Random Boo

I couldn’t care less if your mobile phone could err, sharpen pencils! My phone can call people, which is odd isn’t it, considering that is why I brought the dame thing! It’s quite depressing that I’m the one considered ‘odd’ in a world full of trivial monkeys nervously shouting “that’s Spartacus there!”  Whilst, like illuminated crickets, they text people stood next to them ‘did ya get me txt?”
Materialism is a burden on your disposition, like baggage of ‘this is me’; like vomit in an ASDA plastic bag with one of them paper miniature umbrellas that you usually find in cocktails. With the aforementioned yoke carried, you’ll fail to fall through the self-sieving that is, what is, the development of constructing a constructive experience of your experience, err, hang on. Your glass maybe half full now, but there is no escaping the fact that the glass is also half empty. Happiness is a temporary distraction. Every distraction and every obstacle is a cause of concern and an obstruction in your will, that is, by you, labelled ‘evil’. He whose desires are in difference in comparison to yours is wrong; he who blocks you from your destination is ‘evil’. Revenge is wrong and unnecessary, unless said act is committed by you, apparently, by your innate logic anyway. Man serves himself, and his neighbours loathe it, as it interferes with their self-interest.
What is ‘evil’? Do you think, really, that the universe has any concept of ‘evil’? If in musical chairs you lose, then you lose, and that is ‘life’ as they say, whoever ‘they’ are, presumably a bunch of haughty, overpaid, overfed, triple chinned hermits sat round a table inventing job titles.
Praying to a God for a ‘get out of jail free card’ is simply just being arrogantly delusional. You are naturally polarising your perception by naively ranking yourself above standard on the goodness scale, stop it! You are not God, kinda. The dichotomy of good and evil is either a lack of knowledge or a refusal of acceptance; crowning one evil is the equivalent of “ask your mother” in this dynamic world of bigger houses and noisier cars, where charity is collateral, and love a token unity.
Rivalry is the mother of development, but development is then the product of envy, thus unjustifiable outrage is the frustration of man and the architect of war, thus rendering the ignorant monkeys forever belligerently unsettled.  Ok, to some, life is a game, and to win a game, everyone else must lose! True, but, unlike the duration, life is not relative, define winning before you throw the dice.

“But why?” she said, “why not?” he responded, “if, as I stand here, in line, waiting to be served at the ASDA checkout, I decide to rub my fingers in circular motion around my nipples, then I will” well what could she say; he had a point. You can’t derail yourself from the tunnel, but when you see the light, you can make sure you’re brighter. A ghost has no concept of time, correction; a ghost has no concept of our time, but then time is relative to everyone anyway. The corpse is nothing more than a husk with the spirit elsewhere, the ghost is the spirit, the ghost is living, or an echo, but we’ll conveniently avoid that bit. Death is nothing more than a transition, and thus you live forever, that is, if ghosts are real. Unless your husk once housed a nut, then you believe in religion (same thing), and therefore believe in heaven, even though it clashes with the ideal of every other living organism on this hanging sphere; I bloody hate harps, and discussions on the calories in Philadelphia light. I don’t want to be rewarded for my inhumane ignorance and arrogance by a creative version of Mussolini. “Is this banana flat?” pondered the monkey on drugs “let’s publish a seven hundred thousand word essay about it” said the other monkey, which had an empty wallet to fill.
Now do that tie up, otherwise you’ll trigger the disapproval of our leader *points at sky whilst doing a woo noise* No; you refuse too? Then I’m afraid expulsion is the only answer, it’s the opinion of the entire staff that Dexter is criminally insane!

Advertising, political propaganda, and uninformative dogmatic newspapers! ”A bag in the river may have contained The Cheshire Cat” of cause it did, it may have also contained a handful of self-adhesive tapeworms doing the cancan whilst wearing tutus. Can you get a tutu for a tapeworm? Oh yes, skip the cancan bit because that’s perfectly self-explanatory for a legless tapeworm!  Who said it was legless? Alas, unless the idea was injected into the insentient regions of the void that is your mind, you will not conceive the notion. You hear what you want to hear, but when combined with what they want you to hear, they can sell you Trebor Softmints to cure testicular cancer. Like Dr Hoffmann of Stuttgart and his leech farm, like a headless budgie to a blind kid, like New Labour, like Lambert and Butler lights, Hellboy computer games, Sunny Delight, and Push Pops, these are not stilts for midgets but a plug-in air freshener for a conservative voting aborigine living in Scotland. A talking parrot is not much better a source for wise advice as is a cracker from a country that thinks failure is the mother of success!  Don’t read the dribbling whining from stargazed decrepit charlatans at the Daily Mail. Don’t fritter your time on politics. Don’t buy a Henrietta for twice the price of a Henry. And don’t ever, ever, poke the dead bird with a stick. Do you have a mind of your own? Use it, or someone else will use it for you.