Neal’s Belch no.193 from 2005
I’ve always been a great believer in the dictum “Quad Eriles Dectaforum”, which of course means “Que Cera Cera”, which translates as “When shit hits the fan, it’s always a good idea to attempt to switch off the electricity at the mains, using nothing but the power of your mind.
However, it is an even better idea to just hit the “off” switch with your finger”. I think Roger Moore said it best, when he said “A pound of sausages and a bottle of low fat milk please. Lovely weather isn’t it? Yeah they’re all back at school. Poor bastards. Never mind, they’ll have a week off at Halloween”.
That said, I’ve always thought that there is no harm in trying to live outside of the ordinary. Where would we be had some adventurous person not ventured to rub two sticks together to see if they would make a good musical instrument. Immediately of course the sticks started to burn, and fire was discovered.
Sadly the cavemen who first discovered it decided it didn’t have a high enough pitch. In fact the fire was so quiet that he couldn’t hear it at all. He just made up the thing about pitch, to make it sound like he knew what he was talking about.
Where would we be, for that matter, had Jesus not stuck with his chosen career of carpentry? There would be no sightings of his mother’s face in blocks of wood and polished floors, and our spiritual life would be the less for it. Jesus, quoted in his biography said that he did things “the Elvis way”. He loved his mommy, and at the age of seventeen he made his first record for her as a birthday present. Sadly gramophones had not been invented yet and Mary mistook the gift for a flat circular fish plate.
The next two months of Jesus’ life were a misery. Every five minutes he was being asked to “magic up” a few more loaves and fishes, so that his mom and her husband Joseph could show off their strange new plateware.
I’ve never been a big fan of fish. The problem is it looks, smells and tastes too much like fish. If that could be changed somehow, I’m sure that I would love it.
I also find it strange that cats like fish. What on earth do they say to their cousins, the catfish, when they see them eating creatures of the sea? Maybe they just don’t talk to their non oxygen-breathing relatives, or perhaps catfish are not considered to be “cats”, because of some sort of snobbish or arbitrary decision make by whoever is responsible for naming things.
While I’m on the subject, why do so many Americans insist on naming their children “Jon” (see for example, Garfield), when apparently that word is also common slang, in the U.S., for lavatory?
I have other questions too, but you are not qualified to answer them, so there is not point writing them here. There are others who can satisfy my lust for knowledge, and no doubt I will meet them tonight when, as is my habit, I visit the local coin laundry to mingle with the good people who frequent it.
I don’t have any clothes that need to be washed, but if anyone asks I’ll say I’ve come to purchase my dinner from the vending machine within. I don’t want them to know the real purpose of my visit, which is to cleanse the dolphin-juices from my serviettes and tableware. Sadly it is politically incorrect to eat dolphin meat these days. Those of us who have developed a taste for it are considered unkind or cruel. Well, I’m not cruel. I can honestly say, with my hand on my heart, that I have never killed or even raised a fist to a dolphin, not even in the heat of anger.
Not that they don’t deserve it.
Dolphins are among the most environmentally unfriendly creatures on this earth. For one thing, they eat tuna, which as we all know is in very short supply. I tried to get a can of tuna for my lunch yesterday, and the shop had run out because one of these dolphins had been in there shopping a couple of hours previous. For another, they’ve got whiskers. I do not trust any non cat-related creature that has whiskers.
That’s just silly.