The Cliffs of Insanitweets

( random mutterings of the mentally unstable )

Two Alpacas

Gotten from here.

THE “TWO-ALPACA EXPLANATION” OF WHAT MAKES…

A CHRISTIAN: You have two alpacas. You keep one and give one to your neighbor.

A COMMUNIST: You have two alpacas. The government seizes both and provides you with fleece.

A FASCIST: You have two alpacas. The government seizes both and sells you the fleece. You join the underground and start a campaign of sabotage.

A REPUBLICAN: You have two alpacas. Your neighbor has none. So what?

A DEMOCRAT: You have two alpacas. Your neighbor has none. You feel guilty for being successful. You vote people into office who tax your alpacas, forcing you to sell one to raise money to pay the tax. The people you voted for then take the tax money and buy an alpaca and give it to your neighbor. You feel righteous.

DEMOCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE: You have two alpacas. The government taxes you to the point you have to sell both to support a man in a foreign country who has only one alpaca, which was a gift from your government.

CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE: You have two alpacas. You sell one, buy a stud, and build a herd of alpacas.

BUREAUCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE: You have two alpacas. The government takes them both, shoots one, shears the other, pays you for the fleece, then composts the fleece.

AN AMERICAN FARM: You have two alpacas. You sell one, and force the other to produce the fleece of four alpacas. You are surprised when the alpaca drops dead.

A FRENCH FARM: You have two alpacas. You go on strike because you
Want three alpacas.

A JAPANESE FARM: You have two alpacas. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary alpaca and produce twenty times the fleece.

A GERMAN FARM: You have two alpacas. You reengineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and shear themselves.

AN ITALIAN FARM: You have two alpacas but you don’t know where they are. You break for lunch.

AN INDIAN FARM: You have two alpacas. You worship them.

A RUSSIAN FARM: You have two alpacas. You count them and learn you have five alpacas. You count them again and learn you have 42 alpacas. You count them again and learn you have 12 alpacas. You stop counting alpacas and open another bottle of vodka.

Let's play a game...

You give me a word or two and I'll include it/them in as strange a sentence as I can muster or maybe even a tiny tale. I'm bored and blocked, so help me out here.

And pass this on to all your buddies so they can join in. Comments are open to all.

Iran

1979 was the year I became aware of Iran for a couple of reasons. 1) The Iranian Revolution and the hostage crisis and 2) Michael Nouri. I 11 years old, in love with a Vampire of Iranian descent, and watching in horror as a people fell into disarray and carried my country along with it for a while. It's because of what happened in Iran that America was subjected to Reaganomics, and we've yet to recover from that, actually reaping the dread benefits of trickle-down greed right now with Great Depression Part Deux. This was the year I began keeping a diary, and I was sure to make note of what was going on in Iran and how many days the hostages had been detained.

In those days, all the news you got was either from newspapers, magazines, or network television. I believed everything I saw in those days. I knew nothing of the propaganda machine that is utilised by every human government, even the so-called 'free' ones. It would be 5 more years before my eyes were opened to such dystopian thought-forms and I would turn into a member of the Lone Gunmen. At the time, I was led to be believe that Iranians were pretty much mad dogs and that Michael Nouri was of Iranian descent. I was at odds with my pre-pubescent self.

As the years trudged onward and I grew up, I realised that not everything...okay, nothing that's reported by way of official sources can be trusted. I learned to differentiate between a people and its government and I came to realise that humans are all the same, and that we pretty much suck. But that's beside the point for this post. This isn't a misanthropic rant, for once! I also learned that Michael Nouri is of Lebanese descent. It doesn't matter either way; he'll always be my beloved Count Dracula, playing "Midnight on Moscow" on the grand piano.

So here we are 30 years later. I've changed to the point of being unrecognisable to my 11-year-old self, except for the fact I still love Michael Nouri. My faith in humanity has been sorely damaged to the point of being non-existent. Then, here come the Iranians. And, because of the Internet, we're getting to see what's really going on over there in the Cradle of Civilisation. We're witness to their struggle for freedom and their absolute refusal to give in to the Status Quo. I'm quite frankly amazed and humbled by what I've seen. And, honestly, the Iranian people make me think their might be hope for us yet. My only question is, why didn't the American people do this in 2000? I've been asking that for days now. Kinda makes you wonder who truly appreciates and is willing to fight for freedom and who caves under the weight of complacency. But that's yet another rant for another post.

For now, I just want to throw my fist into the air and offer my war cry in support of the Iranian people. You're wonderful, beautiful, and inspirational. The world is behind you!