I was thinking about assumptions and how we all make them.
I’m sure that anyone who has ever read any of my bizarre, nonsensical, inane, lengthy, vociferous, long winded, rambling bullshit before probably assumes I am a bit of a nutter one step away from being sectioned.
And that assumption would be wrong.
I have already been sectioned. I write all this shit from my lovely rubber room on the second floor of Madame McDermott’s Home for the Delirious and Dazed.
It’s quite nice here actually. The food’s nice, the rooms are clean and the beatings are only twice daily.
They let me out on the moors once a week so I can pursue my hobby of dressing up in a Godzilla suit and stumbling around going; “Wheeeeee-bob-wally-bob!”
I am allowed to scare as many hikers as I can find. They positively encourage that. They say it gives the place an ‘air of mystery’.
I don’t really have much interest in scaring folk, it’s all about wandering around screaming “ohhh noooooo! Gozirrrrraaa!” in a faux oriental voice for me, but I don’t mind doing my bit to help the cause.
Especially if it gets me an extra jelly cup at dinner.
And……….I am allowed to have sharp things!
As long as they are made of foam.
I digress.
I was thinking about assumptions and how we all make them.
How at first glance, a situation looks one way, but without all the pertinent information surrounding the situation, that situation can easily look like a completely different situation…situation.
Like that time I was arrested for treason.
According to the filth I was inciting a riot and attempting to blow up parliament. As far as I am concerned I was just waving a pineapple in a slightly threatening manner to express my displeasure at a world gone mad.
My point is, we can all be guilty of this from time to time.
Assuming the guy with a face full of tattoos is a nutter when he could be 1/200th Maori or have some weird, skull and spider web based skin disease.
Assuming the smelly woman in the shop is dirty when in fact she has a ferret smothering hobby and not much time to bathe between that and having to run a shop 24 hours a day to stay afloat because the big supermarkets have killed her business.
That sort of thing.
You know what they say, to assume makes a cunt out of you and that other guy you met in Debenhams when you were both trying to buy the same pair of shoes.
Words to live by indeed. There’s so much truth in those old sayings.
Anyway, I came across this screenshot of a bunch of messages on a phone.
It is implied that the person sending the message is an asshat. He is sending lewd and aggressive messages to a woman and being rightly pulled to pieces by the faceless internet people. You know the kind of thing.
But, by a staggering coincidence, I actually know the guy sending the messages and the truth of the matter is far from what the majority of people will read into it because they don’t care enough to take the time to read between the lines or see another point of view.
Sven Lagerswillductssonsson, the guy who sent the messages, was distraught when I showed him the post.
I have spent the last four hours consoling him with the ancient Viking tradition of twatting him repeatedly around the chops with a large fish. It didn’t do much to change Sven’s mood.
Even when I resorted to the sturgeon, which usually has him in stitches and literally pissing himself.
I only ever usually do that at his house so I don’t have to clean the mess up. But this was an emergency cheeringupectomy so I thought it was worth the risk.
The fish gunge is bad enough but when three litres of piss from a guy whose diet consists of beer and fish and nothing else is added to the foul mix, you got a real problem on your hands.
Sven told me the true meaning of the messages and I think it should be a lesson for us all.
Firstly, let me give you the messages as they appeared on that Facebook post then I will give the actual definition of those messages as well as some background which will explain why those messages seem so crude.
“Hi Betiful”
“U thare?”
“Send meow pic if you thare”
“Vagne pic”
“???????”
“U R my pussy cat doll.”
“Please send bobby for 34000 rupees maam.”
“Bloody slutwhore father fuck SEND NAKDE PIC NOW I ASK MANY TIME”
“Please send it. Dying frm cancer…,1 last wish to see ur bob then I take off life support…so can die in peace.“
“Ok I dead now fuck you bich bye nevr contact me again…”
Sven and his great aunt, Betiful Lagerswillductssonsson, are not lovers of technology, preferring talking face to face and only resorting to their phone when there is no other choice.
Because of this and their familiar nature, they have developed a kind of short hand for using text messaging to communicate. This results in very succinct, to the point, quick messages that may make little sense to anyone outside the Lagerswillductssonsson family and an intimate knowledge of their daily lives.
I hope everyone who reads this will take the time to shave a pheasant, wait…
Not that.
I was thinking of something else.
Sorry.
I hope everyone will take this lesson to heart and not make assumptions in the future. That way, maybe the world can become a little bit nicer to live in.
0.0000000000023% nicer is better than the same shit we already have going on right?
Ain’t that the truth?
Sing it brothers and sisters.
Testify.
And stuff.
Amen.
On to the messages themselves and the translation for all those assumey evil people who cast poor old Sven as a pervy pants.
“Hi Betiful”
Sven’s Great Aunt, Betiful.
Betiful and her great nephew had recently discussed Betiful buying a kitten.
“U thare?”
‘thare’ – an ancient Norse word for buying a kitten.
“Send meow pic if you thare”
Send a picture of your kitten if, indeed, you have just bought one.
“Vagne pic”
The two had previously discussed calling the new kitten ‘Vagne’, which means ‘the furry one who shits in shoes’.
“???????”
Sven spills warm Pepsi on his phone and now it only types question marks.
“U R my pussy cat doll.”
Sven is an amateur sculptor and intends to sculpt his great aunt Betiful and her new cat if she has bought one.
Thus making a ‘doll’ of them.
Without a new muse, Sven is at a loss regarding what do with his spare time.
This was meant to be a question inquiring once again about the kitten,
‘U R my pussy cat doll?’
But this time every key on the keyboard worked fine except the question mark, which weirdly, had become somehow gunked up with Sprite!
“Please send bobby for 34000 rupees maam.”
On an unrelated note, Sven is asking his aunt to remember to send Bobby, the aunt’s second husband, to make a withdrawal at the bank.
And it always pays to be respectful and polite
“Bloody slutwhore father fuck SEND NAKDE PIC NOW I ASK MANY TIME”
The aforementioned pepsi spill strikes again.
That, and an insane predictive text algorithm, results in a garbled, rude sounding message which was meant to read:
‘The daffodils are lovely. I’m so glad I took your advice of using old coffee grounds as fertiliser, my stamens have never been so loaded with pollen.’
“Please send it. Dying frm cancer…,1 last wish to see ur bob then I take off life support…so can die in peace.“
Tricky translation, bear with me.
‘Please send it. Dying frm….’
Sven asks his aunt to send ‘It’, the local dye merchant whose parents were big fans of The Addams Family, as he needs advice on dying a form, which is a rack used for dying multiple pieces of clothing at once in a big tank.
Sven is not a very good speller and always mixes up different words that sound the same. Writing ‘die’ instead of ‘dye’ can be a real problem for a person who makes a living making interesting clothing by dying materials different colours, but Sven somehow manages to make it work.
‘…cancer…’
Sven intends to put a crab design on the shirts he is making, for people born between June 21st and July 22nd. He’s also making different designs for Aquarius, Libra, Gemini etc.
They are available for sale on Facebook, Etsy and Ebay. Quality stuff, reasonably priced and fascinating designs.
‘…1 last…’
Sven then informs his aunt that their racehorse, imaginatively named ‘1’ because it was the third horse they have owned together, had come in last at the local race meeting.
‘…wish to see ur bob….’
Then he informs his aunt that he is really looking forward to seeing Bobby, especially because he needs the 34000 rupees he asked Bob to collect as he is going on holiday.
‘…then I take off life support…’
He is travelling with ‘Life Support’; a company who specialise in finding peaceful getaway breaks.
”If your life is a steaming pile of shit with occasional big lumps, if your job is getting right on your tits, you need Life Support – we take you to an abandoned farm with no running water or electricity in the middle of the arse end of nowhere and just dump you. Then we charge you £20k as we call it a ‘realistic survival scenario’ – Life Support, supporting your life with life support.“
Once he has the cash from Bob, Sven has a helicopter from Life Support waiting at the airport.
‘…so can die in peace…’
He will be dropped in the desert where he intends to get the last designs of his astrology based clothing line finished.
He is finding it hard to find peace to dye his materials at home as he is being forever interrupted by psychopathic crows and sentient, homicidal toasters.
“Ok I dead now fuck you bich bye nevr contact me again…”
‘I dead now’ is a colloquialism, it basically means that the phone line is going to soon become dead, i.e. ‘I’m hanging up’.
Much like ‘over and out’ in radio parlance.
It is still taught in the Norwegian Airforce.
(Stig, Lars, their kite and, until recently, Sven – collectively known as the Norwegian Air Force)
Interestingly, it is often passed down from father to son. Like syphilis.
‘fuck you bich’ is a kind of soup made with salted herring and walrus shit. It’s a meal you serve to people you don’t like.
‘bye nevr’ simply means ‘it will never happen’. Here Sven is simply stating that he loves his aunt so much that he would never serve her ‘Fuck You Soup’.
Then he asks his aunt to keep in touch.
And there you are; a simple and wholesome converstaion between an elderly Norwegian woman and her great nephew, twisted into a horrible, crass meme by those assholes on social media.
You all should be ashamed of yourselves.
