My dark angel arrives
In the nick of time
On raven wings
To be with me on the edge
Of the abyss
Standing beside me
She holds my hand
In a death grip
And says
Hold on and look down
For I am with you
Let us dive together into
Oblivion
And I say
I will die with you some other day
But today
I love you more than death
And then I say
Chinese take out and a movie?
And my dark angel says
Yes.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Friday, September 8, 2017
Friday, August 26, 2016
The Plunger and the Toilet Brush
The Plunger and the Toilet Brush
(with apologies to Edward Lear)
The plunger and the toilet brush stood beside
A beautiful porcelain throne.
Though they rarely were used
They felt scorned and abused,
Their laments, an unbearable drone.
They complained of the bowl
Til the toilet paper roll
Gave response to their miserable plea,
"Stop being so whiny!
I have to wipe hindy!
You will not get pity from me,
From me,
From me,
No, you will not get pity from me."
Plunger said to the brush
"Before the next flush
I've an idea of what we must do.
Run away and be free!"
And the brush said, "Suits me,
for my bristles are smelly from poo!"
So they both sailed away
For a week and a day
Til they came to a tropical strand.
Any humans around
Used a hole in the ground
And then buried their feces in sand,
In sand,
In sand,
Yes, they buried their feces in sand.
As the weeks passed them by
Plunger said with a sigh,
"My convictions have taken a turn.
Though this island's a beauty
I still yearn for our duty
Of cleaning up doody and urine."
So they set off again
With a sail in the wind
Through the ocean and inlet and bay.
Going back to their home
By the porcelain throne
Where the two of them stand to this day,
This day,
This day,
Where the two of them stand to this day.
(with apologies to Edward Lear)
The plunger and the toilet brush stood beside
A beautiful porcelain throne.
Though they rarely were used
They felt scorned and abused,
Their laments, an unbearable drone.
They complained of the bowl
Til the toilet paper roll
Gave response to their miserable plea,
"Stop being so whiny!
I have to wipe hindy!
You will not get pity from me,
From me,
From me,
No, you will not get pity from me."
Plunger said to the brush
"Before the next flush
I've an idea of what we must do.
Run away and be free!"
And the brush said, "Suits me,
for my bristles are smelly from poo!"
So they both sailed away
For a week and a day
Til they came to a tropical strand.
Any humans around
Used a hole in the ground
And then buried their feces in sand,
In sand,
In sand,
Yes, they buried their feces in sand.
As the weeks passed them by
Plunger said with a sigh,
"My convictions have taken a turn.
Though this island's a beauty
I still yearn for our duty
Of cleaning up doody and urine."
So they set off again
With a sail in the wind
Through the ocean and inlet and bay.
Going back to their home
By the porcelain throne
Where the two of them stand to this day,
This day,
This day,
Where the two of them stand to this day.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
Harper on Love and Omelettes
The phone was ringing at 3:00 am.
I knew because I looked at my digital clock just after it started ringing.
It could only be Harper, because he is my only friend that calls me at 3:00 am. No human being should be doing anything at 3:00 am. You are either up too late or getting up too early. That is how normal human beings behave. But Harper has never behaved like a normal human being, so I picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"Harper?"
"Yes, it's me, sorry to wake you, but did you ever wonder about friendship?"
"Yes," I said, "I am wondering about friendship right now...do you know what time is it?"
"No, I don't know."
"Of course you don't."
"You ever wonder about friendship?"
"Yes, I already said I did."
"I have a problem," Harper said, "and I thought you could help me out as part of the friendship thing we do."
People often ask me about the "friendship thing that Harper and I do", because they find Harper difficult to be around for more than a handful of minutes. He is difficult, I won't deny an obvious truth. Still, if you have a Harper in your life, I suggest tuning into the tangled rambles they weave.
After a tough day of work, eight to fourteen hours of facing people who are stupid or crazy or cruel, I like to settle down and immerse myself in the experience of a conversation of ideas. This is my mental comfort food, words that are mystical, magical, abstract, obtuse, fractals of facets of Real Truth. When I crave mental white noise of the highest caliber, Harper is the best source I know. His words quiet me and I am comforted.
"What is your problem?" I asked.
"I think I am in love."
"Why is your love my problem?"
"Because I don't know if I am am in love and you probably do."
"Fair enough," I said, "Why do you think you are in love."
"Because I just flipped a woman a perfect omelette."
A moment of respectful silence from Harper and myself ensued, because a moment of respectful silence is what is appropriate for those people who understand the importance of flipping the perfect omelette. Flipping the perfect omelette is a labor of love, and flipping the perfect omelette for someone you love is the most perfect manifestation of simple and elegant and sublime and perfect love.
For those of you who don't understand, let me lay out the complete list of the challenges that await you. All of the decisions and permutations, the frustrations and barriers, the quintessential essence of flipping a perfect omelette.
Better yet, let me lay out for you Harper's description. I've had to listen to it at least a dozen times, so you all can certainly experience it once:
"Many decisions go into flipping the perfect omelette. First, you need to decide on two eggs or three, and then, you need to decide on how much salt and pepper to add, and then, you need to decide if you need to add a small amount of water or milk or nothing at all, because some people say that the eggs should be pure, and some people say the eggs should be fluffy, and some people say the eggs should be creamy, and then, you need to decide how to mix the eggs, because you can use a whisk, or a fork, and you can spend a lot of time, or a little bit of time, on the mixing process, and you can make the mixture bubbly or smooth, as I mentioned before, and the texture of the mixed eggs depends a lot on all of your previous decisions, but it doesn't end there, because then, you need to prepare the pan, probably a ceramic pan is best, because it is non-stick and easy to clean, but traditionalists love a cast iron, and there are lots of reasons why cast iron is both good and bad, but we need to keep focused on the task at hand, so, then, you need to select a good size, I have tried eight inch, and ten and one half inch, and twelve inch, and all three have pros and cons, but the eight inch gives you the most cooking and flipping control, and then, you need a nice thin and narrow spatula that can handle fragile items like eggs, and you need to select the heat of the burner, somewhere between medium and medium high, because eggs that cook too fast get rubbery, and eggs that aren't cooked enough are runny, and then, select butter, or cooking oil, or both, to add to the pan, and after the eggs start cooking, you need to decide if you will scrape the egg mixture with your spatula and let it settle, or if you will simply let it cook on its own, then, you need to decide if you will fold it over in half or in a three folds, and then, you need to decide if the middle will be wet or dry before the flip, but before all of that, you need to decide on the central ingredients, because some ingredients have more water and some ingredients have less, so you need to decide how wet the inside of your omelette is going to be, because no one likes a soggy omelette, and no one likes a dry omelette, so it has to be just perfect, which is to say that it is pale yellow, and not too brown, on the outside, and perfectly folded along whatever creases you decided upon earlier, which is not an easy thing to do if you mess up the flip, so you need a good flipping technique, flipping just with the spatula, or with both the spatula and the pan, and it needs to be firm on the outside, and tender on the inside, and all of the ingredients need to be nestled comfortably inside the well-cooked confines, and it need to look good, and smell good, and feel good while you are cutting it with a utensil, and feel good while you are chewing and swallowing it, and taste great...and that's it."
And that's it. The mastermind at work.
"Did she like it?" I asked.
"Like it?" Harper asked.
"Yes, did she enjoy the omelette that you prepared for her?"
"I don't know. Can you tell me how I would know that?"
"Did she eat it all and leave an empty plate?"
"Yes."
"Then she enjoyed eating the omelette."
There was a very long pause on the phone while Harper thought about this.
"She enjoys eating the omelette as much as I enjoy creating it?"
"Yes."
"The word 'enjoy' means the same thing for both of us?"
"Yes."
"You don't know that for sure. You are lying."
"Partially."
"Why are you partially lying?"
"Because you probably are in love and it is easier to agree with people who are in love than to argue with them."
"And..."
"And because I am half asleep and I really would like to be fully asleep again in the very near future."
"And..."
"And because, even on my best days, I don't know what love is."
"Why?"
"Because no human being knows exactly. It's just something you have to experience yourself."
"I'm not sure if you know this about me," Harper said, "but I'm not very good at just jumping into things without first doing a thorough analysis."
"I do know that about you, yes."
"And love is considerably more complex than an omelette."
"I believe, in most cases, that is correct."
Another long pause on the other side of the phone, then Harper hung up. Letting me go back to sleep was his way of showing his appreciation for my advice.
The love story does not last very long. Harper was slow to share his feelings although I imagine a considerable amount of thought went into them. I would inquire from time to time how things were going and received very little feedback for my efforts. The mystery lady was never revealed to me and one day, a few months later, she had faded away from his life.
Still, one has to crack a few eggs to make an omelette, and, in Harper's case, he just kept on cracking. His brief love affair, and the subsequent months after the breakup, provided me with some of the best impromptu brunches I have ever eaten: scrambled eggs with lobster, poached eggs topped with caviar, roasted asparagus and soft eggs on toast, crab cakes eggs benedict, huevos rancheros with shrimp, chipotle deviled eggs, curried egg salad with truffles, smoked salmon tarts, custards, flans, and creme brulees. It was a period of unbridled creative energy, completely unexpected, brilliantly executed, and absolutely delicious.
Then, one day, as I showed up at Harper's apartment, my mind spinning with the culinary possibilities of the humble egg, and he served me a cheese omelette.
"What's this?" I asked.
"It's a cheese omelette," Harper said.
"I know what it is..."
"I gave the matter a lot of thought," Harper said, "and I decided that I like omelettes best of all."
I nodded in agreement and began to eat. I like omelettes best of all, too.
I knew because I looked at my digital clock just after it started ringing.
It could only be Harper, because he is my only friend that calls me at 3:00 am. No human being should be doing anything at 3:00 am. You are either up too late or getting up too early. That is how normal human beings behave. But Harper has never behaved like a normal human being, so I picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"Harper?"
"Yes, it's me, sorry to wake you, but did you ever wonder about friendship?"
"Yes," I said, "I am wondering about friendship right now...do you know what time is it?"
"No, I don't know."
"Of course you don't."
"You ever wonder about friendship?"
"Yes, I already said I did."
"I have a problem," Harper said, "and I thought you could help me out as part of the friendship thing we do."
People often ask me about the "friendship thing that Harper and I do", because they find Harper difficult to be around for more than a handful of minutes. He is difficult, I won't deny an obvious truth. Still, if you have a Harper in your life, I suggest tuning into the tangled rambles they weave.
After a tough day of work, eight to fourteen hours of facing people who are stupid or crazy or cruel, I like to settle down and immerse myself in the experience of a conversation of ideas. This is my mental comfort food, words that are mystical, magical, abstract, obtuse, fractals of facets of Real Truth. When I crave mental white noise of the highest caliber, Harper is the best source I know. His words quiet me and I am comforted.
"What is your problem?" I asked.
"I think I am in love."
"Why is your love my problem?"
"Because I don't know if I am am in love and you probably do."
"Fair enough," I said, "Why do you think you are in love."
"Because I just flipped a woman a perfect omelette."
A moment of respectful silence from Harper and myself ensued, because a moment of respectful silence is what is appropriate for those people who understand the importance of flipping the perfect omelette. Flipping the perfect omelette is a labor of love, and flipping the perfect omelette for someone you love is the most perfect manifestation of simple and elegant and sublime and perfect love.
For those of you who don't understand, let me lay out the complete list of the challenges that await you. All of the decisions and permutations, the frustrations and barriers, the quintessential essence of flipping a perfect omelette.
Better yet, let me lay out for you Harper's description. I've had to listen to it at least a dozen times, so you all can certainly experience it once:
"Many decisions go into flipping the perfect omelette. First, you need to decide on two eggs or three, and then, you need to decide on how much salt and pepper to add, and then, you need to decide if you need to add a small amount of water or milk or nothing at all, because some people say that the eggs should be pure, and some people say the eggs should be fluffy, and some people say the eggs should be creamy, and then, you need to decide how to mix the eggs, because you can use a whisk, or a fork, and you can spend a lot of time, or a little bit of time, on the mixing process, and you can make the mixture bubbly or smooth, as I mentioned before, and the texture of the mixed eggs depends a lot on all of your previous decisions, but it doesn't end there, because then, you need to prepare the pan, probably a ceramic pan is best, because it is non-stick and easy to clean, but traditionalists love a cast iron, and there are lots of reasons why cast iron is both good and bad, but we need to keep focused on the task at hand, so, then, you need to select a good size, I have tried eight inch, and ten and one half inch, and twelve inch, and all three have pros and cons, but the eight inch gives you the most cooking and flipping control, and then, you need a nice thin and narrow spatula that can handle fragile items like eggs, and you need to select the heat of the burner, somewhere between medium and medium high, because eggs that cook too fast get rubbery, and eggs that aren't cooked enough are runny, and then, select butter, or cooking oil, or both, to add to the pan, and after the eggs start cooking, you need to decide if you will scrape the egg mixture with your spatula and let it settle, or if you will simply let it cook on its own, then, you need to decide if you will fold it over in half or in a three folds, and then, you need to decide if the middle will be wet or dry before the flip, but before all of that, you need to decide on the central ingredients, because some ingredients have more water and some ingredients have less, so you need to decide how wet the inside of your omelette is going to be, because no one likes a soggy omelette, and no one likes a dry omelette, so it has to be just perfect, which is to say that it is pale yellow, and not too brown, on the outside, and perfectly folded along whatever creases you decided upon earlier, which is not an easy thing to do if you mess up the flip, so you need a good flipping technique, flipping just with the spatula, or with both the spatula and the pan, and it needs to be firm on the outside, and tender on the inside, and all of the ingredients need to be nestled comfortably inside the well-cooked confines, and it need to look good, and smell good, and feel good while you are cutting it with a utensil, and feel good while you are chewing and swallowing it, and taste great...and that's it."
And that's it. The mastermind at work.
"Did she like it?" I asked.
"Like it?" Harper asked.
"Yes, did she enjoy the omelette that you prepared for her?"
"I don't know. Can you tell me how I would know that?"
"Did she eat it all and leave an empty plate?"
"Yes."
"Then she enjoyed eating the omelette."
There was a very long pause on the phone while Harper thought about this.
"She enjoys eating the omelette as much as I enjoy creating it?"
"Yes."
"The word 'enjoy' means the same thing for both of us?"
"Yes."
"You don't know that for sure. You are lying."
"Partially."
"Why are you partially lying?"
"Because you probably are in love and it is easier to agree with people who are in love than to argue with them."
"And..."
"And because I am half asleep and I really would like to be fully asleep again in the very near future."
"And..."
"And because, even on my best days, I don't know what love is."
"Why?"
"Because no human being knows exactly. It's just something you have to experience yourself."
"I'm not sure if you know this about me," Harper said, "but I'm not very good at just jumping into things without first doing a thorough analysis."
"I do know that about you, yes."
"And love is considerably more complex than an omelette."
"I believe, in most cases, that is correct."
Another long pause on the other side of the phone, then Harper hung up. Letting me go back to sleep was his way of showing his appreciation for my advice.
The love story does not last very long. Harper was slow to share his feelings although I imagine a considerable amount of thought went into them. I would inquire from time to time how things were going and received very little feedback for my efforts. The mystery lady was never revealed to me and one day, a few months later, she had faded away from his life.
Still, one has to crack a few eggs to make an omelette, and, in Harper's case, he just kept on cracking. His brief love affair, and the subsequent months after the breakup, provided me with some of the best impromptu brunches I have ever eaten: scrambled eggs with lobster, poached eggs topped with caviar, roasted asparagus and soft eggs on toast, crab cakes eggs benedict, huevos rancheros with shrimp, chipotle deviled eggs, curried egg salad with truffles, smoked salmon tarts, custards, flans, and creme brulees. It was a period of unbridled creative energy, completely unexpected, brilliantly executed, and absolutely delicious.
Then, one day, as I showed up at Harper's apartment, my mind spinning with the culinary possibilities of the humble egg, and he served me a cheese omelette.
"What's this?" I asked.
"It's a cheese omelette," Harper said.
"I know what it is..."
"I gave the matter a lot of thought," Harper said, "and I decided that I like omelettes best of all."
I nodded in agreement and began to eat. I like omelettes best of all, too.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Dark Humor for your Black Friday
Sometimes I have dark and twisted thoughts.
I imagine we probably all do from time to time.
The difference with me, however, is that I usually write them down.
If they aren't long enough to turn into an entry, I send them to my friend Phil, and he records himself reading my dark and twisted thoughts aloud in a very calm and sincere voice. Then, he sends the recording back to me and I slap on some animated words and a musical track by Schumann and post them on a YouTube channel called Phizzy Essence.
Here's one of our Phizzy Essence videos to get you all into a Black Friday mood:
I imagine we probably all do from time to time.
The difference with me, however, is that I usually write them down.
If they aren't long enough to turn into an entry, I send them to my friend Phil, and he records himself reading my dark and twisted thoughts aloud in a very calm and sincere voice. Then, he sends the recording back to me and I slap on some animated words and a musical track by Schumann and post them on a YouTube channel called Phizzy Essence.
Here's one of our Phizzy Essence videos to get you all into a Black Friday mood:
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Typical Morning Thoughts
The day starts like any other day and I am up when I am up and my mind reboots into reality and what a harsh reality it can be.
But today is the day and I am going to live in the moment and not let my past make me cringe in regret and I am not going to let my future loom before me in a messy mass of uncertainty and worry and fear.
I am not perfect, but I am going to be the best person I can be, the full package, not perfect, but not the worst, perhaps a bit quirky, I mean, it's not like I am crazy or dangerous or anything, although I do spend a lot of time talking to myself, but...
Today is my day, and today I am going to utilize my energy and time in positive ways, aside from the nine hours of work and the eight hours of sleep and the hour or two of commute time and...
Wait...what does that add up to?
Nine and eight and two and...did I include eating? I have to include eating, I'm not a machine, for crying out loud. I can't just go full throttle and not eat, I might pass out at work...
Gotta get to work...wait...what time it is?
Is that clock set to the correct time or is that the clock I set twenty minutes ahead to make sure that I am never late? Should I be recalculating the time like that? I shouldn't, right? That defeats the purpose of setting it forward.
Holy crap! Is that the TIME!?
Wait...no, that's the stove clock I forgot to set backwards for Daylight Savings Time. Almost gave myself a heart attack, which is probably not far off in my future at the rate I am going. I need to exercise more. I should eat better food.
Who ever sets the stove clock anyway? I guess it got set at some point. It doesn't blink 12:00 like the microwave.
Why does the microwave have so many buttons and features? Has anyone used the "soften" button in the history of microwaves with a "soften" button? Whatever happened to simple elegance in interface design?
The toilet. Simple design. One control. One result. Unless it gets plugged. Then, it has two possible results. I don't like the second result.
I should probably set the microwave clock.
How do I set the microwave clock?
I should probably set the stove clock.
How do I set the stove clock?
Why does my kitchen smell weird? Is it onions? Did I cook something with onions last night? Was it the night before?
Why do we even eat onions, they smell horrible! Whose responsible for eating the first onion? Who would want to do that? Did they just eat a raw onion like an apple and conclude, with that strong and harsh flavor, that onions weren't poisonous?
Is it rotten chicken? Did I cook chicken this week?
I should run the garbage disposal. I should squirt dish soap in first and then run the garbage disposal.
Is there anything in the garbage disposal that I can't see? Like a spoon? Will it break if I turn it on? How can I tell? Should I reach in?
What if I was reaching into the garbage disposal and the power surged in some weird way and the garbage disposal turned on and chopped up my hand? What would I do? Is that normal to think about having my hand chopped up in the garbage disposal? Do other people think about losing their hand in a garbage disposal or am I just weird?
No, I'm not weird. I'm...actually...I'm lucky...I should feel lucky. I have a good job and both of my hands and I am fairly healthy and I'm not dead, yet. That's pretty good. Especially the death part.
Assuming that death is worse than existence, that is. Which it might not be. I mean, it's either pure love or non-existence or reincarnation...or Hell, but, come on, that seems a bit pessimistic, even for me, so it's probably reincarnation because that's the most difficult one to deal with once you throw Hell out of the mix.
That would just figure, right? Billions of years...over and over...of...this...
Plus, who knows? Why should I even be reincarnated as a human? Why should it even be on Earth? Maybe I will end up as a pile of intelligent orange goo on some distant planet in some distant galaxy. There's an awful lot of space in space. I could be anything, anywhere, at any time. Would the quality of my life be better or worse?
Quality of life is important. I have a good quality of life. I'm lucky, really.
My quality of life would definitely be worse if I chopped off my hand. I will just run the garbage disposal without checking.
Smells better. Must have been rotten chicken in the garbage disposal.
I should try to find the manual for the stove clock.
It's getting late, I have to get going. I have to get to work. That was a waste of time. Completely unproductive. Maybe I can make up the time on my lunch break.
Where's my lunch?
My coffee? My keys? My wallet? My shaver? My jacket? My book? My snack? My water?
Where's that thing that I am going to forget until I start driving for about five minutes?
Got 'em.
Gotta get going. Gotta go. Gotta get through this day. Gotta make it count.
Life...it's still there.
But today is the day and I am going to live in the moment and not let my past make me cringe in regret and I am not going to let my future loom before me in a messy mass of uncertainty and worry and fear.
I am not perfect, but I am going to be the best person I can be, the full package, not perfect, but not the worst, perhaps a bit quirky, I mean, it's not like I am crazy or dangerous or anything, although I do spend a lot of time talking to myself, but...
Today is my day, and today I am going to utilize my energy and time in positive ways, aside from the nine hours of work and the eight hours of sleep and the hour or two of commute time and...
Wait...what does that add up to?
Nine and eight and two and...did I include eating? I have to include eating, I'm not a machine, for crying out loud. I can't just go full throttle and not eat, I might pass out at work...
Gotta get to work...wait...what time it is?
Is that clock set to the correct time or is that the clock I set twenty minutes ahead to make sure that I am never late? Should I be recalculating the time like that? I shouldn't, right? That defeats the purpose of setting it forward.
Holy crap! Is that the TIME!?
Wait...no, that's the stove clock I forgot to set backwards for Daylight Savings Time. Almost gave myself a heart attack, which is probably not far off in my future at the rate I am going. I need to exercise more. I should eat better food.
Who ever sets the stove clock anyway? I guess it got set at some point. It doesn't blink 12:00 like the microwave.
Why does the microwave have so many buttons and features? Has anyone used the "soften" button in the history of microwaves with a "soften" button? Whatever happened to simple elegance in interface design?
The toilet. Simple design. One control. One result. Unless it gets plugged. Then, it has two possible results. I don't like the second result.
I should probably set the microwave clock.
How do I set the microwave clock?
I should probably set the stove clock.
How do I set the stove clock?
Why does my kitchen smell weird? Is it onions? Did I cook something with onions last night? Was it the night before?
Why do we even eat onions, they smell horrible! Whose responsible for eating the first onion? Who would want to do that? Did they just eat a raw onion like an apple and conclude, with that strong and harsh flavor, that onions weren't poisonous?
Is it rotten chicken? Did I cook chicken this week?
I should run the garbage disposal. I should squirt dish soap in first and then run the garbage disposal.
Is there anything in the garbage disposal that I can't see? Like a spoon? Will it break if I turn it on? How can I tell? Should I reach in?
What if I was reaching into the garbage disposal and the power surged in some weird way and the garbage disposal turned on and chopped up my hand? What would I do? Is that normal to think about having my hand chopped up in the garbage disposal? Do other people think about losing their hand in a garbage disposal or am I just weird?
No, I'm not weird. I'm...actually...I'm lucky...I should feel lucky. I have a good job and both of my hands and I am fairly healthy and I'm not dead, yet. That's pretty good. Especially the death part.
Assuming that death is worse than existence, that is. Which it might not be. I mean, it's either pure love or non-existence or reincarnation...or Hell, but, come on, that seems a bit pessimistic, even for me, so it's probably reincarnation because that's the most difficult one to deal with once you throw Hell out of the mix.
That would just figure, right? Billions of years...over and over...of...this...
Plus, who knows? Why should I even be reincarnated as a human? Why should it even be on Earth? Maybe I will end up as a pile of intelligent orange goo on some distant planet in some distant galaxy. There's an awful lot of space in space. I could be anything, anywhere, at any time. Would the quality of my life be better or worse?
Quality of life is important. I have a good quality of life. I'm lucky, really.
My quality of life would definitely be worse if I chopped off my hand. I will just run the garbage disposal without checking.
Smells better. Must have been rotten chicken in the garbage disposal.
I should try to find the manual for the stove clock.
It's getting late, I have to get going. I have to get to work. That was a waste of time. Completely unproductive. Maybe I can make up the time on my lunch break.
Where's my lunch?
My coffee? My keys? My wallet? My shaver? My jacket? My book? My snack? My water?
Where's that thing that I am going to forget until I start driving for about five minutes?
Got 'em.
Gotta get going. Gotta go. Gotta get through this day. Gotta make it count.
Life...it's still there.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Show Compassion
In a time before now...
In a place not here...
Master Chen and Foo...
SHOW COMPASSION
Warrior sage Master Chen was lecturing to his apprentice Foo on the virtues
of compassion when Foo interupted him.
"Master," said Foo, "I do not understand compassion."
"Foo, you do not understand anything," said Master Chen, "But you understand
that you do not understand, so ask your questions."
"Master," said Foo, "you say that we must have compassion for all living things."
"That is correct," said Master Chen.
"Plants and animals are living things," said Foo.
"That is also correct," said Master Chen.
"If I show compassion to all living things," said Foo, "I cannot harm or kill
any plants or animals. But then I will have nothing to eat. So what do I do?"
"Foo," said Master Chen, "are you asking me if you should starve yourself to
death in order to be compassionate?"
"Yes," said Foo, "I am."
"Yes, Foo," said Master Chen, "You should starve yourself to death."
Foo sat in stunned silence as the Master continued.
"Also, let poisonous snakes bite you, let wild animals eat you alive, let greedy
people take everything you have, and let one or more psychotic killers stab you
in the face multiple times."
And Foo was enlightened slightly more than he was before.
"Foo," said Master Chen, "You have that stupid enlightenment expression
on your stupid face again. You aren't enlightened, stupid, so just stop being
stupid...stupid!"
"But Master," said Foo, "Are you not teaching me that my questions are
foolish, and that every virtue must be judged and balanced by wisdom?"
"No," said Master Chen, "I literally just want you to die and leave me in
peace. If I had my sword with me I would...CUT OFF YOUR HEAD!...but I left my
sword at home...and I am feeling a bit bloated and gassy...not really in a
head-chopping mood...so, today, you must kill YOURSELF with compassion."
"Oh, master," said Foo, "I love you, too."
"That's it," said Master Chen, rising to his feet, "I'm getting my sword."
So ends the lesson of SHOW COMPASSION.
In a place not here...
Master Chen and Foo...
SHOW COMPASSION
Warrior sage Master Chen was lecturing to his apprentice Foo on the virtues
of compassion when Foo interupted him.
"Master," said Foo, "I do not understand compassion."
"Foo, you do not understand anything," said Master Chen, "But you understand
that you do not understand, so ask your questions."
"Master," said Foo, "you say that we must have compassion for all living things."
"That is correct," said Master Chen.
"Plants and animals are living things," said Foo.
"That is also correct," said Master Chen.
"If I show compassion to all living things," said Foo, "I cannot harm or kill
any plants or animals. But then I will have nothing to eat. So what do I do?"
"Foo," said Master Chen, "are you asking me if you should starve yourself to
death in order to be compassionate?"
"Yes," said Foo, "I am."
"Yes, Foo," said Master Chen, "You should starve yourself to death."
Foo sat in stunned silence as the Master continued.
"Also, let poisonous snakes bite you, let wild animals eat you alive, let greedy
people take everything you have, and let one or more psychotic killers stab you
in the face multiple times."
And Foo was enlightened slightly more than he was before.
"Foo," said Master Chen, "You have that stupid enlightenment expression
on your stupid face again. You aren't enlightened, stupid, so just stop being
stupid...stupid!"
"But Master," said Foo, "Are you not teaching me that my questions are
foolish, and that every virtue must be judged and balanced by wisdom?"
"No," said Master Chen, "I literally just want you to die and leave me in
peace. If I had my sword with me I would...CUT OFF YOUR HEAD!...but I left my
sword at home...and I am feeling a bit bloated and gassy...not really in a
head-chopping mood...so, today, you must kill YOURSELF with compassion."
"Oh, master," said Foo, "I love you, too."
"That's it," said Master Chen, rising to his feet, "I'm getting my sword."
So ends the lesson of SHOW COMPASSION.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
The subtle art of saying nothing
There are a lot of things I know but there will always be more things that I don't know.
I accept my ignorance because I understand that existence is a complex process and human beings are complex creatures and societies are complex organizations and I am stuck right in the middle of it all and I am never going to fully comprehend any of it.
To deal with all of this complexity, we accept a lot of simple opinions and ideas without questioning and researching what they really mean. These ideas become our intellectual equivalence of browsing a greeting card aisle to avoid the time and effort of expressing ourselves through our own original thoughts and words.
Bumper sticker intellect.
Shrink-wrapped and fun-sized opinions.
They are mobile and convenient and a perfect accessory for that busy person on the go.
I understand.
People want to have opinions because no one wants to look foolish, although "foolish" is a word often substituted for "ignorant", which is not the same as "foolish". If you did not know this, you are not foolish, just ignorant. If you are insulted that I just called you ignorant, go look up the definition of the word "ignorant", because, if you don't, and you continue to believe that I just insulted you by calling you ignorant, that's foolish.
The good news is we can address ignorance by putting in time and effort, and utilizing the proper resources, to reach a well-informed opinion. Before doing that, however, take the time to decide if you really are passionate about an idea. If you don't care about an idea, you don't have to have an opinion. I know it feels like you should have an opinion, but you really, really don't.
Just accept your ignorance and truthfully say: "I don't know".
Or perhaps: "I don't have an opinion."
Or even: "Hmmmm..."
which is an effective, noncommittal way of moving a conversation forward if you happen to be stuck talking to a person discussing a topic on which you have no interest nor opinion. It's bound to happen time and time again.
And even if you have a well-informed opinion you still might want to consider using these noncommittal conversational techniques, because most people don't want to hear about your well-informed opinions, and have very strong opinions about where your well-informed opinions should go, particularly if they are opposed to their own opinions. Revealing, or even feigning, your ignorance will allow the other person to continue to express their opinions, without you having to agree or disagree with them, which will make you appear more intelligent and interesting.
In this way, a paradox is born in which ignorance becomes knowledge and apathy becomes compassion and silence becomes intellect and wisdom and power, and all you have to do is say nothing.
Which sounds easy...but is a surprisingly difficult thing for people to do.
I accept my ignorance because I understand that existence is a complex process and human beings are complex creatures and societies are complex organizations and I am stuck right in the middle of it all and I am never going to fully comprehend any of it.
To deal with all of this complexity, we accept a lot of simple opinions and ideas without questioning and researching what they really mean. These ideas become our intellectual equivalence of browsing a greeting card aisle to avoid the time and effort of expressing ourselves through our own original thoughts and words.
Bumper sticker intellect.
Shrink-wrapped and fun-sized opinions.
They are mobile and convenient and a perfect accessory for that busy person on the go.
I understand.
People want to have opinions because no one wants to look foolish, although "foolish" is a word often substituted for "ignorant", which is not the same as "foolish". If you did not know this, you are not foolish, just ignorant. If you are insulted that I just called you ignorant, go look up the definition of the word "ignorant", because, if you don't, and you continue to believe that I just insulted you by calling you ignorant, that's foolish.
The good news is we can address ignorance by putting in time and effort, and utilizing the proper resources, to reach a well-informed opinion. Before doing that, however, take the time to decide if you really are passionate about an idea. If you don't care about an idea, you don't have to have an opinion. I know it feels like you should have an opinion, but you really, really don't.
Just accept your ignorance and truthfully say: "I don't know".
Or perhaps: "I don't have an opinion."
Or even: "Hmmmm..."
which is an effective, noncommittal way of moving a conversation forward if you happen to be stuck talking to a person discussing a topic on which you have no interest nor opinion. It's bound to happen time and time again.
And even if you have a well-informed opinion you still might want to consider using these noncommittal conversational techniques, because most people don't want to hear about your well-informed opinions, and have very strong opinions about where your well-informed opinions should go, particularly if they are opposed to their own opinions. Revealing, or even feigning, your ignorance will allow the other person to continue to express their opinions, without you having to agree or disagree with them, which will make you appear more intelligent and interesting.
In this way, a paradox is born in which ignorance becomes knowledge and apathy becomes compassion and silence becomes intellect and wisdom and power, and all you have to do is say nothing.
Which sounds easy...but is a surprisingly difficult thing for people to do.
Friday, October 17, 2014
Love is blind
The other day, I saw an auxiliary sticker on a vial of Viagra.
Please note that, while the sticker I read did reside on a vial of Viagra, it was not my vial of Viagra.
The sticker was a warning about using Viagra and it read as follows:
Are they having sex and going blind, and then choosing not to immediately contact a doctor?
If so, let's hope they aren't having sex to reproduce.
Please note that, while the sticker I read did reside on a vial of Viagra, it was not my vial of Viagra.
The sticker was a warning about using Viagra and it read as follows:
Report any sudden loss of vision to your doctor immediately.Are there people out there who actually need this advice?
Are they having sex and going blind, and then choosing not to immediately contact a doctor?
If so, let's hope they aren't having sex to reproduce.
The contemplation of douchebags
In a time before now...
In a place not here...
Master Chen and Foo...
CONTEMPLATE DOUCHEBAGS
Warrior sage Master Chen was walking in his gardens when his apprentice, Foo, ran up to him and exclaimed, "Master! One of the other apprentices just called me a douchebag!"
"Foo," said Master Chen, "You are lazy, dull, annoying, stupid, smelly, and, most recently, a big, fat tattletale...but you are definitely NOT a douchebag."
"Master," said Foo, "What is a douchebag?"
"Traditionally," said Master Chen, "It is a feminine hygiene product for when women aren't feeling so fresh. But it is also a slang term for a person who is very much unenlightened."
"But master," said Foo, "How can a feminine hygiene product be the same as an unenlightened soul? Is it a paradox?"
"No," said Master Chen, "It is just a very poorly chosen word, most likely invented by a douchebag. Unfortunately, we haven't come up with anything better."
"I understand, master," said Foo.
"Now, Foo," said Master Chen, "It is time for you to learn the four noble truths of douchebags..."
"NOBLE TRUTH NUMBER ONE! All of life is suffering and all of suffering comes from dealing with douchebags."
"NOBLE TRUTH NUMBER TWO! Some douchebags are born and some are made, some are young and some are old, some are men and some are women, and, at all times, all the world is filled with douchebags."
"NOBLE TRUTH NUMBER THREE! The best way to deal with douchebags is to...CUT OFF THEIR HEADS!"
"But master," Foo said, "Surely there is a better way to deal with douchebags besides cutting off their heads."
"No, Foo, there is not." said Master Chen, "Let me tell you a story."
"I once had an apprentice who was a big douchebag but, still, I taught him."
"I taught him to be kind and loving, so that he would receive kindness and love in return."
"I taught him to be patient, so that he would never again be a victim of his self-destructive anger."
"I taught him to be humble, so that he could appreciate what he had and so he would never suffer from humiliation."
"And the apprentice understood and was enlightened, so I...CUT OFF HIS HEAD!"
"But Master," said Foo, "If the apprentice was enlightened, why did you cut off his head?"
"Because of NOBLE TRUTH NUMBER FOUR! The only thing worse than a douchebag is an enlightened douchebag."
And Foo, who was not a douchebag, was enlightened slightly more than he was before.
So ends the lesson of CONTEMPLATE DOUCHEBAGS.
In a place not here...
Master Chen and Foo...
CONTEMPLATE DOUCHEBAGS
Warrior sage Master Chen was walking in his gardens when his apprentice, Foo, ran up to him and exclaimed, "Master! One of the other apprentices just called me a douchebag!"
"Foo," said Master Chen, "You are lazy, dull, annoying, stupid, smelly, and, most recently, a big, fat tattletale...but you are definitely NOT a douchebag."
"Master," said Foo, "What is a douchebag?"
"Traditionally," said Master Chen, "It is a feminine hygiene product for when women aren't feeling so fresh. But it is also a slang term for a person who is very much unenlightened."
"But master," said Foo, "How can a feminine hygiene product be the same as an unenlightened soul? Is it a paradox?"
"No," said Master Chen, "It is just a very poorly chosen word, most likely invented by a douchebag. Unfortunately, we haven't come up with anything better."
"I understand, master," said Foo.
"Now, Foo," said Master Chen, "It is time for you to learn the four noble truths of douchebags..."
"NOBLE TRUTH NUMBER ONE! All of life is suffering and all of suffering comes from dealing with douchebags."
"NOBLE TRUTH NUMBER TWO! Some douchebags are born and some are made, some are young and some are old, some are men and some are women, and, at all times, all the world is filled with douchebags."
"NOBLE TRUTH NUMBER THREE! The best way to deal with douchebags is to...CUT OFF THEIR HEADS!"
"But master," Foo said, "Surely there is a better way to deal with douchebags besides cutting off their heads."
"No, Foo, there is not." said Master Chen, "Let me tell you a story."
"I once had an apprentice who was a big douchebag but, still, I taught him."
"I taught him to be kind and loving, so that he would receive kindness and love in return."
"I taught him to be patient, so that he would never again be a victim of his self-destructive anger."
"I taught him to be humble, so that he could appreciate what he had and so he would never suffer from humiliation."
"And the apprentice understood and was enlightened, so I...CUT OFF HIS HEAD!"
"But Master," said Foo, "If the apprentice was enlightened, why did you cut off his head?"
"Because of NOBLE TRUTH NUMBER FOUR! The only thing worse than a douchebag is an enlightened douchebag."
And Foo, who was not a douchebag, was enlightened slightly more than he was before.
So ends the lesson of CONTEMPLATE DOUCHEBAGS.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
True blue
If I was a blueberry, I think I would be upset that the first artificial blue flavorings were assigned to the blue raspberry.
I bet the blueberries thought they were a shoo-in because it's not like there are a lot of other blue foods out there providing competition.
No one is going to eat a flavored ice pop, or a hard candy, that tastes like cheese or potatoes or corn chips.
At best, blue raspberries are only half-blooded blue fruits, talentless posers that stole and exploited all of the best aspects of the blueberry species.
It is important to get the right berry for the job, but sometimes a blueberry has to be realistic, and play that race card for all it is worth.
I bet the blueberries thought they were a shoo-in because it's not like there are a lot of other blue foods out there providing competition.
No one is going to eat a flavored ice pop, or a hard candy, that tastes like cheese or potatoes or corn chips.
At best, blue raspberries are only half-blooded blue fruits, talentless posers that stole and exploited all of the best aspects of the blueberry species.
It is important to get the right berry for the job, but sometimes a blueberry has to be realistic, and play that race card for all it is worth.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
The cow says...
The original idea for the Master Chen and Foo series came from a koan that I wrote. My koan is a spoof of a Japanese Zen koan called Joshu's Dog which goes something like this:
A monk asked Joshu, a Chinese Zen master: "Has a dog Buddha-nature or not?"
Joshu answered: "Mu."
Whether or not you fully understand the meaning of the koan might be relevant to your spiritual life, but is not relevant to understanding my koan. My koan relies only on wordplay and it goes like this:
Joshu, a Chinese Zen master, asked a cow: "Has a cow Buddha-nature or not?"
The cow said: "Mu."
I called the koan "Joshu's Cow" and I would tell it to people and nobody understood it because it is a pun on an obscure allusion to a riddle that has no answer. That's a lot of responsibility to heap upon an unsuspecting victim who just happens to be standing next to me at a party, attempting to dip his broccoli floret into the only available bowl of ranch dressing.
It reminds me of another riddle I wrote involving Arnold Schwarzenegger and healthcare and it goes like this:
Q: Why did Arnold Schwarzenegger have to take allopurinol?
A: Gout!
This riddle doesn't work very well in written form because the answer must be said using an Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation so that it sounds a bit more like:
"GEEEEE-YOWWWTT!!"
Really, the only funny part of the riddle is the impersonation because, without the correct voice, the answer to the riddle simply becomes a medical fact followed by an exclamation point. Informative, and mildly startling, but not funny.
The riddle can't be written without losing the meaning of the answer. The riddle cannot be told by someone who cannot do a Schwarzenegger impersonation. The riddle cannot be understood by anyone who does not understand that allopurinol is a drug that reduces the amount of uric acid in the blood and is commonly used for the prevention of gout. In fact, the only way to explain the meaning of the riddle to an uninitiated listener is to tell the person the answer to the riddle before you have asked it.
It is a bad riddle on many, many levels.
The upshot is I learned that, while I am not very good at writing jokes and riddles that are understandable and funny, I am good at writing elaborate explanations as to why they are not understandable and funny, as well as why they should be understandable and funny if only the rest of humanity wasn't so stubborn about persistently being themselves, and would all just become me instead.
I am good at these things because I am passionate about finding complex connections between seemingly disparate ideas. It makes me happy to mix the highbrow and the lowbrow, the intellectual and the moronic, the profound and the banal, the serious and the satirical, because this is what is inside of me and what I need to express.
I have not yet learned how to express all of this within the simple and elegant context of a joke or riddle. Instead, I created Master Chen and Foo to serve this purpose. So, here it is, the very first Master Chen and Foo, based off of the koan "Joshu's Cow".
In a time before now...
A monk asked Joshu, a Chinese Zen master: "Has a dog Buddha-nature or not?"
Joshu answered: "Mu."
Whether or not you fully understand the meaning of the koan might be relevant to your spiritual life, but is not relevant to understanding my koan. My koan relies only on wordplay and it goes like this:
Joshu, a Chinese Zen master, asked a cow: "Has a cow Buddha-nature or not?"
The cow said: "Mu."
I called the koan "Joshu's Cow" and I would tell it to people and nobody understood it because it is a pun on an obscure allusion to a riddle that has no answer. That's a lot of responsibility to heap upon an unsuspecting victim who just happens to be standing next to me at a party, attempting to dip his broccoli floret into the only available bowl of ranch dressing.
It reminds me of another riddle I wrote involving Arnold Schwarzenegger and healthcare and it goes like this:
Q: Why did Arnold Schwarzenegger have to take allopurinol?
A: Gout!
This riddle doesn't work very well in written form because the answer must be said using an Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation so that it sounds a bit more like:
"GEEEEE-YOWWWTT!!"
Really, the only funny part of the riddle is the impersonation because, without the correct voice, the answer to the riddle simply becomes a medical fact followed by an exclamation point. Informative, and mildly startling, but not funny.
The riddle can't be written without losing the meaning of the answer. The riddle cannot be told by someone who cannot do a Schwarzenegger impersonation. The riddle cannot be understood by anyone who does not understand that allopurinol is a drug that reduces the amount of uric acid in the blood and is commonly used for the prevention of gout. In fact, the only way to explain the meaning of the riddle to an uninitiated listener is to tell the person the answer to the riddle before you have asked it.
It is a bad riddle on many, many levels.
The upshot is I learned that, while I am not very good at writing jokes and riddles that are understandable and funny, I am good at writing elaborate explanations as to why they are not understandable and funny, as well as why they should be understandable and funny if only the rest of humanity wasn't so stubborn about persistently being themselves, and would all just become me instead.
I am good at these things because I am passionate about finding complex connections between seemingly disparate ideas. It makes me happy to mix the highbrow and the lowbrow, the intellectual and the moronic, the profound and the banal, the serious and the satirical, because this is what is inside of me and what I need to express.
I have not yet learned how to express all of this within the simple and elegant context of a joke or riddle. Instead, I created Master Chen and Foo to serve this purpose. So, here it is, the very first Master Chen and Foo, based off of the koan "Joshu's Cow".
In a time before now...
In a place not here...
Master Chen and Foo...
TALK TO ANIMALS
One day, Apprentice Foo asked warrior sage Master Chen, "Master, can an
animal be enlightened?"
"Walk with me through the pastures, Foo," said Master Chen, "and we shall see."
Soon, Master Chen and Foo happened upon a sheep, and Master Chen said to the
sheep, "Can a sheep be enlightened?"
And the sheep said, "Baa."
"The sheep cannot be enlightened," said Master Chen, "so I must...CUT OFF
HIS HEAD!"
And Master Chen cut off the sheep's head.
Next, Master Chen and Foo happened upon a chicken, and Master Chen said to the
chicken, "Can a chicken be enlightened?"
And the chicken said, "Cluck."
"The chicken cannot be enlightened," said Master Chen, "so I must...CUT OFF
HER HEAD!"
And Master Chen cut off the chicken's head.
Finally, Master Chen and Foo happened upon a cow, and Master Chen said to the
cow, "Can a cow be enlightened?"
And the cow said, "Mu."
"The cow is enlightened," said Master Chen.
"I understand, Master," said Foo.
"Good," said Master Chen, "because now, I must...CUT OFF HIS HEAD!"
And Master Chen cut off the cow's head.
"But Master," said Foo, "If the cow was enlightened, why did you cut off his
head?"
"Because, Foo," said Master Chen, "the cow is also DELICIOUS. Go grab a hacksaw
from shed...we gonna eat GOOD tonight!"
And Foo was enlightened, but only a little.
So ends the lesson of TALK TO ANIMALS.
Honk if you are an idiot
The purpose of a car horn is to communicate with others, to warn others, not to bully them.
For those of you who suffer from the delusion that other people care about your banal, impulsive opinions or immature emotional outbursts, rest assured that we don't.
Stop crying wolf with your horn.
Your time would be better spend focused on learning the right-of-way rules at an intersection or talking to a therapist or punching yourself repeatedly in the face.
In order to protect the rest of us from the insecure and the self-righteous and the foolish horn honkers of the world, I propose a limit on the number of weekly horn honking events. This will include a maximum amount of time a driver can spend honking the horn continuously.
After the predetermined thresholds are reached, the car horn will blare out random phrases in a whiny, nasal voice. These phrases may include one or more of the following:
"I'm LONE-LEEEEEE!!"
"Everyone HATES me!"
"I'm sexually re-PRESSED!!"
"Me SMART! Me push HORN!"
"Pay ATTENTION to MEEE-EEE!!"
"I'm a moron! I'm a moron! I'm a moron! I'm a moron!"
"DUUUUUH-HUUUUUUUUH-HUUUUUUUUHHHHHHH!!"
In addition, repeat offenders will be punished with one or more of the following random events:
For those of you who suffer from the delusion that other people care about your banal, impulsive opinions or immature emotional outbursts, rest assured that we don't.
Stop crying wolf with your horn.
Your time would be better spend focused on learning the right-of-way rules at an intersection or talking to a therapist or punching yourself repeatedly in the face.
In order to protect the rest of us from the insecure and the self-righteous and the foolish horn honkers of the world, I propose a limit on the number of weekly horn honking events. This will include a maximum amount of time a driver can spend honking the horn continuously.
After the predetermined thresholds are reached, the car horn will blare out random phrases in a whiny, nasal voice. These phrases may include one or more of the following:
"I'm LONE-LEEEEEE!!"
"Everyone HATES me!"
"I'm sexually re-PRESSED!!"
"Me SMART! Me push HORN!"
"Pay ATTENTION to MEEE-EEE!!"
"I'm a moron! I'm a moron! I'm a moron! I'm a moron!"
"DUUUUUH-HUUUUUUUUH-HUUUUUUUUHHHHHHH!!"
In addition, repeat offenders will be punished with one or more of the following random events:
- The horn will stay on continuously for 24 hours
- The horn will fire off at random intervals between 2:00 am and 5:00 am
- The horn will honk at the driver at twice the normal volume as they approach the car
- The horn will fire off inside of the car on speakers pointed directly at the driver's head
Honking a car horn is a privilege not a right. Treat it as such.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Pour tea
My friend Phil and I are working on a new set of pieces for the Phizzy Essence YouTube site called "Master Chen and Foo". They use a traditional Master and Apprentice trope for the story format.
Since I haven't figured out how to do the animation yet, I thought I would at least post the written parts here every once in a while in case I never finish them.
In a time before now...
In a place not here...
Master Chen and Foo...
POUR TEA
Warrior sage Master Chen was drinking his tea when his Apprentice, Foo, appeared before him.
"Master," said Foo, "Do you mind if I have some tea?"
"No," said Master Chen.
"Then I cannot have some tea?" asked Foo.
"You may have some tea," said Master Chen.
"Master, I am confused," said Foo.
"Foo, you are always confused," said Master Chen, "You asked if I minded you having tea and I said that I do not mind you having tea, so you may have some tea."
Foo poured himself some tea, sat across from Master Chen, and laughed heartily.
"Master, you do not understand what I mean," said Foo, "You are the one who is confused."
Master Chen took the scalding hot teapot from the fire and held it before Foo.
"Foo, do you mind if I pour tea on your crotch?"
"No!!"
Master Chen poured tea on Foo's crotch.
"Auughhh! Master! Why did you pour tea on my crotch?"
"Because you do not understand what I mean."
Master Chen paused a moment, then said, "Foo, do you mind if I pour tea on your crotch?"
"Nah...uh...yes! Yes!"
Master Chen poured tea on Foo's crotch.
"Auuugh! Master, why did you pour more tea on my crotch?"
"Because you do not understand what I mean."
And Foo was enlightened slightly more than he was before.
Master Chen poured more tea on Foo's crotch.
"NyuuuuAAAuuugh! Master, why do you keep pouring tea on my crotch?"
"Because I do not like you...and I do not like your crotch."
So ends the lesson of POUR TEA.
Since I haven't figured out how to do the animation yet, I thought I would at least post the written parts here every once in a while in case I never finish them.
In a time before now...
In a place not here...
Master Chen and Foo...
POUR TEA
Warrior sage Master Chen was drinking his tea when his Apprentice, Foo, appeared before him.
"Master," said Foo, "Do you mind if I have some tea?"
"No," said Master Chen.
"Then I cannot have some tea?" asked Foo.
"You may have some tea," said Master Chen.
"Master, I am confused," said Foo.
"Foo, you are always confused," said Master Chen, "You asked if I minded you having tea and I said that I do not mind you having tea, so you may have some tea."
Foo poured himself some tea, sat across from Master Chen, and laughed heartily.
"Master, you do not understand what I mean," said Foo, "You are the one who is confused."
Master Chen took the scalding hot teapot from the fire and held it before Foo.
"Foo, do you mind if I pour tea on your crotch?"
"No!!"
Master Chen poured tea on Foo's crotch.
"Auughhh! Master! Why did you pour tea on my crotch?"
"Because you do not understand what I mean."
Master Chen paused a moment, then said, "Foo, do you mind if I pour tea on your crotch?"
"Nah...uh...yes! Yes!"
Master Chen poured tea on Foo's crotch.
"Auuugh! Master, why did you pour more tea on my crotch?"
"Because you do not understand what I mean."
And Foo was enlightened slightly more than he was before.
Master Chen poured more tea on Foo's crotch.
"NyuuuuAAAuuugh! Master, why do you keep pouring tea on my crotch?"
"Because I do not like you...and I do not like your crotch."
So ends the lesson of POUR TEA.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
And they taste great with peanut butter as well
Apparently, there a species of jellyfish that is immortal.
First thought of this jellyfish: "Hooray! I'm immortal!"
Second thought of this jellyfish: "Oh crap! I'm stuck as a jellyfish...FOR ETERNITY!!!"
First thought of this jellyfish: "Hooray! I'm immortal!"
Second thought of this jellyfish: "Oh crap! I'm stuck as a jellyfish...FOR ETERNITY!!!"
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