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Answer for question 4478. [Aug. 5th, 2015|01:06 pm]
If it were possible, what character would you most want to meet from your favorite movie/book? Why would you pick them, and what would you do or talk about when you met them?
Good question, I have always considered myself like Lando Caribbean, he is my favorite phantasm from the cinema, but also when I imagine myself as him I'm heterosexual, not gay. No offense, because God made you how you are, but I'm not gay like Lando, so that would be the one major difference between Lando and me. I can't really think of any other way that Lando Caribbean and I aren't basically same person.

So that's my answer to this question, hope this helps!
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This was a fucking weird one [Apr. 9th, 2014|08:40 am]
I am sitting on the couch with my Aunt Yolanda at my grandparents' house, but it is the present day, so they are still both dead. She keeps saying "Look out there (out the front window)! Any minute now, Robert (my grandfather) will be coming home!" and I just say "Oh, well! Maybe!" This goes on for a while. From time to time, she'll stand up, walk over to the wall, and say "There should be a breach in this wall, a door... But, look... They've changed it..." and then she'll come back and sit down. Then she mentions that Robert should be coming home soon.

I get her into the car, and we drive away. Now she starts asking me about movies I've seen. She quizzes me. Before long, I realize that she's recalling things well, and that the questions she's asking are actually sensible. One question she asks is for me to guess the title of a movie from the '40s, and says "It's about a green umbrella!" and I don't know, and she says "The Peridot Parasol! Starring William Crawthorn and Jean Mez! Oh, I just love that picture..."

I notice that she's getting more coherent as we drive, and seems to be getting younger, too. She's growing prettier by the second, but I never particularly thought she was pretty. She is starting to look like... Jean Mez. Why do I know this? I've never seen Jean Mez before. She doesn't even exist! Now I'm William Crawthorn... This is all feeling like an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents.

The narration, in my father's voice, says "I had heard about this, but I'd never seen it happen. It's a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence... I knew... When this was over, it would be all over, and she'd never go back again. I had to make it all worthwhile..."

So I take her on a picnic on the beach at Lake Erie, and then we are in the desert. There's a song on the radio... "This is it, the Arid Zone, call us up, on the phone!" is the chorus. It's some goofy song from the '40s, possibly the theme of "The Peridot Parasol." We pull into a drive-in. The movie they are showing is called "Dave Late."

It's about how Dave Whited is always late to the movies.
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Eastern European Bootleg Non-Articulated AT-AT Commander's Big Mess! [Sep. 25th, 2011|11:36 pm]
Well, Eastern European Bootleg Non-Articulated AT-AT Commander (Ebnac, for short) had a real hard life. When he was born, his dad thought he was a blue yoda because his paint job was fucked all up, so he put TNT on him and sent him on a raft down river towards the Jawa Junk Dam to try and blow it up, scaring all those jawas.

Eastern European Bootleg Non-Articulated AT-AT Commander got wettied by the river, so the TNT didn't work. Instead, he got found and raised by Tusken Raiders, who beat him and taught him right from wrong. Well, at least as far as they understand it. They are godless aborigines

Ebnac and Hand Solo are shopping at the Big Lots in the early evening.

Ebnac - Well, my mama taught me not to be a fool

Hand Solo - I still think these bike short are a great deal, for only five poscreds

Ebnac - Those bike shorts are too small, they are for yodas!

Hand - Yodas do not ride bikes! You are so crazy

Ebnac - It is Sullustan Syphilis. It is ravaging my mind

Hand - You hadden sex with a whore from Anchorhead, I'll warrant!

Ebnac - Indeed, I am a regular at Cheesecorn Edna's Slut Barn.

Hand - Great Yoda! Her cooze is cursed with a curdy turp! And her women, if they can be called that, possess gardens wickeder than old Emperor Pulpy, through which even Bossk dares not run!

Ebnac - And all of them sickly

Hand - Nay! You low-born cur! You've been had by ol' Cheesecorn! She saves the healthy dames for the Jedis

Ebnac - Well I'm furious I'm gonna go get vengeance

Hand - That's great. I bet Luke Skywalker would help you. His wife Princess Leia used to work there, and Edna's been stiffin' her on her pension!

Ebnac - Oh, this is great! Finally, a chance to gain vengeance side-by-side with a real Jedi!

Hand - Yeah, this is a good thing. I'm happy for you!

Ebnac - People are going to look at Eastern European Bootleg Non-Articulated AT-AT Commander differently after this!

Hand - Oh, I know! Better hurry up

So Ebnac calls a taxi to take him to Luke's mansion in the princely Hutt Knolls subdivision. Next-door neighbor Alex Trebek is outside, watering his lawn, as always.

Ebnac - Lord Skywalker, please help me get vengeance on Cheesecorn Edna!

Luke - That sounds like bullshit, why should I help you you aren't even a Jedi

Ebnac - Edna's holding out on Leia's whore pension

Alex - Oh shit no he didn't

Luke - Egg your time, Booty*!

So Luke whips out his lifesaver and beheads Eastern European Bootleg Non-Articulated AT-AT Commander so quickly that Eastern European Bootleg Non-Articulated AT-AT Commander doesn't even have time to fully process what's happening. Alex Trebek grinds up the remains and uses them to fertilize his hydrangeas.

Hand Solo, meanwhile, snuck into his friend's house and masturbated to his VHS copy of Small Soldiers, I guess the parts with Kirsten Dunst. I dunno, kinda twisted. But that's Hand, man. He's twisted. Like a darker version of Insane Clowns, or maybe like a real twisted, fucked-up Rob Zombie, but even more twisted than that

* "Booty" is a derogatory term for a bootleg figure.
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(no subject) [Sep. 12th, 2011|09:03 am]

My brother, Elliot, and I are eating at Taco Bell. Suddenly my brother tells Elliot to look at his taco. Elliot does, and then throws it down in disgust. There is a worm, or something like a worm, alive in it. My brother's has it, too, as does mine. We all spit out what we were chewing, and throw all the food away. What were those things? Not worms, maybe caterpillars? We decide against complaining to the staff. After all, it's Taco Bell. What did we expect, really?

I go outside to smoke my pipe. I see a thing crawling on the ground. It is the exact same creature that was in our tacos. It is a caterpillar, about an inch long, yellow and shiny. I place a cup over it, telling the other man out here with me not to bother it. I run inside and call for my companions. I bring them back out and remove the cup with a flourish. To my dismay, it has changed, metamorphosed into a different kind of caterpillar, one covered with those hair-like spines. It is still yellow, but now with black accents. The tips of its spines glow like fiber-optics.

My brother pulls some off and eats them. I protest, but he explains that we already ate part of one of these caterpillars, so eating more of its spines won't hurt. That's not exactly what I meant, but whatever. I ask him why would they hurt, anyways? They are poisonous, he says. I noticed that, as a I ran my fingers over them. My fingers became hot. The poison is in you forever, my brother says, but probably won't kill you, unless you are exposed to radiation, which activates it.

Later, I have to go to Pittsburgh with Elizabeth. We take a huge RV, which she insists on driving. I'm a little concerned, since she doesn't drive, but she does a fine job. I am constantly trying to pee in the bathroom, but never can. There are some very narrow apartment buildings in Pittsburgh, only one room wide. I would very much like to own one, until I realize that they are all basically condemned because they are tipping over.


Presently, in real life, I am at the art museum. I have no fucking clue what I'm actually supposed to be doing, or how long I should stay, or if anybody cares, etc. At Stan Hywet, my "boss" gives me specific tasks. I like that better. I don't like nebulous, "we have to get this work done in the next several years, but which thing we do when, in what order, and how long we spend on each individual task, aren't really issues" types of things. I prefer "Do this now, have it done by the end of the day, and then tomorrow do this".

I guess none of it matters, since I'm not getting paid, and anything I actually do is just less work that a paid employee has to do. I wonder if we'll go out to lunch at the Orangerie Mall today. I look forward to that, at least.
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Merry Christmas, Star Wars is Over [Dec. 25th, 2010|06:27 pm]
Well, it was Christmas Eve, and Emperor Pulpy has assembled his friends to decide if they should call a cease-fire to the Star Wars. In attendance was all the Sips lords, I mean Sith lords, and the Imperial guys, like Dark Vader, Dark Maul, Emperor Pulpy, Grand Muff Pie Tarkin, Moff Rebus, M. Bison, Count Doofus, Dark Silly, Commander Jerjerrod, Chandler Bing, Cherry Cheesecake Chompin' Gator, Hoppin' Henry, Solid Light Green Polish Bootleg AT-AT Driver, and Blue Stars.

Emperor Pulpy - Well, these Star Wars never end. I am am sick of it I think we should call them off to have a Christmas party with our friends the Rebbles.

Hoppin' Henry - Ok

Count Doofus - I think it's a gay idea eat my wrath

So Count Doofus smoked Hoppin' Henry with his laser. Emperor Pulpy shook his head in disapproval.

Emperor Pulpy - He was my favorite Sith. I want to gain a certain measure of vengeance against you, Doofus, but it is Christmas so I won't.

Dark Maul - Where is the White Yoda?

Chandler - Yeah, the Baby Yoda. That's what Christmas is about. We need to end these cockamamie Star Wars and eat the White Yoda.

Moff Rebus - Cherry Cheesecake Chompin' Gator, you are one of the toughest Stih Lords in ever made, and you are well-versed in Force Mythology. Would you be so kind as to read to us the legend of the White Baby Yoder?

CCCG - Fuckin' shit yea I will. Here it go:

"On the rock n' roll planet of Tattooween, they all get riled up for Christmas, you know it! This is the happiest time of the year, when boys and girls of all ages and all sorts of fucked-up alien races sing songs of joy to the Baby Yoda, who is born every year on Christmas Eve.

Every year, a special, super-collectible WHITE yoda is born in the city of Mos Eisley, this is the Baby Yoda. He lives for several hours, spreading Christmas Cheer, a potent jawa-cidal powder that clears kills all the jawas in Mos Eisley. Then this valuable holiday yoda vomits up a thousand special tiny purple yodas that are specially programmed to eat only jawas! Then the Baby Yoda sucks up all the tiny purple yodas, now gorged on jawas, and converts them inside his hot stomach into candied gifts fr all the good girls and boys!

The white Baby Yoda signals the beginning of Christmas festivities by shitting out one of these Yuletide confections on each and every Mos Eisley child's pillow. Then the Baby Yoda is captured by the Gammorrean guards and roasted for Jabba's Christmas Dinner. Everyone is invited

Well, that is how Christmas works on Tattooween. It's pretty fucked-up."

Emperor Pulpy - Well, now I remember. We have to meet the Rebbles at Jabba's to eat the fucking Yoda. I got so caught up in these motherfucking Star Wars that I totally forgot about our tradition

Dark Silly - We need to leave now, since we're on Byss in the Deep Core and Tattooween is all the way out on the Outer Rim.

Tarkin - Let's just fly in Blue Stars' Lamborghini it's the fastest car

Dark Silly - Yep, a good car for Christmas!

Chandler - That's true, it's a really fast Christmas car

Tarkin - No, it's just a fast car. Christmas has nothing to do with it!

Dark Vader - I agree. Where Christmas Cars are concerned, I can think of none better than the Lamborghini

Dark Maul - Why do you think they invented a special car just for Christmas?

CCCG - Prolly cause you need a faster car to catch Santa and kill him before midnight

Dark Silly - No doubt, son

Tarkin - For fuck's sake, would you listen to yourselves? You're fucking insane! It's not a special "Christmas Car"! There's no such thing! The words Christmas and car were used in the same sentence, that's all! I hate all of you!

Blue Stars - Merry Christmas to all, and to all, suck my cock!

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(no subject) [Jan. 20th, 2006|05:40 pm]
From here on out, this journal is for friends, only. Please advise...
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Natural History IV [Jan. 17th, 2006|11:35 am]
Perhaps the most stimulating topic in the wider debate over prehistoric mysteries has to do with rodents. The good majority of the earliest mammals were rodent-like in general size and appearance, but not until the very late Paleocene are true rodents apparent. These are most likely derived ancestrally from the anagalids, a form of proto-rodent that also likely gave form to the lagomorphs, a group often mistaken for rodents which includes rabbits and hares. Today, the family rodentia is the single largest group of mammal species.

The greatest puzzle in the history of rodentia appeared in the Pleistocene, in the form of the giant beaver, Castoroides. Castoroides was not like beavers most of us have seen before - he was the size of a bear. Odd, to be sure, but not all that peculiar considering these were prehistoric times and there are many such examples of gigantic versions of modern animals. The problem arises when we consider the tale of the Lumberjack God of Endfield, Sasketchewan.

In 1922, a logging boss named Clelland Manby was traipsing about the woods near Endfield when he tripped over what he thought was a big rock. Closer inspection revealed that it was not a rock at all, but a huge skull! He consulted the local paleontology crew, who proceeded to uncover what appeared to be a complete skeleton of just the sort of giant beaver we discussed earlier. However, there was something odd about this skeleton in that it had indentations above the eye sockets much like a moose or elk, indicating that it may have bore antlers. To make matters stranger, there were two pairs of forelegs, in addition to the hind legs. A six legged, antlered Castoroides?

The Huctauw natives of the Endfield area have a legend about a twenty-foot-tall sort of "beaver overlord" who, supposedly, gave birth to all beavers. They call him the "Lumberjack God," and more than a few ancient Huctauw images portray him as having horns or antlers, and a few depict him with six or even eight legs. One terrifying image has the Lumberjack God with eight legs and goat horns, and shows him sitting patiently in a giant spider's web as a man writhes in terror beneath him! Could Clelland Manby have discovered the perfectly preserved remains of the Huctauw Lumberjack God?

Most leading paleontologists, both then and now, believe the skeleton to be a hoax planted by Huctauw elders to frighten loggers away from their sacred forest. I, myself, believe that to be utterly ridiculous, and think that a lot of these "scientists" are either a) complete fucking morons, or b) lackeys for the CIA. I find the latter to be the more likely, since it's a well-documented fact that the CIA stole the skeleton and is currently hiding it in a hangar at Area 51. I have a photocopied pamphlet that proves it. I'll show it to you!

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Natural History III [Jan. 11th, 2006|01:09 pm]
There is a provocative film making the rounds in video stores across the nation titled "Pterodactyl." Starring MTV Music Video Award-winning actor Coolio (Dangerous Minds, Phat Beach), this picture addresses two issues perpetually at the forefront of salon and symposium discussions throughout the world: Are pterosaurs truly extinct, as left-leaning pseudo-science rags Smithsonian Magazine and National Geographic would have us believe, and, if not, are they breeding prodigiously in a volcano somewhere along the Turkish-Armenian border?

I intend to illustrate a few glaring errors made by the filmmakers, and perhaps educate the reader on the truth behind what have been called (in the film) "giant birds."

Fact One: The film was called "Pterodactyl," yet not one single pterodactyl was ever seen. What were those things, then, that flew around and sqawked and caused general disorder? Why, they were pteranodons! Pterodactyls (though that word is used quite commonly now to describe ALL pterosaurs) were slightly smaller, and lived in the late Triassic to Jurassic periods. Pteranodons lived in the Cretaceous period, the twilight years of the dinosaurs. Also, pteranodons bear the bony crest so evident on the creatures in the film.

Fact Two: Pterosaurs would NOT hunt land animals like humans. These were animals that lived near water and whose diet consisted mainly of fish. Pteranodons had NO teeth, in fact, and other pterosaurs, if they had any teeth at all, had only very small ones. These were not animals who would engage in predation on the scale that is depicted in the film.

Fact Three: Pterosaur eggs do NOT spontaneouly generate, nor can pterosaurs reach full adult size in a matter of a few hours. Once an animal has become extinct, it is highly unlikely that even something as cataclysmic as a volcanis eruption would cause new eggs to appear for no apparent reason. It is also improbable that any animal as complex as a pterosaur would reach physical maturity within one day.

Fact Four: As far as I can determine, there is no helmet being produced at the present time that can enable the wearer to telepathically control the direction of missiles and/or rockets.

Fact Five: As we were never treated to a scene of Muppet Girl's guts coming out (nor of any limb loss), we can assume she is still alive. All characters who perished due to pteranodons were seen clearly with their guts spilling out or their bodies being rent apart. All we saw in the case of Muppet Girl was her being carted off to the eyrie. Now, we also saw this in the case of Bulldog, who was later rescued, her bodacious bod perfectly intact. The question remains: What became of Muppet Girl? Was SHE the mysterious Tyrannosaur at the end of the film?

I guess the last one really wasn't a fact...
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Natural History II [Jan. 9th, 2006|06:02 pm]
Most educated peoples are familiar with that shaggy, lumbering ancestor of the modern elephant, the Woolly Mammoth. However, he was only one member of a large family of prehistoric proboscideans that included the slightly smaller group of animals known as mastodons, as well as the diminutive race of poison-skinned South American protocloids.

There were also many other species of mammoth. One such creature was the Imperial Mammoth, the largest land mammal that ever lived. Another was the Columbian Mammoth, whom many paleontologists believe is the closest relative of both modern elephant species. And there is also the mighty North American Steppe Mammoth, a brilliant beast who had a penchant for bipedalism. Three distinct creatures... or were they?

It is evident from fossil records that all mammoth species descended from the Southern Mammoth, commonly known as the Billy Mammoth in its day, who evolved in central Eurasia and spread to what is now North and South America sometime in the early millennia of the last great Ice Age. From old Billy sprang the Woolly, Steppe, Imperial, and Columbian mammoths, as well as the Dwarf Mammoth, who figures little here. It is easy to discern between the first four and the last, who was quite little. Similarly, we can draw distinct lines between the Woolly Mammoth and his three cousins. This is where we enter what we will heretofore refer to as a "Gray Area," or "Grey Area."

It is clear that the Steppe Mammoth evolved earlier than both the Imperial and Columbian mammoths. It is also clear that the Steppe Mammoth was a direct descendant of our old friend Billy. What cannot be determined for certain is whether the Imperial and Columbian mammoths evolved parallel to the Steppe Mammoth, or whether it is he who is their direct ancestor. We know that all three species coexisted for many millennia, but of course it is not reasonable to assume that all Steppe Mammoths would have to be extinct by the time a new, clearly defined species arose out of their gene pool. Yet still, the likelihood of the Steppe Mammoth being the genetic father of these two mammoth types is quite small.

So, let us assume that all three developed from one common ancestor, our mutual friend and benefactor, William Mammoth. The similarities between fossil remains of all three species is profound - so much so, in fact, that many leading mammoth experts wonder why the three were ever classified separately to begin with. Skull shape, size, and density. Average tusk length. Average weight, height, fitness level, and after-tax income. All strikingly similar. In truth, it is only the theoretical issues of fur coloration, coat thickness, vocal ability, and overall personality that distinguish the three species from each other. Why, then, if all three were actually one single animal, should the Imperial Mammoth alone enjoy the distinctive honor of being "largest land mammal ever?" Should not that title belong to the North American Steppe Mammoth, of which the Imperial Mammoth is clearly an example?

The answer, always and again, is mere politics. Unfortunately, we know little of the politics of the nineteenth century, when many of these animals were classified. It is a century long-forgotten, an era misplaced in the ebon folds of time. We will never, ever know why three mammoths, who are all clearly the same, are to be forever believed to be different.
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Natural History [Jan. 9th, 2006|03:31 pm]
The final and most impressive battle between man and the bears was fought some ten thousand years ago in the mountains of what is now Yugoslavia. It is supposed that at least twenty bears were involved in the fighting, and as many as forty or fifty men. Remains found at the scene tell that there were heavy human casualties, although we cannot be certain of the total amount (assuming that some who were wounded died later from their injuries). The struggle between man and beast was very real and very potent in those days, and as much as it seems unbelievable to us, we must consider the facts. Modern man was not the low-born victim Homo Erectus was, leading a miserable existence as bear fodder. Nor was he the tactically retarded Neandertalensis, whose disastrous wars against Ursine hegemony all but annihilated whatever chance he had at replacing bear superiority with his own. No, Homo Sapiens Sapiens was both physically and mentally capable of ensuring his supremacy in Europe, and the bears were all that blocked his destined path.

Now we hear tell of a resurgence in the grizzly population in northwestern Canada, Alaska, and eastern Siberia. No small matter this. The spirit of vengeance does not sleep easy.
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