March 12, 2005
the man who culd talk to umbarelas
i usd to knoawe a guy who discoavard taht he culd tlak to ombarellas. it came on all of a suden on a riany day. he was walkin dwon teh streat an he herd them talklin to ech othar an yelin at the ppl carying em: 'watch out u bunghoal dont wack me inta taht fat guy!' etc.
so he strated tlakin to em an getin theyre storeis. he siad mosly they we're resignd to there fate but a few here an theire yerrned for fredom an wuld stop at nothign to acheive it. life is brief an harsh for umberalas but they share a certain austere cameradery. aftar bad windstroms tehy wept for they're falen brothers.
ultimatly my frenid disapered. his boddy was nevar found.
they musta figurd he knew too much.
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I have an umbrella named Jason. At night, after I go to sleep, he beats up kittens and old people.
Not all umbrellas are nice.
Not all umbrellas are nice.
Living in England, one meets many umbrellas, many of which appear to be frustrated eye surgeons. Most of them also dislike wet or windy weather, and will fold up or blow away to get out of it as quickly as possible. I don't know where they come from, but wherever it is I wish we'd never colonised it.
I bet the umbrellas he spoke to said little but 'Kill, kill, kill'. They do not like people, and they are not in my country used for 'shade' (root ombre) but eyeball assault. Last conference I attended in Glasgow dispensed free BigPharma-labelled umbrellas, but I threw mine out. I've never used one, yet am still alive despite many years of being dampened by rain. It does not kill you, contrary to popular belief. It does spoil hairstyles, but who wants those anyway?
In Australia there is not much call for umbrellas, unless you live in Melbourne.
Mine lives in a cupboard, jostling for the other useless stuff and praying for rain.
Mine lives in a cupboard, jostling for the other useless stuff and praying for rain.
The click-whoomph of the action of a gent's push-button job is akin to the satisfaction of opening a well-made flicknife though. I can only begin to imagine the joy of owning one of those bulgarian poison jobs, let alone using it.
Whatever happened to the type that incorporates its own mini-precipitation system, so that when it's held over the head the user experiences their own private pluvial experience? This kind is quite common in cartoons but does not seem to be available to people like me, who enjoy the rain but are not particularly animated.
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