Dantastic Ideas!
The ideas, songs, stories, conversations and poems thought up by yours truly...
Sunday, 4 June 2023
Brain Donors
Monday, 26 September 2022
A Massive Undertaking
Death. It can’t be avoided. Everyone’s done it. Einstein, Elvis, that guy that cut you off today on the highway, he’s a goner too (ok not today but who knows? Maybe he drove off a cliff) even that guy that’s looking at you right now, What’s his name? Steve? Duane? No Matter. They’re only one high energy drink and prescription Tylenol away from kicking the bucket. So, we might as well prepare for it no? Still a weird concept. I dunno. There’s still plenty more for me to see or do before I go. If I don’t die by someone’s hand (legal or immoral) then I’m pretty sure its by my own curiosity or terrible dumb luck. Like those rabbits that lived under our chicken coop that have now disappeared. Me. Compared to a rabbit. Not a Rabbi, that would be crazy! It would take on a massive undertaking, not undertaker, I can’t be my own undertaker, can I? If I dug my own hole, took some pills and rolled myself in does that count? Or does that make me a holy roller? Sounds legit. Let’s go with that. Anyways, What I’m trying to say is if I were to die tomorrow, there would be three things I would want:
#1 Would be “Bro Hymn” by Pennywise to be played
at the funeral (Not bro hymn tribute, yes there is a difference lol)
#2 Strippers and a Bouncy castle. Because? Fuck
it - The funeral is not for me anyways and who can be sad when you have strippers
and a bouncy castle? That’s right. No one.
#3 On my tombstone, I want it to say: Avenge
Me! and my birthdate–? so “Jan.11.1980-?” and nothing else.
That way
It will be this huge mystery
If anyone who sees my grave
They will have nothing but questions
What happened to him?
Who wronged him?
No picture?
Where's the end date? Has he Risen?
Was it Jesus?
Was Jesus here and we missed it?!
Who was this man?
What can we do?
They start by searching Google
Find Nothing
Throw the question out onto reddit
Gets 10k upvotes
Starts a Subreddit
Creates a cult following
Band of kids get together
Like a Scooby Doo investigation
Start trending on Twitter
They catch the local ghost that was terrorizing the old train station
It was old man Mcginty and he would have gotten away with it
If it weren't for those pesky kids
But knows nothing about my grave.
People pour in from around the world
To come say their vigils
Their pilgrimage blocks the traffic for
miles
But it brings in millions of dollars to the
community
A GoFundMe page gets created for those “that
had no voice”
Prime minister catches wind
From all the public publicity
Names a holiday after me
I become a local Canadian hero
Teenagers celebrate by getting drunk/high
and having sex on my grave
Doesn’t sound like a bad idea now does it?!
Wednesday, 11 May 2022
Coke Addict
My response to addicts trying to quit:
The real addiction here is Coke. I love it. You love it. Your aunt Carole loves it. Who knew battery acid could taste so good?! I didn't! I can even use it to clean my tools! It's amazeballs! Have you tried it? It's like 10 herculean men picking you up, then body slamming your senses. And it used to contain real cocaine! How is this shit not flying off the shelves? Drink it. Love it. Accept your failed attempts to kick anything because this shit kicks back! In the junk! It's like a god-damned midget punching you in the groin telling you to get up! There's a world out there. No need to cry. Are you crying? Grab a Coke and feel the gut punch of yesterday today. It's Thursday for fuck's sake. Your late for work! Grab a coke and run your ass to work - Because this can has more calories than that McDonald's breakfast that you had to have two of. It's like a rocket in your pants! You can travel time! Fucking Time Travel! And still selling around 40 cents a can! That's cheaper than a stalk of celery. And who eats celery?! That's right no one. So open up a can time traveler and enjoy a Coke. *Not paid or endorsed by Coke and if I was I'd fucking rule time! Like riding dinosaurs and shit! Doesn't that sound Awesome? Because it. IS. Coke. Drink it.*
Holy Roller
It’s a funny thing sometimes how we wind up in the job or careers that we end up doing. Some people were born with a knowledge of what they want to do for a living - Like it was a gift from God himself who hath so provideth them this knowledge, A divine right. And for that, I have always envied those people as I have not (still not) or have ever been truly sure of what I was meant to do with this time occupied on Earth. I for one got into the trades because I was smart enough to realize that I needed something to build towards (even if I was unsure what that was) but still allowed me to enjoy my hobbies at the time of drinking till dawn with friends and chasing women. Some look to their parents for advice and end up following in their footsteps. I tried that. Getting kicked out of university ended my chances of doing what my father wanted me to as it interfered with my two favorite hobbies. Twenty years pass and three tickets later I have concluded: If I had the chance to do it all again, I would have been a lawyer…or a gynecologist. But one thing I knew for sure, was that I would not, could not, be what my mom wanted me to be: A priest. Yet I couldn’t help myself from wondering, what would it have been like had I did? I think it would probably go something like this:
First, I would like to start off by saying that I’d be
terrible. Just the worst.
Probably the worst priest on Earth for vey different
reasons.
All the Kids would be safe.
But not their moms…
Or grieving widows…
Tell the best priest jokes
Use terrible church puns
Cursing while giving sermons
Due to drinking all the holy wine
Getting drunk on holy wine
Running out of wine
Then turning water into wine
Start selling it on the side
Labeling it “Gifts from God”
Giving each bottle my blessing
Make a side profit
Pocket said side profit
Call it a “church donation”
Get idea to steal church donations
Confess my sins
To myself
Do it again
Make more profit
Decide to do confessions
Blackmail people from confession
Receive more “donations”
Ignore taxes because of church loophole
Spend said donations on hookers and blow
Confess my sins again
Relieve myself…
In the baptismal font
Decide to legalize cocaine through the church through
another loophole
Become a priest kingpin
Setup community drug dealers
Call them my “disciples”
Get prostitution accepted among the masses
Confessionals now used for double duties
More donations
Launder money through church bingos and bake sales
Bribe high ranking officials, police, and politicians
Groom an army of followers
Break away from Catholicism
Create my own religion
Build church brothels in every city on Earth
Bring back polygamy and Prima Nocta
Achieve God like status
Take up smoking because…fuck it
Buy really big pointy hats
LOL
Looking at it all now I couldn’t become a priest,
the path in front of me is just too big 😉
Tuesday, 17 August 2021
The Humboldt Hit
Cutting through the sleet of darkness - The roar made from 500 cubic inches
snarling beneath the hood of his '75 Cadillac Coupe deVille -
(I say his as in I may have acquired/borrowed) - Exhaust tips resonating
my throttle input down alleyways and bouncing off urban brickwork - Quad halogens
cast shadows upon the freshly plowed snowbanks
at 30 miles per hour,
Dimly guiding me through the streets
in the upper west side -The worn
and now frozen wiper blades passably
keep the snow from penetrating the windshield -
This Sunday morning 3AM blizzard having already arrived - Promptly erasing my path
as fast as the Bridgestone’s can carve it:
A perfect storm....
For the perfect
crime.
Sinatra's "Fly me to the
Moon" starts playing over the 6x9 speakers - I crank up
the dial on this shit radio and
proceed to stretch my palms at 10 and 2
and clasp the wheel again a few times
- Relieving the arthritis in my battle-scarred knuckles
now covered in the bloodstains (of the owner of said vehicle) Along with
my white collared shirt and pinstripe tie - By orders passed down from powers above -
The stench of dried blood mixed with tobacco smoke embedded in plaid upholstery
forces me to roll down the windows -
- Again -
Letting in the cold chill of November air...Punishing an already tired defrost heater -
Not sure what's louder:
A.
The fan struggling to keep up to the
climate controls - Or -
B.
The hum of the right passenger wheel
bearing competing with The Sultan of Swoon.
A right turn at the Humboldt Lagoons
State Park sign leads the Caddy
en route towards the boat launch (So
befitting for a land yacht such as this)
The weathered brakes squeal to a halt
- Sliding/ploughing on all 4's...
Before stopping 2 and a half tons at
the edge of the downslope -
Opening the cold four-foot chunk of
American steel and glass
forces the hinges to screech
loudly...Followed by a sudden thud upon closing -
Chicago's frigid winds cuts though my
clothes like the butterfly knife that cut he,
(who is not to be named or talked
about) and is currently residing in said vehicles trunk,
Was given an Italian necktie as a
going away gift for talking/knowing too much -
With a wooden cane propped against
the accelerator pedal and front bench seat -
Manually shifting the three on the tree to the letter D - Pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds
from my breast pocket before Igniting one with the stolen dash lighter
now kept as a memento - I witness the
chrome icebreaker descend within the hole it's made
only for Jack Frost to cover my sins
till spring yet again
- Still -
As the crimson lights disappear into
the lagoons abyss,
I couldn't help but ponder:
"Man Ol' Blue Eyes really could
sing....
He really could
sing."