Tuesday, October 10, 2006

"We have a problem, we're looking for a word that describes what you do." Neo Illogism

Dear Neo, Nothing neo about your problem. You think you have a problem with what we do? Well, guess what, we have the biggest problem with what we do. And still, we keep doing no matter what? What? We have no idea. We keep trying to come up with words for what we do, but all we end up doing is coming up with words for what we think other people do and nothing to help us get any closer to understanding what we do. The long and the longer of it is, we spend a great deal of time grappling with what we do while trying to get closer and closer to what we really want to do. What's worse, we're not quite sure we know what we want to do. Every time we think we know what we want to do, we only end up getting even farther away from what we should be doing. Should, should. should! That word again. That's another problem we have with what we do. We always think it's not what we should be doing. Naturally, we have no idea what we do; we're always trying to do what we should be doing. Which brings us back to the question of what do we do to solve your problem? We think. We agonise. We worry. We deny. We wait. We wait. We wait. We wait. We grate. We do not mate. Yes, that's one thing we just do not do. We do all the things that make it impossible to mate. And that solves an important side of what we do. You now know what we do not do. Back to what we do. We write. We write. We write. We try not to write. We wish we didn't write. And then, we write. We write. We write. Some people say we do not write. We sometimes wonder, is that what we do? We write to find out if writing is not what we do. We question. Yep, that's something we most certainly do. We answer. Yep, that fucking too. We do not provide the right answers, but we definitely answer to humans' nature. It's what makes us write. Write. And write. We spend most of our miserable life answering. We answer all the questions that life demands of us. At least, we try to. We wish we didn't have to. Oh yeah, we wish. Hmm. Yes, we definitely wish. We wish all the time. We, even, wish we didn't wish. And because we wish and do not wish to wish, we write. Write. And write. So many word years later, we're still not sure what we do. Are you beginning to understand what we do? If so, do tell us. It would be a very neo spin, we're sure, on what we do. Of course, we could have saved you all this talk from us trying to tell you what we do by simply telling you what our not-so-friendly but very wise inner voice Conscience Confucius once said when, in a weak moment, we asked him what we do. He said, "The only thing you do is what you don't want to do. You're too afraid to do what you want to. The day you start doing what you want to do, you won't need another word on what you do." After that, we were too afraid and confused to ask him anything. Still, if you're still looking for a word for what we do, try muse. Waste. Cut. Paste. Copy. Edit. Undo. Do. Redo. Rail. Fail. Gaze. Debase. Wank. Tank. Hide. Cry. Try. Try? Try...hmm, interesting word that. Probably, the perfect word to describe what we will never do, while trying to. Conscience was right, we're too fucking petrified to. Your garbose Agony.

"I have worries. I don't know what to do with them." Worry Wart Hog

Dear Worry W. Hog, You have worries? No worries. Just give 'em to us. We collect worries. Other people collect stamps, coins, ideas, books, money, bodies, scalps, designations, degrees, music and the like. We prefer worries. We're pretty sure you don't care much for your worries. We know you'd rather be rid of them. We know that's why you've come to us. We know how little people care for worries. We know people are too little to care much for worries. Unfortunately, worries demand that people care for them more than people care to. That's the thing about worries. They're high maintenance. Very. Worries take your mind off more important things. So take all your worries of your mind and give 'em to us. We don't mind. It's why we got into this business of dealing with agonies. We used to be in many other businesses before this. We got into all these businesses, typically, to deal with the many worries we were faced with in life. Unhappily enough, these other businesses we were in just couldn't deal with the worries we thought they'd help us banish. Every time we worried about something, we turned to our business for help. Everytime we turned to our business to help us with our worries, we ended up neglecting the business of the business. All our businesses felt let-down, were a let-down and let us down with a thud on a bed of more worries. As a result, we always ended up distraught and helpless with the state of affairs we found ourself in. Our businesses ended up getting ruined. Everything went down the tube. All we were left with were worries. Nobody bothered to help us. Nothing came our way. Everything was broken. We were broken. Then, we picked ourselves up and looked around. And when we look around we realised, the most valuable things we were left with were pure, priceless, gold-standard, unadulterated, big, small, medium sized, chunky, nuggetlike, spotless worries. Everywhere we turned, we were faced with more lonely, orphaned, unwanted worries needily staring us back in the face. Our heart melted. We were hooked. We couldn't say no to the poor critters. Besides, why look a gift horse in the mouth? And so, we decided to turn to worries for the solution to all our worries. Happily enough, they didn't let us down. Very soon, we turned all our worries into a big, successful, blue and chipper business of worries. What's more, we channelled this world full of worries into our business of worries. Now, when we worry, it's just more raw material for the profit centre of Worry Gory Inc. When anyone has worries, it's just more raw material for the company of prospering worries. Free. Every worry only adds to the bottomline. Freely. Willingly. Gladly. Happily. Efficiently. Our bottomline is everybody's worries. Pithily speaking, our selling line is our bottomline. Trust us, you have no business being in worry. Stick to your core competencies. Worrying is ours. Just remember, don't worry. It's none of your business. Your business like Agony.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

"I'm a block head. Please give me a list of websites to block." Block Head

Dear Block Head, As the great shoet Leonard Knohen would growl, "Everybody knows how to get to the sites they want to. Everybody knows one more proxy than you can block. Everybody knows the minefields you lay are all crock. Everybody knows the Internet is free. Everybody knows you're way too free. Everybody knows you have nothing better to do. Everybody knows you don't have a fucking clue. Everybody knows you're rubbish. Everybody knows you're squeamish. Everybody knows you're paranoid. Everybody knows you brain is null and void. Everybody knows, everybody knows, everybody knows all the things you never will. So go ahead and block one more site if you bloody will." Still, if your problem is the need for one more site to block. One more chance to to show no one in particular you're an idiotic block jock, help you we will. What to do? We're the Funcle and our job is to put people out of their agony. Even if all they're attempting to do is dish out pure pointless agony. Open your mind and prepare to have it filled. On second thoughts, don't. Close your mind, completely. To block anything, you must get to the one site that attracts all the things you're out to block. And that site is the human mind. Some people call it Google, but we don't think we're there yet. That's a vision of a newman mind we'll reserve for a more dystopian future. Umm, please wake up. No zoning out in this room. We're very sorry. We shan't go to the places you can't, even, comprehend right now. Let's get back to the simpler present. And to the mother of all sites we were talking about. The site which attracts all sites: Your mind. Blocking it is the perfect block to block every site you don't approve of. Without a mind to infest, there will be no site for a site to take up residence in. Unfortunately, once the mind is open, it can only be likened to a bottomless see. A see that is open to seeing everything and everything. A see that we ride, bravely, on a daily basis with our dear, dear surfer friend Bay Botch, the ultimate surfer dude. Bay Botch always tells us, while we're all at see, "Dude, the Internet, much like life, is a bloody beach. No matter what you do, the waves will keep coming. Under such morecumstances, the only thing you can do is keep surfing. If you can't surf with the tide, if you can't ride the waves, don't try to swim in them. You will drown." Wise stuff, eh? To think, it comes from a surfer dude. That's the power of the Internet. Block it. Don't mind it one bit. Or you might end up shocked out of your nonsenses by an open mind. And that's not something a block of head will find easy to deal with or control. Your seefaring Funcle.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

"I want to be black and white. Can I?" Off Colour

Dear Colour, That's an interesting question. It's nice to meet someone who is unbiased and seeks the middle ground. It's a good thing to see the world in shades of gray. Unfortunately, most people see things in a black and white that's not gray. We hope you, too, are not seeking to be the black and white that most people see things in. Wait a minute. By any chance, are you seeking to be a zebra? We think a zebra is a most balanced animal. A trifle showy, but very balanced. We have no issues with people who want to be zebras. Actually, we have no issues with anyone. It's people with issues who have us. Speaking of zebras, when we look down the tubes humanity is heading, we can fully understand why someone might want to make the crossover and be a balanced animal in shades of black and white. Though, we're pretty sure you don't want to be a zebra. We just threw in that thought so you know it's not such a bad option. Anyway, in case you do want to be a zebra, we can hook you up with a switch doctor we know from the Serengeti. His name is Kaka Animal Rights. His speciality is dealing with human wrongs. He deals in the spirits of all the animals humans have so far massacred. He can very easily exchange your inhuman human spirit for that of a humane animal. What you must be careful of, though, is that he has a no-refund policy. So think about it. The option of being an animal that's not part of the rat's race that is humanity might be tempting, but you'll always have ratty humans to contend with. Come to think of it, as a human, too, you have the inhumanity of humanity to contend with. Hmm. Zebra. Not a bad thought. Give it some thought, look left, look right and then cross. That said, we suspect what's really bothering you is the fact that most things look better in black and white. Especially people. In black white, your warts don't show up. In black and white, your flaws look like character. In black and white, all women look like Greta Garbo or Madhubala. In black and white, and with a cigarette dangling from the side of your mouth, any man can so very easily pass of for Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant or Guru Dutt. Sigh. Why? Ah well, we're reminded of a time long gone by when we were fraternising with a photographer who fornicated with us only when she had her shades of gray on. On the days she wore her normal blue lenses, her judgements about the way we looked were rather coloured. We used to wait for the days she'd put on her black lens for the left eye and white lens for her right eye and see things in sensibly moderate shades of gray. Those were the days she'd call us Humphrey and have sex with us like we were Cary and ask us about Guru over a whisky until it turned sour. Those were the days, my friend. We thought they'd never end. But, they did; the minute she realised we were not much more than a coloured Asian from a developing country somewhere in South Asia. And that she was a blue-eyed, blond-haired, pink-lipped, white skinned lass from a Caucasian beyond we couldn't even dream of aspiring for. Her name was Barbie Fucking Whites and she was a figment of everyone's coloured imagination. What we're trying to say dear fellow is that you cannot have the best of both worlds. You cannot be black and white. If you try to be black and white, you'll end up in neverland. And once you end up in neverland, there's no way back. So don't kid yourself. Colour is the only black. And white is the only colour that's right. Of course, there's always Kaka Animal Rights. His bol-free number is FREESPIRIT-800. He's always open. And then closed. It's your call. Your graying Funcle.

Monday, October 02, 2006

"Why does Bollywood make a song and dance of everything?" Bolly Parton

Dear Bolly Parton, We're tempted to deal with your problem with a song and a dance. We think that would make you forget all your problems. Unfortunately, song and dance is not something we're very good at. Come to think of it, we aren't too good at solving problems, either, but that is not your problem. What we will do is turn your problem over to our falter-ego, the very unreliable boresspondent from Bollywood, Psychobabble Pasha. Take it away, Psycho. Tank ooh, Funcle Dada. Oye Bolly! Psycho Pasha hair. How it is? Want to act in fillums? Come down to Bumbai. We will show you lats of things in fillum city. And you can show us your things in your body city too. (Wink, wink.) Please escoose our pronunciation, but we're not very educated. Only very rich. Rich in Bollywood sesperiences of the unreal kind. So what Pasha says is this, singingly, dancingly and very tunelessly. You have praablems? Don't make a song and dance about it. Just song and dance about it. Song and dance is the perfect formula to ensure people do not make a song and dance about their praablems. If someone is making next to nothing a day, show him a song set in Swisserland. It will take him to Swisserland for five minutes and make him forget the years and years of subsistence living he has to live through. It also makes up for the fact that most people in India cannot go to any beautiful place because they can't bilaadi afford to. If somebody has one too many mouths to feed, show him a marriage movie full of songs and excessive consumption of fatty foods by very fat people. It will salve his food praablem and make him forget his starving family. Another thing about Bollywood, it's part of a very wise culture of denial and not saying anythings in a straightforward manner. We're very decent. So we must show everything without showing. Let me esplain. Instead of showing people lovingly fondling bubbles in the privacy of their homes, we believes in showing people squeezing fruity bubble substitutes like oranges, lemons, round vegetables and, even, watermelons in public places. You know what is bubbles? Boobles, big ones on the chests. Yes, that only. Then, instead of doing the perfectly normal things like waking up on a lovely morning and making love, we believes in showing people waking up and being mind-transported off for minutes and minutes of violent and painful rolling over each other down powder snow hills, rocks, in farms, on haystacks and in other exotic and not-so-exotic locations in fillum city. All in the space of a few minutes. Instead of telling someone exactly why they are unhappy or hurt about something, we will explore the pathos of it all in screechy song and preachy melodiraama. Besides, Bollywood movies and peeples tend to be rather long and winded. So song and dance is the perfect time to dash off to catch your pisser. Yes, yes, cutting out song and dance would cancel the need to introduce piss-breaks, but that would piss people off. And that's why it cannot be done. Arre, this praablem of yours will take very long to esplain and salve. I thinks it is best if you sing and dance for a solution. Bester still, you just take a quick course in heaving and vulgaring and come off to Bumbai. We will show you the stuffs and see if you have the stuffs to song and dance and salve your, and India's, praablems. It is the bestest way. Finally. Oye Funcle Dada, she is songing and dancing! Praablem salved. Where is thee bathroom? Your Psychobawla Funcle.