I can’t think of a worse way to depart.
Head first down a shark, with the smell of distinctly unbrushed shark breath, rotting fish, blood and sea water, as well as digestive juices, seeing fellow prongees: fish that are also pronged upon a miserable shark tooth and give you a look which you return; the realisation that you are both in the same situation and your future isn’t as brief as you suddenly wish it would be.
Imagine sharing a petrified glance (whilst the rest of you flails in appreciation for the final few minutes you inhabit) with a fish.
Imagine being in the same situation as a fish.
The food chain is a horrible thing not to be paramount of.
This is why we should eat lions and sharks; so they know and there’s no confusion.
All sharks should find themselves tinned at some juncture.
And don’t animal rights me, oh reader darling.
You must understand that if we weren’t land lubbers (ohhhhhhhhh watch me lubber you cunt of the ocean) then those dim-eyed bastards would be the center of our nightmares, waking or a’slumber.
Here’s a challenge.
Watch someone being eaten by a shark next to you and then proceed to relax.
I double dare you to enjoy your day following the toothing of the neighbour you once neighboured in the water.
I avoid the neck-deep ocean, but I do have a contingency plan for the event of a shark assault (probably a sexual assault at that; with the wandering teeth).
Should I see the faintest suggestion of a protruding fin or flipper in my own personal piece of ocean, I will calmly wind my way back to shore (at a leisurely speed of sound) and proceed to kiss the first grain of sand I encounter and then climb the nearest sturdy tree, clutching a collection of carefully sharpened berries.
It has to end with a tree well climbed as that way, in the off-chance of any sudden evolutionary advancements in sharks being able to walk, I’ll at least have a few million years of life to enjoy before the flippers become proficient tree climbers.
And when they shake my fruit from their branch, we’ll have a discussion-most-stabby with these sharks of the tree.
Not in my fucking tree mate.
A man’s tree is like his body; keep sharks out of it.
Not only are they the greatest threat to humanity, aside from our own propensity to procreate ourselves into to starved, traffic-tired and generally pissed off people, but they’re a tad dainty in the ole’ dramatics.
Have you seen the way they leap out of the water?
“Ooh la la, feel my splash!”
Fuck them for that too.
They do in the wild what orcas are trained to do at Sea World.
It feels as though they’re attempting to merge their way in and amongst us, slowly enjoying the privilege of being inland rather than outfield in the wetter world, just biding their time until the chance to bite our species, figuratively and literally, in half…you’ll find me in my tree.
They say you should punch them in the nose if they dare to get too curious in the chewiest sense of the word.
I’d prefer to be eaten by them on the grounds of it being a somewhat less fucking stupid idea.
That being so, I still appreciate the fuck-you-final-fight of the fighting/deceased.
You have to kick and thrive in the mouth because there’s not much else to do at this juncture.
Less so kill or be killed, more so kick ‘em in the tonsils as they seek to swallow.
I could go on by I’ve an overwhelming urge to make clear this following position, though I may already have:
Fuck you sharks.
Fuck you all.
Here’s to Japan, go get’em.
Land Lubbers for Life…although I also feel comfortable taking to the air as I feel I could fuck up an eagle (ruffle its feathers and cute little talons).
How do you make a donkey reverse? You make the carrot frightening.
I’ve had an urge, for a long while now, to arm myself with something beyond the pale of civilised means- such as doorlocks and kung fu.
Hence, I’ve now a bow and set of arrows lying atop my coffee table- making it a much more appreciated ‘bow and arrow’ table- which I hope to make available soon in a superstore near you.
Why would I acquire a bow and arrow?
Where I live, a county called Kent in England, we have ourselves a local legend about a puma-like big cat- that people of the area see the arse-end of as it, yet again, disappears- or they find the wreckage of a partially eaten, mostly dead chicken.
And, obviously, I need a new rug/pet and so will be seeking this massive feline out so as to ‘achieve’ it as such (I feel that ‘achieving’ could be a much more possessive and aggressive act…”I achieved you mum”), as well as to have some degree of vengeance for the chickens that I’ll never get the chance to meet.
Hunting. I’m here to hunt.
I have to admit that I’m much more of a gatherer though. I tend to pick up things as I make my way around the Earth, and then leave a little trail of items I’ve discarded owing to a matter of lacking pocket space.
However, the natural instinct that I feel within me to hunt is potent, and enjoyable.
Hunting. It makes eating a little spookier owing to the activity frequently revolving around murder and digestion in the forest. Not only this, but it also tends to mean you can wear what was your dinner after eating it.
This is harder to do as a gatherer in the more-traditional sense; wearing what you find, as opposed to wearing what you’ve killed, doesn’t work so splendidly.
Doing that with watermelons is frowned upon by most people who have a brow to frown with. Why? Because helmets, which is at the most what a watermelon can be, are only supposed to go on your head. Maybe feet. Not buttocks. Not testicles- no matter how scared you are of sudden impact to potential descendants, and dick/and/or/vagina.
I like hunting and, though my current kill rate is zero, my aim is improving.
My current aim tends to be at suburban pigeons, and they are as surprised as sweet hell to find an arrow swishing past them. They don’t need to dodge it, but they move anyway. There’s nothing quite like making a pigeon’s eyes widen.
Naturally, in the same fashion as in the United States, my weaponry is for hunting, but it undoubtedly has a practical purpose in defending my property and wife.
I would like people, and yes…of course…zombies, to know that if they should attempt to crash through my door as part of the massive horde…then they be met with a volley of whatever I can find when I’ve let loose all my arrows. Probably the longer items in my cutlery collection- meaning that people, and yes…of course…zombies, will find themselves impaled by the most mundane of domestic items.
And that’s why we need to relax.
Zombies at your door with a collection of arrows and broom-handles sticking out of where you aimed should not be something to look forward to for such a collection of us as we are.
Why do we feel the need to do this? Why do we feel as though we need a zombie apocalypse?
A chance to start anew.
From the moment that begins, you’re are 90% more interesting because finally something happened to you- and you’re likelihood of being some sort of hero in your own story is multiplied to a degree that matters to you.
Credit history lost, the waste of years lost, all that time in traffic gone, no longer such a thing as a migraine because you don’t have time…
With less people, you feel like this Earth is suddenly a whole lot larger and the chance of you making it yours are finally nearer to that 100% that you have always secretly craved.
And though this is not a flawed feeling, it is a lack of understanding.
The chance for you to rule the Earth is perpetually immediate, although obviously easier for some than others- but still ‘achievable’ (growl).
You just needed to meditate first…and then move along with the home-defence.
Ten minutes a day of silence, eyes closed, lovely posture and a focus on what you want is a way towards the wonders that you are meditating for. You will think more clearly, and you will be more self-aware and open to whatever comes your way, you will be willing to start something…a challenge is an opportunity to become and to learn. As for the soul, and all that…whatever- I feel it is a placebo that works for the personality.
The only aside of this from home defence is that you allow people in as freely as a public park- possessions will fuck you over and eliminate your pocket space. So let them go, in and out, forget your things so as to remember your people and yourself.
If you’re being attacked- then be equally violent back: meditation is a personal thing that is relevant to whatever you conjure up in your life. If your decision is to punch a violent attacker, then maybe a little mediation will aid you and your knuckles.
Defend yourself- certainly, and hunt often, but do not be prepared to shut yourself down and away as though the rest of the world is contaminated.
As much as we are our own species greatest predator, when one of us is endangered or infected, we are all our saviour and our cure.
I have a bow and arrow, for home-defence, hunting, and for acquiring that enormous feline that makes myths about my locality.
I also have a C# key, liberated from an abandoned glockenspiel.
I have realised that when creating a great impact with this key- it makes a deep vibrating sound much like that of a Buddhist gong
This reminds me of the time I travelled in Northern India, Himachel Pradesh, Dharamsala, McLeod Ganj, and I am temporarily transported to that place, by the temple, over-looking the valley of the lower Himalayas, and I am peaceful.
I am also ready to defend myself- which I had to as was attacked by monkeys shortly before hand, which is far less amusing than you are probably imagining right now. You might find it slightly funnier now though, as I tell you that they attacked whilst I interrupted their oral sex.
So when I am attacked- I have a meditative aid to deliver a blow to the forehead of my unfortunate aggressor. It goes “Dong”, whilst the forehead makes an altogether crunchier sound.
What home-defence offers you is a feeling of preparation to deal with what is coming in your life. Meditation is an actual way of preparing to deal with what is coming in your life.
Mediation is a means of defending your true home- your mind, and herein is the link between the two, but the distinction between them is still constant: home defence encourages keeping others out whilst mediation espouses a yearning to enjoy other people so as to either invite them in or knock on their door.
Prepare your mind, not your doorstep, unless you are expecting some of those guests you’ve gone and acquired.
Host the world, neighbour to all.