Reply to: Is life today just super awesome?

[suityou01]

So the wife fooks off to London for the weekend. Lots of jokes from her and her friends about me shutting the curtains, keeping the kids indoors and feeding them from just-eat.

Bizarrely our neighbour's wife is away for the weekend as well. So we have two households with dads only. Next doors kids were round early doors. What ya doing?

SY03 wants to go to the park. Good idea. Next doors kids want to come too and go off to ask their dad, who is not known for his participation when their mother is frequently away.

They trudge back round all crestfallen, to tell us that their Dad is busy. SY03 calculates that without SY02, and the spare seat in the boot of the MVP we can accomodate them.

Their Dad agrees, so I end up taking 6 kids to the park, 4 mine.

Great time had by all, mad I bought them all an ice cream. I took some footage, and photos, all on Facebook. Then made shepherds pie for tea.

SY02 calls up tonight to see how I am coping. "Holy tulip, you, I mean you, took 6 kids to the park and then made dinner?"

She knows me at least, so it is a surprise

The absolute main thing is the kids had an awesome time, and I also got to give two of the neighbours kids an awesome time too that they weren't expecting.

It feels awesome.

[Bunk]

All around me, hope has gone. I am among the last of the Southern people, and soon we will be no more. The fading sun is setting in the grey sky, and I know that it will not rise again. I am relieved, this world is not a happy place; it is sad, emotionless and lifeless. True, there is peace, but man needs passion, a cause, something to fight for.

I remember when we had those things; as a young man, when the sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky, the grass was a verdant carpet, the people had life, and passion lit their faces and souls.

I often look up to the hill, bleak and bare against the still sky. If I close my eyes, I can still imagine the Tree, standing tall at the top of the hill, a single Tree with a golden fruit reflecting the sun’s rays to light up the four lands around.

All the lands bore many scars of battle over the Tree. All believed that their claim on the Tree was stronger than that of their neighbours.

The Northern people would show rock carvings, depicting the Tree. “The Tree has been part of our history since the beginning of time,” they would say. “It belongs to us.”

The Eastern people believed that the Tree was the source of life. “We were born of the Tree. The Tree is us, and we are the Tree.”

The Western people had stories of the Tree that had been passed down through the generations. “The stories tell how the Tree belongs to us. It is our Tree.”

My people, the Southern people, didn’t have beliefs, paintings or stories. But the fact that the other nations cherished the Tree made us greedy, and we believed that we should have it too.

The rulers or the four nations held counsel to decide what should be done.
“Our men are dying, and our women are weeping. We cannot continue these wars.”
“We could share the Tree; it is part of all of our lives, in different ways.”
“Our people will not allow the Tree to be shared, its true owner must be decided.”
“We will have a contest – the winner may claim the Tree.”

And so it was decided. Each nation would send her strongest man; the man that could pluck the golden fruit before sunset would win the Tree for his nation.

“I will shake the Tree and the fruit will fall,” said the North’s strongest man. And so he set off up the hill. He threw the rope over the lowest bough, and with all his strength, he shook the Tree. The fruit wobbled and the man shook harder. The fruit did not fall; he shook harder still. The branch broke falling to the ground, hitting him on the head. The sun was setting. He had failed. He retuned to the North, tired and weary, where he was thrown into prison.


The strong man of the East rubbed his hands in delight. The following day, armed with a catapult and a bag of stones, he started his journey up the hill. “I will fire the stones; they will knock the fruit from the Tree,” he said. He tried to aim his catapult, but the sun shining off the golden fruit was blinding him. The first stone hit the fruit, but it did not fall. He aimed the second stone, he could see even less, and the second stone did not hit the fruit. By the time he had fired all his stones, the poor man was sightless. He had failed the task, and set off back to the East, but unable to see, lost his way, and was eaten by wild animals.

The strong man from the west had a simpler plan. “I will climb the Tree and reach out to pluck the fruit.” He set out on his quest, full of confidence that he would bring the fruit home to his people. On arriving at the Tree, he started to climb it, and reached the lower branches. As he got further up the Tree, large thorns appeared and impeded his progress. Just as he was in reach of the fruit, the sun set. He had failed the task. He returned to the west, with his limbs torn and bleeding from the thorns.

And so it was my turn, for I was the man chosen to represent the South. At sunrise, I set off, armed with a sturdy axe, and climbed the hill to the Tree. I was young, headstrong and foolish, and it took just three blows to fell the Tree. Without trouble, I plucked the golden fruit and presented it to my people. “The Tree is ours, I have won the Tree,” I was triumphant in my victory. It was a child, a small girl, who said, “What Tree? Where is the Tree?” I looked at the fruit in my hand. It withered and faded before my eyes. It was unable to survive without the Tree. My people rejoiced, for we had won the contest, the other nations no longer had the Tree.

Celebrations were soon replaced by misery, as colour and life faded from the land. The men had lost their passion, and the women scolded. No more children were born in the land. It is with great sadness that I now remember the Tree; how it meant so little to me, and yet, how, by destroying it, we are left with nothing. And so, as I wait for the dying sun to set for the final time, I hope that I will find forgiveness and peace.

tl;dr

What was that about instant gratification?

[SueEllen]

I will need to outsource. I'll need money. Which means I'll need an army of chuggers. They can probably double up as survey conductors as well. All they will need to do is stand outside libraries asking old men if they've ever had a wank in the library and collecting donations. Of money obviously. Where can I get volunteers?

Outside the local student's union but make sure they are drunk.

[CheeseSlice]

Explain yourself or FOAD oh puppet made of socks.

The avatar isn't socks, its meant to be an ass-hat.. geddit?

[Old Greg]

I will need to outsource. I'll need money. Which means I'll need an army of chuggers. They can probably double up as survey conductors as well. All they will need to do is stand outside libraries asking old men if they've ever had a wank in the library and collecting donations. Of money obviously. Where can I get volunteers?

I'm sure you can involve MF somehow, but I would like to make it quite clear to all that I am not implying (nor should it be inferred) that he would be in the children's section.

[doodab]

Get to it and report back.

I will need to outsource. I'll need money. Which means I'll need an army of chuggers. They can probably double up as survey conductors as well. All they will need to do is stand outside libraries asking old men if they've ever had a wank in the library and collecting donations. Of money obviously. Where can I get volunteers?

[Old Greg]

I will admit I haven't actually tried wanking in the library or conducted a survey of people who wank in libraries in order to provide proper statistics.

Get to it and report back.

[doodab]

Level 3 Sex Offender Arrested for Masturbating at Waltham Library - Police & Fire - Waltham, MA Patch
Student Arrested For Masturbating In Campus Library | Black America Web

There you go, life isn't super awesome in America. Unless you're a normal person using the library in which case it's not so bad.

[mudskipper]

I will admit I haven't actually tried wanking in the library or conducted a survey of people who wank in libraries in order to provide proper statistics.

Level 3 Sex Offender Arrested for Masturbating at Waltham Library - Police & Fire - Waltham, MA Patch
http://blackamericaweb.com/2013/11/2...llege-library/
http://www.dailystar.co.uk/news/late...he-was-SHAVING
http://www.wcvb.com/Police-Firefight...1255466#!BJE17

[doodab]

How many times out of 100 does this actually happen?

I will admit I haven't actually tried wanking in the library or conducted a survey of people who wank in libraries in order to provide proper statistics.

[mudskipper]

I think we should all chip in:

Accompanied Suicide

Charity from an agent?? The world is indeed a better place

[vetran]

Also balloon rides and Ferraris. What are you smoking?
Theory and Practice aren't always the same. The politicians would love you believe everyone has the basic for life but those "on the ground" paint a different picture. I'm not one of them, but I know directly those who do and it's not pretty. We may have very few people literally starving to death, and luckily water ISN'T a problem here, but genuine hunger is definitely real. Brushing it under the carpet as "not as bad as other countries" is not that helpful. Having one of your children murdered isn't as bad as having all of them murdered, but "at least you've got two kids left" isn't a great consolation.

I know people that were like that as well, however instead of going to a civil servant and bribing them or being physically threatened as they would in other countries they are able to pursue their rights safely.

If you know people with genuine hunger then get them down to the CAB or similar (the local vicar is normally pretty good as well) to get help. These people want to help and there are mechanisms to do so.

[DodgyAgent]

All around me, hope has gone. I am among the last of the Southern people, and soon we will be no more. The fading sun is setting in the grey sky, and I know that it will not rise again. I am relieved, this world is not a happy place; it is sad, emotionless and lifeless. True, there is peace, but man needs passion, a cause, something to fight for.

I remember when we had those things; as a young man, when the sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky, the grass was a verdant carpet, the people had life, and passion lit their faces and souls.

I often look up to the hill, bleak and bare against the still sky. If I close my eyes, I can still imagine the Tree, standing tall at the top of the hill, a single Tree with a golden fruit reflecting the sun’s rays to light up the four lands around.

All the lands bore many scars of battle over the Tree. All believed that their claim on the Tree was stronger than that of their neighbours.

The Northern people would show rock carvings, depicting the Tree. “The Tree has been part of our history since the beginning of time,” they would say. “It belongs to us.”

The Eastern people believed that the Tree was the source of life. “We were born of the Tree. The Tree is us, and we are the Tree.”

The Western people had stories of the Tree that had been passed down through the generations. “The stories tell how the Tree belongs to us. It is our Tree.”

My people, the Southern people, didn’t have beliefs, paintings or stories. But the fact that the other nations cherished the Tree made us greedy, and we believed that we should have it too.

The rulers or the four nations held counsel to decide what should be done.
“Our men are dying, and our women are weeping. We cannot continue these wars.”
“We could share the Tree; it is part of all of our lives, in different ways.”
“Our people will not allow the Tree to be shared, its true owner must be decided.”
“We will have a contest – the winner may claim the Tree.”

And so it was decided. Each nation would send her strongest man; the man that could pluck the golden fruit before sunset would win the Tree for his nation.

“I will shake the Tree and the fruit will fall,” said the North’s strongest man. And so he set off up the hill. He threw the rope over the lowest bough, and with all his strength, he shook the Tree. The fruit wobbled and the man shook harder. The fruit did not fall; he shook harder still. The branch broke falling to the ground, hitting him on the head. The sun was setting. He had failed. He retuned to the North, tired and weary, where he was thrown into prison.


The strong man of the East rubbed his hands in delight. The following day, armed with a catapult and a bag of stones, he started his journey up the hill. “I will fire the stones; they will knock the fruit from the Tree,” he said. He tried to aim his catapult, but the sun shining off the golden fruit was blinding him. The first stone hit the fruit, but it did not fall. He aimed the second stone, he could see even less, and the second stone did not hit the fruit. By the time he had fired all his stones, the poor man was sightless. He had failed the task, and set off back to the East, but unable to see, lost his way, and was eaten by wild animals.

The strong man from the west had a simpler plan. “I will climb the Tree and reach out to pluck the fruit.” He set out on his quest, full of confidence that he would bring the fruit home to his people. On arriving at the Tree, he started to climb it, and reached the lower branches. As he got further up the Tree, large thorns appeared and impeded his progress. Just as he was in reach of the fruit, the sun set. He had failed the task. He returned to the west, with his limbs torn and bleeding from the thorns.

And so it was my turn, for I was the man chosen to represent the South. At sunrise, I set off, armed with a sturdy axe, and climbed the hill to the Tree. I was young, headstrong and foolish, and it took just three blows to fell the Tree. Without trouble, I plucked the golden fruit and presented it to my people. “The Tree is ours, I have won the Tree,” I was triumphant in my victory. It was a child, a small girl, who said, “What Tree? Where is the Tree?” I looked at the fruit in my hand. It withered and faded before my eyes. It was unable to survive without the Tree. My people rejoiced, for we had won the contest, the other nations no longer had the Tree.

Celebrations were soon replaced by misery, as colour and life faded from the land. The men had lost their passion, and the women scolded. No more children were born in the land. It is with great sadness that I now remember the Tree; how it meant so little to me, and yet, how, by destroying it, we are left with nothing. And so, as I wait for the dying sun to set for the final time, I hope that I will find forgiveness and peace.

I think we should all chip in:

Accompanied Suicide

[Old Greg]

Using the internet in the library is not "super awesome" though. You'll get arrested if you try and have a wank.

How many times out of 100 does this actually happen?

[doodab]

everything I mentioned was available to 99.9% of people. Including personalised art & furniture via something like ETSY.
Internet is free in libraries. tv is ubiquitous.

Using the internet in the library is not "super awesome" though. You'll get arrested if you try and have a wank.