The countries of this planet called Earth are on the lookout for budding politicians. The candidate must have the ambition to serve as back-bencher, government minister, member of the opposition, leader of the opposition, and even prime minister, president, pathetic senator (government, opposition and even independent) or any other useless, loathsome life form.
Suitable candidates must be able to lie, steal, hate, have no conscience, suffer from delusions of grandeur, think the world revolves around him or her, live for power, be unable to show or act with kindness, incite hate in their supporters for non-supporters, and must be functionally illiterate despite the level of education achieved by the prospective candidate. The ideal candidate must be able to not only hate non-supporters, but also victimize them at every opportunity. Naturally looks are not critical but the look of arrogance and cluelessness will go a long way in achieving success in this much sort after field by the brain-dead and facially challenged. Having the personality of a low-class sewer rat would also be a great asset.
If you are incompetent at everything you ever do and believe hate and arrogance is the answer, then this job is for you.
The more people become “religious” the more likely they are to hate. For many people, religion is the kick they need to boost their self-esteem and rise above the rest of a pathetic World according to them. These “religious” people are quite frightening in their baseless hate for particular groups and religions in society. I am not knocking religion and it’s purpose but I am knocking those who see themselves as superior begins based not on their ability to show universal compassion, but on their ability to show very selective compassion, if any. Tell me who you hate and I will tell you who you are.
Mini: Is this aka?
aka: Yes, this is the aka speaking.
Mini: aka, this is Mini, Mini Skirt.
aka: Well hello Mini, Mini skirt, long time no speak.
Mini: It has been a while.
aka: So what’s up Short Hem?
Mini: I just got my new cell phone and decided to test it and couldn’t think of a better guinea pig than you.
aka: If I didn’t know better I would say you were meaning to offend.
Mini: aka, no one could ever offend you.
aka: Glad you remembered.
Mini: How could I forget, I nearly had a nervous breakdown trying to offend you.
aka: Short skirts are never offensive unless accompanied by unshaven legs.
Mini: Sheesh!!! I should have known better!
aka: Is there another reason for this conversation besides you suffering form cellularitis?
Mini: You haven’t changed one bit; you are still the same obnoxious aka.
aka: Thanks, so as I was saying, what else is the reason for you using up your minutes with my time?
Mini: Well aka, I was reading your blogs recently and I have to admit I wasn’t impressed.
aka: I am not impressed with your reading ability either but there are classes which you can take. Even you can benefit.
Mini: Get-a-life aka, I mean I wasn’t impressed with what you were writing. It just so-so.
aka: It’s just so-so not It just so-so. You really need more remedial classes.
Mini: Pardon my French, but you are avoiding the issue.
aka: You are barely surviving the English and now you want to take on the French…… If we were having this conversation face to hem line I would not be avoiding The Issue.
Mini: Aka, is your mind straying into the gutter again? You seem incapable of having a sensible conversation. Just tell me what has caused your recent spate of poor blogging?
aka: You seem to strive with my mind in your gutter but since you asked I will reply. I cannot say exactly why the poor blogging because I don’t know exactly why. What most people fail to realize is that we all make blogging choices and we have to live with those choices for the rest of our lives. It could be a case of blog pressure. The way I see it is when we are dead and hopefully gone, what we would have left behind are our deeds and our blogs. If they were any good then they will bear fruit, if not then obviously more fertilizer was needed.
Mini: If I understand you correctly, you mean you are all out of fertilizer.
aka: To put it in simple layman terms, yes, but this conversation seems to be inspiring more fertilizer than you could ever imagine.
Mini: You always seem so full of it, who would have thought.
aka: Don’t write me off yet my dear short-skirt, I am still very fertile.
Mini: Oh, I get it, fertilizer comes from the word fertile.
aka: Yes, one can say it’s the root word.
I did a check to see if there were people as strange as I am out there in the nearly once civilized world. I wanted to register a strange name website and came up with the fact that there are people out there who are no only as strange as me, but strange before me.
These are all registered domains. They may not be operating web sites but they certainly are owned by strangers:
Things with simple names can floor us such as the common cold, cars, and girlfriend(s)…. and even car(s) with girlfriend(s). I was floored at least once by two of these items but not on consecutive days. However, they can all take a toll on us, both on impact and during our hospital stay. Turning off the oxygen can also be a real killer.
I am currently recovering from the common cold and was once again deeply bothered by the name and a certain pharmacist. Who in their right mind would call a common cold a common cold, certainly not someone moaning under the influence of overheating and a bloody red, tissue-from-a-tissue-box wiped nose? Could this be Rudolph’s secret that Santa and the CIA trained elves don’t want us to know?
Rudolph, with your nose so bright would you kindly use a Kleenex tonight but keep it quiet.
The one thing that is not documented in recent medical journals of questionable integrity and readership is that the mind behaves even stranger while suffering from a bout of the common cold. I don’t know if you spotted it, but mind behaves is an oxymoron. As for me, I am simply a moron deprived of oxygen. Exactly how strange the mind behaves depends how strange the mind was behaving when the common cold struck. It simply builds on that level of strangeness and peaks when the do-gooders offer you chicken soup for the umpteenth time.
Thanks for asking and I want to let the general bloging public, and other shady characters know that I am well on the road to recovery. I also want to thank the countless bottles of pills, who never hesitated to give up a bit of themselves so that my time spent under the influence was a bit bearable. Pain killer, decongestant, you know who you are even though you are generic. At last, but not in the least, I want to thank my mind for taking insanity to a higher level.
Thank you. Thank you all.