Write about what you don’t know

They say write about what you know, but then Bret Anthony Johnston (Harvard University man person) says “write what you don’t know”.  As this blog post is all about writing, I shall do just that, write about what I don’t know.

That is to say, it’s not a list of all the things I don’t know, but if it were it would look like this

  • How to drive a car
  • How to drive a train
  • How to drive

Well how to drive any vehicle really, save for a bicycle, pedelo and Eurofighter.

Further things I don’t know

  • What you’re thinking
  • The area code for anywhere in Cornwall
  • What happens when we die
  • What happened before we were born
  • What happens when people watch ‘chick flicks’
  • How Smaptons are made

The list goes on for another 372 pages, mostly about my lack of knowledge of DIY procedures.  But for this particular blog I am going to write a detailed and in depth report on animal husbandry, a subject I literally know nothing about, I’m not even sure it’s a thing that exists.

Animal Husbandry – The meat and two veg of a farmers life

Cows, pigs, chickens and corn/maize/wheat/all plants come into the world in one way.  Via the Cramston method, this method is different for each species but primarily requires two components the dominant chef and the beta creature.  The chef will, when sufficiently gorged on nutrients and has reached emotional maturity, sidle up to the creature, with its belly and shoulders puffed up.  Then the ‘movements of the night’ will begin, the chef will stand still for a duration of no more than 4 minutes. All the while the creature will place its hands/paws/claws/straws over its eyes to hide from such a display.  This can last from anything from 4 minutes to 5 minutes. Never a second longer.  Once this stance is over, jets of genetic matter will spray fourth from the chefs nose, eyes, ears and lungs into the creature’s receiving pouch (usually located on its halo).  Then in 19 weeks a new baby is delivered via carrier hippo.

It is at this point a farmer will become involved and place the new baby ‘thing’ in a big shed, you’ve probably seen them on farms.  These big sheds have millions of microscopic cots in them for the new babies.  Each baby will get to select a cot which will then determine which university it will be accepted into later in life.  Oh the babies are obviously microscopic or something.  After 3 days the babies will outgrow their cots and have to move into something larger, generally this is a matchbox filled with sand or cat litter, used or un used, it matters not.  The babies will develop their own voice and vocal singing style, usually at this point the farmer will slaughter any babies with a tendency towards country and western after the horrific events of the ‘cotton eye Joe’ incident.  Though this practice is not done world-wide and thus this horrific blight on the musical landscape is still with us.  Due to the high salt and vinegar content in babies leaning towards ‘pop’ music these are usually spared and milked for their savoury milk.

When the infants mature to semi full maturity they are put in fields to graze and contemplate the deeper meanings of the universe and life.  The moment they come to a grand unifying theorem of the universe they are slaughtered and turned into foods such as chicken for dipping, ham based beef disks, hog legs, turtle shell soup and pies, eye slabs and of course spherical spizzas.

Those which never achieve any kind of spiritual or intellectual enlightenment are then split into two distinct categories, the dangly thrust poker and the squishy flap pocket.  They are then formed into pop combos and made to perform on Saturday night light entertainment programs depending if their life story is sob based enough.

I also don’t know anything about what it’s like to live on another planet.  But I know for a fact that the people of Mars live in giant underground antigravity spheres (which are actually rhombus shaped).  They primarily live on a diet of news feeds, information and cress.  They will spend their days working in their interchangeable buffalo fields separating out the various herds of buffalo which each night get mixed together due to very poor field and fence management.  If they’d just invent the gate, they would be fine and have far more leisure time.

The days are hard on Mars, but the nights are harder.  Usually due to all the earth robots raping the native Martians, this is because the suns radiation has caused the robots to become sentient and very very sexually aroused.

The only yearly festival they have on Mars is to celebrate the arrival of ‘King Two Buttocks’ (all Martians only have one large buttock, they have their anus on their forehead).  King Two Buttocks was born with a birth defect which made his buttocks look doubled.  That’s incredibly erotic for Martians.  They all dress up in fake double buttocks and hop (they only have one foot, but 4 legs) to each others houses and pass their bowel motions into other people’s mouths (Martian’s eat their own doings, to feed someone else in this way is the highest compliment imaginable).

Also once a year they have a running/hopping contest to see who has the sexiest ankles.

So there you go, that’s everything I don’t know! And now you know it, so I can now ask you about it, and learn what you know, so I will then know everything there is to know about what I don’t know about.  Or something!

I also don’t know how to use a ‘ correctly’s.

I'm sorry I haven't a clue!
I’m sorry I haven’t a clue!

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