potato epaulettes

James Mackelson was a Level 32 Handshake Grandmaster. He knew all the handshakes. The Dealcloser. The Later Guv. The Prithee Esquire. For 50 bucks he would teach you one of them.

James Mackelson would teach you these handshakes because he was on the run from the law. He had substituted Gershwin’s Foreknuckle Bypass into the Neighbour’s Open-palm, and pissed off some of the bigwigs at city hall. A friend had warned him the guild had found out, he made himself scarce.

James Mackelson had gotten by, whoring himself to anyone who needed a quick handshake, but life on the street had taken its toll. He was no longer abreast of the latest in Handshakes. The guild were a conservative group, but as they say, change is inevitable. He would watch, as city businessmen greeted each other, shaking hands in increasingly unfamiliar ways. He tried to sell what he saw on the streets, but it often backfired. Dissatisfied customers would come back, their in-laws-meeting-for-the-first-time soured, because of James Mackelson’s shoddy workmanship, and hit him. They would hit him for ruining their lives.

One violent man kidnapped James Mackelson. He kept him in a dank cellar for weeks, stewing over the money James Mackelson had lost him; the violent man was a low time hustler, trying to convince a brothel owner to hire one of his girls, and cut him in on the action. The deal was good, until it came time to seal.

The violent man didn’t have it in him to kill James Mackelson. But he never wanted him to work again. He found a vice, and he crushed James Mackelson’s hand in it. The hand became gangrenous and eventually fell off. Unable to support himself, James Mackelson soon succumbed to the winter and died a broken man, never making amends for his sorry life.

So you were like 14 or so and thought you were pretty much the best and figured you would apply at the Lindt cafe or similar. You could probably use that to get mad sway with all the high school honeyyyyys, loving hot chocolates like they do. So you put on your best pair of sneakers and some black trousers and a collared black shirt with short sleeves that has the ecko rhino embroidered on the back of it across your shoulder blades in red, and you go up to the dude with your resume in hand and say “hey mate, I’d like a job”

You’re so eager and adolescent that you forget for a moment just how acne riddled you are and that your hair is not becoming of this kind of establishment, so when the guy in charge gently and smilingly says that they’re not really looking for anyone at the moment you feel your heart swell up into your throat and say “oh thanks anyway” and trudge off. You make like it was no big deal to everyone at school and all of you go back there a few weeks later for hot chocolates but it’s not the same, the place feels alien and hostile, it used to be the place you were going to get a job at but now you just feel small whenever you walk past, hurrying so the cuties inside don’t get a good look at you and think of what might have been.

Fed sat hunched over his computer, his phone pressed up to one ear.

“What even, mate. I never dodged an invite I said yes to. Facebook maybes don’t count, Jesus. It’s like shorthand for no but I lack a decent excuse. Nobody should be so upset that anyone missed a weekly beers. Why would you need an RSVP for one anyway? Yes I know this is different and you planned it with catering and like. No I haven’t got a new date after Colin and I broke up.”

Phillipa was being insensitive. Fed and Colin went through a fucking NASTY breakup, like a week ago, but she had been planning this party for longer than that, and they knew it was coming up so why couldn’t they wait on the break up for just 1 more week, til after the party where it was absolutely IM PER A TIVE that she invite a gay couple. No, Colin had to worry that he was in a rut and that the mysteries of solving this rut were hidden in some 17 year old Malaysian kid’s balls, best try and coax them out attached to his semen. They had already gone to KL where Colin was probably getting a faceful of answers. In Colin’s absence, Fed had to wear the brunt of her scorn.

“Just find a date will you honey” said Philippa.

The young gif was excited. It was her first day of work on the internet.

The internet foreman had showed her to her office.
“Here is your office” he said. “Here is your desk, here is a coat rack. You can use these things to help you in your work.”

The young gif said thankyou, and hung her coat up on the coat rack. She was an animated gif, of a cat licking its paw, then falling off the bench the cat was sitting on. The young gif had always dreamed of being a worm going into and out of an apple, who refreshed seamlessly, but she hadn’t gotten good enough grades in school. Her brother had gone to gif university and become a scene from a Wes Anderson movie where a car drives past a restaurant window.

The young gif walked from her office to her web address, where she sat on a small stool, waiting for someone to click on the link to her. They did, and a small light went on. This was the signal that she had to start working. She got into position. She ran. The cat licked its paw, and it fell. The person probably chuckled, then clicked the back button on their browser. The young gif sat down, satisfied with a job well done.

A few minutes later someone else clicked on her link. She ran. The person stayed there this time, and she had to run through a few times. The person eventually left. Almost immediately another person clicked on her link. The young gif was eager for a break, but she knew the work needed to be done!

Someone shared her link on facebook. Then people kept clicking it, and clicking it. The young gif never got to stop running. People loved watching the cat lick its paw, then fall off a bench. The young gif went viral, and had to run for like 6 weeks. For 6 whole weeks there was not a second where someone was not looking at her. Then, her time was over. The young gif wasn’t so young any more. But she had worked hard at the internet factory, and got a good pension. She retired, and lived happily ever after.

THE END

Every time I got into a place I take a long time to stop. Like going to the public toilets I barge through with so much vigour I’m at the second last stall before I even realise where I am and that I desperately need to piss. They say the last stall is for shy urinaters and I don’t want to a) interrupt these poor dudes, and b) be tarred with their brush in the steely eyes of the washroom’s other patrons.

I installed my coat rack near the middle of my house because frankly it was just getting cobwebby in the entrance hall. I tried putting it by the back door but sometimes come in that way so wound up going back and forth getting steadily more confused and the house more muddy. The middle is safest.

This has caused me grief when getting into the ocean as well because the water is so damn resistant that I fall over moving with my customary haste. This isn’t such a problem though because frankly when I’m being in the ocean I want to be as damn was as soon as damn possible, and anyway when you draw out the getting in it’s much more agonising for you and others, the cold of the water inching its way up past all the difficult to get wet depth markers on a human body (bottom of swimwear, genitals, navel, (underside of breast [I ain’t got ‘em to know. Is this a thing, broads/fat dudes?]), nipples, shoulders, face.

If I could have the power to change one thing to make the world a better place it will be the life of a teenager.

Firsts, the life of a teenager is being waste or damage. They are doing lots of different bad things around the world. I will stop teenager from smoking because smoking is not good for peoples, they are damaging their lungs and soon they will be deads, so people need to put a stop to it.

The second thing is, some teenagers are doing drugs which when the police catch them they will be sent to jails for life. And if they be sent to jail they will never enjoy their life any more and they won’t have a job or they won’t travels, they might not even have a wife and children.

Thirds. I would stop people from drinking because lots of teenager are dying because they drink and drive and afters then they speed with car and make accident and damage other people’s property. Many people can die from it. Some people can be sick for the rest of their life.

I would stop teenager from stealing because stealing is a crime and it’s not good to take other people thing that they worked for. It can even cost people to kill themself. People that steal can even kill because if they come to steal and you try to stop them they might kill you to escape.

If I had the power to do those things it might help the world to be a better place.

Reyner Banham Said (via nevver)

(via nevver)

F u

solidgoldcamaro:

Fuck the Lakers.

The puffy faced former beauty reached into her leopard print handbag and pulled out a lanyard with an insurance company’s name written on it. The lanyard held all of the electronic swiping cards she would need to go through doors that day. Her blouse fell off her  shoulder as she stood up to exit the train. This was because of her poor posture. Though to be fair everyone’s posture is bad on a train because you don’t want to literally rub shoulders with everyone.

She got off the train and held her first electronic swiping card to the gate. It beeped and let her through. Her face seemed puffier than before. Her glasses were uncomfortably tight.

“Probably just my gluten allergy playing up” she thought to herself.

She took her glasses off and her face puffed out even more, free from the mock-tortoiseshell plastic. It puffed and it puffed and then she started to float away, lifted up by her puffy head. She looked down on the commuters and considered her former beauty until she floated away forever.