Richjones.com

The “Special” Class

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Browsing telescope reviews.  I come across this curiosity.

I am very pleased so far with the 10″ Skywathcer. With [$]shipping and a 10% discount I paid only [$]for this telescope. How can you beat that for a 10″ flex tube dobsonian? The black diamond and creame color scheme is wonderful. I am 6′1″ and the eyepiece height is perfect for me. The flex tube collapes nicely into tow compact parts. Tensioner works fine, nice big collimation knobs on the primary mirror. Sturdy construction. No fan but doubt it is necessary with the partialy open tube design. I considered a truss dob such as the new Orion but did not like the inconvienence of having even more parts to deal with. I have not had a chance to get this under the stars yet so that is why I gave it 4 stars. But so far, what a deal.

Just to be clear, yes, you are correct, there is a fifth star available to this individual but no, quite rightly, the product deserves a rating (and a sub perfect one) because this gimboid champion of logic has been unable to test his new purchase in the field.

In my mind, the moment the “Post” button is clicked, a trapdoor below the deskchair of this genius snaps open and he plunges into the flames within.  Job done, another liability purged from the Spectre Organisation.

Truly Pilkingtonian stupidity.

Google Hits From The Underworld

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I can now announce that this blog has began to get google hits for “turd terrorism”.  Exactly the type of underworld mentality I’m trying to cater to, here.  Marauding sewage based mischief.   Whilst lacking the ethical endurance for such a practice,  I still heartily support those of you brown troops out there innovating in the realm of buttock based scalliwagging.

In an ideal world, it’d also be featuring on the first page for searchterm “Cuntpunching”.   Not so much for the actual act, just the combination of words, promoting such a cohesively visceral mental image.  Should a page exist, detailing cuntpunching techniques, I’d fully accede to their desire to have a higher page ranking.  I’m more of an armchair pundit, see.

Still, having suffered at the hands/caps of the mystical art of “Testiclekneeing” I can honestly say that it seems a touch harsh to strike the genital area.  I’m not sure about any other male in this regard: a strike to my pubicled pouch of potential parenthood activates an immediate and overwhelming desire to make a deposit at the porcelain receptacle of doom.

I’ve often been curious about the biological link between these two acts (the strike and the savage dispatch).  Not enough to search for the wiki, though.  Definitely on my list for “Things to waste company time on” should I ever recommence working for “The Man” again.  Getting fired for searching for the golden link between the testes and bowels would certainly be a humourous and exciting way to go out with flames of glory.

Sheep Mutations

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Standing in a crowd, last night.  A tall, somewhat overweight man takes his position next to me.  As we are packed fairly tight, the general human reflex is to of course, “size up your neighbour for potential static”.  The guard is down somewhat, after all, we’re standing in the middle of a crowd fueled by ecstasy, not alcohol (electronic music festival).  However, by virtue of size, this large male presents somewhat of a risk.

Shortly after, my slight concern is put to rest as the man kindly apologises for slightly brushing against me.  Completely unnecessary but good – we’ll forget about him, then.

Or will we ?

Soon enough, he begins mystifingly picking up items from the floor and throwing them, hard, with a shallow trajectory into the crowd ahead of us.  Not to hit the band, no, to hit the backs of people’s heads.   All the while obliviously dancing jovially to the good natured vibes transmitting in one ear and out the other, good ole’ Karl from Underworld spreading the love, singing “I’m hurting no one, hurting no one” translated in his mind to “hurt someone, hurt someone”.  Simple mistake, anybody could make it.

I realise at this moment that I’m standing next to the “Dr Jeckyll of rave”, an amazing, enigmatic human being, cruelly trapped in a body of a lazy, fat, unfortunate vaginal discharge.  A real credit to the stretch marks he left behind escaping the cocoon.  Possessing the morality of a Saint, he is obviously disabled by the fact his limbs are controlled exclusively by a demon presiding in his testicles.  It’s a real shame.  Quite clearly a Nobel peace prize winning cranium, unfortunately fused on top of a rapist from the neck down.   Pfft.  And they say this evolution crap is real!  Clearly, God made this wonderous child.