Pigs Without Legs.

Just imagine that.

Pigs without legs.

Hmm.

You should probably take that and make a metaphor out of it.

Or just think about it.

Hmm.

Another thing to think about? Can you leave your body to pornography?

If so…maybe you should…do something about that weird personality that everyone assumes is due to your dad fucking your belly button but is actually due to you simply wanting to help people and their genitals- probably due to the fact that your mother never fucked your belly button. Not even once, in the winter.

You should do something about that weird personality- because what’s truly weird is what is truly different, and what is truly different is never accepted in the times that personality endures.

Let’s take…invading Iraq. That would never be popular in our current times, but in a couple of centuries, that’ll be the hot-ticket on the fashion walk. People everywhere will be doing their darndest (blooming darndest) to find some angle with which to invade Iraq from.

Of course disposing of despots will be the traditionalist’s route, whereas the true die-hards will be using the ‘oil’ route with which to fuck their way into the nation.

The people of Iraq will invade themselves, presuming they haven’t moved. They will be the most fashionable people on the planet, to the degree of their being able to climb through their own windows and decapitate themselves with their own bread knife. Pretty damn fashionable. Some people might try to do the same thing with a broom- but they’re trying too hard- by the time they get through cutting their heads off it won’t fashionable any more.

By the way- I’m not talking about police officers without legs, because that’s not very interesting. You see one of those guys on the floor, you’re more than likely to be polite than just stare as they rock and roll, whereas, when it’s an actual pig- you’re going to watch it for a while. Probably get yourself a beverage with which to enjoy watching with.

And then you can think about those legless pigs…fucking.

Hmm.

Think about that.

Sam.

Hmm.


Just Add Cheese. Because I Said So!

Routes to millions of pounds, or more likely- dollars, seems to tread all the same ground.

Just add cheese.

I like to think of the number of people that are very well paid and have their own parking space purely owing to their idea of adding cheese to a product.

At times adding more cheese.

I have had that idea, but you’re going to need a good product to add cheese to.

I chose a piano.

I could sell the cheese, and I could have sold the piano- but the combo just wouldn’t move off the massive shelves you have to use for those things.

Then there are those people that realise that you’re about to invest in mozzarella all over a D-minor and so start building massive shelving units accordingly.

Those guys, the clever little and large mother fuckers, make a deliberate choice to not be one of those people that try to add cheese. When I was young, adding cheese was like growing up, ‘He’s added the cheese- don’t they grow up fast!” and now people are starting to make money out of those lucky, (can’t stress enough) LUCKY, bastard executives who now have everything (almost literally- they’ll have everything in their house- even trees). Their children will have an inheritance and I won’t like them either.

You know those children are going to be boring. Maybe not ‘church-boring’, but certainly ‘I won’t wear that collar, people might notice me’ boring.

And people like that, well, I need to have their inheritance. If you have an inheritance- either buy some orphans, or give it (and perhaps your newly acquired orphans- that didn’t work out) all to that hermit, if you can find him. I can’t deny that I’m partly encouraging this so as that should I ever go into that hermit phase- I can always hope that I’ll have an inheritance coming my way. To me in my hermit-chair.

I could be a hermit- I just don’t the people skills. You’re going to need a lot of other people to keep yourself alone for that amount of time, and if you can’t offer someone a hunk of bread (one of the few things you can actually offer a ‘hunk’ of) with a smile and a wave with a hunk-holding hand then you’d better hope that the inheritance is coming soon. Otherwise you won’t be alone for long, and that simply ruins the definition of a hermit. You might be a hermit at heart, but it’s the other people that make that career for you.

So if you ever have to baby-sit their boring children one day, you’d better get yourself over there, sit down in the dad’s chair, get up again, go to the fridge, and the settle down for a dull night with a nice, cold book. If the book’s cold- it’ll be a little more exciting and that’ll be crucial. If there’s an orphan there, get them to tell horror stories- it might even liven the dull one’s up a little.

Other than that- add cheese. Evidently, adding cheese also works.

Sam