Thursday, 29 December 2016

When the Person Gets the Blessings of God Because of their name










A guy was called Paul Norbury, but, in the USA, everyone was used to call him Norbury. Some said Dr. Norbury. Others said Norbury. 






Someday a woman from South America who was suffering extraordinary crimes, true atrocities, for one decade and a half heard, as she was passing by the reception desk, this after once more trying Norbury for help:


- So, what is her problem?
- True atrocities, several years, poor thing. 
(Her fellow was typing as she spoke to her) Nobody wants to help. 
- It is a good thing that Norbury will help her then. May God bless him!





Sunday, 25 December 2016

Jolile Wanted to Be His Friend...






It was one more of those social gatherings in ancient style at this really small place called Rio Grande. All dressed in ancient style, with walking sticks that they didn't actually need when they were men, and tops that go under other tops with the objective of constraining obesity to bearable levels when they were women; things that took them hours to put in place. 




In the background, sounds that today are called funeral sounds. An ancient style maid goes around offering liquor. 




Glasses that cover only one eye and hang from chains of gold are seen everywhere in the living room. 




A dog of style, of those whose bodies make waves, so elegant, of really long legs and spine, is resting in a relaxed way under the chair of this really fat man, who is perhaps a relative of the KFC Colonel. People are so polite that their conversation sounds like murmur. 




All of a sudden, a noise, a very loud noise. Everyone seems to lightly direct their eyes to where the KFC man is. He quickly responds to their interest: Jolile (the dog), get out of there, Jolile, and go for a walk. 




Jolile is not his dog, and therefore remains under his chair.




Some good ten minutes pass and the Colonel gets the attention of all once more, all that thing of lightly turning eyes, and the response comes in a flash this time: Oh, oh, Jolile, please go for a walk. I don't understand why you are still there. Once more, Jolile was not his dog, so that Jolile looks at him, understands, but does not comply. 




Good thirty minutes pass and here comes the scene again, all the same, but, this time, before the KFC man releases the token that is directed to Jolile, her owner intervenes: Jolile, get out of there immediately before this man releases his excrement over you! 




(This time she moved and ran away)








Saturday, 22 October 2016

Knock Knock








A man asked me: Marcia, how can I know if I am dealing with a female prostitute or not? 
I answered: You knock at her head. If you hear an echo, then you are. 



Saturday, 15 October 2016

Politeness in Academia








In Academia, it is advisable that everyone be as polite as possible, so that the latest was the sigmatoid organic starting to become a new pejorative. As we know, all that is organic is supposed to come from natural elements, and therefore, if traditional agriculture methods are considered, literally from excrement. 




One academic turned to the other and said: So, what do you think of that journal?


The other: I thought it was a bit organic. You?


The first: Agree.


And that paper: It was more to the side of the clean energy, don't you think?


The first: Agree.


The other: How do you feel today?


The first: Also a bit organic and on the verge of producing more organic matter, actually in all senses. Excuse-me. 











Invited








The oppressed, and that would basically be me in the last fourteen plus years, getting racketed on the head again in order to again not be on top and not have access to the top, says to the oppressor:

They are always inviting me to play. Shame that I am always the ball: Oh, how it was big, their racket! 




Kaboom, and there goes the oppressed again (racket on the head, down from one step away from heavens). 

People on earth hear that striking sound, something similar to the end of earth, and they then see a mix of tears, blood, and smell. 

So, what was that? An airplane, an insect? No, it was the super-oppressed again, racketed on the head, all again. Kaboom!










Tuesday, 11 October 2016

Eternal Love







The future victim turned to the psychopath and said: How much do you love me?
He answered: Forever and ever. 



The future victim of the CIA bug turned to the psychopath and said: Do you really love me?
He answered: Inside out. To the point of becoming your flesh and bones. 



FV to psychopath: Do you promise you will never leave me?
He answered: I promise!
FV: What if I do something wrong?
He answered: Never, not even if you say that is what you want. Do not worry, swear. 



FV: Will you be with me after I die?
He answered: I always do that.



FV: Do you think you have my heart?
He answered: Not yet, but I am working on that.



FV: Oh, we look so good in bed together! I wish we could be preserved forever like this.
He answered: I tried this before, but you will decompose.



He asked: How much do you love me?
FV: Until death tear us apart.
He said: Oh, that is good. I would hate thinking that I left you alone when you still loved me.








Thursday, 29 September 2016

Who Opened the Cage?









It is like someone invested in modifying an animal and making it look like a human being: For the first time in life, they have contact with peanut butter, chocolate, eggs, milk, bread, etc. The ex-animal is confused and really doesn't know how to use the ingredients. Finally, he opens a book, since he just learned how to read, and, in it, he sees: French Toast. 





Friday, 5 August 2016

Daddy Always Can






So, my father, The General, took me to the ice skating rink for the first time. We both dressed the special skates and went to the rectangle. I was extremely reticent and in full fear. My father looked at me as if he did not know me. 




He took that position of it is all routine and went, so that I am realistically watching a man who is more than twice my age going around with confidence whilst I support myself on the rail with all my forces. I am like not even two meters when my father is completing his first round trip, like his first full ellipsis over the ice. I am thinking that this is going to be traumatizing for me, since I am not really going to be able to evolve much from what I am currently doing. That is when I hear the thunder: I look and my dad is belly up, completely flat on the ice, body all open to the sky, as if he were in a cross, and with legs wide open. It was such a noise that I could swear the place was exploding. I could not yell or anything because he was looking exactly the same, like same expression on the face, and all. 




My daddy was a tough man: That rink he could take sip by sip, basically. 




I am perplexed watching and seeing what is going to happen. I find it weird that everyone else seems to think like me and nobody is actually moving to help him. I think I mumbled something, not sure. That is when daddy gets up as if nothing had happened, his 1.80 m of height, his body with all that hair that he always had, to the point of having to trim the nostrils, and starts skating again with exactly the same facial expression of every minute he had been there for that far. And there daddy goes again, I thought. 




And I was still hanging on to the rail in panic, now a bit more than before. 




Not even two minutes pass and thunder again. I cannot tell how it felt because, sincerely, I cannot connect to it, like I really don't remember. Again, daddy was flat, belly up, his eyes of frog wide open and starring at the roof or something, his body in cross, legs open, all the same. Again everyone reacts in the same way. Again dad raises in exactly the same way, and I am already thinking, what in a hell we are doing here, like one of us should know what to do. I think I finally found somebody to help me learn something, and I was then starting to rehearse some steps without the rail, but with the help of the lad's arm, when thunder happened again: Oh, my God! I thought that that time daddy was gone forever: It would not be possible to raise a third time, to have fallen in exactly the same position, as all the previous times, in exactly the same way, having it all happening exactly the same in general, and then raise. Notwithstanding, not to be believed, daddy did raise again in exactly the same way. 




I asked excuse-me, and took daddy home after that one: Time for stubborn kids to sleep. Oh, dear!




They say the generals always raise, but 1991 was final for daddy: Now only in spirit. Oh, poor Marcia!




That is who my father was: Were he alive and well in that 2001, were he a few years younger than he was when compared to me, and I swear to you that all the crimes I endure would have been stopped right there. I would have gotten both PhD title and permanent academic position at most in 2002 in Australia or even in the USA. That was a daddy that was worth the world indeed. 







Thursday, 28 July 2016

Amount of Vocabulary and Future







What you are going to be in life when you are an adult is probably dictated by the amount of words you can handle by the age of nine years old.



They asked a best-selling author what he thought was the best thing in life. He answered:

In this age and time, given the process of slow deterioration of human values and the quick march of technology, I would think that the epithet of the human life climax would be joint healthy delusion involving romance. 



They asked an interpreter/translator the same question. They answered:

We have to be practical: Money and influence are all that really matters.



They asked a brick layer: 

Best? Life? 







Thursday, 21 July 2016

Infamous and Beyond: Carioca Love






The female Brazilian amputee, who did not have both legs, decided to go on a romantic date again. Same same, she met him on the Internet. Fifth time. She still had hopes. They go to have dinner together. He was not an amputee. She preferred like that. He is about to drop her home, they are at the front. He sees the tree and has the idea: He puts her on it, and rapes her. 



In the end, he picks her up in the same way he put her there, and apologizes: That he couldn't hold himself, etc. 



She answers: It is all right. All the other four left me hanging on the tree. 








Thursday, 14 July 2016

Emergency, Mental




A man called The Interpreting Services: 



- Hello. 



- Hello, I am your interpreter. What are your first and last names?



- Malcom Roi.



- OK, Malcom. We are going to help you do what today?



- I am at the Mental Hospital. They told me that there is no interpreter for me. I am calling you to find out if that is really true.



- We are here for you, Malcom. So, who told you that there was no interpreter for you? For when do you need one? 



- The nurse. She came around, gave me a piece of paper with the number for your services, and then told me that they had no interpreters for me. That is for today, just now. 



- You say you are in a mental hospital, right? Do you mean the psychiatric ward of a hospital, what hospital?



- Paradox. 



- Ah, just a minute. Operator? So, here we have Malcom Roi. He says that he needs somebody to help him speak to the hospital staff but they are saying that there is no interpreter that they can reach. They then gave him our number. Can you do something about it?



- Sure. I will call them and see. (The operator makes the connection) Here is Marleen, interpreter. 



- Marleen, we here have Malcom Roi, and he says that he is at the car park of your hospital, downstairs, in front of the mental ward. 



- Ask him what he wants.



-What do you want, Malcom?



- I want to get out of the hospital. The doctor told me that I had to sign some papers, and I then need the help of a translator/interpreter. 



- Is he a patient here?



- Are you a patient at the Paradox, Malcom?



- We had a fight, and the lady called the police. They then brought me here.



- Where is he now?



- He said he is close to the car park, downstairs, in front of the mental ward. 



- Is he outside or inside?



- Malcom, are you inside of the hospital or outside?



- Outside







Monday, 11 July 2016

The Life of Actual Women in the 21st Century







And there she was: Hanging by half of each hand from the 10th floor of the building where she lived, her apartment


The front door was open, a bag containing 100,000 dollars was in the living room, but she was screaming and hanging. 


She had spent four weeks selling her New Rosary, five days out of seven during each week, in The Mall, and had sold 10,000 of them, quite miraculously. To sell all, she had to carry them by the fifties: A walk of about half an hour to go to The Mall, and another walk, of another half an hour, to come back home. She made this trip ten times each day, and she managed to sell 500 each time, quite miraculously. 


The husband had died in a car crash and she started praying more than the usual. God then blessed her with His words. Now she was hanging by the half of each hand from the 10th floor and the 100,000 dollars rested in the bag in her living room.


Here came a Brazilian man: Heard her screaming, got in, saw the green bill coming out of the bag, asked her about it. She said it was the money for the New Rosary that she had sold, 100,000. The Brazilian man said: Hum, money that is cash, nobody knows exists in any official way, and is still money that is not subjected to taxes? She screamed: Please save me



The Brazilian looked at the bag, and then at her: Her hand was already becoming red, and she could not stand thinking of how to save herself anymore. The Brazilian decided for letting her die, and getting the money after that. 



The Australian  man was in the building, heard her screaming, saw the bag, was going to save her, and then heard from the Brazilian man who was inside that the bag contained 100,000 dollars that nobody knew existed in terms of taxes or anything else. The Australian then proposed that they shared after she died, since it shouldn't take long.



The American man was in the building, and heard her screaming: He entered, saw both the Australian, and the Brazilian to one of the corners of her living room, and rushed to save her. Both the Brazilian, and the Australian showed their teeth, and their muscles, and blocked his way. The American then conformed, for he feared both the Australian, and the Brazilian, and he then stayed around to try to find an opportunity. 



Five more minutes of her screaming, and an Islamic guy appeared at the bottom of the building, a black guy. He said: Die, die, and die! (And he did not even know about the money!).



That was when she fell to her death, and there was blood at her face, which actually looked a bit like Christ's face. The Islamic man then said: She deserved! A Christian man approached, and said: Why? Did you know her? The Islamic guy said: It is a woman!



The American guy then cried as both the Australian, and the Brazilian left with the bag full of money. He was later on arrested for denying help, and not stopping theft when none of the subjects had weapons. The Christian is still praying the New Rosary on the hope she will come back, just like Christ did: Better some sort of life than none, he says. If she comes back as a spirit, I will help her.