Posts tagged ‘laugh’

Hot water

A few short years ago Fry & Laurie might have pulled off a sketch taking place in a cafe:
Hugh (as a reporter with a hand microphone): “What do you say to the allegations that you use thermally agitated dihydrogen-monoxide in your drinks?”
Stephen (as wait staff): “No, absolutely not. It is appalling that you would even think so.”
We would’ve laughed, next segment comes on, a vox pop with Stephen in a wig “The problem today is a lack of education. It’s hot water.” more laughter, moving on.

Today, if you confront a “Barista” (a made up job, if you ask me) with the same “allegations”, they would drive on about working “chemical free” using only “organic ingredients for their beverages” blablablaaaa…

Life, it seems, has become satire…

Take from this what you like, laughter, or dead what else these morons influencers don’t know about the world. Something in between.

However.

Take care, A.

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The wheels on the bus…

The other day in the bus:

I had just picked up my son from kindergarten, the bus had stopped at a red light and bus stop, the light turned green, we moved on, however, one car in the lane next to us honked at the driver in front of them to get moving, my son turns over in the direction of the honking car and yells for the entire bus to hear: “Stop with Tutu, or I’ll set you on fire!”

What is the correct parental response to this?

A high five?

Asking him where he picked THAT up?

Turning on Rammstein – Benzin?

I don’t know whether to be a proud dad, or to be worried. I don’t even know how to feel about this. There’s a delighted joy, there’s pride, but also worry and a bit of shame. (The people on the bus heard, they laughed, but surely also judged.)

FYI, I went with laughter, imagining a high five, and then asking him where he picked it up. He claimed he taught it to himself, that he’ll take a candle and burn the car…

Take care, A.

Odd encounters

So I was going to relieve myself in this restaurant’s loo. 

Standing there ready to do what I came there to do, I feel the empty, judgmental gaze of a hollow eyed skull, weighing down heavy on me.


Above each of the three urinals hangs a deer skull, staring down, empty, hollow and filled with both dust and disgust. 

It had died, so it could watch you pee, for all eternity. The ultimate, and may I say, deserving, fate for an animal that doesn’t run when a car is speeding towards it.

May the lord have mercy upon their oh…he won’t.
Take care, A.

Superfoods!

I don’t know whether I have already presented my disdain – full on hatred is more like it – for this despicable garbage that is “superfoods”, if so, here we go again, if not, here we go.

◆First off, the people who birthed the term and continue to pass their stillbirth around like a real baby, are the sort of people who name(d) themselves after a fruit that evolved to be eaten by giant ice age sloths, and giant ice age sloths alone, and which is around today simply because ancient humans have cultivated that fruit after they had hunted the giant sloths to extinction – aka, the fruit was the bitch, the giant sloth its pimp. We killed the pimp, and became the bitch’s new pimp instead. People who call themselves after such a weak and unemancipated fruit, should not be allowed to birth any new terminology. 

◆There is no such thing as a superfood. If there were, EVERY human in the history of mankind would know about it, and eat it – with added vanilla taste and as a fish-milkshake.
Every religion would praise it as heavenly/divine shit, despite the fact that the infidels of the other religions (and the atheists) do so too. Every leader – including super racists – would’ve endorsed it, every zealous third-wave feminist would love it, despite the patriarchal (ab)use of “this feminine superfood”.
This isn’t happening at any point in history, what does that tell you?

◆”But, but, but, the western world only now discovered this edible treasure of ancient asian/mezoamerican culture!!!!” But, but, but, Asia traded with Europe throughout history, some medieval, or even ancient greek, discoverer would’ve gotten wind of the pussball berries. After the rapingdiscovery of America some schmuck somewhere would’ve returned with those ratdung-seeds, and we’d consume it daily since the fifteen hundreds. Hasn’t happened. Why?
Exactly.

◆Financial interest. Apples are as much a superfood as those fancy mice droppings from the Mayans, or some berries from central Asia. Fibres, vitamins, energy. But the ice age remnants did not elect this to be their superfood.
Why?
Not fancy enough, not enough money in it. Import that funky snot-berry mousedropping-seed and there’s money in it when you resell it as a superfood.

◆In some weird parallel universe, where the laws of physics do not exist, or work grossly different than here, there may be an odd, misshapen, world where terms that are non-descriptive of reality – like superfood(s) – have a rightful plafe of existence.
But not here.
Here, using this word in a sincere manner, shows just that the user of this, is a cranial ascetic, deprived of any rational thought, completely submerged in nutrional nonsense and woo.

Conclusion:
There are no superfoods.

Take care,
A.

Life ain’t that hard, elections.

There has been an election in my country recently, I’m sure you heard.

I am not here to comment on the outcome, there are far better qualified people to do so. 
But I had the opportunity to observe insanity take on a new form.

No not the candidates whoring themselves out at every possible opportunity, nor the fact that one looks like a molding armadillo the other like a skinned weasel greased in oil.

It’s people taking pictures of their ticked (marked) ballots and posting them on social media!
So they are not just partaking in a democratic process, but also in mindless self-affirmation – getting “Bravos” from like minded folks, and pissing off the community of the opposing side.
Some even took the sweet time to strike through the other candidate(s). Wasting their own time, that of the people waiting to get into the voting booth, that of the people sitting there who in the end would have to count the clumsy attempts that made it impossible to scan electronically and have it counted that way.

Look people, life ain’t that hard, even in when voting in an election. It’s rather easy, here:

0. If you live in a proto-dictatorship you have to register to vote instead of being eligible to vote by default.
1. Go to the place where you can cast your vote. (Note: In a free and truly democratic country you need to show your ID to prevent voter fraud.)
2. You get a ballot and an envelope to take to the voting booth. (Note: No booth? Call inter-/national TV News, a booth will magically appear.)
3. Tick the box/circle next to the favored choice. Mostly there’s more than two choices (except in proto-dictatorship countries or special elections), so make sure you actually mark the right one.
4. After stuffing the ballot into the envelope, leave the booth and put it in the locked ballot box. (Note: if the lock is missing, or open, call inter-/national TV News and the police, take pictures of it, mail those to newspapers!)
5. You’re done! Take your ID, and the great feeling of having participated in a democratic process, go home and reward yourself with some icream or a prolonged jerk-off marathon.

No snapping pictures of your ballot. No drawing or writing on your ballot.
No anything except the TL;DR version of above list: Go in, tick a circle, stuff in box, leave.
Saves you time and effort, saves those coming in after you time and nerves, everyone wins.

Please do note: You can of course watch the first election results trickling in on the special news shows that day, but let me ask, why the hassle?
You have cast your vote. Everything else in this election, is now OUT OF YOUR HANDS!
Take a drink in a fancy bar, go out and eat, visit a brothel, inspect the crawlspace of your home. Have fun, or be productive.
But don’t sit there like a moron and watch the results as if you had to leave the country with hastily gathered belongings otherwise. If it has come to that point a wise person would go to vote, and then leave the fountry preemptively.

The next day, or two days later, the results will be final. Your nerves have not been stressed out, you had a relaxing day, and can take the news more relaxed that the shitheads you least wanted almost took over.

Take it easy. Life ain’t that hard.

Take care,
A.

Crappy Birthday, literally, May 2016

Finally a useful gift. Somewhat.
You’d have to buy this shit in stacks to have a plentiful supply of Shitpile emoji masks for your relatives, friends and acquaintances.
No wrapping, no ceremonial exchange, just enter the room (party) with a disdainful expression and slap the shit emoji mask on the recipient, telling them and everyone around you what you think of the jubilant.

(Hint, you think they’re shit!)

Alternatively, you can wear the shitmask every time you visit/see them, to make them as uncomfortable as possible. Imagine the endless opportunities here…
12.99€ well spent.

http://www.amazon.de/dp/B0144OD8RY/ref=tsm_1_fb_lkKill yourself.

Life ain’t that hard, communication

There are many things segregating the peoples of this earth. Culture and religion are two of the more deeply rooted ones.

Then there’s communication. 

It separates people from the same culture, religion and, yes, even the same fraking language.

Sugar coated, silver tongued words are incomprehensible to simple blokes (like me). Religious, bloated texts from the bronze age, are incomprehensible (and thus “true”) to anyone who lacks critical thinking.
The slang from the “ghetto” is nigh incomprehensible to the uptown folk.

But that isn’t what I want to adress here.

It’s the following shit, as usual with my solutions to the issues at hand:

■Emoji – Look, if you need to express yourself with god damn pictograms, move to ancient Egypt, or the Mayan Empire. If you need to ‘enhance’ your communication with those pictograms, you lack some essential communication skills, and should be forced to sit with your mental peers – in preschool.
■Failures at their native language – if you can’t make heads or tails of yojr native language (like “there”, “their” and “they’re” as well as other homophones), we get to beat your head with heavy thick books. Thesaurus, dictionaries, books with lots of words (and sentences, paragraphs, etc.) and no friggin pictures anywhere. (Afterwards you must read and study them!)
■Euphemisms – if you use terms that have no real world equivalent (“negative cash flow position” = broke; “fursona” = clinically insane; etc.), or any form of uber political correct language, I am going to cripple you.
And rightly so.
■Euphemisms II – in general, if you sacrifice comprehensibility on the altar of fancy speech, you lose. A small base is surely willing to follow you on your newspeak way, but the majority, isn’t. On occasion you troglodytes may utter a brilliant thing or two, but no one can understand your weird lingo!
■I don’t think it means what you think it means – You people keep using words without knowing what they mean. Before you believe someone hurling words at you that (should) scare/impress you, check those words in an actual dictionary, especially if your first impulse is to believe, or worse, repeat them (to others)! Unless you want to one day be beaten with said dictionary, in addition to making yourself look like a dumbass.
■Factcheck – if the words are used in the right context, please, before you spread factually inaccurate garbage, check the claims made in your communication. Don’t make up claims yourself. In case you don’t fact check or make up crap, it is YOU who looks like a dumb fool.
■Picture madness – if you only (or predominantly) convey shoddy information as (ill spelled/grammatically wrong) text in an image with a pseudo spiritual backdrop and imagery (or a “quote” with a picture of the “quoted”) your way of communicating is crappy. Stop communicating. At all.
■More language torture – writing in abbreviations or contractions. U kno m8? I will personally track you down and beat you with first grader books until you poop the reading rainbow! Read books, write like an adult!
■Decorations? – Did you notice this wird chicken scratch thing I keep inserting in my text? “,” – it’s called a comma. It is your friend. Use it. I may not be perfect, but I’m afraid I am better than thou, because I have had to sit through texts without any comma. Dear people who do not use commas: I will stab you in the eye!
■Signatures – I understand the need of E-Mail signatures. Inserting your contact info at the end of your Mail is common place. I do it in my private E-Mails with my social media gobshite, and at the office with the usual crap (Telephone, Fax, etc.) But if you add a disclaimer about third-party usage and so on, that is LONGER than your typical E-Mail, it’s obnoxious. If you add a passive agressive message (with hiroglyphs?) about your insecurities and selfrighteous ramblings about your life’s choices, I WILL find you, and I WILL hurt you.
■Phones – Short consise exchanges of Information. That’s what a phone call sbould be. The technology enables us to send a WHISPER around the globe, so, DON’T YELL!! You have a cellphone, pick up. If I repeatedly call and can’t reach you, I get to take away your cellphone and get you stuck with a landline again. Just so I can strangle you with the cord.
■(Tele)Fax – Stop using this out dated technology. Just stop. And if you insist on uaing it for some outlandish, primitive reason, make damn sure you have the right side facing the scanner, you wouldn’t believe how many empty faxes I have had to endure in my work.

There, was it really that hard?
Didn’t think so.
Now, get going in correct communication.

Take care,
A.