Giving the fingers

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Ever say something you wish you could take back?
Mine’s easy. It’s: “If you’re going to censor people’s free speech for fear of offending anyone, why not just cut off everyone’s middle finger while you’re at it?”
Five weeks later, and I’m sitting on top of the largest pile of severed middle fingers in history. It’s a bloody, rotting heap of madness, and it’s getting bigger by the pair.
I think it’s some kind of World Record. World’s largest pile of severed human appendages. The guys who confirm those things came by last week.
And lost their middle fingers, too.

Wembley sinking

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Wembley is sinking, and Andrew Ian Dodge wonders if it is in London or not…

We are getting reports that the new Wembley Studium is in fact sinking in situ. Workers at the site have been discussing it avidly, despite protestations from site managers and governments officials. It seems that the new edifice might be rather too heavy for the land on which it is situated. It is so bad that the Conservative Party have called for an inquiry by the N.A.O, There is a mild panic in various circles as this does not bode well for the completion of the stadia and facilities necessary for the 2012 London Olympics. You’d think we’re in NOLA!

Cup

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Andrew Ian Dodge spins a tune while The Holy Gail Of Soccer looms on the horizon…

Obviously with a keen eye on what is important in life…MP Graham Allen has demanded a debate in the House of Commons on cheating in professional soccer here in the UK. He wants to force the Football Association to stop the diving and bad behaviour in footie. Of course, this has nothing to do with the fact that World Cup is coming up and he wants to get a freebie to Germany. Speaking of the World Cup, Growing Old Disgracefully has written a love song around the event. Head over to www.garageband.com/disgracefulmusic to find the track: England, Please Lose It.

Paranoia Sandwich

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Just as the simultaneous invention of the telephone led to a rivalry between Alexander Graham Bell and some Italian dude, apparently “my” sandwich is being claimed as the development of a shopkeeper in Kazakhstan.
Thieving foreign scum…
Hey, what would you rather eat: a Laurence Simon or an Abu Salam Abdul Khouri Al-Mohammed Jafari?
What’s in it? What’s in my sandwich? Well, there’s… wait a minute. I know what you’re trying to do…
You’re trying to steal my sandwich!
I know who you are… you’re an agent of Jafari. Well, I’m no fool. I won’t tell you a damned thing!

The Kid Talked

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I couldn’t believe my ears! The kid talked! The kid opened his mouth, and instead of sucking on something or barfing, he talked!
The baby is only three or four months old, and he’s reciting Shakespeare.
No, really. Shakespeare. William Shakespeare.
Can’t use the toilet. Can’t walk. Can’t even crawl.
And sure enough, he’s into the third act of Julius Caesar.
I hate Julius Caesar. Give me a copy of As You Like It or a Midsummer’s Night Dream with a nice bottle of red wine to make the evening.
Oh well. We can always try for having another kid.

Vampire Insurance

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Some guy at a garlic processing plant claimed to have been bitten by a vampire and turned into one of them, on his disability claim form.
We suggested that he change to the night shift. You know, because that way he’d stay out of the sun.
Not good enough, he said. Vampires hate garlic at any time of the day, it seems.
So we asked him to prove that he’s a vampire. Turning into a bat or a vapor cloud or something like that. Not giving a reflection would be good enough for us, too.
Claimants can be such bloodsuckers.

Elevator Angst

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I used to be deathly afraid of elevators. I’d look down the gap between the elevator floor and the building floor and worry I’d fall through that crack.
I had nightmares about the bottom of the elevator shaft. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, screaming.
The doctors couldn’t help me. I kept thinking about that dark, bottomless pit.
One day, an elevator supervisor took me to a panel at the bottom of the elevator shaft. He opened it and showed me that the bottom of the shaft was strewn with candy and dimes.
I feel so much better now.

PSP

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Andrew Ian Dodge has a new toy…

It has been a long time coming; but I finally have come round to the joys of handheld consoles. I have tried a few in the past and was left unimpressed. Well my new black PSP has put this all to one side. One awesome piece of kit. I can store my music (yes the stuff I wrote, heh) and music videos on there, watch movies and even take a look at blogs. I have one game for the system so far; Burnout and boy it’s damn good fun. Sony have delivered a device that is great fun and useful.

Do You Have Wars?

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Communication between the dimensions via hyperradio has been severely limited despite centuries of development. Brief messages, rotated ninety degrees from reality like passing notes in school.
Which is what it was used for in the end – grade school penpal projects.
After years of “Do you have a dog?” and “I like flowers.” the notes stopped. The last message to arrive was:
“Do you have wars?”
And that was it. Nothing else. Just hyperstatic.
As dull as they were, we will sure miss the daily chatter with those Earthers.
I think I’ll get the class a pet to raise tomorrow.

Heaven 101

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The first few months in Heaven are anything but. It’s an Eternity when you’re in Halo Manners 101, learning the proper brightness, angle, circumference, and elevation of your halo.
Then there’s Flying School. You might think you’ve been flying forever, but they still need to teach you the Rules Of The Sky.
Unless you played a Lyre during your mortal days, not only do you get to learn fingering and strumming technique for a year, but also have to master tuning the darn thing.
Here in Hell, once you have your horns and pitchfork, you’re on your own.
Happy hunting!