So, today, we are going to discuss the Good cop/Bad cop interrogation technique. Would you like that? Great! Let’s get started. For this technique, you need two cops, a small room and a suspect - that’s you! I’m good cop and I want to be your friend. Would you like to be my friend? Let’s be friends. Now that we are two friends in one room, we can learn about interrogation techniques.

More here…

Also, I wrote a short story about a moron trying to buy coffee. This one, sadly, is unavailable online, unless you are a reviewer on the flash fiction section of zeotrope virtual studio which is unlikely. Zeotrope appears to my rheumatic eyes to be something more than an online mouse pad for young scamps to dribble poetry on, like drugged up rascals.

I also entered the thing you can’t read into a short story competition, which I won’t mention either, because I am going to lose. In fact, you never read this paragraph. You were never here.

A small ad in today’s “Ark Times”:

Wanted, someone to build ark, then fill it with animals, including ducks.

When I answered, it turned out to be God.

“Today“, he said, “could be your lucky day. I need an ark, and fast.“

I told him that my ark building experience was somewhat limited. He asked how limited and I said that it was limited to landscape gardening, which is what I actually do. He said that didn’t matter, as I would have a huge incentive to get the work finished, which he’s not yet prepared to tell me about, but sort of maybe involves rain.

It was all going fine until I asked about the ducks. God got really angry and said, “I do hope you’re not going to argue about that, not like the last guy did.”. I said “No, no ducks are fine with me. It’s your money“. He seemed happier then. Told me he wants me to get started next week.

Now I just have to call in sick for a month. I’ll tell the neighbors it’s an art installation.

My name is I.C. Suckers, and I invented the daily power sneeze. Yesterday, I jetted into Indonesia by bicycle, to join a meeting of Indonesian Bloggers and suck up their vibes. It was a great opportunity for me to brain-dump my info-monkey on them, even though about 99% of them only spoke Indonesian and I don’t.

Heh - now that could have been a real inter-lingual communications spark freak disaster! But luckily one of them spoke Powerpoint and he was able to poke the others with his digital finger.

I got to meet Toby Jackson, the inventor of the spagback! We shook hands! It was keeewwwwel!

Indonesian Blog Meet Stats!!

• 100% of them wore shoes!
• Some of them had their hair combed to the left. That surprised me, as I know for a fact that hair combing is still in its infancy in Indonesia
• 20 of the wore suits, and 10 of those suits were dark blue. Now that was unexpected!
• About 57.32% had laptops, while 99% had laps. One guy had a laptop but no lap. So his laptop just dropped right through his legs. Mega heavy bad design. When will the makers of laptops learn that not everyone has a lap?

A quick wander told me that most of the laptops were switched to Google, but some of them were switched to CNN and one of them had Microsoft Outlook, Mega-Keewwwwel. The rest of them just hid their lap tops and asked me something angry in Indonesian. I had forgotten that in their culture, it’s rude to stare at a lap top. I apologised for this blunder and wrote a note about it on a napkin. If only I had brought my latest book - “How to Go to Indonesia and Not Look Like an Idiot. - only $99.99 through my web site“, I thought, hastily.

Back in my hotel room, I power ate a Krakatoa Special Meal for One, and I pondered the marketing opportunities for a shrink wrap that doesn’t actually stick to noodles. Then I ran around the room for a bit before falling asleep in the wardrobe. Great fun and definitely very keeewwwwel.

My name is I.C. Suckers. If you want more of me, enter your credit card details now.

At some low point in the 1960’s, the Beatles decided to put their power for harmony to the good of the planet. They recorded an album of their number one songs, re-written to emphasise the delicacy of nature and the importance of animals in general. The album was never released however, due to squabbling among band members.

Today, however, some of those re-written lyrics can be exclusively revealed. The song “There’s a Bee” is all about how, no matter what else happens, bees exist - and we should thank them for that. (The bees, not the Beatles).

There’s a Bee

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree,
there will be an answer, there’s a bee.
For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see,
there will be an answer. there’s a bee.
There’s a bee, there’s a bee…..

ah, fuck it.

My name is Mr. Conspiracy and nothing is real.

I’m taking a break from living underground and feeding on acorns for a moment to risk my life in an Internet Cafe (or at least that’s what they call it) just so that I can get this last desperate message out to the world.

Jesus. He didn’t die by accident. He was murdered.

Yes, I know it sounds unbelievable, and at first I thought it was too, but then I remembered the microwaves that cause people to think things that are not true.

Most people just go along with the idea that Jesus was betrayed in a garden, sold to the Romans and then crucified by accident by those same Romans. It’s by accident because, obviously, if the Romans had known he was Jesus they would never have crucified him. They would have just made him do tricks.

But Jesus was never crucified by the Romans. It was a lone nailman, working alone, with a nailgun, from the back of a hedge.

Look at the way he was nailed in. The nails are all over the place, at odd angles. There’s even a nail in his head, just at the back … and to the left - but they conveniently left that bit out of the bible. This is not the work of a professional army. Someone else was behind it. Maybe the Norwegian mafia, or maybe the RSPCA. Maybe we’ll never know

Got to go now, or they’ll trace the call. But think about this and tell the others.

I remember it was early. I was on my way to buy croissants with Ernest Hemingway. Or, rather, “hunt croissants”, as he put it.

“You’ve got to grab it firmly by the tongs”

said Hemingway as we turned into the Rue de Boulangerie.

“Get it into the bag quick. A croissant may look like an easy thing to get in a bag, but if you make a wrong move…”

The rest of his sentence was lost in the Parisian air. He was quiet for a while. Then he started again.

“I knew a guy once. Couldn’t get the croissant into the bag. He was careless. Got distracted by the eclairs. It only took a second. Slipped through his fingers and landed on the floor. Then he stepped on it. It was just there, on the floor. A dead thing. A flat pastry. Under his foot.”

We arrived at the bakery and went in. They’d sold out of croissants, so we just ate bread.

My name is I.C. Suckers and I’m here to help.

Live Your Story

What’s your story? Is it all about some poor little mouse with no money that’s too scared to get the cheese? Well, guess what, pal: WRITE A NEW GODDAM STORY!. This time make it about a mean motherfuckin’ mouse that goes out and kills all the other mice and then wins the cheese. Then live that story. It’s that easy.

I’m I.C. Suckers. If you want more of me, then send a cheque. I’m available for business functions, children’s parties and jumble sales.