"Take this down. My name is Shaquille O'Neal and Paul Pierce is the motherfucking truth. Quote me on that and don't take nothing out. I knew he could play, but I didn't know he could play like this. Paul Pierce is the truth."
Shaquile O'Neal, 2001
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
ATTENTION IDIOTS
I have dropped my conservative agenda. I now support senseless civil disobedience of any kind.
That is all.
That is all.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Fear of a Dead Planet
So, here's a new one on me. It seems that Kansas has popped its ugly anti-science head up again. There's a twist of course. Knowing that environmentalists care about the planet, Kansas is now offering the alternative class "Intelligent Planet".
Ut.
Oh.
What do we do? If we tell them not to teach it, they might just as well say fine, but we have to give up saving it, due to its lack of intelligence. They're tying this in with abortion as well. They arguement goes, if we can kill unborn babies, why can't we kill the planet? We have freedom of choice, right?
Even worse is how they claim there's NO homosexual behavior in the animal kingdom. If we aree, then they've got some ground laid down to upend any attempt at gay marriage. If we disagree, they tell us not to act like butt humping dogs.
They're also starting a worldwide religitainment network. Of the scheduled line up, one of the most disturbing is called "God Made the Atom; God Split the Atom: The Story of God's Wrath and Mercy Through Nuclear Fission".
They have also banned every book from the classroms, even the Bible. If we support this, we look like a bunch of book burning Neanderthals. If we oppose it, they plan on returning all the books, incliding the bible back into classrooms.
Spread the word. Post this on your blog. Email it to friend. We must stop Kansas before they get out of control.
Ut.
Oh.
What do we do? If we tell them not to teach it, they might just as well say fine, but we have to give up saving it, due to its lack of intelligence. They're tying this in with abortion as well. They arguement goes, if we can kill unborn babies, why can't we kill the planet? We have freedom of choice, right?
Even worse is how they claim there's NO homosexual behavior in the animal kingdom. If we aree, then they've got some ground laid down to upend any attempt at gay marriage. If we disagree, they tell us not to act like butt humping dogs.
They're also starting a worldwide religitainment network. Of the scheduled line up, one of the most disturbing is called "God Made the Atom; God Split the Atom: The Story of God's Wrath and Mercy Through Nuclear Fission".
They have also banned every book from the classroms, even the Bible. If we support this, we look like a bunch of book burning Neanderthals. If we oppose it, they plan on returning all the books, incliding the bible back into classrooms.
Spread the word. Post this on your blog. Email it to friend. We must stop Kansas before they get out of control.
Friday, May 9, 2008
A Children's Book
Shoe Bear
by Dr. Robert J. Murk
Once, in the land of Magical Surprises, there lived a happy village of people called the Choos. They were so happy because all of them had the bestest, comfortablest shoes in the Multiverse.
One day, a giant hairy stranger Named Shoe Bear came to town. He was from a parallel membrane that had bumped into the Brane of Bliss in which the Land of Magical Surprise existed.
The Choos welcomed this stranger from the Shadowverse (as they called Brane 31xKp, where Shoe Bear came from). They sang him such a merry song of derring do that he collapsed in tears.
"Ohhhhwah," he said in his Louis Armstong crooning bear voice, "Thank you. Thank you. I been so sad livin in my ole Brane 31xKp. I sooooo glad you all sang me sucha luuuuvly song!"
"Hey," one Choo said, "What the hell is Tree Won Escapey?"
"No no," Shoe Bear said, "You got it all wrong! It's jus a bunch of numbahs and lettahs."
"Num Bars and Lettuce sounds delicious," another Choo said.
"What are you all," Shoe Bear asked, smiling, "A bunch a Meth Head? It's 3-1-s-K-p!"
"Oh," the Choos said, slapping each other in the groin, which was their customary sign of stupidity. Then, they sang another song for Shoe Bear.
Shoe Bear was so greatful he made them a promise.
"Now," he said, "I'm gone go away for a few days an seein' as you all like yo shoes so much, an me being a Shoe Bear an wutnot, I'm gone go like I says an make yous all a bunch o shoes like you never dun seen!"
There was a considerable reaction to this. The Choos punched themselves in the eye in their customary way of showing absolute joy!
And so the days passed.
A month later, a Choo was heard to ask aloud, "Say, where is that Shoe Bear fellow and all thos new shoes he promissed?"
"Maybe," another Choo suggested, "He was just some crazy dickhead."
But lo! Bounding over the hills at that moment came Shoe Bear! He had a bag of shoes.
"Oh my," he said as the Choos rushed out to greet him, "You show all got some tiny feet there." He pulled out a pair of shoes that was very small. He knocked one of the Choos to the ground and tugged his shoes off. "Let's jus fix you up propper," Shoe Bear said as he tried as hard as he could to get the tiny shoe on the tiny Choos' foot.
"AHHHHHHHH!!!!" the Choo screamed in pain, "AHHHHHHHH!!! SWEET MOTHER OF FREAKING HELL!!! STOP!!!!"
"Shut up, ya little bitch," Shoe Bear said, "Shoes gotta be tight at first to fit right."
"You're breaking his bones!" another Choo screamed. Pop, snap, crack went the bones in his foot, but soon enough, the shoes were on.
"Now, you better run away before I gets thirsty for your blood," Shoe Bear said, but it was too late. Shoe Bear had bit him hard in the neck and drank him warm and yummy.
The other Choos stood and watched in shock.
"Whoa," one said. "Those shoes don't fit very well at all!"
"Let's run away," one suggested. But Shoe Bear was too clever. He'd already started ramming shoes onto other Choos' feet. Crinkle, CRACK, crunch, went the bones. AHHHHHHH! went the Choo.
One by one, Shoe Bear broke their feet in tiny shoes and drank them warm and yummy. Then, he noticed all the Choos were dead and empty of blood. He gathered up all of their old shoes and put them in the bag he carried.
"These some damn fine shoes they got," he said. "Now, I just need to find a town wit some people with slightly bigger feet."
The End
by Dr. Robert J. Murk
Once, in the land of Magical Surprises, there lived a happy village of people called the Choos. They were so happy because all of them had the bestest, comfortablest shoes in the Multiverse.
One day, a giant hairy stranger Named Shoe Bear came to town. He was from a parallel membrane that had bumped into the Brane of Bliss in which the Land of Magical Surprise existed.
The Choos welcomed this stranger from the Shadowverse (as they called Brane 31xKp, where Shoe Bear came from). They sang him such a merry song of derring do that he collapsed in tears.
"Ohhhhwah," he said in his Louis Armstong crooning bear voice, "Thank you. Thank you. I been so sad livin in my ole Brane 31xKp. I sooooo glad you all sang me sucha luuuuvly song!"
"Hey," one Choo said, "What the hell is Tree Won Escapey?"
"No no," Shoe Bear said, "You got it all wrong! It's jus a bunch of numbahs and lettahs."
"Num Bars and Lettuce sounds delicious," another Choo said.
"What are you all," Shoe Bear asked, smiling, "A bunch a Meth Head? It's 3-1-s-K-p!"
"Oh," the Choos said, slapping each other in the groin, which was their customary sign of stupidity. Then, they sang another song for Shoe Bear.
Shoe Bear was so greatful he made them a promise.
"Now," he said, "I'm gone go away for a few days an seein' as you all like yo shoes so much, an me being a Shoe Bear an wutnot, I'm gone go like I says an make yous all a bunch o shoes like you never dun seen!"
There was a considerable reaction to this. The Choos punched themselves in the eye in their customary way of showing absolute joy!
And so the days passed.
A month later, a Choo was heard to ask aloud, "Say, where is that Shoe Bear fellow and all thos new shoes he promissed?"
"Maybe," another Choo suggested, "He was just some crazy dickhead."
But lo! Bounding over the hills at that moment came Shoe Bear! He had a bag of shoes.
"Oh my," he said as the Choos rushed out to greet him, "You show all got some tiny feet there." He pulled out a pair of shoes that was very small. He knocked one of the Choos to the ground and tugged his shoes off. "Let's jus fix you up propper," Shoe Bear said as he tried as hard as he could to get the tiny shoe on the tiny Choos' foot.
"AHHHHHHHH!!!!" the Choo screamed in pain, "AHHHHHHHH!!! SWEET MOTHER OF FREAKING HELL!!! STOP!!!!"
"Shut up, ya little bitch," Shoe Bear said, "Shoes gotta be tight at first to fit right."
"You're breaking his bones!" another Choo screamed. Pop, snap, crack went the bones in his foot, but soon enough, the shoes were on.
"Now, you better run away before I gets thirsty for your blood," Shoe Bear said, but it was too late. Shoe Bear had bit him hard in the neck and drank him warm and yummy.
The other Choos stood and watched in shock.
"Whoa," one said. "Those shoes don't fit very well at all!"
"Let's run away," one suggested. But Shoe Bear was too clever. He'd already started ramming shoes onto other Choos' feet. Crinkle, CRACK, crunch, went the bones. AHHHHHHH! went the Choo.
One by one, Shoe Bear broke their feet in tiny shoes and drank them warm and yummy. Then, he noticed all the Choos were dead and empty of blood. He gathered up all of their old shoes and put them in the bag he carried.
"These some damn fine shoes they got," he said. "Now, I just need to find a town wit some people with slightly bigger feet."
The End
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Fame and the Perils of the Intarweb
Murk. Is that my real name?
It's a loaded question. If I say yes, I'm a liar and can easily be detected. If I say no, then I'm hiding behind a mask, begging to be exposed.
So, let's end this potential Mexican Standoff before anyone fires a shot. No. Dr. Robert J. Murk is not my real name. It is an invention, a fiction. It is for entertainment only. Mainly my entertainment, but hey.
Why hide? Got something to hide Murk? Yup. I could cite hundreds of practical reasons, but let's say my real name was Bisby Rasputin Ticklesteen. No one would take me seriously. Even if I had a normal name like Fred Papers, we all know, no one likes Fred Papers. No one hates Fred Papers. Not true of Dr. Robert J. Murk. People love him and hate him. Some care less.
Here's my angle. If I wanted to post under my real name, I would. In fact, I do. Not here of course. This is a place of bad magic tricks and slander. It is a land of milk and Tylenol PM. It's offensive, stupid, ham handed hack drivel that I love writing.
Sure, unmasking Dr. Murk would shine a light on the madness of his creator, but honestly... truth is far less fun in this case. Here, it's a Murk Reality Zone, free of logic, scruples and morals.
I must admit, it's become tough not to be Murk in real life. Just ask Malach. I stupidly acted the Murk at a recent family gathering. I was in a Murk Moment and got caught throwing a Murk Tantrum. It never should have happened.
Is the name real? No, but the guy does exist here and in my mind and in the mind of others.
A famous magician once said that if you reveal the trick, it's no longer magic. It's just a trick. People love magic. They hate to be tricked. So, let's prolong the magic for a bit more until the global agenda of Third Option Media, Hill TV and Rubbersuit Studios is realized.
Be kind. People who drag others skeletons out of the closet eventually become bone collectors and nothing else. We can all admit it's a poor man's charade, this privacy of the Intarweb, but I am a poor man.
And to throw another dumb cliche out, I'm a shallow puddle. Don't try to dive in.
It's a loaded question. If I say yes, I'm a liar and can easily be detected. If I say no, then I'm hiding behind a mask, begging to be exposed.
So, let's end this potential Mexican Standoff before anyone fires a shot. No. Dr. Robert J. Murk is not my real name. It is an invention, a fiction. It is for entertainment only. Mainly my entertainment, but hey.
Why hide? Got something to hide Murk? Yup. I could cite hundreds of practical reasons, but let's say my real name was Bisby Rasputin Ticklesteen. No one would take me seriously. Even if I had a normal name like Fred Papers, we all know, no one likes Fred Papers. No one hates Fred Papers. Not true of Dr. Robert J. Murk. People love him and hate him. Some care less.
Here's my angle. If I wanted to post under my real name, I would. In fact, I do. Not here of course. This is a place of bad magic tricks and slander. It is a land of milk and Tylenol PM. It's offensive, stupid, ham handed hack drivel that I love writing.
Sure, unmasking Dr. Murk would shine a light on the madness of his creator, but honestly... truth is far less fun in this case. Here, it's a Murk Reality Zone, free of logic, scruples and morals.
I must admit, it's become tough not to be Murk in real life. Just ask Malach. I stupidly acted the Murk at a recent family gathering. I was in a Murk Moment and got caught throwing a Murk Tantrum. It never should have happened.
Is the name real? No, but the guy does exist here and in my mind and in the mind of others.
A famous magician once said that if you reveal the trick, it's no longer magic. It's just a trick. People love magic. They hate to be tricked. So, let's prolong the magic for a bit more until the global agenda of Third Option Media, Hill TV and Rubbersuit Studios is realized.
Be kind. People who drag others skeletons out of the closet eventually become bone collectors and nothing else. We can all admit it's a poor man's charade, this privacy of the Intarweb, but I am a poor man.
And to throw another dumb cliche out, I'm a shallow puddle. Don't try to dive in.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Life Immitates News
Sometimes you have one of those days where you wonder, what else could go wrong? Well, Hillary Clinton had one of those days yesterday. It's a long standing tradition to get Presidential Candidates to pick a winner for the Kentucky Derby.
With her campaign obviously failing, he rival gaining superdelegates despite being a black madman, Hillary Clinton decided to get cute. When asked which horse she picked to win, she made a funny. She picked the only girl horse (a 'fillet'), Eight Bells.
Eight Bells was put down (killed) on the track yesterday.
Clinton backed the wrong horse. It's weird because some superdelegates have said the same thing about backing her.
Not to beat a dead horse, but she's the only girl horse in the race and she'll have to be put down while still on the track.
When Senator Clinton heard the news, she was heard to sigh, "You're fucking kidding me. What else?"
The what else was that she burned the roast because she got caught up watching General Hospital reruns on Soap Network. No wonder no one wants her for President! Imagine if that roast was an important summit.
Her handlers have tried many times to get her to understand the idea of responsibility for her own good. You know what they say, you can lead a horse to water, but she'll probably just fall down and have to be shot because she's too dumb to stop trying to run.
Rest In Piece, Eight Bells. I look forward to seeing you soon at McDonald's for the premiere of the $8.88 Belle Burger with 100% fillet meat. Mmmmmm mmmmm. It' what?
With her campaign obviously failing, he rival gaining superdelegates despite being a black madman, Hillary Clinton decided to get cute. When asked which horse she picked to win, she made a funny. She picked the only girl horse (a 'fillet'), Eight Bells.
Eight Bells was put down (killed) on the track yesterday.
Clinton backed the wrong horse. It's weird because some superdelegates have said the same thing about backing her.
Not to beat a dead horse, but she's the only girl horse in the race and she'll have to be put down while still on the track.
When Senator Clinton heard the news, she was heard to sigh, "You're fucking kidding me. What else?"
The what else was that she burned the roast because she got caught up watching General Hospital reruns on Soap Network. No wonder no one wants her for President! Imagine if that roast was an important summit.
Her handlers have tried many times to get her to understand the idea of responsibility for her own good. You know what they say, you can lead a horse to water, but she'll probably just fall down and have to be shot because she's too dumb to stop trying to run.
Rest In Piece, Eight Bells. I look forward to seeing you soon at McDonald's for the premiere of the $8.88 Belle Burger with 100% fillet meat. Mmmmmm mmmmm. It' what?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
