Giving your rubbish away

Giving your Rubbish Away ©

By Michael Casey

We give away our rubbish, and people are glad to receive it, ok we don’t actually give away our rubbish, what I mean to say is that we don’t waste our rubbish, we put it to good use. We use Charity shops, it is a waste if your children’s clothes go in the bin with little wear on them.

So we bag clothes up and I walk up the road and hand it over to the Charity shop volunteer, over here it is volunteers only the manager gets paid. If you have young kids they grow so fast so it’s a pity to bin what could be used again, items are practically brand new. When I grew up I had 4^th hand clothes until I got too fat for hand me downs, though I did enjoy wearing my mother’s dresses, dad had a nice evening gown which he wore to the steel works. Am I joking or is the famous British steel workers sense of humour, is it the same in Pennsylvania?

If my girls have a massive clear out the sacks can be too heavy to carry so I have to improvise. So I lay the items on the garden wall and try and entice passing parents to take away the jeans or coats or tops or even shoes that no longer fit our girls. If the fashion has changed then some items are quickly despised and so are available for passing strangers. No our girls   are NOT like that spoilt brat Pony wanting girl in Willy Wonka.  If you have your own girls you will understand, girls just need more clothes more often, just as your wife does.

Sometimes you spot a child wearing your daughters’ old clothes, it’s nice that somebody had the wear of them, it’s a sin to waste clothes as it’s a sin to waste food, share and share alike. As far as my old clothes go, that is a sight to behold, I’m XXL so if I send something to the Charity shop, it will either be used by a fat but not as beautiful man, I have to be honest after all, I am a George Clooney look alike, ok I did work in a law firm for 3 years, that’s my only connection. Or the Scouts buy my old coats and use them as tents up in the woods, or as kites. But at least my clothes have a new life, a kind of reincarnation.

So don’t lazy, don’t throw clothes in the trash as you say in USA, pass them on, somebody will love your old clothes. So please pass on your old clothes even copy me and put them on your garden wall this Fall.  Who knows perhaps Bill Gates may pass by, for we all knows he could do with some new threads or maybe just have his inside leg measured properly. 

for the future

for the future

well i updated to windows 10 anniversary update on the familt computer and guess what my mouse would not work any more.

back in may, 100 stories ago i found a guy in aldi who fixed it for me.
my usb ports dropped out too but came back again a week later.
so i’m hoping that will happen again or i meet the big guy in aldi again.
other than that  when i go through the 1,000,000 words barrier i’ll release a book called THE  FIRST MILLION WORDS OF MICHAEL CASEY
THIS WILL BE AFTER STILL SMILING 2017 SO IT’LL BE MY 12TH BOOK
3600 PAGES PLUS    spring 2017 maybe

3am Blonde on Blonde

3am Blonde on Blonde ©

By Michael Casey

I can remember 8 years ago when Obama was running   for election, now Hillary and Trump are after his job. Over here in UK the Birther thing seems ludicrous especially as its old stale news. The whole election seems a sad reflection of what was once a noble debate, we have a child shouting out his mother, well that’s what it sounded like to me. I listened live on the radio from my grandstand seat in my bed. I hope Trump and Hillary didn’t mind me naked in the audience.

Trump had the sniffles, maybe he’ll get a cold and have the day off. Its blonde on blonde, perhaps their hairdressers should mud wrestle and the surogate do the dirty fighting. Hair spray everywhere, a cloud of hairgrips and DANDRUFF everywhere, then the candidate with the best hair wins the Election.

Though it’s what’s in your head and heart that matters not what’s on top if I can alter King’s speech. So the hairdressers shouldn’t win it for either of them. Then last night Trump could not sleep, so at 3am he was on Twitter. If you cannot sleep at 3AM in a hotel you watch a film, the more expensive ones are the naughty ones. The bill discretely only shows price, not the title, I used to work in a hotel for 3 years so the reception team mentioned that one, not unless in USA its difference.

Trump  ranted about this and that, maybe he should have just rung his friend Putin, and they could have solved the world’s problems while Hillary slept like a baby or like a sheep, whatever metaphor they use in USA. In our house they sleep like pigs,  though Bay of Pigs was Cuba and Putin and Trump have Cuba in common. Trump   investigated doing a bit of business there while Putin’s grandfather tried to put missiles there. 

One thing I’m certain of, Putin wouldn’t be on Twitter at 3am, he’d be sleeping or making love to his gymnast 2^nd wife. If you own all the media then you always have high approval ratings, perhaps Trump should have bought some media and dumped his property portfolio, then he’s be as popular as Putin.

Boasting about being up at 3am, ready for any call, is a strange thing to boast about, an insomniac for President? I am up in the night frequently, due to pain, but I’m not on Twitter trying to slag   off my competitor at such an ungodly hour. Perhaps Hillary stole his stylist and that’s the root of all the bickering, it’s all a big girl fight over a hairdresser. Screw being President you stole my stylist you bastard.

Putin does not need a hair stylist, so he could not be the President of the USA, perhaps if he had hair transplant surgery like Rooney then Putin could run for President of USA. But then Trump and Hillary would unite and say Putin was a Birther  Bastard until Putin produced a Birth Certificate saying he was born in Alaska just next  door to Sarah Palin.  Then the Inquirer would prove that Sarah Palin and Putin were brother and sister. So in 2020 Putin becomes President of Socialist USA.

  

Tears from a Clown

Tears from a Clown ©

By Michael Casey

Let My Tears Be My Words are the first words from a poem of mine, which I’m told is very touching, the words even made a Vicar cry, Priests are much tougher as they’ve heard more Confessions. So this morning I was doing my usual routine, counting how many rubbish emails I get trying to destroy my computer. How many religious people of many faiths who were dying and wanted my help in moving 1,000,0000,0000, 000 USD if only I sent them 10 quid first in 1p coins in an old sock, and they would pray for me. The amount of folks who have stepped on the fast train to Hell is unbelievable.

So I though what should I talk to you about today, and I had no idea, then while I was thinking of plot lines for Tears for a Butcher, my next full length comic novel, which is the follow up to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, while I was thinking of that a tear came to my ear, sorry eye, only Picasso has tears to his ears. So that gave me the idea to talk about tears. And yes Tears from a Clown, would be one description of myself.

So what makes you cry, the quality of my writing? You are all so cruel, you will make me cry now, if you knew the years of training I had before I could stand here naked before you. Ok I’m not naked, it’s a figure of speech, and no none of you would enjoy looking at my naked form. And yes that does make me cry, the years of kebabs and fizzy pop been wasted on your unsophisticated eyes, you would not know a great form if you saw one.

But I was side-tracked, what makes you cry? Is it the size of your pay check or the snubs you get from the girls of your dreams  who won’t go out with you because your pay check is so small. I know a man who wanted just one simple thing, to be  married and perhaps have a family. This man had loved a girl but she had not loved him, they had been friends but no more. Then one evening her mother died, they had just been to dinner and were due to see Les Miserables at the theatre, only a call came and his Cinderella had to go away.

She rung him, her mum had died, and no she did not need his help, she was prepared already. So there he was all alone, the penny had dropped, she would never be his. So perhaps full of self-pity, you can judge, the man cried, and looking up at the photo of his dead mum by the fridge made a heartfelt prayer. All I want is to be married and perhaps have a family.

No Fate is a strange thing a very strange thing. The  previous year the man had met a model a real life model in the Czech Republic while he was staying with the friend of a friend, a Gay doctor. It’s all in a Czech Story you may find it on the Internet. So this blonde model came to Birmingham and he taught her English for a month, then she went back home, never to be seen again.

So now it was a year further on, and this Joyce Grenfell like girl did not want him either, hence the tears of a clown. Now God has a sense of a humour so God heard the man’s prayers, where would the man meet the girl of his dreams? The man would meet his future wife in the only place the man visited every single day, every single day for 3 years.

His mother had died and 8 weeks later his dad had almost died, hymns had been picked for his dad’s funeral. It’s all in Padre Pio and Me on the Internet somewhere. So after his prayer by the fridge a takaway girl appeared, a little Chinese girl. He still had dreams of his Joyce Grenfill  girl, but in the end the Chinese girl won his heart, she turned out to be 10 times prettier than the Czech model.

So the man had tears of joy, his prayer by the fridge had worked, he found a bride and 2 daughters followed. And if you are wondering if this is another of my stories, and I have reached over 830 now. Then no this is no story, this is my life and it’s the story of how I finally got a wife. 

So if you want to dry those tears and banish all those fears, try saying your prayers by the fridge with your mother next to you for support. And if you don’t have a mum nor a fridge, then just pay a visit to Iceland the shop not the country.

Cyber Security

Cyber Security ©

By Michael Casey

My brother said try computers, so I did and got a job as a computer operator, this was back in 1978, yes 1978 I really am that old, or rather my Birth Certificate is. In my head I’m 20, though the state of my organs says I’m 95, but still very very cuddly. But enough of my sex appeal, I’ve been watching this Cyber Security disaster for a few years now, and it really IS terrible.

Hello Love, I’ll be home late, I’ve left the house key under the Tony Blair garden gnome, you know next to the Trump gnome, of course nobody can hear me, where am I, in the pub, I need a few beers, that’s why I’ll be late home. So what happens? You are robbed.

Computer security is very important, especially as it controls everything nowadays. Back in 1978 our computers, DEC PDP 1170s for the computer Historians out there, controlled just a small amount of data, Market Research into Alcohol Sales. It was a job for life, well 21 years of my life. The computers could not be hacked then, the word was not even thought of let alone invented, and as for being actioned on, well it would be really  really advanced and unbelievable science fiction, total fiction.

We’ve all seen War Games years and years ago, a back door lets a kid play with MAD, mutually assured destruction, a kid gets control of the world’s nuclear war computer controls. It’s a great film, the back door was opened by a password based on the inventor’s dead daughter’s name, film buffs can correct me if I’m wrong. The point being that back doors allow evil people to get control.

Of course our computers are super dupper, the best in the world, forget the Cray, ours is better. And nobody can ever hack it. Then an autistic kid in England hacks into it, and the USA wants to extradite him and put him 1 mile down in a jail for 100 years. If it was me, I’d give the guy a job, and a tour of Nasa, he was looking for Area 51 and Aliens, instead he’s hounded through the Courts. Empty Pride means you fail to accept the fact that your computers are hackable. Eat humble pie and give the hackers jobs as security experts, remember Catch Me if You Can?

Computer security or lack of it can cause companies to fail, stock markets to crash and governments to fall. It’s not fantasy football with a few quid bet on the side its billions upon billions, or more importantly people’s lives.

So please can we unplug the phone to infrastructure and air traffic control, and not use mother’s maiden’s names as passwords. All companies that get hacked should pay huge fines that really hurt. I would even go as far as saying they must  not be allowed to keep your financial details at all, yes it’s a pain having to type stuff in each time you buy online, but if they companies cannot prove in advance that they are secure, then better safe than sorry.

There should be a 10million dollar prize each year for cyber security inventions, and all companies should be forced by law to attain standards. A GCSE in computer security is not good enough in today’s world. Company directors should go to jail and pay huge fines if and when their customers are hacked. People used to have floppy discs stuck to filing cabinets with magnets, and not understand why the floppy discs don’t work anymore.

So please can we remove keys from under Trump garden gnomes, can we unplug critical functions from the telephone network. And let’s use the best minds to improve cyber security, even if they are Autistic British hackers looking for Aliens. 

In England in was a Gay man who broke the Enigma Code, perhaps the future is crying out for left of field people to guide and protect the future of the world itself.

Obviously fat writers from Birmingham with a quadruple heart bypass and arthritis would be utterly useless as cyber security personnel, but “strange” people can be the heroes in today’s computer world. So employ a few strange people and improve cyber security before the world comes to a halt. 

and bonjour a toute la monde en la belle France merci pour lire mes mots comic est vous M.Holland?