Let me try that again.

It’s the morning people who are the 1% of the population, and the night people – the swingers and the groovers – who are the 99%.

You see where I’m goin’, don’t you?

“Yeh-yeh-yeh-yeh-yeh, that’s it exactly. So, when, you’re bein’ all apologetic – because you think you’re living your life in error – that because of your decision to sleep in ’til 7am – to not rise early and seize the worm of commerce and competition with one’s fellow man – in fact, Jack, you are living in harmony with your fellow man – men – 99% who are still asleep, and many, many of whom will continue sleeping far past the time when you wake up,” ejaculated sleepologist Ray Goolens, Sunday.

So, most people aren’t morning people.

“You catch on quick, Rick.”

And so it’s the least people – the minority – which is, are morning people.

“I think we’ve already said as much.”

And so the majority – the 99% – are good and are doing things that are right and good and just, simply because they are part of the group that is doing the thing the most.

“Would you mind if I go and get a sandwich?”

Hold on, Ron – so, it’s the 1% that are bad, and – correct me if I’m wrong here – should be corrected by the majority – for their own good, so to speak.

“You’re thinking of writing something on a placard, now – I can see that.”

What?

“You’re – nothing – look, how about that sandwich?”

I don’t like morning people.

“Oh, Jesus.”

I’ve never said that to anyone before.

“Oh, God.”

I feel…wickedly liberated.

“Mmm. Goody.”

The table’s are turned now, aren’t they?

“Look, ah, I want…cripes – I’m sure it’s here that some of your readers are going to want me to step up and correct you, mate, but since I haven’t got a good sandwich in me yet, I just really can’t be asked.”

Wot?

“I can’t be – I’m not going to do it.”

Here, I’d been thinking I was wrong – for so long, Jong. But now I see that I was right. And it’s good to know that I’m not alone, either. I can’t thank you enough.

“Fantastic. Glad to be of help. Great intellectual exchange we’ve had here.”

What time did you get up this morning?

“What?”

What time did you wake up?

“Well…er…there’s a difference, ah, you know…”

Yes/no question – what time?

“It is not – I don’t really see how that’s of any…”

Very sneaky. Very sneaky, indeed.

“Look, if you had allowed me to finish-”

If I had allowed you to finish, we never would have arrived at this truth, here. Yes, precisely. I think anyone could see why you’d want that to have happened. Thankfully – it hasn’t.

“What?”

You – are a morning person.

“I am not.”

It’s written all over your face.

“Ridiculous.”

Your freshly-ironed shirt…your blowdried hair…everything about you says, “I’ve been up since 6am.”

“Preposterous – I was out dancing ’til 6am, yes, all right, there you have it – but I assure you, I am not one of them. I’m not here to judge you or to look down on you. After this interview I’m going home to open a beer and crash on the couch.”

I’d like to believe you. I’d like to believe you very much.

“Look at this hair, here – see? This isn’t my hair. This is the hair of some Sheila who was leaning all over me last night at the club.”

What?

“It’s the hair of some – woman – from, from dancing…staying up all night – not waking up early – there’s a difference.”

I’m not sure I follow you, but there certainly is a difference – we can definitely agree on that.

“Look…what is it that you want?”

I..

“Oh!”

What?

“Oh! You don’t know what you want! Of course – how could I have forgotten?”

What?

“Now you’ve – my God, I’m hungry – now you’ve come to the point, surprise, surprise, where you think you’ve found a new idea, in that you’ve found some kind of scapegoat for all you worries – that you can’t find a job, that your girlfriend won’t fuck you, that you’re having trouble even saving up for that miso ramen you want to eat for dinner – when all of a sudden, when someone actually looks at you and says, alright, fine, let’s look at it your way, now what are we gonna do, you have no plan or thoughts on the matter whatsoever.”

I just…

“Oh, `I just…I just..`- `I just` what?”

I just want to…sleep a little longer.

“Right. Classic. The old “I just want to sleep a little longer – I don’t want to hurt anybody” defense.
You think all your talk of the 99% and 1% hasn’t hurt anybody? Do you think anyone gets what they want? Rhetorical question – obviously, you do.”

Just to sleep…’til 7am.

“Not going to cut it, mate. Up at 5, 6 – all right, I’m with you. I want to see you up there, on the train, on the bus, your face pressed to the steamy glass just like all of your fellow man. I don’t care if you’ve had time for a breakfast or not. I tell you, when I hear a tummy rumble, that’s the first sign of a hard worker, if you ask me.”

I -

“Make Sense?”

“I’d prefer you use the word ‘tremblor’ as that sounds more exciting,” he said, warming to his theme, “and as you know, the U.N. and our auspices, condemn any attempt by Canaduh, the U.S. or any of your friends to copy the quakes in order to participate more fully in the news yourselves.”

After every battle royale with Nature, folks globally like to up the ante by putting their own probs front and center, say expats.

“Experts.”

What?

“‘Say experts – you wrote ‘say expats.’”

Aren’t you an expat?

“Sure-sure, but it’s not information that is vital to your reader.”

Readers.

“I’m going to have to differ with you on that one.”

Then I’m not going to mention who you are.

“And just leave my text just sitting there?”

Happens all the time. You’d see it if you bother to scroll down.

“No one bothers to scroll down.”

OK, so where have copycat quakes occurred? Who’s doing it? Can it be tied in to something like hip hop in a place we haven’t heard of and how that’s helping the youth buy something somewhere?

“Social networking and Twitter are both making the “youthquakes” happen globally, and helping their parents shell out for great-looking gadgets this Easter.”

OMG!!!

“Canadian rapper BLT and his arch-enemy Young Seaweed are teaming up to do something somewhere sometime that will piss you off so much you can’t stop watching it until your eyeballs run like raw eggs.”

Splooooooooge!!!!

“Although we can’t control Nature, governments and their minions are working in tandem with the U.S. president, the American Barack Obama, the Canadian Barack Obama Stephen Harper, and the British Barack Obama David Cameron, along with Google, etc, to bomb Nature back to the stone age, when it just played good and provided us with caves to live in and, uh, fire.”

That was pretty good. I’ve changed me mind – I think you deserve to be named.

“I’d really rather you didn’t, as…”

I know – “you aren’t authorized to talk about what you’re talking about as you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, it’s common sense, right?”

Understand?!?

Good for them!

MP3s are finally getting the respect they deserve. Just try listening to a great MP3 on an expensive iPhone or iPod machine. When I heard The Beatles’ Rubber Soul on my iPhone it was almost as good as listening to it on my Radio Shack cassette recorder or on a car radio.

The MP3, just like a human Olympic beach volleyball athlete,  tries real hard to reproduce all the grit of the beach sand and dog  hair that gave my Radio Shack its unique sound. And, it sort of mimicks the third genration dub hiss that my Beatles tape had since it was a copy of a copy of a copy of my brother’s loser druggie friend, Ray Goolens.

Remember all that wasted time -dubbing and triple dubbing your favorite tunes? No? Then what are you doing staying up so late? It’s probably past your bedtime, right bro?

I guess kids these days probably don’t have a bedtime, but stay with me.

We both love MP3s.

I twaddled on The Six Pistols’ “Never Mind the Hogwash”, which I downloaded guiltily from iTunes (I know – it’s bad – the artist doesn’t get any money from iTunes), and listening to its smoothed out guitars just eased the kinks right out of my bod. With MP3, unlike plastic or CD, what you’ve in your hands is control. You’re the chief engineer and the eccentric father of five with a great set of high end speakers and you’re in charge or remastering your entire audio library.

Indeed, if anything, MP3 and its ideal mates Apple and  iTunes are like the Che Rivera and Louis Vuitton of our generation. How so? Well, in that they’ve freed us all from audioslavery.

Understand?

Anyways, what’s more is a girl’s bladder is timed to a coworker she despises.

“Everytime I have to get up and go take a whizz, she (the coworker) like follows me and stands so close to me at the nearest urinal,” Fawn Bare, 42, a data entry intern at Danny’s Bank.

Jesus.

“And then I can’t go and she starts making – whizzzzzzzzzz – the most boring nonsensical conversation you’d ever imagine in your life, bro.”

I can imagine some pretty boring, uh, conversations.

“Nuff said. But seriously, I dropped by my doc’s office the other day and guy said my kidneys is swolled up ten thousand times their size.”

What could be the cause of that?

“He said there could be a timer inside my bladder that’s timed to her bladder and that’s syncing us up to have to – y’know – at the same time.”

The coworker, whom could not be contacted for this story because that takes a lot of time, will fade into history, her story silently erased until a desperate grad student (s) find (s) it on a microfiche.

“Yeah, it’s the same the world over,” says Ray Goolens, who was monitoring this story for Google Page View, WikiLeaks and the President to help make our community safer. “People come and go – what’ s the dif, really?” he quipped, fiddling with his open lunchbox lid and taking a long leisurely pull on a four foot high tumbler of steaming prune juice.

The Brutal Times has been nominated for a Solid Gold Internet Award for this story and may get some action tonight because of it.

Or… has/will …it?!?

“I think it’s bloody ridiculous” ejaculated Troy Underwood, 23, who is vacationing in Yemen with his mother and her pet.  ”When I was in school, the sensei would whip us blind  if we dared engage in such foolery,” he went on, attracting a small crowd.

Yemen, an exotic country full of interesting people constantly exchanging email addresses and cell phone numbers is now locked between the crosshairs of the Obama administration’s global war on terror. Dwarfing Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran and other terror titans in news-worthy importance in recent days, data gleaned from your sext messages shows you mispelled (misspelt) ‘Yemen’ as ‘Semen’.

“Certainly, whut we’re seeing, after going through the sexts of regular ordinary people just like you, is that you are guilty and may face prosecution at a time of our choosing,” offered Ray Goolens, a 40-ish blogger at Starbucks told me after taking me aside for a “friendly chat” in the men’s rest room.

So…what to do, Lou?

“We’re going to need to implement wide-ranging re-education, bolstered by massive jolts of medication and, to be frank, spankings,” sexted Kate Jalle, 30, a mid-level temp at the United Nations.

Jeez, will that be enough?

“Well, that’s the magic question, really,” she pondered. “But I think what’s clear is that if you do find yourself, or yo’sef, misspelling ‘Yemen’ as ‘Semen’, you should make it a rule to apologise for your poor choice of words,  in the body of your actual sext,” she went on.

But, isn’t that… ‘letting the terrorists win,’ or something?

“Let me get back to you on that one.”

Yes. I’ll be waiting.

“Mr Noel doesn’t like his brother, and wants to experience a middling solo career apart from him (the brother),” said Dan Hartwig, spokesperson for CONS. “It’s just like when Paul quit The Beatles,” he speculated wildly.

Angry fans turned over cars and houses. Looting continued worldwide. One lady, Ms Norma Hall, 42, used the ensuing chaos as an op to abandon her moral conscience. “I got drunk , put on an Halloween mask and went online,” she said, vaguely.

Turkey, Japan and Canada had reported like a while ago that Gallagher, known for his boyish resemblance to The Beatles and vegetarian diet, had jumped ship.

Canada reported Gallagher had joined 80′s singing sensation Styx, in November.

“Canadian news is lies, basically,” ejaculated Ray Goolens, refusing to give his age lest it interfere with picking up. “China is the best country, and we should all follow their shining example in everything,” he went on.

CONS employs 2 billion university educated journalists. Their unceasing pursuit of truth is inspiring and nice.

Or…is…it?!?

In previous years – 2008, 2007 and so on, cute pet stories tended to be eclipsed by political coverage, current events, business news and so on.

But God said from now on, “Let it be otherwise”.

The result? I said already above – 2009 was the cutest year yet for pets, online on the ‘Net, on your tee vee and so on. For pet lovers, it was truly an bonanza.

“It was truly an bonazana,” said pet-lover (but not too much) Renee Phipps, 19, an English Education major at Saskatoon University in Canada. “I’m agreeing with what you said, so why are you looking at me all weird and stuff?” she went on.

Ms Phipps and her traveling companion, Don Reyner, 13, also from Saskatoon had sneaked across the Canadian border to buy hand guns for the coming Collapse in 2012.

“We’re not one of the sheeple,” explained Mr Reyner, clutching his concealed weapon. “I don’t want a homeless trying to eat my pet, come the first of next year,” he went on.

Still, the point of this article is about the media itself. In 2009, as we look back and ponder we can respect how cutting edge in-your-face bloggers from CNN, Yahoo and lesser-known underground sites like Hotmail showed us the way with great stories about cute pets.

“Actually, not to correct you, but it is frankly incorrect to say ‘stories’ when actually what you really mean is ‘videos’”, ejaculated Ray Goolens, whom is an Internet Technology specialist. “And the amazingly remarkable thing is how these testaments to our pets, were posted on blogs around the world, not just by rad bloggers like CNN’s Amanpour or John Roberts, but by dissidents in Iran and Canada.”

Canada?

“In Iran.”

But you said Canada, too.

“Well, that’s another country where they have computers.”

Sure.

“I like that video where the cat gets stuck in a blanket and can’t get out,” said Iranian physicist Bill Wiggins, 24. “But it was sad that it never got out,” he went on.

“For me, the cutest pet video of 2009 was the one where the cat was stuck in a blanket,” contrasted Kate Foxxe, 21, a gorgeous philosophy student I met on the street waiting for tickets to the Hollywood media salute to pets.

That’s fascinating. Please tell me more!

“I like it’s whiskers. They were sooo cute!” she went on.

Yes, pets are cute. With God’s will and so on we’re gonna get through the rest of the Final Days etc, with a little more help from great Internet news sites and the knee-slapping in-your-face rad cute pet videos (and stories?) they bless us with!

The new TOEIC test will include pillow talk.

“Pillow talk began in the court outhouse of the Japanese prince Sei Shogun,” informed Ray Goolens, a long-time foreign man in Japan who studies Japanese in Starbucks coffee restaurants.

“Stop saying that I ‘study Japanese in Starbucks coffee restaurants’ “, he said, “it’s hurting my game.”

Anyway, Mr Goolens should know because he has much knowledge of porno and so on. He has much time to find his dream in between his jobbie as a “teacher of foreign languages in Japan” or TIT as it is called by Japanese.

“That’s not true, what you just said,” he said.

And then the TOEIC test hated by many Japanese as required to gain entrance to prestigious companies as Sony, BB FunCorp and so on had changed. As of yesterday that test required new Pillow Talk Section.

I was so shocked at that news.

OMG!

So Ms Kotohara Mitsue, 56,  had studied long hours at Ikebukero’s English Prison conversational school. Then her teacher of conversational English Mr Chad DeBarge, 23, of Miami  had suggest her to turn to page 69.

“Now, please turn to page 69,” he said.

“Hai”.

“Now repeat after me – ‘Rub my red-hot thighs’”.

Luckily young Ms Mitsue had called the manager of English Prison, Mr Sato Jiro, 79. Mr Sato informed Narita airport and Mr DeBarge was flown to his home in America by economic crisis class.

But.

“Only later did I learn I had made an horrible mistake,” Mr Sato informed me in Japanese by way of FAX modem. “Mr Chad had merely carried out his new duty according to the guidelines posted on the wall of his cube at English Prison,” he lamented.

Yes, as of September 2009 Japanese system had changed to require pillow talk be made a part of the curriculum of all TOEICs.

“It’s kind of a conspiracy theory we cooked up and put into action in our free time,” explained Fred Young, a spokesperson at Tokyo’s US Embassy. “It comes from the top down – Obama knows about it, he came up with the plan and he even wrote a lot of the spicier dialogues,” he went on.

Or did he?

Irony apparel is a smash hit in Williamsburg.

On my way out of the metro I bumped into 39-year-old Cassius Tam, who writes for Vice Magazine, Brooklyn’s foremost arbiter of taste. He was wearing a Bush-Cheney 2004 t-shirt.

Surely you don’t mean..?

“Oh no no old chap, I was being ironic when I bought this,” Mr Tam explained, fingering said shirt.

Oh.

Slowly squirting a much-need spurt of love-juice into the once sluggish global economy, witty young and not-so-young wunderkinds are stepping up to the fashion plate to hit ironic homeruns right into our eyes.

“Neck & Penis released a whole line of tightly-fitted ribbed neck and penis attire featuring Michael Jackson, Henry Kissinger, and Thom Yorke,” confirmed Ray Goolens, 56, a shopper.

And then, at the local butcher’s apartment I met Zoey Haff. She was wearing a big pink button that said “Fuck You”.

I was damned if I was gonna let that one pass.

“Whu’d I ever do to you, huh?” I demanded. “What’s your prob?” I went on.

“I’m be-ing i-ron-ic,” Ms Haff, 22, explained indulgingly.

And then suddenly out on the street again a group of hundreds swarmed me, pushing, screaming, pinching – all demanding my attention for their ironic fashion proclamations.

“I like Journey!” shrieked one 18-year-old girl, dressed as Sid Vicious.

“Rush Limbaugh is Cool!” bragged a chap who badly needed a bath.

“These Colors Don’t Run!” screamed the sweatshirt of another lad with Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses and arms no thicker than twigs.

You don’t…?

“No!!!” came the thunderous reply.

Or did it?

“Yeah, we finally figured out what was missing with the earlier 569,808 best of Beatles releases,” said long-time Beatles producer and confidante George Martin, from his villa in sunny Las Vegas, Sunday. “Those fucking Harrison and Lennon songs,” he went on.

“We cut ‘Come Together’, ‘I am The Walrus’, ‘Taxman’, ‘Something’, ‘Revolution’, ‘Yer Blues’, ‘Dear Prudence’, ‘In my Life’, ‘While my Guitar Gently Weeps’ and a whole slew of other losers,” confirmed Beatles engineer Geoff Emerick only seconds later, via the fabulous Internet social networking tool, Twitter.

Folks are like cramming The Beatles’ box set down their own throats they’re so overjoyed with the results of the overly-anticipated mucking about with past perfection.

“I would say, and this definition is usually reserved for Christmas, as ah, a way of sort of defining Christmas, that this box set is the very definition of ‘overjoy’, meaning ‘to experience too much joy’, which of course is the aim of our capitalist society as endorsed by President Obama,” said Ray Goolens, a shopper at Best Buy.

Gotcha.

Anything else?

“Yes, the mono versions of the twenty billion Beatles tracks have been remixed so that you’ll only hear Paul and Ringo in the mix,” explained Mr Martin, who as I told you before is that guy who produced The Beatles and now keeps producing them long long after they’re dead.

Any plans for the Lennon and Harrison tracks? Can’t the be recycled, for a better world for you and me?

“Well, I may find room for some of them on my new Tupac release, but…we’ll see,” he teased.

Or did he?