Greetings all. Today, I have another semi-mechanical poem, inspired by the below picture by the lovely and talented Sarah Hogman. Enjoy.

Mimes in the form of god on high,

wandering, wishing at the will of the one,

the one who rules from the clouds and the sky, the one holding all the strings, commanding, controlling all these misbegotten earthbound things,

this battalion of half-baked, blank-faced creatures on wires,

hanging slumped, jaws slack,

joints swiveling, like someone started building toy soldiers, someone had a dream of something great ,

something that could lift earth to the heavens, shine brighter than an immortal soul, and talk to gods.

But the toys turned ugly, and their creator could not stand to look at them, so he abandoned them, twisted his dream, and started trying to drag heaven down to earth instead.

And now these half finished crash test dummies hanging like a world full of incomplete suicide attempts,

and all the demons staring up at a torture even they couldn't devise:

Hundreds of marionettes hauled up by the strings and made to make war on each other, no evil in their minds, no goodness in their hearts, because they have no minds to manufacture good intentions to pave the road to Hell with, no hearts to be pure of to ascend to heaven with,

so nobody wins.

Except for the termites feasting on fallen toy soldiers, littering the rocks, because eventually when you make puppets dance long enough, kill for long enough,

they cut their own strings.

and eventually the termites will devour all these puppets, and nothing left but sawdust.

and eventually the demons will find other worlds to corrupt.

and eventually all the gods they made will fade into failure, just like their string-bound servants.

But those marionettes are laughing in whatever afterlife they may be occupying, singing:

"I've got no strings, to hold me down,

To make me kill, to make me drown."

and the gods would be enraged if they hadn't disappeared when their minions had.

and eventually in this empty land of sawdust,

new rulers will arise over all others, simply because they are the only ones left.

and eventually every world ends in dust,

every mechanization ends in rust,

and the crown always falls down to those who are willing to survive after all others have died.

and, eventually, in a land of wooden warfare,

the termite is king.

Productivity

Hello all.

Today I am actually getting stuff done. Weird huh? I am doing a ridiculous amount of writing today, not even counting writing on this blog and my other one, and, as usual, drinking enough coffee to power a small car. Good times. In other news, I have, for your entertainment and edification, listened to four consecutive Justin Bieber songs (and I use the term song loosely).

I honestly do not know what the hell people find enjoyable about this. He sounds like a girl, (he sorta looks like one too) his lyrics are clichés at best, and he did a song with Ludacris. Oh. My. Dear. Lord. He did a song with Ludacris!! I don't always enjoy Ludacris's music, but I always appreciated it before this travesty. Okay, I'm all calm now (maybe all that coffee was a bad idea. Naw.) and am going to end this rambling blob of text before somebody gets injured. In conclusion, I don't know what I'm talking about. But I never let that stop me!

The Apology

Hello folks (Yes, all five of you). I wish to apologize for the lack of posts here, but I am rather busy and/or lazy, and have been unable to find the time to keep up two blogs. That said, there should be an increase in stuff on this blog in future, as I have had my hours cut. Booooo.

So let's kick this off with a question to Stephanie Meyer. Yeah I went there, you knew it was gonna happen sooner or later.

Dear Stephanie: With the Twilight series at it's close, and the movies progressing nauseatingly, are you going to start a new series for me to laugh hysterically at?

I know, I know, easy target right? But really, the fact that Twilight has received the amount of attention that it has, makes me want to take up book burning, and not only that, but have you looked at the teen/young adult section at your bookstore? It looks something like this:

Vampires, vampires, vampires, cheerleaders, vampires, geeks, vampires, vampires, football players, cheerleaders, vampire cheerleaders, zombies, vampires, zombie football players, Etc.

So not only has Stephanie Meyer created a sappy necrophiliac of a monster that seems to find it's way everywhere (like on this blog for example) But she's contaminated the entire genre!

I never thought I would miss Thirty Days of Night, but Edward Cullen has caused me to do so, Edward, whose purpose in life is to make Blade no longer the lamest vampire ever.

God, where's Bela Lugosi when you need him.

Redefining the Wheel, Continued.

Welcome back to Redefining the Wheel, this week I have another couple of amusing (hopefully) redefinitions for you.

Enjoy.

Redefining the Wheel, Second installment.

Evil: Financially detrimental to oneself.

Teacher: A person who lacks the capacity to learn.

Aardvark: A large protruding snout, with a small fuzzy mammal attached to the wider end.

Focus: To ignore all of your surrounding environment.

Coma: See Focus.

Redefining the Wheel

Hello folks, and welcome to the first (hopefully) weekly segment of this blog.

The segment in question is inspired by a man named Ambrose Bierce, who wrote a book called The Cynic's Word Book, later retitled The Devil's Dictionary.

In this book Bierce offered tongue-in-cheek, and very cynical definitions of words, ranging from:

History: An account mostly false, of kings mostly fools, and soldiers mostly knaves. To:

Admiration: Our polite recognition of another's resemblance to ourselves.

Now, for your reading pleasure, I am going to take a leaf out of Mr. Bierce's book (pardon the pun) and share with you my some of humble continuations of his vitally important work.

Redefining the wheel. First installment.

Pop Music: Whichever of the noises available to us that irritates our parents the most.

Vacuum Cleaner: A marvelous device which removes the dust from the corners of a room, and spreads it judiciously around the whole of the room.

Obvious: Possessing the quality of being completely mysterious to you.

Celery: See Cardboard.

Anchor: A device, the purpose of which is to be thrown over the port side of the ship, at any moment most inconvenient to those on board.

Thank you for reading, hopefully you enjoyed, and if so, check up again next friday, and hopefully I shall have another installment for you.

Cheers.

Captain Background.

South Park/Stupidity

Recently, the famously controversial TV series 'South Park' released an episode which featured, among other things, the prophet Mohammed in a bear costume.

This clearly vile and satanical act prompted a Muslim internet group to issue a "warning" to the show's creators Matt Stone, and Trey Parker.

The warning was as follows, quote:

"We have to warn Matt (Stone) and Trey (Parker) that what they are doing is stupid, and they will probably end up like Theo Van Gogh for airing this show." Unquote.

Theo Van Gogh was a Dutch filmmaker killed by an Islamic militant over a movie he made accusing Islam of perpetuating violence against women.

Allow me to begin my rant by saying that South Park is a comedy program. It is meant to poke fun, make light of, and otherwise ridicule, well just about everything, and if you don't find it funny, then don't watch the show. Thinly veiled death threats to it's creators are not necessary.

That being said, any group of people with this little of a sense of humor, is a sad statement in and of itself. People should leave comedy alone and not try to censor it because they don't like the subject material. If you dislike the making fun of something you find to be important to you, the solution is very simple: watch something else.

There are no subjects that 'Aren't funny' or that you 'shouldn't joke about'. In comedy, everything is up for grabs, and if you attempt to bar your entertainment from touching certain subjects, then we start to veer dangerously close to becoming one of those futuristic, dystopian novels we love to read. Or to put it another way, Singapore.

End Rant.