Whistling is still the best way to lift ones spirits no matter who says what - that is what I was saying when a careless listener told me that they’d probably only resort to whistling if they were alone, afraid and lost in the forest, in fact, they continued, the only people they could think of who still whistled are woodsmen while chopping thick tree stumps, and those who live in snow-capped environs to remind themselves that they are still alive and well, albeit as frozen as corpses. Whistling can liven up any mood, even it’s by just a tiny bit, I’m sticking with that.
Mind you, it’s the same insensitive soul who put the “Twin Peaks” theme music onto my playlist, it’s so creepy that I cried out for someone in the house to come sit by my side and hold my hand, my already pale knuckles turning whiter than PVA paint, just kidding about the cries, but it was close. As you can imagine the next few weeks saw me sunken into a paler, sullen gloom of melancholy which took a lot to get over, a dozen Hansa’s if I’m not mistaken.
Haven’t we all dreamt of going far away for a long time, re-inventing ourselves and then turning up in some foreign land as an Arab Sheik, a Prince or some other highly thought-of position? If curious looks are cast your way for not having money you could claim that it’s part and parcel of your deeply held beliefs. There you will be feted and lavished with attention at all the swankiest parties, fortuitous for you to say it’s against your firmly held beliefs to turn down invitations or frown on gifts.
Michael Romanoff pulled that one off perfectly in old Hollywood, he posed as some Russian Aristocrat/Prince and everyone wanted to be in his good graces – he then opened a famous restaurant obviously named “Romanoff’s” which was the toast of the town with the who’s who of the day streaming to his door where they clung onto his every untrue word, believed every new lie he uttered. The New Yorker finally exposed him and traced Romanoff's true history from birth, he was deported to France to serve time for fraud.
Who knows what’s real or not? – a while back someone on Twitter re-created himself by hacking my account and making it theirs so I was forced to create another to follow myself and to my pleasant surprise I, or is it he, or she, immediately started posting Tweets that were much more interesting than any I’d ever posted: riling against the system in this one, providing an insider’s view of the D.I.Y. porn industry in the other, sharing Twitpics of the Musée du Louvre in another, defeated, I quit Twitter.
Now for those spiteful people who are either too lazy, spiteful or too busy to Tweet us their most personal, secretive activities and fantasies, Scientists have created a gadget that one can plug onto ones skull that reads brainwaves, it reads whatever you are thinking so you can be asleep and it will post Tweet after Tweet on your behalf. In time there’d be no need for us to even open our mouths to talk, just think what you want to say and that message goes through to the next person. To improve the signal we’d obviously need two antenna’s drilled into either side of our heads, probably above our ears, probably springy with something like a Golf ball on the top.
Microchip-makers are already busy with perfecting products which can be neatly lodged inside the skull to increase brainpower, do away with forgetfulness etc - All kinds of applications will then flood the market ranging from apps for checking your vital statistics to feel-good microchips, all buried in the skull which will ultimately make Skull enhancement surgery (Or as the adverts will say “Cranial Surgery with a choice of real human bones or titanium plates guaranteed to cause envy amongst your friends”) the most fashionable thing on this planet and the next (The Space Tourists having long given up on exotic, relaxing vacations on Mars and returned adequately traumatized).
Everyone will clamor to have their skulls stretched and enlarged to make room for more and more of the latest apps, the constant stretching of the head upwards and outwards will shrink our cheekbones and enlarge our eye sockets, you with me now? Eventually the brain itself will serve no purpose and will be removed, a few being placed in museums for future generations to wonder at. I already have a play pet that repeats everything I say.
Sadly all of this will come at a price as it will all work by loading airtime or data bundles to the allocated slot to the side of your forehead - it will be normal to see people relaxing with an electric cord leading from their heads to the nearest electric socket charging themselves, or sometimes completely off as they reboot themselves – you’ll hear things like “I need to be fully charged for my date tonight”, “You should see the chick in Recharge Booth three” etc Now that we have realized what a waste of time and money the International Space Station is there seems to be one sure way of regenerating excitement and that’s by turning it into a posh Hotel complete with marble entrance-hall/reception area and a huge neon sign outside - crank it up a notch and run a reality show featuring all the guests bickering about how quick the novelty of weightlessness wears off, how the only thing left for them to do is Literally stare out into space.
More good news is that in future you will not have to pay Tax, however each person with a source of income will be given an account number in order for them to deposit a percentage of their pay directly into their elected officials account thus doing away with the age-old burden of Tax Collection. Good news all round I see; the Free State provincial government spent R140m on its website? Anyone knows that there’s nothing better than an appealing, frequently updated website and I’m all for government using social media and other such valuable online tools and applications to ensure that we are well informed about job vacancies, upliftment and business initiates (to help us realize our dreams of economic freedom), and the functioning of the engine that is government and the municipality.
Costs? Since the money didn’t come out of their own pockets I’m sure they didn’t haggle too much about the costs, as everyone knows by now that the wheels of government may be slow but they still need constant greasing, and I guess we should derive a bit of joy from the fact that today someones family member is a lot less stressed over money than they were before this website was upgraded (unlike the majority of us who still dream of our place in the sun). By the by, did anyone see the Google doodle that honored singer and civil rights activist Miriam Makeba to mark her 81st birthday? Now that was something Super-Cool, a very nice change from the negatives of late.
Something else worth a mention is how Charlie Sheen was so keen to mentor Lindsay Lohan and if there’s anyone in this world who is in desperate need of mentoring it’s that little devil Lindsey. From the outset and without knowing her from a bar of blue soap I took one look at her and said to myself, “That girl needs prayer”. With countless parole violations, continued recklessness while on recreational drugs, on top of that, she’s always highly boozed up while driving? That right there could have gotten another person 25 to life so she must just thank God that she’s neither Mexican nor African American.
Lindsey either has too many demons or in my personal opinion, she is cursed, yes, someone has cast an evil spell on her – in any case there’s no better person to talk about wayward lifestyles, exorcisms and winning than Charlie, himself no stranger to weird and inexplicable human behavior. It has been proven time and again that drug abuse is equally prevalent in all racial groups, That’s America yes, but everywhere, Justice is Anything but blind, Oscar's dad gives me the creeps, there's something not right with him upstairs, we’re All affected by crime, when will some people realize that?
We should follow the Russian example where Every citizen is entitled to a week’s treatment at any sanatorium of their choice every three years.
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