Jimlad

April 25th, 2006

I would like to intelligently point out that the only reason I could possibly have written this is because I am intelligent enough to overrule other people’s opinion on sentance structure such as not repeating the same word more than once in the same sentance or using punctuation or spelling words wrongly or not writing long sentances etc so that other furious thinkers have gathered their intelligence on me and taken notice of my intelligence and allowed me into their angrily intelligent organisation so you can expect me to write lots of stuff that is based on my habit of daydreaming intelligently rather than resorting to building other people’s intelligent work like Zoomtard does as I do not approve of education and no one is truly intelligent unless they reinvent the wheel themselves rather than using other people’s descriptions clichés observations and suchlike but as yet I am going to keep you in suspense regarding what I am thinking right now as I am a very busy man.

For the past five months, it has been my task to sit down and stare straight ahead, keeping my body still save for my tiny, perturbing fingers. The occasional twitch of the mouth is acceptable, lolling the head merrily from side to side less so and singing random hymns is frowned upon (yet another example of discrimination against the church).

Speaking of this, seeing that all was well amidst the brethren of one sacred society and that it was difficult for me to do more than supervise the unfolding of their plans to conquer an area far far away, I decided to bring my particular talents to bear to a more needy group close by my current residence. Being a man of action, I acted on this decision some time ago and since then I have transformed the Sunday’s of this church. It is unlikely that others may have thought to do what I have done, but even if they had none could have succeeded. I have filled a place on a seat for the past months with a bottom that no one else can perfectly emulate. I have added a new voice to their music and specifically - it is my voice that has been added. I see the organist nodding to himself appreciatively as his ear singles my voice out from the masses. And how they thank me for my mere presence, marveling at my youth, prodding my eye-balls and nodding with smug satisfaction at the youthful rate of my reaction. “Ah, the passionate indignation of youth” they say.

And then there was the mighty battle with the corporation who sought to prevent me from visiting this virtual world that we know as the world, Wideweb. You may remember that I once disguised myself and infiltrated their dark tower for several months, leaving it a week or so before I found the ring and brought it on a journey to the Ottoman Empire (see Yeats’ “Sailing to Byzantium”) with my now famous companion, Curly Dee, where I threw it into the sea from whence it came not, looking up to the heavens in satisfaction as I saw the Death Star explode in a haze of mixed metaphors. From my prior espionage I had escaped with some inside information that stood me in good stead, and yet it took a full quarter of a year (even with the aid of Curly Dee) before the way was opened for full communication to be possible with Wideweb. Even now some pamphlets have come into my possession that display an attempted theft which I must counter before I finally allow traffic through. I am currently allowing vocal communications only to pass through the portal as this involves too little information to allow even half-lives through or facilitate bandits. To my faithful followers: I will visit you more frequently when the gateway is fully operational.

Slim Jim, an evil legacy of, em, evil
From now on, when we meet in public you are to call me Slim Jim. Lo! I was in a holy place and I felt god speaking to me, saying “Go forth in my name”, so I said, “what is your name that I may go forth in it?”, but I couldn’t really hear what god was saying; the wishy (or was it washy? maybe both) feeling of being in his presence was giving way to nausea as I strained desperately to hear, and I thought I’d better stop asking questions in case god was annoyed with me. I thought well, he’s given me a brain so he’s obviously telling me I need to use it. So I thought about other recent revelations until it came to me.

I joined a gym (note: GYM not jim! I’m jim and the gym was in) and they had to measure my blood pressure because I wanted to do weights because they didn’t take as long as other exercise even if they are boring. So. They said I had high blood pressure which I thought was strange because I am young yet and not vastly overweight. Hmm, the plot thickens. So I went to the doctor and he took some blood and tasted it, and then measured my blood pressure with a 24 hour thing and said my blood pressure was OK and the high blood pressure from the original test was because I didn’t like getting my blood pressure taken, which made my blood pressure rise - sort of a Heisenberg uncertainty effect going on there (according to someone). But then he stopped and frowned. He licked his lips and ran his tongue around his mouth. “Uh.. I think..” he said, and held onto the desk. He started shuddering, slowly at first, then quickly until he was positively vibrating! Positively vibrating, not negatively mind because then he would have died of course. Then he shook himself and relaxed, and finally shifted to face me. I will never forget that look - eyes sharp and piercing, expression serious as he uttered the words that would change my life forever. “I taste high cholesterol” he spoke.

It turns out that this is my parent’s fault. My father, along with most of his family are hereditary. That’s what the doctor said anyway, and it means they generate more cholesterol than necessary, and apparently my father did this to me too. This is not the first time he has sought to control me from afar. He had the cheek to lend me money when I needed it in order to become a master (see He-man and the Masters of the Universe), and now I must consider the best way to give it back. Oh he says not to worry about it, but I know it is all part of a sinister plot. I know. So now I have to avoid cheese and full fat milk which I used to have every day. Apart from that I was fairly healthy but I believed in cheeses. They were my life. No chocolate either. And I have to become really active. That is why I have to become Slim Jim, not out of choice, but out of duty to my family.

It could have been worse. I was afraid that I might be turning into a diabetic at one point. I don’t know what that is, but I know what diabolical is. I think it is a diabolical robot. It sounds cool but I’m in a different school. I rule. You mule. ~Eat Gruel, fool! cos I’m into maths just like Boole!

Anyway, I am going to take my considerable talent and transform the Christian Music scene by writing music that is relevant and rhymes, and is natural and living. Taking my music I will start a new type of Presbyterianism, a break-away that will be known as the Organic Presbyterians. We will state our outrage that the Westminster Catechism requires no good Christian to eat organic food and save the earth for Jesus. That is to say, it doesn’t mention organic food and it should as this is moral. What new dangers will lie in wait around this corner? You will have to wait and see. I have done so much already in my short life. Now I am going forth. Slim Jim at your service.

Disclaimer: BBC have asked me to say that they have nothing to do with any embellishment of the truth here. They say they don’t even know me, before anyone starts to question them to make them publicly renounce their alleged words so please, please just leave them alone. They also want to make a public statement that the explosion of the death star was coincidental to the loss of any wedding rings or any epic journey to dispose of a similarly fashioned ring, which also had nothing to do with telecommunications companies. The labels used in this piece were obviously carefully chosen to imply great adventure where there was none and the person who wrote it all is a sad, lonely man who has minimal impact on even local affairs, save that he gives the impression (by playing with phonetics) that the church is a conspiratorial society, and this has resulted in a major, baseless turn in public opinion which may shape the church of coming years. Also, typing at a computer daily is not considered an amazingly difficult task. And he doesn’t even practice the piano enough, and he isn’t slim. That is all the BBC have to say. Good evening.

Just leave your comment there.I
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It’s been months since you’ve left a comment. Come on, say something!

I’m talking about this dude here. I know exactly what he’s talking about, and all he had to say is: I tried out teaching, but it didn’t suit me. Now I have a new job, feeling good about it. Instead he goes and makes a huge song and dance about it. Well, a maybe just a song … ahem, without any music. That’s cos he doesn’t have my musical talent. He’s always asking me to make up music to his lyrics, but he doesn’t get it. I don’t care about him. He’s an idiot … a religious idiot, in fact, who has to make even the most fun stuff in life into a tedius religious lesson. Did you know he won’t even have sex with his wife? He says that marriage is about godly partnership. Not about gooey physical stuff. You never know who might be watching. Though, of course, he would say God is always watching. They make nice dinners together instead.

You know what else? This guy once annoyed me by suggesting an idea that I’d already thought of. I was having a conversation with my fan club where they were asking me what I’d do for my next blog title. That was before I ruined it all by my, “high-levels of kookoo and has nothing to do with me or my superb blog.” according to Goodthink, the new face on the web who has clearly made it her goal to destroy me by her clever use of psychology. I still haven’t forgotten that. And I’m not kookoo. My fan club still love me, even since that episode. They just don’t know what to say anymore. They are too in awe of me to comment on any of my posts. You know, this morning, the moment I woke up, I clutched myself in glee and said, “Oooh, It’s me!”. That’s how happy I am about being me, and you’ll never bring me down. Never!

But anyway, I was saying… This Dave guy, he suggested I have a blog where I slag off another blog, which would in fact be also my blog. That would be funny, he said. As it happened, I’d already planned on doing that in my very next post, and then I couldn’t, because it would be unoriginal. Grrr. Well I decided to leave it until everyone had forgotten that conversation, so that no one would realise I was stuck for ideas. Anyway, another of my fans, zoomtard, said in the same conversation, why didn’t I slag off Dave on my website, by putting up a silly picture of him on it. Now, Dave is a dangerous guy to slag, and it seems kind of mean anyway, but sometimes if one wants to keep on being popular, when fiends like Goodthink are trying to bring you down, you just have to give the fans what they want. So I tried drawing Dave from memory. The tiny face in the middle was my first attempt.

It went downhill from there. So I decided to forget about his face. You see, I reckon Dave could take me to pieces given the chance, so I have to take him out in one go, by giving him the most offensive slagging ever. Ha ha. Here is the picture. I was able to do both!

The main point being of course, that Dave is in fact TALL! The poor guy. Also, he hates pigeons. That pretty much sums him up. And to add one final insult, Dave, I’ll call you a sheep’s bleeting noise. You’re maaaaaaaaa. I’ve never understood that one, but that’s what makes it so good. How can you make a comeback against an insult you don’t understand? By repeating it back at the person who slagged you I suppose. That’s what everyone in school did. Hopefully Dave won’t think of that.

Anyway even if he does slag me back I don’t care. I’ll go hang out with my friends, who are all cool. We even have our own special sayings that only we understand. I’m going to talk to them right now in fact, cos they’ll all comment on this page now that I’ve satisfied their desire for entertainment.

All right, I’ve got a few minutes. Here, take some. No no… I’ve plenty. Here, stigmund, do something good with them. I don’t do anything these days (I got married), so I’m giving away my spare time. I’ll keep a little for blogging, but I don’t have anything to write about, besides teaching. And I’m giving that up so.. Yeah, giving it up, did you not hear? Yeah, that’s life, isn’t it. How are you doing anyway? Oh is that right? Yeah, same here. I find that I’ve so many difficult things to deal with. Gosh my life is such a struggle, it must be really important if I have to struggle this much. Since it’s so important I’ll continue to tell you about it for a while, no I should condescend to ask you how you are. How are you? Oh really? Yeah, I know exactly what that’s like. Do you know I’m giving up my teaching job? Yeah I’m going into another job. It’ll probably be even worse, but that’s me, that’s me, my life is important so I have to struggle no matter what.

Feck that, I’m going to play a computer game. Bye bye school. If anyone is wondering why there’s no teacher in the next class, it’s because Mr. Lad has given up on reality.

Sorry, not now. I don’t have time.

Lately I’ve been getting quite irritable. Normally nothing much gets on my nerves. It must be my new job. For instance, every time I say, “This is about office tea cups” people think I’ve just said, “This is a bout of fisticuffs” and start punching at me, with me weaving back away and hitting my head off the wall. I’m getting paranoid now. I’ve started arranging to talk to people far away from any nearby walls when I need to say, “This is about office tea cups” to them, which is really difficult. The thing about nearby walls is, as soon as you go far away from them they aren’t nearby walls any more. They morph in some really weird way that I can’t describe or even understand so that they become instead distant walls, and then I have to go back to them and start again. I haven’t figured it out yet because just as I’m starting to get my head around it (it always takes a few tenuous walks away, a few quick spurts and cautious returnings to the spot beside the wall) someone comes over and says, “What’s this all about?” and I say… well you know what I say since you already know what it’s about. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t even work in an office. I can’t remember how the whole thing started. That’s all that irritates me really, but it is very irritating.

Heh. Still slightly amusing every time I think about it. Though it used to be a vibrant comedy in glorious technicolor, and now I have to squint to see a faded monochrome image, sort of a double image, like the original image made itself skinny and fat at the same time. Still makes me laugh though. Once I laughed at an unexpected but beautiful step in a maths derivation when I was driving myself crazy in fourth year trying not to fail. Try not to do that. It brings on low self esteem when someone normal rubs their normality in your face. Can’t meet their eyes. They know I’m really strange. Weird. Why would I be that strange? Why would I laugh at a mathematical proof? Look at them, blinking at sociably acceptable rates with their eliptical eyes, eminating sound waves, reflecting electomagnetic radiation. I wish they’d stop doing that. I wish I wasn’t here. Oh, I’m not. Well, goodbye.

Heh. Heh heh heh heh heh, HAAHaHAHAAhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahHAHAHA Ha. Ha, haaa, aaaaaah. Ah.

Aaah, that was good. Here, this is going to be my funniest yet. No, sorry. Ok. Here you are:

This hahahahahahahaha HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAHA. HA HA HA HA HA HAHA HAHA HAHA hgghhhhhghhhhhghhh, ooargh, better stop myself, if there’s one thing I hate it’s self indulgent laughter that sounds like breathing difficulty, well, next to people who say, “loo” that is.

I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait for my next entry. Hopefully it won’t be as funny and you’ll get to read it. Incidentally, I would have written one before now, but I’ve been writing about my travels to Punchestown whenever I have had a chance between housework, people and job hunting (people hunting is my favorite, housework is way too easy to hunt down and doesn’t feel pain and jobs are way too hard and difficult to kill without repercussions). In the absence of photographs of Punchestown I have substituted thousands of words. If only I had more time to spend on pointless exercises. Writing is EVEN better than sliced bread regardless of the content. Soon I will put it on the internet and you can waste your HAHAHAHAHAHhhhaaaaaA, ahem, sorry the true subject of this blog just popped into my head again, time for a while too.