Story: Einstein's Medieval Christmas (2002)
James Kibo Parry
you can't see yet) but I would not miss this Christmas tradition for
anything. Here's my annual Christmas improvisation.
You can also read this at my crusty old Web site at
http://www.kibo.com/kibofic/einstein_xmas_2002.shtml
in case you want to see if it has a different ending there.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
EINSTEIN'S MEDIEVAL CHRISTMAS
by James "Kibo" Parry
written Christmas Eve, 2002
Copyright (C) 2002 James "Kibo" Parry
Einstein was having a boring Christmas. He didn't have a Christmas
tree, or a menorah, or even a Kwanzaa stick, because he had renounced
all religions after God hadn't prevented him from inventing the atomic
bomb. (God was clearly evil.) And he hadn't received any presents
because he was a scientist and therefore didn't have any friends. He
sat in his empty apartment all by himself, because his dog Spot was dead.
Spot had died months ago, in a drug-related incident. He had smoked a
marijuana-flavored reefer and spent an hour trying to stare into the
Sun through the belt of a belt sander, keeping his face pressed
against it until his entire head was sanded down to a nub. It had
been a closed-casket funeral, which enabled the mortician to steal the
body so his kids could build whimsical Lego creations that snapped
onto Spot's nub.
Einstein sighed and turned on the TV to cheer himself up. This being
Christmas, the news was on, and they weren't trying.
"THIS family's house burned down... ON CHRISTMAS! And THIS family's
house burned down... ON CHRISTMAS! THIS family's house burned down
twice... ON CHRISTMAS! And THIS widow was trampled to death by
overzealous reporters!"
But just then, the real news was interrupted for a terrorism warning.
"Be highly suspicious of anyone wearing a disguise, especially if they
have a beard, because they might give you suspiciously-wrapped
packages!" There was a grainy, black-and-white close-up of Santa
talking to a little boy as the words "HYPOTHETICAL RE-ENACTMENT OF
POTENTIAL EVENTS" flashed on the screen.
"Ho ho ho. Little boy, I'll give you that Microsoft XBox game console
you wanted, if you're a good little boy and do what Santa wants...
BURN DOWN YOUR SCHOOL. Then I'll give you an XBox with every game
ever made!"
"YAY SANTA!"
Of course, Einstein knew that Santa would never recruit kids to do his
evil bidding, because Santa could burn down all the schools in the
world by himself, with his God-like powers. Then the TV news switched
to a completely serious report on the threat of nuclear war posed by
some country that claimed to have a million billion zillion nuclear
bombs even though it didn't have electricity or toilet paper. The TV
was depressing him with its news of horrible events, even though most
of them were imaginary, so Einstein turned it off and vowed to spend
this Christmas making the world a better place... through science.
A while ago he had invented a chemical powder he still needed to test,
so he took the vial off the shelf and went downtown to the place where
farts were most likely to hang around. The purpose of this brown dust
was that, when sprinkled in the air, it would make farts solid and
opaque, so that at last science would have an answer to the question,
"What shape are farts?" Einstein tried it out and huge mis-shapen
bronze blobs formed in the air, all looking exactly like Garry
Shandling's head. But then Einstein got kicked out of the public
library because the Shandling heads were clogging up the second floor,
blocking the Harry Potter books, which constituted a form of
fart-based censorship.
(The library had been open on Christmas just for the convenience of
those kids who had to write essays over Christmas vacation and needed
to go to the library and cut pictures out of the encyclopedia.)
Next, Einstein tried his solid-fart powder on the subway, and
discovered that every subway car contained exactly one fart shaped
like a subway car, but people seemed not to appreciate this valuable
discovery after they had to claw their way out of the block of fart
before they suffocated.
A cop pointed at him and yelled, "You're under arrest for making
people look at other people's farts!" Several policemen began chasing
Einstein, and he ran down the street, tossing fart powder over his
shoulder to slow them down. But he was out of shape, and almost out
of fart powder, so they were sure to catch him sooner or later. Then
he saw the entrance to:
KING SKIP'S REALLY AUTHENTYK DISCOUNT RENAISSANCE FESTYVYL
From what Einstein could see through the barbed wire, inside it seemed
to be several hundred years ago. "Aha!" he said, "I can go in there
and they won't be able to prosecute me because I won't have been
guilty hundreds of years ago, due to the Reverse Statute Of
Limitations I just made up!" He took out his wallet to pay the
entrance fee to the knight manning the cash register by the
turnstiles. A musketeer stepped between them.
"Not so fast," said the Seventh Musketeer, blocking Einstein's access
to the Knight Of Payment. "Before thou canst be admitted to ye olde
Renaissance festyvyl, your clothing must be inspected for rigid
conformity to our rules. Some of what you're wearing is acceptable,
such as that baggy tunic with the stretched-out sleeves--"
"You mean my sweater?"
"--and those shiny tights are excellent--"
"But these are the same corduroy pants I've worn since I was
twelve..."
"--however, elastic won't be invented for five centuries, and
therefore we consider it to be the work of the devil. Give me your
underwear."
"But I need my underwear, because these are the same corduroy pants
I've worn since I was twelve..."
"GIVE ME YOUR UNDERWEAR!" screamed the Seventh Musketeer, as the
Knight Of Payment drew his Sword Of Underwear Rules Enforcement. They
confiscated Einstein's underwear, and his wristwatch, and his heart
medication. They took all his paper money (because Gutenberg hadn't
invented the printing press yet), and they took all his coins (because
everyone knows that in the Middle Ages everyone only had solid gold
coins three inches across), and they took away his credit cards
(because they were made from plastic and plastic is made from oil
which came from dead dinosaurs and this was the Middle Ages so the
dinosaurs weren't dead yet.) They pocketed his money, and tossed his
underwear into a recycling bin with "RECYCLING BIN" written on it in
runes, then patted him down to ensure he wasn't bringing in any
outside food or beverages. For added authenticity, the Seventh
Musketeer opened a Tupperware tub full of lice and dumped it over
Einstein, then the Knight Of Payment yelled "NO REFUNDS!" and shoved
him through the one-way turnstile.
Suddenly, Einstein was in an actual Renaissance Festyvyl! "Wow!" he
gasped, "It's as if I'm actually in as much of the Middle Ages as I've
heard about! This is just as good as a time machine!" (He made a
mental note to dismantle the time machine he'd invented yesterday.)
This was truly the most fantastickal, magickal, wonderkful place
imaginable! Knight were fighting with swords made from actual
stainless steel, a Chinese conquistador was playing hopscotch with a
Viking with eight glow-in-the-dark horns on his helmet, pirates were
chasing wenches in little circles, women were running around wearing
nothing but chain mail bikinis, Darth Vader was riding Han Solo like a
pony, Isaac Asimov was on a flying bicycle with two other guys, and
lying in the mud on the jousting field was the bloody corpse of Fred
Flintstone. This was no ordinary Renaissance Festyvyl, but was truly
authentyk, just like in the movies! It was colorful, violent, dirty,
and beautiful!
A merchant in a leather jerkin approached him. "Please good sir,
wouldst thou sample my wares? Gatorade, eight dollars."
"They took away my money..."
"Fine, than thou shalt be apprenticed to me until thy debt is paid
off. Come, sup at my stall at yon food court."
Einstein looked at the selection. There were bottles of Gatorade in
an ice chest with the words "MEDIEVAL ICE CHEST" spelled out in sticky
Helvetica letters. And there was a grill, with some greasy little
logs on it. That was all. "Those look like fish sticks..."
"But good sir, this is the Middle Ages, and supermarket fish sticks
haven't been invented. Those are chunks of sea cod in apple batter."
"Oh! You mean those are FRUITY COD PIECES!" Einstein said a little
too loudly, just because he thought the fish sticks looked pretty gay.
But he bought some of them anyway, along with one of the medieval
flavors of Gatorade (Awesome Ale, Green Grog, Raging Rum, Mystery
Mead, and Dung), because he was hungry. Then he began his term as an
apprentice.
He spent the next several hours preparing greasy fish sticks for sale
to other suckers. Finally, he was finished, and left the stall. "I
never want to put my hands on another cod piece again!"
Next, Einstein went to a demonstration of the difference between
pantaloons and breeches and several other names for kinds of pants
that made your legs cold. He learned that the reason medieval pants
didn't have pockets was because nothing had yet been invented that was
small enough to go into a pocket, as the smallest possessions people
had in the Middle Ages were dwarves, and they were usually just kept
in large burlap sacks. Einstein marvelled at the craftsmanship of a
diorama illustrating the fantastic history of burlap, and another on
how dwarves were made.
He watched a guy making authentic medieval chain mail by twisting tiny
wires with Sears Craftsman pliers, noting that after every three
square inches the guy tossed his pliers into a large bin of broken
Craftsman pliers. At the cobbler's shop, he witnessed the magic of
people's feet being laced into shoes completely unlike the shape of a
human foot. Then he saw the most wonderful thing of all, the mud
show, where people pretending to be beggars would fall into mud for
money. It was a marvellous expression of human creativity!
He would never have expected it, but Einstein was actually enjoying
himself. He was happy for the first time since the gory death of his
dog Spot. He began whistling a happy tune.
"What's this?" bellowed a guardsman, "Do my ears deceive me? That is
a tune other than 'Greensleeves', and therefore it hasn't been
invented yet! GET HIM!" Several guards advanced on him, each
brandishing a sword, an axe, a mace, a halberd, a pike, and a glaive.
"Wait! Stop! I can be more authentykally medieval! You just have to
give me time to forget most of the stuff that's in my brain!" yelled
Einstein as they dragged him towards the Punishment Plaza in the
village square. He screamed and kicked and cried like a baby and
eventually they relented and threw him on the ground.
"Okay, if thou art truly a Renaissance Festyvyl personage," growled
the Puce Knight, "what manner or class of dork art thou?"
"Is it not it obvious?" said Einstein, getting into the spirit of
things. "Behold my comically oversized ragged clothing, with one red
sock and one blue sock. And see how my tangled hair is arranged into
two big droopy spikes. Clearly, I am the local court jester. Wouldst
thou arrest the King's fool?"
"Verily, yeah."
"Okay, then, I was just fooling. I'm not really the King's fool, I am
the King. After all, does not the King look like this--" (he
grimaced) "--and is he not this tall--" (he held his hand four feet
off the ground and ducked his head under it) "--and do his
hindquarters not protrude thusly?" (He waved his ass around.)
"Because I look exactly like the King, how do you know I am not he?"
"Well, that is an accurate, if insulting, portrayal of our beloved
King. Only the King's fool would be entitled to mock the King."
"Huzzah! I'm free to go!"
"Nah, we're going to lock you up anyway because we need someone to
fill up the stocks. People put a lot of work into building them. And
besides, even though it's only the Middle Ages, we all already hate
clowns and mimes and jesters." They padlocked him into the stocks and
hung a sign around his neck reading "NOT AUTHENTYK ENOUGH". The
villagers jeered and pelted him with centuries-old fruit and
twenty-sided dice.
"Hark!" bellowed a harksman, "The King approacheth!" Indeed, it was
the King, a most regal and kingly king, sitting in a throne which was
carried by four shining knights, who were each sitting in a chair
carried by three squires, who were sitting on stools carried by two
knaves, who were standing on top of hunchbacks. The King climbed down
from atop the human pyramid, stepping on as many faces as possible,
and walked over to Einstein.
The King scowled. "So the reports are correct! There is a new fool
in the village, although the bells seem to have fallen off the
tattered edges of his ludicrously baggy clothes! After eleven years,
I have gotten tired of my current fool, and ye shall be his
replacement. Guards! Release this new, extra-wacky fool from the
really authentyk stocks!"
They took Einstein out and inserted one of the hunchbacks instead,
which straightened him out in a hurry. Einstein was stuffed under the
seat of the King's throne and they went back to the castle.
At the castle, which was the only building in the village that didn't
burn down twice a day, Einstein met the King's previous fool.
"Hello, I'm Anson Williams, best known as TV's Potsie."
"Uh... My name's Einstein. I used to be a scientist, but at the
moment I'm a fool."
"Oh, you really don't want to be a fool in this castle. The King is
mean! Once he made me eat a bug."
"Was it a funny bug?"
"No, and it was all because I made the mistake of telling the King to
'sit on it'. Apparently that expression wasn't as popular in the
Middle Ages as it is today. Plus the King beats me, and throws
Gatorade bottles at me, and gives me noogies while wearing steel
gauntlets, and once he somehow managed to give me a swirlie in the
garderobe. I hate being the King's fool."
Einstein put his arm around Potsie. "Well, Potsie, by medieval law,
as your replacement, it is within my power to choose your manner of
execution. I shall put you out of your misery in the most human
manner yet invented... drawing and quartering."
"Oh boy! I love drawing, almost as much as I love coloring! And I
can use the quarters to buy root beer floats when it's 1958! And...
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Potsie screamed as four of the King's horses rode
out through four different doors with most of Potsie's body. There was
now a big red "X" on the floor of castle, the four trails of blood
leading off to different parts of the horizon. All that was left of
Potsie was a small chunk of meat which had stayed put because it was
in the exact center of his body, possibly the middle inch of his small
intestine. Einstein picked it up and put it in his pocket as a
souvenir of the time he saw Potsie killed during the Middle Ages.
The King bounced a Gatorade bottle off Einstein's head. "Make me
laugh NOW, fool."
Einstein spotted a pair of chamberpots and put them on his feet, and a
red rubber ball on his nose, and started dancing to re-enact one of
many heart-warmingly maudlin scenes from the heart-warmingly maudlin
movie "Patch Adams". Then he performed a medley of scenes from eleven
other heart-warmingly maudlin Robin Williams movies, but the King
became bored even before Einstein got to the disco-dancing robot from
"Bicentennial Man."
"I grow weary of this fool and his exact re-creation of the
squishiness of Robin Williams. Take him to the dungeon for..."
(dramatic pause) "...TORTURE! Ha! I could have said 'ice cream', but
no, it's TORTURE FOR YOU!" The King clapped his hands and three men
in red robes dragged Einstein away.
Einstein muttered, "I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition!"
"NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!" yelled the three men in red.
"Oh, great," said Einstein, "Nerds quoting Monty Python at the
Renaissance Festyvyl. What are the odds?"
"Three million, two hundred eighty-four thousand, seven hundred
fifty-nine to one," said Spock, who was hiding in one of the suits of
armor nailed to the corridor walls. The Renaissance Festyvyl had
suddenly turned from cool to dopey!
Einstein was thrown into a dark, damp dungeon cell. But he didn't
bounce far enough, so they took him out and threw him in again. Then
they locked the door (Einstein wished he had noticed the fine print on
his admission ticket where it said "YOU WILL BE LOCKED INSIDE THINGS"
in unreadable microscopic blackletter) and he was left to rot in the
stinky dungeon.
"Hey," said a voice from the next cell, "Is anyone there?"
"Yeah, it's me, Albert Einstein. World's greatest scientist and
crappy jester. I can't see you in this darkness... are you famous
like me?"
Einstein could barely make out the haggard face of the man sticking
his head between the bars of the next cell, and he was hard to
understand because parts of his tongue seemed to be missing. "I'm
Giordano Bruno, philosopher, artist and heretic."
"Wow! What did you do?"
"Oh, all I did was write a book titled 'Cabala of the Steed like unto
Pegasus with the Addition of the Ass of Cyllene'. I got arrested
before the Pope even finished reading the title. What's more
important is my great discovery which will revolutionize the world of
art and science by your time. Look -- in this darkened cell, I have
drilled a tiny hole in the outer wall, and the sunlight focuses
through the pinhole to project an image onto the far wall, where the
scene is permanently recorded by a complex mixture of chemical
pigments."
"All I see are some turds stuck to the wall. Doesn't look anything
like what's outside the castle, namely the barbed-wire fence behind
the fish stick stall."
Just then, the three Inquisitors returned, and went to work on Bruno.
They tried to pull out his tongue, but their Craftsman pliers broke
first. So they dragged him out to be burned at the stake, atop the
grill at the fish stick stall. As he was being hauled away, Bruno
yelled, "E PUR SI MUOVE!"
"Hey!" said Einstein, "That's Galileo's catchphrase! Just because
they're killing you is no excuse to plagiarize!"
"Okay, fine... how about I yell 'EUREKA!'?"
"No, that was Archimedes. Also you'd have to take a bath."
"Can I be a Knight Who Says 'NI!'?"
"No. People who quote Monty Python are not as funny as Monty Python.
In fact, quoting Monty Python is not funny at all. And it has never
been funny. And will never be funny."
"Well, then, if while being dragged to the stake I see a fair maiden
who looks like Jerry Lewis, can I at least yell 'SMORGASBORD!'?"
"Sure, because almost nobody saw that Jerry Lewis movie which wasn't
even released to theaters, and you'd at least be guaranteed to be
funnier than he was."
"OKAY! SMORGASBORD! SMORGASBORD! SMORGASBORD!" yelled Giordano
Bruno as he was dragged from the cell. There was a distant sound of a
propane grill being fired up.
Einstein was alone. And now he was bored. What sort of ripoff
Renaissance Festyvyl would take all your money, lock you in a dungeon,
and then not even torture you? Still, at least Giordano Bruno and his
lame attempts at comedy were gone.
The King entered, with his new fool. "Allow me to present my new
court jester. Einstein, say hello to Danny Kaye."
Danny Kaye launched into his routine about the flagon with the dragon
and the chalice at the palace. It went on and on, while Einstein
screamed and screamed.
It was the worst Christmas ever! Also, there were no refunds.
THE END
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
-- K.
Actual quote heard from a
little boy in a toy store:
"STUPID TALKING TOYS ARE
GETTING REALLY ANNOYING NOW!"
John Stone
can't improvise fiction on demand. I think L. Ron Hubbard could.
--
John Stone
The dinosaurs didn't become extinct. It's 1972, and Richard
Nixon is President of the United States. -- Dan Goodman
Darla Vladschyk
>I haven't had much time for writing lately ...
Okay! This story is good--- really fine, as a matter of fact, very
Kibological--- but better still is your appearance on Christmas
morning!
I had begun to worry that you had buggered off somewhere and were
never coming back!
Merry and Happy, Fearless Leader!
-=Darla=-
_________________________________________________
"Any time you think you might be eating poo, stop."
---Ifaz, rec.food.cooking
_________________________________________________
http://www.yougotta.com/Darla
_________________________________________________
Mark Hill
> Kibo wrote a mean-spirited story with the word "Christmas" in it. I
> can't improvise fiction on demand. I think L. Ron Hubbard could.
It wasn't mean-spirited! It killed Spot! How mean-spirited could that be?
Chris McGonnell
> ki...@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) wrote:
>
>
> >I haven't had much time for writing lately ...
>
> Okay! This story is good--- really fine, as a matter of fact, very
> Kibological--- but better still is your appearance on Christmas
> morning!
>
> I had begun to worry that you had buggered off somewhere and were
> never coming back!
>
> Merry and Happy, Fearless Leader!
Oh Darla, Robert DeNiro is Fearless Leader; Kibo's Bullwinkle J. Moose,
remember?
--
Chris McG.
Harming humanity since 1951
Uh-oh. Looners. -- Darla
-----------== Posted via Newsfeed.Com - Uncensored Usenet News ==----------
http://www.newsfeed.com The #1 Newsgroup Service in the World!
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Darla Vladschyk
>Oh Darla, Robert DeNiro is Fearless Leader; Kibo's Bullwinkle J. Moose,
>remember?
Damn. I never could keep that straight.
Fnarr?
-=D=-
madge
>
> "Darla Vladschyk" wrote ...
> > ki...@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) wrote:
> >
> >
> > >I haven't had much time for writing lately ...
> >
> > Okay! This story is good--- really fine, as a matter of fact, very
> > Kibological--- but better still is your appearance on Christmas
> > morning!
> >
> > I had begun to worry that you had buggered off somewhere and were
> > never coming back!
> >
> > Merry and Happy, Fearless Leader!
>
> Oh Darla, Robert DeNiro is Fearless Leader; Kibo's Bullwinkle J. Moose,
> remember?
Well that explains the No Smoking Signs on the Usenet Door.
--
Les looking for the "Smoking but Vegetarian and Minority Ethnic seating
area".
James Kibo Parry
>
> Kibo wrote a mean-spirited story with the word "Christmas" in it. I
> can't improvise fiction on demand. I think L. Ron Hubbard could.
YAY, NOW I AM L. RON HUBBARD! Now if only I could remember where I left
that pyramid filled with solid gold bars...
Also, aren't all my stories mean-spirited? Except for this one:
SPOT'S HAPPY NEW YEAR
"Hey, Kibo!" yapped Spot, "I just gave you all the candy
in the world because I wuv you so much!"
"Golly gee, thanks!" said Kibo, who now had all the candy
in the world. Now Spot had no candy. He starved to death.
...whoops. Let me try that again:
SPOT'S HAPPIER NEW YEAR
"Hey Kibo!" yapped Einstein, "I just brought Spot back
from the dead! And I fixed his speech impediment so
now he sounds normal!"
"ARF! ARF!" said Spot. He began chasing his tail in
circles, happy to be alive, until the mountain of candy
fell on him.
...oops. Third time's the charm:
SPOT DOESN'T DIE IN THIS STORY
"THE END!" yelled Spot. Then the story ended...
before he died. THE END!
-- K.
Fun fact: Right now, on my TV,
Barbara Bain is lying about how
much she loves Captain Kangaroo.
Sean Case
ki...@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) wrote:
> Fun fact: Right now, on my TV,
> Barbara Bain is lying about how
> much she loves Captain Kangaroo.
Should I be worried that I understand this reference?
Sean Case
--
Sean Case g...@zip.com.au
Code is an illusion. Only assertions are real.
James Kibo Parry
>
> James "Kibo" Parry (ki...@world.std.com) wrote:
> >
> > Fun fact: Right now, on my TV, Barbara Bain is lying about how
> > much she loves Captain Kangaroo.
>
> Should I be worried that I understand this reference?
Only if Matt McIrvin doesn't, because he is alt.religion.kibology's
yardstick for whether you're weird enough to understand Kibo's references.
If you're more well-versed than him in the field of study of Barbara Bain's
filthy lies about Captain Kangaroo, then you're probably weird enough
that you won't want to worry about whether you're too weird, because
you're so weird that you'd be happy to be weird, unlike normal weird people
who normally want to be not weird. Or, to put it in simpler terms, when
Ted Turner's TV networks preface a bad old horror movie with that
"100% WEIRD!" graphic, you just snort and say, "Yeah, Ted, go find me
one that's 300% weirder than that."
So if you've gone beyond the McIrvin Limit, you're weird enough to
understand me completely, and you can do society a valuable service
by exploring the limitless space out there beyond the dotted line
that separates most people from the People Who Know What Kibo Meant.
Of course, if Matt _did_ understand that reference, then you're no
weirder than he is, and therefore boring.
-- K.
So did you like Robert Wise's cameo
in that movie where Christopher Lee
played Captain Kangaroo? And if
Tom Arnold really was his own grandpa,
would he be justified in trying to
kill Captain Kangaroo?
Eli M. Balin
James "Kibo" Parry <ki...@world.std.com> wrote:
>Or, to put it in simpler terms, when
>Ted Turner's TV networks preface a bad old horror movie with that
>"100% WEIRD!" graphic, you just snort and say, "Yeah, Ted, go find me
>one that's 300% weirder than that."
It usually was hard not to respond that way, considering said graphic was
once used to introduce episodes of "The Man From U.N.C.L.E."
--
elib...@panix.com http://www.panix.com/~elibalin/
talysman
kibo explains the joke!
ki...@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) writes:
> Sean Case (g...@zip.com.au) wrote:
> >
> > James "Kibo" Parry (ki...@world.std.com) wrote:
> > >
> > > Fun fact: Right now, on my TV, Barbara Bain is lying about how
> > > much she loves Captain Kangaroo.
> >
> > Should I be worried that I understand this reference?
>
> Only if Matt McIrvin doesn't, because he is alt.religion.kibology's
> yardstick for whether you're weird enough to understand Kibo's references.
> If you're more well-versed than him in the field of study of Barbara Bain's
> filthy lies about Captain Kangaroo, then you're probably weird enough
> that you won't want to worry about whether you're too weird, because
> you're so weird that you'd be happy to be weird, unlike normal weird people
> who normally want to be not weird. Or, to put it in simpler terms, when
> Ted Turner's TV networks preface a bad old horror movie with that
> "100% WEIRD!" graphic, you just snort and say, "Yeah, Ted, go find me
> one that's 300% weirder than that."
>
> So if you've gone beyond the McIrvin Limit, you're weird enough to
> understand me completely, and you can do society a valuable service
> by exploring the limitless space out there beyond the dotted line
> that separates most people from the People Who Know What Kibo Meant.
the importance of this is: for years now, I have been wondering
what, exactly, the McIrvin Limit is. I've been googling Matt's
old posts in sci.physics.* to see if he had ever explained his
1 theory about the McIrvin Limit, but to no avail.
I have been haunted by my lack of understanding of the McIrvin
Limit mainly because YOU PEOPLE TAUNT ME WITH IT! for example,
Clancy Dalebout (whatever happened to him?) replied to my "Very
Kibo H-Mas" post (1998) with:
-> [verbose Stangian rant clipped in the interest of bandwidth]
->
-> I don't know what the McIrvin limit is in *YOUR* state...
->
-> BUCKO!
then there was Dean Lenort (whatever happened to him?) replying
to my reply to his reply to the "Crappy Poems from An Old Notebook
of Mine" thread (1999), where he pointed out one of the strange
pseudonyms I was using at the time:
-> Is HH Hekkador related in any way to Howard Hekuba, famed Hollywood
-> producer?
->
-> (I think this one approaches the McIrvin limit in some manner or form but
-> I am not confident enough in my assessment to just go out and say so.)
so NOW, I am proud to finally say: I understand the McIrvin Limit!
yay!
now, I just need to figure out where I am.
Stacia
>Or, to put it in simpler terms, when
>Ted Turner's TV networks preface a bad old horror movie with that
>"100% WEIRD!" graphic, you just snort and say, "Yeah, Ted, go find me
>one that's 300% weirder than that."
The sad thing was that I recognized all the movies the "100% Weird!"
intro used, especially the Peter Lorre ones which I recognized twice as
much. Also "100% Weird!" showed the classic 1930s Lorre horror flick "Mad
Love" which isn't weird at all, it's CLASSIC. And I only watched "100%
Weird!" because it was the filler between Joe Bob Briggs' "Monstervision"
and reruns of "Ultra 7".
NO GUN PLUS REMOTE CONTROL EQUALS ALIEN!
I used to think I was cool because I could quote from dozens of "Ultra
7" episodes, until "Eltingville" referenced "Ultra 7" and I knew I was
nowhere near the McIrvin Limit.
>So if you've gone beyond the McIrvin Limit, you're weird enough to
>understand me completely
How can someone so sane, sensible, and coherent as Matt McIrvin be so
weird? I can't be the only one here who wonders this.
* * *
Stacia * sta...@world.std.com * http://world.std.com/~stacia/
"it's the department of explodiations, sir.
we've come to detonate your buttocks."
Ben Wolfson
> NO GUN PLUS REMOTE CONTROL EQUALS ALIEN!
Does this mean that there forall GUNs g, there does not exist a REMOTE
CONTROL r such that g + r = ALIEN, or that there does exist some NOT-GUN n
and REMOTE CONTROL r such that n + r = ALIEN? I need to know for a logic
class.
--
You're going to set me up as a kind of slovenly attached pig that
Jack Kornfeld can slice down in his violent zen compassion?
-- Larry Block
Jeremy Impson
> How can someone so sane, sensible, and coherent as Matt McIrvin be so
> weird? I can't be the only one here who wonders this.
I've wondered, and, indeed, I've figured it out. He's as insane,
insensible, and incoherent as the rest of us. But he's repressed and
internalized it, as well!
--Jeremy
--
Jeremy Impson
jdim...@acm.org
http://impson.tzo.com/~jdimpson
Dean Lenort
> then there was Dean Lenort (whatever happened to him?) [...]
And what ever happened to searchenginebombing? PL0NK!!!
You're really building up quite the biscuit deficit young man.
--
Dean Lenort | It wouldn't be Communism if it didn't hurt.
dean.lenort | -- Peter Willard
@att.net |