One of the major failings with the Ubermind’s plan to protect the world from the Alien menace is that a cat’s brain, even one that has been nanotech enhanced really isn’t that big, plus they tend to get distracted by shiny things and anything the moves quickly near them. In order to try and make space for information on building invisible vehicles and ray guns the Ubermind radically reduced the English language, stripping out syntax and generally mangling it as required. Even so your average LOL-Cat is still not amazingly gifted with intellect, tending to rely on luck and manic energy instead, the little brain power they do have is represented by their Smarts stat.

And

Generally LOL-Cats are Atheists, they know they were created by the Ubermind and why. But some have had the truth of the Flying Spaghetti Monster revealed to them, they know his Noodley Goodness touches everything in the universe. A Noodlista can focus his mind to ask for aid from his God, by moving items, clouding others minds or other manifestations.

Plus

Thus it was that another ‘scientific research’ mission was sent to Earth, in fact the Vashtari came hoping to get more ideas from Earth and it’s unique inhabitants. While they had already become the wealthiest race in the galaxy, they needed more and they hoped to find things that they’d missed in their first reconnaissance. They did learn a number of new ideas, such as strip mining, mortgaging and repossession, the power of monopoly and just how much politicians love money. After a few years on Earth though they realised they were getting less and less done. More than half of the crew were spending most of their time watching television programmes, either live or those recorded and stored in the ship’s archives. Studies were made, hampered by when the entire medical staff started watching ‘I Love Lucy’ a few months into the proceedings, which eventually found that television programmes as well as being horribly addictive, caused long term brain damage to all normal Galactic races. The humans bizarre brains seemed to give them some measure of protection.

I promise I wasn’t smoking anything.

I've never really been an audiophile so I don't really know anything about it. Assume I only use my phone to surf the web, play games and listen to Radio 4… oh and occasionally make phone calls.

I got annoyed and this dropped into my head fully formed. Enjoy. The Man. Jose The Maitre d' took one look at the man who had just walked through the door, taking in the faded track suit and the tape …

OK. A small bit of explanation here. Apparently someone with a Pinterest took this DORK TOWER comic and made THIS with it.
Which is all fine and cool and everything – well, except for the unattributed part. And it looking like carp, and everything.
Anyway, I’m all for folks playing with my stuff, but I’d rather it didn’t look awful – and that there was attribution – before they go mini-viral, which this has. It’s gotten thousands and thousands of…

The Man

Jose The Maitre d’ took one look at the man who had just walked through the door, taking in the faded track suit and the tape on the trainers, and began shaking his head.

“I’m sorry sir, we’re fully booked.” He began before the dishelved figure could get a word in.

“It’s about the job.” he mumbled, liking his cracked lips and looking done. If he could afford a hat, like a proper gentleman, he would be turning it in his hands.
Jose’s head began to shake faster as he overrode the words, he had to get this broken attempt at a person out of her before tonight guests arrived. His hand touched the big red button on his touch screen,
security would be here soon.

“There’s nothing available I’m afraid.” he said, his politeness overlaid with a supercilious sneer that oozed the words, for the likes of you. But rather than leaving the man looked up, his eyes full of despair,
the eyes of someone with nothing left to lose. Jose took a breath and swallowed. “Ah…. that job.” He motioned to the large men, no point remembering their names half the time they couldn’t,
“Take this gentleman to see Marcel.” he said. The man followed the guards, his face torn between a smile and a grimace. Jose tried to stop his mind from following him by wondering if he’d need to get the cleaning staff in.

Marcel walked around the man, looking him over and nodding. The room was quiet but imposing and as he stood there, trying to impress the words started to bubble out.

“It’s the cuts you see, got no job since they out sourced my work and my kids have nothing.” Marcel nodded, and prodded the mans gut, a life time of cheap food had made it’s mark. “I need to provide something for them, a chance.”
Marcel smiled, he was perfect he waved to get the mans attention, the verbal stream died away. The hunger on the mans face was papable, a churning need masking a terror a multitude of terrors.

“You’re perfect, we’ll get James in with the paper work but I think you’ll be just what I’m looking for.” The man swallowed, the question he wanted to ask was written in words of fire across his face. “I think we can go to 500,000
maybe three quarters of a million, it depends.” said Marcel. At the he broke down crying, falling to his knees and thanking the chef, Marcel took a step back from the grasping hands and quickly left the room, shuddering slightly.

“Now sir, just a few legal formalities. You’re aware that the final sum will not be know for a while? Good. Sign here for that.” the lawyer was the everything a modern man should be, smart retro victorian suit, shaved head
with the telltale light marks of electro tattooing that said “I’m sensible now, but when I let my hair down I’m a Maori warrior…” and pitch black contacts feeding data from his mobile. He worked through the paper work, pointing
to areas that needed initialed and signed. “Finally we have the consent form, I need to read this out and have to agree to it, it’s in the law. Do you…” he quickly flicked his eyes to the side before reciting the mans name ” agree
that you are under no coercion? That you undertake this procedure of your own free will with the full understanding it will lead to your death?” The man nodded and reached for the pen, his hands shook has he signed, the lawyer shook
his hand and then left. The man sat alone in the room for a moment, feeling the comfortable chair against his body, then the door opened again and a young lady in a nurses uniform open it and beckoned him to follow.

The three bankers in their sharp suits, electro tattoos currently a muted brown, laughed and tried to out do themselves in the jokes they told the girls they where escorting. Jose smiled as the bills changed hands and a table was
suddenly found to be available.

“Why yes gentlemen, we of course the house speciality is available we’ve got some fresh meat in. I’d advise the rump, it’s quite deliicious.”

Anyway I’m sort of approaching 40, not really fast it’s over a year away but at my age you can sleep through that without noticing. OK it’s called, having a day job and paying the bills, but it’s functionally similar to sleeping so I’ll go with that. With the oncoming storm on the way I’ve been looking at my life and laughing the maniacal laugh of someone who has reached the edge of the pit of sanity, you laugh because crying seems too easy.

Lets start that again shall we, the bleak is getting a bit too strong, last night I wrote some words. Feel free to go read them. I mentioned that I learned two things in school. The second thing I learned is that Authority cares nothing for you. Those that are supposed to protect you couldn’t care less and if you spoke up you would be punished. I probably wasn’t supposed to learn this but I did. It’s kind of fueled my world view since, and made me into the sniveling worm that now graces the world.

You see I have this fear of Authority, which is basically how it’s supposed to work. You don’t commit crimes because you’re afraid you’ll get caught and hurt. Not locked up, that does frighten me, it’s the beatings. As I am an old person they were still allowed to use corporal punishment in school when I was there and I now have a certain level of belief that I’ll getting beaten up if I do things wrongs. Add to this my general dislike of cool people it’s a wonder I’ve managed to survive this long really.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah. I’m not who I wanted to be, mainly because I’ve been waiting to get permission to do what I wanted. And by the time I worked out that’s not how it works,that you have to go out and grab it I was so stuck into a rut (and buried there with a pile of debt) that I was screwed. In my heart, or the tortured soul where the sobbing comes from, I’m a writer. I like words and I like stringing them together to paint pictures in your mind. Maybe not nice pictures, but the world isn’t a nice place.

So…

I’m trying to exorcise some of this, there’s a lot of it but I hope I can get it sorted. Maybe make it less rambling. Stranger things have happened.

Anyway we had a BBC B computer at my school, for the youngsters among you this was slightly less powerful than a watch. One time I wad working on a program to play the number guessing game. You have to guess the number the computer has picked with clues and such like. It was really quite impressive for an eight year old. I got to stay in at lunchtime to work on it, which was nice because I wasn’t really a fan of playtime. Too many games involved pain… anyway. 
Another boy in the class had also written a similar program, with the slight flaw that it crashed whenever you put in an answer. He decided that I had copied him so figured I should be taught a lesson. Now I was a fan of lessons, except the ones that involved a bunch of other kids kicking the crap out of me.

That was thirty years ago and I still remember what I learnt. Work hard and apply yourself and a bigger boy will kick you in the nuts. And laugh.

Funny really.

I should put it behind me but I don’t know how and it’s just the nub, the tip of the festering boil of anger that is my main legacy from my school days. It’s why I tend to dislike sport and those who like it for instance.

I’m fed up. And tired. But there is a cat sitting on me because that’s her favourite place to sit. And this helps a little.

Ho hum.

A lot of people commented, many along the lines of “I’m only friends with weird people” and such like. I though I should take the time to explain what I meant.

It’s my fault really, I forgot that many if the people I know have been in the same place I have. Forced by life and circumstance to grow up with people who view any kind of deviation from the norm, any weirdness, as something to be reviled. So we take weird as a badge of honour and wear it with pride.

I wasn’t saying weird was bad I was saying people who think it is are. I moved hundreds if miles away from where I grew up and have never felt the urge to go back. I was lucky to have great open minded parents and a brother who I couldn’t stand and I now love deeply. But I couldn’t stand it down there again.

I’m rambling, I do that sometimes, the point I was trying to make was you can choose your friends, don’t choose those who want to hurt to because they don’t understand you.

11 years ago my mother died. Her funeral packed out the village church and the party afterwards filled our pub to bursting. She had a knack for making friends but didn’t judge them. I miss her still… this last year has been “interesting” and things are starting to look up. I know she’d accept my decisions and give me a hug when I needed it.

So pick your friends and tell those who wish to judge you to fuck off and have fun. Enjoy your life, it goes all too soon.