For you Googlers who keep coming here in search of the image of the new Sabres logo as Barney Rubble’s hair, here’s the link.
Category: Uncategorized
-
8334 of these and I’m set.
So, Debo sent me this. Awesomeness of the Hemingway story aside, a sci-fi story in six-words is good times. Unsurprisingly, Stephenson’s is my favorite. So, here’s my foray.
“Go back and uninvent time travel.”
Oil runs dry. Android cars revolt.
Internet cables forge new ley lines.
Weapon experiment chain reaction incinerates atmosphere.
So I married a lizard goddess.
-
Boogedy
The byways roil with mist and the leaves grow sallow. Dripping black branches creak in the unnatural cold. The slow death that is autumn is upon us, and with it comes this cautionary tale.A young gentlemen, accustomed to a quiet, sensible life of diligent work and pleasant conversation, took it upon himself to travel across the dim expanse of upstate New York to reach the city proper. The day before his trek began, a note arrived from his host-to-be.
“I have this … thing. See the attached picture – yes it does have a curse on it. It’ s about the size of a skinny three year old – it would take up about as much room as a full backpack, say. It ‘s pretty solid, but not too heavy.”
Already feeling the slimy tendrils of fear creeping along the back of his skull at the thought of driving into Gotham, the gentleman’s fancy saw this cargo as a risk to himself and his passengers, a bogy who would plague him throughout the journey. “Poppycock,” he told himself. “It is but a decoration, a maudlin statuette meant to arouse the humours. Enough of this tiresome foolishness.”His first act upon obtaining this ebon idol was to name him, passing the action off as humor and light-heartedness. In the quiet of his soul, though, he imagined the bogy might be pleased with him. As he considered an appropriate sobriquet, the syllable “ire” seemed to be whispered into his thoughts. “‘Ira,’” he ejaculated. “‘Ira’ will do nicely.”
In addition to naming the beast in the backseat of his car, the gentleman rested the map and directions for his journey on the folded lap of the statue. Again, he played it off as a joke, when in truth he felt the beast less likely to malign him if included in responsibilities of the trip.
The majority of the trek passed without incident, lit by an unusually bright full moon and headed toward the increasingly pink sky above the city. The gentleman forgot his fears, losing them in the gentle hum of the road.
As the car approached the bridge of Tappan Zee, the gateway to the city, the gentleman called for the directions. At the exact moment that the papers were removed from Ira’s silent stewardship, a large object flew at the rapidly travelling car. A discarded paper box, large enough to hold an oven, lofted into the air and smashed into the vehicle, obscuring the view of the road. His pulse throbbing in his ears, the gentleman wondered if this, at last, was to be his doom.
A mere second later, the flattened box flew away. The gentleman and his passengers were safe, and the rest of the trip held no further excitements. Ira was delivered, never to be seen again.
-
So Fresh
One of the issues about living a nomadic life temporarily is soap. You end up using girls’ soap. Important things to know:
#1 – It’s not a bar. One of those weird upside-down bottles is filled with a goo that is meant to replace the time-honored bar. It’s probably the one with the outline of a naked woman on it.
#2 – It smells weird. You’re going to stink like apricots for a while. Or shea butter, whatever the hell that is.
#3 – It does stuff to you. I have no idea how this works, but girl soap says things like “stimulates” and “awakens” on the bottle. Girls expect a lot more out of their soap than dudes. For men, soap is for cleaning oneself. For women, soap is the key to unlocking the true self, confident and beautiful and independent.
-
Why Hip-Hop Sucks in ’06
DJ Shadow? Dude, what happened? I mean, I was with you right up until this video. What’s going on? Is there something you need to talk about? You can, you know, like call me if you need to get something off your chest. I tell you what. Why don’t you come over on Friday and we’ll get wasted and play Perfect Dark. Seriously, dude.
-
New Lap Record!
From the Triborough Bridge to Allen Street in 6 hours and 45 minutes. -
Venn Diagrams are Sexy
Haven’t had much to say recently, so here’s a link for you.
-
The Sposta Postah
“Supposed to”. It means “assumed true”, but we use it to mean “should”. “Jimmy Hoffa is supposed to be dead” vs. “You’re supposed to watch out for that! It’s your job!”.
This is lame. I propose a new word: sposta.
spo-sta (spoh-stuh) – auxiliary verb.
1. should; ought to; must. He’s sposta wash the dishes.O, Blogworld! Unedited publishers, unite! Use the word! Show those leather-elbowed oligarchs at Merriam-Webster that the language is ours, that it lives here with us on our gaudy webpages and not in their dust-blanketed mahogany bookcases.
Let ‘sposta’ be the warning shot across the bow of their reputation. They would be wise to recognize our meager word — if not we will hit them with a flood of new verbiage equally if not more base and plebian. We don’t need their authoritarian condescension anymore, and if they don’t want to be completely supplanted by pure democracy, that had best show we groundlings some respect.
Why should the linguists decide what is correct? Sposten’t it be a decision made by all users of the language equally? How dare people who have dedicated their lives to the study of English claim the right to rule over it! Just because you have thirty years of experience and alphabet soup after your name doesn’t mean you know more than us, especially if we’re loud and numerous. Proletariat!
-
My Head is Full of Flames
Daddy, Daddy! Alex is quoting Elliott Smith again!
Now, son. That’s only natural when people go back to work after vacation.
—
Dude, I went to the awesomest library this weekend. I don’t want to wig anybody out, but I think it may have been created for me. One of those deals where God goes back in time and makes it so it was always there. See, I was talking about libraries with Dr. V. So I says to him I says “libraries should sell coffee and have free wifi”. His reply? “We’re going there tomorrow”.
-
According to…
Add this to the litany of cautionary tales regarding the complete uselessness of the staff at videogame stores.
My dear old grandmother plays bridge regularly. She had a copy of Hoyle’s Classic Games for her PC, with which she would practice her mad brizzidge skillz. The CD disappeared, and she needed to reinstall.
Now, one would think that if an old lady were to walk into a videogame specialty store with the case for an earlier version of a current title — a title which was in stock at the store, no less — and ask for help, she would leave with a newly purchased game. There, gentle reader, is where you would be wrong. Dear old Grandma was informed that they did not have the game and that she should leave with haste. I assume she was asked if she wanted to pre-order Madden ’08.
On my recent visit to VT, a stop was made at the mall. Now, I’m not good for much, but finding videogames? Come on. I walked in, looked under “H”, found the game, and purchased it. Clearly I have some kind of preternatural ability. What else could explain how I was able to make the game appear where none was there before? I certainly hope her bridge acumen improves, what with me foresaking my immortal soul and all.
