Posted on by robinblipinski

Life of a Stone

Written by: Density and matter

Dr. Morton was a most esteemed professional. A man highly educated and bestowed with papered pedigrees adorning his office walls, each proof of his polished knowledge.

This doctor had knowledge filling the mind of his seventy years of life. A life filled with the education of what biology is and how all life operates. His skills of such spilled out into the realms of chemistry and physics.

As for spirituality his vast experiences had taught him some humility yet only enough to know that there was still a lot more to learn. A lot to discover. A lot to realize. If there were to be a deity, a god, or God or some advanced form of intelligent life, it was yet to be revealed. In the meanwhile Dr. Morton was very secure in knowing how life is, of how it was, and most likely how it will be.

“Dr. Morton, is it possible to create life?” A simple question from a simple student at a University where the good doctor was filling young minds with his knowledge.

“Yes.” A confident reply.

Another student peered at the doctor and said in a loud voice, “Can you create life?”

Some students paid attention to the question, some did not. The doctor ignored the question and continued.

“Can you destroy life?” The same intrusive student asked.

This time the doctor replied, “Yes. That is obvious. Please be quiet.”

The student quickly added a bit of laughter and then took control of the room, the students, the doctor. The student said, “It’s time to continue your education.”

***

Understand words alone, especially the words written in this crude form of communication are painful. A picture would be better yet barely better. The direct connection to the mind from the mind is muuuuch better. It actually is good.

Understand also that the room where Dr. Morton stood was now a swirling cloud of warm fog, a fog filled with vibrations and the caress of a fragrant breeze. A ‘voice’ now entered not only the biological minds of the humans, it entered the air, the wall, the ceiling, the floor. The very dust particles themselves were now learning.

Life: Life cannot be created nor can it be destroyed.

On this plain of existence every piece of what a humans senses can reveal IS alive. A fish. A bird. A fish scale. A birds feather.

For the sciences to say they can create life they can only combine life. The very element themselves are alive.

There is no human that can make an atom, a neutron, a proton. They can only combine or carry or will or desire. To create one must be able to take ‘nothing’ and turn such into ‘something’.

Simple.

Easy.

Sex is an obvious example. The genetic material combined to ‘create’ another conglomeration of genetic material.

A stone. A simple mixture of elements is indeed alive. Proof? Create a rock out of nothing. Question of learning: Is it harder to create a rock or to create a soul?

More simply put, is it easier to create gold than it is to kill an ant?

How then do the sciences you teach doctor, help your students? Are you telling them life evolved out of nothing? Do you believe you can kill an ant or can you better relate to the fact you are merely changing the construct of an ant into ‘something’ else?

This is enough of a lesson for today.

***

The room once more appeared normal. No warm fog. No more vibrations. The students shook their heads in a bit of confusion. The floor once more a floor. The ceiling a ceiling. An ant crawled quickly back into a crack in the wall the the doctor said, “What the fuck was that?”

Posted on by robinblipinski

Boo Hoo

Written by: Waaaaaah

“Suck it up there boy, you want to be a man you gotta act like a man.” The boy was no where near being a man, he was only four years old and in setting the mouse trap per his fathers instructions he got his fingers caught in the snapping device.

“No, you’re not going to get that toy, you were bad today and bad girls do not get rewarded.” Tears fell from the six year old girl and her face was red.

Tears of joy, tears of pain. Necessary or just an accessory of emotions designed to help manipulate the environment?

In a physical sense it does not take much to make any human cry. Inflict enough pain and the body surrenders to tears, screams and lamentation only followed by unconsciousness or death.

However on an emotional level a young mother holding her newborn infant usually springs forth a welling of tears, tears of joy and happiness.

Stereotypes of the past dictated that men are not supposed to cry once they achieve manhood. Crying was relegated to the weak and feminine side of humanity. Today, as with most stereotypes, this is no longer in play.

Today movies are made for children yet with a language designed for adults. Humor. Good humor. The kind of humor causing an adult to cry and a child to giggle and laugh. Romantic travesties designed to support wetting of eyes. Feel goods. Feel bads. Horror. Holocaust.

Crying while watching a cinematic production, there is indeed a story in this.

***

For those who break the laws and get caught by those enforcing those laws the end result is prison. In Deer Lodge Montana there is a prison. A place of incarceration designed to house and tend to those of society better left locked away.

In this particular prison there was prisoner M-1007. His name in society was Joe Hamilton. His crime committed to ensure his residency was one of murdering an entire family. His reason for the crime is that he chose to kill this family because their home was nice and clean. A home with a white picket Norman Rockwell ‘look’. A home that had a pet dog named Sarge that had once growled and barked at Joe as he walked past the home.

There have been studies done on the minds and activities of murderous people. The minds of sick and twisted killers. Lots of studies. Lots of analysis. For Joe his mind was as hard and free of morality/conscious as any mind could be.

Joe is the kind of fella that could give you the makings of a thin smile and then without hesitation stab you for your pudding. As a result he was kept isolated from the general prison population. He spent his day alone in his cell with only a few hours each week to be out in the yard somewhat close to the others yet not within range of lethality.

Prisons have changed from the old times of the West. Back in the day a horse thief was caught red handed (reins in hand) They were then judged on the spot and quickly a rope was flung over a heavy tree branch and the thief hung.

For those ending up in jail via a more civilized proceeding the conditions were not pleasant. Menial labor. Mental torture. In those day many a man cried. There was no radio, television, there was just the reality of serving time in an unpleasant way.

Joe was lucky. He was lucky because he did not have the ability to kill others anymore. He was lucky his sentence was not the actual death penalty. He also was lucky because modern society deemed he be treated with ‘humanity’ and ‘rights’. Unlike his unlucky victims who now no longer had any rights, Joe was able to live almost a normal life.

His food was fair and free of contaminants such as insects or spit. His clothes were clean His mattress firm. He had flowing water to take a shit or wash his hands. Life was not really that bad.

For entertainment he was able to watch a few channels on the floors common television. And while he was unable to communicate or talk with the other prisoners he was able to watch movies, the weather report, the cartoon channel. Throughout it all, not one tear was ever even close to being emitted.

One day. Just another day, Joe lay in his bed and heard some static coming from outside his cell. Rising up and turning his body around he saw a moving black and white picture being emitted from the television. It was in the middle of the night and all of the other prisoners were asleep, or crying, or masturbating, or whatever it is that a man does while serving time in prison.

The prison guards were not conducting rounds and the prison unit was peaceful.

Joe was perplexed. His ears heard no sound coming the the television yet his mind heard a movie being played. The movie was strangely familiar. In this movie the clarity became clear and clearer.

There was a young girl who looked very familiar. She was a young girl laughing and playing with a German Shepard dog on a green lawn surrounded by a white picket fence. Near her was her brother who was intently trying to get his swing underneath a huge tree to swing even higher.

Prisoner M-1007 felt a tingle of fear, he felt sweat erupting, he knew this movie was of the family he had killed. A movie in clear black and white clarity complete with mind numbing steriophonic sound.

Unable to avert his gaze he watched the family live a wonderful life. The mother baking a pie in the kitchen, the father relaxing from a hard day at work. He saw how life was good, how laughter was powerful.

Then, he saw a dark storm filled with dark clouds form. He saw a demon laughing as it flung a bolt of lightning towards the family. He saw himself…

The next day the guards found the dead body of Joe Hamilton curled up in a ball on the floor. His death face wore a look of etched horror and it was obvious the tears had flown from his face as he cried in horror.

For this prisoner his time was now finished. And for what it’s worth, Joe finally watched a movie that made him cry. Such it is when our minds are more powerful than our deeds.

Posted on by robinblipinski

If If If…(only)

Written by: Ignorant regret

So, if you could go back and change an event in history… An old fantasy for ‘thinkers’. “What would you do if you could go back in time and change something.”

Some quick and noble responses are, “I’d go back and kill Hitler,” or “I’d never marry that man in a million years after finding out he is gay,” or, or, or… You can’t and if you could you wouldn’t. Though there is a story in this.

***

A stop sign shows defiance to oncoming traffic. Standing there firmly wearing red and the words, “STOP”. Because of the power of a stop sign most vehicles stop. They stop, look both ways and proceed upon their travels looking for another stop sign to show respect.

Tony was a young hotshot internet something. He did Youtube videos pertaining to the mush society so much craves. Money and woman were a commodity of trade to satisfy his lusts and yearns, cars and property just the means to continue existence his way.

Tony approached a stop sign and being the arrogant person he was most comfortable being, he showed no respect. No, Tony did not even try slow down, he did not even bother to look up from his phone reading a sex text from one of his recent conquests.

Momentum is a wonderful ally of physics. Mass/matter traveling at a particular velocity requires time/energy conversion to bring the travel to a complete stop. In other words, Tony was driving 35mph in a 25mph speed zone and blew by the arrogant stop sign unable to intervene. His speed and course took him across a road where oncoming traffic with the right to proceed, side-swiped Tony’s car.

Normally the sound in this area was pleasant. Birds chirped, children laughed as they played in a school yard located across the street. Sounds of traffic muted as modern cars with modern mufflers barely announce they exist.

After being side-swiped the normal sounds suffered a setback with the tortured sound of metal twisting, a horn wire shorting out causing the horn to bellow like a wounded buffalo. A very intense sound to match a very intense scene.

Across the street some children screamed, running inside to seek safety and guidance from an adult. Inside Tony’s car the airbag deployed and the side of his head experienced some real pain. The other car suffered the same with the exception of a child being killed by the impact.

(silence)

You’re an intelligent reader and already know what happened after the accident. A child killed, a grieving mother driving the other car, Tony in pain and in trouble.

Police came. Reports filed. Ambulance arriving. Typical tragedy to replace tragedy.

Going further into the story, Tony was charged with vehicle homicide. He did time in jail. The grieving mother continued mourning the loss of her child for the rest of her life.

Tony spent twenty years in jail. He learned how to be a bit humble. He learned prison was not a nice place. And when he served his time he left the jail a new man. He also ran into a wizard.

Ha! I know what you’re thinking. Fantasy. Science fiction. Blah, blah, blah… Think what you want, trust me in knowing Tony met a wizard. The wizard was watching Tony from a bench located in a park near the prison. It did not take Tony long to notice he was being watched by a small, strange looking man sitting on a bench.

“Hello Tony, ” the gnarled wizard uttered in a voice sounding sharp and clear.

“Hello? Do I know you?” Tony was a bit perplexed as his mind did not register identifying this person.

“You don’t know me yet understand this. I owe a debt to a friend of mine. A gambling debt. A game I truly love to play. Anyway, my friend wants me to give you a second chance. You could say I lost the game and you won.”

Tony laughed nervously. This old man was obviously not mentally well. And what would you say if you saw a wizard sitting on a bench in a park and he started talking to you as if he knew you?

“What do you want? I don’t have any money. I just got out of jail.”

“Yes. Jail. Wonderful concept. Locking up people for years. Sounds wonderful.” The wizard seemed to drift off for a second until resuming in full voice, “You don’t have to do anything. Just tell me where you’d like to go back into time to change one action you ever did…”

Unbelievable I’m sure for many readers. Wizards. Magic. Second chances. Changing actions. And yet here Tony was given a wonderful ‘gift’. He just had trouble understanding it. Of course in his mind he instantly thought of the day of his accident. That’s it. Just an instant thought. And before he could utter a reply the wizard smiled in glee and said, “Done!”

Tony opened his eyes and noticed he was in his car looking at a sex text from some bimbo in his past, or was it present? Tony was shocked as he remembered the pending accident, the twenty years in jail, and an old man smiling in glee.

He dropped his phone instantly and noticed a big red stop sign, the same arrogant sign he saw twenty years earlier. Stomping on the cars brakes he squealed to a stop just in time to see a smiling mother with her smiling child drive by. The mother actually looked in his direction and smiled. The mother and child ‘once’ the victims of his actions.

Tony was sweating now. He was trying to come to terms with the reality of what did and what was happening. His powerful sport car idled at the stop sign and Tony was brought back to the now when a vehicle behind him honked their horn in frustration.

A bewildered man took his foot off the brake while signaling a right-hand turn. Question: Why right and not left?

Slowly applying fuel the car reached out into the road while turning right. Once fully in the new direction and his heartbeat slowing another car coming from the opposite direction swerved and hit the sports car. The impact was powerful. So powerful Tony was instantly killed. And as with a billiard ball bouncing off a bumper the drug induced driver of the other car carried forward and across the road, skidding up and over the side-walk and ending up in the school yard… A yard where children were playing. Ten children to be exact. Two of which survived and eight which either died quickly or slowly.

Meanwhile, the game continued.

Posted on by robinblipinski · 1 Comment

The Day After.

Written by: A survivor

There became the seen and the unseen, the living and the dead. With a sun rising above a scene unseen ever before with so many eyes no longer left to see.

In the time of years and centuries, great clocks once rang proud around the world. London once had a clock with the patriarch name, Big Ben; sounds now silently locked away in memories no longer alive.

War. A battle of kinetic force waged with great spiritual intensity. Waves of vibration unleashed to combine the music of death with reality. War. What it was good for was the day after.

No longer would the tick-tock sound announce mankind’s travel through days, no longer would fields be plowed and planted in Spring weather and crops harvested in late Summer providing food for those long dark Winter days.

Yesterday there was war. Such a grand war if anyone were left alive to give such a grand title to such a grand scheme. War of light and dark, hot and cold. War of absolute totality.

Even today, the day after the silence now replaced the horror of death and screams. Even today it was quickly becoming impossible to believe such a war could have ever taken place. Impossible maybe if humanity was still alive to give such a statement. It was for an absolute certainty there was no life visible. No insects, no birds, fish, beast.

In the days of old, the days of the humanity, of kings and queens. In those days there was much activity. Animals slaughtered for the feast, grains grown for breads and animal feed. There were nets cast to catch the silvery scaled fins of the sea. So much opulence just regarding what it was that the living inhabitants needed. Those were the old days, today, the day after, it was a special day.

For in a world old, a world given labels of time numbering years in the billions, the world had endured wars of gods, of nature, of time. Cosmic disasters. Biological disease. Alien corruptions carried by comets trying to give seed. An old world used to life/death and everything in between.

So yes, today, the day after was indeed special as buried deep in a cave there did exist life, a life already creeping into the darkness focused upon reality.

Deep in the cave there carried vast reservoirs of pure untainted water. There existed the recent moldering bodies of those survivors now recently deceased. There were piles of preservation of food stocks sealed and unbroken; ready to eat.

Small feet make for small sounds with the chittering/clicking sound now the only language alive on this dead world as even in the deepest canyons of the deepest oceans not even the whale sounds existed or the snapping sounds of crabs now rotting in their shells no longer a home to life.

Indeed, the scene of the day after seemed hopeless for a world now left with dead tides, dead air, dead plants, trees… And yet, there in the cave their crawled a survivor already neck deep in the opulent feast.

All hail the survivor, the day after, the feast! All hail the egg laden cockroaches left to tame the new world on this, the new day!

Posted on by robinblipinski

A Wooden Stool

Items and objects; material in a non material means.

As a high class hoarder (genetic gift) I have traveled this world and admired/acquired many ‘things’. Things of normality and things of non-belief.

Items ranging from a kiss from God to a set a bull elk antlers found at a dumpsite. Items. Things. Memories.

What does this mean? A sickness? A disease? Dragons are known to collect and covet gold while in my laughter knowing they truly collect other things…

“What is it worth?” asked by those coming to my gallery and wondering. The reply, “Whatever it is one wants to pay.” Pay being a dollar or a curse, maybe a blessing or a sneeze. Value is whatever it means.

Lately I have been selling/casting away/throwing away things while attaining a deeper meaning and treasure from the experiences as the dust after years is blown away.

The pictures above are of a stool. A wooden stool of very little monetary value yet hold a story deep and rich as any item can be.

No, the stool is not the crown for the King of England nor a bit coin, which no one can see. It is a memory, a collection, a story. It is today and tomorrow and the next of next until it is yesterday; one of my favorite things.

The story: As an avid collector of anything NOT made of gold…(yuck, cosmic shit if anyone were to ask me) I bid on fifteen chairs being sold by a police department. The police in the small town had just buildt a new station with new cells, new windows, new carpet, new, new, new, so out with the old things.

Online auctions, a place where one can sit naked and sip whiskey while bidding on absolutely anything. Navy aircraft carrier screw shafts weighing more than a semi truck fully loaded. A submarine. A most wonderful and amusing distraction to enjoy while being hundreds of miles away.

On this auction of fifteen chairs, I won. My high bid was $10.00. 10.00 + 6% sales tax+ 10% commission (you do the earth math) and the chairs were mine.

What kind of chairs come to mind when reading this? Office chairs? Metal chairs? Obviously the wooden stool must have been one.

Off with the invoice in my hand, a truck full of corgi’s and a wife rolling her eyes and wondering if maybe there might be a cure for my obsessions. (lucky there is no cure, only relief)

Arriving at the new police station the directions further given were to an old shipping dock located in another part of town.

Pulling up in the truck it was a new adventure trying to find the gnomes in charge of the multiple manmade caves holding all sorts of ‘things’, things to include my newly purchased chairs.

The head gnomes eyes gleamed and in true gnome fashion laughed when seeing me. His friend came in from the dark and he too, laughed. (Gnomes have a unique sense of fashion and humor)

With the formalities out of the way and the minor social verbal tests given and passed, the chairs were released. Chair after chair after chair. Ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. Fifty two chairs were now mine. Chairs of every sort and style. Years of abandoned chairs. One chair actually was covered in faux leopard skin.

The chairs completely filled a 24′ flatbed trailer and the truck pulling it. The wife had eyes either filling with tears of joy or tears of sorrow. The corgi’s were just excited there were some gnomes to torture instead of the usual elves.

Fifty two chairs. A full load. A lot of strange looks driving back home. And once back at home there were calls to friends to be made. A LOT of chairs needed new homes.

Currently as I type this I’m sitting in a very large office chair that was a part of the goods. A wonderful chair and very comfortable and also fireproof. It had to be as I left it next to the heater and instead of bursting into flames, it just melted a little.

And now, the stool. As soon as i saw this stool i fell in love with it. And why? An old, ancient device a man once spent years sitting upon?

Look closely and see for yourself. The screws were of the old guild as were the square nuts. The wood from a tree long ago important and still sporting that importance today.

Look at the vibrant colors heralding the owner of the stool. Notice the scars of life given and taken during the duration of the legs sitting firmly upon stability while chaos unfolded around it.

Yes, there is definitely more to this story. Maybe one day i will write more of this little stool, a stool worth more than money or words, a stool that will always make me smile.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Why?

Why is it that when washing socks in a washing machine there is always a missing one when finished. Seriously, after years of washing socks and being frugal with them I am missing hundreds. Where do they go? I’ve checked the filters. I’ve checked the sofa. Those fuckers disappear without any evidence as to why.

The Beverly Hillbillys are excellent to watch. Jed. Elle May. Jethro. Ha! What a fucking hoot! Raising cows in a tennis court. Those are my kind of folks.

Now why am I writing this shit? Is it because Old Crow is flying into my brain cells? Ha! Fuck yeah.

( Had to delete so you have to resort to looking at the keystrokes just erased. Sorry about that. ((not really)) not sorry for anything except wanting to know where those fucking lost socks went)

Sheriff Giddings once said “Where do you see yourself in five years?” Now the poor sod is sodden.

West Virginia! Whee! Gonna buy a shack and tell the world to get lost. Gonna stay away from the zombies. Gonna catch fish. Gonna watch fire flys. Gonna play with corgis.

Now, haven’t written a poem in awhile, a while, a spell, a bit. And, fuck the poetry crittics. Everyone is a poet whether they either know or don’t have a fucking clue.

(inspired by a humming bird. A real fucking piece of what for me is reality)

***

Concoction

There the hard reality of soul resides

sighing

Giving thanks unspoken while retaining the motions of life.

A small egg tendered with care to give flight to motion

A wing

A prayer

A flight where to meet with air tipped and enrich with flower.

Yes, and always so as to deny only brings the darkness of night

Swirling and twirling and hovering with trial

Always striving to cling to what is real

and Life.

***

(Whee!)

Now, where are those fucking missing socks!

Posted on by robinblipinski

105

Yesterday the temp was 105. Hot. Weird drivers. Crazy planet.

Today watching a hummingbird bury her little head completely inside a flower. Wonderful. 86 degrees. Work done and it’s Friday. Whee! Old crow and diet Dr. Pepper with ice cold ice. Wonderful indeed.

Currently getting a nice foot bath by Orff. Corgi’s are the best plus there is the added benefit of getting enough shed fur that spinning the hair into strands enables more research into knitting corgi hair sweaters. Probably sell them on Ebay for $100.00

“Write everyday,” someone somewhere always says. Write. Write. Write a book. Write a recipe.

Are you a writer? If so, why? Why feel the letters in your fingesr trying to attach themselves to your brain while at the same time pausing to take a drink?

Heard about a guy who wrote a book using only A.I. Why? That’s sorta like asking a toaster to make the bread first.

Rattlesnakes? Fuck, they are EVERYwhere. Mice population has plummeted though. Yellow jacket nests are cropping up everywhere. Everywhere. Everywhere. Where everything is is speeding up their advances towards immortality!

Financial advice: Spend your treasure on whatever you want. Loser it all in the stock market, buy drugs, donate to the lesbian dwarf foundation. And what’s with this GoFund shit? “My daddy lost his left testicle to a rampaging goldfish. Our goal is $500 to buy him an artificial nut made out of clay. Please donate today.”

(sip)

Yep. Just more fucking insanity. Time really does not exist. God really exists. Corgi’s are fucking awesome. Oh, and saw pigman today. Am I sure glad I don’t work for them anymore. (or is it, I sure am glad I don’t work for them anymore? I tend to get confused. Oh look,a pipe cleaner and a shackle in a furnace tempering to make the steel even stronger.)

Oh shit, I just lost my nut sack. Better go get another drink and start a GoFund

Squirrels rock!

Posted on by robinblipinski

no shit sherlock

(no filters, you get exactly what the raw sewage smells like spilling from the mind/fingers)

so proof?

Demons. Just had one double tap and whispered, “Porn. Fucking. Pussy. Go ahead.”

Laughed my fat ass off and ate some cheese.

Did you know that Idaho banned porn on the internet? Well, unless you use a credit card and wash your hands before you play with yourself. That means the kids have learned to use VPN back channels. Puberty is a bitch. Back in the day it was Playboy. Before that it was fairy tales. Before that, well, you don’t want to know what happened. Today though, ha! What a fucking fuck joke.

In case you did not know some facts about this video game you are participating in, your avatar, your identity (complete with clothes, hair cuts, hats, shoes, you)does indeed have free will to navigate the paths of cognitive choice.Amazing choices. Ever choose pain? Ever choose to turn the other cheek? Ever choose to be poor instead of richer than Midas?

When the whispers come and go I too can cum or go. Fight or flight. Ever wrassle a demon? Wild as they cheat and avoid the illusion with a very real form of reality. Example: Imagine kicking Spock in the balls while watching him on a Netflix movie. Not gonna work will it? Now imagine Spock looking all ‘actor’ like and suddenly reaching out of the screen and kicking YOU in the balls…Ouch.

Why write this? Because i am not supposed too yet choose to because it is all a part of wrassling with what is really real. Really? (bonk)

Watching a clip now of a guy laughing as he got caught driving around with his dead wife. If you listen close you can hear her scream. And she is dead. Dead as a 9mm he just laughed about.

No porn.

No accepting the reality of make believe humans just crave.

As for cheese? Much better than what is all around.

Oh shit, forgot to mention the earth cracked last night. A large crack and the hydrant is seeking gravity. Yikes! Rocks go boom boom.

And as Sheldon would say before kicking you in the nuts, “Bazinga!”

Posted on by robinblipinski

This is what happens when i am happy for a second or two.

First, none of anyone reading this know me nor should they. I’m nothing of import or importance. More like a firecracker, a huge firecracker with a dead fuse.

So, i am happy right now because it is sunny outside and my corgi’s, all five of them are inside and happy. Margareta just made some fucking fantastic cream cheese and pepper filling for tonight, and I’m drinking a vodka/huckleberry drink mixed with sarachi sauce, pickled garlics, ice, pepper…a drink I call bloody mess. Fucking awesome. And now the song, West Virginia is playing while waiting for Norway to play true football, not the pussy American football for weak minded beer drinkers.

There will always be moments in your life where you just try and deal with the accepted reality and then there will be those few precious moments where you get to experience happiness. Today. This moment. i am happy.

Yay!

And in this moment, i give thanks for those who allowed a formation of a country trying to cling to freedom. As such in the freeing moment, fuck people for abortion, fuck people who hate God, fuck people who think their shit does not stink, and fuck me for being so wound up in thinking i could make difference as really Life already knows what it wants.

It truly is the small things that matter. Those small tidbits of nothing adding up to one very important thing. Thing: A word to describe what a thousand other words describe more fluently.

I and i hope today somewhere in this somewhat world, others can find fleeting moments of happiness.

Also, (alcohol speaking) when this shell of biological mass is cremated, the smoke will smell sweet with the feeling of Life joining the Wind of Life and celebrating what truly matters.

(now lets see if Norway kicks Paraguays ass tomorrow and if France pretends it is civilized today)

Posted on by robinblipinski

U.s. vS aUsraLiA

So parasite. Friday. Soccer. Who is gonna win the game between the red/white/blue robots and the flip flopping kangaroo people afraid of guns?

“What? Kangaroos, guns, robots… Oh, yeah, been awhile and I almost forgot you are retarded. So obviously you are referring to the world cup. I hate soccer and last night a dolphin from Miami Florida stole my binky.”

So no opinion on whose gonna claim the title Friday of playing with their balls better?

“Nope. However, if I were to bet I’d bet the hookers will win as they will be busy during and after the game.”

Not helpful and yet so you parasite. As a consolation prize though I have a new binky for you as I knew those dolphins were planning revenge for what you did to them last year when you stole their stash of strawberry jam.

“Seriously? You are going to be nice to me? (the parasite looked perplexed though it’s hard to tell if a purple blob is capable of be perplexed, horny, or constipated)

Yep. Here you go.

(silence)

“This is a jar of pennies? What the fuck am I going to do with a jar of pennies?”

Suck on them. Those pennies have been places you’ve never dreamed of. Some I found on the ground outside the convenience gas station store, some I found while cleaning out clogged sewer pipes. I swear you will find sucking on these will taste and comfort you WAY more than any chinese made rubber nipple.

(was that a smile on the parasites face? nope, definitely gas and the emitting smell proved thus)

“Thanks dude. You want to suck on one?” The parasite offered a particularly nasty looking 1964 penny minted in Denver dangling of a tentacle.

Nope. All yours. Gonna go watch the saudi sand moles kick balls at uragay.

“Whatever.”