... I think there is a little something in there for all of us, don't you?
Friday, 17 February 2012
Monday, 19 December 2011
From the sublime to the ridiculous
Labels:
assholes,
morons,
nutters,
politics,
warmongering
After mourning the passing of the flawed, but otherwise deeply magnificent Christopher Hitchens, we now have the death of Kim Jong-il, the Dear Leader of North Korea.
I am a great believer in the sanctity of life and generally would not wish ill on anybody.
For Kim Jong-il I shall make an exception.
Please rot in your diamond bejewelled, gold plated grave, you low life, pathetic, oxygen-thieving scumbug.
:-)
Here's hoping the impoverished, brainwashed people of North Korea can see their way to a better future now. With any luck those near the top have been too cowed by being ruled by a living, breathing God to know what to do next, and will now trample each other in the general confusion. This is most likely wishful thinking, but you never, ever know...
Saturday, 17 December 2011
Saturday, 3 December 2011
Inappropriate Meme images
Looking at a bunch of Jehovah meme images got my thinking - what if the text of the meme was applied to an unrelated meme?
So I took this one:
...and made these...
And I think my favorite would have to be...
Monday, 1 August 2011
The day the nanobot came Clem had himself a hoot
[This was written for ficly.com - where stories are limited to 1024 characters]
Clem was resting on a log the day the nanobot came. It arrived in a spaceship the size of a tiny carrot. The nanobot quickly rearranged the atoms of its ship into another nanobot.
“Ain’t you the cutest little fellers!” enthused Clem, as 2 became 4.
The 4 then set about rearranging some of the atoms in Clem’s log. Soon 8 became 16.
Clem belly-laughed a treat. “You guys sure are somethin’!” he drawled as 16 became 32. Then 64.
After a little while the nanobots started on the atoms of the tree beside Clem and 2048 became 4096. Amazed in a truly simple way, Clem watched the tree dissolve into nanobots. He was still being amazed as 1048576 nanobots inevitably surrounded him and turned him into 2097152 nanobots.
Three hours later, the rest of the Earth had been efficiently converted into nanobots. This substantial cloud then morphed into little spaceships and headed back out again in search of even tastier worlds.
Bon appétit!
Clem was resting on a log the day the nanobot came. It arrived in a spaceship the size of a tiny carrot. The nanobot quickly rearranged the atoms of its ship into another nanobot.
“Ain’t you the cutest little fellers!” enthused Clem, as 2 became 4.
The 4 then set about rearranging some of the atoms in Clem’s log. Soon 8 became 16.
Clem belly-laughed a treat. “You guys sure are somethin’!” he drawled as 16 became 32. Then 64.
After a little while the nanobots started on the atoms of the tree beside Clem and 2048 became 4096. Amazed in a truly simple way, Clem watched the tree dissolve into nanobots. He was still being amazed as 1048576 nanobots inevitably surrounded him and turned him into 2097152 nanobots.
Three hours later, the rest of the Earth had been efficiently converted into nanobots. This substantial cloud then morphed into little spaceships and headed back out again in search of even tastier worlds.
Bon appétit!
...and a bag of hammers please!
[This was written for ficly.com - where stories are limited to 1024 characters]
Peter was securely strapped to the gurney. Unable to move his body, Peter surveyed this new and exciting life experience.
To Peter’s left, ten thousand poison tipped arrows, nestled in ten thousand straining, drawn bows, all pointing ominously at his head and body. To Peter’s right two hundred primed and flickering flame throwers were trained on him with matching terrible accuracy. Above Peter’s head, ten enormous carbon steel axes, sharpened to spine chopping perfection hung from a single hair trigger.
The releases for all three of these dire contrivances connected back to a tiny green button positioned one inch in front of Peter’s nose.
Peter’s mind ratcheted up another notch to process this unexpected turn of events in his awe filled life. Peter wondered if he’d get laid today. Peter wondered what would happen if he pressed the green button.
Peter was not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
A few seconds later Peter’s life troubles were over.
Over here, over there, and over…
Oh, never mind.
Peter was securely strapped to the gurney. Unable to move his body, Peter surveyed this new and exciting life experience.
To Peter’s left, ten thousand poison tipped arrows, nestled in ten thousand straining, drawn bows, all pointing ominously at his head and body. To Peter’s right two hundred primed and flickering flame throwers were trained on him with matching terrible accuracy. Above Peter’s head, ten enormous carbon steel axes, sharpened to spine chopping perfection hung from a single hair trigger.
The releases for all three of these dire contrivances connected back to a tiny green button positioned one inch in front of Peter’s nose.
Peter’s mind ratcheted up another notch to process this unexpected turn of events in his awe filled life. Peter wondered if he’d get laid today. Peter wondered what would happen if he pressed the green button.
Peter was not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
A few seconds later Peter’s life troubles were over.
Over here, over there, and over…
Oh, never mind.
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
Bitter End
[This was written for ficly.com - where stories are limited to 1024 characters]
When galaxies cross paths, stars rarely collide, astronomers say. But we were not warned about the collateral damage.
The city street is full of people, women, men, children, wanderers. No one smiles. No child laughs. All are joyless. Without hope. Doomed.
The twin stars shine down without mercy. The Sun. Our Sun which has nurtured our species and fostered all life on our beautiful planet, over millennia. And then there is Giselle …
Giselle! A tiny star of beauty from the Andromeda Galaxy which for hundreds of thousands of years has been merging with our Milky Way. We were told Giselle was not dangerous – she was not on a collision course with our Sun. They spoke the truth. What they did not mention (at first) was that Giselle would be captured into orbit around our star. Our Sun. A cosmic ballet began.
That was 5,435 years ago.
And in 3 years, 42 days, 21 hours and 58 minutes Giselle will finally cross the path of, and utterly consume our Earth.
All are joyless. Without hope. Doomed…
When galaxies cross paths, stars rarely collide, astronomers say. But we were not warned about the collateral damage.
The city street is full of people, women, men, children, wanderers. No one smiles. No child laughs. All are joyless. Without hope. Doomed.
The twin stars shine down without mercy. The Sun. Our Sun which has nurtured our species and fostered all life on our beautiful planet, over millennia. And then there is Giselle …
Giselle! A tiny star of beauty from the Andromeda Galaxy which for hundreds of thousands of years has been merging with our Milky Way. We were told Giselle was not dangerous – she was not on a collision course with our Sun. They spoke the truth. What they did not mention (at first) was that Giselle would be captured into orbit around our star. Our Sun. A cosmic ballet began.
That was 5,435 years ago.
And in 3 years, 42 days, 21 hours and 58 minutes Giselle will finally cross the path of, and utterly consume our Earth.
All are joyless. Without hope. Doomed…
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
Just Don't Do This, OK?
[This was written for ficly.com - where stories are limited to 1024 characters]
Einstein always said that space was curved. Well, all right then. With the help of a little basic quantum physics (is there any other kind?), I built my new house into the fourth spacial dimension.
I now stand in the hallway that runs through my house, and find myself staring at my own back, fifty feet away. So I pursue, er, me. Breaking into a brisk trot I cannot catch up to me. Darn, but I run nice!
Stop! Turn around! Again! AGAIN! No matter how fast I turn, I am still staring at my own back.
I roll a ball towards me. Helpfully, I spread my legs wide, and I do the same. I can see the ball going cleanly between my legs, as a ball rolls gently through mine.
Damn it, I want to see my face!
An IDEA! Grabbing a small mirror, I lift it up and over me, so that I can see the smug face of me behind me.
There are some things that can snap one’s sanity like a twig.
In the elevated mirror I could now see an unbroken line of me’s, stretching out to infinity, all with a look of instant overwhelming terror…
Einstein always said that space was curved. Well, all right then. With the help of a little basic quantum physics (is there any other kind?), I built my new house into the fourth spacial dimension.
I now stand in the hallway that runs through my house, and find myself staring at my own back, fifty feet away. So I pursue, er, me. Breaking into a brisk trot I cannot catch up to me. Darn, but I run nice!
Stop! Turn around! Again! AGAIN! No matter how fast I turn, I am still staring at my own back.
I roll a ball towards me. Helpfully, I spread my legs wide, and I do the same. I can see the ball going cleanly between my legs, as a ball rolls gently through mine.
Damn it, I want to see my face!
An IDEA! Grabbing a small mirror, I lift it up and over me, so that I can see the smug face of me behind me.
There are some things that can snap one’s sanity like a twig.
In the elevated mirror I could now see an unbroken line of me’s, stretching out to infinity, all with a look of instant overwhelming terror…
* * *
Prompted by Anonymous, I'll add that this tiny story is inspired by Robert Heinlein's very fine short story 'And He Built a Crooked House'. I had made this attribution on the Ficly version, but forgot to add it here. Naughty me. ;-)
Star
[This was written for ficly.com - where stories are limited to 1024 characters]
Major Peter Burns finished his spacewalk, and holding onto a rail, unhooked his tether.
It was so unfair – at that moment there was a flash of light as a smiling crew member took his photo through a nearby port. Surprised, Peter jerked up, and his helmet hit a strut. He recoiled, losing his grip.
To his dismay, he was now four feet from the grip and drifting away.
But he was already dead, Peter knew. Four feet was no closer now than four thousand feet, or four thousand miles and the vast sphere of the Earth waited patiently behind him.
* * *
Becky leaned on the fence. Her dad, Joe, leaned next to her and they studied the night sky. They’d seen five in the last hour and were keen for more.
A streak of light started in the west, suddenly flared and smoothly spanned the sky before guttering towards the east a few seconds later.
“Wow! That’s the best one all night!”
Becky pondered.
“Daddy? What are shooting stars made of?”
Joe smiled, happy to impart fatherly knowledge.
“Oh, rocks I guess, Honey.”
Major Peter Burns finished his spacewalk, and holding onto a rail, unhooked his tether.
It was so unfair – at that moment there was a flash of light as a smiling crew member took his photo through a nearby port. Surprised, Peter jerked up, and his helmet hit a strut. He recoiled, losing his grip.
To his dismay, he was now four feet from the grip and drifting away.
But he was already dead, Peter knew. Four feet was no closer now than four thousand feet, or four thousand miles and the vast sphere of the Earth waited patiently behind him.
* * *
Becky leaned on the fence. Her dad, Joe, leaned next to her and they studied the night sky. They’d seen five in the last hour and were keen for more.
A streak of light started in the west, suddenly flared and smoothly spanned the sky before guttering towards the east a few seconds later.
“Wow! That’s the best one all night!”
Becky pondered.
“Daddy? What are shooting stars made of?”
Joe smiled, happy to impart fatherly knowledge.
“Oh, rocks I guess, Honey.”
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
NUMBER OF THE BEAST
Labels:
fiction
[This was written for ficly.com - where stories are limited to 1024 characters]
Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Federation starship ‘Enterprise’ materialized on the surface of the planet ‘51 Pegasi d’ and was immediately arrested.
Somewhat surprised by this, Kirk stammered, “I haven’t done anything. What is my crime?”
As luck would have it, the Ruling Council of this particular planet had just passed a law declaring that personnel transporters were a criminal technology which merely destroyed, then duplicated those who foolishly stepped into them. It had been determined that metadata in the transport waveform could be used to reveal the number of times a single individual had previously been ‘teleported.’
“Kirk-666, by order of the High Council of Federated Planet ‘51 Pegasi d’, you are hereby charged with being an accessory to six-hundred and sixty-five counts of First Degree Murder…”
Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Federation starship ‘Enterprise’ materialized on the surface of the planet ‘51 Pegasi d’ and was immediately arrested.
Somewhat surprised by this, Kirk stammered, “I haven’t done anything. What is my crime?”
As luck would have it, the Ruling Council of this particular planet had just passed a law declaring that personnel transporters were a criminal technology which merely destroyed, then duplicated those who foolishly stepped into them. It had been determined that metadata in the transport waveform could be used to reveal the number of times a single individual had previously been ‘teleported.’
“Kirk-666, by order of the High Council of Federated Planet ‘51 Pegasi d’, you are hereby charged with being an accessory to six-hundred and sixty-five counts of First Degree Murder…”
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