giovedì, febbraio 24, 2005

Everything you need to know about Eddiegness

By Eddie G.

The word "Eddiegness" is usually said with the same tone of voice as one would say the word "Duuuuuude". In a nutshell, Eddiegness is high-profile lycanthropy. But what exactly is it and what spheres of mannerisms does it encompass? This post, which will touch on the 10 major "symptoms" (as well as the cure) of Eddiegness, will perhaps open your mortal eyes.

The 10 Major Symptoms of Eddiegness

1) Extreme talent

Not to put too fine a point on it, but if you find yourself capable of doing things others cannot and/or doing things better than what others normally can, why kid yourself by saying that you're normal? The hawk that chooses to fly with the sparrows will inevitably feel underachieved... not to mention hungry.

2) Unquestionable yet unconvincing intelligence

For many, it is easy to tell whether he/she has got the smarts or is a complete idiot. But for Eddie G., you can't always be 100% sure. More often than not, hE can be found doing and saying the dumbest of things at inappropriate times. The stark contrast is that just as you're about to pass it off as ordinary brainlessness, your 6th sense tells you that there seems to be a method in hiS madness, though hiS motives may remain unclear altogether.

3) Intolerance towards the incompetent

It's cold and lonely at the top, but that is something that Eddie G. cannot fathom. Imagine trying to explain that "one plus one equals two" to someone who just won't get it no matter how hard you try. That's what Eddiegness is about, only on an incomprehensibly larger scale. It can sometimes be extremely frustrating to see the ones you care about struggle with their problems while the solution is right in front of their noses making monkey-faces at them. Ironically, nobody - including Eddie G. himselF - is infallible, which probably explains why hE's so damn pissed with himselF most of the time.

4) Hatred for the self-righteous

Being self-righteous is believing that one does not need any damn help from anyone – a mentality which brings about needless condescension. The reason why this pisses The Eddie G. off so much because it goes against hiS belief that egoism, if legitimate, should be quiet but firm.

5) Constantly living in paradox

Take points 3) and 4) as perfect examples of being a living, breathing paradox. Striving to maintain a decent balance between the aforementioned points alone is already capable enough of causing a headache no amount of aspirin can possibly cure. While many believe that this sort of injury is self-inflicted, The Eddie G. can safely assure you that at hiS level, it is not.

6) Blatant disregard for authority

If you want to tell Eddie G. what or what not to do, you better be doing (or not doing) it as well. On top of that, you better do it well. If not, shut the fuck up and you might just realize that a self-governed Eddie G. might not be such a bad thing after all. In retrospect, hE only started using hiS middle finger after the teachers told hiM that hE wasn’t supposed to do so (they got the first one, of course). This principle does not apply to God because He is perfect in every way and also invented the cheeseburger. And since hiS parents took great pains to bring hiM, they too are excluded from everyone else. Within reason of course…

7) Singlehood

Quite self-explanatory; and ego-bruising. Moving right along…

8) Exclusive taste in music

If you think that by going up on stage in a group of five, sporting faggotish choreography and lip-synching to lyrics – that you neither wrote nor played – about your “white bourgeois lives” (as quoted by Weng my man) is music, you have no idea of the expletives the Eddie G. is waiting to hurl you with. In addition, some publicity stunts that artistes pull off (i.e. getting “two” nose jobs, bleaching your skin and sharing your bed with children) are relatively acceptable. Others (i.e. marrying some brainless turd for two days only to divorce him so that you can re-marry someone else) are inexplicably retarded. Eddie G. also listens to Chopin (pronounced “sho-pahn”). It’s well about time you bloody did so too.

9) Indifference to the opinion of others

What and how The World thinks about Eddie G. is totally impertinent. After all, the jealous and inferior you will always have with you. Hence, there really is no point in severing ties with every single dork who thinks you’re an ass because there won’t be anyone left to lick your boots when they finally come to terms with their pitiful ignorance.

10) Procrastination

Why put off something till tomorrow when it could be put off indefinitely? The only matters The Eddie G. will contemplate completing on time are the ones that are most profitable to hiM (i.e. total word count does not exceed that of 250). If truth be known, the piece of paper they call “The Degree” is more bought than earned in University. So since The Eddie G. has “paid” for it, why not sit back and enjoy the ride at the expense of your lecturers’ sanity?

The Cure for Eddiegness

Why would you want to find a cure for Eddiegness, you stupid wanker?

lunedì, febbraio 14, 2005

Sawto Voase

Sawto Voase
By Eddie G.

The window was wide open when I entered the bedroom. Of course, I hadn’t gone in through there. After all, only idiots who can’t even fathom the principle that underwear should be worn inside the tights come in from windows despite the fact that doors make that job so much easier. My apprentice plodded quietly behind me. The fact that the night air was still and humid probably explained why our client slept with his windows open. Perhaps it was also out of fear. Fear of… the unexpected.

“Bloody dark in here,” muttered my apprentice as he stumbled in.

“Shh!” I whispered softly but intensely, “remember what Rule 4(C) of the Handbook says.”

“Oh that’s right!” he replied, his volume dropping sharply, “‘Always speak in sawto voase’”

Sotto voce

“That’s what I said.”


I made a quick scan about the room which, lighted by the pale moon, had a gothic and dreary feel to it. My eyes squinted in the darkness, trying to single out some salient and noteworthy items. A family portrait hung precariously above the king size bed where our client lay snoring.

“Ah, brings back memories, doesn’t it?” I chuckled grimly as my gaze leveled on a stern-looking old man sitting squarely in the centre, “Lord Jonathan Winters, my former client. A very unpopular character indeed if memory serves. And here, lies his offspring and our current client.”

“All I see is Darkness,” intoned my apprentice solemnly.

“That’s because you’re hood's down, you fool! And whatever the hell are you wearing that for anyway?”

“I thought it was part of the uniform?”

Sure I’ve had my share of greenhorns in the past, but I was quite confident I could wash my hands behind the ears of this one.

“Take off that silly hood and listen up; it’s time for a pop quiz,” I ordered. “Rule 12(6) of the Handbook says ‘Take a quick check at the objects strewn about the clients’ room, so that you shall gain insight on his/her interests’. Why is this necessary?”

“‘So that the journey won’t be riddled with bouts of uncomfortable silence.’”

“Well done. At least you’ve been doing your homework,” I nodded in approval. Pointing to the gramophone by the side wall, I asked, “What does that tell you about our client?”

“Uh… he likes music?”

“Look closer, fool!”

“Oh… it’s only for display,” my apprentice realized after seeing the broken needle, “he must be a collector of sorts.”

“Close. He wants his peers to think him cultured and refined. As a result, most of his clutter of relics here are nothing more that white elephants. Take that grandfather’s clock for example,” I said while directing his attention to the corner where a huge towering clock sat, gathering dust and cobwebs.

My apprentice however was eyeing a bagful of sticks.

“What are these for?”

“Oh these,” I coughed, “he uses those to hit the ground and scream expletives while attempting to knock around little white balls. They call it ‘golf’, and every time he plays it, he gets a tad older and a lot grumpier.”

“Then why does he play it?”

“For leisure. Don’t stare at me like that. It’s not as if you’ve known humans for the first time.”

We spent the next few minutes probing around for more telltale odds and ends, each find having its own story to tell. Take for instance a cigar case with the word “Winters” engraved on it resting on a bedside table, a probable family heirloom handed down from one chronic smoker to another. And then there was a priceless Ming vase which our client was witlessly using as a spittoon. And then there was the thong. No comment.

“Alright. Time has expired,” I finally announced, “Do you want to give it a try this time or do you want me to show you how it’s done again?”

“Uh… once more if you don’t mind,” my apprentice pleaded.

“Very well,” I sighed, "But this time shall be the last!" Without warning, I raised my scythe and in one fluid slash, drew the soul of our client out of his body.

The soul of the sleeping man stared at us, and then at his body. In stunned silence, his mouth was wide agape, but did nothing more.

“I’m sure this won’t be easy on you Mr. Winters, but my apprentice here will fill you in on the nitty-gritty while we head for the nearest purgatory. This way please.”

As my apprentice ushered our client out of his former room, I took one last look around. The body of the last of the Winters lay motionless in its bed. Fate had long decided this family line to end in most abrupt fashion. That of course, was none of my business. As I turned to leave, the bag of golf clubs caught my eye once more.

I suppose I could use some work on my swing.