once upon a time there was a little boy called Blooter.... his mother told him one day when he was 5 that she would be leaving him to go work educating some poor mountain tribe in the andes in south america, and that he would be left with his 'aunt' lee lee who was a very fat chinese woman and who was not technically his aunt
one day aunt lee lee got stuck on the beach and some people from greenpeace had to help her out... it was very embarrassing for Blooter... every year in the spring, Blooter's mother would fly home from the Andes, she'd always joke about how it was the Fall over there........then Blooter wouldn't see her for a year
at school, everyone eschewed him after one day some random kid approached him and called him 'Blooter'.... 'hey look everyone, it's Blooter'..... everybody looked at him slack-jawed, waiting to see how he would respond, he didn't know how to respond, after that he was a pariah and everybody called him Blooter
after high school he went to Hollywood, he figured he might fit in there but lots of people told him Blooters weren't welcome in Hollywood, try the great plains, so he headed east to the plains but nobody there wanted Blooters, not even prairie rodents did....... so he headed for the mountains, nobody in mountain country had heard of or needed a Blooter so Blooter went home
then one day Mr. Smith, the boss of the country club gave Blooter a job......Mr. Smith didn't know Blooter's real name was Blooter but anyway he was very anti-Blooter....he had Blooter make signs like: death to Blooters and Blooters will be shot and Blooters go home........ Blooter was happy to do so as Mr. Smith never knew his name was Blooter and neither did anyone else........but one day, somebody that knew Blooter said he was a Blooter and Mr. Smith pointed to the door: 'Blooters aren't welcome 'round these parts son.'
Blooter decided to go on a self-help tv show, with the retirement of Oprah, the big thing in self-help tv was Fat Hugga, that was really her name, Fat Hugga was some fat lady from Jamaica that gave everyone that appeared on her show a big hug and the cameramen on her show were instructed to pull close ups of impressionable audience members crying and dabbing their eyes with kleenex
'Poor Blooter, poor Blooter, nobody ever loved you,' said Fat Hugga (that was her real name) holding Blooter tightly to her considerably large girdle so that Blooter could barely breath
then Blooter tried getting a job, one day he was walking past Home Depot and heard some people there talking about Blootered, he approached them but they were standing around a septic tank and were actually saying Blew Turd (TM)........ it was a hard day for Blooter but he told himself that Blooter is as Blooter does and kept on walking with his head up..... then Blooter walked past a service station where a stereo-typical indian guy from india seemed to be saying his name over and over again.....
'excuse me, are you saying Blooter?' asked Blooter....
'no, I'm saying blurted, i'm talking to my cousin Sanjay about a party, somebody blurted something very inappropriately...'
'oh, i see,' said Blooter and walked out disappointed again
(insert forlorn music soundtrack/tracking shots of Blooter walking next to a lake)
finally, Blooter came up with a plan of action:
1) get psychiatric help, become a legal druggie, turn into a zombie for life on legal pharmaceutical drugs, never to be cured, he wasn't sure if Obama-care would cover that, if not, how would he pay for it? robbing a bank seemed highly undesirable
2) shoot up a bunch of people with a semi-automatic machine gun, from Texas if he had to go there, but who to shoot up? probably Mr. Smith and the country club people plus his old school and his old town..... the pros were seeing all the carnage and having people running in fear from him, screaming and bleeding, the cons were the consequences, e.g., in the afterlife if he had to die to avoid a long court case
3) a Blotting company in Scotland specializing in inks and pens offered him a job, over there everyone pronounced Blotting as Blooting.... that could be a winner
4) join the Peace Corps and go to Zanzibar in Africa for a couple of years
after much deliberation, Blooter chose the last option (Zanzibar)
shortly afterwards, relatively speaking, Blooter found himself inside one of those ever rarer creations: a travel agent...........
'name?' asked the travel agency......
'Blooter' replied Blooter..........
'can i see your passport honey?' asked the travel agent sceptically......... one of her eye-brows raised perceptively as she saw a picture of Blooter and under name it said: Blooter B Blooter, date of birth: 1st of Blooter nineteen eighty blooter....... wow! was that even a year she thought? oh well, the passport looked real, maybe she forgot to take her meds that morning, better to just type all the details into the system, if the system could swallow it then so could she...........
'when do you want to fly Blooter?' asked the travel agent.....
'on the 7th of next month' answered Blooter.
(insert shot of jumbo jet flying overhead........ then a shot of 'welcome to tanzania' at the local airport'.... establishing shots of streets and sights in Zanzibar and then happy go lucky music winds down esthetically as Blooter arrives at his hotel while scratching his head looking at a slip of paper)
what an amazing little island full of history thought Blooter......... with its arabic and portuguese influences.... the arabs from oman and before that from who knows where, the malays that had passed through.... the persians, the indians from india....... the buildings and bridges seemed to be almost oozing a palpable atmosphere that spoke of times and conditions centuries past....
at the hotel, the Peace Corps folks doled out assignments... Blooter was stuck with sponge-bathing senior citizens.... for two years.... he got a kit with a spongebob squarepants (TM) t-shirt and some sponges and suchlike.......
a while into his stint he made friends with one of the local females who he found attractive.... all of a sudden, for the first time ever since he murdered his college university professor that was a passionate nietzsche reader, and probably before that too, he realized that being an american citizen was like money in the bank in terms of prestige abroad.............. b-52 bombers, d-day, elvis presley, hiroshima and nagasaki.... it was all stuff he could now claim as his own and boast about.... wow, and imagine he had been sitting around at home back in america dreaming up plans to murder his taunters.....
'so is it true in america that cows that are black and white are given the same rights as cows that are purely white?' asked Blooter's girlfriend.
'yes, that's true,' answered Blooter, suddenly proud of his Nation's civil rights for cows.
'so then, if you have a cow that has mostly black hair, but some of it's hair is white....'
'yes, equal rights, no discrimination against cows with dark hair,' answered Blooter.
'wow,' said Blooter's girlfriend, 'what a country, and who is this George Michael you speak of?'
'he controls the money, if he wants pink money, they make the cash pink, if one day he wakes up and wants purple colored bills, then purple it is, he's the money man....' said Blooter
'and he's also a famous singer?' asked Blooter's girlfriend
'yes, that's right, they sell his records here in Zanzibar.'
'yes, that's right,' said Blooter's girlfriend, 'tell me about him, is it true what you said, that he is from Boston and played for the New York Knicks before studying a double major in pop music and finance?'
'yes, that's absolutely true,' answered Blooter.
'what position did he play?'
'power forward,' answered Blooter.
suddenly some random local african person, possibly a moslem, approached Blooter and asked him, 'you're name is Blooter, isn't it?' to which Blooter nodded.
The African then grabbed Blooter by the shirt... 'this is an outrage!' then he threw Blooter to the ground and looked at Blooter's girlfriend; 'how can he be called Blooter! that is sacrilege! doesn't he know what a Blooter is???' he asked the girl both incredulously and angrily.
'I didn't know his name was Blooter!' the girl said very convincingly.
Blooter picked himself up and asked what Blooter meant in their culture.
The African guy was shocked. 'A Blooter is a popsicle, are you crazy? You don't know what a Blooter is about?'
It seemed that various white devils and Arabic devils too, who would be some kind of beige colored devils although technically not white, had exploited that part of Africa for the wood there to use it for the little sticks inside those cold icy treats so popular with folks with electrical refrigeration in the summertime when it's hot, commonly referred to as popsicles. Blooter's girlfriend quickly explained to him that the white devils from various multinational corporations acting on behalf of white people in general had instigated wholesale slaughters, e.g., between the Hutus and other folks in Rwanda's civil war over such trivial things as to whether a popsicle should be called a popsicle or an icy pole. The white devils had manipulated the Hutus in Rwanda in the early 1990s to kill the other ethnic majority because the other side called popsicles icy poles when they should be referred to as popsicles.
Blooter was flabbergasted, he had no idea about this important aspect of history, his girlfriend went on to explain that Jesus had even died, nailed to two giant popsicle sticks because he refused to believe lemonade was a delicious and tasty treat. His entire worldview had been turned upside down, and as if that impossible situation for his poor little psyche wasn't enough, the African guy now wanted to kill him. His new girlfriend saw what was going on and grabbed him by the wrist and drug him to a nearby motor vehicle, the two jumped in and drove off while the owner returned a moment later and watched them take off with his car, meantime the angry African assailant took another nearby car and gave chase. A big car chase scene ensued which is understandable as market research has proven again and again that movie viewers enjoy watching them, this one was actually shot in Morocco despite being set in Zanzibar, only the close up shots featured Blooter and his girlfriend and the assailant and they were shot in a studio in northern Canada with a bright green background, all of the other more exterior shots showing the various daring turns and twists and side-swipes of the car chase was performed by professional stunt drivers who were able to perform maneuvers most movie stars and normal people cannot perform.
![]() |
the Tutsis in Rwanda were manipulated by the white devil to believe popsicles were really Icy Poles |
![]() |
the white devils were able to persuade the Hutus in Rwanda that popsicles could never be icy poles and the Tutsis should therefore be slaughtered in the hundreds of thousands.... tragedy ensued |
finally, after a long and exciting car chase... Blooter and his girlfriend escape on foot with some random and exciting explosions licking their heels with fiery balls......... Blooter's girlfriend explained that she worked for a tourism service and the chase and assailant were really part of a service for tourists who were adventurous... at that moment the assailant's head popped out of a garbage can next to Blooter and said, 'yes, that's right, I'm just an actor employed by Wonder Safaris who entertains adventurous travelers interested in having an adventurous time, I believe this is where Africa's future truly lies: in adventure tourism'..... then the assailant's head ducked back down and the lid on the garbage can did too.... but Blooter couldn't see how his body could possibly be able to fit under the trash can as it was placed on top of a transparent wooden crate... and the trash can was too small to hold the assailant's body. Clearly Blooter must have been dreaming and too sleepy to be aware of dreaming.
Then he looked up and the girl and the assailant were gone... instead he was on a street and scores and scores of severed human heads, all African, were rolling towards him... 'avenge us, avenge us,' they murmured.... then he was in a bowling alley grabbing a ball, as he approached to release the ball he looked down at the moment he released the ball and he had his fingers in two empty eye sockets and a mouth.... the mouth has sucking on his thumb too, as he released it it cried, 'avenge us!' and scored a strike.... the computer screen at the bowling alley said STRIKE in bold letters and played a little celebratory graphic.... Blooter screamed.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zanzibar
http://www.csmonitor.com/Commentary/Opinion/2013/0118/Lessons-from-Rwanda-Talking-about-genocide-in-church