Right then. If my maths is correct, that’s two blogs done and this is the third. In the first two musings, I told you about how to save money by using your thin underwear as a toilet at the train station as well as notifying you of the tricks Apple are missing out on, so I think I should tell you more about me. I’d let you talk as I am very good at that thing people call ‘listening’, but it wouldn’t be the most invigorating blog if I just left a chunk of blank space and let you talk whilst staring into the abyss inside your computer screen; a vacant page where my ramblings could have been sprawled across the page. So just to enlighten you with some details; I am a human, just to dispel any notion that it is in fact any old creature typing on this keyboard (most of them haven’t got the dexterity. And quite frankly, they’re a bit stupid).
I am from Oldham and I am indeed a man. Again, I’ve narrowed it down even further from the ‘human’ stage and if I have ever displayed a hint of femininity, it should not be confusing to the point where my gender is questioned. I assure you, I naturally have the tools necessary to shoot forth my progeny. I’ve also given you a couple of stories on this page involving a bus journey and computer blocking pornographic content, so you might know the sorts of dull events that seem to plague my existence as I search for something more fulfilling. Those moments of incredible gravitas, tender and fragile, yet euphoric and beautiful all at the same time, as if all other life has come to a complete halt; our entire beings engaged with the events that begin to unfold into a rare and intense life-changing occurrence.
But seeing as those moments don’t come, fuck ‘em.
Don't wait for the moment, create it. This is why 'rebellion' is the topic today. I grew up with very high expectations of life. One of the main reasons for that twisted logic was good nosh. I was surrounded by some of the greatest cuisine known to man and beast. For example, if a random dog had tasted the glorious food I had sampled as a little 'un, it would have developed a ridiculously complex palette after devouring mum's food, thus becoming a 'spoilt mutt'. Good thing I ate a lot as a child and made sure there was no food left for anyone or anything else. I'm sure there's a picture of me when I was around four years old, in a knitted jumper with crazy patterns, eating a samosa. And if more photos had been taken of me eating that veggie-filled delight, you would have probably seen the triangular treat in my throat, very much like Scooby Doo's gullet when he eats a massive sandwich, as I had developed the nasty habit of wolfing my food down as a youth without using the dentition attached to my gums. Life really doesn't get better than that, and I learned the hard way (by growing up). After becoming fixated with pakoras and curry for a few years, I was the chubby kid at school, but back then, chubby meant 'hard'. I was quite a tough kid, accompanied with an 'I'm gonna fuck you up' attitude, and as much of the kids didn't go to the gym or do bodybuilding, my physique reigned supreme over their skinny arms; the rolls of lard acting as armour fit for a Roman warrior. I practiced moves from video games on other pupils for fun. I remember vividly doing a 'power punch' (inspired by Paul Phoenix from 'Tekken') on this kid, which is a normal punch accompanied by a loud grunt. Naturally, he did the right thing and ran to tell the teacher, all teary-eyed. And I think I may have hit him for tattling too. In layman's terms, I was a little bastard. One of my teachers caught wind of my reputation and decided to confront me. Don't worry, he didn't invite to a bare-knucle brawl (the first rule here would definitely be: 'Do not talk about Fight Club... because I'll get done for child abuse'). He instead made a fool out of me in front of the whole class via the medium of name-calling, and he followed on by pushing me into a table. Now, had I known it was against the law for him to do that, I'd have called the cops and got a subpoena to him before class had ended, but sadly, the legal system and all its intricacies had passed me by at the age of six. So what did I do? I did what Superman would have done. I grabbed the nearest chair and launched it with all my might. I remember thinking 'I'll teach him' and giggling coyly in my head, because I had made a joke about teaching a teacher. Clenched teeth and all, the chair flew out of my sweaty grip and I seem to remember it making contact with his leg. He decided to calm down after this (I probably would have done a 'Hadouken' if he provoked me any further).
Soon, I had become popular (it's amazing what throwing stuff at teachers can do) and developed the attributes needed for social interaction. I became the joker and also maintained good ties with the other hard kids, but my relationship with them is how I imagine it to be with the old mafia gangs in that we got along, but we really wanted to kick each other's arses. I think rebellion can be positive if it is to overthrow a controlling force, and to establish ties with other like-minded individuals to do things that are efficacious in stopping the tyrannies that exist in the world. The struggle for the illustrious prize of liberty occurs in all walks of life. So I wondered: have you ever performed any act of disobedience in your life that has resulted in something good? If you haven't, it's worth thinking about. Maybe you could do a standard protest, or do something symbolic, like an Aztec ritual of perching an eagle on a cactus with a snake in it's beak outside of 10 Downing Street, to signal that a new civilisation needs to be built immediately outside Cameron's fort. Please make sure it's symbolic, and that it doesn't go against any human or animal rights (it's best not to do the Aztec ritual actually, it's somewhat dated and bad for the animals involved. Eagles with acupunctured feet? A definite no-no). But just something cool like that.
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