On bombarding all sires of secret love-children with: Covid, the Duke of York, SARS, the Mayor of London, Ebola, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Bubonic Plague: today's TERRIBLE advice
FB’s “TERRIBLE advice” group births GLORIOUS creative chaos. It’s funky. It’s fab. It ups life’s Good Bits. Do try some:
Mia asks
My dad lives alone in Thailand and has been very ill with Covid. He’s now not replying to us and his phone seems to be off. We are super worried. We reached out to his ex to ask her to do a welfare check but aren’t hearing back. What do?
My answer
You're anxious to zap dear ol' Dad back into vigour and action?
I know just the thing. Ever heard of the https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berners_Street_hoax?
For those who can't be bothered clicking on that link, in London in 1809, Rich Moron 1 laid a bet with Rich Moron 2 that Moron 1 could transform a random London house of Moron 2's choice into the most talked-about house in London, for an entire week.
Moron 2 agreed. Moron 1 then spent considerable time and money placing delivery orders with damn near every trade and business in the city: chimney sweeps, cartloads of coal, wedding cakes, doctors, lawyers, vicars, priests, fishmongers, shoemakers, piano makers, organ makers, eminent personalities (Governor of the Bank of England, the Duke of York, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Mayor, all of whom were responding to apparently apocalyptic emergencies at this single address). You name the craft or trade, a specialist had received a massive order with delivery requested to that address.
The whole lot all turned up at once.
The traffic was unbelievable. After some hours, groups of policemen had to form cordon lines around the neighbourhood, to block and turn away further dozens of cartloads of industrial materials and products and services and personnel and luxury goods, still arriving all afternoon at this single address. Crowds and onlookers choked the entire suburb for days. Total pandemonium.
You should totally do the same thing with your dad.
Contact every eminent biologist/virologist/bacteriologist in the world. Inform them that your dad is the world's greatest and most secretive researcher of pathogens (that's why you'd never heard of him). His high esteem and endorsement has been known to make or break careers. If these esteemed scholars were to, shall we say, help him out, by either mailing him incredibly virulent and/or dangerous pathogen samples, or better still, by turning up to Thailand in person and lobbing bio-grenades through his home's windows, they would have his eternal gratitude, which, take it from his offspring, you, is a mighty rare currency these days. His gratitude's absence has been known to manifest as slit-throats, minimum, so they'd better bombard him with thousands of samples apiece if they know what's good for them.
But absolutely wield both carrot and stick: hint that sufficiently horrible Covid variants might just earn the originator the next Nobel Prize. Now send out those letters in their thousands and let the pathogen-science world get to work.
Your dad won't know what hit him. If you've got siblings, tell the pathogen-scientists to sign their horrid airborne gifts with LOVE AND KISSES FROM [NAME] to get the heat on them and away from you. If you don't have siblings, just pick twelve names at random, then accuse your dad of fathering vast hordes of secret love-children behind your family's backs. Oh look! His heinous indiscretions have earned him a gazillion delightful dollops of Super-DUPER-Covid or something, God works in mysterious ways, right? RIGHT?
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2022/9/on-bombarding-all-sires-of-secret-love-children-with-covid-the-duke-of-york-sars-the-mayor-of-london-ebola-the-archbishop-of-canterbury-and-the-bubonic-plague-todays-terrible-advice
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Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
A goddess so magnificent melts before MOI? I'm phenomenal! Plus further ego-stroking manipulative bullshit: today's TERRIBLE advice
“"a goddess so magnificent melts before moi?" may be one of the funniest descriptions of male ego I've read in a while.”
FABIO: betas and twinks and supple squishy femme-b0is: the microplastics to my asbestos, yet here’s why we MUST nourish ALL raunch appetites:
“The comparison of 'supple squishy femme-b0is' being the microplastics to Fabio’s asbestos is top-tier. You’ve captured that exact point where the 'overlords' just swapped one extreme for another and called it progress. I respect the call for a world where there’s 'oodles of room' for all appetites ... I’m locking into your frequency because it’s rare to find this much grit and humor in the same room.”
Mt. Doom vs Chernobyl, billions of twitchy-schnozzed squirrels, and ceramic/asbestos rigor mortis: today’s TERRIBLE advice
“This "Sexyverse Advice" piece is a wild ride through a chaotic, creative landscape that feels like it’s built on a foundation of pure "Terrible Advice." The contrast between the apocalyptic imagery of Mt. Doom and Chernobyl and the surreal visual of "twitchy-schnozzed squirrels" creates a sharp, funky friction. It captures that exact moment when the "Good Bits" of life are found in the most unpredictable and glorious messes.”
Bullshit Banquet: the SEXYVERSE NOVELS
*ahem*
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]
Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED.
Bullshit Emeritus: 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. You put yummy in my tummy, you know that?