WHERE WOULD SOCIETY BE IF...RIGINAL.
I was thinking again after I purchased a jaffle iron. Don't know if that's what they call them in America.
Basically it's two ubiquitous plastic halves that clamp together two pieces of bread. Only when I clamped it down after breaking a egg in it which dripped all over the sides and on my bare feet I managed to get turned on and applied current which in turn cooked the egg like a sort of waffle toasted. Unlike my raw waffle or the similar uncooked variety extruded from a pollie's dripping verbatim but I won't get into politics this time round because most politicians manage to avoid same. Come to think about it which I was, why can't they apply current to the eggheads that waffle on in power? Like nothing extreme. Just a quick zap with an oversize pollie waffle. Polly waffle doodle all the day? Obviously you wouldn't clamp them in, or nail them down. That would be cruel. Elastic heat-proof straps would do the trick. Two heat settings. THEIR Truth and THE truth. As they squirm under the current pressure as most inanimate objects do, the elastic strap ons would allow the simmering P to expand and contract his/her comments with a retractable cord. I believe when scrambled and the truth squeezed out we would have a much better understanding of what makes a pollie tick...or rid them of same.
I did notice a absolute plethora of George Foreman cookers of all description in the shop til you drop...a heavy Foreman dropped on my head after I bent down to pick up Jaffle. The little kid pounding the top shelf dislodged and smacked me over the head with a George Foreman cheap shot. Why do parents let their kids destroy shops? I know you're going to scream,"let them alone they know not what they do" Fair enough but personally I believe parents shouldn't be allowed in shops until they're grown ups. The lady was very nice she said, "are you alright?" I replied,"I'm fine...could you untangle George Foreman from my neck as I believe he's just trying to lean on me trying to get his breath back after being tossed off the shelf by the kid trying to get a plug in...my ear.
He wasn't a bad kid. Just a little bloody bad nuisance. But I was like that yesterday. You know I believe Foreman, by George, has made more money being fat- free-shedding meat of same- than when he was sweating his in the ring. I love the guy. A great example of a boxer with his head screwed on right and a gentleman to bite...sorry... to boot. How many boxers have fought that sort of longevity without retiring a mess? Physically and financially. It was almost a pleasure being hit by George in the head...Fore man is not a man unless he has been hit in the ring...but I exited before the kid could pull the $8000 wide scream tele onto mine. Do you know I believe George has probably made more money out of 'cook' than he's made in the ring and deservedly so.
Do you know I just realized that if generated power, light, etc, plus George Foreman type grillers were invented by the cave man how much easier would things be now? So much more advanced. Serious. One could have made a fortune back in those days as a laser hair remover. If any of you people out there in the states have invented a time machine then it's time you fired it up and got back to the future by availing yourself of the advantageous sell sell sell cave to cave stuff we take for granted. Look! Even if you have a used one that has been through the Great Depression and back, as long as it will take me back to America when Davey Crochet and his tightly- knit men opened America up and fought bears and people were civil and kind and...shit! maybe it won't regress that far?
Imagine you're a salesperson flogging a Dyson vac cleaner. You walk up to the cave door and press the buzzer on the steel door the cave man stole from the ironmonger living in the aluminium shack next door. A hairy huge person ugly as answers the door which has a sign on it 'this dump sucks,' the post it is screwed to actually IS stuck in a Brontosorearse dump.
"What you want?" "Could I speak to the lady of the cave?" "That's me!"
"Sorry madam to intrude on your dump but I have a cleaner that will suck the shit out of the biggest dump."
The cave lady says "I already got one." She yells out and a bleary- eyed little scrawny husband staggers out with the remote to the black and white tele and a "how to vote for Nixon" card in his hand.
"But madam my cleaner is dust- free no bull."
Lady cave snarls. "Yeah...my cleaner was bulldust free when we was first hitched. Just a lazy sod now. He sucks."
"This cleaner madam can be screwed and emptied with one hand..."
"So can..." Anyway I must go, my jaffle is waffling on. Have a great future...don't dwell in the past unless you have a time machine. And ladies don't let your kiddies run riot in a store. Specially running by George. I know I know...I hear yews "don't be such a grump. You'll be young one day when you reverse into a time machine!"