I am a good employee; honest, hardworking, and not a terrorist. But sometimes, something seems a little off about me, like my mind is wandering, dreaming of hills once traversed and streams once forded as the mighty ox fords a raging river -- for in my youth I was an ox among men. Strong, but supple, and caring, and always alert for danger in any form, whether it be flora or bees. But I never abandoned my post, as an ox on that small stream; always watching for danger, fording streams, and posing for ox magazines. I stood astride that little plot of land like a colossus, lost in the mists of time, searching for my escape, my break into the world of mainstream ox-magazine modeling. And someday, that break will come.
Talking to Swedish people shouldnt be this much fun...
Zero: Im bored
Jonas: im bored too
Zero: lets conquer the universe!
Zero: or, better yet! we can start a cult!
Jonas: oh yea
Jonas: internet cult!
Zero: i get to be the High Priest of the Sock People, ok?
Jonas: but i wanted that title!
Zero: you can be... Supreme Commander of the Unwashed Masses
Zero: i am also the Lord of Counterprodictivity
Zero: we can call ourselves Team Winner!™
Jonas: im OverLord of Inactivity or idling
Zero: go Team Winner!™
Zero: now we just need metal hats that travel through time
Zero: that way, if you forget your hat, it will travel through time to be sure it is where you need it when you need it
Jonas: i know how we can fund our cult
Zero: ooh! funding
Jonas: we take pictures of a temple
Jonas: then we go back in time and make sure it doenst get build
Jonas: the pics will be very valuable!
Zero: either that or we can start a psychic hotline like that "miss cleo" chick
Jonas: or both
Zero: you know any voodoo bitches that can tell the future?
*** -email email@example.com (Jonas) has signed off
I heard that you've started posting again. This is good, as I've developed an embarrassing case of content-scurvy. While I know that my salvation is only a few keystrokes away, I don't have the strength to remember the url. In the meantime, what would you recommend to speed along my recovery?
--Spotty in Scranton
Well SiS, it's reassuring to hear that even during a long production drought we still manage to hold regular readers. While it's flattering to get the odd "asciiporn" searcher, it is you, the webgrunts who trudge back here day after day, that make it all worth it. As for your "embarrassing" ailment, watch Curb your Enthusiasm regularly, read a book by David Sedaris and visit your grandparents in a mauve crushed velvet jumper. I realize that last one seem a bit confusing, but I assure you it's for my amusement absolutely critical.
I pray this was just someone looking to play a joke.
Session Start (MSN - Lucas:Shadys Princess): Sun Oct 20 02:16:08 2002
Shadys Princess: why are you always away
Lucas: excuse me, I'm not sure who this is...
Shadys Princess: who is this
Lucas: Lucas Holloway
Shadys Princess: yeah
Shadys Princess: is dell with u?
Shadys Princess: DANIELLE
Lucas: I'm not sure who you mean
Shadys Princess: your girlfriend
Lucas: I think you have the wrong guy
Lucas: either that or I'm in trouble
Shadys Princess: what
Shadys Princess: dont be stupid
Shadys Princess: ?
Lucas: I've never dated anyone named Danielle
Shadys Princess: is she there or not?
Lucas: No, I have no idea who you're talking about
Shadys Princess: this is danielle isnt it
Lucas: it isn't
Lucas: My name is Lucas
Shadys Princess: where do you live
Lucas: Williamstown, MA
Lucas: going to college
Lucas: enjoying it immensely
Shadys Princess: where is that?
Shadys Princess: ?
Shadys Princess: ?
Shadys Princess: ?
Lucas: Where is Williamstown, Massachusetts?
Lucas: isn't that rather self-evident?
Shadys Princess: i dont live in america i dont now the little short names for the states and tone down some of the language cos im not quite sure what some of it means
Lucas: sorry, I guess
Lucas: I wasn't aware
Lucas: and this is how I talk, but I'll try to use words with fewer syllables
Shadys Princess: thanks
Shadys Princess: so is del with you?
Lucas: no, I assure you she isn't
Shadys Princess: where is she?
Shadys Princess: ?
Lucas: I don't know the person you're talking about
Shadys Princess: shure..how did you get her email address then surly a guy of your standard and intelligence wouldnt talk to del unless you knew her
Shadys Princess: your status is still set to away
Lucas: Well, I don't know what you mean by "get her email address"
Lucas: I've had this one for a while
Lucas: I don't believe I've ever talked to anyone named "del" via MSN
Shadys Princess: so how did you get it in b4
Lucas: How did I get it in before?
Lucas: I'm not sure what you mean by that
Shadys Princess: i dont either so ill rephrase it how did you get her email address
Lucas: I didn't know that I had it
Lucas: what e-mail address are you referring to?
Shadys Princess: danielles
Lucas: which is...
Shadys Princess: this one i thought you where supposed to be smart
Lucas: you mean "firstname.lastname@example.org"
Lucas: well, if I remember correctly, she added me to her list
Shadys Princess: yes
Shadys Princess: well if
Shadys Princess: i remember correctly you added her
Lucas: and since I wasn't sure who she was, I added her to mine, assuming that sometime I would find out who's e-mail it was
Shadys Princess: so i think you remembered rong
Shadys Princess: whats that sposed to mean?
Lucas: I'm at a loss
Lucas: for words, that is
Shadys Princess: who thought of that, its really dumb
Lucas: the phrase "at a loss for words?"
Shadys Princess: no o....k.... meaning im lossed for words is
Lucas: I don't think anyone "thought it up" in the traditional sense
Lucas: You really think that I tracked down the e-mail address of someone I've never met to add to my contact list?
Shadys Princess: what doese in the traditional sense mean?
Lucas: where are you from?
Shadys Princess: no i think your my sisters boyfriend and then you added her to your list
Shadys Princess: Australia
Lucas: I'm not your sister's boyfriend, I think she mistook me for someone else.
Shadys Princess: you mean mislead
Shadys Princess: i think you are
Shadys Princess: ?
Shadys Princess: ?
Shadys Princess: ?
Shadys Princess: are you ritch?
Shadys Princess: ]
Lucas: I don't know how many times I have to say "I'm not your sister's boyfriend" before you'll believe me
Lucas: I am not lying, or misleading, or anything of the sort
Lucas: My name is not Ritch
Lucas: I'm not rich
Shadys Princess: i wont belive you unless they come home and your still chatting to me
Lucas: well, I don't exactly relish the idea of chatting until that happens, sorry
Shadys Princess: then why do you talk like that if your not rich
Shadys Princess: that was not nice
Lucas: it's 2:45 am my time
Lucas: I was planning on going to bed
Shadys Princess: you really hurt my feelings
Shadys Princess: well thats too bad
Lucas: how considerate
Shadys Princess: have you got a pic
Lucas: None handy
Lucas: Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with my pillow, otherwise I'm going to pass out onto the keyboard.
Shadys Princess: is wherever you are in central america
Lucas: no, it's on the East coast
Shadys Princess: your a fag
Lucas: good luck finding "del"
Shadys Princess: yeah thanks
Session Start: Fri Jan 18 14:08:11 2002
Lucas: Iggy Pop
jonah: Lust for Life
Lucas: Fashion Nugget
jonah: Chicken Little
jonah: Secondhand Crack
Lucas: The Moose
Lucas: Happy Birthday
jonah: The Tie that Binds
Lucas: Concept Art
jonah: Imperfect Spheres
Lucas: Shit-Faced Lobsters
jonah: Magnetic Monopole
Lucas: Fuck and Run
Lucas: Arbitrary Abrasion
jonah: Dereliction Exhibition
Lucas: Disillusioned Public Servants
jonah: Virtual Boy
*** Lucas signed off at Fri Jan 18 14:19:44 2002.
*** Lucas signed on at Fri Jan 18 14:19:46 2002.
*** Lucas signed off at Fri Jan 18 14:19:52 2002.
Submitted for your approval: The disappearance of WftB contributors. Along with the screwed-up HTML on the bottom of the site. Evidence? E-mail correspondence between Jonah, in Seattle, and Lucas ... in the depths of The Twilight Zone.
On Thu, 1 Nov 2001, jonah edwards wrote:
Hey, some of the HTML on the web site is screwed up a bit... the Old Posts link is gone from the sidebar, the counter isn't up, and there's a generic post (with actual PHP coding in it) down at the bottom....
Have we been ... hacked?
Date: Thu, 01 Nov 2001 18:36:26 -0500 (EST)
No, it was me, will explain later...
Possible causes? Alien Abduction. Although that's not too likely. Maybe we're all just busy with mid-terms, although I'd like to think that's not the case, seeing as what happened last time it was. Maybe it's just collective creative lag. Maybe it's the demon Belphegor, sucking the life out of me via a curly straw inserted in the base of my skull. All of these are possibilities SAVE ME FROM BELPHEGOR! but we can't pretend to know what the truth is. Here, in the Twilight Zone.
The views expressed by Jonah on this website do not reflect the views of Rod Serling, Burgess Meredith, William Shatner, or any of the other myriad characters portrayed in the syndicated television show The Twilight Zone. Which is kind of surprising, seeing as Jonah's views aren't really *that* unusual, and there were a lot of characters in The Twilight Zone. Whatever.
Jonah will be offering a one-time only prize of seventy-five billion deutschmarks from 1920 to whoever tells him where that inital quote is from
Lucas Holloway passed away today, victim to a life-long battle with a rare form of metaphorical leprosy.
Once it became clear just how funny the similarity between the words Molokai and Moloko was, he couldn't hang on any longer in the face of such humorous conflict of interest, and passed away fitfully Saturday Night, much to the disdain of the three fates, who had intended for him to push a safe off of the top of a tall building onto Mitterand in two years.
His last request to me was to do a post that was both new material and self-referential, and given that the length of time between successive posts is proportional to the length of time between posts back in April, I thought it might be appropriate to (no, Jonah! Noooo!):
Aries - March 21 to April 19
Whoa, there, Aries. You've been playing a bit of a cock of the walk lately. Perhaps it's time for you to take on some harder ventures, branch out, try something you maybe haven't done before, submit to having your ego going down a bit. We recommend innuendo. Taurus - April. 20 to May 20
Once, when you were young, you had a fever. Your hands swelled up just like two balloons. Now you've got that fever once again, you can't put your finger on it, I do not understand, this is not how you are. Perhaps cutting down on hash would help you out. Gemini - May 21 to June 21
Hey, remember GeminiMan from the third Mega Man? His level had all of those fish in the bubbles that you had to shoot through? I'm pretty sure you used SnakeMan's Snake Shooter on him. Cancer - June 22 to July 22
You will die two days ago. Leo - July 23 to Aug. 22
Hey, you've got the lion sign. That must kick ass. You're all, "Hey, Bitch, I'm the lion. I'm ... I'm Mufasa, I'm Aslan, I'm badass." Virgo - Aug. 23 to Sept. 22
There once was this guy who was [a] Virgo.
He wasn't too great with women, ergo
He took up LaCross
He though it was "boss"
But it turns out he was wrong and couldn't write limericks either. Libra - Sept. 23 to Oct. 23
Justice has scales like those ones that symbolize your sign. Justice is blind. Remember that guy in your office who is always tossing pencils around? Scorpio - Oct. 24 to Nov. 21
Hey, your sign sounds like Serpico. How's that working out for you? Sagittarius - Nov. 22 to Dec. 21
So this guy's wife and kids leave him and the bank forecloses on his house and his car is vandalized and he's just at the breaking point and he goes into this bar and these biker guys kick his ass for dressing in a cardigan and he's you. That's pretty funny. Capricorn - Dec. 22 to Jan. 19
Capricornucopiae. Enough said, you poor son of a bitch. Aquarius - Jan. 20 to Feb. 18
Yarrr, Aquarius, ye best be careful this Hallow's Eve, lest ye and yer kin be sent to a watery grave by me, Regis Philbin the pirate. Arrr. Pisces - Feb. 19 to March 20
You will be stuck maintaining, against all common logic, a defunct website which has been virtually abandoned by your co-contributors! Damnit!
Well, I've tried just about everything, and nothing seems to make people magically sprout Banyan trees, or come to this site. So today we're going to tone it down, turn up the soundtrack to the box-office hit The Matrix, and generate a good ol' narrative. Three things will happen in this narrative -- first, a true story, that happened to me today. And then two other things.
So I have to do a bunch of homework today. It kind of sucks. And I run out of paper, so I'm all "Hey, me, better head over to the University Bookstore and get some paper." And I leave my dorm, and about twenty seconds later it starts raining like the river Phlegethon has come undam(n)med above my head. This is kind of funny to me, because it's all like, hey , Jonah's going to go and buy something for the specific purtpose of doing something he doesn't enjoy, and it's raining on him. Like the Travis song that's not written by some Material Girl Nouveau. You all know what I mean. So I'm wearing a shirt that's sort of the same color as the lighter slate blue that decorates this web site, and you know what happens when water gets on that color (it pretty much turns it navy blue). So I look like an idiot, buying paper to do homework on at the University bookstore, and I leave, and it's sunny out, no more rain. So I think, "Hey, cool, I don't have to walk back in the rain." And I swear to God, not three minutes later IT WAS HAILING ON ME. And it was still sunny out. I laughed so hard that I had to stand under an eve leaning on the wall because I COULDN'T MOVE. Ha ha.
That may well be the least entertaining story ever told. I was working on a post a little while ago, but I hit a mental block ("Officer, this short-form humor author careened headlong into a mental block. He has sustained severe spinal trauma. Ha ha ha!") and stopped. Here, uncensored, is the beginnings of that post.
I have made a decision
Why? To get rid of that damnable "ring around the collar." You know.
Today's Presentation: Tasteless Jokes
Why is it that homeless women always have 80's hair?
I've started to reference the height that a truck is jacked up to by the approximate age of the tallest child that could fit beneath it while it is driving.
Yeah. So we can all tell that was just going to spiral down into a chasm of pain and unpleasantness. Which is why it's good that I've ceased. Etc.
We will provide content. But first, we will provide excuses.
Lucas was moving into his dorm and I had some kind of nervous breakdown so we couldn't I mean we wanted to but it was hard to deal and stuff kept happening like a whirlpool it never ends but we're okay I've gotten on the Zoloft (just kidding Mom) and Lucas is settling in and hopefully working on new stuff fun new stuff maybe a layout I don't know but really the reason I didn't post couldn't post is that I was in the terrifying midst of a moral crisis
Yes, that's right. A crisis. But I came out of it more aware than ever, aware of the problems we face as a society and as an internet community. And since I am enlightenedwhat a jerk!I have decided to provide the internet -- nay, the world, with a
Unlike modern apostasy, which defies God's law by not bowing down to some sort of ethic, I will provide a simple framework from which to base one's morals. You don't have to obey my laws -- but keep in mind that if you disobey them, you are still abiding by my framework. In fact, if you are even aware that these laws exist, you have fallen into my trap. Ha ha ha ha!
The new belief system I am now presenting will make many judgements, but do not take them badly. They are but guides, they are not absolute declarations. Be not hard with this device, as it is but a paraphrase, caught in the web of this mortal coil.
Jokes about the "eleventh commandment" are not funny, although when this guy you know laughs, and then looks introspective, then asks, "Hey, guys, what the real eleventh commandment?" It's pretty damn funny. (It was Jesse.)
Look what you made us do! We combined list humor, hyperlink-reference humor, and unnecessary wordplay into one big quiche lorraine of slightly humorous fun.
Okay, you caught me -- I'm merely trying to provoke Lucas into posting. But is that so wrong?
That's actually not a rhetorical question, and it can be proven that according to the moral framework nouveau that I have afforded you, the answer is that it is not wrong. Take that, you dirty, ugly, kinky, deterministic philosophers!
Metaphor humor as well -- I tell you, here at WftB we just don't hold back like we used to... Please take a raucous gulp from our new column... WftB Remembers: The Good Old Days, when Lucas and VD in the same sentence was just wishful thinking
First of all, I'm kidding. Since it's only... Let's see... Monday, Lucas couldn't possibly have VD yet. But wait! Here come the memories... Let's see what our royal bitch of an id has dredged from the recesses of the attic that composes our long-term memory storage this time:
Once, I fell asleep behind a piano, and my parents thought I ran away and then called 911. What the hell is that all about? A fucking piano? I was one lame-ass kid!
Did you ever watch the show Marshall Bravestar? It was this really racist cartoon. Also offensive to women, animals, and Marshalls, If IRemember Correctly...
When I was small and weak, my older sister told me she was psychic (her name is Miss Cleo, by the way), and I asked, "Am I seikik?" (sp?), and she said, "No, you're psycho." So fuck that, oversized Panda bear. Name hisself Amilard for all I could eat lipstick.
When the hell is New Years coming? This year has been REALLY FREAKING LONG.
Urine is sterile. You can drink it. (Anyone who knows where I specifically got this get a buck.)
Tune in next week, for more f-ugly humor, the likes of which have never been properly catagorized! Humor taxonomy, that's all we're good for!
Okay, perhaps that was a poorly thought out idea. But rest assured that today's post, while not entirely worth the wait, is still better than anything you could have thought up, YOU INSIGNIFICANT TOAD! As you can see, it will be a post of grossly exaggerated pretend rage. Huzzah!
The reason for the delay is threefold:
I just got my computer, and they frown on anything and everything in the computer labs here.
I forgot our URL. No, really. It's really hard to remember. Really hard.
Apparently, it's April again. Remember April? Those were dark days metaphorically, rendered ironic by sunlight and cookies and lemonade and picnics. You unimaginable bastards!
So here I am again, trying to be funny so that you can feel a little better about your impotence. Ha ha -- of course I'm kidding. You're not impotent. (Some impotent guy reads that, cries.) But all of my ideas are gone! Sucked out of my brain by the ElectroLux of mnemonics and a stupid, stupid, stupid lab partner for physics. So I will fall back on slapstick!
Reader: But this is a web site, and you suck bad at Flash or Java or framesets or even closing HTML tags. How will you pull it off?
Jonah: By using strange forms to engage the target audience and make them curious to read more.
Reader: But wouldn't self-referentiality be easier?
Jonah: Ha ha! Gotcha!
Reader: You cheap fuck. I will never read your weblog again.
Jonah: No! Wait! I didn't mean to offend you that badly! Come back! Lucas will beat beat me with a rusty pipe!
Lucas: No, I won't. And Jonah is a pathological liar.
Reader: Wait a sec, the credit at the end of this post only lists Jonah as author. So how did Lucas say something?
Jonah: Um... ESP?
Reader: Jonah, that's just sad. The very least you could do is try to be funny.
Jonah: That was funny! Lucas will get all weirded out when he reads it. Won't you, Lucas?
Lucas: Yes. Also I'm making oatmeal with bacon bits in it while wearing nothing but a feather boa and a leather skullcap. And hundreds of people are watching.
Jonah: See, Reader, aren't cheap shots funny?
Reader: Okay, that will be kind of funny when Lucas reads it. But, in three out of four readings of this document, I'm not Lucas. So what benefit does this provide me?
Jonah: Look, I'm new at this. Go and read my irony post.
Reader: Oh no, you're not getting rid of me that easily.
Real Lucas: Hey, guys, what's going on ... What the fuck? Jonah! I didn't do that!
Real Lucas: You're really running out of ideas, Jonah
Jonah: *cries* I'm sorry... I just... I want... I don't know.. I WANT TO BE FUNNY!
Reader: Now you're just making me nervous.
Real Lucas: Well, making fun of my constant cross-dressing and sadomasochism isn't going to get you anywhere in that department.
Jonah: *wipes tears away* I'm so sorry...
Well, the Late Night talk shows are back on, and as such, I assume this is our cue.
If humor isn't your thing right now, you can leave and go somewhere boring, like StileProject or eBay. Go ahead.
Do you live for excitement? Naturally! So what would you say to a one-time, read-only offer of ten thousand brisling sardines, packed in olive oil, and delivered unwrapped and unsolicited to your home? YES? We thought so! Which is why your IP address has been logged and traced. Expect them in three to seven weeks!
Do you enjoy free services? If so, you've got to check out the new portfolio of cool stuff offered by dot-com success Water for the Blind. We are expanding our operations to include:
Campy remakes of literary classics... This week: Jim Henson's Muppet's Trial and Death of Socrates
What does it all mean?
Q: Will WftB continue providing the fifth humor (that is, short-form)? A: Well, yes and no. You will continue to find interesting and jaded articles, but they will be entirely composed of advertiser slogans. Q: Why is family-oriented television making such a comeback in the fall ineup for network television? A: Well, cable has been drawing both children and adults away from traditional network shows, and so they will air these family-oriented programs, like Philly, Undeclared, and Reruns of COPS to lure those audiences back. Q: Look, we're sick of your self-rightousness. When we ask for a humorous web-log, we'd prefer not to have to deal with references to
Old Video Games
T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land
Anything fibrous at all
A: That's not a question. But thanks for playing!
As you can see, just like William H. Macy, WftB is constantly and vigorously evolving. Owtch! Ha ha. Everything we do is part of an elegant plan (choreographed by the always brilliant and esoteric Paul Lansky). Unlike natural selection, we are directed and non-fractal (with the exception of Lucas, who is the Swiss Army Mandelbrot Set of weblong contributors).
We will be undergoing a major redesign sometime in the next week. We wil also be undergoing another archival soon, as this page is getting long. But most importantly, we will be undergoing some sort of surgury, not unnecessary, but just... well, let's just make WftB into an adjective, shall we... Wuhftubby.
In the spirit of what seem to be... A Series of Studies!
We now present a study endorsed by two out of three Water for the Blind contributors and that last dentist who doesn't like Crest because once he worked in the Crest plant and found the quality control to be lacking.
So without further deliberation... Why hasn't natural selection wiped out existenialists?
The principles of natural selection dictate not only that the weak and stupid vanish from the tree of life (to be replaced by Joan Collins look-alikes), but also those unable or unwilling to contribute to the gene pool... Starting to sound like existentialists yet? But first, perhaps a refresher course in just what an existentialist is. An existentialist can be spotted by his or her darkly hued attire, unpleasant misdemeanor, and inability to run while it's sunny out. They reside in their rooms, primarialy, and sometimes venture forth to commune in coffeehouses whose title or description includes one or more of the following phrases:
"outside world not permitted"
"deutsch" note: "german" is unacceptable
So, why do we conclude that the existentialist genes ought to have been pulled from the gene pool with one of those cool big swimming-pool nets that the people always got wrathful at us for touching? We must observe two qualities: The bleak world view, and the postmodern concern. The postmodern concern involves the question of whether to bring a child into the world where that goddamn daycare center feeds them twinkies? No. Of course not, as any student of Sartre would know. And the bleak world view, well, that one is pretty much just justification.
Of course, no real existentialist would breed, unless they were so caught up in the experience of existing (ack! bad sentence construction! no freakin' biscuit!) that they felt it necessary to beget an heir. So the query becomes: Are existentialists bad at using birth control?
The answer, of course, is yes. I'll give you several examples, and identify the type of existentialism that each belongs to.
"No, the rubber detracts from the experience of existence."
-- Dumb-Ass Jerk Existentialism (note: also called "hedonist")
"I don't want to taint myself with these birth control pills."
-- Purist Existentialist (note: distrusts Western Medicine, will die young)
"I can't get pregnant if I'm thinking about Heidigger while it happens."
-- My High School Class Existentialist (note:except for without the Heidigger)
Well I suppose this is how very few great stories start: with a bit of hesitation, a fair amount of indecision, and many hours spent in consideration of blatant thievery. One can never know exactly what will come of his or her initial ideas, and therefore, by starting without any, I am able construct something from nothing. I become akin to a divinity of the most unremarkable order. No worshippers, no shrines, no virgin sacrifices for this scrivener deity.
I suppose it's time to start...
Many years ago, the world stage was nonexistent, most people were happy, life was simple (for lack of better options) and there was a small boy named Quincy. Now, it should be recognized that Quincy was anything but your normal little boy. He had amassed a store of knowledge far beyond what his six years on the planet would suggest. Unfortunately, the scope of this knowledge was limited to two things: paper airplanes and words that began with A. Why those two subjects? Why didn't he learn something useful about animal husbandry or metallurgy? Well, I'm just the storyteller, but I can tell you what Quincy 's answer to such questions would be: "I want to become an expert in aerodynamics as well as have the biggest vocabulary in the world, I just haven't moved on to the next letter."
As the protagonist of the story, Quincy felt obligated to venture out into the world in search of plot devices. He came upon an old man in an expedient fashion. The man turned out to be famed action movie actor/director Beat Takeshi and a highly choreographed fight scene erupted.
*ya ya ya*
*absence of sound*
As the last of the ninjas slumped to the floor, Quincy found himself strangely amibivalent (THE WORD STARTS WITH A!!!! I OWN YOU!!!). If he continued to act according to the author’s aspirations, agents of adolescent aggression could attack him audaciously. However, without the molding hand of a writer, Quincy would be left to determine his own fate. Before he could make a decision, Vinyl Slovakian Lego Smugglers burst onto the scene.
[perspective shifts to author’s mind]
Woop! Woop! Woop!
[view returns to Quincy]
Confronted with such blatant alliteration and improbability, Quincy had no choice but to transform into a salmon-covered goalpost.
What a glut of posts we have! Perhaps we ought to make this a daily thing.
But then again, I have potted meat to consume.
Welcome, dear children, to the wonderful worl of eXtensible Markup Language, the greatest contributor to modern culture since Ace of Base. eXtensible Markup Language, besides being a blatant rip-off of David Cronenberg's eXistenZ, partially starring Jude Law, can be handily shortened to XML. Hooray!
XML allows one to basically make up one's own (there is no other word for this): tag-nomenclature. Here's an example, a "block quote," if you will:
Here is a simple XML fragment:
<HEADLINE>Fredrick the Great meets Bach</HEADLINE>
<AUTHOR>Johann Nikolaus Forkel</AUTHOR>
One evening, just as he was getting his
<INSTRUMENT>flute</INSTRUMENT> ready and his
musicians were assembled, an officer brought him a list of
the strangers who had arrived.
Naturally, we were intensely curious about the possibilites of XML, and drooled onto our keyboard for hours on end. We realized -- this is all we need. And so we set about clarifying the internet, with a series of XML tags too precarious to be exposed elsewhere.
This tag is used for splash screens, preferably integrating Flash technology and some sort of scripting. That you can't skip. And your computer's all slow-like so you can't hit the stop button because your cursor won't even acknowledge its presence.
Use these handy tage to designate what would, in the vernacular, be termed "text-lovin'." I'd give an example. But no. Not here. Not now.
Use this tag to surround web rings with titles like "The Pig Farmer's WebRing," "Coitus Interruptus WebRing" (thanks, Lucas), and "Sweatsuit WebRing."
Put these around lewd pictures and arousing text whereever it doesn't belong. For example, if the title of your web site was "Tulip Bulb Planting Tips and Tricks," and the content was an enourmous photograph of a seven-person love-fest, this tag would be appropriate.
The interviewer leaned over his desk, which was small and made of some sort of metal: "Hey. How's it going?"
I had expected something more formal, but I wasn't about to complain. This was looking easy. He motioned for me to sit down, so I did, and then he did. He adjusted his glasses and looked up over them at me. He smiled, and spoke: "So, how did it happen? We get updates every seven hours, so I don't have that yet."
"Kind of sad, actually. I got hit by a bus."
"No shit? A bus? Hah!"
"I suppose it is kind of funny."
"Yeah. well, there are worse ways to go. Okay, just a minute here."
He typed something into a keyboard below desk level and looked down at a slanted screen embedded in the desk's surface. "Hmm... It'll be a minute, this is an old building."
I nodded assent. We sat in silence for a few minutes, in which time I noticed that the room did not contain a clock. He tapped his fingers on the desk. Suddenly he looked up, somewhat alarmed. "Just a sec, I've forgotten something."
He extracted a small piece of paper from his desk, and handed it to me along with a pen. "It basically acknowledges that you are dead. If you won't admit it, then we have to send you to a different section."
I looked at the paper -- a laminated card, slightly larger than a business card, which read: "I do acknowledge that I am dead:" with a signature line beneath. I signed and handed it back to him; he compared by inscription with something on his screen. "Okay. Ready?"
"Umm... Sure, I suppose."
He read out loud: "Age four: trapped and killed a snake. Catagory, cruelty, variety, wanton."
And then he picked up a letter opener and poked me in the shoulder. "Hey!"
"You poked me! In the shoulder! That hurt!"
"Umm, yeah. That's sort of the point."
"This is judgement?"
I couldn't wait until he got to the tax evasion.
Humor and relatively advanced social satire! What more could you possibly ask for? Answers:
Bringing fantastic acts and feats of derring-do from around the world into your shaking arms!
Practically unable to contain its own cackling laughter!
And most certainly in the spirit of the founder, Franklin Theodore Roosevelt.
Um... That was odd. Thanks, I suppose. I think we had better get back to the questions.
Very well! Ask away, thou harrowsome journalist! ... So, how long has WftB .. Do you like to be called WftB?
Yeah! We do. Although in the long run, it won't to us any good, as http://www.wftb.com is already taken (but nothing is up there yet). Perhaps we could get a .net or a .org or a .co.uk, but then where would we get off selling t-shirts? Well, okay. That kind of makes sense. So, just in case I'm too lazy to read your history page, what's the deal?
Well, WftB (read: Wuhf-tuhb) began early this year, when twelve inchworms were carefully gathered together in the same spot and we were transported to the secret "hand temple." Our readers would really appreciate it if you wouldn't make Commander Keen jokes.
The hell with your readers! Our reader(s) would get it and love it! Anyhow, WftB has been continuously publishing raw, spanky humor since its inception in February of this year, with the exception of two sabbaticals lasting from mid-March to the end of April and from the end of May to the end of July. Those seem like distressingly long sabbaticals. Any reasons?
Well, Lucas and Chris had midterms and finals, and I was actually caught in a hay thresher on both occasions. You just don't learn, do you?
SHUT UP! SHUT UP! You bastard! Sorry. So, things have been fairly keen lately, right? Things are good?
Pretty much. Lucas's summer quarter (he's a little bookworm, ain't he?) is finishing up, and my summer is desolate and empty, so it's looking like it's going to be a content-ful couple of months at least. Does WftB have any particular plans for the future?
I'm glad you asked, fictional interviewer. We're thinking about a re-design and quite a bit of additional content on the off-of-main pages, just as soon as Lucas can remember our server password. Ha ha. That's a joke. Of course we know our server password. In addition, we're finally thinking of incepting some new members -- we'll call them Prospective_One and Prospective_Two -- and the former is quite good with words, while the latter is quite good with Flash, so look out for that! Look out! ... You're getting excited again.
My apologies. It's just that these interviews make me edgy. Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are all shifty-like? Well, no, but thanks for the tip.
Please Take a Long, Refreshing drink from our new Column: WftB Reviews: Historical Figures
Abraham Lincoln: Friend or Foe?
While I approved of A.L.'s "down-home" nature, used to good measure to further his career in a time fed-up with excessive political combativness (read: Martin Van Buren) he could have done with out such a plurality of symbols. It seems that the stovepipe had could have stood as a symbol of the new liberal A.L. philosophy, rather than also using the beard, the height, the cabin in the woods, the self-taught-ness, and the legendary sense of humor. Overall, I'm going to give him a four, based on his excellent work as president and on getting out while he was still on top -- that's how you become a legend. But that last point remains out of reach, not just because of his dubious claim on rural America but also on his commandeering attitude: his seizure of power during the Civil War did help out in the long run, but his dictatoresque abuse of power and the completely unconstitutional Emancipation Proclamation leave something to be desired. Again, 4/5. Good job, A.L.!
We propose a harsh remedy. We must abandon our flashy photo-graphic effects, which taint the meaning -- we are attempting a total breakdown of the weblog aesthetic, finding how basic a weblog can become and still remain vital. We are...
We have rules! Oh, do we have rules. Rules which you must abide by or be kicked out of Denmark. If you have a weblog, you know.
Our Disturbing and Cultish Vow of Weblog-Based Chastity
"I do hereby vow my submittance to the Dogme 95 Weblog Edition and the great state of Ohio... Also Weblog Edition... To abide by these misbegotten rules when savagely giving life to my weblog:"
Weblog writing must be done on location. You must enter the form for your weblog with little or no idea of what it is you will be writing. If you wrote it beforehand, you can leave it open in your computer's memory but not look at it. This rule endeavors to make the end product so difficult to read and full of typographical errors as to render it elitist.
Images used in the weblog entry must have been generated by the author, or a suitable representative thereof. The use of images generated by others is for the professionals! You leave me alone.
The font must be sans-serif, for this is rebellion against the Bauhaus. Any peculiarities of the font or the text are to be celebrated, for they make it look more edgy.
Special layout techniques like "tables" or "frames" are entirely unacceptable. Remember at all times that you are extracting truth from HTML! Also don't use any blink tags, you Hollywood syncophants.
The use of puns or multiple levels of meaning are expressly forbidden... For authenticity is gained only by non-interestingness and inability to cope with ideology. After all, one person's thoughts are more "essential" than the combined philosophical output of the entire history of humanity.
No cheap weblog-style gimmicks! This means no ASCII art, nothing ending in "fest," and none of those damn FrontPage people!
Your weblog entries must refer to actual happenings... No metaphors, allegories, similes, comparisons, or conclusions are acceptable.
Genre weblogs are not acceptable.
The weblog format must be HTML!
The author must not be credited.
In addition I must not attach personal ideas to the weblog! I am making a service, a vehicle for truth, and if I were to insert ideas, morals, ethics, aesthetic, or tripods, I would be doing a great dis-service to everyone. I hereby take this Disturbing and Cultish Vow of Weblog-Based Chastity...
If you want your weblog feebly justified and certified...
Admit it, you saw “The Sixth Day.” You bore witness to
Ahnold and Ahnold toogetha at laast. Since then,
clones have been playing Twister in your most secret
of dreams. Well it seems that your wish will come true at long last. As the two of you who actually read the
news may have noticed (and no, the Naked News doesn’t
count). Dr. Panos Zavos and Dr. Severino Antinori have
declared their intention to start cloning human beings
in the coming weeks. The ethical dilemmas posed by
such experiments are both numerous and multi-faceted.
Therefore, I will ignore them entirely in this post.
Instead, I will focus on the more pressing questions,
why do we want clones? What uses do they have? Are
clones suitable as projectiles in backyard circus
A Water for the Blind production
Fun with Clones: Uses both Extraordinary and
The growing of duplicates for organ donation is one of the
most often mentioned use for human clones, but as far
as I can see, this is due to lack of imagination on
the part of most scientists. In order to spice this
idea up a bit, I would suggest growing horns, tails,
poison glands, etc. on the clones and then
transplanting those on/into the original. While this
practice could be taken to an unhealthy extreme in
California, the laughs that would ensue as the fashion
rapidly shifted from elephant trunks to porpoise tails
to turtle shells makes the practice well worth it.
After all, "chimera" does start with the same letter.
Some would argue that using human beings, even
duplicate ones, as glorified buckshot is a wasteful
and decrepit practice. However, these are the same
people that decry the editing of Three’s
Company as a travesty. Given the opportunity, I would smite such people. As for the
clone-cannons, I see defense contracts on the horizon,
intercontinental ballistic clones and clone defense
shields composed of satellites equipped with retinal
scanners, large swimming pools filled with mucilage,
and a guy named Scooter calling out “slap damn that’s
a lot of glue.” If nothing else, a clone can serve as
a human cannonball, performing at children’s parties
or open-air retirement communities, beloved by
Though it is depends upon the temperament of the
individual clone, most are well suited to supporting
the weight of wooden slats, steel bars, or chain link
fencing. Persons who attempt this should secure
restraints ahead of time, as clones have a tendency to
move when the nails are driven in, which could disturb
the setting concrete.
Simplifying the “I’m My Own
I’ve heard it, I’ve read the lyrics, I’ve tattooed the
names of the musicians involved on my inner thigh, but
I still fail to accept the basic contention put
forward. My difficulty may rest in the occupation of
multiple relational roles by each of the song’s
characters. Imagine if this bunch ever has to divvy up
an estate or play a game of Family Feud. In either
case, Louie Anderson would implode, taking most of
ABC’s daytime lineup with him. To prevent such an
occurrence, desirable as it may be, simply wed your
clone to your own grandmother, thereby streamlining
the whole process. Though she may be opposed to multigenerational incest, and your clone may not respond kindly
to walking down the aisle with a woman who head banged
at a Scott Joplin performance, such nuisances all but
melt away with the introduction of a cattle prod.
Re-enacting Laurel and Hardy Sketches
While this will be on everyone’s mind when they first
obtain a clone, let me be the first to extol words of
caution. First of all, inflating a clone to the size
of Oliver Hardy requires serious lungpower, and should
only be attempted by Nepalese Sherpas, if no Sherpa is
available, a bicycle pump may be substituted. Second,
though Laurel and Hardy sketches are still viewed and
appreciated today, most of humanity, hereafter
referred to as “ignorant troglodytes,” will assume
that you are attempting to imitate the Three Stooges,
and cries of “poke each other” and “poke me!” can
easily ruin the mood. Finally, the similarities in
appearance may confuse both clone and original,
causing both to forget their assigned role and
devolving the entire act into an endless exchange of
“Well, I'm asking YOU who's on first!”
I’ll leave this one to the mind of the reader, where
At the basest level, man is a disgusting slathering
beast. Woman is no less slathering, but a bit less
disgusting, if only due to all of her in-and-out bits.
With this in mind, it is easy to contend that the only
obstacle to mass-cannibalism is societal
indoctrination. For those of you whose heckles are now
standing at attention, let me assure you that there is
no need. I’ve long ceased arguing points and instead
presumptuously leave my assertions unsubstantiated and
my statements unfounded. The Aztecs were a race of
cheese-lycanthropes! Gorgonzola and Brie to be
Returning to the subject of eating people, it can
hardly be considered morally reprehensible to consume
one’s own flesh. If one licks the blood from a wound,
bites off a hangnail, or amputates a toe for an early
morning pick-me-up, no charges are brought. It is only
when an enthusiastic individual has a rapidly
diminishing group of acquaintances, and yet continues
to hold weekly dinner parties, that the practice draws
The Super Hero
Everyone has wanted to be a defender of truth,
justice, and the music of Weezer at some point, but
the incredible danger inherent in such a profession
keep all but the most Bruce Willisesque from going
down this road. So if you don’t find yourself being
confronted by a man with a lop-sided hairdo demanding
that you take up a cause, why not send your clone off
to fight evil? Not only can you take the credit for
his or her exploits, but the almost certain death of
your clone will require that you change your name to
fit your reputation, titles such as “Lazarus” or
“The Caffeinated Corpse” should suffice. One
disadvantage to keep in mind, you are going to have to
view yourself in brightly colored spandex, and that is
You might have noticed an awful lot of list humor around this particular locale of the underbelly of the internet recently.
This is no mistake. There are specific advantages to the list method. They include:
Easy Parallel Structure
And HTML is just begging for it!
But it's important not to just do list humor. Many types of humor are necessary in order construct a complete smorgasboard of laughter, and the list is merely a single (albeit delicious) hors d'ouerve atop the gaudy glass pyramid of delight. Another type of humor (which is already being used in spades) is the inept metaphor. And that is also sacred.
During our stint here at Water for the Blind, we have explored many form of humor. The majority of these can now be found in the archive section, which you can access through a different post on this page. For example, we have the "possible scenario" form of humor:
"And one morning I woke from a restless sleep and I had been transformed in my bed into a gigantic insect. Hilarity ensued."
We've tried the "short, implausible yet somehow strangly affinative story" form, as follows:
"Some guy who wasn't me awoke from a restless sleep to find himself transformed in his bed into a giant insect. Haven't you felt that way some Monday mornings?"
There's also the short-lived "responding to outside stimuli in an unexpected manner," which is always good for laughs. We did that when we responded to reader's queries, and we do it again here: Dear Water for the Blind, Today I awoke from a restless sleep to find myself transformed in my bed into a giant insect. What should I do? -G. Samsa in Czechoslovakia
Dear G. Samsa, Perhaps you should model your life in the form of an allegory, so that those reading a biography of yours would be impressed by the importance of observance and autonomy. Thanks for writing! -WftB
See? It's easy. But don't you try and do it. Because we have occupied the last available niche as short-form humor producers on the internet. All that is left for you is the object lesson / morality play:
Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from restless dreams to find himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. And then bad men entered his home, arrested him for gross copyright infringement, and trucked him away, where he slowly wasted away in an elaborate metaphor of how his character had been wasting away for all these years.
Human Race to suffer yet another defeat at the hands of irony
Brought to you courtesy of Fake News Is Instant Humor group
6 August 2001 -- Today it is reported that the human race, a frail carbon-based species, is suffering yet another harrowing defeat in its ongoing battle with irony. For those of you just joining our program, in the past two or three years, the human race has been slowly but steadily losing ground, after holding steady for nearly six years. The slide began when the following series of events took place:
1995, World Trade Organization formed to replace outdated GATT, which was put in place to *shudder* 'increase the peace.'
1998 or 1999 or something, WTO holds worst-planned-summit-ever in the predominantly liberal, anti-right-wing-conspiracy city of Seattle. Then the WTO acts surprised and throws tear gas. Which was developed for use in the World Wars. Which *shudder* begat the GATT.
2000 or 2001 or something, China to join WTO. China has far-left politics in principle, but is not opposed to free-trade because of the money. So really it's capitalism, which is anathema to communist states (in principle), and so they'll form a democracy... Which is what the World Wars were fought to make the world safe for... After dropping a nuclear device or two on Japan, and threatening the USSR. Which means that I will be sorely disappointed if we do not boycott the 2008 Olympics.
2001 probably, With human rights violations still plaguing China (hey, the Olympics were supposed to make those go away), they join the WTO, and promptly launch tear gas at their own people. China wasn't too heavily involved in either World War, but they did have an Opium War. Which brings us back to ... Seattle.
It just keeps building up, a looming tower of babel, except replace 'babel' with 'hilarious antics ensuing.' And so, I invite you to witness, as we peer deep into the ASCII crystal ball of future-seeing...
2002, New Olympic events for 2008 are announced: Mustard Gas Evasion and Radiation Endurace competitions. France pre-disqualified for cheating, will show up anyway disguised as Belgium.
2003, Due to budget cutbacks, the office of the President of the United States is moved to a make-shift maquiladora just over the Mexican border. Faux-Prez Bush tricked by Judge Scalia into working for 2 dollars an hour, but is promptly replaced by a fighting cock who, let's face it, will work for chicken feed. Bush cries, unleashes nuclear arsenal on the island nation of Tuvalu, because they wouldn't give him president.tv, because it was already taken by Jiang Zemin.
2004, United Nations Human rights folk in their ratty blue hats declare Bejing "a-okay" before lapsing into Opium-induced stupor. Olympic arena, village construction plans bear remarkable resemblance to Egyptian pyramid schemes (just to work the capitalism in). Karl Marx wakes from the dead and cries for seventy hours before fleeing to Tuvalu to write another book, titled "lowercase: contemporary conservative thought." The hit Broadway musical "The Producers" comes true.
2005, After Bush's re-election (the Democrats put up Hillary Clinton, who lost by a slim margin after her husband stayed home with the entire soccer mom demographic) he accidentally has Jamaica's star bobsled team, led by the fetid corpse of John Candy, executed for "bein' not the color of flesh Crayola says should be." He is decried by human rights activists from their slowly composting fortress covered what was once West Seattle. Their God-King, Karl Marx, writes a very mean horoscope to Bush, who becomes stuck in an infinite loop on the word "phonetic," for obvious reasons.
2006, A Meteorite thought to be composed of the International Space Station crashes into Tuvalu, mysteriously destroying all .tv web sites with the single exception of killyourtelevision.tv, which was housed in the White House, Kuala Lumpur. China annexes Seattle for use in the new "Just you try and breathe, you damn students" Olympic event. The Olympic village is deemed unsuitable for human habitation by the IOC after it is found that not only to canaries die there, but they also become extraordinarily large and aggressive. Karl Marx resurrects Mothra to defeat them, which he faithfully does, and then he is Mustard-gassed, hollowed out, and sent into orbit, where astronauts from all countries of the world gather in peace to perform experiments.
2007, the Olympics are almost here! Karl Marx has a panic attack and enters a "feeding frenzy" mode, accidentaly devouring Bush, Cheney's second body, and a slew of Mad Cows. He is hospitalized in Bejing, where he breathes in enough Human Growth Hormones to compete in several track and field events at the coming games. Meanwhile, the corpse of Mothra is beginning to attract migrant workers, eager for the opportunities awaiting them in space. They are paid seventy cents an hour to hold their breath, go outside into the solar winds, and laquer Mothra to stop the decay. The two remaining human rights activists compare it to Chernobyl, and then slink back to their holes to write paperback books and wear those ratty blue hats.
2008... Finally. Also tragically, as Karl Marx, human rights activists, the few remaining citizens of Tuvalu (who now have Super Powers!), and a decaying (both physically and orbitally) Mothra converge on the 2008 Olympic Games. There are no survivors.
Complied from the Yale 2001 Rhesus consumption study, Yale University Press
Q: How does Ohio resident James Timson eat a Rhesus?
A: According to our observations, he has broken into the local zoo several times, but never succeeded in either capturing or eating a Rhesus. When interviewed, he stated that if he had the opportunity, he would "strangle, stuff with corn, and slowly roast the damn monkey."
Q: How does cartoon jungle predator Bagheera the panther eat a Rhesus?
A: Since he is in a PG-rated cartoon, he is forced to eat the monkey bloodlessly, prusemably after knocking it hard enough to kill it days earlier and allowing it to assume a state of rigor mortis.
Q: How does Water for the Blind contributor Lucas Holloway eat a Rhesus?
A: After repeatedly violating it.
Q: How does N*Sync member Justin Timberlake eat a Rhesus?
A:After repeatedly violating Water for the Blind contributor Lucas Holloway.
Q: How does Californian Arnold Thomson eat a Rhesus?
A: After trapping and caging the Rhesus, he force-feeds it peanut butter for several weeks before drilling a hole through the center and sucking out the peanut butter, then eating the carcass, as he learned to do from television.
Q: How does dead celebrity Lucille Ball eat a Rhesus?
A: She doesn't, you fool. Lucille Ball is dead. Either Desi Arnaz can eat them, or they can eat her.
Q: How does feel-good movie star Robin Willaims eat a Rhesus?
A: After luring it to his abode by imitating Rhesus mating calls, he then rapidly and messily devours the aroused monkey. Then your kids laugh along with him. (Although we believe that he secretes Rhesus monkeys on his person, we were never able to conclusively prove this hypothesis, as his screams resulting from arm-hair-pulling sound remarkably like Rhesus screams.)
Well, for the hideously unobservant, we've finally archived the page. This means that if you missed Jonah's glorious post critiquing all the posts preceding it, you'll have to go to this page until I get the time to add an actual site to showcase our archives.
And I switched our counter too. Our budget is too tight to pay a company $9.95 a year to track how often Chris, Jonah, and myself visit the site.