The product of the third nipple


I’m not one for heartfelt feel-good posts. I seek neither to pander nor motivate, to gee-up nor inspire. If you read my post do not expect any of those things. Indeed, expect nothing less than a bitter diatribe or two chased down with a whinge. If you’re lucky (and I have become complacent in my role as embodiment of misanthropy) then I may unintentionally make you feel better because you are not as downright grumpy as me. But know it is a lie, like the supposed ‘fact’ that people still believe Marmite is a ‘like it or love it’ thing. It’s not. It’s just a fucking spread. I am apathetic to the point of inadequacy on the subject. Meh.

The path this blog has taken through the gentle tundra of my irascibility has been a surprising one.

See, that’s what I’m talking about. The line above. What a load of tosh. Why is it that my mind churns out such flange-muffery when asked to write a post? If I can’t rely on my barely conscious mind to adequately post something meaningful and sparkly on request, then what is the point? Why have the thing? Right now my mind is a third nipple – all very impressive but unlikely to write a good post that won’t drive you to sack it all off and light a joss stick.

But I let it splurge precisely because one must vent. Like a cheap and inadequately maintained steam-engine. Precisely like that. And you read it because it exists, even though it’s entire existence is owed to the selfish necessity for a bloody valve. All pointless to the point of blunt. Andย thatย makes you a voyeur, or at the very least a person-that’s-reading-my-post….

Honestly? Nah, I haven’t a clue what the point of this post is, other than to prove I can write one without wanting to and with minimal effort. If you wanted clarity you may have been disappointed.

Saying all that, be nice to everyone, polite and pleasantly engaging in all circumstances, then trust in humanity to hold up its end. That way lies the future. Peace!

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24 Comments

  1. It’s THURSDAY, jdaitken! Time to post. I had a very clever, festive prompt for you yesterday, but I don’t think it posted. *sigh* Hope you had a Happy Halloween, regardless, and didn’t frighten too many children away with your irascibility. ๐Ÿ˜‰ (and if you ever get tired of me prompting/bugging you, just tell me)

    Reply

    1. Well, I think I may have to leave it to another night – I don;t want another pointless post like last time – but if I encounter inspiration I shall set it down, and if not I’ll do it this weekend. Or tomorrow. I’m not big on planning. Happy Halloween indeed. Luckily my curmudgeonly nature is not affected by brats as I live at the end of a cup-de-sac of sorts and I don’t get passing ‘trade (perhaps wrong word there). Anyway I reckon my irascibility is emitted by my mind and has made my home somewhat of a no-go area for pithy calls of ‘trick or treat’. Chalkduskfairy, you are not bugging me – I appreciate your personal touch and thank you effusively. However, if you start camping outside my house I will call the police!

      Reply

      1. Rest assured that if I ever cross a continent AND an ocean to land on your small, damp isle, it will be to visit my great grandmother’s homeland of Scotland and not your doorstep. ๐Ÿ˜‰

  2. Anyway, ‘not bad’ is better than a lot of other things, so glad to hear it. It’s Sunday, the end of the weekend is ‘nigh’. Have you been inspired yet? I can think of several things you could write about, Scots for one…I’m curious.

    Reply

      1. There would certainly be a lot less interest in playing and watching something called ‘hand egg’ , and yet, we have golf. ๐Ÿ˜‰ That originated in Scotland, didn’t it?

      2. As did deep fried mars bars and pizzas. Scotland is responsible for golf and artery-clogging food products. Haggis is the exception. That’s lovely.

      3. You brought a tear to my eye when you mentioned mars bars…they don’t sell them here anymore, which is very sad for me. Nothing quite compares. I look forward to hearing more about haggis.

      4. Ah… unfortunately, there was no recipe for haggis passed down through the generations…it must have been something Great Grandmother McNeil thought better left in Scotland. ๐Ÿ˜‰

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