just because i was bored, i decided to start a running waste of time and space each day, until i get bored, enough people beg me to stop, or i run out of pointless stuff to fill it with...this was inspired by a combination of boredom, this post at Dog Snot Diaries, and my last post, which reminded me just how profound Dan Quayle could be, oh sorry, meant profoundly confused...i also happen to love puns, the worse, the better...here is today's assortment:
Quaylism - "It isn't pollution that's harming the environment. It's the
impurities in our air and water that are doing it."
Playlist -
Leftfield - Essential Mix(4-16-2000)
Satoshi Tomiie - Live At Ibiza
Fatboy Slim - Live on Brighton Beach(7-13-2002)
Brooklyn Bounce - In The Restart Mix
Infected Mushroom - Live On thump Radio(9-23-2001)
Pun - After Quasimodo's death, the Bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was needed.
The Bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and went up into the belfry to begin the screening process.
After observing several applicants demonstrate their skills, he decided to call it a day. Just then, an armless man approached him and announced that he was there to apply for the bell ringer's job. The Bishop was incredulous.
"You have no arms!" said he.
"No matter," said the armless chap, "Observe!" And he began striking the bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon.
The Bishop listened in astonishment; convinced he had finally found a replacement for Quasimodo. But suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street below. The stunned Bishop rushed to his side.
When he reached the street, a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moments before. As they silently parted to let the Bishop through, one of them asked, "Bishop, who was this man?"
"I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied, " I don't know his name . . . . ."but his face sure rings a bell."
The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the Bishop continued his interviews for the bell ringer of Notre Dame.
The first man to approach him said, "Your Excellency, I am the brother of the poor armless wretch that fell to his death from this very belfry yesterday. I pray that you honor his life by allowing me to replace him in this duty."
The Bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and, as the armless man's brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he moaned, clutched at his chest, twirled around, and died on the spot. The monks, hearing the Bishop's cries of grief at this second tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side.
"What has happened? Who is this man?" the first monk asked breathlessly.
"I don't know his name," sighed the distraught Bishop, but . . ." "He's a dead ringer for his brother."
And Finally A List -
The Warning Signs of Insanity
Your friends tell you that you have been acting strange lately, then you hit them several times with a sledgehammer.
Everyone you meet appears to have tentacles growing out of place that you wouldn't expect tentacles to be growing from.
You write to your mother in Germany every week, even though she sends you mail from Iowa asking why you never write.
Every commercial you hear on the radio reminds you of death.
You begin to stop and consider all of the blades of grass you stepped on as a child, and worry that their descendants are going to one day seek revenge.
You have meaningful conversations with your blender.
You scream "I've got a knife!" to people who try to sell you things.
You scream "I've got a knife!" to people at your family reunion
You cry at the end of every episode of Gilligan's Island, because you wanted to be on the island too.
You put tennis balls in the microwave to see if they'll hatch.
Every time you see the commercial for the Hair Club For Men, you think to yourself, "I think I'll kill the pope today."
You argue with yourself about which is better, to be eaten by a koala or to be loved by an infectious disease.
You like to sit in cornfields for prolonged periods of time, and pretend that you're a stalk.
You think that exploding wouldn't be so bad, once you got used it.
Posted by Angstman at July 20, 2003 05:52 AM | TrackBack