Oh, the Irony!

It's like Nikolaus Otto being the first person to get hit by a car.

Or Ben Franklin dying in an electrical fire.

The inventor of the condom contracting HIV.

"The owner of Segway died on Sunday riding one of his company’s electric scooters off a cliff and into a river.
The 62-year-old millionaire Jimi Heselden crashed into the River Wharfe in Northern England while inspecting his North Yorkshire estate, according to multiple reports.

Read More" http://www.wired.com/gadgetlab/2010/09/segway-death/#ixzz10lGLrEsF

And just yesterday I was saying to Patty "Every one's gonna be rolling around on fn' Segways, etc."

Back up, buddy!  It's as if someone wanted to prove me wrong.

"You can't predict the future! See? *SMASH* What are we gonna be riding on now, smart ass?"

Well for one thing, now would be a good time for someone to start promoting Scooty-Puff Jr...

And considering this is never going to be a reality...

We need some alternatives, don't we.

Is this the end of the Segway as we know it? It's decline in a world driven by doubt & fear?

Now I wish I had patented the wild wacky action bike.

God Damned Cheese Giraffes

Because it's perfect.

Because Toys R' Us is now Chuck E' Cheese, and an old acquaintance named Geoffrey is having a b-day party at 30, AT Chuck E' Cheese, and the giraffe's gonna sing to him because he's now eaten the mouse & taken over & the whole shit house has gone up in flames.

More premonitions of the future?

Or just what happens when you're completely discombobulated for weeks straight.

Up is down, down is up, and thoughts are as good as explosive diarrhea - consumed by the delirious mayhem of it all.

THE issue here is the inability to write frequently due to this state of mind, combined with bouts of complete exhaustion, and then bouts of utter restlessness that actually paralyze my thoughts, I'm so overstimulated.

Distraction that is
Turn on, tune in, drop out is the message here.

A lot people in this world probably don't have as much to say as I do.

Got to etch my path in this new world I should have jumped into AGES ago, when I first wanted to be a well known blogger, & keeping it moving.

I know the jolt is right here, at hand.
That, or I'm about to shit my pants.
Which I NEVER, EVER do, unless it's a leap year & there's an excuse for it or something.

Either way, something new & exciting is taking place. A WHOLE new beginning, rebuilding ourselves from the ground up, as we've been talking about on the outside, as Saturn talked about, that roid-raging shitbag of a ball of shit, floating around the atmosphere, causing shit winds on earth. That's a lot of shit to handle, pardon me.

Blogs, dirty skivvies, cheese giraffes, it's all part of a major movement.

A movement that says "Whatever the fuck just happened in here, I need a better schedule, & a proper soul cleansing."

Letter to My Monkey

Dear Bananaface,

I know I'm about two months late for your birthday, but as the saying goes "Better Late Than Never", and mama definitely thinks it's time for some appreciation here for her snugglemonkey.

I loved my stuffed animals as a kid. I was a strange kid who always collected the weirdest ones - A stuffed raccoon, a blue mouse, a stuffed hot dog.

Yes, you read that correctly - A stuffed hot dog, named Frank.

May he rest in peace. Or more so, may his legs rest in peace, seeing they were ripped off at a birthday party, Chuck Taylor's n' all. The 80's were fucked. That hot dog was fucked, but he was AWESOME.

The problem was, was that my stuffed animals didn't love me.

I guess you could call me one of those allergy geeks; cats, dogs, dust, dust mites, bees, anything fluffy that's not hypoallergenic or non-allergenic, the sap & surfaces of certain plants, etc.

So when I went to actually snuggle up (My favorite thing to do in the whole world with anything like a hopeless whore) into this mountain of cheap, fluffy fur on my bed, no more than a few minutes later would I be shedding tears & itching.

So, it goes without saying that I couldn't get too close with my stuffed animals & definitely not have them near my face.

(Did I mention Popples & shit? Like 5 of em', one inside of another, inside of another, but that's another topic for another time)

Around 4 years ago, on some kind of strange & sudden, nonsensical credit card binge from hell, involving leis, liquor, yo-yos & sandcastle molds, the best lil blessing came into my life - My non-allergenic terry cloth snuggle buddy, and that is an understatement.

I've had a few lost nervous breakdown nights due to leaving monkey behind, yes just like a child.

Though for some reason people seem to think this is cute (even at 28) & this monkey gets a lot of love, respect & attention.

So, back to you my lil snuggle star.

I love the way you:

• Never leave my arms all through the night. Even if I'm just holding your arm & don't have you in a head lock.

• Make a great, awesome, cozy, comfy, snuggly pillow when I'm really in need of one. But unfortunately, don't actually smell like bananas.

• Lay across the front of me with your head snuggled up next to mine if I'm sleeping on my back, & we both have our arms out like wings, but one of yours is wrapped around my head (Like I'm sleeping in a flying monkey freakshow) - "When the head lock turns. Mauled by a monkey in my sleep".

• Can flop & move around 1,000,000 different ways & hug me with creepy velcro hands if I want.

• Your head rests so perfectly under my chin.

• Are always smiling.

  

Mommy's gonna fix your nose & eye, falling apart like Michael Jackson monkey.

All my love. You've been the best.

My Nose

Nose no boundaries........

And I looked scared shit. I was, that there would be a picture of me out there partying a "horrid version of a clockwork orange", so my girlfriend called it.

"It tickles a bit pahverted like, doesn't it?" In her English accent.

WTF does that MEAN?

I can't really piece together a phallic rubber nose, "perverted" & "tickles" unless you were at my bunghole whispering to spirits.

We've Heard of Wordless Wednesday

How about a Speechless Saturday picture of the day....

Dad's Dream Came True

Or rather, his dream became a dream.....
Clearly, a lot of classic rock enthusiasts love The Beatles, but like my dad does, I'm not so sure......

I think George & John were always his favorites, but hey, seems he got his hang time with Mr. Harrison after all.

In joining him for a slice yesterday afternoon, he randomly brings up that he had a dream from the previous night where he was riding in the car with George & Paul.

And from the bright red, cheery smile & laughter to himself I saw in my 56 year old dad's face, they all had a grand old time. (Really laughing to myself as I write this) He's a character.

Because of him, I was sporting a Sgt. Peppers tee at 10. But if it were my dream, I'd expect some psychedelic Yellow Submarine style, Care Bear fn cloud car ride.

Theories of Evolution

No, this is not a post on how we came to be. Better yet it's on wtf we are to become........

George Jetson, flying cars, contraptions that feed, bathe & molest your dog all in one.....Could it be?

I was once a skeptic on such a whacked out, robotic-like, 80's coming back in the WRONG way (Actually meaning it's just wrong for them to come back at all) type of future society, but the more I think about it, the more I'm shit scared of these floating neon rings & things.

(And what will the goddamn music be like?)

Sometimes it feels almost as if we've reached the pinnacle of technological advances, or rather that we don't have much further to go till we've reached the sky, but even just a short walk through history will prove that limit is infinite, way beyond the skyline when you see how far we've come.

You laugh at those poor bastards who were big in 2000, listening to The Verve in their Jnco jeans, don't you?
(Even if you were one, you're laughing) And how they were laughing at those clowns in Z Cavariccis & high tops, after those foot loose, plastic covered, Cocaine freaks whippin' it to Devo. Back to Saturday Night Fever 70's & the hippies before them they were laughing at for not breathing cocaine & having terrible taste. The soda shop, high school hop, knocked up in the back of a 57 Chevy era. Swingin' fuckin' 1940's, hello Hitler, Wtf happened here.

My great grandma was born in 1907. They had no car. but she had a horse.

"Why don't you get on your fn horse, go to the office & fax this over for me." Sounds good nowadays.

I'm just glad she wasn't here. 

SEE, what fuckin' went on before people had the internet to cure their boredom.

Technology in general. Bet you the whole thing started because some mofo couldn't call up another mofo over a misunderstanding, so the other mofo got pissed & was like "Fine, I'm just gonna fuckin' blow em' up now." Therefore, it's no doubt evolution has done much in the way of good. But what is "good" as we know it these days? We could all give ourselves goddamn brain cancer for all we know, blow ourselves up in the long run, before the science of nature even gets to us...

(Or is it the nature of science? Either way, it's one of them that's gonna say it's time to go)

I think my point here is I see things getting too strange too fast, and at the same time on the way to achieving what only seemed the wildest dreams to previous generations (all part of that strangeness). Thus, my conclusion is that we walk blindly into this headset hooked, GPS fiber-optic dog future, yet advancing at an amazingly rapid rate too fast to even keep up with.....

So wtf are the clowns ten years from now, laughing at the "in-advanced" way we're living in the present going to be/look like? And who was the asshole to run out in leggings, giant plastic jewelry & neon plastic sunglasses with a fn zebra purse like "OMG, you guys, we gotta bring this shit back!"

And who were the idiots to follow? If all your friends had sex with goats, would you?

So who had it right?........

Only time will tell...