I’m pissed off so it’s probably a terrific idea to start casting my opinions online.
One thing that I’d like to do with the fury within me is to spill the beans on my masterplan to put myself in a position of power to right those that’ve wronged me.
There won’t even be any degree of “= profit” about this, it will in fact come down to making a vast amount of money from the advertisers that want to sell news of their product on comedy, satire and pornographic websites.
The blend might be unique, but that admittedly does equal a little bit of profit.
The website would be hosted in my cabin, with a camera placed on top of a ladder, a laptop shivering in the corner from the content to be uploaded via it, and a large amount of plastic sheeting that can be easily trashed.
Vengeance cabin prepped, I would kiss my wife and son goodbye, hop in my car (for ‘engineheads’ – it’s a red car, thus faster), and drive down to the local shop to grab some pristine, buxom, and very flirty fish and chips.
Then I’d drive it back to my cabin, sneak past my wife and son who’re hopefully not too powerful in the noses, shut the vengeance cabin door behind me, and pull the blinds down (note to self, or to any reading benefactor: buy black-out blinds) so that nobody can see inside – either for their own wellbeing or because they should be paying for this.
With the steaming fish and chips laid upon the floor, I’d de-robe my lower half, squat, and make a vast amount of money by taking an enormous dump over the surf-meets-turf.
Once done, I’d take a photo of it.
Then I’d put it on the internet, you’d click on the link, revisit, revisit again as I update the variety of subjects shat on, revisit repeatedly (yes you will) and alerting advertisers as you do so that this is a place for advertising to be placed, they’ll get in touch with me, I’ll take their second offer, and the road to power and vengeance begins.
I mentioned earlier that I’d be looking for advertisers eager to engage with comedy, satire, and pornographic websites.
I could chef that blend, with a healthy series of things to take a dump on, like a mask of Trump, or a an Apple Iphone, perhaps a novel or building materials (I’ve got bricks bro.
Got some mortar too – maybe I’ll dump on a wee-little wall), and if I leave a hundred words or so of description, the kind that gets the SEO flowing and the laughter true, I’d undoubtedly get the money.
Then comes the power.
Then comes the women, I presume – I don’t know, my wife won’t tell me.
So we’d go back to the power, increase it so smartly that it’d have a crease, and get some vengeance.
Why fish and chips to begin with?
Because, you’d click to see it.
Because, deep-down, you’re just as normal as everyone else. And that means you want to see what different things look like with poo on them. Even better if it makes you laugh about politics.
This should hit all the targets I’m hoping to hit, and I admit that this will include quite a lot of people logging on and wanking to my photos of poo on objects (like Saturday Night Fever VHS’, bottles of milk, and the Chinese flag), but that makes money, which is capitalism, which is freedom, which is patriotism, which are still not enough for me to ever tell me son about my masterplan. Either way; fair enough.
I feel less pissed off now that I’ve revealed my masterplan, but I might feel different tomorrow once I’ve realised I’ve said these emotional plans online.
One last thing, I’d do…I’d clean up my vengeance cabin, take my vengeance money, and buy some flowers and fudge and global monopolies, improve the days of those that have wronged me, and sit back down with my wife and son, pat the dog, smoke something expensive, and sleep a more peaceful sleep than the people out there who can’t stop thinking about the guy who bought them fudge, flowers and their place of work.
It’d need a name, no puns (like ‘Splatire’), so how about…………….
I may have outdone myself with ‘Splatire’.
Looks like I’ll just have to settle snuggly on my own limitations and rule the world from my vengeance cabin, waggling ‘Splatire’ like it something I’m actually proud to admit on the internet.
Gaming is fun, and gaming is good.
You can spend 3 minutes playing, say, Call Of Duty on PS3, shortly before having to hurry off and do something constructive. And of those 3 minutes, you can say happily to yourself: “6 kills. I got 6 kills. That’s good, because I got 6 kills”.
Bless us and our ‘6 kills’. We really are adorable in the strange things that matter so much for so short an amount of time. In the monumentally short-term, those 6 kills are everything to us, aside from the likely proximity of snacks. But it is merely short-term, as we do not reminisce about our 6 kills later that week:
1: “Dude I totally got 6 kills on Tuesday night!”
2: “Oh. Good.”
Does not happen.
There would also seem to be a gap in the game market for saving people. Perhaps it is because they aren’t real, and that somehow equates to them receiving a worthy death, or maybe it is because we know that although they die- they will be coming back.
I am glad re-incarnation is only suspected. Otherwise the death-rate would soar and instead of guys sitting in their homes thinking their ‘6 kills’ mantra- they would be sitting there saying to their wives: “Hey, y’know what? I didn’t get butchered today! Isn’t that a pleasant thought before bed!”.
Murder would seem to be the only thing the gaming world offers that has that feeling of being constructive. As if though they’re real terrorists that you kill six times.
What I think needs to be created is some translation of energy, so that the amount of hours that are put into games can have some off-shoot potential. So, say that if you could play a game for two hours, you power that games unit for both those hours, using a pedal mechanism that further goes on to store further power as well as keep your arse in shape whilst you sit on it.
It was often said that if kids actual spent that time learning how to play guitar, rather than tapping buttons on an computer imitation guitar, then they’d be pretty good at it by now. So perhaps making games as realistic as possible is the way forward, so that we actually know how to dismantle a terrorist should the occasion arise, or play guitar.
The thing about gaming is that it permits failure of grand schemes. People, in games, attempt and fail- sometimes dying. And they keep playing. And they keep going. Very few of us attempt this in real life during the minor moments, let alone the grand scheme, as failure is tragically unacceptable and success is the only thing that can ever be permitted to happen.
Lack of a decent amount of failure will make you sick and lame, and although we can not ‘save’ in real life, we should hold that one life precious and spend it because tomorrow might now happen. You don’t want to end up at that tomorrow that shouldn’t come as the pussy that didn’t jump out the window because you have some sort of pussy reason that your mind has desperately mashed together to permit you to not have to act up here and enjoy life for some fucking reason that seems so important at the time. The minute you’ve jumped, you want to do it again. But you won’t jump, and you’ll think of a bad reason why not when it comes to it.
Jump out of more windows. It’s good for you’re choice of shoes in future. You’ll want the sturdier pairs.
And find people with a grand scheme, or get one of your own. Then leave the house (preferably by window) and take that scheme down to city hall and slam it against the side of the building and say: “I’m 5 foot 8 and I have a scheme today”. You may attract attention, but that is a good thing because you have a scheme and you’re only 5 8″.
All in all, at least you won’t be playing irrelevant video games (they’re all irrelevant)- you’ll be making a scene downtown, with a scheme in your hand. And 5 8″.
With any luck you’ll fail terribly.
And then do something else till it works.