Thursday, October 18, 2018


by riginal (writer), moe australia, April 02, 2015

Burrow into the future? .......................................................................................................................

3D or not 3D? D QUESTION IS DAT. riginal.

As a brain focus freelance journalist sent to Geneva in the late spring of winter 2069 (convoluted nature?), i did so with much trepidation. My quest was to cover the emerging threat of a 3D 'nearly there' brain some scientists were saying had the propensity to surpass head transplantation. A very viable option according to the left. That in itself was an inherent factor. A group of early politicians with need of lefty transplants, volunteered. However, the right head transplant early volunteer pollies protested so loudly there was a temporary head transplant revolt which resulted in a coo from a volunteer early pigeon.

Obviously if you were a short -sighted brainless pigeon losing its head in a headbutting confrontation with a wiper blade on a late model thermicular drone delivering packages you would be cooing after having a transplanted Eagle's head in the straight ahead position. Brilliant Nero surgeon Dr. France E Pants was fiddling, roamin' at the cutting edge,a prerequisite obviously, of head attachment transplantational deviation. Both political parties agreed that the right and left heads of state etc,should not only also have fixed straight ahead vision like that of the experimental cooing happy eagle legal pigeon; but they should be able to have a coup too. Whenever wherever their political flights of fancy took them.

In conversation with Dr. France E Pants before the great head transplant versus 3D brain insert, i gleaned that all was not perfect with the formerly short -sighted pigeon headed, fly by- now eagle eyed- cooing flyer. Sitting in an ice cream parlor with the transplant genius he suddenly teared up, had a quick lick, sniffed. I asked the world's most foremost surgeon as one does, "what is the matter Francy Pants?" "Well Ralph," he sniffled, "the eagle head transplant wasn't as straight forward as the mad media reported. First it leaned to the left,then to the right. Media does that. The pigeon unfortunately had the same propensity of flip flop.You see it had been fitted with a larger heavier head. Therefore i had to cajole the head disturbed pigeon to wear a necktie restraint hidden under its feathers, to enable pige to fly with its head held up high and in the straight ahead position. Plus, the widow of the deceased bald- headed eagle that had died as a result of a skydiving accident when its parachute failed to deploy; demanded more money, plus two dozen experimental flying mice to shut her up because she was out dining with her new head turning companion at the top of Mt Everest, when she saw the unecktified pigeon fly past with its unmodified head buried in its chest! I paid, if word had of got out people and politicians would go off their incumbent heads!"

I said helpfully,"and not only that Doctor F, the media having not changed their sensationalistic diatribe from 2015, would have put out such press releases like, 'Mad Media scoop. Sloppy headed experimental pigeon has flaw! Hit floor heavy headed like a stunned politician unable to get his/her head straight...along with their facts. Pain in the neck histronics"

Dr. FEP licked the bottom of his now tear- dripped cone. Started to wail again. This is where it starts to get strange. I was starting to wish i had of stayed in my suite in Geneva just north of the sand convention. The annual sand eco counting grain expo was on. For the second time. The first time the representatives got a bucketing, sand in their underwear. However, the sands of being unaware i'll tell of at a later date with palm down hands on investigation.Anyway, FEP told me that his son FEP junior,(lick, sob) was a 3D brain specialist who regarded head transplantation as not only highly confusing but downright barbaric in 2069. It was getting late. Knight fell. They usually do when they're lanced with drink. I patted FEP on his cone and told him i was not a sensation seeking journo and i would judge the transplanted heads versus the new 3D brains, fairly, so that the mad media twitter twats could wordedize in their own vernacular as a few of them declined using head writing essay services which can make one doze off into the English ocean of abandoned diction shipwreck.

The next day came. Usually does. In 2060 an explosion of social mediocrity caused a spillover of words. The detonated verbal shortened a year by one month until bygone daze righted itself and 'the next day' returned to the norm. A somber overcast feeling in my everlasting jeans made me shudder. A bell rang. The debate of debates came to a head. We sat silent.

FEP senior took to the podium, clapping ensued. "Friends of the transplanted...i stuck my neck out and so you did for me. I remember my first transplant. An eagle- eyed head on a headless pigeon that had an altercation with a reflection on our politicians. Many of whom begged me to get a head. I believe we should continue transplanting heads whereas my son disagrees. I've said this before, i intend to stand by my heads until each and every head of state that loses his or hers over the course of time can wake in the morn and say with conviction,"let's go a head dear and pop over to senior FEP originator of headless prep. My son's 3D is untested. No one has needlessly lost their head under my guidance. Except when Bruce the janitor had one too many at the 'Horses Head,' handed me one he found in his bed which i transplanted onto a mouse which not only survived a big horse meet, it wiggled its way under the field to lose by a head to an experimental field mouse i fitted a left over rhino's head to. Won by a horn. I rest my horn and will continue my work unabated." The crowd roared.

The moment i saw FEP junior i took an instant dislike to him. He walked up to the podium mounted it with aplomb. A handsome young devil. He carried with him a magician's hat draped with a black silk scarf. The assembled crowd murmured politely,clapped sparingly. He was a cunning one. He ran his free hand freehandedly through his hair. Pulled the hare out of the hat. Sat it on the microphone. "Ladies and general sham politicians. People of commonsense and Ralph. I believe it is time 3D brains replaced full on heads." A snide remark from an ignorant trans head,"with what?" With a flourish the confident young man pulled a 3D brain from under the silk scarf. "My brain does away with brain downtime." he screamed triumphantly. "Are we to dwell in 2015 ?" Sure! mad media is with us forever, but my brain requires not a total removal above the shoulders. The head only needs a micro incision. My 3D brain is a plastic powder inserted deftly into the incision. A glass of resin charged coke tasting drink is drunk. It sets off a brainical inflammatory explosion which forces the old brain out your nose by process of a sudden calculated response sneeze. You are 3D'd overnight. All neurological connections are transferred via instant connectivity and free brain pay- per- view channels with unlimited 'tap in' should you desire the ability to reason beyond the stars, even beyond your wildest thoughts. Old fashioned learning and uni you can throw out the window. Long live dad, but progress dad outlives the staid. Besides, that eagle- headed pigeon is a frayed necktie prop waiting to disband."

The rabbit who had been sitting quietly on the microphone started to clap. The young brain magician smiled, "any questions?" An elderly senator wearing an old fashioned transplant jerked suddenly awake. Bewildered. Stared at the clapping rabbit. "umm...what about the rabbit young man?" The young man picked up the clapping rabbit. "Well sir, if you want the rabbit installed instead of the 3D brain it will cost a little extra and you must get your hare cut regularly otherwise you could end up sprouting some hare- brained decisions." The senator punched his arm slowly in the air to the left and right. Grunted. "now that's my boy! right on...where do i sign?"

Look, i must say, as the only journo at the conference in 2069 i can't really make my mind up. By the time mankind reaches this age some may still have reservations about which way to go but i guess the jury is out at the moment and maybe it's not a good time to split hairs? I mean anyone can rabbit on...but i believe all mediums of mad media will continue to revolve. It only seems like yesterday hyped twisted truth lay unraveled/nestled in a burrow of comforting truth. 3D or not 3D...that is the question? :>)

About the Writer

Bio...bioio...daylight come an i wanna go home. Come missa tele man tele me banana. A banana tele? Seriously would like to hook up with other comedy writers to engage.
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