Message to Bloggers
The posts in the 'projects' sidebar menu are under constant update. When more than one new project is added per day the earlier project is only viewable from the projects menu. What this means is that any additions made since your last visit might not be immediately apparent.
We've added an update list so any editing or additions to an old post can be tracked but new posts will appear only on the projects menu. If you can't remember what was there from your last visit I might suggest a good hypnotist. I'm told regression can bring these things to the surface no matter how traumatic the memory.
Alternatively, try working down the projects menu until you see something you recognise.
Safety goggles are optional (but I wouldn't try it without the Kevlar Nipple Guards(tm)).
Everything You Wanted to Know About Spiders
I met this young boy the other day who had his face painted as a spider. We talked about Spiderman and other superheroes. The next day I even watched the cartoon Spiderman on television. It got me thinking about spiders.
What do you call a spider that's never been married?
A spinster.What do you call a spider that works in public relations (PR)?
A spin-doctor.Why can't spiders walk like humans?
Because they have webbed-feet.How does a spider communicate with other spiders?
By a webcam and via the world-wide-web.If you think of any, let me know and I'll them to the list.
Signs and Wonders
The other day on my bus travels I saw a church with the following sign: Signs and Wonders. No wonder there was so much graffiti on the walls. I wonder if the artist got his inspiration from the Holy Spirit. Maybe it was more of the Spirit in the bottle and less of the Holy.
In the same vicinity was a shop that called itself an emporium. I’ve heard about positive thinking, but who has ever heard of an emporium in a run down area? Who are the clients? Cockroaches and rats? Maybe I’ve got it all wrong. For all I know underneath the squalor is a secret fashion underground where celebrities get their latest designer gears. Anything’s possible. All I can say is Chelsea, you’d better watch out! You’ve got competition!
In wonder.
Enocia
Poor Blokes
I've noticed they now sell bras with fluid for women like myself who need a little lift, you know what I mean?
As if guys don't have enough to cope with. I mean, a guy goes out with a girl who looks drop dead gorgeous the night before but the next morning, she looks like a completely different woman without her war mask. Now a guy goes out with Pamela Anderson at night and wakes up with God knows what.
Reminds me of a classic scene in the film,
LA Story. Haris (Steve Martin) and Sandee (Sarah Jessica Parker) are about to have sex. Haris feels Sandee's breasts and thinks there is something strange about them. Sandee says it's because she hasn't had plastic surgery. Hahaha.
Still, I might get myself a bra. It's not my fault guys are stupid.
Hahaha.
A Revisionist Interpretation of The Story of the Garden of Eden
The following is an interpretation of the story of the Garden of Eden. Part of it is written in Cockney, which is the East London dialect. If you've ever seen the movie
Mary Poppins, it is the dodgy accent Dick Van Dyke is using when he plays the character, Bert.
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
***************
We join Eve in the garden just before she's about to eat the fruit. Pay particular attention to the moment when mankind develops their irrational behaviour. I'm going to test you after.
Serpent: Go on Eve, have it, one bite won't kill ya!
Eve: OK. Hmmm, tastes nice, tastes really good. What was the old geezer upstairs fussing about? This is delicious. Where's Adam. Ere, Adam, come over here.
Adam: What is it my beloved precious One, my dove, the Light of My Life, my Twin soul?
Eve: Oh, shut up! Come over here, try this.
Adam: My beloved, isn't this the fruit the Lord God told us not to eat?
Eve: Go on, give it a go. It's really nice. Go on, 'ave some.
[Adam takes a bite. He likes it and continues until he's finished it. He screws up his face, sticking his tongue around his teeth.]
Eve: What's that silly expression Adam? What are you like?
Adam: I think I've got some stuck in me teeth, innit?
Eve: Do what?
Adam: Dontcha know nothing? I'm gonna make summit to remove it.
Eve: Where you going Adam?
Adam: What's it to you anyway? Nag! Nag! Nag! Leave me alone. And put some fig leaves round ya, you're beginning to give me some funny ideas!
Eve: Don't leave me alone Adam! Adam, I'm scared!
Adam: Tough, I'm off. I'll be back later for me dinner.
Eve: Adam!
In the meanwhile out in the garden there are animals sitting together, lions among sheep, elephants nuzzling tigers, all the animals are at peace with the world until...the moment Adam and Eve broke the rule and ate of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.. Suddenly the lion's perception is "prey." The sheep is no longer adorable but "prey." The creature with flappy ears is now potential "prey." The woman he can see in the distance is potential "prey."
The Lord God senses something is seriously wrong when he sees a pack of lions fighting over a bloody sheep. The Lord God goes in search of Adam who is in the forest sharpening a stick.
Lord God: What are you doing Adam?
Adam: What does it look like? I'm sharpening this stick, innit?
Lord God: Why do you need to sharpen the stick, Adam?
Adam: Don't ya know nothing? I'm making a tooth pick, innit?
Lord God: [bellows] TOOTHPICK! WHAT DO YOU MEAN TOOTHPICK? HAVE YOU BEEN EATING FROM THE TREE OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL, ADAM?
So there you have it. The first few minutes when mankind fell from Grace, all because they didn't listen to the Lord God. Would you Adam and Eve it? (By the way Adam and Eve it is the Cockney rhyming slang for "would you believe it?")
Take care.
EJ xx
The Guru
I believe we all have a guru within us but some are a lot more outrageous than others. The following is a Satsang with a Guru, whose ways are far from orthodox. (A Satsang is a gathering of truth seekers).
Guru: Welcome my beloved chelas (disciples). Let's take a moment to be in silence.
Guru: Has anyone got any questions?
Seeker: Guruji, how can I find love?
Guru: Where and when did you lose love?
Seeker: I didn't lose love, Guruji.
Guru: Then why are you asking me such a stupid question?
Seeker: Guruji, I'm a genuine seeker of love.
Guru: You can only look for something you've lost. I suggest you go out there and lose love then come back to me and I'll help you find what you have lost. Next question.
Seeker2: It's a problem with my fiancée, Guruji. Since I've been on the path, I haven't wanted to have sex with her. I feel my desire is only to know God but she says she has needs. I'm afraid that if I don't comply she will leave me. What am I to do, Guruji? Is having sex a sin?
Guru: Is your girlfriend attractive?
Seeker2: Yes she is beautiful. See for yourself, here's a picture of her.
[Guru scrutinises the picture.]
Guru: Yes, she is very attractive indeed. Hmmm!
Seeker2: What do you suggest I do? I don't want to lose my fiancée as I love her very much.
Guru: This conflict you have within is going to take time to resolve, at least 6 months. I suggest you go on a retreat for 6 months and meditate. In the meantime, get your fiancée to move into my house and I'll take care of all her needs until you return.
Seeker2: Thank you for your grace, Guruji.
Guru: Next question.
Seeker3: Guruji, why is there so much suffering in the world?
Guru: What do you mean? Can you be specific?
Seeker3: When I watch the news and see all the awful things going on and I feel guilty that my life is so perfect. Why are some people happy and others living in so much misery?
Guru: So you are feeling guilty because other people are sad and you are not?
Seeker3: Yes Guruji.
Guru: Come here, closer. [Guru whacks seeker3 on the head with his cane]
Seeker3: Ouch! Why did you hit me Guruji? That was really painful.
Guru: Does that make you feel sad?
Seeker3: Yes, Guruji.
Guru: Good. Now you have something to be sad about. See, no more guilt. Next question.
To be continued
He Came (almost), He Swore, He Concurred
The following was posted on the comments section but I think it's way too good a gem not to be shared as a standalone piece. Thank you LW.
Enjoy...
"Are you coming vicar?” asked the countess, stirring her tea with the other hand.
"Mm-mm-mmm?....Aaah-AAAAGH!" ejaculated the vicar, "F..."
"Bloody hell-fire," her ladyship cried. "You spilt tea all over everything....damn lucky I was wearing rubber gloves."
The vicar, now deflated and much reddened, was blowing vigorously.
"You could dip it in the milk jug," suggested the countess, hiding a smile. "What on earth were you day dreaming about?"
"Er, a-actually er I was w-wondering what hymns would be nice this Sunday," he stammered, dabbing at his trousers.
"What about 'O Come all ye faithful?'" the countess said, guffawing into a cushion and losing her top denture. "Or..or, 'Stand up, stand up for Jesus?'". She hooted, collapsing in a fit of hysterical laughter. "Ooooh! ha-ha-ha....ho-ho-ho-ho..eeeeeeh!" She jumped up and made a frantic dash to the bathroom, holding a table napkin between her legs.
The vicar could hear her on the toilet cackling with mirth. "Horse-faced cow," he muttered, "not ladylike to make fun of my danglewurzle like that."
The countess popped her head around the door. "Right, off you go then... same time next Wednesday, agreed? We can discuss the new church roof."
"Er, yes your ladyship." The vicar made for the other door, wet trousers making him walk like one of his lordship's ganders. "Next Wednesday will be fine".
Oh, bloody joy, can't bloody well wait, he said to himself.
(c) Lincoln Wakefield
SAVE OUR STAMPS
I have recently observed the turmoil being caused by electronic email whereby personal letters sent by post is becoming a thing of the past. The purpose of this petition is to encourage more people to write letters by long-hand and using the post office. I want to see a world where people look forward to their local postie's daily round. I want a world where there is less junk mail and bills and more personal letters from friends across the world perhaps, or even in the next town. I want to see more birthday cards, Christmas cards and postcards and less electronic cards. I want to live in a world where postal workers’ sacks are laden with letters, and postal workers proud of their effort. I want a world where first class posts take at least 3 days to arrive (in London anyway).
When I first conceived of this idea to "Save Our Stamps", I decided to approach my local MP (Member of Parliament) by phone to find out whether he was interested in supporting my campaign. He actually suggested I put my request in writing and he downright refused to provide an email address for me to send my letter. What effrontery!
Think carefully before you pass this off as another unworthy cause. Think of all those postal workers sitting around bored with not much to keep them occupied. Consider the opportunities that will be created by our efforts, hours of overtime for those wonderful but bored postal workers.
My objective is to have 500 names. I would, therefore, be grateful if you could add your name on the list. Could the petitioner at number. 500 please forward this petition by email, of course, to his/her local post office.
Many thanks for your support.
Signed
1. E. Joseph, CEO of STAMP (Save Traditional Access to Private Mail)
One of those Chicken Moments
Somebody hold me back, I'm having a chicken moment. You know the one about why the chicken crossed the road, here are some possible theories:
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Down Under, they are called chooks; to avoid being included in the barbie, of course.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
He didn't like being hen-pecked at home.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
He didn't want to put all his eggs in one basket.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
He thought the grass was greener on the other side.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
He thought the road was clear until it was too late.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
That's what headless chickens do, stupid!
Why did the chicken cross the road?
The chicken crossed over to join his other spirit chicken companions on the other side.
Now stop asking silly questions and eat your chicken!
You're welcome to add your own theories.
Poems from a Friend
A WET DREAM Gawd! Where is the lavatory?
I really, really, need a pee.
My eyes are running – I can’t keep still,
My bladder’s bursting, I feel quite ill
My pants feel wet – I think I leak
Will I ever find that which I seek?
I asked a man, "Where’s the toilet, mate?"
But he had a stutter and I can't wait.
So, on I ran, that way and this,
Jeez, I do so need a piss.
Oh, my lawd- there’s one right there!
Barge through the door – knock someone flying -
Can’t stop now – I’m nigh on dying
Quick! quick – quick – can’t wait no more
It’s coming out – Ahh ! – another door!
Crash ! I’m in. I get out ‘Pete’
And piddle on my pants, and seat.
Some even splashes on the tiles
It seems to run for miles and miles.
Is that a woman’s voice I hear?
Wonder why she sounds so near
‘ He ran in here’ I heard her shout
‘And he also knocked this lady out’
Heavy footsteps – a man’s voice calls –
"Come on out, sir -
or I’ll have your balls!"
"Aw! Cripes!" I says, and with squelching shoe,
I realize it’s a ladies loo.
Then I awoke – I’m at home, instead.
Aw! bloody hell! I’ve wet the bed.
SANS TEETH I’d love to bite down on an apple
Or a great big juicy steak.
Instead of soups and puddings
And other soft things like cake,
I’d love to eat all kinds of nuts,
And lamb and pork, and beef,
But I can’t eat any of that
Because I’ve got no teef.
HER NEXT DOOR Her next door - she’s got a cat
Keeps coming to our place
Great fat thing, it looks at me
With a smirk upon it’s face.
When my missus isn’t looking
I clout it round the ear,
Well, I try to - but I can’t y’see
I can’t get bloody near.
It always hears me coming
And scoots off bloody quick.
One time I threw my boot at it
And once, a half house brick.
It catches little sparrows
And chews them on our grass,
If only I was quicker
I’d kick it up the arse.
Of course, it’ her next door, y’know,
She tells it what to do
"Tom," she says, "Go over there - and piddle in his shoe."
She don’t like me, and that’s a fact,
And neither does her cat,
But I don’t care, I’ve got more hair
And I’m nowhere near as fat.
(c)
Lincoln Wakefield
A New Message to Bloggers
To all bloggers.
I feel it is my duty to keep you posted about the following:
BlogThe modern way to waste away one's life, but bloggers prefer to call it sharing.
Blogism, Blogist Discrimination against someone just because he or she is a blogger.
One who supports bloggers.
BlogocentricOne who has a blog world view.
BlogarakThe blogger equivalent of an anorak. A pathetic person who spends a lot of his time blogging, like Kahdoosch and Shy do.
Someone who knows way too much about blogs.
Blogger! Blogging!Expletives used by bloggers to express frustration or annoyance.
BlogspotA popular blog.
Blog-DynamicsThe study of how bloggers interact with other bloggers.
The role of blogs in contemporary society.
BlogologyThe philosophy and psychology of blogs.
Blogger RightsThe rights of bloggers to have free speech and self-determination.
Blog-ArtistSurfers only interested in your blog for one purpose only - spam. Ask Shyloh, she knows of a spammer or two. :-)
I shall let you have more information as soon as I have them.
More...
Blogzilla as suggested by Snooker
A blog virus.
BlogcapitalThe amount of capital needed to set up a blog, which is usually zero.
BlogenonomyThe amount of money one could make out of one's blog...er...zilch, but I could be wrong.
More...
Blogger offA polite way to tell other bloggers to go away.
Blog-standardA blog that is just average, where the blogger can't be bothered to be imaginative, like my blog; I believe HTMLs are a pain in the blog.
Joe BlogAn ordinary blogger.
Blog-grrr (as suggested by a friend)
The telepathic communication from her cat when her cat feels she's spent enough time at the computer.
Blog <>(another suggestion by my friend JJ)
When you finally get how to work with HTMLs.
BloggermouthA blogger who talks incessantly.
BlogrollA blogger who is on the roll.
BloggleA blog with a google link. (I know it's lame, but I couldn't help myself).
Three Bedouins and a Tribunal
PALACE BUNKER: INT: DAYBunker is furnished like a Boardroom. 3 Saddam Husseins, an Iraqi General and a Concubine in a burkha sit around a large meeting table. Two guards stand to attention in the background, between them hangs an Iraqi flag. GENERAL : Ok! stop messin about. Which one of you is it?
SADDAM 2 : Hai... am he.
CONCUBINE : I hope he is, he just pinched my ass.
All 3 Saddams jump to their feet, hands hovering over their holsters. ALL SADDAMS : [Unison] I am Saddam. [Music box type tune begins to play]
GENERAL : [Counts them] Hang on! where,s the other one?
All saddams look at their feet whistling.
An Aid bursts into the room, gasping for breathAID : It's Saddam. He's in the infirmary. He sliced off his finger whilst chopping Shallots
[Points to left hand]
One of the guards steps forward. It's a Robert Mitchum lookalike. He holds a wicked looking 'YAKUZA' knife. Flicks the blade with the ball of his thumb. MITCHUM : Shall I play mum?
All 3 Saddams thrust their left hands into their trouser pockets. SADDAM 1 : If I lost a few pounds I could do Charlie Chaplin. [Holds his left hand to his chest protectively]
SOUND OVER: [CRASH !!!]
The front end of a Cruise Missile appears through the wall 'PRESENT FOR SADDAM', written in black on the side.
The Concubine removes her Yazmak... It's a Meg Ryan lookalikeMEG : You got mai...ail !!!
ALL SADDAMS : [Pointing at each other] It's for him.
S/O: [BOOM]
3 Saddams and half a Robert Mitchum exit crator leftENDScene 2HAGUE COURTROOM: INT: DAY3 Saddams stand in the dock, a small contingent of NATO representatives sit to the left. Various Courtroom officials are in position around the room. The judge presidesJUDGE: Saddam Abedneggar 'Lucille' Hussein. You stand before this court accused of War Crimes, Genocide, Breach of NATO resolutions and flicking bogeys at David Mellor on a trip to Baghdad in 1988... How do you plead?
SADDAM 3: [Turns to Saddam1] He's talking to you
SADDAM 1: [Stabs Saddam 2 in the chest with his finger]. You told him to say that
SADDAM 2: [Scouse accent] Hey Lah, wot's wiv the finger, Cum 'ead
Saddam 2 dances around trying to headbutt Saddam 1DEFENCE LAWYER: M' Lud! I call for a mis-trial. We can't try three men for the crimes of one
PROSECUTOR: A suggestion Y' ronnor. It's known that the real Saddam has an abnormally large Todger. I simple comparison might solve the problem.
One of the NATO contingent stands and addresses the JudgeU.S. REPRESENTATIVE: If I may speak M' Lud? Saddam Hussien can't be identified by the size of his Wibbledy Wand. It's contrary to NATO agreements on U.S. foreign policy.
JUDGE: I don't understand.
U.S. REP: Section HV105/P2... A breach will deemed to have occurred if unfavourabe comparisons are made between any suspected War Criminal and the size of the Presidential Hampton. Furthermore, any negative discourse, whether public or private, on the size of the President's MR Pickle will be seen as an act of Terrorism©
The judge scratches his forehead and straightens his wig. JUDGE: How inconvenient, So what is the size of the president's, hmmmm... Mr. Peanut?
U.S. REP: [Shaking his head] No... That’s Mr. Pickle M'Lud, I’m afraid that's under a 75 yr non-disclosure Sir. National security measure
JUDGE : Yes, quite. You may approach the bench; I'm cleared to the highest level.
U.S. Representative approaches the bench and whispers in the judges earJUDGE: [Smiling broadly] Really!!! Failed the Lewinsky test you say? My condolences to his stenographer. However, I think I see a way around our little [snigger] problem
The judge bangs his gavel and straightens his wig againJUDGE: Bailiff? Bring me one of those Cuban Cigars and a Meat Cleaver.
[Looks at the dock with raised eyebrows]. JUDGE: On second thoughts Bailiff, make that a half corona.
Saddam 1 vaults from the dock and makes a run for itENDScene 3IRAQI DESSERT : EXT : DAY3 Saddams are perched on a Camel. They are ill equipped for their journey.
Obviously they are suffering with the heat.SADDAM 2 : Right what do we do now?
SADDAM 1 : [German accent] Vell, ve kan't go beck to ze 'Saddam trade'. Ze market hass kaput. Ya???
SADDAM 3 : What about the Pope? He has body doubles. All you have to do is put on a Dress, a big hat and pretend to be arthritic.
SADDAM 2 : Nah, we're too young, besides, anyway I don't fancy being a Pope. You have to wear the Fisherman's Ring.
SADDAM 3 : Don't they use lubrication? Y'know, cut down on friction.
SADDAM 2 : Don't be daft, it wouldn't get worn then would it?
SADDAM 1 : Vot a Boomer!!!
SADDAM 2 : Well at least the altar boys never have to genuflect in the Apse. Now, concentrate, what we really need is a disguise.
SADDAM 3 : I know... EuroDisney... We could do hospitality. They get to wear costumes
SADDAM 2 : I wouldn't want to get a job as the little mermaid... That tail gives me the willies
SADDAM 3 : I'm getting worried about you, What's all this about fishing and homosexuality?
SADDAM 2 : Something I heard about Michael Jackson performing on the net. O.K... Eurodisney it is
ENDTo be Continued…
The Crystal Skulls
The water, falling in droplets from the numerous stalagtites, beats a constant tattoo like some natural, ritual, torture. The L shaped cave isn’t large but the acoustics seem to hint at depths unseen. At spaces that, maybe, don’t exist solely in this dimension. And what dimension is this, exactly? How did you come to be here? You don’t recall an entrance or a tunnel of any type.
A cursory inspection leads to the inescapable conclusion that this must be a dream or some out of body experience. No way to get in, no way to get out. It seems real enough, the caustic ammonia tang, of Bat guano, a pungent explanation of the crunchy yet slime treacherous footing. The water, of course, the perceptible chill of ancient rock, provides all the sensory evidence of existence you need.
The thought occurs that something must be lighting the way. Reaching the corner you turn into the adjacent leg of the L to find a roughly hewn, stone table. The table holds 3 perfectly fashioned crystal skulls of various, ethnic design.
Amazingly, the skull on the left speaks,LEFT SKULL: God, I need a shag
RIGHT SKULL: Don’t be stupid, flatface, you can’t shag. You don’t have the necessary equipment.”
The skull in the centre, larger and somehow more refined than the others, answers in a patronising tone.CENTRE SKULL: Speak for yourself, I can "shag" anyone I choose. I’m a multi-dimensional entity
RIGHT SKULL: That’s just it, you stuck up sod! It has to be a communion of minds. A meeting of souls
LEFT SKULL: Bollocks to that, I want a tight piece of ass
RIGHT SKULL: You’ll just have to make do with the cerebral won’t you?
LEFT SKULL: I can’t.
RIGHT SKULL: What’s wrong now?
LEFT SKULL: I’ve forgotten how to do it
To be continued…
CCTV
The 3 most powerful and richest men on the planet are about to have an emergency group meeting.
No one on earth, not even the secret agencies, know they exist. These men are so secretive they won't even reveal their identities to the others in the group. They are simply known as the CLOWN, the MYSTIC and the POET.
These three have the power to change world beliefs, create recessions, end recessions, start religions, end global poverty, even end wars but they are only interested in two things: power and wealth. The group's aim is to create conspiracy theories that will distract humanity from knowing the truth of who they really are. In fact these 3 are what is commonly called the Illuminati but they go under the name of CCTV which stands for Covert Conspiracy Team Venture. Because of business commitments, they usually meet once every 6 months.
The Clown has called an emergency meeting. We join them in their secret hideout which cannot be revealed here for obvious reasons.
CLOWN: Welcome! It’s good to see you again.
MYSTIC: Me too. Why are we here?
POET: I’m intrigued.
CLOWN: Because I missed you guys. Does there have to be a reason?
POET: Stop acting stupid and tell us why we are here. I am way too busy to waste time.
CLOWN: OK, don't get your knickers in a twist. The reason I called this Emergency Meeting is because I've noticed humanity is getting too laid back. We need to give them something new to fret about.
MYSTIC: But they've got enough right now to keep them going what with terror attacks, mobile phones, CJD, DVDs and the likes. Why can't we give them a break for another year?
CLOWN: You and your false sense of conscience! Where is that conscience of yours when you are spending people's hard earned cash?
POET: There's no need to get offensive, CLOWN.
CLOWN: Sorry.
MYSTIC: You are forgiven.
CLOWN: I believe it's time to give humanity something else to worry about.
POET: What have you got in mind?
CLOWN: Cats.
MYSTIC: What?
CLOWN: Cats. I've dreamed up this conspiracy where all domestic cats are secret agents working for their governments. Each cat has an implant called CAT or Concealed Attaché Technology.
POET: (laughing) That sounds daft.
CLOWN: Maybe, but if you can come up with something better, be my guest.
MYSTIC: What is the purpose of the CAT conspiracy?
CLOWN: What is the purpose of all conspiracy theories? To distract humanity from knowing who they are, and to make us even richer. Hehehe! Hehehe!
MYSTIC: Oh shut up, CLOWN, you sound like
Skeletor (He-Man's arch-enemy).
CLOWN: Sorry. Naturally, like all theories, it is going to have to sound authentic. I already have scientists who can create evidence that all cats have implants. Perhaps we could approach Dan Brown or David Icke to write an exposé. POET, you are very good at bringing people together. Maybe you could arrange this?
POET: I did an excellent job with Dan Brown, didn't I?
CLOWN: Yes you did. People can't get enough of the Da Vinci Code. Hehehe!
MYSTIC: You are doing your Skeletor laugh again.
CLOWN: Sorry.
MYSTIC: What role do I play?
CLOWN: You know, ensuring that each religious faction has its say; the intelligentsia get to debate what this means for society; get people to argue for the rights of Cats. You know, blow it out of all proportion and intimate other animals might be involved in this. Do what you do best - pretend you care about humanity; that's how we make money.
MYSTIC: I'll see what I can do.
CLOWN: In the meantime I'll get the ball rolling sending out mind control frequencies to the collective consciousness. Let's meet up in two weeks and report our progress.
POET: That's a bit soon.
MYSTIC: I think two weeks is fine with me.
POET: OK, I'll do my best.
CLOWN: Remember people why we do this - Power and Money.
POET: There is nothing like having power over all.
MYSTIC: There is nothing like wealth.
CLOWN: And there is nothing like conspiracy theories. Hehehe! Till next time.
TO BE CONTINUED
Proverbs, Don't You Just Love 'Em?
I love proverbs. They have so much truth that you can apply again and again to your life. Yeah right. These are post-modern times where everything is subject to revision, even proverbs. Here are a few interpretations.
If you have nothing good to say about someone, don't say anything at all.
If you have nothing good to say about someone, you have nothing good to say about the person.
Too many cooks spoil the broth.
Too many cooks mess up my nice, clean, kitchen floor.
Many hands make light work.
Many hands make too much noise, create chaos, and mess up my nice, clean, kitchen floor.
A stitch in time saves nine.
A stitch in time saves you a visit to the hospital.
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bus.
A bird in the hand is worthy of being included in my stew.
Birds of the same feather will flock together.
Birds of the same feather will fight over scraps.
Little drops of water, little grains of sand, make the mighty ocean and the beauteous land.
Oh yeah? Call me cynical, but this, I've got to see.
If at first you don't succeed, try again.
If at first you don't succeed, cry again.
If at first you don't succeed, give it a miss love.
If at first you don't succeed, accept it, you are a failure.
More...
Every cloud has a silver lining.
You wouldn't think that if you lived in London.
Half a loaf is better than none at all,
Said the baker to the customer. Are you going to buy the loaf or what?
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Absence makes the heart grow pissed off and find someone new.
It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
It is better to have loved and lost than waiting for the telephone to ring.
Even More...
A man is known by the company he owns
After a storm comes the appeal/insurance premium rise/Aid workers/etc
Beggars can't be taxed
It is better to have loved and lost than having to wash any more of those socks
It's better to have loved and lost 'cos you kept the CD collection
A bird in the hand is worth 20% to a divorce lawyer
Too many cooks spoil the TV ratings
Those who live in Glass Houses shouldn't walk about in the nip
In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is a goddamn, cyclops, mutant bastard
A New Way of Communicating
You know life would be so much more simpler if we all communicated the way they do in Star Trek.
Insufficient Data!You know what I mean, in monosyllables.
Affirmative.It will be so easy to relate to one another, don't you think?
Insufficient Data.Maybe we could all start this day by making a commitment to become Trekkies. Think of all the fun we can have attending conventions and dressing up as aliens.
Negative.Come on now, where is your sense of adventure?
Negative.Well I'm going to speak like this from now on with or without you.
Understood.Some people might think I'm off my trolley then again what else is new?
Agreed.Drole, very drole!
Affirmative.Live long and prosper.
Acknowledged.EJ over and out
Feel free to add your own.
IMHO
The Internet world has its own jargons, enough to baffle anyone new to the language. There are even
dictionaries for those who are too slow to understand.
Here are a few alternative meanings and new jargons.
BTW = Back To Work. This is when you've been using the internet at work and your boss walks in so you end the conversation abruptly.
LOL = Lots of Lolly (lolly is a British slang for money); Lucky on [the] Lotto This is when you're trying to make others envious.
IMAO = Imagination Maketh An Orangutang In those moments when you're experimenting with surrealism.
IMHO = In My Hamster's OpinionAgain a moment of surrealism.
IMEO = In My Exalted Opinion The state Enocia is always in.
Here are a few you won't see on the Internet:
WTF = What The Fuck is she on about etc.
TIT = This Is Terrific/Terrible
TIN = This Is Nonsense
TIF = This Is Fantastic
TIC = This Is Crap
WAP = What A Plonker! (plonker is a British slang for "idiot")
BAR = Blowing A Raspberry (which is a British slang for: "flatulent imitative sound made with the lips and tongue, either expressing derision or used humourously for its rude associated qualities. From the rhyming slang raspberry tart meaning 'fart'. {Informal}")
So there you have it, more jargons. I would love to hear if you've got some new ones.
LOLAHAKAL = lots of love and hugs and kisses and laughter
Enocia
Only One
Ok work with this one will ya? it was a fun article for me. So give it your best shot.~ONLY ONE~
The world is a stage, there is only one actor,
only one producer, only one that directs all things.
There is only one voice, only one script, and only one roll.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.. "hello." "Someone is at the door,
I must answer it." Let me ask you a question, "where did
the KNOCK come from?" "From the door, someone is there."
The world is a stage, there is only one actor, only
one producer, only one that directs all things.
There is only one voice, only one script, and only one roll.
Who stands at the door and KNOCKS?
~By shyloh~
I'm up for it (always blowing my own trumpet (I wish)) -Kah Ooer! There’s Only One ScriptINT: STUDIO: DAYA group of actors are relaxing in a corner of the studio. A scriptwriter sits in a Directors chair leafing through a script. On the back of the chair, scribbled in chalk, are the words ‘I AM GOD’.SOUND OVER: [door slams shut, footsteps echo across the wooden, studio floor, getting nearer.].
A man in a fur coat enters leftFUR COAT MAN: Right everyone! Stop what you’re doing and listen up. My name is Frank Coley. I’m your new director. You! Get off my chair.
SCRIPTWRITER: {stage whisper} Oooh! Someone crawled out of the swamp on the wrong side this morning.
COLEY: Very funny, are you the piss-taker responsible for that?
SCRIPTWRITER: What?
COLEY:That! On the back of the chair, ‘I am Cod’.
SCRIPTWRITER: COD??? It looks like I AM GOD to me, G. O. D. Yep, it’s GOD alright.
COLEY: Do I look like I was born yesterday, do you think with a name like Coley I haven’t seen and heard that one a million times before? Get it wiped off. NOW!!!
MALE LEAD: What’s he rattling on about?
FEMALE LEAD: His name is Coley, it’s a type of fish.
MALE LEAD: Aah!
No-one moves to wipe off the chalk. Coley is forced to wipe it off himself.COLEY: Ok, where’s the script?
SCRIPTWRITER: Slight problem there Mr. Cod, I mean Coley, we only have one copy.
COLEY: Say again?
SCRIPTWRITER: There’s only one script.
COLEY: Jesus!!!
MALE LEAD: I thought he WAS Jesus
FEMALE LEAD: No, he’s a fish who thinks he’s God, big difference.
COLEY: I heard that.
FEMALE LEAD: Correction, a God-fish with ears
COLEY: Who are you two?
FEMALE LEAD: I’m Flo Thornley, and this is Brad Updike
COLEY: Aaah! The leading lady, hold this for me will you
He takes off his oversize fur coat and throws it at Flo, she catches it on reflex. Curls her lip in distaste and holds it at arms length. FLO: Are you sure it’s dead?
SCRIPTWRITER: If it isn’t the animal rights will be picketing Grizzly Adams here
She drops the coat over the back of the chairCOLEY: I take it you know your lines?
SCRIPTWRITER: Another slight problem there
COLEY: What now?
SCRIPTWRITER: The last director had messed so much with the script we had to do a complete re-write. None of the cast has seen this script yet.
COLEY: Oh brother!
FLO: Now, he’s a monk
BRAD: A monkfish?
FLO: Bit out of his depth, then.
COLEY: SHUT UP!!! Let me think. Why is there only one script?
SCRIPTWRITER: The runner twisted an ankle, she didn’t show today. We couldn’t get it copied in time.
COLEY: Right, here’s what we’ll do, Who’s got the chalk?
They all look at each other shrugging. TO BE CONTINUED…
On Different Planets?
Two hard of hearing women, Marge and Mildred, meet up in the street. They hug each other.
Marge: Have you been shopping?
Mildred: No, I've been shopping.
Marge: I didn't realise things were that bad.
Mildred: Yes, I really love it. I'm actually having some for dinner tonight.
Marge: How are your grandkids.
Mildred: The dogs are fine, up to no good as usual. Nelly is expecting puppies soon.
Marge: Ah, that's lovely.
Marge: Well, it's good to see you again.
Mildred: Oh yes, the joys of youth!
Marge: Mind how you go, love.
Mildred: God bless!
Keeping It Real News Report
Are you fed up with the rubbish that passes off as news these days, what with the doom and gloom perspective of the world? A group of journalists called Keeping It Real (KIR) have decided to focus only on news about the man and woman in the street. Here are a couple of news items hot off the press.
News SplashA woman in Tottenham was rushed to hospital this morning after being splashed by a local bus driver. It had been raining non-stop for several hours and all the streets were flooded. While trying to park at a bus stop, the driver splashed an unsuspecting female pedestrian. The woman was so traumatised that she stopped breathing for a few minutes. An ambulance was called to the scene.
According to a spokesperson for the bus company the bus driver, whose name cannot be revealed for legal reasons, has been disciplined for his actions. He has also been transferred to an office post. When the recovering splashed victim, Mrs Davis, housewife, aged 32, was asked what she thought about the discipline she believed it was too little too late.
"That bus driver has ruined my life and I will never be able to go out when it is raining as long as I live".
The bus company has offered to pay for Mrs Davis' long term counselling, which she and her lawyers are taking under consideration.
Who Wears the Trousers?A damning Report has confirmed what we have all feared all along: people have difficulty telling men and women apart because many women wear trousers these days.
A survey, commissioned by the government, was carried out to find out whether men should wear trousers. A local poll revealed a startling result:
No: 22%;
Yes: 23%; and
Undecided: 55%.
The results have baffled the Government and psychologists alike as it was further revealed that all the poll participants were men.
End.
Site Announcements
I'm in the process of moving house at the moment so I'm trying to get together some sketches to post (have to backtrack through some databurns 'cos my main PC's are in storage).
Meanwhile
Thoughts for the day (mysteries of the universe)What does 'occasional furniture' do when it isn't being furniture?
Does a 'stationary shop' imply that other shops move around?
How does Diarrhea know which way to go?
When one hand waves about on it's own, looking kinda silly and embarrassed, why do little bald orientals think it is clapping?
END
The War on Saddam
The War on Saddam.Sally Vator : War Correspondent23/03/2003
As you may have noticed by now, coalition forces have invaded Saddam. Two nights ago, crack troops crossed over the border from a neighbour, probably Mrs Hassan from number 34, and made their way up his left trouser leg laying siege to the strategic port of Nee Qap.
Acting on information received from a mole on his left thigh, the troops executed a daring raid up his Ali Men Tari canal in an attempt to 'decapitate' him. It isn't certain if the attack was successful but considering there is still evidence of bodily processes it seems unlikely.
Due to the nature of the campaign the number of troops are restricted but we are doing all we can to administer humanitarian aid, possibly a paracetamol or two.
Aid workers have been warned that Saddam is known to have produced dangerous chemicals, such as adrenalin and a particularly lethal form of Methane Gas. Special care should be taken around the twin towns of Bue toqz and the Anul Sphin Qatr ring road.
The War on Saddam, News update 24th MarSally Vator : War correspondent24/03/2003
Following initial reports of easy progress the allies have met stiff resistance while trying to penetrate Niq ur el Astiq.
A full frontal assault on the Wire Fronts was pushed back when it encountered a huge warhead hidden in thick shrub surrounding an area known locally as the Pu Biq region.
The Anul Sphin Qatr ring road is now open again causing several gas alerts in the early hours of the morning, our reporter confirmed.
In the south, aid is being held up, by pockets of resistence, around the Ankh El Soq penninsula. Troops fear that after a lack of activity in the area that residue from the long walk taken by Saddam last thursday may make progress hazardous... Gas masks have been issued to aid workers in the area.
The War on Saddam, News update 25th MarSally Vator : War correspondent25/03/2003
Several 'crack' troops are feared missing after they entered Gunjib Umm Fluph on the outskirts of Anul Sphin Qatr today. Although Saddam is thought to have a hidden supply of Andrex it seems he hasn’t used any yet.
END
The End is Nigh
GODS OFFICE: INT: DAY:God sits at a cluttered desk in a swivel chair. He wears loose fitting robes and a necktie hangs loosely around his throat. A large bank of TV monitors, showing various regions of the world flicker behind him. A plate on his desk reads, JHWH – C.E.O. Afterlife LTD.
The intercom on his desk buzzesSOUND OVER: [BZZZZZZZZT]
GOD: Yes Mary?
MARY: Lady Di to see you ,sir.
GOD : Good send her in will you.
The door opens and Lady Di Spencer, dressed in sweat pants and shirt, breezes into the room and flops down in a vacant chairDI: Hi JH! Just dropped by for a chat.
GOD: [looks over to the drink’s cabinet], Good, I’ll get the kettle on.
DI: No thanks, can’t stay long. I’m on official business, Chair of the Sufferers Union.
GOD: Damnation!!!
DI: That’s what I want to talk to you about. The conditions down there are appalling. All that Brimstone lying around, it’s against C.O.S.H.H. regulations and the latrine facilities are non-existent. Human Resources are having a fit.
GOD: I didn’t know they were down there. No-one tells me anything since the business went corporate.
DI: They aren’t down there, silly. They want to see some improvements in working conditions, that’s all. Oh! The fire regulations state that at least two fire extinguishers and a fire blanket should be available per 100sq feet as well.
Mobile phone ringsS/O: [ electronic ‘oh come all ye faithful’]
GOD: ‘Scuse me a minute, Di
He reaches into his robes and pulls out a flip phoneGOD: Hells bells! How do I answer this contraption?
DI: It’s the button with the green icon.
GOD: That’s technology for you.
he holds the phone, gingerly, away from his earGOD: Hello, God here… Ah, it’s you Peter. What is it this time?
He pauses whilst Peter speaksGOD: Oh Christ, Jehovah’s Witnesses???
Another pauseGOD: No… No… Send ‘em next door to Allah. That should be good for a laugh. He loathes hawkers. Ok, see you at lunch… Oh and Peter? Keep me posted will you?
He folds away the flip –phone, can’t resist the temptation to flip it open againGOD: [Into the flip phone]. Beam me up, Scotty!!!
He remembers DiGOD: Ahem, now where were we, ah yes, fire regulations?
DI: Yes, you don’t need me to tell you what will happen if the inspector fails you on fire regs again?
GOD: Another fine?
DI: No, he’ll close the facility, you’ll have to relocate.
GOD: He can’t do that… Where will we put the Lutherians? They can’t go in with the Scientologists, there’d be a bloodbath!!!
DI: He won’t care about that. Holy wars are your department.
GOD: By Thor’s golden hammer, how much is it going to cost? We’re already over budget for this quarter.
DI: Leave it to finance, they have their ways.
GOD: Ah! It was all so much simpler in the old days. A bit of Smiting here, plague of seagulls there, it all got sorted out one way or another.
DI: You have to move with the times JH. People these days want to see some features and benefits or they’ll turn to your competitors. It’s all about PR and Marketing.
GOD: I suppose… I can leave it with you then Di???
DI: Can do. Right I’m off for some colonic irrigation.
GOD: What IS that exactly???
ENDALLAH’S GATE: EXT: DAY:Two Jehovah’s Witnesses, clutching pamphlets, are walking towards a large Golden Gate (two broad, ornate, lattices supported by a pair of arms which hold crossed scimitars). They are approached by two, burly, Saracens who wear Kevlar BPV’s. They are armed with Gold plated AK47s The Saracens stop at a portable barrier which has been erected across the driveway.SARACEN 1: Security passes, please, gentlemen,
JEHWIT 1: Erm, we want to see the houseowner
SARACEN 1: No-one gets past the barrier without a pass. There’s a terrorist alert.
JEHWIT 2 : Terrorist alert? Here?
SARACEN 1: That’s right we have a coach load of suicide bombers arriving at 1600 hrs. Ossama Full Trashcan’s lot..
JEHWIT 2 : Is that a problem? I mean, surely they wouldn’t bomb Allah?
SARACEN 1: They can’t help it, it’s in the training, as soon as they see a closed gate it’s out with the semtex and faster than a Hassari with a Pashtun girlfriend it’s, wam, bam, salaam mam. Habit of a lifetime… Well, what there was of it.
He throws a cigarette stub to the floor. Stubbing it out with the butt of his AKJEHWIT 2 : I thought they got welcomed with open arms.
SARACEN 1: Don’t be daft lad… We have Mohamed (pbuh) in here, and the place is full of Sunni Delight. Ossama’s lot go off at the slightest provocation. Ain’t that right Abdullah.
ABDULLAH: Too true, Hassan. It’s the detonators, very sensitive to spoof trade names. Mohamed (pbuh) drinks Sunni D by the gallon. He’s famous for his drinking ‘round these parts is our Mohamed (pbuh)
JEHWIT 1: Do you want to borrow a handkerchief
ABDULLAH: Eh?
JEHWIT 1: You sound like you have a cold coming on
SARACEN 1: Are you taking the St Michael?
JEHWIT 2: Certainly not, he’s designing menswear for M&S isn’t he?
SARACEN 1: Right! That’s it… Bugger off the pair of you. Allah isn’t seeing anyone he’s having his hair done.
ENDGOLF LINKS: EXT: DAY:THE VANQUISHED AND THE ETERNAL PERFECT
It’s a fine summer day. The moulting thistledown clings to the weave of your Chino’s as you push forward, through the scrub, towards the stand of trees ahead. As you near the copse you hear the rustling of robes, the squeak of a wheel sorely needing oil. You smell incense.
Several carrion crows rise from the trees, caw-cawing in indignation. Endorsing a sharp noise that disturbs the calm air like a harbinger. PHWAAAP! It recalls the noise made when a good driving wood strikes the tee, fair and true. As it should recall the noise, for that is exactly what you just heard. Follow the ball through the air… No… BE the ball.
You slam through the air. Picking up speed as gravity loses its jealous grip, slides away to mumble in your slipstream. You leave the ground behind as you accelerate. Had you lungs, you would scream them raw with the joy of it. Had you lungs you would gasp for breath as the air fans out around your tight, dimpled, skin, evading the greedy attempt to imprison it within. Exuberant, you thrust blindly upward, like a chance deflowering, into the clear sky.
It won’t be a long flight by any standards. You are already reaching your climax, your apex. You are already failing. Your momentum spent as gravity, victorious after all, reaches out to reclaim it’s own. Reaches out to claw you back to solid ground.
You feel the crosswind now. You dip and swerve, buffeted by the currents that, only a moment ago, you sought to consume. There is a flag down below. You arrow towards it on your descent. Homing in on the dark pock where it meets the fine, green, turf. Rebounding slightly between the pole and the back of the hole, your pristine, doomed, flight comes to its natural end. You nestle safely in the damp sod… PLINK !Snap back to the stand of trees…You hear voices on the other sideVOICE 1: Will you stop doing that?
VOICE 2: Doing what?
VOICE 1: That… It’s cheating, we’re on the tenth hole and THAT is your tenth ‘hole in one’
VOICE 2: I’m sorry but you don’t seem to understand. I’m the Almighty. It can’t be any other way for me.
VOICE 1: Pfah!!!
VOICE 2: It’s true, one thing the vanquished find it hard to accept is that perfection has no free will, no choice. It is what it always has been and what it always will be… Perfect.
VOICE 1: Vanquished is it? Just because you threw me out doesn’t mean I can’t do hole in ones, you know. It’s just that I choose not to. Ruins a good round.
VOICE 2: That was my point, it isn’t my kind of game.
VOICE 1: What is?
VOICE 2: Solitaire, maybe patience.
VOICE 1: Ok, let’s talk business, what do you want?
VOICE 2: The Fire Inspector is coming at 4:30 today. We have a consignment of extinguishers and blankets arriving at 4:00. Can you see them distributed as per regulations?
VOICE 1: Can’t your guys do it?
VOICE 2: Tsk, Tsk. Always trying to get your hands on extra souls. No! Your staff can handle it.
VOICE 1: If we must. Anything else?
VOICE 2: No, I must be going. I have some loose ends to attend to.
VOICE 1: You concede the game then?
VOICE 2: No… No, I don’t think so… I already won it.
Soft footfalls retreat into the silence, a moment then…VOICE 1: Beelzebub?
A wheel squeaks as the caddy shifts positionBEELZEBUB: Yes Lord?
VOICE 1: Can you see to it that the 4:00 p.m. assignment gets lost in the lake of Sulphur?
BEELZEBUB: Lord???
VOICE 1: Don’t you see? If we fail another inspection he’ll have to relocate us
BEELZEBUB: Which means?
VOICE 1: We’ll be free!!!
END
