By any measure ten years is a long time. In the technology world ten years is multiple product lifecycles. Technological empires have risen and fallen, Bebo came and went. So did Myspace(ish). Digg dugg. Mobile phones went from simple button based bricks with endless batteries to tiny supercomputers that last a couple of hours. There's no point in rehashing the list; We've lived it. Humankind has progressed faster in the last decade, for better and worse, then in the prior hundred years.[1]
It's in this context that Lennon & McCartney, a fellowship of authors and auteurs has existed. Sometimes standing against, sometimes flowing with the tide of time.
For a decade we have ceaselessly brought forth a collection of insights and sideways takes on the world that have brought pleasure, and sometimes pain, to millions.
It has been my personal honour to contribute to this library of thought. I can't speak for the others. I imagine they'd say the same.
Here's to another ten years.
Showing posts with label Daly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daly. Show all posts
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Seven Stars
I wish i'd taken a picture of the "food" I received from Cristo's Seven Star Pizza yesterday. When I saw it I actually said "Jesus Christ-o". Their subs were not sub standard. They were substandard. The fries were supposed to be curly. Instead they were more of a greasy mash. With a name like Seven Star you know they're taking the piss but Andre Michelin would vomit at the sight of this food and, to be honest, it's like he did and they delivered it to me.
The sub I ordered was supposed to have onions, but on inspection it was clear that no plant life of any kind, chopped, sliced, diced or fried had ever been in the remote vicinity of this sandwich. Instead it was like a couple of lonely piece of my selected sub filling had taken refuge in a cheap sub roll and decided to die there. It was the worst sub I had ever seen.
My friend also ordered a sub. His was supposed to be with cheese but as he unwrapped it I heard him say "Cheesus Christ". I'm not a petty man, but I was particularly delighted with his sub as it meant I wasn't just about to eat the worst one I'd ever seen.
I've had their pizza. I wouldn't advise it, but if you've got some plastic gloves, a roll of kitchen towel, and a hot shower ready to go you might be able to get through it and get the grease off your hands and face.
As I sat on the toilet later that night, crying myself to sleep I paused to consider what life event would cause a man, woman or child to start a business that produces food like this.
Then I dropped a number two and got my answer.
The sub I ordered was supposed to have onions, but on inspection it was clear that no plant life of any kind, chopped, sliced, diced or fried had ever been in the remote vicinity of this sandwich. Instead it was like a couple of lonely piece of my selected sub filling had taken refuge in a cheap sub roll and decided to die there. It was the worst sub I had ever seen.
My friend also ordered a sub. His was supposed to be with cheese but as he unwrapped it I heard him say "Cheesus Christ". I'm not a petty man, but I was particularly delighted with his sub as it meant I wasn't just about to eat the worst one I'd ever seen.
I've had their pizza. I wouldn't advise it, but if you've got some plastic gloves, a roll of kitchen towel, and a hot shower ready to go you might be able to get through it and get the grease off your hands and face.
As I sat on the toilet later that night, crying myself to sleep I paused to consider what life event would cause a man, woman or child to start a business that produces food like this.
Then I dropped a number two and got my answer.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
THE RESULTS ARE IN!
Recently two polls were posted on Lennon & McCartney. They asked our readers two topical questions. Following are the questions and responses as selected by you, the reader.
Q. Should legislation be required?
A. One of the above.
Analysis: Our readers were not sitting on the fence here. Their selections indicated a strong leaning toward one answer with 100% of the vote for a single option. Unfortunately we have no concrete proof of which idea was chosen as they selected "One of the above." Further analysis on this topic will prove fruitless.
Q. Should children be necessary?
A. Cloning and Chinese Labour Shortages.
Analysis: Popular opinion was split down the middle on this poll with 50% choosing 'Cloning' and the remainder choosing 'Chinese Labour Shortages.' This indicates that while many of our readers are of the opinion that children are unnecessary as long as we can clone ourselves others believe that children are necessary to fulfil the labour problem China is currently experiencing.
This analyst proposes a meeting of minds on this point and puts forward the possibility of using our clones as slaves in China.
We put this to the Prime Minister of Ireland in our recent interview. Excerpt below:
L&M: Prime Minister, what do you think of the possibility of Irish people making money by cloning themselves and selling the clones into slave labour in China. Do you see this as a viable alternative to investment in an already bloated property market?
PM: Arrest this man.
Q. Should legislation be required?
A. One of the above.
Analysis: Our readers were not sitting on the fence here. Their selections indicated a strong leaning toward one answer with 100% of the vote for a single option. Unfortunately we have no concrete proof of which idea was chosen as they selected "One of the above." Further analysis on this topic will prove fruitless.
Q. Should children be necessary?
A. Cloning and Chinese Labour Shortages.
Analysis: Popular opinion was split down the middle on this poll with 50% choosing 'Cloning' and the remainder choosing 'Chinese Labour Shortages.' This indicates that while many of our readers are of the opinion that children are unnecessary as long as we can clone ourselves others believe that children are necessary to fulfil the labour problem China is currently experiencing.
This analyst proposes a meeting of minds on this point and puts forward the possibility of using our clones as slaves in China.
We put this to the Prime Minister of Ireland in our recent interview. Excerpt below:
L&M: Prime Minister, what do you think of the possibility of Irish people making money by cloning themselves and selling the clones into slave labour in China. Do you see this as a viable alternative to investment in an already bloated property market?
PM: Arrest this man.
Monday, October 29, 2007
New Blog Post
I'm posting on the blog! I'm writing words!! Things are being written! I'm making a vague comment about something that happened me or something I thought about. It's poorly worded and doesn't make much sense. This is something I'll realise later. I'm writing a post on the blog. It will appear at the top of the blog. I'm wondering what font I should use. I mess for a minute with other fonts before returning to what I think was the original. I'm not actually sure as I wasn't paying attention to the original. I'm wearing a hat and glasses. The hat comes down over my ears. The glasses are sitting on top of the hat. To an alien it may look like i've got no ears. But an alien that may think that probably wouldn't know what ears are.
I've stopped meandering off the point! I'm coming to the end of the post. I'm struggling to think of something short and snappy to end the post with. I'm struggling to think of a one word closing. I attempt to resort to two words. I can think of nothing for that or three. I move to four. Again, I fail miserably.
That was four!
That was three! Success!
One!
I've stopped meandering off the point! I'm coming to the end of the post. I'm struggling to think of something short and snappy to end the post with. I'm struggling to think of a one word closing. I attempt to resort to two words. I can think of nothing for that or three. I move to four. Again, I fail miserably.
That was four!
That was three! Success!
One!
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Neu Lowes
'Well that conversation was a fucking train wreck,' thought Daly, 'A lot like this fucking blog in fact... and who's fault is that? I don't know.'
Daly repeated the words 'I don't know,' over and over until he began to believe it. The truth was he was reluctant to point the finger of blame over the blog's failure at himself, partially because he couldn't be bothered and partially because he knew Rob would do it for him.
Secretly Daly enjoyed those moments when Rob would say "So have you done anything with the blog?" knowing that he hadn't. These moments would take one of two paths; Daly would say 'no' and Rob would respond with 'I know, you fuck,' or Daly would say 'yes.' When Daly said 'yes' Rob would casually wander out and check the blog before returning with 'No you didn't, you fuck.'
The truth (part 2) was that the blog had been dead for a long time now. The injection of Mike and Kelly had been like an adrenaline shot on a fully decomposed corpse. In fact if it weren't for the brave efforts of Ultra Toast to occasionally check on our progress then this blog would literally be a single person literally talking to themsleves like they were talking to other people. Thanks to the Toast however the blog remained like the adrenaline fuelled corpse, animatedly thrashing in its grave, twisting and spasming constantly, though its brain remained resolutely dead.
New lows.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Paradise Lost
On an insignificant part of an insignificant planet in an insignificant part of an insignificant galaxy something remarkable was happening. Unfortunately for the inhabitants of the insignificant planet nobody saw it, or if they did they weren't paying attention. In hindsight this was generally regarded as a shame because if they noticed it would have had a dramatic effect on populace's understanding of the universe. For a very brief period of time on an overcast Tuesday evening the pattern of the Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights spelled the words "Is there anybody out there?" This was swiftly followed by a series of co-ordinates before swirling into yet another pattern.
Life marched onwards in blissful ignorance. Paris Hilton went to jail and made millions on the movie adaptation of the best-selling autobiography. A small boy in Oregon set a small frog on fire using lighter fluid, a move that enraged the frog community and caused a breakdown in human-frog relations for nearly one hundred years and two people were involved in car accidents that could have been avoided entirely if they had slept in just that extra five minutes in the morning.
For the people Beria IV (as it was known only to astronomers on Planet Earth) the search continued. For seven hundred and sixty four years, two months, four days and nineteen hours (by Earth reckoning) they had broadcast a message and the co-ordinates of their planet out in every direction. Using series' of high-energy particle emitters they bombarded the atmospheres of every planet in range in the hope of finding alien life. Using communication patterns honed over hundreds of years they were able to broadcast signals that constantly changed and shifted pattern so that regardless of the symbols of language used by the inhabitants of the receiving planet they would at some stage understand what was written in the sky.
In missing this event the loss to both cultures was a price higher than most could dream. It would be another seven thousand years before the pattern would repeat and by that time humankind had turned planet earth into an uninhabitable waste. There was nobody left alive to return the signal.
Life marched onwards in blissful ignorance. Paris Hilton went to jail and made millions on the movie adaptation of the best-selling autobiography. A small boy in Oregon set a small frog on fire using lighter fluid, a move that enraged the frog community and caused a breakdown in human-frog relations for nearly one hundred years and two people were involved in car accidents that could have been avoided entirely if they had slept in just that extra five minutes in the morning.
For the people Beria IV (as it was known only to astronomers on Planet Earth) the search continued. For seven hundred and sixty four years, two months, four days and nineteen hours (by Earth reckoning) they had broadcast a message and the co-ordinates of their planet out in every direction. Using series' of high-energy particle emitters they bombarded the atmospheres of every planet in range in the hope of finding alien life. Using communication patterns honed over hundreds of years they were able to broadcast signals that constantly changed and shifted pattern so that regardless of the symbols of language used by the inhabitants of the receiving planet they would at some stage understand what was written in the sky.
In missing this event the loss to both cultures was a price higher than most could dream. It would be another seven thousand years before the pattern would repeat and by that time humankind had turned planet earth into an uninhabitable waste. There was nobody left alive to return the signal.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
TBond v0.3
Not too long ago I told a friend that if I should ever develop an On-Line Stock Brokerage System I'd call it the TBond System. Ever true to my word I've done just that. The person shall remain nameless lest future employers google him, discover this site, and then decide to boot his ass of Wall Street. Not that he'll ever get there in the first place. (From what i've heard he can't even get into Canary Wharf).
I've consulted with the individual in question and he has selected three stocks which he says are "sure things." He reckons you'd expect to see returns of between 15% and 40% depending on how the overall market performs.
I now offer you the chance to use the TBond system to make a hypothetical trade. For those of you that are hard of understanding 'hypothetical trade' means that no money will change hands, you won't actually buy anything and can't actually make any money. Thus this version of the program serves one purpose and one purpose only, to see how good a stock picker the guy really is.
If you successfully make some good hypothetical returns please let me know and i'll forward your comment on to him. Or just post them below and i'm sure he'll read them.
***********************************
How to use the TBond System
- First select a stock from the list. He only picked three so go with whichever one you like best.
- Next enter in the amount of money you'll invest in the company each month
- Then enter the amount of years you hope to spend investing
- Finally click on 'TBond it' to see how you got on using projected results after the the amount of years you entered above
***********************************
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Lytblokium
It started as a mark of disrespect, and cascaded into a global phenomenon. The simple act of wearing sunglasses all the time took the world by storm.
It started on the Doctor Phil show, when one of the participants decided that Doctor Phil's advice wasn't worth a shit. Instead of arguing or turning away, the person merely put on their sunglasses and responded to everything Doctor Phil said with obviously feigned interest.
Within a minute of that event, ratings on the Doctor Phil show jumped 35%. They rose steadily for the remainder of the show but in the end that seemed to be that...
...Until two days later when every major newspaper in America ran front page stories on how that seemingly innocuous event had caught on and how sun-glasses had changed, overnight, the way people deal with each other. Schools were thrown into chaos as children donned shades during classes they didn't like. Members of the senate showed their disapproval by putting their sunglasses on. Resolutions and laws were passed by counting the number of sunglasses in view in the senate house. Divorce rates plummeted as husbands and wives could now communicate a little bit more effectively. This conversation was heard countless times around the country:
"Is there something wrong, hon?"
"No."
"Oh, come on. You've been acting down all day. Tell me what's wrong."
"I said there's nothing wrong."
"But you're wearing your sunglasses..."
"Oh, I guess I am... well, actually, there is something wrong. I know you slept with my sister."
*Sun-glasses on*
The demand for sunglass materials jumped massively and the mineral compound lytblokium became the most valuable mineral on earth as manufacturers crawled over each others rotting corpses to get their hands on some. The entire country of Egypt became a single monolithic sunglass manufacturing plant.
Referees wore sunglasses whenever players started bawling at them. Mother wore sunglasses whenever their children starting bawling at them. Businessmen wore sunglasses whenever their investors started bawling at them. Nobody listened to anyone, and if anyone started to bemoan this fact they quickly discovered that everyone around them was, all of a sudden, wearing sunglasses.
Road traffic accidents shot up by 740% as drivers wore their sunglasses at night. Insurance companies donned their glasses whenever the drivers called them up. Doctors wore sunglasses the whole time.
And then all of a sudden, a strange thing happened. People stopped getting sick. Apart from the occasional illness here and there, disease started to fade from the minds of the people. And that wasn't all. People started to live longer, and were happier. The ability to avoid stress in all its forms by putting on a pair of sunglasses transformed the direction of society, as we know it. War, too, faded into distant memory, as people stopped giving a fuck about what their neighbouring countries were doing and simply got on with enjoying the good bits of their lives and ignoring everything else.
It started on the Doctor Phil show, when one of the participants decided that Doctor Phil's advice wasn't worth a shit. Instead of arguing or turning away, the person merely put on their sunglasses and responded to everything Doctor Phil said with obviously feigned interest.
Within a minute of that event, ratings on the Doctor Phil show jumped 35%. They rose steadily for the remainder of the show but in the end that seemed to be that...
...Until two days later when every major newspaper in America ran front page stories on how that seemingly innocuous event had caught on and how sun-glasses had changed, overnight, the way people deal with each other. Schools were thrown into chaos as children donned shades during classes they didn't like. Members of the senate showed their disapproval by putting their sunglasses on. Resolutions and laws were passed by counting the number of sunglasses in view in the senate house. Divorce rates plummeted as husbands and wives could now communicate a little bit more effectively. This conversation was heard countless times around the country:
"Is there something wrong, hon?"
"No."
"Oh, come on. You've been acting down all day. Tell me what's wrong."
"I said there's nothing wrong."
"But you're wearing your sunglasses..."
"Oh, I guess I am... well, actually, there is something wrong. I know you slept with my sister."
*Sun-glasses on*
The demand for sunglass materials jumped massively and the mineral compound lytblokium became the most valuable mineral on earth as manufacturers crawled over each others rotting corpses to get their hands on some. The entire country of Egypt became a single monolithic sunglass manufacturing plant.
Referees wore sunglasses whenever players started bawling at them. Mother wore sunglasses whenever their children starting bawling at them. Businessmen wore sunglasses whenever their investors started bawling at them. Nobody listened to anyone, and if anyone started to bemoan this fact they quickly discovered that everyone around them was, all of a sudden, wearing sunglasses.
Road traffic accidents shot up by 740% as drivers wore their sunglasses at night. Insurance companies donned their glasses whenever the drivers called them up. Doctors wore sunglasses the whole time.
And then all of a sudden, a strange thing happened. People stopped getting sick. Apart from the occasional illness here and there, disease started to fade from the minds of the people. And that wasn't all. People started to live longer, and were happier. The ability to avoid stress in all its forms by putting on a pair of sunglasses transformed the direction of society, as we know it. War, too, faded into distant memory, as people stopped giving a fuck about what their neighbouring countries were doing and simply got on with enjoying the good bits of their lives and ignoring everything else.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Transitions
About two weeks ago I received a flurry of emails about the recent changes to the blog. This post is to address those comments publicly so all visitors will be aware of the situation.
In general I agree with your comments on the readability of the site and this is something the blog administrators and contributors have discussed internally. We've currently working on a blog improvement initiative that will see a number of improvements taking place.
At the moment we're working on some upgrades and will moving over to 'New Blogger' shortly. We'll then be taking advantage of some of the neater functionality the new system provides without cluttering up the blog space with miscellaneous crap. In an effort to bring in fresh new talent, we're also in talks with select contributors from other blogs in the hopes of bringing their talent to where they can best be showcased.
We're going to be changing the this place up over the coming days and weeks, the background will be just one of these things. We look forward to the forthcoming changes and hope you do too.
Rage out.
In general I agree with your comments on the readability of the site and this is something the blog administrators and contributors have discussed internally. We've currently working on a blog improvement initiative that will see a number of improvements taking place.
At the moment we're working on some upgrades and will moving over to 'New Blogger' shortly. We'll then be taking advantage of some of the neater functionality the new system provides without cluttering up the blog space with miscellaneous crap. In an effort to bring in fresh new talent, we're also in talks with select contributors from other blogs in the hopes of bringing their talent to where they can best be showcased.
We're going to be changing the this place up over the coming days and weeks, the background will be just one of these things. We look forward to the forthcoming changes and hope you do too.
Rage out.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Predator Man
"Oh Snu-Snu, I love you. I love you Snu-Snu. Oh I love you so much."
"Silence human. You are not one of us. What are you doing on this ship?"
"Oh you're so tall Snu-Snu. Yes you are. Yes you are. I'm here to protect you Snu-Snu. I'm here to protect you. I'm the only one who will. I'm the only one. I love you and I'm here to protect you."
"Silence human. There are Aliens in our midst. I can feel them coming. Prepare yourself."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I musn't be seen. I'm going to hide."
...
"Oh my god. The Alien is attacking Snu-Snu. Oh my God. He's attacking Snu-Snu with his claws. Oh my god. Oh my god. But I must protect my identity."
...
"Oh Snu-Snu. Did they hurt you? Oh my god. Oh Snu-Snu."
"Silence human. I have vanquished my foe."
"Oh Snu-Snu. Look. Where I was standing before the Alien came in. There's some of its acidic blood on the ground. It's a sign. They're coming for me. But I will be ready. For I am a Samurai Warrior and I will be strong."
"Silence human. The creature is dead."
"I will be ready Snu-Snu. I'll fight them and I'll save you. I love you Snu-Snu."
"Silence human. I hear the approach of another."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I have to hide to protect who I am. The Forest Rangers are after me. Fuck them. Fuck them Snu-Snu. Fuck them. They can fuck off. I love you Snu-Snu. I love you. I'm the only one who protects you. Oh Snu-Snu, I'm the only one. I love you. Fuck them. Fuck them all. How dare they challenge me? I love you and they don't care about you. And then they challenge me? Fuck them. Fuck them."
"Silence human. You are light-years from the forests of Earth. Your Forest Rangers are nowhere to be seen."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I got a little angry there. I love you."
"Silence human. The Alien has passed our position. I must track and hunt it in its own warren."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I must come with you. Into the maze. It's the most dangerous place on Earth and I'm the only one who can go in there. I've found a way. I'm safe. I've found a way."
"Silence human. You are light-years away from Earth. You will be utterly destroyed in the Alien hive. But if you still wish to join the hunt then you must first challenge me to single combat. It is a rite of passage."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I'll never hurt you. I'll never never never hurt you. Oh Snu-Snu. I love you and I'll never hurt you. I love you. I'll never hurt you. I'd rather die than hurt you. That's what I want. I don't want to die. I don't want you to hurt me. I'd rather die than hurt you. I love you Snu-Snu. I love you."
"Silence human. Please."
"Silence human. You are not one of us. What are you doing on this ship?"
"Oh you're so tall Snu-Snu. Yes you are. Yes you are. I'm here to protect you Snu-Snu. I'm here to protect you. I'm the only one who will. I'm the only one. I love you and I'm here to protect you."
"Silence human. There are Aliens in our midst. I can feel them coming. Prepare yourself."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I musn't be seen. I'm going to hide."
...
"Oh my god. The Alien is attacking Snu-Snu. Oh my God. He's attacking Snu-Snu with his claws. Oh my god. Oh my god. But I must protect my identity."
...
"Oh Snu-Snu. Did they hurt you? Oh my god. Oh Snu-Snu."
"Silence human. I have vanquished my foe."
"Oh Snu-Snu. Look. Where I was standing before the Alien came in. There's some of its acidic blood on the ground. It's a sign. They're coming for me. But I will be ready. For I am a Samurai Warrior and I will be strong."
"Silence human. The creature is dead."
"I will be ready Snu-Snu. I'll fight them and I'll save you. I love you Snu-Snu."
"Silence human. I hear the approach of another."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I have to hide to protect who I am. The Forest Rangers are after me. Fuck them. Fuck them Snu-Snu. Fuck them. They can fuck off. I love you Snu-Snu. I love you. I'm the only one who protects you. Oh Snu-Snu, I'm the only one. I love you. Fuck them. Fuck them all. How dare they challenge me? I love you and they don't care about you. And then they challenge me? Fuck them. Fuck them."
"Silence human. You are light-years from the forests of Earth. Your Forest Rangers are nowhere to be seen."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I got a little angry there. I love you."
"Silence human. The Alien has passed our position. I must track and hunt it in its own warren."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I must come with you. Into the maze. It's the most dangerous place on Earth and I'm the only one who can go in there. I've found a way. I'm safe. I've found a way."
"Silence human. You are light-years away from Earth. You will be utterly destroyed in the Alien hive. But if you still wish to join the hunt then you must first challenge me to single combat. It is a rite of passage."
"Oh Snu-Snu. I'll never hurt you. I'll never never never hurt you. Oh Snu-Snu. I love you and I'll never hurt you. I love you. I'll never hurt you. I'd rather die than hurt you. That's what I want. I don't want to die. I don't want you to hurt me. I'd rather die than hurt you. I love you Snu-Snu. I love you."
"Silence human. Please."
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Atypical Day
The Empire of Sixteen Heavenly Sins had fallen into disrepute. Or to be fair, it had fallen further into disrepute; the nation had been conceived on the tenets of infidelity, selfishness and chocolate - How much lower could it really go?
Quite a long way as it turned out. A lovable trickster had sold the half-planet's core to a greedy entrepreneur, and now the time had come for collection. A specially comissioned RageCorp Intergalactic Ultra-MegaFreighter, The Handbag of the Titans, was stationed in high orbit over the half-planet. It had been rented for the afternoon at a cost of sixty-trillion dollars per minute. But it was worth it. It was the only class of vehicle in the universe equipped to cart away the inside of a planet.
Inside the hall of the Imperial High Council sixteen angry men and two hundred and fifty beautiful women soaked in the warm baths. There was much screaming and throwing of champagne as the men debated what to do about the Empire's latest crisis.
"Let us once again examine the deed of entitlment," roared the High Chancellor of Ice Cream.
"Hear, Hear."
"Gentlemen, we have already examined the document. Mr. Frustum is now indeed the rightful owner of the core of our half of the planet. It's watertight," announced the Lord of Fast Cars.
"How can this be? How can such a document have come into existance?" screamed the UberMeister of Sexy Babes.
"Well, my dear UberMeister, obviously the document was written up and ratified by the Council."
Chaos ensued in the council house. The Lord of Fast Cars took a long drink of champagne as he waited for the commotion to die down.
"In fact, it was ratified. It has been signed by all sixteen members of the council, each and every one of you... *cough* and me. There's not a jot we can do about it."
The council fell silent, red faced, at these words. They had each received vast sums of money to support the signing of the document. Each one had signed, expecting the others in the council to object and strike the document out.
"We must be able to do something. Tear up the blasted thing," said The Dean of Chilly Beds on Warm Summer Nights.
"Impossible," said the Lord, "If we do that then we'll leave ourselves open to petitions to destroy every other document we've ratified. Nay, we have no choice but to allow this to go ahead."
"Hold on a second, my brothers," said the Prince of Lies. "I have a plan... but first some cake. Who's for Banoffi? Hands?"
Fourteen hands were raised.
"Chocolate Cake?"
Nine hands were raised. The Prince rolled his eyes.
"Both?"
Unanimous.
Quite a long way as it turned out. A lovable trickster had sold the half-planet's core to a greedy entrepreneur, and now the time had come for collection. A specially comissioned RageCorp Intergalactic Ultra-MegaFreighter, The Handbag of the Titans, was stationed in high orbit over the half-planet. It had been rented for the afternoon at a cost of sixty-trillion dollars per minute. But it was worth it. It was the only class of vehicle in the universe equipped to cart away the inside of a planet.
Inside the hall of the Imperial High Council sixteen angry men and two hundred and fifty beautiful women soaked in the warm baths. There was much screaming and throwing of champagne as the men debated what to do about the Empire's latest crisis.
"Let us once again examine the deed of entitlment," roared the High Chancellor of Ice Cream.
"Hear, Hear."
"Gentlemen, we have already examined the document. Mr. Frustum is now indeed the rightful owner of the core of our half of the planet. It's watertight," announced the Lord of Fast Cars.
"How can this be? How can such a document have come into existance?" screamed the UberMeister of Sexy Babes.
"Well, my dear UberMeister, obviously the document was written up and ratified by the Council."
Chaos ensued in the council house. The Lord of Fast Cars took a long drink of champagne as he waited for the commotion to die down.
"In fact, it was ratified. It has been signed by all sixteen members of the council, each and every one of you... *cough* and me. There's not a jot we can do about it."
The council fell silent, red faced, at these words. They had each received vast sums of money to support the signing of the document. Each one had signed, expecting the others in the council to object and strike the document out.
"We must be able to do something. Tear up the blasted thing," said The Dean of Chilly Beds on Warm Summer Nights.
"Impossible," said the Lord, "If we do that then we'll leave ourselves open to petitions to destroy every other document we've ratified. Nay, we have no choice but to allow this to go ahead."
"Hold on a second, my brothers," said the Prince of Lies. "I have a plan... but first some cake. Who's for Banoffi? Hands?"
Fourteen hands were raised.
"Chocolate Cake?"
Nine hands were raised. The Prince rolled his eyes.
"Both?"
Unanimous.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Neighborgs
"Honey, I'm home." (audience applause/laughter)
"It's about time. I've been waiting for hours." (more enthusiastic laughter)
"Oh shut your pie hole. The interstate was backed up." (outrageous audience laughter)
"Well I wish you hadn't, look you've reversed into the neighbours car." (dangerous amounts of laughter)
"Oh darn. I best go over there and apologise." (people choking to death with laughter)
*Ding Dong* (audience laughter)
"Hello Mr. Of-Twenty. Look, I had..."
"Please, call me Twelve."
"Oh, sure. Well Twelve-Of-Twenty, I had a little bit of a problem this evening. I seem to have tipped your car's fender with mine. I'm suing you. Do you have insurance?"
"No. Do you?"
"Yes, but since you'll be paying for my neck injury it's you who needs insuran... HEY. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"Resistance is futile."
"What THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?"
"You are being assimilated."
"WHAT? WHY?"
"The Borg need your insurance."
"FUCK. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I'VE SURE GOT MY COME-UPPANCE NOW."
~FIN~
"It's about time. I've been waiting for hours." (more enthusiastic laughter)
"Oh shut your pie hole. The interstate was backed up." (outrageous audience laughter)
"Well I wish you hadn't, look you've reversed into the neighbours car." (dangerous amounts of laughter)
"Oh darn. I best go over there and apologise." (people choking to death with laughter)
*Ding Dong* (audience laughter)
"Hello Mr. Of-Twenty. Look, I had..."
"Please, call me Twelve."
"Oh, sure. Well Twelve-Of-Twenty, I had a little bit of a problem this evening. I seem to have tipped your car's fender with mine. I'm suing you. Do you have insurance?"
"No. Do you?"
"Yes, but since you'll be paying for my neck injury it's you who needs insuran... HEY. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"Resistance is futile."
"What THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?"
"You are being assimilated."
"WHAT? WHY?"
"The Borg need your insurance."
"FUCK. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I'VE SURE GOT MY COME-UPPANCE NOW."
~FIN~
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Boners
"OK so, what do we have here?"
"White male, 35, and from the looks of things he was really enjoying himself when he died."
"Why is that?"
"He was just about to fire the spooge cannon."
"Aaah. Cause of death?"
"Well, after examining the member I'd say he was poisoned."
"Jesus. Did he have anything on him."
"Yeah. A joe."
"I meant any ID?"
"Yeah, it's here somewhere... Here, he's one John Wilcox. His address is on there too."
"I'll check it out and let you know. Cheers Boners."
"..."
"..."
"I asked you not to call me Boners."
"Well it's your name isn't it?"
"Well yeah... but could you at least go with Mr. Boners or something? Anything less... weird."
"You examine dead boners for a living."
"Just get out."
"White male, 35, and from the looks of things he was really enjoying himself when he died."
"Why is that?"
"He was just about to fire the spooge cannon."
"Aaah. Cause of death?"
"Well, after examining the member I'd say he was poisoned."
"Jesus. Did he have anything on him."
"Yeah. A joe."
"I meant any ID?"
"Yeah, it's here somewhere... Here, he's one John Wilcox. His address is on there too."
"I'll check it out and let you know. Cheers Boners."
"..."
"..."
"I asked you not to call me Boners."
"Well it's your name isn't it?"
"Well yeah... but could you at least go with Mr. Boners or something? Anything less... weird."
"You examine dead boners for a living."
"Just get out."
Monday, July 24, 2006
This Just In
Two high school teachers who decided to peacfully protest aginst Bush when their school was closed because of his visit have been arrested. Democracy lives.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Thursday
The heat was relentless. The Rage had been sweating uncomfortably all day and was not in the least happy about it. He kept repeating the line "Oh he looks a bit of a dandy" over and over, but that wasn't making the place any cooler.
Sitting outside with the dog, who was also suffering from the heat he saw a small plane pass very low overhead. He hoped it wasn't one of the ones that take an ariel photo of your house and offer to sell it to you, as he was quite naked at the time.
Sitting outside with the dog, who was also suffering from the heat he saw a small plane pass very low overhead. He hoped it wasn't one of the ones that take an ariel photo of your house and offer to sell it to you, as he was quite naked at the time.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
The Ferns Are Nearly Gone
The spirit of the blog thrashed around in it's own excrement. It flailed wildly, splattering faeces upon everything in the vicinity.
Shadows hovered over the blog, red eyed, unblinking. Occasionally they cast their eyes down upon it to monitor it's changes. Occassionally they reached out and touched the parts that had changed. Either way they tended to get shit in their eyes.
A small gremlin cackled at this oft-repeating turn of events. It was perched on a towering rock some miles away. It observed the environment of the blog through a small looking-glass. The glass had thousands of tiny cracks in it that filtered and distorted the light in billions upon billions of different ways. Sometimes the gremlin angled the lens so that what it was displayed was the truth. Most of the time, however, it moved the lens to display what it felt like seeing. Very occasionally it spent time observing the lens itself.
After an indeterminable length of time it sighed. It was trapped on the perch, surrounded on all sides by what it thought was lava. It couldn't be sure it was lava because it could only see the ground through the lens and the lens might be a liar. Sometimes it tried to angle the lens at the ground in such a way that it didn't show lava. But that had never happened... yet. There was no point in climbing down just to have to climb back up. The gremlin wasn't even sure it would be able to climb back up.
A new crack appeared in the lens. The gremlin didn't notice. As time had passed the lens had become increasingly cracked, but slowly, ever so slowly. Each new crack changed every other so that the lens was eternally distorting. But the gremlin couldn't possibly know this. What was once the truth through the lens was slowly turning into a lie. But the gremlin couldn't possibly know this. The lens couldn't be trusted. But the gremlin couldn't ever be sure of this.
One day the lava would look like grass and the gremlin would climb down.
Shadows hovered over the blog, red eyed, unblinking. Occasionally they cast their eyes down upon it to monitor it's changes. Occassionally they reached out and touched the parts that had changed. Either way they tended to get shit in their eyes.
A small gremlin cackled at this oft-repeating turn of events. It was perched on a towering rock some miles away. It observed the environment of the blog through a small looking-glass. The glass had thousands of tiny cracks in it that filtered and distorted the light in billions upon billions of different ways. Sometimes the gremlin angled the lens so that what it was displayed was the truth. Most of the time, however, it moved the lens to display what it felt like seeing. Very occasionally it spent time observing the lens itself.
After an indeterminable length of time it sighed. It was trapped on the perch, surrounded on all sides by what it thought was lava. It couldn't be sure it was lava because it could only see the ground through the lens and the lens might be a liar. Sometimes it tried to angle the lens at the ground in such a way that it didn't show lava. But that had never happened... yet. There was no point in climbing down just to have to climb back up. The gremlin wasn't even sure it would be able to climb back up.
A new crack appeared in the lens. The gremlin didn't notice. As time had passed the lens had become increasingly cracked, but slowly, ever so slowly. Each new crack changed every other so that the lens was eternally distorting. But the gremlin couldn't possibly know this. What was once the truth through the lens was slowly turning into a lie. But the gremlin couldn't possibly know this. The lens couldn't be trusted. But the gremlin couldn't ever be sure of this.
One day the lava would look like grass and the gremlin would climb down.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Billiam Shatner will do anything
The William Shatner DVD club are running a competition at the moment. It truly must be the greatest competition ever devised in the universe, ever.
The possibilities are endless.
The possibilities are endless.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
I Have Returned
Yes, I've come to my final decision about Naruto... It's back on.
Woo. I'm going to pick up the fight on Rock Lee's behalf until his return.
Look at me Rock Lee! It's all for you.
[The Rage jumps from the window, hanging himself]
Woo. I'm going to pick up the fight on Rock Lee's behalf until his return.
Look at me Rock Lee! It's all for you.
[The Rage jumps from the window, hanging himself]
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
What Nightmares May Come
The dude's name is Paul Bettany. It's certainly the right look judging against Batman Begins.
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Ah Isaak? Did you do anything else of note?
3:52 PM, October 12, 2007
If you mean to the blog... no...
It's Daly's job anyway.
Though the player doesn't seem to be doing as it should at the moment...
It should be playing my playlist but it's just showing the finetune artist radio options.
There are plans for this shithole. However they have been in gestation for at least a year so don't hold your breath.
In a perfect world I would like more personalisation. Picture folders and my own videos. That kind of shit.
Must write more too.
More readers as well. Motherfuckers.
6:42 PM, October 12, 2007
Uhh, I meant Isaak.
But, yeah. Roll on with the videos and other such gumption.
10:25 AM, October 18, 2007