Filed under: being alive, comedy, comedy writing, culture, funny, humour, life, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, serious stuff, stupid thoughts, thought for the day, thoughts, writing | Tags: being alive, comedy, comedy writing, funny, gay humour, life, literary journalism, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, random stuff, serious stuff, society, stupid, stupid thoughts, thought for the day
If this isn’t illegal it probably should be, yet we all do it. You get in the car with your duffel coat on and the six layers underneath to keep out the winter cold. You blast the heater and then overheat by the time you’ve made it to the first set of traffic lights. Now, here’s the dilemma plain and simple. You gotta get that damn coat off but you don’t have time to take the seatbelt off, remove the coat and put the seatbelt back on again before the line of cars behind you start sounding their horn. What do you do? You do it whilst your driving AND whilst you’re wearing the seatbelt! And do we think of pulling over to take it off safely – never crossed my mind officer!
DT
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Have a look through your photos and see just how many strangers are in them; especially photos taken in public places. There are people walking past; people in the background and even up close and personal who are complete strangers. Now, have you ever thought just how many strangers’ photos you are in – some probably framed on walls or on top of fireplaces. Your face is framed in the bedrooms and living rooms of people you have never, and will never meet. You don’t know these people from a bar of soap yet they have your photo on their wall and in their photo album. There’s also a chance you’ve been inadvertently added to a personalized photo gift from someone you don’t know to someone else you don’t know. How weird is that? There may be calendars, cushions, greetings cards and tea coasters with your face on it in the homes of complete strangers.
Your image has likely made it overseas too – to a Japanese dining room, a German hallway, and an outhouse in Papua New Guinea.
DT
Filed under: bad boy, being alive, comedy, comedy writing, culture, fraud, funny, humour, journalism, lad humour, life, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, serious stuff, society, stupid thoughts, thought for the day, thoughts, writing | Tags: bad boy, being alive, comedy writing, culture, fraud, funny, humour, life, literary journalism, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, random stuff, serious stuff, society, street scams, stupid, stupid stuff, stupid thoughts, thought for the day
Street scams are like internet scams – we know about them in theory and then it’s usually too late when we find out about them in practice.
Tourists are particularly susceptible to street scamS, but even on home soil some of them are almost believable. A young girl in her early twenties approached me in the street today with a clipboard and a sponsorship form on disabled children which she had obviously photocopied. There were a few names already on the list as she presented it to me with her thumb over the donations column. There was no ID badge. She was obviously a fraud and I told her so and moved on with my day. I then got to thinking how I would turn myself into a credible street scam money machine, and just at that point a nun walks past me. Rather, it was a woman wearing a nun’s habit that I automatically assumed to be a nun, and herein rests the tools for simple emotional manipulation.
Who would question the sincerity of one wearing the holy garments? I wouldn’t, and I certainly wouldn’t ignore a nun, a priest or an arch-bishop who stopped me in the street in the same way I would a ‘chugger’ (charity mugger) shaking a tin. Any cause will do – after all, I am not giving to the cause I am giving to God’s servant.
I’m sure it would be far easier to make a dog-collar from a cereal box than an Arch-bishop’s mitre from a baseball glove, but either way this is a scam that I will never use for fear of being struck down by a thunderbolt … and because I am a morally transparent member of society, of course.
DT
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Brain cells, brain cells. I’m sick of hearing about how clever and efficient the brain cells are. When it comes down to efficiency, you can’t beat the anus cell for work ethic.
All biological cells in the human body are universal and define themselves and their job by those cells around them. They all contain the required elements to determine what they should become and apply themselves accordingly. Isn’t that amazing? This means each and every cell is capable of doing anything it’s asked to do. If you’re assigned to work downstairs in the rusty bullet hole then you’re an anus cell. If you’re in the left ear shoveling earwax then you’re an ear cell – simple.
What a utilitarian paradise our bodies are. There’s work for all; no unemployment; no need for unions; one wage for all; and no need for holiday leave. Our cells do everything they’re asked without any tea breaks and never complain about the long hours. The brain is the boss, and would probably have a large human resources section where all new cells report for their first day at work. A new young cell turns up for his first day at work in his dad’s suit with clean socks on. The conversation would go something like this:
New Cell: Hello. I am a new cell reporting for work today.
Human Resources Cell Manager: Hello young cell. You are to report to the supervisor in the Anus this morning. Do you know how to get there?
New Cell: Yes. I know a blood cell that is car pooling and is leaving on the jugular express this morning for the Anus.
New Cell (later that morning): Hello Anus Cell Supervisor, I am a new cell reporting for work.
New Cell Supervisor: Yes, good morning son. Please get into that astronaut suit over there and go to the Svinkter where there’s a pile of brussel spouts that need turning into shit.
… And that’s his job for seven years. Every seven years, each of the trillions of cells in your body will replace themselves, so this little anus cell will drop dead at work and a new one fills his boots silently and automatically on a continuous basis until you eventually drop dead.
We could all learn a thing or two from the Anus cell about efficiency at work.
DT
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A few years ago when I was working as a housing officer, I had a drunken tenant in a block of flats that was up all night causing the rest of the block sleepless nights. After several unsuccessful attempts at resolving the problem I decided to move him immediately or risk finding him lynched one morning. He wasn’t a bad bloke – just a repentant drunk who didn’t know what he was doing after two litres of cider. I don’t think anyone else would either! I had one available empty ground floor flat that was proving hard to occupy as the woman upstairs was a raving drunk. Voila! Two raving drunks who can’t remember a thing the next day. Perfect.
I moved him in and things went exactly as I thought they would, but with an added twist. They fell in love. It was an affair sponsored by Strongbow, and I don’t think either one of them knew the other one’s name. Then one day, the bloke dropped dead and I had the task of telling the woman upstairs that her brief love affair was over. Not only did she not believe me, but she carried on acting as if he was still alive, stuffing love letters through the letterbox and proclaiming her desire for him through the carpet at the flat downstairs.
The moral of the story is – the distinction between being dead and being dead drunk resides in the fact that even though you’re dead, there may still be someone who is dead drunk that wants to shag you. Don’t ever underestimate the power of beer goggles.
