Story Time

Ok kids every now and then I'll indulge my creative side and give you a story, so enjoy it while it lasts, as my creativity may be limited to very short intervals.

The Last trailer in the line
Rhonda lived in a trailer park in Buckwheat Texas, she had done for about ten years now, it was a comfortable life but as with everyone she had always wanted more. She sat on the lawn furniture outside her trailer one Sunday evening wondering wether it was worth going to work the next day, the drugstore would still be there, and it wasn’t as if there was anyone who could replace her if Grant the chemist, her boss chose to fire her. She turned and looked over the trailer park, the trees to the left and the rest of the trailers to the right, and then the train lines that where right in front of her. Past them the town of Buckwheat itself, it was a small town noted for its lack of anything, in fact on the way into the town there was a sign saying "Buckwheat, what did you expect" it had a small population of about 300 people, most of them farmers or workers in the steel mill. They had a bar called Bensons that was right in the middle of town and on Friday night usually held most of its citizens. But business had dropped off recently since the cult of the Diamond Flowers had moved in at the old Haptens farm, a few miles from town.

Next to the Bar was the pharmacy where Rhonda worked, well she thought of it as work but really it was where she watched her shows in the daytime. On the other side of the bar was the market. It was the place where everyone shopped, for everything, absolutely everything, except of course for drugs, which Rhonda sold. Past that was the gas station which strangely had gone unattended for the past 12 years, deliveries where made every week but no one had owned it since Phil Doherty the old owner died on a fishing trip. The autopsy revealed that he had choked to death on burly after being dared by his friend Jason Smore to eat as much as he could; Phil was not a smart man so Jason was convicted of murder as everyone knew that Phil would do anything you told him. Jason Smore was put to death, in his home in Buckwheat, by firing squad whilst he sat in his favourite chair in the lounge room, the firing squad had done the usual thing of only one person having the real bullet in there gun but one that day deputy Smith was at home sick, so after half an hour of the firing squad shooting at Jason from point blank and not knowing wether they were just bad shots or none of them had the bullet the sheriff had to stand in and finish the job. By now you may have guessed that Buckwheat was not a normal town, and was rarely inhabited by normal people, one of which was the sheriff, Stan Daley, who was also the mayor and the judge, so it was fitting that the bullet came from him. In fact most encounters with the law resulted in fairly harsh penalty being handed out, so there was actually very little crime in Buckwheat. Stan Daley had a saying "you like dogs until they sh*t on your lawn", what it meant the town didn’t really know but they took it to heart and kept there dogs on leashes just in case.

But Rhonda had never really had any trouble with the sheriff she didn’t have a car so she couldn’t get a parking ticket, she kept out of most peoples way, she thought it best to just leave people be, if they wanted to talk they come and tell me she had always thought. She rose from her lime green lawn chair and went back into her trailer, she was hungry, or bored she never knew but as momma used to say idle hands are the devils play things, so like her momma used to do she made some food, perhaps that was why like her momma Rhonda was edging in at three hundred pounds. Before she knew it a pickle and turkey loaf sandwich had appeared in front of her, she turned and walked through her kitchen slash living room and then through her bedroom curtain to her bedroom, lying on the bed she crammed one half of the sandwich in her mouth and flicked the on switch on the TV remote with the other hand. It was 7.30 pm so the public access channel would be on; it was her favourite as it was frequently showing the Buckwheat conversation hour, hosted by Dorothy Mixer the local town gossip, which was odd because for the last three years she had been a complete shut in. For the purposes of the show she had set up a special TV studio in her basement, she had no idea what was going on in the town so she basically made everything up, or so the town thought, sometimes she did get things fairly close to the truth although no one would admit it.

This night though the conversation hour was not on; some of the members of the Diamond Flowers cult had the station and were trying to recruit members, though not very enthusiastically. So Rhonda turned off not really in the mood for being brainwashed, well at the moment anyway, she had toyed with the idea of joining the cult as they had some fairly nice accommodation up at the farm, but she had always been afraid of the stigma that went along with being a cult member, plus every Friday at the bar normal town citizens got drinks at half price, and that was a perk that kept most of the town from joining. The TV got turned off and she got up from the bed and stood in front of the mirror gazing at her reflection in the glass. Where had it all gone wrong she wondered? She hadn’t always been this weight but her life before Buckwheat hadn’t been this easy, with out the everyday fight of life she had started to relax just a little too much.

To be continued

As seen on TV: Seriously Summer

Well kids its time to open the filing cabinet of the mind and delve into the depths of idiocy to choose another example of the great expanse of nothingness on the box. This time we look at the promo for seminally third in the ratings station channel Ten, the true reason for so much teen pregnancy no doubt. The promo itself is designed to instill in the viewer the idea that watching channel ten through out the summer will be a rewarding experience. And as I've been doing that myself I can say without a doubt, that amputation is a rewarding alternative to the dross that graced my screen for this summer of my life.

The promo starts and we sit through all the bright pretty colors that we associate with Ten from blue to yellow and then back again, a little to dimensional you say well thats channel Ten for you. But in between these splashes of monotone color we are treated to a slideshow of images of people young and old, though mostly young enjoynig the outdoors anfd the summer like only channel Ten can show us how. We see people frolicking on the beach holding hands, as only watching said channel will allow you to do, its amazing how many people come up to me on the street and proclaim to me how channel Ten has saved thier marriage and family life, "Pope Terry" they say "You must spread the good word about channel Ten it has saved us" after a few quick slaps they seem to go away.

It continues people play guitar and dance in the ocean, lay on the sand two funky old ladies float by in inner tubes, oh my summer on ten is great. But wait whats this, I realise that througout all theses scenes of joy and gay abandon , there has only been one scene that could be people watching tv, we see a few happy souls holding a remote, but we dont see a tv, the could be doing anything. So a promo to advertise how channel Ten is the one to watch all through summer doesnt have anyone watching tv in it. What is the message here watch it because these people arent or summer on Ten is so lacking of any quality viewng that you'd be better off at the beach. Ah honesty, its a good thing.

As seen on TV: Would you like sausages with your transmission

Well hello kids, its me again, the paragon of internet style since well about a week ago. But not to worry the more you read the more you will agree with me that everything is fine. Well this weeks episode brings us to a familiar source of puzzlement. Yes kids this week we open for the first time the As seen on TV file and thumb through the mass of idiocy to find a gem worthy of shining. This week we look at Ford Australia, and there genious advertising campaign to flog their new car. Let me set the scene, its a market in a small German town in a small German country, probably very similar to well, Germany. One man wrapped in atire befitting a motorcyclist approaches a stand adorned with motor vehicle parts. A conversation takes place about said transmissions, this ones bad for fuel, this one cant handle torque, this one doent like fish etc.

Motorcyclist is looking a bit dissapointed at this point in time, he poses the question any German would at a moment such as this. "Ver are your best tranmissions", the reply from our stocky meat and engine part supplier is "Ford Australia has them". By jove this is exciting at this point, I have trouble sticking around to view the commercial with such an exciting story line. Concerned our motorcyclist asks the fate of these second class automotive products, and here's the punchline to our little story, our German friend replies "I'm flogging them with free snags". Oh my how I laugh at this everytime I see it.

But wait one moment, being a citizen of the upright variety I cant help but think of what this ad implies, Germans make good transmissions no doubt, but what else. Then its hits my like a car with a Deutschland built engine in it. It all becomes so very clear that Ford Australia in its great wisdom has purchased and implanted in their new model car, the transmissions they purchased from a dodgy German Butcher at some market in Berlin. Wow these cars must be great, how does one get a hold of such a vehicle with this transmission of the future. And how did this one guy become such an expert in the fields of gourmet butchery and engineering. If only all cars could be fitted out with black market parts from our German butcher, we'd all be driving super cars filled with meats and joy.

Well whats the morale to the story kids, dont trust a German with a sausage. Cars go better with transmissions from the old block. I dont know really, but if your willing to trust a butcher with your car, the Germans do it best.

Whats wrong with the world today

Ok kids settle down for another intellectual stouch with the internets only certified whipping boy. Whats wrong with the world today simple you may reply George bush, this could be a good answer but this is only a minor problem. Let me explain, the through out its history has always and will continue to ruled by overbearing powermungers intent on looking after there own social class before the others that need help. It takes a special person to want to rule a country, and that type of person is the one that really shouldnt be ruling the country. A tyrant is still a tyrant even if some chose for him to rule. you see George will be gone in another three years or so and some other unfit candidate shall grace the world stage and determine what the world should be with the intelligence of a small aquatic mammal, a beaver maybe, but would you trust a beaver with the world, no its out of your hands so stop worrying and relenquish control to the few that organise your slow fall into the grave. No the aches of the world can be trace to the existence of to things, to small and at first you may think inconsequencial things, but they are the source of what is wrong in the world.

The first is the existense of a machine so purile in its use it boggles the mind to even think why it was invented. Yes kids you may have guessed I'm talking about the lawn edger, the machine devised by Philip F Lawnedger to remove those pesky bits of grass that hang over onto concrete paths. Yes the machine that has spawned an entire industry to be formed to soley help people with the most pointless piece of landscaping equipment in the modern world. I sit in front of my television of a night and watch as the advertisements for these machines transmit into the ether and wonder who is the person willing to pay $150 for a piece of equipment that a pair of scissors could probably replace, and then I realise that this isnt the scary thing. The scary thing is actually there are people out there that genuinely care that these bits of grass invade their paths so wantonly that the only resort is purchase this bladed monstrosity to fix the "problem". Instead of giving this money to charity to help the starving kids or to save the rainforests were the only to remaining spotted warbling parrots remain, they chose to fix the grass that dares invade the only bit of civilty in their garden. No kids George bush doesnt scare, the bird flu doesnt even worry me, what scares the hell out of me is that people care more about three inches of lawn over the problems that face our world.

Secondly and this is from the only in America file is the existence of an organisation that could only be in existence to say to the under developed world "F**k you look at us". Yes its the organisation for competitive eaters. I'm not saying that the occasional hotdog or pie eating contest at the state fair is bad, and I enjoy gorging myself on the fat of the western pig as well, but this takes it to another level. The treatment of people that feed themselves horrendous amounts as proffesiona athletes. Idolised on Espn 84 as the new gladiators of the modern era. Do you ever wonder why terrorist hate us, Its this the advertisement to the rest of the world that we the west have everything, so much so that we have to pay poeple exorbent amounts just to get rid of it. The treatment of proffesional athletes is bad enough but to hoist these whores of democracy up the flag pole with them is ridiculous.

If your wondering what you can do then its this, where ever you are no matter what country, find some friends that will join you and buy some tasers or mase. Start roaming the streets asking random people whether they care how the edge of there lawn looks or whether they think eating proffesionally is no harm, if they answer yes to either question, give them a quick blast. The only thing an idiot understands is pain, and my friends we are surrounded by idiots. There is nothing to fear from those things that your always told to be afraid of, instead watch the person next to you, he may have a lawn edger.

I'm sick of ranting, now its your turn!

A blog is born

Yes finally kids I'm here. Thats assuming anyones reading this, but if not then it is purely an exercise in thought, a way to clear my head and gain the clarity that really only a psychiatrist could give you. The aches of the world will be cured as only I know how so sit back and prepare to wonder at what the hell I'm talking about. So for biting social commentary and other such witty remarks please return and invade my thoughts.