Spreading The News

My dog shit on the floor today, so I went to hit him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper, but then I realized I don’t have a newspaper because everyone gets their news from the internet these days.

 
So I smacked the dog with the internet, and he gave me those sad puppy eyes, forcing me to have a second look at the shit, and I realized it wasn’t shit after all, but one of his rope chew toys that he left laying there.

 
I felt bad about it, but couldn’t admit I was wrong because he’s a dog and dogs are stupid. They’ll believe anything, so I hit him with the internet again and told him it was his shit.
He refused to give in, so I hit him again and again, giving him everything the internet had, until finally, the dog believed me. Now he’s running around the neighborhood telling all the other dogs that their chew toys are shit, and it’s spreading like wildfire.

 
Because, like people, dogs are stupid. They’ll accept anything as long as their masters keep repeating the same lies. After a while, they eventually believe it, and once they believe it, they can keep getting hit over and over again, beaten down until they themselves are just obedient little piles of shit laying on the floor.

 
This is important, everybody, so the only question we have left is…

 
Anyone want to help me spread the news?

Where Did We Go Wrong?

The mind-set of children has changed since I was a kid. Chilly, rainy days like this used to depress my friends and I. We wanted to be outside so we could play ball and build tree forts. We didn’t fear ticks, excessive sun, mosquitos or anything.

 

Outside was the place to be.

 
Last night, I overheard a group of young girls talking about how excited they were that it was going to rain all day today. They wouldn’t need to go outside for any reason at all. They could stay inside all day and do nothing.

 

I am saddened, yet, intrigued. What the hell is happening to us as a species?

Celestial Fingers

What are genetics but a severely advanced form of artificial intelligence?

 
The brain is the computer, the nerves are the wiring, and the synapses are junction boxes, where information is dispersed, causing movement and speech.

 
Our words are an evolved form of bloops and bleeps, meant to spread information from one machine to another.

 
We are the future and our thoughts aren’t real.

 
Though this is really happening, we can sleep easy tonight, because we aren’t the ones screwing our neighbors over. We are just the tools who can’t feel the celestial fingers upon our keyboards.

 

The Art of Listening

Throughout most of my school years, I was told I wasn’t very intelligent. I saw things differently, expressed my unique views, and after a while I got tired of hearing about how dumb I was, so I chose to keep my mouth shut instead.

 
In high school, I was expelled because one of my teachers called me stupid. It must’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back because I flipped out, grabbed her purse, threw it out the window then kicked a trashcan across the room.

 
I was sent to reform school where I could be safely kept away from all of the intelligent kids, and while there, a teacher kept spending plenty of time with me – way more than he needed to. Also, in reform school you are assigned counselors. ┬áMy counselor also spent an abnormal amount of time with me.

 
After a while of talking with me and hearing the things I had to say, the teacher determined I was too smart to be there. I think it was the first sincere compliment I had heard in my entire life. And to make matters better, my counselor not only agreed with him, but took it a step further and told me she thought I was brilliant.

 
My world changed once I heard this, I began to believe in myself and talk more often. These wonderful adults worked with me and helped me get scholarships to a college program I was dying to get into.

 
Here I was, a kid who came from nothing, who was told would always be nothing, and all of a sudden I was in possession of a wonderful dream.

 
Being different doesn’t mean you are stupid. It just means you are able to see life in a unique way – sometimes a better way, and you don’t need to be told how to think or what to believe in.

 
All it takes is for one person to see your brilliance and to foster it for the gift that it is. So speak up, because eventually, the right person will listen.

 
Now, as the adult, I choose to be that person to all the kids in my life. The person who knows how to listen and to find value in all the awkward and quiet people.

Look Up

Why don’t more people look up into the sky and ask questions, or at the very least admire the beauty of it all, take it all in and allow the impact of the moment to level them? Instead, I notice people overwhelming themselves with the pointless blather of everyday life.

 
Yes yes, I know the love of your life hurt you, and that so and so said this and that, and that bitch down the hall wore that dress better than you, but as we speak, huge SUV sized chunks of ice and debri are flying around Saturn at speeds that are 15 times that of a shotgun blast.

 
While you debate whether or not to slap your boss in the face tomorrow, 13 billion year old suns are in the pulsar state, millions of them, right now, rotating at lunatic speeds, awaiting the day they will explode at devastating levels, dwarfing all of our nuclear power combined.

 
While you read this, you are probably completely unaware that you are being watched, and that if you weren’t so concerned with what you are going to have with your steak and potatoes, you might know who or what it is that is observing you.

 
None of this information is undiscovered or lost. It’s all been right there under our noses for generations. But no one talks about it, and no one reminds us that it is there, because we are too easily preoccupied by things that have zero substance.

The Perils of Writing Without Ink

Began a short story today, but my stupid pen wouldn’t release any ink.

 
Luckily I don’t let such silly things prevent me from pouring my soul upon the page.

 
Ink or no ink, I kept on writing, and wouldn’t you know it, over halfway through my story the pen starts behaving.

 
Let me tell you, the ending to my tale is absolute genius, I just wish I knew how it started.