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2003.08.03 : 2003.08.09
Saturday, August 9, 2003
Plurp. We weren't nearly as thrilled with Lara Croft
- Tomb Raiders: the Cradle of Life as Helen, who thought it was better
than the first. We thought it was Temple of Doom without Spielberg's
ability to pull it off. There were too many story developments that just
didn't make sense. The location shots were gorgeous, but we kept forgetting
why the plot went to all of them.
If there is a 3, the director would be well advised to remove the plot
filigrees and focus on telling a good, clean story with well-developed
characters.
Jolie is a good pick for the role, though. She is strong and aloof,
and (for better or worse) so infinitely competent that you cannot conceive
of her failing. Despite the current dizzying plot, she is a worthy hero
for the fem fandom that is agog at Xena and the new Charlie's
Angels.
Plurp. Last night, on the word beat.
She wore dark glasses to
the grocery store at night. No one asked her why.
 Plurp.
The blue dog
was like sitting in a
French cafe
Friday, August 8, 2003
Blab. A reader suggests something.
CNN Anchor: "He
put his name in the ring"
Hmm. We get He threw his hat into the ring, though we've never understood
its origin. But what's the other phrase? He put his name in the <what?>.
The grail?
Blab. An ESL reader writes:
vate que vate
¡Tome el borracho!
Blab. One of our many action figure fetishists writes:
[Go figure. Err, action
figure!]
What's Bill Gates gonna do with all that money? Buy dollies
action figures!
Blab. A reader sends us a self-described ...
Blind
link.
Yes, it's the Table of Foods That Periodically Go Bad. Brought to you by
F.N.O.R.D..
Plop. Everything in New York is wet. It has been raining now
for longer than anyone can remember, and the rain has soaked into everything.
The gutters are flooded, and taxi cabs spray gallons of dirty water on
unwary walkers. People coming into Grand Central Station from Lexington
Avenue have large, dark spots on their clothing - runoff from the awnings
above storefronts. Grand Central itself provides no solace. The deep pedestrian
tunnels, above which huge trains rumble, leak in steady streams into the
yellow plastic buckets that are scattered across the wet floor. The trains
themselves leak, and puddles collect beneath the seats.
You can see it in the faces of the people in the rain. They don't know
if it will ever stop.
Plop. What could be better than agents of the government sitting
in a
blimp full of spycraft, floating above your bedroom, intent on watching
your every move?
Why, France-bashing while doing it, of course.
"It's very monotonous," said
Stephen Huett, airship program manager for the Naval Air Systems Command
at Patuxent River Naval Air Station in St. Mary's County. "It's like sitting
in a French cafe."
Plurp.
Could it be time to quit reading
blogs?
Gosh. We sure hope so.
Plurp.
The blue dog
was like sitting in a
French cafe
Thursday, August 7, 2003
Blab. A reader reintroduces the following topic.
The Thought Screen helmet
for kids is bad because it would keep Ceto from making
new friends.
Aha! A link that works! And, whether by remarkable coincidence or by the
clandestine machinations of the mind-control lasers, it points to a children's
book about alien visitors. See Dick. See Dick probed by aliens.
Stuff like that.
Cool.
Blab. A reader misspells the name.
The Monkeys always have such
well behaved fans at their concerts
Hey, hey.
Blab. A reader takes offense, though obscurely.
Meek-Mok??! The blue
dog addresses me with a simple "Meek-Mok"? "Ook vaak" is my only
response to that.
Alsmaar!
Blab. Mistaking us for the help desk, a reader writes:
Dear Dr. Plurp,
I hope you can help me. Every
morning when I get up my cat is still asleep in my husband's space.
Don't ask, that part is complicated. So, I get up and do my morning
thing and when I am ready to make the bed. the cat is STILL sound asleep.
So I never get a chance to make the bed until, like, 3:00. What can
I do?
Purring in NY
We recommend staying in bed until 3:00. It works for us.
Blab. Anonymous cow orker Ed
sends us a ...
[link]
... to an astonishing story that he told us at lunch today.
If a young worker attempts
to reproduce, she is spreadeagled by her fellows and kept immobilized for
hours or even days. At the end of her sentence, the best she can hope for
is a reduction in rank and loss of reproductive capability. Often she is
mutilated or killed.
The rest of the article is even more astonishing.
Plurp. Things not to write in a card that you give to your wife
for your 15th anniversary.
It just doesn't seem like
twenty years, does it?
Oh, and, if you do write that, and your wife's jaw drops and her eyes get
wide, don't giggle and explain the joke. Trust us on this.
Plurp. Ever since we left, California politics has gotten entirely
too weird.
Next: Jesse Ventura clones assimilate California legislature.
Plurp. Gary
Coleman is also running for governor of California. It can't get any
weirder.
Yo.
 You
know what they say about politics. It's show business for ugly people.
-- Dick Rosengarten
|
Plurp. What are we to conclude from the appearance of a
glowing review of AOL 9 in the Old Media New York
Times?
It delivers a Web free of
pop-up ads; an Off switch for those insidious pop-up ads that arrive on
your desktop through Windows Messenger; and a beefed-up array of anti-spam
tools. [...]
Instant messaging is beefed up, too.
If your PC has a microphone, you can make person-to-person voice calls
across the Internet.
So XX.
Yow. You already follow Red
vs. Blue, so we don't have to say anything about it. But did you see
their Apple Switch
ad? Funny.
Plurp.
The blue dog
decided to become governor
of California
Wednesday, August 6, 2003
Blab. A reader indulges in unspecified activities.
wonka, wonka, wonka.
We prefer to think of this as related to puppets.
Blab. A reader mistakes us for a request line.
how bout some stuff on monkeys
and midgets?
Anything for our readers.
Oh. We forgot the midgets. Sorry
Blab. A reader celebrates the difference.
but you are americans you
spell funny anyway
Not to mention the punctuation and grammar.
Blab. Despite our repeated warnings, a reader has been attending
meetings again.
A potential Helenism overheard
in an all-staff meeting presentation:
"That was an elephant we had to take
a bite out of."
White elephant.
Bite off more than we could chew.
Even if it isn't a Helenism, it's
a colorful phrase.
L.
What a disturbing image! Whatever does it mean?
Blab. A reader gives us fashion advice. What a weird idea.
Fashion advice: sweater draped
around shoulders = yuppie scum
That's us!
But in any event, what do you do with your sweater when you're
not wearing it?
Blab. An unnamed member of the secret cadre that monitors our
every move is now calling us names and giving us orders.
Happy Anniversary, cutie!
Now print THAT!
H
We find ourself unable to disobey.
Plurp. Maybe you lost something. Maybe that's why you're looking
here. It's the only explanation we can come up with.
-
helen naked pitures
-
imani
-
iris chacon
-
chihuly
-
naked female dogs
-
arsenic poisoning pictures
-
cyc
-
britney spears naked
-
cthulhu sings bob hope
-
get an elephant in a refrigerator
Yo. We have a special treat for you today: an alien
abduction site, and a goodie at that. Oh golly, we just love
stuff like this! (Kafkaesque)
For years there were accounts
of alien encounters where the aliens showed a little black box to humans.
The aliens held up the box and pointed to it, then returned to their spacecraft
and left. People having such encounters wondered why the aliens did
not try to communicate with them further. The contents in the little black
box remained a mystery for decades. Thanks to investigators such
as Bud Hopkins and Dave Jacobs, we now know what is in the box.
The box contains a live fetus of a
hybrid which is part human and part alien. Showing the box is an act of
triumph. The aliens plan to colonize the earth with their new race and
replace the human race. By showing the box the aliens are demonstrating
that they have succeeded in creating a replacement for the human race.
After aliens take either sperm or
eggs from humans, depending on their sex, or in some cases, an alien/hybrid
baby, the human abductees are taken into large rooms in the alien's spacecraft
containing alien/hybrid fetuses in tanks at different stages of development.
Abductees wondered why they did this.
The answer is now obvious, the aliens are showing humans their replacement.
The aliens are in effect telling abductees that the new alien/hybrids will
replace them. There will be no more humans on the earth.
Nothing could be more frightening.
Well, OK, we can think of one thing that could be more frightening.
And don't miss the thought
screen helmets!
Thoughts screens have successfully
stopped four kinds of aliens from abducting humans.
-
The praying mantis-like aliens.
-
Servants of the mantis-like aliens who
are popularly referred to as grays.
-
Snake-skinned aliens popularly referred
to as reptilians.
-
"Meek-Moks" which refers to the sound
these aliens make while speaking.
Thought screens work by stopping telepathic
communication and mental control between aliens and humans. When
the aliens can't communicate, they can't take their victims.
And for the crafties among you, here's how to make your
very own thought screen helmet. Then follow these pithy directions
for use.
Wear the helmet as much as
you can, especially during times that you feel you are usually abducted.
Some persons report complete success just wearing the helmet at night,
others report that the aliens became aware when they were not wearing the
helmet and took them when they weren't wearing it.
One abductee reported that when she
wasn't wearing the helmet, the aliens gave her a telepathic command when
they were about to take her to not put on the helmet. The only way to stop
such alien telepathic commands is to wear the helmet as much as possible.
Yak. From a meeting today, a veritable marvel of oratory.
As we start digging down
below the water lever and see how big the iceberg is, we see that it is
growing rapidly.
Wonderful. But what could it mean?
Plurp.
The blue dog
made a habit of stealing
thought screen helmets
in the dead of night
Muesday, August 4.5, 2003
Blab. A reader makes demands, without realizing the
significance of certain events.
I want my Plurp!
A second reader realizes all too well.
Nice temporal rift!
Shh! We are not yet ready to reveal our methods.
Blab. A Treasured Reader is full of good advice for us.
oranges are too dull to divide
apples, use the business cards instead.
Sadly, having transformed the business cards into an origami depth
3 Menger's sponge, the resulting structure is also too dull to divide
apples. Just our luck.
Blab. A kindly reader tries to keep us up on the latest cultural
trends.
Burqa
Band! Rock
on!
A burqa-clad all-woman rock band? We can't help but think that this looks
like a gimmick. No doubt our cynicism is the inevitable byproduct of our
long isolation from the real world.
Next: Am I Hot or Not?
Blab. A reader informs us of a shocking fact.
|\_._._/|
|
o o |
\
.` /
|`---|
|
| Der blaue Hund is
the Klingon
|`__
|\_ God of Mormon.
/|
|\
##
##
nuqDaq 'oH puchpa''e' ?
Blab. A reader points in the general direction of ...
Ceto's
New Friends
Sadly, Omni seems to be down at the moment, so we can't make our usual
witty remarks. Or at least, we can't make any that have a good chance of
being related to our reader's link. It makes us sad.
Blab. A reader who is fond of sporting events asks:
Some sporting event involving
horseless carriages caused some brainless commentator to say:
'... this is where dreams are
made of.'
+ '... this is where
dreams are made.'
+ '... this is what
dreams are made of.'
Surely a Helenism?
{inw}
As well as poor grammar, we'd say. And don't call us, surely.
Goodness, our collection is
getting quite bloated!
Blab. A reader disputes one of our many modest claims.
"All you need in a phenomenon
is regularity, or at least empirical predictability"
er...I think that was kind of my point,
in absence of any known (and therefore measurable) phenomenon - say,  miracles
per square meter or such like, there is nothing tangible to measure, therefore
attempting to measure it by arbirary means is not scientifically valid.
Far better measurement can be had
by scientifically conducted tests such as those of the Randi
Organisation, which tests attempt to verify claims of divine (or other
supernatural) phenomena by adherents.
So far... well... yes I suppose the
meter reading looks right to us too.
-AJL
On the contrary, we think there is ample evidence for both empirical predictability
and regularity in any number of measurable phenomena. And we find the proposed
godometer to be in excellent calibration.
Blab. A reader who is fond of statistics and linear extrapolation
writes:
We have used half of the
oil on the planet in the last 100 years. Info has it (halfway down the
sidebar of the home page for FTW)
that "the End of the Age of Oil is near." What will happen to the Blue
Dog when our sub-species, "petroleum man," becomes extinct?
Wangmo
on her pogo stick
Then the blue dog will be the only remaining member of the Club
of Rome.
Blab. A reader who wishes to be dismissed slowly writes:
From the previous diagram
we observe that the height of A4, viz 297mm, is numerically one more than
296 - the reading of the Bible's 7th word. This, of course, might well
be quickly dismissed as happenstance were it not for the fact that the
difference, (height - width), is 87mm, ie numerically one more than 86
- the Bible's 3rd word!
Millimeters being, of course, god's
own chosen unit of length.
So either it's the
product of a nutter or an elaborate hoax. Whichever, we are impressed
with the amount of free time the author must have. Perhaps he or she should
go into blogging.
Blab. We achieve one of our life-long objectives.
Subj: Plurp invades my dreams.
I was in my bedroom (not my current
one, but one I previously lived in) and noticed that someone had drawn
faces on the curtains, one face on each of two curtains. Nothing
fancy, just simple line drawings of slightly goofy looking faces.
But I thought there was something
more sinister about them, so I looked at them more closely, and didn't
see anything different; then I looked at one more closely still, and saw
it move its eyes. Aha, I thought, the faces are somehow animated/possessed/etc.
Since I didn't like the idea of having
possessed faces on my bedroom curtains, I decided to remove them.
The first one I removed by conventional means. No idea what those
conventional means actually were--the dream kind of skipped over that part--but
it was something that I was confident would work, as if I had done it many
times before.
For the second face, I had a hunch
that something different might work, and decided to try it out. I
went up to the face, and addressed it in a loud, clear voice: "Know ye
of the geometry of produce?"
At that point I woke up, so I don't
know if the incantation was successful in exorcising the face.
Rest assured; we are with you always. We monitored that dream, and we can
assure you that the incantation
did, in fact, exorcise that goofy yet sinister face.
We look forward to your continued reportage of the various ways in which
we have warped affected your mind.
Blab. A reader astounds us with what it does in its spare time.
Willy
Wonka vs Jesus game screenshot.
What would Willy do, eh?
(From our very favorite site, Christian
Computer Game Reviews. Honest.)
Blab. A reader contributes a real honey to one of our many Storehouses
of Vast Literary Knowledge.
Another entry in your generic
literature, from the newsgroup rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc:
--------------------------
Subject: Re: The words used in movie
titles (including MSTed movies)
From: gemmemory@aol.commierat (Ian
W. Hill)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc
>>I just want to say here that I'm
going to write
>>a hit movie called Verbing Title
Name.
>
>Would the trailer for that movie
include something
>like ::::dramatic music:::: "Who
is Title Name, and
>why is everyone trying to verb him?"
<music: CARMINA BURANA or
themes from MILLER'S CROSSING / stark individual shots, seperated by black,
with each phrase of the NARRATOR>
NARRATOR:
"In a noun . . .
. . . participled by descriptive
noun . . .
. . . one gender-specific noun .
. .
. . . verbed too far . . .
. . . is about to verb!"
<music swells, quick cuts of exciting
actions for about a minute>
NARRATOR:
"From the job-title of Cheesy-Summer-Blockbuster-Name
. . .
. . . one noun . . .
. . . one noun . . .
. . . in a noun for their nouns.
Corporate-conglomorate presents .
. .
$20 million actor!
$3 million actress!
Humorous comic relief!
Beloved Old Hollywood fart!
and Award-name winner Prestige-Name
as Meaningless-Character-Name in
VERBING TITLE NAME!
The only noun adjective than noun
is pun-on-Title-Name!"
<credits; title card "visit www.VTNthe
movie.com">
--------------------------
- Felis Lynx
Fabulous, and so enshrined!
Plurp.
Plurp.
In a sculpture garden at Stanford
University, in the back of the tall wall on which is mounted Rodin's Gates
of Hell, is a small steel door with a deadbolt lock and no handle.
Plurp.
WARNING: CHOKING HAZARD.
SMALL PARTS. NOT SUITABLE
FOR CHILDREN UNDER 3 YEARS.
Yak. Today.
What was the meeting about?
Oh, it was just people touching antennae
with each other.
Plurp.
The Boys of Sumer
Yow. Yowie K. Zowie. More
cool stuff from our group at work.
Plop. Colin Powell, one of the few voices approaching rationality
in Dubya's administration, will be leaving
his position (and so will his deputy) even if Dubya is reelected.
We suppose it must have been getting pretty lonely there.
Yo. Talk to the hand. This time, literally.
Yak. On the phone
today.
You can't change on a dime
-
You can't change overnight
-
You can't turn on a dime
Plurp. Do ants have memory? We wouldn't think they would need
any, though bees do. There are clearly animals that don't. Sponges (we
suppose). Maybe anemones. But flatworms do. What animals do not have memory?
Do you know?
Plurp. Until recently, the man we met on the way to the airport
yesterday, a man in his mid-40s, was a middle manager at a high-tech telecom
firm in the wine country north of San Francisco. He liked the money, and
he liked the prestige, but he didn't like the meetings as late as 5:30,
or having to work on Saturdays.
The stress got to be too much for him and his wife, a financial executive,
and they got divorced last November. She kept the two kids, six and eleven.
Then he got laid off, along with most of the department he managed.
But he's just as happy now, driving his taxi cab to the airport.
Really he is.
Plurp. Or the man with whom we shared a cab on the ride back
to Manhattan last night, a guy around 30 who is in Web advertising. He's
been laid off twice in the past year as both of the startups he joined
went under. Now he lives in San Francisco and works in New York, spending
more than half of his time away from home, he says, but at least he's working.
Plurp.
The blue dog
was just as happy
being an icon of
dubious value
Sunday, August 3, 2003
Plurp.
 |
