(written 18 December 2008)
Inventions:
Shooting right to the top of the frikken best invention ever is the mosquito net – that translucent tent of peace within whose dusky drapes I slumber unsucked by mrrrrrring mozzies. If you’re a kid or a moron, you go “The Wheel. The greatest invention is the wheel” but you’re wrong. You can keep your stupid wheel, in your garage. But what of the oft-unsung floor – that most subtle and fantastic invention of mankind? True – the floor is way up there, maybe even no 2. I mean think of all the great stuff that you have because you have a floor instead of an untreated patch of lumpy earth in your lounge.
Jesus is also a really great invention – he’s almost as popular as the wheel – but according to Google’s law of authoritative links, the mozzie net wins hand down. Picture the scene: Nazareth, 1962. The German army approaches and Jesus stirs fitfully on his bedroll – the mozzies are bad tonight. He wakes and shouts into the night in anger: “Jesus Christ. Frikken mosquitos – I wish I had a bloody mosquito net!”. Now I know this is an anachronism – “Jesus Christ” wasn’t the go-to phrase for expressing animosity and negative feelings about a situation in 24AD – but that’s entirely beside the point: The Mosquito net is a better invention than Jesus.
White boys can’t dance:
And the reason is Nickelback. How crap are Nickelback? Have you ever tried to dance to Nickelback without a beer in your hand? Can’t do it. Impossible. You just can’t dance to Nickelback, unless you’ve have had 59 beers and are riding a motorized rodeo bull. Nickelback suck. Suuuuuuuuck. (Like a mosquito on Jesus’ jugular).
I mean sure they had that one song about the chick reminding him of how boring he really is (I might have the lyrics not 100% here), but other than that – crapola.
50 cents:
Although it’s a good point, the dude who had “50 CENTS” printed in brightly coloured vinyl and stuck on the side of his taxi is a numbnut. What is he trying to say? “All fares 50 cents only”? That’s not a very good way to make a buck. Is he making a statement against the taxi scrapping program by saying that his taxi is only worth 50 cents? Seems a bit vague but - Oh wait! Maybe he means the gangster rapper 50 cent! That must be it! 50 cent – I get it now! Jeez. What a frikken idiot!
Back to my original point: Why is 50 cent not called 50 cents? Legend tells that a life in South Central Compton is only worth 50 cents, so he decided to call himself 50 cent. (?) I think his name’s Marlon or something – hold on… OK: Curtis. Thanks Wikipedia. The dude’s name is Curtis. OK. Anyhow, so, what? “A life in South Jamaica is only worth 50 cent”? No. 50 cent-s. How much is that porn mag? 50 cents. How much for a ride on the rollercoaster? 50 cents. How much is a life in South North New Jersey? 50 cents. s.
OK. Now that I’ve got all that off my chest (pushes arms from chest in a zen meditation movement to relax & clear thoughts) here’s a poem. Actually it’s not a poem, it’s the blues:
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I know I’m gonna wake up
tomorrow morning
just as the day is
dawnin
I know I’m gonna wake up
tomorrow morning
my love is
coming home
I’m gonna wait for her at the station
while the morning mists are clearin
gonna get me a cup of coffee - read the newspaper
waiting for my love
I’m gonna wait for her at the bus-stop
over lunchtime, downtown
grab a sandwich - watch the people
waiting for my love
I’m gonna wait for her at the airport
in the early hours of evening
not sure what I’m gonna be doin – but I’m gonna be doin it
I’m waiting for my love
Cause I know I’m gonna wake up
tomorrow morning
to find my love
has come back home
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I love my salary,
Tom
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