notes from
the MUCK . . .

How does your garden grow? With muck, muck and more muck! I spent much of today finishing the final muck box and then shifting muck from one box to the next. The first box, which the Big Lad is enthusiastically pointing out, has been rotting down for two years now and once we’d removed the top quarter of unrotted material, we found we’d hit the pay dirt.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Best of the Best.

He had that motto on his bedroom wall growing up, it took pride of place amongst his many trophies - no matter how many he won he always looked upon that motto and vowed to do better the next day. In everything he set out to do he demanded that he not only do his best, but that his best be better than anyone else. Almost every time it worked out that way.

He took the motto to college and stuck it on his wall. More trophies and certificates piled up, still the motto took pride of place, worn and tattered by age though it was. His time at college was hampered by his peers trying to get him to engage in activities such as drinking, dating, dancing and drugs; he shunned them all. He did attempt to drink a bottle of whiskey to show he was the best drinker in the college; he did not remember how the evening went but his room mate somberly informed him that he had become convinced that he was both a rat and the pied piper and tried to entice himself out of the college grounds. He had also crapped in his pants.

People were the problem; he read lots of books on how to get what he wanted from them and how to make them believe he was giving them what they wanted, but mostly he just saw them as obstacles to overcome. So lazy. So decadent. Too many different kinds of people, different colours, different accents, different religions, different sexualities; the differences were like a bright light blinding him. They would lounge around the common room watching The Simpsons, South Park and other cartoons - how childish he found them all. He watched an episode of the Simpsons where Bart and Homer are befriended by a gay man; upon realising this Homer asks Bart if the man "infected him with gay". Everybody else but him had laughed. He lay awake in his bed thinking of what he had seen that night.

Graduation had come and his parents watched on with stoic, expectant pride as he received every honour available. He did not waste time in finding a job, and within days he had his first day working for the U.S. Military intelligence department. It was not long before he was given a project to lead; he needed to find an instrument of non lethal force to subdue enemy combatants. He took his work very seriously - as ever, he wanted the result to be the best, and he wanted not just to be judged by his peers, his superiors, the rest of the service, not even the President. He wanted the fruits of his toil to be adored and worshipped by history, and he spent every second trying to ensure that his work would be worthy of such praise. He dreamt of many things during that time, of his childhood, of his motto, of the stars, of his college peers, and Homer Simpson, every night, he dreamt of the words of Homer - "Infect them with gay, infect them with gay".



The day came to unleash his idea. He walked into a room that was full of balding men in uniforms with faces that looked like weather worn moutain ranges. He squinted into the lights and without further ado gave the world...

The Gay Bomb.


He pointed to various technical diagrams of the device, these also included preliminary blueprints and early designs of a similar contraption he had conceived when he was 10 - "The Cootie Bomb". He described with great gusto and vigour how the device would release strong aphrodisiacs among the enemy, making them all extremely attractive to each other, they would then become gay and start fornicating with each other instead of firing missiles at U.S. soldiers. The diagram to accompany this part of the plan included a crude picture of two stick men wearing turbans enaged in what seemed like a sex act, he stood there for several moments, pointing at the image with his pointer, eyes staring fixedly at his audience. He slowly lowered his hand and bowed. A slow smattering of applause fell on to his shoulders which escalated in a torrent of appreciation, and the mountains rose as one to congratulate their new saviour.



The rest of the world shuddered at what was to come from their brightest and the best.


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