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Holiday Home Invasion

Oh ho ho, who wouldn't go, oh ho ho, who wouldn't go, up on the rooftop, click, click, click, and impale Santa on a stick...

Oh ho ho, who wouldn't go, oh ho ho, who wouldn't go, up on the rooftop with an axe, to behead Santa with a well-placed whack...

[halleyscomment]

I think I had an out-of-body experience last night.

It was the strangest thing.

Timothy Leary would call this kind of event an “astral projection.” He would say that I have reached the “Eighth Circuit” or “The Neuro-Atomic-Circuit.” Supposedly this circuit can be reached by taking Ketamine or copious amount of LSD or any other drug that brings on a near-death experience.

You’ll be happy to know that I achieved this accidentally without the aid of any psychedelic drugs.

Eat your heart out, Tim.

Okay, so you want to hear about the experience?

I was sitting in my bed reading and the next thing you know I was floating. I know that space-time ended because it was apparent that I could move backwards and forwards in time at will.

I must have went backward at first because when I went to the freezer I found a full box of Jell-o Pudding Pops.

Next, I must have gone forward and let me tell you, the future looks good. I went to my freezer and found a box of Jell-o Pudding Pops!

Guess who was on the box.

George W. Bush!

He brought back the Pupping Pop in a last ditch effort to win the next election.

I don’t think he succeeded, but good for him.

[halleyscomment]

An Essay on Human Existence and Its Symbiotic Relationship with Standardized Testing

Synergism: The combined action of two or more which have a greater total effect than the sum of their individual effects. — New Webster’s Dictionary

What is the basis of human existence? Why do we exist? How can one measure the worth of their singular existence?

From this point on I will unite humankind under the name of Mrs. Jezabella Fruitsandgrains. This name will be synonymous with humanity. AS you can see, using this nomenclature, it is much easier to think of humanity as a singular person who walks, talks, and acts as one Mrs. Jezabella Fruitsandgrains. It is also a lot easier for me to type Mrs. Jezabella Fruitsandgrains than it is to type ‘humanity’ over and over again. My reason for doing this will become startlingly clear by the conclusion of this essay.

Mrs. Jezabella Fruitsandgrains is a multi-dimensional 4th grade school teacher somewhere in eastern Idaho. She makes ends-meet by working nights on a potato farm where she is in charge of a small group of one-legged pirates who have circumnavigated the globe a total of 56 revolutions. One of the pirates has a talking parrot named Willy Fatima, a creature that Mrs. Jezabella Fruitsandgrains loathes. Her crowning achievement was finding a suitor for her daughter, Anastasia Fruitsandgrains who has taken the married name of her husband, Jethro Wilkes.

In order to determine whether or not Mrs. Jezabella Fruitsandgrains is living a justifiable existence it is pertinent to administer a standardized test to her late husband, Georgia Fruitsandgrains who we can reach with the aid of a maniacal sadist living in apartment 3B on Bettemidler Road somewhere in the grassy knolls of Wisconsin who goes by the name Ivan Herdowitzacraft.

The questions that will be asked will be determined by a group of 540 convicted drunk drivers who have cheated on their wives and have run countless industries and various organizations into the ground.

Questions involving the number of sexual partners, number of complete outfits designed by well-to-do designers, weight, sexual preference, wealth, 3rd grade report cards, meals eaten that cost less than $12 and shoe size will be well within the parameters of the test since they are all relevant to Mrs. Jezabella Fruitsandgrains and her soon-to-be-determined yay or nay existence.

Results of the test will be furnished to her for $16.95 and seven deities of her choice; additional gods or goddesses $4.95ea.

Without such standardized testing Mrs. Jezabella Fruitsandgrains would die at the ripe old age of 87 after surviving a ho-hum existence. If the test is administered at the age of 21 and again at 46.5, it is possible that Mrs. Jezabella Fruitsandgrains could have boosted her score from a miserable 3.678 Life Worth Points to a more respectable 5.789 LWPs ergo realizing her maximum potential LWPs for her existence aboard planet Earth.

In conclusion, it is easy for one to conceive that such a test would be an economical solution to the worldwide problem of the ever-decreasing stockpile of fossil fuels. Hurling millions upon millions of fuel regenerating bodies upon a heap of humanity who have been devastated by the cruel realization that they’re not ‘making it.’

[halleyscomment]

I lay still on my bed. Covers pulled tightly to my now flushed white cheeks. I realize that the bees have orchestrated a sinister version of Queen’s ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’

For God’s sake, can this be happening to me?

[halleyscomment]

Guilt Fish

The Systematic Decimation of Freshwater Carp as a Mechanism to Instill Shame Within the Developing Mind of Our Youth

It all starts with the fish. 

The parental guardianship unit begin inculcating shame on their offspring at an early age. Not the devout Catholic mothers who pine away for the Lusty Hand of God™ to take them away, nor the just as fervent, yet vitriol guilt of the Jewish mothers; all providers, regardless of creed, color, or cooking have been trained in the Secret Art of providing their progeny with a lifetime of therapy under the guise of ‘responsibility.’ 

You’re around seven years old, perhaps younger if you are an above average juvenile such as Anastasia Fruitsandgrains. The entire familial unit condenses themselves into their chosen mode of conveyance and hauls off to the domesticated animal food and accessory mega warehouse. There, the average seven year old, after banging on the terrariums containing terrified reptiles, amphibians, and arthropods; sobbing while gripping fistfuls of ferret fur... will end up in the aquarium aisle. 

A charming round bowl and a bag of pebbles; in your favorite chemically processed artificial color, of course. The miniscule jar of generic flakes, your child-mind is certain will never satiate your slimy new friend. In the oxygenated plastic bag, several little fishy filets; all with their own unique personalities and styles. Once home; pebbles, water and fish are unceremoniously dumped into the bowl and thrust into your over-eager, sticky hands. 

The fish have become your responsibility. 

You exuberantly heft the glass vessel into the main reception dorm of your habitation and explain in Lilliputian detail all your favorite television programs to the vulnerable piscine companions. You sleep with the bowl on a shelf next to your bed. You even submerge marbles and GI Joes into the aqueous depths so the fish can play with them too...

Five days later, the entire squadron of goldfish are dead. 

As one of your custodians is scooping the goopy cadavers into the toilet, they’re chiding you about how you weren’t responsible enough to take care of fish! You’d never be able to handle a more cumbersome creature.

Of course, they don’t patiently elucidate, or are even ignorant to oxygenation, pH levels and filtration. The fish perished suffocating on their own excrement. 

You’ve been deemed irresponsible. 

You go through life wrought with guilt that you’re a terrible provider and caregiver no one could possibly love; barring some bizarre twist of fate, in which case you will inevitably self-sabotage in an attempt to justify a deep-seeded resentment for your parents. 

If by some sick joke, you do find yourself in a coupling and reproduce, you may feel the perfervid compulsion to properly rear your spawn how you were improperly instructed decades past. 

Modern society takes a dim view of children residing in tanks of water, partially due to the lack of gills. Immediately, you’re accused of intentional drowning instead of attempting to provide a nurturing environment. 

Guilt follows us through the ages. 

As a maladjusted young adult, you go through self-help books and courses after college, rationalizing you’re the out-and-out dreck of mammalian resources, trying to contemplate what can make you more affable. By now, you’ve completely forgotten about the ‘fish incident,’ but the ache of shame still lingers on your psyche. After you get out of rehab, your life coach advises the first step to getting your life together before venturing into a relationship... is to get a plant. 

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Scumbling with Impasto

So you’re probably wondering: “Are they finally going to tell us?”

The answer is a rounding: “Sure, why not?”

It all started on the 3rd of September 2001. I was sleeping in because it was Labor Day and many of us are fortunate enough to have the day off. The shades were pulled down and there was a hint of the early morning sunlight peaking though the cracks on either edge. I was engaged in a rather intellectual inner monologue in which I was pondering the cultural importance of bananas within Hedonic society.

Looking back at it, I do not think that had anything to do with the events that proceeded.

I remember looking at the clock at the precise moment the following events began to take place. It was 11:11 AM. The bright white sunlight that showed on either side of the blinds took on a deep blue-green hue. The rays seemed to bend as if they were passing through water and came together to focus a beam of cool light on a seemingly arbitrary spot on the bed sheet before me. From beneath the blue light rose a small figure. I stared in awe. (The cool light has a therapeutic effect which calmed my nerves and made me face the idol without fear.)

To my disbelief what appeared before me was a three-inch hologram of the late Bob Ross. He looked at me, smiled and said: “There’s no such thing as a mistake, just happy little accidents,” one of the famous lines from his show, ‘The Joy of Painting.’

Of course, although it all seemed so real, my socialized, rational mind stepped in and said: “Wooooaaahhh doggy, back it up! You didn’t just see that. It was all one of those really vivid dreams you sometimes have. You know the ones I’m talking about.”

That worked for a few days until he came back at 3:33 AM the following Monday. (I assume he came earlier because he knew I had to get up early.) This time around we had a long conversation about his wet-on-wet technique.

The strange thing is, even though I know little to nothing about painting, my side of the conversation was startlingly insightful.

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The subdued drone of a hive of bees flowing mellifluously through the open window in my bedroom. Suddenly nature’s gentle melody underwent a syncopation. Once barely audible, now suddenly, impossibly, growing louder. Once a chaotic clamor of highs and lows, now building a distinct rhythm.

Can it be possible?

Am I dreaming?

Or are the bees living beneath the shelter of my eaves composing, what can only be described as a demonic symphony?

[halleyscomment]

In the early 1970s, a strange phenomenon began to take place. ‘Signals’ or ‘Transmissions’ were sent from an unknown origin and received by three men independent of each other.

Man 1: Philip K. Dick - Author of numerous science fiction books including “VALIS,” a book about a man who receives information via a beam of pink light. He was motivated to write a book on the subject following his own experience with these transmissions. He claims that messages came to him in Sanskrit and Koine Greek, two ancient languages in which he previously had no knowledge of, but suddenly began to understand.

Man 2: Timothy Leary - Clinical psychologist fired from Harvard due to his research with LSD. He believed that he received interstellar signals, which he called the ‘Starseed Transmissions.’ He believed within the transmissions he received was a code that would facilitate mankind’s growth and return to the stars.

Man 3: Robert Anton Wilson - Author of “The Illuminatus Trilogy,” “The Cosmic Trigger,” and numerous other books. He claims that he received transmissions from Sirius.

Others such as Aleister Crowley, James Joyce, and Joan of Arc have also claimed to have received signals from origins unknown. (Of course some of these did not take place in the early 1970s.)

Each of these three men claims to have an idea of where the signals originated. Leary speculated that these signals may actually be from the same origin, but may represent themselves to individuals based on that individual’s cultural beliefs. For example a Catholic may receive a signal from an ‘Angel’ or somebody that believes in UFOs may receive the signal from an ‘Alien.’

Why do I bring this up now?

Of course, as you may have already guessed:

I have been receiving interstellar transmissions.

[halleyscomment]

Mommy, I want a courtesan for Christmas...

"Some [courtesans] even had carpets on their floors, which was rare in those days. The Spanish ambassador, when visiting the courtesan Imperia, was afraid of dirtying the carpet by spitting onto it, and so he spat on a servant instead. Imperia was said to have appreciated his consideration." - excerpt from "Cities and People," Mark Girouard

[halleyscomment]

All You Ever Need to Know about Dallas

The temperature is always 102 but looks like it may rain at any given time.

There is construction everywhere and some of the freeway exits aren’t marked. On a good day, it will take you over 90 minutes to travel 20 miles. There are no good days.

A plethora of billboards are apparently sponsored by Christian groups. A particular favorite is one that is white text over a black background, and simply reads, ‘I am the real Supreme Court. —God’

An even larger plethora… or perhaps even, myriad of garish billboards advertise local strip clubs.

Gigantic churches which must be enough for thousands of worshippers are more prevalent than coffee shops. There appears to be a contest for the tallest church steeple. Several of them look like aviation hazards.

The George Bush Highway is a toll road. Thanks, Georgie! Now you really have that lasting legacy we’ll all enjoy forever.

The best Italian restaurant is technically in Addison, TX. It’s called Andiamo. It puts anything you can get from the North End of Boston to test.

[halleyscomment]

Oven mitts and shoe shine kits

“I believe in the total depravity of inanimate things-- the elusiveness of soap, the knottiness of strings, the transitory nature of buttons, the inclination of suspenders to twist and hooks to forsake their lawful eyes, and cleave only unto the hairs of their hapless owner's head.”

Katharine Walker, ‘The Atlantic Monthly’ (1864)

[halleyscomment]

Putrid Pumpkin Prose

While trudging home, I noted a sad and solitary sign of winter. It inspired me so, that I was compelled to originate a prolix poem on the spot:

Elegy on a Fallen Pumpkin (inspired by the deathless verse of Lord Byron, and the immortal prose of George W.Bush)

Fallen pumpkin, fresh thou'rt not; come to rest in gobs of rot.

Hid 'midst leaves, by eyes unfound (tho' licked by neighbor's peckish hound);

Come to grief, for pass thou must- weep I shall, when thou art dust.

Ants, which pick thy stringy guts seek soft goodness, and for what

made thy orangy peel so bright- Dirge I chant for thee, tonight.

[halleyscomment]

Gary Gygax, turn over in your grave

🍦🍨 🍦🍨 🍦🍨 🍦🍨 🍦🍨

GOLEM, ICE CREAM

Types: Budget (20 scoop); Premium (50 scoop); Greater Elemental Climate/Terrain: (for all types) Freezers, Dairy Aisles, Kitchens Frequency: Very rare ; Very rare ; Unique Organization: Solitary; Solitary; Solitary Activity Cycle: More active in winter months Diet: Yes, low-fat; Highly fatty; Artery-clogging Intelligence: Nil; Nil; Able to write Metaphysical poetry Alignment: Neutral; Neutral; Neutral Armor Class: 5 / 1 / -4 Movement: 6 / 5 / 4 Hit Dice: 14 / 22 / 240 HP THAC0: 6 / 4 / 2 No. of Attacks: 1 / 1 / 2 (one with each arm) Damage/Attack: 3-24 (3d8) / 5-40 (5d8) / 6-60 (6d10) Special Attacks: See below; See below; See below Special Defenses: See below; See below; See below Magic Resistance: 25% / 50% / 95% Size: L (8 ft) / L (12 ft) / L (20 ft)

An ice cream golem is the diabolically delicious creation of a crazed sorceror. It has roughly humanoid form, like other golems, but differs from them in being composed of jumbo scoops of ice cream. In the budget ice cream golem, these are mechanically packed; in the Premium golem, hand-packed. The Greater Elemental Ice Cream Golem, on the other hand, is composed of varied hand-packed strata of astral, ethereal, and Prime Material plane ice cream of the finest quality (hence its amazing magic resistance). Budget and Premium golems carry no weapon; the Greater Elemental carries in its right hand the dreaded relic Dark Scoop of Doom +5 (damage: 4d10 + 5 hp freezing damage, 10% chance per hit of polymorphing target into a tasty banana sundae). If the target is polymorphed in this manner, any creatures/players within 5' must make a saving throw vs.death or be irresistably drawn to eat this tempting dessert for 3 rounds (after 9 total rounds of eating, the polymorphed target is considered fully eaten). Any characters totally consumed in this manner may not be resurrected, and can only be restored to life by a Wish spell, or by sending three proof-of-purchase seals and 2000 g.p. to the Breyer's Dairy. The Elemental golem also wears a large, adamantine waffle-cone atop its head (see below).

Combat: Slashing and piercing weapons do only half damage to all ice cream golems. The Budget golem can only be hit by +2 or greater weapons; the Premium only by +3 or greater; and the Elemental only by +4 or better. The Elemental is also immune to all missile attacks.

The Budget golem may once per day emit a stream of artificial vanilla flavoring (range 20 feet, must make saving throw vs.breath weapon) which causes the target to uncontrollably retch for 2 rounds, effectively incapacitating them. The Budget golem also carries a sack of 12 Mexican Popsicles (Paletas), which it can lob as +2 darts, causing any target struck to be instantly diseased with a hideous gastric disorder.

The Premium golem may twice per day cast a Chocolate Chip of Chaos (range 30 ft, saving throw vs.wand/stave), causing an affected target to wander for 1-4 rounds in a state of drooling, finger-licking confusion.

The Elemental golem may remove the waffle-cone from its head once per day, and emit a Cone of Caramelization, (covering an area 20 feet wide, and 20 feet long) causing anyone within it to save vs.breath weapon or be covered with a hard candy shell, making movement or combat impossible until the coating is removed (requires 4 rounds of effort by another creature). Additionally, the Elemental may once per day release a Spumoni Spray, which consists of three rays (chocolate, pistachio, and cherry). Any creature within range (20 ft) must make a saving throw vs.breath weapon against each ray or suffer the following effects: Chocolate- fall into a contented slumber (as per Sleep spell), dreaming of chocolate for 5 rounds; Pistachio- make a saving throw vs.wand/stave or suffer insanity for 4 rounds, and attempting to lick any other creatures within 20 feet, believing they are tasty dessert items; Cherry- make a saving throw vs.spells or become intoxicated by a powerful cherry liqueur for 5 rounds, singing rousing sea chanties randomly.

Finally, the Elemental golem, if reduced to 25% or fewer hit points, may once per day Gate in a pair of Mormon missionaries. All creatures within 30 feet of this phenomenon must save vs.spells or immediately cease all other activities to participate in a pointless scriptural debate for 6 rounds. A second saving throw vs.death must be made or the affected creature will receive 1-6 months of unsolicited junk mail related to the Book of Mormon.

Habitat/Society: Like other golems, the Budget and Premium are mindless automatons. They are usually found near large and valuable caches of ice cream, and inhabit cold climes, though they are impervious to the effects of sunlight and normal heat due to their powerful enchantments. The Greater Elemental, however, is able to provide interesting dessert ideas, engage in spirited philosophical discussions, and solve even the New York Times Crossword in under 30 seconds. The Elemental is actually quite content to be peaceful, and likes kitty cats, flowers, and interior decorating, until stirred to anger by an attack on its master or unauthorized access to his freezer. It is rumored to inhabit the kitchen of the legendary sorceror Cyrilek Catmonger, deep in the woods of the storied land of Retsacnal.

Special note: all ice cream golems are slowed by magical fire (such as Fireball, Flame Arrow, etc) for 3 rounds. Cold attacks will heal them of 5 hp of damage each. It is rumored that especially evil mages have created the Baked Alaska Golem by casting an Incendiary Cloud and a Limited Wish spell on a Budget Ice Cream Golem. No further details are known of this abomination.

[halleyscomment]

A BRIEF HISTORY OF PANTS

PANTS THROUGH THE AGES: YA HISTORICAL ROMANCEY

👖 👖 👖 👖 👖 👖 👖 👖 👖 👖

VOICEOVER BY NARRATOR

This should be someone everyone loves and trusts. Bob Hope, Carl Sagan, or Ed MacMahon would be good. Don’t even think about Rone.

[Hold on TITLE for a few seconds. Fade into NARRATOR seated at a desk]

NARRATOR: Yes, pants. Everybody knows about them…

[Sudden crashing music. Zoom into a tight shot of NARRATOR’S eyes narrowing]

Or do they?

[Music stops abruptly. Zoom back to previous shot of NARRATOR]

Today on our historical docudrama, we take a look at pants. Pants throughout history. Their role in weaving the fabric of modern life. Pants in philosophy. Pants in war. And…

[Music starts to fade in: something orchestral by some baroque guy]

Pants in love.

[Music continues up. Picture fades away from NARRATOR, fades into a close-up of JULIET looking intensely at the camera]

JULIET: Romeo, oh Romeo. Where art thy pants?

[Pull back slowly. JULIET is on a balcony. Beneath her is ROMEO. He is not wearing any pants]

[Back to NARRATOR at desk]

NARRATOR: But let’s start at the very beginning. Let’s look at the Dawn of Pants.

[Shimmery bit of camera work; scene changes to a shot of jungle, loud bird noises, monkeys hooting in the background, that sort of thing. Hold long enough to establish shot, then GROG runs past as fast as he can. Immediately behind him is a Tyrannosaurus Rex. GROG is not wearing any pants. The Tyrannosaurus Rex is wearing pants]

NARRATOR (VOICEOVER): Is this where it all started?

[Scene changes to a PANEL OF EXPERTS sitting at a long table. Camera starts at far left, pans right. As it picks up each new person’s head, that expert speaks. Very serious]

MATT: Yes.

GROG: No.

CARL SAGAN: Billions… er, yes.

TIGER WOODS: My putting was good, but my drives were short.

TYRANNOSAURUS REX: Yes.

[Cut to graphic. Three pairs of pants are stacked to show “Yes,” one pair of pants is stacked to show “No,” two pairs are stacked to show “Putting.” A pair of cut-off shorts shows “Drives.” Hold on graphic for three seconds]

[Scene changes back to NARRATOR at his desk]

NARRATOR: But pants didn’t really enter history until the Trojan War, when the cunning Odysseus suggested the Trojan Pants.

[Scene changes to outside ancient Troy. A huge pair of wooden pants stands on the plain outside. After a minute, the gates of Troy open and the Trojans come out and pull the pants inside the walls with a giant pair of suspenders]

NARRATOR (VOICEOVER): And not until Roman times did pants really become part of the mainstream of history.

[Camera moves smoothly along a Roman road. It passes a series of stone pants on the side of the road. Chiseled on the pants are the following inscriptions:

WHEN THE ROMAN LEGIONS CONQVERED FRANCE THEIR WHISKERS CAME OFF SO DID THEIR PANTS BVRMA SHAVE ]

[Scenes change to various examples of Roman architecture. An aqueduct is supported on arches; camera zooms in on an arch, we see it is a pair of pants made of stone blocks. Close-up of a stone gate: zoom back so we can see it is the fly of a pair of mostly buried pants. The Colosseum: the arches are carved in pants. A series of temples; pillars are in the shapes of pants…]

[halleyscomment]

Godforsakenwritersblock!

I sit down and nothing.

NOTHING!

I look back on a time when I could sit at my keyboard and effortlessly spout off big words and gaudy phraseology. Now… recently… I have not uttered a word that is not part of the vernacular of an average person. I can no longer exult in the witticisms that once graced the pages.

Despitemytrialsandtribulations I will at least try to produce a page worth of your intellect and the time energy that you must exert to read it.

Bob Ross once told me, in a dream, to “Let the horse out of the barn and your life will do one of these,” (He took his right hand and made a gesture as one would do when telling someone to take a right turn while using their right hand.)

What the hell does that mean?

He’s such an enigmatic little fellow…

[halleyscomment]

89542.254 multiplied by 54.2 equals 4853190.1

Coincidence?

4+8+5+3+1+9+0 = 30+.1 =30.1

Spooky isn’t it.

Let’s try another one.

958752.35 divided by 25.24 equals 37985.43

Round to the nearest whole number.

37985

I’m as surprised as you are.

3+7+9+8+5 = 32

Can it be possible?

Let’s combine the totals.

30.1 + 32 = 62.1

Round it off

62

6+2 = 8

Incredible.

Monday is the 8th day of the month.

Monday is the first day of a five day work week.

8+1 = 9

Profound!

9

WOW!

I’m stunned.

[halleyscomment]

Unidentified Flying Rug Burns

The Dean of UFO Skeptics, Philip J. Klass, reports in his ‘Skeptics UFO Newsletter’ that Joe Baron, MUFON’s (Mutual UFO Network) chief investigator for the UFO “hot zones” of Gulf Breeze and Pensacola, Florida; allegedly has discovered a new UFO landing strip: the carpet inside his house.

Barron reports discovering two mysterious 7-inch-diameter indentations in his carpet after having heard a very loud noise.

Three more identical rings were found in another room.

Barron concluded that, “as a result of the loud noise, and finding the rings, contact was established with me by some entity which, at this moment, is a mystery to me.”

Klass also reports that UFO lecturer, Robert Dean, told an enthusiastic audience at last year’s UFO conference in Pensacola, Florida, that, “there are aliens mining the moon. They have bases on the moon.”

“Not one, but four different alien species are operating on our moon,” he says, “and one species looks exactly like earthlings.”

“All of our astronauts know it, and many of them are having nervous breakdowns,” according to Dean.

“In fact,” Dean says, the reason NASA ended its program of manned lunar flight is that “we were told to get off the moon and stay off.”

- excerpt from ‘Skeptical Inquirer’ magazine