THOUGHT

Before taking a short break from the relentless task of blog posting, I, Fugger, the people’s blogger, would like to leave you with the following thought:

What if reality is a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation made by people who are part of a simulation who are about to turn their computer off?

Ta ta for now,

Missing you allllllllllllreeeeeaaaaaady,

Mr. Fugger.

THE BIGGEST SHITE EVER IN THE HISTORY OF SHITES

Remember that incontinent old circus bear they used have? Remember its blunted teeth and the way its claws had been pulled out? Remember the dry manky shite stuck to the fur at its rear? It used move around really slowly looking pathetic. It was different on the poster, standing on its hind legs at full height, roaring, snapping free of its manacles. It looked fierce in the artwork but not in real life. They used leave it tied up outside, even in the rain, remember? Remember how we used throw sticks at it and run away when it raised its head to look at us? As if it could do anything. Remember how sad its eyes were?

Crowds used react funny when it entered the ring. They were expecting the monster from the promotional material but what they got was this shambling shadow of an animal. Alberto would taunt the beast and it would open its jaws (as it had been beaten to do) and Alberto would stick his head in its mouth. Remember? We used laugh that he risked being sucked to death. Sometimes the bear got its moves wrong and Alberto would lash seven shades out the thing with his crop. It was difficult viewing. Alberto was vicious. A vicious drunk. There was never much clapping from the audience at the end of the bear act.

Alberto resented the rest of the performers. He used bully them. The women and dwarves got it worst. Alberto liked to make them feel inadequate because they actually had talent and this made him feel inadequate. Alberto knew he was dependent on the bear and he knew the bear was fading. The way he used beat the thing, it was like he wanted it to die quicker and hasten the whole charade to an end. Maybe there was something about the bear that reminded Alberto of himself. I think that was a theory one of the clowns had or maybe it was the pretty acrobat girl that said it.

Anyway, the bear didn't die, did you know that? No, it actually outlived Alberto. Story is, Alberto got really drunk one night and started kicking the thing and asking it to stick up for itself. To do something. He was laughing and saying the bear was a joke, that it could do nothing. He kept spitting swigs of vodka in the bear's eyes and laughing - swigging and spitting and laughing until he finally fell over into an inebriate heap. The other performers just watched, doing nothing to help the bear because they feared Alberto.

Although they didn't help the bear, the other performers didn't help Alberto either when the bear did the one thing it could to avenge itself on its cruel master. Clawless, toothless, arthritic, the bear is said to have lumbered over to the semiconscious Alberto and sat on the man's head. Then the bear took a shite, a huge shite, a massive shite, a really unbelievably colossal shite. A shite that was described by one onlooker as, 'the biggest shite ever in the history of shites'. The bear crapped on Alberto's head and remained squatting there, pinning the struggling man down and causing him to choke to death on bear shite. No one did anything as Alberto's limbs gradually ceased flailing and he left this world. Then there was silence. The bear looked around at the gathering and, for a time, everyone just looked back. Then someone broke the silence and soon enough everyone joined in. I heard it was the biggest applause that bear ever got.

AH, WE WERE ONLY CODDING YOU!

 (pictured above: the planning committee) 

Tomorrow you’ll wake up and eat and leave your building and find the whole world, everyone in the world, standing outside your front door. We’ll all be there, everyone, from all over the globe, rich, poor, famous, infamous, anonymous, all the people who read this blog and all the people who don’t. We’ll all be there and we’ll all be laughing at you. We’ll be laughing and pointing at you because you fell for our trick. The big trick we were all playing on you, yeah you, and you alone.

‘What trick?’ I hear your trembling mind inquire. Well, all of it really, the whole thing. Take money for a start. You don’t think we really use money do you? Jesus no, that was just a trick we were playing on you since you were born. Why would we use money? Look at the problems it causes, all the inequality, the starving people exporting food, all that madness. We were a bit surprised you went along with it actually but what were you to do I suppose. I must say, you did seem to like money at times. Anyway, we don’t use it. We don’t spend money because we are just given things and we don’t earn money because we just do things for each other. It’s a lot less complicated. That money trick got out of hand. I mean the markets, did you really think that was for real? Ha! Not at all.

Nationalism was just something we made up too. Why would people bother with that when you think about it? Patriotism? Good Lord, that would be absurd. What difference would it make where you’re from? Why would you base your identity on that? Why be so tetchy about it? And the violence! It’s nuts. It’d be like everyone with red hair having their own flags and marching about firing guns. Funny though, you seemed to get a bit patriotic yourself at times. You even stood up for that awful tune we decided to pretend was your national anthem. We used some of the worst musical compositions we could find as the anthems. For the laugh, y’know? Pompous dirges. Some of us were worried you’d cop on that the nationalism thing was all bullshit because the tunes were so bad but no, when you heard them you didn’t cop on, you stood up.

You stood up in church too. You stood up and sat down and knelt. Do I even have to tell you that religion was part of the gag? I mean, did you even look at the Pope and all the other crowd in the mad clothes, talking shite? How did you fall for that? I thought that part would be the giveaway myself. We took the idea of religion from a horror novel one of us wrote. He also came up with the idea of empires and wars and so on and we decided to trick you into thinking all that was history or the ‘news’. The news, Ha! The planning committee had some laugh coming up with that shite every day let me tell you.

I hope you’re not pissed off with us though. It was just a joke and you coped with it pretty well. I mean, considering the corner we painted you into and the world we forced you to endure, you didn’t crack up and behaved like quite a decent sort all things considered. I mean, you may not have done much to change things but you didn’t exactly endorse them either and you treated those close to you with decency and respect. Well, most of them. You were a bit of a shit to Chris Darcy while you were in school but besides that you were OK.

Yeah, I’m sorry. The joke went a bit far and we didn’t know how to stop it. It all got out of hand and we feel really bad about it now. I mean, we don’t really do bad things. Don’t get me wrong, the world isn’t perfect. There is still suffering. There is still illness and bereavement and lost love and jealousy and all that. People do disagree and fight and let each other down but we usually muddle through. Nothing ever ends in a war like we pretended. People usually make up and if they don’t well that’s a pity and they just agree to ignore each other but they don’t go killing each other or launching attack drones and all that. Ha! God, the stuff we came up with. What must you have been thinking at times? Anyway look, we’re sorry. We won’t do it again. Relax and have a beer. No, put your money away, it’s free. In fact you can throw that money in the bin. That’s all just pretend shite. You look a bit confused. You look a bit devastated. Sure, don’t worry about it anymore. It was all just joke. You may have got a bit attached to the way things were but it was all just a joke. Trust me, it’s much nicer in real life. You’ll find out tomorrow morning when you leave the house. We’ll all be there, all of us, pointing and laughing and all saying in unison ‘ah, we were only codding you’ and then you’ll see how things really are and how they should have been all along.

THE LION KING WAS RIGHT

Remember when we dispersed our molecules and spread out into the cosmos becoming everything at once and being everything at once? Do you remember that? It was a Wednesday. Our beings fled out to every corner of the Universe - if the Universe had corners which, of course, it doesn’t. We were everything and we were everywhere. We were the tiniest particles and the largest suns. We were matter and antimatter. We were even each other. We felt the great continents stretch and groan as if they were parts of our own bodies. We felt the mighty rolling waves of the sea as if they were the wind moving through our hair. We saw everything from everything’s point of view and we saw everything looking back at us. A drowsy schoolboy exhaled on a bus window and watched the condensation stain and spread upon the glass like nebulae bursting and expanding in deep space. The condensation from the bored child’s breath every bit as important as the birth of a star and we knew this because we witnessed both and we were both and we were the drowsy schoolboy and we were the drowsy schoolboy’s breath and we were the glass the drowsy schoolboy breathed upon and we were the bus seat the drowsy schoolboy sat on and we were the bus the drowsy schoolboy rode on and we were the driver who drove the bus and we were the bus driver’s wife and we were the dinner the bus driver's wife made for the bus driver and we were the shop she bought it in and the factory it was packaged in and the meat in the package and the animal killed for that meat and the abattoir worker that killed the animal and that also turned out to be the drowsy schoolboy’s father. And it moves us all through despair and hope, through faith and love, till we find our place on the path unwinding in the circle of life. Yes, yes, The Lion King was right. The Lion King was right. And wasn’t it The Lion King that you had on the DVD player when we noticed that strange pulsating fungus growing by your skirting board and we took little lumps from it and we sniffed the little lumps and we swallowed the little lumps and we digested the little lumps that dispersed our molecules and spread them out into the cosmos to become everything at once and be everything at once? And they found us two days later. Our faces puce. Our eyes bulging. Our dead tongues lolling. The Lion King menu blaring from the TV. And they bagged us up and they took us away and they buried us in the ground and we were eaten by the bugs and shat into the soil and fertilised the grass. Oh yes, the circle of life, the circle of life. The Lion King was right.

FUGGER PARISH NEWS!

I am interrupting whatever it is normally goes on here to make a few Parish announcements. First off, a comic adaptation of a Fugger post from the recent past has come to be (see image above). The mighty PureDaft deBarra has produced it and you can pick up this 20 page ‘one off’ by either contacting the creator via leaving a comment on her blog or attending the Dublin Zine Fair this Saturday or Sunday. Details at the link below:

DUBLIN ZINE FAIR

In other Fugger Parish news, I, Fugger, the people’s blogger, was asked to contribute to a book filled with delightfully demented creative types. The book is called Gods and Monsters of Tomorrow and is a collection of written word pieces and illustrations that take their inspiration from this film:

However, for this masterpiece of an anthology to get to the printers and from there to your paws we will need your financial contributions. If you give a small amount it’s just like paying for your copy in advance. Considering that I have been giving you free blog posts for three plus years without fail and to the detriment of what remains of my personal life/leaking roof on the church, I think it’s the least you could do.  To fund our efforts please click the link below:

GODS AND MONSTERS OF TOMMOROW

That’s not all, I’ll be asking you to cough up more dough for another publication in the near future but you’ll have to wait for that.

A final piece of Fugger parish news is that Mrs. McFadden has lost her dog again. I wouldn’t mind but the thing passed away three years ago but anyway, if you see it lying around any of her usual haunts let her know. Thanks, now go in peace.

MEMORY

I’ll never forget the time . . .um,  . . .I’ll never forget the time . . .the time that . . .no, sorry, it’s gone. I can’t remember what I was going type. Oh well. I’m sure whatever it was I’ll never forget was very memorable but I’ll be damned if I can recall what it was right now.

Memory really is a funny old thing isn’t it? I mean, half of the time you can’t remember things and the other half of the time you, . . .um, . . .you, . . .no, sorry, I can’t remember what I was going to type about the other half of the time but I bet it’s true whatever it is.

I do remember one thing though. I remember waking up around five a.m. when I was six years of age and looking out my bedroom window. I could see the silhouette of a poplar tree against a streaky porridge beige sky and there was a sound in the air, like a drawn out shrieking. I remember that quite clearly. I wonder what that sound was. I never heard it again. Or maybe I did but I just can’t remember when I did. I doubt it though, if I heard that sound again I would have remembered hearing it again because I never forgot hearing it the first time and . . .oh, hold on, that’s what I was going to type at the start of this post. I was going to type that I’ll never forget the time I woke up around five a.m. when I was six years of age and looked out my bedroom window and saw the silhouette of a poplar tree against a streaky porridge beige sky and heard a sound in the air, like a drawn out shrieking. That’s what I was going type. I remember now. Ha! Well, that’s memory for you.

Memory really is a funny old thing isn’t it? I mean, half of the time you can’t remember things and the other half of the time you, . . .um, . . .you, . . .no, sorry, I can’t remember what I was going to type about the other half of the time but I bet it’s true whatever it is.

FLANNELS

Back to school. Flannels. Grey flannels. Put on your grey flannels. Itchy grey flannels. Grey school flannels. My school was made of flannel. It had flannel walls and flannel doors and a flannel roof. The teachers spoke a load of old flannel and they wore flannel. They were made out of flannel. They had flannel skin. They taught flannel lessons and we sat flannel exams. We failed flannel. We got flannel grinds and re-sat flannel. We studied flannel schoolbooks with grey flannel covers that were all about flannel and were published by Flannels book publishers. ‘I’m going on to study flannel in college’, said Jimmy Flannel whose dad owned the flannel shop (Flannel’s Flannels) where we all bought our back to school grey flannels.

You’d get sick of the flannel. You’d need a break from the flannel. At least we had the flannel holidays. I enjoyed the flannel holidays. The flannel holidays, a time when we gave each other flannel to celebrate the Feast of Saint Flannel, the flannel martyr who was flannelled to death with flannel.

My father invested in flannel. ‘You can always count on flannel’, he’d say. ‘There’ll always be a need for flannel’, he’d proclaim as he sat there in his flannels keeping track of his flannel shares and watching the flannel channel. They broadcasted a documentary about the Large Flannel Collider the other night. It was quite interesting, in a flannelish way.

Personally, I think something went wrong with the world with regards to flannel. I think things became too flanneslistic at some stage. Every aspect of our lives became too flannelised. I reckon it started with global merchant flannelisation and the flannel land enclosures. Jimmy Flannel agrees with me. He has a doctorate in flannel now. He’s writing a book about the sixteenth century Anti-Flannelists. He’s gone very anti-flannel himself. He keeps going on about how flannel is the root of all discontent. He constantly brings up the Flannel Wars. Jimmy’s father doesn’t talk to him since he took against flannel.

It’s hard for people to imagine a world without flannel. We think flannel is essential like water or air but I ask you to try and imagine a flanneless world. A world free of flannel. Flannel free. What would we be without flannel? So many of us define ourselves in purely flannelist terms. Have we forgotten what it is to be flanneless? Has flannel stolen some part of us, forever? When Adam and Eve were cast out from the garden and made ashamed of their nakedness, did they don flannels?  The tragedy of flannel. The curse of flannel. Flannels. Grey flannels. Put on your grey flannels. Itchy grey flannels. Grey school flannels. KLF once burnt a load of flannel. People were disgusted but I got it.