Strip Maul
What has been porcine cannot be unporcine.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but bacon on a hamburger has been a thing for quite some time, right? Now fast food outlets are running advertising on steroids acting like it’s something utterly new.
Somebody better get this burger a little fedora. I smell a trend.
“Get bacon in your burger” a bulbous clown-head thing boisterously sings on TV.
Why? Is there anything even remotely new about combining hamburgers and bacon? Just how significant is the difference between bacon on a burger and bacon in a burger? On vs. in. That’s the eternal question, isn’t it? If the researchers at a fast food restaurant are to be believed, it’s certainly something to crow about. (Coming soon.)
First they demonstrate a freak of nature they’ve developed in their labs. It’s called “Bork.” Yes, he’s half beef, half pork. He’s a cute little critter that mostly looks like a pig, but has the markings of a cow and even horns. Talk about DNA recombinations and GMO!
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He Tasks Me
I give the orders around here.
This post is dedicated to The Boss whoever it* may be. Ed.
It happened on a work day. (Holy fuck. Is that the scariest opening ever or what?)
It was the arrival of a package that prompted the fun. The boss stopped everything he was doing. Ooh, a package had arrived.
Must. Open. Now.
His fleshy, grubby and unwashed digits picked up the box and it rotated in his massive NFL-style steroid-induced mitts. A piece of gooey food substance jiggled in his beard as he moved.
“Oh look,” he said. “I got something for you.”
Inside? You guessed it. New business cards for my department, the department where he always claimed I was in charge and had autonomy.
The cards were emblazoned with his name. Not mine. And underneath, the business title was printed. “Manager.”
Indeed.
Some time later he indicated with an explosion of gas that he had a “task” for me.
All hail the task!
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Abyss takes on the classics
This is part one in a new ongoing series that takes a fresh look at some literary masterpieces.
Rub-a-dub-dub,
Three men in a tub,
And how do you think they got there?
The butcher, the baker,
The candlestick-maker,
They all jumped out of a rotten potato,
‘Twas enough to make a man stare.
Umm. Okay. I guess we now have scientific proof that The Beatles were not the first to write lyrics while under the influence of LSD, eh?
Three men in a tub??? That sounds like two too many to me! How did they get in there? Who gives a shit!
Take my advice. Never stare at a man in a tub. And what bloody difference do their occupations make? Am I supposed to believe this was a work-related project? No way!
Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.Up Jack got, and home did trot,
As fast as he could caper,
To old Dame Dob, who patched his nob
With vinegar and brown paper.
Where do I start? First of all, who goes up a bloody hill to fetch water? Hell no. You’ll find me at the bottom of the hill where the fetchin’ is a tad easier. I’ll just dip my pail into the creek thank you very much.
Secondly, why does it take two people to fetch one pail of water? I get the feeling there was something else going on here. It definitely sounds like a ruse to me.
The falling and the tumbling? Either this so-called “hill” was far too hazardous or these fools were incompetent. I suspect the latter.
Jack, like a typical man, leaves the woman behind so he can get his own injuries treated. Jill’s character is rather one-dimensional and doesn’t serve much purpose except to emphasize the importance of Jack.
Conclusion
We read stuff like this to our kids? No wonder we’re all messed up! This is 2011, people. We’ve got the technology. I propose we come up with some new nursery rhymes that keep it real and make more sense. Out with the old and in with the new!
Jack woke every single day,
And hauled his ass to work.
Did what he was told or they docked his pay,
He was workin’ for a jerk.…
Jill was rather hot
With the item she had bought
And was returning to the store
The purchase transpired
And the warranty expired
The thing would work no more…
Old Mister Hubbard
Was feeling rather bleak
Found out about his wife’s affair
By following her tweets
Can you write some updated modern-day nursery rhymes of your own?
Shouts from the Abyss 
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