I Speak Fluent Dude. (cert: R18 -unapologetically forthright)
What is ‘Fluent Dude’? For those that don’t know, fittingly they are the only ones to ask that question; of which is not exactly a remarkable phenomenon when considering the outlawing of such a vastly known, yet rarely spoken vernacular.
Coincidentally enough, amongst friends, acquaintances, companions and comrades alike, friends whose purpose it seems is to regularly comprehend the linear harmonies of life, nailed down for an answer, of what it is speaking ‘fluent dude’ entails, instead of wording the implications of reality’s cultural premise, the deep-rooted, socio-dogmatic stimuluses, and not forgetting the sways of Molotov tendencies, high on the idea of sawing with the aid of a cape called infinite justice, in search of peace of mind, offered was the opportunity to present particular scenarios, of social consequence, and listen to speaking ‘fluent dude’ elaborate on one’s particular position, most likely a self-same rooted stance.
Sadie: What’s your idea of being a good man, a good Father?
Fluent Dude: Well, towing the colloquial line, and in many respects rightly so, I’d say my idea of being a good man is essentially not being something the world could do without, to be a good man; to be unapologetically benevolent, do no harm unto others, respect and honour women whenever conscience can, and strive for everyday improvement in whatever it is profession does. And being a good Father? Essentially protect, define, provide and inspire, till one’s dying day with love. Then fluent dude would say; I’m a pugilist first, a capitalist first, an effected love story first, a rebellious revolutionary second and a lover third, and a bemused array of supplementary bullshit after that, and the qualities of my man and fatherhood ultimately hinge on that, which ultimately means, when looking at the idea you’ve presented, my aim is, even if I’ve got a nappy-head at a Far Right pep-rally prospect of loosening the clutches of life’s sincere bitch, I’d be inclined to take it.
Justin: So, what’s your opinion on Donald Trump’s time in office, thus far, in the main his impact on the global political landscape?
Fluent Dude: This is where the fluent dude might get a bit animated, and duly not care. It’s fair to say after two generations of global interconnectedness, the post-World War II order is fraying, next to no global growth and 24hour News inequality, refugee flows, civil wars and the ascent of political characters espousing vile, nationalist and protectionist poses, along comes Trump, with his thinning hair, obvious manufactured tan, salivating at the mouth to spout his sexist, racist and “erogenous” ideologies, leaving fluent dude to wonder when will somebody have the unapologetic, full-sized nuts to look through scopes on remote hills at such a buffoon, and squeeze, and don’t pause, because in every way, such a prick is principally something the world can well do without right now.
Joanne: How do you like your women?
Fluent Dude: Here we go; the blatant and the obvious. Well, I dream of bliss in the doting company of a consummate mother-whore, if that’s not at all possible, hence it rarely ever is, I like my women without the need for more pharmaceuticals than GlaxoSmithKline, I’d like her to have her own hair, and be content with that, and if not really understand that the misunderstood speaks of self-love, well and truly out of love. I’d like her to need me, as oppose to wanting me, and if she understands the manly insecurities’ that the latter alludes to, and recognises that essentially such a need, would enable me to feel better about me, essentially because somebody still wants this riddled soul, then no doubt I’d love her even more. I like my women to understand that it’s never been a man’s world, and despite all they’ve ever known I’m actually okay with that. And oh yeah, on a different note, I regret every single penny of £39.95 a’ month trying to find this particular women, if I say so myself, in the age of new ways to find love, what an absolute waste of time, money, and energy, and in that respect cupid can kiss my arises with his tongue hanging out.
Paige: Work.
Fluent Dude: That’s right, not even a question, the four letters, and in that order speak for themselves. For me everybody I work with is everybody like everybody else, all they want to do is go home and nuke their dinners, practice bad sex and count money they haven’t got, of which work just ain’t paying, and because work is essentially 8-10 hours, of what feels like every godforsaken day, wishing that attention was respected at school, and the BA Honours in a subject, of which present employment is not reflecting ain’t worth shit, it’s weight in debt essentially worth nada!’
Kirby: Money, or respect?
Fluent Dude: It doesn’t really matter, current times dictate that at the very least one has to have one or the other, with any one of them able to muster a modicum of the other, with the two seemingly in such short supply amongst the masses, it’s come to kissing a good luck charm and hope one of the two sees you through. However, if one must ask, it’s fashionable to say respect; it works for those who feel it would excel their chances at getting laid, or believe money is the root to evil, and not actually the arseholes who actually print it.
In the end they got the ‘fluent dude’ gist, inappropriate is a vaginal word as far as ‘fluent dude’, is in principle concerned, and if how one sincerely feels, is precisely the manifestation of honest speech, fluent dude will always revel in telling ‘it’, how it ‘is’, societies will forever tow the censored line, because it fits into an ideological pattern of control, and revolutionaries will always campaign to speak the very essence of truth; the world’s greatest gift. Thus ‘fluent dude’; well, for those that want to hear he’ll just keep on telling.