Puppy Domination

I got a puppy and brought it home and put it on the floor...it started running in circles chasing its' tail. I wanted to establish dominance over the pet so I told it that its' tail was
on my side, and we had it surrounded.

Oranges

does anyone know a rhyme for oranges...I'll give you a clue

it hangs inside
it hangs outside
without them you can't get past
without them you can't get gas
they come in sizes 3 or 4 inches
shiny, dull, fancy, plain ol' .....



the answer is door hinges...

A Soul

After much poring over tomes and diligent study, I am slowly
beginning to learn the slight difference between an asshole and a soul.
Thus far, have I deduced:

An asshole basically looks like this; *

And a soul is a quantum particle that resembles a black hole in
front of a sun which is of spin twelve.

I just wouldn't want to thump out an angel at the pearly gates by mistake, or something. Eh?

Ode to a Little Green Lump of Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummers Night Eve

Dusk settled on the hazy day
As I sat on the reeds by the bay
Folding my arms in a relaxed repose
'Neath my arms, my hands imposed

When what should wonderous delight should I discover!
But a soft morsel nestled in my hairs like a lover!
Warmed motherly in the nest of my shoulder and arm
I plucked it carefully lest it lose its' charm

O' wonderous wonders of wonderful wonderment!
Celestial secret from a hidden labyrinth!
From whence did thee come?

O' Ooey gooey, oyster pearl!
From a far off alien world!
Reveal thy mysteries to me.

The sun sank on the bog at last
My sillouette held the putty fast
To discard it would be such a waste
it caused me to wonder of its' taste...

Like the penguins which persued the pied piper!
Deception, when tempted, is a bitter viper!
All my hopes, upon my pallette were hinges
Yet the disgusting flavour was worse then oranges!

O' foul, fowl of fate!
A gem, it was! Had I thought!
But, alas it's not!

O' insipid, insideous, fruit of hades!
A gem, it was! Had I thought!
But...alas....it's not!

End of the Earth

"apex" wrote: I was just wondering, how will the world end? We have about 3 billion years to get the fuck out of here.


Ogr81 wrote: The event of the earths' demise can be found on media at Starbucks' Restaurant, one mile south of The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, in the trendy Close to the End of the Universe District, although nobody is usually there except for wino's, hookers, and some worn out old mattresses that just complain about how they missed flomping about their home planet
while they drink coffee spiked with twelve year old Scotchguard.

A visiting Galagloob from the planet Penguin will urinate in the Nevada desert which will start the process. It should be noted that the average Galagloob is thirty feet tall, has a mere 2% water and only urinates approximately three times per life-time when they expel about 100 gallons per visit. As well, their urine has properties unknown to earth at this time which make it an extremely hardy liquid that freezes at -4550 degrees Celcius and boils at 5000 degrees. When it comes into contact with earth
water, the water undergoes a reaction which turns it completely to
Galagloober urine. Although the quantity urinated is not enough to cause any particular problem unless a location is not planned for in advance, this particular instance started a series of unlikely events which brings about the earths demise.

The Galagloober, drunk on several kegs of beer, will suddenly have to go relieve itself quickly. Choosing the first suitable spot, he does what comes natural to everyone in the universe except the eouaians, where it is done on computer. Unfortunately, the spot it chooses has a slight crack that widens below the surface. The urine pours through the crack and into the cavern below, right into a basin. This basin cannot hold all the weight of the liquid, and collapses through the shallow rock into another vast cavern below. The basin with all the urine crashes through a river that flows through the cavern, just enough to open up a fissure that
eventually leads to the earths core. The urine, now mixed with river water, will pour into the earth core and extinguished it.

Just as the Galagloober was jiggling his tentacle and zipping up, the last of the eaths core was flickering out. All the Galagloober urine steam, which is as thick as wax, will build too much preassure and finally blows through every opening to the earths surface. The gas will produce a rancid odour that suffocates all life on earth within a mere three years. A fleet of starship cleaners will have to come and spray 55 gillion gallons of pine
scented lysol to prevent the smell from reaching other planets.

It also gives rise to the sayings, "You smell like an earth fart!" and, " Friends don't let Galagoobers drink and pee.'

There it is; most embarrassing, but true. The earth will end in a
'phsssssst' and a fart.

Ben wrote: Why does gravity exist?



Ogr81 Theoried: By posing the question, one is kinda asking is there an ordered set of rules for the universe or is it a random sequence of unrelated events; if it exists for a reason, then there is an ordered set of rules which lead its' existance to a relationship with gravity.
So, in the question, "Why does gravity exist?" a person must assume it exists for a reason and that there is an ordered set of rules which govern the universe in order to answer it....unless the answer is, it exists just because it does. And if that is the state of the question at that point, one has to ask, who made these
rules, or, for what reason do these rules exist? And; why do gravitons act the way they do? Is it a cause or effect, an action or reaction? Or for that matter, why do any of the laws of physics adhere to this universe? Why, with every answer we get, do more arise?
If one continues to ponder the question, it expands and becomes exponentially complex until it could be all consuming. Did the question, at that point, get so big it consumes a person who was staying still, or did the person gravitate towards the question which remained the same size but appeared bigger the closer one approached?
O! ... I just fell off my chair!

News Flash

I've been thinking of retiring from flashing, but I might stick it out for one more year

Chestnuts

ShadowStar© wrote: Consider the peanut: It's neither a pea, nor a nut, yet we just munch on it with a sort of enigmatic acceptance of the lie exacted against us. I blame the government...


Ogr81 Responded:.....hey!.....you're right! Or, for that matter, the pineapple. It is neither pine nor apple! And mushrooms....they're not mush and they're not a room.....And muffins! They're not muff and they're not that 'in'. And damn
it! Ducks aren't always ducking, and bears are not that hard to put up with. Speakers don't speak and tellers don't tell!

It IS the government! They're using their self-engrandising method of cure and cripple!

......oh oh....I've said too much..........................................never
mind.....

Church/Religion

Someone wrote: The world loves to be deceived, they prefer to be led by private prejudice, self-interest, the praise of others, and the authority of the Church to which they have been brought-up by....

.....So, be not deceived by the disaproving doctrines of the world's religious dogmas, but instead look upon the foundations on which they were built, and then perceive them inwardly as a symbol of the true church.

Ogr81 wrote: I think there should be a well defined separation from our ideas of church and spirituality...spirituality is the manifestation of the soul, but religion is the manifestation of that manifestation.

The Joker

(written in third person omniphrenic)

"Come in Irving," the doctor said flatly.
Irving shuffled coyly through the office door. In his striped
pajamas with his oversized fuzzy bear slippers, his bulbous nose plagued with blood vessels broken from alcohol, and his long unkept hair divided between his big bald spot gave him the appearance of a hobo clown. He smiled warmly, as if to say, 'everything will be all right.'
Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right.
"Sit down, please Irving."
He did so.
"So you want to be released," the doctor said frankly.
I have work to do. "Yes sir. I feel I can be a productive member of society." He had heard that phrase earlier and decided to use it for the interview. The medication he was on, surpressed the vitality of his spirit, and the thought weighed on him heavily.
Looking at the report in front of him, the doctor said, "I
understand you have been very cooperative about taking your medication lately."
"Yes sir," Irving answered from the remote ether world of the
drugs.
I'll set up on Drury Ave, and speak at the park. I remember
something but I forget...Ha! Albatross. What a funny word...
"Irving! Pay attention!" The words cut into his reality and
yanked him into the doctors'.
The doctor watched as the fading clowns' smile went from comfortaby numb right up to a verbal snicker, before fear washed over it.
Negativity!
The word sounded through his mind like an alarm. He had to do
something!
"I hope you don't mind that I wore my bare feet." He said pointing to his fuzzy bear slippers.
The doctor looked and smiled.
The alarm shut off.
"As I was saying, there are some points I would like to discuss
with you first. Is that okay?"
"Yes." The innuendo of agreement had been reached by rote, which defined itself as subjugated hypothetical assimilation. The loudspeaker outside the office said calmly, "Dr. Rueter to Practology, please, Dr. Rueter."
Irving smiled. He felt embued in positive energy, and his body
almost seemed to float above the comfortable chair he was in.
"First off, the time you disturbed Dr. Phelcews' lecture."
Oh oh. There's negativity getting in here.
Dr Phelcew had been teaching laser disection when Irving burst into the classroom and began slapping all the students bottoms with a rubber chicken as he ran.
That place has to be cleaned of negative energy regularily. People shouldn't donate their bodies if they're going to stay attached to them after they die.
"How did you smuggle the rubber chicken in?" The doctor asked.
The rubber chicken was a big issue at the hospital. One of the security staff had even been let go over it.
Chicka-chicka-chicken in....Irving?....chicka-chicka-chicken in...
"Irving? Are you listening? Where did you get the rubber
chicken?"
His eyes lost the euphoric glaze as he focused on the doctor, his infantile smile fading to a frown.
"I..." he searched himself for any recollection of a rubber
chicken, "...can't remember."
Experience told the doctor that Irving was being sincere. "Do you remember why you did it?"
His long tufts of hair around his ears danced as he shook his head slowly.
"It says here you claimed that you , '...had to clean the room for nurse Halloways' inspection'?"
"Yes."
Hallow-bitch! Don't be negative! Keep your guard up!
Balloons....
"What made you think she was going to inspect that room?"
"I misunderstood," was always a good answer.
The doctor referred to his report, saw it checked out and perused the next section.
Irving thought of nothing as he floated like a balloon amongst
fluffy clouds. It felt so good to think of nothing. To be
weightless...fresh, crisp air all around...elation without
grounds...timeless...
"Irving!"
He blinked as he looked around in confusion. Everything in the
office seemed so dingy, despite all the clinical white.
"What of Nurse Patricks' brassiere?"
A look of guilt painted itself across Irvings face. "I told
everyone that I don't know!" he shouted over zealously.
He pictured it swaying in the breeze triumphantly atop the branch he had stuck in the ground to be a flag pole. It was to be a symbol of his love to ward off any stray negative energy. Symbols of love worked great for warding off negativity. She was so full of positive energy.
He knew he was just a battle-worn, bedraggled old codger, but she found a place in his heart which he was powerless to prevent. Come hell or high water he would always love her, even if he could never express it. One day she bent over and he could see her panties. The thrill of the experience sent Irvings blood pulsating through him like he hadn't felt in decades. Not even the medication could calm him. So they gave him more, and it did calm him. The next day he snuck into the nurses locker-room and stole her bra. Shortly after, he realized what he had done was a ruse by the forces of negativity, and he had lost a battle.
So he quickly repented, and tried to put it back. By that time, the
alarm had gone around that someone stole Nurse Patricks bra, and they were keeping their eye on the area. They spotted Irving as he guiltily shuffled towards the locker room, but he saw them and bolted. He knew it would end up in a negative attack if he let them catch him, so he quickly stuffed it down his pants. They caught him anyway, he was overwhelmed by a negative energy assault. During the whole process, he only gave them his name: Joker; rank: Warrior; serial number: a buck three eighty.
Judging from Irving silence, the doctor concluded he was still
unwilling to face up to it, so he proceded.
Name: Joker. Rank: Warrior. Serial number: A buck three
eighty....Name: Joker. Rank: Warrior. Serial number....
"I'm afraid that you will have to show more presence if you wish for me to procede. It is very important you pay attention. Again, and for the final time...
The ward had been plagued by an outbreak of fake vomit attacks.
Almost everybody spewed at once shortly after eating lunch. In a sudden panic, the nurses scurried about to quickly investigate, only to find fake vommit. The patience laughed uproariously for over an hour, and one was still laughing. Even some of the nurses laughed after they realized what was going on. Negativity dared not peek around the ward that afternoon, but stayed at home in the deepest corners of the nurses station and doctors offices. The stunt had Irvings trademarks plastered all around it, and it was a fore-gone conclusion when they questioned him about it.
A mental picture of Nurse Patricks boobs as he imagined them
flashed through his mind. He quickly checked it to see if it was
negative or positive. It was hard to tell. But he didn't become one of the worlds' foremost warriors for positive energy without learning tracking skills first. First, where did it come from...
"What made you want to do that?
"The negative side of my mind," Irving responded.
...where does it go...
"Good. And would you do it again?"
"I don't like to go there."
...where is it most vulnarable to attack...
"Good. Do you now know why that type of behavior is wrong?"
"I will try harder to get along with everybody."
...the negativity was easily dispelled...
"Excellant!" The doctor looked pleased.
Was he going to get released?
"I am recommending you for three more months of therapy here..."
A tidal wave of negative energy suddenly crashed into the room. It assaulted Irving like hordes of tiny demons, covering him and overwhelming him...
"...with Dr. Idle. You have made tremendous progress yet we are not quite there..."
.....it was suffocating and he wanted to scream in a primal attempt to break free...
"...no....please..." he whined... "the medication is negative...I can't take it anymore..."
"Three months will pass by quickly, and you'll feel much better..."

The realization hit him suddenly! He was a prisoner of war! He had to get out!
"NO!" he screamed violently as he burst out of his chair. The
exuberation of battle coursed through him as he tossed the minion of
Negativity aside like a rag doll. Unfortunately for him, the doctor was quick enough to press the button that would summon more before he crumpled in the corner. They burst through the doors quickly and lunged after Irving.
He fought valiantly, refusing to give up until all his energy was spent. As they dragged him down the hall to his cell, he had just enough presence of mind to utter a positive mantra to keep himself alive..."what's green and slithers down hospital halls...Mucus
Welby...what's green..."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over-due Notice - CPCO

To the occupants of:
Earth
12 354 845 909 735b Outer Spiral Dr.
Milky Way

Our records indicate that your bill hasn't been paid in 10 900 (earth years). The amount of 9 874 895 711 978 550 887 344 800 761 296 133 677 834 222 089 132 786 342 115 799.34 pounds of platinum are payable due at the nearest Chemical Properties Company Office immediately. Failure to pay your bill will result in the discontinuation of your chemical reaction services until the account is paid in full, as well as a 10billion pound Nanavuk Blubber security deposit. For more information, emit 1-800-555-physicalenforcementscorp ext. penguin038 through pyschic
frequency 888waddlebottom.

Post Card from a Disney World

c/o Billy the Mountain & Ethel
Earth
12 354 845 909 735b Outer Spiral Dr.
Milky Way

Just wanted to let you know we're having a wonderful time at Plutodisney and its' well worth the admission of energy to see it revealed. The weather has been great! It's been raining attar everyday! Goofy looked like he was on Goofballs! Haha.
C ya when we get back!
Sincerely
Freddy Fiorde and Delta

c/o Billy the Mountain & Ethel
Earth
12 354 845 909 735b Outer Spiral Dr.
Milky Way

Just wanted to let you know we're having a wonderful time at Plutodisney and its' well worth the admission of energy to see it revealed. The weather has been great! It's been raining attar everyday! Goofy looked like he was on Goofballs! Haha.
C ya when we get back!
Sincerely
Freddy Fiorde and Delta

Milky Way Miles

Congradulations denizens of earth, you now have enough Milky Way Miles accumulated for a free trip to Mars! You now have a total
of 4 Milky Way Miles. Look at what else you can get!:

Pueter three stooges commorative plate-1 MWM(with Curly 2 MWM)
Three stooges toothpaste and toothbrush holder-1 MWM (Curly NA)
A gift certificate for a free spleen cleaning at Zaphods of
BlobblyCrook -2 MWM
A visit from Elvis Presley-3 MWM
A visit from the three stooges - 4 MWM (5 MWM for Curly)

In the future, you can look forward to these exciting rewards!:

free airfare to Newel Post - 1 322 MWM
a weekend getaway to tropical Plexigloss - 5 845 MWM
free dna melding with the three stooges - 1 599 899 MWM (1 599 900 MWM for Curly)

For more rewards, and information on how you could win a free vacation to the mysterious eastern galaxy of Isia, access psychic frequency 121RewardswithMilkyWaysMiles, extension Keegleknickers003

You Could Already be a Winner!

In only 10 short bleebs, the Endogalactic Publishers Clearing Planet
will be drawing the numbers for their GRAND PRIZE of 10 simpsillion
dollars! Over 20 000 shoresand dollars have already been given away.
You Earthling could already be a WINNER!

To find out if you have won, simply send us a copy of your Navel Shockra Imprint to our office. Yes. That's all we want. Hehe. Just your NSI. We won't give it away. I promise! Hehe. Not when we could sell it everywhere for big bucks! HAHA! .............oooo....damn, I shouldn't have printed that bit on over 90 scrotumillion copies......double damn.....nor that......

Gotta go! Bye!

The Ugly Rubber Duckling - Why they are now banned in the galaxy

The use of profane language in this story is intended for educational purposes only. Please excuse the fowl language.
This propaganda was generously donated by the governing authorities of the Milky Way:

The conditions of the factory were barbaric, even for earth.
Improper ventilation imbued everything inside with a thick melted rubber stench, even the unpainted cinder block which the old building was constructed of. The disgruntled employees were used to the smell, because it permeated them, all their clothes and even their furniture at home.
The rubber press rose and fell with timponic accuracy, echoing and resounding off the walls like Natural Disasters' metro dome. The machines that injected the rubber into the molds made a farting sound with each duck it produced. The squeaker driver whirred as it spun the squeaker down into the belly of the rubber duck, and then whined when it spun back up. A din of squeaks emanated as the ducks fell from the conveyor belt into the cooling bins.
The twisted, alcoholic owner had recently installed the recording of a clown laugh, which played incessantly over the tinny speakers. He thought it would improve employee morale, and thought it was working, but in actuality, it had driven them all over the edge. They were smiling because they had resolved themselves to killing the owner, had formulated a plan, and would be executing it soon.
"It's in the bottom drawer of his desk," the quality control
inspector said to the packager as he squeezed the duck. It squeaked and he tossed it into the packaging bin.
The packager picked it up and asked, "Is it locked?" He threw the duck into the packaging machine.
"Yes," the quality control inspector said as he squeezed another duck, then tossed it in the bin.
The packager twitched. "Then we need a key!" he exclaimed under his breath.
The quality control inspector squeezed the next duck, and it
produced the most awful sound he had ever heard. Not so much of a
squeak, but more of a squonk. They both looked at the toy with disdain, and smirked. Simultaneously they burst into raucous insane laughter.
They stopped as quickly as they started, and as he threw the rubber duck into the reject bin, it made a subtler squonk.

The sound it produced was reproachful from the point of view of
those receiving the frequency via primitive hair follicles, but for
those using psychic shockra points, it emitted a warm vibration
previously unfelt in the known galaxy. It rippled through space/time like a 'SLAP!' "Woop-woop-woop," of beloved Curly, but with tantamount more bearing. It penguined into wormholes and spurted out the other side, cascading over meteor fields and winding its' way through asteroid belts.
And to every species which had active psychic shockras, it lulled them into a euphoric sense of well-being, similar to the effects of goofballs, but incomparable in the degree to which one got 'stoned.'
Not even the governing bodies of the Milky Way were immune yet!
By the time they came to their senses, the rubber duck had already been abpenguited from the earth. Before they could issue a warning, it squeaked again.
No one is sure how long the known galaxy was 'out of it' for, or how many squeaks they endured, ( not even time scans can help), but when we came to, the Milky Way was a mess. Planets boasting simpillions were bedraggled and burnt out. Cases of extreme munchies raged unfettered except by the desire to take a long hot shower. Denizens took to driving Voltzwagen bugs (bugs from the planet Voltz) and growing epidermis for the first time in eons. They gathered in huge masses and just sat there with infantile smiles, paying no regard to their personal hygiene or the kind of clothes they wore.
The governing bodies of the Milky Way were concerned that by the time they learned to become immune, it would be too late. And every time they seemed to be making headway, the possessor of the duck would squeeze it again. They tried desperately to keep things under control any way they could, from killing the leaders of the neo-culture to issuing planet wide curfews.
They even tried a smoke screen war to divert attention and perhaps make the numbers manageable. Unfortunately, the area they waged the war had learned to produce synthetic rubber ducks that produced a weaker effect, yet was enough to waylay all the armies. To make matters worse, a sophisticated smuggling network of synthetic rubber ducks was developed by the soldiers, which poured around the galaxy undaunted.
It looked as though it would be the end of the civilized galaxy.
All of the galaxies hopes rested on the shoulders of the only who could bare such a weight. That being was no other then.........

* *
* *
\ |
| /

*~ BOY!!! ~*
Dumpster~*

/ |
| * *
* *

And his faithful side-kick Captain Keegle the
Seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeagulllllllll!!!!!

We join our heroes at the foot a tor where the evil Dr. Xdressers' secret hideaway is.
"Squawk?" Captain Keegle asked innocently.
"Because Dr. Xdresser must have the rubber duck! Why else would he leave the cryptic message, 'I've got he rubber duck!' on our super hero answering service. And we have to destroy it once and for all!"
"Squawk!" Captain Keegle asked.
"Because it's driving everyone GOOFY!"
"Squawk!!"
"NO! That's a bad thing! O Keegle ol' chum, one day you'll
learn."
Canned laughter.
"So without further adieu!" Dumpster Boy put his Josy and the
Pussycats lunch box on a rock, opened it and flung his cape out
dramatically. Some apple cores spilled out in the process, so he
stooped to pick them up. Captain Keegles flew off his shoulder long
enough to let him tie the cape on. (actually an apron that said
'Jorgles' Deli' on it.) He carefully closed his lunch box, and hid it where no-one would find it.
Tucking in his red T-shirt and pulling his blue long underwear
safely over his navel, he exclaimed, "To the lair Keegle!"
Suddenly a trap door beneath Dumpster Boy opened up, and he
streaked down a spiraling slide until he splashed into a pool below. As he checked his shoe to see if he had lost his eight dollars, he noticed he wasn't alone. The cavern he was in, was filled with temperamental penguins! Brandishing tickle feathers!

Will our hero be tortured to a tickling end!
Will our hero escape in time to stop the evil Dr. Xdresser from
squeezing the rubber duck and destroying the MILKY WAY!!
Oh the drama!
Oh the action!

Reaching into his utility long-underwear, Dumpster Boy quickly
pulled out a pickeral, giggling already as he did so. The closest
penguin came running to be the first to get the fish. It got it all
right! Right across the face along with a patented (pending) Dumpster Boy bite to the cheek!
Slap!
Pow!
Dumpster fought his way to an exit!
Ping!
Ooooo!
They swarm around him!
Tickle, tickle!
Hehehehehehehe!
"Can't...hold out...any...longer!

Is this truly the END OF EVERYTHING!
Even DUMPSTER BOY SURPRISE CEREAL WITH EXTRA SUGAR!!!
Oh the suspence!
OH MY BLOOD PRESSURE!!!!

Suddenly Captain Keegle appeared through the shaft Dumpster Boy
slid down, flying frantically and excreting his patented (pending)
Keegle Krap on the penguins!
Squat!
Squawk!
"Go Keegle go!"
Splat!
Slip!
"Not me!"

Our heroes narrowly escape death as they slip through the exit.
Wasting no time they hurry to Dr. Xdressers lab.
They opened a door and there it was. In an ark made of pure gold, whose value is of the sheckel according to the covenant, measuring twelve cubits by twelve cubits by fifty cubits, adorned with drapes made of finest linens strung around eight golden pillars.
"That looks like the Ark of the Covenant!" Dumpster Boy exclaimed.
"That's right, I stole it. What are you gonna do about it, you big brute," a slightly effeminate, but oozing with evil voice said from the shadows. Dr. Xdresser emerging wearing a light kacki mid-summer evening ensemble with matching sandals. The material was woven of an easy breathing cotton and blixicra blend with soft flowing curves and subtle hemlines. Not at all in style with the season of the planet!
"How you ever survived the implosion of the black hole is beyond me, but here you are." The doctor stopped near a console and struck a Sear/Starbuck pose. "Like a pimple on my butt."
"Cease and desist at once, you evil fiend!" Dumpster Boy demanded.

The doctor laughed evilly...well actually it was natural for him, but he was naturally evil. "Or what?! Your bird will shit on me again!? You'll throw a tin can at my head again?! You'll bonk me in the head with your silly Josy and the Pussy Cats lunchbox!?"
Now he had done it! He had hurt Dumpster Boys feelings!
"AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" Dumpster Boy screamed as he attacked Dr. Xdresser. His limbs flailed wildly as he lunged in beserker rage!
Dr. Xdresser kicked off his sandal and hit Dumpster Boy square on the nose with it.
"Owwww!" he exclaimed bravely, stopping in his tracks and clutching his nose. "OWWWWWWW! It's bleeding!"
Captain Keegle went crazy with ire and shat on Dr. Xdresser!
Totally pissed at having yet another new outfit destroyed by the seagull, Dr. Xdresser brandished his gun and vapourized the side-kick into the 9th dimension.
That gave Keegle enough of a distraction to dash for the duck.
Dr. Xdresser shot the base of one of the golden columns around the ark of the covenant where the rubber duck sat, and all eight columns came crashing down on Dumpster Boy, the drapes entangled around.
The evil doctor strode casually over to the rubber duck, stopping to pick up and put on his sandal along the way. He made no attempt to walk around the heap Dumpster Boy was under, but just splunked over it.
"There seems to be a lot of concern about this duck," he said
sarcastically as he lifted it. "It seems that anyone not wearing my
patented (pending) Navel Vibration Absorber gets, how shall we say," he
grinned maliciously, "Out of business."
From the rubbles' depths came a muffled, "That's a good way to put it."
"You don't have a Navel Vibration Absorber on, do you?"
Dumpster Boy saw Dr. Xdressers hand come into view from a slight aperture in the spill. His hand clenched tighter around the duck!
"So if I were to, say," his hand clenched still tighter around the duck, "for some reason..." His hand clenched as hard as it possibly could without producing a sound! "have the whim to...." His hand clenched as hard as it possibly could without producing a sound!

OH THE EXCITEMENT!!!!!
OH THE EVERYTHING!!!!!!
THIS STORY IS TOO EXCITING EVEN FOR COMMENTATION!!!!!!

"...suddenly have it in me to..."
"WAIT!" Dumpster Boy exclaimed as he burst from the warm, cozy
feeling of the clutter! "I just remembered what I have to tell you!"
Dr. Xdresser looked confused.
"You have a child!"
The doctor looked more confused.
"The Milky Way Miles!"
Suddenly he remembered. He had the most Milky Way Miles in the
galaxy and cashed them in. He mostly wanted the Ion Gun for 9
vermillion MWM, but had enough left over to purchase a lot more. The DNA melding was one of the extra things he got.
"It's healthy and looks a little like you and a little like Curly!"

For the first time he could remember, he smiled warmly; a
combination of maternal glow and paternal warmth. "Is it a boy or
girl?" he demanded to know.
"Nobody is sure, but it's healthy!"
His smile widened.
"So if you destroy the galaxy with your squeak toy, what kind of place would it be to raise your child!? Where would it go to school?!
Where would it meet peers so it can socialize and discover the latest fashion trends!? How will it learn about different cultures if there are none left!?"
Dr. Xdresser grabbed Dumpster Boy by the T-shirt and pulled him
close to his heavily cosmetic laiden face. In deep, concise words he spat, "It will learn about other cultures from watching me pillage them! I will be the only peer it will ever need, and the only type of fashion it will ever know will come from the top-most authority - me!
It will learn from me and carry my legacy into the galaxy for ages to come! And as for what type of galaxy it will be - it will be the
perfect environment to raise my child - a vast wasteland of ANARCHY!!!"
'Squeak!'
"Noooooo!" Dumpster screamed and lunged after the duck. The
building shook for effect. Actually, make that an earthquake tremour!
They had only moments to get out of there before the hide-out collapsed!

They fought visciously for possession of the duck; stretching and twisting it to and fro while boulders crashed around them!
The duck squeaked in agonizingly warm vibrations.
Finally, at the last moment, Dr. Xdresser got the upper hand!
He laughed maniacally as he pushed his foot into Dumpster Boys face to scrape him free of the duck
But, at the last moment, Dumpster Boy imagined it was a discarded licorice, and gave it the patented (pending) Dumpster Boy Last Try! He yanked with all his might, exclaiming, "My twizzler!" The rubber around the ducks belly losened, and the squeaker popped out in slow motion four or five times from different perspectives.
The mountain crashed down around them.

* * *


So, citizens of earth, you now know the reason why rubber ducks are a grave concern in the galaxy. Please take the time to learn the moral of the story, whatever that may be, then destroy all of your rubber ducks; before you are found guilty and are faced with the consequences. Because nobody can afford those kind of reprimands!

canned laughter
Good luck, and remember, don't take any rubber ducks!

canned applause

Will the Real Dick Clark Please Stand Up

I haven't heard much talk about genetic engineering since
scientists cloned a Scottish sheep (Haggishag et al), and it kind
of scares me. True, I have heard of some smaller break-throughs
in that field of science, such as organ cloning, (Werlitzer et
al), but we have gleened these gestalt genes, so why the jib?
Here we are with the tree of life before us, and you expect me to
believe no-one is going to eat of its' fruit?
Why wouldn't the Gigishibi Corporation buy rights to a
celebrity before they die and multi-clone them for simultaneous
appearances everywhere?
Why wouldn't some mad scientist living on an exotic island
create a super-human that could take over the world? (Dr. Xdresser
et al)
Why wouldn't someone who had oodles and oodles of cash find a
way to prolong their life so they didn't have to part with their
money?
Why wouldn't we, as a species, use whatever knowledge we have
to save ourselves if we found out we were in danger or dying?
But nary a peep since the copied sheep.
Anyone who was a child knows that when you found something
that perhaps you shouldn't play with, you were always quiet so not
to attract attention to yourself, but somehow you always got
caught. Sometimes silence speaks volumes...

Space/Time

Ogr81: I find that facinatining...both for the knowledge it gives (such as a more accurate datum point for space/time etc....) and the questions it raises.
Like: What is the universe expanding into? If it is expanding at an accelerated rate, whatever it is that would have to accommodate the universe at an increasingly less resistant pace. Would there have to be a unifying field that would allow both to exist on a common plane. Is the energy that drives the universe apart pushing outward or is the other side drawing it out? Are we to assume a self-perpetuating infinate energy is possible or is there something that is driving the universe apart and
able to so faster and faster. Is the other side anti-matter, is it
anti-gravity,anti-time, lightless, static, non-vibrating or what?
Essentially, as you stated, what causes it to expand?
Even assuming there is a fifth field or the value is zero (and
gravity can repel), Is that point where the universe is expanding, (assuming you could theorically extract one point from the rim of the universe) the equal sign (=) or not equal sign (my key-board doesn't have one), the question is in our universe and the answer lies on the other side?
It seems the theory implicates that there isn't an ether, but an actual point when the universe began and everything can be calculated to its precise location in time/space from that point since everything originated from that point. (If we had all the proper data and assumed we were conducting the calculation at one of the points within the expontential equaion) Picturing an elongating and widening cone that has the origin at the top and encompasses all that it has expanded to at the bottom, then everything does have a point within it, and can be located by
associating it with the distance to the top compared to the speed of the universe expansion. Even if you were studying the time it takes an apple to fall twenty feet from a moving train at different speeds to compare it to someone's findings conducted further from the effects of gravity (or any different scenario) and points could be calculated in realtionship to the beginning and end (where the end is the point of expansion [u +1])
Am i right?
Just wanted to dicuss it more and dig brains. Thanx for your
patience.

Silliness

Ogr81 strode proudly at last to the speakers corner podium (HA! There's a funny word! Podium...sounds like an metal alloy for poor people! HA! Or some kinda element ore soemthin'. HA! Or....or....(Get on with it, you're wasting internet ink!)) and looked at the crowd that was gathered. Clearing his throat, he began nervously:

"I'm no computer genius, but is it important if dogs go to heaven..."
Suddenly a crack in the space/time continuum opens before him like aluminum foil on a filling, (aluminum...hehe...is there an alumaxim....) and Marvin the Manic Depressant Robot rolls into the reality totally ignoring all copyrights. "Oh great one," he drones unenthusiastically, "another metephorical part. Here I am, with the brain the size of a planet...."
Seeing his five minutes of fame fleeting before him, Ogr81 tries to regain the audience. "Seriously people, listen! I can't talk much longer! I blew a tire trying to get here and boy do my lips hurt!"
"...and I get cast into a mediocre role where I have to drone on and on about movies and ticks..."
"I mean," Ogr81 shouted louder, despite all those in attendance were riveted to the anamoly (Anamoly! HA!) "If you're a dog then of course..."
"and endless eternal dribble." Pleased those at the speakers
corner were paying attention to his complaints, he ignored the rantings of the insignificant being hopping about madly behind him and continued. "You know what they use the biggest part of brain for?..."
"If you're a dog then of course you would want to get on-line.
Oooops. Ignore that part! I got it wrong. If you're a dog..." Ogr81 knew he had lost all hopes of getting his five minutes, and sat deflated.
"Dirty pictures. I would cringe if I were mechanically inclined
so. They have vast frontiers to explore, yet they poke about pictures of orifices and fatty flesh like coyotes carrying on around carrion. "
Hearing the mention of a species cannus (cannus, there's a weird one...what's that, the national anthem for the people of the east coast of Canada when they have enough stamps for the pogey dole), a spark rekindles in Ogr81 where his desire to expound his magnaminous ideas burned fervently. "Yes!" He jumps up and shouts. "Dogs! Heaven!"
The words spewed out fragmentally, (Fragmentally....sounds like someone with a heavy quake2 addiction) and he struggled inwardly to organize the thoughts into a logical order.
"Only the carrion the coyotes are coveting isn't even meat, it's only spam...."
A voice with a middle-aged female British accent from within the crowd protested, "What do you have against spam! It's good for you! It's all spongy like mad cow brains now, you know." The last part, the ratbag said to her friend beside her. "Oooo," her friend responded happily. "Fancy that."
"Oh, don't tell me about spam," Marvin complained, "my entire
Internal Diodistic Inputtable Objectiumabob Thingerist Binarario
Unixitron Zaphodial Zippididoohicky Wankankerous Orbitationistic Radadio Driver is imbued in spam."
Ogr81 took the slight break to jump in enthusiacally. "In an
infinate medium we can..."
"This is boring," one ratbag said to the other. "Let's go to the stoning."
"Yeah," the other agreed and they trod off as animation over
cartoon hills against a plain blue cardboard sky.
"Who they gonna stone today Ratbag1," Ratbag2 asked.
"Watch it! We're only bit parts. If I answer that, our parts will be over and they'll stop animating us."
"Oooo, good point. It's a good thing you noticed the names or
we'ld be done for"
They go up and down hills while the sun quickly sets. The moon
rises just as quickly, smiling slying as the man in the moon is wont
to do. Suddenly it opens its' mouth expansively and takes a good chomp out of the hillside. The ratbags freeze in horror, scream, turn and scurry the other way. The moon ducks behind the horizon and comes up the other side. As it opens its' mouth wide to take another bite of the landscape, the ratbags scream, turn and scurry another direction. Even quicker, the moon appears before them and takes a chomp out of the landscape as they turn and run. The action is excelerated frantically until there is only a small clump of ground around them. The moon opens
it's mouth wide to finally swollow them up.
"Quick! The line! Who are they stoning today?" Ratbag2 exclaims in a panic.
"Oh! Oh!" Ratbag 2 struggles in a frenzy as she tries to remember her line. Just as the mouth closes on them she exclaims, "Someone who said Jehov

Fowl Language

Excuse my fowl language during the following:

(Two old ladies are golfing. The people ahead are a little slow, so
they decide to have a cigar while they wait)
Ratbag1: Would you like a cigar Mrs. Fundament?
Ratbag2: Sure, Mrs. Sillyname.
(As Mrs. Fundament goes to her golf bag):
Ratbag1: Cubans!
Ratbag2: Where! Where! ....oh...(laughing with realization)....I see, Cuban cigars. Spent some time in the states, see.
Ratbag2: (Laughing along) Oh dear. (She hands Mrs. Sillyname a cigar, and they lick it over-zealously)
(Mrs Fundament reaches into the other side of her golfbag and pulls out an overly exaggerated sized lighter requiring two hands to operate. She lights up the cigars and they puff contently upon them)
Ratbag2: Say Mrs. Fundament, where'ld you get such a ridiculously
over-sized lighter?
Ratbag1: From a magical genie
Ratbag2: Oh dear, my agent never mentioned this would be a genie
sketch...oh well...A genie?
Ratbag1: Why yes, it's in my golf bag. Go ahead, take a look.
Ratbag2: Right, right...(shuffles unenthusiastically to the golf bag and looks in one of the pouches.) Why dear, yes. So there is.
Ratbag1: Go ahead, Mrs Sillyname. Make a wish.
Ratbag2: Okay then. I'll wish for a million bucks.
Ratbag1: Oooo, good one. It'll be along soon.
(They're puffing away on their cigars when they hear a distant odd
sound. They cock their heads and listen intently. The sound of many ducks quacking as they approach becomes evident. Suddenly, a massive throng of ducks lands on the golf course all around them. Through the deafening quacking...)
Ratbag2: Mrs Fundament! What are all these ducks! I asked for a
million bucks!
Ratbag1: The genie is hard of hearing! How else do you think I turned my husband into a ten inch bic!

Dinner

Ogr81 wrote: You're all invited to my house for dinner tomorrow. fivish....cya

Dragonman wrote:Need road map... Shall I bring the Southern Comfort?

Too late for dinner but never too late for Southern Comfort...........hey, that was kinda like an ad for Southern Comfort........and you know! It made me thirsty! Cheers!

Ogr81

Ol Papa Dantry
Went to pantry
To get himself a shot
He reached for SC
But the bottle was empty
So Jack Daniels was all he got

B-Movie Review

"What are they doing to my b-medium," I rant as I type my anger to
the world. It is a dark and scary night. The kind of night when
anything weird could happen.
"Like lost in space!" I further enscribe, as the sound of a
harpsichord hits an e major seventh. "A perfectly good b genre as a
series, evil computer editors gather in dim labratories and grin
maniacally as they hack and butcher until....until....UNTIL...o my god my heads gonna explode!...a slick, polished hollywood thingy."
A branch scratches at my windows like the claws of savage blood
thirsty mutated rats, as I press on. "I can almost hear these slick
dudes smugly saying,-'look what I can do!'- sure computers can do a
lot....sometimes too much! Muhahahaha!"
As I rubbed my head deep in thought, and scratched my chin as I
mused, the candle blew out mysteriously. I went to the basement to
retrieve more matches. It was weird and scary as I looked in the mirror that hung on the inside of the basement door. From below I heard a groan; like that of a hideous beast that sucks flesh off people.
Suddenly! I remembered what it was I wanted to point out. Quickly, I ran back to my drawing room and used the lighter to relight the candle.
The shadows danced frantically as the flame burst through the dark, and soon I was back at it.
"Doctor Smith was not evil!" I fumed. "He was a victim of his own greed, ambitious and sloth, but not evil!" Angrily I threw the cat against the wall, but decided not to write it because people might believe me and think I was crazed, but I'M NOT!! DAMN IT!! I'M NOT!!
So I decided to make a mental note....uh...a memory note to delete the cat part. The cat slunk to the ground hurt, but not down. It's eyes gleemed with the desire for revenge. It glared at me as it bared its claws.
"And...ooooo!....I'ld like to kick the shit out of Don...in the
series...but the movie I'm just glad Joey finally got an acting job."
An owl said hoot.
My temperature rises as my fingers furiously pound on the
keyboards. Nothing could hold back the maddening tidal wave of
infuriating angry froth that savagely spewed frustration through the
small spigot of my brain.
"Then there's Godzilla! If that's what you want to call it."
The vision of an angry mob of amazonion warriors thunders through my head, high and proud on their steed as they bounce into
battle...pounce...I meant pounce. I cleared the vision and got to the matter back at hand.
"They could of called it anything, but it wasn't Godzilla. Godzilla was a man in a suit that stomped around cardboard replica's of Tokya while Japanese with bad interpretation problems ran screaming for Mothra. They chased it with planes that flew via fishing line which smashed and burned and you laughed...that was Godzilla!"
My anger threatens to overwhelm me as the blood pounds against my temples. A slight breeze could send me postal, could send me racing through the friggin country in a modified car running over people, could make me FLIP right out like a chinese kung fu acrobat on a speed overdose.
Desparately gathering the reservation required to complete my task, I trudge on. "This slick lizard they have pitted against a typical hollywood plot would have been a good movie by itself, called anything but Godzilla. Don't go promising a b movie and dissapoint me with good stuff."
I...can...take it...no...longer!
I grab a butcher knife a raise it high in the air. Those in the room scream and scatter in different directions.
'No,' I decide, that's not right. The chainsaw would be much more efficient, I realize and take it out of my desk. "But first...I must leave with these parting words to the hotshot animation editors in hollyweird."
"You bastards are killing my b medium! I...I...I will hunt you all down like straw dogs! Yes! All of you! I will destroy you with my freeze ray! I will implant your heads onto the heads of a big black man named Bubbah who hates you! I will hold you in a German POW camp where Ilsa will have her way with you! I will tie you to a railroad track and let a horde of Roman gladiators run over you!"
The candle flickers before it dies...In the darkness, I realize it is done. I clap my hands to activate the desk lamp morosely, knowing my soul is emptied. Perhaps there will be hope yet for this planet of apes.

Uranus

Finally flabberghasted by the new onslaught of Uranus jokes when the
discovery of a new moon around it was revealed, concerned experts have decided that the pronunciation of the planet is going to change from:

Uranus- your anus

to:

Uranus- urine us

The final decision came after much deliberation, and was almost renamed Rectumus.

Save Now!

Shop at the Jesus Kryste Superstore and save!

End of the Fiscal Universe

> Ogr81 wrote: People of earth are advised that your year 2000 marks the end of the fiscal universe. You are to fill out a Right to Existance form and have it returned to the nearest Milky Way Taxation Office within 6 bleebs. Failure to do so could result in charmic discomfort or temporary death.
For those filing for a return, please allow six to eight bleebs for delivery.

Dragonman wrote: I need some help with form 54trERç12-24566^RtdfTÞ)*
Do I need to declare my time spent in the bathtub in minutes, days, or bleebs?

Ogr81: Time spent in aquatic environments is calculated by the equation: .5(d x psi)+nse(js x b)=bst where:d=duration

psi=pounds per square inch
nse=navel shockra emissions
js=joules spent
b=bleebs
bst=being somebody tax

Dragonman: Also, what is the tax deduction, that would apply to the next fiscal universe, for being temporarily dead which would have been the result of failing to send in my form 54trERç12-24566^RtdfTÞ)* on time. I'm always late, especially by your time...

Those declaring temporary death must have earned a minimum of 99 penguillion Charmic Sheckels or 50 penguillion dollars and 30 splunkillion good ideas for a .000000025% deduction. For further information, access pyschic frequency 444OllyWallyBiscuitBarrelPING! ext. Sillyword723.

Learning French

ogr81 wrote: Bonjour! La poison et dans la cravat. (Sorry if my grammar is a little off, the translation book I'm using, 'The Oxfiorde French/English Dictionary' doesn't have a section for that.)

Andy wrote: Perhaps you would like to borrow this nearly-new Hungarian phrasebook?

Ogr81: ....ahhh oui. Mon tete es tres gros et mon pantalon son dans la salle de bonbon.

Andy: Your breasts are enormous and your trousers are in the sweetie room?

Ogr81:Je suis un babilliard dans la rue de le vie....hehe....noooooooooooooooooon! Douglas Adams es tres pingu, mai l'ecrivet es; com se dit; bouncy bouncy, et 'ooo-la-la! Je suis la roi de la Espania! Trois, duex, un, POOOFFFF!! Eh?
Haw haw hawww! Trouve la formage, mosieur marsupal, et voila! es dans la bistro a la finis de la universite!

Girl Smells

Ogr81 wrote;

I met an angel at the Matador once. I asked her if her name was Angel because she smelled of sweet celestial nectar. Another time I met a girl named Rose at Club Voodoo. I asked her if her name was Rose because she smelled of sweet attar in mid-summers eve. Another time, at Dominoes, I met a girl named Fanny. We danced.

Democracy

>The problem with democracy is that a lot of people stand around mass debating a lot.

Helpful Hints -2

Ogr81 did etch-A-sketch the following remarkable information:

If you're doing the boola-boola fertility dance, and the bog newts keep falling out of your nostrils, try using fibraglass-resin epoxy instead of the traditional muscox pancreas, frog spit mixture. It is easier to purchase and it works!
Ratbat Responded:Thanks for the info I'll try it :O) While on the subject of the boola-boola fertility dance, the bag of Pea's frozen to my genitals keeps defrosting whilst i'm dancing, how can i keep them frozen to me?
> Ratbat



There are several ways to overcome this problem. Allow me to list them:

1) use only grade a no.1 peas - a little more expensive but worth it
2) use the jolly green giant variety, not the little green sprout
3) there is no third method
4) remove your legs and put them in the freezer for two hours before
performing the dance.
5) if the peas are melting too fast, you may not need to do the dance at all
6) someone suggested replacing the peas with 100 angry fire ants, but I haven't tried it myself yet. He now has 8 children, but speaks in a very high voice
7) the seventh method guarantees success without discomfort
8) in a 4 litre bowl, pour in 2 cups water, 3 cups vodka, 1 package peas flavoured gelatin; stir and place in freezer for two hours. strap bowl to lower buttocks/scrotum area
9) perform the dance in a walk-in freezer (as long as it still faces
north east and there is still a full moon outside)
10) perform the 'Peas Frozen to the Scrotum' dance prior to the
fertility dance

I hope one of these works for you....and good luck!

Helpful Hints -2

Ogr81 did etch-A-sketch the following remarkable information:

If you're doing the boola-boola fertility dance, and the bog newts keep falling out of your nostrils, try using fibraglass-resin epoxy instead of the traditional muscox pancreas, frog spit mixture. It is easier to purchase and it works!
Ratbat Responded:Thanks for the info I'll try it :O) While on the subject of the boola-boola fertility dance, the bag of Pea's frozen to my genitals keeps defrosting whilst i'm dancing, how can i keep them frozen to me?
> Ratbat



There are several ways to overcome this problem. Allow me to list them:

1) use only grade a no.1 peas - a little more expensive but worth it
2) use the jolly green giant variety, not the little green sprout
3) there is no third method
4) remove your legs and put them in the freezer for two hours before
performing the dance.
5) if the peas are melting too fast, you may not need to do the dance at all
6) someone suggested replacing the peas with 100 angry fire ants, but I haven't tried it myself yet. He now has 8 children, but speaks in a very high voice
7) the seventh method guarantees success without discomfort
8) in a 4 litre bowl, pour in 2 cups water, 3 cups vodka, 1 package peas flavoured gelatin; stir and place in freezer for two hours. strap bowl to lower buttocks/scrotum area
9) perform the dance in a walk-in freezer (as long as it still faces
north east and there is still a full moon outside)
10) perform the 'Peas Frozen to the Scrotum' dance prior to the
fertility dance

I hope one of these works for you....and good luck!

Helpful Hints -1

If you have to move, and you have a heavy computer, delete all the files and the computer will be much lighter!

The Matrix -Movie Review

No animals were harmed in the making of this letter

Ogr81 alit from the belfry as the sun set. Ignoring all else; the panda wrestling with the penguin over a pencil (nothing makes you want to go pee first thing in the morning then that), the incesant dripping of champagne from a recently over-turned bottle as a guilty chimpanzee runs and hides, the squawking from the lady next door....he headed straight for his information processing device. Grabbing a snoot full of muffin mix, he proceded to call his chimp companion pleasantly. Unbeknowest to the curious primate, oh....okay....this line doesn't really go anywhere....I just want to use the word unbeknowest. Approaching warily, Walden was met with a great splotch of muffin mix directly in the face.
Having been assaulted thus, it really burned the chimps ass. It dove at Ogr81 with fervent determination.
Expecting such an outcome, he ducked out of the way just in time, and Walden sailed past, into his cage. Well...to Walden it was a cage.
But it was also a source for energy. Every rope and ladder was
connected to a piston worm-drive turbine that reacted to the slightest tug; its' running wheel and merry-go-round (like everything) were connected, eventually, to an alternator of an old VW microbus, then an batteries, and inverter and deeper and deeper the strange machinizations of his madness weaved, until total madness was required to understand it all. Suffice it to say...
He threw the tomato into the sausage maker quickly, before the
custard set, and released the chipmunk.
Judging from the individual sounds of the caucophony; the enraged chimp, the amplified rice crispies, the toot-tooting of the steam release valve, the ringing of the McPerson strut as it hit against the Mobis strip, the whistling of something somewhere, he wasn't sure, but emenating near the bizarre kind of duck-call sound; everything was ready!
He pulled down on an over-sized leaver and waited for the resulting status signal.
Suddenly Pink Floyd began playing: I know a mouse and he hasn't got a house I don't know why I call him Gerald...
Something was wrong. He quickly rolled the sheet of zinc from the nickel nitrate and pondered over the quandry.........................................................

................................................................

...........................................................AH HAH! The hedge hog still had the fish!
He quickly rectified the situation and....

Honey...doo doo doo doo doo doo
Oh sugar...doo doo doo doo doo doo

Success! He lowered his safety glasses, put on his hard hat and kicked his information processing device. The pig squealed. He
re-kicked it, and all the drivers loaded successfully.
The poodle farted. One more step and he was on-line!

Clap on!

Ogr81 wrote,

Ah-HAH! I just figured this internet thing out!
It's all just a fancy software program that makes you believe you're
on-line, when in reality your actually just communicating with random software generated Pokemons! When you're (although now I know that you don't actually exist) typing away at on the irc... guess what bud, (although now I know that bud is but an avatar; {mental note; Avatar - good name for the baby}) you got sucked into believing there was really a person on the other end. The web: how aptly named hitherto (I just lucked out getting to use the word 'hitherto,' honest!)...indeed it is a web. A WEB OF DECEIT!
Oooo, good morning Mr. Www, good morning Mr. Hittip, if that's your real name! I got you figured out!
Oh, error 404, page not retrieved. You mean, "Give me time to
figure this one out," don't you Hal!
Oh, Java script error. What do you take me for! Why don't you
just say, "I don't feel like exerting the energy right now, settle for text!"
Oh, this page is secure for credit cards. You swarmy, loathesome, smug, bastards!
You almost got me on that one. I admit it. But lucky for me, they don't accept fresh figs as currency. So you could have screamed, "Come into my parlor!" until you were microhard and I still wouldn't cross through those gates!
........................
Okay. I'm assuming that what I'm writing is real, but if I'm
wrong............ahhhhh..................
And the newsgroups. PLEEEEEEEease. If the phrase, "Don't get me started!" wasn't already copyrighted by syndicate Transendal Vegetation, I'ld use it, by jiminy! (Mental note: Jiminy - good name for the baby)
I thought it aggrivating when I was kicked out of my first
newsgroup.....I was slightly more aggitated when kicked from my second newsgroup, despite all efforts of research into proper internet protocol.
At ten newsgroups, my self esteem was some-what be-rated.
But I watched as you didn't stop there. Oh no. Obviously your not Eddy the happy ship-board computer. No. You had to keep going, didn't you! Until you saw to it, that I was for some reason or another, kicked out of every friggin newsgroup on the friggin information friggin highway. HeY! Don't make me use the word friggen again!
That's it!
Stress level is WAY up.
Gotta stop before I get into the so-called 'gaming' aspect of the so-called 'net'.
Besides, the Cossack Petunia bulb bin is too low to help the
Bosnian bilge extracor, but I'm not about to give up a basket o' figs to refill it, by carbonate! (Mental note: Sodium- good name for the baby)

Geez! My brain hurts!.....real or not...take it from me! Don't watch 'The Matrix' for the second time. Skip it and go right to the third time.

Ogr81 endured Pingu-gone-bad for hours uncounted. The leather cap, cape and whip was a contradictory sight with how angellic the penguin looked asleep. He tried to wake it, but it was just too fatigued. With a sigh he walked over to his typewriter, poured some petrol in it, topped it with internet ink, and turned the crank to ignite the engine:
From Trivia Pursuit, Genus IV, Canadian edition:
For a piece of blue pie: What will the eastern part of the Northwest Territories be called after it separates?

Someone Answered: cascadia ?

good one...but no

Late Payment Notice

Ogr81 wrote:


To the occupants of:
Earth
12 354 845 909 735b Outer Spiral Dr.
Milky Way

This is to notify you that the accounts receivable department of Sears/Starbuck has not yet received the payment of ^21.99 for the purchase of 1(one) Fissure Pride Ion Cannon -cat.# 098990767b. If payment was made but not yet processed, please disregard this notice.
If this amount is still unpaid, please pay it promptly.

Overdue Notice-2

This is to notify you that the Accounts Collectible Agent, after a
time-jump scan, has reported your purchase still unpaid twenty bleebs from now. If this account has been paid, you are lying. Please pay this outstanding amount the day after twenty bleebs to avoid Karmic processes taken against you.

Final Notice of Outstanding Bill

Another time-jump scan has revealed that the account is still
unpaid. A frieze will be put on all your Karmic Charm, and your planet liquidated unless your account is cleared in full. A plague was released fifteen snittles ago, in anticipation of this dilemma, as well as egological terrors. To avoid further persecution, please pay your account.

Notice of Termination of Service

After further investigation, we have discovered that there is no chance that you will ever pay up, so to cut our losses and at least enjoy the moment, we are going to torture you in the manner that we find most sickly pleasurable.

Thank you for your patronage.

Apology

Further time-scans have revealed the Fissure Pride Ion Cannon was actually delivered to a previous owner of that address. We regret any inconvenience this error may have caused. Have a nice day and don't forget to shop at Sears/Starbuck for all your back-to-school needs!

Dark Side of the Moon

Ogr81 wrote: Right then! Who ordered the Ion Cannon!? I'm not paying for it! If it's in that stash on the dark side of the moon, I know about it! So fess up!
Ben wrote: There is no dark side of the moon. The far side of the moon actually gets more light than the near side.
Someone Else Wrote: Okay. So how come it is so dark then?
Pete wrote: What makes you think it is dark?
Ben wrote: I could mean....metaphysically
Ogr81 wrote: I could be a rubber duck, but I'm not. No one is even going to contest my claim of it getting more light so that I can be real snooty and explain it to them?
Ben wrote: But how do you know the moon isn't wearing a huge pair of sunglasses on the other side?
Ogr81 wrote: Because it doesn't have a nose, so they would keep slipping down

Star Wars Review

Ogr81 overturned an old rotted wooden board in a garden and exposed a swarm of squirming worms, skittering silverfish and suddenly shy potato bugs. They were good for the garden, he knew, buttttttttt....
Stomp, stomp, stomp!
Having thoroughly squelched the mini underground culture, and
replacing the board, he returned to feeding the galaxies.
The Adelia-linear Spiral-arms were coming along nicely, he noticed as he aimed the hose at them, but the Climbing Falters were hopelessly entangled with wild Black-hole vines.
On the other side of a cracked angel-stone pathway, a decorative proton fountain was dry and over-run with the ghastly morose and grey of anti-matter. The Nebula garden was worse!
Suddenly he heard a voice from the chaos before the void!
"Hey you! What are you doing on my property!"
He quickly unscrewed the hose from his navel, picked up the basket of charma and figs he had knicked, and jumped over the garden wall. A farmer came running brandishing a Sears/Starbuck anti-light pitch-fork!
"And stay out! Damn hooligan!" he called after the tresspasser.
Ogr81 landed in a puddle of primordial ooze as he landed on the
other side of the wall, and the germs on his socks became sentient,
tickling his feet, until he had to take his old sneakers off as he ran through the chaos before the void.
Thinking he was safely out of harms way, he slowed his pace. Life emanated thickly from his breath as he panted.
He caught the smug sneer of the huka smoking caterpillar, and began to look suspiciously around for the reason for the sneer, when the farmer suddenly jumped out from behind a tree of irony and jammed the pitckfork against Ogr81s' abdomen.
"You're knicked!" the farmer exclaimed triumphantly. "I'll see
this one gets in front of the Emporer! you bastard no-goodnik!!"
* * * * *


Ogr81 was led shackled before the Emporer of the Force.
"Bonjour," He said flatly.
Ogr81 was unsure of proper ettiquette before someone of such
infinate omnipotence. "Hello, God, sir," he said unsuredly.
"Ah-ah-ah!" the Emporer chastised.
'O shit!' Ogr81 thought to himself. What had he done wrong!?
"A francais!" It said crossly.
"Pardon mois," he quickly apologized. "Bonjour."
God reached into a wire drum that was being spun by an angel,
where-in punishments written in crayon on stone tablets spun and
bounced. God read the punishment:
"Ogrande-un, allez a la cine es regardez 'Star Wars' es scrive un reportoire"
"O mallieur!!!"
* * * * *


Ogr81s' Obligatory Report to the Centred Omnipotent Emporer of the
Force:

I apologize for the tardiness of this report. I would have had it in earlier had it not been for unavoidable circumstances.
First off, no-one ever goes to such a forlorn area of the spiral arm when in the Milky Way, so getting there was a punishment in itself.
And when I finally found the friggin planet, the line-ups for the movie were outrageous! It took a month for me to get in!
As freak circumstances would have it, (or perhaps it was in your record of me,) I just happened to be on the planet when the first movie came out, and it made quite an impact on the denizens. But the one you have requested I review is actually called the first Star Wars. (It seems there is three trilogies, and the makers of the movies decided to start with the middle trilogy. I should point out that it is not an example of the human capacity to think non-linear, but rather a marketing ploy at best.)
I thought I had entered the wrong time era, for even the people
seemed to have stagnated in growth at first glance. The music, the
television, the clothing styles all reminded me of the time when I saw the first Star Wars movie. Had it not been for a robot with a brain the size of the planet, (which wasn't there the last time I was on earth,) I would have gone searching through time for the right Star Wars movie.
The people hadn't progressed at all culturally, as if the first movie marked the end of their last advancement, and they just kind of shimmied around on the evolutionary ladder waiting for something like the latest Star Wars movie to get up that next rung. If that is the case, then it'll be Disco for a few more decades for the sorry sods.
Anyway, I finally get to see it after an earth month of sold-out shows, and you could cut the ambience of expectation with a ginsu lazer-matic.
Buddy next to me, leaving the cram for tomorrows test behind, got drunk with his buds and was sentimentally reminiscing about when they had seen the first movie. On the other side sat a thirteen year old nerd, who sipped cola from a giant Phantom Menace cup.
There was a commercial, then somewhere between that and when
everyone started to leave, was the movie. It was really subtle, and it wasn't until the Ben Hur style chariot race I realized we were into it.
Everywhere on the screen were marketing ploys like pocks on pork. Here a computer game, there some action figure toys; Halloween costumes! cereal! cartoons! cosmetics! carpets!
All dialogue was served to sell some stock or setup some
anticipation for the next movie, not as a vehicle to move the plot
along, which is good, because the plot was lame at best. It almost
seems they try hard to keep it linear, and as the same ol', same'ol you get at any movie.
Get this: Their version of the Jedi, in all its' infinate wisdom, bets everything they have on a kid to win a race. HA! I thought it was funny they would refer to the slovenly, slack-jawed race of Jedians as the prime utilizers of the force, but to have them take such a risk because they were in such a bind was more like slap-stick than anything else.
And Yoda! Hello YODA!!! How old are you...how many millenia? And you still can't get a grasp of the English language, you mis-shapen bog newt! All knowledgable Jedi Knight my keister meester! Listen! Listen slowly and listen well. It is, "You must go," not, "Go you must!" Get a friggin translator!
No-where is there to be seen the slightest quark-crack of
three-dimensional thinking. Despite the slick graphics, everything on the screen could have been easily interpreted by something common-place on earth. The comic relief, (Chacha I think was its name) was a lose interpretation of a rastafarian lizard. The so-called Jedi headquarters was no more then a gentlemens club where they could have just as well been betting no-one could make it around the galaxy in eighty bleems
using only a cold-fusion balloon. The styles of architecture and
fashion were blurs and bytes of the most base styles found already on earth. If the first movie was any sight into the future at all, this, at best, was a hallucinagenic tour of earth.

Tits: The poem

Ogr81 tried to make out faces in the crowd at the smoke-filled cafe, but the spotlight blinded him. Hazy silouettes slightly different but allthe same, he figured, so he drew a heavy breath to begin:

To suckle life in purity
Like a milky white medium
That holds you there
weightless in mid-air
Where guilt and shame are lost

To judge individuality
Like a lose-eyed, leering letch
That helps define
a stronger spine
For dogs to sense the scent

They come in pairs
And each have a nip
Ooo-but what they are
These things they call tits

To feel at home
Nestled in your wifes breasts
It's so secure
And one thing for sure*
The ether fills your soul

To surf on the outer plane
As slick as siliconed stains
Where the thrill is lost
For a paltry cost
But it helps pass the day

If there were one
Then which would it be?
The one from mother
Or ego's intrigue?


*well....two things.....

re:Unifying Theory

It appears that the person was aware of that everything is relative to the perciever, and just hypothetically raising the possibity of all phenomona being unifiable. Although it is true that everything is relative to the perciver, the oxymoron would then actually be physics and/or trying to unravel something that is different from infinate perspectives. Although it is necessary to allow the possiblity of the non-existance of any type of bench-mark, at one point we must postulate within the realm of our knowledge, our time, and space; ie - although the unifying answer may be outside the scope of perception, we still have to work within the frame work of our limited imaginations.

Even though an equation may have the same answer when solved a billion times over by someone, another person could come along and do it completely different, and come up with a different answer. If he/she is the only person, is he/she wrong? A lot of people assume we are steadily looking for the truth, but the
possiblity also exists that the truth is drawing us toward it, despite all that is stead contrary. If you can't see the trees for the forest, how do you know which to bark up? Point is, you don't, but you do anyway. Because subjective questions seemingly need to be answered.

Also, it seemed you were assuming that the truth is subjective. Even if the perciever is, the truth, if it exists, would be unmovable in its' definition. It could not, by its' own definition, exsist by itself, (if it is true that in order
to be defined something else must define it) If you look at the christian theological perspective, the truth is light, defined by darkness; nobody knows if they're right but the truth. According to those who believe in the big bang, if they consider it true the universe began from highly concentrated matter; again nobody knows if they're right but the truth. Either examples has equal
possibilities of being the truth.

So the truth, being non-subjective, can be achieved through subjective assumptions, and if guessed correctly, would be undeniable.

A unifying principle, again, within the scope of infinate possiblities, therefore, may also exist.

I remember when growing up thinking that it was more logical to assume the possiblity of extra-terrestial life when looking at the equation with the infinity symbol in it, yet being careful when discussing it because most people still believed that the possibility was equated with a finate number, (their existance
on earth) Now, it is not so true. Although the truth is relative from our subjective perspective in that example, our perspective may now be closer to the truth.

The truth is not necessarily relative to the perciever, even if the perciever believes it to be.

Valentines Rhyme

At the time of year
When the hearts' hopes are acute
To hold a heart near
A reason to be
A need indeed!
Alive and vital
He sat before the looking glass
Wondering what life had construed

Sparks of Genius

Science has now proven that we, as a species, are getting dumber everyday...but don't know why they couldn't figure it out before.

y2k problem fixed

Ogr81 sat meditively with the look of grave consternation on his face.
Suddenly he dramatically removed his finger from his nose and exclaimed:

We can make the y2k problem go away by simply declaring the next new year to be called 1995a. (Puters will know it as 1995) This would also align us closer to the year Christ was born, taking into account the mistakes made when first calculating it. Then we would have five more years to deal with the problem.

Canux

Hugh Lauter Levin Associates, a publisher of fine illustrated books ( http://www.hlla.com/ ), is preparing for publication a large
illustrated book titled _Spectacular Canada_.
...we are still looking for an author (preferably Canadian) to write the text. If anyone on this newsgroup has any recommendations as to who might be able to do a good job writing such a book, your suggestions would be appreciated.

Ogr81 wrote;

If you want to sell any books, you should definately choose someone who will propagate the stereotypes of Canadians. Let's face it, we drilled our own little pigeon hole because no-one else would talk about us.
We suffer from the need to be noticed as a nation, but can't even get recognition from the countries next to us. So any time someone with the least bit of celebrity status does something that they claim is uniquely Canuck, we jump all over it and embrace it affectionately.

So why not have said book written to propagate even more Canadian myths.
For example: we have a holiday called Flatterday where everyone celebrates the close connection and protection we've had from the United States for all these years. When the Americans hear this, not only will they be flustered with vain pride, but feel a touch guilty about not really knowing Canada was its' own country. Meanwhile we hide our mouths with our hand so no-one can see us
giggling.
Or how 'bout this: we are a bilingual country - Innuit and Swahili.
We have the most geniuses and drunks per capita then the rest of the world.
We used to be a mosaic until we brutally beheaded all the non-pigmies and became a totalitarian tribe.
The word 'Canada' is actually pronounced 'OllywallybiscuitbarrelPING!' and means 'holder of the firmament' in Swahili, but when translated into English, it
means 'shoulder of the fundament', which doesn't really make any sense.
We put the letters 'ou' in words like 'colour' and the silent letters 'fu' in words like 'basefuball'...
If you put your mind to it, you can probably come up with a book chocked full 'a ton 'o stuff that would cast Canadians in a totally unrealistic and exotic light...
...the only problem is, no-one would read it but us.

Sad Apple

Z wrote:
>
> It keeps telling me how worthless it's life is now
> that I spend most of our time on the Internet. It
> says it has no reason to go on. I tried to cheer it
> up by running a few programs off line, but that
> didn't seem to help.

Ogr81 wrote,

There are several reasons your computer may be feeling blue. One may be an overabundance of microsoft software, which, when confronted with all the other types of software available on the net
just wants to be left alone.
Another problem your puter may have is defining a meaning for its' existance. Perhaps when confronted with all the information on the net, it saw its existance as futile, almost in an existential kind of way, and has become complacent with that absurdity. Perhaps if you confused it out of this complacency by putting up pictures of things that start with a cerain letter and .....oh....never mind....
Or perhaps you may want to upgrade your media card with the latest "cheerful" option, which has settings from 'pensive rainy day' to 'MANICALLY FREAKIN' FANATICALLY EXSTATIC!' I find the 'Everythings Groovy' setting is a happy medium, and not nearly as rude as the 'gay paris' setting.
Talk to your computer. Let it know your concerned. Reach out to it and really let it know its' not alone. Hug it. Tickle its' widdle hyphen until it's a tilden. Take it on walks or out for an evening on the town. Play dress-up games together, whatever, but you have to go that first mile for it. It needs you more then ever right now.
And finally, try a reboot. Hell, it works for me for just about everything.