Let the Scrolls be Cast into Oblivion!

Dear Loyal Worshippers of Existence,

Existence is Subtle, Existence is Sublime -- Deception surrounds it like an oozing haze... Is Vaccuum Existent? That is, am I in part Vaccuum? Well, do I look like Vaccuum!? C'mon, Do I?!

Deep breaths.

It is a bittersweet Time (ie Illusion) for Existence: Ancient prophecies have brought Vaccuum into Existence. Ooh, it brings me great pain to admit it... Yes, the Realm of Illogism has been suffused into the Land of Light, contaminating it! We are all aware of these prophecies: in the forefront, the one concerning the man who decides to charge the mob an entrance fee for the vain pleasure of looking inside a Mystery Room. An Empty Mystery Room. A Room crammed full of Vaccuum (+ some air molecules, we may add - but isn't a physicist merely one who estimates a Light Year equal to a Second? And no, we are not talking about a 'Second' Light Year! Idiot!)

Vaccuum: the Perverse joy of non-Existence. Cursed Blasphemy! (Or Non-Cursed Non-Blasphemy, to be exact, albeit the possibility of surplus Confusion).

Behold! The prophecy awakens and incarnates, taking a suspicious spectral form : 'The Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion' now scars the face of this Multiverse. It is a Personal Computer Games Program full of Nothingness, on the Rocks with Vaccuum, Spiced with Emptiness.

Let me explain. ES:O is a game that has received supreme scores in reviews around the Multiverse. It has Obliterated competition in the markets. What is it? It is (is 'supposedly', of course -- a non-Existent entity 'is' not!) a form of Role Play (a subfield of Satanism, as you well recognise) where the soul objective is to do Whatever TM. Ooooh, but it looks Good, you might object. So what? Many a backside will be voted Good-looking, but what is the content thusfar produced by one?

Whatever TM is being advertised as Freedom TM. Freedom TM to do Whatever TM! Hurrah! A new astonishing symbiotic relationship between Freedom TM and Whatever TM? Shall we celebrate? Instead, we shall weep. This is because Freedom TM to do Whatever TM is appauling: it is neither fun, nor interesting. If One should desire to do Whatever TM, (s)he would find it much easier do it in Real Mode, with all the capabilities of the living flesh... The reason we play games and seek Illusions is to rid our minds of boredom... and to seek Inspiration. We like a solid Fairy Tale with a solid Plot and solid Interaction. We let the fun sink in, and sweep over us.

In ES:O, you can do some things, all of which are exceptionally Dull, Stereotypical and heir to Statistics Management Programs. But despite the ability to do Something, you are neither expected nor encouraged to do Anything. No Incentive, and no Reward. All choices are equally good - there are no required Objectives. Please, dear worshipper, would you mind defining 'Pointless' ? I smell the non-Existent stench of the Mystery Room written all over this Scroll. The lifeless voice of the (ever richer) Mystery Salesman echoing from bare wall to wall: "Welcome! Make yourself feel at home! Feel free to entertain yourself -- there's nothing else to do here! Hahahaaa!"

We stumble upon the age-old philosophical question: If there is no incentive to do Something, why should Something be done rather than Nothing? Well, the answer is simple: It Shouldn't. There, I have used proof by authority to enlighten your feeble minds with an answer to this shallowly deep (or deeply shallow) question. One must not feed Existing entities to a non-Existing entity: for goodness sake, don't we have enough starving children in Africa as it is!

Your mission, as Noble citizens of the Existing Multiverse, is to cast the Vaccuum Scrolls into the fiery Depths of O B L I V I O N.

The End(er Scrolls: Victory of Existence over Antimatter).

Drag-on Pain

Dear Loyal Worshippers of Existence,

You may have wondered what I've been up to for the last month. Well haven't we all heard about that Fairy Tale starring the bearded weirdo who fiddled around with his legos for 6 days and decided to get sleep on the seventh? Well in all Honesty, creativity is exhausting, and Time is non-Existent, so no harm done in having a slight break, eh? And the only thing to talk about all month anyway was some idiotic and disturbing cartoon campaign -- and I didn't dare mention that in case I'd unintentionally hurt the feelings of this poor terrorist called Mohammad.

Which naturally brings us to the next theme: Drag-on Pain . Unless you have spent your pathetic life skipping around in a swampy forest dressed up in a self-knit clown outfit, you might not know about the so-called Role Play: a subfield of Satanism. And no, Role Play doesn't bring about the joy of exciting and mouth-watering entertainment such as ritualistic Sacrifices -- instead it is confined to playing around with toys by adults whose mental age is dragging behind their physical age. A few Light Years behind, to be non-exact.

So what is Drag-on Pain, apart from what it obviously sounds like? Well the Idea is that lunatic asylumns from all around the Multiverse will release their inhabitants to skip around a swampy forest dressed up in a self-knit clown outfit. For one week in July, non-stop! Isn't it a cunning coincidence that these weirdos also decided to lay their legos to rest only on the seventh day?

Although it is based on a psychiatric therapy guide by some guy called Mike Pohjola from the North Pole, and most organisers are also from the North Pole, the event will actually take place to the West, in the Fake North Pole. You know, that's the place with a Fake Father Christmas, and Fake Santa's Little Helpers singing Fake Christmas Songs in Fake North Polish.

So basically the mental health institutions of the North Pole are spending millions of euros to sponsor the banishing of Satanists to the dearly hated Fake North Pole, and to build some very elaborate mechanical Lego Drag-ons for the occasion. This instead of helping out the millions of starving children in Africa! Thousands of half-man-hours to build some elaborate over-hyped lego beast! Someone really does need a break - behind locked doors, Ideally...

In the therapy session, all participants must pretend that they are not themselves, but cave men from some earlier Era (comes naturally). This Pretence is Sacred and must not be broken - once you switch from Real Mode to Drag-on Mode, it is final and absolute. So if there is need for a deadly magical beast to burn the opposition, one has to conjure an authentic cell phone from the Neolithic Era and call the acne-faced nerds operating inside the mechanical Drag-on to assist in the fry. If one is in the middle of a Pretence-fight to Death, and faces a sudden Emergency, our brave warrior can but sprint behind a distant bush and clean his backside with some authentic Neolithic grass and twigs. But if one is unlucky enough to be in possession of a Drag-on Mode Character that (by description) never gives up a fight, (s)he is obliged to decorate the self-knit clown outfit with some fine new aromas instead.

There are three character types: Bitches, Cinderellas and Drag-on Timers. Cinderellas are ancient hippies constantly high, Bitches are persecuted beast-people, and Drag-on Timers are just plainly arrogant and uninteresting warmongers.

The Drag-on Pain website is informative indeed: it is specified that sexual intercourse is discouraged in the Drag-on mode, but 'can't be avoided'. Therefore the suggested guideline is to momentarily switch to Real Mode (by the keyword XX) to express consent or rejection, and then switch back to Drag-on Mode to ensure an Authentic Neolithic f**k.

Here is an extract from the script:

Male Cinderella: Oy, fair Bitch, wanteth thee sexual intercourse in the Authentic Neolithic manner?

Bitch: Waiteth. I needeth to snap out of meself, dear persecutor. XX.

Female nerd acting as Bitch: I reject. XX-over.

Male Cinderella: May the Drag-on roast thee, my unwilling bride...

Bitch: Where puteth I all those magical lightning bolts. Must call the Drag-on technical team with an Authentic Neolithic cell phone to bring me an Authentic Neolithic flame thrower.

***

I wonder why no-one has thought of publishing a computer program to serve this Noble therapeutical purpose of Satanistic Role Play. It might save us (and the African children) a great deal of Authentic Neolithic Cash.

The Pure Ad

Bloggers get paid for attaching irritating little flashing banners to their pages. They get Paid for transforming the Web into a network of flashing little spam that jump onto your face and make you reach out for your non-Existent virtual pesticide. Well I am Existence, so I can conjure one to exist at will: A modest fee of $1000 per visitor for entering a blog that does Not show any ads. You can start supporting this Noble cause immediately: Just ask for my Paypal details (Yes, of course Existence has Paypal - how else would he be able to receive ritualistic Sacrifices? Through some bloody altar? Think again.) I will be happy to assist you with your much-appreciated work for the Common Good.

For demonstrative purposes, fear not. Open your eyes and glance at this magnificent Pure(TM) ad:









Isn't it just breath-takingly beautiful? It used to make me a lot of money. The trouble is, that the money is invisible. But that's the price one has to pay for making an invisible ad. Or is it?

Rumours have been circling the Web that a kid made a million dollars by simply stating arrogantly that he needs a million dollars. For college fees. Hmmmm... I wonder where that college is: In Pluto, perhaps? Expensive fuel and so on...

Not only was this an obvious scam, but he actually sold Pixels at 1 dollar each. You know, the smallest visible unit on your screen! And how does this differ from my invisible ad? Well, it doesn't. In fact, many of the pixels in my ad have a special, secret meaning - they're just in black. Tough luck, aye?

Ok, so this moron had an utterly idiotic idea. It was bound to fail - c'mon, telling someone you're ripping them off hardly makes your scam less of a ripoff! It Was an idiotic idea. Unfortunately the PR managers of the companies who gave him a million dollars were trained at a facility featuring men wearing white coats. So now we have a moron awarded with a million dollars for a selfish publicity/money-hunt. We also have reports stating that pixel advertising didn't pay off after all. Doh! I wonder how much money was spent in researching that tautology.

Instead of idolising the Selfish Capitalist Hauling of Money, about a million people starving around the Multiverse could have been saved for an entire day. Just think about that! Now that this Jackass has wasted his Poor idea on his own arrogant belly, nobody will be scammed again. That is, no food for Africans tomorrow, either. Thanks a lot for this atrocity, poophead.

Crisis on the Horizon

BBC, the Banal Bastards Corporation, has released the following piece of filth on their website:
Reader discretion advised

How dare they talk about this tragic business as if it were a mere nuisance! Notice the quotation marks in the title 'confirm'. They clearly have absolutely no idea what they are talking about.

How can we stay oblivious to this crisis that is slowly engulfing the entire (un)civilised Multiverse!

One aspect has been completely forgotten from the Bird Flew - phenomenon. That is, the Birds - all those poor creatures, who have been unjustly sentenced to unnecessary death. Have the birds intentionally set out to harm us? No. Have they calmly accepted that their purpose in life is to end up in our spit-gaping jaws? Yes. And now we are vile enough to take away their only Meaning of Life, (27), simple to satisfy our purely selfish considerations.

What is more, Iraq is a country of vicious barbarian terrorists, who resist Freedom at all costs. Our American soulmates set out to a Noble mission: to Free these primitives from their Unnatural, Life-destroying ways. To protect Existence itself. And now the Existence of these helpless Birds is ruthlessly undermined. We can but ask ourselves: Are the lives of these birds less valuable than those of the Barbarians?

Birds have given Man a great deal. Without Birds, there would be no spectacular films like 'One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest', 'Duck Spoof' or 'To Cull a Mocking Bird'. Let's face it, without Birds, no-one would even have thought of inventing an airplane! How would you escape H5N1 to the North Pole without an airplane? Everyone knows ships can't sail through ice... doh.

I reach out to all you Morally Righteous Souls: Save the Birds! Do all that you must. Be brave and May the Farce be With You...

(If you are unsure of how you can contribute, just dress yourself into a Chicken suit, trod along streets and Scream as hard as you can cackle: 'Medical care for the H5N1-infected Birds!!!' This should get your voice noticed. Difficult times call for drastic measures.)

Presidential Erections

Tonight, 3.5 million citizens from the North Pole, also known as Finn-land, glued their blue eyes to the TV to witness how poll results realised themselves as The Official Result. For 3 hours, they watched a Red Haired Lesbian Conan-lookalike and An Ugly Cold Businessman battle for ultimate Symbolic leadership of the North Pole. Big Egos, Empty Words and Pointless Campaigns to Lure Polar Bears to tap dance in Igloos for TV ads. If you don't believe it, just ask a Finn about Myths concerning the Ultra-Right-Wing Working Class.

For 3 hours, the result was Clear, and for 3 hours they all assured that it was too early to draw conclusions. The winners said the erection was a Symbol of Universal Adoration towards Democracy. The losers said they actually won: Apparently people just don't know how to look at things the Right way round. Others say Left is Right. Right?

The only charisma Finns can produce is Ski Hop: men push feet against sliding sticks, before falling helplessly to the ground. Winners have the happy facial expressions resemblant of participants in the national Lemon Sucking competition. The joy, the passion!

The Meaning of Life

Before one begins to justify the creation of yet another addition to the vast army of utterly useless blogs, there are more important questions to answer.

Most importantly, of course, we need to ask: 'What is the meaning of Life?'

Namely, is it 42? Now what on Earth is that supposed to mean? I am probably not alone in my opinion that 42 as an answer to the deepest question in the Multiverse is deeply unsatisfying. Not just unsatisfying, it is plain ridiculous! A phrase drooled mindlessly upon by fans of a childish fairy tale with aliens and ... more aliens. Seriously!

The meaning of Life, then, is naturally 27. That's right, 27. My date of birth. Because this is the date upon which Existence itself was created. It is not debatable - to argue something else would be irrational, since you can't prove that something existed before Existence existed.

You disagree? Your mama's photo album has pictures of events that occured long before my birth? Nonsense. My imagination put them there - it was I who created all of those events before I had even thought of them. I am Existence.