Making a Column of a Selfie Stick

I welcome the new year in traditional manner — strolling over Westminster Bridge idly revising my thesaurus — when what should obtrude on my peregrinations but silly people snapping selfies. I’ll never understand these self-referential souls, no matter how long I write my every thought in weekly national columns. As they arranged themselves in spokes of sight lines centered on Big Ben, at every compass point but pointing only at themselves, Narcissi no longer prisoners of the poolside. But the sight of their shoulders against our iconic clock only told me it was time to tell them that they were wrong.

Who could possibly provide a new view of Big Ben? Well, me, just now, obviously. Maybe one or two of the more important Lords working next door. I suppose the Queen must be allowed to contribute if she wants. But everyone else is wrong. But these people, who’ve travelled thousands of miles at great expense to see one of the most famous buildings in the world, who want to remember this moment and share it with friends and family, why would they want a picture of themselves with it? Surely they understand it has been photographed before.

Perhaps if one of the anonymous hordes — they may have photographic proof they’re not faceless, but they don’t register as real people to me — was teleported to parts even further afield than their homeland, then their photographs might prove useful to humanity. Should they appear around Alpha Centauri, then I might allow them a snap, as long as they promised to capture some interesting new rocks as well as the inevitable obstacle of their own existence. In the meantime they should sit quietly in other countries. They may mail-order postcards of anything English they wish to see.

Worse is the idiotic implement employed to assist their exterior introspection. What I must eponymously call the “selfie stick”, the staff of self-referential. Who do these people think they are, using tools to achieve desires? Some kind of human being?

The selfie stick is surely our most idiotic invention. They should just invent an ultrarefractive new material which is cheap and easy to produce. Change the wavelength of visible light to better suit the scale of the human arm. Fold spacetime like a couple of meters of used tablecloth until they get the zoom right. Something sensible, rather than a stupid idea like “the first and most useful tool ever invented”. Ugh. Idiots.

Who could be so narcissistic as to think the least moment in their lives is worth such analysis and attention? Maybe some of the millions of readers of my nationally printed thought pieces might understand, but I most definitely don’t.


The Bestest Short Sci-Fi Ever

The children were playing in the field, innocently, when Jake called out “Look what I found!”
“It’s a sword!” exclaimed Ben.
“It’s not just a sword, it’s Excalibur!” clarified John.
“YOU ARE CORRECT!” proclaimed the sword. “But all your legends are actually stories of extreme high technology, like me, an artificial intelligence designed only to provide exposition, but never to take action or replace a character!”
“Wow!” wowed Jake. “You mean I could be like King Arthur?”
“No” exposited the sword. “Thou must now travel back to BE King Arthur! My super-advanced systems are needed to defeat the uprising of sexy zombies.”
“Awesome!” grinned Ben.
“Wait!” cried the girl, “Can’t you see the power is corrupting you absolutely?”
Ben sighed. The girl was right.
“Excalibur,” he sighed, heart heavy, “Self-destruct.”
The sword disappeared, along with the field, and the girl. It was just a dream.

“Excellent, the thinks it was just a dream.” cackled the evil military scientist.
“Thanks for cackling that out loud.” smirked the evil general. He smirked. The weak government the author didn’t support would never stop them now.

“See, even under their evil mind control experiments he will not break,” admired the alien on the spaceship. “He is suitable. We must give him superpowers. And then…”
The alien krizblached forwards, skizzwilding its thematubes.
“… THEN he will get to kiss the girl.”


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Jesus Returns For His Cut Of The Money

This morning the Son of God descended to Earth in all his heavenly glory, shafts of light shining on his countenance, where beads of sweat glittered as he spake “Yeah, yeah, blessings and all that, do you have some of that money you’ve been collecting?” Choirs of angels sang his praises, but didn’t quite cover the sound of thunderous knocking on the clouds above, and shouts of “The Odinbank dost demand its gold!”

The Way and the Light landed in Saint Peter’s square, where Pope Francis insisted that none of the Catholic Church’s hundreds of billions of dollars in yearly income was currently stored in his vestments.

“There are many homes where my father lives”, explained the One True Savior, “And when you don’t flip them in time the interest gets pretty savage. And their debt collector carries a hammer. A hammer! Sweet me but he’s scary.”

“It turns out moneylenders are way harder to deal with when you can’t just violently smash up their stuff” added the Lord of Hosts, rubbing his most holy jaw and limping a little. “Honestly, as an unarmed pacifist I’m not sure how I got away with that the first time”

The Lamb of God whistled as entered St Paul’s basilica. “You guys have done alright for yourselves. No moneylenders in here, they couldn’t afford it. Any tax collectors? They owe me a favor.”

As storm clouds gathered over the Vatican it was explained that despite literally incalculable wealth, the Catholic Church doesn’t actually pay taxes. The King of Kings winced, sucking his teeth and explaining that while he would normally have a problem with that, now was a brilliant time for any rich men or even wealthy camels who wanted to work out entry into the Kingdom of Heaven. Christ the Lamb then winked, rubbing his thumb and fingertips together as lightning boomed above the dome.

At time of publication the Son of God is standing in St Peter’s square offering to turn bottled water into Romanée-Conti Burgundy at five euro a pop, but sales are poor owing to torrential rain.


More divine inspiration:

Heavily-armed Fundamentalist Sect Apprehended In Major European City

Early this morning an anti-terror raid recovered a cache of hundreds of pistols, rifles, and machine-guns, and arrested over a hundred men who had been trained in their use and stationed in the heart of the tourist district of Rome. These men insisted that they did not recognize the laws of Italy, and that they only answered to the will of a man they called “the Holy Father”.

Arresting officers discovered dozens of lethal HK MP7 submachine guns, SIG MKPO submachine guns with folding stocks, and dozens of Glock 9mm pistols, all specifically chosen because they could be hidden under the sect’s bizarre religiously-motivated clothing in crowded tourist areas.

Also recovered were dozens of swords, polearms, and a variety of medieval suits of armor. “Whoever this ‘Swiss Guard’ think they are,” said one investigating officer, “they never threw away a single weapon”.

The group’s fundamentalist beliefs are a direct threat to modern society. They allow no women in their ranks – a fact investigators credit with speeding their discovery, as no legitimate normal organization could maintain such blatant sexism in modern society for any length of time.

The cult’s leader “Holy Father”, aka Jorge Bergoglio, was also arrested in the sting. Despite his repeated insistence that his was a peaceful organization dedicated only to helping the needy, goods worth ten billion dollars were recovered in the group’s vast multi-building hideout. When asked if a legitimate charity organization could acquire this level of wealth, several responding officers started laughing, long and loud, and show no signs of ever stopping.


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Hollywood’s Upcoming All-White Live-Action Remakes

After bleaching Egypt in Exodus, and announcing caucasified live-action versions of Ghost in the Shell and Akira, Hollywood is half a step from releasing an all-white remake of the rainbow. What other projects are in the pipes?

  • Chess. Making all the characters white would make the plot confusing, if the plot hadn’t been simplified to a single male lead (White King) saving the Queen by/while killing a bunch of black pawns. The King and Queen have swapped powers, because Hollywood can’t handle a powerful woman rescuing a distressed male. In 2015. Apparently.
  • Where’s Wally. Searching through a huge number of near-identical figures to find the right one closely mirrors the modern lead casting process. Also provides a solid justification for making sure everyone is the same color.
  • Othello. Why not at this point.
  • La Pieta. This original has the advantage of already being white! Sure, it’s a masterpiece in its original medium, and the conversion to live-action movie would be more pointless, lifeless, and heavy-handed than replacing a porcupine with a bowling ball, but it’ll help Hollywood avoid new ideas for one more movie.
  • The Law of Gravity. Spinning a single equation into a two hour screenplay will require some effort. Announcements so far include a romance subplot, an old friend of the hero who appears to have betrayed him but relents at the last minute, and the inhuman universal constant of gravitation will be played by Benedict Cumberbatch.

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Lovecraftian Horrors Distance Themselves From Lovecraftian Racism

Madness congealed from beyond the reach of reason to hold a press conference yesterday, the squamous ichors of unknowable things incorporating to distance themselves from the racist remarks of Howard Phillips Lovecraft.

“We’re obviously grateful to Howie for all the work he’s done as a publicist, but can no longer ignore his execrable behavior” intoned C’thulhu, shattering microphones and eardrums with his R’lyhian unspeech. “The actions of the miniscule speck that is humanity are usually far beneath our contempt. But sub-dividing that speck based on hatred of race? Absolutely and always worth contempt, from anyone or anything capable of perceiving it.”

“We Old Ones are committed to flaying your minds for their contents, not the color of your skin.”

Nyarlthotep, flesh of nightmare and mocker of sanity, then took the microphone in a pseudopod coiling dark and strange through unknown dimensions to apologise for taking part in such racist work.

“We were young, mere aoens dark and deep beyond the span of counting, and, like, just waking up. We didn’t really know what I was doing. Those are not excuses. Those are the reasons I worked with someone I should have said no to.”

“We exist in the darkened howling of infinities which would flense the thoughts from your mind should you so much as glance upon them, leaving your being a shallow mockery, a petty void howling in resonance of the vastness that destroyed you. That’s what we do. We don’t write jaunty little poems titled ‘On The Creation of the N-word‘.”

“Jesus” added Nyarlthotep. “‘Creation of the N-word‘.”

The assorted horrors then proceeded to consume utterly all present, though those who said “He was a product of his time!” were seen to be consumed first, twice, and repeatedly in a gory affront to causality and hope.

C’thulhu addressed these objections even as they dissolved. “He was only a product of his time in the same way plutonium is a product of nuclear breeder reactors: he was made possible by what surrounded him, but was denser and far more poisonous.”

NOTE: We would like to thank our associates at FAX news for sharing their reportage. The mere sight of Old Ones destroys all intelligence and reason, rendering every other reporter incapable of words or thought, but the FAX reporter was apparently fine, and already submitting a story connecting the Old Ones to playground ebola terrorism before the conference ended.


Enjoy extended eldritchicity with New Problems From Old Ones: Seafood

Now Is The Time To Relaunch ED-209

Fellow executives, my name is Dick Jones, and it gives me great pleasure to relaunch OCP’s flagship law enforcement product. Sure, I know what you’re thinking – “Dick Jones is dead!” – but if there was ever a time law enforcement had to listen to the voices of dead men, well, that’s right now. Because 2015 is the perfect time to relaunch the ED-209.

ed209

In the last thirty years, every flaw in our Enforcement Droid series has become a major plus:

  • ED-209 gives suspects a full twenty seconds warning before shooting them to death.
  • The fact it could easily be outrun by a child means it’s highly unlikely to publicly execute a child, on camera.
  • Complete lack of arms means it’s impossible for the droid to choke an unarmed, outnumbered, already restrained man to death.
  • Incredibly high caliber twin automatic cannons ensure that ED could never, ever pretend that a suspect had somehow shot themselves from inside a locked car with their hands cuffed behind their back.
  • When people run from this murderous public projection of capital enforcement, people will completely understand the reaction, and not think the person running must have done something to deserve it.
  • The only person ED publicly executed without even the thought of facing consequences was a rich white man. Shit, that’s practically progress.

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Bank of Ireland Offers To Pay Nation’s Water Charges

Bank of Ireland today announced that it would like to pay the nation’s water charges. “Fundamental utilities required to maintain society are the whole point of tax, ” started the press release, “So we’re starting to feel sort of bad about taking it all during the bailout. We’d like to give something back. From executives being paid for screwing up, to people people who need to drink water to stay alive.”

“It’s not that we’re not grateful,” said spokesperson Eoin O’Lot at a press conference. “It’s just that, well, you know when you get a gift that’s just too much? And it makes you embarrassed? Well, imagine the government giving you three and a half billion euro as a reward for shitting every bed in the country, and then charging the people with nowhere to sleep for the water to wash the sheets. We managed to push through our shame back when we got the money, but we’d have to be some sort of artificial robot replacement for a lizard person pretending to be a sociopath to keep acting that way now.”

Every computer connected to the internet emitted a slight draught as Apple, Google, Twitter, facebook, Adobe, Microsoft, Starbucks, Yahoo!, General Electric, IBM, Pfizer Inc, and many more multi-billion dollar companies currently using Ireland to dodge the shit out of tax sighed in relief simultaneously. “That was a close one”, an executive was overheard to say, while waiting for the waiter to get back with some proper champagne. “Good thing they decided to extort their own citizens for the most fundamental necessity of life instead.”

Taoiseach Enda Kenny responded to repeated queries of “What the fuck have you been doing with all the tax money all this time if you can’t even keep the taps on?” by shrugging and miming hearing difficulties.


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Total Psychopath Holding On To Red Shells in Eleventh Place

(Source: Nintendo)

(Source: Nintendo)

Police have been alerted to a dangerous individual holding on to three red shells despite being in eleventh place. The lunatic was last seen rounding the baggage claim in Sunshine Airport, and should be considered armed and extremely dangerous.

“The psycho’s just holding them!” according to our source in twelfth place. Who was quick to add that their current position was only due to a blue shell, a star, and a sequence of other drivers who can only be described as “every male offspring Canis Lupus ever produced”.

The demented driver shows no sign of improving their position by firing the red shells, instead seeming content to sit there defending the second worst position possible in the game. Our source further opined that this is the sort of person who would end up stabbing someone over a parking space and clearly needs to be bloody watched.

UPDATE: Police have been dispatched to arrest the driver on reports that they actually fired all three red shells backwards, and are therefore “at least a serial killer”.


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Irish People Protest Foreign Minorities Receiving Money, Apparently Not Joking

Recent weeks have seen Waterford mobs campaigning against minority groups receiving welfare funding. They demand that the small, vulnerable group leave before they cause problems for the larger community, and are apparently completely serious despite part of Ireland in the European Union.

Ireland, which has received tens of billions of euros in funding from the EU in recent decade — funding provided from richer countries with the express intent of raising Irish living conditions to what the rest of the EU views as minimum standards — is now facing problems with gobshites think they have half a leg to stand on when telling anyone else to do anything.

Some of the stupider Irish — and we’re not talking “not that bright”, we’re talking more “accidentally chew through their tongue if forced to attempt a crossword” — believe that fellow Europeans are somehow incapable of earning or keeping money. Possibly unaware that it’s only four years since Ireland had to beg Europe for an emergency 67.5 billion euro bailout for just fucking things up altogether. Probably incapable of counting to four.

Many Romanis have come to Ireland to seek a better life and escaping crushing poverty in their home country. Several Irish people protesting against this could not be reached for comment, as their utter ignorance of their own people’s history of emigration caused them to vanish from the timestream. Making the world a better place.

“We don’t want them round here!” said Paddy O’Ballface, a thirtysomething nobody who has never even heard of the times Irish people were forced to travel across the American continent for back-breaking third-class labor. He has never felt any prejudice. He has never been more than four miles from his home. He is rarely found than four meters from his couch.

The situation was escalated by Sinn Féin councillor John Hearne, who made comments accusing Roma people of theft, violent attacks with swords, and grooming his friends’ children with cocaine, and none of those are jokes for this article, those are all things he really said. You’d really think things like that would lead to arrests instead of a facebook posts. It’s almost like he’s an incendiary prat whose lips are visibly moving as he paws through “Rabble Rousing for Dummies”.

A number of people have agreed with the Sinn Féin councilor, apparently failing to realize what that status really says about them. “We’re not a violent, racist, sectarian mob of thugs!”, they cry. “We’re just attacking people in accordance with the statements of Sinn Féin members. History will surely confirm that only good guys do that.”


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