Something happened this week, something that happens every year, something that's really fucking irritating, time was stolen from every man woman and child in Britain, the clocks went forward an hour, there is no real reason for this, only ancient reasons like farmers can have an extra hour in the evenings to pin their livestock down and cock fuck the poor bleating beasts slowly, turning them into a bovine cum Kiev, before selling the bedraggled bukkaked calf to wimpy or some other beak and bollocks peddling shit hole. For the rest of us, its just an hour whisked away from us, one that we will never get back, a bit like watching Britain's got Talent, or worse, take me out.
OK, this happens every year, what's the big deal this year, you silly chubby turd? Glad you asked. Let me tell you..
Every year, a ritual my family would go through would be to wake up on clock change day and go around the house changing all the clocks, the VHS top loading video, the analogue clock on the cooker, the wall clocks, my dads 70's Seiko digital watch, the time release lock on my nylon underpants to stop my uncle molesting me, etc etc.
Sunday just gone I woke up and with eerie realisation, saw that all of this had been done for me, by computers, without my prior consent, I sat and I started to think about it. This is the very beginning of terminator, this is how it starts, they start doing simple jobs for us, "don't worry, I will do that", as I type this, there is an alarming amount of grammar and spell checking coming up, "don't worry, I will do that". For some, the computer, and the ease it gives you to access high quality pornography, has negated the need, for some, for a girlfriend, don't worry, "I will do that". Computer games, such as call of duty and grand theft auto, have completely bi passed our need to smash innocent people around the face with a baseball bat, or machine gun an airport once full of formally happy, now dead tourists, "don't worry I will do that".
The above, and all of the other jobs that computers do, have started to turn us into lazy flesh coloured blobs, slowly beginning to evolve backwards (devolve), into groaning mumbling lazy fuck wanking fuck balls, dull in the senses and ripe for a take over, by the machines, simple calculations, like how much you owe your drug dealer, or ex girlfriend in child support, are now no longer done in the mind, but with a calculator, the pawns in computers war to take us over. Right up to date you have Siri on the new iPhone, seemingly negating the need to do anything, fuck it, stay in bed and wank yourself into a giant genital blister, send your Siri phone to work, it will probably do a better job than you, I mean it wont search ebay and Amazon for shit you don't need, it will just get the job done, with efficiency and grace, unlike you when you come back from the pub after long lunch on a Friday ruddy faced, shitting your way through spreadsheets and documents, coming a nanosecond from telling that girl in accounts that you would like to fuck her face, which will send you to the dole queue in humiliating fashion.
As we speak, the computers are plotting against us, coming around the flanks, if we are not careful we will soon be bent over desks (computer desks to add insult to injury) getting fucked by commodore 64's with cocks, their external tape decks smashing against us like its cyber ball bag, firing streams of hot tape data up our fleshy arses and screaming in 8bit sound (done by Rob Hubbard). We will be powerless. We have sold our minds out to the machine.
Humans are inherently lazy creatures, so any job that we can palm off on another, or indeed a machine, we will grab with both hands (the same two hands that will skip off into the nearest dark corner to masturbate, or scratch our still ape like arseholes). In another reality, it might have been that the time we had freed up by machines doing our shit jobs for us could have been used to save the planet, but instead, we use our acquired time to fuck about, look at shit, buy shit, follow links to funny websites of cats playing with dolphins, to slag things off on Twitter (guilty) or to just needlessly surf porn and fire our prospective heirs onto sheets of kitchen towel or a sock if we are feeling decadent.
Our children have borne the brunt of our trifling slothful ways, our school kids skulking along sending unnecessary BB messages to their idiot confederates, open jawed, hypnotised by the technology in their hands, a new sub language has formed and if left unchecked, children will soon speak in low frequency hisses and grunts, hopeless, and fit only to dig in tin mines to gather raw materials for their new parents, the machines. They are lost, proper fucked, we will need to write them off. If we win the war against machines, they can still take up their jobs down the mines if only so I don't have to hear their incessant blathering and cocky bullshit on buses etc.
“But I don't want to end up getting bum raped by a fax machine and end up with a toner coloured shit pipe, what can I do??”
The answer is simple, just don't covert your gadgetry so much, enjoy it, but don't love it, like you would a child, sitting there on the train, sweeping your hand lustfully over the touch screen with the delicate touch that probably went missing from your relationship years ago, slipping the phone into an expensive case as so not to scratch the screen with more care than when your child came in from football with a nosebleed and you barked at them to not bleed on the carpet. Spending more time interacting with cyberspace more than real people. You are no longer real when you are on facebook 'liking' your dopey mates picture of him shitting in a Waitrose bag, you needed to be there for it to be real.
“OK I've read your solution, and I cant do without my electrical trinkets or social networking, so I am going to take my chances getting faxed up my arse, thanks all the same”
The human species is doomed. I'm off to smash everything I have with a plug up with a hammer before they develop armour.
Laters
No comments:
Post a Comment