Monday, October 27, 2003
Yes, but it's not cocaine, Rachel, it's only snow!
I remember one time when Haystack Man Todd tried messing with the Electric Disco Fencepost. (HMT, for those of you who don't know him, is made out of straw and talks like a robot, because he is a robot. Nevertheless, he thought he could mess. ... :-O Holy crap! That rhyme just owned the entire known world! Let me get out my calculator and... hm... yes... let's see... hm.. and... to the fourth power... yes... yes! That's an ownage rate of 2.8x10^5 square miles per second! Such rapid ownership defies the very laws of physics and real estate! An incredible breakthrough! But back to the story for now.)
Ah yes, it was a cloudy and antisocial day. Spring was in the air, summer was on the radio, and winter was up your nose. The lakes were burning, and nobody knew how to peel a banana. That's when Haystack Man Todd charged the Electric Disco Fencepost with revenge in his eyes, cheese sauce in his hand, and cholesterol in his heart. Thoughts raced through somebody's mind. Somewhere in the distance, kitchen utensils were falling in love. The Roman Empire staged a fall for Funniest Home Videos. And the Electric Disco Fencepost shook with all of its might. Haystack Man Todd felt the cows nibbling his hands and feet. His robot brain couldn't understand the sensation of pain. His robot brain couldn't understand human emotions, or hip-hop music. His robot brain couldn't sharpen a pencil. Dust from the volcanic pool party settled far and wide across the land. Ham sandwiches rose up from the earth to conquer the savage toaster ovens. All of a sudden, the Untamed Geometric Theorems of Euclidia began stampeding toward Haystack Man Todd, but the merciful Electric Disco Fencepost spared his life, turning him into a Go-Kart for the Homeless and selling him half a burrito wholesale. At last, our friend the Electric Disco Fencepost took up his pickling salts, devalued the nickel, and collided off into the sunset.
The moral of the story is a croissant.
I remember one time when Haystack Man Todd tried messing with the Electric Disco Fencepost. (HMT, for those of you who don't know him, is made out of straw and talks like a robot, because he is a robot. Nevertheless, he thought he could mess. ... :-O Holy crap! That rhyme just owned the entire known world! Let me get out my calculator and... hm... yes... let's see... hm.. and... to the fourth power... yes... yes! That's an ownage rate of 2.8x10^5 square miles per second! Such rapid ownership defies the very laws of physics and real estate! An incredible breakthrough! But back to the story for now.)
Ah yes, it was a cloudy and antisocial day. Spring was in the air, summer was on the radio, and winter was up your nose. The lakes were burning, and nobody knew how to peel a banana. That's when Haystack Man Todd charged the Electric Disco Fencepost with revenge in his eyes, cheese sauce in his hand, and cholesterol in his heart. Thoughts raced through somebody's mind. Somewhere in the distance, kitchen utensils were falling in love. The Roman Empire staged a fall for Funniest Home Videos. And the Electric Disco Fencepost shook with all of its might. Haystack Man Todd felt the cows nibbling his hands and feet. His robot brain couldn't understand the sensation of pain. His robot brain couldn't understand human emotions, or hip-hop music. His robot brain couldn't sharpen a pencil. Dust from the volcanic pool party settled far and wide across the land. Ham sandwiches rose up from the earth to conquer the savage toaster ovens. All of a sudden, the Untamed Geometric Theorems of Euclidia began stampeding toward Haystack Man Todd, but the merciful Electric Disco Fencepost spared his life, turning him into a Go-Kart for the Homeless and selling him half a burrito wholesale. At last, our friend the Electric Disco Fencepost took up his pickling salts, devalued the nickel, and collided off into the sunset.
The moral of the story is a croissant.
