What Happened to Common Sense!?

By Ficcus Perdo

My name is Ficcus Perdo, and these are my opinions.  I'm not a whiny journalist, but after having to beat 2010 out the door with a broom handle....  2011, I must say you have not done much better.

My question to the world is: What happened to common sense?  Social norms have changed, for we as a people--as a whole--have changed.  Me personally, I'm totally into all this new technology; the internet, stem-cell research and whatever else a bunch of freaks and geeks in a room, with enough time on their hands, can come up with.  I love it all.  I also love people.  I'm a human first.  If you're human (and probably if you're not), we can hang out.  What I don't have any affection for is “stupid.” 

I remember as a child I was taught--or instilled, if you prefer--with certain "Rules O'Life," or guidelines that to this day still help me out.  Here are a few:


Don't talk to strangers.
Look both ways before you cross the street.
Lock up behind you.

Be aware and mindful of others.

Now, to anyone reading this who is like, "Well, no shit!"  To you, Sir or Madame, I say, “ Thank you.” You have common sense enough to know that this article is not directed to you.  Maybe you have children and have furthered these teachings unto them.   Maybe by trial and error you have made it this far by acknowledging the fact that we all make mistakes, so let's learn from them. 

To those of you who are reading this saying, "This is getting good, he's really onto something here," to you I say, “BOOOO!  Get out of my way.  Just go sit in that corner until your name is called for further instruction.  You need someone to hold your hand and walk you through life, stupid!" So, here we go!

First: Don't talk to strangers.  A stranger is anyone you don't know.  You may want to know them, but that is not always a mutual feeling.  If I'm sitting at a bar, watching the TV, there could be any thing on it , news, a game, whatever.  Feel free to make a comment or two, but do not think that this is going to make us best buds.  No, I don't care who your favorite team is.  I may not even like sports.  Point is, if you don't wanna run the risk of getting upset, keep your mouth shut.  If you're adventurous, go for it, but don't be mad at the end result to which you were the catalyst.

Next, we got those people who forget that traffic may be going only one way on a street but pedestrians go all ways.  The number of times that I have almost been hit by someone trying to make a quick turn and is only looking into on-coming traffic sickens me.  Now I just stare until they look me in the eye.  Usually catches them off guard them.  They nod.  I nod.  Then I cross.  I'm not trying to be a dick, I just don't need to get hit by a dumb-ass.  What if I was a kid?

As we all are beginning to see that these rules are all so very simple and are in fact quite handy, I now bring up the third point.  Lock up behind yourself.  If you're in a public bathroom, lock the door.  Lock it!  I've reluctantly seen more people pissing than I care to remember.  Almost saw a dude taking a shit.  A shit!  Why would you not lock the door to take a poop?  I lock the bathroom door in my own house. Saves both sides of the door embarrassment. You lock up before you go to sleep at night, right?  Please be courteous to the rest of humanity. If you want your privates on exhibition, go to a nude beach, or become a porn star.  They will still get mad at you if you don't lock the door, though.

And finally, at what I'm sure is the end of your attention span, we come to being mindful of your surroundings and those around you.  If someone is to close to you, get the fuck away.  You don't know if they are just overly personable, or crazy.  Just move and let them be on there way.  Ever been at a party and there is someone standing in the way?  Notice how they just won't move.  That's because they aren't aware of what's going on.  You're not planted in one position.  Make room for others, and they will make room for you.  Also, and lastly, know how to get out.  Know at all times where you are and how to get somewhere safe. You don't have to go home, but if anything goes wrong--and in most large, social settings, they will--have a back-up plan and know how and when to use it.  People are funny.  Just don't let the joke be on you!

Now, take this “crash course” in common sense with you out into the world and see if you now notice how so many are lacking in it.  You are now the teacher!

Don't let me down.

Riff-Raff: The Untold Story

by GR3G0R

Lately, I've been watching a lot of strange television.  And enjoying it.  In fact, it may have gone a little too far.  Like when you realize you need a porn-reset.

At the point when you've seen so much internet porn that without even realizing it, you've gotten a little bored with the usual stuff (blow jobs, reverse cowgirl, swing sex).  Before you know it, you've moved on to watching midgets dressed as superheroes doing it to each other with inanimate objects or enjoying the two girls who do distressing things with a single cup.  And when you find yourself considering whether the quadruple amputee you're watching really has much of a choice about their entry into the porn-industry, you realize that there's a serious problem.  To solve it, you pick up a copy of the Victoria's Secret or Sears catalog and hit the porn-reset button.

Maybe that's what I need to do with television.  Because for the past few months, I've been watching Heathcliff each morning at 7am on ThisTv.

Episode after episode, something has bothered me.  It's not that Heathcliff seems to have a bad case of paraphilic infantilism and is willing to be dressed as a baby and pushed around in a stroller.  It's not even that Heathcliff compensates for this by beating up anyone who dares to laugh at him and ruling the neighborhood with an iron fist.

No, it's not even Heathcliff at all.  It's Riff-Raff.

Riff-Raff: That Other Cat

Who is this cat?  Where did he come from?  Why does he live in a junkyard?  Who made that Cadillac that transforms into a boat, etc.?  Is he some sort of Bruce Wayne cat?

Well, after a bit of internet-digging, I've found the answers.  Most of them anyway.  Riff-Raff, like Oprah, has gone to some extreme lengths to keep the people around him from talking.  Thankfully, with the additional help of Hector (his second in command), the following can finally be revealed.

Riff-Raff was born to a wealthy family on Westfinster's south side.  The family had taken in his mother without knowing that she was pregnant.  While they did not want to be identified (for fear that Riff-Raff may try to squeeze some support money from them), the family told me they simply could not support the entire litter and risk becoming referred to as "that cat family" in their gated community.  The decision was made to give the kittens away, but each with a parting gift.  See, cats are hard to give away in Westfinster, so the wealthy family gave the adopting families a small token to sweeten the deal.  The little Riff-Raff was boxed up with an old ball-topped cane that once belonged to the family's patriarch.  Riff-Raff still holds this cane as a reminder of his upper-class roots.

So before Riff-Raff was 6 months old, he was bestowed to a local lower middle-class family where he lived happily for the next two years.  The mother of the house would feed him store-bought kibbles in the morning and the occasional scrap of fish from dinner in the evenings.  The father mostly ignored him.  But little Billy was Riff-Raff's main friend.  Sadly, Riff-Raff was little Billy's main friend as well.  The two played for hours in Billy's room.  Billy would build a Lego city and Riff-Raff would crash through it playfully.  Riff-Raff would run around the room and hide under the bed, waiting for Billy to find him. Once, when Billy had finally given up on trying to find him, Riff-Raff emerged from under the bed having slipped into one of Billy's old floppy hats.  A hat he still wears to this day.

This happiness wasn't destined to last though.  When Billy was 9, he caught a cold and died.  The family saw Riff-Raff as a symbol of their lost son and sought a way to escape that pain.  One day, they took a drive.  When they pulled up in front of the junkyard, Riff-Raff thought little of it.  The place looked interesting enough.  But then, the loving mother got out of the car and let little Riff-Raff out of the back seat.  She stood over him with watery eyes and placed a small, blue scarf around his neck.  "Don't catch cold," she said.  And as the family drove away, a sudden, frigid loneliness fell upon Riff-Raff. After a few moments of reflection, he strolled into the junkyard, determined to make a new life for himself and any other abandoned cats he encountered.

The Catillac Cats

Riff-Raff continues to out-reach his grasp by plotting outrageous "get rich quick" schemes in order to one day re-enter the elite ranks from which he comes. Just like you and your internet porn addiction, Riff-Raff finds himself pressing the bounds of reason to fulfill his desire.  Maybe one day, he'll finally realize that Mungo, Wordsworth, Hector, and Cleo are enough, and he'll stop trying to outdo himself to get back something that he had all along. Happiness.