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Everybody loves Raymond. Really? Reeeeally?!

16 Jul

I think a more appropriate title would be ‘Everybody hates Raymond… And his family, they’re a bunch of cunts as well.’

Firstly, it’s quite a catchy title, well it’s something I’d consider watching at least. Secondly, you’re not committing the crime of false advertising. Honestly, does anyone even like Raymond? Let alone love the fucking twat! And finally, by giving a full synopsis of what the entire sitcom is about in its title, people can decide if they want to watch it from that alone. I mean even someone from my local down-syndrome gang would be able to guess the general plot line of ‘Snakes on a plane,’ unless of course (as is often the case) they’re too engrossed in their alphabet spaghetti to care. But what I’m really getting at is… I’m here to offer a simple solution.

Scrap the title. All it does is scream ‘lies.’

Don’t pay someone $2million for each 30 minute episode. That’s fucking ludicrous! He is READING from a script. He didn’t write this. The (not so) ‘funny’ words that we hear from that o’ so annoying voice are not his creation. This bellmunch gets $2million to act out some shitty scene that’s been done a hundred times before on the show.

RAY
‘Oh no, my Mum’s coming over, quick, lock the door. Quick quick. Now, shhh! shhh!’

RAY and WIFE wait silently crouched next to their front door

MUM comes through the back door

MUM
Hellooooo, Raymond. Hello sweetie?

RAY
The back door! Ohhh no, I forgot! (Raymond slaps his forehead, covers his face and groans)

AUDIENCE LAUGHTER

Is this really funny? No. It’s not. What they should do with that money is invest it in projects that make a difference. Help set up clean water in Africa, build youth clubs for disadvantaged youths, give war veteran amputees prosthetic limbs. Film it all, and show it. Everyone loves seeing an inspiring story. Everyone loves seeing dreams come true. Everyone loves a happy ending. What everyone doesn’t love however… is fucking Raymond.

I got more driftage than ya Mama’s cunt sack

15 Jul

It seems I’m a drifter.
I drift in. I drift out.
In. Out. In. Out.
Drifting.

As to why I have no idea.
No idea.
As I said, I’m a drifter.

A drifter.
That may not mean something to you.
But amongst us drifters.
It does.

A fluctuation can mean ‘o so more.
‘O so more.
Generally…

Do we really need Albino’s?

Many, many things

21 Feb

There are many, many things.

Things that I
See. Hear. Feel

Not all are good.
Yet,
not all are bad.

I see more good
I hear more bad
I feel.

Balanced, yay balanced.

Cat-like balance.
Cat-like.
Without the fur.
No hairballs for me, my throat is clear.
Clear.

Like a sunday morning.
A clear one.
Obviously.

Generally, don’t trust Jews.

Say ‘cheese’ (Strictly halal)

17 Feb

Single wish time machine.

28 Jan

If you had the option to go back and change something in your life, what would it be?

You can only change one thing, and one thing only. You can’t change a football score or a school report card. Nothing like that. It has to be something about your life, a single occasion. Maybe you didn’t go on a date that you always regretted, or maybe you went to something and wish you hadn’t. That sort of thing.

If I could change something it would be… ‘That I’d never visited my uncle on March 17th 1995. I’d probably be able to sit on bar stools without swallowing them if I hadn’t.’

Ravaged.

 

Little. The little feather, little.

27 Jan

This is a little story about a little feather. This little feather was, well, rather little. Yes, little, I think that’s the best way to describe the little feather. Anyway, moving on, this little feather had lived rather a sheltered life, or as sheltered as a little feather could possibly live. You see, the little feather was, hmm how can I put it? Attached, yes yes, attached to what could be considered rather a little bird. The little bird that our little feather was attached to lived in a little shed at the end of a little garden on the back of a little house. This little bird so happened to be the prize possession of a man named Steve Little. Mr Little, who was what some might call ‘a little man,’ loved this little bird more than anything. More than his wife (who was far from little), more than his children (who had grown up and were little no more) and more than any job he’d worked in. He’d tried his hand at many careers, doing a little bit of this and a little bit of that. But nothing, nay nothing could compare to the enjoyment he got from spending time with his little bird. The little bird however, who if we remember housed our hero ‘the little feather,’ did not as such return the love that it was shown from this little man. Nay, the only thing this little bird loved was the little seeds and little pieces of bread it received. It loved little else, and certainly not the little feather that nestled beneath it’s left wing. That’s not to say it singled out this particular feather, no, no, it just didn’t pay much regard to anything other than the little bits of food the little man gave it. The little feather, being a little feather and not as wise or knowledgeable as some of the more larger feathers that it shared accommodation with, would often be upset that it never received any attention. The larger feathers had at times reassured the little feather that the reason it was never shown any attention by the little bird was due to where it was placed. The little feather had questioned whether it could perhaps move to a place where it would be shown at least a little attention. This had made the larger feathers laugh. Not a little, but a lot. Soon afterwards the larger feathers became rather nasty and teased the little feather, which left the little feather feeling a little lonely. All the little feather wished for was a little bit of attention and love, yet this was not to be. Until one day, a day that bore little importance to anybody but the little feather and the little man, everything changed. The day had started like any other day. It was a little bit cold and a little bit wet, but being a little feather nestled beneath the wing of a little bird who lived in a little hut, it being cold and wet had little relevance or effect. The little man had come out of his little house, walked down his little garden path and opened the door to the little hut. Everything was normal. The little mans wife, who as we established was far from little, had opened a little window of the little house and shouted insults at the little man. She was more than a little jealous of her little husbands love for the little bird. The little man sighed a little. This was far from a new experience for the little man, the little bird and the little feather. It happened often. What did not happen often however, was the little man’s far from little wife poking a little rifle out of the little window and firing. A bang echoed around the little garden and into the little hut. The little bird screeched and soared up into the sky, more than a little scared. The little man shouted, at both his less than little wife and his prized little bird. The little bird fell down as fast as it had risen and smashed into the ground near a little plant pot. The little man screamed and shouted, why he even cried a little as he saw a little bit of blood seeping from a little hole on his prized little bird. The little bird was dead. It was whilst the little bird was falling to its death that the little feather had became, shall we say, unattached? Yes unattached. The little feather had became unattached and floated free from the little bird. To say that the little feather was a little scared would be an understatement and a half. Scrap that, it was at least an understatement and two thirds. Possibly seven eighths. It had never known a life without being attached to the little bird, so as it floated along in a little breeze, it was a little apprehensive as to what the future might hold. After some minutes of floating over some little hedgerows and some little paths it came to a rest on a little boy’s hood. It had inadvertently landed in the little playground of the little school that was a little distance from Mr Little’s house. The little boy shrieked as he felt something brush the back of his neck and grabbed the little feather instinctively. The little feather looked into the little boys eyes and saw that he was a little curious. Whilst the little feather was a little scared, he also felt a little wave of hope. This little boy was giving him the attention that he had craved for so long. The little boy stroked the little feather with his little hands and told another little boy to look at his lovely little feather. The other little boy took the little feather off the little boy gently and stroked it as well. The little feather was delighted. These little boys really knew how to give a little feather a loving stroke. It was a far cry from what it had received from the little bird and the little feather felt truly grateful. A bell rang out and the little boys ran towards their little classroom and sat at their little seats placing the little feather on the little table in front of them. The little boys teacher came into the classroom and asked all the little boys and little girls if they’d had a good lunch break. A chorus of ‘yes, miss’ went around the little classroom from all the little boys and little girls. The little boy who’s hood the little feather was feeling so fortunate enough to land on, raised his little hand in the air, and announced that he’d found a lovely little feather. The little feather swelled with pride and felt truly happy. Finally there was someone who would shower him with the attention and love that he had always desired. The teacher (who was in fact rather little yet looked rather large on account of all the little people around her) came over to the table and took the little feather from the little boys little outstretched hand. ‘These are full of germs’ she said and threw it in a little red bin. As the little feather floated down to lie next to some little paper clippings and the remains of an apple core, he sighed, the life of love and attention was not to be. The little feather had experienced a little of it, and that was to be his fill. He had experienced what he had always desired. The little feather was satisfied. The little feather smiled. The little feather was happy.

sentences. better are than. words. letters. mean more. space.

10 Jan

LOWERcase. rendering mean. medium. mode. cases or case – those that define themselves as case or cases but are in fact LOWER.
case.
not to be con-fused, nor fuzzled with the the the whims o whams of case casing. a villainous utterance that speak -> no more -> shall.

where whimsical dealings give but little regard to social norms. forms that be pendent-de on such such. hush, now hush.

inDEED oi, with seasonal changes and changes of season. the eb-flow of flowing eb hinders the hindering of those grubgrab snubbers who would have it hindered beyond hindered. grubbing their way. grabbing their way. cretinous filth

see you starve. they would. future looks dark. future looks bad. down go eyes, down go hopes. times, bad are, times.

yet in this time. in times such-> these -<-> as. Awaken! Awaken!

Get yourself down to
Southampton Way
Peckham
SE15

Go to the Chinese on that road between 12-5pm Mon-Fri and you can get
1. A soup of your choice
2. A main meal of your choice
3. 3 Spring rolls

All for £3.50, and it’s actually really fucking good! If you want further discount, then follow these instructions

1. It has to be the bloke who looks about 38-45. There’s only two other people who work there, one about 70, the other about 25, so it should be easy for you to know which one this is. Also 95% of the time he’s the one who takes your order.
2. Place your order.
3. When he asks for the £3.50, say ‘shut up you Chinese cunt, I ain’t paying’ and wink twice at him with each eye. So 4 winks in total. This is the secret password, it will get you a £1 discount. If you can be kind enough to pass me on as the referrer that would be greatly appreciated, it means I get more chicken pieces in my soup. My referral password is ‘your eyes are hilarious.’
4. Enjoy your discount Chinese meal.

A week without words

24 Dec

I do apologize, I have been.

Away. Different country. Borders. Flight. Effort.

Take what you will from that, and this.

Christmas. Have. Happy. A

Incredible similes from secondary school exam papers. Enjoy!

17 Dec

  1. Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
  2. He was as tall as a 6′3″ tree.
  3. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
  4. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
  5. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
  6. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
  7. The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
  8. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
  9. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
  10. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
  11. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
  12. The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
  13. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
  14. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
  15. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at asolar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
  16. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
  17. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
  18. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.
  19. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
  20. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
  21. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.
  22. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
  23. Even in his last years, Grand pappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it hadrusted shut.
  24. He felt like he was being hunted down like a dog, in a place that hunts dogs, I suppose.
  25. She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
  26. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
  27. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
  28. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
  29. “Oh, Jason, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
  30. It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
  31. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
  32. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
  33. The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
  34. Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
  35. Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”
  36. The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
  37. The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
  38. She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
  39. Her pants fit her like a glove, well, maybe more like a mitten, actually.
  40. Fishing is like waiting for something that does not happen very often.
  41. They were as good friends as the people on “Friends.”
  42. Oooo, he smells bad, she thought, as bad as Calvin Klein’s Obsession would smell if it were called Enema and was made from spoiled Spamburgers instead of natural floral fragrances.
  43. The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
  44. He was as bald as one of the Three Stooges, either Curly or Larry, you know, the one who goes woo woo woo.
  45. The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747.
  46. Her eyes were shining like two marbles that someone dropped in mucus and then held up to catch the light.
  47. The baseball player stepped out of the box and spit like a fountain statue of a Greek god that scratches itself a lot and spits brown, rusty tobacco water and refuses to sign autographs for all the little Greek kids unless they pay him lots of drachmas.
  48. I felt a nameless dread. Well, there probably is a long German name for it, like Geschpooklichkeit or something, but I don’t speak German. Anyway, it’s a dread that nobody knows the name for, like those little square plastic gizmos that close your bread bags. I don’t know the name for those either.
  49. She was as unhappy as when someone puts your cake out in the rain, and all the sweet green icing flows down and then you lose the recipe, and on top of that you can’t sing worth a damn.
  50. Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.
  51. It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.
  52. Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake.
  53. You know how in “Rocky” he prepares for the fight by punching sides of raw beef? Well, yesterday it was as cold as that meat locker he was in.
  54. The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.
  55. Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an inattentive phlebotomist.
  56. The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 10 percent cyan, 10 percent magenta, 60 percent yellow and 10 percent black.


    Originally posted on the now defunct… losteyeball.com

What is to come…

9 Dec

Marijuana.
The real reason it was made illegal.
How it could save this world.

Pharmaceutical companies.
Why they are the scum of this world.
What they don’t want you to know.
Why cancer will not be cured in your lifetime.

Facebook sued again
“Mark Zuckerberg stole our idea”

Scientology
Taking a look into what they believe
A profile of L. Ron Hubbard- a drugee and a drunk.

AND MORE… If you have any subject you would like addressed, let me know. Or if you feel you have written something that fits into the mantra of ‘The Gash Write,’ once again, let me know, you could be a guest writer.