“I’ve been putting a lot of thought into this Zen thing and I keep coming up with zip!” ;-)
“I’ve been putting a lot of thought into this Zen thing and I keep coming up with zip!” ;-)
From Spirit of Old:
Ralphie: “I’ll be fifty-two next June and the bastard still hasn’t been!”
From Word Porn:
I disagree with this very notion! How can this be, when beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Probably another case of conforming to the norm. I piss on the norm! (Sorry, Norm…no offense!)
My place of birth, my abode, my pride and joy has fallen victim to malicious slander. I intend to Sue and cousins Ann and Mary also. Legions of my forebears have been raised on this lovely mountain top, where the knowledge of physics(= working out) and quantumobility have been passed on from cousin to son and so on for ages. You all knows me, do I look thick to you?
Brief explanation of quantumobility:
Little tiny super-guys called Bat Photon, Spider Proton and Hulk Quark(who’s a bit cheesy), who all have superpowers(they can be in two places at the same time, for example) and drive really fast and light vehicles, wiz by there regularly, stopping off to enjoy our Moonshine. Don’t you tell me I know nuttin about cheese!
In short, I ain’t havin’ it!
From I fucking love science:
What I have long feared has come to pass! We who take the internet as scripture, must guard against it being inaccurate. Anything written down in these hallowed halls should be set in stone, so to speak. To state the bleedin’ obvious: I’ve found a mistake on the internet and in the most unlikely of places, namely Wikipedia. I’ve contacted them, but they adamantly refuse to correct it! I’m wondering if I should start a petition? Could you join me in bringing it to everyone’s awareness, please?
Here’s the link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mistake
They’re actually blatant about it!
Hurray! Hurrah, here’s my chance to ask you all to please remember my dear departed relative, Mister Blobby Burcke (picture included!). As the last remaining specimen of this elusive species Blobulus Burckulus, I have a vested interest in him not being forgotten. Although yours truly has evolved slightly since Mister Blobby’s untimely departure, I still proudly carry his jeans or was it genes? (either will do)
I’m still working on the procreation bit, but I could use some help! Hint, hint… Anyways, here’s to all animals and Mister Blobby in particular. Have an animal-loving day now, you all!
Lord, I want a lot,
a whole lotta cocoa,
to dump in the Milky Way, Lord!
Could you stir it, Lord? Please…
And a very long straw,
one that reaches till my bed, Lord,
so as I can slurp and slurp
and burp and slurp some more, Lord,
uhmmmm…until I snore, please, Lord!
My ancestor Mister Blobby Burcke is at this minute turning around in his grave, after hearing this heart-breaking news. That his charming, noble and delicate features could be described as ugly had never ocurred to him, nor to his many devoted fans. I leave it to you, the reader, to decide for yourselves what you think about what these hoodlums of National Geographic say about him!
From National Geographic:
A mountain and a valley were having an argument.
When the mountain felt that he could not win the argument, he told the valley to ‘kiss his side’.
The valley answered: “But, Mountain, I do…” That shut him up!
I would like to be extremely famous and do great deeds. Such great deeds that world citizens would erect statues of Ralphie the Great everywhere, to be used as toilets by the pigeons.
I would perform these outrageously valient deeds not so much for the sake of mankind, but to be of assistance to the pigeons. You must agree that a good public loo is hard to come by.
It is said that goldfish have a memory-span of three seconds. But who says this?
I mean, has anyone ever tried to play chess with one?
Mountains have ever been envious of valleys and vice versa, which seems incongruous, seeing that they’re basically one and the same.
What is a valley, but an inverted mountain of air, with at its deepest point the tops of mountains!?
A million years to a mountain is just enough time to take a quick nap.
A mountain never rests.
It is always busy
being a mountain.
My accursed brain is a sadistic bastard, who always hands me incredibly witty things to say, long after I’ve left the scene of relevance.
My covers could hardly be called virginally white these days. They had taken on a whorey tattiness that went remarkably well with my lumpy matress.
The man’s neck hairs would have stood on end, had he not been bald, but taking courage, he strutted forward with all the machismo of an old nun, who had just taken communion.
Yay verily, though I glide through the shadows of the Mound of Venus, I shall fear no breakage! (Ode to Durex)
My morning constitutional had done me justice. My right to sweat like a pig had been upheld.
The emerald crown of this King of trees shone like a beacon.
On this eerie moon-swept night, the mist recoiled from the pallid lake, as if scared of its own reflection. Not a good omen.
The law protects institutionalised crime!
I know, all this makes about as much sense as watering ones lawn would, right after a tsunami had hit.
And again, fornicatory salutations to you all!
My friend complained to me that her flash did not work properly, when she wanted to take a picture of the full Moon.
Any hints or tips for this unfortunate lady?
P.S.: You see in this picture of the Moon? No problem with the flash!
Mute fear that stills the breath and slows the blood, implodes the self to pinprick-size, the better to hide, my love!
Limited Love Span Syndrome: Kiss,
kiss, cuddle, cuddle, go!
Love is all??? Only when I’m online, dear!
Have you got the latest love app yet?
I cuddled your profile, while you were offline!(from Groovimax on EP)
An oldie: Oh, DOS off!
What are you up to? — Just hanging out my Windows, listening to the Tweets. I can’t Facebook anyone now!
I rebooted his sex drive up the Yahoo!(=not good)
Facepalming your duckface is obscene, bitch!
A robodog is what we need. To suffer his affections but for a while, until the off-switch beckons.
From Ralphie(as in: me, moi)
Annie, our local vegan, was knitting a jumper for her favourite tree. Bright orange it was, to attract the winter bees. She’s blonde, you see… Winter bees, tsk, tsk!
Redneck snails sublet to their relatives, you know!
Never ask a snail about his basement!
That snail is structurally retarded!
Do snails more into a duplex, after they’re married?
Join the army, Uncle Snail needs you!
What is the average response time for the Snail Police?
Watch that Mister Smith snail. He’s missing a few rooms, you know!
Yeah son, Grandpa Snail isn’t as fast as he used to be!
Snail hit and run!!!????
The Snail Police need to catch this murderer before the ‘trail’ runs cold!
Can snails get evicted?
What’s the maximum speed on a snail freeway?
Is the cost of open door surgery prohibitive for snails?
What do snails get up to during a blackout? Is there a snaily boom soon after?
Where do snails go to church?
Do snails kids have sleepovers?
Who cleans their pads anyway?
Way up north, do they have snail igloos?
Do snails go to the movies or… nah, forget it!
Are windows in snail houses illegal, for possibly being too explicit?
What is formal attire for a snail?
Pic from dommy.wordpress.com.
When snails grow up, do they need to visit a real estate agent(repeatedly)?
What about painting and decorating?
Do snail parents ground their children?
Is there a curfew?
Where’s the loo in a snail house?
Can snails get house arrest and more importantly: do they care?
Do they get burgled a lot?
[Pic from dommy.wordpress.com.]
When snails want to have sex, do they ask “Your place or mine?”?
Do snail houses have zippers?
Where do they keep their slippers?
Any nudist snail camps about?
Are their properties insured?
“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”
― Thomas A. Edison
“There’s been a breakthrough in my procrastination process. My progress is proceeding at lightning speed towards its starting point.
I am to inertia what Einstein was to physics!”
I might even say that I have just invented Quantum Procrastination.
I must be missing a screw,
I noticed this surprising fact
just now over breakfast.
I was searching for my sleeping cap,
yes, just like that I do things
that make me sit up and wonder…
Hey, isn’t that chicken defrosted yet?
‘Cause this egg is much too cold!
~ Hunhh…??? ~
I wrote this originally in Dutch:
Ik ben zeker een schroefje kwijt.
Dit hoogst opvallend feit
merkte ik net nu bij’t ontbijt.
Ik zocht toen naar m´n slaapmuts…
Ja, zonder erbij stil te staan
doe ik dingen van je weet maar nooit.
Zeg, is die kip nou al ontdooit?
Want dit ei is wel heel erg koud!
~ Hè??!! ~
Have to get up early tomorrow, at the ungodly hour of half past nine! That’s indecent exposure for my delicate warm-weather skin, it bein’ so cold and all! Hibernation is starting to sound better and better every day. Where is this country of Hiber located anyways? I might emigrate over there! The language can’t be that difficult to learn, they probably communicate by snoring…
If’n anybody knows, you be sure to holler, you hear!
I vote we get rid of the calendar altogether. Who needs is anyway? It’s so annoying, don’t you think? What day is it? Who cares! Wouldn’t it be nice, if you could just say: “Why, it’s Myday!” No more waiting for Thank-God-it’s-Friday ever again!
The same goes of course for weeks and months, if anybody asks: “But Sir/Madam, it’s Myweek in Mymonth!”
I would loosely allow for the season’s to be kept on. But just to be annoying, I’m having Myspring now, instead of later on in Mymonth. Hey, the sun is shining and it’s pleasantly warm here in the south of Spain, so why not. You can have Yourwinter, should you so choose!
And evidently, I was born in MYyear. Duh!! Did you have to ask?
I could write much, much more on this riveting topic, but I’m having Myholiday, so I can’t be bothered! Nananananh…
If you vote Ralphie for Internet President, I shall make this the first amendment to Myconstitution, make that Ourconstitution. Unless you would like Yourownconstitution, which would be ok by me.