Ah, yeah. My PS3.
This week I bought a copy of the film 'Operation Condor' one of the most funniest Jackie Chan films I have ever seen. Looking forward to finally owning a copy of it, I put it in my PS3.
And everything went green. Thats right, that green like from The Matrix. Obviously, some problem with the scart lead as if I pushed it down a bit, I would get the right colours, then lose the sound and next of all; It went blue and red with odd purple at the background.
There seems to be some obvious error in DVDs being played on PS3 and I hope it gets solved soon. Of course, this would make watching The Matrix trilogy a lot more involving.
Sunday 30 December 2007
Saturday 28 July 2007
'Latrid'
Just what are computers beginning to mean to me?
I beginning to hate my computer and the internet as a whole.
Yes, there is a lot to do on the internet and a lot of free things to get, almost all digital.
I've ended up collecting things, just for the hell of it, but they all seem meaningless, the websites I go for news and downloads daily, pointless.
It all has no meaning, I'm not sure where my time is going and enough isn't enough.
I don't particularly socialise on the 'net, because I don't believe in it.
I have 4 days off a week and most is spent on this cursed internet or just the laptop.
I'm doing nothing creative, nothing really worthwhile, things that will NEVER get me anywhere in life.
Its a whole love/hate relationship with the internet, its not fun. It appears fun, but it isn't, its just timewasting.
Problem is; I can't stop, I can't damned concentrate on anything else either.
I'm really beginning to hate the internet and what it stands for, because, fantastic as it may be, it just stands for nothing.
Maybe I should start monitoring the time on this evil, timewasting thing, because, I'm ALWAYS bored on the internet, never happy enough, always wanting more.
This of course; does not affect consoles, as Earth Defence Force 2017 is one of the finest, original games I have ever played.
I beginning to hate my computer and the internet as a whole.
Yes, there is a lot to do on the internet and a lot of free things to get, almost all digital.
I've ended up collecting things, just for the hell of it, but they all seem meaningless, the websites I go for news and downloads daily, pointless.
It all has no meaning, I'm not sure where my time is going and enough isn't enough.
I don't particularly socialise on the 'net, because I don't believe in it.
I have 4 days off a week and most is spent on this cursed internet or just the laptop.
I'm doing nothing creative, nothing really worthwhile, things that will NEVER get me anywhere in life.
Its a whole love/hate relationship with the internet, its not fun. It appears fun, but it isn't, its just timewasting.
Problem is; I can't stop, I can't damned concentrate on anything else either.
I'm really beginning to hate the internet and what it stands for, because, fantastic as it may be, it just stands for nothing.
Maybe I should start monitoring the time on this evil, timewasting thing, because, I'm ALWAYS bored on the internet, never happy enough, always wanting more.
This of course; does not affect consoles, as Earth Defence Force 2017 is one of the finest, original games I have ever played.
Sunday 8 July 2007
Internet Mean Time
Well, I've come up with another concept. Maybe a little un-original, but y'know that old argument about 'time being man-made'?
Well, I'm thinking of there being a separate time zone for the internet, people on the internet. You see, apparently; 'Time flies when you're having fun' right, thats valid.
BUT
I'm not always having 'fun' on the internet. But boy, does time fly.
Heres my following theory:
Its not any work of genius or anything, its just what I think. If I don't look at a clock whilst on the internet (only browsing), the time goes faster than playing on the XBOX or the PS2 etc.
You no longer see hours pass. Things are counted in half hours and odd minutes when you glance down (up on my desktop) and see the time. You NEVER hardly ever see the clock turn to an hour.
Okay, fine, so I wasn't looking at the clock, yeah, but at least I have a basic idea how long I've been playing a game when I'm on a console.
Recently I've been having 'little talks' on MSN that last over 2 hours or so.
For example, one of my friends saw most of Doctor Who series 3 online, whilst I just 'browsed' on the internet, really doing nothing fun at all.
Doctor Who episodes are 45 mins each approx!
That means, 13 episodes...(he only saw 12) must come up to about 4 or 5 hours or so and we talked between the show and I had done NOTHING!
So judging by that, the internet has no time.
Internet Mean Time, right? Gottit?
Well, I'm thinking of there being a separate time zone for the internet, people on the internet. You see, apparently; 'Time flies when you're having fun' right, thats valid.
BUT
I'm not always having 'fun' on the internet. But boy, does time fly.
Heres my following theory:
Its not any work of genius or anything, its just what I think. If I don't look at a clock whilst on the internet (only browsing), the time goes faster than playing on the XBOX or the PS2 etc.
You no longer see hours pass. Things are counted in half hours and odd minutes when you glance down (up on my desktop) and see the time. You NEVER hardly ever see the clock turn to an hour.
Okay, fine, so I wasn't looking at the clock, yeah, but at least I have a basic idea how long I've been playing a game when I'm on a console.
Recently I've been having 'little talks' on MSN that last over 2 hours or so.
For example, one of my friends saw most of Doctor Who series 3 online, whilst I just 'browsed' on the internet, really doing nothing fun at all.
Doctor Who episodes are 45 mins each approx!
That means, 13 episodes...(he only saw 12) must come up to about 4 or 5 hours or so and we talked between the show and I had done NOTHING!
So judging by that, the internet has no time.
Internet Mean Time, right? Gottit?
Friday 6 July 2007
Testing, Testing 1, 2, 3...
Heres a test on this little thingummy jig I have at the bottom of my Firefox window. Yeah, I know, the blog hasn't had anything added onto it for ages. I'm currently in the midst of working again (during the summer hols) Selfishly saving up to buy;
1. A Xbox 360 Premium console (For EDF, firstly)
2. A PS3 (I don't care what people are saying, Naughty Dog and Insomniac are still part of Sony and getting one of these is the only way I'm going to play their games.)
I also want to buy a copy of Crime Traveller and Randall and Hopkirk (deceased) Reeves and Mortimer version.
Right, lets see if this bugger works!
This made me lol, click for larger.
1. A Xbox 360 Premium console (For EDF, firstly)
2. A PS3 (I don't care what people are saying, Naughty Dog and Insomniac are still part of Sony and getting one of these is the only way I'm going to play their games.)
I also want to buy a copy of Crime Traveller and Randall and Hopkirk (deceased) Reeves and Mortimer version.
Right, lets see if this bugger works!
This made me lol, click for larger.
powered by performancing firefox
Wednesday 23 May 2007
George and out-on-a-limb
Hello, long time, no post.
I'd just like to say and discuss about the dire 'cartoon/funnies' pages in the Sun, especially the cartoon, 'George and Lynn'.
I've started reading my horoscopes and I've come across this cartoon, mostly featuring two scantly dressed women chatting about their husbands. I soon realised that neither of these women were called 'George', in fact, I don't think I've even seen George.
Just two women, in spas, baths, having massages and with breasts out slagging off their husbands.
After examining the above panel, see if you agree with me...has some artist illustrated an erotic lesbian romance story and some ex BBC Radio comedy writer been asked to fill in the speech bubbles?
I'd just like to say and discuss about the dire 'cartoon/funnies' pages in the Sun, especially the cartoon, 'George and Lynn'.
I've started reading my horoscopes and I've come across this cartoon, mostly featuring two scantly dressed women chatting about their husbands. I soon realised that neither of these women were called 'George', in fact, I don't think I've even seen George.
Just two women, in spas, baths, having massages and with breasts out slagging off their husbands.
After examining the above panel, see if you agree with me...has some artist illustrated an erotic lesbian romance story and some ex BBC Radio comedy writer been asked to fill in the speech bubbles?
Tuesday 13 March 2007
Biscuit Tricks
I tell you, ten minutes ago, I sworn I found the Holy Grail.
There it was, shining in all its glory...the White Chocolate Digestive...oh wait, no, no. Its just a bloody upside down Jammie Dodger in bad lighting.
Realizing this; I was immediately pissed off and to make it even worse; I wanted a white chocolate covered digestive.
I typed up 'White Chocolate Digestive' in Google. Apparently they do exist...now, why, oh why, can't I buy them?
You would of thought that a White Chocolate Digestive would be very popular. I mean, they have Milk Chocolate, Dark Chocolate and even Mint covered chocolate digestives.
Just imagine the taste of a White Chocolate Digestive dipped in a lukewarm cup of tea...ahh, heaven. But those hypocrites decide to release every flavour of chocolate digestive but White Chocolate.
There it was, shining in all its glory...the White Chocolate Digestive...oh wait, no, no. Its just a bloody upside down Jammie Dodger in bad lighting.
Realizing this; I was immediately pissed off and to make it even worse; I wanted a white chocolate covered digestive.
I typed up 'White Chocolate Digestive' in Google. Apparently they do exist...now, why, oh why, can't I buy them?
You would of thought that a White Chocolate Digestive would be very popular. I mean, they have Milk Chocolate, Dark Chocolate and even Mint covered chocolate digestives.
Just imagine the taste of a White Chocolate Digestive dipped in a lukewarm cup of tea...ahh, heaven. But those hypocrites decide to release every flavour of chocolate digestive but White Chocolate.
F**k you, Jammie Dodger, just f**k you, thats for acting like a tempting, beautiful, explosion of taste that would be a White Chocolate Digestive biscuit oh yeah...and killing Johnny from 2 Pints. B**stard, I'll never look at you the same way again.
Sunday 4 March 2007
P+popu #2
Pockets and purses of parallel universes
Tale 2
The TV turned on, just as Ricky predicted, the power of the remote served well.
The over-the-top bass music from next door was interrupting his vital episode of CSI at this moment, Ricky thought that he was never going to even hear the TV and after thumping the walls a couple of time like a POW, he decided he would have to resort to Teletext.
Ricky couldn't stand Teletext, it was the internet before the internet, but failed miserably and every screen looked like it was themed on somebody's wake after their funeral, it was poorly designed and forced you to remember 3 digit numbers. Whilst you tried to do so, holiday advertisements came up with their companies telephone number to taunt you.
It was a battle. He needed index...101, 'Great, easy number that,' He thought to himself. Ricky found this number easy to recall, because one of his favorite films was 101 Dalmatians. Except from the fact the title explains the main plot device of 101 Dalmatians, he'd more or less forgot what the film was actually about.
The black screen stared at him as he waited patiently for the TV to try to find the page he was looking for, 'If this was the internet, this would be a whole lot more easier...' Ricky thought to himself. The black was taunting, and it was a shame for such a drab tone to be used on a television, 'Why didn't they use a proper colour? It looks like the TVs off anyway...'
Ricky suddenly wanted the creator of Teletext to be killed and sacrificed. This type of abuse to a TV was not acceptable, whatever bright spark came up with the ingenious idea to fill a colour TV with black must of been laughing in his executive chair.
'Ha! ha! ha!' Screamed the creator, in his executive type clothing. 'The world will be brainwashed with my EVIL, BLACK screen!'
The intercom on the desk screamed, 'Mr teletext, Theres somebody who calls himself Ricky here to see you!'
'Send him in, Julie!' The man cackled, 'Nobody can stop my EVIL masterplan now!'
He leaned back in his teletext background themed leather chair and reclined as if to look a big shot, the chair had a little conversation with him in squeaky-leather-chair'ish as he leaned back.
The door started to shake as if a powerful force was about to break through. Mr Teletext started to panic. Mr Teletext was scared, as he sat up the chair once again spoke. The door must of been going over the reicter scale by now.
Bang, bang, bang...WHAM!
The door ripped open through the front and two shards of wooden door just missed Mr Teletext's head.
'Heeeerress, Rickkkkyyy!!' Screamed the person who just shouted his own name in his own clich'e speech.
Ricky was on a vendetta, he was out to get Mr Teletext, Mr Teletext knew this, and pretended not to know, whilst Ricky pretended that he didn't know that Mr Teletext knew, synchronised, Ricky and Mr Teletext had a headache over the confusion what they had both been thinking about. Ricky continued his vendetta.
'Ah. Mr Teletext, we meet.'
'Ricky Chimera!' Mr Teletext hid behind his chair.
Ricky walked up to the desk and cleared all the objects of Teletext's work surface.
'Don't you even TRY to press that alarm switch, Teletext.'
Teletexts arm flee'd from the button.
'What do you want?' Teletext started fumbling about with his desk, and after some shuffling pulled out an object that fired metal projectiles that fit in his hand. 'Ha! Ha! Mr Chimera! Did you expect, THIS?'
Ricky's right eyebrow rose up and touched his fringe, 'No, I did not.'
Teletext looked at the object in his hand to see a piece of handy, but not in this situation, stationary. 'Shit.'
Ricky leaned over Teletexts desk. 'I admit, I did not expect such a powerful person as you, to threaten me with a mere...STAPLER.'
The intercom screeched again 'Oh, Mr Teletext! I put your gun in the third draw down, I decided to put more important things in the top draw.'
These important things were as to follow; A now removed stapler, a box of cuban cigars, a copy of Radio Times, a scratched copy of Microsoft Windows 95, A box of Tetleys teabags and finally a smurf that once stood proudly on his desk, in all of that, no food mixer or cuddly toy.
Ricky once again unpaused from his vendetta, 'Mr Teletext, your invention has been really,' Ricky paused and looked Teletext in the eye, 'Irritating me, I am here to take your life for all the time I have wasted looking at a black screen on a colour television set.'
Ricky then pulled out his UZIs from his black leather trench coat and adjusted his shades, Mr Teletext smiled,
'I have been waiting for such a day as this for millenia, and now, I will challenge you!'
'What, with a stapler?'
'Not exactly...' Mr Teletext held out his hand and with a neon yellow beam blasted Ricky across the room.
Ricky flew through several offices walls interrupting several workers looking at porn, and several short skirted secretarys, but he didn't exactly fly through the stationary photocopier.
He picked himself up and brushed the plastic debris off his coat, the office staff looked at him. Ricky pointed his finger up into the air, 'This photocopier will be noted as a prisoner of war!' and Ricky flew off fists forwards back to Teletexts office.
The techno-rave music came on in the background as once again Ricky arrived in Teletexts base of operations. 'Chimera, I CHALLENGE you!', Ricky could see, plainly, Teletext was holding what looked like a torch.
'That is a torch, Teletext.'
Teletext leaped towards Ricky, 'This is no torch, Chimera! This is a blade!', In pure insanity, Teletext ripped open his own desk in half with the shining red blade of light. 'this is one of a kind, Chimera! The ultimate melee weapon!'
Ricky rustled through his skyscraper sized pockets, Teletext paused,
'what are you doing?! I have just challenged you!'
Ricky pulled out his clenched fist, 'Yes!, thought I had one of them hanging about!'
Teletext stood in shock as Ricky activated his One-of-a-kind-melee-weapon, 'B-b-but, how...' Teletext fought his mind, 'How, what, when, the hell did you get one of them?'
Ricky grinned with a smirk, 'The internet is far more worthy of your so called, Teletext!'
Ricky dodged a couple of neon red beams aimed to hit vital bodily organs, until Ricky heard a rip.
The silence was deadly, okay, maybe not as deadly as the lazer based weapons each competitor held, but it was pretty dodgy.
Ricky held his hands over his chest, collapsed knees down on the floor, 'You will pay for this, Teletext,' He stood up, 'You just ruined...' his facial muscles clenched, 'MY BEST SHIRT!'
Ricky grabbed the nearest object and threw it at Teletext, in a sudden twist of fate, extremely unlucky for Teletext, this was his beloved chair. Even more unluckier, his own chair hit him in the chest and made a couple of organs internally bleed. To make that just that bit worse, Teletexts trajectory was heading towards his view through his fragile glass window leading to the bustling metropolis below him. Just to rub it in more, the glass started to shatter as he fell against it thanks to the velocity of his beloved black chair which often tried to communicate with him after sitting down, hitting him in the chest making some beloved internal organs bleed like Hell.
'Gasp.' Teletext gasped as his foot slipped off the windowsill. 'Y-y-you.' Teletext took in a deep breath through his now collapsed lungs, 'Win.'
Teletext interacted with gravity and started moving down at an incredible speed. Teletext was thinking about his life as he fell, which is was very sucessful and way too long to even try to explain here. To be honest, it was so good, with no flaws, apart from the fact he was falling to his death, about to meet a inviting concrete floor, that He didn't even have enough time to think about it much. He more or less got up to the point when he was in Kindergarten messing around with paint, his teacher came up to see what he'd been 'working' on all day.
'And what have you been working on today?'
Teletext was mute at this age, and after showing his work of art, which was a completely black painted sheet of A4 paper, calmly said, 'Dats gonna make me rich wen I'm older!!' and he was true, it would probably would do, maybe possibly if all this wasn't in Ricky's over reactive imagination whilst he hadn't even taken in the fact that the index page had loaded exactly, ten minutes ago.
Ricky woke up and picked up the remote again, and accidentally jumped past the index page, all Ricky wanted was a simple life and to find out what was going to be said in CSI. He wanted subtitles and he needed them fast. Ricky remembered from all those times he played Bamboozle acting sick when he should of been at school, that it was a 3 digit number with all the numbers the same. Randomly in anger, Ricky typed in just so.
The TV flashed black to red, a blood red, like the red that Mr Teletext was bleeding in his fifteen minute daydream, bizzare icons flashed on his walls, runes moved across his carpet, admittedly it was a lot better than the flowery pattern that resided there first of all. A mysterious red fog loomed about the room, the runes became more intense and started to form into the greek alphabet, until it spelt; 'yeah, what the Hell do you want?'
Ricky stood in shock that such an accent could appear on his carpet in such a way, but was distracted by the sudden invasion of pentagrams.
Ricky felt stupid, but split second decided that he'd really ought to try to communicate with the carpet.
'I only want subtitles so I can watch CSI tonight...'
A ghostly face projected through the carpet, 'Is that...all?'
'Well, yeah, I was trying to get subtitles...'
'Oh, bugger, not again,' The face moved along the skirting board to the wall in front of Ricky.'This happens all the bloody time in England. Just one finger to the wrong side of the remote and you contact me through your TV. Great, just bloody great.'
'Wha?!' Ricky said like a gormless idiot, which suffice to say, the spectral face thought he was at this exact moment in time.
'Now, you...you're different, you can reply back, you can actually hear me!' The face bellowed with excitement.
'W-w-who the Hell are you?' Shouted Ricky at the overjoyed grinning face.
'So, you DO know...'
'I know?'
'You said, Hell, right?' The face smiled, 'You did, yes?'
Ricky replied, 'Yes, I said Hell.'
'HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW?!'
Ricky stood in confusion, 'Look, is this some kind of 'Its a hologram' thing off of Scooby Doo or something?'
'Blood red? Runes? Satanic Pentagrams?' The face hinted and winked.
The prospect of Ricky's own wall winking back at him didn't go down too well. He meant so say something but just made a 'Uhhhhh...' noise.
'I'm Satan you fool!'
'My walls Satan?'
'No, I'm using your wall to communicate to you.'
'Stop it. Its scary.'
The face looked pissed 'Thats the bloody point!!
'Well, you never talked to other people like that in fables, stories, myths, The Bible...'
The face stared Ricky back in his, 'Well, you see, 'Hi, I'm Satan, Lord of the Underworld,' doesn't exactly work these days, they just laugh at me.' the face started sniffling.
'I won't laugh at you.' The door creaked.
'Promise?' The face smiled.
At this exact moment Ricky could of sworn he just heard somebody shout nearby, maybe it was just the loud music next door with those gormless big mouthed DJ's screaming 'Everybody inda house!!!' or something crap like that.
'I promise over my dead body...'
The face interrupted '...soul.'
'Okay, then...soul, I will NOT laugh at you.'
'Really?'
'yes really, hurry up, I'm missing CSI.'
'You promise you won't laugh?'
'Bloody hell! just get it over with!'
The face started sniffling again, 'Its not really like that.People just like speading rumours, its just like Heaven only with Flames and tortured souls.'
Poof!
And there was Satan, Lord of the Underworld, dressed in his unstereotypical costume, a Red PVC bodysuit.
'You're Satan?!' Ricky exclaimed. 'But you look like Britney Spears in the Oops I did it again video!' Ricky started walking backwards to the kitchen still talking, which was pretty astounding.
'Ever wonder how she became so rich and famous?' Satan muttered. 'And she stole my image!'
'Only for one Video.' Ricky shouted from the kitchen as he closed the fridge, 'So then, lets get this over with, what do you want?' and started drinking his ice cold milk.
'Your soul.'
Ricky snorted milk out his nose. 'My soul? You want my soul?!'
Satan held out his hand, 'One soul please.'
'Why should I give you MY soul?' Ricky turned his back on Satan, 'I'm missing CSI for this.'
'You just laughed, earlier you said that if you laughed, you would give your soul to me.'
'I said nothing like that!'
The room flashed, Ricky was outside his door with Satan next to him.
'Open it,' Satan whispered in Rickys ear.
Ricky opened the door ajar, the door creaked, to Ricky's horror, he could see himself talking to the wall. Ricky got a sudden feeling of DeJa Vu. Ricky listened in.
'...The Bible...'
Ricky looked at Satan, 'Thats me! Thats me!'
'Very observant, now shut up and continue listening in.' Satan smacked Ricky at the back of the head.
'Ow, what was that for?'
'Just LISTEN!' Flames shot up Satans body.
'I would if you did'nt shout so much!' Ricky paused, 'Or ASSAULT me!'
'Just listen in.'
'Hey, people don't like the idea of other people listening in to conversations!'
'Look, you are listening in to YOURSELF, YOU.'
'I'm sure I wouldn't like myself listening in to myself.'
Satan cocked his eyebrow and put his hands on either side of his hips, 'Right then, ask yourself.'
'Ask myself? Thats crazy! I can't do that!'
'Exactly, I'm sure he'll be fine with it.'
Ricky listened in to catch;
'I promise over my dead body...'
'...soul.'
'Okay, then...soul, I will NOT laugh at you.'
Satan clapped his hands and jumped about, 'Ha ha! Proof! You DID say it!'
'You just brought me back in time just for THAT?!' Ricky looked intimidated, 'To prove yourself right?'
'Yes! soul please!' Satan held out his hand.
'Don't you have enough souls?'
'Does a collector ever have enough?'
'I dialed 666, by MISTAKE, I purely wanted to watch CSI with the subtitles, of which I have just missed quarter of an hour of.'
'No you haven't! Its about 10 minutes you've missed, we just went back in time, stupid! Remember?'
Ricky held out his arms in a crucified position, 'Go on, take my bloody soul!'
'Aggghhh!' Satan screamed.
'Take it!'
the door opened fully, the past Ricky walked past shouting through to the living room, walking backwards, not even noticing both time travelers, not even the horned, horny looking one, opened the fridge, pulled out the milk from the milk compartment, ripped open the carton, opened the cupboard, pulled out a glass and walked back out, still shouting.
The present Ricky stood in shock, 'How the Hell didn't I notice that?!'
'Because you're an idiot, Ricky.' Satan paused, 'Thats why.To be honest, I don't even want your soul anymore!'
Ricky stood straight both arms clenched into fists down his waist, 'HEY! don't be like that!'
'I said you could have my soul!'
'But then you did that sign, I'm offended!'
'What sign?' Ricky enquired.
'The crucifix!' Satan exclaimed.
'I've been meaning to ask you that, why exactly are you scared of a shape?'
Satan's eyes rolled, 'I don't know.'
'So you're scared of an emblem that represents a carpenters son, apparently the son of God, nailed to two planks of harmless wood?'
Satan's eyes rolled again.'I never thought of that. I'm better than that! I'm not scared of no shape!'
Ricky sat down on his settee, 'Good, feel better now?'
'Y'know, you're a really good friend, nobodies spoke to me like this for years!' Satan paused as he sat down next to Ricky, 'Mind you most of them were deaf...'
'I can imagine.' Ricky grabbed the remote, 'Right, since I'm your friend now, do us two favors.'
Satan sat close up to Ricky, 'What?'
Ricky moved away from Satan, 'One, Rewind time so we can watch CSI...'
Satan did so, 'And two?'
Ricky stood up again and turned the TV off, the room fell silent, '...And two...'
'Raise the dead?'
'Nope'
'Destroy the universe?'
'Nope.'
'Oh, I give up, what?'
Ricky pointed towards Satan,
'Piss Off.'
(This was written 28 September 2005)
Tale 2
Go To Hell Satan!
By
Martyn 'Awesomic' Eker AKA FREKER
By
Martyn 'Awesomic' Eker AKA FREKER
The TV turned on, just as Ricky predicted, the power of the remote served well.
The over-the-top bass music from next door was interrupting his vital episode of CSI at this moment, Ricky thought that he was never going to even hear the TV and after thumping the walls a couple of time like a POW, he decided he would have to resort to Teletext.
Ricky couldn't stand Teletext, it was the internet before the internet, but failed miserably and every screen looked like it was themed on somebody's wake after their funeral, it was poorly designed and forced you to remember 3 digit numbers. Whilst you tried to do so, holiday advertisements came up with their companies telephone number to taunt you.
It was a battle. He needed index...101, 'Great, easy number that,' He thought to himself. Ricky found this number easy to recall, because one of his favorite films was 101 Dalmatians. Except from the fact the title explains the main plot device of 101 Dalmatians, he'd more or less forgot what the film was actually about.
The black screen stared at him as he waited patiently for the TV to try to find the page he was looking for, 'If this was the internet, this would be a whole lot more easier...' Ricky thought to himself. The black was taunting, and it was a shame for such a drab tone to be used on a television, 'Why didn't they use a proper colour? It looks like the TVs off anyway...'
Ricky suddenly wanted the creator of Teletext to be killed and sacrificed. This type of abuse to a TV was not acceptable, whatever bright spark came up with the ingenious idea to fill a colour TV with black must of been laughing in his executive chair.
'Ha! ha! ha!' Screamed the creator, in his executive type clothing. 'The world will be brainwashed with my EVIL, BLACK screen!'
The intercom on the desk screamed, 'Mr teletext, Theres somebody who calls himself Ricky here to see you!'
'Send him in, Julie!' The man cackled, 'Nobody can stop my EVIL masterplan now!'
He leaned back in his teletext background themed leather chair and reclined as if to look a big shot, the chair had a little conversation with him in squeaky-leather-chair'ish as he leaned back.
The door started to shake as if a powerful force was about to break through. Mr Teletext started to panic. Mr Teletext was scared, as he sat up the chair once again spoke. The door must of been going over the reicter scale by now.
Bang, bang, bang...WHAM!
The door ripped open through the front and two shards of wooden door just missed Mr Teletext's head.
'Heeeerress, Rickkkkyyy!!' Screamed the person who just shouted his own name in his own clich'e speech.
Ricky was on a vendetta, he was out to get Mr Teletext, Mr Teletext knew this, and pretended not to know, whilst Ricky pretended that he didn't know that Mr Teletext knew, synchronised, Ricky and Mr Teletext had a headache over the confusion what they had both been thinking about. Ricky continued his vendetta.
'Ah. Mr Teletext, we meet.'
'Ricky Chimera!' Mr Teletext hid behind his chair.
Ricky walked up to the desk and cleared all the objects of Teletext's work surface.
'Don't you even TRY to press that alarm switch, Teletext.'
Teletexts arm flee'd from the button.
'What do you want?' Teletext started fumbling about with his desk, and after some shuffling pulled out an object that fired metal projectiles that fit in his hand. 'Ha! Ha! Mr Chimera! Did you expect, THIS?'
Ricky's right eyebrow rose up and touched his fringe, 'No, I did not.'
Teletext looked at the object in his hand to see a piece of handy, but not in this situation, stationary. 'Shit.'
Ricky leaned over Teletexts desk. 'I admit, I did not expect such a powerful person as you, to threaten me with a mere...STAPLER.'
The intercom screeched again 'Oh, Mr Teletext! I put your gun in the third draw down, I decided to put more important things in the top draw.'
These important things were as to follow; A now removed stapler, a box of cuban cigars, a copy of Radio Times, a scratched copy of Microsoft Windows 95, A box of Tetleys teabags and finally a smurf that once stood proudly on his desk, in all of that, no food mixer or cuddly toy.
Ricky once again unpaused from his vendetta, 'Mr Teletext, your invention has been really,' Ricky paused and looked Teletext in the eye, 'Irritating me, I am here to take your life for all the time I have wasted looking at a black screen on a colour television set.'
Ricky then pulled out his UZIs from his black leather trench coat and adjusted his shades, Mr Teletext smiled,
'I have been waiting for such a day as this for millenia, and now, I will challenge you!'
'What, with a stapler?'
'Not exactly...' Mr Teletext held out his hand and with a neon yellow beam blasted Ricky across the room.
Ricky flew through several offices walls interrupting several workers looking at porn, and several short skirted secretarys, but he didn't exactly fly through the stationary photocopier.
He picked himself up and brushed the plastic debris off his coat, the office staff looked at him. Ricky pointed his finger up into the air, 'This photocopier will be noted as a prisoner of war!' and Ricky flew off fists forwards back to Teletexts office.
The techno-rave music came on in the background as once again Ricky arrived in Teletexts base of operations. 'Chimera, I CHALLENGE you!', Ricky could see, plainly, Teletext was holding what looked like a torch.
'That is a torch, Teletext.'
Teletext leaped towards Ricky, 'This is no torch, Chimera! This is a blade!', In pure insanity, Teletext ripped open his own desk in half with the shining red blade of light. 'this is one of a kind, Chimera! The ultimate melee weapon!'
Ricky rustled through his skyscraper sized pockets, Teletext paused,
'what are you doing?! I have just challenged you!'
Ricky pulled out his clenched fist, 'Yes!, thought I had one of them hanging about!'
Teletext stood in shock as Ricky activated his One-of-a-kind-melee-weapon, 'B-b-but, how...' Teletext fought his mind, 'How, what, when, the hell did you get one of them?'
Ricky grinned with a smirk, 'The internet is far more worthy of your so called, Teletext!'
Ricky dodged a couple of neon red beams aimed to hit vital bodily organs, until Ricky heard a rip.
The silence was deadly, okay, maybe not as deadly as the lazer based weapons each competitor held, but it was pretty dodgy.
Ricky held his hands over his chest, collapsed knees down on the floor, 'You will pay for this, Teletext,' He stood up, 'You just ruined...' his facial muscles clenched, 'MY BEST SHIRT!'
Ricky grabbed the nearest object and threw it at Teletext, in a sudden twist of fate, extremely unlucky for Teletext, this was his beloved chair. Even more unluckier, his own chair hit him in the chest and made a couple of organs internally bleed. To make that just that bit worse, Teletexts trajectory was heading towards his view through his fragile glass window leading to the bustling metropolis below him. Just to rub it in more, the glass started to shatter as he fell against it thanks to the velocity of his beloved black chair which often tried to communicate with him after sitting down, hitting him in the chest making some beloved internal organs bleed like Hell.
'Gasp.' Teletext gasped as his foot slipped off the windowsill. 'Y-y-you.' Teletext took in a deep breath through his now collapsed lungs, 'Win.'
Teletext interacted with gravity and started moving down at an incredible speed. Teletext was thinking about his life as he fell, which is was very sucessful and way too long to even try to explain here. To be honest, it was so good, with no flaws, apart from the fact he was falling to his death, about to meet a inviting concrete floor, that He didn't even have enough time to think about it much. He more or less got up to the point when he was in Kindergarten messing around with paint, his teacher came up to see what he'd been 'working' on all day.
'And what have you been working on today?'
Teletext was mute at this age, and after showing his work of art, which was a completely black painted sheet of A4 paper, calmly said, 'Dats gonna make me rich wen I'm older!!' and he was true, it would probably would do, maybe possibly if all this wasn't in Ricky's over reactive imagination whilst he hadn't even taken in the fact that the index page had loaded exactly, ten minutes ago.
Ricky woke up and picked up the remote again, and accidentally jumped past the index page, all Ricky wanted was a simple life and to find out what was going to be said in CSI. He wanted subtitles and he needed them fast. Ricky remembered from all those times he played Bamboozle acting sick when he should of been at school, that it was a 3 digit number with all the numbers the same. Randomly in anger, Ricky typed in just so.
The TV flashed black to red, a blood red, like the red that Mr Teletext was bleeding in his fifteen minute daydream, bizzare icons flashed on his walls, runes moved across his carpet, admittedly it was a lot better than the flowery pattern that resided there first of all. A mysterious red fog loomed about the room, the runes became more intense and started to form into the greek alphabet, until it spelt; 'yeah, what the Hell do you want?'
Ricky stood in shock that such an accent could appear on his carpet in such a way, but was distracted by the sudden invasion of pentagrams.
Ricky felt stupid, but split second decided that he'd really ought to try to communicate with the carpet.
'I only want subtitles so I can watch CSI tonight...'
A ghostly face projected through the carpet, 'Is that...all?'
'Well, yeah, I was trying to get subtitles...'
'Oh, bugger, not again,' The face moved along the skirting board to the wall in front of Ricky.'This happens all the bloody time in England. Just one finger to the wrong side of the remote and you contact me through your TV. Great, just bloody great.'
'Wha?!' Ricky said like a gormless idiot, which suffice to say, the spectral face thought he was at this exact moment in time.
'Now, you...you're different, you can reply back, you can actually hear me!' The face bellowed with excitement.
'W-w-who the Hell are you?' Shouted Ricky at the overjoyed grinning face.
'So, you DO know...'
'I know?'
'You said, Hell, right?' The face smiled, 'You did, yes?'
Ricky replied, 'Yes, I said Hell.'
'HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW?!'
Ricky stood in confusion, 'Look, is this some kind of 'Its a hologram' thing off of Scooby Doo or something?'
'Blood red? Runes? Satanic Pentagrams?' The face hinted and winked.
The prospect of Ricky's own wall winking back at him didn't go down too well. He meant so say something but just made a 'Uhhhhh...' noise.
'I'm Satan you fool!'
'My walls Satan?'
'No, I'm using your wall to communicate to you.'
'Stop it. Its scary.'
The face looked pissed 'Thats the bloody point!!
'Well, you never talked to other people like that in fables, stories, myths, The Bible...'
The face stared Ricky back in his, 'Well, you see, 'Hi, I'm Satan, Lord of the Underworld,' doesn't exactly work these days, they just laugh at me.' the face started sniffling.
'I won't laugh at you.' The door creaked.
'Promise?' The face smiled.
At this exact moment Ricky could of sworn he just heard somebody shout nearby, maybe it was just the loud music next door with those gormless big mouthed DJ's screaming 'Everybody inda house!!!' or something crap like that.
'I promise over my dead body...'
The face interrupted '...soul.'
'Okay, then...soul, I will NOT laugh at you.'
'Really?'
'yes really, hurry up, I'm missing CSI.'
'You promise you won't laugh?'
'Bloody hell! just get it over with!'
The face started sniffling again, 'Its not really like that.People just like speading rumours, its just like Heaven only with Flames and tortured souls.'
Poof!
And there was Satan, Lord of the Underworld, dressed in his unstereotypical costume, a Red PVC bodysuit.
'You're Satan?!' Ricky exclaimed. 'But you look like Britney Spears in the Oops I did it again video!' Ricky started walking backwards to the kitchen still talking, which was pretty astounding.
'Ever wonder how she became so rich and famous?' Satan muttered. 'And she stole my image!'
'Only for one Video.' Ricky shouted from the kitchen as he closed the fridge, 'So then, lets get this over with, what do you want?' and started drinking his ice cold milk.
'Your soul.'
Ricky snorted milk out his nose. 'My soul? You want my soul?!'
Satan held out his hand, 'One soul please.'
'Why should I give you MY soul?' Ricky turned his back on Satan, 'I'm missing CSI for this.'
'You just laughed, earlier you said that if you laughed, you would give your soul to me.'
'I said nothing like that!'
The room flashed, Ricky was outside his door with Satan next to him.
'Open it,' Satan whispered in Rickys ear.
Ricky opened the door ajar, the door creaked, to Ricky's horror, he could see himself talking to the wall. Ricky got a sudden feeling of DeJa Vu. Ricky listened in.
'...The Bible...'
Ricky looked at Satan, 'Thats me! Thats me!'
'Very observant, now shut up and continue listening in.' Satan smacked Ricky at the back of the head.
'Ow, what was that for?'
'Just LISTEN!' Flames shot up Satans body.
'I would if you did'nt shout so much!' Ricky paused, 'Or ASSAULT me!'
'Just listen in.'
'Hey, people don't like the idea of other people listening in to conversations!'
'Look, you are listening in to YOURSELF, YOU.'
'I'm sure I wouldn't like myself listening in to myself.'
Satan cocked his eyebrow and put his hands on either side of his hips, 'Right then, ask yourself.'
'Ask myself? Thats crazy! I can't do that!'
'Exactly, I'm sure he'll be fine with it.'
Ricky listened in to catch;
'I promise over my dead body...'
'...soul.'
'Okay, then...soul, I will NOT laugh at you.'
Satan clapped his hands and jumped about, 'Ha ha! Proof! You DID say it!'
'You just brought me back in time just for THAT?!' Ricky looked intimidated, 'To prove yourself right?'
'Yes! soul please!' Satan held out his hand.
'Don't you have enough souls?'
'Does a collector ever have enough?'
'I dialed 666, by MISTAKE, I purely wanted to watch CSI with the subtitles, of which I have just missed quarter of an hour of.'
'No you haven't! Its about 10 minutes you've missed, we just went back in time, stupid! Remember?'
Ricky held out his arms in a crucified position, 'Go on, take my bloody soul!'
'Aggghhh!' Satan screamed.
'Take it!'
the door opened fully, the past Ricky walked past shouting through to the living room, walking backwards, not even noticing both time travelers, not even the horned, horny looking one, opened the fridge, pulled out the milk from the milk compartment, ripped open the carton, opened the cupboard, pulled out a glass and walked back out, still shouting.
The present Ricky stood in shock, 'How the Hell didn't I notice that?!'
'Because you're an idiot, Ricky.' Satan paused, 'Thats why.To be honest, I don't even want your soul anymore!'
Ricky stood straight both arms clenched into fists down his waist, 'HEY! don't be like that!'
'I said you could have my soul!'
'But then you did that sign, I'm offended!'
'What sign?' Ricky enquired.
'The crucifix!' Satan exclaimed.
'I've been meaning to ask you that, why exactly are you scared of a shape?'
Satan's eyes rolled, 'I don't know.'
'So you're scared of an emblem that represents a carpenters son, apparently the son of God, nailed to two planks of harmless wood?'
Satan's eyes rolled again.'I never thought of that. I'm better than that! I'm not scared of no shape!'
Ricky sat down on his settee, 'Good, feel better now?'
'Y'know, you're a really good friend, nobodies spoke to me like this for years!' Satan paused as he sat down next to Ricky, 'Mind you most of them were deaf...'
'I can imagine.' Ricky grabbed the remote, 'Right, since I'm your friend now, do us two favors.'
Satan sat close up to Ricky, 'What?'
Ricky moved away from Satan, 'One, Rewind time so we can watch CSI...'
Satan did so, 'And two?'
Ricky stood up again and turned the TV off, the room fell silent, '...And two...'
'Raise the dead?'
'Nope'
'Destroy the universe?'
'Nope.'
'Oh, I give up, what?'
Ricky pointed towards Satan,
'Piss Off.'
(This was written 28 September 2005)
Saturday 3 March 2007
P+Popu #1
Pockets and Purses of Parallel Universes;
Tale One
"No hopes of time pausing, then" He thought; also accordingly. "If only there was some way I could find out a basic insight of his future..." This was an astonishing thought, or so Jack thought anyway, it'd probably had occurred to either of us previously sometimes in our lives, but Jack, well, this was his first time.
You see, Jack was a little of a virgin in philosophy and didn't really think of many worthwhile things about existence, the future and the universe. If he had, he would of gone stark raving bonkers, feeding cats soap carvings cut with a scalpel, like Mr Williams the elder did down the road.
Jack's life wasn't the most exciting life in retrospect, he was born, he got a videogame system, he got a newer videogame system, he had his first kiss (from a clingy girl he couldn't stand), he bought his own video console with the wages that he got for washing used Icelolly-sticks...employed by the asformentioned senile Mr Williams at Number 5, had a girlfriend for three months, got dumped for his female cousin during summer and then moved into his little cramped flat after completing an IT course. Since then, Jack hasn't had much luck, probably to do with his countless procrastinating, but his life seemed so aimless, that wouldn't of helped anyway.
Jack stopped thinking because his head hurt like a lousy construction worker falling off scaffolding, into a cement mixer and being steamrolled (in his new anthro-cement form) onto a new motorway bypass just outside a little village called Duckley. Jack went to check his 'Big-Brother-is-watching-you-free-online-Internet-email-account', scrolled down the page which was an infinity of 'Free Penis Enlargements' and pointless emails instructing him to reply to a reply on a forum that he replied to, based on a reply; approximately 2 months ago.
However, glancing down the page one certain email grabbed his attention. ' Find out the future...TODAY!', Jack moved his cursor hovering over the email title, index finger twitching, about to click,
"one click and all shall be revealed".
In Jack's mind, this feeling of anticipation reminded him of Christmas in the past; Running down the stairs (Scrolling the page), Seeing the presents under the tree (Scrolling through and reading email titles), Skip over to a present (Hover mouse over, his current stage in this story of gripping and thrilling anticipation..) open the present (Click left mouse button), Find out its a jumper from gran that makes him look like a one-eyed, 6 legged candidate for a alien in the new series of Doctor Who (Catches virus).
This time there was no virus, the email contained a hyperlink.
The little quiz master in Jack's head spoke, clenching teeth in a forced grin, "He could still be going for that all-inclusive behind the scenes look at Doctor Who..."
Hyperlink clicked, silence, the little animation on his browser moved, moved, then looped, looped again, looped a little more...Jack cast his mind back to all the times he had 'cooked' something in the microwave and waited;
Only a fool would wait for a meal to be cooked in a microwave, because microwaves and human eyes witnessing them just so happen to trigger a freak space-time dilation, noticed only by those in the path of heat and energy of the microwaves...The numbers never change and the dial doesn't move until 'the watcher' simply looks away from it. One could try to watch the meal get cooked, but its against the 'First Law of Microwave Space-Time Dilation', if one can prove this law wrong, they are truly superhuman and can probably fly around the world to turn back time and save his/hers partner from an earthquake.
The hyperlink loaded, Jack stared at the screen, his eyes started watering, he hadn't closed his eyes for the last two hours. He blinked, his cheeks were flooded with excess water from his tear ducts, He felt a lot better, only problem was that if someone knocked at the door now, it would look like he just got knee'd in the groin or sprayed with Mace by a girl in defence of his actions.
' WWW.CHRONOOGLE.COM ' was the page that had loaded, it was all flashy, calcium white, state of the art design. Jack had never seen such a cleverly designed website, with frames, tabs and NO POPUPS.
In the middle of the page a lone white box sat, asking to be searched. Jack starred at the white box, wiping the excess water off his cheeks, wondering what he should 'Search'
Letters started slowly appearing on the screen and accelerating as Jack typed, "C H R O N O OGLE", the white box three quarters filled with text, Jack clicked on the big button saying 'Search!'; like a giant Satanic beast leaning over his shoulder, urging him to click.
A list of results popped up, most of which had no significance except the third one down, claiming to of originated from a online editable encyclopedia.
Chronoogle from Ticktockopedia;
'Chronoogle...a site established in 2030, using the speed of electricity...advanced broadband...connect and search through time...named after the Greek god Chrono's...Chronoogle has over...hits a day, more popular than...Phil Collins...adapted version of...Slap My Bitch Up in 2065...grand piano'
After reading pages leading onto events that will take place in the near future, astonished at the outcome and conspiracies revealed in the future and reading up the super band comprising of the reanimated corpses of T-Rex, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon, Jack couldn't help but type his name up.
His full name typed into the box, Jack searched away, and found out who his future friends will be, who would be his 5th wife and how many kids he will of brought into the world by the age of 30.
After a full two hours, Jack clicked on one last link, linking to a news item with his name, all of a sudden, the page's layout changed. Everything vanished. Another site turned up on the same URL, asking if he searched for 'penis enlargements' and 'big busty XXX porn'.
Disappointed, Jack leaned back in his chair.
Jack walked into the kitchen, opened the freezer, picked out a microwavable pie and tried to break 'The First Law of Microwave Space-Time Dilation', this didn't work, and stood there for what appeared to him and to be accurately measured as 3 days. The microwave ding'ed, Jack walked out of the kitchen, fork in hand, about to taste the delicacy of the pie.
Jack walked through his doorway eating the pie, Jack looked up. This wasn't his room, his room wasn't a darkroom with a giant wide mirror on one side of the wall.
Jack stood in the spot in shock, fork in hand, 2cm away from his mouth.
"Do not be alarmed, Jack!"
Light was let into the room.
"It was a success!" shouted another voice.
The mirror wall disintegrated, a man in a white coat ran out, "Congratulations Sir! Welcome to the future!"
"The future is now?" Jack questioned.
"You could say that, but your present is then." The man in the white coat replied.
A slender woman screamed through the speakers either side of the wall "Welcome to the main headquarters of Chronoogle!"
"Now..." the man walked over to Jack, hands behind his back, "We know you may not know yet, but you, you my man, you are the creator of the algorithm for Chronoogle."
Jack stared at the man.
"I told them about this, Y'know, I really did." He turned around at the other scientists removing their goggles. "Right, you, when we send you back are going to invent Chronoogle." The man continued. Jack looked confused than ever.
"Y'what?"
"Right, you, when we send you back are going to inv..." Jack interrupted.
"I heard you, I'm just a little confused, how?"
All of a sudden a filing cabinet burst through the wall.
"Hello!" the filing cabinet spoke, wagging its tail. "I will explain all! Come with me!"
The filing cabinet hopped down the corridor skillfully avoiding photocopiers and enormous computers that looked very important, with everyone greeting the cabinet;
"Hello"
"Good Morning!"
"Good Afternoon, sir!"
The cabinet was about to crash right into a door when it opened like a garage, Jack followed, everyone starred at him, cold deep meaningless stares. Jack walked through the passage.
"Ah, Jack!" The filing cabinets top draw moved like a jaw, "We know a lot about you, possibly a lot more that you know." The filing cabinet somehow managed to grin.
A mechanical arm moved out the side of a little hatch in the filing cabinet as it reached over its own top draw and pulled a file out of its own mouth. "Uph, og, fumg, gack."
The filing cabinet paused, as it pulled out the file properly, "Sorry, so rude of me, should never talk with a mouth full."
Jack down, both hands clutching at chair.
The cabinet continued, "Wellll...Jack." the filing cabinet paused "Jack, Jack, Jack..."
Jack replied, "Yes, thats my full name, my mother was a obsessive compulsive."
"I should know." Said the filing cabinet.
"Mmm, yes, you do happen to be a filing cabinet with information of me contained inside of you." Jack paused, realising he may of insulted the green bulky filing cabinet towering over him sat in front of the desk.
"You see, Jack." the filing cabinet continued, "I'm you."
Jack stared.
"There was an accident one day just outside my house whilst I was running without looking, I can't remember why," the filing cabinet paused, "and next thing I knew, I was brought alive during a experiment as a a filing cabinet and with all this information contained in me, I was able to know the secrets of space, time, the Internet, the world and the universe, hence inventing Chronoogle."
Jacks eyebrows rose half a centimetre. The future cabinet'y version of Jack and Vintage Jack sat in silence.
Jack lowered the power of grip against his chair, moved his left foot and began to run. Jack ran down the corridor with everyone looking at him strangely...again crashing into at least five people holding mugs of coffee and tripping over paperwork on the floor, Jack continued running into the room where he had originally materialized from before he was mentored by his future filing cabinet self.
The filing cabinet hopped towards the entrance, "Jack, I understand, I knew how I reacted when I saw myself. Its a shock, I know, but don't go!"
Jack vanished, still running.
The scientists gathered round the filing cabinet, "We don't know where the teleportation was calibrated, he could arrive anywhere."
The filing cabinets head moved up, "Shit, now I remember."
The policeman looked at Mr Williams car, holding a notebook. "So you say, Mr Williams, He came from nowhere?"
"Yes, sir, he just, appeared."
The policeman licked the end of his pencil "Right, what you're saying, this man you ran over, materialized running out of his front door?"
"Yes." The policeman's eyebrow rose half a centimetre.
The policeman picked up his walkie-talky, "Phone the RSPCA, we've got some cats coughing bubbles to take care of."
Tale One
'Chronoogle'
By
Martyn Eker
Jack sat in his room pondering his existence; why he was born, what he will do, what will be his purpose? He looked at the clock in the corner of the room, the hands moved accordingly.By
Martyn Eker
"No hopes of time pausing, then" He thought; also accordingly. "If only there was some way I could find out a basic insight of his future..." This was an astonishing thought, or so Jack thought anyway, it'd probably had occurred to either of us previously sometimes in our lives, but Jack, well, this was his first time.
You see, Jack was a little of a virgin in philosophy and didn't really think of many worthwhile things about existence, the future and the universe. If he had, he would of gone stark raving bonkers, feeding cats soap carvings cut with a scalpel, like Mr Williams the elder did down the road.
Jack's life wasn't the most exciting life in retrospect, he was born, he got a videogame system, he got a newer videogame system, he had his first kiss (from a clingy girl he couldn't stand), he bought his own video console with the wages that he got for washing used Icelolly-sticks...employed by the asformentioned senile Mr Williams at Number 5, had a girlfriend for three months, got dumped for his female cousin during summer and then moved into his little cramped flat after completing an IT course. Since then, Jack hasn't had much luck, probably to do with his countless procrastinating, but his life seemed so aimless, that wouldn't of helped anyway.
Jack stopped thinking because his head hurt like a lousy construction worker falling off scaffolding, into a cement mixer and being steamrolled (in his new anthro-cement form) onto a new motorway bypass just outside a little village called Duckley. Jack went to check his 'Big-Brother-is-watching-you-free-online-Internet-email-account', scrolled down the page which was an infinity of 'Free Penis Enlargements' and pointless emails instructing him to reply to a reply on a forum that he replied to, based on a reply; approximately 2 months ago.
However, glancing down the page one certain email grabbed his attention. ' Find out the future...TODAY!', Jack moved his cursor hovering over the email title, index finger twitching, about to click,
"one click and all shall be revealed".
In Jack's mind, this feeling of anticipation reminded him of Christmas in the past; Running down the stairs (Scrolling the page), Seeing the presents under the tree (Scrolling through and reading email titles), Skip over to a present (Hover mouse over, his current stage in this story of gripping and thrilling anticipation..) open the present (Click left mouse button), Find out its a jumper from gran that makes him look like a one-eyed, 6 legged candidate for a alien in the new series of Doctor Who (Catches virus).
This time there was no virus, the email contained a hyperlink.
The little quiz master in Jack's head spoke, clenching teeth in a forced grin, "He could still be going for that all-inclusive behind the scenes look at Doctor Who..."
Hyperlink clicked, silence, the little animation on his browser moved, moved, then looped, looped again, looped a little more...Jack cast his mind back to all the times he had 'cooked' something in the microwave and waited;
Only a fool would wait for a meal to be cooked in a microwave, because microwaves and human eyes witnessing them just so happen to trigger a freak space-time dilation, noticed only by those in the path of heat and energy of the microwaves...The numbers never change and the dial doesn't move until 'the watcher' simply looks away from it. One could try to watch the meal get cooked, but its against the 'First Law of Microwave Space-Time Dilation', if one can prove this law wrong, they are truly superhuman and can probably fly around the world to turn back time and save his/hers partner from an earthquake.
The hyperlink loaded, Jack stared at the screen, his eyes started watering, he hadn't closed his eyes for the last two hours. He blinked, his cheeks were flooded with excess water from his tear ducts, He felt a lot better, only problem was that if someone knocked at the door now, it would look like he just got knee'd in the groin or sprayed with Mace by a girl in defence of his actions.
' WWW.CHRONOOGLE.COM ' was the page that had loaded, it was all flashy, calcium white, state of the art design. Jack had never seen such a cleverly designed website, with frames, tabs and NO POPUPS.
In the middle of the page a lone white box sat, asking to be searched. Jack starred at the white box, wiping the excess water off his cheeks, wondering what he should 'Search'
Letters started slowly appearing on the screen and accelerating as Jack typed, "C H R O N O OGLE", the white box three quarters filled with text, Jack clicked on the big button saying 'Search!'; like a giant Satanic beast leaning over his shoulder, urging him to click.
A list of results popped up, most of which had no significance except the third one down, claiming to of originated from a online editable encyclopedia.
Chronoogle from Ticktockopedia;
'Chronoogle...a site established in 2030, using the speed of electricity...advanced broadband...connect and search through time...named after the Greek god Chrono's...Chronoogle has over...hits a day, more popular than...Phil Collins...adapted version of...Slap My Bitch Up in 2065...grand piano'
After reading pages leading onto events that will take place in the near future, astonished at the outcome and conspiracies revealed in the future and reading up the super band comprising of the reanimated corpses of T-Rex, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon, Jack couldn't help but type his name up.
His full name typed into the box, Jack searched away, and found out who his future friends will be, who would be his 5th wife and how many kids he will of brought into the world by the age of 30.
After a full two hours, Jack clicked on one last link, linking to a news item with his name, all of a sudden, the page's layout changed. Everything vanished. Another site turned up on the same URL, asking if he searched for 'penis enlargements' and 'big busty XXX porn'.
Disappointed, Jack leaned back in his chair.
Jack walked into the kitchen, opened the freezer, picked out a microwavable pie and tried to break 'The First Law of Microwave Space-Time Dilation', this didn't work, and stood there for what appeared to him and to be accurately measured as 3 days. The microwave ding'ed, Jack walked out of the kitchen, fork in hand, about to taste the delicacy of the pie.
Jack walked through his doorway eating the pie, Jack looked up. This wasn't his room, his room wasn't a darkroom with a giant wide mirror on one side of the wall.
Jack stood in the spot in shock, fork in hand, 2cm away from his mouth.
"Do not be alarmed, Jack!"
Light was let into the room.
"It was a success!" shouted another voice.
The mirror wall disintegrated, a man in a white coat ran out, "Congratulations Sir! Welcome to the future!"
"The future is now?" Jack questioned.
"You could say that, but your present is then." The man in the white coat replied.
A slender woman screamed through the speakers either side of the wall "Welcome to the main headquarters of Chronoogle!"
"Now..." the man walked over to Jack, hands behind his back, "We know you may not know yet, but you, you my man, you are the creator of the algorithm for Chronoogle."
Jack stared at the man.
"I told them about this, Y'know, I really did." He turned around at the other scientists removing their goggles. "Right, you, when we send you back are going to invent Chronoogle." The man continued. Jack looked confused than ever.
"Y'what?"
"Right, you, when we send you back are going to inv..." Jack interrupted.
"I heard you, I'm just a little confused, how?"
All of a sudden a filing cabinet burst through the wall.
"Hello!" the filing cabinet spoke, wagging its tail. "I will explain all! Come with me!"
The filing cabinet hopped down the corridor skillfully avoiding photocopiers and enormous computers that looked very important, with everyone greeting the cabinet;
"Hello"
"Good Morning!"
"Good Afternoon, sir!"
The cabinet was about to crash right into a door when it opened like a garage, Jack followed, everyone starred at him, cold deep meaningless stares. Jack walked through the passage.
"Ah, Jack!" The filing cabinets top draw moved like a jaw, "We know a lot about you, possibly a lot more that you know." The filing cabinet somehow managed to grin.
A mechanical arm moved out the side of a little hatch in the filing cabinet as it reached over its own top draw and pulled a file out of its own mouth. "Uph, og, fumg, gack."
The filing cabinet paused, as it pulled out the file properly, "Sorry, so rude of me, should never talk with a mouth full."
Jack down, both hands clutching at chair.
The cabinet continued, "Wellll...Jack." the filing cabinet paused "Jack, Jack, Jack..."
Jack replied, "Yes, thats my full name, my mother was a obsessive compulsive."
"I should know." Said the filing cabinet.
"Mmm, yes, you do happen to be a filing cabinet with information of me contained inside of you." Jack paused, realising he may of insulted the green bulky filing cabinet towering over him sat in front of the desk.
"You see, Jack." the filing cabinet continued, "I'm you."
Jack stared.
"There was an accident one day just outside my house whilst I was running without looking, I can't remember why," the filing cabinet paused, "and next thing I knew, I was brought alive during a experiment as a a filing cabinet and with all this information contained in me, I was able to know the secrets of space, time, the Internet, the world and the universe, hence inventing Chronoogle."
Jacks eyebrows rose half a centimetre. The future cabinet'y version of Jack and Vintage Jack sat in silence.
Jack lowered the power of grip against his chair, moved his left foot and began to run. Jack ran down the corridor with everyone looking at him strangely...again crashing into at least five people holding mugs of coffee and tripping over paperwork on the floor, Jack continued running into the room where he had originally materialized from before he was mentored by his future filing cabinet self.
The filing cabinet hopped towards the entrance, "Jack, I understand, I knew how I reacted when I saw myself. Its a shock, I know, but don't go!"
Jack vanished, still running.
The scientists gathered round the filing cabinet, "We don't know where the teleportation was calibrated, he could arrive anywhere."
The filing cabinets head moved up, "Shit, now I remember."
The policeman looked at Mr Williams car, holding a notebook. "So you say, Mr Williams, He came from nowhere?"
"Yes, sir, he just, appeared."
The policeman licked the end of his pencil "Right, what you're saying, this man you ran over, materialized running out of his front door?"
"Yes." The policeman's eyebrow rose half a centimetre.
The policeman picked up his walkie-talky, "Phone the RSPCA, we've got some cats coughing bubbles to take care of."
Monday 26 February 2007
Friday 23 February 2007
Quantum Freker
I was thinking today, how nice it would be to be 'leaped' into like in the show Quantum Leap.
To let some nice bloke, to jump inside my body and do stuff that I find hard to do, or has difficulty in doing.
You see the chap on the right is Dr Sam Beckett that randomly jumps into peoples bodies in important crisis's in their lives throughout time, changing the future, for the better, to correct 'mistakes' that happened in time.
The chap on the left is Al, who is Sam's constant holographic helper from Earth, who smokes Cuban cigars and gives advice based on the time-line calculating machine Ziggy.
So, hopefully, you get the idea of the show and plot, Sam jumps into peoples bodies, 'corrects' things that went wrong in the future, through being forced into moments in peoples lives in times of peril and difficulty, involving family problems, creative blocks or just having to do something that will change history, no matter how small.
Good idea. Such a good idea. I want to be 'leaped' into.
Imagine, that you had someone to do all of those tasks that you find difficult and get a headache over and end up procrastinating, well, all that can be changed.
...with a Quantum Leap!
Maybe Sam could do all my work! To make me a success, so then, I don't have to do much as the stuff that Sam did in my body, will be mine! Hahahah!
And I will be famous! I'm waiting Sam!
I'm waiting...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sam materializes in my body in my room, whilst typing up a blog post.
Sam: Oh Boy.
Sam looks in mirror, sees a unshaven, strange looking man with hair growing over his eyes, Sam tries to blow the hair out of his eyes, but fails, Al materializes .
Al: Ziggy says your mission is to get this mans 'Project CT' comic written.
Sam: Whats Project CT?
Al: It'll be the greatest sci-fi comedy comic the world would ever see, poking fun out of many areas of popular culture...if you get it written.
Sam: Wow, thats hard. I have to write a graphic novel based on these untidy notes?
Al: Ziggy also says that you should get him a girlfriend.
Sam: Uh...I'd rather write the graphic novel, 'might be easier.
To let some nice bloke, to jump inside my body and do stuff that I find hard to do, or has difficulty in doing.
You see the chap on the right is Dr Sam Beckett that randomly jumps into peoples bodies in important crisis's in their lives throughout time, changing the future, for the better, to correct 'mistakes' that happened in time.
The chap on the left is Al, who is Sam's constant holographic helper from Earth, who smokes Cuban cigars and gives advice based on the time-line calculating machine Ziggy.
So, hopefully, you get the idea of the show and plot, Sam jumps into peoples bodies, 'corrects' things that went wrong in the future, through being forced into moments in peoples lives in times of peril and difficulty, involving family problems, creative blocks or just having to do something that will change history, no matter how small.
Good idea. Such a good idea. I want to be 'leaped' into.
Imagine, that you had someone to do all of those tasks that you find difficult and get a headache over and end up procrastinating, well, all that can be changed.
...with a Quantum Leap!
Maybe Sam could do all my work! To make me a success, so then, I don't have to do much as the stuff that Sam did in my body, will be mine! Hahahah!
And I will be famous! I'm waiting Sam!
I'm waiting...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sam materializes in my body in my room, whilst typing up a blog post.
Sam: Oh Boy.
Sam looks in mirror, sees a unshaven, strange looking man with hair growing over his eyes, Sam tries to blow the hair out of his eyes, but fails, Al materializes .
Al: Ziggy says your mission is to get this mans 'Project CT' comic written.
Sam: Whats Project CT?
Al: It'll be the greatest sci-fi comedy comic the world would ever see, poking fun out of many areas of popular culture...if you get it written.
Sam: Wow, thats hard. I have to write a graphic novel based on these untidy notes?
Al: Ziggy also says that you should get him a girlfriend.
Sam: Uh...I'd rather write the graphic novel, 'might be easier.
Thursday 15 February 2007
Harry Potter...chess?
Really, just when I get over one bloody hate of Russell Brand (He was funny in the Brit awards and sitcom The Abbey) another past hate countlessly haunts my television.
This being...the demonic, craptastic Harry Potter Chess
I mean, FFS Chess?
This is just shit. Chess, the most boring game in the world is being packaged to be 'cool' with all of those sad people with no imaginations to buy.
WTF is this crap?
I mean, surely there must of been some kind of meeting behind this crap idea.
Meeting begins.
Exec: Right, so we've made cards and spinning tops using manga style to make them look cool. Mangas getting old! We need something new! Now we need to make the most boring game in the world exciting! To give a new edge to it!
Man: How about...chess?
Exec: Jesus Christ! You're promoted Williams! what a great idea! Now all that we need is for it to be shamelessly sold through some franchise. Whats hip and the kids are into now?
Man: Uh...what about Big Brother?
Exec: Take him, men.
Two shade wearing bulky men pick up man and slowly open window and throw him out.
Man: Arrrrgggghhhh!!!
Exec: Now, Jones, have you any ideas?
Jones: Uh...what about...Harry Potter?
Exec: Fan-fucking-tastic! Harry Potter! no doubt that J.K. Rowling will sellout.
Jones: Do I get promoted?
Exec: No. Take him men!
Jones gets picked up by two men with shades and thrown out the window.
Exec: Now, what say, Williams, that me and you keep this a secret between us?
Williams: Uh...y-y-y-yes.
Exec: Take him, men. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
A strike of lightning shoots across the skyscraper as Williams falls to his death, the monster is created; that being 'Harry Potter Chess'.
This being...the demonic, craptastic Harry Potter Chess
I mean, FFS Chess?
This is just shit. Chess, the most boring game in the world is being packaged to be 'cool' with all of those sad people with no imaginations to buy.
WTF is this crap?
I mean, surely there must of been some kind of meeting behind this crap idea.
Meeting begins.
Exec: Right, so we've made cards and spinning tops using manga style to make them look cool. Mangas getting old! We need something new! Now we need to make the most boring game in the world exciting! To give a new edge to it!
Man: How about...chess?
Exec: Jesus Christ! You're promoted Williams! what a great idea! Now all that we need is for it to be shamelessly sold through some franchise. Whats hip and the kids are into now?
Man: Uh...what about Big Brother?
Exec: Take him, men.
Two shade wearing bulky men pick up man and slowly open window and throw him out.
Man: Arrrrgggghhhh!!!
Exec: Now, Jones, have you any ideas?
Jones: Uh...what about...Harry Potter?
Exec: Fan-fucking-tastic! Harry Potter! no doubt that J.K. Rowling will sellout.
Jones: Do I get promoted?
Exec: No. Take him men!
Jones gets picked up by two men with shades and thrown out the window.
Exec: Now, what say, Williams, that me and you keep this a secret between us?
Williams: Uh...y-y-y-yes.
Exec: Take him, men. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
A strike of lightning shoots across the skyscraper as Williams falls to his death, the monster is created; that being 'Harry Potter Chess'.
Friday 9 February 2007
Marc Craste strikes again
Marc Craste is a genius. I can't say I'm EXACTLY sure what he does, I believe as a director of animation, its all his vision, he probably designs the original concept art. But here is Marc Craste's new animation, after 'Jojo in the Stars' and The National Lottery's 'Bag of Smiles' heres his new one for Lloyds. Its almost a sequel, Its great, trust me.
Link!
Link!
Thursday 8 February 2007
That was the best day of my life, ever...
I woke up an after going back to sleep this morning. Why you ask. Let me tell you, 'the Spanish party'.
Other than that, I turned on GMTV.
"Snow. Do not go out, South Wales covered with snow."
So I looked outside my window, snow, not a great deal, more like frost, closed the curtains and had breakfast and my cup of tea, then I carried on watching GMTV.
Briefly chatting on the internet with my friend Lilwolf, we both talked about the snow and what the conditions had caused.
Eventually, it was time to go 9.15 to go to uni. I opened the curtains.
WOW.
It looked like a film set from a Christmas movie. The snow looked so...beautiful.
Seeing a old fashioned place like Wrexham covered in snow was amazing and the little train station looked amazing like out of a chocolate box illustration. I was so happy to be walking in the snow in this beautiful landscape that I even doodled smiley faces on the top of the snow covered bins all the path down to the art and design block of the university...
I arrived in the room, half the class had turned up, and apparently whilst I was walking down, our tutor, Yyvone told us to go to a media lecture.
I already knew about this lecture, but because it was during uni time, decided not to go.
Just so you know, the lecturer and presentation was from a man called Magnus Scheving. This man, from Iceland had started a program where he acts as a very healthy and sporty man, in a jogging suit and with a thin two parted mustache and hat and goggles, he also wears blue with white and black stripes down the side. He lives in a town thats Lazy.
Thats right. I'm talking Sportacus from Lazytown.
Hows that? I was going to a presentation by the guy who played Sportacus. Mainly about Lazytown, this was in my opinion, amazing. Cult'ily amazing.
I have to admit too, the man is a genius. Hes made Lazytown work into every kind of merchandise and medium. It started as a book, to a series of books, to a musical, into a TV show, from a TV show into a spin off children's challenge show, into a cinema, into a health plan, into food merchandise, to sport goods, to help parents, to fill a gap that was in the market.
And this guy, he was just nice. I mean, with all that, you'd expect him to look down on everyone, but he didn't he was a really nice guy. Its just a shame he was so ill.
I'll never look away at Lazytown again. It is good, It probably has changed the world, he'd planned and tested it over and over again and countlessly developed the idea.
I've done that too with 'Project CT'; I thought I was doing wrong spending about 7 years on ONE IDEA and developing it and keeping it secret for that long. But I haven't, he did too.
Project CT isn't a children's programme, but as Magnus said;
"Any idea is a good idea."
I even had a tiny little chat with him after the lecture and asked him was it a good idea to keep developing a idea in private for so long?
I was glad that he said;
"Yes. Don't release anything until its ready. Until you feel comfortable with it, but make sure theres a gap in the market for it, just keep, keep on going, no matter how crazy the idea is, someone'll pick up on it when you realize just how much work you've put into it."
(Believe me, theres a gap in the market for CT)
I would of talked to him last, but I had to ask this marketing and creative genius that question, okay, he did cover it a bit during the presentation, but I had to ask, personally, to show that I had an idea, I explained what I've done so far, and he replied;
"You're doing the right thing, just keep coming back to it, over and over and over again. Have a plan and you have something. You have a prototype to explain what you're trying to do."
The guy was ill, poor man. He'd been puking more or less since he got off the plane and felt ill throughout the presentation, I said 'thanks after my brief two minutes with the man and went back with my mates to the art block.
It really made me think. What to tweak within project CT and making the 'Pilot comic' is a good idea.
I know CT will be impossible to sell (or hard to convince someone to buy), but there is currently a gap in the market, there will be and is currently nothing else like it, trust me.
And nobody ever 'dis Lazytown; Because we may of all turned out and been better people because of watching it when we were younger.
Oh, and Ian got his signature.
! I want a scan of that. !
GO! :D
I shall leave you with this:
Other than that, I turned on GMTV.
"Snow. Do not go out, South Wales covered with snow."
So I looked outside my window, snow, not a great deal, more like frost, closed the curtains and had breakfast and my cup of tea, then I carried on watching GMTV.
Briefly chatting on the internet with my friend Lilwolf, we both talked about the snow and what the conditions had caused.
Eventually, it was time to go 9.15 to go to uni. I opened the curtains.
WOW.
It looked like a film set from a Christmas movie. The snow looked so...beautiful.
Seeing a old fashioned place like Wrexham covered in snow was amazing and the little train station looked amazing like out of a chocolate box illustration. I was so happy to be walking in the snow in this beautiful landscape that I even doodled smiley faces on the top of the snow covered bins all the path down to the art and design block of the university...
I arrived in the room, half the class had turned up, and apparently whilst I was walking down, our tutor, Yyvone told us to go to a media lecture.
I already knew about this lecture, but because it was during uni time, decided not to go.
Just so you know, the lecturer and presentation was from a man called Magnus Scheving. This man, from Iceland had started a program where he acts as a very healthy and sporty man, in a jogging suit and with a thin two parted mustache and hat and goggles, he also wears blue with white and black stripes down the side. He lives in a town thats Lazy.
Thats right. I'm talking Sportacus from Lazytown.
Hows that? I was going to a presentation by the guy who played Sportacus. Mainly about Lazytown, this was in my opinion, amazing. Cult'ily amazing.I have to admit too, the man is a genius. Hes made Lazytown work into every kind of merchandise and medium. It started as a book, to a series of books, to a musical, into a TV show, from a TV show into a spin off children's challenge show, into a cinema, into a health plan, into food merchandise, to sport goods, to help parents, to fill a gap that was in the market.
And this guy, he was just nice. I mean, with all that, you'd expect him to look down on everyone, but he didn't he was a really nice guy. Its just a shame he was so ill.
I'll never look away at Lazytown again. It is good, It probably has changed the world, he'd planned and tested it over and over again and countlessly developed the idea.
I've done that too with 'Project CT'; I thought I was doing wrong spending about 7 years on ONE IDEA and developing it and keeping it secret for that long. But I haven't, he did too.
Project CT isn't a children's programme, but as Magnus said;
"Any idea is a good idea."
I even had a tiny little chat with him after the lecture and asked him was it a good idea to keep developing a idea in private for so long?
I was glad that he said;
"Yes. Don't release anything until its ready. Until you feel comfortable with it, but make sure theres a gap in the market for it, just keep, keep on going, no matter how crazy the idea is, someone'll pick up on it when you realize just how much work you've put into it."
(Believe me, theres a gap in the market for CT)
I would of talked to him last, but I had to ask this marketing and creative genius that question, okay, he did cover it a bit during the presentation, but I had to ask, personally, to show that I had an idea, I explained what I've done so far, and he replied;
"You're doing the right thing, just keep coming back to it, over and over and over again. Have a plan and you have something. You have a prototype to explain what you're trying to do."
The guy was ill, poor man. He'd been puking more or less since he got off the plane and felt ill throughout the presentation, I said 'thanks after my brief two minutes with the man and went back with my mates to the art block.
It really made me think. What to tweak within project CT and making the 'Pilot comic' is a good idea.
I know CT will be impossible to sell (or hard to convince someone to buy), but there is currently a gap in the market, there will be and is currently nothing else like it, trust me.
And nobody ever 'dis Lazytown; Because we may of all turned out and been better people because of watching it when we were younger.
Oh, and Ian got his signature.
! I want a scan of that. !
GO! :D
I shall leave you with this:
Friday 26 January 2007
Escape from Wrexham
"Hey man, its me, Hair Russel. Or Freker 'Snake' Pissedkin. Christ! agggh!
I've got to 'Escape from Wrexham' today using the form of post apocalyptic metal boxes called 'trains'. All this freaking new technology goes over my head, just give me a guys neck to break purely with my eye patch, its far better to understand.
As much as I hate freaking trains its gotta be done. Agh. Just give me something simple to do like rip a crocodiles head off with my bare teeth.
With a hangover in my head that could blow my head up over the next 24 hours, I have to pick up and rescue the PS2 and possibly the Xbox and come back again, in one piece.
2007.
North Wales, Wrexham
Freker is walled in a maximum security university campus.
Breaking out is impossible,
Going to Blackpool is insane.
I've gotta go to this godforsaken place; Blackpool, a converted town that now holds all the nation of Britain's criminals, ASBOs and scum of the Earth. I'll just simply tear their pubes off and wear them as a toupee.
Rescuing the PS2 and Xbox from the gangs of Fleetwood should be pretty damned easy, agh. As long as I take my trusty pistol with me and take out the 'Codhead' gang and the 'Chavs' and avoid the damn freaking Wii devices. Those freaking cig adverts freak me out too. I'm not 'hooked', I just find it slightly more relaxing to have one whilst smashing a guys kneecaps in and watch him cry."
I've got to 'Escape from Wrexham' today using the form of post apocalyptic metal boxes called 'trains'. All this freaking new technology goes over my head, just give me a guys neck to break purely with my eye patch, its far better to understand.
As much as I hate freaking trains its gotta be done. Agh. Just give me something simple to do like rip a crocodiles head off with my bare teeth.
With a hangover in my head that could blow my head up over the next 24 hours, I have to pick up and rescue the PS2 and possibly the Xbox and come back again, in one piece.
2007.North Wales, Wrexham
Freker is walled in a maximum security university campus.
Breaking out is impossible,
Going to Blackpool is insane.
I've gotta go to this godforsaken place; Blackpool, a converted town that now holds all the nation of Britain's criminals, ASBOs and scum of the Earth. I'll just simply tear their pubes off and wear them as a toupee.
Rescuing the PS2 and Xbox from the gangs of Fleetwood should be pretty damned easy, agh. As long as I take my trusty pistol with me and take out the 'Codhead' gang and the 'Chavs' and avoid the damn freaking Wii devices. Those freaking cig adverts freak me out too. I'm not 'hooked', I just find it slightly more relaxing to have one whilst smashing a guys kneecaps in and watch him cry."
Wednesday 17 January 2007
Everybody needs good...goths
Ha! Heres something funny I've just noticed, that the short and horizontally challenged depressed girl Bree, from Neighbours has had it. Shes become a GOTH!
"In desperate need of a new identity, Bree has begun experimenting. After a brief flirtation with the Paris Hilton look, she has realised that there is really only one way forward for all disaffected and disillusioned young adolescents. Brianna Timmins is now a Goth."
This, to...
OH, MY, GOD.
"In desperate need of a new identity, Bree has begun experimenting. After a brief flirtation with the Paris Hilton look, she has realised that there is really only one way forward for all disaffected and disillusioned young adolescents. Brianna Timmins is now a Goth."
This, to...
OH, MY, GOD.Yes, thats right, Bree from Neighbours has become a Goth, you may know this, but I have no idea and haven't seen Neighbours for about a year.
This is incredibly shocking as she looks like:
This is incredibly shocking as she looks like:
- A Rocky Horror (Picture) Show reject
- Some girl like from a Tim Burton film 'Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, beetlejuice'
- A possible SG (You know what I'm on about, guys)
- Matt Lucas
- A drag artist with a cheeky grin
- She just woke up during a postmortem
- Emo
- The cheese she named herself after
- Nina Cortex from 'Crash Twinsanity'
- A female weighty drummer
- She would bite your tongue off for laughs
- A lesbian
- A Bisexual
- A scary porcelain doll
- Scary alternate version of the lead singer from Evanescence
- She goes to the 'Tashe
- She Never washes
- She Got attacked by a black inkwell
- She Discovered oil
- She has a husky voice, like a man
- Doctor Girlfriend from Venture Brothers
- A mime
- She's colour blind
- She sneezed next to a tub of talcum powder
- She chewed the end of black biros
- She likes licorice
- Bertie Bassett
- Marylin Manson as a boy
- The girl on the video in The Ring
- The Martians human disguise in Mars Attacks!
- She belongs in a dysfunctional family sitcom
- Micheal Jackson
Personally; I would of liked to snigger at the 'Paris Hilton' look too.
Tuesday 16 January 2007
The Thing
How would you get a child to do something it doesn't want to?
OF COURSE! Stereotypically categorize them believing its BAD for them!
May I present...(through being sent a link via a friend on Messenger...)gellibaff!
CLICK LINK BEFORE CONTINUING!
Seriously, go look at that site. Thats right, a safe mixture to put in a bath, to make it into goo!
Wow. Thats a sure exciting development in the science and biology research industry, I'm sure theres a lot of other things to be researched and developed in this world.
I mean, if the consistency is right, you should be able to make your own remake of the scene where Neo wakes up from The Matrix! AWESOME!
*Presentation suggestion
Yes, Matrix comparisons are relevant to this article...(again)
OF COURSE! Stereotypically categorize them believing its BAD for them!
May I present...(through being sent a link via a friend on Messenger...)gellibaff!
CLICK LINK BEFORE CONTINUING!
Seriously, go look at that site. Thats right, a safe mixture to put in a bath, to make it into goo!
Wow. Thats a sure exciting development in the science and biology research industry, I'm sure theres a lot of other things to be researched and developed in this world.
I mean, if the consistency is right, you should be able to make your own remake of the scene where Neo wakes up from The Matrix! AWESOME!
*Presentation suggestionYes, Matrix comparisons are relevant to this article...(again)
Sunday 14 January 2007
MySpace is watching you
Hey ho, there we are all making friends with a guy called 'Tom Anderson'. Well, no, not making friends, its more like 'forced to', why are we forced to have 'Tom' as a friend, grinning like a git?
Because people, I believe he is not real, and 'Tom' on MySpace is more or less a system of control. Like Big Brother, (no, not the TV show that embarrases C list celebrities or gormless camp or screaming members of the public...) 1984's Big Brother, of which the TV shows title is based on. Hell, you might as well have him as your first friend.
Big Brother wants to be your friend
"Mr...Anderson!"
Because people, I believe he is not real, and 'Tom' on MySpace is more or less a system of control. Like Big Brother, (no, not the TV show that embarrases C list celebrities or gormless camp or screaming members of the public...) 1984's Big Brother, of which the TV shows title is based on. Hell, you might as well have him as your first friend.
Big Brother wants to be your friend'Tom' full name happens to be 'Tom Anderson'. Hes always there as the little chap looking like he's masturbating at his desk in the corner with some kind of scientific formula on a white board to make a working time machine like Victorians once tried at the background. When you first sign up onto Myspace. That grinning git, eh? So he owned (Rupert Murdoch has it now) Myspace, yeah? He started it?
Blimey, isn't that a coincidence that Tom Anderson is a geek on computers much like, 'Thomas A Anderson' from 'The Matrix'? If you have a look at Wikipedia's article and on 'Tom Anderson' you'll find some interesting theories. Some think 'Tom' is a piece of PR, much like Barry Scott for Cilit Bang.
Blimey, isn't that a coincidence that Tom Anderson is a geek on computers much like, 'Thomas A Anderson' from 'The Matrix'? If you have a look at Wikipedia's article and on 'Tom Anderson' you'll find some interesting theories. Some think 'Tom' is a piece of PR, much like Barry Scott for Cilit Bang.
"Mr...Anderson!"Ahh, don't you just wish that some day...somehow... somebody will set us free from the artificial socializing utility that is MySpace, maybe one day, One will come to set us free.
"You have 1 new friend, Tom"
Saturday 13 January 2007
Not doing the title of the blog
Yep, thats right!
No procrastinating for me today!
I can't explain what I've been doing, but it involves a printer!
No, I haven't been doing, that.
I've been testing and printing with my brand new Lexmark printer, which talks to me, a bit like KITT...
Unfortunately, the printer doesn't surpass the ability to say (In a very monotonous loud electronic voice) ;
"Printing started..." shortly followed by the predictable, "Printing Complete."
and the seminal,"...Please insert paper into holder."
Admittedly the first time the printer 'spoke' it made me bloody jump. I hit my knee against my rather cramped desk and looked at the printers power button which was red and winking;
"...Please insert paper into holder."
The above actions of the printer may of possibly been built in for people with printer fetishes, with dominant sounding masculine 1930's broadcasters. But didn't really suit me, just made me jump.
Although it might be considered 'cool' every time you print for the printer to 'speak' out loud what its doing, the 'virrrs' and 'clunks' also explain to me its printing also, another way to tell is when your paper starts vanishing into the mouth of the beast. Its not like its going into another dimension or something.
"Ha. Ha. I will send your hard worked essay into another dimension..."
No, the printer does not say that, nor does it make me a cup of tea.
However it does scan, copy, fax and (duhh) print, so its all good, I suppose.
No procrastinating for me today!
I can't explain what I've been doing, but it involves a printer!
No, I haven't been doing, that.
I've been testing and printing with my brand new Lexmark printer, which talks to me, a bit like KITT...
Unfortunately, the printer doesn't surpass the ability to say (In a very monotonous loud electronic voice) ;
"Printing started..." shortly followed by the predictable, "Printing Complete."
and the seminal,"...Please insert paper into holder."
Admittedly the first time the printer 'spoke' it made me bloody jump. I hit my knee against my rather cramped desk and looked at the printers power button which was red and winking;
"...Please insert paper into holder."
The above actions of the printer may of possibly been built in for people with printer fetishes, with dominant sounding masculine 1930's broadcasters. But didn't really suit me, just made me jump.
Although it might be considered 'cool' every time you print for the printer to 'speak' out loud what its doing, the 'virrrs' and 'clunks' also explain to me its printing also, another way to tell is when your paper starts vanishing into the mouth of the beast. Its not like its going into another dimension or something.
"Ha. Ha. I will send your hard worked essay into another dimension..."
No, the printer does not say that, nor does it make me a cup of tea.
However it does scan, copy, fax and (duhh) print, so its all good, I suppose.
Phileas Fogg's Evil Crisps.
So I bought some cheap crisps for lunch, mmm, Phileas Fogg tortillas, that'll be nice, ooh, Peppercorn and Cheese flavoured, eh?
(Unfortunately, at this moment I hadn't discovered what Peppercorn and Cheese even tastes like.) To my horror! Shock! One of these could kill! VERY VERY HOT! (For a damn crisp, anyway.)
Just look at them. Tempting, Tantalizing and pure EVIL in a packet.
If tastes could kill. I'm not saying these are awful to eat. They're actually, really, really nice. However, you do need a drink after eating at least THREE of the damned things.
Of course, this makes you go to the toilet an awful lot, which isn't too great.
So, there the tortillas remain, to be eaten another day. Spoiled, but not defeated.
Friday 12 January 2007
Thursday 11 January 2007
Back to Youtube (Cotton Eye Joe)
aah, just when you think that one of TVs golden moments are never going to be shown before...
Sunday 7 January 2007
Maneater...sung by an old bloke
This is Man Eater, Nellie Furtado's song that surprised us all last summer.
Its doing that trick again; Only this time, with Jim from Eastenders.
And if I can find it, I'll also try to get Bob from Emmerdale singing Firestarter...
Its doing that trick again; Only this time, with Jim from Eastenders.
And if I can find it, I'll also try to get Bob from Emmerdale singing Firestarter...
Kill ...Something
Torchwood: Frekerized
(The Torchwood staff walk into the entrance of the Hub. They all crowd around the meeting table on the first floor, realizing that they let a pizza go cold. They all stare at it until Gwen speaks up.)
Gwen: Oor nor! Jack! Theres a cowld pizza here!
(Gwen points at cold pizza on table)
Jack: Hot damn! there is, Gwen!
(Jack points at table enthusiastically for no real apparent reason)
Ianto: I'll just go and reheat it.
(Ianto walks out of Meeting Room to and falls down the stairs on a loose tube of 'lube)
Toshiko: We have no oven. Nor microwave.
(Owen steals pizza from Toshiko's hands)
Owen: Ahh, you idiots! We can just cook it in the fucking rift inducer!
(Owen inserts pizza in rift-inducer)
Jack: Thats not a good idea. That is NOT a good idea...I tell you, Owen!!!! thats not a...
(Jack points at Owen angrily as if Jack is the law, and thats that.)
(Owen inserts the cold pizza into the rift inducer, the Hub starts shaking and trembling.)
Gwen: Oh-wen! (Gwen gasps) What have you dorn?
The team all blackout.
(Torchwood intro plays)
Team is woken by a old cleaner mopping up.
Jack: Where the hell are we?
Cleaner: Well, young, mysterious, stereotypically, yank-man, you're in 'the shop'.
Jack: 'The shop'?
Cleaner: The only place on Earth to buy things of course!
Gwen: Whaay-t, are you trying to sahy that this is the own-lee place that we can buy things?
Cleaner: Everything! From washing up liquid, socks, cars and even Weapons of mass destruction however, we don't sell ties.
(Ianto straightens up and falls on his knees, puts face in his hands and begins to scream)
Ianto: Nooooooooo!!! This isn't Earth! This isn't the Earth I know!!
Jack: It can't be...no, it can't...
Toshiko: Its a universe where you buy everything in a catalogue store like 'Argos'!
Owen: Grr...Aw, shit.
Gwen: Its oh-kay, its orh-kay, I've got experience, I had to pick up a beer mini-fridge for Rheey-ss his birthday like this once.
Jack: Is there nothing this girl can't do? Woo! You AMAZE me, Gwen!
(Jack dances, spinning around and points his finger at Gwen whilst grinning with his pearl white teeth)
Gwen: Ye-ahs, turn a gay man straight, it seems...
Ianto: B-b-buy something! Give it a try!
Owen: Yeah! buy some porn or a double ended dildo for those two lovers here!
(Owen points at Ianto and Jack.)
Toshiko: Buy Scientific Weekly! See if the common cold has been cured!
Owen: Porn!
Toshiko: Scientific Weekly!
Owen: Porn! Fucking porn!
Toshiko: Scientific Weekly!...
(Jack opens arms out wide and shouts)
Jack: FOR GADS SAKE! PEOPLE! Gwen, just buy the damn Karma Sutra, then everyones happy!
Ianto: Theres many things that you can do with a copy of the Karma Sutra...
Gwen: Lyyy-ke wot?
Owen: Read it and tug off in the shitter...(Owen grins evilly),of course.(Continues grinning like a twat)
(Credits)
Next Episode: Gwen reads the pages of a catelogue when a picture of 'George Foreman's Mean Green Grilling Machine' comes to life and attempts to threaten Gwens life and cook Owens gonads...Ianto falls into a unescapable ball pit in the childrens area, and Toshiko falls in love with a lifesize model of Anne Robinson whilst Jack enters as a contestant on 'Super Market Sweep' to try to snog Dale Winton when he's not paying attention.
Gwen: Oor nor! Jack! Theres a cowld pizza here!
(Gwen points at cold pizza on table)
Jack: Hot damn! there is, Gwen!
(Jack points at table enthusiastically for no real apparent reason)
Ianto: I'll just go and reheat it.
(Ianto walks out of Meeting Room to and falls down the stairs on a loose tube of 'lube)
Toshiko: We have no oven. Nor microwave.
(Owen steals pizza from Toshiko's hands)
Owen: Ahh, you idiots! We can just cook it in the fucking rift inducer!
(Owen inserts pizza in rift-inducer)
Jack: Thats not a good idea. That is NOT a good idea...I tell you, Owen!!!! thats not a...
(Jack points at Owen angrily as if Jack is the law, and thats that.)
(Owen inserts the cold pizza into the rift inducer, the Hub starts shaking and trembling.)
Gwen: Oh-wen! (Gwen gasps) What have you dorn?
The team all blackout.
(Torchwood intro plays)
Team is woken by a old cleaner mopping up.
Jack: Where the hell are we?
Cleaner: Well, young, mysterious, stereotypically, yank-man, you're in 'the shop'.
Jack: 'The shop'?
Cleaner: The only place on Earth to buy things of course!
Gwen: Whaay-t, are you trying to sahy that this is the own-lee place that we can buy things?
Cleaner: Everything! From washing up liquid, socks, cars and even Weapons of mass destruction however, we don't sell ties.
(Ianto straightens up and falls on his knees, puts face in his hands and begins to scream)
Ianto: Nooooooooo!!! This isn't Earth! This isn't the Earth I know!!
Jack: It can't be...no, it can't...
Toshiko: Its a universe where you buy everything in a catalogue store like 'Argos'!
Owen: Grr...Aw, shit.
Gwen: Its oh-kay, its orh-kay, I've got experience, I had to pick up a beer mini-fridge for Rheey-ss his birthday like this once.
Jack: Is there nothing this girl can't do? Woo! You AMAZE me, Gwen!
(Jack dances, spinning around and points his finger at Gwen whilst grinning with his pearl white teeth)
Gwen: Ye-ahs, turn a gay man straight, it seems...
Ianto: B-b-buy something! Give it a try!
Owen: Yeah! buy some porn or a double ended dildo for those two lovers here!
(Owen points at Ianto and Jack.)
Toshiko: Buy Scientific Weekly! See if the common cold has been cured!
Owen: Porn!
Toshiko: Scientific Weekly!
Owen: Porn! Fucking porn!
Toshiko: Scientific Weekly!...
(Jack opens arms out wide and shouts)
Jack: FOR GADS SAKE! PEOPLE! Gwen, just buy the damn Karma Sutra, then everyones happy!
Ianto: Theres many things that you can do with a copy of the Karma Sutra...
Gwen: Lyyy-ke wot?
Owen: Read it and tug off in the shitter...(Owen grins evilly),of course.(Continues grinning like a twat)
(Credits)
Next Episode: Gwen reads the pages of a catelogue when a picture of 'George Foreman's Mean Green Grilling Machine' comes to life and attempts to threaten Gwens life and cook Owens gonads...Ianto falls into a unescapable ball pit in the childrens area, and Toshiko falls in love with a lifesize model of Anne Robinson whilst Jack enters as a contestant on 'Super Market Sweep' to try to snog Dale Winton when he's not paying attention.
Saturday 6 January 2007
Friday 5 January 2007
Don'tcha want a girl-friend like...Ah-lex Mack?
Wow, awesome. Does anybody remember the show 'Secret World of Alex Mack'? Man, that show was awesome; a tom-boy'ish girl being able to turn into liquid and creep under doors, use telekinesis and shoot electric, that was some lucky girl...thinking about it, with abilities like that as she grew up, there must of been a lucky guy...thinking about it again, wouldn't her ideal man be Odo from Deep Space 9? Bit of an age difference, but I'm sure he could of morphed into a younger version of himself.Although, looking at the actor of Alex now...
Man, wouldn't it be great to be her boyfriend now at her estimated current age?
Wow, to have a experimental chemical poured over you like that must scar you for life. Also, you could have really kinky fetishes when you grow up, and very confused boyfriends (with the Tomboy attitude too), the mind boggles.
In fact, they should write a character just like Alex Mack for the next series of Torchwood.
!Remember every time she liquidized, her clothes fell off...!
You just KNOW its got potential.
You hear me Russell Teeeeeeeeeeee?...Chris Chibnaaaaaaaaaaall?!
Deal or No Deal...(coffee break version)
Deal or No Deal, ahh, where Noel talks to the contestants the people in the 'wings, the Banker and everyone in the audience between choosing a box, just look what happens to the format of the show when you remove the interaction...
Thursday 4 January 2007
Yes...I am INVINCIBLE...
In the great words of the late, great Lord Chesney Hawks...
!Find the secret message!
!Find the secret message!
I am the one and only,
Oh yeah!
Call me, call me by my name or call me by my number,
You put me through it,
I'll still be doing it the way I do it,
And yet, you try to make me forget,
Who I really am, don't tell me, I know best,
I'm not the same as all the rest,
Chorus:
I am the one and only,
Nobody I'd rather be,
I am the one and only,
You can't take that away from me
I've been a player in the crowd scene,
A flicker on the big screen,
My soul embraces, one more in a million faces,
High hopes and aspirations, ideas above my station
maybe but all this time I've tried to walk with dignity and pride
Chorus
I can't wear this uniform without some compromises,
Because you'll find out that we come,
In different shapes and sizes,
No one can be myself like I can,
For this job I'm the best man,
And while this may be true, you are the one and only you!
Chorus - repeat to fade out
Oh yeah!
Call me, call me by my name or call me by my number,
You put me through it,
I'll still be doing it the way I do it,
And yet, you try to make me forget,
Who I really am, don't tell me, I know best,
I'm not the same as all the rest,
Chorus:
I am the one and only,
Nobody I'd rather be,
I am the one and only,
You can't take that away from me
I've been a player in the crowd scene,
A flicker on the big screen,
My soul embraces, one more in a million faces,
High hopes and aspirations, ideas above my station
maybe but all this time I've tried to walk with dignity and pride
Chorus
I can't wear this uniform without some compromises,
Because you'll find out that we come,
In different shapes and sizes,
No one can be myself like I can,
For this job I'm the best man,
And while this may be true, you are the one and only you!
Chorus - repeat to fade out
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