Enthusiastically Ambiverted Hopepunk
Things that make me laugh, or that I think will make others laugh.
Tim’s got a handy list of ways to tell whether you’re at a restaurant or a bar:
If your napkin feels like linen, it’s a restaurant. If your napkin feels like the Yellow Pages, it’s a bar.
If you need reservations, it’s a restaurant. If you have reservations about admitting where you were till 2 a.m., it’s a bar.
Good thing, too, I’m constantly getting confused.
iTunes: “Brain Washers” by Blackalicious feat. Harper, Ben from the album Blazing Arrow (2002, 6:22).
It was extremely unusual for a Foy to be dying on earth. They were the highest social class on their planet (which had a name that was pronounced — as nearly as earthly throats could make the sounds — Sortibackenstrete) and were virtually immortal.
Every Foy, of course, came to a voluntary death eventually, and this one had given up because of an ill-starred love affair, if you can call it a love affair where five individuals, in order to reproduce, must indulge in a yearlong mental contact. Apparently, the Foy had not fit into the contact after several months of trying, and it had broken his heart — or hearts, for he had five.
All Foys had five large hearts and there was speculation that it was this that made them virtually immortal.
Maude Briscoe, earth’s most renowned surgeon, wanted those hearts. “It can’t be just their number and size, Ray,” she said to her chief assistant. “It has to be something physiological or biochemical. I must have them.”
“I don’t know if we can manage that,” said Ray Johnson. “I’ve been speaking to him earnestly, trying to overcome the Foy taboo against dismemberment after death. I’ve had to lie to him, Maude.”
“Lie?”
“I told him that after death, there would be a dirge sung for him by the world-famous choir led by Harold J. Gassenbaum. I told him that, by earthly belief, this would mean that his astral essence would be instantaneously wafted back, through hyperspace, to his home planet of Sortib-what’s-it’s-name — provided he would sign a release allowing you, Maude, to have his hearts for scientific investigation.”
“Don’t tell me he believed that.”
“Well, you know this modern attitude about accepting the myths and beliefs of intelligent aliens. It wouldn’t have been polite for him not to believe me. Besides, the Foys have a profound admiration for earthly science and I think this one is a little flattered that we should want his hearts. He promised to consider the suggestion and I hope he decides soon because he can’t live more than another, day or so, and we must have his permission by interstellar law, and the hearts must be fresh — Ah, his signal.”
Ray Johnson moved in with smooth and noiseless speed. “Yes?” he whispered, unobtrusively turning on the holographic recording device in case the Foy wished to grant permission.
The Foy’s large, gnarled, rather tree like body lay motionless on the bed. His bulging eyes palpitated — all five of them — as they rose, each on its stalk, and turned toward Ray. The Foy’s voice had a strange tone and the lipless edges of his open round mouth did not move, but the words formed perfectly. His eyes were making the Foyan gestures of assent as he said, “Give my big hearts to Maude, Ray. Dismember me for Harold’s choir. Tell all the Foys on Sortibackenstretethat I will soon be there.”
Isaac Asimov has long been one of my favorite writers. In addition to writing incredibly good science fiction, he could also craft nonfiction scientific essays that were just as interesting to read, a rare gift in any writer. And, of course, he had an absolutely wicked sense of humor and a great love for bad puns.
I just had to share after finding this one. :)
(via MetaFilter)
So — what’s more likely?
That while trying to install and figure out the image-processing software that came with their new digital camera, a husband and wife accidentally opened the husbands previously hidden stash of downloaded porn, or…
That after purchasing a brand-new digital camera, taking a few pictures, and plugging it into their computer, a husband and wife discovered that there were a number of pornographic images already on the camera when they bought it?
An investigation has begun after a couple found pornographic pictures on a new digital camera they had bought.
Jackie and Eammon Gall, from Greater Manchester, discovered the explicit shots in the memory of the camera soon after they bought it for £400 at Argos.
[…]
[Mr. Gall] told BBC GMR: \”When we discovered the pictures, I was trying to get rid of them straight away, because that was my instant reaction.
\”Then for whatever reason the pictures then became part of the desktop and filled up the whole screen.
“Then I started to panic, thinking the pictures would perhaps go anywhere else on the computer that they shouldn’t.”
I know you’re not supposed to snicker at people. But come on…
(via Need to Know)
iTunes: “Child In Us, The” by Enigma from the album Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi! (1996, 5:06).
I found this wonderful ad for the Filipino edition of FHM (For Him Magazine) in a roundup of ten ads America won’t see, via this /. thread.
While there are some interesting ads mentioned (from a Gucci ad deemed ‘too racy’ for the US with our bizarre cultural mores regarding sexuality and the human body to the absolutely astounding Honda Accord ‘Cog’ ad), the self-deprecating humor and honesty in FHM’s ad made it by far my favorite of the bunch.
One of the great benefits of living a TV-free lifestyle (and one of the reasons I went to a TV-free lifestyle) is that I don’t need to sit through the neverending stream of stupid, pandering, insipid ads that eat up a quarter of every show on television. However, every so often, some ads are rather entertaining to see, and it’s nice to be able to take a peek at them from time to time.
While I hate, hate, hate the appearance of what’s so euphemistically called “pre-show entertainment” in the movie theaters lately (the ten minutes of advertising that runs after the advertising slides, but before the fifteen minutes of trailers before you finally get to see the movie you paid for), I saw a great ad for HP photo printers that used a ‘flipbook’ form of animation. The spot opened with a 20-something guy standing in front of a staircase, and you watch him jump up and down a couple times. The scene then cuts to a pair of hands holding a flipbook titled “I defy gravity” made of photos taken of the guy at the peak of multiple jumps, creating an illusion of him flying over the ground, up and down staircases, and over parked cars. Once the flipbook finishes, you get a couple more shots of him jumping up and down, and then it’s over. Quick, simple, amusing, and sticks with you — nicely done.
But I still wish I didn’t have to sit through it before watching a movie.
M&M’s, the colorful button-shaped candies, are about to go off color for the first time in 60 years, but it remains to be seen whether their fans love or hate the change.
The chocolate-filled sugar-coated candies, made by a division of U.S. confectioner Mars Inc., will be available in only black and white for the next few months instead of the standard six colors as part of a promotional campaign.
If anyone might (for some odd reason) be casting about for last-minute late Christmas present ideas for me, a bag (or multiple bags) of these would be great. I’ll eat the white ones, and save up jars of the black ‘goth-y’ M&M’s for amusement and future munch value.
(via Prairie)
Frankly, I’d be more than a little surprised if nobody had attempted zero-g sex yet, no matter how strenuously NASA denies it. Still, if you’re looking to be the “official” first couple to give it a shot (and happen to be absolutely filthy rich), just give the Russian space agency a call!
THEY put the first man in space, then the first tourist. Now the Russians could make one wealthy couple the first members of the 240-mile-high club.
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In its latest attempt to develop space tourism, Russia is offering a pair of newlyweds the chance to swap Venice or Paris for a cosmic honeymoon on board the international space station.
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For $US48 million ($65 million) – the cost of a pair of space return tickets – the couple could become the first to experience the uncharted joys of sex in zero gravity.
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“It would bring the mile-high club to new heights,” said Rob Volmer of Space Adventures, the company that has teamed up with the Russian Aviation and Space Agency to offer the trip.
(via GothicVamps)
I just stumbled across this while perusing the Ship of Fools’ 12 Days of Kitchmas (which is well-worth visiting in itself), and just cannot get over this item: the ‘Glow Grave’ — a stainless-steel grave marker complete with an LCD display that can be hooked into a PC interface to change the epitaph whenever you want!
I can’t. Stop. Laughing.
All I want to do is put a motion detector or pressure sensor on one of these things and hook it into a computer attached to the display so that it can dynamically react to people coming by to visit the grave site. Once it detects someone standing at the grave site, the screen would suddenly start displaying messages from the dear departed…
“I see you!”
“Hey, buster, you’re on my head.”
“It’s hot down here!”
“I knew it — God uses a Mac.”
“Help! There’s no air!”
“These worms really itch.”
“God is a woman after all!”
“You’re next.”
FOUR SCORA AND SEV3N Y3ARS AGO OUR FATHERS BROUGHT FORTH ON THIS CONTIENNT A NU NATION CONCAIEVD IN LIEBRTY AND D3DICAETD 2 TEH PROPOSITION TAHT AL MAN R CR3AETD AQUAL!1!!!11! LOL NOW WA R ENGAEGD IN A GR3AT CIVIL WAR TESTNG WHETHAR TAHT NATION OR ANY NATION SO CONC3IEVD AND SO D3DICAETD CAN LONG ENDURE!1!!1 OMG WTF WE R M3T ON A GRAAT BATLEFEILD OF TAHT WAR!1!1! OMG WTF WE HAEV COMA 2 DADICAET A PORTION OF TAHT FEILD AS A FINAL R3STNG-PLAEC FOR THOS3 WHO HER3 GAEV THEYRE LIEVS TAHT TAHT NATION MIGHT LIEV!!!!!11! WTF IT IS AL2GETH3R FITNG AND PROPER TAHT WE SHUD DO THIS
BUT1111!!! LOL IN A LARGER SANSE WE CANOT D3DICAET W3 CANOT CONS3CRAET WE CANOT HALOW THIS GROUND11!!!!!1 WTF DA BRAEV MEN LIVNG AND D3AD WHO STRUGLED HER3 HAEV CONSECRAETD IT FAR ABOVE OUR POR POWER 2 AD OR DETRACT!!11 OMG TEH WORLD WIL LITLE NOTE NOR LONG REM3MBR WUT WE SAY HERE BUT IT CAN NEVER FORGET WT DID HERE
IT1!1!! OMG WTF IS FOR US DA LIVNG RATHAR 2 B DADICAETD HARE 2 TEH UNFINISHED WORK WHICH TH3Y WHO FOUGHT HERE HAEV THUS FAR SO NOBLY ADVANCED111!!! LOL IT IS RATHAR FOR US 2 B H3RE DADICAETD 2 DA GREAT TASK REMANENG BFORA US-TAHT FROM THESE HONORAD DAAD WE TAEK INCRAAESD DEVOTION 2 TAHT CAUS3 FOR WHICH TH3Y GAEV DA LAST FUL MAASURE OF DAVOTION-TAHT WE HARE HIGHLY R3SOLV3 TAHT THASA D3AD SHAL NOT HAEV DEID IN VANE TAHT THIS NATION UNDER GOD SHAL HAEV A NU BIRTH OF FREDOM AND TAHT GOVERNM3NT OF DA PEOPL3 BY DA PAOPLE FOR DA PEOPL3 SHAL NOT PERISH FROM TEH 3ARTH1!!!11!! WTF
(courtesy of The English-to-12-Year-Old-AOLer Translator, via Phil)
One of the country’s most bizarre disasters ever happened to the city of Boston, Massachusetts, on the afternoon of January 15, 1919. An unusual warm spell had cheered people at the north end of the city, raising the temperature from around zero to the mid-40’s, and business went on as usual.
Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, disaster struck. On a hill above the city, a 90-foot wide tank of molasses intended to be used for production of rum suddenly ruptured, sending two and a half million gallons of molasses in a wall eight to fifteen feet high down into the unsuspecting Boston neighborhood at speeds of up to 35 miles per hour. 21 people were killed, and 150 were injured.
That day’s Boston Evening Globe described the scene:
Fragments of the great tank were thrown into the air, buildings in the neighborhood began to crumple up as though the underpinnings had been pulled away from under them, and scores of people in the various buildings were buried in the ruins, some dead and others badly injured.
The explosion came without the slightest warning. The workmen were at their noontime meal, some eating in the building or just outside, and many of the men in the Department of Public Works Buildings and stables, which are close by, and where many were injured badly, were away at lunch.
Once the low, rumbling sound was heard no one had a chance to escape. The buildings seemed to cringe up as though they were made of pasteboard.
Legal battles followed, of course, but eventually the fault was laid at the feet of the owners of the molasses vat for failing to properly reinforce the vat, and they had to pay out more than a million dollars in damages.
The terrible thing about this disaster was that it was entirely avoidable! In fact, the people of Boston were wary from the beginning of having a large molasses factory on top of a hill. They saw what could happen. However, the head of the factory spoke to the mayor, who in turn spoke to the people of Boston, and succeeded in convincing them that with the amount of money the factory would make, the people would get some of it as the factory spent money and bought goods et cetera. The people accepted this, and allowed the factory to be built.
When you look at it, it’s terribly sad.
21 people were killed — all for the treacle down effect.
