The serene wisdom of crashing 1,000,007 comets into Earth on your first work day: today's TERRIBLE advice
FB’s “TERRIBLE advice” group nourishes GLORIOUS creative chaos. It’s funky. It’s fab. It ups life’s Good Bits. Do try some:
Becky asks
First day of my new job. I’ve hardly slept and extremely tired. How do I over come this? I don’t like tea or coffee.
My answer
Managers are generally fairly good sports about cutting first-dayers a bit of slack. You shall harness and abuse this.
Simply make your first day last literally forever. What you do is, you redirect ten thousand comets from the outer fringes of the Solar System. Arc them down from the Oort Cloud and collide them all into the Earth at once, in a great ring around the Equator, glancing side-on blows, shoving against the Earth’s rotation until a standard 360-degree rotation takes an entire year. Tidally-lock that sucker. If you’re unfamiliar with tidal locking, our own Moon does this too: its rotation period is the same as its year, so it always shows the same face inwards. Do this with Earth too, and the Sun will always remain in the same spot, all the time. Infinite daytime.
Finally, as the impacts’ life-strangling mushroom clouds snuff out all life on Earth forever, you can enjoy your job’s everlasting first day. Problem solved.
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2021/11/the-serene-wisdom-of-crashing-1-000-007-comets-into-earth-on-your-first-work-day-todays-terrible-advice
YOUR TURN
Fancy some boutique TERRIBLE advice of your own? Comment your question or dilemma, and I’ll magic up something deliciously wicked to put a smile on your face, just for you.
Further Reading: The SEXYVERSE NOVELS
IN A WORLD where wars are fought with romance and flirting and delicious erotic TENSION, the rivalries throbbing between history’s Great Powers have become a BUTTLOAD more bubbly, with fewer hideous massacres of musket and cannon, and OODLES more frisky cunnilingus contests:
The Sex Commandos Thwart The Third Vaginal Apocalypse
Part One: The Knights Of Raw Phwoar
Might Earth’s free nations drown under terrifying tornadoes of French femme-foam? Like hell, shout Britain’s Royal Marines Sex Commandos. Let’s assassinate France’s Imperatrix Brigitte Bardot! Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?
Part Two: The Soviet Sluts Superb
Turns out out-flirting Imperatrix Bardot is like trying to wank off Mt. Blanc when it’s wanking you back. Plan B: skedaddle, regroup, out-flirt the entirety of France and get loads more practice, then it’s stealthy-sneaky Round Two or bust.
Part Three: The Cervical Supremacy
Turns out flirting with every ladybro Rambo in France produces Rivals and Frenemies and Jilted Waifus galore. Smashing fun, but utter Kryptonite for Imperial kill-plans. Like, ever tried noshing off a world leader whilst a billion fanb0is fondle your buttocks? Want to? Read on!
Part Four: The Praetorian Prostitutes
The game’s up! The irresistible force of fanb0i-fondlemania has headbutted the immovable object of a gazillion furious Paris cops. They too thirst for Sex Commando patoot. Crunch time. Either launch one final rocket-strike against Bardot and France, or Earth’s free nations forever perish.
Part Five: [soon, baby]
Crave more bullshit laughs? Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED. And it’ll make me incredibly happy. You put yummy in my tummy, you know that?