Posting articles on this here News24 site can be quite a challenging process as I see it. Challenging in the sense that an author has to make absolutely sure all sources, if any, used within an article or even a comment placed with regards to an article are properly cited and credit given where credit is due, for it seems as from within the dark, supposed uninhabitable reaches of this domain, dwells indeed the creatures of the eventide, eagerly lying in wait for a prey to bare to shreds should an author start cutting into the very essence of that what they’re so desperately trying to run away from. Thus, in order to shelter an impending nakedness, articles are scrutinized thoroughly and tallied against a world wide web for similar articles existing elsewhere. Should any such similarities be found through a meticulous copying and pasting process, after being successfully irked by the author of the piece they’re about to discredit, their frantic searches now blossoms into sneering smirks: and oh behold, like repetitive parrots they start to screech – “thou shalt not plagiarise; thou evil Christian man!”
Regardless of the fact that said article be about my grand mama, braiding in lonely retirement a snugly coat for a puppy cold – yet in evil parrot tone their shrieks behold; “thou shalt not plagiarise; thou evil Christian man!”
Yes my fellow readers. These creatures of the eventides, in nakedness they squirm, are those unruly Atheists on News24 abreast. Although I do admire them for this abreast posture, this appreciation soon ferments into a feeling of exasperation towards a frivolousness individual vying for attention in the group and so completely out of touch with reality.
NOTE ON THE SIDE: I’m definitely not in the habit of condoning plagiarism and if Mr. Author does indeed plagiarise his articles; then so be it – bash his ugly head.
Having addressed the issue of plagiarism successfully I hope? Here follows the actual, un-plagiarised article I intended to submit initially.
When You Wish Upon Utopia
You see, my dilemma started a few weeks ago after my wife, who has been nagging me like forever to fix a 110 year old wooden box she received as a gift on her 21st birthday, decided that tomorrow will be the day for me to repair that old box, as previous attempts in trying to get me to do the job came upon deaf ears.
It was actually a mere old cedar-wood chest, but well over 100 years old with bits of wood starting to rot away at its edges.
Scantily clothed in a see-through, show it all pyjama top that Friday evening, she somehow managed to persuade me, and without really trying too hard as well, that I actually needed to fix that old box. The promise of paradise awaited me for a job well done. Hints towards a quick jog through paradise before doing the actual repair work didn’t achieve the response I was hoping for and I ended up spending the night on the couch after she decided randy Andy was starting to give her a headache and stupid me, being at a hormonal peak that Friday evening totally overplayed my hand by suggesting that bicycles don't get headaches.
Truly. Madly. Deeply. In Testosterone I Trod.
Still driven by those enormous levels of testosterone of the night before, I was up early the next morning, tip-toeing down the hall towards the bedroom. As I peeked into the room, secretly wishing the missus had a change of heart during the night and decided upon a romp through utopia after all, I noticed my lass, still fully clothed in that scanty pyjamas, fast asleep atop the bed. The promise of paradise of the night before rampaged through my mind and it was in that moment of crave that I made the decision. I’m building my girl a brand new chest this day. A chest worth much more than restored 100 year old cedar-wood: for in this new chest will be time immortal.
As silently as possible, I dragged the old chest through the house and out into the back yard. An idea in achieving this, not to difficult task of building a brand new, yet millennia old chest entered into my mind as I was watching my loved one asleep on the bed.
Back in my college days some nutty professor, I cannot for the love of it remember his name, always use to carry on about the Big Bang and how that cosmic wonder exploded into an oxygen deprived environment of nothingness into existence the world as we know it today. According to the Big Bang theory, the universe was once in an extremely hot and dense state which expanded so rapidly with pressures leading to a loud KABOOOOOM, still being heard today apparently so, and life abounds.
Today I’m going to emulate that explosion and explode my sleeping beauty a brand new tinderbox into existence. With axe in hand and determined as hell, I started hacking away at that old chest. The promise of love asleep my actions guided.
Eventually the chest was in pieces but I didn’t care. Today I’m getting laid and nothing was going to stop this chap. Living on a Free State farm came in handy today as my surroundings was just right for this emulation to work. I was surrounded by nothingness and I was two up on the original Big Bang. I had oxygen. The Big Bang didn’t. I was a miner by trade and had some dynamite available; the Big Bang didn’t.
Now just to dig a quick hole, so as to at least simulate the density of that age old nothingness too, I dumped 2 sticks of dynamite into the hole and then hacked to bits the last of the cedar wood box, yet soon to be brand new chest atop the dynamite into the hole as well. I ran a 10 meter fuse wire towards close proximity of an enclosure where I could hide when everything goes bang. As I lid the fuse I realized this explosion could just as easily create a black hole which might suck me into an alternative reality. I moved to the back of the safety enclosure. I was not willing to take any chances. My college professor was quite adamant; from total disorder the Big Bang blew everything into perfect order. I was therefore assuming it could create disorder as well. Sucking me into a reality where monkeys ran rampant, creating wheels and inventing fire while waiting upon evolution to catch up to them to turn them into hunky men so they too could enjoy life as I was enjoying it.
For some reason I suddenly find myself thinking about the monkeys that weren’t home when evolution came knocking on their trees millennia ago. Did they possibly go scavenging through the jungle for food that fateful day, only to return home to find their mates turned human? Well, if their mates happened to evolve into Chinese nationals those poor monkeys ended up as stewing beef for sure or possibly some exotic aphrodisiac.
As I continue to dream about the pleasures of aphrodisiacs, reality resettles upon me a few hours later as I open my eyes on a hospital bed, all bruised and sore, the missus sitting at my bedside, fully clad and totally peed of, explaining to me how the wall of the farm dam came down on me as I blew her chest to bits. I suddenly realized I was going to be working as hard as hell to regain that piece of paradise I was so eager to enter into.
Damn you professor what’s his name; for selling me your evolutionary, big bang rubbish in my days of innocence, for today, in times of dire needs, my eagerness for love literally ended up with myself being thrown into the primordial soup of total misfortune and a beautiful corner of paradise most probably lost for a very long time.