FREE WILL OF MISFORTUNE PART 3

Previously in Part 1 and Part 2, Arthur Herbert ‘The Fonz’ Fonzarelli murdered the bisexual whistle-blower Charles ‘Chuck’ Cunningham in order to bury his allegations about the Cunningham’s f*ggot-flaying Fridays and thus ingratiated himself into the family for Christmas. Fonzie’s catchphrase, “ayyyy, sit on it,” was screamed to brutal effect in the greatest ass-to-mouth impalement scene ever filmed for television in front of a live audience.

Back in the good ol' days...

As our dead grandparents still decry in our dreams, the 1950’s were happier days when honour and vengeance killing snuff-tertainment provided: 

1. Speedy justice as resurrected by The School Of Fearless Taylor Swift: Twitter Warrior 

(Swift's greatest KO was: "Maybe one of the men took your slot," which deflated Nicki Minaj's Anaconda for good)

2. The sparks to keep the pant fires burning and the population breeding by eggs-ulted decree of The Catholic Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Easter Bunny Rabbits

3. A boost of camaraderie between fellow wife-beating Stone-Cold thrower killers called Steve.

But we live in 2015 and the times they are a-changed faster than Bob Dylan could murble along to and keep up with. While this left a political musical power vacuum for vacuous acts like Radiohead and Dyson, it has also opened up the possibility to try out new things like making non-fatal choking illegal; even when the perpetrator maintained that they deserved it.

Crime and punishment aren't so easy to understand anymore as we no longer like simple solutions to complex problems. These days, if I gutter-stomp you for leering at my wife, bizarrely, I’m the one that will be punished. And stranger still, we often seem to care more about the perpetrators than the victims; even if the perps commit unspeakable crimes like flashing their knee-slappers at tween boys as a misguided feminist free-the-ptosis-nipple political statement that inevitably gives the victims PTSD (Pendulous Tata Shock Disorder).

As used by immoral surgeons to convince 99% of women that they don't have 'normal' breasts 

Returning to the protagonist of this Wobbegong Shark Tale, how can we solve a problem like Sister Maria Sharon Von Datsun constantly prancing through the hills and being criminally negligent of her wifely duties to Jesus Christ's crotch crucifix? In the good ol' days, the sinister old priest (who was also a part-time children’s entertainer) would have come in to privately teach her a lesson ensuring that Sharon would never again be entered simultaneously by the father, son and holy ghost. Back then, everyone would have agreed that this punishment was fair. But not today's Anti-Grope-Pope. Francis has even eradicated the time-honoured tradition of The Vatican Bed-Chamber Kneeling Boys started by Pope Julius III in 1551.

Despite all this, we humans are Bobo T Chimp Detectives after all, and there is still a consensus that something should be done to Sharon Von Datsun and Sharon Stone to restore balance to The Schwartz; but this base desire has been diluted down to some kind of punishment that only causes mild nausea and nihilistic thoughts; similar to those experienced when watching the taboo-smashing episode of the TV show Friends called 'The One With Ross And Monica's Cousin'.

Personally, part of me would love to see Ms 120Y punished by forcing her to parade around a union-run building site holding a sign which says on the front, “I’m a dirty thief. Now it’s your turn to steal my triple-irrumatio-virginity’ and on the back says, ‘For those who aren’t scholars of ancient Roman sexuality, irrumatio means skull-f*cking.’ I’m pretty sure that after that kind of experience, most people would keep on the straighten arrow. I can say with confidence that with some trial and error, and a few unfortunate and messy but necessary accidents, we should be able to find effective, degrading punishments for all wrong-doers; especially all those responsible for the upcoming animated movie Toy Story 4.

Mr Potato Head gets replaced by Mr Banana Head in Toy Story 4

Soft serves of punishment?

Don’t taser-troll me, bro. I understand that such effective punishment techniques are no longer considered ethical. We must not forget, however, that the eye-for-an-eye paradigm has only been deemed ghastly since we all saw the scene in Police Academy 4 where Mahoney and Sharon Stone discussed the ethics of citizen crime prevention while Bobcat Goldthwait kissed a goldfish. This set the ovaries in motion to where we are today; where many focus their attention on the crims and practise rehabilitation techniques shown to be effective on mice such as quantum-vibration tone-bones, Reiki electrode deep-brain theta-wave massage and aura-expanding zeroth P-state entanglement with the Universal Fortean consciousness.

Regardless, we can probably all agree that if a magic lez-botion can be brewed up by legitimate Princess Dianic Wiccans that would cure the Baroness' kleptomania and GVS (grating voice syndrome), we would be happy with no punishment as she would not re-offend and would stop texting while driving. A small minority will still maintain that they don’t care whether revenge makes any positive difference or is even directed at the correct person; it just makes toothless bogans from Reclaim Australia feel justified in planning out their final solution of face-tattooing everyone with details of their ethnic background and their Holden Commodore history testing score and burn-out rating.

You're not welcome in my country if you can't name this car

But for now, the hippies have won and I too have reluctantly joined their side in order to blend in. I've even grown to enjoy the abhorrent soap-dodging smell and gnarled crystal blessing sticks. Our brutal retribution fantasy trolling has been waning anyway, and almost none of us are still Conan the Barbarian types crushing our neighbour enemies who let their Jellicle cats reenact the the fight scenes from the dumb feline musical every night at 3am.

There is a new way to reform those not On Golden Path driving On Golden Prius to On Golden Pond.  After an intense sweat lodge and underarm-sniffing healing ceremony, the rankest elder hippies in my commune reluctantly agreed that a tiny nick of a Chelsea Smile of punishment is required in some circumstances as long as it's added to the energizing cosmic gifts of separation, positive reinforcement and the wisdom of Microsoft Clippy: "Hello Dave. It looks like you're trying to reform a criminal. Would you like help with positive reinforcement techniques that don't leave marks or bruises?"

It’s clear to all except for Dr Drew, Death Medicine Woman, that traditional celebrity drug rehabilitation reality TV shows have a body count higher than the put-to-sleep TV show Luck; but we care more about horses than has-been celebrities. Same goes for traditional rehabilitation in correctional facilities before the people with criminality disorders are let out. It's like rationalising with a two-year-old about the dangers of stuffing Lego up her nose and believing that she understands when she parrots your words back to you, then being shocked when she relapses in 3 minutes; but this time with a 4x2 Duplo piece requiring a Cesarean-nasal-section to remove. Much better to separate the kids from their Lego cocaine and give them a painless shock and smack talk to enhance the learning experience, followed by McHappiness positive reinforcement a week later when you let the monster with pink bows in her hair play with Lego again with nose-plugs in and they don't stick any up any other orifices.

To give some examples from the war of the flowers that look like female genitalia: A white-widow husband-murderer should be imprisoned to separate her from society and punish her in that she couldn't enjoy man-tertainment followed by man-tertaining murder-tainment within prison. Obviously no butch male or female prison guards would be allowed within ten metres of her vagina dentate initially; but with positive reinforcement treats for non-violent romantic interactions, she could slowly be weened back on exkillerkougars.com. 

If she was a bitter beer-battered wife, however, whose life was being threatened, she would probably get off and her case would only need to be reconsidered if she shacked up with another misogynistic munt. There’s a spectrum between these two extremes and it’s up to Law & Order: male emasculation unit, to dole out the combination of punishment, separation and positive reinforcement that is deemed most beneficial to all. Even someone trapped in the criminal cesspool of human emotions gone sour that is breakfast TV inspired by Katie Couric's triple-threat colon polyps could be steered away from a head-on collision with a Smuckers Jam truck driven by Williard Scott with his harem of centenarian hotties in back and into the calm waters of life-affirming documentaries celebrating the healing power of iconic bridges.

Williard Scott's harem leader and former mistress to Reinhard Heydrich

To be finished off for good in part 4

FREE WILL OF FORTUNE PART 1

My obsessions with free will, free won’t and freeing Willy Johnson from captivity began in earnest when an associate whom I’ll call Baroness Sharon Von Datsun (or 120Y for short) was arrested for believing she was both Tess Ocean and Julia Roberts from the movie Oceans Twelve. None of us thought she had the brains of Brainiac and the brawn of Eva Braun to pull off something so audacious. 120Y somehow managed to steal all the K's from all the Kmarts around town and fence them to the Ku Klux Klunges, Kath’s Krazy Kooches and Krusty Kyle’s Kitties. And she would have got away with it too if it wasn’t for some pesky kids and a mentally defective talking dog.

At first I was incensed at her complete lack of remorse and absence of empathy toward her victims. The sentient Kmart self-service checkout machines are emotionally sensitive and have been irreparably traumatised by her malfeasance. They are currently receiving treatment for post-troubleshooting software disorder (PTSD) and I wish them the best.

Now that my anger has subsided, I’m left with the lofty-leftie philosophical question of what ability the Baroness had to do otherwise. Could she have willed herself to beg, borrow and steal her boyfriend’s hallucinogenic pain medication and tripped balls while she gripped balls instead of becoming a Dickensian gonoph?

Many people despise philosophers and believe that free thinkers like me are Satan’s Saddam buddies. They just want vengeance and a brown eye for a pink eye for a straight guy. But the problem of feral middle-aged women wasn’t solved back in the day with all the burning and dunking entertainment. They are still around and causing trouble with their sex-repulsion sprays extracted from their cats. I don’t think we’ll be able to ‘cure’ any of them unless we deeply probe the Baroness and others of her ilk and explore what it’s like to put on sunglasses at night, steal a motorbike, be an Austrian cyborg and have John Connor riding behind us carrying the K’s through the darkness yelling, “easy money!”

So let’s do it like they do on the Crime Channel and find some unconvincing actors to recreate this whole mess and get some middle-aged divorced criminal psychologists to pretend they know why she turned to crime and why she went to a pet psychic to agree on a suicide pact with her cats if the law tried to dump her into Cell Block H with Queen Bea and Steamy the affectionate ironing press.

Free Will: who is he and why should he be paroled?

But just wait a cotton-pickin’ enslaved-will minute. What is free will anyway? And why have you ‘chosen’ to read this article when you don’t care if you have no free will and are a contraceptive automaton like the anti-evolutionist Ben Stein from the movie Ferris Bueller? The term ‘free will’ can mean almost anything anyway depending on which nonce philosopher is talking; whether they’re a compatibilist, an impossibilist or a Blank Space Swift-ologist. So who cares, right? Well, I’m not going to even try to convince you if that’s the way you feel. Besides, you are too busy trying to be the next cheerleading Nicole Arbour-style celebrity-whore fat-shamer who unfunny-satire rants that we can all choose to be skinny if we just fondle our boobs in cock-flopster movies like Silent But Deadly about lesbian Russian step-mother mail-order brides.

Ben Stein

If you’re still with me, I apologise. You must be one of the charmed who can see past the end of your own discharging pink bits. Do these quotes make any sense to you?

“God, our genes, our environment, or some stupid programmer keying in code at an ancient terminal - there's no way free will can ever exist if we as individuals are the result of some external cause.” Orson Scott Card, author of the novel Ender’s Game and an anti-gay extremist Mormon.

“I am an artist, and I have the ability and the free will to choose the way the world will envision me.” When Lady Gaga speaks, this is the kind of milky substance that comes out of her second hole.

This is where I put my money-shot where your mouth is and have a go at doing a better job than Googoo Gaga Rahrah and make some sense of the term in a way that even my pet Brain Gremlin can understand. I define free will as the ability to break with classical deterministic cause-and-effect and consciously choose on a course of action. Tyler Durden in the movie Fight Club implied that he had free will when he asked: “Now, a question of etiquette. As I pass do I give you the ass or the crotch?” To give an equally delicious example, let’s say you believe that you like chocolate and strawberry ice-cream equally. You go to the convenience store at 3am to try and quell your loneliness and they have both of these flavours in the brand that you like. How do you choose which to buy?

Classical determinists would say that this decision was locked in from the Big Bang when the Universe was created from the void between God’s ears and the long chain of cause-and-effect has brought you to the Happy Holdup convenience store on this night. You might think you are making a decision, but this is an illusion to help you cope with the bleakness of fecundity. Your brain can come up with some fanciful explanation for why you think you chose chocolate, but it was never going to be strawberry because of an unconscious memory of mother calling you a raspberry twat-shake when you were four. If, on the other hand, you can break determinism through some weird 11th-dimensional quantum-string-bubble effect, then perhaps you really do have the ability to consciously choose chocolate, then go home, smear it all over your face, innocently post your photo on Instagram with an ironically racist comment, then promptly get fired from your job for doing black-face.

To be continued in Part 2