Monday, April 10, 2006
Silly Signs Blog
I just discovered this today: a blog that posts pictures of silly signs that people have photographed. Definitely worth a visit!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Mmmm Meat Thins
Mmmmmm. It's late, and you are looking for that perfect snack to enjoy while watching the latest episode of Cops on your TiVo. Pretzels and Chips are too salty, and just not filling. Popcorn will do you good, but it just doesn't satisfy. You don't really want the sweet sweet taste of chocolate, because what you really want is some MEAT.
Meat Thins are juicy square morsels of meat packed in an airtight box that you can snack on anytime! Mmmmmm, I love those Meat Thins.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Monday, February 13, 2006
Which Star Trek character are you?
Friday, February 03, 2006
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
MEAT!
I don't know the source of this text, and neither did the person who sent it my way. I googled the first line, and came across a link that took me to the page linked above (click on MEAT!). Apparently this was printed in OMNI April 1991, credited to Terry Bisson. Since I think anything with the word MEAT in it is funny anyway (don't ask), I found this to be side-splitter:
"They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"Meat. They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."
"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars."
"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."
"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."
"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."
"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."
"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."
"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?"
"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."
"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."
"No brain?"
"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat!"
"So... what does the thinking?"
"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat."
"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"
"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"
"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."
"Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."
"So what does the meat have in mind?"
"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The usual."
"We're supposed to talk to meat?"
"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?' That sort of thing."
"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."
"I thought you just told me they used radio."
"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."
"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"
"Officially or unofficially?"
"Both."
"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."
"I was hoping you would say that."
"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"
"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say?" `Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"
"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."
"So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe."
"That's it."
"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You're sure they won't remember?"
"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."
"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."
"And we can mark this sector unoccupied."
"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"
"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again."
"They always come around."
"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe would be if one were all alone."
"They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"Meat. They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."
"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars."
"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."
"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."
"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."
"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."
"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."
"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?"
"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."
"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."
"No brain?"
"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat!"
"So... what does the thinking?"
"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat."
"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"
"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"
"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."
"Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."
"So what does the meat have in mind?"
"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The usual."
"We're supposed to talk to meat?"
"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?' That sort of thing."
"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."
"I thought you just told me they used radio."
"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."
"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"
"Officially or unofficially?"
"Both."
"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."
"I was hoping you would say that."
"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"
"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say?" `Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"
"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."
"So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe."
"That's it."
"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You're sure they won't remember?"
"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."
"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."
"And we can mark this sector unoccupied."
"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"
"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again."
"They always come around."
"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe would be if one were all alone."
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Monday, September 12, 2005
One Week Away!
Listen ye skalliwags, me favorite day is approachin' quick (barely half-a-fortnight!), and I expect this here ship to be ready. Swab the decks, and fly the Jolly Roger, 'cuz we've got ships to scuttle, and grog to swill! Arrrrr!!!
UPDATE
Just got these TLAPD pointers from Cap'n Slappy, and Ol' Chumbucket themselves:
* Aaarr! – Intersperse it into your conversation to add a patina of pirattitude! But remember – A little Aarrr! goes a long way.
* Me hearties – When all else fails, throw "me hearties" into any conversation. "Fill it with unleaded, me hearties!" "The doctor will see you now, me hearties!" "I'll have a pepperoni pizza with anchovies, me hearties!" See? You sound just like a freebooter fillin' his tank, or visitin' the doctor or whatever!
* At work – Don't answer the phone, "Hello? This is marketing ...." or whatever department ye work in. Scrunch up yer face and bellow into the blower, "Ahoy ye scurvy dog! How can I scuttle ye today!"
* At school – yer teacher is cap'n, yer principal is Admiral Wobblebottom, the class is yer crew and lunch is prepared in the galley.
* At parties and buccaneer bashes all weekend long – Make yer entrance to the cry, "Boarders away!" and make sure that any lubbers there know exactly who has the pirattitude and who doesn't.
* Where ever you are – Start the day by sending everyone you know a hearty "Aarrr!" in their e-mail or by phone. Ye'll feel better for it.
UPDATE
Just got these TLAPD pointers from Cap'n Slappy, and Ol' Chumbucket themselves:
* Aaarr! – Intersperse it into your conversation to add a patina of pirattitude! But remember – A little Aarrr! goes a long way.
* Me hearties – When all else fails, throw "me hearties" into any conversation. "Fill it with unleaded, me hearties!" "The doctor will see you now, me hearties!" "I'll have a pepperoni pizza with anchovies, me hearties!" See? You sound just like a freebooter fillin' his tank, or visitin' the doctor or whatever!
* At work – Don't answer the phone, "Hello? This is marketing ...." or whatever department ye work in. Scrunch up yer face and bellow into the blower, "Ahoy ye scurvy dog! How can I scuttle ye today!"
* At school – yer teacher is cap'n, yer principal is Admiral Wobblebottom, the class is yer crew and lunch is prepared in the galley.
* At parties and buccaneer bashes all weekend long – Make yer entrance to the cry, "Boarders away!" and make sure that any lubbers there know exactly who has the pirattitude and who doesn't.
* Where ever you are – Start the day by sending everyone you know a hearty "Aarrr!" in their e-mail or by phone. Ye'll feel better for it.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Hurricane Support at Walmart
I figure its worth breaking my "DewKid Blog" silence for this:
I heard this morning that WalMart was accepting donations for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. You can go into any store, and donate money at any cashier.
Red Cross could always use the help too.
I'm looking at pictures of the damage and flooding in New Orleans: Oh My God. Lets all come together to help our fellow Americans in this time of crisis.
I heard this morning that WalMart was accepting donations for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. You can go into any store, and donate money at any cashier.
Red Cross could always use the help too.
I'm looking at pictures of the damage and flooding in New Orleans: Oh My God. Lets all come together to help our fellow Americans in this time of crisis.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
... and thus the end
I haven't posted in a long while, and probably wont again. I'm tempted to delete this blog altogether, but I'm hesistant to do so for some reason.
Instead, I encourage you to visit my other, much more active blog: RealmSpeak.
Later!
DewKid
Instead, I encourage you to visit my other, much more active blog: RealmSpeak.
Later!
DewKid
Friday, October 15, 2004
Lazy Baby filled with Beans
I found this little cardboard heart in my car the other day. Seeing as I have three little girls, it likely fell off some doll that we purchased a while back.
Still, the title of the doll amused me, and I find myself using this sentance in regular everyday discussion:
"So, did you watch the debate on TV?"
"Nah, I'm just a lazy baby filled with beans."
Ngyaad!
Friday, September 17, 2004
Talk Like A Pirate Day
Arrr! Avast me hearties, and shiver me timbers! Talk like a pirate day is rapidly approaching, and I've still got ships to loot! Still, time for a quick break on the sofa with me girls and me trusty blade.
If music be yer thing, ye might avoid Davy Jones Locker by downloading the "Talk Like a Pirate Day Song"
Yo ho!
If music be yer thing, ye might avoid Davy Jones Locker by downloading the "Talk Like a Pirate Day Song"
Yo ho!
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Six Comments
It seems I have six comments on all of my posts (except this one for now!). I figured I'd better add a sixth post to make it even out.
Maybe then, my head will explode.
Brfgh.
Maybe then, my head will explode.
Brfgh.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Love that Rubberband Man
I don't know what it is - the music, the hair, or just his sense of office style. The Rubberband Man is always there to make sure you are properly supplied, and ready for the day. Office Max has a winner with this ad campaign. For some reason, these ads make me feel good, and I'm often up on my feet to join the Rubberband Man on his quest to bring rulers, pencils, and erasers to all the schoolchildren and cubicle workers everywhere.
Hey 'yall, prepare yourself for the Rubberband Man!
Hey 'yall, prepare yourself for the Rubberband Man!
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Spam Tricks
God I hate spam. The latest trick I've been seeing, is messages arriving in my e-mail box with artificially old dates. Since I have my e-mail normally sorted by date (like many people), these spams arrive "off-screen" and waste a bit more of my time as I scroll down to find them. I always know they are there, because my Inbox shows unread messages that clearly aren't visible.
The best defense is to take care with who (or what) can get your e-mail. My ISP allows me to create/remove e-mails at my whim, so I generally always create a special account when signing up for something online. This payed off recently, when I joined a contest for Mt. Dew online. As soon as I joined, my spam to the special account I created jumped to 100 or so junk messages a day!! Jeese, Pepsi sold me out fast enough! I deactivated the account so that spammers would get bounced e-mail. After 2 or so months, I thought I would fire up the account again to see what happens. Not an hour after the account was reactivated, I got several spam messages. By the end of the day, I had about 20 messages! Damn these guys are persistent. Needless to say, I've deep-sixed that account for good.
Fortunately, Netscape's Junk mail filter does a pretty darn good job of catching 98% of the spam I get, but its still annoying. My ISP has something called "SpamAssassin" that I've never turned on, but I've not felt that I've needed it just yet. I'm only getting about 5-10 messages a day that are junk, and that I can tolerate (knocking on wood here).
Now if I could just find a similar tool for filtering out the credit card and mortgage loan ads from my snail mail box, I'd be in pretty good shape!
The best defense is to take care with who (or what) can get your e-mail. My ISP allows me to create/remove e-mails at my whim, so I generally always create a special account when signing up for something online. This payed off recently, when I joined a contest for Mt. Dew online. As soon as I joined, my spam to the special account I created jumped to 100 or so junk messages a day!! Jeese, Pepsi sold me out fast enough! I deactivated the account so that spammers would get bounced e-mail. After 2 or so months, I thought I would fire up the account again to see what happens. Not an hour after the account was reactivated, I got several spam messages. By the end of the day, I had about 20 messages! Damn these guys are persistent. Needless to say, I've deep-sixed that account for good.
Fortunately, Netscape's Junk mail filter does a pretty darn good job of catching 98% of the spam I get, but its still annoying. My ISP has something called "SpamAssassin" that I've never turned on, but I've not felt that I've needed it just yet. I'm only getting about 5-10 messages a day that are junk, and that I can tolerate (knocking on wood here).
Now if I could just find a similar tool for filtering out the credit card and mortgage loan ads from my snail mail box, I'd be in pretty good shape!
Thursday, August 26, 2004
The Build is Code Red!
Cool link:
Bubble Bubble Build's in Trouble
The only thing I'd change, is that a good build would result in a chilled Mt. Dew, and a bad build would result in a chilled Code Red.
Mmmmmm Dew.
Bubble Bubble Build's in Trouble
The only thing I'd change, is that a good build would result in a chilled Mt. Dew, and a bad build would result in a chilled Code Red.
Mmmmmm Dew.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Color Scheme
Despite the fact that I didn't think I wanted to start a blog, I spent way too much time playing with the settings. Now I've got a rather decidedly ugly looking blog that needs a lot of work. Sigh.
What the...?
Not sure I wanted to actually start a blog..... just wanted a username.....
Hmmm.
The Dewkid
Hmmm.
The Dewkid
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