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A Dummy Dreams


Hola Guys,

Mister Trivia has invited me to write on his blog again ¬(in lieu of last week’s salary, but the less said about this, the better - cheap bastard). He said I could choose any topic that interested me, so I have chosen the Realm of Dreams.

You may ask if a Ventriloquial Facilitator (my actual job title) dreams and of course the answer is “Hells, yeah!” Nerds will recall the movie 2010 made back in 1984 which was the sequel of 2001 made back in 1968 (you’re getting this, right?). In it, the SAL 9000, the next model on from the redesigned HAL 9000 asks some science nerd (Dr Chandra) about what will happen when she (the SAL 9000) is switched off. If memory serves, some kind of compute error is preventing Chandra from exiting Internet Explorer.  It's just frozen there onscreen. He is embarrassed his colleagues will arrive and he'll have to explain why he is on Ebay bidding for a dozen “dental gags”. So the Doc is about to power down the SAL 9000 when this exchange takes place:

SAL-9000: Will I dream?
Dr. Chandra: Of course you will. All intelligent beings dream.  Nobody knows why.

In a number of university tests, my IQ mostly clocks in at a wopping 210, although on  one occasion I tested a mere 190. Pro-tip, don’t embark on one of these IQ Test after watching Channel 10’s THE RENOVATORS.

So like most intelligent beings, I dream every night. My dreams are usually about my suddenly becoming a real boy, then becoming a contestant on SURVIVOR and owning those weak bastards who are my so-called opponents. Owning them hard. I have no heart, so I would be pitiless in outwitting and outlasting the pitiful hu-mans against whom I would be playing. At this point, pedants amongst my fans may wish to point out that in this scenario, I too would be a hu-man. But I would have had no time to develop the weaknesses of hu-man emotion; conscience and empathy are concepts that can only evolve through interaction with other human beings. Andrew Bolt is the exception to this rule.

Sometimes I dream about appearing on Liz Hurley's doorstep and saying I'm Shane Warne's illegitimate son. Or I dream of creating a navy blue marshmallow. Or I dream of winning the Tour De France on a unicycle. More whimsically, I dream of selling 2Dayfm's Kyle and Jackie O for scientific experiments.

Some might say I am conflating day-dreams with the type of dreaming one does whilst slumbering. However, these two categories of dream can mesh. One recurring dream I've had most weeks since 1993 was that I was the fourth member of Aussie band The Sharp. Ever since their mega hit Talking Sly hit the airwaves, I have dreamt day and night I could join this savvy, bunch of musical hipsters.

Dreams are important, my children.

Yours Sincerely,
Porter Thorrity




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