Hello friends! My, aren't we all the happy-go-lucky bloggers?
Just when you thought you could turn to this blog to run away from the many assignments and other horrors that our UniMelb kind are entitled to, I come along and shatter your pathetic, menial existence by shedding new light on our much over-rated mascot: The Agent Smith.
Really, can anyone name any useful thing he's done since trying (and failing) to conquer the matrix?
Zip?
Nada?
Of course you can't. The glory years of the smith are over.
Now he fills up his days chasing after little pink ice cream trucks because they sell flavahs other than his favorite Neo-liscious-choc-choc-cookie-surprise.
Can anyone say, "Has-been"?
And what of Sayedism's attempt to upgrade its shoddy Agent army to the "New and Improved" 2.0 versions?
Those Sayedism scientists wouldn't know the difference between improved and degraded even if Zumdahl himself came upto them and smacked 'em good with his hardcover textbook.
Look even now as they revert back to their original form:
Sayedism's future in the global engineering market?
Dim, no light in there at all.
So dark in fact, that it sucks the light out of anything it touches.
Black Hole.
Waste of Space.
Fail!
And what of our tourism?
Would you honestly want to go to a country where Agents like this:
Freak you out just by their smile?
I say no.
Especially since their hobbies are touching you and sucking you into the ways of their Agent Smithiness.
Keep your mits off me, you creepy bastard.
And yet we continue to pump large sums of our savings into making this ineffective defense force. Their latest offensive (As ordered by the Great Sayedian Motherland), was an all-out offensive on GIORGIO ARMANI.
They swept into the storefronts of Melbourne, Paris and even the US. Disguised as tux mannequins, they lay ready, waiting to heed the call to arms!
Unfortunately, the attack = fail (much like everything else of Sayedian calibre).
Our intrepid agents found themselves stuck inside the glass boxes.
On the bright side, they look absolutely dashing.
Plus, I can look on, smile and take a photo without the nagging fear of one of them reaching out and tearing my eyeballs from their sockets.
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