Friday, April 30, 2004
Give a man a duck, and you'll feed him for a day. Teach a man to duck, and you'll save him from low-flying aircraft for a lifetime.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
nothing from nothing leaves nothing
here's one of those cool magic tricks with numbers where the magician guy makes you pick a number and then makes you multiply it by stuff and add stuff and divide by stuff and subtract stuff and then tells you which number you end up with and you're like, "whoa, how'd he know that?" this one is so mystifying as to how it works, i know you'll never figure it out.
ok, first, pick a number between one and ten.
then multiply it by nine.
then divide that by the number you picked in step one.
and you end up with... no, don't tell me, i already know (it's MAGIC)... nine!
ok, i know everyone's going to be bombarding me with phone calls asking me to do a big magic show at some amphitheater somewhere, but keep in mind, i'm pretty busy with school and stuff, so right now is really not the right time for a three-year, international Tour of the Universe starring the Great Bensaki. just be patient, will you?
here's one of those cool magic tricks with numbers where the magician guy makes you pick a number and then makes you multiply it by stuff and add stuff and divide by stuff and subtract stuff and then tells you which number you end up with and you're like, "whoa, how'd he know that?" this one is so mystifying as to how it works, i know you'll never figure it out.
ok, first, pick a number between one and ten.
then multiply it by nine.
then divide that by the number you picked in step one.
and you end up with... no, don't tell me, i already know (it's MAGIC)... nine!
ok, i know everyone's going to be bombarding me with phone calls asking me to do a big magic show at some amphitheater somewhere, but keep in mind, i'm pretty busy with school and stuff, so right now is really not the right time for a three-year, international Tour of the Universe starring the Great Bensaki. just be patient, will you?
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
oh man, everybody. new bensaki email newsletter coming soon, i think. if you want it, just email me or leave a comment with your email address. hot.
free cup!
ben: no way, man. i can't tell them that story. they'd never believe it.
reggie: sure they would. it's perfect for this.. whatchacallit.. blorg. it was hilarious!
ben: it wasn't that hilarious. nobody would even laugh at it except for you. nobody did laugh when it happened except for you.
reggie: oh, come on! at least let me tell it if you're not going to. what else were you going to write about, anyway?
ben: you know... yams and yaks... my cat... oh, all right, i've got nothing. go ahead and tell it, if you must. but i'm leaving the room.
reggie: sweet. so this is what happened. the saki and i were on our way to the grocery store, when all of a sudden, we got there. but once we got there, the most ridiculous display of fundraising mayhem you ever saw was blocking the entrance. it was like the Knights of Columbus had declared war on the Salvation army and this was ground zero. we had to give up all our grocery money and promise them our next five paychecks just to get inside the store. luckily, it was free sample day, so we didn't really need any money. we were helping ourselves to some chocolate french fries, pickled bubble gum and deep-fried pizza tacos when we heard a distress call of distinct from the muffin mix aisle. bensaki got this really concerned look on his face, like he was about to puke or the apocalypse was coming or something. he took off running, and i jumped in a shopping cart filled with open containers of pudding and followed him as quickly and messily as i could. but by the time i got there it was too late.
ben: i think i'd better take over now. by the time reggie got there, it was too late. twelve grocery store employees, eight drug-sniffing dogs, three elderly customers, five youngerly customers, eight butt-sniffing dogs, a handful of magical ponies and the Electric Disco Fencepost had all fallen into lemon-poppyseed-muffin-induced trances. it was about the scariest thing i've ever seen. I think i even saw Timmy standing still.
reggie: isn't that the third time you've used that joke?
ben: yeah. anyway, reggie thought it would be funny to get all sorts of food from all over the store and dump it all over everybody since they were all frozen and wouldn't know what was going on. i told him it was a tired prank, but he said even so, he'd never done it before, and when i thought about it, i realized i hadn't either. so we went to town.
reggie: it was so cool... we divided everybody by food groups and enacted the wedding of the burger king and the dairy queen. i spent a good half hour weaving a veil from unravelled pieces of string cheese while bensaki was fashioning a tuxedo of raw ground chuck for the poor sap who was playing the groom. the members of the wedding party, including the dogs (who were pulling the dogsled to carry the couple off to their honeymoon in the exotic frozen foods aisle) were each dressed up in a different condiment, puréed vegetable, or ice cream topping. after the work was done, we sat back with a couple licorice whips to survey our masterpiece. and then - this is the part you won't believe -
ben: everybody started moving again. they had been faking it the whole time! it seems that, even though they were all covered with gross, sticky food, some of which hasn't completely washed out to this day, the joke was really on me and reggie. you see, reggie? i told you nobody would believe it.
reggie: yeah, it was kind of a dumb story, now that i think of it. but it's on your blog now! ha! i win i win i win! i made you look dumb.
ben: well, i'd try and do the same to you, but it looks like heredity beat me to it. oh snap!
reggie: ooh, ah hate that rabbit!
ben: no way, man. i can't tell them that story. they'd never believe it.
reggie: sure they would. it's perfect for this.. whatchacallit.. blorg. it was hilarious!
ben: it wasn't that hilarious. nobody would even laugh at it except for you. nobody did laugh when it happened except for you.
reggie: oh, come on! at least let me tell it if you're not going to. what else were you going to write about, anyway?
ben: you know... yams and yaks... my cat... oh, all right, i've got nothing. go ahead and tell it, if you must. but i'm leaving the room.
reggie: sweet. so this is what happened. the saki and i were on our way to the grocery store, when all of a sudden, we got there. but once we got there, the most ridiculous display of fundraising mayhem you ever saw was blocking the entrance. it was like the Knights of Columbus had declared war on the Salvation army and this was ground zero. we had to give up all our grocery money and promise them our next five paychecks just to get inside the store. luckily, it was free sample day, so we didn't really need any money. we were helping ourselves to some chocolate french fries, pickled bubble gum and deep-fried pizza tacos when we heard a distress call of distinct from the muffin mix aisle. bensaki got this really concerned look on his face, like he was about to puke or the apocalypse was coming or something. he took off running, and i jumped in a shopping cart filled with open containers of pudding and followed him as quickly and messily as i could. but by the time i got there it was too late.
ben: i think i'd better take over now. by the time reggie got there, it was too late. twelve grocery store employees, eight drug-sniffing dogs, three elderly customers, five youngerly customers, eight butt-sniffing dogs, a handful of magical ponies and the Electric Disco Fencepost had all fallen into lemon-poppyseed-muffin-induced trances. it was about the scariest thing i've ever seen. I think i even saw Timmy standing still.
reggie: isn't that the third time you've used that joke?
ben: yeah. anyway, reggie thought it would be funny to get all sorts of food from all over the store and dump it all over everybody since they were all frozen and wouldn't know what was going on. i told him it was a tired prank, but he said even so, he'd never done it before, and when i thought about it, i realized i hadn't either. so we went to town.
reggie: it was so cool... we divided everybody by food groups and enacted the wedding of the burger king and the dairy queen. i spent a good half hour weaving a veil from unravelled pieces of string cheese while bensaki was fashioning a tuxedo of raw ground chuck for the poor sap who was playing the groom. the members of the wedding party, including the dogs (who were pulling the dogsled to carry the couple off to their honeymoon in the exotic frozen foods aisle) were each dressed up in a different condiment, puréed vegetable, or ice cream topping. after the work was done, we sat back with a couple licorice whips to survey our masterpiece. and then - this is the part you won't believe -
ben: everybody started moving again. they had been faking it the whole time! it seems that, even though they were all covered with gross, sticky food, some of which hasn't completely washed out to this day, the joke was really on me and reggie. you see, reggie? i told you nobody would believe it.
reggie: yeah, it was kind of a dumb story, now that i think of it. but it's on your blog now! ha! i win i win i win! i made you look dumb.
ben: well, i'd try and do the same to you, but it looks like heredity beat me to it. oh snap!
reggie: ooh, ah hate that rabbit!
Sunday, April 25, 2004
getting a clue
CAMinirex: so anything funny happen today?
saki59: oh, i only wish. sundays are just study days here, practically
CAMinirex: study?
CAMinirex: whats that?
saki59: it's the room colonel mustard was killed in, with the revolver
saki59: remember?
CAMinirex: so anything funny happen today?
saki59: oh, i only wish. sundays are just study days here, practically
CAMinirex: study?
CAMinirex: whats that?
saki59: it's the room colonel mustard was killed in, with the revolver
saki59: remember?
Thursday, April 22, 2004
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
No Replacement: What does it mean?
I'm posting twice today, because you deserve better than what i've been giving you lately. Cool. So i wanted to share one of my favorite tricks that you can use for, like, whenever you want to make something funny when it's not all that funny yet, provided that something has the words "rock and roll" in it. (Some people say they're just one word, like rock-and-roll or rock'n'roll or röchenröll or something, but it doesn't really matter how you spell it for the trick.) Anyway, here is what you do: you take a popular song or phrase that has the aforementioned word(s) in it, and you replace them with "whack-a-mole." For example, the first one i came up with was "We built this city on Whack-a-mole." It works with anything, like "whack-a-mole is here to stay" or "I wanna get lost in your whack-a-mole." My favorite one, though, is "Sex, drugs, and Whack-a-mole." Yeah, okay, so maybe you don't find these all that funny. But i thought they were. I still crack up when i think of a new one. So use this trick, and you can impress people like... like me. I'll laugh.
I'm posting twice today, because you deserve better than what i've been giving you lately. Cool. So i wanted to share one of my favorite tricks that you can use for, like, whenever you want to make something funny when it's not all that funny yet, provided that something has the words "rock and roll" in it. (Some people say they're just one word, like rock-and-roll or rock'n'roll or röchenröll or something, but it doesn't really matter how you spell it for the trick.) Anyway, here is what you do: you take a popular song or phrase that has the aforementioned word(s) in it, and you replace them with "whack-a-mole." For example, the first one i came up with was "We built this city on Whack-a-mole." It works with anything, like "whack-a-mole is here to stay" or "I wanna get lost in your whack-a-mole." My favorite one, though, is "Sex, drugs, and Whack-a-mole." Yeah, okay, so maybe you don't find these all that funny. But i thought they were. I still crack up when i think of a new one. So use this trick, and you can impress people like... like me. I'll laugh.
A square is never sideways
I think the expression "I don't trust him any farther than I can throw him" has worn out its welcome. We need a new one, and i propose this gem right here: "I don't trust him any deeper than I can sink his feet into the ground with a single stroke of a croquet mallet upon the head, or perhaps a double stroke depending on the hardness of the soil." Yes. That's a good one.
I think the expression "I don't trust him any farther than I can throw him" has worn out its welcome. We need a new one, and i propose this gem right here: "I don't trust him any deeper than I can sink his feet into the ground with a single stroke of a croquet mallet upon the head, or perhaps a double stroke depending on the hardness of the soil." Yes. That's a good one.
Monday, April 19, 2004
Today is Iain's day.
So today i will fabricate the history of my own cousin Robin. Rather than devoting thousands of lines to various details (Examining the trenches in the soles of his gym shoes, Robin realized they would furnish an excellent venue for his experimental ant mazes, which would be the first step toward his goal of having a masterfully trained insect army to take over the world), i will focus my attention on the history of his seventeen websites and why he is compelled to make a new one every four-and-a-half minutes. This is all bogus.
The Robinator was born in obscure fishing village far below the earth's crust. He was raised by a pack of wild civil engineers and given his name in recognition of his unexplainable tendency to robinate everything from horned toads to entire subterranean people groups. He lived an uneventful and relatively profitable life as grocery store fashion model (don't think too hard about that one) until the day he decided to go and get some sun, though he didn't really know what that entailed. Using a series of hand- and foot-holds that he robinated himself out of the live rock, he made his way up to a small rural community in northeast Wisconsin. Once there, he wasted no time in immediately proceeding with the noble venture of squinting a bunch and sniffing about. There was some sort of nasty funk surrounding him, but since he was unaccustomed to the ways of the surface, he assumed that horrible smells were the norm. Three years later, his eyes adjusted to the light and he finally dug himself out of the second largest manure pile in the state.
Whereupon he was greeted by a huge mob of onlookers, waving pennants, flashing bulbs, sticking microphones in his face, and picking Lester Fungi's nose. Well, only one of them was picking Lester Fungi's nose, actually. But before long Lester made him stop. Anyway, Robin was unaware up to that point of the fame he had earned regionally for stoically inhabiting a manure pile for three years. He was a hero, and it was only a short time until his fans began demanding public appearances all over the place. Preferring the dim lighting, peace and quiet of his underground home, the Robinator opted to remain indoors and start a website in lieu of live crapfests in all manner of locale.
But there was a problem. Every time he started up a website and had it running smoothly for a couple of moments, he breathed a deep sigh of relief and, in doing so, caught a whiff of the permeating cow poo stench that had followed him around since his emergence into the outide world. He mistakenly attributed the smell to the quality of his work. "Man, this site stinks," he would say. "I have to start a new one."
Somewhere along the line, somebody either gave him a disinfectant bath or put a clothespin on his nose, because he hasn't changed sites in a while. But we'll see.
So much of the crap that goes on in life is a result of crap.
So today i will fabricate the history of my own cousin Robin. Rather than devoting thousands of lines to various details (Examining the trenches in the soles of his gym shoes, Robin realized they would furnish an excellent venue for his experimental ant mazes, which would be the first step toward his goal of having a masterfully trained insect army to take over the world), i will focus my attention on the history of his seventeen websites and why he is compelled to make a new one every four-and-a-half minutes. This is all bogus.
The Robinator was born in obscure fishing village far below the earth's crust. He was raised by a pack of wild civil engineers and given his name in recognition of his unexplainable tendency to robinate everything from horned toads to entire subterranean people groups. He lived an uneventful and relatively profitable life as grocery store fashion model (don't think too hard about that one) until the day he decided to go and get some sun, though he didn't really know what that entailed. Using a series of hand- and foot-holds that he robinated himself out of the live rock, he made his way up to a small rural community in northeast Wisconsin. Once there, he wasted no time in immediately proceeding with the noble venture of squinting a bunch and sniffing about. There was some sort of nasty funk surrounding him, but since he was unaccustomed to the ways of the surface, he assumed that horrible smells were the norm. Three years later, his eyes adjusted to the light and he finally dug himself out of the second largest manure pile in the state.
Whereupon he was greeted by a huge mob of onlookers, waving pennants, flashing bulbs, sticking microphones in his face, and picking Lester Fungi's nose. Well, only one of them was picking Lester Fungi's nose, actually. But before long Lester made him stop. Anyway, Robin was unaware up to that point of the fame he had earned regionally for stoically inhabiting a manure pile for three years. He was a hero, and it was only a short time until his fans began demanding public appearances all over the place. Preferring the dim lighting, peace and quiet of his underground home, the Robinator opted to remain indoors and start a website in lieu of live crapfests in all manner of locale.
But there was a problem. Every time he started up a website and had it running smoothly for a couple of moments, he breathed a deep sigh of relief and, in doing so, caught a whiff of the permeating cow poo stench that had followed him around since his emergence into the outide world. He mistakenly attributed the smell to the quality of his work. "Man, this site stinks," he would say. "I have to start a new one."
Somewhere along the line, somebody either gave him a disinfectant bath or put a clothespin on his nose, because he hasn't changed sites in a while. But we'll see.
So much of the crap that goes on in life is a result of crap.
Sunday, April 18, 2004
Oh, I'll freak you up, alright... WITH A FRYING PAN!
Since all of you were so nice as to leave me suggestions, i will use each suggestion over the next several posts, excluding matt's, not only for reasons of personal grudge, but because i have already posted so many times about dumplings. (but mostly for reasons of personal grudge.) So today's suggestion is: zebras.
A zebra and a rhinoceros were arguing about morality. (Ooh, i can see where this is going already.) One of them brought up the classic question of whether stealing to save a life is wrong.
"Of course it's wrong," said the rhinoceros. "Morality is not dictated by circumstances. What's wrong is wrong, despite the best intentions."
"There's a problem with your point of view," replied the zebra, "and that is that you see everything as black and white. From where I'm looking, there's a large, heavy, quadrupedal grey area."
"The thing that's wrong with you," said the rhinoceros with a snort, "is that you go prancing and leaping from one moral stand to another, grazing on whatever ideas seem greenest to you at the time, and when your code of ethics doesn't look so good anymore, you go find another. You need to draw the line somewhere. And it needs to be one line, not a zig-zagged pattern of stripes."
"That's easy for someone as thick-skinned as you," said the zebra. "But you can't just horn in on other people's points of view, or..."
Before he could finish, Pun-Tor the Avenger drove up in a safari jeep and devoured them both.
The moral of the story: When it comes to ravenous, pun-detesting monsters, debate can quickly become da bait. *CRUNCH*
Since all of you were so nice as to leave me suggestions, i will use each suggestion over the next several posts, excluding matt's, not only for reasons of personal grudge, but because i have already posted so many times about dumplings. (but mostly for reasons of personal grudge.) So today's suggestion is: zebras.
A zebra and a rhinoceros were arguing about morality. (Ooh, i can see where this is going already.) One of them brought up the classic question of whether stealing to save a life is wrong.
"Of course it's wrong," said the rhinoceros. "Morality is not dictated by circumstances. What's wrong is wrong, despite the best intentions."
"There's a problem with your point of view," replied the zebra, "and that is that you see everything as black and white. From where I'm looking, there's a large, heavy, quadrupedal grey area."
"The thing that's wrong with you," said the rhinoceros with a snort, "is that you go prancing and leaping from one moral stand to another, grazing on whatever ideas seem greenest to you at the time, and when your code of ethics doesn't look so good anymore, you go find another. You need to draw the line somewhere. And it needs to be one line, not a zig-zagged pattern of stripes."
"That's easy for someone as thick-skinned as you," said the zebra. "But you can't just horn in on other people's points of view, or..."
Before he could finish, Pun-Tor the Avenger drove up in a safari jeep and devoured them both.
The moral of the story: When it comes to ravenous, pun-detesting monsters, debate can quickly become da bait. *CRUNCH*
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Squirtgun Crusades
I haven't done a quiz in a while. Let's do one of those.
The title of today's quiz is "What's your deal already?" and we'll be competing for a gift certificate from International Half-a-Dumpling Emporium.
Good luck, and may the best man/maid of honor win.
Question 1: Did you do that on purpose?
A) Yes, and I'd do it again in a second.
B) No, it was an accident! I swear!
C) You can't prove nothing. You hear me?
D) Er, it's kind of embarassing, actually... See, I was trying to tell him "I'm having your baby grand piano tuned," but he only heard the first part of the sentence before he flipped out and started juggling table lamps, and now here we are, stuck in a hasty marriage to cover a fictional pregnancy. Ha ha!
Question 2: When, if ever, did you get the crackpot idea that those pants looked any good?
A) The same day I found all that unattended cocaine and marijuana, and I... Oh. A drug pun. I get it.
B) What? You saying these pants don't look any good? No way man, these pants look every good!
C) Well, they matched my kneecaps, so...
D) Just now, actually. They say "Good-looking Pants" on the butt in large fluorescent orange letters, so that gave me the idea. Oh... wait...
Question 3: Can you vouch for this guy over here?
A) Yeah, he's good for about six laughs, five hundred dollars, and his word, in that order.
B) No way. I've never seen Uncle Todd before in my life. I mean, that guy.
C) Sure, I trust any guy with a conspicuous video camera under his shirt.
D) No, but I'll vouch for this couch. It's got a cool pouch.
Question 4: Ouch.
A-C) Agreed.
D) Fine. You're no fun.
Question 5: Not that i'm implying anything, but have you ever considered the possibility that you accidentally have a tangled ball of barbed wire instead of a head?
A) I probably would have considered it, but it hurts when I think. Specifically, it jabs tetanus-inducingly.
B) Actually, I do. It's because my mind is the property of the Motherland.
C) Um... I'll barb your wire.
D) Hey now... I may be sharp, but not that sharp! Doh ho!
End of quiz time. Here are the results:
If you answered A to any of these questions, give yourself one point. Then poke yourself in the eye.
For B responses, pretend like you have friends and do a little dance while wearing a sausage link leotard and sprinkling parmesan cheese on a running video camera, and send me a copy, and maybe i'll think about letting you have some points. Maybe.
If you answered mostly C responses, your deal might be that you have some kind of fingernail disorder.
Finally, if you answered D to any of the questions, especially the last one, you don't even deserve half a dumpling. Go eat some... quarters of a dumpling or something. Jeez.
First one to the finish line wins the gift certificate.
I haven't done a quiz in a while. Let's do one of those.
The title of today's quiz is "What's your deal already?" and we'll be competing for a gift certificate from International Half-a-Dumpling Emporium.
Good luck, and may the best man/maid of honor win.
Question 1: Did you do that on purpose?
A) Yes, and I'd do it again in a second.
B) No, it was an accident! I swear!
C) You can't prove nothing. You hear me?
D) Er, it's kind of embarassing, actually... See, I was trying to tell him "I'm having your baby grand piano tuned," but he only heard the first part of the sentence before he flipped out and started juggling table lamps, and now here we are, stuck in a hasty marriage to cover a fictional pregnancy. Ha ha!
Question 2: When, if ever, did you get the crackpot idea that those pants looked any good?
A) The same day I found all that unattended cocaine and marijuana, and I... Oh. A drug pun. I get it.
B) What? You saying these pants don't look any good? No way man, these pants look every good!
C) Well, they matched my kneecaps, so...
D) Just now, actually. They say "Good-looking Pants" on the butt in large fluorescent orange letters, so that gave me the idea. Oh... wait...
Question 3: Can you vouch for this guy over here?
A) Yeah, he's good for about six laughs, five hundred dollars, and his word, in that order.
B) No way. I've never seen Uncle Todd before in my life. I mean, that guy.
C) Sure, I trust any guy with a conspicuous video camera under his shirt.
D) No, but I'll vouch for this couch. It's got a cool pouch.
Question 4: Ouch.
A-C) Agreed.
D) Fine. You're no fun.
Question 5: Not that i'm implying anything, but have you ever considered the possibility that you accidentally have a tangled ball of barbed wire instead of a head?
A) I probably would have considered it, but it hurts when I think. Specifically, it jabs tetanus-inducingly.
B) Actually, I do. It's because my mind is the property of the Motherland.
C) Um... I'll barb your wire.
D) Hey now... I may be sharp, but not that sharp! Doh ho!
End of quiz time. Here are the results:
If you answered A to any of these questions, give yourself one point. Then poke yourself in the eye.
For B responses, pretend like you have friends and do a little dance while wearing a sausage link leotard and sprinkling parmesan cheese on a running video camera, and send me a copy, and maybe i'll think about letting you have some points. Maybe.
If you answered mostly C responses, your deal might be that you have some kind of fingernail disorder.
Finally, if you answered D to any of the questions, especially the last one, you don't even deserve half a dumpling. Go eat some... quarters of a dumpling or something. Jeez.
First one to the finish line wins the gift certificate.
Saturday, April 10, 2004
Buncha clowns
Let me tell you one thing. If the world ever gets in a hopelessly unsolvable crisis, the likes of which have never been seen, we certainly won't be able to count on children's songs to do anything for us. Those things are alarmingly irresponsible. "London bridge is falling down, eh? Well, what could I possibly do to save all those endangered motorists? I know. I'll go tell my fair lady about it in a sing-song voice." Now that's what i call getting things done. Listen, folks: large-scale transportational disasters are not a spectator sport.
I could go on, but someone just took the key and locked me up, locked me up, locked me up.
Let me tell you one thing. If the world ever gets in a hopelessly unsolvable crisis, the likes of which have never been seen, we certainly won't be able to count on children's songs to do anything for us. Those things are alarmingly irresponsible. "London bridge is falling down, eh? Well, what could I possibly do to save all those endangered motorists? I know. I'll go tell my fair lady about it in a sing-song voice." Now that's what i call getting things done. Listen, folks: large-scale transportational disasters are not a spectator sport.
I could go on, but someone just took the key and locked me up, locked me up, locked me up.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
I'm England's greatest lyric
Right, so it's not my fault. It turns out a lot more depends on the weather than i used to think did. Like my state of mind, for example, or the quality/existence of these posts. If you'd like, i'll diagram the departure of ideas from my head as outside temperature rises. Actually, i'll do it anyway, without awaiting your approval, because if i don't write it down fast, it'll go the way of all my topics from the past few days.
Timeline of a nice day:
---------------------------
6:30 am: i'm sleeping snugly in bed, dreaming up incredible thoughts like "If there's biscuits and Triscuits, why not Quadriscuits?"
7ish am: the sun creeps through the window, pokes around in my ear and melts my thoughts slightly, until i'm wondering instead: "If there's bicycles and tricycles, why not... um... like, cars and stuff?"
8:00 am: i go to math class, my mind recovering slightly. i consider to myself, "Hmmm... math. If Uriah's wife had been named Mathsheba, David probably would have left her alone." This leads to thoughts about the Buddha's Noble Eightfold Math.
9:30 am: breakfast is over, and the food and warming air on the walk back start to distract me. "Food. Ha. Food rhymes with dude. If Uriah's wife had been a dude..." Yeah, okay, so that one was still funny. I'm doing alright.
10:45 am: time for my religion class. I try to avoid kings of Israel and their indiscretions for a while. Instead, I imagine how Jonah passed the time while he was in the fish's bellay. "He probably painted the Jonah Lisa." Yikes. Like Jonah, all i can think about is getting outside.
lunchtime-ish: i eat lunch, punctually. By this point, it's not looking so good. I'm saying things like "Is broccoli an adverb?" and "Cafeteria, ha... that's... there's... there's probably some suffix pun i could make about that word. Ha. That'd be hilarious." No fear, though. I've still got a philosophy class, and if that can't stimulate thought, i don't know what can.
12:55 pm: I test my theory, staying wisely away from firelit caves made of Play-doh. But it doesn't work. All i can think is that i'm glad my name isn't Phil, or Sophie for that matter. I start to lose hope.
2:30 pm: I sit down to write a hilarious post, but instead crank out some garbage one-liner or procrastinate until 11:30 or so. I ditch, and run around outside for the next seven hours.
9:30 pm: "Is coffee an adjective?"
10:30 pm: i take a shower to cleanse myself of the physical and mental grime that's accumulated over the course of the day. "If Uriah's wife had been named Showersheba..." I cut my head off. Twice.
---------------------------
So that's what's been happening the past couple however long i've sucked. Hopefully this is some legitimate excuse. I'll try harder, i swear. Heaven help us when actual summer gets here.
Right, so it's not my fault. It turns out a lot more depends on the weather than i used to think did. Like my state of mind, for example, or the quality/existence of these posts. If you'd like, i'll diagram the departure of ideas from my head as outside temperature rises. Actually, i'll do it anyway, without awaiting your approval, because if i don't write it down fast, it'll go the way of all my topics from the past few days.
Timeline of a nice day:
---------------------------
6:30 am: i'm sleeping snugly in bed, dreaming up incredible thoughts like "If there's biscuits and Triscuits, why not Quadriscuits?"
7ish am: the sun creeps through the window, pokes around in my ear and melts my thoughts slightly, until i'm wondering instead: "If there's bicycles and tricycles, why not... um... like, cars and stuff?"
8:00 am: i go to math class, my mind recovering slightly. i consider to myself, "Hmmm... math. If Uriah's wife had been named Mathsheba, David probably would have left her alone." This leads to thoughts about the Buddha's Noble Eightfold Math.
9:30 am: breakfast is over, and the food and warming air on the walk back start to distract me. "Food. Ha. Food rhymes with dude. If Uriah's wife had been a dude..." Yeah, okay, so that one was still funny. I'm doing alright.
10:45 am: time for my religion class. I try to avoid kings of Israel and their indiscretions for a while. Instead, I imagine how Jonah passed the time while he was in the fish's bellay. "He probably painted the Jonah Lisa." Yikes. Like Jonah, all i can think about is getting outside.
lunchtime-ish: i eat lunch, punctually. By this point, it's not looking so good. I'm saying things like "Is broccoli an adverb?" and "Cafeteria, ha... that's... there's... there's probably some suffix pun i could make about that word. Ha. That'd be hilarious." No fear, though. I've still got a philosophy class, and if that can't stimulate thought, i don't know what can.
12:55 pm: I test my theory, staying wisely away from firelit caves made of Play-doh. But it doesn't work. All i can think is that i'm glad my name isn't Phil, or Sophie for that matter. I start to lose hope.
2:30 pm: I sit down to write a hilarious post, but instead crank out some garbage one-liner or procrastinate until 11:30 or so. I ditch, and run around outside for the next seven hours.
9:30 pm: "Is coffee an adjective?"
10:30 pm: i take a shower to cleanse myself of the physical and mental grime that's accumulated over the course of the day. "If Uriah's wife had been named Showersheba..." I cut my head off. Twice.
---------------------------
So that's what's been happening the past couple however long i've sucked. Hopefully this is some legitimate excuse. I'll try harder, i swear. Heaven help us when actual summer gets here.
Monday, April 05, 2004
Dum dum dum, Dum dum dee dum.
the most normal thing happened to me today. i was sleeping, and i stopped sleeping, so i woke up. it was sane.
the most normal thing happened to me today. i was sleeping, and i stopped sleeping, so i woke up. it was sane.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
Civil Suit #814PQ6HJ11: The Duchy of Stuff vs. Benjamin von Saki
(part three of three)
So it turned out the Duke of Stuff wasn't being completely honest with me. A mere four hours after his promise not to punish me beyond a short writing assignment, a fully-armed minion showed up at my door. The minion was eating Funyuns and holding a postcard from the Grand Canyon, and he served me a summons without so much as a "how-d'you-do." So i had to appear in court to be sued by my own friend and feudal lord for the ridiculous amount of a whole bunch of stuff. (My lawyers and i tried to settle out of court for a reasonable half a bunch of stuff, but he was having none of that.)
So i showed up the morning of the suit in a suit that didn't quite suit the occasion. It was covered in soot. I had to borrow a tie at the last minute from the Earl of Poetasters, who, just my luck, was the only one hanging around the castle that morning. On the tie was emblazoned the stupid inscription "Rhyme is the lime of the time on the dime," and there was a big picture of this guy in a black-and-white-striped shirt and pale white facepaint who looked like he was riding an imaginary bike. Yeah, no kidding - what's that supposed to mean? Anyway, i took my place on the stand, and it all went down like this:
His Honor Some Judge: Case Number Something, Duchy of Stuff vs. This Guy. Whaddya have to say for yourself?
Duke of Stuff: Your honor, This Guy totally stole an entire bunch of My Stuff. I want it back, and how.
HHSJ: Well, that sounds reasonable. What do have to say in your defense, This?
This Guy (me): I plead guilty for reasons of insanity. One would have to be insane to believe i'm guilty.
DoS: A clever play, my loyal subject. But what's that in your pocket?
HHSJ: An apt question. I'd rather like to know myself. What is that in your pocket?
TG(m): Oh, you mean this Bunch? This Bunch of Stuff? Oh, this is just a present from a couple furry friends of mine.
HHSJ: Furry friends?
TG(m): If you must know, it's a present from my squirrel pants. I don't know where they got it.
HHSJ: Let us see the Bunch of Stuff.
*i show them the Bunch of Stuff*
HHSJ: Duke of Stuff, is this your Stuff?
DoS: It is! My beloved Stuff! You have no idea how much it means to me... I'm like a duke of that stuff!
HHSJ: Well, that settles it as far as I'm concerned. I pronounce those squirrel pants guilty. Take them into custody. This Guy, you're free to go.
TG(m): Wait a second. You can't take my pants to jail! This is a lawsuit, not a criminal trial, and a questionably conducted lawsuit at that. Furthermore, AAAAAHHHH!!!! I'M NAKED!!!!
HHSJ: Oh, well, I never! Indecent exposure! I sentence you to twelve years as a Hollywood actor.
TG(m):(despairing) NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
----
So it turns out i'm going to be in the movie business for a while. It's not all bad, i guess. You can see me this summer in the retro-western flick "The Duke Done Done Me Wrong, And I Done Ain't Done Nuthin'." I play a pair of pants.
(part three of three)
So it turned out the Duke of Stuff wasn't being completely honest with me. A mere four hours after his promise not to punish me beyond a short writing assignment, a fully-armed minion showed up at my door. The minion was eating Funyuns and holding a postcard from the Grand Canyon, and he served me a summons without so much as a "how-d'you-do." So i had to appear in court to be sued by my own friend and feudal lord for the ridiculous amount of a whole bunch of stuff. (My lawyers and i tried to settle out of court for a reasonable half a bunch of stuff, but he was having none of that.)
So i showed up the morning of the suit in a suit that didn't quite suit the occasion. It was covered in soot. I had to borrow a tie at the last minute from the Earl of Poetasters, who, just my luck, was the only one hanging around the castle that morning. On the tie was emblazoned the stupid inscription "Rhyme is the lime of the time on the dime," and there was a big picture of this guy in a black-and-white-striped shirt and pale white facepaint who looked like he was riding an imaginary bike. Yeah, no kidding - what's that supposed to mean? Anyway, i took my place on the stand, and it all went down like this:
His Honor Some Judge: Case Number Something, Duchy of Stuff vs. This Guy. Whaddya have to say for yourself?
Duke of Stuff: Your honor, This Guy totally stole an entire bunch of My Stuff. I want it back, and how.
HHSJ: Well, that sounds reasonable. What do have to say in your defense, This?
This Guy (me): I plead guilty for reasons of insanity. One would have to be insane to believe i'm guilty.
DoS: A clever play, my loyal subject. But what's that in your pocket?
HHSJ: An apt question. I'd rather like to know myself. What is that in your pocket?
TG(m): Oh, you mean this Bunch? This Bunch of Stuff? Oh, this is just a present from a couple furry friends of mine.
HHSJ: Furry friends?
TG(m): If you must know, it's a present from my squirrel pants. I don't know where they got it.
HHSJ: Let us see the Bunch of Stuff.
*i show them the Bunch of Stuff*
HHSJ: Duke of Stuff, is this your Stuff?
DoS: It is! My beloved Stuff! You have no idea how much it means to me... I'm like a duke of that stuff!
HHSJ: Well, that settles it as far as I'm concerned. I pronounce those squirrel pants guilty. Take them into custody. This Guy, you're free to go.
TG(m): Wait a second. You can't take my pants to jail! This is a lawsuit, not a criminal trial, and a questionably conducted lawsuit at that. Furthermore, AAAAAHHHH!!!! I'M NAKED!!!!
HHSJ: Oh, well, I never! Indecent exposure! I sentence you to twelve years as a Hollywood actor.
TG(m):(despairing) NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
----
So it turns out i'm going to be in the movie business for a while. It's not all bad, i guess. You can see me this summer in the retro-western flick "The Duke Done Done Me Wrong, And I Done Ain't Done Nuthin'." I play a pair of pants.
