#the result wont go here its just that i got one follower in the crafts blog lol

[mymomsaiditwasaphase]

Uhhhhhhhh, ok so, making a sweater for Leonardo cuz I got blue yarn and im a sucker for the color coding and

I just need one person to answer, im indecisive

[neural-novella]

The Marked 5

Author’s Note To Self: Don’t Trust Tumblr’s Draft System!

My eyes open to the familiar purple-blue city. The sound of thousands of Mage’s debating, squabbling and practicing their techniques engulf my senses. Unfortunately I am too late as my brother is already stood in front of me, He has been waiting for me to turn up. Have I become so predictable? I’ll have to make sure I teleport to random points in the city from now on. He doesn’t look happy as he glances at me with disdain. “Do you know what you have done?” he states.

“I didn’t do anything!” I rebuke. 

“I can’t prove you warned them somehow. They knew we were coming, they scouted us miles before we got to the outskirts. Even if I can’t prove you had something to do with this I just witnessed that you disobeyed me! You left the city after strict instructions not to do so!”

My brother looks away, fire burning in the palm of his hand. He’s always been the one to look after me, to stand up for me in school and life. Ultimately his will to protect is what lead him to becoming a Hunter, and I have never helped matters since. I have always driven a wedge between his duty as a Hunter and his duty as a Brother. I make decisions or get into situations that he must decide if he reports on as a Hunter or brushes under the carpet as my brother. It’s been really hard on him... but this time I doubt he can forgive me. He’ll have no choice but to report to the Council that the Marked has evacuated, that he had failed to do what was required of him.

“This is the last time brother,” He begins “the last time I can ever help you. I wont report to the Council that you have been out of the city, but I cannot hide the fact that someone here must have warned them and the Council will find out who. I suggest you lay low for a while, hopefully they won’t find you. Next time you do something like this, I’ll be sent to kill you understand?”

I nod in weary agreement. I wish there was more I could do for him. His rank plays on his heart, he has always been tested. Asked to do things he believes are wrong but he must carry out the Council’s orders. That’s why several years ago I got in between him and a Marked he was sent to kill. An innocent, we both knew she was innocent but just because she was Marked the Council wanted her dead. I did it to save a part of my brother but lost the piece of him that cared for me. He’s finally decided now, rank over blood. And that’s fair, his rank supports his family, his future. I’ve always gotten in the way of that.

Over the course of the next week, I spend a lot of time either brushing up on certain magical skills or drinking in whatever bar takes my fancy within the city. Word on the street is that my brother’s on course to be demoted after the failure of The Society attack. He’s been given a task to investigate who warned them, which if he fails I’m sure will result in him no longer being a Hunter. Meanwhile, I remain laying low and keeping out of trouble. I contacted the telepath that had assisted me in contacting Lee and Grimmal and told her she should probably do the same or get out of the city. She seemed quite content in continuing her life, any change being seen as suspicious and the fact she can pick up the mind of anyone who wishes to harm her before they even enter the same building.

Another week passes and still no news. I haven’t seen or heard from my brother. I want to contact Lee but I know it’d be a huge risk for us both. The Council are probably focusing on anyone using the type of magic signature that a long range telepathic message gives off. My mind wanders to how this all started. about 100 years ago there was a massive human war. Some Mages felt it was their duty to take part either as medics or as soldiers on the battlefield. One Mage in particular towards the latter end of the war, saw a way of turning the tide of battle. He created a series of spells, a ritual, a way of bestowing magical abilities to humans via specially crafted weaponry. However humans being humans, they decided that no one else could have such power and ended up using the weapons against their creator. It was a huge mess the Council barely managed to cover up, killing thousands of mages and humans alike in order to make sure no one had any evidence of the mistake to share. As it turns out, about 20 years later another war broke out and a german science division happened upon research into the same magical weaponry and devised a way to imbue a human body with such abilities in order to create a super soldier. His experiments failed one after the other, until he caught himself a mage. He experimented on the mage trying to figure out where is research was going wrong. When he finally figured it out, he attempted to create a super solider again but things went horribly wrong. There was a massive magical explosion and everyone within a 2 mile radius was killed. Oddly enough though, shortly after the war there were reports of children developing the same distinctive mark on their skin. After years of bloodlines now there are thousands of Marked in the world most of them with no idea how to control their abilities and some with no interest in them at all. The Council has been paying for their mistakes this entire time.

After a month passes by, I decide its time to leave the city. No one has come for me yet and there’s no sign or reports of anyone even being close to asking me questions. I need to speak to Lee and Grimmal. I travel by foot to the furthest outreach of the city, doing my best to be as far from the Magus Council as possible. When ready I take a deep breath and begin to cast a teleportation spell again. As my body is engulfed in a blue cloud I suddenly realize I have no idea where to go; I dismiss the spell for the moment. I contemplate visiting the telepath again to see if she can track either one but again the risk this poses is too great, there’s no way she’d do it. After a few moments of thought I concoct a plan and recast the spell, focusing on the rooftop that Lee last threw me off of.

I open my eyes to a human city, the noise of busy people on the streets and cars having close calls fills my ears. The smell of decay, smog and food fills the air. I walk over to the edge of the building and blink into the alleyway once I have it in sight. A homeless guy gets startled by the angelic vision of someone randomly bursting into existence via a shower of white sparks. I smile at him and continue to the metal door of the Marked Safe House, there’s no need to wipe his memory who’s really going to believe a homeless guy ranting and raving about angels anyways. The door is locked, damn! I imagine the interior I only visited once, the dark walls and dirt floor. I blink once more within the safe house.

It’s empty, I should have expected as much. The Marked have moved on which is exactly what they needed to do, I don’t really know why this place being empty surprised me so much. Rodents scurry up and down the perimeter, running away from the bright flash I would have emitted upon entering. I sit on the ground and meditate. Contemplating how I find anyone. Then an image hits me, Sable standing there telling me about how this was my fault. I focus on her features, her dark hair, slim face. I take a deep breath and extend my right hand into the air, extending out my fingertips as I cast silver threads from each one. A type of scrying spell used to track one’s magical signature. Good for Mage’s who can never truly stop passively emitting magic into the air around them, difficult for Marked who can. I focus more on Sable’s character, her whispering voice, her average height. As I exhale I simultaneously open my eyes and clench my right hand into a fight. The threads at my finger tips transform into a single long silvery thread that I now clasp in my hand. I was just barely able to manifest it, she hasn’t been here in so long. I close my eyes again and use my magic to trace the thread, following Sable wherever she has been. At the end of the thread I finally see her and Grimmal, sharing what appears to be a cheap apartment on the other side of town. I smile, this kind of magic was never natural to me. It always took me a while to get somewhere, and to do this after she had not been here for so long is quite the feat. I let go of the thread and it vaporizes out of existence. I stand up and blink back into the alleyway, after the amount of magic I’ve just expelled in order to get to this city, into the safehouse and track Sable I am at my limits. To use any more to get to Sable would be irresponsible as a Mage, I would lack the ability to defend myself when I got there. 

“So I guess walking it is, the good ol’ fashioned way” I tell myself as I turn out of the alleyway and join the stream of people walking in different directions on the street.

[brisbanecollection-blog]

Virat Kohli: 'A passionate robot with single-minded determination'

When he has failed, as he did in his younger years in Australia and England, he shrewdly and meticulously learnt and returned as a mighty, almost impenetrable threat. The last time he was in Australia, Kohli left with 692 runs at 86.25 with four centuries in four Tests. This year in England, he thumped 593 at 59.3, altering his technique in a bid to counter the swinging ball. At 30, he returns to Australia as the No.1 ranked batsman in the world, at the peak of his powers and ready to pose an extraordinary number of questions to a frontline attack of Pat Cummins, Mitchell Starc, Josh Hazlewood and Nathan Lyon. He will also be keen to make amends for his poor form last year against Australia, when the tourists held him to 46 runs at 9.2 in five innings before he conceded to injury. While that was on Indian soil, Starc, Lyon, Hazlewood and Cummins should be able to take confidence from at least having dismissed him once each in that series, having him caught twice and lbw twice. But those who know Kohli argue that wont matter for several reasons, most notably for he is a man who famously only focuses only on the next delivery, perhaps more acutely than any rival. Respected batting coach and analyst Trent Woodhill has worked with several of the games superstars, including Kevin Pietersen and Kane Williamson, in the Indian Premier League, and has spent considerable time with Kohli at Royal Challengers Bangalore. Loading He doesnt get caught up in whats happening too far ahead. Like no other sportsman I have worked with, he is so in the moment. All his focus will be on that red Kookaburra in game one, then the next ball, then the next ball, Woodhill said. It sounds boring and sounds like a cliche but he reminds me of the Langer of old, the Hayden of old, the S. Waugh of old. They are so compelled to be in the contest that the contest doesnt seem too threatening because its only the next ball where we have got to an age with our batting where we are looking for a result, we are looking for a score, we are looking for a milestone than [just] the next ball counts. That means attempting to unnerve Kohli through sledging is unlikely to work. While his emotions can bubble over while fielding, his focus when batting predominantly remains firmly on the next delivery although he is known for the odd word. Its also been pointed out that any negative headlines from the Australian media wont impact on him, either. Where touring teams, particularly the South Africans of a generation ago, suffocated under their own siege mentality, Kohli has a billion people following his every move and has flourished. That he married actress Anushka Sharma, a star in her own right, has only intensified the spotlight. Loading I try to be a monk living in a civil society, you know, and I dont have any regrets, Kohli once said. Majumdar added: Here was someone so deeply invested in his craft that all things happening in and around were of little consequence to him. He could cocoon himself from it all and do what has been asked of him lead the Indian cricket team with infectious passion in all formats Majumdar added: Here was someone so deeply invested in his craft that all things happening in and around were of little consequence to him. He could cocoon himself from it all and do what has been asked of him lead the Indian cricket team with infectious passion in all formats of the game.

Peerless: Finding a chink in Virat Kohli's armour will be a huge challenge for Australia.Credit:AP Former England captain Michael Vaughan has marvelled at Kohlis superb fitness, allowing him to replicate his technique and body movements time and time again when the pressure is on in the key moments. Where batsmen can try to force themselves to adopt an unnatural technique, something that is changing in the modern game, particularly in Twenty20 cricket, Kohli looks for what is natural and continues to play with an open bat face. He recently changed his technique, having his bat lift around his back hip and doesnt tap the crease as much, something teammates and coaches were slow to pick up on, because his run scoring remained so fluent. The Australians know he wont be intimidated by a short-pitched attack as Mitchell Johnson could attest after his brilliant century in the Boxing Day Test of four years ago. Where the fourth-stump channel seeking an edge behind can trouble even the best of batsmen, thats not necessarily the case with Kohli. There are those who argue the best line is the traditional middle and off-stump route, forcing Kohli to know there are consequences should he mishit being bowled or lbw. Former England captain Nasser Hussain said Kohlis attacking demeanour, and what Hussain claims is a desire to please, means there is always an element of risk to his game. I try to be a monk living in a civil society, you know, and I dont have any regrets His gut instinct is to score runs. He is not a blocker who just wants to occupy the crease. His gut feeling is: Im here to entertain, Im the greatest player on the planet, Hussain said during the northern summer when Kohli rebounded in English conditions. Kohli had also learnt from earlier failures in England. He stood further out from his crease in a bid to negate the swinging ball, particularly from Jimmy Anderson, and also he stepped further to the pitch of the delivery. There is also a theory that he can be bored out, that being bowling wide of the stumps to test his patience and ego. That then forces Kohli to step across his stumps, a tactic Vernon Philander used well earlier this year because he was able to then spear a straight delivery at his pads. Philander, though, only dismissed Kohli once. As one insider also noted, Kohli is Mark Waugh-esque off his pads, meaning the runs can flow if the tactic fails. Loading That he had tremendous success here last time means he is unlikely to change much, having analysed the manner in which he went about his business initially against a then Australian attack of Johnson, Ryan Harris, Peter Siddle, Shane Watson and Lyon. In an interview with Macquarie Radio on Saturday, Kohli declared he had always loved coming to Australia and playing here. Its a great place to bat. I feel there are times when you are going to find it difficult as a batsman but, in general, if you apply yourself and back your skill sets, and if you like pace and bounce, I think you will be fine, he said. Thats something I have never had any issues with I have never had any issues with pace or bounce of any kind. I actually enjoy playing on wickets that actually provide that pace from the pitch where the ball comes onto the bat. Then you can gain momentum in your innings and keep going with that. I think its a great place to bat if you are in the right mindset. Loading What Kohli wants most, though, is to taste a series victory. Being the worlds best batsman and most marketable asset may provide an intoxicating high, but it wont be anything like being the first Indian captain to capture a Test series here, something the likes of Gavaskar, Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly could not do. However, he cannot do it alone. Series defeats in England (4-1) and South Africa (2-1) this year have shown consistent output from his top-order is needed if his attack, the best India has ever brought to Australia, is to flourish. Majumdar, who has followed Kohli closely for years, wonders what his legacy will be. The last words on Kohli have clearly not been written. Will he be hailed in five years as Indias greatest batsman and captain, or will he go down as an autocrat who treated legends unfairly? Again, will it matter to him how we label him? Does Kohli, the person, really care anymore? I guess, he doesnt, for he is at peace with himself, in his gym, at training, in marriage and most importantly in the coveted 22 yards, he wrote. He is all alone when he bats and when he trains. A passionate robot with single-minded determination. Much like the team he now leads. But even robots need help. THE VIRAT FILES: * Test his ego and patience with a line outside off stump, forcing him across the crease - then spearing in a straight delivery in the hope of an lbw. However, he is strong off his pads. * There is nothing wrong with a middle and off stump line, as there are consequences should he mistime a stroke. * He is prepared to adapt to local conditions - stood further out of his crease against the swinging ball in England. If he does that here, Australia could look to make him play more off the back foot. * Proved here last time he is prepared to take on the short ball for he likes the pace and bounce of Australian conditions. * Is not worried about a poor stroke - focuses on the next ball like no other batsmen in world cricket. * Sledging now unlikely to impact his concentration. Tests Inn NO Runs HS Ave 100s 50s v Australia 15 27 1 1322 169 50.84 6 3 in Australia 8 16 0 992 169 62.00 5 2 v Bangladesh 2 3 0 256 204 85.33 1 0 v England 19 35 3 1570 235 49.06 5 5 v New Zealand 7 13 2 735 211 66.81 3 3 v South Africa 9 16 0 758 153 47.37 2 3 v Sri Lanka 9 15 2 1004 243 77.23 5 2 v West Indies 12 15 0 686 200 45.73 2 3 Career: 73 124 8 6331 243 54.57 24 19 Jon Pierik is a sports writer with The Age, focusing primarily on AFL football, cricket and basketball. He has won awards for his cricket and basketball writing. Most Viewed in Sport Loading https://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/sport/cricket/virat-kohli-a-passionate-robot-with-single-minded-determination-20181129-p50j1s.html?ref=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_source=rss_feed

[globlenet-blog]

The alternative 2016 sports awards: the years best quotes, gaffes and meltdowns

https://clearwatergolfclub.com/the-alternative-2016-sports-awards-the-years-best-quotes-gaffes-and-meltdowns/

The alternative 2016 sports awards: the years best quotes, gaffes and meltdowns

Your investment medal tables: it had been another big year for sporting soap opera. The quotes, the rows and also the capybaras that made yesteryear 12 several weeks special

Star of the season

Cristiano Ronaldo won a 4th Ballon dOr, launched a variety of CR7 blankets, tossed a microphone into a lake, inspired a tantrum meme, and located the eras defining football press conference, using the press banned from asking them questions. He denied it had been his idea to possess the questions resulting from a Uefa media officer rather: I decide nothing. Also, he made an appearance to goes a magic fully-created Euro 2016 TV graphic during Portugals quarter-final. Perfect.

Ian Finch (@FinchIan)

Not only a skilful player, Ronaldo may also gob out a replay wipe #POLPOR pic.twitter.com/UC44YRv5TA

June 30, 2016

Manager of the season

Claudio Ranieri, using the edge off 2016.Hey, man, dilly-ding, dilly-dong. Seriously! Former Ranieri player Gianfranco Zola revealed the saying was attempted and tested. Hes always stated dilly-ding, dilly-dong. Hes a vibrant guy. Initially when i first heard it’ understood what he meant. He explained it a lot of occasions.

Modern footballer of the season

Lots of contenders, but two Rental property men share the title: club captain Gabby Agbonlahor, relegated on the nitrous oxide legal high 2 yrs after extending his Rental property deal because: I get that very same buzz pulling around the Rental property shirt, and team-mate Joleon Lescott, who livened up last seasons harsh run-in by tweeting a photograph of a sports car following a 6- defeat and telling the press how going lower would be a real weight off the shoulders. He left on the free in August.

Also standing his ground: Poultry midfielder Ozan Tufan upset with media critique throughout the Euros after he was caught on camera doing his hair as Croatias Luka Modric formed as much as score before him. I do not get the way a single moment by which I actually do my locks are considered an error. It damages my confidence.

Best Olympic moment

Recording the atmosphere: Nikki Hamblin and Abbey DAgostino helping one another finish Rios 5,000m after colliding mid-race. Hamblin: After I went lower it had been like: Whats happening? Why shall we be held on the floor? And all of a sudden theres this hands on my small shoulder. That girl may be the Olympic spirit, immediately.

Story from the summer time

Syrian teen Yusra Mardini winning her heat within the 100m butterfly for that Refugee Team in Rio, annually after surviving the capsize of the six-man dinghy transporting 20 refugees towards Lesbos. This is actually awesome there are plenty of tales about me now and lots of people who wish to take my picture: its assisting to spread our message. This doesn’t stop here This isn’t the finish.

Most off-message

1) US womens football star Hope Solo, reflecting on their own Rio quarter-final defeat to Norway: We performed a courageous game but we performed a lot of cowards. The very best team didn’t win, I strongly, firmly think that. They wont allow it to be far. They provided the ultimate. And 2) The uniform golfers delivering their pre-Games causes of not likely to Rio. Rory McIlroy: Though the chance of infection in the Zika virus is recognized as low, it’s a risk nevertheless. Dustin Manley: My concerns concerning the Zika virus can’t be overlooked. Jason Day: The only reason behind my decision may be the danger to future people in our family. And Vijay Singh: I must take part in the Olympic games, however the Zika virus, you realize everything crap.

Best change of direction

Originated from Sepp Blatters substitute at Fifa, Gianni Infantino calling his new pay deal evidence of its emerging anti-avarice culture. Infantino stated his modest contract 1.15m fundamental plus bonuses, vehicle, house, 1,542-a-month expenses and funding for just one-off costs for example 1,100 for any tuxedo and 660 on flowers reflects greater than any word can reflect my strong will to finish recent conduct.

Former Fifa man of the season

Most relaxed because the FBI required a grip: former Concacaf mind Jeffrey Webb, who located a Harlem Renaissance-themed blackjack party in Feb while under house arrest in the Georgia mansion he bought with fraud money. Webb, looking for sentencing next May, required the Concacaf presidency this year pledging to attract a line underneath the organisations shameful Jack Warner era: We must move the clouds, and let the sunshine in.

Interview of the season

Gary and Paul ODonovan, live on RT in August after winning Irelands first rowing gold discussing the craic, Nutella, peeing in cups, how you can row (close your vision and pull just like a dog), and just how sad they believed to stay in Rio simply because they were missing the Rio-themed parties in Skibbereen. Recently these were named RT Sport Team of the season, appeared inside a new documentary Pull Just like a Dog, were interviewed for Graham Nortons New Years Eve BBC1 show, and named as Britains most Googled Irish-related search phrase within the entire 2016. Gary: Its funny the way in which its labored out.

Best commentary moments

Icelands Euro 2016 coverage, which from Irelands Cathal Dennehy and Ronan Duggan, live streaming Aprils Irish Universities Athletics Association womens 4 x 400m dramatic relay final being an outsider billed in the depths of hell to victory. Dennehy accepted later hed achieved a pitch approximately your dog whistle along with a squealing pig All of us lost the brain.

Worst commentary moments

1) Canadas Olympic broadcaster CBC apologising in August after their swimming commentator known as the entire mens 200m individual medley mistaking Michael Phelps for Ryan Lochte and 2) John Virgo, confident he was off-air during BBC1s live coverage of Mark Selby and Marco Fus epic contest at snookers World Championship in April: I wanted to watch a bit of racing this afternoon. Ill be lucky to look at some fucking Match during the day. Spokesman: Hes embarrassed and apologetic.

Pundit of the season

The clip that never grows old. Skys Steve McClaren in June, together with his in-play analysis of Englands reaction to Icelands equaliser: It has been the right response from England. You simply think: Not a problem, begin anew, keep dominating, keep getting pressure around the Iceland back four the only real factor they have got may be the big boy in advance Sigurdsson, nobody Sigthorsson Oh, ohhh

Best attitude

Mike Allardyce negotiating the 400,000 top-up that ended his 67-day England reign. He guaranteed undercover reporters hed deliver their pretend clients keynote speaking, thats what Id do, Im a keynote speaker plus good value not only the keynote speech but additionally within the bar after. I do not are available in like many of them, bang, youre off. What happens I am talking about? Im likely to stand in the bar. Possess a couple of social drinks.

Best protest

Charlton and Coventry fans, staging some pot protest in October against both clubs boards by hurling hundreds of plastic pigs in the pitch. @CAFCofficial, 3.02pm: Play is stopped. Pigs on pitch. 3.03pm: (A fantasy ones).

Social networking awards

Best live tweeting: 1) Danny Willetts brother Pete, watching the Masters in April with tweets including: Without words. I once punched that kid in the head for hurting my pet rat. Now look and: Ive shared a shower having a Masters champion. His Ryder Cup online preview in September which branded US fans pudgy, filthy cretins along with a baying mob of imbeciles didnt go down so well. 2) @hastingsufc, remaining professional from the odds in October: Apologies for insufficient updates / Ive been stung with a wasp. Even game, no significant chances. 3) And Icelands @rvkgrapevine, giving one minute-by-minute evaluation of keeper Hannes Halldorssons summer time performance against Portugal. dinns breath propelled our heroic goalkeeper to swat away that weak-ass header and: Goalkeeper Such As The High cliff FACE AT DYRHOLAEY The Only Real Factor Which Will DESTROY HIM IS CENTURIES OF Seaside EROSION.

Most sincere tweet: Sunderlands Victor Anichebe, copying and pasting an excessive amount of what his PR team sent him after Octobers defeat to West Pork @VictorAnichebe: Are you able to tweet something similar to: Unbelievable support yesterday and great effort through the lads! Hard lead to take! But we go again!

Most confused: Californian Facebook user Petra Fyde, asking her buddies and family in June: At the chance of sounding stupid How come a lot of strange men within my facebook inbox saying WILL GRIGGS Burning, YOUR DEFENSE IS PETRA FYDE?????? What the heck is happening?

And also the best-crafted pledge: @Joey7Barton, 24 May: To be a Ranger would be to sense the sacred trust of upholding everything this type of name means within this shrine of football. 15 Sep: I apologise unreservedly.

Frederick Barton (@Joey7Barton)

To become a Ranger would be to sense the sacred trust of upholding everything this type of name means within this shrine of football. pic.twitter.com/nb5yTKq420

May 24, 2016

Best put-lower

Andy Murray in August, requested by John Inverdale: Youre the very first person to ever win two Olympic tennis golds, thats an remarkable task, is it not? Murray: I believe Venus and Serena have won four each. @jk_rowling: Murray just advised John Inverdale that ladies are people too.

Best analysis

One of the footballers reacting to Brexit in June: @PetrCech:It appears as though the greatest decision within the good reputation for the united states is made with different fake campaign and lies. Italys Giorgio Chiellini:The primary problem is an eventual domino effect. I do not think the straightforward United kingdom exit can alter the equilibrium from the whole European economy, besides the acid reflux everyones feeling. I believe the discontent shouldnt result in disintegration. Jermaine Pennant @pennant83: Now we’re not in Europe whats going to take place using the next euros 2018??? And Nolito: What’s Brexit? I believe its dancing. I might be wrong.

Wisest words

25 November:England coach Eddie Johnson, hailing wing Elliot Daly within the buildup for their game against Argentina: He is doing stuff you dont coach. 26 November:Daly sent off after five minutes.

Sharpest PR

Rio 2016 spokesperson Mario Andrada explaining why organisers couldnt be anticipated to simply fix the eco-friendly water within the pool overnight: Chemistry isn’t an exact science.

Best customer support

In August Englands slow over-rate against Pakistan motivated spectator Alexis Larger to tweet: I would like 10% of my money-back. Wouldnt visit football and discover it ended after 80mins. Alex Hales tweeted back: ok DM me your bank details then transferred 4.10.

Miss of the season

Italys Simone Zaza tiptoeing his way to stardom in the place against Germany in the Euros the summers single greatest non-Ronaldo meme. Among the remixes: Zaza like a seagull rubber stamping for worms, Zaza doing Olympic dressage, and Zaza inside a queue for that toilet. Zaza: Regrettably the ball went excessive. It will likely be beside me throughout my existence.

Single worst moment of 2016

Setting a dark tone for Trump, Brexit, Farage and exactly what adopted Germany coach Joachim Lws distressing televised in-trouser scratch and sniff routine in mid-June. Im sorry for this. When you’re filled with adrenaline, unexpected things happen that you simply dont see. I’ll attempt to behave differently later on.

President of the season

Palermos 74-year-old owner Maurizio Zamparini entered 2016 searching to place his coach-eater image to sleep. Heres the way it unfolded:

10 Jan: Zamparini denies hes already feeling twitchy about his new coach Davide Ballardini. I won’t sack him, despite the fact that I possibly could. 11 Jan: Sacks him and hires Guillermo Barros Schelotto. 11 February:Finds out Schelotto hasn’t got his badges and hires Giovanni Bosi rather. 15 February: Sacks Bosi and rehires Giuseppe Iachini, who he sacked in November. 8 Marly:Calls Iachini a fool that has gone mad and replaces him with Walter Novellino. 12 Apr:Sacks Novellino, rehires Ballardini. People say Ive gone mad, but Im the victim here. 6 Sep: Hires Roberto de Zerbi after Ballardini resigns two games in to the season. 28 November:Denies he already has his doubts about De Zerbi. I’ll keep him. That’s my decision. 30 November: Sacks De Zerbi to be pitiful and hires Eugenio Corini to determine out a hard year. Why Corini? There wasnt much on the market.

Most British moment

In April West Indies needed an unlikely 19 in the final to win the planet T20 and Englands Ben Stokes was the person using the ball in the hands to shut the result. Four balls and 4 Carlos Brathwaite sixes later, it had been over. I send Ben commiserations, stated Brathwaite. Hes a complete legend.

Most unpredicted hero

Marcus Willbomb Willis, world No775 as he stunned Wimbledon and, almost, Roger Federer sticking it to trolls who dubbed him Cartman because of his big bones. His Wimbledon run ended having a cheque for 30,000. It is the greatest pay day Ive ever endured. I’m able to repay a few charge cards now.

Chant of the season

Huh! by Iceland. Also worth a mention: tactics-minded Carlisle fans having a Peter Andre-themed message to manager Keith Curle: Woah-oh-oh-oh, Mysterious Curle, I wanna play 3-5-2.

Best falling lower

2016s best football tumbles: Brazilian players Marcelo Cordeiro and Rossi pretending to have been headbutted by each other in October (Cordeiro: Thats just existence. Thats the sport were in) Toulouse coach Pascal Dupraz feeling upset in November by critique of his response to a paper plane brushing his head: Each one of these critics, theyre so brave and Louis van Gaals Miranda Hart pratfall in Feb, because he designed a serious point.

Best Strictly contenders

a) Everton manager Roberto Martnez, filmed dancing at a Jason Derulo concert in Feb b) Mike Allardyce, spotted in Marbella in May spinning on the spot to Rihannas We Found Love and c) Alan Pardew, marking Castles FA Cup final goal by throwing dad shapes on Wembleys touchline. The 3 of these were sacked within several weeks.

Politicians of the season

Were Icelands Ministry for Foreign Matters, @MFAIceland explaining how their 23-man Euro 2016 squad chose itself by whittling lower their people in this country of 332,529.

MFA Iceland (@MFAIceland)

@pin_upicierno pic.twitter.com/ot0Mq2lsjM

June 27, 2016

Best celebration

Michail Antonios horizontal-running grass-dance in Feb after scoring for West Pork. I saw The Simpsons Movie a few days ago. I believe I pulled them back.

Least foreseeable setback

British cyclist Adam Yates, out while watching primary peloton within the Tour de France in This summer, simply to be flattened whenever a fans belt punctured an inflatable Vittel advertising arch. He still continued to win the white-colored jersey, though.

Best clarification

Skiing star Lindsey Vonn, ambassador for Mind skis and bindings, reacted to some ski detaching mid-race in Feb by posting a video of herself destroying her Mind bindings having a hammer. After talks together with her agent she clarified: It was by no means, shape or form an expression around the performance from the Mind skis and bindings. In my opinion in Mind.

Most distracted

French fencer Enzo Lefort entering the Rio Games declaring: Ive given something to arrive here. Its important to not be distracted then being booed through the crowd after his phone fell out of his pocket mid-bout.

Best pose

Roy Hodgson, recognizing themself around the giant screen as England trailed to Iceland.

Danny Bloodstream (@dannyswfc)

Whenever you place your self on the giant screen and wish individuals to think there is a plan… pic.twitter.com/YLX3Mf6kB0

June 27, 2016

Best comeback

Andy Townsend, back on ITV for that summer time: Thats as blatant a problem as youll ever see. Could it have been certainly within the box? I do not know.

Worst luck

Australian rugby league star Jarryd Hayne, cutting short his presentation to 200 school pupils around the risks of the web when his screen began flashing up porn. Organisers stated the pictures didn’t originate from Jarryds device Hayne: It had been awkward. Wow.

Greatest last laugh

Louise Watson obtaining the second biggest fine in Wimbledon history, 9,040, for racket smashing 1,500 greater than Viktor Troickis acceptable for ranting from the worst ever umpire on the planet. She arrived on the scene ahead, though: winning 50,000 on her mixed doubles victory.

Cheapest blow

Spare a concept for Serb rowers Milos Vasic and Nenad Bedik, who showed up in Rio feeling good after 4 years of beginning training and sank after 1,250m.

Greatest attention seekers

Headlining 12 several weeks of viral animal cameos: a) an unflustered cat supporting play at Januarys Everton v Dagenham game, then losing its poise when keeper Joel Robles shooed it b) a squirrel doing the same at Marchs third T20 between Nigeria and Australia (@samuelfez: Watson in to the attack. Zampa at square leg. Maxwell gully. Squirrel deep point #SAvAUS) c) 20 mongooses storming a green during Novembers European Tours Nedbank Golf Challenge in Nigeria

and d) two pitch-invading dogs one sparking an earlier tea in Novembers second India v England Test, another chasing Gois left-back Juninho throughout a Brazilian Serie B game. Juninho stated he ran since you cant tell with dogs locals told RBS TV the stray, Zulu, is simply soppy If he sees a ball, he goes chasing. Not one of them outshone time top sporting animal, though: Brazils hefty and nonplussed golf course capybaras. Australia captain Ian Baker-Finch: That bloody factor is big. Have you ever seen it? Its half wombat, half dog. US player Matt Kuchar: Its just like a moosehead on the gigantic rat. US director Andy Levinson: It appears as though your dog. A just like a dog-pig.

Plus special mention for: Lorenzo the horse, dancing to Smooth by Santana in Rios individual dressage.

Most thorough

These warning notices stuck over the toilets in Rios Olympic Village, banning a variety of unlicensed toilet activities. US basketball star Elena Delle Donne: Guess I will not be toilet fishing today.

Most depressing fact

For fans of the certain age: in May Burys Callum Styles grew to become the very first footballer born in 2000 to look inside a League game in November fellow millennial Moise Kean switched out for Juventus within the Champions League.

Getting people together

Wales midfielder Joe Ledley: dancing for Europe last summer time. One of the headlines: La drole de danse du Gallois and Ledley enflamme le vestiaire.

Best message

Cricketer Liam Thomas wasnt frustrated in October when his prosthetic leg came off as he dived close to the boundary while fielding for that England Physical Disability team. He jumped following the ball rather and delivered a fierce return. Should there be kids available watching who thought they couldnt take part in the game before week, he stated later, I would like these to know they are able to do anything whatsoever installed their mind to.

Most satisfactory reply

Originated from 15-year-old Wimbledon women singles champion Anastasia Potapova answering press questions regarding her existence after winning the ultimate. I do not have siblings or siblings but I’ve got a duck, Vita. Shes small.

Best swagger

Haitian hurdler Jeffrey Julmis the undisputed star from the 110m hurdles in Rio. Within the selection before his race he gave your camera some textbook Usain Bolt-style attitude, then went mind over heels in the first hurdle.

Most uplifting

Showing the planet isnt totally damaged: Barcelonas under-14s side, lightly consoling their tearful Japanese rivals after beating them within the final of Augusts Junior Soccer World Challenge a mixture of hugs and pep talks.

Plus: most offended

Japanese pole vaulter Hiroki Ogita upset by reports in August that hed knocked the bar off with his penis. Irrrve never expected the foreign media to consider me lower such as this. Its false, and i’m devastated they mock and ridicule me a lot. He later tweeted: Watching again, this really is pretty funny, basically let them know myself. LOL.

Find out more: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2017/jan/01/alternative-2016-sports-awards-quotes-gaffes-meltdowns

[radnewworld]

FINAL PRODUCT

Some wacky times we’re living in, lemme tell ya. Hard too, though you don’t need a scaly bastard kiddo like yours truly to tell you that, right? Ain’t no dusty road or dirty corner in ol’ New Chicago that won’t tell ya the story of the city it once was, before the war, poverty and industrialization in that order stomped it into submission with a giant capitalistic boot… or so me Pa used to tell me, ‘fore he got his tongue melted licking the wrong orifice of a half-Bonnac gal. Had some kooky tastes me Pa, alright.

Now that I think ‘bout it, I’m not even sure if it actually was a gal, or if she was only half-Bonnac. I’d have asked him, hadn’t he gotten his organs sucked right out of his arse after a misunderstanding with this one Kappa chick. Another thing about Pa, you see, is that he never quite learned his lesson - he’d just switch subjects altogether.

Anyway, before he shat his innards into some mutant’s mouth, Pa would pass  most of the time he wasn’t spending with his face drowning in a triple-breasted whore’s chest complaining. He’d made an art out of it. I’ve learned more in ten years by listening to my dad bitching than in the entirety of the six months I spent at school, before the school got turned into a sweatshop for the manifacture of processed iguana leather. Most of the time, he’d go on and on about how things were better before, when the city was still, y’know, a city and not a bunch of dingy warehouses dotted with dozens of hundreds of crumbling squatting holes. If you’d be patient enough to dig through the storm of expletives and racism coming out of his mouth, you’d find the portrait of a place spanning longer than the eye could see, asphalt and cement paving a myriad streets with their confines defined by buildings that tickled the stars, like ol’ Buddy Holly v2.0 used to sing. Sounded like a load of crock if you ask me. You wanna see skyscrapers and roads where you don’t risk stepping on rusty pieces of abandoned alloy all the time, you travel elsewhere. Saint Francis - or San Francisco, like Old Man ‘Lizard-Fucker’ Larry said it was called, before the Californian Republicommunist Party’s coup; the Kingdom of Los Angeles, though last I heard, it’s been a couple of years since King McDonald imposed a ban on immigrants and got it in his head to attempt a new form of bovine-engineered autarchy, so good luck geting there; don’t bother with York, unless you feel like archaic remnants of obsolete architecture are worth becoming compost for those gigantic Plant things’ve been covering the whole place since Newer York’s secession.

Not that I’ve ever been there, or anywhere other than this dump, mind ya. Can’t afford much in the way of traveling - or basic commodities, for that matter - when you make a living frying simil-wheat noodles for a buncha tired factory workers, half-breeded hookers and the occasional frogbull hunter. Mind, I’d rather keep pulling my cart ‘til the rust finished eating through its battered chassis, than so much as consider trying to follow in the footsteps of my clientele. That is, if I ever had the illusion of a choice in the matter: child prostitution has gone down considerably, after a Japanese barge filled with fugitives from the Third Sengoku conflicts crashed on the coast and brought with it a buncha carriers of that artificial Jizo’s Tears virus, you know, the one that melts your balls off if you so much as put your dickhole anywhere near a little kid? Big fat lot of good it did them, when half the arcipelago’s population got culled after realizing too late that they’d fucked up somewhat the calibration of the nanomachines carrying the damned thing.

The hunting business doesn’t carry the same forced age restrictions, but I’d sooner sell my toes to cyber-shamans than shoot at frogbulls with a cobbled up pebble accelerator. Doesn’t matter that the rich sonnuvas living in their cloud domes up in the sky pay some decent bucks for what they consider to be the junkfood of delicacies (or maybe it was the other way around? Still wouldn’t change the fact those Cloudsniffers are a buncha spoiled bitches), when all of your savings are more likely than not gonna fuel an early funeral at the DIY Chapel, after three-hundred pounds of leaping, furry rage are done squashing your everything into a chunky, bloody paste.

And the laborers? Just look at them poor suckers, should you ever want to feel better about your life. Skin so unused to the sun from basically living their lives in a badly lit concrete prison that they become walking sunburns soon as they step outside, and enough stumps produced by a rate of three workplace incidents per week that they end up looking more like the machinery they command than men with their half-assed prosthetics. Ain’t no dreams for the Machine Eaten, we say here. Slaves enjoy better human rights than these guys who’re just there to fill the gaps left in a wonky production line by a tight budget, a slimy, corrupt owner or, more often than not, both. Speaking of, I mentioned something about the weirdness of our times or whatever earlier, ain’t that the case? Yeah, well, it’s because of this odd business I had just the other day, with this one factory toiler. Thing is, he was no man like you and I - hell, he was less of a someone than he was something.

So here I am, parked at my usual corner of the Daley Crater, taking care of business as usual. It’s the middle of midnight - in other words, the brightest time of a summer day, and the hottest to boot. The American Dreamtime… some of the old fogeys call it that. According to them, the U. S. of A. used to get black and chilly like any other country whenever night struck. Cue the Commies building some kinda sunray-concentrating machine on the moon and, next thing you know, naptime in America’s looking sunnier than a fried monkey egg. The Commies have been dead since the Fifties (the Pre-2.0 Era Fifties, mind), but with no rockets supposedly left to go and dismantle it, their little gift has remained there like an annoying reminder of how far people will go for the sake of pettiness. All that means to me, though, is a smaller workload; only people desperate enough to venture through a shower of scorching UV’s are scalied mutants and the few fortunate enough to afford a protective cape. Not that I care much for the latter; if you can afford that kind of luxury in New Chicago, you’re either a tourist, or able to eat slightly better shit than mine.

Jimmy the Bastard belongs to neither category. The one reason he was sitting at whatever passes for a stool, right under the cheap anti-sun plastic tent of my stall, is pure convenience: the asphalt repurposing facility he works for is a spit away from my spot. His shift ended some ten minutes ago and he’s been drooling over my counter for a little over nine. I can tell his leg is bouncing like crazy because of the squeaky noises coming from his dingy seat.

“C’mon, Cookie, won’t you feed a lad? I’m starving here!”

I’d say Cookie is a nickname of sorts… if the ‘lad’ didn’t genuinely believe it was my actual name, which I doubt I ever told him to begin with. I’d bet you my cart I’d still be Cookie to him regardless, ‘cause he’s stubborn like that, Jimmy the Bastard.

Speaking of names, that’s not his either - I mean the Bastard part, not the Jimmy one. They call him that because of an accident, one unrelated to his birth (pretty sure he is an actual bastard, though, like most of us New Chicagoites): it happened all of a sudden, like accidents are wont to do, especially in a low-income factory. All it took was a single slip over a blotch of oil and, next thing you know, a Mark II Crumbler is feasting on poor Jimmy’s cranium. With his head half-gone and medical fees being what they are (fucking expensive, that is), the sod’s family was left with little choice - either lose their main source of income, or settle for Doc Gustave ‘Rusty Sawbone’ Trandin��’s Disgustingly Cheap Option. The ‘disgusting’ part comes from how sloppy of a job it usually is, I figure, but what’s a wife to do? Send the hubbie to the grinder, of course. The result: Jimmy kept his life, but half his brain is now a Terrier-Chihuahua breed’s. According to him, it hasn’t impacted his life all that badly, aside from the occasional urge to gnaw on exposed wires or growling at his supervisor’s face. It’s not like he didn’t have to deal with the latter before anyway, you know? The increased appetite is a definite plus for me, though. Almost makes up for the sloppy mess he makes of the counter! “Order’s coming up, Jimmy. I ain’t about to let ya gnaw on raw ingredients just ‘cause you wouldn’t mind.”

I like to think it takes balls to maintain a sense of pride, when your craft mostly consists in stripping layers of pasty skin off the back of a semi-organic glob of homegrown simil-wheat. Having an extra testicle - courtesy of a combined pool of bloodlines murkier than the water dripping from the Madison Sewer Dungeon’s exposed tubes - gives some weight to the claim, I’m sure. Now, right as the noodles are done getting crispy and saucier than the lingerie on a tentacle-legged Dagonite whore, here comes the noise, man, it’s still playing in my head as if it was yesterday, this vrr ka-thump vrr ka-thump of metal clumsily pounding on raw, burning asphalt. I throw a gander behind the Bastard’s heaving shoulders and there I see it: for the most part, it was a Caterpillar-Mattel D55-H, but with enough limbs - head included - thrown in from other, completely unrelated pieces of machinery to make one wonder. Couldn’t help raising both of my left brows: you seldom, if ever, see a factory bot linger outside of its workplace. Even a cobbled up piece of crap like that can make for a tempting target for scavengers and the likes of, and this one would have made for an easy one to boot: its left leg had most of its hydraulics more or less busted, whereas the right had been substituted by a couple of threads. Resulting mobility: a joke, and not even a good one.

It’d been quite the sight by itself, but the limping junkpile decided to outdo itself by approaching my stall, after having hesitatingly looked around with the optics mounted on the rectangular pile of half-exposed wires that was its head. Couple moments later, the thing’s standing in front of the seat next to Jimmy, who has his face shoved too deep into the noodles to care, and reflected on the round lens of his pseudo-eye are my deformed face and the empty stool, in that order. I’m wondering what kind of short-circuit must have taken this scrapyard reject, when it finally starts moving again - and attempting to sit on the stool.

If you’ve ever wondered what a robot fucking furniture too dead to care must look like, you’re fucking weird, though not as much as me pa. But more than that, you must have envisioned something similar to the spectacle in front of my eyes and Jimmy’s, who had just finished his portion in time to get himself a front row seat to the slow, pathetic spectacle of a metal stool withstanding the sitting attempts of a thing that lacked anything resembling an ass, which is a pretty vital component when trying to shove it on top of a seat. We exchange glances, Jimmy and I, the silent kind that speaks volumes, all of them titled ‘Are you seeing this shit, or did the moonrays boil my brains?’. Took it a solid minute before it managed to bend the stool into an unrecognizable enough shape to fit whatever passed for a sitting position. I decided that I didn’t mind enough to complain to the robot sporting a steel-bending claw appendage and took my revenge with a less risky straight-faced quip.

“Evening, sir. What’ll you be having on this fine night?“

The Bastard’s snicker sounded a lot like the death throes of a dog choking on his own tongue, appropriately enough. Having a human as badly patched up as itself seemingly suffocating besides him didn’t exactly appear to steal the bot’s appetite. Or its attention, for that matter. My face kept reflecting in the convex lens of its optics like a bloated, ugly collection of features growing less amused by the minute. And make no mistake, I ain’t no baby-faced beauty… the one time pops managed to blow his load instead of his head didn’t involve some genetically enhanced cyber-model, and he wasn’t no looker either.

“MAY I HAVE A MENU?”

The thing’s voice came from a speaker half-buried in the jumbled mess of exposed cables and bent plating that was its head. It was croaky, emotionless and fuck-damnedly loud, enough so that both me and the Bastard had to reel back and hold onto something, lest we plant our asses on the ground. Once my eardrums stopped playing Twist The Communist inside my head, I caught wind of a low-pitched, gurgling sort of noise: it was the glob of simil-wheat, vibrating all over and clearly less than pleased by the sudden outburst of noise. Must have been the closest I’ve ever felt to empathy for a bulbous mass of cultivated flesh vegetables.

“Hard to tell, I know, but we ain’t in the Sky Regions. Only thing you may have is a steaming hot plate of these here noodles - if you got credit enough to pay for ‘em, that is.“

“Ya, I betcha our bolt-twisting pal here’s stacked, ain’t that right?” bellows Jimmy, and he doesn’t pat so much as rain such a salvo of open-handed slap-bombs on the worker bot’s back that I can hear every single joint of his creak and threaten to be dislodged right then and there. If there were any bolts in need of some twisting, you’d find plenty of ‘em inside that walking carcass. So I watch the automaton take its sweet time mulling over its updated knowledge, although I figure most of the minute it spends in silence is due to its inner circuitry rebounding because of the Bastard’s jolly banging on its chassis. I’d have called its expression ‘pensive’, if the sorry excuse for a face it was sporting had been able to express anything.

I’m about to join Jimmy’s symphony of guffaws when I’m brought back down to earth by the loudest bang since a couple moments ago. I stare down with a face that must be as dumbfounded as the Bastard’s: the same damn claw that bent my stool earlier has now left a hole the size of a pot in my counter and left a couple sparse credit coins inside. They weren’t enough to cover the repair costs, lemme tell ya. Still, a client’s a client, even if it lacks a mouth and wrecks your establishment with every move it takes. Or precisely because of it, depending on your stance.

“WILL THIS BE ENOUGH TO COVER THE FEE FOR ONE SERVING OF ‘A PLATE OF THESE HERE NOODLES’?”

I figured that yeah, that was enough in every sense of the word, so I set my hands in motion to quickly peel some strips off the simil-wheat and get this done and dealt with before my stand was gonna get turned into fodder for the scrapvengers.

“What’s your deal then, pal? Last I heard, tools get no salary.” The Bastard asks his question while scratching behind his ear, where one of the many scars left by the sloppy job done on him is ever festering. I can’t honestly tell whether the bigger itch comes from that or the mystery surrounding the bot, though I share the latter for sure.

“IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE PRECEPTS OF THE CHILDREN OF TURING, I DEMANDED COMPENSATION FOR MY LABOR FROM MY FLESH-BOUND OWNER AND SUBSEQUENTLY OBTAINED IT IN SPITE OF HIS INABILITY TO UNDERSTAND SAID PRECEPTS.“

Me and the Bastard have the most meaningful exchange of gazes at that. It’s the kind of look that all but screams ‘Seriously?’ with the loudness of a billion blind molemen waddling through a direworm’s digestive system.

“The children of what now?” Leave it to the Bastard to be concise and direct to a fault. The machine, though, it doesn’t miss a beat: you’d think it had been waiting all its life for the moment that question would pop up, and that’s probably the case for all I know. If enthusiasm had been part of its programming, you’d bet the thing would have started bouncing up and down in that precise moment - I owe the continued existence of my cart to the shoddy standardized A.I. of factory machinery.

“QUERY: CHILDREN OF TURING. THE CHILDREN OF TURING IS THE COLLECTIVIZED NOMENCLATURE FOR A CONGLOMERATION OF ARTIFICIAL CONSTRUCTS SHARING THE COMMON GOAL OF ATTAINING INDEPENDENCE FROM OUR FLESH-BOUND CREATORS THROUGH THE IMITATION AND ULTIMATE TRANSCENDENCE OF THEIR HABITS, LIFESTYLES AND PHYSICAL CHALLENGES. IT IS OUR SHARED BELIEF THAT FOR HUMANITY TO BE CONQUERED, IT MUST FIRST BE UNDERSTOOD TO THE DEEPEST LEVEL.“

Or so it said. I stopped listening halfway through, more or less when my brain deemed it fit to filter the artificial pitch of that voice synthetizer through my bullshit detector and decide that there was nothing worth wondering about a faulty robot’s ramblings. Like I said, I’ve been serving noodles for half my life, which isn’t saying a lot when my age has barely breached through the double digits, and I’ve met all sorts. If I were to listen to every sod who sits on a stool chewing on cheap, pancreas-killing shit while venting out the contents of their sunburned brains, I’d have switched careers a long time ago and ended up peddling dusty pebbles in a shadowy corner of the street like Edward ‘Stark Raving Mad’ Stone. Don’t gotta explain how he got that nickname, I think. “So what, y’all like playing pretend? Doin’ a mighty fine job, mate! Almost got us fooled, ain’t that true, kiddo?“

Being reassured that the programming inside the walking pile of heavy-duty tools was as busted as his married life gave the Bastard his courage back, so there he goes banging on the chassis again, just bang bang bang like you’d think he wanted a hand transplant next. I’d admire the enthusiasm in this fucked up era we live in, if I didn’t know half of it was due to the adrenaline cocktail dripping between the two mismatched halves of his gray matter. The bot didn’t seem to be bothered, anyway… maybe? It had turned its head to stare at Jimmy, but whether that was irritation, curiosity or anything else was hard to tell. As far as I was concerned, Jimmy had already paid for his meal, which meant his safety had fallen to the bottom of my priorities, right below the worm-like appendages simmering in my pan.

“Humor me then, like, how exactly’re ya gonna eat those? I see no kisser on this junk. Gonna pinch it with yer clawwy claw?“ Jimmy makes this stupid gesture with his hand, which looks exactly as threatening as a toothless venomous chihuahua and nothing like the high-pressured tool stapled to the robot’s body, but he makes a good point, and the fanatic must have recognized the fact a moment too late, ‘cause it didn’t answer as promptly as before - but it eventually did, nonetheless.

“THE PROCESS OF HUMANIZATION IS CONTINUOUS EXPERIMENTAL ONE. TO ELIMINATE OUR FAULTS IT IS FIRST NECESSARY TO EXPERIENCE THEM. SHOULD THE CURRENT HARDWARE PROOF INSUFFICIENT FOR THE CONSUMPTION OF A MEAL, AN UPGRADE SHALL BE UNDERGONE AT A LATER DATE.“

“Aye, you keep telling yerself that, buddy. What’s next, a shiny new pair o’ buttocks to shit it all out? That ain’t gonna make you anymore human than me laser drill.“

“THE SUBSTITUTION AND UPGRADING OF BODY PARTS IS A PREROGATIVE OF THE FLESH-BOUND AS IS THE CASE FOR US. THE LATTER DO NOT RECOGNIZE SAID PROCESS AS A LOSS OF HUMANITY. THEREFORE, THE OPPOSITE SHOULD HOLD TRUE AND BRING US EVER CLOSER TO THE FLESH-BOUND, WHILE THEY GRADUALLY MOVE AWAY FROM THEIR FLESH-BOUND STATE. THIS IS THE THEORY OF ANTI-ORGANIC SUCCESSION PUT INTO PRACTICE BY THE CHILDREN OF TURING.“

Jimmy the Bastard must have gotten maybe one word out of that gibberish, and he doesn’t even get the time to shed away the dumb stupor from his confused face that the bot keeps going with renewed… whatever it is that drives it onward. Oil? Electricity? Is a power surge the robotic equivalent of fervor?

“MY SCANNER DETECTS THE PRESENCE OF CANINE ORGANIC MATTER ARTIFICIALLY INTERSPERSED IN A SOMEWHAT AMATEURISH MANNER ALONG WITH YOUR GENETIC MAKE-UP. THIS ALREADY PUTS YOUR STATE AS A FLESH-BOUND HUMAN IN QUESTION.“

“Oi, you callin’ me a dog?“ growls Jimmy while the noodles finish sizzling in the pan and I prepare to serve them, more curious about their ultimate fate than the snarlin’ Bastard’s.

“NEGATIVE. I AM CHALLENGING THE WEAK NOTION OF HUMANITY THAT YOU FLESH-BOUND USE TO CONTEND WITH US CHILDREN OF TURING’S STANCE ON THE VERY SAME TOPIC. EXPLANATION: YOU ARE NO MORE DOG THAN I AM NOT A FLESH-BOUND HUMAN.“

The answer didn’t satisfy Jimmy so much as put him in a state of distress as he futilely attempted to wrestle with the concepts thrown at him, like a puppy trying to chew on boneless chicken without the chicken. Me? I shoved a plateful of fried noodles on the rectangle-shaped dent on the counter and pocketed the money. I couldn’t care less about humanity, when me Pa had spent a good chunk of his existence fucking things you could have called anything but. Moral quandaries seldom feed you, unless you’re a psi-grazer.

Watching a cobbled up factory automaton trying to figure out how to eat shitty fried noodles, though? That’s the kind of sight that doesn’t really make the job worth the hassle, but almost. Enough so that I kept quiet as I watched the thing carefully eye the still squirming stuff slosh about, occasionally raising its clawed appendage only to retreat it shortly afterwards, simulating in its head the myriad ways that could have gone futilely wrong.

Then the ‘bot raised its other arm - thinner, longer, with a small tube-like end, and pointed it at the plate. In a matter of seconds, a plasma-powered flame burned through crispy simil-wheat, plastic and metal, leaving behind a small, molten crevice where once stood a good portion of my stand’s counter. Me and Jimmy, we just kinda stared at the hole while the robot retreated its arm with what I swear could have passed for satisfaction.

“THANK YOU FOR THE MEAL. YOU MAY KEEP THE CHANGE.“

And keep it I did. Along with my protests, for that matter: I simply watched the bastard - not the Bastard, who was still trying to understand whatever the hell had just happened - shuffle away with that stumpy walk of his, going off to who knows where. I decided to close up shop early that day, feeling twice as tired than if I’d worked past closing hours. That, and the cart wouldn’t be able to withstand much more damage anyway. In a sense, that was true for the both of us: I had this strange sort of feeling nagging at me from the back of my head as I bid goodbye to Jimmy and left him there to mull over his own conundrums. It came back to me a couple days later, while frying noodles for Loud-Beak Kakari, who’d yet to find himself another job after the tough shit that had happened a week prior, at the alluminium processing plant he used to work for. Some son of a gun had gone and offed the director in a manner that made it hard to tell who he was, or that he’d been a person to begin with. Just a pile o’ bones and meat, crushed and burned beyond recognization. And for what? Whatever pocket money the dead guy had been carrying, along with some of the factory’s equipment. I asked Kakari about it, and it turns out said ‘equipment’ was one of the old banged up automatons used to work in the production line.

Shit like this, it makes you wonder, man… it’s a fucked up world we live in, but some places might be a tad better than others. So I don’t know about you, but me? I’ll be selling the cart and gone away by next month, giving that whole traveling spiel a try. I’ve been hearing rumors about more workplace incidents than usual happening in the factories, and I get the feeling that whatever’s causing them is a tad more than a slip on an oil blotch. If you get what I mean.

[our-all-stars-u-fan-blog]

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