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*Meh* I'm sitting here attempting to write something completely
and utterly witty--something that will make you fall out of your chair with laughter--but I can't come up with anything (amazingly!),
so I'm just going to go on for a self-glorified ramble, and if you want to come along for the ride, just keep up. Okay, so
today's Wednesday. Nothing particularly special about Wednesday--it comes before Thursday, and after Tuesday, and it starts
with a "W" which is totally and utterly unique because it's the only day of the week to do that (omg, did you know *that*?).
Actually, I'm sure that something special somewhere happened on a Wednesday (possibly involving waffle cones, or goats, or
something totally bizarre like a Bolivian tapdancing flying fish becomes President--don't ask), but nothing's happened much
today. Well, I guess I could talk about how the sun rose, and how the clouds sprang into the sky, and how the birds sang,
but who, blatantly, gives a shit? Birds sing all the time. Uusally when you want them to shut up. I mean, goddamnit, is there
a moment in their existence when they *don't* sing? They just never shut up! See, that's the really irritating thing with
birds: humans communicate by talking (failing that, hitting each other repeatedly with large wooden posts), whilst birds *sing*...even
when they don't want to! And the sky...? Wow, it's blue. Big deal. It's blue all the fucking time. Wouldn't it be great if
you woke of a morning and you looked out of the window, and oh-my-motherfucking-lord, it's purple with orange pokerdots. I
mean, that'd be something, wouldn't it? Even if it meant toxic chemicals had to spray into the ozone. It'd be something to
look forward to (just before your skin melted off your bones, and you looked like a leper doing an impression of a bowl of
jelly). But that'd be really kickass, don't you think? And what about the clouds? They're always white. Can't God do something
better? I mean, really, it's not too original. All he has to do is spooge all over the sky, and whoopsiedoo it's cloud time.
It's amazing how a candy company can come up with something like a multicoloured packet of Skittles, and all God can do is
pull some white bits of underpants lint from the big cosmic drawer of leftovers. We should get a choice. Colour-code our own
clouds. Like liquorice all-sorts. That'd rock. It'd kill two birds with one stone too: because we wouldn't need to get drugged
anymore, either. We could just sit on a hill, and watch the clouds change colour. It'd be like wearing different coloured
contacts whilst rubbing your face in cocaine. It'd be terribly amusing, like having a rainbow inside your skull. Wheeee! We'd
have our own spectrum, at our beck and call. And the sun? A little blazing ball of fire? Come on! Let's come up with something
better, right? Like a marshmallow that hovers in the air, and can illuminate itself...To end the day, it'd melt all over everything,
and people would roast in superhot, molten sucrose. It'd beat a trip to Willy Wonka factory. Oh, and that kind of brings me
to the question: is the moon really made of cheese? Let's thing about that one for a moment. Yes, I'm sure when God was considering
making a large lunar rock, he decided upon Cheddar because it's so much more realistic as compared to Coon. Pfft. What is
this all about? And the legend that there's a man living on the moon? Who's going to be living on a rock made of cheese? I
mean, who wants to wake up and smell that every single day? "Mmm," he'd say, "let's get myself some goat cheese. The blue-vein's
a little runny today." Perhaps it's made of assorted cheeses. And the grass...oh yes...the grass could be string cheese! How
cool is that? And when the astronauts launched into space it was "One small Gooda for a man, one giant Blamange for mankind."
And maybe they're are aliens living on that planet. And they're sexually aroused by the cheese...hence Swiss!!! But if we're
living in a universe where we go to bed when a large chunk of cheese replaces a melting marshmallow, then let me tell you,
I think we really need to have those drugs. Okay, my friend has just told me to go on about the wind; it's just blown through.
Hey, what did the palm tree say to the wind? "Thanks for the blowjob"-- I know, it's crap. But so is wind, so that's alright
then. I mean, it's flatulence without the stench isn't it? Some overweight German is probably suspended from a cage on the
moon, being fed constant cheese, and is farting his ring out just for us. Don't you feel spesh? I mean, I sure as hell would
want some foreign pig to air condition my country, as opposed to some sexually aroused alien, or a goat (damn those goats!)
That's probably what initiated WWII, too. Over the cheese. Oh yes, of course. The Jews just wouldn't give in--they wanted
as much dairy products as they could possibly get their filthy hands on. It was like that ordeal with the Colonel's Secret
Herbs and Spices: Hitler was a competitive cheesemaker who wanted the recipe, so he decided to invade Poland. Make sense to
me. He was malnourished. Just look at his moustache. Dead aardvark penis. He needed his cheese. So he rallied as many people
together as he could, and he attacked. Of course, it's obviously included a larger spectrum than more cheese. Probably reindeer
yogurt, too, but I won't get into that right now. Anyhoo, that's how all wars start. Religion...or cheese. The jihad? Cheese
was off. Attack the suppliers. Suicidal Afghani bastards kamikaze'd USA for a couple of boxes of Limberger. They have Macdonalds
too, you know. Give them a chance. They needed to cook fastfood, as well. It's kosher. George Bush didn't want to give them
the cheese. He's a greedy cheesemonger. That's right! Supposedly the greatest country on Earth, and it's controlled by a greedy
cheesemonger! Let that be a lesson to you! Start off as a little baby boy, end up with power of the Western world, fixated
on cheese. Here endeth this ramble. Let's start another one. Okay. Back to the birds. Animals, right? Are they really less
intelligent than us? I mean, here's a guy who's sitting at a computer monitor, rambling about cheese. Fuck, they must be much
more clever. If you were a chimp, and had an opposable thumbs, would you sit at a computer and talk about wars over dairy
products? I don't think so. You'd find a cure for cancer (waffle cones!...but don't tell anyone). So what's the most intelligent
animal on Earth, then? Not dolphins: they're evil. A species that spends its entire time grinning is up to something. What
about the sloth? A sloth is intelligent. It spends all day sitting in a tree, eating leaves, and scratching itself. A sloth
has such a slow metabolism that it should be extinct by now: when it mounts another sloth, it's so tired it falls off immediately.
I mean, that's clearly the cleverer species. A sloth should be given a Nobel Prize. I'm going to go bohemian today: sit in
a tree, and make love to a pinecone. That seems the most intelligent option. And when RSPCA asks me to stop molestering that
pinecone, I can tell them to fuck off, just for the sloths. And then there are the yaks. Chinamen are obsessed with yaks.
"Yakkidy-yack-yack" is all you ever hear from the buggers. There's something there about the yaks. Perhaps USA is not run
by a greasy cheesemonger, but actually a goat. Afghanistan could be run by a hairy yak. It'd improve politics a hell of a
deal. There's be Abolition Laws on work, and the only fighting would be over who got the bigger paddock, or which daisies
tasted better. If you were to vote, how much cooler would it be to enter the ballot box by stating "Vote #1 for the Big Flatulent
Hairy Yak-Headed Fuckwit", especially when you would always want to do this is normal politics anyway. And George "Dubya"
Bush being a goat? Well, "bush"..."goat"... It's not too hard to guess. Talking about incon-fucking-spicuous. Which leads
me to rambling on about Aussies (I dunno how, but it does). Aussies. The only people in history who when amputated, dismembered,
decapitated, mauled, viciously molested, fatally wounded, or generally beaten up say "she'll be right, no worries". I mean,
wtf? A Yank would reply with a "Gimme that motherfuckin' tire-iron, bitch", but not an Aussie. The Aussies are too stoned
in watching fluorescent rainbows and moons made of cheese to care. Their wits have been slowed down by the giant marshmallows,
and of course, they're collectively probably a bit worried by the magnitude of John Howard's eyebrows. Talking of which, how
many goats do you think live in them? Someone should go and take a concensus. "Sorry PM Howard, sir, but we need to do a count
on the amount of hoofed mammals that are in your eyebrows, if you wouldn't mind." No, of course he won't mind, not with the
giant flaming marshmallow melting over everyone. "No worries. She'll be right." Pfft. What a load of bollocks! Bollocks: what
a strange word. Devised by the Poms to mean "who gives a stuff". They obviously do: they made an intriguing word to describe
it, didn't they? Irony, yes? To the Poms, irony is merely a word meaning "quite a bit like iron." No wonder the Commonwealth
is failing. We need more yaks, I tell ya! The more obese Hindu ungulates, the better! What a novel idea: go over to the President's
place for dinner, and milk him for a cup of rancid milk while you're at it. He'd certainly be the first President to actually
have multi-uses. Are you all bored yet? I don't particularly care. This from a guy murmuring onwardly about yaks. I wonder
if yaks have their own ambassadors. Like fashion yaks; yaks that put on G-strings and fishnet stockings and go and prance
around the catwalk with their six multiple purple nipples standing erect for all the world to see. "Woah! Look at the jugs
on that one!" Man, no wonder why there are so many Sherphas, paedophiles. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Paedophilia's
not common these days, what with the current cheese craze, and everything. But what do the sloths, and the goats, and yaks
benefit from all this? The fact that if any of you people print this ridiculous set of ramblings, that some of their food,
or their shelter, will be reduced to milled paper and be graffiti'd with pure rubbish. I dunno. No-one's ever actually had
the cojones to approach a yak and ask for his opinion. Er, well, that's not entirely true. A lot of intrepid journalists have,
but the thing is...is that they've never returned to tell the story. Woah, that was strange. Just saw a yak walking passed
with a tape recorder. Why is that strange, you ask? He usually carries a camcorder, is why. Bad joke? Yes, well, you're the
one reading it. Not me. I'm just repeatedly hitting my fingers at the keys to see what random drivelling can be seen to form
itself on the monitor. Remind you of monkeys typing "Hamlet"? Yes siree. If you've finished reading this...
Hell has
definitely frozen over.
Written By
The Kirkus and aided by Cursed to eat Adorable Kittnes
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