This place needs a new smell. Or a window. (Also a vendetta against God).

Posted: November 4, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: Brief...therefore witty. | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I don’t do ‘deep-dives’ into topics for these writings, so what follows might be best described as a ‘splash’.

Or maybe a ‘plop’?

I was about to suggest ‘tinkle’ too, but I really need to focus, especially as that’s what I didn’t seem to be able to do last night.

I went to a pool-hall last night and lost 7-0 to my wife. I don’t think I played particularly badly, but luck wasn’t on my side and my wife’s simple superior in everyway.

You’d probably imagine that I was feeling a little low from this felt low, which I was after the first loss.

By the 4th loss I was trying to start conversation on I’m knowledgeable on so I could retain a degree of….something. I don’t know if being down 4-0 has a counter equivalent, especially intellectually.

It’s never the case that something doesn’t matter because: “yeah, well, I’ve got a degree…”

My wife had even started being sympathetic, which made the whole thing worse.

As I said, I wasn’t playing badly, just bad luck after bad luck. I seemed to pot the white after every shot and every ‘cert’ I hit bounced back out of the pocket.

I could be tempted to say there was something else at play here. Because there was, and it might have been Jesus.

No matter the deity, I needed to get something out of the evening so decided it might as well be a religious experience.

And this pool-hall setting suited a religious experience down to the ground.

Full of men, mostly bearded, with one woman doing really well and making them all feel uncomfortable (“shouldn’t be allowed. she’s got tits to lean on. unfair advantage. dependable tits.”)

No windows too. And that is a bit odd – I don’t think my pool game is worsened by sunlight.

And a smell that wasn’t really there. Vaguely cleaning fluid – but it could have been so much more.

It could have been the sort of smell you can see. Wherein part of the ceremony involves wafting it.

What else does one waft, than a visible whiff.

There was no clear dress code (they even allowed trainers), but I feel some particular garb would have been appropriate. Something oddly stiff in certain areas, made from the faux-version of an animal that doesn’t exist any more. Or a fish.

With all that in place, the stiff garb, the visible whiff, the lack of sunlight and no women – then I could really get mad.

7-0, someone has to pay.

And they will. So now I’ve decide to launch a campaign of annihilation against God.

Surely it was He that guided my white balls to the pockets, He that caused every good shot to reject gravity and bounce-out instead, He that encouraged my wife to be extra-nice to me, making me feel all the more minimal.

That’s probably why he created the world; so I could lose at pool last night. That’s how it felt, anyway.

Having a vendetta like this, especially against the Divine, is very liberating.

Very freshing.

Why did I get out of bed today? To wreak sweet vengeance on the creator!

Why did I go back to bed shortly afterwards? Because I forgot it was a Saturday and we all felt fancied a lay-in, but the urge to destroy heaven is still there.

I’ll give you an update on the progress of that soon.

Quickly to clarify before signing off: pool-halls are religious but could be more so, and that ‘God’ – oh he’s going to get it.

Sam

Yes, I have a vengeance cabin

Posted: November 5, 2019 | Author: | Filed under: Brief...therefore witty. | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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.

That’s better.

Sam