Why don’t we Box on Boxing day?

Ah boxing day! The Christmas frenzy is over and people are finally ready to reflect on how much money they’ve spent this Christmas, how annoying certain members of their family are and how long they’ve ignored their blog for. I for one had my mother round this Christmas. I hoped it would be rather pleasant. Unfortunately, I forgot that when my mother and The Wife combine they use me for target practice. Metaphorical target practice of course, they simply complain about me when I’m just within earshot, but their training up My Little Girl and she is somewhat more literal. I told my wife not to get her that dartboard with my face on it. Accidents will happen I said. And as usual, I was right. Fortunately my left eye has always been the weak one anyway.

Many people, it seems, are confused by boxing day. It has, I can say from experience, nothing to do with boxing. Regrettably I only found this out after an unfortunate attempt to hold a boxing match with Luke, my pet snake, on the top of my pole one year. I have never quite worked out how he won, what with the lack of hands and everything, but my wife assures me it was a fair fight and the frying pan in her hand was just because she was cooking breakfast. It was 8 in the evening at the time, but apparently she was practising for the next day.

Boxing day instead, got its name for two reasons. Firstly, it is the day when people give to the poor, filling the charity boxes with their change. (Talking of which, don’t forget my change bowl on your way out!) Secondly it is the day when merchants would be given their Christmas box – the gifts they received in return for good service throughout the year.

Now adays of course it a day mostly given to reflection, digestion, and watching repeats on TV that weren’t good the first time round. If this sounds like a bore to you you can always spend your time thinking up some questions for me instead. It can’t be a worse way to spend your time than eating your wife's Turkey Sandwiches.

A very happy Christmas to you. And remember: A Guru is for life. Not just for Christmas.

Drive-by muttering

Was walking home today when a car pulled up next to me. The driver, my neighbour, stuck his head out the window, shouted something at me, raised his middle finger and sped away.

I have absolutly no idea what he said. I find that more annoying than the action itself. You'd think if someone was going to go through all the effort of a drive-by insult, they'd at least learn to articulate.

Harry Potter and the half arsed movie

Took My Girl to see the new Potter Movie.
With that kind of magical power you'd think Harry could get someone better looking than Ginny. I mean a ginger girl. Really?

Unfortunately, the only kind of womenfolk all-knowing-genius seems to impress is chicks like my wife.

Knowledge and Magic then it seems have much in common, at least when it comes to attracting the wrong kind of woman. Except knowledge rarely gets you a cool scar.

Life Wisdom - in 400 Words or Less

There are times when my Pilgrims surprise me, and actually ask questions that I want to answer. This is very nearly one of them

Dear Guru

What wisdom would you wish to impart to your relatives? What is the one thing you want to tell them about the life you lived?

Canucklehead

Dear Pilgrim,

I've thought long and hard about this question. The answer didn't come easily. You asked me this question about half a year ago and it's taken me until now to finally be bothered enough to answer it.

My difficulties stemmed from one minor point - who in my family was I leaving wisdom to?; I would leave very different wisdom to my wife than my little girl. However as the wisdom I'd leave my wife involves Lincoln's Gold, I'll write about the advice to my daughter instead.

The wisdom I'd impart to my girl, and that I already try to impart to her every day, is this - 'ask Questions'. If you believe something, question the reasons you do. If you want to learn something, question an expert. Before you accept anything as true, Question it.

If my daughter were to read in the paper that her father is a pole-balancing lunatic, I would want her to question the journalists authority, and check the article wasn't written by my next door neighbour before accepting it as valid. There are many things that seem to be real until you study them closely (homeopathy, Acupuncture, George Bush's hair...etc) and it's easy to be fooled if you don't get more information.

As for the one thing I would share about my life, how long of one thing can it be? I understand the average pilgrim may be able to settle on just one thing, but I've accomplished a lot in one lifetime: becoming enlightened, giving life changing advice, managing to set up my wireless network, etc... But if I had to pick one, I would tell her that I 'Found Answers'. When people came with questions, I consulted the infinite, or sometimes Google, until an answer became clear.

As such, I gave myself to the needs of others.

There are those, mostly my wife, who would argue with this assessment of my life, but, as a guru, you need to prioritise. And personally I think the questions of a Canadian I've never met are far more important than cleaning out the Garage for our Christmas Party.

Hope this helps

Marcus

Give me another thing to share about my life. Vote for me at Humor Blogs

Questions are my bread and my butter. Ask Your Questions and help keep food on my pole top

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Is Life a Race?

Xander, who is rapidly becoming my biggest fan, has written in with this question. I've never seen anyone who so needs my help.

Dear Guru

Is Life a race?

Xander101

To answer this question we must first consider what a race is.

To clarify:
A race is a sporting event, often done for fun, in which any number of people, starting at the same place and point in time attempt to run the same distance in the quickest possible time.

If this is accurate (and it is, it came from me) then life can only be defined as a race if it fits this definition. If A=C and B=C then A=B, not that that relates to the question, I just think it's neat.

If life were a race then everyone would be born at precisely the same time with exactly the same Financial status, political views, social class and general intelligence as everyone else. And we would all be desperately, and joyfully, trying to die before anyone else does

While I can see certain places in the world where this philosophy may come in useful, Essex for example, it does not seem to be the status Quo, and we must conclude that the null hypothesis is the correct one.

Life is not a race.

I tend to think of life as a slow, intense, wrestling match, something like Foxy Boxing - no matter how hard you fight to win, every one ends up dirty

Marcus

On your Marks, get Set, and Go rate me at Humor Blogs

Ask me your questions and you might just get ahead

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The Miraculous Demise of my Boiler

This morning I experienced a miracle

My boiler had broken the night before. Instead of a roaring flame of heat, it provided a little red light.

Being the solutions man I am, I had an idea. According to the laws of thermodynamics electrical work produces heat - if we gathered around the red light we could warm ourselves from it's glow. My wife went to bed -- obviously she doesn't have much faith in the laws of physics -- but as it would be our first 'early night' in a long time I jumped at the chance. Or, to be accurate, I shivered at the chance and followed her to the bedroom.

Unfortunately her intentions were somewhat different to mine. Keeping all her clothes on, she lay under the Duvet and muttered that 'I couldn't even keep my family warm', as if it was my fault the boiler had broken. I pointed out that she hadn't reminded me to get it serviced, but that just seemed to make things worse. She rolled angrily away, taking most of the duvet with her and left me shivering on my own. I curled into the fetal position, and burying my head in my knees, I started to pray.

Now, I'm not religious; I gave religion up when I realised Jehovah was just a hammer-less version of Thor. But that night, lying in my bed, shivering like a vibrating toothbrush, I prayed for that it might not be so cold in the morning. 'For God's sake,' I said, 'let the bloody boiler be working tomorrow.'

As soon as it was said I realised how daft it was. "My God" is but one of a thousand. Who's to say that the Muslims aren't right, or the Hindus, or the small sect of Savages that worship Magic Wooden Aeroplanes? What if I was praying to a God that wasn't the real one. I tried again.

'Dear Jehovah, Allah, Buddha, Zeus, Thor, Vishnu and all his friends. Dear Hallowed Flying Spaghetti Monster, Ra, Great and Divine Goddess, the holy and almighty Lucifer, and all the Gods with names I can't pronounce. Dear Mother Nature, Dear Holy Spirit, Dear Gia, Dear Blessed Virgin Mary and the saints, Dear Obi Wan,

I beseech thee.Rescue me from these cold, dark times. Please, If any of you exist, make my boiler work in the morning.

Yours in anticipation. Marcus.'

The next morning, after dreaming all night that my underpants were made out of ice cubes, I launched myself into the arctic conditions of my front room and flicked on the boiler.

And that was when the miracle occurred.

The boiler still didn't work.

I had prayed to every god, spirit, and force in existence and not a single one of them had answered my prayer. The odd's of being ignored by that many deities must be thousands to one, an occurrence so unlikely it could only have been caused by some supernatural being that wished me to remain an Atheist. I gave a short prayer of thanks to Richard Dawkins, then telephoned a plumber. After all, Gods help those who help themselves.

But now as I sit here and wait for the plumber to arrive (between the hours of 8-6, some point before Summer) I realise there are in fact, 2 rather simple ways to explain away my miracle. Either there is no such thing as 'God' in any form. Or every god in existence wants me to be cold.

Either way you look at, it's a chilling thought.

Marcus

Hot and Cold Humour can be found at Humor Blogs

The Guru Has all the Answers

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Quite Valuable Crap

I love each and every one of my Pilgrims, but sometimes I do worry about what they get up to in their free time.

Dear Guru,

The other day my boyfriend and I were flicking between channels when we found one selling cheap, chintzy jewellery at the incredibly low price of £49.99. An hour later we were still watching.

What is this magical effect that Sales TV possesses? Please help, my credit card can't take much more.

Xander101

I don't watch much TV but my Little Girl is obsessed with it; every Saturday morning we have to watch Spongebob Squarepants and anything with pants that square can not be a good role model for our children.

My wife, on the other hand, likes the soap-operas; her 'only escape from a dreary life.' I pointed out that if her life were a soap opera it would be nothing but Lust, violence, and Murder. She responded thant whenever she looks at me she like one of each. Sometimes that women is beyond me.

'Sales TV' itself isn't watched in our house. I blocked it when I received credit card charges from 'Entertainment Enterprises.' These turned out to be charges from a web-site my wife doesn't know about, but I kept the bar on anyway. Prevention is better than debt. To research this post however I was forced to remove it. It's a mistake I wont be making again.

Sales TV is magic. It makes you suspend belief. You know a Rolex watch shouldn't be that cheap, you know there must be some hideous catch, you know it will turn your arm green within half a day, but you want to believe.

The format is hypnotic, the shots short, quick, shiny. A close up, a mid-shot, a wide shot next to a close up. It makes you feel dizzy. It dazzles you with bright colours; jewellery so sparkly even thinking about wearing it could get you mugged. The presenters talk rhythmically, repeating words over, and over again. Your Pulse quickens. Your body tenses. You can't possibly change channel. The next item might just be the one you've been waiting your whole life for. Demand is high. Those diamonte encrusted rubber gloves will all be gone soon. You have to call now.

I put the bar back on the shopping channel. What with the complete collection of nodding biblical figures now crowding up the top of my pole, I won't need any more 'bargains' for some time.

Whatever is that Sales TV does, it's very, very good at it.

Marcus

All your useless bling can be found at Humour Blogs

Give me your questions! They will keep away from the TV for a while,

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2,000 words a day is enough words for anyone

So by now you probably think I'm ignoring you, that I decided to end my Guru ways and take up a 9-5 job like the rest of you ignorant pilgrims. I did consider it. It thought about going into the private guru business and ignoring the poor-paying, unwashed public sector of the pilgrim market, but as most private sector workers are already in counselling the competition was too high. Besides, I can write whatever I like here, and no-one cares, as no-one actually reads this blog. (To prove it. I'll write the word 'balls' right here and see if anyone even bothers to complain.)

The main reason I've been away for the last month is NaNoWriMo (or National Novel Writing Month for short.) During the month of November, thousands of people around the world attempt to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days in a crazy, and largely pointless endeavour. I think people less enlightened than me do it to say they achieved something with their life, even if that something is a 50,000 word ramble about how fed the author is with writing. I did it just to get away from my wife.

My story was, of course, perfect, and will be coming out in a bookstore near you just as soon as I get a ghost writer to re-write the whole thing. While most participants wrote about Vampires or spaceships, (or vampires in spaceships) I wrote about my childhood, but as I wrote about a happy, joyful childhood, full of fun and laughter it was largely a fictional work and thus didn't break the Rules.

Either way, after spending a month writing 2,000 words a day I feel I can comfortably spend a bit more time updating this blog, especially as I need something to pass the time in-between bouts of enlightenment. And so I'm coming back to you with my finger-tips blazing, my humour burning, and my incredibly wise head weighing me down with all the wisdom and knowledge it has to share with you, such as 'Why is it so much fun to watch sales TV?' and 'What should you consider before taking media Studies?'

Watch this space :- You're about to be rocked by Knowledge.

Marcus

It's not as clever, but it's probably more funny. Check out Humor Blogs

That question no-one has ever answered will be answered here

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Coming out

The day my Most Exalted Calling was revealed to me I ran all the way home. Having wasted my life in the office, I abandoned it at once, and sprinting home to my wife, hugged her till her feet left the floor.

"I have found the light!" I declared, "I have discovered truth and foreseen my Destiny! I have found Salvation"

I held her in my arms and in that moment our souls became one, our love binding us together, our minds melding as one. A reverend silence reverberated throughout the universe as we lost ourselves in each other’s eyes. It was a single moment of perfection that seemed to last forever.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of awed silence, she spoke.
"You stink!” she said, pushing me away. “And what are you doing home so early?”
This, I will be honest, was not the response I was hoping for, but nonetheless, I rallied on.
"I quit my job!”
This, it seemed, came as a surprise. “What?” she said, a flurry of emotions fighting for space on her beautiful face.
“I was wasting my life there. A greater calling has been given me, one no office can fulfil!" I delivered the line flawlessly having practiced it all the way home.. Sir Ian McKellen would have been proud of me.
My wife’s performance however, was somewhat less elegant.
"You’re fucking kidding me right?"
"No!" I drew her back towards me, "I am chosen! I am blessed! I will teach the world the folly of its ways!"
"Are you crazy?" She broke my embrace again, "You quit your bloody job!"
"I..." For some reason she wasn't taking this as well as I'd hoped, "I have no need for the world of 9 to 5! My world is one of infinite possibility. I am free. My Destiny is written. My ‘job’ is to change the world! "
"So you quit your job?"
“I...I...”
I stuttered to a halt, my rhetoric faltering in her merciless onslaught.
“Look,” I said, taking her hands in mine and sighing deeply, "You seem to be missing the point here...."

6 days later she finally gave up caring.

I still find wonder if she understands the decisions I made on that blesséd day. Sometimes, when I head to my pole, she turns her back on me and mutters to herself. You would think that as a successful Guru, with over 50 followers, she would be proud of me. But instead she simply worries about the overdue Gas Bill or where My Little Girl’s next meal will come from. Sometimes, I worry she has no clue of the things in life that are truly important.

The life of the prophet is always a life of struggle. And for some reason however, my family isn’t willing to struggle along with me....

Marcus

Make my wife proud by becoming one of my Pilgrims! Subscribe to my feed, never miss any of my wisdom, and maybe, just maybe, my wife will start talking to me again....

Humor Blogs always understands

Coming up next time... Part 2 of the truth about Aliens

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The Modern Guru

Pilgrims these days have it too easy.

There was a time when Gurus were considered Gods. After all, they knew everything, sat in high places, and looked awesome in Sandals! Pilgrims would trek miles to see them. And, in those days, a trek meant just that. Pilgrims would walk for days, or at least ride Donkey Back (which isn't as much fun as it sounds.) And they would suffer great hardship, cross mountains and deserts, brave droughts and storms, and worst of all, put up with their children asking 'Are we there yet?' every few miles. By the time they finally reached the Guru, normally at the top of a mountain or in the middle of a treacherous forest, they would have faced so many difficulties, struggles and challenges that the journey itself had transformed them. Then all the Guru had to do was point out the many lessons they had already learnt, and the Pilgrim's went away happy.

Now adays, however, the biggest struggle my Pilgrims go through is Airport Security. I've tried to remind them of the lessons learnt thanks to the cramped conditions of EasyJet or the humbleness gained by taking off one's shoes to pass through an Airport scanner, but somehow it just doesn't come off the same.
There was a time when I even considered living on a mountain, so pilgrims at least needed to climb a little, but my wife started complaining we'd be too far from the supermarkets....

The ever shrinking size of the world has meant that today's Guru has to be a lot sharper than the guru of old. You can't fob people off the way you used too. Nowadays, if you tell a Pilgrim, "The answers lie within each of us. All must find the answers their own way," they start demanding their money back and threaten to write to the Ombudsman.

Not that it's a problem for me of course however, these troubles are a small price to pay for the joy of knowing I have made the world that little bit wiser.

And of course, I know everything, or at least I will do after a quick look on Google. The shrinking world does have some benefits after all.

Marcus

I know all the answers. Humor Blogs knows all the Jokes.

Nowadays it's almost to easy to Ask me your questions.

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Darn Kids with their Punk and their MTV....

Of course, it happens to the best of us, but I was rather hoping I had a few years to go...

I was in town the other day when some teenagers walked past with some funky new hair styles that suggested they'd just been stun-gunned in a paint factory.

I turned to my wife and said "You know, I understand life, the universe and everything. But I just don't understand young people's hair styles these days."

It's official. I'm getting old...

Marcus

Humor Blogs never gets old.

You need Answers? The Guru Needs Questions.

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