Yeah, he’s too fat and needs the exercise!
Tag Archive: fun
I’m not going to say sorry for my last post, but there were some factors which attributed to my writing it: I was cold, wet and hungry and depressed because nothing works out the way I want it to or even remotely close. On top of that I had just been robbed and beaten up again by a Rumanian in León. I shall try and get to London U.K. to find work there. Keep your fingers crossed!
Now for just a little fun:
I have a friend, well… actually more of an a-miss-um, as in: if he’s there you wish you could miss ‘um, but if he’s not you actually do!
She´s having fun again!
- The naughty nature of my early years was exhausting, but well worth the effort!
- My formative years were largely a waste of time. I’m trying to forget them!
- Rules and regulations: the obstruction of the natural flow of life, to the enjoyment of none, for the benefit of the few!
- Law: that necessary stuff to keep the poor in check!
- Hypocrisy: that unstoppable urge to tell others not to imitate oneself.
- Righteousness: that blissful certainty that others are always in the wrong.
- Doubt: that happy time before you take the wrong decision.
- Envy: when you have a good thing, but wish that others should have nothing!
- Irony: that glorious satisfaction you get, when a good plan comes together.
- Hope: happy memories of the future.
- Sarcasm: another way of saying “I told you so!”
- Idleness: should be well planned out and preferably witnessed by others, who are extremely busy!
- Diplomacy: that blablah before an inevitable brawl!
- Chess: an intellectual’s attempt at machismo.
- A nincompoop: anyone who thinks their doodoohs are funny.
- Advice: to want to deny others the pleasure of making their own mistakes!
- I did not say it – You can quote me on that!
Okay So I want to make a collection of Limerick, spoonerised and just funny poetry. Exactly like Pheasant Pluckers Wife. Or man from Nantuckit. Got any? Share them please (with credits)!
So I was told to put in explanations of limericks and spoonerisms first so people get the jist of things...
A limerick is a five-line poem in anapestic or amphibrachic meter with a strict rhyme scheme (aabba), which intends to be witty or humorous, and is sometimes obscene with humorous intent.
This was sent to me by a friend of mine. It’s cute to try the demo and should you wish, you can get a 15 day free trial to create your own automated messages with virtual characters to enhance your site!
<Click here!> to use the demo, where you choose the language, the character(male or female), the duration, pitch, length of the message and so on…
Note that the character follows your cursor with his/her eyes!
SitePal is an easy-to-use service that allows you to create a speaking avatar for your website and empower your online communication.
- “best session in the last five years…” (mauisurfreport.blogspot.com)
- Hello World! (curvymrembo.wordpress.com)
- Automated Cash Formula – is it useless? (boldstate.com)
- appzero to Demonstrate New zapp Application Migration Automation (sys-con.com)
- Automate Your Marketing: 5 Most Effective Automated Marketing Tasks for More Clients and Greater Sales (womenentrepreneursecrets.blogspot.de)
Here I go again, the voices in my bucket need to be down loaded!
90 degrees and dudes are wearing hoodies and baggy jeans: Are they that committed to fashion, or are they up to something?
If we can put a remote control vehicle on Mars, why can't somebody invent a roll of toilet paper that is easy to start? All tha scratchin' and tearin' pisses me off!
I’m a bit of an anti-socialite. I would personally rather start a collection of bird droppings than read all about what some rich bimbo is up to. Apparently every fart emitted by this wonder of the social media is examined closely by the farterazzi, to ascertain whether it might not contain gold-dust.
But being an SEO-minded blogger, I decided to jump briefly on the bandwagon and take the quickest possible glance at who the fugg this girl is. I found out that at the tender mental age of two and a half, she has already been married more times than Elisabeth Taylor, which takes some doing!
Now, she’s running for mayor of some place somewhere and I’m sure she’ll run the place at least as efficiently as the Terminator does California. Since Arnie became Governor there, hardly any attacks by alien monsters have been reported!
Anyways, you’ll be titillated to hear that she’s got a new boyfriend, but he must not be very good, because she’s rather ride camels. Each to his or her own, I suppose!? Although it all just slides down the bulge of my indifference.
Having endured countless prank calls and rampant thefts of street signs for years, a small Austrian hamlet with an unfortunate name is reportedly fighting with another over a new identity.
The town of F--king, Austria, is home to roughly 100 people. Fully aware of why it has long been the butt of many jokes — with English-speaking tourists having been known to photograph themselves having sex near street signs — its residents recently voted to try to change its name to Fugging, British tabloid The Daily Mirror reported.
Toddler Tim had been promised a yummy piece of cake, which would be waiting for him on the window sill, until “after” he’d finished all his dinner, veggies included. Toddler Tim found this unnecessarily cruel for his Mum to make him suffer a river of drool, all the while that she was preparing dinner, but he was a big boy about it, for the prize was worth it!
He was a bit worried about the ordeal of having to munch his weary way through all his veggies, but when he saw that they were mushy peas, mixed in with the mashed taters and gravy, he happily set to. At the end of his ordeal, he set down his spoon with a mighty sigh and looked up inquiringly at his Mum, who nodded a “yes”.
The toddler-who-was-tired-no-more sprinted to the kitchen only to find the window sill empty! He let out an outraged howl of discontent, which brought his mother running. Some poo-for-beans had run off with his prize, the culpit had to be found at all costs and would have to be punished to the full extent of his and their parent’s rot! You will notice that Timmy is trying bravely to be high-brow about it…
He examined the scene of the crime closely: window only open a mere crack, pooch still outside on the porch and no kitties in evidence. They’d been buggered! He exclaimed: “Mum, it must have been a cat-bugger! I’m going to find him, you see if I don’t!” He drew up his diapers and stomped outside. He took his little drum from the porch and started banging it like only a very agitated little toddler can, to summon the neighbouring kids.
The first to show up was Sandra, his special friend from next door. After she had asked what all the drumming was about, Tim exclaimed in a grave tone of voice: “Cake-napping in progress, keep your nappies on!” When all the usual gang was assembled, he asked if any strange kids that acted ‘spiciously had been seen? When they all replied with a no, he shouted that this was even worse than he had thought, for this meant that one of them could be the culpit.
He said that he was very sorry, but that he had to insist on a full nappy-check, inside and out, of everyone that was there. His Mummy would do the necessary. Tim’s mum, who by now had a heck of a time trying to keep from laughing out loud and actually had tears running down her cheeks, played along. The toddler patted her arm and said: “Don’t cry, Mum, we’ll find him!” No chocolaty leftover signs were discovered anywhere and Tim the toddler was getting redder with the minute, which was not a good sign, because everybody knew that he could throw a mean temper-pamper!
At this precise moment, who would show up but Uncle Pete, carrying Tim’s piece of cake. He remarked shyly: “Tim, I thought this chocolate cake could do with some whipped cream.” and handed it to the now shame-faced child. He apologised very much to all his friends, but then turned round to his uncle and said: “Uncle Pete, thank you ever so much, but next time could you tell someone that you’re going to do something like this, cos you almost gave me a hat-attack!” And then he delved in and even shared some with his special friend Sandra… So you see, finding the culpit had been a piece of cake after all!
I plead guilty, ladies and gentlemen, it’s not that I’m terminally stupid, but certain things are and always will be beyond me…
For example, try as I may, I will NEVER understand women! I’ve talked with them at length, I’ve lived with some and I’ve slept with some, but I do not comprehend certain peculiarities that they persist in. For example, if I see my girlfriend with a dishevelled hairdo, tears running down her cheeks and sobbing her cotton socks off, I tend to think that maybe something might be wrong with her. But upon inquiry, I steadfastly get a negative answer and when I want to leave it at that, she gets upset! For why?
But these are trifling matters. I will also never fathom why some people drink tea instead of coffee? Or that yucky Pepsi instead of Coca-Cola? And sacrilege of sacrileges, why some people drink decaffeinated coffee? Or alcohol-free beer? The ludicrous insensibility of it! You see , I was thinking of an example to compare to about how silly this is and my mind is a blank, which proves once and for all that I am for all intents and purposes: an idiot!
The same goes for when I’m in an argument, my mind goes: “——————————————–” or if you will “zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”. But the moment that my adversary leaves, this blasted space between my ears starts spouting the most brilliant retorts known to man(slight exaggeration perhaps!), when it’s too friggin’ late! Once I actually ran after the bugger, but the second I caught up with him, my cerebrum went into stupid-mode again. At times I feel like tearing all my hair out by the roots, for frustration.
And another thing: those books for dummies are too difficult! My ineptness is too great for me to understand them. I have stupid questions, which these people have never thought of! I have invented ways of fouling up, messing up and fucking things up that may well be extra-terrestrial! Perhaps I am indeed a Master of Stupidity! Stupid, stupider, stupidest, Ralphie.
Anyways, upon reading certain blogs here on WordPress, I have spied with my little eye, things that made me remark: “I could have done that! I’m definitely silly enough to think or try that!” and so on. In short, I have spied a kindredness of stupidity that has touched my heart, in many bloggers(blonde or otherwise!) on this platform. It is for this reason that I invite all of you who think that you also fit into this category to join this club and share some delicious anecdotes with your fellow-dimwits.
I’ve been thinking about whales again. They do fascinate me and especially the way they sing and communicate with one another. These titanic mammals can not be but highly intelligent. What if their songs were composed of sequences of statements about their general health and well-being?
Let us assume for a second that the first sequence of every song is a statement about their physical well-being and specifically, if they are in pain at all. This message could be rendered as one chord, composed of three musical notes.
The first note of the chord would give us, on a scale on one to four. a gradation of physical well-being ranging from (e.g.) the musical note “mi” which would stand for neutral, “fa” which would stand for moderate, “sol” which would stand for good and “la” which would stand for excellent. All the other whales over all the world’s oceans would a) know the sequence and b) what any note on the scale stood for!
This state of well-being could have a positive or a negative effect or both and could also be graded. For example, I have a sore shoulder that troubles me somewhat during the night, but at the same time has given me the resolve to exercise more to work the kinks out of it. Which gives me the chord “do, fa, do”(see table further down). I have given a list of twelve categories that we are all concerned with.
To recap, you would get twelve chords(the most important information on your overall well-being), each chord comprised of three notes denoting a gradation of the state of one aspect of our well-being and a gradation both for the positive and/or negative effects that this brought with it).
In this way we coud give a musical(probably cacophonous) message to our family and friends, which would convey our overall state of well-beingness at a glance(or hearing). If somebody has a synthesizer or the appropriate software, they could program this, thus creating our very own whale songs. And the answers to the questions(categories) could be made to look rather spiffy, using led-like graphs(in appearance).
I made this table in Excel but it didn’t import well, sadly.
|Category||Fysical state:||Fysical state:||Fysical state:||Mental state:||Mental state:||Mental state:|
|Positive effect experienced||More than full||mi|
|Positive effect experienced||full||re|
|Positive effect experienced||moderate||do||do|
|Positive effect experienced||little or no||si||si|
|Level of well-being is||excellent||la|
|Level of well-being is||good||sol|
|Level of well-being is||moderate||fa||fa|
|Level of well-being is||neutral||mi||mi|
|Negative effect experienced||little or no||re|
|Negative effect experienced||moderate||do||do|
|Negative effect experienced||full||si||si|
|Negative effect experienced||more than full||la|
|Positive effect experienced||More than full||mi|
|Positive effect experienced||full||re|
|Positive effect experienced||moderate||do|
|Positive effect experienced||little or no||si|
|Level of well-being is||excellent||la|
|Level of well-being is||good||sol|
|Level of well-being is||moderate||fa|
|Level of well-being is||neutral||mi|
|Negative effect experienced||little or no||re|
|Negative effect experienced||moderate||do|
|Negative effect experienced||full||si|
|Negative effect experienced||more than full||la|
I have always been a fan of the well-crafted insult - the one that is diplomatic to the point of seeming (almost) benign, yet delivering a well-aimed zinger with remarkable aplomb. Many a great author has come up with good, stinging rebukes that make you wince and laugh at the same time, but no auther is more of a master at this technique than William Shakespeare.
Does anybody want to nominate anyone? Except for Ralphie, of course, who is the obvious choice!
YEAAAHHHH!!! This is one of the most brilliant comedy series ever!
Digital channel GOLD has ordered a brand new series of hit 1980s satirical sitcom Yes, Prime Minister.
This is a news flash from the British Comedy Guide!
Yes, Prime Minister, the hit 1980s political sitcom, is to return to television with a brand new series after a break of more than 24 years.
Digital channel GOLD, formerly dedicated to classic comedy repeats but now branching out into its own original programming (as reported last month), has ordered a brand new series of the smash-hit comedy series from original writers Sir Antony Jay and Jonathan Lynn, to be produced by BBC Productions.
The new six part series is to be based on and follows the success of a 2010 stage revival of the popular comedy. A West End production played to sell-out houses for a number of months before touring the country, and then returning to the West End. It is currently back on tour.
The popular satire originally starred Paul Eddington as well meaning politician Jim Hacker, Nigel Hawthorne as Permanent Secretary Humphrey Appleby, and Derek Fowlds as Bernard Woolley, Hacker’s Principal Private Secretary.
Eddington died of cancer in 1995, whilst Hawthorne suffered a fatal heart attack on Boxing Day 2001. Fowlds was most recently seen on screen in ITV drama Heartbeat.
To read the whole article >Click here!>
I was out hunting trolls with my bow and arrows. This is the only hunting sport that I indulge in. Or should I say, this is the only species that I can hit with me weapon of choice. You all know that trolls are about as big as a barn and as my eyesight not being what it used to be…
There I was, letting fly of my broom-sized arrow, when the famous Easter Bunny jumped up right in between and I’m afraid it took a fatal hit. I sincerely apologise for the demise of this Easter Icon, but I swear it was an accident! Anyways, I never really understood why a bunny should go around distributing eggs in the first place! Surely this is an activity, which is much more suited to an animal that does not hop up and down all the time, thus turning the children’s presents into scrambled eggs.
I put an ad in the paper for a replacement and boy, do I have a surprise for you all! I am extremely proud to present to you, for the first time ever…. the Spotted Easter Warthog!
Now, be reasonable, ladies and gentlemen, does this not make a lot more sense than a hopping bunny? It is universally known that pigs are great are uncovering truffles. Therefore, if this one should bring you one of these by mistake, you could sell them for a thousand quid a kilo! While every holiday is being commercialised to the hilt, I thought I would contribute my thousand bucks worth.
All that remains is to think of some suitable attire for our Hog. All suggestions are welcome! I do not have Photoshop at my disposal, so for those of you that have, please enjoy yourselves dressing this one up to your heart’s content! Let us know what you come up with. Toodeloo from a remorseful Ralphie.
Fresh from my shower, I stand in front of the mirror complaining to my husband that my breasts are too small.. Instead of characteristically telling me it's not so, he uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion.
If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between them for a few seconds.'
Hahah! I’ll bet that not a lot amongst you know the meaning of this word “flussig”. And that is because it is actually German and means “liquid”, in this case applied to pecuniary matters. It should also be more or less the same word in Gaelic or so Dermott assures me. We have had to deal with some hectic days around here, to the point where the last couple of days we were reduced to drinking tap water and eating a crust of bread and nothing to go with it.
Today however, some recalcitrant debtor finally paid up and we were able to go shopping for the bare necessities. We were happy like children in a toy shop, just because we could afford to buy some eggs, milk and the like. And let us not forget coffee!
Can you imagine, ladies and gentlemen, that Ralphie had to go three whole days without this heavenly beverage! That is like having a virgin lose faith in the sanctity of her chastity! Or like denying a politician his publicity! It could even be compared to forcing a lawyer to speak the truth for a change. In short, it was a tad difficult. It is hard for me to imagine something harder than the atrocious abstinence that I had to go through, although there is one thing.
I was once extremely foolish in trying to give up smoking. This was about ten years ago. I managed to go 11 hours, 34 minutes and 17 seconds without a smoke! I can not tell you the duration to the millisecond for the sole reason that my watch did not have this option. I let go of my colleague’s necktie, after having asked him to provide me with a cigarette, precisely on the 17th second. He also told me afterwards, that this was the precise moment that a certain mad glint left my eyes. It can not have been a pretty sight, let me tell you!
But now all our worries are over, for a while at least. Ralphie is as happy as a piglet in a warm soothing mud bath. I have my mug of coffee on my left-hand side(cake included!), the obligatory fag is dangling from my lips and the internet has been paid up, so as I can go on regaling you with my zany nonsense for another month at least. Hurray for zaniness, hurray for Ralphie and HURRAY for coffee!!!!
You just have to love the power of crowdsourcing. All of us are definitely more pissed and frustrated than just one of us - or just me - in spite of the high levels of rantium (Element number 115) I have in my system. I've got some awesome feedback from the Rants Army regarding those people out there who are
Come on, people! What the frikkin’ heck am I busting my goolies for over here? Do you all think that I do this for fun or what?(Actually I do, but I’m trying to keep it a secret, Shhhttt!) So come on call up your relatives and friends and tell them to visit ralphiesportal.me and they get a complementary cyber hug from lil Ralphie! Tell ‘em to give us lots of “likes” and comment on everything. Skit! Get to it!!!!
We were driving through the countryside, when I noticed some ruins that looked splendid in their worn-outness. I remarked to myself how difficult it is for me to render this faithfully on canvas, as I am not very good at painting or drawing architecture. Thus it came to be that I was pondering the rules of perspective and it was then that a horrific realisation dawned on poor Ralphie…
People and all things essentially get smaller the further they get away from old Ralphie, until they disappear altogether! Is this not horrible? Whole countries have been known to disappear from the face of Ralphie’s universe, for example when I was on a plane looking out. Galileo Galilei must have been wrong all along: the earth is flat after all!!!
Imagine all those people, who never did anybody any wrong, falling off the planet and floating around in deep space, for what reason, I ask you? I sincerely hope that I am not to blame for their misfortune!
Just the other day my friend Dermott told me he was going on a little trip and he pointed into the distance and said: “Over there!” I asked him, with a trembling lip: “Do you mean where the little people live?” I was quite apprehensive by this time! I entreated him to stay within eyesight of ole Ralphie, for I have lost enough friends already in this lifetime and he laughed at me, the scoundrel! There I wax filled with concern for his well-being and safety and he laughs in my face…
A couple of days passed and I was mourning my lost friend, when I rounded a corner and who should I bump into but my dear friend Dermott. I thought I was seeing things and asked him with tears in my eyes if it was really him or if I was being delusional. He told me that he was my born-again friend Dermott and this reassured me no end. Although he had a big grin on his face. I sometimes suspect him of pulling my leg!
Now wait a minute, you lot, would you mind explaining in no uncertain terms where you all disappear to when old Ralphie goes to sleep! Hunhh, hunhh!!! Come on, fess up! I’ll bet you all get up to no end of mischief, when I’m not there to keep an eye on youse! Dermott reassures me yet again that you all go to sleep aswell, but I still have my doubts… I shall be forced to install camera surveillance in the four directions of the wind to see if he spoke the truth! There is no fooling lil ole me!!!
10°C/50°F Tenants in Helsinki turn off the central heating, the Finns start planting flowers.
7°C/44°F Also planting vines.
5°C/41°F The Finns are sunbathing, while the sun still gets over the horizon.
2°C/36°F Italian cars won’t start.
0°C/32°F Pure water freezes.
-1°C/30°F Your breath becomes visible, time to start planning the vacation to the Mediterranean. The Finns are eating icecream and drinking cold beer.
-4°C/24°F The cat tries crawling under your bedsheets.
-10°C/14°F Time to start planning a vacation to Africa. The Finns go for a swim in the lake.
-12°C/10°F Too cold for snowing.
-15°C/5°F American cars won’t start.
-18°C/0°F Homeowners in Helsinki switch on the central heating.
-20°C/-4°F Your breath starts to sizzle in the air.
-22°C/-8°F French cars won’t start. Too cold for proper iceskating.
-23°C/-10°F Politicians start pitying the homeless.
-24°C/-11°F German cars won’t start.
-26°C/-15°F Your breath can now be cut directly into building blocks for an igloo.
-29°C/-20°F The cat tries crawling under your pyjamas.
-30°C/-22°F No proper car will start. The Finn swears, kicks the tire and drives off in his Lada.
-31°C/-24°F Too cold for kissing as the lips will freeze together. The Finnish national scoccer team enters the spring training season.
-35°C/-31°F Time to start planning a vacation in the hot tub. The Finns are shoveling the snow off their roofs.
-39°C/-38°F Too cold for thinking. Mercury freezes. The Finns button up the collar of their shirts.
-40°C/-40°F The car tries crawling under your bedsheets. The Finns are thinking about putting on a pullover.
-44°C/-47°F Your finnish co-worker ponders on closing the window.
-50°C/-58°F The sea lions evacuate Greenland. The Finns switch from gloves to mittens.
-64°C/-83°F Time to start planning a vacation on Venus. The Finns are going sleding.
-70°C/-94°F The ice bears are evacuating the north pole. At the university of Rovaniemi, the traditional annual cross country tournament is being held.
-75°C/-103°F Santa Claus is evacuating the north pole, leaving frozen, dead elves in his trail. The Finns fold down the rim of their bonnets.
-80°C/-112°F The sea lions try crawling under your bedsheets. Your cat is acting a little tense.
-90°C/-130°F Santa Claus attempts to join the sea lions.
-111°C/-168°F French cars won’t burn properly anymore.
-120°C/-184°F Alcohol freezes. As a result, the Finns are now acting a little tense, too.
-270°C/-454°F Hell freezes over.
-272,2°C/-457,96°F Helium can be solidified under pressure.
-273,15°C/-459,7°F Absolute zero. Absolute absence of molecular movement. The Finns reluctantly admit that, “Yes, it might be a bit chilly. Now, would you please be so kind and pass me another slice of vodka?”
Reblogged from RickieChikie on Experience Project: <Clcik here!>
Forget those worrisome background checks, giving up of Facebook passwords, and less than stellar resumes. Who wants to sit in all those boring classes learning marketable skills?
(Besides you've always know you're special - too special to start at the bottom)
Smarties use what's already available.
Use Craigslist, maybe like Jose Gustavo Diaz-Velasquez?
Life in the Brownsville area of South Texas is difficult.
I do NOT think this is funny!!!!
Bear with me, Ladies and Gentlemen, for I think I just figured out the meaning of the universe and everything, and some rather surprising revelations have come to light. Oh, and by the way, you are all stark, raving bonkers!
I have been thinking how a positive shape(e..g. a square) is just as easily defined by the negative space that surrounds it, in relation to the whole.
For example, if you take a big square(A) and divide it into nine smaller squares, named 1 to 9, the 1 is just as easily defined by the whole square(A) minus one, which gives you 2 to 9. Are you all still with me so far? The fun will start in a little while!
I took it a step further when I asked myself, whether in the whole universe of infinite possibilities, this would not also apply to an event or even a person, which I myself, Ralphie. I poured this into an equation, but first I must explain the symbols.
I use 8 as the symbol for infinity, because I don’t know how else to type it and I use A for the All, or the whole universe. Combined they form A8 or the whole universe of infinite possibilities. U stands for YOU or in this case me, Ralphie(again). One more paragraph and the merriment begins!
Following the earlier example of the square, I claim that Ralphie can be defined as the whole universe of infinite possibilities minus himself. Again using the negative space, time or possibilities to define one part of the whole. This gives us the following equation:
U(Ralphie) = A8 – U(Ralphie)
This is where the fun starts! If I apply basic arithmetic to this formula, I can prove beyond a shadow of any doubt that the All is equal to two Ralphies!
A8 = 2U(Ralphies)
I will now take a moment to revel in my omnipotence and omnipresence, but not for too long, for my intrinsic humility forces me to admit that the whole universe is just as equal to two Sheilas. Or for that matter also to two Toms, two Dicks or two Harries, which proves the duality of Ralphie’s universe.
Remember, for the future and for the record, that you read it first on Ralphiesportal that the entire universe of infinite possibilities is equal to two Dicks!
While I’m on a roll here, I would like to point out that in the whole universe of infinite possibilities even the impossible exists and it would be completely senseless to try to force silly things such as logic or sense upon said universe. We can now state unequivocally that the whole universe is a load of complete and utter bollocks(or two dicks, as seen earlier!)
Furthermore, it must be said that in the aforementioned universe it is complete plausible that Ralphie is the only sane one there. This makes total sense to me and proves at the same time that the rest of you are completely bonkers! I have always had a sneaky suspicion about youse lot…
At this stage I should really apologise to my learned colleague Mister Stephen Hawkins for having caused him to eat my dust all this while, as I am so WAY ahead of him. Sorry Steve, but shit happens!
After reading all of this, you must admit that Ralphie has enriched the universe significantly. Up to now sadly, Ralphie has been a poor sod, but the time has come for the pendulum to swing the other way and for Ralphie to receive all the riches that he so richly deserves(Nudge, wink, hint!) Should you all neglect what now amounts to your sacred duty, then this universe of infinite possibilities will be short one possibility and will surely fall asunder. Only you can avert Apocalypse by donating all your spare money to Ralphiesportal.me! Be warned. . .
I Ralphie, being of sound mind(as proven earlier) now admonish all the combined news agencies of the world NOT to come camp on my doorstep, for the simple reason that it ain’t BIG enough! I shall therefore grant an exclusive interview to Time magazine, for the trifling sum of one million dollars. This is one further attempt at stopping the collapse of the universe as we know it.
Now what was Ralphie’s Paradox? Simply that it is incomprehensible that one so obtuse as old Ralphie should have to teach the whole world the value of being zany!
All that remains is for me to express the fervent wish that I never run into my double, for then the universe will truly go barmy!!!
Methinks that the Fates have played a cruel joke on poor little Ralphie. These divine ladies are responsible for weaving the design of every human’s destiny. However, I find that what could have been the beautiful tapestry of my destiny has turned out to be a travesty. Am I correct in saying that a tapestry should be made up of threads? I am seriously starting to doubt the existence or said threads, because what passes for them in the design of my Kismet was probably a Monday job, where they used just a couple of hairs from some mangy, decrepid sheep that had a terminal case of scurvy. What these three spinning ladies have created for me has been used by all and sundry as a doormat or a dishcloth, if not worse…
Why oh why was I born so obtuse? There is a saying somewhere that even a donkey only trips over the same rock twice. But ole ‘Ralphie has kicked this proverbial rock so many times already as to have developed a club foot. When it comes to putting my foot in it, I have an uncurable case of foot-in-mouth disease (to quote my good friend Gogol from Scotland). It’s gone so far that my feet have been made illegal and are refused entry in several European countries. This is of course the reason why I have emigrated to Africa, where my appendages have as yet gone unnoticed, possibly because the majority of folks around here haven’t got a clue what I’m on about(abstain from comments, please!)
All this not-so-dainty footwork comes from the fact that I am so very easily confused. I’ll give you an example. We drove passed a soccer field, where some lads were having a friendly game of football. The next bit is where the confusion starts! I remarked to myself that these were the first gentlemen of a certain variety that I have seen here. But first I should say that I read a lot of American blogs and that I watch a lot of American TV. I know for a fact that this particular variety of gentlemen are called African Americans in the USA. I’m sure you see my dilemma, because everyone who is born on this continent is an African. However, I am referring to the African-American lookalikes, that is to say of the non-Mediterranean kind and also non-Caucasian. Are my feet still in the no danger zone? I am starting to sweat a little for fear of being considered politically incorrect! I shall try a different tack!
So, us honkies are called Caucasians, hey? I always thought this was a mountain range! Not to worry though, I have been called a lot worse, but I would like to state for the record that I am in no way so obese as to be referred to as a mountain range. A molehill would be much more appropriate, were it not that moles are of the wrong persuasion, colour-wise. ‘Feet, stay on the ground! This is proving to be a very frustrating article. It is so difficult to avoid using certain terms, when talking about certain aspects of a particular(lovely) group of people.But I am feeling a bit reckless and I will dive in at the deep end now with an anecdote about a viking friend of mine, the late Rauli, may he rest in peace.
This blond, blood-thirsty friend told me that his step dad in Finland is African(of the above-mentioned variety). Does this not sound a trifle incongruous to you? That’s a bit like having an Eskimo ask you, in the middle of the Sahara desert, if you saw a polar bear pass by. And there’s more! We wouldn’t want to label this kind of bear white, for fear of putting our foot in it yet again.
There are many, many more things that confuse me no end. How on Earth is a body supposed to know who’s who these days, when men are growing tits and women are growing beards( on their faces, that is!) I seem to be exhibiting symptoms of foot-in-mouth disease again. I should really watch what I say, because I may easily acquire a case of foot-in-arse aswell, with someone’s boot up my behind, that is. I blame my father for this congenital defect. although I’ll have to ask him, who exactly conned him with whose genitals!!??