Mon, 12 Dec 2005
Once upon a time, there was a little bladder elf.
This is not to be
confused with an elf bladder, something different, though not
necessarily altogether different, as the elf bladder could be the
bladder of a bladder elf.
No, a bladder elf is, in a similar vein to other professional elves,
the shoemaker's elves, the wood elves, the Keebler elves, etc, an elf
who steals into your bedroom late at night, and fills your bladder, so
that when you wake up in the morning, you can have that refreshing mad
dash to the bathroom for your morning pee. Less prestigious than the
other elven professions, to be sure, but still fraught with dangers and
hazards.
This particular bladder elf was unhappy with his lot in life. Sighing
wistfully one evening, while filling a particularly large bladder, a
passing by bladder elf noticed him, and talked to him of Herr
Christopher Hoffe's farm, where there was little work to be done, and
there were always large bowls of porridge for the happy bladder elves
to eat.
And so, the little bladder elf happily took off for the farm, where
life was good for a while, until the Bladder Elf Union, who had gotten
wind of his unauthorised assignment change caught up with him and had
him disbarred and expelled from the union.
Humiliated and jobless, the bladder elf wandered aimlessly for days,
until he found himself in Madagascar where he was promptly eaten alive
by a rare and endangered species of carnivorous primate.
THE END
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Mon, 13 Jun 2005
Once upon a time, there was a little neurosurgeon.
He was very
successful at what he did, mostly because in school, he studied very
very hard, and excelled at his chosen profession. As a result though,
he didn't have much time to socialize, and grew very lonely.
One day, the little neurosurgeon was reading an article in one
of his favourite publications, "Advanced Neuropsychology Today For Fun
and Profit", about how the field of Artificial Intelligence has been
making great strides in the area of creating systems that are more and
more adept and communicating in a way that seems natural to humans.
This gave him an idea: Why not construct a natural looking artifical
person?
Why not indeed. The little neurosurgeon researched and studied.
He experimented and schemed. He invented and planned. Until eventually
he constructed the first prototype for a new era. An era where no one
need never be alone or in need ever again.
And with only the humming of the electronics of his work room as
fanfare, he turned on the prototype. The prototype looked around, saw
the neurosurgeon, and said hello.
A success! The neurosurgeon jumped for joy. They had a brief
conversation, and it seemed to respond naturally enough, and move
naturally enough. All was well. Time moved on however, and the
prototype eventually got bored talking with the neurosurgeon who still
had not developed any significant social skills. And so it left,
leaving the neurosurgeon alone again. The neurosurgeon decided to build
instead a robot kitty to keep him company, which worked well enough,
until he forgot to feed it, and it short-circuited from hunger and ate
his head.
THE END
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Wed, 19 Jan 2005
The morning was crisp and clear.
It was cold. Cold like you'd expect a winter day to be. So cold that you inhaled through your nose, and your nose hairs would instantaneously freeze up and refuse to budge. Banding together like some sort of nose hair union with little nose hair picket signs saying "Nostrilarity forever!"
As I walked to work, the snow squeaked underfoot like a big sheet of styrofoam, covering everything. Ahead of me, I saw the University smoke stack emitting puffy white clouds against the clear blue of the winter sky, where they were immediately torn to shreds by the harsh North wind.
Work... I trudged onwards towards my destination. I may be a private investigator, but I work in the public sector. My name's Inistrator. Adam Inistrator.
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Fri, 03 Sep 2004
Once upon a time, there was a little boy who started a new job
in the IT department of a large academic organisation.
He was just learning the ropes of his job, when all of a sudden, the network died.
Being sort of new to the job, he wasn't sure what to do, and
milled about uncertainly, until he noticed that others were milling
about as well, and he asked what was going on. Thus the little boy
found out that it was a network problem that one of the other IT-related
groups was looking in to, and there was nothing that they could do for
the time being.
So the little boy went off and wandered about the building,
eating Pocky and wondering when the network would be back up, when he
was accosted by an irate researcher, heck bent on finishing his
research. Which, now that I think about it, isn't all that unreasonable
a thing to be all heck bent about.
In any event, the lack of available data had made the researcher
a little crazed, and he was wandering about looking for any kind of data
that could help him finish his work. Unfortunately, his research
happened to be on the effects of highly processed Japanese confections
on the livers of adolescent males, and when the researcher chanced upon
the little boy, he got that gleam in his eye that often indicates to an
audience of a movie that this character is either maniacal, or insane,
or possibly just evil, except, not being a movie, or at the very least,
if it was a movie, the little boy would not be on the other side of the
fourth wall in that way, and so totally missed the gleam, or at least
wasn't tipped off by the sinister music, and so didn't turn to flee
until it was too late, and was dissected by the researcher for the
greater good. So I guess the researcher wasn't really evil. Just
misunderstood.
THE END
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Wed, 14 Jul 2004
Hello. Allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Christopher Calzonetti. I am an orphaned Canadian, trained in Applied Mathematics and currently employed in a successful marketing firm. Recently I received a large sum of money due to passing "Go" while out for a stroll the other day. This compounded by the latest political upheaval resulting in a near loss of power by the goverment, and has indeed resulted in a loss of majority seating has allowed me to take tremendous advantage of those earnings.
Due to our countries strick taxation regulations on revenues, I am forced into a difficult position. If I can find a way to deferr my earnings by investing the money in offshore resources, I can save a considerable amount of money which I am prepared to share with you.
The discreet nature of my earnings and my position in my company have given me access to approximately seventy-two million (72,000,000) Canadian Dollars in cash, which I am currently storing in the second drawer of my desk. All that is required is a means to legitimately transfer these funds to an outside account, preferably by making choise investments within your country.
After successful relocation and transfer of funds, presuming that you and I can reach a viable business agreement, you shall be entitled to 37% of the gross, plus any expenses, up to 4% of the total. You would be required to facilitate the initial setup of investmesnt and it may be necessary for some small out of pocket expenses to be taken care of by you, for which the 4% of the total has been set aside.
You will be given full access to the financial statements, and if necessary, arrangements will be made for you to travel to Canada to visit the site of operations here, and ensure that everything is ligitamate, and proceeding to your expectations. However, I must ensure that I have chosen wisely in contacting you as the foriegn party to which I trust my investments, something which will be mutually beneficial to us both. Please provide me with your Social Security number, complete bank statements and a comprehensive credit history.
Please fax these documents to me at the following number:
(419) 555-9329
I eagerly await your response.
Christopher Calzonetti.
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Sat, 10 Apr 2004
Eventually, in future, will be little non-caveman.
Little non-caveman will be part of big tribe called Montréal, and forage for bagels and hunt mighty lox. He will drink of blood of elusive star buck. Oft he will drink second cup's worth.
Some day, little non-caveman wake up in his strange non-cave place and forage and hunt for breakfast, and he will then while away day with his large tribe inventing all sort of things Thak or you not able to comprehend with our unevolved australopithecean-sized brains.
On this day that will happen, little non-caveman invent time machine, and he will appear yesterday over there, where Thak was eating berries.
Little non-caveman scare Thak so much, as non-caveman appear in flash of bright light, that Thak reach for big branch to defend self, and beat little time-traveling non-caveman to pulp.
End
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Wed, 21 Jan 2004
Once upon a time, there was a little monkey.
This monkey was not that unusual, in that he liked bananas, throwing feces, and to sit around, not observing (either visually, or aurally), nor uttering evil.
One day, the monkey was wandering around, minding his own business, when he happened upon a very complicated and involved combination bank robbery and puppy torturing in progress.
So second nature had the act of not seeing evil to the little monkey, and so pervasive was the evil around him, that he thought that he had gone completely blind. He stumbled around amazed, until he walked out of the bank, and got hit by a bus. (An evil bus.)
The End
Happy Chinese New Year's!
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Thu, 07 Feb 2002
Once upon a time, there was a little Qioxikahoptecaweii native.
Once upon a time, there was a little Qioxikahoptecaweii native. This
native discovered a novel way of preparing a local berry, by drying it
out, slow roasting it, then grinding it up and boiling it in water. It
was a sort of dark foamy broth, that he sometimes drank by itself, or
sometimes with cane juice and/or llama's milk, or sometimes with a nice
biscotti or bran muffin.
One day, while the native from Qioxikahoptecaweii was enjoying his
morning brew, a roving band of Aztecs raided and pillaged his home,
destroying his furniture, and drinking all the alcohol in his fridge.
Needless to say, the native was not terribly happy and complained loudly
to the local constabulary. The roving band was brought to justice, and
their Harleys were sold at a police auction. All in all, justice was
served.
One morning, the native was out gathering resources for his drink, on
the side of the mountain where he knew the berries grew in abundance.
Sure it was a live volcano, but he had prepared for almost every
eventuality save for perhaps alien intervention, so he was
unconcerned with the dangers.
Unconcerned, that is, until an alien spacecraft warped in from
somewhere upstate, and another roving band of Aztecs got out and beat
him up and threw him into the volcano to appease their god.
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