Some things fill me with joy (no examples spring to mind) while others enrage me almost beyond human endurance (this would best be described as 'everything else').
This morning, for instance. As I glance at the clock on my monitor, I see the time is 05:18. Yes, it's a Saturday and I'm wide awake at just after 5 am. Considering that on weekdays I normally have immense difficulty dragging my stinking carcass out of bed any time before 7 am without much foot-stamping and folding of arms, this is a source of huge irritation to me.
Part of the reason I'm awake so early is that I was having a rather vivid dream in which I had to travel to Iceland for work purposes and had, somehow, forgotten all about it. I was in a panic of epic proportions and seemed to be dithering and shouting a lot.
I woke up immediately, confused and anxious about something that simply isn't happening. A perfect way to start the weekend.
The first thing I noticed upon waking was that a little green light was flashing on my mobile phone, indicating that I had either a text message or email. Flicking the phone on, I saw that it was an email telling me that I have a new follower on Twitter, a chap by the name of Tim Cumming. Wonderful, I thought, more Twitter spam most likely. I was wrong, yet strangely right.
You see, when I clicked on his profile I saw that Tim was one of those people who likes to motivate others via the medium of pointless, trivial sayings and trite cliches. But, with mounting amusement and anger, I saw that Tim has raised his game somewhat by including some of the most inane, nonsensical drivel that I've ever had the misfortune to cast my eyes over.
Thus, this blog post is dedicated to Tim and his unstoppable tsunami of bullshit. I shall present some of Tim's nuggets of wisdom and describe my own thoughts. Enjoy.
"Insert a smile into every conversation."
In theory, a nice idea. But let's see how it operates in what I like to call 'the real world'.
"Well, Mrs. Taylor, it appears that at the speed your husband was travelling, the fence post would have penetrated both the windscreen and his sternum at something approaching 60 miles per hour. It appears that in a moment of extraordinary good fortune, the nanny goat on his lap that he appeared to be sodomising when his vehicle left the road, actually slightly deflected the impact and caused the post to miss all of his major internal organs. Unfortunately, that does cause me to conclude that he literally bled to death in an agony that the human mind can barely begin to comprehend. If he hadn't perished over a period of six hours from exsanguination, the sheer horror of his experience would have rendered him quite, quite insane and most likely have led to his permanent confinement in an institution for the rest of his life. Fortunately, that didn't happen because he's now dead. Whilst buggering a goat." *Beams broadly*
See? A smile really helped in that conversation didn't it? What better way to sweeten the bitter pill of a recently departed loved one engaging in 'the love that dare not speak its name' than with a big old smile? This man is a genius.
"Push is better than punish."
I think Tim has tapped into something hugely important here that could absolutely transform prison services across the globe. We're all aware that levels of overcrowding are at an all time high and I think he's hit on an idea that could see our correctional facilities emptied almost overnight.
"Mr. Fitch, in my thirty-six years as a high court judge, I have rarely come across such heinous acts of barbarism and wanton blood lust. The very sight of you chills me to the bones. You displayed no compassion for your victims, instead choosing to snuff out their lives in the most perverse and sadistic ways imaginable. Rape, torture, murder, necrophilia, the list is endless. You have broken every taboo, flown in the face of common decency, and committed crimes that are scarcely within the realms of human understanding. You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers and it is up to me to pass sentence. Gerald Fitch, I sentence you to take some time out. Buy a half-caff latte, read a Sunday newspaper, go for a long walk. Just try and clear your head, spend a bit of time thinking about what you've done wrong, and try not to do it again. I think that you could really benefit from a long, slow swim in lake Gerald. Now, if I see you in this court again, I really will be quite miffed, so think on."
I think it's an absolute winner.
"The reality is much more fun than your fantasy."
I'm sorry, but I really must take exception with this one. To clarify my adversarial position, I present the following evidence.
Here's my fantasy of what happened last night:
I arrive home after a couple of days working away and, upon entering my flat, am somewhat surprised to detect the unmistakable aroma of cooking lamb. Trudging up the stairs, I wander into the kitchen and see two slow-cooked lamb shanks nestling on piles of fluffy mashed potatoes, with a bottle of good red wine open nearby. My mouth involuntarily curls into a smile and I look around, confused. "Hello?" I call out. From within the bedroom, I hear a rustling. Dropping my bag, I walk into the bedroom and there, reclining naked on the bed is Angelina Jolie, finger playfully drawing around the outline of her full, eminently kissable lips. "Hey Dan, thought I'd surprise you with something nice to eat."
I grin and slide onto the bed next to her. She wraps me up in her arms and presses me to her ample bosom. We start to kiss, eager hands exploring each other. Cue romantic music and a slow fade to black.
Got home. Realised the milk in the fridge was off. Consumed a meagre repast of instant soup and stale bread. Had a wank. Went to bed.
Now, which one is 'more fun'? You tell me. Come on Tim, which one is fucking better? Eh? EH? The reality is most decidedly NOT better than the fantasy and to suggest otherwise is stupidity of the highest order.
"Don't tell me it can't be done. The world is full of impossible things we do regularly. Like airplanes!"
I think it's important to dedicate a little time to breaking this one down.
First, let's perform a search for 'airplane' in Google pics. Immediately, we see there are over 13 million pictures of planes. If we search for 'aeroplane', the correct English spelling, we get another 2 million results. I think, on the basis of this simple experiment, we can reasonably assume that planes exist. However, I think what Tim was getting at was that planes actually flying in the air is 'impossible'. We need to dig a little deeper.
Let's visit an on-line Dictionary and find an appropriate definition of the word 'impossible'.
Impossible: not possible; unable to be, exist, happen, etc.
OK, good. We're making some headway. Now, let's just check out some basic facts regarding aviation. According to Arthur Arnelt at ABC Aviation, "There are four forces involved in flying: drag, thrust, lift, and weight. The lift force pushes the plane upward. Thrust is the force that makes a plane move forwards. Drag is the force that slows down the plane. The force of drag counters the thrust."
OK, so all this sciencey physics stuff sounds plausible in theory, but I remain unconvinced without hard evidence. Let's visit the website of the National Air Traffic Controllers Association to see if there's any truth to this flying nonsense.
Well lawks-a-lordy and criminy, it appears that in the United States alone there are something in the region of 87,000 flights per day. This is an interesting statistic, but I'm still not sure. After all, it could be part of some extraordinary conspiracy. I want something I can see with my own eyes.
OK, OK, the evidence is overwhelming. Planes, it would appear, can actually fly. It's not magic, pixie dust, the power of positive thought or anything else. It's merely physics.
Let's now take a moment to consider whether a plane flying is "not possible. Unable to be, exist or happen."
Ummmm.....no. On the basis of the available evidence, it would seem extremely likely that the phrase "The world is full of impossible things we do regularly. Like airplanes!" is not entirely accurate in the strictest sense of the word. Indeed, one might even be tempted to suspect that Tim is talking utter bollocks. But then, that does seem to be his stock in trade.
"Just because they say you can't, means jack!"
This is one of my favourites, if for no other reason than IT MAKES NO SENSE WHATSOEVER. I think Tim might have been a bit angry when he wrote this one, hence the lack of anything approaching meaning or sense. I envisage him at home emerging from his study, naked from the waist down, unshaven and wild-eyed, clutching a sheaf of hastily scribbled pages, shaking his sleeping wife awake and screaming at her, "Eggs! Eggs from cows! Cow eggs! It's a revolution!"
His wife then patiently explains that the biology of cows simply won't allow them to lay eggs - it's a physical impossibility. Tim babbles on for several minutes about calcium supplements, subliminal images of hens piped directly into the barn, and fervent whispers of "Eggs. Eggs. Eggs." into the ears of sleeping cows whilst wearing a chicken suit, whereupon his wife slaps him, crumples up the sheaf of papers and shouts, "God, Tim, you're tearing this family apart, can't you see that? What happened to the man I married? Please, stop. For the love of God, stop." before breaking down in tears, hands over her face, shoulders wracked with sobs.
Tim, shocked and with tears springing to his eyes, marches into the other room where he logs onto the computer and types "Just because they say you can't, means Jack!" before smoothing out his papers, picking up a pencil and rocking back and forth while repeating "Cow eggs" several thousand times.
Occasionally, Tim will tweet a comment that hints at something dark and brooding in his private life. This absolute gem from a few days ago is one such example:
"So she said she doesn't love you any more. Imagine what she'll look like in 60 years. It makes breaking up easier."
Clearly, things are starting to fall apart Chez Tim after the cow eggs incident. I feel it's only a matter of time before the inevitable "She won't let you see your kids? Imagine her with a knife in her face, buried up to the handle. Then laugh." tweet appears. Or, perhaps, "Your wife won't speak to you on the phone and has filed a restraining order? Fantasise about staking her to the ground and repeatedly running her over with a ride-on lawnmower. Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha! Oh God, please come back Marion, I miss you."
I worry for his mental health, I really do.
I could pick apart more of Tim's pearls of wisdom, but some of them are just too inane for anything other than derisive laughter. I present to you here, the cream of the crop:
"Your brain is a high tech instrument running on low tech love."
"A pile of smiles goes a mile."
"Don't just stand there, wave at a stranger and smile!"
"I'm in the explosive hope business."
"Make room for zoom and banish doom."
And, finally, another favourite of mine purely because, in the ultimate act of irony, it makes me very, very angry indeed:
"If you're going to fly into a rage, fly into an encourage."
Tim is a man for whom happiness exists in small snippets of bullshit. If you're the sort of person who's actually inspired by these proverbs, then I wish you the best of luck, but would like you to know before you go on your moronic way that you're an idiot who deserves nothing but scorn. I hope the laughter of the world rings in your ears until the hungry maw of death bids you enter.
On a final note, Tim currently has over 72,000 followers.