Plurp: Not small, just far away

Bigger!

2004.03.22 : 2004.03.27

Saturday, March 27, 2004
Plurp. From last Thursday's Seattle Post-Intelligencer.

Wind-swept Katie Groth from Maryland and
Helen Bowden-White from New York City
both grin and bear it as they battle to
control their umbrella while crossing
Union Street at Fourth Avenue

Thursday, March 25, 2004
Plurp. Today, we return your quizzes (with grades), make more fun of your deeply-held religious beliefs, and continue to indulge in similar inbred topics.

Blab. In response to that vulgar reader who insulted our writing, this Treasured Reader gets an A+++ in brown-nosing.
The vulgar reader seems to be unable to tell the difference between forced farce and genius at the fine art of whimsy. It makes me sad to think that other nuances must have missed. Savor the bouquet of Plurp, silly reader.
That's right, vulgar reader: scratch and sniff.

Blab. An A+ goes to this Treasured Reader, who details (well, outlines, anyway) the solution to that previous reader's question: How can I get "This Is My Song" as my cell's ringtone?
"the tune as a mobile (cell!) ringtone": well, if the Reader can get a MIDI or WAV or MP3 (I think, depending on the phone) of the tune, e can then stick it on a website somewhere, put up an html page containing a link to it, and then go into eir cellphone's "pretend to be a really bad web browser" mode and click on that link. If it's a modern cellphone, that's all that's needed to download a sound/song as a ringtone. (If it's not a modern cellphone, I dunno.)
So there you go! Get something, put it somewhere, then do stuff.

Blab. A reader who went to school on Sundays writes:
We all will one day have to accept Jesus is the Christ. But it's just like humans to twist the saving grace of God, in the fomr of a terrible sacrifice, inot a bout of S&M porn. Maybe we will see through the blindness of our complacency towards grace, and just accept that he died outta love. Not sexual pleasure, in anymanner.
Why do we feel that we just lost this reader?

Blab. A reader stumbles across another of our little hobbies.
Professor Steve's Christian World of Science
We are so proud of this.
Waldo is a preacher. Every program that Waldo presents is a sermon, complete with individual points all supporting a central theme straight from the Bible. Being a clown, however, allows Waldo to take his messages a step farther.
Amen.

Blab. A deeply religious reader writes:
Little known fact: Jesus was one of the original Solid Gold dancers.
We did not know that.
This costume consists of the following pieces:

Long Sleeved Shirt of Gold

Sequined Fabric

Harem Style Silk Essence

Dance Pants

Sash Belt

We especially like the dance pants. But that's just us.

Blab. A reader writes:
I'm I good enough to go to heaven?
Kurt say no. Bawawawawa
We feel certain that we posted something (probably in the past) that related to this. But we can't figure out what it was at the moment. Must have something to do with having gotten up at 1 AM today.

Blab. An anachronistic reader writes:
Religion is blasphemy!
Just twenty years too late.

Blab. A Treasured Reader is disturbed by certain recent changes.
I miss the blue dog. More please!
We're not ignoring your needs, dear reader. We're just very, very obscure.
The blue dog emerges from hiding... to be seen briefly on Flickr!
Imagine a blog so obscure that you have to scour the entire Web to understand it at all. Yet, our aspirations remain high.

Blab. A reader states the obvious.
This is the most important blog, ever!
We couldn't agree more. Or understand less.

Plurp. The usual suspects.

helen naked pitures

blue dog

imani

iris chacon

thermobaric

cyc

mia

naked female dogs

virtual helen naked pictures

bryant gumble bryant gumbel

Which is to say, more people care about Iris Chacon than care about Bryant Gumbel. As we've always suspected.

Yow. Hey - we were the Quote of the Day on Dave's blog! Pretty cool.

Plop. The country that brought you haggis now brings you ...
Scotland's latest culinary delicacy - the deep-fried chocolate sandwich, promises to be one of the world's fattiest snacks. [...]
The sandwich consists of two slices of white bread smothered in chocolate sauce, dipped in batter and deep-fried. It's then covered in sugar and more chocolate sauce and served with vanilla ice-cream [...].
Eat up!

Yo. Soople. Did you know Google could do all that stuff? We didn't. (Jerry Kindall)

Yow. This is very, very disturbing. We like that. (Dave)

Plurp. From our all-week meeting in an Even Farther Away Place.
I'm knocking my head against a brick wall.

I'm knocking my head against the wall.

I've run up against a brick wall.

Plop.
Rumsfeld: You, and a few other critics, are the only people I've heard use the phrase "immediate threat." I didn't.
Oh yeah?

Monday, March 22, 2004
Plurp. Having spent a whole thirty hours at home (most of those asleep), we're now in an Even Farther Away Place. We've been in three different countries just today (although the abstraction today is a bit fuzzy right now), only one of which spoke English as a majority language.
As a direct result, we break with tradition and indulge in a dialogue on things that recently appeared in Plurp. Yes, that means that all of the other reader contributions (the ones that are already growing moldy) will grow even moldier before seeing the light of day. Life is tough.

Blab. On the topic of our rant against Mr. Gibson's latest piece of S&M porn, a reader writes:

Jesus!

That's pretty much how we felt about it.

Blab. An appreciative reader writes:
Rant on, Steve!
That was fun, wasn't it?

Blab. A reader gets sucked into the conversation despite itself.
Wow, Steve, I just popped in to say that there's no male version of the word seamstress. Then I read your rant about That Movie That Everyone's Talking About. I haven't seen it, so I can't comment on it from that perspective, but, from things I've read, I believe you may be on to something.
No male version? Sure there is!
Our explanation of The Passion of the Christ, while perhaps unconventional, sure explains a lot. We encourage you to see that revolting movie. If, that is, like millions of Americans, you are a closet sadist and really enjoy seeing a person tortured to death in vivid and unimaginable detail.

Blab. Fortunately, a reader sends us the predictable response. That way, we don't have to send it to ourself.
Mmmm pr0n...
Just to be clear, we have nothing against porn. We think anybody should be able to read / view / hear / watch anything they want. It's even OK with us for people to go to a sadistic movie like The Passion of the Christ, however disgusting we may find it.
We just wish they'd be honest about their fetish.

Blab. A reader breaks the code.
Hey, there's a hidden meaning in the title "The Passion of the Christ". If you jumble the letters around a little, it reads "The porn of the ass Chisti". Once we figure out what the hell a Chisti is, Mel is busted.
We don't think we have to wait that long.

Blab. A reader thinks that Mel is much too deliberate in his sadism.
After reading your link about s/m i think i found that it wasn't so much the weirdness of it that i found creepy, but maybe the whole concept of all the pre-planning. Organized theatrical sex seems like so much work. I'm all about that special eye contact, clever innuendo build up, and heavy breathing. Then rush off someplace to do the deed and laugh about the joy of it. Then Good-bye. And I am a female.
So you're saying that you would have just flogged Him spontaneously, maintaining eye contact while whipping off clever innuendo? (The guy being flogged will probably do enough heavy breathing for both of you.)
OK, then.

Blab. Fortunately, the controversial role of Mel's movie in American culture has come to an end, in the canonical way.

BOXOFFICE: 'DAWN OF THE DEAD' KNOCKS 'CHRIST' OFF TOP SPOT
Mmmmm. Zombies!

Blab. A reader writes, mysteriously.
The oddly disturbing cat head book has been removed from your office. Delivery is scheduled for Sunday, late afternoon.
And indeed, the oddly disturbing cat heat book was delivered, and now sits beside us in our Even Farther Away Place.

Blab. Attempting to push us over the brink of the precipice of suicide is this vulgar reader.
Your Flickr quotes reminded me of this.
Our tiny bits of disconnected prose remind you of intentionally bad opening sentences to imaginary novels? We are wounded. Mortally wounded.

Blab. Seeking, perhaps, to yank us back, a reader attempts to console us.
Not that stupid a blog. Really
That's so very kind of you. Transparently incorrect, of course, but so very kind.

Blab. Consoling us by writing intentionally bad opening sentences is this reader.
Trying every door and searching every crevice, he had yet to find the arcane and divine magics that he had so long seeked. Well, in truth, expected.
Thank you. We feel much better.

Blab. A friend from Flickr indulges in a now-common interaction pattern, which is nonetheless connected (in a mysterious and unexplained way) with those little fragments of prose.
Kallese picked up the Plurp-thing by the scruff of its neck and admired her reflection in it's glossy 4 inch diameter eyes. As the three sets of eyelids blinked (blunk?) in succession, Kallese wondered if the Plurp-thing could actually see her afterall...
Plurp pouts, gurgling and drooling.

Blab. Some of our readers ask probing questions about our fragments.
How did WHAT begin?
It.
You keep refering to "it." What is "it?"
It. It! It's it!! OK? It!!

Blab. Sewing up the bleeding wound of this topic, a reader writes:
We're not worthy!
We've always said that.

Blab. A reader writes:
so, i was playing euchre on yahoo, pulled the last cigarette out of the pack and started counting back the smokes for the day and thought to myself, "Oh my God, I'm smoking like a fish!" Then I thought of you.
Curiously, our "away" message on Flickr is "I am a fish."

Blab. A reader sends us a Google Challenge.
Hello
I stumbled across your site by searching for "my very own song".
I won't go into chapter and verse of 'why', but suffice to say that the tune has been in my head for 20 years this year and I have (on many occasion) driven various colleagues and friends mad by whistling or 'dooby doo be do' ing the tune. Anyway, what I wanted to know is - do you know where I might be able to get the tune as a mobile (cell!) ringtone? A few years ago I tried to program it in myself.....I didn't cut the mustard!
If you can help, much appreciated.
Regards
Gary
Hello. We hope you didn't injure yourself.
We could, we suppose, spend our own precious time answering your question. But - golly - that would be awfully out of character, wouldn't it?
Instead, we'll suggest that our Treasured Readers, who are more energetic and dedicated than we ever were, will answer your question instead.

Plurp.

Yow. We heard a great neologism last week:
Insatiable Computing
It refers to problems which can usefully absorb all of the computing power that you could plausibly throw at them. We like this term very much!

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