I guess it's hard trying to be amusing or interesting, but let me just describe my interesting day to surely interest you all.
I live in a single-cell brain where writing this makes me feel almost intelligent, almost as much as a US President. Only joking, a drug-addicted alcoholic baboon could be the President of the USA, and already has been.
No, what I want to drone on about over and over and over about is about about sending in endless articles about myself into a website that is - or was - supposed to feature spoofs, satires and lampooneries, but now largely is filled largely by long and tedious chapters about something nobody is the slightest bit interested in reading. In.
On the D block here there's a black and white man who is a human and breathes air and plays chequers, and on the C block there's some air that I can breathe. Amazing, I know. And in Kentucky there's a race horse that also doth verily be breathing air. Who says Yankicans can't wroit satire? Not 60 million Britons, that's for sure, sir!
And on Thursday I learnt to spell Hinglish correctamably, and did not seem to those bad Brits even more of a joke than Pakistanis what tries to speak the language of the Raj correctibly. 'Why do those Britties endless larf at us?, I said to mom at visiting time, while she dried my tears with a 32 ounce hamburger, 'surely us Americans are so smart, so tough, so -'
'Oh, shut up!', she said to me, 'and go into the corner and cry into a flag', and he realised that American men were seen by the rest of the world as mommies' boys that didn't even know what time of day it is, let alone know who Victor Hugo was. Whoever he was. A famous racehorse, I guess.
As Luther walked porpoisefully towards a little used, and Doris Lessingly bad grammaticals, and more commas, putting one foot in front of the other, Eduardo breathed more air and wondered if there was a knitting circle he could join to spare himself the agony of skipping all of these pointless 'articles'.
Then Luther saw that Eduardo had been crying, crying because the bad boys and girls in Britain were laughing endlessly at the Unimportant States of Armenia, so he left and fixed himself another 64 ounce lardburger and then went to vote for a cocaine-addicted alcoholic monkey to be his leader in Block Duh.'
'Pretty good, huh?', he thought, then felt better again Then he wrote article after after article in a seemingly never-ending series of unhumourous and unsatirical tales about almost mind-numbingly boring non-happenings, because this website is the only place that will 'publish' such stuff.
Life is like a bowl of All-Bran - you have to put up with American chaff just to make yourself feel healthy, but everything American always ends up in the khazi after a few hours anyway, especially articles that nobody wants to read but fills this place up because Americans can't write satire but need their comfort blankets, like their airline pilots who need to be called 'heroes' for doing what every airline pilot in the world is trained to do. And like their idiotic Presidents. Whatever that non-sequitorial sentence is supposed to mean.
In Chapter 115 how I think speaking English means I am a writer, and how I decide to go to the library and to find out that not only has the USA no real history compared to Europe but also that there's 30,000 years of European history to read up on, the Roman Empire alone would take a lifetime to learn all about.
But the USA's non-history could be summed up as - colonised by England, copied English culture, became weak, was used by England in two World Wars, is still being used by them in Iraq and Afghanistan, and still speaks English. But thinks it's somehow an important and 'independent' country!
At least Americans can fail at writing lampoons and satire - they've failed at everything else in their history. If Americans don't like people telling them that then they could always change their country for the better. Fat chance. Just leave running the world and also satirising it to the grown-ups that do such things very well - the British, the French and the Spanish, and probably the Russians and Chinese too.
Now where did I put my sense of humor, again? Ah, behind my Walmart President's doll with string pull - when you pull it it says 'Four more years, yes we can, read my lips, ga ga ga, goo goo goo, skin color bad commies if it wasn't for us avoiding most of two World Wars you would be speaking German, imagine believing your own bullshit like that, ga ga ga ga, goo goo goo goo'.
Part 116 hopefully won't follow this drivelling keck that my 5-year old niece ackcherly wrote in my lunch hour. And after lunch i will be drawring cows and pigs and having some nice juice and a biskit. Mrs. Gnarglethraap-O'Breedfarmingski says I'm a good girl cos I helped her clean the blackboard,
and wants me to write more articles about my skool for that webbed site The Sloop dot comma, Yoday's - Toady's lunch is going to be a 200 pound oilyburger and fries as I don't know what chips meanses as I did not invent the Engerlish languamage, and heck, I'm a-beginnin' to sound like an American President talkin' like this!'
'Shucks, heck, yes we can - eek! - four more years - help! - I sure ain't misunderestimating my situation in this fine school, that - Mom! - we can now most certainly and assuredly say is - I mean Mum! Help! - the most powerful school in the world, and ladies and - my worst nightmare come true! Being an American President! - gentlemen and boys and girls and inbred children in Missouri, let us not boldly split the infinitive unwisely. Let us not drone on and on and on like Tony Blair at a government inquiry. No, I am mean yes.'
'So let us now pretend its the 1800s again in America, where the shade of people's skins matters and where the rest of the world cares nothing about the USA - got that one right, folks! OK, feeble apple pie carefully-rehearsed 'ad-lib' there - and where a 5-year old British schoolgirl could make more adult and meaningful speeches than the President of the USA, who has recently been -
a cheap crook and thief, a grinning idiot with big teeth, a failed movie actor with no brains, a mass-murdering war criminal, another grinning idiot with no brains, the mass-murderer's alcoholic, brain-damaged son, and a third grinning idiot that just waves and smiles a lot but never does anything else.
More meandering and rambling articles as we get them.