Humour & Pathos Rolled Into One Blog Post

         

I'll just stay here, twiddling my fingers until the car directly behind me slams on the brakes or runs me over.  Either way, my face is going to crumble into sand and I'll lose my pretty hot looks.

Personally, I like these particular hats. Yes, they're pretty unique, but Neil and Chris were never known to wear ordinary headgear.

   



Is There Still Time, Brother?

So if it all grinds to a halt tomorrow
And the sad man grasps his weapon
Is it really all our fault?
I've heard we sowed our last hope.

Children, please take heed:
Are you joining Madame Defarge
With her grotesque ball of wool
We will follow her lead of course
What other choice do we have?

The world spins with no leaders
But no harvest will ever see daylight.                                  

Is there still time for us, brother?                                          

There comes a pale horse 
Terrified--knowing the truth

Are we all blind, deaf and dumb?
Equine hooves signal imminent crumbling.                                   

"Chris, why are there so many sad poems on this page?"
"Sad? I fine them hilarious." Chris responds, laughing his head off.

                      

"I robbed a cowboy." Neil said.
"But I  thought you said that you didn't want to be a cowboy." Chris looks puzzled.
"No, Jerry Seinfeld did. Get your stories straight."

Chris looks bored and tired, while Neil plants a smile on his face. "I remember when my parents had dinner parties.  The next morning, the living room was a bloody mess."
"Sounds awful. Was anyone left alive?" 

I'll let you all write your own descriptions of this rather naughty photo. I'm too shy.

Afternoon tea? Correct me if I'm wrong, but does everyone at this party ACTUALLY look as if they're drinking Earl Grey?

                                                      

Is self-deprivation teetering on the brink?
You know how Monks manage, do you not?
Sacrifice is chic, as you'll find out yourselves

Even if there's need for justification

 The battle-worn push out their chests
But your medals will crumble and die.
   A grim prelude, a dire diagnosis.

While a feral cat gets tangled in wool.

lonelyheroine 2018.
                                      

"Hey Neil. Are those guys standing behind us our bodyguards, by any chance?"
"I'm not sure. Do we need bodyguards?"
"Looks like we've arrived!" Chris is delighted.

Neil spins around until he almost throws up.   

Neil decides to take the words on the sign faithfully. But look at that Niagra wave approaching. Okay, it's the falls. Just trying to inject some levity.

This guy doesn't realise that he's destroying his own laptop.

                                             

"The price of fame. Having to attend these boring radio shows." Neil struggles to stay alert.
"I hate Avril Lavigne." Chris repeats a few times, just in case anyone thinks he's no Avril fan.

                   

"Chris, I have an uneasy feeling about this."

"Me too. Let's wait until the car stops and then we can make a run for it."

Probably most of us has seen this, but it bears repeating

                      

     

      

   

       This Silence Is Deafening

Waves, ah those miniscule, unforgiving

Facial lines that have stubbornly                                      

Refused to go out with the tide.
Never trust the sand, with its evil grimace

Are we ready or not? Comfortable with the pain?                  

But who or what started the dominos falling?

Who wants it all to end? Little kids refusing food
Is nothing new, unfortunately. Or is it?
Pigeons are erasing the beach.              

Greedily consuming what's left
Of humanity as we know it. 
                                         

                                 

You bring out the best of me, you know

I highly suspect it's because 

You're able to scream so loud                                    

That those slow-moving losers

In your perfect suburban paradise

Will get a reality check.

Lonelyheroine 2018

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Now, while I'm still gobsmacked. Donald Trump, who can buy anything his little heart desires--including the American Presidency is a travesty, to put it mildly. At least,  that's` what I think. I so wish my father was still with us--he'd just FREAK. He'd be incredulous and think he was having a bad dream.  And that, when he'd awaken to realise the awful truth: America has completely lost the plot. This celebrity fixation we've all been privy to will be our ultimate downfall. Donald Trump's self-serving series, The Apprentice cemented this wheeler dealer as a bona fide reality TV sensation. With a boardroom shrouded in darkness, he dismisses anyone with his signature "You're fired!" until a winner learns how to play the game in order to be ultimately crowned THE APPRENTICE.

I watched the first three episodes and called it a day. Most of my friends loved it for some bizarre reason and so did my parents and hung on until the finale,

None of us, at this time in history, could have seen this coming.  Actually, the lines are blurred, solely because the The Apprentice slides effortlessly into the race for The Presidency. Now that is truly depressing.   I doubt that this phenomenon would occur in any country other than America. No offense meant for most hard working Americans.