The Isle of Marm
One of many awkward me-affiliated places.
Time-Dependent SemiPublic Memory Bank,
Super Secret Dumping/Proving Ground,
Displaced Miscellany Collection,
3 Hours in the Future (EST)
One of many awkward me-affiliated places.
Time-Dependent SemiPublic Memory Bank,
Super Secret Dumping/Proving Ground,
Displaced Miscellany Collection,
3 Hours in the Future (EST)
I can’t wait until I have a cheapskate grand-daughter who sends you *her* journal articles for your birthday and mother’s day.
In the original script, the “Land of Chocolate” sequence was absent, though the dialog that set it up was present (Homer complains to his new German bosses about the candy machines not working, to which one of them replies: “We understand, Homer. After all, we are from the land of chocolate!”). Executive producer Sam Simon was the one who suggested that they actually do a sequence in which Homer’s mind wanders off into an imaginary land made of chocolate. The sequence was storyboarded by animator Kevin O’Brien, who designed it to be a parody of The Sound of Music, but supervising director David Silverman suggested that it be more original. Silverman storyboarded the revised sequence, and tried to make Homer “deliriously happy” as he skipped through the town.
He later recalled, “I animated that scene frame by frame, I needed to draw the skip I wanted. Homer’s skipping sets the tone for that show.”
In the sequence there was supposed to be a road sign that read “Hershey Highway” (Hershey’s is a chocolate manufacturer, but the term “hershey highway” refers to anal sex). However, the censors objected and the writers replaced it with “Fudgetown”.
Junk-Mail-2.0 “INTRODUCING XFINITY® NATURE”
I’d forgotten how calming I find the act of “fixing” junk mail.
(1.1 left in “SIGNATURE SUPPORT” but implied questionably tasteless things about “John Hancock”.)
![Otto: You know those guitars, that are like, double guitars, you know? [“Approved”] Skinner: More rubber stamps. [“Approved”]
(From the Wikip: As of 2012, the most necks placed on a single guitar is a ludicrous and puzzling twelve, apparently first achieved in 2002 by Japanese artist Yoshihiko Satoh. Whether this hydra is actually a practical musical instrument or an avant garde sculpture remains conjectural.)](http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lybnysgKAz1qauqmuo1_400.jpg)
Otto: You know those guitars, that are like, double guitars, you know?
[“Approved”]
Skinner: More rubber stamps.
[“Approved”]
(From the Wikip: As of 2012, the most necks placed on a single guitar is a ludicrous and puzzling twelve, apparently first achieved in 2002 by Japanese artist Yoshihiko Satoh. Whether this hydra is actually a practical musical instrument or an avant garde sculpture remains conjectural.)
Looking through my pictures
It is abundantly clear
I have a complex home-life.
If we stipulate that “Nemeses”’ better half’s power is using his mind for the extraction and fusion of lead from the air to generate lead bullets, a single 4.2 g bullet would result in the cleaning of lead from an equivalent of roughly 4.666 Metrodomes (280M m³) of threshold polluted (per EPA/NAAQ Standards) air.
Which is to say, “you’re welcome.”
This guy was the bioengineer who lived in my freshman year dorm room before I did. (I was thinking earlier about how much I dislike moving and remembered I lived in the music house for 3 years, though I did move around in it 3 times) I used to be alternately un/comfortable with the fact that if you compressed four-dimensional space we totally slept together*. Which I think I actually thought about almost exactly 2 years ago when I was driving from CA to here and being generally uncomfortable about hotels along the way.
Anyhow, despite his manifold other skills, he is going to be a lawyer now. Law is like the grey goo. While maybe not showcased in this song, he was actually an impressive guitarist, which I feel may have benefited from his other fingers. But I guess he doesn’t need them for law. While learning and evolution are not things to be feared, I can also appreciate self-consistency.
(* There was a time when I could only sleep on floors in hotel rooms because of that nagging D4 thought. Then I thought about all the worse things that probably went down on the floor. It is shocking I am ever even functional.)
In any case, this chorus is pretty much the refrain of the day.
Sometimes, it can be particularly difficult to distinguish a good science day week from a bad science day week. Oddly, it was CLEARLY a good arts week.
While clearly not as jaunty as vice-grips, an adjustable wrench is an important and useful tool for many situations. Even just to talk to, sometimes.
BUT did you know slightly racist names for these guys exist everywhere? Obviously they would: people are salty without borders.
I was helping the German out with car problems (because, if I don’t reaffirm my status as “triple-A with double-D’s” occasionally, I may lose my fake certification) and asked for the “Mexican Socket Set” (which I can semi-legitimately say), and was told that in Germany they are called “Englishmen”.
THE MORE YOU KNOW.™
(These two are actually named “The Lobster” and “The Challenger”. If nothing else, we will consider this.)
This is just conversation, I am not wanting you to solve my problem.
We all know that I went to work today in order to grind away at what I would normally consider to be an intriguing science problem, instead of spending the day ice-fishing behind my apartment.
But, what this picture presupposes is: what if I didn’t?
(…Taken Saturday when I went looking for Hugo T. Fatfish who was not lured over by coffee/warmth-related intrigue.)
Example of a pheromone used for defense. A whip scorpion is ejecting its spray toward an appendage pinched with forceps. The pattern of the spray is visible on acid-sensitive indicator paper. The secretion is 84% acetic acid (CH3CO2H), 5% octanoic acid (CH3(CH2)6CO2H), and 11% water.
(From Louden’s Organic Chemistry)
C. This picture reminded me of the Louis CK bit about similar such things.
B. The memory of that Louis CK bit was near to another bit about Clifford The Big Red Dog, which I choke-laughed about in an airport, and is related to the incident of my perfect memory and broken perception.
A. There’s this failure of faculties that I can remember has happened at least once before, that I noticed the other day. I had been sitting next to Subject 45 and had noted how small his hands were. Surprisingly small. Not carnival worker small, but I was idly looking around the room during a meeting and noticed them with some degree of surprise—as opposed to not having noticed them at all. They didn’t seem incongruous with the rest of his person, which probably should have been a clue that something was wonky.
BUT THEN, after a moment of semi-legitimate contact and visual recalibration, peripeteia: his hands are enormous. I realized that the primary way I could have gotten something so wrong was that I had thought he was sitting closer to me than he actually was.
FUN FACT!: “Alice in Wonderland Syndrome” is also known as “Todd’s Syndrome”. I probably don’t have a tumor (Obligatory: It’s naht a tumah), nor is there a high likelihood I have mono* (Equally obligatory: “Mono” means one…), I just have to not sit through meetings with only one eye open.
(* I’m working on it, I really am.)
When he puts the filets of sole by his ears, I giggle EVERY time.
INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT REFERENCE.
Given that he’s a former marine, one would think Keitel would be slightly more dangerous than the Rabbit. However, there is a special sort of insidiousness to imaginary things. The angry ghost of Harvey Pekar strikes me as terrifying and likely to haunt, if nothing else, my dreams.
