The General Musings of Falkie2013 (George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)

[Yorkshire pud]

no, but when my account was upgraded to "turbo mode" it enabled me to sneak in unrestricted.

Oh well, if you're getting preferential treatment from the so called site owner who frankly isn't liked by many members, although I've offered to mediate; is it any wonder you managed it?

[paladin1991]

Oh well, if you're getting preferential treatment from the so called site owner who frankly isn't liked by many members, although I've offered to mediate; is it any wonder you managed it?

Alright ladies, I'm hitting the rack.  Shut the Fuck Up. No video later.

[SredniVashtar]

Falkie's Christmas Carol

Cast:

Anthony George Senda: 'Falkie' (A useless fat oaf/sponger)

Yorkshire Pud: 'Pud Scratchit' (An illegal immigrant, and Falkie's carer)
Michael Horn: 'Mini Mike' (His insane, appallingly ugly, midget son)

Who: 'Himself' ('The Voice of Conscience')

Falkie's Sister: 'Her/himself' (A cross-dressing, racist loan-shark)
Paladin1991: 'Mr Senda' (Her/his/its husband)

Stave One

Senda was dead: to begin with. Or was he? To be honest, even after sitting through his endless shitty videos it was always hard to be sure whether he was much more than just a slightly lively corpse. Was there was ever any meaningful activity going on inside that fat head? Even on his best days, Senda looked like a moulted guinea pig filled with compressed air, but the appalling heap of noisome lard sprawled across the couch looked as dead as anything I have seen: jaw hanging lifelessly on his chest, the remains of a hot dog â€" half-masticated - dangling out of his mouth; crusty T-shirt (3 weeks and still unwashed) clinging to his flabby, bed-sored chest; flies distressingly agape; Little George poking his sweaty head through the hole; pudgy right hand gripping the (if you can call it that) shaft. Suddenly!

   'Ngghhnm!!'

Senda splutters to what we will loosely call 'life', the ejected hotdog sailing across the room and knocking over his [Redacted] voodoo doll. Dear reader, don't distress yourself. The hero of our story was alive, after all. If only the good die young, this oily heap of misery will soar on well past his 100th birthday. He was just 'busy', that's all...if it was any of your business, which it wasn't!! We all have our ambitions, some humbler than others. While you might want to find a cure for cancer, or help build a hospital for starving African schoolchildren, Senda wants to masturbate to every episode of 'The Men From U.N.C.L.E'. Whether it's the cute little cleft chin, or just the name 'Napoleon Solo' giving him the idea for indulging in the solitary vice, Senda gets his upsetting groove on every time he sees Robert Vaughn in a suit. And, no, he didn't have another stroke â€" the effort of trying to coax his floppy dick into life tired him out and he fell asleep. Despite several appeals on BellGab for someone to come and help him with it, he's had no takers so far, surprisingly.
  Senda's nasty little eyes scanned the room. He looked at the clock â€" it was only 2pm FFS! â€" and fell back to sleep again. One hour later (remember he is NOT a morning person) he decided to get up. Time for breakfast!
  'Scratchit!'
  'Yes, sir, Mr Senda, sir!'
A small, hideously shrivelled man scuttled in, clad in nothing but a turquoise singlet and leather posing pouch. Clutching a pencil and pad in claw-like hands he prepared to take dictation.
  'Give me meats burned like St Joan, and fierce mustards to pierce the tongue like Cardigan's lancers' said Senda, getting all literary. 'And do it fast! Time is money, you know!'
  'Yes, sir, Mr Senda, sir!'
This poor misbegotten wretch was Pud Scratchit; abandoned as a child in the gutters of Yorkshire (not that it's easy to tell the difference there), and forced to eke out a pitiful living as Senda's carer - or, in Senda's elegant formulation, 'house-bitch' - working 18-hour days at his master's beck and call, to support himself and his repellent, crippled child Michael. More on him later.
  While Scratchit is readying his morning snack (the meat equivalent of half a barbecued bison) Senda waddled to the window and gazed upon the scene : lord of all he surveyed, a king among men. It's Christmas Eve and at last, he said to himself, he will finally get a chance to relax. The famous blizzards of Martinez have transformed his area of town (really just a dumping ground for welfare grifters and social outcasts) into a winter wonderland. He chuckled to himself as he recalled the time he entered Sweet Kathy for the Martinez Ski Jumping Championships, and her first attempt created an avalanche that buried half the town. But, he remembered with a quiet smile, it was only the Mexican half. He opened the window and took a deep breath of the invigorating mineral air. 'O, to be young again and have the world at my feet!' he thought. These days, all he has at his feet are his long saggy balls.
  'Breakfast is ready, Mr Senda, sir!'
Senda gasped over to the dining room (the couch again) and flopped down to eat. If you have ever seen vultures tearing at a dead wildebeeste then you get the picture here. Senda paused briefly and looked up from his plate to see Scratchit loitering hesitantly by the door.
  'Yes?' grunted Senda. His melodious voice slightly muffled by about three pounds of anonymous gristle jammed in his face.
  'Well...it's Christmas Eve, sir. You said you'd give me the rest of the day off. I've given your undershorts their monthly scraping and cleaned the, ahem, yoghurt, off your full-length signed George Noory photo. I and Mike were going to spend the rest of the day together. He's quite hideous to look at and mad as a fruitbat, but he's still the product of my loins and I don't like to disappoint him.' 
Senda's one good eye stared contemptuously; the other squinting at god knows what, as usual.
  'Christmas! Bah! STFU! I work 24-hour days. Sometimes I have my eyes closed at the same time, yes, but that's nobody's business. Who's going to report the news from CNN if News Director Senda's not on the case? Tell me that!!??'
  'Umm, CNN?' offered Scratchit, nervously.
  'STFU! Go on, fuck off! Just be here all the earlier tomorrow, that's all. I suppose you want to be, ugh!, paid for your half-holiday too, you north-country nitwit?'
  'If you wouldn't mind, sir' stammered Scratchit.
  'I'll pay you in YouTube views' said Senda. 'By the way, this Mini Mike of yours...'
  'Don't call him that!' hissed Scratchit, in an undertone. 'He's very sensitive about being 2 feet tall and deformed and mad as a snake.'
  'And isn't he older than you, too? How the fuck did that work?'
Scratchit shrugged his shoulders. Senda had a lot to learn. Scratchit thought back to those halcyon days of his youth. Normally the only way you could tell a woman in Yorkshire was the way they all pissed standing up, but there was one woman he met at 3am in a Doncaster car park...blonde and at least seven-feet tall, she said her name was 'Reticularis-24' and that she was from another planet. Scratchit assumed she meant Lancashire, but fucked her anyway. Three days later he heard a knock on the door and found a bundle of old clothes, inside which was a hideously wizened imp. There was a note stuck to its forehead: 'I'm calling it Michael. You want to listen to it talk! And I thought his diapers were full of shit! Here, you take the little bastard, I'm off to join the Penhaligons again!' Scratchit took a vow from that day to care for the little shit as if he were his very own, while reflecting that Mini Mike also happened to be just the right size to plug the hole in the roof of his Martinez favela. 
  'Who can tell us of the mysteries of love, sir?' said Scratchit, visibly moved.
  'God knows I am a very loving person, myself' said Senda. 'I may have driven Sweet Kathy out in the snow yesterday, but at least I gave the slut her bus fare to the homeless shelter. And the haters still call me a self-centred piece of shit. Do you know what she did?'
Scratchit did know, since he had heard the same speech about twenty times already today.
  'She broke my priceless George Noory plush moustache!'
  'Mustache' corrected Scratchit.
  'And Shredded Brain Matter can't even make me talk proper 'murrican, that Limey fag! Go on, get out! And when you return tomorrow, don't forget that I like to think in bed until well past noon, and I have a nude Kath...oh, I forgot, I kicked the bitch out. Well, anyway, I hope you choke on your turkey feet and french fries, and Mini Mike gets carried off by an eagle.'
  'And a Merry Christmas to you too, sir.'

Scratchit scampered out before his boss changed his mind, and Senda was alone for only a few minutes before the bell rang outside his hovel. He shambled to the door, and wheezed out to the stranger:
  'Who is it?'
  'That's right' said the visitor.
  'No, I mean WHO are you?' repeated Senda.
  'We could go on like this for hours, while SV lamely tries to milk an old Abbott and Costello joke for all it's worth. I'm Who. You know, the guy that tries to prick your conscience occasionally?'
  'You're the prick!' said Senda. 'Anyway, I've been conscience for at least the last half hour. I don't need some fancy fruit in a long scarf to tell me to wake up.'
  'You mean “conscious”, Senda.'
  'And don't call me “Senda”. Call me George, you dehumanising bastard!' said Senda.
  'Sorry, Senda. Anyway, as part of my effort to turn you into a slightly less self-centred piece of shit, I am coming to you to ask for a donation to help those less fortunate than yourself this Christmas' said Who.
  'LESS fortunate than ME!!?' roared Senda. 'Do you know what happened to my...'
  'Yes, it's a tragedy what happened to that mustache, Senda, but Christmas is a time for thinking beyond our own petty concerns. I am collecting on behalf of orphaned Mexicans.'
  'STFU!'
  'Orphaned, homeless Mexicans.'
  'STFU!!. Twice.'
  'Orphaned, homeless...amputee Mexicans?' persisted Who.
  'Those limbless spics have it easy' whined Senda. 'I wish I didn't have any legs either, then I wouldn't be screaming in pain all the time. Do you know I have two bad knees, AND my back aches? Plus, I can't even sit down to do an office job because my dead mother keeps possessing my ASS. Don't they have Indian reservations to go to, or something?'
  'No, because they aren't Indians; or, in the correct nomenclature, “Native Americans”, said Who.'
  'They're just feathery Mexicans, that's all. Charity begins at home, that's what I always say, now GET THE FUCK OUT!!' yelled Senda, slamming the door.

Five minutes later, the doorbell rang again:
  'Yoo-hoo!'
  'If that's Who he can go fuck himself!' said Senda.
  'I don't know who Hoo-Hee is, but he sounds like some stinky zipperhead to me. That's no way to talk to your long-lost sister. Georgie, it's me!'
Despite not having talked to her for 45 years, the authentic Senda family traits of unpleasantness and racial bigotry still shone through. It was Falkie's estranged sister, Glenda Senda. Falkie was puzzled for a moment; he thought he was looking in the mirror. The same air of gormlessness, the unfairly abundant hair, the revolting obesity...Glenda was a man! Yes, Glenda Senda was transgender. Recently retired from her life's work, loaning out money to indigent minorities at exorbitant rates of interest, Glenda (or 'Glen', as we now have to call her... him. whatever!) had decided to patch things up with her erring brother George. Glenda Senda (the transgender money-lender) had taken deep draughts of the Christmas spirit and was ready to vomit it all over him.
  'Georgie, darling, I want you to come and spend Christmas with me and my husband. Christmas is a time for families and togetherness, not for inviting yourself over to trough it with people you once accused of rape.'
  'Husband?' said Senda. 'But you're a man now, aren't you?'
  'He's a marine, he's into weird shit, and it's the size of a baby's leg' said Glen, simply. 'They're all like that in the marine corps; two drinks away from gobbling a truck driver. Semper Fag.'
  'I don't know, it seems a bit peculiar to me' said Senda, backing away and trying to shut the door.
  'Look, we can spend the day complaining about what an awful old cow our mother was!' said Glen, smiling encouragingly. 'I remember the time she bought me a new doll's house for my birthday; when she wrapped it up she used the wrong colour ribbon! That evil bitch!'
  'Yeah' said Senda, 'and she used to buy me so many clothes that I couldn't shut the goddamn closet.'
At this point there eyes met for the first time, and they were aware of an unbreakable bond based on fucked-up genes and chronic over-eating. They joined hands and sang out in perfect harmony:
  'MAY SHE BURN IN HELL!!'
  'Alright, then that's settled' said Glen. 'See you tomorrow. My Pallikins is keen to meet you. He said he can't wait to meet the man behind those fascinating videos of yours. He loved the way you coped with all the names during your reporting of the earthquake in Afghanistan. You could have been a Pashmina tribesman!'
  'I'll see' said Senda. 'I'm always keen to meet my many fans, but I have several important projects bubbling right now.'
  'The only thing you've got bubbling right now is that “Conspiracy Expert” T-shirt of yours. Jesus wept, man! that thing will walk around on its own before too long! I shall expect you tomorrow. If you don't show, I'll get my little Pally-Wally to give you a call, and you'd better pick up the phone!' said Glen.
  'If your husband is a marine, does that mean I can go to the VA every time I collapse from binge-eating and need a stomach pump? I get sick of waiting in the ER with all those jungle bunnies.'
  'Mr Senda is incorruptible. It's why I love him. Well, that and the baby's leg.'
  'Mr Senda?' said Falkie. 'Why did he take your name?'
  'Oh, he'll do anything for me' said Glen, giggling. 'And it's very hard for someone to object when you're sitting on their FACE!!'
And with that â€" remembering that it was half-price day at Popeye's, and it always gave her a chance to punch a few blacks in the lunchtime rush â€" Glen stumped off, leaving Senda alone again.

Peace at last! Senda went back to doing what he does best: sleeping. Halfway through a particularly exciting dream which saw Sir Galahad of Senda rescuing Lady Georgina of Noory from the clutches of a fire-breathing Sweet Kathy, Senda suddenly awoke, and was aware of a foul stench in the air. Yes, that may have had something to do with the three months of dirty laundy piled up in the corner, but there was something else â€" the smell of putrid brimstone. Through a greenish fog he could see two spectral figures approaching: one was a heap of fiery clothes with two eyes peering out, while the other looked like an upturned bathtub. With a shiver of horror, Falkie realised that he was staring at his own dead parents: Wanda Senda, and her husband Genghis.

(to be continued...)

[Yorkshire pud]

Very good so far. None taken.

[Inglorious Bitch]

Falkie's Christmas Carol


(to be continued...)

Bwah!! You had me on the floor!

[WhiteCrow]

no, but when my account was upgraded to "turbo mode" it enabled me to sneak in unrestricted.

Life just isn't fair... How many more Praises and Donations to MV before my account gets the "turbo mode" upgrade?

Praise Donate To MV

Merry Christmas ....    Bud 

[WhiteCrow]

Bwah!! You had me on the floor!

Falkie's Christmas Carol..maybe needs a little more sweetness...  Kind hearted IB as Little Dorrit ...hint hint

[Who]

Falkie's Christmas Carol

[SredniVashtar]

You had me on the floor!

That's how you got the nod to be cast in Stave two. 

[Yorkshire pud]

Bwah!! You had me on the floor!

Yeah but what did you think of the story?

Daaaa boooom.

[SredniVashtar]

Falkie's Christmas Carol..maybe needs a little more sweetness...  Kind hearted IB as Little Dorrit ...hint hint

I am not going for heartwarming, more heartburning. Think Falkie after he ate those two partially defrosted chickens. And IB will get her moment in the sun. Be patient. If I can't find a decent role for all of you by the end, I will just write an enormous orgy scene and make sure Senda has his nasty way with each and every one of you. You're welcome.

[Yorkshire pud]

I am not going for heartwarming, more heartburning. Think Falkie after he ate those two partially defrosted chickens. And IB will get her moment in the sun. Be patient. If I can't find a decent role for all of you by the end, I will just write an enormous orgy scene and make sure Senda has his nasty way with each and every one of you. You're welcome.

Again: none taken.

[SredniVashtar]

Again: none taken.

You asked for it! I am nothing if not a man of my word. I am still waiting for the response of the Martinez judges. I hope Paladin appreciates being made Senda's brother-in-law too. There's really nothing too despicable for me to include in this one. 

[Yorkshire pud]

You asked for it! I am nothing if not a man of my word. I am still waiting for the response of the Martinez judges. I hope Paladin appreciates being made Senda's brother-in-law too. There's really nothing too despicable for me to include in this one. 

Brother on law married to Senda's transgendered sibling? Hmm, Paladin will be completely cool with that. Completely.

[WhiteCrow]

I am not going for heartwarming, more heartburning. Think Falkie after he ate those two partially defrosted chickens. And IB will get her moment in the sun. Be patient. If I can't find a decent role for all of you by the end, I will just write an enormous orgy scene and make sure Senda has his nasty way with each and every one of you. You're welcome.

woe is me... to advise the mighty wordsmith SV... little dorrit with her needles and threads can be quite nasty ... in her sweet way... Just saying.. All in your good hands, I'm a fan 

[Yorkshire pud]

woe is me... to advise the mighty wordsmith SV... little dorrit with her needles and threads can be quite nasty ... in her sweet way... Just saying.. All in your good hands, I'm a fan 

Do we venture into cloying, toe curlingly vomit inducing sycophancy? SV da man? Loving his work?

[Who]

The Art of the Grift



I only get so much a month.  And after I pay my rent I have to pay the for lights.  For the internet.  For my girlfriend’s car insurance.  A car that I don’t drive very much if at all.  I shouldn’t be driving it but there are times she’s too sick or tired and I have to take over.  And all my other bills. 



I took a trip to Sacramento.  It cost me almost 200 dollars.  The convention wasn’t very good.  And because I didn’t get a ride up there I threw out my back and my knee got swollen.  And I had a horrible time.  But I presented the videos of my going there.

But presenting these videos to you, and I’ve done what I think is some great stuff.  I beat CBS News by 7 minutes.



And then you have this problem.  This is Apple’s iPad charger cable.  They don’t come out of the box like this, folks.  No, no, no.  But here’s the problem.  The rubber pulls away from the wire, like this.  So I go down to the Apple store.  And I’ve already gotten four of these.  In a year.  Every time I go to get a new cable it costs me 20 bucks. 

All of this costs me money.  It costs me time.  It costs me effort. Sometimes it costs me health and sleep.  And I have a limited amount of money to work with every month.  And once I pay my rent it goes.  So what I’m asking you 240 subscribers to do . . .

[Yorkshire pud]

The Art of the Grift

So what I’m asking you 240 subscribers to do . . .

...is pay for my indolence, frippery indulgence, dreadful diet and morbidly obese existence in my cess pit of filth and grabbing.

[BellBoy]

Brother on law married to Senda's transgendered sibling? Hmm, Paladin will be completely cool with that. Completely.

Glenda Senda the transgender money-lender... an excruciatingly hilarious name, especially when spoken with an East End accent. I'm laughing so hard, it hurts.

[Yorkshire pud]

Glenda Senda the transgender money-lender... an excruciatingly hilarious name, especially when spoken with an East End accent. I'm laughing so hard, it hurts.

Oh fuck yes, now you put it like that...


Okay colonists the phonetic version....

Glenda'r Senda'r the trainsgend'ar mannee laynd'ar.

[BellBoy]

Oh fuck yes, now you put it like that...


Okay colonists the phonetic version....

Glenda'r Senda'r the trainsgend'ar mannee laynd'ar.

EXACTLY!

(and you just know that SV talks like that, IRL... when he's not putting on airs and shit)

[Yorkshire pud]

EXACTLY!

(and you just know that SV talks like that, IRL... when he's not putting on airs and shit)

The voice on GC is his ventriloquist dummy, it isn't him. He sounds like Dennis Waterman in real life.

[BellBoy]

The voice on GC is his ventriloquist dummy, it isn't him. He sounds like Dennis Waterman in real life.

heh heh!

[Who]

Okay colonists the phonetic version....

Glenda'r Senda'r the trainsgend'ar mannee laynd'ar.

Glenda'r . . . Senda'r . . . the trains . . . gend'ar . . .



I believe he said, "Glenda'r Senda'r the trainsgend'ar mannee laynd'ar." 

[Yorkshire pud]

Glenda'r . . . Senda'r . . . the trains . . . gend'ar . . .



I believe he said, "Glenda'r Senda'r the trainsgend'ar mannee laynd'ar."

He wears a raccoon hat most days too! But it I thought it wasn't common knowledge.

[Defwhale]

The Art of the Grift

I only get so much a month.  And after I pay my rent I have to pay the for lights.  For the internet.  For my girlfriend’s car insurance.  A car that I don’t drive very much if at all.  I shouldn’t be driving it but there are times she’s too sick or tired and I have to take over.  And all my other bills. 

I took a trip to Sacramento.  It cost me almost 200 dollars.  The convention wasn’t very good.  And because I didn’t get a ride up there I threw out my back and my knee got swollen.  And I had a horrible time.  But I presented the videos of my going there.

But presenting these videos to you, and I’ve done what I think is some great stuff.  I beat CBS News by 7 minutes.

And then you have this problem.  This is Apple’s iPad charger cable.  They don’t come out of the box like this, folks.  No, no, no.  But here’s the problem.  The rubber pulls away from the wire, like this.  So I go down to the Apple store.  And I’ve already gotten four of these.  In a year.  Every time I go to get a new cable it costs me 20 bucks. 

All of this costs me money.  It costs me time.  It costs me effort. Sometimes it costs me health and sleep.  And I have a limited amount of money to work with every month.  And once I pay my rent it goes.  So what I’m asking you 240 subscribers to do . . .

None of this is any of our business, of course.  Certainly the financial aspects, about which we've been endlessly told to STFU.  Except when it's time for a little panhandling around the holidays, then it's the business of the select few who may be inclined to give him money.

For some reason he didn't mention the storage units, where he dropped off his hoarded treasures because his apartment was so loaded with junk it couldn't meet fire code without clearing some of it out.  The first check he wrote for those units was more than that stuff was worth, and presumably he's been making monthly payments steadily.  I'd love to see the look on the face of whichever storage unit bidder buys that stuff sight unseen at auction after Falkie stops making his monthly payments.

[Defwhale]

Is it really possible Falkie thinks even one of his subscribers watches his videos and takes them seriously? 

Falkie, take a step back and try to watch a few of your videos objectively, if even you can get all the way through them.  Do you really see something other than videos done quite badly, along with pointless commentary by some blowhard?  If so, what?  What is it about any of them that anyone would find useful on any level?

[Yorkshire pud]

Is it really possible Falkie thinks even one of his subscribers watches his videos and takes them seriously? 

Probably

Falkie, take a step back and try to watch your videos objectively.  Do you really see something other than videos done quite poorly, along with pointless commentary by some blowhard?  If so, what?  What is it about any of them that anyone would take seriously?

Rhetorical questions he can't answer.

[Defwhale]

Probably

Rhetorical questions he can't answer.

Back when Patty was useful to Falkie, cleaning his place, bringing him food, driving him around, and taking Kathy off his hands for a few hours here and there, even then she made it clear she wanted to be excluded from the videos.  Not that he respected that. 

It was clear he demanded Kathy do videos of her own, and that she didn't want to do them either.  And in fact thought his were a ridiculous waste of time.  In case Falkie missed it, it's her body language, lack of enthusiasm, and the tell tale "Ok, I'll do it'' snarl at the beginning of one of them.

Even that pair realized they were useless and embarrassing, but Falkie gets just enough encouragement from people pretending to be his friends on the internet, and from George Noory who's interest is in schmoozing a detractor, to think otherwise.  Somehow his own gut feeling is either being ignored, or isn't working properly.

[Who]

Somehow his own gut feeling is either being ignored, or isn't working properly.

There's a whole lot of Senda that's not working properly.  His brain.  His conscience.  His values.  His integrity.  His logic.  His concept of reality. . .