So listen, I know there have been a lot of things that have happened this week - to all of us! But I really do have to emphasize that THIS WEEK, we learned there was whale bacon!
It's not every day, or even every week that whale bacon comes along...I'm just sayin.
(oh, and yeah the title is dead on. In 5 more, we'll be at 1000 posts here @ fjord. I did a little piece speculating about creating a blog right here...and for no good reason I gave up all my secrets as to how to write a really astounding blog post over here.)
Yes, I think everyone can take something away with them this week.
Whale Bacon!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Is Firday?
So hell fjordian minions, I dig it's Friday and alls, but I alzo been writin' a big chunka' the day, and really am aboot to stop draggin' my finders (err...typo, wuz suppozed to be fingers) over this here key-bored! However, since you stopped by...I'll leave yas wid a chunka da eggspanded Pigglesworth and Gimpson tale I'm workin' on.
(P.S. It's the second part of the last P&G story I wrote - like two weeks ago...)
Moments later they passed through Clarendon Square in a cold rain, stepping over puddles, and forcing their way through a mass of umbrellas and glum-faced workers on the sidewalk, who hurried towards home or some other warm locale. Not long after they were on Seymore Street, and hurrying towards the worn doors of a dirty stone building. Of course, describing the two doors Pigglesworth and Gimpson were hurrying towards as “worn” is an understatemnent. They had, after decades of use, been polished down to the bare wood by countless passing hands. There was not a fleck of paint within four feet of the handles, and inches of wood had been brushed away into smooth dimples, where one might find their hands naturally moving towards in order to open the portal. If one had done such a thing, one would have found the oak doors had become so smooth that it felt like balsa-wood to the touch. Of course, this was when it wasn’t wet.
Above and around the two doors, was an arch of massive granite blocks. Whether the
arch was ornamental, or entirely structural was a secret unknown to those who lived in the place, or frequented it. However, bolted to the huge key-stone of the arch was a rusty iron pole that projected out more than five feet. Fastened to it with chains, was a dripping sign that swung in the breeze with random squeaks, reading “Boddington & Son Billiard Room & Public House.”
Pigglesworth moved up the three steps to the door, and pulled it open. Gimpson, mere feet behind his companion, dashed through the opening first. Seconds later they were removing their overcoats and hats, placing them on overflowing hooks and coat-trees positioned near the door. They had barely completed the task, and turned towards the bar, when a grizzled sailor stepped directly in front of them. He had short gray hair stuck on a head some six feet-four off the ground. Under that was an ugly face that had seen many ugly things, and a body that was formed from years of hard labor, and capable of a few years more. He jabbed a huge finger into Pigglesworth’s chest.
“Well, if it isn’t Lieutenant Pigglesworth! I’ve got more than a few scores to settle with you from the H.M.S. Swift, and I’ll begin the accounting right now!”
With that, he formed a powerful fist as he pulled his arm back. Before he could continue his assult, there was a solid “thunk” whereupon a confused look passed his eyes, and he fell straight down to the floor, crashing upon his rump where he sat, reaching up to feel the back of his head. Behind him was reviealed all five-foot two of young Peter Boddington, who brandished a thick bottle in his hand.
“Ere then!” He said down to the sailor, “We don’t go for louts like you assultin’ our regular customers, much less good ones like Mister Pigglesworth and Mister Gimpson. So take your hide elsewere, or I’ll give ya another drubbing!” He pasued with the bottle poised in his hand, waiting to see what the sailor would do. The sailor continued to rub his head in confusion.
“GO ON THEN!” Peter said much louder.
The sailor moved unsteadily to his feet, and turned towards the door. He had however, either a very powerful grudge, or had decided he wasn’t going to take being humiliated in public by a 17 year-old boy. He spun quickly spun around – throwing a fist in a wide hook towards Peter’s head. In a heartbeat, Peter slipped inside the punch, and with a short overhand clubbing motion, smacked the sailor promptly in the face with the bottle. He fell backwards to the floor, and didn’t move. Peter turned back to Pigglesworth and Gimpson.
“Never you mind about him. I’ll take care of it. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Oh, that reminds me…father was just over at the bar chatting with some fellow and he says – not to me at the time, I was just passing through with some mugs, but I overhears him say, “What a pity my friend Mister Gimpson isn’t here, why he’s a man of science.” If he’s still there, you should say hello, I sure he would be happy to see you.” With that, he turned around without awaiting a single word, and with surprising strength, picked the huge sailor off the floor by the scruff of his neck – and back of his jacket, and heaved him through the doors, into the street.
“Jolly good show.” Said Pigglesworth to Peter, as they moved towards the bar.
“Why I enjoy coming here,” Said Gimpson, “always feel safe.”
(P.S. It's the second part of the last P&G story I wrote - like two weeks ago...)
Moments later they passed through Clarendon Square in a cold rain, stepping over puddles, and forcing their way through a mass of umbrellas and glum-faced workers on the sidewalk, who hurried towards home or some other warm locale. Not long after they were on Seymore Street, and hurrying towards the worn doors of a dirty stone building. Of course, describing the two doors Pigglesworth and Gimpson were hurrying towards as “worn” is an understatemnent. They had, after decades of use, been polished down to the bare wood by countless passing hands. There was not a fleck of paint within four feet of the handles, and inches of wood had been brushed away into smooth dimples, where one might find their hands naturally moving towards in order to open the portal. If one had done such a thing, one would have found the oak doors had become so smooth that it felt like balsa-wood to the touch. Of course, this was when it wasn’t wet.
Above and around the two doors, was an arch of massive granite blocks. Whether the
arch was ornamental, or entirely structural was a secret unknown to those who lived in the place, or frequented it. However, bolted to the huge key-stone of the arch was a rusty iron pole that projected out more than five feet. Fastened to it with chains, was a dripping sign that swung in the breeze with random squeaks, reading “Boddington & Son Billiard Room & Public House.”
Pigglesworth moved up the three steps to the door, and pulled it open. Gimpson, mere feet behind his companion, dashed through the opening first. Seconds later they were removing their overcoats and hats, placing them on overflowing hooks and coat-trees positioned near the door. They had barely completed the task, and turned towards the bar, when a grizzled sailor stepped directly in front of them. He had short gray hair stuck on a head some six feet-four off the ground. Under that was an ugly face that had seen many ugly things, and a body that was formed from years of hard labor, and capable of a few years more. He jabbed a huge finger into Pigglesworth’s chest.
“Well, if it isn’t Lieutenant Pigglesworth! I’ve got more than a few scores to settle with you from the H.M.S. Swift, and I’ll begin the accounting right now!”
With that, he formed a powerful fist as he pulled his arm back. Before he could continue his assult, there was a solid “thunk” whereupon a confused look passed his eyes, and he fell straight down to the floor, crashing upon his rump where he sat, reaching up to feel the back of his head. Behind him was reviealed all five-foot two of young Peter Boddington, who brandished a thick bottle in his hand.
“Ere then!” He said down to the sailor, “We don’t go for louts like you assultin’ our regular customers, much less good ones like Mister Pigglesworth and Mister Gimpson. So take your hide elsewere, or I’ll give ya another drubbing!” He pasued with the bottle poised in his hand, waiting to see what the sailor would do. The sailor continued to rub his head in confusion.
“GO ON THEN!” Peter said much louder.
The sailor moved unsteadily to his feet, and turned towards the door. He had however, either a very powerful grudge, or had decided he wasn’t going to take being humiliated in public by a 17 year-old boy. He spun quickly spun around – throwing a fist in a wide hook towards Peter’s head. In a heartbeat, Peter slipped inside the punch, and with a short overhand clubbing motion, smacked the sailor promptly in the face with the bottle. He fell backwards to the floor, and didn’t move. Peter turned back to Pigglesworth and Gimpson.
“Never you mind about him. I’ll take care of it. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Oh, that reminds me…father was just over at the bar chatting with some fellow and he says – not to me at the time, I was just passing through with some mugs, but I overhears him say, “What a pity my friend Mister Gimpson isn’t here, why he’s a man of science.” If he’s still there, you should say hello, I sure he would be happy to see you.” With that, he turned around without awaiting a single word, and with surprising strength, picked the huge sailor off the floor by the scruff of his neck – and back of his jacket, and heaved him through the doors, into the street.
“Jolly good show.” Said Pigglesworth to Peter, as they moved towards the bar.
“Why I enjoy coming here,” Said Gimpson, “always feel safe.”
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Speaking of Smart...
This blog sure ain't been in the mensa level lately...
but I will present you with exhibit "I"
but I will present you with exhibit "I"
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Haha! I thought this one was "The Amazing Intelligence of Cows!"
It's "The Amazing Intelligence of Crows"
(I'll say this much...I do like the TED series, but if they can't get a frikken video imbed to work in a stupid blog, they ain't doin' somethin' right. Please see below and follow the link.)
here's the link.
However, here's the "amazing intelligence of cows." I give you Exhibit "H"
(I'll say this much...I do like the TED series, but if they can't get a frikken video imbed to work in a stupid blog, they ain't doin' somethin' right. Please see below and follow the link.)
here's the link.
However, here's the "amazing intelligence of cows." I give you Exhibit "H"
There's a Buncha "TED" Videos Around
I caught this one yesterday, and I thought it was funny - and probably worth hearing. It appears their embed code is botched-up, so if the player don't play, follow this link. Kay?
***Update*** it don't play, so I removed it (and the proceeding). But it's a nice lecture that's about twice as entertaining as the "crows" bit, about urban space.
***Update*** it don't play, so I removed it (and the proceeding). But it's a nice lecture that's about twice as entertaining as the "crows" bit, about urban space.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Exhibit "G"
Continuing the continuing of the continuing. Henceforth will be only referred to as "the continuing."
Ahhh yes...time for a little story about Mars!
Here's a shot of the Phoenix lander heading thru the martian atmosphere, about to do some sciencey crap. The shot was taken by the Mars Reconnissance Orbiter - which makes this photo super-duper cool, cause it's the first time a spaceprobe has been photographed landing ON ANOTHER PLANET! Thas purtty dope meng.
Anyhoo - over here is the mission homepage (with the link direct to the recent images - it's only been there for a day) but it's pretty much worth lookin' at. So anywise, not too long ago I went to JPL for an open house, which had some uber-cool stuff - and ended up talking to a guy who was...what the hell was he? Something like, "I'm the manager of onboard systems operations." (That's a really rough guess...) The guy was such an awesome geek - like a true rocket-scientist, he was more than happy to talk about stuff - and I was more than happy to ask questions and listen to the answers (which was also true of the guys who worked with the (two) Mars rovers that are already there, and the guy who was showing off the next-gen rover that was a bad-assed robot. (And when I say bad-assed robot, I dooo know what I'm talking about) Well, to get back to my story, I asked the Phoenix dude what his favorite tool or sensor was on his space probe. He responded with a giant grin, and saying he had two. One was the claw arm which would dig thru the martian soil, and the other was a sensor which would analize the samples (which he/they hoped would have ice) that would be dug up by the claw, and hopefully detect life, which, he continued, would be really exciting.
To this I responded, "Unless it's a virus that turns humans into zombies, and we can never go there!" He paused for a second, processing what I just said, and then we all cracked up. I wished him luck, and I'm sure he's having the time of his life right now. Anyhoo - here's a couple of pic's of the moment.
(Both snaps by Victoria!)
Well, that's my anecdote about the Phoenix. I have another space-probe story right here which is pretty amusing. If you want the short version...here's the most important bits in a short video.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
There are two things that are super great about this...
One...the actual headline. Japan to probe whale meat 'theft'
Two...this buried deep in the story
"...Instead, it contained prized "unesu" meat used to make whale bacon."
Fjuckin' WHALE BACON! ! !
Two...this buried deep in the story
"...Instead, it contained prized "unesu" meat used to make whale bacon."
Fjuckin' WHALE BACON! ! !
There are no words. None. Okay, mebby there's two.
WHALE BACON!
Saturday, May 24, 2008
A Couple More Fjrom The Archjives!
A Friday post With Albert Finney!Sam's Scepter Warehouse (2005)
Skewerburger, Skullcracker, Fishmonger and Brick. Fjordian Lawyers in action (2005)
Well, there goes the neighborhood...a short, short story (2005 - and in my opinion, one o' the best things I ever dropped on Fjord)
Somthing really nice...edited so there's no chaff. (2005)
P.S. - I'd really like to thank whoever visited at 6:42 from Dallas, TX for bringing me back to November '05. There is some savory postage buried in the archives...
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Back to the Continuing...
Submitted for your approval. Exhibit's "E" and "F"
And since it appears our pal Rhino's been watching this one kinda' close...here's a video extra of one of those mothafjucka's in action!
-BTW- a group of Rhino's is called a crash. Use that in your next conversation.
And since it appears our pal Rhino's been watching this one kinda' close...here's a video extra of one of those mothafjucka's in action!
-BTW- a group of Rhino's is called a crash. Use that in your next conversation.
Just Another Great Thing...
From the Archives~!It's an old Ze Frank episode, that's quite worth the three minutes it'll take you to watch it.
Click Here!
Seriously, even the Pope can't believe how much great stuff is over there! I can't, and I wrote most of it! Go Look!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Conveyances
So there's this super-great article in the New Yorker about elevators. Such a take-for-granted slice of modern-day life, that you barely notice. Yet, without them the skyscraper as we know it would not exist. It's really worth reading.
Anyhoo this topic was pretty useful in shifting the conversation to a more exposed (and I want to say "elegant" but I understand this might be a subjective statement) conveyance - the escalator.
You might remember (tho probly not) I had done a little research into a hit-man character, who killed people by staging elevator and escalator accidents. Anyways, a couple more things have come down the pipe in the last coupla' days, which are sort-of relevant. Like there's this bit from the NYT about their new subway escalators. (I'm not sure how long their links last, so I'll just paste this juicy bit...
"On the morning of August 28, Lisa Chiou, 33, got off a subway train at the Bowling Green station in Lower Manhattan and got on an escalator that would carry her up and out of the station to Broadway. She placed her right foot (she was wearing flip-flops) on the lowest step, and as the escalator rose, she put her left foot on the step below it.
Except all of a sudden, there was no next step. There was a crash, and Ms. Chiou looked down to see that the escalator step that had been under her left foot had fallen out of the machine. It sheared off three more steps below it, and Ms. Chiou found herself slipping backward into the void.
“It was literally a split second,” Ms. Chiou recalled. “My left foot was still on that step when it fell in. My foot sank in with it, and I just kind of pulled my leg back out. So I got scraped by the metal and stuff.”
Ms. Chiou managed to stumble up the still-moving escalator and make her way to the top. She had a small cut on her leg that required two stitches. “If one foot wasn’t on a sure step,” she said, “I would have fallen in, and I would have been eaten up by the escalator.” "
Anyhoo this topic was pretty useful in shifting the conversation to a more exposed (and I want to say "elegant" but I understand this might be a subjective statement) conveyance - the escalator.
You might remember (tho probly not) I had done a little research into a hit-man character, who killed people by staging elevator and escalator accidents. Anyways, a couple more things have come down the pipe in the last coupla' days, which are sort-of relevant. Like there's this bit from the NYT about their new subway escalators. (I'm not sure how long their links last, so I'll just paste this juicy bit...
"On the morning of August 28, Lisa Chiou, 33, got off a subway train at the Bowling Green station in Lower Manhattan and got on an escalator that would carry her up and out of the station to Broadway. She placed her right foot (she was wearing flip-flops) on the lowest step, and as the escalator rose, she put her left foot on the step below it.
Except all of a sudden, there was no next step. There was a crash, and Ms. Chiou looked down to see that the escalator step that had been under her left foot had fallen out of the machine. It sheared off three more steps below it, and Ms. Chiou found herself slipping backward into the void.
“It was literally a split second,” Ms. Chiou recalled. “My left foot was still on that step when it fell in. My foot sank in with it, and I just kind of pulled my leg back out. So I got scraped by the metal and stuff.”
Ms. Chiou managed to stumble up the still-moving escalator and make her way to the top. She had a small cut on her leg that required two stitches. “If one foot wasn’t on a sure step,” she said, “I would have fallen in, and I would have been eaten up by the escalator.” "
Yep - That's pretty much what I envisioned my hitman doing. Who would suspect an escalator step of just vanishing into a void and eating up a person? "A horrible accident..." the authorities would say, while the assassin twirls his moustache in the shadows, laughing.
Well, shortly after (or before...internet time gets confjusing) there was a nice article over at Pruned on the worlds longest escalator system. So, that about wraps it from this end.
***EXCEPT***
This does remind me I dooo have to make a note of the dangers of wearing "flip-flops" I disprove of those things...for a variety of reasons.
Eclipses! Sure, why not?
There's enough sciencey goodness packed into this article it'll make (casting around madly for a similie) err, a chocolate truffle taste like angel-food cake! (Yay! Tastes like, success!)
"Stuart Eves thinks that demonstrating a role for infrasound might explain some other puzzling phenomena associated with eclipses.
For example, long period Foucault pendulums - designed to demonstrate the rotation of the Earth - have been known to swing wildly during eclipses."
"Stuart Eves thinks that demonstrating a role for infrasound might explain some other puzzling phenomena associated with eclipses.
For example, long period Foucault pendulums - designed to demonstrate the rotation of the Earth - have been known to swing wildly during eclipses."
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Continuing Our Exploration Into the Similarities of
Cows and Kangaroos...I present...exhibit "B"
I'm beginning to grasp we are going to need most of the alphabet's worth of exhibits in order to get to the bottom of this.
I'm beginning to grasp we are going to need most of the alphabet's worth of exhibits in order to get to the bottom of this.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Here's A story I came across...
That I liked a lot.
Something familiar about the tone, methinks.
(gonna read summore of the guys stuff - will letcha know what I think.)
***Update***
Yeah, the Ed Stories series is pretty fun.
Something familiar about the tone, methinks.
(gonna read summore of the guys stuff - will letcha know what I think.)
***Update***
Yeah, the Ed Stories series is pretty fun.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Today, I'm powerful sad.
This here link was right up my alley.
If you ain't powerful sad, the link might make you so. So mebby you shouldn't, yaknow?
If you ain't powerful sad, the link might make you so. So mebby you shouldn't, yaknow?
Friday, May 16, 2008
After that sexy story...I'll bet you want more sexy!
Well hells bells...I gots the Sexy right here! Don't need no boy-band castout to bring it back fer me!
May is National Masturbation Month!
I'm just a little peeved I didn't find out about it until now. However, there is still 15 days left in the month, and that's plenty of time to get in on...err, how do you say, ah yes...the sexy!
May is National Masturbation Month!
I'm just a little peeved I didn't find out about it until now. However, there is still 15 days left in the month, and that's plenty of time to get in on...err, how do you say, ah yes...the sexy!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Here's Something From the Archives
I figger I'll just put this little piece back up, for those of you not with us in '06. And if you were, I think you'll be happy to see it again.***
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Some Thursday Night Lite Fiction For Youse
She didn't seem like the kind of girl who would rip the legs off of a
cricket. But then again, how well do you know anyone? The incident
happened shortly after I was fired from my sex-line phone-chat job.
I'm not going to say I was good at it, or even that I liked it. But,
loosing that job put me into a state of unease over my liquidity.
Since I didn't have any prospects, and there are only four things I
hate more than daytime teevee, (tuna, cockroaches, acid burns, and phone
companies, ohh, and clowns. Okay - five things...maybe more - never
really thought about it until now.)
Anyways, for fun I would go down to the more seedy districts of the
metropolis - and meander around the bums and muggers, and con-men.
This gave me a marginal thrill, since I knew even if I got rolled or taken,
I really had so little to loose that it would be far cheaper than going
to a movie.
So around there one afternoon, I bumped into her coming out of one of
those falling down hotels that might have been nice back in the day.
She had the look in her face like she wasn't in a hurry to get
to her destination, and I wasn't going anywhere - so we started
talking.
After a walking who knows where, talking about crazy shit like black
holes, urban renewal, micro-climates, and good war movies, we ended up
back at her hotel room with a cheap bottle of wine, or whisky or
something that tasted awful, peeled skin off the inside of your
stomach, and did a number on your brain-pan. That was the beginning of what
became a bi-weekly ritual. It wasn't like it was an amorous thing, it
was just that she was nice to me, and I like it when people are nice to
me. Plus, there was that whole daytime teevee thing.
About two weeks down the line another fellow started showing up at her
place, with the name of Rex Bowen. I don't know if she knew him from before, or if she met him after me, but it was her place, and she could invite in whoever she wanted. But Rex couldn't talk in a conversation if his life depended on it.
Rex wasn't all that bad of a guy, but he had annoying streaks. Like he'd come in all strung out on meth, and then drink some of our drink and start singing show-tunes, or worse, lousy renditions of Deep Purple and Motorhead. I didn't think much of it, cause she kept on opening the door for him when he came around, I just got ready to cringe whenever he came by.
Anyways this one time he comes in - lit up like an electrical storm - and grabs the bottle, slams down a good fourth of it, and then begins singing this ridiculous made-up tune that went something like this.
Motion picture
Mo-tion Pic-ture
I wanna be in a motion picture...
motion
picture...
motion
picture
I wanna be in a motion picture...
Well, from out of nowhere this girl shouts out at the top of her lungs - and I mean a real scream,
"REX YOU RETARDED DOOF! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Only Rex was waaay too into his song to care. I mean, he was feeling the groove. Swaying around the room with a bottle in one hand, and his other clenched around an air microphone.
Mo-tion Pic-ture
Mo-tion Pic-ture
I wanna be in a motion picture...lalalala
So she came up from his side, and from out of nowhere, latched a handcuff around the wrist that had the bottle. And with shocking strength, pulled him straight to the iron bedframe - at least 10 feet away, and locked the other bracelet around a big pole. The big doof barely even noticed. He just kept on singing his damn stupid song.
I wanna be in a motion picture.
"Rex," she said loudly and clearly. "If you don't shut up right now, I'm going to pull off your legs." He really didn't hear her. Or else, he really didn't believe her. That was, in my opinion, his mistake.
She got up, and went into a closet. She dragged out a large, and very heavy cardboard box. In the middle of the room, she opened it, and pulled out a big winch - like the kind you see on the front of heavy Army trucks. She carried it into the bathroom, which was sort of kitty-corner from the bed. There were some clanking noises that came from in there. Then she came out with a cable, and wrapped it around Rex's legs. Rex was still lost in song.
Mo-tion pic-ture, mo-tion, picture, motion picture, I wanna be in a...
"I'll show you a fucking motion picture." She said, walked into the bathroom, and the next thing I knew there was the sound of mechanical grating, and the cable got tighter. Rex stopped singing, and started screaming. I watched as his pants got tighter around his legs,
and his body began to straighten out - pulled from the one arm handcuffed to the
bed rail, and his legs wrapped around a winch cable. I decided it would be best if I didn't watch the rest.
When I opened my eyes, the bed was across the room, Rex was pouring blood from two stumps where his legs used to be, and she was covered in blood from head to toe. She said,
"How's that for a goddamn motion picture."
I paused for a second, and spoke,
"I think we're going to need more booze. I'll go get some. Start figuring out how to clean this shit up." I stood up and headed for the door.
"Yeah," She said, "that sounds like a good idea. I sure can't go out for anything!" She cackled madly as I walked out.
I walked away from the scene, never intending to buy her, or us anything ever again. She was a nice girl. She didn't seem like the kind of girl who would rip the legs off of a cricket. God, did I just think "cricket?" I must not be in the right frame of mind after just going through all that. She didn't seem like the kind of girl who would rip the legs off of a man. But then again, how well do you know anyone?
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
In Regards To The Tuesday Blimp Post Comments...
Which I notice, not many have decided to participate in. There was an educational bit from our pal Rhino, that went something along the lines of this...
Re roos, I think they can claw people and kick people but they are quite docile.
eg. Driving down a ountry road at night there was 15-20 of them lounging about. So they see the car, tey don't even move, you can virtually run over their tales before they shift, like cows I guess.
As a further learning aid, I would like you to watch this mere 15 second yoo-tube clip, Re: Cows.
Re roos, I think they can claw people and kick people but they are quite docile.
eg. Driving down a ountry road at night there was 15-20 of them lounging about. So they see the car, tey don't even move, you can virtually run over their tales before they shift, like cows I guess.
As a further learning aid, I would like you to watch this mere 15 second yoo-tube clip, Re: Cows.
It's Official, God Loves Aliens More Than Humans!
FROM THE VATICAN!
Seriously...sometimes people say funny things. This particular person happens to be Father Funes, director of the Vatican Observatory - and this is his line...
"Just as there are multiple forms of life on earth, so there could exist intelligent beings in outer space created by God. And some aliens could even be free from original sin, he speculates."
Yes...because Gjod has a beef with the HUMANS! Mebee it was cause we ate his sacred fruits, and later turned them into a successful cash crop. Whatever the reason, it doesn't seem fair to me, when some extraterrestrial being (probably with a fetish for invasive probing (wait, ain't that a sin too? Dang this gets complicated)) gets off scott-free.
Well, I guess I shouldn't really take this news item to the next level like this, especially when there's a news item like this that's gotten practically no coverage at all in the national/world media.
Seriously...sometimes people say funny things. This particular person happens to be Father Funes, director of the Vatican Observatory - and this is his line...
"Just as there are multiple forms of life on earth, so there could exist intelligent beings in outer space created by God. And some aliens could even be free from original sin, he speculates."
Yes...because Gjod has a beef with the HUMANS! Mebee it was cause we ate his sacred fruits, and later turned them into a successful cash crop. Whatever the reason, it doesn't seem fair to me, when some extraterrestrial being (probably with a fetish for invasive probing (wait, ain't that a sin too? Dang this gets complicated)) gets off scott-free.
Well, I guess I shouldn't really take this news item to the next level like this, especially when there's a news item like this that's gotten practically no coverage at all in the national/world media.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
At the risk of angering the Volcano Gods again...
I do have to let you know...
Yesterday, I caught something out of the corner of my eye, outside my office window directy outside the Casa Aloha. Something unusual, and big was hanging in the sky. I looked out, and had to take a Gjoddang picture, because this shit is starting to get unbelieveable. Seriously. (clicking will embiggify to a horrifying extent!)
Seaplanes and Flying Boats
I dunno why, but I have quite a fascination with flying boats. In fact, my home is mostly decorated with vintage travel posters for the Pan Am Flying Clippers from the 30's...like this one.
Anyhoo, while casting around to find some daytrip destinations around my fair burg, I discovered there was a seaplane base out in Long Beach, which led me to this super great site for amphibious planes that went from L.A. to Catalina Island (which is...I dunno 15 or 20 miles off the Southern California coast) back in the day. Some really neat stuff over there if you like the old-timey glamour of air travel.
Anyhoo, while casting around to find some daytrip destinations around my fair burg, I discovered there was a seaplane base out in Long Beach, which led me to this super great site for amphibious planes that went from L.A. to Catalina Island (which is...I dunno 15 or 20 miles off the Southern California coast) back in the day. Some really neat stuff over there if you like the old-timey glamour of air travel.
Here's some extra shots of a Pan Am Clipper I found somwhere on the webmonster a while ago, and then forgot I had until just now.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Friday, May 09, 2008
Since I'm not positive that's the last thing I wanna leave you with
I'll just re-post this one that might have gotten lost in the multi-media extravaganza over the last week or two. It is super great.
Great Moments Are Far Between
"That is the real problem," Friday said, "There are too many moments."
"What?" Said Wednesday.
"Moments." Friday repeated, "There are too many of them."
"Well," Tuesday said, his head popping down from a concrete tunnel above them, that joined the larger storm-drain pipe where the weekdays were walking. "For an immortal weekday, that's sort of irrelevant." He swung himself down to land in a splash in the dirty water in front of the gathered weekdays. "Anyways," he continued, "Like we thought that tunnel just goes to a surface drain."
They continued walking - each had small headlamps which cast beams of light crazily about the tunnel. Occasional rats scurried out of their way. As they moved forward, the concrete tunnel joined a much older drain made of ancient moss covered brick.
Thursday noticed something. "Thank Gjod, a walkway. I'm glad the invitation suggested a change of shoes and socks!" He pulled himself up out of the shin-deep water, and was quickly followed by the others. There was a slightly amusing scene as five immortal weekdays took off their shoes, and socks, reached into packs and bags, and replaced them with fresh and dry footwear. Thursday had finished the act before the others, and picked up the original conversational thread. "I don't think the problem is too many moments. I'm pretty sure the problem is too many of those moments suck."
"Yeah." Said Tuesday, "And how long exactly is a moment?"
"No more than a half-hour." Said Wednesday.
"Half-hour!" Exclaimed Friday, putting the finishing touches on the bow of the laces on a stylish pair of Stacy Adams shoes.
"What? " Said Wednesday with some force, "That's the most common smallest time increment. Are you really saying people measure time in quarter-hours?"
"No." Friday said, standing up. "But moments are faster than time can measure."
"Or slower." Monday added.
"Or slower." Friday agreed.
"Pearl Harbor happened in a moment...I'd guess it was longer than 15 minutes." Thursday stated.
"Probly seemed a lot longer than that for the guys getting bombed and torpedoed."
"And the 9-11 attacks on the trade towers..." Quipped Tuesday, "Pretty fast. But was that a moment? I guess it probably was."
"Titanic sank in a moment..." Stated Monday.
"200,000 people died in the '05 Tsunami...in just a moment."
Wednesday began moving down the walkway, tired of the banter. "Come on, we've still got to get to find this party, and it could be miles from here."
"Not according to the flyer." Tuesday said hopefully, playing his headlamp onto a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. He read the text outloud. "Seven hundred meters from the drain opening at the river...it says."
They all began following.
Friday spoke. "See that's what I'm talking about."
"What? That we've travelled four hundred meters down a dirty stormdrain pipe in just moments?" Snapped Monday.
"No, all those moments you just brought up are bad moments!" The tunnel echoed with his voice and their footsteps as they continued their journey. "But what about all the good times? Those just lasted moments too - but nobody brings up the time we jumped the Pacific Ocean in rocket cars, wiped out a bunch of evil time controlling scientists, or met a talking rhinoceros in a bar!"
"Hang on." Said Wednesday in front of them. "There's a junction up here!"
The Weekdays all crowded around the end of the tunnel, which ended sharply at a huge chamber, where a number of huge tunnels converged, dumping trickles of water high above a massive pool of water twelve feet below. From across the room, on the water, a zodiac motored towards them, disturbing the water with crazy wakes, that sent a kaleidoscope of reflections across the chamber roof from their headlights. In a moment the zodiac was underneath them, and a man at the motor called up.
"Are you here for the party?"
"No." Spat Monday, "We just decided we'd walk down a stinky storm drain for fun and..."
He was cut off by Thursday.
"Yeah we are! Couldn't miss the Subterranean Catacomb Fiesta!"
"Okay then. Follow those steps down to water level - and I'll get you there." He pointed to a staircase carved into the wall, that disappeared into the water. They all began descending as the man moved his boat closer."
"I'm not knocking moments..." Friday said, finishing his thought before they got to the bottom step, "I'm just knocking the fact that the bad ones always seem so memorable."
Thursday stopped with a moment of realization. "And why are there so few...really good moments?!"
"Huh." Said Wednesday, getting into the boat. "It's almost like they hardly happen at all."
"That's what I'm saying," Said Friday, waiting for the rest to get into the boat. "Unless you're ready to live, expecting bad things to happen, you're going to be disappointed...a lot. That's pretty fjucked up."
"But..." Said Tuesday, sitting in the boat, "If you're always looking for a bad moment to happen, might that imply you're overlooking anything that happens that's good?"
"Yes." Said Friday, stepping onto the zodiac. "That's why I say there are too many moments. I choose to look for the good ones, and am constantly disappointed."
"You won't be disappointed." Said the man at the outboard engine of the zodiac. He turned the boat away from the brick wall, and sped across the chamber. He shouted more to be heard over the motor. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you'll find tonight...a moment to remember.
Happy Friday
"What?" Said Wednesday.
"Moments." Friday repeated, "There are too many of them."
"Well," Tuesday said, his head popping down from a concrete tunnel above them, that joined the larger storm-drain pipe where the weekdays were walking. "For an immortal weekday, that's sort of irrelevant." He swung himself down to land in a splash in the dirty water in front of the gathered weekdays. "Anyways," he continued, "Like we thought that tunnel just goes to a surface drain."
They continued walking - each had small headlamps which cast beams of light crazily about the tunnel. Occasional rats scurried out of their way. As they moved forward, the concrete tunnel joined a much older drain made of ancient moss covered brick.
Thursday noticed something. "Thank Gjod, a walkway. I'm glad the invitation suggested a change of shoes and socks!" He pulled himself up out of the shin-deep water, and was quickly followed by the others. There was a slightly amusing scene as five immortal weekdays took off their shoes, and socks, reached into packs and bags, and replaced them with fresh and dry footwear. Thursday had finished the act before the others, and picked up the original conversational thread. "I don't think the problem is too many moments. I'm pretty sure the problem is too many of those moments suck."
"Yeah." Said Tuesday, "And how long exactly is a moment?"
"No more than a half-hour." Said Wednesday.
"Half-hour!" Exclaimed Friday, putting the finishing touches on the bow of the laces on a stylish pair of Stacy Adams shoes.
"What? " Said Wednesday with some force, "That's the most common smallest time increment. Are you really saying people measure time in quarter-hours?"
"No." Friday said, standing up. "But moments are faster than time can measure."
"Or slower." Monday added.
"Or slower." Friday agreed.
"Pearl Harbor happened in a moment...I'd guess it was longer than 15 minutes." Thursday stated.
"Probly seemed a lot longer than that for the guys getting bombed and torpedoed."
"And the 9-11 attacks on the trade towers..." Quipped Tuesday, "Pretty fast. But was that a moment? I guess it probably was."
"Titanic sank in a moment..." Stated Monday.
"200,000 people died in the '05 Tsunami...in just a moment."
Wednesday began moving down the walkway, tired of the banter. "Come on, we've still got to get to find this party, and it could be miles from here."
"Not according to the flyer." Tuesday said hopefully, playing his headlamp onto a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. He read the text outloud. "Seven hundred meters from the drain opening at the river...it says."
They all began following.
Friday spoke. "See that's what I'm talking about."
"What? That we've travelled four hundred meters down a dirty stormdrain pipe in just moments?" Snapped Monday.
"No, all those moments you just brought up are bad moments!" The tunnel echoed with his voice and their footsteps as they continued their journey. "But what about all the good times? Those just lasted moments too - but nobody brings up the time we jumped the Pacific Ocean in rocket cars, wiped out a bunch of evil time controlling scientists, or met a talking rhinoceros in a bar!"
"Hang on." Said Wednesday in front of them. "There's a junction up here!"
The Weekdays all crowded around the end of the tunnel, which ended sharply at a huge chamber, where a number of huge tunnels converged, dumping trickles of water high above a massive pool of water twelve feet below. From across the room, on the water, a zodiac motored towards them, disturbing the water with crazy wakes, that sent a kaleidoscope of reflections across the chamber roof from their headlights. In a moment the zodiac was underneath them, and a man at the motor called up.
"Are you here for the party?"
"No." Spat Monday, "We just decided we'd walk down a stinky storm drain for fun and..."
He was cut off by Thursday.
"Yeah we are! Couldn't miss the Subterranean Catacomb Fiesta!"
"Okay then. Follow those steps down to water level - and I'll get you there." He pointed to a staircase carved into the wall, that disappeared into the water. They all began descending as the man moved his boat closer."
"I'm not knocking moments..." Friday said, finishing his thought before they got to the bottom step, "I'm just knocking the fact that the bad ones always seem so memorable."
Thursday stopped with a moment of realization. "And why are there so few...really good moments?!"
"Huh." Said Wednesday, getting into the boat. "It's almost like they hardly happen at all."
"That's what I'm saying," Said Friday, waiting for the rest to get into the boat. "Unless you're ready to live, expecting bad things to happen, you're going to be disappointed...a lot. That's pretty fjucked up."
"But..." Said Tuesday, sitting in the boat, "If you're always looking for a bad moment to happen, might that imply you're overlooking anything that happens that's good?"
"Yes." Said Friday, stepping onto the zodiac. "That's why I say there are too many moments. I choose to look for the good ones, and am constantly disappointed."
"You won't be disappointed." Said the man at the outboard engine of the zodiac. He turned the boat away from the brick wall, and sped across the chamber. He shouted more to be heard over the motor. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you'll find tonight...a moment to remember.
Happy Friday
deet deet...deet deet deet...Fjordnews...deet deet...
Ohmygodomygod...OH MY GJOD!
It's what I've suspected all along!
Great tits cope well with warming
(The author remains firmly behind the headline...the story...not so much)
It's what I've suspected all along!
Great tits cope well with warming
(The author remains firmly behind the headline...the story...not so much)
A Unique Response
To finding yourself on the wrong end of government authorities, proven innocent, yet still on their watchlist because it's impossible to get off.
Here's a brief clip from the Colbert Report, which, while funny, actually gives the deets.
There's something just too strange about this...yet, there's something super great about it too. Like, along the lines of "Fjuck you authority...here's where I've been THE WHOLE TIME"
You can gaze in wonder where Hasan Elahi is, and was, and at the powers of self surveillance at his site right here. It does sort of fulfill yer standard blogger's wet dream of making their whole live viewable for judgement from their commenters...but the sad thing is, it's kinda' really fjucking serious. I'd prefer to have this kind of information available for me to look at, in regards to my elected representatives. After all, they're supposed to be working for me.
Here's a brief clip from the Colbert Report, which, while funny, actually gives the deets.
There's something just too strange about this...yet, there's something super great about it too. Like, along the lines of "Fjuck you authority...here's where I've been THE WHOLE TIME"
You can gaze in wonder where Hasan Elahi is, and was, and at the powers of self surveillance at his site right here. It does sort of fulfill yer standard blogger's wet dream of making their whole live viewable for judgement from their commenters...but the sad thing is, it's kinda' really fjucking serious. I'd prefer to have this kind of information available for me to look at, in regards to my elected representatives. After all, they're supposed to be working for me.
Blogger Complaints
I have very few complaints when it comes to the blogger publishing system. They made some up-grades over the last couple of years which has really made it a solid system. I used to loose a post or two every couple of weeks. Now...it never happens. That's pretty good. However, after the last couple of picture-heavy posts, that is the one thing that I still have a gripe about.
Formatting where your pictures will go on the page, and how text will appear next to-or around said photos, is still amazingly cumbersome, and almost never publishes in the way you expect. That being said, it's possible to work around these layout shortcomings, but it would be nice if someone somewhere did a little work to improve this problem, that appears more often than you'd suspect.
Okey, back to your regularly scheduled Fjordcast...
Formatting where your pictures will go on the page, and how text will appear next to-or around said photos, is still amazingly cumbersome, and almost never publishes in the way you expect. That being said, it's possible to work around these layout shortcomings, but it would be nice if someone somewhere did a little work to improve this problem, that appears more often than you'd suspect.
Okey, back to your regularly scheduled Fjordcast...
Why...OH WHY DID I GIVE INTO THE MADNESS?!??
What with all the blimp madness, I appear to have angered the VOLCANO GODS! Crap crap crap. What do I have to do to appease thee!?!?
There's a nice gallery with more over here.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Just Giving Into The Blimp Madness
Some Coyote News
This really isn't very high on the "wow that's crazy" meter, but I needed to post this quote.
"People cannot be ambivalent about coyotes," said Harry Morse, spokesman for the California Department of Fish and Game. "When that coyote starts toward you, it's not coming to be nice."
Good advice people...remember it for later.
"People cannot be ambivalent about coyotes," said Harry Morse, spokesman for the California Department of Fish and Game. "When that coyote starts toward you, it's not coming to be nice."
Good advice people...remember it for later.
More Blimps??!!?? What the #*%@?
So in perusing the local Craigslist for potential new moneymaking endevors, I came across this. Since this is bound to evaporate into the webmonster after too long, here's the text for future generations.
Feel free to skim...it's only amazing with the bizarre blimp mojo I'm dealing with at the moment.
Airship Pilot (Los Angeles, CA (Gardena, CA))
Be a part of the famous Goodyear tradition.
Are you an aviator who is passionate about flying? Are you an excellent communicator who is comfortable speaking to groups of people and the media? Do you have the outstanding management skills required to oversee the airship team? If this sounds like you, this could be your chance to pilot one of the world's most recognized symbols, the Spirit of America! This is a rare and exciting opportunity for a dedicated aviator to experience the control and handling of an aircraft as unique as the Goodyear blimp. Not only that, you will have the opportunity to earn your “Lighter-Than-Air Certification” as a Goodyear Blimp Pilot! Even if you already have it, you've got to admit that the chance to pilot one of the world's most recognized icons is just too great to pass up.
The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company is as famous for our blimps as we are for our tires and other automotive products… if not more so. We launched our first airship, the Pilgrim, in 1925 and now all three Goodyear icons - the Spirit of Goodyear, the Spirit of America and the Spirit of Innovation - fly year-round throughout the US. There's a certain magic that goes along with the challenge of being professionally involved with a Goodyear airship. You can discover that feeling yourself when you join us at our Los Angeles, California-area blimp airfield as a Pilot.
As a Goodyear Blimp Pilot, you will operate an assigned airship safely, effectively and efficiently to assure optimum utilization of that aircraft for favorable exposure of the Goodyear name. In concert with the Pilot-in-Charge, the Pilot accomplishes public relations assignments by planning, organizing, directing, operating, maintaining and administering a specific airship operation which includes airship, personnel and ground support equipment. The pilot also acts as the Goodyear Blimp Spokesperson, speaking to the public and the media, fielding questions and ensuring that the Goodyear reputation for excellence and professionalism is never compromised. As the sole pilot aboard, the Pilot commands and is responsible for the aircraft and functional operation during take-off, flight and landing. Assists and assumes command in the absence of the Pilot-in-Charge in the supervision of operations personnel in order to fulfill operations' missions in compliance with FAA regulations and company policy.
Activities requiring outside contact include conferring with vendors, news media, airport management, motel managers (travel and tour arrangements) and the public, customers and potential customers. The Pilot assists in forward planning of airship mission requirements with respect to travel accommodations (airports and motels) and movement of the airship and ground support service vehicles and airship personnel. Additionally, the pilot assists the Pilot-in-Charge in ensuring compliance with all company standard practices and policies.
While flying the airship, the Pilot will obtain maximum exposure of the company name by achieving optimum flight time of the airship through pilot and crew efforts. Note: Optimum flight time to meet public relations requirements within the safety and operations parameters of airship design.
The pilot assists in reviewing, evaluating and controlling airship operations functions in order to maintain and operate an efficient, safe and professionally staffed flying operation.
Traveling up to 180 days per year with consecutive extended periods, the Airship Pilot guides the Goodyear Blimp to a variety of venues throughout the United States that can include NFL, NBA, MLB, college football and NASCAR events, as well as the Academy Awards.
Requirements include:
Current Commercial Pilot with instrument rating (airplane or helicopter rating) with minimum 500 hours
Minimum of a high school diploma or equivalent
Minimum second-class medical certificate
Willingness to travel for extended periods of time
Preferred, but not required:
Commercial Lighter-Than-Air Airship rating
A & P certification
Certified Flight Instructor
FCC license
CDL
College degree
Goodyear, with marketing operations in nearly every country around the world, offers a highly competitive compensation package commensurate with education and experience, as well as the opportunity to work with an industry leader. Please note that this position does not offer relocation assistance.
If you meet the above criteria and are interested in working in a rewarding, yet challenging environment, please apply online at https://goodyear.recruitmax.com/eng/candidates/, select the “search” button under the Job Search section to view the Pilot position.
Man - whadda job! If I only stuck with my original plan, and got my Commercial lighter-than-air Airship rating. Oh well, maybe next time.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Does anybody know who now controlls Max Headroom?
Because I'd love to see him pop back. I really would.
Hell - I'd love to write the words coming out of his mouth!
Hell - I'd love to write the words coming out of his mouth!
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
The last post was done on a whim...seriously
Monday, May 05, 2008
How about some blimp action?
Sure, why not.
Here's something old...
And something new.
And then there's this...
Here's something old...
And something new.
And then there's this...
May 5th? No! Cinco de Mayo!
We get a lot of the Latino vibe here in Los-Angeleeze, and I for one, welcome any holidaze that make any excuse for drinking mexican beer. (or any kind of beer, actually) But, this was the first time I actually looked up what happened May 5th in Mexico. Here's a brief rundown, and over here's a little different take from the online encyclopedia.
Anyhoo getting back to Mexican beer...I prefer Sol to the other usual suspects. Why? Because magical things like this happen!
However, that being said, I don't mind supporting the Corona people, even tho their stuff isn't as good. Just because I like seeing things like the following on my teevee, Corona commercials stand out because they are so amazingly calm and quiet. The difference It always reminds me how desperate the television people are to keep your attention. Advertising like this works much better for me.
As well, their products are pretty cool. If any of you have a cool $500 and wanna get me a Cinco de Mayo gift. This would be sweeeeeet.
Anyhoo getting back to Mexican beer...I prefer Sol to the other usual suspects. Why? Because magical things like this happen!
However, that being said, I don't mind supporting the Corona people, even tho their stuff isn't as good. Just because I like seeing things like the following on my teevee, Corona commercials stand out because they are so amazingly calm and quiet. The difference It always reminds me how desperate the television people are to keep your attention. Advertising like this works much better for me.
As well, their products are pretty cool. If any of you have a cool $500 and wanna get me a Cinco de Mayo gift. This would be sweeeeeet.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Ahhh, Pirates...
How many times has your news saved me from actually writing a new post? It's not as good as this one, which was from last month...but is a lot more interesting, plus it also has smugglers!
***Update***
Here's an amazing map of pirate activity off of the coast of Somalia! There's a ton of information on here - it's worth the PDF download...promise.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Mr Pigglesworth and Mr Gimpson VS The Evil-Eye!
"I say Gimpson," asked Mr. Pigglesworth, "do you place any weight to the notion of the evil eye?"
Mr Gimpson put down his newspaper, and shifted his slippered feet on the ottoman, looking at his friend. "You mean those with a power over dark forces, with which they might becurse a man who crosses their path with an unsavory look?"
"The very same."
"I don't give any weight to it whatsoever. Why do you ask Pigglesworth?"
Mr Pigglesworth walked to the fireplace, which now held only glowing embers, placed a new log upon the grate, and used a poker to summon a small tongue of flame licking over the new wood. "You remember my pocketwatch had recently stopped?"
"Of course, you complained about it last weekend." Gimpson frowned, "Since you hadn't mentioned it, I had assumed you had taken care of it."
"Well, after mentioning it, I felt I shouldn't bring it up again. However, earlier today I went to the watch repair shop, to have it seen to."
"What was the problem?" Gimpson asked.
"A gear had broken a tooth, which had become lodged in another, preventing it from moving. It took all of five minutes to fix." Pigglesworth watched the fire, which was now happily cracking, and moved to sit upon the sitting chair opposite Gimpson.
"Well that's a relief." said Gimpson.
"Yes. However, outside the watch repair shop, I was accosted by five Gypsy urchins who wanted money."
"Not an uncommon occurrence for a dweller of a metropolis."
"Of course." Said Pigglesworth. He squirmed in his chair for a moment, then rose to fix himself a drink. He looked over at Gimpson as he poured scotch from a crystal decanter, "But as I was pushing my way through the rabble, and knocking their hands away from my pockets and other valuable items, an old Gypsy hag emerged suddenly from around the building, and in my haste, I stepped on her foot!"
"I say!" Exclaimed Gimpson.
"Quite." Said Pigglesworth as he took a sip of his drink. "So the woman says, "'Ere Govn'a, shouldn'a treat my youngins as tha they was the plauge! Alls they wanna is a Shillin'." Well, I responded by begging her pardon for stepping on her foot, but stated that I wasn't about to give anyone my money, especially after being molested in such an uncouth manor."
"Then what happend!?" Gimpson asked excitedly.
Mr. Pigglesworth continued his tale. ""Uncouth!" She spit at me, which she really did, as she had no upper teeth, "I'll show ye uncouth! 'Ave a gaze 'ere at my evil-eye!" at which she gave me the most foul look I have ever seen on a human's face."
"My word old chap," said Gimpson, "has anything unfortunate befallen you since then?"
Pigglesworth Moved back to his chair, settled down more comfortably than the first time. "Well, I was nearly run over by a dogcart near Trafalgar, a load of roofing slate fell from the top of Lloyds and crashed practically at my feet, and as I went to the shed for more firewood, I discovered a nest of possums, three of which made for my ankles! Luckily I wasn't wearing loafers."
"It does seem as if you've had your share of near things today. Do you give weight to this Gypsy woman's evil-eye?"
"Against my better judgement, I would guess there may be something to it." Pigglesworth stood up, refilled his glass, and had another sip. He stood by the fire for a moment, then drew himself up and spoke in a more defiant tone. "Now Gimpson, you know I'm a rational man, I believe in science and technology, and won't be drawn into believing in curses! But I daresay I see the old hag's look each time I blink. It's unnerving."
"Pixies!" Gimpson said.
"Pixies?" Pigglesworth looked over confused.
"Pixies. Gimpson stated as if he was done speaking about it.
"Gimpson," asked Pigglesworth, "what do you mean, Pixies?"
"You remember when I used to rent rooms out of the old Holdenhurst Mannor?"
"Of course, they were quite stately...gave you quite a respectable front I might add."
"Yes. But did I ever tell you why I left those stately rooms to take up diggings with you?" Gimpson asked knowingly.
"No."
"Old Holdenhurst Mannor was haunted will all manner of spooks. There was one horrifying apparition which frequented my rooms, which appeared in spectral form with a bloody stump for a neck, and carried it's head under an arm. The head would then hurl a huge vocabulary of insults at me, and then laugh madly."
"My god Gimpson, how often did this happen!?"
"Nightly!"
"You lived there for nearly two years! How did you maintain your sanity!?"
"Pigglesworth, it is why I mentioned Pixies. Whenever I saw things which I think should shake me, I knew that they were impotent in the material plane. However, they did scare me. But that's when I remembered the Pixies, small mischievous fairy creatures which mean no good to mortal man, but really capable of only small tricks. Each time I was faced with such things, I would just think to myself, it's only Pixies playing tricks. And that's how I mastered that! You should try it for yourself."
"You're saying, this old Gypsy hag who gave me the evil-eye was nothing more than a trick played on me by three-inch fairy creatures?"
"Yes! If you're believing in Gypsy curses, you may as well believe in Pixies. And if you believe that, I'd say a Pixie trick is a lot easier to deal with than a Gypsy curse."
Pigglesworth looked at his friend, pondered for a few moments, and without thinking drained the rest of his glass. It appeared that he had made up his mind, because he smiled slightly.
"Pixies!" He laughed, "Who would have thought I'd run into Pixies in the middle of London, right outside the watch repair shop! Gimpson, you've made me much happier. I am in your debt for your take on this affair."
"Not at all, my good man, not at all. Now then, either we spend the rest of the night making some manner of Pixie trap, or we could go to the billiard hall, and see if we can overcome Pixie mischief with the logical physics of solid balls being struck with a stout cue!"
"Capital idea Gimpson. I'll fetch my cloak."
Happy Friday
***Update! Incase you haven't seen the previous adventures of Mr. Pigglesworth and Mr. Gimpson, you can find them directly below!***
Episode One
Episode Two
Episode Three
Episode Four
Episode Five
Hoooo Boy, Whadda Week!
There might be hundreds, nay thousands of words I could use to describe this horrific beast, but I won't. (crap, there's two)
All I will say with true emotion is I FOUND MY HAT!
That's so awesome.
All I will say with true emotion is I FOUND MY HAT!
That's so awesome.
I suppose you're wondering why I haven't
Done anything on the Giant Squid dissection. Well, it's cause it's super boring. There's nothing there at all. Here's a link with video. It will put you to sleep. There's nothing there but a giant lifeless blob that barely looks like a squid, and that's why I don't care. Maybe it's ennui setting in, or maybe, like from my last post, I'm just getting tired of the novelty of the internet...but the internet is boring me to death. Maybe it's just time Pigglesworth and Gimpson had another adventure.
Anyhoo...over here are some awesomely beautiful photos of shipwrecks.
Anyhoo...over here are some awesomely beautiful photos of shipwrecks.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
I have this little quote
From Warren Ellis - from some interview he did a little while ago. I printed it out, and cut the paper so I could have it lying around making clutter in the vast kitchens of the Casa Aloha Resort and Spa. (soon to be casino - but I have some legal hoops to jump thru to prove I'm part Native American - but that's another, and hopefully massively profitable, story. Anyhoo - the part of the quote I like best is the last bit, which goes like this.
"The motor of innovation and novelty is really kind of cranked up right now, but, in contrast, the general culture is still in a sort of post-millennial shock, just laying there and drooling over its nipples."
There's something really important in there...I can feel it. I can sense it. He's right, but, I just can't quite get my head around what it is, or what it means.
According to the free online encyclopedia "...culture is generally refers to patterns of human activity and the symbolic structures that give such activities significance and importance."
Well, that's rather vague...but maybe that's the point. Trying to reimagine, reinvent, or just create new symbolic structures that give meaning to patterns of human activity ain't like doing yer laundry. It's (seems to me) about creating something (art, relationships, organizations, I dunno...add yers here) that is not only understandable to a vast majority of the population, but is powerful enough to fundamentally alter the meaning of how people relate to the world around them.
Yeah, well, that's a stab at it. I'm not saying that's correct, nor am I saying if it is correct, that I have any idea of how to make something that powerful, much less make something that powerful, that would actually work. I just wanted to shoot this into the webmonster, for consideration.
"The motor of innovation and novelty is really kind of cranked up right now, but, in contrast, the general culture is still in a sort of post-millennial shock, just laying there and drooling over its nipples."
There's something really important in there...I can feel it. I can sense it. He's right, but, I just can't quite get my head around what it is, or what it means.
According to the free online encyclopedia "...culture is generally refers to patterns of human activity and the symbolic structures that give such activities significance and importance."
Well, that's rather vague...but maybe that's the point. Trying to reimagine, reinvent, or just create new symbolic structures that give meaning to patterns of human activity ain't like doing yer laundry. It's (seems to me) about creating something (art, relationships, organizations, I dunno...add yers here) that is not only understandable to a vast majority of the population, but is powerful enough to fundamentally alter the meaning of how people relate to the world around them.
Yeah, well, that's a stab at it. I'm not saying that's correct, nor am I saying if it is correct, that I have any idea of how to make something that powerful, much less make something that powerful, that would actually work. I just wanted to shoot this into the webmonster, for consideration.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
