The most astonishing reason why street mimes are generally creepy is that they refuse to accept the current transport system or even acknowledge that blue vein cheese is such an essential part of our diet alongside the recommended daily intake of awkward silence (bus stop or otherwise) and public confusion which are both just rebellious outcries against the tyranny of the so-called blimp industry which is, as we speak, just realising that lamb is obsolete and should be replaced by tantalisingly crunchy grasshopper snacks as soon as we get rid of the fascist moths in the attic who seem to be watching my every move which wouldn't be too much of a fun hobby as I am reading a newspaper and how long would anyone want to watch someone read a newspaper for is the question scientists have been asking for decades only to be answered by a phone recording repeating 'please check the number and try again' or the big hairy chef guy behind the counter giving them a narrow eye and demanding that they try the shifty lunch specials or get out, which isn't a very logical way of presenting himself to the scientist he was attracted to at the time who had run away from the circus to join a catering firm, but could never forget the salad days at the freakshow circus where they point and laugh at the helpless midget in the bear suit who always wanted instead to be a sketchy fat chef standing behind the counter and giving the tourists that look which they misinterpret as a tough guy threat look but which is actually a misguided way of saying 'I love you, but get your foot off my toes because after a while my ingrown toenails will actually extend their range to ingrowing toes and even my whole foot seems to be ingrowing and has it really been six years?' he says through his puppy dog eyes which begin to leak from lack of vitamin F which astoundingly, can be found in 'Corn Bag', the new edible product range from Mattel but which is only sold in a remote part of Mexico, a place called 'El Muncho' which translated means 'if it's brown flush it down' in Spanish but seriously, consider this: their language should be called Mexican not Spanish because it just isn't Spain and anyhoo, why would anyone want to live in a place called Spain which sounds like 'pain' or 'slain' but actually means 'the road to el dorito', to borrow a cliche from an entirely different book titled 'El Dorito: The Road To' which amazes politicians as to how it remains unrelated because in reality, everything is related and we are all just dirty inbreds scrabbling for a piece of the big pie, yum yum; of course, not every reality show host has that opinion and I cannot stress this enough that people don't get stressed enough or have enough stresses to appease their pagan gods who are actually two neurotic kids in a hot air balloon with a megaphone singing 'oo la ley' which was a song not invented at the time so in a twisted way those kids were worthy of the sacrifices made by their people but hot dang, little did they realise that global warming would eventually pop their hot air balloon and they would shoot around with a funny high-pitched squeal before plummeting to the earth in horrid wreckage to which the village chief would react by saying that the gods weren't happy, maybe they were churning the butter wrong so they imported specialists to do it for them and that seemed to do the trick and the country prospered for yonks ever after, yet meanwhile the jealous neighbouring countries were silently plotting against them but they did it so silently it began to get awkward and they quickly moved the conversation on to other things, like contemplating how ancient Egypt got broadband coverage when they couldn't, it's so unfair, boo-hoo, luckily their fluffy pets rubbed up against their legs and they felt all better so that one of the most annoying wars in history was avoided, which could have taken on a pathetic reputation as the 'Nerd War' involving lame virtual conflicts and viruses being sent back and forth and bad comments being put on ancient Egypt's myspace to which they reacted with a hack into Pakistan's public relations webpage and modified it to include excessive swearing and references to the 'infidel white race' which ensured that their tourism industry was fatally damaged and the poor guys in the Pakistani pizza carts relying on the tourists for business went bankrupt, and the bank itself rupted as the entire economy fell into ruin because those poor pizza guys constitute 95% of the Pakistani food industry but it wasn't all that bad, because without all the chubby sunburnt english tourists the locals had more time to pursue their ACE courses in curry studies in piece, I mean peace, damn those simple mistakes to Heck because I remember being told one time about a small child who worked for one of the largest newspaper companies in the world, who had been found murdered soon after he let loose the worst typo in history, a front page header written originally as 'Mucking Up On The Beach' but when the kid edited it, a letter F came into play but we shall leave that story to the mists of history as I seem to be avoiding the real issue here, the troubling fact that you are staring at my crotch with a hungry look in your eyes which is beginning to frighten me and my teddy bear Gustav, the bear with attitude and a thick German accent who likes to dance and gosh darn it, they say he is a damn good dancer but only when he is happy and he knows it and claps his hands which gets me to thinking: is the happy a result of the hand-clapping or are you really only happy when you know it - but deep thinking like that always lands me in front of the psychiatrist who stares at me with a moustache before writing something on his notepad which I later found out was his 'dear diary' entry for the day, detailing what he ate for breakfast and how it tasted and how many molecules were in each crunch and why, all the while thinking to himself 'I never wanted to be a psychiatrist, i wanted to be.... a lumberjack' but he tried that bit already and the pay maybe wasn't too great, but on the plus side you could be okay and work all night and sleep all day, hang on, that was another darn typo which I would rather blame on the pen because last time I blamed myself for something, I ended up in front of the same psychiatrist who seemed a little different to before, a little hairier and scratching his bum and repeatedly offering me peanuts, which after I turned down for the fifth time, let loose an ear-piercing shriek, attacked me with his teeth and ran out of the room in ape-like fury but don't give me that look, he wasn't really a monkey because how many monkeys get to go through university to get a Ph D in psychiatry and how many monkeys can fake qualifications like real psychiatrists do when in fact they are actually janitors in disguise getting some side cash and while they're at it, getting in on some of the psychiatrist 'free love' communities and conning some more people into they's pyramid schemes which were originally devised by ancient Egypt while a drug raid was going down next door and it was a good tafe course I learnt a lot and had lots of fun amen.
Every one is talking about the credit crunch, a looming depression, an economic downfall. What ever happens, it is obvious that we are in for some harder times. Money will be tight. People will not be spending like they use to and some industries will be hit harder than others. This brings me to the question: will people still need graphic design?
