THINGS

You love things don't you? I've seen you, picking things up, looking at them and saying 'ooh, what lovely things'. Hallowed be thy things. You're a thing lover.

You're a thing lover and that suits me fine because I am going to give you things. I am going to give you things you really like and then I am going to threaten to take those things away from you again. That way, you will do whatever I say. 'Please, please, not my things', you'll beg before complying with whatever demand I make of you. You will do whatever I say because that way you will get to keep your things.

And you'll go about the world speaking of your things and comparing your things and belittling those without things and criticising them for wanting your things. And you will die and you will become ghosts and you will wander the earth wailing out to be reunited with your things. ‘Wheeeerrrrre aaaarrrrrreeee mmmmmmyyyyy thhhiiiiiiinnngs?’ And all the while, all during this lifetime and beyond, all during the time you spend thinging, you will never realise that these things were chains and that I put them on you and told you they were gifts. 

I'll never forget how you thanked me.

THE FUGGER INSTITUTE

I have a little black kettle and four large white mugs. How many of the large mugs can the little kettle fill? The answer is all four and the best part of a fifth - if I had a fifth, which I don't. I know all this because I carried out a test. I donned my lab coat and I did the research. I've looked into other things too. Which sells better, a good book or a rubbish book? I gathered the data. I put the data in the Datalizer and the Datalizer shat the results out on my Knowledge Carpet. I examined the pattern on the Knowledge Carpet and the answer is a rubbish book. Rubbish books sell better than good books. The same principle applies to films, music, all art in general, human beings and, somewhat strangely, biscuits. Price difference might account for the latter. I'll have to add that factor to future computations.

These are the kinds of activities that take place at The Fugger Institute. It is here that I and my team search for answers and it is here that we get results. The Fugger Institute is a hub of discovery and invention. It was The Fugger Institute that developed the The Quorak Curve. The Quorak Curve gives an entirely representative representation of entirely representative things. Very useful if you want to represent something or see something represented. We also facilitated Professor Benjamin Wellum in his development of the now famous Wellum's Theorem, a theorem that clearly proves that Wellum had a theorem. Another of my favorites is The Randomizer. By throwing random things together randomly, The Randomizer does random things, producing random results. It's very reliable. In fact, the randomness of The Randomizer is, statistically speaking, the least random thing in the Universe. This indicates that we inhabit a reality that is fundamentally ironic and probably taking the piss. Now, if I can get reality to take this piss on my Knowledge Carpet so I can view the pattern it leaves, I might just discover the key to all of space-time. Wouldn't that be nice?

Amongst our more recent inventions and thought experiments is something we call The Intention Hat. The Intention Hat is an uncomfortable hat that gives everyone who wears it the same intention. That intention being the intention to take the hat off. You may consider these results obvious but to us they are fascinating – fascinatingly obvious. Why are things obvious? That is what we are really looking into here. What is obvious? Why are some things not obvious? How can we make everything obvious so that there is no more confusion in the world? Not so 'obvious' now is it? The Intention Hat inspired us to start work on something we call The Obviousualizer. The Obviousualizer will basically be a pair of goggles and when you look through them the Universe will be stripped of its mystery. A member of staff recently donned a prototype and instantly lost his mind so we've got rough edges to sort out there.

Have I mentioned The Neuroticon yet? The Neuroticon is a large catalogue of neurotic conditions that can be instantly contracted just by reading about them. The man who compiled it mentally disintegrated under the weight of his knowledge. Since he completed the catalogue it has never been opened and is kept locked in a safe that no one knows the combination to. However, intrigued by the contents of The Neuroticon, The Fugger Institute is working on the Neuroticon Codebreaker, software that will provide us with the combination to the safe. Opening the safe will of course be dangerous seeing as The Neuroticon is in there so The Fugger Institute is also working on the Codebreaker Virus that will render the Neuroticon Codebreaker inoperable. Needless to say, The Fugger Institute is in the early stages of developing more software that protects the Neuroticon Codebreaker from the virus.

The thing we are working on that excites me most is Love Money. Love Money is not an object but actually a school of thought that intends to replace all the world's currencies with love. Instead of pieces of paper and coins, our fundamental form of exchange will be to treat others as we ourselves would like to be treated. This will help us understand that love for humanity is not some vague hippyish aspiration but actually an innate and pragmatic force that ensures stability and common well-being. Love Money will also prevent the concept of love from being confused with the incredibly pleasant but ultimately selfish and hideously conditional sexual infatuation that is celebrated in American films and popular music.

Another couple of things that can be found at the institute are The Monkey Chamber, a chamber that The Fugger Institute keeps its monkeys in, and Fuzzy Felt.

These last two items are not so impressive and the latter may have already been invented but what the hell, it's great fun and surely that's what it's all about at the end of the day. But what is fun? Maybe we should look into that. It's an interesting question. Hmmm, are games fun? What if they become too competitive and the participants become upset? Is that fun? If not why do it? Some say it's character building but you'd want to be building a pretty strange character. Speaking of strange characters, Benji Wellum proposed that we investigate how many large white mugs it would take to fill my little black kettle. I pointed out that the result would be almost five as a new experiment would merely be the one I carried out earlier in reverse. However, Wellum asked if the reverse is always the inverse of the forward and when I said I wasn't sure what he meant he turned the kettle upside down and concluded that it couldn't be filled at all. As I watched Benji dementedly pour filled mugs onto an upside down kettle, it occurred to me that maybe some minds inquire too much. Can inquiring burn out your wiring? This question is laced with irony because asking it invites the possible burn out the question warns against. I suppose that's reality again, taking the piss.

****

Hmmm. The human mind. The questions it asks. The lengths it goes to answer them. Then these answers lead to more questions and so on and so on, forever, without end, into the infinite circle and back to where it left off, the very start, the Ouroboros eats its tail because further discovery usually reveals that previous discovery was wrong and so everything must be discovered again. Oh yes, inquiry and discovery, looping, arcing, spiraling in a never ending game. A game someone or something must have invented ...for 'fun'.

'The divine is hidden from the people according to the wisdom of the Lord.'

BILL CULLEN ON DMT

He's finally going to outer space. Outer space and inner space and every other conceivable space. Gob agape. A transcendent smile. A trillion yard stare. Looking beyond everything and seeing all. Eyes shining, bulging, bright and white. Maybe the hint of a tear. He sees into the heart of existence and now he knows EVERYTHING. EeeeVeeeRrrrrrrrYyyyyTHhhhhhhIiiiiiiiNnngg. Oh yes indeed, it's a long way from penny apples you are now Bill.

Running through the meadows of Kildare. A cosmic conglomerate. All is one. What are fences but defences? Defences against oneness, wholeness, indivisibility. Fuck fences. Bill leaps fences. Bollock naked as nature intended. Dogs bark. Birds chirp. The Universe is singing and Bill is part of the tune, dancing from note to note. Immersed in Oceanic Feeling. He's making plans, new and different to any he's made before. He'll fill the Muckross Park Hotel with badgers and squirrels and foxes and rabbits and owls and hares and lobsters, yeah, lobsters. Nature's residents. Eden anew. He'll flood the tennis court at winter and skate upon the ice. He remembers the mixed doubles, him and Jackie versus Gerard and Lisa, tension and concentration, competition, but no more of that. No more winners and losers. One does not have to outdo the other to be the best one can be - one is the other and that's the best both can possibly be. It's a non-zero-sum game and Bill sees that now. Bill sees so much now. Bill sees it all now. The Now! Before and later, all of it together, all of it Now!

Jaysus, he can't wait to tell Jackie about this.

Sunlight plunges through leaves spilling shadows on the earth and the shadows spring and flee and are imbued with mysterious volition. They giggle and squeal and chide, but only playfully. They banish the diminished remains of Bill's ego. Bill isn't in charge here. Bill is being shown the way by entities both apart from him and a part of him. His new board of directors - spirits, elves, pixies, the Sidhe, guiding him on a new venture. He's everywhere and nowhere because everywhere is nowhere. He's all over the place even though there's no place to be all over. It's hard for him to explain. He tries. He really does try. Bill babbles like a brook and water pours out of his mouth from the corners. His tongue tastes funny. He can feel it now, the weight of it in his mouth, moving. He's using it. He's speaking again.

'How bonny are the banks of the Lucinda River.'

...What?

Where did that come from?

Why did he say that? What else has he been saying?

...and where is he now? He's coming into land. He's suddenly back. He's down again. He's slipped from the Elysium of Kildare and slid into a waste in Wicklow. He's sat there in the mildewy lobby of the Muckross. What was he thinking? He couldn't fill the place with creatures even if he wanted to. Bastard receivership. Why had the Universe turned its back on him? He used to be right in the middle of it and now... what had Bill done wrong? He worked hard and dreamed big. Weren't they the rules of the game? Nothing turned out how it was meant to. Nothing turned out how it was meant to be. Nothing turned out how he wanted. That's what he keeps saying, bewildered and staggering, escorted to the exit. Shown the way out and locked out. How did he get here? Jackie's not answering her mobile. Feck. He'll have to walk. He looks up and sees a searing circular sun cruelly branded into a tortured sky. Why does it give no heat? Why is it so cold?

Bill struggles to remember what it was he was thinking when he smoked that stuff. He can't recall. Some nonsense. Some rubbish. Some Wizard of Oz thing. That reminds him... he searches his pockets for the complementaries to Wicked in the O2 but he's got no pockets. Where'd he leave his jacket when he stripped off? Bare and bereft. He lost his mind and he's lost the tickets. Front row and all. He's lost the bloody tickets just like he lost the dealership and the hotel. He's lost the lot. He's lost it all. Well, it won't be staying lost. Oh no. Down but not out. No longer high but looking up. You can't keep a good man down. The boy he was. The man he became and will be again. He is a splendid thing, noble and striding. Oh yes. 'I'm on me way home Jackie!'

Then he's splashed. Mud from the side of a country road. All down his front. A car speeds by. Inconsiderate bastard. Bill peers to get a decent look. Wouldn't you fucking know it, the car's a Renault. He's sick of this country. He's been told of a happier place. Ayahuasca. 'Never heard of it but I'll sink a load of it. Sure why not?' 

Bill Cullen - from penny apples to God knows where.

PINGBACK IN THE AFTERLIFE

Remember when the internet died? Remember that? The day it all went down and never got back up. You lot didn't know what to do with yourselves. You were all addicted to the internet. All of you. (I wasn't, I just liked it so much I used it all the time.) You lot didn't know what to do without your Facebook updates. You couldn't imagine how you'd get by with no one Twittering your hashtags or admiring your selfies.

Some of you started improvising, shouting out your Tweets to passersby. You opened the windows of your homes and roared out things like 'I watched the new Marvel comics movie last night and it sucked!' The nasty anonymous trolls amongst you improvised too, popping out from behind corners, wearing balaclavas and shouting things like 'I'm glad your family died in a fire'. The end of Chatroulette also meant the return of flashers to our public parks. Those guys didn't get many 'likes' I'll tell you that. Likes were now conveyed when somebody passed you on the street and roared something at you and you gave them a thumbs up before rapidly moving on without really engaging. When someone did force others to 'engage' they were usually met with the acronym TLDL (too long, didn't listen) but when someone was brief and to the point, saying something that didn't really have a point because what's the point in that, they got the post-internet version of a retweet - as in they'd roar something and cause a person who heard them to roar out exactly the same thing whilst pointing a finger at the person who roared it in the first place. A couple of long held Facebook traditions were also maintained with people saying they'd attend events they were invited to and then not attending them and people allowing others insight into their private lives in the post-Facebook way of leaving their keys out for others to gain access to their homes and have a look around - once the home had been specifically altered so all the right things were left lying about to make the home owner look tasteful, sophisticated, well-adjusted and all that kind of shit.

Oh, what a superficial bunch of sorry cun... Jesus, I almost typed that out loud?

Anyway, this continued for a while until everyone started to feel a bit silly and strangely empty. Remember that, when you started feeling a bit daft and redundant? Remember how it got to the stage where you lot didn't know what to say to each other or how to act around each other? Problem was that everyone eventually realised there was nothing to share or react to. You had to start instigating and you'd forgotten how to do that without the use of a modem. It was impossible to make things go viral. Al Qaeda and affiliates even stopped beheading infidels. There didn't seem to be a point if they couldn't upload it. People wandered the streets forlorn. It seemed a cold world without all the liking and sharing. The internet was gone and in its place was nothing. Nothing at all. There was just the sound of the wind and that's a scary distant sound that reminds you that the world keeps doing its own thing and you don't matter all that much. I find that notion comforting myself but I suppose that's just me.

So, that's it. Our over reliance on the web made culture tabula rasa. I suppose our generation will die out. We'll exit this life like socially awkward guests leaving a crap party. The future generations will have to create the cultural content of the future anew. I wonder what they'll come up with. I wonder will it just be the same kind of thing all over again. Is all the need for attention in our DNA? Anonymous internet trolling, is there a gene for that? We'll have to wait and see. Not that we'll be around to see it. I don't know though, maybe we'll get some kind of pingback in the afterlife.

MORE NONSENSE

(pictured above – Aonghus wearing earrings Mary made him)

It's just random observations and memories today. I don't feel like drawing them together into some contrived whole. Life is just a series of unrelated sensations and reactions anyway. Narrative cohesion is an ex post facto lie you tell yourself. At least that's what Aonghus McAnally kept saying on Anything Goes when I was a small boy and I've found it to be true ever since.

So, um, here goes I suppose...

I used to own a cat that used a dog I used to own as a horse. I videoed them and tried to upload the footage to Youtube but it was 1989 and the Internet hadn't been invented yet.

Silly of me really. I should have known. I didn't even have a computer.

...anyway...

Did you know that if you crush butterflies into a paste and spread it on a sandwich and eat it you can fly out the window?

Yeah, ...seriously, I swear...

Ah no, that was just a dream you had. Can you remember it? Maybe you haven't had it yet. Maybe you'll have it tonight because you read about it here. Either way, it's your dream.

Speaking of Anything Goes do you remember Mary? She used to show you how to make things out of bird skulls and marla and all that kind of thing. I remember this time she was dressed up as a sexy magician's assistant – heels and fishnets. That was probably the first time in my life I found myself muttering the words 'not bad, not bad at all'. I've probably muttered those words to myself about eight or nine billion times since. Mainly when I'm remembering Mary in the fishnets.

That's a true story that, not that that's really a story.

Hmmm. They probably still have the footage of Mary wearing the gear in the RTE archive somewhere. Someone should really fish it out. They could release it on DVD. I'd buy it or download it illegally at least.

...so, you know, ...that's an idea anyway...

Did I tell that I was recently denied a blood transfusion because I don't use Google+? Yeah, I was. 'Fair enough', I didn't think to myself. You wouldn't have thought that either if it happened to you.

I also hear that CNN is changing its name to Fox News Lite. They say the rebrand will help make it clear that they're not nearly as mad but basically the same. 'Fair enough', I do think to myself there.

Ryan Tubridy was talking angrily into his mobile the other day and I heard him saying the words: 'I've fucking had it with the Scheler Concept of Ressentiment'. That's what he said. Those exact words almost exactly. I think. I'm not sure. I wasn't there. I was somewhere else. But I was speaking to him on his mobile at the time and that's how I know it's true.

Did you know that the Communications and Management Institute Dublin are awarding diplomas in something called Psycholinguistic Subterfuge? Yeah, they are. Apparently there's a lot of employment opportunities in that area. Whatever that area is.

...still, nice to earn an honest wage.

So, tell me, is the kid in the picture above cute or creepy? I can't decide. Cutely creepy? Creepily cute? Who knows? Maybe if we close our eyes she'll go away. Close your eyes then and I will too and we'll open them after a count of three and hopefully she'll be gone. Ready? OK, let's do it. One, two, ...thrrrreeee. Open your eyes!

Fuck, she's still there.

Hold on, you didn't close your eyes. You cheated!

Ah, don't worry. I didn't close my eyes either. I tend not to close my eyes anymore. You never know what'll be there when you reopen them.

So, that's about it for today. I hope you enjoyed it. I'll probably be writing about the future of internet in the next post, now that it's been invented, but that's it for today ...unless, ...did I tell you about Mary in the fishnets?

I did?

Oh yeah, I see it up there near the top of the post.

OK so, you can go but don't forget to come back. If you don't keep visiting Fugger you'll end up spending your time elsewhere and getting indoctrinated into notions that life makes sense, which it doesn't. That's just more nonsense.

So, it's goodbye for now then.

You know I love you very much.

Especially when you're in your magician's assistant gear.

Not bad, not bad at all.

(That post was probably inspired by Bumhand's spamming on the JPRBDF)

ANIMALS DOWN THE SHOPS

Animals, what good are they? They just hang around making noises and doing shits on things. Let's put them to some use. Let's get them spending. Let's get animals down the shops. Let's train animals to buy and get them contributing to the economy. They aren't contributing in their own trivial little ecosystem so it's time to get them involved in the real system. Train them to work and earn and consume. They'll learn to love it. Magpies already like shiny things.

Just think of the business we could drum up: furniture for bird nests, shoes for spiders, wigs for bald eagles, contact lenses for bats, mittens for lobsters, lingerie for dogs. Enough with the feral, let's get financial! Creature consumers consuming creature comforts! I can see the cash flooding into our pockets now!

Let's make animals hate themselves so they'll buy stuff to like themselves more. Let's make birds ashamed of their wings. We'll make birds believe that flying is a lot of exertion and embarrassingly old fashioned. We'll get them to see their wings as ugly twitchy flaps. That way we can sell them airplane tickets and specially designed jackets that hide their foul feathery appendages. Let's make it so ants want to be individuals. We could make hats for ants and they could all get different types so that they feel unique - cowboy hats, bowler hats, baseball caps. They'll probably still behave the same way, all regimented and routined, but they'll perceive themselves to be free spirits and perception is all that matters in this post-reality age.

'Rhinos, reindeer and gnus of the wild, what are those horns and antlers upon your heads but elaborate head warts and cranial verrucas? Worry not, a pricy yet inexpensive procedure will be made available so you can be shorn of your unsightly shame.' 

That's the way we should be talking to beasts. The animal kingdom is an untapped market. The way to get them shopping is to make them ashamed of their fur and beaks and primitive abodes. We'll have them eating out of our hands and filling our bank accounts.

I think it's a great idea and I've been trying to get things up and running for a while now. Ten years ago I had a goldfish and I convinced it that it really should be silver, like other normal fish. I made him really ashamed of his crass and flashy colouring so he set about earning money to buy a form of scale dye I'd developed. He earned his money by doing tricks, allowing Steve-O from Jackass drink him and puke him back out into his bowl, that kind of thing. Sadly the acclaim the fish received went to his head. The combination of adulation and self-loathing made him a very confused little fish. He ended up spending all his money on drugs and passed away in a motel room. That's the danger of excess. What a waste of life. A potential consumer no more. I didn't know what to do with all the bottles of scale dye I was left with but then I had a bright idea and sold the stuff to chameleons. I told them they needed it to get themselves 'noticed'.

Oh yeah, and another time I sold a rasher sandwich to a pig. He didn't really enjoy it but apparently eating it made him feel more 'human'.

TASTY-LICIOUS

(pictured – Try our Cock-A-Doodle-Deep-Fat-Doo)

I'm opening a new chain of restaurants called Tasty-Licious. With a catchy name like that, I reckon it's going to be a big hit. The food won't be very nice (mainly mechanically separated meat stuff with added sweetener and things called 'bovine approximate', 'anabolic emulsifier', 'pulverized extract', 'black rot mix', 'Xanax' and unwanted pets) but the outlets will be bright, cheerful and child friendly and we'll deliver to your door. We'll even have stuff in the shops. The Tasty-Licious range in stores will make it so you can still enjoy a Tasty-Licious treat at home even if you don't have a Tasty-Licious near your home. Mmmm, that's Tasty-Licious. I'm sure some begrudgers will say the food tastes awful but it will also be cheap so that should appeal. I'm not going to waste a load of money on ingredients when there's the whole promotional campaign to be paying for. (Journos don't pepper their lifestyle pieces with references to your product for free you know, LOL!) I reckon if you see the words Tasty-Licious everywhere and constantly hear our jingle – 'Ooh Tasty-Licious, that's Tasty-Licious, mmmm Tasty-Licious, Yeah!' – you'll realise that food is just as much about 'fun' as it is taste and nutrition. I find the whole nutrition thing very Calvinist anyway don't you? The whole 'eat your greens' thing. Booorrrring.

So, Tasty-Licious will be making food fun. We'll have this thing called a Grub Mug that's basically dinner in a big pink plastic mug! And there'll be the Party in a Bucket, which will be a load of food thrown into a huge cardboard bucket type thing for people to share, although most will probably enjoy it alone. Speaking of 'alone', Tasty-Licious will also be introducing Bachelor Chow for unmarried men who are too busy playing GTA to bother preparing anything decent. The ads will feature a debonair Roger Moore type ordering a portion of Bachelor Chow to his 'pad' but we'll also have a parallel campaign, a kind of shaky camera thing with a documentary feel, that will feature lads with drinking problems and depression who can't get access to their kids and all that stuff talking frankly to the camera about how Bachelor Chow 'brings some light to a very dark place'. It'll be great!

I'd say you'll be dropping in yourself will you? I mean there are lots of good places with great food but I bet you'll be drawn to Tasty-Licious. 'Ah, I don't really have time for anything nice, I'll just head for Tasty-Licious and get eating over with', you'll say to yourself. When it comes to fast food there'll be nowhere faster than Tasty-Licious. Try our Tasty-Licious Time Saver, for people on the go. With the Tasty-Licious Time Saver you don't even have to bother sitting down. You just stand there at the counter while a member of staff pushes the food into your open gob. Then you can get back to the telly or work or shouting at employees or doing whatever it is you need to do to love your life. Remember - 'Ooh Tasty-Licious, that's Tasty-Licious, mmmm Tasty-Licious, Yeah!'

See ya soon snack seekers!

LOVELY HOUSES

You kiss and hug and make love beneath the roofs of lovely houses. You laugh and eat and play in the rooms of lovely houses. You kill overseas just to heat your lovely houses and you sometimes kill each other inside your lovely houses. Oh lovely houses, lovely houses and the triumphs and travails of those who live within them. 
 
Kids climb the trees in the gardens of lovely houses and they get under the tables in the kitchens of lovely houses and when they grow up they save money to buy lovely houses and they paint their lovely houses and constantly talk about their lovely houses and buy magazines about other people's lovely houses.

Animals live in kennels and stables and sheds - not lovely houses. Birds use twigs to build tree top nests - not lovely houses. Eskimos live in igloos that melt, unlike lovely houses, and the Cheyenne thought it best to live in tents - not lovely houses. The banks might have to repossess a huge amount of lovely houses and families will have to go and rent a whole new pile of lovely houses.

Did you hear that they were planning to build an estate in Kinnegad called Lovely Houses? Did you hear they premiered a TV soap called Lovely Houses? Did you know that there’s a pornstar from LA named Lovely Houses? Last night I fell asleep and I dreamt of lovely houses. Tsunamis came and swept away streets and streets of lovely houses. Oh lovely houses, lovely houses and the triumphs and travails of those who die within them.