From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Battlefield Boston Date: Thu, 14 Jul 2005 10:15:06 -0400 John Schmidt (js@radix.net) wrote: > > David DeLaney (dbd@gatekeeper.vic.com) wrote: > > > > TeaLady (Mari C.) (spressobean@yahoo.com) wrote: > > > > > > I've had people give me a bowl of watery red stuff with a few > > > pieces of meat and a bean in it, call it chili. Ew. > > > > So basically there should be a spoon-stands-up-in-it test to pass? > > Yep - just like pretty much *everything* in life. Spoon? Real chili is eaten with a fork. Plastic forks are best (spicy food doesn't play well with metal utensils.) You know how, on the original "Star Trek", whenever Kirk and Spock did brunch at one of the Enterprise's space dining room tables, they pretended to eat stacks of little cubes of orange, blue, and green kitchen sponges? Take one of those piles of little cubes, spray-paint it reddish-black, and that's the world's most perfect chili. 90% meat, 10% chili, maybe 0.03% tomatoes. Chili should stay on the plate where you put it, not require you to sip it out of a teacup through a bendy straw. Spoons are for liquids and those times when Benny Hill needs to get his martini olive out of the woman's cleavage. Forks are for meat. Had Benny Hill known about forks, he would have been funnier. -- K. Real chili can even be eaten with chopsticks. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Spray-on pantyhose? Spray-on... pantyhose? Date: Thu, 14 Jul 2005 11:00:07 -0400 I just saw... a TV commercial for spray-on pantyhose. (Actually, technically, I guess they'd just be hose, since I don't think you're supposed to spray the stuff into your panty zone, but the ads always call it "pantyhose".) "Air Stocking" costs $28 a can (which, I believe, is more than a pair of pantyhose, not to mention a lot more work to put on.) One vendor's Web site assures us, "You can't go wrong with choosing a color of Air Stocking." All five colors of it include shredded silk, green tea, and extra caffeine -- apparently now it's important to spray caffeine directly onto your knees. Observations: 1. Is Stanislaw Lem still alive and in possession of enough of his faculties to see his wet dream come true? 2. I've heard that during World War II, dames would draw a line up the back of their leg with an eyebrow pencil so they could pretend they were wearing seamed stockings, due to a shortage of nylon what with all those selfish airmen wanting to have parachutes. So what part of the current war effort has led to this new form of imitation hosiery? 3. What's the point, really, of something which doesn't provide any support? Seem like all the spray-on silk would do is to make your legs fuzzy, and I thought women didn't like that. 4. How many cans would Gert Frobe need to cover Shirley Eaton in the exciting new movie, "James Bond In Pantyhosefinger"? 5. Is Air Stocking the reason superheroes in comic books don't have any zippers on what we think are their skintight outfits? That would explain why Plastic Man, Elastic Lad, and Reed Richards don't tear their clothes when they stretch. (The Fantastic Four used up their shared can before they got to Ben Grimm, so he had to use a can of expanding foam insulation -- the new peanut-butter flavor.) 6. What would happen if Ron Howard thought he was reaching for a can of spray-on hair and accidentally used a can of spray-on fleshtone pantyhose on his head? Would he have to become a bank robber, or would he just become Clint Howard and drink himself silly with a big bottle of tranya? -- K. Remember when V'Ger's green plasma energy discharge burned Chekov's hand and Dr. Chapel had to hose his hand down with Air Stocking? ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Spray-on pantyhose? Spray-on... pantyhose? Date: Sun, 17 Jul 2005 08:31:02 -0400 [pantyhose pantyhose pantyhose!!!] Rose Marie Holt (rmholt1@mindspring.com) wrote: > > TeaLady (Mari C.) (spressobean@yahoo.com) wrote: > > > > I rubbed benadryl cream all over my legs and didn't itch until > > about 3:45. As I get out at 4:30, that wasn't too bad. > > > > I need to find some silk stockings. Silk doesn't make me > > itch. > > Have you tried taking a long-lasting claritin? Less drowsy, lasts > longer, and for me worked better. Dont take benadryl if you have it on > your skin for some reason. Oh boo hoo, a little itching. Ladies, men wear things that itch _all_ the time, especially firemen with those asbestos-lined jockstraps. Men don't let a little itching stop them from riding a bike, climbing a mountain, or knowing how to work a gas pump. > ALso, dermatologists have their favorite creams - mine uses one with > steroids and coolants. Sunburn gel (with lodocaine) for emergencies. I know I got up too early this morning because when I first read that, my brain saw that your dermatologist uses a cream "with steroids and cooties." And now that I have invented itch cream with built-in cooties, I'll be rich! HEY LADIES COME GET A FREE SAMPLE OF MY ITCHY ITCH CREAM! FIRST TUBE IS FREE! I'LL BE RIGHT HERE WHEN YOU NEED LOTS MORE! > Also, if you push on an itch instead of itching it, it gets better, > like a bump. Twiki, stop doing that ridiculous 20th-century dance and help me save New Chicago from Frank Gorshin. -- K. I betcha Twiki's costume itched all over. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Spray-on pantyhose? Spray-on... pantyhose? Date: Mon, 18 Jul 2005 11:50:42 -0400 TeaLady (Mari C.) (spressobean@yahoo.com) wrote: > > James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) wrote: > > > > Oh boo hoo, a little itching. Ladies, men wear things that > > itch _all_ the time, especially firemen with those > > asbestos-lined jockstraps. > > Uh uhuh. I work with foremen, and I know their jockstraps > aren't asbestos lined. Hell, they wear plain old undies. > Some with cute little 'roos on them. If you can't tell the difference between a fireman and a foreman, you're going to be really confused by The New Village People. You'd probably keep getting the astronaut and the scuba diver confused too, not to mention the hockey player and the lumberjack. Anyway, watch The New Village People solving crimes every Saturday morning (a Hanna-Barbera production.) You'll be able to buy the cute little Underoos soon. They'll also be asbestos-lined. You should stop huffing the spray-on pantyhose. The silk's gone directly to your brain. -- K. That's the same thing that happened to Burt Ward. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Spray-on pantyhose? Spray-on... pantyhose? Date: Fri, 15 Jul 2005 22:23:53 -0400 Rose Marie Holt (rmholt1@mindspring.com) wrote: > > Darla Vladschyk (Darla4695@Gmail.com) wrote: > > > > You can purchase pantyhose that have cotton "soles" as well > > as a cotton "gusset." I love that word. > > [...] They are too hot! They are going to the Thrift shop > next week. I just wear pants. All the time. Well, then, you'll never get to marry Dick Van Dyke. > I overheat even when my thyroid is low. These days I am a little > hypert and it is over 100 and I went kayaking and dinged my chest cage > on a rock. So go to Victoria's Secret and buy another one. This time try to get a more impact-resistant grade of whalebone. > Anyways, just looking at leggings of any type makes me uncomfortable. Really? Even chaps? > And I cant wait until next week when it will be 100 here and hopefully > less than that in Seattle. At least in my basement. Whalebone chaps plus basement sounds like fun to me. One question, though -- are you using Fahrenheit or Celsius? 'Cause being steam-scalded is bad pain. > Plus, my chest hertz. You'll never sell your romance novel until you change that to "my womanly bosom is heaving", whether or not the book is about food poisoning. -- K. And hey, are those chi pants you're wearing? ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Spray-on pantyhose? Spray-on... pantyhose? Date: Fri, 15 Jul 2005 10:38:41 -0400 Joseph Michael Bay (jmbay@Stanford.EDU) wrote: > > James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) wrote: > > > > 2. I've heard that during World War II, dames would draw a line up > > the back of their leg with an eyebrow pencil so they could pretend > > they were wearing seamed stockings, due to a shortage of nylon > > what with all those selfish airmen wanting to have parachutes. > > So what part of the current war effort has led to this new > > form of imitation hosiery? > > They need sexy stockings to dress up prisoners in. As I once said, the main result of all the scandalous attention given to the brutality at Abu Ghraib will be that the Army will redesign its sandbags. So, what you're saying is that from now on they're going to just make their prisoners wear stocking masks? Hmm. Do they even make reasonably opaque nylons? Also, why don't bank robbers wear stocking masks any more? I realize nobody wears three-hole ski masks any more because there aren't many places you can buy them, but is there a reason bank robbers no longer wear pantyhose over their heads other than the fact that it does nothing to disguise them and "The Nude Bomb" was a major flop? -- K. I think everyone should wear three-hole ski masks all the time, except Charlie Brown, who should have a ninety-four-hole one. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Hey, MeatTerri Date: Fri, 15 Jul 2005 11:09:41 -0400 Tom Kraemer (tkraemer+ark@world.std.com) wrote: > > [...] State Quarters are not a good investment strategy. They are if you produce enough of them to offset the cost of the stamping machine -- but I have said too much. Slot machines are for laundering. Laundry machines aren't, since they don't give change. You know how they now let you order postage stamps with your own photo on them? They really should let you do that with paper money. You should be able to choose the color and dimensions of the bill, too. Also the value. Like, you could get a bill printed that says "$1" on one side and "$3" on the other, and you'd spend it face-up or face-down depending on which type of bar you were in. Oh, and they should let you print your own parking tickets and stick them on anything that doesn't movie, like buildings and old people. -- K. VOTE KIBO FOR PRESIDENT 2005 ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Whatcha got in the trunk? continues. Date: Fri, 15 Jul 2005 11:29:10 -0400 Adam Funk (a24061@yahoo.com) wrote: > > [...] > > Why has there been a recent glut of child-in-trunk incidents? I don't know, but my advice is to start investing in drive-in movie theaters before the craze peaks. > Have people suddenly started doing this, or have the police suddenly > started noticing it? Over on Lileks.com there's this great old A&P ad that demonstrates how popular A&P supermarkets are by showing a dozen baby buggies left outside the store while the housewives are yakyakyakking away over the cans of Spam inside. It boggles my mind to think that our unwritten rules of society back then dictated that it was not okay to leave the baby alone at home when you went shopping, but it was okay to take the kid halfway to the store and then leave him alone in the sunlight for a while. http://www.lileks.com/institute/gallery/ads/ap.html That was back when people used the word "babysnatchers", instead of being smart enough to find ways to avoid needing to use that word. You could presumably go to any local A&P and collect enough babies so that eighteen years later you'd have a complete brothel. Or, if you dropped in five times a day for a whole week, you'd have enough babies to fill a Pool Of Babies you could jump into, though I can't imagine why anyone would want to do that, even though I'm sure there must be a Yahoo group devoted to the topic. Come to think of it, I don't know why anyone would need to steal babies to start with, given how many are up for grabs in orphanages and crack houses. Man, society is depressing to live in. -- K. We used to have one stray A&P store in Boston, but I never saw any free babies outside. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Whatcha got in the trunk? continues. Date: Fri, 15 Jul 2005 22:53:36 -0400 Rose Marie Holt (rmholt1@mindspring.com) wrote: > > I like to walk through parking lots on sunny days, looking for an excuse > to bust someone's window and rescue a baby. I think I love you. That's dangerously close to the fantasies I have when I'm in a bad mood where I hope someone will attempt to mug me so I can find out whether I can kill a man to protect the money I don't have. So do you carry a paramedic's car window punch, or do you just use an ordinary riot baton? I like the window punch with the retractable spike for popping airbags (and needless to say, it's got a seat belt cutter blade, they always do) but it's orange plastic and I think it would be so much cooler if it was made of non-sparking bronze like those firemen's crash axes with the pentagonal wrench for the hydrant valve built-in. I'm just saying I get a lot of catalogs. > I also keep an eye on the (unfenced) irrigation ditches for > floating drunks and toddlers. Yesterday during evening rush hour I saw a guy, in business attire, riding his bicycle home, and he was being one of these guys who rides his bike as if he's performing to let everyone see how cool he is -- except when he came to an intersection, he'd take his hands off the handlebars and put them both in his pockets. I keep an eye out for people who are that willfully unsafe so that I will already have my eyes focused in time to see the carnage when Mr. Hands In Pockets encounters a sudden steer-or-die moment. I have no sympathy for people who put themselves in situations they have to be aware are dangerous, nor do I have any sympathy for anyone who endangers other people. However, I do have sympathy for the poor paramedics who have to buy tool in all sorts of garish colors and can't just have everything in a nice metallic bronze. Bronze good. Most people bad. So, Rose, buy me one of these and I'll follow you around and we'll smash windows in the name of safety: http://www.kibo.com/pix/2005_07_bronze_crash_axe.jpg -- K. Which works better: Bronze barbarian helmet with bronze firefighter axe, or fireman helmet with big spool of Jet-Axe? ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Whatcha got in the trunk? continues. Date: Sun, 17 Jul 2005 08:49:58 -0400 John D Salt (jdsalt_AT_gotadsl.co.uk) wrote: > > Rose Marie Holt (rmholt1@mindspring.com) wrote: > > > > James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) > > > > > > So, Rose, buy me one of these and I'll follow you around and we'll > > > smash windows in the name of safety: > > > > > > http://www.kibo.com/pix/2005_07_bronze_crash_axe.jpg > > > > Perhaps a set of brass knuckles - I could always say I had > > them for other reasons. > > I can see that having limited success with a sceptical rozzer. > > "Brass knucks, officer? Yes, I carry them for medical reasons. > Also, that thing you're looking at may look like an H&K G36 with > underslung grenade launcher, but it's really, errr, an endosope." In most of the more interesting states in the U.S., brass knuckles and anything remotely brass-knuckle-like made out of metal are illegal to own, let alone carry or use, so people know how to get around this by carrying (a) a roll of quarters or better yet, (b) a plastic keychain which happens to be shaped like something which provides convenient fingerholes and has a couple of spikes sticking out of it -- the best designs I've seen are kitties and doggies where you put your fingers through the cat's eyes and then the cat's ears go through someone else's eyes. http://www.selfdefenseproducts.com/Keychains/wildkat.php picture mirrored at: http://www.kibo.com/pix/2005_07_keychains.jpg Scientists should breed some animal with hundreds of ears so that we can then design a weapon to take out hundreds of eyeballs at once. -- K. Besides, bronze knuckles would be sexier. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Whatcha got in the trunk? continues. Date: Fri, 15 Jul 2005 17:53:05 -0400 Joseph Michael Bay (jmbay@Stanford.EDU) wrote: > > James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) wrote: > > > > That was back when people used the word "babysnatchers", instead of > > being smart enough to find ways to avoid needing to use that word. > > My girlfriend and I were sitting outside at a cafe in Palo Alto > when these people showed up, leaving their baby outside, and went > in to order brunch. We considered taking the baby next door and > leaving a note, but decided against going to prison forever. You should've just left a note. Felp-tip pens write nicely on baby's smooth skin. Oh, don't give me that about markers having toxic solvents. You should carry one of those surgical markers that use a harmless gentian violet extract which can be washed off with isopropyl alcohol. They only come in purple but that's okay because that's a color creepy tattoos come in. Just write "YOU ARE NEGLIGENT PARENTS" on the baby to teach 'em a lesson. And so that the baby's not traumatized by this, also write "YOU ARE A CUTE BABY AND I LOVE YOU UNCONDITIONALLY". If you're worried about getting caught during the time it would take, get a stencil made so you can use spray-paint. Oh, don't give me that about spray paint having toxic solvents. Didn't you read the thread about other uses for spray-on pantyhose? If all else fails, to teach the parents a lesson, you could always just smear something icky on the handle of the baby buggy. -- K. And yet these people never think to leave their annoying cell phones outside. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Whatcha got in the trunk? continues. Date: Mon, 18 Jul 2005 21:27:25 -0400 David DeLaney (dbd@gatekeeper.vic.com) wrote: > > So when is Kibo going to review Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? So when are you going to take me to go see it? Or better yet, mail me a bootleg DVD. Everything's better when you can watch it at home and eat White Castles while violating someone's intellectual-property rights. Send me some White Castles with the DVD. In the meantime, you'll have to make do with this little confection I whipped up in May, 1998. This story was inspired by a segment I had written for "The Special Show!", which was inspired by a TV commercial starring a scary talking diaper. I wrote it to try to prevent anyone from ever making another movie about Charlie's fudge factory. -- K. It wasn't worth posting, but it's worth reposting. DIPPITY DOG AND THE DIAPER FACTORY ================================== by James "Kibo" Parry Copyright (C)1998 James "Kibo" Parry God was, as always, nine hundred feet tall. Because of that, He couldn't sit on the furniture in most of Heaven, where the normal people and their pets stayed. He had to stay on a special cloud with all the other dead people who were 900 feet tall, which meant He was all alone except for the hundred or so monsters Ultraman had killed. God was hungry, so He took out a Deity-size package of Oscar Mayer Cotto Salami. He tried to pull apart the easy-open package for a while, then He gave up and used His safety scissors. God peeled off a delicious-looking slice, and--whoops, butterfingers!--He dropped it. As He saw it falling away through the clouds, God swore, so loud that no force in the Universe could bleep it. * * * * * Spot was happy! He had just left his house to stroll through the neighborhood showing off how cool he was in his new "HOT DIGGITY DOG" shirt. Well, actually, that's what the salesman had _told_ him it said. It really said "DIPPITY DOG". "Hey, look, a little dippity dog!" said a construction worker, who felt permitted to pick up Spot and dip in him a vat of warm asphalt. Then he double-dipped Spot in a trough of concrete and set him back on the sidewalk. "Thank you," said Spot, then he ran away. He went home and took a shower. Spot was still feeling pretty good! He left his house again and was strolling down the other side of the street, well away from the construction worker who had started stirring a huge bucket of Magic Shell just in case any more dippity dogs came by. Spot came to an intersection and was in the middle of crossing the street when-- SPLAT! A twenty-foot-diameter slice of cotto salami fell on him like a wet, greasy tarp. Spot was trapped! He couldn't breathe due to the lack of oxygen and the surfeit of salami. He could barely crawl around under the salami slice, and inched his way over to where sunlight was filtering through a large translucent white blob the size of a sofa cushion. He pushed against the fat blob, and it popped out. Spot climbed out of the hole and looked around. He was standing dead center on the world's largest piece of ordinary household salami. It was dotted with the beige blobs of fat, and tiny red capillaries that looked like garden hoses filled with red nail polish ran through it. In front of Spot there was a peppercorn, which looked like a wooden basketball, old and covered with cracked bark. In the cracks some sort of fungus was growing. And the part of the salami that had been in contact with the peppercorn was shrivelled and discolored and was growing a skin, which was about a foot thick at Spot's scale. In fact, if Spot looked really closely (and believe me, he did) he could see the individual cells in the salami meat. They looked like little Baggies filled with a mixture of protoplasm and hair oil, and in each Baggie was a handful of chromosomes, which looked like X-shaped dreadlocks made of black steel wool. "Eww!" said Spot. "I never realized cotto salami was this disgusting up close! From now on, I'm only going to eat _other_ processed meats, like baloney, hot dogs, and breakfast sausage!" The moment he left the vicinity of the gross salami slice, his stomach resumed its perpetual growling, reminding Spot that small dogs are always hungry. Spot headed for the nearest fast food restaurant, which happened to be a Diaper Burger. Spot had never been in one before, but what the heck? A burger's a burger. "Hi, sir, what'll it be today?" asked the counter clerk, who was wearing a uniform consisting of a paper hat and a polyester diaper. Spot studied the illuminated 3-D plastic menu. "Um... I'll have... a Diaper Burger... no, wait, make that a Diaper Deluxe... and a small diet Coke. Very small." "I'm sorry, sir, we don't have Coke. We have Diaper Cola. And what other places call a small, we call an extra-large." "Okay, then give me an extra-large Diaper Cola... but only if it's as good as Coke." The clerk smiled patiently. "It's exactly the same secret formula. Diaper Cola is just Coke with a different label on the bottle." Then the clerk opened a Zip-Loc bag and poured some transparent gray fluid into a very small paper cup. "Enjoy your Diaper Cola. Your Diaper Deluxe will be ready in a moment." Spot took the cola and tried to sip it, but all the ice cubes were blocking the straw. "Say, why do you call this restaurant Diaper Burger? It's a disgusting name for a restaurant! I sure hope you don't serve cotto salami." "Sir, we're Diaper Burger for a very logical reason: this chain is owned by Mr. Diaper." "The baby diaper deliver service? I've heard of them." The clerk smiled some more. "You misunderstand me, sir. I mean we're owned by MISTER DIAPER." "That's me!" said a man in a business suit, with an extremely squeaky voice. Spot thought there was something odd about him and then noticed the man had a large talking diaper for a head. It had beady black eyes that moved around independently of the diaper as if they were animated onto his head by a spastic guy with a colored pencil. "Welcome to Diaper Burger! I am very proud of Diaper Burger! I own Diaper Burger! I hope you're enjoying Diaper Burger! You're in Diaper Burger!" Mr. Diaper began to break-dance, accompanied by the restaurant's entire staff and a guy in a wheelchair. They did a funky dance, and then the rest of the staff went back to work, and the wheelchair guy went back to waiting in the closet for another break-dancing scene. The clerk handed Spot his freshly-reheated Diaper Deluxe. Spot lifted a corner of the bun and saw a patty made of what _appeared_ to be meat. "Um, Mister Diaper, my name's Spot, and I just had a nasty run-in with some salami. Can you guarantee that this contains meat but not salami?" Mr. Diaper threw back his head, or rather his diaper, and laughed. "Why, silly little dippity dog--" (he paused to dip Spot in a vat of artificially-flavored horseradish) "--we make all this meat ourselves in my magical Diaper Factory. Take a bite." Spot took a bite and broke all his upper teeth. He pulled a large gold bar out of his mouth. "What's this doing in my burger?" Mr. Diaper took the bar and flipped it over to show Spot the lettering on the bottom. "Spot, this is a Golden Ticket (cash value zero point zero one cents.) It entitles you to come along on a magical trip through my Diaper Factory." He grabbed Spot's paw and tossed him into an invisible elevator and hopped in after him, then pressed all the buttons with his butt while screaming at the top of his lungs. Spot had no time to be suspicious of this suspicious character, as the elevator zipped through the roof, causing the restaurant to collapse, killing all its employees (except the wheelchair guy, who was a freelancer.) As the elevator accelevated, Spot's stomach was left behind, meaning that the bite he'd taken of the Diaper Deluxe was now in his left lung. He coughed, and the elevator suddenly came to a screeching halt, causing him to swallow his own lungs. Mr. Diaper put a fluorescent purple top hat on top of his diaper, grabbed a cane, and danced out into the enormous factory, which looked like a forest only all the trees and flowers were made of ground meat. Amid the meat-trees cavorted many small, deformed creatures. "What are those?" asked Spot. "Those are the very rare and very special Diaper-Loompas, Spot. They make all my food." Spot noticed that the Diaper-Loompas looked like heads, with hands where their ears should have been and clown shoes where their necks should have been. Also they were transparent and their brains were filled with butterflies of a thousand colors, and their eyeballs had teeth. These cute critters were grabbing handfuls of ground chuck from the trees and squishing them into burger patties by sitting on them. "Wow!" said Spot. "I want a Diaper-Loompa!" But that thought was cut short as Mr. Diaper dipped Spot in the river of lard. "Sorry, Spot, but that was for your own protection." "Protection? From what?" "So you don't get stuck when you go through the entrance into the heart of my factory." Mr. Diaper waved his cane at a small door shaped like a heart valve, indicating that Spot would have to crawl through an aorta to continue the tour. "Once you're in the factory's heart you can see the secret stuff." Spot crawled through the aorta-like tunnel, bumping into cholesterol-like deposits of whatever stuff looks like cholesterol and is normally found in artificial aortas. Well, okay, it was cholesterol. Spot popped out the other end, thankful for his lard bath. Mr. Diaper joined him, entering the room through a normal door cleverly hidden in the middle of the wall, revealed only by its doorknob, hinges, and "DOOR" sign. Spot was facing a wall covered with florid writing. It appeared to be some sort of contract, but it was hard to read because the lettering was infinitely small, and got smaller towards the bottom, which was infinitely far down below the floor where he couldn't see it. He tried to read at least the first sentence, but only got as far as "I, Spot, relinquish all right to sue Mr. Dilly Diaper, owner of Diaper Burger, if I should meet a horrible fate while..." before Mr. Diaper distracted him by grabbing his paw and helping him sign it. Then a notary public made of Jell-O came in and notarized it. Now it was official--Spot was in the factory, and was no longer legally important! Mr. Diaper opened a door in the contract and they went through. They were in a corridor with some parallel stripes on the wall. "REALLY PSYCHEDELIC, ISN'T IT?" shouted Mr. Diaper, flipping a switch that made the lighting turn purplish. Spot was unimpressed, so Mr. Diaper opened another door. "Okay, Spot, we'll forget that the pathetically psychedelic corridor exists. This is where we grow the meat for my Diaper Chickenwiches." One corner of the room was dominated by a cubical cage, eighteen feet on a side, filled from bottom to top with chickens, stacked like cordwood. The ones on the bottom were squashed and deformed, but this didn't matter because several Diaper-Loompas picked up the cage and dropped it into a big blender. A grayish-brown paste came out, not unlike halvah, and the Diaper-Loompas sprayed it with Clorox bleach to make it turn a pretty shade of pure white. "You see?" said Mr. Diaper, "I bet you've always wondered what 'Mechanically Separated Chicken' in ingredients means! It's a very special definition of 'separation' where we mix lots of chickens together!" He pulled a lever and a huge velvet curtain parted to reveal a row of aquaria with what looked like blocks of Spam swimming around inside. "There are my Animal 57s. I am breeding them in hopes that someday I can eliminate the need for meat grinders by evolving a species of animal which is already ground up." Spot took a step towards the aquaria and all the featureless blocks of Spam swam towards him. He stepped back and they went back to milling around blindly. Mr. Diaper pushed Spot into a roller coaster with electrified seats, and they took a wild ride deeper into the factory. The coaster made several loops, went through a car wash that sprayed them with scalding hot wax, and then a robot arm popped out from under the seat and rubbed a cheese grater against Spot's face. Then the roller coaster exploded, dumping them in a room with vinyl walls and a floor covered with drains that made constant sucking noises. Mr. Diaper whacked Spot with his cane to be sure he was conscious. "Everybody off! This is where the Diaper-Loompas and I make the bacon for the Diaper Bacon Burger." Spot saw two huge meat grinders, for making the white and the red parts of the bacon. Diaper-Loompas were shovelling cow brains into the white grinder and bloody cow brains into the red grinder. "Aren't you worried about mad cow disease?" asked Spot. "No, Spot, there's no such thing as mad cow disease. We just made that up to make the price of cow brains go down because all food is now made from cow brains." He picked a spongiform cow brain up off the floor and tossed it into the white grinder, and then threw in a brain-shaped sponge. "These sponges come from Australia's Great Barrier Reef. I like to add ten percent sponges to the mixture because that way I never have to clean the machinery. These grinders have been running continuously since 1936. Oh, sometimes this job gets so incredibly tedious that I think I just can't stand it and will need to kill hundreds of people with my Uzi to relieve the boredom. But then I stop and take a moment to enjoy myself by making special bacon." He gestured at a shelf which held a seemingly endless row of glass jars, each containing a brain floating in a different color of formaldehyde. The first was labelled K. MARX, the second A. HITLER, the third A. T. HUN, and the fourth said U. SINCLAIR. Mr. Diaper picked up Upton Sinclair's brain and tossed it into the grinder, jar, green formaldehyde, and all. They moved along to the other side of the machine, where the raw bacon came out in a continuous strip, which was wound onto an enormous spool. When the spool filled up, the Diaper-Loompas rolled it to a workbench where Teamsters used tin snips to cut the bacon into nine-inch pieces for distribution. To ensure that it was sanitary, the Teamsters would periodically take swigs of Listerine and then spit it on the bacon. "Wow!" said Spot. "I had no idea making bacon was so hygenic!" Then Mr. Diaper dipped him in a pool filled with wingless bees. "Ow! Those tickle! I mean, those sting!" Before his legs could swell up from the bee venom, Spot followed Mr. Diaper into the next room. Mr. Diaper used tongs to hold up what appeared to be a slice of toast. "This, Spot, is my masterpiece. It looks like a piece of toast, but it actually tastes like an entire breakfast when you eat it! It's never been tested. Here, eat some!" He gave it to Spot while using his other hand to cover up the small sign which said "DANGER: EXPERIMENTAL FOOD: DO NOT EAT." Spot bit into it, and then foam came out of one side of his mouth, and blood came out of the other. His eyes began to revolve around different axes. "Mmm, tastes like toast!" said Spot. "It's like bread but crispy! And, wow, it tastes like a pat of margarine too! And I taste grapes and sugar mixed together... grape jelly! I can feel it running down my throat! Toast and margarine and jelly! This is truly a complete breakfast! Mmm, grape jelly! Hey, my paws are turning purple!" "Oh dear," said Mr. Diaper without emotion, "help... fire... police... yawn. Please... don't... stop...." Spot's continued eating the toast, then his head turned purple too, and he sprouted twenty more heads. "Waah! I'm a bunch of stupid grapes!" "Shut up!" yelled one of his other heads. "You think you got it bad... you're the tip grape! I'm in the middle!" "You've turned into giant grapes! I need to get you to the juicing room fast!" shouted Mr. Diaper. "Otherwise you could explode!" He blew a special whistle that only Diaper-Loompas could hear, and two of them carried Spot off. Unfortunately, on the way to the juicing room, they ate him. Then they turned into giant, but stupid, dogs. THE END NO ANIMAL 57S WERE HARMED DURING THE MAKING OF THIS STORY. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Whatcha got in the trunk? continues. Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 23:43:44 -0400 Lots42 (lots42@gmail.com) wrote: > > barbara@bookpro.com wrote: > > > > Lots42 (lots42@gmail.com) wrote: > > > > > > I like gay guys. HAW HAW U LIKE GAY GUYS !!!!1 (Better than you like straight guys, or just better than you like women?) > > Next up: Lots42 tells us, "Some of my best friends are gay guys." > > Not really. Not since he had a huge drama queen snit because we didn't > backup him in his outright lie against a third party. True story. > Stupid bastard. Well, he shouldn't go around trying to tell people he's friends with a straight guy named Lots42 if you can't keep up the act. > > > Their existence means less competition for the straight women > > > > No, as a straight women, I can tell you that the existence of gay guys > > does not diminish the competition we experience. Exactly. Lots42, you need to know that the moment you tell your female friends you're gay, they'll all want to sleep with you. Believe me, being gay is the best way to get chicks! You'll have to scrape 'em off with a spatula. > > Now ask KevinS to explain what you did wrong. > > Besides not kissing his feet? Shouldn't you finish cleaning my boots first? -- K. Remember, the back of the tongue has the most scrubbing buds. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Whatcha got in the trunk? continues. Date: Thu, 28 Jul 2005 00:00:05 -0400 Lots42 (lots42@gmail.com) wrote: > > barbara@bookpro.com wrote: > > > > But that's his major accomplishment--attaining the status of old fart > > at such a young age. > > > > It is exciting to see how he will build on his success. His attempt to > > be a fussy closeted homosexual old fart a few months back was quite > > good, > > I am not homosexual. Hey, stop plagiarizing stuff I said a few years ago. Anyway, the important thing is that people who are in the closet are funny. That's why Conan O'Brien does all those "Blah blah blah Clay Aiken blah blah blah totally faggy!" and "Blah blah blah Richard Simmons blah blah blah so queer!" jokes, because for some reason it's not funny to call Harvey Fierstein gay. If Conan ever tried that, the entire audience would yell in unison, "BECAUSE HE'S THE GAYEST PERSON EVER, THAT'S NOT FUNNY, EVEN THOUGH HE HAS A CRAZY CARTOON VOICE THAT SHOULD BE A ROBOT ON 'FUTURAMA'!" It's only funny to pick on straight people who aren't actually gay. That's why I try not to tease you very often. (Believe me, I fight down the urge hundreds of times a day.) Anyway, gay, straight, whatever, we all still love you. And by that I just mean simple platonic love, not the kind that dare not show its pirate hat in public. By the way, how come they haven't made ninjas gay the way they made all pirates and superheroes gay? Seems like ninjas should be allowed to all be gay. After all, we know all samurai are gay (if you don't believe me, see Nagisa Oshima's movie "Taboo") so I bet the ninjas would know how to have a wildly gay ol' time, and besides, come on, those throwing stars are such a giveaway. To say nothing of tabi socks. -- K. If a ninja wears regular socks under his tabi boots, he hops around screaming "AAAAAIIIIEEEE FOOT WEDGIE!" which isn't good for stealth. So real ninjas never wore socks because they hadn't yet discovered they could buy tabi socks on Amazon.com. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Shortest comment ever? Date: Fri, 15 Jul 2005 22:14:40 -0400 [news.scotsman.com] -> -> UNITED States interrogators at Guantanamo Bay subjected -> a suspected terrorist to abusive and degrading treatment, -> forcing him to wear a bra, dance with another man and -> behave like a dog, military investigators said yesterday. Wait... dogs don't wear bras! -- K. Fucking Harry Potter. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Shaken...but otherwise okay Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 10:40:06 -0400 Tamara (tamaraharris@rogers-removethis-.com) wrote: > > [...] > > Nothing was stolen. Nothing was damaged except for the window screen. It > appears that we walked in on the guy shortly after he broke in. Had we not > stopped for coffee after the film, all of this may have been averted. Or > maybe not. Maybe it would have just happened while I was sitting there in > the living room watching teevee. That's what you get for living in Toronto. Have you considered moving to Canada? In Canada, there is no crime. I hear the police don't even have to carry guns, which is good because there's no good place to keep a gun when you're riding a moose. > I'm doing my best to avoid thinking about the "what ifs". It happened. > We got through it. We're going to be fine. I'm glad you're okay, but I can't help thinking about the "what ifs". Like, what if Superman was richer than Batman? Would he still bother using his super powers, or would he just do like Batman and spend his money on Bat-Criminal-Catching-Spray and other utility-belt cheats? Also, what if Superman rode a moose? And what if a moose was the same as a mouse? And what if Superman broke into your apartment and then you beat him to death with a Kryptonite baseball bat? And what if there's no store around here where I can buy Kryptonite baseball bats? I suddenly want to buy one. That Superman thinks he can do whatever he wants and I'm gonna show him. > Sonia used to have imaginary people breaking in to her apartment all the > time. Man, she'd crap a doozy if she were still living here now! Maybe for old times' sake you should track her down and re-enact the day's events for her. -- K. Have you considered moving to a country that doesn't have crazy people like Sonia, such as Canada? In Canada everyone's so sane it hurts. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Village People in the news Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 11:24:37 -0400 [news.yahoo.com] -> -> Village People Cop Busted -> -> By Sarah Hall -> -> It may be fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A, but spending time in j-a-i-l -> is likely no walk in the park, even for a macho man. It depends on how much time you can kill debating the relative merits of spelling out things with hyphens between lowercase letters or periods between capital letters. Me, I use asterisks. -> Victor Edward Willis, the original policeman and lead singer from -> the Village People, had a chance to find out firsthand this week -> after he was arrested when police discovered a gun and drugs in -> his car during a traffic stop in Daly City, California. -> -> Willis was was arrested late Monday after police turned up a -> loaded .45, crack cocaine and drug paraphernalia while searching -> his convertible Corvette. -> -> Though it was not clear what prompted the traffic stop, Science cannot understand what causes cops to stop black men driving expensive sports cars! -> it turned out that Willis was wanted on a $15,000 felony warrant -> for possession of narcotics, which prompted his arrest and the -> search of his car. -> -> The former Village Person did not have a valid driver's license or -> any form of identification Not even an album cover with his head circled? -> and initially tried to lie to police about his name and address, -> before switching tactics and informing them that he was a founding -> member of the over-the-top disco band, police said. And then the violent beatdown ensued. I mean, come on, I can't imagine cops anywhere treating you nicer once they find out you were partly responsible for the disco craze. -> Apparently the authorities weren't impressed by his star power. -> Willis was booked into San Mateo County jail on suspicion of six -> felony counts, including driving with a suspended license, -> possession of a firearm and transporting cocaine. -> -> When police searched the "Macho Man" singer's home at the -> Franciscan Mobile Home Park in Daly City, they found cocaine -> residue, more drug paraphernalia and two pit bulls locked in -> the bedroom. At last science has answered the question, "How many pit bulls does it take to fill a mobile home?" -> On Tuesday, Willis posted $100,000 bail and was released. -> -> The fallen disco star is scheduled to be arraigned Aug.16. He was -> previously convicted of possessing drugs in 1990 and was acquitted -> of rape in 1993. Also aiding and abetting a fake band. -> As the lead singer for the Village People when the band formed in -> 1977, Willis cowrote the band's biggest hits, including "Y.M.C.A," -> "Macho Man" and "In the Navy," but left the band in 1979, shortly -> before the shooting started on the group's film, Can't Stop the Music. Those three were their biggest hits, and their other hits were... Um... oh... Well, I know they did record at least one other song, because there were four songs on their first album... Hmm... I'll have to think about this. -> The band, made up of the Cop, the Native American (Felipe Rose), -> the Soldier (Alex Briley), the Construction Worker (David Hodo), -> the Cowboy (Jeff Briley) and the Biker (Eric Anzalone), took its -> inspiration from icons of social groups indigenous to New York's -> Greenwich Village, according to the official Village People -> Website. I don't know where to begin with what's wrong with that sentence. Still, it's nice to know that Native Americans are indigenous to Greenwich Village. I was going to complain that the sentence fails to mention Glenn Hughes, but I can think of lots of other sentences that need more Glenn Hughes. It's a common problem. Everyone knows that anything you read in a fortune cookie can be improved by adding Glenn Hughes. -> After Willis left, he was replaced in the Cop role by Ray Simpson, -> who remains the band's lead singer today. I'm not really familiar with the All-New Original Reconstituted Substitute Village People or whatever the band is called now, but back in the day, I would say "lead singer" was kind of a moot title when the group consisted of one person who could sing, one person who could dance, and four others who were the right height to stand next to them. I can do that, too. This proves that they weren't a very good band. There aren't really any other bands I'm qualified to be in. That makes me sad. There should be more fake bands so that I can feel like my untalentedness is a valuable commodity. Just think, had I been in the right place at the right time, that might be me, not singing, not dancing, and not playing an instrument behind Bruce Jenner in "Can't Stop The Music". Hmm, I wonder how many terriers that would lead to me owning. (Pit bull terriers are ugly, they'd have to be Jack Russell terriers. Jack Russells are cute, and why go to the trouble of having an ugly dog?) And how come we never hear about Josie And The Pussycats or The Jolly Green Giants getting arrested for smoking crack? (The Brady Six did get arrested for smoking crack last week, but five of them got off scot-free when Cindy tattled on it being all Jan's fault.) -- K. They still haven't found Cousin Oliver's meth lab. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Village People in the news Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 22:47:38 -0400 Gobleteer (gobleteer@cwazy.co.uk) wrote: > > James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) wrote: > > > > I was going to complain that the sentence fails to mention Glenn Hughes, > > but I can think of lots of other sentences that need more Glenn Hughes. > > It's a common problem. Everyone knows that anything you read in a > > fortune cookie can be improved by adding Glenn Hughes. > > This is also true of the pope. Switch "the pope" in for almost anything. > Try it. I don't know, I don't think he'd have what it would take to replace Glenn Hughes. Maybe he could replace the original cowboy (Randy), but he'd still need a bunch of plastic surgery to have that weird polyhedral face. If I ever accidentally travel back in time and then accidentally become one of the Village People, I'm not sure whether I want to be the octahedron or the dodecahedron. Maybe I'd even be the rhombic tricontahedron if they pay by the side. But one thing's for sure, I ain't no snub cube. -- K. Don't even mention the word "gyrobifastigium". ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Village People in the news Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 13:28:38 -0400 Jeremy D. Impson (jdimpson@acm.spam.org) wrote: > > James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) wrote: > > > > (Pit bull terriers are ugly, they'd have to be Jack Russell terriers. > > Jack Russells are cute, and why go to the trouble of having an ugly dog?) > > Because Pit Bulls are generally considered less destructive than JRTs. So? Pets are supposed to be destructive. If you want a dog who's not destructive, get a cat. And if you want a cat who's not destructive, get a turtle. Pit bulls just have a creepy ugly look to them, while Jack Russells are adorable. There's no point to owning an ugly dog -- it's even worse than those people who choose to have ugly children. How can people stoop to having ugly children? Haven't they heard of prenatal cosmetic surgery? Facelifts should begin at conception! -- K. They should find a way to cross Jack Russells with children to get cute children. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: happy birthday to Our Holy Atomic Mother Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 18:03:19 -0400 Talysman the Ur-Beatle (talysman@gmail.com) wrote: > > today, June 16th, is the 60th anniversary of the Trinity atomic tests, > when the very first atomic bomb was explodiated. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ATOM > BOMB! ALL HAIL THE AGE OF THE NEW FLESH! > > no, wait... > > let me tell you, I'd be watching "Beneath the Planet of the Apes" RITE > NOW, IYKWIM, if I had a copy, or if stupid Blockbuster would allow me > to rent videos. because, I could use me some bald telepathic > mutant-on-mutant action right about now, especially if there are some > gorllas with carbines gunnin' 'em down. Big deal. I'm about to celebrate Exploding Day by watching the second prequel to "Ichi The Killer" -- the live-action prequel, not the animated prequel -- and then I'm going to detonate an atomic bomb and then I'm going to watch some other movie where people die, things blow up, or Shatner acts. With luck the atomic bomb will be the least violent part of my day. Also it's not really an atomic bomb, it's just a 3000-watt light bulb, and I'm not going to blow it up, I'm just going to plug it in and go blind. But it is shaped like a bomb and was made by General Electric, so it must be a munition of some sort. (The odd part is that it's 110-volt, not 220-volt, so it must have been intended for home use. I wonder if there's some sort of giant lampshade I can buy for this monster bulb?) To further enhance its bomb-like quality, this light bulb warns me it will "BURN BASE UP." > this is another bad thing about the current future: not only do we not > have flying cars, we don't have radiation-scarred bomb-worshipping > mutants. it looked so promising at first, what with all the > nuclear-themed populux drive-ins they showed us in "Atomic Cafe". but > somewhere along the line, things went wrong, and all we got were > fundamentalist end-timers. Not An Acceptable Substitute For Mutants! Also I can't find the loose electrical cord I was going to attach to a pair of alligator clamps so maybe I won't be able to light up my megabulb today. (This is not some wimpy little "mogul base" bulb, its contacts are two metal posts four inches apart. They're the diameter of Slim Jims.) Come to think of it, this could be some alien form of processed meat -- the electrodes are Slim Jims and the bulb itself is the shape and size of a stubby salami. It's a meatbulb torpedo! http://www.kibo.com/pix/2005_07_big_bulb_9555.jpg Anyone know what the specific application of this bulb is supposed to be? (Stadium light? Space shuttle landing light? The light at the back of Kirstie Alley's fridge?) > mutants would have been a Good Thing not only because the theological > arguments with bomb-worshippers would be pretty interesting, but also > because I'm sure some of the mutants would dress up in tights and stage > fantastic battles in Times Square. instead, we get hookers. What do you mean by "get"? Do you mean we understand hookers, or do we shoot hookers, or do we mail-order hookers? 'Cause some of those would be wrong. > I hope everyone has a happy bomb-worshipping weekend. ALL HAIL "DUNGEONS & DRAGONS: THE MOVIE"! No, wait. If that movie ever became our evil overlord we would just demand our money back and then it would sulk off to go pretend it was going to make make sequels. ALL HAIL THE LUMINOUS MULTI-KILOWATT MEATBULB! -- K. Now, it's movie time. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: happy birthday to Our Holy Atomic Mother Date: Sun, 17 Jul 2005 08:22:16 -0400 Bruno VeSota (vesota@yahoo.com) wrote: > > James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) wrote: > > > > Also it's not really an atomic bomb, it's just a 3000-watt light bulb, > > and I'm not going to blow it up, I'm just going to plug it in and go > > blind. But it is shaped like a bomb and was made by General Electric, > > so it must be a munition of some sort. (The odd part is that it's > > 110-volt, not 220-volt, so it must have been intended for home use. > > I wonder if there's some sort of giant lampshade I can buy for this > > monster bulb?) > > You puttin' a penny in ya fusebox dere? Hey, it's only a 30-amp bulb. If I wanted to make trouble I'd plug in my 30-amp, 110-volt spot welder and flush the toilets at the same time. If I wanted to melt a penny, I'd just use a blowtorch. The fun thing about pennies is that they have a low enough melting point that you can put a piece of some metal with a higher melting point (such as silver) on top of the penny and then heat it with your torch and watch the solid piece of silver sink into the penny. You can make pennies with funny things embedded in them. I don't know what happens if you then leave one of these on the railroad tracks, especially if you first hook the tracks up to the spot-welder so that the train gets welded in place like those MIT students are rumored to have done after they rerouted the Red Line tracks to go through some guy's dorm room. -- K. I did try hooking the big bulb up to a Tesla coil but it hardly did anything compared to most other bulbs. So no Uncle Fester tricks with it. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: happy birthday to Our Holy Atomic Mother Date: Sun, 17 Jul 2005 08:15:34 -0400 Nicko (duh.nicko@kriho.com) wrote: > > James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) wrote: > > > > Big deal. I'm about to celebrate Exploding Day by watching the > > second prequel to "Ichi The Killer" > > Big deal. > > I spent the day and night with the most wonderful woman I have ever > recently known. Nicko, Mrs. Butterworth isn't real. Furthermore, when someone has sex with a bottle of her, _she_ doesn't go around bragging about it. I would recount the interesting lucid dream I had this morning after watching "1-Ichi" but it was psychologically significant so I'll just say it was a lot of fun. Plus, the dream really should have come after "Episode 0" not "1-Ichi". I suppose that's okay because maybe the dream will turn out to be the third part of something I'm watching out of sequence because they always make the third movie in a series self-contained so that it makes perfect sense when you watch it by itself like "Exorcist Part 3" or "Let's Ride The Pervert Train Part 3". Is there really a Japanese movie called "Let's Ride The Pervert Train Part 3", or even "Part 1"? Does it involve whatever the Japanese word for frottage is, or that inventor who rode the bullet train with the inflatable underwear that went off at the wrong time, or just those guys who have to shove people into the tiny little trains while wearing Mickey Mouse gloves? An IMDB search for "Pervert Train" caused it to tell me to just go watch "Perfect Strangers" reruns, and I don't even want to think about Balki riding the Pervert Train with Mrs. Butterworth. "Balki, you got pancake syrup all over my sudoku!" -- K. I forget, was it Lenny or Squiggy on "Laverne & Shirley" who was said to do unspecified perverted things with bottles of honey? ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: What's a cube steak? Date: Sun, 17 Jul 2005 08:04:37 -0400 Paula (mmmtoblerone@earthlink.ent) wrote: > > barbara@bookpro.com wrote: > > > > My parents used to buy a side of beef (known in our house as "half a > > cow") periodically. They had a big freezer and stuffed it full of > > various cuts of meat. Then one time, they went on vacation for a > > couple of weeks, during which time the freezer broke down. They came > > home to a stinky house and a stinky, messy freezer half full of > > rotting beef. > > You just reminded me of when we got the rental freezer at the butcher > place. We had a separate freezer that died. We were home, so it > didn't all rot while we were away or anything, but it was a real pain > to pack up all that beef and take it down to the freezer rental place. > Eventually she got another freezer and we stopped renting the freezer > in the huge cold room. I remember the day we were transferring stuff > we had to keep the freezer door closed as much as possible and we were > packing our cooler boxes and going to the freezer place to unload them > and heading home to pack some more... How could I have forgotten that > part of the story? Even more important, WHY THE HELL DID YOU HAVE TO > REMIND ME OF IT?! Lucy, there's no need to get mad at Ethel. The important thing is that the two of you should gang up on Ricky and Fred and disguise yourselves as men to infiltrate their Women-Haters Club. Lucy, you be an Arab sheik, and Ethel, you be a billionaire railroad tycoon. It'll serve those men right for making you return that new hat to the store! I'll be right back as soon as you get locked in the freezer. -- K. Bobby Brady can't save you now! ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Violence in sports has now infected Pee-Wee Tee-Ball Date: Sun, 17 Jul 2005 09:48:12 -0400 [msn.foxsports.com] -> -> Report: Coach paid player to harm disabled boy -> Associated Press -> -> PITTSBURGH (AP) -- A T-ball coach allegedly paid one of his -> players $25 to hurt an 8-year-old mentally disabled teammate so -> he wouldn't have to put the boy in the game, police said Friday. Hooray! At last we have discovered a new level of sleaziness for child abusers! All the other child abusers are hyar -----------> But this guy is down hyar ------------------- ^ \ | \ SOME DISTANCE \ | \ v -------------------> -> Mark R. Downs Jr., 27, of Dunbar, is accused of offering one of -> his players the money to hit the boy in the head with a -> baseball, police said. Witnesses told police Downs didn't want -> the boy to play in the game because of his disability. A more sensible solution would have been to just slip the kid some steroids. -> Police said the boy was hit in the head and in the groin with a -> baseball just before a game, and didn't play, police said. However, he then changed into a motorcycle racing suit with a luminous "1" on the back and left the slaughtered corpses of the team strewn around the baseball field, and then this guy came at him with a six-foot-long hypodermic filled with all of the world's deadliest poisons plus some magical herbs to make him immortal so that he could be in agony forever, but the poison just made his head tilt to one side and a firehose full of blood squirt out of the other side of his neck, and then razor blades popped out of his -- but perhaps I have seen too many Japanese movies. -> "The coach was very competitive," state police Trooper Thomas B. -> Broadwater said. "He wanted to win." What sort of trophy do they give you for coaching a winning T-ball team? I assume that, unlike a regular trophy that you can hold over your head, it's mounted on some sort of post that keeps it at eye level. -> Downs has an unpublished telephone number and couldn't -> immediately be reached for comment Friday. It was unclear -> whether he had an attorney. LAWYERS OF THE WORLD, START DIALING!!! -> He was arrested and arraigned Friday on charges including -> criminal solicitation to commit aggravated assault and -> corruption of minors. He was released from jail on an -> unsecured bond. What's an unsecured bond? Is that like a rope that's not tied tight? -> [...] -> -> League organizers investigated accusations against Downs before -> the T-ball season ended earlier this month but could not prove -> that he did anything wrong. If Downs is convicted of any crime, -> he won't be allowed to be a coach next year, Forsythe said. The -> league is not affiliated with Little League International. But is it affiliated with Crotchball Whammo International? -- K. I've already got the uniforms designed. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Medical question Date: Mon, 18 Jul 2005 11:59:15 -0400 Rose Marie Holt (rmholt1@mindspring.com) wrote: > > So yesterday I got so tired I couldnt drive all the way home. So I > stopped at McDonald's for a lard meal, some OJ and coffee. Still barely > made it home. Took a sleeping pill and a Klonopin. Laid there for > awhile. Decided my side still hurt and took one, then another Vicodin. > Laid there for a while. Had a beer and two Xanax plus another Klonopin. > Watched SNL Christopher Walken for awhile. Is it true that if you take a sleeping pill and a K and a V and two X and another K that it's almost enough drugs to make the current season of "saturdaynightlive" more entertaining than staring at a piece of blank graph paper? Also, I hate to tell you this, but McDonalds doesn't put real lard in their Happy Meals any more. If you want lard, you'll have to go to Krispy Kreme. Remember Krispy Kreme? Everybody was talking about them three years ago before everyone forgot about them. I wonder if they're still in business? > Finally gave up, went to bed at the regular time and slept a normal 8 > hours. Woke up perky and even did some yard work. Got a giant algae > thrombus out of the pond pipes BEWARE THE GIANT ALGAE RHOMBUS! "Aaaaaiiieeee! All four sides of the algae are equal in length and opposite sides of the algae are parallel but without being able to find a right angle there's no way to kill this algae with my T-square!" > and splashed in another dose of algae killer (after the first dose, > the water became so clear that the remaining algae could be seen to > the bottom of the pond) > > It is extremely weird to be laying there, so sleepy I cant stand it, > and unable to fall asleep. That's the Sudafed talking. Either that or you drank too much algae killer. > I guess this is more of a tale than a question. If you still can't sleep, look for a recent episode of "saturdaynightlive". -- K. And if you want to see Christopher Walken being really funny, put on "Clutch Cargo" and ask Walken where he hid the watch. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Fast Food Fish Bacon Date: Mon, 18 Jul 2005 12:21:13 -0400 Lots42 (lots42@gmail.com) wrote: > > So I ordered some fish sandwhiches from the local fast food joint. > > They asked if I wanted bacon on it. > > I declined. > > This worried me. It worries me, too, that you would decline the offer of perfectly good free bacon. Have you had a checkup lately? You should get this looked into, because if you're turning down bacon, I don't know what's next, like maybe you'll start eating roofing shingles or wearing your plastic pirate hat backwards to be cool. Maybe you'll even become one of those weirdos who eats scallops without wrapping them in bacon. > Bacon, on fish? Surely, they must have mis-heard my order. So when I > pulled up, I asked for them to re-confirm. I explained that I was > confused because they offered to put bacon on my fish sandwhiches. > > The nice employee explained that many people enjoy bacon on fish > sandwhiches. You see, normal humans enjoy bacon more than anything else, which is why bacon is good on everything. It's good on a sandwich, it's good on a Friday, it's good on TV, it's good on an open wound, it's good on a court-martial board. > Dear World: > > Stop being weird. > > Love, me. Dear Lots42, No. We love bacon. And in a choice between bacon and you, we're going to side with the bacon. Sincerely, everyone else in the Universe, officially notarized. Signatures available upon request, in exchange for bacon. Give us bacon. -- K. Bacon is the candy of meats. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Lazon cube! Date: Tue, 19 Jul 2005 00:01:22 -0400 According to Google, I am the only person anywhere on the entire Internet to have ever used the phrase "lazon cube". Which means that apparently I am the last living soul to remember "The Galaxy Trio" on "Hanna-Barbera's World Of Super Adventures" and their knockoff of "Star Trek"'s Transporter which was known as "the lazon cube" even though it was a triangle. Thus, due to my demonstrably superior knowledge of crappy old cartoons, I hereby declare that I WIN! Also, I now have 100% ownership of the phrase "lazon cube". So, nobody say "lazon cube". That phrase is all mine. Lazon cube, lazon cube, lazon cube. Lazon cube! Hey Hanna, hey Barbera, I've got your catch-phrase right here! MINE MINE MINE! Hey Alex Toth, it's my lazon cube now! LAZON CUBE LAZON CUBE LAZON CUBE! MIIIINE! -- K. Someone else can call dibs on the phrase "poorly-drawn two- dimensional triangle". ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: I'm currently very busy upgrading my imaginary supermarket. Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 21:25:21 -0400 From the press release on Burger King's icky "new" elongated chicken nuggoids: -> The thin strips of juicy whole muscle chicken breast are coated -> with zesty, seasoned batter and are served in a distinctive portable -> container with a built-in well for dipping sauce. Burger King -> Corporation specially designed the packaging for consumers' hectic, -> on-the-go lifestyles. Yeah, well, MY supermarket sells Chicken Fries in a NON-portable container to make it impossible to spill them! The container is a hole drilled into the top of Abraham Lincon's head on Mount Rushmore. It's patriotically delicious to eat chicken extroots from Honest Abe's fontanelle! Incidentally, Lamb-Weston (who stamp out all the sugar-blasted fast food french fries in the world) have been making "chicken fries" for years, and KFC was selling them in Canada when I visited Edmonton a few years ago. Also I call dibs on requiring everyone else in the Universe to use my new words "nuggoids" and "extroots" every day. -- K. Also, "meatwiglets". That's a good word for discussing either meat twigs or meat wigs, and if you see a small tree branch with a curly sandwich steak draped over it you can use it in both senses at the same time. Whatever word you use for your "chicken fries", don't forget that they're the first fried chicken that can poke your eyes out just like a real chicken. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: CourtTV's Hell's Angels fashion review Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 22:12:44 -0400 [www.courttv.com] -> -> Hells Angels linked to fatal casino brawl move to have all -> charges dismissed -> -> By Chris O'Connell Court TV -> -> LAS VEGAS -- Lawyers for seven members of the Hells Angels -> motorcycle gang charged with three counts of murder and 49 other -> crimes related to an April 2002 brawl at Harrah's Casino in -> Laughlin, Nev., will argue Monday to have all charges against -> their clients dropped. And why is this news? It's just the sort of thing any competent lawyer should be doing in any trial. I mean, why would it even be worth showing up in court if you didn't want to get the charges dismissed by any loophole necessary? -> [...] -> -> Dressed in outfits ranging from corporate casual to jeans to -> Hawaiian shirts, none of the defendants wore their biker vests -> or club patches to court Thursday -- although Leedom donned a -> belt that read "Hells Angels." All's I know is that if a Hell's Angel is wearing it, it's not "corporate casual". If someone else were wearing the same clothes, they might be "corporate casual". But the fact that the clothes are on a Hell's Angel makes the clothes either much cooler than or much less cool than "corporate casual", depending on whether you're the sort of person who might ever wear "corporate casual", whatever the hell that is this week. I think what the writer meant to write was, "Hell's Angels don't wear neckties." But that would never get printed because no respectable magazine would dare admit the Hell's Angels are too smart to wear stupid neckties. Why do neckties still exist? (I haven't worn a necktie in, oh, I dunno, how many years has it been since the 1980's?) Still, this article was the most important fashion news I read on the CourtTV site today. Maybe the writer should look into whether the Hell's Angels fight with the Mongols was just their attempt to give them an extreme makeover. I hope there will be many more CourtTV articles on Hell's Angels couture, especially if there are any where the writer complains that it's not easy enough to be scared of them when they're dressed like Jerry Seinfeld. Though personally, I think the real story should be that people should be more scared of Jerry Seinfeld -- whether or not his belt has words on it. -> Defense attorney David Chesnof asked the court Friday to allow -> the Hells Angels to wear their club vests and patches during the -> trial. -> -> "We believe they have a First Amendment right to dress as they -> want," he said. That's a valid argument, and I plan to use it if I'm ever tried for public nudity. -> District Judge Michael Cherry avoided making a ruling on the -> matter, but expressed his desire to keep a sense of decorum in -> the courtroom. -> -> "It's 120 degrees outside. I can't imagine someone wearing a -> coat," Cherry said. "I don't want to make this a circus." ...then he hiked up his long black dress, and looked out the window at the eight circus-themed casinos next to the courthouse. Just 'cause the judge is wearing a dress doesn't mean he gets to be Mommy and tell people whether or not they're cold. "You're cold, put on a sweater or I'll cite you for contempt of court and sass-mouth. I'll send you to jail and also ground you." Surely our justice system can withstand people wearing clothes with words on them saying which groups they belong to, unless this is a trial based on the secret "Ssh! Don't let the jury know these Hell's Angels are members of the Hell's Angels!" system. If I were the judge, the Hell's Angels would get to dress however the fuck they wanted, 'cause I wouldn't be wearin' no black ballgown. Neither judges nor anyone else in Renaissance-inspired garb should be telling anyone how to dress. I DEMAND MY RIGHT TO DRESS AS A 29TH-CENTURY TIMECOP WHEN I VISIT THE RENAISSANCE FESTIVAL! Men in sateen Nostradamus gowns are almost as silly as reporters who take notes on what type of belts people in court are wearing. -> Six Mongols are facing identical charges for their role in the -> riot and were originally set stand trial next to the Hells -> Angels, but a judge separated the two cases. The Mongols trial -> is scheduled to begin in February 2006. But will Bluto ever stand trial for wrecking their homecoming float? -- K. I still don't understand why Renaissance festivals usually have a "no all-leather costumes" rule. It's a mystery why that rule exists, as all it does is keep me out. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: CourtTV's Hell's Angels fashion review Date: Thu, 28 Jul 2005 00:33:45 -0400 Paula (mmmtoblerone@earthlink.ent) wrote: > > James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) wrote: > > > > Just 'cause the judge is wearing a dress doesn't mean he gets > > to be Mommy and tell people whether or not they're cold. "You're > > cold, put on a sweater or I'll cite you for contempt of court and > > sass-mouth. I'll send you to jail and also ground you." > > You haven't spent much time around judges, have you? I've been around them enough to know they all wear dresses. That's one of the many reasons I could never take Wapner seriously. That and the fact that he was more tightly-wound than the rubber band in Pee-wee's spinning bow tie. > > If I were the judge, the Hell's Angels would get to dress however > > the fuck they wanted, 'cause I wouldn't be wearin' no black ballgown. > > And this is why you will never be a judge. Lack of a law degree may > also be a factor. I beg to differ. I have already been a judge. I even signed the prize certificates. -- K. Sadly, my role as judge disqualified me from competing. I forget which kid's cartoon won. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Terrible Secrets of Space Redux Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 23:04:03 -0400 Last week, Vapolluan (hpappas7@comcast.net) wrote: > > This is the second time posting this , I tried finding the post on > several different computers. It hasnt appeared after 6 hours. > Going back to the beginning of the adventure.... > I arrived at the airport and called STD to see if I could reach > Kibo.The very nice person that answered said he was not in, Yes, well, that's because I got laid off. Last year. > but he would send Kibo an e-mail mentioning that I was looking for him. > Nothing happened. Hi, Leo. Sorry I've been too busy to keep up with stuff lately, but I've been doing it JUST TO AVOID YOU. > I then dragged my friend, a lawyer from Atlanta , to the STD address I > found on an old usenet post, 1330 Beacon street or something like > that.After a 20 dollar cab ride, we arrived to discover that STD has > not been in that building for a long time. Yes, they closed the office a while after I got laid off. Last year. > I did not check my facts before posting my nonsense.I then called > the same gentleman I spoke with when I first arrived (after finding out > that 411 gave me 3 addresses for STD)and asked him where the heck > STD was. He gave me a certain address and we headed that way. My > lawyer friend, George, said "you must really love this guy to go > through all this effort"-I did not feel like getting into the > intricate subjects of "lurve", "happynet", and "you're allowed." Go ahead, ask me what love _really_ is. I dare you. > I told him to shut up and deal with it. I reached the address and found > myself in a neighborhood with absolutely no business type buildings, > just houses. I again called the person I talked to before, asking what > the the deal was, where is STD? He answered "is that you out front in > the cab?" I said yes, and he said come to the door, he would come out > and receive the gift. Hmmm. I gave him the additive , and I left happy, > having delivered the super hot food additive to someone that sees Kibo > from time to time. I then began to wonder.. > 1)Kibo runs a bunch of safehouses > 2)He helps find people in the witness protection program places to > live. > 3)He has the luxury of working whenever he feels like it. All three were true, at least until I got laid off. Last year. I'll pick up the bottle of capsaicin whenever they hire me back. > Obviously the third option was most likely, and we left after > delivering the package . I posted this early this morning and it didnt > show up on several of my friends laptops, the hotel computers(if you > can call web TV a computer). Probably just a glitch, but I contacted > google about this, and I will get back to them in a couple of days. While you're at it, ask Google to dig up any posts I've made in the past year where I pretended to be still employed at that office that's now been converted into a carpet-sample showroom or something. I don't even know whether the evil psychiatrist with the fluorescent-barf- colored "treatment" rooms is still in that building. > Sooo..that is the little story that at least had a partially decent > ending. The post not showing up at all many hours after I posted it is > what turned a perfect ending into a partially decent ending. > > Leo "forgot to check his facts before posting nonsense to UNSENET" > Sgouros By the way, have I mentioned I haven't worked for ST&D in almost a year? Well, at least I hope you got to meet Tom Kraemer when you were there. -- K. Did you at least say you were Archimedes Plutonium when you rang the doorbell? ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: If you can't send all the workload to India Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 23:08:41 -0400 Glenn Knickerbocker (NotR@bestweb.net) wrote: > > We're having new carpet installed that's a fairly tolerable mishmash of > yellow, black, white, dark blue, and light aqua, with big squares of a > kind of teal-grey at the intersections of the hallways. Now they're > starting to paint the hallway walls--some reasonable color, possibly? > No, it's a frightening terracotta color they call something like "antique > copper." Oh, and it's next to bright blue columns. There's only one thing to do with any carpet decorated with big squares -- number them with some sort of permanent fabric paint and start bouncing a kickball around until either the carpet gets fired or you do. > I guess if they can't send all our work to India they decided we need to > have a little of India brought to us. I'd rather send out for the #3 vindaloo, provided there's some sort of Styrofoam cup they can pack it in that won't get dissolved. -- K. I still want there to be more availability of pork vindaloo. ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: And now for some comic relief... Date: Thu, 28 Jul 2005 00:11:56 -0400 Tamara (tamaraharris@rogers-removethis-.com) wrote: > > I attended a funeral service the other day and had to make my way there and > back via public transit. With not much else to do, I people-watched while > waiting for a connecting train. There was this one guy who was wearing a > muscle shirt (prolly about 4 sizes too small) and he was leaning against a > wall inside the subway station. He had a teeny-tiny new-fangled > cell phone with him that he kept looking at every few seconds. He knew and > I knew that there was no reception down in that subway station. It was > pretty obvious that he was using the "Let me just check my cell phone" > routine to give him an excuse to flex. Actually, I was watching > him closely...every time he went to check the phone, his pecs flexed and he > watched them flex with much admiration. I never once saw him actually > look at the *phone.* I never look at my cell phone either. Does this mean I also have admirable muscles? Or does it only work if I actually get a cell phone? I want to have muscles, but not if I have to get a cell phone. > He was about 6'2"...bottle-blond hair slicked back in a greasy wave of > sorts. I already mentioned the muscle-shirt one too many times. And > painted-on jeans. > > [...] > > Then, super-dude turned slightly and lo n' behold... > > He had a tattoo of *himself* on his left upper arm. Slicked-back hair > and posing in a muscle shirt. Now what would have been the most awesome mindfuck ever would be if you had rolled up your sleeve and showed him a 50% bigger tattoo of him, above a happy little word-ribbon: _______________ ___| L O S E R |___ \ \_______________/ / /___\/ \/___\ -- K. Remember how, in the olden days, whenever someone wrote a book, they had to write it on a ten-mile ribbon with weird dimpled ends? ----------------------------------------------------- From: James "Kibo" Parry (kibo@world.std.com) Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology Subject: Re: Oh My Lordy its Sooooo Hot Outside Date: Thu, 28 Jul 2005 00:25:41 -0400 Mr. Pope John Hole III (holefamily1@webtv.net) wrote: > > WORST SUMMER EVER. > > The Moon looked like a big ball of lava as it ascended this evening. Look, if you're going to enter the Bulwer-Lytton "Dark & Stormy Night" contest, you need to improve it to make it worse: WORST AND BADDEST SUMMER. The Moon looked like a big ball of lava as it ascended Uranus. > The damn dew point was 80 something and the humidity in the 90s! "Damn dew point" would be good for a Hemingway pastiche, or a Hunter S. Thompson pastiche, except you might have to kick the curse up a notch. BAMN!!! Sorry, I know Emeril references are so 2001. That's why it would be good for you to do some of them in your story so you could submit it to the Bulwer-Lytton contest as well as the Hunter S. Thompson contest. Every time you insert a "fuck", follow it with a "BAMN!!!", godbamnit! The fucking (BAMN!!!) dew-fucking-point (BAMN!!!) was 80-fucking- something (BAMN!!!) and the humidity clung to my windpipe like some fucking leech-girl's fucking (BAMN!!!) wet talons. Okay, I admit it, I've never read any Hunter S. Thompson stuff, though I do claim half-credit for always getting him confused with William S. Burroughs. He shoulda picked a different middle initial. > I'd cry but you wouldn't be able to tell through the sweat. Then you're a fool for telling us. That's like if, in a Spot story, Spot cried, and then posted to the Internet saying "NONE OF YOU PEOPLE CAN SEE THAT I AM CRYING! 'WAAH', I AM SAYING! ALSO, 'WAAH!', I AM TYPING THAT I AM SAYING! I AM A DOGGIE CRYBABY!" If you cry, take every opportunity to conceal that fact otherwise you could wind up on TV like that football player who burst into tears today just because his coach said he looked fat in those pants, or whatever actually happened, I don't (BAMN!!!) fucking care. -- K. Jeff Altman is doing a comedy routine on Letterman's show right now. 'Cause I just tuned in, I don't know whether he's plugging the "Pink Lady & Jeff" DVDs or the "Challenge Of The Superheroes" bootleg DVD. ("Pink Lady & Jeff" is a lot better.)