Knock Knock

After a two-year hiatus, I'm attempting a comeback. I have abandoned whatever principle initially compelled me to abandon this blog. I return with no plan and no goal, just a full-throttle major blogging explosion.

I shall begin with some bad knock-knock jokes.

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Robot.
Robot who?
Robot police! You're under arrest!

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Seriously, it's the robot police.
Seriously, it's the robot police who?
Seriously, it's the ROBOT POLICE! This isn't a game! We're here for the children you kidnapped! Open up or we'll efficiently and emotionlessly bust down your door!

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Row, row, row your boat.
Row, row, row your boat who?
Row, row, ROBOT POLICE! We're not joking about arresting you, though. We have a warrant to take you to jail for your numerous crimes.

Knock knock.
Who's there?
All your criminal friends.
All your criminal friends who?
All your criminal friends have been eaten alive by the ROBOT POLICE! Your only chance to avoid the same fate is to open the door and be arrested!

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Banana.
Banana who?
Orange you glad I didn't say robot police? Oh wait...crap, I screwed that one up. I meant to say, aren't you glad I didn't say ROBOT POLICE?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Boo.
Boo who?
Boo--it's the ROBOT POLICE! And you should stop crying. We didn't actually eat your criminal friends. We are fueled by a combination of battery and solar power, not human flesh.

Thank you.

Bees Unleashed

I always thought there should be more bees in the news. Cuz everyone likes bees, right? What's not to like about bees? They're like clowns, only funnier and more obviously striped.

So today my hopes were finally realized: "Driver in bee-infested crash ordered something something whatever." I don't know if you need to read the story, since there's a lot of non-bee-related stuff in there. Just check out the following paragraph.

Styrbicky's semi was likely traveling at a "pretty high" speed when it crushed two cars into the back of the other truck hauling more than 17 million bees, Roeske said. Firefighters at the scene battled through clouds of bees released when their hives were destroyed. The cars and the other truck had stopped for road construction.

Wow, seventeen MILLION bees! What if you had your windows down? The bees would pour in! They'd have nowhere else to go but into your car! Your car would become more bee than machine. The hum of the motor would actually be the hum of hundreds of bees that are now controlling your engine. Need to get gas at the next exit? Think again, because your car now runs on bees and bees alone.

And once the bees take over your car's steering, they'll drive you to the nearest bee compound where they'll keep you captive for months. They'll feed you bees for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You'll start to think like a bee, and your correspondence to your family and friends will have an increased usage of the letter "z." Your bee masters will gradually increase your diet of bees until the bees inside you take control and transform you into a hideous human-bee hybrid.

The bee-people will be much more efficient workers than regular people. Regular people will lose their jobs as companies hire bee-people at lower wages. Regular people will spend what little money they have on exorbitantly priced non-bee products, like combs and windows, and bee-people will grow in economic power and take over society. The bee-people will elect a bee president, and the bee president will make it illegal to eat anything but bees, and we'll all become bee-people who re-elect the bee president for an unprecedented 13 terms. Only after 52 years under the tyranny of the same bee will we realize that it was actually several different bees, and we could never tell the difference.

Considering the likelihood of this frightening scenario, we should get to work on writing a Constitutional amendment that prohibits bees from being elected to executive office.

Bad Toast Jokes

SLICE of BREAD: It’s so cold in here.
SLICE of TOAST: Really? I’m rather toasty.

SLICE of TOAST #1: Would you like anything to drink?
SLICE of TOAST #2: Sure, I do feel a little parched.
SLICE of TOAST #1: Great. And do you mind if I turn the heat down a little bit? It’s getting too toasty.
SLICE of TOAST #2: That’s fine, I was feeling a little toasty myself.

SLICE of TOAST #1: Thank you all for coming to my daughter’s wedding. If you don’t mind, I’d like to make a toast to—
SLICE of TOAST #2: (so loud it interrupts TOAST #1) Brrr...can somebody turn up the heat?
SLICE of TOAST #3: I think it’s toasty enough in here.

(At a beach)
SLICE of TOAST #1: Everybody get out of the water! There’s a shark!
SLICE of TOAST #2: Don’t worry, sharks don’t eat toast.
(Laughter all around)
SLICE of TOAST #1: He’s right! Let’s all enjoy the sun on this beautiful day!
A different SLICE of TOAST: Yes, it certainly is toasty today!

PERSON A: Which do you prefer, bread or toast?
PERSON B: Toast.
PERSON A: Why?
PERSON B: Because it makes me feel toasty!
PERSON A: Why do you always do that?
PERSON B: Do what?
PERSON A: Add –y to the end of a word like it’s funny. It’s annoying.
PERSON B: I don’t always do that. Just sometimes.
PERSON A: Whatever.
PERSON B: Did you just come here to ask me if I liked toast or bread?
PERSON A: Mostly. Also because my house is cold.
PERSON B: Well, come on in! It’s nice and toasty in here!
PERSON A: Why’s that?
PERSON B: Because I just had some toast!

The Schemes of Bears

Two bears are eyeing a campsite and the people therein.

BEAR #1: So you’re saying, if we kill those humans and take their clothes, they’ll finally let us into the movies?
BEAR #2: Absolutely.
BEAR #1: It just doesn’t sound like it’ll work.
BEAR #2: Listen, I’ve been studying this for weeks now, and the only difference between us and the people they let into the movies is clothes.
BEAR #1: But we’re also much bigger and harrier than people.
BEAR #2: That’s why we tell them that we’re wrestlers.
BEAR #1: Oh.
BEAR #2: Our wrestler names will be Kodiak Bear and Grizzly Bear.
BEAR #1: Won’t that give away the fact that we’re bears?
BEAR #2: Oh, right. I just really like being a bear.
(pause)
BEAR #1: Anyway, I still think there’s gotta be a better way to get into the movies than wearing people clothes and saying we’re famous wrestlers with bear names.
BEAR #2: There’s not. Believe me, I’ve thought about this a lot.
BEAR #1: What about renting a movie?
BEAR #2: I can’t even believe you’d suggest that.
BEAR #1: We have a pretty big TV.
BEAR #2: No. Not when we could go see a movie in real 3-D on a screen eight bears tall and twelve bears wide.
BEAR #1: Oh, I just remembered that they don’t rent to bears anymore.
BEAR #2: Why not?
BEAR #1: I don’t know. Last time I went to rent a movie, they just said no bears. They didn’t give me a reason.
BEAR #2: Then even more reason to kill the humans, steal their clothes and pretend to be wrestlers.
BEAR #1: Maybe we could steal their clothes without killing them.
BEAR #2: Explain.
BEAR #1: Like, when they’re sleeping, we just go into their tent and take their clothes.
BEAR #2: You mean like take their clothes off of them?
BEAR #1: Well, we could, but that would be difficult. I meant like taking the clothes from their bags.
BEAR #2: I still prefer the killing option.
BEAR #1: But they might not let us into the movies if our clothes are bloodied and torn up by bear claws.
BEAR #2: Hmm…but they might let us into the hospital if they thought we were humans who had been attacked by bears. And then we can escape from the hospital and sneak into a movie!
BEAR #1: That is the worst idea—
HUMAN: Look, bears! Everybody run!
BEAR #2: Let’s just get em and go with the hospital idea.
BEAR #1: Fine.

Inside an Apple, or, My Descent into Madness

Scene: the inside of an apple, which has been hollowed out somehow. Apparently people live there, as two neighbors meet to discuss something.

NEIGHBOR #1: So you just moved in to the apple, huh?
NEIGHBOR #2: Into the what?
NEIGHBOR #1: The apple.
NEIGHBOR #2: This is an apple? I thought we just bought a new house.
NEIGHBOR #1: You did, but your house is inside an apple.
NEIGHBOR #2: How did that happen?
NEIGHBOR #1: How did what happen?
NEIGHBOR #2: How did our new house get inside of an apple?
NEIGHBOR #1: It's always been inside of an apple.
NEIGHBOR #2: But--
NEIGHBOR #1: Oh look, it's the Apple King!
APPLE KING: Hello, how are you on this fine apple day?
NEIGHBOR #2: Hey, I just--
NEIGHBOR #1: We're doing excellent, O wonderful Apple King!
APPLE KING: You haven't seen my baseball card collection, have you?
NEIGHBOR #1: No, I'm afraid we haven't, my king. You lost it again?
APPLE KING: Yes, yes, it always seems to get away from me. Hopefully that dastardly Duke of Pineapple hasn't already gotten his greedy mitts on it.
NEIGHBOR #1: If the Duke shows his face around here, I'll be sure to sock him one for you, your majesty.
APPLE KING: Thank you, loyal serf. I'll remember you the next time there's an opening on the Board of Juicification.
NEIGHBOR #1: Oh king! That's always been my dream!
APPLE KING: Then let us dance the dance of apples!
They dance.
NEIGHBOR #2: Maybe living inside an apple won't be that bad after all.
NEIGHBOR #2'S WIFE: Honey, did you know that our house is inside an apple?
NEIGHBOR #2: I know, Mildred. I know.

Missed Penguins

Hey everybody! I found a blog the other day (thanks to the indirect recommendation of someone whose company I enjoy, albeit infrequently) that posts illustrations to accompany the "missed connections" personals in New York papers. It's a really beautiful blog, and I mean that sincerely. It also inspired me to write my own version of "missed connections" from the perspective of a penguin. Enjoy!

A Penguin's Missed Connections by Bertrand G. Penguington


I was on one of the trains--I don't know which one it was because I can't read--and you stared at me and smiled while you were talking on the phone with your boyfriend. Your hat was cute. I was the penguin.

You almost got in my cab somewhere around 47th. You said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know this was taken." I would have said that you could join me, but I couldn't open my beak fast enough. In case you don't remember, I was the penguin.

You're the only other penguin I've met in this penguin-forsaken city. I was also a penguin.

You kicked me when you were walking down the street somewhere in Manhattan. Maybe it was an accident, but you didn't even apologize. Do you hate penguins? (I was the penguin, by the way.)

I caught your eyes when we were at the zoo. Maybe you were wondering what I was doing walking around like a regular person. I was wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner. I hope you date penguins.

I muttered something under my breath about how a penguin can't get a break in this world, and you helped cheer me up. Then you threw me out the bus window. That was not cool, and I wanted you to know that.

Adventures in Urban Pigeon Hunting

A while back, my roommate Yorick (name changed to protect said roommate from legal action) bought a blow gun so he could take out the pigeons that so persistently poop on our doorstep and mailbox. To most this may seem like an extreme reaction to a minor problem, and it probably is. But I'm not here to criticize.

So check this out:


This, friends, is a pigeon with a dart in its neck. As if that wasn't already pretty obvious.

So in the course of Yorick's hunting, he's nailed many-a-pigeon in the neck, but he's only had one confirmed kill. Most of the time he hits them and they just fly off, presumably to die elsewhere. Apparently, though, they never die and end up flying around with these darts stuck in 'em like nothing ever happened.

We all knew pigeons were stupid. But stupid enough to go on living and pooping like normal despite the unrelenting presence of a dart in the neck? That's beyond what any of us could have hoped or dreamed.

The greatest insult of all? This pigeon is going to poop on our doorstep so much more now. Or maybe the greatest insult will be when one of these pigeon shows up at the police station and "Yorick" ends up getting arrested after a lengthy sting operation. In either case, it would have been much more efficient to use a bazooka.

The Magnificent Game

The Internets are alive today with thoughts on the incredible Game 6 of the Bulls-Celtics playoff series, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Bulls won in 3 overtimes. In six games, there have been seven overtimes, and five of those six games have been decided by one play. It's incredible. It being fresh in my mind, I wanted to record some thoughts. I'll post something funny later.

Since Game 3 or 4, some people have been calling this possibly the best playoff series in NBA history. It's been that good. But what really gets me is the fan reaction after Game 6. People haven't just been talking about the team they want to win, but they're talking about their love for the game, and how that love is captured in this moment (or series of moments).

Sports almost never does this, but it can reach a level where it brings something out of us, the fans, that transcends the game. I mean, every sports fan wants to see a good game, and we see a lot of bad ones, but every fifty years or so there's something that's more than just a good game. It's something that brings people together, even people who really wouldn't care otherwise. This Bulls-Celtics series is approaching something special like that. I know it sounds ridiculous, but if you read around the net, you'll know what I mean.

If you'll allow me to get really overdramatic, it reminds me of the Miracle on Ice. People got on board for this Olympic hockey game like never before, and maybe hockey was more popular in 1980, but even then, this game brought the country together. A hockey game. In 1980, the only hockey teams south of the Mason-Dixon line were in LA and Atlanta, and the Atlanta team moved to Canada the following season. Somehow, this game that appealed more to some Canadians than most Americans still caught our hearts. I don't think we can imagine anything, let alone a sports game, uniting us like that today. But it was about more than patriotism or anything like that. As easy as it was to draw political lines, that doesn't speak to the heart of the fanaticism over a hockey game. This was something more, something you can't put your finger on. And the feeling everybody got when those guys won, well, see Miracle. I cry every time I watch that movie.

It makes me want to part of a Magnificent Game. We love games like this because we want to be part of something like that. We want the struggle, the back-and-forth, the come-from-behind victory, the back-breaking impossible play. But since most of us will never be in a sports moment like that, we want that with our lives. That's why it speaks to our hearts and not just our rooting interests, because the struggle really matters.

We can make a game out of everything, but how do you make it truly Magnificent? We play the money game, the sex game, the fame game, the knowledge game, whatever. But to really matter, you have to have a magnificent goal, a magnificent end. If I play for money my whole life, it won't mean a thing in the end. I want to think eternally, and then I want to think about how my life can be a Magnificent Game forever. I mean, whoever wins this Bulls-Celtics series will get beat by LeBron and the Cavs. In the bizarre chance that one of these teams wins the championship, then they play for a few more years, get old, retire, and maybe even end up trying to sell their championship rings on eBay (as many former champions are doing now). It's a fading glory at best.

I need something that really matters. So I want to struggle against evil and fight for truth. I want to fight back when I'm down one (or ten), even if the devil keeps coming back and taking the lead from me. And there's so many ways to take this metaphor, like designing the right plays and going for the unbelievable shots, but I'll just leave it at that. To me, it comes down to whether I'm playing the right game.

Glowing Cats 2: Glowing Dogs

In what is fast becoming a South Korean Renaissance, South Korean scientists have now cloned glowing dogs.




You may remember a very similar story from about a year and a half ago in which South Korean scientists cloned glowing cats.

The glowing cats were a surprise. It was surprising that there was a scientific endeavor to make animals glow in the dark. It was surprising that it worked. It was surprising that they were cloned. It was surprising that it happened in South Korea.

The glowing dogs are not nearly as interesting. And I hate cats. Honestly, dogs are supposed to be way cooler, and I just can't get excited about this. The dogs don't even glow very brightly. If they fought in the dark, the cats would totally lose because they'd be way more visible.

I can't say this glowing dogs move was predictable, though. I mean, I think that once you clone glowing cats, you'd pretty much call it a day on the cloning of animals that glow. I'm sure there are people out there who, after cloning their first glowing animal, would say, "Now I need to make them all glow!" But I figured none of those people would actually be scientists.

The news story claims that these dogs were cloned with "techniques that could help develop cures for human diseases." If this were actually true, these scientists would have started on those cures after the glowing cats thing worked out. This was all about the glowing animals.

Perhaps less predictable than all of this, though, is that my blog is gradually becoming South-Korea-themed.

Second Dolphin-Related Post This Month

Let's be honest with ourselves. Nobody knows the difference between dolphins and porpoises. The sooner we can own up to that, the better.


Speaking of porpoises, I'm rediscovering my love for purpose/porpoise wordplay. Please enjoy the following examples of it!

NASA DIRECTOR: (Immediately following a spaceship explosion) I sure hope that was an accident.
SOME GUY: Actually, I did it on porpoise.
(Everybody laughs)

QUESTIONING GUY: What does this button do?
ANSWERING GUY: The porpoise of that button is to turn on the awesome alarm.
QUESTIONING GUY: Did you say "porpoise"?
ANSWERING GUY: Umm, no, I said purpose.
QUESTIONING GUY: I could have sworn you said "porpoise."
ANSWERING GUY: OK, yeah, I did say "porpoise."

KID: Hey daddy, look at the dolphin!
DAD: Actually, son, that's a purpose.
KID: A purpose?
DAD: Oh wait, I guess it is a dolphin.

Sheep

Hey, what happened to all the sheep? They were here just a second ago. Seriously, like 400 sheep, and now they're all gone. That many sheep don't just disappear. Or if they do, there's no precedent for it, so I'm reluctant to believe it.

I mean, I just went to get a hot dog. It's not like I fell asleep while watching The English Patient like last time. The sheep definitely didn't have three hours to plan and execute an escape.

Man, this hot dog is good.

But seriously, did you see where the sheep went? Of course you didn't. You were too busy thinking about the hot dog you were selling me, weren't you? Man, you hot dog salesman are all the same. You don't care about anything but hot dogs. And as soon as someone loses track of 400 sheep, you're all, "I didn't see anything. I was just selling some hot dogs." Typical.

Being a shepherd really sucks, you know? I used to be a software technician, but I got laid off. Now it's just me and the sheep. Or, I guess now it's just me. Just me and this delicious hot dog.

When I got this job, the boss explicitly told me never to take my eyes off the sheep. But what am I supposed to do? Not get a hot dog? I guess he has a point, though. I did lose track of all the sheep.

I don't care if I get fired for losing all those sheep. This hot dog is so worth it.


I am a little curious, though. What ever happened to all those sheep? Maybe we'll never know.

Oh, there they are.

The Ugly Dolphin

Ever wondered what it'd be like to be a dolphin without a nose?


Approximately 6,000 dolphins do not wonder that. They are familiar with how it feels to be noseless dolphins.

Hopefully that answers any questions you might have.