Down to the Wire

A thin bead of sweat trickled down his temple and dripped onto the floor. All eyes were on him. Deep down, he knew that it was going to come to this, but yet he was still unprepared. This one moment in time that would affect all things after it. A turning point in history. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone too dry. He took a deep breath, but it did not help to steady his nerves.

"Sir?" she asked. "Tall or grande?"

His hands began to shake uncontrollably.

...to be continued?

How a Viking Bill Becomes a Law

1. Legislation is Introduced
Any jarl or thane can suggest a piece of legislation. However, he must first hunt the great white stag, for only if he is in possession of the great white stag's antlers, may he propose a bill.

2. Committee Action
The bill is brought to the yearly Thing, where the proposer must argue his case by participating in two committees: the Drinking Committee and the Fighting Committee. He then must organize a raid on England. If he returns successfully, then the bill is put to a vote.

3. Voting
Every man who attends the yearly Thing may vote. Two English villages are denoted as "yay" and "nay" respectively. Each man casts his vote by burning down the corresponding village. If the vote is in favor of the bill, the proposer may then take the legislation to the Odinfather.

4. The Odinfather
He who has proposed the bill then spends three days and nights consulting with ravens, who bring his legislation to the Odinfather. If the Odinfather is displeased with the proposed legislation, he sends his ravens to pluck out the eyes of the proposer and keeps them in his pocket (this is known as a "Pocket Veto"). Otherwise, the Odinfather shows his approval by sending word that England should be raided.

5. The Bill Becomes A Law
Everyone celebrates by pillaging England.

Table 4-78

11th-Level Office Encounters

d%: Number of Creatues and Kind
01-05: 1d4 starving interns
06-15: 1d3 creeps, older and 1 creep, younger
16-19: 1d6+1 cube farmers
20-22: 1 12th-level dullard
23-28: 1d8+2 dire secretaries
29-45: 1d2 marketers (demon)
46-59: 1 manager [See Table 4-88: Random Managers]
60-66: 1d3+1 temps, clay
67-82: 1d6+3 working stiffs (undead)
83-88: 1d4 movers and 1d6 shakers
89-94: 1 CEO [NPC level 1d3+7] and 1d2 yes-men
95-99: 1 hydra, Lernaean--1d3+7 heads
100: Roll twice on above table

Internet Thursday! (was Web Wednesday)

Due to scheduling conflicts, this popular feature has been pushed back a day. Sorry for the inconvenience, but let's dive right in!

Message boards from which I have been banned:

• American Tick Farmers' Association (ATFA)
• Rocko's Modern Life Fanatics Web Ring
• Papermate Pens Official Forums
• Talkin' Rectangles
• Stiffies.net (a crinoline fetish site)

And this link should give you some great ideas on where to spend a weekend getaway with that special someone.

Signs of Our Times

From a church somewhere in Texas:

Sounds like a good deal to me!

From somewhere called "Pack Place":

Tiny lightbulbs can be so rude!

And, most alarmingly, from my computer this morning:

I'm afraid to press "OK".

Kittypunk

Cold. Wet. Another raining night in Sanriotown, where the drugs are cheap and life is even cheaper. I had just come from Pochacco's place, a gruesome smile plastered on his lifeless face. An overdose of Dream. Only one penguin in the whole town could have supplied the curious little pooch with that much of the drug. And I knew exactly where I could find him. Little Twin Stars' place, in the red-light district. I kicked in the front door and showed my gun to the tart who worked the front parlor. To her credit, she didn't scream, she just told me what I needed to know. Second floor, first door on the left. I strolled in to see his spiky black head bobbing up and down between a skinny whore's legs. Before the bitch could react to my entrance, I pulled Badtz-Maru off of her, threw him to the ground and held the barrel of my pistol to his forehead.

"Please, no! It wasn't me," he sobbed. Pathetic.

"Liar," I muttered, and pulled the trigger. He twitched once and then lay still.
I had no time to enjoy my victory. I felt a gun pressed suddenly against my back. Clammy hands spun me around and disarmed me. I got a good look at my mystery assailant. Keroppi, that frog-faced bastard.

"Hello, Kitty," he croaked.

It was going to be a long night.

The Gordian...NOT!

TV executives, if you're out there (and I know you are), have I got an idea for you! The early life of Alexander the Great reimagined in present-day Southern California.

Ext. High School Campus. Alexander shyly approaches two pretty girls.
Jennifer: She think's she's so Prada, but she's not even JC Penny.
Heather: Yeah.
Alexander: Hi, Jenn, I was wondering if...
Jennifer: Just keep walking, loser.
Alexander cuts her in half with his sword.

Int. Classroom. Alexander is being dressed down by a teacher.
Mr. Vanderchuck: Alexander, this report is simply unacceptable. Your thesis is muddled, your reasoning is completely out of left field, and I can't even find your conclusion. I'm afraid you'll have to redo it, or I'll be forced to give you an F.
Alexander cuts him in half with his sword.

Int. Principal's Office. Miss Dougherty sits behind her desk, her lips pursed and a large file, stuffed with papers in front of her. Before she can speak, Alexander cuts her in half with his sword.

I'll be waiting by my phone TV executives!

Ale or Whores?

Many of you know that I'm doing a study to determine which the American people prefer: ale or whores? Though I'm not prepared to analyze the data as of yet, I have gathered a lot of data.



There you have it! The figures don't lie. I might, but the figures never do.

I also asked a number of celebrities and dignities this very question. Their answers might surprise you!

Actor Russell Crowe: "Ale."
Soccer Great David Beckham: "Whores."
Director Woody Allen: "Whores."
(The Late) Chef Julia Child: "Ale."
Scientist Stephen Hawking: "Bring on the whores!"
UN Secretary General Kofi Annan: "Whores!!"
President George W. Bush: "Ale."

Fascinating! Remember to keep an eye out for my book, Ale or Whores?: A Case Study as soon as I think of a better title.

Five Things About Me...

...that I'll never explain.

1. Why I'm no longer allowed within the city limits of Rutland, Vermont.
2. Why I have a tattoo of Don Knotts sitting on a ship's anchor on my shoulder.
3. Why my name is considered a swear word in Farsi.
4. Why I have a collection of used bindles stashed under my bed.
5. How I became a member in good standing of the Trilateral Commission.

The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful

I got this postcard in the mail this morning.


On the back it just says, "Be seeing you" and its signed with the number 1 instead of a name. Odd.

Maybe this has something to do with my friend in the MI5 who disappeared recently. He said he was going to retire, maybe he just went on a vacation...

Mein Gott!

Spotted this at the newsstand earlier...finally got my scanner to work.



*shakes head sadly* Some people...

Definition

phlogiston (flo jis'ton) n. A nonexistant chemical that, prior to the discovery of oxygen, was thought to be released during combustion.

I just discovered today that I've been pronouncing that word wrong all my life (short o, hard g--rhymes with "blog"). And yes, it was the first word I ever spoke.