuckingsound*
When you're happy and you know it, drive your car *honk! honk!*
When you're happy and you know it, into the bar! *CRASH!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it's not your car! *Woohoo!*
When you're happy and you know it, snort a line *sssnorrrt!*
When you're happy and you know it, step on a mine *click!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, DON'T STEP OFF THE MINE! *You're not happy anymore!*
When you're happy and you know it, drop your pants... *zip, fall*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, loot some banks! *bang bang, everybody get down, this is a robbery!*
When you're happy and you know it, spook a ghost... *BOO!*
When you're happy and you know it, eat some toast! *CRUNCH!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, y' shouldn't boast! *silence*
When you're happy and you know it, lose a spoon... *WHERE?*
When you're happy and you know it, be a loon... *THERE!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, you should moon! *Victims of indecent exposure: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!*
When you're happy and you know it, be a ninja... *Aiiieeeyyyaaa!*
When you're happy and you know it, I love to singa! *About the moon-a and a-june-a and a-spring-a*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, call Jerry Springa! *Ooo, nice tits!*
When you're happy and you know it, /facepalm *slappingsound*
When you're happy and you know it, say Salaam! *"Salaam saab!"*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, bear an arm! *"Back off, I have a weapon!" kick-at-the-door*
When you're happy and you know it, show some rage *FFFFUUUU!!!*
When you're happy and you know it, come of age! *"Mom, I have hair on my you-know-what!"*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, jump off the stage! *sound of chanting fans!*
When you're happy and you know it, play a sport! *footballwhistle: tweeeett!*
When you're happy and you know it, row a boat! *singsong: gently down the stream!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, call tech support! *Please stay on hold, your call is impotent for us!*
When you're happy and you know it, you're a fish! *Really?!*
When you're happy and you know it, on a dish! *Fried?*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, don't you wish? *Serious tone: That did not make sense.*
When you're happy and you know it, roll a joint! *Duuuuuddddee!*
When you're happy and you know it, make your point! *I'm too stoned maaann!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, you disappoint! *tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk*
When you're happy and you know it's murphy's law! *Happiness is WRONG!*
When you're happy and you know it, start a chainsaw! *dhhhrrrrnnngggg*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, *bored french accent* you're so bourgeois...
When you're happy and you know it, sell your soul! *Mwahahahahaha*
When you're happy and you know it, be an ASS hole! *Eww... gross!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, don't-you-wish-your-parents-
When you're happy and you know it, drink some rum! *Glug!*
When you're happy and you know it, spank a bum *Ow! giggle*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, suck your thumb! *squelchsuckingsound*
When you're happy and you know it, drive your car *honk! honk!*
When you're happy and you know it, into the bar! *CRASH!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it's not your car! *Woohoo!*
When you're happy and you know it, snort a line *sssnorrrt!*
When you're happy and you know it, step on a mine *click!*
When you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
when you're happy and you know it, DON'T STEP OFF THE MINE! *You're not happy anymore!*
Thursday, May 21, 2009
What?
A lot of my recent random rants are either suppressed or I forget before I get to a computer or they're dissolved into a storyline that I'm thinking about or they're on Facebook or the latest twitter experiment I'm running (those are the really small ones which are like one line and I don't feel like writing an entire blogpost about them).
Nevertheless, this picture deserves a mention:
My Caption: Suck it, all you Gray's Anatomy fans!
Otherwise everything else is fine :D
Nevertheless, this picture deserves a mention:
My Caption: Suck it, all you Gray's Anatomy fans!
Otherwise everything else is fine :D
Sunday, March 29, 2009
An attempt to rap
draft 1
shut up bitch, just because i'm polite
means not that i can't fuck you up in daylight
them laughing, don't mean you're too smart
you're the alpha-female in a gang full of old farts
shut up bitch, just because i'm polite
i'm takin' your shit cause i am too nice
it's not my party, no, it's not my scene
i wouldn't wanna dirty someone else's clean
day, right?
shut up bitch, you're talkin' shit
just cause i'm complacent and this is my third hit
you don't seem to make sense, you don't speak in words,
your mouth unleashes unflushable turds
(and the face is a target for potty training birds)
word?
shut up bitch, you think you're too slick
like jelly coated (pause) not donuts but dick
wait right there, the records need some scratching
(one line scratching)
your so-called claws won't work against my hatchet
in my cuckoo nest, i killed nurse ratchet...
shut up bitch, just because i'm like that
i'm self deprecatory, i know you won't know that
so i got you a dictionary, you can better at combat
of wuh-rd artillery, unlike the pregnant wombat
that you are... period, you missed that.
shut up bitch, cause i've got the mic now,
it's a phallic symbol of my masculine powerhouse
no, i wouldn't rape you even if you spread your legs
i'd practice my aiming with a crate of rotten eggs
shut up bitch, respect the last stanza,
of this cowardly rhyming extravaganza
i could take you down but i had to fight it
but you couldn't stop cause you had to shyte it
all!
[ps: 13 year old me wrote this...]
shut up bitch, just because i'm polite
means not that i can't fuck you up in daylight
them laughing, don't mean you're too smart
you're the alpha-female in a gang full of old farts
shut up bitch, just because i'm polite
i'm takin' your shit cause i am too nice
it's not my party, no, it's not my scene
i wouldn't wanna dirty someone else's clean
day, right?
shut up bitch, you're talkin' shit
just cause i'm complacent and this is my third hit
you don't seem to make sense, you don't speak in words,
your mouth unleashes unflushable turds
(and the face is a target for potty training birds)
word?
shut up bitch, you think you're too slick
like jelly coated (pause) not donuts but dick
wait right there, the records need some scratching
(one line scratching)
your so-called claws won't work against my hatchet
in my cuckoo nest, i killed nurse ratchet...
shut up bitch, just because i'm like that
i'm self deprecatory, i know you won't know that
so i got you a dictionary, you can better at combat
of wuh-rd artillery, unlike the pregnant wombat
that you are... period, you missed that.
shut up bitch, cause i've got the mic now,
it's a phallic symbol of my masculine powerhouse
no, i wouldn't rape you even if you spread your legs
i'd practice my aiming with a crate of rotten eggs
shut up bitch, respect the last stanza,
of this cowardly rhyming extravaganza
i could take you down but i had to fight it
but you couldn't stop cause you had to shyte it
all!
[ps: 13 year old me wrote this...]
Friday, March 20, 2009
Nonsensical Mockumentary
I have lost my sense of nonsense. It needs to be found as soon as possible. My (in)sanity has been suffering from irreparable attacks and all my healing potions have been consumed in attempts to write, write propah fiction that I am working on on the side (Not like it helped a lot, but nevertheless was worth a try.)
I didn't know I would ever post a proper personal blog entry on any of my blogs but unfortunately, the time has come. I wish I could carry an axe in my pocket only to fish it out at the right moment and then start attacking people. Hey, that gives me an idea, attempting to write, and documenting that attempt to write.
The Axe Murderer
In a far away land lived an axe murderer. He was so passionate about murdering people that he started carrying a portable folding axe in the back pocket, the one in which he did not keep his wallet. He invented the special axe himself. The axe murderer was rumoured to have an IQ of 190. He loved Sharon Stone though. One day, he swore upon his own axe that if he ended up killing Sharon Stone by his axe, he would end his life. He never met Sharon Stone in his entire life. He did meet another axe murderer who after sharing a cup of coffee swung his axe straight through the centre of his chest.
The End.
Hmm, not a bad attempt at all. But definitely not a good nonsensical story. For example, the story did not at any point make you go, gasp, or WTF? It was just too simple to be nonsensical. There were no interrupting aliens or surfer dudes who interrupted that coffee date and not even a poster of Sharon Stone. Let's try and modify this ghastly attempt.
The Axe Murderer
Axe Murderer, the early days:
In a far away land lived an axe murderer. He had a beautiful wife who called herself Sharon Stone. She did a few movies like Basic Instinct. Axe Murderer, yes that was his name, was so passionate about murdering people that he started carrying a portable folding axe in the back pocket, the one in which he did not keep his wallet. He wasn't that bright as a child. When he was six, he had fallen straight on his forehead and damaged his frontal lobe. One particular day when he was 16, he met a bunch of aliens who were riding motorcycles and carrying giant surfboards which had tiny blue flying saucers printed on them.
Impressed by his axe-work and getting drunk on all the human blood that flowed, the aliens gifted him the ultimate folding axe. He loved Sharon Stone though. One day, he swore upon his own axe that if he ended up killing Sharon Stone by his axe, he would end his life. He did not end up killing Sharon Stone though he did meet another axe murderer who ended up raping Sharon Stone and driving the axe through her skull. Our hero was seriously pissed and committed suicide by hanging himself on his fan.
The End.
Here's a rough visual representation of how things happened:
Now, that's fairly decent nonsense but unfortunately, it doesn't have the required brevity that is needed to transmit the nonsense over from my side to yours. Though, you may note a new development in the style by adding images which are not necessarily coherent. Among other things wrong with this nonsensical story, the sentences are longer and not as tight as they need to be. But well, Fuck you!
I didn't know I would ever post a proper personal blog entry on any of my blogs but unfortunately, the time has come. I wish I could carry an axe in my pocket only to fish it out at the right moment and then start attacking people. Hey, that gives me an idea, attempting to write, and documenting that attempt to write.
The Axe Murderer
In a far away land lived an axe murderer. He was so passionate about murdering people that he started carrying a portable folding axe in the back pocket, the one in which he did not keep his wallet. He invented the special axe himself. The axe murderer was rumoured to have an IQ of 190. He loved Sharon Stone though. One day, he swore upon his own axe that if he ended up killing Sharon Stone by his axe, he would end his life. He never met Sharon Stone in his entire life. He did meet another axe murderer who after sharing a cup of coffee swung his axe straight through the centre of his chest.
The End.
Hmm, not a bad attempt at all. But definitely not a good nonsensical story. For example, the story did not at any point make you go, gasp, or WTF? It was just too simple to be nonsensical. There were no interrupting aliens or surfer dudes who interrupted that coffee date and not even a poster of Sharon Stone. Let's try and modify this ghastly attempt.
The Axe Murderer
Axe Murderer, the early days:
In a far away land lived an axe murderer. He had a beautiful wife who called herself Sharon Stone. She did a few movies like Basic Instinct. Axe Murderer, yes that was his name, was so passionate about murdering people that he started carrying a portable folding axe in the back pocket, the one in which he did not keep his wallet. He wasn't that bright as a child. When he was six, he had fallen straight on his forehead and damaged his frontal lobe. One particular day when he was 16, he met a bunch of aliens who were riding motorcycles and carrying giant surfboards which had tiny blue flying saucers printed on them.
Impressed by his axe-work and getting drunk on all the human blood that flowed, the aliens gifted him the ultimate folding axe. He loved Sharon Stone though. One day, he swore upon his own axe that if he ended up killing Sharon Stone by his axe, he would end his life. He did not end up killing Sharon Stone though he did meet another axe murderer who ended up raping Sharon Stone and driving the axe through her skull. Our hero was seriously pissed and committed suicide by hanging himself on his fan.
The End.
Here's a rough visual representation of how things happened:
Now, that's fairly decent nonsense but unfortunately, it doesn't have the required brevity that is needed to transmit the nonsense over from my side to yours. Though, you may note a new development in the style by adding images which are not necessarily coherent. Among other things wrong with this nonsensical story, the sentences are longer and not as tight as they need to be. But well, Fuck you!
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Happy New Year
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