Climb That Mountain!

In any endeavour, it is important to remain goal-focused. In no endeavour is this more important than weight loss. While some of you may scoff at the thought that my Adonis-like physique would ever need dietary control, it's been a long winter, and a bit of tweaking has become necessary.

However, it's not as easy as it looks. Yesterday, whilst out and about, my resolve crumbled. I was heading for a servo to buy a lovely Pepsi Max when insidious thoughts intruded. Yes, I thought, you've been doing well, have a real Coke and a Mars Bar. As I was crossing the road to the servo, as Dame Fortune would have it, I was passed by a carload of nubile blondes, giggling and carefree, in very short shorts and halter tops.

I had my Pepsi Max.

The History Of Stuff, Part 3

Staplers

In primitive societies many methods were used to secure paper. The ancient egyptians used a gel comprised chiefly of alligator dung, whilst in Rome they favoured slaves. Neither of these methods survived the Dark Ages, although some claim that this is what monks were invented for.

In 1873 with the Industrial Revolution firmly underway and air conditioners yet to be invented, the British Patents office became overwhelmed with the amount of patents flying around the room whenever they opened the windows. Most patents of the time were voluminious multi-page documents, of which the pages were not bound. After the invention of aluminium made the bauxite paperweights of the day far too expensive for patent clerks, an alternative solution had to be found. In co-operation with the Admiralty (who had been suffering similar problems when opening portholes) the Patent Office advertised for tenders for a new method of collecting sheets of paper.

The competition was won in 1876 by the reknowned engineer Kingdom Isalbard Brunel, with his System To Attach Paper Lightly, Easily and Regularly. This was later shortened to today's 'stapler'.

A Public Service Announcement

Please note that Arlo Guthrie does not want the following:

• Tickles
• 8"x10" colour glossy photos with a note on the back of each one explaining what each one was to be used in evidence against him
• Pickles
• To sit on the Group W bench
• Alice

Random Doobings

It should be mentioned at this stage that Captain Doobie and Goodtime Slim have a cat. Or rather, the house in which they live has attracted a cat. It was possibly the most disgusting looking cat in the cosmos. A big old tom who knows a soft touch when he sees one, he had decided to set up at the house for his retirement from a life of crime, or in a cat’s case: a life. It had two names, depending on who was talking to it. ‘Youbastard’ was generally from Goodtime Slim, while Captain Doobie called it ‘Puss’. It was best described as a shapeless lump of fur, scar tissue and indiscriminate earage. It had seen more fights than it had had hot dinners, and had found in Captain Doobie and Goodtime Slim the perfect mix of a cat lover and a cat hater. Thus, it had someone to take care of its food, sleeping arrangements and patting requirements, and someone to utterly annoy; which are the main two requirements in an older cat’s life.

Future Novel Titles

Captain Doobie, Goodtime Slim, and...

the Robotic Pirate Ninjas Of Cheyenne Gulch
the H Man
the League of Even Extraordinarier Gentlemen
the Panzer Of Destiny
the Grim Spectre Of Death
the Title That Couldn't Be Used Due To Allegations Of Copyright Infringement
The Pirates! In An Adventure With Antimacassars

Interesting Facts #1

Did you know:

Edward Woodward is the only actor whose name sounds exactly like someone farting in the bath.

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Nasty and spiteful

Dear Cube Police,

You might think you all that, but you ain't. Blocking the d-man's internet so he can't post to the blog no more just earned you a bitchslapping. Email blogging. Way of the future. Stop googling goatse on the company time and you might learn yoseff something.

Word, beyotch.

Curses! Foiled again!

Readers may not be aware that confectionery the world over is not the same. The brands may be the same, but differences in local production techniques, tastes and ingredients cause the product to vary in different markets. Take Mars Bars* for example. In Australia, they’re chocolatey. In the UK, however, there’s a vast difference. They use beet sugar over there, instead of the cane sugar we use in Australia. Because chocolate made from beet sugar tastes exceedingly bad, the emphasis in English Mars Bars* is towards the caramel. They taste different. Not nicer, because once you’re at the Mars Bar* level of niceness there’s not a whole lot of room for distinction.
In Australia, of course, English Mars Bars* are difficult to find and when you do, they’re expensive. So, Imagine my surprise on Monday night when I went into Cheap As Chips to get some fertiliser pellets for my African Violet and there they were, a whole box of English Mars Bars* for $1 each! I bought one and assured myself that it was in fact genuine. But then came a problem: how to get more. Since then, on two separate occasions I have returned to buy more. However, there is a problem: the box containing them is at the end of the sales counter. I feel odd queuing up just to get at the box. To solve this, I have had to buy other things as well.
In summary, in addition to the nine English Mars Bars* purchased, I am also the proud owner of “The Mercury Project” starring Robert Wagner, and a CD entitled “Burnin’ Up The Road” by the heavily-bemulleted Mcbride and The Ride. Lucky me.

*Blah blah copyright blah blah pants

Correspondance I Have Not Yet Answered

D C,

By the time you read this, I may well be dead, as my head has been cut off. Well, not completely cut off, but I’m bleeding a lot. Well, when I say a lot, I mean a bit. A bit of a lot. You know what I mean. Can I have $20?

Mum

* * *

Mr D C White,
Embassy of The Republic of the Poongtwackle Archipelago,
G.P.O. Box 2768
Adelaide, SA, 5000.

Dear Mr White,

Thank you for your recent correspondence, but it has failed to clear up the matter at hand. While we here at the Electricity Trust of South Australia would be delighted to extend every courtesy to your recently-established embassy in Adelaide, we again reiterate that we have never heard of the Republic of the Poongtwackle Archipelago. Further, neither has the Department of Foreign Affairs or even ASIO. In any event, even established international embassies must pay their electricity bills. Enclosed is a final notice. Please remit.

Yours Sincerely,

Joe Bloggs,
Accounts Recievable Supervisor,
E.T.S.A.

p.s. As to your claim that The Republic of the Poongtwackle Archipelago is nuclear-capable, we are prepared to take that risk. Pay the bloody bill.

* * *

Dude,

Long time no see, eh? Listen, I was wondering if you had any room at your place, only I’ve got to get somewhere to hang for a while while all the fuss dies down. Just need you to give me the nod. Don’t worry about the dosh, I’ll see you’re all right.

Your old mate,

Lord Lucan (ret.)

* * *

D C,

I don’t mean to sound pushy but I haven’t heard back yet and I think that both of my legs are about to go too. Well, a leg. Ish.

How’s that $20 coming along?

Mum

* * *

Mr D C White,
G.P.O. Box 2768,
Adelaide SA 5000

Dear Mr White,

While the People’s Republic of Ecuador is prepared in principle to assist people of any nationality in their struggle against oppression, we are not prepared to recognize your ‘nation’ at the next sitting of the United Nations. This decision has been made primarily due to the fact that we do not know where ‘The Republic of the Poongtwackle Archipelago’ is. We are not prepared to believe that you have spilt coffee on your only copy of the map. In fact, we find spurious in the extreme your explanation that the only photocopier in your country is jammed, and that only through international recognition will you be able to allow a repairman to cross the Poongtwacklian/Javan border. May we suggest that you try Chile? They’d probably be in it for a quid.

Yours Sincerely,

Alberto Modesta,
Foreign Undersecreteria,
People’s Republic of Ecuador

* * *

D C,

I think rigor mortis has set in: I can’t feel my colon. Are you getting any of these letters? Whoops, there go my fingers all over the floor. That $20 had better bloody well hurry up is all I can say.

Mum

* * *

Mr White,

Thanks for taking the time to submit. I appreciate the look, but I’m going to pass.

Joe Schlabotnik,
McSweeneys.net

A Retraction

Having attacked Richard Dawkins this morning, I thought it best during my lunch break to purchase his book 'The God Delusion' in the spirit of scientific enquiry.
And as a result I apologise to Mr Dawkins. He is not a raving whackjob. In his book, he advances the very same argument as my previous post, but qualifies it with the notion of 'agnostic probability', claiming that while it is one thing to doubt both hypotheses, it is quite another to grant each hypothesis equal probability. I wholeheartedly concur.
I must now confess to the cardinal sin of having assumed that Mr Dawkins was an atheist. He is not. He describes himself as a 'Temporary Agnostic in Practice' or one who can not prove either hypothesis, but believes that an answer will eventually be found. Again, I agree. Furthermore, i'm looking forward to finishing the book.

Richard Dawkins Is A Raving Whackjob

As an unrepentant agnostic, if there’s one thing I like better than baiting religious nuts its baiting atheists.
I love atheists. They come out all scientific and (perversely) holier-than-thou, tut-tutting the religions of the world and, in Richard Dawkins’ case, writing big books.
The problem is that atheism springs from exactly the same place as religion: faith. The atheists say that God’s existence cannot be proven, therefore he does not exist. But this is faulty logic. As any good fictional detective will tell you, the absence of proof is not proof positive. Because no-one can prove that God exists, it is not proof that he doesn’t. Whenever I meet a particularly garrulous atheist I always like to point out that the burden of proof is on them. To back up their hypothesis, they must prove that God does not exist. Due to the reportedly omnipotent and ethereal nature of God, this cannot be proven. There is no way to prove that God does not exist.
They really really don’t like hearing that. They also don’t like then being told that their belief that God does not exist is just that: a belief. It is powered by the same motivational force that religion is: personal faith. They are as unreasoned, unscientific and illogical as those in an organised religion, and only the names are different.

The Race That Stops A Nation (not Bathurst)

Is it just me, or did the placings for this year's Melbourne Cup look like the track list on Bono's iPod?

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Dan Dare, Earth's Greatest Adventurer!

Dan Dare, intergalactic explorer and adventurer, has been captured by the dreaded Mekons. As they prepare to execute him by lowering him slowly into a pit of boiling snot, he yells to the head Mekon, "You can't kill me! I'm Dan Dare, Earth's greatest adventurer! I'm beloved by billions! If you kill me, it will start a jihad which will wipe the Mekon race from the galaxy!"
The head Mekon is not overly impressed, but having seen many years of Earth's TV broadcasts he knows just how stupid we can be. So he sets Dan a challenge. "We will take you back to Earth," he says, "and if no-one recognises you in the first 10 seconds, you die. Oh, and your planet gets vaporised. Mwahahahahaha!"
Dan agrees, somewhat reluctantly. He racks his brains to think of some way to accomplish the task. The Mekon saucer lands, at 2am, in Dublin. The Mekon Advance Reconaissance Group run out, weapons drawn, shooting lasers wildly in every direction. Once the perimiter is established, they push Dan down the ramp into the empty, dark Irish street. The head Mekon looks at his watch. "Well," he tells Dan, "It's coming up on ten seconds..."
Dan is at a loss, but then, he attempts to escape! He jumps the Mekon perimiter but instead of taking off up the road he trips over a heap of garbage bins and falls to the ground. Suddenly, a window opens and an old Irishwoman yells, "Eh, what da fook's goin' on dan dere?"