Friday, February 29, 2008

Possible nicknames for someone named Stanley / Ladel


Stan
Stanford
Stan the Man
Stanner
Two Scoops
Man the Stan
Lord Stanley
Lord Stanley of Raymond
Raymond
Stan the Man with the sexy plan
Junior
Stan Stan
Stan Squared
Square root of Stan
Lord Stanley III
Lord Stanley cubed
Stan the delivery guy
President Stan
Stank you very much
Stankonia
The Big Stank
The Defendant
Stan that two-timing son-of-a-bitch
The Second Stanza

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Thank you note from the future / Mallard


Dear Diane-

Thank you so much for the hyperglide. It will come in handy each and every time we need to go to the ozone repository for more electrocubes. Lord knows we’ll go through plenty with the upcoming crystalized spawnsprout! Speaking of which, how is Saldor? I bet he's ready to hop on the next beta transport to the outer photonosphere. Kidding of course. Tell him the next round of mind libations is on me.

Thanks again and hope all is well. Looking forward to seeing you at the next clonefest (unless of course it's canceled due to the pulse wars).

Cordials and Phasewaves,

Richard

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Dr. Oblivion / Corridor


Next time you wake up in the middle of the night, hold your breath and listen for a bit. That faint buzzing sound you hear? You might think it’s your refrigerator but it’s not. It’s him – Dr. Oblivion.

Don’t freak out or anything. He means no harm. In fact chances are you're familiar with his work.

For instance he’s the one who decided that 12 noon was PM and 12 midnight was AM as well as which letters go with which numbers on your phone. He also invented leap year.

Yep. Not exactly a lightweight.

Dr. Oblivion owns channel 1 on your TV dial and uses it to read your mind. Actually no one knows what he uses channel 1 for but that’s what he says just to keep you on your toes.

He’s sneaky like that.

He’s the one who makes objects in your rear view mirror closer than they appear. Oh and he’s the one that gives you the hiccups and foot cramps and forces you to close your eyes when you sneeze. So there’s that.

And there’s more.

You know when your pen runs out of ink and you madly scribble until it comes back to life? Dr. Oblivion isn’t the one who brings is back – he’s the one that made it temporarily inkless.

Yeah he can be kind of a dick.

I failed to mention that Dr. Oblivion lives in the small space of time when you wake up from nap and panic because you think you’re late for work but then realize it’s only Saturday. He’s lived there for like 8 years.

Rent-free no less.

So the next time you wonder who came up with hand-clapping, or why the snooze button gives you 9 minutes, or who decides what color Kansas is on U.S. maps, look no further than your own reflection in the mirror with your eyes closed.

It's your old friend.

zeroth life lesson: the unexplained is merely that. much to my chagrin it won't stay that way.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Rapture manifest / Generator


On the corner of Union and 7th there’s a man who sells jewelry made out of antique spoons. His table’s chock-full of bracelets, broaches, rings, and such. He’s been doing it for years. Our friend rarely sells anything but he finds comfort in the fact that he spends his days doing what he loves which, he often says, is more than most folks can say. Hard to argue with that.
Just last week another man set up a stand on the opposite corner of the street. This guy sells spoons made out of antique jewelry. Our friend has noticed him over there but hasn’t acknowledged him as of yet. He often fantasizes about walking over there and flipping over that fucking table, spilling and scattering his gaudy, overpriced spoons across the sidewalk. But for now he bides his time, minds his own table, and wonders if this apparent adversary is a cruel, yet fleeting encumbrance or the beginning of the end - the rapture manifest.

zeroth life lesson: don't let your fantasies hijack your dreams lest madness set in.

Monday, February 25, 2008

input <> output / Junction


grapes, time, pressure <> old raison liquid
time machine, paper <> papyrus
wizard, robot, hobo <> lloyd from logistics
land, space, area, place <> redundancy
extensive boredom, momentary excitement <> trip to zoo
conference room b, phil janske’s birthday <> ice cream cake
dog, magic <> magic dog
squirrel, sweatpants <> sloth

Friday, February 22, 2008

Comprehensive Q & A / Tapioca


I can’t feel my face, my fingers, or my toes.
>Why is that?
Because it’s so cold outside.
>Why's it so cold?
Because it is winter.
>Why is it winter?
Because the sun’s rays are coming in at a shallower angle with more atmosphere to filter through.
>Why are the sun’s rays doing that?
Because the earth’s rotation is tilted in relation to it’s orbit of the sun.
>Why is the earth orbiting the sun?
Because the sun’s gravity keeps it in place.
>Why?
Because every particle of matter attracts every other particle with a force which is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them.
>Why do particles do this?
Because it’s a law of nature.
>Why are there laws of nature?
Because they are needed in order to explain the happenings of the universe.
>Why is that so important?
Because if we couldn’t explain why things happen then we could never explain anything.
>Why do we need to do that?
Because if nothing can be explained than nothing can be known.
>Why do we need to know anything?
Because if I don’t know anything then I have to question everything, including my own existence.
>Why would you ever question if you really exist?
Because I can’t feel my face, my fingers, or my toes.

BOOOM!!

Thursday, February 21, 2008

The Bastardization of bounceball / Bangs


April 1st, 1987: Seattle native George Midale, a depressed and desperate man with a seemingly eminent divorce and impeding custody battle, comes up with a game called bounceball in his backyard in a last ditch attempt to gain the love and respect of his wife and kids.

April 2nd, 1987: Lorranie Midale decides to give George another chance and they agree to try to work things out – largely due to the great time they all had playing bounceball the day before.

May 15th, 1987: The Midale children introduce their friends to bounceball. They spend hours playing the game in the backyard and develop many of the rules needed for competitive team play.

September 4th, 1987: George and Lorraine organize a neighborhood bounceball tournament with child and adult divisions. Good times are had by all.

February 1st, 1988: The city paper, the Lemon Valley Propheteer, interviews George and runs a story about bounceball and it’s growing popularity in the city.

April 3rd, 1988: The first city sponsored bounceball league begins - utilizing the surrounding high school’s basketball courts and soccer fields.

August 18th, 1990: The Seattle Times runs a story about bounceball and it’s growing popularity in the greater Seattle area.

December 28th, 1990: George Midale is named “Father of the Year” by Family Circle.

January 18th, 1991: George Midale appears on David Letterman with his wife and children and gives a bounceball demonstration in the streets of New York City. Interest in the fledging sport spreads.

1991 – 1992: Bounceball leagues begin to sprout in New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and Miami.

March 4th, 1994: George Midale organizes the first national amateur bounceball tournament in Seattle, Washington. 28 teams representing 16 different cities participate.

1997: Bounceball gains funding as a varsity sport in thousands of high schools nation-wide.

October 7th, 2003: The Wisconsin Badgers defeat the Washington Huskies 8 – 4 in the first NCAA sanctioned bounceball game.

February 17, 2006: The bounceball NCAA championship is nationally televised as Willie “Quick Draw” Bumble scores a then record 7 solo bouncebacks leading the Arizona Wildcats to a thrilling 10-9 victory. Bounceball becomes the most popular collegiate sport in the country.

September 30th, 2008: Mr. George Midale becomes the first commissioner of the Professional Bounceball League of America.

January 15th, 2009: The PBLA conducts its inaugural draft. 180 college players (current and former) are selected. 18 teams with 10 players per team. Calvin Thresher, a sophomore from UCLA, is chosen #1 and signs a 5 year $50 million contract with the Philadelphia Positives two days later.

October 31st, 2009: The Atlanta Synergy defeat the Minneapolis Appreciation 12 – 2 in Bouncy Bowl #1.

August 12th, 2014: Texas Effort star front liner Franklin Spooner sets the PBLA record scoring 10 solo bouncebacks, 11 pass-bys, 10 deflections, and 21 winning stand-offs.

2015: Official PBLA equipment such as head wraps and hand shields sell for $299 and $349 respectively. They generate more revenue than NBA, NFL, and MLBA officially licensed products combined.

2016: The PBLA surpasses the NFL in annual earnings and becomes the nation’s most popular sport.

2021: The PBLA becomes the PBLW (Professional Bounceball League of the World) with franchises in London, Paris, Barcelona, Sydney, Tokyo, Mexico City, Cape Town, and Buenos Aires.

October 31st, 2028: Bouncy Bowl #19 becomes the largest sporting event in the history of the world. 310,000 people pack Google stadium and 150 million others watch from home. 15 people are killed and 36 more are injured in Bangkok during riots after the game.

July 6th, 2030: Paris Perfection star roller Michal Renior commits suicide after receiving hundreds of death threats following a 3 – 4 lose to the Brooklyn Affirmative due to a last second botched pass-by. Over 50,000 people attend his funeral and cheer.

April 8th, 2031: The season is canceled after 8 different teams are indicted in the rubber / latex scandal that resulted in doctored, extra bouncy balls. The following day it’s announced that the previous 6 Bouncy Bowl titles will be relinquished pending further investigation. Multiple riots break out in cities across the globe. Hundreds of people are killed.

May 1st, 2031: The first of thousands of lawsuits are filed against the PBLW. They range from emotional stress to wrongful death.

November 21st, 2031: Timothy Midale, George’s grandson, is murdered in a botched kidnapping attempt.

October 1st, 2032: A protest during a high school bounceball game in Portland, Oregon gets ugly and 2 players, 16 and 18 years old, are beaten to death trying to walk back onto the bounceball field after halftime.

June 30th, 2036: Bankruptcy papers are filed. The PBLW is no more.

2037: All forms of organized bounceball are canceled including college, high school, and tiny tot. Organizers cite safety concerns and fear of legal action as the primary reasons.

2040: After repeated violent incidents being reported at city parks and gyms where bounceball was being played, the local, state, and federal governments unanimously outlaw bounceball – making it a misdemeanor to own a bounceball and a felony to participate in an organized bounceball game.

April 1st, 2047: George Midale dies at the age of 93, exactly 60 years after he invented the game of bounceball in an effort to gain the affection of his wife and kids. Midale died destitute and a recluse, his fortune squandered on legal fees and his sport a worldwide disgrace. His grave is not marked.

zeroth life lesson: purity is a fragile thing easily tainted by popularity.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Jim’s lazy ass plan / Doilie


Allow me to bring you up to speed. The only thing standing in between Jim and his ultimate glory was a large man standing right in between them. Go figure. And this guy looked really pissed. Pissed in a steadfast and pure, ‘I take my job very seriously’ kind of way. So close but yet so far Jim thought to himself as he slowly backed away and made immediate plans to consider a different lot in life. These plans started with a bar stool, an open mind, a raging thirst, and the thought that maybe this whole glory thing is nothing more than a pile of glorified garbage. Now here we are, two hours and six mangled beer coasters later and not only has young James done an about face regarding his thoughts on glory, he’s done hatched himself an idea to boot. He’s decided that he doesn’t have to do anything, you see? This new plan being no plan at all. Beauty in simplicity. His stagnation could very well spearhead a cause geared toward the relaxation of the nation. His lazy ass could serve as a beacon of hope for every overworked, successful, in shape professional whatever in this fine land. Think about it next time you get the urge to floss your teeth or match your socks. The large man standing in between Jim and his glory sure as hell did. Jim’s apathy spread like the plague and soon enough the large man decided it was all pointless. He ceased the standing, laid down on the ground and took a nap, clearing the path for our friend. All Jim needs to do now is take about 4 steps forward and claim what’s rightfully his. I sure hope he does.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Results paltry, further tests needed / Pew



Hypothesis: The velocity and trajectory utilized when throwing various objects at a garage door is inversely related to one’s thoughts and/or beliefs regarding space and time.

Materials Needed:

House with garage and driveway
Measuring tape
Chalk
Mango
Paper airplane
Tennis Ball
Erasable pen
Pocket-sized notebook
Comfortable shoes

Experiment:

Step 1: Use measuring tape to measure 15 feet from garage door. Use chalk to make a line at this distance.
Step 2: Stand in driveway, behind chalk line, facing garage door.
Step 3: Toss mango at garage door with low trajectory and low velocity
Step 4: Use erasable pen and pocket-sized notebook to record current thoughts and/or beliefs regarding space and time.
Step 5: Repeat step 3 using low trajectory and medium velocity
Step 6: Repeat step 4
Step 7: Repeat step 3 using low trajectory and high velocity
Step 8: Repeat step 4
Step 9: Repeat step 3 using medium trajectory and low velocity
Step 10: Repeat step 4
Step 11: Repeat step 3 using medium trajectory and medium velocity
Step 12: Repeat step 4
Step 13: Repeat step 3 using medium trajectory and high velocity
Step 14: Repeat step 4
Step 15: Repeat step 3 using high trajectory and low velocity
Step 16: Repeat step 4
Step 17: Repeat step 3 using high trajectory and medium velocity
Step 18: Repeat step 4
Step 19: Repeat step 3 using high trajectory and high velocity
Step 20: Repeat step 4
Step 21: Repeat steps 3 through 20 using paper airplane.
Step 22: Repeat steps 3 through 20 using tennis ball.

Results:
Mango - When throwing the mango at the garage door my thoughts regarding space and time tended toward the notion of an expanding universe largely made up of mysterious dark matter in which time is non-existent. These thoughts seemed to intensify as the velocity of the thrown mango increased. In contrast, the trajectory had no effect on these thoughts although I should note that the high trajectory / high velocity toss resulted in the mango sailing over the garage door, into the garden in the back yard.

Paper Airplane – When throwing the paper airplane at the garage door my beliefs regarding space became largely self-centered. I gained a distinct awareness of the physical space my mortal body consumed in the natural world and took on an indifferent attitude regarding its role in the grand scheme of the universe. At the same time my thoughts and/or beliefs regarding time became more and more muddled – so much so that I threw my watch against the driveway at one point, rendering it useless. Both velocity and trajectory failed to influence my thoughts in any significant way. In fact all low velocity and low trajectory tosses could safely be categorized as failed trials as the paper airplane failed to reach the garage door in all such attempts.

Tennis Ball – The greater the trajectory of the tennis ball toss the higher level of understanding I accumulated regarding the complex relationship between space and time and how that relationship changes as one approaches the speed of light. This awareness became less clear after toss attempts with either high or low velocity or trajectory. In contrast, this awareness became so acute after the medium / medium toss that I briefly understood how time travel would be possible and used the erasable pen and pocket-sized notebook to sketch what appears to be the blueprints of a time machine. Unfortunately this high level of knowledge was short-lived as the sketch now appears to be nothing more than a crude drawing of a washing machine with an oven timer on top.

Conclusion: Resulting data outlined above, while at times compelling, shows no statistically significant evidence of a relationship (inverse or otherwise) between the velocity and trajectory utilized when throwing various objects at a garage door and one’s thoughts and/or beliefs regarding space and time. Recommendation of further tests have been submitted to the department head and will be conducted pending the approval of further funding to cover the expenses of additional materials – namely new tennis balls and fresh mango.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Attempted conversation with a circle (Part I & II) / Shuttlecock



Part I:

Me: So what's it like being a circle?

Circle: It’s not as bad as you think because I can roll this way and that without having to worry about bumpy corners that might jostle me to and fro, causing me to loose my lunch although I sometimes do have a hard time stopping and often run into other objects such as parking meters, walls, prickly bushes, and the occasional small child but it’s not as bad as you think because I can roll this way and that without having to worry about bumpy corners that might jostle me to and fro, causing me to loose my lunch although I sometimes do have a hard time stopping and often run into other objects such as parking meters, walls, prickly bushes, and the occasional small child but it’s not as bad as you think because I can roll this way and that without having to worry about bumpy corners that might jostle me to and fro, causing me to loose my lunch although I sometimes do have a hard time stopping and often run into other objects such as parking meters, walls, prickly bushes, and the occasional small child but it’s not as bad as you think because I can roll this way and that without having to worry about bumpy corners that might jostle me to and fro, causing me to loose my lunch although I sometimes do have a hard time stopping and often run into other objects such as parking meters, walls, prickly bushes, and the occasional . . .

Part II:

Me: Hey Circle, thanks for meeting me out for dinner. I've been meaning to try this place out. I hear its dessert menu is incredible. Do you have any recommendations?

Circle: 3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937510582097494459230781640628620899862
8034825342117067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701
9385211055596446229489549303819644288109756659334461284756482337867831652712019091456
4856692346034861045432664821339360726024914127372458700660631558817488152092096282925
4091715364367892590360011330530548820466521384146951941511609433057270365759591953092
1861173819326117931051185480744623799627495673518857527248912279381830119491298336733
6244065664308602139494639522473719070217986094370277053921717629317675238467481846766
9405132000568127145263560827785771342757789609173637178721468440901224953430146549585
3710507922796892589235420199561121290219608640344181598136297747713099605187072113499
9999837297804995105973173281609631859502445945534690830264252230825334468503526193118
8171010003137838752886587533208381420617177669147303598253490428755468731159562863882
3537875937519577818577805321712268066130019278766111959092164201989. . .

Friday, February 15, 2008

Ode to Dan / Houndstooth


He had planned on making them all breakfast. Pancakes from scratch. He’d done it once before. Everyone was congregated in the kitchen, sharing stories from the night before, laughing and hungry, heads throbbing. He was working as fast as he could. He was hung over and couldn’t remember how much baking soda to use. Or was it baking powder? Was it tablespoons or teaspoons? Not only did he not know the answer, he knew that he would guess wrong. He was never more sure of anything in his life. Soon enough it came to pass. The batter was all fucked up. These pancakes weren’t going to work. Motherfucker. He sensed a lull in the conversation behind him. The dread that enveloped him was now spreading to the rest of his guests.

“How are those pancakes coming?”

He wanted to say fine. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to tell. He knew they’d be shit bricks but dump enough syrup on ‘em. . . He wasn't the only one with a hangover after all.

“Don’t you have any of that instant shit where you just add water?”

Maybe he could start over. He’d have to run to the store to pick up some new ingredients. Eggs, milk, flour, fuck it. It was 20 minutes to the grocery store. He didn’t even remember where he’d parked his car.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?”

He brutally fought every last urge in his body to toss the frying pan across the kitchen. More than anything he now just wanted to go back to bed. He felt every eyeball lasered to the back of his skull as he clumsily stirred the shit brick batter and briefly opened and closed the oven door for some reason. Why was life so god damned hard?

He spoke.

“These pancakes aren’t going to work. I either used too much or not enough baking soda or powder. There’s a great greasy spoon type diner down the street. About a 10-minute walk. You guys wanna go there?”

This was fine with everybody. They had all expected him to chuck that frying pan. Maybe punch a hole in a wall. They were all quite impressed with the rally and the suggestion. They had a lovely breakfast.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Got a sec? (aka "Pinging Nathanial") / Kaleidoscope


Sure! Come on in! Have a seat. So what can I do for ya? Uh huh. . . Ok. . . I see. . . Listen. Don’t mean to interrupt but can you do me a favor and cut to the chase here? I’m a busy guy – got lots of folks with problems that need solving. So if you could stick to the nuts and bolts of the issue at hand the chances that I’ll be of immediate assistance increase by a factor of ten. So lay it on me sister. Oh, but before you do, I should apologize in advance if I have to leave you mid-sentence to attend to another, higher priority problem that requires my urgent attention. Unfortunately that’s been the nature of the beast as of late. You understand. But I digress. Talk to me. . . Uh huh. . . Dave from corporate? . . OK so what’s his beef? . . You mention it to Gloria? . . . And what was her slant on it? . . Ha! Typical. Listen pal - I’ve got a 10:30 on 19 so I gotta keep this brief but if you know what’s good for you you’d best take out a pen and jot this down. Hope you know shorthand because I’m only gonna say this once. . . Accipere quam facere praestat injuriam. . . You ever take Latin? Of course not. What in means is that it’s better to (phone rings). Christ. This is Tokyo. There’s a clusterfuck out east that apparently only I can untangle. We’ll have to pick this at a later time. Ping Nathanial on your way out to set something up. (picks up phone) Konichiwa.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Quite the asterisk / Rhubarb



Douglas Nevins had to try pretty hard to feel hard of luck. A special lady, a little rug rat, a loyal pooch, square footage to spare – the whole ball of wax so to speak. Yet all he had didn’t add up to it. It being thee it. The it that makes all the difference. The it that doesn’t pay the bills but makes the bills not worth paying. The it that doesn’t add the cherry on top but tops that cherry with chocolate sprinkles. The it that doesn’t add hours to your day but still adds years to your life. That sort of thing. That sort of it.

So Doug quit his 9-5 and went looking for it. He became a construction worker specializing in churches and hospitals and puppy farms and such. Thought he might find it through calloused hands and a sweaty brow. He had it for a sec but lost it.
So Doug quit the construction gig and kept looking. He spearheaded an after-school program for underprivileged inner city kids with skin problems and shabby shoes. Thought he might find it in the smiles and the betterment of others. He had it for a sec but lost it.
So Doug said his goodbyes to the kids and kept looking. He joined a rock and roll band called Human Resources that sounded sort of like Radiohead but was even more experimental and infused. Thought he might find it somewhere in between the fame and the who-ha pills. He had it for a sec but lost it.
So Doug orchestrated a farewell tour and kept looking. He finagled his way onto an Alaskan man-eating crab fishing expedition that refused to set sail in calm waters. Thought he might find it deep down amidst the salty sea spray and the rocking deck. He had it for a sec but lost it.
So Doug jumped ship and swan to the Far East. He trained with Buddhist monks for several years where he learned to ignore pain, tell the future, survive without food, and breathe through his hands. He forsook his family, his name, and his gender. He was brainwashed, castrated, and took the name of Siurn Matta. Eventually he forgot everything there was to forget about his former life. Then one day, many moons later, Siurn was teleporting across the barren Gobi desert when he noticed something half buried in the sand. The moment he saw it he knew what it was. Siurn picked up the banana* and as he stared at it complete clarity enveloped him in a refreshing gush. He had finally found it. Doug laughed/cried for joy so hard he ceased to breath. His hands were no help as they were clutching it ever so tightly. He died the only happy man.

*other possible its:
-magic jewel rock
-Brett Favre
-brown paper packages tied up in strings
-Tennis Ball
-tattoo of barbed wire around upper arm
-scepter
-lifetime supply of milk
-Oct. 7th, 1991
-picture of wife
-ace of spades
-good solid walking stick
-Hope
-Love
-Peppermint schnapps

zeroth life lesson: the secret of life is embracing your individuality. the rest is just a carefully choreographed circus.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Sonnet / Sickle


I broke the silence and asked him his name.
After quite some time he answered with ‘Matt’.
An added inquiry as to the reason he came,
Revealed things were over in terms of the chitchat.
Had I done him wrong in some past life?
Maybe inadvertently insulted his next of kin?
Questions he answered with the blade of his knife,
Pressed against my neck in my own kitchen.
It then occurred to me that there was a missing 4,
From my home’s address display now reading 93.
Chances are Matt had knocked on the wrong door.
This violent intrusion was not intended for me.
I told ole Matt of his honest mistake.
We laughed so hard our bellies ached.

Monday, February 11, 2008

These aren’t even words / Dumbwaiter


I knew a guy who could tie his own hands together using his teeth but couldn’t see himself in the mirror while wearing a blindfold. Go figure. Seems like half a dozen of one and six of the other I said as I untied the blindfold and promptly collected my $36. The next day he felt like settling the score so we both got up early, skipped breakfast, positioned two uncomfortable chairs so they faced each other, and sat down with the intentions of spending the day thinking of things the other guy just forgot. I won 11-9 thanks to a last minute recollection of the whereabouts of his jogging socks back in ‘84 – easy 2 points. Still unconvinced, my surly adversary challenged me to an old fashioned game of “truthy/falsey”. Little did he know the game was rigged from the get-go as the Lord has blessed me with mastery in the way of paradoxes, which serves a fruitful purpose in such a game - as you shall soon see. Needless to say I obliged to my foe’s provocation and even let him throw the first haymaker seeing how I already knew the outcome. All the poor soul could muster was, “You can’t know something without knowing everything” to which I promptly replied, “Truthy”. Point yours truly. I then used my turn to put him out of his misery when I said, “ These aren’t even words.” God bless him if he didn’t stutter and stammer for a good 10 minutes before he realized if what I said was a truthy than it was a fasley and if it was a falsey than it was a truthy. The perfect paradox, you see? It’s a wonder his head didn’t explode right then and there. Lucky for him I was in a cordial mood. We shook hands, called it square, and agreed to never associate again. A win-win in my book.

Friday, February 8, 2008

Frivolous to-do list / Talon


-Verify European shoe size
-Weigh the dog
-Mimic light bulb
-Purchase crystal display case for rare flower found when on Indonesian quest to find myself last month
-Write a letter to sports
-Dust something
-Question the weather
-Tie knot on string. Glue string to paper. Then fold paper.
-Decrumb toaster
-Use the phrase ‘there’s more than one way to skin a cat’ while ordering food over the phone
-Take it to a whole 'nother level
-Locate VHS tape with old dunk contest
-Tennis Ball
-Reconfigure cardboard box to original spec

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Rod’s long night / Gravy



. . . It’s not that difficult. Pick up the phone and call somebody back. It’s a matter of common courtesy. I’d go so far as to say that calling people back is one of the primary purposes behind the invention of the telephone. I mean you’re either receiving calls, making calls, or calling people back. Am I wrong? What kind of a person would whole-heartedly refuse to partake in the whole calling people back aspect? Why even own a telephone if you’re not going to use it to call people back? At the very least you should reach out to your wireless provider and see if you qualify for a lower monthly rate or something considering you never return calls. Save some money at least.
You’re aware I don’t own a car. That little nugget of info has been discussed between us several times - as was my need of a ride to the party tonight. Given my knowledge of your phone number, and your knowledge of how to operate a phone combined with your knowledge of my car situation and need for a ride, I’m having difficulty coming to any sort of conclusion by reason or logic of what the fuck is going on here. It’s not that your phone is out off juice because each time I call it rings before going to voicemail and from what I’ve been told if your phone really was out of batteries, or turned off, or broken, my repeated calls would go straight to voicemail. So I’m left to deduce that you are simply that stupid. You cannot remember how to operate a telephone. Well here’s a tip brainiac: It’s not that difficult. Just pick up the phone and call somebody back. It’s a manner of common courtesy. . .

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Nifty tattoo gag / Cummerbunds


I've always wanted to get a tattoo on my forearm of an old man wearing a red stocking cap carrying a bad of groceries - and right underneath that, the word "DAD" in big letters. Then, from that day forward, I'd always keep my eyes peeled for an old man wearing a red stocking cap carrying a bad of groceries. Then, if I ever saw one, I would walk towards him and sort of accidentally run into him so we would both fall to the ground and his groceries would spill all over the sidewalk. I would be very apologetic and help him gather his things, being careful not to make eye contact. Then, after I had helped him repack his bag, I'd help him to his feet, notice his red stocking cap, pull up my sleeve, show him my tattoo and say, "Mom always said you never watched where you were walking."

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Thinkvoice vs. Longwind / Flume


Saul Thinkvoice walks into the elevator. “Walking into elevator”, he declares. A minute later he’s walking down the hallway to his office. “Gonna turn on my computer and check my email in a minute or so”, he states to no one in particular. Sitting at his desk Saul yells, “turning on computer!”

Meanwhile Minnie Longwind is in the breakroom getting some coffee with Berl Peterson. “It is hard for me, Minniford Longwind, to believe that today, February 5th 2008, is only Wednesday of this week Berl Peterson.”
“I hear that.” Berl replies.
“My main reason for this thought stems from how unexpectedly busy with work both Monday of this week and Tuesday of this week were. The situation is almost as if my mind thinks both days should have counted for two days each instead of the single one day. The conclusion being that today, Wednesday, February 5th 2008 of this week, feels to me more like Friday of this week Berl Peterson.”

Berl has long since left the breakroom.

Minnie Longwind’s office is right next to Saul’s. To say that they get one each other’s nerves would be putting it lightly. Saul sees Minnie coming down the hall with her coffee.

“Hope that crazy jabbering bitch leaves me alone today.”

Minnie overhears it and feels it’s time for another chat.

“Mr. Saul Thinkvoice I still do not understand in my head of my body why it is that you remain adamant in your stance of verbalizing the vast majority of your brain thoughts out loud so that everyone in the general vicinity of the area can hear the thoughts whether the thoughts were intended for those people in the area to hear or not.”

“Looney broad’s using more words than necessary again and it’s obnoxious.”

“That sentence of words you spoke with your mouth right there this moment serves as a prime example of the very observation I am attempting to convey to you, Mr. Saul Thinkvoice.”

“Going to pretend I’m off to a meeting that I’m already late for so I don’t have to speak to this blathering nut job,” Saul says as he gets up from his chair.

“I also should also not fail to mention at this time that immediately after I complete this conversation with you, Mr. Saul Thinkvoice, I, Minniford Longwind, Minnie for short, will march using my feet down this hallway of floor, down another hallway of floor, over in the direction of this company’s director of Human Resources, Mr. Berl Peterson, and have a conversation with him in which the primary topic of conversation will be you, Mr. Saul Thinkvoice. I will explain to him using my mouth and voice how you continue to call me different names of a negative nature in my presence even though you’ve been warned on several different occasions that this type of negative name calling behavior should not continue to continue.”

Saul has long since left for his fake meeting.

Minnie’s coffee is cold.

Monday, February 4, 2008

Go wildcats! / Buoy


I asked you boys a few seconds ago if you were scared. And while none of you responded in the form of a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ I could tell from the look in your eyes what the answer was and that’s OK cuz they’re scared too. Not only are they scared, but they’re kneeling in a locker room right now about 50 feet from here listening to their coach tell them how scared we are. My point being that they are just like us, except for one glaring difference. Potential gentlemen. . . Potential. And the driving force behind potential is the ability to be ordinary. And the only thing ordinary about tonight is what we need to leave on the field. Which is nothing. We need to leave nothing on the field tonight. Which is to say that nothing about tonight is ordinary – to clarify what I was saying before. If we go out there scared, filled with the potential to leave nothing on the field then we will succeed. Scared in a good way that is. And play well.

Friday, February 1, 2008

Privileged peepers / Narwhal


I’ve seen grizzly bears scale buildings in pursuit of man.
I’ve seen Phil Shikenjanski’s revised five-year plan.
I’ve seen fields of rutabaga ablaze for miles.
I’ve seen Karl Rundgren neglect to backup his files.
I’ve seen children frolic in the midnight air.
I’ve seen Linda Brusco demand an ergonomic chair.
I've seen the mark of the uprising tattooed onto soldiers.
I've seen Cal Higgins deny Starbucks is better than Folgers.
I've seen shields built of cardboard and and spears made of plaster.
I've seen Lynn Warbuckle skip lunch each time her boss asks her.
I've seen disease ridden towns and festering seas.
I've seen Stanley Lamparski double-book conference room B.
I’ve seen the visions of mystics and dreams of the damned.
I’ve seen Randall McPherson seal a deal for 12 grand.