Like this one.
In response to something another panelist at the “Anthropoly” game at Anthrocon did, Peter slapped himself in the forehead and rocked back in his chair…
…a little too far.
A quick-witted photographer in the audience has captured the magic moment for us. 🙂 A larger version of the photo can be seen here.
(BTW, Peter’s fine: didn’t get so much as a bruise.)
[tags]Peter Morwood, Anthrocon, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, furry convention, furries[/tags]
As the commercial over here would have it.
Absolutely not worksafe if your boss finds it odd that you should break down in front of the monitor weeping with laughter.
Adobe Photoshop CS Top Secret For Professionals.
[tags]Adobe, Photoshop, tutorial, oh well, eventually Corel will come out with the same thing only better[/tags]
Now playing: Verdi, Anna Russell/Anna Russell – Hamletto, Or Prosciuttino (sung in simultaneous Italian and English)
Not Ghost. Toast.
If like us, you suffer from the almost constant disappointment of holy effigies failing to miraculously appear to you during breakfast, well fret no more, because help is at hand. The problem with your everyday religious apparitions is that, well for the fainthearted at least, they’re a bit rubbish. Often it takes an almost suicidal leap of faith to see your chosen deity appear in your breakfast.
You may have to squint sideways through blue Venetian silk stretched over the branches of a two hundred year old Abyssinian cedar tree, on the last Wednesday in June, whist standing on one leg in a an old sink half filled with water drawn by neutered goats from the ‘Well of Indecision’ high in the Kibla mountains – and even then, you may still find you’re just looking at what will now be a rather cold piece of toast….
I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with any deity whatever during breakfast. Until the caffeine kicks in, there’s always the possibility that I might say something rash while reading the news…
[tags]Toast, holy toast, Virgin Mary on toast, caffeine, tea, coffee, apparition, apparitions, divine intervention, divine intervention at breakfast, perish the thought[/tags]
Somehow, while watching this event on “real” TV the other day, I missed this. OMG!
William Shatner sings (for certain values of “sing”) to George Lucas
…Worth watching just to see Harrison Ford veering dangerously close to anoxia. George’s poleaxed looks, every now and then, are also priceless.
(As it happens, P. and I are co-guests with Shatner at the Fargo Fantasy Festival later this year. I can’t wait to sit down somewhere quiet with the man — whom I haven’t seen in the flesh since he was hit with a pie at a very early New York Trek convention — and talk a little Denny Crane with him.)
This collection of questions purportedly sent to the organizers of the Sydney Olympics makes me seriously doubt that old canard of my teachers’ that “there’s no such thing as a stupid question.” Yes there is! (or at least that’s what I think before having my tea…)
Q: I have a question about a famous animal in Australia, but I forget its name. It’s a kind of bear and lives in trees. (USA)
A: It’s called a Drop Bear. They are so called because they drop out of gum trees and eat the brains of anyone walking underneath them. You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking.
Q: Which direction is North in Australia? (USA)
A: Face south and then turn 90 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we’ll send the rest of the directions.
Q: It is imperative that I find the names and addresses of places to contact for a stuffed porpoise. (Italy)
A: I’m not even going to ask…
Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys’ Choir schedule? (USA)
A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is…oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in King’s Cross, straight after the hippo races. Come naked.
(Thanks and a tip of the bush-hat-with-corks-hanging-off-it to Khorbin at Geeks Incognito.)
Oh, yeah, it was St. Patrick’s Day, and I was dealing with requests for help with people’s soda bread, or some such.
WASHINGTON — President Bush nominated infinitely rapacious cosmic entity Galactus on Thursday to be his new interior secretary.
If confirmed by the Senate, Galactus, 11 Billion, will replace Gale Norton, who resigned last week.
Bush said Galactus, Third Force of the Universe and Devourer of Worlds, wields the Power Cosmic and has broad experience needed for eating the 388 parks of the National Park system, 544 wildlife refuges and more than 260 million acres of multiple-use lands located mainly in 12 Western states, in addition to the rest of the planet.
“Galan understands that those who live closest to the land know how to manage it best, and he will begin preparations to digest our planet immediately,” Bush said.
Galactus promised to construct giant machines in the heart of Manhattan in order to “suck the very essence from the land and consume the natural resources with which your planet has been blessed.”
His chances of Senate confirmation are greatly increased by his godlike endurance, immesurable intelligence, omnipotence and possession of the Ultimate Nullifier. The Senate rarely turns down cosmic beings of utter destruction, and Republicans hold the majority with 55 of 100 seats.
“Galactus is a strong nominee,” said Majority Leader Bill Frist, R-Tenn. “I look forward to his swift confirmation by the Senate.”
But for some reason, not everyone seems to have liked this idea.
Barbara Miller, a citizen activist in northern Idaho who has fought for decades to get more health screening for local people affected by historic lead and zinc pollution from the Bunker Hill Mine, said Galactus has an interest in eating the planet Earth, at the expense of the environment.
See, now, those pesky fault-finding tree-huggers, they’ll complain about just anything.
And before I even made it out of bed.
In the inbox (because my Google address finally, inevitably I suppose, made it onto somebody’s mailing list):
“Compliments and Greetings. Please kindly allow me introduce myself. My names are Alan Backford, I am an accountant, by age 31 Years, graduate of the American Open University in Dubai, I am an English and I have returned to England for one reason; for the up bringing of my children in an English orientation. I was the head of the account department of a Private Bank in Netherlands and I would like to intimate you with certain facts that I believe would be of interest to you….”
Yeah, I just bet you would. Alan dear…let me intimate you with certain facts. (a) If you are “an English”, your school must be waaaaaaaay down the league tables. (b) The Powers that Be and I will be working fairly closely together in the coming weeks. So if you abruptly come down with a plague of boils, don’t be surprised. It’ll stop the minute you stop spamming.
(An “English orientation”? Is being English a lifestyle all of a sudden? I feel a Python sketch coming on. “Yeah, I went to this party…and somebody asked me if I, you know, wanted to try some tea…and then one of them took me out back and…and said, ”Ere, mate, come on, let’s play some cricket…'”)
Then, in the referral logs from EuropeanCuisines.com, this query to Google that brought someone to our site:
“What country does Swiss cheese come from”
Oh my gosh. And who’s buried in Grant’s Tomb? (But later Peter pointed out to me that the most likely answer to this question is “America” — as, in Switzerland, the cheese with the big holes is Emmentaler. The Swiss themselves [oh, all right, the Raetii then, be that way] haven’t had a caseus Helveticus since Julius Caesar’s time. [And that was probably Sbrinz anyway.])
Well, I hope we were of some assistance with the question.
…And there was something else as well, but it’s slipped my mind at the moment, as it was jarred out of place by something cutting Siff’hah suddenly said to Arhu, and I had to stop and write that down.
It’s good to start the day laughing…
This point may take a little time to get to, so bear with me.
Peter and I are getting ready to do an afternoon cooking demonstration at the local hardware store, thus doing something to deserve our local reputation — most easily summed up as “You know, those two crazy people who live just outside of [name of small village omitted], the Americans — ” (at which I roll my eyes, because no American would mistake Peter’s accent as anything USAnian, though everyone here does) — “the ones who’re talking about food all the time, did you hear about the dinner they made for Pat and Mary Courtney… oh, they’re writers? Sure I didn’t know that. What do they write? Anyway, they made this terrific rolled pork loin and this rosemary-smoked lamb…”
— anyway, that reputation. So as part of the prep for this event (which will be happening at Quinns of Baltinglass on Saturday, February 25th, between 1:30 and 4:30, don’t miss it if you’re in the area), I went off to look for some pictures of Baltinglass Abbey to use as part of the promotional handout that Kieran the manager asked us to whip up. (The theme of the afternoon is “Bought in Baltinglass”, and the gist of the demonstration is to show that you can do incredible gourmet things with what’s available in a medium-sized Irish country town these days.)
And while looking around for photos in Google (to see if there was anything better than the pictures I might be taking myself this afternoon), I found — at the bottom of a page of pictures of someone’s megalith-ruin-stone-circle-seeking tour of Ireland, a disclaimer.
JonSullivan.com is not responsible for your own dumb ass. For best results, don’t be a dumb ass.
JonSullivan.com is not recommended for children under 13. Parents should be aware that this site contains: discussion of sex with blow up animals, gratuitous amounts of profanity, and really wacky shit we can’t even classify, much less recommend to little tikes. Expect misrepresentations, false assertions, and malicious deception.
While using JonSullivan.com, please refrain from operating power tools, underwater breathing devices, powered enema machines, or the “Thigh Master”. Failure to comply with this rule may lead unscrupulous types to hack into your web cam and post incriminating pictures of you at “Am I Hot Or Not?”
Improper operation of JonSullivan.com can lead to insomnia, dropsy, toe loss, addiction to yogurt, very small fingernails, rapid eye movements, aversion to French cuisine, and spastic colon. Among other things. Don’t make us list them all. You get the idea. Just be careful. It’s not a toy. You could put an eye out for God’s sake!!!
And there’s much more.
Jon (whoever he may be) has brightened my day. Must send him some recipes as soon as I finish packing up all this eBay stuff to be mailed out…(that being the rest of today’s business, just about. You wouldn’t believe how it can complicate your life when your little local post office shuts down and you gave up your car five years ago).
Just what you needed: a Personal Disorganizer.
