Why The Metric System Is Gay

It occurs to me that this is an ex-blog, really. Its existence is minimal, if at all.

But it still gets a trickle of hits, mostly from people searching for ‘Feroze Gandhi’.

But sometimes, people come here with questions. Such as: ‘why the metric system is gay’, so, I thought I would kindly answer such queries, in case anyone ever has them again.

Question 1: ‘Why the metric system is gay?’

Answer: The Metric System does not exist. Thus, it cannot be gay.

Question 2: ‘Explain the history of compound interest?’

Answer: It all began long ago, in a time known as the Roman Empire. They did not like compound interest, and thus it was banned. In the Quran, we are instructed to ‘Devour not usury’. Even then, they recognised that eating nonphysical things is completely pointless. And then the Renaissance happened, and people realised that lending money could be good. Thus, compound interest was freed from the control of the International Jewish Conspiracy and remains the property of all today.

Question 3: ‘Where to buy large leaf dilmah green tea?’

Answer: Your local supermarket, I imagine. It’ll be in aisle 2.

Question 4: ‘What was mussolini’s interest?’

Answer: Judging by other search terms, the pope, crossdressing, Sonia Gandhi, Nixon, Obama, moustaches and Kim Jong-Il.

Question 5: ‘What is the triforce of dinner?’

Answer: Binging that phrase brings us this Youtube Video, which explains all.

Question 6: ‘What’s a poem about compound interest?’

Answer: As an ex-Archaeology student, I feel especially qualified to answer this inquiry.

Roses are Blue

Violets are Red

Compound interest exhibits satisfiability

And so does Lake Bled

It’s almost World War One?

As regular Blogees (people who don’t visit at least 4 times a day suck, by the way) will no doubt have noticed, more than 1900 hits have been contracted by my blog, which means that if my number of blog hist were the year, it would be 1901, the year in which Australia became one nation, and Queen Victoria died. Thus, it is time for  a super-special blog. Which brings us to the epic poem, which I (your glorious proletarian blogger) wrote in Year 10 (featuring half-hearted attempts at rhyming, before degenerating into an epic free verse).

Poem of poems and places like Nome

This little poem,
Was written in Nome,
By a little green gnome,
Who lived in an orange dome.

That dome,
Somewhere in Nome,
Is possessed by,
The devil’s pet fly.

The previous two stanzas,
Do not involve panzers,
Have nothing to do with this poem,
And are all lies

Lies,
Concocted by little green flies,
Who may use the Deutsche Mark,
But don’t live in Denmark

So we live on an Island,
Which is nowhere near Ireland,
But we don’t use the Deutsche Mark,
Even though, ZEALAND IS IN DENMARK.

The Falklands are an archipelago situated in the southern Atlantic Ocean.
No one there can make a magic potion,
Unlike Harry Potter.
Or that pot plant that nearly knocked me unconscious.

As far as I know this poem has no deep spiritual meaning,
Or worshipped by green gnomes,
Which live in orange domes,
Who write nonsensical poems.

So on this island,
Which is not to be confused with Ireland,
Or Iceland or greenland or Scotland,
Or England or even Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitanatahu.

So this is the end,
i won’t go to Tailem Bend,
I will go to Alaska,
Or maybe Nebraska.

Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitanatahu,
It’s the longest place name in the world,
It tells a story about some Maori hero person,
And his nose flute.

THE END!!!

As you can see, the younger version of myself was clearly insane (this has not changed very much, seemingly). It was actually submitted for an English Assignment, and it received a C.